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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
- 5
- 6
- 7
Full of
Grace

+part five+

Buffy rolled over in bed, waking promptly for school for the first time since she became the Slayer. Stretching out comfortably, she ran one hand up her stomach and 'mmm'ed softly in contentment. Hard to say what had given her the late-night happy exactly. Maybe the fact that she'd fallen asleep brick-hard and had finally gotten a decent night's rest, for the first time since Ms. Calendar's death.

Or it could've had something to do with the erotic Spike-dream that she'd had... which she'd unconsciously gotten herself off to. Something that she had never even realized was possible!

Yeah, the Erotic Spike-Dream was a biiiiig honking part of it.

Buffy sighed and flopped onto her back again in defeat. Okay, so while her mind was busy knife-stroking up DeNile, the rest of her was doing the whole primordial thing and apparently stating, very loud, and very clear, "We want Spike! Give us Spike!"

Hmph. At least they were straightforward about it.

Okay. She could do this. She could admit this to herself.

She was attracted to Spike. Big time. In the throw-me-down, rip-my-clothes-off, bite-me, suck-me, lick-me, fuck-me, beat-me-and-make-me-love-it kinda way.

And, really, the evil bloodsucking fiend aspect aside? Why shouldn't she be attracted to him? As established the first time she'd seen him, Spike was hot. And not Angel-hot, Spike was a hotness all his own. Spike's hotness could establish a country ruled by democracy, by the people, for the people, all in favor of Spike... never mind having it's own zip code.

Oooh... And with the way he'd been watching her lately -- not to mention The Kiss -- combined with the big lump she'd noticed growing in his jeans every time she got close to him... Seriously, how could she not have a reaction to him? After all, he was certainly having a big reaction to her.

"BUFFY!" she heard her sister screech. "GET DOWN HERE NOW! IF YOU MAKE ME LATE, MOM WON'T LET ME SPEND THE NIGHT AT CHELSEA'S!"

Buffy's head slowly turned to the left as she glanced at the alarm clock by her bedside. She groaned and her head flopped back. 7:45 a.m.

Her lower lip thrust out. < Wah! >

There was something occupying the 'little one.'

Angelus had been watching him for over an hour now, and though he knew that Spike was fully aware he was being scrutinized, that didn't stop the blonde from drifting off into his own little world every five minutes. It wasn't really anything odd, but the thoughtful, slightly confused look on Spike's face was bringing out Angelus' curiosity -- which was consequently annoying the piss out of him.

Angelus had even tried to have Drusilla read her Childer, but not even that had worked. The only oddity to come out of that was, as usual, Dru and her insane ramblings about the moon and stars.

It looked like the only way Angelus would get an answer about his grandchilde's distraction would be if he either a) asked him or b) beat it out of him.

And with the way things were going for Spike lately, neither one of those options sounded fun anymore, as Spike was numb in all the places that would make the second option hilarious.

Fuck.

Whatever. It didn't matter anyway. Nothing mattered - except, of course, his revenge against a certain blonde little Slayer.

He grinned to himself. Oh, yeah. Not to mention bringing Hell to Earth. Naturally.

Spike was utterly confused. He wasn't sure why... as things seemed pretty simple to him. At least, they should after what he'd witnessed last night. He now knew for sure -- yes, the Slayer fancied him. The question of the day was why.

Not that he blamed the poor chit. Probably had taken one look at him, and hadn't been able to resist. The thought made a smug smile crawl across Spike's face. Which he then quickly covered up, should his "sire" see it. Angelus has been watching him obsessively since Spike had wheeled himself down the hallway and out of his room that evening, not bothering to take part in their choice of meal tonight -- a luscious, brown-haired girl with luminescent blue eyes. Angelus had taken particular joy in terrifying the hell out of the poor girl before diving for her throat.

But back on topic...

As mentioned before, Spike knew quite well that he was under scrutiny. Which meant that he was trying (with not too much difficulty) to make it seem as though he was brooding -- not, not brooding, Big Bads never brooded, that was for poncy 'once upon a time I had a soul' gits like Angelus -- moping, over Drusilla.

Yeah, right.

All those years... One hundred and eighteen joyous years of bloodshed and mayhem, with Drusilla by his side... Pointless. Worthless. Less than nothing. Drusilla was nothing short of a whore. And he was a fool not to have acknowledged it sooner.

Well, better late than never.

It still hurt... hearing her with him every night, knowing that it was simply done for his benefit, so he would be tortured and furious and hateful, and every bit of a bloody killer as he'd been before they'd come to this godforsaken town... He still hated it. He hated Buffy for crippling him in the first place, allowing him to become weak in his ex-lover's eyes. He hated Drusilla for not loving him more, for not loving him enough... for not loving him in the first place, going directly to Daddy the minute he was back. He hated the Powers That Be for permitting the most royal of sick fucking jokes to be played on him. He hated himself for becoming so damn weak, for wallowing in his self pity and his pointless jealousy while Angelus situated himself in his place and took the only thing he'd had to his name.

And he hated Angelus just because the asshole deserved it.
< Stupid bloody wanker. >

But it always came back to two certain women: Buffy and Drusilla. One woman that Angelus wanted to fuck and murder and destroy (although he'd fucked up his chances on the fucking her part by the bullshit that had come out of his mouth the day of his return), and one woman that he just plain wanted for the sake of the Childe/Sire bond, and annoying the hell out of Spike.

Spike would be damned... okay, not the best choice of words, as he already was damned, but Spike would as sooner run outside in the broad daylight wearing a cross around his neck in the nude before he'd let Poofy get his way.

That settled it, then. Spike was going to have Buffy Summers, the Slayer.

But first, he had to find a new room. Faaaar away from the S&M Energizer bunnies.

It didn't take him long after seeing her again to realize that... there was no way he could resist her.

Spike had bravely subjected himself to torture by yet again attending a meeting with Buffy and her... er... associates. And it hadn't just been the regular, meticulous idiocy of the whole group (with the exception of Willow and Wolf Boy, combined with the intensity of the migraine that usually accompanied Xander's presence whenever he came in Spike's general vicinity) that began to annoy him.

It was being so close to her.

Little things popped out at him as he began to understand how futile it was to fight any attraction to the girl. He had, in fact, noticed that her lower lip had a tendency to extend when Giles was lecturing and/or reading his excessively boring books out loud. And he had also noticed (though quite long ago) that her lower lip also quivered when she cried. He knew that despite the misery that Angelus had taken great pleasure in subjecting her to, she was fighting it off as fiercely as the feline predators that the vampires of Spike's line had always been compared to might (with exception of Angelus, who stumbled around like an elephant with a head cold). He'd noticed the sadness was receding from her eyes.

And try as he might to ignore it (especially with the two so-called anti-vampire vigilantes in the room) he couldn't help but notice her even more when she wore her short little skirts, her tight little tops, the bras that she seemed to want to forego, the way her ass swayed from side to side as she walked, the way her cute, pert little titties bounced, the tiny little outlines her nipples made against her shirts when the prats in this school turned the air conditioner on too high...

It was all he could do not to toss her on the ground and pound into her from behind when she always, always so slowly leaned over a table and made her pretty little ass stick straight up in the air everytime she was near him oh Christ he had to fuck her bite her taste her have her, and he had to do it SOON.

But meanwhile, he was kicking himself for zooming back toward her like a bee to honey. Well, he'd had it now. All those thoughts had gotten him horny and riled up, so, if anything, he was at least going to corner her in the stacks and get a little groping in (at the least). It might calm him down a little bit -- or, at least until he could actually thrust into her without sullying everyone else's stupid silly little virtuous visions of her first.

Naturally, that would come later.

At the moment, her head was down on the table, chin resting on her hands, much the way a feline might during it's rest, her pretty green eyes glaring resentfully at the giant ninety-chapter tome sitting in front of her. He could practically read her thoughts in those eyes, and they were currently saying, "Die, Giles. Die, die, die."

Or maybe that was just his wishful thinking.

Maybe she thought if she stared long enough at it, she could set it on fire with her glares. Hell, he'd always wondered if Slayers had any powers besides their strength, speed and healing.

He waited a beat, anticipating the demise of the book in a fiery explosion from the onslaught of her eyes.

Huh. So much for other powers.

Eventually, though, it appeared she'd finally had enough of staring at the book, and she got up and walked out of the library. Spike noticed that not a one of her friends acknowledged this. Beyond odd, although to be fair, everyone else was hidden either in the stacks, or by an enormous pile of research. But otherwise, this was much appreciated, given that now would be the prime time to shag her senseless. His hormones were raging, and he was more than a little desperate to get off, given that he was currently no-longer-getting-any from his cheating cunt-bitch of a former mate.

Yes, former. He had actually felt his bloodclaim -- the one that literally made her scent and presence jump up and scream out at him, "MATE!" -- completely dissolve two nights ago. Her infidelities with Angelus hadn't done a thing to erase his mark, but when Angelus was feeling frisky, apparently all it took was a well-placed bite mark. And given that the Master and Darla were both dead and gone, and Angelus was the Master of their line, it was only natural (and obvious) that Spike's claim would be immediately over-ridden.

Well, yeah, anyway. That had happened just after he'd witnessed Buffy's interactive dreaming, the night that he'd moved across the mansion in order to avoid Tweedle-Dipstick and Tweedle-Dickhead. He supposed it was closure.

He had caught up to her by now, just barely. She really was a quick little wench when she wanted to be. Maybe she knew she was being followed. Hell, he didn't care. Just so long as she got them as far away as possible from the library so nobody heard her scream. In the pleasant way, of course. So, of course, it didn't matter how fast she went.

He could be faster.

"Slayer!" he called out, his combat boots thudding hard as she charged down the hall after her. There was no way in hell she couldn't have heard him. And yet the bitch didn't turn around.

Well. She was gonna play like that, then? Well he could play, too, and much, much dirtier. A wicked grin curled his lips.

"Slay - er, Buffy!" he called again, and this time he succeeded in getting her attention. She spun around to gape at him in surprise. Well, he figured she had the right. He'd never (really) called her by name before, just title.

The surprised fish look went on for a bit until Buffy comprehended who was chasing her. And then she rolled her eyes. "What do you want?" she asked.

Spike went into acting mode. (He was gonna have to if he wanted Buffy to fall for his little seduction thing.) Creeping closer, he tilted his head, peering closely at her.

"Are you alright, luv?" he asked.

Buffy snorted - not very lady-like of her at all. "What do you care? You're a vampire, remember? Evil undead? I'm the Slayer. I don't really believe that you actually care what's wrong with my life."

Spike pushed his lower lip out into a pout, then grinned when she frowned and turned her head away to ignore it. His hand reached out to grasp her arm, slowly sliding down her soft, yet hard bicep, and trailing down until it left her arm completely and rested on her waist. The grin only widened when he felt her stomach muscles tense up at the contact.

"Why wouldn't I care what's wrong with you, luv? We're... friends. Aren't we?" At this point, he was murmuring into her ear, his other arm snaking around her waist until she was trapped against him, her back against every inch of his front. One hand slowly began stroking up and down her belly, and he hooked his chin over her shoulder, pressing himself firmly against her.

Buffy shuddered at the sensations that their new position evoked. Oh, ggggod, it felt so good...
<< It'd be even better if his hand moved just... a little... lower... >> the secret voice in the back of her mind whispered treacherously.
<< Bad voice! Evil voice! Go away! >> Buffy thought back at it viciously. She snapped to at once and shrugged Spike off of her.

"No! No, Spike, we're NOT friends. We never have, and never will BE FRIENDS. We. Are. Enemies. Of the mortal kind. Slayer. Vampire." (Her hands were moving back and forth, as if weighing the differences between them.) "Grrr, argh. Does this ring any bells for you?"

Spike merely smiled and moved closer to her. His ultimate plan was to seduce the Slayer -- well, okay, his ultimate plan was actually to get laid (and well), and dammit, NOTHING was going to stop him!

Buffy was still yapping. "... I mean, GOD, you must be blind AND stupid AND a lunatic if you even see anything between us. You must be if you see an 'us' at all! There IS no 'us!' What the hell are you even thinking?!"

Christ. It was a good thing that she'd led him to the other side of the school. If she'd been yelping this loudly in front of the library doors, then they'd have been rudely interrupted by the Scooby Dipshits yesterday.

He was backing her up against the wall, now, his smooth, deep baritone rumbling deep into her very core. "I'm thinking," he began, "That we're in the same boat. Birds of a feather and the like. Spurned lovers. Stupid, vain former mates that figure it's okay to cheat on us out in the open." A slow grin, as he looked her up and down. "Why not make the most of it all?"

Buffy's eyes widened, and she managed to simultaneously cough and choke a bit. "W-what? Make the most of... huh?" she croaked, backing up faster - upon which she smacked directly into the wall and yelped, looking up at him in alarm.

Spike chuckled and placed both hands on her shoulders, rubbing gently, before his hands took on a mind of their own and began slipping her spaghetti straps down. He leaned in, once again pressing his length against her and slipping a leg between both of hers. His head bent down, and he placed his soft lips along her now-bare shoulder.

"Relax... Buffy," he whispered.

His touch was so cold. Buffy shivered, from both the coldness and from her (apparently) unwilling reaction to him. Her hands weakly attempted to push him away, but her hormones were beginning to take over, and were currently very focused on the nice source of friction that was placed between her legs. Hmph. Stupid libido.

His lips continued to dance down her shoulder, and he raised her arm, transplanting his cool caress to the inside of her elbow. His tongue darted out, licking her skin hungrily, and suddenly, he hoisted her up into his arms, pushing her firmly against the wall. Buffy yelped, her hands scrabbling for purchase; she ended up grabbing his biceps through the leather coat he wore.

Oh, this was in no way like her dream. In her dream, at least, she'd been more herself. She'd fought back, and she'd snarked at him at first. But here, right now, she was anything but herself. And in truth, it had been so long since Angel had changed, and so long since she had been touched so intimately by someone besides herself, that she was beginning to wonder if maybe Giles really was just a big blowhard about all the dangers of fucking vampires, and was seriously contemplating throwing caution to the wind. Or at least, any caution around Spike. If he could make her feel this good, whether he was gonna kill her or fucked her, then it was worth letting up her guard.

Spike was getting more and more adventurous with his teeth, lips and tongue, and was currently nibbling across her chest. Her top slipped lower and lower, the curves of each small, perky breast appearing. Spike ducked his head and swiped his tongue up in a straight line between them, causing a shocked exhale to escape her lips. Reacting instinctively, her legs came up around his waist, and one hand grasped the back of his head, pulling him closer. No thought to the fact that he was a vicious, century's old vampire, no thought to the fact that for months he'd wanted to kill her, no thought to how close his teeth actually were to her neck.

It all dissolved away, leaving him, her, and his lips. God, his lips...

Spike began sucking on her skin, tracing the little marks he made with the tip of his tongue to sooth them. Abstractly, he knew it was a very stupid idea to try and take the Slayer right in the middle of a hallway when any one of her damned friends could wander around and find them, but when he compared that to the soft, breathy moans she was making, reason pretty much flew out the window.

He pulled her top down and fastened his lips around the soft pink tip of her breast.

Buffy moaned, leaning her head against the wall. Spike's hand moved up to cup the creamy mound of flesh as he sucked on her nipple. His other gripped her ass tightly. Pulling her up, he ground his hard, thick bulge against her. All he could think was
< Thank God, she's wearing a skirt! >

"Buffy," he whispered, pulling his mouth off of her, kissing and licking at her naked chest.

"Oh, god, Spike," she gasped, her hips beginning to thrust against his. "Please, please, please," she whimpered. Her body shifted, and she started to move up and down, desperate to gain any sort of friction against her most sensitive spot.

"What do you want, baby?" he asked, hoisting her up again, so that she bounced against him. She gave a small cry as her pussy pounded right against his jean-covered cock. Spike reached between them and pushed her skirt up around her waist, smiling when he revealed her cute, frilly little blue panties. His clever fingers moved between her legs, and without any pretense whatsoever, began rubbing quick, aching circles around her clit. Buffy yelped, her hips bucking.

"M-more," she groaned, wrapping her legs around him more tightly, all the while attempting to spread her legs wider.

"You want my hand, precious?" he asked, gently prodding her panties to the side. At the first full contact of his cold fingers on the quivering, moist skin, she cried out, "Yes!"

Spike smiled and shoved the panties away. "Like this?" he began, then demonstrated by running the tip of his finger along the outer lips of her pussy. She whined, her head thrashing from side to side, her body twitching. Spike chuckled softly, and her head shot up to glare at him.

"Spike -- if you're gonna do something, then stop fucking around and fucking DO it! Quit STALLING!" she growled.

He raised his eyebrows, then shrugged. "Well, if you insist." Then he pressed his fingers tightly against her hard, extended clit, rubbing faster. Buffy threw her head back and screeched, her fingers desperately trying to grab onto something besides her sudden lover. "That what you mean, princess? My hand in you? My hand touching, rubbing, making you scream? My hand up your sweet, hot
quim?"

Buffy was nearly sobbing with pleasure, arching her hips and thrusting hotly. "Oh, god... oh, Spike, yes... please, please!"

Spike leaned in to her, licking and nipping at her earlobe, his index finger now tracing a mischievous circle around the entrance to her pussy. "How bad do you want it?"

Now she really was crying, tears of frustration running down her cheeks. "Spike, PLEASE! I want it! I want it bad!"

He grinned, gently probing his finger into the hole. "What is it that you want again?"

Buffy clenched her teeth and fought the urge to either scream or bite him -- although, knowing Spike, either one would make him move faster. "Touch me, Spike!"

His eyes twinkled in amusement. The bastard was enjoying her torture! "Where?"

One of her hands came off of his shoulder, and she whapped him upside the head. "Touch. My. Pussy. Finger me, do SOMETHING to me, I don't care, just do it!"

For a second it looked as if he was going to listen to her. And then he dropped her to the ground, fingers still firmly inside of her, making her 'eep.' "Anything?" he asked.

Buffy's eyes blazed. "Anything." The glare faded and she
blushed as she realized she sounded like something of a nympho.

Spike was mesmerized. For a minute, he stood there doing absolutely nothing except watching her, and when she began to fidget from her discomfort, he was on her again, lips pressed firmly against hers in their first kiss since the night they'd, er, gone patrolling.

Buffy gave a muffled yelp at the sudden sensation of his lips on hers, but much as they had the first time, her protests lost their vehemence, and she fell into the kiss. Spike's lips frantically attacked hers, and when she yelled at her brain to stop thinking, and began encouraging her long-neglected libido, she was on him just as much.

And then, Spike began moving down. His lips trailed
over the smooth column of her neck, his tongue flicking out to taste her. He
worked his way down to her breasts once more, and 'worship' was the only
appropriate word for what he was doing to her body. He placed open mouthed
kisses along her stomach as he fell to his knees, and with her skirt bunched up
about her tiny waist, all he needed to do was give her panties a good hard yank
before they fell to the floor, and she was revealed to him.
The incredible burst of her arousal hit him full force
in the face, and his cock sprang up to press painfully against the zipper of his
jeans. His lips moved over her abdomen, his tongue becoming more and more
adventurous the closer he got to her center. And when his lips pressed against
her own, she let out a grateful wail and nearly collapsed on top of him. His
hands quickly moved up to catch her around the hips, pinning her to the wall. He
pushed his body in between her legs, spreading them apart as best as he could,
then dipped his head down and swiped his tongue up her slit.
Buffy sobbed. Oh, god, this was really happening to
her. She was actually letting Spike go down on her! And oh, god,
he was so good at it...
She had never felt this way before. Her one and only
sexual experience with Angel had been gentle, soothing, everything that a
romance novelist would envy in writing. Not carnal. Angel had introduced her
only to the main act. His fingers had traveled below the waist in order to
prepare her, of course, but then it had been nothing but their hips meeting
sexually.
Apparently, Spike was aware of a whole lot more than
that. She was beginning to get dizzy from watching the stars spin around her
head every time he sucked on her clit or traced his tongue around her hole. So
obviously, when he pushed his tongue inside of her, it was justifiable that she
screamed so loud, her voice echoed down the school corridor. Hopefully not loud
enough to send the Peanut Brigade hurrying after them.
Her hips began to thrust against his mouth, her hands
moving to his head, entangling themselves in his hair. His hair was so smooth
and silky, one would never realize that he probably treated it weekly with that
stupid peroxide. Well, they wouldn't if they were blind.
His hands reached in front of her and began to finger
her clit, rubbing and flicking it back and forth as he fucked his tongue in and
out of her. This was by no means the first time he'd done this to a human being.
When Drusilla had been in one of her spells, and he'd been left out in the cold,
he'd had to find the necessary arrangements to, well, get off. And on the
occasion that the substitute had pleased him, he'd repay her for it accordingly,
before eating her - in the literal, blood-sucking way.
Buffy was all kinds of different. First of all, he'd
never seduced the Slayer before. Any other Slayer that he'd come in contact with
probably would have attempted to behead him - or worse, castrate him. Any other
Slayer would have been cold and unfeeling and unresponsive, and later probably
would have attempted suicide for accepting a demon into her bed. Slayers
generally didn't make a habit of sleeping with vampires, though, which, he
supposed, worked out well for him, now that he'd met Buffy. She seemed to have
no problem going against her elder sisters' traditions - after all, she'd fallen
in love with a vampire, hadn't she? Albeit, he was a self-righteous ponce with a
soul, but he was still, in demon, a vampire.
Spike had to admit how often he'd wondered about
it. When he'd first seen her, there had been no doubt in his mind that she
oozed sexuality, that she was most definitely not a virgin. And,
yes, well, he'd been quite wrong about that. (Giving it up to Angel? That
pansy, of all people?)
But she moved as though she was a sex goddess, which
was what had cemented the not-a-virgin thing in Spike's brain. So when he'd
finally gotten up close and personal with her, and had smelled the innocence in
her blood, he'd been understandably surprised. And with what happened later,
given the giant organ falling on him and rendering him incapacitated, he hadn't
been able to carry out his very, very dear wish of deflowering
her. And then she'd fucked Angelus, and the world was shot to hell.
Except now he was getting his chance. He'd seen the
changes in her, and realized how much she truly regretted becoming intimate with
the Great Gelled Poof - or maybe that was just his wishful thinking, but anyway,
the point was, she'd given up on Angel. She realized he wasn't going to come
back to her, and she was moving on to someone else.
And hopefully this would be just as good for her as it
was for him. She tasted so sweet - like sun kissed peaches and ripe, tangy
berries. And she was so hot, so burning hot. None of the human girls he'd been
with before had ever tasted like this... this vibrant, strong explosion of
womanliness and good GOD he wanted inside of her so badly. But he had a feeling
he would only be able to sate himself with her pleasure tonight.
He tongued her until her whimpers became louder, and
transformed from mewls, to moans, to shrieks in under .05 seconds. A warm
sensation began to travel along Buffy's abdomen, making her face flush and her
breath come faster and god oh god she was almost there so why wouldn't he just
--
A shriek resounded through the halls again, and
Buffy's hips flew up, humping wildly against Spike's face. "Oh! Spike, yes!
Oh god, oh god, oh, fuck, YES!" she cried out, nearly falling to the floor
as her legs gave out from under her again. Her body clenched, and she came in a
flood around his tongue, her back nearly bent over backwards from her pleasure.
Spike smiled to himself as he licked up all her
spendings. When was the last time he'd ever had a woman that responded like that
in bed? Or, not technically in bed, but in a hallway, or any other place,
really? Oh, Gods, he couldn't wait to have her all.
When Buffy recovered, she looked up at him and gave
him a weak grin. "Wow," she mumbled. And then it actually hit her. Her
eyes widened. "Wow?" She looked down at herself, then back up at
Spike, who had a smug, satisfied grin on his face. "Oh my god!" she
gasped, beginning to pull at her clothes. Panties, skirt and tank top all went
back to their appropriate places on her body, before she quickly looked up and
down the hall. Then she grabbed Spike by the lapels of his duster and shoved him
roughly against the wall.
"Did anybody see us?" she asked.
Spike, after letting out an indignant yelp for being
manhandled... or womanhandled, or whatever the word was in this case, scowled at
her. "No, luv. We were perfectly alone."
Buffy whimpered and smacked him. "Well I don't
wanna be 'perfectly alone' with you! You, you big... freaky pervert!"
Spike chuckled. "I'm the pervert? I
didn't just let an evil demon go down on me in a school hallway in plain sight
of anyone, did I?"
Buffy punched him this time, then slammed his head
back against the wall. "Shut. Up. I swear to God, if you tell anyone
about this, Spike, and by 'anyone,' I mean everyone living in this
little Hell on earth, I will chop off all of your extraneous parts and shove
them down your throat!" Her eyes lowered predictably to his pelvic regions,
which she then patted lightly, all the while giving him a sweet smile. "Got
me?"
Well. What could he say to that? Spike was, after all,
a man. He liked his parts. He liked them just where they were. Especially the
one she had her hands on at the moment.
What could he do? Spike swallowed hard and nodded.
"Gotcha. Crystal clear, you are."
Buffy nodded approvingly and dropped his parts.
"I'll see you back in the library," she said, as if nothing had
happened, and then she turned on her heel and began to walk down the corridor.
Before she could even move a step, Spike grabbed her
back and shoved her against the wall. He looked at her silently
for a moment, taking in her startled eyes and rigid form, before pressing his
lips against hers once more.
It was a rough, savage kiss that barely lasted more
than half a minute. But as she pulled away from him when he stopped, then walked
away dazedly, he figured he'd gotten his own message through pretty clear.
I won't tell if you won't.
She looked back at him once. And her head inclined
just the fraction of an inch. But he saw it, and smiled. She turned away again
and continued back to the library.
Spike stretched slowly as one hand rubbed over the now
raging erection that his jeans could barely contain.
This was going to be such fun. Angelus was going to
shit a brick when he found out.
Suddenly, he felt a prickling in the back of his mind,
and smirked confidently.
Shh. Don't tell.
He made his way after Buffy.

Large brown eyes opened, and a wicked smile curled
beautiful, full lips.
Drusilla sat up in bed, her Sire's
satiny bed sheets being the only thing covering her lithe body. Angelus had apparently taken to stalking the courtyard, hoping
that he would find Spike wheeling about, ready for more psychological torture.
Which proved fine for now, as Drusilla was at her most lucid -- a rarity that
usually alerted Angelus to when she had just picked apart someone's thoughts.
And, oh, the thoughts that she had just picked.
But she would do as her darling Childe desired. Not a
word would be spoken to her sire.
If Spike wanted to seduce the Slayer, thereby making
Drusilla the only woman in Angelus's life, then so be it. She had no qualms
against that.
And she figured she owed him. After all, if it hadn't
been for her herbs and spells, Spike wouldn't be walking right now.
She just didn't see a reason that Angelus needed to
know this. She was more interested in keeping his mind occupied with other
things - mainly her, and the end of the world.
Drusilla's smile widened, and she laid back down on
the bed.
"Don't worry, my pet," she murmured.
"Mummy's little bird won't sing."
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Full of Grace