Title: Out Of My Head

Author: AJ Hofacre 

Rating: NC-17

Summary: Ever wonder how things might’ve gone if Spike HAD gotten the chip out in "Out of My Mind?" Well he’s definitely chip free now... but that doesn’t mean the bloodsucker isn’t Buffy-whipped.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Feedback: is good. Is necessary. Makes the heart grow fonder. Makes chocolate extra tasty. And ends World Hunger. No, really.

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Out of My Head

Part 1

 

Harmony watched quietly (for once), gripping her crossbow. It was a little weird watching that queer, funny smelling little doctor stitching up Spike’s head while he was awake. She began to fidget. <Hurry UP, I’m hungry!> she whined mentally. Spike had threatened all kinds of bodily harm to her if she didn’t be quiet for the remainder of the surgery. Spike, meanwhile, was glowing – a fairly incredible feat for someone who’d been dead for over 120 years.

 

"Listen to me. My stomach’s growlin’, I’m so starved." The doctor’s eyes widened as he applied the bandage to the back of Spike’s head. "I’m afraid I’m gonna have to have me a little snack." Without trying to decipher who the vampire was thinking of for the snack, Overheiser knew, and he gulped audibly. Spike smirked to himself – just the reaction he wanted. Fear. He turned his head and peered at him over his shoulder, cold, sparkling blue eyes glinting dangerously with hints of gold.

 

"Oh, don’t worry," he began in his (extremely bad) attempt at being reassuring. "I won’t fill up on bread. I’ll still have plenty of room for the main course." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, said course kicked open the door and stood there, a cold look on her face. Spike’s eyes narrowed. Captain Cocksucker was right behind her. <Never mind him,> the demon ordered. He’d let Harm drain the stupid prick later. Right now, that luscious, nummy little Slayer was waiting for him... and he couldn’t WAIT to sink his teeth into that silky smooth, elegant, creamy neck...

 

"Slayer!" he growled, eyeing her neck lustfully as he jumped off the operating table. Harmony ran to his side, readying the crossbow. Buffy and Riley positioned themselves, facing off against the two vamps. Overheiser’s eyes widened in fear, and he tried to make his way around the four, scrambling for the exit. He heard, rather than saw, Spike’s bones shift as his game face appeared, and shuddered when the Master vampire let out a growl.

 

"Suit up, Harm," the bleach blonde ordered, his voice muffled slightly as he spoke around his fangs. Harmony promptly responded, her own features falling away into her demonic visage. Buffy watched for a moment, her gaze falling first on the younger vampire, then Spike, before spinning around and grabbing Overheiser before he could make it up the steps.

 

"Stay here," she muttered, shoving him to the ground. "We’re gonna need you." Spike focused on the bane of his existence, for once trying to keep the smug, saucy grin from appearing on his face. He bounced gently on his heels, trying to contain his excitement.

 

<Finally.>

 

"Buffy. I swear, I was just thinking of you. I wanted to tell you the great news. My head’s all clear now. No more bug-zapper in my noggin." Buffy favored the bloodsucker with a tight glare.

 

"That means I get to kill you," she ground out. Spike smirked. Now THERE was the little bitch he loved to hate.

 

"You get to try," he replied haughtily. He was the Big Bad again. Not even the Slayer could touch him anymore. <Of course,> he thought, eyes trailing over Buffy’s golden, agile body, <the chip couldn’t have stopped me from touching HER...>

 

Everything was quiet for a while, each team sizing the other up, but neither side daring to make the first move until Harmony, as per usual, broke the silence. A loud SPROIING! sounded, followed by a dull <thwack!> Buffy’s head shot around, her eyes widening as she saw where the bolt had landed – right in Riley’s right thigh. Riley didn’t even seem to notice. Harmony glanced down at the crossbow, then back up at Riley meekly (which was actually quite an amusing sight to see in her game face). Spike sighed. <And I expected anything more of her?>

 

"Oops," Harm squeaked, having at least the grace to look sheepish – as best she could, anyway. Spike grinned internally when he saw the rage that flashed across his little Slayer’s face. <FUCK, yes!>

 

The burlap sack lumbered toward Harmony as Spike watched, and yanked the crossbow away from her. Unfortunately for him, as he was distracted by that, he failed to notice Buffy following her boyfriend. He turned his head back just in time for Buffy’s fist to meet his face.

 

Riley threw Harmony down on the table, then picked her up again and threw her into the wall. Several pieces of equipment suffered from the impact, clattering, rattling, and dropping to the ground.

 

Spike, meanwhile, had become Buffy’s living (well, unliving) punching bag. Her fists met his face in rapid succession, each time pushing him closer and closer to the table. He grunted and stumbled back against it. His eyes gleamed in absolute, unadulterated bliss. There was NOTHING he liked better than fighting Buffy. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Army Boy punch Harm, then toss her across the room before leaning back against the counter, gasping. Spike raised an eyebrow. <Hmmm...> Harm recovered quickly and shoved a wheeled chair in his path. Spike snorted and tried to hold in a laugh when the meat head tripped and went down. Harmony launched herself at him, kicking him in the face.

 

Spike returned his focus to the Slayer, jumping onto the table and grinning down at her. He paused for a second, when he realized his new position gave him quite a view down Buffy’s blouse. Shaking himself out of the one little world that vampires were NOT supposed to tread path on, he snarled softly. He could hear and see Riley and Harmony still going at it, but they were on the other side of the room. And, as he let his eyes rove over Buffy’s petite little body again, he knew that he had been waiting too damn long for this moment.

 

"At long last," he growled, leaping at Buffy and carrying her down with him to the ground. He straddled her and pinned her hands above her head. His knees and thighs squeezed a vice grip around her legs, effectively spoiling any of her attempts to kick of punch him off. He took a long while and stared at her, hungry and power-driven. Slayer’s blood was the strongest on the face of the earth, and as he listened to it rushing, surging through her veins as she bucked and struggled underneath him, he found himself wanting it more than anything.

 

But as he looked more closely upon the young beauty, he found himself wanting something besides her blood, too. Her.

 

Buffy’s head jerked to the side, glaring at her captor furiously, and Spike’s figurative breath caught in his throat. Fuck.

 

Now THAT was a picture. A sweaty, flushed, angry, writhing, DELICIOUS looking Slayer, bucking and twisting right under him. It didn’t help that her hips kept rubbing against his.

 

She finally stopped fidgeting and glared up at him with enough hostility in her eyes that not even Donald Trump would have dared to cross her. Trying to get loose had proven to be a difficult task. Now that Spike was chipless, the metal immobilizer wasn’t gonna come in and... well, immobilize him. The vamp could put as much pressure as he wanted on her, and nothing would happen. He had an iron grip on her, and he wasn’t planning on letting go anytime soon. Her chest was heaving, her pulse was racing, her breathing was completely haywire, and a fine sheen of sweat had settled comfortably over her cleavage. He lifted his gaze then and licked his lips, and Buffy was momentarily stunned by what she saw there – lust. Her stomach refused to do the ‘roll over and churn’ reflex and it horrified her. What the hell was going on?!

 

He watched, captivated, as her pulse began to quicken. The sound of her heartbeat was drawing itself out and pounding in his ears, driving him absolutely crazy with desire. The vein in her neck was throbbing uncontrollably and Spike’s own body was starting to respond in kind. He was enraptured. The scent of her sudden fear that he’d detected wafting up from her fragrant body was amazing. But those weren’t the only things about her that had captured his attention. The main thing, was Buffy herself.

 

She noticed his distraction and, fueled by the fear of her lack of nausea at her body’s reaction to his, she bucked like a bronco underneath him, trying to throw him off. She froze completely still when, instead of cursing and smacking her, Spike let out a low groan of pleasure. He ducked his head and inhaled the wonderful scent her body was emitting, nudging his face gently into the crook of her neck. She tensed immediately, then frantically began trying to kick him off. Spike let out a soft growl, and Buffy stilled at the sound of it, the commanding tone of it stunning her into obeying him. His hips bucked against hers once. One hand trailed down her body, while the other continued to tightly clasp her wrists above her head. The free hand slid down the center of her chest before moving to the right and gently cupping her breast. Buffy’s eyes bugged out and her body unconsciously arched at Spike’s touch. Spike purred softly, nuzzling his nose against her cheek.

 

"Slayer," he rasped, before tilting his head down. His moist, cool tongue slid out and made a path from the sensitive spot behind her ear, all the way down to her throat, licking along the vein erotically. Buffy attempted to call out to Riley, but his name never made it past her lips. Instead, she felt her nipples harden and a soft whimper escape her throat, her eyes wide in surprise. Whoa. This was new.

 

Spike’s hand moved away from the Slayer’s firm, pert breast and slid down between her legs, spreading them. He situated himself between them, his erection becoming harder as soon as he felt the heat from her center through her jeans. He felt her shudder and heard her emit another whimper at the feel of his cock against her, and he smiled to himself.

 

Spike had never followed the rules before. He wasn’t gonna start now. The Slayer was in his arms, willing and vulnerable.

 

She was making him hard.

 

He was making her wet.

 

All in all, he felt pretty damn good right now.

 

He bent down and licked her neck again, dragging the tip of his tongue slowly across her pulse point. His hips began moving of their own accord, and slowly began to thrust against her. Buffy moaned softly and stared up at him with glazed eyes.

 

"Spike?" she whispered weakly, her voice bordering on disbelief and fascination. He replied with another soft purr, and another thrust against her pussy, and Buffy rolled her head to the side, dazed by his ministrations.

 

And that’s when he saw them – two faint, jagged, vicious looking puncture scars on her neck. He sniffed at them for a moment, before recognizing the scent around them.

 

Angel.

 

He growled in anger.

 

It figured. Bastard always had to have them first.

 

Something overcame him at the thought of his Slayer and his Sire, and he grasped the girl firmly. He attacked her neck, biting down viciously. Holding on firmly to her hips and pressing himself tightly against her, he clamped onto her wound like a leech, sucking hungrily. Buffy let out a squeak when she felt him pierce her skin, and that should have been a clue for her to pull away and beat the tar out of him. But the anger in his attack had disappeared.

 

Now he was holding her to him, suckling her blood slowly and sensually, and it all had nothing short of a possessive manner. The pain soon dissipated and her body became flooded with excitement. The things he was doing to her... they could never be matched by anyone else. She tentatively thrust up under him, still mostly in control of her mind, then gave him another, more confident thrust. She writhed against him like a bitch in heat, straining to feel more of that enormous bulge in his pants pressed against her.

 

Spike’s nostrils flared as he smelled her arousal, and his eyes widened in awe; she was enjoying this. And she was responding to him. Holy fuck. He had a heap of difficulty trying to contain the roar of pleasure that made an escape attempt when the girl began grinding against him, and... oh, fuck, he was so hard he was gonna burst if he didn’t get inside of her. And her blood... oh, her blood was amazing. He’d never tasted any like THIS before. At his first taste, he’d sensed her darkness, her light, her own strengths and weaknesses, and her very essence combined in it. Rich, thick, delicious, aromatic, heavenly, extremely potent Slayer’s blood...

 

Buffy's blood.

 

"Mine," he growled softly between swallows, intent on drinking as much of the nectar as he could without killing her. He couldn’t kill her now. Not after how his body had responded to hers, and vice versa. No way was he gonna let this girl die.

 

This was so different from Angel. Angel had practically torn her up. His demon had surfaced and clouded his judgment, wanting for him to do nothing more than drain her of life. Spike... Spike was making this all erotic. God help her, but she was gonna die if he wasn’t inside her soon. But... her vision was starting to waver. And she was... really starting to feel sort of... faint...

 

BAM!

 

Spike let out a howl of pain and pulled off of Buffy, who let out a soft, weak moan before her head rolled to the side and she passed out. His eyes widened when he saw her, then spun around, snarling, to see who’d attacked him. His mouth dripping with crimson, he shot up as he came face to face with the angry glare of one Special Agent Riley Finn. Holding a steel chair.

 

<Dumbass.>

 

Spike shot him a bloody, fangy grin, and contentedly began licking the blood off of his lips, looking for all the world the cat who’d just ate the canary. Wiping his hand across his mouth, he stopped when he caught sight of the fainted Slayer, two tiny little streams of blood trickling out of her wounds, her head tilted to the side. Spike tilted his head, studying her, and felt his body respond accordingly to her position. Spread legs, flushed face, sweaty, mouth open...

 

<Oh, DAMN, she looks... >

 

BAM!

 

Riley had hit him again.

 

"Get away from her, Spike," the boy growled in what Spike assumed was a threatening manner. "Stay the FUCK away from her!" Spike’s tongue casually slid out and licked the last trickle of crimson out of the corner of his lips hungrily, before he hauled off and slammed his fist into the frat boy’s face, knocking him down. He growled in pleasure, tossing his head back and laughing. <No fucking pain; oh hell yeah.>

 

"I don’t have anything holdin’ me back now, boy. I’d suggest you fuck off, before you really regret tryin’ to be the Slayer’s hero. She don’t need one. She’ll be just fine," he chuckled. Riley struggled to get up, glaring hatefully at the unconventional master vampire. He attempted to lunge at him, but his heart suddenly pulsed, and he let out a loud gasp, grabbing at his chest and giving a loud groan of pain.

 

"Spikey, come on! Hurry up!" Harmony yelled. She had a clean cut going straight down her arm, and was waiting at the door, clutching slightly at the wound, eyes wide. Spike grunted and smirked, walking calmly over to the doctor, who’d remained on the ground during Spike’s entire interaction with the Slayer, wide-eyed and shocked at the display. Spike’s face reverted back to human form, and he stared at Overheiser with his amazingly human blue eyes. He motioned to the two humans.

 

"Help ‘em," he ordered. Overheiser nodded quickly and scrambled over to them, knowing better than to piss off William the Bloody. Spike smirked and swaggered up the steps. He wasn’t gonna kill the Slayer. Not now. Maybe not ever, but most definitely not now. And having Soldier Boy around would just make it even more fun. Stealing his girl, right in front of him; seducing her away and making him watch every second of it... Spike grinned.

 

He looked back, staring at Buffy lustfully, hungrily.

 

As it was... the minute he got home...

 

He was gonna pound Harmony into the ground.

 

 

 

Spike’s head lolled slightly to the side. He snorted softly in his sleep. A loud BANG erupted from entrance to the crypt, and he shot straight up, his eyes snapping open. He tested the air until he recognized the scent of his visitor, then sighed and stood up when Buffy stormed in. He shot her a slight smirk.

 

"Should’ve known it’s you. Been nearly six hours." Buffy glared at him.

 

"Well, it would’ve been less if I wasn’t busy cleaning up your mess." Spike shrugged and hooked his thumbs into the belt loops of his jeans, rocking back on the heels of his feet.

 

"-MY- mess? I just –borrowed- the doc, an’ he’s lucky I didn’t eat him. The mess is yours, Slayer. Yours and the boy’s." It really figured. The Slayer, just barging into his home, trying to put everything on him, as usual. She just didn’t know when to quit. He eyed her quietly, noticing his mark on her otherwise flawless skin. A shock of excitement surged through his body and a slow grin spread across his face.

 

"So, how’d you like that little experience earlier, luv? Did you enjoy it as much as I thought you did?" The look on Buffy’s face went from angry to mortified, then back to anger within a second. "I mean, I’m a vampire. I could –smell- it, even if you deny it, baby. Is that what this little visit is for, then? You’ve come to get more from the Big Bad?" He grinned wickedly. "Or did you just wanna see how big an’ bad I really am?" Buffy’s face flushed and she shrank away for a second, then came back with more confidence.

 

"I’m done," she muttered, shaking her head. She took a stake from her back pocket and advanced on him. Spike raised an eyebrow in surprise. Whoa. He sure hadn’t expected THAT (note the sarcasm.) Especially not after how she’d responded to him earlier. An image of a very nude Slayer suddenly flashed before his eyes and he tried to keep a groan from escaping. Her moans and whimpers from earlier infiltrated his brain and he mentally slapped himself to pay attention to what was happening now. Buffy didn’t even notice his inner conflict. Her gaze never wavered.

 

"Spike, you’re a killer. And I shoulda done this years ago." Spike stared at her and sighed. She wasn’t gonna even play around with him. She just wanted to kill him. The thought irritated him more than usual, and suddenly he was sick of the Slayer. All previous images of her, bucking underneath him and crying out in the throes of passion from an orgasm –he’d- brought upon her vanished and he was disgusted. What the hell was wrong with him? Lusting after the Slayer? Was he –looking- for a death wish?

 

Fine. If she wanted to kill him, fine. He wasn’t gonna fight it. At least, if he was dead for good, she wouldn’t drive him so crazy anymore. He’d be free of her.

 

He gazed at her and finally shrugged, looking her in the eye.

 

"You know what? Do it. Bloody. Just. Do it." Buffy looked bewildered.

 

"What?" Spike was giving in? That was... impossible. He was just going to sit back and let her kill him, without a fight? And he COULD fight her now. But why wouldn’t he? Spike stared at her meaningfully.

 

"End... my... torment. Seeing you, everyday, everywhere I go, every time I turn around." Spike paused slightly, realizing just how true his words were. Everywhere he went, the Slayer haunted him, her cheeky little smile penetrating his mind. He’d once even hallucinated, and thought he’d seen her, standing at the side of his sarcophagus one morning, her hand resting on his chest, with no stake. He continued. "Take me... out of a world... that has you in it!" He grasped his shirt and jerked it off, baring a pale but strong, smooth, compactly muscled torso. He tossed the shirt behind him and presented himself to her. He knew he was being overly dramatic, but he didn’t care. Just as long as it ended in his death. "Just kill me!"

 

Buffy blinked once or twice, thrown a little off track by the sight of his chest, then stared into his eyes. Whoa. He... couldn’t really mean it... could he? The look on his face was completely serious. <Oh, fuck, he does mean it.> She bit her lip, and debated with herself for a second before taking a chance. Then she raised her stake and lunged at him. She saw him tense and wince, waiting for the final blow from her that would end him. He didn’t even close his eyes. Fortunately for him, Buffy realized what she was doing, and froze before she could finish the task.

 

<I can’t. I can’t kill him. I can’t do this. Why can’t I do this?> she thought, blinking furiously to keep from crying. What? Crying? Now she was preparing to cry over Spike? Jesus Christ. Spike caught her eyes and held her gaze. She looked completely lost and confused, not knowing what to do with herself. And suddenly, the feelings for her that he’d fought against earlier came flooding back. Desire welled up inside of him and he drew in a sharp breath. Whatever this was, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he wanted her. He had to have this girl, had to hold her, touch her, taste her...

 

He grabbed her upper arms and pulled her to him, not even thinking as he pressed his lips to hers feverishly. Buffy whimpered and clutched his forearms, returning the kiss with equal fervor. Spike groaned softly, drawing the girl flush against him, trying frantically to clutch at every part of her at once, refusing to let her go.

 

Well, until Buffy jerked away with her hand over her mouth, wide-eyed and horrified. Trembling slightly, she stared at Spike, and he licked his lips, staring back at her. They were both panting heavily despite Spike’s lack of need for air. His eyes flickered to her hands. The stake was gone.

 

But...

 

Another could appear at any second. He watched her apprehensively, expecting her to lunge at him and rip his head off, or possibly something worse. So when Buffy dropped her hand and walked back to him, he was understandably nervous.

 

Nervousness disappeared the second Buffy put her hands on the back of his head, pulling him toward her and assaulting him with another lustful, passionate kiss. Spike wrapped his arms around her tightly, clutching her with greedy fingers. His lips trailed away from hers, brushing over her cheek and moving down to her neck. When his icy lips pressed against her skin, Buffy let out a soft moan and arched into him.

 

"Oh, god... Spike... I want you," she panted, her eyes closed and her fingers grasping at his hair and his body convulsively. Spike buried his face in her neck, kissing, licking, and nuzzling his mark. Not biting. Just cuddling.

 

"Buffy, I love you," he murmured softly. Buffy pulled back, and stared up at him, eyes lighting up and staring at him in disbelief. He lifted a hand to caress her cheek, smiling affectionately when she smiled and leaned into it. His heart welled up. "God, I love you so much," he finished with a whisper.

 

 

 

Spike’s eyes popped open and he bolted straight up in bed with a gasp. His gaze shot to the female form next to him, and his upper lip curled in dismay when he realized it was Harmony. He looked around wildly, thinking someone was playing a major practical joke on him, just waiting to leap out at him and club him over the head or something. He looked down at his lap and raised his eyebrows when he noticed the tent in the blanket his hard-on had apparently pitched in his sleep. He looked around again, frowning as he recalled his dream... the words he’d said... the feelings he’d had.

 

He’d told Buffy he loved her.

 

"Oh, fuck," he sighed, putting his face in his hands and groaning. Then he looked up at the ceiling and scowled.

 

"You’ve got to be kidding me."

 

The Powers just had to kick a bad ass when he was down, didn’t they?

 

 

 

Several blocks over, Buffy rolled out of Riley’s grasp and sighed, staring blankly at the wall. She shivered slightly as the cool air from her window blew over her naked body through the sheets. When they’d gotten back to her house after Riley’s mini-surgery, she’d practically torn him apart to rid her body of the lustful feelings she was having. Riley had pretty much been horrified at her actions, stunned and a little fearful that his "sweet, innocent" Buffy was capable of some of the things she’d displayed that night.

 

He was out like a light after the first round.

 

Stupid lightweight.

 

The fact that it had been Spike that had given her these feelings by rubbing and grinding into her was more than a little freaky.

 

But God help her, it felt good.

 

Her hand unwittingly reached up and caressed her newest scar. The wound was still tender, having only been opened six hours earlier (and when she’d taken a look at them in the mirror after her shower, she’d noted with a hint of amusement that Spike had placed his mark directly over his grandsire’s). Thanks to her accelerated healing, they were now nothing more than two small pink bumps. But for some reason, they were affecting her a bit more than the others had.

 

The Master – Spike’s great, great grandsire – had bitten her to escape from his lair and to wreak havoc on the surface. That had caused her nothing but pain and her (really, really short) death.

 

The Master's grand Childe (Angel) had marked her in his own vicious way, nearly draining her to cure the poison in his body. THAT had been a major bitch. It had still hurt, long after it had healed, not just physically, but emotionally as well, for obvious reasons.

 

Dracula had been mercifully kind when he’d bitten her. He’d smelled Angel’s scent over the mark, and he’d ignored it – apparently, he and Angelus had never been on very good terms. Dracula was strange, but he hadn’t been as psychotic as the darker Irish vampire. Dracula had bitten her because she’d intrigued him. Maybe he’d sensed something familiar about her or something. He’d wanted to show her the extent of her powers. So he’d held her under thrall.

 

But Spike’s mark...

 

... was driving her absolutely crazy, for one thing. It kept tingling and dancing and making her body shiver.

 

These marks, for some reason, held more power over her than even Dracula’s thrall had. It was...

 

Weird.

 

And what was with him earlier? He’d bitten her and had been a little violent about it – he must’ve sensed Angel’s presence in the scar. He hadn’t minded the elder vampire until Angelus came into play and had begun sleeping with Drusilla. But after the initial puncture had been made, he’d been a little tender about it, sucking as gently as possible. And GOD, the feel of his body against hers...

 

Was so beyond wrong it wasn’t even funny! Her eyes widened in alarm and she mentally smacked herself. <Bad Buffy! There will be NO lusty thoughts of Sp – of anyone! Except maybe Josh Hartnett, but that’s IT!> she chided herself.

 

Didn’t matter that he’d immediately zeroed in on her weak spot. Didn’t matter that everything he’d done had completely turned her on. Didn’t matter that he’d made her feel things that nobody else could or had. Didn’t matter that he’d been getting off on getting her off, too, grinding that big <massive, humongous, gigantic> erection against the apex of her legs in just the right –

 

<STOP that!> she yelped mentally, positively terrified by the direction her thoughts were taking.

 

Holy Christ. This was bad. Very, very... bad.

 

Bad. Big bad.

 

Spike was the Big Bad.

 

A big bad with a knack for finding her pleasure spots.

 

Bad, bad, very bad Spike. Bad Spike.

 

Naughty Spike. Dirty, lewd, naughty Spike – oh.

 

GAH!

 

What the hell was she thinking?!

 

She cuddled up to her mattress, grabbing her pillow and shoving it over her head, as if that would make the very wicked Buffy thoughts go away magically. Scrunching away from Riley, she made the extremely difficult first steps to falling asleep. Trying to ignore the sudden image of a pair of penetrating azure eyes and a cocky smirk. Trying to feel revolted at the sudden urge to cover those smug lips with her own. Trying to ignore HIM.

 

Riley grunted softly in his sleep and fidgeted slightly, the sheet wrapping around his foot. That somewhat provided a distraction from the extremely annoying presence hovering around her, and she sighed, refusing to look at him. The stubborn dumbass would’ve been dead by now if it hadn’t of been for her. Buffy sighed and shifted away when his arm made an attempt to wrap around her. She was so beyond irritated with him. He’d actually thought she was so petty as to believe that the only reason she wanted to date him was because of his borrowed vampiric strength. He was insecure enough to think that she’d dump him if he didn’t measure of to Angel’s, or even Spike’s standards, for Christ’s sake!

 

Suddenly, everything was competition with him. If he couldn’t keep up with, or exceed her, he would get kicked to the curb. If she didn’t love him so damn much, he’d be on an unscheduled ass-kicking back to Iowa!

 

She sighed. And if he wasn’t just getting over the surgery, she’d be seriously considering giving them a time out until he got some sense back into his head. But she couldn’t do that now. Because he needed her. As... pressuring as that was.

 

And suddenly, out of nowhere, her thoughts drifted right back to Spike.

 

And she felt her stomach do flip-flops.

 

THAT was disturbing. Since when did her stomach do flip-flops because of Spike? Had to be the... Her eyes widened. The bite marks.

 

She nearly fell off the bed with her realization.

 

Spike had bitten her. He’d had her. But she wasn’t dead.

 

Why wasn’t she dead?

 

He could’ve EASILY killed her! She’d been wide open (that thought caused a blush), vulnerable, and he was back to his Big Bad self again without the chip. He could’ve easily drained her or ripped her throat out, and bagged his third Slayer. But despite all his fronting and bravado about killing her the second he wasn’t under government technological supervision... she was still alive. He drank from her, and she was still alive.

 

She touched the mark again and shivered.

 

She had an odd feeling about this...

 

 

 

Spike yawned and stumbled around the crypt. He was alone; he’d sent Harmony through the tunnels to terrorize the people at the butcher shop, much to her confusion ("You’re CHIP–LESS now, why do you still want that icky bagged blood?") He’d shrugged. He didn’t know. It was probably just instinct, or... routine. Yeah. That. Anyway, he’d suddenly become threatening when she’d lingered too long, and cursed and bitched at her if she didn’t get the hell out of the crypt right then. She’d run off in a fright. As a vampire, she knew better now than to argue with her elder.

 

The truth was, he desperately needed time along to think. With Harmony around, buzzing about like a goddamn gnat, it was easier said than done. Thoughts of Bu – er, the Slayer had been plaguing him all of last night, and all of this morning. Ever since the little incident at the office, and the dream he’d had, Buffy had been poking in and out of his head routinely every two minutes or so.

 

He was THIS CLOSE to ripping his head off.

 

Why the HELL was she affecting him this much? He couldn’t love her. It was impossible, bad ass vampires did NOT fall in love with the Slayer! If anyone found out, he could be killed!

 

< Okay. What the hell did I do for her to have this much of an affect on me? Lessee... Snarked off at her, fought her, pinned her and practically fucked her on the ground... heh, that was fun. Er... bit her, drank her, claimed her, then got hit in the head with a chair by Cardboard and ran back here with Harm. >

 

Wait a second. One of those didn’t seem right.

 

<Claimed her.> Spike’s eyes widened.

 

"Oh bleedin’ FUCK! I claimed the Slayer!" Then he paused. "I claimed the Slayer."

Something about that sounded REALLY good. He grinned.

 

"I claimed the Slayer, an’ she let me. Bloody hell." This was priceless!

 

He hadn’t meant to do it. It had all been an unconscious effort. The word ‘mine’ had simply slipped out while he’d been drinking her, and that definitely explained the damn tingling he got. She wasn’t fully his, though. In order for his claim to be legit, she’d have to admit it. Then exact her own claim on him, in his wildest dreams.

 

He’d never claimed a human before. The sensations were weird. And now to figure out that the human he’d claimed was also the Slayer he ... gulp... loved...

 

"Bloody marvelous," he breathed (figuratively, of course).

 

Seducing her away from Finn was gonna be easier than he’d thought.

 

And a hell of a lot more fun, too.

 

---

Out of My Head

Part 2 

"You let him what?!" Buffy scowled at her big-mouthed boyfriend before turning to look at her bewildered friends, sister, and Watcher. She sighed as she focused on Giles.

 

"I didn’t let him do anything. He just... bit me, and I... didn’t stop him. That’s all. Honestly, he didn’t hurt me; in fact, he was more gentle with it than Angel was when he bit me." Riley looked sharply at Buffy.

 

"Angel bit you?" The young blonde mentally groaned. Shit; she’d forgotten to mention that part of her Angel history with him. And she could feel the jealousy rolling off of him in waves... no, not waves. The jealousy was producing a monsoon effect with Riley. Waving it off, she shook her head.

 

"Long story. ONE that I do NOT feel like going into right now," she added, narrowing her eyes at Riley when he opened his mouth to protest. Honest to God, he HAD to get the whole jealousy thing under control! Riley scowled and backed down. The entire group had quieted and were now staring at each other with worried looks. Finally, Dawn, who’d had enough of the silence, sidled up to her older sister, her eyes lit up with curiosity.

 

"Did it hurt any?" Buffy turned a sharp eye to the fourteen-year-old. God, what was it with her sister’s fascination with vamp – oh, never mind. She shook her head, and yawned.

 

"No, not really. But I guess I should be used to it by now. Vamps seem to like using my neck as a chew toy." She pointedly ignored the frown Giles gave her, and the withering Look Riley sent her. Dawn grinned. The teen not only had a fascination with vampires, but with a particular vampire in question. Spike and Drusilla had kidnapped her when they’d been the resident Big Bads, and Dawn had been enamored with the bleach blonde since then. Even after he had taken Dru and left, she’d asked about him continuously, hoping her sister had maybe happened to spot him.

 

Moving on. Buffy was beyond irritated with a certain boyfriend of hers. Before they’d left for the Scooby meeting, she had made it perfectly clear that she wanted nothing of her latest vamp attack to be mentioned to her friends. Riley had walked into Giles’ home right behind her and promptly blabbed all. From there, Willow, Xander, and Giles had delivered their reaction in perfect unison. Which would’ve been funny, if she hadn’t been so damn pissed. Willow looked over at Tara, confusion etched all over her face, then back at Buffy. Walking toward her best friend of five years, she sat down next to her. Buffy’s lack of disgust and spazz-y reaction at something of this magnitude, especially since it had to do with Spike, was unnerving her.

 

"Buffy, are you sure you’re all right? I mean... you’re acting awfully calm about this whole thing," she said, chewing on her lower lip. Xander picked up where his friend left off.

 

"Yeah, Buff. Where’s you with the wiggy-ness? Are you still in shock? Do I need to make with the coffee for you?" Buffy raised an eyebrow at Xander, quirking her lips, then shook her head and sighed.

 

"No, no, no. Guys, I am FINE, I swear it! Like I said, I’m used to this now. Just be glad that Spike didn’t do what he said he’d do when he got the chip out." When everyone looked confused, Buffy sighed in irritation and brought her hands in front of her to help illustrate her words.

 

"KILL ME?" Willow looked guilty, Xander looked sheepish. Tara was quiet, a hint of sympathy touching the surface of her features. Anya was, to a point, ignoring everything. She didn’t really care about it. So what if Spike had bitten Buffy? The only reason she was alive was because Spike had a thing for her (just because she never kept her thoughts to herself, didn’t mean she didn’t know how to). Dawn was either extremely excited, or she’d sat down on a bunch of cushion springs, because she was bouncing up and down in her seat with a huge grin on her face. Giles just looked tired. And Riley, of course, was pissed. He stomped forward.

 

"Buffy, he’s out free again. He’s an animal! He can kill, and he will kill, you know it! You have to get rid of him!" Buffy folded her arms and sent him a scowl.

 

"Oh, so now you’re telling me what to do? Spike has been harmless up till now. If he’d wanted to kill me, he would’ve. Instead, all he did was take a bite and drink – not drain, drink. And I say when Spike goes or not. As soon as he makes a move, I will kill him. Until then, if you can manage not to go barging into something that isn’t any of your business, leave it be. Spike is my responsibility – all vampires and demons are. Mine, not yours. Deal with it, Riley. If you go leaping into things way out of your league, you know you’re gonna get yourself killed." Riley stared at his girlfriend in shock. Buffy glared at him for a minute longer before shaking her head and walking out the door.

 

Riley looked toward Giles, trying to find a vote of support from the Watcher. Giles merely shook his head and replied, "Buffy has done whatever she wanted since the moment she was Called. She refused to listen to Angel, her friends, me, and she even quit the Council." He took off his glasses and narrowed his eyes at the boy. "Therefore I’d suggest that, if you want her to listen to you, don’t try to force her. That will just make her push you away even more. And I doubt you’d want that."

 

Riley merely nodded.

 

 

 

As day passed EVER so slowly into night, Buffy had successfully managed to avoid every single person that was just looking to get on her bad side. She could sense that Riley had been trying to find her during patrol, and she hoped to God that he knew well enough that they were having what was called a fight, and would not be welcome in her home tonight. Still, just in case he didn’t figure it out, maybe she should send Spike to "bump" into him and pickpocket the key off of him...

 

No. NO! NO thoughts of Spike! Spike-thoughts were bad and, and evil, and wrong.

 

She was going crazy.

 

As it was, Dawn had come up to see her earlier, and had found Buffy tearing apart her bed, talking to the sheets, and yelling at poor Mr. Gordo. She’d immediately made a U-turn and ran back downstairs, where she hid for the rest of the evening until Willow and Tara had picked her up for a movie. Great. She’d alienated her sister.

 

"Throw me a couple of MORE curve balls, why don’t you?" she yelled at the ceiling. Joyce Summers was incredibly lucky that she wasn’t home tonight. Her eldest was a little more off her block than usual. They were lucky that there were only two vampires that had a free invite into their house. Good thing that Angel had moved to L.A. And Spike was harmless... well, not too harmless. But even without the chip, he hadn’t been that bad.

 

It would be a wise thing never to mention that little thought to him. Ever.

 

Cursing the day she was Chosen, Buffy shed her clothes and cuddled up into her bed. Throwing a fit wasn’t gonna do anything – there was nobody around to listen. So sleeping was pretty much her only alternative right now. She sighed and turned off her lamp.

 

"Goodnight," she called out softly, to whoever might hear.

 

She woke up to the sound of metal clinking lightly. Still groggy, she lifted her arm to rub the sleep out of her eyes, only to find that she couldn’t move it. She tilted her head up and saw that it had been locked securely to her bedpost with handcuffs. She heard another clink and turned her head to the other side, noticing the same thing of her other arm.

 

Okay. She was not gonna freak. She was NOT gonna freak. She was NOT gonna –

 

"What the fuck?!" she shrieked.

 

-- freak.

 

She heard a low chuckle and turned her head frantically to search for the source. And that’s when she saw the darkened figure in the corner of the room. Her eyes widened and she swallowed hard.

 

"Uh... Riley?" she asked hopefully. If it was Riley, she was gonna kick his ass the second she broke out of these damn things.

 

The figure moved closer to the side of her bed, and the voice spoke out again.

 

"That’s an insult," the man’s voice said, the strong North London accent appearing amidst the working class tones that had overtaken it a century and two decades earlier.

 

Uh-oh. North London? He was British?

 

"Spike?" she asked meekly. The figure obliged to her question, moving forward and giving her the full glimpse at his white blonde curls, cerulean blue eyes and cocky, smug smirk plastered all over his pale face. His tongue curled against his teeth.

 

"Hello, cutie," he murmured. Buffy swallowed again and threw back her head to scream. Maybe if her mom was back, or Dawn woke up –

 

Her thoughts were cut off the second Spike put his hand over her mouth. He ‘tsk’ed and shook his head.

 

"Nah-ah, luv. Not gonna happen. You should know your sis better’n that, anyhow. She’s a heavier sleeper than you are." He cupped her chin and tilted her head up to look in her eyes. "Isn’t she?" Buffy cursed inside her head. Fuck; she’d forgotten that fact. Buffy had once figured out that Dawn would wake up from being poked just once, but otherwise, she’d sleep like a log through the world’s next apocalypse. Slowly, reluctantly, she nodded. Spike smiled and removed his hand. Buffy shook her head slightly, then peered at him.

 

"Why are you here? What are you doing?" Spike raised his eyebrows.

 

"Well, luv. Last time we met was quite fun. Been thinkin’ about it lately. Decided I needed to come visit, see if I can maybe get it to move a little... further." As he said those words, Buffy watched his eyes move in a slow path over her body. She gulped audibly.

 

"You sick bastard... what, are you gonna rape me or something? Just fuckin’ wait until I get out of these cuffs, you’ll never be able to use that dick again!" She punctuated her sentence by kicking out and rattling the cuffs. Spike chuckled and moved onto the bed next to her, running one cold finger over her midriff and up her shirt. The effect it had on her burning skin immediately produced a gasp and she settled down, staring at him with wide eyes. He tilted his head as his hand slid out of her shirt, then moved up to cup her breast.

 

"I never said it was for my own pleasure... well, maybe a little for my own. Besides," he leaned down and gently licked her earlobe. "How do you know that you might not just like this a little more than me?" She turned her head and stared at him, biting her lower lip.

 

"What are you going to do?" she asked in a whisper. Spike simply responded by directing his eyes to her abdomen. She followed his gaze, and Spike reached out the hand that was on her breast, placing it gently on her pelvis. Her eyes widened and she kicked out again.

 

"Spike, don’t you dare. You know better than I do that these cuffs are NOT gonna hold me for long! I will get out of them!" Spike laughed softly, slipping his fingers under her cotton pajama shorts and tugging on the front of her panties.

 

"So get out of them already." Buffy attempted to do just that, but at her first tug, Spike swooped down and held his index finger against her pussy lips. Buffy’s eyes bugged out and she let out a gasp. Spike smiled with pride, then leaned down to kiss her cheek, nuzzling his forehead against hers. His finger continued forward, sliding between her lips and sliding down slowly. The feeling of his cold finger made shivers break out all across her body, and she turned her head to his, staring in wonder. Spike reached out his free arm and placed it behind her, tugging her close. His lips kissed her forehead as his fingers found her clit and gently began to circle it, never touching, always teasing, until Buffy began thrusting her hips up. Relenting, he gently pressed against the swollen wet nub, earning a relieved moan for his attention. His head lowered and he lightly captured her vein between his lips, sucking softly. His hips began to move on their own as he ground his growing bulge against her thigh. His teeth gently bit down over his mark and Buffy let out another low moan, thrusting her hips up.

 

Buffy felt like she was going to black out from the whole thing. Spike was arousing her so far beyond arousal that she didn’t know what to do with herself. His fingers were doing things unimaginable things to her, things that Riley had never even thought of doing to her. She turned and buried her face in his neck to muffle a cry as he slipped three fingers inside of her tight, hot tunnel, stretching her. The feel of his hardened cock against her, the ministrations of his hand, the intensity and gentleness... oh how he was touching her was driving her crazy. Her hips bucked up against his hand and she felt Spike pull away slightly. Her eyes opened and she found him staring down at her, a trademark grin and a devilish gleam in his eyes not giving away any of his intentions.

 

"Harder," she whispered, the only word she could force out of her mouth. Spike’s eyebrows rose, and he obliged, pumping his hand to the limit inside of her. Buffy’s breathing was erratic, and her entire sense of awareness was about to be obliterated; she was just seconds away from what was bound to be a massive orgasm.

 

Grinding himself roughly against her, Spike tilted his head and ran his tongue over her neck. He didn’t stop there, though, and Buffy’s entire body arched as Spike’s tongue slid down to the valley between her breasts. He tugged her tank top away with his teeth, then sucked and nibbled lightly at the soft skin. Buffy was near tears from the passion mounting inside of her. Pinpricks of icy heat covered her skin, making her shiver all at once. Her green eyes opened and she stared at the ceiling blankly. She was actually seeing stars. Bright, bright stars, burning, white, blue, red, green, exploding, pulsing, shattering, breaking, falling, falling...

 

Spike pulled his hand away after Buffy let out a strained, helpless shriek of orgasmic strength. He gazed at her heaving, glistening body, licking his lips. Oh, god, it would just be so easy right now to just take her...

 

But he couldn’t. He had to do this slowly, draw it out. Make her admit a few things, first. Seduce her from that stupid prick of a boyfriend, before they actually consummated anything. Then, finally, he had to get her to reciprocate his claim on her. They would belong to each other, and nobody would be able to do anything about it. Then maybe, he might be able to get her to feel something toward him, besides her usual disgust and hate. The thought of the Slayer falling in love with him was a little further out than too good to be true, but dammit, he was gonna keep with it. He didn’t care how hopeless it got.

 

He waited until she’d refocused and was staring at him again with heavy-lidded, amazed eyes, before his tongue snaked out and licked the result of her release off of his long, pale digits slowly. Buffy, mesmerized, licked her own lips as she watched his tongue. Then, as she realized what had just happened, the controlling part of her brain came back and screamed at her. She let out a soft wail of self-loathing and disgust, rattling the handcuffs.

 

"Let me out of these, you pervert! How dare you? How dare you even THINK to touch me like that? Take the stupid cuffs off, then get out! I swear to God, the next time you come near me, I will kill you!" She was sobbing now. Great. <Cheers, mate. There’s a point for you. You made the girl cry, you nit,> his brain reprimanded, and suddenly he felt guilty. He just wanted to hug her and comfort her now, more than anything. He wanted to soothe her, and reassure her, and... He swallowed hard.

 

"Buffy, luv, listen to me," he murmured softly. She shook her head furiously, refusing to stop crying. "Yes, pet. Look at me, listen to me, just for a second."

 

"No!" she cried out. "How could you do this to me? If you weren’t sick before, I don’t know what to call you now, Spike! You violated me, you don’t have to fuck me to violate me, and you did! What, are you gonna tell me that it’s not like that, then feed me some bull about you wanting –" The next sound Buffy made was a muffled ‘mmph!’ as Spike shoved his lips passionately to hers. Gently cupping her face in both hands, his let his kiss tell her what he wanted to say. Buffy unconsciously responded to the kiss eagerly, letting out a soft moan of pleasure. Spike lightly slipped his tongue into her mouth, just for a second, and smiled softly when she responded, sliding her own tongue into his mouth. He nibbled at her lips softly for a minute more before pulling away slowly and resting his forehead against hers. She gasped softly, trying to catch her breath, before tilting her head up to look in his eyes. Her nose touched his, and she gently pressed her forehead to his.

 

"Spike," she whispered softly. He lifted a hand to touch her cheek.

 

"Shhh... Hush now, luv." He slipped the key to the manacles out of his pocket and gently unlocked her arms. Lifting her wrists, he kissed each one, rubbing them soothingly, before looking up at the Slayer again. "You need to sleep now. Get your strength up, pet. You need to be strong to protect kid sis an’ all." He leaned forward and kissed her lips, then her forehead before lightly pushing her down in the bed and covering her up. "G’night, sweet," he murmured, before walking to the window, preparing to jump out.

 

"Spike," she called out. He turned at the sound of her voice and tilted his head questioningly. She bit her lower lip.

 

"I’m sorry." He nodded his head and tossed her a smile.

 

"Nothin’ you said that I didn’t deserve, pet. ‘S alright," he replied good-naturedly. Hey, why should he lie? Technically, in a way, he had taken advantage of her. But if she was gonna apologize to him, the Slayer apologizing to William the Bloody, then hell, he’d accept it. "Thanks, pet." Buffy nodded, still watching his every move.

 

"Be careful." He smiled again.

 

"Always, luv."

 

He climbed out the window and jumped down to the ground without the aid of the tree.

 

 

 

As soon as he got down to the ground, he put his face in his hands. Fuck. He hadn’t meant to get so wishy-washy and goody-goody with her. Christ, he was supposed to be a bad ass, meant to be a bad ass, and he was comforting the Slayer because he’d made her cry. He grumbled and cursed at himself as he walked off to the crypt.

 

"I’m getting soft in my old age," he muttered.

 

 

 

Buffy stayed awake for at least twenty minutes after Spike left.

 

<Holy shit, what a kiss.>

 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t kissed her before. The spell last year that Willow had bollixed up had left them crawling all over each other, always kissing, and if not kissing, then at least touching in some way or another. He was an amazing kisser, and until tonight, she’d forgotten just how good he was.

 

The difference between those kisses, and tonight’s, though... Well, last year had been a spell, obviously. Maybe there had been some form of affection under there, but for the most part, they were acting out the roles of a pre-newly-wed couple. None of their kisses had meant anything, at all.

 

Tonight’s kiss had shot her straight into the stratosphere.

 

There’d been something about it, something real, and emotional, and private. Like he’d wanted to tell her something, but hadn’t actually had the nerve to say it.<Well, damn, he sure picked a good way to tell me whatever it was.>

 

She sighed and fell back. She had to stop thinking of Spike. She had a boyfriend, one with whom she was pissed at for the moment. But nevertheless, she had one, and she couldn't just go off and let Spike do whatever he pleased to her. Even if it was for her. And even if it did make her feel like she was the only thing on the face of the earth that got to enjoy that sort of thing.

 

Argh.

 

She rolled over and went to sleep.

 

<Less thinking. Sleep now. Thinking will somewhat resume tomorrow. Somewhat.>

 

Right.

 

THAT was gonna be easy.

 

---

Out of My Head

Part 3 

 

When Buffy woke up the following morning, she felt sated, relaxed and... totally completely astonished. She recalled what had happened last night with Spike pretty clearly (and when she did – recall it, that is – she wound up with a burning blush on her cheeks and a delicate throb between her legs for her trouble.) She couldn’t believe she’d allowed him to get away with... doing that to her.

 

Not that it was a bad thing. Far from it.

 

On the contrary -- it felt amazing. She couldn’t fathom some of the things his fingers had done to her, the extra areas he’d found, and the motions his fingers had introduced. Spike had lit an icefire inside of her, making her insides melt, freeze, clutch, and burn all at once. Her eyes flashed and her head fell back as she remembered the feeling of her orgasm. Christ; she could’ve sworn there had been fireworks going off.

 

Sigh. This was not good. Thinking of Spike was gonna drive her insane. And in her mind, Crazy Buffy somehow just didn’t seem as effective as Sane Slayer Buffy was.

 

Besides. She had to focus on what she was gonna do about her stupid, self-righteous, overbearing, bossy, controlling, over-protective, bordering right on the freaking edge of becoming an ex, boyfriend.

 

<< riiiiiiinnnnng!!!!! >>

 

Speak of the devil.

 

She sighed heavily and wearily picked up the phone.

 

"Hello?" she asked. A sharp intake of breath was heard on the other line.

 

"Buffy?" She sighed. Well, duh; who else would have the misfortune of having to wake up at this hour?

 

"Hi, Riley," she replied, making sure to keep a cool, curt tone in her voice.

 

"Buffy. We need to talk." Buffy paused for a minute to roll her eyes. He probably thought he was being the Big Man of the relationship. Bleggh.

 

"Yeah, we do." Riley gave a soft, relieved breath, and Buffy smirked. He was scared shitless!

 

"Yeah. So, I’ll come over tonight, uh, around nine. We’ll, uh... talk before you go on patrol. If we can, um, get something sorted out, then I’ll go with you. Good?"

 

"Sure, good, yeah. See you tonight, then, Riley."

 

"Okay. I love you." Initiating Buffy auto-response. Set for: LIE, LIE, LIE!

 

"I love you, too. And I really hope we can work something out, sweetie. I’ll be waiting for you. Bye," she said in a sickly sweet innocent voice – the one Riley enjoyed listening to over (and over, and over, and over again) in bed.

 

"B—"

 

<<click>>

 

Buffy growled as she slammed down the phone and got up to get dressed. Right now, she didn’t love Riley. She was sick to death and pissed off at Riley and ready to cut off his dick. And she wasn’t anywhere NEAR hopeful for a reconciliation. She didn’t get a chance to be angry too often anymore, and she wanted to relish it. And a good way to release anger was either by pounding on Giles, or by hearing what Riley had to say, then beating on him for "training."

 

Damn.

 

Well, THAT was a fan-fucking-tastic way to start the day.

 

 

 

Spike grinned evilly to himself as he walked around the upper level of the crypt, barefoot. Ha! He’d brought off the Slayer! And he knew – he knew – that she’d been thinking of him when she came – the upside to a claiming. Even though she hadn’t acknowledged the claim, he’d had her blood. Therefore, without her even knowing it, she was bonded to him. He could sense her every feeling, and hear her every thought, even though she couldn’t sense his feelings, or hear his thoughts. Yet.

 

That grin had been stuck on his face ever since he’d gotten back to the crypt. After his initial irritation at his poofy attitude toward Buffy last night, his smugness and pride at what he’d done had fully overtaken him. He’d made her scream, cum, and moan – things he never thought would ever happen. Not with her. And that muscle-bound moron of a boyfriend of hers had no fucking clue.

 

< Yet > he giddily added, rubbing his hands together with a superior smirk on his face. God... he was SO gonna be there when the shit hit the fan.

 

Hey, the dickhead had it coming. Spike had been put through absolute hell when he’d first discovered the chip, and it was ALL Army Fuck’s fault. Him and the stupid fucking Initiative.

 

Okay, enough about that. He needed to contemplate his next move in his seduction of the Slayer.

 

He’d kissed her, and unless she was completely barmy, she had felt the feeling behind it. She’d obviously liked it; Spike licked his lips as he remembered the feel of her lips pressing back fiercely against his. He wondered... well, he’d fingered her now. That had, hopefully, given her a taste of just how damn good he really was. And apparently, his little Slayer was having problems with the big lunkhead, so he was already on his way.

 

Shit, she’d been so tight. She’d been with three people (and had apparently done it more than once with the latter two; he convulsed slightly and shivered as he imagined Dickhead’s hands on his girl), but her entrance had still been nearly virginal. Hmmm... maybe his next move should be a little... stretch test.

 

He sat back on the sarcophagus as he imagined what he could do. He would draw her in, make her feel comfortable and safe around him. She’d soon want him enough that she’d go crazy if she weren’t touching him in some way. He’d smile as he watched Buffy kick the prick out of the picture. Then possibly, he’d scent him, find him, and drain... no. His blood was filled with just enough goofy, irregular schoolboy crap that Spike would probably contract whatever it was the boy had stuck firmly up his ass. No, he wouldn’t drain him. Finn’s blood wasn’t even worthy to be on Spike’s hands.

 

He’d still kill him, though.

 

Then, finally, once Buffy was fully reassured about him, finally comfortable, and happy, and with him... possibly in the throes of passion... he’d finally kill her.

 

Good plan. Not the best, but it was all he could work with. The Scooby crew had most likely been told of his little visit to the land of Slayer’s Blood Euphoria. If Buffy hadn’t been completely, fully affected by his claim... and hadn’t jumped in to defend him, or at least calm them down... then, shit, Giles himself was gonna plow in any second now and rip him a new one before he killed him.

 

Spike’s eyes widened.

 

< Please let the claim have worked, please let the claim have worked, please let the claim have worked... >

 

A half-hour later, and he was still chanting the mantra. Luckily, nobody had come storming in through the door of the crypt with the flames of hell blazing after them, so he figured he was safe. For now.

 

Sigh. The only problem with his little scheme was that he was starting to have weird, gooshy feelings for the Slayer. Bad! Bad, bad, bad! Very bad. Especially in his line of business, and most particularly for him. He was the Slayer of two Slayers. And now he was falling for his third – the one he couldn’t kill. The one he wanted to kill.

 

Didn’t wanna kill.

 

Did.

 

Didn’t.

 

 

Did.

 

 

Didn’t!

 

 

Where the hell did his demon stand in this whole damn decision, anyway?!

 

 

And what the fuck was wrong with him?

 

 

He couldn’t help it though! (insert whine here.) Somehow, he... felt connected to her, and not just by way of her blood. There was something electric in the air whenever he was around her, even a mile within her vicinity. And he was always thinking of her, now. It was blissful and frustrating at the same time. Back when Dru had dumped him, it had been because of his seemingly endless obsession with the Slayer. She was seeing what he couldn’t. She could see the Slayer, invading his thoughts.

 

 

And it hadn’t been visions of her death that she had seen.

 

 

Buffy smiling. Buffy laughing. Buffy sad. Buffy angry. Buffy dancing (with stupid pals). Buffy being brave. Buffy fighting. Buffy fighting him. Buffy pounding on him. Buffy straddling him. Buffy straddling his cock. Buffy fucking him. Buffy fucking ONLY him. Buffy fucking him a lot. Buffy moaning. Buffy screaming. Buffy cumming. Buffy cumming hard. Buffy cumming hard all over him...

 

 

Okay, yeah, he was getting carried away.

 

 

He stopped, then shrugged. Eh. He had a while till sunset. A couple of more Buffy-fantasies wouldn’t hurt.

 

 

He grinned, ran his hand over his taut stomach, then plopped back in his recliner.

 

 

Not even a second later, and his jeans were on the ground, his head rolled back, eyes shut, smile on, hands stroking feverishly, hips thrusting desperately.

 

 

Sigh... sweet release.

 

 

 

 

 

A loud scream pierced the air. Anya, busily rummaging amongst Giles’ belongings, jumped out of her skin (figuratively speaking, of course. You had to be reeeeeeeally careful of what you said on the Hellmouth), nearly dropping an extremely old Tiki ‘god of wine’ statue or something. Turning, she looked over Giles’ couch where she found Willow and Tara with comforting hands on Buffy’s shoulders. Buffy herself had her face in her hands, letting out little whines of unhappiness. Dawn sat across from them, flipping boredly through a research book while raising her eyebrows in amusement at her sister, without lifting her head. Buffy captured their attention once again by banging her head down on Giles’ coffee table and whining. Again.

 

 

"I HATE this! Riley is being such a... God, I can’t even say anything bad about him! I KNOW he means well, and I know he wants to help and worries about me, but he nearly died because he wanted to be freaking Superman! I really wanna give him more credit, but the more he interferes, the more he’s liable to die. He thinks he’s the goddamn super-hero; he thinks he has to match me for everything I do! He does NOT get that I just want him to be there for me. I want him to stay behind the scenes, but he wants to be out there so he can protect me, like I can’t fucking take care of myself!"

 

 

"Well, he’s got good reason to want to protect you. You are his girlfriend, and he loves you, Buffy. He doesn’t want you to get hurt, ya know?" Willow was trying as hard as she could to understand why Buffy was so pissed at her boyfriend. Really hard.

 

 

To think, it had all only started last week. And over what? Spike getting his chip out. That had resulted in the Scoobies’ main couple having their relationship slipping and sliding, and occasionally free-falling downhill.

 

 

Spike hadn’t even been seen since then. He was completely incommunicado. Either that, or Riley had gone out against Buffy’s orders and dusted him. She truly, truly hoped that wasn’t the case, because as much of a sinister force as Spike was now without the chip, she liked the Master vampire. Well, save for his (always inevitable) cruel jabs. But otherwise, he tended to be a pretty good listener. He gave good advice, and he really, truly did seem almost human at times. He had feelings, for God’s sake. All in all, Spike was a nice guy when he wasn’t threatening to kill them... although that hadn’t happened in a really long time... oh, and that was another thing. Killing.

 

 

There’d been none.

 

 

There hadn’t been any reports of Spike going on a psychopathic rampage and killing everyone and everything in sight. Buffy, on a whim, had gone to check out the butcher’s, and received some startling information – Spike was still getting baggy blood there.

 

 

Oh. Yeah. And then there was the minor fact that SPIKE HADN’T KILLED BUFFY.

 

 

< Yet > a tiny, timid voice inside her mind whimpered. She shrugged off the bad vibes and turned her attention back to Buffy. She was describing the talk she’d had with Riley the day after they found out about Spike’s little bite-an’-slurp.

 

 

"... and he had the nerve to say that HE forgave ME for yelling at him last week! Like I’M the fucking bad guy here! I mean... not that Riley’s the bad guy, but... UGH, this is so frustrating! I love him, and I love being with him, and I’m glad he’s here. The thing is, I used to love hearing him talk big and see him take charge when he was coming with me to take out baddies. But now, it’s like... every time he opens his mouth, I just wanna strangle him!" Buffy was nearly in tears. Feeling this way was so exhausting and heart wrenching. And, god, to top it all off, Spike had apparently developed some sort of sexual interest in her, and THAT in itself had thrown her for a loop. Not just a normal loop. Oh, no, this was Spike she was dealing with here. Spike had loops, and Spike’s loops were the kind of loops on a goddamn roller coaster; the kind that tossed you around three or four times until you were completely immobile for fear of puking.

 

 

First, there had been his little impromptu grind session with her on the floor of Doctor Overheiser’s office. Then there had been that little incident in her bedroom, when he’d tied her up, lit her on fire, then ignited something even warmer when he’d... kissed her...

 

 

She caught her eyes glazing and bolted upright again.

 

 

< Whoops, train derailing. Get your thoughts back on TRACK, Buff! >

 

 

Just recently, Spike had returned to her bedroom again, with the handcuffs. Two nights ago, in fact. He’d done the exact same things to her. Except this time, it had been extended and a little more... lewd. The image of something long, thick and hard, with shiny, light blue plastic... something that happened to belong to her... popped into her head, and she tried (hard) not to become a ripe tomato. Instead, she turned her focus back onto her griping.

 

 

"Seriously, you should’ve heard the condescending tone he was using with me. He was treating me like a four year old, and GOD, I was so ready to just whap him across the room! Who the hell gives him the right to talk down to me the way he did? Just because he’s a freaking psych major, and thinks he knows all there is to know about Buffy Summers... argh...."

 

 

Willow didn’t exactly know what to say to her. When Angel had been the problem, she somehow knew exactly what to do, exactly what to say to try and comfort the Slayer. But now, with Riley... they’d seemed so perfect at first. Now... now it appeared that Riley wanted the active role in what Buffy could or couldn’t do. He wanted to take control and commandeer Buffy’s life. Buffy was beside herself, not knowing what to do. And Willow, for once, had no idea what to do for her.

 

 

She hated to say it, but it looked like break-up was imminent in the future. Poor Buffy was aching over the way things were going.

 

 

Question was, why did she seem more annoyed than heartbroken about Splitsville?

 

 

 

 

 

Fighting.

 

 

GOD. The rush of it all. The adrenaline pumping through your system. The blood rushing through your veins. Buffy rolled back on the balls of her feet in excitement as a particularly large vampire approached her, baring his teeth and snarling. He tilted his head, sniffing once. A large smile curled on his face as he recognized her scent. The scent of strength and power. The scent of...

 

 

"Mmmm. The Slayer," he hissed through a row of ugly, gnarled teeth.

 

 

Buffy grinned back wickedly.

 

 

"Compost," she greeted back, then whipped out her stake. Seconds until dusting: ninety and counting.

 

 

The vampire barged toward her, and Buffy, scooched to the side, just barely avoiding being bulldozed by the behemoth. Instead of turning around, she cartwheel-ed forward, then flipped once, landing in a crouch, facing him.

 

 

And THEN, she rushed him.

 

 

The dull thud of skin against skin echoed across the graveyard. Buffy was thrilled. She hadn’t had a good challenge in a while, ever since a certain someone (*coughcough*spike*coughcough*) had avoided her for the past three days. It had already been two minutes and forty seconds since they’d begun, and Buffy wasn’t planning on ending it any time soon.

 

 

Apparently Big, Gross and Burly had other plans. He grabbed Buffy by her neck, lifted her up and slammed her down painfully hard onto a large, flat tombstone. Buffy moaned softly from the pain. Fuck... if that hadn’t broken her back, then it at LEAST had to have cracked some ribs. This could prove to be bad.

 

 

Still, she got up and continued to fight. < Ever the trooper, Buff. >

 

 

Right hook, left upper cut, roundhouse kick, quick right jab, knee to the groin. Hah, that always got th—

 

 

Whoa. She hadn’t expected that.

 

 

Suddenly, she was flat on her back, looking up at the sky, with a big, heavy vampire on top of her, lowering his face to her neck. She tensed and bucked roughly, letting out a whimper of displeasure. She felt something cloudy surround her immediately, covering her with a powerful haze and suddenly, the vamp bolted straight up, staring at her almost in fear. He got up to run and made it about five paces before a swish of green and brown dashed past her.

 

 

And then he was dust.

 

 

Buffy sat up and looked around in confusion until she found her savior. Then sighed in annoyance as Riley got in her line of sight. He walked toward her with a stern, angry look on his face before grabbing her arm and jerking her up. She let out a cry of pain and grabbed at her ribs, then jerked away from him furiously, glaring with an almost feral look about her eyes. Either Riley didn’t even notice, or her played it off really well. He shook his head.

 

 

"God, what is it with you, Buffy? I think you were right about being a vampire chew toy. Only difference is that I think you like it. You can’t seem to get enough of it!" She scowled angrily at the man that had once been the center of her world.

 

 

"Oh, yeah, Riley. I just love feeling teeth in my neck and getting sucked away from life. That’s the reason I let Angel, Dracula and Spike all have me, you know. In fact, that’s why I keep Spike around. I’m like his very own little blood tap. If he’d just drank the tiniest bit more, I could be free of this life, and free of you, Mr. Bossy, Controlling Guy!" she finished lamely. Ferocity entered his eyes the minute she had mentioned Angel and Spike. Two vampires that happened to be "related," and who both had an interest in the Slayer. On different levels, of course, but Riley was starting to suspect a common connection working in with the younger vampire. The same sort of connection his Sire had had with Buffy. Buffy lowered her eyes and watched his fists clench and unclench. She looked back up at his face, and saw that his teeth were clenching tightly as well.

 

 

"Maybe I should get some vamp to turn me, then. Seeing as how only walking corpses can get your attention, maybe I should get your precious Spike to turn me. Since you seem to like being such a vamp whore --" Her eyes widened, then reacted on instinct, hauling off and punching him brutally in the face. He let out a cry and fell, clutching his nose, his eyes staring up at her in astonishment.

 

 

She’d hit him. She’d actually hit him!

 

 

"You mother fucker. Get the hell away from me. Leave. Leave before I tear you apart and shove a goddamn telephone pole up your ass! Get the fuck away from me, and don’t you DARE try to talk to me! Don’t talk to me again unless it’s an apology that’s coming out of that fat mouth of yours! You... you disgust me right now, and I have no idea how I could’ve put up with your bullshit for so long. Go!" Riley stared at her, breathing harshly out of his mouth, before his eyes lowered. Talk about the Royal Fuck-Up. This one truly took the cake. He’d reacted too strongly on some strange form of jealousy, and now she hated him. He got up, still holding his nose, and started to walk off. He turned back hopefully when she called his name.

 

 

"Riley," she called, tilting her head. "About getting Spike to turn you... Don’t ever joke around about that, because..." Her expression hardened. "Spike wouldn’t even bother to touch your blood with his boots, let alone suck it straight out of a jackass like you." Riley’s eyes widened with hurt, and he turned away again, stumbling out of the cemetery in shock.

 

 

No... THAT was the Royal Fuck-Up.

 

 

 

 

 

Buffy drew a deep breath and exhaled, closing her eyes. And amazingly, a calm, settling peace washed over her. She smiled. Hah! Who’d’ve thunk it? Breaking it off with Riley had done the trick. She felt more calm and relaxed now than she’d been since Spike had last left her.

 

 

Speaking of...

 

 

Her neck tingled and a shiver ran straight down her back. She turned around, yelping when she came face to face with the tall, well-muscled bloodsucker. He gently ran a single finger down her bare shoulder.

 

 

"Been wondering when you’d get the hint."

 

 

He hadn’t been spying on her. Really, he hadn’t. Okay, so maybe he had, early on in the night, but up until around ten minutes ago, he’d been cuddled up in his crypt, trying to watch Nick at Nite. He’d felt something shoot through him, and a warning light go off in his head. The feeling was directly linked with Buffy, and he figured something was wrong, so he’d jumped up and dashed out of his crypt. When he’d gotten to the little clearing, he’d spotted a fat-ass vamp about to chow down on the tiny girl. He’d smirked when the vamp had suddenly scented Spike’s mark, right when the claim took control, protecting her from the oversized blob. The grin had grown wider when he’d jumped up and ran off in fear.

 

 

THEN the grin had shrunk into a frown when he saw that Asshole had taken him out.

 

 

The grin had come back when Buffy had decked him, then told him to get the hell out. And by the time Buffy had told him the bit about his blood, Spike’s entire head could’ve been considered one huge, fangy grin. Two thoughts ran clearly and coherently through his head. The first was < About fucking time! >

 

 

The second was < GOD, I love her. >

 

 

Buffy stared up at the bleached vampire, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat. Spike licked his lower lip. Dammit; he’d wanted to mess with her head a little first, piss her off and tease her a bit. But now... looking at her, all hot and blushy and sweaty and tousled and almost anticipating of what he’d do...

 

 

Fuck. Now he was just horny. Hungry, too, but mostly horny. His dick seemed to be doing all of the thinking for him the more he was around Buffy. He pulled her close and flashed her a pleased smile as she gasped. His erection, fully hard and straining, reaching out to her, was nestled firmly against the taut muscles of her stomach. Buffy whimpered softly as heat flooded between her legs. Ohhh, bad. So... so, bad... but good. Oh, good. Oh, god, so good... no, no, no, BAD!

 

 

< Come on, Buff, you can control yourself in front of him. Don't let him completely turn you into a big pile of Buffy mush. Don't let him control you. Stay strong. All you have to do is just... stay... strong. >

 

 

Spike leaned into her and nuzzled her neck for a moment, placing a kiss softly over her scars. Lifting his head, he kissed her forehead, then led a trail down to her eyes, her cheeks, her nose, and her chin, gently trying to coax her out of the little shell she seemed content to stay in. When she finally let her guard down, Spike grasped the back of her head roughly, and shoved his lips to hers, his unwittingly elongated fangs providing extra brutality in what was otherwise a completely passionate kiss. Buffy let out a sharp, pained, muffled cry and braced her hands against his chest, trying to pull away. When Spike refused to let go, Buffy resorted to violence, and brought her knee up between them.

 

 

Spike let out a howl and grabbed his midsection, backing away and staring at her with flashing yellow eyes. And suddenly, he was met with a hard, cruel punch to the jaw, one so powerful that it sent him flying back three feet. He promptly shot up, and let out a vicious growl, launching himself at her and grasping her shoulders tightly, switching instinctively to game face. He cocked his head, smirking at her evilly.

 

 

"You’re gonna wish you hadn’t a done that, luv," he growled. Buffy jerked out of his grip, and threw another punch at him.

 

 

"The only thing I’m wishing is that I’d dusted you when you came back to Sunnydale, Spike," she spat, punctuating her sentence with a hit to the gut and, as he doubled over, a kick to the back of his legs, sending him down. Spike grasped her leg as he hit the grass and jerked her down with him, catching her completely off guard. He grinned.

 

 

"So we’re gonna dance, then, are we, Slayer?" She jumped up before he had a chance to cover her, and executed a kick to the head.

 

 

"This isn’t dancing, Bleach Boy. This is me, kicking your sorry ass all over town for the five-hundredth time!" She stood over him and bashed him in the side of the head as soon as he got onto his knees. A complete and utter mistake, as Spike now had easy aim toward her middle and assaulted her with a barrage of punches to the gut. She gave just as good as she got, returning a punch for a punch, jab for a jab, kick for a kick.

 

 

Spike was in heaven.

 

 

Or as close as he could get, anyway.

 

 

He was getting harder by the minute, and was eager to finish the fight so that he could take her back to the crypt and engage in some, uh... Olympic acrobatics.

 

 

It was probably a bad idea for his more southern brain to bring that up, because now he was fully distracted. He didn’t even notice it when Buffy somersaulted over his head, landing behind him. He did notice, however, when she kicked him down and shoved his face to the ground. She sat on top of him and dug her knee into his back, grasping his hands and holding him down forcefully (which was probably a mistake; Spike seemed to like that too much.) She leaned down to speak in his ear, and he had to hold back a moan as he felt her small, humble, soft breasts press against him.

 

 

"I don’t know what you’ve been thinking about lately, or what weird fixations have been dancing around in your head, but I want it to stop. Now. Whatever this sick fascination is that you have with me, I want you to get over it. No more coming into my room at night, no more chaining me to the bed, no more following me on patrol," she narrowed her eyes, and he had the decency to look sheepish through the un-smooshed part of his face, "no more anything. Don’t toy around with me. I have a job to do, and you’re keeping me from doing it. But for some godforsaken reason, something is telling me not to just be done with you right now. For now, Spike, just back off. Because next time I won’t hesitate to put a redwood through your chest."

 

 

Spike let out a quiet growl – much like the one that he’d used to subdue her at the doctor’s – and Buffy instantly quieted down. For some weird reason, she felt chastised and apologetic. From Spike’s growl, he sounded like he was reprimanding her for disobeying him, like a mother would a child.

 

 

And abruptly, she yelped as Spike knocked her off of him, then crawled on top of her, holding all her limbs down. His icy fingers ran over her cheek and down her neck as his body settled comfortably over hers.

 

 

"Now I know you don’t mean any of that, pet," he replied in a deep, rumbling voice. Buffy avoided his eyes – somehow, she knew that staring into those hypnotic blue pools would immediately incapacitate her. It was a definite weak spot, and a BIIIIIIIIIIG no-no. "I’m sure you know better’n to threaten me. Be a good little chit, or I’ll hafta punish you..." He smiled at her satanically. "Unless you want me to punish you." The tone of his voice indicated that Spike’s idea of punishment was very obviously anything but an actual punishment. He lowered his head to her neck, his teeth sharp and at the ready to pierce her skin. She felt cool, useless air on her neck, and suddenly, she panicked, bucking him off of her and scrambling to her feet. Staring at him, breathing hard and wide-eyed, she raised a finger at him.

 

 

"Stay away from me, Spike. I mean it. Leave me alone. I don’t know what’s going on with you, or me for that matter, but I don’t wanna kill you. Don’t give me a reason to." She continued to back away slowly, keeping an eye on him the entire time until she was about ten feet away. Then she spun and bolted away.

 

 

Spike growled in frustration as he got up. Dammit! Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT! Now he was hungry and horny, and HE COULDN’T DO SHIT ABOUT IT!

 

 

Well, that wasn’t true. He could enjoy a nice toss off right in the middle of the cemetery, but then he might be caught by some big ugly, and that... would be BAD.

 

 

But he’d forgotten that he was no longer restricted by the government. He could feed now. He could kill. And he would kill. He’d fucking show that fucking bitch tease just how fucking scared of him she should be.

 

 

He wasn’t gonna let his hormones get in the way. Next time he saw her, he was gonna rip her throat out.

 

 

Of course, he knew he would never actually kill her. < Leave me to my own fucking fantasies, dammit! > he thought defensively at the rational, know-it-all part of his brain.

 

 

Anyway.

 

 

He smiled at the comforting thought, then shrugged. He was free now, and apparently wasn’t gonna get any tonight unless he resorted to Harmony, or his own hand. He might as well go get someone to eat.

 

 

Walking out of the cemetery and onto the street in a path that led in the direction opposite of Buffy’s home, Spike grumbled, rubbing his stomach. Shit. The little bitch kept getting stronger. That punch had really hurt!

 

 

Deciding to try the playground at Sunnydale Elementary School, Spike growled and grinned in pleasure when he saw the inevitable group of teenage kids hanging about and bullshitting around. Stupid kids; most of them had been brought up with rules forbidding them to stay outside in Sunnydale during the night, yet they all still did it anyway. Regular Sunnydale occurrences were quite famous amongst the children who were dumb enough to test the legends.

 

 

He walked toward the group and switched on a cool, suave demeanor. Three girls, five boys. All the boys were jock types. Two blonde girls, one brunette. They looked to all be around sixteen or seventeen. Picking up on a sense of nervousness in two of the girls – one of the blondes, and the brunette – Spike turned his attention to the slightly bolder girl. As if sensing him, she turned her head and caught his eye. Her own eyes widened in awe, and took on that dopey love struck look. She bit her lower lip and deftly adjusted her shirt, pulling it down slightly to bear her cleavage. Spike grinned and winked at the little bint; hook, line, and sinker. And all he’d had to do was look at her.

 

 

Saying that she needed to go over and check something out (God – er... somebody bless preternatural vampiric hearing) to her friends, he watched her approach the area he’d hidden in questioningly. Stepping out, he gave her a smoldering gaze and tilted his head. It definitely came in handy looking as good as he did. Even if he couldn’t ever see himself.

 

 

"Hullo, luv. Whatcha doin’ out here at this time a night?" he questioned, softening his voice and giving his accent a more uppercrest adjustment. He watched as her smile widened at his accent and chuckled to himself. She looked as if she was about to swoon. Stupid bint had no clue what was in store for her.

 

 

"Uh, j-just hanging out, w-with my friends, mister." Spike frowned disdainfully.

 

 

"Mister. Makes me sound old as all hell get out. Call me Spike." She nodded quickly and swallowed hard.

 

 

"Okay... Spike. Um... what are you doing out here all by yourself?" Spike smiled and walked forward, putting his hands on the girl’s shoulders gently. Just before he answered, he shifted into game face and bared his fangs in a wide grin.

 

 

"Lookin’ for a midnight snack," he growled. Clamping one large hand over the girl’s mouth as her eyes widened in fear, he dove lightning quick toward her neck, nearly dying (again) from hunger.

 

 

He stopped the second his teeth touched her neck, hearing a terrified little whimper escape her throat. Her heartbeat was drumming to an insane beat. Her blood was rushing in her veins, thrumming about in his ears, and driving him wild with bloodlust, but it was that one sound, that one little whimper, that made him stop. Slowly, he pulled away, his hand still over the girl’s mouth, and peered at her through the haze. And as soon as he looked at her, he saw Buffy.

 

 

The girl had Buffy’s eyes.

 

 

They weren’t exactly Buffy’s eyes, since the Slayer’s were a unique swatch of blue, green, gold and brown all in one with the tiniest hint of violet, but they were close enough as possible to the real thing. And instead of as before, when her fear would’ve delighted him and made him hunger for her more... it made his stomach churn, and he felt sick for what he’d been about to do.

 

 

Oh, bloody hell; he felt guilty. Ew. Ew, ew, ew!

 

 

His demon side and human-y side began to battle.

 

 

++Buffy would hate you if you killed this girl.

 

 

-- But I’m hungry!!!!

 

 

++ You could go to the goddamn butcher's and get some blood from there!

 

 

-- But she’s right here and fresh and warm, and it’s not like anyone would miss her anyway!

 

 

++ That isn't true, and you know it!

 

 

-- But she’s FOOD!

 

 

++ Well right now, what's more important to you? Killing? Or Buffy? You make the choice.

 

 

Spike let out a soft groan of disgust, reverting back to his human face. Glaring at the sky, he cursed loudly.

 

 

"Since when in the bloody hell did you assholes decide to give me a fucking CONSCIENCE?!" He then sighed and looked sincerely at the girl, peering at her with his beautiful, human blue eyes.

 

 

"Get goin’, luv. Don’t stay out at night in Sunnydale. You might run into someone like me that won’t let you go so easy." He tilted his head at her, taking his hand off of her mouth. "Not a word of this to anyone, luv. I might get my ass kicked if anyone found out that ole Spike’s gone soft. I’ve got a rep to maintain," he said, smiling kindly at the girl. The girl nodded quickly, awed and frightened at this monster/man that she’d encountered. She turned to leave, when Spike called out to her again.

 

 

"Be careful out here, pet. There’s lotsa nasties runnin’ around. Gather up your chums and get on home, quick as you can." The girl nodded again, then ventured a tiny smile at the vampire. Spike smiled back gently, then made a shooing motion. He felt like he was with the little Bit right now. Hmph. Dawn’s innocence; Buffy’s soul. What a way to bring a man down.

 

 

When the girl was gone, he turned and walked toward the butcher’s, shaking his head and growling.

 

 

"Bloody ponce, I am... Feeling bad for some dumb kid... Bloody hell! I’ve turned into the poof!"

 

 

 

 

 

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