Taken from “Intervention.” Joyce never died of an aneurysm. She’s still in Sunnyhell, alive and kicking. Obviously, you need to ignore that the episodes after “Blood Ties” up until “Intervention” ever happened. Oh, and the whole BuffyBot situation is completely nixed. The damn thing is evil, and a happy sunny Buffy bothers the hell out of me, although it certainly is an improvement on Bitch Queen Slayer Buffy. And yes, I know that from the way I’m writing, it seems as if Spike’s kidnapping happened right after Dawn’s runaway. Deal with it. :D

Out of My Head
... part XI ...
.:Bad Buffy:.

Sigh. Why did he have to go and do that now? Now of all times, when she’d just started to get used to their... situation? < Dammit, Spike > she thought, craning her neck slightly to look up at the smooth, porcelain beauty of his face. < Why’d you have to make this all complicated now? >  

It wasn’t that she didn’t care about him -- she did care about him. It was obvious in the things she did with him, and besides, it was too exhausting to keep denying it. The playful teasing, the “couple fun” innuendoes, and days ago, when Riley had stabbed him and dislocated his shoulder. She’d spent an entire hour with him one time, no hanky-panky -- just taking care of him, and getting him used to rotating his shoulder again. And they’d had fun. They’d poked and teased at each other, talked and laughed... she’d seen a side of Spike that nobody had ever been allowed to see. She’d seen him happy.

But what if this was just a lead? What if he didn’t really love her? Maybe he’d sensed that she was awake, and had said that to throw her off? What if he was just gonna keep on with this little act, until she’d completely fallen victim to him, leaving her free for him to kill?

And it wasn’t just that. She didn’t love him back. She didn’t know what she felt for him, but it sure as hell wasn’t love. Loving someone was of the bad, as far as Buffy Summers was concerned. She loved her father, and the big jerk had left them in the divorce anyway, refusing to even talk to them anymore. Loving Angel had meant having to kill Angel. Then getting him back. Then losing him all over again when he left “for her own good.”

Please.

Loving people other than her own mother, Dawn, and the Scoobies was a bad thing. Her friends and Giles had stayed with her for five years already, and her mother and Dawn, fake memories of the latter or not, had always been a part of her life.

She was not gonna let Spike in.

Besides... If she didn’t love him, then he couldn’t leave her.

Except that now she knew he was in love with her. She was infinitely sure that she didn’t love him back... maybe... but this provided a difficult situation. Could she really let Spike stay around , knowing that he loved her, and not do anything about it? Was that fair to him?

Then she realized -- he hadn’t meant for her to hear. If he’d wanted to tell her he loved her, then he would’ve said so, out loud, face-to-face. He’d made sure to say it when he thought she was asleep. That way, he’d hoped she wouldn’t hear him.

Well, this could be a good thing. Maybe it meant that he didn’t really love her. Especially since he’d had the cowardice to tell her when she slept.

Or wait... maybe it was just because... hello, obvious here. Spike: William the Bloody. The Big Bad. Evil. Soulless. Vampire.

She was his complete opposite. Spike happened to be a well-respected member of the Undead Citizens of Sunnydale. If it got around that he was in love with the Slayer, then he’d probably be killed. Or there would at least be attempts made on his life.

Then again, Spike was never a very conventional vampire. He’d always broken the rules. He was breaking them right now, simply by being with her. If he couldn’t even follow through with habit and allow it to get around that he was even more of a traitor to his kind by being in love with her, then what the hell was the point?

She was starting to suspect that the very point was that he was ashamed of his feelings for her.

And that cut worse than if he’d been planning to gut her in her sleep all along.

She couldn’t work with this. She had to find a way to turn him off of her. And she would do anything -- anything -- to do it.

She awoke to the sensation of soft, cool lips trailing the shell of her ear, and an equally cool hand running over her thigh. She mumbled something softly and whimpered. Opening her eyes, Buffy looked up and was met with dancing, sparkling blue eyes. Spike grinned, then ducked his head, moving his mouth against her cheek, her chin, and her throat.

He’d woken up next to her, and the better part of an hour had been spent watching her face as she slept. Spike didn’t know how he’d managed not to revert into Sex-Starved Animal Spike right then and there, but he was semi-grateful. He had the feeling that if he hadn’t, he’d have been rolled right out the window by now. He hadn’t been able to resist after a while, and his body began moving of it’s own volition, beginning to kiss and touch her.

It was surprising how incredibly arousing it was to see Buffy wearing something of his in her sleep. He was pretty sure she had nothing under there.

She better not have. He hated those damn bras of hers.

Oh, shit, and speaking of windows... He glanced up toward the deadly entrance, noticing that the shades had already been drawn shut, save for a little slit where a tiny stream of light entered. He hoped to God that the sheet was enough to cover his highly-flammable areas.

Which was pretty much everything.

He turned his attention back to Buffy, who was gazing up at him. Her face was slightly unresponsive, and she had a sort of glazed look in her eyes that made her look all the more drowsy. Drugged, actually, but he knew better than to say that to her. He placed his hand on her belly and returned to worshipping her skin with his lips.

Okay, so she wasn’t gonna be turning him off of her anytime soon. This was an extremely good thing to wake up to. Sort of like it had been measured out. She was the right amount of sleepy, and Spike had just the right amount of sensual emanating off of him and into her with each hungry brush of his lips. Ooh, and now tongue. Hey, tongue. Buffy turned over and tilted her face toward his, intent on capturing said tongue in her mouth. She was suddenly aching to feel his lips on hers, to feel his hands roaming her body. It felt so wonderful when he touched her, and worrying about last night was too big a job for the moment.

She just wanted him.

Spike eagerly complied to her very clear request for lip-wrestling, pressing his mouth tightly against hers and pulling her close. Buffy’s arms slid around his waist, and her lips kissed back desperately, teasing and biting at his mouth until Spike was growling and overcome with want. He rolled her onto her back and leveled his tight, lithe body over hers, pressing her down gently into the mattress.

It helped immensely that Spike wasn’t a bulging, rolling heap of muscle as his Sire and Riley had been.

“Buffy,” he muttered softly between kisses, sliding his hands slowly along her legs. Buffy moaned softly as Spike pressed against her, all-too-clearly feeling his want and need, hardening further with each passing second. As one hand grasped her waist firmly, he allowed the other to sneak under the long, black T-shirt, moving quickly up her side from her nearly bare hip (save for the strap of her panties) up her bare belly to the bottom swell of her breast. Cupping the soft globe of flesh, his index finger and thumb affixed themselves on her nipple and gently squeezed, tugging on the tender nub. Spike’s lips covered her own, swallowing the loud moan she gave at the pleasing, almost painful stimulation.

One leg wrapped around his own, and her bare foot gently nudged his rear, tugging him closer to her. Her sneaky little fingers grabbed at the hem of his shirt and lifted up, pulling the offending garment over his head. Spike echoed her actions, nearly tearing the shirt in his fervency to get the bloody thing off of her. Almost as soon as it had been thrown across the room, probably never to be found until six months in the future, he dove headlong into her naked breasts, attaching his lips to the nipple his fingers had favored before and sucking fiercely. Buffy managed to clap her hand over her mouth before she let out a scream to wake the dead (and undead alike) and grasped at the back of his head with the other, pulling him closer and closer to her.

She couldn’t get enough of him.

Which was probably going to be very bad, considering she still had to tell him that he needed to back off and she couldn’t love him.

< God, Buffy, you are such a damn hypocrite. You don’t want to be in a relationship with him, but you still can’t get enough of him touching you? Bad Buffy! Bad, bad Buffy! >

Stupid voices. She willed them to shut up. < Go away. Fooling around time with Spike. Fight later. >

Against their will, Buffy pushed the voices into the very back of her mind, far, far away where she could forget about them. If she couldn’t hear the voices, they weren’t really there.

She wondered momentarily if being around Spike too much was making her become a slightly less severe Drusilla.

For now, she pushed herself close to the vampire’s searching mouth. Suddenly frantic for the full sensation of his body against hers, her fingers moved between them, jerking his jeans apart with one sharp yank. Spike, through the haze in his mind, vaguely realized what she was doing and conceded, allowing her to shove the jeans down his strong legs. He pulled away from her breast and forced his mouth against hers once again as he kicked his pants off of his feet and onto the ground.

< Naked Spike! > the working part of Buffy’s brain informed, her inner self squealing in childish glee. She could feel his rock-hard erection pressing firmly into her thigh, so, so close to her aching pussy, and her arousal was doubled instantly. She was craving him, and it was a wonder that she hadn’t yet ripped off her panties and ridden him into oblivion yet.

Luckily, she didn’t need to -- Spike was taking care of it.

He couldn’t stop -- didn’t want to stop, and probably never would be able to, even if Buffy asked him. Straight-minded tunnel vision, he saw the object of his desire, and went for it.

Buffy’s thong was ripped right off of her body and pitched across the room.

Cool, experienced fingers found their way inside of her and Buffy had to do all she could not to scream and sob in pleasure. Spike nipped her lower lip gently, then sucked it into his mouth as he began to work her, his hand flush against her pelvic bone, his thumb running circles all around her sensitive clit before pressing right into it and rubbing. His tongue pressed against her lip, and suddenly Buffy felt him bite into it, then suck it in even further.

As if she weren’t already becoming the Pacific Ocean. Spike was making it worse, rather than better. Desperately, she maneuvered her hips to settle him between her legs, the velvety tip of his cock pressing against but not quite into her entrance. She kissed him heatedly, one hand on the back of his head, and wrapped her left leg firmly around his right. The other leg was arced at the knee and her foot was settled firmly against the mattress. She thrust her hips up.

Spike’s eyes widened and he pulled away, looking down at her. Buffy looked back at him as calmly as possible, which wasn’t working too well because if he didn’t start moving within the next minute she was gonna pin him to the floor and fuck him right back to his grave.

Ahem.

Spike slowly began rotating his hips, pressing the head of his cock against her clit, refusing to enter her just yet. Buffy’s arms began to thrash and she nearly started to weep in frustration. A lock of sweat-drenched hair fell across her brow and Spike tenderly pushed it away, pausing in his impromptu torture session. “What is it, luv? What do you want?” he asked, voice sotto.

She gazed up at him, fingers clenched in his platinum curls, her eyes wild and frenzied. “Spike, please,” she gasped hoarsely, “please, I need you inside me.”

He swallowed hard. Uh-oh. Big step. Very big step. Did he really want this?  This was a sin, he was sinning. It had to be a sin to fuse God’s light with the Devil’s darkness, to completely and entirely defile a Slayer and divest her of her purity.

Oh, sod it. He was a vampire, he was fucked for eternity no matter what he did. Might as well add the sexual corruption of the Slayer to the list.

His eyes blazed gold for one exact second as he slid into the Slayer’s body. Both eyes widened, and breathing exploded into shocked gasps.

Holy shit.

“Spike,” Buffy whimpered, grabbing at him convulsively.

He buried his face in her shoulder, giving one loud groan. “Oh, god, Buffy...”

So hot. Scalding, almost. Incredibly tight. She did feel nearly virginal. Why the hell was that? She was practically ripping the skin right off of his cock, and he hadn’t even moved yet!

Moving. Oh, that’s right. He should probably do that. Although it felt like he could come right then and there just resting inside of her. He slowly began to withdraw from her tightly stretched passage, before sliding equally slowly back in.

Oh, he already knew this wasn’t gonna take long. A few more strokes, and he was gonna be a goner.

Faster and faster, he began to pump, murmuring soft, tender words at first, then moving on to blissful obscenities as movements increased. Buffy’s hips arched off of her bed at each stroke, the Slayer herself lulled into a joyfully pre-orgasmic state by the complete feeling her lover was giving her. Moans and kitten-mews and gasps were voiced loudly as she writhed under him, thrusting her hips right back at his, their pelvises colliding with vigor.

Wow, wow, wow, holy fucking shit, wow. He was enormous up close, but she hadn’t really had any idea how big he really was until he’d buried himself in her body. She had a feeling she knew where the name, ‘The Big Bad’ actually came from now.

< Lookie lookie what Spikey’s been hiding all along... >

This was incredible. Unlike anything she’d ever even felt before. He fit her completely, in every single way, his body pressed tight against hers, interlocking in all the right places, and even his cock fit her perfectly. Just the right length, right to the center, and it stabbed her belly at each thrust.

Why was she planning on pushing him away again?

She couldn’t exactly remember. Her brain had gone on sensory meltdown as soon as Spike had started touching her. She might as well have brain damage now, because there was no possible way she was going to be able to even remember who she was, let alone anything else. All she knew right now was that she and Spike were having sex, and it was the best experience she’d ever had.

If God struck him down right then for banging His warrior of light, Spike would die a very happy man. He’d thought last night had been perfect, just holding her and falling asleep with her in his arms. This beat that outlook by about a million to one. This was like being transported to his very own Utopia, and in it’s own way, he was being gifted by the sun. That big stupid bleeding yellow ball in the sky was actually giving him some of its light, transporting it from Buffy to his body, and thought it was scalding him, setting him on fire, it was only in the best possible way. He was brought out of his reverie by the sound of the Slayer’s grunts, which were becoming increasingly louder and higher with each push closer to the edge.

“Yes,” she repeated with a gasp, each time Spike’s hips slammed into her own. “Harder,” she implored, “more,” she begged, and each plea and declaration ignited something inside of him, making him work to give her the best orgasm of her life. One hand moved down slowly as his lips founds hers again, and dug between her legs, searching and finding her clit. Fingering and twisting it, he forced himself to wait until his hand had been sufficiently lubricated by her juices, then pulled his mouth away from hers, lifting his hand to his face and slipping the wet fingers into his mouth. Buffy allowed an aroused moan to escape her throat before pulling his face back down to hers. Spreading her legs apart farther and lifting them over his shoulders, he pushed into her faster and harder, angling himself to find the delicate patch of nerve endings inside of her, making her bite his lips in an effort to keep her cries down.

Something inside of Spike snapped when she bit his mouth and he drove his body viciously into hers with wild abandon, slapping his hand down over her mouth to keep the Slayer from waking up the other two women in the house. It was an ungodly time to get up, being seven in the morning, and it was a good thing that both Dawn and Joyce slept like the dead, but Buffy wasn’t holding either one of them to that, and so she appreciated Spike’s movements.

Really appreciated them. She wiggled her body under Spike’s, then bucked harder, squeezing her muscles and strangling the vast member within her. Spike’s eyes popped open and he dove down, burying his face in her neck and letting out a choked groan of pleasure.

It was Buffy in the lead by a squeeze, but Spike was catching up with a few more thrusts. Buffy counters with a bite to his shoulder with her dull teeth -- Spike looks astounded, and falls behind slightly, trying to catch up. Spike allows his game face to appear, opening his mouth.

He attacked like a viper and slid his fangs carefully into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, covering his own markings. Quick and painless. He pulled his fangs back out and suctioned his lips around the wounds, sucking hungrily and sensually.

The feeling overpowered Buffy -- it was true that usually a vampire’s bite hurt. But that was when they intended to kill someone. She got the feeling that killing her wasn’t particularly what Spike had in mind at the moment, since his teeth were no longer buried in her flesh.

A vampire bite during sex was supposed to bring some of the most intense pleasure ever known. But it had never been experienced between a vampire and a willing human before. And never had that human been a Slayer.

The results?

Buffy buried her face in Spike’s neck, opening her mouth and crying out, her screams muffled by the vampire. The girl was catapulted through her orgasm as clearly as a rocket was shot from a launching pad into the outer limits of space. Her body tensed, then began to convulse, jerking spasmodically against Spike’s as her insides clutched and tightened. She grasped at him tightly, then threw her head back and let out a long, low moan as she spasmed and came hard, her juices flooding and scorching him. Spike allowed a growl to rip past his lips from the heat, and with at least two more thrusts, he came, barreling right behind Buffy, his dead seed firing into the very depths of her body. His body shivered and as the last drop was expelled from him, he collapsed heavily on top of her.

Both brains were on hold for the next ten minutes, neither sure what to say other than ‘wow.’ Finally Spike looked up, staring her directly in the eyes, his expression curious. He reached up a hand and gently ran his thumb down her jaw until his hand cupped her chin. Moving up, he kissed her lips gently, then rolled onto his back next to her. “Go on wash up, pet,” he suggested softly. Buffy couldn’t resist a grin at the tone of his voice. He sounded as he’d just been shown the hidden treasures of an Egyptian king. Not greedy -- just extremely awed, and amazed.

His voice was cracking. < Haha. Spike’s going through puberty again. >

She took his advice and stood up, looking for her robe and wrapping it around her when she found it.

Buffy fumbled her way toward the bathroom, then securely locked the door behind her. She turned to look at herself in the mirror.

Realization at what just happened finally hit her.

“Holy shit. I just had sex with Spike.”

This was definitely gonna deter her from her goal.

Glory rolled her eyes as she lay on the couch in her apartment, her foot lolling about. Needless to say, the goddess was supremely annoyed. “He’s getting stronger. I’m losing him. I’m losing control of him!” She pulled both legs up and threw them across the arm of the sofa, nearly kicking two of her demon lackeys, Jinx and Murk. Jinx gazed at her with eyes of adoration.

“You're speaking of Ben, most glamorous yet tasteful one?” he asked. It really was quite amazing how the disgusting little blobs flattered her. Glory glared at him.

“He stabbed you in your body,” she muttered.

Murk held his hand up, as if asking permission to speak. “Jinx is all right, your highness. And we do have the new knowledge that the key is a human being.” Glory grumbled and sat up, gazing at the little turd.

“If time runs out on us and all we're left with is info? Then we're screwed,” she informed. As if the dipshits got it.

“Oh, surely not!” Jinx cried, beginning the first wave attempt at comforting the goddess.

Glory shook her head quickly, her blonder curls going everywhere as she leaned back. “No, we’re screwed!”

“But you are a god! The sacred Glorificus!” Murk said, joining in with the effort.

Glory sighed. “I’m a god in exile. Far from the hellfires of home and... sharing my body with an enemy that stabs my boys in their,” she paused momentarily, poking Jinx in his stomach, causing the demon to wince and groan in pain. “Fleshy little stomachs.”

She leaned back once again, ignoring Jinx, and closed her eyes. “Ugh! I’m in pain!”

“How can we help?” Jinx asked quickly. “We will lay down our lives!”

Glory stopped for a moment, tilting her head as she pondered the question. Then she stood up and looked around at her minions. “The Slayer and the Key are connected. She's going to have contact with it. Find out who's new in her life, who's ... special, who's different. Watch her.”

Murk nodded hastily. “We can do that O... thou.” Obviously he’d run out of steam in preparation for a new term of endearment.

Glory continued, gaining speed. “I want to hear about everyone she has contact with! That girl has my Key --” The demons instantly bowed their heads, “-- and I’m trusting you boys to get it for me. If you love me...” The demons looked up again, eyes filled with devotion to the goddess. “... get it for me.”

The monks looked back at each other, smiles wide on their ugly little faces. Glory smirked.

Those little shits were so... helpful.

“I had sex with Spike. I had sex... with Spike. Spike and I had sex. Oh, my god, this is so not sounding right!”

If she wasn’t careful, Buffy was going to drive herself up the Wall of Insanity. It was bad enough that she’d been doing this mentally from the moment Spike left. She’d come out of the bathroom that morning with the true meaning of ‘dazed and confused’ spray-painted all over her face. After they’d dressed, Buffy had ushered Spike as quickly and quietly downstairs as she could, and had begun to lead him toward the kitchen, only to be stopped short by the sound of pans banging together against the stove.

< Mom! > was her prominent thought.

She dragged Spike toward the foyer and looked at him, wide-eyed. “How fast can you run?” she asked. He gave her a Look, then rolled his eyes and bared his fangs as an answer, interpretation being, “Duh. Vampire.”

Buffy looked down sheepishly. “Right,” she muttered. “If you don’t want to go poof, you’re gonna need to be like a gunshot, Spike. Are you going to use the tunnels or just run straight to the crypt?”

Spike shot her his lower lip. “Why can’t I just stay in the basement till nightfall?”

She glared at him. “Because my mom actually goes in the basement, and she would find you. Easily. And then she’ll wonder why you’re here, and I don’t particularly feel like explaining to her that you spent the night and we woke up... doing things to each other.”

Spike grinned, a full eye-crinkling, teeth-baring grin. “Is that what they’re calling it, Slayer? Cuz usually I just refer to it as --”

Her hand slammed down over his mouth. “Not another word out of you if you wanna make it home with everything on your body intact and in correct working order.”

Spike casually ran his tongue over her palm, smiling when he felt Buffy shudder and a small thrum of desire bolt through her. She took her hand off his mouth and he grabbed it, then wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her close. “It’s all right, luv. I’ll go, an’ you won’t have to explain a thing to your dear old mum. An’ if she happens to see me, just let her know that I came to check up on you an’ the Nibblet. Right, pet?” He touched her chin, lifting her face up to meet his gaze. Buffy nodded slowly, chewing on her lower lip. Spike ducked his head a bit, touching his lips to hers quickly. “Don’t need to tell anyone, pet. ‘S just between you an’ me.” He pulled away and Buffy nodded again.

Like she’d been planning on telling anyone anyway. She’d just fucked her mortal enemy/ally/sometime-comrade -- in her bed of all places!

She watched at the door as Spike stepped onto the porch, gathered his duster over his head, then took off down the street, stopping at a sewer entrance, lifting the lid and jumping into the tunnels below. She rolled her eyes. Spike was the only vampire she knew who had a particularly dangerous interest in gallivanting around town under the sun.

Well, actually... Spike was the only vampire she actually knew personally.

Shaking her head, she’d turned back into the house, and gone about her business, all the while cursing herself.

“He’s in love with you, and you sleep with him when you say you want to turn him off of you?” she chided herself now. So it had been throughout the whole day. Buffy ranted and raved, cursing at herself for her stupidity.

The part of her that had taken over when Spike had started the entire situation finally replied to the contradicting voices that she had shoved to the back of her brain. < That’s enough! You wanted it, and you know it, stop acting like a child! >

Okay, true. She had wanted it. But she hadn’t been entirely in control of her body then. She hadn’t had sex in a while. All she and Spike had been doing was fooling around orally. Actual penetration was a completely different thing, something Buffy had been lacking for a bit. She hadn’t meant to give it to Spike.

Even though it had been an earth-shattering encounter. Especially when he’d sunk his teeth --

< No! Bad Buffy! No thinking of the evil vampire and the bities! Bad, bad Buffy! >

Damn it, if she kept using the word ‘bad,’ nothing was gonna stop her from running right back to the actual Bad. Her imagination was working overtime and putting herself and the vampire into several extremely interesting and very -- very -- tempting positions.

This was not good.

Actually, it was good, but in a very different context than she would’ve preferred it to be. Spike was taking over her mind, when she should be concentrating more than ever on Slutty Evil Hell-Bitch Glory. The goddess was getting closer and closer to finding out the truth, and that was so beyond un-good. She was not gonna let someone she loved get hurt, all because she couldn’t keep her hands off of a very pushy, very annoying vampire.

That did it. She had to be serious this time. She wasn’t going to let Spike take over. She was going to be strong, and selfish for the right reasons. Spike was not the right reason. Dawn was. Her mother was. Giles, Xander, Anya, Willow and Tara were.

She was not gonna jeopardize the lives of the people she actually loved for a fling with Spike, of all people. It just wasn’t ethical.

At the moment, she was wandering around in a graveyard that was about five streets away from Spike’s. Buffy made an about-face and began heading down those five streets to confront the latest addition to her list of Relationships That Start Out Badly.

As she arrived at the crypt, Spike swung the door open, bare-chested and smug, startling her. He grinned and nodded toward the inside of his crypt. Obviously, he’d been expecting her. Stupid presumptuous vampire.

“Have a good day, luv?” he questioned, tilting his head and fumbling around the sarcophagus for something... the sarcophagus that was covered in silk sheets that she was positive Spike had stolen, no matter how pretty and comfy they looked. Eh, he was probably looking for liquor anyway. She shrugged.

“It was... uneventful, I guess,” she answered. Spike stood up straight and raised an eyebrow, shooting her a smoldering look. Buffy felt her cheeks flush as she realized what that look was inquiring. “Um... except for that.”

The 1000-watt grin reappeared and he resumed his search. “Good to know.” He straightened again, holding a bottle of bourbon around the neck in his fist. < Hah! Right on the money! > she thought, eyeing the drink as he unscrewed the top and took a gulp. Then he set it back down and motioned to her, holding out his hand. “C’mere,” he said softly.

Instantly, she knew what he was thinking. She was about to decline, but looking in his eyes, and seeing the hope and desire for her, she relented.

Okay... one more time wouldn’t hurt. One more time, and then she’d tell him to shove off.

Buffy took a hold of his hand and allowed him to lift her onto the silken sheets gracing the tomb. His hands quickly began to unbutton her blouse, and as he slid it off her shoulders, he looked up at her, his face serious. Buffy stared back at him silently, then wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him fervently. Spike held her tightly and kissed her back, then trailed his lips down her neck, sucking on the skin lightly.

Her fingernails ran up and down his back, stroking gently as he pushed her back and climbed on top of her. Reaching under her, Spike grasped for her bra, then growled softly when the hooks refused to release. “I swear to God, the bastard that made these infernal contraptions should’ve been hung by his toes and had his neck snapped, and if he didn’t, I should’ve done it!” he growled, getting very close to biting right through the damn straps.

Buffy laughed softly and arched her back, unclasping the “infernal contraption” easily as Spike’s focus drifted to the top of one of her breasts. Raining kisses over the soft mounds, he helped Buffy pull the cursed thing off of her shoulders, revealing the rest of her breasts to him. Once again, Buffy reached down and unfastened his pants, helping him slide them down his legs and leaving him strong, visibly aroused, and completely nude as the day he’d been born (and nude as he’d probably died, knowing Drusilla).

Spike’s hand shot for her own pants, yanking the things down her legs and leaving her in a tiny black lace thong. Which did not last long as Spike’s horniness got the best of him, causing him to snatch them and chuck them right over his shoulder. His mouth once again met with Buffy’s skin and he kissed an insane, winding path over her neck, chest, breasts, stomach and down to her pelvis, nuzzling the insides of her thighs. He breathed in deeply, savoring the scent of her arousal, indulging in the fact that it was all for him, that Buffy savored this as much as he did. He lips pressed against the mouth of her womanhood and he slid out his tongue, tracing the lips.

But he didn’t linger. He stopped long enough to get a small taste and a soft moan from Buffy, then began to kiss his way back up her body. “God, I love you,” he mumbled, half-realizing what he’d just said, partly horrified that he’d let it slip, and partly relieved because he’d finally said it, and relished the salty tinge of her skin from the beginnings of her perspiration.

Buffy heard him quite clearly. And that alerted her, reminding her of her mission. She swallowed hard, and looked around frantically. Spike wasn’t gonna stop without just cause and she needed one hell of a just cause to get him off and away from her. Damn it, what would Giles tell her to do? What would Mom say, or Angel...

Angel.

That was it.

“Buffy,” she heard her name tumble softly from Spike’s lips. Closing her eyes, she leaned back and moaned softly.

Moaned someone else’s name.

“Angel.”

And immediately regretted doing so.

Spike shot up within a second and stared at her with wide, shocked eyes. Hurt eyes. The hurt she saw dug deep inside of her, making her heart twist, making her wince internally, making nausea well up and giving her the intense urge to vomit at what she’d just pulled. At the stupid, stupid thing she’d just said.

Spike was still staring at her, disbelief clouding his eyes. And he was backing away from her fast. “Angel?” he whispered. “You were thinking of... Angel?” he asked.

The cruel, heartless part of Buffy, the part that kept insisting that this entire thing she’d started with Spike had been nothing but a mistake from the very start, took over and forced her to nod. The part of her that had formed a loving attachment to Spike was shoved to the back, shackled and chained in the cerebellum, unable to do anything but watch in horror at what was happening.

Spike swallowed hard. “And... that first time...? You thought of Angelus when I was inside of you.” He wouldn’t look at her. He was staring sullenly at the wall, his expression slowly becoming blank and void of any emotion whatsoever.

“Of course,” she replied cruelly, her inner mind unable to believe the hostility in her words. She saw Spike flinch and Cruel-Heartless-Buffy continued. “You don’t think I actually gave a damn about you, do you? You were just something to tide me over until I found a replacement for Riley. Have to say though -- you gave great bone. At least you were good for something.”

< Stop it! Stop right this minute! What are you doing?! > Loving-Caring-Buffy shrieked from her confines. < How can you say that to him?! >

There was nothing but silence for a few minutes. Buffy kept her eyes on Spike, waiting to see his reaction. Slowly, he began to move, picking up her clothes. He handed them to her, then waited for her to dress again. He, however, remained nude.

When she was fully dressed, she looked to him again. Cruel-Heartless-Buffy took over once again. “Look, I’m sorry if you got the wrong idea. You do realize that you’re a vampire, right? And I’m the Slayer. It could never work. Not that I wanted it to, you know, but come on, Spike. You can’t actually think that I was falling --”

“Get out.”

Buffy looked at him quickly, noticing the muscles in his jaw beginning to twitch. “Seriously, if you really think --”

And suddenly she was slammed against the wall, a naked, angry vampire snarling at her, eyes glowing a fiery gold. His hand was wound tightly around her throat. “Get out,” he growled, his upper lip curling in hate and disgust. Not disgust with her. Disgust for himself. For allowing himself to fall so deeply, only to get burned much worse than he’d been burned before.

And suddenly, Cruel-Heartless-Buffy dropped back in fear, finally slapped silly for the stunt she’d pulled, and Loving-Caring-Buffy was free, scrabbling desperately at the last scraps of hope. Buffy snapped to, gasping and gazing at him.

“Spike? Spike, please, oh, god, I’m so sorry! I am so, so sorry, I don’t know what came over me. Please forgive me, please, Spike, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

Spike’s jaw clenched once again, and he flung her down, turning away from her. “Just get out. Don’t come back.”

She moved toward him, grasping his arm. “Spike, no, please --”

Spike snarled viciously and swung his arm back, throwing her into the wall. “GET OUT!” he roared, his eyes blazing a hellish orange. Buffy stared at him, eyes wide with fear, and she began scrambling backwards toward the doors of the crypt. Standing up, her chest began to heave, and she gave a soft sob. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, giving a sob.

As she turned and left, Spike sank to the floor against the sarcophagus, putting his head in his hands. Suddenly his fist shot out and slammed into the wall, and he growled in pain when the vessels and the skin of his hand split at the knuckles, beginning to bleed.

“Dammit,” he sighed softly, shutting his eyes.

Outside, Buffy cursed herself several times over for her bitchy nature. Yeah, she hadn’t wanted to endanger the people she loved about Spike. Problem was... Spike was one of those people.

It had smacked into her the second those cruel, cruel words had slipped out of her mouth. The minute she’d seen the hurt in his eyes, she had practically died.

She didn’t want to hurt the people she loved. So why had she?

She sniffed and gave a soft sob before walking off, her face in her hands.

All was clear. A small demon was making sure of that. He motioned back into the bushes about ten feet to the west of Spike’s crypt as the Slayer walked off, her arms wrapped around herself. This was it, this had to be it. They’d been keeping a close eye on the Slayer the entire day, and the only person they had seen come in contact with her had been the vampire.

The vampire was the one they wanted.

Jinx walked out of the bushes confidently, his crumbly little chin high up in the air. Five more demons followed him.

Time to get the Key.

Spike shifted slightly as his jeans slid over his narrow hips. His face had become a mask of despondency, and after slamming his hand into the wall a few more times, nearly shattering his fist right along with the wall, he refused to make any sound at all. What was the point?

He was a fool. He’d been a simpering, puppy-faced fool for even thinking that this bloody thing with the Slayer meant anything to her. All she’d wanted was to get off. And since Spike had shown interest... the victim had been easily established.

He should have known better. He could sense it in her when she was dating the Farmboy prat. Riley had just been rebound after she’d lost Angel. And Angel had been the love of her life. Her first love. She would never care about another the way she’d cared about his stupid, fucking, soul-filled Sire.

How lovely. That morning, he’d been worried about corrupting the Slayer’s body with his own.

This, apparently, was his punishment.

He rubbed at his eyes as he fastened his pants. He hadn’t even pulled his shirt over his head when he sensed another demon entering. Turning quickly, he faced the door, then frowned.

“Who the hell are you?”

Jinx appeared out of the shadows by the doors, followed by several other demons who looked almost exactly like him. “Forgive me for our intrusion, my friend, but I would like a word with you.”

Spike stared blankly at the little twit. “Nope. Sorry. Not really in a mood to get all talkative.”

Jinx smiled. “But I insist.”

Spike tilted his head, noticing that the demons were beginning to circle him. “Well, since you put it that way, NO!” He managed to duck in time as he sensed one of the turds take a swing at his head, then dropped to the floor and swung his leg out, tripping the demon up and sending him flat onto his back.

Growling now, Spike looked up, eyes glowing, at Jinx, then ran him down, knocking him to the floor and kicking him. He managed two more kicks before two of the demons grabbed him by the arms. He snarled and sank his fangs into the arm of one, then head-butted the other. Though his rage at Buffy’s betrayal to him fueled his fight, the demons managed to gain control of him, reducing his efforts to violent struggles.

Jinx struggled to stand up, glaring in disgust at the vampire. “Tie his hands! Glory will want him restrained!”

Instantly, the demons followed orders and Spike hissed as his arms were drawn sharply behind him, being tied together. With one last-ditch effort to escape, he spun once and kicked the first demon that had attacked him swiftly in the head, his foot landing right in the creature’s upper spinal cord, shattering his neck. He landed in a heap on the ground, dead. Horrified, one of the demons holding the vampire’s arms grasped a brick off the ground and smacked it into Spike’s head. The blonde bloodsucker let out a cry of pain, arching backwards as he attempted to close his eyes to the thrums of agony.

“Let me go!” he howled, his attempts at struggle not stopping, but becoming less effective.

Jinx stomped over and violently smacked the demon that had hit Spike. “Careful with him! Did it not occur to you that she would want the Key intact?!”

Spike’s breathing had become harsh, labored gasps, and his head shot up at the mention of the Key, his eyes wide. “Key? Who’s a Key? I’m not the --”

Jinx angrily stuffed something into Spike’s mouth, to Spike’s desperate but now-muffled protests. His struggles did not cease, and he kept shouting through the dirty-feeling cotton that had been used as a silencer as he was dragged away.

< They think I’m the Key? Oh, bloody hell... Spike, ol’ boy, you’ve gotten yourself into it now. >

Not one of the demons took notice of their dead comrade, lying on the ground with his neck in such an awkward position. They lugged Spike out of the crypt.

“Dentist appointment go okay?” Tara asked as she walked Dawn out of the orthodontist’s office.

Dawn nodded arrogantly, baring her teeth in a wide grin. “Proud to say no cavities, no need for fillings or crowns, no teeth falling out, and no tell-tale signs of the vampire pointies. Statler was glad. He gave me a Blow-Pop. Does that make any sense? A dentist giving you sugar to rot your teeth? Well, I guess it makes sense, you know, so that you can go back and get screwed out of lots more money for it. Hey, doctors are pretty smart!”

Tara just giggled at the over-exuberant teenager. “Are you sure Dr. Statler didn’t put you on the happy gas before you left?”

Dawn stuck her tongue out. “Very funny.” Then she turned to Tara excitedly. “Ooh, can we go visit Spike before we head to the Magic Box? It’s okay if I go see him, Buffy just says that I need someone with me just in case some of Glory’s goons are around. Please can we go, please can we go?”

Tara smiled, nodding. “Sure, Dawnie. But we can’t stay long, cuz after we hit the Magic Box, I hafta get you home. We don’t want your mom to worry.”

Dawn squealed, jumping up excitedly. “Definitely! Thank you!” She grabbed the witch’s hand and began racing to the crypt. “Come on, come on, come on!”

When they arrived at the crypt, the first thing Dawn noticed was that everything was in disarray. Which was odd, because whenever she’d been to Spike’s before, everything had been in perfect place. She’d managed to weasel it out of him, and figured out that he was a closet neat freak. Kinda like how Buffy was a closet pig. Tara followed her in, a slight frown on her face.

“Where is he?” she asked, confused.

Dawn frowned. She was starting to get an uneasy feeling. The feeling only intensified when she saw Spike’s shirt and adored leather duster lying on the ground. “I don’t know, but his duster’s here... Tara, something’s wrong, Spike would never go anywhere without his duster! This thing is like his child, he never lets it out of his sight!”

Tara eyed the coat. “Well, maybe he was in a hurry. An emergency came up, or --”

“Tara, Buffy and I are his emergencies. And there’s nothing wrong with either of us. Something happened, and I’m gonna find out... Is that blood?” Dawn had caught sight of the dents and blood spills covering the walls next to the sarcophagus. Okay, now she was scared. “Oh... oh, Tara, it’s blood. What if it’s Spike’s blood? What if something awful happened to him? And -- oh, god, there’s more right there, look!” The teen pointed to a spot on the floor where the brick had fallen. It clearly had to have smacked Spike hard enough if it had opened a wound in his skull big enough to dribble blood.

Tara didn’t want to admit it, but it did look as if something had happened to Spike. She moved over to Dawn and wrapped her arms around the frantic girl, hugging her close. “It’s okay, it’ll be okay, Dawnie, I promise. We’ll find out what happened, I promise you.”

Dawn gasped and sniffled quietly into Tara’s sheer green floral-print shirt, until she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. She lifted her head, still sniffling, and wiped at her eyes. “What’s that?”

The Wicca looked behind her and noticed a big brown boot on the floor next to the sarcophagus. She let go of Dawn for a moment and walked over cautiously. Bending down, Tara none-to-eagerly poked at the thing, then rolled it over, revealing the dead demon. The witch quickly pulled away, putting her hand over her mouth and grimacing. “Oh... oh, god... His neck was snapped. I think the only other person that could do something like that besides Buffy is Spike, so he must have had a fight in here.” She stood up and sighed. “Dawn, come on, we should -- Dawn?” Tara looked at Dawn, who’s face had crumbled and was now a mask of horror as she stared at the dead heap.

“That’s... Isn’t that one of Glory’s minions?” the girl asked in a shaking voice.

Tara gazed at Dawn with trepidation, then quickly looked back down at the demon. “Oh my god.” She looked to Dawn again, who was beginning to tremble in fear.

“She’s got Spike,” the teen whispered, her voice taking on a high-pitched, deranged note. “She’s got him! Oh my god, Tara, Glory’s got Spike! Glory has him, she has Spike! We have to get him back, we have to get him! Tara, please, let’s go find Buffy, please, we’ve got to get him back! Please!”

By then, Dawn’s pleas had become frantic shrieks, and tears were flowing down her cheeks. Tara quickly wrapped her arms around the sobbing girl and walked out of the crypt, heading directly for the Magic Box. And suddenly Dawn regained her senses, breaking into a run.

“Dawn!” Tara called desperately, then chased after her.

She could sense Willow approaching her even before the door to the training room opened. “I’m a horrible person.”

Willow froze, confusion etched on her face. “What?” She didn’t understand. All she could comprehend was that Buffy had scrambled through the door of the Magic Box, tears streaming rapidly down her cheeks, refusing to talk to anyone. And now she was curled up against the wall in the training room, her legs pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. Her chin rested on her knees, and continuous, soft sobs escaped past her lips.

“I’m a horrible person, Willow,” she repeated, her face scrunching up as she gave another sob.

Willow sat down next to her, her eyes wide. She shook her head quickly. “No! No, Buffy, you’re not--”

Buffy finally looked up and growled, “Oh, cut the bullshit, Willow! I’m a bitch, plain and simple! I’m awful to people, I’m mean, and hurtful, to people that don’t deserve it, to people I care about!”

Willow jumped back, her eyes widening further. “Buffy, did you have a fight with your mom, or Dawn?” The Slayer shook her head quickly, burying her face again. Willow frowned. “What happened?” She remained quiet, refusing to answer. The red-head grumbled under her breath, then shouted, “Buffy, TELL me! I thought we weren’t gonna keep secrets from each other!”

At that, Buffy seemed to return and looked up again, wiping her eyes. She was silent for about a half a minute more, then drew a deep breath before speaking. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to tell you.” Willow nodded in anticipation. Buffy glanced at her, a bit fearfully. “For the last... month or... two months, or whatever... I’ve been seeing Spike.” Willow didn’t even have a chance to react before Buffy was off and running again. “The whole thing started the night he got the chip out and bit me, and I tried to push him away, but the more I was around him, the more I wanted to be with him, and Wills, you should’ve seen us the other day, we were teasing each other, joking around, tickling each other and I felt like I was in a real relationship again, and I know this is wrong, but I’ve never felt more happy until we...” Buffy hazarded a look at her best friend, then swallowed hard. “Willow, he’s in love with me.”

Imagine the Slayer’s surprise when Willow smiled, instead of putting up an enormous, frantic curse on Spike’s head for manipulating her. “I know,” she said softly, touching Buffy’s hand. “I could tell.”

Buffy looked at her hard, then looked away again. “And I ruined it. He has to hate me now... oh, god, Wills, the things I said to him... no humane person would ever say the things I said to the person that loved them!”

Willow’s eyebrows rose and she looked at Buffy in confusion. “What did you do?” she asked.

Buffy swallowed hard, covering her face in her hands. “Willow... we... had sex. For the first time this morning. And... when I went to see him again tonight, to tell him that I had to concentrate on Glory... we kinda got a little... occupied... and he told me he loved me... and I-I called him Angel. Purposely. Right to his face.”

Willow gaped at her in astonishment. “Buffy! How could you do that?”

Buffy shifted and turned toward the Wicca. “I don’t know, it was like something possessed me and forced me to tell him those things, and when I got back in control, I tried so hard to apologize, but he just wouldn’t hear it... And now he’ll never forgive me, I know it. I did the worst thing imaginable that anybody could ever do to him. Willow, I feel so awful, the second I realized what I’d said to him, I’d felt like throwing up, and right now I just wanna die and --”

Willow held up her hand. With Buffy rambling so much, it was damn hard trying to wrap her mind around everything. Now she knew Buffy felt awful, because Buffy never rambled. “Wait, wait a sec, Buffy. How do you feel about him?”

Silence.

Buffy looked away, then buried her face against her legs again. Willow got the feeling that the Slayer was never going to stop crying if she didn’t help, and so she placed a hand on Buffy’s back. “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t know.”

“But that’s just it,” Buffy’s choking voice replied. “I do know. I... Willow, I’m in love with him. And I didn’t even realize it until he kicked me out of his crypt.”

Willow pulled Buffy into a hug, resting her head on top of the blonde’s. “I kinda got the feeling that you did.”

Buffy’s face scrunched up, and she started to weep again. “Willow, what am I going to do? I have to get him back, I need him!”

Willow looked down at her. “Then tell him. Tell him you love him. It’s the only thing you can really do, and if he doesn’t believe you, then the only thing you can do is just give him time to get it --”

“Where’s Buffy? Buffy? BUFFY!”

The Slayer instantly shot to attention at the sound of her sister shrieking her name. She wiped her eyes quickly and stood up, walking to the door. Dawn shot through and barreled right into her, grasping at her tightly, screaming and crying at the same time.

“She has him! Buffy, she’s got him, Glory took him! We have to get him back, please, we’ve got to save him, Buffy, we’ve got to bring him back!” the teen sobbed hysterically, crying into Buffy’s neck.

Dread overcame the Slayer and she looked down at her sister numbly. “Glory has... who?”

Tara’s voice came through the doorway, overpowering Dawn’s frantic cries. “Spike.” Buffy looked up at the blonde witch, eyes widening. Tara walked into the room, looking tired and saddened. “We went to visit him, and when we got there, one of Glory’s minions was dead on the ground. Everything was a mess and there was blood on the floor and walls... we figured it had to be Glory that took him. Buffy, you’ve got to go after him, for Dawn’s sake, look at her.”

Buffy did just that, staring down at her younger sister. Dawn looked as if she was having a conniption fit, the frenzied, frightened glare shining in her tear-filled eyes doing nothing except confirming it. She hugged Dawn to her tightly, refusing to fall to tears herself.

“We’ll find him, Dawn, I promise. Tara, take Dawn home, please --”

“No, I want to go with you, I want Spike back!” Dawn protested, her voice reaching a shriek again.

Buffy grabbed Dawn’s face in both hands and looked her in the eyes. “We will find him. But Glory is too dangerous. She’s already got her hands on Spike, I’m not letting her anywhere near you. I swear to you, the second we get him back, I will call, I promise you that, okay? Let Tara take you home, it’s safe there.”

General Buffy in charge once again. She turned to Willow. “Come on.” The four of them stormed into the store, catching Xander and Giles’ attention immediately. Anya looked up from the cash register and shuddered at the authoritative aura the Slayer emanated. Instantly, she walked over to the group. Something big was going down, and she most definitely was gonna be a part of it.

“Listen up,” Buffy began, looking around. “Glory’s got Spike. There’s no way in hell that she’s invited him for tea and cookies, so we’re going after him, NOW. He’s vital to the team... and to us,” she looked over at Dawn, then continued. “I have a feeling I know where Glory’s place is, so follow me until we get there. Soon as we hit it, Willow, stick with Anya, make with the magic, Xander, Giles, come with me, get as many goddamn weapons you can get your hands on and use them.” She turned to her sister again, hugging her tightly. “We’ll get him back. He’ll be home in no time, calling you stupid pet names and everything, I promise you.”

Dawn hugged Buffy back tightly, squeezing her eyes shut. “Be careful. Don’t come back with bloody stumps for arms and legs.” Buffy scowled at her, then motioned for Tara to take off.

Tara quickly embraced Willow and gave her a kiss, whispering, “Please be careful, and don’t over-do the magic, okay?”

Willow nodded. “Of course.”

Tara gave her a weak smile, then took Dawn’s hand and hurried out the door. Giles lugged out his weapons chest and began pulling out all the weapons, tossing Xander a crossbow and an axe. A sleek silver sword was handed to Buffy and she scrutinized it with fierce determination in her eyes. Grabbing a crossbow and about seven bolts, she didn’t even wait for the others to get their things together before she stomped toward the door.

“I swear to God, if she’s so much as poked him, I’ll rip her skull out through her mouth, then beat her to death with it.”

Hell hath no fury like a pissed off Slayer.

part 12

part 10

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