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Full of Grace	By : agalaxyinblueeyes Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Het - Male/Female > Buffy/Spike(William) > Buffy/Spike(William) Views: 4833 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
Disclaimer:
It's not mine. I
already told you that! Stop hounding me!
Previously:
Oooh, my, our
future lovers have just shared their first kiss! Of course, Buffy's wigged, and
has asked Spike to ignore that it ever happened. And of course, our horny hero
agrees... but he's most certainly not going to forget. Giles having
finally found the paper describing the Apocalyptic Rock, sent Buffy and Spike
out to scrounge up info. I'm sure you all know how it goes from there. Oh, and
side note: the girls are mad at Xander again.

Full of Grace

+part
4+

March
10, 1998 -- Tuesday

He
kissed me. That big, egotistical, maniacal, homicidal blowhard actually kissed
me. It was the most degrading moment of my life! He threw himself at me, knocked
me onto the grass (and stained my pretty blue jean skirt, too, the bastard!), we
fought, I pinned him, he distracted me enough so he could roll us over and pin me...
and then, he kissed me. It was disgusting.
So
why did I like it so much�?
I'm
not exactly cuckoo about the idea of gossiping about it, because... well,
because it was him. And because Dawn's probably going
to find this and read it, and tease me mercilessly so that I'll hafta kill her,
and that won't go over well with Mom. But... I guess I'll hafta take my chances.
He was a really good kisser. Better than Angel (not Angel, not Angel ) Angelus
was, in fact. If you can believe that. Hell, I can't
believe it!
The
way he was looking at me tonight... I mean, if you could have seen his eyes. He
knew exactly what he was doing. Even when I caught him, all he did was give me a
complete up-down read, and then he licked his lips
like I was the most delicious thing he'd ever seen! He was checking me out! It's
so weird to think that... HIM, of ALL PEOPLE, with the things that HE'S done,
and the stuff that HE'S FAMOUS FOR... HE was checking me
out.
Of
course, I can't blame him. Compared to who he used to
be with, he can look at me all he wants. Ooh, do I sound conceited�? I don't
mean to be. And, gah, why am I gushing over him anyway�?
Anyway,
enough about HIM. (Can't you just hear the theme music from Jaws
coming after that�?) Giles got that information about whatever this big Rock
Thing is. So did we. Xander got me in such a pissy mood that I actually hauled
Willy over the counter to get the info.
Oh,
and, speaking of Xander!! That butthead's lucky that Giles had me leave,
otherwise his ears would probably be stuck up his nose, his tongue would be
pulled through his throat, and his head would be up his butt. Not like it
already isn't. Like I don't feel bad enough about me and ~~Ang~~ --
(not Angel, not Angel)
doing the horizontal watusi, and him going all 'grr, argh, roar' with the kill,
maim, destroy thing... Grrr. Even Cordy was mad at him. Which was weird,
because... Cordy. Well, she's always mad at him for something, but this time,
she actually defended me. Wiggy.
Looks
like we might have an apocalypse sometime soon. I wonder if HE'S
upset about it. Probably not.
I
know these are really bad Buffy Thoughts, which is why I'm putting them in here,
so I don't have to keep them in my head and go insane... but I wonder if he'll
kiss me again. I'm not saying that I want him to...
but I might not pull back if he does.
Shhh...
don't tell.

Buffy

Buffy
sighed as she slammed the cover of her diary shut. This was pretty bad. Somehow,
some way, she'd managed to get the hots for an evil, bloodsucking fiend. And if
she was truthful, she'd technically had the hots for him since she'd first met
him. Spike had a rare, Roman-esque, Greek-Adonis type beauty that tended to...
melt women when they first saw it. Every aspect of him from what she'd seen,
even his unnaturally blonde hair, was fitting. His whole body just suited him.
Made him extra... yummy.

She
scoffed at herself. < Buffy, thou art damned to hell. >

She'd
begun to notice something quite disturbing about herself, something that Giles
seemed to have restrained trying to yell at her for since he found out about
Angel: she seemed to have a thing for the undead. Angel had been the first, and
yeah, she'd thought he was just some weird human guy on her trail until her
Slayer senses had gone haywire around him. But he'd been full of good
intentions, because he had a soul. And yeah, he drove her absolutely crazy,
pulling that stupid hot-and-cold, on-again-off-again, 'I love you, but I can't
be with you' bullshit on her time and time again, but she'd still loved him, had
still been proud that he slayed at her side.

Angel
had warmed her from head to foot the moment he entered the room, whether he was
all-business and sending a rare smile her way, or whether they were alone
together, whispering sweet nothings interchanged with gentle, heartwarming
kisses.

Spike,
on the other hand...

The
man was brutal. He had absolutely no sense of gentility and devotion <
and totally ignoring the fact that that's how he was with Drusilla before
Angelus took her away from him > and his caustic tongue was one
to rival even Cordelia's. Cordelia had no sense of tact; Spike had a sense of
wicked tactlessness. The difference there was that Cordelia wasn't aware of what
she said most of the time, be it hurtful, truthful, or helpful. Spike was fully
aware of what he said; he purposely primed it to be hurtful, and he wallowed in
the phrase 'The truth hurts.'

Yet
somehow, his scathing tongue and tear-inducing words seemed like a defense
mechanism, almost. Buffy hadn't failed to notice that he usually only said those
bitter, cutting phrases after she instigated it with something sore and
malicious. It was nothing but a bitter cycle: she started it, he finished it, he
started it, she... more than often finished it.

But
at the same time, while Angel's presence had warmed her like a blanket being
thrown over her shoulders in a violent winter wind, Spike's presence lit a fire
inside of her body, an inferno that had absolutely no intention of being put
out. Angel's presence had once calmed her; Spike's presence made her go all
loopy, wanting to lose any and all inhibitions, throwing caution to the wind.

He
angered her, and at the same time, made her want him. It was incomprehensible;
she just didn't understand why it only happened around Spike. He made her feel
powerful, hungry. He preferred to have her draw her power out instead of
fighting mechanically during a battle.

Vaguely,
she recalled his disappointed words on Halloween, the night she'd been turned
into a noblewoman for Angel, only to find out that he hadn't even liked
the women of his time. Spike hadn't been reluctant to bite her, but he had
been reluctant to have to end her life without a fight. He'd wanted a challenge
in her, and on Halloween, he'd been denied that challenge, because she'd been a
weak, pathetic little girl.

Spike
made her want to take pride in the fact that she was a Slayer, to use it to her
full ability, to actually indulge herself in her more primitive half when she
made a kill. Angel had preferred to let her live the life of a normal girl, to
have boyfriends and dates with coffee, to snuggle on the couch watching old
romantic movies from the '30s and '40s, and to think of her Calling as a
necessary job, and nothing else... Spike made her feel that not only could she
be that normal girl, but she could embrace her primal self as well, to truly
become the Slayer.

And
what more, he didn't bother to shield her from the dark and gloomy. Spike fed in
front of her, gave her the cold, hard facts, had killed quite a few humans right
in her view, and didn't bother to try and hide what he was. Angel, however, had
refused to let her see him feed, and she'd always had the vague sense of
annoyance that he only came out patrolling with her so that he could thin the
herd before she so much as got one vamp staked. And he had always
tried to hide what he was.

Spike
made her want to stand up and feel proud of her heritage, be strong, and violent
and skillful. He wanted an equal. Angel, apparently, didn't.

Why
hadn't Angel bothered to make her feel that way?

And,
god... she wasn't even going to go into the differences in their kissing. She
was scared she might short-circuit. One thing was for sure, though: as old as
Angel was compared to Spike, the younger vampire was definitely
the better kisser. All hot, and tingly and commanding and powerful, reaching
right into the center of her being and igniting that fire into the raging
inferno, setting her every muscle at ease and her every nerve ending at
attention...

Ohhhh...
her brain was officially fried. No more thinking for Buffy.

<
I'm supposed to be heartbroken over the loss of my ex and how to kill him,
Drusilla, and Spike, not debating
the merits of dating Spike as opposed to having dated Angel! >

She
whined softly before pulling back her covers, turning off her lamp, and letting
her head hit the pillow.

<
Stupid hormones. Always gotta make things harder. >

<
He's only doing this to rile you, mate. Ignore that stupid face of his, and the
stupid hair, and that stupid smirk, and don't look at Drusilla, the vile, rank
bitch. Don't let her into your head. >

"What
do you think, Dru?"

Spike
looked up. He'd made it back home in time to fling himself into the Metal Death
Trap known as the wheelchair, just as Angelus and Drusilla had come storming in
from the back, well-fed and riotus with an inquenchable thirst for sex.

Which
had been put on hold the minute they'd seen him. Hell, Spike had known he was
close to trouble the moment Drusilla had come waltzing into the garden, spinning
to a stop in front of him.

It
was inevitable, really. He was kicking himself for being so stupid.

He
had Slayer Smell all over him. All for the simple fact that, when he'd gotten
back, he'd forgotten to change his clothes.

Idiot.

So
now he was busy shielding his mind from Drusilla's particularly annoying
"insight." All things considered, it was actually pretty easy to do.
Dru's insanity sometimes rendered her into a helpless, child-like state. And in
the incredibly rare moments when she was lucid, she
could generally only decipher the thoughts and emotions that Spike directed at
her. Having been with the loon for over a century, he'd learned quite a few
tricks to confuse his one-time lover that his idiot of a grandsire was too
dimwitted to realize.

Which
brought him to the hard part: confusing Dru enough with his emotions for her to
convince the Great Arse that he wasn't hiding anything. After all, Angelus, as
Angel, had spent so much time with Buffy that her scent was currently lodged
into his senses. When he'd perceived the smell desperately clinging to the
threads of Spike's clothes, he'd immediately rounded on the younger vampire,
barking orders at Drusilla to determine any guilt; anything naughty that a
paraplegic vampire should not have had any business doing.

Fortunately
for Spike, as much bravado as his grandsire put on, Angelus really was as stupid
and gullible as he seemed. Spike had instantly been prepared for Dru's
brain-probing when they'd come back, and he'd quickly sent out emotional waves
of annoyance toward Angelus and hurt because of Dru. His irritated thoughts of
having worn these clothes the last time he'd been able to face the Slayer
bounced forward into Dru's mind the moment her consciousness locked with his.

However,
she'd been probing him for almost five minutes now, and Angelus was getting
testy. "Dru..." He wasn't really curious if Buffy had decided to pay
the mansion a visit after somehow discovering that they were staying there. What
he really wanted was an all access pass from Dru to beat the holy hell out of
Spike. From there, he entered the Happy Land of Chains and Torture, which was
why he started when Drusilla gave a sudden delighted giggle.

"My
Spike's an innocent one, he is... Poppet had no one to help pull on the prince's
new robes. He had to use the beggar's." She sniffed lightly, inhaling
vanilla perfume combined with the Slayer's earthy musk, then shook her head,
apparently pleased by what she found. "The wicked Slayer's smell has grown
for months... she's aged, Daddy, she has..."

Angelus
glanced at her blankly. "Er, yeah. So... I don't
get to kill him, then?"

Drusilla
smiled darkly. "Naughty Daddy... He wants to take away my toy and never
give it back. Poor me... he doesn't want me to play anymore. My white knight's
no longer of use. Maybe Daddy has a bigger game in mind?" Her long, dark
eyelashes swept up and down coquettishly, and in an instant, Angelus forgot who
Spike even was, let alone his desire to kill him, in favor of a more...
strenuous activity.

He
strode forward, a lascivious smirk crossing his face as he trailed a deceptively
gentle hand down the length of Drusilla's body. The smirk only widened when
Spike emitted a low growl behind him, and it took all his strength not to glance
back and gloat at the now-seething bleach blonde. "Oh, I've got a few games
I think you might like, baby." Reaching Drusilla's hand, he caught it in
his own, twisting sharply upward, causing Dru to gasp in pain and excitement.
"But I think they're better suited... away from prying eyes."

Drusilla
raised her head eagerly as Angelus stepped away from her, moving upstairs. When
Spike growled again, Dru's eyes strayed to him. Noticing that he had her
attention, Spike once again roused his capacity for emotions, giving her a look
of deepest longing, hurt, heartbreak and disgust, emitting a soft, pleading
whimper.

The
dark beauty simply shrugged to herself, following her sire back upstairs into
the mansion. Apparently, Spike's feelings were placed as they should be, and
were not of any consequence. No need to worry. He didn't matter.

Spike's
lips curled into a bitter smile as he slipped out of his jealous, jilted lover
persona, listening hatefully to Drusilla's footsteps alighting on the landing
above him. This most recent display of her indifference to her betrayal... was
the nail in her coffin, so to speak. Spike was more certain than ever that his
alliance with the Slayer was the smartest thing he had ever done.

The
Slayer... Spike smirked to himself. The fiery little thing had been completely
shaken by his kiss, which pleased him to no end. She'd refused to look anywhere
in his vicinity the entire time back to the high school, and she'd practically
run out the door when the Watcher had set the lot of them free for the night.

Spike
had heard Rupert's voice calling him back, but he'd pointedly ignored it,
stalking out the doors and jetting out of the high school, positive that Giles
only wanted to give him some not-very-threatening glares and gestures, and tell
him to keep his fangs to himself. He'd turned to the left and right, and had
caught the smallest glimpse of blonde hair swishing around. He had almost
decided to run after her when he'd realized how close it was to his sires' grand
return. So he'd hauled ass down to Crawford Street, just in time to greet the
two lunatics that he was unfortunate and reluctant to say were
"related" to him.

And
now, they were holed up in Angelus' room, roaring, and screaming, and growling
their heads off in a not-so-subtle attempt to piss him off. Spike snorted and
shook his head. God, if his mum could just see him now...

Eh.
If his mum could see him now, she'd probably sympathise with him and nothing
more. Anne had been a quiet, gentle, sweet-natured woman by the time she'd taken
ill, and Spike, when human, had been her entire world. She'd doted on him as if
he were a prince. If anything, she would have understood the love he'd had for
Drusilla, and probably would have found a way to discourage the hate he now
harbored for his sires. She might even have chided him for teasing and taunting
Buffy, and would probably have asserted the fact that Buffy was still only a
child, and new to the world, compared to him. She was, after all, only 17.

Oh,
crap. Ring up one sulk-fest -- he'd just started brooding again. Why the hell
had he randomly brought up the memories he had of his mother? What the hell did
she have to do with anything now? Honestly, he was a Master Vampire (although in
his current position, he might do well to keep his mouth shut), and if it wasn't
for the fact that he was hell-bent and dead-set on bringing about Angelus' ruin,
Drusilla's abject humiliation, and both of their destructions, he'd be in the
mental ward, kicking himself in the head and what-not.

He
let out a frustrated growl and rose up in one lithe motion from his chair.
Christ, he wanted to kill something. Violently. Either that, or have a nice,
long, hard fuck. Or, preferably, both. The good ol' fuck-an'-feed. Not like
Drusilla would mind, the bitch. The whore could kiss his ass, as far as he was
concerned. He had no doubts that she would do just that - literally - when
Angelus was finally brought down, and then Spike could have the utmost pleasure
in denouncing her and kicking her to the curb. Hell, if he wanted to, he'd even
let Buffy stake her. That'd take care of the adulterous cunt, once and for all
-- nothing stopping him from doing whatever (and whoever) he wanted.

Speaking
of doing... He kept bringing Buffy up while he was contemplating his revenge,
but even as he did, she was still dancing around in his head -- literally. He
could see her as he did that first night -- twisting and shaking, gyrating like
a maddening lust-kitten when really, she was just a teenage girl dancing.
Reluctant as he was to admit it, while he'd enjoyed the kiss, and the effect
that it'd had on her, the effect that it was having on
him was giving him something to fear. He'd really
enjoyed that kiss, could still taste it on his lips, even now -- she tasted like
vanilla, strawberries, honey and chocolate all at once -- and he was going mad
with want. He wanted more -- he craved more. His body
was straining in their confinements, desperate to chase after that infuriating,
blonde-haired bint, kiss her till she was breathless, then pound into her until
she screamed for more.

Fuck,
he was hard again.

But
he knew he couldn't chase after the girl. Not now, at least -- he had to give
her some time to stew, to think about their lip-wrestling, before he chased
after her and gave her the taste for more... before he gave her the taste of a
real man.

Damn.
Looks like he'd have to rely on Lefty tonight. Grumbling under his breath, he
plopped back into the chair and rolled away into the safety of the house's
study, locking the door. In no way did he feel like being Angelus' laughing
stock when the pompous ass strutted back down the stairs. Not tonight. Not
anymore.

"Buffy!
Wake up, it's time for school!"

Grunt.
Groan. Turning over now and praying to some form of God that this is just a
nightmare.

"Buffy!"

She
whined softly. "No..."

"BUFFY!"

The
graceful Slayer that she was had decided to sleep in as well. Teenage
Gonna-Be-Late-For-School Buffy let out a horrific shriek and tumbled off the end
of the bed, landing flat on her stomach. A high-pitched, delighted giggle
sounded from the other side, and Buffy looked up warily, thinking she'd find
Evil Incarnate preparing to torture her himself. Instead, she found her
12-year-old sister with a maniacal grin on her face, her arms folded across her
chest.

Eh,
close enough.

"Dawn?"
Buffy started sweetly, shifting as her honey-colored hair tumbled down in front
of her face.

Dawn
instantly went on alert, staring at her with wide, cautious eyes.
"What...?"

The
Slayer woke up at the sound of her counterpart's ferocity. "RUN."

Whatever
she'd seen flashing in Buffy's eyes, she didn't exactly know, but she wasted
absolutely no time in doing just as her sister had asked her. Dawn scampered out
the door.

Buffy
watched her sister from her new seat on the floor, then sighed, flopping
backwards. This was not the way to start the day.

A
half-hour, several shouts from Joyce that Buffy was going to be late again, a
few more arguments between Slayers and
Younger-Sisters-That-Can't-Shut-Up-For-Their-Own-Good, and a box of donuts
later, and Buffy was finally at school, heading directly for the library.
Luckily, the sugar-high from the three raspberry jelly-filled donuts she'd
devoured were starting to take effect. She bounced in through the double-swing
doors, clutching the box protectively in her arms. Xander was the only one at
the research table, and for some reason she didn't understand (or couldn't
remember), she found herself being overly cautious and aloof with him.

"Xander,"
she greeted quietly. "What's doing?"

Xander
shrugged, looking down for a moment, before responding. He seemed to be trying
his hardest not to make any suggestions that might earn him a beheading.
"Nothing major. You know, big apocalypse research, end-of-the-world thing,
geometry homework. The usual." His eyes lit up hopefully when he saw the
donut box in Buffy's hands. "Jellies?"

Buffy
nodded, smirking. Figures. "Don't eat 'em all. Giles'll kill you if you do.
Oh, speaking of... Giii-iiles!" she called, glad that her confrontation
with Xander had been interrupted by the need for work. She set the box down and
turned toward the office. Behind her, she heard the vague sounds of Xander
launching a full-frontal assault. "Giles! Anything new on the big World-Endage?"

Giles
barely, save for a slight scowl at her lack of serious-ness, glanced up at her
from his papers. "Not at the moment, no. I'm sure I've heard something, a
legend, about a demon with a sword through his chest, but I can't seem to find
any of my bloody manuscripts."

Buffy
stared at him silently while he continued to sift. She scratched her arm, then
the side of her head. Wriggling slightly, she adjusted her tank-top. After a
moment, she looked up, noticing that he was still searching, and (rudely)
ignoring her. Finally, she sighed and said, "We've got donuts."

Giles
looked up. "Jellies?"

Buffy
smiled. "If Xander didn't eat them all by now."

An
almost frantic look (for Giles, anyway) came over his face, and he grabbed his
papers, standing up and stalking out the door. Buffy grinned to herself when she
heard Giles angrily yell, "Xander!"
Apparently, her friend had been extremely hungry today.

She
walked back outside into the main library and couldn't help but smirk when she
saw Giles chastising the young brunet male, who was apparently attempting to
become part turtle by shrinking into his shirt. For some reason, it felt oddly
satisfying to see Giles yelling at him, but she couldn't for the life of her
understand why. Wiggy.

At
that moment, Willow pushed open the doors, followed closely by Oz, whose hair
was still blue, but a lighter, more vibrant shade. The color seemed awfully
familiar for some reason. "Hey, Buffy!" Willow called. Oz raised his
hand in greeting, plopping down onto the end of the table and pulling Willow
down next to him. Buffy's eyes lingered on the way he gently stroked her best
friend's hand with his thumb, feeling a little pang of jealousy inside of her. <
No. No, no, no. Not gonna get achy over loosing my boyfriend. It happened, now
he's an asshole, and I have to kill him. That's it. >

She
shook herself out of her daze and smiled warmly at her red-headed friend.
"Hey, Wills. How's it going?"

Willow
smiled, sneaking a glance at Oz, as he watched Giles berating Xander curiously.
"It's going good. Really good."

Buffy
smiled. "That's great." < For you... >

Oz
raised his gaze from the duo at the end of the table. "Did we miss
something?" he asked.

Buffy
shook her head. "Xander ate the jelly donuts without leaving any for
Giles."

"I
did too!" Xander said back indignantly, then sheepishly pulled out the half
of a strawberry jelly that was left. "He's still got this..."

Buffy
rolled her eyes. "That's the last time I leave you with the donuts."

Giles
scowled, shaking his head and snatching a...blech... glazed.
"Anyway. To business." He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, swallowed,
then turned to Buffy. "Has Spike been in any contact with you since you
left last night?"

Spike.
Buffy's eyes widened as she heard the name. Images came crashing back, and
sensations danced across her lips as she recalled everything she had presently
forgotten. Spike had kissed her last night. Oh... right. The softness... his
gentleness, which was just odd. He'd been kind. Spike... had been kind...
What the hell kind of freaky world did she live in? Vampires were supposed to
hate her, want her dead, want to taste her blood, right? Instead, Spike, the
so-called Slayer of Slayers, had kissed her and, if she wasn't entirely
mistaken, had liked it. That was definitely not supposed
to happen! Spike didn't have a soul, he was soulless, and he reveled in the
kill! She couldn't be all... happy-feeling after he'd kissed her! She wasn't
supposed to feel that at all! Her eyes widened even more
as the realization struck. Oh, god, she was having happies over a kiss from
Spike! A Spike kiss had her all... happy...

Bad
Buffy images were starting to push their way into her brain. Somebody had better
interrupt soon, or else she just might --

"Buffy?"

She
looked up. "Wha -- huh?"

Giles
was looking a slight bit worried as he gazed at her. "Are... are you all
right? Did you hear me?"

Buffy
blinked, shaking her head, before taking a deep breath and meeting her Watcher's
gaze head on. "Oh -- er, yeah. Um... no, he hasn't gotten back to me. He
doesn't have my phone number, so he can't call, and he doesn't exactly have
day-walking priveleges. And it's not like I'd let him in my house or anything,
you know?" < Shit! That's exactly what I did! I let the
blood-thirsty whore-mongrel into my house! Wait, whore mongrel...? Okay, not the
time, Buff... > "So... no. No contact. My guess? We won't
get anything new till tonight." < Or until he decides that he
wants to take advantage of his new invite and flaunt a dead, bleeding Buffy as a
message. >

Actually,
if she wanted to be honest, she was half-expecting the library doors to come
flying open, and Spike to come barreling through any minute now with his shirt
unbuttoned and being blown back by an imaginary wind, every bit the anti-hero. <
And every bit as delicious and forbidden > her mind added
wickedly.

Buffy
sighed to herself. Okay, yeah, she had a thing for the forbidden bad boys.
Jeez... First Pike back in Los Angeles, then Angel when she'd first come to
Sunnydale, and now she seemed to be getting all bent out of shape over Spike.
And Spike was more the forbidden bad boy than either Pike or Angel were.

Grrr.

Oh,
Giles was talking. Might want to pay attention this time. "... only to find
that certain things have, for some reason, gone missing from my desk, so I
suggest that we all reconvene tonight at seven. I presume from what... Spike
told us," -- Buffy tried to ignore how distasteful her Watcher sounded when
he said the bleach blonde's name -- "that Angelus and Drusilla go out to
hunt as soon as the sun sets every night, and do not return until just an hour
before dawn. That should give Spike plenty of time to arrive and give us any
information he may or may not have."

Buffy
nodded slowly. "And meanwhile, I should...?"

Giles
glanced at her warmly. "Sit back. Relax. You've been training too hard
lately. I don't believe you've had a good night's sleep since..." He
trailed off. < Since Angel lost his soul, > Buffy
knew he wanted to say. Either that, or < Jenny's death, >
which was true, because her ability to sleep had pretty much been wiped out by
her guilt over the technopagan's murder. At least she'd been sleeping a bit
after Angelus decided to pop out, but not anymore.

Giles
drew a deep breath. "Go straight home tonight. Go to sleep. Rest. Eat.
Spend some time with your mother, I'm sure she'll be glad to see you home.
We," indicating the whole group around him, "shall take over patrol
tonight."

Willow
hopped off the table next to Oz and put an arm gently around Buffy. "Tell
ya what. You can even start now!"

Giles
instantly began to protest. "Now, Willow, I meant she must still stay in
class --"

The
young hacker nodded earnestly. "Oh, I know. But Algebra Two/Trig is next,
and Buffy always falls asleep in that class, so I figure, what a great way to
start the day, you know?"

Buffy
tried hard not to grin at the frown on Giles's face. It would've been just too
easy to make a crack, but not even poor Giles seemed up to chastising her for it
today. "Thanks, Giles. Please don't get killed tonight, and, like, arm
yourselves to the nose with crucifixes and stuff, 'kay?"

Xander
looked at her, confused. "Uh, don't you mean, 'arm yourselves to the
teeth,' Buff?"

Buffy
shrugged. "Teeth, nose, whatever. It's all up there. Wear bullet-proof,
holy-water drenched, cross-covered vests if you have to, just don't let
yourselves get killed, or even injured."

Oz
nodded. "Got any weapons we can borrow?"

Buffy
sighed, biting her lower lip. "There are the ones down here, in Giles's
weapons chest, and then I've got a few, say, hundred bottles of holy water at
home, plus stakes, and the crosses and my crossbow. I'll drop by at lunch and
get them." She suddenly became very severe, standing straight and glaring
at everyone in the room. "Anyone even plucks the trigger wrong, and I'll
hunt you down. That crossbow is my baby."

Xander
saluted. "Check. Don't trigger Buffy's baby." He froze for a moment,
frowning in confusion. "Wait a minute, that sounded a lot more...
um..."

"Ludicrous?"
Willow supplied.

Xander
snapped his fingers. "That's it. It sounded more lunacrust than I meant
it."

Buffy
rolled her eyes. "Sure, Buffy with a baby is lunacrust. Why don't we just
call me hopeless, too?"

Xander
shrugged sheepishly, saying "Sorry," as Willow rolled her eyes and
corrected both of them at the same time, "It's ludicrous."

Giles
frowned. "What's ludicrous?"

Willow's
eyes widened, and she groaned, putting her head in her hands. Oz comforted her,
patting her back gently, a vague curl at the corners of his lips visible.
"This entire conversation, apparently."

Buffy
giggled, gently tugging Willow from Oz's grasp and placing an arm around her.
"Come on, Wills. I need to catch up on some sleep next class." Willow
nodded, smiling slightly, while Buffy turned and waved to her Watcher.
"Thanks again, Giles. I'll see you tomorrow, then?"

Giles
nodded. "Of course."

Buffy
tugged Willow out the double doors of the library, Oz trailing behind. Xander
lingered slightly over the donut box, so long that he let out a yip when Giles
slapped his hand on the desk, giving him a thunderous scowl.

"Xander,
get to class!"

He
hadn't shown up tonight. Well, he had, but he apparently hadn't stayed long.
Giles had called her, telling her that Spike had come into the library, only to
find that Buffy was not there, and had backed out again instantly, not coming
back when Giles had called him.

"Were
you going to try and kill him?" she'd asked her Watcher.

"Possibly,"
Giles had replied.

Buffy
had grinned, then started laughing. "Then there's your answer, Research
Man."

Giles
had given her an indignant huff, chastised her for her lack of respect to her
elders, not that those chastisings actually got anywhere, then ordered her to
eat dinner and bade her good night.

So
now she was sleeping, as she had been all afternoon after she'd gone down to eat
dinner with Joyce and Dawn. Joyce had been ecstatic at finally having her eldest
join her for a good home-cooked meal. "We've seen so less of you recently
that we were wondering if you'd moved out!" Joyce had told her. Dawn had
sulked. "That means I can't have your room, huh?" she'd asked,
receiving a nasty glare from Buffy and a whap upside the head in response.

Sleep
was good. Sleep was really good, although her sheets were beginning to feel
funny after hacing been there all day. And that damn shiver running up and down
her spine was driving her crazy. It usually wasn't so damn cold in Sunnydale at
night.

She
wondered vaguely why Spike hadn't stuck around when he'd seen that she wasn't
there. After all, without the Slayer hovering over him, he could have easily
gone after the rest of the group and killed them. < But no, >
her thoughts reminded her, < Spike wants to get rid of Angelus and
Dru as badly as you do. He probably wouldn't have breached a promise. >

<
But did he really promise me that he wouldn't harm anyone, or was that just
something he said to appease my threats? >
another voice asked.

Stupid
indecisions. How funny that she would begin to have doubts after she had already
taken him into the Anti-Angelus movement. Shouldn't she have had the doubts prior
to her decision? Hadn't she? Eh, go figure.

She
nearly screeched when a weight settled down next to her on the bed. Instantly,
she tried to spin around, but found that cool, rough hands were holding her
down, one arm pinning her arms to her sides, the other reaching around her and
covering her mouth. Slowly, carefully, she was turned over, and the body slid on
top of her, straddling her legs. The hand moved off of her mouth, joining the
other hand in holding her arms steady. An sparkling pair of cerulean blue eyes
peered down at her intently. She gaped.

"Spike?"
she spat. "What the hell are you doing in my room?" she asked in
disbelief.

Spike
smirked. He could take her right now, and she would never say a word. He had
uncovered her mouth and given her the chance to scream bloody murder, but she
hadn't done it. And his body wasn't holding her down that
securely. Buffy could twist free at any moment.

He'd
been thinking about her all morning, really. After the first hand-job he'd had,
he'd stared down in disbelief and encountered the fact that, yes, he was
still up and hard and, yes, it was because he was thinking about her.
His cock had been very sore by the time the sun had set, and he'd managed to
clean up very well when Angelus and Drusilla had made their nightly torture
visit into the study to see him. And, he'd made a resolution to himself. Since
Buffy seemed to be the one causing his suddenly perpetual hardness, Buffy could
be the one to take care of it. The minute Angelus and Dru had left, Spike had
taken off for Revello Drive. < Thank God Buffy invited me in, >
he thought as he gazed down at her.

The
little bitch looked lovely as always. Her hair was sprawled all over her pillow,
and it was sort of sticking up. Her jaw was set, and her lips were pressed
together in a furious line, her eyes gazing back at him in shock and hate and
disbelief. She was wearing a dark green tank top with thin straps on the
shoulders, and a pair of black cotton boxers. He peered over the side of the
bed, searching for scraps of underwear, and almost instantly, he detected small
cotton panties flung toward the laundry basket.

Ah,
perfect. She was ready, if not willing, and very fuckable. His cock strained
against his jeans with the thought.

"Do
you think I haven't noticed how you look at me, Summers?" he started,
smirking hungrily down at her. "You think I haven't noticed the way you smell
when you look at me? That I can't tell that I make you wetter'n the Pacific
Ocean?" Buffy gasped in shock, and Spike's smirk widened. She hadn't. She
really hadn't realized that vampires could smell arousal. But as he pressed down
against her, he realized that she knew all-too-well the effects she had on most
vampires.

Buffy
gave another sharp gasp as he began rubbing his hips against hers. That had to
be the hardest thing she had ever felt in her life! What the hell was in this
guy's pants, the Empire State Building?

The
Slayer Warning bell was going off in her head, screaming, Danger,
Danger!, and she instantly began to struggled, trying to get out
from underneath him. What the hell had suddenly brought this on? She knew that
Spike had, for reasons unknown to her, developed some kind of attraction to her
-- hell, she'd seen it on his face yesterday, she hadn't needed that
kiss -- but why all of a sudden was he in her room, rubbing against her like a
cat in heat, and hard enough to cut glass? The only aroused part of a male she
had really come in contact with had been Angel's... and it hadn't felt as hard
as this. Spike seemed to be at a breaking point -- almost literally.

He
shoved her down roughly when she began to struggle, then, one hand still holding
her arms above her head, he lowered the other to her thinly-covered breast. When
he squeezed, Buffy gave a soft moan, and almost instantly relaxed. Spike gave a
predatory smirk. Perfect. One squeeze, and she was putty in his hands. He
reached up and tugged the strap of her tank top down, then lowered the cloth,
uncovering one small, perfect, milky-white breast.

Oh,
hell. If Buffy was putty, Spike was pretty much Jell-O. Groaning softly, he
lowered his head and captured the tiny, berry-colored nipple in his mouth,
sucking it between his teeth. Buffy gave a soft cry, arching up under him,
pressing her breast further into his face. < Oh, God, >
she thought. He hadn't even put his fingers down there,
and here, she was half-way to her climax already. What was
it about him that made her hormones get so damn overcharged?!

Thoughts
of Angel, of her friends, of her mother and Dawn being in the other rooms flew
out of her head as Spike's hand began to creep down her body. Tugging lightly on
the elastic of her boxers, he slipped his hand inside, fingers curling into her
mound. At the feel of his slightly chilled fingers, Buffy snapped to attention
again, trying to push him away. Anything to get away from him. This was Spike
she was here with! How could she be doing this? How could she even let herself think
of letting him touch her?! He was vile, disgusting, a demon, dead, and most of
all, the enemy...

He
slipped one finger inside of her, testing her arousal, while his thumb began to
circle the small swollen button of nerves. Buffy's Anti-Spike thoughts froze.

But god
did his hands feel good...

She
moaned again, softly, beginning to thrust against his hand as his fingers pumped
into her. How had no one ever made her feel like this, physically or otherwise?

Resolved,
she allowed herself to give in, just this once. It wasn't as if he had a soul to
lose, and one night with him couldn't hurt, if she failed to prevent the
apocalypse.

If
Spike was the devil, then he'd better reserve her a seat right next to him in
Hell.

"Yes...
yes," she moaned.

Spike
was practically salivating.

He
had climbed the tree after he had left the high school to take a peek at the
Slayer and see what was wrong with her. And that was when he'd seen her all
cuddled up in bed, blankets piled up over her head. It figured. She'd just been
tired, and Watcher Boy had given her the night off.

So
he'd swung himself onto the tree branch closest to her window, preparing to pop
in, give her a good scare, then haul her out to the cemetery to possibly get in
a shot at killing Angelus or Dru. But then, she'd shifted, and the strap of her
tank top had fallen down her shoulder.

And
then... her hands had started to travel up and down her sides. And when one hand
had reached her breast, she'd slid her hand into her top, and gently squeezed
it, giving out a low moan. Her legs had begun to thrash under the covers, and,
seeing as how they had been clumped up on the edge of the bed anyway, one swift
kick had knocked them all off, leaving her to Spike's view in a pair of black
boxers shorts. And...

His
eyes widened. Her other hand was inside the shorts. And her moans were gaining
pleasure.

So
now, Spike sat there on the branch, intently watching the Slayer finger herself,
desperately trying not to drool on himself, and savagely squeezing the big
insatiable lump in his jeans.

And
then he heard it, so low that were he not a vampire, it would have gone
unnoticed. As it was, it shocked him so badly that he fell right out of the tree
with a yelp.

After
a moment of wondering why all the bad things on earth seemed to happen to him,
he sat up and relaxed against the trunk of the tree. And then he'd smiled.

Glancing
down, he gave his crotch a reassuring pat, saying softly, "Don't worry.
You'll get your treat soon enough." Then he stretched slightly, and groaned
as he stood up.

Walking
away from 1630 Revello Drive, Spike's smile grew as his mind replayed the softly
whispered cry again.

"Spike!"

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Full of Grace