Summary: (This story follows The Healing Pool and Expanding Her Virtual Horizons--reading those first may help answer some questions, but it isn‘t necessary to do so.) Buffy and Spike escape Sunnydale for a couple of days to deal with new developments in their lives. Aside from the expected Spuffy lovin’, they reach an understanding and a new stage in their relationship.


Warning: NC-17 rating. Also--this is a Christmas fic. I know it’s a weird time, what with Spring having sprung (well, in Toronto, anyway) but I started writing this way back in November and I like it enough to post it anyway. To anyone who has a problem with this: um... nyah!


Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, no matter how many prayers I send up to the Powers That Be...


(This story has been posted un-beta’d. If I get it back from my beta with any major changes, I’ll tweak it where necessary. And thanks to Keely for her help on this :)



In The Comfort of a Loving Embrace


“Here’s to two whole weeks without having to look at Snyder’s troll-like face.”


Buffy and Willow laughed at Xander’s toast, but couldn’t help but agree with their friend. “Hear, hear!”


“So, guys, what are your plans for the holidays?” Buffy leaned back in her seat and took a sip of her mocktail (the closest she could come to drinking alcohol--stupid laws...). She herself was planning on enjoying quiet holidays, with as little deviation from the norm as possible: lots of eating, even more gift opening, and minimal slaying.


“Uh, I plan on sneaking some food to the basement and trying to pretend that I don’t really live at home. You know, Never-Never Land can be a nice place to visit. Just call me Xander Pan.”


Xander often joked about his home life, but his friends knew that his parents’ fighting affected the young man more than he led on. He’d stayed over quite a few times at Willow’s house when the fighting was more than he could handle, and with the stress that people usually felt at Christmastime, well... they all knew he wasn’t joking about the hiding and pretending bit.


Willow patted the young man’s back affectionately. “That’s ok, Xander. My parents are out of town until the new year--some kind of aboriginal study committee, or something. You can sneak two platefuls and come over to my place.”


“Thanks, Wills.” It didn’t matter that they were pretty much adults at this point. Xander appreciated the offer--it would always be as if they were nine years old when it came to his family situation.


Buffy smiled at the two best friends, but blinked when a flash of black caught the corner of her eye. She turned around, scanning the main floor, but didn’t see anything out of place. Frowning, she turned back to a heated conversation, the beginning of which she‘d missed. Something about whether Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer should have agreed to join Santa, after being ostracized by the old guy...


She caught about two words before she felt a familiar tingling at the newest set of bite marks on her neck. Spike. She looked around again, but this time drew her gaze upwards. Her eyes fell upon his dark shape sitting at one of the tables on the walkway. Was he there for her, or just for a drink? Did he have Drusilla with him?


The Slayer’s heart skipped a beat as his eyes met hers for a brief moment before he turned away. He was alone. It had been over three weeks since their ‘meeting’ at the hotel, and she’d been waiting for a word or a sign from him, anything that would get her close to him once again. She knew that this attraction to the master vampire was wrong, but since when did logic have a part in matters of the heart--or of other body parts?


“Hello? Earth to Buffy!”


“Huh?” Buffy shook her head, turning her attention back to her friends. “Sorry, I... I must’ve zoned.”


“That’s ok. Thoughts of sugar plums and turkey do that to me too.” When he saw that his little joke didn’t garner much more than a distracted grin from his friend, Xander hunched his shoulders. Oh well... “I was wondering where Deadboy was. He hasn’t graced us with his broodiness in a couple of weeks now.”


The young woman shrugged indifferently. “Don’t know. I haven’t seen him either.” Truth was, she was relieved to put some distance between her and Angel. The whole Angelus threat meant that nothing could ever come of their relationship, so it was for the best if they weren’t constantly around each other--she was also tired of the stress of being close to someone who‘d once been her whole world, but no longer meant that to her. And with Spike now in the picture... well, it was best that the older vamp not be around for that. Although she was sure that he knew full well what had conspired between herself and his childe. His attitude in the days preceding his ‘disappearance’ was cold and distant, as if he were hiding something.


Willow and Xander exchanged curious glances. They’d never seen Buffy act this way when Angel was the topic of conversation. She usually got all dreamy-eyed, or really sad, but never indifferent. And what was with all the glances around the club, anyway? Was there someone else in their friend’s life that she hadn’t mentioned yet? Was she waiting to meet this someone?


The redhead looked up to where the Slayer’s gaze was set and noticed that there was someone familiar. Someone very, very familiar. And scary, evil, menacing...


Buffy couldn’t... Nah, she wouldn’t...


“Look, guys. I’m really sorry, but I’m not really in a celebraty kind of mood right now. I... I’m just going to go home. And rest.” Buffy could no longer fight the pull--she had to go up and see the bleached vampire. With a quick nod and a wave, she practically ran away from her table towards the back stairs.


Oh, goddess, she is...


***


Spike didn’t even see the Slayer approach his table until she’d sat down across from him. He couldn’t hide the acerbic tone in his weary voice as he acknowledged her presence. “Come to make my life difficult, too, pet?”


Buffy remained quiet, examining the vampire’s appearance. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept in days, his hair was mussed, and his clothing all wrinkled. The Spike she knew--proud, full of himself--seemed to have taken a holiday. She dragged her chair closer to him, as much to be close to him as to be able to hold a private conversation. “Spike?” Her voice was quiet and hesitant. “Is something the matter?”


It was the tone of her voice that did it. Like she cared--like someone in this world full of wankers actually cared about him and what went on in his unlife. Spike raised his eyes and looked at her--and saw worry and compassion in those large hazel eyes of hers. How could he have doubted her intentions, as well?


“Dru‘s gone.” It was the first time since he’d been left alone that he’d actually been able to form the words. The hand that held his beer shook a little--damn, that shouldn’t be happening, with an undead body...


She should have been happy, rejoicing even--put on a top hat, take a cane and dance her way along the railing. But Dru’s demise only created an ache in the pit of her stomach. Not because she missed the crazy vamp, but because of how truly devastated Spike must be. “Oh God, Spike. I’m... I’m so sorry. How...” She put her hand on his knee, underneath the table, trying to let him know that she was being genuine.


Wait a minute. The Slayer thought that Dru, a master vampire, was dead and she felt bad about it? Spike cocked his head and couldn’t help but let a small smirk form on his lips. “Dru isn’t dead, luv. She left me.”


“Oh, that kind of gone.” Buffy tried to pull her hand back, but it was held in place by the vampire’s own hand. In some demented, green-eyed jealousy monster kind of way, she was happy about the recent turn of events. Angel’s... wherever he went to, Dru’s out of the picture. Maybe she and Spike didn’t have to work so hard at hiding anymore.


“She found out about us.”


Ok, maybe they hadn’t done such a good job at hiding their encounters...


“But how?”


Spike snorted and took a long swig of his beer. “The poof, from what I can figure. She was waiting up for me one night, said that her daddy had come by and told her horrible things. Lies, she’d told him...” He looked up from the coaster he’d been playing with, and met the young woman’s eyes. “That was the worst of it, you know--the lies, the sneaking behind her back. I think that, even though she’s never been all there, she realized that I was the only one who was ever true to her. Until now.”


Buffy felt like a tramp. She’d been the ‘other woman’. Forget the young secretary who destroys a ten-year marriage, only to leave a mother and teenaged daughter on their own--she was the one who’d destroyed a century-old relationship. She truly didn’t know what to say to him. “Spike... I’m sorry... I mean, we shouldn’t have...”


Quicker than lightning, Spike had her chin in his hand, holding her gaze steady with his. “Don’t ever say that. This isn’t only because of you, so don’t play martyr here, Slayer. We were both responsible for what happened, and I don’t know about you but I don’t regret one minute of it. Not one touch,” he let his long fingers slide down from her chin to the column of her neck, “not one kiss,” his lips replaced his fingers, cool and dry, skimming down the heat of her skin, making her moan, “not one sound.”


He backed away, removing his lips and his fingers from her body. “Do you?”


Buffy’s only thought was snuh? His touch erased all clear thought from her mind; she knew he was asking a question--something she knew she should know, but all she could think was ‘why no more touch?’ “Do I what?”


Spike leaned in and spoke slowly, as if dealing with a child. “Do you regret what we’ve done, what we have?” His hand snaked over to her wrist, fingers massaging her pulse point. He couldn’t get enough of the feel of her body--her living body--all warmth, heart beating, lungs drawing in air, skin all flushed.


“No.” The answer was easy and obvious to the Slayer. Whatever it was that they had--because she couldn’t deny it, there was something between them, a bond of some sort--she didn’t regret it for one moment. It wasn’t logical, but when did physical attraction (it couldn’t be more than that, could it?) work from the brain? It worked from the heart, and the gut, and the soul. It was pure intuition, and when it came to Spike, her intuition was telling her ‘full steam ahead!’


They shared a quiet moment, both lost in their thoughts. Before she knew what she was doing, Buffy stood up and held her hand out to the blonde vamp. “Come on.”


Spike hesitated but for a moment before rising up beside her. Placing his hand in hers, and throwing a tip on the table--melancholy brought out the weirdest in him--he let the young woman lead him away.


***


In the shadows of the upper level, a young red-headed woman remained glued to the spot.


Buffy and Spike. No wonder Angel’s gone. He would have been able to sense this a mile away... Was it some sort of spell, some strange prophecy that had pushed them together? She hadn’t been able to hear what they’d been saying, but their body language was more than obvious. Spike was in the dumps, and Buffy was consoling him.


This was weirder than weird. Slayers and vamps--especially non-souled ones--weren’t supposed to be together, especially not in the sense that these two seemed to be. They were way too comfortable being close to each other, touching each other... This was obviously not their first encounter.


But now that she thought of it, Willow had found that Buffy seemed happier these past few weeks. She hadn’t been gloomy-girl like when she was with Angel. Was Spike the one who made her happy? Could the bleached vampire actually cause happiness instead of pain?


Argh--she had to get to the bottom of this. Not because she wanted to meddle, not because she thought an answer was owed to her, but simply because Buffy was her best friend and she’d managed to keep this from her. This was mega news, the kind that was usually shared over a steaming cup of hot cocoa, laying squished together on a twin bed, shoulder to shoulder and giggling...


Yep. Willow needed to polish up her resolve face and find out just what was going on between the two blondes.


***


Buffy silently followed Spike out to his car. When he opened the passenger door for her, she hesitated. “Are you sure this thing is safe?”


The vampire rolled his eyes. “This baby is made of steel--you’re safer riding in this than you are in any of those poncey fibreglass cars they make nowadays. Now hop in and buckle up.” He watched her as she dusted the seat off before settling in. When she was properly seated and buckled, he closed the door. Why was it that folks no longer appreciated the fine form of older cars?


Buffy looked around the inside of the car. The windows were painted over with black spray paint, except for a small circle directly at the driver’s eye level. Yeah, real safe. There was garbage all over the floor--liquor bottles, paper bags, empty cigarette cartons, McDonald’s wrappers... Huh? She picked up a crumpled wrapper with the tips of her fingers and pulled it open a little. Filet-O-Fish...


Spike hopped into the driver’s seat only to have garbage dangled in front of him.


“Guess your diet doesn’t only consist of ‘Happy Meals on two legs’, does it?” Buffy couldn’t help but smile when the paper was ripped from her fingers and tossed to the back seat. Pushing at the remaining garbage with her feet, she couldn’t help but tease the driver. “Wonder what other dirty little secrets I might find down here...”


“Hey!” Spike’s mind sped a mile a minute, trying to think of anything else he might have lying around that might be construed as anti-Big-Bad. “You just keep your feet still. It’s none of your business what’s lying around in my car.” The nerve of her! Just like a woman to start pokin’ around a bloke’s personal stuff...


Buffy laughed out loud this time. “Afraid I’ll find your Kinder Egg wrappers?” At the look he gave her--deer caught in the headlights--her laughing turned to outright guffaws. Now she knew why she’d led the vamp out of the club. There was so much more to him than he let on. A former scourge of Europe who now had a taste for fast food and sweets (or was it the toy?)--she just needed to know what else made him tick...


Spike was at a loss. Wasn’t he supposed to be sulking? Where was the melancholy, the depression? He hadn’t even thought of Dru since they’d approached the DeSoto. Five minutes with the Slayer and she had him grinning, damn her. Shaking his head, he started the car. Now he knew why he’d let her lead him out of the club. From darkness to light... And he wouldn’t change it for the world.


***


They’d been driving for over half an hour before Buffy spoke up. This would be so much easier if she could see out the windows. “Spike? Where are we going?”


“There’s a place up in the mountains, just a small cabin. Thought you might like to see it. Figured we could have a nice, uninterrupted talk there.” He just wanted to get away. Leave Sunnyhell, leave every trace of Dru, of Angel, of the Scoobies... even if just for a night or two. “It’s still a little ways, but it’s not altogether that far.”


Buffy frowned. A cabin. Up in the mountains. That meant away from everything, no doubt in the middle of the woods. If he wanted to, he could pull any trick out of his sleeve and have an advantage over her. She wouldn’t know the area and although the moon was out, his eyesight would serve him better than hers would her. Damn it, Buffy. Stop fretting. Just for once, go with the flow--push the Slayer back, relax and enjoy what life brings. He’s had tons of chances to kill you and he hasn’t, so why go to such lengths now?


“I’ll have to call my mom, to let her know I’ll be out.” Then, more to herself, she muttered. “I can tell her that I’m at Willow’s, she’ll buy that...”


Spike took his eyes off the road for a second or two and popped open the glove compartment. “There should be a cell phone in there. And, before you ask, no--you don’t want to know where I got it...”


The Slayer rolled her eyes. No use pestering him about it now... She keyed a much-dialled number before calling her mom. “Hey, Wills. No, I’m not home, actually. I’ve got a favour to ask you. I’m...” She looked over to the vampire, who was trying hard to pretend he wasn’t listening. “...going out of town, and I need to tell Mom that I’m staying at your place while she‘s away--she‘s gone until Christmas eve, on some kind of buying seminar or something. Is that ok with you?”


Oh, Goddess--she’s spending the next two days with him. Out of town! Willow tried to keep her voice even. “Of course, Buffy. But only on two conditions.”


Buffy hesitated. This was different... Usually her friend would readily agree to such plans, no questions asked. “Uh, ok. On what conditions?” She looked over at Spike, who raised his eyebrows--he was no longer pretending not to listen.


“One. That you be careful. And two--when you get back, you have to tell all about your two days out of town with Spike.” Ok, she’d let the cat out of the bag. Now Buffy knew that she knew...


Buffy’s hand flew to Spike’s arm, clutching the leather in a death grip. Oh, God--she knows! But she’s not flipping--actually, she seems to find it funny... “Ok, Wills. You got me. Lots of talking when I get back. And don’t worry, I’ll be safe. Good night, Willow.”


The Slayer ended the call and, before Spike even had a chance to ask out loud, she called her mom‘s cell phone. “Hi, Mom? Yeah, I know it’s late. I’m actually gonna stay over at Willow’s while you‘re gone; yeah, I don‘t feel like staying at home alone, especially during the holidays. The phone number? Uh--Willow’s Mom is on the phone and I’m using the cell phone they have. It comes up as a Walter Price? That’s weird... No, I don’t know. Maybe it’s someone who works with Mrs. Rosenburg. Yeah, I’ll be good. No, I won’t eat too much popcorn--I remember all too well what happened last time.” Her voice strained and exasperated, the young woman ended the call. “Look, Mom--the phone’s beginning to beep--I think it’s running out. I’ll see you when you get back. No, I haven’t forgotten that I promised to help you with the Christmas dinner--I wouldn‘t miss it for the world. Love you too--gotta go, Mom.”


Groaning, Buffy leaned over and hit her head against the dashboard. “You know, sometimes I think it would be easier if I just told her that I’d landed in jail. She’d just hang up and let me rot for the night.”


Spike couldn’t help but chuckle. “Mums are there for that, luv. They worry about you, they fret over you and they embarrass you. It’s just their nature.”


Closing the glove compartment, Buffy rolled the window down a little. The air was beginning to get cooler, but its freshness helped keep her awake. “Was your mom like that?”


The vampire closed his eyes for a moment, trying to block out the memories. Oh, Mother... He reached into his duster pocket and, with shaking hands, lit himself a smoke. He was trying to find a way to talk about his mother without, well, without telling the Slayer what he’d done. She’d jump out of the car for sure if she knew...


The young woman noticed his unease with the subject. Oh, Freud would have a field day with this one. “Never mind, Spike. It’s not important. It’s ok if you don’t want to talk about it.”


“Mum was a great woman. So full of love, always smiling, always happy--even after Dad died. She was a strong woman--well, strong of character. She... she got sick, right before I was turned.” He hoped that was good enough for the Slayer, that she wouldn’t prod any further. If she asked outright, he might not be able to lie. After all, he was the worst liar on the face of the earth.


“She sounds like she was a wonderful woman, Spike.” Buffy took his hand in hers and squeezed. She knew there was something he was keeping from her, but it seemed like he hadn’t even reconciled it with himself--it wasn’t fair to ask him to share it with her.


Her eyes roamed the console, wondering if he’d mind if she put some music on. He looked like he needed it. “Is there a tape or something you want me to pop in?”


Grateful for her tact, Spike let his body relax. “Actually, I got a CD player installed a while back. If you reach under your seat, there’s a bunch of them there. Don’t know if you’ll like any of them, though.”


Buffy did as he instructed, and came back up with a handful of CDs. She flipped through them--boy, he really was stuck in the eighties, wasn’t he? The Clash, Blondie, Sex Pistols... Ok, well, here were some bands she knew--Metallica, White Zombie, Nine Inch Nails... Ok, there was something she could listen to...


“How about Nine Inch Nails?”


Spike’s eyes grew wide and he took his eyes off the road for just an instant to stare at her. “Fine by me, pet. Didn’t know you were into that kind of music.”


“Well, seeing that I don’t know half the bands you‘ve got here, and I can’t stand the other half, I went with something I knew I could listen to. And anyway, I actually like a lot of their stuff.” She slid the CD in the player and sat back while the music started.


It was odd for both of them to be in such a casual situation with each other. This encounter didn’t have any of the surprise or impetuousness of their first time in the cave; it wasn’t planned or organized like the hotel room--no internet access in the car!. It was... well, it was just them, together, doing whatever came to mind. If they just wanted to sit and chat once they got to the cottage, that would suit them; if they wanted to rip each other’s clothes off the minute the door slammed shut--well, that would be fine, too.


Buffy leaned in to turn the music down a little. “So, what’s up with this cottage we’re going to?”


“Cabin, luv. It’s not really a cottage. It’s pretty much four walls with a roof, although--before you panic--there is a loo, and there’s a wood stove for heating, so you won’t be cold.” Thoughts of the Slayer spread out on blankets beside the cast iron stove had the vampire squirming in his seat--stupid tight jeans.


“That’s ok. When I was younger, my parents had a cabin like that, that we used to go to every now and then. I can‘t even remember where it was--all I recall is that it took forever to drive there.” She sighed, then chuckled. “Actually, I remember one of the first times we stayed there. It was in winter, and there wasn’t any insulation on any of the walls--and they were just made of plywood or something stupid like that. There was a crazy ‘snowstorm of the century’ blowing outside, and all we had was some old wood stove and about twenty sleeping bags. God it was cold that night...”


Spike smiled at the memory. He knew from experience that sometimes all it took was a fond memory and it seemed like everything was ok. “So I take it that you guys don’t go there anymore?”


Buffy’s posture slumped at the vampire’s question. Steeling her gaze ahead of her, she spoke so quietly that had he not had superior hearing, Spike would have missed her answer. “No. My parents split before I moved to Sunnydale. My dad found his secretary more interesting than his wife and daughter...” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice. “It’s ok, though--I mean, he gets his secretary to remember to send me birthday and Christmas gifts.”


He honestly didn’t know what to say to that. It happened all the time--relationships staled, they ended. Hell, he had just been handed the literal boot in a century-plus relationship. But that had been between himself and Dru. Buffy’s dad, on the other hand, hadn’t given any thought to the little girl he was abandoning. “’M sorry, pet.” He reached out and cupped her cheek. Maybe this trip was about healing for both of them.


“Can you pull over?” Buffy’s words surprised her, as did her intentions. “I just... I just need...”


She didn’t need to finish that sentence--Spike felt the same way. He waited until he came upon a clear shoulder wide enough for the car, and then he pulled over, turning off the engine. Before he knew it, he had an armful of Buffy on his lap, hugging him like her life depended on it. He returned the embrace in earnest, needing the contact as much as she did.


They remained locked together, Spike’s strong arms surrounding the Slayer’s small body and her breath tickling the hairs at the back of his neck. When the next song started, Spike couldn’t believe it. Of all the bloody worst timing... He felt Buffy stiffen before she pulled back to cast a heated gaze on him.


“I know this song...”


Before Trent Reznor’s voice broke through the music, her lips were upon his in a frenzied, desperate move. It took Spike a moment to realize that not only was the Slayer not offended by the timing of ‘Closer‘, it was turning her on. Bloody hell... He returned the embrace with as much passion, parting his lips to allow her tongue to enter his mouth.


She pressed her body against his, grinding her centre against his groin in time with the pulsating rhythm of the music. This song had always turned her on, and here she was with all the opportunity to act out any of the various fantasies that it had inspired.



I want to Fuck you like an animal


I want to feel you from the inside


I want to fuck you like an animal


My whole existence is flawed


You get me closer to God


His cool hands were under her shirt, trying to soak up her heat. Her skin was so smooth, her form sleek and feminine. The vampire’s hands slid up Buffy’s taut stomach until they reached her bra. On a whim, his fingers lightly travelled to the centre of the undergarment--a sly grin broke out on his lips as he felt the front clasp slip apart. Breaking their kiss, he pulled her top up, freeing her breasts from their confines.


Buffy looked down at her lover and saw the undisguised lust in his now almost-black eyes. Continuing to grind down on him, she pulled his face to her chest, twining her fingers in his blond locks. She couldn’t even begin to describe the sensations that flowed through her at his ministrations. The Slayer-Vampire link had something to do with it--that much she was sure of. Because no human male could ever make her feel so good just by the touch of his lips on her. He made her feel like her body was on fire and frozen to the core all at once. His cold mouth spread fiery trails against her skin as he placed wet, open-mouth kisses over her breasts.


She leaned back to give him more room; the change in angle caused her to catch her breath. Oh, wow... If only she could feel that, just one more... oh, there it was again...


Her climax came out of nowhere; her body stiffened in his arms, and she wailed his name as her body arched backwards, setting the car’s horn off.


Spike held her close to him--he’d nearly come just from the sound of her orgasm, and he was afraid of losing control like some teenage prat. Her small body, writhing on his still covered cock, her sweat coating his hands and his face, the smell of her release... It was almost more than he could take. He tried to slow his breathing down--damn it, he was a vampire, he shouldn’t need to breathe!--to no avail.


He raised his eyes to meet hers, and found understanding in them. Buffy leaned down, kissed him almost chastely on the mouth, and whispered “now it’s your turn” before crawling off his lap. Watching her scoot back on the seat, he was sure his heart would start to beat again. What plan did she have in that dirty young mind of hers?


As if in answer to his silent question, her hands went to his fly, popping the button open and lowering the zipper.


Buffy’d never wanted to taste him as bad as she did right that moment. For once, there was no hesitation, no internal debate. Her hand grasped the vampire’s erect cock and began to pump up and down its length, using the precum as lubrication. She looked back up at Spike and smiled warmly. Taking his hands in hers, she put them on her head, hoping he’d get the hint. Blowjobs were nice and all, but they were no fun if you spent half the time pulling your hair out of your mouth...


It took a moment for Spike to understand what it was she wanted from him. Closing his eyes and leaning back, he swept her hair back into a messy ponytail. He didn’t hold back the groan that passed his lips at the sensation of her tongue pressing up against the underside of his erection. The fact that this act was making the Slayer just as horny as him--ok, maybe not quite as much--made the vampire’s insides twist with more than desire, more than lust. As stupid as it sounded, it made him feel wanted, like Buffy was doing this not just because she was incredibly randy, but because it was something she wanted to share with him.


As disappointing as it was--because hey, what man wouldn’t like to be able to hold off for the eternal blowjob--Spike felt the onset of his impending release. “Buffy, luv, I’m gonna come...” He relieved the hold he had on her hair, giving her the chance to pull back if she so wished.


Which she didn’t. Nothing short of the abominable snowman pulling the roof off the car would distract Buffy from finishing what she’d begun. She relaxed her throat muscles, taking in strand after strand of Spike’s thick cum, swallowing everything he had to release. She only pulled back once she was sure he was done--which was obvious when the vampire’s body went slack, sliding down a bit on the seat.


Snickering to herself, she sat up and, propping herself against the back of the seat she leaned in and pulled one of his eyelids open. “Spike? You in there?”


When “ugh...” was the only response she got, she playfully smacked the vampire on the chest. “Come on, Spike. There’s a cabin that we need to get to. It’s probably freezing in there--we’ll have to work hard at warming it up...”


In the blink of an eye, the vampire was sitting up and had pulled her back up against him. Leaning in, he placed a soft kiss against her lips. “Right you are, luv. We’re still about an hour away--might as well be on our way.” He started the engine and pulled back onto the road, his own version of ‘warming up the cabin’ flowing through his mind.


***


The Slayer was sound asleep by the time Spike pulled off the road onto the cabin’s private drive. It was hard to call 500 yards of road a driveway... He hadn’t been there in years--he hoped beyond hope that it was still there, that the caretakers (whom he still paid) were actually doing their job. It was the only thing, aside from the DeSoto, that he really owned, and tonight he was grateful for both.


“Pet? Wake up--we’re here.” He shook Buffy’s shoulder, but she didn’t budge. Shrugging, he left her in the car--she’d be warm long enough for him to get a good fire started. They probably wouldn’t feel the stove’s heat until morning, but he doubted they’d have to worry about that.


The crisp air woke him up as it hit his nostrils. Up here, you couldn’t smell the cars, or the garbage, or any of the other smelly things that the city had to offer. What he could smell was the pine trees, the rich earth, and snow. It was coming soon--that much he could tell. Not a whole lot of it, but enough for Buffy to enjoy, he imagined. Shrugging, he pulled a key out of his wallet and walked up the cinder blocks stairs to the front door.


It fit easily into the lock--that was a good sign. On one hand, it meant that no one else had claimed the cabin as their own; on the other, it meant that the caretakers were keeping the place up. Now all he had to worry about was if there was enough wood inside the cabin. There was enough moonlight for him to go out and fetch some, but it was much easier to have it at hand.


The door swung open easily, and he walked in. The people had been here recently--he could still smell them. Good. Kicking the dirt off his boots--good ol’ Victorian manners were hard to shake--he made his way to the stove that lay just to the door’s right. He kneeled in front of the old cast iron fixture and swung the handle over, opening the door. There were still ashes, but they had died a long while back. To the left of the stove lay a box full of kindling and bark, and to the left of that box was a stack of medium-sized logs; that would allow him to start a good fire. Pulling his lighter out of his duster pocket, he set to work.


Buffy slowly came to, realizing that the car was no longer in motion. Stretching, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Where the hell were they? Actually, where the hell was Spike? She undid her seatbelt and opened the car door.


Her breath caught as she stepped out of the car. She was surrounded by trees--not the decorative shrub-sized trees they had in Sunnydale, but 30 and 40 foot high pine trees. It looked beautiful, it smelled wonderful... it felt great. She shut the door and turned around--that must be the cabin, she thought to herself, looking at the smallish structure behind her. Shivering--she was, after all, not wearing appropriate clothing for being up in the mountains--she spent a few seconds taking in the view of the structure.


The door was still open and inside she could see a faint reddish glow. Stretching once again because, well, nothing felt better than a lungful of clean air, she walked towards the building. The stairs were a bit rickety, so she walked up them slowly--she was still wearing her Bronzing boots, and chunky heels weren’t the best for climbing poorly constructed steps..


When she peeked inside the doorway, she was met with an image of Spike working on the fire. A warm rush flowed through her at the sight. It was so... well, she couldn’t put a word to it. Not quite domestic. Maybe a bit rugged--but that wasn’t all of it. She shrugged--so she wasn’t word girl tonight. Whatever.


“You looked too peaceful to wake, luv. I tried a bit but figured you’d wake up on your own.” Spike’s attention was still focussed on trying to get the medium-sized pieces of wood to stay lit, but he still tossed a glance her way.


“Thanks. I think I needed a bit of sleep. Exams just finished at school--I feel like I studied for two weeks straight. Ugh.” She walked over to his left, crouching to his level. “You want a hand with anything?”


“Actually, if you could fix up one of the beds--I’m sure we’re going to need about a dozen blankets. I forgot how bloody cold it is up here.” The vampire wasn’t used to this side of the Slayer--the helpful, tell-me-what-I-can-do side of her. He was even more surprised when she leaned in and placed a kiss on his cheek.


“No prob. Consider me blanket girl.” Buffy got up and took a look around the cabin. Not bad, really--much, much better than the little white cabin of her childhood. Her back to Spike, she faced the rest of the cabin. To her right was a kitchen area, with a small armoire and a table with four chairs. To the left there was a couch, set against the far wall. Lots of space in between--maybe there was supposed to be something there when it was built?


She passed the kitchen/living room areas, finding herself in a framed-in hallway. The two-by-fours were all set up, but the walls had never been built. Yup. Definitely a work in progress... On either side of the makeshift hallway were bedrooms, each containing one double bed.


Eeny meeny miny moe... She turned to the one on her right, which was more in line with the stove--slightly. Pulling the blankets back, she saw that there were only three, if you counted the sheet. Nope, that just wouldn’t do. She crossed over to the other bed and stripped it of its two blankets, dragging them over to the other bed. Four blankets and one sheet. Would that do?



“Spike--are there any other blankets around? I don’t think there are enough on the beds...”


The vampire looked up from his successful fire. “There should be a set of drawers out back, past the bedrooms. Right across from the loo. If I recall, that’s where all the bedding was kept.” He turned his attention back to the task at hand and poked at the fire. One more log was thrown onto the fire before he closed the doors; he played with the vents on the doors until they were opened just so, letting in the right amount of oxygen. No good burning down the cabin...


He locked the cabin door, out of habit more than anything, before turning towards the bedroom. Buffy sat on the bed’s edge, shivering and arms folded close to her. When he began to disrobe, she gave him the widest stare.


“Are you insane? It’s freezing in here--don’t you keep long underwear in this place?”


Spike chuckled before sliding under the covers. “Take it from someone who grew up in 19th century England, luv. You’ll warm up faster if you’re in the buff--’specially if there are two of us.” He raised his eyebrows and pulled the blankets away from her side of the bed.


Muttering under her breath about crazy vampires and catching colds, Buffy did as Spike had suggested. Squealing when the cold air hit her skin, she dove under the covers--which were no warmer than the ambient air. “Aargh! God, it’s cold! You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?” She shivered uncontrollably, teeth chattering, legs and arms pulled close to her body.


“Piffle, luv.” The vampire moved over to her shivering form and pulled one of her arms over his slender waist. He leaned in and placed his lips against hers, cupping a hand over one of her breasts, massaging it and tweaking its nipple. He let his hand slide down to her legs, which were still bent up against her, and straightened one out, curling it over his own legs.


He broke the kiss and, rubbing his thigh against her core, whispered soothingly. “You’ll find it hot in here soon enough, Slayer.”


Strangely enough, Buffy felt her skin warm a little at the vampire’s actions. When she’d initially crawled into the bed, she didn’t think that there was anything short of a steaming shower that could warm her up. She rubbed her leg up and down his, the friction adding its own heat to their embrace. Rolling onto her back, she pulled him on top of her. “Maybe I need more than blankets on top of me to keep me warm...”


Spike felt his cock harden at her actions and words. “Cor, Buffy...” The words escaped him as her lips smashed up against his, her teeth biting his lower lip. She pulled back and cast an amused gaze on him.


“Less talking--more warming up.”


The vampire threw his head back and let out a loud laugh. “Yes ma’am!” His lips returned to her neck, nipping and licking, while the hand that wasn’t holding him up travelled down her rapidly warming body.


He’d missed having such a responsive lover before. It had been like this with Dru, before Prague. But since becoming ill, she hadn’t been able to participate as freely in the bedroom.


But Buffy gave it her all. She liked the slow as much as the fast, if not more. She liked the gentle and the rough, the traditional and the kinky. She was perfect for him. And right now, she was writhing beneath him, responding to his delicate touch like her body lived off of it.


The things he did to her, the way he made her feel. Buffy could only hope that she made him feel a tenth as good as he made her feel. His left hand was presently clutched at her hip, massaging--or was it holding on?--and squeezing. His lips had left her neck and were now pressing butterfly kisses against her clavicle. Under his ministrations, she’d quickly forgotten about the cold. Actually, now that she gave it a second’s thought, the bed seemed to have gotten somewhat toasty.


“Still cold, luv?” Spike took his attention away from her body to look up into her eyes. Eyes that were clouded over, that were gentle, and loving, and appreciative of his attention. He cursed his unbeating heart at that moment--he would have wanted to feel it skip a beat under the emotion of that gaze.


“No. I’m perfect. Absolutely, undeniably, perfect right now.” Buffy took his face in her hands and pulled him up to her lips. Their kiss was slow and wet, tongues sharing an intimate dance, exploring each other’s mouths. “Make love to me, Spike. I don’t care about the foreplay right now. I just want to feel you inside me, filling me. I want it to be slow, to last for hours.”


The vampire simply blinked, then nodded. His lips came back down to hers as he pushed his way into her, slowly--just as she’d asked. He didn’t know about hours, but he wanted it to last a long, long, time. Her channel was moist and hot, and her muscles grasped around him in a welcoming gesture. He would be forever lost in her eyes, would crave her arms’ embrace till the end of his days, would summon up the warmth of her body and her heart in his coldest moments. He realized, at that moment, that in just over a month, he, William the Bloody, had fallen in love with Buffy Summers, vampire Slayer.


This realization led him to clutch her closer to him, to increase the passion of their embrace.


This is what she’d wanted with Angel, when she’d first met him. What she needed, then and now. Someone who gave themselves completely, without reserve. Spike, she realized, didn’t do things halfway. He’d hated her with his entire being, and now he--loved her, perhaps? Well, it sure felt like it to her. They weren’t fucking, they weren’t having sex, they were making love. No, wait--she was being made love to. The vampire’s hold on her, his almost still movements in and out of her, his possessive kisses--it made her feel loved. There was no other word that fit. Did she love him? She honestly couldn’t answer that. Could she love him? Yes. There was no denying that she could easily love the vampire--nay, the man--she was with.


The cabin was silent but for the sounds of their intimacy. The slow squeaking of the bed, the breaths taken between kisses, and the occasional escaped whimper or moan.


It seemed like they’d been in each other’s arms for hours, yet it wasn’t long enough. Buffy was the first to feel the tingles begin to course up her legs, the warmth radiating from the point of their union. Letting out a low, drawn-out moan, she pressed up against him quicker and harder. Opening her eyes, seeing the adoration in Spike’s blue gaze, she lifted her head and kissed him lightly on the lips. Without breaking eye contact, she muttered her first words. “I want you to taste me. This isn’t just lust, or hunger--it’s more than it was when we were in the cave.” Her breath hitched as she began to shake. Bearing her neck to him, she whispered. “Please, let me share this with you...”


Spike didn’t hesitate to abide by her request. He was afraid that if he did wait too long, he’d wake up and still be alone, in the factory, drunk out of his right mind. When her body stiffened and her internal muscles clenched around his shaft, he let his demon out and tenderly sank his fangs into her exposed neck. The taste of her rich blood, the sound of her keening--howling his name, the feel of her gripping him inside and out led to his own fall over the precipice. Pulling his fangs out of her, he let his forehead drop to her shoulder before clutching her hips and pumping inside of her, finally finding his release. Energy drained, he fell limply to her side.


They both lay there, a tangle of limbs and blankets. “You were right,” Buffy managed to say, in between deep breaths, “I’m not really cold anymore.” Giggling, she asked. “Do you think we can open a window, or something?” She felt more than heard Spike’s laughter at her joke before he found the energy to turn towards her.


“Come here, you.” He pulled her against him and pulled the covers over them both. “If you open a window now, you won’t be too happy come morning. That fire I built won’t last till then, so you might as well hog all the heat you can.”


Buffy snuggled closer to the vampire, mumbling an okay before letting herself get taken over by exhaustion. This time, she knew that come morning, she’d still be in her lover’s arms. And that was all the fodder she needed for sweet dreams.















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