Part Ten
“I think it might be safe to assume that, as the only place your dream has manifested in reality so far has been the over abundance in larger vegetable life— and that it is apparently being stored in Spike’s crypt—that if you stake out the graveyard you might come across the bunnies. Or, at the very least, whoever is stockpiling the food source.”
Buffy stared at Giles blankly. “Are you insane? These are vicious, vampire-shredding rabbits. I say we hop a bus and call someone else to deal with it.”
The Watcher spared the resident vampire an irritated look before focusing on his spooked slayer. If she didn’t climb into the slayer-seat soon, she could very well become too useless in the fight against darkness. As much as she might be feeling affection for the blond menace, she had to put him last on her list of priorities.
“Buffy, we have no way of knowing why this threat is among us, nor where it came from. Or, for that matter, what it wants. I’ve found no reference to giant wererabbits in my books, and really, our last course of action is to hunt the creatures down. Now, I am truly sorry that you fear Spike might be…lost to the fight, but this threat must be neutralised.” Giles was one step away from slamming his fist into the counter in frustration, but stopped himself just short of damage. There was no possible way he could understand this sudden obsession of his slayer to tie herself voluntarily to another vampire. True, they didn’t make a completely repulsive match, but it was the implication of the thing. He could never accept Spike as anything but a monster that had fostered a yen for taking their lives as long as he’d known them.
“Okay, I’ll do it. But Spike is staying here.” Buffy’s lips were tight with determination and she was obviously just waiting for someone to dare contradict her. She even looked ready to deck Spike if he so much as whimpered over her figurative castration.
“Fair go, Slayer!” Spike exclaimed as he sprung to his feet from his relaxed pose on The Magic Box’s counter. “I realise you’re all hopped up on the girl power, but I might like to point something out. Should have been bleeding obvious to you lot, but apparently the thought of my ‘torn to ribbons’ look before drifting off on a dusty wind has preoccupied you all to the point of stupidity.”
“Yeah?” Xander stood from the table where the rest of the gang had gone pretty much forgotten, resentment making him bristle. “You know, having you even in the group is making me all kinds of needy for a puke bucket, but that you actually think you know more than us in the demon fighting caper is just all shades of wrong.”
Spike crooked a brow and looked down his nose at the boy, silently congratulating himself on the feat when he was being towered over by a standing puffy boy of Angel proportions. “Yeah? Ask your girl then, you nit. What is the biggest clue about our not-so-little not-so-fluffy bunnies?”
It was always amusing when Xander didn’t know what to say, but Buffy had never noticed how much of a flapping fish his efforts could resemble when Spike was the cause.
“Ahn?” struggled past his lips, finally, and Xander’s head nearly twisted off his neck as he spun around, trying to find where his girlfriend had slunk off to. He had no explanation of how she’d moved so fast from the counter near Giles and into the backroom, but her look of guilt definitely merited investigating. No one else seemed to notice it, though, and Xander was more than willing to put it down to the wigginess of the subject matter. “The Bleached Wonder thinks we’re missing some vital clue about the werebunnies. Tell him how magnificently wrong he is.” Xander puffed up, secure in the knowledge that he…well…had knowledge and the vampire that they barely suffered the presence of didn’t.
“W-well,” hedged Anya suspiciously as she took that first hesitant step back into the main part of the shop. “They are wererabbits, right?”
Everyone was nodding, still not seeing it and Spike leaned back in his chair, a knowing smirk on his face as he waited for the ex-demon to blow all their little over-inflated perceptions of themselves right out of the water.
“Well, Oz wasn’t a werewolf all of the time. Right?”
“Of course!” Giles slapped his forehead with his hand, his self-annoyance heavy as he tried hard not to give into the furious blush that was heating his skin. Being bested by Spike was a hideous development, but in his own defence, he had had a rather bone-shuddering revelation foisted upon him. “Er, Willow, when would the next full moon be scheduled?”
Xander flopped down defeated into the chair beside his best friend and grumbled. Willow patted his arm in reassurance as she gave him a crooked grin, then did the once very familiar calculations in her head. “The full moon is another two nights away,” she confirmed and repressed the series of shivers that those memories brought back, even as Tara squeezed her hand.
“Marvellous. That is more than enough time for Buffy and Spike to stake out the crypt and gather some much needed information on this rather odd but potentially fatal—” He pursed his lips and wondered just how fatal such apparently enormous mammals could be, but then considered the mating cycle and shuddered at the thought of a rabbit epidemic the proportions of which the world could never have contemplated. “Enemy.”
“Fine!” Buffy jumped to her feet, looked around at the people closest to her and fell upon Spike last. A week ago, she wouldn’t have had a second’s care about forcing Spike out to help her. Her own survival instinct would have demanded to have him at her side, even if it just distracted the enemy long enough for her to kill it. The energy she spent worrying about his pretty skin was exhausting, and Buffy suddenly could see why she’d blocked out any and all attraction she’d felt for Spike in the past. He was going to break her heart. One way or another, Buffy knew that she was going to face the devastation of losing another love, and it almost brought her to her knees.
She was almost at the door before the tear slid down her cheek, and Buffy refused to look at anyone as Giles tried to call her back. She pressed forward until she was out in the cool air, fighting the onslaught of grief that threatened to cripple her before it was even time.
She hadn’t heard the shop bell ding along with the opening of the door after she’d fled, but she’d recognise Spike’s heavy leather-clothed arm anywhere. Even though she’d not yet experienced the comfort of his arm around her shoulders as they walked date-like to where the town’s after-hours action always was.
“Do you have any idea how humiliating it would be to become nothing but trail mix thanks to a few overgrown rabbits? William the Bloody, perished at the side of the Slayer by abnormally large bunnies. Priceless. And no bleeding way is it going to happen.” There was cocky self-assurance in his grin and Buffy wondered just how often she’d seen that exact same expression right before she’d taken him down. It would be just like him to be overconfident and get cut in half by the claws of the comic critters.
“You know, the time I died, it wasn’t at the fangs of the Master, but in a dirty little puddle. Pride cometh before the fall,” taunted Buffy before bouncing out of Spike’s loose grip and running toward his crypt.
Spike gave chase, almost immediately overtaking Buffy as his coat flapped behind him. Buffy narrowed her eyes and stepped up her pace, but she could never get close enough to regain the lead, seemingly permanently stuck with Spike’s coat whipping her in the face.
By mutual agreement, the race slowed as they approached Spike’s home, and in a move strangely natural and comforting, Spike took Buffy’s hand and directed her to a perfect place to spy on his front door. Only a light blush spread over her cheeks as she refused to admit she was well acquainted with the spot—it was hard to admit to herself that she’d ever staked him out for no reason at all—but Spike snorted quietly in acknowledgment. It would seem like she had absolutely no secrets at all.
“You know,” began Spike, his hand slipping out of hers and snaking up the back of her shirt. “We could be here for a bit. Can you think of anything that might make the passing time a little less boring?”
Buffy wiggled, an evil smile hidden by the fall of her hair. Without hardly any effort at all, the cool surface of his hand was encouraged to slide from her back to her front, and a sharp descent to her knees and Buffy had perfectly placed Spike’s cupped palm around the curve of her breast.
“I have no idea,” she said, totally tongue-in-cheek. “But I’m open to suggestions.”
“You have no idea but yet you manage to get me to grope you? You are one hell of a negotiator, pet.” And his fingers pinched a nipple and plucked it long and hard, Spike delighting in the gasp of pleasure and the wriggle that got Buffy into his lap, eyes doggedly focused on his front door.
Spike leaned back against a handy tree trunk and positioned himself a little more comfortably. Bushes mostly surrounded them, yet a strategic parting in the foliage allowed a clear view of the target while he could devote himself to more sensory experiences.
“Let me think, then. What can bad, evil Spike think of to pass the time?” His touch became gentle as he rubbed slow circles around the tightened bud. The crinkled skin was just as successful at hardening his cock as the inspired swirl of Buffy’s hips against his erection was. He hissed as the tip rubbed brutally against the teeth of his fly, and then sighed as Buffy gentled her thrusting and allowed him to explore under the soft flowing skirt. Her leg was warm against his palm, and Spike held a breath as one hand continued to caress her breast and the other made inroads toward her panties.
“How ‘bout a kiss then, luv?” He nuzzled behind an ear, his fingers scraping against the edge of fabric around her crotch, just scratching while he rolled a nipple between his fingers.
Buffy gasped, her eyes falling shut as she leaned in closer to Spike. “You don’t think that…might be kind of distracting?” Not that she cared too much, but they were meant to be on a stakeout.
“Vampire, pet. I’ll hear anything long before—” He snapped at the elastic leg of the panties, his finger running over the damp patch before drifting up to slowly drag over an extended clit.
Spike growled in his throat as Buffy gave into it, turning slightly to the side and drinking in his lips as if she’d had no choice at all. Her mouth was wet, hot, tantalising, and he desperately wanted to feel the other cavern of her body that could replicate the experience for him and his other senses. Looping a finger through the crotch of her panties, he tugged them down, her scent driving him crazy enough to encourage the vamp in him to seize control.
It wasn’t simple, but Spike offered up prayers to whatever deity that had convinced Buffy that the skimpier her undergarments were, the quicker the reward would come. Surrendering her breast just long enough to snap the tiny fabric link over her hip, Spike grinned against Buffy’s lips as her G-string slipped to uselessness down her thigh. Searing, moist flesh met his touch as Buffy’s jaw opened wider and she began sucking his tongue deeper inside her mouth.
Buffy broke free of his oral clasp and panted hard. Her body rocked with need and she felt like screaming that Spike wasn’t giving into the urgency. Instead of ripping away the encumbrance of his jeans and sinking into her until it was impossible to go any deeper, Spike slowly circled her nipple, gently brushed back and forth over the distended and aching pebble until she was shivering with pleasure. And his other hand was making her ache, driving her slowly out of her mind.
Fingers spread in a V, mimicking the opening between her legs, Spike rested them against the fine hairs and teased them back and forth. Heat flashed through her blood and Buffy lost all desire to look for demented little gardeners that catered for the size-challenged bunny rabbits. He scissored his fingers and dipped shallowly into her juices, letting them flow over his digits before withdrawing a little but spreading her fractionally wider.
“There’s someone inside,” he whispered against her neck, and Buffy was way beyond the point where she might have cared.
“Okay.” She nodded before sliding back a little in his lap, hoping the small move would make his fingers slip and he’d stop teasing her into madness.
Senses on alert, Buffy was deprived of a scream, Spike’s mouth swallowing her pleasure as he simultaneously tugged a nipple and introduced a single finger pad to her clit with a cluster of rapid rubbing movements. He settled into a more regular pace, occasionally dipping into the dripping treasure to lubricate her clit, and then tracing a maddening path around the protruding nub, and then back to rubbing her almost emotionally raw.
“You like that, baby?” Spike chuckled at the tortured whimper that tumbled from his slayer’s lips and finally drew away from her aching breast. His hand rubbed circles on her belly before he finally admitted that he deserved a little in on this highly sensitive situation, and left her body completely. His hands drifted under her to release his zipper and allowed his cock to strain outside his jeans. He could feel the pressure of blood making him bulge, could feel the veins as they stood out stark and hungry for touch. His cock pulsed alive and vibrant in his fist, eager to feel the wetness of Buffy’s pussy welcoming him in, sucking him inside her so far that he thought he might never find his way out.
He pinched her clit between his fingers, could feel the sweat as it broke the boundaries of mortal skin and let go of his cock only long enough to tug her skirt out of the way. He almost laughed, totally carefree as orgasm crashed down on Buffy when his cock stretched her opening and he slid her down on him. Her walls pulsed and squeezed him as he sunk in to his balls, marvelling at the sensation of her resting on his sac when all he wanted was to keep on moving deeper. Buffy moaned and fell forward, holding her weight up with her hands on the ground between his knees. The skirt might obstruct his view, but he had a vivid imagination and after the past few nights, Spike had no trouble envisioning his cock thrusting in and out of her hot, welcoming pussy.
Hips pumping, Spike lost sight of what they were doing in the driving need to find his release. Balls curling and cock almost bursting with the pressure, he almost missed the exit of the little man from his crypt. Knowing that he might be a bit dicey on the details later, Spike tugged Buffy’s hair so that she could also watch—even if it was through a haze of lust—and recommenced thrusting his hips for all he was worth. As a stream of cum jetted through his cock and began the long, spurting release, he soaked up the details of the nondescript little fellow as much as he could. He was short—shorter than Spike and likely not much taller than Harris’s demon bird. He wore very old fashioned clothing, he looked exhausted, and above all, pissed. Spike roared like a wild animal, his fingers working Buffy’s clit hard while he watched the startled jump of the little man who had used his crypt to store his strange vege harvest. His euphoric eruption was meshed with his fury, wanting to jump the git and show him a lesson or two about stealing a bloke’s home, but knowing that a splintering Buffy wouldn’t welcome his desertion at such a spectacularly sensitive time.
He welcomed her body’s vibrations around him, weathered the tightening of her pussy as she almost reshaped his cock, and glared at the little man that scurried back inside like a terrified mouse.
When he’d calmed down enough to notice Buffy panting almost to the point of hyperventilation, Spike pulled her back and groaned at the renewed welcome of his cock.
“H-he didn’t look so scary,” Buffy whimpered and Spike could smell the tears on her face. It was a boon that she was so awed by what he did to her and he didn’t think for once that the tears were anything other than an overwhelmed response to how she felt.
“Nope, not even a little knee-knocking. I think we’ve observed enough though, pet. You ready to move on for the night?” He had no intention of visiting the Watcher but rather was picturing several other locations around town that he could almost guarantee that Buffy would never view in the same way again.
“Okay.” Buffy grinned as she twisted her body around to face her lover, kissing the corner of his mouth. “I vote we see Giles tomorrow.”
Spike smirked and tucked his tongue behind his teeth, looking up and down the form of his dishevelled slayer. “I’ll second that. Besides, wouldn’t hurt to patrol a bit.”
Buffy eyed him knowingly, stretching so that she almost bumped him in the nose with her breast before bracing her hands on his shoulders and levered herself to her feet. His cock slipped out like an unwanted noodle and he pouted.
“Hey, no pouting! I’m the one with the slashed panties.”
Spike huffed in mock irritation as he stood and tucked his resisting cock back in his jeans. “Hey! You wore a skirt. You had to know that whatever was underneath wasn’t going to stay in pristine condition.”
Buffy winked playfully before bending to pick up the destroyed lace. “Doesn’t mean you don’t totally owe me a shopping spree.” She tossed them in his face and then was off, another location in mind.
Spike was never one to reject a good pursuit.
Deep Purple by Peta
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Yes, more of the smut. I'm sorry!