Riley was really starting to bug her. He was sitting right on the edge of her last nerve and twisting it like a Chinese burn. And all she wanted to do was relocate his teeth. To the other end of Sunnydale…to another cemetery. Anywhere that would mean she could hunt in peace.

Instead, he grinned happily at her before twisting around and finishing off his vampire. Buffy rolled her eyes and tucked her superfluous stake in the back of her jeans. Dust, check! Annoying boyfriend? Check!

The dissatisfaction with her lot was really starting to make her skin itch. Resigned to Riley hanging around for the rest of her patrol, she tried to race him for the next rising vampire, only to be almost knocked back by a streak of black and white. The refusal of the block colours to merge into grey made her giggle at the irony. ‘Cause, grey Spike. Wouldn’t that be neato!

“Why do I even bother to show up?” She wasn’t really angry though, cause Spike!

That fascination with Spike—the one that was her constant companion for the past year—was raising its demon head yet again. She still hadn’t stopped lusting after his coat, or wanting to again check out his…attributes—the ones that she’d missed making an acquaintance with by the ending of Willow’s spell.

Still, another intruder to her hunt…what was with these guys?

“Spike, what are you doing here?” She didn’t even bother to retrieve her stake.

“Same thing as you and your Cub Scout here, I'll wager.”

Buffy struggled with the smile—she really did—but the names he called everyone… And when he pounded on the newly risen vamp, beating him to the ground and turning with a big proud grin, like he was waiting for Slayer approval…well, it made her want to pat his head and give him a reassuring scratch behind the ears.

And that accent, she wanted to roll in that accent. Drink it up until she was filled to bursting with juices.

And then Riley rolled into vision and she was back to being stuck with already having a boyfriend. She couldn’t help the little curl of distaste. Stuck with plain, vanilla, mid-western American boyfriend when across the way she had Mr. All-Shirty-And-Proud despite being chipped, and God, was that leather cool.

“A spot of violence before bedtime.”

Buffy stood motionless for a moment, her brain catching up from the images of dusterless Spike to work out what he was talking about.

“Violence?” she asked before memory kicked in. “Violence!” she stated sharply as he went down from a hard punch, blood spurting from his nose.

When he bounced back to his feet he was oblivious to the attacking vamp, almost hypnotised by the gleaming red fluid that was swiped onto his fingers from his nose. It was when he started to lick it that Buffy wrinkled up her nose and her standard ‘ewww’ came expressively from her lips.

“Better keep out of my way, Spike. I'm not gonna take this much longer.” Buffy wasn’t sure what it was that she wasn’t going to take, but it sounded good as Riley lumbered up behind her.

“And I should do what in my spare time? Sit at home knitting cunning sweater sets?”

“You can knit?” Buffy blushed a fiery red as she took stock of the foolish words her brain had felt necessary to humiliate her with.

Spike raised a brow and then promptly ignored her.

“I mean, would it keep you out of my way?” she scrambled, trying for the extra quick cover even if it wasn’t overly convincing.

“She's right. You shouldn't be out here when she's patrolling.” Riley’s authoritative voice made her look at him with exasperation.

Buffy couldn’t help herself. She wanted to twist Riley’s nose off his face and stick it up his…well, the picture was too vivid for even the most hardened of Slayers.

“Oh! I saw that. Looks like neither boy's entirely welcome. You should take him home, Slayer. Make him stay there. I've got knitting needles he can borrow.”

Oh, how right he was, except with the Riley part…she could cope with Spike, even with the nose blood. At least he fought with a kind of grace that was almost beautiful to watch. Riley was…big…and bulky…not so graceful? He moved like an elephant on roller-skates. Buffy found herself feeling exasperated and wanting to move on. Move on where she didn’t have to see Riley’s carbon copy Angel hangdog expression.

“Spike ... I just saw you taste your own nose blood, you know what?” Spike’s grin turned her backbone to water. “I'm too grossed out to hear anything you have to say. Go home.” Keeping up appearances, thy name is Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

She stalked off, followed by an irritated lover who had his hands on her already and she just wanted to sock him one in the jaw. Was there a known medical condition where some men made you nauseous? ‘Cause if there was, she needed the pills.

The rumble of Spike’s indignation chasing them out of the graveyard had her yearning to go back and fight with him extra strong.

“It's blood! It's what I do!”

He shook with anger as they left, backs turned to him without a care in the world, without any fear of his attack. That just burned his gut.

“I will know your blood, Slayer.” He paused as he sniffed; thought of the best way to take that sample with a smile on his face. “I will make your neck my chalice ... and drink deep.”

Buffy heard it as she walked back toward him, bouncy in her excited quick thinking—dismissing Riley for good patrolling behaviour. He was a super-fledged member of the Slaying team. Go, Riley…go get those demons…all the way over the other side of the cemetery.

But ewww….Spike needed some better imagery. But the blood, and him wanting to know it? Did naughty things to her nervous system when it was supposed to be doing things like pumping adrenaline through her and torpedoing her towards cutting off his head. But she liked his head. It was kinda pretty. Then the view further down bordered on breathtaking. Certainly did warm fuzzy things to her insides.

She watched from behind the bushes as he swiped away the last of his bleeding nose and strode off, admiring the flick of his coat around his legs. Then snorted loudly as he disappeared down a recently dug grave.

“Ow!”

Buffy snuck up beside the gaping hole and laid out along the length of it, watching as Spike got to his feet, brushed the peat from his clothes, and caught sight of her. Before he knew quite what he was doing, they were sharing an amused smile.

“Of all the bloody places to leave a great, gaping hole in the ground.”

“Of all the vampires to fall into it!” Buffy couldn’t tear her eyes away from his, the humour of the situation something she hadn’t shared with Spike since their doomed engagement.

Her smile was so warm that Spike felt a little toasty. He hadn’t even thought about springing out of there yet, too enraptured by the light she was shining down upon him.

Bugger. He couldn’t go starry-eyed over the Slayer again. That way laid worlds of pain and torment. Not to mention broken bones…but then there was the odd spot of hot chocolate from Joyce. With those tiny little marshmallows…bloody good beverage.

Which didn’t mean he couldn’t play with her a bit. He did after all fall into this godforsaken grave topping off a rather violent image of tapping her neck for his own satisfaction.

“Whatcha doin’ here, pet? Thought you’d be all snuggled up to your wonder boy right now. Seeing as how he’s all Commando Slayer these days.”

A slight shadow passed over her features and the smile slipped, allowing anger and irritation to take its place. Good thing too, because she was getting to be all with the sappy feelings and vampire gapage.

“I couldn’t leave you all alone with nothing to slay. I wanted to make sure those knitting needles you had weren’t made of bamboo, in case you accidentally fell on them.”

“You’re just full of the wisecracks, aren’t you?”

Buffy’s grin was back. She loved it when a vamp acknowledged her spontaneous puns.

“You’re lookin’ kinda hungry there, all stuck in a big hole.”

She stretched like a cat, the muscles of her stomach clenching as she rolled to her side and rested her head on her hand, yet supported by her bent elbow so she had a good funnel view down the hole at Spike. Her neck arched bare as she allowed a fingernail to trace up and down its length, reminiscent of the time he was chained in Giles’s bathtub.

And exactly like he’d done then, Spike licked his lips and stared at the pulsing vein in her throat. While she was preening before him, her eyes focused on the stars in the sky, she was startled to feel a wet tongue tracing a line over her flesh.

“Ohhhh,” she moaned in pleased surprise right before Spike bit down with blunt teeth. It felt like every part of her gushed in approval. She quickly became lost in a haze of nasty bitey thoughts as Spike lapped at the shallow bite marks and began to kiss and nibble at her neck.

She was trying to move, maneuver his mouth closer to her lips when she heard the faint sound of her name. Spike’s mouth was furiously active on her throat, his hands hesitantly searching the hem of her top when the thought kicked in that it couldn’t be him calling.

A shocked impulse had Spike sprawled morbidly at the bottom of the grave and Buffy panting her journey back to her feet.

With a spring of vampiric power, he was out of the hole and looming over the Slayer. Well, as much as a kind of short but well-muscled vampire could. And his huff of irritation was certainly making a good show of menace. He spun on his heel, glared evilly at the hole he’d spent the past ten minutes in, and strode hard to his crypt, just barely missing the confrontation that was Riley returned from his quick patrol.

“Hey,” Buffy greeted him guiltily, more than a little aware that he knew she’d already patrolled this section.

“Hey yourself. More vamps that we missed before?” Riley’s face was all with the calm and trusting and Buffy felt her voice seize, frantically trying to think of an excuse for the extra time in the area.

“Er, just thought I sa-heard something…you know, best to check it out.” She nodded decisively twice then began her walk home, not really caring if he followed or not. She so was not interested in four minutes of ‘relaxing’ sex.

Oh, the troubles we bear, thought Buffy as she heard the heavy thump of Riley’s combat boots stomp up behind her. Oh joy!

NEXT~~>

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