Am I to take it that that’s not battery-operated fun for all the family?” Spike murmured, eyeing the stake.

The Slayer had caught him off-guard. Here he was sprawled across the bed, defenceless and more than a little knackered, and she had the upper hand. He could make a leap at her, try and use brute strength and speed but she’d have him dusted before he even realised what had happened. Best to play it cool and calm, then, Spike decided.

He sat up slowly, hands plainly visible, as the Slayer tensed anticipating an attack. Instead he leaned over and kissed her shoulder. Miraculously, she let him. Spike reached over and grabbed the stake from her hand, tossing it across the room. Buffy glared at him but made no move to stop him.

He tilted his head, “So, you were just going to stake me after what we just did? I feel used.”

She turned away and bent down, searching through the clothes on the floor for her belongings. He watched as she tried to hold the sheet up and root around on the floor; it was a near impossible task. Buffy’s pale shoulders peeked at him from above the fallen sheet, scarred and raised. Spike reached out and ran a finger across them. Her back straightened and she moved out of his reach, glaring at him again.

“Knew you couldn’t do it, anyway,” Spike grinned stretching back out on the bed, lazily, “knew you couldn’t kill me.”

“Oh, but I could. I really could, Spike.” Her voice sounded as though she was talking about something far less serious than his death.

He looked up at her, “So, why didn’t you?”

She shrugged with one shoulder “I’m giving you a pass. Just for now. A one time only deal. You get out of town now, you can go on existing.”

Spike regarded her seriously. She was offering to let him skip off out of town and carry on with his carnage and mayhem as long as he didn’t do it on her doorstep. It was interesting to know that she was willing to let him continue to kill. They’d had a truce of sorts before but this was different. She had nothing to gain from not killing him. He wasn’t here to help save the world and by rights she should have staked his arse good and proper already.

Maybe it was because they had just shagged each other silly. Maybe she didn’t like to mix business with pleasure. And what a pleasure it had been. Spike smiled just thinking about it. She moved with such raw intensity that it had been a challenge for him not to shoot his load as soon as he’d entered her. She was so hot as well. Spike had only ever had vampire lovers, finding humans were much better for eating than screwing. Angelus had taught him that, not to bother with the mortal women, but now Spike began to think that maybe the bastard had just not wanted to share. Of course, the fact that she was the Slayer must have had something to do with it. He’d just fucked her breathless yet here she was, half a second later, threatening to kill him and gathering up her things like it hadn’t even amounted to the exertion of a brisk jog.

Spike wrapped an arm around her and yanked her back down onto the bed in front of him. She cursed and protested but he held on tight. Pulling the covers off of her he was afforded an unobstructed view of her back. He wondered how he could have ever truly found them ugly.They belonged to her, were a part of her, and in that they were wonderful. He’d never really been one for thinking scars were sexy but he could see now why some would. He placed a kiss against her back and felt her muscles tense, she stiffened.

He had no doubt in his mind that she hadn’t been touched like this since before she got scarred. Maybe she hadn’t even been with anyone since Angelus? Spike shrugged that thought away. He didn’t know and he didn’t care to dwell on it either. The point of it was, that he was probably the first bloke to see these scars, to have her let him see the scars and touch them and kiss them. There was a privilege in that, like taking some innocent’s young thing’s virginity. There was power in it too. Spike knew her fears now – that she perceived herself to be ugly and maybe even less than human – and he could use that to his advantage if he wanted.

However, he didn’t want to think about any of that. At least, not now. For this very short space of time she belonged to him. They weren’t going to fight no matter how many stakes she waved in his face. She wouldn’t stake him today; maybe she would another time, but not today. Today was a temporary respite from the regularly scheduled vampire vs. Slayer show.

Spike ran his hand along her back taking his time to feel each bump and indentation. The texture of her skin was rough in places, newly scabbed, whereas in others it was smooth as silk. It was a wonder for the senses.

“Don’t think this changes anything,” Buffy whispered, “this...what we did. It doesn’t mean I’m not the Slayer anymore.”

Spike shrugged, “Never said it did. Wouldn’t find you half as interesting if you weren’t.”

“Thanks,” she replied sarcastically, sitting up.

He watched as she leaned down and picked up her clothes, slipping them on quickly.

Spike wasn’t too pleased about that. She couldn’t leave so soon, it just wasn’t proper.

“You can’t go yet, we haven’t even cuddled,” he smirked, grabbing her shirt from her.

Buffy looked over her shoulder at him, “I’m going home. My mother will be worried.”

“Your mum can wait,” Spike tugged at her shirt “We’ve got so much more to discuss. Living arrangements, how many brats we want, whether you’ll be wearing white at the wedding or not...”

The Slayer wrinkled her nose, “Have I mentioned how not funny, you are?”

“Good thing I’m a looker, then.” Spike beamed.

She pulled a face and tried to grab her shirt back from him. He didn’t let go and it ripped all along the seam. Buffy looked down at the shirt and then lifted her eyes to his, disbelief on her face. Spike let go of the material and fixed a charming smile on his face.

“You...I hate you!” She pointed at his face.

Spike playfully tried to bite her finger but she pulled it back moodily. “Yeah, I hate you too, baby. Still, I’d be willing to fuck you again”

The Slayer huffed and picked up his T-shirt. “Never again, Spike.”

“You say it, but you don’t mean it.”

Buffy pulled his shirt on. “I do mean it. You’re a vampire, I’m the Slayer. We don’t do this.”

“You’re not nicking my shirt, Summers,” he sat up, face resolute, “you can’t just screw a guy, then threaten to kill him, break up with him, and then steal his clothes. Didn’t anyone ever teach you how these things work?”

She stood and picked up her jacket, slipping it on, “Break up with you? Spike, we were never together. And stop it.”

“Stop what?” He arched an eyebrow inquisitively.

“Talking like that,” she slipped her shoes on, flustered, “...like we’re talking.”

Spike frowned. “You make no sense.”

“Stop talking to me like we’re a couple. We aren’t. What happened to the big bad, hmm? A couple of nights ago you were ready to kill me and now you’re joking around like we’re best friends. This isn’t a game. If you don’t leave then this is going to end bloody.”

Spike looked into her eyes “Well, I’m not leaving.”

Buffy scooped up a stake, looked at it “Your choice.”

He watched as she picked up the rest of her scattered weapons. Even now she moved with a Slayer-like grace. She smelt of him, of his scent. Spike knew that her scent was all over him too now. Demons would pick up on it and he liked that. It would give him major credibility if the underworld of Sunnydale found out about it. It would mark the Slayer as his territory and could provoke two different reactions from the demon world – they would either avoid her at all costs, or seek her out and slaughter her.

Spike figured he should maybe warn her about that but she was being such a bitch he decided against it. Let the cow find it out for herself.

“You’ve really lost your sense of humour, blondie.” he remarked.

Buffy shrugged, turning back to him, “What have I got to smile at?”

She had a point there. The Slayer’s life wasn’t exactly a laughfest at the moment. Spike had even noted the absence of her annoying friends when he’d been keeping an eye on her. He knew they were still in town, had seen them out and about more than once. He supposed they’d been keeping their distance for a while now. Bastards.

Not that he cared. “So, when do I see you again?” he asked, half-jokingly.

Buffy held up the stake, her face emotionless, “That depends. When do you want to die?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, though, likely anticipating the sarcastic reply that was on his lips. She turned and left and it was like she had never been there at all. Spike sighed and lay spread-eagled on the bed looking up at the ceiling. It had been an odd and eventful day.The Slayer would be out for his blood if she saw him again, and not in the nice way. Still, he’d started to think that killing her would be a waste. There were so many other ways to have his fun with her and he was determined to try them all.