Warnings: Violence, language. Also, FYI: Spike in this story is NOT Season 2 Spike; he’s more of a blend of William and Spike than even I envisioned at first, so don’t expect him to be totally evil because you’ll be sorely disappointed.

Disclaimer: Spike, Buffy and any other BTVS/AtS characters depicted in this story are the property of Joss Whedon/Mutant Enemy. They’re not mine, I just enjoying playing with them for a bit. Promise to give them back afterwards. ;) Also, I used some dialogue from Prophecy Girl and When She Was Bad, some that are direct quotes and some that I twisted to fit my story, just so you know.

Part 1

Buffy inhaled deeply as she leaned on a wall a few buildings down from The Bronze, steeling herself to actually go inside and put on a show of everything being just hunky dory, for her friends. She chuckled humorlessly and toed the ground.

Yeah, right, everything was just peachy with a side of keen in Buffy’s world.

She’d been feeling… detached, disconnected, as if something wasn’t quite right inside her ever since that fatidic night in which she died, was brought back to life, and killed the Master in the space of just a few hours.

She almost wished she could’ve stayed with her father a little longer. At least with him she didn’t need to pretend; mostly because he wasn’t around long enough for her to actually have to pretend. Oh, he’d tried… at first, but after a few days it’d been easier for him to just drive her to the mall in the morning before going in to work or to a meeting, give her his credit card and tell her he’d come back to pick her up later. And really, there was nothing better to escape from the nightmare her life had become than retail therapy. Of course, that didn’t keep the dreams at bay, but she could deal with those. Somewhat.

Here in Sunnydale, however, she couldn’t run away. Her mother, her friends, her watcher, even Angel, reminded her of everything she wanted to forget. She hated having to put up a happy front for them—even though she had to admit her happy front had a lot of bitchiness blended in—to say everything was alright when it was anything but. Oh, they’d asked, but she didn’t think they really wanted to hear the truth. Or could handle it, for that matter. None of them could. Not even Angel.

Angel.

Once upon a time, she thought she was well on her way of falling in love with him. But that was before. Before he betrayed her and the trust she’d place in him, in the worst of ways. If it hadn’t been for Xander… she shuddered to think what might have happened.

She recalled thanking her friend for insisting they went to find her, for saving her, when Angel supposedly couldn’t. Couldn’t be bothered, was more like it. ‘Can't breathe’ her very firm behind! Simple mechanics demanded that in order to produce a voice, air must be forced through the vocal cords, which was something she learned from Willow. So, what was he ‘breathing’ if not air? Helium? That would account for him thinking he was above them with all his... his... poofiness! She giggled to herself at the thought of the brunet vampire tied to a string, being tugged along as she went from place to place. Shaking her head of the image, she sobered immediately as she remembered what Xander told her Angel had said when he asked the vampire to take him to the cave to look for her.

"Buffy, she's gone to fight the Master.”

“He'll kill her.”

“Rumor has it. Only we're not gonna let it happen.”

“Well, what do you propose we do about it?”

“Look, I know you can find this Master guy. He's underground, right? Take me to him.

“You're way outta your league, kid. The Master'll kill you before you can even breathe. If you're lucky.”

“How can I say this clearly? I don't like you. At the end of the day, I pretty much think you're a vampire. But Buffy's got this big old yen for you. She thinks you're a real person. And right now I need you to prove her right.”

She’d never questioned Xander's loyalty after that. He didn’t give up on her, did everything in his power to revive her, which was so much more than Angel even tried to do.

Had she really found the vampire attractive before? He was tall, dark and mysterious, all she should want, right? Only… she couldn’t stand even seeing him now, and that was especially true after his visit last night.

She’d faced the window as soon as she felt Angel leaning against the sill; looking at her while she slept. How did she never notice just how creepy that was before?

“Hello,” she said curtly.

“Mind if I come in?”

She shrugged and sighed. “Be my guest.” It wasn’t as if he would leave before he said whatever he’d come to say, so the sooner they got this over with, the better.

“How are you?” Angel asked her, taking a step closer toward the bed.

“Peachy. So, is this a social call?” She glanced towards the clock on her nightstand. “It’s kinda late. Or, well, it is for me, anyway. What is it for you, lunch hour?”

“It’s not a social call,” he replied somberly and she barely managed not to roll her eyes at him.

“Aah.” What a surprise… as in not! “So, let me guess. That means grave danger.” She rolled her eyes then, before adding sarcastically, “Gosh, it’s good to be home.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I had better news.”

“So, some of your cousins are in town for a family barbecue and we’re all on the menu!” she quipped.

“The Anointed One. He’s been gathering forces somewhere in town. I’m not sure why.”

She shrugged again. “Guess I’ll find out soon enough, huh?”

“You don’t sound too concerned.”

“I can handle myself. Besides, I could use a little action anyway.”

“Don’t underestimate the Anointed One just because he looks like a child. He has power over the rest of them. They’ll do anything for him.”

Had Angel always been this much of a condescending prick? God! She’d barely refrained from throwing his undead ass out through the window. She shook her head and sighed miserably. She really knew how to pick them. What did he think? That he could come into her room to warn her of the impending doom hanging over her head, tell her he’d missed her and she’d fall right into his arms? She scoffed. Yeah, right! Like that was going to happen.

Perhaps she wasn’t being fair, expecting that any of them understood what she was going through, but they weren’t fair by expecting her to be the happy, carefree girl she’d been before, either. She wished she could be that girl again. But she couldn’t, not after being forced to accept her mortality, that her days were numbered, that someday—be it today, tomorrow or one year from now—another vampire or demon would have its one good day and she would die again… this time for good.

The worst part was that she was at a point where she didn’t even care if she lived or died. In fact, she’d probably welcome death now, if only because then she wouldn’t have to paste a fake smile on her face and act as if all was right in her world.

“Penny for your thoughts,” a deep, rumbling voice said out of the blue and she jumped in surprise, before turning to look at its owner.

Whatever she’d expected to find, it wasn’t what she saw when her eyes focused on the platinum blond stranger to her right. He wasn’t too tall, not as tall as Angel at least, but that didn’t make him any less imposing. He exuded sex-appeal as he leaned one shoulder on the wall—dressed in all black t-shirt, jeans, leather duster and combat boots that had obviously seen better days—watching her intently as he lit a cigarette. He took a deep, long drag of it, his cheeks hollowing as he did, accentuating his handsome features.

“Cat ate your tongue, love?” he asked, tilting his head as he smirked at her lazily, the cigarette from his mouth now dangling between his fingers.

She raised her eyes to his and found it hard to breathe as his intense blue depths held her captive in their spell. Never mind that accent of his, which would very probably end up being her undoing, sending shivers down her spine with every word he said.

She shook her head, partly in response to his question, partly to clear it from the thoughts coming unbidden to her mind. “N-no,” she stuttered, swallowing hard past the lump in her throat.

“Ah, she talks,” he said teasingly, throwing the cigarette to the floor and stomping on it, before nearing her. His movements were slow and deliberate, as if he were approaching a wild animal that would just run off spooked if he made any sudden moves. Once he was close enough, he extended his hand to her as he introduced himself. “Name’s Spike, yours?”

She blinked, looking from the proffered limb to his face and back, almost as if she expected it to bite her. “I-I…”

“Do I have to guess?” He appeared deep in thought for a few seconds. “Hmmm, how about… Concetta,” he threw her a sideways glance and she shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “No, ‘f course not, you don’ look Italian. Perhaps… Hildegard?” He started sprouting name after name, each a little more outrageous than the previous until she was doubled in half, laughing for the first time in a long time.

“No, please, stop. I’ll tell you,” she said between giggles, holding her stomach as she tried to breathe.

“You sure? `Cause I still have a few more we can try.”

“Oh God, no, please,” she begged, hurrying to add, “It’s Buffy.”

“Buffy?” He tilted his head as he studied her, a slight frown marring his forehead even as his blue eyes twinkled with mischief. “Sure ‘bout that, pet? You don’ seem like a Buffy.”

“Quite sure.” She smiled at him, her own eyes shining with mirth. “And really, you don’t have much room to talk, Spike.”

“Touché, guess you got a point there, love,” he conceded with an impish grin. “So, what’re you doin’ out here? Waitin’ for someone?”

She scrunched her nose, her smile vanishing from her face. “No, not really.”

“Don’ have to tell me if you don’ want. `S jus’ that some things are easier to tell to a stranger.”

He could be right about that. She already felt more at ease with him than she’d felt with anyone else lately. “I just… there’s some people inside I don’t really want to deal with at the moment.”

“Aah, hidin’ from an old boyfriend, perhaps?”

Buffy frowned, looking down at her shoes as she thought about that. He got the old part right, but could Angel even qualify as a boyfriend? They had kissed a couple of times… but aside from that, what had they really shared? It wasn’t as if he’d ever asked her out or knocked on her window just to see her. Oh no, of course not. That would be too easy. And truly, after what happened with the Master and the whole prophecy fiasco, she barely could stomach being in the same room with him.

“Hardly,” she scoffed. “And hey, who said I was hiding?”

“No one, `m just perceptive like that, I suppose,” he smirked.

“Yeah, right.” She rolled her eyes playfully at him. “Well, just so you know, your perception is so far off base it’s on another continent.”

“So, what is it, then?”

“It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated?” he raised a scarred eyebrow, compelling her to elaborate.

“Yeah, more than you could believe.”

“Perhaps I could… believe it, I mean, if you told me.”

“You wouldn’t want to know.” Not to mention, she really, really didn’t want to tell him.

“Wouldn’ I now?” he asked. “An’ jus’ how are you so sure `f that?”

“I just am.”

“Could surprise you.”

He already had, in more ways than the obvious. Not that she was going to tell him that, either. “I can’t tell you. I don’t even know you.”

“I don’ see how that matters,” he shrugged.

“What about you?” she asked, in an effort to change the subject away from her. Not that she’d really told him anything, but there was only so much running in circles that she could do at a time.

“Me?”

He appeared confused by her question, so she rushed to clarify, “Yeah, are you waiting for someone?”

“Not really, no; jus’ got into town actually.” A smirk formed on his lips, one that could only be described as predatory and that shouldn’t have affected her as much as it did. “Perhaps I could convince you to show me ‘round? Give me the grand tour an’ all?”

She really shouldn’t be considering this. However, the idea of going inside the club on her own was even less appealing now than it was before. Having to deal with her friends and possibly Angel was definitely not on her list of top things she wanted to do. She gave the blond man the onceover. He was very handsome, seemed nice enough and had made her forget her problems for a little bit.

Plus, making Angel jealous, regardless of her not really wanting to be with him any longer? It was too good of an opportunity to waste.

“Say I accepted to do that… would you do something for me, too?” she inquired.

“`f course, pet. Anythin’ you want.”

“I just thought…” she sighed dejectedly. “You know what? Forget it. It’s a dumb idea anyway.”

“`m sure it isn’ dumb. Now tell me,” he gave her a winsome grin. “Go on, promise I don’ bite, least not `til you ask me nicely.”

“When we’re inside… would you pretend you’re… kindofmyboyfriend?” she rushed the last words out in a breathy whisper; her heart hammering inside her chest as she waited for his answer.

He blinked. “Your… boyfriend?”

“Yeah, but… you can say no if you want. I mean, I don’t want you to feel forced to do thi—” He pressed a long, cold finger to her lips prevented her from continuing with her ramblings.

“One thing you’ll soon learn `bout me, love, `s that I never do anythin’ I don’ want to do. Alright?” She could only nod in response, her lips still tingling from his touch, before he continued, “So, jus’ so we’re clear… this li’l arrangement is to make that non-boyfriend of yours you’re not hidin’ from jealous, `s that it?”

Damn him! He really wasn’t joking when he said he was perceptive. “Well… what would you say if it was?” She worried her bottom lip with her teeth as she waited for his answer.

The blond man offered her a lopsided grin, his azure eyes shimmering in such a way that they made her forget she needed to breathe. “I’d say… what are we waitin’ for then, love? Let’s go make ‘em all jealous.”

He offered his hand to her and Buffy briefly wondered if perhaps she was jumping from the frying pan directly into the fire before deciding she didn’t care if she was and taking it, allowing him to lead her towards the Bronze.

A smile formed on her lips as they walked side by side. She already felt different, lighter and a whole lot less gloomier than she’d been in the last few months, and it was because of this man. He made her laugh, made her forget about her problems and he was going to help her make Angel see that she’d truly moved on. There was no bad in that. None at all.

tbc

Disclaimer²: Some of the dialogue in this chapter was directly taken from the episode “When She Was Bad”. It’s not mine, it’s property of Joss Whedon, ME and its writers.

Warning: Rated 18, mostly for violence. It's not all that bad (at least I don't think it is) but you're warned. ;)

Part 2

He was a glutton for punishment, that’s all there was to it. He’d seen the girl looking sad and dejected and both his inner Victorian gentleman and his demon had demanded that he make it better, to hell with who she was.

Oh, he’d known she was the Slayer from the get go. After all, what self-respecting master vampire wouldn’t? Didn’t stop him from approaching the girl and talking to her until he got a smile out of her, though, did it? And what a smile that was! She’d lit up the room, er, street with it. The tinkling sound of her laughter was music to his ears and the sensation of her tiny hand in his made him feel things he had no business feeling. And the worst part? He didn’t bloody care. Not tonight, at least.

As soon as they entered the club, he immediately noticed that it was filled with lots of teeny boppers, and if he wasn’t mistaken, a few vampires were milling about here and there as well.

He smirked when he recognized one vampire in particular. One he hadn’t seen in a long, very long, time. Angelus, or rather Angel, the soulful brooding wonder, spotted him almost instantly and was coming to meet him now, his dark eyes screaming bloody murder, which only made Spike’s smirk widen.

He hadn’t wanted the Slayer to discover he was a vampire in quite this way, but he wasn’t about to let the poof scare him off, either.

“What the hell are you doing here?” the brunet vampire growled, his eyes flashing amber.

Spike was about to respond, but the girl by his side beat him to it, taking him completely by surprise when she released his hand and stepped forward, standing between him and the dark haired vampire. “I have as much right to be here as you do, Angel. More even, since this is actually a club open to teenagers and if I’m not mistaken, you’re long past that age.”

Oh, fuck him sideways! Now this, he hadn’t expected. Good ol’ Angelus was the Slayer’s non-boyfriend? Priceless! It was even better than he could have imagined… if he lived long enough to go through with the Slayer’s plan to make the poof jealous, that is.

Taking advantage that neither of them were paying attention to him at the moment, he moved slightly to the right, both to have a better look of the proceedings and to be at the ready in case Buffy needed him to intervene. Not that he thought she would need him to, even a blind man would notice the aura of strength and power that surrounded the petit blonde.

“I didn’t mean—” Angel started, his eyes pleading with her, giving her the kicked puppy look he’d perfected so many years ago and that used to drive him absolutely bonkers because of the effect it had on his Dru. It didn’t seem to work on the Slayer, though, or not anymore at least, because she leveled him with an icy glare that had Spike chuckling inwardly and made Angel effectively shut his gob up.

And bloody hell, if he wasn’t impressed by her standing up to the ponce like this!

“Yeah, that’s the problem, isn’t it? You never mean to do anything or say anything or… you know what? I don’t care anymore.” She waved Angel off, turning toward him with the sweetest smile and a fire in her eyes that just blew the blond vampire away. “Come on, baby, you promised me a dance.”

Spike barely had time to nod before the brooding pillock—who apparently didn’t hear the finality in her voice when she spoke to him before—grabbed the Slayer by the arm and hauled her forcefully to face him again. “Buffy, you have to listen to…”

Her green eyes flared with anger as she wrenched her arm free from the git’s grip. Christ, if she wasn’t a vision when she was furious!

“I don’t have to do anything. And really, could you contemplate getting over yourself for a second and listen to me for once?” she asked. “There’s no ‘us’, there’s you and there’s me, but not together, capisce?” She sighed, shaking her head. “Look, Angel, I’m sorry if I was supposed to spend the summer mooning over you, but… I didn’t. I’ve moved on… to him,” she said with a little smile in Spike’s direction, extending her hand to link with Spike’s. “He’s my boyfriend, not you. Now, excuse us, because we have better things to do than talk to you. ”

The platinum blond couldn’t resist throwing Angel a triumphant grin over his shoulder as Buffy all but dragged him to the dance floor. He almost felt sorry for the poor sod. Almost. Until their eyes met and he realized if looks were stakes he’d be dust by now with the ones Grandpop kept throwing him.

In his opinion, this was poetic justice for all the times the dark haired vampire fucked his ripe wicked plum without any regard for his feelings. A little jealousy never hurt anyone, anyway. Hadn’t the git told him just that more times than he could remember? Perhaps he should try to see how much more jealous he could make him? After all, the girl had asked for his help. It was the least he could do.

He almost wished Angel were stupid enough to actually try something else, because he’d pay good money to see this blonde goddess in action. Her eyes gleaming like iridescent emeralds, her body tense and coiled, ready to attack at the merest hint of danger.

Fuck, he’d gladly fight her himself if it didn’t mean giving away his undead status.

Spike was sure she didn’t know what he was… yet. If she did, there was no bloody way she would have wrapped her arms around his neck as soon as they reached the dance floor. Or press her lithe, little body closer to his as they swayed to the sultry music being played on stage.

His hands fell to her waist, turning her around so her back was against his front. He savored the seductive, sensual way in which her hips moved against his. Felt his cock harden and swell, straining against his tight jeans when one of her hands climbed up to curve around the nape of his neck. Nearly forgot where he was and why, when her luscious ass ground into his hardness.

He could easily lose himself in her, so bleeding easily.

Spike twisted her around in his arms again as he fought for control. As he fought to remind himself of the reason they were doing this. As he fought to remember that the girl wasn’t his.

The blond vampire raised his eyes and saw Angel on the other side of the floor, watching them intently as they danced; his fury palpable even from a distance, crackling the air with its intensity and he smirked in response. Served him bloody right, too, for whatever he did to the heavenly creature in his arms.

His curiosity tempered his lust for the moment and he lowered his lips to her ear to whisper, “So, tell me, love, is that the pillock you’re hidin’ from?”

She moved her head a bit back to be able to see him, frowning. “I’m not sure what a pillock is, but if it’s something insulting he probably is just that. And nope, I told you already, I’m not hiding from anybody, least of all him,” she practically spat the last word.

“If you say so, pet. Jus’ thought, what with the way he’s lookin’ at us right now, you might have some sort `f history together.”

“He’s looking at us?” she asked and he nodded.

“Uh-huh, and if looks killed, I’d probably be six feet under at the mo’.”

The Slayer chewed on her bottom lip and he bit back a groan, wishing it were him doing that for her. She stared at him for a second, before sighing deeply. “Okay, yeah, Angel and I had some sort of… er, understanding before I went away for the summer, and well, now he…” she paused, her nose scrunched adorably as she struggled to find the right words, so he decided to help her out.

“He doesn’ get that you’re over him an’ that’s why you asked for my help, that it?”

She shrugged. “Yes, pretty much.”

“Well,” he lowered his head to hers, brushing her lips with his once, reveling in her sharp intake of breath and the way her tiny hands tightened around his neck. “What say you we make him really jealous then, pet?” he inquired.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

Buffy could only nod in answer to his question, not really sure of what he’d asked. She’d stopped listening after his lips touched hers, at any rate. It was the briefest of kisses, so soft and chaste she wasn’t certain it could even qualify as one, and yet it left her longing for more in ways Angel’s never did.

Her eyes drifted shut as he leaned in to kiss her again, the tip of his tongue sliding across the seam of her lips and slipping inside when she moaned softly. His hands roamed downwards until they reached the curve of her ass, splaying his fingers over her hips to press her closer to his body, making her gasp into his mouth when once again she felt the evidence of his desire against her abdomen. Her hands traveled up to his shoulders, hanging on tight to him as she fought to keep upright on slightly shaky knees.

He tasted of cigarettes, liquor and something slightly coppery, all blending enticingly in an intoxicating flavor that left her slightly dizzy and craving for more; bulldozing over any previous beliefs she’d had over any or all of those before tonight.

It took her completely by surprise that this… man, this stranger, could make her feel things she hadn’t felt in months. Could make her feel alive in ways she didn’t anticipate when she met him outside The Bronze. Could make everything that had been hurting deep inside disappear as she lost herself in his soft lips, in him, in the way he looked at her, kissed her, in her body’s response to his touch.

The blonde girl nearly sobbed her objection when she felt someone gripped her arm, ripping her away from Spike’s lips, but instead of crying, this only served to fuel her rage.

She didn’t give much thought to who her aggressor might be, nor did she care. She was seething, completely fed up that anyone dared to interrupt her so rudely. Grabbing the offending limb, she twisted it in on itself, until she was free from its hold and then bent it around her attacker’s back, applying just enough strength to make him drop to the floor as he howled in pain.

She didn’t let go of the dark haired vampire, though—especially not after discovering it was him—lowering herself to whisper threateningly in his ear, “If you ever try that again, I swear you won’t live to see another night.”

“Y-you don’t understand, Buff—”

“No, it seems it’s you who doesn’t understand. Leave. Me. Alone,” she gritted through clenched teeth. “I don’t need your cryptic warnings; I don’t need you stalking me and I certainly don’t need you to interrupt when my boyfriend is kissing me. Actually, I don’t need anything from you.”

“He isn’t who…”

“Spike is…” she began, tugging harder on Angel’s arm before raising her eyes up to the other man, who was looking at them with something akin to reverent awe mixed with amusement. He seemed ready to jump right into the action, too, if she needed him and wasn’t that a nice change? “…my boyfriend and you don’t get to mess with him or with me or you’ll regret it. Alright?”

The brunet vampire tried to pull himself free from her grip, growling menacingly at Spike and she shook her head, applying yet more pressure on his limb until he whimpered pitifully. Was he always this difficult? she wondered to herself. “Ugh, you’re really pushing your luck, buddy. We’re attracting enough attention as it is. Isn’t having your ass kicked by a little girl in front of all these people enough humiliation for one night?” she asked, sighing as she tried to hold on to what little was left of her patience. “Why can’t you just let it go?”

“I… can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t? Because really, Angel, I’m done with this, I’m done with you. If you have any inside info to share, well, go to Giles. We both know you’re good at going to him behind my back anyway.”

“That was just—”

“I don’t care what it was,” she said sharply, interrupting him again. “I just don’t want you to cross my path again, unless it’s absolutely necessary. Now, I’m going to let go of you, but if you try anything, I swear to God, Angel… you won’t know what hit you.”

Buffy waited a beat for him to nod his agreement to her terms before releasing him as if burnt, leaving him crumpled and alone on the dance floor. She blushed slightly when she noticed that some of the dancing couples that were close by had their eyes glued to them in morbid fascination.

Oh well, much as she hated being the center of the attention, she hated being patronized even more. And really? Angel had it coming. Who did he think he was anyway?

She quickly forgot all about Angel and anybody else when Spike suddenly appeared right in front of her, his indigo gaze piercing and intense as it held her in its spell. Admiration, respect, wonder and just a hint of devious delight were clearly etched in his features as his hands cupped her cheeks. His face slowly descending toward hers, hopefully to pick up right where they’d left off before the interruption.

It just wasn’t meant to be.

His lips were but a hairsbreadth from hers when she caught something in the periphery of her vision. Something that made her internally groan and ask the heavens if she would ever catch a break. Judging by the disappointed looks her friends were throwing her when she finally looked their way, she truly doubted it.

Oh joy, this was just what she needed to make her night complete… another confrontation.

tbc

Disclaimer²: Some of the dialogue in this chapter was directly taken (and somewhat twisted) from the episodes “When She Was Bad” and "Intervention". It’s not mine, it’s property of Joss Whedon, ME and its writers.

Part 3

His lips were but a hairsbreadth from hers when she caught something in the periphery of her vision. Something that made her internally groan and ask the heavens if she would ever catch a break. Judging by the disappointed looks her friends were throwing her when she finally looked their way, she truly doubted it.

Oh joy, this was just what she needed to make her night complete… another confrontation.

Buffy rolled her eyes and shrugged apologetically at Spike before taking a couple of steps back—feeling bereft when his hands fell from her face. Heaving a long, pained sigh, she turned towards her friends.

They had seemed disillusioned before, but now they were making her feel downright uncomfortable. She really could do without the condemning, colder than ice glares times two.

Ergh. What was their problem anyway? Whoever noticed might think she’d killed their puppy or something. Or that it was Angel who was their friend and not her.

“Hey guys! What a surprise to find you two here,” she said with a saccharine sweet smile and a tone that dripped venom. If the way Willow and Xander kept staring at her as if she suddenly grown a second head was any indication, she might as well have told them she’d hoped not to see them tonight. Which was true, but sooooo not the point right now.

“What do you mean, Buffy? We said this morning that we’d meet you here.” Willow frowned, the blonde girl’s sarcasm flying right over her.

“Yeah? Must have slipped my mind then.” She waved the issue off.

“Buffy, we need to talk to you.” The redhead gave the brunet boy a glance that spoke volumes. Next thing she knew, they were each flanking her, both of them grabbing her by an arm as they began herding her towards their table and away from the platinum blond she wanted to stay with.

She dug in her heels and managed to bring them to a stop. “And what if I don’t need or want to talk with you?” The looks, the corralling, the sudden ‘need to talk’… this definitely had ‘intervention’ written all over it, which was so not happening if she could help it.

“Buffy, we care about you, and we’re worried about you. The way you’re acting tonight, the things you’re doing—” Xander stopped talking mid-sentence, throwing a few not-so-covert glares in Spike’s direction to make his point clear. Not that she could’ve missed his meaning even if he hadn’t, she sighed.

“Is wrong,” Willow piped in, before her forehead furrowed. “Wait. This shouldn’t be about blame,” she added almost to herself.

“Blame? There’s blame now?” Buffy tried to hold on to what little patience she still had. Ugh, this was so… typical. Blaming her for everything that went wrong in Sunnydale and its vicinities.

“No, of course not, Buffy,” the other girl replied in a decisively condescending tone that grated on her nerves. “There’s only love… and some fear.”

“A-ha, I see.”

“Do you, really? Because, then maybe you can explain to us… what was that about?” Willow nodded her head towards the vampire who had yet to stand up from the floor, the look in the redhead’s eyes when she posed them on him filled with concern and pity.

Buffy couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes in annoyance. Figures they’d be worried about him and not her.

“Yeah, Buff, you know I’d be the last one to defend dead boy there but that was a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Xander interjected, pulling at her arm again to put more distance between Spike and her in a move that only served to anger Buffy even more.

“No, Xan, actually I don’t think it was harsh at all. And if you don’t want to end up like him, I suggest you release me. Now,” she demanded, narrowing her eyes threateningly.

“Geez! What the hell is wrong with you?” He scowled, releasing her immediately.

“What do you mean what’s wrong with me?” she countered in a deceptively soft tone.

“Okay, that’s denial. That usually comes before anger,” Willow explained, wincing a little when Buffy sent her a murderous glare.

“No one is judging you, Buffy,” Xander said, trying to pacify the Slayer. “It’s understandable. This guy…” he looked at the other man, who’d remained a few meters away from them, but appeared to be following their conversation with interest, “…he seems strong, and mysterious, and sort of compact but well-muscled.”

The blonde girl raised an inquisitive eyebrow, addressing him in a mocking tone, “Well, well, it seems you’ve been busy staring at my boyfriend. Should I be concerned?”

Xander blushed to the roots of his hair and shook his head, obviously deciding to finally shut his mouth. And they said miracles didn’t happen.

“Y-your boyfriend?” Willow asked, her eyes almost bulging out of their sockets as she looked from Buffy to Spike and back. “But… what about Angel? Never mind that you’ve never told us about this other guy.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, Angel is history, and about Spike… well, it’s not like I have to tell you everything that happens to me, is it?” she replied nonchalantly, shrugging off her friends’ hurt expressions. “Perhaps if either or both of you had called or contacted me during the summer, I might have told you sooner about him. But seeing as neither of you cared enough to do that; well, I don’t see why I have to bother, do you?”

“You’ve changed,” the redhead said in a little voice, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “You’re not the same Buffy you were.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. Ugh, if they thought they were going to make her feel guilty for this on top of everything she’d gone through, they had another thing coming.

“Wow, really? And why do you think that might be?” Buffy asked sarcastically, not giving them the chance to respond before adding, “Oh, let me think about that for a sec, what could have changed Buffy, hmmm? How about the fact that I died and you brought me back to life? Or that I have to keep on living in the Hellmouth, putting my life on the line for people who have no idea or even care what it’s like to do this on a daily basis, while at the same time I have to pretend everything is just peachy, because that’s what some people expect of me.”

“Surely you don’t mean us, Buffy. We’re your friends,” Willow intervened, hurt dripping in her tone.

“Are you really?” She cocked her head to look at the two of them, crossing her hands defensively in front of her chest. “Because right now, I’m not feeling the love. Look, I’m sorry if I can’t be the same Buffy I was before, but I… too much has happened and things change. I have changed and I’m sick and tired of pretending otherwise.”

“But you don’t have to pretend with us, Buffy. I’m sorry if we made you feel like you had to; we-we didn’t mean to, I swear,” Willow said vehemently, nudging Xander with her elbow.

“We really had no idea you felt that way,” he agreed, looking down at his feet sheepishly. “It wasn’t on purpose. We just… didn’t know what to say or do.”

Buffy sighed, feeling as if a huge weight had been lifted from her chest just by coming clean to her friends like this. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose and that… well, it’s my fault, too, for not telling you how I was feeling. But I need you to understand this is not easy for me.”

“And we do, we promise.” The redhead smiled hopefully at her. “So, it’s all good? With us, I mean.”

Buffy smiled a little, shrugging her shoulders. “Sure, if you really want it to be.”

“Cool! So…” Willow started, leaning slightly forward and lowering her voice so no else but them heard their conversation. “…are you going to tell us about your boyfriend now?”

Buffy’s eyes scanned the club, searching and finally finding the man who inadvertently had given her the strength she needed to do this, to begin facing a few of the demons that had been haunting her since the night the Master killed her. They exchanged a grin and she nodded almost imperceptibly when he signaled with his head towards the back door of the Bronze.

“Uh, there’s not much to say. I met him in LA and now he’s here. And really, much as I’d love to stay and chat with you two, well… I gotta go now. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, alright?”

She barely acknowledged their responses with a nod, her attention and steps already drifting after the platinum blond man as he exited the club… only to have someone cut right in front of her when she was about to reach the back door.

Buffy rolled her eyes heavenward and sighed deeply when she saw who it was. This was getting old, really, really fast. Not to mention more than a bit ridiculous. Who else would she have to deal with tonight?

“Buffy.”

“Cordelia,” she deadpanned in the same tone the other girl had used with her.

“You’re really campaigning for Bitch of the Year, aren’t you?

“What if I am? As defending champion, are you nervous I might actually win?”

“I can hold my own.” The brunette girl’s gaze held hers. “You know, we’ve never really been close, which is nice, `cause I don’t really like you that much, but… on occasion, you have saved the world and stuff, so I’m gonna… do you a favor.”

Oh yay! Another person that wanted to meddle in her life! Would this ever end? As it was, the best favor Cordelia could ever do for her right now was to let her continue on her merry way, but since she didn’t see that happening, she simply replied, “And this great favor is?”

“I’m gonna give you some advice. Get. Over. It.”

Huh? “Excuse me?”

“Whatever is causing the Joan Collins ‘tude, deal with it. Embrace the pain, spank your inner moppet, whatever, but get over it,” she elaborated. “`Cause pretty soon you’re not even gonna have the loser friends you’ve got now.”

“I think it’s about time you started minding your own business… but if you really want to know, things with my friends, who by the way are definitely not losers, are better than ever, so save your… ‘friendly’ advice for someone who needs it, alright?”

“Whatever,” the brunette scoffed. “I guess I’ll just see if Angel feels like dancing then.”

Buffy chuckled at that, shaking her head in amusement. Was that supposed to mean something to her, ruffle her feathers and whatnot? “Be my guest, Cordy. Who knows? Now that I’ve told him there’s no shot of us ever being an item, he might just take you up on it to get over me.” She turned her back on the other girl, not even waiting for a reaction and kept on walking towards the door. “Oh, and thanks for the advice, by the way,” she said over her shoulder, before finally making it through the back door.

* ~ * ~ * ~ *

Spike’s feelings for the Slayer were moving way beyond being impressed by her looks and spunk into the realm of full-blown admiration for her strength of character, no two ways about it. And truly how could they not when every new thing he discovered about her, further intrigued and fascinated him?

She was a goddess, all golden and beautiful; bloody poetry in motion, too. Be it as she danced or when she’d lunged at the pompous pain in his ass and overpowered him with a single, very effective move.

It took everything in him not to laugh in his Grandsire’s face. It was obvious he hadn’t expected the girl to react quite like that. To be honest, neither had Spike.

He knew something very bad must have happened to make the chit respond like that. He had to give her props, though; even with as palpable as her anger had been, she kept a cool head. Not giving the poof the chance to excuse his actions or to complete any of his sentences which actually worked to his advantage… this time.

It wasn’t until he eavesdropped on her conversation with her friends, that he had an inkling of what it was that made her seem so… broken, so withdrawn when he’d met her earlier tonight. Bloody wankers, the lot of them! How could they not notice how much pain the girl was in, when it’d taken him only seconds?

She’d been minutes away from saying to hell with everything and embracing that death wish all Slayers had at some point when he found her. He’d sensed it, recognized it even and instead of pushing her further into that downward spiral, had come to her rescue. Why? He had no fucking clue.

Only that was a lie, wasn’t it? He’d been drawn to her from the moment he saw her, some perverted sense of gallantry taking over even as he knew this must be some twisted joke of the bleeding Powers That Be to get their kicks in somehow.

There was no other explanation for his attraction to the bloody Slayer of all chits, at least not for him.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he heard suddenly, the Slayer’s voice startling him out of his musings. Sneaky little thing, wasn’t she? He’d been so deep in thought he hadn’t heard or felt her until she was right in front of him in the dimly illuminated alley.

“Not sure they’re worth that much, love,” he answered with a wistful grin, refusing to acknowledge that what he was experiencing was relief of any kind that she’d, in fact, joined him.

“Well, if you told me what they were, I could tell you how much they are worth.”

“Wonderin’ what was keepin’ you in there, `s all,” he said, turning to face her.

“What?” She tilted her head, a little smile playing on her lips. “Don’t tell me you were worried I wasn’t going to keep my promise and give you the grand tour after all?”

“Jus’ thought your li’l mateys might convince you to stay with `em, is all.” Not exactly a lie, but not completely the truth, either.

“My little ‘mateys’, as you call them, seem to be more understanding than I gave them credit for.”

“That’s good then.” He extended his hand to her and was surprised when she not only took it without hesitation, but also allowed him to pull her into his arms.

“An’ that non-boyfriend `f yours didn’ bother you anymore?” He bent his knees slightly, so he could reach her neck better, nuzzling it with his nose, inhaling her scent—citrusy and fresh, merging enticingly with something that had to be inherently Buffy, something powerful, intoxicating, just as she was.

“After what you witnessed, I think it’s safe to say he got the message… loud and clear,” she giggled, tilting her head slightly to give him better access to her throat, her little hands tightening on the lapels of his duster.

Spike was more than a bit mystified by her behavior. He’d been half-expecting her to punch his nose or something, to put an end to his attentions, especially when his lips began traveling down the slender column to place small kisses against her soft skin. Not that he was about to complain, or stop, when she didn’t do any of that.

“Yeah, quite impressive that, by the way.” Not really, though, since he knew what or rather who she was, but he figured it was what she expected to hear. There was no way she was aware of what he was, no bloody way. She wouldn’t be here in his arms like this if she knew.

“Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?” she replied proudly. “I was… surprised you didn’t intervene, most men would’ve.”

He pulled away from her throat to gaze into her green depths. “Oh, don’ get me wrong, love. I would’ve intervened if you needed me to,” he said sincerely. “You did an amazin’ job all by yourself, though. Not to mention, `m man `nough not to feel threatened by a beautiful woman who’s able to wipe the floor with someone that’s double her size.” He winked at her, half-jokingly adding, “Jus’ remind me never to get on your bad side, yeah?”

“What, don’t tell me you’re scared of little ole me?” she asked with an amused grin, obviously tickled to pieces by the mere thought.

“After what I jus’ saw, I warrant li’l you can do a lot `f damage to a bloke like me.” And not jus’ the physical kind, either, he added to himself.

“That depends, I guess.” She shrugged, slowly dragging her hands up his duster to wrap them around his neck. “So far, you’re doing much better in the potential boyfriend department than Angel ever did.”

“You don’ say,” he smirked, his arms banding around her waist and hauling her closer, encouraged by her flirtatious behavior. “However did I manage that, hmm?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, inclining her head and looking playfully at him through lowered lashes. “Maybe because you didn’t go all fangy and grr on me when I offered you my neck?”

tbc

Previously on Bring Me To Life…

“You don’ say,” he smirked, his arms banding around her waist and hauling her closer, encouraged by her flirtatious behavior. “However did I manage that, hmm?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she inclined her head, looking playfully at him through lowered lashes. “Maybe because you didn’t go all fangy and grr on me when I offered you my neck?”

Part 4

Flabbergasted, Spike could only stare at the girl in his arms, completely speechless for the first time in his unlife. Bloody hell! She fucking knew? That he hadn’t expected and right now he couldn’t say what he was more shocked about… the fact the cheeky bint knew what he was or that she hadn’t dusted him on the spot. Or pulled away from his arms for that matter and instead, just looked back at him with a mixture of amusement and pride at having thrown him completely off.

“I-you…” His hands fell from her waist as he took a couple of steps back, his mouth opening and closing as he tried in vain to form any intelligible words.

Buffy had bitten the inside of her cheek not to giggle at the stunned expression on his face, but when he began doing his best impression of Willow’s fishies, she just couldn’t do anything to stop her bubbling laughter.

She could barely recall a time when she’d laughed quite like this, and it definitely hadn’t been in the last few months for sure. It was… liberating; as if she were stepping out of the shadows that had permeated her life since the night she died and came back to life. As if the fragmented shards of her soul were somehow melding back together, giving her the chance to feel more like the Buffy she’d been before, but not quite the same. One couldn’t live through something like that and come back unscathed. She was living proof of that. However, she was better now and it was because of Spike. Who cared if he was a vampire? It wasn’t like it would be a first for her, now was it?

By all rights, the blond vampire knew he should feel offended, or at the very least slightly miffed that she was having so much fun at his expense, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Not when her jade green eyes were shining with mirth, the shadows that had filled them and made them look haunted a little over an hour ago, having all but disappeared. Did it matter that she was laughing at him? No, he answered himself quickly, not at all.

Didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun himself, though.

He shook his head, chuckling. “You got me good there, Slayer,” he tilted his head to the side, a little smile playing on his lips, regarding her with interest.

“I did, didn’t I?” she beamed at him, wiping tears of joy from her beautiful green eyes. He noticed the moment she realized what he’d called her, the emerald depths widening and her grin turning into a confused frown.

“Y-you… know?” she asked, rolling her eyes at her own naïveté. But of course he knew; it was clearly etched in the mischievous gleam in his eyes and the playful smirk that teased those sinful lips of his. He wasn’t a mere fledging; he was a vampire in control of his demon. Much more so than Angel ever was of his. He exuded power and sex-appeal, and made her knees buckle with just one glance of those gorgeous baby blues of his. He was more than that, though. He seemed caring and compassionate; how else could she explain why he hadn’t attacked her on the street, or why he helped her even knowing she was the Slayer?

“I do. Had no bloody idea you knew what I was, though, pet.”

“I might not be all that vampire-savvy yet, but cold hands and lack of a heart beat scream man of the undead persuasion to me.” She scrunched her nose in a way he found utterly adorable. “Why didn’t you kill me?”

He blinked. Good question that, he mused. Why hadn’t he? He could’ve if he’d wanted to. Bag his third Slayer without that much of a problem. He hadn’t wanted to, though. The girl drew him in like a moth to the flame and he’d rather be burnt by her radiance, than try to off her. “Kill you? Why would I kill you?”

“Thought me being the Slayer would be enough reason for most vampires.”

“I think you’ll soon learn `m not like most vampires, love.”

She couldn’t stop the warm smile that came unbidden to her lips at his answer. “Yeah, I’m starting to see that.”

He took a step forward, his hand coming to rest softly on her cheek, his azure gaze piercing and intense as it captured hers. She shivered at his touch, at the emotions she could see swirling in his eyes, knowing they were mirrored in hers. Attraction, confusion, desire, longing, need… A deep abiding need to belong to someone, to be one with them. Not just in a physical sense, either. On a deeper emotional level, the likes of which she hadn’t experienced… yet.

“You didn’t answer me, though,” she said, nuzzling her nose in his palm; surprising herself by how much she enjoyed his touch. “Why didn’t you kill me? You know as I do, I probably wouldn’t have fought you… much.”

“Don’ rightly know,” he sighed, his thumb tracing her bottom lip, his pupils dilating until only a tiny sliver of the indigo irises could be seen when the tip of her tongue peeked out to taste his skin. “Or maybe I do… you make me feel things I have no business feelin’. Things I shouldn’ feel, but I just can’ not feel.” He took a deep breath and then asked, “Why didn’ you kill me, love?”

She was floored by his soft, honest admission and his question, her heart beating faster in her chest as she tried to put her thoughts into words. “I-I… wasn’t sure you were a vampire at first and then you didn’t seem, hmmm, inclined to kill me, so I figured perhaps you had a soul, like… you know, Angel?” she supplied, wincing a little at his growl and the way his eyes flashed amber. God, she shouldn’t find that hot, should she?

“`M nothin’ like that soddin’ git.”

“`Kay, so… I take it no soul, then?” she said, a small smile softening her features to show she wasn’t judging him.

“Bloody right, that. No soul.”

“But you know him, right? From before, I mean?”

He exhaled through his nose and nodded. “Yeah, me an’ the wanker go way back. He’s my grandsire.”

She blinked. “Your grandsire?”

“Means he made the woman who turned me into a vampire, love.”

Buffy felt a pang in her chest at the faraway look in his eyes when he mentioned this woman, wondering where she was, what she meant to Spike. “So, you’re kinda like family, then?”

“Sort of, yes.” He shrugged. “Hadn’ seen him in a while, though, an’ we didn’ exactly part in the best of terms.”

Suddenly the brunet vampire’s reaction inside the Bronze made a whole lot more sense to her. Didn’t mean he didn’t deserve to have his ass kicked anyway.

“So, you have no soul and Angel is your grand-whatever.”

He chuckled. “Right.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re evil, though.”

“Doesn’ mean `m not, either,” he smirked.

“Yeah, because an evil vampire can control himself from sinking his fangs into the oh so willing girl’s throat.” She rolled her eyes at him teasingly.

Spike took another step toward her, pressing her against the wall and reveling in her sharp intake of breath, despite knowing it had little to do with fear or maybe because it didn’t. He didn’t know anymore. Didn’t bloody care, either.

“Perhaps I was jus’ lullin’ you into a sense of false security,” he purred, licking the side of her neck and noticing for the first time the twin punctures that marred the otherwise flawless skin. He barely held in the proprietary growl that rasped his throat then, barely suppressed the urge to bury his fangs in her throat and erase any other marks that weren’t his. This was not the time for that, though, and that was the only thing that stopped him from demanding to know who dared hurt his Slayer. “What’s this?” he asked in a hushed whisper, his fingers shaking slightly as they touched the scarred tissue.

Buffy had closed her eyes, unable to control her body’s quivering response to having him so near her neck, to his velvety, enthralling tone, until he asked her about the one thing she’d done her best to block… and had actually managed to, at least for a little while. And just like that the fear, the helplessness she felt back then, came crashing upon her.

He sensed more than saw the change in her. The tension, the rising panic, the trepidation… and called himself all kinds of an idiotic fool for unwittingly being the cause of her pain.

His arms closed around her body when he felt her trying to put distance between them, to escape, and pulled her towards him, his hands caressing her back in soothing circles. Slowly, she stopped fighting him, leaning against him for comfort as her tears started to flow.

He turned them around until his back was resting against the wall, lowering himself until he sat on the ground with her on his lap, promising her that everything would be alright, that he was there for her, that she wasn’t alone in this. Promises he vowed himself he would keep, no matter what.

Buffy could barely believe that a vampire—a soulless vampire, at that—seemed to know exactly what she needed. Her parents, her watcher and her friends hadn’t even known there’d been something wrong with her until it practically slapped them in the face… and some of them still didn’t know. She could barely believe that Spike was letting her cry in his arms, not pressing her to share with him what was wrong, merely holding her, showing her more care than anyone else had since that fatidic night.

She needed him to know, though. Needed to tell him all she had kept bottled up in her chest. Broken, soft words came forth and she told him about the Master, the prophecy, her death, Angel’s betrayal and everything she’d gone through since then.

He listened to her in silence, knowing she needed to let it all out. It took all of his self-control to remain calm—at least on the outside—as he heard her. To stop himself from going into the club and beating the souled wonder into a bloody pulp for the part he’d played in this. He’d never been one for torture, that was more Angelus’ style, but for him he would gladly make an exception. Figures the pompous git couldn’t be bothered with trying to stop Bat-face before he harmed his girl. Spike knew if it’d been him, he would’ve stopped the sodding Master or dust in the intent. Just a couple of hours in her company and he would’ve gladly given his unlife if it meant she could live. If it meant she wouldn’t have to go through this, hurt like this.

His arms tightened around her middle, hauling her even nearer, as he realized how close he’d been to not ever meeting her. He dreaded to think what might’ve happen if her friend hadn’t saved her that night. Dreaded to think he wouldn’t have known her other than as another slayer fallen in the line of duty. Wouldn’t have felt her warmth seep into him, the radiance of her smile illuminating his night, the electricity seizing his body as he kissed her, her fragrance stealing his senses and making him forget a creature of the night like him shouldn’t dream of touching an angel like her.

She didn’t seem to care about that, though. The blonde goddess in his arms was telling him things not even her ‘friends’ were aware of, things she hadn’t shared with anyone else but him, and he felt… humbled by her trust in him. And for that, he fell for her a little more. For her strength, her weaknesses, all the little things that made her who she was. She wasn't just a Slayer, she was a girl. A young girl who’d wanted to enjoy all the simple things in life, to just live her life, but instead had been forced to mature all too quickly, to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders. Who had been forced to face her own mortality, her own demons and came out stronger because of it.

Buffy was mildly shocked—no, scratch that—very shocked by the platinum blond’s behavior. She wasn’t sure how she expected him to react to the whole sordid story of her death and posterior resuscitation, but it wasn’t like this. This quiet understanding of his, the way he’d allowed her to cry her eyes out all over his shirt without complaining even once, the soothing way he cooed and whispered sweet nothings in her ear, in which he touched her and offered her his strength, in which he consoled her in a much more compassionate way than she would’ve given a soulless vampire credit for. He was all she could’ve asked for and more than that, he was all she needed. The depth of her feelings for him scared her yet at the same time reassured her that she’d made the right decision by entrusting him with her deepest secrets.

She sighed softly against his chest when she finished her tale, feeling more than a little drained but lighter than she had in months. Perhaps there was some truth to confession being good for the soul, after all. Of course, it all depended to whom she was confessing it to. Somehow, she didn’t think it would have been the same with Angel.

And wasn’t that a kicker? Spike seemed to understand the depth of human emotion, the depth of her pain, much better than the souled vampire ever had—and boy, if she wasn’t relieved it was the blond man here with her and not the brooding vamp.

“Feel better, pet?” he asked, rubbing her back. The tremulous smile that graced her lips when she pulled back to look up at him, almost blinded him with its intensity.

“Much.” She leaned forward to place a soft kiss on his lips. A kiss that left him wanting for more. “Thank you.”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I did nothin’, kitten.”

“You did more than anyone else has done for me lately, just by being there for me.”

“Well, figure it’s my job as potential boyfriend, yeah?” He winked at her and she giggled. And bloody hell, if she wasn’t a vision when she smiled, even with her face slightly red and puffy from crying.

“If you keep this up, we’ll be dropping the potential out of that phrase in no time at all.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” she responded with a wink.

“Guess I’ll just have to apply myself then.” He cocked his head to the side, turning serious all of the sudden. “So, tell me, where do we go from here, love?”

“Anywhere you want, Spike. Anywhere you want.”

tbc

Part 5

Spike helped Buffy to stand up, but remained crouched on the ground a little longer when he focused on how she was dressed for the first time this evening. He’d been too distracted by her pain and their encounter with the poncy git to notice before, but now… Bloody hell, now he was gob smacked by her luminescent beauty.

Sure, he’d noted she was beautiful. Had been half-hard from the moment he pulled her into his arms on the dance floor, even more so when he kissed her and then she showed him a glimpse of that Slayer power he’d sensed crackling under the surface by overpowering the sodding bane of his existence. Had felt how soft her skin was, how alluring her scent, how drawn he was to her, but it had been nothing more than fleeting, abstract thoughts. He’d been aware of the growing attraction he felt for her, but it hadn’t quite hit him until now.

This… this was different. This was him realizing she was a very desirable woman. This was him realizing he wouldn’t mind being her ‘boyfriend’, or even having to hang out with her little chums, as if he weren’t a creature of the night—one who’d taken great pride in killing two slayers prior to this day—if that’s indeed what it’d take to be with her.

His indigo gaze slowly raked over the mid-thigh length, form-fitting dress. Bloody brilliant, that’s what it was! Its deep wine color the perfect shade to accentuate her petite frame, her golden hair and skin, making her glow provocatively even under the dim illumination of the alley. Not to mention it showcased those long, toned, gorgeous legs of hers quite nicely, especially from his current position.

His eyes caressed her from her dainty feet encased in high heeled sandals, up her calves and the lovely portion of thigh her outfit revealed; taking in the way the fabric hugged her hips and enveloped her tiny waist, the way it clung to the perfect mounds his fingers itched to touch and his mouth salivated to taste. Up to the slender column of her neck and the soft, wavering smile that tugged at her lips and made her eyes twinkle and her flesh blush under his heated perusal.

Buffy wasn’t certain what had changed, but it was obvious something had. It was there in the azure depths for her to see, to touch, to drown in if she so chose. It was in the air, making it practically sizzle with static intensity. It was something that made her breath hitch in her throat, made her skin hum, turned her blood into molten lava. She felt more like a woman than she ever had. Older than her sixteen years and at the same time, way younger; made her feel things that scared the hell out of her yet made her want for more, made her yearn for something she couldn’t even grasp and froze her to the spot as she waited for his next move.

It didn’t take long.

He rose to his feet in one fluid motion, stalking her until he had her pressed between the wall and his hard chest. And still she could do little more than gape at him and shiver, not certain as to how to react to the predatory gleam in his eyes. She was confused, on edge, as she recognized the desire swirling in the bluer than blue depths, as she felt her body respond in a way it never had.

Had she ever felt like this before? As if she would die if he didn’t kiss her? No, came the resounding answer. Never. Not with Pike, Angel, or any of the few other guys she’d dated.

Buffy gasped and her eyes widened when the platinum blond vampire raised his hand to her face, his fingers feeling icy cold as they trailed over her flushed cheeks and yet, instead of cooling her flesh as she’d expected, it had quite the opposite effect.

Her breathing came in soft pants as his face came closer to hers, his gaze fixated on her mouth when the tip of her tongue peeked out to wet her lips. He groaned and the husky sound went straight to her core. She could feel something deep inside her, coiling, tightening, furling, making her burn with every look, every caress.

God, if this was what it felt like before he kissed her, what would happen when he did? It didn’t take long to discover the answer.

His mouth came crashing down on hers; unrelentingly coaxing her into fully participating as his teeth nipped on her bottom lip, his tongue tangling with hers in a dance that took her breath away.

Spike couldn’t get enough of the golden goddess in his arms. Her taste intoxicated him, the faint aroma of her growing arousal further inflaming his senses, the soft mewls, moans and gasps that his attention elicited drove him to distraction.

Buffy made him feel alive in more ways than the obvious. She made him feel as if he could touch the sun, as if there might be something left for him in this world after all.

She clung tightly to the lapels of his duster just as one of his hands buried itself in her hair, tilting her head slightly to the side to plunder her mouth from another angle. He was drunk off her flavor, from her response. His fingers skimmed along her collarbone, dancing over the luscious curve of her breast to her waist. His lips followed their downward path, settling on her throat to worry her pulse point with his tongue and teeth. The need to make her his, to claim her, was nearly overwhelming; his demon and the man he’d been long ago both wanting this girl, this woman for their own.

He wouldn’t, though. Not now or like this, at least. If they did this or rather, when they did this, he wanted her fully cognizant of what a claim entailed. He wanted her to be aware of what he was doing, to want it as much as he did. And he was confident that she would accept it, and him, eventually.

He had no bloody idea where this urge came from. Not even with Dru had he felt this nearly uncontrollable need to claim her, and he’d been with her for well over a century. He’d tried once or twice, but there were only so many times he could stand being rejected before shelving the idea in the deep recesses of his subconscious. At the time, it’d hurt like a bitch, but he was slowly coming to the realization that perhaps his Sire had been in the right all along. How else could he explain the pull towards a girl who by all rights should be his mortal enemy?

And why was he even fucking thinking of this when he had a warm and willing, pliant woman in his arms? One who was moaning and panting and had wound her hands around his neck to haul him closer at the same time she pressed her body against his. His mouth slid up to find hers, devouring her as he cupped her supple breast over her dress, his nimble fingers teasing her taut, rosy bud into a hardened little spear he craved to taste.

His other hand skimmed up and down her naked back, relishing in the heat of her skin against his, while thinking whoever made this scrap of cloth she called a dress was a fucking genius. He reveled in every tiny shiver he could feel wracking her frame, in every little mewl and cry she breathed into his mouth, in the way her tongue slid against his, demanding more from him, demanding it now. And he was more than eager to comply.

Buffy was adrift; lost in a haze of desire. Confusion faded fast in lieu of all the new sensations coursing through her body. She was ablaze, every nerve ending afire. Her panties were damp and she had to press her thighs hard against each other to release some of the pressure building in her center.

Suddenly, and before she could even think to protest, Spike pulled slightly away and lowered his head to capture a nipple with his mouth through her dress. Moaning deep in her throat, she arched her back, pushing her breast closer to him, feeling every pull, every suck, every nip all the way down to her clit.

He brought a hand down to her leg, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of her dress and starting a nerve-wracking ascent up her thigh, while one of his insinuated itself between her knees, urging her to part them.

Her breath caught in her throat and her heart skipped a beat when she felt his digits glide over the sodden fabric that covered her sex. Her knees nearly buckled under her when he slid them beneath the fabric, diving into her nether folds.

Up and down, down and up. Slowly, maddeningly so; teasing her, driving her crazy, making her jump out of her skin when his fingers finally made contact with her sensitized nubbin.

Bloody hell, but she was hot, scorching him, branding him with her creamy essence as it dripped into his waiting hand. She moaned his name and his mouth released her nipple to savor it from her lips.

She was so bleeding responsive and he couldn’t get enough of her. Mindless with lust, he pulled her leg up to wrap around his hip, opening her further to him as he rubbed his hardened prick against the soft flesh of her thigh. His fingers circled her clit, then her entrance; his index finger probing inside carefully, groaning loudly when her snug walls pulsed and contracted around it.

She was wet and tight and felt so bloody good as she squeezed the hell out of his digit at the same time her tongue swirled around his, her hips moving in tandem with the movement of his hand.

Then she was falling, plummeting, careening over the precipice; a hoarse, lusty Oh God, Spike rasping her throat as she found sweet release.

It took every ounce of self-control Spike possessed not to follow her into oblivion, disgrace himself like a sodding school boy on a first date when her juices drenched his hand, baptizing him with her come. His world tilted off its axis as he tumbled head over heels for the girl in his arms.

His Slayer.

tbc