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Author's Chapter Notes:
Here it is folks, the idea that set up home in my head, months before I worked up the nerve to put finger to keyboard. This idea has been screaming at me since long before I made my smutty debut and I’m so glad to have finally written it down. This is my baby... my own personal gripe fic, and my attempt to right the Spike bashing wrongness of series six!

Beta’d by Dawnof me

I hope you enjoy your trip into the Spuffy loving land of denial that is my brain, and thank you to dawnofme, amyxaphania, maryperk73703, ssddgr and dragonflylady for your help and encouragement to bite the bullet in the first place. *hugs and kisses*


Cradled in the cold metal of the slide, Buffy groaned as Spike shifted his body to lie between her welcoming thighs. Thankfully, his weight felt comfortable upon her, as opposed to the hulking forms of Angel or Riley. Shaking all unwelcome thoughts of former lovers from her head, Buffy wrapped her legs around their perfectly aligned hips, and ground her centre against—

Whoa, hello there! Buffy thought. Add another tick to the Spike lovage column.

Warmth spread throughout the Slayer’s body, as the cool hand at her cheek traced the contours of her arm before coming to rest at her slender waist. Her oxygen deprived lungs screamed for air, but Buffy was loath to end their embrace. Desperately, she tangled both hands in Spike’s silken hair, kissing him impatiently. A wave of light-headedness threatened to envelop her and she gasped as Spike broke their heated clinch, dropping a tender kiss to her exposed collarbone. Trembling with excitement, Buffy lay beneath his compact frame, panting heavily as her over-sensitised body fought to keep up with its passionate demands.

Despite the two layers of fabric between them, the searing heat of her sex caused Spike’s cock to harden. His mind was inundated with thoughts of how it would feel to bury himself deep within her body. Captivated, he imagined the exhilarating cries she would utter, the whispered words of encouragement and eventual pleas for mercy—the delicious sounds he had only ever dreamed her making as his cock thrust inside her.

“Sweetheart,” Spike murmured against her throat. “You’re too good to play with me, an’ I couldn’t bear it if...” His words faded into a hoarse whisper and he swallowed audibly. “Please, Buffy, don’t give me this if you’re plannin’ to take it away again. You know how I feel, yeah?”

A tender smile graced her lips as she whispered against his cheek. “You love me.”

Sighing deeply, Spike brushed a kiss across her forehead and raised his eyes to implore her. “You can’t tell me you want this an’ then say there’s nothin’ between us. I need you to be sure, pet. ‘Cause if we do this, I’ll never let you go. You understand that, right?”

There was no mistaking the raw need in his voice, and Buffy’s heart ached when she heard it. She’d taken so much from him, and not once had he ever really asked for anything in return. Looking into Spike’s eyes it was suddenly all so simple, and she felt awful for not having given it to him sooner.

“I wouldn’t do that to you, Spike.” Buffy relinquished her grip on his soft curls and cupped his face. One slender digit traced over his scarred eyebrow whilst her other hand gently smoothed over his cheekbone. “I’m not going to lie to you, my life is so with the confusing and scary right now... but I want this. I want you.” The resultant smile that lit up Spike’s features was enough to banish any residual doubts, and a sultry smirk appeared on Buffy’s lips. “I don’t know where this will lead us,” she said, leaning forwards to whisper in his ear. “But I bet we’ll have fun finding out.”

A low growl rumbled from the vampire’s throat, and in an instant, he brutally smashed his lips against hers. Ceaselessly, Spike’s hips moved in ever widening circles as he ground his aching erection against her heated centre, revelling as Buffy moaned wantonly into his mouth. “Too bloody right we will, kitten,” he said, nipping at the tender skin of her neck. “I won’t let you regret this, Buffy. Gonna show you how a real man treats his woman.”

“Yes!” The Slayer threw her head back and released a husky moan. “Spike, please.”

An anticipatory tremor wracked her tiny frame mere moments before Spike’s hungry mouth covered hers in an unyielding kiss that left no doubt of his intentions. This was the closest to heaven that Spike would ever reach, and he feasted upon her succulent lips like a man starved.

Buffy groaned as Spike’s hands trailed confidently over her body, and she arched into his talented hands as his actions caused a fire to ignite at her burning core. In response to the Slayer’s eager reactions, Spike banded his arms around Buffy’s waist, and felt her tremble as he hauled her roughly towards him. Closer, higher, he pressed the length of his body against hers and chuckled richly as Buffy squirmed beneath him whilst clutching his duster as if she feared the world would dare to steal him away.

With great effort, Spike pulled back to admire the sight before him. A self-satisfied smirk curled his lips as he marvelled at Buffy’s breathless whimper of complaint. Languidly, his eyes swept over her lithe body and lingered at the tempting swell of her breasts.

“So beautiful,” he whispered. Cautiously, Spike slipped his hand under the hem of her top, gently brushing his fingertips against the sensitive skin of Buffy’s stomach. “You’re so hot, kitten... Gonna burn me to ashes, you will.”

In the obscure recesses of her mind, Buffy wondered how it was possible that Spike’s cool touch could set her skin aflame. However, this thought was quickly drowned out when he embarked on a detailed mapping of her body. With single-minded dedication, Spike set about discovering and exploring the places that made her moan and shudder, cataloguing her responses for future reference.

“You taste so sweet,” he murmured against her lips. “My Slayer... My Buffy... Mine.”

Impatient for more of the incredible sensations her vampire invoked, Buffy’s hands sought contact with Spike’s cool skin. Hurriedly, she yanked his black t-shirt upwards and raked her fingers down his muscled back. The sensual growl that spilt from his kiss ravaged lips caused shivers to race down Buffy’s spine. Unwaveringly she locked her gaze with his and slid her hands into Spike’s jeans to grasp his firm ass. Her fingernails dug into the fleshy globes as Buffy lifted her hips to grind against him, desperately seeking the necessary friction to soothe the fire within her burning body.

The exquisite combination of pleasure-laced pain caused Spike to wrench away from her mouth and let out a frustrated moan. Thrusting rhythmically against her, the vampire buried his face against the column of her neck, inhaling her intoxicating aroma. A possessive growl rumbled against her skin, and Buffy tightened her legs around his waist in reaction to his demon’s primal response.

“Fuck, pet!” Spike’s hands descended to her hips as he guided her movements. “Squeeze me tighter, kitten... Yeah that’s it. Can you feel how hard you make me? How much I want to bury myself inside your hot little body?”

Spike was adrift in a sea of sensation. The heady scent of Buffy’s arousal flooded his nostrils, and he was inundated by her breathy whimpers and moans. The air between them sizzled with barely restrained tension, and Spike groaned in relief when a soothing breeze whipped through the park, cooling Buffy’s fiery touch where it branded his pale flesh.

Lowering his head, he peppered Buffy’s exposed neck and collarbone with a series of wet, open-mouthed kisses. With determination, Spike nuzzled at her shirt until he was free to worship the exposed swell of her breasts, whilst simultaneously, his left hand cupped a lace covered mound. Pinching firmly, he rolled his thumb over Buffy’s encased nipple and rejoiced as the rosy bud puckered beneath his touch.

A bothersome voice resounded in Buffy’s head, insisting that this was quickly escalating out of control. Nevertheless, as Spike ran his tongue along the outer shell of her ear and nibbled at the lobe, Buffy realised that it would take nothing short of an act of God to pry him from her arms. No sooner had the thought entered her mind, did the intermittent raindrops that splashed around her begin to fall like hot, stinging tears. Within seconds, the drops transformed into a gushing torrent—a vertical wall of rain—and Buffy’s startled shriek was effectively drowned out by the enraged cursing of the painfully aroused vampire.

“Buggerin’ hell.” Spike’s irritated roar was barely audible over the thunderous deluge. “Somebody’s takin’ the bloody piss.” Growling, his eyes turned heavenwards as he continued his frustrated rant. “I suppose you wankers think this is funny, don’t you?”

Buffy gasped for breath as the water saturated the air around her. Strands of hair plastered themselves to her forehead, and she could barely see with the way the rain fell into her eyes. Given her previous thought, Buffy fully expected an ark to come floating by at any moment. Old Noah had better be prepared for some serious ass whooping, she thought, suddenly aware that Spike’s weight was no longer upon her.

Unexpectedly, she felt herself hauled up from her reclined position as Spike grabbed her hand and swiftly led her towards the refuge of a nearby climbing frame. Buffy’s water-drenched clothes clung to her body, weighing her down, and even with her enhanced Slayer senses, she struggled to get her bearings in a distorted world where nothing seemed familiar.

“Come on, love,” Spike said. “Get that gorgeous arse of yours under here before ‘m forced to give you mouth-to-mouth.”

Standing beneath the relative shelter of the wooden framework, Buffy laughed in delight as Spike wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled against her neck, revelling in his newfound freedom to do so.

“You’re a vampire, remember?” she said, gasping as Spike bit down lightly with his blunt teeth. “CPR might be an issue, what with the no-breath having.”

Slowly, Spike licked the column of her neck, causing Buffy to moan in pleasure. “Right you are then,” he replied. “S’pose I could just kiss you all normal like, instead, yeah? Bet that’d still get your ticker up an’ runnin’.”

A carefree giggle tumbled from between her lips. “You’re such an ass,” she said, smiling at his light-hearted manner. Casually, Buffy wrapped her arms around Spike’s neck and held his mouth against her fluttering pulse point. She tangled her fingers in the mass of slicked back curls and sighed at the resultant groan that spilt from his lips.

“Be that as it may, kitten,” Spike murmured, “but I’m an ass who loves you.” He chuckled against her skin and his deep baritone sent tremors coursing down Buffy’s spine. Leisurely, Spike’s hands slid over her hips and pulled her flush against the hard length of his body. “Quite fond of your own luscious arse too, as it so happens.”

Relishing Buffy’s pleasured hiss, Spike lavished attention on the tender skin of her throat, paying particular attention to her faded bite marks. The mere thought of another vampire’s fangs sinking into his girl’s neck made his demon howl, and he anticipated the day when he would erase the abhorrent marks from Buffy’s body and claim her as his own.

“Tell me this is real,” Spike whispered, overcome by the need to voice his concerns. “Please, love, tell me I’m not dreamin’.”

Buffy’s fingers tightened in his mussed hair and she reluctantly drew him away from her neck. Gazing into his anxious eyes, she placed her palms on either side of his face.

“This is real, Spike,” she said softly. “So real it terrifies me.”

Spike brushed a lock of damp hair back from her forehead before carefully weaving his fingers through Buffy’s long tresses. His left hand traced the contours of her face, ghosting his palm against the apple of her cheek. Slow, tormenting digits traced the length of her throat and sent a wave of liquid fire rushing throughout Buffy’s veins. Instinctively, she bit her bottom lip to prevent her cry of longing from its imminent escape.

Wet from the rain, Buffy’s body arched towards Spike’s reverent touch, and the relentless pounding of her heartbeat brought a soft moan to his lips. Each torn gasp and heady whimper frayed another fibre of the vampire’s limited self-control, and Spike knew that he was dangerously close to taking her, right here, right now on the ground beneath the climbing frame.

Despite his fierce desire for the slayer writhing in his arms, Spike promised to do right by her, and a quick shag in the dirt wasn’t what he had in mind. He knew he had to stop this now, while he still could. Groaning, Buffy pressed her body against his throbbing erection, momentarily blinding Spike’s thoughts from his honourable intentions. An uncontrolled torrent of lust rushed over him, and it was only when Buffy shivered violently in his arms that the vampire came to his senses.

“You’re cold, love,” he said, shrugging off his duster. The thick leather had protected Spike from the worst of the sudden downpour; however, Buffy’s short jacket had offered no such luxuries. Her pants were soaked through and chilled her skin; she trembled again, and Spike’s eyes were drawn to where her nipples rubbed against her clinging shirt in heavenly torture.

“Here, put this on,” Spike wrapped his coat around her petite frame, and smiling, he eased Buffy’s arms into the oversized sleeves before standing back to admire the view. “Reckon it looks better on you anyway,” he said. “Come full circle, it has.”

She huddled into the coat, glancing down with a small smile on her lips. “Thanks, Spike.”

The deluge of rain had disappeared as quickly as it arrived, and Spike had his suspicions that the Powers were just messing with him. Pissing on his parade, figuratively if not literally. Still, the last time he checked, vampires didn’t melt in the shower, and it would take a damn sight more than a spot of water to keep him from the woman he loved. Stepping forward, Spike ran his fingers through Buffy’s hair and dropped an affectionate kiss across her forehead.

“Right then, pet,” he said with a sinful smirk on his lips. “What do you say we get you outta these clothes, yeah?”

Buffy blushed at his matter-of-fact tone and proceeded to stammer in a way reminiscent of Tara on the night Anya described the finer points of sexual etiquette.

“What, here? We can’t... I mean—huh?” The colour in Buffy’s cheeks deepened as she strove to remind herself of the reasons why she shouldn’t just give in to her shameless urges.

“Eloquently put, sweetheart,” Spike let loose a wry chuckle as his eyes travelled lazily over her body. “You’re soaked through,” he said, indicating her sodden outfit. “Need to get you outta them wet clothes and into somethin’ dry, yeah?” Releasing her damp locks, Spike took Buffy’s hands in his and entwined their fingers in a calming gesture. Golden skin contrasted with pale flesh; complete opposites and yet strangely similar where it mattered. “Let me walk you home.” Upon her fretful gaze, Spike rushed to reassure the anxious slayer. “It’s late, love. The Wicca’s will be asleep so you don’t have to worry ‘bout them. I’d rather take you back to my place but—”

“Not so much with the warm clothes having?” she asked, smiling coyly.

Chuckling, Spike mulled over Buffy’s unabashed butchering of the English language and shook his head in disbelief. With an affectionate grin, he squeezed her hand. “Come on, princess,” he said, dutifully leading her towards home. “Your castle awaits.”



The streets were deserted. With hands clasped tightly and the barely discernable space between them sending shivers racing down the vampire’s spine, they walked in companionable silence towards their reluctant destination. Buffy appeared to be lost in her thoughts, and Spike’s mind was replaying an endless montage of images from the remarkable night. Unhurriedly, they strolled towards Revello Drive, neither wanting the journey to end any sooner than necessary.

Casting Buffy a sideways glance, Spike wondered if his nervousness was akin to what humans must feel after a first date. In all his wildest fantasies, Spike had never considered the possibility of escorting her home. Walking hand in hand like any other ordinary couple in an otherwise extraordinary world. Such normality was a completely foreign concept to the vampire. His poetic ponce of a former self had never gotten near enough a woman to experience this, and he was overwhelmed by the dreamlike quality of the moment.

“Hey, Spike,” Buffy asked, breaking their calm familiarity. “As much as I’m enjoying the fresh air and impending threat of drowning—whatever happened to that death-trap you called a car?”

Her unexpected question roused Spike from a particularly pleasant Buffy induced flashback, and it took him a moment to process her words. When clarity returned, a low growl emanated from the vampire’s chest and he shrugged his shoulders in false indifference.

“Long story, pet. Short version bein’ that bloody Sy’rath’s cheat at cards. There’s no bloody honour amongst demons anymore,” he murmured, kicking petulantly at a discarded beer can. “I don’ know what this bleedin’ world’s comin’ to.”

Buffy was unable to contain her giggles at the sight of Spike’s little tantrum, and squeezed his hand in response. “Oh, please,” she giggled, “like you’ve never cheated at that dumb game.”

“Hey, now. I don’t cheat,” Spike replied with a playful scowl. “Nothin’ wrong with havin’ a strategic advantage, pet. And besides, is it my fault that half those blokes can’t tell their arse from their soddin’ elbow? A vamp’s gotta earn his beer money someplace.” Spike’s eyes held a mischievous gleam and Buffy watched as his lips twitched into an excited smile. “And besides, forget the Desoto, I’ve got a new ride.”

“You have?”

“Sure do, kitten. Stole it off one of them biker buggers the night you—” Spike’s sentence trailed off as he reconsidered his words. Swallowing hard he continued softly, “I stashed it near my crypt. You ever wanna get away from this pissant town for a bit, just let me know, yeah?”

“Sounds nice,” Buffy replied, her tone hollow and tainted with sadness. “I may take you up on that someday.”

“Any time, love. Just give me the word.”

Spike detested the lost quality that had returned to the Slayer’s voice, and once again, he wished he could protect her from the numerous troubles of her world. Frowning, his eyes narrowed as Buffy began to shut down, retreating into her shell until she resembled the meek girl from several hours earlier. Glancing around, Spike realised the cause of her discomfort as 1630 Revello Drive came into view. Thankfully, the windows were shrouded in darkness and he detected no movement from inside the property. It was apparent that the occupants were asleep, and a concentrated stretch of his vampire senses revealed the steady thrum of two feminine heartbeats.

Looks like Glinda’s showin’ Red the cold shoulder, Spike thought, noticing the absence of the white witch’s scent as they crossed Buffy’s front lawn. Not that he blamed Tara in the least. Despite her role in Buffy’s homecoming, Spike had a begrudging respect for the timid young woman. And considering Red’s inflated ego of late, he wouldn’t be at all surprised if Willow had manipulated her girlfriend into performing the bloody resurrection spell in the first place.

Much sooner than he’d have preferred, Spike found himself standing on the Summers’ front porch. His grip on Buffy’s hand tightened as he felt the tension roll off her trembling body in waves. Urgently, he prayed that this extraordinary night wouldn’t end here. The mere thought of being separated from his girl caused a hollow ache in his gut, and he’d be damned if he would stand by and let their hard earned progress go to waste.

“I don’t want to go in there,” Buffy whispered so quietly that Spike’s vampiric hearing barely picked it up. In an instant, he enfolded her in his protective embrace, repeatedly running his fingers through her hair in a soothing motion. “I want things to stay as they are. I want to be happy. I don’t want—”

“Hush, pet.” Spike breathed his words against Buffy’s ear. “How’s about you sneak in an’ find some fresh clothes? You don’t have to stay here. Crash at my crypt if you want, yeah? I’m not holdin’ you to anything. Hell, I’ll even take the floor if you want.”

An overpowering sense of shame crept over the vampire for suggesting his golden girl could sleep in a tomb, but it was obvious that her own home offered no solace. Squeezing firmly, Buffy’s arms tightened around Spike’s waist as she released a harsh bark of laughter against his chest.

“Yeah, ‘cause my friends would be so thrilled with that suggestion.” Absent-mindedly, her hands traced small circles against Spike’s lower back as she imagined the gang’s predictable reaction to that scenario. “That’ll have them rushing around with coffee and doughnuts to stage yet another intervention,” she said with bitterness in her voice.

“Sweetling, do me a favour, yeah?” Spike took a step back from her embrace, placing both hands on her quavering shoulders. “For once in your life, forget about what your bloody chums want. Forget about what you think you should want and just focus on what you want. You.” His eyes bore into hers, noting the trepidation penetrating through to her very soul. “What does Buffy want?”

Now that was a loaded question. A flicker of something passed over her eyes—an indecipherable emotion that left the vampire exhilarated and uneasy in equal measures.

In truth, Buffy had spent so long living up to other people’s expectations that she had forgotten how to live for herself. Over the years, she’d played many roles. She’d been the student and devoted daughter, not to mention Angel’s salvation and loyal saviour of her demon-magnet friends. So much time spent worrying about who she was supposed to be, had left Buffy adrift in a vortex of separate parts that no longer fitted together to make a whole. God, she was tired—tired of pretending and tired of being the strong one. Her life was a farce, and Buffy wanted nothing more than to lose herself in Spike’s arms and let him shield her from the world.

In lieu of her altruistic sacrifices, was it that unreasonable to want to feel safe, feel protected?

For a brief moment, she was tempted to take Spike up on his earlier offer—jump on the back of his stolen bike and ride off into the sunset. Nevertheless, Buffy knew her problems would inevitably catch up with her, and her deep-seated responsibilities wouldn’t allow it. Reluctantly she pulled away from Spike’s grasp and glanced towards the house. She watched as Spike’s shoulders slumped in resigned defeat, and reaching forward, she reclaimed his hand to squeeze it gently.

“I don’t have a choice, Spike,” she said, determined to be brave. “Dawn will panic if I’m not here in the morning. I have to go in.”

Spike’s narrowed eyes conveyed his feelings clearly, and Buffy brushed a lingering caress against his lips. Upon breaking the kiss, she sighed deeply, taking a step towards the door. Immediately Spike’s arms felt empty and he missed her warmth. His heart ached at the thought of letting her go, and it was only the realisation that Buffy was still clasping his hand that stopped him from begging her to stay.

“Spike, will you... I mean—” Her nervousness was endearing, and Spike couldn’t help the gentle smile that blossomed on his lips. “Will you stay with me?” she said. “Just for a little while.”

“You sure ‘bout that, love?” Spike asked, hoping his voice didn’t sound as eager as it had in his head.

“I’m not ready for this night to end,” Buffy replied, smiling in response to the openness displayed on his face. “But I, um... about the kissing... I know we got a bit carried away back there, but I don’t think I can... I’m not...” The colour in her cheeks deepened as Buffy became increasingly flustered. “It’s just that I have a history of rushing into these things,” she said, meeting Spike’s amused gaze, “and it tends to end badly for everyone involved.” Frowning, her eyebrows scrunched together as she rushed to amend her statement. “Not that I think you’ll try to end the world or kill my friends after we get groiny, but still...”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Spike said, with a teasing smirk. “I figure the whelp’s got it comin’. Whatcha say, pet? Could thin the herd a bit, yeah?”

His undead heart soared at the implication behind her babbled words, but Spike wasn’t about to bugger up his chances by pushing Buffy for sex. The mere knowledge that he could put that radiant smile on his goddess’s lips was enough to sustain him. The taste of her kisses was pure ambrosia, and Spike would willingly wait an eternity to worship at her altar.

A soft giggle tumbled from between Buffy’s lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Teasing fingers tangled in his liberated curls, and she stepped forward, pressing her body against his. Methodically, Buffy’s mouth brushed up the column of Spike’s neck as she dropped a lazy kiss against his siring mark.

“You wouldn’t really want to stick your fangs in Xander’s neck,” she said, sucking at the pale skin and causing Spike to groan in pleasure. “Not really.” Buffy’s eyes darkened as she slowly pulled back to rest her forehead against his. “And besides,” she continued, whispering against his lips, “I don’t feel like sharing.”

Spike’s earlier boast had planted a seed in Buffy’s mind, and the thought of Spike performing such an intimate act with anyone besides herself caused a surge of possessiveness to sweep through her.

“Fair point.” Spike’s voice raised several octaves and he released an unmanly squeak, shuddering, as Buffy’s warm breath tickled his face. Remembering his respectable intentions, he banded one arm around her waist and brought the other hand up to comb his fingers through her hair. “You’ve got nothin’ to worry ‘bout, love,” he said meeting her gaze, “I’m strictly a one woman vamp. An’ there’s no rush. ‘m not gonna pressure you or turn into a heartless prat if we don’t... I’d wait forever if I had to, Buffy. Christ, sweetheart, you’ve given me more tonight than I deserve.”

“That’s not true,” she replied, emphatic in her denial. “You’ve earned it.”

“Buffy—”

“I should have told you sooner,” she said, cutting him off. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have wasted so much time worrying about what the others would think. I wanted to say it, but I was afraid. Take it,” she said, cupping his cheek in her palm. “Take your crumb. Hell, Spike, you can take the whole damn cookie as far as I’m concerned.” Buffy’s thumb traced the strong line of Spike’s cheekbone and she reclaimed his hand with her own determined grip. Drawing him with her, Buffy took a step towards her front door. She knew the words were unnecessary—he already had his invite—but looking into his eyes she felt it crucial to say them aloud.

“Come in, Spike.”

Three simple words.

Hand in hand, vampire and slayer stepped over the threshold. Demonic nature and preconceived notions forgotten, banished to the past, as Buffy granted him entry to her home, her life and more importantly, her heart.



Chapter End Notes:
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