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You went and reviewed so nicely for me so I had ta give you some more.. (I'm so your bitch ;p)


Chapter Ten ~ Good Vibrations

“ I love the colorful clothes she wears, and the way the sunlight plays upon her hair.
I hear the sound of a gentle word, on the wind that lifts her perfume through the air.
I’m picking up good vibrations. She’s givin’ me excitations –
Good, good, good - Good Vibrations…”

~ The Beach Boys


Spike sauntered casually through the warrens of “the Underground Railroad”, as he had come to somewhat affectionately call the vast network of sewer and electrical tunnels that ran literally everywhere beneath the city.

*You’d think someone had a bloody plan or something…*

He thought with a smirk. He was feeling cocky today, chock full of swagger. It must be that gorgeous dream. If he concentrated he could almost smell the scent of her sweet, wet…Oh, better watch it. Anymore of that and he’d be hard again. It wouldn’t do to stroll into a Scooby meeting with a sodding great stiffy now would it?

“ Yes, hello all. Don’t mind my 10-inch erection now. Just go on about your business.”

He chuckled, imagining the scene. He wouldn’t mind scandalizing the women really. But the whelp already gave him the eye overmuch as it is. That boy would do well to just come out and get it over with. Spike snickered maliciously; he’d have to remember to use that one on Harris later.

Today was gonna be great, he could just tell.

He’d had a brilliant patrol with Buffy – a revealingpatrol really. The scent of her arousal had told him everything he needed to know. He smiled broadly, remembering. Then there was that fantastic bloody dream: the shag of a lifetime with the Slayer. It quadrupled his high from the night before, made him feel like ANYTHING was possible. Whatever he wanted was right within his reach. Oh, he knew not to get too cocky where the Slayer was concerned – ‘cause look how that always turned out (usually with him gettin’ a solid ass kicking.) But still, he felt she was warming up to him now, and it was all just a matter of time.

*Wonder what hot little ensemble she’ll be wearin’ tonight, eh?*

He thought, lighting up a smoke. You had to appreciate a girl who fought in miniskirts, leather pants and halter-tops. Not to mention those sassy little boots. Nothing like a roundhouse done in heels. No wonder he loved her. She even made turtlenecks look sexy, the way she wore them – all tight, huggin’ every curve of her lithe little body. Spike sighed, deeply lustful. Any more thoughts like that and he’d have to hit wank number two for the morning. Not that it was a bad idea if he was gonna be dealing with Buffy tonight. Just the scent of her was enough to get him going, and when she touched him- even casually, it never failed to make him hard. Many’s the night he’d had to come straight home and ‘relieve the tension’ after patrolling. And the silly chit had no idea the effect she had on him. He thought this might just be a blessing – at least for now, look how crazy she’d gotten last night at just the mention of any feelings for him. He paused, pondering this. His eyes went wide with comprehension.

*Bollocks, last night! She was in a right tizzy wasn’t she?*

He’d forgotten about that – Buffy was seriously brassed off when she left. Spike felt his good mood begin to flag. Odds were, she was now harboring a grudge. Shite! Why couldn’t he ever learn to keep his buggerin’ mouth shut? Now he had an angry Slayer on his hands, when all he really wanted was a hot one. Hot for him preferably – but he’d take what he could get. But wait…that’s right- she was hot last night wasn’t she? And for him as well. Well, then, that was a bit of alright. He started walking again, taking a deep drag. Maybe she wasn’t as upset as she seemed. She was just covering, and when she realized that she really wanted him she’d come around wouldn’t she? Yeah, she’d come around –

“And stake me right through the bloody heart.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. What in buggering Hell had he been thinking? Oh yes, his dick had been hard…

*Well that answers that question. No thinking involved.*

Dream or no dream Buffy was never going to let herself get involved with him. She outwardly detested him – told him he was beneath her how many times now? And at least part of her actually believed that. She’d bought into Angel’s whole shtick about souls and nobility, and broody blabbity bullshite.

“Sodding Great Poof.”

He shook his head frowning, then threw his cigarette to the ground. He began pacing back and forth in the confines of the tunnel. And now she thought he couldn’t be any more than he was, and she would believe that he couldn’t love her. And she definitely didn’t believe that she could love him – she barely admitted to liking him. So could she stake him? Work herself into a big enough snit over her feelings and his feelings and …oh yeah, she could definitely stake him.

“Fuck.”

*What the hell am I gonna do now?*

Spike was not at all prepared for the sensation that abruptly accosted him. He caught his breath as an erotic shiver wracked his body. His cock hardened instantly. It was as if the full force of his dream hit him all at once. My God – he could almost smell her, feel her, taste her…

“Christ! What the fuck was that?”

Whatever it was, it was bloody marvelous. His skin felt alive with sensation - the silk of his shirt, the rub of his jeans against his bare skin, the leather of his coat against his neck. And he could feel the blood pulsing into his prick like never before. The thing was like a dowsing rod and it was pointing straight at Buffy. Just the thought of her was driving him mad. He was half tempted to have a toss in the tunnel right now he was so aroused. But he was already running late.

“Sod it all.”

He cursed ruefully. There was no way he was gonna miss an opportunity to spend time with Buffy. Especially when he’d have a chance to be useful to her. He stared down at the bulge in his pants.

“ Sorry, Mate – yer just gonna have to wait.”

Vowing to behave himself he made his way to the Magic Box, his penis helpfully pointing the way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Spike entered the basement of the shop cautiously. Listening intently for any indication of an irritable Buffy. Last thing he wanted to come face to face with was a grudge-bearing Slayer. His desire to see her, even a glimpse of her was too strong to keep him away though. That delicious feeling had propelled him here, almost of its own volition. And now that he was near her, the sound of her voice, the tickle of her scent in his nose called to him. He could no more leave without seeing her, than he could dance naked in the sunshine.

He paused at the foot of the stairs listening. Ah, laughter. That’s good. She probably wouldn’t stake him then. Spike slipped quietly through the back door that concealed the basement and strolled in with feigned indifference. He purposefully did not look at Buffy. Best to play it cool, act nonchalant. She didn’t seem to register his presence in any threatening way, just kept chatting with her friends. He leaned back against the counter adopting a casual stance and shuffled in his pocket for a smoke. Expertly whipping his Zippo open he leaned in to light it. Girl didn’t even notice. Maybe she’d cooled her jets a bit then.

“ Spike. Light that thing in here and DIE.”

Buffy glared at him with the fire of a thousand suns.

Or maybe not.

He made note of the special emphasis she’d put on “die” and flicked his lighter shut again. Nope, her jets were red-hot.

*Shite.*

The worst part of it, was that he was so distracted by her presence that he could hardly bring himself to worry about his own welfare. He was much more concerned with how it would affect his chances with her, or at least his chances of spending time with her.

*Bleedin' twonk.*

He cursed himself. He slid his cigarette back into the pack and pocketed them again. Satisfied, Buffy went back to patently ignoring his existence. He sighed. If only it mattered. If her indifference made even the slightest dent in his affections for her. It didn’t. Even now he was completely captivated. But he could only blame himself. Spike never did anything half-assed. He had decided he was in love with her, and now there was no help for it. She owned him body and soul.

Well, if he was to be Love’s bitch – at least she was a pretty mistress. He smirked to himself. She looked beautiful today (and when did she not?) She was wearing a sheer peasant top with a soft golden yellow and cream pattern on it, underneath he could see a silky camisole hugging the curves of those lovely breasts. Dammit, was she trying to kill him? Did the girl ever wear a bra?? He could see the smooth pebbles of her hardened nipples clearly. No wonder Harris was such a fan. The girl was built to tease – and she didn’t even know it. That was a good part of her appeal actually. Buffy had no idea how damn pretty she was.

*Good thing too. If she got any cockier I’d have to kill her m'self.*

He smiled. He adored her swagger actually. That cool self-assurance had drawn him to her from the beginning. She’d never been afraid, not once. Every move she made told him clearly: “prepare to meet thy doom.” Little did he know then precisely what form that doom would take. Some nights lately, he almost wished she’d just gone ahead and staked him. Buffy smiled winningly at Xander and brushed her hair back over her shoulder, sending a waft of her perfume Spike’s way. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, savouring it. Something sweet and slightly spicy today. White Ginger Lily it was. He’d seen the bottle in her room just the other night when he’d been…(ahem)... collecting. Mixed with her natural scent it was devastating.

He shifted his once-again rising erection under the cover of the duster. Damn, sometimes she didn’t even have to touch him anymore. Just a smile, a look or one tiny whiff of her and he was hard as a rock. It seemed his little obsession was getting worse. He wondered idly how long it would be before it killed him. Or before he wanted to kill himself.
Something had to happen soon.

He was this far from starting up the bloody poetry.





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