It was hard for Buffy to believe that Spike could live in a place as sterile as this tiny apartment.  Granted, he didn’t need much, but he hadn’t needed much when he lived in the crypt, either.  And how strange was it that a stone monument should seem so much warmer than an actual human dwelling?  She couldn’t help but compare the bare walls and stark coloring here with the rich, vibrant colors and fabrics with which he had surrounded himself in Sunnydale. 

Something about the lower level of the crypt had always seemed so completely decadent—candles playing with light and shadow, satin sheets and worn but still beautiful rugs providing point and counterpoint of sensation, dark woods that seemed to absorb light and reflect it back in deeper, more seductive shades of itself.  That room had been designed as a sanctuary—as much Spike’s as hers, she knew that now, though then she had believed it to be all for her—and she hadn’t been lying when she had told the slayers-in-training that it was cozy.  Spike was nothing if not ruled by physicality, and his sensuality had been borne out by the pleasure palace he had created in that makeshift home.

Buffy had taken so much time to reflect on every little nuance of him in her memories, afraid to let anything slip for fear of losing him forever.  Thinking about the nights they had spent in the basement of her house, holding each other in sleep, had brought forth memories of other nights spent in his crypt, in each other’s arms for a very different reason.  Those nights had brought comfort in their own way, but nowhere near the sensation of completion she got from closing her eyes and resting her head against his chest, knowing that she was safe because he would protect her.

“It’s spartan I know, luv… but ‘ve not been here long an’ there hasn’t been time for decoratin’ with Fred an’ Blue an’ all…” Spike’s voice shook her from her thoughts, and she looked at him only to find him ducking his head shyly and absentmindedly rubbing the back of his neck.

“Spike, shush.  You’re here.  That’s all I need.”  Buffy answered, squeezing and then releasing his hand as he led her through to the bedroom.  She couldn’t help but notice that the bed was a little small, but that just meant closeness would be called for.  That fact coupled with the satin sheets that met her fingers when she bent to turn down the bed combined to create a deeply wicked smirk that she turned on Spike.

He gave her the sweetest grin in response—no trace of snark or innuendo, just pure masculine joy stemming from having a beautiful woman by his bed—and she shivered with lust.  This time was going to be different, she knew—more meaningful than any of the other times they’d had sex—but that didn’t mean that she didn’t know what she was in for.  She had very vivid memories of what was awaiting her, and they set her on fire. 

And then suddenly, inexplicably, she was nervous—so nervous that she could hardly stand. She pressed her hand against her stomach, wondering at the fluttering that seemed to have taken it over, and caught Spike’s worried glance out of the corner of her eye.

“Just….nervous, I guess.”

“This is somethin’ new for us, yeah?” he asked, almost blushing and looking up at her through his lashes as he focused his gaze on his boots.  And just like that, she was over it.  He was at least as nervous as she was, if not more so.  Whatever happened, they were in this together.

“Well, we are starting out in a bed this time.  That’s definitely new,” she teased, delighting in the boyish grin that lit up his face as he raised his head again and met her eyes.

“I had sex with Harmony.”  *What the fuck? *  The sentence was out before Spike could stop it, and it had certainly not been what he had planned to say.  From the look on Buffy’s face, it wasn’t exactly what she had planned to hear, either.

*O-kay.  Not what I was looking for there. *  Buffy just stared at him, blinking.  His eyes were impossibly wide, and it was clear he had no idea what to do now.  What was that supposed to mean for her?  What exactly was she supposed to say?  “Um… I’m sorry?”

“Buggerin’... Buffy, I have no idea why I just said that, but I guess it bears the tellin’ before…” he gestured helplessly to the bed.  “Know the more annoying of the whelps probably told you most of this on the plane, but he didn’t know everythin’.  You need to know, and I need to tell you all this anyway, luv…might wanna sit for a bit.”

Once Buffy was seated, Spike started pacing in front of her.  “I was a bloody haunt when I came poppin’ out of that bauble I wore in the hellmouth—couldn’t touch, couldn’t taste, couldn’t do anythin’ really ‘sides hauntin’ Peaches, an’ I kept fadin’ in ‘n out—one of the Wolfram and Hart resident spooks tryin’ to send me to hell in his place.  Tried to leave, to find you, but every time I got to the city limits I got yanked back to that place.  You were the first thing I asked about, luv… wanted to know if you were OK.  All the Poof would tell me was that you were in Europe, that you were fine.  That you didn’t really—that you didn’t really love me—didn’t even care about me.  That’s been a recurring theme,” Spike added in a tight whisper. 

His pacing, while giving him an outlet for the tension coursing through him, caused him to miss the look of pure murder that crossed Buffy’s face at his last revelation.  Spike might not have believed her declaration in the hellmouth, but Angel knew better—she had told him Spike was in her heart, and she had told him more than that when she had called to tell him where they had all ended up after the smoke had cleared from the battle with the First.  That he’d broken Spike’s heart on purpose by hiding what he knew, and by extension broken hers also, simply hardened her heart a bit more against her first love.  The more she discovered about Angel, the more she doubted she’d ever really known him at all.

Spike had stopped in front of her when he noticed that she had gone completely still, her face getting angrier by the moment.  He wasn’t entirely sure what had done it, but he thought it had been the bit about Angel and what he’d said.  Seeing the cold fury on her face gave him a warm feeling in his stomach—one more proof that she was apparently willing to take on hell itself for him.  He waited until she looked up at him and gave him a reassuring smile before he continued, returning to his laps around the room as well as his story.

“He hadn’t told anyone here ‘bout you ‘n I—not that that was a surprise—or ‘bout the soul; ‘s far ‘s they were concerned I was still an evil vamp for the stakin’.  Even once they knew they still weren’t real welcomin’, an’ I just kinda wandered about.  Fred… the bird whose body Blue’s wearin’… she was kind, kept me sane… tried to help me get m’body back.”

“Which explains why you’re so close with… what’s her real name?  Blue?”

“Name’s Illyria, luv, but yeah.  She’s not Fred—anyone could tell that—but she’s what’s left of a right nice bird, so yeah… got a bit of a soft spot for her.  ‘Sides, she’s good fun all on ‘er own, once you’ve learned her a bit.”  

“So if Fred couldn’t get you back, how did you get all touchable again?”

“Still not right sure, pet.  Box shows up in the mail one day for me, open it up, flash of light and there I am, a real boy again.”

“And that’s when you and Harmony…?”

“Yeah,” Spike sighed, unable to meet Buffy’s eyes.  *Way to let her down, ponce.  Undying love ‘til you shag some other bint. *

“Why don’t you let me try to… see if I can figure out what you’re telling me?” Buffy asked calmly, and Spike was just certain that a storm was just raging beneath.  Would be just his luck if all that fury she had going for Angel had just transmogrified into righteous indignation at him.  Still unable to meet her gaze, he nodded.

“You, the most physical person of anybody I’ve ever known, were stuck not able to touch, taste, or feel anything.  Once you finally could, I’m willing to bet the first thing you did was eat, am I right?” she asked, putting her hand under his chin and gently forcing his head up to meet her eyes.  He nodded slightly, confirming her suspicion, and she moved her hand back. 

Confused by the… was that really understanding?… in her eyes, he couldn’t look away again.  Instead, he watched her closely, trying to figure out exactly what was happening.

“Once you’d eaten, you realized there was something else you hadn’t done in what I’m sure felt like forever.  You didn’t know where I was, didn’t have much hope of finding me or of me caring if you did, and you were, well, horny, right?”

“Uh-huh.” Spike said, eyebrow raised, waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Any minute now.

“So Harmony’s there.  Harmony your ex, who’s familiar and who you know you can get into bed with not much more than a smile, so you go for it.”

“Well… yeah.”

“Okay,” Buffy said brightly.

“What?” Spike asked, looking at her like she’d very much been replaced by the Buffybot.

“I said okay, Spike.  I’m not happy about it, but I get it.  You used somebody because you wanted to feel.  Not the best move, but understandable.  Been there, too, remember?  Do it again and I will so kick your ass, but I’m giving you a pass on this one because of ghostiness and confusion and my asshole ex.”

“Uh-huh.”  Spike stared at her, far from convinced.  “And you’re sure you’re Buffy.  Not feeling, well, programmed at all?”

“Spike, if you don’t get your ass over here right now, the only program you’re gonna see is the Buffy punches annoying bleached vampire program.  Now come here and make with the smoochies, dammit!  Unless you wanna tell me you ‘shagged’ Angel, too?” she added with a wicked grin.

“Bite your tongue!” Spike gasped, absolutely horrified.  The look on his face was priceless, and Buffy couldn’t stop the attack of giggles that doubled her over.

“Nothing better I could do with it?” Buffy finally replied innocently, her giggles gone as she took a step towards him.  It was the look in her eyes that gave the depths of her desire away and that damn near brought him to his knees.

“Can think of a thing or two I’d rather you do with it, luv.  Got any suggestions yourself?”  Spike swaggered the rest of the distance between them, placing his hands on her hips and pulling her towards him.

“Well, how ‘bout I start like this?” Buffy asked, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning up to brush her lips against his.  Running her tongue along his bottom lip, she smiled to herself when he groaned and opened his mouth, allowing their tongues to touch and tease each other slowly.  It seemed like they’d had every kind of kiss over the course of their relationship, and they’d covered most of those bases again tonight.  Still, this one seemed somehow different.  They lost themselves in each other as the kiss deepened, becoming more passionate but never crossing the line into rough—there’d be time enough for that later, but this was their fresh start.

Spike slid his hands slowly up from Buffy’s waist to her breasts, teasing and tickling along her sides as he covered the distance.  When he cupped one gently and flicked his thumb across the tightened nipple, Buffy’s mouth broke from his in a gasp.  Taking advantage of the distance, he slid his hands quickly back down to the waistband of her thin t-shirt, sliding it up and off.  It was his turn to gasp when he realized that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and he raised his scarred eyebrow in question and teased, “Naughty little kitten, aren’t we?”

She smiled back coquettishly.  “It’s in my purse.  I took it off in the parking garage when you went around to get in the car.”

“Beautiful, wonderful girl, you are,” Spike answered, grinning and moving back to kiss her.  Their lips touched again, and Buffy allowed the kiss to deepen and continue until she felt Spike’s hands on the button of her jeans.  She waited until he had unbuttoned them and lowered the zipper before she pulled back and pushed his hands away.  He looked at her, confused, until she gripped the hem of his own shirt and began dragging it upwards.

“It’s only fair, you know… I show you mine, you show me yours?”  She tugged the garment up to his neck before he finished what she had started and stripped it off over his head.  Once her hands were free from the task of baring his chest, she found her fingers tracing first his nipples and then every plane and cut of his abs, slowly moving lower and following the line of his hipbone down to the low waistband of his jeans.  Sliding her fingers along the top of the denim and feeling his muscles tense under her hand, she again worked the button and zipper, leaning forward to brush her tongue along first one nipple then the other.  The low growl she received in response made her smile, and she moved lower, allowing her tongue to retrace the path her fingers had just followed.  The growl intensified, and she suddenly found her feet no longer touching the ground as she was lifted into a tight embrace and then lowered carefully to the bed.

Spike knelt before her, sliding his hands slowly up the backs of her legs, over her ass, and around to her hips, curling his fingers around her pants and dragging them slowly down her legs, catching her panties along the way.  Buffy whimpered at the exposure, raising her hips slightly, and Spike leaned forward and traced his tongue lightly around her bellybutton.  He chuckled hoarsely against her when she moaned in protest and raised her hips a bit more in another wordless plea.  Rather than give in to her demands, he slid further up her body, cupping her right breast as he licked and nibbled gently on her left.  His tongue flicked first gently and then a bit more roughly against the rosy pebble-hard flesh, tormenting her with the variations in pressure until she bucked against him and her hands threaded through his hair. 

Her tiny whimpers were fast becoming louder moans, and he replaced his mouth with his hand on her left breast as he teased his way across her chest with teeth and tongue to pleasure her right.  Her hands tightened in his hair to hold him to her as he continued the blissful torment of her right nipple, and her legs wrapped around his waist as she ground herself against him, circling her hips in figure-8 movements.  Her moans increased steadily in volume as the rough denim rasped over her clit, and her hands slid from his hair to wildly caress his face, neck and shoulders in short, random strokes. 

He could tell by her responses that she was perilously close to orgasm, and he slid down her body slowly, nipping and licking along the exposed flesh until he reached her sex.  Breathing in the scent of her arousal, so strong now as to be almost overwhelming, he dipped his head and slid his tongue in gentle, torturously light strokes up and down her outer lips, gathering and savoring the moisture he found waiting for him.  Her legs instantly rose to rest on his shoulders, and he ran his hands softly up the silk of her legs while he slid his tongue further into her.  Spike pierced her entrance only slightly before removing his tongue and running it instead along her inner lips and up to her clit.  Closing his lips around the tight bud and nipping it gently before soothing it with his tongue, he moved one hand from her outer thigh to the inner and brushed a few light finger-strokes over the delicate flesh there before easing two fingers inside her passage.

Buffy’s hips shot farther up off the bed as her thighs tightened around his head, and those cues together with her hoarse cry of “Please… Spike” were enough to let him know that she was on the verge of release.  Curling his thrusting fingers inside her, he applied gentle pressure to the soft swollen tissue that greeted them on each pass and intensified his torture of her clit, nipping harder and lashing his tongue against her in random, varying patterns that sent her higher and higher with every touch.  Her hands came down to tangle in his hair, and he closed his lips around her clit one last time, increasing the pressure of his mouth and tongue against the hyper-stimulated little bud. 

He reveled in every gasp, plea, and cry; the more nonsensical and breathless she became, the more he exulted.  All too soon he felt her release begin in the fluttering of her inner muscles around his fingers and the clenching of her thighs around his head, and as orgasm tore through her she tightened so intensely that he found himself frozen in place.  Not content to simply let her come down gently, he took advantage of his captivity, teasing and tasting her into another, briefer release and again savoring every gasp and cry before leaning back gently against the legs that were now bonelessly draped across him.  

Spike stood slowly, staring down at her in utter joy.  As he looked down at her spread wantonly before him, glistening from her exertion with her hair mussed wildly about her, he wondered how he could have ever hoped to continue his life without this.  Never would he have been able to forget her taste, the passion she raised in him that she met in equal measures, the sounds and smells and thousand other elements that made having sex with his slayer a brush with divinity. 

Buffy looked up at him through glazed eyes, drinking in every aspect of him:  the sharp planes and angles of his face, softened by that delectably full lower lip and rounded chin; the flawless ivory skin that covered sinfully taut muscles; narrow waist, flat abs and well-defined hipbones just begging to be tasted.  And under that denim… God, he was even more perfect than the rest of him could suggest.  But the attributes that outshone all others were those beautiful, shockingly cobalt eyes—those eyes that held the key to his every thought and emotion, eyes which opened a window into the heart that was supposed to be dead.  What a miracle the Powers had accomplished, bringing him back to her.  She held her arms out to him, the smile on her face widening when she saw the almost boyish grin that lit up his.

Spike toed off his boots quickly and stepped between her spread legs, dropping down to kneel on the edge of the bed.  Once he was within her reach, Buffy slid her hands down his body to the waistband of his pants and pushed them down as far as she could, unconsciously licking her lips as his erection was freed from the confines of his jeans.  Spike watched, mesmerized, as her tongue traced her lips and was caught off guard when she tugged him forward, pulling him on top of her.  A mutual groan sounded through the room; Buffy reacting to the feel of the cool hardness pressing against her clit, Spike responding instead to the heat and wetness he had never dreamed of experiencing again suddenly pressing so erotically along his shaft. 

Buffy brought her legs up around Spike’s waist and slid her feet into the jeans still wrapped around his thighs, pushing them down his legs until they slipped off his feet to the floor.  The movement of her legs had also worked to settle him between her thighs, and the head of his cock was now perfectly positioned against her opening, close enough to apply an absolutely torturous amount of pressure.  Buffy locked her legs around his waist and brought her arms up to encircle his neck, and their tongues tangled in one more slow, sweet kiss as he pressed his hips forward and slid himself inside her.

Their joined mouths muffled the sounds of their gasps as he pressed forward, stretching the tight walls surrounding him slowly in gentle rocking thrusts until he was fully seated inside her.  Completely surrounded by her heat, he held himself still and broke from the kiss to allow Buffy to breathe.  He closed his eyes for a moment to attempt to rein in the emotions flowing through him with lightning intensity, and felt tears of joy and gratitude burning his eyelids.  Determined to hold them in, to not ruin what was proving in every single instant to be the most beautiful experience of his existence, he squeezed his eyes even more tightly.

Buffy was in ecstasy, head thrown back and eyes closed to better savor every sensation.  Wrapped in Spike’s arms with him buried deep inside her, surrounded by his love and his strength, she was unable to think of a time that she had felt greater bliss.  Her memories of heaven were fading every day, but she was nearly certain that nothing there had ever come close to the glory of this moment.  Sex with him had always been incredible, but to be here with him after he had been miraculously returned to her, to be openly in love with him and loved without bounds in return, elevated the experience to an entirely separate plane.  She felt his arms trembling around her and she looked up at him, noticing instantly how tightly his eyes were closed and knowing instinctively the reason why.  With shaking hands she reached up and brushed her fingers across his sharp cheekbones before pressing a light kiss to each closed eye.

“Open your eyes, Spike… it’s okay.  Be here with me… let me see you…please, let me see you.”

Spike’s trembling increased as she touched his face, and he dropped to his elbows over her in an attempt to stabilize himself.  Her soft kisses and softer words, however, forced him to open his eyes despite his tears, and he looked down to see that hers too were damp and shining.  “This is real…” he said in a choked whisper, and she nodded and rocked her hips gently up against him.

“Keep looking at me, baby,” she requested, locking her eyes on his as he nodded his agreement.  “This is real, Spike… you’re here with me, and I’m here with you… can’t ever let you go again… won’t…” Buffy chanted softly as Spike began to thrust in time with her movements, meeting every lift of her hips with a strong downward thrust.

“So bloody beautiful… never dreamed… never even let myself hope… God, Buffy… never thought I’d see you again… never thought I’d earn this…” Spike answered in heated whispers.  The emotional force of their reunion inspired them to a level of passionate secrecy, each softly spoken word carrying more force than the headiest screams of pleasure.

Their lips met again, tongues melding with increased fervor as the speed of their movements increased.  Spike could feel the quivers that signaled Buffy’s orgasm begin around his cock, and he lost himself in an instinctive rhythm as the clenching of her walls grew stronger.  Her hips rose faster and harder to meet his, his pelvis brushing hard against her clit with every thrust and shooting ardent bolts of pleasure through her.  Their words had long since faded into nonsensical syllables, bits of vows of love and promises of forever occasionally breaking through.

Buffy forced herself to keep her eyes open and locked on his as she came, tightening around him forcefully and trapping him against her with deceptively delicate limbs.  She had never before let him look her in the eye as she orgasmed, because she had feared both what he might see in her while her guard was so thoroughly discarded and the undying devotion she knew she would see in him.  She had nothing to hide now, and she refused to hide from him any longer, so she held his gaze as her eyes glazed over in bliss and her lips parted to issue forth the pants and moans whose ecstatic meaning he had long before committed to memory. 

Spike was transfixed by the look in her eyes, by the gift that she was giving him in her refusal to turn away.  He could see straight to the core of her, and all that waited there for him was unabashedly passionate love.  The revelation intensified his already acute need for release, and his thrusts escalated to almost bruising intensity as he sought his end in her.

Buffy knew exactly how to give him what he sought; she slid her hands down his back until she was cupping his ass, pulling him into her repeatedly as she began to rock harder against him, rolling her hips every time their pelvises touched.  She could tell by the sharp inhale of breath and the tightening of his jaw that he was right on the edge, and she slid her hands back up to hold the back of his head as she rotated her hips one final time.  As she felt the first spasm of his cock inside her, she tilted her head and struck quickly, sinking her teeth into the right side of his neck with all of the strength she could muster, tearing through skin and muscle until the wound began to bleed freely.  Swallowing reflexively as her mouth filled with the coppery fluid, she took four quick but substantial gulps before tenderly licking the wound clean and pulling her head back to meet Spike’s shocked gaze. 

Spike had frozen, lost to rapture, when he felt her teeth rip into his neck in a bite somehow savage and tender all at once.  Despite his lack of movement, his orgasm continued and extended as the unbearably erotic sensation of her taking in his blood sent him into a sudden second release, forcing every trace of his seed out of his body and into hers.  He felt her muscles begin to quiver around him again, and he looked down at her silently, completely stunned.  She looked radiant, flushed and glistening, his blood staining her lips a wicked crimson. 

Buffy smiled up at him, the first twinges of another orgasm responding to his seemingly neverending one.  She held his face between her hands as she met his gaze and vowed in a strong, clear voice, “mine, Spike.  Bound by blood unto eternity.”

Spike’s eyes widened impossibly farther for an instant before he gave her a look so heated it alone could have sent her over the edge.  She watched as his bones shifted, the guise of the demon coming forth, and at the gentle urging of her hands he dropped his head and sank his fangs deeply into the right side of her neck, obliterating all of the marks already there, taking her as his and only his.  Her walls contracted around him as she gasped out his name in climax and he gloried in her pleasure, but even this abandoned to frenzied desire, he was still careful of her welfare.  Taking only a few small mouthfuls, he tore the marks slightly and carefully removed his fangs, rasping his tongue gently across her wounds as he started her healing process.  Spike’s human mask fell back into place as he met her gaze again, and he echoed her declaration in tone and passion.  “Mine, Buffy.  Bound by blood unto eternity.”

His mouth descended upon hers, and she met him with a frenzy that matched his own.  Tongues explored every possible inch of the other’s mouths, and the taste of blood added a deeply primal element to the already rampant passion.  Once the last trace of blood had been removed from lips, teeth, and tongue, Spike pulled back and rested his forehead against Buffy’s.  She slid her hands down along his arms to twine her fingers with his, and they exchanged brilliant smiles as they spoke together the final word of their claims.

“Yours.”