#spuffy fluff

She made her way down the corridor, heard his voice as he was just finishing up with his own group and she stayed unnoticed by the door, leaning back against the wall though could not help her curiosity for his teaching. He'd told her about it, but experiencing it first-hand was different.

“You're like a super-vampire.”

Buffy recognised Bree's voice, one of the girls from their table that first morning. She was a great fighter.

Spike laughed. “Just had a lot of practice, that's all,” he said. “Don't come close to anything you girls are going to be capable of.”

She smiled to herself, knew he was being modest as he held back for most of the fighting practice with the Slayers. Slowly, the girls started coming out of the room, those that noticed Buffy giving her a smile, a wave, a curious look. She waited for Bree to pass, but heard her voice again inside instead, though closer to the door now.

“Are you doing anything now? I was going to head out to the pub, if you want to come.”

He cleared his throat. “I'm actually taking Buffy out.”

Bree was quiet for a moment and Buffy felt strange listening for a moment. There was no jealousy, she knew how Spike felt about her and yet, someone else perceiving him the way she did, it did something to her.

“Oh, don't worry,” she said quickly. “I... uh... actually... no, nevermind.”

“What is it?” Spike asked. “Maybe another time.”

“I'm not sure,” Bree said shakily, but laughed it off. “Some of the girls have just been talking, so... well, are you and Buffy...”

He didn't speak for a moment, but must have indicated some kind of confirmation.

“Right...” Bree laughed nervously again. “Well, pretend I never asked then,” she added.

Buffy considered waiting in their room. Even though she hadn't meant to listen and just wait for him, she felt she was invading somehow.

“Oh. Um. S'alright,” Spike assured Bree as he understood. “Takes balls. Can I just-... do you mind not telling the others? I'm not sure Buffy wants everyone to know...”

“That you two are fucking? No worries, I won't announce it to the group.”

“Fuc-... I mean, but... we're also... well, it's more than that.”

“Oh, right.” He inhaled audibly. “Well, I can't blame her. Or you. She's amazing.”

Spike chuckled. “She is.”

“Well, your secret's safe with me. And thank you for being cool. Just do me a favour and don't treat me any different now.”

“I won't.”

“We're cool?”

“We're cool.”

Buffy smiled to herself, taking a step back just as Bree exited the room, giving her a smile and not seeming to think she'd waited and spied on her.

When she entered the room, however, Spike could tell instantly from the look on her face. She could see it on his.

“You heard that, did you?” he asked quietly.

She tilted her head to the side, inquisitive, but it drew his full attention to her bare neck, her skin glistening, making the fading marks of his fangs much more apparent. Simply the memory of the pure ecstasy he'd felt made his head spin and it took everything he had to focus.

“You think she'll tell everyone?”

He swallowed. “I'm sorry, pet.”

Her eyes widened. “What? No, don't be. I don't mind them knowing, I just think they'll have questions we might not want to answer. Might help with them not asking you out though.”

“Well...” The corner of his mouth twitched.

“You didn't even realise that's what she was doing, did you?”

“Not right off the bat, no,” he admitted. “Hang on a minute.” He raised his eyebrows. “Darling, are you jealous?”

Her lips curled into a smile. “Not like that,” she said, taking a step towards him.

He hummed. “Like what?”

She rolled her eyes. “Like, you're mine. But I trust you. And I don't mind them knowing that I have you.”

“Want to show me off, do you?” he teased, though cut off when she took a hold of the material of his T-shirt and pulled him down by the collar to kiss him, a low moan coming from him as he moved her lips with his, though surrendering to her control helplessly. He could tell she was still fired up from her own training, her blood pumping fast, her movement still slightly Slayer-esque and she only broke away when she heard steps and soon, voices, coming down the hall.

While Spike went to get some blood, Buffy took a shower back in their room, then tried to put an outfit together that was appropriate for a chill air she had mostly felt coming from the window, though inappropriate enough for Spike taking her out. Ultimately, she settled for pair of jeans that was mostly tight but flared out at her ankles. A pair of boots, a silky black turtleneck sweater and a big furry coat.

She stepped out just as Spike made it to the other side of the door.

“Well, fuck me.”

Buffy laughed. “Later.”

Spike flashed her a grin, wiggling his eyebrows. “Counting on it. I'll be two minutes.”

He was a few more, but stepped out with his hair still slightly damp, a pair of dark blue jeans, his black boots, a dark grey jumper and his leather coat. He smelled lovely. “You look handsome, Big Bad.”

“You look stunning, my love.”

She grinned back at him and took his arm, following him down the hall and out into the night, staying close to his side, her head leaned against his arm.

He took a deep inhale through his nose as they stepped out the door and looked around.

“You've not been in a while?”

Spike shook his head. “No, but I reckon I still know the best pub,” he told her. “Get something bloody great to eat as well.”

She was curious, intrigued by him leading the way, she suspected this would tell her much more than simply asking him questions about where he came from. “Has it changed much? I mean, obviously, it's changed, but... what do you think?”

“Since I grew up here?” he asked, looking at her from the side, the heels of her boots clicking on the pavement.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “How does it feel?”

He was surprised by her question, had to take a moment. He realised that not only had it been a while since he'd been in London, it was also the first time back home since getting back his soul.

“Spike?”

He cleared his throat. “Sorry, pet,” he said quickly. “I just... well, I feel different, for the first time I'm really back here the same way I was when I grew up here. Like, my soul.”

She watched him closely. “Oh, right,” she said. “Does it feel like... coming home?”

He pursed his lips. “I... yeah.” He swallowed. “I've brought... William home.”

“Y-You...” She stopped herself. Though she had known two vampires, loved two vampires, that had regained their souls, she felt it had confused her more than it had taught her about the matter. While Angelus had always seemed to have been quite the opposite to Angel, Spike's – at the lack of a better word – soul had not made as impactful of a difference. Spike had loved her, cared for her and Dawn and even her friends without his soul. The Spike she knew and what she knew of William had never seemed like opposites. And the more he let her in now, the more it seemed William had been there all along. What she'd learned about vampires from the beginning was that a demon replaced the human and the soul, which implied that the soul returning exiled the demon from the human body and it had always seemed that way with Angel. Spike, however, had not been replaced by William, nor did it seem like the demon had ever fully been able to get rid of William.

“Buffy?”

“I'm listening,” she told him.

“No, I didn't say anything, you just... went quiet. What's on your mind?”

He was leading her down into an underground station, clearly having determined it was too far to walk to where he wanted to take her. “It's hard to put into words,” she said. She had no idea how he felt talking about it, despite him having told her she could ask him anything.

He smiled. “I'm listening, pet.”

She tilted her head to look back up at him. “I'm worried about upsetting you,” she told him honestly.

He raised his eyebrows. “Hey, I'm okay. I'm sure it's fine.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, taking a deep breath. She followed him further into the station until they were stood on the platform, waiting for the next train.

“I promise, princess.”

She pressed her lips together, sticking close to his side, now avoiding his eyeline, instead resting her cheek against the cool leather of his sleeve. “I never quite understood how it works, with the demon and the soul and all when becoming a vampire,” she said. “I thought I did, but it seems more complicated.”

“How d'you mean?” he asked, pressing a kiss to the top of her head which made her hold on to his arm tighter.

“You say you've brought William home,” she mumbled. “You have your soul and I always thought that meant you'd become who you were before you were turned, plus fangs.”

Spike chuckled at her choice of words, though waited for her to continue.

“But you didn't change that drastically when you came back with your soul. You didn't just bring back a stranger to my house that hasn't lived since the late 19th century. You're Spike. My Spike.” She paused. “Right?”

He could hear the doubt in her voice, the fear that he had brought a stranger back to be with her in his place, that the man she loved was not who she thought he was. “Look at me.”

She did as he asked, loosening her grip on his arm and drawing back to focus on his face, the look in his eyes instantly calming her, gentle, reassuring.

“To be honest, I never fully understood how it worked. But I can tell you how it was for me. The moment I was changed, I felt liberated. And I don't know if it were the human memories, but I was William, without a soul, but still the same man, I cared about my mother, I wrote poetry and I loved so strongly, as I told you, stronger even than before. I felt freed to do what William had done. Not commit violence, but to break from the restrictions of society. When I went to get my soul back, the process was agony, though nothing compared to having to process what I'd done without it. It destroyed me, drove me mad. But I was already good, I'd tried to be at least, for you. But I knew when I tried to... force myself on you... that I couldn't truly be good in the way you deserved. Not without a soul. I don't think I brought back William, I brought back the true humanity in me that he had, that separates soulless vampires from anyone with a soul.”

She nodded, hung on to his every word, jumping when she heard the train approaching, the light becoming brighter from the tunnel and they waited for people to come out onto the platform before Spike led her to board the train, looking around and sliding into the only seat at the far end of the row, before she could protest pulling her swiftly into his lap.

Buffy squealed, almost embarrassed at her reaction, though then felt him bury his face against her neck, his lips pressed to the skin just behind her ear and she realised there was nothing to be worried about. No one knew her on this train, she looked good, made up for their date, the man in whose lap she sat irresistible – to everyone around her, and the feeling sank in even for herself, she was a normal girl, they were like any other couple, out for a date, in love and unable to keep their hands off each other even in public.

Slowly, she relaxed, into the touch of his hands on her, the feeling of his lips. “What're you doing?” she whispered, moving her hand to intertwine her fingers with his, resting on her thigh.

“Feeling so bloody lucky, love,” he mumbled.

She couldn't see his face, but she knew his eyes were closed, his expression soft, at peace, but the depth of his voice was dangerous, made her skin tingle. She had a way with words, with his tone, but right now, she wasn't entirely sure he was aware of it. “What would William think about this?”

His low chuckle was close to her ear. “Fuck, love, he wouldn't know what to do with you.”

Buffy tipped her head back, just enough to be able to look at him, his arm tightened around her. “How so?” she asked, blinking back at him. If it was as he said, she was even more eager to find out about his past, his human past, how William wasn't gone, how he was a part of her Spike.

“Would cum right in his pants just from you sat like that.”

Her face flushed, though no one around them seemed to pay much attention to them, his voice only audible to her. “Spike-”

“He'd be in awe of you, love,” he added, not letting her doubt him. “Even more than I am now.”

She felt his lips against her skin as he spoke, nuzzled into her neck again, making her head spin.

“I don't think he could handle you.”

Despite his words, he knew that he had her at his mercy, knew exactly how little it would take to have her weak for him, but there were too many people, their stop was approaching, but when it did, it was him that needed a moment to compose himself with how she rocked into his lap when the train came to a halt and he stuck close to her when he indicated for her to get up and she led the way onto the platform, turning around to him for directions only for her back to collide with the wall, his lips on hers, eager, all-consuming and she melted, the touch of his hand on her ass hidden, her fingers clutching his jacket to keep him close.

She revelled in the feeling, the intensity, the shameless devotion, a large smile plastered across her face when he drew back, took her hand, looked up at her as they stood on the escalator, her one step above him, her fingers brushing through his hair.

“You happy, pet?”

She pressed her lips together, nodding. “Very.”

“Yeah?”

Buffy sighed. “I feel like a normal girl.”

He beamed back at her. He knew it was what she wanted, that the now shared responsibility of Slayer duties was the main reason that had made this possible, but there was also her unapologetic way of doing what she wanted now and hell, he couldn't get enough of it. And if he could help, he would do anything he possibly could.

They exited the station and back in the street, he saw the pub he'd been headed for across the street. “It's still there,” he said, squeezing her hand as they crossed to the other side, his free hand pushing the door open and letting her go ahead before following.

“Sit down, love, and I'll get us some drinks,” he told her, nodding towards a table further in the back.

“And you promised food?”

“Trust me to order for you?”

She pretended to think for a moment, then nodded. “Mm.” She got on her tiptoes, pecked his lips, then strode to the table he'd indicated, shuffling out of her coat before she sat.

He watched her go, missed her even for the moment, the feeling of her lips lingering on his, making him crave her more.

Buffy watched as he walked up the bar, then let her eyes wander to take in the space. It was every bit what she expected, resembled the Bronze in the ways that she knew were the few things Spike had appreciated about it. There was a pool table further in the back, drinks lining the walls behind the bar and it smelled of whisky and smoke, but she figured the main reason he liked the place was the vintage looking photos on the wall, mainly musicians, old Hollywood actors. But most of all, the music that was playing, currently, The Ramones, if she wasn't mistaken. All of it screamed Spike and though it would not have been her date destination of choice, she would not have had it any other way, loved the confidence he radiated when he was fully comfortable, the strut as he approached, the way he nodded his head to the tune, glasses in hand, it was all she had been desperate to see, especially after having dragged him here to work with the Council.

“What's this?” she asked as a tall glass was placed in front of her.

“Strawberry and lime cider, princess,” he said. “Trust me, you'll like it.”

Buffy couldn't deny that it sounded nice, she did trust him, raising her glass and looking up at him.

He smirked, picking up his own pint and letting their glasses meet in the middle, his eyes locked on hers. “Cheers, love.”

She smiled back at him, taking a curious sip, despite having believed him pleasantly surprised. She hummed, instantly taking a second sip, beaming back at him. “This is good.”

He pursed his lips, wiggling his eyebrows knowingly. “I know what you like, baby.”

She rolled her eyes, though brought her leg to touch his under the table, leaning back in her seat. “I can see why you like it here,” she said. “It's very you.”

“I used to come here a lot. In the 70s.”

Buffy nodded.

“We're not that far from where I used to live either. Before I turned, I mean. Nothing looks the same, of course,” he added.

“Nothing?”

“Well, once I saw there was a bit of green, it's not a park anymore where it used to be. Where I used to come and write.”

“Poetry?” she asked.

Spike nodded, taking another sip from his beer. “Well, yeah.”

“Do you still...”

He raised an eyebrow. “Write poetry?” He knew what she meant, but he needed the moment to consider what to say carefully.

She nodded again, waiting patiently, placing her elbows on the table, her face in her palms.

Her full attention was on him, she hung on to his every word. It could be terrifying. “Sometimes.” He cleared his throat. “No, I mean-” He cut himself off. “I do. All the time.” There was no reason to lie to her. “Who am I kidding?” He lowered his gaze, huffing out a laugh as he shook his head at himself. “I write all the time. All about you, love.”

“Really?”

Her voice was soft and he found himself reaching for her hand over the table, her eyes focused on his when he dared to look up at her face again. “Fuck, really.” He swallowed. “Of course.” He knew what was coming.

“Will you read me some later?”

Her eyes were wide, the look on her face innocent and curious and everything in him screamed, as it always had, to never show anybody anything he wrote ever again. But she wasn't anybody. And how could he possibly deny her anything? When he said he'd do anything for her, he meant it, when he told her he was hers entirely, there were no exceptions.

“'course she does,” Spike muttered. “He's got no business here.”

“He's... well, I know you might not like it, but he has actually been helping the training. Why he kept it from you that you were alive... that's beyond me.”

“He's jealous,” Spike huffed.

“Now, I don't think-”

“He is,” Buffy cut him off. “He was jealous when he came and brought the amulet. Spike spent months without a body and Angel didn't help him contact me. He's a coward.” She realised that while she had told herself that from the first time he'd really left her, she now really meant the words as they left her lips. “He always has been.”

Giles looked from Buffy to Spike. “I'm sorry, I had no idea.”

Buffy swallowed hard. “I don't want to train with him. I don't want to be near him,” she said. “I thought he cared, but... he knew how I felt about Spike, he knew how much it must have been hurting me and he still let me believe he was dead. He only cares about himself.”

“He always has,” Spike said quietly.

Giles listened, nodding. “I'll see what I can do. If the Council doesn't send him away, I'll certainly figure something out.”

Buffy breathed out with relief, grateful that despite having doubted Spike, as well as her judgment when it came to him, Giles was on her side no matter what.

“There we are,” he said as they reached a door at the end of the corridor. “Why don't we start training tomorrow? You get some rest, and then in the morning, you and me get together?” he offered.

Buffy smiled. “Thank you,” she said, getting on her tiptoes before kissing his cheek, then making her way into the room.

“No kiss from me, but...” Spike gave him a nod. “Thanks, Rupert.”

When they went to lie down, Buffy made sure that this time, Spike really did go to sleep. With her fingers stroking his hair and his head on her chest, he soon drifted off. She was awake, the sleep she'd managed to get on the plane keeping her anger from being overpowered by fatigue the way Spike's had. She'd been so happy the past few days that she hadn't allowed herself to think about Angel, but now, having seen his face, the very definition of indifference on it, she could barely keep her anger at bay. She was grateful with everything she had that Spike had returned to her and it was every bit worth the time she had mourned him and yet, she could have known sooner, she could have been spared so much pain, she could have gone to help him be spared. Multiple times as she lay there, she felt the urge to get up, to seek out Angel and confront him, the man that claimed he'd always love her. Next to the way that Spike loved her, she saw now that it never came close to comparing. And he was the only reason she stayed as she was, to not wake him, to make sure he got the rest he needed after having been through so much, after following her here when she knew it was the last thing he wanted for himself. And now, just as he'd managed to leave Angel behind once again, she'd brought him right back to him.

Her thoughts were running, eventually in circles, to the point where her own eyes closed and she only woke when Spike stirred in the early hours of the morning, the light behind the curtains suggesting most of the night had gone.

“Buffy...” His voice was quiet, gentle, hopeful.

She shuffled to sit up as he lifted his head, her heart skipping a beat at the look in his eyes. God, she adored the softness that was and always had been reserved just for her. “I'm glad you got some rest.”

“Did you?” he asked.

She nodded. “Some. Just... I hope we don't have to see Angel.”

Spike nodded. “Speaking of him though, you think they'll give me some of whatever he's eating?”

Buffy pressed her lips together, but knew it was probably the best way to get him fed. “Yeah, let's go and explore some, shall we?”

After she'd gone to freshen up and change, she returned to him just changing into a fresh T-shirt, having regelled his hair, they left the room, headed back down the wide corridor, doors like theirs lining both sides and she led the way towards where she seemed to hear voices from.

“Reckon they're already training?” he asked her, looking around, his voice low.

“Possibly,” Buffy said. “Maybe we look for Giles.”

While the building had barely given any indication of its interior upon arrival, it was now beginning to look like some kind of educational institution, like an old university, or boarding school. They passed what looked like the open door to a library, then, finally, the chatter became louder and louder and in a cafeteria-like hall, scattered across different tables, the Slayers were eating.

“You should probably join them,” Spike said as they came to a stop, still unnoticed by the dozens of girls. “Have some breakfast.”

“What about you?” she asked. “Come on, surely they'll know where Giles is and he'll be able to get you some blood. You won't be able to leave for a little while. If not, I'll go out and get you some.”

“How about you eat first?” he said, nodding for her to go on, could tell she maybe wasn't quite ready to face it all, but, and he knew he shouldn't have been surprised, all it took for her was a deep breath and she entered the hall confidently, leaving him no choice but to follow and within seconds, her presence took over the room, a girl here and there recognising, turning to whoever they were sat with, making more heads turn until there was no doubt in anyone in the entire room that Buffy Summers really was there now.

“Buffy!” the first call came from across the room. “Come sit with us!”

Buffy smiled, despite feeling quite overwhelmed meeting every pair of eyes she locked with with a warm smile. She wanted none of these girls to be intimidated by her and despite having trained with the potential Slayers before, there were so many here, they had learned already, heard about her, she could only imagine the idea they had of her. And she saw herself in every single one of them, younger versions of herself, more or less experienced in fighting, magic, life. There were no tables left empty so she followed the first invitation she'd received, taking up a seat with a group of three girls, a freckled ginger girl, the one that had called her name, beaming back at her.

“Hi, I'm Taylor,” she said.

She could make out an accent, though couldn't quite place it. “I'm Buffy,” she said. “And this is-”

“Spike,” the girl next to Taylor concluded. “Wow. You died to save the world? And you came back.”

Her eyes were wide and for a moment, Spike was rendered speechless. “I mean, well, it was the right thing to do,” he said, shrugging it off. “With that bloody amulet.”

Buffy smiled, though distracted by Taylor.

“You just arrived, didn't you? It is such an honour to meet you. We've already learned so much about you. Mr Giles has taught us. It's my favourite type of lesson when we learn about you. I just... want to be like you.”

“I mean, I'm here to teach you guys, but there's much individuality that comes into the way every Slayer finds her way, you know?” she smiled. “And I look forward to seeing what that means for each and every one of you.”

“You'll be training with us today?” she asked, her eyes wide with a hope that reminded Buffy of Dawn when she was younger.

“Yes,” she assured her. “Just needed some time last night. Jetlag and all.”

Taylor nodded. “You should get some food,” she said, taking a bite from the slice of toast on her plate.

“Yeah, I will...” she said slowly. “Just... can you tell me where... Mr Giles is?”

“Probably in his office or- oh, there he is now,” she said and Buffy turned around, seeing Giles coming in through the same way they had. She rose from her feet, meeting him halfway.

“There you are,” he said. “I was going to come and get you, show you everything. But figured you'd already taken it upon yourselves.” He smiled to himself. “I spoke to Angel. Not a great chat, but he knows he shouldn't be staying much longer if he doesn't want any trouble. I'm just not sure he followed my advice. Yet.”

Buffy swallowed. She was glad she at least didn't have to see him right then. “Thank you,” she said, lowering her voice. “I was wondering... has the Council got any blood anywhere? Like for Angel or-” She licked her lips. “Spike hasn't eaten since before we left.”

“I already made sure they'd bring some to your room,” he assured her.

She relaxed, looking up at him with her expression softened. “Thank you. And thank you for... well, not being weird that he's here.”

“We do all need to be grateful, if we like it or not,” he said. “But I know things have changed. I just... if you're alright to tell me the whole story...”

“I will...” she assured him, though distracted when she heard his voice from the table coming into her focus again when she turned.

“Oh, no, I'm 150. Well, will be this year,” he said.

“So why do you go by Spike? Not William?” All three girls at the table were hanging on to his every word and some nearby had turned around to listen.

“Well, isn't it all in the books?” Spike asked, a smug, all too familiar smile playing around his lips and she knew that just as much as then, he loved the air of mystery he'd built, it surrounded him even now.

“What do you think?” Buffy said quietly to Giles. “Should I just leave him here?”

“They'll tear him apart, I'm afraid,” Giles chuckled.

That night, Buffy was on the verge of sleep when she heard the door click, instantly wide awake. The sound was followed by another click of the door, Spike shuffling into the room, sliding out of his boots and jeans and she blinked, could make his silhouette out in the darkness just about, could tell he was trying his best to be quiet. He slid his shirt over his head, then, without trying to make the mattress shift too much, joining her on the other side of the bed.

She turned to face him, her voice merely a whisper. “You okay?”

“O-Oh, yeah,” he said, slightly startled. “Yeah, just went for a drink. How was it with Giles? And how was training?”

“It was good. Most of my group are pretty impressive fighters” she hummed. “ And Giles got me up to speed on everything. And I him. I missed him.” After breakfast and her catch up with Giles, Buffy had started training with a small group of the girls, while another had asked to officially learn some things from Spike. She'd then been brought into a meeting with some important members of the Council at Giles' request, finding that when asked, Spike had declined. “What about you?”

Under the covers, her leg brushed against his as she adjusted her position to get comfortable. Her skin felt warm against his and though he wasn't drunk, the slight buzz in his head made things less complicated. “You're sure you don't want me to sleep o-...”

“Don't be an idiot,” she said quietly.

“Did he say anything?” he asked. “Giles? About us?”

“He understands how we left things, he didn't judge. Don't worry. And he knows there's no changing my mind anyway, that I've made my choice to stand by... you. My choices.”

Her words silenced him, it was real. She wasn't hiding him, she stood by him. He was in awe of her.

“Don't try to distract me,” she mumbled into the darkness.

He chuckled. “It was fine,” he said, barely having realised he'd lost track of her question. “I tried to tell them just the basics about fighting vampires, but... you can imagine they were nosey little buggers. Lots of prodding questions. About me, my past...”

“I also have questions about your past,” she said.

He could hear the smile in her voice. He wanted so badly to kiss her. “You know you can ask me anything,” he said.

“Spike. You don't have to say that.”

He reached for her hand between them, intertwining his fingers with hers, bringing them up to his lips to press a kiss to her knuckles. “I'm not,” he assured her. Anything for you, my love.”

Her skin was tingling, the intensity in his voice, his words, drawing her in. “I just...” She found it hard to focus as he slowly but surely took over all her senses, his scent, the depth of his voice... “I don't want you to talk about anything that could be... painful.”

He sighed. “Maybe I am dead...”

“Spike...”

“You're right, I probably wouldn't be in heaven.”

She swatted his chest with her other hand, tutting.

He felt her shuffle closer to him. “Just seems too good to be true, pet. All this. You.”

“How do you think I felt when you turned up and saved me from that demon? And it turned out you were real?”

Her hand found his chest again, flat on his skin this time, his eyes closing at the feeling.

Thoughtlessly, she let her fingertips wander across his skin, feeling the definition of the muscle there.

“Feel anything you like?” he teased, could tell she was getting carried away.

“Mmm, maybe...”

She'd touched him so many times, grabbing, biting, but she'd never before admitted anything like this, not in any sort of way, and certainly not out loud.

“Maybe?” he tested, tensing slightly when her hand wandered lower, and he was unsure if she knew what she was doing.

“Stop,” she whispered. “You know you're irresistible.”

He could practically hear the roll of her eyes in her tone. “Pet,” he laughed. “Are you drunk?”

“I'm not drunk!” she protested. “Had like one glass with Giles after the meeting. To my health.”

“One glass of what?”

“Whisky. It was yucky.”

Spike laughed. “Tell me more about how irresistible I am.”

She withdrew her hand, untangled the other from his, but before he could take it back, regret his teasing, she'd lifted the blanket enough to swing one leg of him, straddling him, his wrists caught in her hands before he could react.

“H-Hey.”

She was playing a dangerous game and he wasn't sure exactly how aware of it she really was. “Buffy...” he warned.

“Mm?” she hummed, the innocence in her tone exaggerated. She leaned down to press just the hint of a kiss to the side of his neck, right below his ear, her breath tickling his skin and he was desperate for her to sink her teeth in, he knew exactly what to do to make her. “Spike?”

“Bloody hell,” he muttered. His whole body was reacting to her, the way she had slowly started moving her hips wasn't helping, nor the fact that just the thin layer of silk she wore separated her skin from his. He didn't stand a chance. His head was spinning, no drink ever could have the effect on him that she did. “Please.” The word escaped him before he could stop himself.

She lifted her head, her hand cupping the side of his neck, her thumb brushing over his adam's apple. “Please?” she asked. “Are you having trouble... resisting?”

“Oh, you little-” He tried to compose himself as he saw through the game she was playing, though all his self-control went up in smoke when he felt a slight squeeze of her hand.

“What's that?” she asked. “I'm irresistible?”

“Fuckin' hell, you are,” he breathed, the words rushing from his mouth and he knew he shouldn't have been surprised, she held the power always to turn things around on him, he never stood a chance with her if she didn't want him to. And right now, he'd taken his teasing too far.

With her legs situated on either side of him, she'd been able to feel his need right where she sat, growing with each passing moment. She'd acted on impulse, and to prove her point, but now she didn't know how far she could take it. She was strongly aware of the fact that she could have got him to do anything she wanted like this, that he was holding back, still devoted to her.

“Please,” he whispered shamelessly, and before she could ask, “Please don't stop now.”

The depth of his voice, it made her almost certain she was seconds away from seeing that familiar flash of yellow in the dark, and she ground her hips down harder, chasing a different kind of friction before she made the conscious choice to. She loved having him at her mercy, but it was nothing compared to what she knew he could do if he allowed himself to lose control.

“I won't,” she said, the decision made in an instant. She'd finally allowed herself to let him in, to admit that she loved him. He worshipped her. Things were different, this did not need to be something that was changed. And hell, did she want him. “Under one condition.”

He swallowed hard, his eyes wide as he looked up at her, her skin slightly shimmery in the dark, her hair falling over her shoulders. “Buffy, anything...”

She looked up, having just folded another mini dress. "Mm?" "Mother England's colder than that." She blinked back at him, then let her eyes wander at the selection of clothing in front of her. "You're probably right." He huffed. "What do you mean probably?" he laughed. "Grew up there, didn't I?" Buffy rolled her eyes, exchanging a few of the short dresses for jeans and leather trousers, sandals for boots. "How are you getting that Slayer arsenal through security then?" "They're sending a plane," she said. "They said they took care of it." "Oh." He gave a quick nod. "'course they did." She shrugged. "That's what Giles said. But we'll wait for Dawn to come back before we go, so it'll be dark by the time we get to the airport. We can take your car outside, can't we?" "Yeah, 'course, but… you're not bringing her?" "I offered," she said, walking past him to take everything she needed from the bathroom, Spike following and leaning against the door frame. "But she didn't want to miss school. She'll stay with one of her friends." He nodded slowly. "Right. Sure they'll even take me on board?" "If they want me to come." Spike pressed his lips together, the casual certainty in her tone making him feel a way he couldn't quite explain. Where she had been ashamed of him in the past, of what they'd shared, she now was almost possessive, so clearly on his side. And though she was showing him now, there was a fear creeping up inside him that it would all change once she was among people from the council, some of her friends, Giles. With her hot pink toiletries bag in hand, she headed back for her bedroom, but stopped when she saw the look on his face. "Spike?" Her voice snapped him out of it and his eyes refocused, finding hers. "Are you ready?" he asked. She raised her eyebrows. "What's wrong?" "Nothing." His voice rose higher, he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "No bother." "Be honest with me." Her tone was firmer than before, she moved closer to him, though he wasn't sure if she'd noticed. He could smell the sweetness that was so uniquely her, her face close to his. "I-I am," he said, her stare instantly unsettling him. "I mean-" He caved, his shoulders dropping, his arms untangling. "Ah, bloody hell, just worried about coming, is all. I don't want them to treat me the way they always have, and for you to be dragged into that." "Anyone says a bad word to you and I'm out of there," she said, surprised at his doubt. "When I say I love you, I mean it." "And you're gonna shout that from the rooftops, are you?" Her eyes widened. She placed her bag on the side, then one hand each on his shoulders. "I want to shake you sometimes." And she did. He huffed, avoiding her gaze. "C'mon, 's a fair question. All those Slayers, that's not the role model you'll want to be, is it? The Slayer with her vampire boyfriend." She couldn't help but smile at his choice of words. It wasn't like she hadn't had a vampire boyfriend before, but not him. The thought made her feel different regardless, but the certainty in which he spoke had her hopeful that they were headed the right way. "And that's okay," he added when she didn't speak. "I wouldn't want to hold you back." "Stop," she snapped. He did as she told him, waiting. "You are my vampire boyfriend." It was his turn to smile, hesitant, though undeniably relieved. He went to open his mouth, but she shook her head. "And if anyone there has an issue with that, or with you, they can take it up with me. They'd all be in hell if it weren't for you, Big Bad." He sighed. "What if I hadn't… been the champion?" "I still wouldn't hide how I feel about you. I never should have done." Before he could stop himself, his hands found her hips and he drew her in to close the remaining space between them, relaxing into her touch when her hands moved up to cup his face into hers, on her tiptoes until he met her lips with his, for merely a few seconds, then standing up to his full height again. "Well done us," she grinned before leading the way back down the hallway.

After she'd finished packing up her case, she gathered her weapons she wanted to bring, had some food and before they knew, Dawn was back, things were sorted with her, goodbyes said and Buffy found herself in the passenger seat of Spike's car, the sun just setting on the other side of the darkened windows. The airport was neither full nor empty, the Council men that were sent to fly her safely across the ocean did not dare question her firm insistence on bringing Spike, and as soon as they lights dimmed on the plane, Buffy's head sank down on his shoulder, her eyes falling closed. It was like all the tension left her body and she could relax, knowing that the one person that would and could protect her from anything was right there with her if she let her guard down. They touched down London in the late hours of the afternoon, late enough for them to be taken to the Council quarters after sunset. In the car, Buffy caught Spike watching the lights of the city rushing past, and she wondered how much like home it really felt for him at this point. She took his hand into hers. "You okay?" Having zoned out, he snapped back into the backseat of the car, turning his head and giving her hand a squeeze. "Yeah, yeah," he assured her. "All good." "Promise it'll be okay." "Oh, I know," he said, waving it off. With every passing minute, he seemed to adjust at least a little to this situation, despite how much it seemed too good to be true. She smiled, pleasantly surprised. "Good," she hummed. "Did you sleep at all on the plane?" Spike shook his head. "I couldn't," he said. "Council blokes 'n all." "Anyone tries anything and they'll regret it. Surprised they weren't at your feet for saving the world." He rolled his eyes, but the more she told him, the more it was beginning to sink in how much he really had done sacrificing himself. But he was almost certain that there were more than enough people who thought he'd been right to, that it was what he'd deserved, that he owed the world as much. And after all the damage he'd done, he wasn't sure he didn't agree. "You like London?" The question came a surprise. "Love it and hate it," he said. "I'll show you around, eh?" She beamed back at him. "I can't wait."

She took a deep breath before allowing her shoulders to relax, a slight tilt of her body and her head was against his shoulder, her eyes closing for a moment. “He left,” she said, the evident relief in her voice making Spike relax too.

“Good,” he muttered, his arm wrapping around her, his hand squeezing her shoulder and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. He waited for a moment, unsure if he should ask, if she would tell him on her own time, or if really, he had no business knowing at all.

“He's so full of himself,” she whispered, more to herself than Spike, still in disbelief.

Spike huffed out a quiet laugh. “Well, yeah,” he said. “I'm sure you gave him a piece of your mind.”

“Oh, trust me, I did,” she said. “The nerve he has... the reason he wanted to talk to me was to... warn me.” She sighed. “Warn me about you. That I don't know you like he does, that... vampires can't love.”

“Speak for yourself, mate,” Spike mumbled, his other hand tense, though he tried to keep calm. There was no need to be defensive, not with her, Angel was gone, and it was because of her. But the demon in his head was loud and clear, doubtful, desperate.

“You don't have to worry about him. I told him he'll never be even half the man that you are. I was really struggling to not hit him, but I knew it would just make things worse. God, I never want to see him again. He doesn't feel sorry at all for what he put me through either. All I ever did was give with him, he made me so miserable and he still does. And yet, he finds a way to blame me.” She stood up, discarding her jacket as she paced, tried to compose herself. In her head, she still saw the look on Angel's face, so conceited, so sure of himself when he had no reason to be.

“Darling,” Spike started, his eyes following her around the room. “You don't have to worry about him either now.” He wished he'd come out there with her, he wished he'd been able to hit him for making her feel this way.

She stopped, turning to him, brushing her fingers through her hair. “I know,” she said. “I do know that, but... it makes me so angry. The way he spoke about you. The way he treated me and always has.”

“Don't let him get under your skin like that...” he said slowly, though knew that was easier said than done, that he was speaking to her as much as himself. “Let's get back in bed, eh, pet?”

It took a few minutes, but she really did feel right at ease again after having taken a breather, perhaps a drag from Spike's cigarette, and was back under the covers where she should have been with him all along, Her fingertips were drawing god-knows-what into his chest and the feeling of his arm around her, holding her close to his side, she knew she would never be able to let that go again.

It was Spike who broke the silence. “You know, I've been told so many times that my love isn't real. Or at least that it wasn't when I had no soul. But I loved you before. Hell, I loved you before I even realised I did. Some vampires might not be able to love, but... if anything, I feel more strongly since being turned. And even more so since regaining my soul. It's like a flame that was contained when I was human and then someone let the fire rage when I became a vampire. And now, I'm more powerful, I can control that great fire...”

Buffy smiled, curling into his side, her lips pressing to his collarbone. “I like that...” she hummed in between her kisses to his skin.

Spike chuckled. “I like that.”

She giggled, though taken off guard when he wound his fingers into her hair, just to manage a slight tilt of her head to capture her lips with his, unexpectedly passionate, eager, her gasp of surprise trailing into a soft moan.

He chuckled, though there was a growl at the back of his throat and she blinked back at him with wide eyes.

“Didn't mean to catch ya off guard, pet.” The look on her face was too much for him. “But I know you like it.”

Her lips curled into a smile. “So do you,” she said, reaching to run her fingers through his hair, giving a slight tug that made his lids flutter momentarily.

“Fuck, 'course I do,” he sighed.

She loosened her grip, stroking back his hair gently before her hand came down flat on his chest again, her head sinking back down on his shoulder. “You know, even back then... you were the only one I ever could talk to about this... I mean, mostly you seemed to just know...”

It took him a moment to understand what she meant, but he lifted his head, easing her head onto the pillow as he propped himself up with is elbow on the pillow. “About... what?”

Buffy shrugged, looking up at him. She couldn't recall how it felt to not be in love with, looking at him now – it seemed impossible. “Well, you know... what I like...”

He smirked. “I do know what you like.”

She rolled her eyes at his smug expression. “I don't know why you knew and why when I did ask you to do something... it was easy.”

Hearing her speak about him that way, not just him now, but even back then, even if it was retrospective, it made him feel lighter, proud. “It was?”

Buffy nodded. “I never felt like that with anyone before. Somehow, you made it so simple. You do now.”

He reached to brush her hair from her forehead, then cupping the side of her face. “Oh, my love,” he smiled. “You know you ask me to do anything.”

She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. “I know.” She brought her hand up to his, stroking her thumb over his knuckles. “What about you?”

“What about me?” he asked, his voice softer.

“What else do you like? You used to be so focused on me. You are now.”

His brows furrowed. “Buffy, you,” he said. “God, anything with you, pet. You can wink at me and I'll need a cold shower.”

She laughed quietly. “I mean it. You know you can ask me for anything.”

His mind was running wild, not because he thought there was anything in particular that he'd been worried about mentioning, not because she was giving him some kind of idea, but because he couldn't wait for all the things he couldn't wait to do with her now that she was his. “Just you.”

“Liar,” she grinned, her hand moving from his to wrap slowly around his neck, raising an eyebrow as she watched him unable to hide the look in his eyes change, the spark, the fire.

He pursed his lips, smiling, caving. “Right, right, that's no secret though, is it? I love being your bitch and you know it.”

She pulled him closer, pecking his lips, though his hand moving to the back of her neck kept her in place, drawing out the kiss in a way that made her whimper, her knees weaker.

“Mmm, but I love having you at my mercy too. I love knowing how strong you are and what you're capable of while I've got you weak for me. It used to give me such a rush back then. Now I just... I never want you not to trust me.”

She smiled, her face remaining close to his. “I do trust you. Completely.”

He leaned into the touch of her palm when she moved her hand down again, stroking down his arm. “I will never take that for granted. And you will never regret it,” he promised her, the look in his eyes sincere, his voice more firm. “I mean it.”

She nodded slowly, “I know,” she hummed, could sense he was getting overwhelmed. “Now that we're talking about it though, anything else I need to know about doing a vampire?”

He looked back at her, instantly distracted, amused. “Think you've got plenty of experience by now, eh?” he teased.

She gasped in fake shock, shooting him a glare. “Careful.”

“With me, pet,” he clarified with a pointed look. “But no, I don't think there's much to know. I can't help it sometimes, but I don't like... changing. During.” He pressed his lips together. “But when I get lost in the moment, it's hard to... keep the demon away.”

“I get that though,” she said. “And it's okay. It's part of you.”

He swallowed. “I know, but it makes me feel... it takes me out of the moment. Makes me feel... disconnected. You give yourself up, you trust me, you... you're not being the Slayer in that moment, so... I just want to be... me, too. With you. When I change, the demon in me...” He stopped himself.

“What?” she asked.

“I...” He shook his head.

“You can tell me.”

The look in her eyes left him no doubt that he could. But he was scared nonetheless.

“Whatever you want to say, it takes way more than that to scare me away.”

He smiled weakly, bracing himself. “Well, it doesn't always... I don't want it to be part of me. He wants to own you. He's possessive, he's obsessive. He's selfish. He wants to show you off, he wants to fight for you.”

“Spike...”

“In all the ways that I know I shouldn't,” he explained. “So I want to keep that part separate. I mean earlier... when I changed when I opened the door, I nearly...”

She didn't move, didn't interrupt again, she just listened, waited, let him know she trusted him and he could say anything and nothing would change that.

“That part of me had such an urge to not keep that distance, not to be between you and him but to let him see you...”

His voice was strained and she could see the evident control it took him not to change then, saw just a flicker across his face. “Go on,” she whispered, squeezing his arm gently, moving closer to him, could feel how tense he was.

“So that he sees what he can't have, what I did to you that he never can. I wanted so bad to follow you out there to make sure he can't say anything that would turn you against me, so that I could be ready to fight him if necessary. But... I know I'm better than that now.”

When her eyes met his, she could see the hope, the way how he'd laid it all down and would not be able to bear the thought of scaring her away after all.

“Spike?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

No matter how many times he heard it, he would never ever get enough of hearing her say his name, and the way she said it now, with her guard down and a softness he'd rarely ever had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of, he didn't deserve it. "Thought you were sleeping, pet,” he said.

“No,” she said, propping herself up onto her elbow, her face closer to his. “Don't wanna sleep yet.”

“Y'know you can,” he said. “I'll be here. Make sure you and your little bodyguard are alright.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “She missed you too, you know,” she said. “She always liked you.”

Spike chuckled. “I wouldn't say that. She once threatened to set me on fire.”

“She-” Buffy laughed. “I mean, I'm not surprised. She's protective. Like you.”

He raised his eyebrows. “'course I am,” he said.

“I never knew how much.”

The words were quiet, a mumble under her breath, but he'd heard her. “What d'you mean, love?” He tilted his head to the side, watching her closely.

“Dawn told me how you...” She took a deep breath. “When Faith took over before the battle... Dawn told me what you said when you found out that I was gone. That you stood up for me.”

“Oh, that,” he said. “Took me all I had not to go mental on them. Still can't believe all I did was fight Faith. I was ready to take 'em all on.”

Buffy watched the temporary anger in his features, then his face relax when he noticed the look in her eye.

“I knew you wouldn't have wanted me to, no matter what they'd done. Didn't matter. Had to give 'em a piece of my mind though.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“What did you expect?” he asked. “Told you how I felt every chance I got.”

She laughed quietly. “I know. Guess you're not the only one who finds these things hard to believe.” She shrugged. “Think I always thought you did good for me. To see. To show me.”

“In the beginning, yeah.” He shook his head. “But I told you then, I don't just want you. I want you to have what you want. I want to make sure you're safe, that you're happy.”

She blinked back at him. “You want me?” she asked before she could stop herself. “Still?”

Spike's brows furrowed. “Buffy.”

“Spike.” She waited.

He huffed out a laugh. “C'mon. You know the answer.”

“I don't,” she said.

He shuffled to sit up, placing the book at the end of her bed. “What would make you think I ever stopped?”

She felt her cheeks grow warmer. “Well, you used to tell me you were alright and not to worry. When I went on dates. You know, I... I just thought-”

“Buffy.” He shook his head. “Listen. My love for you might have changed when I got my soul, but I never stopped wanting you. Hell, the opposite if anything. Getting my soul showed me how much it meant for you to choose me, to trust me enough. It let me see so much more of you.” His jaw tensed. “Never think I don't want you.” His eyes were wide, the intensity in them keeping her hanging on to his every word. “I just learned to let you take the lead, make your choices.”

Buffy moved up so she was sat up on her knees, without hesitation she reached to cup the back of his neck and brought his face to hers, before he knew it her lips were pressed to his and it took everything he had to maintain his self-control, to not lose himself. 'Boy, would it hurt,' he thought. 'if she changes her mind.' It wasn't like he thought it wasn't worth it, it was what she wanted and that was enough, but he wanted it so badly, even if it meant just this one moment, he'd rather have that than nothing at all. Never would he have forgot the taste of her, but licking her lip, feeling her tongue, it was everything he hadn't thought he'd ever get to have again.

His hands were flat on the bed behind him and he moved closer to her, shifting to cup the back of her head, before he knew he held a fistful of her hair, moaned forcing her lips apart and when he heard a similar sound from her, he was gone, lost in her, there was nothing but the sweet smell of her skin and her hair, nothing but the taste of sugar and the sound of her wanting him.

He stopped himself, ever-scared of the moment where he couldn't. Though he was certain he wouldn't have had to because of her initiation, it was a risk he wasn't willing to take. They'd come so far and he wouldn't put it on the line. He knew he was a different man, but what he'd done to her before he'd got his soul back, it haunted him more than most demonic acts. Nothing in him thought he could do that to her again.

Her eyes opened, wide, surprised. “Are you sure?”

He'd have been out of breath if he could have been. “Don't let this be the only way I can prove it to you,” he pleaded. “I promise you it's not that I don't want you, I just-”

“You need time,” she nodded. She leaned back, sat on her feet.

He moved his hand to cup the side of her face, his thumb smoothing over her cheek. “Don't you?” He pursed his lips. “With this second, well, third chance we've got...” He gave her a small smile. “I want to do this right. You've got to understand... I can't risk any other way. That's how badly I want you.” The way she leaned into the touch of his palm almost broke him. “And you deserve things to be right.”

“Stay with me?” she asked. “Up here.”

His lips parted and he stared at her for a brief moment. Instead of speaking, he went to lie back again, extending his arm across the pillow. Seconds later, she was curled up to his side, his arm around her, her arm over him, her front pressed to his side, her head on his shoulder. It was the unique scent of him and the way he held her in a way that made her feel so well taken care of that she doubted anyone could ever compare. With his coat hung over the chair in the corner and his boots at the bottom of her bed, she hoped he'd fall asleep right beside her. But she wasn't ready yet.

“Thank you for reading to me.”

She could hear his smile in his voice. “My pleasure, pet.”

“You really like poetry.”

He chuckled. “Used to write it, didn't I?”

She opened his eyes, but his were closed, remaining so. “When you were human.”

He hummed. “After too. But I haven't since I... came back.”

“Would you read it to me?” She closed her eyes again.

To her surprise, he stayed quiet for a moment. “I don't know. Never got great feedback,” he said after a while.

He'd confessed his love for her in so many ways so openly, had been devoted to her for so long and yet, she felt if she continued to ask him about his past, about him, it would make him as hesitant as asking him to read to her in the first place had.

“If we do this the right way,” she said quietly. “You have to tell me about you. I mean, I want to know. Who you were. Who you are.”

“Buffy, love...” He opened his eyes, saw her face against his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You know. Just a man who would do anything for you, striving to be what you deserve. And...” It took him a moment to continue, it was different to say these things that she could really hear, that she really took in now. “I'm an open book to you. I'll tell you whatever you want.”

She shuffled slightly, just enough to be able to reach the skin of his throat with her lips, pressing a kiss to his adam's apple. “Tell me you know you deserve me. And better.”

He opened his mouth, but she cut him off.

“And mean it,” she added.

The way her voice sounded smaller, trailed off quietly, it had him torn. She was challenging him and she knew he couldn't let those words stand. “More than anything else, pet...” His voice was strained, his eyes wide, fixated on her.

“So take what's yours.”

Her heart skipped a beat when his eyes flashed yellow, for merely a second, he blinked, then it was gone, his body tense underneath her.

“B-Buffy.” He was hanging on by a thread, but she knew what she was doing. He was terrified, needed her to be sure.

“I love when you let yourself go,” she whispered. “I love when you take what you want, when you take full control.”

He was unprepared for her confession. He knew, of course, the evidence of her writhing in his arms, moaning his name, forever burnt into his memory. But hearing her tell him, coaxing him, he was gone. One more word and she had him.

“Please.”

Within a heartbeat, she was flat on her back, a flash of yellow above her and his hand around her neck pinned her down effortlessly. “Fuck, love,” he growled. “This what you want?” He felt her attempt to press her thighs together, forcing them apart with his other hand sprawled out over her skin and she whimpered, the sound going right to his head. He tutted. “Don't you dare.”

It was one thing to tease her with suggestive glances, touches, words, playful to get her going like he had the morning before. He knew he held the power to drive her out of her mind the same way she did him, but right now, with her at his mercy, it was different. He remembered every single time he'd had her all to himself like this, though now, with his soul, the intensity of the desire he had for her – he could hardly contain it. “Fuck, you have no idea how much I want you.”

Her heart was beating fast, she'd done it now. So much time had passed, she hadn't allowed herself for so long to think about the times she'd allowed herself to be with him and it had taken even longer after he returned with his soul for her to bring back the memories, and, on occasion, even think about what it would be like now, how different he would be. But the man above her was, despite having become someone else entirely, exactly the same when it came to his passion, his desire, his devotion to her. And she wanted more. “Show me, Big Bad.”

He groaned, a slight squeeze of her neck and he released her, just long enough to lower himself further down the bed, his other hand maintaining its tight grip on her thigh, and she spread her legs further for him willingly. “Mm, thank you, pet...”

She was desperate for him, it was beyond her how she'd waited so long and she had not a shred of doubt that this would not change what they were building, if anything, it would bring them closer. She could show him so clearly that she trusted him, because she did.

She gasped when his hands, sprawled out to wander up her inner thighs, spreading them further apart in the process, her body coming alive when his lips made contact with her skin, well-aware it wasn't quite where she needed him.

“Spi-...” Her voice trailed off into a soft whine the moment she felt his lips at her core, covering as much as he could before starting to lick every inch that he could find, slowly building the teasing sensation.

Her fingers took a fistful of his hair, tugging harshly when his lips closed over the most sensitive spot and he started sucking, licking, moaning against her when he heard cries of his name.

Her head fell back on the pillow, her eyes shut tightly, her body torn instinctively between squirming from the way he was overwhelming her and she could barely handle it and begging him for more. She'd almost forgotten just how mean he could be with his tongue, but also just how he could make her feel so so good.

He was drinking her down, hungry for more with every sound she made, every twitch of her thighs, any tug of her fingers in his hair. He never would be able to count the endless times he'd fantasised about this before first having had the honour and after. The moment he released her thigh to let his fingers join his efforts, her leg was on his shoulder, hooking around his head as she pressed herself closer to him, her moans deliciously ringing in his ears. God, just the thought of knowing he'd be able to bury himself inside her nearly made him come undone.

His fingertips were spreading her juices, teasing, playing until he slid two fingers inside her, her hips arching, her lips parting in a long moan. “F-Fuck, I missed this...” The words came out unfiltered, appreciative.

Spike hummed against her wet skin, then slowly lifting his head, his fingers continuing to build a steady pace, exploring, enjoying the way her hips were attempting to take charge of his rhythm. “Oh, yeah, baby?”

“Please,” she panted. “No one does that like you, ohmygod...” He curled his fingers inside her, hit just the right spot and when he lowered his head again, his mouth back on her, she was gone, her thighs trembling, tense and locked around his neck as he eagerly took it all, held her steady where she was, his other hand stroking soothingly up and down her thigh as if his tongue wasn't drawing the harshest circles in contrast, as if his fingers weren't relentless inside her at the same time.

When her breathing slowed again and her body relaxed, he gently placed her leg back on the mattress and untangled himself from her, raising his body until he was above her, could see the expression of pure bliss in her gentle features. Her hair was tousled, wild across the pillow behind her head, her eyes closed, but when she felt his face closer, her gaze locked on his. He couldn't help the smile that played around his lips as he realised she wanted him. No part of her felt fear or discomfort, nor shame. She was putting herself confidently into his hands and he was desperate to keep making her feel good, to show her she could trust him, that he was unconditionally hers.

He felt her smile on her lips when he leaned down to kiss her, his tongue finding hers, making her moan shakily into his mouth. He loved the sweetness of the way she tasted, he knew he would never get enough. Her tongue battled his for dominance, slowly but surely winning but when he felt her attempt to overpower him, he took a hold of both her wrists, lodging his knee in between her legs to cross her plan of flipping him onto his back.

Her eyes were wild as he broke the kiss, staring up at him.

“Impatient, sweetheart?” he teased.

She knew it would have taken a little more strength, a quick moment to catch him off guard, but she was still revelling in the afterglow of pleasure, eager to let him have his way with her. “I want you,” she sighed.

He chuckled, cocking an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

She'd waited for way too long and admitting it outright was freeing, felt undeniably right. There was no one she had ever felt more drawn to, with everything she had. It was the way she knew she would have him by her side unconditionally, that he had chosen her out of all people in a world like this and made the choice to be good, just for her, had been through hell and back, and she knew she could never lie again and say that she wasn't hopelessly attracted to him, the confidence with which he carried himself, the intensity of his eyes and the depth of his voice, his strength, the smugness... god, she didn't know how she'd ever fought it.

“What is it, love?”

Buffy licked her lips. “I just can't resist you,” she said, sincere, unfiltered. “I want you so bad.”

Slowly, he let go of one of her wrists, his hand cupping the side of her face, letting his thumb stroke over her cheek. “Turn 'round for me, pet.”

She hummed, her eyes closing for a moment, leaning into the touch of his palm before she wriggled her other wrist free as he let her sit up. She pulled her silk nightie over her head, watched his eyes drink her in, the wild gaze making her head spin and as he sat back to let her follow his command, she took the opportunity, or at least tried, because as soon as she sensed her intent, he turned her over all by himself, one arm looped around her and with one swift movement, her cheek was pressed against the pillow, his hand sprawled out on her abdomen to lift up her ass, the other coming to wrap around her ankle to pull her knees apart.

“That's not what I said,” he warned. He let his hand wander, up her leg slowly, taking his sweet time, felt her juices on the inside of her thigh, making her whine softly as he pushed two fingers inside her again.

“Fuck,” she whispered. “Spike, please...”

He shuffled up on his knees, holding her in place with his fingers inside her, his other hand going to stroke himself, positioning behind her. “'m right here, pet,” he assured her, would have made her wait longer, drawn out her frustration, but he couldn't deny himself any longer. He had waited too long.

She whimpered when he withdrew his fingers from her again. “Spike, don't make me-...” She was cut off when, with one push of his hips, he filled her, her mouth falling open and her eyes rolling momentarily into the back of her head. The friction was delicious as he stretched her, made her feel all of him all at once and no matter how much she clenched around him, she had to take it, reminded of how good he felt, how he knew exactly what to do to her without her having to ever tell him a single thing.

“Yes, princess?”

“That's so good...”

He groaned, felt the tension in her body when both his hands took hold of her hips, the heat of her so inviting he had to take a moment before starting to move, slowly at first, but the way he wanted to build up his pace went up in smoke with every moan he drew from her and he remembered her condition so focused fully on the way she felt, let her take over his every sense and letting the animal inside drive him, before he knew it having grabbed a fistful of her hair for leverage, his other hand stroking down her back slowly, arching her for him possessively until she was bouncing back at him, taking over the rhythm for him and all he could do was watch her, as eager as him.

It was like everything in between faded away, they fell back into place, back into each other as if no time had passed since the last time he'd taken care of her like this and she was desperately chasing the pleasure for the both of them, moaning loudly when he pulled on her hair and she only realised him trying to slow her down when he bent forward, his body covering hers entirely, his fingers untangling from her curls only to wrap around her neck. “Please, I'm s-so close...” she cried, clenching around him as he restricted the movement of her hips, buried deep inside her.

“D'you trust me, pet?” he rasped.

His voice was husky, his lips close to her ear and she knew without turning that he'd changed.

She shivered, felt the edge of his fangs on her neck. “S-Spike...”

He was holding her tightly, the heat of her enveloping him, the soft moans of his name sinful and god, the smell of her hair, her neck... “I'm gonna bite you, baby, do you trust me?” he groaned.

Her mind was clouded with lust, his hands holding her safely and she realised, there was nothing she wanted more in that moment, did not think for a moment that she could not trust him. “I trust you,” she breathed and then she saw stars, the pleasure of her orgasm ripping through her in perfect union with the burning in her blood that triggered it when he exposed her neck and sank his fangs into her skin. The tingling coursed through her veins, her entire body feeling the kind of satisfaction that could only be compared to an orgasm and she surrendered to the feeling, her hand clutching on to his arm as he drove into her.

The smell of her was nothing compared to the way she tasted, her blood sweet, addictive bliss and he held her as her body shook, growling against her neck when he felt her come undone, squeezing him and he wasn't far behind, his release like nothing he'd ever felt even as he allowed himself no more than a taste, licking the marks as he fucked her slowly to ride out both their orgasms until he collapsed on top of her.

The heaviness of his body was comfort as she lay regaining her breathing, his kisses where he'd claimed her soft, his fingertips stroking up and down her arm gentle and she took a deep breath, breaking the silence after what felt like eternity and no time at all. “What on Earth was that?” she asked, her voice still breathless.

Spike chuckled, shuffling onto his elbow to give her enough space to turn around, desperate to see her face, and yet, unprepared for the look in her eyes when they met his. There had never been so much, well, love in the way she regarded him. “Best shag you ever had?” he smirked.

Buffy laughed. “Well, no question about that,” she said, reaching to cup the side of his face before her hand moved to the back of his neck so she could pull him down for a long kiss, all-consuming and overpowering in a way that made his knees weak. “I've never felt like that when I've... been bitten,” she said.

Her eyes were wide, inquisitive. He adored her. “I wasn't planning to drink,” he told her softly. “I knew it would be... well, unlike anything you've felt before.”

“It was,” she told him before any form of doubt could form in his mind. “Fuck, it felt so good.”

He smiled. “You have no idea what that was like for me. Slayer blood and... well, just.... you.”

“I hope you're not finished with me, Big Bad...”

His lip twitched and he grinned. “Not even close.”

She watched him lick his lips, swallowing hard.

“You want some more of my tongue, pet?”

Just the thought made her press her thighs together.

“Uh-uh...” he warned, the movement not escaping him. “Spread them for me, baby...”

Dawn had offered to come out with her, but she'd told her sister she wanted to clear her head. Earlier that day, in a coffee shop she'd come to like and visit often, a man had asked her for her number. She'd politely declined. It wasn't like she'd never been asked out, nor that she'd never turned somebody down, but it was the first time since Sunnydale. It brought back the image in her mind she'd managed to escape for a few hours.

Spike. How he stood in her darkened kitchen in her mother's house, his hand on the door knob, ready to accept that then had not been the time. “After this is over,-” she'd said, under her breath, unsure of how to continue. He maybe hadn't heard, maybe hadn't understood, hadn't dared to hope in that particular moment. In her own mind, things could not have been more clear. No, then had not been the moment. Things had happened, she needed time. He needed time. But she could see where they were headed, if things evolved slowly, if they continued to find their way back to each other, without her taking advantage, without him pushing, without her using him as a punching bag, without him just wanting her. They'd been headed towards what she never had thought could happen. And then, Angel had taken him from her. He never had intended to wear the amulet, the same way Spike had never hesitated despite the unknown consequences. Her bloody champion. She never would forget the look on his face, the realisation that she recognised him as the champion, when she handed him the amulet confidently. When she'd led him to his death. She'd seen his soul, felt it between their palms, and yet, he'd died not believing that she loved him.

A loud growl and she was knocked from her feet, falling hard onto her back, gasping for the air that was momentarily knocked from her lungs. She blocked her attacker, her eyes staring into a pair of glowing black ones, the demon above her unlike any she had seen before, she remembered vaguely seeing something similar in the book, hairy, though covered in slime, and she tried to free her hand to reach for her dagger, beautiful silver, a present from Giles. She knocked the demon back and it fell against one of the gravestones, though before she could rise to her feet, make her attack, it jumped onto her again, her weapon flying from her hand, her stake rolling to her side, her wrists restricted by the claws of the demon, her neck exposed as it leaned to bite and she could not break free, despite forcing er full strength against the monster above her and behind it, another approached. She tried desperately to trash against the grip, gasping when she heard a shriek and she could move her arms again.

For a moment, she wondered if she'd been scratched, bitten, somehow impacted to hallucinate, as she could have sworn she saw a white head of hair fly by. No, her mind was playing tricks on her. She grabbed her dagger in one hand, the stake in the other, then jumped to her feet and charged at the newly arrived demon, kicking its face and making it tumble, the element of surprise on her side as she trapped it against a tree, without second thought or strategy plunging the dagger into its neck which made it growl loudly in pain and she pulled the weapon out, stepping back before stabbing it again, twice before it fell motionless to the floor.

She spun around, ready take on the other, a blow to her face rendering her off balance and she fell back, a sharp pain against her forehead as she hit the ground, the demon approaching in her blurry vision. Blindly, she searched for the dagger which could not have gone far, but braced herself for impact, attempting to roll away as she pressed her hand against the throbbing feeling on her forehead.

She thought she was about to lose consciousness when the demon screamed, blood bubbling from its mouth and before she fully realised someone actually had fought alongside her, the demon fell forward by her feet and behind him, a blurry figure stepped into view, extending a hand to her.

Between the blood and the dirt, she smelled something else, something familiar. Her mind was toying with her, she was passing out.

He cleared his throat.

She forced her eyes open, saw the defined jaw, the bleach blond hair she'd thought she'd already been able to make out moments before. This was cruel. She stayed awake, yet she saw him right there. God, what would she have given for this to be real? How many times had she dreamt about this? During the night and during the day.

Her heart sank. Sunnydale was buried and yet, it clearly wasn't over. All that loss, all that sacrifice – had it been for nothing?

“I thought we defeated you,” she spat through gritted teeth. “Haven't you had enough?” She winced in pain at her own voice, her head heavy. She wondered if she was bleeding. At least it could not attack her. And she would not be manipulated. “You don't deserve taking his form.” Tears stang in her eyes, from the pain in her head and from the cruel irony. He'd died for nothing. Here the First was, ridiculing his sacrifice and taunting her in her grief.

“Buffy.” A voice she had not heard for months. It hurt, made it feel like her heart broke all over again. Dawn had said that the pain would ease, but this hurt worse than day two.

“I won't be manipulated. Don't waste your non-existent breath.” She had to get to the other Slayers, she had to tell someone. Things were going to start all over again. She was exhausted. She tried to gather her strength. “Leave me, it's not like you can touch me.”

“Buffy.” He sounded more insistent this time, his hand was still there, close enough for her to take and fingers wiggling slightly.

Her eyes widened. The smell of cologne. The dead demon by her side. With all the strength she had left, she forced her body upward enough to reach for the pale hand, a choked out sob coming from her throat when the cool palm wrapped tangibly around her fingers and pulled her gently but steadily to her feet. “No.”

He drew his hand away as soon as she stood somewhat balanced, the corner of his mouth curled into a half-smile. “I'm real. It's me, Slayer. I'm not the First. And I'm ready to explain. I know you have no reason to believe I'm not... something else. But please... I'm not. Let me prove it.”

She took a step back, brushing her hair from her face. “Am I bleeding?”

He pressed his lips together. “You are, pet. Let me take you home.”

“You're not real,” she mumbled. Maybe she was lying there. She turned around to where she'd been on the ground, half-expecting to see herself in the grass. There was only the body of the demon. “You died.”

He couldn't help but chuckle. “You're one to talk.”

The sound made her tremble. Hell, if it wasn't him, it was doing a good enough job for her to enjoy the moment, to pretend. But she had to know better. “How did you find me? Convenient, you showing up when I was about to become demon dessert.”

“Pure luck, love.” He shrugged it off. “Trust me, it took quite some time. Finding you.”

She opened her mouth, but he cut her off, continued speaking.

“But I'll explain it all, answer any question you have.” He leaned forward, though then stepped back. “I-...” He swallowed. His eyes were tired, but fixated on her face. “I just want to make sure you're alright first.”

Buffy pursed her lips. She wanted to wake up. Her guard was up and she was too cautious to get lost in the mirage. As much as she wished it, she knew it could not be true. What if she pretended for just a little while? How bad could it get?

He sensed her hesitation. “Hey.”

She sank to her knees, saw him follow without missing a beat, the leather pooling on the ground around him.

“Look at me.”

She did as he requested. His eyes were so familiar, surely no one could copy them exactly like that, their intensity, their unique depth that had never failed to make her heart skip a beat when she looked directly into them.

“Your last words to me were...” He paused. “You told me you loved me.”

“I-”

“I'm not done. I just want you to know it's me. So we can get you somewhere safe. Don't want you to be go anywhere alone in this condition.” His eyes remained on hers. “The night before, I told you I was terrified because of how we spent the night before. And then we did it again that very night. I left and you said that maybe after the battle...”

She hadn't imagined it. He'd heard it. He'd taken it in. He was here. Spike.

He rose to his feet again, the leather duster shuffling. He held out both his hands and she took them without hesitation that time, letting him pull her up.

“You don't have to trust me. Let me just get you home for now.”

Buffy took a deep breath, knew she should not stare at his face any longer. She could no longer fight it. She deserved this, hallucination or not. “Okay.”