Bite Me…Stake Me…Do Me
Chapter One
‘This isn’t bleedin’ funny, Slayer.’
‘Oh, quit whining, you big baby.’
‘Not whining. But you just had to let them go when I was bleedin’ winning–didn’t you? Just couldn’t let a bloke have some fun for once, could ya?’ he grumbled striding as quickly as he could back to the crypt.
Lagging behind, Buffy made her way on drunken legs as she followed him. ‘It was a stupid way to try and help me,’ she snapped back.
He whirled on her startling her into jumping back. Her hand shot out, grabbing his duster to steady herself as she wobbled dangerously. Spike scowled at her. ‘No it wasn’t. Those kittens were worth big bucks, you silly bint.’
‘I am not bent,’ she snapped mishearing him.
‘Bint! You! Stupid! BINT!’ he growled, ‘Not bent.’ He threw his hands up and swept away from her, ignoring the soft thud behind him as she fell over.
Storming away, he heard her struggling to gain her feet again. ’Stupid bloody woman,’ he muttered under his breath.
‘I am not stupid! You’re stupid, and kitten poker is stupid–but I’m not stupid,’ she huffed chasing after him. ‘What the hell is a bint anyway?’
Spike ignored her. The crypt was in sight and he picked up his pace with a strong desire to ditch her, leaving her to stand staring at his crypt door. After what she’d just done, she was the last person he wanted to spend any time with. Bitch ruined a bloody good game of poker and made me look like a pussy whipped moron, he grumbled to himself.
He was beyond annoyed with her. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw she’d fallen behind again. Nearly at the door, he put on an extra burst of speed hoping to lose her.
Buffy saw what he was trying to do and hurried after him. There was no way she was going to let him leave her outside when they were in the middle of an argument. ‘Well, you didn’t answer my question–what’s a bint?’ she shouted dodging a headstone. She scowled at the grave marker, sure that it hadn’t been there earlier, and equally sure that it had moved into her path to try and trip her up.
‘You are,’ Spike called over his shoulder.
‘You’re insulting me–aren’t you–‘ She broke off screaming as the toe of her boot caught on a flat marker tripping her over the back of a much larger headstone. She fell, arms and legs flaying in all directions to land flat on her face in the freshly turned dirt of the new grave. ‘Ouch… ouch…’ she moaned rubbing her elbow. Rolling over she felt the damp earth shift slightly under her as it settled further back on the coffin six-feet down. She gave a rather undignified ‘Epee’ and tried to get up. Only her arms and legs didn’t seem to want to work properly.
Spike’s deep laugh froze her. Looking up she glared at him. ‘It’ss not funny,’ she spluttered slumping back.
‘It is from where I’m standing,’ he replied not bothering to hide his amusement. She was sprawled on her back over the grave, mud and dirt all over her hands, face and clothes…and as she’d landed with her head close to the stone, she had a couple of limp and bruised flowers stuck in her hair. She looked a right sight.
Grinning crookedly, he offered her a hand up.
Throwing him a dirty look, she batted his hand away and managed to haul herself up. ‘Oh, ha, ha…very funny. So I tripped–big deal. You’d have tripped too if…if…’ She struggled to think of something. Then, considering her drunken state, something feasible popped into her head. ‘Ahh…you’d have tripped too if you didn’t have vampy eyesight,’ she said triumphantly, proud that she sounded totally correct.
‘Yes, pet. Clearly my super-duper vampy eyesight saved me from falling face first in the muck over a two-foot lump of stone,’ he drawled sarcastically.
‘Well I’m tired. I’ve had a long day,’ she said blushing and dusting herself down.
He snorted and turned away again.
Buffy seeing that he was about to leave her again raced after him, grabbing the sleeve of his duster as insurance. He wasn’t going to get away from her.
Brows knotting in annoyance, Spike glared at the dirty fingers curled around his precious leather coat. ‘Oi, watch the hide.’
‘Oh, don’t give me that, Mr. I-live-in-a-disgusting-dirty-crypt.’
‘Oi, I’ll have you know my crypt is not dirty. Dusty, yes–but not dirty.’
They were at the door now. Drunk or not Spike was too much the gent to just shove her off, and so, left with no choice, he was forced to let her follow him inside. As she let go of his coat, he strode quickly to the dusty corner where he kept his booze. He needed a slug in the worst possible way. Sobering up at this moment in time was not a good idea–he might stop being mad at her–and he wanted to be mad at her. Being mad at her meant he wasn’t thinking about her in any other way.
Sucking on the bottle of whiskey, he let nearly half the contents slide down his throat before smacking his lips noisily and wiping his mouth on the cuff of his duster. He scowled when he noticed the muddy fingerprints. Turning with every intention of giving the Slayer a piece of his mind he about-faced, only to find her fast asleep in his chair.
Stomping over, he nudged her with the toe of his boot. ‘Oh, no you don’t. If all you wanted to do was sleep then you should’ve gone home.’ He reached down to pull her up and ended up dodging her fist as she swung at him in a semi-conscious state. Growling at her, he yanked her up by the lapels of her jacket. ‘None of that now, Slayer. Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s not nice to play dirty with your drinking buddies?’
Grinning she looked up at him. ‘Ha, ha…play dirty,’ she giggled and swiped a muddy hand over his cheek smearing his face with a glob of loamy dirt. ‘Drinking buddies play dirty…ooooh…’
Pulling a face, Spike let her go and quickly wiped his face. ‘Bloody stupid bint can’t hold her soddin’ liquor,’ he muttered. ‘Bloody hell,’ he groaned when he saw she’d once more slumped into his chair. ‘Buffy… Buffy… Come on, pet, you have to leave. Your Watcher will stake me if you spend the night here. And what about Dawn? She’s bound to be all worried about you…?’
Elbow propped on the arm of the chair, Buffy rested her chin on her hand wondering why she couldn’t get her eyes to stay open. ‘No she won’t. She’s with Tara. And Giles and Willow are at a magic convention in New Orleans, where I’m told all the best magic conventions are held,’ she mumbled tiredly.
Heaving a great sigh, Spike threw his arms up in defeat. ‘Fine stay there for a bit. But I want you out of here in an hour,’ he grumbled turning on the TV and settling himself on the floor to lean back against the chair and watch late night Passions. A soft snore from the chair behind him had him shooting her a pissed off look.
*~*~*~*~*
Three hours later…
‘And I bet you, you can’t.’
‘And I tell you I can,’ Spike grinned at her.
Wide awake now, Buffy was pouncing on the edge of Spike’s one and only comfy chair, her face alight with mischief. Far from going home after she had napped as Spike watched his programmes, they were in the middle of yet another argument, only this one was much more good natured. And Buffy guessed if there was one good thing in Spike’s favor, it was that he never seemed to hold a grudge against her. And except for one snarky comment about his lost kittens when she first woke up, he’d let the whole silly matter drop.
Now he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, in the middle of an inadvertent, but light-hearted round of one-up-manship. It had started with Buffy laughing at him for his obsession with Passions. Naturally he defended the quality of the plotlines and the talent of the actors, running off a mind-boggling amount of facts about the show, trying to prove to her that it was worthy of his devotion. Buffy rolled her eyes, which her head instantly protested with blinding pain. She rubbed her aching sockets. Note to self: Don’t ever go drinking with Spike again…urgggh! Not that she felt in anyway sober. Her head throbbed and her throat was bone dry.
Eyeing the bottle of whiskey between them, she snatched it up and took a quick slug–just to ease the dryness in her throat you understand. She pulled a sour face.
Of course she couldn’t let a chance to rile him pass her by, and so she challenged him to name all the characters from the show–in alphabetical order. Without even pausing for breath, which he didn’t need anyway, he spewed a list of names as long as your arm, ending with a grin and making an excellent point by telling her she wouldn’t know if he’d got it wrong anyway since she didn’t watch the show.
Sneering, she stuck her tongue out at him which made him laugh. After that, things just went from bad to worse and they kept throwing challenges at each other, laughing and gasping whenever they messed up totally unaware that the two of them were as drunk as lords.
Until now. ‘Okay, prove it.’
‘You want me to prove it, pet?’
‘Yeah, I want you to prove it, mate,’ she added poking him in the chest. Oooh, firm chest. Bad Buffy, stop that.
‘So if this is a bet, what are you willing to put up?’
‘Oh, I don’t know…’ she muttered checking her pockets for cash. ‘Hah, I got a twenty.’ She waved it in the air then quickly snatched it back again, saying, ‘No, wait. I can’t bet this. I need this to get Dawn some new school supplies for Monday.’
Laughing at her, Spike snorted.
‘What?’ she questioned indignantly.
‘Nothing.’
‘Yes it is. What is it?’ she demanded.
Spike shrugged still laughing. ‘Oh, it just strikes me as funny, pet. Here you are, the big-bad-Slayer, scourge of all demon kind and you’re all in a tizzy hording your measly twenty, coz you gotta buy little bit’s pencils for school. If only all the other demons could see you now, they’d all fall over laughing, coz that was lame, pet.’
She pulled a face. ‘No it wasn’t. And neither was it funny, so stop laughing.’
‘Sure it was.’
‘Was not.’
‘Was!’
Her ire was rising now. ‘Well, you’re stupid.’
‘And you’re lame.’
‘Well, you’re–’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, stop being such a bleedin’ juvenile and bet something already,’ he protested loudly.
‘But I haven’t got any cash,’ she whined.
‘Fine, then it’ll have to be a forfeit…’ he pondered for a moment while he deliberated over what would be a suitable forfeit for the Slayer. ‘Okay, if I succeed then you have to drink the rest of this bottle in one go,’ he said waving the quarter full whiskey bottle under her nose.
Buffy eyed the whiskey nervously. Taking a small quick slug every now and then was one thing, but to drink that much in one go might actually make her sick. Her stomach turned over.
Seeing her green tinged face, Spike chuckled. ‘What? Not chicken are ya?’
His taunt had quite an impact. Through narrowed eyes, she gave him a look and snatched the bottle from his hand. ‘Noooo, I just don’t want to end up with stinky whiskey breath like you, is all.’
He smirked which told her he didn’t believe her. ‘So you accept the challenge?’
‘First tell me what you’ll do if you lose?’
‘I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me what you want me to do?’
Buffy’s eyes lit up. ‘Ooooh, give me driving lessons.’
Spluttering and coughing, Spike choked on his whiskey. ‘No bleedin’ way, sweetheart. Like over my undead body is there any chance of me ever letting you behind the wheel of my car,’ he gasped at her.
The slow, half drunk smile she gave him had him arching a dark brow at her. ‘What? Not chicken are ya?’
‘No! More like scared shitless. I’ve seen the way you drive. You’d kill more people behind the wheel of a car in one night than I could in a month with this soddin’ chip removed.’
Buffy growled in vexation as the insult stung.
‘Actually that’s not such a bad idea. How about if I steal a car and let you loose on the town? It’d be fun,’ he guffawed smirking at her.
Buffy sneered at him. ‘Oh, hardy, ha, ha…’
‘I can just see the headlines in the Sunnydale Gazette…Slayer Slays Dozens…’ he laughed.
‘Okay, so not funny. Drop it already,’ she muttered through clenched teeth.
Spike laughed.
‘Then if you’re too chicken-shit to let me drive your car, you can come over to my house every night for a week and do all the housework…and help Dawn with her homework.’
Totally deaf to the part about the housework, all Spike heard was that he’d get to spend a whole week with the Summers’ girls. He grinned. ‘Done!’ he declared and stuck his hand out to shake.
No sooner had Buffy shook his hand and he was on his feet. ‘Right, sit back and watch, Slayer,’ he said going to the far side of the crypt. Once there he flipped himself up onto his hands and proceeded to walk the length of the crypt on his hands.
Buffy stared, willing him to fall flat on his stupid face. But then as he made his way across the room she noticed his shirt slipping down towards his head, exposing a very interesting view of his sculptured chest. Oooh, nice… She twisted her body, letting her head fall so she could try and see what he should look like if he were upright. Ooooh, very nice…very hot!
Suddenly she realized he’d reached the other side of the crypt. Dropping his feet back on the floor, he straightened up.
‘I win!’ he crowed. ‘Now drink the whiskey,’ he demanded grinning at her.
Grimacing, Buffy wiped the neck of the bottle and raised it to her lips. ‘Okay, but if I barf you’re cleaning it up,’ she told him. Quickly she scrunched her eyes up tight and started to drink. Ten seconds later she was still drinking. Why didn’t I think to pour some away when he was distracted? I’m such a moron. Fifteen seconds later, she was still drinking, but at twenty seconds she finally pulled the empty bottle away from her lips, unable to hide the fact that she felt sick to her stomach. Pulling a face, she shuddered. ‘Uurrrgh!’
‘Whoa…good on ya, Slayer…’ Spike slapped her on the back ‘…I didn’t think you had it in ya.’
Clutching her stomach, Buffy was pretty sure it wasn’t going to be in her for long. ‘God, I wanna hurl,’ she moaned.
Spike laughed. ‘So now I’ve met and beaten your challenge, you have to try and beat one of mine,’ he told her.
Still groaning, she shook her head. ‘Do not,’ she muttered miserably wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, trying to contain the urge to spew.
‘Do too. It’s the rules, everyone knows it.’
‘Is not…do not…’
‘Is too, and don’t start that again. Now let me think… What challenge can I give you,’ he said pondering as he rubbed his jaw in serious thought. ‘Okay, I’ll go easy on you…’
That got her back up. ‘Oh, please don’t spare me Mr. Big-bad-chipped-vampire,’ she snarked. ‘Bring it on. I can handle anything your evil brain can devise,’ she boasted foolishly.
Spike couldn’t remember when he’d last had this much fun. The Slayer had been half sloshed all night, but now–now she was three sheets to the wind–or to put it differently, she was pissed. It was too good a chance to pass up, especially as she now seemed to be entering the stage when she’d damn near walk into anything he suggested just so she didn’t lose face.
‘Yeah, sure. You’re clutching your belly and groaning like you’re on the rag. You’re such a girl, Slayer.’
‘I am not,’ she spluttered indignantly.
‘Are too. And since I think you’re such a girl…’ he gazed at her mouth ‘…I challenge you to put that stinky whiskey breath to the test and kiss me–with tongues–for at least thirty seconds…’
‘Fuck you!’
That made him laugh and he had to bite his tongue before he stupidly replied “Yes, please.” ‘All right–twenty seconds, but that’s my final offer, coz it had to take me at least two minutes to cross the crypt on my hands. So a twenty second kiss should be a breeze.’
‘And it would be, if it were anyone else,’ she snapped unable to tear her eyes away from his mouth. Putting her hand on the floor, she shook her head as his image went fuzzy. Fuzzy Spike, she giggled.
‘Then you’ll have to go straight to the forfeit, pet.’
‘Yes, good idea.’ Pausing she blinked, trying to get him back into focus. When he didn’t say anything she looked at him–or rather she squinted at him. He was looking far too pleased with himself for her peace of mind. Then she realized he hadn’t told her what the forfeit was. She felt a shudder go through her…or possibly her stomach was about to eject all the booze she’d just guzzled. ‘What’s the forfeit?’ she asked a note of nervousness making her voice wobble.
Spike was proud of himself. He had the Slayer right where he wanted her. The night had started out pretty good–he was hanging out with a bunch of other demons, laying low on the feast of all Hollows Eve, winning at kitty poker and having a good laugh when the bloody Slayer, who had tagged along ‘cause she never had anything better to do at Halloween, had drunkenly started a fight with another vampire and an obscure demon that looked like a five-foot slug, and got the two of them thrown out, sans his winnings, and thus ruining his fun. Only now she was even drunker and backed neatly into a corner of his creation.
One way or another, he was going to leave his mark on her tonight. A kiss or…
‘You have to get a tattoo of my choosing.’
‘What!! No, fucking way,’ she yelled, ‘games over.’ She struggled to unlock her legs and rise.
She was nearly at the door when Spike caught her and spun her round. ‘Yes, way. I met your challenge, now you have to meet mine or do the forfeit, Slayer. And if you don’t I’ll tell Giles and all the Scoobies what you wanted me to do to you when we were under Willow’s “Thy will be done spell” just you see if I don’t,’ he threatened.
Wide-eyed, Buffy gasped and covered her mouth horrified that he would even bring that subject up, let alone try to use it against her. God, I hate him, the big bleached bastard! ‘You promised you would never, ever talk about that,’ she hissed through clenched teeth.
‘Yeah, an’ you promised you’d see this game through to the end, Goldilocks,’ he retorted angrily.
Buffy’s face fell. Well, he had her there. She had promised she’d see the game through. The urge to punch him right then was damn near overwhelming. Her gaze dropped to his mouth. Could she do it–could she kiss him? Well, she’d done it before, but that had been a spell…
She stared long and hard at his mouth.
There was no spell this time to cushion her injured pride. She’d have to kiss him without the comfort of being able to blame it on a mind altering hex. But then again she had drank a lot of whiskey–she could always blame it on the booze if he ever tried to throw it in her face.
But this was Spike–Spike the pain in her butt, the chipped pest, the snarky, loud-mouth, foul-mouthed British I’m-going-to-kill-you-Slayer, Spike. She couldn’t kiss him. It’d be like kissing…Frankenstein…no, the Beast from Beauty and the Beast. How could she kiss him?
But then how could she give him the satisfaction of lording it over her if she backed out now? And the forfeit was a tattoo for God’s sake! And she just knew he’d choose something big and ugly that she wouldn’t be able to hide.
She shuddered as visions of a fist sized skull ‘n’ crossbones, or worse, a naked woman etched on her arm swam before her eyes.
That certainly gave her pause. She gazed at his mouth. He had a nice mouth. Not as nice as Riley’s and not as sensual as Angel’s–but still nice looking, she told herself.
Aww, who was she kidding. She didn’t really have a choice here. It was either kiss him for twenty seconds or suffer a tattoo for life.
‘Okay, okay, I’ll kiss you. But no tongues!’
He shook his head. ‘It’s not a proper kiss without tongues. Besides, how can I test your stinky whiskey breath unless you open your mouth.’ She was glaring at him, but he didn’t let that bother him. He was getting his kiss or she was getting a tat. ‘What are you worried about? It’s not as if I’m going to brag about it to all the other demons. They hate me already for helping you. If I confess to kissing you my unlife won’t be worth living,’ he pointed out.
Well, he had a point there, and she certainly wasn’t planning on telling any of her friends about it either.
‘Twenty second and not a single second more. And if you try anything funny I will stake your ass,’ she warned. ‘And that means no hands.’
He smirked. ‘I don’t need hands, darlin’–see?’ He backed her up against the crypt wall, pinning her with his body, his hands safely placed either side of her head.
She gazed up at him, wanting to kick herself all over again for giving him the perfect opportunity to manipulate her. Taking a deep sigh, she decided to just get this over and done with.
Rising onto her toes, she pressed her lips to his. Instantly, he took command and pressed his tongue insistently against the seam of her mouth. Eyes open, Buffy let him in. His tongue slipped over hers in what she could only describe as a sensual caress, and was nothing like how she remembered his kisses from Willow’s spell. And nothing like either Angel’s or Riley’s kisses either. This kiss was pure sex–erotic and incredibly hot.
Against her will, her eyes drifted shut and as they did all sensation was suddenly and most shockingly amplified. She heard him moan in pleasure and felt the echo of it rumble through his chest pressed tight to hers. And then she became shockingly aware of something else pressing against her.
Oh, my God–he’s turned on!
With a shocked squeal, she tore her mouth away from his and pushed him violently away. Spluttering and gagging, she kept wiping her mouth as if to rid herself of his taste. When she finally stopped, she noticed the dirty grin on his face. Why that dirty rotten, bastard… I’m so gonna stake him…
Through narrowed eyes, she watched him gather his duster and shrug into it. ‘You lose, pet. So now you know what that means?’
‘You cheated!’ she accused getting all worked up and in a fluster as she paced about. ‘You…you…you…’ she spluttered pointing in the general direction of his crotch.
‘I what, luv?’
‘Don’t try that with me. You know damn well what you did!’
‘I didn’t do anything. You’re the one who kissed me,’ he said innocently.
Gritting her teeth she gave a muffled squeal.
Spike laughed. ‘And I didn’t lay a hand on you.’
In angry frustration she squealed again.
‘It’s not my fault you kiss like an erotic wet dream. And neither is it my fault if my body reacted in a totally natural and spontaneous way. I’m just a bloke, luv…you can’t blame me for that.’
She was standing stock still in the middle of the crypt, hands clenched in angry fists at her sides, blowing great huffs of air out through her nose in noisy drafts with her lips clamped firmly shut.
Spike knew he’d pissed her off. But a bet was a bet–or a dare was a dare. But whichever way you wanted to look at it, she’d accepted his challenged and lost and now she had to pay the price. There was an all night tattoo parlour in town that had a seat with her name on it. He opened the door bowing mockingly to her to precede him out.
‘Double or nothing!’ she snapped a wild light filling her eyes.
*~*~*~*~*
TBC…
Thanks and praise for the wonderful Tahmoe (also known as greyminion to me), my fantastically hard working beta—YAY! *Hugs*