6
Spike watched her hips sway under the thin blanket as she scuttled up the stairs. What the hell was that? He had never had a woman scramble out of his bed that fast. He felt himself growing hard again just thinking about it. He'd never come so hard in his life. He dropped back onto the couch with a groan. He didn't know what the fuck her bloody problem was. He'd taken it bleedin slow as molasses. He had wanted to rip her garments right from her body and smash her into the wall. He'd wanted to bite her and say raunchy things. But instead he'd made her watch him undress her, gave her plenty of time to say no. And it had been shockingly erotic. He couldn't even believe how her innocent eyes had turned him on.

He grabbed the remote and flung himself on the couch, flicking on the telly. The Summers had cable and he settled on an old Monty Python flick. Bloody Brilliant Comedy. But he couldn't concentrate. The way she had tried to get away from him and than kissed him like she was drowning. The way she tasted, all fresh and innocent. How she had givin in to his touch and writhed and moaned and cried out like the vixen she was. No his Buffy never did anything half way.

She had turned on the shower up stairs. Washing him off of her. Bitch. She had wanted it just as much as him. Tugging at his shirt in desperation. Hesitating at the waistband of his jeans. Jesus she had been hot, grinding her hips against him without even realizing it. Sliding her innocent hands up to cup his bum. Rotating her hips while she rode him, who had taught her that? He lay back on the couch; unzipping his jeans and bringing his already rock hard cock into his hand. He stroked himself slowly remembering the way she had tried to stop him from tasting her, and than how she had bucked against his face, calling his name and shaking.

He increased the pressure on himself and stroked a little faster, thinking of being inside her. She had been almost virginal tight and sopping wet, and incredibly hot. And the breathless little sounds she had made, escalating into full blown moans and cries. And than calling his name desperately, clinging to his shoulders, convulsing around his cock. He came quickly, milky sperm covering his hand and stomach. He glanced around looking for something to clean himself off with and saw some Kleenex on the table next to his head. Making quick work of it he zipped himself back up and sighed with contentment.

His Slayer however was irritated and embarrassed. He could feel it so strong through the bond that he almost went up to check on her and than stopped himself. He was the Big Bad not a soddin nursemaid and there was a good flick on the telly. She stomped around upstairs. He heard a drawer slide open and realized with a start that he was in game face and that's why he could hear so well. But he didn't push it away. There was silence for a minuet out side of her heartbeat and her breathing and than a small click. Putting something down? And than the rustle of covers. Bloody Hell, she was getting into bed.

Wonder what she's wearing? His mind conjured up sexy visions of leather and lace and he shook his head. More like those filmy pajama's she had on earlier. He listened to her toss and turn and sigh. A thudding sound, possibly pounding her pillow. The credit's rolled for Monty and he flipped through the channels. God he was listening to every sound she made and he ought to be thinking of Dru. Bloody Bitch. Messing around with a Chaos Demon and than a Fungus Demon. Wonder if she's shacked up with anyone today? When he got this Slayer mess sorted out he was going to show her who she belonged to. Starting with slaughtering whatever loser she had attached herself to. God he hoped she was alright. Dru wasn't always as worried about things like sunlight as she ought to be. And she had a thing for Churches.

He suddenly smiled. Soap Channel was playing this weeks Passions. He crossed his feet at the ankles and settled in for a good watch. Hours till sunrise and his Slayer would throw a right fit if he went hunting. Not to mention he didn't want to risk being seen like this by anyone demonic. Especially Dru. Was the only thing that kept him from going out and finding her and dragging her back to lock in the basement. She was already raging about him tasting like ashes and blinded by sunlight. Must have known he'd end up shagging the Slayer and wantin more.

She was turned on again he realized with a start, his cock growing hard. He could feel it through the bond. Was she thinking about him? Was she touching herself? Fuck, What a Bleedin' ponce he was. He ought to just go up there and take care of business. He shifted on the couch and tried to concentrate on the telly. Cursing he got up and stalked into the kitchen. Little munchies to distract him. He grabbed a bag of chips off the counter and flopped into the armchair. Which reminded him of the fantasy he'd had of her there and he jumped up swearing. Then kicked the couch, which hurt with his bare foot. Bleedin Tragic he was. He sat down on the couch and ripped open the chips, Doritos’s, and began to snack. These things were actually pretty damn good. Wonder if the Summers had any Scotch. Highly unlikely.

He rolled up the bag and put it on the coffee table and went out to his car. He rummaged around in the trunk; shoving aside a bottle of bourbon, he found the scotch. Her scent assaulted him and he turned to see her there in the doorway, all tousled from bed. She was wearing some silky robe thing that skirted her thighs, a cream color. Didn't hide much. She wasn't wearing any makeup, her eyes wide and innocent without the smudge of darkness making her look Smokey. Her lips ripe like plums. "What are you doing?" She asked sharply, snark in place. Must have heard him leaving.

He held up his Scotch. "Drink?"

She wrinkled her nose in that adorable childlike way he liked and shook her head. "A World of No!" She turned around and went back in leaving the door ajar for him. The back of the little robe brushed her thighs, her tight little bum outlined by silk. He slammed the trunk and followed her in the house, kicking the front door closed behind him. She was already half way up the stairs. Was she coming on to him, because that robe left next to nothing to the imagination. Especially since he'd seen all he needed to fill in the blank spots. "Bloody Fucking Hell!" he cursed twisting the cap off and drinking strait from the bottle. It was hot. Fuck! He grabbed a glass and fished some ice out of the freezer.

So the Chit was an incredible fuck. Bollocks! So he wanted her again without excuse of his demon. Big Fucking Bloody Deal. Who wouldn't want to encore that little spitfire? So it was wrong to lust after the Slayer, he was evil and delighted in all things wrong. They might be trying to figure out a way to end it but until they did she was his. Might as well enjoy it, because tomorrow they would fight about Blood. Or maybe be enemies again. He drank deeply and went back to the couch, sprawled out and watched his soap. She was tossin and turnin in bed again. Wonder if she'd stake him if he opened her pretty veins again. Her blood sang to him, just a soft tune tonight, he was sated. But by tomorrow night it would be pounding in his head. The credits rolled and he reached out and clicked the off button. He drained the rest of his drink and ghosted up the stairs.
He would have known which room was hers even without her heavy scent. He could just sense her presence. The door was ajar and he pushed it open. She lay on her side, her long golden legs all tangled up in the blankets, only giving him a glimpse of tawny skin. She was wrapped around her pillow and her eyes were closed. She was pretending to be asleep. As if he couldn't smell her arousal. Hear her wild heartbeat and uneven breathing. Feel her uncertainty and nervousness. It was past Midnight, Sunday than. No School. Did the Slayer attend Church? She was unnaturally still and he smiled watching the rapid rise and fall of her chest. Didn't want to admit she wanted him here so she pretended to sleep so she wouldn't be forced to kick him out because of her pride. He could understand Pride.
He considered pulling his jeans off, he usually slept nude, but with a twinge of self disgust for caring he remembered how shy she was. So Without further thought he slid into her bed and scooted under the covers with her. She stiffened but he ignored it and snaked his arm around her pulling her close to his body. "What are you doing?" She asked sharply, same tone from earlier. Wasn't able to keep her pretty Gob Shut.
"Going to Bed." She sat up and scooted back against her headboard. Giving him a glimpse of the little silk top she wore. The flimsy material molded to her pert little titties. She must know how she was turning him on.
"You aren't sleeping here!" She squawked. "Go downstairs."
"My Demon needs you close Summers." She opened her mouth, closed it, and than opened it again. "You haven’t been able to sleep either Goldilocks, it's only for one bleedin' night. Tomorrow we'll have this all sorted out and I won't want to be around you anymore."
"This is insane, you are not sleeping in my bed!" She scooted over further and lay back against her pillows, putting her arms along her sides, cocooning her body beneath the blanket. "Go downstairs or I'll lock you in the basement." Before she could realize what he was up to he grabbed the blanket and tossed it to the floor. She had on a cream little set of silk pajamas. A sleeveless little number that came to just above her belly button and a pair of silk shorts that rode high on her thighs with little slits up the side. She sprang up to a sitting position and shouted. "Hey!" Then she grabbed for the blanket, giving him a wonderful of her backside before she clutched it to her.
"This isn't about me sleeping here Slayer. You're afraid you won't be able to keep your hands off my tight little body." The Slayer jumped out of her bed and fumed by the bed.
"You are so delusional Spike! We were under a spell thingy! Trust me, now you don't even have a chance!"
He cocked his head to the side and looked her up and down. Which made her seethe with rage. Taunting the Slayer was so much more fun than the telly. "S'that Right?"
She nodded her pert little head "That’s Right."
Spike Pulled himself to his knees, legs spread on the bed. Leaving little to nothing to the imagination. She flushed a lovely shade of pink. "So you never got hot and bothered around me before tonight?" She was even more fun to bait than the great Poof.
"What are you talking about?" She snapped.
"I'm a Vampire, Slayer. I know every time your panties soak through. And I can't think of a single fight we've had that wasn't spiced with the sweet scent of your arousal." The outraged look on her face was just priceless. "In point of Fact..." She punched him in the nose sending him sprawling on the floor. He leapt to his feet in game face and squared off against her. She had jumped to her feet as well, no longer ashamed of her clothing as she held up her cute little fists. She didn't hold them quite right; you'd never guess that she could actually throw a punch. He reached out and grabbed the edge of the mattress sending her toppling and squealing to the floor on the other side of the bed. Now she was right brassed off. He vaulted the bed to land opposite her in time to jump hastily in order to avoid her flying feet. Than she nailed him in his abdomen as he was staring at the flash of panties he saw when she kicked out at him. Bint ought to Slay in that little number; Vamps would be too distracted to fight back...Kind of like him now.
She flipped to her feet and came at him fists flying. She managed to get past him with two punches, but neither connected well. ”Tell me Slayer, I have to know." She kicked him into the wall and the drywall cracked. She wasn't going to be happy when she noticed it. He picked her up by her arms and tossed her into the door gaining him a minute to snark, and to ogle the delightful bounce of her breasts under that bitty excuse for a top. "Is it all Vampires that get you revved up, or is it just me?"
She came at him, fists flying, hair wild, eyes flashing. Sweet Mary mother of Jesus she was a sight. "Vampires" Punch, he blocked. "Do" Punch, He blocked again. "Not" Punch, Ouch. "Get" Punch, he dodged. "Me" She Punched, Ouch again. "Hot!" And she slammed her foot into his ribs sending him flying back at least three feet, where he tripped over the sprawled mattress. In a split second she was on him, straddling his middle, hand drawn back to stake him. But she had no Stake. He couldn't help the startled laugh that escaped his lips, his demon slipping away leaving him with human features.
"Going to slay me with Air Pet?" She glanced at her hand with such a genuine look of surprise and than blew his mind when she laughed too. A sweet honeyed sound that he didn't hear too often, and never directed at him. Something shifted and softened inside him, his hands came up to grip her hips and he smiled at her. And she smiled back. Finally she got off him and he climbed to his feet.
"You ruined my bed!" She wailed, hands on hips. "Help me fix the mattress." He didn't even realize that he had simply bent to her will until they were straitening up the covers and he suddenly stood up stiffly, horrified. He could deal with Protective, and possessive, and maybe even fondness because of the bond they shared. But he'd be damned if he would allow himself to start having fluffy soft feelings and let her lead him around by the nose. Spike was no one's lap dog! If he did something for her that was one thing, but not because she told him to. This was unacceptable. Fix the bed Spike, Yes mistress, whatever you Say Mistress. Bloody Buggering Hell! "What?" She asked.
He turned on his heel and left the room, stomping down the stairs. He threw himself down on the couch and closed his eyes. Willing sleep to come even though it was at least two hours till dawn. Fuck! The Watcher had best have a way to sort this out on the morrow because the affection he was feeling for Buffy while she was sprawled on top of him laughing earlier crossed the line. He couldn't blame that completely on the bond. It was genuine. And that was very very frightening. Bloody Hell! And still he found himself listening to the sound of her climbing back into bed.
7
There was a soft knock at her door. Buffy ignored it and pulled the pillow over her head. Granted she had slept most of the day before but between the blood loss and the mating she was exhausted. The door creaked open and Willow softly asked if she was awake. She groaned and turned away from the door huddling, deeper into her pillow. "Come on Buffy, wake up. Giles found some things and he wants to try breaking the bond when the sun's at its peak. It's an opposite power slot from the one Drusilla used. Buffy?"

Buffy groaned and rolled over. Spike was sound asleep, downstairs somewhere. All she felt through the bond was a restless edge. The same she had battled with last night. If she had let him sleep in her room, at least near her, she probably would have slept better. Stupid Bond. Stupid Vampires. Her and Magic were just unmixy things. Why did this creepy stuff always happen to her? Oh yeah because she was the "Slayer". Being the Slayer sucked. She finally braved the world outside her cocoon and peeked over the top of her pillow to spy Willow standing awkwardly at the end of the bed. "Was it so awful to have Spike here last night? He was being creepily nice to you, did he get under your skin?"

"Oh God!!!" Buffy moaned and hid under the pillow again. She didn't even want to think about it. Under her skin was a major understatement. Try fucking him on the couch, losing complete control over her body and emotions, and than laying up most of the night thinking about it. As if actually sleeping with an un-souled evil Vampire that she really didn't know that well wasn't bad enough, she wanted to do it again. She had never had any experience like that before; she thought that kind of thing only happened in Romance novels. Neither of her sexual experiences had even come close to the myriad of pleasure she had experienced with Spike. She hadn't believed that sort of passion existed. And she felt horribly guilty, not only because she had slept with him and liked it, but because it had been far better than what she had felt with Angel. And she loved Angel. She felt like she was betraying him even though he had left her. And who sleeps with two Vampires? What kind of Slayer sleeps with her mortal enemy? She groaned again as tears leaked from her eyes. She was a Vampire Slut!

"Buffy?" Willow asked softly setting down on the bed. "Are you OK? Did Spike do something? This whole thing must be majorly weird. You want to talk about it?" Wiping her eyes on the pillow Buffy sat up and gave her friend a wobbly smile. There had been a time when she might have told Willow what had happened. And she still might. But she had grown up a lot in high school. The hell mouth can do that to a girl. And this was something she wanted to sort through in her own mind for a while before she shared it with anyone. Figure out how she felt about it before she let anyone else's opinion in.

"No, Spike kept mostly to himself last night." It wasn't precisely a lie, majority of the night he did sit downstairs and watch TV. "This whole thing is just messing with my head and I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. So Giles found a cure huh?"

"Not exactly. I better let him tell it." Willow smiled and than stood, patting her leg. "I'll let you get dressed; you can't go downstairs in that." Buffy looked down at her outfit and blushed, remembering how Spike had ogled her in it.

"Most of my conservative jammies are at the dorm and I spilled something on my Yummy Sushi ones yesterday." Willow just nodded and walked out, closing the door behind her. She hadn't spilled anything on her pajamas, but she had been so turned on by Spike that her crotch had been slightly damp. She wasn't about to wear them again, not until they were washed, at least twice. She got out of bed and walked to the mirror looking herself over harshly. She looked pale and wane. Her roots were showing and her hair was lanky. The angry redness had faded from her bite mark and by tomorrow it would look like an old scar. Spike had bitten her directly over Angel's bite mark. How he could see it in the dark she didn't know. Did it mean anything? Probably some sort of pissing contest that she wouldn't really understand. She didn't even want to think about how Angel was going to react to this new situation. Well that settled it; everybody was going to wait while she put herself together. Because she didn't want to scare anyone with the monster staring back at her in the mirror. So she snuck down the hall to the bathroom and took care of necessities. Including brushing her teeth and washing her face. And then snaked back to her room.

She dressed carefully. Why did she have so many sexy pairs of underwear? Why didn't she have any Granny panties? Finally she chose a red lacy panty set with light padding in the bra. Wasn't like he was going to see them anyway. Nope, she was clothing girl.

It was too hot for a scarf or a turtleneck. So she chose a flattering red shirt with a vee neckline. The choice of said shirt had nothing to do with the fact that Spike seemed to like red. Her Cross Choker was red. She decided against a skirt. If she had to kick Spike she didn't want him goggling at her panties again. Yes she had seen his eyes glaze over in that way that men do when they think naughty thoughts. And in a strange twisted sort of way she was pleased that she was learning to read his expressions and moods. And all of her shorts were ridiculously short; she didn't want him staring at her legs. So she settled for a simple pair of five pocket jeans and frowned when she put them on. Were they too tight? Did she own any jeans that weren’t tight? And really did it matter, she wasn't going to change the way she dressed for crying out loud! She dug out her chain link belt and carefully adjusted her choker so it hid her bite mark. Then sat at her vanity and carefully erased all signs of exhaustion with the miracle of make-up and brushed her hair till it was shiny once again. Than she completed her look with her favorite low cut ass kicking boots, black leather went with everything.

She stood in front of her mirror for several long minutes. She was going to have to face him. She fought for composure. She would act like nothing happened. The living room was empty except for Spike, who was sprawled out face down on the couch in nothing but his jeans. An empty bottle of Scotch, an empty bottle of Bourbon, and an empty Doritos’s bag graced the coffee table. She winced at the claw marks on his back. Her fingernails had done that and she hadn't even realized it. Oh God. The gang must have seen them. Maybe they would assume Dru had made them. Of course they would. And why even the thought of Dru touching him, marking him, made her stiffen with jealousy she didn't know. In a hundred years he must have made love to her a thousand times or more. Her eyes darted around the room and she cringed again. Spike's Duster, his shirts, her shirt and bra all over the floor by the wall. She raced over snatching up the clothes. She stuffed her items in the cushions of the chair and than laid Spike's things over the back of the couch. She also hid her jeans out of sight but she couldn't find her panties.

It was too late anyway. Xander would only see what he wanted to see, and it wouldn't occur to Willow, she was still very much the innocent that she had met years ago. But Giles. Giles knew. He knew Drusilla scratches would have healed with the slayer blood and he knew what clothes all over the floor meant. They must be in the kitchen but she couldn't face them. She watched him sleep and thought about waking him up so that she wouldn't have to face them alone. He was the very picture of debauchery. Passed out drunk, half naked. One arm dangling to the floor, head resting on his other arm. His skin all creamy, even in this relaxed state his muscles were so hard that each one was clearly defined. His jeans rode low on his hips and fit him like a second skin, molding his tight little behind and his long graceful legs. As muscled as the rest of him she had found. His hair was mussed into little curls that gave him the sexy bedroom look. His face was turned to the couch so all she got was a profile of cheekbones, defined jaw line. Drusilla had good taste for a crazy lady; she had chosen the perfect specimen to be her sex toy for all eternity. Buffy sighed and turned, she didn't need anyone to stand beside her, she was the slayer after all. And her friends came barreling into the room. Thank God they hadn't caught her ogling.

Xander and Willow were laughing, balancing pizza boxes and books. Giles was more subdued and didn't quite meet her eyes. She suddenly wished she had woken Spike so he could put on a shirt. "Buffy you’re up! I am the Pizza God, I come bearing gifts!" Xander sang happily depositing his armload on the coffee table, Willow right behind him. All the noise disturbed Spike even in his drunken state and he rolled over onto the floor with a thump. Without opening his eyes he blindly fumbled up on the couch with one hand till he found the blanket and pulled it onto his face. Xander lost his cheery mood. His eyes sharpened with dislike and his lip curled into a sneer. Buffy headed him off.

"Spike, get up. Pizza's here." She stepped over him and flopped onto the couch, opening one of the boxes and helping herself to a slice.

"Can smell it Slayer" Spike mumbled and she giggled. Oh God, she had giggled. There was something wrong with her in a big way. Good thing they were breaking this bond today so that she could Dust Spike and get on with her pathetic life. Willow stepped over Spike to sit by her but Xander sat stiffly in the chair, unwilling to come even that close. Giles set down his books as well and grabbed a slice of Pizza, but remained standing. Also unwilling to sit so near to Spike. Spike rolled over groaning and stumbled to his feet, glaring bleary eyed around him. Buffy hid her smile and silently handed him his tee-shirt from off the back of the couch. He took it and stumbled into the bathroom with none of his usual grace. The shower came on. Giles sat on the end of the couch and the four of them ate in a silence broken only by the Bloody Hell! That filtered out of the bathroom. Finally Buffy sat her last crust down on the empty box and turned to Giles. "So what’s the Up?"

Giles looked up and met her eyes with resolve. "Well, I found no reference to the mating bond in my texts." His voice held an edge. Things that were not in his books were not as real to him as things that were. "So we researched Siring. Without learning much more than I already knew." The shower shut off. "There are ways to break the Sire bond. Death of course, the Sire can also be challenged and willingly release the bond to the winner, this involves blood play and the bond has to be transferred it can't just be released." The door opened and Spike ghosted into the room. She didn't think the others were even aware of him he was so silent. "We found two separate Spells that could be used to break the bond; one of them would cause the death of said Sire and would require a live human sacrifice. The other had references to some cases of insanity in both parties."

Giles took off his glasses to polish them and noticed Spike with a start. "There are other spells, unrelated, that deal with psychic bonds and telepathy. Mostly these references deal with creating such bonds. It's dark magic, usually fitting the mold of mind control or slavery." Spike moved into her line of vision. He was still barefoot and his tee-shirt did nothing to hide his muscles. He scooped up a piece of Pizza, bending at the waist. Skin rippling, jeans tightening over delightful parts. Hair still wet, curls abolished. "Willow and I have worked out a reversal to one of these spells, and combined it with one of the Sire Spells. We don't believe the side effects will be overly traumatic and failure will not result in death. The sun will peak in," Giles conferred with his watch "twenty seven minutes; this would be the best time to try it."

"What kind of side effects are we talking Watcher?" Spike asked between Pizza bites. His devil may care persona was back in place. A thin stream of irritation ghosted through the bond but mostly she got wariness and hunger. Oh God, he hadn't fed for two days. She hadn't even thought about it. Maybe she should send Willow and Xander to the butchers to buy Pigs Blood like they used to do for Angel. Maybe it wouldn't come up. Maybe in twenty seven minutes she'd be free of him and he had promised to take Drusilla and leave. She'd expected to feel hate through the bond, if not for her then for her friends, now that he could concentrate on something other then boundless lust. But there was no hate, and occasionally she felt small squashed surges of affection. She felt slightly odd too. When she had thought of Drusilla earlier her hate of the dark haired temptress had faded and she had almost felt a fondness for her. Yep, it was way past time to separate her mind from Spike's.

"I'm not entirely certain." Giles admitted. "Most likely physical sickness, which I believe will be temporary. As well as headache and possible nosebleeds. I am fairly certain that the spell we have worked out will not result in psychological side effects and that the physical side effects will be temporary and preferable to the current state of affairs." That didn't sound entirely pleasant and she could see why Giles had glossed over it. Leave it to Spike to zero in on the loophole. He just grunted and shrugged though, grabbing another slice of Pizza. Giles looked at Willow. "We'd better get things prepared. We're going to use the kitchen since the spell requires a sand circle and the bathroom isn't big enough." Willow nodded, darted a look at Spike and followed Giles into the kitchen. Xander didn't follow, he looked resolute, as if he was protecting her from the Big Bad in her living room. It was almost laughable. But his loyalty was not. She could bite her tongue and not laugh at Xander because he had faced death with her over and over. After a moment of awkward silence the three of them went into the kitchen too.

Willow was concentrating on laying her sand in a wide circle. Much larger than those she usually drew. Giles was placing lit candles around Willows circle in a careful outer circle. Red Candles. Fat one, Skinny One. Fat One, Skinny one in a pattern. She'd never understood how the color of a candle or the thickness of a candle or how the candles were come by made such a difference. Sometimes Willow had to make her own candles for spells and sometimes she bought them. But a stolen candle was supposed to very dangerous to the castor. Willow finished her circle, carefully checking that there were no breaks and than stepped out and began placing white candles in a third ring around the first two. Giles finished with the red and began to light the white ones. It was going to take forever to get the dripped wax off of her mother’s shiny floor.

Spike was standing too close to her. His front millimeters from touching her back, but she found it strangely comforting and didn't want him to step away. Despite Xander’s glare. After a moment of starting Xander seemed to realize that they were aware of it and looked hastily away. Giles checked his watch again. "Spike, Buffy, you'll both sit in the circle. No weapons." Buffy began to step over the rim and Giles grabbed her arm. He got a low growl in warning from Spike but ignored it. "Your cross is a weapon Buffy." She wished she had worn her other choker, she didn't want Spike to see her bite mark. But there was no hope for it now so she reached up and removed the strap of velvet around her neck and put it in Giles hand. She felt another burst of possessiveness from Spike and shook her head to clear it, climbing into the circle, careful of the candles. Spike stared at her for a moment before starting suddenly and pulling a switchblade from his pocket. And than surprisingly a cross of his own suspended on a heavy gold chain from his other pocket. He handed them both to Giles, careful only to handle the chain. She wanted to ask about it, but that would imply an intimacy that they didn't share so she kept her mouth shut as he climbed in opposite her and sank gracefully into Indian style.

Not wanting to stare at Spike she inspected the sand. Willow had used a shiny blue. She wondered if it meant anything. Probably. Giles killed the lights creating an intimate world with just her and Spike. She couldn't help but look at him. Candlelight danced on his sharp features, the light catching in his eyes, sometimes blue, sometimes dark. "Xander, you'll catch Buffy, it's important she doesn't leave the circle and there is a good possibility that they will both pass out. I'll do the same for Spike. You two need to hold hands." Her head whipped around at Giles.

"What?" She didn't like the shrill sound of her voice. Spike smirked at her but she felt calmness through the bond. No fear from him. He was insane. And she didn't want to touch him. His touch did things to her. Willow answered.

"We need to create a physical circle between you; I'll break it halfway through the spell." Her voice was calm, collected. When she was working magic it was almost like she was a different person. Like a doctor at the scene of the crime. In control and expecting obedience. Spike held out his hands palm up and she reluctantly placed her hands in his. He squeezed them reassuringly and ran his thumb over her knuckles. How a simple touch, in front of all these people, could border on such intimacy she didn't know. It must just be her imagination. He gave her a small smile, with none of his usual mockery and despite herself she found herself returning it. Willow began to sweep around them counterclockwise, her soft voice sing-songing in a gentle chant. Buffy knew from experience this was probably just a protection spell, or blessing the candles, or whatever. Spike's hands were slightly calloused and firm in her own. She found herself wishing that she had put hand lotion on that morning and painted her nails.

She found she couldn't look away. She had let him touch her, kiss her, lick her body. She had let him inside her. She had kissed him back, she had helped undress him, and she had run her hands over his body. And here they sat like the strangers they were. Holding hands. Getting a divorce. How absurd was her life. And she was slightly nervous. Giles usually sounded much more assured whenever he condoned the use of magic. And she had a feeling that his haste in this case was due to the blatant evidence she had left laying around testifying to last nights activities. Spike was nervous too. He didn't show it but she could feel it, feel him trying to fight it down. His tongue ran across the top of his teeth. And a moment later he jerked his head to the side, popping his neck. His eyes never left hers. She felt Xander taking his place behind her and Giles moved up closer to Spike. Willow sat down in her own smaller circle and began to chant in a more monotone voice. Her voice was starker now. And it was so weird, as if everyone else in the room was secondary, and her and Spike were the only one's real.

She felt tingles race up her arms and zoom through her body. Spike's hands warmed and she found herself clutching him harder, unwilling to let go. The candles began to burn brighter, flames flickering uncontrollably. And something wasn't right. This was frightening her. Her nails dug into Spike's hands and he gripped her back hard enough to break a normal person. And she felt the stirring of desperation in both of them. She wasn't going to let him go, they couldn't make her let him go. And than she felt Willow stand and her arm came down in a sharp arc, words pouring from her mouth in a stark yell. And Spike was ripped from her, he was no longer holding her hands, there was a wall between them. She pounded on it with her hands, Spike mirroring her on the other side. Panic was taking her over, her mind was screaming, and she realized suddenly that high pitched shrieks were coming from her mouth. The barrier was invisible but becoming coated with her blood as she tried to get through to him. She would die without him.
She could feel his panic as well and he was yelling something to her but she couldn't hear anything at all over the roar in the room. She heard something shatter. Spike was throwing himself up against the barrier and than up against the circle. Apparently they were blocked in from all sides. They were trapped apart. He sank to his knees, his hands mirroring hers on the glass, eyes wild with his demon. And then a wind swept through the room, blowing out all the candles. The barrier dissolved and the room was suddenly silent apart from her own wails.

Spike gathered her up into his arms, burying his face in her hair and rocking her like an infant. She clung to him and cried. Giles started to step forward, perhaps to comfort her and Spike clutched her closer to him and growled menacingly. It was the soothing feelings she felt coming from him that finally calmed her hysteria. He was still hers, they hadn't taken him away. She subsided to hiccups and closed her eyes, safe with him, where she belonged. He whispered soft words that made no sense to her addled brain but his voice was like a lifeline. She didn't know how long that she sat there before reality began to dawn on her. Why had she acted like that, it made no sense. She felt the stirrings of embarrassment. But she had never been more terrified of anything in her life. She finally raised her head a little sheepishly. They were huddled on the kitchen floor in the dark amidst ruined candles and scattered sand. And they were alone. He met her eyes for a moment, than held up her hands one by one and examined them. They were bruised and bloody from beating against that invisible barrier, his were too she noticed. Just thinking about those long moments of panic stirred her fear again. He rubbed her back in a soothing circle and she laid her head down on his shoulder, letting her eyes drift shut. He would take care of her tonight and she would let him. She couldn't remember the last time she had let someone take care of her, the last time she had had that option. She was the Slayer, and the world rested on her shoulders, but not tonight. Tonight she just wanted to rest.

Spike climbed smoothly to his feet, shifting her weight in his arms. She slipped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his collarbone. Breathing in his soothing scent. She let him carry her into the living room. She heard him and her friends talking, but they're voices seemed far away as she drifted in that haze between asleep and awake.

"How is she?" Giles asked

"She's tired, emotionally exhausted." Spike's voice sounded raw and rough and angry. On her behalf. And that was comforting in a strange twisted way.

"Something interfered with the spell Spike. An outside force. I'm concerned about her mental stability. I hadn't expected her to fight it like that; we had expected you both to pass out. The bond, is it still complete? Do you think she'll be alright?" Spike growled low in his chest, a rumbling they might not have even heard.

"I still feel the same. I think all she needs is sleep Watcher, but I'm not sure." She heard them standing, shuffling. Willow was sniffling, perhaps she had been crying. Xander said something soft to her and the door opened.

"I'm leaving my number by the phone Spike. Please call us if things get worse, or if either of you need anything at all." He hesitated. "I'm sure you don't want to leave Buffy, I left some blood in the fridge, it's human from the hospital." The door clicked softly leaving them alone again and Spike carried her up the stairs. He pulled the covers down, laid her on her bed and then pulled away. Her eyes shot open.

"Where are you going?" Her voice held the tight edge of renewed panic. He mustn't leave her.

"I'm getting the first aid kit for your hands. I'll be right back Buffy, I'm not going anywhere." Good as his word he returned and knelt by the bed. She watched with hooded eyes while he carefully applied ointment and wrapped her hands. He stood and slipped her shoes off her feet one at a time, placing them carefully by the bed. He crossed to her dresser, pulling open two drawers before he found the one with her pajamas and pulled out a lacy slip. He knelt by the bed again. She watched him while he unbuttoned her jeans and than slid them down her legs, letting them fall to the floor. She was too tired to feel embarrassment. Even when his eyes darkened at the sight of her red panties. She let him pull her to a sitting position and pull her shirt over her head. He quickly removed her bra and slipped the nightgown over her head. Sweeping his hand along the back of her neck to free her hair. He bent and placed a gentle kiss right over her bite mark. Than he laid her back down, pulling her gown over her hips and down her legs. He stood again, whipping off his shirt and than climbed into bed with her, pulling the covers over both of them. She turned into the crook of his arm pushing her face in his neck again. His arms came around her again and she instantly fell asleep.
 

 8
The smell of Slayer blood woke him. Buffy was curled around him, one of her legs between his, her breasts pressed up against him. His face was buried against her neck. He groaned. Her blood was pumping away. Singing to him like the Siren's. He lay there for a minute, struggling with his demon before slowly climbing out of bed. Careful not to wake her. He hadn’t fed. If he bit her now he wouldn't stop and the thought of her cold and lifeless calmed his demon. He needed to hunt. He was down the stairs and almost to the door before he began to worry. What if she woke up while he was gone and she panicked again? He’d only be gone a fucking hour, he'd just eat the first person he came across and be right back. He stood at the bottom of the stairs and agonized. What if she needed him? He had promised he wasn't going anywhere. Fuck! Bloody Hell! Then he remembered that the Watcher had left blood in the fridge. Blood out of a bag, how pathetic was that? He wondered how bad it would taste even as he made his way into the cheery Summers kitchen.

He opened the fridge and grimaced at the dozen bags of blood. Clearly from the hospital, marked with blood type. He grabbed one and frowned at the microwave. It would be better warm. So he tossed it in and put the microwave on for three minuets. He had no idea how long it took for blood to warm. About half way through he got nervous and opened the microwave to check on it. Good thing too because the damn bag was hot to the touch. Too hot. Fuck! He was out of alcohol. He'd had blood mixed with Bourbon often enough, probably wouldn't taste so bad. God he was the Poof! Buffy was domesticating him! No, this was a one time thing. Just until she felt better. Juggling the bag around for a minute, he shrugged, vamped and drained it. Might as well get it over with. It was hotter than it should be but really not that bad. It tasted like normal blood, but it lacked the flavor of the kill, the struggle, the smell of fear. The taste of skin. It was boring. He grabbed another bag throwing it in for sixty seconds and paced until the bell signaled. He drained that one as well, tossing them in the bin. No reason to stay down here, maybe his sweet Slayer would be in the mood to reward him for his good behavior.

He paused at the stairs and than turned to go outside instead. He threw open the trunk and rummaged around for his bag of clothes. Couldn't wear these jeans forever. Needed to wash Slayer blood out of his shirt. He slammed the trunk closed and braced his hands on the back of the car. Fuck. His car had been parked here for two nights strait, if the whole demon community didn't know where he was it was a miracle. Not that he gave a fuck about them, but he didn't want Dru to get wind of it. If she found out he had spent the night at the Slayer's she was as good as lost to him. In point of fact, if he didn't figure out how to cut the Slayer loose she was lost to him anyway. And he didn't have any more booze. He briefly considered just running up the street to the quickly mart. He could eat the girl behind the counter and help himself to some Scotch. But he wasn't hungry and didn't want to leave his Slayer.

He took the stairs two at a time but paused in the doorway to her bedroom. She was sprawled in bed, on her back, arms flung out. He'd only been gone thirty minutes, but his absence had made her restless. One leg was sticking out of the comforter. Golden and impossibly long. His cock grew hard as he stood there for a long stretch just watching her breathe. She was beautiful. All tawny and sweet. Did he want to keep her? Of course he didn't. She was the Bloody Slayer and he hated her. He loved Dru. This tenderness he had for her was just his demon being possessive of his mate. He needed to find a way to end this and get his Dark Princess back. But in the last two days he had barely thought of her. He was more worried than anything else. And by now he should be craving her. But she wasn't who he wanted right now. He wanted a Golden Goddess. And he could have her if he wanted.

He wracked his brain trying to think of a way to fix this whole mess. He had been counting on the Watcher. The man was Bloody Brilliant. He had a Witch at his Disposal and all the resources of the Flaming Council. His spell had flopped in the worst possible way. Spike had felt as if his very Demon was being ripped from his body. And he had never been more desperate and terrified in his life as when he thought he was losing his mate. Made no sense what so ever. After all it's what he wanted. But his instincts took over and he had been frantic to get to her. And Buffy. Human's, even Slayers, weren't built to withstand that sort of trauma. The memory of his girl shrieking and banging her fists on a barrier as solid as the invitation barrier made him shake with rage. He had wanted to kill them all. Rip out their spines and bleed them dry. If Buffy hadn't been absolutely hysterical he would have torn them apart. Starting with the Watcher and ending with the Whelp. Luckily, by the time she had finally calmed down the rational side of his brain had kicked in.

His Slayer would never forgive him if he hurt her friends. She loved them completely without reserve. And if he was honest with himself he knew that they wouldn't willfully hurt her. But would he place his Slayer in their hands again? There was no plan B. He had no idea who to go to for help with this. Once upon a time he would have gone to Angelus, but his soul had changed him and Spike couldn't count on him anymore. When the Poof found out that he had touched Buffy they were going to fight. It was going to be bloody and quite possibly only one of them would walk away from it. Spike intended to live forever. He wouldn't dream of taking his Slayer anywhere near any of the dark wizards that he might be able to wangle a favor from. That left the Watcher and the Witch. If he didn't let them help him than she was his until one of them died. Slayers didn't live long but that thought didn't comfort him. He'd do anything to protect her. And strangely enough he had no desire to turn her either. The bond was with living, breathing Buffy. If he turned her that Buffy would die and be replaced by a demon. The thought made his gut clench and his body shake.

The thought of losing her propelled him into the room. He ignored the voice in his head that told him his problems would be solved if she were gone. He went with his gut and right now it was telling him to hold on tight while he could, and to safeguard her no matter what. He climbed into bed and pulled her body into his arms. Instantly he felt complete. Like he was part of a circle. When she wasn't with him the circle was broken. But now he was content. He buried his face in her hair and breathed in her scent. The feel of her silken skin sliding up against him overwhelmed his senses and he moaned, running his hand down her back to her bum. He turned his head and nuzzled her neck. Then gave into the craving and began to place urgent wet kisses on her skin. He felt her beginning to wake and ran his hands firmly over her silken body and into her hair. Her eyes fluttered open, hypnotizing they were. He kissed her full on the mouth and she kissed him back. Tongues tangling in a dance as old as time. Her body rocked into him in that ancient rhythm and he lost control.

Too much damn clothing between her skin and his. He had to feel her. He tried to slide the silky thing down her shoulders but he couldn't think with his leg between hers, rocking against her heat. And her sweet tongue in his mouth, God she tasted like honey. So he gave up and ripped the damn thing down the front. He could hear himself talking, even as he worshiped her breasts with his mouth. He was intoxicated by her taste, sweetest thing he'd ever had in his mouth. Her hands were tugging at him, as desperate as he was. In his hair, on his shoulders, pulling him closer. She was making those little cries and moans of pleasure and he about came in his pants when she started fumbling with the button of his jeans. "Fuck Buffy, Want to be inside your tight little box so bad baby." He whispered, pulling back long enough to shuck out of his jeans.

He arched off the bed when her hot little hand closed over his cock. "Oh God Yeah, Buffy touch me like that Sweetheart!" She crawled to her knees and began to use her hand to stroke him slowly. "A little harder Slayer, Don't be gentle. Fuck!" Her Golden hair was framing her perfect little body. Proud little titties standing at attention. Her dusty rose nipples were still hard and wet from his ministrations earlier. And those panties of hers were driving him insane. He was about to rip them off her and slip inside when she kissed the end of his cock. He let out a low groan and jerked his hips at the pleasure. She smiled softly with the knowledge of her new found power over him and pulled his cock into her mouth. He was dying again. Her mouth felt incredible, she slowly sank her red cherry lips all the way down and than slowly back up. Her hair was tickling his thighs. And God she was so sexy. He held his hand to her head, careful not to push her down and let himself babble his ecstasy, so she would know how good she made him feel. He felt his balls tighten; he was going to cum hard if she didn't stop. And as much as he would love to shoot in her mouth, he wanted to take her with him even more.

He tightened his hold on her hair and pulled her away from his cock. He gripped her arms and tossed her onto her back on the bed, covering her body with his and smashing his lips to hers. He ripped her panties off her body and pulled her legs around him, sliding home with one deep thrust. She was so hot he thought he might burst into flames. Hot and Wet and so Fucking Tight. He had to growl and clutch her hips to keep from Cumming then and there. She arched up to meet him, clawing at his back and moaning his name. "Spike, Oh God, Spike." She chanted as he pushed into her deep and hard, pulling almost completely out and than all the way back in. Her tight little muscles pulled at his cock so hard that if she hadn't been sopping wet he wouldn't have been able to move at all. She rocked hard with him, her breasts pressing against him, her hips slamming into his. He changed the angle of her hips so that he was brushing up against her clit and she went wild, tossing her head and crying out loudly. Her orgasm hit her hard. Her muscles clamped down around his prick sending him to new heights of pleasure. Then the little hellcat bit into his shoulder to drown her scream and that’s all she wrote. He came so hard that he blacked out.

He came to with his head buried in between her breasts. She was shaking all over and so was he. He shifted his weight off of her and nuzzled her sweet little mounds. He realized with a shock that he was breathing in time with her. He had caught himself doing that more than once. She smelled so fucking good, he was drowning in her scent and her taste. This was his own personal heaven. When he was this close to her she surrounded his senses and he couldn't think about anything else. He was beginning to consider round two, running his hand lazily over her hip and her thigh when he found himself on his back, three feet away from the bed. "What the Fuck is your Bloody Problem?" He roared, jumping to his feet. She pulled the blanket up to cover her body as if he hadn't just had his hands and mouth all over her.

"I told you this couldn't happen again!" She spat. Her hazel eyes flashing in warning. She tossed her head and dared him to challenge her.

"I wasn't in the bleedin' bed alone Slayer!" He growled at her. He stalked back towards the bed, hand rubbing absently over his ribs where her foot had connected. There was nothing gentle about his Slayer. "You wanted it as bad as I did Princess."

"I was half asleep and a wreck from earlier!" She shouted, coming to her knees, clutching her blanket around her. "And don’t call me that!" He snorted in disbelief and crawled across the bed to her, getting up close and personal. "Back off Spike!" She snapped. She was breathing hard, her heart beating so damn fast.

"Your going to have to come up with a better excuse than that Slayer, I don't think you’re even blond enough to believe that load of drivel. And what’s wrong with Princess, you sure like to play high and mighty Luv." He felt the sharp twist of jealousy through the bond and realized with a start what her problem with it was.

"I just don't like it!" She snapped. Of course she didn't. He called Dru that sometimes. He grabbed her and kissed her long and hard. It made his head spin the way she kissed him back in spite of herself. She finally pulled away panting. "Spike, this is wrong, we cannot do this! What about Drusilla?"

"What about her?" He answered and kissed her again, pulling the blanket away from her with a sharp tug and fitting his body against hers. He sat up pulling her in his lap and let his hands run over her slender back. She pulled her head back and let out a little moan. He kissed her throat and her shoulder. Than she spread her knees and sank onto his erection. He jerked his hips in surprise and than clutched her closer, pushing himself in deep. She braced her hands on his shoulders and set a steady pace. It was quick, hard and fast. She came almost immediately, clutching at him sporadically and whimpering, her head buried in his shoulder. Her orgasm triggered his own, waves of pleasure too intense to be real. What was it about this girl that made him react so powerfully? He pulled back to look at her and she met his eyes without fear. That was a big part of it.

"Get out" She almost growled, low and threatening. He flexed his hands at her hips and nuzzled her shoulder while he considered just how much he wanted to defy her wishes. Did he feel like going another round? Even the thought stirred his cock. He began to kiss her neck, giving special attention to his mark. The bite that made her his. He liked seeing it there though he would never admit it to anyone. She twisted against him and made a little mewling sound. She was either going to give in or kick his ass. Either way would be as much fun. It was a powerful feeling, owning a Slayer. The only problem was she owned him back. And he could feel her embarrassment and how tired she was. She needed her rest before she faced her friends tomorrow. Who knew what the Watcher would come up with next. She pushed at him suddenly, breaking contact. "I said Get Out."

It was the almost sound of tears that decided him. He didn't want to make her cry. And he was a bleedin' Ponce for caring. But he couldn't help himself. He kissed her softly on her lips in one final act of defiance before whispering a simple "Fine." He lifted her up off his semi-hard penis and laid her on the bed. She fumbled for her blanket and pulled it around her. It hurt when she turned her head so she wouldn't have to watch him dress. She was all full of embarrassment and shame now. He didn't like that at all. He was half tempted to pounce on her and make her lose control again, make her forget that she thought this was wrong. Bloody Buggering Hell! Why the fuck did it even matter? Instead he pulled on his jeans, grabbed his duffle and left to take a shower. She curled up in bed behind him buried her head in the pillow. Maybe tomorrow he wouldn't care anymore. And if he did he still wasn't sure what to do about her. Even sharing the most intimate of connections his Slayer was still a mystery to him.

9


Buffy lay in the hollow place between asleep and awake. And all was good with the world. She felt safe and warm. And she hadn’t felt safe in a long time. She was surrounded by Spike’s scent and the weight of his strong arms. She was vaguely aware of one leg cast possessively over hers. And it felt right. She had a vague awareness, at the very corner of her consciousness that she should be upset for some unknown reason. But she ignored it and swam in her bliss. Loath to wake fully and bring on the reality of morning.

Suddenly a loud obnoxious blaring filled the room and Buffy groaned at her alarm. Spike leapt to his feet in game face, Scowled at the alarm, and than kicked it clear across the room. It smashed against the wall breaking into wonderfully small pieces and made a delightful crushing noise. Cobwebs cleared from her head and suddenly her destroyed alarm was not in any way amusing. Sure she fantasized about breaking it sometimes, but she needed the damn thing and had set it herself. And also, why was Spike standing on her bed, destroying her things, and cussing a blue streak anyway? He was supposed to be downstairs.

He was staring down at her. He let the demon slip from his face but it didn’t take his predatory expression with it. He was bare from the waist up, sleep tousled and entirely too tasty for her own good. She felt herself blushing as she recalled just how he tasted. “What the Bloody Fuck was that?” He asked, head tilted, eyes a deep shade of blue that she could get lost in.

“What are you doing in my room?” She succeeded in the icy cool tone of voice she shot for and smiled inside. He would not get to her. Today, Giles would figure out how to rid her of this bleached moron and she would never think lusty thoughts about Vampire’s again. Except Angel, because that was as normal as her life got. Vampires, apocalypses, college confusion, and impossible love. Welcome to her world. Still better than being mated to a sadistic soulless creature of the night who knew just how to touch her to make her insides melt and her brain crash.

“I was sleeping! Until that Bleedin’ Siren went off.” He growled at her. She couldn’t help the small smile that graced her lips. “What is that thing, some sort of standard issue Vampire torture device issued to all Slayers on completion of boot camp?” Spike made it easy to forget how old he was, with his energy and leather. But he hadn’t kept time in over a hundred years. She tried to tell herself it wasn’t funny but she couldn’t stop the choked laughter that bubbled up in her chest. He stuck a finger in his ear and wiggled it.

“Yep.” She said, smacking the P sound. “Were planning on getting portable models and hiding them in strategic places throughout the cemeteries.” She giggled again at his outraged face and than he smiled back at her and she stopped laughing abruptly. This was not funny; she was not having a fun moment with a vicious killer. “It’s an alarm clock Spike, I have classes today.”

He frowned at her and glanced at the windows. Even with the heavy drapes the sun filtered through giving them a bit of a glow. “It’s freakishly early Slayer. When the fuck do you sleep?” He was still standing on her bed and the whole scene was just a little too homey for her. She needed to get up and get dressed, but he was standing there just looking at her. His head was tilted to the side, arms loose at his hips. She didn’t meet his eyes; instead she focused on the column of his throat. And that might have been a mistake. Cause she found herself riveted by the hollow in the center, he swallowed and she ripped her gaze away. He met her eyes and she wanted to hit him. He was smirking at her again, he knew. He knew how he affected her. She fumbled in her head for words and some little soft sound came out of her mouth. She tore her eyes away from his so she could concentrate and stared at her bedspread.

“This is when the living are up and about. Every once in a while I like to pretend I’m just one of them.” And where did that come from? She looked up at him in alarm and he sat down next to her. Her body hummed at his nearness but he kept his hands to himself. She needed to lighten the mood. Serious talks with Spike, with vague references to her insecurities, were so Not of the Good. “Can’t take night school, too busy Slaying and Saving the world, and getting bitten.” That came out too serious still. So she gave a small smile, and he mirrored it.

“Being normal is boring Summers. At least your life is exciting. I mean do you really want to hole up with some average bloke, get some boring desk job, and squeeze out a couple of pups?” His eyes were dancing mischievously, he was teasing her. Well two could play at that game.

“Better than being mated for life to a serial killer with a penchant for leather.” He laughed. Not a full blown giggle or anything like that, just a soft chuckle. He turned his head a little and then swiveled his head to look back at her.

“Check and Mate Summers.” He curled his tongue under his teeth in that way of his and she prayed he didn’t notice when her breathing sped up. “So today we figure out how to get divorced huh? You can get back to that normal life of yours. Slaying and College and all that rot.” His sarcastic tone was not lost on her. She tossed her head and tried to give him her haughty stare. She wasn’t sure she pulled it off. She never was as good, as say Cordelia, at that sort of thing.

“College is normal! I live in the dorms and everything. The teachers are condescending, the guys are asses, and the work is impossible. I’m getting the whole normal experience.” He snorted and shook his head at her.

“So that’s why you live in the dorms of a college that’s 2 miles from home, to get that taste of normal, eh pet?” Vampires are not supposed to be perceptive and she found it irritated her. How he got to the heart of the matter so quickly when her closest friends were so wide of the mark. It put her back up, made her bristle. “And who’s been being an ass, want me to eat him?”

“I don’t see why you care anyway.” She hissed at him. Failing miserably at calm and collected. “Like you said we’re most likely getting, how did you put it, divorced today? Than I won’t be your problem anymore and we can go back to trying to kill each other, like normal. I’ll feel heaps better once I dust you.” His skin was as thick as rubber tires. Nothing insulted him. She would have to try harder.

He reached over to her bed stand and grabbed his smokes. He lit one and blew a fat smoke ring. She bit back the desire to tell him he couldn’t smoke in her room. He couldn’t go outside and she would rather he smoked in her room than the rest of the house. Her mom would be home tomorrow and she was bound to smell the smoke everywhere. “There really is no normal, pet. Just a bunch of people running around trying to be like everyone else. They’re sheep Summers. It’s the people who stand out who make the difference.” He blew another ring and leaned back against her headboard. “Truth is people are more accepting of the deviant than you’d like to think. Look at musicians and movie stars. Ozzy bit the head off a Bloody Bat, people ate it up.”

“I heard it was just a rubber bat.” She said lightly. She instantly wanted to smack herself in the head. What was she doing? Sitting in bed having a friendly chat with the resident vampire. She needed mental help. Unfortunately any therapist would throw her into a white padded room and give her a fancy new jacket to wear. “I need to change.” He raised his eyebrow at her and continued to smoke. “You need to leave.” He crossed his feet at the ankles and smirked up at her. She gave him her worst scowl to no effect and climbed out of bed.

She really needed to get some flannel pajamas from the dorm today. Spike inhaled sharply and she scuttled to her dresser, grabbing the necessities and snatching the first dress in her closet before scuttling out the door. Thank God for Slayer speed. She risked a glance at the door and found Spike’s gaze glued to her, his eyes glazed over with lust. She had to force herself to turn away and walk to the bathroom. She refused to run.

She stared at herself in the full length bathroom mirror. He probably thought that she had worn this number for him. Pink satin cups pushed her breasts together, little tiny spaghetti straps held them up. The skirt flared from under her breasts but the length was non-existent. It barely brushed her thighs and was made out of almost transparent silk. You could see that matching panties right through it. If she was honest with herself she felt a surge of feminine pride that she could reduce Spike to speechlessness. God knows that was a rare occurrence. And if she really stopped to examine her motives she knew that there was a possibility that he might see her and it had thrilled her last night when she had put it on.

She closed her eyes and let herself remember the night before. She let the peculiar mix of shame and excitement wash over her as she remembered the way his hands felt on her body. His lips on her skin. He made her feel beautiful and sexy. The way he had spoken to her last night had been beyond erotic. Half sentences of desire. Little growls and moans and the desperate way he had ripped her gown right from her body. Like he needed her beyond all reason. When he touched her he made her feel like she was the only woman on earth and that he would die without her. But she knew that wasn’t true. Knew that Drusilla was who he was in love with, if it could even be called that. Could Vampire’s even love? He had no soul.

She sank down onto the toilet stool and groaned. She had given him head. She had never tried it before. But she had been all caught up in the moment and he had responded so passionately when she had touched him with her hand. Bucking his hips, saying her name and encouraging her. Now she knew why woman gave blowjobs in the first place. Taking him into her mouth had reduced him to babbling, swearing, and begging. “Please Buffy, Oh God Baby, Just like That. Fuck Yeah. Jesus Fucking Christ!” There had been no doubt that she was doing a good job. And it had felt amazing, she had felt all powerful. He was completely at her mercy and had liked it.

This was so not good. What was she thinking? She couldn’t let it happen again. It was beyond wrong. It was immoral. And a betrayal to everyone she loved. Spike had tried to kill them all, more than once. He had no remorse for the thousands of people he must have killed and would kill again the minute he left her home. Probably starting with her and her friends. Had he murdered someone last night? Oh God! The edge of his hunger was gone, even if he wasn’t full. Had he ripped someone’s throat out and than came back and made love to her? No, not making love, sex.

What was wrong with her? How could she want someone so evil? And she did want him. Even listing all the reasons she shouldn’t in her head she couldn’t shake the memory of how he had felt inside her. Filling her up and making her writhe with pleasure. The worst part is that this time she couldn’t say that he had seduced her. She had been a willing participant. She was not going to let him get to her. She was a strong independent young woman. She was the Slayer. She was going to be late for class. She showered and dressed quickly and stared at herself in the mirror. She wished she would have grabbed another dress. This one left an awful lot of skin bare. Not like he hadn’t seen it all already.

He wasn’t in her bedroom anymore. Buffy heaved a sigh of relief and made quick work of her hair and make-up. She didn’t have time to blow dry her long tresses so she just wrapped them up in a pony tail. She stared at her hands. Today she would find time to give herself a manicure. She didn’t look ragged yet, but Slaying was hard on her hands. She dug out a pair of simple yellow sandals to go with her dress and ran downstairs. She was starving. All she had yesterday was a couple of slices of pizza and she hoped her mom had something she could eat on the run.

Something smelled good. She opened the kitchen door with trepidation and smiled. Waffles. That was the smell. Spike was making waffles. “Whadda like on your Waffles Slayer?” He asked. Sincere as could be. It should be funny. Spike cooking, but it wasn’t. He had put the rest of his clothes on. He was wearing a different t-shirt, she could tell because it was faded, and his Doc Martin’s. His hair once again in order.

“Just the usual, Syrup, Butter.” She said even as she opened the fridge and fished out the butter. “Syrup’s above your head there.” He got it out for her and set her plate and the syrup on the bar. He grabbed his own waffle and sat next to her. “Why’d you cook for me?” She bit her tongue even as she said it. He was going to get pissed off or embarrassed. Not that she cared. She didn’t. But as usual nothing bothered him. He just shrugged his shoulders.

“Hungry aren’t you? Everybody likes Waffles.” He covered his plate with syrup and took a huge bite. “It’s good, eat up.”

So she did. And they were. She put her plate in the growing pile of dishes in the sink. She heaved a visible sigh of relief at the sight of a bloody mug on the counter. She had to go, but she found herself paused awkwardly by the door. She had the strangest urge to lean over and give him a kiss goodbye. How weird was that. “Need a ride to school luv?”

“It’s broad daylight Spike.”

“Windows are blacked out.” She bit her lip and thought about it. She was already late. If she called a cab it would take forever for them to get there. Xander was probably working. And it was a long walk. While she was thinking Spike was already getting his duster on and grabbing a blanket from the living room. “Come on than Slayer.” He said as he dashed out the door and to his car. She pulled the door shut behind her and followed him. He let her close her door before he let the blanket fall down.

“How can you see to drive?” He pointed at some small scratches in the paint on the windshield and she groaned. This was probably a very bad idea.

“S’ok Slayer. Vampire vision and reflexes.” She groaned again and he pulled out of her driveway. She buckled her seatbelt tightly and she didn’t talk. She didn’t want to distract him from driving. She had no idea if he followed traffic regulations. She couldn’t see anything. It felt like they were going fast. It had bothered her the other night too but at least than she had known no one else was likely out and about. “This is it Slayer.” He said, the car rolling to a stop. “Need a ride home later?”

Ok that was freakishly boyfriend like. And that was just scary. Everything about this whole situation was just scary. “No, I’ll get a ride. Spike, don’t answer the phone.” She could just see her mom calling and having some strange man answer the phone. Granted for some odd reason she seemed to like Spike, but not that much. He grinned at her and shot his hand out quicker than thought. He cupped the back of her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. His lips were firm and cool, his tongue swept into her mouth and she caught on fire. He unbuckled her belt and she slid across the seat to him. She had to touch more of him.

His tongue danced with hers and her head spun. His muscles were firm and impossibly hard beneath her hands. She heard herself moan into his mouth and bit his lip in retribution. Which made him moan back and clutch at her hips harder. He pulled her onto his lap and she didn’t resist. She let one leg slide over so that she straddled him, the steering wheel pushing her up against his chest. He nibbled and sucked on her bottom lip and she bucked her hips. His hands slid down to her thighs and up under her dress, fingers flexing and caressing. He tore his mouth away from hers and met her eyes. Then rotated his hips against hers. “I want you Summers. Right Now.”

Oh God, she was letting it happen again. “I have to go to class.” She whispered, pulling away from him. She sat in her own seat, a trembling hand pressed to her lips. It must be the mating. That must be why his touch disarmed her so much. Oh who was she kidding, he was an incredible lover. The only problem was that he knew it. She was almost disappointed when he didn’t pull her back. They both knew that if he touched her again she wouldn’t be able to stop. But he seemed content to let her go.

“Best go on then luv, unless you don’t really want to go?” She scowled at him and hopped out of the car, flashing him with sunlight before slamming the door. He yelped and shouted “Bloody Bitch!” She had to restrain herself from asking if he was alright. She didn’t care if he was alright. She didn’t. He started up the car and she walked away. With the ride and everything, if she ran she might actually make it to class on time