Part One

"Do you really think it's a good idea, mom?"

Buffy and Joyce were facing each other, the kitchen counter between them.

"Why not? You always do something special for your birthday, why wouldn't Spike have the right to a surprise party?"

"I didn't say he didn't have the right, it's just... Parties tend to go wrong in my entourage..." A pause, then: "Could you hand me the sugar?"

"Honey, are you sure you know how to bake a cake?" asked Joyce, more than a little worry apparent in her voice.

"Mom!" was Buffy's indignant reply, "It's easy. Plus you're there and telling me how to do it. I want to do something special for him - God only knows why! - and since YOU had the idea to throw him a party tomorrow, I get to bake the cake! Besides, it's not like he'll notice if it tastes a little weird, it'll probably be his first chocolate cake in over two centuries!"

"206 years," came Joyce's deadpan answer as she handed her daughter the sugar. "He was born April 23, 1769, and was turned 25 years later. And it'd be good if he didn't necessarily want that cake to be his last. It'd be even better if the other guests didn't die from eating it."

"MOM!" was Buffy's outraged response to Joyce's teasing.

"I'm kidding, sweetie, you're doing fine. Just go easy on the sugar..."

"How did you get to know when his birthday is anyway?" Buffy was still number one at changing a conversation subject.

"Since he's been more or less helping you, Rupert got him to relate some parts of his past, for the Watchers' diaries. And I got curious, since Spike rarely talks about it, so I convinced Rupert to let me sneak a bit. I stumbled upon his birthday, realized it was coming, and thought a surprise party would show him that we care."

"YOU care, mom. WE don't."

Joyce hid her smile at her daughter's denial, while Buffy continued: "I still can't understand why either. You never were that nice to Angel."

"Spike never told me he had slept with my 17-year-old daughter, honey."

"I hope not!!! Since we never did! A-and never will!!! But we already covered how Angel wasn't really Angel then..."

"I know, Buffy," interrupted Joyce, "and I know he is a good man, and that he loves you a lot, but first impressions tend to last."

Buffy was still caught on the 'he loves you' part: "Yeah well, he hasn't shown too much love lately if you ask me..."

She realized her mother was looking at her with concern and changed the conversation again, back to its original subject: "You know, the first time you saw Spike, you hit him with an axe! How's that for first impressions?"

"Well, we got to talk a lot since then. Besides, you told me yourself that he had changed."

"Yeah, he stopped trying to kill me and all my friends," was Buffy's muttered reply.

Joyce simply ignored her. She knew Buffy liked having Spike around, but she also knew she'd never willingly admit it. Not that Spike was any better. Sometimes, when he stopped at the gallery for a chat, he would stare at a picture of Buffy on her desk and zone out for ten minutes without realizing it. She had tried to get him to admit that he loved her daughter, but he always dodged the issue.

How weird was that: a mother playing matchmaker with her daughter and a vampire.

That's life on the Hellmouth for you!

But Buffy was older now, and for some reason, she never could date mortal guys for long.

I guess it's a little hard to hide her sacred duty from them...

Joyce knew how lonely life could get sometimes, and she had seen that sad look on her daughter's face more often lately. Her reasoning was simple: if Buffy couldn't find a mortal she trusted enough to let on the secret, Spike was the best choice for her. He already knew, was even a part of it, and although it may be crazy, Joyce trusted him.

"How many eggs again?"

Buffy's question penetrated Joyce's thoughts and she turned to face a flour-covered Slayer. She tried not to laugh, but the giggles escaped nonetheless.

"Need any help?"

*****

A couple of hours later, a showered Buffy was quietly patrolling one of Sunnydale's many cemeteries. Spike, on the other hand, was very noisily patrolling said cemetery.

"Could you be more obvious Spike? I'm sure Dru can't hear you in Brazil."

"That's because I don't want her to, pet. But it'd be nice to bug my bastard of a sire though. Think I'll wake him up if I sing louder?"

"First, he's probably not sleeping in the middle of the night. Second, L.A.'s a little far, and third, if you don't shut the hell up, Spike, I swear, truce or no truce, I'll stake you!"

By the end of her rant, Buffy was screaming to be heard over Spike's awful singing. It naturally got the attention of a newly risen vamp who didn't register her last words before literally jumping on said stake, which she had been brandishing angrily at Spike. Not missing a beat, the blond vampire finished his song and answered her: "Your mum would never forgive you, Slayer!"

Knowing he was right - and hating him for it - Buffy stomped her foot on the ground and turned around in time to miss the smug grin she knew was on his face.

Remind me again why I put up with him and his gorgeous cheekbones? Oh, right, BECAUSE of his gorgeous cheekbones, and sexy accent, and cocky attitude... You need help, Summers!

Buffy was tempted to leave him to finish patrolling and go home, but she had promised her mother she'd find a way to get Spike to the Summers' house the next evening for the surprise party. So instead of angrily walking out on him, she forced herself to calm down and resume her patrol.

She was soon deeply lost in her thoughts, discarding excuses for inviting the aggravating vampire as soon as she found them. She didn't want him to be suspicious and somehow find out about the party, and she sure as hell didn't want to give him any ideas that would boost his already huge ego, which meant not inviting him for anything that had to do with herself. That didn't leave much: either pretend that Giles wanted to see him - but then he'd ask why they were not meeting at the library -, or say her mom had something to show him. Buffy could only hope he wouldn't wonder why she had that 'something' at home and not at the gallery, as he was bound to think it had something to do with art.

She had just come to a decision when Spike startled her out of her thoughts: "There's nothing wrong with my singing, Slayer."

"Everybody hates your singing, Spike," came Buffy's brisk answer. "Even that vamp preferred to commit suicide rather than have to hear you!"

Spike couldn't help but chuckle. She hadn't even blinked an eye when it had happened and he hadn't been sure if she had registered it or not.

"Alright, pet, I'd say we've patrolled enough. I'll see you tomorrow," Spike said, effectively changing the subject.

He had started towards the cemetery gates when Buffy stopped him: "Right, tomorrow. Oh, wait! Mom wants you to come over tomorrow, said she had something she wanted you to see."

Nice attempt at casual, Summers. How come I lied to mom for years and I can't lie to Spike convincingly?

But she was worrying for nothing, because Spike wasn't really paying attention, applying himself at lighting his cigarette in spite of the wind.

"Alright, luv. Tell Joyce I'll stop by around 8."

"Will do," was the Slayer's answer, but Spike was already gone.

Part Two

"Where do I put those, Buff?"

Xander was carrying an armful of blown multicolored balloons, desperately trying not to drop any.

"Put them on the couch, we'll hang them as soon as we're finished with the streamers," replied the Slayer, who was precariously perched on top of several phonebooks stacked on a chair, so that she could access the ceiling and tack the colorful ornaments.

Willow, Xander, Oz, and Buffy had been decorating the house - and more specifically the living room - for the major part of the afternoon. They had streamers, balloons, posters saying 'Happy Birthday Spike!', confetti all over the furniture and the carpet - Willow had gotten carried away -, party favors, party hats, and even a small blackboard Oz had found in the basement, along with colored chalk. He had locked himself in Buffy's room and had drawn on it for the better part of an hour, before taking it back down and setting it in front of the TV. At the Scooby gang's questioning looks, he had simply shrugged and said: "The chalk was talking to me," to which Buffy had replied: "I warned you. Didn't I tell you colored chalk was manufactured by Lucifer himself?"

He had grinned at her and gone in the dining room to help Xander blow the balloons, leaving his girlfriend and the Slayer wondering where he had learned to draw such convincing portraits.

For on the blackboard was a perfect rendering of Spike, cocky grin and mischievous glint in the eye included.

*****

Joyce and Giles had spent the afternoon in the kitchen, taking care of last-minute food preparations while chatting amiably about Sunnydale's resident fighting-for-the-side-of-good vampire. They were preparing an alcoholic punch - the Slayerettes were all adults now, and a little alcohol wouldn't kill anybody (hopefully!) - when it occurred to Joyce that the guest of honor might prefer another kind of drink. She mentioned it to the librarian, and he suggested that Buffy could go to Willie's and get a supply of blood.

"Good idea. We'll save the second punchbowl for alcoholic blood. Or blood-laced alcohol, which ever he prefers," Joyce added with a smile.

Carrying serving bowls filled with chips and crackers to set them on the small table in the living room, she inspected the decorations, making sure everything would be ready on time. The mere number of balloons and other colorful ornaments in the living room left her gaping for several seconds before Giles shook her out of it by practically running into her.

"Well... It-it's colorful..." was the Watcher's comment when he registered his surroundings.

"I like it!" Joyce happily exclaimed, setting her burden down and straightening one of the posters.

"Bloody ridiculous if you ask me!"

Willow and Xander hid their grin at Buffy's use of Spike's favorite expression.

"He'll love it, honey," Joyce assured her.

"Oh yeah, I can SO see Spike wearing a party hat!" the blonde girl sarcastically replied. "Who's idea was this again?" she playfully asked.

Joyce simply smiled, before asking her daughter: "Buffy, the sun will be down in about an hour, and Rupert and I thought you could run to Willie's and get some blood for Spike's drinks."

"Sure," Buffy replied, jumping down from the chair. "I'll be back in half an hour," she added, grabbing her mom's car keys and leaving by the front door.

*****

"So, is Deadboy coming?" asked Xander when Buffy had returned with enough pig blood to last several days.

"I called, left a message. He got Whistler to call me back and tell me there was too big an evil for Angel to skip town. Coward! I'm just not sure whether he doesn't want to see me, or Spike. Or both."

"Well at least that way they won't try to kill each other all night," wisely replied Willow.

"True. And before you ask, Xand, Cordelia isn't coming either. Guess that leaves only Spike for your verbal sparing matches!" Buffy teased.

She hadn't really invited Cordelia, mostly because the tension between them was not resolved, but she had guessed that if Angel had come, Cordy would have followed.

"As if I care..." muttered Xander.

Willow decided a change of subject was in order: "I like your dress Buffy. Is it new?"

The Slayer actually blushed a little at the comment. She would never admit it, but she had bought the long-sleeved, knee-length, purple velvet dress specially for Spike's birthday party. She knew she looked good in it - Xander's gaze was a dead giveaway - and she secretly hoped Spike would notice. And appreciate.

"Yeah, I bought it last week," she casually answered.

She was saved from any more prying questions by Joyce's return in the living room with the cake. The sun had set a few minutes ago, so Spike was bound to arrive soon, and everything was ready. Giles turned off all the lights, except for one in the kitchen, where Joyce would stay, making sure Spike entered by the kitchen door, while everyone else hid in the living room.

They didn't have to wait long.

"Hello, mum!" came Spike's cheerful greeting from the kitchen.

"Spike! Hi! Nice of you to come by. There's this thing I thought you'd like to see. It's in the living room," Joyce said, motioning for him to precede her.

As soon as she hit the light switch, the gang sprung from behind the couch and table, happily screaming: "SURPRISE!!!"

If vampires could die from heart attacks, Spike would probably have turned to dust right there. As it was, he switched to game-face and took a fighting stance before registering what was going on. When he finally did, it took a whole minute and a light punch from Buffy before he stopped gaping at everyone.

"Happy birthday, Spike!" said Joyce from behind him, when she was sure he would hear her.

Buffy and Willow joined her, softly kissing him on the cheeks at the same time. Then the guys clapped hands with him, adding to the wishes.

Unbeknownst to Spike - nothing really registered yet anyway - Oz was happily taking pictures, making sure they would remember the vampire's stunned look for years to come. It took a while, but Spike finally came back to earth and started grinning like an idiot. There were tears in his eyes when he turned to Joyce: "Y-you did this for me? Nobody ever threw me a party!"

"Well you're our friend, and I think you deserve one," Joyce replied, taking him in a hug.

Part Three

Three hours later, Xander and Oz were involved in a staring match - that the werewolf was easily winning -; Willow was playing referee but giggling more than anything else; Joyce and Giles were back in the kitchen preparing yet another bowl of alcoholic punch; and Buffy and Spike - who had completely abandoned the pretense of mixing blood with the alcohol a couple of bottles ago - were in the backyard, enjoying each other's company. Or not.

"I know you like me, Schlayer."

"Define 'like'. If you mean I like kicking your ass, I'd say it's a definite YES," Buffy replied.

They had gone outside to fight after a particularly harsh comment from Spike, but had soon given up when they had realized their punches missed the mark more often than not, and their kicks resulted in them falling on their butt. They had thus resigned themselves to simply insult each other, with eerily good results in spite of the high ratio of alcohol running in their blood.

The fresh air had somewhat sobered Buffy though, and the direct insults had been replaced by subtle jabs to which Spike, who continued to drink straight from a Jack Daniel's bottle and was becoming more and more drunk - and less and less coherent -, replied cheerfully.

"You know, I really should stake you while you can't defend yourself."

"But you won't, pet. And you know why?" asked Spike, leaning towards her to whisper conspiratorially, "Becausche you love to hate me too bloody musch!" he finished in a fit of giggles.

"Oh, get over yourself, already!" was Buffy's exasperated reply. Her world was spinning, and she had these warm fuzzy feelings in her stomach, but she had stopped drinking before her speech could become slurred.

Spike's reply was cut short by Joyce's appearance in the doorframe: "Don't you think it's about time our guest of honor opened his gifts?"

"Aye mum! We'll be rrrriiiiight in!" the drunk vampire exclaimed, gesturing to her with the now empty JD bottle.

"She's MY mom, Spike. Not yours!" Buffy protested while making her way back in the kitchen.

"Well I like your mum, Schlayer. So I aschked her to be my mum too. And she said yup," he proudly stated.

"Oh brother!"

Spike erupted in another fit of giggles: "I guesch I am now! But I don't think I wanna be your brother. Cuz then, luv, it wouldn't be proper to kisch you."

"Spike, you're not making any sense. Now, get your cute butt in the living room while I run upstairs and fetch your gift," ordered the Slayer.

"Aye-aye, Cap'n!" replied the blond vampire, squaring his shoulder and stumbling towards the living room where everyone was waiting.

*****

"Would a fly without wings be called a walk?"

Willow's question greeted Buffy has she returned downstairs, carrying a wrapped box. The redheaded witch had just found a plastic fly in her drink - graciousness of Xander - and her alcohol-addled brain had come up with the weird question.

"I don't know pet, why don't you aschk it?" was Spike's slurred reply.

Oz had kept his head clear, but true to himself, he commented: "I think it's one of those questions we'll never have an answer for, like why sheep don't shrink in the rain."

"And where socks disappear to in the drier," Joyce said.

"Or how they get the deer to cross at that yellow road sign?" added Giles.

"Giles! I'm in shock! You made a funny!" Xander exclaimed, clutching a hand to his heart as if it had stopped.

"Alright kids, let's be serious here. I believe someone has gifts to open," interrupted Buffy, before the situation could degenerate any further.

Spike cheerfully sat cross-legged on the floor, in the middle of the living room, and applied himself at the tedious task of opening his gifts without tearing the wrapping paper, while Oz took more pictures. After a while, everybody got impatient and urged him to hurry, which he did with as much enthusiasm as he had shown carefulness just earlier. In a matters of minutes, he was surrounded by his favorite art piece from Joyce's gallery; an old volume about beliefs and legends on vampires (from Giles); a 3-foot-high stuffed Count Duckula (from Willow and Oz); a pair of black sunglasses and a bottle of self-tanning lotion (from Xander, of course!); and a new red silk shirt, Buffy's gift as a replacement for the one she had ripped in one of their training sessions.

"Thanks a bloody big whole bunsch, everybody! You're the bescht mates a vamp can have!" the vampire's slurred thanks came, as the tears that had been building in his eyes finally spilled. Thankfully, he was too drunk to realize he was crying in front of humans, and he hugged and kissed everybody in his delight.

Then came another tedious task: the challenge of cutting the chocolate cake in equal portions. Joyce had put three candles in the shapes of a 2, a 0 and a 6 - something to do with not having enough chocolate for a bigger cake! -, so it wasn't too hard to blow them out. Nobody died from it, Spike found it delicious, Oz took more pictures of a chocolate-covered Spike, and Buffy got to throw her mom's teasing back at her.

*****

Soon after, Giles, Xander, Willow and Oz left, as it was getting pretty late. Spike said goodnight to Joyce, thanking her profusely for the party and gift, and started towards his car when Buffy stopped him: "Where do you think you're going, mister? There's no way you can drive to your apartment in your condition!"

"Cuz you think you're schober enough to drive me home, Schlayer?"

"He's right, Buffy, I don't think any of us should be driving tonight," Joyce remarked.

"Then I'll walk him home," Buffy said. When she saw her mom's skeptical look, she added: "It's not far, mom. And don't worry, if we're attacked, I'll ask Spike to sing, that'll chase them off!"

Spike burst in laughter: "And they'll find schtakes to schuicide themschelves on!"

"Alright, but I think you should stay there for the night. Besides, Spike'll probably need some aspirin when he'll wake up!" Joyce added with a grin.

As soon as Buffy had packed some clothes and gathered Spike's gifts in bags they could easily carry, she kissed her mother goodnight and more or less grabbed Spike, who was threatening to fall at any moment. The walk to his apartment wasn't long on a normal night, but it took them twice the time it usually did because Buffy had to constantly pick Spike up after he stumbled over his own feet. After a few attempts, she found a way for him to lean on her, arm around her waist, so that he couldn't fall, and that she could hold all the bags.

Part Four

They made it without any encounters of the vampire kind, but Buffy realized it would be a whole new problem to get Spike's keys, unlock the door, and get all the bags, Spike, and herself inside without breaking anything. Thankfully, Spike kept his door key in his leather duster's pocket, which was easily reachable. Grabbing Spike around the waist with her left arm, she transferred all the bags to that arm long enough to unlock the door and push it open. Taking the keys between her teeth, she took some of the bags back with her right hand, and nudged Spike awake, urging him inside. As soon as the door was closed behind them, she set the bags aside and collapsed on the door, which resulted in Spike crashing on her and taking her down with him.

"Thank God I didn't drink as much as you did, or we'd be sleeping outside!" muttered the exhausted Slayer from her sitting position, her back on the door.

"I'm not drunk, Schlayer!" came Spike's muffled reply from the recesses of Buffy's bunched up dress.

"Yes you are, Spike. Now, get up and go to bed, I'm too tired to carry you anymore."

"Don't wanna... I'm quite comfortable here," he replied, his head still buried in her dress, resting on her thighs. He DID look comfortable, and was actually purring like a cat. But whether it was from his position on her legs, or because of the alcohol, she couldn't say, and didn't really want to know.

Buffy sighed, then tried to stand up, but found that she couldn't, mainly because of the dead-weight resting on her upper-legs.

"Spike, I can't get up if you don't get up. Now, move and I'll help you to bed. I can assure you that it'll be more comfortable than the floor."

"Only if you're there with me, Buffy," he replied without even opening his eyes.

His use of her name shocked her. It wasn't the first time she heard him call her by her given name, but she could count the times he had done so on one hand, and he usually did it when he was really mad at her.

Realizing he hadn't moved, she decided to play along, only to get him to release her: "Okay, hon, we'll go to bed together, but you have to stand up first."

Incredible as it seemed, he was up and steady on his feet - and actually helping her up - before she could blink an eye. Before she could protest, he swept her in his arms and crushed his lips to hers.

*****

Buffy was lost as soon as she felt his soft lips on hers. She barely registered him picking her up and making his way to the bedroom, solely concentrating on the feelings the kiss was awakening in her. It never occurred to her that mere minutes before, he had seemed too drunk to stand, let alone carry her. All that mattered were his cool lips on her hot skin, his strong arms around her waist, his whispered nothings in her ears.

When he finally put her down near his bed, she was breathing heavily and clinging to him as if the world would slide away if she lost contact. He bent his head down again, but stopped before their lips met, willing her to make the move. Buffy lifted her gaze to look at his eyes, silently asking him what was going on.

"I love you, pet," Spike whispered, his drunken demeanor of a few moments before completely gone.

It was all Buffy needed. She lifted herself on her tiptoes, effectively crushing her lips on his. Finding herself needing for much more, she started to pull on his silk shirt, getting it out of his pants. When that was done, the Slayer brought her hands up on his chest, lightly caressing him with the tip of her fingers while unbuttoning the shirt.

Slowly, Spike brought his hands up her sides to her hair. It was totally crazy, but he didn't want to scare her by moving too fast, afraid that she would go if he made the smallest mistake. He wanted her too much to risk her leaving, and he was ready to do just about anything to prevent that.

Just as slowly, he ran his fingers in her silken hair, taking the barrettes off and setting them down on the bedside table behind him. Caressing her ear with his fingers, he broke the kiss off, trailing butterfly kisses up her jawbone to her other ear, while his other hand slowly started to unzip her dress.

"Did I tell you how much you're beautiful in that dress, luv?" he whispered in her ear.

The small breath of his words in her ear sent shivers down her spine, and Buffy hugged him more tightly, her hands having found their way inside his shirt. He wasn't wearing anything underneath it, for once, so she could place soft kisses on his smooth bare chest.

"I kinda hoped you'd like it..." she shyly whispered.

"Really?" asked a surprised Spike. "Well I do. Very much."

"Spike? Where did the drunken vampire I had to carry home go?" Buffy demanded, resting her cheek on his cool chest, so that Spike's chin was resting on top of her head, still hugging him tightly.

The vampire had the decency to blush - as much as vampires can blush anyway - and softly chuckle before answering: "You sobered me up pretty effectively!" A beat, then softly: "I'm sorry, baby, I'm afraid I'm a manipulative old vamp, and getting worst with time."

Buffy smiled: "It's ok. You ARE incredibly heavy though!" she teased. Opening her eyes, her gaze fell on something that caught her attention. Hastily pushing his shirt and duster off his shoulders and down his arms until they fell on the floor, she traced the contour of it with her finger.

"When did you get that?" she asked, breaking her inspection of his chest to look at his eyes.

"A little before I got turned, actually," he shrugged. "Most of the time, I forget it's even there..."

Slowly, Buffy undertook the task of kissing every inch of Spike's tattoo of the sun. When she was done, she continued down a little, until she found his nipple. Teasing him, she ran her tongue around it, not touching it, until a soft growl emanated from his chest.

"Pet, if you're going to tease me like that, you might not like the consequences!" he warned.

"Spike. Shut. Up. And. Love. Me," she replied, kissing his hard chest between each word.

With a low growl, he lifted her chin up until he could crush his lips on hers for a searing kiss, hastily pushing her dress down her arms until it fell in a heap at her feet. Picking her up, he tenderly placed her on the bed, lying over her and never breaking the kiss. Then, he succeeded in somewhat taking control of his raging hormones and softened the touch of his lips, while his hands caressed every available inch of her skin. He had waited so long for this, to hear her say those words, there was no way he would mess this up.

*****

Slowly, Spike lifted himself on his arms, instantly missing the contact with her warm skin and her soft lips. Putting his weight on one arm and shifting beside her, he ran his other hand along her side, eliciting shivers and small moans from the blonde beauty beside him. She looked incredibly gorgeous, only wearing a white satin bra, matching underwear, and her high-heeled shoes, her eyes closed tightly and her lips barely opened, still breathing fast from the kiss.

Kicking his own shoes off, he knelt down at her feet and unclasped her shoes, taking them off one at a time and massaging her feet before caressing up her calves. When he reached her knees, he stopped to place kisses on the back of them, earning a gasp from Buffy. Looking up, he flashed her one of his trademark cocky grins - which made her blush - before continuing the careful examination of her body with his strong hands.

When he reached her upper thighs, he moved his hands to her hips, resting them there while he placed soft kisses on her hard stomach. He made his way up, licking a trail from her belly button, until he reached the valley between her breasts. Only then did he move his hands up and underneath her, unclasping her bra and slowly sliding the straps down her arms.

"Spiiiike..." Buffy moaned, "didn't you tell me something about being a tease?"

She was breathing heavily and could actually hear her heart beating. He was literally driving her mad with desire, and she wasn't sure - as much as she was enjoying this - that she could let him do this for much longer without resolving to brute force.

He kissed her hard, as much to shut her up as to taste her lips again, while discarding her bra. Not bothering to reply, Spike went back to his ministrations, kissing down her collarbone before finally giving his attention to her breasts. While his tongue started to tease her left nipple, his hands caressed the underside of her full breasts, shifting from feather-like touches to hard massages that left the Slayer panting.

*****

Buffy's fingers were intertwined in his hair, her hands keeping his head down on her. All rational thoughts had long left, leaving only one clear wish in her head: she wanted him in her, surrounding her. All she could hear was her own breathing and moaning, and Spike's soft growls and purrs.

Fast as only a Slayer or a vampire could be, she rolled them over, firmly planting her knees on the bed each side of his abdomen. Then she applied herself at making him feel how she felt, making his grin at her swift actions change to a lazy smile, down to a small pout when she eluded his attempts to bring her up to kiss him.

"You've been driving me mad, Spike. You'll have to pay for that," Buffy stated.

"What do you say I make amends by making love to you until you forget why you're mad, luv?" was his soft reply.

She made a show out of pretending to consider it before saying: "Deal!" and attacking his belt and pants' button-fly. He rolled her to her back beside him and took her panties off before standing to get rid of the rest of his clothes. Then he lay back beside her, hugging her tightly and kissing her deeply, while she pushed him onto his back and resumed her previous position, straddling him.

Lightly rocking against his hard cock, Buffy showed him just how much she wanted him. She was already dripping wet, and neither of them could wait much longer. Grabbing her hips between his hands, he slowly slid her down on his shaft, stopping when he heard her gasp sharply. Looking up at her, he silently asked for her permission before thrusting to the hilt in her tight, hot cunt.

When he was sure he wouldn't turn to dust from the sensation alone, he slowly started to thrust his hips up, until Buffy caught the rhythm and joined him. She was absently drawing patterns on his chest, her eyes firmly closed and her lips opened, panting. Needing to feel her against him, Spike moved his hands to her back and pulled her down until her breasts were pressed on his chest, and her lips were firmly crushed on his.

Rapidly, the kiss grew more passionate, as their thrusting sped up. Spike rolled them over, sneaking a hand between them to stroke her clit, until Buffy broke the kiss to moan his name, her body shivering. Spike thrust a few more times deeply in her, and his release came too, her name on his lips.

They lay there for what seemed an eternity before either of them found the strength to move. Rolling on his back again and pulling Buffy against him, Spike ran his fingers in her hair before asking: "Are you alright, luv?"

"Never been better!" was Buffy's whispered reply. "I love you, Spike."

"I love you too, Buffy. You're the best birthday gift I ever had," he answered, before showing her exactly how much he loved her, over and over again.

Epilogue

"Just one thing, Spike."

"What's that, luv?"

"Don't tell my mom we slept together. She's still mad at Angel about that one!"

End

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