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The house felt empty. Windows normally opened to let the sunlight stream in were locked and cut off by blinds, only the smallest streams of day filtering through. She didn’t bother to glance into any of the rooms and instead hide her face from the dust which gathered on unused surfaces.

Part of her still expected Buffy to walk back in the door and beg for mercy.

Every time she climbed the stairs Joyce would pause, waiting for the customary sound of Buffy’s footsteps, or voice. It always came as a surprise when her daughter did not appear from her bedroom, helping her up the stairs and washing away the smell of bar smoke and whiskey.

Since Buffy had left, Joyce had barely been able to survive.

Sleepless nights were only quelled by the familiar plumes of smoke, larger doses needed as insomnia threatened to overtake. There was a growing fear that soon nothing would be able to stop her sense of guilt or that omnipresent notion that she had done something wrong. It was an idea that could be easily dismissed normally, but now, Joyce quailed at the discovery that she’d neglected her only daughter.

Hank would kill her.

It was well known that her husband, esteemed and beloved, had regularly beat their daughter until she could hardly see. The others expected it after commenting on the girl’s behaviour. Buffy had never truly learned to live to the expectations that their previous life had entailed. She’d been desperate to behave like a normal girl, go out to parties without the shadow of body guards and most importantly date who she choose. Joyce’s auburn hair shook at the memory of Hank’s ire. After that day Buffy never dared to speak back.

Just one of the reasons they’d been shipped off to Sunnydale. Hank had trouble dealing with their daughter’s willfulness and like everyman she’d ever known, blamed it on her. Maybe her addiction and investment in the crack industry had had a negative effect on the girl’s development but Joyce was positive that she wasn’t completely to blame. It wasn’t her fault if Buffy didn’t want the responsibility. The girl was just an idiot.

She choked back a sob as she watched the wind blow the door open; still no sign of her daughter.

Joyce could recall the easy acceptance of her daughter when the night’s adventures would find their way to the kitchen floor. Dizzy spells were always met with a calm of someone far older. It had taken her absence for the addict to realise that she’d come to rely on Buffy.

How ironic. I’m just like her father.

Hank never called to see how they were, that would have been too beneath him and instead was the job of one of his minions. Joyce had never met them, the men never bothering to introduce themselves. The contents of her drink spilled to the floor, causing Joyce to snort with laughter. She must be drunk if she thought that anyone would play up to her. You used to be important Joycie, remember that. Buffy was the reason she’d been forced to live in this god forsaken town and also the one person that still kept her alive. They’d been searching for the blond little girl for a long time but as always Hank remained stubborn. Unless they reinstated him to his former glory, Elizabeth’s location would remain secret. Now that her daughter had gotten tied up with that Spike character and the Aurelius, the secret would be ousted all too quickly.

Joyce was determined to be drunk when that day came.

Her eyes, dull and raw stared down at the dark liquid, swishing it from side to side of the glass. When the woman had been able to get home, Buffy would, without fail, have something waiting on the stove or at least fresh clothes. There had been attempts to keep the girl away from those endearing little packets of coke or the dried leaves of Mary Jane but ultimately had been found out.

Buffy’s horrified face flashed again and Joyce tossed the glass to the floor, not even flinching when it shattered.

Parker’s thugs came daily to see her now.

***
The mansion in Crawford Street remained relatively silent as the early morning once again roused its inhabitants. Many still groaned into their pillows and for some, even the floor, as they realised that Angel would soon be awake and call the customary meeting.

The stone courtyard which jutted out from the right of the building, soaked what little rays it could, with heavy shadows still lingering to the west of the gang’s home. Nearly all the windows were shuttered off in a poor attempt to prevent the inevitable dawn. All that is, except for one lone window which remained open, allowing the tiniest light to filter down on the sleeping couple.

Stirring Angel reached for the warm body next to him, dragging it closer and breathing in her scent. His mind registered with slight annoyance that it was not Darla but another girl in her stead. He groaned still not opening his eyes as he mused over the week’s events. Since the argument with Spike, they’d barely spoken, making their hatred of each other before the Brit joined the gang seem like nothing. I’ll have to let him take her , he thought with annoyance. Either that, or we’ll all face Masters questions. It would be considered a major insult if Spike did not turn up at the overlord’s party. He didn’t want to think what the repercussions might be.

Angel grinned when two soft arms curled around his waist. Whoever the girl was, she obviously liked him. The gang leader stretched onto his back, breathing out a deep sigh of contentment as he finally opened his eyes. Loose waves of chocolate colored hair covered his chest, tickling his ribs. Angel blinked in surprise. Ever since his dance with Faith, Cordelia had shunned him like the plague. He’d nearly gone seeking other company when his bed remained empty for nigh on a week. Darla had agreed that he should not have anything to do with Faith and staged a small revolt. Looks like she got over it, thought Angel with a smug grin. I knew she couldn’t stay angry at me forever. He moved his hand over her nude body, feeling a wave of possessive pride course through him. As far as the dark brunette was concerned, Cordelia’s appearance only reinforced his view that no one could go against him, or dare think of leaving. The man failed to notice the sad eyes which flickered open to gaze up at him, before pretending to sleep once more.

I’ll let the men sleep a little longer.

Unbeknownst to the gang leader, another of his women also lay sleeping beside her partner. Leah had joined some weeks before Buffy and came from the slums. Her complexion was African American with long braids which trailed down to her hips. Angel had rescued her from mediocrity, taking one long look before declaring her as his. She shivered when remembering Jacob’s broken expression. He was the one who originally had convinced her to come to Sunnydale with him. If not for the dominating presence of Aureli, Leah may well have ended up belonging to Jacob. Her head fell back onto the pillow, mouth gasping as the Irishman placed kisses down her chest and stomach. She had resolved herself to the realisation that their relationship was nothing more than cold comfort. But sometimes, she still wondered ‘what if?’

The woman had no idea that not more than a few rooms down the hall, another man pondered the same question.

Gunn stared bitterly into his mug of cocoa. The thick dark liquid swirled, burning his mouth and overall proving a poor distraction. He’d added some marshmallows after Spike suggested it the other night, but found that nothing could block out the passionate cries of Fred and Wesley. In a cruel twist of fate, the timid brunette had gone back to the Englishman, claiming that he understood her better. Gunn laughed humorously at the thought. Wesley didn’t have a caring bone in his body and most definitely did not give a damn about Winifred. He set the mug on his bedside table before jamming his fingers into his ears as the thumps grew louder. The man within him demanded that he intervene, kill the son of a bitch and make Fred realise that he loved her. It didn’t take into account the problems that would arise from such an action, only the fact that Fred would finally be his. No more sharing.

Gunn stretched back against the headboard. He’d been desperately repressing the urge ever since she walked out of his bedroom and into the next. The only thing keeping him back was the knowledge that she would never forgive him. Wesley, however sick and twisted, was important to her.

Just like Spike, who upon learning of Dru’s infidelities had begged her to come back, Gunn held his tongue and watched. Or listened, to be more accurate , he thought bitterly. I really need to get some ear plugs. Hands grappled for a pillow, hiding his head beneath it and hoping to drown out some of the betrayal which sounded through the wall.

This has to end.

Far away from the heartache of the other rooms, a petite blonde also lay curled against her lover, though without the depression her friend suffered. They had spent the entire night together, only falling asleep in the early hours of the morning. Buffy sensed that it had something to do with Spike’s confession about his mother. He treated her differently now, odd bashful smiles replacing the confident smirk she was familiar with. It made her wonder what other people had done after hearing the story. Obviously there had been some ridicule or fallout. Buffy resolved not to use it against him ever. I’d be lucky if he didn’t go on a rampage, after hearing about my family.

Her heart began to pump faster as she slowly moved down his chest. Last night had opened her eyes to a completely different aspect of Spike. He’d come into the room late after playing a round of poker with some of the other gang members. It was a customary informal gathering, more of a chance for them to drink and relax rather than play seriously. She’d caught him muttering about kittens and unfair strategies and asked whether he was ready for bed.

The look Spike had given her still sent shivers down her spine.

Stalking towards her, the man had shed his clothes with barely a care. The heavy black duster had been first, falling into a heap as he shrugged it off his shoulders. Tight muscles flexed enticingly as the red shirt he wore slid off to rest near the black leather.

flashback

Buffy slowly backed up, surprised at the glint of desire which flickered in twin blue orbs. Why is he looking at me like that? Her breath caught in her throat as long lean fingers undid the belt, Spike wrapping it around her waist before dragging her close.

“Are you really all that tired luv?” Spike’s tongue curled behind his teeth as his hips moved forward of their own accord. His mouth, already curling into a smirk, widened at the small shake of her head. “I’m glad”, he whispered softly. “Don’t want you to be sleepy before I even start.”

Buffy’s eyebrow arched in confusion; what was he planning? “Start what?” she asked.

Spike’s leer grew to gigantic proportions. This was going to be delicious. “You’ll see pet.” He silenced further questions with a rough kiss, nibbling at her bottom lip and then sucking it into his own mouth. The bleached blond groaned appreciatively, when she responded, one hand cradling the back of her head gently.

When the need to breathe became too great, Spike broke the kiss, trailing his mouth down her neck and shoulder. He could feel Buffy’s small hands, pushing the hem of his black t shirt up and decided to strip. See if this doesn’t wake the chit up.

Stepping back, Spike pulled the shirt up and over his chest, inch by aching inch. He could hear his love’s gasp as tossing the shirt away, he undid the zipper which hid his aching erection.

Buffy was speechless.

“Cat got your tongue luv?”

Spike’s hand reached down, stroking the hot flesh up and down slowly. He could feel the petite blonde’s eyes on him and grinned mercilessly. Moving towards her, in the same manner as before, the Brit pushed Buffy gently back onto the bed. Her legs instantly parted and he kneeled between them, working at the buttons on her jeans. From now on, she’s going to wear skirts Spike resisted the desire to simply ripe the confining clothes from her and only after several excruciatingly long minutes, deposited the hated jeans on the floor.

“I like these kitten” said Spike as he gazed on the thin red g string which was all that separated him from his prize. He could already smell Buffy’s musk, and licked his lips at the thought of what she would taste like.

Spike’s eyes connected with jade as he curled two fingers into her tight quim and pushed up. Buffy immediately arched in response, her chest still covered by a tight shirt and bra. She didn’t know what the man had in mind, but if he didn’t do something, she was likely to scream. The woman silenced her inner voice which slyly reminded her that no matter what she would end up calling out Spike’s name at the top of her lungs.

Her mouth dropped open in shock, when Spike removed his soaked fingers and licked them clean.

“Delicious.”

Buffy only shuddered in response.

Seeing the effect he was having on the petite blonde’s senses, Spike dipped his head down to the apex between her thighs. The thong was absolutely drenched with nervous shivers running up and down both lean thighs. The man struggled to control his desire, running the tip of his tongue around the outer edges when Buffy’s hands grabbed hold of his hair.

“Please Spike. Please… I need…”

“Need what pet?” Spike blew hot air against her quim, loving the way her hands tried to push him closer. Kitten wants it bad. He pressed his palm against her clit before pinching it lightly. “C’mon, tell Spike what you want.”

Buffy intertwined her fingers in short platinum locks desperately. “Please kiss me.”

”Where pet?” asked Spike. He knew that she had not been touched before him but this shyness was unexpected. When his spitfire didn’t answer, he took pity on her. He nibbled on her inner thigh, flicking her clit lightly as she gasped. “Is this where you want to be kissed pet?”

Buffy shook her head. “Go higher.”

Spike grinned, licking at her hip bone. “Am I close now?”

“Kind of”, she whispered. Her entire body felt like it was on fire, Spike’s hand still pressing and pinching that special part of her that she had barely ever touched. She sighed when Spike’s lips touched the top of her mound.

“How close am I luv?”

“Very close.”

Spike nodded, brushing his nose down her slit as her hands dragged his face forward. He didn’t have a chance to ask her whether he was in the right spot before she placed his face firmly between her thighs.

This is bloody heaven.

His tongue moved in ever tightening circles around her pearl, nipping at the sensitive nub at intervals. Buffy’s legs continued to tighten around him as the girl writhed on the bed. Even if another man touched her, they would never be able to best him. Spike delved his tongue deep inside when he felt her small feet rub down his spine. God I love this girl.

He buried his tongue as deeply inside as possible as ever so quickly a tremble began to race across Buffy’s body. The nectar which flowed, coated his mouth, tasting like something akin to raspberries and honey. Spike arched his tongue before replacing it with his fingers as the quaking increased.

Looking up he could see Buffy’s flushed cheeks and starry expression, delight washing over her mouth as she gazed at him.

The man was nothing if not a sexual being.

Buffy smiled, licking her lips at the slanted cheek bones and sensual lips which were covered with her dew. He would bathe in it if he could, she thought with surprise. Her body shuddered with the beginnings of climax as Spike slowly dipped his head back down, keeping eye contact with her the entire time.

Her fingers clawed into the bed coverlet, crying out in abandon as Spike’s mouth drove her to ecstasy. It only took one more nip at her clit before the petite blonde’s orgasm ripped through her, Spike’s name being screamed so loud, the entire house could hear.

end flashback

Buffy grinned, tongue sliding lazily over the man’s jutting hip bone. Spike had given her only a minute to recover before he thrust into the hilt, making her come a second time. The time spent after had been filled with repeated actions and whispered caresses, filling with her an unexpected calm. He might never tell her the words again but at least Spike showed it.

Sated, the woman rested her head on her lover’s thigh, pulling the sheet’s down to her level. Hopefully he’ll wake up before Peaches , she thought buoyantly. “That way, I can get a repeat performance.”





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