It was dark. She was lying on a bed of soft furs but the surface beneath them was unyielding stone. Her wrists and ankles were bound with creepers, stretching her limbs in four directions on the raised altar, with her as a pulsing fleshy offering to whichever god or monster inhabited this place. She knew she could free herself at any time but she was...curious.

Moving her head to the left she could make out the entrance to the cave and see tiny pinpricks of distant stars beyond. A chilly breeze signalling the first bite of autumn gusted in, lightly touching her nakedness, the night silent save for the faint murmur of rushing water and the stifled shrieks of captured prey.

She waited.

Finally it came, a grey shape coalescing at the cave’s mouth. Sleek, powerful, hungry. A low growl echoed as the beast entered on soft padded feet, displacing the dry leaves and making them crisp and whisper at its passage. She could see long muscles rippling under fur, and wide shoulders tapering down to narrow flanks where a long tail twitched and swished as it silently stalked her. Three white stripes ran at an angle across its back. The creature regarded her with golden eyes and sharp gleaming teeth, and a constant purring forced in and out through a great barrel chest sent vibrations through her gut. Advancing slowly, the animal locked gazes with the girl, promising violent death or unspeakable pleasure…or perhaps both.

With a lazy spring he mounted the slab of rock, wide paws landing on either side of her head - two more poised between open thighs. Heavy jaws lowered to snuffle at her hair, inhaling the warmth of her breath. He, for she could now see that it was most definitely a male, grazed her cheek with soft fur and whiskers, his eyes half closing, taking in her essence. A pause, then a long, scratchy tongue emerged past razored fangs tasting her throat, her lips, and her now closed eyelids. She in turn was dizzied by the scent of exotic spices, of bones and blood…and longing.

The tongue now took a downwards path, rasping against her skin till it reached her breasts and wildly beating heart. A curling lick to tight nipples filled with want, back arching up for more, her musky, salty skin proving a fine feast.

More.

The beast was at her belly now, her weakest point for a swift slash of jaws or claws and, as if to point out her foolishness, he opened his mouth wide then lightly pressed a toothy circle on her flesh, encompassing her in tiny prickles. Message made he returned to the journey, now nuzzling against the firm flesh protecting her womb, sensing the fertile rush of blood, the tremor of wet juices and clenching muscle. Backing further down the slab, he reached his final destination and took a deep breath. A cold nose nudged once at her entrance, encouraging her to spread her legs further, and with no more foreplay the tongue was pressing against her most secret places.

She gave a sharp cry, lifting her body to reach the grinning monster as he licked her swollen lips, soft and hard, sandpaper and silk - a merciless attack on her aching cunt - tapping against her clit, withdrawing as she reached crisis point, exploring her folds, savouring her wetness, greedy for her surrender. And just as her mind started to stutter, her sinews to creak against the restraints, he plunged his tongue inside her, up, up, thrusting and rubbing. So deep. With an inhuman cry in counterpoint to his lusty growl, she came.

***

Buffy woke with a start. In the grainy half-light she lay not on furs but on cotton sheets; on a mattress, not marble. Her wrists and ankles ached and her thighs felt slippery. As her pounding heart gradually slowed, she looked into yellow eyes which slowly transformed back to blue.

Spike didn’t say a word, he just stared back. Realising that her hand was firmly clasped in his she tugged it free and retreated to her side of the bed, turning her back on him. With a short laugh, Spike turned too. There was a loud silence until, gradually, they both fell asleep again.

***

Eventually the annoyingly chirpy birds outside, and the pink tendrils of light invading the tent, pulled Buffy from her sleep. Pushing her nocturnal adventures right out of her mind, she stretched and yawned before deciding that the dawn chorus was more effective than any alarm clock. She was alone, and that suited her just fine - although after so many years spent sleeping, eating and working in cramped spaces, the size of her new living quarters was a bit unnerving. All this room just for her…well, them.

Buffy’s lip pulled into a pout as she contemplated married life with a demon for a husband, a demon who she was pretty sure hated her as much as she hated him. Still, there was always a bright side, the truce could be broken for any number of reasons that didn’t involve her, and then she could kill him with a clear conscience. Or, even better, he could meet with an unfortunate accident. After all, this was an untamed planet with many indigenous beasties, and there was bound to be something filled to the brim with poison or big teeth - preferably both. No-one could blame Buffy, the grieving widow, and they’d still have to respect the peace agreement.

Determined to find out all she could about the local flora and fauna, Buffy quickly dressed, grabbed a towel, and went out to greet the morning.

The sight that met her as she rounded the corner was unexpected. A small fire, sunk into the ground and surrounded by a neat rectangle of stones, was blazing merrily. Over it, suspended on a metal tripod, was a large iron pot filled with gently steaming water. On a wooden bench nearby several gleaming fish lay neatly in a row, cleaned and gutted, their blue scales iridescent in the sunlight. However, it wasn’t this that drew her attention, but the sight of the man with his back to her under a nearby tree.

He was standing over a small table containing a big silver bowl, pouring water from a cup over his hair with one hand while the other supported him as he leaned forward. Naked to the waist, the strong, corded muscles of his torso and arms flexed as he moved. There wasn’t an ounce of unwanted flesh on him. His skin was pale, smooth, and running diagonally across the width of his back were three parallel raised scars. The water trickled down his neck and shoulders in little beads, following his spine before disappearing underneath leather trousers stretched across firm buttocks. A flick of his head to disperse the water and he reached out for a sharp blade and a shaving brush which he scraped across a bar of soap.

Sensing a presence behind him, Spike looked into the mirror tacked to the tree in front of him and slowly turned his head. Shaking off his human features, he regarded the young woman with a fangy smile.

“Morning, Buffy.”

Speechless, and ruthlessly pushing down the bad thoughts invading her mind, she watched as he picked up a towel and rubbed at his hair until it stood up in spikes. With a good view of his front, she couldn’t help noticing the glint of a nipple ring, or the way the bands of flesh flowed and dipped along the hard contours of his chest and stomach - or the top of the V that pointed to another fine muscle hidden further down. Nope, not going there.

“You’ll be wanting to wash up.”

A few steps to the fire and he lifted the pot as if it weighed nothing, carrying it off to the trees beyond.

“I’ve fixed you up a little private place where you can clean up. There’s soap and suchlike there. Oh, and there’s an earth closet a few yards down that little slope.”

“A what closet?”

“A toilet, luv.” He smiled. “Welcome to life on a primitive planet.”

***

Spike returned to the fireside shaking his head in amusement. The expression on Buffy’s face when she’d seen the outdoor toilet had been a picture. The small wooden structure, containing a bench with a wooden lid at the centre, was luxurious by battleground standards. There was a glass bowl containing glow rocks to one side, for when it was dark, and a dish of sweet smelling water moss on the other. A bucket of earth and a wooden scoop rested on the floor. At her puzzled expression he’d raised the centre lid to reveal the round hole in the bench.

“Um, er, well, you do what you have to do here and clean yourself with some moss and drop it in. Then you add a bit of this earth last of all, and close the lid. There are tiny creatures in the soil that activate in the dark. They’ll eat up all your bodily waste and live there, quite happily, until the next time they get fed. Add a bit more each time until it’s all gone, then one of us can put it all back in the bucket and reuse it all over again. No germs, no mess, no smell.”

Buffy stared hard at the bucket.

“As long as there is a trace of light it’s all perfectly inactive.” He paused and tried not to smirk. “And no, it won’t leap up and bite you on the bottom.”

Buffy gulped before narrowing her eyes at him. “That’s what you say,” she muttered.

***

Leaving her to get ready for the morning, Spike returned to finish shaving and make breakfast. He knew that Buffy was confused by his apparent helpfulness and, if it kept her off balance, then so much the better. He was quite used to juggling the two sides of his life; he could indulge his overpowering bloodlust in the company of other males, yet still accept the conditioning placed on him when back in female society. As long as Buffy didn’t realise that she controlled the relationship then he would be able to subtly alter the balance of power. If he was clever, and he was, when they finally completed the mating ritual he would gain all the control.

Permanently.

Returning to his task and remembering better days at his mother’s side, he skilfully stuffed the fish with handfuls of herbs, a little salt and squeezes of sharp juice from a greenfruit, before wrapping each one in a large leaf to form a parcel. This done, he placed the fish on a heavy skillet resting on the coolest part of the fire. With a sigh, he proceeded to scrub down the bench before making the flat bread.

His mum had meant the world to him; he’d been devastated by her death. The war had been raging for several years before the humans unleashed their weapons, and he’d been stationed on another planet altogether when it happened. He and Anjell had rushed back to help, but there had been nothing they could do. The magical barriers had been put up to prevent more missiles from penetrating the sky, and the sickness in the air had been removed, but those who had not died immediately spent long weeks before passing over to the Beyond. His mother had survived…for a while.

To see her clever eyes grow so dim, her beautiful long silver hair fall out in great clumps as he’d held her, had torn his heart. He had wanted to die too from the pain of it. Yet, even as she’d coughed up the last traces of blood in her lungs - too sick to take nourishment even from his veins - she’d pleaded with him not to let hate for the enemy blind him to the possibility of love and forgiveness.

“Oh, my darling, everything will be all right, you’ll see.” She’d raised a frail hand to brush away his tears, and closed her eyes for the last time.

She was gone.

Even the comfort offered by Droo and Anjell, his grieving sister, hadn’t been enough to calm the rage and anguish. He’d returned to the fighting in a haze of vengeance, taking unbelievable risks in his thirst to kill, to pay them back tenfold. It was a long time before the memory of his mother’s last moments had been replaced with thoughts of the happier times they’d shared; preparing fish for breakfast, studying the old chronicles together, reading out his stupid poems just to hear her uncritical praise.

As he grew older she’d quietly encouraged his hesitant efforts to find a mate, one he could give himself to without reservation. Even after declaring his undying love for Droo she’d been supportive, although it was clear that she didn’t really approve.

“You are destined for someone special, William, someone who will not share you with anyone else and be a true mate. I can feel it. Just be patient.”

Spike shook his head to clear it. There was no point in dwelling in the past. As he kneaded the dough on the wooden surface he idly wondered what his mother would have to say to him now.

***

Buffy returned. She had fixed her hair up with a couple of straight twigs until only a few locks could escape. She’d braved the outdoors and survived - now she was famished. Without a word, Spike handed her a plate of food and went to sit on a rock close by. He had lost his monster face but his expression was distant.

Deciding that she wouldn’t be rude and refuse - just this once - she banished thoughts of getting herself a proper breakfast and sat down on the grass, plate in lap. She was a bit surprised to be waited on like this but decided that he was just trying to help her fit in to this new world. Certainly she didn’t have a clue about making breakfast on a real fire, or understand even the basics of outdoor plumbing. Still didn’t mean she had to like him though.

The bread was easy enough; it was warm and crumbly in her mouth, and tasted savoury and a bit sweet, and was unbelievably good. As she chewed she glanced over to Spike to see how to tackle the rest of the meal. He deftly unwrapped his baked fish, slid the flesh away from the scales and backbone with a small dagger before raising chunks of the white meat on the blade to his lips. Screwing up her courage, she copied his actions with her own knife. She would have to show him what a fork was for - and soon - before she injured herself.

This was an actual creature and she was about to eat it. She knew perfectly well that the beef stew, chicken curry and other dishes she was used to were simply old fashioned names given to vegi protein with synthetic flavouring. This wasn’t pretend fish in front of her; this one had accusing milky eyeballs. After carefully draping a piece of leaf over its head, she continued her meal.

***

Buffy spent the rest of the morning exploring the woods around her new home, leaving Spike to do whatever it was that Aurelians did on their honeymoon. Ignoring the fact that those activities would probably involve two people, she wandered aimlessly along the animal tracks intersecting the trees.

Here, everything was quiet, apart from the low hum and rub of insects. The leafy canopy provided a welcome shield from the rising sun, and soft moss underfoot masked her presence to a number of timid creatures that hopped, trotted and slithered across the path ahead.

A monkey, with dappled fur and startled eyes, chattered at her from the safety of a tree branch before leaping out of sight. A mother and baby deer paused on long elegant legs to drink their fill at a stream before merging once more with the trees. Some looked familiar, but others were quite unique. A small solitary rodent with long red spines bristling along its back nearly ran over her feet, making her yelp in surprise. And two green and yellow birds, covered in both scales and soft floating plumage, crashed together in an angry flurry, each too intent on dominating the other to notice her pass by.

She loved it here.

A little further and the trees came to an abrupt stop. In front of her was an expanse of crystal clear water. It was an exquisite shade of turquoise that she’d never seen before. Reflecting the sun like a mirror, the only movement on its surface was of clouds passing overhead. It looked cool and wet and wonderful.

A low flat rock, with horizontal stripes of pink, jutted out a few inches above the surface. With a quick look around, Buffy peeled off her uniform jump suit and placed it neatly with her boots at the water’s edge. She couldn’t swim but she knew all about sunbathing, and this beat the sun room she was used to hands down. A couple of steps up and she was sitting on the rock in her underwear, legs dangling down into the water, watching curious little fish drift up to nibble at her toes before darting off again.

Gradually the warmth and the lapping water proved too much, and Buffy lay back to stare at the sky until she finally succumbed to sleep.

***

Spike silently emerged from the trees at a point about fifty yards from where she lay. He’d been watching her progress through the woods half an hour earlier, until satisfied she was not meeting anyone to ‘report back’ to her soldier friends, Now she was lying on his fishing rock…and he wasn’t pleased.

‘I’ll just let her fry in the sun a bit longer,’ he thought meanly. ‘See how fond she is of falling asleep in the middle of the day then.’

Quietly finding another rock to perch on, he waited for something nice and juicy to swim by.

***

It happened so suddenly that even he was startled. A scream of pain had him glancing up to see Buffy in the coils of a massive lacuna. It had entwined itself around her legs, open mouth embedded in her thigh. With a great tug the black serpent yanked the girl from the rock, dragging her under the water in a churning froth of blood and bubbles.

Running at breakneck speed, Spike rapidly covered the distance between them and launched into a shallow dive. The ground shelved steeply down into the water where he could just see the thrashing movement of one, no, two giant snakes as they proceeded to drown their victim. Gripping his knife, fangs bared, he latched on to a mass of undulating loops, biting and ripping through the scales as he prised them away from Buffy.

She, in turn, had a grip on the head of the lacuna biting her and was wrenching its jaws open. Forced to let go, it tried to get another grip as she grabbed each side of its gaping mouth and pulled. The snake was practically torn in two. Spike didn’t have time to wonder at this, he was now wrapped in the death squeezes of the other monster, busy systematically shredding open its belly until finally, letting go, the serpent sank loosely out of sight.

He looked up to see if she was alright and saw the panic in Buffy’s eyes as she moved weakly about under the water, her mouth open, sucking it in. As he reached to grab her she became very still, her hair floating around her pale face.

‘NO!’

With a surge, Spike grabbed the girl and pulled her with him to the surface. She was limp in his arms. Gripping his rock, he hauled her on top, following closely. Quickly rolling her onto her stomach, he pushed and pressed on her back to force the water out. She still wasn’t breathing. Turning her over, he tilted her head back and sealed his mouth over hers, forcing air into her lungs. Again, and again.

Nothing.

Then, with a splutter, she was twisting under him to expel the contents of the lake onto the hard stone.

“Spike?”

With a flutter of her eyelids she whispered her thanks before passing out.

***