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Chapter Nineteen


“Not that one. The bloody three quarter inch socket, Harris!”

“This one?”

“What- No! Oh, just get out of the way, you no-brained waste of space. I’ll get it myself.”

Buffy couldn’t help but snicker at the Abbott and Costello routine being played out in their very own barn. She stood there quietly, waiting on them to notice her and the frosty beers she held in each hand.

Both of them were a mess, smudged with dirt and grime. Oily black streaks marred the glaring white hair of her vampire, looking as though he’d run his dirty hands through it in a fit of frustration. It was beyond amusing to see him this way. She’d come to the conclusion after the laundry incident that Spike was the vainest of vampires. He hated to be seen looking anything less than perfect.

Well, his idea of perfect and hers were obviously very different. Buffy hummed in appreciation as he bent over the truck’s fender, the tight, hard curve of his ass thrust into the air as he tinkered with something in the engines depths. Her tongue slipped out to wet her suddenly desert-dry lips as she remembered squeezing those luscious cheeks with both hands as he pounded away at her just last night.

Something had been different last night. Sure, they had gone at each other like rabid weasels, but even while he’d done things to her that she was pretty sure were illegal in all fifty states, there had been a sweeter side. A subtle hint of- dare she say it?

Tenderness?

Broken whispers and disjointed endearments—and then his bite. God, his teeth in her breast, worshipping her with his body as he drove her to such rapturous heights that her scalp tingled for hours afterwards. Could it be that he was beginning to have feelings for her? Buffy sighed happily.

Angel might have preached about soulless demons and their inability to experience the finer emotions, but she was pretty sure by now that Angel was an idiot where Spike was concerned. Had he sensed it all along, perhaps, her unconscious attraction to the former bane of her existence?

When he’d finally regained his wits after his Buffy-sponsored trip to Acathla’s hell dimension, she had casually informed him of her alliance with Spike to bring him down. Oddly enough, Angel hadn’t blamed her, but his ire over his grandchilde’s involvement knew no bounds.

He’d always been extremely vocal in his dislike of Drusilla’s childe. She had to wonder if that was the alpha male vampire in him coming out to play, or if he’d realized just how much of a yen she’d had for the self-proclaimed Big Bad since the night they met?

At that moment, Spike leaned further over the engine to tug at a stubborn bolt, biceps bulging impressively as he cursed the offending part. Tough denim pulled taut and Buffy’s mind went drooling happily to the Naughty Spike Place.

Oh, yeahhhhh! Come to mama, baby!

“Hey, Buffster!”

She let out a choked scream when a grinning Xander popped up in front of her like a demented Jack-in the-box. Hearing her startled shriek, Spike snapped upright, banging his head hard against the underside of the truck’s hood. The oily wrench slipped from his grasp and flew in a graceful arc, flipping end over end before connecting solidly with the back of Xander’s already lumpy skull. He dropped like a sack of rocks. In the meantime, the impact of Spike’s head made the hood come loose from its prop and it came slamming down. The vampire’s preternatural reflexes saved him from decapitation, but the lamp they had clamped inside to illuminate their work area was smashed to smithereens. With an ominous whoosh, the electrical sparks from the broken bulb ignited the oil and gas smeared engine and in seconds the whole front of the truck was afire.

Looks of disbelief were exchanged before all three sprang into action. Xander grabbed the sizzling hot edge of the hood with his bare hands and threw it open. He skipped away, yelping and shaking his singed hands in pain as a belching cloud of fire and black smoke rolled upwards. Spike snatched a horse blanket off the nearby shelf and began beating at the flames while screaming for Xander to grab up the hose that was never far from hand since Buffy became domesticated. While Xander doused Spike and his burning blanket and the engine, Buffy did her part by rushing forward and dumping the beers she was still clinging to onto the blaze.

The last of the flames were extinguished, courtesy of Budweiser.

They stood there, a panting, bedraggled circle of three wearing identical expressions of dazed bewilderment.

“What the bloody fuck just happened here?” Spike bit out grimly. He turned to glare at Buffy, while she whirled around to accost Xander.

“You scared me!” she accused.

Xander sucked in an indignant gasp and nearly swallowed his tongue. “You screamed!”

“Only because you scared me!”

The argument rapidly degenerated into childish pinching and rapid-fire accusations of ‘did nots!’ and ‘did so’s!’ from the two antagonists. Following the rain of insults back and forth like a line judge at Wimbledon, Spike finally rolled his eyes in disgust. He shoved his fingers in his mouth and cut loose with an eardrum-splitting whistle. That shut them up, but they continued to glower at each other.

“Let’s calm down, shall we?” Spike’s voice was deceptively soft and gently cultured, but his eyes flashed yellow as he looked from one to the other. “Very good. Now, I don’t want to hear any more accusations. It was just one of those very strange things that seem to happen whenever Buffy is around.”

“True,” Xander sighed regretfully as he wandered over to inspect the smoldering carcass of his once-prized Ford. “Buffy and mechanics are unmixy things.”

Buffy’s jaw dropped in horror. “That so is not true! You’d both better take that back right now, or I’ll-”

“Sweetheart-” Spike stepped towards her, intent on soothing her ire. Seeing his hands reaching for her, Buffy slapped at them ineffectually. Tears of frustration sparkled in her eyes as she pouted up at him.

“But Spike, this wasn’t my fault. I was bringing you guys something to drink and he jumped up at me and scared me when I wasn’t paying attention. I was-.” Her mouth slammed shut and her cheeks flamed when she realized what she had almost blurted out what had been distracting her.

“You were…what?” Spike prompted patiently. That fiery blush had to have wicked thoughts behind it. He’d bet what was left of his Desoto on it.

She’d rip out her tongue before confiding that she’d been ogling his ass. The nerve of him. He was practically taking Xander’s side in a disgustingly macho show of solidarity against poor, innocent little her.

“No. Get off me. Just…just go play with your new buddy and leave me alone. I can’t believe that you’re taking his side over mine. See if I ever bring you a cold drink-”

His entire body held taut, Spike took a step forward for every two that she back away from him. “Buffy?” he rumbled cajolingly. “Sweetness? You remember when we talked about arguing and what it does to me?”

And just like that, he had her. Meeting those slumberous blue eyes, the Slayer froze like a deer in the headlights. An all-over shudder wracked her lithe, soot-smudged form and her nether regions seized up in anticipation as a gush of wet warmth soaked her panties.

“What’s it do to him?” Xander asked, completely oblivious as he tipped one of the beer bottles up in a futile attempt to catch any remaining drops.

Buffy began to slink towards Spike, small white teeth capturing her bottom lip as she came to a halt mere inches from his body. Without breaking their smoldering eye contact, she replied off-handedly to her friend’s remark.

“It makes him horny.”

With that, she leapt eagerly into his waiting arms and smashed her lips to his. They kissed, their mouths devouring each other in a surge of passion so intense, the very air around them crackled with sexual energy. Cradling his precious burden, Spike stumbled blindly towards the ladder to the loft. After a few minutes, their impassioned cries of ecstasy signaled their safe arrival upstairs.

Xander sighed. Tossing the empty bottle over his shoulder, he shook his head in bewilderment.

“We’re talking about Spike. What doesn’t make him horny?” he muttered as he made his way back to the house.

*~*~*~*

Spike woke with a bellow to claws swatting at his stirring tender bits. His eyes popped open and he froze when confronted with a miniscule ball of fluff wielding what seemed to be ten inch razor sharp talons. Huge green eyes blinked innocently up at him as the kitten plopped itself down on his balls and began a leisurely bath.

“Shoo!” he spat at the tiny creature. “Bugger off!”

When his verbal commands went blissfully ignored, Spike decided to try scaring it away. Vamping out, he bared his fangs and snarled at the toffee colored puffball.

Totally unimpressed, the contrary little beast batted her eyes at him and then yawned, revealing her own needle sharp teeth. That delicate yawn had the big, bad vampire close to panicking. She looked to be settling in for a nap, and if she started kneading at his danglies, he was going to come unhinged.

A soft giggle jerked his head around and he groaned. A tousled Buffy fresh from a good bit of rough and tumble garnered the usual reaction from him and he flinched as the kitten hissed and slapped again at his growing erection.

“Buffy,” he bleated, his voice a decidedly unmanly squeak. “A little help here, luv?”

She sat up beside him, legs crossed Indian style and chin cradled on her hands. Green eyes very much like the kittens stared back at him, a stirring tenderness in their depths to match the sweet smile on her face.

“That is the cutest thing I have ever seen,” she gushed, making her ‘aww’ face. “I wish we had a camera.”

“Not that I don’t mind bringing the media into our sex life, pet, but just who are you planning on showing the undoubtedly adorable picture of a kitten napping on my stiffy?”

Buffy had to concede that he had a good point. A very good point, she thought with a surge of jealousy. There was no way anyone was gonna ogle Spike’s ‘spike’ but her.

“Fine, ruin my fun. Want me to move her?”

He sighed with forced patience. “If you please?”

“It’s gonna hurt like a bitch, you know. She’s comfy, so once I put my hand on her she’s gonna dig in,” she warned.

“Buffy-”

“Okay, okay. Yeesh, ya grouch.” She crawled through the hay until she came to his hip. The kitten eyeballed her suspiciously and hissed again. “Wonder if I should do this like a Band-Aid?” she muttered to herself.

Spike raised his head to look down at her and frowned. “Band-Aid?”

“Yeah, you know. Just rip it off and get it over with?”

He ground his teeth so hard that his jaw popped. “Slayer…”

Buffy snickered. She could have sworn that vampires didn’t sweat. “Just kidding. Alright, brace yourself; I’m going in.” Holding her breath, she reached for the feline.

Spike winced and cringed and bitched and moaned the entire time.

It was the longest minute of his life, living or undead.

When Buffy finally pulled the last claw from his dick, he sagged limply into the hay with a whimper. The whimper turned into a growl as he watched the slayer kiss the kitten on its little pink nose and coo sweet nonsense to calm it.

“Poor Taffy. Pay no attention to that mean old vampire,” she soothed. “You just wanted a nice place to nap, didn’t you?”

Spike harrumphed and sat up to cast an eye over his abused cock. Several hairline scratches marred its surface, and a number of tiny punctures were sluggishly oozing blood.

“Bloody hell,” he snarled irritably. “Look at me. Here, give me the little blighter so I can toss it out the window.”

Giving him a horrified glare, Buffy dropped the kitten and waved her hands at it, shooing it back to the safety of its mother. “I can’t believe you would do that to a defenseless kitten,” she snapped.

“Defenseless?” Spike grabbed his wounded pecker and shook it at her. “Look at me, Slayer, m' bits are bleeding. Defenseless, my ass!”

She couldn’t hold it in any longer. A torrent of giggles burst from her and they only got worse when he began to sputter his indignation. When he finally huffed at her and started to get up, she pounced.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she pacified as she straddled his legs to keep him from storming off in a fit of pique. “Poor Spikey. Want me to kiss it and make it better?”

He might have refused to look at her while he milked his pout for all it was worth, but his cock sat up and aggressively saluted her suggestive comment. Traitorous bastard.

“Oh, well, I can see someone is happy with that idea,” she purred. “C’mon, let Buffy make it all better?”

Like he would ever turn her down.

Spike watched, completely mesmerized by her wicked smile as she leaned over him. Soft hands skimmed up his thighs and she bent over to take him into her mouth.

“Ungh!” he grunted, fighting the urge to snatch her by that cloud of golden hair and ram his entire length down her throat. The girl had no idea what she could do to him with the heated cavern that lay beyond her glossy lips. The fact that she had never done this for anyone but him only made him harder. God, she was a talented little minx.

Buffy devoted herself to her task, loving the way she could reduce him to a big, mushy pile of vampire goo with just her tongue. It still amazed her that she enjoyed doing this. Relished it, in fact. Horror stories she’d heard in the school bathrooms had led her to believe that such an act was awkward and degrading for the woman. It was yet another sexual myth that being the lover of one William the Bloody had disproved, right up there with the one about multiple orgasms being the stuff of fairytales. Obviously, those poor, unfortunate ladies had never been so blessed as to be with someone like her Spike.

Her Spike. Her. Spike.

Definitely like the sound of that, she mused as she licked and sucked and nibbled him into a quivering frenzy. He was hers, and as soon as she peeled him off the ceiling, she was going to tell him so.

She knew he was getting close by the broken endearments that sputtered from his lips. She wasn’t even sure he was speaking English anymore. He was so wound up, it was starting to sound like Swahili. Stifling the giggle that threatened at her nonsensical thoughts, she took his pulsing member down her throat as far as she could and swallowed around him.

“Oh, fuck…Buffy…” Spike babbled, his hips arching desperately as he strained towards his release. “God, you’re…bloody brilliant…at this,” he gasped in praise.

Buffy hummed happily in reply and the vibrations from that were all it took to finish him off. With an ecstatic howl, he gripped her hair to guide her as he thrust his way through the final throes of his release.

Gently prying her hair from his fingers, Buffy sat up and swiped daintily at the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand. With a final pet of his limp but sublimely happy cock, she crawled over him and smiled down into his dazed blue eyes.

“All better, now?” she inquired perkily.

Spike hauled her down for a lush, worshipful kiss and then fell back with a satiated purr. Tucking her tightly against his side, he stared down at her with an expression of complete and total infatuation.

“W-was it okay?” That look was making her tummy flutter in a wildly exciting way.

“Mmm hmm,” he rumbled blissfully. “It was perfect. You’re perfect, you know that?”

Buffy swallowed convulsively. Now. Now would be the most absolutely perfect moment to tell him how she felt. C’mon, Buff. Just four little words, she coached herself nervously. She opened her mouth, gazing up at him with wide, luminous eyes.

“Spike, I lo-”

“Buffy! Spike!” Xander’s ill-timed, fearful bellow of their names had them both leaping to their feet and scurrying to the loft doors. Xander stood in the barnyard with an uneasy look on his face. “You know, I normally wouldn’t dream of interrupting the whole Call of the Wild thing you two got going on, but we have company.”

They followed his pointing finger down the long gravel drive to see a small red MG convertible barreling towards them. The top was down and Spike swore viciously when he spotted a familiar head of dark hair and the dripping antlers of the demon that was driving the little car.

Buffy battled an insane urge to cry as she clutched her discarded dress to her breasts. An ugly feeling of foreboding shuddered through her as she watched Spike snatch up his jeans and yank them roughly over his legs.

“S-Spike? Is that-?”

“Yeah,” he growled as he did up the buttons of his fly. He rested his hands on his lean hips and glared at the floor between his bare feet.

“It’s Dru.”

To Be Continued...

dadum..dadum..dadumdumdumdum!!

A/N~ No kittens were harmed in the writing of this chapter.





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