By the time Buffy finally finished discussing the specifics of her plan with the governor, it was nearly sunrise. Buffy and Spike had returned to the governor’s office with him to have the very important conversation. Buffy and Spike sat across from the governor’s desk on a soft leather loveseat that seemed unusual furniture for an official office such as this, but was very conducive to a sense of ease and comfort.

However, after the incredibly exhausting night that they had both had, Spike found that the plush comfort of the loveseat, combined with the euphoric peace of just resting, so close to Buffy, her warm arm wrapped around is waist in a tender, protective gesture, was not so conducive to – well -- *consciousness*.

If Riley’s punishment earlier in the evening -- which *had*, incidentally, taken quite a bit of physical effort – had been Spike’s show, then this was Buffy’s. As the tension of his faded fears began to melt away, and his body began to relax in her casual embrace, Spike was content to just sit there at her side and allow her to outline the plan they had devised together. As he listened quietly to the soothing cadence of her soft voice, he began to feel himself drifting off…

“Spike!”

Buffy’s slightly raised voice and gentle poke to his side drew him out of the sleep he had almost slipped into, and he looked up at her, a slightly dazed expression on his face.

“What was that, love?” he asked in low voice that was husky with drowsiness.

Buffy’s arm rested casually around his waist, the fingers of her hand sliding slowly up and down his side in an idle gesture of intimate affection. Her eyes twinkled with amusement that she did not otherwise express, not wanting to embarrass him, as she asked lightly, “What do you think, Sweetie? The guest suite here? Or the guest house out back where the others are staying?”

He did not immediately reply; having missed most of the conversation, he was admittedly a bit lost, having no idea which option was really the better of the two.

“Both are equally secure,” the governor offered the information with a polite, reassuring smile. “Well-guarded. So your safety is not an issue. I’m sure your friends would love to see you – but then – you’re both probably exhausted…”

Spike looked to Buffy with an uncertain shrug. At this point, he really did not care; as long as there was a quiet room and a soft bed where he could curl up next to Buffy and rest as long as he wanted – he would be happy.

“They’ve already been at the guest house for hours,” Buffy pointed out in a soft, private murmur. “They’re gonna be ready to get up *way* before we are.”

A grimace of distaste passed across the vampire’s face at the thought of attempting to sleep in a house filled with Scoobies, all noisily bustling about in the midst of their various morning preparations.

“Buffy,” he confessed in a slightly apologetic tone, trying very hard to be as concerned as he should be about her friends -- *their* friends. “I love them all – bloody thrilled to death that they’re all right – but – oh sod it all!” he muttered as he gave up, rolling his eyes.

“The suite, pet,” he said with a wry quirk of his lips, meeting her gaze honestly. “Let’s take the bloody suite.”

The Slayer suppressed a chuckle of amusement at his honesty, her smile warming with affection – and the suddenly smoldering look in her eyes nearly took his breath away, catching him completely by surprise – as he began to wonder just exactly how tired he *really* was.

“Yeah,” she agreed, her fingertips at his side moving more slowly, more intently, edging lower, yet still out of sight of the governor, whom she faced with an innocent smile. “We’re pretty worn out,” she told him with a little nod. “I think we’d like a bit more…”

Her fingers slid down to run lightly just under the waistband of the vampire’s jeans behind his back, and she suppressed a grin when she felt his back arch just slightly forward at the contact, and heard the soft intake of breath that only she was near enough to notice.

“…privacy…than the guest house,” she finished, her eyes still focused on the governor – her touch focused entirely elsewhere.

“As you wish,” the governor agreed easily with a nod, apparently unaware of the silent communication taking place across the desk from him. He rose to his feet and opened the door, gesturing for them to follow as he stepped out into the hallway and out of sight.

Spike turned toward her instantly, his eyes blazing with desire for her, his hand rising to rest at the back of her neck, his lips earnestly seeking hers. A teasing sparkle in her eyes, she pushed him back, standing up.

“Honestly, Spike,” she said with mock innocence, secretly thrilled that such a simple, relatively innocent flirtation could make him want her so badly – apparently almost as badly as she wanted him at that moment. “Can’t you wait until we’re in private?”

His eyes widened in disbelief as she held out her hand to him to help him rise from the puffy loveseat that appeared to have the capability of swallowing people whole. He stared at her for a long moment, slowly raising one eyebrow in a dubious look that told her he was not amused -- but she ignored it, just smiling innocently and holding out her hand expectantly.

Finally, he took it, rising to his feet, grumbling good-naturedly as they walked out into the hall, far enough behind the governor that he could not hear their conversation, yet near enough to see where he was leading them. Buffy led the way, with Spike following after her, telling her just what he thought of her behavior.

“Bloody tease,” he muttered.

“So?”

“Vixen.”

“Thanks.”

The governor led them down a hallway they had not seen before, to a large, spacious suite the size of a small apartment. They allowed their playful spat to wait as he gave them a hospitable tour of the rooms that would be theirs for the next day, showing them where everything was.

“Anything you may need you should find readily available,” he informed them. “Towels in the cupboards – dressing gowns and such in the closet – toiletries under the bathroom sink.”

“Just like home,” Buffy said with an appreciative smile as they politely walked him back to the door of the suite.

The governor turned to face her as he stepped back out into the hall, returning her smile as he said in complete sincerity, “I certainly hope so. Call me when you’re rested. Good night.”

“Good night,” Buffy replied.

Spike said nothing. His eyes were already focused again on the Slayer, infuriating to him in this moment as she had ever been – and more intoxicating and tempting than ever.

The door was hardly closed behind the governor when Buffy was thrown down onto the living room couch with a little yelp of surprised protest, as she suddenly found herself pinned to the sofa by the cool, hard – and completely welcome – weight of a very frustrated, currently chip-free master vampire.

Her eyes widened as she stared up at him, taking in the gold sparkles in his vividly blue eyes that in this case indicated arousal rather than true anger. A sort of awe came over her, and her hands rose to his hips instinctively, her lips parting in anticipation, holding his gaze intently.

“What the bloody hell are you trying to do to me, Buffy?” he demanded in a low growl that sent delicious little shivers up and down her spine, his hands finding her waist and sliding slowly, ardently up and down in his consuming desire just to touch her, to hold her – to have her.

She fought through her own strengthening arousal as his hands slid inward temptingly near to her throbbing core, forcing a hazy smile to her lips as she murmured in a low, husky tone that betrayed her need in spite of her cool words.

“Well – look who decided to wake up.”

As she spoke, her own hand slipped between them, a feather-light stroke down the length of his fully erect member, through the oppressively tight denim that restrained it. The vampire’s eyes widened for just a moment at her words, as he realized the intent of her little game from the beginning – the moment before the capacity for rational thought left him, and his head arched back with a low moan at her torturously gentle touch.

“Buffy – God, Buffy, what you do to me!” he gasped.

“I’ve had all the time in the world to figure that out,” Buffy whispered, and his eyes slowly lowered to meet her suddenly serious gaze, as her words sank in through the wave of pleasure that her touch had induced. “Now – the question is – what are *you* going to do to *me*?”

His eyes widened at the suggestive tone that had returned to her voice with her last words, the subtle little smirk that rose to her lips, and instinctively a low growl rose in his throat. As he suddenly rose from the couch, he saw the expression of confused dismay just barely beginning on Buffy’s face, her brow creasing in a frown.

“What are you…?” she began – her words suddenly swallowed up in a little squeal of surprised, delighted laughter as he picked her up in his arms without warning and carried her into the bedroom.

He tossed her pointedly onto the enormous bed in the center of the room, and she watched in wide-eyed anticipation as he quickly shed the clothes he wore, never breaking eye contact except for the instant it took to pull his shirt off over his head, very deliberately stalking around the side of the bed before pouncing, landing on hands and knees over her.

She stared up at him, a teasing grin coming over her face as she giggled in breathless anticipation at his dramatic antics.

“Oh, no!” she whispered with mock fear, one hand tenderly running through the curls that had worked their way free on his head, still holding eye contact as his hands slowly roved over her body, sliding her skirt slowly up her thighs around her hips. “Somebody save me! I’m about to be ravished by the Big…*gahh*!”

The smirk disappeared in an instant, as her eyes widened in a shock of intense pleasure as his hand found the Slayer’s weakest spot. A low moan of pleasure rolled from her throat, quickening the vampire’s arousal, as she threw her head back, her eyes closed.

“God – Spike – please…” she gasped, her fingers running through his hair, clutching desperately in an instinctive reaction as his hand caressed her with ever intensifying pressure, drawing her expertly toward the peak of her need.

The overwhelming sensations of love – passion – power – swept over the vampire, consuming him with the heat that swept through him with every desperate cry of pleasure and pleading that fell from the lips of the beautiful, incredible woman on the bed beneath him.

*Mine,* he thought instinctively, some deep part of him recognizing what he still did not have the confidence to claim, but he swallowed back the word, losing his nerve before he could speak it aloud.

Whatever line of thought that might have taken him down was intercepted as Buffy urgently reached her hands down to his shoulders, pulling him desperately upward toward her.

“Spike – please – I need you – need you – inside me!” she gasped – and his hand immediately ceased, relinquishing the work it was performing, as he obligingly rose to hover over her sodden entrance, his lips falling to caress her throat, as his hands slid her panties down around her thighs.

She impatiently raised one foot to pull them off, flinging them with her foot – somewhere, across the room – she didn’t care where. The anticipation was burning her from the inside out, the longing the craving to have him deep inside of her. Her hands came to rest at his hips, as she murmured a feverish plea.

“Spike – please – please…now…”

He laved her throat with tender kisses as he slowly eased into her, his lips moving to hers just as they parted against his, releasing a strangled little gasping cry of mingled pleasure and pain.

The sound drove him to greater heights of pleasure as his lips instinctively sought her throat again, sucking gently over her pulse point, drawing another desperate moan from her lips that he knew had as much to do with the actions of his mouth as to do with anything else he was doing.

Encouraged by her response, he bit gently over the spot with his human teeth, and was rewarded with a slightly louder moan of pleasure.

“Yes – yes, Spike -- *God*…” Buffy whimpered.

He did not realize when his human face slipped to reveal his vampire visage – not until he felt the edge of a fang scrape against her throat, breaking the skin slightly, allowing a trickle of the rich ambrosia that was the Slayer’s blood to flow into his mouth.

It was like nothing he had every tasted – ever *felt* before – and he wanted her with an intensity of need that nearly consumed him.

He knew that he had not hurt her, had only added to her pleasure, as her hand rose to the back of his neck, pressing him down closer to her throat. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes – do it, Spike…please…”

He didn’t stop to think, to consider that in all the things he had been trained not to do, this was the worst possible offense – to feed from his mistress. A slave could be put to death for this – if he was lucky. But – there *were* no slaves anymore. *He* was no longer a slave – and she was no longer his mistress.

She was so much more.

“Mine!” he growled near her ear, in the instant before he lowered his mouth to her throat again.

The shocked little gasp that he heard from her lips stopped him in an instant, and he drew back with widened eyes that instantly shifted from gold to blue, staring at her in horror and disbelief, as he realized what he had almost done. A claim such as he had almost just made – would have, if he had proceeded to bite her – was eternal…unbreakable…and intensely personal and intimate.

How could he even consider it without asking her – not that she would ever want…

“Spike?”

He looked away from the uncertainty, the fear he saw in her eyes. The thought that he had put fear of any sort in her made him feel sick. “I – I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Buffy, I – I’m…”

“I’m yours.”

He stopped short, taken off guard by her startling words, his eyes shooting back up to hers in a frown of confusion, shaking his head slightly as he tried to process it.

“Spike,” she whispered, and he could see the tears shimmering in her eyes as her hand tenderly caressed his cheek. “Spike – I’m already yours.”

The depth of emotion in her words took his breath, and he let out an involuntary gasp, scarcely able to believe what she was telling him. She couldn’t mean it – not really – not if she really understood what it was that had almost happened just then.

“Buffy…what I was about to do…” he tried to explain to her.

“I *want* you to,” she interrupted earnestly, pulling him down impulsively into a deep, intense kiss, as she tried to make him see how desperately she really did want it. He was hers – had been in every way for so long now.

If only she could make him see that she belonged every bit as much to him.

She drew back from the kiss, holding his gaze intently, her hands on either side of his face insisting that he see the power of the love and need in her eyes.

“Spike – I’m the Slayer. I know about claims. I know that this would be a mating claim. Eternal. I’d be your mate, and you’d be mine, and nothing could ever break that, even if we wanted it to…”

He tried to look away, swallowing hard in shame at what he had almost forced upon her.

Firmly she held his head, not allowing him to break her gaze as she went on passionately, “And I’ll *never* want it to!” She paused, giving that a moment to sink in, before she whispered, “I want to be yours, Spike. Forever. I want you to claim me and make me your mate.”

He stared at her, his eyes widening in disbelief, still barely daring to hope.

“Buffy…”

“Please, Spike – make me yours.”