“I was wondering when you were coming.”
“I'm not coming back,” Buffy said, more than a little apprehensive about having this conversation, growing more nervous when Angel did nothing but look at her. “We're not friends,” she continued with resolution in her voice. “We never were. And I can fool Giles, and I can fool my friends, but I can't fool myself,” she said, shaking her head to emphasize her point. “Or Spike, for some reason,” Buffy paused, swallowing hard at the realization. The words had slipped from her mouth before she’d even had a chance to think about them and now the repercussions seemed to be eating away at her. “I'm gonna go,” she murmured, trying not to show how stunned she was by her slip.
“I don't accept that,” Angel said, staying where he was.
“You have to,” she said in a forceful voice, keeping her tone low and sympathetic.
“How can...” Angel trailed off, taking a step toward her, nearly cringing when she reflexively backed away.
“You have to,” she repeated with more conviction before turning and walking out of the mansion.
Buffy could feel her heart racing as she walked further away from the man she was sure she was in love with. Or used to be in love with. Or… had convinced herself that she was in love with.
‘Then why am I thinking about Spike?’ she asked herself, shaking her head in confusion, hugging her arms tightly around her body to ward off the chill creeping down her spine. ‘Evil, soulless, Slayer of Slayers – any of this ringing a bell?’
Taking a deep breath, she continued walking toward her house, absentmindedly tucking a piece of loose hair behind her ear.
Walking through the backdoor of her kitchen a few minutes later, Buffy nearly slammed the door, frustrated that she couldn’t get the image of Spike out of her head.
“Well, look who’s all hot and bothered.”
Spinning around at the sound of the familiar accent, Buffy swallowed a gasp, seeing Spike leaning casually against the wall, hands in the pockets of his leather duster.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked, dropping her purse on the kitchen island, wanting both hands free in case he decided to attack her.
“Came to say goodbye to your mum,” he replied, casually pushing away from the wall to stand in front of her. “She’s a nice lady.”
“So… what was the plan? You creep around her house and plan to give her a heart attack when she walks in?”
“Wasn’t creeping,” he said indignantly. “Was just… waiting.”
“Yeah… well… Mom’s not here. And for the record, if she was, it’s not a good idea to be standing in a vampire Slayer’s home when she’s in a not-so-good mood.”
Spike smirked as Buffy crossed her arms over her chest, leveling him with a cold glare.
“So…” he began slowly, taking a few steps forward until he was standing in front of her, looking down with a slight smile. “I’d get the same reaction that I got earlier, then?” he asked, his smile widening when she began to back away, noticeably swallowing as he approached. “‘Cause, I gotta say… having you between my legs… your body pressed against mine… there are worse places to be,” he finished in a whisper, leaning close enough for his lips to brush against her hair, listening to her labored breathing as her eyes closed at the sound of his voice.
Buffy flushed as she remembered pressing him against the island, one hand at his throat, the other on his stomach, and through all of the chaos and confusion, she distinctly remembered the hard length of his erection pressed against her lower belly.
She had ignored it, of course. With Angel standing threateningly over her shoulder and her mother freaking out in the corner of the room, she hadn’t attributed it to anything. Now, with Spike standing so close to her, looking at her with a mixture of desire and amusement in his eyes, she felt short of breath.
Swallowing a gasp when Spike slowly reached up and toyed with the loose piece of her hair, Buffy didn’t move as her eyes cut over to watch his hand, half-expecting it to drop lower in an attempt to snap her neck.
“If I wanted to kill you, Slayer,” he said quietly. “It would be in a fair fight. Not catching you off guard in the middle of your kitchen.”
Buffy tried to put a voice to her thoughts, briefly closing her eyes to get her bearings, uncertain why the simple idea of him playing with her hair was causing everything around her to seem fuzzier.
“That a fact?” she murmured, looking up at him with an unreadable expression.
“What’s the matter, love?” he asked, ignoring her question as he raised an eyebrow. “You seem a little flushed.”
“Nothing,” she said in a strained voice, nervously licking her suddenly dry lips. “I-it’s nothing.”
“Really?” he asked, leaning even closer to her. “Seems to be something to me.”
Buffy swallowed a moan when his hand ghosted over her neck, trailing lightly along her collarbone, the Slayer part of her screaming at her to push him away as the girl leaned into his touch.
“All dressed up,” he murmured, his lips lightly brushing over her cheek as he pulled away. “Going somewhere?”
“No,” she said, finally finding her voice, even as she felt his other hand rest on her hip. “You shouldn’t be here…”
“No,” he agreed with an amused chuckle. “I really shouldn’t… but the strangest thing’s happened…”
“What’s that?” Buffy asked, her entire body tightening when he leaned closer, tenderly brushing a kiss to her lips. Resting against the counter, supported against Spike’s body, Buffy ran her hands up the length of his arms, feeling the supple leather beneath her fingertips.
“You.”
“Me?” Buffy asked, her eyes widening in surprise.
Spike didn’t bother to answer, kissing her more forcefully until he felt her relax against him.
Breaking away a moment later, Buffy looked around in surprise, uncertain of how she’d gotten to this point.
“What are we doing?” she asked with a breathless laugh.
“Nothing you don’t want,” he replied, his hand lightly playing with the waistband of her pants, his fingertips dipping below the material, testing her reaction.
“H-how do you know I… want this?” she asked, closing her eyes when he toyed with the button of her pants. Stiffening slightly when he popped it open a moment later, his lips began a lazy assault on her neck while his hand slipped even lower until she was clutching at him to hold her upright.
Smiling against her skin at the wetness he felt, Spike exhaled softly, watching her shiver at the different sensations. “I’d say the answer to that question is fairly obvious, pet,” he whispered, lightly biting her neck, mildly surprised when she tilted her head to give him better access.
Biting her lip, Buffy threaded her fingers through Spike’s hair, loosening it from the gel and whimpering in need.
Spike slowly circled her clit, creating a slow pattern until Buffy was lightly thrusting against his hand, the only sounds in the room her whispered pleas.
His other hand pushed the gauzy sweater from her shoulders, his lips traveling lower, lightly biting her nipple through the thin shirt, causing Buffy to arch against his hand in response.
She felt as if she was spiraling out of control as he continued his actions, pushing her closer to the edge. Feeling her body reacting to his touch, he continued to manipulate her as her hands tightened on his biceps, her hips arching against him.
Her eyes rolled back when he bit the tender skin of her neck, gasping when his face shifted, the pressure of the bite changing until his fangs cut into her throat, sending her spiraling into her climax. Crying out, she arched against him, driving his fangs deeper into her throat as she thrust against him, slowly coming down from her orgasm.
Buffy panted for air, finally opening her eyes in time to see his face shift back to human form, blushing a vibrant shade of red when he stepped away from her, licking his fingers clean, giving her a devilish smile when she looked away.
Straightening her clothes, Buffy nervously cleared her throat, looking up when she saw Spike moving toward the door.
“You’re leaving?” she asked, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.
Spike stared into her eyes for a moment before closing the distance between them, brushing a tender kiss to her lips. His hand gently grasped her neck, holding her to him for as long as he could. Pressing his forehead against hers, he took a deep breath. “I am,” he said, his stomach dropping when he saw the crestfallen look on her face, as if she had been expecting a rejection all along.
Pressing his lips almost brutally against hers, Spike held her forcefully against him until it was clear that Buffy was becoming more anxious with the violent kiss. Easing back until his lips were barely touching hers, he looked into her eyes, caressing her cheek with his fingertips.
“I’ll be back,” he whispered, gesturing toward the window. “Sunrise. Don’t fancy seeing the other side of it – especially now that I have a reason to stay away from it.”
Buffy blushed, looking down at the floor with a soft smile before raising her eyes to his.
“What do you say, Slayer? Are you my reason now?”
“Wow,” Buffy said, her smile widening. “That was unbelievably mushy for a soulless vampire.”
Spike chuckled, tilting his head to look at her. “That it was.”
Buffy sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him lower for a brief kiss. “Doesn’t make it any less true.”