Prompt #68: Writer's Choice (Love)

Title: Hope Eternal
Summary: A happy conclusion to season 6 Spuffy. Song!fic.

there’s a pain that sleeps inside
it sleeps with just one eye
and awakens the moment that you leave

Spike’s shoulders slumped as the Slayer beat a hasty retreat from his bed. Scrambling to grab her clothes from where they'd been haphazardly tossed in the throes of passion, she quickly slid into pants, shirt, and shoes before fleeing up the ladder that lead to the upper level of the crypt and out into the night. In her haste to escape the scene of another one of her “mistakes,” Spike noticed that she hadn’t even bothered to try and locate her discarded undergarments.

After the first few times of trying to coax her back into bed, with soft touches and even softer words, he’d finally given up. Now, he just let her run. He may be “love’s bitch” but there was only so much pleading he’d do to keep the girl by his side. Besides, he knew she would be back tomorrow. And if not tomorrow, then the next day. Apparently, he - a soulless demon - was the only one capable of making her feel alive. He’d laugh at the irony if it didn’t hurt so bleeding much.

When he’d goaded her into that brawl in the warehouse district, his only thought had been to give her back some of the taunts and humiliation he’d been made to suffer since being “chipped” by the Initiative. After they’d crashed through one of the doors and into an abandoned building, still trading blow for blow, he’d exhilarated in their dance. He would never in his wildest dreams have expected that it would change.

But then, she’d kissed him.

And that had lead to another kiss, and another, until finally she had shoved him up against a wall and jumped him. Literally. Her toned legs had locked around his waist.

Then he'd heard the sound of his zipper lowering. And before he could figure out what was going on, she had his cock out, her knickers pushed out of the way, and she was sliding home. In his century plus of living, he’d never felt anything like it. The way her slayer muscles enveloped him, squeezing him so tight while she lowered herself down on his length. At the time, he’d figured he’d been dreaming, knocked out by one of her punches or something. Then she’d started to move and he knew. Knew it wasn’t a dream.

He was actually making love to the Slayer.

Well he’d tried to anyway. Make love, that is. But, she’d wanted none of that. Just a cold, hard fuck for his girl, thank you very much... or not. She surely hadn't thanked him. Not the first time. Or the fifth.

The Slayer was too good for that.

And heaven forbid she actually exhibit a bit of tenderness towards him. A soulless demon. Never mind how often he told her that said soulless demon loved her. Never mind how he tried to to show her.

Shoot, did she think he actually liked helping her so-called Scooby friends? Bloody hell no! But, to prove his love, there he was, night after bloody night, attempting to fight their “good fight.”

Anyway, no gentle loving for his slayer. With her, it was all about fists and fangs and claws and teeth. The more it hurt, the bloody better, as far as she was concerned. Like it was his mission to prove that she was in hell or something. And, it wasn't that he minded so much the rough stuff between the sheets. He was a vampire after all. But, for her to think that was all she was worth...it literally broke his undead heart.

But, he wasn’t going to refuse her request. Couldn’t refuse it, to be honest. After so long spent waiting... waiting for that tiny crumb. He’d be a bloody fool to let the opportunity slip away.

After a time, Spike got out of bed. He located her bra and knickers and hid them in his chest with the others. If she kept this up, she’d soon be all out of undergarments to wear, then she’d have to come back. Turning away from the chest, he moved back to the bed and slid beneath the sheets. He wasn’t tired, but he enjoyed basking in the scent of the Slayer after she had gone. If only to remind himself that she had been there in the first place.

though I try to look away
the pain it still remains
only leaving when you’re next to me

The following night, Spike lay in bed, unmoving, as he heard the crypt door creak open and then close. The Slayer. She’d come back. He heard rustling as she moved across the crypt towards the hole in the floor that lead to the lower level. She was trying to be quiet. Why, Spike wasn’t quite sure. She knew he was able to hear every sound she made, right down to her heartbeat.

Then she was climbing down the ladder. He could hear the whisper of clothes as she peeled them off her body piece by delectable piece. The scent of her arousal had his cock stirring to life as he lay naked underneath the silk sheets. Her softly spoken words caused his eyes to open, pinning her in place with his gaze.

“Tell me you love me,” she demanded softly from the other side of the room.

“I love you.”

“Tell me you want me,” she whispered as she sashayed across the floor, making her way towards the bed.

“I want you.”

Then, Buffy surprised him. She crawled up on the bed, straddling him over the sheet. Leaning down, she ran her lips lightly back and forth over his own. Spike growled low in his chest, but made no move to grab her. He wasn’t sure what had come over the Slayer, but he was loath to break the whatever spell she seemed to be under.

She broke the kiss and Spike waited for the violence that was so much a part of their “dance.” Instead, she just gazed down at him, her hazel eyes shining brightly with unshed tears. He stared back, helpless to look away, wanting to ease whatever it was that seemed to be troubling her.

“Love me,” she whispered. Not a demand. More like a plea.

“Oh... Buffy. I do. I will,” he whispered back. He reached for her, guiding her down and then onto her back, rolling with her so that he loomed over her, his upper body covering her but not crushing as he supported his weight on his elbows. He lowered his head and took her bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling lightly. 

Spike kissed her like he had all the time in the world. Hopefully, he had. He prayed that he did anyway. Right now, the Slayer appeared to have pushed aside all her negative thoughts about what she was doing with him and was just allowing herself to feel, to be loved. By him.

do you know that every time you’re near
everybody else seems far away?
so can you come and make them disappear?
make them disappear and we can stay...

In the afterglow of their lovemaking, Spike held Buffy in his arms. It was the first time she had ever let him hold her afterwards and he wanted to weep tears of joy. Instead, he just held her tightly to him, one hand idly running up and down her arm in a soft caress.

“Stay.”

The word, so softly spoken, left his mouth - too late to be called back. His body tensed and his hand stilled on her arm as he waited for her answer. Mentally, he prepared himself for her rejection. After all, it wasn’t like she hadn’t done it before. Repeatedly. So he waited anxiously, as the agony of silence slowly killed him.

She never answered him verbally. But, he felt her nod against his chest. And just like that, the tension seeped out of his body and he allowed his hand to resume its gentle caress up and down her arm.

For just a short while, they were the only two people on the planet... tucked away as they were in the lower level of Spike’s crypt, sequestered beneath the satin sheets and down comforter that made up his bed. No Watcher. No friends. No job. No worries. Just the two of them, basking in the presence of the other. Exchanging soft touches that neither commented upon. Soft touches that grew into something more. But each time, it was slow, unhurried, with none of the violence that marked their previous encounters.

Finally it was too much and they collapsed back against the pillows. Their bodies too sated for more. They rolled towards each other, slight smiles playing across their lips, eyes shining with new awareness.

Surprisingly, Spike was the first to fall asleep. Lulled by the steady thump thump of Buffy’s beating heart, the heat radiating from her body.

Buffy watched him for a minute, staring wistfully down at sharp features that looked boyish in slumber. Her hand reached out, wanting to feel for herself, before she reluctantly pulled away. If she were to touch him, he would no doubt wake, and she couldn’t bear to see the accusation in his gaze when he saw her get up to leave. But, she needed to get home. Especially before Dawn and the others woke. She wasn’t up for twenty questions just yet... if ever.

With her heart in her throat, Buffy slid out of bed, senses alert for any sign that Spike was waking. Breathing a sigh of relief when he did no more than roll over to occupy the warm spot she’d just vacated. A reluctant smile found its way to her lips. Finally she turned away and donned her clothes, then with on last glance at her forbidden lover, she turned and left Spike’s crypt.

so I stand and look around
distracted by the sounds
of everyone and everything I see

Spike sat at the bar inside the Bronze nursing his beer. It had been a week since he had woken up alone in bed, the Slayer evidently having pulled a runner once again. If it hadn’t been for her scent so prevalent upon the sheets and the single sheet of paper with the words “thank you” written on them, Spike would have thought the entire night had been a dream. 

He took another sip of the beer that had long since gone flat, remembering how he’d dressed and paced the confines of his crypt, waiting for the sun to finally set. Nearly singeing himself as the last rays had dipped beyond the horizon in his haste to be away. He’d gone out hunting. Only, his prey had been elusive, and after traversing his third cemetery for a hint of the Slayer’s scent, he’d come to the conclusion that she hadn’t wanted him to find her.

So, he backed off. Gave her the space she apparently needed.

She’d be back eventually... just like she always was.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself, as one day turned into two, and then four... until an entire week had gone by. He’d tried looking for her; the third night he’d broken down and tried to find her, haunting every cemetery that Sunnydale boasted. But there’d been no sign of her. No scent of her either.

It was like she’d bloody well disappeared. Even trips to her house produced no results. The Slayer wasn’t home, and neither Red nor the Bit knew where she’d gotten off to.

Buffy was avoiding him.

Which was why he was sitting in the Bronze, drinking horrible, watered-down American beer and praying she would show... so they could finally talk about “that night.” An hour later, he was still nursing the same beer. He refused to drink himself into oblivion by switching to something stronger because she’d so obviously run from him. The bartender had come over at some point, grumbling under his breath about him hording a primo spot at the rather packed bar but refusing to order more than the single beer, but a quick flash of yellow-tinted irises had the man leaving him alone to wallow in his misery in peace.

and I search through every face
without a single trace
of the person, the person that I need

For what seemed like the millionth time that night, Spike gazed out over the crowd of young kids dancing and socializing. Their accelerated heartbeats, along with some of the more amorous ones’ arousal, permeated the air, providing him with a momentary distraction. He thought longingly of days past when he’d show up at “teen central” looking for an easy meal, and an easy lay. Then, he shook his head, remembering. He bagged it now. At first, it had been the chip that required the necessary adjustment in his diet. But, he knew now if he got the thing out tomorrow, he’d probably still bag it.

For her.

Because it would hurt her if he went back to his killing ways.

do you know that every time you’re near
everybody else seems far away? 
so can you come and make them disappear?
make them disappear and we can stay...

He knew the moment the Slayer walked through the front door of the Bronze. Awareness shot through his entire being, making his demon stand up and take notice, as she entered his “comfort zone.” Sights and sounds faded to white noise as he concentrated on her alone. She was by herself, looking like she didn’t particularly want to be there; her mouth had a slight moue of disgust, her brows furrowed as some buzzed teenager nearly bumped into her. She wasn’t wearing her usual “Bronze” attire either. Actually, she looked like she was about to head out for patrol. Long, lean legs were encased in a pair of jeans and sturdy boots covered her feet. She wore an ordinary sweatshirt, the dark color allowing her to easily blend in with the night. Her short hair was pulled back in matching ponytails secured at the nape on either side of her neck. She looked about twelve; he thought she looked bloody gorgeous. 

Then he really took notice of her features. Her face seemed more drawn than normal, as if she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. And the majority of the times she did. Didn’t she realize that he could help? That he’d do anything for her? If the dark circles under her eyes were any indication, she obviously hadn’t been sleeping much either.

Her eyes scanned the crowd, obviously looking for someone. Jealousy reared its ugly head, and it was all he could do to keep his butt in his seat at the bar, hidden in the shadows. That night – their night – obviously hadn’t meant much to her if she could leave his side and search out his replacement here among the crowd. He watched as she continued to look over the patrons, her gaze pausing over a couple near the back – obviously vampires.  She let out a sigh, not bothering to interrupt their sport, and his eyebrows nearly buried themselves in his hairline. He had half a mind to walk over there and tell her to get on with the business of staking the bastards. But only half a mind. The rest was consumed with watching her... to find out the identity of her secret rendezvous. His jaw clenched, imagining what she'd been up to this past week. Almost missing as her eyes continued their search, her gaze scanning the catwalk, again barely pausing as they lighted on yet another vamp. Then, the corners of her lips turned down and her brow furrowed even deeper.

Spike watched as Buffy, with a look of determination on her face, started making her way deeper into the Bronze. His gaze never left her as she meandered through the club, her stride purposeful, and he silently willed her to break off the search of whoever it was she was determined to find and come towards him instead. He held an unnecessary breath as she appeared to do just that. Her gaze ran down the occupants of the bar before settling on him, still tucked away as he was in the shadows. Like she could actually see him. He could feel his jaw dropping as she quickly wended her way through the crowd to his side.

can you make them disappear? make them disappear...

“Hi,” she greeted softly, now that she was there in front of him, refusing to meet his gaze. Spike was still in awe that it had been him she was actually looking for, so he could barely get out an answering greeting.

She obviously had something to tell him, intent as she'd been on finding him, and knew instinctively that he didn't want to hear what she had to say. Yet, he stayed where he was, well and truly “Love’s Bitch,” his head cocked slightly to one side, while he waited for her to speak. His fingers picked nervously at the label on the bottle of beer he held. Struggling to keep the yearning he felt for her from showing in his eyes. The hope yet certain devastation he knew he was about to suffer. Unconsciously, he held his breath. Waiting for her stake to find its mark and literally end his existence. Waiting for her to say that their night together, their perfect night, had been a mistake. That it was finally over - she could no longer be with him. 

When he could stand her hemming and hawing no longer, he held up his hand, stopping her before she could let lose with the words that would cripple him.

“No, just... don’t!”

Her mouth hung open for a moment, a flash of hurt stole across her face and quickly disappeared. Her mouth clicked shut.

“Think you’ve made your feelings perfectly clear, Slayer. No need to rub salt in the wound. I’ll just be off,” he practically snarled, surging to his feet and depositing his half-empty bottle on the counter, leaving a stunned Slayer standing by the vacated seat as he quickly made his way to the side exit.

So intent on getting away from there, from her, before he thoroughly disgraced himself, he didn’t hear the Slayer dart after him. Failed to feel her until her hand closed around his upper arm, stopping his departure a few short feet from the exit. Head lowered, he stared fixedly at his boots, his jaw clenched and unclenched as he fought back the angry words on the tip of his tongue; he refused to turn around and look at her. Refused to see the pity, the finality of whatever it was the two of them had had, in her expressive gaze.

Then she uttered the one word that made his poets heart sing. And he twisted abruptly, unsure if he'd heard right.

“Stay.”

Oblivious to anyone else, Spike pulled Buffy to him in a bone-crushing hug. Somewhere in his addled brain, he realized he was probably holding her too tight, but since she was voicing no complaints, he refused to slacken his grip one whit. He didn’t want to take the chance of her changing her mind, or that somehow he was dreaming again.

Then he heard her mumble something against his chest.

Spike.

He reluctantly loosened his hold and waited...

What he saw reflected in her eyes filled him with hope. And as the band continued playing its set and the kids continued to dance, Spike leaned down and kissed her.

Prompt #65: Bad

Title: Road to Discovery
Summary: Takes place in an A/U season 6. Spike and Buffy have "done the deed" but haven't split yet. This is just a random off-screen scene.

From the first time he’d seen her swaying to the music’s beat inside the Bronze, he’d had his suspicions. He loved the dance, but with her it had been different.

When he’d formed an unlikely alliance with her to defeat Angelus, it had set the stage. Finally culminating in his sire casting him aside, blaming him because the Slayer somehow tainted his very existence.

Then he’d been defanged – literally. And slowly, he’d evolved. He blamed the Slayer and her meddlesome friends. Her mother, too, for that matter. Joyce had had a way about her. Willing to treat him like a man, even though he was not. Lending a sympathetic ear to the woes of his unlife.

‘Slayer would do good to follow her mum’s example.’

He wasn’t sure at what point his obsession turned to love.

Even now, he could still remember the horror he felt that it wasn’t hate motivating him in his dealings with the Slayer, but the emotion that been reserved just for his sire, his savior. It had angered him… and sickened him. He’d wanted to rage, to tear into flesh to prove to himself, to everyone that he was a demon.

Demons did not love slayers.

Ever.

But somewhere along the line, his inner William had grown a pair and had brought the demon to heel. Leaving him ready to bare his belly for a good rub down.

Too bad she just wouldn’t see. Or couldn’t see.

Angelus had done a number on her. Having her friends ripping her out of heaven hadn’t helped either.

Poor girl thought she was in hell.

And who better to fuck her than the Devil’s spawn.

Spike shook himself and finished his mug of blood. It was late.

Which meant the Slayer would be showing up soon.

A little slap and tickle before calling it a night.

~*~*~*~*~

The bloody bitch had done it again. Took off like a thief in the night while he dozed, sated from another marathon session of raunchy sex. Damn her!

Frustrated, he shoved the covers off his naked body and got out of bed, pausing only long enough to pull on his jeans before making his way to the upper level of the crypt for some blood.

Spike barely withheld the shudder as he swallowed the pig’s blood. It was times like now that made him wonder why he’d yet to bite her and take a bit of her blood. Heal his body better than the non-human slop he’d been reduced to drinking. He could do it. Easily in fact, given that the chip no longer registered her human. And it would serve her right. For far too long she’d underestimated him. Belittled him to the point where he’d given serious thought to ending his existence.

Once Spike had one hunger appeased, the other came rushing to the fore. Letting his demon spring forth, he went on a rampage in his crypt. He’d later regret taking his anger out on his own things, but he was pissed off and a violent outburst was just what he needed at that moment to calm down. Damn her! Why did she keep doing this to him? Soulless demon, true. But, he was trying to be a better man for her. What more did he have to do to prove himself to her? 

His chair had just bounced off the crypt wall – the distinct sounds of wood breaking were pleasing to his demon ears – when he felt her. The Slayer was close. Probably right outside the door. Sure enough, it sprang open, announcing her presence. She didn’t say anything to him, just started stripping as she made her way over to him.

Like she hadn’t walked out on him not a few hours ago.

Spike tried to resist her, he really did. He wanted nothing more than to turn his back and dismiss her out of hand. But the sight of her naked body as it was slowly revealed was more than his tortured eyes could bear, and his hand lifted of its own accord to lightly caress her bare arm. 

She’d never come to him before during daylight hours.

She didn’t want tender. Then again, she never wanted tender. Probably felt she wasn’t good enough for it.

Or, that he wasn’t.

Fuck it. 

Gripping her bare arms, he swung her around and shoved her back against the wall. The Slayer never uttered a sound as her bare back slammed into the unyielding stone surface. There was no sparkle in her eyes, no eagerness for their joining, as he unbuckled his belt, lowered the zipper on his jeans, and pushed the material down around his hips, just far enough to release his cock. If not for the distinctive smell of lust permeating her body, he’d have to wonder why she was even here. Not wanting to see her face, devoid of expression, he turned her around and practically mashed it into the wall. Her hands prevented any real damage being done, catching herself before her nose was rearranged.

Her ass stuck out invitingly, or as close to an invitation as he’d likely ever get, so he stepped in close and rammed his way home. No foreplay. Hardly any touching between them.

Still smarting from her earlier rejection, he gripped her shoulders with both hands hard enough that his nails drew blood, and proceeded to fuck her like the demon he was. For the first time, using her body like she’d always claimed to use his. This time it was about him, what he wanted.

She was his convenience. A willing hole to place his dick until his inner demons were exorcised.

Soulless demon. Don’t know how to love. You’re beneath me.

All the taunts he’d put up with over the last few years.

His demon raged that the Slayer could so torment him. It wanted to draw blood, as surely as his own was spilt each time she deemed to pay him a visit.

It didn’t take long for him to come. Not with the devil riding him and her taunts ringing in his ears – an angry fuck was often a fast one. With nothing more gained than his body’s release.

He refused to touch her when he was finished. Slipping soundlessly from her body, Spike stepped back, pulled up his jeans and refastened them around his hips. He left her there unsatisfied – panting harshly and leaning heavily against the wall. If she wanted someone to just fuck her, he could accommodate. It killed him to walk away, but he did. Moving towards the hole in the floor that allowed him to seek refuge in the lower level of his home.

Maybe now she’d realize that there could be more to their relationship than what she thought they had... that, in fact, there already was. If she'd just open her bloody eyes and see. 

She didn’t come after him, ranting and raving, demanding he finish her off. But then, he hadn’t expected her to. He listened, hands fisted tightly enough that his fingernails dug into his palm, as she slowly dressed and quietly left the crypt. 

The quiet click of the door closing was overly loud in his ears.

The tears he’d refused to shed in her presence falling silently from his own tormented eyes.

The bed stood unused throughout the remainder of the night and the rest of the day. Spike refused to sleep in it, instead collapsing in one of the chairs not to it.

Anguished over what he had done.

~*~*~*~*~

She avoided him for a week.

When she did show up, no mention was made of the last time she had been there. Spike, for his part, did everything in his power to make it for his behavior. He denied himself release until she had screamed her pleasure time and again. Finally joining her that last time.

He shouted his love for her as his orgasm washed over him, but only in his mind. The only thing the Slayer heard was the sound of her own release echoing against the walls.

She did something unexpected that night. Something that shocked Spike to the core.

She stayed for a while.

Not long. Just long enough that Spike felt like he’d made some type of progress. She didn’t let him hold her, but the fact that she remained in bed with him more than made up for it.

Neither spoke, each lost in their own thoughts.

A few minutes later, Spike felt her stir, and he steeled himself.

She was going to leave.

However, before she got out of bed, she leaned over and lightly brushed her lips across his – once, twice.

~*~*~*~*~

Wrapping his arms around her middle to keep her in place, his eyes locked with hers.

“Don’t go.”

The whispered words left his lips unintentionally, and Spike wished more than anything that he could call them back. 

He watched the indecision play over her face. How her need battled against her sense of right and wrong. How she bit her bottom lip as she debated. Finally nodding her head in agreement.

Relief rushed through him.

She was going to stay with him. He was so ecstatic, he crushed her body to his in an enthusiastic hug, uncaring in the least the loss of every cool point he’d acquired over the century.

He’d happily give them up if it meant she wasn’t going to leave.

Prompt: Proposition

Title: Coming Home
Summary: Takes place in an A/U season 6.

“No, look at me! I ... love you. You're all I bloody think about. Dream about. You're in my gut ... my throat ... I'm drowning in you, Summers, I'm drowning in you.”

I remember the words like it happened yesterday. I had been handcuffed and helpless, filled with a sense of dread that I would have to stake Spike because he no longer had the chip in his head.

A voice interrupts my thoughts, and I punch the proper buttons on the cash register as an older gentleman orders the latest and greatest from the Doublemeat Palace. My mind isn’t on him though. It’s on a vamp that can get my heart racing with just one look… though I will deny it with my last breath. My affected smile slips at the reminder. My eyes glaze over in remembrance and I zone out.

Long enough that the man has to wave a hand in my face to get my attention, and a coworker to nudge me back to reality. This reality. No more heaven. No more peace. Just a hell of my friends’ own making.

A slight shake, fake Barbie smile back in place, and I firmly bury the hell that is my existence and finish up the man’s order. Take his money and give him his change. 

“Welcome to the Doublemeat Palace. What can I get you?” And so the monotony continues with the next customer and then the next. 

Again my mind drifts… 

“You still don't believe. Still don't think I mean it. You want proof, huh? How's this? I'm gonna kill Drusilla for you.” 

‘Do it! Do it!’ 

The words reverberated in my head, struggling to get out. But all he saw at the time was the negative shake of my head. The disgust on my face. 

I wonder sometimes if he knew. If Harmony hadn’t shown up, I think I might have caved. Had him kill the love of his unlife, his sire. 

Getting Willow to do the disinvite spell probably saved me from a downward spiral, like the one I’m in now. The small rift with my mother over shutting Spike out my life and our home, I took to my grave.

I catch myself before I lose my composure, sniff and blink back the sudden tears, driving back that particular memory and locking it safely away. There is nothing worse than trying to explain your overly-emotional state to your boss. Besides, it isn’t like I can come right out and say that I’m still adjusting to being back among the living and dealing with some issues. 

Being institutionalized once was enough.

Another customer and I’m back on track, sliding back into the rote order-taking. A few minutes later and the small crowd disperses to plastic seats and cheap Formica tabletops to scarf down their unhealthy dinners. My own stomach rumbles in anticipation of food, but I send a stern reminder to my brain that anything I ingest will only come right back up. I find I can hardly keep anything down these days.

I hear my name being called, and I turn to see Harold, our new shift manager, gesture me over.

‘Oh, goodie, a new piece of equipment to learn.’ 

“Hey, Buffy, let me show you…” 

I tune him out before he can finish his sentence, though I seem attentive enough, allowing someone to take over my register as I follow docilely behind the man. He drones on and on, his voice far more animated than the situation allows. If I had it in me, I would roll my eyes. Rocket science, this is not. And if things get confusing, the oh-so-convenient directions posted by the buttons will help clue me in. He walks away, confident in his managerial role, and I begin to push the sequence of buttons like the good little employee I am. No one waits for onion rings, not on my watch. 

I can practically see Spike’s smirk, which leads me back to thoughts of him. Knowing it’s no use, I pick a happier memory this time. Another secret. Again, one I took to my grave.

I wonder what he would say if I told him the last memory I had before dying was the image of his face when I invited him back in. 

I fade back in to see Harold looking at me expectantly. I give him a nod, then glance over to the clock. Break time – I can escape for thirty minutes. Even if it is only to the alley behind the restaurant. Any place is better than this; just take me away from the cloying smell of aged oil and fried foods.

Alone in the darkness, I don’t worry about being seen. No one ever comes out here. Here it’s safe to let down my guard, and when I do, it’s like a thousand questions run through my head simultaneously. Questions I dare not voice aloud.

And buried beneath the confusion, hopelessness, and disbelief, is an anger so deep it scares me with its intensity. Anger towards Willow, and Xander. And even, god, and even Tara. Tara, who should have known better. They all go blithely about their business, confident in their accomplishments. While I… while I… despair…

Why did my friends do it? Why did they think I was rotting away in some hell when all I ever did with my life was protect the people around me, along with the rest of the world?  

God, I want to go back. The peace I felt, I can’t describe it other than to say it was perfect nothingness. No duty. No calling. No heartache and pain. No right or wrong… good or bad. Just calm acceptance. An unending rest… from everything.

I slide down the wall until I’m sitting on the ground, pulling my knees up so I have some place to rest my chin. I don’t feel the cold seeping into my butt through the polyester monkey suit I have to wear. 

A minute later, I hear him approach.

Another, and I’ve got my pants hanging off one ankle, my back pressed up against the side of the building. Spike’s cock buried deep inside me.

Between the crates and the duster wrapped around us, I’m shielded from anyone that might wander past.

His breath is cool against my neck. Soft little pants as he thrusts inside me. Much like I’m doing.

These encounters never last long. Already I can feel his fingers digging into my ass as his thrusts get stronger, more erratic. 

He says nothing and neither do I.

The pressure continues to build. My legs tighten about Spike’s waist. He recognizes the signal and lets himself go.

My back scrapes against the wall. Harder and harder.

I barely feel one of his hands leave off my ass and yank my shirt away from my neck.

His fangs are like pure bliss. I come hard, biting my own lip to stifle my scream. I’m not sure what actually does it for me, the bite or that growly moan thing he does as I squeeze him tight and milk him dry. It resonates deep inside, and damned if it doesn’t set me off again.

Which sets him off again. This time it’s more of a purr.

Getting dressed is awkward, but I’m used to it. Used to his eyes that follow my every move as I bend down and step back into my pants, fix my shirt, and straighten my hair. Thank god for the hat that will hide the tangled mess it’s become.

I don’t look at him as I walk away. If I did, if I looked in his eyes and saw the love shining within their depths, I’d take him up on his offer. His proposition. 

“Come away with me. Just you and the Bit. Let me take care of you, take care of both of you. Please, Buffy… Slayer…” 

I want to. I want to so bad it hurts.

I pause at the entrance. Look back and he’s still standing there. Staring at me.

My hand grips the handle so hard it snaps off.

“Buffy?” 

He takes a step forward, seeing the yes in my eyes. The yes I can’t hide.

Why can’t I hide from him? 

I open the door to try and get away from him, but he’s there before I’m able. Then he’s kissing me. A kiss unlike any I’ve ever experienced.

And I cave.

I lean into him. My hands snake their way around his neck and pull him closer. Clinging to him like a lifeline.

“We’ll go away tonight. Right now,” he tells me between kisses. “Buffy… oh, love…” 

I soak up each endearment, each tender caress.

Then his hand slips into mine and he’s pulling me away. Away from minimum wage jobs and unpaid bills. Away from my friends and their betrayal.

It’s just me, and Spike, and Dawn – huddled together on the front seat of his car as we leave Sunnydale, and all of its heartache, behind.

Prompt: Afterglow

Title: Halloween Done Right (Epilogue of sorts)
Summary: Post-NFA.

“I think we were right about… here. Don’t you think?” 

The husky whisper in her ear was distracting enough, but the fingers teasing her slit nearly sent her over the edge.

“Spike… the door…” she panted. Lying there on her side, Spike snuggled against her backside, her eyes were glued to where her sister and best friend had just exited minutes ago. 

“Doubt the Whelp or the Bit are gonna be back anytime soon,” Spike replied, then nibbled on her ear lobe. Smirking around the flesh in his mouth when the Slayer moaned and bucked against his fingers. “Besides,” he added, having released her ear to trail kisses down her neck, “I’d hear them if they came back. Vamp senses, remember?” 

Buffy mumbled out what she thought was her assent. Spike had exchanged his fingers for his dick and was slowly pushing his way inside. Stretching her in the most wonderful of ways. Her leg was lifted and draped over his, opening her up further. 

“Oh…” 

“Feel good, luv?” 

Buffy could only nod, unable to speak. There were tears in her eyes as Spike thrust inside her with slow, measured strokes, peppering her shoulder with kisses in between whispered words of love and devotion. It had never been like this between them – tenderness and love.

So much love her heart nearly burst with it.

She needed to tell him… again. Struggled around the feelings Spike was evoking to get the words out. 

“I… I love you too, Spike. So much…” 

“Buffy…”

They climaxed embarrassingly quickly, something they both laughed about afterwards. Another first for them – the laughter.

Snuggled together on the floor in front of the fire – Spike had taken a moment to stoke the dying flames to ward off the chill – the two basked in the afterglow. They talked of nonsensical things: Buffy’s new home in London, Dawn, Spike’s propensity for being a white hat, no matter how much he might deny it.

All the while they touched and caressed one another, hardly believing that they were together again.

Prompt: Whisper

Title: Disappear
Summary: Takes place in an A/U season 6. A continuation of Coming Home.

The slight weight of Spike’s arm around my shoulder feels good. I snuggle closer and his grip tightens momentarily in what could have passed for a hug. His lips brush against my temple and I let out a sigh.

“Not long now, luv,” he whispers to me, his tone apologetic. 

I remain quiet, give a slight jerk of my head that I heard him. Another squeeze, then he’s concentrating on the road again. I close my eyes and let the rumble of the engine and the soft strains of classical music wash over me. I’m too tired to figure out why Spike has that particular station programmed in his radio. 

I must have dozed off because the next thing I know, Spike is shaking me awake. 

“Sorry to wake you, pet. I’ve got us a room. Wake up Little Sis, and let’s get you settled inside.” 

Inside the room, he leads me straight to the bed furthest from the door and pulls back the covers, motioning for me and Dawn. We take off only our shoes before falling wearily into bed. 

“What about…” You, I want to say as he settles the blankets around my shoulders. 

“Got a few things to see to first while it’s still dark out.” 

“Oh.” 

I don’t ask what and he doesn’t tell me. He pauses only long enough to ensure that Dawn has gone back to sleep before he slips from the room. 

I lay there on my back in the wake of his leaving, unable to do the same. I’m exhausted and want nothing more than to sink back into that blessed state of unconsciousness, but I can’t.

With Spike gone, the slayer in me has come forward and takes over the duty of protecting Dawn. I hate it… this reminder of what I am. I want Spike back. With him I can forget. With him I can be just Buffy. 

Two hours go by before he returns. I know this because I spend the time staring at the bedside clock, watching the digital readout broadcast the minutes of his departure. 

“You’re supposed to be sleeping, luv,” he tells me. His eyes are filled with concern as he sets several nondescript bags on the dresser and walks towards me. He doesn’t sit down next to me, instead choosing to sit across from me on the second bed. 

“I couldn’t.” 

He nods as if he understands, gives me a sort of half-smile.

Neither of us looks away for the space of several minutes. 

Finally, he pulls something from his pocket and hands it to me. “Here. Put this on.” 

Our hands touch as I take the bracelet from him. My eyes shift from him to it and back to him. When they do, there’s a question on my face. 

“It’s charmed,” he tells me. “Prevents Red from finding us with her mojo.” He pulls back the sleeve of his duster to show me the one he’s wearing, then his hand snakes into his pocket and he pulls out another one. For Dawn, I’m assuming. 

I take that one too, and turn over to secure it to Dawn’s wrist; she never stirs. I turn back and hold out my hand with the bracelet, silently asking Spike to put mine on. 

The relief I feel once it’s secure is unimaginable. In the back of mind, I’d wondered how far we’d get before Willow found us.

Spike stands when he’s through and I can’t help watching as he takes off his duster and sets it aside. Shirt and shoes follow, leaving him in nothing but his jeans. He eyes the bathroom longingly, but something decides him against it – probably worries about waking Dawn – and he returns to the second bed and slips beneath the covers.

I last ten minutes before I’m out of the bed I’m sharing with Dawn and stripping out of my Doublemeat Palace uniform. Clad in only a chemise and underwear I climb in next to Spike. He settles the blankets around us both as I snuggle closer. 

My eyes close and I succumb to my exhaustion.

~*~*~*~*~ 

It’s been a long time since I’ve slept with someone; it’s the only reason I can think of as to why I awake not more than an hour later. The digital readout mocks my inability to sleep and I roll over, wanting nothing more than to bury my face in Spike’s chest and go back to sleep. Needing to block out the overly bright green that informs me it’s far too early to be up yet.

Spike’s slight hiss tells me he’s not asleep and it suddenly dawns on me as to what had been pressing against my backside. Only now it was digging into my stomach.

A bolt of lust causes my body to shudder and I sneak a peak at Spike from beneath my lashes. 

His eyes are squeezed shut, his jaw clenched to keep from voicing his pain – he’s a picture of abject misery.

“Spike?” 

I feel a shudder go through him as I softly call his name. His eyes pin me in place when they snap open and the breath rushes out of me.

It matters naught that Dawn is in the room and sleeping on the other bed as my hands find the fastenings of his jeans and start to undo the buttons. He puts up a token protest, then stops altogether when my hand closes around his dick. One hand pumps his shaft and I use the other to push my panties down and off my hips.

Spike takes over when I grip his cock and try to fuck myself onto him. My panties, trapped somewhere around my knees, rip beneath the pressure Spike exerts. Then I’m rolled to my back and Spike settles himself between my legs.

A quick glance at Dawn reveals the girl still slumbering on, oblivious to our activities.

I bite my lip and cant my hips upwards as Spike finds my opening and pushes his way home. My hands slide down his back and beneath his jeans to grip his ass and pull him closer… deeper. He hits that place inside me and I see stars. My muscles contract around him and I can see on his face what it does to him. How good it feels.

The headboard keeps us from letting go, and we have to contend with shallow thrust and slow movements. And we do for a time.

Until it becomes torture for us both.

Somehow we make it quietly to the floor on the far side of the bed… away from Dawn. I end up in Spike’s lap. The contrast between bare skin and denim feels different, but I go with the flow. Especially with Spike’s hands gripping my waist and guiding my movements. Up and down, again and again. The sound of our lovemaking is muffled by the denim stuck around his thighs. 

My mouth opens on a soundless pant.

“Gonna come,” I mouth. 

His face shifts, leaving me staring at his demon and my head falls back, teasing him with the promise of my blood. I forget that he’s able to hurt me and it’s not until his fangs slice into my throat and I’m coming so hard it robs me of breath that I remember.

He bucks up into me once, twice. On the third I feel the evidence of his orgasm coat my insides.

I keep moving until I feel his hands go slack and the tension eases out of his body.

When he tries to withdraw his fangs, I stop him. There’s pain, but it pales in comparison to the contentment I feel. The feeling of oneness I have with Spike in this moment.

I’m reluctant to let it end.

Spike apparently agrees with me because he stops trying to get away. Instead, his arms wrap around my back and hold me close. 

We stay like that until I begin to shiver from the cold. 

He helps me to my feet and directs me to the bathroom, taking a minute to pull up his pants before grabbing one of the bags and following. My eyes widen comically as he sets out shampoo, conditioner, and body wash – the expensive kind – on the counter. I’ve not had a luxury like that in… actually, I can’t remember the last time I was able to indulge in something so frivolous as designer toiletries.

Tears come unbidden, which I hastily wipe away as Spike’s back is turned adjusting the shower taps.

“Come on, luv. You’ll feel better after a shower.” 

He draws my camisole over my head and directs me under the water. Surprisingly, he doesn’t climb in after me.

The shampoo bottle appears from behind the shower curtain and I snatch it out of his hands with girly delight. I wash my hair three times before I feel clean. The conditioner is next… then the shower gel. 

When I turn off the water and pull back the curtain, Spike is waiting there with a towel.

“I’ve got a change of clothes for you. No nightgown, though. Sorry.” 

I eye the items sitting atop the toilet seat lid and smile my thanks. I don’t bother asking how he knows my size.

The door clicks shut and I’m left alone to get dressed.

~*~*~*~*~ 

I come out of the bathroom and see that Spike has not been idle. The bed we were in is remade and there’s no trace of my uniform or shredded underwear. He has a set of clothes in his hand and a bottle of… 

“Hair dye?” My voice is unusually loud, forgetting for a moment that Dawn is still sleeping. 

He shrugs. “Need a proper disguise now, don’t I?” 

“I… I guess… but…” 

“I can always bleach it back once we get where we’re going.” 

“I… you need any help?” 

He smiles and I smile back.

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike emerges from the bathroom some time later and I gape in astonishment. He’s left the eighties behind and seems to have embraced the here and now. Black and red is gone, and in its place is something… different.

“It’s only for the time being,” he grumbles and I cough to hide my smile. Obviously he is less than pleased. “Need to wake Niblet up. We’ve got a train to catch in a few hours.” 

I finally break down and ask him where we are. 

“Los Angeles.” At my startled look he explains. “Only place that has a warlock strong enough to keep Red from finding us. Plus, I’ve got us some identification… Had a demon that owed me a favor.” 

I digest that bit of information. “Ok.” Besides, I don’t really care. It’s obvious we’re not staying here. This is Angel’s town.

I walk over to the bed and wake Dawn as Spike putters around the room picking up stuff, and generally hiding our tracks. I usher her to the bathroom for a quick shower; Spike hands her a change of clothes just before she slips inside and shuts the door.

Some time later we leave the room and LA behind, with none the wiser to our presence. As the sun begins to rise, we slip inside our cabin, pull the shades and settle into our seats.

Spike still hasn’t told us where we’re going. Dawn views it as an adventure. Me, I’m just happy to be going anywhere but here. Or should I say, anywhere but LA and Sunnydale?

The train whistle screams our departure; a faint “all aboard” rings out several cars ahead of us. 

With only the clothes on our back and the wad of cash Spike has tucked away in his front pants pocket, we leave our old life behind.

The only reminder the bracelets we all wear.

Prompt: Erection

Title: Country Road
Summary: Takes place in an A/U season 6. A continuation of Coming Home & Disappear.

With a few dollars tucked in my pockets, I leave our private cabin and head towards the cafeteria car. Dawn is hungry, and I know I should probably eat something myself.

They have an assortment of breakfast pastries and I buy several, along with plenty of orange juice. I don’t know what provisions Spike’s made for himself, and I’ll need the extra boost if I end up becoming a temporary donor. 

Juggling everything I held in my hands to just one was too difficult, so I end up knocking on the door with my foot.

“Who is it?” 

“It’s me, Dawnie. Let me in.” 

The door opens and Dawn’s gaze is held captive by the pastries and juice. Spike barely stirs from his place on the drop down cot as I enter and Dawn shuts the door. I set breakfast down on the table and my eyes widen in shock at the slayer-like speed Dawn exhibits snatching a cinnamon twist and a bottle of orange juice. She gives me a smug look and my heart nearly stops. 

‘Please, God, don’t let her be… Please…’ 

I feel myself start to hyperventilate just imagining Dawn as a slayer, and I take several calming breaths. I can’t panic now.

“If you want the cinnamon twist, you can have it.” 

I blink and glance her way. She’s holding out the doughnut; there’s a distinct hole where she’s taken a bite. The look on her face shocks me back to the here and now and I rush to reassure her that no, I don’t want it, for her to go ahead and eat it. She still seems uncertain, like… I don’t know. Like her taking that particular pastry will threaten whatever balance we’ve come to find since leaving Sunnydale.

I’m not sure what to do to make things right, other than to grab a cream-filled donut and take a bite. I swallow around the lump that’s still in my throat, but manage to get it down. Surprisingly enough, it tastes good, and it’s not long before I take another bite, and then another. I don’t stop until it’s gone and I’m licking my fingers clean. 

“Guess you were pretty hungry, huh?” 

“I guess so.” I swipe another and a bottle of juice and join Dawn on the couch. The mood seems to lighten as we sit there and eat our breakfast. We can’t look outside the window because of the sun, but the gentle rumble of the train assures me that we’ve left California far behind.

With nothing left to do once breakfast is finished, both Dawn and I grow restless.

~*~*~*~*~ 

If I had been thinking, I probably would have woken Spike and told him that we were going to take a stroll through the cabins, stretch our legs and get a breath of fresh air. I didn’t see the problem; the only thing I had to worry about was getting my toes trampled by the kids running up and down the aisles. 

What I didn’t count on was a tired and cranky possessive vampire. Who, even without being dressed in his traditional Big Bad attire, still manages to exude deadly intent. He prowls up the car, somehow managing to avoid the sunlight streaming in through several of the windows.

Spike sees me through the tiny windows on the doors separating the two cars and his body instantly relaxes. He steps through the connecting doors and the last few steps he takes to reach me turn into a swagger. 

“Out for a stroll, luv?” he asks for the benefit of those in the car. His voice drips with solicitous concern, and I feel instantly guilty. I’ve scared him. His arms wrap around me and his lips brush against my forehead… but I feel the slight tremor that goes through his body. 

“You were sleeping,” I tell him quietly. “I didn’t want to wake you.” 

He turns us around and we walk back towards our cabin. His arm settles around my shoulder and it just feels… right. Comfortable.

I feel safe.

I’m vaguely aware of Dawn walking behind us, chatting animatedly about the train, the view. Spike responds like he always does to her teenage babbling, a mixture of big brother tolerance and teasing. 

All the way back to our cabin they are like that.

It’s only once Dawn asks where we’re going does Spike lose his carefree attitude. I didn’t think he would answer her; he’s said nothing thus far. Then again, it’s not like we’ve bothered to ask him. 

“Train stops in New York,” he tells us once we’re locked away inside our cabin. “But, we’re getting off before then… just in case.” 

He’s got a point. Though the tickets were bought anonymously enough, our destination is clear. Getting off the train before we reach the end will only help us disappear. If someone were to come after us, they will most likely assume that we would stay on the train until the very end.

“Where?” I finally break down and ask him.

“Figured we’d get somewhere near the Appalachians. Prolly near West Virginia.” 

“West Virginia?” 

“We can get lost in the mountains for awhile. It’s not heavily populated, and people tend to keep to themselves. Don’t ask a lot of questions…” 

“Alright. If that’s what you think is best.” 

“We don’t have to stay too long,” he tells me. “Just until I can find something more permanent.” 

“It’s fine, Spike. Whatever you think is best.” 

It was the right thing to say, because he sits a little straighter in his seat. Like I’ve given him back that thing he’s lost since being chipped. Respect. Respect and confidence in his own abilities. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

We sneak off the train under cover of darkness. Spike doesn’t want anyone to notice our leaving. Thankfully, Dawn seems to understand and keeps quiet, following Spike’s instruction without question. We stick to the shadows long after the train has left, following the trail on the edge of the woods. 

In the distance, a wooden sign lit by a single spotlight proclaims a vacancy at a rundown motel. I tap Spike’s shoulder and point.

He follows my finger and nods, tells us he’ll be back shortly then takes off in the direction of the motel.

Dawn and I huddle together as Spike disappears from sight. It’s cold and there’s snow on the ground; our light jackets were fine for California, but are no match against such severe weather. Thankfully Spike is back in a matter of minutes, dangling the keys to our room in his hand, and we hurry to escape the cold.   

Spike turns the heat on as we step inside and shut the door. It’s almost as cold inside the room as it is outside, and both Dawn and I dive for the single queen-sized bed and snuggle beneath the covers.

“Man at the counter says there’s a store a few blocks away. I can pick us up a few things… tide us over until tomorrow night.” 

“Some thermal underwear… and an electric blanket,” Dawn mumbles from beneath the covers. “Man, it’s cold!” 

“Did you get that?” I ask.

“Thermals and an electric blanket. Check. Anything else?”

He looks at me and I shrug. I can’t think of anything off the top of my head. 

“Some cards, puzzles… oh… hey, how about Monopoly?” Dawn’s head appears from beneath the covers. She’s on a roll now, forcing Spike to grab the pad and pencil off the nightstand to jot every down.

“Anything else, Niblet?” Spike’s brow is arched and he’s waiting with pencil poised.

“Chocolate… potato chips… soda.” 

I can’t help it; I start laughing. Clearly Spike hadn’t been expecting her to ask for anything else. He takes it in stride though, adding the items to the list.

“What about you, Buffy? Anything you need?” 

You. Holding me, I want to say. Instead I shake my head, tell him to hurry back. 

He’s back inside an hour. I get out of bed and open the door for him. It’s snowing again and flakes are clinging to his hair and jacket. His arms are laden down with bags and I just shake my head. He’s obviously bought everything on the list and then some.

Dawn squeals in delight and jumps out of bed as Spike drops the packages on the dresser. She gets everything dumped out of the bags on top of the quilt before I can shut the door. Her hands close around a pair of flannel pajamas and matching slippers. Spike is the recipient of a hug and a kiss on the cheek before she skips off to the bathroom.

I rifle through what Spike’s bought as Dawn locks the door and cuts on the water.

Spike pounces while my back is turned.

He lands on top of me; his lips find mine unerringly. His erection presses into my belly, and I wrap my legs around his back. He thrusts against me and I want nothing more than to have him inside me, but Dawn is in the other room and can come out at any time.

“Spike… I…” I gasp out between kisses. 

His lips move to my throat; his growls raise goose bumps on my flesh. I don’t feel his hand inside my pants until his fingers push inside me. I lift my hips, taking him in deeper. Then I’m moving, bucking against his hand as he fucks me with his fingers.

“Spike…” 

“Shhhh… I got you,” he whispers against my ear. His hands pump inside me faster, and just when I’m about to come, I feel his fangs scrape along my throat.

“Please…” 

I feel the sting, feel him draw my blood into his mouth, hear his purr of pleasure. His hand doesn’t let up on its assault.

I bite his shoulder to stifle my cry of completion. Spike’s erection is digging into my thigh. He’s thrusting against me and moaning and I know he’s coming too.

I collapse back onto the mattress, sated. Spike settles next to me, nuzzling my neck; his fingers slide from my pussy and I feel their loss distinctly. He lifts his head and proceeds to lick his fingers clean. I watch mesmerized; I’ve never seen someone take such pleasure in that one act. It makes me hot. And wet. Well, wetter.

I want him again. My pussy… throbs. That’s the only way I can think to describe it. 

I stay where I am though. Flat on my back and breathing heavily.

The sound of running water and my sister’s singing keep me from taking what I want. 

For now, I’m content to lie next to Spike, his arms wrapped around me. Holding me close, like he’ll never let me go.

Prompt: Lips

Title: Time Goes By
Summary: Takes place in an A/U season 6. A continuation of Coming Home, Disappear, & Country Road.

I lift my hand in farewell as Dawn turns at the end of our walkway. She smiles, something I’ve not seen until recently. 

Until Spike swept us from Sunnydale in the dead of night. 

She walks off, shoulders hunched to ward off the chill. Cold and snow are two things us California girls have yet to get used to. Everything else? Well, I think she and I have managed to settle in just fine. 

It’s different here. One would think that with such a small town, everyone would be in everyone else’s business. But, it’s not like that. Not really. Here, people tend to stick to themselves. Oh, no one is outright rude – we smile as we pass each other on the street or in the town’s single grocery store. There’s just no questions asked; no one butts into your personal lives. 

I close the door and feel Spike press up against my back. We have the house to ourselves for six hours while Dawn is away at school. His arms slide around my waist and draw me back against his chest and I lean into him, resting my head against his shoulder. 

It – this – it feels good. Right. Here in his arms, nothing can get to us. To me.

“Come back to bed, luv. It’s still early yet,” he whispers in my ear. I nod and allow him to pull me back to our room. To our bed. The one I share with him each night, ever since we’ve moved into the mobile home. 

Dawn put up no fuss at the time, no squeals of delight that Spike and I are together. Together together. Just gave me a slight smile, eyes wise beyond their years, before walking to the smaller of the two bedrooms to look over the sparse furnishings.

I’ve added stuff over the last few months, things to make the place more personal. More ours. Spike has an unending supply of wealth, it seems. I don’t ask were he gets the money from, and he doesn’t volunteer. And there’s been no sudden rash of crime since we’ve landed here in the middle of nowhere, which leads me to believe he’s had it from before. 

I have to admit, it’s nice not to have to worry about things like money and food, and having to get a job. Spike takes care of us.

My nightshirt, the one I’d thrown on hastily when the alarm clock went off and I needed to go rouse Dawn for school, is drawn over my head, leaving me bare to my lover’s gaze. I put up no protest as I’m swept into his arms and deposited on the bed. 

His borrowed heat is rapidly dissipating, and his body, when it settles atop mine, forces a small gasp from my lips.

Lips he eagerly claims. 

I can’t help the moan as his tongue slides into my mouth. The man can kiss, there’s no doubt about it. Then there’s that subtle pre-fuck fuck he does with his body where he rubs his dick against my thigh or stomach as he kisses me senseless.

When I feel like I’m about to pass out from lack of oxygen, his lips leave mine for other places. Loving licks and whisper-soft kisses seem to mark every inch of my body until I’m practically vibrating with need.

Spike is like this a lot now, building the flames from simmer to boil. Slow and tender. His touch reverent, rather than grasping.

Not to say that we don’t do that anymore – hard and fast, violent and bloody. He is a vampire and I’m… I was the Slayer. 

It’s just, he likes this too. Likes being a man for me. For him.

“Please,” I whisper into the silence, having felt his face hover over my mound.

A sigh leaves my lips at the first touch of his tongue.

Prompt: Voyeur

Title: Not Alone
Summary: Takes place in an A/U season 6. A continuation of Coming Home, Disappear, Country Road & Time Goes By.

Days turn into weeks. Weeks to months. Before I even know it, Dawn is almost out of school for the summer.

I look at the calendar and mark an “x” through today’s date.

Friday, June 8, 2002.

One more week and then the three of us are moving on. Spike thinks Dawn will benefit from attending high school abroad. I’m inclined to agree. Personally, I’ll be happy to leave the States behind. I never thought I would be able to travel, see the world.

California girl, born and bred, and with the slayer gig, I’m destined to die young… or was. Now, I don’t know. My life is filled with choices. Uncertainty.

No destinies for this little girl. Not anymore.

Sometimes I wonder about Faith, if she’s still locked away in prison. Or if the Council managed to get her out somehow. I wonder, too, if another slayer was called when I died for the second time. Although, I suppose if that had been the case, she would have been in Sunnydale when I was brought back.

The only thing that greeted me on my return was a six foot climb out of the ground, and a Hellmouth taken over by demons. Oh, and my supposed friends that seemed only too happy to have me back among the living.

While Spike sleeps, I begin to pack away the things we’ll be taking with us – clothes, pictures, a few keepsakes. Everything else, we’ll leave behind for the next tenant. Spike assures me that he has more than enough money to see us set up someplace new without any difficulty.

Spike wakes up around two. At three, Dawn comes home. We spend the next few hours with Dawn finishing her last homework assignment of the school year, then the three of us veg in front of the television. On rainy days, we will sometimes venture out to the local diner for dinner, but since the sun is out – with no signs of it disappearing anytime soon – we stay in.

I’ve gotten marginally better at cooking with Spike’s help… and a 6-quart crock pot, and we sit down to a perfect dinner of seasoned rump roast – thank you seasoning in a bag! – and mashed potatoes. I even manage to steam some broccoli and smile as Dawn finishes off her plate without the first complaint. Spike, I discount; the vamp will eat anything.

And speaking of eating.

Feeding him was difficult at first. It’s not like we can exactly go to the local butcher and ask for a quart or two of animal blood. First, the tiny town we’re living in doesn’t have a butcher. Second, I can only imagine the stares we would get. 

Hunting for game was hard for him during the winter months and my neck probably looked like a pincushion because of it. Not really, though; slayer healing and all that. Besides, it’s rare that Spike drinks from me because he’s hungry, says he doesn’t want me thinking that at all.

Biting is his – our – thing. The way Spike explains it, what we have, our relationship, is different. When he bites me, he feels a connection with me on the most basic of levels. I have to agree. I can’t put into words how it feels, when his fangs pierce my flesh and blood leaves my body and fills his mouth.

It’s just… us.

So, yeah, wild animals are his dinner. Mine and Dawn’s too, though I leave it to Spike to make the meat more “presentable” – preferably far away from me. I may be a slayer, but not even I can stomach him mangling Bambi into something that wouldn’t cause me to flinch – or gag – when I cook it.

At eleven, Dawn goes to bed and Spike and I make sure she’s tucked in before stealing out into the night. Living in so remote an area, we don’t have to worry for her safety, though we’re not going to be gone long. Normally, I stay home while Spike ventures out, but with our coming move, I’m feeling somewhat antsy.

Well, not really antsy. More like excited. Eager, even.

I’m restless and figure a good run will help me expend some of that useless energy. Spike likes it too – when I play in the dark with him. Says his demon gets off on chasing me around.

Which reminds me… 

I bend low and sweep him off his feet with my outstretched leg. He falls hard, and his sudden “ooof” makes me chuckle. The sound of my laughter carries on the wind as I take off into the forest behind our home.  

~*~*~*~*~ 

He takes me there, up against the tree. With his demon staring me in the face, you’d think he’d be rough. But he’s not. He slides into me with agonizingly slow thrusts. His tongue is raspy against my neck as it licks the sweat from my skin.

“God, Buffy… love you…” he whispers against my throat, and my own fervent reply escapes my lips before I can catch it. 

I’ve never said it before, at least out loud. In my mind, I’ve said it a thousand times.

I love you. Three little words that strike terror in my bones. Every time I’ve given my heart in the past, I’ve had it ripped out of my chest and torn into a thousand pieces.  

And maybe… maybe I was hoping that by not saying them, Spike would actually succeed where the others had failed. That he and I will actually work.

Please, God, just this once. 

“Buffy…?” 

He stills inside me and I reluctantly lean back, bring him into my line of sight. Apparently, I’ve scared his demon into full retreat. He stares at me, eyes gone blue, and I can’t look away. 

There’s love there. So much love.

“Buf—” 

I cut him off with a finger to his lips. Look at him and will him to believe me, to see the validity of my words.

I love him.  

His mouth opens but nothing comes out. I nod.

Our lips meet and we sink to the ground, oblivious to the pair of amber eyes glaring at us from several feet away.

Prompt: Top

Title: Death Comes Knocking
Summary: Takes place in an A/U season 6. A continuation of Coming Home, Disappear, Country Road, Time Goes By & Not Alone.

I sit on top of him, my skirt bunched around my waist, completely still but for the rhythmic clenching of my internal muscles around Spike’s cock. His eyes are closed; the smooth pale column of his neck shows in stark relief against the darkness of the woods. I can tell he wants to scream his pleasure to the heavens – I’ve come to memorize this particular look.

I cream a little more at the memories it evokes, and hear a tiny whimper from him. Then my name.

I love it when he calls me Buffy.

Luv, please…

It’s the please that gets me. Makes me lean down and cover his lips with mine. Makes me raise my hips ever so slowly, feel his cock begin to withdraw.

His hands close around my ass and prevent my retreat. He exerts the tiniest bit of pressure and I take him in again. Muscles stretch to accommodate his girth.

Over and over it goes. In and out, until my orgasm catches me by surprise and I gasp into Spike’s mouth. Strong hands continue to guide my movements long after I finish and collapse against him, floating on a wave of post-coital bliss.

I’m surprised Spike hasn’t come yet. It’s rare that he doesn’t tumble along in my wake, unable to withstand the way my body massages his cock just so when I come.

Somehow I manage to gather strength in my arms enough to lever my upper body away from his chest.

His demon is staring me in the face – no surprise. He’s staring at me, at my neck, in particular. There’s a question there.

I know what he wants, even if he’s never voiced the need. To claim. To possess. To make his.

But then, I’d never told him I loved him… before tonight.

I make the first move, because I know he never will. For all his caring, his endless… providing… he’s never ask for something for himself.

And it’s something I want to give him. Not just my love.

Me.

I pull him up so we’re eye-to-eye and tilt my head, telling him without words that it’s ok. That he can have this. Have me.

I barely hear his guttural “mine” before his mouth closes over my throat and his fangs pierce my skin. His throaty moan is nothing compared to the anguished howl that rips through the night. I turn towards the noise and it’s…

“Angel?”

He doesn’t hear me, but Spike does.

Even with my slayer upgrades, Spike has me shifted off him and shoved behind his back before I can even register what he’s done. He’s growling, responding to the challenge Angel presents.

Angel, apparently, seems possessed of the same speed because he closes the distance between us quickly, scaring the wildlife away as he howls bloody murder.

Spike is there to meet him and they tumble to the ground amidst grunts, punches, kicks and bites. I stand, frozen in horror, as the two try and jockey for the position of power.

At least until my inner slayer kicks my butt into action. I move forward – after quickly tugging my skirt back into place – and when they roll again and Angel ends up on top, I grip his jacket tight in my hands, then fling him off Spike like so much garbage.

He goes sailing in the air, arms and legs flailing comically until he lands in a heap twenty feet away. Stupid vamp isn’t finished, however, and jumps to his feet, ready for some more.

Adrenaline is thrumming through my system now, and my body unconsciously sinks into a defense pose.

If Angel wants a fight, I’ll be more than happy to give it to him. I feel Spike sidle up next to me, his body relaxed, but no less ready.

I know the exact instant Angel gets it. Then, right on cue, comes the “I know what’s best for you” look and the spewed forth slew of “Buffy, what are you doing?” and “It’s Spike!” and “Evil this,” “Soulless that,” until all I hear is blah blah blah coming out of his mouth.

All I can think is how the hell did he find us? I must have voiced the question out loud, because Angel tells me, well… us.

“You didn’t actually think you could come to my town and not have me hear about it?” Angel directs towards Spike. “Zirk sends his regards, only… he doesn’t.”

Angel doesn’t elaborate why. He does show us the cloaking amulet around his neck. At least now I know why neither Spike nor I sensed his presence. And I’m too tired to take Angel to task for playing Peeping Tom.

His sudden presence into our lives is an oppressive weight around my shoulders. All I want is to sink into my bed and sleep, wake up and have this, him here, be a dream.

One more week. One more week and we would have been gone!

Spike must have sensed my distress because his arm settles around my shoulder and he snuggles me into his side.

“Can we go home now?” I plead, just loud enough for him to hear.

A brush of his lips against my temple and he turns us around, back towards him, ignoring out of hand the sputtering vampire left behind.

Spike hears Angel move into step behind him and tosses over his shoulder, “Don’t think that just because you’re my sire that I won’t stake you. Go home, Angel.”

A handful of steps more, then nothing else. Just the eerie silence of the forest surrounds us.

But I know that this isn’t the end of it.

The only question is, who else knows?

Prompt: Heated

Title: Melancholy Waters Lie
Summary: Takes place in an A/U season 6. A continuation of Coming Home, Disappear, Country Road, Time Goes By, Not Alone & Death Comes Knocking.

Hands warmed by the heated water soothe my aching, tense muscles while simultaneously lathering my body with scented body wash. At Spike’s silent urging, I step beneath the spray and allow the water to wash away the sweat, dirt, and grime I’ve accumulated. He applies gentle pressure to my hip, and I turn around and present my front for more of the same.

Neither of us says anything as he switches places with me and washes up with quick, economical movements. Then the taps are turned off and I’m nudged out of the shower and wrapped in a towel.

It’s only once we’re in bed that he says the words I’ve been dreading.

“He’ll be back.” 

“I know,” I whisper in reply, and snuggle closer. Let out a sigh when he holds me tighter.

I want to leave. Right now. Before Angel can figure out that we’ve gone. But, I know that it’ll never be over. That he’ll keep coming after us.

Better for us to stand our ground now and convince him to leave us alone.

Surprisingly, I fall right to sleep, not waking until I feel Spike leave our bed. 

“Spike?” 

His hand caresses my face, then he leans down and gives me a quick kiss. 

“I’m just gonna go let Peaches in,” he tells me and is gone from our room before I can protest.

I scramble out of bed and search frantically for something to throw on and manage to emerge from the bedroom just as Spike steps back from the door and lets Angel enter. He’s growling at Spike as he steps over the threshold, but as he catches sight of me standing in the living room, he stops.

“Angel.” My arms are crossed over my chest; I’m not going to put up with him being anything less than nice to Spike.

Not in our home.

“Why are you here, Angel?” I demand as he takes a seat on the couch. I choose to stand, as does Spike. Right next to me, in fact, his arm slung around my shoulder in a show of solidarity. Angel opens his mouth as if to speak, but I cut him off with a qualifier. “And don’t tell me you’ve come to bring me back. I’m not going back.” 

Angel’s mouth snaps shut, and he frowns, making his brows draw together. I can practically see the wheels turning in his head as he plans a new line of attack.

“Giles is worried.” 

I expected something like this, and I’m prepared. Angel is nothing if not predictable. 

“Giles gave up the right to be worried about me when he went back to England,” I tell him. There’s a hard edge to my voice.

“Buffy—” 

“No. I told you. I’m not going back. I’m done. Me and Dawn are gonna live our lives as we see fit.” 

“With Spike?” 

I ignore his caustic tone. “Yes. With Spike,” I reply calmly. 

“Buffy’s earned her rest,” Spike puts in. “And I aim to see that she gets it.” 

“She’s the slayer.” 

“Not anymore, she’s not,” Spike practically growls. “Her friends ripped her outta heaven, Peaches. Betcha’ Rupert didn’t tell you that, now did he? Only told you enough to get your knickers in a twist so’s you’d come after us.”

The news floors him, I can see that. Hell, it still does a number on me whenever I happen to think about it, which thankfully, isn’t often. His gaze swivels from Spike to me and I nod.

“It’s true,” I tell him. 

Angel’s pissed now. Pissed on my behalf. Possibly at being manipulated. But, I can see he’s still not happy with me being with Spike.

I could care less. My mind’s made up.

And there’s nothing Angel can do or say, that will get me to change it. I’m not going back to Sunnydale. Not now. Not ever. 

“Why don’t you go back to bed, luv? I’ll join you in a bit. Just gonna talk to Peaches here for a few.” 

I don’t even bother to argue. I am tired. Drained, both physically and mentally.

I nod and after a quick kiss, I walk away, leaving the two to settle things.

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