For the second time that night, Buffy found herself staring at the reflection in her bathroom mirror. She’d left Willow with a parting hug and a promise to be careful, before darting upstairs to reapply her make-up and—however inappropriately—change her underwear. The sight of her vampire in game face never failed to turn her on, and tonight had been no exception. Over the years, Spike’s sinister attraction had ruined more of Victoria’s best kept secrets than Buffy cared to mention, and tonight’s display of growly possessiveness had seen her squeezing her thighs together in a bid to create some much needed friction.
If it weren’t for the gravity of the situation, Buffy would have said to hell with it and dragged Spike towards the closest bedroom. Impropriety aside, it was undeniable that she’d wanted to get out of there. Wanted to be held and cherished. Wanted the sanctuary that only Spike’s arms provided. Nonetheless, self-control had won out, and she’d forfeited the easy option for the greater good.
Despite the fresh wounds of betrayal still tearing at her heart, Buffy believed the pain had been worth it. Grievances had been aired, and through an innocent slip of the tongue, progress had been made. Undoubtedly there was still a long way to go, but Willow had accepted her decision, and bridges had been rebuilt. Only time would tell if those fragile foundations held up under the strain, but for tonight, Buffy’s thoughts were centred on the man who’d turned her world upside down.
Pursing her lips, Buffy placed the tube of lip gloss on the counter and nodded in approval. She’d had the appetiser, now it was time for the main course. The sodden material of her panties made her squirm with anticipation, and a wicked smirk found its way to Buffy’s lips as she eyed the confident young woman staring back at her.
That vampire’s not going to know what hit him.
What’s the bleedin’ hold up? Spike’s discarded cigarette arced through the air as he paced across the decking. It had been ten minutes since Buffy went upstairs and his patience was wearing thin. ‘Won’t take long’, she says. ‘Makes me feel alive’, she says... That chit’s gonna be the death of me... or undeath... or—sod it. Where the bloody hell is she?
Not that he’d been intentionally eavesdropping of course. Hello! Vampire here. Was it his fault his enhanced hearing picked up every word that was said? And besides, he’d needed to make sure it wasn’t another ploy to separate him from his girl.
Don’t know why she bothers with ‘em. Only thing her mates are good at is causin’ heartache.
Agitated, Spike patted down his duster in search of the elusive packet of Marlboro’s. He was still reeling from Willow’s apparent acceptance of their relationship. Personally he didn’t give a rat’s arse what the Scoobies thought about him, but their opinions mattered to Buffy, and in the grand scheme of things it was beneficial to have them on side.
Even so, it would be a cold day in hell before Spike got up close and personal with another one of Willow’s ‘little balls of sunshine’. He doubted he’d ever forget the embarrassment of walking into Willy’s bar one night after patrol, and ordering a pint of O-Neg, with charred eyebrows and a prominent limp.
Bloody idiots couldn’t organise a gang-bang in a whorehouse, thought Spike, as his eyes fell upon the tree in Buffy’s back yard. Frustrated, he stuck a fresh cigarette between his lips, and snapped open his Zippo, lighting up by means of keeping his hands occupied. That’s it. Five more minutes an’ I’m goin’ in after her. Screw waitin’, I’ll carry her out if needs be.
Taking a deep drag, Spike blew a steady stream of smoke into the air as he attempted to calm his frayed nerves. This was ridiculous. Self-respecting vampires did not tremble like a virgin on a first date, and they certainly didn’t fall to pieces just because the object of their affection was off doing God knows what, when she should have been—Bugger all. Spike’s eyes bore into the wood panelling of the door, as if by sheer will alone, it would open and return his goddess to his side.
Sod self-respect. What kind of vampire fell in love with a slayer in the first place?
The answer was simple.
A bloody lucky one.
With a resigned sigh, Spike resumed his pacing. “Who’re you tryin’ to kid, mate?” he muttered whilst stomping his way through an impressive collection of fag ends. “That girl’s got you by the short an’ curlies. Next thing you know, you’ll be quittin’ the booze an’ earnin’ an honest wage. Love’s bitch to the end, you are.”
And he would do it. Without question, Spike knew he’d do whatever Buffy asked of him, and yet surprisingly, the idea of going against his nature wasn’t as galling as it should be. He’d already committed the ultimate betrayal—he was a killer of his own kind—a white-hat for pity’s sake. What was one more nod to conformity if it kept him the love of his Slayer?
“H-hey, Spike.”
Startled, the vampire released an unmanly squeak and spun to face the figure on the front lawn. “Glinda,” he said, trying to regain some sense of composure. “Didn’ anyone ever tell you not to sneak up on a vampire?”
Bloody hell. How much did she hear? That’s what I get for yammerin’ on like a nancy boy.
Tara merely smiled in response. “Shouldn’t it be the other way round?” she asked, completely unaffected by his posturing. “What with the whole evil creature-of-the-night thing.” She paused, eyes shining with good-humour, and it was impossible to miss the curve of her lips as she studied him intently.
“What’s so bleedin’ funny?” Spike asked, suddenly self-conscious. He ran his hand over his head to make sure his hair was at its slicked back best. Buffy had a fondness for freeing the unruly curls— much to his annoyance—and then checked his clothing for any glaring abnormalities. “What are you grinnin’ at?”
“You,” Tara replied. “Your aura... it’s beautiful.”
Spike scoffed. Beautiful, huh? “Wanna run that by me again, pet?”
“It’s changed,” Tara said with such reverence that Spike dropped the attitude and gave her his undivided attention. “It used to be a mixture of dark greens and blues. Anger... resentment... blame... fear—”
“Big Bads don’t get afraid.”
“Fear of the future,” Tara whispered, fully aware of the significance of her words. “The fear of what’s to come.”
“Right.” Spike swallowed hard. There was no arguing with that. “An’ now?”
“Now it’s showing as yellow and pink,” she replied, ignoring his obligatory eye-roll. It seemed that dead or alive, men responded the same way at a perceived slight on their masculinity. “Optimism, hopefulness... excitement.” Tara paused to admire Spike’s deer-in-the-headlights expression, and then climbed the porch steps to stand beside him. “Pink is good,” she said. “Pink symbolises love... purity... the start of a new relationship...”
Busted. Spike ducked his head nervously, unwilling to meet her eyes. “You don’t seem too bothered by the fact,” he muttered. “How come you’re not readin’ the riot act like the others?”
Tara blushed. “I suppose I had some inside knowledge.”
“Come again?”
“Yours isn’t the only aura that’s changed, Spike.” She smiled as a look of understanding dawned on his face.
“Buffy,” he whispered as he tossed his forgotten cigarette.
“Yeah,” Tara replied softly. “You weren’t the only one harbouring anger and resentment—n-not that I blame her for that,” she hastened to add as Spike’s eyes narrowed in warning.
Tara was well aware of her role in Buffy’s resurrection, and she was determined to do everything possible to make it up to her. Glancing towards the door, a frown marred the white witch’s features as she put two-and-two together. Spike had been in an obvious state of agitation when she arrived, and there was a residual trace of powerful magic lingering in the air. Tara’s heart sank as she realised the probable culprit.
“What happened here, tonight?” she whispered, not really wanting to hear the answer.
Burying his hands in his pockets, Spike sighed heavily and turned to face her. “Brain trust found out about the Slayer and yours truly. Needless to say they weren’t best impressed—figured I had her under a thrall or some bollocks. Anyway, Red tried to work some mojo an’ it backfired. Harris an’ his demon bird had a bust-up an’ now Buffy’s...” He scowled. “Actually, bugger if I know what Buffy’s doin’. Told me she wouldn’t be long. Wanted to try an’ hash it out with your girl, but I figured she’d be done natterin’ by now.”
Tara winced. “Willow’s not my g-girl... n-not anymore.”
Shaking his head, Spike breathed a dry chuckle. “Not that simple is it, pet? Can’t stop lovin’ someone overnight.” He paused as his lips curled into a rueful smile. “Hell, I should know that better than anyone.”
“I still love her, but...” Tara’s words rode off on a sigh. “I can’t be with someone who uses magic against me, Spike. She thinks I’m jealous of her powers. And that’s just... If she won’t listen to me then what am I supposed to do?”
Whether it was the heightened emotions of the night, or maybe just the desolate look in the young woman’s eyes, Spike felt a powerful urge to console the only scoobie he could stomach to be around. Anya, with her unique perspective, was good for a laugh, but the constant references to bumping uglies with the whelp were enough to make him dry-heave.
Spike shrugged, his mouth tightening into a knowing smirk. “Keep tryin’ till she does. Trust me, pet, I know a thing or two ‘bout dealin’ with stubborn bints. Was bloody tempted to tie the Slayer up an’ make her hear me out...” He frowned. “Not that it was overly successful the first time I tried it.” A delightful flush appeared on Tara’s cheeks and Spike levelled her with a steely gaze. “Red’s got herself in deep with this witchy business. The power’s gone to her head, and she’s gonna need your help to find herself again. Stick with it. I reckon she’s had a wake-up call tonight.”
“You think so?”
“Yeah,” Spike replied. “Live as long as I have, an’ you see all sorts of things in this world. Good and bad. The way I figure it, you’ve gotta hold on to the good when it comes around.” His eyes became distant as a wistful smile graced his lips. “Never give up on love, pet. No matter what.”
Bloody hell, mate. You’re turnin’ into a regular ‘Dear Abby’. Oh, how the mighty have fallen!
Tara looked doubtful. “And it works?”
Spike winked. “Got me the girl, didn’t it?”
His happiness was contagious and a corresponding grin was mirrored on Tara’s lips. “I think you’re right,” she said, stepping forward and placing a spontaneous kiss on his cheek. “Goodnight, Spike... and thanks.”
Stunned, he could only watch as she disappeared into the house. Well, what do you know? One-hundred-and-twenty-something years and this world was still capable of surprising him. Shaking his head, Spike turned to rest his arms on the wooden railing. His gaze swept aimlessly down the street, and it wasn’t long before the quiet click of the front door reached his ears, and a pair of arms banded around his waist.
“Miss me?” Buffy whispered as she rested her chin on his shoulder.
“What do you think?”
Spike turned his head to catch her eye. The dim light made it awkward to read her expression, and her voice was giving nothing away. From the moment they’d happened upon Willow’s spell, their plans for the night had gone up in smoke, and once again, Spike found himself on unsteady ground. He didn’t want to push Buffy into something she wasn’t prepared for, but likewise, he didn’t want to allow outside factors to dictate their relationship. Pasting a smile on his lips, he turned to face her, resting his hands on her hips.
“How’re things in Scoobyville?” he asked, feigning ignorance. “You two get everythin’ squared away?”
Keep it casual, mate. Let her set the pace.
“Better,” Buffy replied. “Never underestimate the power of a girly blub-fest. Things are far from perfect, but it’s a start.”
Absent-mindedly, Spike’s fingers smoothed over the fabric of her skirt as he pulled her flush against his body. “We all set then?” he asked with barely disguised optimism. Buffy was making no move to pull away, and he allowed himself to hope that maybe things were still on course. “Vamps to slay, world to protect, you know the drill, love.”
A small frown formed on Buffy’s lips as she gazed at him through heavy lashes. “Can we take a rain-check?” she said, leaning in to ghost a kiss across his lips. “After all the excitement, patrolling isn’t very high on my list of give-a-damn right now.”
Bollocks.
Exhaling deeply, Spike resigned himself to the fact that his only bed fellow would be a bottle of Jack Daniels and his left hand. “Right,” he said. “Rough night an’ all... Expect you’ll want to get some shut-eye.” He paused, suddenly fascinated by the scuffs on his boots. “Guess I’ll be headin’ off then.”
Silly vampire. Buffy pouted as amusement danced in her eyes. “But I thought we had a date?”
Mesmerised by the fullness of her bottom lip, it took all of Spike’s self-restraint to keep from backing her up against the door and nipping it between his teeth. “What’s that?”
“A date,” Buffy repeated, gifting him with a winning smile. “I thought you were planning to give me a proper introduction to that bed of yours.”
Confidence restored, Spike’s lips curled into a predatory grin as his eyes raked over her body. “Oh yeah, kitten, I’ve got plans for you, alright.”
Buffy’s warm breath tickled his ear as she traced a series of teasing kisses to his cheek and neck. “Well that’s a relief,” she said, sliding her hands down Spike’s arms and pressing a bundle into his clenched fist, “because I’ve got a little something for you, too.”
Confused, Spike glanced down between them, instantly recognising the damp scrap of lace between his fingers. “Minx,” he growled as Buffy giggled and slowly backed away. He brought the fabric to his face and inhaled deeply of the intoxicating scent, chuckling as the Slayer wrinkled her nose at his antics. “Oh, you’re gonna get it, little girl,” he said, raising his eyebrows whilst running his tongue over his teeth.
In the blink of an eye, Buffy vaulted down the steps and was half way across the lawn. “You’ll have to catch me first,” she called over her shoulder as she took off running down the street. Not needing to be told twice, Spike stuffed the thong into his duster pocket and gave chase, exhilarated, as the combined laughter of vampire and slayer rang into the night.
“What’s the matter, Spikey? Getting slow in your old age?”
They’d been running for several minutes and had finally made it to Restfield cemetery. Throughout the chase, Buffy had teased him mercilessly by slowing her pace and allowing him to within a hairs breadth, before putting on a burst of slayer speed and leaving him trailing behind her.
“Don’t you worry ‘bout me, Goldilocks!” Spike’s pursuit was considerably hampered by his chafing erection, however, his eyes were fixed on the lithe form of the nymph darting and weaving between the neglected head stones. “You can run all you like. It’s just gonna make my victory that much sweeter when I catch you.”
His blood was singing from the thrill of the hunt, but as far as Spike was concerned, he’d follow her forever if he had to. Without breaking her stride, Buffy darted to the left and took the path towards the Peterson mausoleum, but this time he was ready for her. Biding his time, Spike waited until she slowed down to dodge a grave marker, and then moved in for the strike.
“If you’re not careful you won’t have any energy left for—eep!” Buffy squealed as a pair of strong arms banded around her waist, and suddenly, she was spinning in the air, laughing and breathless, with Spike’s solid presence at her back.
“Gotcha,” he whispered into her ear.
Shamelessly, Spike ground his hardness against the curve of her ass, his tongue, tracing intricate patterns along her neck. The resultant tremor that raced up Buffy’s spine brought a devilish grin to the vampire’s lips, and he couldn’t help but wonder what other responses he could draw from her nubile body. With that thought in mind he blew gently against the sensitised skin, causing Buffy to gasp when he nipped at her ear lobe.
“So,” she said in a voice heavy with invitation, “now that you’ve caught me, what are you going to do with me?”
A dark chuckle filled the air as Spike nuzzled at her collar bone. His hands slipped under her top, and Buffy shivered as he smoothed his cool palms over her hips. “Somethin’ wrong, precious?”
Buffy could hear the smirk behind his words. “Y-your hands are cold,” she replied unsteadily, as his thumbs rubbed small circles into her skin.
“You’ll warm me up soon enough.” Spike was sorely tempted to lay her down on the ground and shag her senseless, nevertheless, he fought down his demon and curbed his baser instincts. He could appreciate a wild rutting as much as the next vamp, but that wasn’t what he had in mind for their first time. “You’re a naughty little tease,” he whispered as his hand slid up her thigh. “Runnin’ around a graveyard with no knickers on... What would people think?”
Panting mindlessly, Buffy let herself be swept away by his words. With his deep baritone rumbling against her ear, she couldn’t give a damn what people thought. Hell, the entire Watchers Council could wander by on a field trip and she’d be quite willing to demonstrate the finer points of vampire stamina. One of Spike’s arms wrapped tightly around her waist, the other, abetting his hand’s explorations of the curves of her body, and Buffy suppressed a whimper as she rocked back against his denim-clad erection.
“I can smell you,” he said, giving her arse a goodbye squeeze as he slipped between her legs. “Do you taste as good as you smell, love?” He swiped his finger along the length of her moist heat and flicked her clit, causing Buffy’s legs to buckle beneath her. If it weren’t for the presence of his iron grip she would have tumbled to the ground, and Buffy could do nothing but groan as she watched him bring the glistening digit to his lips and savour the evidence of her arousal. “Delicious.”
“Oh God...”
Spike chuckled darkly in her ear. “I’ve got plans for you, kitten. ‘m gonna lie you down in my bed and worship you. Make you come with my fingers and mouth. An’ then when you think you can't take anymore...” he said, biting down lightly on her earlobe with his blunt teeth, “…I’m gonna make you come, screaming, on my cock.”
“Mmm... Spike.” She was burning up. He’d barely touched her, but Buffy was starting to wonder if it was possible to be talked into an orgasm.
“Yeah, that’s right. I love it when you say my name like that. All breathless like.”
Spike growled low in his throat and inhaled deeply, revelling in the scent of Buffy’s desire. He’d experienced it many times before—last night notwithstanding, their previous encounters always left them panting in more ways than one—but never to this extent. And this... bloody hell, this, was a gift from the gods. His wet finger trailed down the length of Buffy’s arm before returning to her waist.
“The Big Bad’s got you now,” he whispered. “And he’s gonna eat you all up.”
Get a grip, thought Buffy as she tried to steady her erratic heart rate. You’re the Slayer, not the bosom heaving damsel in some trashy romance novel. Show him who’s in charge here.
Straightening her shoulders, Buffy turned her head to meet his cocky smirk. “Is that so?” she said, resolutely ignoring the fact that her vampire’s attention was fixed firmly on the aforementioned cleavage. “Because the last time I checked—Oh my God! Put me down!” Without warning, Buffy found herself thrown over Spike’s shoulder as he headed in the direction of his crypt. Awkwardly, she squirmed in his grip, tugging at the inadequate coverage of her clothing, and painfully aware that there was now an additional full moon on show tonight.
“Relax, slayer.” Spike raised his hand to hold her skirt down, mercifully preserving whatever modesty she had left. “I’m not gonna let any beasties get a glimpse of your luscious arse.”
Unimpressed, Buffy continued to beat her fists ineffectively against his duster until Spike delivered a quick slap to her backside, causing her to yelp in surprise. “Oh my God! You are so going to pay for that!”
Spike chuckled and smoothed his palm over the tingling flesh. “Of that, I have no doubt, love. But if you’re a good girl an’ quit wrigglin’, I promise to kiss it better soon enough.”
Strangely, Buffy no longer felt the need to protest, and soon found herself at the door to Spike’s crypt. He lowered her to the ground and hauled her into a passionate embrace as they stumbled over the threshold. However, within seconds, Buffy felt his muscles tense as he broke the kiss and pulled her behind him. Morphing into his game face, Spike glared into the shadows of the dimly lit chamber, and with demonic eyes, he growled out his infuriated demand.
“What the bleedin’ hell do you want, Angelus?”
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Chapter End Notes:
*Hides* I know, I know… another evil cliffhanger. You weren’t really interested in getting to the smut just yet, were you?