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Out of My Head

Part 4 

 

He walked up to Giles’ home, letting out a sigh. Things were bad. Very, very bad. He figured that since the Scoobies seemed to need a meeting place, they would most definitely be here. Maybe they’d have some worth of information for him. Anything right now – from any one – would help him out. He knocked on the door as he opened it.

 

And was met by five very, very angry Scooby faces. The ones that probably worried him the most were the ones from a certain red head and a former Watcher. A certain angry redhead that also happened to be a witch, and a former Watcher that had dabbled in the black arts as a youth.

 

<This could be bad,> he thought. Finally Xander spoke up, standing up and letting go of Anya. Who he realized looked more excited at the upcoming exchange than vengeful. Xander shot him a sarcastic smirk.

 

"Riley. To what do we owe... this?" he asked, spreading his arms out and indicating that he really meant, "This isn’t your place anymore. Why the fuck are you here?"

 

That was definitely bad. Xander was giving him the attitude that he only reserved for a particularly annoying bleach blonde vamp.

 

Riley Finn took a deep breath and looked around at the group. Please, please, at least ONE friendly face that wouldn’t cast any harsh judgment on him...

 

Okay, okay, so he’d called Buffy a vamp whore. That was at the very top of the Very Big List of Very Wrong Things to Say to a Slayer. Every single person in this room was close to Buffy in some way – well, except for Willow’s, um, girlfriend (the thought that Willow was a lesbian still wigged him out a little). So there was no way that anyone would be on his side here. Willow looked like she was restricting herself from zapping his eyelids shut and siccing some flesh-eating scarab beetles on him. Xander cleared his throat and folded his arms, while Giles stood up, a silent vigil behind him.

 

"Are we gonna hear an answer sometime today, Commando Boy?" Riley winced. Eeek. Bad. Xander was calling him those – the names that – that Spike had taken to calling him. Damn, he’d made one mistake, and he’d already been dropped lower on the ladder than a soulless, remorseless vampire. The thought made him shudder.

 

"No, uh... I mean, yeah. Listen, guys, she’s really mad at me, and I really want to apologize, believe me, but she won’t let me anywhere near her. I was out of my head that night, I don’t know what I was thinking. I know I hurt her, and I’m really, REALLY sorry about it. But I need your help. I have to talk to her."

 

The minute he’d started talking, Willow had gotten up and walked out of the living room toward Giles’ study, content to stay angry at Riley, and Tara had followed to calm her down. Anya, sensing some big male thing was coming, had wanted to stay, but knew better. She got up and left the three men alone in the living room to sort things out. This could be bad. He was up against Buffy’s surrogate father, and surrogate older brother. There was no way he wasn’t gonna get shot down. Xander looked at him.

 

"Man, you are so lucky that Anya’s not a demon anymore, and that Willow just let you off with a Death glare. Otherwise, you’d be Crispy-Fried Riley, right there on the floor. And I doubt Giles is up to cleaning your mess –" Giles held his hand up and shot the dark-haired boy a look.

 

"Quiet, Xander." Turning to Riley, he considered him for a moment before speaking. "You called her nothing short of a prostitute, Riley. She’s never asked for vampires to bite her," he said. "She commanded Angel to in order to save his life. The Master took her blood by force. And she allowed Dracula to, just as she allowed Spike to take her blood. It’s a miracle Spike didn’t kill her – she and I were both certain that he would’ve drained her given half the chance. She is the Slayer; every vampire in the world wants a taste of her. Spike has even mentioned to us before that her blood is a powerful and strengthening force. They want it. It’s not her fault." Riley rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.

 

"I know, I know. It’s just, that night, when I found her, I was still a little angry about what she said to me last time. About me trying to control her? I was angry, and frustrated. And then it was coupled with what she’d said about being a vampire chew toy. And when I found her, this big vamp was on top of her, getting ready to bite her. I don’t know what she did, though. He was perfectly ready to sink his teeth into her, and then he just took off." Xander raised his eyebrows at the fair-haired boy, thoroughly unimpressed.

 

"And that led to you believe that she’s a vamp whore?" Xander shook his head. "Riley... I don’t know what your deal is. And if it’s jealousy issues, you need to get them way under control. Otherwise, just get the hell out of Sunnydale, and leave Buffy alone."

 

Riley watched quietly as Xander turned and left the room. Uh-oh. Alone with Giles. This could be life threatening.

 

Giles remained quiet for a bit, not facing him. He watched as the older man lifted his hand up to rub his brow. His glasses weren’t on. Was that a bad sign? He’d only been around Buffy’s friends for a year, and he hadn’t exactly gotten a handle on their habits. He was jolted back to reality when Giles turned his head and looked up at him, clearing his throat loudly, his eyes cold and unfeeling.

 

"I have no idea what possessed you to refer to my charge in the manner you did. Fortunately for you, I have found a way to control my anger over it." He stalked up to Riley, steeling his gaze and looking pure Ripper. "But my method shan’t last long. If, and when you make another mistake, you will truly wish you had never tangled with the Slayer." Giles turned to walk out, then fell back to say something else.

 

"I will do anything to see that Buffy is happy. And I will ensure that my Slayer stays happy. If keeping her far away from you is the way to go about that, then I shall continue to do so. As long as she is content and relaxed in the situation she is in, and competent in her slaying, as she is now, then rest assured you will not come within striking distance of the girl ever again." He scowled, his eyes narrowing. "Get out of my house."

 

Wow. He’d never encountered Giles in full Ripper force before.

 

He sighed as Giles left the room before he himself turned to walk out of the door. Buffy was happy without him? Buffy was happy without him? To borrow a Scooby phrase, this was NOT of the good!

 

He thought she was happy with him. At least, that was what she’d always told him. Something was wrong, something had to be wrong. He couldn’t just be out of the picture like –that- could he? He couldn’t live without this girl. And he was pretty damn sure it was the same on her end. Something had to be manipulating her, making her seem happy and fine, when truthfully, she must be miserable inside without him there!

 

*

Channeling Cordelia Chase. Hold please.

 

Calling all ego-maniacs, please report to Riley Finn. We repeat, all ego-maniacs, please report to Riley Finn at headquarters. Make sure your ego’s been fully inflated. Twenty times it’s own size is the minimum limit.

*

 

He shook his head and walked back to his apartment. Where the hell had that come from?

 

Something was up with Buffy, and he had a vague feeling that he knew who was behind it. He’d get to the bottom of this, even if it killed him.

 

Which, knowing Sunnydale, it probably would.

 

 

 

Spike stormed through the graveyard, kicking down headstones left and right and snorting with satisfaction when they hit the ground and crumbled.

 

Needless to say, he was pissed off.

 

It was three days later, and he was still stewing over it. He hadn’t killed that girl! Instead, he’d actually let the little bitch go and gone back to the fucking butcher’s!

 

<It’s all her fault.>

 

It was her face he’d seen when he’d attempted to eat the girl. She had stopped him. He’d nearly freaked out – thank God he’d kept his cool. But when his mind’s eye had seen Buffy’s face in the girl’s, he’d honestly thought that he’d made a mistake and attacked the wrong person. The person he had the warm, fuzzy feelings for (he still couldn’t bring himself to say the ‘L’ word – yet) instead of some stupid unsuspecting brat.

 

That did it. Buffy was dead meat.

 

He sprang over a headstone, and darted through a few more, never stopping, always running in the direction of her home.

 

"I’ll show her," he muttered, arm shooting out and stabbing a minion without even looking. "I’ll show that little bitch. I’ll make her pay for tryin’ to give me a fuckin’ soul. I’ll make her pay for gettin’ me to pay attention to her an’ that stupid brat sis of hers, an’ that stupid hair an’ stupid perfume. An’ those big, puppy dog eyes of hers. An’ the way they crinkle when she laughs. An’ that silly, soddin’ bump on her nose. An’ that... GAH! I’m gonna kill her! She’s turned me into a fuckin’ poofter!"

 

He nearly ran into a tree from his passion on the topic.

 

That’s when he realized that he was right outside her house. Grumbling, he hoisted himself into the tree and climbed to her window. Looking about as he sat on her sill, he sighed, then climbed inside.

 

 

 

Buffy was content. There wasn’t much else to be said but that. Riley hadn’t bugged her since that night at the cemetery, and while she felt thoroughly disappointed that he wasn’t going to humiliate himself in front of her by getting down on his knees and apologizing, she was glad that she didn’t have to put up with his stupid bullshit anymore. And Xander had called her and told her that Giles had told him off. She was actually pleased to be away from him. True, they hadn’t actually broken up; they were just apart. Far apart. But that nasty tension that was always there when they were near each other anymore was completely dissolved.

 

The only thing she wasn’t sure about was Spike. She hadn’t seen him for three nights, either.

 

It worried her a little. Spike was as free as a freaking bird now. Nothing could stop him from killing, and she was wigged that he might be hiding out, making plans for her demise. Despite all the touchy-feely-ness that he’d suddenly seemed to develop when he was near her, she was still... yes... scared... that Spike’s full reemergence as the Big Bad of Sunnydale would result in her death.

 

Otherwise, she was just peachy.

 

"No, really?"

 

"Yuh-huh. Tara, Anya, Xander, and I were listening from the door. Giles was mad... He was going all Ripper and everything. It was pretty darn freaky, but at the same time, it was soooo cool!"

 

Buffy laughed. "It serves him right for calling me a whore! I told you he was getting all passive-aggressive on me!" Willow giggled on her end of the line.

 

"Well, it was fun to watch. Riley didn’t even say anything when Giles told him to get out. He just stood there, kinda all ‘dur, what do I do now?’ until Giles left, and then he walked out the door. I think Giles freaked him out a little too well. The funny thing is, I think Giles is proud of himself for it!" Buffy snorted, turning a corner and heading up the steps to her room.

 

"Okay, yeah, that’s funny. Giles all proud of himself because he scared the hell out of my ignorant boyfriend? God, I wish I could’ve seen that! Anyway, I’ve gotta go, Wills. Professor Randall is gonna shit a brick if I fall asleep in class one more time." Willow agreed.

 

"Same here. And we thought Professor Walsh was a stickler, right? I’ll see you tomorrow, Buffy." Buffy yawned as she turned down her hallway, knocking gently on Dawn’s door as an indication to turn off the music and go to sleep. She heard the teenager grumble and moan, but do as was implied. "Goodnight, Buffy!" she called out.

 

"Can do, Wills. Goodnight. Goodnight, Dawnie!"

 

"’Night, Buffy. Tell Dawn I said goodnight!"

 

"Willow says goodnight!" Buffy called through the door. Dawn hollered back a ‘goodnight’ for the witch before her lights went out. Chuckling to herself, she turned off the phone. After a short stop in her mother’s room for a hug and kiss goodnight, Buffy retreated to her bedroom. Where she heard voices.

 

Well, not so much voices as one voice.

 

One specific voice.

 

"What the fuck did you do to me, you stupid bitch?" she heard him growl. Buffy winced. Shit; why was he in her room? Hadn’t she told him to leave her alone? She peeked through the doorway and saw that he was pacing and tossing his hands in the air, dressed in his usual black 1980’s tribute to Billy Idol. A pair of tight – really tight – (damn, he was lucky he had no circulation) black jeans; a black T-shirt that looked as if it had been spray-painted on; his usual black leather duster, swishing about and lapping at his legs with his every move; and a pair of thick, black, clunky army boots that looked right at home on the pale, goth–like vampire. He turned then, and she caught a glimpse of a heavy silver chain around his neck, and a big, silver-buckled belt around his waist.

 

"I mean, it was bad enough when that stupid piece of tin was in my head, shocking me every damn time I tried to do something, but this is just bloody ridiculous! You’ve made me bloody powerless! Again! I swear this is how you get your kicks, innit? As if you didn’t do enough to destroy my life ever since I bloody met you, now this!"

 

Okay. It was a REAL good thing that Mom and Dawn – pardon the expression – slept like the dead. She pushed the door open fully, her eyes darting about, and stared incredulously at what she saw.

 

Spike was yelling at a picture.

 

Her picture, to be precise. He’d propped it up on her dresser, and now looked to have completely lost his mind. It took everything she had not to drop down on the floor and laugh – over and over and over – hysterically.

 

"What the hell are you doing? Have you finally cracked?"

 

Spike spun around, his blue eyes widening into a ‘deer-caught-in-headlights’ stare. The shock lasted barely one second before dissolving into rage.

 

"I may very WELL have, and it’s your fuckin’ fault! You ruined me, you stupid bint!" Buffy rolled her eyes.

 

"Spike, WHAT are you talking about? What the hell did I do?"

 

Spike rushed her, pulling back an arm and hitting her. "You made me fuckin’ impotent! I tried to eat a kid the other night, but when I fuckin’ looked at her, I saw your prancy, martyr-y, holier-than-all-thou-scum-of-the-earth face, and I couldn’t kill her!"

 

Buffy barely heard him. She was too busy returning his punch. "Don’t fucking hit me! You don’t even have the right to be in my room, Spike, get out! I told you to leave me alone!"

 

Spike smirked and backed up, tossing himself on her bed. "Yeh, you did, luv. But you never told me to stop vistin’. So here I am. An’, might I add, I’m damn ready to beat the tar outta you, you little twig."

 

Buffy scowled and threw a stuffed animal at him. The miniature teddy flew through the air and bounced off his forehead, but all he did was laugh. "Get off of my bed!"

 

Spike raised his eyebrows and wriggled his long body against the mattress, making himself more comfortable. "Nope. Don’t think so, kitten. I rather like it where I am." He grinned dementedly. "It really is quite comfy, you know. Why don’t you come and join me? I’m sure we could think of something... productive to do." He winked. Buffy marched over to him, lifted him up by the shirt (not that there was much shirt to grab on to) and threw him bodily across the room. Spike was still shooting her that insane grin.

 

"Oooh, getting the urge to man-handle me, are we, luv?" Well, damn. It figured – Spike liked that! Buffy shot a glimpse at him, sprawled on her floor, cocky, seductive grin in place, and a really big <get your eyes back up here right this instant, Buffy!> She turned away from him, blushing and flustered. William the Bloody absolutely, positively did NOT exist below the waist!

 

"Spike, you need to leave. NOW. Please, just get out. I’m sure you have other things to do, and really, you’re just wasting your time here right now and – and – what the hell are you doing?!" she squeaked. Upon turning around, she saw that Spike had picked up Mr. Gordo. He was now sniffing at the stuffed pig as if it was some interesting sort of fungus, curiosity as well as mild amusement written on his face.

 

"How long have you had this thing, pet? Ever think to wash it up a bit once in a while?" Before she could stutter out an answer, his attention had drifted elsewhere, and he tossed Mr. Gordo over his shoulder. He turned and began rummaging through her dresser drawers.

 

Buffy, wide-eyed and horrified -- hello, perverted, and apparently depraved vampire going through her underwear drawer! – caught the airborne piggy and returned him to his rightful place on her bed before dashing to Spike’s side and pulling at his jacket in an attempt to get him away from her things.

 

"Spike, stop it! Get away from my stuff!" A sharp kick to the shin made him yelp, but he still didn’t budge, and just brushed her away, burrowing deeper.

 

"Leave it be, luv, what’ve you got to hide in here? Lemme – OW! – lemme look!... well, well, lookie here!" Buffy’s eyes bugged out, and she swiped at Spike.

 

"Put that back!" she hissed. Spike grinned wickedly, dangling her dark blue teddy (a present from Riley – one that was probably gonna find a resting place on the scrap heap) above her head. She growled at his immaturity and jumped up to grab it, Spike laughing all the while.

 

"You want it back so badly, put a little effort in it! Hop to it, luv!" he teased.

 

He actually managed to keep her going for about a minute, yanking it out of her reach every time she neared it, until something clicked, and Buffy stopped.

 

"What am I doing?" she asked out loud, then aimed a punch at Spike’s stomach. Spike yelped and head-butted her as he doubled over, sending her sprawling right on her ass. Snickering, he pounced on her, only to immediately find himself being flipped onto his back, Buffy straddling his waist with one leg on either side of him. She yanked her lingerie out of his grasp and shoved it quickly under the bed. When she looked down, Spike was watching her. The look on his face read more of curiosity and contemplation, rather than 24/7 lust-y thoughts. She frowned and thumped him hard on the chest.

 

"What is wrong with you? My mom and Dawn are asleep, and you have to come in here, crashing around like you’re in a goddamn zoo? Do you think they’re deaf? And what’s with you digging around in my stuff? There’s a reason they are called private, Spike!" She sat up, staring down at him. "Why are you here anyway? Why won’t you leave me alone? It’s not rocket-science to figure out that I don’t –"

 

"Buffy." Spike was smiling. Not leering, not smirking, not sneering. Smiling. The sight of one very, very rare genuine Spike smile threw her off track. She replied with a very eloquent, "Wha?"

 

Spike shook his head, gazing at her almost fondly. "Shut up." That snapped her back to the real world, and she scowled.

 

"I most certainly will –"

 

Oooh. Spike lips.

 

Spike pulled Buffy close, letting out a soft purr. His lips softly danced over hers, his arms wrapping around her waist. He’d tried to be mad at her, he really had. But she looked too damn cute when she was embarrassed and blushing.

 

It was a decidedly couple-ish thing that he’d just pulled with her, yanking the negligee about, always out of her grasp, but he was really starting to not give a fuck.

 

She was an amazing fighter. The most powerful Slayer he had ever come across in all his 121 years. An absolutely glorious being. And as long as he didn’t do anything to fuck up the mini sliver of a chance he was uncovering with her, he’d still have the feel of those soft, sweet, strawberry lips against his own.

 

Besides. Those growing warm and fuzzies were starting to make him feel pretty damn good.

 

Grunting softly, he rolled over, pulling her with him. He stumbled as he attempted to stand up and gently tugged her up with him, nearly tripping over their feet as he fumbled his way to the bed. His tongue slid out lightly and pressed against her lips, and she sighed softly as Spike playfully pushed her back on the bed, not straying too far as he fell right on top of her.

 

His kisses grew more firm and demanding, but were soothing and caressing at the same time, as if he knew she would freak out any other way. She gave into the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck and responding sweetly, tugging lightly on one of his flaxen curls. He replied with another low purr and nuzzled against her, moving his lips away from her and down to her neck. Lightly nipping at her skin, he brought his hand up to run over her stomach, making her shirt shimmy its way up. He felt her tense, then relax.

 

Slowly sliding his hand up her shirt, Spike trailed a thumb along the swell of her breast. Buffy whimpered and writhed under him, her hands moving of their own volition, reaching down and tugging at his shirt. He grunted softly and shrugged off his duster, tossing it to the floor, before complying to her wishes and tugging his shirt off. Buffy’s fingers immediately darted to his chest, stroking, rubbing, pinching at his nipples, and making him want her farther beyond all reason. Spike pulled his lips away from hers and ducked down, his cool tongue making contact with the taut muscles of her stomach and moving upwards. Buffy arched upwards, revealing more skin, and a low rumble escaped from his throat.

 

"Lift up your arms," he mumbled hoarsely, and Buffy obeyed, raising them above her head. Spike slowly pushed her shirt up, over her stomach, over her breasts, her head, and finally tossed it to the floor. His gaze was a mix of heated passion and desire. His eyes showed something else... something she couldn’t exactly decipher.

 

Since the shirt she’d been wearing had been nothing more than a little scrap of lace, she’d worn nothing under it, and Spike was treated to quite the view. Hunger welled up, and he dove down on her, latching his lips onto one of her soft little nipples, sucking roughly. His cool fingers found her other breast and cupped it lightly, massaging it as his thumb stroked the nipple. It became a rosy-brownish hue in his grasp and hardened considerably quickly. Buffy moaned and lifted a hand to his hair, stroking the altered blonde locks as she pressed his face down on her breast at the same time. Sparks began flying in front of her eyes, and she could feel herself becoming dizzy from Spike’s ministrations.

 

Spike’s lips parted and he pulled away from the raw, hard red nipple he’d been sucking on. Choosing not to torture her by attacking the other, he tilted his head down and licked her chest, creating a cool, wet path to her throat. The heat from her skin was absorbed into his, and Spike groaned loudly, his arousal becoming evident against Buffy’s right leg. Buffy likewise let out a moan from the touch of his cold skin against her overheated body, and she tugged him closer. Her movements left absolutely no space free between them.

 

But it still wasn’t close enough.

 

The tip of his tongue made a circle around his mark before brushing roughly over the twin punctures. Buffy cried out softly, a burst of several feelings colliding with each other inside of her, and if she hadn’t been aroused before then, she most definitely was now, several times over. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she realized that this reaction was a little odd, since all he’d done was lick the scars he’d left on her.

 

But right now, it all felt too damn good. So she gave it the brush off.

 

Spike’s hands moved down and he began fiddling with the buttons on her pants. His desire for her was getting the best of him, and it might’ve proved to be bad if a certain annoying pang didn’t keep distracting him. He snarled softly and shoved it away, trying to concentrate fully on Buffy. His hands moved slowly and surely, gently, teasingly over her body, igniting those same little paths of icefire that she’d felt the first time that he’d put his hands on her body. Oh, god, he wanted to feel her, taste her, be inside of her, feel her sweet, rich blood running down his throat, and for the love of God he HAD to get her to reciprocate his claim!

 

Buffy heard his snarl and was jolted back. She pulled away from him and looked up at him in bafflement. She’d never seen Spike be so beast-like, yet so gentle at the same time. Well, not with anyone except Drusilla. It was unnerving, but it felt... good. Really... really... good.

 

<Nice, gentle Spike. Not mean, hurtful Spike. I can live with that.>

 

This was Spike. Bad, mean, rude, annoying Spike. The one that had rampaged all over Sunnydale last year to get the Gem of Amarra. The one that had told her that Parker and Angel had thought her not worth a second go. And now, he made her feel things that were infinitely stellar compared to Riley.

 

How did that work?

 

"Spike," she whispered. He was so close. So, so close. One more kiss would do her in. She knew it would. She couldn’t control herself. God, one more kiss, and she would give into him. She would let him take over, take control, and let him in. He was right there, and she was finally willing...

 

It couldn’t hurt. Right?

 

Spike frowned down at her, feeling something twitch inside of him from the way she was staring. The human side of him that had been hidden when his demon had inhabited his body... William... was pushing his way through, making himself be known. His conscience was coming back, and Spike was especially aware.

 

++ This is wrong. You can’t do this to her. You’ll hurt her more than anyone could if you keep showing her your bestial hormones and allow this to continue, dragging her along. You’ve got to stop now, before you ruin it all.

 

-- Before I ruin what?

 

++ Everything. Whatever it is that’s growing between you two. You’ve got to stop pushing and teasing her. If there’s something there, and you keep on with your nit-like tendencies, you’ll destroy it. Bugger off for a while. Leave her be.

 

He must’ve been slightly off his nut. The ponce was making sense.

 

Spike made a decision.

 

He slid off of the Slayer. Sliding on his duster, he grabbed his shirt and walked toward the window bare-chested. Buffy sat up in alarm.

 

"Spike? Where’re you going?" Spike paused at the sill, his head down. Moonlight streamed in through the darkness, illuminating him, and Jesus Christ, if she didn’t know any better, she would swear that he was an angel.

 

Pfft. That’d be the day.

 

He looked up, his head cocked at an angle, and gazed at her. Flushed cheeks, tousled honey colored curls, topless, small perfect breasts heaving, green eyes lit with desire, blood pumping with exhilaration, heart pounding with intense need. She was an Aphrodite.

 

Dammit all to hell.

 

"Home, luv." His tone of voice let her know that he wouldn’t answer any questions. He would just go, then reemerge when needed, as usual.

 

But she couldn’t just let him go. Not now. She stood up and grabbed a shirt, covering herself up with it. Walking over to him, she tilted her head, then reached up and tentatively touched his face. Then carefully, she leaned up and kissed his cheek.

 

"Will you be all right?" Spike tossed her his usual cocky, casual smile. Albeit only on the cheek, he was slightly stunned that she’d kissed him – of her own volition. Not to mention he was really, really pleased.

 

"Just fine, Slayer." He wiggled his eyebrows. "See you in a coupla nights." He started to leave, then, unable to resist, looked at her again, mischievousness glittering in his eyes. "Make sure I’m there when you finally grab the big nit by the short an’ curlies an’ toss him out, won’t you, ducks?" Buffy put a hand on his shoulder.

 

"You’ll have a front row seat," she promised, offering him a small, cheeky smile. Spike drew a sharp breath, trying not to let on to his astonishment. She’d freely offered him a smile.

 

Maybe that poofy git William was right. Maybe they were on their way to something. Something good. He grinned back at her.

 

"Right, then. Ta, Slayer. An’ make sure you keep that little bit of yours away from me. She’s gettin’ too nosy," he replied, chuckling. Without waiting for a response, he climbed out of the window and slid into the tree, then jumped gracefully to the ground.

 

Buffy peered out of her window, watching him leave. A small frown touched her lips. Her good mood slowly drifted away, and now she was just confused and weary. She put her hand over her mouth when she realized what she had just done, and with whom she’d done it with. Turning away from the window, she sat on her bed, the waves of humiliation welling up inside of her. Tears formed in her eyes.

 

What was going on? Why was he doing this to her? Hadn’t it been enough when he’d simply broken her with his words, but now he had to go and physically torture her, too? She leaned into her pillow.

 

"Oh, god," she whispered. Her willpower snapped, and she began to sob.

 

 

 

As soon as Spike was sure he was out of sight, he looked back toward the big house on Revello Drive and shut his eyes tightly, a huge frown drawing down his once smiling face. He leaned against a tree and slid down to the ground, covering his face with his hands. The moonlight glinted off of the bared expanse of the alabaster smooth skin that was visible beneath his duster.

 

Fuck. It was happening. It was really happening. He’d let himself do it. He couldn’t believe he’d let himself sink so deeply. It was one thing to lust after the Slayer. It was an entirely different thing to fall in love with her.

 

His dream had told him the truth. He’d fallen in love with Buffy.

 

If the demon world found out about this, he’d be nothing but sod on the pavement.

 

He prepared to shove his shirt into his duster pocket, when the wind blew, and a heady scent set off the neon light in Spike’s mind that was marked BUFFY. He looked down, scrutinizing the ‘scrap of lace’ he’d pulled off of her. A plain white halter-top. He’d been so distracted that he’d grabbed her shirt by mistake and left his own on the floor of her room. He nodded slowly, then sighed. Then let out a frustrated growl.

 

He got up and stormed down the road, both disgusted and confused by his strange reactions to a love that broke all the rules three times over. He growled in fury, perplexion covering his eyes.

 

"I need to kill something," he muttered, ducking into the nearest cemetery.

 

Stupid fucking entities. Why couldn’t the miserable buggers just leave him be?

 

 

 

(AN: small note – keep in mind that time moves very fast in the fic world, especially in mine. I hope that would rather clearly explain this -->)

 

Eight days. Eight fucking days, and not one single glimpse of her. She hadn’t let him come near her in eight fucking days.

 

He was dying.

 

Nobody was even helping him out! The girl had said it herself – "don’t come near me again unless it’s to apologize."

 

Well, he was more than damn ready to apologize. If she would just let him near her to do so!

 

"Fine," he muttered. When he hadn’t been out trying to get close to her, he’d been holed up in his apartment. No one had been able to contact him – he refused to talk to even Graham. He pulled his boots one, grabbed his gun belt, slid it on and pulled his vest over it. "If she won’t let me see her, I’ll just have to –" he cocked his gun and set the safety, "—force my way in."

 

Sliding the gun into its holster, he grabbed his keys and walked out.

 

It didn’t take long to get to her house – he could’ve taken his Jeep but, well, he hadn’t. He’d been on foot, and most of the way to Buffy’s, he’d been running.

 

He arrived just in time to see her taking off for the cemetery with a purpose. Thinking it better if he didn’t call out a really temperamental Slayer’s name, he followed quickly and quietly. Now was not the time to be knocked on his ass by a very pissed girlfriend.

 

Although by the end of this night, he most likely would be.

 

---

Out of My Head

Part 5

 

She just really needed someone to talk to. Really, it had nothing to do with the way he’d been with her last week. Nothing to do with how sweet and gentle and kind he’d been. Nothing at all with how he could’ve taken full advantage of her, fucked her to death, drained all her blood and left her for dead, but chose not to at the last minute and instead climbed out her window.

 

Nope, nothing at all. Totally innocent.

 

 

Ugh, dammit, it was getting extremely hard to toss Spike in the same group as evil! Especially when he seemed to be playing the part of a bad puppy with a good streak.

 

 

Hehe. He would kill her in an instant if he ever heard her say that out loud, and she damn well knew it.

 

 

The thought still made her grin involuntarily. <Hah. Spike being good.> Now THAT was a major funny.

 

 

Well, anyway, she had to get some things off her chest. She was to be due at the Magic Box’s brand new training room – courtesy of Giles and Xander (and it was really a miracle that the Magic Box Owner’s Curse hadn’t yet fallen on him) -- in an hour for a round of sparring with Giles. But it wouldn’t hurt to stop by to just... check on Spike. She hadn’t seen him since their mini rendezvous the week before and it was starting to grate on her nerves.

 

 

O-kay, so it was more like shredding her nerves.

 

 

She just could not understand what the hell was going on lately. The world was starting to crash down around her. Not for the first time, but it had already passed the way-too-many-times-to-count mark. Riley was nothing more than a completely annoying hassle anymore. Mom had just recently had some sort of sick spell. It had come out of nowhere, and she just couldn’t understand it. Something was wrong with her... and it scared her. Really, really scared her.

 

 

And on top of it, Dawn wasn’t real.

 

 

She had performed a spell – a very useful Willow suggestion – and everything had been in a daze. Everything had been real, had felt normal. But pictures of her family had confused her, Dawn’s bright, happy image flashing in and out eerily. She’d passed by Dawn’s room – a room that also flashed in and out of focus. The room wasn’t really Dawn’s. It was filled with cardboard boxes, belonging to her mother.

 

 

And then there was Dawn herself.

 

 

Dawn was flashy, too.

 

 

Who in the hell was the jackass that was screwing around with her now?

 

 

Dawnie wasn’t real. Nothing that was remotely associated with Dawn was real. So if Dawn wasn’t real, then why in the hell was she here?

 

 

Whoever it was that was screwing around with her – and the whole damn town, apparently -- had done a damn good job. Nobody else realized that her "sister" was just a little bit different than was passing for regular in Sunnydale.

 

 

Even Spike couldn’t tell the difference. Which was odd, since he was a supernatural presence, and should’ve been able to detect other supernatural presences. For Christ’s sake, she herself was the Slayer, and Spike could scent her from the other freaking side of California.

 

 

Why was that?

 

 

She could wait until she got to the shop. She could. But she didn’t want to risk letting the others know. Xander tended to have a big mouth, and would blurt it within a 10—20 minute time span. Willow... Well, Willow was good with the secret keeping. Sometimes. She winced as she remembered several times before when Willow’s extra-hyper ‘I-know-nothing-see-nothing-hear-nothing’ attitude with secrets tended to become part of the ‘I-know-and-I-wanna-tell-but-I-can’t-tell-and-oh-god-I-can’t-keep-it-to-myself-anymore!’ variety.

 

 

Anya could not be trusted to keep her mouth shut and that was final. Judging by the way she opened her mouth up about her, um, sexual exploitations with Xander, it would be so not of the good if she told her. And she didn’t have anything against Tara, really. She just didn’t know her all that well, and wasn’t exactly sure where the tall blonde witch stood.

 

 

Riley was absolutely out of the question.

 

 

So that left Giles. And Spike, for some odd reason. She didn’t know what it was, but something made her feel like she could trust him. She stopped for a second, inquiring the annoyance that was Buffy’s Life. She stomped her foot.

 

 

"Dammit! It was so much easier when he hated me!"

 

 

It was too hard. She was just gonna have to tell him to leave her alone again. The feelings he’d invoked in her the other night were still shrouding her, and making her dizzy. If Spike would just leave her alone, then she wouldn’t feel so damn confused, and needy, and fluffy, and stupid, and so damn girly, and Jesus H. Christ what the hell was wrong with her?

 

 

ARGH!

 

 

"Okay. This is silly. I am not nervous about seeing Spike! I’ll just... go to his crypt and talk to him about Dawn. I’ll tell him to leave me alone. And then I’ll go. Far away. Very... very fast."

 

 

She turned in the direction of the crypt and took a deep breath.

 

 

"I can do this. I can go. Now. Now. Go NOW."

 

 

Her legs refused to budge. She gritted her teeth. <Must move legs. Must move NOW. Move, legs, move!>

 

 

"I’LL. GO. NOW."

 

 

She forced one leg forward, then the other. And finally she started to move.

 

 

And once she started to move, she found that she couldn’t stop. Her legs acquired a mind of their own, leading her nonstop to Spike’s home. She grumbled. It figured. Looking up at the sky, she threw her hands up.

 

 

"Why me?"

 

 

 

 

Spike’s eyes glittered excitedly as a young minion rushed toward him, trying to look (snort) dangerous. The elder vampire grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, raising his knee and slamming the fledgling’s face into it brutally, breaking the twit’s nose and shattering his teeth. Spike chuckled to himself, his entire being practically glowing with malice. <Hmph. Too bad vamps can’t get dental plans. It’ll take this one at least a week to heal.>

 

 

The minion groaned and threw a weak punch, and Spike jumped back, one leg whizzing through the air and knocking the fledgy in the head. The force of impact sent him flying right into a gravestone, cracking his head open, and Spike pounced, stabbing the twerp with gusto.

 

 

<Or not.>

 

 

He grunted and rubbed his nose, wiping himself off from extremely unworthy vamp dust. Then hit the ground as another little toad attempted a weak sneak attack on him, jumping off the top of a mausoleum. Christ, another few inches to the right, and the dunce might’ve actually gotten him.

 

 

But he hadn’t.

 

 

Spike stood up, grinning insanely. Thank god. He’d been hoping that the fight wasn’t over.

 

 

He’d needed this. He’d –REALLY- needed this. He had to take his damn aggravations out on something. Too many annoying things had been going on since last week, and it was –really- making him hate the world. FUCK the world... well, no. None of the Happy Meals deserved that. Much. No, better yet, fuck Buffy. Bad and very thought-provoking terminology (and very, very enticing), but it got the point through.

 

 

She was driving him crazy, and he hadn’t even seen her for five days! Well, he supposed it was better him seeing her than that prick of a boyfriend of hers – Buffy had kept Riley away at the distance of a 100-foot pole for the past week or so, while Spike had felt like a damn ping-pong ball, bouncing between his crypt and the house on Revello. And when he wasn’t watching her sleep through her window, he was daydreaming about her in the crypt. She was always on his damn mind.

 

 

This could NOT continue.

 

 

Oh, and to skip along happily hand in hand with that, White Bread had been snooping around in his crypt. <Probably lookin’ for some sorta sign that I’ve been shaggin’ Buffy,> Spike thought now, his grin widening and giving him a truly psychotic quality that Dru had never had.

 

 

He’d instantly recognized that repulsive woodsy, outdoors-y scent when he’d entered the crypt yesterday (he’d been out and about Sunnydale, fighting the "good" fight and nicking a few packs of ciggies – you know, the usual). And he’d literally had to dig his fingers into the walls to keep himself calm.

 

 

Jesus, he was gonna hafta smoke up a helluva storm to get rid of that nasty-ass smell.

 

 

BUT... he decided not to go kill Dipshit. Mainly because he still had bouncy, happy, giddy thoughts dancing around in his brain of Riley busting into the crypt and finding Buffy in Spike’s arms. And, even better, he was praying that it would eventually culminate into one bitchin’ fight. That’d teach the little schoolboy to mess with Big Bad.

 

 

And it was really – really – fun to torture him.

 

 

Now would be a real good time to practice.

 

 

The nit’s face transformed into Riley’s and Spike abruptly snapped. He dove onto the vampire and proceeded to beat the un-living shit out of him.

 

 

Fledgy never knew what hit him.

 

 

 

 

Buffy had heard the sounds of a fight from a long way’s back and, really, it only figured that it was occurring in Spike’s area of the burial grounds. She raced over and stopped short, staring at the spectacle presented before her.

 

 

<Damn. He’s whaling on that vamp.>

 

 

...Yeah. He really was.

 

 

Spike was visiting nearly every single physical torture that he’d been taught as a fledgling by Drusilla and Angelus. All except the very one that had given him his name. The vampire he was utterly destroying couldn’t have been more than a week old, and was enduring a huge amount of torture.

 

 

He was NOT faring very well.

 

 

From what Buffy could see, the newbie’s nose was broken, and there was a sharp, jagged slice right down the center of his forehead about an inch and a half long. Several teeth had been broken, and the thing’s borrowed blood was gushing out of every single injury. It was limply cradling its hand, and it looked like Spike had actually broken – no, shattered it.

 

 

She winced as Spike began to ram the vampire’s head into a large, wide gravestone. Repeatedly. By the time he let up, there was nothing vaguely recognizable about it. Baby Vamp’s face was nothing more than a mushy mess of bone, blood, and flesh, and he was nearing unconsciousness.

 

 

It nauseated her.

 

 

Not to say that Buffy didn’t enjoy the hunt. She loved it, and she loved the fighting, but that was as far as it went. She wasn’t absolutely brutal about it. On the first open shot she got, Buffy would dust the sucker. She fought when she had to, and she dusted as was necessary. She did her duty.

 

 

But Spike had tortured this little piss, and he’d enjoyed every bloody minute of it.

 

 

Spike jerked the minion upwards and prepped himself to torture the little prick more, an insane grin plastered on to his lips, blood splattered on his face. Okay. This was bad.

 

 

Even Buffy had her limits when it came to stinky, smelly, stupid little vamps.

 

 

She waited until Spike stepped back to kick him before she grasped a stake she’d brought with her, and chucked it with perfect precision into the younger vampire.

 

 

Poof. Bye-bye.

 

 

Spike did a double take, then looked in Buffy’s direction, before grunting and rolling his eyes.

 

 

"Well ruin my fun. You can come out now, Summers." Buffy carefully crept out from behind the bushes, feeling extremely weary around the Master vampire.

 

 

<What the hell was I thinking?> she thought. Not even a minute ago, she’d been worried that as soon as she saw him, she’d jump on him and kiss him to his second death! But now, after what she’d just seen him do, she’d come to her senses. This guy was a vampire, a killer. He enjoyed it. And she’d been ready to rape him? <Ewwww...> She folded her arms, a look of disgust on her face.

 

 

"What the hell –was- that? Why didn’t you just dust the shithead? Why’d you hafta abuse him?" Spike rolled his eyes and glared at her before turning away, lighting up a Doral (one of his many nicked ciggy packs). <Yeah, NOW the bitch gets self-righteous.> When he turned back, Buffy was right next to him, reaching up and grabbing the cigarette right out of his mouth. Spike sputtered in surprise, trying to snatch it back.

 

 

"Hey! Give it! Buffy, give it! Damn you, bitch, give it BACK!"

 

 

It fell to the ground, meeting an extinguished end underneath Buffy’s very thick black heel.

 

 

Spike exploded and dove on her angrily, pummeling her in the stomach. Buffy let out a surprised yelp and wriggled around, trying to get away.

 

 

"You stupid bitch, why the fuck did you do that?!" he howled.

 

 

Wait, what the fuck? Why was he so mad? It was just –one- fucking cigarette, and he had plenty more packs at home!

 

 

As soon as this clicked, he stopped, which gave Buffy a clear shot. She bucked him up and kicked him three feet away before hopping to her feet. Walking toward him, she kicked him in the side, making him groan and roll onto his back. She watched him solemnly as she pinned his arms down, straddling his waist and sitting on him. Spike whined, growled, hissed and struggled under her, trying to wrench his arms out of her grasp. Dammit, he kept forgetting – he was the Slayer of two Slayers. He’d bested two of them, but it sure as hell didn’t mean that he was stronger than them.

 

 

"Lemme go, dammit! Leggo! What the bloody hell is wrong with you?!" he griped, finally flopping back and glaring at her, his lower lip jutting out in a sullen pout. Buffy drew out another stake, one that she’d hidden under her jacket, and brought it slowly to his chest, pressing the (really, really, really sharp) point gently against his heart. Spike gulped hard, a real fear flickering in his eyes as the point of the stake lightly poked through his black T-shirt and pricked his skin.

 

 

"Now listen to me," she started quietly. "Listen to me good. I have to talk to you. I need to tell you something about Dawn. Don’t ask me why I feel the need to tell you of all people, but I do, so you’re gonna shut your hole and listen." Spike frowned, his head tilting to the side. Then he realized that this was just Buffy’s way of calming him down. She wasn’t gonna stake him.

 

 

<Well thank god.> He’d thought that the claim had malfunctioned!

 

 

She took the stake away gingerly, but didn’t move otherwise – because truth be told, she really liked this position! Spike sat up carefully, leaning back on his elbows. He stared up at her curiously.

 

 

He didn’t mind this position either. He sensed her need to be serious, though, and figured he could somehow manage to keep his beast-y hormones in check. There would be no flipping of Buffy and no fucking her into oblivion.

 

 

Yet.

 

 

Buffy sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Something weird is going on. I don’t know what it is, or why it’s happening – well, no, I know why it’s happening. I’m the Slayer, weird shit is my life." She closed her eyes, then reopened them and looked earnestly at Spike. "But another thing I know is that Dawn’s not real." Spike’s eyebrows shot upwards and he reacted with confusion.

 

 

"Bitty isn’t real? Whats’at mean?"

 

 

"It means I did a spell. A spell to reveal if something magical was attacking Mom. And instead, I discovered that my sister is –made- of magic." Spike was... well... more than slightly shocked.

 

 

"Jesus... Does any of the Scoobies know?" She shook her head.

 

 

"Just you and Giles." Spike scowled.

 

 

"Take that back! I am NOT a bloody Scooby!" His indignant reaction made her laugh.

 

 

"Fine, then. Just Giles. I don’t know, I don’t trust the others to keep it quiet. Xander and Anya’s mouths are both as big as the Grand Canyon, and god, I swear those two are made for each other." Spike chuckled and relaxed, laying back and folding his arms behind his head.

 

 

"Well, you’d certainly know, wouldn’t you? You are around those two twits everyday. What about Red, an’, uh... Tara, is it?" Buffy shrugged.

 

 

"Again, Willow isn’t exactly secret-keeping competent. And I have nothing against Tara. I just don’t know her that well."

 

 

Spike smirked.

 

 

"An’ Cabbage for Brains?" Buffy giggled, instantly knowing he was speaking of Riley.

 

 

"I haven’t even seen him since the last time he tried to talk to me. And somehow, I have the feeling that he was only nice to Dawn because she’s my sister." Spike was quiet for a moment, smiling up at her. His brain had gone on leave, and he’d barely heard what she’d just said; this position was getting to him...

 

 

"Y’know... you look awful lovely up there, pet," he purred. When he’d sat up, Buffy had slid down onto his hips, and Spike’s entire, ahem, anatomy was sick of keeping its immediate reaction under wraps. So to speak.

 

 

Buffy froze completely as she finally noticed the rising hardness against the inside of her thigh, before bolting away from him and standing up.

 

 

<I will –not- be turned on, I will –not- be turned on... There will be –no- turning on of me by the evil blood-sucking demon!>

 

 

"No, Spike, don’t even start! That’s the other reason I came to see you. I want you to stay away from me. Don’t touch me, don’t tease me, don’t mess with my head, just back off and let me be. LEAVE. ME. ALONE."

 

 

She ignored the constriction inside her chest and the warning twinge that ran down her spine at her words. Spike slowly stood up and smirked.

 

 

"Riiight. Like you really want that." Buffy frowned.

 

 

"I do!" she whined. Spike rolled his eyes and made as if to stomp away. When Buffy reacted, taking a step forward to follow, Spike spun and grabbed her arm, flinging her against the wall of his crypt. Following quickly, he pressed himself up against her, his hardened cock pressing right into her stomach. Buffy drew a sharp breath, her head dropping back against the wall. She bit her lower lip and refused to close her eyes, watching him wearily. He ran a hand from her hip up slowly to a soft, small breast, squeezing gently, then a little harder when Buffy whimpered. Leaning against her, his lips pressed to her ear, he murmured, "You sure about that, pet?"

 

 

Pulling away, he gave her a knowing look before rounding the corner and walking into his home.

 

 

Buffy watched him move away from her, and growled in anger, stomping her foot. Dammit! Why did she keep letting him do that?!

 

 

She flung herself after him, kicking down his door.

 

 

 

 

Something about that entire encounter made him tense. Buffy had looked upset, then happy, then upset, and now she was angry. <Holy shit,> he thought, as he saw his girlfriend literally kick open the door to Spike’s crypt. He felt giddy. She was finally going to kill him!

 

 

As he expected, the sounds of a very loud fight began to echo back and forth across the cemetery, Buffy shouting obscenities, (Buffy shouting obscenities?) and Spike shouting them right back (Spike shouting... oh, wait, that was nothing new.)

 

 

He’d nearly been ready to run over to Spike and bury a stake in the vampire’s back when he’d seen him press against Buffy, fondling her. The odd thing about it was that Buffy hadn’t done anything to stop him (well, she hadn’t right then. She was more than making up for it now). When he’d been following her, he’d gotten the hint that Buffy was coming to see Spike, and he’d seen that odd little exchange when Buffy had taken Spike’s cigarette. When Buffy had straddled the vamp and held the stake to his chest, Riley had been praying with all his heart that she would finally kill the stupid piece of scum, but then she’d taken it away and had just sat there. On top of him.

 

 

Riley shuddered at the image.

 

 

He’d realized that they were talking by the hand motions and the jerking-of-heads they kept making, but he couldn’t hear one word of the conversation. Apparently, though, Spike had said something that Buffy didn’t like because she jumped up and away from him. And after another short exchange, Spike had thrown her against his crypt, acting very depraved.

 

 

He snapped out of his little reverie when he heard Spike let out a startled yell. Dammit! He was missing all the fun!

 

 

 

 

 

This wasn’t usually the way he got his rocks off, but he was gonna take what he could get. Buffy was on top of him, hitting him in the face, chest, and anywhere else she found would cause him pain, except...

 

 

He’d noticed she’d steered plenty clear of one – big – happy spot.

 

 

He cupped her ass and flipped her over, shoving her against the dusty floor, aiming a punch at the side of her head. Buffy jerked at the blow and sat up between his legs, pushing him onto his back. Looking down at him, she smiled.

 

 

Oooh. A new fighting position, maybe?

 

 

She crawled up his body like a cat and sat bluntly on his chest, rising up with each useless breath he took. She was trying really hard to keep herself under control, but Jesus God, she was horny as hell now. What she wanted was to just rub herself all over him, make him moan and squirm a little (more) and forget about everything that had been plaguing her.

 

 

But she couldn’t do that. It was bad.

 

 

Spike noticed her distraction and took the open opportunity to roll her over onto her back. Sliding up, he pressed himself against her and his hips gave their own involuntary thrust. He could smell her desire – even if she didn’t realize it – and it was driving him crazy.

 

 

Before he could dive down on her, Buffy kicked him off again and jumped up, grinning wickedly. Spike’s breath caught and he licked his lips. Christ, did she have any idea of just how sexy she was with that look on her face?

 

 

Buffy administered a full spin, kicking him right in the center of his chest, then leapt on him, hooking her legs around his waist. She gave him a sharp uppercut to the jaw, and Spike growled, acknowledging the slight pain before he jerked her against him and shoved her to a wall, kissing her fiercely. Buffy responded in kind, thrusting her warm wet tongue into his mouth. All too quickly, though, she jerked away, and it was back to business, hitting him and causing him much pain.

 

 

Spike dropped her to the ground and backhanded her roughly, as ecstatic as he could be that he was back to fighting the Slayer again, and not just taking her punishing hits. Dropping to the ground, he stuck a leg out and spun, making an attempt to bring her down, but his leg met with empty air as Buffy had jumped up when she saw his intent. Pouncing on him, she kneed him in the ribs, then – in a rather bold move for her – reached down to grasp him outside his pants, squeezing almost painfully. Spike let out a startled cry and arched up, thrusting once into her hand. Buffy leapt on him, shoving her lips to his in a brutal kiss, biting his lower lip and making him cry out for joy.

 

 

Little minx.

 

 

He growled and rolled them over, grasping at her shirt and trying to tear it off. He needed to see more of her, needed to feel more of her. But Buffy apparently didn’t want that. She jerked away from him and lashed out, smashing her fist into his nose. She obviously wanted to continue the fight.

 

 

Maybe that was just how she got off.

Outside he was getting frustrated. He wanted to shove her down, rip her clothes off and fuck her to death. But inside, he was bouncing around, ecstatic. Human. Animal. Equal. In every way. Just like him. God, he wanted her.

 

 

Grabbing her by the front of her lacy peasant-style shirt, he lifted her up, then tossed her like a ragdoll across the crypt. Buffy cried out from the impact of her back against the wall, but recovered quickly, and came back just as hard. Her hits were merciless, unrelenting, vicious, bloodthirsty, always accurate, always landing exactly where she wanted them. Spike was equally brutal, equally vicious. The first time he’d fought with Buffy, the first time he’d seen her moves, he’d been hooked. He couldn’t get enough.

 

 

But now it was something new. He wanted to fight her, always wanted to fight her. Hell, he’d always wanted to fuck her, too. Now... Now, he wanted to love her.

 

 

Wasn’t there some big cosmic rule somewhere up there stating that this was bad?

 

 

Oh, god, who cared?

 

 

He thrust his leg out and kicked her behind the knees, sending her to the ground. Buffy grabbed his own legs and shoved him back, making him fly right into the wall. Getting up, she ran for him, leaping on to him once again, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Spike cried out softly as he felt her thighs squeeze around his middle, so hard that his ribs were nearly cracking.

 

 

Stabilizing herself with one hand on his shoulder, and one leg around his waist, she came at him with a one-two hit that involved a punch to the jaw and a swift kick to the head. Spike, for all the dizziness he was feeling from the punches, still managed to right himself and grabbed her leg in mid-air, sweeping his large hand down from the calf to the thigh. Buffy stared at him, refusing to let any emotion whatsoever appear on her face, nearly biting her tongue in two when Spike’s hand drifted down between her legs.

 

 

His hand gently brushed over the hinge of her inner thigh, stroking slowly before allowing his fingers to settle right at her jean-clad clit. He pressed his thumb against it and Buffy’s hand suddenly shot out, grabbing the back of his head. Her lips came down on his, sucking, licking and kissing fervently. Her tongue slid along his lower lip teasingly before plunging into his mouth, and Spike groaned, hiking her up in his arms. Stumbling across the crypt, he made an attempt to find the big stone slab he napped on and, giving up, finally just drew her to the ground. Almost instantly, Buffy rolled on top of him, her kisses becoming fierce and nearly savage.

 

 

Spike growled, and Buffy’s anxious motions stilled. She pulled away and looked at him. Spike snarled softly. He wanted this girl. He wanted her more than anything, and god dammit, he was gonna have her. He thirsted for her.

 

 

<Now or never, mate,> his demon growled. Spike grabbed the back of the Slayer’s head. Peering into her eyes, he slid into game face and opened his mouth. Buffy stared at him, licking her lips anxiously. She made no attempt to get away. <Is that the claim, or is it her?> he wondered silently. Either way...

 

 

He pulled her down and gently sank his teeth into her neck. Buffy let out a small whimper, clinging to him tightly. Spike rolled them over, landing on top, and slowly began to grind into her, his hands tracing a pattern across her body. Buffy moaned, her hands reaching up to stroke his hair. "Oh, god," she whimpered. Spike hardened even more, and let out a purr, which came out garbled through the blood in his mouth. Swallowing, he pulled away for a moment, licking her wounds, then put his lips against her ear, licking at her ear lobe.

 

 

"Mine," his voice rumbled contentedly, and Buffy felt a spark shoot through her body. All at once, she realized what had happened back at the doctor’s office. She understood it all. And she grinned.

 

 

She grabbed his head and pulled it back down to her bite marks, a silent invitation to drink more.

 

 

Oh, she knew what he was hoping for. She fully realized that he’d claimed her.

 

 

But he’d teased her mercilessly. And she wasn’t exactly content to sit back and let him gloat around to everyone that he owned her. Because he didn’t.

 

 

Her smile grew as Spike hungrily drank from her. She was so gonna make him wait.

 

 

 

 

 

Riley watched in horror at the scene before him. A random thought occurred in his head. <If he’s such a great hunter, then why hasn’t he sensed me, yet?>

 

 

The answer? Because his girlfriend was who Spike was more interested in.

 

 

He thought he’d faint the second he saw Buffy smile at the vampire and bring his face back to her neck.

 

 

And he’d heard the whispered claim.

 

 

Oh, shit, not good, not good, NOT. FUCKING. GOOD.

 

 

He turned on his heel and raced toward the Magic Box. He knew, better than anyone else, how much the Scoobies (except for Buffy’s sister) hated Spike. Maybe once they heard about this, they’d accept him again and finally put the damn vampire out of their misery.

 

 

Contrary to what everyone (apparently) thought, he knew quite a bit about vampires. Through Giles’ study sessions, and Maggie Walsh’s intense analyzations, he’d heard quite a bit about vampire rituals. The vamping processes, the claims, thralls, et cetera. And he was judging that Giles knew a helluva lot more about it than he did.

 

 

He had to get to the shop, fast. Buffy’s life was in danger!

 

 

 

 

Spike purred softly, nuzzling into his former enemy.

 

 

No, he hadn’t fucked her. In that short amount of time? Pfft, yeah right. Spike was *NOT* that... um, fast. (There was nothing of the term 'one minute-man' or 'two pump-chump' where Spike was concerned. Really.) No, at the moment, he was curled against her warm body, his arms around her waist, a hand gently stroking her abdomen, his face butting gently into her neck like a cat begging to be pet. Buffy in turn was nothing short of bewildered but she looked contemplative. What the fuck was he doing? Spike looked up and observed her.

 

 

"You know I wouldn’t hurt you, right?" he asked, his voice a soft deep rumble, echoing in the crypt. Buffy stared at him, thinking, her head tilted to the side.

 

 

"I know," she replied wearily.

 

 

This was too fucking weird. She was curled up on the floor, her former enemy in her arms... the one who’d been looking for her blood since the moment he’d met her. Well, he had her blood now. But she wasn’t dead. And now he was lying here, telling her that he would never hurt her. Buffy mentally groaned.

< Oh, no, my life isn't strange. What makes you say that? >

 

 

She’d pleaded with him to stop drinking the second she’d felt herself becoming weak. He’d complied, albeit a little reluctantly. What exactly was it about her blood that made everyone wanna drink her? Anyway, that was what had surprised her. Spike had stopped, and she hadn’t had to bash him over the head with a really big heavy object to get him off of her. He’d had complete control of himself. Not like Angel.

 

 

She looked over at him. She had to make sure.

 

"Have you killed anyone?"

 

 

Spike lifted his eyebrows. He was genuinely surprised. Hadn’t he told her that night back in her room that she’d made him... ahem, impotent, once again? He hadn’t made an attempt to kill after that. He’d still been attacking demons and vampires and such. <Once a traitor, always a traitor,> he thought with a sigh.

 

 

"No, pet. I told you I couldn’t. I haven’t even tried since that little rank bitch popped up, looking like you an’ all." He tilted his head and looked at her. "It is all your fault, y’know. I’m the saddest excuse for a vampire ever there was." Buffy snorted.

 

 

"Yeah, I’m so sure it’s my fault that you can’t kill." She paused. "Oh... so... you want to kill?" He sighed.

 

 

"I’m a vampire. ’S in my nature. Y’know, havin’ to satisfy the demon, all that rot." Buffy looked queasy. "Oh come on, then! You’re not gonna let that spoil it all, are you? At least I don’t wanna kill you!" Buffy scowled and jerked away from him.

 

 

"Oh, yeah, so that makes it all okay? You don’t want to kill me, but you still want to kill other humans? Yeah, Spike, that’ll let you loose. Go on, wreak havoc, kill people, just as long as you let the Slayer live. She has to allow that!" Spike stood up quickly, scowling.

 

 

"Oh, sod off, Slayer. You act as if this is new, like you never realized this before! If you paid some attention, you’d realize that me, evil vampire," he pointed at himself, "does not wanna kill you, goody-goody vampire Slayer," he pointed at her, "an’ that in itself is a huge bloody step up from where we were last year!" Buffy folded her arms, silently fuming at him.

 

 

"Am I supposed to be impressed, then? Ooh, Spike doesn’t wanna kill me. I think I’ll give him a cookie!" She shook her head, starting to pace. "You know, you are one amazing vampire. You have such gall sometimes, and I can’t believe that I’m still putting up with you, when I really should have killed you the second you came back. Again." Spike growled.

 

 

"Well, it was soddin’ Harmony! What with her destroying my brain cells with her talkin’... All her ‘Spikey, I need to eat, take me out to eat, treat my like a soddin’ material-y mother fuckin’ princess,’ YOU never would’ve even fuckin’ known I was back, an’ I coulda killed you an’ be done with it!" She managed the most disgusted Look to cover up the sting she’d felt.

"I almost fell for that ridiculous act! I can’t believe I was so stupid! You are so easily fucking readable, and I’m amazed that I actually let you get away with what you’ve been doing to me lately! I know you claimed me, but don’t fucking think it means anything. I’m NOT yours. I never was. I never will be. This... thing you put on me, it’s gonna wear off, and the second it does, you can kiss your stupid ass good-bye!" Spike stomped over to her and grasped the back of her head, twining his fingers through her soft blonde locks and shoving her head back.

 

 

"I wouldn’t be talking to me like that if I were you, pet. After all, like you said, I’ve claimed you. An’ whether you think so or not, you are mine. I could play with you like a cat with a mouse for hours, or I could just kill you straight off. Your life is pretty much in my hands, an’ bein’ your endearin’, Almighty-Bitch self ain’t gonna help your odds any."

 

 

Maybe it was the cold deadly glare in his stony blue eyes that made her want to back down. But to be truthful, Buffy was about as bull-headed as Spike himself was, so having a glaring match with Spike for dominance wasn’t going to help things much. She leaned forward, making as if to kiss him, and when his face got close enough, she head-butted him, sending his head jerking back as a roar ripped out of his throat. Letting go of her, he jerked his arm back and hauled off, sending a sharp, punishing blow across her face. Leaping up, he kicked her in the head with one heavy, boot-clad foot, knocking her to the ground.

 

 

Buffy let out a sharp cry when she hit the floor, but had enough sense in her still to roll out of the way when Spike reached for her again. No, wait... no... Damn that stupid vampiric speed. Spike caught her, picked her up around the waist and threw her against the wall. Buffy stumbled and let out a soft, low moan of pain. A patch of skin at her forehead had broken open, and now she was bleeding. The dark crimson trickled down her forehead and started to blur her vision as it seeped over her eyelids. She wiped it away impatiently and looked up, just in time to catch the frantic stare on Spike's face. She tilted her head a little in confusion.

 

 

Just a second ago he’d been ready to kill her. And now he was wigged that he’d made her bleed, by throwing her into a wall.

 

 

< Jeeeeeesus. Hot and cold much, Spike? >

 

 

Well, anyway, the look was gone now, and Buffy was struggling to get up. She looked down at her blood-smeared hand, then up at the one who’d caused it.

 

 

And now she was pissed.

 

 

Spike let out a strangled grunt as Buffy threw herself at him, beating him anywhere and everywhere, leaving no part of his body unharmed by her hands. Okay, so throwing her into the wall had been a little much, but she’d pissed him off! It had been a natural fighting reaction; that was all. Buffy’s fists were coming in rapid succession now, one after the other, aiming at different sections of his face. He could feel his left eye swelling, and blood was dripping down from the lip that she’d managed to split four times in four different parts.

 

 

Yeah, he could safely say that he’d goofed.

 

 

No, wait. Why the hell was he letting her hit him? He could damn well defend himself at least. Didn’t fucking matter if this prissy little bitch was pissed at what he’d done. She only had one little injury by him, but now he had several by her hands. He was the Big Bad, goddammit, and he was not about to let a prudish stuck-up bitch like Buffy forget that. Throwing her off of him, he grabbed her by her hair and hauled her over to the sarcophagus, a deep, resonating warning growl emanating from his chest and past his lips. He watched as she attempted to stand her own, but he caught the flinch that was nothing but two-twentieths of a second and imperceptible to the human eye.

 

 

Good. She knew who was boss.

 

 

His fingers tangled in her long blonde curls, his hand still clutching the back of her head, he growled down at her, he growled, "I told you to watch what you did around me. You never did take orders well, did you, luv?" Buffy growled and struggled against him, trying to get him to loosen the death grip on her hair – it was starting to hurt! Spike chuckled, entirely amused by her attempt at resistance. Shaking his head, he punched her again before jerking her head up to meet his.

 

 

Perhaps he was a little too pleased by that pained yelp she let out.

 

 

"I told you, pet. Your life is essentially in my hands. An’ if I were you, I’d get my act together, an’ treat me with some respect. But since you don’t seem to wanna do that, methinks ‘m gonna have to punish you."

 

 

Buffy looked up into Spike’s blue eyes, which had changed from a teasing, sparkling cerulean to an angry, deep, churning navy. And maybe, for the first time since she met the peroxide blonde, Buffy was scared of him.

 

 

<Way to go, Buff. Care to piss off any more master vampires while you’re at it? Let’s call Angel up, shall we? Or how about Drac? We’ll have a fucking party!>

 

 

Desperation tended to make her have Stupid Thoughts. Calling up Angel was definitely not the way to go, and summoning Dracula up was most certainly a big no-no.

 

 

Was this another one of her ‘open mouth, insert foot’ moments?

 

 

She snuck another peek at Spike’s extremely brassed-off baby blues.

 

 

Yup, probably.

 

 

< Oops. >

 

 

---

Out of My Head

Part 6

 

They had to listen. They positively had to. If anything else, even though he wasn’t on their good side right now, he KNEW how they all felt about Spike. Unless they were all completely bonkers, they would most definitely take his side against an evil soulless bloodsucking monster (with lots of emphasis on the ‘evil soulless bloodsucking monster’).

 

He lunged for the door of the Magic Box, only to find it locked. Well, duh; store hours were from eight to nine on weekdays, and after hours were Scooby meeting times. Of course the door would be locked. He anxiously pounded on it, and after a brief hesitation, the door opened a crack. When he looked through, he saw a pair of cornflower blue eyes peering out at him.

 

"Hello, Riley," Anya said with a tight, forced smile on her face. "You aren’t welcome here. Please leave now." She began to close the door but Riley stuck a foot in, stopping her.

 

"No! No, Anya, you’ve gotta let me in, I’ve got to tell you guys something!" Without thinking, he shoved Anya to the side as he pushed the door open. In the back he could see Giles, Dawn, and Xander getting up from their seats, and a shock of red and strawberry blonde told him that Willow and Tara were there as well.

 

<Yay. The gang’s all here.>

 

Xander frowned, pushing his way to the front of the store while Anya shot a disdainful grimace at the big lunkhead commando, rubbing her arm.

 

"You don’t have to be rude. And I believe that when someone means to shut a door in your face, it’s implied that you are not *wanted* in that general area. I attempted that, and you shoved me, so I insist that you –"

 

"Buffy’s in danger!" he blurted out. In under a second, everyone in the shop had shot up front, surrounding him. Giles watched the boy, the calmest of all the group, but the alarm was plainly visible on his face.

 

"What do you mean she’s in danger?" he demanded. "What’s happened?" Riley swallowed.

 

"She’s at Spike’s –" and a collective sigh of near-relief went up.

 

"You’re worried about her being with Spike? Geez, frantic much? She can take care of herself, Cardboard Boy," Dawn snarked. It was no secret that Buffy’s glowy, mystical little sister wasn’t fond of the six-foot-tall soldier – in fact, she hated him almost as much as Spike did. The reasoning behind that was always somewhere along the lines of, "He always treats me like I’m five, and he’s so twitchy and nervy around me – almost as bad as Angel was!" Riley shook his head quickly.

 

"No, you don’t understand, listen to me. I was going to her house... to apologize, but she was leaving as I got there, so i followed her -–"

 

"Ew, you followed her? Gotta tell you, Riley-boy, *not* liking the Stalker-Guy thing that you’ve picked up here," Xander chuckled, wrapping an arm tightly around Anya’s shoulders. Riley shot him a frustrated glance.

 

"That’s not the... Can I finish here, please?" At their silence, which was accompanied by expectant (and hostile) stares – Willow really was gonna have to ease up on the protective best friend bit – he continued.

"Anyway, I followed her, and yeah, she went to Spike’s. Well, they had their usual fight and everything, but then they went into his crypt, and when I got to the door, he was on top of her, with his teeth in her neck. She didn’t fight him or anything, and then... Guys, Spike claimed Buffy." Giles’ jaw nearly hit the floor.

 

"Good Lord, he’s what?" Riley looked exasperated.

 

"He’s claimed her!" The four non-Supernatural experts in the room gaped at the Watcher and Riley. Riley stared at them. "Do you have any idea what that means?" When the silence dragged on, Anya piped up.

 

"It means he owns her!" she declared excitedly. Xander, Willow, Tara and Dawn stared at her.

 

"WHAT?" was the only word out of their mouths, and in perfect unison as well. If this hadn’t been such a crucial situation, Riley might’ve laughed. The Scoobies were vaguely familiar with vampire rites and rituals, but obviously not as well as their very own ex-demon was. She was all too happy to explain.

 

"Spike drank some of Buffy’s blood and placed a claim on her, which none of her other vampires have done, specifically, not Angel. Vampires don’t usually bother putting claims on humans since they just hunt and eat them, but since Spike seems to be *extra fond* of Buffy, it looks like he wants to keep her all for himself. All in all, the claim pretty much means that Spike can sense if anyone touches or harms his property, i.e. Buffy. It protects her from other vampires that might want to kill her, and it connects him to her thoughts and emotions. Like, say a vamp attacks her and gets the upper hand, and goes to bite her. Well, he can’t, because Spike put his mark on her, claimed her. And Spike will know instantly, and most likely go after him. So the magicks surrounding Buffy would scare the vamp off. But the whole thing isn’t legit unless Buffy reciprocates it, which I doubt she will, since it’s never happened between a vampire and a human, much less a Slayer before. At least, it hasn’t to my knowledge."

 

Slack-jaws all around. Anya sat back with a smile, seeming proud of herself.

 

"She left out one other little detail – with the claim, Spike can easily control Buffy with as little as a look. If she infuriates him, one growl would subdue her. It’s the same way that a Sire controls his Childe," Giles added, his hand over his eyes. A look of despair was crossing over his worried features. Riley continued.

 

"Which means that Spike could kill Buffy after subduing her, and she wouldn’t be able to fight back." His voice was urgent. He was praying to God that these people were like he thought they were, and hated Spike enough to trust him once again. They needed to save Buffy from that disgusting demon. He looked around.

 

"Are you guys getting this? If we don’t help her, Spike could be slitting her throat right now! He isn’t chipped anymore, and since he blamed Buffy for it, he’ll be gunning for her. The only way to stop him is to dust him, we have to go, NOW!"

 

How quickly he’d forgotten that he’d been part of the organization that had installed Spike’s chip in the first place. If anything, Spike would have been gunning for him.

 

A despondent but nonetheless angry look grew in Willow’s eyes, and he could’ve sworn he’d seen pink sparks of energy at her fingertips. Tara wrapped a comforting hand around Willow’s wrist, and the red-head took a deep breath. Giles echoed the witch, heading towards the door.

 

"I’ll kill him if he’s harmed her," Riley heard the elder man murmur, and grinned widely, following Giles. Finally!

 

"That’s the idea, let’s go!" he urged. Xander immediately jogged after him. Anya followed reluctantly, muttering something about ‘leaving the poor formerly neutered vampire alone’ and how he’d ‘never even think about killing Buffy.’ All pleas fell on deaf ears.

 

Willow slowly took a step forward. This couldn’t be right. She’d watched Riley, and it had seemed like he was way too eager to be rid of Spike. Yeah, maybe he was worried about Buffy, but there had to be a better way to save her, right? And what if she didn’t even need rescuing? And couldn’t they find a way to not hurt Spike?

 

Tara began to follow after the group, but paused when she saw that Dawn was standing stock still, her face like stone, eyes narrowed in suspicion at Riley. Her arms were folded tightly against her chest, and her lips were set in a tight, narrow line. She moved back to the 14-year-old.

 

"What’s wrong, Dawn?" The teen looked up at the Wiccan.

 

"Spike would never hurt Buffy," she replied in a loud, clear voice. The others instantly turned back to look at her. Dawn noticed that both Anya and Willow had a tiny, hopeful smiles on their faces, looking like they were thankful that someone had stood up for the vampire. Giles, however, was frowning.

 

"Now, Dawn, we’re not entirely certain of that. He does hold a grudge against her for the chip, and he does believe it to be her fault that it was placed in his head in the first place, though he should place his blame fully on the Initiative."

 

"Yeah, Dawnie, remember? Spike is big evil monster guy? He’s done nothing but pout, whine and moan over the past year about how he wants get the chip out to kill things, and, more specifically, kill the Slayer. Well, he most definitely has his chance now, and he is gunning for Buffy," Xander added. Dawn rolled her eyes, looking entirely disgusted at the men.

 

"Hello? Did you guys even hear what Anya said? About Spike being fond of Buffy? About the claim being more of a protection system than a kill factor? And what about the past three weeks since he even got the chip out? He hasn’t even been killing, he’s still living on baggy blood from Willy’s and the hospital! And if Spike wanted to kill Buffy so bad, don’t you think he would’ve done it by now? He’s had plenty of chances!

 

"I don’t care what you think of him, but I would trust Spike with my life! When he and Dru had me, she and Angelus were so big with leaving an extremely dead little sister on the porch as a message to Buffy, like they did with Miss Calendar. But Spike protected me. He didn’t have to, and he didn’t have the chip then, so what in the hell makes you think that he’ll take advantage of not having the chip now?"

 

Dawn scrutinized the less-smarter men and noticed that the overgrown Boy Scout was starting to fidget nervously. <I knew it> she thought bitterly. That stupid prick just wanted to get rid of Spike so he could be deemed the hero and be accepted in the group again.

Giles pondered over her words for a bit, inwardly wondering how a not-really-there thousand year old green blob of energy in the form of his Slayer’s teen sister could be so perceptive in the extremely short span of two months that she’d actually been with them. Then he sighed.

 

"All the more, Dawn, I’d feel much better if I saw her safe with my own eyes. Be it that she is with Spike, I am needless to say, not entirely worried, since I am aware that she can take care of herself. I am not entirely positive that she will come out unscathed, however, since Spike is a Slayer of two former Slayers. But... I trust your words, Dawn. Let’s pray that Riley is mistaken about Spike only claiming her for the death."

 

Everyone began to file out the door, and Anya shut and locked it securely. As they walked to Spike’s cemetery, Dawn heard Xander mutter, "Yeah, sure, right. Spike’s probably drained and killed her by now."

 

She sighed. Not exactly something she wanted to hear.

 

 

 

 

She hadn’t been expecting this. Not at all. But she supposed it was a better deal than having Spike rip her throat out with his fangs, th way he’d always talked about.

 

"Mmmph," she grunted, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer in to the kiss. Spike gave a low murmur of pleasure, and responded eagerly.

 

When he’d said he was going to teach her a lesson, she’d been honestly afraid that he was going to rip her limbs right off and beat her to death with them, or something equally worth a major ‘ewwww,’ but that hadn’t been the case. In fact, she’d seen something flicker in his eyes the moment he had taken in her now helpless position. And then he’d pounced on her, all but ravaging her. She paused for a moment to look into his eyes, then ardently resumed the kiss full-force.

 

Yeah, definitely better. No throat-ripping for Buffy. Tonsil-swabbing with Spike was much better.

 

A lot more fun, too.

 

Spike growled ecstatically when Buffy continued the kiss with so much more vigor than before. It was like she was using their lips to pull him into her. Not in the full-fledged sweaty, hot, naughty, naked, ‘woohoo! Fun!’ sense, but more as in the essence. He felt like she was giving some of her soul to him with just that kiss. He shrugged it off, though; must be a mortal’s version of a claim.

 

And suddenly, he couldn’t take it anymore. He remembered back to that night last week, and the feel of his naked skin against hers... oh, Jesus, he needed to feel that again. He craved it. So once again, he began tearing at her top. And he all but cheered when she didn’t protest.

 

"God, I want you," he growled, jerking the shirt over her head in one clean swipe. Taking one moment to appreciate the smooth, flawless, ample golden breasts before him, he dove down and captured one automatically hard, rosy-brown nipple in his mouth. Buffy cried out immediately, arching her back against him, her hand darting to the back of his head and clutching him to her. Spike’s free hand drifted up and cupped her other breast, kneading it roughly and toying with the other nipple. Buffy’s head fell back, her mouth open. Oh, god, so good... so, so good.

 

The moment Spike’s other hand moved between her legs was probably when all coherent thought processes crashed and burned.

 

She clamped her legs down and pushed her hips forward anxiously, trying to gain some form of friction by rubbing against his hand. Her own hands trailed down his back and began ripping at his shirt. Spike growled.

 

"Hey, hey, hey, watch it, luv! I like this shirt!" Buffy giggled, sitting up and tugging his shirt off all the way.

 

"Like you can’t find other ones exactly like it!" Spike snorted and gently pushed her back down, pressing his cool skin against her.

 

"None as comfortable, princess." The Slayer replied with a contented ‘mmmm’ in a tone similar to a purr, and Spike groaned, hardening rapidly. He ground against her lightly, and a pleased grin quirked his lips. Good, she liked this. Now what if he just slid his hand down here...

 

"GNNAAHHHHHH!"

 

Oh, yeah. That was the best sound that he had ever heard. He snickered, releasing his hold and moving his hand to her clasp and zipper. Unclasping the button, he allowed his fingers to dance around above her mound, teasing her by dipping them downward sporadically. When the small fingers on the back of his head gripped hard and jerked his head up, he chuckled. Buffy glared down at him expectantly.

 

"Dammit, Spike, stop teasing me!" Spike chuckled and unzipped her pants, sliding the scratchy material over her hips slowly.

 

"Don’t worry, luv. It’s coming. Well, you are anyway." Buffy managed a soft giggle as Spike began tugging the pants down from around her calves. And he finally yanked the black slacks to the ground, followed quickly by her white floral lace thong. Buffy hissed softly, squeezing her eyes shut as the very cold stone touched her burning skin. Then she looked up at Spike, who was staring down at her nude body, slack-jawed.

 

<Holy fuck> was pretty much the only thought running through the vampire’s mind.

 

If he thought he couldn’t get any harder, he was dead wrong.

 

Buffy’s eyes lowered to his crotch, and a slow grin spread across her face. Oooh. She really liked making that happen to him.

 

She raised a strong, smooth leg between his, rubbing her thigh slowly against the throbbing bulge. Spike groaned loudly and ground into her harder, steadily. Grunting, he supported himself with one hand, while his other ran down her perfect left leg, spreading her wide open. Buffy’s eyes shot open as Spike thrust two cold fingers inside of her, eliciting a loud passionate moan from her throat.

 

"Oh, god," she whimpered, arching into him. Her hips began to lift up, meeting each of his slow, measured thrusts, and her right leg, entwined between both of his legs, began gliding over his crotch, slowly at first, then gaining in speed. She threw an arm around his neck and concentrated on the feel of his hand inside of her as well as pleasing the very hard muscle between his extremely nice thighs. Spike let out a huge wail of gratitude for her attention to his aching cock, and in response, his fingers pumped faster. Buffy squealed.

 

"Ahh! Oh, god, Spike..." She whimpered again as Spike’s lips closed on her quickly healing wounds, pulling them open again with a gentle suck of his lips. He began drinking as the smooth, sweet, rich blood began flowing into his mouth, and with each pull of his lips, the feeling traveled down to her crotch. It made her muscles twitch around his fingers, made her thrust harder and higher.

 

Spike moaned, his eyes nearly rolling up. Her arousal was absolutely intoxicating. Oh, Christ, this was better than his last kill. Buffy was driving him up the wall. He jerked suddenly, pulling away, her warm blood splattering on his lips. His fingers slid out of her, and he ignored the disappointed whine that escaped her throat. His cool mouth began raining soft, worshipping kisses over her hot skin, starting at her neck and leading to her breasts. Pausing for a bit, he sucked and nibbled on the hard pebbled nipples, pressing harder kisses against her, moving down her tight, taut belly, to her hips, to her—

 

"HOLY SHIT!"

 

Buffy shot straight up only to be pushed right back down again by a very persistent Spike hand. She got up again, attempting to close her legs and kick him away at the same time, but he gripped her firmly, holding her down like a steel clamp. A heavy, pale, blonde, annoying, pressuring, muscular, positively gorgeous steel clamp. She vainly tried to kick at him, twisting on to her side and trying to crawl away.

 

"Stop it, Spike! Leave me – OW! I can NOT believe you just did that!" she squawked, rubbing a hand over the very red handprint on her rump. Spike grinned mischievously, pushing her down on her back again and firmly setting her legs apart. He trailed his finger slowly down her stomach.

 

"Believe it, baby. Now HOLD STILL. Or do you want me to get rough?" Buffy gaped at him, momentarily sidetracked by what the implications of his words could lead to, then squirmed again, snapping out of it and trying to protest.

 

"Spike, don’t. Please don’t, Spike, no – ooooooh!" Her cry resonated in the crypt, contradicting her attempted resistance. Spike chuckled softly, his face nuzzled happily right between he Slayer’s thighs. His tongue slid out and ran slowly along her slit, then pushed past her lips, touching the pointed tip just above her clit.

Buffy’s eyes were killing her. They were open so damn wide, it was a wonder that they hadn’t fallen out yet. She was dying to grab Spike’s head and force him to go deeper, but as luck would have it, Spike had her hands pinned to the concrete. Damn.

 

Hold on.

 

She experimentally thrust against his mouth. And was rewarded by an eager groan and a tongue pushing its way inside of her.

 

"Nnnghhh! Oh... Spike, yes... uhhh..." If she didn’t stop moaning like that, Spike’s head was gonna explode. As it was, he was grinding against the stone slab to keep himself somewhat sane.

 

She tasted amazing. Not too sweet, not too bitter. Warm and luscious... like a fresh, ripe peach.

 

Delicious.

 

He finally released her arms, and her hands instantly made a grab for his head, the blonde locks curling around her fingers. Spike slid his tongue around before finally focusing on the clit. He licked a circle around it once, then rapped it sharply. He grinned to himself when Buffy responded, her hips jumping up, and he finally gave in to the poor girl, pulling the swollen nub between his lips, sucking it slowly with a hard edge. Buffy’s head lolled about above him, her face picturesque of natural beauty, her lips letting slip soft moans and mewls that made him want to stay buried in her forever with each plunge of his tongue. A gasping cry slipped out of her mouth as Spike sank his teeth gently into the sensitive swell.

 

"Sp-ike! What... wh-wha... oh, god..." she choked out, her insides beginning to clutch. Thrusting frantically, she dug her fingers into his scalp, jerking his head down to meet her hips each time. "Harder... harder! Oh, god, harderharder, PLEASE, Spike!"

 

Spike really had to fight to keep control at the sound of the Slayer moaning, gasping his name, and begging – actually begging – him to go harder. He complied to her desperate pleas, his tongue pressing coarsely against her clit, pushing into it mercilessly.

 

<Whatever you want, baby.>

 

Harder, slower, faster, faster, rougher. He lashed at her relentlessly, and oh Jesus, he was gonna come right in his jeans if her moans got any louder. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, thrashing around up there, like some untamed beast, her eyes shut, sweating, her beautiful hair all mussed up and –

 

Yum.

 

Buffy moaned, spasming into his mouth, her hips arching off the stone while her entire body convulsed. Geez. And she thought his fingers were talented. This was incomparable, and the feeling she was being bombarded by was ten times the way she’d felt when he’d first introduced her to the intimate side of his hand.

 

It was somewhere between the last quakes of her orgasm, and the settling emotions when she realized a few things. First... this was fun. Second...

 

She was really, really late for training.

 

But her third and fourth realizations shocked her the most. Third, she didn’t care if she was late, and fourth, she didn’t want to leave. Sitting up, her eyes lowered once more to Spike’s very swollen crotch.

 

Buffy REALLY didn’t want to leave.

 

Spike lifted his head to stare at her face, licking his lower lip clean of her juices, then tilting his head. He watched as the emotions flickered through her eyes. Slowly, Buffy leaned forward, pressing er lips gently to his. Spike whimpered softly and threw an arm around her, kissing her back feverishly.

 

"Buffy," he gasped, pulling away from her kiss for a bit to nuzzle her neck affectionately. Buffy pulled away and studied him for a moment, looking into his eyes. Her hand slowly reached forward, moving toward his jeans, and Spike watched silently, shivers racing up and down his body in anticipation.

 

Suddenly he looked up. Uh-oh.

He jumped to his feet and helped Buffy off of the sarcophagus. He gathered her clothes and shoved them at her.

 

"Get dressed luv. Come on, put your things on, quick." Buffy gave him a confused look but obediently began fumbling for her things, hopping on one leg as she squirmed into her panties.

 

"Why, what is it?" she asked, hopping into the slacks and pulling on the peasant top. Spike shot a paranoid, dispairing glance at the door of the crypt, then looked back at Buffy.

 

"Hit me." Buffy did a double take, staring at him, astounded.

"What?" Spike gazed at her, grasping her shoulders.

 

"HIT ME." Buffy jerked away from him in shock.

 

"How can you ask me that? After what just happened? I’m not gonna hit you, Spike, no way!" Spike growled. Why was he so annoyed? Not listening to him was one BIG ass Stubborn Buffy trait. He knew that the only way to make the bull-headed little chit listen (usually) was to piss her off.

 

Luckily, he happened to excel in that particular department.

 

"HIT ME, you stupid bloody bint!" he yelled, tossing an effectively powerful, violent punch across her face. Buffy’s head snapped to the side, and her hand promptly rose to her cheek, covering the mark. Her head slowly turned back to scrutinize him, incredulous. Then she hauled off and gave him a blow that sent him flying right onto his ass in the middle of the crypt.

 

And Here Enter Scoobies.

 

Buffy glared down at Spike angrily, nearly ready to strangle the stupid blonde bastard, until she saw his eyes flit to something behind her. She followed his gaze and turned, finding several shocked friends and an extremely unwelcome boyfriend gaping at her. She turned back quickly to stare at Spike in astonishment. How the hell... Oh, god. Spike had known that they were coming. He’d known, and he’d told her to hit him so they wouldn’t be caught in any compromising positions. But how... oh. Right. Vampire. She stared at him quietly, her heart nearly breaking at his pained expression.

 

Damn. Now she felt bad.

 

She turned back to her friends and watched them nervously.

 

"Um, hi, guys." Giles looked over the top of his glasses at his charge, frowning heavily.

 

"Buffy, what is going on here?" Buffy shifted on one foot, but made no attempt to come closer to the gang.

 

"Oh, uh, nothing. I, uh, I came here to talk to Spike. To get some info. On a vamp nest somewhere downtown. And he, uh, pissed me off. So I hit him. Uh... yeah." Spike was now getting to his feet, wiping a streak of blood from his mouth and licking it off, shooting the entire group (Riley in particular) a dirty look. He stood a little ways to the side, behind Buffy. Xander cocked his head.

 

"Well we can see that, Buff, not that he didn’t deserve it, whatever he did, but –"

 

"Why is it that you lot never see fit to knock on my bloody door, but even if I’m not invited, I go out of my way to knock on yours?" Spike growled, effectively shutting Xander up for a moment with his icy glare. "I don’t see why it is that you can’t fuckin’ respect me. I am a VERY POWERFUL FORCE, now, people! I can kill you all in one single instant, but hell knows why I haven’t! It’s one thing when you’re searchin’ for some bloody info, but this is my fuckin’ HOME! Now GET OUT!"

 

At that instant, Dawn pushed forward, moving toward the extremely pissed off vampire. Riley reached out to grab her and pull her back, but Dawn shoved him away angrily, running to Spike’s side and grabbing his arm. Giles reacted with apprehension.

 

"Dawn, get away from him!" The teen glared rebelliously at the Watched, then turned to the vampire, her gaze softening. Spike, at the moment, was glaring at the three men of the group hatefully, then jumped lightly when Dawn tugged on his arm. He hadn’t even realized she was next to him.

 

"Spike? You okay? Buffy didn’t go overboard or anything, did she?" Spike looked down at the little brown-haired morsel in confusion. When he realized that the girl was actually concerned about him, his eyebrows rose up, the hard angry lines vanished from his face, and he gazed at the fourteen year old in wonder. Dawn knew he’d gotten the chip out. She knew that he could rip her apart at any moment. And she still wasn’t afraid.

 

That did it. This girl was officially his. He didn’t need to claim her to show that. The Summers girls were HIS. He nodded slowly, reached a hand up to cover hers, and gently squeezed it.

 

"Yeh, luv, I’m fine. Don’t worry your pretty head about me," he murmured. Then he lifted his head and glared past Buffy at the men.

 

"Watcher, I respect you. Honestly, I don’t know why, seein’ as you’ve never treated me with one ounce of respect since we met. But I do. Harris, I... tolerate you on the good days. Cardboard, get this one thing straight – I hate you. Can’t stand you. Despise you, want you nowhere near me. Right now, though, I can’t stand lookin’ at any one of you pillocks, an’ I want you to get the bloody hell out of my home, NOW."

 

Spike had managed to completely stun Giles by his act of emotion towards Dawn. He nodded wearily to show that he had heard the vampire. If anything, Spike had looked touched that Dawn had been worried about him. And he’d also noticed that Spike was being completely civil to the girls.

 

It was quite conceivable that Spike truly hated the men.

 

Well, duh.

 

"Come along, Dawn, Buffy. Your mother will be fretting, and we really shouldn’t leave her alone too long." Dawn nodded at him, and as he left, she turned to Spike, throwing her arms around him tightly and completely taking the vampire off-guard. His eyes widened slightly, and he awkwardly patted the girl’s back.

 

"Uh, thanks, pet. Go on, now. Mum’ll be wonderin’ ‘bout you." Dawn nodded again, giving him a final squeeze.

 

"Take care. Don’t let Buffy act like she’s on top of the world and push you around or anything, kay?" Spike favored her with a smile and chuckled.

 

"Natch, pet." Dawn grinned and bounced out the door. Tara shot Spike a weary but grateful smile, then worriedly hurried out the door after the fourteen-year-old before she could find and/or create a calamity. Anya fidgeted slightly and tugged impatiently on Xander’s arm.

 

"Can we go now, PLEASE? Buffy’s fine, see? She’s hitting Spike like normal! And I have to go through that damn monthly ritual that human females go through. You know, the menstrua—" Xander clapped his hand firmly over his girlfriend’s mouth, blanching. He gave everyone a sheepish grin, shot a scowl at Spike (who had one huge grin on his face, somehow managing to keep himself from laughing his ass off), then dragged her out the door.

 

Willow drifted toward Buffy, her head tilted to one side, and she gently put her hand on the blonde’s shoulder. She’d been watching the Slayer before, and noticed that she kept shooting guilty looks at Spike, though the bleach blonde was pointedly ignoring them. He was now shuffling about the crypt, gathering his things and setting them down randomly. Buffy looked up at the touch of her friend’s hand, and she gave Willow a weak smile.

 

"Hey, Wills," she murmured, watching Spike finish cleaning, then lift himself up onto the sarcophagus. Lying down on his back, he folded his arms behind his head. Willow looked at Buffy.

 

"Are you okay? You look kinda... conflicted, y’know?" Buffy smiled.

 

"Yeah, I’m good. Just a little tired. You know, with the... the bursting in, and the... fighting, and... well, the bursting in and the fighting." She sighed. "I don’t know." Willow frowned sympathetically, then leaned in.

 

"Buffy, did he bite you again? I-I mean, not that he... uh, but, um, Riley said t-that he did, and I, uh, just wanted to m-make sure." Buffy’s eyes shot to a suddenly stoic Riley, standing as a sentinel at the door of the crypt. Hmph. A soldier through and through. She narrowed her eyes, then sighed.

 

"Yeah, he did. BUT," she added quickly, holding her hand up to cut off an inevitable Willow ramble, "I let him. I didn’t stop him. In fact," she turned a paranoid eye towards the vampire," I... I kinda... made him. I... wanted him to bite me." Willow’s eyes widened.

 

"Buffy!"

 

"Shh! Vamp hearing!"

 

"Sorry, sorry!" Willow shifted on one foot, looking around nervously. "So, you, uh... wanted him to? Really?" Buffy bit her lower lip, peeking up at Willow from under her lashes guiltily.

 

"Um... yes?" Buffy sighed and pouted. "I don’t know why. I can’t explain it really well... I just wanted him to. It’s... intense, y’know? It kind of... grabs me and... pulls me to him... and I just can’t understand why but... I sort of... like being around him!" she whispered in the lowest possible voice. She truly hoped it was low enough to slip past Spike’s already spectacular hearing. But she knew she was asking for too much.

 

Once again, this was SPIKE.

 

Willow smiled gently. She knew that Buffy was probably writhing in agony over this. She probably didn’t even realize that it was the claim having that partial effect over her. "Buffy, you might be happy to know that there’s a reason for all this. Riley said that Spike claimed you." Buffy looked up.

 

"What? No, no, Will. I know he did, but that’s not why. The Spidey goes extra wiggy when he’s around, yeah, and I feel connected to him, even when he isn’t around, but all that is the claim. I don’t know where the hell these other feelings are coming from." Willow looked at her in surprise.

 

"So you knew? A-And the claim, how do you know what’s the claim and what isn’t?"

 

"Well I only just found out when he bit me again, cuz I heard him. And it’s just a feeling. A Slayer has never been claimed before, so there might be some different effects. I dunno, Giles told me. I wasn’t paying much attention." Willow nodded slowly.

 

Was this bad?

 

Buffy was shaking her head, sighing. "I don’t know. I’ll figure it out eventually. You should probably go. You have that Sociology class tomorrow, while I have to deal with a moody vampire and a neglected ex who can’t take a hint." Willow smiled gently.

 

"You’ll be careful?" Buffy grinned.

 

"As always, I shall deal. See you later."

 

"Later, Buffy!" Willow called, walking out the door.

 

When Willow had disappeared, Riley turned toward Buffy, folding his arms.

 

"So. Are we gonna –"

 

"No," Buffy said firmly. "Get out, Riley. I don’t want to deal with you right now. I thought I’d made it pretty clear when I said I never wanted to see you again. Would you please fucking listen to me this time? I NEVER... EVER... want to see you again. That means don’t come near me. Don’t come near my family and friends. And stay the hell away from Spike, I can take care of him on my own." Spike’s head shot off the stone at the mention of his name. Oh. Buffy was telling the Ring-A-Ding Dick off. Sounded like she was breaking up with him.

 

Oooh. Oooh! OOOH! She was dumping him! She’d remembered his request for the front row seat!

 

Riley stared in disbelief at Buffy, unwilling to accept what he was hearing. "Buffy, are you insane? You’re breaking up with me? I thought we had something good here, what’s going on?" Buffy straightened, folding her arms.

 

"What’s going on is that I’ve finally gotten some... stones," she replied, hazarding a glance at Spike, her eyes widening slightly in surprise when she saw him watching the scene intently. She looked back at the commando. "Riley, you think everything has to be a competition between us. I let you lead me around on a short leash when I’m with you, and you’re always clinging to me. You expect me to drop everything I’m doing and run to your side the minute you say my name.

 

"You don’t seem to understand or –care- that my mother is sick, and I have to take care of her AND my teenage sister. And on top of that, I have to continually try to save the world and protect this goddamn town night after every fucking night from demons and vampires and, and demony-human hybrid THINGS! I refuse to dance around and balance on my fucking head every fucking time you want me to, and I have finally had it with you! We are THROUGH!" Riley’s hand shot out, shoving her to the wall. He grabbed her, squeezing her shoulders tightly.

 

"Wait a minute—" The second his hands touched her, Buffy’s fists instantly flew out, punching him and wrenching out of his grip. She tried desperately not to shudder. What had once offered calmness and comfort now gave her a sense of filth, and the really strong urge to vomit.

 

"Don’t TOUCH me!" she shrieked, "Don’t fucking put your hands on me ever, EVER again! Get the fuck away, stay the hell away from us! Get out!" Riley gazed at her, his shock stilling him enough to keep him from reacting on his anger. Dammit all to hell, this was all Spike’s fault! It –had- to be! Turning on his heel, he stormed out of the crypt.

 

Buffy wrapped her arms around herself, glaring in the direction the bastard had gone in. Thank God; she was finally free. It was so weird; once, he’d been sweet and dorky, doing anything to win her affection. Then the moment she gave in, he turned into some freaking psychotic tyrant.

 

History had a really bad habit of repeating itself.

 

When a cool presence behind her alerted her of Spike, she gasped and spun around, staring into a pair of beautiful blue eyes.

 

Spike tilted his head, watching Buffy with the utmost curiosity and intrigue. Wicked. Righteous. Powerful. Beautiful. Strong. Vulnerable. Brave. Timid. Warrior.

 

Yet, through everything that she was, no matter how old she was, or what she’d seen, Buffy was still one thing.

 

A girl. She was still just a little girl, though her eyes had shown her way too much of the world.

 

Such a brave, brave girl.

 

Yeah, he was definitely in love with her.

 

He gently took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it with a gentleness and sincerity that she hadn’t expected, not from him. She began to shake. Why hadn’t she been this nervous earlier? There he’d had his head between her legs, and she hadn’t even twitched with embarrassment! But this... All he’d done was kiss her hand, and she was ready to faint from the fright of it all.

 

She let out a shaky breath as Spike wrapped an arm gently around her waist, pulling her close. With an equally tranquil hand, he brought her chin up and cupped her cheek, his thumb idly stroking it.

 

Oh, boy. Oh, boy, oh, boy, oh, boy. This was gonna be big, he could feel it. The sensations were running rampant from his toes to his scalp, bouncing around inside of him. He hadn’t felt this way around a woman, not since William had found the courage to speak to a particularly cruel, selfish, aristocratic bitch. One that he’d been foolish enough to fall in love with. Spike prayed to God that he wasn’t making the same mistake.

 

Damn him if he didn’t know any better. He could swear his heart was beating off the charts, banging around aimlessly inside of his chest. He leaned in slowly, licking his lips and swallowing hard. He was fully prepared to kiss this girl right off her feet.

 

The second before Spike’s lips touched hers, Buffy made a dismayed sound and jerked back, ruining Spike’s vision of the most perfect kiss of his entire existence. Trembling violently, she began to walk backwards, then spun around and shot out the door at light speed.

 

And in that moment, Spike felt his heart stop beating once more, before it completely shattered.

 

Watching her leave, with a pained expression on his face, he sank to the floor.

 

 

 

 

Buffy raced down the street toward her home. Screw the Scooby meeting. She could throw off patrolling until later.

 

This was getting out of hand.

 

No one was supposed to make her feel like this, no one except for Angel, and she was long past her romantic teenage views of him. But he’d been the only one who’d made her feel so quivery and weak. And that was something that Spike should NOT have access to.

 

But he did. Something different had happened when Spike had tried to kiss her. At first, this whole thing had just been some weird sort of hidden attraction, then later, a way to keep her mind off of Riley. It never meant anything... to her, anyway.

 

The way he’d moved... the way he’d touched her had shown her a completely different side of Spike. A side she wasn’t so sure she wanted to see. He’d been mean, evil, icky Spike for so long, and seeing sweet, gentle, yummy Spike with the evil, sharp teeth was... well, it was wiggy. (Actually it was more like a kick in the gut – the yummy Spike part was big and disturbing enough to have its own damn zip code).

 

What was even more wiggy about it was that she –liked- sweet, gentle, yummy Spike with the evil, sharp teeth.

 

She looked up and realized she was in front of her house. Mom would be in her room. Dawn was either at Janice’s or watching TV.

 

She should probably check in.

 

Instead, she sank down on the porch steps and buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook, and she involuntarily let out a sob. Her entire body shuddered, and he crying became deep and gut-wrenching.

 

Oh, god, what was happening to her?

   

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