by

Lisa Y. Drexel

"Why me?" Buffy groaned as she kicked the steel door one last time for good measure. "I mean, I try to be good. I do my duty. Hell, I don't even whine about it much anymore. I've saved the world a few times—"

"Well, so did I, pet, and look where it got me," Spike muttered from across the room.

She ignored him.

She had to ignore him.

She so did not want to be there—in this cell alone with Spike.

And no stakes.

"Damnit!" she screamed, giving the door one last kick.

"Slayer, will you stop with all that racket? It's giving me a bleeding headache!"

"Fuck you," she muttered softly, pushing off the door.

She heard a soft chuckle.

"What?" She turned on her heel and glared at him. "What the hell do you find so funny about this? Are these—"

His eyes flashed yellow. "Don't even say it, Slayer! I'm on your side now."

She snorted. "Yeah right. And tell me that the moment we could get that implant out that you wouldn't switch sides faster than I say, 'help Spike!'"

He said nothing as he lit a cigarette and sat down on the only available cot.

One bed—two of them.

Someone up there had to really hate her. She turned away from him and stared at the door, for once wishing she had Willow's powers and could whammy the damn thing open.

"What bothers you more? Being stuck in here with me or being at some no-name demon's mercy?"

She flinched, unable to stop the myriad of emotions from flowing through her. That was the question, wasn't it? She could handle that demon that put them in the cell, but Spike?

Ever since Willow's spell, her life had been turned upside down. And, ironically, this had to happen just as she was beginning to settle down from Angel's abandonment. She was walking on a clear path towards Riley Finn—a safe, normal man. Her schoolwork was doing better—all her little ducks were in row.

She could even tolerate Spike's presence if they'd be able to find out more about those commandos that had been running amok for months. Back then, pre-spell days, she never looked at Spike as anything beyond being Angel's childe and the bane of her existence.

That is, until the first kiss.

That was when her world was literally thrown askew.

Even as she felt the spell lift, a part of her moaned in protest. Liking the way he had held her—touched her—kissed her—somehow knowing intuitively that if his feelings had been real, she would have been cherished.

Just as Spike had worshipped Dru.

She heard the cot creek and the air move—knowing it was him moving behind her.

"Tell me, Slayer," he whispered, his mouth nearly touching her ear. "Do you sometimes wish that spell had lasted a bit longer? Does your body crave my touch—as it did before?"

"Spike—don't," she snapped, ignoring all those feelings churned inside her.

"Don't what, Slayer?" he asked right before his cool lips touched her neck. "Don't be honest? Don't admit to you that I lust after you—my mortal enemy? The bloody bane of my existence?"

She tried pulling away from his lips—uncertain of what she would do if she felt them once again touch her skin—but he anticipated her and wrapped a cool arm around her waist, pinning her body flush against his.

Buffy wondered if she really did have the willpower to push him away.

His mouth nibbled and sucked on her neck as his fingers slipped underneath her shirt—their coldness igniting the fire that had been simmering for over three months underneath her skin.

"Spike—"

"Slayer—you want me—admit it," he said growling softly as he pulled her tight against him. She could feel his hardness nestled in between her buttocks and silently groaned. "Are you wet for me yet, Slayer?" His free hand slipped around her, cupping one of her breasts. He groaned when his fingers touched her hard nipples.

His other hand slipped down to her sex, stroking her through her jeans.

"Damnit Spike!" she whispered, feeling the last of her resistance slip away. "Why you?" she asked as her head fell on his shoulder and looked up to meet his piercing eyes.

He actually chuckled right before he pressed a gentle kiss on her temple. "I don't really know, love, but someone somewhere has a real sick sense of humor." His fingers undid the top button on her jeans and within seconds her pants were undone. "All I know is that I can't hold off any longer. I want to fuck you, baby. Long and hard and many times," he said as his fingers began teasing the outside of her panties—causing her to whimper in want. He suddenly turned her around and stared down at her, grinning, as he started to walk them towards the cot, all the while kissing her neck and face.

Sighing, Buffy gave into the heat as she wrapped her arms around his neck and lifted one of her legs, hooking it around his waist—pressing herself harder against him.

Growling, he slipped his hands under her buttocks and lifted her in the air—carrying her the rest of the way across the room. Seconds later, she was lying down on her back, kicking off her shoes and pushing her pants off her legs. Meanwhile, Spike quickly divested himself of his clothing.

Buffy didn't even allow herself to think about it too much—knowing that if she did, she would stop herself from doing this. Ironically, it felt right. More right than Parker—that was for sure. And Riley?

Well, she'd deal with that later.

Grinning, Spike stood at the end of the cot and stared at Buffy's naked and aroused body. She could feel herself blushing all over—strangely aroused by the intense need in his eyes and the hard, pulsing cock that stood straight up—flush against his lower stomach.

How beautiful, she thought to herself as he kneeled at the end of the bed. So predatorial—sleek, yet white like marble. So much like Angel and yet as different as night and day.

Angel carried with him a gentle sadness that seeped into everything he touched. Spike, on the other hand, brought the zest of life into everything he cared about—whether it was fighting demons, drinking blood, boozing it up, teasing Willow or fighting with Buffy.

Passionate—enthralling—intense.

Buffy felt herself shiver in anticipation as he slowly crawled up the bed, his body barely touching hers—more like cool whispers than caresses.

He stopped at her sex and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath—inhaling her scent. "Cor, slayer—I have to taste you," he whispered as his head dipped down. Seconds later she felt his cold tongue lap at her outer lips—avoiding her clit and sending her body in a tailspin of want.

"Spike..." she moaned, arching her lower body upwards as her legs wrapped themselves around his neck.

He chuckled softly and quickly nipped at her nubbin, causing her whole body to break out in a sweat as her heartbeat took off—nearly deafening her in its loudness.

After nearly five minutes of teasing her, he pulled up and unhooked her legs from his neck and continued his trek upwards, not stopping until he was face to face with her.

"Slayer," he whispered right before kissing her, their tongues dancing together as his cock poked at her entrance—waiting for the go ahead. "Are you sure? If we do this, I won't walk away. I don't leave."

She lifted her eyes to his and saw the truth of his words in his face. He meant it. Could she do this? Could she handle another relationship with a vampire? And what would happen if the chip got removed? Would he still be there, by her side? "The chip? Even if it's gone, you'll stay?"

"Yes! Didn't I just say that?"

Grinning at him, she nodded. "Yes, I'm sure then, Spike," she whispered as she lifted her face up and met his lips with hers.

Slowly, he slid inside of her—filling her like she hadn't been filled in nearly two years. God, she missed this. Parker was a joke compared to this. Whimpering, she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his torso, allowing Spike to slip inside even further.

Growling softly, Spike broke the kiss and looked down at her—demon face at the forefront.

Their eyes met and held as he moved in out of her, picking up speed as both of them inched closer to their climaxes.

Buffy felt her whole body tense and her mind splinter as she yelled out his name.

Spike's face twisted in pleasure as he bent down towards her neck. Seconds later, she felt his fangs slide into her neck, sending her body into another, even stronger orgasm—soon followed by his cold seed shooting up her womb.

His teeth retracted as he lifted his head, and she looked up to see his handsome human face staring down at her. Smiling, he kissed her thoroughly, before returning to the bite marks she was now sporting on her neck. After cleaning the wound, he pulled out and rolled over on his back, tugging her over to him.

"Well, that was sure unexpected," he whispered as his fingers twirled her tangled hair.

Giggling, Buffy began drawing odd shapes on his chest as she nodded in agreement. "What? The sex or the bite?"

He sighed. "The bite, Slayer. I didn't think I could use my teeth on anything more alive than a Wheatabix."

Snickering, she looked up at him and shrugged. "Probably has to do with brain centers. When you bite or commit violence on someone alive—one part of your brain is activated. When you're biting for sexual fulfillment—for both parties, it's your pleasure center that's affected. You knew that I had been with a vampire before, so I wouldn't be too surprised or even shocked at your bite. So, it wasn't a violence thing."

Growling, he shook his head. "Bloody well give me a headache just thinking about it," he muttered. Suddenly, he turned and gave her a quick kiss and stood up.

Buffy watched him gather their clothes—catching hers as he tossed them to her and sighed softly. A part of her didn't want to get dressed or even leave this cell. Reality was on the other side, and with her luck, it wasn't going to give her a break.

"Love, you better put some clothes on. I would hate to have that bloody demon-hole come in here and ogle you," he said as he sat down on the edge of the cot and lit a cigarette.

Groaning to herself, Buffy nodded in agreement and quickly dressed. "Now what?" she asked him once she was dressed and sitting next to him.

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her over to him. Once her head was resting on his shoulder, he dropped his cigarette and stomped it out with his boot. "I meant what I said earlier, Slayer. I won't leave you."

Buffy nodded as her mind flashed on Giles and the rest of gang—they would not be too happy to hear about this. Xander still bitched about the nightmares the spell-induced engagement of Spike and Buffy's caused. "You ready to deal with Xander?"

"Poof Two?" He asked, waving his hand in disgust. "Not even worth mentioning."

Buffy chuckled softly, inside knowing it wasn't going to be the smooth ride that Spike had implied, but instead, she took comfort in his words anyway. Yawning, she closed her eyes, enjoying their closeness and his scent and soon found herself drifting off into a deep slumber.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door flew open, causing Spike's hold on the slayer to tighten as he watched Giles, Xander and Willow run in the room.

"There you are!" Giles mumbled as he stopped in front of the cot. "Come on, let's get out of here."

Spike nodded as he lifted the slayer in his arms, pressing her head against his chest, careful to hide the bite marks now marring her neck.

As the slayer would say, he so did not want to deal with this now.

Willow tipped her head, watching them carefully as a slow, knowing smile curled her lips.

Maybe it won't be so bad after all, he thought to himself as he followed Giles out of the room. At least Red doesn't mind.

The End

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©1999 Lisa Y. Drexel