Title: My Boyfriend's Back
Author: Pattyanne
Summary: Buffy is in her second year of
college. Angel is gone for good. Spike returned
from South America and claimed Buffy. No
Initiative, no chip, no Riley!


AN: I should probably tell you now, Spike is
very possessive and 'in charge' in this
story. Buffy is not the bitch on wheels she
was. I wrote her to be a little more submissive
to the 'Big Bad'. I just felt like it. Some people have
complained about that in the past, so keep it in
mind if you decide to read it.




Part One...


Willow glanced up with her best "May I help you?"
smile firmly in place when the front door of the
Magic Box swung open.

When she saw who had come in, her smile began
to fade. She couldn't have been, or looked, more
surprised if the Queen of England had walked in
and asked for directions.

"Well, look who's here," Spike said, producing his
most charming smile. "My favorite little witch."

He strolled casually across the room, with his hands
tucked into the front pockets of his trousers. "How've
you been, luv?"

Willow attempted to return his smile. "I've been good,"
she said, striving for the same nonchalance that he
displayed so effortlessly. "Thanks for asking."

As surprised as she was to see him, she couldn't
help being intensely aware of the fact that he looked
fantastic. Although his basic appearance hadn't
changed, and never would, he still looked different.

He had the same platinum blonde hair, sculpted
features, and penetrating dark blue eyes, but he
seemed to have gotten over his love affair with the
color black.

**Well, there's some black, but at least he's
not covered from head to toe in it..**

His trousers were beige brushed suede, and clung
attractively to his well formed thighs. A cream
colored turtleneck lay beneath a silk shirt almost
the same color as his eyes. It was buttoned
halfway up, with the ends tucked neatly into his
pants.

His coat, the black duster that defined him so
well, was new. The same basic style, but
fashioned of buttery soft suede.

He looked, Willow decided frankly, devastating.

Casting around in her mind for something to break
the silence, she fell back on inane small talk. "So,
where...HOW have you been?"

Spike smiled, watching her play nervously with
a lock of her hair. "To answer your first question,"
he replied, crossing the room to the counter she
was standing behind and sitting on it, "I've been
all over the world. As to your second question, I've
been quite well, thanks."

"Oh! Well...good. That's good. Could I ask another
question?" she ventured timidly.

"Why not?" he said indulgently. "I'm feeling generous
tonight."

Willow wiped her sweaty palms on the front of her
skirt. "Okay, don't take this the wrong way, but
why are you here? I mean," she clarified quickly,
"why are you in Sunnydale, not...you know...why
are you in the Magic Box?"

Spike leveled his perceptive gaze on her, narrowing
his eyes. If his intent had been to unnerve her, he
succeeded beautifully.

"Not that you have to have a reason or anything. I
mean, it's a free country...for YOU too." She
cringed inwardly, knowing that she was babbling
like an idiot, but unable to stop herself. "And anyway,
it's not like you have to tell ME the reason you're
here, because like I said...country...free."

Finally running out of steam, she took a deep breath.

Fortunately, her demeanor seemed to amuse
him. "Relax, Red," he said soothingly. 'I'm not
here to do you any harm, I promise." He chuckled.
"No bottles in your face or teeth in your neck."

Willow forced out a weak laugh. "That's...good
to know," she stammered. "So, um...you're just
passing through?"

"Not exactly," Spike said, shaking his head. "Now
enough of the pleasantries. Where's Buffy?" he
asked directly.

Willow felt her stomach tighten. "Why?"

He laughed again. "So protective," he commented.
"Don't fret, luv. Goldielocks is perfectly safe from
the big bad wolf."

"Again...good to know." She swallowed hard. "But
I'm really not sure where she is tonight," she added.

Spike looked at her for a nerverackingly long mo-
ment. "You wouldn't lie to me...would you, luv?"

Despite the smile on his face, his tone had a hint
of a warning in it.

"No!" Willow said, a little too loudly. "I wouldn't do
that. I mean, I try to be an honest person and...and
lying is wrong, and...well, I've never been very good
at it, anyway," she admitted.

Spike met her unwavering gaze for a few more seconds.

"You know what?" he said abruptly, sliding off the
counter, "I believe you. You're probably not very good
at it."

Willow needlessly rearranged items on the counter,
neatening what was already perfectly neat to begin
with. "So...it's been nice seeing you," she said cheer-
fully, "but I was just getting ready to close up when
you got here...so...."


Spike ignored her words. "I've already been to her
house and there was no one home. She living on campus these days?"

Willow hesitated. "No...she's still living at home, but
she's...sort of out tonight."

"Hmm," he nodded. "Patrolling?"

"No." She took a step back from the counter. "Dating."

Spike frowned slightly, his eyes flashing yellow for a
brief instant. "You don't say?" he asked quietly. "And
who is she doing that with?"

"Oh, with a guy. Just a guy. Some guy."

Spike gave her a look that demanded further infor-
mation.

"A guy that...that she has a couple of classes with."

"Give me a name, luv."

She almost made up a name, then thought better of
it when she remembered her lack of skill in the
art of mendacity. "Parker...somebody. I don't know
his last name." She got another inquisitive stare. "I
really DON'T," she added defensively.

A few seconds ticked by, stretching her nerves to the
screaming point.


"All right," Spike finally said, turning to leave. "Thanks
for the help luv."

His hand was on the doorknob when Willow gathered
her nerve and spoke up.

"You don't have a right to be mad because she's
dating, you know. I mean, YOU left HER, remember?
Did you think she was gonna sit and wait forever? It's
been what...over a year since you took off?"

Spike pulled the door open. "Well, I'm here now," he
said, without looking at her. "And I WILL take back
what's mine."

He walked out the door, closing it with a loud bang.

Willow counted to ten, then reached for the phone.

TBC....


What do you think?

Title: My Boyfriend's Back
Author: Pattyanne




Part Two...

Spike stood on the front porch of Buffy's house,
thumb pressing firmly down on the doorbell, then
rapped on the door with his fist.

"Still not home?" He walked the perimeter of the
house, searching for signs of life within, finding
nothing but silence.

"Where the hell are you, Slayer?" He checked his
watch. Almost midnight. "You'd best get your
shapely ass home soon, girl. If I have to come looking
for you...."

A car pulled into the driveway, and he moved back into
the shadows.

Small and sporty looking, with an obnoxious bright
yellow paint job, the sort of car a rich father would buy
for a spoiled child, it came to a stop. Music blasted
from a top of the line sound system.

Spike watched as the driver turned to face the girl
sitting beside him.

**If you value your life, boy, you will NOT touch...**

"Son of a..." he bit out when he saw them begin to
exchange kisses. It took every ounce of will power
at his command not to drag that boy out of his kiddie
car and beat him to death.

A moment later, the passenger side door opened and
Buffy stepped out of the car. Spike glared as she
leaned down to say goodnight to her date and closed
the door.

She looked sensational. Even prettier than he remembered,
wearing a pair of jeans that looked painted on, and
a red silk blouse that clung to her curves. Her hair was longer, a gorgeous mixture of honey and golden brown that reached halfway to her waist. It was thick and shiny, and the memory of it's softness made his fingers itch to
play with it.

He waited until she'd unlocked the front door and gone inside before he left his hiding place. The boy had already backed his car out of the driveway and driven off, music blaring again.

Spike turned the doorknob quietly, but she had locked
up. Breaking the lock presented no problem, but he
would wait and see if he needed to. He rang the door-
bell, smiling when he heard her running down the stairs.

She must have thought that her date had returned for some reason, judging by the expectant smile on her face...a smile that disappeared instantly when she saw who was actually standing there.

"Hello, sweetheart," he said, his voice low and suggestive. "How's my girl?"

Buffy didn't reply with words. Instead, she tried to slam the door, forcing Spike to place his foot in the way to block it.


Grabbing the edge of the door in one hand, he said, "Now, now...is that any way to treat your lover?"

"Maybe not!" she snapped. "But it's definitely the way to treat YOU!" She stopped her attempts to close the door, but stood her ground and blocked him from entering the house.

"What the hell do you want?" she demanded.

"Just you, baby," Spike answered. "Just what belongs to me." He placed his other hand on the door. "If you don't want this door torn off it's hinges, you'd best let me in."

Buffy glared at him. She knew from past experience that Spike didn't make idle threats, and he never gave more than one warning. Since she didn't want to have to ex plain to her mother where the front door had disappeared to, she opened it all the way and took three steps back.

Spike stepped into the entryway with a smirk that she
wanted to slap right off his face.

"Close the door, baby," he said, walking into the living
room without a backward glance. "It's getting chilly outside." Shedding his coat, he tossed it across the back of an armchair, then settled himself on the sofa, smiling at her.

Wishing that she'd had the presence of mind to have had Willow revoke his visiting privileges after he'd left, Buffy slammed the door so hard that the living room window rattled in its frame.

Stomping into the living room, she folded her arms across her chest. "Now will you tell me why you're here?"

"I've missed you, sweetheart," he said, patting the sofa
cushion beside him in a clear invitation. "Come here and give me a kiss hello."

She ignored the gesture, choosing to sit in a chair
against the opposite wall, sending an equally clear message by putting as much distance between them as she could, without actually leaving the room.

"I'll pass," she said curtly, turning down his offer.

To her surprise, Spike merely shrugged. "Fine. But you're only depriving yourself. I mean," he added, winking at her, "kissing is one of the things we do best, remember?"

Buffy shifted nervously in her chair. Of course she re-
membered. This wasn't the type of guy you'd forget.

"Actually, I don't," she lied, hoping he'd buy it.

He didn't. "Oh, please," he scoffed. "You can't lie to me. Why do you even bother trying?"

Leaning back against the sofa, he stretched his legs
out and laced his fingers together on his abdomen, mer inches from his belt buckle.

"You know damn well that you remember the times
we'd make out for hours, right here on this sofa. I'd kiss you so long and hard that your pretty little mouth would be all swollen and tender."

Buffy forced herself not to call up the memory, digging
her nails into the padded arms of her chair. "Just cut
it out and tell me why you're here!"

The amusement abruptly left his face, and his dark eyes stared intently into hers, nailing her to the back of her chair like a butterfly on a hat pin. "Who the hell were
you out with tonight?"

Her entire body tensed. "How is that any of YOUR
business?" she challenged, struggling for a bravado that she didn't really feel.

"Indulge me," he said. "I'd like to know the name of the man stupid enough to put his hands on MY girl." His eyes moved up and down her body with a caressing gaze. "Call me old fashioned."

"I'll call you something, all right," she said hotly. "But THAT won't be it."

His smile came back. "My kitten has sharpened her claws."

"Yeah. She's sharpened her stakes, too." Buffy's eyes
flashed with angry fire. "You're sporting serious brass, showing up here after all this time, interrogating me about who I'm dating..."

"Who you WERE dating," Spike corrected. "Past tense."

Buffy countered with her "Just who the hell do you think you ARE?" look. "Because YOU say so?"

"Now you're getting it," he said approvingly. "Because I say so. And, because you wouldn't want the boy to come down with a nasty case of death, would you?"

Her eyes skittered away from his, jumping nervously from one object in the room to another. "Why are you doing this to me?" she asked softly.

Spike leaned forward. "Because you...look at me, Buffy...you are mine." His voice suddenly dropped into a lower, more threatening register. "You've ALWAYS been mine, and you bloody always WILL be!"

Buffy jumped to her feet. She turned to run from the room, but he'd been expecting this and was on her before she got more than a few steps away.

Grabbing her right bicep, he yanked her to a stop and
slid his free arm around her waist, hauling her roughly
against him.

As strong as she was, she'd never had any real ability
to resist him. The feel of his body against hers had
always depleted her strength, making her weak in the
knees, and this embrace was no exception.

Spike's arm felt like a steel bar that she couldn't dis-
lodge. "LET GO OF ME!"

"Make me," he laughed, her struggles only exciting him more. Releasing his hold on her arm, he raised his hand to her face and held it firmly as he lowered his head and captured her mouth beneath his.

Buffy splayed her hands on his chest and tried to
shove him away. He responded by deepening the
kiss, exploring her mouth with passionate intensity.

She could feel her resolve melting like butter on a hot
griddle, as his kiss brought back memories of past
embraces, of moist, feverish kisses they'd shared back when it was all new...when they couldn't keep their hands off each other.

Spike had been right when he'd said that kissing was
one of their best events. No mere meeting of lips, their kisses had been a sexual act unto themselves, deep, wet, and penetrating.

Buffy had been on the receiving end of many kisses. Some had been casual, some had been intensely intimate, most had been pleasureable.


But the man holding her now had absolutely no equal. He kissed like there was no tomorrow.

Pressing himself against her, his hands would move
restlessly over her body, his fingers tangling in her
hair as he whispered in her ear between kisses, telling her how beautiful she was, how badly he wanted her.

**The way he's doing now....God help me.**

She tried not to fall for it, not to respond, calling to the
forefront of her mind all the hurt he'd inflicted on her
when he'd left...all the anger, all the sadness, and
all the tears she'd cried.

The ache in her heart had taken months to become even bearable, and she'd only just begun to tentatively move through it by accepting an invitation to a party where she'd connected with Parker Abrams, one of the students in her psych class.

They'd spent the entire evening talking only with
each other. He'd called the following morning to
ask her to dinner, and they'd been out twice since then.


Attractive and charming, he'd shown her a good time,
and she'd looked forward to seeing him again.

But standing here now, being kissed by a vampire that
had broken her heart, she was having trouble remembering what Parker even looked like.

Spike knew her so well, knew exactly how to please
her, a skill he'd perfected over long, lingering hours
alone together.

She could hear bells pealing in her head, and it took her a few seconds to realize that it was the telephone
ringing, not her ears.

When the sound finally penetrated the haze of pleasure she was swimming in, Buffy wedged her hands bewteen her body and Spike's, managing to push him a few inches away. "Let go," she panted.

"No," he replied, no humor in his voice. "It's been too
long since I've held you."

He shouldn't have reminded her.

"Well, whose fault is THAT?" she snapped. "Let GO!"

Finally breaking away, she practically ran for the phone. Picking up the receiver, she glared at him.


"Hello...Oh, hi...Yeah, I know...He's here...I don't know...No, I didn't check the machine...That's all right...It probably wouldn't have made any difference...No, I'm fine...I can't talk right now...Sure...I'll call you tomorrow...Mm-hmm...Bye."

She hung up the phone and punched the 'replay' button on the answering machine. Willow's voice was high pitched and nervous.

"Buffy?...It's Willow...If you're home, pick up...Hello?...Okay, I just wanted to let you know that Spike was here tonight at the shop...He's back in town and he came her looking for you. I thought I should warn you cause I sort of told him that you had a date tonight and he seems...put out about it. I think he was heading to your place after he left here, so...just call me, okay?"

Sighing, Buffy erased the message.

"Willow." Spike sounded amused. "So cute...and such a master at the art of understatement."

Buffy watched him warily as he walked towards her. "What's that supposed to mean?"


"It means," he replied, reaching for the phone and taking it off the hook, "that I wasn't 'put out' about you having a date with Joe College." He stared into her eyes, wanting to be sure she understood. "I was angrier than you ever want to see me, little girl, and quite ready to snap his bloody neck for even THINKING about touching you."

"But, why?" Buffy demanded, stamping one foot like a spoiled child. "Why the hell do you care who touches me?" She ducked away from the hands that were reaching for her. "YOU left ME, remember?"

Spike was right on her heels as she returned to the living room. "But I came back."

"Oh, yeah! A year later! Do you think you deserve some sort of extra credit for that?" Her voice was laced with sar casm. "What are you expecting me to say? Gee, Spike, I'm SO glad you're back. Don't worry about DESERTING ME a year ago, cause you're here now so all is forgiven, and we'll just pick up right where we left off, take me I'm yours?"


"Buffy..." His voice held a mild warning, but she was
too worked up to care.

"Don't!" she lashed out. "Don't even TRY and defend
yourself, because if you think that I'll take any old
crap you care to dish out, then you have got another
think coming!"

Her voice rose in volume as she got angrier.

"This," she continued recklessly, "is MY life. You gave
up your right to have a say in it when you got in your
car and drove away."

Afraid that she was going to start crying, Buffy paused
to collect herself.

The memory was as painfully sharp and clear as it had been on the day it happened, the day her happiness had been brutally torn away by a man who'd claimed to love her.

They had been together ever since Spike had left Drusilla in South America, and returned to Sunnydale to stake his claim on the slayer. For over a year, Buffy had been more content than she'd ever been.

So, she hadn't seen it coming. One day she'd woken up happy, and had gone to bed in tears.


He had come home that night displaying all the
symptoms of a foul mood...increased profanity, the
inability to sit still, and complete lack of interest
in physical contact with her.

She hadn't been too concerned at first. She was used
to his mercurial moods, and they never lasted long. As
the evening wore on, she had done everything she could to cajole him out of his funk.

She had used all the well practiced tricks at her dis-
posal, from trying to make him laugh at her ineptitude
at telling jokes, to seductive words that assured him she knew exactly how to cheer him up, and that if he would just come upstairs, she'd be happy to demonstrate.

Nothing had worked, and she'd become more and more nervous as she'd realized that this was no mere mood swing, and wondered if something she had done was the cause of his ill humor.

When she'd finally pried it out of him, the things he'd
said had sent her into a tailspin.

He had accused her of trying to domesticate him, making him her pet vampire by telling him not to hunt and feed off people, and forcing him to exist on blood purchased at a meat processing plant.

She was making him soft, he had told her, an object of
derision in the demon world.

Slayer whipped, they called him. A frigging lap dog. She was trying to turn him into the sort of vampire that
Angel had become and he fucking HATED Angel.

He was being laughed at by vamps that had always
feared him, and it was HER fault!

Although nearly sick with pain at the thought of losing
him, Buffy hadn't been able to defend herself against
his charges. There could be no compromise on the
issue. She was the slayer, pure and simple. She couldn't very well slay other vampires who fed off people, and leave HIM alone to do as he pleased.

Hours of asking him...begging him...to leave things as
they had been, were of no avail. He had left her that
night, left without indicating whether or not he would
ever return.


After watching the red glow of his car's tail lights
disappear, she had run upstairs and thrown herself
down on her bed, crying harder than she'd ever done
before.

All night she had wept, and when morning finally
came, she'd been wrung dry of tears.

Time passed, and somewhere along the way, her
sadness had turned into anger.

Standing here face to face with her errant lover, Buffy
seized on that anger, using it to guide her and to
strengthen her convictions.

Spike narrowed his eyes, a gesture that...in her
agitation...she didn't immediately pick up on.

"Are you finished?" he asked, a little too politely.

Buffy plowed heedlessly ahead, ignoring...or
missing...another clear warning.

"I will date whoever I choose to date! And I will decide who puts his hands on me, not..."

Her little speech was halted when Spike slapped his
hands flat against the wall on either side of her head,
effectively caging her in.


Buffy inhaled sharply with surprise. She'd forgotten
how fast he could move when he chose to.

"The only man who is going to put his hands, or anything else on you, is me." His voice and his expression were deadly serious. "I'll make sure of it, even if I have to lock you in your room 24/7."

After a few seconds, his demeanor suddenly changed. He smiled down at her, that go-to-hell sexy smile that always turned her on.

"Don't worry, baby," he said, leaning closer until their lips nearly touched. "I'll make sure you enjoy every moment of your captivity."


TBC......

Part Three.....

Spike pushed Buffy against the wall, pin-
ning her with his body pressed intimately
against hers. Bending his head, he nuzzled
the satin of her cheek with airy kisses.

"Baby," he whispered in her ear, "Don't you
remember how good it was...the times we'd
make love for hours and hours."

"Stop it," she said, her voice so weak and breathy
that even SHE didn't take herself seriously. "I...I
don't want..."

"Yes, you do," he insisted, biting gently on her
ear lobe. "You want me just as badly as I want
you. We can't hide that from each other. We never
could."

Buffy closed her eyes and turned her face away. "No,
you're wrong..."

Spike just smiled, amused at her efforts to make him
think she was indifferent to his touch.

"I'm not wrong," he said. Cupping her face in his hands,
he stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. "Right from the
beginning, from the second I saw you, I knew I had
to have you...that you were for me." His lips strayed
across the side of her face. "You're so beautiful, baby,"
he murmured. "My beautiful little slayer...that's what
you are."

Her resistance was fading fast, but she fought
to hold on to it. "Stop...I mean it..."

"Shh," he scolded her. "Don't talk. Just feel how
much I want you...and your body will tell you what
it wants...what it needs..."

Before she could say anything more, he kissed
her, projecting everything he felt for her...the love,
and the lust, and the need...into his touch.

Buffy knew then that she was lost. No matter what
he may have been wrong about, he was right
about this. Their passion for each other was a
constant blaze, burning through them like an out
of control forest fire.

Her hands slid up the front of his shirt, fingers
grasping the material as she pulled him even
closer. Her head tilted back and she made a
soft, incomprehensible sound as her lips parted
beneath his.

"That's right," he said softly. "That's my girl. God,
I love those little sounds you make when you're
hot for me."

"I hate you," she whimpered.

"Mmm...hate me some more."

Spike moved his hands down her back, tug-
ging on the fabric of her blouse until it
separated from her jeans. Slipping his hands
beneath it, he caressed the smooth skin of
her back.

With their mouths still joined, Buffy's arms
crept up around his neck. He picked her up
and carried her to the sofa, sitting down with
her in his lap.

Tilting her back over his arm, he moved his
mouth down the vulnerable flesh of her throat,
his tongue touching the faint scar that marked
her as his.

"I'd almost forgotten how lovely you are," he
said. "How warm and soft...oh, and you smell
so damn good."

He lifted one hand and stroked her hair, taking
a handful of it and wrapping it around his
fist.

"Your hair is longer, too." He rubbed his cheek
against it. "So silky and soft...I love it. Don't ever
cut it, okay? Will you do that for me, baby?"

Buffy nodded. "If you want me to. Spike...."

"What, bright eyes?"

"It's been so long." Her voice was soft and im-
ploring. "Make love to me."

"I will." He smiled, pulling back to look into her
eyes. "You're mine, Buffy," he said firmly. You
belong to me. Say it."

"Spike...."

"Say it!" he repeated, more urgently. "Say that
you're mine!"

"I am," she whispered fiercely. "I'm yours. You
know it."

Sitting up straight, he jerked her closer. "Did you let
that boy touch you like this?"

Buffy swallowed hard. "Like...like this?"

Spike kissed her throat, lingering in the soft hollow
at it's base. "Did he touch your bare skin...did he
kiss it?"

She shook her head. "No...we only went out twice."

He laughed harshly. "So what?" he scoffed. "I wanted
you the minute I saw you. I would have tried."

Buffy smiled, stroking his cheek. "Well, you're rash
and impulsive."

"No," he corrected her. "I just know what I want." His
tongue traced the rim of her ear. "And if I thought
that he had touched you...that ANY other man had
touched you, seen you like this..."

"Stop," Buffy said, forcing him to look at her. "He
didn't. No one else has. There's only you." She
kissed him, long and hard. "Now, take me upstairs!"

Delighted at her demanding tone, he stood up,
bouncing her in his arms and laughing when she
yelped.

"I'll take you upstairs," he said. "And downstairs...and
ON the stairs."

He carried her across the room and up the stair-
case, still listing all the places he would ' take '
her.

"On the dining room table...the carpet in front of
the fireplace...the back porch swing...the laundry
room...."

"The LAUNDRY room?"

"In the moonlight, out by the rosebushes..."

"Ouch!"

***********************************************





Spike set her on her feet next to the bed. He
placed his hands on her waist and spun her
until she was facing away from him, then
reached for the hem of her shirt and began
to tug it up and over her head.

Her skin was lightly tanned, with a faint
blush of color. It's texture and scent, com-
bined with it's delicious living warmth, made
him even harder than he already was.

Gathering her hair, he laid it to one side and
kissed the curve of her shoulder, drawing a
wet line with his tongue. He could see the
goosebumps rise on the back of her neck as
his hands slid down her arms.

Slowly drawing out the motions, he popped open
the snap of her jeans, then moved the zipper
down.

She reached for the waistband, trying to
push her pants down faster,but he stopped
her with a light slap on her hands. "Ah, ah,
ah...good things come to patient little girls."

Lowering her hands, she released a sound
that let him know how she felt about being
patient at this particular moment.

He ignored it. "First things first," he said
teasingly. He fingered the lace straps of
her bra. "This is pretty. Red is definitely
your color, darling."

She tilted her head back to look at him. "Wait
until you see my panties," she said, licking
her lips.

His lust ratcheted up another notch. "I'll get
there," he said, as his hands moved around
front to find the clasp of her bra. "This is
almost too pretty to take off."

Buffy was about to protest when she felt
him twist the clasp and pull the straps
down her arms.

Filling his hands with her lush curves, he
grinned at her. "I said 'almost'."

Her eyes drifted closed as he began to
fondle her in the familiar ways that she'd
missed so much. Spike knew every inch
of her body, all the ways she liked to
be touched and teased.

He squeezed her breasts gently, cup-
ping them from beneath and lifting them
slightly as his thumbs swept back and
forth over the tight peaks.

"You like that, don't you?" he asked
needlessly when he heard her breathing
escalate.

Buffy nodded, arching her back and forcing
herself more fully into his waiting hands. "I
love that...and you know it."

He chuckled. "I know...but you like it when I
ask, too."

This was true. Bedroom talk drove her crazy,
and Spike was fluent in it.

"They're so warm and soft...except here." His
fingertips touched her nipples. "Here, they're
very firm." He turned her in his arms, smiling
at her. "Can I kiss them?"

Buffy shrugged, as though it didn't matter one
way or the other. "I suppose so," she said,
knowing there was no way in hell she was going
to let him go anywhere until he did.

Bending his head, he placed a gentle kiss on
each rose colored tip, parting his lips slightly.

Closing his eyes, he rubbed his cheek against
her. "I want to taste them, too." He extended
his tongue and drew damp circles on her skin.

Buffy raised her hands and twined her fingers
in his hair, guiding his mouth where she wanted
it to go.

He kissed and licked every inch of both her
breasts. Only when he sensed her impatience
getting ready to spill over did he open his mouth
and take her in. He suckled, alternating the
pressure from light and barely there, to hungry
and hard.

Her head dropped back, and she stared sight-
lessly at the ceiling, wondering how she had
managed to exist for over a year without this
man.

**I'm really gonna punish him for that...later**

He pulled away suddenly, startling her out of
the half swoon she was falling into. Too
impatient to work the buttons, he simply pulled
his shirt open, letting them pop off and
scatter around the room.

Buffy's eyes moved down as he yanked his sweater
off and tossed it to one side. Those pants he had on
didn't hide anything, announcing quite clearly that
this was a fully aroused man.

Spike saw where she was looking and pushed
his hips forward a little, showing off for her as
he unbuckled his belt.

As he shoved the tight material down, Buffy
had to smile, remembering his aversion to
undergarments of any kind.

"What's funny, honey?" he asked, as he toed
off his boots.

"Absolutely nothing," she replied, touching
her upper lip with the tip of her tongue.

Spike kicked his trousers off and reached
for her. "Come here, then," he demanded,
sliding his arm around her waist. "Baby needs
tending to."

Baby couldn't take her eyes off the hard
length extending straight out from his body. It
was so blatantly male, so totally sexual, that
she felt her own body react, preparing itself
for what was about to happen.

Tightening his arm around her, Spike lifted
her clear off her feet and walked her back-
wards until she felt the edge of the bed
against the back of her legs.

He let go of her then, dropping her down on
the mattress, making her laugh with the
pure happiness of knowing that her man was
home, that her world would soon be set right.

Kneeling in front of her, Spike slipped her
sandals off and kissed the instep of each
little foot, then tugged the tight denim down
her thighs, tossing the jeans to one side.

The promised treat of seeing her under-
pants was all she'd implied it would be, a
confection of scarlet lace, with tiny satin
ribbons holding them closed on her hips.

After looking his fill, he met her gaze with
his. "I'm going to buy you more of those," he
vowed.

Lowering his head, he kissed the inside of
her thighs, stopping her again when she
reached to undo her panties.

"Don't you dare," he said, pushing her
hands away. "No one else touches."

"Not even me?" Buffy laughed.

"Not even you." He took hold of the
ribbons and pulled until they separated,
showing him her most private place.

Lifting the scrap of red fabric to his face,
he took in the scent that lingered on
it, smiling when he felt their dampness.

"Mmm...I'd know that scent anywhere. You
could be in a room with a hundred other women
and I could find you with my eyes closed."

His words brought a fresh rush of moisture be-
tween her legs. The thought of him doing that,
of picking up her scent and hunting her down,
ignoring any other woman who approached him,
snarling at any man who stood in his way, was
incredibly erotic. It reminded her that, beyond
the trappings of humanity and restraints of
civilization, they were still animals with primitive
instincts.

Buffy's eyes opened wide when she felt his
hands on her knees, urging her to part them
wider for him.

His mouth followed the trail of his fingers
as they mapped familiar territory up her
inner thighs, until he reached the neatly
trimmed curls that guarded the entrance to
his little piece of heaven.

As he kissed and nuzzled her, he reached
for her hand and held it tightly, their fingers
lacing together.

When she let out a soft cry and lifted her
hips, he sat up, bringing her hand down to
his steel hard erection. She wrapped her
little fingers around him and squeezed, smooth-
ing with her thumb the drop of semen that
leaked out.

With a harsh grunt, he pushed her hand away
and crouched between her thighs.

"I've gotta be in you now, baby," he rasped. "Can't
wait...gotta feel you take me in...hold me tight...tell
me I'm home..."

Her eyes were soft with emotion. "Come inside,
love," she said, holding out her arms. "You're
home...you finally came home."

Spike fell into her embrace, stretching his body
out on top of hers, supporting his weight on
his forearms. He found her mouth with his,
plundering it with his tongue, as he moved one
hand down between them and positioned himself
for penetration.

Her heat and wetness nearly undid him, but he
managed to retain control and began to push
forward with his hips, easing in a little at a time.

Buffy tried not to flinch. Her body had done all
it could to ready itself for his invasion of it, but
it had still been over a year, and she felt almost
virginally tight.

A fact which her lover was enjoying immensely.

"Buffy...oh, yes...so tight...so sweet...ah, my
little girl...such a little girl..."

Gradually, her body adjusted, allowing her
to relax as he began to thrust, slowly at
first, then faster...harder...until they were both
mindlessly caught up in the rythmn of love
and lust.

It didn't last...it couldn't. They had been too long
apart. Later, there would time to take it slow,
to linger over it.

"Baby..." Spike said, "open your eyes...that's
my girl...keep them open, look at me...when
you come..."

"Spike..." she whined. "Oh...I...I need to..."

"I know what you need, baby," he said, staring
into her grass green eyes. "I'm gonna help you
do it...are you close...oh, yeah, you are...I
can tell...do it for me, baby...come hard...scream
my name...tell the world that I'm making you
come...now, baby...now...."

Planting her feet flat on the bed, Buffy raised her
hips one final time....and screamed his name...

TBC...
Comments

My Boyfriend's Back

Part 4



"Are you all right, baby face?"

"Mm-hmm."

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No."

"Yes, I did."

Buffy opened her eyes and looked up
at him. "Just a little at first...cause
it's been so long."

Spike sighed. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

She snuggled closer. "S'all right," she
assured him, smiling sweetly. "I'm fine."

He threaded his fingers into her hair. "Some-
times I forget what a little thing you are."

Buffy's smile turned sassy. "Not to mention
what a 'big' thing YOU are."

"That's my clever girl." He laughed and
gave her a squeeze. "God, I missed you."

She was silent for a long moment, then
said, "Does that mean you're going to
stay with me?"

"Sweetheart," He hesitated a moment. "I
want to..."

Buffy immediately shook her head and
moved away from him, not wanting to
hear what she feared was about to come
out of his mouth.

"Never mind," she said quickly, swinging
her legs out of bed.

Spike grabbed her hand. "Where are you
going?"

"I have to put the phone back on the hook,"
she explained, locating her robe and slip-
ping it on. "In case my mother calls."

"Where is she?"

"She's visiting some friends in New York."

Without another word, she turned and left
the room.

Spike settled back against the pillows and
waited, a slight smile tugging at the corners
of his mouth.

After several minutes went by without her
returning, he climbed out of bed and pulled on
his trousers, leaving them unfastened.

He found her in the kitchen, staring
out the window, holding a glass of
milk in her hand.

She turned when he came in. "Want some?"
she offered, holding out the glass.

"No, thanks," he answered, crossing the
room at a leisurely pace. "You drink it all
up, baby. I want my girl healthy and happy."

Buffy shrugged. "Uh-huh," she muttered
under her breath.

Ignoring her belligerant tone, Spike leaned
back against the counter, then kissed her
cheek. "The milk will help keep you healthy,
and I'll keep you happy," he said, flashing
a grin that could only be described as lech-
erous.

She drained the glass, then stared at him
in utter silence.

Spike trailed one finger across her upper
lip, cleaning off the milk that was clinging
to it.

"You'll keep me happy?" she asked, reaching
for a napkin and wiping her face. "Well, for
as long as you're HERE anyway."

"Buffy..."

"Hey, it's all right," she interrupted. "I under-
stand. You gotta be free. A vampire can't
tie himself down, especially with a slayer. I
mean...how would it look?"

Spike frowned "How would it LOOK?"

Buffy rinsed the glass and left it on
the counter, then turned to meet his
eyes.

"Listen, you don't need to worry
about me," she informed him. "I'll
see you whenever you decide to breeze
through town and in the meantime...well,
I'm sure Parker will call again."

It was of the worst things she could have
said, but it was out of her mouth now,
and she couldn't call it back

Spike's eyes darkened ominously. "You
know if I thought for one second that you
really meant that...I'd kill him." He smiled
dangerously. "Surely you don't want to be
responsible for the boy's death?"

Buffy held his gaze boldly for a moment,
then glanced away. "No. No, I don't."

"That's my good little girl," he said, pinch-
her cheek. "Now, tell me...do you like
diamonds?"

His question was so out of the blue that
Buffy wasn't sure she had heard him
properly. "Excuse me?"

"Diamonds," he said again. "Do you like
them?"

"Well...I guess I...I mean...everybody
likes...huh?"

Spike pulled a small black velvet bag from
his front pocket, opened it, and extracted
a ring...a thin gold band with channel set
diamonds all the way around.

"I wasn't sure if you did," he mused, taking
her left hand and sliding the ring onto her
third finger.

Buffy stared at it. "What's THAT?"

"It's called a ring, darling. Now, some girls,"
he said, reaching back into the bag, "prefer
sapphires."

He placed another ring on her finger, this
one banded with deep blue gems.

"And some girls prefer rubies." He added
another ring. "While some fancy emeralds."

After placing the last ring on her finger, he
kissed her hand. "I wasn't sure what you'd
like best, so I bought all of them."

Buffy kept her eyes on the stack of rings
nestled on her finger. The stones glittered
in the overhead light, making rainbow
prisms dance.

Spike grinned. "Now, aren't you sorry
you said all those mean things?"

She finally found her voice, and looked
up at him. "But...why?"

"I told you, babyface...you belong to me
and I want every man you meet to know
that you're taken."

"Oh." she replied lamely.

"What's wrong? Don't you like them?"

"Uh...yes! " she nodded vigorously. "Yes,
of course I like them...they're beautiful,
but...what do they mean?"

"What does it usually mean when a man
puts a ring on a woman's finger?"

Buffy wasn't convinced. "I know what it
USUALLY means. I just don't know what
YOU mean."

Spike wrapped his arms around her waist
from behind. "All right, I'll try and keep
this simple. I'M back...and YOU are going
to marry me." He shrugged. "That's
about it."

Just when she'd thought she couldn't
be more surprised. "You're asking me
if I'll MARRY you?!!"

"No, I'm TELLING you that you'll marry
me."

Buffy looked at the rings, then at him. "Have
you been drinking?" she asked suspiciously.

"Not a drop," he assured her. "I'm com-
pletely sober and sound of mind." He
grinned impishly. "Well...as sound as I ever
am."

"Yeah, I'm sure."

Spike overlooked her doubtful tone. "You
choose a date...make it soon...and I'll
make all the arrangements," he said. "I
know that it won't be strictly legal in your
world, but it WILL be binding...and perma-
nent."

He turned her in his arms, and cupped her
chin in one hand, lifting her face so she
could see he was serious.

"This is it for you, babyface. From now on,
it's you and me...and God help ANYONE who
tries to come between us."

As his words began to sink in, Buffy began
to smile.

He wanted to marry her. To commit himself
in a way he'd not done with anyone else. Even
Drusilla, his lover for more than a century, hadn't
gone through any form of marriage with him.

Buffy despised Drusilla. Even leaving out the
fact that she was a slayer and Drusilla was a
vampire, she harbored an intense personal
dislike for Spike's ex as well, though it had
taken her some time to pinpoint the problem.

At one time, she'd believed that the reason lay
in the fact that Angel returned to Drusilla after
he'd lost his soul.

But when she forced herself to be brutally
honest, she couldn't really claim simple
jealously since her antipathy for the female
vampire had started long before the return
of Angelus.

It wasn't until Angel had left town, and Spike
showed up without his 'Queen of the Damned
crazies' trailing along behind him, that Buffy
begun to get a clear fix on why she hated
Drusilla so venomously.

Her feelings had nothing to do with Angel...and
everything to do with Spike.

The day he'd arrived back in Sunnydale he had
come looking for her, explaining what had
occured between him and Dru in South America.

He'd then begun an aggressive campaign of
pursuit, not caring that she was a slayer,
his mortal enemy.

In a surprisngly short period of time, Spike
had dismantled every one of her defenses.

Brick by brick, he pulled down the wall be-
tween them, forcing her to admit to the
physical attraction that had started on the
night they'd clapped eyes on each other
for the first time.

From there it had been one short step into
his bed.

At that point, after becoming his lover,
Buffy's dislike of Drusilla had blossomed
into full blown jealous hatred.

She'd made herself a promise that if Dru
was ever crazy enough to return to Sunny-
dale...which was a pretty safe bet...she'd
be dust before the sun went down.

An uneasy mixture of envy and uncertainty
dogged the early days of her relationship
with Spike.

Envy of Drusilla's natural seductiveness,
something she could turn on and off like a
faucet, of her experience, and of the kind
of talent in bed that had kept Spike's
interest for so long.

That...coupled with her lack of confidence
in her own practically virginal charms...had
worried her for a short time.

It had pleased her to no end, and improved
her outlook immensely, when she discovered
that Spike hated Angel just as bitterly as Buffy
hated Drusilla.

He hadn't been shy about telling her that his
animosity hadn't been rooted in the complex
dynamic that the three vampires had shared,
but in the simple fact that he despised the
idea of Angel even TOUCHING Buffy...let
alone taking her virginity.

She knew that Spike would be perfectly
willing and pleased to put an end to Angel
in the most painful way he could devise,
vampire code of ethics be damned.

He'd warned her repeatedly to make sure
that Angel stayed as far away from Sunny-
dale...and from Buffy...as he could go.

Determined to expunge any trace of her
first lover from her mind and heart, Spike
had gone so far as to take the silver clad-
dagh ring that Angel had given her. Driving
her to the beach, he'd made her watch as he
flung the ring into the sea.

In her head, Buffy had known that his
possesiveness should have alarmed her,
but it hadn't. She'd never experienced such
heated behavior from a male before, and it
had excited...and aroused her.

Angel had loved her...and made love to
her...gently. His love was tender, calm
and protective.

Spike's love, although just as protective, was
reckless and wild, and something primitively
female in her responded to it with a wildness
of her own.

He had never hurt her, but he was a strong
and demanding lover who thought nothing of
approaching her any time of the day or night,
picking her up in his arms, and carrying her
off to bed.

Knowing that she provoked such powerful
feelings in him made her blood run hot. Stand-
ing beneath the black velvet sky that night,
watching the muscle of his bicep work as he
clenched his fist around Angel's ring, had
called forth her need for what he could do
to her.

They'd ended the evening by making urgent
love at the end of the pier.

Time had done nothing to dull their jealousy
for each other. If anything, it got sharper.

Fearing their reactions, Buffy had asked
her lover to keep their relationship private,
a secret from her friends.

Spike had shrugged his shoulders and gone
along with it, not caring whether they knew
or not.

His laissez-faire attitude had continued until Buffy's
friends began trying to fix her up with other
men in a search for boyfriend material.

THAT had put the brakes on his indifference,
bringing it to a screeching halt.

He had then forced her to inform everyone of
her non-available status, telling her that
if SHE didn't, then HE most definitely would,
and he wouldn't be particularly delicate about it,
either.

Although they'd been horrified at first,
they had respected her decision as she'd
explained that in matters of the heart, she
had to follow her own happiness.

Seeing that nothing they could say would
change her mind, they had accepted the
situation as well as they could, and had
been kind enough not to say "I told you so"
when the predicted blow up occured.

**What are they gonna say about THIS?**

"What are you thinking about, baby?"

Spike's voice brought Buffy back
from her reflective state.

She smiled slowly. "Is this real?"

He smiled back. "This is as real as it
gets, sweetness," he said, bending to
kiss her.

Buffy needed more, and she ducked away.

"You'll stay with me?" she asked. "Even
though I'm the slayer? No matter what
your vampire pals think?"

"Since when do I care about someone else's
opinions?"

She gave him a look. "You cared about it
a year ago."

Spike had the grace to look slightly guilty.

"That's one for you, luv," he said, acknowled-
ging the truth of her words.

Putting an end to the conversation, he picked
her up and slung her over his shoulder.

"Right, then," He gave her a light swat on
the rear. "I suppose you want a big wedding,
don't you? All the trimmings?"

Laughing, Buffy placed her hands on his back
and lifted herself up a bit. "Those are really
expensive."

"Not to worry," he said, carrying her out of the
kitchen. "Money's not a problem."

"How come?"

"I'll explain it to you later," he promised,
climbing the stairs. "Right now...I've got
something else in mind."

"Big surprise."

Spike tossed her on the bed, discarding
his pants. "Brace yourself," he warned
her. "This is gonna be a rough ride."

She grinned as he crawled up her body.

"I'm the slayer...and I can take the rough-
est ride you've got," she said, wrapping her
arms around his neck.

He paused. "In case I haven't said it yet..
I love you."

"Don't just tell me...show me!"

***** ***** ***** *****

The next morning...

Willow unlocked the door to the Magic Box,
wishing once again that Giles would have
enough of the warm weather in Mexico and
come home to mind his own store.

Anya hated getting up early, and refused
to show up until 9:00 on the dot.

Sipping a cup of coffee she'd picked
up at Starbucks, she noticed the red
light of the answering machine flickering,
and thumbed the 'play' button.

"Hi, Wil...it's me...I 'm just calling to let
you know that everything's fine. Ac-
tually it's more than fine. You ready?
I'M ENGAGED!! He came back to marry
me! Wait until you see my ring! I mean
my rings! Call me later, okay, but...don't
scold me cause I'm so happy and I
want everyone else to be happy, too.
Um...gotta go now, so we'll talk later."

Willow listened, smiling at Buffy's effer-
vescent babbling, then reached for the
phone.

"Anya, it's Willow...I know you're not
coming until 9:00...Is Xander around
anywhere?...Good morning...are you
sitting down?...Yeah, you probably
should...Try to contain your enthusiasm,
but Spike is back...Last night...He
came to the shop and then went to
find Buffy...It doesn't matter anymore..Be-
cause things have changed...They're
getting married and...What was that
noise?...Xander?...Are you still...Yeah,
I'M here...What happened to...Oh, for
crying out loud...Well, dump some
cold water on him and wake him up..I'm
coming over and I'll explain it when I
get there...."

The End


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