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72 Shocks
 
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Chapter 72 - Shocks

Spike got a blow in, sending Buffy backwards a step. She recovered as he advanced on her, and dodged his next hit.

She retaliated with a kick, landing her foot in his middle. She lunged while he staggered, but Spike was already moving away, trying to get into her blind spot. Buffy jumped back as he came up beside her, and they traded blows.

Spike got hold of her left arm, but she pulled free of his grasp, spinning her body as she moved behind him. She grabbed his arm and yanked it at an angle as she slipped around him, almost catching it in that painful hold. But he was just as quick, twisting in an unnatural way and spinning to face her.

But her grip on his wrist didn’t break, and his other arm snaked out to pull her off him. The same instant, the arc of her right arm was completed, and she brought her blunt stake smashing into his chest.

For a moment, they both stared at each other. Then Buffy dropped the stake and did a little jump.

“I did it! I beat you. I actually beat you!” She beamed. “One hundred percent, no question about it, you would have been dead. Not just a tie, not just ‘good move, love,’ but totally beat you.”

She bounced back on her heels, rocking on the mat.

Spike grinned at her and then suddenly he was behind her, arms wrapping firmly around her middle.

“Don’t celebrate too soon, love. You might have got one vamp, but you forgot about the other one. And now he’s got you, and you’re unarmed.”

“Oh, you were totally alone,” she scoffed.

“Was I?”

“Yep.” Buffy nodded emphatically. She could tell that Spike wasn’t really that serious about training more; she could feel his smirk against her cheek.

“You sure? Always gotta pay attention.”

“You were a lone vamp that I completely just dusted. Otherwise I wouldn’t have done the happy dance.”

“It was a nice dance,” he said in a low voice.

He also wasn’t serious because his hand was creeping under her waistband.

“Beat me fair and square, you did.”

“Maybe I’ll do it again.”

He grabbed her hips and pulled her back against him.

“Did I ever tell you,” he said in her ear, “how desirable you look when you’re fightin’?”

“Not exactly,” she breathed. Buffy’s eyes closed for a moment. She pushed into him.

“Especially when you win,” he rumbled. Spike unashamedly rubbed himself against her butt. His fingertips dug into her hips as he ground into her.

Suddenly he spun her around. Without missing a beat, Buffy wrapped her legs around his waist as he hoisted her up. Immediately, there was an insistent bulge pressing against her in exactly the right spot. She urgently squeezed him, even as he was working around her, trying to get his fly open.

They were once again going to go from sparring to having mind-blowing sex. Not that she particularly minded.

“Could go upstairs,” he gasped into her neck.

“Too far.”

He nodded in agreement. A moment later, she heard his belt come undone.

They were once again going to have sex half-dressed in the basement. Not that she minded—they’d had plenty of sex in a bed recently.

Buffy scrambled off him long enough to pull her pants down and discard her panties.

She was ready to climb back on when Spike spread his duster on the mat, opening it up for her. He pulled his jeans down. “Take off your shirt,” he ordered.

“You too, then,” Buffy said, settling herself down. She supposed they could have needy, standing-up sex another time.

She undid her bra, watching as he pulled his black T-shirt off and flung it to the floor. Something else on the floor caught her eye. The scarf from earlier.

She reached for it.

Spike’s look intensified when he saw what she had, but he didn’t say anything. He was over her now, naked except for his jeans bunched around his ankles, his boots still on. There was something unbelievably hot about that.

Buffy leaned back, wrapping the scarf around her head.

She saw him pump himself twice before she pulled the blindfold down.

Then there was nothing but blackness.

A moment later, there was nothing but him working inside her.

-----
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Over the weekend, she and Spike sparred more, but without the sexing, since her mother was right upstairs.

She beat him again. He beat her some, too, but that wasn’t the point. She could beat him now. And the more she beat him, the closer she was to being able to beat Angelus.

She had a late lunch with her mother on Saturday, before heading to the store and to Spike’s. Despite her earlier freak-out about whether she was moving in or not, she knew she liked being over there.

But ‘living together’ just sounded so serious. She realized, though, that they weren’t living together. That implied more than a few drawers of clothing and bathroom stuff. It had just sort of taken her by surprise.

Buffy knew that she wasn’t ready to live with someone. She also suspected that she and Spike shouldn’t be ready. They had barely gotten all their problems worked out a week ago. It was just too soon. She was still more or less wrapping her head around the fact that the relationship she had considered doomed wasn’t going to be.

There was nothing bad about taking things slowly. There was also nothing wrong with working up to moving in.

Buffy arrived at Spike’s carrying several sacks. She’d gone shopping, getting a few basic condiments like salt and pepper, sugar, and butter, and getting kitchen things like paper towels, dish detergent, and a can opener. It seemed sort of dumb that she’d forgotten them before, but she’d had never done any real shopping. Her mother always did the shopping, and besides running by the store to pick up another gallon of milk, Buffy rarely went to the supermarket.

She had gotten dishes the time before, but she really hadn’t thought of the things that were needed to ‘start’ a kitchen. Which was definitely what she was doing, because Spike had zero anything. She’d also bought some more food for herself.

Buffy carried the sacks up the outside stairs, and knocked before opening the door. It was a good compromise, she thought—not just busting in, but not waiting outside like a guest.

Spike had been watching TV, and he took a bag from her, despite her protests of ‘Slayer strength, and it’s hardly heavy, anyway.’

Buffy put away the things in the kitchen and turned to see Spike reaching into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. “How much, pet?”

“I’ve got it.”

He held two twenties out.

“It’s stuff for me,” she said. “Stuff you wouldn’t be using, since you wouldn’t be cooking.”

“Yeah, but it’s stuff for my place.”

“And I bought it.”

He arched a brow. “Where’d you get the money?”

“Mom,” she muttered, seeing where he was going with this.

“Right. You’re not using your mum’s money to buy things for here. If you had your own money, it’d be different.”

“It is my money. She gave it to me.” Okay, that sounded lame.

He snorted. “An allowance, like? Nothin’ wrong with that, pet, but use it to buy clothes, fill up your car, go out to eat—what she give it to you for—not for—”

“Buying things for my significant vampire’s apartment,” she interrupted. “Fine.” Buffy took the bills from him, putting them in her purse. “But you’re not paying for my shampoo and stuff. Because cosmetics is definitely what my money is for buying.”

“How much was it?” he asked anyway.

“Thirty-something.”

Spike’s mouth actually fell open. “Thirty dollars for shampoo?”

“And stuff,” she said defensively.

“I had shampoo.”

“That two-in-one bottle from the dollar store? Please. I need moisturizing and volumizing. Plus, yours is boring.”

He continued to stare at her, so she started unloading the bag. “I got the Enchanted Apple shampoo and the matching conditioner. And some Passion Fruit Blast body wash—because the loofa sponge came free with it. Oh, and another bottle of my cherry blossom scented lotion, and some Ocean body spray. And I brought this extra vanilla lotion, in case I don’t feel like cherry blossoms.”

Spike surveyed the bottles spread out on the kitchen table. “Well, it’s no bloody wonder I could never decide what you smelled like.”

Buffy pawed through the bottom of the bag. “I also got a toothbrush, toothpaste, face cleanser…you know, the basics. I have stuff like extra makeup and hairspray in my purse, so I can hold off on that. Oh, and I brought another towel from home. And some washcloths. You need washcloths.”

“For what?”

“Taking off makeup.”

“Yeah, I knew I was doin’ it wrong.”

“Okay, I need washcloths.” Buffy looked back at her things on the table. “I hope you have an extra drawer in the bathroom.”

-----

They watched TV together in the afternoon. One thing hadn’t exactly led to another, but as Spike’s hand moved from her waist to her neck, it was clear where it was going to lead. Buffy smiled and pretended not to notice him as he leaned in and nuzzled her ear.

His head dropped, his lips moving over her jaw and trailing down her neck. Spike nipped at her collarbone.

“I’m trying to watch TV,” Buffy said, struggling to keep her voice even.

He licked back up her throat. “It’s a commercial.”

She broke into a fit of giggles.

Spike snatched the remote and turned off the television. Buffy leaned against the back of the couch. “You want to now?”

He grinned. “That’s the general idea.” He turned to her, and his lips found her throat again. Spike sucked and nibbled at her.

A moment later, she felt him change.

Buffy suddenly put her hands on his shoulders. “Wait.” She tried to push him back up. However, she found that he was strangely resistant.

“Why do you always do that?” she asked.

“What?”

“Change like that.”

“Didn’t figure you wanted to see.”

“I know what you are,” Buffy said. “I don’t pretend you’re not a vampire. It’s kind of hard to do that when you’re biting me, you know.” She moved a hand up the back of his neck. “Let me see you.”

Finally, he pulled back, meeting her gaze with golden eyes.

“Still didn’t figure you’d want—”

Buffy put a finger to his lips. “This is what I want.” She slowly studied how he looked like this, her eyes roving over his face for several moments. He looked like a vampire, but he still looked like Spike. Some part of her thought that he was not unattractive.

Spike was watching her as she watched him.

Buffy turned to straddle his lap. She put her hands on his arms and placed a light kiss on his lips, lingering before slowly moving back.

Then she gripped his shoulders and leaned away, arching her back and bearing her neck to him. Spike’s hands found the small of her back and pulled her flush against his chest. He ran his lips down her right cheek, his teeth dragging over her skin as he neared her throat. His mouth opened, and he felt out his favorite spot.

Spike always bit her on the right, she realized.

“No,” Buffy suddenly said.

He immediately stopped. Then he pulled back and looked at her in confusion.

She tilted her head the other way. “Bite me on the left.”

Where Angelus had bitten her.

Spike seemed to realize what she was thinking. He ran his hand over the smooth skin of her neck.

“Buffy, there’s nothing there.”

She knew it was true; there were no scars or marks. Slayer healing had taken care of that. But there was still something there.

Buffy shook her head and tucked her chin to her right shoulder.

After a moment, Spike bent down, and she felt almost relieved when his teeth cut into her flesh. She knew it was stupid, but it felt like he was taking something away—draining the event from her body’s memory with each drop that he took.

She wrapped herself around him, even as he enveloped her. She was still sitting astride his lap, legs falling close on either side of him. Her arms rested on his chest, and were now pressed tightly between them. He was bent over her slightly, back curved and arms firmly holding her to him. Their heads were tucked together.

A part of Buffy noticed that there was nothing sexual about the bite. It was intimate, but the desperate intensity was gone. Neither one of them was trying to hold on as long as they could, stretch the moment out into an evening. Since they were having sex again, being this close physically was certainly no longer a rare occurrence. The blood wasn’t the only thing that tied them together.

That wasn’t to say that she didn’t enjoy the biting. Because she did.

There was the connection.

It was a union of a different sort.
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Buffy leaned back against the couch when she and Spike separated.

Their shoulders were touching as they sat facing the same direction once again. He draped an arm over her stomach.

“I’m hungry,” Buffy suddenly said.

“I’m not.”

“No, I guess you wouldn’t be.”

Strange how that didn’t freak her out. Despite what Spike had once snapped about her not being food to him, she realized on some level that she was. Even when he was drinking her blood for other reasons, she knew that there was no way he couldn’t get food out of it. She also didn’t mind because she knew he had to get it somewhere.

“Well, I want food,” she said.

Buffy stood up, but felt a bit lightheaded and sank back down.

“You know, I think we overlooked something. Biting at night is good because I don’t have to move afterward.”

“I can take less.”

“You don’t have to. I’m just thinking that in the future, the middle of the afternoon is of the bad.”

He nodded, and then stood. “I’ll go get you somethin’ to eat.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

“I want to.”

Buffy smiled. “Okay, how about one of those humongous fruit smoothies? Then I’ll fix some pasta later or something.”

“Sure.” He kissed her on the forehead and put on his coat. “Be back soon.”

Buffy settled back on the couch as the door closed, preparing herself for a lazy weekend.

-----

At the beginning of the week, she and Spike were in the basement again, preparing to spar.

“You ready to get beaten again?” Buffy asked.

“Are you?” he asked, taking off his coat.

She circled him. “Not gonna happen. Today’s my day. I’m going to get you every time.”

Spike mirrored her. “That so?”

Buffy lunged at him. He jumped out of the way. She spun around to face him, beginning to circle again.

He looked amused. Buffy kicked and he caught her leg, pulling her off balance and sending her to the mat.

“Your day, huh?” Spike said with a laugh. “You get up on the wrong side of the bed today, love?”

He grabbed her ankles and tugged clockwise, flipping her over. “Hasn’t been this easy in a while,” he said, his weight resting on the balls of his feet as he crouched over her.

Buffy frowned and scooted out from under him. “I’m tired, that’s all,” she said, standing up. “Let’s go.”

“Your move.” He bounced back.

When she wasn’t fast enough to land a close-range blow, she knew something was wrong.

It wasn’t until he grabbed her left arm and she was unable to get any momentum off her twist—which was hardly twisty—that she realized something was horribly wrong.

Seconds seemed to pass in slow motion.

Buffy yanked backward, but his grip on her arm didn’t waver.

She saw Spike’s body pull back as he drew his left hand into a fist.

“Stop! Stop it!!

Buffy was surprised by the shriek of her voice. But raw instinct was screaming that Spike was seconds away from seriously hurting her, even if he didn’t know it and she didn’t know how.

He froze—halted by the fear in her voice or the panic of her movements—even as she desperately jerked to the side.

Buffy’s feet slipped out from underneath her, but the hand holding her arm didn’t waver, leaving her dangling awkwardly from his grasp.

Spike grabbed her other shoulder before she could stand, hauling her up to face him. “What’s wrong with you?”

His fingers were biting into her arms, and Buffy went wild. She thrashed in frustration and furiously pounded her fists against his chest, panicking not because she was trapped, but because she suddenly couldn’t do something she should have been able to do.

Spike caught her wrists and held her at arm’s length. He looked at her like she’d gone insane.

“Let go!” she demanded. “No, don’t! I can make you.”

Buffy pulled backward as hard as she could, digging her heels into the mat and throwing her weight back. She twisted and tugged, but she couldn’t free herself.

He didn’t even budge.

Buffy stared at their hands almost in horror, and then she went slightly limp. “I can’t do it,” she whispered in defeat.

Spike raised an eyebrow. “I’m barely holding you.”

It felt like he had her in a vise.

“I don’t—I can’t—just let go now?”

She sank down to the floor as he did, absently rubbing her wrists. Spike crouched beside her, his face full of confusion and concern.

“Buffy? What is it?”

Suddenly she grabbed his hand, squeezing it as hard as she could.

“Does that hurt? At all?” She couldn’t keep the desperation out of her voice.

“No, pet.” He was frowning at her.

Buffy dropped his hand. “Something’s wrong.”
 
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