four chapter spuffy Halloween ficlett with some drama, lots of smutty
goodness, and a bit of romance, but no real angst.
What if Halloween in Season 6 came after Spike and Buffy had been
shagging for a while? Takes place sometime after ‘Dead Things’ but
before ‘As You Were’. Halloween, and Spike’s offer of a bit of the
‘rough and tumble’, has been rescheduled to a time when Buffy would
accept that invitation.
While Dawn went on a covert 'double date' with Janice and the two
vampires, Justin and Zack, Buffy and Spike had some rough and tumble
plans of their own. Where might this night lead when things get
complicated and Buffy’s secret slips out?
The first chapter of this story will sound familiar to regular
Unexpected ‘Verse readers, but the chapters that follow are all new.
Thanks to Anona for her grammatical
and punctuation corrections and commentary that always makes me smile, and
to Paganbaby for her invaluable input and ideas!
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.
Buffy shook her head
as she studied Spike’s self-satisfied expression across the small table. He had
money. He’d just been playing them all this time – maintaining his image.
Spike could cook – well: French-gourmet-well. He could speak a couple of demon
languages and at least a couple of human languages; she’d seen the poetry books
he tried to keep hidden downstairs along-side his well-worn copies of
‘Penthouse’ and several J.R.R Tolkein novels; he religiously recorded and
watched ‘Passions’, the most inane soap Buffy had ever had the misfortune of
seeing; and he could fight like a black-belt or a street brawler, depending on
his mood and the opponent …
It reminded Buffy of
quote she’d heard somewhere along the way during her short but disastrous
collegiate days, or it might’ve been from ‘Star Trek’ ... or was it 'The
Simpsons'? Spike was a riddle,
wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. What else was he hiding beneath
Certain that Buffy
was satisfied with his answer about where he’d gotten everything, Spike stood up
and offered her his hand. “Dance with me.”
Buffy dabbed daintily at her
mouth with her napkin and set it down before taking his hand. Spike symbolically
held his breath as he led her onto the open floor of the crypt and wrapped his
arms around her gently. The music was soft and low enough to talk over, but loud
enough to hear clearly when you weren’t talking. Buffy leaned into him and let
him lead her in a slow, swaying dance to the romantic music. Spike allowed his
breath to flow out as she relaxed against him. Despite how well the night had
gone and what she’d said the previous night, he was still afraid she might bolt
at the slightest show of tenderness; his heart was once again buoyed when she
“Can’t tell you how
many times I’ve dreamt o’ dancin’ with you, Buffy,” Spike whispered into her ear
as their bodies swayed together to the slow beat of the music.
“I thought you said
that’s all we’ve ever done,” Buffy teased.
Spike smiled down at
“Reckon there’s dancin’ and then there’s dancin’, luv.”
"Mmmm," was Buffy's only
reply as she settled her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, allowing
him to led their slow and gentle dance
a dance unlike any they'd
ever done before. Neither of them spoke again as the music flowed over them,
neither wanting to break the magical spell that seemed to have come over the
evening. But it wasn't magic, not witch-magic at any rate, of that Buffy was
perhaps a different kind of
everyday magic. As she listened to the words of the song that was playing she
felt a stab of pain, or perhaps melancholy, press into her heart.
You are not alone... But the
Slayer was always alone. I'm always there with you... When your world's crashing down
... Buffy's world had crashed and burned ... then rose up from the ashes
only to crash again – but Spike had been there beside her through it all.
She felt her chest constrict and emotion well at the base of her throat as she
leaned against him ...In my heart you have remained
Babe, you're not lost.
♫I hardly recognized
the girl you are today
And God I hope it's not too late
It's not too late
'Cause you are not alone
I'm always there with you
And we'll get lost together
Till the light comes pouring through
'Cause when you feel like you're done
And the darkness has won
Babe, you're not lost
When your world's crashing down
And you can't bear the thought
I said, babe, you're not lost
Life can show no mercy
It can tear your soul apart
It can make you feel like you've gone crazy
But you're not
Things have seem to changed
There's one thing that's still the same
In my heart you have remained
And we can fly, fly, fly away
♫'Cause you are not alone
And I am there with you
And we'll get lost together
Till the light comes pouring through
'Cause when you feel like you're done
And the darkness has won
Babe, you're not lost
When the world's crashing down
And you can not bear the cross
I said, baby, you're not lost♫
As the song ended, Spike stopped moving
and lifted her chin up gently with one finger. He felt like a thirteen-year-old
on his first date instead of a century-old vampire as he leaned down and touched
his lips to hers. He could hear Buffy’s heartbeat surge and his own body tingled
from head to toe as he dropped that first tentative, gentle kiss on her soft
lips. Buffy responded in kind with an unhurried, uncertain nibble on his bottom
lip. They stood there in the candlelight for many minutes, tasting, testing,
teasing one another’s mouth as if they’d never kissed before. The words of the
song swirled in Buffy's head as they kissed and she couldn't help but feel a ray
of hope blossom somewhere deep inside her. 'Cause when you feel like you're done;
And the darkness has won;
Babe, you're not lost. She'd been feeling so very lost. Was it possible
Spike could really find her again ... all of her?
couldn’t stop the words he’d been longing to say to her from spilling from his
heart. He’d said them to her before, and they’d sent her scurrying away from
him, but he couldn’t stop them from tumbling from his lips. The moment was too
perfect, too overwhelming for him to stop. “I love you, Buffy ... I'll always
slightly in his arms, but didn’t pull away – she also didn’t answer him.
“I know you don’t
love me, but …” he continued, anxious to fill the silence.
interrupted, laying a gentle finger on his lips to quiet him, her voice was
husky with emotion and she had to swallow back tears that had crept up while
they'd been dancing. “I don’t … I think
you were right. I think I came back wrong.”
He began to object,
to say he’d just said that to provoke her, but she shushed him.
“I think we both
know I came back wrong. I mean … there’s something wrong deep inside me and I
don’t know if I’ll ever be right again. Spike, I don’t know if I’m capable of
loving … anyone. To be honest, I’m not sure if I ever was – even before.”
Spike pulled her
fingers away from his mouth and kissed them gently. “There’s nothing wrong with
you, Buffy. I know you’ve had a bad go of it, but …”
Buffy snorted and
pulled away from him, turning away to look at a bank of candles in one corner.
Spike stepped up behind her and wrapped one arm across her chest from shoulder
to shoulder, pulling her back against him. He leaned his mouth down near her
ear. “You don’t have to love me now, Buffy. I didn’t say it just to have it
parroted back – I said it ‘cos it’s how I feel and I want you to know. I hope
that one day… one day you’ll feel it too, and that you won’t run from it, luv.”
“I’m not the one
that runs away,” Buffy whispered as the stabbing pain returned to her chest.
“No, you’re the one
that’s afraid to trust ‘er heart to another, luv. But now ya got me, don't ya? Spike
never runs, Spike never stops, Spike never gives up. So, ya won’t be runnin’ ole
Spike off, will ya? Nothing like those other wankers, am I?”
Buffy barked out a
small, sarcastic laugh. “I’ve heard that about you. Xander said you were
“Did he, now? Well,
reckon that’s the nicest thing the whelp’s ever said about me.”
“That was before he
actually knew you,” Buffy admitted.
“Ah, well … that
explains it then.”
Buffy turned in his
arms and looked up into his eyes. “Spike, I’m serious though – I know what I
said last night about wanting a real relationship, but I don’t know if I can
even do that – with anyone. I think … I’m broken.”
“Then let me fix
you, pet,” Spike pleaded, holding her gaze captive with his expressive blue
Buffy cursed the
tears that gathered in her eyes that forced her to blink and break the eye
contact. “What if you can’t?” she asked in a small, terrified voice. “You’d have
to be a miracle worker.”
“Last night you said
I was the only one that could make you feel. Let me help you, Buffy. You’re too
strong, too bloody passionate, for me t’ believe you can’t love again. Hell, ya
already love my cooking,” he pointed out. “I got lots more where that came
from…” he offered, wagging his brows suggestively.
“God, Spike,” she
laughed, shaking her head. “You are so …”
“Careful, Slayer …”
Buffy rolled her
eyes. “I was going to say, ‘you are so sure of me.’ How can you be so sure?”
slightly. “I know Slayers. I know you.”
“Humph, you didn’t
know I could ice skate,” she pointed out.
Spike gave her a
reassuring smile. “I know the really important bits. I know what you’re made of
and you don’t scare me.”
“You know, another
term for ‘goal-oriented’ could be ‘insanely-stubborn’,” Buffy pointed out.
“Pot, meet kettle,”
lightly, then reached up and laid her palm against his cheek gently. “Are you
sure?” she asked, her voice again tentative. “Are you sure you want this …
broken Slayer project? You know, DIY isn’t as easy as it looks on TV – and I
have the plumbing bill to prove it.”
Spike answered her
with another gentle kiss. “Not a bloody amateur or weekend warrior, Professional
Master Vampire, ‘ere, luv. Ty Pennington’s got nothin’ on me.”
drawled, her voice turning light and teasing. “You do know how to use your tool
… really well.”
Spike growled a
reply against her neck, sending shivers down Buffy’s spine. Buffy squealed in
surprise when he swept a strong arm under her knees and lifted her up into his
arms. “Reckon that’s my cue, eh? Tool time.”
Buffy laughed and
wrapped her arms around his neck. “That’s a really lame segue,” she informed
“Should I put ya
down and wait for a better one?” he asked, grinning wickedly.
“Don’t you dare!
“I think on TV they
say ‘Action,’ pet,” Spike teased.
agreed. “I’m all about the action.”
“I knew you would
be,” he purred as he started for the trapdoor with her in his arms.
When it was clear
that he wasn’t going to set her down to go down the ladder to the bedroom, she
got a bit nervous. “Uhhhh … I know about gallantry and all, but … I can climb
Spike stopped just
in front of the open trapdoor and jostled her lightly in his arms so she would
look at him instead of craning her neck and looking down the hole at his feet.
“Trust me, Slayer. I’d never hurt you, yeah?”
Buffy swallowed a
little nervously, then looked back at the steep ladder and the long drop to the
floor below. It wasn’t like she’d get seriously hurt, even if he did drop her.
The floor was thickly padded with layers of ‘reclaimed’ – or maybe purchased? –
carpets and rugs. On the other hand, the dress she had on was expensive and, now
that she’d worn it on their date, the emotional attachment to it had changed
from sadness about her mother to this night with Spike. She didn’t want anything
to happen to it – it was suddenly precious to her.
When she didn’t
immediately say anything, Spike prompted, “Give me this little bit, Buffy …
Buffy looked back up
at him. His blue eyes were hopeful and pleading. Trust me. Did he have
any idea how much he was asking of her in those two little words? Trust wasn’t a
Slayer’s biggest asset – or maybe it was just her. She’d trusted before and it
seemed that nearly every time she did, she was let down, her trust broken.
Trust me, I won’t hurt you, Spike’s intense blue eyes silently begged of
She nodded once, a
jerky, unsure motion, then she held her breath and waited for the letdown.
Spike felt a
physical weight lift off his heart at her tentative nod. It wasn’t a huge
outpouring of undying faith, but he knew for Buffy it was a giant step. With
that small, jerky nod she’d just opened the door and that was all he needed: one
wisp of a chance.
Spike tightened his
grip on her and, in one fluid, graceful motion, he leapt down from the upper
crypt into the bedroom – completely ignoring the ladder. Buffy gasped and yelped
in surprise, clinging tightly to his neck as they dropped down into the cavern
below. She braced herself for the ultimate tumble onto the floor or the ripping
sound when her long dress caught on a nail – but none of that happened. She felt
him absorb the impact with his legs, bending his knees when his feet hit the
floor, but he didn’t fall or even waver when they hit. One moment they were
falling through the air and the next they were standing on the floor of the
bedroom, as if he had just stepped down one stair. Buffy was pretty sure not
even she could’ve done that.
Spike grinned at her
shocked expression. “Told ya: I’ll never hurt you, Buffy,” he repeated as he
leaned in to kiss her again.
Buffy met his lips
with hers, but didn’t press or rush it. She let him kiss her softly, gently. She
let him nibble on her lips and tease her tongue with his as he cradled her in
his arms. His words swam through her mind as he kissed her, and she knew he
meant more than physically … in fact, he probably didn’t mean physically at all.
When he said he wouldn’t hurt her, her meant he wouldn’t hurt her heart,
wouldn’t break her trust, and she wanted desperately to believe him.
inside her something stirred – something she thought was dead and gone, never to
return. It felt so foreign she almost didn’t recognize it at first, but as he
kissed her with a tenderness that belied his supernatural, predatory strength,
it awoke. It was a need, deep and primal, but not the one Spike had already
awoken in her body. This need was soft and gentle – a purring kitten rather than
a roaring lion – and it wasn’t physical. It was an emotional, a spiritual, need:
the basic human desire for intimacy, for love. The need to share your
emotional-self with another living being and to receive the same emotions in
return was something Buffy had feared even before her death. She’d locked it
safely away, but now it was awakening inside her, like a dark, lost shadow
corporealizing into solid form, and it was terrifying.
Buffy broke the kiss
and wriggled in his arms until Spike lowered her feet to the floor. She turned
away from him and wrapped her arms around her stomach as if to hold the stirring
shadow-monster in check. She glanced at the ladder, the urge to run and hide
growing stronger. I’m not the one that runs away, her own words from
earlier that evening mocked her. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe. What
the hell was happening to her? What was Spike doing to her?
touched the back of her neck lightly and began to draw slow, soft circles on the
bare skin of her neck, shoulders, and back. Tingles of pleasure washed over her, tapping into that
physical need that he’d resurrected in her over the last weeks. The sensation
seemed to somehow mute the fear that had been rising in her and overshadow the
other need that had started to arise like a Phoenix from the ashes of her heart. She allowed
herself to ride that wave of pleasure, leaving the fear ebbing away in its wake.
Spike felt her body
relax again as he stroked his fingers over her soft skin. He wondered briefly if
he should stop this … this gentleseduction. It was obviously
making her wary and uncomfortable in a way their normal rough-and-tumble
copulating never did. But she’d given him that inch of trust … he couldn’t back
down now; it simply wasn’t in him to give up so easily.
Spike dropped his
lips to her bare shoulder and kissed her golden skin gently. Buffy shivered
beneath his touch as he kissed and licked and nibbled on her heated flesh. He
worked his way slowly from her shoulder to her neck, sliding her short hair away
and kissing the nape of her neck with the same feathery, butterfly-kisses. The
fine hairs at the base of her scalp stood on end as bolts of pleasure darted out
from his lips and flickered up and down her spine.
Buffy moaned and let
her chin fall to her chest to encourage him to continue, but the halter-type
strap of her dress was thwarting his advance. Spike detoured and kissed a line
of fire down her spine until it met the fabric of her dress. His delicate fingers
followed the path of his mouth and slowly tugged the zipper there down with a
slow, deliberate motion.
Buffy’s heart rate
sped up as the zipper slid down lower and lower, reveling the curve of her spine
and ending just above her hips. “So beautiful you are, pet,” Spike whispered
against her skin before he turned her around to face him again.
Buffy fought to keep
her thudding heart from galloping out of her chest. He’d said that to her
before, usually in the heat of the moment, and she’d always ignored it – just
let it pass. Tonight, in the flickering candlelight in his bedroom, which she
knew he’d worked to make cozy mostly for her benefit, she didn’t want to let it
pass by. “Am I?” she asked, touching her short hair tentatively.
Spike lifted her
eyes to his with a single finger beneath her chin. “Yes,” he replied, his voice
full of deep-seated emotion. “You’re a bloody goddess, Buffy. Most beautiful
creature in heaven or earth,” he assured her, his voice rough with the desire
and emotions her beauty stirred in him.
Buffy gave him a
shaky, tentative smile. “You aren’t so bad yourself,” she admitted, raising a
hand to trace one razor-sharp cheekbone.
Spike smiled at her
compliment – she didn’t give them freely, at least not to him – and turned his
face to drop a kiss on her palm.
Buffy slid her hand
down and began to unbutton his shirt. Spike stood perfectly still and watched
her as she undid each button with the same deliberate care that he’d taken on
her zipper. Her fingers danced over his chest and abs as she worked her way
down, and his muscles quivered under her touch. When she got to his belt, Buffy
skipped over it and pressed her hand against the growing bulge in his thin dress
pants. The pleats in the silken fabric didn’t hide anything; they simply made
it a bit less confining than his typical tight jeans.
Spike moaned when
she pressed her palm against the length of his erection, cupping her hot hand
around it through the fabric. Buffy rubbed her hand up and down over the length
of his hardness a couple of times, enjoying the feel of him beneath the silky
pants, before raising both hands back up and unfastening his belt. With his belt
and the clasp of his pants opened, Buffy pulled the tail of his shirt out of his
trousers, and slid it off his shoulders. The soft suede shirt had barely hit
the floor before her fingers were dancing gently over his bulging pecs and hard,
Spike stood still as
she explored his torso with gentle fingertips. Her eyes followed her hands over
his alabaster skin, so he was free to watch her face, unnoticed. He couldn’t
remember her ever touching him like this before – with reverence and admiration.
Her touch was feather-soft as her fingers trailed over the hills and valleys of
bone and muscle. Intellectually, he knew she could be gentle – he’d just never
experienced before; he barely even allowed himself to dream that she’d
ever touch him like this.
“Your skin’s so soft
… it’s … so strange because the muscles are so hard,” Buffy mused, never looking
up at his face. “It’s really not fair – you don’t even moisturize,” she pouted.
“I have a whole cabinet full of lotions and cleansers and serums – they cost
like … a million dollars – and my skin still isn’t as soft as yours.”
Spike chuckled and
trailed his fingers delicately over the bulb of muscle where her arm met her
shoulder. “We all have our crosses t’ bear, pet,” he teased. “You’re a walkin’
advert for Hawaiian Tropic … all over. How is it ya don’t have any tan lines,
luv?” he asked, cocking a brow at her. “Anywhere.”
wickedly. “Can’t give away all my Slayer secrets, can I?” she teased. “You don’t
have any tan lines either,” she pointed out, coyly.
Spike barked out a
genuine laugh. “Reckon that’s true. Me and the Pillsbury Dough Boy – separated
at birth, we were.”
Buffy poked a finger
at his hard, flat abdomen. “Ummm … I think you got cheated on the dough part. I
wonder if I can make you laugh like...” she began.
Spike grinned at
her and grabbed her hand before she could find any ticklish spots. She was kidding around! With him! In the bedroom no less! Wait – was that
one of the signs of the apocalypse? If it was, Spike was not going to waste it.
Banter with the Slayer had always been one of his favorite pastimes; friendly,
sexy, teasing banter was … whoa! Off the charts – more than he’d ever dreamed
of. “You complainin’’?” he wondered, smirking at her.
Buffy bit her bottom
lip and shoot her head. “Not in the least…” she breathed as she leaned in and
dropped a reverent kiss on his hard chest, right over his unbeating heart.
Spike dropped the hold
he had on her hand, fairly certain she wasn't going to try and tickle him again,
then reached out
and lifted the halter strap of her dress up over her head. When he released his
hold of the diaphanous material, the entire dress slid to the floor at Buffy’s
feet. She was naked save for her shoes and the white, lacy knickers she’d given
him a brief view of earlier – brief being perhaps the key word there.
They were little more than a small bit of lace in a vaguely diamond shape. The
lace was held in place with three, equally spaced, thin elastic bands that
hugged her hips and disappeared around behind her. The slender, white straps
only served to accentuate the deep golden tan of her stomach, hips, and thighs.
Spike found himself absurdly jealous of the wisps of fabric that encircled the
curve of her hips and clung to her as if in a lover’s embrace.
As his eyes wandered
over her candlelight-bathed body, Spike’s brain sputtered and fizzled. A bit of
smoke may have actually puffed from his ears as the pistons burned from lack of
any blood to lubricate the moving parts. She was a goddess; he hadn’t been lying
about that in the least. He rarely got a chance to simply gaze reverently at her
beauty. He felt like a ten-year-old who had just snagged the Victoria’s Secret
catalog out of the mailbox and locked himself in his room with it.
Her Slayer strength
was masked beneath a layer of soft feminine curves, which called to his most
primal needs like a Siren’s song. Her modest breasts were firm; their perfect
roundness made his palms tingle in anticipation of holding their supple
smoothness in his hands. The puckered, rosy areolas were tipped with pebbled
nipples that made his mouth water. He licked his lips lustfully, thinking about
pulling those hard, dainty nubs into his mouth and eliciting deep moans of
pleasure from her. Her beautiful quim was still hidden beneath the thin lace,
but the aroma of her arousal couldn’t be contained, and it floated up to him,
making his groin ache in need.
uncomfortably under Spike’s silent gaze. She fought to keep from folding her
arms over her breasts in modesty. It wasn't like he'd never seen her naked
before, but suddenly she felt self-conscious. This was different than anytime
they'd been together before: this meant something and it frightened her in more
ways than one. She could almost physically feel his
smoldering, blue eyes caressing every inch of her exposed skin. A wave of
prickling goose-bumps washed over her, hardening her nipples and flushing her
skin with heat and desire. She waited – waited for his eyes to come back to hers
– but he seemed mesmerized and unable to draw his gaze away from the rest of
her. Finally, in desperation and feigned confidence, she asked, “See anything
The words cut the
silence in the room and seemed to jump-start Spike’s brain again, allowing a bit
of blood to return from where it had all settled below his belt. A lecherous
grin spread over his features, touching more than just his lips, and he looked
up at her face at last. “No…” he rumbled out breathlessly. “See somethin’ I
Buffy’s face flushed
bright-pink and she swallowed nervously. That shadow in her soul shifted again,
solidified more, and pressed against the protective walls that surrounded her
heart. Would it be so wrong for you to say it back to him? the shadow
asked in a low, insistent voice inside her head. Buffy closed her eyes, trying
to gather her thoughts into something coherent and slightly less psychotic. Her
heart pounded against her ribs, the sound seemed to echo through her whole body
and she envisioned the shadow-monster banging its fists against her defenses.
Well, would it be so wrong to say it back to him? she asked herself
as the pounding intensified.
“I …” Buffy started,
but her voice faltered and died. Buffy blinked her eyes open and saw the hope in
Spike’s eyes – genuine, boyish hope. She felt like something inside her cracked,
and the shadow-monster that had been resurrected from the ashes began to leak
out, like water seeping through a fissure in a dam. “I …” she tried again, but
the moment had passed. It was too late. The hopeful joy that had been in those
blue eyes faltered along with her voice. She closed her eyes again, unable to
look into the azure depths of Spike’s another moment. “I’m sorry…” she
Her apology was
accepted with a gentle kiss upon first one closed eyelid and then the other.
Then his lips touched hers and his hands roamed gently over her flushed skin,
sending her heart racing even faster. Buffy lifted her arms and encircled his
neck as she pressed against him. His cool, hard body felt wonderful against her
over-heated skin, and she pressed harder, slowly swiveling her hips against his
Spike moaned into
her mouth and deepened the kiss as her breasts pressed against his chest and her
hips ground hard against his erection. She tasted faintly of chocolate and
garlic and Buffy. The latter was an enigmatic flavor that was impossible
to fully define: sweet and spicy mingled with a splash of tartness and just the
barest hint of fruity, nutty goodness.
Spike cupped his
hands on her bare ass and lifted Buffy just barely off her feet. He turned them
around and began walking slowly toward the bed, never breaking the kiss. Buffy
cooperated by lifting her legs and wrapping them around his slim hips, only then
fully remembering that she’d never finished getting his pants or her shoes off.
When Spike’s legs hit the foot of the bed, he leaned forward and gently set his
passenger down on the soft mattress. He disentangled himself from her arms and
legs and moved back a step to finish disrobing.
through lidded eyes as he carefully unzipped his pants and let them fall to the
floor. She licked her lips as the rest of his body was revealed in all its
masculine splendor. She’d had plenty more opportunities to study him in the Full
Monty than he’d had her. He was unabashed about his nudity, unlike her,
and would blithely carry on conversations, retrieve drinks or cigarettes, or
just walk around for no apparent reason in the nude. She, on the other hand,
would generally dress as soon as her legs began working again after their
rendezvous, and skedaddle pretty shortly after that. But, no matter how many
times she saw it, it still made her mouth water and her breath quicken. Spike
may be a cocky bastard, but it turned out he had every reason to be.
“See anything you
like, pet?” Spike asked as he smirked down at her, tossing her own teasing words
back at her.
Buffy flushed pink
but grinned wickedly. “Oh yeah…” she answered. “Me likey.”
Spike chuckled just
as wickedly as she was grinning, and moved back between her legs, which now
dangled off the end of the bed. He lifted one lean, tan leg up, running his
hands from her thigh, over her knee, and calf. When he got to the strap on her
shoe, he gently slid a finger under it and slipped it off her small foot. He
dropped it to the floor with a soft thud, the impact muffled by the layers of
soft carpet, then repeated the procedure on the other leg and foot. His eyes
followed his hands as they raked over the lean muscles of her leg, pausing
momentarily to tease the soft skin at the back of her knee, before continuing on
Buffy watched him
devour her legs with his eyes. His hands were almost superfluous; it was his
eyes that seemed to burn her skin as he moved down each leg in turn. His
cerulean gaze raking over her body set her on fire like the beam of a brilliant,
When his hands moved to her hips and his fingers hooked under the slender straps
of her thong, she felt his eyes set her core on fire. Buffy lifted her butt up
as Spike slid his hands down over the curve of her hips, taking the lacy, damp
knickers with them. Spike’s eyes smoldered with lustful desire as her smooth quim was revealed from beneath her lace finery.
Buffy’s whole body
tingled in anticipation. Generally, their encounters didn’t involve a lot of
anticipation, unless you counted the walk, or run, to the crypt or other dark
corner. Usually their time together was a rushed, intense, often violent affair
which didn’t include much time to notice how loud her heart sounded as it
pounded in her ears, or how the hairs on the back of her neck prickled, or how
every cell in her body shivered as she waited for him to touch her. But she
noticed now. She noticed how she couldn’t seem to catch her breath and how
Spike’s cock jumped when his senses of sight and smell were bombarded with the
view of her fully nude form and the scent of her arousal.
Buffy wriggled and
slid up further onto the bed so her head was on the pillows, opening her legs to
him and making room for him to join her. A low, throaty growl resonated from
somewhere deep inside as Spike leaned forward and crawled on all fours,
following in her wake. His movements were graceful and deliberate, like a
panther stalking its prey, and his eyes burned with lustful desire.
Buffy couldn’t help
but notice the shifting muscles of his arms as he moved. His triceps, bathed in
the soft glow from the candles on each side of the bed, drew her attention.
Those strong muscles on the backs of his arms undulated sinuously with each
movement, supple and lithe, bulging with the weight of his upper body as he
moved. When he got within reach, Buffy raised her hands and trailed her fingers
down from his shoulders, over those oh-so-fine triceps, and back up again,
feeling every flowing dip and swell of preternatural, masculine strength.
Spike dipped his
head and circled one rosy nipple with the tip of his tongue, teasing her hot
flesh with a wispy, gentle touch. Buffy’s back arched
and her fingers dug into the hard muscles of his upper-arms as a moan purred
from her throat. The electricity of
anticipation that had been building in her like a force-field over her skin
exploded from the contact and sent tingling jolts of power cascading through
her. She hissed and gasped in pleasure when Spike’s lips and teeth closed over her
pebbled nub, sucking and nibbling lightly on her sensitive flesh.
“Spike…” she moaned,
finally loosening her grip on his deltoids and running her hands gently along
the sides of his torso as he remained on all fours above her. She could feel his
soft skin quiver under her touch, feel the hard muscles beneath twitch and jump,
as if her hands were conveying the jolts of electricity she was feeling to him.
Spike released her
nipple and kissed a line of fire over the swell of her breast and all around the
other, which had been neglected. Buffy gasped when more of those sparks of
desire cascaded over her as he teased her other nipple with his talented tongue,
flicking against it lightly before sucking down on it in earnest. Her body
bowed up off the mattress in an attempt to reach his, and their hips met – his
hardness pressing against her soft, wet folds.
Spike moaned his
approval, vibrating his lips over her nipple, and Buffy wrapped her legs around
his slim hips, capturing him. The prey had suddenly become the predator – or at
least the captor.
“Make love to me,
William,” Buffy whispered up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck gently.
Spike pulled back to
look into her eyes and, for once, Buffy didn’t look away. She shivered as she
felt his intense gaze delve into her, as if he could see her very soul. The
resurrected shadow of love inside her seemed to reach out through the cracked
and crumbling walls that protected her heart. She could feel a battle waging
inside her as it tried to grab a hold of those azure beams of adoration that
were boring into her. She was at once hopeful that it would succeed in breaking
free and terrified that it would.
Buffy opened her
mouth to try and speak, but words once again escaped her. She kept her green
eyes focused on Spike’s even as she felt his hips shift, his body move, his
hardness searching for her opening along her wet slit. She couldn’t breathe,
couldn’t even move to help him at that moment, despite how she longed to feel
him inside her. She could only watch his eyes, so expressive, so intuitive, so
full of desire and … God, help her, love.
“Oh, Buffy,” Spike
murmured as he pressed into her at last, never taking his eyes from hers. He was
suddenly engulfed in the utter beauty and passion of her. Pressing into her wet,
supple heat, feeling her body momentarily resist then give way, stretch to take
his hardness in, and then close around him. His only wish was that he could
penetrate her heart as readily. Her green eyes shone with desire in the soft
light, then with blissful joy as he felt a small orgasm titter through her. He
strove to convey everything he was feeling through his eyes; all his hopes, all
his love, all his devotion and respect and adoration. Would it be enough to
breach her defenses? Could he touch that last, hidden bastion that held the one
thing he desired now above all others: her love?
trembled and a small, shuddering orgasm flooded over her as Spike pressed in. He
moved more slowly than she thought possible, stretching her and filling her with
so much more than his physical self. His eyes were still locked onto hers and
she fought to keep her eyes open through the wave of bliss, taking in everything
he was giving her – emotional and physical. As the lovers began to move together
to the age-old rhythms of desire, neither gaze wavered. Buffy let Spike lead the
dance, a slow, sensuous tango, that built steadily to what she knew would be a
Leaning on his
elbows, his body cradled against Buffy’s, Spike kept the tempo slow, unhurried;
a sharp contrast to the usually frantic pace they set. He studied her eyes, her
soft verbalizations, and the shudders in her body, noticing which movements of
his hips made her gasp, which made her moan, which made her whisper his name,
and which made her eyes widen and her pupils dilate further. He made slow circles and
figure-eights, grinding down on her clit with his pubic bone on the down-stroke.
Sometimes he’d press hard, other times it would be barely enough to graze her
yearning flesh. Her body moved with his, as if they both heard the same, slow
drummer in their heads – as if they were made for each other.
Spike knew she was
the perfect contrast to him – as if she were made to balance him and he her. Her
soft curves were the perfect complement to his sharp angles; her suppleness the
perfect accompaniment to his hardness; her light to his dark, her heat to his
chill, her soul to his soullessness; her Slayer the ideal foil for his demon. He
had known it for many long months, since long before her death. Now he fought
against the barriers she had up that kept her from seeing, from feeling,
the truth of them. He fought with everything he had: his mind, his body, his
heart … and that bit of William that remained beneath the demon.
thudded in her chest as the dance intensified and the rhythm of the phantom
drumbeat quickened. She clung to Spike with arms and legs, fighting hard to keep
her eyes open and locked on his. At some point she’d realized that she actually
wanted him to scale the wall around her heart and rescue her from this half-life
she had been living, despite the deep-seated fear that he would succeed.
Even before her
death and resurrection, she’d been slowly building that wall and every failure
made it higher and stronger. Every time she trusted and was let down, another
layer of defense was erected. From her dad, to Angel, to Ford, to Parker, and
beyond – they all took her trust and crushed it. Then came Professor Walsh, who
tried to kill her, and Riley’s ultimate betrayal. But the final blow was her
most trusted mentor: Giles. His suggestion – his urgent demand – that they kill
Dawn to keep Glory from opening the portal, had been a blow to the deepest level
of trust she had. That he would so coldly suggest they kill her sister – the
only family Buffy had left – had rocked the very foundation of her world. Buffy
had steeled herself after that blow; she had taken that broken foundation and
reinforced the walls even further, making them quite impenetrable.
And now she wished
with every fiber of her being that there was someone strong enough, loyal
enough, true enough, brave enough to knock a hole in that high, thick wall and
let her live again.
“Spike, God, please
… please, please,” Buffy begged, willing him to somehow understand what it was
And somehow, as he
always seemed to, he did. “Trust me, Buffy. Let me in – I swear I’ll never hurt
you,” he vowed, punctuating his words with the strong thrust of his hips against
her. “I love you, Buffy Anne Summers. I’ll love you for-bloody-ever. Trust me,
Slayer … trust … me.”
“Spike! Oh … God …
oh … Spike …” Buffy moaned as her body came to the edge of that oh so familiar
chasm of bliss. She could no longer maintain eye contact with him; her eyes
fluttered closed and she lifted her mouth to his in a desperate kiss. Their
dance became more frantic as their lips crushed together. Their bodies seemed
intent on fusing together and their hips began slamming against the other,
driving Spike’s hardness deeper and deeper into Buffy’s hot, supple core.
“Buffy, please …
trust me…” Spike groaned against her lips before resuming the passionate kiss.
He drove into her with every fiber of his being, begging her with actions,
thoughts, and words to believe what was in his heart.
Suddenly, that ledge
that Buffy had been on the verge of falling off of changed into a tall, wide,
rough-hewn stone wall. She could see that parts of it had started to crumble and
break away where the shadow of her trust, of her love, had tried to escape its
dank, dusty confines. Now she stood atop the wall of her own design, unsure
which way to fall.
One side was dark
and cold, but although she couldn’t see the bottom, she knew safety lay that
way. She could tell that her heart would be safe in the buffer of darkness and
self-reliance. ‘She who stands alone’ could rein the rebelling shadow in, shove
it back down into the dark, dank safety of the Slayer Bastille.
On the other side of
the wall was freedom – and danger. A sparkling, azure ocean the color of Spike’s
eyes stretched out below. It looked warm and welcoming, but she could see jagged
rocks, coral reefs, and oyster beds lying just below the surface, waiting to rip
her apart if she dove in.
She stood there, the
compulsion to jump, one way or the other, growing stronger with every passing
moment as Spike brought her closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. A thousand
warring images flashed through her mind in a millisecond. Snapshots of all the
deceitful, careless, cruel, and just plain evil people she’d trusted over her
life flooded her and then gave way to images of everything Spike had done to her
and for her. He hadn’t always been someone she would trust – in fact, he’d done
some pretty disturbing, untrustworthy things – but she couldn’t remember him
telling her an out-and-out lie about anything really important. When he was
trying to kill her, he was completely up-front about it; when he was trying to
shag her, he didn’t hide it behind anything else; and now he said he loved her
and that he’d never hurt her.
Buffy felt herself
take a step toward the sparkling, dangerous ocean as her body began to tremble
and convulse. The tidal-wave of bliss that had been building in her was on the
verge of breaking over her. It would send her plummeting off the wall one way or
the other – she had to decide which way to fall.
“Cum with me, luv …
Buffy … love you … love you so bloody much,” Spike gasped against her lips, his
voice quavering with emotion, as his hips slammed against her, sending her
teetering on the very brink of orgasmic oblivion.
In her mind’s eye,
she looked out at the dangerous freedom of the ocean and then back at the safety
of her self-imposed prison. Could her heart take one more pounding on the
proverbial rocks without being irreparably shattered? If her trust was given and
broken even one more time, would she ever trust herself again? And if she
couldn’t trust even herself, then what would she have? What was a Slayer who
couldn’t trust their instincts? Simple: A dead Slayer.
Trust me, Buffy …
I’ll never hurt you … I’ll never betray you … I love you, Spike’s promises
echoed in her head, pleading with her to believe.
But hadn’t she heard
all that before, more than once? Buffy wavered precariously, doubt seeping into
her very bones as the mountainous, supernatural tidal wave of bliss crashed down
Buffy braced herself
and fell from the precipice as the orgasmic wave washed over her, drowning her
in blissful ectasy.
Spike’s roar of
release exploded against Buffy’s mouth as her own shriek of pleasure tore from
her throat. The lovers floated blissfully on the tide of pleasure; shuddering,
spent bodies entwined as the waves of euphoria washed over them, engulfing them.
Buffy felt herself
splash down into the sparkling, crystal-blue water, but she’d no sooner landed
than the waves were driving her right toward the jagged rocks. Her panic built
as second-thoughts bombarded her mind and she began to look for a way back to
the safety of her dungeon. But then, as if by magic, strong hands grabbed her
under her arms and pulled her away from the danger. She was hauled up and
backwards in one swift motion, and fell unceremoniously into the bottom of a
rubber life raft. She scrambled around to find Spike there, flashing his cocky
smirk at her; the name on the side of the small boat next to him read ‘RMS
“Need a lift,
She flung herself at
him, knocking them both back into the bottom of the rubber raft. She wrapped
herself around him, arms and legs holding tightly, and captured his lips in a
frantic kiss that degenerated into giddy laughter.
Buffy opened her
eyes, laughter bubbling from her throat past her gasping breaths as her lungs
battled for oxygen. The blue ocean she’d jumped into was right above her,
looking down, pouring adoration and love down on her like a warm waterfall. It
engulfed her, covered her with a blanket of promises, spoken and unspoken, that
she knew, simply knew, would be kept.
“Not really the
reaction I was goin’ for …” Spike complained despondently as Buffy continued to
giggle uncontrollably. She was unable to stop the happiness and newfound freedom
from overflowing from her heart and billowing in joyous waves from her throat –
not that she was really trying that hard.
“How about this
then?” she asked, her voice breaking with giddy giggles on each word. “I love
you, Spike. I love you … I love you … I love you,” she repeated, alternatively
laughing and kissing his face between each heartfelt declaration. “God, I love
Miracle Worker by
Now this one reaching out to all the lovers
Who might be thinking of breaking up...huh,
Or maybe even making up, check it
I missed a part of you, I can't get back
Don't be a silly nilly,I'm always here for ya,
Through the thick and thin, not just because we argue
See, I want it to be true, but I can't do that
Why not, what's stopping you?
Don't be preposterous.
I've gotta lot of love, not just a lot of lust
If I only weren't a fool, I'd be loved back
Well that's your own opinion
And you're entitled to it.
I'll be lost in oblivion, if we don't go through it.
There's nothing wrong with you I can't fix!
I come a runnin' with my little bag o' tricks
In an emergency I'm very well prepared.
My scalpel, mask, and gloves; don't ever get too scared
Ooohooo, you're a miracle worker
Ooohooo, you're a surgeon of love (you have a medical condition)
Ooohooo, can't wait to fix me up.
And I promise I'll be back again, if you work your miracles on me
Your melody was fresh,
It touched my soul
Invigorating and refreshing, and
interesting, and it feels right
My heart was drowning in stress,
But you brought out the best in me
Love has a tendency, so I've been told, and so it seems like.
My lovin’ laser will regenerate your heart
No need for anesthetics, I’ll go check your charts
I will reshape you, recast you from the mold.
A brand new beautiful woman will blossom from the old.
Oohooo, you're a Miracle Worker. [Yes
Oohooo, you're the surgeon of love. [I have a medical condition]
Oohooo, can't wait to fix me up.
And I'll promise I'll be back again,
If you work your miracles on me.....
Oohooo, you're a Miracle Worker.
Oohooo, you're the surgeon of love. [I have a medical condition]
Oohooo, can't wait to fix me up.
And I'll promise I'll be back again.
If you work your miracles on me....
Work your miracles on me.
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