Buffy was having a seriously pissy day. Everything that could go wrong had already done so, and now she was out on patrol looking for some vampires to pummel into unconsciousness before she staked them. Her friends tactically avoided her come lunchtime after she spilled her drink on the report she'd taken time to do a good job on, resulting in them learning she knew some very interesting words that made even Oz blush.
She had five pop quizzes in a seven class day, none of which she was prepared for because of the hectic past few days of slaying, and she undoubtably failed them all. Her purse was knocked to the floor by Harmony or one of her sheep, spilling its contents for all the world to see and when she went to clean it up, the dark hose she was wearing got a long run up the back. Both Wesley and Giles beat a hasty retreat when she'd finally come in for training after school and then proceeded to destroy not only the practice dummy, but the weapon she was using, as well.
Her face lit up in what could only be described as a very evil smile when her skin began to tingle, signally the approach of the undead. Her sneaker clad feet, because the strap on her favorite pair of shoes broke, made no noise as she cut through the headstones in Restfield cemetery. She'd forgone wearing a jacket, considering the one she'd been wearing earlier that day got stepped on by a baseball player in muddy cleats, and her black tank top and black running pants matched her mood.
The vampire was a fledgling, newly risen and still covered in dirt from clawing his way out of the ground. She hopped up on the back of a tombstone, her position reminiscent of a cat poised to strike. Her hazel eyes glittered in the moonlight, a full one seeing as how Oz-wolf had escaped and slashed her mom's blouse with his claws before they could tranquilize him. She stared at him, her hair blowing loose around her face because the clip holding it up had vanished as she started out on patrol, making her look all the more wild.
He let out a snarl and her evil grin increased a notch, the gleam in her eyes pure death. The vampire faltered at this, then his gaze shifted to behind her and he let out a relieved, unneeded sigh. Cocky, he pointed to the area with a smirk on his face before he turned and dashed off into the night.
Buffy didn't need him to tell her there was another vampire coming up behind her. She had sensed him the moment he came into range, his distinguished vampiric vibe hitting her like a wave. Her eyes closed, then opened again, almost glinting silver as her body prepared to fight. She waited until he was almost upon her, then slowly she turned her head until her gaze met his and her lips curled up in a way that would remind anyone of Angelus. "I thought I told you to leave," she said in a neutral tone.
"Yeah, well, you know how good I am at following instructions, pet," Spike replied with a shrug of his leather clad shoulders. He had returned to Sunnydale - again - because he felt as though he had missed something or forgotten something when he'd left the Hellmouth. And since he had nothing better to do because Drusilla had been long gone by the time he'd returned to Brazil, he had decided to come back and figure out what that something was.
"You do know that I'm going to have to hurt you now," Buffy told him in a matter of fact voice.
Spike arched his brow. "Oh really? And what makes you think that you can, little girl?"
"Take off your coat, and I'll show you," she replied. "I think it would look nice on me, don't you? Maybe I'll keep it after you're dust."
"You're a bit cocky tonight, luv," he said, taking off his favorite duster and throwing it over a headstone. That action left him clad in his usual black t-shirt and jeans. "I think I'll have to knock you down a rung or two."
"Fair warning, Spike," Buffy stated, leaning forward on her haunches. Her glittering eyes shone with violence as they met his. "I've had a really bad day."
With that, the fight began.
The Slayer leapt at him, but instead of trying to knock him down, she latched onto his shoulders and flipped over his head, landing directly behind him. She kicked out at the back of his thigh, then ducked his punch as he swung around. She blocked the next one and the next, grabbing his wrists and rolling onto her back to toss him with her feet.
Spike went with the throw, using his momentum to move fluidly back to a fighting position. It was just in time, too, because Buffy came at him with a powerful double side kick, catching him right in the chest. She landed lightly on her feet as he staggered back, then she turned into a spinning back kick, smacking her foot across his jaw, making his head reel.
Buffy's next few punches and kicks were blocked as her sparring partner switched into serious mode. Then the fight really took off. Her foot shot up to his face again and he caught it, twisting it. She turned with the movement, using her other leg to catch him in surprise. She landed easily and shot up with a palm strike, but he ducked out of the path. He spun and caught her across her jaw with his elbow, continuing the turn to smash his fist in the same place.
She grabbed his arm on the next swing, her knee coming up to hit him where it counts. Spike brought his own knee up, preventing the move and grabbed her throat with his other hand. Buffy latched on with both hands to his wrist, using his grip on her to swing both legs up and box his ears with the sides of her feet. He let go and she fell to the ground, avoiding his stomping on her chest with a backwards roll.
The cemetery was silent save for the sounds of fists and shoes connecting with bodies. The moonlight shown eerily down between the trees to light up the macabre dance. The wind was holding its icy breath as it watched the scene unfolding, not wanting to interrupt the events that made the night crackle with electricity.
Buffy's next punch hit its mark, making blood trickle from the side of Spike's mouth. Her own face was cut and bleeding, as was his, as they continued to fight. She spun and back fisted him, but her third swing was blocked as he slammed her in the gut with his own punch. She bent over, blocking the upraised knee with both forearms. Her foot shot over the top of her head in a move a gymnast would envy, hitting him and he stepped back.
She rolled forward and up to her feet, moving with kick he delivered. She stomped on his foot in a dirty move and got her knee up between his legs with no problem this time. He grunted with the blow, but retaliated with one of his own by striking her sides right under the ribs with both palms, making her beat a hasty trip back a few steps with the pain. He ducked under her next kick, then blocked a second one before she lashed out with a back fist to his nose.
He quickly reached out and grabbed her hair, flinging her at a tall statue. She grabbed it around the middle and threw her legs back like a bucking horse, hitting him. She spun into a low sweep, knocking his feet from under him and she pounced, her arm back to deliver a stunning blow to his throat. He caught her fist and twisted, latching onto the back of her hair and head butted her. Then, he rolled until she was flat on her back on the ground, her body pinned under his. They were both panting heavily, bleeding and bruised as she grasped his wrist in her free hand, yanking sharply so he let go of her hair. Now, each of them had the other's arm immobilized, Spike still holding her fist from her earlier strike.
They were at a stalemate, matched strength in their grips, neither of them able to move because he was directly on top of her, his legs wrapped around hers to prevent her from throwing him off. Their blazing eyes met, but neither held anger or fear. Both were filled with exhilaration and excitement from the fight between two equals.
Then, the fight changed.
Spike growled deep in his chest as their position started to affect him. Her eyes flashed with arousal and he responded by smashing her lips with his, forcing her into a new type of fight. Their tongues met and battled, each giving it everything they could, wanting to show who was superior. The let go of the other's arm simultaneously, Buffy's hands immediately moving around him to yank on his t-shirt. He broke the away only long enough to yank it over his head, then descended upon her again, passion flaring as she scratched her nails down his bare back.
He rolled suddenly so she was on top, grabbing the tank top and bra, and pulling it off of her, barely breaking away from plundering her mouth. She rubbed her freed breasts against his chest, her nipples hard and begging to be touched. His hands moved around her, bruising her flesh with his fingertips as they continued to battle with their mouths.
Buffy rubbed her pelvis against him and he groaned, breaking the kiss to pull her further up his body. He latched onto one breast, nipping and suckling it, making her gasp with the intense pleasure coursing through her body. She unconsciously rubbed herself against his stomach, seeking friction to soothe the ache between her thighs. He moved to her other breast, repeating his actions until she was making little mewls of pleasure.
Spike rolled them again, biting and licking his way down her body as he grabbed the waistline of her pants. She toed off her shoes as he pulled them down and off of her, leaving her naked in the moonlight. His eyes burned her skin as he let them rove over her, then he was pushing apart her legs, nipping at her inner thighs as he settled between them.
She arched up off the ground when he brushed his fingers over her damp curls, wanting his touch. He did not disappoint as he separated her silken folds, exposing her throbbing clit to his view. Without warning, his tongue shot out and flicked it making her hiss, her hips raising towards his mouth in invitation and want. He lavished the entire area with long licks, thrusting his tongue into her hot pussy, tasting her juices. Then, he moved his attention back to her nubbin, sucking it as he pushed first one, then two fingers out of her, stretching her in preparation.
Buffy keened with pleasure as she was brought to orgasm, her hips bucking repeatedly against his mouth. She grabbed his hair, trying to pull his head away as her feet pushed down on his shoulders because it was too intense. But he dragged it out until she came a second time, violently, her whole body arching up off the ground.
Spike moved away only to shed the rest of his clothing, then he placed kisses along her bare skin as he went up her body. Their mouths met again, with Buffy tasting herself on his lips, as he positioned his hard, pulsating cock at her opening. He pushed in just the head, waiting for her to accept him with supreme control, a barely perceptible growl emanating from him.
She broke the kiss and looked at him, her eyes meeting fiery blue ones. She could see his passion and desire reflected back at her, hear the growl, and she knew she had lost the fight. Wrapping her legs around his lean waist, she arched her hips and the growl became more pronounced. He thrust into her, their pelvises connecting with a sharp slap and her eyes rolled back.
He felt her heat and wetness surrounding his shaft, burning him with intense pleasure. He started off slow, thrusting in and out of her hot core, his weight resting on his hands as he loomed over her. He bent his head and captured her mouth in a searing kiss as he sped up, Buffy rocking her hips up to meet him. Their tongues clashed as their bodies connected in that rhythm of the ages, the moonlight bathing them in a soft glow.
Buffy felt herself tightening around his hardness, her muscles quivering as yet another orgasm built. Unbelievable feelings coursed through her body as she ran her hands over his back and over his arms. She shook as she felt the strain in his biceps, the strong muscles holding him up and it inflamed her even more.
Spike shifted so he was able to bring one hand between them, feeling himself growing closer to the edge. She was so hot and tight, it sent chills down his spine to counteract her heat. He found her nubbin and fingered it, pulling her with him as he leapt over the divide into oblivion. His mouth tore from hers as he felt the tightening in his sac and he raised his head to stare down at her.
Their eyes met and held as the first wave of their climaxes washed over them, both wanting to know that it was the other who brought them to this point. As the second wave hit, however, they both cried out uncontrollably as their eyes squeezed shut, their bodies shaking in orgasm. Spike thrust up into her as far as he could as he spilled his seed deep within her womb. Buffy's vaginal walls were squeezing him tightly over and over as her body shuddered, milking him.
He practically collapsed on top of her, his mouth near her neck as he panted in the aftermath. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close, their slick bodies sticking together as a slight breeze brushed over them. "This is what was missing," Spike murmured before placing a soft kiss over her still racing pulse.
"Missing?" Buffy asked, confused.
Spike pushed up on his forearms to look at her, noting her flushed face and the feeling it evoked in him. "Never mind, luv," he said, bending to press his lips to hers. When he broke it he gave her a small smile, then asked, "Are you still having a bad day?"
Buffy suddenly flipped them so she was straddling him, his cock still buried deep inside of her. "I think things are starting to look up," she answered with a mischievous grin, then moved her pelvis.
Spike groaned, his hands grabbing her hips. "That was bad, pet."
"Yeah, but it's gonna get a whole hell of a lot better," she replied, then bent to kiss him.
If all of Buffy's bad days ended this way, they wouldn't be so bad after all.