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Author's Chapter Notes:
I hope you aren't all going to kill me, but there's only one more chapter after this and an epi. *runs and hides*
Chapter Six

Somehow she’d found herself alone with Spike in the dark. Buffy was positive that Giles, Xander and Willow had been with them when they’d all started off heartily for a routine patrol—skilfully avoiding the trip to see Joyce and informing her of the wedding-to-be. But now that they were upon Revello Drive, Buffy finally noticed everyone had wandered off. Everyone, that is, except for Spike. Spike, in his slick leather coat and his big chunky boots. Spike, with his heavy arm getting heavier around her shoulders and with the muscles that could make a girl weep for wanting to touch.

“So, Slayer. Finally we’re all on our lonesome.”

It was terrifying that Buffy now knew him so well that she didn’t need to see the self-satisfied smirk that had always made her fume to know it was there. Now his over-confident swagger routine made her blood run hot and fast.

She felt nervous all of a sudden. The last time she’d been truly alone with Spike, he’d been kissing her senseless outside Giles’s front door. If the glint in Spike’s eyes right now was self-created and not just a reflection of the street-light, she’d lose no bets that such intimacy was on his mind again.

Buffy gulped, looked down at the ground in an effort to control her breathing and grasp onto reality—her boring, non-Spike-kissing-and-sex reality—and felt the heat of his stare just as powerfully. Her eyes soon recognised the lack of anything interesting to study on the ground and she was back to gazing wantonly at Spike, unable to hide the longing she felt to feel his touch on her skin again.

“You know, without your mates here pushing us toward your mum’s, there’s no rush to go tell her anything.” Spike looked at her suggestively and Buffy realised she didn’t need a degree in Parker to understand what Spike had on his mind.

“W-what…um…okay.” Was it bad that Buffy was hoping she wasn’t wrong with the believing Spike was after something more than her blood on tap?

He bit his lip in that suggestive way that made her weak and wet and jerked his head toward the cemetery they’d been on the verge of leaving. “There’s a nice, quiet crypt back there. Might be nice to do some…exploring.” Spike’s gaze surveyed her from head to toe and then slowly back again, evil totally on his mind as he grinned at Buffy’s embarrassed flush.

“That…um…that sounds really…eep—” There was no chance to finish as Spike snagged her hand and tugged her back toward the first promising structure with a door not hanging off its hinges.

It was dark inside and Buffy nervously relied on Spike to guide her. His hand felt uncharacteristically warm in hers and it made Buffy wonder what she was doing here with him. The first time she’d given into his touch it had been a necessary aberration—a lifesaver—that she’d convinced herself she’d needed so she could finally close her eyes and go to sleep. To submit again would be conceding that Willow’s spell had more power over her than she’d been willing to admit. Not that she was still being influenced by her friend; her eyes had just been opened to possibilities she’d rather not to have ever caught a glimpse of.

Getting it on with the most evil of her past enemies didn’t seem wrong, however. At least, not as wrong as getting it back on with her formerly-evil-turned-soulful ex had seemed. The looks of fear and panic her reunion with Angel had received had been understandable, but other than the expected wig of her friends, they’d accepted the bizarre truth of her intended marriage to Spike with barely a raised brow. They all hated him, none of them trusted him, and yet for the first time, they’d apparently trusted her judgment in men. Although, they’d fully supported her pursuit of Parker and had made as big a mistake as she had, so maybe they’d momentarily backed off from being her moral guide.

Nah. That didn’t seem likely. A better explanation would be that they didn’t believe her and probably suspected she was just trying to save face.

They wouldn’t be thinking that now if they could see Spike leading her into temptation.

She felt his hands circle her waist and he slowly pushed her backwards, stopping only when her butt nudged the hard surface of a sarcophagus. He tenderly lifted her and gently sat her on the lid, stepping into the gap created between her knees and resting his forehead against hers. He was breathing in tremors against her lips and Buffy felt it all the way through her body, his grip still at her waist but his fingers nudging the hem of her top.

“I’ve been wanting to get you alone ever since you dragged me back through Rupe’s door.” His soft lips brushed away her reply and Buffy’s eyes closed. There was no need to stubbornly try and see into the darkness when there were other more tantalising scenes playing behind her lids.

The kiss burned, lips barely meeting hers as Spike rubbed them sensually back and forth, making her moan desperately for something more—something deeper. And then he was pressing his lips more firmly against hers as his tongue outlined them and then nudged at the slit. Buffy moaned and he seized the opportunity, his tongue crashing through the new opening and sliding against her own. It was bliss—it was torture of the highest scale as Buffy’s body exploded with heat and need. Her hands gripped the leather covering his arms and she slid forward just a little so that his pelvis was rubbing against her, allowing her to finally wrap a leg around his hips and haul him closer.

Heart thudding at a life-threatening pace, Buffy couldn’t control the urge that had her hands sliding up the smooth cool leather of his coat arms and tangling in the softened curls at the nape of his neck. There was no hurry in the way his hands sought the skin under her shirt, but when he finally made contact Buffy felt like he’d shredded the fabric just to get there. Sensations burst into colours in her head and her body began to rock against the hard barrier keeping her seated and as she found new places to cling to, Buffy realised that she’d never felt anything quite this powerful before.

Nothing inside would allow her to lose the sweet memories she had of Angel. He’d been her heart and her soul for so long and he’d introduced her to the pleasures of the flesh. By no means had it been forgettable. Every second she’d been near him she’d wanted him. Every touch had made her swoon. But this…Spike was boiling her blood and sending it rocketing through her body toward some kind of escalating crescendo that she just knew would be more than she was ready for.

And yet, it was impossible to say no.

“Buffy,” he whispered against the corner of her mouth, and then Spike was sweeping kisses over her cheeks, eyes and down to the long column of her neck. He nipped at the point where her blood pulsed against her fragile skin and she couldn’t hold back the eager moan. It would be so easy to let things continue. Her body ached for it and Buffy felt like she was beyond controlling anything else anymore. If her body wanted it, and her brain was lethargic in supplying the reasons why it was wrong, shouldn’t she just go along with the game? Shouldn’t she just submit to Spike’s experience and let him fry her brain with lust once again?

There was already too much she didn’t understand, and as her misgivings and fears started to fight their way to her conscience, Buffy bestowed a trembling kiss against his eyelid and gently pushed him away. But even though her mind was beginning to reject the easy pleasure she could have, her hands didn’t want to surrender his skin so soon and she stroked softly his cheek and then his jaw, shaking with the effort to control the tears threatening to spill at the thwarted love-making.

“This is wrong.” The words tumbled past her lips, even though there wasn’t one little molecule within her that backed up the claim. Buffy bit her lip against the ache of tears in her throat and struggled to think.

It was wrong.

Yesterday she’d hated Spike with a passion that manifested in physical revulsion, and now…now she couldn’t get enough and all her earlier assertions that he was evil and would kill her the second he lost his leash had become far too quiet.

He pulled away, an angry scowl on his face. “Knew it was coming eventually. I’m guessing no shag then?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned quickly from her shocked expression and searched his pockets for a cigarette. The click of the lighter and its accompanying flash of fire startled her—despite it being expected—and Buffy bit down the censorious words that wanted to flay him alive.

Was that all she was to him? Had he brought her here just to get off with her? Maybe getting her hot and willing was just the balm to soothe his battered ego since he’d weakened his image by coming to them for help. She’d thought…well, it was obviously stupid what she’d thought. The feel of him so close to her had made her gag the previous night and she was foolish to think he had been any less revolted by her, and yet through the hours of darkness he’d made love to her body so sweetly that Buffy had forgotten he was evil and dangerous and a monster with whom she should be ashamed of sharing herself.

“No,” she spat, feeling her heart shrivelling uncertainly as she stared at where she thought his back was. “No…shag. God, could you be any cruder?”

There was nothing to straighten and Buffy was grateful—though angry—that they hadn’t managed to get so far that her clothing would be half askew. Where minutes ago she was vibrating with swirling heat, she was now being chilled with icy confusion coursing through her veins. She wanted to give him the time limit now. She wanted to warn him that it was time to stage a break-up, but her tongue was numb and uncooperative.

There was the loud scraping of his heels as Spike stomped in one direction, clicked his lighter once again to life, and delivered her from darkness. The relief that flooded her senses was enough to make her sweat and crave his arms in a reassuring hug.

Until she saw his face—hardened and unapproachable.

“You don’t think your little Scooby gang is gonna find it a bit odd that you want to call it quits so soon after announcing you’re not out of your gourd?” The smirk that twisted around the butt between his lips made every foul word Buffy had ever heard rise to the edge of her tongue. She wanted to let fly, she wanted to kick his legs out from under him and remind herself how much she’d enjoyed turning him into Spike-pulp. It was just yesterday. Yesterday she would have gladly staked him if not for the handicap that made him weak and defenceless. Not that he looked it now, standing there the epitome of the Big Bad that had dogged her every step of the way the year she’d met Angelus for real.

Was she ending this too soon? Would ‘breaking-up’ with Spike now clue her friends into the real reason she’d allowed it to go so far in the first place?

It didn’t matter. Allowing this intimacy with Spike to continue was digging her own grave. He confused her too much. He made her body sing and melted her heart where she had once enjoyed its frozen prison. Erecting fences was definitely the best thing for her to do now—but why did it make her feel suddenly hollow?

“They know enough of us both to realise that it would take an act of God to stop us from killing each other eventually. So I don’t think us staging a break-up so soon will be an issue.”

His glare crushed her and her confusion just stretched out further. How did one night change the game so much that Buffy no longer knew how to interact with her longest-held enemy?

“No.”

The cigarette was flicked across the floor and Buffy followed the sparking embers as the tip winked out. Its dying existence seemed to make more sense than Spike’s harsh refusal and Buffy felt it difficult to focus on anything else.

“What?”

A stark silence was filled only with her galloping heartbeat and Buffy compulsively held her breath, waiting for his reply.

“I’m not ready for this to be over. I’m not going along with any of your hair-brained impulsive ideas.” With vampiric speed he was in her face, his eyes brighter and clearer than she’d ever taken notice of before. “My co-operation has kept your little secret safe and you promised me the chip’s removal if I went along with you. Well, until that little goal has been reached, you’re my bitch.”

Buffy gasped in the face of his rude demands, and yet she was breathless at the return of the Spike she’d first known. He’d always made her sweat when she had to fight him. It would be foolish and untruthful to deny that facing him had always made her consider defeat. Spike may not be able to take her out this second, but Buffy wondered how easy it would be for him to finally kill her when he was strong and unhindered once again.

It hurt.

The possibility that he might still want her dead after what they’d shared only one night ago hurt. They’d been intently working at raising the temperature for the second night running and only her misgivings had put the brakes on that. To think that it all meant nothing, that he felt nothing…it shouldn’t matter to her, but it did. It mattered a whole lot that another creature of the night wanted to kill her immediately after making love to her.

It was too much and Buffy felt like she couldn’t get enough air. Spike was in her face, fury over something she didn’t understand contorting his features, and she could barely breathe.

So she ran.





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