Halloween Trick or Freak
By Bloodshedbaby
Will be NC-17, PG-13 to R for this part.
This was written for Sadbhyl, and the requirements were: Spuffy (obviously, since it's a spuffy ficathon) and
 
Up to two other characters (besides Spike & Buffy) - optional: Ethan, Joyce
1-3 Requirements: S2, heavy UST
1-3 Restrictions: No angst, no slash
 
So I bring you.... this! :)  Takes place during season 2's Halloween episode, and uh... yeah. Many thanks to the beta-age of Spikeskat!! Thank you! You helped my Elizabeth soo much!!
Part 1
   
    "Well! This is just... neat!" Spike exclaimed, looking around at the chaos erupting  on the crowded the streets.  Deciding his game face wasn't enough of a costume to suit his present mood, he dipped his hand in the pocket of his duster and pulled out the item he had nicked earlier from the costume shop.
 
    Tossing the plastic packaging carelessly to the ground, he pinned the metal star to the front of his leather coat. Satisfied, Spike resumed his casual stroll down the street.
++++++++
    Elizabeth looked around in a horrified daze, her urge to swoon nearly overwhelming. She was a gently reared young woman and the situation she had found herself thrust into was too much for her delicate constitution; the whole thing was most improper.  Her breath hitched on a sharp gasp, and she once again gave serious thought to swooning. Surely that was a more ladylike action than screaming as she was wont to do at the peculiar scenario playing out before her eyes. 
 
    She ran into an alley, certain she had managed to escape that wretched thing from the obscure little cottage she had been led to.  Picking up her skirts, she turned to make her way purposefully through the alley, when a filthy man with perfectly dreadful teeth suddenly accosted  her. It was a pirate.  Elizabeth had heard of such men and knew that not a lot of good came from them.  They were scoundrels and pillagers of the worst sort, the whole lot of them.
 
    The man grinned evilly, and slurred, "pretty, pretty, pretty." 
 
    The air thickened with an odor so foul, Elizabeth nearly gagged, the stench overwhelming her refined senses.  Too late, she realized the man was advancing on her, in complete disregard of propriety.  A tendril of fear shot through her, as she took note of his improper advancement on her person, his eyes filled with something she couldn't even begin to put a name to.
 
    When he reached out for her, the situation took on a more sinister note, and Elizabeth shrunk back with terror. Spinning, she picked up her skirts in an attempt to flee, when his dirty, beefy hand  suddenly clamped around her pristine wrist. She was forcefully wrenched around, and the crude man thrust his face into hers, his cracked lips searching for hers.
 
    Elizabeth felt her first real stirrings of panic, hurtling beyond anything ever felt before. She was about to violated, and while the intimate details of such an act remained elusive, she knew enough to fear it happening this way.   She could smell the overwhelming stench of his breath, the feel of his rough cracked lips, as they ground painfully against her own delicate ones, and felt a small piece of her slipping away, much as if the horrid events were happening to someone else.
 
    Suddenly, a sharp click broke through his grunting symphony, and Elizabeth felt the hands that had begun to roughly seek her fleshy wealth beneath the voluminous fabric of her dress, cease their unwanted caress.
 
    "It 'pears to me like you need to pull in them horns there, pardner," a low, rough voice drawled with deliberate assuredness.  To Elizabeth, the western drawled voice was that of an angel. "So, why don't you just back on off and leave the li'l lady be." 
 
    The hands that had been holding her hostage, quickly fell away. Elizabeth wasted no time in putting distance between this brute and herself, looking down with immediate dismay at the disheveled fate her gown had suffered.
 
    Quickly forgetting that she had almost been compromised, Elizabeth jerked her head up to give her beastly tormenter a small piece of her mind, when she was suddenly ensnared in web of shock. Her eyes met those of her rescuer, and sunk into the bluest eyes she'd ever laid claim to. She felt a swoon come on, for certain this time.
 
    With a studied casualness, she watched as the newcomer brought the barrel of his gun to touch the brim of his hat, tipping it back off his face, while giving her a slow, lazy, nod. His eyes seemed to sparkle with shimmering appreciation as he regarded her.  She found her own lips curling into a small smile, wishing suddenly for the fan she usually carried at all times.
 
    Sensing their distraction, the man who had assaulted her decided to try his luck at escape, turning quickly to dart away.
 
    Before he could take more than two steps, the newcomer had the previously  re-holstered pistol out and Elizabeth watched as it danced in his hands, before the fine ivory handle finally struck a blow at the base of the fleeing man's head. Elizabeth watched, mesmerized, as the evil man  crumpled to the ground, rendered completely unconscious.
 
    It had happened so fast, Elizabeth was sure she was standing there, mouth agape, simply staring.  Ladies do not stare, echoed through her head, and  she brought herself to quick attention to find her savior smiling with surprising  familiarity in her direction. 
 
    "Kind sir, I would like to thank you for your... assistance," She began primly, her hands itching for the familiar curve of her fan and parasol.   Elizabeth found her eyes darting around nervously, once more taking in the unfamiliar buildings and surroundings.
 
    "Much obliged, ma'am, glad to be of assistance," the man drawled, tipping his hat once more  in a mocking gesture of gentlemanly courtesy.  He also cast a slow leisurely glance around, a frown settling over the full lips that had, just moments before, been full of amusement. "Wouldn't happen to know where in tarnations we was, would ya?"
 
    Elizabeth's face briefly showed her surprise, before she quickly schooled her features into an expected mask of forbearance, one that she detested. "No, sir, I fear I am not in possession of such knowledge."
 
    He cocked his head to stare at her, wondering the reason for the tempered emotions.  "So, what's your name, pretty little filly?"
 
    Her eyes reflected her confusion before she finally figured out his strange manner of speech.  "Are you requesting an introduction?"
 
    A laugh escaped, rich and throaty, an entirely too pleasing sound for her peace of mind. Elizabeth could feel her cheeks heat and knew her face was painted a bright scarlet under his close scrutiny. "Well, bust my gravy.  Yeah, I think I am requesting an introoo-duction," came the drawn out reply.
 
    Elizabeth drew herself up, splotches of anger adding themselves to the shade of mortification that colored her cheeks.  "You, sir, have deplorable manners.  But since you have dispatched the only person I have ever met with even more deplorable manners than yourself, I will overlook your rudeness.  My name is Elizabeth Anne Montgomery," she revealed in her most haughty tone, the one she had long before perfected to drive unwanted suitors away.
 
    This time, the hat came off and was clutched to his chest, as the man bowed slightly in front of her, the mocking grin still in place. "A pleasure, ma'am.  The name's Willie.   Wallopin' Willie, to some. Sheriff of this here town." The infuriating man slapped his hat back on his head while looking around, a confused look replacing his smug, superior one. "Well, not this one, I don't reckon.  Where did you say we wuz again?"
 
    "I didn't," Elizabeth retorted, trying to crush down the temper that always served to be her downfall. Meek and obedient she was not, much to her family's chagrin.  "I..." Whatever she was about to say was interrupted by the sound of a name being called from beyond the alley. "BUFFY!!" 
 
    Suddenly fear slammed back into her, and she found herself clutching  Willie's arm, his well-worn western duster soft and pliant beneath her tight grip. Just as the arm that lay beneath was hard and muscular.  "Oh, sir, you must help me." She gestured to the entrance of the alley.  "Please," she sobbed, mortified that she was so overcome by fright. "You have no idea the extent of their madness. I fear for my very life!"
 
     Willie drew himself up, enjoying the feel of this damsel's warmness pressed against him. Keeping the peace was his job, and one that he took very seriously.  He may not know where he was, but danged if he was going to go all slack happy now, and abandon his post.
 
      With a encouraging nod, he tipped the brim of his hat at her once more, and then was striding down the alley, his steps sure and deliberate.
 
    Angel heard it first, the slow clank of metal sounding from the alley ahead of them. It sounded like... spurs?  Then he hit upon a scent. Buffy, and he allowed himself to relax a fraction. Another scent drifted into his awareness, and his forehead furrowed in confusion. It was familiar, yet not. Much like Buffy's scent had been altered. 
 
    A lone figure stepped out of the shadowed alley into the full glare of the street lights.  "Howdy, folks."
 
    Cordelia exchanged looks with Angel, as recognition dawned on them both.  "Oh great. Now we've got Frontier Man," Cordelia announced derisively, crossing her arms across her chest.
 
    Angel's worry peaked when he recognized Spike, smelling Buffy's presence close by. This did not bode well, and was, quite frankly, his worst fear.  As she was now, Buffy was completely at the mercy of whichever vampire was lucky enough to cross her path, and Spike figured heavily into his concern. 
 
    Suddenly, Xander burst forward, his Uzi held threateningly in his capable hands. "Halt! Who goes there? Identify yourself."
 
    In the blink of an eye, a pair of ivory handled pistols appeared in Spike's  hands, pointed in Xander's direction. Both men attempted to stare the other down, eyes unblinking.  "Think you'd be wise to holster that pistol of yours, pardner. Don't think you want me running your worthless hide in, now do ya?"  Willie asked menacingly.
 
    "Request denied," Xander barked, stepping forward.
 
    Angel grabbed at his arm, earning a hostile glare.  "He's a vampire," Angel warned.  "Your bullets won't do much good. I'll take care of this."  Soldier Xander gave a curt nod, and backed up a step, keeping his back rigid and prepared.
 
    "Spike, what did you do with Buffy?" Angel asked, attempting to use his familial bond to control the vampire, finding himself unable to establish a link.
 
    "Well now, not sure who this Buffy person is, or this Spike," came the reply, the twin pistols now trained on the dark-haired vamp.
 
    "Duh! You're Spike," Cordelia answered. "What is wrong with you people? Did everybody eat like a dipshit sandwich for breakfast?"
 
    "The name's Willie. Wallopin' Willie Lyndon. I'm the long arm of the law around these parts."  Steely eyes bored into the group in front of him, all forced to bear witness that Spike was not in the drivers seat here.  If the western accent hadn't clued them in, the authentic dusty boots, dark jeans, and shirt would have given it away. His typical leather duster had been replaced by a western coat, and a black Stetson was perched rakishly on his head, effectively covering the platinum hair.  Angel knew that Spike wouldn't be caught dead in this outfit, briefly wondering why he'd received the full getup when the other's had just obtained pieces of the costumes they had borne. 
 
    "Sp- I mean, Willie. Where's... Elizabeth?" Angel asked.
 
     Willie's eyes narrowed with suspicion, gauging this man in front of him. "The little lady is under my protection now," he stated in a tone that offered no rebuke.
 
    Angel sighed heavily, tipping his face to the stars. 'Why me?' he thought briefly. 
 
    "And unless you want a little lead in your hide, I suggest y'all just skedaddle," Willie continued.
 
    Elizabeth heard Willie's words, and a strange sensation rushed through her at the timbre of his voice.  Feeling her confidence returning to her, she decided to face her fear, rather than run off like she had earlier.  She cringed at the pathetic weak creature she had presented before, letting the docile weak female take over, while she had fought against that stereotype for years. 
 
    Now determined, she stepped out of the alley, keeping her chin up in defiance. She made sure to halt right behind her savior, rather than at his side. She wasn't that rebellious.
 
    Angel caught the spark of fire now present in Buffy's eyes, desperate to learn if the love of his life had returned to him. "Buffy?" He asked cautiously.
 
    Tossing her hair back, Elizabeth bit out primly, "As I have informed you on several occasions, vampire, my name is Elizabeth."
 
    Willie sent a curious look over his shoulder. "Vampire?"
 
    "I... uh... think that is what he is.  I believe he is quite dangerous, and we would all be wise to be on our guard," Buffy replied with less certainty.
 
    Willie nodded thoughtfully, bringing up one six shooter to a more lethal position. 
 
    "God, why do I ever get mixed up with you people?" Cordelia ranted.  "Did you, like, sprinkle stupidity on your cornflakes or something?  You're a vampire too, you gun-toting idiot."
 
    "Well, if that don't beat all," Willie replied with a wide amused grin.  "Me, a vampire."  He looked behind at Elizabeth. "You sure as shootin' wasn't lying about the madness. This gang is hang dog crazy."
 
    A small chord of recognition struck Elizabeth suddenly, only to be gone the next second, while she continued to watch the confrontation. She nodded in agreement, shooting them a haughty glare. "Yes, quite.  I fear they must have escaped from an institution."
 
    "We're crazy?" Cordelia asked, aghast. When she opened her mouth to continue her tirade, Angel cut her off with the wave of a hand.
 
    "We've got to get her away from him," Angel announced quietly.
 
    "Duh!"
 
    Willow chose that moment to walk through the building they were standing in front, a sly grin on her face. "This is so cool!!" she exclaimed excitedly, trying to decide who she could go scare next. 
 
    "Jumpin' josephat!" Willie exclaimed, training his sharp six-shooter on the scantily clad newcomer.
 
    Elizabeth stood up on tips of her toes and whispered in his ear, "It's one of them. I believe I informed you something was amiss."
 
    Willow did a double take when she saw who Elizabeth was huddled behind. "Spike??!!"
 
    A familiar cocky grin flashed. "Aww shucks, don't know about that..." Suddenly remembering ladies were present, Willie wisely didn't finish that statement.
 
    Willow looked over the others, confusion filling her face.  
 
     "Do I have permission to terminate the enemy?" Soldier Xander barked suddenly, causing more than one jolt of surprise.
 
    "No!  There will be no terminating... of any kind!" Willow exclaimed.
 
    "You have no authority to give orders, ma'am."
 
    Willow rounded on Soldier Xander, prepared to once again bring him over to her way of thinking, with Angel and Cordelia adding their comments.  They didn't realize that the intended targets had slipped away into the night, and Cordelia had no hesitation in letting Angel know exactly what she thought of his skills as a stalker.
 
    Unfortunately for them, Willie's skills at hiding their trail were flawless, even in these modern times he found himself in.  There was a niggling at the back of his skull, something that found all of this familiar, but he worked desperately to push it away.
 
    Willie even found Elizabeth familiar at times. Especially when she would flash her green eyes at him, and give him a few lashes of her tongue. 'Wouldn't mind her tongue lashing somethin' else," rose unbidden to his forethoughts, causing him to harden painfully in his jeans.  He was forced to throw his pelvis forward to relieve a bit of the pressure, as they walked down a strangely paved road.
 
    "Do you always walk in such an obscene manner?" Elizabeth asked disdainfully, noticing the exaggerated swagger of the man next to her. Much to her dismay, she found her gaze drawn to the muscles that were being prominently displayed beneath the western duster.  Mortification overtook her as she realized that she liked what she saw.
 
    The infuriating man refused to give her the common courtesy of an answer.  Rather began to grin like a mad man, causing Elizabeth to blush a stunning crimson.
 
    Willie could hear her heart rate escalate, and could only guess the reason for it. Then a thought struck him. How in tarnation could he hear her heart beating?
 
    Before he could give that thought any more consideration, a scream sounded through the air, bringing him to full attention.
 
    "Oh good heavens! I do believe someone is in need of assistance!" Elizabeth cried, her eyes searching the deserted street.  "Oh, I do hope there is a constable around."
 
    "There is," Willie announced, striding purposefully in the direction the scream had come from.
 
    "Sir, I beg your delay on this matter." She picked up her skirts and gave chase. "I am in need of your protection!"
 
    He turned so suddenly, that Elizabeth was unable to keep herself from running into his chest. A firm chest, she realized fleetingly, as her hands splayed out against it.  They regarded each other intently, eyes burning into the other, both feeling something trying to crawl its way out of their memories.
 
    "I... I... I don't think I like you," Elizabeth breathed, unable to tear her gaze away, focused keenly on his full lips.
 
    Strong hands gripped her waist. "And I sure as shootin' don't think I like you either," Willie growled. "But... I know I want to do this." Without hesitation, he dipped his head down and captured her lips in a searing kiss, one that was so unlike her first and only kiss just moments before.
 
    Heat sizzled through Elizabeth, forbidden heat in forbidden places, as she found her arms snaking up and wrapping themselves around Willie's neck, almost of their own accord.  She felt his arms slip around her waist, and she was drawn impossibly close. Even through the yards of fabric, she could feel the hardness of his body. 
   
    This was wrong. She shouldn't be doing this, she knew it, but the sensations snaking their way through her body made it impossible to stop.  Elizabeth wanted more.  For once, she understood the urges of women that had only been whispered about behind her back. Understood it, and wanted it.  She didn't know why it was him, this... westerner, but he made her burn in a way she never thought possible.
 
    A small moan escaped her mouth, and she felt his beautiful lips leave hers to trail a cool path along her jaw down to her neck. New sensations hit her, the least of which the coolness of his skin, and her head tipped back to give those lips more skin to work with.  All sense of propriety had left her, and she found herself not bothered by it, in the least.
 
    Suddenly, she felt a sharp prick replace the loving sensation of Willie's lips, and she stiffened in his embrace. She heard a moan of ecstasy released, and his hips ground against her with a heightened frenzy.  Suddenly, she felt a pulling sensation where his mouth was attached to her neck, and she gasped, almost frightened by the sudden surge of desire that flooded her.
 
    Abruptly, she pushed Willie away in blind panic, gasping in shock at what greeted her when he fell to the ground.  Confused yellow eyes peered up at her, blood dripping from teeth that were much too long to be normal. Willie was like the other one. Angel.  Elizabeth slapped her hand to the gaping wounds on her neck, her breath coming in faster, as panic began to ensue. 
 
    "Well, if that just don't beat all," Willie announced in a perplexed tone. He jumped up to his feet, using his index finger to clean the remaining blood dribbling down his chin, before sucking it off his finger.  "You're kinda tasty," he added as an afterthought.
 
    Elizabeth shrunk back in terror, shuddering when the yellow eyes changed back to the blue she had been so mesmerized with all evening.  "You, sir, are a... a...
 
    His baffled expression turned concerned when he saw Elizabeth's pending flight. "Hey now, little filly. Ain't gonna hurt a hair on that purty little head of yours.  Just took me by surprise, is all."
 
    He looked so sincere, that Elizabeth halted her escape and let him walk up to her. With everything that had happened this evening, her gut instinct seemed to be homing in on this particular man, and she wanted to trust that it knew what it was talking about.
 
    "I will thank you to keep your teeth to yourself in the future, Sheriff," Elizabeth ordered boldly, tipping her chin up to meet his eyes.  She could practically feel the imprints of his hands on her, and suddenly had very improper thoughts.
 
    A pleased smile slid across the angular handsome face. "Does that mean I gets me another kiss?"
 
    Again, Elizabeth's pulse rate jumped at his question, and she didn't dare think, just gave in to what her emotions were telling her. Because if she thought about it, she would be pulled back into the utter impropriety of the situation. Leaning towards him in anticipation, she offered him her lips...
 
    Her eyes had just fluttered shut when there was a visible shift in the air. With a strangled gasp, all traces of Elizabeth were flung into the past, and Buffy was brought forward, finding a pair of hard lips pressed against her own. Her spider sense was tingling with a raging fury, and she jumped back in shock.
 
    Her eyes met those of her mortal enemy, who appeared every bit as confused as she herself was. "S-spike?"
 
    "Slayer?" he ground out, taking a cursory look around at his surroundings. "What in the bloody fuck just happened here?"
TBC...  HALLOWEEN TRICK OR FREAK
BY BLOODSHEDBABY
NOT YET SURE ABOUT THE RATING, HAVEN'T GOTTEN THERE YET! EITHER R OR NC-17
This was written for Sadbhyl, and the requirements were: Spuffy (obviously, since it's a spuffy ficathon) and
 
Up to two other characters (besides Spike & Buffy) - optional: Ethan, Joyce
1-3 Requirements: S2, heavy UST
1-3 Restrictions: No angst, no slash
 
PART 2
Her eyes met those of her mortal enemy, who appeared every bit as confused as she herself was. "S-spike?"
 
    "Slayer?" he ground out, taking a cursory look around at his surroundings. "What in the bloody fuck just happened here?"
 
   Buffy shook her head slowly, as the disturbing recollection of the previous events began slowly filtering through her brain. She looked down at her gown, then reached one hand up and ripped the wig off her head in disgust, letting her blonde locks free to tumble over her shoulders.
 
    "Hey," Spike protested, "that wasn't a bloody wig earlier." 
 
    "Wow, aren't you the total keen observer." Dealing with some major wiggins, Buffy looked around once more, trying to piece together exactly what had occurred. She noticed the shiny tin star on the breast pocket of Spike's leather duster, and couldn't help the snort that escaped as certain images struck her. Her traitorous eyes, however, had something else they wanted to check out, and her gaze was involuntarily drawn to the crotch of his tight black jeans. The large bulge still remained, and she found herself riveted.  'Oh god, she had felt that against her. That was there because of her!' she thought with increasing  panic. She was seriously freaked now.
 
    Feeling a bit spooked himself, Spike followed her gaze, and found his erection becoming even more strained  under her unwavering  stare.  Without thought, he took a step in her direction, intent on feeling her against him once more.
 
    Buffy snapped out of her daze, her eyes flying to his face as her slayer sense kicked in.  But it wasn't the evil intent that she expected to see in his eyes, it was a convoluted desire.  Unbidden, her pulse skyrocketed, and she couldn't admit it being from fear.
 
    Mortified, Buffy managed to throw him an icy look, and fled into the night.  The fact that her mortal enemy did not give chase was was not surprising. and she refused to consider the significance.
   
    Later that night as she lay curled in her bed, finally alone after dodging a million questions, confusion ran rampant in her brain.  Because she could now remember everything. Stupid Ethan Rayne and his idiotic spells. She was so going to kick his ass the next time she saw him.
 
++++++++++++
 
    Buffy knew it should bother her watching Angel talk to this beautiful woman on the playground below. It was so obvious they knew each other, the body language, the intensity of the words were all enough to clue her into that.  But... she felt nothing.  What was up with that?
 
     While she stood there berating herself for why she felt nothing, her Slayer sense homed in on something behind her. Crap. So not what she needed.  She didn't even bother turning around, just waited until he joined her. 
 
    "Who is she?"
 
    "Drusilla," Spike replied flatly.
 
    Buffy turned her head to look at him, a questioning look in her eyes. 
 
    "She's been my girl for over a century. But as soon as her precious little Angelus shows up, she forgets I bloody exist." 
 
    Buffy nodded, then returned her attention to the couple below them.
 
    "Look, Slayer, about the other night..."
 
    Buffy whipped her head up. "So not talking about that."   No way was she opening herself up to that one. There had been entirely too much thinkage on that topic as it was.
 
    "Fine."  Buffy watched him storm away, biting back the feeling of regret at seeing him leave.  Sighing heavily, she turned around and went to patrol, unaware she had a majorally pissed off vamp on her tail.
 
++++++++++
 
    "Ford, help me stop this...  Please!" Buffy pleaded, her anxiety level rising through the roof.  Stupid Ford. Who named their kid after a car, anyway?
 
    Ford refused to listen to her, and Buffy ran over to the stairs again, Ford at her heels. "People, listen to me!  This is not the mothership, people! This is ugly death come to play!"   She called out.
 
    Much to her dire shock, her words fell on deaf ears. 'Ok, maybe not so much with the ugly' she thought traitorously. Her inattention  proved to be damaging;  Ford managed to sneak up behind her and knocked her ass over backwards down the stairs.  Ouch. Ok, he was at the top of her shit list for that one.  Ford managed to land one more lucky blow while she was attempting to get up, and down she went again.  Oh yeah, he was in for a world of hurt.
 
    Through her pain and anger with a hefty side of embarrassment thrown in, she heard the outside door open, and groaned to herself.  This was so not her night.  Buffy decided to fight as lame as Ford had, and played possum.  She allowed her hair to fan across her half hidden face, and watched as the inner doors opened. Ford totally fell for it, gloating proudly that he had rendered the Slayer unconscious. Riiiiight... as if.
 
    And then, there he was, in all his vampiric glory.  Great. Why did he have to look so good? Wasn't there some cosmic rule that said all vampires had to be butt ugly, and could NEVER ooze sex appeal?  Well, all soulless vampires, anyway.
 
    Spike was determined to do the Slayer in, once and for all.  She had been haunting his thoughts entirely too often for his liking, and they weren't entirely evil musings of hatred, either.   Drusilla had noticed his distraction, and had guessed the reasons for it. Either guessed, or sucked it out of his brain, he could never tell when it came to his Dark Princess.  This was his one chance to prove that he felt nothing for the bitch, that he could drain her drier than the bleedin' Sahara. 
 
    The disbelieving look had Dru had given him had set him right off, and her refusal to join him on his victorious slaying of his third Slayer, bloody well chapped him. So he had gone along with the annoying human git's proposal; the Slayer practically hand delivered for him to do in, and the sod's payment would be immortality. 
 
    But, when he stalked in and the first thing that drew his attention was the crumpled body of HER at the bottom of the stairs, with the gloating retard hovering proudly over her, Spike just saw red. 
 
    With a vicious roar, he bounded down the steps, knocking the boy aside while he knelt at the Slayer's side. Reaching his hand out, he  gently brushed  her hair away from her face.  He smiled with wry amusement when he took note of her tightly creased eyelids,  and her body tense with anticipation. So... the bint was playing hard to get. Unable to help himself, Spike bent down to blow a cool stream of air directly into her ear.
 
    It had the desired effect. Buffy jumped up, eyes wide, and she scooted backwards away from the crouched vampire. The vampire who was sitting there looking at her with a smug, amused, shit eating grin on his face. Asshole. The vampire who was looking way too good, with his hair not quite as slicked back as it usually was. It was kinda... tousled. Oh god, was that cute? Did he have cute hair? 
 
    "Well... If it isn't the fair maiden, all distressed, like."
 
    "Well... If it isn't Wallopin Willie, long arm of the law," Buffy mocked snidely, trying not to notice the devilish glint of his eyes. His nice pretty blue eyes that she seemed to lose herself in every damn time she looked in them. Like now, for instance.
 
    "I'm touched. You remember." Spike stood up suddenly, closing the distance between them.
 
    Buffy scrambled to her feet, trying to ignore the waves of dizziness that accompanied that motion.  Ok, this wasn't good.  She tried not to feel a tad hurt by the fact that Spike had set her up, then smacked herself mentally for feeling betrayed.  Spike was a cold blooded killer, no matter how nice his lips had felt on hers. "Kinda hard to forget something like that," she shot back finally.
 
    Spike's face softened. "Yeah." His attention was drawn to the laceration on her temple. Reaching his hand out, he gently wiped a finger across the rivulets of blood streaming down her face, bringing it into his mouth. "You still taste good though."
 
    Before Buffy could protest, Ford walked up with his self-appreciation on proud display. "Sooo... when do I get my reward?  I got her here for you."
 
    Wow, some friend he was turning out to be, Buffy thought bitterly, dizziness beginning to assault her with even more ferocity.  Oh god, this was so not good. She could see the darkness try to take over at the corners of her vision. 'No!' she cried to herself. 'Don't let me do that swooning thing!'
 
    Disgust filled Spike's face, and he turned to strike the boy down, when he noticed the Slayer beginning to sway on her feet, her face completely devoid of color.  With a frustrated growl, he caught her just as her eyes rolled back, and oblivion claimed her. Fuck. This wasn't part of the bleedin plan, standing there holding the bloody unconscious Slayer, with absolutely no motivation to kill her. 
 
    Turning around swiftly, he lashed out with his foot in frustration, sending a chair flying across the room, where it slammed into the wall and splintered.  The obnoxious boy looked at him with confusion.  "You said you would turn me, if I gave you the Slayer," Ford reminded him, without a hint of fear. There was too much riding on this for fear to enter the picture, he NEEDED to become one of the Immortal Ones.
 
    "I said when I do her in," Spike growled, rudely brushing past the annoying git as he headed for the stairs.
 
    "Well? When is that going to be? Hello! You've got her right there!" Ford called after him, his friends watching in eager anticipation of joining the ranks of the Lonely Ones.
 
    "Fuck if I know," Spike muttered bitterly, taking the stairs two at a time, slamming the door shut behind him.  He stood there in the alley, a battle being raged bitterly in his head. He glanced down at the unconscious form of the soddin' Slayer, vulnerable and absolutely defenseless in his arms, and death was the absolutely last thing he felt like inflicting right now.  His eyes flickered over her petite form, the slight swell of her breasts as her chest rose and fell in time with her breathing, and he tried desperately to fight the waves of affection that rose within him. 
 
    With a angry snarl, he strode off down the alley, not wanting to admit to being concerned by her prolonged unconsciousness.  This was fucked; he knew it, but couldn't quite find it within himself to care very much.
 
    Just as he rounded the corner of the alley, he saw the Slayer's band of merry men coming his way, their expressions anxious and terse. The Poof was leading the way, his brow furrowed and dark.  Their anxiety turned to fear when they saw Spike with Buffy in his evil clutches, her body flailed limply in his arms.
 
    "Spike," Angel ground out, a warning growl rumbling from his chest.
 
    "Oh, sod off, Peaches." Making a decision, Spike stalked over to where his Grande-Sire stood, and threw Buffy into his arms. "She got knocked on the head a bit."  With that, Spike stormed off, head down, with his black duster billowing behind him.
 
    "Is she ok?" Willow asked anxiously, checking Buffy's neck frantically, only finding evidence of Spike's previous mark upon her neck. 
 
    Angel stared after Spike for a moment, then looked down at the girl in his arms.  "Yeah, I can hear her heart beating. She's fine. I think she really was just knocked out."
 
    Xander and Willow exchanged glances. "So... what's with the Bleached Menace doing the Buffy save-age thing?" Xander asked. "I thought we were here to save her from his evil claws."
 
    Angel sighed heavily, not liking the direction of his thoughts.  He just shrugged with feigned  ignorance, and resigned himself to taking Buffy to her Watcher.
 
    An hour later, Buffy lay sleeping in her bed with her mom none the wiser, and Angel asked Giles to join him for a drink while he confronted him with his concerns. 
   
    Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, Giles asked, "So, you're saying that Spike...  just THREW Buffy at you?"
 
    Angel tossed himself down heavily on his couch, and nodded wearily. "Yes, that's what I'm saying."
 
    "And she was unconscious and bleeding in his arms?"
 
    Angel nodded grimly.
 
    "Good lord.  Quite frankly, I don't know what to make of this.  Do you have any ideas?"
 
    A black look flashed across the vampire's face. "Yeah, but I'm not sure that I like them."
 
    Giles looked startled.  "You're... not suggesting that Spike has... feelings for Buffy, are you?"
 
    There was another grim nod, as both men picked up their drinks in unison, and downed them in one quick gulp, before turning to refill their tumblers.  It was going to be one of those nights.
 
++++++++++

 

 
   Halloween Trick or Freak
part 3
Thanks to Spike'sKat for the fabulous beta job! also thanks to Beanmommy, Maidenro, Peta, Jerzeyangel, and anyone else I forgot!!   Babysquid and BlueIrish, this chapter is for you. Well parts of it, anyway!! :p
    Joyce quickly locked the door to the gallery, peering around anxiously.  She usually tried to be home before nightfall, not entirely oblivious to some of the strange happenings that seemed to occur in Sunnydale. She just remained ignorant to the heroic part her daughter played in all of it.
 
    Walking quickly, she reached her Jeep in the vacant parking lot, allowing herself to relax a fraction as she pushed the key into the lock.  With traffic now waning due to the lateness of the hour, she figured she would be home in ten minutes.  'Buffy had better have her homework finished,' she thought fleetingly, just as she opened the driver's side door and prepared to slide in.
 
    Joyce jumped in alarm, then downright panic, when the door was suddenly wrenched from her grasp, and slammed shut. Whirling around, she was faced with a trio of men. 'Not men,' she decided.  These were some of the monsters that had been whispered about, and her life flashed before her eyes as she realized by their sinister grins that they weren't here merely to hitchhike.
 
    "Well, look fellas. We have the Slayer's mom here," one of them announced proudly, bringing a round of chortles and cat calls. "What should we do with her?"
 
    "Let's eat her, and leave her on the Slayer's doorstep to trip over," came the brilliant suggestion.
 
    "Yeah. I kinda like that idea."  They began to close in on Joyce, and she got an up close and personal look at the sharp teeth and protruding foreheads they seemed to all sport. 'Early Cro-Magnon man, perhaps?' she thought in a brief moment of blinding hysteria.
 
    Just as Joyce could feel their tepid breath on her neck, her eyes scrunched tightly shut in fear while she berated herself for lacking the will to fight for her life, they were suddenly... gone.
 
    Joyce's eyes flew open to find a sprinkling of dust settle to the ground where the evil men used to stand.  In a state far beyond mere confusion, she looked blankly at the blonde man holding a sharp, pointed object in his hand.
 
    "Did you just... do something?" Joyce asked haltingly.
 
    He nodded his head in disgust. "Yeah, I did."  Spike turned to storm off, when he noticed the rest of the band of idiots beginning to gather.  They were all young, but they had figured out how to gang together, making them more formidable than Spike felt like dealing with right now.
 
    Shaking his head wryly at what he was about to do, Spike turned around and grabbed the set of keys that were sticking out of car door. "Get in," he ordered, opening the driver's side door and slid in behind the wheel. 
 
   Joyce stood looking at him, her feet seemed glued to the pavement, and Spike roared his impatience. "Look, I think you'll be wanting to be gettin' in right about now. Or you can always take your own chances against that lot."  He gestured behind her towards the rapidly advancing group of vampires.
 
    Joyce spun around, her eyes widening comically at the approaching gang of... whatever they were.  Without a second thought, she hurried around to the passenger door. With a quick flick of her wrist, she had the door open and launched herself inside the vehicle. She had barely gotten the door shut and her seatbelt buckled before the blonde stranger had the SUV in reverse, and gunned the gas pedal, sending them roaring out of the parking lot.
 
    A terse silence filled the car during the short drive, Joyce being too frazzled to attempt any conversation. And quite frankly, she was a bit frightened by her rescuer. He had been alternating between scowling and smacking the steering wheel practically the entire way, and he didn't look like he'd win the award for Sunnydale's most stellar citizen. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the man had some serious issues.
 
    Just as they were pulling into her driveway, Joyce finally came to her senses. "How did you know where I lived?" she demanded, in what she hoped was a threatening tone.
 
    "Listen, if I'd wanted to do ya in, I bloody well would have already," the man bit back in his exaggerated British accent, exiting the Jeep, and tossing her the keys.
 
    Joyce warily kept her eye on him as they walked up the stairs leading to the front door, still feeling the need for her obviously reluctant bodyguard. She slipped her house key into the lock, and opened the door. She looked quizzically over her shoulder at the good-looking stranger, and found him standing just outside her door.
 
     "Gonna invite me in?" His voice seemed to hold a challenging note that Joyce immediately responded to.
 
    "Fine, come in."
 
    A smirk spread across his face, and he casually strolled across the threshold.  Spike had taken his chances and dared her like he would've her daughter. Apparently, they were both cut from the same cloth.
 
    "Mom?" a voice called, as footsteps pounded down the hallway upstairs.
 
    Spike waited with anticipation as the Slayer flew down the stairs in her usual youthful exuberance, his smirk broadening into a full fledged grin. 
 
    A quick intake of breath alerted him that his presence had been duly noted, as she glared at him from the middle of the stairs. "Well, well. If it isn't my favorite damsel, in the very flesh," Spike drawled, eyeing her revealing top and tight jeans appreciatively.
 
    "And wow, look at that. It's wee Willie."
 
    "That's Wallopin' Willie to you, Slayer," Spike practically snarled, his temper immediately piqued as only she could manage to do.
 
    "Oh... I'll wallop your willie, Spike," Buffy shot back, taking the rest of the stairs menacingly, her hand reaching for the stake she always kept in her back pocket.  She stopped right in front of him, her chin tipped up defiantly, completely ignoring her mother's stunned presence.
 
    To her surprise, Spike began laughing. Deep, rich chuckles that sent delicious little shivers running through her again. 
 
    "You'll do what to my willie, slayer?" Spike asked, his voice colored with amusement, and a hint of something else.
 
    Buffy, who had hardly ever blushed in her life, found herself with cheeks the color of crimson. Again. Luckily, Buffy's mother butted in about that time, so Buffy was saved from being forced to give a witty retort, which she found herself so totally incapable of at that moment.
 
    "Buffy?  You know this man?"
 
    The two blonde's heads turned in unison to regard Joyce.  "Yes," Buffy remarked churlishly. "Unfortunately."
 
    "Hey, better be nice now. I just saved your mum."
 
    It finally dawned on Buffy that Spike was in her house. And her mom had invited him in. Rounding on her mom, she lectured, "Mom, you can't just go inviting strangers into the house!  We live in Sunnydale!!!"
 
    "And that makes a difference... why?" Joyce asked, her confusion turning into outright suspicion with the odd behavior her daughter was displaying.
 
    "Because... because... it just does, ok!!" Buffy exclaimed heatedly, placing her fisted hands on her hips.  "So, what happened? Are you ok?"  For some reason, she knew that her mom hadn't been in danger in Spike's presence. Just like she knew that if she even dared to repeat that to her friends or her Watcher, they'd probably lock her up and throw away the key. It was just... a thing. Just like she kinda knew Spike felt the same way, which is why he felt so totally unthreatened in her presence now.
 
    Her mom drew herself up, finally calling on her internal strength to get a part of her frazzled emotions under control.  "Yes, Buffy, I am fine. Now." She cast a look towards Spike, who she found regarding her daughter. "Your... friend here rescued me, I think."  Spike finally turned his intense, blue eyes in her direction, and Joyce asked, "What were those things?"
 
    "Uh..." Spike began, looking at Buffy with an amused look on his face. Fancy that. The Slayer's mum didn't know she was the Chosen Bird. That was... well, amusing.
   
    "Oh! I know this!!  I thought maybe they were Cro-Magnon, but now I see just how off I was!!" Joyce said excitedly, reverting back into her frazzled state. Buffy looked at her mom cautiously, finding her entirely too exuberant for the present circumstances. A dazed gleam seemed to shine in Joyce's eyes, as she continued her train of thought.  "Yes! They weren't Cro-Magnon at all!  Not with those foreheads.  No, I think they were more of the... Neanderthal era."
 
    Spike and Buffy watched as Joyce began to pace the room with a distracted air, mumbling to herself.  "Your mum is off her nut," Spike commented.
 
    Buffy glared at him. "It's your stupid fault."
 
    "Oooh, stop with the harsh words, luv."
 
    "Shut up."
 
    Joyce's ramblings began to get louder, as she tried to puzzle things out in her head.  "But... why did they turn to dust then?"  She brought her index finger to her lip as they pursed with intense concentration.  Then she gasped suddenly, and turned to them excitedly. "I've got it! It's like that movie... what was it called... with the guy frozen in the ice?"
 
    "Encino Man?" Buffy supplied helpfully.
 
    "No, no!  Not that one. Oh! I have it!  Iceman.  It was Iceman, wasn't it?  Where they find that guy who had been frozen in the ice for what, thousands of years? And brought him back to life?  With Timothy Hutton?" Joyce hadn't been really asking a question, and she began to pace around again, comparing the vampire attack with the movie Iceman.  Her manner was almost schizophrenic, and Buffy began to regard her with concern. She was calm, then wiggy; calm, then wiggy.  It was unnerving.
 
    Suddenly, Spike shifted into game face when Joyce's back was turned, and began walking hunched over, his arms dragging at his sides in his best caveman impersonation.  "Pita..." he said in a raspy voice, then eyed her frantically through yellow eyes, his head tossed back crazily. "PITA!!!"
 
    Buffy eyed him incredulously, before remembering the only line that the resurrected caveman had delivered in the whole movie her mom was rambling on about. She couldn't help the giggle that slipped past her lips.  Suddenly, the whole situation struck her as hilarious, and she slapped her hand over her mouth as a whoop of laughter erupted.
 
    Joyce whipped around just in time to see Spike's features smooth out once more. Her startled gasp served to end Buffy's hysteria, and she sobered quickly. 
 
    "Buffy, just what is going on. And don't tell me nothing, because I'm not going to buy that anymore." Joyce watched as Buffy exchanged looks with Spike, then turned back to her.
 
    "Fine. But just don't freak because I didn't tell you before, ok?"
 
    Her mom crossed her arms over her chest, and gave her a look that Buffy knew very well.  Joyce pointed to    the couch, and Buffy moved to follow her mom's unvoiced order.
 
 
    TBC...
 
Ok, hopefully only one or two more chapters.  I'll get to them tomorrow!
 
       
 


 
   

Halloween Trick or Freak
By Bloodshedbaby
Chapter 4
Special thanks to my beta Spikeskat!! *hugs*
Buffy slumped under the weight of her mom's unwavering stare, shifting nervously on the couch. All previous signs of temporary insanity were gone, and Joyce Summers, Mom Extraordinaire, had slipped firmly back into place.

"So that's it?" her mom said finally, after letting the silence drag on for a few more dramatic, tense, moments.

"Uh... yeah?"

Another derisive snort erupted from the vampire on the couch next to her, and Joyce turned steely eyes in his direction. "Do you have anything to add to this discussion, young man?"

"Please," Spike scoffed. "I'm practically a century older than you."

"Then maybe you should begin acting like it."

It was Buffy's turn to snort, and it earned her another glare from the parental unit. Finally, Joyce just sighed, and the wind suddenly seemed to drop from her sails, resulting in her exhausted slump against the back of the chair she was perched in.

"So, that's why you've gotten yourself into so much trouble?" Joyce finally asked, not sure whether to be horrified or relieved.

Buffy nodded cautiously, trying to gauge her mother's mood. She watched as her mom reacted by getting to her feet, and headed into the kitchen, calling back over her shoulder. "Who wants hot chocolate?"

Buffy looked over at Spike, who seemed to have a dumbfounded expression on his face. "Your mum is completely out of her gourd. You know that, right?"

Ignoring his comment, Buffy asked, "Tell me again why you're still here?"

Spike's face drew into a familiar smirk. "Cos you never threatened to stake me and ordered me to go, is why."

Buffy shook her head tightly. "No, I mean,.. at all."

The mocking glint on Spike's face turned serious, and he released a heavy sigh. "Dunno. Reckon it's the same reason you're letting me sit here. Just can't find it in me to hate you the way I bloody well should."

"Yeah. Me too"

They both slumped down further on opposite ends of the couch, staring straight ahead while lost in thoughts neither wanted. Nothing was the same, and neither could figure out if that was a good or a bad thing.

Later that evening, after Joyce had shooed Spike from the house as if she hadn't just learned he was a master vampire, and had in fact been the one she'd axed over the head at Buffy's school that one time, she set her daughter back down to have another talk with her. This time however, she was determined to extract a glimmer of truth from Buffy. She was curious to know why a vampire had saved her, when she had just learned that her daughter's calling entailed annihilating his kind. She had been shocked to learn that Angel was a vampire as well, and wasn't too comforted by the reassurances that he was in control of the evil part inside him; having had his soul returned to him almost a century earlier. That hadn't made much sense to Joyce, who had looked over at Spike, and decided right then that Spike was in pretty good control himself for the supposed evil creature he declared himself to be.

So the moment Buffy warily sat back down on the couch, Joyce demanded to know why Spike had saved her at the gallery. Buffy's mumbled "I don't know" and averted eyes was more telling than Buffy could ever guess. The explanation for their reluctant camaraderie had been glossed over uncomfortably by both, and Joyce's bullshit-omitor had been fully activated. Spike's bizarre behavior in the car on the drive over made more sense now, and Joyce had to admit, she was finding him quite a puzzle.

Honestly, she just didn't know quite what to think. The night had brought such added peculiarity to what she had thought was their boring, normal life, that Joyce felt like it would take years to process all she had learned. Finally, in the end, she just hugged her daughter with a kiss and a smile, and told her to go to bed.

There was a gratefulness to Buffy that brought tears to Joyce's eyes, and it hit home just how much her daughter had given up. How many false labels she'd been forced to endure. It just didn't seem fair, and Joyce decided to try to make things as easy on her as possible.

Watching Buffy flee the room, Joyce decided to go have a little chat with that lying librarian. She was completely unaware that her daughter was up in her room, preparing for nightly patrol, as she often did after claiming fatigue and heading for bed.

When Joyce left the house this time, she assumed ownership of one of Buffy's stakes, and felt a bit wiser to the ways of Sunnydale. She shook her head ruefully as she hastily closed the car door behind her. Cro-Magnon era, really. Her higher education had sure dropped the ball on that one.

+++++++++++

Buffy watched her mom drive away, knowing exactly where she was headed, and briefly contemplated calling ahead to alert Giles of her impending attack. Then, in a fit of impish rebellion, decided against it. Why should she be the only one to face the "Wrath of Mom"? Well, ok, so maybe she hadn't been ALONE exactly, but Spike didn't really count. No, not in the slightest. There was no counting of any kind when it came to a deliciously yummy vampire in tight jeans and a great ass.

Out of habit, she took her usual stealth-cut, dropping the last few feet to land easily on the damp grass. Shrugging her weapons bag higher onto her shoulder, she turned and started out for the first cemetery of the evening, completely aware she had a stalker behind her. And completely realizing that she was swinging her own ass more than she normally would to patrol. She just... couldn't seem to stop herself. Because really, the fact that she had picked her tightest jeans for patrol had nothing to do with said yummy vamp she knew would be waiting outside. Nope, not at all. Yeah right, and she'd live to a ripe ole' age too.

It was just that she could feel those intense eyes of his practically burning an imprint on her butt, and she couldn't help but shake it a little. 'Isn't that what normal sixteen year old girls were SUPPOSED to do?' she tried to rationalize to herself, but knowing full well that normal teenagers wouldn't be encouraging hundred year old master vampires to check out their ass while they took a leisurely stroll through a cemetery at night. But hey, she could live in denial, right?

An hour later, Spike finally made his presence known, unable to stand the torture a moment longer. Having to watch the seductive sway of the Slayer's hips as he followed behind her had almost driven him off his rocker. He knew the bint was doing it on purpose, and had full intentions of extracting his revenge. He was still the chit's worst bloody nightmare, even if he had to work to keep reminding himself of that fact these days.

Buffy watched as he stepped out from behind one of the fine crypts Sunnydale had to offer, digging into his pockets for his cigarettes. Buffy was unable to gauge his mood, he seemed edgier than usual. Well, since Halloween anyway. With a quick flick of his lighter, he brought the flame up to the tip of his cigarette. The sudden flare of light brought half of his face out of the shadows, which only served to accentuate his chiseled cheeks. He didn't say anything, which gave her the wiggins. One thing she had come to count on with Spike; he never shut up.

"Wow, was wondering how long you were going to be all 'Stalker Guy'," was her less than stellar greeting.

Spike just shrugged, the powerful gaze that held her becoming more unnerving the longer they stood staring at each other. Buffy found herself twirling her stake due to a sudden attack of nerves, and had a momentary flashback to Halloween night and her alter ego's desperation for something familiar in her hands. Oh god, she had something else in common with that wuss-for-brains, Lady Elizabeth. That was so wrong.

"So... Slayer." Spike tossed his cigarette to the ground, crushing it out beneath the toe of one tattered and worn boot. He looked back up and crossed his arms over his chest. "Think it's time we suss this out, don't you?"

"Huh? Suck what?"

An evil grin played across Spike's face. "Suss, luv. Chat it out. Come out of the bleedin' closet."

"What? I am so not gay!" Buffy cried in mortification. He didn't really think that, did he?

Spike just tipped his head to the side, an amused look on his face. "There's more than one type of closet in life, luv."

Ok, she had just made two totally blonde statements in a row, and instead of using it to belittle her, Spike just seemed to find it... amusing. This had gone so far beyond creepy, it had entered the realm of seriously disturbing. Finally, she sighed deeply and gestured with her hand. "Fine. Let's suss this out, shall we?" She turned and hopped up on a tombstone, leaving Spike pacing in front of her. "Go ahead, suss away."

He tossed a black look her way, which she answered with a sweet smile. Apparently she had managed to piss him off. Oops. Mental note to self, don't mock his messed up words. "Don't fuck with me, Slayer," he growled.

  ‘There’s the Spike we all know and love,’ she thought silently.

Buffy lifted her hands in a defensive gesture. "Hey, cowboy, you're the one who said you wanted to suss this out. I'm here and all for the suss-age. So why don't you just tell me what brought all this on?"

His black look heated with an emotion that Buffy tried desperately to ignore. "You know what brought it on."

Feigning ignorance, Buffy said offhandedly, "Enlighten me."

For a moment, Spike looked like he wanted to storm out of the cemetery, but then turned to face her. "Right then. How about this? Maybe you could explain why we're here chattin' each other up, instead of trying to do the other in, like good little mortal enemies are supposed to do?"

Buffy began to squirm uncomfortably from her perch on top of the headstone. This was worse than having to talk to her mom. Because at least then, she didn't have to risk looking at his penetrating gaze that kept trying to stare right into her soul. Nope, she had been able to keep her gaze completely averted and forget that she had a bleached blonde, undead hottie sitting on the couch with her. But now, his studied gaze was piercing straight through her, trying to extract something that she wasn’t quite sure she really wanted to give.

"Uh, well... I suppose I feel sorta... grateful to you. You know, for doing the Buffy save-age thing when I was under that spell," she finally managed to spit out. "It just doesn't seem right for me to try to stake you now. And then, you know, not killing me when my stupid friend tried to double cross me. He's lucky he left town, by the way. He was so in for a world of hurt."

Spike wasn't about to tell her that the idiot had shown up at the Factory to request payment, and never one to back down on his word, Spike had turned him. But then had staked him the moment he rose, anger at what the idiot had attempted to do to Buffy fueling his motivations. Buffy did not need to know about that, and never would.

"Yeah, well, there was that," he admitted, watching her intently and enjoying her heightened edginess, finding himself strangely reassured by it. He felt better knowing he wasn’t alone in his sudden restlessness.

"Why didn't you, anyway?" Buffy suddenly asked.

"What, kill ya?"

Buffy nodded, finally able to look him in the eye, her gaze never wavering, and this time it was Spike who had to look away. "Dunno, really. Just couldn't. I've got all these feeling swirlin' inside of me now," he admitted, missing the look of relief on Buffy's face.

"Yeah," Buffy agreed.

Spike began to pace in front of her, agitation having dug its piercing claws in, and refused to let go. "It's bloody ridiculous, is what. I know I should be killin' ya, trying to rip your throat out, but I soddin' well can't. I just have this urge to... protect you. And it's fucking wrong."

If Spike had been looking at her at that moment, he would have seen the soft smile that had plastered itself on her face. "Yeah? Well, you think that's bad? I get the urge to go all damsel-y when ever you're around," Buffy revealed.

Spike turned hopeful eyes in her direction. "Really?" Then his eyes narrowed as he contemplated her. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better, are you?"


Buffy shook her head, not able to trust her voice at that moment. Spike's face broke out into a genuine smile, one that transformed his face entirely. It softened him, made him more touchable, appear less evil.

"So... what are we going to do about this?" Spike asked finally, breaking the enchantment that had woven around them as they drank each other in.

Ugh. The real world. Not what Buffy really wanted to think about, but hey, she couldn't have anyone accusing her of being a slave to her hormones, could she? Nope. Not when evil was afoot. Especially not when evil was standing right in front of her wearing a tight black tee, and sporting a drop-dead sexy smile. No siree bob. She was the Slayer. It was her job to take care of evil. Yep, so that is what she was going to do. Take care of it.

Spike suddenly found himself with a hundred pounds of Slayer wrapped around him, her lips smashing against his as she pressed herself boldly against his lean frame. 'Ah yeah, nothing better than taking care of evil,' she thought fleetingly, as Spike took the control of the kiss, seeking entry into her mouth. When her lips parted, he thrust his tongue inside, exploring the moist caverns of her mouth. She tasted like power and innocence, all wrapped into one, and he greedily tried to get all he could.

A whimper escaped her mouth at the feelings that were rushing through her. The same ones he had evoked while they had been the Sheriff and the Lady. Except it was different this time. Better. This felt real.

Spike's hands reached down and cupped the globes of her ass, bringing her up against his straining erection. After watching her bum twitch all evening, it was about bloody time he got to put his hands on it. He allowed one hand to travel up, skimming under her shirt and caressing the bare skin of her back.

Evil was nice, Buffy decided. Evil was a good kisser, and evil felt REALLY good against her body. Oh yeah, she liked evil a whole lot, especially if he just kept kissing her.

But, because nothing ever went like she wanted, a voice behind them caused both of them to jump apart. "Is there a line for the kissing booth?"

Bringing her hand up to touch her swollen lips, Buffy looked over at the cocky vampire in a daze. "W-what?"

"Figure I'd wait in line, since you're kissing vampires before you stake them."

Buffy looked at Spike. "Does he think he's funny, or he just really stupid?"

"I think he's just really stupid, luv."

"Oh." In less then thirty seconds, the kiss crasher was nothing more than clump of dust in the grass.

"Did I ever tell you how much that turns me on?"

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Now, why does this NOT surprise me?" She checked her watch. "I better get home. I don't want mom to find me gone, and go all damage bound."

Spike's face turned serious. "So, luv, we never did decide what to do about... this."

Buffy sighed and turned to face him. "I don't know. Because in case you hadn't notice, we aren't exactly in the running for the most compatible couple. Slayer, vampire. I'm supposed to staking evil, not... kissing it."

It was Spike's turn to heave a telling sigh, as he directed his gaze to the ground. "Don't feel so evil anymore," he mumbled too softly for Buffy to hear.

"Huh?"

"I said, I bloody well don't feel so evil anymore." He met her stunned eyes, and gave her a small embarrassed smile.

"Since when?"

"Bloody hell, Slayer, you know since when."

She let a hopeful smile snake across her face. "Really?"

"Yes, really. What, you think I'd want to be admitting something like that? Vampire here. I like being evil."

"Yeah. Not so much with liking this damsel-y thing either."

"So, again the question. What are we going to do?"

"Oh, I know! Let's do the avoidy thing, and talk about it tomorrow," Buffy suggested with a perky smile.

Spike's lips curled into a smirk. "Right. Tomorrow, it is."

"Ok, then, tomorrow. So, this is me going home. Night." Buffy turned to walk away, fighting the overwhelming urge to throw herself back into his arms. His nice muscular arms that felt just right wrapped around her. She stopped after taking a few steps, and looked over her shoulder. "Don't kill anyone, ok?"

An unreadable look shadowed his face. "Haven't killed anyone since that night, pet."

"Because of me?"

A wry smile crept over his face. "No. The soddin' sheriff, is why. He's corrupted my brain with his do-gooder way."

Buffy's smile lit him up inside. "Good," she responded, then fled into the night.

tbc..





Review me please!! Cos well, I'm majorally paranoid and need lots of feedback. *nods* I'm greedy that way!

by Bloodshedbaby
Chapter 5
a/n-This chapter is for Beanmommy and Kari Mouke, thanks for your plot help! Also, this chapter is un beta'd, so all mistakes are mine.
Buffy stomped into her first class in a majorally pissy mood, thanks to the confrontation with Giles first thing that morning. He hadn't even let her say anything, just started in with 'blah blah, evil, blah blah'. Of course her mind had taken a quick side trip immediately at the mention of the word 'evil', and she sadly missed the last half of his rant. Ok, maybe not much with the sadness, because well, he HAD mentioned... evil.

So after being told she was being irresponsible, stupid, rash, and any other term Giles felt like saddling her poor impressionable, sensitive self with, she was finally dismissed from the library and allowed to go to class. Not a moment too soon either, her thoughts were getting entirely too off topic. Giles had made loud inquiries as to why Spike had spared her life at the club, and why Spike had came to her mother's rescue. Buffy had spent much of the night rehearsing what she hoped to be a logical explanation to Giles. But in the end, she had floundered. All rational explanations flew out of her brain, and all she could reaffirm was, "I'm so not talking about this." Not the best thing to say to Giles, and she knew it wasn't the end of the subject. So not fair. It fell under the heading of her personal life, right? So why couldn't it just stay... personal?

Willow jumped a little when Buffy slammed her books down on the desk she occupied directly across from hers. "Hey... Buffy," Willow greeted hesitantly, taking note of the sour look on her friend's face.

Buffy threw herself into her seat petulantly. "Giles is so stupid."

"Yeah, that's what I've always thought too. What, with all his degrees and stuff," Willow agreed with a high level of insincerity. She took note of severe pout on Buffy's face. "What did he do?"

"Lectured me."

"And that's new... because?"

Buffy flashed her friend a ghost of a smile. "Because he kinda has a point this time."

"Oh." Willow tried to mask the shocked look on her face. For Buffy to voluntarily admit that Giles was right about something... well, it was almost like an apocalyptic event. "Wanna talk about it?"

"No," Buffy muttered, crossing her arms over her chest and slumping down in her chest. "Maybe."

"Ok, I'm sensing some major confusion here. What was Giles on you about?"

"Evil," Buffy announced. Ah yes, evil. A dreamy smile slid across her face.

"And that confusing because...?" Willow asked, finding Buffy's demeanor perplexing. "Is that good or bad?"

"Good." Realizing what she'd just admitted, Buffy rapidly back-pedaled. "I mean, bad. Major bad. Oh yes, very, very bad. Bad evil."

"Buffy, is this about what happened at Halloween?"

The deer in the headlights look that Buffy threw her way clued Willow that she was on the right track. "Halloween?" Buffy squeaked. "No way!"

Cordelia sat down at her seat behind Buffy, hearing the tail end of their conversation. "Please. You're so not fooling anyone. Like we're not supposed to notice you walking around all dreamy and secretive? That you won't even talk to Angel?" She tossed her long brown locks back dramatically, and snidely announced, "Poor thing, he's been so lonely. I've been forced to spend time with him at the Bronze. We've been getting to know each other, and wow. We just have so much in common."

Ok, now Willow found herself officially wigged because Buffy didn't even respond to Cordelia's un-veiled barbs. Before Halloween, Buffy was totally aboard the 'Oh Angel' train, now she was acting as if she didn't even care that Cordelia was trying to get her hooks into him. Something was totally up.

"Did you guys have a fight?" Willow found herself asking.

"No." Buffy opened her text book and pretended to look through it.

"Then what?"

"Don't want to talk about it."

"And gee, there she goes being little Miss Avoidy Girl. Color me surprised," Cordelia commented with a robust eye roll.

"I don't recall inviting you into this conversation, Miss Buttinski," Buffy tossed over her shoulder.

"Wow, that's soo original."

"Hey!" Willow called. "Come on! Cordy, Buffy's right. Private conversation here. As in, privileged information being shared."

"Fine," Cordelia commented, sitting back in her chair. "But just crown her Miss Evady-ness USA right now. I mean, it's like, major obvious she's got the hots for that bleached bloodsucking bonehead. Any moron can see that."

"Spike?" Willow cried, face echoing her horror. "No way! Tell her, Buffy."

But the look on Buffy's face was a clear indicator that Cordelia's observation was correct. "Buffy? Is it true?" Willow asked.

"Don't wanna talk it. Not gonna talk it."

"Yep, there's mature Buffy talking. " Cordelia pulled out a compact from her purse and inspected her make-up, then she looked up with a snide look. "Oh, here's your tiara, Buff. Thanks for freeing up Mr. Salty Goodness."

Buffy glared over her shoulder at the hand that was extended mockingly towards her, but was saved by the bell, literally. The teacher entered and all conversation was brought to a halt, bringing blessed silence. But the look Willow sent her clearly indicated it was just a brief reprieve, not a total avoidance of the matter.

Buffy spent most of the day dodging her friends and Watcher, something that she hated doing. But the truth was, she just didn't want to talk about it. Because, well, there was absolutely nothing to talk about. Nope. Nothing that included Spike or anything that happened at Halloween. Or afterwards. Well, nothing they needed to know about, because it was none of their business.

After school however, she got cornered and herded into the library, where she groaned the second she walked through those double doors. Willow and Xander practically had to pull her the rest of the way in, kicking and screaming. Yep, there they all were; even Angel, gathered around the research table. By the serious looks they all wore, Buffy knew she was in for a whole world of intervention. She couldn't look at Angel, he had that hurt puppy dog look on his face that she used to think was sweet. But now it just plain annoyed her. 'Get over yourself,' she wanted to scream at him, but she wisely kept her mouth shut. Ok, so maybe she HAD been ignoring Angel lately. What was the big? It's not like they were made for each other or anything.

"Ok, you guys. What part of 'not want to talk about it' does everybody NOT understand?"

Giles ripped off his glasses in frustration. "Buffy, surely you can see that this isn't something we can just simply ignore."

Xander grabbed a bag of chips from the table, opening them noisily. "Yeah, Buffsters. You just haven't been the same since that costume caper."

Buffy bit back a heavy sigh, knowing there was no way she could waffle through this. "Fine. Everyone wants to know why Spike didn't kill me? And why he saved my mom? Is that it? Is that why you are all here?" She looked around the room, seeing the expectant eyes and felt like growling with frustration. She so didn't want to do this. Why did everyone always butt their big asses into her business? It wasn't fair, just because she was the Slayer. "Fine, here's why. That costume caper, as you called it, left us not hating each other the way we used to. Ok? That's all it is. It's no big."

"That means... what, exactly?" Giles inquired.

Buffy gave a small cry of annoyance and got up to pace the room. "It means this, and only this. He looks at me, he doesn't see me as just the Slayer anymore. I look at him, I don't see him as just a vampire anymore. As a result, we don't have the urge to kill each other like we used to. Don't know why it is, but it's not hurting anyone, so can we PLEASE just drop it?"

When Xander opened his mouth to protest, Buffy felt her face harden with resolve. "I said drop it, Xander. I mean it, so not going to talk about it anymore." Buffy looked at each of her friends, steeling herself against the hurt in Angel's eyes, then looked at her Watcher pleadingly. "It's all right, Giles, really."

"I certainly hope so, Buffy." Giles voice was terse as he and Angel exchanged looks, and Buffy felt her temper flare.

"Why can't you just be grateful I have one less enemy trying to kill me? One enemy who very well could have gotten the job done? If we weren't feeling this way, you'd have one dead Slayer on your hands right now. Would that be better?" At Giles and Angel's shocked looks, Buffy continued her rant, "Then why does it always have to be turned into some sinister event? Why can't you just trust me to know what I'm doing for once?"

Some of the tension left Giles' face. "I suppose you're right, Buffy. I guess there is nothing else to do than... trust your judgment on this matter."

Buffy looked at Giles suspiciously. This was way too easy. "Ok, what gives?"

An unreadable look settled over Giles's usually reserved face, causing Xander to give a hoot of laughter. "Oh, did wittle Joycey Summers scare the big bad Watcher?" he asked in a mockery of baby talk.

"I do not wish to speak of it," Giles announced primly, confirming that it was indeed so, and Buffy smiled with delight. Way to go mom.

On their way out of the library, Buffy was invited to the Bronze that evening. With other more appealing plans afoot, Buffy wanted to say no. But at the slightly wary vibes she was picking up from her friends, she figured she'd better at least make an appearance, then cut out early. Because there was no way she was missing out on those other plans. Uh uh, no way.

After making arrangement, she watched Willow and Xander walk away, and felt her slayer sense fire. Buffy whipped around to see Angel exiting the library door. They stared at each other, pain and concern warring on his face. Buffy had to suppress a sudden attack of giggles when she remembered her mom's off handed comment of the night before, saying that with Angel's coarse facial bone structure, he could have played the starring role in Iceman.

"You can't trust Spike."

Buffy wasn't quick enough to suppress the reflexive eye roll, and she watched Angel's face blacken with anger. "I'm serious, Buffy. You don't know him like I do."

Putting her fisted hands on her hips, she faced the vampire who had previously evoked such an intense feeling in her, that she felt as if she would die if he didn't kiss her. Now, he just kinda... paled in comparison to her newer paler version. Taking a deep breath, knowing that of all of them, she owed him the most explanation, she tried to make sense of things. "Angel, i know it's kinda weird. Believe me, I KNOW. It's kind of hard to explain, but that spell kinda gave us a doggie bag to take home. I still feel a bit... lame."

Angel eyed her curiously, and Buffy noticed that Giles had edged his way into the explanation, and waited for her to continue. "So, that's what it is," she clarified. "I have lame leftovers, and Spike feels..."

"Protective." Angel finished for her in a harsh tone.

"Yeah."

Angel punched the locker in front of him, denting in the metal door like it was an aluminum can, causing Buffy to jump in alarm. When he stalked off down the corridor towards the basement, Buffy called after him in a warning tone, "Don't do anything, Angel. I mean it."

He kept walking, but Buffy knew he heard her. She just hoped he listened. Without looking at Giles, she stalked off in the other direction, leaving Giles to head to his office and his private stash of scotch in the locked bottom drawer of his office.

Buffy had been on pins and needles all afternoon. She hated feeling like this, this spastic sense of anticipation. It was... irritating. She hated the fact that she had spent hours agonizing over what to wear, because it wasn't like she and Spike had made any concrete plans the night before, or anything. She didn't even know WHEN she'd be seeing him.

Ok dammit, she admitted it. So, she was nervous. Yeah, maybe she had been trying to deny it while she had been primping. But her edginess kind of smacked her upside the head when she had spastically dropped almost every item of make up she owned, trying to get herself all pretty. God, not even her first encounters with Angel had made her feel like this, and she had thought those were pretty nerve wrecking events, those "what if" scenarios. Briefly, she wondered if Spike had thought about her at all today, then shrugged it off. Nah. This was most definitely one of those totally lame teenage crush thingies, not something vampires who were over a hundred years old went through. Spike had over a century of dealing with sex and relationships. Ok, probably just relationship. As in, the singular. Somehow, she had a feeling he hadn't been paralyzed with that whole wandering penis syndrome when it came to Drusilla.

Ugh. Drusilla. Buffy was glad she had left town after that whole Angel playground thing. Even though she was a crazy lunatic of a ho douche-bag, she still made Buffy feel... young and unsophisticated. The psychotic bitch.

Giving herself a wry shake of the head, she practically laughed aloud at herself. Here she was, a vampire's worst nightmare, worrying over whether or not she was sophisticated enough for a vampire. Especially a vampire who hadn't changed his look for a few decades. She was way beyond whacked, there was no denying it.

Looking at the clock by her bedside, she saw it was past time to leave for the Bronze. With her heart taking a bold leap into her stomach leaving a swirling world of heebie jeebies in its wake, Buffy took one last considering glance in the mirror. Grabbing a Kleenex, she wiped off the slut red lipstick she had carefully painted her lips with. 'No slut red for Buffy,' she decided, and grabbed the pink she usually wore.

It wasn't like she expected to see Spike until later anyway, so what was with this major freakage? Even if she did see him, it was no big, right? Trying to keep that thought firmly in place, she turned around and forced herself out the door. But her stupid legs would have none of that, and ran back for her 'I'm a Huge Slut Bag, Ask Me How' lipstick before they would finally move her ass out the door.

When Buffy got to the Bronze, she found Xander and Willow waiting at their usual table. She cringed when she noticed Cordelia, her carefully made up face settled into a barely tolerant grimace, sitting next to Willow.

"Hey guys!" she greeted brightly, pulling out the chair next to Willow and plopping herself down.

"Well, don't you just look nice and gothic trashy," Cordelia commented, eyeing Buffy's black silk halter top and black leather pants with utter distaste.

"Gee, Cordelia, it's really good to see you too. As in, not really."

Cordelia shrugged, one spaghetti strap of her filmy designer dress sliding provocatively down one shoulder. "I want to see Angel, and I figure hanging with you losers is the best way to accomplish that."

A flurry of panic gripped Buffy, and she turned wide eyes in Willow's direction. "Is Angel coming?"

"Shockingly, I think we will not be treated to Dead Boy's presence this evening," Xander answered, then eyed Cordelia with a look of aversion. "Yet someone refuses to accept that, subjecting us to her vile company."

"It's only fair that I spread myself around." Cordelia dug out her compact out of her purse, once again inspecting her already flawless make-up.

Willow leaned over to whisper in Buffy's ear. "Thank god you're here. They've been really cranky tonight."

Buffy offered her friend a smile, casually looking around. The Bronze was crowded, a typical occurrence for a weekend night in a town such as Sunnydale, that didn't offer much else in the way of youthful pursuits.

"So, Buffsters, what's with this residual thing from Halloween?" Xander's tone was friendly, but Buffy couldn't help but look at him with caution.

"Xander! Didn't you hear her say she didn't want to talk about it? I don't want her to go, don't make her do that thing where she goes!" Willow turned to Buffy. "Don't go, Xander didn't mean it." The redhead turned back to glare at her friend.

"Well, if he didn't, I'll just ask, because I want to know." Cordelia's face hadn't twitched from the bored mask she had assumed earlier.

Buffy bit back an annoyed sigh. Was this so surprising? Uh, not so much. Why? Because she was Buffy, therefore her life was an open book, and would always remain as such. That's all she was. A book. One to be opened at anytime. Her life sucked.

"Fine. I have a little residual stuff from Halloween. Don't you?"

Xander's eyes grew wide. "Me?"

"Yeah, hello, Mr. GI Joe Was There."

Xander pondered that thought for a second before he busted out with a wide grin. "Well, sweet fancy picante sauce, I guess I do! I hadn't really thought about it." He closed his eyes and mimed dismantling a rifle, his movements quickly assured and self-confident. "YES!!"

"Yippee." Cordelia's voice was flat and bored.

When Xander opened his mouth to respond, Willow cut him off by grabbing his arm. "Oooh! I love this song. Come on, Xander, let's go do the dancing thing."

Xander allowed himself to be hauled out of his seat and turned to follow Willow. "Come on, Buff-aroni."

"I think I'll sit this one out. I'm kinda parched, think I'll go get some liquid refreshment."

"Right! Because we are in a parch free zone, and everything," Willow commented.

Cordelia got to her feet. "Ugh, you losers are so lame. If you see Angel, tell him I'll be back in a little while."

"We'll be right on that, sure thing." Xander had a completely innocent look on his face, but his voice dripped with false insincerity.

Buffy watched her friends hit the dance floor, and Cordelia storm away, and she slumped down low into her chair. Then she got that tingle in the back of her neck, and her heart sped up with anticipation. Vampire. And she was pretty sure it was her vampire. No, not pretty sure, she was damn sure.

TBC...



I would so love it if you review!!! Thanks so very much to all the people who have already done so, you rock!!

Chapter 6 or OMG is this fic EVER going to end???

a/n-This chapter is dedicated to Babysquid and BlueIrish, because this goes back to the Oakland con. They know, and yes, it is finally THAT chapter, babysquid. MUCHO thanks to Beanmommy for being my plot guidance counselor!!! Thanks sweets!! This chapter is also unbeta'd because I just can't stand to bug my poor busy beta!!!


Buffy watched her friends hit the dance floor while Cordelia stormed away, and she slumped down low into her chair. Then she got that tingle in the back of her neck, and her heart sped up with anticipation. Vampire. And she was pretty sure it was her vampire. No, not pretty sure, she was damn sure.


Before she could even cast a nervous glance around the Bronze, he was there. As in, right there, so close she could smell the hint of cigarettes, the fruity scent of whatever hair gunk he always slathered in his hair, and just HIM. She could feel her body come alive at their close proximity, her every nerve ending reaching out for him, almost as if her body was calling out for him in some weird freaky way. Wow, that was new.

Her eyes did a quick perusal of his body, sliding over the open ranges of black clad hard muscle, and her body shouted with glee. Why, hello Spike, it said. Yep, she could hear it all right. She finally dragged her gaze away from the way his pectorials were so deliciously defined under his tight t-shirt and met his eyes, her lips instinctively curling up into a coy smile.

"Hi." Her voice came out throatier than she had anticipated, and she could see the swift reaction, as Spike's eyes darkened heatedly. He took a step closer, and her breath suddenly hitched in her chest, causing a broad smirk to grace Spike's angular face. The feeling of anticipation grew as they stood regarding each other once more, both feeling a keen sense of familiarity in this situation.

Spike's trademark smirk changed to a lazy grin, and Buffy watched as his hand came up and reached towards his head in a familiar gesture, then couldn't help the peals of giggles that erupted at the look of disgust and shock on his face as he stared at his treacherous hand.

"S'not bloody funny." But it really was, and Buffy couldn't help the continuing laughter. Spike shook his head ruefully and threw himself in the seat next to her. "I'm ruined."

Buffy sat back down, her smile bright and affectionate. "Nah."

He gave her a look of disgust. "I just bloody tried to tip my hat at you, Slayer. I think that pretty much wraps things up all tight like, with a nice little bow on top."

"Yeah, but it was sorta sweet. I think I like it better than the 'I'm gonna kill you you.. No, I'm going to kill YOU...' posturing, that we usually greet each with."

"Yeah, there is that."

Their eyes met and held, a mutual sense of contentment and acceptance suddenly mirrored. Finally, Buffy gave voice to her one small fear. "Spike... do you think this is all some spell? Do you think all of a sudden, this lingering persona thingie is just going to like, totally bail?"

Spike shrugged. "Dunno, luv. Don't think so."

"But, what if it does? What then?"

Spike leaned close and grabbed her hand under the table. "We'll suss it out if it happens, ok pet?"

Buffy nodded, relieved to have gotten her worry out in the open. She didn't want this to be a spell, dammit, because that just wasn't fair. All right, maybe having a bit of Elizabeth in her was like being a little on the schizophrenic freak train. But hey! It's not like Buffy was in there all alone anyway. Her Slayer had staked down roots too. She was used to having the multiple personality thing. Elizabeth just seemed to... soften her hard edges. That wasn't so bad, was it?

"Oh, for the love of tacos and frijoles!" Xander complained loudly, interrupting her self realization monologue. "Wanna tell me what Sheriff Woody is doing sitting at our table? And better yet, why the good Sheriff isn't being impaled with his namesake?"

Spike flashed a wicked grin in Buffy's direction, and winked, then turned to look at Xander. "You offerin' or just asking?"

Xander's face blanked for just a fraction before disgust rolled over, backing up frantically to get away from the homicidal, potentially homosexual vampire. "Ew! And can I just say again... EW! That is a big NO with the offering!"

Once again, Buffy couldn't help the laugh that escaped. "He's just kidding, Xander."

Xander ceased his frantic flee, and eyed the amused smirking vampire with just mere loathing this time. "And again I ask, what's he doing here?"

Spike narrowed his eyes in the boy's direction. "Just bloody sitting here, having a conversation with the Slayer."

Finding himself unable to find a suitable response to that not evil comment, Xander shot back lamely, "Yeah? So where's your sharp shooters tonight, huh Spike? Did you leave them at home?"

Spike gave him a withering look. "Please. You're one to talk. I wasn't the only one to sport a pistol that night, if you will recall."

"Yeah, but mine was bigger." Xander couldn't help but brag, his hands itching to get themselves on another automatic assault weapon.

An evil grin slid across Spike's face. "Was it now? We talking weapons here or...?"

Xander's face flushed red and his not so witty repertoire of insults seemed to desert him completely. Buffy rolled her eyes and stood up, dragging Spike out of his chair. "Come on, let's go dance."

"Where are you going?"

"Not really thinking I need to repeat myself, Xander." Buffy stood next to Spike, her hand still entwined with his, and they turned towards the dance floor, where a full array of gyrating fools were on display.

Spike suddenly stopped and looked back over his shoulder at Xander and Willow. "I think the Slayer wants to play with my pistol," Spike called back wickedly, earning a heated shove from the girl at his side. Another round of giggles wafted back to Xander, causing him to cringe quite violently.

When they had disappeared behind a wall of people, Xander slumped to his seat while Willow sat with trepidation. "Now, that was beyond freaky."

"You betcha," Willow agreed. "That wasn't like the Spike we know and usually try to kill, at all. He was almost... nice."

"Are you insane?"

Willow took note of the look of outrage on Xander's face, and rushed to say, "Ok, he did make with the seriously disturbing comments and stuff, and that was icky, and all kinds of wrong. But Xander, think about it. There were no threats to kill us, nothing. He was just kinda, jovial. Perverted, yes, but jovial."

"If that's what you want to call it."

They both craned their necks to get a view of what was happening on the dance floor, and Xander allowed a shudder to pass through him. Even though it was a song with a fast beat, Spike had his arms wrapped around Buffy, and there was little space in between them. As in, next to none. Buffy had her arms snaked around his neck, and the side of her face plastered against his chest, and they moved in a slow, sensuous rhythm to the music.

"Please tell me that's just a new method of lulling vampires into a state of false security before they're staked."

"Sorry, Xander. I think... she kinda likes him."

"Well, duh!" Cordelia had returned, and Xander couldn't help the smile of anticipation that stretched over his face, because she had not returned alone. Oh no. The thunderous look on Angel's face was almost worth having had to put up with the sexual innuendos from Spike and then seeing Buffy doing her best velcro impersonation out on the dance floor. Well, almost.

+++++++++++

The weird part was finding such utter contentment just to be in Spike's arms, swaying slowly to the music. Spike wasn't even doing the hot and heavy pelvic grind-age either, even though she could more than feel his erection pressing into her. So Buffy was thinking he was feeling the exact same way. It was just... weird. He had his face buried into the crook of her neck, and there were no alarms being set off at the close proximity of his lethal weapons at her jugular. Instead, it was nice.

"You're not going to go all square dance-y on me, are you?" she asked suddenly.

"What?"

"You know. All 'dosado, and away we go'?"

She felt him chuckle against the smooth skin of her neck, and it caused an immediate shiver through her. "No Slayer, not inclined to do any type of square or line dancing, if that's what you're worried about."

"Ok good, no hoedowning for Spike. Not that I was really worried, you know. Just with you trying to tip your hat at me earlier, didn't know if there were any other things shouting to come out." They resumed their slow dance. "You know, you could call me by my real name. Don't have to keep calling me 'Slayer' all the time, now that our mortal enemy-ness is down to like, Def-con Zero."

Spike lifted his head lazily from her neck. "Buffy isn't your real name, it it, pet? I know your mom is bloody well off her rocker, but even she wouldn't be that cracked."

Buffy cringed suddenly, then looked at him with steely resolve. "Well, no, it's not. But it is soo what you're going to call me."

He cocked his head to the side in that scrumptious way he seemed to have, tucking his tongue behind his top teeth as he studied her. "Let's hear your real name, pet."

Unable to hold up under the weighty sizzle of his sexy look, she broke. "Fine, it's, uh... Elizabeth."

The smile he gave her broke her some more, and she felt like she was about to do that swooning thing. Well, if swooning entailed your legs growing too weak to support your weight, and your brain growing too dizzy to process rational thought, then ok, yeah. She was definitely doing some major swoon-age.

Luckily, Spike had a firm grip on her. Oh boy, did he ever. Then he said her name with that sweet smile, "Buffy," and she couldn't help but smile back at him. A big, stupid, goofy grin that she couldn't wipe off even if she wanted to, unable to tear herself away from his eyes. She'd never seen them quite like this before and she'd borne witness to quite a few variations. They had flashed derisive, anger, challenging, cocky, gloating and lately, fondness, amusement, passion, desire. But right now, Buffy felt like they were going to consume her, as if she could get lost in them and never want to find her way out. There was more than fondness evident, almost... Buffy felt her breath halt in her chest as she absorbed the full brunt of Spike's emotions. Wow, she always knew Spike had expressive eyes, but this was beyond intense.

"Spike?" Buffy found herself whispering.

"Shhh..." Spike tipped his head down to lightly nibble on her lips. "Don't say anything."

But because she was Buffy, her moment had to be ruined. Spike was torn from her arms, and tossed aside, managing to knock into some people who were less than thrilled. From Swooner to Slayer in one quarter second flat, Buffy rounded on Angel.

"What are you doing???"

"I don't want his hands on you," Angel growled, his droll brown eyes angry and flashing amber. The crowd that had been previously dancing began to forget their boogying pursuits and gathered round. A small chant of "fight.... fight..." began echoing through the dance floor, and Buffy rolled her eyes. Great. Just what she needed; playground mentality.

Buffy could feel Spike right behind her, and she extended one arm back to place a warning hand on his chest. Oohh... nice chest, and she splayed her fingers appreciatively. Then she saw Angel's face begin to morph, and she stalked forward, waving a finger in his face.

"Don't you DARE," she hissed, her tone shocking Angel from completing the transformation.

"FIGHT... FIGHT!!!" The quiet chant was beginning to build in crescendo, as more of the crowd watched in anticipation of seeing some blows thrown, and quite possibly some blood spilled. Buffy could see bouncers headed their way, and threw Angel a dark look, then grabbed Spike's hand and dragged him off the dance floor. There were groans of disappointment flung in their wake, then dancing reclaimed their attention, and the potential bloodshed was all but forgotten.

Buffy could feel gleeful excitement pouring off of Spike, who was practically bouncing with each step he took. They passed by an equally anticipatory Xander, an indifferent Cordelia, and a nervous Willow, and Buffy didn't even bother to spare them a glance. Her entire goal here was to avoid a confrontation, especially a public confrontation, because those were always hard to cover up, no matter how stupid the people of Sunnydale continually proved themselves to be.

She pulled Spike into the alleyway behind the Bronze, then turned in expectation when Angel stormed through the door. Buffy crossed her arms over her chest, her posture clearly indicating her displeasure. "Are you insane? Going all Grrr in the middle of the Bronze?"

Angel had the good sense to look slightly chagrined. "Didn't mean to do that."

"Well, then WHAT were you doing?"

Annoying brown eyes tried to lock their woebegone puppy dog look on her, and Buffy let out a small sigh of annoyance. "Angel, I thought we had covered this earlier today."

"You can't trust him."

Spike had been content to just sit and watch as his girl went to battle for him, but at that statement, undefined resentment flared. "That's a bunch of bloody rot, Angelus."

As if Spike never spoke, Angel proceeded to make his case to Buffy. "This is all some spell, can't you see that? It's not real, the only thing he really feels for you is seething hatred and the urge to end your life. I know him, Buffy."

Suddenly, Angel found himself pinned to the wall behind him, Spike holding him in place easily. Spike stared deep into his grande-sire's eyes, letting him read exactly what he felt, exactly what was going on, and relaxed his hold when he felt Angel sag against the wall. "Fuck," Angel muttered, admitting defeat.

"Got that bleedin' right." Spike let Angel go and crossed to Buffy, grabbing her hand.

"Ok, was that some weird vampire thingie?"

"Yeah, luv. It was."

"Oh. Ok." She cast a nervous glance from Angel, who hadn't looked up from his perusal of the ground, back to Spike. She didn't know what had occurred, but she had a feeling it had been something kinda on the monumental side. "So, uh... now what?"

"I've had enough of this joint. Let's blow this place."

Nervousness swept through, swift and fierce, but found herself nodding in agreement. "Ok." A grin plastered itself on her face when he gallantly offered his arm, and there was no hesitation in hooking her arm through. Ahhh, this was nice. She always seemed to feel better when she was touching him, for some reason.

When they had left, Xander turned to Angel and expressed his bitter frustration. "What the hell was that? Not only is Spike not a stake sandwich, but you also let Buffy leave with him!"

Angel's soulful eyes had transcended to an even further bleak level. "He's not going to hurt her."

The dumbfounded look that appeared on Xander's face was comical. Well, almost. "Excuse me? I could have sworn you just let Buffy leave with a killer. Oh wait! Color my ass totally surprised. Not just a killer, but her #1 fan AND president of the 'I Want you so Dead' fan club!! What do you mean he won't hurt her?"

Cordelia came up and wrapped her arms around Angel's unyielding bicep, not even caring that he didn't even seem to notice her touch. "What's the big? It's not like she isn't the slayer or anything. She can just, like, kick his ass if he tries anything."

Willow stepped up. "That's not the point. Spike has her completely vulnerable right now. She trusts him. He could easily kill her at any moment, and the worst thing is, I don't think she'd do that fighting back thing."

"I told you, he won't hurt her." Angel's voice was resigned but emphatic, and Willow looked at him with suspicion. "Look, do you believe in reincarnation?"

"Well yeah, kinda believe in everything now, living on the Hellmouth and everything," Willow replied. Then, as the implications of Angel's question set in, her eyes grew wide. "No..... They aren't..., are they? Oh my goddess! Wow, and suddenly everything is making a whole lot of sense. Are you sure?" Angel nodded gravely.

"What?" Xander asked plaintively.

"Reincarnation, Xander."

"What about it?"

"They were together before." Angel injected.

"Spike and Buffy?"

"No, you idiot, and a poorly dressed one at that; their costumed selves," Cordelia answered in a scathing tone, but secretly finding it slightly romantic. She looked up at the rigid set of Angel's protruding jaw, and hugged his arm just a fraction tighter.

Shock shone on Xander's face. "Really?"

Angel nodded.

"Uh... How do you know, Angel?" Willow asked, curious to the 'vampire thingie' that had transpired.

"Because I could sense him."

"Spike?" Xander asked.

"No! Willie! The sheriff!" Willow cried, then looked to Angel for confirmation. "Right?"

Angel's tight curt nod was all the confirmation needed. "So, they're like star crossed lovers who were destined to find each other again?"

The tight dark look on Angel's face intensified, which was telling in itself. "Awwww.... that's kinda sweet." Willow announced dreamily.

"Yeah, especially when one of them is a homicidal bloodsucker." Cordelia's face was taut with distaste, and she didn't notice Angel's flinch.

"Yeah, so glad you're lobbed on to one of those, Cordy," Xander announced.

"Ooookeeeee, who else is thinking we need to take this to Giles?" Willow posed, eager to dispel the bickering, especially when she took note of Angel's rigid posture and Cordelia's clueless routine. This was about to escalate beyond the realm of ugly, pretty darn quick. And she soooo didn't even want to be thinking of what Spike and Buffy were talking about right now. She had a feeling Buffy didn't quite know what the haps were, but that Spike had full disclosure. And she sure didn't want to think of what they might be... doing, either.
tbc



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a/n-this chapter is un-beta'd, so be warned. I am also taking liberties with history, so feel free to ignore! Anything else, let's just call it creative license and say I meant to do that. :)


Chapter 7
Spike and Buffy walked in silence along the deserted streets of Sunnydale, arms still entwined, both deep in thought. Buffy was trying to puzzle things out in her head, something that was proving more than she felt like dealing with at the moment. Her mind kept coming back to one thing, and one thing only. The fact that it was pretty high up there on the wiggy scale didn't help matters. Sneaking a peek over at Spike, she noted that he seemed a bit somber. Well, for him anyway. If there was one thing Spike was not, was a somber dead guy. But she had to admit, he was a damn sexy, somber dead guy.

"Spike, what was the deal with you and Angel?"

She heard Spike sigh deeply. "Bit complicated, pet. Think we should suss this whole thing later."

Buffy whipped around to face him. "No, Spike, now. We suss now."

"Fine." He moved to throw himself down with easy grace on the curbside, pulling her to sit beside him. Spike looked into her expectant face, taking another deep sigh, finding himself uncommonly nervous. "You said you've been feeling residual stuff from that soddin' Halloween spell, yeah?" At Buffy's nod, he continued, finding his gripping reluctance not dissipating. "Yeah, well, sometime between then and now, things became a bit more intense for me. Took me a while to figure out just what the hell was going on inside this here melon of mine."

"Spike, could you just spit it out already?"

He threw her a irritated look. "Getting there, pet, don't rush me. Seems that spell did more than turn us into our costumes."

"Well, I know that, but WHAT? Stop making with the cryptic, and spill."

"What do you know about reincarnation, pet?"

Buffy gave a startled look. "No way! That's what's you think happened?"

Spike nodded, watching carefully for her reaction. The moon was thinly veiled by a smattering of clouds, but with his enhanced vision, her face was easily accessible to his unwavering gaze. He found her to be a study of seriousness, something at odds with the Slayer he usually knew.

"How do you know this?"

He smiled wryly. "Now that's the very question, isn't it?" Spike shrugged with casual nonchalance. "Wasn't hard to figure out when my demon started going ape shit after the spell. It seems the presence of the good sheriff disturbed the evil balance."

"How do you know it's not just something of a possessionage persuasion? All Exocist-y or something?"

Another wry grin was sent her way, this one with a tinge of embarrassment. "I just do, pet. Demon here, remember? Think I could sniff out a demon possession."

"Sooo... you're saying you're the reincarnation of Wallopin Willie Lyndon?"

"Yeah, William was."

Buffy tucked her head in her hands in mental agony. "Ok, this is stressing some major brain cells here. William is... who? Oh wait, duh. William the Bloody. How stupid of me."

Spike gave her hand a gentle squeeze, finding the next part difficult to admit, afraid of painting a clear picture of just exactly what he was. "That's not it. William was my human self, bit of a poncy buggar. Not sure what I think about reincarnation and past lives, but I'm pretty sure about this"

"Ok, this is way wiggy talking about you as different people, when it's just YOU I'm sitting here, seeing and touching. Not so much with the liking here."

"Yeah, figured you wouldn't."

"So... who is in there now? What exactly are you? Well, besides a vampire."

Spike looked pensive at that question, and a ghost of a smile shadowed his face. He refrained from making a crude comment, figuring Buffy needed honesty. "I think before the spell, I was pretty much pure demon with a side of William thrown in for good measure. Now, I think it's an even toss up."

She felt relieved at that, because she didn't want him to be evil, dammit! And this conversation was WAY too strangely freaky and serious. But, she had to admit, it made a weird kind of sense to her. Only on the Hellmouth. "So, do you remember things as wee Willie, then?"

"Oh, I think I'll be showing you just how wee I am NOT, little Slayer." Buffy watched as Spike did that thing where he suddenly oozed sex appeal, his body coiling as he leaned into her, smirking that damned smirk when he caught sight of the hopelessly dazed look on her face.

Smugly satisfied and figuring her well and truly punished for daring to call him 'wee', he continued, "After the spell, things were going wonky for me. William was more dominant, and that's when I realized Willie was still there from the spell, lending a hand. They pretty much ganged up on the demon and beat it into submission. As you can imagine, it wasn't happy. But, a status quo of sorts was established, and here we are. A tamed vamp for m'lady. Did you know we knew each other before, luv?" he sprung at her.

"Huh? Willie and Elizabeth?" Spike nodded. "How did that work?"

Spike shrugged. "Not privy to the details. Not sure I want to know. Just know we had feelings for each other before."

"But... isn't Angel older than you?" At his nod, Buffy face grew confused. "I thought that dress was supposed to be from the 1700's."

He pinned a disbelieving stare on her, one that had her fidgeting beneath its weight. "Who bloody told you that load of crap?"

Buffy immediately went on the defensive. "The guy at the shop!"

"Oh, you mean the same guy that turned half the kids in town into little demons? Sure. He's a reliable bloke, that one." Spike didn't even bother to veil his sarcasm. "Bet there are a lot of folks wondering just why their little Johnny suddenly is acting like a monster. Wouldn't do 'em good to know the truth, now would it?" He laughed at his own mental image of a town full of unruly kids, the lingering affects from the spell making them a parent's worst nightmare. "Nah, that dress you had on was from the 1800's. Saw enough of them in my day to know."

"Oh." Buffy immediately felt lame that her attempts to woo Angel had been totally off. Then a random thought struck her and she narrowed her eyes with suspicion.

"How come you're all Mr. Information Guy? Are you channeling the Psychic Network or something?"

He smirked in response, an infuriating grin that left little doubt that he knew exactly what he was talking about. Of course he did. He was Spike. "Just do. Come on, admit it. The first time you laid eyes on me, don't tell me there wasn't some spark of recognition, some flash of something that wasn't all about me being a vampire."

Her face was thoughtful. "And here I just thought that was me and my teenage hormones." At Spike's widening smirk, she added, "I just said that out loud, didn't I?"

His satisfied grin was the only response she needed, sparking her back on tracking. "How come I'm not all knowledge having? That is so not fair!"

"I suspect it's because your slayer self has beaten Elizabeth down to submission. Plus, it's possible you've had a few lives between Elizabeth and now, which might be distorting things. Just take my word for it. Willie and Elizabeth knew each other before."

"How come your demon didn't do that to Willie?"

"Told ya. William and Willie tag teamed the demon."

"So couldn't you have had another life or two since Willie? And why is that like making perfect sense right now?" She shook her head in wry amusement.

"Nah, not possible."

"How come?" Buffy asked petulantly.

"Because, pet. William may be dead, but he's not all gone."

"OH MY GOD. Can we just call Shirley McClaine now, and get this over with?"

Spike jumped to his feet suddenly, extending his hand down to Buffy. She accepted it warily, allowing him to pull her to her feet. He leaned in close, his intoxicating scent brushing past her. "Left one thing thing out, pet."

"Huh?" Dammit, he had to stop doing that to her! Get her all lusty, then expect her to carry on a conversation. Her mind only seemed to have one track where Spike was concerned, and it was well entrenched in that one race.

"Elizabeth and Willie knew each other, they definitely wanted each other, but here's a secret. They never had each other." Bending to her neck, he allowed his tongue to jut out, tracing a moist line up her jugular, breathing in the scent of her slightly salty skin.

"Oh," she squeaked, her arms sliding up to entwine around his neck. "Too bad for them."

"We're not going to have that little problem, are we?"

"What problem?" she asked in a dazed whisper.

"The having." The words were spoken in a smooth whisper into her ear, and Buffy could feel the tingles turning into shimmering shiver that rocked her body. Spike continued to lay down a trail of moist kisses down her neck, Buffy closed her eyes in pleasure, tipping her head to the side to allow him further skin to worship. "Or rather, the not having," Spike whispered.

"Huh?" God, she REALLY hated when he did that.

"That's what I thought." He drew back and trailed a finger gently down her cheek, tracing the contours and sampling the softness of her skin. "Come on, pet. Let's get off this street." Spike grabbed her hand, marveling at the complete trust she placed in him. And he knew just where he was going to take her.

++++

Giles had just started on delightful new bottle of scotch when his doorbell rang. Grumbling about late night visitors, he opened his door to Xander, Angel and Willow, all wearing identical looks of apprehension. Cordelia wore her usual bored expression, one that had barely wavered throughout the night.

"G-man, there is something of monumental wigginess going on." Xander didn't bother with a greeting as he brushed past the Watcher and threw himself down on the couch. He picked up the bowl of pretzels Giles was snacking on earlier, helping himself.

"Good evening Xander, why don't you come in," Giles commented dryly, as the others walked in. He looked at Angel, expecting him to get to the bottom of things. "Perhaps you could enlighten me on this midnight visit?"

"It's about Spike."

"And shockingly, this does not surprise me." Giles crossed the room and resumed his vigil with his bottle of scotch, tossing his first tumbler full back easily. "Is Buffy in danger?"

"She's with an evil killer Giles, you do the math." Xander's face was disdainful.

"No, she's not," Angel admitted, shooting Xander a cold look.

Giles sighed heavily. He turned to Willow. "Perhaps you have something to add to this?"

"Uh... I have to admit, I've got a wicked case of suspicious about all of this. But Angel and Spike had a major vampire moment, so well, I don't know. Just figured we should fill you. What, with you being Buffy's Watcher and all."

Twenty minutes and half a bottle of Scotch later, Giles felt better prepared to accept what Angel was telling him.

"Reincarnated, you shay?"

"Hey, Boozo the Clown, maybe you should trying laying off the sauce a little, don't you think?" Cordelia commented. "He's only said it, oh, twenty times since we've been here. Yes, re-in-car-na-ted."

"Cordelia!" Willow gasped, although personally agreeing that Giles had more than enough to drink.

Rather than the reprimand that they expected to follow, Giles surprised them with an eruption of giggles. Then he giggled once more, until he was almost incapacitated with laughter. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he wiped at them with the heel of his palm. He was splayed weakly against back cushion of the couch, too weak from laughter to move. "Re-reincarnated," he managed to finally spit out, before succumbing to a whole new fit of hysteria.

All they could do was stare. This was not like any Giles they had ever seen. This was scary. "What's his damage?" Cordelia finally asked.

"Uh... I'm not quite sure." Willow was beyond wigged now, looking at Angel for guidance.

Angel stared at the Watcher and felt a stab of pity for the man. He knew how it felt, having things happen beyond your control. "Let's just go," he finally said, heaving himself stoically to his feet.

"We're just going to leave him like this?" Xander asked, gesturing to the hiccuping Watcher.

"He'll be fine."

"What about if he does a Jimi Hendrix or something?"

"He'll be fine."

"Ooo-kay," Xander replied, looking doubtful. "But if we find him dead tomorrow because he choked on his own puke, I'm so going to kick your ass."

"Whatever."

As they got up to leave, Giles called out , "What? Leaving so shoon?"

Willow turned back. "Uh, yeah. We'll do the talking thing when you're not quite so, uh, happy."

"Quite right. I'll be back to my dour self on the morrow, never fear. Cheerio." Giles raised his recently refilled glass of Scotch in their direction, then downed it in another quick gulp.

Fleeing quickly, Willow let out a quick sigh of relief when the door slammed shut behind them, separating her from the spectacle behind it. "Ok, was it just me, or was that oogy creepier than seeing Spike and Buffy together at the Bronze?"

"Way creepier. And I can't believe I just admitted that," Xander commented dryly.

"So... back to the Bronze?"

tbc...

Ok, next chapter should be THE chapter! UST will be resolved. Thank you everyone for all of your support!! You guys are the BEST!!


Review me PLEASE!!

Halloween Chapter 8

Spike refused to tell Buffy where he was taking her, and Buffy found her nerves rocketing off into unchartered territory. Geez, she was the slayer, for crying out loud. He was a vampire. So why was she so damn nervous? That non-verbal thingy Spike was doing, he was doing it to be annoying, she finally decided. When she didn't want his input, he never shut up. But now, when she could actually use the distraction of his snarky little comments, he clammed up. Stupid, annoying, vampire. Why was she even blinding following him anyway?

Oh right, she was an idiot. Well, nothing new there. Really, she hadn't even considered NOT going with him, even though she knew this was IT. The moment. The maiden voyage. As in, no more Virgin Buffy after tonight..., and oh god, did he know that? That she was a virgin? What the hell was she doing? Did she really want this?

She took a moment to really think about it, and to check with all those in current residence of Casa de Buffy. 'Slayer Buffy, you ready to lose your virginity to Spike? You know, vampire Spike?' she asked herself derisively, because hey, if Spike wouldn't do the talking thing, she might as well talk to herself.

To her surprise, her slayer self actually responded. Huh. She didn't know that she could actually TALK to it, like it had a voice or anything. And what it said shocked the hell out of her. It practically shouted "Oh, bring that primal piece of hunky goodness on." Whoa. She had no idea her slayer-ness was such a total slut bag. Of course, it HAD been around for, like, ever. Figures it chose NOW to finally speak up, when there were all those times she had questioned herself and her Slayer stuff. Typical.

Ok, so Slayer Buffy wanted Spike. One down, two to go. Buffy asked the next contestant, 'Elizabeth Buffy, are you ready to lose your virginity to Spike, er, Willie?"

Again, not really expecting a reply, the one she received was a bit on the shocking side. Apparently, Elizabeth had lost more than a small amount of Victorian values over the last few hundred years, making with the scandalous. Not that Buffy really blamed her. If she had to wait that long to get it on with Spike, she'd probably be talking like a total ho bag too.

With realization suddenly dawning on her, she was aware that she had just gotten an answer from the last person, making it an unanimous decision. She wanted Spike. ALL of her wanted Spike.

Feeling much better now that she had taken care of that little inner turmoil, and gotten to know her internal roomies a bit in the process, a spring crept unknowingly into her step, and a small satisfied smile graced her full lips.

"What was all that about?"

"Huh? All what?"

"Looked to me like you were having a wee bit of a conversation with yourself." The look on his face surprisingly didn't border on the amused, more on the intense side. Was he always so intense? She couldn't remember.

"You're right, I was." At the look he gave her, which oddly looked slightly nervous, she hurried to assure him, " Don't worry, I'm still all with following you anywhere. Well, within reason, of course."

He stopped and flashed her that dead sexy grin that always sent a bolt of electricity right to the pit of her stomach. Was it possible for a smile to conduct electricity? Wow. Because Spike could sure be handy during a power outtage, and ok, so she was really babbling. Why was he looking at her like that?

"We're here, pet," he informed her softly, his eyes lighting up with barely restrained anticipation.

"Here?" she echoed dumbly. Ach, she had to stop with the monosyllable not-so witty replies. Yes, she did have her blonde moments, but the way she had been behaving lately, every waking moment had been a blonde moment. One looooong blonde moment. Even she was capable of better. She tore her gaze away from that supercharged, megawatt grin and looked over. Oh. A door. "Where are we again?"

"My place."

"You have a place?"

"Didn't think I'd take my girl to some flea bag motel, did ya? Of course I have a place. Where do you think I bloody hang my hat? Oh buggarin hell. Forget I just said that."

And just like that, the growing tension was broken, and the better Buffy, the one who was capable of better forms of conversation, came out to play. Leaning forward, she allowed her arms to snake around his neck while looking up into his slightly surprised face, coyly. "So, Spike. I just have to ask. DO you have a hat?"

A derisive snort erupted from his throat, as he jammed his key into the lock and threw the front door open. Ignoring the peals of laughter behind him, he grabbed her hand and jerked her over the threshold. "Better get your ass in here, Slayer."

"Well, do you?" She persisted, following Spike into his house, a grin lighting up her face.

"Not bloody answering that."

"You DO!!!" Buffy exclaimed, clapping her hands in amusement. "Can i see it?"

The glower he sent in her direction was almost comical. "Oh come on!!! I thought we were all couple-y now. No fair keeping secrets!"

"Dru got it for me last year." He stalked across the room and threw open the door to the hall closet, rummaging through its contents. Buffy could see boxes practically bursting the seams of the small closet, and briefly wondered how anything could survive being squished in such a manner. Not like she had room to talk, her closet at home wasn't exactly a contender for the Good Closetkeeping award.

"I had wondered what had possessed Dru to get me the bloody thing, then she threw such a fit when I tried to get rid of it. I just figured she was off her bird, or something. She'd make me wear the bloody thing, then sit and laugh. Thought the bitch was just making fun at my expense, yet again." Spike spoke in a distracted manner as he searched through the boxes.

"You think she knew?"

"Yeah, I think she soddin' well knew. It's why she left without much of a fuss. Just looked at me sadly and said it was time. I was too messed up from the bloody spell to argue, then when I came to my senses, I didn't really care much at all." Buffy could tell by his body language that he had found it. He threw her a sultry look over his shoulder, asking, "You ready, luv?"

A greedy smile of anticipation curved across her lips and she nodded eagerly. "Bring it on, baby."

Keeping his back to her, he slid the black Stetson on to his head, tipping the brim down in an instinctual arc to shield his eyes from non exsistent harsh rays of sunlight, before turning to face Buffy slowly.

Her breath hitched in a sudden gasp as a sudden image flickered through her mind, pale in intensity, but packing a powerful punch. She hadn't realized she had dropped back a step, as past and present collided in what she usually called her brain on a good day. There he was. Sheriff Wallopin Willie Lyndon, in the almost flesh.

The eyes were different. They should be hard flints of grey, piercing when they were pinned on her, darkening to near black when either passion or anger aroused him. The nose had been more pronounced, with multiple knobs along the bridge that were not the result of genetics, yet just added character.

But the sharp chiseled bones and the mouth were the same. Or almost. Because well, it just wasn't Spike.
 
Just as quickly as the image butt smacked her brain, it was gone; leaving her with a goofy grin splattered on her face. He was watching her, studying her face closely, his head tipped at just the slightest degree that was guaranteed to make her sigh with major swoonage.

Speaking of swoonage, it was then that she realized it. The weird feelings that had been persisting since the spell, those wonky feeling of a delicate well mannered body invasion were... gone. Cool. And even cooler? She still wanted the major display of all kinds of cheekboney goodness in front of her. it wasn't just the spell.

The goofy grin fled, to be replace by her second coy smile of the evening as she closed the distance that separated them with a sashaying tease of her hips. "Hey blondie. Let's wrassle."

Spike's thoughtful look turned into one sizzling with all kinds of promises of good things to come, and Buffy succumbed. Big time. She was all kinds of succumb girl, as Spike reached for her.

tbc...

Ok, I'm a teasing bitch. I know I promised. NEXT chapter.

a/n-many thanks to BlueIrish and Beanmommy for the plot guidance! And a HUGE bunch of thanks to the beta'ing of Spikeskat who helped this chapter you have noooooooooooooooooooooooo idea how much!!!!
Chapter 8

Firm, determined mouth lips devoured hers as his hands lifted towards her face to cup her jaw. Her lips parted without hesitation. Angling his head slightly, Spike boldly plunged his tongue inside her mouth, eager to reacquaint himself with every minute texture of her mouth.


    ‘Whoa! Was it getting hot in here?’ Buffy thought fleetingly. Her skin seemed to radiate heat as she succumbed to the intensity of his kisses, and found herself clamoring towards the cooling relief his bare skin could provide. Spike released his hold on her face and slipped his arms around her back, pulling her firmly against his hard length. She gasped into his mouth as she felt his hands pull at her top, exposing her heated flesh to the cool air. Then his fingers danced along her bare stomach, his thumbs grazing the underside of her breast.

She was so liking the vampire thing right about now. The coolness of his hands felt decidedly wicked as they trailed across her burning skin, the sharp contrast in temperatures causing goose bumps to break out along her stomach. Buffy sighed in pure pleasure as Spike's hands molded around her aching overly-full breasts, instinctively arching her body against them. What she didn't expect was for Spike to jerk back and stare suspiciously at her heaving cleavage still hidden by her shirt. Ok, so not what she thought second base would be like. She was kind of expecting something... a bit more with the lusty and less with the suspicious.
 

She was trying to figure out what his damage was, when Buffy suddenly realized what had prompted his reaction. What the HELL had she been thinking? Why had she insisted on wearing a backless halter -top tonight? Oh, right! She was an idiot. Hey, can't say she wasn't anything but consistent. Another “blonde moment” had been taken hold when she had chosen her attire for tonight -and what to wear underneath. Her mind had only seen fit to consider Spike's approval for the slip of silken absolutely-nothings she had slipped over her hips, and had totally abandoned her for other important considerations…say, of the lingerie she would need to wear to pull off the look.
 

Only one thing to do. Play it off. Because really, didn't EVERYONE wear these? Weren't they like, totally necessary pieces of fashion? Yeah, that's what she thought.
 

"What?"
 

"They're squishy." He eyed her chest warily, as if he were expecting her boobs to suddenly jump out of her shirt and attack him. Please! And he called himself a Master Vampire?
 
  
Buffy glanced down at her chest, a cross between indignation and paranoia playing across her features. Realizing that everything was in place and as it should be, she raised her head to glare at him. Her mind played over what should be happening right now: kissing, kissing was definitely of the good; then something else… Nowhere in her fantasies did Spike appear... aghast at her lingerie. This little scenario they were currently enacting wasn't supposed to be part of the seduction scene. Argh!. Why was it that nothing EVER went easy for her? Did she have a sign pasted on her forehead that said, “Hey, I’m the slayer. Let’s make things as difficult as possible. Sure I can take it.”


Pasting an outraged look upon her face, she denied heatedly, "No, they're not!"



"They don't feel right."  His pointed stare was starting to seriously piss her off, causing Buffy to go on the offensive.
 

"Spike, they're ‘sticky boobs’. Do you have a problem with my sticky boobs?" The tone of her voice just dared the vampire to have a problem with them.
 


"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" Sticky boobs? The slayer had definitely lost him now. They were squishy, not sticky, anyway.
 

Feelings of inadequacy slammed through her without thought or prejudice, flushing her cheeks the color crimson. Trying to rise above her discomfiture, she turned around so her bare back was revealed to his befuddled, probing eyes. "I'm wearing a backless shirt, see? Not exactly something I can wear a bra with. Hence, the sticky boobs."

Spike's lips quickly curled up into an amused smirk. Gesturing in the direction of her chest, he stated, "Clever thing, that. It's like a bra?"
 
 
"Yes, Spike. It's like a bra. There's a reason I called them sticky boobs, you know. Because they stick to my boobs." The sarcasm was rolling off her tongue in waves now. And she rolled her eyes at him, since her back was to him and he couldn't see what she was doing. What was he, twelve? For being on this Earth for over a hundred years, Spike wasn't too quick on the uptake.
 

"Well, let's get a gander at those little devils, shall we." That said, Spike slipped his arms around her middle and pulled Buffy back against him. She let out a slight squeak at the unexpected move, but did nothing to stop him, as his hands once again made the sinful journey under the silky confines of her halter top. The tip of his tongue slipped out between his lips the moment his hands curled around her “sticky boob”- clad breasts. Now he could discern just what she was talking about, the squishy cups that stuck to her skin were pushing her breasts up. Bloody fabulous invention.

   
Buffy's reaction was instantaneous; a delicious shiver that racked her body, as a surge of fire shot through her veins. Damn! She was getting hot all over again, as she stood there basking in the feel of Spike's cool skin against hers. She knew her heart beat was echoing the desire flooding her body, she could hear it slamming against her chest in a frantic staccato. Her acute embarrassment fled in light of the spontaneous combustion she had just experienced, unconsciously arching into the hand that cupped her unique lingerie with such practiced ease. Wow, this was more like it. No more shocked Spike, just nice, yummy Spike...


"There we are," Spike murmured, his cool breath caressing the sensitized skin at her nape. His lips continued their path to the narrow hollow above her clavicle, and Buffy allowed her head to drop back against his chest in an unconscious declaration of trust. His words whispered along her flesh as he continued placing light kisses along her exposed neck.,


"These are real nice and all, but don't think we'll be needing them."
 

Spike's hand left her aching breasts and ventured to the ties at her neck that held the skimpy top in place.
 

And that's what brought Buffy crashing back to the Land of Reality. The stark actual concept of getting naked with Spike five steps past his front door just seemed... wrong somehow. Stupid Elizabeth, maybe she wasn't as gone as she had let Buffy believe. In fact, Buffy was sure Elizabeth had to be lurking around somewhere. Because really, it couldn't be Buffy who was finding herself becoming increasingly freaked at the thought of just ripping their clothes off in the middle of the room and going at it, could it? Yep, that damn Elizabeth. Not Buffy at all, nope not a bit. And not a bit of denial in there, either.
 

In a frantic plea to put an end to the delicious ravaging, and not lose her virginity in Spike's entry way in the process, Buffy found her hands flying up to grab hold of the wrists responsible for the major de-robing. "Coffee," she blurted over her shoulder, mentally cringing at the utter lameness of that statement.
 

Spike stilled his movements, and cocked his eyebrow up in that oh so damn sexy way. "Coffee." His tone indicated his disbelief at her left field request.
 

Drawing herself up, she brought his hands down from their attempted untie-age and turned around to face him. Nodding frantically, she said, "Yep, coffee. You know, nice caffeinated stuff? I could do with something good to the last drop right about now, and everything. Kind of, uh..., tired?" Ok, she was so losing it, there was no question. If Spike laughed her out of his house, she wouldn't even blame him. And wow, it was kind of a nice house at that, which was yet one more thing at odds with Spike. She expected something dark and sinister; not this this nice sleek and moderny thing.
 

A pure evil grin slithered across his luscious lips, and Spike wrenched his arms from her grasp and dug his fingers into her hips, jerking her hard against him. There was that bulge that was way too hard and prominent to ignore digging into her stomach, and she was held tight against it. There it was again, that confusion thing that was really starting to piss Buffy off, because he felt really good against her.
 

To her chagrin, she let out a very un-cool squeak of surprise at the sudden manhandling. Why did Schitzo Buffy keep rearing her ugly unwanted head? Why was she doing the freaking thing? It's not like she was about to lose her virginity to her mortal enemy in the middle of said mortal enemy's front room, or anything. Oh yeah. That's right. She did.


Spike began to roll his hips against her in a slow, sensual way that only served to heighten her anxiety and double her confusion. "If you're looking for something that's good to the last drop, luv, I've got something for ya," he announced wickedly, brushing the wisps of hair away framing her face, as he tried to capture her eyes.
 

Oh god! He was talking about that spermage thing! Schitzo Buffy was moving in for good now, no question about it. Sperm. Spike. Spike's sperm. Spike's sperm in her. Sperm of Spike on her. Sperm. Spike. Sperm. No more virgin Buffy. Sperm. Spike.

It was then it truly hit home what she was about to do, and Buffy eyes flitted everywhere except in the direction that Spike was trying to will them, as a sudden and totally unwanted case of embarrassment slammed into her. Why the hell was she acting this way? It HAD to be Elizabeth. Yep. Guess things were never messed up enough for her; she had to have an extra side of freak with her sex.
 

Spike picked up on her body's sudden request for more blood when her pulse rate suddenly sky rocketed, and took a moment to study her. Something was off, the bint was doing the hot/cold routine. She wouldn't even look at him now.
 

Taking a step back, he silently encased her hand in his, and led her into his favorite room, where his toys were. He realized she didn't even notice his grand displays of modern technology due to the fact the floor was too bloody well interesting. Well, time for that later.

Without letting her in on his intent, Spike threw himself on the rich leather sofa, tugging her along with him so that she was positioned comfortably on his lap.
 

But, as soon as her butt came into contact with his erection, she stiffened in his embrace, and tried to scoot off his lap to sit beside him. He was getting too angry to notice her reddening cheeks.
 

Spike growled, and held on, bringing her resistant back to settle against his chest. "You're not going anywhere, so I suggest you just get soddin' well comfortable."
 

Green eyes turned around to flash at him in anger, and it was then that he saw a glimpse of the problem. The girl was nervous. He was scaring her. Bloody hell. Well, wasn't that a kick in the pants? Who would have thought that someone with as much power and raw sexual energy as his Slayer, would be nervous? And with him? Truthfully, it stunned him. But he should have realized that for all of her self confidence, she was still a young girl. Very young. Probably too young, but he wasn't about to let that stop him. Swinging his legs up on the couch in a smooth easy move, he settled to lie on his back and stretched out, easing her to lie down with him. He noticed the tautness of her body, and began stroking her hair in soothing, gentle gestures, allowing the silence to stretch out between them. This is the part they had skipped, this getting comfortable with each other part, and he was a soddin git for not realizing it.


He was rewarded when he felt the muscles in her body lose their tense vigil, and she yielded to his ministrations, scooting her lithe, warm body around so she was snuggled against his chest.

'Ok, this was better', Buffy thought, getting a little insight into why cats purred when they were being petted. Because that's what she felt like doing, oh yeah, big time. Now this was relaxing. Feeling Spike's smooth, steady strokes just... petting her. This way she could be Avoidy Girl and not look at his face either, because she wasn't doing so hot with that one. Well, not that he wasn't HOT to look at, because he so was. She just didn't want him trying to read what was going on inside her head, when SHE didn't even know what was going on inside her head.

So, he wanted her to get comfortable? Oh she was comfortable all right. He made a nice, hard, muscular pillow. As in, veeeeeery muscular. She could feel all of that nice, sculpted, muscled goodness under her, and she had a sudden urge to check them out without the black t-shirt that kept them from her prying eyes. She bet he looked wicked good naked.

And there went her uncertainty again. She wanted him, but there was that... but hanging over her shoulder. Oh yeah, she had 'but face' but good.
"How old are you, luv? Seventeen?" The deep timbre of Spike's voice broke Buffy's reverie, and her eyes sprung open. Huh? Oh, change of topic. Wow, where had that question come from? He didn't know how old she was?

"Sixteen," Buffy mumbled, her eyes drifting shut once more .

He quickly pressed a fond kiss to the top of her head before asking, "You a virgin, luv?"

Spike could feel her body heat up with embarrassment, muscles becoming taut once more. Finally, she nodded warily against his chest.

Ah. So that's what the girl's problem was. He hadn't even considered that. "So what, ya didn't fancy being deflowered in my front room?"

A nervous giggle burst forth. "Who says deflowered anymore?"

Spike growled playfully. "You mocking my words again, pet?"

Buffy lifted her face up to meet his questioning eyes, and Spike was pleased to see a glint of humor returned. "Me? I mock nothing," she insisted.

"Better not."

This was more like it, Buffy thought. She liked doing this couple-y thing, it made her decision to be with him so much easier. His next words surprised her though, yet another thing that didn't fit with the stereotype of an evil vampire. "We don't have to do this, you know. We can take our time, and all. Not planning on going anywhere," he told her gently.

It was at that moment that Buffy realized just how much she did want Spike, all of him. That lingering but was no longer, well..., lingering. Her but had just been answered. She could see the blinding sincerity of his offer, and it was so at odds with what he was supposed to be, that Buffy fell just that much deeper into that scary Pit of Love. Ok, so guess it was time to let Action Buffy take over, and put Schitzo Buffy in her place. She could do it. First step, take a deep breath. Second step... do the asking.

Alright, easier said than done. Buffy was sooo going to have a severe talk with Action Buffy, because she was being all talk and no action, dammit.

Ok, one more try. Do the take a deep breath thing, and...

"So... wanna help me take off my sticky boobs?" she managed to ask.

Luckily for him, Spike was a bit more quick on the uptake this time. His evil smirk made its way onto his face, and he asked wickedly "Got someplace in mind, pet?"

"Uh... maybe, like... your bedroom?"


 

tbc...

a/n-No sticky boobs were harmed in the writing of this story. But, I do have to thank Dee5x5 for introducing me to sticky boobs and letting me play with hers at the Oakland con. :P

a/n-I am sorry about the lack of updating lately! I guess once a week just won't cut it, will it? *sighs* I'll work on it, I promise! thanks for being patient! This is unbeta'd btw, so be warned!
Chapter 10 Part 1

Spike just stood there. For one of the first times in his long years on this earth, he found himself just too overwhelmed to move. The soft glow of moonlight filtering in through the opened drapes hanging on the windows caused the expensive master bedroom to take on an ethereal gleam. The girl before him was outlined in shadows and shimmering light, making her the most beautiful thing he had ever seen since he had been damned to the dark. But she was real enough, he only had to take a breath of air through his nose to know that much. With significant hesitation, he took the last steps towards Buffy, almost afraid to reach out, afraid he might wake up and this would be a dream.

Because there was no turning back now. There would be no excuses made. No ridiculous requests for coffee. The Slayer was going to be his. That revelation gave him pause for just the slightest moment; the impact of it finally hitting him with the force of a suicidal sledgehammer. Oh, he knew he was going to shag the girl; he was gonna be the one to pop her cherry, even. But the other thing just smacked him upside the head. Waiting to feel the expected protestation from his demon, he found the beast oddly silent on the matter, apparently having given in and accepted the inevitable.

The Slayer would belong to him. No, wait. Not the Slayer. Buffy would belong to him, he corrected.

A rush of bittersweet tenderness coursed through him as he stared into her wide, nervous eyes. Spike could see what his hesitation had cost him. Her newfound bravado had been replaced by the familiar tenseness, blaringly obvious in the rigid set of her spine, and tightly crossed arms. Well then, that wouldn't do. That wouldn't do at all.

Buffy watched as a virtual symphony of emotions danced across Spike's face. How she had ever thought he was indifferent, she had no idea. But damn it, he was making her nervous. Here she was, all ready to be Action Buffy, and he was being Staring Spike. Unconsciously, she folded her arms over her chest in a defensive manner. Too busy wondering how she always got herself into these things, she missed the blinding spark of possessiveness that suddenly consumed him, rapidly followed by his trademark smirk. She had no warning before he suddenly reached out and wrapped his hands around her biceps, and pulled her sharply to him, pancaking her sticky boobs against the solid wall of granite known as Spike's chest.

Well, ok. Now they were getting somewhere.

Firm lips found hers, forcing her mouth open as his impatient tongue swept in, desperate to get a taste. Buffy melted into him, a small, muffled moan escaping as her body relaxed and succumbed to the pleasure that Spike was able to stir within her with merely a simple kiss. Ok, maybe not much with the 'mere'. More like holy-crap-worthy. Oh yes, no doubt about it. A holy-crap worthy kiss that turned her muscles to jelly and sent all her brain cells on a temporary retreat to the Land of Huh?

Spike slid his hands down the length of her body before gripping her hips, moving her around so her back was flush against the front of his body, deliberately mimicking their embrace of earlier that had led to the ridiculous coffee request.

Buffy let out a mewl of disappointment at the profound loss of his lips on her own, but allowed herself to remain pliant in his arms. She quickly forgot her disappointment when he sensually brushed her hair to the side to reveal her neck, and began ghosting kisses along her sensitive flesh. Her eyelids fluttered closed as a pool of desire shot through her, a delicious ache building in the pit of her stomach.

"I do believe this is where we left off, eh, pet?" he whispered into her ear, following with a gentle nibble to the lobe, careful to avoid the adornments of earring she wore.

Buffy nodded helplessly, her ass instinctively grinding against Spike's erection, slowly circling her hips to increase the friction. She gave a feminine smile of satisfaction at hearing Spike's sudden hiss at her bold actions. One strong arm suddenly wrapped itself around her lower abdomen, fingers splayed against the taut expanse of exposed skin. He drew her tighter against him, his own body matching the rhythm she had set. Whoa boy. No need to watch Dirty Dancing anymore. This was Dirty Dancing in the dirtiest, most delicious sense possible.

"Gonna take your top off now, ok?"

He watched for signs of the returning anxiety that had ruined their moment earlier, but was rewarded by a helpless nod. 'Good, just the response he was looking for', he thought smugly, his dexterous fingers making quick work of freeing the knot that kept the ties together. Buffy's breath hitched while she waited, all senses on heightened alert. Then, ever so slightly, a gentle breeze of cool air collided with her heated flesh as Spike slipped her halter top from her body. The contrast of coolness on her flesh suddenly reminded her she had a vampire behind her, and a sudden primal feeling of wantonness flooded her.

A small tortured groan by the evil vampire in question when he saw her exposed before fueled her self confidence, and whatever nervousness was hanging around decided to take off for good. Desire was here, and it really wanted to play. A lot.

She felt him move away her, and Buffy experienced a brief second of loss when he removed his hands from her body, but her suffering was short-lived. She was quickly jerked back against a nice chest. Oh, a now nice, firm, naked chest. She was so for the clothes removal goodness. She was liking this, this 'standing with her back to evil' thing. Her top off, neck bared, completely at a vampire's mercy. Oh yeah, she was liking this little scenario a whole lot.

Spike hands found their way back to her sticky boob clad breasts, gently cupping his palm over each succulent mound, and her entire body arched into his greedy hands, her head falling back against his chest. It was about time he addressed her sticky boobs, dammit. And why did this feel so much like deja vu?

Spike watched her face intently, wondering if she knew the extent of passion on display. "Those soddin things of yours ready to come off yet, eh?" Spike's voice was a passion roughened whisper, as he trailed tiny kisses along the bare expanse of throat exposed to him. How easily she trusted him, Spike marveled. From the signs of her body, he knew there was no conflict regarding the worship he was placing upon her neck, and he dared to bite down ever so gently.

His lips curled up in a wry smile when he felt the minute stiffening of her body, and he reluctantly backed off. Gently turning her to face him, he reached his hand up, shallowly cupping the soft curve of her cheek with his palm. "You ok?"

Buffy nodded mutely, lost in the intensity of his eyes. The moonlight afforded a glowing cast to his pale, supernatural skin, yet another reminder that he wasn't entirely human. Well, neither was she, dammit. So there. And besides, she didn't even want human anyway, she now knew that without any doubt.

And she was so getting sick of him getting 'hot and heavy,' then stopping with the hot and heavy, and doing the sweet thing. It was driving her batty. Wasn't he supposed to be attending to something else about now? She was the virgin, dammit.

Glancing down at her chest, she peered back up at Spike through lowered lashes, noticing that his eyes had followed her, and now were rivited to the sight of her cleavage. She could practically see desire flooding into his eyes, and a feminine smirk made its way to her face. Well, that was easy.

"Why don't you just ask them if they're ready to come off," Buffy remarked saucily, her hands suddenly sneaking around to get a feel of Spike's ass. Ohh, it was a nice one all right, she decided, testing the firmness. Ok, so she'd always had a little obsession with his ass. It was safe to admit it now, she supposed. Maybe it was because it was always hidden from view, and Buffy just couldn't stand that. She knew there was just a perfect ass going to waste behind that long leather duster of his, and that was just all kinds of wrong. He had been hiding some serious cheeks underneath that coat. Cheeks that looked drool worthy in jeans and felt REALLY good in her hands. That was almost a stakeable offense in its own right, she decided.

Spike was too caught up in the sight of Buffy's almost bare breasts to notice her sudden preoccupation with his ass, as she tried peering around his body to get a good look at it. "Eh. So that's what those things look like," he announced suddenly.

Huh? What? Oh, the sticky boobs, Buffy realized, and she took reluctant hands off the succulent globes of ass and took a tiny step back. A mischievous grin worked its way onto her face as she trailed her hands up her body until she had the edges of her sticky boobs between her fingers.

"So... you want them...off?" Buffy asked, her voice teasing and husky.

This time it was Spike's turn to nod mutely, fixated on Buffy's teasing, his hands itching to get their hands on her bare breasts.

"You... really want them off?" Buffy began to peel them off her skin achingly slow, then paused for dramatic effect.

A primal growl reverberated around the room, and Buffy's eyes widened with shock. Holy crap, she had done that?

tbc...

A/n-VERY AWESOME THANKS TO SPIKESKAT FOR THE INCREDIBLE BETA JOB!! Yeah, that DID have to be in capitals. :P And thanks to Rae and Beanmommy for being my plot guidance counselors. *squish*
chapter 10b
aka-Continuing Adventures of Sticky Boobs (just for you Kari)
"You... really want them off?" Buffy began to peel the sticky boobs off her skin with an aching slowness, taking the time to pause for dramatic effect.

A primal growl reverberated around the room, and Buffy's eyes widened with shock. Holy crap, she had done that?

Ok, Buffy, mental note to self. Spike wasn't the type who liked to be teased.

With another low savage growl, Spike scooped Buffy up, and threw her roughly on the bed. He loomed over her as she lay in front of him on the bed, his hands finding their way to the waistband of her pants, and with an impatient tug, he made quick work of divesting the tight leather pants from her body.

Buffy knew she should probably be a little concerned about this abrupt savageness Spike was displaying, but... wow. The sudden burst of moisture that flooded her panties told her a different story. It told her that she LIKED this primal display.

As in really liking the more Savage-y Spike.

Oh, did she ever. Her slayer sense was firing all right, but in an almost erotic way, like somewhere deep inside her, it recognized that he belonged to her. She didn't know if it was her slayer sense, Elizabeth or whoever. And right about now, she didn't really care.

Her skin seemed to hum under his hungry stare, and Buffy watched as the gold glints flickered in those dark, dangerous depths, while her pants were tossed carelessly over his shoulder. His ravenous gaze was now glued to the feast of skin presented before him, as he moved to put one knee on the bed beside her.

Buffy saw one hand reaching to ensnare her wrists, and in a fit of pure desperation, she managed to evade his grasp. Another low warning growl rumbled deliciously from his throat, and she stared mesmerized as the amber glints in his eyes intensified. Oh yeah. She liked him doing the growling thing all right.

"Your pants," she managed to gasp, weakly gesturing in the direction of his strained denim. His very strained denim. Have to hand it to Levi Strauss, she thought. They sure knew what they were doing with their 'industrial strength' denim. Guaranteed to withstand even the biggest hard-on known to man. Or vampire, for that matter. Not that she really had any means of comparison or anything. But hey, she was impressed. As in...

Spike impatiently pushed his jeans down his hips, allowing his erect cock to spring free. He was too busy trying to get the bloody things off-in the most rapid manner possible-to notice the look of complete shock that became instantly glued to Buffy's face as she got an up close and personal look at the impressive length and girth of Spike’s..

Oh. My. God. Her jaw hung open as her eyes remained glued to the cock that seemed to stand at attention and…damn, the thing was twitching now…as if it were horning in on her, like some kind of heat-seeking missile. She started to repeat her silent mantra in earnest now. There was no way in hell that… Spike’s thing… erm, Spike’s enormous... thing. ''Ok Buffy, if you're going to have it inside of you, you should be able to say it,' she heard a voice lecture in her head. Oh my god! What the hell was her mother doing, talking in her head? At a time like this??? A stern look suddenly came to mind, as Buffy pictured her mom giving her best 'no-nonsense' look..

Fine, all right! She could so say it. Penis. As in HUGE penis. Or more like 'hung like a freakin stallion' penis. Oh my god, was it even going to fit?????

Finally managing to free himself of the tight confines of his jeans, Spike replaced his knee beside her hip on the bed, his eyes never taking in Buffy’s shocked expression, so intent was he on resuming his exploration of her body. His hands eagerly roamed the taut, sleekness of her abdomen. He leaned over her to begin a wet trail of worship starting at the edge of the silken panties she wore, before beginning his path north His lips and tongue hungrily caressed every inch of her skin, and Buffy soon forgot her new obsession with the size of his fully erect penis. Her eyelids fluttered shut as she became caught up in the sensations he was creating with his tongue. A blaze of fire began racing its way through her veins, and she felt an overwhelming urge to feel every bit of his skin against hers. Like right NOW.

So caught up by the desire Spike was steadily stroking with this touch, she never noticed when her sticky boobs were finally removed, and flung carelessly aside. She did; however, feel the cool lips that suddenly closed around one painfully erect nipple A gasp broke free from her chest, when a firm tongue worried the budded tip gently, followed by a tortured moan as his teeth closed around the pert bud as he bit down with the most tender of nibbles.


Her familiar mantra was back. Oh. My. God. Over and over it sounded in her brain, as a keen sense of pleasure she never even known existed wracked her body. Yes, she had done the masturbation thing. She had made herself come, but Oh... My... God... It was nothing even remotely CLOSE to how Spike was making her feel at this very minute.

When his hand slipped between her legs, gently prodding them apart, there was no hesitation on her end. Her legs fell open, granting him the access he craved. She was like a spring time flower, and Spike was her honey bee. And damned if he wasn't coming to collect the goods. She found she was MORE than ready to hand them over too... damned if she wasn't!

Spike was trying to rein in his desire, trying to remind himself that this was all new for the girl. But his body didn't seem to want to listen; it just wanted to take possession, to consume every beautiful inch of her more than willing body. When she had taunted him with her bloody sticky boobs, his demon had seen red and tried to take over.

He was a right lucky bastard he hadn't scared her away. In fact, if his nose served him, she'd rather enjoyed the switch of control…his aggression and domination. That was something to be filed away for further consideration at a later date. But, for now, his demon had been relegated to a submissive role, allowing Spike to resume control. His demon wasn’t happy with this turn of events. Spike, however, was determined to do this HIS way.

When one small, hesitant hand reached out to encircle his engorged cock, he almost came right then and there. Her warm palm almost seared him with its touch, the tentative gesture making him a lot hornier than if she had grabbed hold of his jutting shaft and suddenly commenced with a vigorous hand job. He squeezed his eyes shut tight in an effort to hold on to the slim thread of control he was managing to maintain. He'd done virgins before, but he'd always killed 'em afterwards. It had been a game to him, see if he could make them die with a smile on their face.

That wasn't the case here. This girl was his, even if she didn't know it yet.

"Is that... this... ok?"

Spike opened his eyes to see a set of slightly nervous eyes peering in his direction. Crawling the rest of the way up her succulent body, he smashed his lips to hers in a heart felt kiss, communicating his desires and feelings through actions.

"Anything you do to me is ok, luv. Remember that."

Buffy smiled in response, her confidence growing at her lover’s fervent words. Her other hand moved to explore the hard terrain of Spike's chest, something she had been dying to do. And another: oh wow/ With a holy shit thrown in for good measure. Feeling the strong, firm flesh under her fingers made her greedy for more, and she reluctantly let go of his erection to splay both hands across his chest, ghosting her finger tips down over his abdomen, feeling each and every compact muscle he possessed in his spectacular torso.

Spike embarked on his own exploration, acquainting himself fully with her body. When he reached her silken thong panties, he easily tore them from her hips and was amused that once again she didn't even seem to notice.

That spoke volumes.

His fingers danced between her legs once more, and his biceps were gripped in a tight vise, as Buffy's breath hitched. Letting his index finger part the golden curls, he slipped it through the succulent wet folds that were waiting for him.

Christ, she was wet.

For that, he was grateful, knowing that she may have an unpleasant time when he first eased into her. He watched her face, marveling at the expressive displays of passion he found there.

And it was all for him.

Her hips began bucking into his hands, instinctively searching for something to ease the ache that was steadily building, as he pumping his finger in and out of her. Spike knew what it was that her body craved and he circled his thumb over her swollen clit. Her body arched towards his hand, unconsciously seeking to increase the friction, pleasing Spike with her responsiveness to his ministrations.

++++
Ok, she was soooo going to stake him. No... wait. Not yet... After. Buffy decided she would stake him after. He was deliberately teasing her, and that so wasn't cool.

Buffy couldn't control the moan that escaped when his fingers began working a little bit of magic in her private areas. Ugh. Her mother's voice sounded in her ear again, lecturing her once more about the use of proper terminology since she was doing the "deed".

Fine. Clitoris, Vagina. Sex. Penis. Did she miss anything? And her mom was in her head during sex, because.....?

An orgasm snuck up on her and totally rocked her world, causing a burst of intense color to explode behind her closed eyelids as her release caused her body to tremble in response. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her body, and... oh god, was that HER screaming?

She drifted back to awareness to find Spike smirking with smug satisfaction in her direction.

"Shut up." But her demand lacked the necessarily conviction, coming across as easy banter between lovers while she lay there boneless in the aftermath. Spike sprawled out languidly next to her, his erection pressing urgently into her hip.

Spike ignored her breathless reproach, as he lowered his lips to hers for another one of his famous holy-crap-worthy kiss, before settling himself between her parted legs.

Buffy could feel his humongous cock pressed up against her inner thigh, and her earlier fears returned. How in the world was that going to fit? She'd seen pictures of naked men; she and Willow had done the internet porn searches and all that. But this... Spike's penis was in, like, a class of its own. It had to be. It might even be a contender for the Guinness Book of World's Records or something... Did they even have a category for the biggest cock known to man? And if so, who got to do the measuring?

"Relax." His voice was low and soothing, jarring her from her thoughts before hysteria could set in. His lips moved away from her ear to trail a path along her neck.

"I am relaxed," Buffy lied, knowing as soon as the words left her mouth how ridiculous they sounded. Luckily, Spike didn't call her on it.

Spike grabbed his cock and slid it up and down along her opening, coating the head with her copious spendings before positioning himself at her entrance.

Already he could feel her heat searing him, and Buffy becoming even more rigid beneath him.

"Don't worry, luv, I won't hurt you. Not deliberately anyway."

"I know." The conviction in Buffy's whispered voice stunned him, and he allowed a smirk to emerge.

"So, Buffy, " he began, licking a trail up and down the side of her neck.

"Hmmm?"

"You going to let me bite you?"

Buffy's eyes flew open and she looked at him in shock, and that's when he made his move, thrusting his hips forward, and burying himself within her tight sheath. He had felt her maidenhead tear, and kept himself as still as possible, while he allowed her body to adjust to his sudden invasion.
.

"Ow!" Buffy cried, her arms going around him to pull him closer rather than pushing him away, as he had feared. "You did that distraction thing, didn't you? It hurts!"

Spike tipped his head to pepper her face with tender kisses. "Shhh... I'll hold real still like, then when it stops hurting, we'll give it a go. I'm sorry I hurt you, luv."

Buffy blinked back her tears, as she nodded, her grip on Spike tightening painfully. That was sneaky what he had done, asking if he could bite her, then doing that. Popping her cherry.

Besides, he already had bitten her.

He had said she was 'tasty.'

Please. She was a tasty little morsel all right. In his dreams. But... it had felt kind of good...

And that was when she realized something else was feeling kind of good. Damned if her vampire hadn’t completely disregarded what he had just told her and started moving. But, oh… it was really starting to feel good. Very good, in fact. That distraction thing really worked.
tbc
*ducks and hides*

But hey! I updated! go me. And I'm working on a chapter of Dreams and Desotos also.

   A/N major thanks to Megan for the beta job!!
 chapter 11
Spike kept his movements slow and shallow, barely keeping a hold of the slim thread of control as it was. He knew he should be keeping still, letting the girl get used to his girth, but her heat and scent were driving him insane.

When he felt her hesitant attempts to meet his thrusts, he lifted his head from her luscious throat and looked into her eyes, his hands coming up to lovingly cup her face as he ghosted kissed along her jaw.

""You ok, baby?" he whispered, his hips picking up intensity as her actions spurred him on.

She gave a dazed nod, her eyes fluttering closed, her own movements becoming more sure, more intense. A breathy moan escaped past slightly parted lips, and Spike swooped down to capture her inviting mouth, his tongue thrusting inside brutally as he began to move with a frenzied pace.

He almost lost it when he felt her strong legs wrap around his hips, locking him in tight against her, drawing him even deeper inside her slick passage. "Oh fuck..." he groaned, the muscles of his neck strained and corded against the intensity of his passion.

He felt her coy smile. "Yeah, kinda thought that's what we were doing here," she teased.

A low rumble left his chest as he gripped her in a punishing embrace, one hand moving down to cup her ass, as he lifted her pelvis up to give his penetration more depth.

Oh god, she felt good; her heat was filling him, warming him for the first time in... forever. Wait, he didn't want to hurt her.

"This ok?" He remembered to ask, managing to put a slight halt to his brutal thrusts.

"Yes! Oh god, don't stop..." Buffy cried, her fingers curling against his back, unknowingly breaking the smooth skin, causing blood to well up where her nails had gouged. If Buffy thought Spike's hands were talented, it was nothing compared to what his... penis... was making her feel. That was one talented body appendage.

The slight pain mixed with the sudden scent in the air of his blood mixed with her virgin offerings was Spike's final undoing. Without conscious thought, his face shifted and he directed his now elongated canines into the delicate skin of her neck, nearly howling with pleasure as her potent blood burst and swam into his mouth.

 Oh... My... God... Buffy thought frantically as she felt the slight sting of his teeth pierce through her skin. Spike was biting her. Why was he biting her?

She felt the moist suction of his mouth, and a long flow of her blood was drawn from the twin punctures that he had made, and suddenly her body convulsed, followed by a pleasure so intense, Buffy nearly cried from the shock of it. Every muscle was suddenly infused with a powerful warmth, and she found herself arching off the bed, instinctively tightening all of her muscles in response to the waves of ecstasy that were taking over every fiber of her being. It was the most incredible thing she had ever experienced.

It was the last straw. Keeping his fangs deeply imbedded in the column of the throat he had just marked, his balls drew up and tightened almost painfully before releasing his copious load deep within the warm depths of his Slayer.

She was now his. Heart, body, and soul. It came to him with blinding clarity with each convulsing jerk of his hips, that this was meant to be. He couldn't have fought it if he wanted to.

They belonged together.

Slowly, they both drifted down from the intense paradise they had both just experienced, and Spike couldn't help the smile that was plastered on his face as he pulled his fangs out of her throat, licked the wounds and gazed down at Buffy's dazed face.

"Wow." Buffy's incredible green eyes were wide, her breath coming in rapid bursts.

"Yeah," Spike agreed softly, his hand coming up to trace the delicate contours of her cheek.

"You bit me."

"Yeah, I did."

"Oh. Ok." Buffy finally blinked, and smiled shyly.

"I love you, you know that, right?" Spike suddenly found himself telling her, resting his weight on his forearms.

She went wide eyed again. "You... do?" Spike nodded hesitantly, knowing he should feel like a git for saying such poncy words to her, but knowing they were the right words to say.

"Wait, is it YOU, or Willie, or William, or whoever else you have in there?" Buffy asked, her voice laden with suspicion.

A wry grin covered the gorgeous face above her. "Just me in here now, luv. Our little shag seems to have done the trick for I don't know what exactly, but it's just me."

Relief spread across Buffy face. "Oh, uh... good." Her eyes widened again. "And you love me?"

Spike chuckled, liking the shy nervousness Buffy was displaying almost as much as he loved the fiery vixen she had just been in bed. With a suddenness that had Buffy squealing, he had them flipped over so she was cradled against his chest, his arms wrapped lovingly around her.

"Yeah, pet. I do." Spike whispered, leaning over to lick at the swollen, red marks on her neck.

Buffy gasped at the bubbly sensation that action caused in the pit of her stomach. "Why does that feel so weird?"

"Because you are mine now." His declaration was made in a matter-of fact tone as he drew her closer to him, the sensation of her warm body against his being the most perfect feeling he had felt in his entire prolonged existence.

"Oh." Buffy knew she resent this, rebel against any thought of being owned, especially after doing the deed with the dead, but... it just felt right. Instead, she curled up closer against the smooth, hard chest she was laying against, unable to help the happy sigh that escaped her lungs.

"I love..." Suddenly her attention was distracted from the monumental announcement she was about to make. "Spike?"

One scarred eyebrow tipped up in response to the questioning look on her face.

Buffy pointed upward. "Why is there a sticky boob on the ceiling???"

the end
a/n Thank you for following me through this fic!!! Sabdhyl, I hope you like it!! It took me long enough to finish it, I know!!!