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*Club Binge, LA, the middle of July*

The first thing he became aware of was the noise. The pounding, incessant noise that was adding to his headache. He breathed once and tried to filter the smells: dust, sweat, alcohol, blood, vomit, and lust intermingled in a cocktail that could mean only one thing – he was in some sort of a club. Opening his eyes, he blinked a few times to get used to the stream of light burning his retinas from the strobes. He rose from the otherwise dark corner of the packed club wondering where his feet and car had taken him this time. A moment of insecurity made him search his pockets and he sighed in relief once he felt the DeSoto keys in his inner coat pocket.

Getting full control of his senses, he scanned the crowd to figure out whom he should have for dinner. Not liking the options closest to him, he stumbled toward the bar, thinking it would be a better place to scout for hot young things while getting some alcohol back into his system to dull the pain. Tonight I feel like having a brunette.

Grabbing a beer, he pushed out the thoughts of Sunnydale and everything that had happened during the previous month to the back of his mind once again.


*Sunnydale, the end of June*

“Just a bit more, pet. In a few more seconds Angel here’s gonna be a bowl of dust and you, my ripe, wicked plum, are gonna be back to your lovely destructive self.”

As the final seconds were ticking, a bright light enveloped Dru and Angel, while they stood bound together with the knife allowing the power transfer to occur. Dalton had done his job well, it seemed, and due to the Slayer’s speedy disappearance to LA, Spike was left free to put his plans into motion. Kidnapping Angel had been disappointingly easy: a couple of rumors, a little fang from one of the boys in a teen moron and a well placed tire iron to the head and presto – gift-wrapped Angel.

The light faded as the final moment approached and Dru let out a piercing howl and both Angel and her tumbled to the floor in a bloody, disheveled heap. Spike jumped towards them, trying to figure out if the transfer was complete or if something had happened to thwart his plan to cure his love. While he ripped through the bindings, he was puzzled by Angel’s undusted state. The book had said the elder vamp would be dust when the ritual ended. Guess the Poof got a lucky break in the fine print. I’ll put him out of his bloody misery just as soon as I make sure Dru’s back.

“Spike… My Spike, leave Princess to do it herself, she’s strong enough.”

“Whatever you want, luv. I’m glad you’ve come back to me.” Spike’s face threatened to split due to the huge grin he sported. He straightened out and watched as Dru gently placed Angel on the floor and trailed a hand down his cheek. Still riding the high of seeing his love strong and well, a part of him felt a pang of jealousy at her interest in the other vamp’s wellbeing.

“They showed me, they did. Don’t worry, Daddy, Princess will take care of you. We’re going to the painted men to see the dark one so he can show us the light. Pretty light, making everything white again.” Turning to the now befuddled Spike, Dru had a wistful smile on her face. She ran her nails down his prominent cheekbones and then kissed him tenderly on the lips. “My poor Spike, lost to his Dark Princess, but so full of song. No tune for Princess, though, only for the Sunshine.”

Even with more than a century’s experience in deciphering Dru’s cryptic ramblings, especially after a vision, Spike’s mind was working overtime trying to figure out what had just happened. “What’s wrong, pet, where’s the light calling us?”

Hissing, Dru took a step back, adopting a protective stance over the now recovering Angel. “Not us, you bad puppy. Bad puppies don’t deserve to travel on a full stomach. No more pretty girls for Miss Edith’s tea parties. ”

Angel groaned and raised himself on his elbows. “What just happened, Dru?”

“The pixies showed me our path, Daddy. We’ll get our sparkly lights together in the land of the blood-and-night men.”

“What about me, Princess, what about your Dark Knight?” Spike’s voice sounded pleading and desperate even to his own ears, but he didn’t care.

“You’ll get your turn, but not quite yet. Your path is bathed in Sunshine.”


*Club Binge, LA, the middle of July*

It had all gone downhill from there. Dru’s visions had come regularly after that and then she moved in with Angel, leaving Spike bereft and alone. He had tried everything he could think of to get her back, but his presents were either thrown out or broken up and any food he sent was set loose by the increasingly unstable female. A week after the ritual, Dru and Angel had disappeared without a trace and however much Spike searched, he couldn’t find any trace of them. The following week had seen increasingly blurry bouts of drinking, culminating with the decision to just up and drive. Spike left Dalton in charge of the minions, downed a couple of bottles of Jack with beer chasers and got into his trusty DeSoto, with no clear plan in mind.

Somehow he had arrived in LA and stumbled inside the club where, after eating the night watchman, he had finally succumbed to sleep after days of going without slumber. Now, somewhat sober, he started prowling the dance ring in search of a Drusilla replacement for the night.

As he surveyed the partygoers, a group of five or six losers vying for the attention of a scantily clad chit caught his eye. Getting closer, all thoughts of brunette on the menu fled his mind, as the blonde bombshell swayed her hips and ground her ass into any and all male bodies within range. Unable to see her face, he admired her bare arms as they wove intricate patterns in the air. Her stiletto shoes complemented the sight of her legs all the way up to her firm bum, barely covered by a very short black leather skirt.

When she turned around to rub her delectable behind on some git’s thighs, he raked his eyes over her obviously braless tits bouncing under the clinging red top. She’s wearin’ my colors. I‘m gonna eat you up, little girl. Finally reaching her face with his perusal, Spike was struck speechless. Wearing smoky black eyeliner and sinfully red lipstick, her hair flailing around to the beat of her movements was none other than the Slayer herself. Bugger me sideways.

Almost without realizing it, he flashed some fang at the ponces trying to cop a feel of the girl that could sweep the floors with their asses using just her little finger. As the would be suitors beat a hasty retreat, Spike moved behind her and placed his hands possessively on her hips, sliding them forward until his fingers interlaced on her taught stomach. Their pelvises started gyrating together and her hands raised around his neck, her head pillowed on his shoulder. Her eyes were still closed while her lips parted to allow a subtle sigh to escape.

Time seemed not to matter as the two of them moved in a world all of their own. The sound of the music blaring out of the speakers dimmed and they continued to sway to the rhythm of her heart. Spike’s erection was straining against the fabric of his jeans as her ass rubbed against him. After some immeasurable amount of time, her eyes suddenly popped open and blue met green.

“You came for me,” she whispered and Spike barely contained a possessive growl from resounding out of his suddenly dry throat.

“Were you waiting for me, luv? Was that what that show with the pillocks was all about?” he asked, barely registering the jealousy dripping in his tone.

“They were nothing.” She turned in his arms, her breasts pressed into his chest, her lips close to his. “Are you here to save me again?” The earnestness in her eyes caught him by surprise. This was not the wanton temptress that had been grinding herself on the bulge of his pants, driving every male in the club crazy with lust. This was a scared girl who had seen her own death and had been betrayed by the guy that was supposed to help her. Despite himself, Spike’s battered heart softened for her.

“Save you from what, luv?” He left his right hand on the small of her back, rubbing circles into her skin, while his left tangled itself in her golden tresses. “The Big Bad isn’t known for saving as much as for getting in trouble.”

“You saved me from both of them. If you wanted me dead, you’d have left me to drown there, in the cave.” A shadow passed over her face. “Want your prize now or later?” The earnest look was gone from her eyes, a cold, calculating Slayer on a mission taking her place. A mission to do what, though?

“Don’t need your pity, or your reward, Slayer. What I want,” he accented by thrusting his hips forward in a suggestive manner, “I take.”

“Sure you can take me, Spike?” She asked in a fake higher pitched voice, batting her eyelashes and then biting her lower lip.

Mesmerized by the way her teeth were worrying her luscious lip, Spike felt he was about to drool. Baby wants to play. “Why don’t we find out, kitten?” Tilting his head towards the back entrance of the club, he cocked his scarred eyebrow. “Up for a bit of rough and tumble?”

Giving him a bright smile, Buffy bounced away from him towards the exit, turning once she got half way to arch her back, run her hand up her thigh, and then crook her index finger in a come-hither motion. “I’m always ready.” She then flounced off, leaving a horny and grinning Master Vampire to trail her to the back alley.

Almost hooting with joy, Spike hurried to pass through the door, reaching it just as it was closing behind the Slayer. As soon as he got outside, he found himself slammed against a wall with a well-placed kick. “Oi, what the bloody hell did you do that for, luv?”

Giving him a once over and placing her hands on her hips, she started tapping her left foot. “Why are you here, Spike? Last time I saw you my life was turned upside down.”

Leering at her, he raised himself off the concrete. “I can turn you whatever side up you want, luv, just tell me how you like it.” Winking at her, he fished out a cigarette from his pocket and was getting ready to light it when she slapped it away.

Getting closer to him, she grabbed him by the lapels of his duster and pushed him back against the wall, pressing her body against his. “I asked you a question. Why are you here?”

“Maybe I’m here for you.” Pushing her back, he followed through with a knee to the guts and a punch to the face. He loomed over her, as she lay crumpled on the ground, his face split in an evil grin as he vamped out. “Maybe I want your blood to wipe out the taste of Dru’s betrayal from my mouth.” At her puzzled look, he decided to expand. “She was my salvation, you see. She made me and I loved her for over a century. Then I get to that shit-hole of a town of yours and it all gets bolloxed up. I get her well and she leaves with her precious Daddy, none other than your good-for-nothing Angel.” Looking into her now narrowed eyes, he softened his tone. “And here you are, getting me all worked up when I’m ready for a spot of violence.”

She launched at him and they both threw punches and kicks as best they could, looking for weak spots, testing each other’s limits and always trying some new maneuver to offset the other one’s attack. Spike felt the rush of battle and luxuriated in it, while Buffy moved with a speed and grace he hadn’t seen in decades.

Eventually, a feigned punch to the ribs, followed by an attempted kick to the groin gave Spike the opening he had been searching for. In the split second while her weight shifted for the attack on his manly bits, he struck out and hit her solar plexus, knocking the wind out of her. Before she knew what was happening, he had her on the ground, pinned under his body, with one of his hands keeping her head in place and his fangs dangerously close to her jugular. He almost felt her blood run cold while they both kept their pose, panting and heaving even though only one needed to breathe.

All of Spike’s instincts told him to finish it, sink his teeth in and drink from her. There was something there, though, that wouldn’t let him. That same feeling he had while he was performing mouth to mouth for the greatest enemy of his kind, the same part of him that had been perfectly content to dance with the girl with smoky eyes, was keeping him from taking the final step. The dance between them had barely begun, but the promise of what might come was intoxicating.

His combat-centric brain registered her scent. She was all power, sunlight and musk. Her blood beckoned him from a split lip and other scrapes on her body from their fight. The sound of her heartbeat reminded him of the moments he had spent working feverishly to restore that exact sound, yearning to hear it. He realized he wasn’t the only one confused, as she’d just frozen, apparently in terror, but her half-closed eyes told him a different story. She was just waiting for him to do whatever he pleased, whether he decided to kill her or let her go.

He focused on her eyes and his body moved like in a trance. Lowering his mouth to her throat, he liked a path up her neck, along her pulse-point. Reaching her chin, he licked up some splattered blood until his tongue met her lips. Almost roughly, but definitely more gently than he intended, he started licking at her bleeding upper lip. When there wasn’t any more blood, he put his own lips on hers and, still in game face, started sucking at them. His fangs grazed her lower lip and he mashed his lips to hers, his tongue finding its way into her mouth to battle with her own. The fervor of his actions had increased steadily, until the two of them were caught in a frenzy of kisses, their tongues fighting for supremacy.

The hand he was using to hold her head moved lower, to her neck and then even lower to cup one perfectly shaped breast, eliciting a strangled moan to escape her lips, as the flimsy top did little to dampen the feeling.

They were grunting and moaning in turns, Spike having lost his game face in the process. He allowed her to breathe, his mouth finding her earlobe and working it with his teeth and tongue. The smell of her arousal was so powerful, it drowned out everything else and Spike felt himself submerge in a haze of lust. Both her hands were free now, and as one explored his leather-clad back, the other grabbed him by the nape of his neck to pull him relentlessly towards her.

All of a sudden, her hands stilled on his back and her entire body went rigid. Sensing this, Spike stopped biting her nipple through her top and looked up at her face. Her eyes were wide and stormy and he knew their time was up. In mere seconds they were both standing, facing each other in fighting stances.

“Stay away from me.” Her tone was deadly and it was clear she meant what she said.

“I never bloody well meant to come near you.”

“Yeah, well, you did! I’m letting you go now ‘cause you saved my life, but this is the last time.”

Her eyes. Those eyes of hers‘ll be the death of me. “Don’t do me any favors, kitten. Threats don’t work on the Big Bad and you don’t even have a stake to back ‘em up.” Raking his eyes once more over her body, he smirked. “Or if you do, I’d love to see where you’re keeping it.”

She seemed unwilling to admit her disadvantage. “I mean it, you come near me again and I’ll slay you.”

Reeling because he still longed to touch her – and not in a combat way, either – he felt his borrowed blood start to boil. “Without me, little girl, you’d be either dead back in Sunnyhell or as another notch on some prick’s bedpost tonight. What’s next? Donating your body for bloody science?” He emphasized his words with broad hand movements, feeling a growl rise in his throat.

She laughed. The bloody bint had the audacity to start laughing while he felt jealous. “What are you, now? My guardian angel or something? I thought there was an Angel already doing the job.” Her laughter dying out, she continued in a more somber tone. “Although the way he was thinking of doing that…” Her words trailed off and she lowered her gaze to the dirty pavement.

“Bloody Angel is a ponce who’s run off with my Dru, and you best forget he ever existed. As for me… You call me that again and I’ll rip your throat out and beat you with your own brainstem.”

Raising her teary eyes to meet his, she stepped closer to him. “So why don’t you? Afraid the next Slayer won’t owe her life to you, so she’ll dust you in a second?”

Chuckling darkly, he closed the gap between them and grabbed her arms roughly. “I already killed two of your kind, Slayer. Don’t think I can’t take you, especially seeing as how you want it.”

Their lips met in a bruising, unyielding kiss and their tongues fought for dominance once again. Unlike the previous kisses, this wasn’t about lust, it was about control and they both kept their eyes open, challenging each other, giving it their best to end up on top. It ended when she had to pull away to breathe, her eyes still defiant. There were no victories to be had by either of them.

Turning her back to him, she started to walk out of the back alley that had been the stage for this unlikely tryst. Without even turning her head or raising her voice, she gave him a final warning. “Next time one of us dies.”

“You were dead the first time we met and I’m still dead now. I’ll kill you when I want to, not before.” Getting no reply from her, he decided against trying to goad her back for more… Violence, kisses, he wasn’t sure himself what he wanted more of, but he knew he would get it, whatever it was. Opening the back door to the club again, he started searching for his morning snack. He was in the mood for blonde.

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Previous Chapter: So our dance truly begins
Next Chapter: Past year of her life

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