Part Three

Spike awoke with a start, his eyes wide and his jaw dropped. "Bloody 'ell..." he gasped, images from his dream flashing through his mind. "Oh God, Spike..." Buffy gasped, arching her back and trembling under his hands' and tongue's ministrations. He fell backwards, one of his hands reaching out blindly and grabbing a pillow, which he then pressed over his face, muffling a scream. "Buffy..." he breathed, his lips on her throat. "Buffy, I love you so much..."

"This isn't happening..." he groaned, taking the pillow away from his face.

A knock sounded at the door. "Spike?" Buffy poked her head into the room. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he mumbled. "M'fine."

"Oh, well... good," she returned. "I thought I heard a noise, but..."

"I'm alright, Slayer." He rolled over, his pecs rippling as he turned to his side. The motion drew Buffy's gaze to his chest, and she gazed appreciatively for a moment. "Goodnight," Spike said firmly, urging Buffy to leave so he could get up.

"Right. Goodnight." She left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

He reached over and flipped on the lamp that sat on the nightstand, then rolled out of bed. The soft glow of the lamp played over the planes of his nude body as he reached for his jeans, stepping into them and pulling them up his legs. He raised to his toes and tightened his buttocks, pulling the soft denim over his hips. He tucked himself in, then buttoned up the fly.

A black tee-shirt went over his head, mussing his platinum tresses, and he sat down on the bed, pulling on black socks and his boots. When he was dressed, he crept out the door and down the stairs silently, plucking his duster from its resting place on the banister and shrugging into it.

He opened the front door, stepping outside and closing it slowly, then pulled his silver Zippo and a cigarrette from his pocket, lighting up and stalking down the sidewalk toward Restfield Cemetary.

Trick was waiting for him when he arrived at his old crypt. His intention in sneaking out had been to pick up the last of his belongings, but he figured now was as good as any to meet up with the vampire who had decided to try to run the Hellmouth.

"I hear you're from the Master's line," Mr. Trick said as Spike brushed past him into the main room of the mausoleum.

"Yeah," Spike replied, glancing at the black vampire and his handful of minions. "What of it?"

"A vampire as powerful as yourself would be most helpful come Graduation day. And he'd probably like to know what side he should be on."

"That better not be a threat, mate..." the bleach-blond vampire snarled.

"Oh, heavens no," Trick replied. "I've got a proposition for you." He paused dramatically.

Spike rolled his eyes after a few minutes of silence. "Look, mate, I don't 'ave all day, so if you could skip the dramatic pausin' an' get on with it, I'd be much obliged."

"Oh," Trick said, snapping out of his druggie's blood-induced haze. "Right. The Mayor would like you on his side when he ascends. More... manpower if you will. We know you've killed Slayers, and that's where we need you. She's potentially the only one who could hurt him during the transformation."

"What do I get out of the deal?"

"You get to live," one of the minions piped up.

"Was I talking to you, Sparky?" Spike asked, glaring at the interrupter. His eyes fell on Trick again. "You don't mind if I..."

"Of course not. I've got more stupid minions where he comes from," he said with a chuckle.

Spike dashed across the crypt with a flurry of black and leather, scoop-kicking a chair up in the air and snapping a leg off as it fell. He turned and threw the jagged piece of wood at the minion, impaling his heart. The vampire exploded silently into dust. "Thanks, mate. Needed that."

"Anything for a powerful ally," Trick replied. "So I can assume that you'll be there during the Ascension?"

"Yeah," Spike said. "I'll be there."

"Excellent," Trick said, snapping his fingers and leaving the crypt, his minions following behind him. When the door closed, Spike walked over to a hole that was cut in the floor of the mausoleum, dropping downward and quickly gathering all his remaining things into a black hockey bag that had been lying off to the side. Metal clinked as he threw swords, manacles, and battleaxes into the bag. He quickly climbed the ladder, leaving the crypt and making his way back to Buffy's house.

"Where did you go?" Buffy asked from the shadows of the living room when he entered.

He jumped, nearly dropping the bag when she startled him. "Bloody 'ell," he hissed. "Next time warn a bloke before you do that."

"Sorry. What's in the bag?"

"M'things," he replied tersely. "Ran into Trick an' 'is lackeys at th' crypt."

"Oh," the Slayer replied. "What did he want?"

"Told me 'e wanted me in 'is gang on Graduation day. Wants me t' take you out."

"And are you going to? Try, I mean. It's not like you could actually take me..." she said teasingly.

"Oi," he exclaimed. "Jus' because I never 'ave, doesn't mean I never will."

She giggled. "Yeah, right..."

"Slayer..." he warned. Suddenly he noticed the bottle she clutched in her hand. "Are you drunk?"

"Not yet," she replied. "But I'm gettin' there."

He quirked an eyebrow. "Why the alcohol?"

"My life sucks," she replied. "I get called at fifteen, watch my first Watcher get killed, move to the friggin' Hellmouth... then I fall in love with a gorgeous guy who turns out to be a vampire. His incredibly strange Childer move into town next year, make my job even harder, I sleep with the gorgeous vampire, he goes psychotic and tries to kill all my friends. One of my friends puts back his soul, his Childer leave town. I run away after I send my vampire boyfriend to Hell, come back a few months later, find out that there's another Slayer, my vampire boyfriend comes back from Hell, his idiot Childe comes back - "

"Okay, enough with the Childer bashin', luv," Spike protested.

She continued as if he hadn't spoken. " - now the Mayor wants to eat the town, and my mortal enemy keeps coming onto me." She took a swig of the vodka she still clutched in her hand. "I think I deserve to get a little drunk."

"Does your mum know 'bout you drinkin'?" he asked.

"No," Buffy said, tipping the bottle up again. "I sent her out of town. Didn't want her to be the Mayor's food at Graduation."

Spike frowned. "Gimme some 'f that," he said.

"It's mine," she whined, wrapping her arms protectively around the bottle.

He shrugged and pulled a silver flask out of his pocket, unscrewing the cap and taking a hefty gulp of its contents. "Guess I'll get drunk the quicker way," he said, tilting the flask upwards again.

~*~*~*~*~

What'cha got there, Spikey?" Buffy asked. She was halfway through her second bottle, and Spike had completely drained his flask.

The blonde vampire was playing with his lighter, flicking it on and then closing it. "M'Zippo," he replied. "Lookit." He flipped the lighter around, lighting it and snapping it shut.

"Do it again," she said drunkenly. "For me?"

He shook his head vehemently, his eyes crossing momentarily as the room swam. "Nah, pet. Takes all the novelty out of it 'f a bloke does it too many times."

"Does... what?" she asked coquettishly.

"None o' that," he warned sternly. "Mortal emenies, 'member?"

"Emenies schmemenies. Yer a good kisser." She scooted closer to him on the couch. "Bet yer good at other things too."

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he teased.

She lowered her eyelashes seductively. "Yeah," she stated. "I would." With that, she pounced on him, the bottle falling to the floor and sloshing its contents about as it rolled.

"Slay-luv," he gasped as she ground down on him, her lips peppering wet kisses along his jawline. "We can't do this..." Her mouth latched onto his jugular, sucking hard. "Bugger this chivalry shit," he ground out, flipping her onto her back and attacking her lips with his own. His tongue plunged deeply into her mouth, swirling around her own. His teeth plucked at her lips.

"Upstairs," Buffy gasped as his mouth let up for a moment. "My room."

He stood suddenly, scooping her up into his arms and racing up the stairs using all of his preternatural speed. He deposited her onto her bed, then stripped off his duster and tee-shirt. Nimble fingers flicked open the top button of his jeans and he kicked off his boots and socks as he prowled predatorially toward her.

Her eyes widened with anticipation as he stalked closer to the bed, then crawled onto the foot of the mattress. "C'mere," she murmured invitingly, crooking one finger.

Suddenly he was upon her, his hands and lips a near-blur as they flew over her tingling skin. He yanked her shirt up over her head, tossing it to a far corner of the room, then tucked his fingers into the hem of her cut-off sweatpants. The pointed tip of his tongue dragged down her abdomen, dipping into her navel as his hands dragged her shorts down her legs. He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses to her stomach, then tugged the shorts the rest of the way off, tossing them as well.

He sat up for a moment, admiring her.

"Spike?" Buffy asked.

"Yeah, luv?"

"Less looking, more touching," she commanded.

"But..." he protested.

"Do you want to fuck me, Spike?" the blonde woman asked.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he nodded. "God, yes," he replied.

"Then do it..." she whispered. "I'm ready."

His fingers landed on the button-fly of his jeans, opening each closure with a flip of his wrist. He stood and pushed them down his legs, kicking them off, then turned to her.

"God, you're sexy," Buffy said, her eyes glazing slightly as she drank his form in with her hot gaze. "Get over here."

He climbed back onto the bed, settling between her legs and hooking his fingers beneath her knees, drawing her thighs up. "You're sure, luv," he asked, hissing in pleasure as his cool cock came in contact with her hot, soaking folds. He rubbed against her.

"Oh yeah," she whispered, her legs wrapping around his waist and pressing him into her.

His eyes rolled back as he sank into her, her inner muscles fluttering around him. She was nearly virgin-tight, and he panted harshly for unneeded breath, his mouth dropping to hers as he reeled in his control. "Hold on tight," he murmured against her lips as his hips began to move.

Soon the headboard was thudding against the wall with each powerful thrust, their moans and cries breaking up the rhythmic beat. "Oh my God," Buffy shrieked. "So good..."

"God's not 'ere," the bleach-blond vampire snarled, his eyes flashing yellow. "Who's got you?" his hips ceased their motion.

"Spi... Spike..." she sputtered. "Why'd you stop?" Her eyes were frantic and wild as her body desperately attempted to find release. She arched her hips against him, but he pulled out altogether.

"Who's got you?" he asked again. His fingers danced over her clit, brushing the sensitive nub of flesh several times.

"Spike..." she moaned. "Please, please Spike..."

"That's better," he said, thrusting into her once again and immediately picking up the hard rhythm once more. He dragged her legs up, draping them over his shoulders and the new angle caused him to batter her G-spot with each thrust. Each time the head of his cock rammed against the sensitive area, little, breathy grunts escaped her mouth.

Her thighs tensed and began to quiver. "Spike... I'm gonna... Ngohgod..."

Her body froze for a second, her eyes wide, and then her entire frame began to quake violently as she orgasmed. Her eyes stared blindly up at him, her throat working spasmodically, and a high-pitched keening noise escaped her mouth.

Moments later he followed her into climax, spurting stream after stream of cool semen into her. He vamped out, his fangs sinking into the flesh just above her right breast, and as they came down, he laved the bite marks carefully with his tongue, cleaning them of any remaining blood.

"Things'll be weird in the morning," Buffy murmured sleepily.

Spike pulled his softening cock out of her, rolling onto his side and curling around her. "I know," he whispered, kissing her temple as they drifted into slumber.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy had a throbbing headache. She opened her eyes a crack, glancing at the glowing green numbers on her alarm clock, and wondered why it was so dark in her bedroom at 8 AM. Her pillow moved.

She lifted her head, her eyes widening as she realized exactly who her pillow was. She groaned loudly, then winced at the noise in her head, which quite frankly felt like it'd been stuffed with cotton balls.

"Good morning," Spike murmured groggily, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Sleep well, pet?"

"What did we... oh my God," she gasped as images from the previous night's events flashed through her mind. "And I'm late for school."

He chuckled quietly. "You're the one who said things were gonna get weird," he reminded her.

"And they are," she replied. "I'm all fidgety, and you're all... why are you being nice to me anyway?"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Mostly, because I was wonderin' if you'd like another round of slap an' tickle, but also because s'nice to wake up next to a gorgeous lady."

"I can't - "

He cut her off with his lips against hers in a soft kiss. "I can do gentle, too..." he whispered. "Best thing for a hangover."

"But I have to go to school," she protested weakly. "I'm graduating tonight."

"Pet, if you miss the last day of school, you'll still be able to save th' world tonight," he replied, turning toward her and manipulating her pliant body until she lay on her side, facing away from him. He pressed himself up against her, lifting one of her legs and draping it backwards over his thighs, then slipped his cock between her legs. "C'mon," he coaxed, prodding her opening slightly.

"Mmm," she replied, her head falling to one side as he entered her slowly.

"Perfect fit," he whispered into her ear, his cool breath tickling her lobe before he worried it with blunt teeth. His hips rocked, his cock sliding in and out of her with infinite gentleness.

The fingers of his free hand stroked one of her breasts softly, twirling around a hard nipple and plucking at it. The same hand then ghosted down her stomach, situating itself atop the wiry hairs at the apex of her thighs.

"Gentle is good," Buffy murmured, arching her hips back into his. "Gentle is very good."

His fingers threaded through her pubic hair, dipping downward. The tip of his middle finger found her clit and rubbed it slowly, causing the embers of pleasure within her to become a delicious burn. His other fingers brushed against his cock as it moved in and out of her.

"Spike, I..." she trailed off as a white-hot spear of pleasure shot through her. "I'm so close..." she whispered. "Want you with me."

"Think I can manage that," he replied. His finger lifted off her clit, then tapped it, repeating this pattern a few times until she began to tremble in his arms, gasping for breath. Her quivering inner muscles milked his cock, tensing and relaxing spasmodically and sending him over the edge as well. His lips latched onto her collarbone, his tongue flickering over her flesh as he sucked against it.

"Hmm. Remind me to call you every time I get a migraine," Buffy said, lifting herself off him. They both moaned at the loss of contact. She turned and snuggled into his chest. "You're a good cure."

"Happy to oblige, luv," he whispered, tucking her head beneath his chin and wrapping his arms around her.

"I really do have to get up," Buffy said sadly.

"No reason why we can't come back to bed later though, luv..."

"Unless the Mayor eats us." After frowning at the mood-killer, she disentangled herself from his arms and slipped from beneath the covers, then stretched and shuffled across the room. She plucked her robe from the chair it was draped over. "Shower time," she said, shrugging into the robe and tying the sash.

"Want some help in there, luv?" Spike asked from his reclined position on the bed. He stretched lazily, his nails scratching over one pec.

She turned and smiled at him. "I think that if we showered together, we wouldn't get very clean."

"I can behave," he said, "but can you?"

"Probably not. I'll be out in a bit," she replied, turning and leaving the room.

~*~*~*~*~

When she returned from the shower, Spike stood nude before her mirror, holding up Mr. Gordo. The stuffed pig flew invisibly through the air in the reflection.

"Creepy," she remarked as she opened her closet and rifled through her wardrobe. "Shower's free."

He stepped away from the mirror, placing Mr. Gordo back on her dresser. "Thanks, luv," he murmured, walking across the hallway and stepping into the bathroom.

She dropped her robe and quickly pulled on a pair of black silk panties and a matching bra, then put on her leather pants and a blood-red, low cut tank top. She was fully-dressed when Spike returned, wearing a pair of black khakis and a black button-down. His hair was wet from his shower and stood in tousled curls about his head. "Hey," he greeted her, dropping a kiss onto her upturned lips.

"Hey," she replied, tucking a stake into the waistband of her pants. "I'm about to put on Eau d' Holy Water, so you want to get in one last nibble?" she asked.

His lips descended on her throat, licking and sucking at her jugular vein and practically tasting the blood that pumped so close to his tongue. After marking her with a small lovebite, he pulled back. "That'll 'ave to do," he said grudgingly, pulling away from her. "You do that often?" he asked, gesturing to her throat as she splashed a bit of holy water onto it.

"After the Master bit me, I started using Holy Water as perfume almost every night. And sometimes during the day." She took in his shocked expression. "Don't worry. I always wash up after I come in from a night's Slay."

"Right," he replied. "Ready to go shred an ascended demon?"

Author's Note: Okay, so I seem to have changed the storyline of my first story a whole bunch. Not that I mind writing a smutfest, but seriously, I think it might be getting a little out of hand. Anywho. The reason I'm re-writing The Warmth so much is that I figured having one Spike-turns-human story was plenty. If you want to read my S.T.H. story, go read Pretty Buffy.