A short while later, Buffy met up with Faythe outside the inn. A small group of males she didn’t recognise hovered in the shadows, staring with no little fascination at the newcomer. All were exceptionally handsome specimens, and each one was regarding Buffy like a cat presented with a juicy mouse swimming in a dish of cream.

“Alright, boys, put your eyes back in and let’s get out of here.”

Obediently, the soldiers followed, treading softly as they moved through narrow lanes and back alleys, no one more so than Buffy who suspected that Anjell hadn’t intended to let her out of his sight. What Spike would think of her slipping away with Faythe - who was obviously trouble with a capital 'T' - was anyone’s guess. Still, she couldn’t care less what he thought, she told herself firmly. With barely suppressed excitement, they passed a few sleepy villagers, greeting them casually before quickening their step a little.

Following a hunch, Buffy turned to her nearest companion, an angelic looking young man with a mop of dark curls and puppy dog eyes whose name was Ennico.

“Why do I think that this ‘mission’ isn’t entirely on the up and up?”

He grinned, teeth white against olive skin. “Don’t know what this ‘up and up’ is Buffee, but if you mean what I think then all I can say is that our mistress is good at guessing what the general would have us do, before he actually thinks of it.”

“Hmm, that’s what I thought.”

***

About an hour later they had left the little valley behind and were in the dip of a new landscape. Now at the edge of a dense forest, and well away from civilization, Faythe raised her fist to halt the party.

“Listen up, lads, here’s the situation; there’s a hive of skeelers somewhere in this area, they’ve got the thirst and are killing livestock. The villagers will be next. Our mission is to seek and destroy.” Waiting for the murmurs of surprise and anticipation to die down, Faythe continued, “Aim for their belly for a kill, or slash their wings to bring them down, but be careful where you tread as their jabbers can go right through your boots. Don’t waste your energy, don’t panic, work back to back, and be alert at all times. There could be a handful or a hundred, and every damn one will be out for your blood.”

Grinning, Faythe gave her men a lewd wink. “With luck we’ll all be licking something sweet and sticky by lunchtime.”

Turning from her rather flushed men she addressed Buffy, “Bit late to ask, but do you know how to use these?” Handing over a sword and long dagger, she raised a challenging eyebrow. Buffy examined the fine blades and smiled in return.

“I’m a fast learner.”

Faythe snorted. “I just bet you are.”

Buffy buckled the belt and tucked the sword in its scabbard within easy reach, then strapped the dagger to her left thigh, Aurelian style. These skeelers were in for a big surprise.

***

One minute they were cursing and stumbling through the thick undergrowth, no sign of anything except trees and more trees, and the next they were in a clearing and under attack.

It turned out that skeelers were a lot like monstrous bees, with a wingspan of about four feet from tip to tip - which somehow kept their impossibly fat bodies aloft - the black and yellow striped insects came right for them. Vicious looking black stingers, maybe ten inches long, protruded from the base of their abdomens, repeatedly thrusting at the head, throat and shoulders of the group. There were already a couple of dozen and, by the low angry buzz getting ever louder, more were on their way.

When one almost managed to skewer her face, Buffy automatically twisted away, jerking her sword up to pierce its furry body. Dying, it dropped like a rock to land in a burst of innards.

“Oh, Buffy, one other thing,” Faythe paused at her back, now occupied with several of the things, lopping off jabbers with every sweep of her blade, “don’t get stung, venom’s deadly.”

“Great,” muttered Buffy, “attack of the killer bees!”

Getting into a rhythm of ducking and lashing up at any skeeler within range, the sword in her right hand, dagger in her left, their attackers were soon piling up on the ground. Everyone else was similarly occupied and the grass was becoming decidedly stripy.

***

An age later, and liberally spattered with gore, Buffy allowed herself a weak “Yay!” as the last of the enemy hit the ground with a wet splat.

With a yell of triumph, Faythe punched the air in victory, yelling, “Yesss!” before hugging the nearest soldier in an entirely unleaderlike way. Turning her grin on Buffy she said. “Come on admit it; that was fun!”

Wiping at some gloop sliding down her cheek, only managing to smear it further, Buffy laughed. “Yes, that was fun. Don’t know why we bothered bathing first though.”

Placing her arm companionably about Buffy’s shoulders, Faythe called out to the others. “Come on, let’s go collect our real prize.”

***

Heading in the direction the attack had come from, the party eventually found their nest. Several enormous trees rose up before them, dwarfing their leafy cousins. Easily twelve feet in girth, they were covered in flaky red bark and wound tightly with thick creepers, shiny with frost. Buffy was reminded of a picture in one of her cherished childhood vid books; ‘Jack and the Beanstalk’.

“Watch out for stragglers,” Faythe called out, rubbing her hands together briskly and reaching for a sturdy vine. The creepers easily bore her weight and she was soon scaling her leafy ladder. “Last one up is a human... oops, sorry.” She looked down and snickered unapologetically.

Smiling back insincerely, Buffy selected her own tree and began to climb. The cold bit into her fingers and she focussed instead on beating Faythe to the top.

At fifteen feet, Buffy realised that she didn’t like heights. At twenty-five she was sweating, despite the cold, and trying not to whimper like a baby. A faint rustle below her nearly caused her to lose her grip but in the next moment the fresh faced features of Ennico swam into view, his slender arm gripping her waist and pushing her back into the tree’s embrace.

“Don’t look down, mistress. We’re nearly there now.”

Sure enough, the next cloud of leafy branches parted to reveal a dense platform made of organic matter; it looked like chewed bark held together with gluey spit to form an unsavoury crust…which is probably what it was. Swarming past her, the soldier rolled over the edge and got to his feet, bouncing a little. “See, safe and sound,” he said, reaching down to grab her hand and haul her up.

Clinging to the trunk were two massive beehives, both about ten feet high and covered in golden ridges. There was a large hole in the tree next to them, its edges worn smooth with use. With a flourish Ennico drew his sword and slashed at the first hive.

A hundred or so enormous, red, wriggling larvae spilled out.

“Aaagh!” Buffy nearly tipped over the edge as she reeled back in disgust, the squirming contents of the hive now flowing around her feet. Laughing delightedly, Ennico plucked one up with the point of his blade and held it in his fingers. Then he bit into it with relish, almost swooning with pleasure at the blood-filled feast.

“I crawled all the way up here for, for this!” Buffy shrieked. “It may have escaped your notice, but I do. Not. Eat. These!”

Licking his lips, he whipped up his sword again and broke open the second hive. “No, but you’ll like this, mistress.”

Rich, golden, honeycomb, completely maggot free, began oozing through the wall of the hive. It smelled of heather and wild herbs, and filled her senses. Tentatively, she broke off a little piece and touched it with her tongue.

“Oh, my, God.”

It was almost indescribably wonderful. It tasted of hot summer days, and nature, and was unbearably sweet. There was something else in it too, something that went straight to her head.

As Ennico feasted on honey-dipped larvae, Buffy forgot her previous hysteria, concentrating now on pulling chunks of the waxy treasure free from the hive. She moved to a safe distance with her banquet, sitting down contentedly with her feet dangling over the edge of the shelf.

This was indeed a prize.

Buffy watched as Ennico began carefully parcelling chunks of comb in broad leaves and then placed each in a light, tight meshed net he’d pulled from his backpack. His task complete, he secured the net to a spiderfine rope and carefully lowered the bundle over the platform, guiding it slowly to the ground below.

Filled with wellbeing, her senses heightened, and just a little dizzy, Buffy looked properly at her surroundings. When had leaves become so fascinating? They were dancing now like jewels, shifting in and out of the light. Tiny insects with iridescent wings were singing her tiny insect songs and the tree’s branches began to slowly crack and stretch, straining for the sun. Even the savage skeelers had their place here. She was at one with the world and everything was as it should be.

Glancing towards her companion, Buffy could see by his beatific expression that he felt the same way. Smiling, he moved closer to sit beside her. Lightly clasping her wrist, he brought her hand up to his mouth and began to lick the sticky honey from her fingers.

This felt wrong. Pulling her hand back she tried to glare at this fellow creature whose smouldering gaze was filled with undisguised lust.

“Stop that, what are you doing?”

“Oh, Buffee, you are so beautiful and tasty to me. We should be together just like this. I can worship you like a true Aurelian, I will bring you offerings to lay at your feet, and let you trample me under your pretty heels, if you will just let me wrap you in my arms and lick you all over.”

“No! There will be no licking of me, or anything else.” She gulped, her brain suddenly filled with images of being licked all over by Spike. “Besides, I have a husband.” she added shakily.

“Ah, Spike, he is a fine Aurelian, is he not? But he is not enough to satisfy a goddess such as you. You were made to rule over many men, Buffee. Let me prove it.”

Slapping at his now grabby hands, Buffy got to her feet unsteadily.

“I’m flattered, Ennico, truly, but I’m really not into that. Don’t make me hurt you.”

“Ah, to be hurt by you would be so good. But I see that I have gone too far with you. I will behave from now on.”

Buffy looked at him sceptically, his face was trying for remorse but his mouth twitched slightly.

“Just help me get back down. Okay?”

“Yes, my mistress.”

“And you can stop calling me that anytime.”

***

Buffy decided that coming down was even harder than going up, but with a strange feeling of euphoria flooding her veins she simply didn’t care. Ennico was assisting her descent by placing a hand on her bottom at every opportunity, only removing it when she protested, with a cheeky “Sorry, mistress,” before sneaking it back again.

They were about halfway down when a loud growl split the air. Ennico froze and went quite pale before hastily muttering, “I go now.” In an instant he was running along a thick branch and disappearing into the next tree, leaving Buffy clinging to the bark.

“Wait, where are you going?”

Peering down she could just see the foliage below part to reveal the furious features of... Spike.

***

Part of Buffy’s brain, the part where something like common sense reigned, was urging her to make like a monkey and scamper in the general direction of anywhere else. Unfortunately, the highly intoxicated rest of her was blinking in surprise at the swiftly moving figure below. In her haze she lost her footing and slid several feet down the vines. Now, with one leg wedged firmly inside a creeper, she lost her handhold too, finding herself upside down with one knee bent against the tree, arms flailing in slow motion.

“Ooh it’s Spikey, and you’re all the wrong way up. Hellooo, Shpikey! Are you after my honey? ‘Cos it’s all mine you know. No licking without permish, permiss, without my say so.” Getting into the surreal moment she warmed to her subject.

“I fought the bad bumple bees – snicker-snack, stripy bees, in the trees, Spike’s a tease,” she started singing.

Even in this unusual position Buffy could see Spike’s eyes change from blue to gold.

“Spiiike,” she started to wail, “I’m all stuck. Get me down!”

Spike was now muttering something under his breath; she couldn’t make out all the words but it didn’t sound very nice. When he was about six feet away she could see his face clearly and gulped. He was livid.

Suddenly his expression changed. In a flash a dagger appeared in his hand, and he threw it straight at her. With a yelp, Buffy closed her eyes, only to open them again when an enormous skeeler - twice the size of the others - went hurtling past her, the blade firmly embedded in its thorax. Angling himself out of its way, Spike continued up until he finally reached her, gripping her body with one arm until she was upright again. Twisting herself to grab him around the neck, she started to giggle as he worked to free her leg.

“You’re my white knight, come to rescue his damson in distress.” Now clinging to him fully and intent on biting his ear, she nuzzled up, ignoring the tic in his cheek and the strange grinding sounds his fangs were making.

A group had gathered at the base of the tree by the time they reached the bottom, gathering up the honey to take back to the village. A sheepish Ennico was trying to hide behind Faythe, who was laughing uproariously. Instead of putting Buffy down Spike held her in an iron grip, and strode further into the forest. He said not a word.

Coming to a stream, well away from the others, he finally lowered her to the ground. Taking a good look at her rescuer, Buffy decided to run; she didn’t get far. Gripped by the back of her collar, she was dragged to the water’s edge and pushed to her knees, her head dunked into the freezing water.

“Aah!” She came up spluttering. “Cold.”

“Soon have you warmed up, love.”

Before the indignant, wet girl could react, she found herself upside down again, her belly pressed to a hard thigh, legs trapped under his and a forearm pinning her shoulders.

The smack, when it came, was such a surprise that Buffy almost didn’t notice it. She wasn’t so lucky with the next, or the one after. As heat bloomed across her vulnerable bottom, and she squirmed to get free, she could make out odd, disjointed sentences.

“Stupid. Stupid girl!" Pause. " … know better than to go off… Tan your arse… Could have been killed!”

When her frequent yelps, threats of violence, and pleas for mercy got her nowhere Buffy finally gave up struggling and went limp, sobbing quietly over his lap.

Spike stopped.

Almost gently brushing the hair away from the back of her neck, he leaned down to grip it carefully in his fangs, not breaking the skin. The very hard hand that had caused so much discomfort now stroked her through the thin fabric of her pants, calming and caressing, till the burning eased and a fire of a different kind began to spread along her nerve endings.

Shifting his body, he eased his fingers between her thighs until she opened them voluntarily. His left arm supporting her head, he withdrew his fangs, giving her the freedom to move if she wished, while continuing to tease, each stroke of her sensitised flesh now making her jump in anticipation of the next. Pleased when her breathing became rapid and uneven, and her little fingers started rhythmically kneading his leg, he placed two fingers against her clit and rubbed quickly until she arched up and froze, crying out in release.

Sighing, Spike lifted her up and moved her until she straddled him. Buffy gazed into his eyes, flushed and a little tearful.

“I’m sorry, Buffy. I was worried sick. I lost control. I punished you." Leaning back he reached into his jacket and withdrew a fine woollen scarf.

“And now your pretty hair is all wet and you’ll likely catch a fever. Here.” Gathering her hair away from her face Spike squeezed out the last drops of water from it before wrapping the scarf, turban style, around her head.

Buffy blinked at him solemnly. “You were worried about me?”

Whatever his reply, it was lost to her ears as she succumbed to the after effects of too much adrenaline, the drugging honey, the lassitude that comes after a good weep and the brain melting high of an amazing orgasm. Pitching forward onto his chest, Buffy was out like a light.

Spike remained perfectly still, wondering when he’d ever learn.

After discovering that Buffy and Faythe had scampered off together, he’d not been unduly worried, seeing it as a perfect opportunity to find her and talk without Anjell breathing down his neck. On his way through the village he’d met a woman selling woollen goods and purchased the scarf on impulse, a gift to sweeten a girl. Following the trail had been easy, finding the right words to say when they met up, a lot less so. However, all the speeches in his head had vanished upon reaching the scattered remains of the skeelers. Cursing Faythe, and dimly aware that if Buffy was hurt, he’d know it, Spike began to run, fear lending him extra speed.

***

He eventually found her.

To say he was astonished to see Buffy being groped halfway up a tree didn’t really do the word justice. When she added years to his life by almost falling and then had the audacity to find it funny, it made him want to both kiss and kill her at the same time. The sudden appearance of the hive queen, inches away from his oblivious wife, made his heart stop.

Once they’d made it safely to the ground, fright had slipped seamlessly into anger and a primitive part of him, the part that was determined she accept him fully before he’d dance to all of her tunes, had leapt at the chance to exact a little punishment. Spike suspected that Buffy would want his own hide seriously bruised for this once she recovered.

So much for apologizing.

As Droo’s second most favoured lover, Spike had willingly given her everything, ever hopeful of more in return. Army life brought him the affections of other women too, and he’d occasionally pass time between soft thighs till daybreak, enjoying pleasure without commitment. Regretful that Droo didn’t mind a bit.

Deep in his marrow Spike craved more. Somehow Buffy had become that ‘more’ and at that moment, Spike vowed to make things better between them.

Provided she ever spoke to him again.

With a soft laugh, that sounded only a little like crying, Spike cuddled his girl close, while he still could.

***