Well, here you go--13 reviews; Spuffy Realm readers rock! I just hope this lives up to your expectations...

They’d discussed this. Maybe not in much detail, but they had. She told him that she was ok with it, that she was ready and, strangely enough, willing. This is for the mission. Stop acting like it means anything more than that, you git.

Spike was pacing back and forth at the foot of the bed like a caged animal. He needed a smoke more than anything, but she’d warned him--if he smelled like tobacco, she wasn’t going anywhere near him. Fuck! He needed to calm down, take a few deep breaths. He sat on the couch and stared at the bathroom door.

Slayers had been his fascination since the day that Angelus had mentioned them. He’d never heard of them before that, of course. But from that day on, he’d made it his business to hunt them down and kill them. He’d found many of them, and had fought them. Only two had died at his hands, though. Closing his eyes, he tried to recall the Chinese girl’s face--if he tried hard enough it came to mind. He really wished he knew what she’d told him before he’d snapped her neck. For all he knew, it may have been anything from ‘Say goodbye to my family for me’ to ‘Try the hot & sour soup at Lo Bu’s--it’s really good’. Most likely the former.

Then there had been that black girl in New York. Now she’d fought like a Slayer. She had attitude, she had fought tooth and nail, and she had died. Did he feel bad? Did he have regrets? No. It had been an equal battle. It could have just as easily been her who walked off that subway car, still wearing that black leather coat. His remains would have been swept up with the crumpled passes and cigarette butts.

And now, almost twenty-five years later, he found himself sitting on a couch in a hotel in London, waiting to bite the current Slayer in order to save the world. He broke out in a grin and licked his lips: he wouldn’t have it any other way.

***

Buffy stared at her reflection. God, I look like crap. Why can’t my hair stay up? She didn’t really want to stop and wonder why she was primping just minutes before going against all she’d ever learned as a Slayer. Why was she letting him bite her? Oh, yeah--another possible apocalypse. Sounds like a good enough excuse. However, she knew that if at that very moment, she had to explain it to Giles, it would come out all wrong, and it would sound like the stupidest excuse in the world.

Well, time to face the music, bite the bullet and all that crap. She pulled her hair into a ponytail--the only way her hair seemed to want to stay, and walked out the door.

She saw that Spike had changed into his flannel pants. He’d been perched on the couch when she walked out, but he stood up when he saw her. Her heart skipped a beat as she thought ahead of what was to come--she remembered her body’s reaction to Angel’s bite, and she didn’t know if tonight would lead to a repeat experience. Would Spike laugh at her if it did? No, she had this crazy feeling that he would be too busy enjoying his part in it to stop and mock her.

In his eyes, she would never be more beautiful. Washed clean of any makeup, hair up in a ponytail, and dressed in some silly cotton pajamas--‘Yummy Sushi’? What the heck was that?--she smelled of vanilla and everything that was Buffy Summers. He could see the apprehension in her eyes, as she found the nerve to break the silence.

“So--how are we going to do this?” It was easier to leave the finer details up to him. After all, he was more experienced in this sort of thing. She blushed at the way he stared at her, emotions no longer hidden. He wanted this, he wanted her and she felt something in her gut warm at the thought of such an intimate moment with him. They were hiding behind “The Mission”, but she knew that this was going to mean much, much more to both of them. She walked to him and let him take her hand.

How ‘bout I throw you on the bed and shag you into oblivion?--no, that wouldn’t do. You deserve more than that. “It’s really up to you, pet--however you feel more comfortable. We could do it standing up, which I don’t really recommend with the blood loss an’ all. We could lie down on the bed, but I don’t know how you’d feel about that... Or I could sit down here on the couch and you could sit on my lap.” He really hadn’t given it any prior thought. There was probably a more honourable way of going through with it, but he preferred the close physical contact. After her displays of affection out by the Tower, he was certain that she wouldn’t shy away from a little touching.

Buffy reflected on the options he was presenting her with. She didn’t even pause to consider the standing option. He was right--the last thing she needed was to humiliate herself by fainting and bumping her head on the coffee table. Lying down? Way too close to sex--actually could lead to sex if the usual sparks happened between them. They’d hated each other until what, a few days ago? And now, they couldn’t seem to hold hands without some serious sparkage. What was the third option, again? Oh yeah, sitting on his lap on the couch.

She knew she was doomed when the lesser evil was straddling him. “Ok, Monty. Looks like it’s gonna be door number three.”

He nodded in assent and sat down in the middle of the couch. Still holding his hand, she stood before him and climbed up onto his lap, one knee placed on either side of him. He couldn’t help but hold his breath as the heat from her body transferred to his own. Every point of contact between them, from her hands on his shoulders to the apex of her thighs against his lap, burned him. His voice was rough from his need for her. “Ready, luv?”

She tried to remember the calming methods that Giles had taught her. Breathe in... Breathe out... Calm air in... Stressed air out... It wasn’t working, however. Underneath her, she felt the vampire’s tension at their proximity. Buffy closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to slow the beating of her heart. She leaned in closer and placed her lips by his ear. A whisper was all that was required. “Yes.”

Spike cupped his hand to her neck, pulling it to his mouth. Although she outwardly seemed calm, the demon felt her pulse quicken and her muscles tense. He couldn’t bring himself to bite her like this--he wanted her to crave the bite, not fear it. Bringing his lips to her neck, he placed an open-mouthed kiss over her artery.

Slow, wet kisses trailing down her neck. A strong hand splayed against her hip, brushing lazy circles under her top. That wasn’t exactly what the young woman had been bracing for. What was he doing? He finally had his chance--how long had he been jonesing to bite her, and now that he had his chance he seemed to be... seducing her? Not that she was complaining--nope, not at all. This was much better than the sit and bite she’d imagined. The things he was doing with that tongue of his--slowly tracing a line up her throat, across her jaw...

She couldn’t help but let a groan escape when she felt his teeth on her earlobe. It had been so long since she’d... “Oh God, Spike.” She felt him pull her even closer to him, until there was no space between them.

When she slid down on his lap, stopping only when chest met chest and pelvis hit pelvis, Spike had to stop. He rested his forehead on her shoulder, panting. Could she feel his need for her? Of course she can, you git! She’s sitting right on top of it. And she’s so bloody hot... He pulled back and stared into her eyes.

He wanted her so bad, and she could feel his need--the hard reminder was wedged right under her. When he pulled back and simply looked at her, she realized that he obviously meant for this to be about her. Why else didn’t he have her pinned on the couch, teeth in her neck?

But she wasn’t one to have all the fun--she could make this about him, too.

A wicked grin on her lips, she began to grind her pelvis down into his erection. The fire in his eyes told her that he needed her as badly as she needed him. When he tilted his head back, moaning, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his throat. Through her ministrations, she heard him mutter ‘Fuck’ under his breath; in response, she lightly bit his neck.

Spike had lost the moment where this had gone from “Biting for the Mission” to a full-fledged snogging session. Maybe the Powers That Be were paying him back for not having killed that portly salesman--why else would he be sitting here, with the Slayer nibbling on his neck, rocking her pelvis against his and... trying to pull his shirt off? Every joke he’d ever said about her being frigid died right there and then. He lifted his arms, helping her remove his T-shirt.

Figuring that she’d had the upper hand long enough, he brought his hands up to her side, sliding them under her top. He cocked an eyebrow, silently asking her permission.

Okay, Buffy. This is the moment. There’s no going back at this point--do you say ‘yes’, or do you say ‘no’? She had no doubts that if she shook her head, the issue would be dead. He would move on to something else and not pressure her about it. On the other hand, she was sure that if she said ‘yes’, her life would branch into a totally different direction, which may not be so bad after all. She nodded, giving him her assent.

Spike lifted the garment slowly, wanting to memorize every inch of her taut stomach, her tender breasts. He’d never been intimate with a human before--he didn’t know if he’d ever get over the heat that it produced. He found his own skin tingling as her warmth transferred to his body. Unable to resist any longer, he leaned in and took one of her nipples in his cool mouth and cupped the other in his hand.

Buffy damned Angel and that poophead Parker. Why hadn’t they shown her that sex could be so intense? Here she was, with Spike, enjoying the best sexual experience of her life--and they still had their pants on! She realized that he had begun to thrust his own pelvis up towards her rocking motions. When had that started? Oh, great--I’m so busy over-analyzing everything that I’m missing out on stuff. Bad Buffy--no more thinking!

At that moment, where she bid herself to stop thinking, Buffy felt the beginnings of her climax. It was still far enough, but there was the twisting in her gut, the heat pooling between her legs, the need for more contact. She pulled the blonde vamp from his ministrations, smashed her lips to his, rocking against him with an increased fervour. Their tongues duelled and he began to pant in between kisses. Why does he do that? No! No thinking--concentrate on... ungh...

Spike pressed his hands against her hips, trying to slow her down. If she keeps this up, I won’t last... He pulled his lips away from hers and saw his raw need reflected in her hazel depths. The scent of her arousal surrounded him. He knew that he wouldn’t last much longer--not like this, especially not if she let him...

There it was. Her breath hitched, her body froze and she whispered “Now”.

Lost in his own fight against release, Spike’s muddled reasoning didn’t quite grasp what she meant. “Huh?”

The young woman leaned her head back and pulled his face to her neck. “Oh my God, Spike. Now!” When she felt him hesitate, she added “Please.”

Her release hit her as she watched his features change—she knew that the demon was finally free. When his teeth sank into her neck, she felt a rush of heat spread throughout her body. She felt like she was on fire as he drank deeply, pulling her life force past his soft lips. She didn’t understand why the sensation was so sensual to her. Logically, he was performing an act that was meant to kill her; but it was more than that to her—she felt as if they now were sharing an intimate bond.

As her climax ebbed, body still shaking from the aftershocks, she realized that she had let out a long, drawn-out moan. Funny, she’d never imagined herself as being very vocal during sex. It had always seemed over-dramatic, like that horribly funny porno she’d watched once, late at night. However, she had the feeling that the release of that wail, at that particular moment, had added to the sensations that had ripped through her small frame.

The grip Spike had on her hips tightened almost to the point of being painful—gonna have some serious bruises there tomorrow, and she felt rather than heard him growl. The feral sound he made was so primal that it traveled straight to her centre. She held him tighter as she felt his body begin to twitch.

He didn’t belong there. No creature of the night, who had killed so many people without mercy, deserved a place in Heaven. Because that’s where he was—he had no doubt. Her golden hair, tanned limbs, the heat that was sure to burn him, the life that he was presently draining from her soft neck. The power contained within her blood was nothing like he’d ever tasted. As it traveled in his mouth, down his throat and through his veins he felt invincible; heck, he’d even try to walk out into the sun—he almost knew that with the force of the Slayer running within his body, he could take on that pillock of a sun and come out of it alive… er, undead.

Colours began to dance at the back of his eyelids as he heard her wail. He tried to hold back, make it last forever—or at least until Buffy had finished her own release. His body hummed with the pent-up energy of his building climax, and he knew that he couldn’t hold on for long. When he felt her pulse slow a little, and that instead of pushing him away, as he expected, she held him closer, he gave in.

His body felt as if it was being reanimated. He’d seen all those old movies, where the evil scientists tried to bring the dead to life—usually with a bolt of lightning or some rot. Well, that’s what it was like at that moment—it was as if he had a good dose of electricity running through his limbs. He wished more than anything that he was buried in that heat of hers, instead of still being half-clothed. But he would take whatever he could get. And it didn’t get much better than this, he thought as his muscles twitched their post-coital staccato. He pulled his teeth from her neck, lapped at the wounds until the bleeding slowed, and lay his forehead down on her shoulder.

He was panting. Now why did she find that so sexy? And why the hell was she still turned on, after having the best close-to-sex of her life? She felt him lick her neck again, guessing that he was probably not going to waste whatever blood was still trickling though. She felt a little faint—no big surprise, with all the blood he had taken. She pulled back a little and found that he was still in demon guise.

Strangely enough, she didn’t feel compelled to pull away, hide her eyes from the demon and the reality of what she’d shared with it. With him. His amber gaze was as naked and tender as his blue eyes had been--and they were just as expressive. Of course, she thought to herself, they’re both Spike--man and demon. It’s not like there was a switch inside of him--man/good, demon/bad. The man could have done some pretty damnable things, and right now the demon was looking at her with tenderness. Boy, did the Council have it all wrong, or what?

Spike felt a little ill at ease with the way that Buffy was looking at him. Maybe it was the warmth in her eyes--he wasn’t used to that. Anger, yes. Hatred, yes. Compassion, no. Love? No, not even Dru--she’d always been in her own world, and he’d been part of that but he wasn’t sure if she’d ever reciprocated his love. As she gently drew her finger across his ridges, he realized that he was still in his game face. She didn’t pull back, she wasn’t disgusted. She seemed to accept it, and that meant more to him than she could ever imagine. Taking her hand in his, he placed a chaste kiss on her lips before pulling her to him in an embrace. It felt so right to have her in his arms. He could only hope that this would last longer than their mission.

Surrounded by his strong arms, Buffy felt safe. For the first time since she’d become the Slayer, all her worries temporarily disappeared, replaced only by the comforting rumbling of her lover’s purr.

***

They sat there, both panting, bodies still closely connected. When he felt her shiver, Spike pulled a throw blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around the young woman. He didn’t know what to expect after what they’d shared. People did things in the heat of the moment--things they regretted. Was this how she’d see this? When she sighed and snuggled against his chest, he knew that he was worrying himself over nothing.

Although she’d now been with two vampires (what kind of Slayer did that make her?), Buffy still found it odd to lean her head against a chest that contained no heartbeat. It didn’t mean anything, strangely enough, as the only human she’d ever been intimate with proved to be a jerk. Smiling to herself, she broke the silence. “I guess ‘wow’ would be an understatement, wouldn’t it?”

Spike let out a chuckle. “I reckon’ so. I’m thinking more along the lines of ‘bloody fucking amazing’.”

The Slayer laughed out loud. However, a small part of her couldn’t help but wonder just how ’bloody fucking amazing’ it would be if they weren’t wearing any clothes. She leaned closer into him, laying her head on his shoulder. Her eyes grew wide as she felt something grow... again. Her head snapped up and she pressed her pelvis down. “Are you... already...”

With a sexy smile, the vampire nodded. “Vampire stamina, luv. Don’t worry, though--I’m feeling kind of gross right now--I’m gonna go clean up a bit. Change my pants, if you catch my meaning.”

Buffy slid off him, noticed the distinct wet spot at his crotch and squeaked an embarrassed “okay”.

When Spike was in the bathroom, the young woman ran to a mirror. Tilting her head to the side, she pressed her fingers to the new bite. It had closed off and was no longer bleeding--Spike had seen to that, as not a drop of blood had been wasted. She rolled her eyes as she noticed that he’d placed his own bite over that of his Sire’s. Great, she thought to herself, now I’m part of their pissing war.

She turned the lights off around the small apartment and crawled into bed. Not like Mr. Vampire needs lights to get to bed. Lying down, she pulled the covers up to her neck; would he expect anything else? Shaking her head, she reminded herself that she wasn’t supposed to be thinking--just bask in nice warm after-sex feelings. Except that it wasn’t really sex... Argh! Where was Mr. Gordo when she needed him...

***

He had never, ever, come in his pants. Not his first time, as a fledgling, did he lose control like that. Not even when he and Dru had shagged in the Chinese Slayer’s blood. In all honesty, though, Spike was proud that he lasted as long as he did, with the Slayer’s hot, tight body writhing on top of him... Stop it or you’ll never get out of the bloody bathroom! He looked at the crumpled flannel pants that were thrown into a heap by the wall. If things kept up, he’d run out of clean clothes--fast. Gotta find a launderette somewhere.

He put the toilet lid down and sat on it. Cupping his chin in his hands, he stared ahead. Why was he acting like such a poof? The worst thing was that not even the demon felt bad--hey, it had gotten its blood, why should it complain? Then it hit him... Nonono--it couldn’t be. He was horny, he was obsessed with Slayers, it was the call of her blood... anything but love! Master vampires did not fall in love with Slayers in less than a week; hell, master vampires did not fall in love with Slayers, period.

But master vampires didn’t drool at the smell of homemade soup or leave victims alive or help avert any apocalypses, either. Shit.

When he walked out of the bathroom, Spike saw that Buffy had turned off all the lights. He knew she was still awake, though, as her breathing was still too quick. That and she wasn’t snoring... He made his way to the bed and slipped in under the covers. Yeah, he could fall asleep anywhere--crypt, dirt floor--but nothing beat a nice soft bed.

He slid behind the Slayer and spooned her. “You alright with this, pet?”

There was a pause, as the young woman gave it some thought. “Yeah, I am. It’s weird, you know, ‘cause I know this shouldn’t be. I mean, it’s not exactly normal for either of us, but I’m beginning to realize that logic doesn’t really have a place in sex and love, and everything in between.”

The blonde vamp let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Why, after everything that had conspired, did he still doubt his Slayer? “Mmm... I remember some smart bloke saying something to the effect that ‘Love isn’t brains’ or some rot like that. It’s about time that you figured that out for yourself.” All he got as an answer was an elbow in the ribs.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, kissed the back of her neck and they both fell into a peaceful sleep.

Author's Note: Well, there you go. Please let me know what you thought. And again, thanks to all those who reviewed.