Desperate Measures


Lynn
Sequel to Hell On Wheels





*There's nothing left to try There's no place left to hide* Spike stood in the yard, staring up at the lighted window. He could see the Slayer's shadow as she moved around in her room and shook his head as a determined look crossed his face. Well, mate, he told himself, it's now or never. He grabbed the nearest branches of the tree and hauled himself up until he was facing her bedroom. The radio was playing softly and Buffy was humming as she put her clothes away. She was dressed for bed in a rose-colored silk chemise that just skimmed her thighs and as she bent over in front of the dresser, Spike caught a glimpse of bare skin. His mouth went dry at the sight of her and he was tempted to turn around and leave before she saw him. At that moment, the Slayer froze as if she sensed his presence, then quickly whirled around. A startled look came over her face as she crossed the room to throw open the window. "Spike! What are you doing here?" She looked perplexed, but not angry, so he relaxed a bit and grinned. "Hello, Slayer." Spike let his gaze drift downward as he thoroughly looked her over. "Just wanted to see what was so interesting up here." "Great," she sighed. "First Angel, now you. What is this, the neighborhood peep show?" She flushed at the thought of someone besides Angel watching her disrobe. Leave it to Spike to snoop around... Realization dawned as she looked at him. "I knew it!" she cried out triumphantly. "I knew you could walk. You didn't fool me for a minute. Do the others know?" Spike shook his head and smiled ruefully. "You're the only one who knows my secret, pet. I'm trusting you to keep it." Buffy laughed in disbelief. "You're trusting me? I thought we were mortal enemies... What changed?" Spike's expression grew serious for a moment. "I did. I changed." After an awkward pause, he continued. "So, Slayer, you going to be polite and invite me in, then?" Buffy just raised her eyebrows and stared back at him. He smirked. "Right, that was a stupid question, but you can't blame me for trying. I did take a big risk in coming here, after all." "Why did you? Come here, I mean. And what if Angel sees you?" Spike stared into her eyes; he couldn't quite tell what color they were. Blue, green, a little of both? With her standing there half-naked, he was having trouble focusing on his mission at the moment. He cleared his throat and tried to remember why he was there. "Angel is busy right now. I have a little while before I have to worry about him. Actually, he's the reason I'm here. I know what's going on with you two, and I suspect you'd like him out of your life. I bloody well know I want him out of mine." Spike looked away for a moment before making his pitch. He took a deep, unneeded breath, then let it out in a rush as he turned back to face her. "So, luv, I was thinking maybe we could help each other out. Team up, as it were." Buffy looked at him in shock. "Let me get this straight. You want to help me get rid of Angel? What's in it for you?" She couldn't believe he was even here or that she was actually listening to him. This whole thing with Angel was clouding her judgement, big time. "What's in it for me? Well, let's see... Angel's fuckin' wacked and I can't stand having him around another bloody second. You've seen the bodies. He's completely 'round the bend. He's become a liability, you know? All this talk about destroying the world. Please! I need to be free of the bullshit. Free to do what I want without him hanging over my shoulder." There, he figured, that should spell it out nice and clear for the twit. "And Drusilla isn't wacked? What would she say if she knew you were here? Aren't you a little scared?" Buffy taunted as she stared back at him insolently. Want to play rough, do you? Spike thought. Well, we'll see about that. He decided it was time to burst the Slayer's bubble where her precious Angel was concerned. "Dru's fucking Angel right now as we speak. I bloody well don't care what she would say." Buffy gasped and looked up at him, the hurt evident in her eyes. He smirked back at her and answered without thinking. "What? Did you think he was pining away for you? Angel doesn't care where he sticks it. He probably screws his food after they're dead." The Slayer exploded in rage, catching him off guard. "GET OUT! I HATE YOU! YOU BASTARD!" Buffy screamed at him, looking for a stake. She began throwing pillows, books, whatever was handy. "Slayer - wait! I'm so-" Spike threw his arms over his head and lost his balance. He tumbled out of the tree, just managing to miss the pointy end of a branch on his way down. A hairbrush came flying out of the window and hit him in the head. He berated himself - Stupid fucking idiot! - pounding his fists on the ground. Spike looked up and saw the Slayer with tears streaming down her angry, red face and was surprised to feel a pang of remorse for his thoughtlessness. He called up to her softly, so the neighbors wouldn't hear. "I'm sorry, Slayer, but you had to realize that he isn't Angel anymore. Not the Angel you knew. You can't possibly still want him." "You shut up! Just - just go away and leave me alone! I don't want to hear your sickening lies! If I catch you here again, you're dust!" She slammed the window shut and closed the curtains. "Oh, I'll be back," Spike murmured. "When you're ready to listen, I'll be here, baby. Count on it." He turned and walked away, trying not to feel annoyed with himself for having blown the whole deal. Buffy turned from the window, sobbing uncontrollably. Angel - and Drusilla! It couldn't be true, could it? She laughed bitterly. Who am I kidding? she thought. Of course it's true! Spike's words echoed in her head. "You can't possibly still want him." But I do...God help me. Spike's right...he's not Angel anymore. He's an animal, a monster, a - "Oh, God! What have I been doing? How could I still want him? What's wrong with me?" She threw herself on the bed and curled into a fetal position, trying to shut out Spike's hurtful words, her sobs alternating with the litany - "Giles, help me, please, Giles -" *************

*You were my lesson I had to learn I was your fortress you had to burn* Spike paced in front of the mausoleum, chain- smoking and muttering to himself. It had been a week since his ill-fated visit to the Slayer and the situation at the mansion was getting worse. Angel and Drusilla were concocting some insanity involving a demon of the upper hierarchy. The demon could, in all likelihood, suck the world into Hell - thereby ending his immortal existence. He wasn't about to give up everything he'd worked for these past two hundred years. Until Angelus had come back he'd been having a grand old time - causing trouble, trying to do in the Slayer. Now all that was about to go straight into the toilet. "Come on, Slayer," he muttered. "You've had a week to cry about Angel. It's time to get your shapely ass back on the job." He heard a sound behind him and sniffed the air, smiling as the Slayer's scent filled his nostrils. Spike could feel himself harden and he ran his tongue over his elongating fangs in anticipation of her arrival. She'd always had that affect on him, no matter how hard he tried to control his reaction. He sighed. Just make the deal, you stupid fuck. "Spike." He turned and looked at her, a golden vision in the moonlight. She was wearing her usual skimpy attire - black camisole...no bra? And a miniskirt. A short jacket - opened, naturally - completed the ensemble. Spike let out a soft groan. Did the girl own anything that covered her? How was he supposed to think while looking at that? He shook his head and plastered an impudent grin on his face. "Slayer! Back on duty I see. I missed you, ya know. Quite boring, the last week, and I hate being bored...remember?" Buffy's lips twitched and she couldn't suppress a small smile as she answered, "I remember that your boredom usually lands you in hot water. You really must learn how to mellow out. Maybe you should take up meditation." "Nope. Can't sit still for that long...never could. Why do you think I'm out of the chair already?" "Have you ever considered Ritalin?" Buffy asked, enjoying the familiar banter. It made her feel in control, more like herself again. The past week had been horrendous. She hadn't been able to confide in Giles at all. She'd tried to tell him about her dreams and her strange behaviour, but each time she opened her mouth, she just froze. It was *Giles*, for God's sake. She couldn't discuss anything sexual with him. It was mortifying enough that he knew she was no longer a virgin. She loved Giles, she really did, but she couldn't bear to have him think that she was perverted in some way. And how else could she explain her desire for Angelus? In the end she was alone, as usual. She had cried until her eyes couldn't produce any more tears and then she had forced herself to face the cold, hard truth. Angel was a monster. He would kill her if she let him get close enough; it was as simple as that. Now, she figured it was time to see what Spike had in mind. He was a demon, but a straightforward demon. He was always upfront about trying to kill her, always so predictable. Until now. Spike was staring at her with those intense eyes. What the hell color were they, anyway? Blue, gray, green? They were usually the standard demon-y yellow during their confrontations - not the most attractive color around. They were kind of nice like this. Nice? she thought. Where the hell did that come from? No doubt about it, she had finally cracked under the pressure. "Okay, Spike...talk. What's going on with Angel and Drusilla and what did you have in mind?" She looked determined, back in fighting trim. The Slayer he knew and loved... Loved? Loved to hate was more like it. He hesitated for a moment to head off the disturbing turn his thoughts had taken. "It's like this," he finally answered. "Angel had his minions dig up some demon that had been buried in rock for centuries. Acathla. He's a higher up, with a unique power. He can create a kind of a vortex that will, quite literally, suck the world into Hell." Buffy looked at him in shock. "Angel and Dru are completely tickled about their little plan to destroy the world. They think Hell sounds just peachy." Buffy tried to digest this new information. "And you don't?" she asked. "Aren't you a demon, too?" Spike barked out a laugh. He thought for a moment, as if considering his answer and began pacing again. "Hell, yes, I'm a demon. I don't make excuses for that. I won't deny that I like the rush you get when you feed. There's nothing like holding the power of life and death in your hands, luv - you know that. And I don't ever have to feel guilty about it." He looked at her defiantly. "That does not, however, mean that I am a savage. For two hundred years I've enjoyed what the world has to offer and I'm supposed to give that up now? I mean, unlike Angel, I have all of my marbles and I like my so-called life and yes, before you start laughing, I know that's the name of a television show - they run the bloody thing almost continually on MTV." Buffy bit her lip to keep from interrupting him. He glared at her and continued. "Anyway, who knows what Hell is like? Down there I'd be just another peon - a nobody. And if it's boring, I wouldn't be able to stand it." Buffy did understand in a way. She, too, knew the rush she got from dusting vamps and defeating demons. And yes, she did get antsy when there was no action. Was it so different? She did need to do something about Angel, and fast. She didn't think she had the strength to do it on her own. "What's the plan?" she sighed. "You do have a plan, don't you?" Spike ducked his head and looked up at her through lowered lashes. Buffy was startled to realize that he had a boyish charm when he was like this. Okay, Summers, she admonished herself, Angel has totally screwed with your mind. You've lost it, really. She forced herself to remember that he was a vampire, and one of her biggest enemies, to boot. Spike kept his voice low and seductive, trapping her with his gaze. "I was thinking that first we need to throw Angel and Dru off balance. I've been keeping her out of my head so far, but sooner or later she's going to realize that something's up." He took a step closer, his eyes burning bright as he advanced. Buffy reached into her pocket and grasped her stake, feeling reassured by its presence. She fought the impulse to take a step back. "Throw them off balance how?" Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. She could feel the cold wall of the mausoleum behind her. Great, she was trapped anyway. Spike stopped just in front of her, too close for comfort, but not touching. "Angel is still obsessed with you, no matter how many times he shags Dru," he told her. "He's very territorial, like a dog with a bone." Buffy snorted. "Oh, that's flattering - thank you *so* much." Spike snarled at her impatiently. "Let me finish! How did Angel ever get to homeplate if you never shut up?" Buffy opened her mouth to protest, but realized she'd only be proving his point. She settled for rolling her eyes and motioned for him to continue. Spike put his hand on the wall next to her and leaned closer, breathing in her scent. His body tightened the way it always did in her presence, a familiar ache settling in his groin. "What do you think would happen if Angel smelled another man on you? He already watches that obnoxious boy you hang with like a hawk, what if someone else were thrown into the mix? Or, better yet, what if Angel and Drusilla smelled you on me? Then we'd get them both with one shot." Buffy stared at him as if he had grown two heads. "And just how do you propose to get my scent *on* you? I hope you plan on borrowing my perfume, 'cause that's as close as you're going to get." What kind of drugs was he on? She was starting to get worried now. Fighting she could handle, but not this. "Just hear me out, luv. If Angel thinks you're over him, he'll be so rabid that he'll lose sight of what he's planning. He can't stand to think that he isn't the center of everyone's universe. It will distract him enough to give us the advantage. Especially if the man you're involved with is me. It might be enough to short circuit Dru, as well." He made his statement calmly, knowing that if he showed any eagerness at all, she'd stake him where he stood. "Just what exactly do you mean by involved? One creature of the night boyfriend was enough for this lifetime, thank you. I don't think my system could stand another." Spike snorted and rolled his eyes, that famous impatience rearing its ugly head. "Grow up, Slayer! You know what I mean by involved and there's only one type of scent that Angel will respond to. The scent of your arousal and the fact that I made it happen." Buffy's eyes widened. "Not too full of yourself, are you? What makes you think that you could *ever* arouse in me the desire to do anything except stake you? A desire that's growing, by the way, with every sentence you utter." No, no way. Spike? Yeah, right. Maybe if she were bound and gagged, and even then she'd still try her damndest to get free. After Angel, she couldn't see herself with anyone else. No one could make her feel the things that he made her feel - not Xander, not Spike, not anyone. Ever. Yeah, you talk a good game, Summers, the evil voice inside her head whispered. But are you willing to put it to the test? Spike watched the conflicting emotions flit across her face and forced himself to remain silent. He could see her interest and he knew that she wasn't ready to admit it to herself yet. Buffy weighed her options. Spike was as different from Angel as night was to day... That was a good thing, right? And his human face wasn't really hard on the eyes. He had a sense of humor, didn't brood too much, liked a good time. So he had trouble sitting still, so what? Just a vampire with ADHD. She could handle it, couldn't she? Spike decided to speak up again, before she had the chance to think too much. He had to remind himself that she was practically a virgin. He measured each word carefully, knowing that he almost had her. "I've had two hundred years of experience where women are concerned, pet. I think I'm capable of making you feel *something* resembling desire. We don't even have to fu- uh, go all the way. Not if you don't want to, that is." Of course, he was counting on her wanting to. He'd get her there, or die trying. "After Angel wigs out, what then? What if he kills you, where does that leave me?" Buffy decided to concentrate on the second part of the plan. She couldn't deal with the ick factor of stage one, not yet. "Angel won't kill me, luv. I'm stronger than he thinks. And if he's 'wigging out' as you put it, he won't be thinking straight. You catch him off guard and I cover your back. It's as simple as that. He won't even see us coming." It did make a weird sort of sense. The two of them together should make for an unbeatable offense. There was just one glitch. "What about Drusilla?" she asked him. "She's not going to sit back and watch us take out Angel." Spike's gaze hardened for a second. When he spoke, his voice was cold, emotionless. "I'll take care of Dru. You won't have to worry about her. Just stake Angel and be done with it." "When do you want to do this thing? We have to make sure there aren't any other vamps around, I can't fight Angel and all of them at the same time." She wanted to stall for time, still unsure of letting Spike put his hands on her. It was going to require a lot of trust on her part. Spike didn't have a soul - he was still a remorseless killer. And he was all she had. "I'll send the minions on a wild goose chase looking for some little trinket that Dru wants. They're all scared shitless of her. We should do this in the next couple of days, though, before they have a chance to do anything with Acathla." Spike took a step back then, giving her room to breathe. Buffy remembered her dreams and for a moment she could feel the chains tightening around her. No, she couldn't live like this any longer. Angel had to go. It was the only way. She sighed. "All right, I'll do it. Tomorrow night, if you can get rid of everyone. Let's get it done and over with." Buffy pulled herself up and looked at him with resolve. Once again, Spike found himself admiring her spunk. "Let's meet here tomorrow after sundown," he told her. "Don't worry if I'm a little late. I'll have to sneak out." "Fine. And Spike, don't even think about doublecrossing me. You won't like the consequences." She pushed past him and stalked off, amazed at herself for going through with this. Spike! Good God, what did she just agree to? Maybe she was just as insane as Drusilla. Spike stared after her, admiring the sway of her hips and her barely covered ass. He was looking forward to tomorrow night. One thing was for certain, it wouldn't be boring. ************

*Freedom comes when you learn to let go* Buffy had tossed and turned all night, agonizing over her decision. She'd hoped that daylight would bring some sort of relief, but all it did was make her dread the coming sunset. Talking to Giles was out of the question - he'd flip if she went to him for help now. She didn't think she could bear to see his disapproval and disgust at her actions. And if he found out about her deal with Spike, he would go after the vampire himself. Funny, she really didn't want Spike dead anymore. If he was gone she would miss him. He kept her on her toes, and yes, he was attractive - she could admit that now. She could enjoy the sparks they had, with none of the angst that marked her relationship with Angel. But still, it was going to be hard to submit to him touching her. She hoped she was doing the right thing. She packed quickly, making sure her arsenal was extensive. She didn't want to run out of weapons at a crucial moment. That done, Buffy turned her attention to her wardrobe, wondering what to wear to a combination seduction/slaying. She decided to try for sexy and functional. She could fight in any short skirt and skimpy top, she just had to pick sensible shoes. A spaghetti strap crop top, comfortable mini, low-heeled boots and she was ready. She'd also wear her cross; Spike would just have to deal. Well, she thought, here goes nothin'. Buffy slung her bag over her shoulder and headed for the window. She took one last look around the room, wondering if she would be returning. Anything could happen during her confrontation with Angelus. Anything at all. Noticing that the sun was almost down, she climbed out the window and headed for the cemetery, trying not to question her sanity. *********** *Creation comes when you learn to say no Walk away* "Spike?" Spike turned his chair around and looked at Drusilla. He made his mind go blank, as he had learned to do years ago in order to keep her out of his head. "Yes, poodle, what is it? Did you sleep well?" Drusilla floated toward him, twirling, a dreamy smile on her face. "Oh yes, pet. I dreamt of Prague again. The people were so wonderful there. In my dream they were calling me to come back home." Drusilla slid into his lap and began stroking him like a cat. "Can we go, Spike? Pretty please?" She ran her hands down his chest, stopping at his belt. Spike held his breath. *Now* she wanted to put the moves on him? After all this time? "I'll be a good princess, you'll see. I remember what my little Spike likes." She trailed kisses down the side of his face and grazed his neck with her fangs. Spike swallowed hard, the muscle in his jaw tightening as he willed his body not to respond. He brought his hands up and caught hers before they reached into his pants. "Sorry, pet. I'm afraid that little Spike isn't himself today - the feeling down there still comes and goes. Maybe we could try later?" Please, please, please buy it, Spike pleaded silently. Drusilla frowned, then smiled as she stood up, patting his head. "It's all right, luv. I have to go see Miss Edith about her party. Maybe my Angel will want to play. I got some new toys yesterday." Spike suppressed a shudder as he imagined what sort of "toys" she had acquired. He managed to look at her affectionately and even smile. "You run along, then. I'll just read for a while and maybe go out for some air. Perhaps I'll pull a Ted Bundy - you know, poor cripple in need of some help. I need to practice hunting, anyway." She patted him again and drifted off, humming a waltz and dancing as she went. Spike watched her until she vanished from his sight, then turned and wheeled himself toward the back door, slipping out before Angel came downstairs. **************

*There's no greater power than the power of goodbye* The cemetery was close to the mansion and it took only a few minutes for Spike to reach his destination. He took his time strolling through the plots, even though the urge to run was incredibly strong. His catlike grace often gave a false impression of calm, when in actuality he felt like bouncing off the walls. Over the years, he had trained himself to suppress these compulsions, but the past few months in the wheelchair had almost done him in. He'd had to amuse himself with subtle jabs at Angel and subtlety was not his strong suit. Not by a long shot. He came to the clearing in front of the mausoleum, stopping dead in his tracks. The Slayer was there, sitting on a slab of marble, a pensive look on her face. She didn't see him, so he just watched her for a moment, enjoying the view. She was leaning back on her hands, full breasts thrusting upward against the thin material of her shirt. He let his gaze drift down toward her bare stomach and equally bare thighs. Bloody hell, was she trying to kill him? He slowly looked back up at her face and found her staring over at him. He felt that familiar tightening in his gut as their eyes met, and his cock immediately hardened. Spike tried to tell himself that he was only doing this to get rid of Angel, but the truth was that he had wanted her ever since he'd first laid eyes on her in the Bronze. Buffy watched him walk slowly toward her, reminding her of a panther stalking its prey. He was wearing his usual red shirt and black jeans, but without the t-shirt. Somehow, he looked different, as if she were seeing him for the first time. She felt a flickering in her stomach - nerves, excitement? It couldn't be attraction, of that she was...well, almost positive. He wasn't beautiful, like Angel, but he had something - an edgy, sexy quality that was only emphasized by the way he sauntered over to her. She didn't want to think about how she was feeling; if she thought too much, she would flake for sure. Had he always looked this good or had she been too blinded by Angel to notice? She was so confused, and considering the circumstances, that couldn't be a good thing. Spike stopped in front of the Slayer, suddenly unsure of how to begin. He couldn't stop looking at her, and all thoughts of Drusilla had fled long ago. The effect that she had on him was surprising; he hadn't even touched the girl yet and already he was hard enough to cut glass. The Slayer just stared back at him with those liquid eyes, her lips parting slightly and quirking up into a self-conscious half-smile. She leaned forward and pushed herself to her feet. Grabbing her bag, she removed a stake and placed it on the slab next to her. Just in case. Spike cocked an eyebrow, then nodded as if he understood. Neither one had spoken and the silence stretched on as they regarded each other. There was a hum in the air, an electricity that they could no longer deny. Buffy unhooked her cross, setting it down beside her. She tentatively reached out her hand and touched Spike's chest, feeling the hard flesh beneath the silky shirt. She looked up at his angular face, into eyes so full of blue fire that she could almost feel the flames scorching her skin. Their heat made her realize that she wanted this...she wanted him. Spike. Angel had always been so cautious with her, treating her like a fragile piece of china. Right now, she was grateful for the differences between the two vampires. She didn't need any reminders of Angel's love, his tenderness. She needed hot, hard, mind-numbing sex. She wanted force, wanted to feel Spike pound into her until all thoughts of Angel disappeared. Spike must have sensed it somehow, he grabbed her arms roughly and pulled her closer, crushing her mouth with his. He kissed her hard, bruising her lips, his tongue battling ferociously with hers. Buffy moaned against his mouth and slid her hands up into his hair, pressing herself against him. As his chest came in contact with her softness, he slipped the strap of her top off of her shoulder, brushing her nipple with his thumb. Her body arched against him as he trailed kisses down her neck, his tongue flicking over the sensitive veins in her throat. Buffy stiffened for a moment, then relaxed as she realized that he wasn't going to bite. Spike worked his way down to her breasts, tonguing her through her shirt before moving it up out of way. He latched on to her sensitive nipples, laving them with his tongue, grazing them with his teeth, sucking each one into his mouth as if starved for the taste of her. Buffy cried out at the intense feeling that traveled all the way to her womb, gripping his hair tightly as she pushed herself against his face. His mouth felt so good on her skin - cool, like Angel's, but bolder, more demanding. He didn't hesitate or worry that she would object. Not that she could, or even would at this point. And how did that happen? She never thought she'd feel this way again, and certainly not with Spike, of all people. He wasn't even people, he was a vampire, her deadliest enemy, next to Angelus. She shouldn't want him like this, shouldn't be getting so aroused by him, by what he was doing, but God, it just felt so incredible... Spike could feel her responding and reveled in it. He never thought that that she would welcome him this easily, without the slightest hesitation. He slid his hands around her waist, caressing her bare skin. His mouth followed his hands, gliding across her stomach, his tongue dipping into her navel. He nipped at her skin, careful not to use his fangs. Spike lifted the Slayer and set her back onto the marble so that she was sitting up, facing him. His cool hands roved over her legs, moving up her warm thighs as his mouth claimed hers again. Buffy ran her tongue across his lips and bit down gently, arching her hips to bring him closer. She was shocked at her own actions, but didn't care. She felt out of control and liked it. After months of having to suppress her feelings, she wanted nothing more than to let go, forget about repercussions. Just...feel. Spike's hands were under her skirt, reaching for her panties. He snaked one finger inside, thrusting into her all the way, enjoying the whimper that came from her throat. She was already dripping, soaking his hand, and the scent of her arousal was driving him out of his mind. He tore the almost nonexistent scrap of cloth from her body and lowered his head, desperate to see if she tasted as good as she smelled. Spike licked his way up her thighs before sliding his tongue into her folds, letting her nectar seep into his mouth. At the first touch of his tongue, Buffy threw her head back and gave a sharp cry. She hadn't expected - Angel had never - She couldn't think anymore, she was beyond anything except feeling. Spike's tongue circled her clitoris as her hands gripped his head and her hips thrust forward. He lapped at her eagerly, drowning in the scent and taste of her secretions. Angel definitely wouldn't have a problem figuring out what had happened. It gave Spike a great deal of pleasure to imagine the look on Angel's face when he realized exactly *who* had been had by his supposedly helpless childe. Almost smiling at the thought, he turned his attention back to the equally pleasurable task at hand. Or mouth, rather. The Slayer was keening and pulling at his hair, her legs spreading wider, inviting him to delve deeper with his probing tongue. His jeans were impossibly tight, constricting his painfully throbbing cock, but he didn't want to stop before making her come. Buffy's limbs stiffened, her entire body growing taut with her impending release. Spike slid his finger inside her again, angling it upward, and was rewarded with a another surge of wetness flowing into his mouth. She tasted so good, even better than he'd imagined. As soon as he felt the convulsive shudders of her climax, Spike sank his fangs into the tender flesh of her thigh, almost coming in his pants as her blood flowed into his mouth. The Slayer shrieked in ecstasy as she came, the orgasm ripping through her like a freight train. Buffy felt his fangs slide into her just as she started coming and the combination of pain and pleasure was beyond anything she had ever experienced before. It sent a direct current to her sex, making her clench around his fingers as she spasmed uncontrollably. She felt like a bundle of raw nerve endings as Spike sucked gently for a few minutes, then licked the wound clean before rubbing his face against her damp curls. Chest heaving, she leaned back on her hands, feeling dazed by what had Spike had done to her, dazed...and - God help her - hungry for more. She barely had time to catch her breath before Spike attacked her mouth again. She could taste her own juices on his lips, sending another jolt of desire through her. In a frenzy, she tore at his shirt, shredding it with her slayer strength. His chest was hard beneath her hands, the lean muscles sculpted like fine white marble. Her mouth trailed down to lick at his neck while her hands pulled at his belt, ripping it from the loops. She quickly opened his jeans and thrust her hand inside, finding him rock hard and dripping with his own secretions. Spike groaned as her small hand encircled him. Buffy lightly stroked his cock, marveling at the size and feel of him. She hadn't really done much exploring with Angel that one night - there hadn't been time. Now she slowed down just enough to enjoy the way it felt to slide her hand over Spike's silky skin. She pulled his foreskin back and rubbed the weeping tip, earning a loud groan for her efforts. Smiling, Buffy shoved his jeans down, freeing him all the way. With a snarl, Spike grabbed her hips and pulled her forward, impaling her with one thrust. His eyes crossed as he sank into her heated depths. Christ, she was so bloody hot, he thought he'd burst into flames. She screamed his name as his pelvis slammed into her clit. He pounded into her with a furious rhythm as she wrapped both legs around his back, meeting him stroke for stroke, her strength more than a match for his. Buffy clung desperately to his sinewy arms, feeling his muscles straining under her hands. A second orgasm was building, the tension making her almost incoherent with need. "Harder, faster, fuck me, Spike, fuck me - !" The words tumbled from her lips as if someone else were saying them. They couldn't have come from her, not those words... Her vocal cords were betraying her the same way her body was. At her urging, Spike increased his speed, his fingers digging painfully into her ass as he lifted her off the marble. The sweat poured from them both as their bodies slammed together, their moans echoing in the deserted graveyard. Spike had never felt anything like this, she was so hot, so tight, so wet. He was almost mindless with the need for release. The Slayer screamed his name again as she came for the second time that night, her muscles clamping down on his cock, sending him over the edge. With a growl, he came in hard spasms, shaking and gasping for the air that he didn't really need. His cock surged inside her again and again, sending his cold semen deep into her womb... And time screeched to a halt as Spike collapsed against her, his forehead pressing into her shoulder. They both trembled as the aftershocks of their spent passion ran through them. Their skin was stuck together with sweat, their breathing ragged from exertion. Spike turned and licked the Slayer's salty neck, sending another shudder through her. He raised his head, blue eyes meeting hazel in dazed confusion. What the fuck had just happened? He had figured on getting the Slayer worked up enough to bang her, but he never in his wildest dreams imagined that it would be like this. Drusilla had never made him come that hard. The combination of heat and cold had been so incredibly intense, making him lose all control. How was he going to get himself together to fight Angel and Dru now? Buffy was trying to deal with her own inner turmoil. She couldn't believe she had let a demon - okay let's just say it - fuck her into oblivion. And he had bitten her. All right, not fatally, but still... She had never let Angel feed from her and she had totally loved him. She tried to control her breathing, to get herself together. Her muscles were screaming and still quaking from the fierceness of their coupling, and yet, she didn't really want him to disengage from her. Buffy met his eyes squarely, refusing to be embarrassed by her reaction to him. As she let herself get lost in his smoky gaze, she realized that she'd been wrong before. He *was* beautiful, especially with his features softened in the afterglow of sex. Light where Angel was dark, lean and strong where Angel was large and hulking. So very beautiful, and so very dangerous. What was she going to do? Could they ever go back after this? Spike gently pulled away from her and began pulling up his pants. He couldn't help looking at her, sitting there all disheveled. She was leaning back on her hands, panting, shirt up over her breasts and skirt around her hips. Her lips were swollen and bruised, her eyes large and dark. A surge of pride went through him at the realization that he had done this to her. To the Slayer. He felt like shouting it from the rooftops. He'd made her come twice, screaming his name for the whole world to hear. Angel would know immediately what had happened. Spike's only regret was that the bastard hadn't been there to witness it in person. To watch the woman he had loved acting like a bitch in heat with another man. Then he would truly know how Spike had felt these past months. He bent down and picked up the tattered remnants of his shirt, then used it to gently wipe the moisture from her thighs. Buffy pulled her shirt back down and he helped her down off the marble. She smoothed her skirt down over her hips and looked up at him in consternation. His behavior was completely out of character. She had expected macho posturing, maybe a snide remark or two - not this tenderness as he touched her. He looked as surprised as she was at what had happened between them. Spike cleared his throat and attempted to speak. "Slayer, I-" Buffy put her hand up to his lips, shaking her head. "Don't. It happened, there's nothing else to say. We have other stuff to deal with right now. We'll talk about this later...maybe." She ran her fingers through her hair and turned to grab her cross and stake. She was starting to feel like the Slayer again - in control, if only for the moment. She turned back to him, all business, as if they hadn't just fucked each other's brains out. "Okay, we head back to the mansion. I'll hide until you provoke Angel, then we both hit him with all we've got. Just make sure you keep an eye on Drusilla. She's too unpredictable." Spike nodded in agreement, amazed at her ability to focus. His mind was still reeling with the implications of having sex with the Slayer. After what had just happened, he wasn't sure what he wanted the outcome of this fight to be. He didn't have a soul. How could he have responded to a human this way? What was wrong with him? She was the bloody Slayer, this couldn't ever happen again... could it? He mimicked her tone as he replied, "All right, luv. Let's do this thing. Just don't let your feelings for Angel get in the way of your killing him." "Don't worry, I won't," Buffy told him, her eyes suddenly hard and cold. Spike nodded again in approval and took her hand. They turned and headed toward the mansion, shirtless and pantiless, stopping to retrieve his wheelchair on the way. ************

Continued