With one final look at the phone, she knew. Knew that watching wasn’t going to change the inevitable. She’d caught the vibe, but had just ignored it in favour of the romantic ideal every young, naïve college girl falls for.

Buffy flopped backwards on her bed and covered her face with her pillow.

And screamed.

A tear struggled for release through her tightly clamped lids and slid down her cheek. It was a lament for her coming of age, her first college induction to the rule of free and easy.

Parker.

Was a complete prick and wasn’t going to call her.

Though something felt well and truly shattered on the inside, Buffy couldn’t help but feel a little gifted for being the wiser. Would have been pretty sad to hang onto hope when hope was nowhere near this little train wreck.

She had no trouble blaming the whole disaster on Angel. He was the one who told her to go and find a normal guy; try giving her heart to someone who could give her normal, human things.

Well, it certainly worked out that way, and Buffy was fast coming to the realisation that there were unfortunate similarities between vamps and men. One, males of both species were bastards. Two, she’d been deserted and humiliated by both. Three, they both turned evil and selfish the morning after.

Rolling onto her belly, and offering a few half-hearted punches to her pillow, Buffy again slumped face-first into the softness of the puff of foamy goodness, and closed her eyes. Tears remarkably dried after the first small river of self-pity. As the dark blanket of welcoming slumber descended, she could feel something strange begin to settle over her. Something ominous and a little terrifying. But the sandman had enticed her too far, and she passed over to the world where dreams could be even scarier than reality.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

It wasn’t that the door was opened with a bang, but with the rush of bodies that pushed in with the force of a rhinoceros herd, that jerked Buffy awake.

“Oh, Thank Goddess,” Willow screeched, launching herself over a pile of bodies of the male persuasion to land unfettereddespite her startling actions in her friend’s lap. “We’ve been so worried,” sobbed Willow as Buffy watched her with a thought of how quickly to remove her.

“I just had the weirdest dream,” clarified Buffy in defense of her suddenly cold demeanor.

“You dreamed, you say? Fascinating. Was it a Slayer dream, perchance?” asked Giles amongst the pile of Scoobie testosterone that Willow had bravely trampled into the ground in her haste to be the first to greet Buffy home from sleep.

“Um, not sure. I’ll get back to you on that one. For now, I have this urgent desire to pee. Just how long was I asleep, anyway?”

A group cringe had settled at the mention of her need for the bathroom, but brave Willow stepped up with the required answer.

“Ah, three days?!

“Three days!” Buffy exploded from the bed in a rush down the hall, leaving behind a group of gawping stragglers, unsure of what path to take now that the seemingly comatose Slayer had once again gained her feet.

They had barely moved a muscle when she had returned, and the odd look on her face confirmed the discomfort in the room.

“Well, it’s, ah, getting dark, so perhaps we should head over to my flat and discuss what it is that might have occurred with you, Buffy.”

Buffy wavered, but then felt the rising of teenage grooming essentials as the thought of crossing campus in clothes she’d slept in for three days not being of the most desirable activities.

“Sure thing, Giles. I might just shower and change first. Meet you there?”

“Yes, well. Don’t be long, Buffy. Spike is still out there seeking the Gem of Amara and we must think of some way to prevent him locating it.”

Something flickered behind Buffy’s steady green gaze, and she nodded her acquiescence as the group preceded her out the door.

“Sure. It’d be nice to wrap up that puppy before the harsh light of day.”

She gathered her clothing and toiletries and snagged a towel before heading to the icky communal showers, eager to remove the yuck factor of grungy hair and dull skin, but not looking forward to the choice of venue. Times like this she missed living at home.

Half way through rinsing her hair for the second time, it occurred to Buffy that thoughts of Parker and his useage of her for sex had totally slipped her mind.

And instead, the unbelievable thoughts that filled it.

They left Buffy speechless. And unconvinced of their validity. Could anything be more farfetched? No, she determined to tell Giles the catalogue of events that seemed more important during the last three days than wakefulness, but she was equally convinced it was all just fanciful dreaming. Not even the soppiest soap opera could write a plot like that.

Confident once againin both cleanliness and the stability of the life she knew Buffy dressed then high-tailed it to Giles’s, with the most incredible story ever invented.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“That’s just…simply fascinating. So in three days worth of sleep, you’ve learned almost five years worth of events.”

“Yeah, massive on the disturbing.” Buffy turned to grab up a pencil, twirling it in the air before accidentally snapping it in half. “Oops,” she offered apologetically as she quickly shoved the two pieces under an opened book and looked around the room for another distraction.

Completely unbidden came images of Spike roped to a chair, and in the garbled disbelief of the possibility, Buffy cracked an amused smile. Never happen. Even if something did happen to make Spike vulnerable, there was no way he’d come to her and ask for help.

Her brow furrowed at the memory of Acathla and how he’d sought her out. He’d asked for help then, but it hadn’t been a weakness, just a smart move for soldiers to align. Even if he did manage to defect amidst the heat of battle.

The flinty inflection in Giles’s voice finally broke through her little reverie and she came back to the moment consumed with a sick longing for the dream to be reality. Whatever it took, there could be fun to be had with weakened Spike at her mercy.

But really, she’d only scratched the surface with the events she had relayed to Giles. Honestly, some of it was too upsetting and cruel to even contemplate. Things like her mother dying, alongside the appearance of a sister Buffy had never had were enough in themselves to convince the Slayer that three days of dreams was a pretty major joke on her behalf. You don’t just have sisters appear out of thin air.

“And Giles, there was just so much about these events that were really unbelievable. I mean, fighting Indians at Thanksgiving? That just reeks of taking Buffy for a walk on the gullible footpath of life. And some kind of commando type people actually patrolling, and a Frankenstein monster? It has to be a spell. Someone put a big scary, icky spell on the Slayer in an attempt to plant all these horrible thoughts on me.”

“For what reason, though? I do agree that it would seem like the most likely possibility, but what on earth would they hope to gain?” Giles rubbed his glasses in agitation, his fingers moving in absent circles with his while cloth.

Buffy shrugged, not really with the caring as she eyed a batch of perfectly baked cookies that Willow pulled from Giles’s oven. Déjà vu hit her down low and flashes of Spike kissage bombarded her. No freakin’ way was it possible that she had been engaged to him—spell or no spell. Even if the thought did make her feel all flushed and squirmy.

And that led to other thoughts, thoughts much more on the naughty naked side and Buffy had to quickly shut her eyes and squeeze those thoughts from her brain, before her panties bore the brunt of her fascination.

“And there was information about Angel, too, you say?”

Buffy nodded, snagging a cookie as Willow walked past. “Yumm,” she moaned as the chocalatey goodness exploded in her mouth, and again she was off, thinking of other things exploding in her mouth. The memories were so vibrant that her flesh began to tingle, so incredibly real for something she had never experienced.

“Right, we really must sit down and record all you can remember. Right now, though, it is imperative you locate Spike before he finds the Gem of Amara. If he finds it he will become invincible.”

Buffy snorted, imagining herself in a fierce battle in which insults fly and rings are torn off fingers, a smoky Spike disappearing down a sewer grate before he could turn to dust. Buffy frowned, for the first time wondering if there might have been a smidgen of truth to her dreams. She dismissed it again, munching distractedly on another cookie as Willow left the plate in the middle of the table.

“Check, find Spike, then record silly spell induced Slayer incapacitating dream. Gotcha.” Buffy rose to her feet, grabbing another cookie as she moved to the door. “Don’t frown at me, Giles. I’ve been all coma girl for three days. I think I deserve some sugary goodness.”

And she was gone, her slayer senses let free to seek out a master.

Patrol was a major suckfest. The ultimate suckage. Buffy giggled at her unintentional pun and sank back into her pillows, her arms curled up behind her head. It wasn’t strictly correct, though. Every graveyard she’d punned and spun her stake playfully through had been way too much of the quiet tonight. No sign of Spike; no sign of Spike’s minions. Her night was ending on the wrong side of dull and it forced a pout to Buffy’s plush lips.

Allowing the darkness to lull her into the steady habit of sleep, she let her mind touch again on the multitude of events that had been revealed to her in her epic sleep. Everything clanged with the ring of truth, but it was so much what she didn’t want for her life that she was quick to discard it as a spell, designed for some really odd reason that she just wasn’t grasping. Was it Spike? Making her think of his body in ways that would make her blood pressure shoot right into orbit and leave her too consumed by lust to think straight when fighting him?

That thought made Buffy smile lustfully. ‘Cause yummm, if those visions weren’t real, she wanted a refund. Or at the very least a replay before she had her memory wiped. Oh well, at least she would know one way or the other pretty soon. If she suddenly found herself fighting Spike in the sun, then she’d have to reassess the whole dream/reality thing. Right as she reassessed the goodness of Spike and his very salty looking abs. His very happy-making appendages.

Proof would bring a new set of problems. It would bring a multitude of events that she would need to take some kind of direction on. One of those dilemmas would be a major decision about her lovelife. From what she could see, in her future years she had the possibility of two men. And whoa, what a decision if those visions were really of the real. That TA she’d already so far not much noticed except for nearly causing him a concussion with a pile of books falling on his head—or Spike. Spike of the evil, soulless, drool worthy sexiness.

If she had proof, then what was the point of fighting the inevitability of events? Let me look at this objectively, she thought, flashing moments slowing through her brain until she made out specific ones that made her flush hotly. Except for the black depression that hung over her as she remembered and allowed her body to give in to the sensations. Spike making love to her, kissing her into oblivion as she lost herself in what he gave to her, and her fixation on being lost to Heaven. Being lost to that while she wallowed with evil. Except that wasn’t quite right. With her youthful distance, Buffy saw something. Saw it clearly though her obviously older self covered it with lies, abuse and apathy. And fear. Her future was filled with actions based on fear and distrust in herself.

It made her wriggle in shame. And frown at her friends. And shake her head at herself for her ignorance. What on earth did they think they were doing, bringing her back from somewhere they didn’t even investigate? What did she think she was doing taking advantage of someone/something that loved her to the point of his own abuse?

When she realised what she was doing, Buffy jerked to full consciousness and began to laugh. Laugh hysterically, because here she was getting all twisted up about things her friends had never done, her own actions towards an evil vampire that would rather see her dead on the ground than screw her senseless.

It was too recent since she’d last fought him and the possibility of her death was precarious. She’d spent enough time wishing him to dust. If what she had seen was true, he had a motive for returning to Sunnydale so often that wasn’t so on the evil side. Buffy grinned again. Now she knew his secret; she just had to work out what to do with it.

Closing her eyes once again and willing on sleep, Buffy relaxed and surrendered to immensely satisfying images.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

In a matter of hours, Buffy’s whole outlook had changed. When she walked across campus and saw Parker, she squashed down that small part of her that was humiliated for being used—and naïve for allowing it to happen—and took the time to do a quick scan for Spike. Her dreams had predicted his appearance during this fiasco, had shown her the words he had heard and later twisted to make her mad. This time as Buffy made her way over to the co-ed she had a bounce in her step, feeling kind of elated that she was going through a situation almost with the ‘do not do, do not say’ guidebook. She had a confidence in herself she hadn’t possessed since Angel, and it felt soooo good.

“Hey, whatcha doing?” she asked Parker as she barged into his barrage of pick-up lines. The girl he was with looked annoyed, if not a little suspicious as Buffy plastered her very shiny glossed lips into a smile at the target.

“Er, Buffy. Good to see you,” he told her, his bravado bolstered with misplaced confidence.

“Oh, that’s so nice. Look, I just wanted to tell you, that phone call? I’d really rather you didn’t call. The other night was really nice and all, but I’ve met this new guy, and whoa…he just knocks me off my feet. You know what I mean? He’s just like…wow—“ she faded out dreamily, licking her lips before suddenly coming back to it. “But he’s kinda jealous so I really don’t need you calling and mucking this up for me, ‘kay? I’m really sorry if it ruins your plans, although it looks like you’ve got another girl right here to take over from me. So, thanks.” She beamed a grateful smile and took a step away. Before her foot could take full weight on the ground she had spun back to the girl.

“If he asks you to do the thing between his…erm, you know, don’t do it. Kinda sweaty and not so of the nice.” Buffy screwed up her nose delicately and imparted a little shudder before turning and walking over to wait for signs of Spike, a sense of achievement adding to her springy step.

She saw him before she could even settle on the seat, his head tilted assessingly as he watched her. She could tell that he’d heard and the small frown on his lips was more than intriguing. Made his lips pout and that was dead sexy.

Buffy giggled. This was just…awesome. Completely fricken awesome and she so couldn’t wait to tell Willow. She jumped to her feet and rushed in excited steps to stand less than a step away from him. Rushed like she was going to launch herself into the arms of her boyfriend.

“Birds singing, squirrels making lots of rotten little squirrels. Sun beaming down in a nice, non-fatal way. It's very exciting, I can't wait to see if YOU freckle.”

Spike’s eyes bugged as he took the time to comprehend what she just said, eyes sweeping from her lips to her toes to her lips again. The godawful robot-like smile was making his head hurt and he clenched his jaw hard.

“How the bloody hell did you know the EXACT thing I had been thinking the past half-hour to say when I met you in the sun?”

“That’s how seriously predictable you are, Spike.”

Still with the loony grinning and it was putting him right the hell off. Even if her lips were all pink and juicy-looking.

Instead of wasting more time trying to figure out how this meeting was going wrong, he slugged her hard on the chin.

“Ow,” she said, her hand raising to rub the spot even as the smile slipped and hurt flooded her shining green eyes.

And what? He was noticing the colour of the Slayer’s eyes now?

“Ow? All you’ve got to bloody say is ow? Where’s the old one two? The attempted kick in the balls? The punch in the guts?” He was shaking his head completely wrong-footed, not knowing where to go with this odd little confrontation.

“We could go have a talk. Ooh, I know,” Buffy enthused, doing the bouncy thing on her feet again and making Spike dizzy with his compounding confusion. “Let’s go get some coffee. We could sit in the park and see if you do tan or if the gem prevents your skin from getting the real rays. Oh hey! Maybe it’ll not let you get sunburn at all. That would be so neat!”

“Are you completely off your bird?” he erupted.

“Come on, Spikey. Take me up on the offer. Otherwise, this is what is going to happen. We’ll fight, I stake you only to find out you heal right up, then you insult me, get me mad, I take the ring off your finger and you have to run so you don’t go all crispy. Let’s forget all of that and actually go have some fun with this thing. I’ll bet you’re loving the feel of the warmth on your skin right now.”

He noticed as her eyes gave him a quick, appreciative scan, looking in vain for small areas of skin.

“Might have to take off your coat.”

Almost like he was under a spell, he felt the duster shrug from his shoulders. Buffy caught it before it hit the grass, and embraced the leather in her arms.

“Perfect,” she beamed. “So, coffee and park or do you have somewhere else in mind?”

He just shook his head, his head too bewildered by the crazy girl who had taken over the Slayer since he’d last seen her. Maybe that Parker pillock had shot her full of some happy grass or something. A quick sniff didn’t uncover any familiar scents but one, and it was one that made his eyes cross. That scent he’d smelled on the Slayer the previous times they’d fought; the one that told him for sure she got a real kick out of fighting him. There was no adrenalin pumping the fight into her now, though. Nothing but the sun and the birds and a now impervious to harm vampire.

Nah, there was only one answer for it. The chit was cracked. Gone barmy in the head or had amnesia and didn’t know who the hell she was dealing with. Still, he didn’t fight her off when she took his hand in her free one and tugged him by way of downtown, and the ever-popular Espresso Pump.

Spike was beyond scratching his head by the time they made it to the park. Buffy handed him her Styrofoam cup and set about spreading out his duster on the grass, though she still kept them under the shade of a tree. She took her cup back and nudged him toward their makeshift blanket with an encouraging shoulder. When he was sprawled out all comfy in a way she could only imagine Spike would be, she plopped down beside him and had a good look. An appraising look. A hot hungry look that ended at his chest, too scared and embarrassed to venture any further just yet.

“Hey, I have a swell idea. Why don’t you ditch the tee and see if you do freckle? It could be like an experiment.”

Spike jumped back from her, eyes narrowing as she pouted at him in disappointment.

“Let me get this straight. You want me to take off my shirt?” His muscles bulged as her eyes watched every minute movement, body tensing as she swept over him and left him burning from something other than the sun.

She nodded her head enthusiastically, her smile once again almost blinding.

“Right. Off it bloody well goes then.” He said the last under his breath as he dragged it over his head. Confused why he was giving in, beyond mystified why he was even being civil with his enemy let alone sharing his duster with her as well as a cup of coffee.

Shirt off, he flexed his muscles experimentally, then leaned back on his elbows. He could almost hear the drool as it dropped from Buffy’s lip. Spike’s first genuine smirk broke out on his lips as he watched her fascinated response to his chiseled chest and arms.

“Slayer, this is the weirdest bloody experience I’ve ever had, you know that, right?”

She giggled, a high-pitched overly girly sound that should have had him cringing against it even as he lunged for her throat. Instead, he raised his cup and sipped at the coffee; watched her as her eyes were peeled to the ripple of his muscles as he moved.

“So, have you ever thought of not eating people?”

His mouthful of coffee went spewing across his duster and speckled Buffy’s face and floaty lavender top.

“What the bleeding hell are you about, Slayer?”

“Spike! You ruined my shirt. And you made me all sticky.”

“Sorry, pet. You took me a bit—“ He stopped in his tracks and went over the words he’d just been about to say and the ones that the Slayer had already hit him with. He ended up sputtering. “Now hold on a bleeding minute. What the hell is your game?”

Her smile was really beginning to creep him out.

“No games. I just got to thinking after we met up at the party the other night that we really never got the chance to talk in the past. All our problems would probably be completely resolved if we just sat down and had a bit of a conversation.”

“Didn’t we try that? You know, with the whole saving the world and all?” An inquisitive little twitch settled in the skin between his brows.

Buffy screwed up her nose as she concentrated on her memories of that night. “I really don’t remember the conversation part of that whole ordeal. Was that the bit where you were telling me about your philosophy on humans as happy meals on legs? Or when you were promising to take your ho of a girlfriend out of the country?”

“Ah,” he said, waggling a finger at her as he smirked knowingly. “There’s the snarky Slayer we all know and lo…love to hate.” He didn’t even seem to pick up on the insult to Drusilla, focusing more on the return of the normal Slayer routine, and his very odd almost slip of the tongue.

Buffy caught the slip and the power of her smile could have lit the city. She shuffled a little closer, picked up his discarded tee and wiped the coffee residue from her face as best she could, took a sip from her own coffee, then looked up and for the first time noticed the clean, clear sparkle of his gorgeous blue eyes.

“Yummm…” Buffy mumbled, completely becoming lost in the Spike-specific images of her uber long dream.

Spike spluttered over his coffee again. “What?”

“Yummy coffee,” Buffy told him as she held up her cup. “All with the caffeiny goodness.”

He began to relax in the sun when she wiggled even closer, her bent knees now lightly nudging his hip.

“Not that the company isn’t totally droolworthy,” was the only warning he got before her lips were on his, driving several nails into his belief that she’d fallen out of a tree onto her head. Then all thought disappeared as the heat of her tongue and saliva met with his and he was completely mesmerised.

She opened her mouth to him while winding an arm around his neck, her body shifting so that she was almost draped over him. “Mmmmmm,” she moaned as her lips swept over his, her eyes closed as she thoroughly gave herself over to the power of his mouth. She had almost climbed fully in his lap when he twisted and had her beneath him, his hand at her waist as his lips nibbled and sucked at hers.

She squirmed beneath him until he used his pelvis to hold her flat on the ground, another moan filtering into his mouth as she sucked in her belly, preparing and encouraging his hand to move over her skin. He ducked under the fabric and his cool fingers found scorching skin. Instead of springing him back to his senses, it almost fused their skin together. Her head rested in the crook of his arm, her hair tickling his forearm. His touch stoked a fire up the trail to her ribs and she suddenly arched desperately against him, her hand holding his head hard to her mouth as the other stroked the bare skin of his back.

“Holy Moley, Batman. What in the land of freak are you doing, Buff?”

The pair flew apart, Spike jumping to his feet and swiping his duster out from beneath the Slayer, the speed of its removal causing her to spin a little as she rolled onto the grass. She jumped gracefully to her feet and pounced, bringing Spike to the ground in a mess of limbs and duster. She jerked him over, looked deep in his eyes and hoped he got the remorse behind her actions.

“Be safe,” she whispered against his lips, kissing him again briefly even as she slid the ring from his finger. Even under the shade of the tree he started to smoke and she pushed him to the nearest sewer access tunnel as he wrestled with his duster to cover as much of his body as he could—infuriated curses thrown over his shoulder as he sprinted.

He jumped down in a flap of leather and an aggravated growl, but not before seeing the strange expression of longing the Slayer bestowed on him.

Buffy had a mixed smile on her lips when she turned back to her friend. She couldn’t decide between feeling sadness that her discovery time had been interrupted or happy that she’d gotten to try out Spike’s lips and find out that for sure her mammoth dream had been steeped rather deeply in reality.

As she took in the horrified gaping and gasping for breath as Xander struggled for words, Buffy felt like skipping. It was real. For some reason the Powers or someone had given her an intense peek at her life so she could alter, fix her mistakes and change her reactions and/or behaviours. She could save lives, save relationships, save herself and God, she could consume herself with enormous potential love.

Buffy grinned as she took on the responsibility, grasped the understanding and decided on action. She was destined to be with Spike, and she knew he came to her. True, it took some major metalwork in his head, but things would be A-OK in the long run. And it would be best if she began laying the groundwork right now. From what she saw, Xander and Giles were her biggest detractors in her future. Her mom liked Spike, Dawn liked Spike…Buffy stopped and frowned before pushing that little nugget of information aside for another time.

“Hey Xan, whatcha up to?”

“Not making with the sexy vampire lovin’ under the bright shiny sun, that’s for sure.”

Buffy melted with the visual, unable to dim her euphoric smile even though she knew Spike was going to be furious with her for stealing his ring. Oops, hope he doesn’t go and torture Angel thinking I’d send it to him, Buffy nervously thought as her fingers caressed the cool surface of the ring.

“Really sorry to hear that, Xan. Was quite an experience.” Buffy picked up the discarded coffee containers and took them to the nearby trashcan.

“Hey, what’s going on? You have that freaky dream that lasts half a week and now you’re macking on the undead. What gives?”

Bufy contemplated the quiet fury in her friend’s blackened eyes and sighed.

“Look, I’ll explain it all at Giles’ later okay? I have to go to my final class then I’ll come by.”

Without giving him a chance to nod or protest she was striding off, plans and organizing going on at a rapid pace in her brain. She had a vampire to tame.




A/N...I am so grateful for all my wonderful reviewers. I'm on holiday with my family right now so can't write you thanks individually, but I hope you all enjoy this chapter too.

“A-are you quite certain that is what happened in this dream of yours?” Giles was struggling with his need to twist his glasses into useless scrap metal as he tried to come to terms that the dream they had thought was a possible spell, now seemed to be a message from the PTB. A message that had his Slayer convinced she was destined for the likes of soulless, murdering vampire Spike.

“Positive,” Buffy confirmed as she absently played with a crucifix, tossing it in the air and watching the revolutions as it spun with each hard flick of her wrist. She was grinning, caught up in how hot and tasty Spike’s lips were, running other scenarios through her head to find the next best opportunity for make-outville.

“And you got the gem off him?”

“Yup. He’s probably on his way right now to torture Angel for it.”

Giles shuddered at the memory of what Angel might consider torture. “A-and you don’t think it wise for Angel to have the Gem?”

“Nah, he’s just gonna destroy it anyway.” Buffy suddenly stopped the spinning of her cross and met Giles’s concerned eye. “I guess it’s not really right for me to not warn Angel about Spike coming, huh?”

Giles blinked. “I know you feel animosity toward him for leaving Sunnydale, Buffy, but no. It really isn’t.”

“Huh. Maybe I should head off to LA?”

Xander, who had thus far remained quietly confident Giles would force Buffy to back off the undead kissage, was shocked back into the conversation at the thought of Buffy rushing off to be around Spike again.

“That is so—“

“You’re so right, Giles. That’s exactly what I should do. So, wanna drive me? Much quicker than a bus. Might get there before Spike turns Angel into shishkabob. And hey, we can see how Cordy is doing.”

“Cordy’s with Angel?” Xander’s whole argument was immediately derailed at the mention of the brunette that got away.

“Well, not with with, but not that that wouldn’t have solved a whole lot of problems for them both. You so don’t want to see Cordy in cradle-robbing mode.”

“Cordy robs cradles?”

Buffy couldn’t hold in the chuckles. “Well not strictly speaking, but she nursed him as a baby and then to do what she did, that’s just too ewwww.”

The men watched her in amazement.

“You received messages in relation to Angel’s mission in LA?” Giles couldn’t hold the ferocious burn of his enthusiasm, the small boyish grin that established itself on his lips as he looked to Buffy for more information.

“Yup,” Buffy answered him absently. “Years and years of it. I mean, you’d think he’d learn, but oh no, back to the whole Angelus thing. But at least he didn’t really kill anyone I know this time. Still, redundant much? Sheesh.”

Giles just shook his head, ignoring the shudder that shot through his body at the thought of a resurgence of Angelus. Actually, come to think of it, it made him feel quite angry.

“But that’s absurd. How could he in all good faith take the risk of the flesh when he lost his soul the previous time?”

“Oh, he partook of the fleshy sins way before that. Angel has himself a little fling with Darla take-two and ends up a Daddy for real. Which is just so with the creepy. Must make Drusilla soooo big with the sibling rivalry.” Buffy stopped as she contemplated the intricacies of Angel’s family tree, frowning slightly and moving her head from side to side as she added it all up in her brain. “Actually, she’s also the grandmother and the granddaughter and I’m just gonna shut up now because this is so way beyond where I care.”

Giles took a sudden breath of frustration, wanting to reach for his journal and make Buffy sit down and tell him what exactly had gone on in the future years of LA but just as he leaned over for his pen she…

“Hey Giles. Time for the making with the movement. Let’s hit the road and be on our way to save Angel before Spike has him all filled with holes.”

With a newly lightened step Giles made to his feet and ignored Xander as he spluttered objections and reasserted his position on Buffy’s making out with the undead.

“Really, Buffy. Are you absolutely certain that you should pursue this …thing with Spike? I mean, he has been trying to kill you for a while now.”

“And like I told Xander before and after he hyperventilated and passed out on the floor, this is NOT up for debate. Spike will do great things for all of us, and he will love me more deeply than I ever thought possible. He dies for me and the world. His ass, therefore, is completely mine. No discussion entered into, from him or you. Get over it. Now let’s get going.”

Giles followed her out of his flat, shaking his head and stashing his journal and a small recorder into his tweed coat. You just never knew when a Slayer would get chatty.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Spike was perched on the roof of a building with the most deliciously perfect view. He could see every move of the poof’s dashing heroics and he could only shudder with the bliss he felt as his mind provided him with fill-in words that he was sure were far more accurate in telling Angel’s tale of detective magic.

“How can I thank you, you mysterious, black-clad hunk of a night thing?” He watched below as the pretty little blond looked up in awe at her paid protector. “No need, little lady, your tears of gratitude are enough for me. You see, I was once a badass vampire, but love and a pesky curse defanged me. Now I’m just a big, fluffy puppy with bad teeth.”

Spike cringed a little at the too recent events that saw him all curled up amongst the Slayer’s warmth with her lips doing wild things to his insides by way of his mouth. Oh yeah, he knew fluffy puppy’s, only he had none of that curse business, pesky or otherwise. But that was all just something he was happily blocking right out of his brain.

Spike grinned as he watched the blonde step forward to offer a physical sign of her gratitude and continued with the pseudo conversation that made much more sense to him than whatever drivel would be coming out of Peaches’ mouth.

“No, not the hair! Never the hair.” Spike patted down his own helmet reassuringly.

“But there must be someway I can show my appreciation.” He was getting a bloody kick out of this, pretending he was the woman and being all swoonish over the hero’s manly role in saving her life.

“No, helping those in need’s my job, - and working up a load of sexual tension, and prancing away like a magnificent poof is truly thanks enough!”

“I understand. I have a nephew who is gay, so—”

“Say no more. Evil’s still afoot! And I’m almost out of that Nancy-boy hair-gel that I like so much. Quickly, to the Angel-mobile, away!”

Spike relaxed back and lit a cigarette, smiling in evil satisfaction as Angel led his latest Buffy stand-in away. “Go on with you. Play the big, strapping hero while you can. You have a few surprises coming your way. The ring of Amarra, a visit from your old pal Spike-- and, oh yeah-- your gruesome, horrible death.”

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

He didn’t feel guilty at all. No siree, not even in the slightest. Just because the Slayer had knocked him on his arse with her unexpected kissy inducements—no, he wasn’t going there again. Slayer pinched his bloody ring, had no doubt sent it to the vamp she really had the hots for, and now he was all set to get the bugger right back on his finger where it belonged. Just because it might set his little blonde enemy off was neither here nor there. He had a grandsire getting poked, he had a ring that wasn’t yet found, and he had invulnerability that he was eager to use and actually kill the bloody girl this time.

Angel was looking more and more like the pretty picture he’d made of Dru and Spike himself in their glorious past, and Spike found that he was getting less satisfaction from that as he’d thought. Still, it enabled him to bring the cheerleader and the boy toy along so they could see the state of their boss and give Spike his blood ring back. He was starting to get so frustrated that he thought he just might eat them all.

“There’s just one incy wincy problem,” the brunette ventured and pushed a few more of his buttons.

“An’ what the bleeding hell would that be?” The stupid bint had the audacity to grin at him like she had some kind power over him.

“That would be me, Spikey. I never sent the ring to Angel.”

Spike turned and felt a dawning horror make his appendages shrivel. “Oh, bloody hell.” He was captivated by her pout and missed the stake that appeared from some hidden place on her body.

“Oh, and honey? One thing. Your friend Marcus?” Her stake zoomed across the warehouse and found its target in the torture specialist’s chest. He exploded with a furious roar. Buffy giggled and batted her eyelashes at Spike. She waited until she was standing right in front of him and linked her arms around his neck, becoming happily reacquainted with the mesmerising depths of his eyes. “He was going to doublecross you.”

“And you what? Came to save me?”

“Yeah.” Buffy grinned while taking that little step closer, rubbing her body a little against his front. “Aren’t you glad?”

Right, there was no way that this was happening to him. This bint had gone right off her tree. First the kissing and the coffee and the daft questions about giving up the hunt, and now she was looking out for him and trying to get him to defile himself in front of his grandsire by showing his immense bloody attraction to her? She was bleeding insane. She could run rings all the way round Dru and still come out even loopier. He took a giant step back and broke her hold on him.

“Are you completely off your bird? Why would I be all relieved that the Slayer came screaming to my rescue.”

She was hurt. He could tell and it hit him a little sharply, even if he wasn’t going back on it or taking the step that would put her back in his arms. Even if he might like to see what that felt like a little more. He could see the way she studied him, and then felt like sighing deep his relief when she dismissed her watcher and friends to getting her real favourite vampire back out of harm’s way. He intentionally blanked out the loud protests of the one that wasn’t quite up to retaliation and smirked internally at the picture the ponce must be leaving with. Spike in the Slayer’s arms. If Buffy could blank it out and ignore the one she really loved to make cow eyes at him for half an hour than who was he to object?

And then they were alone and Spike was knocked into a wall as his body was propelled backwards by the force of the Slayer diving into his arms and clamping her legs around his waist. Seconds crawled by and he finally felt the plush softness of her lips. Felt the warm wetness as she consumed him with her need. She licked the slit between his lips and he moaned even as his mouth opened and he allowed her in, sucking hungrily on one ripe, succulent lip even as he wanted to eat her all up. She tasted like coffee, just like the other time, though this was more potent because he was becoming familiar.

He felt her hands clasp the leather of his shoulders and then she was writhing against him, her mouth leaving him so she could suck on his neck, bite his throat as she rubbed her breasts against his chest. He felt her little nipples, hard and pointed as they scraped over his T-shirt. He reacted in the only way he could think how. He thrust her away hard, letting her fall on her back to the floor and then he dived on top of her, his fangs buried deep in her throat.

The first drop on his tongue changed his motivation and he stopped lying to himself. This chit was bloody delicious, and one meal of her was never going to be enough. And as much an aphrodisiac as her blood was, he’d go bug shagging crazy if he offed her now and had no one to sate his lust in close vicinity.

“Spike?” She breathed into his ear, her hand stroking his hair rather than attempting to push him away. She had flinched at the sting of his fangs as they had pierced her flesh, but her panic had died down a little as she felt the slowing and then stopping of his deep pulls on her blood. “I know I’m confusing you, but if you want to stop with the bitey then I could maybe explain what’s going on.”

He retracted his teeth and licked gently at the wounds, losing himself in images of other bites and other times he would get to taste her. “Pet?” He couldn’t move, couldn’t resolve himself to feeling nothing but air pressed up against his body. “Think the best thing might be to just leave it. Nothing good can come of this, and as much as I have no bleeding clue why you are pulling tricks like this in front of Peaches, I want no part of it. Sick of women using me for their little mind games. You got the poof. Jus’ let me alone, yeah?”

He couldn’t look at her as he jumped to his feet and ran out of there with an added spurt of his vampiric speed. Buffy was left, this time reclining uncomfortably on a dirty cement floor.

But she remained alone nonetheless.

“Damn, damn, damn.” Buffy flounced through the door into Angel’s agency and felt very annoyed chocolate brown eyes burn into her.

‘Would you care to explain that little scene from earlier?” He sounded a little strained, as if he’d squeezed the words through barely parted lips.

Even though she hadn’t lived them, four years of resentment of his disappearing acts and lack of being there when he was needed burned her to her very fingertips. She had too much info, too many memories of Spike being there, being on the edge of there, of just being. And Angel thought he had the right to go quizzing her now about her decisions in regards to Spike? She was the Slayer, she didn’t have to answer to anyone, especially to some Neanderthal vampire who thought he could use his soul as a convenient excuse to hurt her over and over again.

“Let me see.” She held her finger against her lips and looked for all the world like she was contemplating what to tell him. “I’m thinking no.”

His face turned thunderous as he spun back and forth from Cordelia’s know-it-all smirk and Giles’s nonchalant shrug. “What do you mean, no?”

Buffy just smiled sadly as she made her way over to her first love. It was funny how only a week ago the pain of losing him from her life was so severe that she thought she would never survive it. Then just one whacky dream—admittedly one that lasted for days—had completely turned her around. Seeing what her life would have been like if she had continued on this way, mourning and moping over losing Angel then determined to achieve an unnatural state of normal just like he had left her to do. Having that normal life with Riley, her PA—just seemed completely ludicrous to her now. The promise of Spike and his love should be wigging her way out. Should have her with a stake with his name carved into it, hunting him down and making him dust before he put his filthy hands on her.

But.

Those hands were a lot more delicious than she might have ever known if she hadn’t taken that chance to check him out over a coffee. That one afternoon in the park had taught her more than the reality of that dream. It had shown her that every single tingle that the dream had inspired when Spike-centred had been real. Had been wonderful. It taught her that helping him to be good, allowing herself to see the good in him, see the love in him, could do nothing but make her happy.

She’d fallen for the wrong vampire. And though distance hadn’t wrought her newly gained maturity in respect to the issue, hindsight and foresight had met in a slow slide of comfort that she just accepted what she now knew and allowed it to shape her heart all over again.

There was no point philosophizing about it now. She knew too much, and Angel was much better suited to where he now was, and with whom he was with.

She gave Angel a hard hug. A friend hug; nothing sensual, nothing longing to confuse or add to the angst. She pulled back way before he could try to prolong the contact.

“Spike won’t bother you for awhile so don’t worry about it. He’s our problem. I”ll deal with him.” She finished off with a grin that showed how much she was actually looking forward to dealing with that particular problem. “By the time you see Spike again, he’ll be no threat to anyone.”

Angel stared at her as incredulity left him speechless. His jaw worked hard at the clenching until he finally came up with words that he could get past his teeth. “And what about that ring he poked me full of holes for? How come you didn’t give it to me?”

“What world are you living in? Do you think it would actually be a good idea to give Angelus a ring that would make him invincible? I doubt you’d be as stupid as Spike and allow it to be taken from you so easily.”

He had the grace to look abashed, but he mixed it well with his brooding efforts. “Angelus is gone, Buffy. I’m unlikely to go and repeat those mistakes again.”

His words had the opposite effect. Buffy saw ‘mistake’ and saw red, or luckily for her, peroxide. She was finally thinking straight and making some good decisions.

“No way with the guiltage. There is no guarantee that Angelus won’t find his way back in to the world and I can’t take the risk. I’ll take care of the ring’s existence, too.” She turned to her watcher with an arched brow and he found his way tiredly to his feet. “Oh,” she added as something else came to her mind. “If you go fighting any Mohra demons, be sure that you don’t touch its blood if you don’t want to be turned human. And just in case you were wondering, if you were human or remained all vamped, we just couldn’t work. Together we just aren’t right. I’m really sorry if you thought that maybe one day, but—” Buffy left off pointedly looking at Cordelia and giving her the most genuine smile she’d ever attempted on the girl. “So, we’re free to love other people. Good luck, Angel.”

With an overwhelming sense of freedom, Buffy led Giles out of the office and back to his car. She cringed looking at the drab-coloured car, but saw it rightly as her way back to Spike and climbed eagerly in. Even if the trip would take an hour longer than a normal car.

Free. No more Angel with ties on her heart. No more wishing and hoping that the one day with Angel would make it round to her before her destiny took her away from the world. Though apparently that wasn’t so much of the permanent even when it did happen.

No, she was completely available. And Spike didn’t know what was going to hit him.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The Desoto was a black blur as Spike pressed his boot harder on the accelerator and he shot out of LA. No matter how many times he’d turned the wheel to head away from Sunnydale, he still ended up on the road back to the hell pit. It wasn’t what he’d planned. Ten minutes away from the Slayer and he was making new plans on how to kill her; when to do it and how much satisfaction seeing her drained corpse would give him. But he needed time to recover, to rejuvenate, and so needed to get as far from the bloody chit as he could.

Which is how he ended up speeding back towards the place that saw more misery for him than success. Back to the home of the Slayer—to either kill her, or become more confused. He could go to her watcher and find out what the hell she was about. Scare the idiot into making her behave like a Slayer was meant to.

It was really beginning to piss him off that the images of her death—an event that he became more and more creative with in his head—kept shifting to ones of passion. Ones where his naked body got more than satisfied by being shagged to death by her.

He couldn’t deny that he was attracted to her. She was beautiful in that nauseatingly goody-two shoes way. But he couldn’t give in to thinking of her that way. Just because she had completely gone off her nut, it wasn’t his problem. But if she offered herself up to him again, maybe he shouldn’t be so fast to knock her back. Could be a new tag to tack onto his evil Big Bad reputation. Killed two Slayer’s before thoroughly fucking another. Oh yeah, that would get him far in the demon world. But only if he killed her after the mind-blowing shag he suspected might be the result of letting down his guard. No, it was better to just kill her straight off. Twist her scrawny neck like he did the last Slayer, leaving no blood to drive his impulses into overdrive and possibly making a really bad mistake.

He slammed the brakes on about a metre over the ‘Welcome to Sunnydale’ sign, wishing he could do the same to other welcoming parties. If he could just mow the chit down his problems would be solved. He let his car rumble through the town and pulled slowly to a stop out front of the campus, hoping for a surreptitious glance at the Slayer in action. He did like to watch her fight.

There were too many walking about for him to find her, and he was willing to bet she’d be out in a cemetery somewhere. Didn’t matter. Even amongst all this appetizing fare, he could find her. Could sniff her out from a barrel of Slayers, so in tune with her he was. And that was courtesy of nothing but the many fights they’d had against each other. Had not a jot to do with the fact that she’d about branded him with her scorching heat and her tongue.

He parked the car and then found himself blending into the dark, creeping through evil in search of the one that had his purpose all twisted about.

And there she was, patrolling with one of her little friends, leaving the redhead exposed for all and sundry evil to take her down and feast upon her throat. Though Spike could admit it’d be a short meal before the Slayer had the idiot all dusty over her shiny boots.

Then he could hear her talking and it about sent him up the nearest tree.

“Buffy, you can’t trust him. I know you say you saw how it’s all going to go but those events had a sequence and he’s just not in the right place yet. You could get yourself killed.”

“Spike is not going to kill me, Will. If he was going to then he would have done it last night when he had his fangs in my throat.”

Despite his horror about how confident she was in believing she’d be completely safe at the end of his teeth, he couldn’t help grin and revel in the shudder that made the redhead’s whole body weak.

“I can’t believe you didn’t fight him off.”

Buffy sighed. She seemed more than a little sad. “I can’t believe he took off without any explanations. I mean, the kissage was just getting to the major wow part, and then he what? Can’t bear to know why I’m pursuing him that way, so he takes off as if his coat was on fire?”

Spike looked down a quick burst of paranoia just to check that she was making that one up.

“But Buffy, I mean, Spike? Are you really sure? Maybe the Power’s were telling you to dust him before he has so much impact on your life. Maybe having him around for the next so many years is actually a bad thing.”

Spike stood completely statue-like, shocked by the conversation and its implications. He wanted to run far far away so he never had to see the little blonde and any of these interfering Scoobies ever again. But another part of him held him still, wouldn’t let him move until he heard exactly what she had to say about him, about why she was doing this and not dusting him like Red and he both suspected she should be.

“Will’s, if you could see the way he loves. If you could see how loyal he is, how he cares and how he believes. He might be evil, but he has a heart that doesn’t deserve to dust.”

He was in shock, and holding himself fiercely back so he wouldn’t embarrass himself and tackle her outright and kiss her into an early grave. In just two sentences she got him, summed him up in a way he had wanted other women in his life to and then love him in return. Okay, she’d switched it all around on him again and he was all topsy-turvy, didn’t know his arse from his elbow and it was all because of a tiny blonde rocket. He was doomed.

“Okay, so he’s a deep feeler. I get that, ‘cause hey, devoted to Drusilla for much longer than she deserved. But that isn’t you, Buffy. Just because he may fall for you, doesn’t mean that you have to feel the same way.”

Despite being almost comatose at that little pearl of information, Spike stayed dumbstruck listening for her reasoning. Why the bloody hell did she decide to go for him? Was it just to drive him out of his mind? Because no one could deny that she loved the Poof first and foremost.

“You’re right.”

Spike felt a growl rise in his chest as she became the next in his line of women to hurt and deny him. So he watched as she flopped onto the grass and readied herself for her tale. She pet the grass beside her and Willow looked warily around before she lowered herself beside her friend.

“Willow, before the Power’s made me dream and see all of that stuff that’s going to happen to us, Angel was my life. I mean, there were you guys and the slaying, and my mom and school, but Angel shadowed everything. I made every decision based on what he wanted for me. I wasted so many years trying to be normal, to have normal just because that’s why he left, but deep in my heart I believed we would be back together. For years I hurt people that loved me because he changed the way my heart worked. He made me blind to the truth. I don’t think I can explain this in a way you will understand but the way that Spike loves is so completely selfless, so devoted. Angel is incapable of loving me that way. And before you go and think that I’ve given up Angel for Spike only because I can’t ever have Angel, I do fall for him. It’s too late when I finally admit it. I waste so much time denying him, Willow. It makes no one happy. I don’t have the feelings yet, but they aren’t that far away. I want him, Willow. It’s as simple as that.”

And Spike felt weak in the knees for the first time in his unlife. Before he could hear more, could be completely bloody neutered and rendered useless, he disappeared. He needed time to think and work out what in the hell she was talking about.

He’d confront her another day. Hopefully one where he’d claimed his balls back.

He was pacing. Pacing like a caged animal. The bloody bint had managed to curtail his normal activities and thoughts with the bizarre change of attitude towards him. It had him so completely out of sorts that all he was left with was the useless swirling in his head. One minute he was all set to tear out there and rip her head off her shoulders, but then the next he remembered her voice; quiet and sweet and caring. And her mouth, those lush lips that made offers that he should never have received.

So, like a man possessed, he’d given up the pacing and switched over to stalking. Which was far more satisfying to his evil bone than the useless chasing his tail he’d been doing while trying to make sense of what he had heard from the Slayer’s mouth. He was going about it all wrong. He should just confront the chit, make her tell him what all this was about.

But then that might just ruin the fun. She’d obviously developed a soft spot for him, and even though that knocked him for a loop, he could see now that it made her vulnerable. So what if she had somehow seen a side of him he more often than not kept hidden. An element of his personality only those closest to him had seen in the past one hundred years. Namely Dru since Peaches had done his cut and run. Anyone could get a soul and do the disappearing act. No, it took courage to stay with your family and work it out. Courage that bled from Liam’s body the second Darla’s teeth found his spongy neck.

In his distraction he didn’t notice the great moronic Neanderthal Angel rip-off that approached his Slayer, all wholesome and pure as he smiled sweetly at the girl. Spike felt a possessive growl rumble in his chest even as he held back and watched. Clenched his hands in clawed fists as Buffy sidestepped the boy’s approach and made some quick excuse to send him on his merry way. It soothed the demon in him and he couldn’t help but smile. Sure, he was going to drain the very life from her overly perky body, but in the meantime, no one with a face as smooth as a monkey’s arse was taking over his territory.

Spike reveled in the look of dejected sorrow on the git’s face before Buffy flubbed him once more and the enormous Angel clone continued on his way. Then Spike jumped a foot high as Buffy sighed out his name and called him to come out.

He hadn’t even felt his limbs move, blinking in confusion as he looked from where he had been standing to where he was now. Right in front of her, hands in his duster pockets and a slight tilt to his head that set her pulse racing. That was more than interesting. Had to be magic. No way did he just end up answering her call like some infatuated schoolboy.

“Right. Slayer.” He nodded his head at her abruptly in greeting, trying to hide how his lack of direction in this situation was setting him off-centre.

“Are you following me?” She beamed at him, her eyes glinting in the moonlight and her lips all shiny pink with some kind of gloss. She seemed too eager for it to be the truth and despite hearing what he thought he had, he was more than miffed by her scary about face in regards to him.

“Just out an’ about,” he lied baldly, trying hard not to let his left eye flinch. Bloody stupid nervous twitch. Always gave him away.

“Wanna walk?”

Before he could answer, she’d tucked her arm through his and led him off on a leisurely trek through the darkness of Sunnydale. He was completely screwed. For the minute he couldn’t even remember how he regularly cracked a neck. Or drained a vein. He even forgot to take a look at her throat. Her shiny lips were too much of a distraction, not to mention the perky breast pressed up against his arm.

“So, you know it’s kinda not safe around here in the dark these days?” Buffy asked, her voice all friendly and helpful as she squeezed his arm all flirty like.

Spike’s eyes bugged and then he barked out a laugh.

“What bleeding substance are you abusing, luv? ‘Cause I want some.”

“Ssh,” she hissed at him in warning. “They could be watching.”

He dropped her arm and spun around, scenting no one and hearing no heartbeats. He looked at her once more, felt himself shrink a little under the full impact of her sappy smile and came to a decision.

“Right. You’re too bloody barmy to kill tonight. I’m takin’ you home before you do yourself a damage.”

He grabbed her arm and began to drag her back to the well lit campus. She dug in her heels until he stopped, pried off his firm grip on her arm and then linked their hands together.

“You gonna walk me home? That is so sweet.” She grinned, and then taking advantage of his comatose like stillness, she dived in and pecked at his lips.

Spike expelled a strangled gasp, his shock making him suddenly inept.

“’M a bloody vampire, pet. What the—” Her hand slapped over his mouth and she looked around with worried eyes.

“Don’t say that,” she whispered as she got all close and personal with his ear. Her warm breath tickled and he shuddered. Thank the flaming Powers that he had his coat to hide all his body’s irrational reactions.

“Shouldn’t have to say it, Slayer,” he almost shouted, his mood bordering on hysterical with all the obscene niceness she was throwing his way.

And before he could say anymore, or get enough wits about him to bite her, she had her arms wound around his neck and was kissing him. Not like a sister, or an aunt or even a reasonably well known acquaintance. She was attacking his mouth with gusto, slipping her tongue over his lips even as she sucked on the lower, using her teeth to scrape delicately at the skin.

She’d blown up his brain. Obviously that gloss had some tranquilising effect on vamps and she’d completely neutralised him as a threat. There was nothing left for him to do but to follow the age old rhythm of kissing. Participate in the way his body was geared.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist and he hauled her body against his, allowing himself to feel the roar of energy that flowed between them. His brain had completely shutdown so letting go to what she unleashed by touching him was completely acceptable. He couldn’t be held accountable for hormones—and a girl’s no less. He was evil.

“Hmm, ‘m evil,” he murmured against her lips even as his hand raised and tangled in her hair, not allowing her the possibility of breaking free of what she’d started.

“Very,” she agreed in a breathy huskiness that made all parts of him spring to life—except that one valuable part of him that sorted things out and had already closed its doors for the night.

And then she was sucking his tongue deep into her mouth, licking it and stroking it with her own as her leg started a slow and infuriating friction against his hip. It wasn’t enough, so he hooked her knee over his hip bone and raised her a little, pushing her back into the trunk of a tree as he began to grind himself hard into her. He felt his crotch aflame, everywhere she touched getting hotter and more urgent to be free of barriers.

As his hand wandered up under her top and zeroed in on a hard little protruding nub through her bra, he got the shock of his life when she very gently pulled him away. She was panting frantically, her eyes sweeping over every part of him as he watched her hands flex.

“This is so dangerous,” she whispered, even as her arms were reaching to take him back into their comfort and resume the madness.

It was enough to make his brain get that little kick it needed to start processing some things. He blinked, looked at her in shock and some kind of forced revulsion as he pushed away from her.

“Too bleeding right, I’m dangerous. You’re playing with fire, little girl.”

The little bitch had the audacity to giggle at him, slinking her body close to him as she reached out a finger to slowly trace the line of his bottom lip.

“Not you, silly. Doing this here. Too many nasties about.”

With a burst of fury he felt his body succumb to left over weakness—he shuddered. The finger waved over his chin and rejoined his shapely outline as she got closer to his abs. He felt a glint of satisfied carnal power as he watched her lick her lips in hunger, and then he all but squeaked when her hand swept over his muscles and brushed over the straining hardness against his zipper. He watched incredulous as she brushed against him again as her delicate little hand drifted back up, dawdling at the zipper. Her fingers flicked at it, her thumb nudging the stud that was the first hurdle to disrobing his lower half.

He couldn’t say a word. His member pulsed violently against the grating metal and he hoped hard for more, even as he wanted to drain her. Still, he was completely unprepared for her quick look into his eyes, her own heavily clouded with her want. They were alone. He could sense no one around them and he was completely open to seeing what she would eventually do. She apparently made the decision and before he could hear or feel the teeth pull apart he flopped free and in her hands.

His groan of pure animal lust got buried in the rumble of his chest as she was on him again, her lips raking hard over his as her hand clasped him almost painfully tight and stroked him to insanity. He felt the slow seep out of his slit as her fingers rubbed it into the tip, then sought her motion along the shaft. Without realizing, he started to help her pump his cock, pulling her closer so he could taste the fullness of her lips and the intoxicating heat of her mouth, all while shielding her with his coat.

Yet he was angry, feeling like she had some hidden power to make him useless and unable to fight and kill. He shouldn’t be feeling like this, shouldn’t be wanting to spill all over her pretty body and her glowing skin. So he rebelled in the only way he could. He took his hands off hers, let her do all the work for no payoff. She whimpered at his lack of return on the kiss even as her hand sped up and he could feel the hot burn in his balls as the pressure rose and he exploded, shooting himself all over her clothes, her hand too inexperienced to know how to cup it and prevent the spurting fountain.

Buffy flushed crimson as she took in the thick off white slime that was now clinging like snot on her top, wrinkling her nose a little even as the humour came to hit her between the eyes. Still, she was speechless, her eyes searching desperately for something in his and dropping in embarrassment when she was unsuccessful. For the first time she felt confusion shroud her decision. He didn’t want to want her. Willow was right. He wasn’t ready to love her yet. All she could do was sigh sadly and wish it were different.

She couldn’t help the tear in her eye as she caught him looking at her. Buffy wiped the stickiness off her hand onto her shirt, shrugging at the added grossness. She could tell Willow it was a demon. The lack of lie made her lips curl in a smile, but still Spike looked at her like thunder was his father. The slayer felt sadness settle on her shoulders and unlike her previous behaviour she asked instead of pushed.

“Can you keep walking me home?”

Spike tilted his head and contemplated her change, her loss of confidence. He was NOT going to give it back to her by telling her what that little act of submissiveness had felt like. No bleeding way was he making himself more vulnerable to the slayer.

“’M sure you know the way, pet. Best for me to be on my way.”

She could only nod and Spike felt surprise as he heard her heart slow. “Okay. But be careful. Please? Promise me.”

“Sure, Slayer. Just like the Big Bad to go scampering off afraid of a little beastie or two.”

Before she could object to his blasé attitude, he’d gone. Like a blur of black and white he left her with further warning just a whisper on her lips.

“Just come to me when you need me, Spike.”

Feeling a mix of euphoria and dejection, Buffy went back to her dorm to wait. It was only a matter of time.

Two days.

”Buffy, have you seen Spike recently?” Giles attempted to break into her preoccupied state, getting worried for the lip she had gnawed at till it was bloody.

“No,” Buffy answered loudly, her mounting concern obvious.

“Hey, no need to stress. So the Big Bad’s not lurking at our necks. That can’t be anything but good.”

“Shut up, Xander!” Buffy and Giles shouted, the Watcher blinking in surprise at his own irritated yet spontaneous reaction.

“Xander, you’re not helping.” Willow patted his hand and gave him a dim smile, not liking how he kept denying the truth of what Buffy wanted, even if she herself thought it was beyond risky and just an incy bit suspect.

“So, what are you thinking, Buffy? Do you think he’s left or possibly been caught by the Initiative?” Giles rubbed his glasses, letting the fabric of his hanky hypnotise away his own anxiety.

“I haven’t been able to sense him around anywhere, and I really don’t think he would have left without taunting me about it.” Buffy started pacing, wringing her hands in a very unusual display of her worry. “I think he must have been caught. We have to get him out.”

“What? No! Didn’t you say he gets some chip thingy? Leave him there and make sure he gets it. Chips ahoy. It’s not like we don’t know he’ll be alright.”

“Xander Harris, if you don’t sit your butt down and keep your lips zipped, I’ll ban you from Krispy Kremes for the rest of the year.” Willow huffed in satisfaction as he quickly fell to the couch and pressed his lips tightly together. Then she turned to Buffy, frowning at the concern her friend and the Slayer seemed to be consumed by.

When she saw the little diamond of a tear fall down the blonde’s cheek, she stood up straighter and determined to help.

“What do you want us to do?” she asked and let her breath whoosh out on a heavy sigh as Buffy seemed to perk up and get a little more business-like.

“I have to get him out. No matter how long he’s been in there they would have given him the chip first. The rest is probably torture and studying him like he’s a lab rat. I don’t have clearance to get in this time around, so I think the best bet is for me to get caught.”

Giles and Willow’s eyes widened in shock.

The ‘NO’ that exploded into the room was no surprise, and rather than show her apprehension about the plan that was niggling away at her brain, she smiled.

“I’m gonna need you guys to help me.” She ignored their shaking heads, the almost volatile Xander struggling with his earlier fear of losing his favourite snack by opening his mouth with the other two. “There’ll be magic involved,” she added chirpily and giggled at seeing Willow’s whole demeanour change.

“Ooh, like what? What kind of spells?”

Buffy chewed a little further on her lip, ignoring the sharp pain and the bitter taste of her own blood. “The first thing I guess is that they won’t catch me unless they think I’m a vamp. Will, can you do something to make me seem like a vampire? Cold blood, no pulse, that kind of thing? Then again, maybe a glamour or something? I could attack them and they would just take me down.”

“But Buffy,” Xander shouted, his concern overwhelming his possible loss of his fave donuts. “What if you end up with a chip in your head before you can wake up?”

The Slayer looked at her brawny friend in approval.

“Great thinking, Xan.” Buffy quickly turned back to the firepower of this little rendezvous and shot out ideas, knowing Willow was more than up for the challenge. “Okay, they have these tazer type weapons they use to debilitate their prey. What if you could juice me up? Or how about allowing me to somehow induct the energy from the tazers and then I can act knocked out, even though I’m really not.” She beamed, really excited about her ideas and eager to get out there and save her Spike.

“Maybe you guys can follow along behind and watch how they take me in. That’ll really help when we need to go back in and take out their operation permanently.” Buffy’s bravado was catching and the military man in Xander was revelling in seeing the inside of an operation such as the Initiative.

Giles and Willow dived to the shelves, eagerly pulling out all volumes that might feature spells like the ones Buffy would require.

They had until nightfall.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

She recognised Riley through the memory of overt closeness. The type of closeness that now made her feel slightly green for not experiencing the attraction again.

He was with his army buddies, covered head to toe in camouflage wear and grasping hi-tech weapons. It was the way he walked, the way he spun around looking for evil to catch and hogtie back to base.

When Willow had completed the spell and made Buffy a glamourised vampire, they’d all gasped. “Whoa. You look a bit like Darla,” Xander had immediately told her, looking a little sheepish at her roll of eyes.

Now she stood and chuckled at how she was going to put a spanner in their works, or was it a hammer? Whatever, she was getting in and getting Spike so out.

So when she found herself in front of their group, she had a smile on her face. Fake lumpies and fangs making her skin itch.

“Hiya boys. Whatcha doin’?”

Riley stepped forward, his body strong with his over supply of bravery. “I think we were out looking for you.”

Buffy tilted her head to the side and felt a flutter in her heart at how she was adopting Spike’s moves. Her arms crossed over her chest and she jutted out a hip, her lips still showing her amusement. “What a coincidence. I was looking for something big and juicy to eat before bedtime, too.”

They didn’t move in response to her easy, conversational threat. Buffy had thought that she would be majorly wigged at being all vampy for even an hour, but it was kind of fun. Fun in that way of the getting of revenge for leaving her and being a vamp chew toy. Yeah, she could live with it. Especially if she got Spike out of there.

It was like a Mexican standoff. Buffy couldn’t help herself; she giggled. Then attacked, taking Riley down hard as his second and third in command—Forrest and Graham—scuttled around to help him up while preparing their stun guns.

Buffy flinched a little at seeing them charge, but felt confident in Willow’s abilities. She’d seen in her dreams what Willow was capable of after all. So she let them sneak up behind her, allowed her fists to defend herself against a group that were intent on doing her as much harm as they could. She felt a peculiar lack of guilt as her fist sunk into Riley’s softer belly and he was winded, dropping to the ground on his knees as he let out a few gasping breaths.

And then she felt the prongs latch on through her clothing, bolts of electricity not quite hitting her body so much as being absorbed by it. The flash of light behind her eyes was all she needed to know that it was time and she collapsed—apparently unconscious—at their feet.

Buffy felt them fling her around, wanting so much to snap out of this pretend sleep and give them the fight of their lives, but Spike meant more than her own discomfort right now. Still, she tallied up all their vile touches and rougher than rough handling, and smiled within at how she was going to bring them all down. With a chipped vampire by her side. Sheepishly, she added the rest of the Scooby gang while she tried to think of other things so she wouldn’t snap to it and start the round of revenge before she even got to the lab.

Her eyes were closed but even she knew when she crossed into the stark cold of military white. One eye opened barely a slit and she could tell she was about to be locked in a cell, which would kind of defeat her whole purpose. So she bucked against the shoulder of the soldier that was carrying her and struck out with one booted foot as she gained her balance, her lightening movements managing just to prevent the soldiers from getting out and locking her within. She knocked them unconscious, all but Riley as she grabbed his limp and pained body by his army regulation shirt and tugged him out of the cell.

Buffy’s eyes widened at the long rows of sterile cells, holding more demons than she thought actually existed on the Hellmouth.

“God. Did you actually catch all these here? Some of them must be harmless if I’ve never come across them.”

Buffy ignored the grunts of discomfort from Riley as she dragged him down the row, her eyes fixated on finding Spike and getting out. He was half way down, and as she attempted to use the slidy card thingy she stole from one of the more comatose of the soldiers back at her own cell, Riley decided it was time to bear through the pain and try to be the hero. His knees buckled once Buffy had his arms twisted behind his back.

“Now now, you gotta learn when it’s time to just stop fighting the inevitable. You’ll never win against me, Riley. I’m too strong. Now, let’s get Spike, shall we?”

The door slid open as Riley stared at her in confusion, the vamp face still in effect. Buffy was relieved, knowing that it would cause a whole world of problems if Professor Walsh could identify her now. She wasn’t ready to embark on that part of her ‘tell all’ dream, so being all vampy suited her just fine for now.

Spike was passed out on the floor; the scent of human so close doing little to alert him to danger. His eyes slid open a crack and he flinched at the brightness of fluorescent light before slowly dragging himself to his feet. He licked at dry, cracked lips and stumbled at his weakness.

“Bloody hell, what did you bastards do to me?” His voice was rough, almost broken with thirst.

Buffy felt no guilt as she punched Riley hard, letting him slide immobile to the floor and freeing her arms to grab hold of Spike and move him to the door. She felt cold at how pale he was, how malnourished he looked. And felt a surge of anger at herself that she’d needed him to get the chip so he could be part of her life.

Amazingly there were no sirens yet; no one had discovered her infiltration of the system and the scattered downed soldiers littering an empty cell further down the row.

“Move that ass, Spike. If we don’t get out of here now we may never escape.”

Spike stopped in dead shock, his weakness and surprise overwhelming his feet as he stumbled.

“Slayer?”

Buffy grinned then leaned forward and quickly pecked him on the lips. “Come on, Spike. You look so deader than usual.” She giggled quietly as she slung his arm over her shoulder, bearing his weight as she pulled him back to a quick walk, cleverly avoiding any main turns that showed an abundance of army authority. Finally she found a grate and pushed Spike through, relieved at last to be on their way out. It had all happened so fast and they were back outside the secret compound, left to bask in relief under the shining moon.

When she turned back to Spike, she embraced his weak frame hard and in giddy happiness she didn’t even feel insulted when he opened his mouth.

“You look right tasty as a vamp, luv. Though a little too much like Darla for my tastes.”

In the space between her thump on his shoulder and her blinding smile, she changed, her Slayer face back to dominate her features.

“Ahhh,” he sighed, allowing himself to collapse a little in her arms. “Never thought I’d prefer that look, Slayer.”

Buffy kissed him again, her happiness catching on a little as she dragged him further to safety. Back to Giles’s where they had packets of blood all set up.

No more words were spoken as she led him to her Watcher’s apartment, and they slipped comfortably into the night, leaving uproar and anger in their wake.

It was all as it should be—and more.

Every time his eyes fell on her, she was smiling. No, grinning. Like a bloody loon, if the truth be told.

His arse was parked on the Watcher’s couch and it was all he could do to not faint with unaccustomed weakness while he waited for the idiots to feed him. He’d tried to dive for the boy’s throat—the one he’d almost managed to eat the year before during his ill-thought out attempt to retrieve Dru through magic—and managed to do nothing but fall on his face and succumb to a blinding pain that ripped through his skull.

Now he was on display like a circus freak, the Slayer and her goodie brigade watching him with a mix of wary and excited interest as he swayed from side to side on the verge of passing out. His body ached with fatigue and his head pounded enough to set his fangs on edge. And all these humans with pumping hearts were making his mouth water. If it wasn’t for the Slayer sitting right there, smiling softly at him like he was her long lost love brought back to her, he’d probably try to snack on them again. The little redhead had always been one he wanted a taste of. Pity her high-pitched chatter and rambling annoyed the piss out of him.

“Which bloody one of you is goin’ to come peacefully and offer me a snack?” His eyelids were drooping even as he fixed on the Slayer’s delectable throat and he licked his lips. He almost felt her shivered reaction and then it was black and he didn’t care anymore.

The Scoobies watched as the Big Bad they’d all been terrified of for the past two years flaked out in front of them.

“Well, that was a great load of anti-climactic fear,” Xander confirmed, Scoobies nodding in agreement even as they eased up a little.

“Xander, you told me this vampire was scary. He doesn’t look scary. He looks seriously in need of some good orgasms and some blood, but not scary.” Anya shared her rather oblivious grin with the surrounding crowd and then took another look at the resting vamp and licked her lips.

Buffy jumped to her feet, her hands already on her hips as she positioned herself in front of Spike.

“The vamp is NOT for you to play with. You have Xander to give you orgasms, and trust me, you two should stick to that. Come near him and I will conveniently forget your recent affliction of human status.” Buffy glared at the other blonde, feeling a slight satisfaction as her sappy grin slipped and she was backing away nervously.

“Whoa there, Buff…got it loud and clear. I see a Buffy stamp right there on his forehead. See, with the swirls of red paint that says, ‘Property of the Big Bad Slayer’?”

Buffy loosened her stance just a little, feeling suddenly guilty that she might have overreacted a tiny bit.

“Right…yeah…kinda sorry about snapping at you,” Buffy mumbled almost incoherently as her eyes searched for another focus and a change of topic. She saw Giles on his way to the coffee table, an armful of ropes hitting the polished surface with a thud.

“Oh no,” she objected, knowing all too well from her three day dream that chaining Spike to bathtubs and tying him to chairs was just massive on the overkillage. “He won’t be able to hurt any of us with the chip. Remember? I told you guys this. He’s all ‘grrrr’, but now without the ‘argggghhhh’.” Buffy was nodding at each of her friends in turn, a big happy smile on her face that was shocked right off of it the next second when a low, growly—possibly hungry—roar hit her eardrums.

“Is that bloody right, Slayer?” The outburst seemed to wipe out Spike’s vocal chords for a second and he pressed his lips together while waiting for another build-up of strength. His glaze flicked around the room and alighted on the smug face of the boy that he’d tried to munch on earlier.

Before he let words sap him of energy again, he wobbled to his feet and stood as menacingly as his shaking body could allow in front of the slayer, letting the curl of his lip show his derision.

“An’ pray tell, Miss Almighty. Why am I so bleeding helpless and fangless in your priceless estimation?”

“Oh no,” Xander objected, taking an initial step forward before his old prejudices and fears kicked in and he hastened to retreat that telling move. “Buffy knew it. Said you needed the chip and waited, or we would never have helped her get you out.”

It was a glare of pure hate as his face turned to ridges and fangs dropped.

“You self-righteous bitch. You knew those bleeding wankers were going to do something to me and you just sat on back and waited till they’d done it? What, do they give you a cut of the profits or something?” he snarled with feral fury.

Buffy stood shocked, contemplating either bursting into tears because it was all going so wrong, or belting Xander several times over the head for letting out the facts before she’d thought to tell him to keep his big over-confident mouth closed.

She couldn’t stop her bottom lip from wobbling though, and the confidence leaked from her stance as her green eyes were speared by furious amber.

“No. I-I just thought—“ She tried to stop her body from shaking, knowing that if she just took several deep breaths she could bring it all back on track and Spike would see she was just what he needed.

“Thought what? That one pet vampire is just not enough? I’m not interested in whatever games you’re playing. You’re turning my head inside bloody out and it’s got to stop.” He was struggling to get control of his fangs, wanting so badly to dive for her throat and make the bitch hurt.

“But…you need me?” Buffy sputtered hopefully, her eyes pleaded with him to just stop and give her a moment to regroup.

“Like hell do I need someone like you. You’re a bleeding menace, and not just to my peace of mind. No Slayer, I think you’ve done more than enough.” And in one giant huff, he’d managed to stumble to the door and was out in the night, too high on adrenaline and fury to know that he could be doing little but standing in dangers way.

One thought clicked over and over on repeat, bloody hell he was hungry.


~ * ~ * ~ * ~

He couldn’t believe it. He knew the Slayer resented the fact that he was strong and had so nearly killed her on numerous occasions. But was she so jealous she had to render him completely unable to defend himself?

After the fifth attempt to sink his fangs into a succulent and promising neck, he’d about keeled over in blinding pain. He was in the process of looking for something sharp so he could cut his own head off, anything to stop this mindless torture. And then came the knowledge that he needed help, and it galled him no end that he’d have to almost crawl back to the evil troupe that called themselves White Hats. They were more evil than he was for what they’d allowed. She could have just staked him, given him a challenge and a death worthy of the master that he was. Was. Hardly a master now when he couldn’t even hunt and feed himself. Instead, she’d bloody neutered him like some troublesome dog.

As Satan and Angelus was his witness, he’d find some way to snap that pretty golden neck before he was done, or have his head explode while trying. Then again, he could be just left to hang out in this fabulous display of sunlight and dust all over the Watcher’s front door mat. Spike could be considerate like that. He’d even ignite and take his raggedy blanket with him.

By the time the door creaked open, Buffy spying who it was and hauling him violently inside in relief, he didn’t much care about the spark that had started a tiny fire on his back. She belted him good, though, and put that little flame out, digging into a spot of charred flesh while she was about it.

Spike was laying chest down on the floor, letting his cheek rest on the Watcher’s lovely carpet as his vision blurred from starvation. He was finished with the lot of it. Too hungry, too tired, too disgusted with his unusual vampire weakness. This floor looked right comfy and as far as he was concerned, he was happy to lay there and rot, as long as he never had to look at that chirpy ‘I told you so’ face ever again.

“Spike? Spike. Come on, don’t be a big vamp baby. Sit up and let me help you.”

He rolled over and saw a grinning Slayer swimming in his vision above him.

“’M hungry,” he told her, refusing to acknowledge the blissful looking smile she was bestowing on him while she picked up his hand and began to help him off the floor.

“Well, of course. That’ll happen when your little Happy Meals get taken off the Spikey menu. What can I getcha? And did I say yet, ‘I told you so’?”

He had that small bit of energy left in him to remind him who he was. Remind him why he was where he was. Spike snarled and let his lip curl in that way he loved to show how much he hated who he was talking to.

“Screw you, Baby Hitler.” He wrenched himself away from her helpful hand and almost fell the rest of the way to the sofa, smirking internally at how the description fit. She was twice as ferocious as the little Nazi bugger, and he would know, having met the burk at least twice.

Once he made it to a reclining position, he gave up on caring if they ever gave him food, ready to die by whatever means was quickest. One deep breath and he caught the faint whiff of distress, but as his own was rather high on his ladder of concern, he couldn’t give a toss about it.

His audience looked on as he faded out once again, sprawled spread-eagled over the couch like he owned it.

Buffy sniffled as she kept her eyes clamped to his body.

“M-maybe I made a mistake?” she said as she looked and found the sympathetic glances of her friends and watcher. “Maybe I shouldn’t have let him get chipped. I was being selfish. I had no right, and now he may never forgive me and I’ve ruined everything the Power’s showed me. What good is having visions if I just muck them all up?”

“Buffy, I’m sure everything will turn out okay. I mean, he’s all hungry vamp right now, and look, he’s a bit on the weak side, and no guy likes his girl to see him weak. Being a vampire, I’m sure looking less than his powerful mastery best in front of the Slayer is not the height of his happy moments.” Willow rubbed Buffy’s back reassuringly, her eyes wide with panic as she looked at Xander and Anya for some input.

“Yeah, Buff. I’m sure once Captain Peroxide gets some blood down his belly, he’ll be all with the happy and the smoochies in no time.” Xander was looking like he wanted to puke at the sentiments he had just given voice to. His lack of desire to see his Buffy anywhere near the bleached misfit weighed heavily on his staking hand, despite the rather definite chin wobble that Buffy was struggling to control.

“You really think so?”

Why oh why was she looking at him to confirm the obvious disaster of all things joined vamp and slayer?

“Oh abso with the lutely. It’ll be terrific. But hey, the guy needs blood. Giles?” he bellowed as he quickly moved away from Buffy’s hopeful gaze, not wanting to be sucked into this farce of a relationship anymore than he already had been.

An agonised moan on the sofa had Buffy rush to give his poor head a pillow in her lap and she looked frantically at her Watcher, still rooted to the spot despite Xander’s attempts to drag him away from the situation like some kind of alibi when things went wrong.

“Giles?” She’d caught him, decidedly punishing him for standing still throughout the drama. “Can you heat the blood up?”

And they were all active, some like Xander darting out the door for other day to day activities that didn’t include feeding impotent vampires. Giles tended to the necessity of blood, surrendering his least favourite mug to the cause, so that his Slayer stayed happy and functional.

The smell of blood brought him to, wondering at the slight incline of his head on something soft. When a mug was waved under his nose and he was helped to sit, he finally realised he’d been cushioned on his enemies lap.

He took the mug to his lips without a word, sipping slowly despite the great tearing hunger that made his whole body hurt. He felt himself held upright against her body, felt the warmth of her flesh even as he was infused with the artificial heating of his blood.

With resigned acceptance he fed, leaned on her and mentally plotted his revenge. Before he was dust he would see this room coated in red.

Okay, so she could get that it would take her friends a little longer than her to adjust. Wasn’t like they’d had the dream of a lifetime and knew that being afraid of Spike was a useless waste of energy. Still, she felt like screaming every time she heard the chain rattle against the enamel of the tub, settling instead for a petulant stamp of the foot as she stood fuming beside Giles, cup of blood in hand and sporting a deep scowl.

“I know what you say you dreamed, Buffy. But acting like a spoiled child will not change my mind. For my own piece of mind, I think it is safer for all of us if Spike were chained up.” Giles passed her the mug, glared at his restrained vampire and left the room.

Buffy blinked slowly and closed her eyes against the tears that were threatening to bring her to her knees. She finally had him and he was so angry with her. She could see the violence in him every time he looked at her. She had absolutely no idea how to make this sitch better for either of them. She only seemed to know how to make it worse.

“Oi, bit o’ nourishment needed over here.” Spike had watched her arguments for maintaining his freedom and had clenched his jaw at the obvious failure. So, for some reason she knew more about his condition than anyone and why was that exactly? Did she set the whole thing up?

He couldn’t help the twitch of his nose as the scent of warm blood moved closer. He shuffled his bum over the smooth surface of the tub to get closer to the edge, turning his nose up for only a second before he dived on the little bendy straw that was between him and the good stuff.

“I’m sorry.” Buffy’s voice was soft, hesitant, and she had yet to raise her eyes to look at him.

“Yeah. Could tell that by the great piercing pain in my head.” Spike struggled to maintain his angry indifference in spite of her developing sniffles, refusing to let a woman in tears shift his temper when she was undoubtedly in the wrong.

“You weren’t ready for me,” she stated, watery eyes at last making his level as she begged for some kind of understanding.

She actually looked pretty gorgeous all emotional and the like. Spike tilted his head, straw stuck to his bottom lip as he contemplated what she’d said.

“Don’ think any bloke would be ready for you, Slayer.”

He got a smile. It was small but a curve of red nevertheless. And for some reason it riled him that it settled the raging beast that wanted destruction. But he felt good inside for the small step away from the violence and his confusion of the past weeks.

“I tried to warn you,” she said softly again, sucking in a breath at his raised brow. “That night you walked me back to my dorm.”

He spluttered and blood bubbled up out of the mug and sprayed the bathroom wall. “The night you bloody pulled me off, you mean!”

Hell, her blush made him hot and hard in all the wrong places. As Spike shifted in the tub, trying to soothe the position of his zipper, he started to revise that assumption. At least one of those places felt bloody good. Right. No fighting it then. The Slayer got him horny. Slayer made him forget himself and get a little lax with his own security. She had made a few rather odd statements that night, told him to be careful, and he thought she was just barmy.

Well, now he had a little bull ring to tether him permanently in place. That’d teach him for thinking every woman that wanted him was off her rocker.

“Right. Guess you did in a very cryptic sort of way.” His back relaxed against the bath and he watched her; wondered at her nervousness. He could see the fun in playing with her, but there was something else that made him wary about staying amongst the same status quo. She might have allowed those military bastards to turn him into a lab rat, but she had also managed to get him out. He couldn’t deny the girl was pretty inventive, too.

“Did they hurt you?” And again the tears were evident in her voice, embarrassing the strongest woman he knew into ducking her head and hiding her fear.

Did they hurt him? Other than shoving some pretty incapacitating hardware in his brain and making it impossible for him to be who he was? Nah, he’d just had to wait. Be starved, or drugged…which ever one he settled for that day. But he knew he’d get out, despite the long trail of demons that came out of their cells on stretchers for experimentation only to never return again. Yeah, he’d been pretty lucky. Neutered, but no, not hurt.

“Not really,” he replied and Buffy finally released the pent up adrenaline that kept her upright. She sank hard to her knees, gripping the outside edge of the tub and was thankful that she got him out before they did nasty things to his very scrumptious body.

“So, what do you Samaritan types do around here for the holidays?” He waited expectantly, hoping the change in topic would get her back together and stop this uncharacteristic moping around his current bed.

“Huh?” The Slayer curled her top lip and wrinkled her nose, obviously lost in some other dimension of vampire sitting duty.

“You know, pet. What is it? One of those nauseatingly chipper days where everyone sits around telling tall tales about how grateful they are no one was able to kill them?”

“Oh,” she said as her eyes lit up, and she hopped up on the edge of his prison and looked down into his eyes. “You mean Thanksgiving? Wow, Indians. And Angel.” She scrunched up a brow as if trying to remember something and then slid inside the tub and ended up shockingly in his lap and on his semi-erect cock. Spike was too shocked to react. As her arms curled around his neck and she shifted in his tub to be more comfy against his hardened appendages, he was mesmerised by the wry amusement that flashed within the green.

“How about I take the bear and kill the Indians, and you can make pumpkin pie?” She was back to the beaming, her happiness a mystery to him despite the promise of sweets.

“There’s a bear? How’d you get a bear?”

And she giggled, tapped her nose and whispered, “It’s a secret,” before devouring his lips in a heated kiss.

Spike was moving swiftly from one shock to another, but his body didn’t seem to have a problem that the woman whose blood he wanted to paint the finest mural with was pashing him within an inch of his unlife.

He was just starting to get into it, starting to think this having intimacy with the Slayer wasn’t too bad a thing to have in secret, when it was over. Gone. But still he had warm flesh curled up in his lap with her soft hair and head tucked up under his chin.

“I’m still going to kill you.” But his attempt at a snarl seemed to come out a hell of a lot huskier than he’d been going for. She shifted in his lap and he felt the side of his cock rub almost painfully against denim, tearing a whimper from his throat even as his eyes crossed. He came to and found her staring at him in wonder, catching his eyes in an unwavering gaze that seemed to convey some deep emotion, and it wasn’t of the hating variety.

“Not unless I kill you first,” the Slayer whispered back, and then she was moving closer, fraction by fraction as she refused to surrender the look that was holding him in thrall. Her lips enclosed his lower one and she sucked hard, moaning against the flesh as her hand fell to his chest and she gently stroked down to a nipple.

Then there was tongue and Spike felt like his mind had imploded, this display of the most exquisite sweetness too much for his tired brain to withstand. She tasted so delicious and he struggled to get a hand on her, swearing mentally at the chains that held him captive and away from exploring her flesh. Just as he managed to get one hand under her shirt, she pulled away.

“I can make this better, Spike. I promise. It’s not as if you haven’t been a temporary white hat before. I know you can be good. I’ve seen it. Please, just give me a chance.” She stopped and just watched him while she waited, obviously holding breath while he came down from the feel of her lips.

It took several seconds for the words to kick in and he almost roared in fury. His body jerked and he sent her clear across the tub, petty happiness soaring through him when she banged her hip on the pipes.

“You think you can train me like some dog?” He vamped out and snarled at her. “This is what I am, baby. I’m a killer, and I love it. I love to see you stupid humans scream in terror, try to get away while my fangs are in your throats and the jig is more than bleeding up. You’re off your bird if you think one act of desperation will lead to massive stupidity on my part.”

He stood and loomed over her menacingly, this time finding joy in her tears as she shrunk back in the other end of the tub.

“You could flop your pussy in my face right now and I’ll do nothing but use what you offer. I don’t know what you think this lust is going to lead to, but I won’t be your willing slave. Now get the hell out.”

She shuffled out of the tub and bathroom as if hell were riding her tail, tears streaming down her cheeks. She stopped at the door and suddenly turned, anger glinting in place of the misery he’d wrought just seconds before. With determined strides she was back in front of him, her mouth set hard and determined.

“I obviously went about this all wrong. You’re a bonehead and you need it, don’t you? Need to fight for it. Well fine. You’re chipped and useless and we’ll fight. May the best m…woman win.” And she slugged him hard on the jaw, nearly dislocating it as it decided bravely to stay connected to his skeleton.

Spike blinked in surprise, but she was gone. Teenage petulance leaving behind a delicious flavour.

Right then, would be possible to say that that didn’t quite go to plan. If he’d bothered to shut his mouth for five so he could actually make one. Oh well, he had the Slayer pissed off at him rather than sending him those mushy looks that turned his insides. It couldn’t get any better.

As he settled back into his temporary prison, he couldn’t help that little voice piping up and remind him that the turning of his stomach wasn’t exactly in a way that had made him sick.

He was buggered.

Chapter Ten

Spike knew he’d hit pay dirt when he’d graduated from the bathroom to the living room. The incompetent idiots actually thought this rope could hold him to the chair, like he was some kind of William the Bloody Lightweight or something. His brow furrowed as a sudden horrifying thought hit him. He hadn’t really tested that. Maybe the soldiers had taken his strength away too. Flexing his now rapidly healing body, his muscular arms stretched the ropes and, as it was about to give he stopped and smirked in satisfied relief.

Little snippets had been circulating all day so he knew enough to work out this might just be the chance when he could get away from the beyond annoying bunch. He could admit, though, that their many little research sessions was shooting out information he just couldn’t work out how they knew. How was it they were expecting drama in the form of Peaches and vengeful ghosty Indians with a side of roast turkey and pumpkin pie? Was almost like they had their own little Dru on hand, but with a lot less nut in her case.

Not that it mattered, because Spike had a plan. And as long as they all ignored him, or if he could get the Slayer to trust him, there was no way he could balls this one up. He’d be free by day’s end and could offer up his own little Thanksgiving that he cut these interfering little brats down to size and he was once again a free vamp. He felt so confident he couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face.

“Hey Slayer, your little feast is smellin’ delicious, pet. Gimme a preview.”

She ducked out from around the kitchen and gave him a fiery look, her face flushed from his innuendo as well as her vicious slaughter of the food.

“Cut it out, Spike. Stop being a pig.” But she couldn’t stop the little girlish giggle that a day of celebration brought to her.

He checked her out lewdly, thinking to himself how easy it was going to be to snuggle up to her and fool the lot of them.

“I could help you in there, you know. Stir a little pudding. Wrap a little bird.” The rapid thump of her blood suddenly thundering through her veins had him give himself a mental high five and he just bided his time. He’d have her any minute now. Have her panting to get these ropes off him and rubbing her hard little body all over his eager bits. He couldn’t have thought of a better distraction if he’d tried. All her goody two shoes friends would be gaping while he lavished her with his special Spike brand of lovin’ and he’d aim his way to his biggest conquest yet. Bagging his third Slayer and escaping the clutches of a bunch of misfits.

“You…you really want to help?” she asked him, her little voice just dripping in the hopeful.

“Nothin’ else better to do.” He wiggled his hips in the chair, enjoying beyond his expectations the embarrassed little flushes that spread across her cheeks. His dirty mind started mapping out other parts of her delightful flesh he could maybe find that rash of crimson before he was startled by her hesitant steps towards him.

“I could let you go, Spike. I mean, I want to let you go…but you do know there’s no point going anywhere, right? You’re vulnerable out there, and I know you are angry with me for allowing that to happen to you in the first place, but I’m here to help you now. If you leave the commandos will catch you again. I don’t want them to have you back, so please just trust I’m trying to do the right thing for you.”

Her little speech made his jaw tick and Spike struggled hard to keep a hold of his temper or that foolproof plan was going to die a very cruel death. For it to work, they all had to believe he was coming around to the Slayer’s bizarre attraction to him. He could puke his guts up later for the things he would have to do. For now he was going to have to enjoy every little second of her presence. He intentionally blocked out the ridiculously annoying part of his William side that forced him to acknowledge that it wouldn’t be as difficult as he was making out.

Whatever.

She moved a little closer and he could smell the variety of foods she’d been mixing it up with in the kitchen. It really suited her, this earth mix of veges and meat. Made him bloody hungry too, and not for blood. He quickly banished the visions that had him pounding into her hard while she lay back on the dining table, her pretty little preparations pushed unceremoniously to the floor. It wasn’t right, and no way was he going to get sucked that far into this little delusion of hers. Even if she had made it more than obvious how much she would love to have his sexy bod.

“Now, Xander will be here any minute and he’s not gonna be totally with the healthy, so don’t bug him, okay. This is going to be a seriously long day, and I’ve already managed to successfully avoid one of Angel’s visits.” There was another one of those giggles that should have made Spike want to rip his ears off, but instead he found himself leaning forward, listening to her, smelling her, and being disturbed with how much he enjoyed it.

Her warm hands brushed over his as she put her arms around him and watched every emotion in his eyes as she loosened the knot. Her torso ran the length of his shins and he felt a need to part his legs and draw her in closer to his crotch. It was instinct, and he didn’t even attempt to move as she wiggled against his tight jeans, her breasts now pushed into his black t-shirt just above his abs. Bloody hell he felt hard, and Jesus he ached. Maybe that dining table scenario wasn’t so out of the question after all. A bloke would be stupid to knock back something so warm and inviting. Even if he was going to slit her throat when the time came.

Buffy was exhausted. It had been a beyond tiring day, what with the hiding and protecting of people that either were not wanting to be seen, and those that would have their heads off if they were found. Who knew that protecting the not so innocent—at least in the eyes of the natives—could be such hungry, hot work. At least Buffy could thank the PTB for some very nice and squishy vampire to lighten her load. Or at least, some time in the future when he’d forgiven her. She wasn’t a fool. A little further on the naïve side than she would obviously like, but she knew Spike. And she knew Spike was up to something. Still, what could he do? She’d let him have his fantasies and hopefully get some yummy smoochies in the meantime.

As she finally managed to undo the knot that held Spike rather symbolically—rather than practically—to the chair, Buffy let her hands grasp hold of his, smoothing her thumb over his flesh in a way that made her whole body tingle. She threaded her fingers between his and squeezed, letting her eyelids drop closed in building fatigue and heightened desire as her forehead hit his chest with a soft thump. God, the black fabric of his tee was soft. He must use fabric softener, one of the more expensive brands. He smelled divine, all softly flowery against pure essence of man.

Buffy could hear stuff happening in the background, but she felt way too happy to see what was going on. She knew she was tickling his chest with her nose as she slowly drifted up to dazedly taste his lips again. So smooth and cool and soft and she was going to die if he didn’t start returning some of her feeling soon. He felt so good and Buffy felt her heart expand more and more for this vamp who had without a glance stolen it right from out of her chest. She could never have expected Angel to be so thoroughly in her past, and she kneeled helplessly thanking the PTB for making her see the light before this situation eventuated and caused her four years of anguish and disappointment.

Not once did Buffy truly think Spike wouldn’t fall in love with her. His feelings in the dream were too real, too raw to be something that was impossible to eventuate. And yeah, she might have shifted the development just a little, but she couldn’t have completely mucked up destiny, could she?

A little desperation crept into the kiss and she wound nervous fingers in his hair, holding him to her despite no attempts yet to pull away. Her other hand was still caught in his, softly soothing each other as a storm of something swept them both away. His tongue meeting hers was like the biggest relief, soothing her greatest agony. It was real; he had to feel something for her to kiss her like this.

Sharp human teeth nibbled at her bottom lip and she whimpered against him, wishing the voices she could hear would just change realities and be somewhere else. Finally she was getting what she wanted and it felt too amazing to be ever interrupted. Which of course meant it had to be.

“Ahem, Buffy? S-sorry to er, disturb you, but Xander is here with his diseases.” Giles looked away from the moaning pair and waited till reality came back to them, shifting feet as he rather desperately searched for something interesting to look at.

Buffy reached that reality rather rudely as Spike spluttered his hilarity in her face.

“Slayer said he was gonna be sickly; didn’t mention diseases. Ooh, what kind? Leprosy? Are all his bits going to fall off? See, you lot should ‘ave let me drain the whelp before he became all useless. Oh wait, he always was. What I meant was, before he became all spotty and sweaty. Oh oh, wait…I mean—“

“Shut it… Spike,” came the disjointed and weak defense from his position on the couch, a very pasty and deathly pale Xander taking refuge under a little blanket with his strange sex-fixated girlfriend by his side.

Buffy got to her feet, disappointment showing on her face as she turned from Spike and rushed to Xander.

“No need to panic. Remember? We know how to cure this and you’ll be all with the better in time for my famous pumpkin pie.” Buffy smiled her confidence, her former weariness miraculously banished by the invigorating effects of Spike’s kiss.

“That’s…great, Buff. How many times have you…made that pie again?”

The smile slipped fractionally, and as much as he might be healed within a few hours, his sickness now was acute and he deserved to be lied to. In the name of friendship.

“Oh tons and tons. It’s my very best dish. You just wait and see.” She was on her feet and quickly fussing all the way back to the kitchen, barely glancing at Spike as he followed her and wrapped his arms around her waist, smirking into her hair as she ignored him yet allowed her body to jiggle deliciously against his as she whipped the hell out of her bowl of condensed milk. Was enough to make a bloke humiliate himself in his pants. Firm breasts rubbed against his arms and he felt himself tense, doing his own little provocative dance. His erect cock prodded her hard as he positioned himself between the little valley of her legs.

He caught his hand just as he prepared to explore other sensitive spots, feeling hopeful when he saw the string. She’d strapped the turkey and there was left over twine. Perfect. While Buffy was distracted, eyes closed against his probing length and rhythmic stroking, he pocketed the sting in the back pocket of his jeans. He might need his duster for more of the little goodies he could purloin in this place, but all of it could be good in his escape plan, leaving behind a stretch of bodies annoyingly missing his very distinctive puncture marks, but dead nevertheless.

The Slayer never noticed, instead she put her bowl down carefully on the bench and turned to wrap herself around him, feeling the loss of control as she pulled his head back to hers.

Spike felt himself giving in to the hypnotic stroke of her tongue, but not before he snapped up the stray box of matches on the counter behind her. He had one eye openly fixed on the large butcher’s knife too, but would definitely be needing the cover of smooth leather to get that little beauty out from under her nose. As he finally closed his eyes and let himself admit that this thing between them wasn’t as emotionless as he liked to believe, all hell broke loose.

And seemingly before he even blinked, there was a bloody bear.

Thanksgiving had denigrated into a gigglepalooza with the girls, each burst following one of Xander’s little retellings.

“You made a bear. Undo it. Undo it.” The table erupted with laughter while Spike glowered from behind his ropes once again, tighter than the last time and pinching like a bitch.

“That’s the way, Whelp. Laugh it up. Just you watch your back, ‘cause one day ole Spike is gonna have one helluva day.”

“What? With your little pieces of string and your matches? You would have been a big puddle of Spikey goo on the floor before you could even charge us with the knife.” Xander sat back and speared another slab of turkey, stuffing his mouth full and grossed everyone with his grin around the blockage.

Buffy kept her head down, keeping the amusement to herself so she didn’t upset Spike anymore. She had to give him credit. His attempt to take them down in the middle of the Chumash invasion was quite ingenuous, if he’d taken into account that he couldn’t hurt them with anything, not just his fangs. He was all consumed with the sullen now, and Buffy just ached to lean over and hug him. He looked so cute, like a little boy who’d had his favourite teddy shelved for bad behaviour.

Buffy was sitting to his left, her hands itching to feel him up under the table, and she would’ve, if she knew for sure he wouldn’t yell at her. Yelping would be fine, though. She could scratch him behind the…right, “Peas anyone?” The bowl of peas was passed back and forth, nice and mushy just like Giles proclaimed to like them.

Spike licked his lips as he saw the bowl land back on the table in front of him. Apparently he was to be punished with starvation while sitting in front of a table groaning with food. It wasn’t bleeding fair. The cruel lot had even put a plate down at his seat, occasionally ribbing him about having to eat like the pig the Slayer always had claimed him to be.

“Do you want me to get you something to eat?” Buffy whispered in his ear, and despite the yearning he had for one spoonful of those mushy peas, it was a dish much more tasty that first flickered in his mind. He was pretty sure his leer did the trick as Buffy’s cheeks fired up and she dropped her eyes to her own plate.

“Thanks, pet,” he replied as he made the decision to take it easy on her as well as himself. “I’d love some peas and gravy. Bit o’ mash would be tops, too.”

He watched in fascination as the tiny girl he’d been aching to kill for so long served him up a huge dollop of mash and peas, and then covered with a healthy dose of gravy. It warmed him up in the way Dru always had when she took such pains to gift him with some special human to feed on. It was like she actually cared.

“Would I be pushin’ it if I asked for some blood in that, and then for you to mix it all up together?”

Buffy merely grinned and gave him a quick kiss before almost skipping to the kitchen. Spike nearly felt his dead heart skip beats as she bounced back with a mug half-filled with heated blood. Buffy remained standing as she poured the blood on his dish, trying to keep the activity mostly hidden from the other diners who were conspicuously ignoring the both of them. She stirred it all together and Spike could feel himself salivating and eager to tuck in. Right up until he noticed he was still tied up.

Just as he sighed in defeat—knowing they weren’t going to let him go so soon after his failed attempt to kill them all and run to safety—she shifted her chair closer, and took the fork in her hand. Something unfamiliar shifted in his gut—and in his groin too, but that one he recognised—and he watched her with awe in his expression as the tongs of the fork gently poked at his lips.

He opened up and took in her offering, gladly ignoring all the gagging noises from the other end of the table.

“Now Xander, I think it’s cute. They obviously will be having orgasms by the end of the night.” Anya smiled, then grimaced as a projectile pea flew into her face. “Fine, I was only trying to be supportive. You didn’t have to spit in my face.” She sat back and huffed in her seat, throwing her napkin onto her empty plate as Xander’s focus shifted from the events at the end of the table and back to making his girlfriend feel all secure in his…well, passion again.

Spike remained oblivious to it all, just watching this girl who had barged in and ruined all his plans since he first rolled into this dead end town. Oblivious to all but one word, and as it rolled around in his brain he could feel his body react to it and strain towards the Slayer.

Orgasm.

It was just what he needed, and even though he was still balking at the possibility that he felt kind of alright about getting them from the little blonde with more power in her small frame than she knew what to do with, he was left feeling taut and pained as he waited for such an eventuality.

He could think of only one option. She seemed pretty keen on him for reasons he had no clue at fathoming, so he’d take advantage while the offer was there. Who knew where it could lead to? An accidental draining certainly wouldn’t be amiss.

With new determination, Spike gulped each forkful of food she brought to his lips, staring at her and seducing her with his eyes. He knew they were pretty. Dru had harped on it for enough years, and even Angelus and Darla had made the odd comment here and there. So, while he couldn’t give a piss about learning how to thrall, this bird was already hanging off him with no effort, so he knew he could entice her to anything with the softness of his eyes.

He was finished, his stomach settled with a little bit of blood and his raging hard on craving another kind of feed. He could feel the heat of her body without even touching her and he couldn’t wait to get out of this chair and get her alone.

“Right. Think I’m ready for the telly again now, Slayer. Best you get me in there and chained up in the tub again.” Spike didn’t know if she just wanted to be finished with the meal or if she saw that little glint in his eye that promised her some touching, but she was up and releasing him from the ropes before he could wrap his head around it.

Their pace to the bathroom was far from leisurely, their audience left eyes boggling as they disappeared and the lock clicked in place.

Buffy’s back hit the door as Spike leaned over her, his now free hands fisted in her hair. They both remained still, Buffy barely breathing though inwardly laughing as Xander spluttered and begged for someone to help Buffy with the versatile beast that had her trapped in the bathroom.

“Oh for goodness sakes, Xander. You are surely old enough to know that Spike has taken her in there so they can have some hot and raunchy sex. Would you rather they knocked everything off the table and had orgasms right here in front of you?”

The abrupt fit of choking was enough of an answer and Spike chuckled as he buried his face in her neck, quickly losing himself as he smelt his previous claim on her skin. He felt the rise of his demon and a very low but possessive growl was ripped from his throat and Buffy shuddered against him.

“You know I’m going to eat you,” Spike whispered, his voice husky as the coolness of his breath rustled her hair.

In one jarring twist his own back slammed into the door, the overloud announcement of ‘boisterous sex’ the last thing he heard from the other room before her lips were on his and her hands were all over his body, seeking out places an innocent girl with only Angel experience should never boldly go.

Seconds ticked by against the swirling frenzy of her tongue against his own and Spike was forgetting his mission, finding his own hands on a search and mark mission of her more easily accessible parts. He’d just pulled the top over her head, gotten some button snagged in her hair and pulled more than a few strands out as he battled to pull it totally free of her body, when the inevitable happened.

The knock was dull against the door as it bounced against his spine. Groaning loudly he dived on Buffy’s throat, knowing he was running out of time and if he didn’t at least sink in his fangs he was going to explode from pent up lust. His fangs slid in nicely, and before he could even finish flinching from the expected pain, he could hear Buffy’s squeaking inquiry to whoever was on the other side.

“B-Buffy? I, really kinda need to use the bathroom,” Willow called through the door, her voice kind of odd as she waited for the vamp’s insulting invective for her interrupting something that was obviously meant to be private.

Buffy was still as a statue, ever wary that she had fangs in her throat but telling herself that he wasn’t flinching in pain, so had no intention of hurting her.

“Just a minute, Will. Be right out.”

The growl at her throat seemed to conflict with her promise, but instead of getting more intensely terrified that Spike was about to kill her, Buffy felt a warm glow almost bursting through her body and ripping her sense apart. “Oh God.”

He sucked at the blood flowing slowly into his mouth and the tension coiled tighter in his body. Frantically he undid his zipper and urged Buffy’s hand to hold him, showing her how to squeeze and stroke him in rhythm to his shallow sucks.

They both moaned loudly and bucked against the door, completely lost to those that they’d left on the other side. Before she knew it, Buffy felt his cool fingers against her, not even knowing when it was he managed to undo her own slacks. It didn’t matter because he was inside her, fingers and fangs teasing and inflaming, and as maddeningly insane as it was, holy God she was going to pass out with pleasure.

Buffy screamed, an ear piercing testimony to Spike’s skill as he lapped at her throat, soothing the mark even as he spurted in her hand. The haze that covered them lingered, feeling like the build-up to release had yet to be reached until with slow and steady breaths they came back to reality, Buffy euphoric while Spike stared at her in horror, small droplets of her blood still lingering on his lips.

And then Spike pulled abruptly away, tucked himself back in and quickly righted his pants, staring at the bare glimpse of her pussy until she blushed and followed suit. Buffy rushed over to the basin to wash her hands, pat cold water on her face and hope for the best. She seriously doubted that their activities had been missed by those eavesdropping outside. She was suddenly extremely keen to leave the cleaning up till tomorrow and get home to her dorm.

Buffy refused to look at him as she flung the door open, smiling a humiliated and uncomfortable smile at her friend as she moved from the doorway and left the flat.

Fingers at her throat and tears in her eyes, Buffy contemplated the beautiful passion mixed with Spike’s horror and disgust.

And found her way back to her dorm with a vision severely blurred.

Buffy was sizzling; anticipation making her completely crazy. God, she’d been busy. Recognising the time for what it was and making sure everything was prepared, then acting suitably upset for her friend while she wanted to jump the moon in delirious excitement.

So, it was kind of freakish that she had these conversations with her friends and then jumped afterwards with an almost intimidating sense of déjà vu, but still, so much was going the same way and Buffy was ecstatic with the hindsight that now came with the remarks. It was like, patrol with Willow. Pre-days when she had no clue of the way her life would travel, she had the truth right under her nose, wafting heavily with the rightness that pointed out the wrongness that was Riley, only she was too blinkered to pay herself any attention.

She’d been so with the right; intensity and passion with Riley had been doomed from the start. There could be no fire in sedate friendly picnics. He never got her blood pumping with the fight. She needed what came with fighting Spike. It was almost like it was pre-ordained only she was too stupid to go along with the Higher Powers that knew best. They must have been so frustrated with her whole ‘normal’ phase. And the damage she’d done to Riley. It was so of the unnecessary when she had sublime hotness and passion in easy grasp. Yep, love was all about the pain and fighting…but the good stuff was triple the normalness of a picnic at Rhode’s Field.

So, the tiny struggle Buffy had had about whether to warn her friends about what was about to happen or to leave it to pan out, came much too easily after thinking about Spike and his expertise in the bathroom over Thanksgiving. He’d pretty much ignored her since, never getting close enough to do anything but throw threats of killing her way. It made Buffy scowl at him, but grin inwardly at how cute he truly was. And almost pant at the opportunity she knew was coming up.

Her guilt over using Willow’s pain was short-lived. Thoughts of how Willow would tear her out of Heaven the first chance she got sort of blinding her to the other girl’s pain. True, she’d been kinda blind to it anyway, but still…vampire goodness in the way of wedding rings.

Buffy grimaced in memory of the ugly skull ring she was going to have to accept momentarily, then let herself dream happily over the matching gold band set she’d kept with her Justice of the Peace who was on a handy standby, papers and all organised and made legal, despite a few loops in the proceedings.

She’d been lying in bed for a while, way too excited to sleep even though she’d pretended for much longer than she thought she could stand. The second after Willow had gathered her things and tiptoed out of their room and to the bathroom, Buffy was out of bed and spinning with silent squeals of excitement. It was really happening, and if she played her cards right, by the end of the day she’d be Mrs. The Bloody with a very non-Mr Big Pile of Dust. She was so on board with the shady wedding and the consummation of said union. She itched and ached and burned with so much excitement it was all she could do to hold in the screams.

Buffy was in mid-jump when a little click from down the hall alerted her to sudden Willow invasion and she barely shot back into her bed in time, trying to calm her breathing enough that she didn’t make her friend aware that she was awake and making sure it all went off with every hitch it was meant to.

As Willow settled miserably back in her bed—Buffy’s guilt dimming her grin just a little—the blonde settled comfortably into oncoming sleep and dreams of the ‘come true’ variety.

And waited for the games to begin.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

It was just SO hard to keep the anticipation out of her voice while Buffy attempted to commiserate with mopey Willow. When the phone finally rang to say Spike had escaped, Buffy could barely stop long enough to toss her excuses at her friend. She knew it was harsh, but Wills was better for it all in the end. They all loved Tara, Will found out vital information about herself, and everything was all hunkey dorey except for Buffy and her Spike lovin’.


That squeal she’d been holding in since Willow disappeared to do her spell the night before? Was so let out when she literally bumped into Spike standing in the middle of campus, his whole face looking like he’d swallowed several beetles and he was just as confused by how they got into his mouth in the first place.

“Spike,” she shouted, launching all five feet three inches of herself into his more than capable arms. Buffy’s legs wound around his waist and she took no time to claim his lips, despite the spluttering protests and efforts to get her off him without making his chip fire.

“Bloody hell. Can’t a vamp cop a break?”

She slapped an enthusiastic hand over his mouth and almost growled her command he shut up, looking rapidly around them to make sure no one heard him before smacking her lips back to his, squeezing him between her legs so that he almost dropped to his knees, eyes threatening to pop out of his face.

“So, whatcha doin’?”

He gave her one of his incredulous looks and abruptly dropped her to the grass. Her butt hit the ground hard and she whimpered as she stood and dusted the debris off her olive pants.

“Are you completely daft? I’m…escaping?” He had started out so furious, finishing up in that sweet confused little voice he had when he just had no clue.

Buffy grinned happily and shook her golden locks as she linked her arm in his and began to walk him back to Giles’s, so buoyed up by her impending nuptials. His proposal was just going to be the most romantic thing that had ever happened to her.

“Not so with the much. You looked kinda lost.” She said it in a way that conveyed how much she was not caring if he was concerned that he was lost, and so excited that he was where he was…namely at the end of her arm.

“You know that they have a cell on hold for you at the funny farm, Slayer.”

“Is it right next to Dru’s?”

She backed off at his growl and instead attempted to distract him.

“So, it’s such a pretty night. See all those stars all twinkly and oblivious?”

He dragged her to a stop and just watched the light on her face, marvelling at her very obvious happiness at being in his presence. He’d tried so hard to forget the things she’d said when she didn’t know he was hiding behind trees and could hear her every word. She’d seemed to know his heart so well, better than a Slayer possibly could without spending some quiet time with him. And that was something they had never gotten around to.

They’d been made to fight each other. To punch, kick, hit, bite and maim. He thrived on the chase, the hunt. Thrived on his hobbies, the ones that meant the Slayer was food and a worthy challenge, not someone he wanted to shag into the middle of next week and every week beyond that.

But the thing was, she had known. She’d been acting bizarre since the second he came across her that day he’d finally found the answer to all his Slayer-sized problems. The day she’d seduced invincibility right off his finger. Since then he hadn’t been able to get rid of the aggravation of her moon-eyes and arousing fragrance. And now she’d made sure he was helpless and at her mercy. He was buggered if he should be proud of her ingenuity, or completely brassed off that she’d destroyed his unlife.

Still, he couldn’t go past the look of wonder on her face as she stared straight into him.

“You really see me, don’t you, pet?” It was incredible to think that she could, and yet he knew that she did. Felt it inside every time he thought to do violence against her and hers.

And then he felt his body shudder as she raised a shaky hand and cupped the side of his face. The Slayer was looking at him with such longing and happiness that he almost gasped. It was so new, unheard of in his world that a human, and an enemy no less, could have this much grasp of who and what he was. It scared the piss out of him.

“I really see you, Spike.” And her lips closed over his once again, the soft lushness making him melt beyond any expectation he’d come to have.

Her voice had been so sincere, so full of truth and he just couldn’t believe that he had seemingly found this acceptance in someone he’d been raised to hate and kill. That he still planned to kill, and preferably in a blood draining kind of way, because her blood was delicious and made him forget his own mind.

There was nothing hard in her embrace this time. She was all soft, stroking his hair at the nape of his neck in a soothing, hypnotic fashion and he thought he could finally see whatever vision could explain her fixation with him. Didn’t understand it, but could maybe see what it was for her. And so easily lost track of time.

He didn’t even question the urge that had him on one knee, running his hands nervously through his hair as he whipped off his silver skull ring and offered it to her.

“It's just so sudden. I don't know what to say.” Buffy admired the ring and then suddenly looked at him fearfully, uncertainty shining in her eyes. “I mean, you are asking me to marry you, right?”

She sounded so hopeful, so close to having her heart broken if he wasn’t serious that he almost gushed like prat-like William.

“Just say yes, and make me the happiest man on earth.” And he couldn’t stop smiling, feeling it all course through him and making him so blindingly happy for the first time he could ever remember.

He loved this woman; loved her faults, her strengths, loved that she was his enemy yet could see so deep inside him that she could find love. He just couldn’t imagine any more of his unlife without her. She was simply essential. Dru had known it, had pushed him into returning and getting that little bit closer to the reality of his heart.

It was completely Buffy-shaped. He was a vamp in love and he would devote every second he had left on this earth to making his woman happy, even if it killed him.

“Oh, Spike! Of course it's yes!” She jammed the ring on her finger, frowned when it slid right off again, and stubbornly pushed it back and closed her fist to hold it in place.

“Oh.” He almost collapsed with the word, so relieved that poncy William wasn’t going to be left alone and foolish this time. William the Bloody was getting married and a match more worthy he’d never find. She was his love, his life, and his forever.

They collapsed in a tangle of euphoria, arms wrapped tight around each other as they found refuge in their happiness, not caring who looked on, who saw their display and became dejected with sadness and futility.

He was marrying the Slayer. Spike and Buffy. Buffy and Spike.

Nothing had ever been more perfect.

Buffy could feel everything blur as the words moved through her. “I do.” It was so simplistic and yet it capped off every dream she could have ever spent time asleep for. God, she loved him so much. Her body ached for him in ways she shouldn’t be able to imagine, but looking into his eyes remnants of memories that hadn’t yet occurred took her breath away.



She knew him. Knew his past and his future with equal veracity. She’d been showered with a truth that could make her world so much brighter, despite the required future in the dark. She could map his body, show her devotion to every inch of him and not hurt him. Not ever again would she hurt such a man that could love her so deeply. So ultimately.



The way he breathed his own oath, the way he sucked her in with that awed look was enough to completely win her heart and Buffy knew she could never let this go. Could never surrender her future to moments without him if it meant more lies.



They shared the pleasure of claiming the other with a ring, names and love engraved as a testament to the future she had ensured. Buffy was teetering on a giddy high, both wanting to rush out and show her friends what she had done, who she was now joined with in life, and yet wanting desperately to experience finally all that pleasure the Powers had assured her was there for her if she chose wisely.



This time she had, and the blush that settled over her skin with his first kiss as her husband made up her mind. Lovin’ first, then announcement second. Surely her friends could understand waiting for knowledge of something this big. She was so madly consumed with love that absolutely nothing could stand in the way of this moment.



It was that second when it was all settled, when it was all acknowledged that they meant the world to each other that she whispered their destination in his ear. Her body shivered when he growled lustily into her neck and she couldn’t help but drag him through the night and to his car. It was an ugly beast of a guy car, but if it got her where she needed to go, who was she to complain?



For the first time that Buffy could remember, she was beyond happy that her mother was out of town on business. The honeymoon could begin in the bed that she’d never given him permission to sleep upon. Which of course didn’t mean that he never would have in that diverted future, only that she had been pushed into agreeing rather than making the offer out of want. From her heart.



Spike hadn’t stopped staring at her with such an intense look of love since she had announced a way they could get married immediately. Buffy and Spike felt thoroughly confused as to why she had rings and a Justice of the Peace already waiting; they just smiled and agreed it was obviously sanctioned by something much greater than they were and raced off to keep a wedding date before they could be charged to wait.



They hadn’t stopped fawning over each other through the ceremony, Spike so intoxicated by his love’s spirit and enthusiasm that he could barely concentrate on anything but the scent of her hair or the need to feel her body clasped tightly to his.



“I’m so happy,” she said over and over again through the ceremony and in his car, snuggled up under his arm while she delivered loving kisses to his chin and his lips whenever the lights allowed.



And so was he. There was something that had always tingled when he was around this girl, something other than the signature that warned him of enemy. He was a fool for thinking all this time he could kill her and be happy. It was more than obvious that he was meant to dust in this girl’s arms and be buggered if she was human and the Slayer to boot.



Spike nearly keeled over in amazement when his wife shyly led him to her bedroom. His wife. He couldn’t wipe the sappy grin off his face. It felt like he’d consumed a gutful of sugar and he had never acted this happy, this carefree and delirious with the knowledge his love was for once reciprocated. Well, maybe once when his mum had been so effusive in her love for his work. Even if it was all rot and she was suffering a mother’s misguided love.



This was different. This was a woman taking him as her mate for life, binding herself tightly to him in name as she asked him to bind her to him in body. He should have been shamed with the ease of how fast he jumped her. Should have been, but couldn’t get past the pleasure that just being near her brought to him.



And now he was on that little ledge before he consummated his love with the woman of his dreams and he knew that one little step would make him a man almost completely debilitated with happiness. It felt almost shocking that this kind of bliss could even be possible. Could be reachable for the likes of him. But his fingers had more than flicked over it and now he wanted to grab hold tight with his whole hand.



When he looked at Buffy he saw such goodness and soul, felt such a need to make her happy and safe that he felt tears forming with his fear of failure. She was the star that had guided him through his unlife for the past two years, only he had never been willing to give her the credit, only the pain. It had to stop. Now that she was his wife, he would ensure that she never was hurt by his hand again.



Spike couldn’t help but watch disbelievingly as Buffy kept her eyes in his and began to unbutton her top. It was a very formal white satin blouse with a large pointed collar, and it was so shiny and beautiful he was almost William-like in wanting her to leave it on. But Spike wanted to touch her, finally explore the promise of her body and embed himself completely in her heart. He knew it was time for them to join as husband and wife and now the hesitation was gone.



While he’d been ruminating the virtues of her virginal looking wedding wear, she’d managed to take it off and drape it over her vanity chair. She was breathtaking and Spike couldn’t help the shake in his hand as he reached to touch the bared flesh of her bronzed shoulder, tracing a finger along the strap of her bra and sucking in breath as he pulled one of them down and exposed the outer curve of one breast.



Buffy gasped and was overwhelmed with tears of happiness as the sensation of his cool finger drifted over her skin. When his thumb began a slow rub over her nipple, a deep fire curled outward from her belly to inflame her whole body. The moment, the day, nothing had been less than perfect and Buffy was so happy she felt like screaming it to the world. If she didn’t want to feel him naked with her so badly, she’d run all the way to Giles’ screaming her news and hugging all her friends.



The waiting had already taken too much time, too much of her life, and Buffy found quickly that she had no patience remaining. She wasn’t going to stand there and swap soppy lovey expressions with her man while she had a bed waiting for them to occupy. That bed deserved to be rumpled and writhed on and the smell of sex to infiltrate her virgin sheets.



When it seemed like Spike had stalled with that one sensual move and got caught in looking at her wondrously, Buffy decided enough was enough and she wasn’t called Action Girl for nothing. In a precursor of things to come, she pounced. Grabbed Spike by the fly of his too tight black jeans, reefed the buttons from their holes and tossed him roughly to the bed.



Astonished blue eyes shot open and then a grin of pure seductive sex flashed across his lips. Heavy boots thunked to the floor and jeans followed. Within the blink of her eyes, he was naked and smirking, watching her in a predatory fashion he seemed to have patented as Buffy slipped her long lavender skirt over wiggling hips, breasts bobbling at his appreciative leer.



It was almost like they couldn’t speak, all desire for each other relayed through looks and touches that enflamed and quenched as they went. Buffy crawled up the bed over his body and stopped as her breasts rested teasingly on his chest and her legs straddling his. The insides of her thighs burned where his hairs tickled her flesh and Buffy felt no other option but to lean in for a kiss.



Sensation exploded behind their eyes as a meeting of their lips became sensory overload; heat and taste mixed within a need to be past the learning and well into the knowing. Buffy was beyond needing to explore, she needed the possession that came with giving herself to someone else to care and cherish and love.



Spike’s arms wound around her and her body was crushed full length against his, his feet and knees holding her tight and clasped together against his over-eager cock. He flipped her easily, and with the move he suddenly felt a small release of the pressure and he slowed the kiss down, relishing in her taste and softness as he became lost in this new reality.



He, William the bloody, Spike, was married, and he was about to ravish his wife in her girlish bedroom while her mum was busy in another city. It was both evil and succulent yet fraught with symbolic purpose. She was switching from an innocent girl to his eternal partner. He wondered if she knew what it would mean to grow old by his side.



His lips slipped from hers and explored her cheeks, finding wet eyelids to kiss and encourage his own tearful response to the moment. He linked hands with her, smoothing a finger over the polished gold band that proclaimed her his. It filled a deep gaping hole that he had spent a century ignoring the existence of. He’d talked himself into believing Dru had filled it; but now he knew it was a lie. His inner William needed this girl, this woman that lay beneath him crying happy tears that they were at last together.



This was a celebration and Spike felt himself getting all morbid, letting tears get in the way of a good first time shag with his lady and so to change the tone, he nipped at her neck. Growled in her ear and jerked a leg over his hip. While he bathed his marks on her throat, he rubbed his length against her slippery heat and nearly lost himself in the pleasure of almost reaching the prize. He rolled his eyes at the obvious git moment and began to push his swollen head against her folds, groaning as her opening spread little by little and engulfed him in volcanic fire.



Blood surged to his cock with a thunderous gallop and he felt the pulse like agony until he’d managed to slide all the way in. He could feel the stretch of her flesh, the pounding of her heartbeat against the spongy walls surrounding him and he forgot he didn’t need to breathe and began to gasp and suck in oxygen.



Buffy moaned and arched under him, letting her body strike shocks with the carnal contact. Her hands didn’t seem to understand what to do, ghosting over his hair and his shoulders to his hair again, pulling him back to her lips. It was so fitting that her first time with her husband would be so intense, surpass by huge heights the schoolgirl fantasy of Angel.



Angel. The name did nothing to her anymore. No flinching, no pinching at her heart. The space had been vacated entirely to make way for a love much larger than the piddly little scraps her first love could offer. And now that he was inside her and she was blurred to all but flashing white hair above her face and soft pink lips, Buffy felt a smile of wonder form on her lips.



“I love you,” she breathed against his mouth and then she showed him, lifting her hips in encouragement for him to move. For him to show her what it should always have been like, and to learn how it was always meant to be.



He could feel it. Her love was like a flame between them, so obvious and powerful and beautiful and it left him awed. There was nothing left for him to do but to show her, to fill her all the way up and show her what he could do to the woman he loved and cherished with all his heart.



He sunk in deep, feeling pain as her walls reacted and squeezed him lovingly. But he thrived on pain; found the most acute pleasure in that little twist of his length as he felt the itch and strain of his balls to unload.



The friction was killing him, her nails embedded in the skin of his back making his body shake in urgent restraint. There was almost nothing to be done to get her off. He could feel the swirl in her womb that was pushing hard to explode in release through her body. Felt it in depths he’d been unaware he had. Knew she was awaiting just one thing and that would be it for her and he could end the torment of this passion before he felt himself ripped to shreds.



“I love you, too. Sweetheart?”



Something flashed as she gripped him hard, her thighs holding him tight as the room swirled and he was caught in the middle of awareness and meltdown. His hips continued to pound into her as he looked around the room, looked underneath him and swore he was going to rip someone’s head off for this.



The bitch underneath him was the perfect choice.



“You manipulating little—”



And she flipped him, biting his lip hard as she bounced on his still turgid cock, rubbing her sensitive nipples over the smoothness of his chest. His hands didn’t know what to do, where to grab to toss her the hell off him, and yet he vamped, snarling and spitting obscenities that made her do the exact opposite of what he convinced himself he actually wanted.



She squealed at his imagery, bending lower and lower until his fangs were teased too much to stay out of her pain inducing throat. He pounced, blood shooting into his mouth as pain exploded simultaneously from his head and fluid from his cock.



Buffy screamed in an overload of ecstasy, embarrassment coming only when she noticed her open window and the throbbing of every cell of her body. Spike’s fangs slid easily from her neck and Buffy felt the beginnings of guilt. She had manipulated. Why didn’t she think of the impact of these things until it was too late?



And now he was dead. She’d killed him with unbelievable sex.



Buffy stayed in position, feeling the security of a semi-hard cock still placed inside her as she watched the unconsciousness that was her husband. And despite knowing she was bad and wrong and she didn’t deserve this happiness that swelled inside her, she couldn’t help but smile at her achievement.



He couldn’t reject her now. Could he?

Apparently that was a yes. He so could, and once he’d regained consciousness, he did. He took one look at the smugness that was her and threw her across the room, almost blacking out again from the pain that ripped through his skull like a bitch. Or a Buffy, seeing as how she was the epitome of one.

As Buffy lay in an uncoordinated mess on her bedroom floor, she could be the big person and acknowledge it. She couldn’t blame him for being angry. She had to have the control over everything, and no amount of thinking that he would eventually love her could make her get back to believing what she’d done wasn’t pretty much what he said. Manipulative. Just call her Buffy the Vampire Manipulator.

For the first time since sleeping three days away, Buffy could feel the cold hand of doom squeezing the breath from her lungs. She’d been so arrogant, so assuming in her unrepentant chase to have Spike be the vampire that he was going to be in two years time. How could she be so dense? How could she be so cruel?

Buffy stumbled to her feet, tears in her eyes as she gathered her clothes and put them back on, cringing slightly at the overly formal wear she’d purposely chosen for her wedding. On a broken sob she tore the ring off her finger, at last accepting that this was something she’d had no right to push.

It was beyond hard to let go. To back off and wait for those years of development and realisation before Spike could truly accept her. But at least she would be ready when he finally was. And hopefully he would still have their wedding rings to return to her finger when he did know how much he loved her.

“I know you don’t believe me, but I’m sorry. It was a spell. Willow cast it hoping she could make her heart stop hurting for Oz. I knew it was going to happen and instead of stopping her, instead of helping my friend through her grief, I took advantage of her and you. I am so sorry, Spike.” She placed the ring beside his naked thigh and ran from her room and the house, longing for somewhere darker than the night to let her hide and heal.

Spike watched her go and was so glad he shook. He couldn’t stop the fury from flooding his body, couldn’t stem the thoughts he had of killing her once and for all, and really couldn’t stop the little firing pulses that were frying his synapses with each violent thought he had.

It took a long time for him to calm enough to see the ring, and as he clenched it in his fist and prepared to fling it out her window, his own caught his eye and all those feelings he’d felt under the spell flooded through him until he was so confused his fist was just clinging to the metal, almost afraid to open and let it drop. What good would it do to toss it anyway? He could pawn it for smokes and booze. That’d teach her to bollocks up his unlife with bonds that were just flailing in stupidity.

He growled savagely as he gathered up each item of clothing, whimpering and snarling as he redressed and prepared to go out and hunt.

And then he slumped in defeat. She’d buggered up his entire life. Chip. What the fuck else was there left for him to do? Binge eat pig swill while he watched soapies on the watcher’s telly? Throw snarky comments at the Slayer’s pals and then run when they came to wallop the interfering vamp?

He was monumentally screwed, no matter which way he tried to turn it. Doomed to an existence on the middle-aged couch of non-demon life.

Hang about. She knew it was a spell? She knew it was going to happen and she didn’t stop her little redheaded friend in favour of having him as her husband? Spike frowned darkly as little snippets began to surge together. She knew things, like the attack of the Chumash and bears, knew he was going to go after Peaches for his ring, knew he would get this hardware in his head that would curtail his diet unfavourably, knew the extent of his love for the one he chose to bestow it on. He knew his heart better than his own family and she knew all the spots to touch to incite his passion.

She knew everything.

With a roar of outrage and a need to punish someone for keeping him in the shadows of the dark, he shoved arms through duster sleeves and slammed out of the house, striding with angry purpose to the Watcher’s house. Bloody good thing the wanker had a decent supply of booze because he was way beyond staying sober.

The whelp and his woman were there when he barged uninvited through the door.

“Where the bloody hell is your liquor, Rupes?” Spike stopped long enough to blink at the stack of glasses and one full/one empty bottle of scotch on the table; he rushed over, filled one to the brim and began to throw it back in his throat like it was water.

“Your bloody Slayer needs to be reprimanded.” His eyes flared yellow as he spat the angry demand out.

“You won’t find anyone here to disagree with you,” was the stuffy reply and Spike huffed, all the while refilling his glass. He saw heads nodding and he felt justified as he threw out suggestions.

“A good flogging wouldn’t hurt the bint. Teach her who can fool around with…” He stalled, wondering what exactly he was going to do and trying to figure out why she would do such a thing—to him or her friends. He would never have picked her for being such a bitch to the people she loved.

“She had demons chasing my poor Xander all night,” hiccupped Anya as she reached for her glass and tipped it to her lips, frowning when the smallest drop met her bottom lip. She turned the glass upside down and looked at it in surprise, making Spike laugh at how stupid drunk humans could be.

He skulled another glassful and sank into the buzz that was making him feel pleasantly relaxed as it fractionally dulled his need for violence.

Spike jumped when a very apologetic and nervous Willow came through the hall with a tray of cookies in her hand, placing them down on the table, careful to not nudge any glasses that were sitting there.

“Spike, I am so sorry—”

“Can it, Red. Had all the sorrys I can take for one day. I just want you to do a forgetting spell so I never have to think about this repulsive day for as long as I stay undusty. No way am I wanting to remember being in love with the Slayer. An’ what the bugger possessed you to will something so bleeding stupid in the first place?”

Another long swallow slid down his throat before Spike became aware of all the eyes staring at him in horrified fascination.

“Did you say love? ‘Cause from where I was being cursed, the mighty powerful Wills only wished you guys to get married.” Xander gulped at the furious blaze of amber that stared him down, grabbing for his protective glass of intoxicating goodness. If he was going to be eaten by Spike, he may as well be all with the not sober when it happened. Then he could claim defence of stupidity due to inebriation.

The anger slipped a little as Spike looked back and forth between the two sombre looking men and the empty bottle of booze began to click into focus.

“Balls. You blokes cursed too, huh? Who’d you lot fall in love with? Oh let me guess, you both rushed off to marry each other. Bet that went down well with the local Judge.” Spike snickered and offered another bottoms up to the pair, not quite ready to let go of that image in his head. It overshadowed the small sparks of pain that were still firing with his semi-violent thoughts about the Slayer.

“Er, no. No such luck,” Giles deadpanned as he grappled for something to look at, subconsciously backing up his own night of blindness. “It appears that Willow believes I don’t see.”

He stalled her as she started another flurry of apologies and pushed back the offered tray of cookies, smiling sadly as he endeavoured to explain.

“You were right, however. I have been blind on more than the odd occasion. I do tend to ignore what makes me feel uncomfortable.” Giles settled on his good standby glasses polishing and mentally made a deal with himself to be more insightful in the future.

“Oh,” answered Spike, quite mystified about the whole thing. “So, you were blind for the night? And the whelp had demons after him. Oi, how is that new?”

“Alas, you are right, Deadboy. I am a magnet for the demon love. But these wily fellers were out to tear the Xandman to shreds. Could have been a bit more specific with the will there, Wills.”

Willow hung her head in shame, then grabbed a handful of cookies and chewed around her desire to offer more apologies.

“So, while Xander was running like a girl from the demons, you were in love with Buffy?” Anya looked at Spike all bleary eyed from over imbibing and relief that the night’s ordeal was at an end. Her orgasms would be safe from demon interruptus tonight, thank D’Hoffryn. But her interest was more than piqued. She may be drunk but Anyanka had over a thousand years of picking up on vengeful wishes and this vamp was filled with something, and it wasn’t for being made to fall in love.

“Well, yeah,” he admitted rather hesitantly, wondering now which hole these Scoobies were going to bury him in.

“But I definitely only wished you both to get married. Trust me, when Buffy told us you were going to fall in love with her in the future, none of us were leaping up and down about it.” Willow’s bottom lip pouted, knowing she was in the wrong but slightly wounded that no one yet had let her off the hook about her pain over losing Oz.

“Hang on a bleeding minute. You wanted us bloody married and that’s just the by-product. What are you so surprised about?” He couldn’t help being defensive. After the night he’d had he could be excused for wanting to rip their heads off and kick them against a wall. He was willing to bet a couple of them were totally hollow.

“Nope. Ex-Vengeance demon here.” Willow’s cringe was easily ignored at this point as Anya set the group straight. “I’ve seen centuries of marriages that were based on many things, except love. If you loved her under that spell—and really Willow, I can completely see why Hoffy was so impressed—then you were absolutely in love with Buffy. It’s more than time you got used to it. We’ve all had to.” And her lips disappeared around another cookie, the so-called ex-demon moaning in pleasurable consumption. “These are really, really good, Willow. You can make guilt cookies whenever you like.”

Spike was slack-jawed as he contemplated what was said and then felt his ire rise once again. Flashes of words and feelings flew through his mind, connecting up with declarations from Dru, predictions that had made no sense but now nearly made his brain explode.

“Bloody NO. I wasn’t ready! Couldn’t you perverse bastards have given me the time to get to know it on my own? Now I’ve got that over my head and a Slayer that thinks she can push me into any situation that will benefit her because she’s got me by the short and curlies.”

“Ewww to that imagery. Pass me another cookie, honey.” Anya crunched her way through another of the sumptuous chocolate treats and waited for further explosion, only to have her eyes widen when she saw the shine of gold on his finger.

“YOU GOT MARRIED!” she yelled as she jumped to her feet, excitement having her pounce on the unsuspecting vampire and enveloping him in a warm welcoming hug. “Congratulations. You guys could have waited, though. I’m sure Willow and I would have loved to be bridesmaids.”

“Are you bloody daft, woman?” But inwardly William was grinning, before being shoved aside by Spike who strangely lamented the loss of fanfare and confetti. A piece of paper wasn’t a marriage. Spending lots of money was and he was sure Rupe’s pockets were plentiful with the dosh for his little Slayer.

Hang about, where did that frightening thought come from? Was he actually contemplating that he could get through this situation enough that he and the thorn in his bloody side could actually walk down an aisle for real?

Those warm fuzzy feelings struck him in the gut again, almost like little skittish beetles running laps around his insides. And then he remembered the feel of her scorching hot walls surrounding his cool pole and the sweet agony of coming inside her. Bleeding hell, he was.

Well, that just tore it. He was gonna have to crawl and possibly admit he might not be so far from loving her, if she could ever get her scheming head out of her arse long enough to look at him.

Bloody hell. Love’s bitch again. When would he ever learn?

Chapter Fifteen


“So…we’re married now, yeah?” A cigarette clung to his lip as he stubbornly stared at the crunched grass at his feet, revealing nothing of what he felt about that statement and leaving Buffy totally in the dark about whether she should be excited or prepare herself for defeat. Or was his being here, in front of her enough reason to hope?

She decided to be strong and damn the consequences. It was either now or never; he wanted her or he didn’t. They had something to work with or they could stay enemies. Her stomach roiled at that last possibility, but she’d tried so hard, maybe too hard and everything so far had backfired in classic Buffy way.

“Yes.”

No vague ‘yeah’ for her, nahuh! She’d be straight up and pop him in the eye with her very forward support of the marriage that was them. She had the certificate framed; she’d cleansed the finger that wore her ring—hopefully in preparation for the day he would give it back. She wanted it like nothing ever before and she’d die if he could never find it in himself to fall in love with her. If she’d ruined it all by jumping into the future and rearranging to her own design she’d be miserable until her next death.

It just wasn’t fair. She thought she could change her attitude early, accept him for what he was to become, and actually be happy. She’d just forgotten that his time frame wasn’t quite as desperate.

“You were playin’ me. Right from the start.” His eyes flashed, knowing it was true and if she denied it he’d blow out of this town so fast she’d be hard pressed seeing the back of his duster.

But she didn’t deny it. Instead, her shoulders slumped and her gaze hit the dirt at her feet with amazingly defeated speed.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t tell you how sorry.”

“’Course you can’t, pet. You haven’t got your little container of biccies.” There was a smirk on his face when she looked up, only it faltered when he saw her quick swipe to remove escaping tears. As angry as he was for being made a fool, for being pushed into something that—according to the Watcher—wasn’t meant to happen for at least another year, it caused him some pain to see her cry. To see her break a little and her confidence to suffer a beating similar to the one his pride had suffered since crossing paths with her. She’d taken away his right to a slow realisation and he thought he’d wanted her to cry. Thought he’d get pleasure out of making her work hard for his favour and her wedding ring. Hardly surprising that he was wrong again.

His Anglo-language stumped her, and instead of continuing her miserable journey into failure, she piped up with a confused, ‘huh?’ and wished fervently that she had a jar of some of Willow’s ‘make things better’ cookies. How could he stay mad over sugary goodness? Nobody could. It was the sweet nature of sugar and baking.

He rolled his eyes, looked around and then strode to a taller grave, slinging his duster over the stone as he hopped up and took a seat, making himself as comfortable for this little discussion as he could with cold cement under his bum.

“You forced me into a wedding that I would under no circumstances have participated in.” His lips drew into a very hard, thin line while he waited for the argument that was sure to come, smiling when she didn’t disappoint.

“But it was a spell. Willow willed for us to—”

“Jus’ hang on there before you dig yourself in deeper. We both know that that JP you had on standby wasn’ just coincidental, and rings with our names engraved?” He raised a sceptical brow and she blushed.

Turning away from him, she knew at last that no matter what she could do now, it wouldn’t be enough. No one could fix a disaster like this. No one could explain away the need to force another being into a joining so sacred. And why did she need it? Buffy knew she could have waited. But when a girl was visited with dreams about the hotness that was her and Spike’s future, clashing violently with her ‘ripped out of Heaven’ backlash, she knew she had only so long to make her life be happy. Knowing the suffering both she and life would put Spike through, rushing them together had seemed like the obvious thing to do. They could be together sooner, longer and make with the happy before their worlds went to respective hells.

Her planning skills were as sucky as his.

Buffy looked up and saw a thick trunked tree in front of her, and found more courage in facing it than the deserving vampire behind her. And then a blur behind it caught her attention and she found herself confronted with army colours and a solitary man loaded up for a night of vampire hunting. His tazer was held aloft when he noticed it was her, and Buffy sighed. They didn’t need this. Not on top of everything else.

“Hey, Riley,” she greeted, losing herself in the threat of the moment as she instinctually moved to cover Spike.

She jumped when she felt cool hands around her waist and then almost burst into tears when he pulled her back against his body, holding her tight and possessively. Buffy moved reluctant fingers over his hand, covering her mouth when a sob rose to her lips as he threaded his fingers through hers and held her still tighter to himself. And in those seconds she’d forgotten. Forgotten what threat stood in front of her and prevented her from just walking away—in defeat or triumph, she wasn’t willing to fight over Spike. She wouldn’t lose him, so talking her way out of this confrontation felt like the best decisions she’d made for weeks. Months even.

The soldier hid his surprise that she knew him well. The ski mask was removed and he initiated a conversation that was quite obviously one that was a little more than confusing—but not quite as hurtful as he would have thought.

“I didn’t mean to spy, but I saw you last night.”

Buffy looked confused for a minute, and then her finger was tracing the cold metal of her husband’s ring and the proposal on campus came flooding back, bringing tears to her eyes that she’d been stupid enough to give her ring back to the one she’d taken advantage of. He’d probably tossed it out her window in a fit of temper. That’s what he did. She rather assumed that’s how Harmony disappeared from the scene so quickly.

“Oh.” She didn’t know what to say; remembered the sections of her three day marathon sleep that in any other situation, she would have wasted valuable time getting to know this man and try to love him. She’d failed at that too.

The realisations were too much and she shrugged Spike away, choked on her sadness and ran from them. Ran from a situation that had gone completely wrong and left her in waiting for years of unhappiness.

She was almost at the backdoor of home when she tripped up the back step and collapsed on them, broken. Her cries were tortured, full of recriminations. What had been the point of the Powers giving her such valuable information when she had not the maturity to interpret the right course of action? Why did it always have to be cryptic and end up totally wrapped up in the bad?

As the step under her became more on the wet side than the weather actually predicted, Buffy remained oblivious to the approach of the one she ran from. Wanted to block him out and her humiliation for ever until she could grow and cope with it better.

“He said to tell you ‘congrat’s’. Was a bit more bloody pompous, but you get the drift. Christ pet, what could you have ever seen in an overgrown wanker like that?”

“How did you—?”

He grinned, just like everything was okay and he was pulling her leg. Except he really was, trying to shift her over so he could take up a spot right next to her.

“Your little band of followers filled me in. You should’ve told me.” He didn’t look at her, instead maintained his miffed expression as he stared at the stars.

“I was stupid. I thought I could make you love me faster.” She needed to do her nails. The pale pink polish was chipped but at least it wasn’t as obvious as if it were black.

“You played a dangerous game, luv. Brought aspects of me out that I would rather have stayed hidden. You weren’t ready to see—”

“William? He is sweet and tender and loving. He shows his whole heart with just a glance. Believe me, Spike. I was ready for him.”

She missed the amazement that flittered over his face as his eyes were torn from the night to settle on her power packed little self. She was a bloody marvel, she was. Wise beyond her years and he felt…proud. Yeah, like he’d found this little unpolished pearl that no one had even tried to string yet. And she wanted to be all his.

“William was a sap…a weak little wanker that didn’t know how to win.”

Her eyes burned into him with an intensity that he found off-putting. Wisdom was one thing, but he hated being the specimen under the microscope. Especially one that liked to study dust rather than the real being.

“Spike knows how to win, even while he’s losing.”

Her voice was heavy with conviction and faith and he faltered in his determination to make her sweat. How could he do that when she just automatically took his breath away with every sweet thing she said?

“Yeah, but he doesn’ want to be losing you.”

And the silence was almost a crack in the night, too loud in face of the hope that bloomed on her face and made her lower lip wobble. And then she was in his arms and crying hard, squeezing the stuffing out of him as she curled up against his body.

“Tell me you mean it,” she whispered hotly into his neck and Spike shivered. He couldn’t find the words, uncharacteristically stripped of the right things to say when he’d been faced with her eloquence this night. Instead, he delved into one of his deep pockets and fingered the little band of gold. He’d never taken off his own oath, and he was damned if he would ever let her take hers off again. Not without a bloody good wallopin’ and some choice words.

When he slid it back on her finger, he knew that no other choice could have been made. Dru had been right. The bleeding Powers had been right. He belonged to this girl and would do all in his power to deserve her. He was fighting uphill all the way, but he could try.

And like she said, Spike would always win.

With a mutual look they agreed. Buffy stood and pulled her vampire up, leading him to the backdoor of the still empty house and showed him the way back to her bedroom.

Sometimes a wedding night could be just as good the second time over.