Chapter Twenty-Two
Buffy stumbled weakly from the bed, shaking uncontrollably in relief that Spike had let her up. Her energy had seeped out of her the second he’d retracted his fangs, just as her will to resist had the moment he’d bitten her. She didn’t know where her boundaries were anymore, and every time she felt anger well up and the little girl inside want vengeance, she looked into clear sky blue eyes and saw the man behind the monster—the man that loved her and hurt for his lack of control, for his need for her.
He’d let her go and seemed to collapse in on himself. Almost as if taking her energy had depleted his own. Somehow, Buffy could see it all unemotionally—coldly—and supposed she understood better than her friends could the situation Spike was in. Could identify that primal animal inside that thought of self-preservation above all else, and only shifted enough to let the love of a girl overwhelm the senses as soon as the power buzzed through the system.
His eyes expressed more wounded hurt than Buffy could deal with just yet. She bled over her heart and the base of her pulse, and her core burned with the touch of adulthood. She was irrevocably changed and yet it was without permission, without giving and that rocked her confidence more than anything else could.
She couldn’t look at him and feel hate. God, what was wrong with her? Xander was right—nothing he did now could be judged with a firm mind, not when she knew he’d been almost drained dry and had probably reverted wholly to his demon just to survive. Wouldn’t that be the choice of anyone if they had it? What human could go through such an experience and not break? There were moments he saw her and knew her—she was grateful for those moments, and so very eager to have them back. To have what they had back.
She needed to blow her nose bad so, on shaky legs, she made her way up the stairs and to a different world—one where kids watched TV and talked about school dances and the boys that took them. One where ice cream was plentiful in the freezer and mom’s argued about the lack of homework being done. Normal—that thing Buffy could never be again, and as her marks burned angrily on her neck, she wondered if she’d ever even had a chance.
Before Willow or Xander could focus on her, she passed like a blur and raced upstairs to her room, quickly shedding the torn and useless shirt from her naked torso and donned a turtleneck sweater that covered the marks. She felt cold, her body still shivering violently in reaction even as she refused to let the sobs free of the prison of her throat. Her hand hovered over her brush for a second before she snatched it up and began running it enthusiastically through her hair, her bottom lip giving into the wobbles as strands of hair cracked and floated up off her back.
Staring at the door, Buffy took one step before shrivelling in on herself. She couldn’t see them—not yet. Delaying further, she stepped out of her slacks and panties and flinched at the blood she found in the crotch. That was the last straw. Buffy dismissed the façade of strength and flopped on the floor beside her bed, vision blurring red as she clutched the loss of her hymen in her hands.
He’d pushed her along the trail to womanhood and he wasn’t even aware of it. He’d taken something she would have given him if he’d asked—eventually. She had no doubts that the way she’d felt about him would have led them here, and despite everything, she still trusted him. Still wanted nothing more but to hold him and ask him to help them deal with Jesse and the Master.
She needed to get him well, needed to fix this feeling inside and make it right. Take something of herself back. It was important that she reclaim her power. She wanted this, she did. No one else might understand, but she was ready, and she knew it was now and not when he was staring at her with love and sadness. It needed to be now, before he was back and blamed himself for hurting her—for breaking her. Back and saying no. It was too late for no. Too late for her to go back. The stain in her panties said so.
She’d show him she wasn’t broken, and then tonight they’d sleep.
She just had to get rid of Willow and Xander first.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
“How did the call to Giles go? Is he on his way over?” Willow looked nervously from the kitchen to the front doorway, almost as if she expected Giles to just appear from nowhere and help them deal with some monumental issues that were building up out of their control. He should know what to do even more than Buffy—if Buffy wasn’t hurting and losing her way. He’d known of this kind of life for ages longer than them, probably for as many years as they’d been alive, so it was his experience they needed now to guide them through this ever expanding mess.
“I learned a really important lesson, Will.” Xander stared at her, his mind temporarily numb with wisdom.
Willow arched a brow while darting another glance at the kitchen leading to the basement, showing her hurry to have something happen soon. “What?”
“There’s no making of the sense if you call the Gilesmeister while he’s in the library and poring over books. I could hear him reading, and it was not a sound of the good.”
Willow grew alarmed and gripped Xander’s forearm tight. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“It means, he was too preoccupied with whatever he was reading to pay attention to me while I was all with the talking.” Xander smiled sadly at Willow’s gaping look of horror. “Rude, huh? I’d never be that rude when the world was about to go to Hell.”
“So, what are we going to do?” She’d finally given in to tears and Xander felt that dwindling ball of guilt swell back up and nearly choke him. The pitch of her voice stoked high with fear was a sucker punch to the gut and he had no words, no platitudes to offer to get them through this. There was no turning to Buffy, because she was drowning faster than they were. If only he hadn’t asked Spike to turn Jesse…
“I-I guess we deal. Help Buffy and feed Spike, but mind your fingers—that one bites.” Xander chuckled to let off some nervous energy and Willow offered a very small watery smile.
When Buffy darted past them for the stairs, the edges of her torn shirt flapping around her braced arms, the room seemed to get darker. Xander felt incapable of filling in the silence and so the two friends sat awkwardly, sharing nervous glances between the intent stares they aimed toward the kitchen.
Time passed and it wasn’t until they’d tried to renew the stilted conversation that Buffy returned. She descended the stairs slowly, her eyes hollow and red from crying, her body snug neck to toe in warm sweaters and pants even as the shivers still remained evident.
“I can handle Spike,” she said and walked through their shock into the kitchen. She took out a packet of blood and slit the top before pouring it into a coffee mug.
Willow stepped forward and took the mug from Buffy’s shaking hands and placed it in the microwave before pressing random numbers and staring transfixed at the light until the blood began to bubble and spit.
“Oops!” she exclaimed before switching it off and swinging the door open. Transferring it to the counter, they all ignored the crusty edge that presented itself.
“Are you sure, Buff? ‘Cause we’re here for you. We can do this together, and besides, it might not be so safe—”
“Really,” she interrupted, “its okay. He was different when I came back up, starting to come out of whatever it was he was stuck in. Everything’s going to be fine. You guys go home.” Buffy turned and saw the darkness sheltering the world and gasped at the awfulness of its fortune. “Oh, I should walk you guys home. It’s—”
“Don’t worry about us, Buffy. Giles is coming by soon and we’ll just divert him into taking us home. No biggie.” Xander quickly elbowed Willow in the ribs as she opened her mouth to quiz him on the sudden co-operation of Giles and she eeped before clamping her lips around an encouraging smile.
Buffy stayed several steps behind as they all moved awkwardly to the front door, looking up finally when they reached it. She plastered a confident smile on her lips and ignored the trembling in her body at what she was about to do.
Buffy could see it was dark beyond the front porch, despite the streetlights that bathed the green lawn with glowing light. Xander turned as Willow joined his side outside the door and they each struggled to find the words to summarise the night. Nothing could do it justice—nothing could convey the loss of innocence they’d all suffered so deeply.
The sadness he felt was crippling and Xander was grateful that Buffy was pushing them away. He’d caused so much of this heartache. Maybe not the Spike part so much—though it was likely he wouldn’t have been caught so easily if he hadn’t run with an attack of conscience. So maybe the blame for all of it could lie squarely at his feet and he really could think of other places he could wallow in that discovery.
Buffy bid them a farewell smile—sad as it was—and turned almost unwillingly to shut them out into the night. Willow took his hand and squeezed, both of them blinking back tears of battle defeat before taking that first step off the porch.
Reaching the path, a hulking shadow stopped their progress. Looking up wearily, Xander felt his heart fall to his shoes.
“Angel.”
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Slowly, quietly, she crept back to the cot in the basement. In her arms were blankets, brought down two-fold for love and comfort. He was sleeping, dark lashes sweeping torn and hollow cheeks. He was beautiful and Buffy ached for the pain he’d endured. She’d make it better, soothe them both and cure this madness that had settled in her heart.
There was a little problem that remained, and for once she didn’t have an easy solution. Not one that made her feel confident in his reaction once he was the Spike she loved again. This was her moment, her statement and she was terrified that Spike would take it away from her without understanding exactly what it was he was doing.
His wrists were already chained, as had Jesse’s been, but the links were long and left him free enough to do her damage this close to his body. Trying desperately to slay the guilt that was crippling her movements and making them jerky, Buffy spied what she needed atop an open box along the wall near the bed. She tied a small length of rope around the bolt in the cuff at the wrist and thread it through the chain to the original bolt on the wall. It made the links shorter, taut, and gave Spike less of a leash while she commanded control.
Her fingers tingled to get to the next part in her plan, and not once was she prepared to stop and consider the wisdom of the decision to do this. Especially not after she tore his tee down the middle and peeled it away from his chest. Fear was steadily being pumped away with adrenaline fuelled lust and her inner Buffy cheered for allowing this to happen.
His eyes opened to amber delights when her soft hands caressed from his collarbone, over firm pecs to even firmer abs and Buffy felt her mouth go dry. The face of the demon hungry and desirous of her—whether body or blood—didn’t faze her anymore and Buffy almost welcomed the power she had over such a creature. A low growl welcomed the pop of the top button of his jeans, reverberating in his chest as she slowly drew the zip down and peeled it away from the rigid flesh of his jutting cock.
Such a sudden intimacy motivated a heavy pause and Buffy’s breath became laboured, heavy with determination and desire. This was what she wanted; she had no more doubts. When Spike was Spike again, she wanted him to realise that. She wanted there to be no lingering suspicion for him that everything she did now was exactly what she wanted. He may have forced her body to accept him earlier, but the need to eradicate any boundaries between them was too powerful to wait.
She was hot. His body was droolworthy, and even in her mission she had the good sense to really look at what she was doing. Her hands lost their shake and with growing confidence Buffy allowed herself to explore, fingers slowly dipping between ridges of his abdomen before climbing a new muscular peak and dipping down again. Wetness pooled between her legs and Buffy knew that this also proved her a woman. That this went a long way to eradicating the shattering discovery earlier in her room.
The gasp was swallowed before Buffy could remember how to breathe. There was a tingling between her legs at the sight and yet the fear was still there about how it all worked—whether she could make it good for him. His flesh felt so good against the palm of her hands as she swept them under the denim and dragged the fabric over his hips and to his ankles. The boots had been removed before she’d started in an almost panicked need to not look goofy or virginal in front of an evil demon. She knew that was largely what she was dealing with here, and just hoped that by the end she’d have Spike back. There’d been flashes of remorse in the yellow eyes and Buffy knew that was her Spike trying to claw his way back in control. Knew he was trying to force his way past the demon that was still trying to bend her to its will. Angry growls broke through now and then, reminding her that not so long ago this demon wanted her blood—wanted her body too, and not to express love but domination. With her body she’d show him that love could exist for the demon as well—it wasn’t only when Spike drove that he’d crave the softer emotions from her. She’d make him whole by offering her love to both demon and man.
He was thoroughly naked now, and Buffy couldn’t hold back her need to touch him. Gentle hands skimmed over the hair covered thighs until she rubbed her fingers over a prominent hip bone. The vampire shuddered and she could see the absence of any hostility in his eyes, a relief flushing her with happiness and bravado.
And there it was—the stiff curve of his cock as it stood straining for her touch against his belly. He lifted his hips in invitation, and Buffy couldn’t stand it any longer. Curiosity and eagerness took over nerves and she reached out, her fingers tingling as soon as they made contact with the smooth, hard flesh.
“Oh,” she whispered reverently, each finger snaking around the girth and squeezing gently. “Oh, Spike,” she murmured and then let her fingers slide up his length, stopping at the tip and smoothing the skin around before venturing to the head. Butterflies suddenly were weighted with lead and fell with a thud, Buffy’s heart pounding so hard she thought she was going to pass out. It was an unknown scenario, but it was suddenly so very much what she wanted that it encouraged her to be bold.
A sudden yank on the chains was proof how much the demon at her hand enjoyed her self-appointed task and Buffy grinned into the face of a vampire—the face of Spike. She was unwavering as she held his gaze, lowering her lips to surround his tip and suck lightly while swiping her tongue over the slit. It was a revelation—something she’d never thought she’d feel comfortable doing in a million years on a real man—let alone a vampire. And yet the sexuality of it was peaceful, right. Every last doubt was washed away with the dribblings of his pre-cum down her throat.
It came as no surprise when just massaging his cock with her tongue and lips was no longer enough. A ferocious hunger burst to life inside her and Buffy felt the urge to not explore, but possess. Looking deeply into the inhuman amber eyes, she took him further down her throat, loving the slide of him as her cheeks first bulged and then hollowed out with her first powerful suck. His hips jerked up and she felt still more of his cock glide down her throat, and she wondered where the gagging reflex that she’d read about was, feeling him touch the back of her throat and abstractly swallowing his mini-spurts.
And then she lost that contact with the demon she was pleasuring as her eyes drifted closed, feeling overwhelmed by the pleasure of having him within her and the natural movement of her head. Her hand somehow knew to cup his balls and how to massage their heavy weight. Something she’d always expected to be dirty became love and she was glad, pleased she could do this and that the boundaries had been kicked down by the primitive in them both.
Growls were ripped from his throat in sync with each downward slide, instinctive swallowing when he filled her throat. Happiness bloomed and Buffy upped the pace, enthusiasm and a compulsive need to make him lose control driving her completely. She wasn’t even mad when he slammed his hips up and she lost the ability to breathe, her eyes bulging a little as he came and filled her mouth with cool, creamy liquid. She didn’t swallow, not having made that decision before he blew in her mouth, but there was some kind of sensual pleasure that made her body hot and tingly as his final spurts hit her lips and washed over her face. The mess settled everywhere, but rather than irk or disgust her, Buffy found it perfect. Found it to be exactly the experience she wanted for her first time. Untamed, untimed and perfect. She was going to lose her virginity to the demon lover she’d tied to her heart and it couldn’t have been clearer that this was exactly what the world meant for her. No matter what her age.
Her body was aflame and itchy and Buffy realised it was finally time, and with a yearning she’d not expected, she peeled off her clothes to a very captive audience. His eyes were flickering gold and blue now, and that made it all the better, knowing that her Spike—the in control Spike—was so near the surface and would experience this with her. The loss of her sweater drew eyes to her throat and she could see the fire burning in yellow depths, matching the inferno that was playing havoc with her own belly and crotch. Then went her pants and without even taking a breath, Buffy discarded her underwear—not shy, not a siren, but a girl: the slayer intent on a purpose.
She stood naked beside the cot, doing nothing but soaking up the approving stare, relishing the licking of fleshy lips around fangs, and feeling her body flush and moisten. The normal position she’d read about, the one she suspected the majority of the female population lost their virginity with, was impossible with Spike chained on his back. And again Buffy felt like it was perfect—her need take this at her pace satisfied as she slowly inched up from his feet, her hands trailing up his legs, until she straddled his belly. She felt sticky, and a little embarrassed that she was leaking onto his stomach, but one look at the leering supposed monster beneath her and she knew he didn’t mind.
Her gaze stole to his cuffed hands and Buffy reached forward and linked her fingers through and together they made fists. She felt awkward, now stretched out above him, her pussy lifting just a little from his flesh and her breasts dangling tantalising above his mouth. She ached for his touch—wondered for just one second about waiting until it was totally Spike and the tender, gentle lovemaking she suspected would tempo their first time. She rejected it almost immediately, knowing that her body and her excitement couldn’t handle a break in this increasing pleasure—not now.
The power of decision had fled her mind and she leaned forward just that little bit more and gasped as fangs lodged in her breast, feeling the pain of the sting but also the ecstasy of the bite. Her body took over and while a rough tongue sanded her nipple to exquisite pain, she felt the tip of his cock nudge her sopping heat and she allowed him to spread her, stretch her to capacity as she sank down, sucking him in slow and deep while the effort made her grunt and moan. The pain was harsh, splitting her open and scalding her and yet the pleasure was a rush that throbbed through her like a torpedo of hot, itching power.
He filled her. Spread her insides around him so that she felt so jammed full of his cock and it was the sweetest sensation any sixteen year old could cope with. Buffy felt her nipples ache, hardening painfully while one nipple was teased in his mouth and the other craved that sensation jealously. Buffy loosened her clasp with one of his chained hands and braced one of hers on his chest, the other gripping the metal ring fastened into the wall, and while she telegraphed her intent with a burning stare into fascinated demon eyes, Buffy took her first slide upward to heaven. She felt slick, her flesh burning all over as he slowly slipped out of her passage before she just as slowly took him back inside, using her hips in a torturous move to extend every single sensation. Pleasure rushed through her body and she felt the involuntary squeeze of her vaginal muscles. Body trembling, Buffy bit her lip hard, fever scorching her flesh like wildfire. She craved more, her body’s response making her hunger for the consumption of his cock more desperate than had the earlier visual alone.
“Spike,” she moaned around taut lips, her eyes closed as sensation broke like a wave over her body and Buffy found it difficult to cope. “Oh,” she almost sobbed, and the slayer in her relished it, found nothing wrong with making love to the beast of her nightmares.
Finally she felt his fangs retract, and Buffy sat up while slowly opening her eyes. She was giddy with happiness, with power and couldn’t hold back the smile that shone just for him. Her euphoric glance connected with shocked blue but she was too far gone to connect the dots and instead just leaned forward to brush a loving kiss against his full lips, barely escaping a torn lip from his fangs.
“I love you,” passed her lips, hidden under her breath as she raised her body up and then down, showing him just how with a move of her hips.
Amazing things were happening to her body, great waves of sensual bliss focusing first at her wettest centre and blossoming out and beyond till Buffy wondered if every cell was buzzing with joy. She lowered her head so that his fangs were gently scraping at the marks left behind earlier in the night and Buffy wondered at her brazen need to feel him there again.
What was happening to her? She never thought she’d be this kind of girl, this kind of slayer, but even as the thought filtered through and she decided to end the tease and pull back, sharp incisors were penetrating her flesh, making her burn at every point. Her face, breasts, toes and pussy were electrified with current, snapping and frizzing as her hips jerked rapidly on his cock.
“Ugh.” And it was done. She was a woman, joined now and powerful as only a woman-slayer could be with a vampire boyfriend. With a guttural moan, Buffy exploded into Fantasia, colours bursting along with some swollen ball of desire inside of her. She felt it all so heightened and then was racing to the tallest mountain, rapidly bracing against the wind at her face as she felt the sudden swell and release inside her body and Spike’s release spurted and ran down and out.
Buffy collapsed panting and exhausted on Spike’s chest, his fangs retracted. She felt weak, her muscles totally loose and had not the slightest urge to move. She was happy—happier than a frightened girl attacked by her boyfriend would normally be. It was beyond explanation. Belief in the two of them and their feelings for one another demanded she fix the situation before fear and resentment eroded everything they’d shared. By giving freely what the demon wanted fiercely to take, allowed her to pass beyond the earlier experience with some kind of acceptance. It returned her power and left her free to accept and love the demon as well as the man. It was right.
Sleep snuck up on her, and the drowsiness closed in even as she snuggled, arms wrapped tight around her lover’s neck and her cheek against his chest.
It was perfect.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
This is the make or break chapter and I have to say, I'm feeling sick. Warnings: it's not pretty and Buffy is 16. I'm sure you know the drill. If you don't want teh sex, don't read any further.