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“Explain it to me again.” Buffy said, jaw tight. “Like I’m stupid.”
“Buffy,” Andrew started, trying to sound calm and in control. Buffy glared at him, and he swallowed heavily. “He doesn’t-.”
“Explain.” Buffy bit out, channeling her pain into anger so she didn’t throttle him. Or worse, cry.
“He was - he was, um, a ghost for a while.” Andrew repeated the beginning of the story. “And then, then he wasn’t.”
“And you didn’t tell me the second you knew why?” She snarled, and Andrew trembled slightly. They were in his hotel room in LA, and she’d had to hear about it from Willow, who had booked her the first flight out of Scotland. “How long has he been back, Andrew?”
“He popped out of the amulet in Angel’s office less than three weeks after Sunnydale.” He admitted, looking at the floor, wincing when she picked up the remote and threw it across the room, the plastic shattering against the wall. “B-but he was just a ghost!”
“But he’s not a ghost anymore. Correct?” Buffy clarified. Andrew nodded. “Where is he now?”
“Buffy.” Andrew looked up in alarm. “If he found out I told you-.”
“And what do you think I’m going to do if you don’t tell me, Andrew? Because I can be very persuasive when I want to be.”
Buffy took a taxi to Angel’s office building, silently fuming in the backseat. But, she held onto the anger, because it was currently the only thing keeping her up. If she was angry, she could barge in and scream at him, demanding to know why she wasn’t the first person informed when Spike came back to life - or, unlife, maybe. Whatever. But, so long as she held onto the anger, she wouldn’t break down, wouldn’t beg to know if he realized she wasn’t worth the trouble.
Her hand scrubbed angrily at her cheeks as a few tears escaped, and she sniffled.
It had been nearly half a year since they’d blown up Sunnydale, and the council was currently under Giles’ command. Between him and all the Watcher’s, and Willow and the coven’s she was working with, they were quickly tracking down all the newly unleashed Slayer’s. It was exhausting, but by throwing herself into it, Buffy had been able to ignore all of her own pain and feelings.
Worrying about all the new Slayer’s meant she didn’t have to dwell on blowing up the one home that had ever meant anything to her, the place that held her mothers body, all the lives they had lost. She didn’t have to dwell on the irreparable damages to the friendships she had once thought unbreakable. And, most importantly, it left no room for her to grieve Spike, or weep at his denial of her love.
But, apparently her words to a dying man had really only been words to a man about to take a quick dip in and out of reality. And she had more words to have with him.
Paying the cab driver, Buffy looked up at the looking building that was Wolfram and Hart, nearly vibrating with determination. She nearly lost her mind in the elevator, arms crossed, foot tapping, storming out as soon as the doors opened.
“Oh my god!” Harmony - Harmony? - jumped up from the receptionist desk, looking like Malibu Barbie, eyes going wide. “Y- you can’t-.”
“Goodbye, Harmony.” Buffy shoved her out of the way, strides purposeful as she headed for Angel’s office. The windows were tinted, and his head snapped up when the door opened. His eyes went wide, and he stood quickly.
“Buffy!” He tried to sound casually excited and failed miserably as he rounded his desk. “What are you-?”
Buffy clocked him square in the jaw, sending him stumbling back into the corner of her desk. She grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket, pulling him back up to face her.
“Where is he?” She demanded.
“Who?” Angel feigned naivety and she hit him again, drawing blood this time. He groaned in pain.
“Try again.”
“Buffy-.”
“If the next words out of your mouth aren’t an address, I’ll stop pulling my punches.” Buffy hissed out, and Angel shoved her back.
“He’s not here.” Angel wiped the imaginary dust off his jacket. “And what’s it even matter? You watched him die.”
“And I killed you once, if you can’t remember, and I was stupidly happy when you came back.” She curled her hands into fists by her hips. “So, either you tell me where he is, or I start going stake happy around the office.”
“God, what did he do to you?” Angel frowned at her, looking genuinely sad.
“He loved me.” Buffy crossed her arms. “Address?”
Spike sat on the table, feet hanging in the air like he was a child. He watched them swing.
“I’m just saying,” Fred continued on, though she had to know he wasn’t paying attention. “I get that I’m no Cordelia, but he could at least acknowledge that I’m not a man, y’know?”
“Mhm.” He agreed, wondering how much longer until she got the hint and left.
She was doing her best to keep his spirits up, but Fred could only do so much. She chattered about her own human problems, but since he’d become corporeal again, he hadn’t had much interest. He’d gone on a few missions to take down some demons, but even that seemed to have lost its magic. Angel had given him one of the suites to keep an eye on him, and Spike knew it had more to do with making sure he didn’t run off in the direction of a particular blonde Slayer, but he knew better.
Buffy had done him a kindness, more than one, really, in the last several hours on the Hellmouth, and he knew better than to seek her out. She had given him what he’d wanted most as he sacrificed himself to save the world, and he would live out the rest of his miserable existence with those beautiful memories. And, he knew that seeking her out would only ruin the memories, so he did his best to keep his head down and profile low as he waited to hear any scrap of information about her that he could.
Fuck, he could practically smell her. It made him ache with want, and Fred was still going on about her own silly problems, puttering around his small kitchen and ignoring his lack of attention. Spike closed his eyes.
The smell in his memory was strong, so strong he could practically taste her, and he frowned. He shouldn’t be able to smell her so well from memory alone?
He opened his eyes just in time for the door to swing open, and Fred screamed, dropping to the floor in shock. Spike stared slack jawed at the blonde in his doorway, thinking perhaps he had died, or maybe had been drugged and this was a very vivid hallucination
“You asshole!” The beautiful, magical creature before him spat out, eyes blazing in fury. Spike stood slowly, walking over to her, perplexed. He raised a hand, skimming it just above the skin of her face, feeling the heat radiating from her, and let out a breathless laugh.
“M’I dreaming?” He asked softly, feeling her pulse in the air, the taste of her breath filling his every sense.
“Buffy?” Fred squeaked, and both blondes looked to where she was still on the floor.
Fred could see her?
Fuck.
Fuck!
Spike jumped back, knocking the table over in his haste to get away, though she was blocking the only exit as he scrambled back. He held his breath, closing his eyes, trying to will her away.
Fred said something, Buffy responded, they exchanged a few more words, and then they went quiet. Spike dug his fingers into the wall, feeling the thrum of her heartbeat as she neared him.
“Spike?” Buffy’s voice came out a hoarse whisper, and Spike held himself steady. Warm fingers trailed along his cheek, and he stifled a shudder. “Spike, please, look at me.”
Spike forced himself to look at her, ready for her to tell him off, how she wished he’d stayed dead, how he had ruined the sacrifice he had made.
Buffy stared at him with wide eyes, green glittering with unshed tears as she took in his face. Her eyes jumped around his face, following the path of her fingers.
“You came back.” Buffy broke the silence after what felt like a lifetime. Her eyes met his for a moment, before moving back to his features, ignoring his gaze. “You came back.”
Spike nodded, muscles tensing when her knuckles trailed over his lips, a barely there touch.
“Are you okay?” She asked, still not meeting his gaze. Spike didn’t answer, just stared at her, trying to memorize each inch of her, trying to categorize what looked the same and what had changed. “Spike?”
Finally, she met his eyes, and he felt his knees buckle.
“What are you doing here?”
“I…” Buffy opened her mouth, but no words came out as Spike held her gaze, begging her to say it again, to say it was real. “I just had to see for myself. To make sure.”
“Oh.” Spike deflated, disappointed but not surprised..
“Why didn’t you call?” She asked, a small frown on her lips a line forming between her brows, her fingers still tracing along his skin.
Spike swallowed.
What was he supposed to say? That he’d been too bloody scared, that he didn’t want her to come just to stomp on his heart as she had done so many times before? That he’d spent his entire time as a ghost begging anyone to let her know he was back, until Angel had convinced him that letting her go on living without him was the best option.
“Spike?” She said his name so softly he nearly wept. But, he didn’t. He merely stared at her, half waiting to wake up. Her hand pulled away, fingers curling into a loose fist as she drew it against her chest. “Right. Sorry.”
Buffy shook her head, the citrusy scent of her shampoo washing over him as she took a step back, leaving a gaping crater of space between them, taking her warmth with her. He wanted to say something, but couldn’t find the words.
“You’re okay?” She asked, pausing. “You’re happy here?”
“Uh…” Spike stared, and she continued to nod her head.
“Right, of course. She seems nice, I’m glad you’re… yeah.” Buffy continued to nod, shoulders curling forward slightly in a way he recognized that meant she was feeling self conscious. She turned, still muttering softly, either to herself or him, her heart racing as she moved towards the door. He could smell the salt of her tears. Her hand wrapped around the knob, and he finally made his feet move.
The door slammed back shut loudly, even though she’d barely gotten it an inch open. Buffy closed her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek.
Spike was nearly pressed against her back, his pale hand pressed against the wooden door, holding it shut. She didn’t move, didn’t speak, barely managed to breathe.
She could smell the smoke and leather, the spice she had once thought was a cologne but later came to realize was just Spike. Buffy pressed her forehead to the door, wishing she hadn’t come to LA, that she hadn’t found out, that she could still live in her bubble of ignorance.
“Who seems nice?” Spike finally asked, voice low, and she had to take a slow breath so she didn’t sob.
“The, um - that girl? Sorry, I scared her off, I can-.”
“Fred?” He clarified, and Buffy nodded against the door. “She’s probably off to try and find Wes. Slayer, what are you doing here?”
“I told you-.”
“In my flat.” Spike added, and Buffy sighed. The sooner she got it over with, the sooner she could go back to Scotland and wallow in her own self pity. She turned to face him, finding him a lot closer than she’d anticipated, forcing her to look up and meet his eyes. His brow was furrowed, and her fingers itched to reach up and smooth out the lines.
“How long have you been back?” She asked, and he looked to the side, but didn’t move, keeping the door firmly shut. “We thought - I thought you were dead. Andrew let it slip to Willow the other day.”
“Bastard.” Spike growled, and she wanted to weep.
“Don’t blame him, Dawn coerced it out of Willow.” Buffy shook her head. “He said you didn’t want me to know you were back.”
Spike looked at her again, and she pressed her lips together, swallowing tightly as she tried not to cry. “Right. Probably should have taken the hint.”
“Slayer-.”
“If you don’t mind, I think I should probably be off? Gotta go find a hole to curl up and die in.” She tried to joke, but he didn’t laugh.
The hand not pressed to the door lifted up, hesitating briefly, before coming to cup her cheek. Her eyes fluttered shut at the cool touch, sighing softly.
“Spike-.”
“Did you mean it?” His voice came out as a whisper, and her eyes snapped open. She kept her expression was guarded, but she knew that he knew her well enough to see the fear hidden away in the back. She took a shuddering breath, studying his face, looking for an answer.
“What does it matter?” She finally asked, voice resigned.
“You know why it matters.” Spike told her firmly, and she cast her eyes to the side, a small, soft, almost sad smile crossed her lips. “Sl- Buffy.”
At the sound of her given name, her eyes snapped up to his face. Her brow pinched together slightly, and her nails dragged across the door.
“If it mattered, you would have reached out.” Buffy spoke softly. “If it mattered, you wouldn’t have hidden from me, stayed with Angel, of all people.”
“That a no, then?” He asked, shoulders dropping slightly, eyes shutting in resignation.
“God, you’re stupid.” Buffy muttered, giving him no time to think before her hands were on his jaw, pushing up to her toes to press her mouth against his. She would give herself this, and then she would leave him to be wherever he wanted to be, even if it wasn’t with her.
Much to her surprise, however, Spike moaned, pressing her against the door with his body, kissing her back enthusiastically. She gasped, and his tongue made its way into her mouth, and she dug her nails into the pale skin of his face. Tears stung at her closed eyes, winding one arm around the back of his neck, needing to pull him closer.
The hand on her own face dropped, gripping the side of her hip where her ass met her thigh.
“Spike.” She moaned against his mouth, arching against him, whining high in her throat, desperate for him. “Spike, please.”
“Say it.” He begged against her mouth, not letting her break the kiss.
“I love you.” Buffy told him easily, and he made a noise akin to a sob, dropping his other hand to the other side of her ass so he could lift her. Buffy moaned, tucking her legs beneath his duster, crossing her ankles at his ass to pull him closer. They both gasped as his erection met her core. “Do you-?”
“I love you.” Spike repeated the words back to her, and she tangled her hands into his hair, the gel cast crunching beneath her touch as she rolled her hips down. Their teeth clicked together, and she pushed her tongue against his own, needing to taste him, to feel him, to be surrounded and filled and loved by him. “Slayer, love.”
Buffy groaned against him, using her free hand to slip between their bodies, struggling as they were pressed so closely, but managing to locate the buckle of his belt. She tore the leather, uncaring as she popped the button clean off the denim fabric.
“Are you-?”
“Need you.” She gasped out, shaking her head as her hand slipped into his jeans, meeting cool skin and coarse hair, no underwear blocking her fingers as she wrapped them around him. He moaned, sounding wrecked.
“Buffy, Buffy.” He dragged his mouth from hers, dragging wet kisses across her face and jaw as she jerked his cock a few times, feeling him twitch and swell in her grasp.
“Couch.” She told him, unable to form more syllables, but able to see it just a few feet away. Spike nodded, biting at her jaw with dull human teeth as he stumbled back, keeping her close in his arms until he got to his destination. He didn’t drop her like she expected, instead falling to the couch with her, crushing her beneath the weight of his body, and she squeezed his cock, eliciting a sob from him, his teeth biting her throat hard enough to leave a mark.
“Slayer, gotta - oh fuck, yeah.” He gasped out as she used the hand still in his hair to drag him back to her mouth. “Need to - ung - need you.”
“You have me.” Buffy murmured into their kiss, and Spike growled, the ripping sound of fabric sounding in the room as he tore her pants and underwear clean in half. She moaned as the cool air hit her heated skin, wiggling as the fabric slid down to where it was still attached at her thighs. “Yeah.”
“Slayer.” He moaned as she pulled him closer, guiding him by the cock to her entrance. His mouth went slack as he brushed against her heat. “Are you-?”
Buffy rolled her eyes pushing against him until he fell back onto the floor. She moved with him, impaling herself on his cock as they hit the ground. Spike’s mouth dropped open, body going tight, eyes squeezed shut as Buffy sat astride him. Buffy shifted in his lap, moaning at the way he filled her so perfectly, her torn pants bunching at her knees.
“Slayer.” He panted, hands squeezing her ass, and Buffy opened her eyes, not having realized she’d even shut them. She looked down, regarding him through hooded eyes as she rocked her hips. His neck arched, fingers digging into his skin, and Buffy reached down to pull her shirt off. “Fuck, Slayer.”
“Yeah.” Buffy nodded, pushing up slightly on her knees, rolling her hips as she dropped down. “Fuck the Slayer.”
Spike sat up, thrusting up into her, and Buffy moaned, his cold hands sliding from her ass up her back, popping open the clasp of her bra. It slid down her arms, straps catching on her elbows, cups crushed between their bodies as Spike got his mouth on her breasts. Buffy moaned, struggling to get out of the garment so she could start tugging at his clothes, needing to feel his skin.
Spike didn’t make it easy, growling deep in his chest, hands exploring her skin as she continued to ride him, thrusting up into her as she pulled at his clothes. He shoved the jacket off, and Buffy tore the black shirt away, uncaring as she ripped the fabric. Once he was bare, she pulled him back to her mouth, breasts tingling, damp in the cool air.
“Buffy.” Spike moaned against her lips, hands everywhere, helping her move, keeping her close, touching and feeling and holding. Buffy kissed him with everything in her, rocking against him, feeling too much and not enough all at once.
“I love you.” She told him, feeling like she might burst at the seams. He moaned again, hips jerking up against her, filling her so perfectly. “I love you, I love you.”
“I love you.” He panted against her mouth like he needed air, and Buffy smiled, her first genuine smile in what felt like years, grinding against him slowly.
“Say it again.” She begged, unable to recall the last time he’d said it, even though it hadn’t been more than a few minutes.
“I love you, Slayer.” He growled out, sending tingles up her spine. Buffy bit at his lips, sliding up and down his cock, slamming her hips against his as he tried to meet her thrust for thrust.
“Need you to come.” She told him, begged him, pleaded with him against his lips.
“But-.”
“Please, Spike, need you to - fuck, yes, oh fuck.” She sobbed as he hit that magical bundle of nerves deep inside her. “Need you to come, need you to fill me up. Please, fuck, need your love.”
Spike groaned at that, deep in his chest, hips jerking up into her once, twice before he was filling her up. Buffy gasped at the sensation she had thought she would never feel again, mouth going slack against his own, slumping against him. Spike growled, rolling them over, knocking over the coffee table as her back hit the carpet. Her toes curled at the sensation of his softening cock moving in her before he slipped out.
“Spike-.” She gasped, reaching for him, but he was already between her legs, throwing her thighs over her shoulders and diving in.
She nearly screamed as his tongue slipped into her, cool and skillful, pushing in deep as his fingers dug bruises into her thighs.
“Fuck, fuck, Spike - fuck, oh god.” Buffy moaned as his teeth grazed over her clit, her head slamming back into the floor hard enough that she would be worried had she been a normal human. She arched into him, pressing herself against his face, toes digging into his back as she came so hard her vision went spotty. She couldn’t breathe, gasping as his tongue turned gentle, cleaning her up and edging her higher as she tried to regain feeling in her own body. “Spike.”
He looked up at the whine in her voice, and Buffy nearly came again when she looked down to find yellow eyes gazing up at her. She tried to reach for him, wanting him closer, but her hands refused to cooperate, merely twitching. He seems to understand, though, surging up to kiss her. Buffy moaned at the taste in his mouth, sharp teeth careful to be gentle.
“Tell me.” He panted.
“Love you.” Buffy slurred, feeling half drunk as her knees settled around his hips. He was hard again, and she tried to arch against him, wanting him back inside of her. Spike laughed gently, reaching down to angle himself so he could slip back in, moaning with her as her muscles shuddered around him, pulling him in. “Spike.”
“Fuck.” He moaned, kissing her mouth, her cheeks, her brow, anywhere his lips could reach. Buffy let her hands drag down his back, nails digging gently into the skin as he rocked slowly against her, savouring it now.
“Spike, want you…” she tried, brain foggy as she tried to focus.
“You have me.” He continued to kiss and lick and rock and caress. “Forever, you have me.”
“Mm.” Buffy shook her head, digging her nails into the muscles just below his shoulder blades. “Want…”
“Anything.” He promised her, taking his time, savouring the sex now that the rush was over. Buffy grunted, unable to connect the wires between her brain and mouth. She used one hand to grab his hair, pulling him up until his face was tucked against her throat. Spike froze, back going tense, hips stilling. “Buffy-.”
“Need you.” Buffy arched her hips, working her muscles around his cock to urge him to move again. He gasped, hips jerking hard, breath cool on the base of her throat.
“I-.”
“Please.” She begged, needing this. She needed him surrounding and filling and being filled and loving and being loved and taking the piece of her she had always been afraid to let him have.
“Buffy.” His voice was gruff as he rutted against her, and she arched her neck, undulating her hips down to meet him thrust for thrust.
“Love me.” She instructed, holding him tightly to her neck, sighing when his tongue lapped at her. Her eyes watered, pulling in short gasps of air in anticipation.
His fangs were gentle as they pierced her skin, endorphins hitting her as he took his first pull of her blood, her eyes rolling back as her orgasm started. Spike growled, rutting roughly against her, letting her blood flow past his lips with each beat of her heart, dragging out the pleasure as Buffy began to cry. Her mind swam, feeling like she was floating, flying, mind going blank and remembering how at peace she had felt in heaven as Spike came, filling her cunt as she filled his mouth.
Buffy didn’t realize she had blacked out until she came back down, his cock no longer in her, fangs retracted as he kissed and licked at the mark on her throat. Buffy moaned in contentment, letting her head loll to the side, half asleep, half feeling stronger than she ever had.
“Mm.” She hummed, feeling high, never wanting to float back to earth, wanting to stay right where she was, in this perfect dreamland with her vampire and no worries.
“Pet?” Spike asks softly, and Buffy made a noise in acknowledgment, too happy to think beyond that. His huff of laughter against her skin made her glow, and she felt a lazy smile spread across her lips. “Gotta get up-.”
“No.” Buffy grumbled, frowning, muscles feeling heavy at the thought. Spike laughed again.
“I got you, love.” He pushed up, keeping her in her arms, standing a bit shakily. Buffy wrapped herself around him, unwilling to let even the tiniest bit of space break them apart. He kissed her shoulder, letting her slump into him as he walked through the apartment. Her ass met a cold counter, and she hissed. “Gotta let go, love.”
“Don’wanna.” Buffy told him, nose pressed to his throat, feeling his Adams apple bob as he swallowed. She tried to loop her feet around his waist, but they refused to cooperate.
“Gotta start the shower, kitten. Just be a tick.” He kissed her cheek, and Buffy frowned, but let him detangle their bodies.
She watched as he stepped back, moving to start the shower, heating the water before tugging off the torn remains of his shirt, dragging his jeans down and kicking off his boots. His lips were tinted red from her blood, and he dropped to his knees to pull off her torn jeans and underwear. Buffy giggled to herself, shaking her head at their tattered clothing. Spike looked up at her fondly as he rolled her socks off her feet. He kissed her ankle, and she reached for him, making grabby hands in the air.
Spike pushed up, taking her into his arms, kissing her gently as he walked them into the shower, sliding the glass door shut behind them, pressing her against the tiled wall and slipping back into her easily, sighing against her mouth at the feeling.
Spike stared at Buffy, laying in his bed, hair dried and messy on his pillow. She was on her back, exposed and glorious, blankets lost somewhere on the floor, her fingers playing with the short hair at the base of his skull. Her eyes were shut, and he was on his side, staring at her, at the angry mark at the base of her throat that kept drawing him back in.
“Stop thinking so loudly.” Buffy told him, opening her eyes and rolling to mirror his potion so they were face to face. Spike reached out for her waist, drawing her closer and she smiled, nearly making his dead heart start back up. “What?”
“Still waiting to wake up.” He told her honestly, half convinced it was a very realistic spell. Buffy smiled, leaning in to gently kiss him, making his spent cock twitch.
“Stop being stupid.” She murmured before kissing him again. He was just starting to get into it when she pulled back, staying close enough that he could taste her breath. He opened his eyes to find her staring.
“What’s up?” He asked, trailing his fingers up and down her waist.
“Are you…?” Buffy frowned slightly, and he leaned forward to kiss it away, but her hand on his chest stopped him. He met her eyes again. “I want you to come to Scotland with me.”
“You - you what?” Spike blinked at her. He hadn’t even considered anything beyond fucking her until he was too tired to keep going, and then fucking her a few more times for good measure. Her frown deepened.
“You don’t have to.” She rushed out, pulling back, rolling away and sitting up. Her arms covered her chest, and Spike moved to follow behind her.
“I-.”
“Because I understand if you want to stay here, if this is where you want to be. But, if you want to, I want you to be with me.” She rushed out, looking across the room. Spike moved to follow her, and she started sliding towards the edge of the bed, so he moved a bit faster until he could wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her back and biting down on the mark he’d left on her with human teeth. She sighed, relaxing into him, the scent of her arousal waking his cock up, and he relaxed his jaw, pressing a kiss to the mark.
“Gonna let me talk?” He asked, kissing the side of her neck, feeling the way her heart was fluttering in her chest. She hesitated before nodding.
Spike manhandled her until she was on her back, and he could climb atop her. She spread her legs, ready and waiting, but he held his body above her, watching her face. She looked nervous, so he kissed her, cock bumping against her wet and hot pussy, nearly distracting him.
“Slayer, I’d follow you to the end of the bloody earth. Matter of fact, think I’ve already done that.”
“But-.”
“You’re daft if you think otherwise.” He cut her off, and she pouted.
“Says the guy who came back to life how many months ago and kept it to himself?” She challenged, but he could see the fear in her eyes, hear the way her voice shook.
“Never said I wasn’t the daft one.” He let out a breath of a laugh, shifting his weight so he could use a hand to brush her hair back, looking at the bite mark. “You let me bite you.”
“I was there.” She huffed, turning her head to the side. Spike smiled.
“Your Watcher tell you-?”
“You’re not the first vamp to bite me, stupid.” She muttered, and his grin widened.
“First one to bite you while fucking you, though, yeah?” He kissed the mark, feeling her breath stutter. “First one you asked, first one who didn’t hurt you while I did it.”
“Well, Dracula-.”
“Oh, fuck you.” He laughed.
“Wish you would.” Buffy looked back at him, and he kissed her, pushing back into her, her muscles welcoming home easily. She sighed in the back of her throat as he settled in.
“Why’d you ask me?” He pressed, just holding himself in place, enjoying her warmth. Buffy worked her muscles, but he held firm.
“I…” she made a face before she was rolling them over so she was on top. Spike caught her hips, knowing she needed to be on top if she was going to be vulnerable, settling into the pillows. “After everything, I had dreams about it.”
“About me biting you?” He asked, brow furrowed. Buffy looked at him like he was stupid, settling her hand on his stomach.
“No, about pigs learning to fly. Yes, you biting me, stupid.” She huffed.
“Yeah?” He grinned.
“Yes.” She looked to the side, lips pursing. “And then I’d wake up, and, well… you wouldn’t be there.”
“Slayer-.”
“So I started looking into it.” She continued. “About the bites. Riley had been into it, and I wanted to know about it. No one noticed, what with everything going on, so when I had downtime, I’d read about it.”
“But you thought I was dead?”
“Yeah, but I thought.” She frowned, looking down at her hands. Spike sat up, and she met his eyes.
“You thought…?”
“I thought, what if that last night, what if I’d let you bite me? Given you some Slayer blood? Maybe you’d still be with me.”
“Oh, pet.” He kissed her, feeling him tremble around his cock.
“And then, then you weren’t dead, and I just.” She scrunched her boss slightly. “I needed to be a part of you, needed you to know, to understand. And, maybe if I was a part of you, you wouldn’t be able to leave me.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper at the end, and he kissed her again, deeper this time. She hummed softly, relaxing into him. She rocked gently against him, matching the pace of their lazy kiss.
Spike didn’t break the kiss, instead holding her close as her own arms wrapped around him. It couldn’t be classified as fucking, the languid way they were rocking together, clutching desperately to each other. Buffy broke the kiss, gasping and breathing into his ear, and he rolled them over, catching her lips again and settling into her. She moaned happily, holding him to her body, clenching rhythmically as he rocked gently into her.
When she caught his head, guiding him to her throat again, he moaned, biting her without hesitation, moaning at the taste of her. She came with a soft gasp, and he took no blood, just holding her in place, letting a few drops trickle into his mouth before releasing her.
“I’ll go wherever you are.” He told her, kissing the wound. She hummed, already half asleep. Spike snuggled into her embrace, too tired to care if he came or not.
They’d beaten their previous five hour record, doubling it, and he didn’t care to keep going. Tucking his face against her skin, Spike let himself be lulled to sleep by the beat of her heart, wondering how he could make himself worthy of this gorgeous woman’s love.