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Chapter Nine

When she awoke the next morning it took her a few minutes to remember where she was. There was no cool body pressed up against her back, no strong arm around her waist or eager cock pressing into her backside. She let herself indulge in a few minutes of unashamed self-pity, then gave a mental shake and sat up.

(Better get used to this now, Buffy. There will be no vampire missage in this bed. It was just a summer thing that happened because we were both lonely and bored. It’s just as well Mom came home when she did. Saved us from the whole “it’s our last night,” thing. This gives me/us more time to get used to not being together all the time.)

She conveniently ignored the fact that Spike did not have, to the best of her knowledge, anybody else in his unlife except her, Dawn, her mother, and peripherally, the same Scoobies that would want to kill him if they got an inkling of how Buffy had spent the summer.

Buffy pulled the well-used sheets off the bed, pressing them to her nose as she carried the bundle of dirty linen down to the basement. It was with a small pang that she put them in the washing machine, knowing that when they came out they would just smell like fabric softener rather than sexy vampire. At the last second, she snatched the pillowcase out of the machine and carried it back up stairs. When she was finished putting the fresh linens on the bed she stuffed the rescued pillowcase under her pillow and pulled the spread up to cover it.

Joyce did, in fact, sleep until almost noon and by the time she came downstairs Buffy had gone out to spend some time in the sun. She watched her daughter through the kitchen window as Buffy carefully basted her body with sun block and turned regularly to even out her tan. To prove that the apple didn’t fall far from this particular tree, she decided to pretend she never heard Buffy’s slip of the tongue the night before. As much as she liked Spike, she really didn’t want her daughter getting involved with another vampire, so in typical Summers fashion, she refused to consider it a possibility.

She found it a little harder to cling to that belief when she found a laundry basket full of clean black tee shirts and jeans beside the dryer later that afternoon, but by then Buffy had gone to the college to register for Fall classes and once again, denial seemed the way to go.


When Spike left the Summers’ home he had headed blindly for Willie’s, determined to drink away the pain that had taken up residence in his chest. He sat at the bar, downing one Jack and O Neg after another, and snarling viciously at any demon daring to cast a glare in his direction. He knew he was unpopular with most of the demon crowd, as word spread that he was helping the Slayer, but his current murderous mood made him welcome the idea of being challenged. When it seemed no one was willing to actually start anything with the angry vampire, he grabbed a fresh bottle from the back of the bar and left to go drink himself unconscious in private.

His crypt seemed much darker and colder than it had before he began spending his nights in Buffy’s cheery bedroom, but it suited his mood and he sank down into his comfy chair and proceeded to pour the entire bottle of bourbon down his throat.

(What the hell is a summer fling? Does she expect me to just stop wantin’ her on the first of September? There isn’t that much magic in the world. I’ll never stop – Can’t give her up now. She’s in my blood – literally. The demon isn’t goin’ to let her go without a fight.)

Just before he achieved his goal and passed out from the alcohol he’d been steadily consuming, he felt a brief flicker of loneliness prick his consciousness and realized the partial claim was still operating. He tried to reach out to connect with Buffy, but passed out before he could be sure the reassurance he was trying to send made it.

When he awoke late the next afternoon, he prowled around the crypt like a caged animal. For the first time in weeks he wasn’t waking up surrounded by the scent of his Slayer and without the sound of her heartbeat letting him know where she was.

He thought back to his emotional exit the night before and groaned aloud. “You bloody drama queen! If she wasn’t worried about the situation before, she sure as hell will be now. Be lucky if she doesn’t stake me just to get me out of her hair.”

As the skies outside darkened, he went around the crypt, listlessly lighting a few candles and wondering if she was expecting him to come over for patrol or if she didn’t want to see him. He vaguely remembered feeling the little touch of her loneliness the night before and it gave him a sliver of hope that maybe she wasn’t ready to cut him out of her life completely.

“Not yet, anyway, you pathetic git. Know it’s gonna happen, don’t I?”

His conversation with himself was interrupted by a timid knocking on his door. He looked up in surprise, wondering who would bother knocking, then felt his heart lurch when he realized whose heartbeat he was hearing.

“Buffy?” he whispered in disbelief as he went to the door and opened it.

She was standing outside, her arms full of his clean clothes and her face wearing an anxious expression. He stared at her for long seconds before he shook himself out of his daze and backed up so that she could come in.

He realized belatedly that she was holding his laundry, and mentally cursed himself for a fool.

(She’s not here to see you, you stupid git. Just gettin’ your stuff out of her house before her mum sees it.)

He was reaching to take the clothes from her just as she stepped through the door and they collided briefly in the doorway. Spike automatically grabbed her arms as she stumbled back, her balance thrown off by the things she was carrying.

“I’m sorry, pet,” he said quickly, releasing her shoulders. “Let me take those from you. You don’t need to bring them in...”

Her eyes flew to his face as he turned away with his laundry, his shoulders slumping.

“You don’t want me to come in?” she asked in a small voice.

He could hear the hurt she was trying to hide, and he could feel the touch of her pain in his blood. She whirled and started out the door, willing the tears that had sprung to her eyes not to fall until she was far away. A strangled sound from behind her halted her exit and she looked back to see the vampire had dropped the clean clothes on the dusty floor.

Once again she got a look at true vampire speed as he was in front of her before she even registered his movement.

“Of course I want you to come in. How could you think I wouldn’t? But I thought you—“

“You thought I what? What did you think I was saying last night?”

He looked down at the floor as he mumbled, “Thought you were kickin’ me to the curb. Wouldn’t want me around anymore now that your friends and family are comin’ back. Won’t need me anymore.”

He raised his head to meet her troubled eyes. She moved into the crypt, pulling the door shut behind her.

“Do you think that’s the only reason I want you around? Because I need you for something? I thought we were friends.”

She stared stubbornly at the silent vampire, waiting for him to say something. Instead he took her arms again and pulled her toward him so that he could read her face. When she continued to look puzzled he said softly, “I’m not your friend, Buffy.”

Her puzzled look changed to one of unhappiness and then, in her usual response to pain, anger.

“My mistake then,” she said tightly, struggling to break his grip so that she could turn and leave. “Let me go, Spike. I won’t bother you anymore.”

He could smell the angry tears trembling in her eyes as she tried to get away from him. Suddenly, his own anger leapt up to match hers.

“Are you really that bloody stupid, Slayer?” he snarled. “I’m not like the whelp. I can’t pretend to be your friend when that’s not what I’m feeling for you. I don’t know what the hell you think a ‘summer fling’ is, but I can’t turn off what I’m feeling just because the soddin’ seasons are changing.”

He glared at her, his breath coming in totally unnecessary gasps as he waited for her response. She glared back at him as long as she could, then her face crumpled and she sagged into him.

He immediately wrapped his arms all the way round her and dropped his face down onto the top of her head. Her arms crept around his waist and they stood silently until he felt Buffy sniffle against his chest.

“Gettin’ Slayer snot on me, then, are you?” he said, smiling down at her embarrassed face. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her, moving away to give her some privacy while she wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

He was afraid to start talking again until she gave him some sign of where they stood with each other, so he picked up his clothes and dropped down to the lower level. He was changing into clean jeans and shirt when he heard a small noise on the ladder. He glanced up, his pants on but not fastened yet, his shirt in his hand.

Buffy was standing on the ladder, part way down and looking around the lower chamber curiously.

“I didn’t know this was here,” she said shyly. She deliberately kept her gaze away from his bare chest and abdomen, not wanting to be tempted until she figured out where they were with each other.

“Yeah, well, ‘s not like I spend a lot of time down here,” he said gruffly. “Especially lately,” he added, then cursed himself when he saw her flinch.

Buffy walked slowly around the large space, noting the bookshelves with the well-worn volumes of poetry. There was a large armoire and a dresser, with a mirror that seemed wasted on a vampire. She supposed it must have come with the dresser and Spike just hadn’t bothered to remove it. She wondered briefly if it was there because he’d had other human women in his bedroom and felt her stomach cramp at the thought.

She shot a look at the large four poster bed she’d been ignoring up till then and tried to picture Spike sleeping in the rich bedding covering it. She remembered what Angel had said about Spike not needing to steal and gamble for money and she took another hard look around the room. Buffy couldn’t be sure, not having her mother’s knowledge of furniture and art, but thought she might be looking at a room on which someone had spent a lot of money on very fine furnishings.

Spike sat down on the edge of the bed and began to pull on his boots.

“So, Slayer,” he said as casually as he could, “made up your mind what you want to do yet?”

“About what?” she asked, avoiding his eyes by studying the titles of the books on his shelves.

She heard a snort of exasperation as he threw himself backwards on the bed, glaring at the ceiling. He stayed there for several minutes, then sat up abruptly and pulled his shirt on, and tied his boots.

“Ok then, pet. Have it your way. When you suss it out, let me know, yeah?”

He stood up and pulled on his leather coat. “I’m goin’ to go kill something. Are you coming with me or do you want to stay here until I get back?”

Without answering, she moved to the ladder and quickly climbed up into the crypt. She watched without speaking as Spike pulled the cover back on to the sarcophagus that covered the entrance to his bedroom. Still not speaking, they left the crypt and began their patrol, quickly dusting any newly risen vamps they encountered. There was no playing with their prey, no clever quips from the Slayer, no snarky remarks from the vampire. Just two blond killing machines methodically working their way through Sunnydale’s numerous cemeteries.

When then had cleared out the last cemetery on their rounds, they found themselves near the campus of Sunnydale University and Buffy let her feet carry her to a bench on the grounds. When she sat down and rested her head on the back of the bench, Spike looked at her quizzically for a second, then dropped onto the bench beside her and tilted his head back. They sat in relatively comfortable silence for several minutes, watching the stars flicker in and out as clouds blew across the sky. When he couldn’t stand the silence any longer, the vampire turned his head toward her and asked, “Are we lookin’ for anything in particular up there, Slayer?”

She tipped her own head toward him and met his eyes for the first time all night.

“Answers?” she ventured.

“Don’t think the answers are up there, love,” he said softly.

“I suppose not,” she said with a sigh. She stuck her lip out in a pout. “I don’t see why they can’t be. This should be easy. Me Slayer, you vampire.”

“Me William, you Buffy,” he gently reminded her and was rewarded with a sad smile as she scooted a little closer on the bench. She looked into his darkened eyes with complete honesty.

“I wish it was that simple,” she said slowly. After another pause in which she searched his face as though the answer might lie there, she said candidly. “I don’t know how to do this, William. I don’t know how to have you and my friends at the same time.”

He leaned over and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Let’s just see what happens, pet. It’s not like everybody’s coming home on the same day. Or like we need to invite them to watch us shaggin’.” He chuckled at her shocked gasp.

“My patrollin’ with you shouldn’t give anybody problems. Even the Watcher can’t object to havin’ somebody watch your back. What else we might be doin’ when they’re not around is nobody’s business but ours.”

There was a very heavy silence while they both avoided thinking about the one person who would most definitely think what they did away from prying eyes was his business. Since he wasn’t due back for another couple of weeks, Buffy put all thoughts of Riley and her relationship with him in the back of her mind to be worried about later.

“So, pet,” he said, changing the subject, “back to school soon?”

“Yeah, I registered today.” She looked up at him slyly. “I signed up for another poetry class. Figured I probably know somebody who can help me with it if it gets too hard. Maybe even help me write some...”

Spike gave the first genuine laugh of the evening. “Trust me, love. You do NOT want me helpin’ you write the bloody stuff!”

In spite of her badgering, he refused to tell her why he found that idea so funny and they walked away arguing and laughing, not noticing the shadow that watched them from the corner of a building.


Chapter Ten

They walked in comfortable silence for several blocks before Spike reached for Buffy’s hand and she moved slightly closer to allow him to take it. It felt so natural and right to be walking together through the darkness, that any worries about the upcoming weeks faded away.

Buffy felt her heart speed up when they came to the intersection of the road leading to Restfield and Revello Drive. As one, they stopped to look at each other, neither one quite sure what to say or do next.

As usual, it was the vampire who broke the silence as he ghosted his free hand over her cheek.

“We never did get our last night in bed, love,” he said carefully. If his heart could beat it would have been racing as he waited to hear her response.

“No, we didn’t,” she agreed in a whisper. “I...I was lonely last night...without you,” she added, still whispering. “Did...did you miss me?”

He pulled her into his chest with a groan. “Missed you the minute I left the house, pet. Never want to be without you in my bed. Never.”

“I’ve never been in YOUR bed,” she said slowly, running her fingers down the front of his shirt. “You really don’t know if you like me there or not.”

“Then, don’t you think we need to find out?” he purred, running his tongue down the side of her neck.

“Well, yes, I suppose there’s no sense missin—eep!” She was cut off when he scooped her up and began walking toward the cemetery gate with long strides, his leather coat billowing behind him.

Buffy tried to sound indignant as she squirmed around and giggled, “I can walk by myself you know! Super power girl, here, remember?”

“Oh, I remember, love. Trust me. I expect to be enjoying those super powers very soon.” He gave her one of his best leers.

When they reached his crypt, he kicked open the door and carried her all the way in before letting go and allowing her feet to slide to the floor. She kept her arms around his neck and turned to press up against his already eager body.

“So, do I get to try out that fancy bed this time?” she breathed, kissing her way from his neck up over his jaw to his waiting mouth.

Without answering, he kissed her hard then broke away to close the crypt door and walk over to uncover the entrance to the lower area. Buffy hurried to help him move the heavy sarcophagus lid, then waited as he dropped down to light some candles. As soon as there was light flickering below, she climbed down, only to be gripped in strong arms before she reached the bottom.

She wrapped her legs around the vampire’s waist as he lifted her up and fastened his mouth on hers. Never taking his mobile lips off the needy mouth devouring them, he walked to the bed and fell onto the soft mattress with her legs still clutching him. Even though it had been less than forty-eight hours since they last made love, the urgency was almost overwhelming for both of them.

They lay on the bed, grinding their pelvises together until the need to feel bare skin became overwhelming and they broke apart long enough to peel off their clothes. As soon as they were both naked, he pinned her to the bed and nudged her legs apart, pressing his hard shaft against her already dripping entrance.

“No foreplay?’ she gasped, even as she lifted her hips to meet him.

“Fuck foreplay,” he growled. “Need to be in you. Now.”

“Wouldn’t that be ‘fuck Buffy’?” she quipped, pulling him into her waiting warmth. She sighed in relief when she felt herself filled with his cool length and she squeezed gently in welcome.

He lay still on top of her, basking in her warmth and the sensation of having her around him again.

“Ah, love. You feel so good. Want to stay like this forever. Never want to leave here. Don’t make me leave, Buffy. Let me stay.”

Buffy lowered her legs and wrapped them around his thighs as she slid her arms around his muscular back and stoked it softly. Their lips and tongues met and tangled, as their bodies melted together into an intimate comfort zone.

“I wasn’t planning to let you leave any time soon,” she murmured, wishing she had his eloquence during sex. Knowing she didn’t, she answered as best she could by continuing her gentle squeezing, smiling at the growls and gasps she was evoking.

“Buffy...pet...love...Slayer! You need to stop...doing...that...or...I...won’t—“

He stopped his protests as the breathing patterns and increased heart rate that he’d learned to associate with her orgasms told him she was just as close as he was. With a happy groan, he surrendered to the building pressure and let her squeeze his release from him without either of them actually moving their bodies.

He shouted his pleasure into her neck and felt her teeth clench onto his shoulder as she shuddered beneath him. He immediately fastened his lips on his marks, sucking her skin into his mouth fiercely. He felt the blood being pulled to the surface and fought his demon’s urge to use his teeth on the soft flesh before him.

As soon as Spike began sucking on her throat, Buffy felt another orgasmic jolt go through her body and she arched up into him, moaning his name. When he stopped sucking on her skin and began purring and licking gently at the reddened area, she relaxed immediately and almost purred herself.

She could feel everything as the claim struggled to complete the connection between them. She told herself she should be wigged that a soulless vampire was in love with her, but somehow it seemed more comforting than frightening. There was something about lying under his cool body and letting the love wash over her that made her feel very safe and secure.

He was floating...suspended on a cushion of peace and tranquility that was like nothing he’d ever felt before. Even though he hadn’t pulled any of her blood into his throat, he could feel her within him as never before. He felt her acceptance of his love, her tentative attempt to return it, and her complete willingness to allow his demon access to her blood.

Eventually he rolled off, pulling her with him so that they were lying side-by-side, Buffy’s leg thrown over his and her head resting on his chest. He absently stroked the skin on her arm as he thought about what had just happened.

(I felt her. Know I did. She felt me too. This’ll be what the Watcher will go off about. I’ve half -claimed his Slayer. )

Elation warred with worry as he thought about their situation and wondered how much to tell her.

(Claim isn’t gonna mean a thing to the bloody soldier. He won’t respect it the way another vamp would, even if he knows what it is. And the chip won’t let the demon protect his rights. I’d be unconscious before I could take down that overgrown hayseed with his drug-enhanced muscles. She didn’t accept it, so it probably won’t effect her that much...)

“Spike?” Buffy’s worried voice brought him out of his thoughts and he turned his head to see her looking up at him curiously.

“Yeah, love, ‘m here. Just got distracted for a sec.”

“Should I be offended? We just made love and you’re thinking about something else?” She mock-pouted at him.

He smiled at her warmly and raised an eyebrow. “Trust me, sweetheart, I wasn’t thinkin’ about anything else but us and what we did. Speaking of which,” he tried for a change of subject, “where’d you learn that little trick – or do I even want to know?”

She colored and lowered her eyes briefly. “It just felt so good to be together like we were, I didn’t want you to move, so I thought I’d... Did you like it?”

“What d’you think?” he asked, pulling her up so he could kiss her swollen lips. “I just can’t believe YOU got off on it.”

“One of the benefits of Slayer muscles,” she said, blushing furiously.

“You mean, you already knew you could come like that?” He took in her embarrassed face and chuckled, “Why you little minx. I’ll bet you’ve been practicin’ that since you were called.”

“I have not!” she blurted, smacking his chest when he laughed at her. “Anyway, it’s not like I do it all the time or anything. I just ...never mind. This is sooo none of your business!”

He grabbed the fists that were flailing at his chest and pinned her arms to her sides while he continued to laugh. As his laughter tapered off to soft chuckles, she grudgingly began to smile with him. Nudging him with her nose, she said, “I’ll bet you’re just jealous cause you can’t do that to yourself.”

“Prob’ly right, pet. S’good thing though or I’d been dust a long time ago, what with losin’ my concentration every time I flexed a muscle...”

“Knowing you, you would have been flexing all the time,” she grinned at him.

“Oh, no doubt about it, love. I definitely would.” He grinned back at her. Changing his mood, he asked more seriously, “So, love, how do you like m’bed? Does it suit you? Feel like you could spend some time here?”

(Bloody hell! Could I sound any more like a wanker?)

She stretched and looked around before snuggling against him again.

“It’s pretty comfy, I’ve got to say.” She planted a kiss on his chest and sighed. “You know I can’t stay here, don’t you? Mom hasn’t mentioned last night yet, but if I don’t come home tonight...”

“I know, love,” he agreed, resting his chin on the top of her head. “I just hate the thought of goin’ to sleep or wakin’ up without you.”

“Me too,” she admitted softly. “I couldn’t sleep last night. The bed seemed so empty without... But we need to get used to it,” she said with sudden determination. “It’s just not gonna happen anymore.”

She felt his body flinch and then gasped as an additional pang went through her from the bite marks. He squeezed her apologetically and shut down the connection as best he could.

“Did you sleep OK?” She suddenly looked up at him.

“Uh...if passin’ out counts as sleepin’, I guess I did.”

When she rolled her eyes, he protested, “Hey! I had issues – needed some conversation with my friend Jack.” At her blank stare he added, “Daniels, pet. Jack Daniels. Maybe you’ve heard of it? Liquid comfort?”

She shook her head and sat up reluctantly.

“On that disgusting note...” She began searching for her clothes and tossing them on the bed.

He watched her with admiring eyes, remembering how shy and embarrassed she’d been about her nudity at the beginning of the summer. Now, she walked around the room, paused to look in the mirror and run her fingers through her hair, shot him a dirty look when she saw the enormous hickey on her neck, and strolled back to the bed without the slightest trace of shyness.

When she started pulling on her clothes, he sighed in resignation and reached for his pants.

“What are you doing?” she asked in genuine confusion.

“You don’t think I’m goin’ let you walk home alone do you?” he said gruffly. “I was, contrary to what you may think, raised to be a gentleman.”

She gave a snort of disbelief, more because she knew he was expecting it than because she didn’t believe him.

“Anyway,” he said, watching her ass swaying up the ladder in front of him, “Got to see that my girl gets home safe. Doesn’t get scared by those things that go bump in the night.”

She shook her head at him and shot back, “I’m the thing that the things that go bump in the night are afraid of. Remember, vampire?”

“Well then, it’s my duty as a member of the undead to see that you don’t terrorize any law abiding demons you find on the way home. Either way, I’m going with you, so get used to it.”

She looked at him with puzzled eyes for a minute. “You know, when Angel used to treat me like I was fragile, I would get really pissed at him. And when Riley wants to protect me...” She shuddered briefly. “What makes you think you can get away with it?”

“Because, Slayer, you know that I know that you can take care of yourself. I’m here because I want to be, not because I think you need me. ‘S matter of fact, I expect YOU to protect ME.” He smirked at her and laughed when she rolled her eyes.

They walked the rest of the way quickly, teasing each other gently. When they reached the Summers’ house, they burst in the back door together, laughing and shushing each other so as not to wake Buffy’s mom.

They stopped abruptly when the man sleeping on the kitchen counter raised his head to look at them with bleary eyes. As he woke up more, his gaze shifted from Buffy to the suddenly dead still vampire behind her and he stood up slowly.





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