Buffy stood in front of the closet, staring at the clothing she’d been given by Zairah. She’d decided on the red leather pants and a black sparkly tank top. Looking through her earrings, she groaned. Great, my wardrobe screams ’vampire ho’ and I’m actually wasting time trying to accessorize. Uh, my life so sucks right now. Managing to avoid Spike, by an unusual stroke of good fortune, she scooted off to the bathroom to change and primp.

As she poured herself into the pants, the Slayer pondered her situation. What had she done, in her too-short lifetime, to deserve this? Maybe it was the time that she’d flushed her cousin Frances’ retainer down the toilet, or maybe when she’d dropped a couple of Alka-Seltzer tablets into the neighbor’s dog’s dish, or then again it could have been that time she put crazy glue on the rim of the birdbath... Ok, so maybe she deserved it. It didn’t mean she was going to enjoy it, though.

Her pants finally done up, she managed to figure out the string of a tank top that she’d chosen. Turning around to look at herself, she noticed a horizontal white strap peeking out from under the top’s back. She shrugged, shimmied out of the undergarment, and tossed it onto the growing pile of dirty laundry. Fine, so I won’t wear a bra, then. Might as well go with the full ’ho’ look.

She opened her makeup case and took out the new makeup she’d bought during her little excursion the previous day. For a little grocery store, they sure had a good makeup counter--yay Maybelline. She had found everything she needed for a good vamp-ho makeup look: deep red lipstick, pale foundation, dark eyeliner. She already had the black mascara--pretty much a standard in any woman’s makeup bag. Well, here goes, she thought to herself as she began to apply her foundation, let’s see what we can do with this makeup.

***

Spike was about to call out when he heard the bathroom door open. He’d been this close to barging in, but kept finding excuses not to. From everything to making sure his black nail polish was perfect (hey, a vamp might be evil, but he shouldn’t be sloppy), to checking his duster for new tears, to knowing that Buffy would be upset if he pressured her. He knew this whole set up was going to be tough on her. Not only because she’d have to act submissive towards him, but also because she’d never been anywhere so dreadful. Yeah, she was the Slayer, and she acted tough, but he didn’t know how even he’d react if they still had that live feeding station they’d installed last time he’d been there.

All coherent thought abandoned his mind, however, at the sight of the Slayer as she walked out from the bathroom. The little top she wore--without a bra, he noticed--was naughty, and her pants--were they painted on? Her makeup was excessive compared to what she usually wore, but she’d blend in at the Nex. He couldn’t help the pull his body felt towards hers. Hopefully, those pants were too tight for her to kick him.

Buffy didn’t know what to make of the look Spike was giving her. Or rather, she didn’t know what to make of her body’s reaction to it--the look of pure, unadulterated lust. Her heart jumped to a staccato beat, her body heated up and her nerves began to tingle as he approached her. She used to cringe at that tingling, the one she’d always felt when he was near--Spike being nearby had never been a good thing. Until now. She opened her arms à la Vanna White and smiled seductively. “So, whaddaya think? Will I get into the Nex ok?”

Think? Who the hell can bloody think around someone so breathtaking? “Bloody hell, pet--it‘s all I can do to stop myself from taking you right here, right now.” Pulling her to him, he lowered his lips towards hers. When he felt her finger on his lips, he looked up, confused.

“Sorry, big bad--you’re going to be wearing as much lipstick as I am if you kiss me. Won’t be too scary going around with ruby red lips, will you?” Buffy had to laugh as she watched his mind process that thought. Her laugh stopped short when she saw a light go off in his mind. His eyes grew almost black as he lowered himself to his knees. Now what was he... Oh!

She was right--he couldn’t kiss her. Why hadn’t he taken advantage of that before she’d entered the loo? Should’ve ravaged her then. He could bite her, but based on last night that would probably mean a change of clothing for one, if not both, of them. There was definitely no time for a wardrobe change. Oh, well--a vamp had to be creative, didn’t he?

He nuzzled his head up under the scrap of a top she wore, edging his way up to her breasts. Latching onto one of her erect nipples, he suckled it, lightly nibbling. When he heard her sharp intake of breath, and felt her hands press his head to her chest, he knew she wanted this as much as he did. Flattening his tongue against the curve of her breast, he began to draw a circle, slowly spiralling towards its tip. His right hand gently cupped her other breast, kneading it.

What was it about this particular vampire--hell, this particular man--that could turn her to mush in seconds? Buffy writhed under Spike’s ministrations, the feel of his cool tongue on her breasts driving her insane, that quiet purring noise going straight to her core. Her desire began to pool at the apex of her thighs, and she knew that if they weren’t on their way soon, they’d never leave the room. Which, if not for a particular mission, wouldn’t be all that bad.

But they had a baby to find, and a world to save.

Her voice broke through his concentration. He felt like he was immersed in cotton--weren’t a vampire’s senses supposed to sharpen during sex? His had dulled and it took everything he could muster to rip his attention from the Slayer’s pert breasts to her face. She was telling him something--well, her lips were moving, but he couldn’t hear anything. Damn cotton.

“Spike? Come on, stand up.” He was looking at her with glazed eyes and she knew he wasn’t hearing a word she said. Good--I’m not the only one who’s being reduced to a vegetative state during these bouts of foreplay. She grabbed him by the lapels of his coat, and hoisted him up to a standing position. “We have to get going--you know, our mission? The Nex?”

She was right, and he knew it. No matter how much he wanted to say ‘fuck the mission’ and take her right there against the wall, he nodded. “Right. The mission.” He walked ahead of her to the door, but stopped. Acting on impulse, he pulled her into his arms, placing a searing kiss over his bite marks. Taking a step back, still holding her hands, he looked her straight in the eyes. “You do know that you’re special, don’t you, Buffy?”

It was more of a statement than a question, and she knew it. But the emotion behind his admission floored her. Had he been listening to her conversation this morning? No, she was pretty sure that he’d gone straight back to bed--he hadn’t seemed conscious enough to be that sneaky. How, then, had he known to say exactly what it was she needed to hear? Those words were all she needed to hear to know that everything they’d done--the talking, the friendship, the intimacy--meant as much to him as it had to her.

Knowing he didn’t really expect an answer, she pulled him back into an embrace.

“Thank you, Spike.”

***

“Well, here it is.”

Buffy looked ahead to where the blonde vampire was pointing. Turning around, she pointed at the empty lot. “This?! I dressed up like a skank so you could take me to some abandoned piece of dirt?” Punching him in the arm, she growled. “Spike, if this is part of some demented trick of yours, to get me out here, dressed like this, you’re toast--literally.”

She tried to only show the anger she felt--it would do her no good to let him know how upset she was at this. All this time, she’d begun to trust this vampire. He’d seemed to have a genuine interest in the mission, in saving the world--whether or not he’d freely admit it--but now it looked like it had all been one big joke. She felt betrayed--all the intimacy, the quiet moments, all for naught. She crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow, waiting to see what kind of excuse the peroxide blonde would come up with.

Spike was confused. “Don’t tell me you can’t feel them, Slayer. Close your eyes and relax--you’ll know what I mean.”

“Relax?! I’m standing at the edge of some empty field dressed like a prostitute, accompanied by a Billy Idol wannabe...” Her voice went up an octave. “...and you’re telling me to relax? Why, I should just...” The vampire’s hand clamped down over her mouth, and although she was tempted to bite him and continue her rant, she let him speak.

“Just shut up for two seconds, will ya? You’re always jumpin’ to conclusions, always tryin’ to find the worst in people. Well here’s a little newsflash for you, pet.” Spike removed his hand from her mouth and put it on her shoulder. He brought his face down to hers and looked her steadily in the eye. “I will not abandon you, I will not leave you, I will not betray you. I’d like to think that after we’ve been through you have more faith in me than that.”

Faced with his admission, spoken straight from the heart, Buffy swallowed hard. He was right. After all the people who’d left her--her father, Angel, even Parker--she’d worked at building a wall around her. It was much easier to take if you played all these horrible scenarios in your head, expecting one of them to come true--that way, when something bad did happen, it was less of a shock.

She looked up to him and smiled. “You’re right. I... I do have faith in you, it’s just hard to let myself truly believe it sometimes.” She looked again towards the lot, and frowned. “I do feel something, like there are a ton of demons, but I can’t see anything.”

His spirits lighter after their brief heart-to-heart, Spike clucked his tongue. “That’s cause there’s a cloaking spell. The Nex is really there, but anyone who isn’t a demon just walks by, thinking it’s an old bit of property.” His face grew serious. “Now, you remember what I told you? Always stand a little behind me, but make sure I can see you at all times. Keep your eyes down--eye contact for a slave is an act of defiance. Don’t speak unless spoken to--and always call me master, don’t move unless I move, don’t sit down unless I tell you to... You get the gist?”

“Yeah, I get the gist.” The Slayer put her hands on her hips. “You’re really going to enjoy this, aren’t you?”

“Every bleedin’ minute of it. Now get in step and hold on to my coat. I don’t know if you’ll be able to cross through on your own.”

***

Buffy’s jaw dropped at the sight that befell her as they crossed through the barrier. About twenty-five feet ahead of her stood a four-story stone building as old as any other in London. She could hear loud music pouring through the open front doors, where two demons the size of brick walls stood sentry. Bouncers--they look the same everywhere...

As they approached the building, the young woman noticed that instead of walking over to the side, where the lineup seemed to go on forever, Spike was leading them to the front doors. She was just about to point out the lineup when she remembered: slave--shut your mouth. Great. This was going to be a long, difficult night.

Spike knew this night would be great. What were the odds of ending up at the Nex, after a fifty-year absence, and knowing one of the bouncers? He took Buffy by the wrist and sauntered up to the closest bouncer.

The larger than life demon didn’t even look up. “Unless you’re looking for a shitload of pain, friend, I suggest you head over and stand in line like the other guests.”

Buffy tried to take a step back, fully acknowledging the underlying threat. Dressed as she was, there was no way she could fight this behemoth. Spike, however, remained in place. The young woman wondered what he was trying to pull--lot of good it would do them if they didn’t even get into the club.

The peroxide blonde smiled. “Now, is that a way to greet an old acquaintance?”

The Slayer watched as the bouncer paused and then looked up, grinning. “Spike! Haven’t seen your arse around here in bloody forever! What you been up to?” He smacked the vampire on the back, almost knocking him over.

Finding his balance, Spike hunched his shoulders. “You know how it is, Tony--same old, same old. Terrorize the innocent, burn down a few cities, havin’ fun.”

Tony turned an appraising look at Buffy, making her feel like a piece of meat. After tonight, she vowed she was going to wear a lot of baggy sweatpants and loose t-shirts.

“Speaking of fun...” He nodded at the Slayer. “You got a new girl?”

Spike stiffened at Tony’s comment. Although the bouncer didn’t seem to have noticed, Buffy did. She wondered if it was because it made him think of Drusilla, or because of how it made her look.

“Nah, she’s just my new pet. Got her down in California--right on the Hellmouth.” He looked at her with soft eyes and twirled a lock of her golden hair in his fingers. “Pretty little thing, in’t she?”

Tony walked around Buffy, eyeing her up and down. He clucked his tongue. “So, you sharin’, or is this one all yours?” He dragged a finger down along her spine, and it was all the Slayer could do not to shudder--that or rip the offending digit off.

Spike’s grip on her wrist got uncomfortably tight, and he pulled her sharply away from Tony’s roving hand. With a bit of a growl, he answered. “Sorry, mate. I’m not sharing her with anyone. She’s all mine.”

Buffy expected a manly show of posturing and fighting for the female--this was, after all, a couple of demons, and she was the tasty morsel. Ugh...he is so dead for this. However, Tony just shrugged and replied. “Suit yourself, mate.” Some little part of her thought wow, I’m not even worth a fight... But she knew that Spike would have fought, tooth and nail, for her. Things had really changed--once, they fought each other, and now they’d fight for each other. What was it that Hamlet guy said? Things aren’t right in the country of Denmark? Whatever, not like she paid attention in English class anyway.

Deciding to veer the subject away from his ‘pet’, Spike threw a glance at the doors. “So, who’s playing tonight?”

“Some band called the Headstones.” Tony let a few more patrons in. The night was cool, and many of them seemed eager to walk into the warm hub of the Nex.

Spike smirked at the band’s name. “Headstones, eh? Never heard of ‘em. They good?”

The bouncer leaned against the building--probably the only thing that wouldn’t cave in under his weight--and lit a cigarette. “They’re Canadian, and yeah--they’re really good. They’ve got the mosh pit in a right frenzy.”

The bleached vamp’s eyes grew. “The Nex has a mosh pit?!” He cursed the Slayer for being with him and he cursed the mission they were on. There was no better place for release of violent energy than a mosh pit. Pushing, fist fights, killing--and a demon mosh pit at that...

Exhaling a plume of smoke, Tony straightened up. “No, there usually isn’t a mosh pit. There is tonight, though. That band wasn’t on for 5 minutes before all the tables and seats had been tossed aside, and about 200 demons were slammin’ bodies. I’d watch your pet closely if I were you, her bein’ such a little thing.” He pulled the rope aside, and let Spike and Buffy by, much to the protest of those patrons still stuck in the lineup. “Come by on your way out, eh Spike? Be good to see you before you disappear for another fifty years.”

Spike clapped Tony on the shoulder. “Will do, mate. Ta.”

The two blondes walked to the entrance, and paid the cover charge. Turning towards the doors, Spike leaned in and whispered in his Slayer’s ear. “You ready, pet?”

She took a deep breath. Ready? That’s a good question. “I guess I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” She looked up at him quickly, momentarily forgetting her slave status, and gave him a quick smile. The softness in his blue eyes comforted her--she knew that she’d be safe, in her role as ‘pet’, as long as she stuck by him.

,Author's Note: Well helloo! Hope you're ready for the 'Nex' chapter (yes, you're allowed to groan) on Thursday. Thanks to all who have reviewed, and a special thanks to whomever nominated Dark Prophecy at the Vampire's Kisses awards. Go out there and vote! There are other great stories to look up and enjoy.