Table of Contents
Previous Chapter: Dissociation
Next Chapter: Fluctuation

Turned out there wasn’t much to occupy time on the hellmouth when you were trying to be a white hat. Bully a butcher for some free blood, but he’d already done that once. Went down to Willy’s to get in a fight, too. Nothing like a bit of violence before turning in for the night. But it wasn’t the kind of violence he really craved. The kind that led to a full stomach. He’d spent days trying to occupy his mind, keep it off of the blood lust and the Slayer. But with nothing to actually occupy it other than an empty crypt, he’d failed massively. He needed to get a telly in that crypt. Maybe a little fridge. Something more comfortable to sit on than a slab of stone, since it looked like he’d be doing an awful lot more of that. 

Ironic. Finally got his freedom back, and he was spending most of his time cooped up trying not to think about the Slayer or eating people. Which just so happened to be the only two things on his mind.

Yeah, he needed a telly. Maybe a few good books. And a few that weren’t all that good, but were at least entertaining.

He’d already cleaned up the dust and most of the cobwebs. Had to leave a few, of course, to give it character. Vampire, after all. Couldn’t very well have a pristine clean crypt. Got lucky with the one he picked, though. He discovered a trap door, and a nice sized cavern underneath. Access to the sewers, which meant he could get just about anywhere around town during the day if he wanted to wander. Wouldn’t be hard to hook into the water supply, either. Get a little makeshift shower put in.

Being undead was no reason to smell like it. 

He’d have to get down to the city dump some time soon. See what kind of stuff he could find that was usable and cleanable. That area downstairs had potential. Soon, but not tonight. He had other plans.

Make a pass by the Slayer’s house all subtle like, make sure all was well and safe and no nasty little buggers were lurking about waiting to take one of his ladies out. Swing by the butcher and get a jar of blood to take the edge off before his final destination: The Bronze.

He could only take hiding out for so long. And he knew damn well he could control that urge to kill, when she was around. He hadn’t offed the cop, after all. Or her friends, when they were all crowding her like they had. Tempting, sure. But he’d only done minimal damage both times. The real test was not doing it when she wasn’t there. And he wasn’t about to sit around in his crypt day and night, avoiding humanity entirely, no matter how nice he planned on making it. He was already getting antsy, and it’d only been a few days. Patience had never been one of his strong points.

So, he’d have to start slow. And it didn’t get much slower than the middle of the week at that place. He’d just go, have a few beers, maybe some wings, and head back for the night. Wasn’t going there to hunt, or watch people, or hide in the shadows. Just… Going out, to pass the time. Like a nice, non-evil vampire would do. Hell, he might even get in a game of pool and make some cash so he didn’t have to pinch it off some wanker frat boy. He’d still get it from them, but least he’d earn it. That was probably considered to be on the not evil spectrum.

The thought occurred to him that… While he might not be going there to hunt, didn’t mean other vamps wouldn’t be. That place was like a buffet. People were too drunk to notice when you didn’t breathe, or that your hands were cold when you led them off to a dark corner. How many times had he and Dru picked off a couple up on the balcony, and nobody else even noticed. Chances were, even on a slow night, he’d spot at least a couple of vamps sizing up their next meal. Their last. Might be able to do a bit of good after all, then. He shoved a stake into the breast pocket on his duster, just in case, marveling at how well it fit. Oh, right. Slayer’s coat. Course it would fit. Right then. 

 

***

 

He took the table behind the stairs. Small, secluded. And people didn’t linger. Plus it was a straight line to the door if he got overwhelmed and decided he needed to get out of there. Perfect spot, really. Would’ve been a great spot to hunt from too, but… That’s not why you’re here. 

He had a beer. He had a plate of buffalo wings. Stomach full of pig’s blood. And he was doing just fine. Sure, he might’ve had his eye on a few would be likely victims. People who were easy targets. But only for a moment, and he wasn’t targeting, and he hadn’t even got out of his seat to follow them out the back door when they went to smoke. Leg might’ve twitched, but he didn’t do it. 

So far, so good.

He lit a cigarette and let himself scan the crowd. He wasn’t doing the thing he wasn’t supposed to be doing. Just watching. Taking in the scenery, such as it was. Looking for other vampires that were doing the thing. There were so many easy victims in that place. Frat boys starting their weekend early. Girls out for a night on the town with each other. Those that couldn’t hold their liquor. Then there were the ones who were predators in their own right. Looking for somebody to have a tryst with. Thinking about all the opportunities he’d be passing up for the rest of forever made his fangs itch. At least he had the wings to bite. Small consolation, in a room full of easily targeted people. 

The tendon in his jaw never stopped flexing, it seemed. Not when his fangs were threatening to come out of their own accord. The months-long starvation diet certainly hadn’t helped his chances of success. He knew that. And even though the pig’s blood did sate the hunger, it did bugger all for the actual urge to kill. That would probably always be a part of him he’d have to fight. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the urge, and got a whiff of something familiar. Something mouthwatering. Something he wasn’t expecting.

Slayer.

His eyes shot to the door and caught her coming in. The second his gaze found her, he couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t move. Seemed like time slowed down, and all the other patrons in the place got sucked into some alternate dimension. All he could see was her. His Slayer. Buffy. It’d been days pining over her and wondering if she was okay without him there to watch her back. Watching her stride in that way, full of confidence and power…

Bloody hell, was she gorgeous. He didn’t know what was so different about her. Normally when she got all dolled up for a night out it was… Subtle makeup and lip gloss and functional but fashionable clothing. Tonight, she was anything but subtle. 

Blood red lips, full and very very bitable. Thick liner under her eyes, and black shadow above. Hair done up in a messy-in-all-the-right-ways ponyhawk, little bits sticking out here and there framing her face. But god, that shirt. Lack thereof. Sheer little thing, with nothing underneath but a black bra. Left nothing to his imagination except what it would feel like to tear it off with his teeth. And God did he want to. Those black leather pants she had on weren’t leaving much to wonder either, and he knew exactly what it felt like to have her wriggling around on his lap. Combat boots and leather jacket were a nice touch, too.

And there, draped around her neck on a chain, was his ring. The one he’d given to her an eternity ago, when he’d asked her to marry him. Knew she still had it. Didn’t expect her to be advertising that though. He knew what it meant, to wear a fella’s ring like that. The question was, did she?

He locked his eyes on her, following her movements as she went from the door to the bar and ordered a drink. She paid, made her way over to a booth in a dark corner, and slipped her leather jacket off before tossing it onto the cushioned bench.. The way she did it, letting it fall to her wrists before catching it… he’d never seen anything so erotic in his entire unlife. He stared at her, mesmerized by the undulations of her throat as she gulped down half of her drink.

His gaze never left her as she strode to the dance floor, each step she took both deliberate and sensual. Her arms went above her head as she began to move to the music, every roll of her hips perfectly fluid. Everything about her drew him in. He found himself standing, taking calculated steps, making his way slowly toward her. 

He remembered this dance well. Remembered watching her like this. Just like this. He’d been captivated then, too. Prowling in the shadows, working his way through the crowd, getting as close as he could without being noticed. He was prowling now, too, but with entirely different intentions. This was hunger of a different kind.

He stopped, just at the edge of the dance floor, keeping himself to the shadows. His hand reached out to grip a nearby pillar, either to steady himself or hold himself back. He wasn’t entirely sure which. 

He was there, in the dark, while she danced in the light. A swaying, undulating beacon of fire amid the seething mass of humans on the dance floor. He watched, mesmerized, her every move imprinting on his mind and heart.

After an eternity wrapped in a stolen moment of time, her arms fell to her sides as the last note of music faded and her movements stalled. She turned slowly toward him, raising her gaze to meet his through heavily lidded eyes. He had to take a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. The look she was giving him was so intense, absolutely glossed over with lust. She had the exact same hunger he did. He could feel it, even from a distance, coming off her in waves. It was tangible.

He caught her scent as she came closer and inhaled it deeply, and couldn’t help that his mouth was suddenly watering. He’d tasted hints of her before. Her skin, her mouth, her blood. But not… whatever this was. Heat. Passion. Arousal that was aggressive and predatory, rather than something that had crept up on her.

He couldn’t tell if he was more turned on or terrified. Didn’t really matter though, did it? She wanted him, and who was he to deny her that? Probably couldn’t even if he wanted to.

She closed the last few feet of distance between them, and up close… He could tell something was off about her. Couldn’t quite put his finger on why, but… She was reminding him of Dru during one of her bad episodes. 

“Hello, cutie.” he breathed out, still trying to get his brain to process what was happening. Pretty difficult, when most of his blood was busy rushing in the opposite direction.

“Spike.”

She leaned into him, kissing along his jawline before sucking his bottom lip between her teeth. His brain might’ve forgotten how to function, but his body responded automatically. Flavor of Buffy was something he’d acquired a taste for the second it had touched his tongue, back when Willow had done that spell.

“Did I ever thank you?” she whispered against his ear, her voice honeyed.

That’s the terrifying bit, right there. 

“Not that I can recall.”

Something was definitely wrong with her. This wasn’t the same girl who’d kicked him out a few days ago. The one who’d said she didn’t know what they were, and that she needed time to think and clear her head. Something had happened to her, and he was ready to tear someone’s throat out over it. She was bad off enough without people making it worse. Probably one of her friends saying something stupid.

As much as he wanted to take her out back to the alley, he knew he couldn’t. He thought it was hard controlling the blood lust? Buffy lust was a hundred times worse. She was there, and on his lips, and against his body, and so damn warm. Could smell her arousal coming off of her, and knew she was ready for him already. And he couldn’t let himself do it.

“Can I thank you now?”

Her hands pressed against his chest, gently commanding him to go where she wanted him to, and he allowed her to guide him. Backward steps, until they reached her little booth in the dark corner, where he was almost certain they wouldn’t be disturbed. She’d chosen the perfect one. 

God, please don’t mess this up. You give in to her right now, she’s not gonna be happy about it in the morning. Takes more than a few days to get your head straight after what we went through, and she’s about three sheets aside from that. You’d be taking advantage. Black and white, Spike. Black and white. 

She slid her hands up to his shoulders and pushed him down slowly, following him down and straddling his hips. Her fingers raked through his hair, loosening his curls while she dragged her nails along his scalp and caused the most exquisite kind of pain. If this was a glimpse to the kind of passion she had when she was herself… God, he was well and truly buggered.

She guided his hands to her hips, and he couldn’t resist caressing her ass. Leaning in close to him, she slipped a hand between and fingered his belt buckle. Oh, bollocks…

“I was wrong to make you leave like that the other night.” She’d lowered her lips to his throat, tugged his hair to tilt his head back for better access before she planted a wet kiss just below his ear. “Tell me how to make it right, Spike.” she whispered, her breath so hot against his skin.

He had to stifle a moan at that. She was making it so hard. So bloody hard. It was like she knew every single button, and exactly how to press them, and the temptation to let her explore and press every single one as many times as she wanted was threatening to overcome him. He had to get some control, over himself or of her. 

Part of him… most of him… didn’t want to, but he couldn’t let it happen like this. This wasn’t where he got to have her for the first time, or how. She deserved a big soft bed, and candles, and lots of time to be properly satisfied. The metallic sound of his buckle being undone snapped his mind to the reality of the situation. She wasn’t going to stop unless he made her.

He stayed her hands and took several deep breaths. “Wait, love.”

His hands trembled against her forearms as he pushed her away gently, creating just enough distance that he was sure he could think enough to talk. Enough that she would hopefully take him seriously.

“Listen… It’s not that I’m not tempted. I am so bloody tempted. You’ve no idea… just how…” He closed his eyes, trying to reaffirm his resolve. 

Burning hot Slayer in his lap, practically begging him to take her somewhere remotely private to have his way with her, and he was having a bloody crisis of morality. For the greater good, he reminded himself. Do right by her now, and he’d have the chance to do it again. Do it right.

“I can’t let you do this.”

She pouted and sat back a bit more, adjusting her position and grinding against him in the process. “You… you don’t want me?”

“Ohh, no. I do. I really, really… But you don’t want me. Not really. Think doing this will make me happy, and God, would it. But this… it’s not just about me. Or you. No fun if we aren’t both equally in it, pet.” Well, maybe some amount of fun, but the aftermath would pretty much make it a moot point.

She looked… so lost. Gone was that confident woman she’d been just a moment ago. She was so vulnerable. She’d come to him for comfort, thinking he’d be mad at her. That she’d need to make something up to him, like she’d owed him anything. Now that he’d turned that bit down, she didn’t know what to do. But he did. She’d come for comfort, and that was exactly what he’d give her. Just not in the way she’d been expecting.

Bloody gray areas. Full of eggshells to tiptoe on.

“Let me give you what you need, Buffy.” 

She was in pain. Maybe not physical, but definitely emotional. That was something he could handle. He could make it better, for a little while. 

He pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her and holding her flush against his chest. She shuddered at the gesture, just enough that he could feel it, before winding her arms around his neck. Knew it. Girl’s having a bleeding breakdown. If his century with Dru had taught him nothing else, he knew how to take care of her. Knew how to soothe her and bring her back to herself. He pulled back, his mouth seeking out hers. 

He’d give her what she needed. An escape.

Her lips were hot against his own, sharing their warmth. He resisted the impulse to devour her mouth, focusing instead on learning every surface of it. his tongue ran across her bottom lip before dipping inside for a taste. Her fingers twined in his hair before gripping it suddenly. His cock jumped at the pain, and he let out a moan. Her tongue caressed his own, trying new things. Spike couldn’t imagine the great poof had spent much time on this, so he’d just have to make up for it. 

She nipped at his lip and pulled away, kissing a trail to his ear before drawing the lobe between her lips. Bloody hell, she didn’t need anybody to teach her anything. Her mouth moved lower, stopping on what would be the pulse point on a human to suck a bruise onto his skin. 

He was so helpless under her touch, but was trying desperately to resist the desire to let her go further. To let her do whatever she wanted to him.

“Buffy…”

Her name escaped him, spoken as a prayer. She shimmied her hips, and he was back in the same predicament all over again. She was overpowering, in more ways than one. 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. For her. He had to control the both of them for her. Give her what she needed instead of what they both wanted. He captured her hips with his hands, stilling their movement. Then he kissed her, giving her bottom lip a gentle nip with blunt, human teeth. 

“My rules, Slayer,” he growled. “Play time right now. To relax you. Give you what you need. Nothing more until you can take me home to your mum and ask me to your bed. We clear on that?”

She stared at him, wide eyed, as if she didn’t know what to do with what he’d just said. But she slowly nodded her head, accepting it. 

This, he could do. He kissed his way along her jaw, down to her throat, and gave another gentle bite. She gasped and tensed in his arm, a spasm rolling through her. Her head arched to the side to give him better access, and he took it. That’s it, baby. He dragged the tip of his tongue slowly over his intended target, and felt another shudder go through her. She was so close… One of her hands came up to cradle the back of his head, gentle but firm, holding him in place.

He shifted, letting his fangs descend. She tensed in his arms, but didn’t pull away. Didn’t stake him. She was trusting him. 

“Tell me you want it, Slayer.”

She leaned in with a tiny whimper. Not good enough. Not for this. Plus, he wanted to hear her say it. Wanted her to tell him that she wanted his fangs in her, like this, in the most depraved and debauched way. Wanted her to beg him for it.

Tell me.” he growled.

“Please…”

He grazed her, just enough to draw blood. Just enough to get what he needed. Just enough to give her what she needed. She relaxed almost immediately and leaned into him as it took effect on her. That first wave of euphoria. He drew his fangs back in and began to suck and lap in earnest at the tiny incision he’d made. A mark all his own. She clung to him, her nails biting into his scalp, but he didn’t care. He just hugged her tighter against his chest and continued his ministrations.

“What the hell are you doing, Spike?”

Of course. Of all the most perfect moments for Xander Bloody Harris to show up, this was the one he chose to interrupt. Spike’s eyes shot up to the boy, and found the witch standing next to him as well. Even better. Caught by her so-called friends in the middle of a private moment. Not that Buffy seemed to mind, exactly. The euphoria was already settling over her, taking firm hold over the worries of her life. 

“I’ll see if I can find- Buffy?” 

Well, if that ain’t delicious. Didn’t even know what they were getting into, did they? Didn’t recognize her.

Buffy sighed heavily and turned to face the Scoobies, but didn’t move from Spike’s lap. Didn’t take her fingers out of his hair. 

“Oh, look. It’s exactly who I didn’t want to see.”

 


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Table of Contents
Previous Chapter: Dissociation
Next Chapter: Fluctuation

Reviews ( 2 )

Vic
February 17, 2021 20:42

Love this. Perfect chapter. 💙

Mother_of_Unicorns
February 13, 2021 19:52

"He shoved a stake into the breast pocket on his duster, just in case, marveling at how well it fit. Oh, right. Slayer’s coat. Course it would fit. Right then."

This just feels so right...kismet like.

"And there, draped around her neck on a chain, was his ring. The one he’d given to her an eternity ago, when he’d asked her to marry him. Knew she still had it. Didn’t expect her to be advertising that though."

Even thought it was mentioned she still had it in the previous chapter, I was not expecting her to be wearing it right away...but of course she would.

"He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. For her. He had to control the both of them for her. Give her what she needed instead of what they both wanted."

I feel like this is really the way Spike would have been with her in season 6 when Buffy came back if they hadn't fucked it up. This feels way more in character....

Loved this chapter 🙂