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It was no surprise when they rolled to a stop about half a metre over the curb outside the mansion. The entire trip had been fraught with terrifyingly sharp corners, stalled intersections—at least those where the stop sign hadn’t been completely ignored—and the parking half-on half-off the road. Even Buffy was gripping the steering wheel in a clasp a crowbar would have trouble prying loose.

Neither moved as she turned off the engine, eyes filled with fear staring straight ahead.

“Bloody…hell!” Burst past Spike lips, the panic finally finding release in the expulsion of his breath. “You won’t be done in by one of us, pet. You’re destined for a car wreck. I’m tellin’ you now, drop me off and bleeding well walk home. You won’t be lucky attemptin’ to get this thing back to Willy’s.”

Ordinarily Buffy would have shredded him with her tongue, challenged him with perfectly thought out barbs. Not this time though. This time her knuckles were white and she was still seeing the strange blue colour of that car she had almost slammed into.

An emphatic nod indicated she thoroughly agreed with him, hair all springy as it bounced around her shoulders. She found the prospect of walking home past a multitude of cemeteries bursting with vamps infinitely safer than climbing behind the wheel of this ridiculously powerful engine again.

“Stupid dumb car,” she mumbled, the words barely squeezing past her pout.

It was captivating, Spike found. That lush lip distracting him from the reality of being back ‘home’, despite the front door being in plain view. And much bloody closer than any other car could have gotten him without the Slayer being behind the wheel—barely even stopping for the footpath.

The tension was released as he barked a laugh. They’d made it, all in one piece and only a couple of bruises to show for it. He could feel the stirring tingle in his gut as she joined his mirth with a reluctant giggle.

“Don’t think it was the car, luv. Get the impression that puttin’ you behind any kind of machinery just might be askin’ far too damn much of the Slayer.”

Her eyes sparkled when she finally looked away from the windscreen, her glance falling on his face and watching the interesting shadows cast by the street lamp.

“Was the widdle vampire scared of the Big Bad Slayer?”

“Who are you callin’ little?” His voice was filled with so much inadequacy that it made Buffy wince.

Completely impulse driven she slid across the seat, lifting a gentle hand to rest against his cheek, her palm feeling so warm she was afraid of chafing the skin of his gorgeous face.

“Don’t let them win, Spike. You aren’t unimportant, or even weak. She’s stupid. He’s stupid. And right now, you have me.” Her lips slipped over his in the most gentle caress he’d ever experienced. Warm moving sensitive flesh rubbed sensually over his and he was silent, allowing his own to fall apart so as to receive her fully. His tongue brushed lightly against the inside of her bottom lip and he felt the first stirring of personal esteem since he’d found himself confined to a wheelchair.

The kiss stirred him from his near slumberous participation and he couldn’t help but move his hand to tangle in the length of her hair. Another arm snaked around her waist and quite by accident he found her abruptly in his lap. Her tongue was stroking his now, his body feeling alive and pumping blood more forcefully than when he had most recently fed—life leaking from one failing body to the animated one.

Her lips slipped and slid against his, her tongue seeking out the coolness of his mouth and he could feel the heated imprint of her hands as they weakly braced against his chest. Her fingers were curled; he could feel the sharp edge of her nails as she clutched at the t-shirt covering his flesh, and he couldn’t hold back the little hungry growl deep in his throat.

It worked better than mere memory that she was in the lap of a vampire who had been hellbent on depriving the world of her existence a few short months ago.

“Was that an ‘I want to eat you’ kind of growl, or an ‘I want to eat you’ kind?” Buffy asked him nervously, her hands already strengthening against his chest for the possibility of having to get away from him fast. The cheeky smirk of his lips was enough to relax Buffy’s guard, but only a little.

“Definitely the second one, pet. Your lips are some very fine cuisine. Give ‘em back.”

Buffy watched his eagerness for her in wonder, not even thinking of the weirdness for a second. But already her fingers had relaxed and as her brain ticked over an answer her hands had taken on a mind of their own by tracing a repetitive pattern over his heart.

“You know this is wrong, don’t you? Me Slayer, you Vampire,” she emphasised with a jab to each of their chests, her own obviously lacking the oomph she stacked behind the finger that connected with Spike’s person.

“It’s naughty, Slayer. Not wrong. You helpin’ me ‘cause I’m weakened shows what a caring and fair girl you are. An’ if you didn’t know it, I appreciate it. Now, you on my lap, the kissing, feels all sorts of good to me, and that is something life has been more than bloody short on lately. So, yeah. Got the titles down right, luv. Jus’ can’t help thinkin’ how fun it would be to play.” He emphasised his hope of play with a sultry heat to his voice and roaming fingers that teased at the buttons of her shirt. His lips curved in a smile when she started to squirm, broadening when he sniffed the reason out as one other than an urgency to remove herself from his evil clutches.

The night surrounded them, hiding them within the loaner car as he continued to fiddle with the buttons that kept her protected from his eyes. Slowly she covered his persistent fingers, halting his action before he could succeed and the burning in her belly got in the way of her stopping him before he could touch her warming skin underneath.

“Spike,” she warned, her voice husky with unwanted repression. “We can’t. We have to get you back inside before it gets much lighter.”

Both of them were drawn back to look across the front wall to the door of the mansion. With a resigned sigh, Buffy released the catch and pushed the car door open, stumbling gracelessly from Spike’s lap into the road. He caught her just as her knees were about to hit the tar.

“Careful, Slayer,” he growled low, the deep reverberation lodging in her lower body and making her itch.

Quietly she helped him from the seat, the proud set of his straight lips the only sign of how very much he hated being at her mercy and whim for help. By rights she should have dusted him. He’d stumbled his way into her path so there would finally be an end to his struggles. He should have bloody known that all his plans went arse backwards. Particularly the ones where the Slayer had a starring role. The infuriating chit was too unpredictable.

Yet he made sure his arms drew her warm body closer as she helped him up the small step and through the gate. She bore the majority of his weight, and for that alone he felt less of a man.

Gone was the anger and furious desire for retribution towards her. It might be her fault he was in this chair, but her generous heart had helped him home. He should have been left defenceless out there to the other demons—if she hadn’t planned on taking him out. Instead, she’d brought him back.

The grunting he’d been attempting to escape still bounced around the stone walls of the mansion, making him grit his teeth in disgust. The hurt had faded just a little, and again he found himself being grateful for the Slayer.

She half-dragged him across the room until he finally fell soundlessly into the hated chair. The expression on his face immediately hardened to one of stoic bravery. The subtle shift of his head as his chin nudged her shoulder was the only indication of how much this situation hurt him and Buffy wondered again if this was the best place for her to be helping him settle in.

“You better go, pet. They won’t be happy if they see you here. They’ll be too strong for you on your own and I’m too gammied up to help you.”

The sweet sincerity of his desire to help her despite his frailty made her gasp, so unexpected it threw her whole worldview out the window. But she nodded, knowing he was right and had to face the monsters in the other room without her still present. If she were caught, it could only lead to worlds of bad.

Feeling newly brazen, Buffy kissed the corner of his mouth and sighed against his soft lips.

“Good luck,” she whispered sadly, and then the Slayer was gone.

And Spike was an invalid once more.


A/N... I am so blown away by the response to this fic. I hope you enjoyed this one...if so, take the time to let me know. I greatly appreciate all your encouragment. Thanks for comments last time : Allison, Demonica Mills, bloodshedbaby, Bynee, chatcaro, Blazing Fire, ilpopi, Cordykitten, Juanita, Amanda, Bridget, Sue, dreamgirl4eva and steph. Your support has been awesome and made me decide to continue this. Thank you all.





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