|Story Title:||Miles To Go Before I Sleep|
You and Tequila
What will Buffy find waiting for her in the dark water? Did Annie make it off the ship and into the water as well, or was she captured or killed by the vamps? And what of Spike? Did he make it out with the scroll and the key to the Gem of Amarra?
Music Referenced: You and Tequila, Kenny Chesney & Grace Potter http://youtu.be/Q8XkLrErSHw
|Thanks:||To u2fan2005 and epd4 for their suggestions, corrections, and help betaing this chapter. And giant thanks to Anona for her grammatical and punctuation corrections, wonderful commentary, and final review. Final thanks to Capella42 for her insightful suggestions that made the whole story better. All mistakes are mine because I simply cannot stop fiddling right up to the last moment.|
|Rating / Warnings:||
NC17. Content is only suitable for mature adults. Contains explicit language, sex, adult themes, and other adult situations that some people may find objectionable. If you are under the age of 17 or find any of these themes objectionable – GO AWAY.
Early morning hours next day, Monday, April 18th, 2011, Gift-less Dimension:
As Buffy sank deeper under the dark, salty water her skin began to tingle with what felt like cool suckling kisses all over her skin. She opened her eyes and was suddenly in the bright clear water from her dream. She looked around … was she, in fact, dreaming? Hallucinating? Or perhaps she’d died and now was in some kind of water heaven. She wasn’t sure. Her two Spikes were there, caressing her, kissing her, sucking hungrily at her skin as she floated in the warm water. Red welts raised everywhere their mouths touched her skin, but it didn’t matter – they were here. Buffy reached out and touched them. She traced her fingers lightly over their soft skin and hard muscles as they swam around her. Despite the stinging, bruising kisses they were leaving on her flesh, she felt safe with them. Surely they wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
Spike dragged Buffy, who was still clinging tightly to the scythe, out of the water. He hauled her up the curving staircase, which was carved out of the wall of the cave, to the landing above. He’d used this cave, whose entrance was often completely submerged by the ocean tides, more than once to escape the Jacks. They had a deathly fear of the water – he didn’t know why, it wasn’t like they could drown. Or maybe it wasn’t the water so much as the demonic leeches and giant sea monsters that lived in it that they feared. Whatever it was, they were loath to follow anyone into the water, which was good. On the other hand, the leeches and other nasties that lived in the water could be a problem.
Spike laid Buffy down on her side and pulled the scythe from her grip, setting it on the ground behind him. Water poured from her mouth and lungs in one long gush of liquid. “C’mon, you bloody stubborn bint … breathe!” Spike admonished her as he pressed a fist against her stomach and more water sprayed from her throat and nose. Finally, she began coughing violently, expelling the rest of the salty sea water from her lungs, and taking deep gulps of air.
Satisfied that she wasn’t as dead as she appeared, Spike began ripping the giant leeches from their skin. The parasites started off as small blood-suckers only about half an inch wide by an inch or so long, but they were veracious feeders. They could suck enough blood to easily bulge to the size of a large man’s hand in short order; enough on you and you could be sucked dry in a matter of minutes.
“Couldn’t just leave when I told ya, could you? Noooo!” Spike ranted as he worked. “Had to try and be the big fucking hero, didn’t ya? Got a newsflash for ya, Slayer – I been doing just fine without the likes o’ you, don’t need a soddin’ sitter!”
Spike pulled the ones he could see from Buffy’s arms, neck, and face, then quickly stripped his clothes. He frantically pulled the hungry creatures, whose skin was a bruise-purple color and slimy, as if covered in snot, off his own body. They made a sickly sucking noise when ripped off and left blackened, bloody welts behind. Each wound continued to bleed freely due to the decoagulant they injected with their razor-sharp, fang-like teeth.
“Jumping into the soddin’ water – that was a stroke of bloody brilliance!” he continued to rant as he kept yanking the blood-suckers off. “I pity the bloody Spike you’re married to. He must be bald now from pulling his soddin’ hair out. Piece o’ work, you are, Slayer. I’m bloody well glad I didn’t get handed the fate o’ being married to the likes of a bossy, barmy bitch like you!”
He could feel some on his back, and struggled but couldn’t reach them with his hands. He used his sword to stab down and pry them off, then crushed them beneath his boot. They actually squealed a high-pitched cry when their fat bodies popped and exploded from the pressure. Red blood from their victims and oily, black entrails squirted from their engorged bellies, covering the floor and walls around them with a slick coating of demon guts that smelled rather like a mixture of rotten eggs, fecal material, blood, and viscera – kind of like a slaughterhouse … with rotten eggs served on the side.
When he was sure he had them all off himself, he began pulling Buffy’s clothes off and checking her for any that had slithered down under her shirt or the waistband of her jeans or up her legs. Spike tried to stay angry at her, telling himself he was glad she wasn’t his bloody Slayer. He worked hard to keep his mind focused on the task at hand, although it wasn’t easy with her lying naked in front of him, especially when he found one of the nasty creatures attached to her breast.
He couldn’t help but let his eyes wander over her body. Her golden skin, now covered in bloody, purple-black welts, glistened with the dampness of the sea. Her breasts, perfectly round, were firm yet supple under his fingers as he pried the blood-sucker off. Her nipples were a delicate shade of dusty-pink, her mound, a neatly trimmed snatch of dark curls. In life she looked very much like the mermaid that had mesmerized him and his twin the previous night. Her ass was just as round and firm as the one he’d ...
Spike cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to clear the memory of that dream as he turned her over to check her backside. Sure that he’d gotten all the leeches off her skin, he turned her again, laying her down on her back. Her blood was running in watery, red rivers down her skin and pooling on the hard, cold stone floor below her. Under the bruises from the beating she’d taken from the Reds, her face had grown pale … in fact her whole body now seemed to have a sickly grey pallor to it. She was losing too much blood. He had to stop the bleeding if she was going to stand any chance of surviving.
“And you talk about my bloody plans!” he huffed. “Bloody brilliant you are, Slayer. Why don’t we go for a soddin’ swim with the big, ugly, blood-sucking leeches?” he mocked. “Went nearly a full day without trying t’ die, you did … must be a soddin’ record!”
There was only one thing that could counteract the thinning properties of the leeches’ venom … only one thing he knew of, anyway. Buffy may stake him for it later, but now it was possibly her only chance. Spike took a deep breath as he summoned his courage and fought to keep his demon under control. Without the chip he had no bridle. There was nothing stopping the demon from hurting instead of helping; nothing but his own will – and his compass, which was now lying naked and bleeding on the ground before him.
He dropped his mouth deliberately to the worst of the wounds, one on her upper thigh near her femoral artery, and pressed his tongue against it firmly.
Bloody hell… His mind swirled and strained against the demon. Not counting the small bit she’d dripped onto his lips two nights ago, his demon hadn’t had even a drop of human blood, let alone Slayer blood, in many long years. It had been more years than Spike could even count at the moment as he sealed her wound with the healing balm of his saliva and moved to the next … and the next, and the next. His eyes flashed gold and he pushed the demon back again and again as he worked. Fighting his own inner monster seemed even more exhausting than fighting the Reds. His demon was persistent, insistent, and unrelenting.
When he got to the wound on her breast he tensed and steeled himself before dropping his lips against her hot skin. Her soft flesh gave and dipped with the pressure of his lips and tongue against her; it was almost more than he could stand. He tried to think of something else … anything else. The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain. The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog. Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. The early bird might get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.
Spike gasped and pulled back, shaking his head in an effort to keep his demon down. He breathed the stale air of the cave deep into his useless lungs, then let it back out with a slow hiss as he calmed his shaky nerves.
Only one more wound to tend to. ‘One more’ made it sound so simple – anyone can do practically anything one more time … right?
The final wound, on her neck, made Spike’s whole body quiver. His hands shook and he clenched his fists tightly as he dropped his mouth to it. Blood pulsed beneath his lips – hot, spicy, sweet Slayer blood. It was right there. Only a thin layer of golden skin separated that fountain of preternatural hemoglobin from his tongue … and the skin was already scared with his own mark. He could feel her pulse under his lips; it seemed to vibrate his whole being. He could feel the ridges of his scar under his tongue; it would be so easy to pierce it with his fangs – to add his own mark atop her husband’s. He could taste the thinned blood from the wound as it coated his mouth; it made him imagine the rapture of the rich, Slayer blood that flowed in the artery just beyond the wound.
His demon could feel, taste, and imagine all these things, as well.
The demon within him growled deeply. Spike could feel it pressing its way to the surface, breaking through the will of the man. Spike struggled against it, but was losing … badly. He could feel it coming as surely as you can feel a tornado coming as it churns unhindered across the prairie. He finally pushed back away from Buffy, landing on his ass on the hard floor. He scrambled like a startled crab, moving further away from the downed Slayer, as his demon continued to rage against the ponce that had thwarted its fun.
Spike’s chest heaved with unneeded breath as he tried to regain control of himself – of his demon. He closed his eyes to try and block at least one of the overwhelming sensory perceptions from the monster within. But even behind his closed lids he could see Buffy lying in front of him, her body just as beautiful as he’d imagined it would be.
Just one taste, the demon begged the man. But it wasn’t blood it hungered for now. Her sweet blood, even tainted with the leeches’ venom, still lingered on his lips and tongue. No, what the demon desired was the nectar of this woman that it had dreamt about for so long. He’d been assailed by the aroma of it that morning as he watched her sleeping. He’d fought the urge then to replace her hand with his tongue, to taste her juices. The girl sleeping in the bed next to her was perhaps the only thing that gave the man strength to deny the demon his desire.
There was no girl here now. There was just Buffy – unconscious. She wouldn’t even know if he just took a nip … one touch of his tongue to her pussy, one flick of it into her heat. Spike kept his eyes clamped shut and a vision of her spreading her legs and inviting him into her jumped to the forefront of his mind. He could see her smiling at him, beckoning him to her, welcoming his affections.
Just as she’d done on that last night before the battle with Glory, when she invited him into her home past the vamp barrier, in his vision she was trusting him, treating him like a man, not a monster. His throbbing cock, powered by the Slayer blood he’d consumed, jerked and bobbed demanding release, urging him forward for just one taste. She’d never know …
Tears welled in his eyes – that was the rub, wasn’t it? She’d never know … because if she did know, she’d never invite him into her. She wasn’t his. She’d never be his. She’d never love him. He’d told her as much that last day and she didn’t deny it. This wasn’t his Buffy … whoever she was, she wasn’t his because his Slayer would never love him. She’d told him so on more than one occasion. ‘It wouldn't be you, Spike. It would never be you. You’re beneath me.’
Spike took several deep breaths and let them out slowly as he finally felt the demon recede back behind the veil of the man, and he opened his eyes once again.
In front of him Buffy shuddered and shivered, her teeth clattered together, and she curled into a ball on her side trying to find some warmth. The rocky floor at their feet was cold and it was drawing what little body heat she had left out of her. Spike’s erection faded in an instant as worry for her replaced his warped desires and self-pity. Spike jumped up and went looking for some dry blankets, towels, or rugs left by the previous occupants of the hideaway to cover her with.
The room at the very end of the hall still had a couch in it and he found some throw rugs in the other rooms. He carried her down to the room with the couch, laid her down on it, and covered her with the rugs. He thought about starting a small fire for warmth, but there was nowhere for the smoke to go in the small room … that wouldn’t do.
“Spike?” Buffy murmured and he thought she’d awoken, but her eyes were still closed as she shivered uncontrollably even under the heavy rugs.
Spike knelt next to her, cursing his cold body for not having any warmth to give her. He brushed some stray hair from her face and leaned in close to her. “Right here, luv,” he assured her.
“Cold…” she muttered, trying to curl into a ball under the rugs for warmth. “Hold me.”
Spike sighed and shook his head. He’d only draw more heat from her if he held her, but oh, God how he wanted to comply with her plea. Her lips had a blue tinge to them now and her whole body continued to shudder and shake.
Buffy turned and cuddled against the back of the couch, tucking her head under the rugs. “Spike, please … cold,” she called again and his resolve crumbled. He spooned his naked body against her back, wrapping an arm over her, but stayed on top of the rugs. At least here his worthless, cold flesh could hold the dry covers against her body and provide a small extra bit of insulation against the cool, damp air of the room.
The fluttering beneath Spike’s breast that he’d been fighting returned with a vengeance.
As the two Spikes swam around her, ice crystals began to form in the clear water. Buffy shivered and swam upwards, her two companions following behind her. When her face broke the surface of the water, a cold wind blew snowflakes against her flesh and her teeth began to chatter as she turned in a circle trying to find her way back to the warm waters she’d been in before.
“Spike?” she called out as she turned, not sure where they had gone.
“Right here, luv,” came a deep voice from behind her.
As she turned back around, a large iceberg floated up next to her; Spike was standing atop it. He held a hand out and pulled her up out of the water to join him.
Buffy’s shivering intensified out of the water as the freezing wind whipped around her wet body. “Cold,” she murmured as she leaned against him. “Hold me.”
Spike wrapped his arms around her and tried to shield her from the wind, but it was whirling around in circles, licking her body with icy fingers. Her teeth chattered and her whole body shook and trembled as she tried to press harder against him. Then the other Spike was standing next to them. Buffy turned and gave him a shivering smile as she reached a hand out to him.
“Spike, please … cold,” she invited him to join them, holding her freezing hand out towards him.
He tilted his head and considered her a moment. Some emotion she couldn’t quite pin down flashed across his face – confusion? Perhaps he was just cold too, because the look faded in an instant and was replaced with a smirky smile. He stepped up behind her and gathered her in his arms, resting his head against the back of hers. The other Spike held her from the front and leaned his forehead against hers. Buffy sighed and closed her eyes as the chill eased and the wind finally died. They wouldn’t let anything happen to her; they’d keep her warm and safe. She didn’t have to be the strong one now. It was a relief to just let them be her protectors for a while.
Spike’s eyes closed as he lay against her, the heavy rugs separating their damp, naked bodies. The day had been exhausting in every way: from the hour he spent watching Buffy sleeping that morning, to Riley’s uncharacteristic defiance of his orders that no harm was to come to either of the newcomers. Riley feigned ignorance of the poison in the can of yams the girl had almost eaten when Spike confronted him in the kitchen; that earned Riley a beatdown. Then there was Buffy’s rant about not wanting the Platelet to go on patrol and then not wanting her armed. The fight with the Reds might’ve actually been the least exhausting thing he did today, that was until he discovered Buffy on the deck being beaten unmercifully by the large, red-eyed vamps. The coup de grace, however, had been the horror of seeing the Slayer slip over the edge and fall into the water.
His only consolation was that he’d been able to get there in time to stop the Platelet from jumping too. The girl had been bravely fighting the demons with her stun gun, trying to get them off her mother, when he made it to them on the deck. Spike dropped the book and scroll and jumped into the fray, but couldn’t stop Buffy from slipping off the ship and falling into the water. Catching them by surprise from behind, he’d been able to dust several of the Reds before they even turned to fight. When he looked up, Oz was there; he’d come back when Spike and Buffy hadn’t come out of the hold. The wolf helped him take out the last few and drive the ones back that were still pouring out of the make-shift amphitheater in the hold of the ship.
The girl was terrified beyond words, but her brave attempt to help her mother made his heart swell with pride. A bitty-Buffy, there was no doubt. Spike looked over the edge to the dark water below – Buffy hadn’t made it back to the surface. He cursed himself for letting her try to make it out alone; he should’ve been there for her instead of retrieving that damn book!
“OZ!” Spike called. “Take the girl and go!”
Oz turned away from the vamps who had stopped several feet away from the snapping and snarling beast. Their kind had faced him before – and lost; they weren’t fools. The wolf looked at Spike and Annie and growled his understanding.
Spike picked up the book and the scroll from where he’d dropped them and knelt down in front of the frightened girl who still held the stun gun in her hands, the electricity still jumping on the end of it. He reached above the stun gun and gently took it from her hand. “Ok now, Platelet, listen careful,” he began as calmly as he could. “We’re gonna tuck these inside your flak jacket, yeah?” he began as he loosened the Velcro on her vest and stuffed the book and scroll down inside, then tightened it back up securely.
“You’re gonna get a ride of a lifetime now – see the big puppy?” Spike asked, waving a hand at the werewolf who had been backing up slowly towards them but still keeping the vamps at bay with vicious growls and swipes of his powerful claws.
Annie’s eyes darted to the ‘big puppy’ and back to Spike’s and she nodded. “I’m gonna put you on his back and you’re gonna hold onto his fur like your life depends on it, yeah? He’ll get ya back to base.”
“Mom…” Annie muttered looking behind her at the water.
“I’ll get your mum – no worries, yeah? But you have to do this for me. Can you do it?” Spike cajoled.
Annie looked at Oz again, her eyes wide with fear, her heart felt like it was going to explode any moment it was racing so fast in her chest. Blood ran in rivulets from cuts and scratches on her face and her tears mixed with it, making streaks through the red glittery dust that covered her skin. “You’ll get Mom?” she asked again, turning her eyes back to Spike.
“Yeah… I’ll get ‘er.”
Spike bit his bottom lip. For what little his word was worth, he promised her, and she finally nodded her assent.
Spike lifted her up and set her down on Oz’s powerful back. Annie wrapped her legs around his ribcage then leaned forward so her body was against his neck like she was riding a racehorse. She clutched onto his long fur with both hands, wrapping it around her small palms as tightly as she could.
As Annie got situated, Spike leaned in near Oz’s ear. “Protect ‘er with your life,” he whispered to the wolf. Spike knew he would. When he saw Annie was ready, he shouted, “GO!” to Oz.
The werewolf bounded away, down the deck towards the gangplank, knocking the Reds out of his way with powerful claws as he went. The vampires screamed as they were knocked into the water below. They had a deathly fear of the water that Spike had never quite understood; the sea monsters weren’t normally this close to shore and the leeches were but a minor annoyance to a vampire of their size. He also didn’t understand why they chose to live on the ships, being so afraid of the water and all. Of course, no one had ever actually accused the Reds of being the smartest of the demons from the Otherworld, simply the strongest and most ruthless.
When Spike was sure that Oz had made it off the ship and the vamps were not pursuing him, he leapt over the edge into the dark water below, intent on keeping his promise to the girl.
“Mmmmm….” Buffy moaned as a bright sun shone down on them and the cold wind was replaced by a soft warm breeze. The water that had been lapping angrily against the edge of the iceberg turned into soft waves that broke gently against a white, sandy beach. She was finally warm.
She opened her eyes and dropped a soft kiss on Spike’s lips, his arms still wrapped around her where he’d been protecting her from the cold. He lifted his head and gazed into her eyes as if he hadn’t seen her for years.
“Tell me you love me,” Spike whispered against her lips.
“You know I love you,” Buffy murmured to him as she leaned in for another kiss.
“Say it again…”
“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Buffy repeated to him in earnest.
“Say, ‘I love you, Spike’,” he requested, his eyes dancing with joy.
Buffy smiled and touched her hand softly to the side of his face. “I love you, Spike.”
Then she felt the Spike at her back begin to kiss her neck, lifting her long, silky hair to the side as he searched for the spot behind her ear that drove her crazy.
“Mmmmm…” she moaned again as their cool hands roamed over her now warm body. Spike’s tongue delved into her mouth, teasing and tasting her. The other Spike’s lips and tongue found the spot he’d been searching for and began to nibble against the heated skin of her neck, sending goose-pimples racing over her body and tingling her loins.
Buffy lifted one hand back over her shoulder and entwined her fingers that Spike’s hair, freeing his curls from their gel prison, as he continued to tease the sensitive spot behind her ear with his lips and tongue.
“Want to taste you,” the Spike in front of her admitted almost shyly.
“Then taste,” Buffy offered, tilting her head to the side to expose her neck to him.
“No … not that,” he clarified as he dipped a finger between her pussy lips. Buffy moaned as he swirled his finger slowly around between her folds, grazing her clit and teasing her pulsing hole. He pulled his glistening finger out and up to his lips, then he closed his eyes and inhaled the perfume of Buffy deep into his lungs. Buffy watched as he wrapped his lips around his slick digit and moaned in pleasure as her nectar filled his senses with the power and passion of her.
“Then taste,” Buffy offered again, a coy smile playing on her lips and her eyes sparkling like diamonds.
Buffy pushed on his shoulders, pressing him back onto the soft sand of the beach and she moved down with him. The now curly-haired Spike that was at her back moaned his displeasure when she moved away. She turned her head to look back at him and motioned for him to follow.
With one Spike on his back on the warm sand, Buffy crawled up his body and positioned her wet pussy over his mouth. He grabbed her hips and pulled her down against his face, his tongue diving into her ferociously, as if he’d been starving for this for years. Buffy’s back arched and her body quivered as he licked roughly along her slit, then flicked his tongue against her clit before circling it slowly and starting back down towards her throbbing hole. Her whole body shuddered as he delved into her, fucking her with that magical tongue and she moaned his name with more passion than Spike had ever imagined she could.
Buffy reached a hand out towards the curly-haired Spike and pulled him around in front of her. His cock bobbed and jumped as he watched, enthralled, as his counterpart lapped at her juices. Her beautiful body, bathed in the sunlight, now glistened with a thin sheen of perspiration. Her breasts bounced and swayed with every movement and drew his hands to them like magnets.
Buffy couldn’t stop the moans that rolled out of her throat as curly-Spike touched her tits. He circled her hard nipples delicately with his fingers and sent more chill bumps racing over her skin. Her sugar walls constricted around the other Spike’s tongue as a small orgasm washed over her like the warm breeze that blew from the blue water at her back.
Curly-Spike’s cock was right in front of her and she had to have it. She caught the pearl of pre-cum with her tongue just before it began to drip off the engorged head and he moaned his approval. Buffy pulled him to her, her hands on his slim hips, and circled the mushroom head with her tongue before slowly and gently dropping her mouth over his cock. As the Spike below swirled his tongue within her, she lowered her mouth over her other lover’s manhood. She ticked her tongue back and forth over his hardness, matching the rhythm of Spike’s ministrations to her pussy.
Buffy was in heaven. Two absolutely fantastic lovers who wanted nothing more than to make love to her, who knew what she needed, what she desired, how to take her to the highest heights. She’d had some kinky dreams before and Spike had an imagination that wouldn’t quit, but having two Spikes – that was a new one, and one she hoped would keep repeating! She couldn’t quite figure out where they’d come from – neither was actually ‘her’ Spike, of that she was fairly certain. She’d tried to reach him in a dream the last couple of nights and had no luck at all. Unlike Limbo, the bond, apparently, could not transcend ‘normal’ dimensions. She didn’t know what made Limbo special, but she didn’t know that much about dimensions, really. After thinking about it, she realized that the lack of ‘crossover’ would normally be a good thing because much confusion would ensue if all the Spikes and Buffys across all the dimensions were linked with the bond – but in this case, it sucked.
Her lovers moaned her name in stereo, filling her senses with the wonder of their deep, rumbling voices as each of the three endeavored to give as much pleasure as they received. Buffy let go of Spike’s hips and used her hands to fondle his balls lightly, she could feel them tighten even more as she ran her fingers over his sac, back to his taint, teasing him as she began sucking down on his cock harder.
The lover beneath her was teasing her clit with his nose as he slammed his tongue into her hole hard and fast, he wanted her cum, she knew. Just a little more … she just needed a little more. As if he read her mind, he slid one hand from her hip, over the swell of her ass and pressed a finger into her puckered hole.
Buffy cried out around curly-Spike’s cock and slammed down on him harder, taking him deeper, swallowing the head of his cock with each thrust he made into her mouth. Autonomic tears welled in her eyes as he pumped deeper and deeper into her throat, but she didn’t stop him, she simply swallowed faster with every stroke. Yes, she wanted more. She wanted everything they could give her.
Her orgasm began to spread up from her loins; she could feel it rising in her as the two men fucked her and sucked and lapped at her juices. She wanted Spike’s cum in her mouth – wanted to taste him just as badly as he wanted to taste her. She dug the fingernails of one hand into his ass, drawing blood. She sucked down even harder on his cock and she was rewarded with an anguished cry of pleasure and his cum shooting into her as her own orgasm reached the top of her head and began to crash back over her.
Curly-Spike roared his release, his jizz shooting hard and fast into her eager mouth and she swallowed greedily. Her body quivered and her pussy tightened around Spike’s tongue, buried deep in her channel, and he was rewarded with her sweet nectar pouring down over his mouth and face.
She couldn’t breathe past Curly-Spike’s cock. Her heart thudded in her chest and she thought she might pass out, but the lack of oxygen actually heightened the power of her orgasm and sent her spinning on a dizzying carousel of bliss. Finally spent, Curly-Spike’s cock softened between her lips and Buffy gulped air greedily. She licked every drop of cum from his shaft, swirling her tongue round and round its softening length, savoring the feel of it, the taste of him in her mouth. He dropped to his knees in front of her, unable to stay upright another second, and captured her lips with his in a violent, almost angry, kiss. He devoured the cum that clung to her lips, kissing and licking his essence from her salty skin.
Then, just as she started back down from the ride, the Spike below her lifted her up off his face by the hips and pushed her back, down his body, to his neglected cock. Buffy guided him to her dripping slit and he thrust up and entered her in one powerful move. Her back arched and she thought she might topple over as he slammed his cock up into her harder and faster.
“Yes! God, Spike! Yes! Fuck me … Fuck me!” she screamed at him and he did. Suddenly she was flipped over onto her back and he was powering into her even harder, his pubic bone crashing against her clit and sending thousands of electrical shocks out to every part of her body.
“Cum for me, Buffy … give me everything,” he demanded of her, wanting to feel the exquisite pain of her pussy clenching around him in ecstasy, pulling him into her, holding him prisoner within her hot, tight walls.
Buffy dug into his back and shoulders with her nails as she matched his fervor stroke for stroke. They pulled back and slammed together violently as his cock threatened to tear her in two and she threatened to crush him with her passion.
Spike could feel his cum boiling, rising, shooting out, filling her, and he roared with the absolute unbridled fury of her. As his cock throbbed and pulsed in her, another orgasm crashed through her body and propelled them both up and up and up. Up to the top of a magnificent rollercoaster that then roared down, around curves and loops, making them both weightless as it flew faster and faster turning them upside down and inside out with the supreme pleasure of it.
The scream that finally escaped her throat was that of a creature Spike never knew existed, even in his wildest fantasies. She was a powerful, passionate lover who matched his desires more perfectly than anyone they’d ever known. He hungered for her always; it was a craving he knew he would never be able to satisfy. He would always and forever desire more, and having her like this only made him feel that more strongly.
Spike collapsed down atop her. Out of pure habit, his lungs struggled for unneeded air as every muscle in his body seemed to turn to jelly. Buffy wrapped her arms around his back and held him to her as her own lungs burned for more oxygen. Spike finally rolled off her and onto the warm sand beneath them and Buffy lay on her side, cuddled against him. Curly-Spike moved up behind her. He spooned against her back, laying a strong arm over her waist and settling his hand atop the other Spike’s flat stomach.
Buffy sighed again. She was back where she had started, surrounded by their love, their hard bodies protecting her from all dangers. The sound of the waves lapping softly against the shore near them lulled her back to sleep in their arms. She felt safe in their strong arms. Here she didn’t have to always be the Slayer; she could just be Buffy.
Buffy moaned and moved a hand to touch her head, which was spinning, but not in the good way it had been in the dream. She felt the familiar weight of Spike against her back and she took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out slowly. She tried to remember what happened and figure out which memories were dreams and which were real. It all seemed real, the two Spikes on the beach seemed real, so did the red-eyed vampires … one certainly wasn’t. I vote for the red-eyed Jacks being the dream…
“Spike?” she called softly, praying to anyone who would listen for some mundane explanation for her hallucinations – like she got hit on the head and didn’t actually jump into a portal to save Annie … Annie!
Buffy suddenly jumped up, knocking Spike onto the floor as she looked around for her daughter. “Annie!” she cried, throwing the rugs off her as Spike tried to hold onto that wonderful dream one minute longer. The hysterical Slayer wasn’t making that easy.
“Spike!” Buffy yelled again, not seeing her daughter anywhere. “Where’s Annie!? Spike, damn it, wake up!” she demanded, grabbing him by the shoulders and physically shaking him awake. “Where’s Annie?!”
“No worries…” he moaned as his eyes fluttered open and he looked up at her. Panic replaced the peaceful joy she’d had in her eyes in his dream and he knew he was awake. Dream Buffy was a lot more …
“Oh my God!” Buffy exclaimed, just noticing that she was naked – and so was he. “What the hell did you do!? Where’s Annie!? Where are we? What the hell’s going on, Spike!?” she fired off at him as she grabbed one of the rugs and held it up in front of her body.
Spike was still lying on his back where she’d knocked him and he slowly raised up onto his elbows and looked at her, rolling his eyes. Dream Buffy was a lot less modest, for one thing.
“Saved your sorry ass,” he informed her with a smirk, making no move to cover himself.
“Back at base … she’s fine. Oz took ‘er,” Spike assured her.
“She … are you sure? She’s ok – did she jump?”
“Noooo … thank the stars she’s got more sense than her barmy mum,” Spike replied sarcastically as he slowly stood up facing her.
“She didn’t jump? I told her to jump! What was she thinking!? Was she hurt?”
“A couple o’ scratches – she’s fine. Brave little bit ya got there, Slayer,” Spike told her sincerely.
“Why can’t anyone do what I fucking say? ‘Jump!’ Is that so hard to understand?” Buffy ranted.
“Welcome to my world, Slayer,” Spike lamented, cocking a brow at her. “If someone woulda left when I bloody well told them to … someone wouldn’t’ve had to jump in the water with the soddin’ leeches and someone else wouldn’t have had to jump in to save someone’s sorry ass.”
“Oh, shut up,” Buffy growled at him. “Wait! What? Leeches?”
Spike held out his arms, displaying all the dark purple bruises on his body for her. Buffy looked down at her own body as she held the rug up in front of her. “Oh! Gross! Leeches!? Jesus Christ, is there nothing in this world that isn’t infested with disgusting blood-sucking demons?”
Spike looked down at his body, spreading his arms out again as if to say ‘here’, then looked back up at her, indicating the non-disgusting blood-sucker standing right in front of her.
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Get over yourself, Spike. I’ve seen it before … and apparently now, we’re even.”
“Well … not sure that makes us even, Slayer. I mean, apparently you’ve had the pleasure of this tight, hot little body but I, on the other hand…”
“That’s not happening,” Buffy informed him decisively.
Spike shrugged. “Can’t blame a bloke for tryin’.”
“I’d think something was wrong if you didn’t, Spike,” Buffy assured him, rolling her eyes again. “Did the leeches eat our clothes too?”
Spike snorted. “No … they were wet and cold. Left ‘em out on the landing. Maybe I can build a fire out there t’ dry ‘em with. If you stay here I don’t think the smoke’ll be too bad.”
“Why can’t we just, you know, put them on and go back to base?”
“Didn’t know you fancied another swim with the leeches, pet,” Spike explained. “Entrance to the cave’s flooded, gotta wait for low tide … probably be a few hours.”
Buffy sighed and shook her head as she looked around at the familiar office – Mr. Shark’s place. “Belong to a friend of yours?” she asked waving an arm out.
Spike shrugged. “Business acquaintance at one time. Long gone now, along with everything else that could get the bloody hell outta this godforsaken place.”
Buffy nodded solemnly. Spike started past her to go see about building a fire to dry their clothes and she stopped him by laying a hand on his arm. His eyes met hers and the emerald eyes of the woman of his dreams looked softly back at him.
“Thanks,” she offered sincerely.
Spike shrugged but then nodded before turning away and heading down the hall to the landing to tend to their cold and wet clothes.
Buffy sat down on the couch and closed her eyes. Apparently worlds with two Spikes on warm beaches didn’t actually exist. It was just her luck that worlds with super strong, NBA all-star, Jack O’ Lantern vamps did.
After a few minutes, Spike came back in. He had his wet jeans back on although he’d left his t-shirt, duster and boots out y the fire he’d built using furniture from some of the rooms in Mr. Shark’s abandoned lair.
He dropped down into a chair off to the side of the couch where Buffy was sitting, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes. Despite the sleep he’d gotten, he still felt exhausted. Of course, the dreams he had didn’t help in the rest department any – they seemed so real. Dreams of warm beaches and a Slayer with more passion, and more of a dark side, than he’d ever imagined before, left him yearning for more.
Buffy opened her eyes and looked at him. He had been taking her on an emotional roller coaster ride since she’d gotten here. She never knew which Spike she’d meet next – teasing and smirky, regretful and emotional, cold and distant, or bossy and insufferable. He seemed to change his mood more often than he changed his socks.
She wanted to talk to him about it, but honestly didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want him to retreat into that cold and distant mood he’d had after they’d gotten to base. Even though she told herself over and over that he was not her Spike, it didn’t matter. When he treated her like that, it hurt. When he was ‘large and in charge,’ it aggravated the shit out of her, at times pushing buttons she didn’t even know she had. Regretful and emotional she knew – she knew how to deal with that, how to assure William’s tender heart. Teasing and smirky wasn’t a problem, she could banter with Spike and give back as good as she got. She wondered how many more personalities he had hidden in there. Sybil had nothing on this Spike, of this she was certain.
“You might as well just say it, Slayer.” Spike spoke without opening his eyes or moving anything but his lips.
“Say what?” Buffy asked innocently.
“Whatever’s rambling around in that pretty little head o’ yours.”
“Why do you think anything’s rambling around?” she asked with a frown. Add the ‘Annoying Kreskin’ to the list of Spike personalities.
“Vampire senses. I can hear the little hamster runnin’ on the wheel … squeak, squeak … bloody annoying, it is,” Spike replied, still not opening his eyes, his head resting against the high back of the chair. “Oughta oil that thing once in a while, Slayer.”
Buffy rolled her eyes. And Spike the comedian steps into the limelight.
“Ok, fine … since you brought it up,” Buffy began. “What’s with the multiple personalities?”
Spike opened one eye and looked at her. “Beg pardon?”
“Well, let’s see … we had the Spike that tried to kill me, then the Spike that saved me, then the Spike that helped me, the Spike that cleaned my wounds and the Spike that stood guard all night while I slept. Then there was the regretful Spike, the forlorn guilt-ridden Spike, the smirky Spike, sexy Spike, fatherly Spike … uhhh … Oh, Generalíssimo Spike, cold and distant Spike … have I missed any?”
“I’m complicated, what can I say, luv?” Spike smirked, finally opening his other heavy eyelid. “And, for the record, I think I like ‘King Spike’ better than Generalíssimo. Got a certain flair, don’t ya think? Maybe I could get a crown … or a tiara. Do you think I’d look good in a tiara, luv?”
And there was that annoying, button-pushing Spike … pushing Buffy’s annoyance button. How can you have a serious conversation with a man talking about tiaras? I mean – it’s just not possible. Buffy stared daggers at him but he didn’t notice since he had closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the chair again.
“I know what you’re doing,” she informed him.
“Do ya now? Bloody good on ya, Slayer. Sussed out the sleeping bit from the closed eyes, did ya? Musta given that little hamster some extra kibbles t’day.”
Buffy felt like her eyes were gonna roll out of her head. She suddenly needed a drink … in fact, a lot of drinks wouldn’t hurt. He was making her crazy with his barrier of glib remarks. She got up and went over to the wall next to the now empty fish tank and found the latch for the secret door that concealed Mr. Shark’s wet bar. Spike pretended not to notice her, but followed her movements under the veil of his thick lashes.
Buffy sighed when she opened the bar – one fancy bottle of tequila was all that remained. Well, that would just have to do. She preferred her tequila in Margaritas, but back to the beggars and choosers way of life. She grabbed a whiskey tumbler and sat back down on the couch with her prize.
“Bloody hell … how’d you know that was there?” Spike exclaimed when he saw what she’d found – looking from the now empty bar to the bottle in her hand.
Buffy smirked. “Musta been those extra kibbles I fed my hamster today,” she replied sarcastically as she poured some of the amber liquid into the glass and downed it in a gulp. It burned all the way down and warmed her from the inside out. She poured another one.
“Didn’t Joyce ever teach you the golden bloody rule?” Spike questioned as he sat forward in his seat.
Buffy raised her brows. “Finders keepers, losers weepers?”
“Share and share alike,” Spike provided as he got up and retrieved another glass from the bar.
“I’m relatively sure that’s not the golden rule,” Buffy argued, downing another shot.
“Yeah, well … my kingdom, my soddin’ rules,” Spike continued as he held his glass out for her to fill.
“Is it your mission in life to make me crazy?” Buffy wondered as she grudgingly poured a splash in the bottom of his glass. Spike used his finger to tip the bottle further when she started to pull it back and filled his glass to the top.
“Not sure, pet – how would I know when I’d succeeded?”
“There’d be little hamster droppings coming out of my ears.”
“Sexy as hell that’d be, Slayer,” Spike assured her sarcastically as he downed his full glass of tequila in three long swallows and held it back out for her to refill.
Buffy poured his glass full again. “Almost as sexy as sitting in a cave with a welcome mat for clothes getting drunk on a shark’s tequila with an obnoxious vampire set on world domination through the golden … hic … rule.”
Spike looked at the rug she was still holding over her front and only then noticed that it was, indeed, a welcome mat. He laughed and sat back down in his chair with his refilled drink. “Bloody poetic, that.”
Buffy sniffed. “Yeah, if yuura hooker,” she agreed, her words already slurring. Had she actually eaten anything today? She couldn’t recall.
“Do you have any bloody idea how much I love you, Slayer?” Spike asked out of the blue, his voice deadly serious. He sat forward to look her in the eyes, to judge her reaction.
Buffy sobered immediately. She chewed her bottom lip and nodded solemnly. “I’m sorry, Spike … I’m sorry I can’t be …”
“I know that. Don’t you think I bloody well know that? You make me crazy – havin’ you so bloody close, close enough to touch but knowing I can never touch you. Seeing that girl, Anne Joyce … she called me dad … lookin’ into m’ own eyes. You got any idea what that does t’ me?”
Tears welled in Buffy’s eyes and she nodded although she really didn’t think she could imagine how hard that would be. She had a home to go back to – a Spike to go back to; he had nothing. When she was gone, he’d just have Riley – a little cold comfort, someone to take his frustrations out on, but no one to love.
Spike snorted derisively and downed his drink. “And you gotta ask ‘bout bloody multiple personalities? I’m dying just being next to you. Buffy … I can’t … can’t get lost in ya, luv. If I do, I’ll never …” Spike let his voice trail off as he stared at the empty glass in his hand, unable to even look at her.
Finally he summoned the courage to meet her eyes. The pain in his blue eyes tore at her heart and she wished she could do something to take it away, not just in this moment, but permanently. “I got a promise to keep to a lady, pet. When you’re gone, I’ll still have that mission. I can’t get lost in you, can’t … can’t turn into a bloody ponce and forget that you aren’t mine.
“So, yeah … I gotta keep you away, can’t let you worm your way under m’ bloody skin and drive me crazier than I already am. I already dream of you every bloody night,” Spike admitted, holding his glass out for a refill.
Buffy tilted the bottle and filled his glass as she blinked back her tears. She knew the feeling … or at least part of what he was feeling. She’d felt it before in the Wish World; she knew the desperation and depression and anger and guilt and longing first-hand. Buffy took a deep breath and nodded her understanding of the cold shoulder he’d given her. He was just trying to protect what little was left of his heart; she would have probably done the same, or even worse, in his position.
“So … I guess what you’re saying is, I get under your skin like … ringworm. I get how that would be … unpleasant,” she offered sympathetically looking down at her empty glass.
Spike snorted and took another sip of his tequila. “More like bloody jock itch, you are, Slayer.
“Here’s t’ you and tequila, luv – ya both make me bug-shaggin’ crazy,” Spike toasted, lifting his glass towards her. He didn’t wait for her to join him before lifting his glass to his lips and throwing back the rest of the amber liquid in one gulp as he drank to his own toast.
You and Tequila, Kenny Chesney & Grace Potter
Baby, here I am again, kicking
dust in the canyon wind
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