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Author's Chapter Notes:
Serious smut happening here! If that isn't your thing, then...well, probably you just want to skip the entire chapter...
Riley walked with purpose toward Spike's crypt. He had a really bad feeling about this, but he had to find Buffy.

Sure, he'd reacted poorly to the news that somewhere in the future, Buffy and that disgusting vampire had a child together. He'd gone straight to Willy's, had a few beers, spent some time considering the vampire girl who'd been flirting with him. What was it Buffy saw in these vamp men, anyway? Evil, ugly creatures.

But maybe he'd jumped to conclusions. He'd never had any faith in prophecy, anyways. Prophecies weren't science. More like…speculation. Sometimes misguided speculation, at that. Who knew if this thing was even true? Sure, Giles said that Buffy had seen the girl, but really, a little girl could belong to anybody, right? She probably wasn't Buffy's at all. In fact, this time travel thing seemed really fishy in itself. Maybe some bad guys out there were playing them. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed like that must be the case.

But if it was, he needed to warn Buffy that it was a trap of some sort, that this future Watcher guy couldn't be trusted. He had to help them. That's what he was supposed to do, right? So he'd burst into the Magic Box, but all he'd found was the Scoobie gang—Willow and Tara doing some kind of spell to try and find the girl they were looking for, Xander eating crumbs from the donut box, and Anya grilling the "Watcher" about the future while the guy completely ignored her.

"Where's Buffy?" he'd asked, noticing that Spike was gone as well. They all looked up at him in surprise. In...pity?

"She's with him, isn't she?" He couldn't explain why he'd jumped to that conclusion, only that it was his greatest fear. He'd felt his face burning, felt his limbs suddenly humming with pent-up rage.

"Riley," Giles had said, carefully. "She's gone home for a bit. She was wounded earlier. She's fine, but she went home—alone—for a change of clothes."

And so he hadn't bothered warning the rest of the gang that this time travel thing didn't feel right, because seeing Buffy had become more important. She wouldn't be with Spike. She wouldn't. But he'd needed to see that she wasn't with the vampire, needed to see her with his own two eyes. Because, if she seriously believed that she and Spike had a child together, if she seriously believed that she was married to that thing...well, he'd just needed to find her, to talk some sense into her.

So he'd gone to her house. But she wasn't there. Joyce and Dawn must have been out too, because even though he had a key to let himself in, he'd found the place empty.

He'd known where he had to go.

There was no way she'd be at Spike's crypt, and if she was, she was probably just beating him up for information, or because she found out that Spike was somehow the mastermind of this whole time travel craziness. Probably she was already back at the Magic Box by now and they'd just missed each other. Still, he didn't turn back. He'd never admit it to her, had a hard enough time admitting it to himself, but something about Spike as a figure in Buffy's life had always bothered him. He knew she said she was disgusted by the vamp, but something about Spike and Buffy together had always made him feel…insecure. Not that Buffy would ever want a vampire over him. Except she did have a history with Angel. And there was that thing with Dracula not too long ago.

His worst fears were confirmed as he reached the door of the crypt.

Really? There was no way she was with Spike, not like this. Not this fast. Not when she and Riley had a commitment, they had a relationship, they were in love. Weren't they?

But even through the thick stone of the crypt walls and the heavy wooden door, he could hear them.

Moans, gasps. And the worst sound he'd ever heard in his life—his Buffy crying out the name of the vampire he hated. There was no mistaking it. That was his Buffy, with that creature. And she was crying out for him. Riley had never heard her voice sound so urgent, so passionate. And she'd certainly never spoken his name like that.

At that moment, he wanted so badly to burst through the door, interrupt whatever the hell was going on in there, and stake the vampire. How he'd smile in satisfaction as Spike exploded into a thousand tiny dust particles. Obviously, Buffy had been led astray by this ridiculous lie about a little girl from the future, but as soon as Spike was dead, she'd see that Riley had done the right thing, that it was all for the best. He would save her from this, this darkness. This evil. She would be grateful for his help. He would forgive her for her transgression, of course, and this moment of complete insanity could be forgotten and never, ever mentioned again.

And so he would have done it, would have rushed right in to save the day, if it weren't for one little thing.

He knew it wasn't true.

Buffy might be out of her mind right now, hell, she might be under some kind of spell for all he knew. But that didn't change the one fact that Riley had tried and tried to ignore. Buffy had feelings for the vampire. She loved Spike. It hadn't started tonight. It made his heart ache and his body tremble with disgust just to think of it, but he'd always known it. Somewhere, deep inside, he'd always known there was something between them. God knows she'd never admit it, but he could feel it. It was there.

Which meant, of course, that she couldn't possibly love him.

Repulsed and very clearly rejected, he turned away from the crypt. He didn't have the guts to rush in, to catch them in this moment, to see the truth of it. Her naked body, wrapped around the vamp...no. Let them have each other. The Slayer and her vampire.

He should have gone home, should have tried to figure out what to do next. Instead, he headed back to Willy's.

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It was wrong and Buffy knew it. Really wrong, and she would tell him to stop, really. Any minute now she would. Any minute...

His mouth on hers, Spike slid her down onto the hard floor, unbuttoning her jeans without ending the kiss. Her breasts rubbed against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, and she realized that she was about to be the only one completely unclothed. So she grabbed onto his shirt with both hands, and, losing patience, ripped it cleanly in two. "Oh God," she panted, when he pulled away and looked at her in amazement. She should be embarrassed. She should apologize. But then his eyes were smoldering into hers and his lips were crushing hers again. He shrugged out of the remains of his shirt, and she gasped when his naked torso pressed against her.

"Spike," she breathed. It was too fast, too fast, but God, who cared? This was more than lust, more than want. She needed him. Desperately.

"Buffy," he hissed. "Oh God, Buffy…so long…so much…" She could hardly make out the words as his mouth traveled the length of her body. His hands pushed her jeans down and then his mouth was against her panty-clad pussy, breathing against her, breathing her in. Her hands curled into his platinum hair.

She was amazing. He could smell her arousal as he forced her jeans over her calves, ankles. Gray cotton panties, so sweet, and he could see the pool of wetness against the fabric. He was going to lose it before he even touched her there. His hand trembled as his fingers slid slowly, reverently, across the fabric. Watched the wetness spread. He tugged her panties down and was assaulted by the sweet smell of her, unclothed. It was too much, and not enough. He needed all of her. "So beautiful," he murmured. He finally grazed her pussy lips with the tips of his fingers and, when she moaned and squirmed underneath him, let his fingers travel to her opening. "So wet," he said. "So perfect." He sank a finger in and listened to her heavy breathing, the frantic whisper of his name on her tongue. He added another finger and pulsed them in and out as she bucked against his hand.

Oh God, oh God, she thought. So bad, so really really bad and so good. She was letting Spike touch her. The vampire who was nothing to her except a pain in the ass. Except…Asher had called him her perfect match. And the soft voice in her head was soothing her again with those words, those crazy words that weren't supposed to be for her. Husband. Family. And then his mouth was on her and his tongue was making soft, slow circles around her clit and she couldn't think of anything at all, could only lose herself in the feeling.

"Spike!" Buffy gasped, grabbing him by the shoulders and hauling him up her body. She had to have him, all of him, had to know if he would make her feel the way she'd always wanted to. Complete. She kissed him frantically as she fumbled with his black jeans, the button snapping and skittering across the room. She tasted herself on his tongue, and it only made her want him more. She worked his jeans down over his hips, and his cock sprang free. Rock hard and bigger than she'd expected, pre-cum already glistening against the tip of the pale column. Oh, God.

His lean, firmly muscled body hovered over her, shadowy and beautiful in the candlelight. His cock teased between her thighs, at her entrance. "Spiiike," she breathed.

His voice was gravelly when he spoke, eyes blue velvet when he looked at her. "Say you want this, Slayer. Say it's not because you're scared, or confused, or out of your mind somehow. Say it's what you want."

She was panting already, body wound tightly with need. But she couldn't say it, could she? Admit that she wanted Spike?

She arched her back, trying to get him inside, but he pulled back slightly, waiting.

She could stop this right now, stop this whole crazy, dream-like thing. She could tell him no, that it wasn't what she wanted. That she was completely out of her mind and this was the last thing on earth she'd really want to do. She could get dressed and leave here, go back to the Magic Box and pretend that this never, ever happened. It would be the best thing for both of them.

What else could she say?

"I do," she gasped, desperately. "Oh God, I do."

He plunged into her, pushing himself all the way in. He had to be inside her, had to be filling her up. It was rougher than he'd intended, more than any normal human should be able to take, but his chip hadn't fired, despite the loud cry escaping her mouth. Easy, he warned himself, but his body didn't seem to be listening. He'd never needed anyone else so badly before. She was so hot, so wet, her inner walls squeezing him, tugging him, pulling him in.

He stopped then, rested his forehead against hers and looked into her eyes, his own expression one of complete and utter awe. She'd let him inside of her. "Christ," he said. "Buffy." He never dreamed she'd feel like this.

She was full of him, stretched like she'd never been before. So much of him. And still her body was screaming for more. She'd never had a lover so powerful before—sure, there had been Angel that first time, but he'd been so tender, as though he were afraid she'd shatter beneath his hands. And Riley, so sweet but so human, so breakable himself. And no need to even think of Parker, the prick. No one had ever treated her like what she was—a strong woman, powerful in her own right. Except Spike. Her body had met its match. It thrilled her, made her feel alive, sexually, in a way she realized she'd never felt before. Except it was so wrong, and she should feel guilty already, and she should be disgusted with herself.

But she wasn't.

"Don't hold back," she whispered to him.

Her breath was hot against his lips, her pretty mouth swollen from his bruising kisses. The Slayer, the girl he'd wanted for so long, wanted to kill, to crush, and then wanted to kiss, to love, and there she was, beneath him with her wide-open eyes, telling him not to hold back, not to be anything other than what he was. Which was good, because he didn't think he'd be able to hold back, even if he wanted to. Everything in his body was telling him that this was it, this was exactly where he belonged.

"Wouldn't dream of it, luv," he murmured, his words swallowed by her mouth as she kissed him hungrily. He finally began to move inside her, one slow pull outward, and then he was pounding into her, claiming her pussy as though it had belonged to him all along. As though she had.

"Yes," she breathed. "Yes, yes, yes..." Her legs wrapped around him, crushing him into her deeper, harder, while her hands gripped the cool taut muscles of his arms, nails scraping against his biceps and making him moan.

"Christ," he cried. "So bloody perfect, so sexy, so beautiful." He was drowning in her, covered in her wetness, as he hammered into her and she met him thrust for bruising thrust. Their hips slammed together over and over, the base of his cock sliding against her clit, and she could feel her orgasm building. She'd never felt anything like this before.

"More," she gasped in his ear.

Spike lifted her off the ground, just enough to wrap his arms underneath her, holding on tightly as he plowed furiously into her, his chest smashed against hers. She wrapped one arm around his neck, hand grabbing at his platinum hair, pulling his head to her so she could claim his mouth with her desperate kisses. Her other hand gripped one ass cheek, pulling him into her, fingernails piercing the sensitive skin.

"Oh, God!" she cried, clutching him to her with her arms and legs as she felt herself pulled into the most intense orgasm of her life. She didn't want to scream his name, didn't want to feed his ego, but her mouth, her entire body, was working independently from her brain and she did scream his name, over and over and over.

He was almost there himself, with that needy grip she had around him, arms, legs, and pussy all clamped around him so tightly he couldn't have breathed if he'd needed to. Dimly, he heard something, another heartbeat, maybe, outside the crypt. But then he heard his name, like that, from her mouth, in the throes of her orgasm, and he was lost. He felt the bones in his face shift and knew he was vamping, but he couldn't much help it at this point.

"Oh fuck…Buffy!" he cried into her ear. He could have roared, could have sobbed, could have buried his fangs into her neck with the sheer intensity of the moment, but he did none of those things, just pressed his forehead into the flesh of her shoulder and groaned as he let go.

The feel of him erupting inside her was surprising—she'd gotten so used to condoms with Riley. She didn't know if it was the vampire's power or just the lack of a barrier, but she wasn't prepared for the force of Spike's cum flooding her, and the feel of it, coupled with the thrilling knowledge that she was the source of his very vocal pleasure, sent her tumbling into a second orgasm. She squeezed her muscles and he gasped, and she felt another spurt, felt their combined juices start to leak out of her.

"Buffy," he breathed into her neck, his human face returning as he slowly came down from his climax. "Oh, Buffy." He was gasping for air he didn't need, and she was trembling beneath him. He didn't move, just held her tight and waited to see what would happen next, how she would react, now that they'd done this together. He was completely at her mercy.

He kept his mouth firmly closed, terrified he would say the words that had been on the tip of his tongue since that first kiss.

I love you.





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