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Author: Ameeya
Rating: NC-17
Timeline: S.3, during Lover’s Walk.
Summary: Spike returns to Sunnydale to kill the Slayer. He’s just too drunk to do it properly, and ends up getting himself into the deep without even realizing it. Perhaps worst of all, he has no memory of his actions the next day.
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em; I’m just playing. Please oh please, do not sue me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note: I have the BEST FRIENDS in the world. That is all.

It took a full two days following the Cruciamentum for Buffy’s strength to return. And though her mother wanted her to stay home until the bruises faded, she was oddly eager to get back to school. She wanted to see Willow and—moreover—wanted to get the big confrontation-explanation shindig with Giles and Angel very much in the past. Better now than later; then she could focus on how to tell Spike about the bite mark.

Furthermore, she was fairly certain she owed Angel an ass kicking.

“Okay,” Buffy said, pushing the library doors open. She didn’t even bother to feign surprise at seeing Angel hovering around the stacks. “First things first…”

“Buffy—” Giles said, his hands going up. “I don’t think you should do anything rash.”

Her fist connected with her ex’s chin, her eyes shining as he flew into a rack of books that were waiting to be re-shelved. “I can’t tell you how good that felt,” she spat, kicking him sharply in the side as a book plunked his head. “Almost as good as that.” She kicked him again. “You know, I think I’ll just keep this up until it gets boring. What do you say?”

“Buffy—”

She held up a hand, hooking her foot under Angel’s beefy chin. “Giles, the sooner I’m through with Angel, the sooner I start beating your overly-British ass for your role in the make-Buffy-dead plan. Do you really want me to rush this?”

There was a long pause. “Oh, no. Do go on.”

“Buffy,” Angel choked. “It’s…it was the Cruciamentum. It…we had no choice.”

“You had a choice. You had a choice to not use my boyfriend as a way to get me into the house with a madman. You had a choice to not drag me away from him when I needed him the most.” She cocked her head. “And then with the forced undressing and the hands where your hands should never, ever be again.”

Angel didn’t even bother to look apologetic. “I had to know.”

“Had to know what?” She shrugged demonstratively. “What? Yeah, okay. Big secret. Spike bit me. He bit me, and it was amazing. So, is that it? The big ‘it’ you needed to know? He bit me. You wanna blame what I’m feeling for him based on the bite? Go ahead. It doesn’t change that—”

Giles cleared his throat and hazarded a step forward. “Buffy, there’s something you should know.”

She twisted and glared at him. “Was I not clear about the beating of your ass?”

“It’s about the bite.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.”

Angel coughed. There was something in his eyes that she did not like at all. “Spike claimed you, Buffy. He claimed you when he bit you.”

She blinked. Okay. Weird way of putting it, but it sounded right. He’d bitten her, and he’d become a part of her. That much was a given. So Spike claimed her. The big? Still not seeing it. “Spike whated me?”

“Claimed,” Giles said softly. “It’s an ancient ritual practiced among vampires.”

Buffy frowned. “Ritual? No. No. There was no ritual. It—”

“It’s more a ritual in what it does rather than how it’s performed,” he clarified, holding up a hand. “And…I don’t believe that Spike…that is, Angel has provided reasonable evidence that Spike wasn’t aware of what he was doing when he claimed you. We believe he was rather…”

“Oblivious?” Angel ventured, earning a sharp kick to the sore spot on his throat. The place that Spike told her had met the pointy end of a stake the night he’d rescued her. “Buffy—”

Buffy glared at him. “Did I give you permission to talk? Or…exist, for that matter?”

“Last I checked—”

Giles exhaled slowly. “Buffy…I think it’s best if you s-sit down. There is much to tell you…about claims. A-and how it relates to your…situation with Spike.”

“My situation? The situation wherein he’s my boyfriend?” She threw her arms up in disgust. “Look, I knew both of you would massively wig over the Spike thing. And Giles, I can see where you come from a whole lot easier than I can Angel. Angel, who actively tried to make me very dead last year.”

The vampire under her foot wiggled angrily at that. “That wasn’t—”

“If you say that wasn’t you, I’m going to—”

“Oh, let me guess. Make another empty threat?”

Buffy dug her heel deeper into Angel’s throat, her eyes flashing dangerously. “You wanna test how empty my threats are? You nearly got me killed. You used my boyfriend to nearly get me killed. Oh, and then you tore me away from my boyfriend, undressed me, felt me up, and have the nerve to act like I’m overreacting?”

“Stop calling him your boyfriend!”

“That’s enough!” Giles practically shouted, holding up a hand. “Angel, need I remind you that you have already overstayed your invitation by, well, truthfully I stopped counting. Suffice to say, you are only here because I continue to allow it.”

“You need me to—”

“Guys!” Buffy rolled her eyes and released her hold on Angel. “Okay, so this claim thing. I suppose it affects how I’ve been feeling about Spike. All my emotions are fabricated through some mystical energy force that would otherwise not exist if he hadn’t bit me. Is that the song and dance you two have cooked up? And please, spare me no details.”

Giles and Angel—the latter of whom was rubbing his neck—exchanged an uneasy glance.

Buffy perked her brows. “Hit the nail right on the head, or is my aim a little off?”

“I—umm.” Giles cleared his throat again and slid his glasses into the waiting hem of his shirt. “No, not exactly. Among other things…a claim cannot fabricate feelings. Rather…why don’t I start at the beginning?” He released a deep breath. “I do think it best if…if you sit down, Buffy.”

From the look on his face, he was serious. Very serious. Buffy felt herself nod absently, only partially registering how hard her heart was pounding. The fog around her head was beginning to part, and all at once, it felt that the world around her was collapsing. They were going to tell her. They were going to explain everything. The mysterious draw, the stomach aches, the aversion to all things man-shaped. A nervous rush raced down her spine.

They were going to tell her. They were going to tell her everything.

“Okay,” she said slowly, hoisting herself onto the checkout counter. “So, with the talkage. What’s this claimy thing?”

Giles offered a weak smile. “As I said…an ancient ritual performed among vampires. When a vampire selects a suitable…mate. One they feel they want to be with for…well, eternity. It’s not done often anymore…and Angel seems to believe that Spike would not know h-how to claim.”

Buffy frowned. “And yet he did?”

“Claiming is an instinct, along with being a ritual,” Angel said, his voice a little raspy, his hand rubbing his throat. “If Spike was close to being a complete demon…like if, oh say, alcohol had worn down his lack of sensibility—what little he has—then the demon might have recognized you as someone…anyway, when he bit you, he said something, right?” He took an amazingly condescending step forward, narrowing his eyes. “Something along the lines of, ‘mine,’ perhaps?”

She froze. It wasn’t as though she’d given that moment a lot of thought, but on occasion, her mind was known for wandering. That morning had been the catalyst for many wayward thoughts. And since the birth of the plan, she’d been thinking about the long-term thing with Spike more and more…which, naturally, made her think of the past they’d shared. “Uhhh…”

“That’s the ritual.” Angel nodded. “It’s a simple word.”

“Not very…ritual-y.”

“No. And Buffy, it’s only valid if you acknowledge the demon’s claim.” The vampire took a step forward, his eyes boring into hers. “If you say, ‘yours,’ or ‘yes,’ or anything else that would affirm that you belong to the demon.”

“Oh.”

“If you didn’t, the claim’s not complete. It’ll wear off.” Angel glanced to Giles, then back again. “You just need to not see Spike anymore.”

Buffy blinked. Hard. “Excuse me?”

“I mean—”

“No, I know what you mean. And what? Why would I stop seeing Spike? I—he’s my…he’s my something. My boyfriend, my…claim-person. Or whatever.” She pointed at Giles, who stiffened. “And he said—”

“Buffy, if you go back to being around him, the temptation to acknowledge the claim will only get—”

She rolled her eyes, irritation surging. “Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Well—”

“I said yes, okay? I accepted his…his claim, or whatever.” When she found herself on the receiving end of two blank stares, she rolled her eyes again and held up a hand to count off her points. “Okay, firstly. One: I didn’t know what I was doing. I was scared and confused and…well, scared and confused pretty much summarizes what I was feeling nicely. Two: It’s none of your business. Three…” She frowned and drifted off in thought, then lowered her hand sheepishly. “Okay, so it’s only the two things. But Spike got a little demandy as far as my accepting went, and how the hell was I supposed to know what it means?” She paused and worried a lip between her teeth. “What does it mean, exactly?”

There was a long, burdensome silence.

“What?” Buffy fidgeted uncomfortably. “Look, I know…well…there will be no judging from the two of you. Angel, with the attempted murder and Giles! You drugged me and tried to feed me to an insane vampire! I’m not seeing much room to judge, here.”

“Buffy…” Giles sighed, his eyes fluttering shut. “I know I have been dishonest. And I’m sorry. You have no idea what putting…how much I hated the idea of putting you in danger. It ate at me. And if Spike hadn’t been there to stop it…I don’t think…I don’t know what I would have done. Suffice to say, the words, ‘Never forgive myself,’ don’t even begin to cover it.” He sighed again and glanced up, and the wealth of emotion that swam in his eyes made her anger slip a notch. Just one. He wasn’t getting off her crap list that easily. “However, I must say, that you haven’t exactly been forthcoming, either. The test was unavoidable, and if you think I enjoyed putting you through that…well, then perhaps you should consult Mr. Travers.”

“Travers?”

“Head of the Watcher’s Council. I did everything I could to cancel it. I-it’s an archaic, senseless exercise that does little more than…” Giles trailed off and inhaled sharply. “But then Angel suggested we use it…to test your…connection with Spike. To determine whether or not a claim was involved. And since you refused to come forward with anything about the bite that Spike gave you…or anything else, for that matter…you cornered me. I needed to know.”

“You didn’t tell me why!”

“If you had told me to begin…” Giles stopped again and shook his head. “I refuse to argue with you over this. What’s done is done. I made mistakes, but…somehow, I knew that you would be all right. That doesn’t excuse what I did. I know that. God, how I know that. I—”

“You accepted Spike’s claim?” Angel’s outburst was so sudden that even the dust froze in confusion. “How could you do that?”

“Wow,” Buffy appraised dryly, shifting. “Welcome back to the conversation.”

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“Ummm, no. Hence the spirit of the meeting, I thought.”

He stormed forward impatiently. “You’re linked, Buffy. You tied yourself to him. Forever. There is no going back. There is no…there is no divorce in claims. There is no way to reverse this.”

“Furthermore,” Giles added, sighing. “I believe that many of your…symptoms might be linked to a failure to…complete the claim.”

“My symptoms…” Oh God. Perhaps this was the mystical reason for everything. The spell that she and Spike had tried to blame their actions on. The huge, searing pain every time she was away from him? Every time they were separated for any amount of time? Not to mention, she was allergic to men who weren’t Spike. Simply sitting in the library with Giles and Angel was making her stomach curl, and only a small part of that could be attributed to her disgust at what they’d done to her. “Okay, yes, my symptoms. Is there a way to…get rid of those?”

“You have to—”

“Rupert!” Angel barked.

Giles rolled his eyes. “Oh, what? You know damn well that there’s nothing that can be done, and she doesn’t look to be in a position to want to undo anything in the first place! I’m bloody sick of you, and I think it’s well beyond time that we listen to Buffy.”

“It’s Spike—”

“Yes. You can repeat that as much as you want; it’s not going to change anything.” He smiled thinly. “And even so, with as much as I abhor Spike, I suddenly prefer his company to yours.”

Angel’s eyes widened. So did Buffy’s.

“What?” the vampire demanded.

“Buffy is right. He saved her life. He took care of her. Furthermore, we both saw how protective of her he was. Had Spike known about the Cruciamentum, he would have done everything in his power, short of and perhaps including taking my life, to prevent Buffy from getting hurt.” Giles tossed her a glance, and his smile turned warm at the look on her face. “And even then, I’m not sure. I believe that Spike, from what I saw, knows that hurting Buffy’s friends or Watcher would upset her. Would hurt her. He didn’t kill me and he very much wanted to. He didn’t kill me or you, for that matter, to get to Buffy. I’m not sure that he would have done anything to—”

“Rupert—”

“I’m not sure of anything. Were you actually watching him, Angel? Or did you only see what you wanted to see?” When he was met with nothing but silence, he smiled again and turned back to Buffy. “I’m not going to stop you from doing what you feel is right,” he said. “I can’t say I’m…thrilled. I’m not. I don’t know where I stand, exactly. But I do know that Spike cares for you. In some…way, he does. Furthermore, it’s a bit beyond our control, now. You accepted the claim.” A shadow fell across his face, as though he had the most difficulty wrestling with that concept. “You…accepted. You accepted the claim. There is nothing that can be done.”

Buffy swallowed hard, her eyes misting with tears. God, she’d missed this Giles so much. The Giles that was all with the support and the giving-of-fatherly-advice and not so much with the judgment. “I claim him back,” she whispered, “and the pain stops? We can…be with the normal?”

“As normal as…Buffy, I can’t say that I approve, but there’s really nothing—”

Something occurred to her from nowhere—something that he’d said before that she hadn’t thought to leap at in the middle of the confusion. Buffy released a short gasp and hopped off the counter, her eyes going wide. “Wait, wait,” she said, holding up a hand. “You…you said that claims can’t…they can’t make me feel things for him. Or…they can’t make Spike feel things for me?”

Giles glanced to Angel, then back to her. “No,” he said. “There have been a few examples in history…where vampires claimed other vampires, determined to force them into love. It always ends…badly. A claim does nothing but play on emotions and feelings that already exist.”

Buffy’s heart skipped a beat. She was too nervous to hope. “S-so…the things I feel for Spike…that’s real?”

Another long pause. “Yes.”

“A-and what Spike feels for me? That’s real, too?”

The look on Giles’s face told her everything she needed to know; by the time he nodded and whispered his affirmation, she was on the verge of collapse. All of the worries that she had focused on—all the thoughts of spells and vengeful exes and a broken heart—fell before Truth, and she found herself possessed by the fiercest wave of happiness that she’d ever known. It was real. It was all real. The way Spike looked at her. The way he held her hand. The way he kissed her. The way he loved her body with his own. The way he bantered with her and held her. The way he cared for her. All of it was real. He wouldn’t leave her. There was no spell. There had never been a spell. Spike had linked them together with his bite, and he would never leave her.

Buffy couldn’t help it; she burst into tears. Happy tears. Tears that liberated, rather than burdened. She felt the weight of the world roll off her shoulders, and there was nothing to do but cry. She loved him, and she could have him, now. There was no need for a plan or distancing or anything anymore. She could just have Spike. She wasn’t that girl.

Only she had to tie them together. She had to complete it. She had to claim him back.

“Buffy?” Giles whispered, taking a cautious step toward her. “Are you all right?”

She fought the urge to laugh. To cackle with happiness. The sensation was so foreign, so welcome, that she didn’t know how to express it. She was caught between laughter and tears, and it was wonderful.

“Tell me,” she said, wiping her shining eyes. “Tell me how to do it. Tell me how to claim him. Tell me how to make it final.”

There would be no more hiding. She loved him. There was no reason to hide.

Not anymore.

About thirty minutes after her meeting with Giles and Angel, Buffy knew that there was no way she’d be able to wait until nightfall to see Spike. Not when she was bursting with this much happiness; not when all her fears for their once-uncertain future had been cast aside. She felt that she’d been waiting lifetimes for this—for some confirmation that her heart was secure, and now that she knew that it was real, the thought of waiting, even a matter of hours, was agonizing.

The night held a bizarre mixture of anticipation and anxiety. She didn’t know how she was going to tell him—how to explain that the night he’d kidnapped her, he’d also bitten her thigh and that she had decided to not tell him. At first, yes, her decision had been well-founded. Spike was supposed to have left town and never return, and the bite, other than being literally orgasmic to touch, was nothing more than a blemish. She hadn’t known. It had been something that was hers. Only hers. And by the time that she realized that he wasn’t going away—that he would eventually find out—it had been too late.

Now she had to tell him. She had to tell him that he’d claimed her. That there was no spell. That the pull between them had nothing to do with Drusilla. That the reason they yearned for each other was because of an incomplete claim, and once she made everything right, there would be no more aching. No more nausea. There would be nothing but the simplicity of being together, and all the bad would be cashed in for good. What they’d earn in pleasure would completely trump everything they’d experienced in pain.

Pain like the familiar, stabbing cramp in her stomach. Pain that wasn’t hers.

Buffy frowned and sat up with a jolt that had the students around her jumping in surprise. It rushed through her fast—so fast that she found herself clutching the edges of the desk as the first waves crashed over her overly-excited nerves. It had been so long since she’d suffered the pangs of separation that she barely remembered what they felt like.

Spike. Spike was in pain, and she felt it because they were connected. Because of the claim. He was in pain, and he needed her. And she wasn’t about to waste time in some boring class when he needed her.

It didn’t take much to sneak away. She fed her teacher some overused excuse, and was dismissed from class without incident. Mrs. Worthington was used to her excuses, after all, and like many teachers, to Snyder’s dismay, had long since ceased the campaign to keep Buffy in class. It always proved fruitless; Buffy had a way of making herself very much elsewhere when she put her mind to it.

“Do I even need to pretend that you’ll be back?” the old woman asked tiredly. “Or are we past this?”

Buffy smiled guiltily and shrugged. “I think we’re way past, Mrs. W. But I’ll have—”

“Mr. Giles write you a note?”

She nodded, the smile remaining. “Uh-huh.”

“I’ll wait with baited breath. See you tomorrow.”

Okay, so sneaking out wasn’t as much fun when the teachers didn’t object. Oh well. Nothing much lost. At least she didn’t need to look over her shoulder.

Besides, Spike needed her. It had barely been twelve hours, and he was suffering the pangs of separation. She didn’t know why the leash kept getting shorter, but it did. Perhaps it was because he’d been at her side faithfully for nearly two days as she got better. Perhaps the longer they were together, the shorter they could be apart.

It didn’t matter. It would be over tonight.

There would be no more pain.

Buffy pursed her lips and dropped her backpack the second the door behind her slammed shut. She jumped in spite of herself, then frowned and huffed a small grumble. Stupid crypt doors. They really had a way of ruining the element of surprise.

Not that surprising Spike was really what she was going for, but it was an added bonus.

Only, at first glance, the crypt was empty. She’d only been here twice before—the night that he had stumbled across her in the cemetery and they’d ended up with the wild monkey love on the floor, and then four nights ago. When he’d brought her here and they’d made love in the rocker and added an amendment to the plan.

Sometime over the weekend, Spike had told her how excited he was that he’d found himself a place at all. And though she couldn’t see getting wiggy and excited over a crypt, he was strangely proud of it. Something about having a place of his own for the first time…ever. A place he’d picked. And while she wouldn’t choose it over a night at the Waldorf-Astoria, she couldn’t deny that the crypt had a strangely homey feel.

Maybe that was just because she knew it belonged to Spike.

To be fair, he’d actually done a lot to make it homey. The floors were covered with rugs. There were a few scattered pieces of furniture and a television with admittedly crappy reception, though he was talking about getting a DVD player or something in the near future.

“Spike?” she asked softly. He was nowhere in sight. “Spike…it’s me.”

Well, that was lame. Who else would it be?

He must be downstairs. And considering that the sun was hanging high in the sky, he was likely sleeping.

And aching. He was aching because of her.

Buffy sighed and walked over to the trapdoor that led to the lower level. “Well,” she said dryly, wincing at the metallic clank that bounced off the walls. “If that doesn’t wake the dead, I don’t know what will.”

She didn’t know whether to be amused or surprised to find Spike sound asleep. Very naked and very asleep. He was gorgeous when he slept. Well, he couldn’t be anything but gorgeous if he tried. Spike could juggle fish entrails; it didn’t matter. He was a work of art.

A work of art that was currently whimpering and holding his stomach. Buffy sucked in a deep breath, drawing her shirt over her head as she kicked her shoes off. He was in pain because of her. Because of her stupidity and her unwillingness to listen to Spike when he assured her that what he was feeling was real. That he truly cared for her, and wouldn’t leave her when the spell was over.

Only there was no spell. There had never been a spell. She was in love with Spike because she was in love with Spike. And he…well, he certainly felt for her. And she was his; she was his, and he’d be hers before the night was over. They’d belong to each other. And all the other things, like her sacred duty, his blood-drinking habit, and the ongoing battle between good and evil could take a much needed break from being number-one on her priorities.

Well, okay, so she hadn’t been active slay-girl since Spike barreled into her life. Her priorities had been a little askew over the past few weeks. And the world hadn’t ended and it didn’t look like it was going to anytime soon. It wouldn’t hurt anything if she took another couple days off.

Buffy worried a lip between her teeth and cast her eyes heavenward. Please? At least a few hours?

Oh well. If there was a big evil to fight, she was certain that she could convince Spike to help her out. The sooner the big evil was defeated, the sooner they could race each other back to bed.

The thought filled her insides with warmth. They could do those things. She could fight evil, slay demons, and Spike would be at her side. And at the end of the day, they could go back to his place and do the coupley thing. Or to her place. Or maybe they could rent a hotel room somewhere. It didn’t matter; all that mattered was that there was no more hiding. No more ignoring her lusty feelings—or trying to—and no more worrying about the fate of her heart.

Buffy sucked in a breath and turned her hands to the clasp on her jeans, then hesitated. If she got naked, he’d want to make sure she got off, too, and she wasn’t here for that. No matter that the mark throbbed. No matter that she ached for his touch there like nothing else. She wasn’t here for her needs. Not now. She’d felt Spike’s pain and she wanted to ease it. She wanted to comfort him the way he’d comforted her. She wanted to repay everything he’d given her. The wealth of what he’d given her.

Thus she approached the bed, dressed only in her jeans. She felt strange but empowered. Making decisions like this, on some level, made them equals. It was something that Spike had been trying to make her see for a while now; she was only now catching up with him.

He twitched violently as she approached the bed, holding his stomach. Her insides ached with his pain. There was no reason for pain. She would erase it, and there would no longer be any pain between them. No pain. She’d paid her pound of flesh for the colossal wrongness that was slayer-falling-for-vampire, and there was nothing standing between them anymore.

Spike whimpered again, his head jerking. “Buffy—”

“Shhh.” She sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over, running her fingers through his hair. She was always surprised at how soft his hair was. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

“Buffy…”

She brushed a kiss across his chest. “Sleepyhead,” she murmured affectionately. Then she turned and climbed to her knees, casting her legs astride his waist. “Semi-naked girlfriend here. You really don’t wanna miss out.” A tender smile flitted across her face, and she leaned forward until her breasts were pressed to his chest. “It’s okay,” she murmured, peppering his throat and chin with small, soft kisses. “It’s okay.”

“Buffy?” Spike blinked awake slowly, then moaned and cast his head back. “Oh, Christ. I thought I was dreaming.”

She giggled. God, this feeling was addictive. “You dream of me often?”

“Every sodding night,” he murmured, thrusting his pelvis upward. “I was…something was wrong.”

“Everything’s okay now.”

“What’re you doing here, pet?”

Buffy giggled and kissed his nipple, her right hand sliding down his abdomen. “Don’t you want me here?”

Spike whimpered again. “I never want you anywhere else. Oh, fuck, touch me.”

She arched a brow. “You want me to touch you,” she echoed, sliding down his body slowly. A kittenish grin stretched her lips, her hand curling around his cock. “Like this, huh?”

“Jus’ like that.”

“I’m gonna try this again.” Her grin widened and she licked a long path from the base of his erection to the tip. “I wanna make you feel good.”

“You do make me feel good, baby.” Spike sucked in another moan when she wrapped her lips around his head and suckled tenderly. “God, your tongue.” Her eyes floated up the lean expanse of his body, and she smiled, dropping her hands to cup his balls. “Bleeding hell, Buffy…”

“Your skin tastes good.”

Spike squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered again. “You’re killing me,” he panted, thrusting deeper into her mouth. “I needed you.”

“I know,” she whispered, dotting kisses along the underside of his length. “I felt you, and so I came.”

“You…you felt me?”

“Uh huh.” She dipped her head lower, grinning as she wrapped her lips around his sac, her right hand curling around his cock and pumping him slowly. “I felt you. I skipped school. I came. You were all sleepy and cute and naked.”

“I am…not…cute,” he ground out. “Buffy, please.”

“Please what?”

“Need you…your mouth around my…” She grinned and released his balls with a parting lick, taking his cock between her lips once more. “Oh, fuck yeah. God, what you do to me.”

“What do I do to you?” she asked. She swept her tongue along his sensitive head, and her grin broadened at his answering moan. She loved this. She loved the feminine empowerment. The wealth of what he’d given her simply by helping her embrace her womanhood. The sexual being buried beneath layers of strength. The woman within who wanted love and pleasure to counteract the blood and violence that came with her vocation.

“You’re—oh God, jus’ like that, pet.” Spike purred, his fingers threading through her hair, his hips swirling to find a steady rhythm. “Your mouth is so hot. So bleeding perfect. Ahh…”

“Not really.”

“Yes, really. God, Buffy…”

She smiled and released him, a womanly vibe rippling down her spine when he shrilled a gasp and sat up, wide-eyed.

“Oh, God, please!” he cried, and the desperation in his voice made her shiver in all the right places. The idea that she had any sort of power over him made her weak with desire. Even when she’d been with Angel and they’d had the whole star-crossed thing going, she hadn’t thought of herself as anything special. She wasn’t the sort of girl that men fell in love with. She always saw herself as the way she’d been treated at Hemery—cute, blonde, bubbly, with nothing going on upstairs. With Angel, things had been soft and sweet and safe…well, up until the killing of her friends began. And though he’d never really given her a reason to think so, she’d always felt that the basis of his attraction to her was rooted in her slayage. If she hadn’t been the Slayer, he would never have wafted into her life.

Granted, the same could be said about Spike. But he’d made it very clear, especially considering her recent bout as a non-superhuman-human, that her powers meant nothing to him in the long run. The only thing that said powers had been instrumental in was bringing them together. And yes, while the idea of getting to wrassle it out with Spike every now and then made her tingle in a very good way, she was much happier knowing that he liked her for her.

Something, evidently, that wasn’t entirely odd. As Giles had told her in his explanation of humans who find themselves claimed by vampires, history had known several exceptions to the vampires-eat-humans law in the form of vamps who fell in love with humans.

“Buffy, please,” Spike begged, wrapping his hand around his cock. “I need you. I need you so bloody badly.”

“I wanna try something.”

He paused and arched a brow, his shoulders rolling back and his eyes flashing with interest. “Something new?”

“Something I read…” She broke his gaze and blushed furiously. “Something I read…”

Spike studied her for a long beat, arching a brow. “Have you been reading dirty magazines?”

“One of Xander’s.”

He fought off a grin. “Xander jus’ loaned you his collection, pet?”

“As if! I found it in his locker.” Her blush deepened. “I-I…I just don’t want you…I want to learn things to…with you. I don’t want to…bore you.”

Everything stopped. The pants that heaved through his chest. The needful strokes he gave his cock. The silence that fell around them was deafening. A few long seconds passed before she summoned the courage to look up. She swallowed a gasp when she met Spike’s eyes. He was staring at her with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

Buffy shifted nervously. She felt more than out of place; her mouth perched over his cock, his eyes burning into hers. “Did I say something wrong?”

“In a million years, Buffy, you could never bore me.”

Oh God. Swoonage.

Though, when they hit their million-year anniversary, she was so going to call him on that.

“A million years, huh?” Buffy grinned and dipped her mouth again, suckling at the head of his erection. “How about two?”

“Oh, Buffy…”

She giggled and licked him again. “Is that a yes?”

“For-sodding-ever. I’m yours for eternity.”

God, she loved hearing that and knowing it. Believing it. Not having it tagged with a gut-wrenching fear that he was going to leave her.

“I wanna try this,” she murmured, giving his head one last lick before she moved to sit up. “I-I’ve heard that…some guys like…putting their…umm, things.” She tore her gaze from his cock, but the only other place to look was his eyes, and that was so not a go. “Ummm. Between my…uhhh…” She flushed and tried to smile, cupping her breasts demonstratively. “My…”

Spike arched a brow. “Are you askin’ me if I wanna fuck your titties?”

“Well, not like that, you perv! Only…” She ducked bashfully. “Yes, that. But…less with the…okay, just say it. I’m a crazy woman and—”

“Buffy…” He smiled tenderly and sat up, cupping her cheek. “Come here…”

She pouted. “I like it here,” she said, her mouth dropping to lap a wet path up his cock again. “And I wanna try my thing.”

“Let me fuck your titties?” he purred, his brows waggling.

“If you have to say it like that.”

“I think I do.”

Buffy flashed him a smirk and sat up, perching his cock between her breasts. “Okay,” she said nervously. “What now?”

“Jus’ hold still, baby,” he murmured, a catlike purr rumbling through his body. “I’ll do all the work.”

“I don’t want you to work.”

“Trust me…” Spike rumbled, beginning to thrust his hips again. “Ohhh, yeah. Jus’ like that.”

It was admittedly a strange sensation, but the look on his face quickly drowned out any of her numbered misgivings. The idea that she could bring anyone such pleasure simply by offering her body was more than a little intimidating. She shuddered a sigh and tried to ignore her screaming nerves and the butterflies that liked to live in her stomach whenever she allowed her feminine side to overpower the part of her that was, in many ways, still the quivering virgin. When she attempted to do something sexually new and bold.

“I can feel your heart beating,” he murmured, reaching down to tug at her nipples. “God, you don’ know what you do to me. Watching my dick move between—”

“You’re making me blush,” she protested softly, biting back a moan.

“I like it when you blush.” Spike gasped and threw his head back. “Lick me, pet. Need your tongue.”

If her skin grew any hotter, she’d start melting in the literal sense. Rather, she nodded and licked at his velvety tip with every thrust of his hips.

“You’re so perfect,” he moaned. “So bloody perfect.”

“Am not,” she retorted, lapping at his head.

“Don’…argue…with me.”

“You really like this?” It came out sharper than she’d intended, and when he narrowed his eyes in question, she ducked her head and fought the urge to shrink back. “I mean…you’re not just humoring me? I wanted to…and I know…I’m sorry my boobs aren’t…well, bigger. I…the…” Okay, he was looking at her like she was insane. Again. “I’ll just…look for a hole in the ground that hasn’t swallowed anything recently.”

Spike sat up immediately and cupped her face again. “Don’ be ridiculous,” he murmured, kissing her mouth sweetly. “When I say you’re perfect, woman, I mean it.”

“You’re—”

“Absolutely mad for you, an’ if you don’ know that by now…” He kissed her again and smiled. “Get up here.”

Buffy jerked back and shook her head, her hand returning to his erection. “I want…this is for you. Not me.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.” She smiled and, before he could say another word, engulfed his cock with her mouth once more. Spike moaned and flopped back to the mattress, thrusting his hips upward. She took him in as far as she could, until his head brushed against the back of her throat. She hadn’t tried this since the night his demon had come loose and forced her mouth around him—hadn’t tried taking him in as deep. And when the urge to gag surfaced, she paused and breathed.

Spike blinked and looked up. “Buffy? What’s…oh—”

She inhaled sharply and swallowed around him, earning a sharp moan and a swift jerk of his hips. He babbled a quick apology as his head collapsed against the mattress again, but his words lost coherency fast.

Confidence building, she slid her lips up his length coyly and grinned. “I take it you like that,” she said, licking at his slit.

“Oh Christ.”

“More?”

“Slayer—”

She sucked him as far in as she could and swallowed around him again. And that was it. Spike barked a quick warning that she didn’t understand until the next second, when he jerked and came, spilling himself deep into her throat. Buffy fought the urge to balk in shock; rather, she did what came naturally and drank down. Spike whimpered helplessly and curled his fingers in her hair.

“Buffy…oh God, Buffy…” His cock slid out of her mouth, and the next thing she knew, he had dragged her up the expanse of his body and was mauling her lips with worshipful, loving kisses. “You’re amazing,” he murmured, his mouth whispering against hers. “So bloody amazing.”

“I—”

“If you say you’re not, I’m gonna rip your arms off.” Buffy paused and pulled back, arching a brow. Spike shrugged and offered a sheepish smile. “Well, no. I like your arms.”

“You like my other stuff, too.”

Spike’s eyes dropped, widening as he appraised her heaving chest. His smile stretched into a leer; he palmed her breasts with near reverence, rolling her nipples between his fingers. “I love your other stuff.” He brushed his lips against hers again, then tugged her down so that she was curled into his side. “You came for me.”

“Well, if you wanna get technical…”

He grinned and barked a laugh. “Dirty!”

Buffy flushed and sank into the mattress. “You’re a bad influence.”

“The baddest.” He ran his fingers down her arm, his hand settling on the waistband of her jeans. “I think you’re overdressed.”

“I told you. This was about you. Not me.”

“I’ve had mine.” He hooked his fingers through one of her belt-loops and dragged her over. His lips found hers again before breaking away to shower her throat with soft, sweet kisses. “Lemme give you yours.”

“Nuh uh. You’re sleepy.”

“Am not.”

“You are so.” Buffy giggled, then blushed at the way his eyes sparkled at her mirth. “You’re all post-coital with the sleepy.”

“Like I’ll bloody let that get in the way.” He dipped his head, wrapping his lips around her nipple. “Buffy, lemme—”

“Go sleepy.”

“No—”

“Spike…” She smiled tenderly and took his face into her hands, bringing his mouth down to hers. “You stayed awake for me all weekend so that you could provide everything or anything I needed, right down to a Kleenex. Please get some rest. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

God, the taste of his kisses never ceased to amaze her. The way his tongue stroked hers, the way his lips moved against her lips, the way he whimpered. The way he held nothing back. She tasted everything in his kiss.

“You promise?” Spike panted when they pulled apart. “You’ll be here?”

“I’ll be here.”

“An’ you’ll tell me why you broke the rules?”

“To the plan?” Buffy shrugged and settled against him. “What can I say? Rules are made to be broken.”

Spike looked at her for a minute, then shrugged and wrapped his arms around her. “Gotta say, pet,” he murmured, nuzzling her shoulder, closing his eyes. “Whatever spell that you’re li’l witch friend cast on you, she has my approval.”

Buffy smiled weakly. “No spell.”

There were no words to emphasize how important it was that he know that.

“Mhmmm.” He kissed her shoulder. “’Night…sweetheart.”

Of all his pet names for her, that was definitely her favorite. Well, one of her favorites. With Spike, she had many favorites. Like watching him fall asleep. That wasn’t a pet name, but it was still a Spike-related favorite. And it didn’t take long. A few minutes of quiet, and he was deep in slumber again.

He was asleep in her arms. There was still so much to tell him. So much. But she wanted this for him. She just wanted to hold him right now. The rest could wait. He wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t going anywhere, and neither was she.

Buffy smiled tenderly and brushed her lips against his brow. “I love you,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut.

Just as his flew open.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. She’d been asleep for a little over an hour; every time he tried to convince himself that he should heed her advice—especially since she’d turned down a shag so that he could catch up on the rest he’d lost in worrying over her these past few days—her words floated back into his mind and rendered him sleepless.

She loved him. Buffy loved him.

God, was it even possible? He’d never thought it possible. Her love was something precious and fragile—something no man or demon deserved. The last time she’d given her love to someone, her life had been gutted, and she’d lost everything. Her friends. Her Watcher. Her mother. Her home. She’d lost any remnants of her childhood in her self-imposed exile in Los Angeles. Every shred of innocence she’d ever possessed had been contaminated, and all because she lost her heart to the enemy.

To a vampire.

Buffy was in his bed, curled into his side, and she’d whispered that she loved him. Buffy loved him.

It had been a pipe dream. A hope that he hadn’t even attempted to entertain. He’d realized how he felt over the weekend, and even then, it hadn’t been much of a revelation. The feelings stirring in his gut had been with him, it seemed, forever. Long before he found Dru snogging the Chaos Demon on that bloody park bench. These feelings were the reason that Dru had left him in the first place. And they had crept up on him so slowly that he hadn’t even realized he was in love until her life was in danger.

His love for her had slowly eaten away at his monstrosity, and he was too lost to care. He was with her. Something had brought her to him—the sodding spell, the whatever that had them lusting after each other. He didn’t know. Frankly, he didn’t care. He knew himself when he loved; after all, he’d spent most of his life crawling over hot ashes for one female or another. There was the misery that had been Cecily. Then it was Dru. Dru and the pathway to salvation. The pathway to Buffy.

But Buffy had given him something that no one ever had. For years, he’d fooled himself into thinking that Dru’s little sighs and her dance-around-words and her sodding riddles and mind games meant that she loved him. She’d played with the sentiment, sure, but she never said it. And he was becoming more and more convinced that her affection, particularly in their last few years together, had been more of a display of gratitude-wrapped-in-dependency.

Once he would have cared. He didn’t now.

Buffy loved him. God, Buffy loved him.

And he’d done absolute rot to earn it. He’d kidnapped her, forced his way into her body, stalked her, and abused her. Sure, saving her life earned him a few bonus points, but it in no way made up for everything he’d taken from her. Everything he could never repay.

Spike had figured, once he’d realized his love for Buffy, that he’d be fortunate if it didn’t dawn on her what an unworthy wanker he was, once the spell was over. If she let him stay in her life as her boyfriend.

Her boyfriend.

But Buffy loved him. She loved him. She’d come to him when he was in pain. She’d caressed him. She’d worshipped his body with her hands and mouth because she wanted to. Because comforting him was important to her.

He’d never had that. Not once. Never had a woman he’d cared about tended to him when he needed tending. Dru’s idea of healing his ailments was a quick pat and a comment about how the stars were arguing with Miss Edith.

Buffy had come to him.

Buffy loved him.

Spike sucked in a deep breath, his eyes clouding with tears. Buffy loved him.

“You realize you’re mine, now,” he murmured, brushing a lock of hair from her face. “I’m never letting you go.” His eyes fell to the chain around her neck, and a smile itched at his lips. He’d given her a ring for her birthday. Nothing particularly special—ostensibly—but it was something of a family heirloom. Something he’d never trusted Dru with.

Spike snickered, his fingers running along the expanse of the chain until he found the ring. He’d always wondered why he could never give it to Dru. He’d tried to make himself a thousand times. She loved jewelry, after all. She loved anything that sparkled for her, but keeping her interested in anything for any measure of time was a chore. If he’d given it to her, she would have lost it or tossed it the second that she found something she liked better.

When Buffy awoke, he was going to tell her everything. Everything. How he felt, that he didn’t give a bloody sod if they were under a spell; nothing could make him feel differently. There was no spell on the sodding planet that could fabricate feelings like this. He’d tell her that he loved her, and he wanted her, and nothing was ever going to change that.

He’d never hurt her. Not again. Not if he could help it.

Only he wanted her so much that it was difficult to remember that he didn’t breathe. She’d tossed the plan for him. She’d come here and touched him in ways that definitely qualified as off-limits. And now she was in his bed, half-naked. There was no sodding way that he was going to walk away from this now.

Spike released a trembling sigh, his lips wrapping around one of her pert nipples, stroking her other breast. He loved the feel of her in his hand, how the small weight of her filled his palm. The softness of her skin beneath his touch did him in every time. She was so warm—so warm where he was cold. He could feel the reverberation of her heartbeat under his fingers. The delicious rush of her pulse made his skin hum to life.

The thoughts had been with him for weeks now. The way his demon growled and insisted that Buffy was his. He’d felt it the night that Buffy snogged Angel. Hell, he’d ripped the graveyard apart because he’d felt that his girl was with another bloke. And when he’d seen her later that night, it was because his girl was in pain. His girl was hurting. And his girl had needed him.

The thoughts had been there; now the thoughts were backed with knowledge. Buffy was his. Her warmth. Her softness. Her heart. Everything. She belonged to him. She belonged to him almost as much as he belonged to her.

“I love you, too.” Spike licked her nipple with a contented purr. The hand occupied with her other breast slowly slid down the taut stretch of her stomach. He circled her bellybutton with his index finger before settling on the clasp of her jeans. “An’ I’m fairly certain,” he murmured. “That I told you to wear nothin’ but skirts.”

To be fair, she’d likely intended to change before their routine patrol non-date—something that he felt should be upgraded to gratuitous-bouts-of-violence-complete-with-victory-shags, but he wasn’t about to suggest that without feeling her out first. And even though she had come to him—even though she had been the one to break the rules—he knew well enough to not assume that meant that she wouldn’t reconstruct the walls she’d broken down once she awoke. She’d only whispered that she loved him when she thought he was asleep. Perhaps she didn’t want him to know. Perhaps she was only saying it because she needed the words to know life. There was every chance that he had a ways to go before he convinced her that his feelings weren’t the product of some sodding spell.

There was every chance, but he wasn’t a quitter. He wasn’t about to give up. Buffy loved him.

A silly grin tickled his lips. “You smell so sweet,” he purred, brushing a kiss across her belly, then moving his mouth lower. He hooked his fingers around her belt loops, sitting up to drag them down her legs. “So bloody good.”

Buffy moaned and shifted, rolling completely onto her back, her legs parting further for him.

Spike arched a brow, his lips fighting a grin. “I think baby’s awake. You playin’ possum, sweetheart?”

“Uhhh…”

His grin stretched into a devilish smirk. He slid back up to her, slipping his arms under her thighs and lifting her clothed pussy to his mouth. Spike inhaled deeply, burying his face between her thighs. “Christ, pet,” he gasped reverently. “You make my mouth water.” He slipped his fingers under the elastic lining at the crotch of her panties, bunching the intrusive fabric aside and baring her sweet, pink flesh to his hungry eyes.

“You better wake up quick,” Spike observed, his head dipping and his tongue taking a much coveted lap up her slit. Buffy moaned and gasped a little, her pelvis arching upward. He grinned again, wrapping his lips around her clit. “Else this is only a li’l fun.”

Another long whimper tore at her lips and her thighs opened even wider.

“Faker,” he teased, pulling his head back to enjoy the view. This was perfect. There was nothing in the world that could rival this. His eyes slowly trailed to her pussy again and he licked his lips. “You li’l…”

Spike paused and frowned, cocking his head. “What…”

No. That wasn’t right. That wasn’t supposed to be there. It had to be a trick of light. He blinked rapidly and shook his head. Little good it did. When he opened his eyes, it was still there.

And he was transfixed. He couldn’t tear his gaze from her. From it. From the thing that didn’t belong. He kept expecting it to vanish, but it did not. And he couldn’t stop staring. His eyes were glued to the two puncture wounds that marred the otherwise flawless skin of her inner thigh.

A vampire’s bite.

“What the bleeding hell is that?”

Buffy jerked awake with a start, only to find a very gorgeous, very livid vampire perched between her thighs. He was staring at her like she was a stranger. Like she was someone he’d never seen before. She frowned and panicked for a second before realizing where he was—and what he was looking at it.

Oh God.

Her panic leapt off the charts. “Oh, God. Oh God. Spike. I-I can…I can explain. I’m so sorry. I—”

Spike snarled, his eyes glowing yellow, and Buffy shrank back when her heart leapt into her throat. Okay, so she’d known he’d take it bad. Very bad, even. After all, she’d been very much with the secretive. And the closer they’d become, the more she’d gone out of her way to make sure the mark remained hidden.

But yellow eyes and fangs? Oh, and ridges? Spike was having serious ridges. She hadn’t known he would take it that badly.

“When?” he snarled, running his hand over the bite. “When?”

Despite the gravity of the situation, she felt a rush of lust unlike anything she’d ever experienced. For weeks, she’d been craving his touch there. On her mark. Caressing her. Laving his territory with his mouth and tongue. Now, for the first time, his hand was over the place he’d marked her, and the sensation was orgasmic.

“Answer me, Buffy!” he growled, crawling forward and seizing her shoulders. “Was it the night you kissed him? Did you have him bloody mark you, too? Is that what made you toss your cookies? When? Answer me!”

Buffy blinked, stunned silent. “What?”

“When did you let him touch you?” He fisted a handful of her hair and craned her neck back. “When?!”

“Spike, you’re scaring me—”

His eyes glimmered and he flashed her some fang. “Oh baby, I haven’ even started.”

“Spike—”

“I gotta say, luv, if it was fangs you were lookin’ for, you shoulda told me.” He ran his tongue down one of his incisors and smirked nastily. “I’d’ve been bloody thrilled to accommodate your—”

Buffy blinked again, realization spreading cold through her veins. He thought…oh God, he thought that Angel had bitten her? He thought that?

It was awful, but her first instinct was to laugh. Hard.

“Spike,” she said, pulling carefully out of his grip. It was a chore, trying to keep her voice calm and mirth-free. She wanted so badly to guffaw like a mad woman. Like she’d ever let Angel bite her. Especially now. Was he insane? “You need to—”

“Least I could’ve done the job properly!” Spike continued furiously, spreading her legs further apart, running his finger across the mark again. And again, her insides flushed with heat. “You call that a sodding bite? I know poofters with stronger fangs!”

That was it. Buffy’s façade crumbled into loud, cackling laughter. The flash of confusion that stormed Spike’s eyes didn’t do much to help. She laughed until she couldn’t breathe, caught her breath, and then melted into giggles all over again. She tried to speak, but her words rode out on chuckles. The idea was just preposterous. Absolutely preposterous. And topped off with Spike unwittingly insulting his own fangs? This was so priceless, it deserved its own MasterCard commercial.

Spike’s confusion quickly gave way to angered hurt. “I’m glad you’re so bloody amused,” he growled, the ferocity in his voice doing little to mask his pain. “Pull one over on me?”

Buffy shook her head as her amusement calmed, pressing her lips together to wane off any other ill-timed chortles. “No. No. Spike, God no. I love you, you…git. I’m just…I’m sorry if I find this funny.”

At that, the fire in his gaze softened. “Did you just call me a git?”

“Hey! I don’t know what it means. Only that you use it as an insult, and right now I’m insulting you while making with the love declaration…and hey! You latch onto git but not the love thing?” Buffy scowled and slapped his arm. “I reiterate: big, big git!”

Spike exhaled slowly. “Slow down.”

“Me? I should slow down?! You’re the one that’s all with the conclusion-jumping, and I’m the one being told to chill?”

His eyes narrowed. “Buffy—”

“Like I would ever, ever let Angel bite me. Especially after you. Kissing him made me hurl in the incredibly gross, literal sense.” Buffy shuddered, then sighed and rolled her shoulders back, resignedly. Of course, though, there was no way for Spike to come to any other conclusion. Her nerves, no longer protected by amusement, were suddenly screaming. Screaming with his pain along with her anxiety. She sucked in a deep breath. There was no more hiding. She’d made her bed; it was time to face the music and dance.

Buffy groaned inwardly. Mixed metaphors, much?

“Spike…ummm…” She released a long, shuddering breath. “The bite…this?” She took his hand in hers and guided it back to the sacred place on her thigh, moaning when his fingertips brushed her tender flesh. “This is…yours.”

Spike froze. There was nothing for several long, agonizing seconds. He didn’t blink. Didn’t sigh. Didn’t move. His eyes just bore into hers, unreadable. Buffy swallowed hard but didn’t say a word. Her heart was pounding too hard to get her voice to work. He just stared at her.

When he finally spoke, the sound was so raw that her heart ached with regret. “What?” he demanded. Then paused, blinked, shook his head, and met her eyes again, incredulous. “What?”

“You…” Buffy sighed and cast her gaze downward. “It’s yours, Spike. The…poofter mark is yours.”

“Have you gone completely carrot-top?”

“Huh?”

There was a long pause. “I think I’d remember somethin’ as marvelous as biting you, pet.” His eyes narrowed. “An’ my fangs are not poofter-fangs!”

“Hey! Your words, not mine!”

“That’s not my—”

“Spike, trust me. I’d know if another vampire found his way between my legs and…” Buffy shook her head and sighed. “It was…Spike…it was the night you kidnapped me. You…when you came back, all drunk, you…were downtown man.” She shifted uncomfortably. “You bit me.”

Spike blinked. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No. You…I’ve seen you.” He shivered and sighed. “I’ve seen you…bloody well shagged you sideways. There was the crypt…an’ your room…an’ the Bronze an’…I’d remember seeing a bite mark.” He blinked again. “I’d…remember…”

Buffy sighed, her eyes falling shut. This was going to be harder than she thought. There was absolutely no way to calculate how deep learning of her deception would cut. She’d been incredibly thoughtless. Incredibly selfish. There was absolutely no way to tell him this without hurting him.

“I…I didn’t tell you,” she whispered.

“Yeah,” Spike drawled, disbelief giving way to anger again. “Gettin’ that.”

“I…” She swallowed hard and gestured emphatically as she searched for words. “You were…really frazzled that morning. A-and I didn’t want to…make it worse for you. You were guilt-tripping—”

“That was bloody weeks ago!”

“Yes! A-and after that, I told you to skedaddle and you so didn’t do that. And then there was the sex and the more distancing and by the time we came up with the confusing, yet at the time, seemingly-reasonable plan, I didn’t know how to tell you.” Buffy shivered and rubbed her arms. “It didn’t…after we came up with the plan, I didn’t…I should have told you, but so much time had passed and I didn’t…”

“I still can’t…I’ve seen you, Buffy. I’ve seen you naked—”

“Not really. I hid…that part. I made sure you didn’t see that. I didn’t want…” At his look, she dropped her shoulders and sniffled. “God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Spike. I didn’t mean to. I really…I’m not saying…I know I made a mistake. A huge, colossal mistake. I’m not trying to exonerate myself or anything. I know I screwed up. But I was gonna tell you tonight, I swear.”

Spike cocked his head, his eyes narrowing. “Were you, now?”

“Yes! I so totally was.”

“That’s bloody convenient for you, pet.” He cast a hand through his platinum locks, a long, humorless laugh tumbling through his lips. “How could you keep this from me?”

“Spike—”

“No. How could you keep this from me?” He broke off and shook his head again. “You are some piece of work, Summers. I bloody well—”

“Spike, before you yell at me and give me the scolding I so richly deserve—” She paused and held up a hand when he gave her a stern look. “I’m not being glib. I’m glib-free Buffy. I know I deserve it. I really, really deserve it. But…Angel—”

A low growl rumbled through Spike’s throat. “Now would be the wrong time to mention Angel, pet.”

“No. Let me…finish.” Buffy laughed nervously and tucked her hair behind her ear. Oh God. Please let me not have ruined everything. “Angel’s been asking me for a while now if you bit me. I didn’t tell him. I didn’t…it wasn’t any of his business. It was mine. It was the one part of you that I still had…well, until the plan where I pretty much had you all the time.”

There was no way Spike could withhold a grin at that. He rolled his shoulders and waggled his brows. And that was it. Buffy sighed, releasing some of her tension. Words could not describe how happy she was to see that brow-waggle. “Others might say that I had you all the time,” he retorted.

She flushed. “Yeah…my point being, when we were trying the stay-away-from-each-other bit, the bite mark was all I had of you. And…touching it…”

Spike’s brows perked and he glanced down with interest. “Touching it…?” he drawled curiously, running an experimental finger across the mark. His eyes sparkled when she moaned and rolled her head back, thrusting up against his hand. “Oohh,” he cooed, rubbing her with more intent. “Isn’t that neat?”

“Uhhhh…”

Spike chuckled. “Oh, baby. Do you have any bloody idea how long we played, not explorin’ this?” He ducked his head, wrapping his lips around one of her nipples, his fingers massaging the bite mark tenderly. A helpless whimper tore at her throat and she trembled in ecstasy. God, and she thought it’d been good when she’d rubbed the mark. Having Spike touch that spot? She’d be lucky if she didn’t die from an overdose of pleasure. “Guess I’ll jus’ have to make up for lost time.”

“Uhhh…that feels…”

He grinned around her breast. “Heavenly?”

“Ohhh…so…not mad?”

The way his chuckle reverberated against her skin successfully banished any lingering anxiety. “You kept this from me. But…with as much as it bloody boggles, I can see how…well, no, I can’t, but I can think of a few ways to work out my frustrations,” he purred. “Though I’m very angry, so it might take me a while.”

“Spike, there’s something…”

“Lay back, baby.”

“Wait. I need to—”

“If you love me, you’ll lay back.” He flashed a wicked, knee-weakening grin at that. It was a good thing she was already lying down, else she’d likely find something to trip over. “Oh, don’t think I didn’t hear that. Minx. Where do you get off, telling me you love me, an’ all?”

She reeled. He might as well have slapped her. “Spike—”

His fierceness only lasted a minute. Then his eyes flooded with adoration and the wicked leer on his face softened into the kindest, most loving smile she’d ever seen. He took her face in his hands and brushed a soft kiss across her lips. “I was s’posed to say it first,” he murmured, kissing the corner of her mouth. “An’ if you bloody well tell me it’s because of a sodding spell, I’m gonna—”

“It’s not a spell.”

Spike paused and blinked rapidly, falling back in surprise. “It’s not?” he replied, his voice trembling with hope. “You believe me, then? You know I love you? You know it’s not because of magic or—”

“I know.”

He smiled excitedly, rumbling in delight, though he couldn’t hide the confusion in his eyes. “I gotta say, luv, that was easier than I thought. An’ here I was, prepared to tie you up an’ torture you until you believed me. Granted, my idea of torture was gonna be a lot more like sexy fun, but—”

“Spike, there’s something else. Something that An…” She squeaked when his face fell to a frown again. “Ummm…that guy I used to date and Giles…they told me something this afternoon. Something that…kinda sorta explained why An—that guy I used to date used you to get me to rush into the very special make-Buffy-dead rite of passage.”

His eyes flashed angrily at the mere mention. “That—”

“Spike…when you bit me…you kinda…” She trailed off, suddenly nervous again. “Well, Giles used the word claimed me. Yeah. You claimed me.”

“I…” He paused, his brow furrowing, eyes wide with confusion. “I claimed…I bloody claimed you?”

“Yeah, a little.”

“I claimed…I don’ even sodding know how to…well, I looked it up once but I never…” He broke off and shook his head. “I claimed you. As in…I claimed you. I…Christ, Slayer, do you know what this means?”

She nodded perkily. “Uh huh. Giles and…that guy I used to date were all with the explainy. And I did some reading during class when I was supposed to be listening to the teacher. You claimed me, you got me to accept. It’s the reason we’ve been all with the…lusty goodness.”

“Because I claimed you.”

“Yeah. And all our feelings…they’re feelings that were already…there. Repressed feelings that…” She turned her eyes shyly to the stretch of mattress between them. “So, yeah, okay. The first time I saw you, I thought you were gorgeous with a body to die for and a killer accent…then you made that stupid ‘I’ll kill you on Saturday’ comment, but the lusty thoughts—”

Spike’s eyes swallowed her with awe. “Slayer…”

“S-so yes. Feelings…were there. Bad…very repressed…lusty feelings. A-and—”

“I wanted to shag you into the sodding ground the firs’ time I saw you.” He dived for her throat, sucking sweetly at her skin. “No harm in admittin’ it.”

“Spike…”

“I claimed you?” There was a giddy note in his tone now. He cupped her breasts and coaxed her back gently against the mattress. “I really claimed you?”

“Yeah…you did.”

“You’re mine?”

She smiled and stretched beneath him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Wholly and completely yours.”

The light that filled his eyes could move stars. “For how long?” he demanded throatily. “How long are you mine?”

“Pretty much ever.”

“Forever?”

She shrugged. “Claims work that way on people. A-and Giles said that your…being a little less with the shredding innocent people to bitty bitty bits is something you get from me. Kinda like I get the new and improved non-existent expiration date.”

Spike blinked. “An’ you’re okay with this? You really—”

“Spike?”

“Hmm?”

“You wanna talk or you wanna get with the wild monkey love?”

He grinned, his mouth nearing hers intently. “Neither,” he replied, sucking her lower lip between his teeth. “I still gotta punish you a bit.”

“Punish?”

“You’ve been a very bad girl. Keeping secrets from your Spike.” His grin widened. “So now…you get punishment.”

Buffy sat up—or rather, she tried to sit up. A very insistent hand shoved her back to the mattress. “A-and how exactly are we punishing?”

“You’re giving me…a taste.”

He kissed her hard before she could respond, then slid eagerly down her body, his mouth covering every inch of skin as he went.

Her nerves seared with heat. Oh yeah. This was definitely the sort of punishment a girl could go for.

The hint of her taste teased his fangs. His fingers trailed slowly down her stomach, following his mouth as he nibbled his way to her center. With every breath he took, the drunker he became. Buffy Summers: drug of choice. He had no idea how he’d managed to get here—to earn her warmth or her purity—but he was sure he’d move the heavens and the earth to secure his place. The delicious aroma of her arousal dizzied him with delight, and every time he inhaled, his insides trembled and the whole of him gave over to awe. And while he was still unsure about this claim business—especially how he could end up doing it when he was drunk on things other than the gorgeous blonde beneath him—he wasn’t about to question it. Not when she was the reward.

“So,” Spike drawled, making quick work of her panties to bury his face in her pussy, consequentially forgetting what he was about to say. He whimpered helplessly in time with her throaty moan, licking at her wet, silken skin. “Fuck, but you taste good.”

Buffy mewled and thrust wantonly against his face. “Ohhhh…”

“You can say that again,” he rumbled in agreement, flashing her a wicked smirk. “Do you have any sodding idea how long I’ve wanted to taste you?” His tongue slipped inside her and purred approvingly when she gasped and arched off the mattress again. “You taste so sweet.”

“Spike. Oh God!”

“Oh God?” he echoed, brows arching. “Already?”

“You…I…” She spread her legs wider, her hand falling to her bite mark. “Touch me here,” she pleaded. “Please. I need—”

“Baby likes to beg, does she?” Spike teased, leaving her slit with a parting lick, gave her clit a quick suck, then kissed his way to the bite mark that graced her gorgeous skin. On closer inspection, he had absolutely no idea why he would have thought the mark belonged to anyone but him. Or how, for that matter, he could have accused the fangs responsible of being anything but the epitome of manliness. Must have been the fleeting bout of jealous insanity.

“No…I don’t like…begging…” Buffy ran her foot down the cool expanse of his back, small, helpless whimpers tearing through her lips. “Please. I’ve…I’ve wanted…this…I…”

Spike glanced up curiously, sinking two fingers into her pussy. “You’ve wanted this?” he demanded eagerly. The idea that she could have fantasized about him at all made his blood sing. “You’ve wanted my mouth here?”

“Spike, please!”

The shrill in her voice only made him harder. An impassioned growl clawed at his throat and he rubbed his erection against the mattress. “You have any idea how hot it makes me, hearin’ you beg?”

“I’m not begging!”

Spike arched a brow. “You’re not?”

“No! And if you don’t start macking on that bite mark, I’m gonna—”

“So less with the begging an’ more with the threats?” He grinned, pumping his fingers into her hot, tight channel. He settled his thumb over her clit, his grin widening when her protest melted into another helpless whimper. He fastened his lips around her bite mark, purring sensually as he sucked her sensitive skin between his teeth.

“Oh my GOD!” A long, hoarse cry tore through her lips and she thrashed uncontrollably. Spike was so startled by the enthusiasm of her response that he jerked and released her, his fingers sinking deeper into her body. She wailed in protest the second his mouth abandoned her. “Ohh! Spike, please!”

Spike blinked and stared at her, his body humming to life in ways he’d never experienced. In ways he’d never thought to experience. She was vibrating around his fingers and her eyes were swallowing him whole. “Buffy…”

“Please!”

“Oh, baby…” He dipped his head again, laving the bite mark with his tongue. Immediately, Buffy’s cries of protest gave way to moans of pleasure. He had absolutely no idea a bite mark could create such ecstasy. The bite that had made him a vampire had never been a particularly enticing erogenous zone. Granted, Dru had never really paid much attention to the marks she gave him, so it could be that he’d just missed out all these years.

Or it could be that claim marks were completely different from other vampire marks. It had been so long since he gave the concept of claiming any thought; obviously, some research was in order. He wanted to know how he’d done it. How, when he was so drunk he very literally didn’t have a handle on what he was doing, he’d managed to perform an ancient and binding ritual. One that had tied his lifeline with Buffy’s forever.

“That feels…” Buffy whimpered, her eyes squeezing shut. “Oh God, Spike, that feels so…”

Spike ran his teeth along the mark and grinned, his fingers wrapped in her velvet warmth, the pad of his thumb massaging small circles into her clit. He could feel her tensing beneath his touch. Could feel her body tightening. She was so gorgeous. So bloody gorgeous. She was whimpering and moaning and thrusting up against him. She was a fiery nymph, a creature of pure light, and she was all his. He had a mouthful of sacred skin. Her skin. A mark that made her his.

“I love watching you,” Spike murmured, licking at the mark before leaving it to his eager fingers. “Love watchin’ you squirm an’ moan for me. Love knowing that I’m the one that does it to you. The only one.”

“Only…only…”

“Such a pretty little clit,” he purred, treating the pearl with a long lap of the tongue. He curled his right arm under her leg so that he could massage her mark, his other hand working her pussy. “I swear, Slayer, I’d dust a happy bloke if I could stay here forever.”

It was fascinating; watching her ivory skin flush under the influence of his compliment. “Spike…”

“I can feel you tightening, baby. Let it go.” He sucked at her clit with a long, contented purr. “I wanna taste you as you come.”

“Spike!”

“Gonna taste you.” He nipped at her affectionately, slipping his fingers from her silky flesh to pinch her clit as his tongue plunged deep inside her body. “Come for me. Come for me now.”

“Ohhh!” She tightened and exploded, drenching his mouth and filling the air with a piercing, euphoric scream that took the form of his name. He drank her greedily, his tongue bathing in her. He lapped at her until the tremors subsided and her breathing regulated. And the second that she blinked drowsily and looked up at him, he flashed a loving smile and mouthed the words, I love you.

Right before his fangs descended and dove for her inner thigh. He sliced open the mark and drank deep, and growled when she screamed in ecstasy and came again. He knew Heaven the second her blood hit his tongue. And even if he did manage to live forever, there was absolutely no way he’d forget the moment he first tasted her.

“Oh fuck,” Spike moaned, slipping his fangs from her skin. “Your blood. You…Oh, Buffy…”

“Get up here.” Buffy curled her arms under his shoulders and dragged him up her body. “Inside. I need you. Get inside me.”

“Happy to oblige, pet.” Spike took her face in his hands and kissed her as his cock sank into her warmth, moaning around her tongue. “Ahhh…”

“Unh…”

“Buffy…oh fuck, Buffy, oh my God.” When he blinked and looked down, her beautiful eyes were swimming in tears. His breath caught in his throat. Never before had anyone looked at him like that. Like he was a god among men. Like he was worth any more than the dust he came from. Than the alley that had known his rebirth. She gave him the world in her eyes. She looked at him, and he had purpose. He had purpose like he never had.

“You’re my song,” he whispered against her lips. “My gorgeous girl.”

“Ohhh…” She curled a leg around his waist, propelling his cock deeper within her body. “I…you’re…I love…oh, Spike.”

He grinned, suckling at her throat. “You love Spike, eh?”

Buffy nodded frantically and tugged his mouth up to hers. “Yes,” she whispered, wresting a kiss from his lips. “Yes. Yes.”

“Spike loves you back.” He kissed her again, then his brow collapsed to her shoulder as his thrusts grew harder. Her walls molded around him, suctioning, warming him until her heat threatened to sear his skin. She burned. She thrived. She hurt him so good that his heart wanted to pound and his long-dead lungs demanded air. And the pain was only outmatched by pleasure. Every plunge into her pussy was like diving blind off a cliff. Her warmth cushioned and embraced.

He felt it in every move. When her tears finally spilled down her cheeks and baptized him anew. There was love in every touch, and the difference made all the difference. He felt the love in her body just as he saw it in her eyes. The way she rocked and moved against him. The small little sighs she took with every thrust of his hips. Every stab of his cock inside her. He felt it in her blood. Heard it sing through her veins and reach for him every time he pulled from her. Her legs tightened around him, her slayer muscles squeezed, her pussy clenched, and he saw stars. He felt it; she was his. Entirely his. And nothing would ever change that.

Nothing.

Hours later, worn out, Spike crept an eye open as he felt her shift down near his feet. They’d collapsed into each other’s arms forty-five minutes earlier, panting and exhausted. He had absolutely no idea how much time had passed, or even what day it was, anymore. Had there even been life before Buffy came to his crypt this afternoon? He was sure his existence hadn’t started here, though for the shine in her eyes, he was certain that he couldn’t have made it as long as he had without her. Without the spark in her gaze and the smile on her lips.

Though, he was also drunk with pleasure and seconds away from passing out. There was every possibility that he was just sappier when he was sated and happy. He didn’t know. It’d been so long since he felt this way.

No. Nix that. He’d never felt this way. He’d felt variations. Shadows. Plays on how love was supposed to feel. He’d never had this, though. Buffy had given him a whole new bloody world.

“What’re you doin’ down there?” he murmured, attempting to summon the strength to kick at her insolently. And failing miserably. “Don’ tell me you’re—”

“I’m marking you,” she informed him, pressing wet kisses against his left inner thigh and wrapping her hand around his hardening cock. Stupid bloody thing had a mind of its own. “I wanna mark you.”

“Buffy, do you—”

“Yes. I know how.” She grinned and squeezed him, suckling sweetly on his sac for a few seconds before turning her attention to his thigh again. “And I want it here,” she said.

“There?”

“Yes.”

And before he could get another word out, Buffy had her teeth clamped deep into his skin. Spike roared and vamped and arched his hips off the mattress. Exhaustion vanished and energy soared. When she looked up, his blood was on her mouth.

It was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen.

“Mine,” she said, her eyes locking with his as her tongue licked her red-stained lips. “Mine.”

Spike nodded numbly. “Yours. Yours, Buffy. For-sodding-ever. Is that what I need to say? Sounds right an’ familiar. Sounds—”

There was no need for words. It ruptured through him—a jolt of lightening, a flash of realization, and he was made whole. The next second, realities merged and blended. Pain vanished and he was filled with calm. Pleasure filled his veins. He gasped and arched back again, pulling on her until she was curled in his arms. Until she was positionin>:g him at her opening and infusing him in bliss.

Her emerald eyes were drenched in love.

And he belonged to her.

There was absolutely no way that life could get better than this. Buffy stretched contentedly, gently running her fingers through Spike’s ruffled hair, enjoying the way his cool breath caressed her skin. His head was pillowed at her breast, his arms curled under her shoulders. The hard length of his cock was pressed against her hip, his right leg nestled between her thighs.

Buffy couldn’t remember ever being so happy. Not when Brent Hinkley asked her on her very first date when she was thirteen years old. Not when Tyler asked her to the Spring Fling the year that she was booted from Hemery. Not when Angel first kissed her. And, well, the long line of Angel-related dateage was really out of the running completely. She’d never been happy with Angel. Not really. Not when every step they took was overshadowed by the loom of impending disaster.

“I never wanna leave here,” she murmured, her fingers massaging his scalp affectionately.

“You’ll find no argument with me, pet,” Spike replied, his lips whispering a kiss at her breast. “Though I’d wager you won’t be happy with a hole in the ground.”

“I could adapt.”

He chuckled, and the vibrations against her chest felt so wonderful, she found herself melting further into the mattress. “I should prob’ly look into gettin’ a place for us,” he mused thoughtfully. “White bloody picket fence an’ everythin’.”

“Picket fences are dangerous,” Buffy objected.

“Bloody dangerous,” Spike agreed. “But useful, if you’re attacked on the way home.”

“If we move into a place of our own, how will the invite thing work?” she asked. “It’d be the home of a human and a vampire. Vampires can enter other vampire’s homes, but not people’s homes.” Her brow furrowed and she raised her head a bit, smiling when his warm eyes met hers. “I don’t want vamps getting into a place that we have. We’d never get any rest.”

Spike shrugged. “We’d never be bored, either.”

“Yeah, but we’d never get to sleep. Or…do other things that you like doing in bed.” Buffy grinned and trailed her hand down his body, gently running her nails across the small of his back. “I wouldn’t want to be caught off guard during a…crucial moment, you know?”

He shivered with pleasure under her touch. “See your point, luv.”

“I thought you might.”

“Come to think of it, there are certain vamps I’d wanna make bloody sure never got an invite.” Spike grinned, resting his cheek against her breast. “Angel, for instance, never gets on the guest list. I don’t care if—”

“Yeah. Like he’s done so much to earn an all-access-pass. Hello? Tried to kill me dead.”

“I still say we stake him through the heart.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Yeah. But then he’ll just come back. I sent him to Hell, remember? The Powers or whatever are determined to keep him undead.”

“So?” Spike’s shoulders rolled in what looked to be a halfhearted shrug. He tightened his arms around her and sighed. “We can still give the sodding Powers a run for their money.”

“That’s not very responsible of me.”

“Well, you’re tied to a very irresponsible vamp for life, pet. If fate allowed us to happen, they gotta make allowances for bad behavior.”

Buffy giggled, then giggled again when the corners of his mouth tugged upwards at the sound. She was mated to such a sap, but God, she was so happy she feared a spontaneous musical number. Never before had she just lain in someone’s arms, or had someone lay in hers. She’d never had the chance to cuddle. And from the way Spike’s arms kept tightening around her—from the way he kept crooning against her breast—she could tell, he was big with the cuddling.

As with the PDA’s. She had a feeling they were going to be one of those sickeningly cute couples that everyone hated. Kind of like Oz and Willow. There were times—especially up until Spike’s explosive return—when Oz and Willow were so…well, Oz and Willow that Buffy had had to refrain from throwing something at them for being so cute and happy when she was so miserable and alone. But she wasn’t miserable or alone anymore.

It was so strange. The day had been so strange. She’d seen Giles and Angel, she’d learned that all her worries about Spike leaving her were unfounded, she’d learned that she was the mate of a vampire and had even read up on how to perform the not-so-complicated ritual. Now, it was drawing near to early evening, and she was lying in her lover’s arms. There was no plan anymore. Her life was blissfully unplanned.

Well, except the whole Chosen One thing, but that was a given.

Best of all, Spike wasn’t going to leave her. He loved her. Buffy grinned and sank further into the mattress. Spike loved her, and he wasn’t going to leave. This was total happiness. This was soul-losing-happiness, only without the soul-losing part. And Spike had given it to her. Spike had given her everything.

“What are you grinnin’ about?”

Buffy blinked and met his dancing gaze. “The same thing you’re grinning about.”

“Am I squishin’ you?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes, Spike. I’m smiling like a lunatic because I’m fighting to breathe. Hello, super-strength, here.”

“A simple no would’ve worked just fine.”

“Yeah, but my way was fun because I answered your question and got to mock you.” She giggled. God, she’d never giggled so much in her life. Spike made her giggle. Who would have thought? “I like you right where you are.”

“You like me in other places, too, I’d hope.” He grinned and kissed her, slipping a hand between them to gently caress the bite mark on her thigh.

Mirth vanished instantly. Her nerves sang and her blood raced with heat. She couldn’t help the moan that slipped through her lips any more than she could keep herself from begging him just a little. After so long craving his touch on that sacred spot—dreaming about what it’d feel like to have him stroke her skin as he loved her body with his—getting what she wanted was intoxicating. She just couldn’t wait until she got the chance to play with the mark she’d given him to see if it bore the same properties.

It would be totally unfair if he didn’t get to experience this.

“So, tell me about this claim business,” Spike murmured, dropping a kiss across her nipple, his hand sliding off her thigh as he pulled his head from her breast to meet her gaze fully. Buffy couldn’t stop from mewling in complaint if she tried, and from the apologetic look on her vampire’s face, he hadn’t wanted to stop any more than she wanted him to. “Sorry, pet…I din’t mean to—”

“I know,” she whimpered. “I just…good touchies.”

“You’ll get your good touchies.” He kissed the pulse point of her throat and purred. “I promise. Jus’ think it might be easier to talk if I din’t do that.”

He was right, of course, but that didn’t convince her body that the mature thing to do was to not pout. Buffy sighed and shifted. “How is it that you don’t know about claims?”

Spike shrugged dismissively, though something significant flashed through his eyes. Something that begged exploration, but similarly implored to let the matter alone. Either way, she didn’t have to ask him to elaborate. In a tone that very much mirrored his body language, he said, “I heard about them right after I was sired. Thought about it. Thought Dru was my bloody savior. Angelus never wanted me to have her, though the idea never went away.” He sighed. “After he got himself stuffed with soul, I thought about it again. Wanker was no longer in the picture, right? An’ Dru was…well, in my mind, she was mine.”

Buffy shivered, disgust and jealousy rolling in her stomach. An irrational feeling at best, considering that Spike was most definitely hers, but she couldn’t help herself. The idea that he had ever thought that of any woman that wasn’t her was too much for her overly-possessive mind. Spike was hers, dammit. He’d been hers forever—even before she was born. How dare a stupid, crazy vampire woman try and wheedle him away? Even if said stupid, crazy vampire woman was the reason that Spike was curled in Buffy’s arms. Stupid Drusilla still had no right to ever have a hold on Spike, and that so wasn’t the claim talking.

When she met Spike’s eyes, he was grinning like a madman.

“What?” she demanded.

“You must be havin’ quite the conversation with yourself in that gorgeous li’l noggin,” he teased, his mouth dipping to caress her lips. “You’re so cute when you’re jealous.”

“I am so not jealous!” Buffy insisted immediately.

“An’ you’re not the best liar.”

“Hey!” She pouted. “Why do you think I’m jealous?”

“’Cause you are.” His grin widened and he kissed her again. “Doesn’ matter, baby. She led me here. That’s all. Without Dru, I never would’ve found you. An’ she stopped me from researching it. The claim. She got a vision of what I was hopin’ to do an’ put a right end to it. She made it perfectly clear that I was only hers on loan. Or maybe it was the other way around.” He shrugged. “Maybe she saw that you were destined for me. Bugger if I know or care. Doesn’ matter how I got here; only that I got here. But Dru’s say in the matter ended it for me. I never read up on claims ‘cause I never thought I’d do it. Not unless she changed her mind. Which is why it’s bloody surprising that I managed it in the first place, especially bein’ as pissant drunk as I was.”

“Angel—”

Spike growled.

Buffy frowned and smacked him. “Hey! You just said your ex’s name like…a bajillion times there. I don’t think I should have to talk about Angel in code if you’re not gonna do the same.”

“Yeh, well, unlike some people, I can bloody admit when I’m jealous.”

“I am not jealous.”

“Case in point.”

“I am not!”

Spike chuckled and shook his head. “It’s amazing how little your lying ability improved in that minute an’ a half.”

“You’re mean.”

“Evil,” he corrected.

“Same diff.”

He feigned an indifferent shrug. “Comes with the territory, I s’pose. Now, go on. On the bloody edge of my seat. What did your precious Angel say?”

She batted her eyes innocently. “About what?”

“About claims, you infuriating bint.”

Buffy held his gaze for a long minute, then broke into a smile. “I love you.”

His frustration vanished immediately into tenderness and awe. God, she loved it when he did that. When he went from pissed off and sexy to lovesick and sexy. The change was so instantaneous—and so gorgeous. As though his default mode was to look at her like she was an angel, rather than rip her apart because she was the Slayer. It was just another thing in her catalogue of Spike-characteristics that she adored.

“I love you, too,” he replied ardently. “I love you so much.”

Her heart sang and she was instantly lightheaded. “Softie.”

“Oi.”

Buffy smiled and gently ran her nails along his sides, enjoying the way his skin shivered beneath her touch. “Angel said that claiming is an instinctive thing for vamps. That you must’ve recognized something…in me…that made for a good…I dunno. Very primal, or so he says.” She paused and frowned thoughtfully. “He also said that different vamps will respond or approach the idea of claiming from, well, different angles. Some vamps really want to claim or be claimed, and others don’t.” She met his eyes again and smiled. “I guess you really wanted it.”

“Not much of a surprise, that.” He smiled uneasily, as though the knowledge of his wanting to belong to someone was as crippling for him to hear as it was for her to say. It just told her all the more how lonely he’d been. That he could have been with Dru for so many years, and never once felt anything but alone.

Buffy worried a lip between her teeth and reached between them to stroke his face. He’d never be alone again.

Spike shook his head a few seconds later, his eyes returning to her. “Anything else, sweet?”

“Not that I can think of. Oh! The pain…the hurty stuff that happens when we’re apart…it should end now.” At his look, she shrugged. “It was because I hadn’t done the claim thingy on you. Now that I have, we should be pain free. Which really, of the massive good. I’d hate to never get to go shopping alone with Willow again because getting five feet away from you gives me killer cramps. It was getting really bad.”

“Bloody right.”

“So, we also don’t have to do those patrol non-dates anymore.” Buffy paused and grinned. “We can go on patrol dates now. Complete with handholding and fondling of the appropriate and inappropriate kind.” Another giggle tore from her lips at the near-dreamy look that flooded his eyes. Her mouth latched onto his earlobe and nibbled, pulling him back down to her. “Wanna get started on that?”

“You mean, do I wanna leave this nice, warm bed, get thoroughly unnaked, an’ go out to kill things?”

“We can come back here and get re-naked after.”

Spike sighed and slipped his hand back over her mark. “Or we can give us something to look forward to.”

Rational thought abandoned her. There was absolutely no way to think rationally while his fingers were stroking her skin. “Ohhh…” Buffy moaned, releasing his earlobe and stretching her arms around his neck as his mouth fell to her throat. “Ohh…you’re…being very…bad.”

“Want me to stop?”

“No. No! Want good touchies.”

Spike chuckled, his lips making their way back to hers. He gave her the universe with his kiss. And there was a forever of kisses ahead of her. A forever of universes. A forever of kissing him.

Something told her that forever wouldn’t be enough.

“Then good touchies,” he murmured, “my girl shall have.”

“So he’s meeting you this afternoon?”

Buffy nodded happily, crossing her arms over her chest. Again, she was adorned with one of Spike’s tees. Again, his jeans were hanging off her hips. She knew she looked like a complete wreck—mostly thanks to Cordelia’s numerous observations—but she couldn’t care less. She was only here to collect assignments and attend the Scooby meeting, anyway. It wasn’t like there was anyone to impress.

Especially considering the way Spike had drooled and panted over her as he attempted to keep her from dressing that morning.

Willow arched a brow and crossed her arms, leaning against the row of lockers as Buffy worked her combination. “Your mother didn’t call me in a panic last night,” she said. “Why didn’t your mother call me in a panic last night?”

A blush warmed the Slayer’s skin. “Spike and I dropped by the house last night,” she said, trying to fit her math book into her locker. “It was very…odd and formal and weird. Maybe I let Spike do the talking because he’s ancient and much more able to be grown-up about the ‘being my eternal boyfriend’-type thing. He became all…old English. Like ‘do I have permission to court your daughter’ type old English.”

Willow wrinkled her nose in surprise. “That doesn’t sound like Spike.”

“I was very much on the far side of wigged,” Buffy agreed with a nod. “But it worked. And he did this cute little avoidy-of-the-eye-contact thing when we started on our way back to his crypt. Like he was all embarrassed.”

“That really doesn’t sound like Spike.”

Buffy just shrugged. “Other than the trying-to-kill-us, Will, you don’t know him very well. There’s a whole different Spike that you don’t know.”

“There’d almost have to be.” Willow beamed at the embarrassed look on her friend’s face. “So everything’s okay? With the…I mean you were all Ms. Excited when you got here and there were some blabbery could-be words, so I’m guessing—”

“He loves me.”

“That was one of the things I deciphered.” The redhead nodded proudly. “I’m good like that.”

“We’re mated.”

“See, that much I don’t really get.”

“There was no spell. There was…there was never a spell.” Buffy swallowed hard, and they turned together toward the direction of the library. People would be gathering there by now, and she was more than eager to see Spike. God, this feeling was so familiar, though larger than anything she’d ever experienced. The agony of the empty minutes between the time when she was with him again. “Spike was…it was all real. All of it.”

“Even the random bouts of lusty…confusion?”

Buffy shrugged. “Well…normal…as in, Spike claimed me the night he was all with the kidnappy. A-and the random bouts of lusty confusion are normal for people who…get claimed and don’t know it.”

“Not know it? How do you not know when you’re getting claimed?” Willow blinked and frowned. “Ummm…what’s getting claimed?”

She grinned coyly. “It’s a vampire thing.”

“That much I figured.”

“He bit me…the night that…with the slayer-grabbing…he bit me. A-and I don’t…I kept it from everyone.” She stopped and met Willow’s inquisitive eyes. “I mean it. Everyone. Not even Spike knew. A-and I would’ve told you, but after that whole bogus pregnancy-thing, it just…and it was mine.” She stopped again; her friend’s uninterrupty-silence was beginning to make her flustered. “I didn’t know that the bite was special. It was mine and I liked it and I wanted it to be only mine. And then Angel and Giles started with the questions…about bites…and the more they asked, the more I wanted to keep it to myself. And—”

Willow held up a hand. “Buffy. Do you think I’m…mad at you? For not telling me?”

“I…well…”

“Not. Not even. Hey, as I see it, I’m lucky to have been in the know at all. E-especially with that whole…pregnancy-blunder-telling-of-Cordelia.” She shrugged. “I’m happy that you kept me in the loop after the…stuff I did that deserved to be left out of the loop.”

“Well, to be honest, I thought so for a while.” Buffy smiled awkwardly and shrugged. “But then I had all this stuff I needed to tell someone, and you were the only one that I would ever tell. Plus, with the already knowing about me and Spike. That helped bunches.”

Willow nodded. “I try to be helpful...” She paused. “And so…you’re claimed.”

“Uh huh.”

“And that’s…a very good thing, right?”

A warm light filled Buffy’s eyes. “Oh, Will. It’s fantastic. It’s…” She sighed happily. “It’s wonderful.”

“No more mopey I’m-not-dating-Spike-but-what-should-I-wear-on-my-date-with-Spike?”

“No more. Just full-on giddy-as-a-schoolgirl Buffy who will be telling you massively dirty stories…except the ones that are too private or…dirty.” She winced. “I’m gonna try to get Spike to come with me to the Bronze tonight. I want him…with my friends. And I know Xander will pull a massive wig and he won’t be able to look at or talk to me for a while.”

“Which reminds me…I gotta have Giles do the un-delusting spell.” Willow flushed and ducked her head in embarrassment. “Yeah. I give up. Xander’s a giant weasel, but he doesn’t deserve my meanness. Though it has come in handy…”

“You’re finally gonna undo the delust? And what if the lust starts up again?”

The redhead shrugged. “Have you remind me how much I adore Oz? I-I really think the lust…it was only there because…childhood crush issues a-and being very confused. But Xander is swine. Smelly, ookie swine. And, being Jewish, I just don’t find him kosher.”

Buffy nodded. “Good for you, Wills.”

“Well, the Xander-hate worked for some things. I gave him a talking to about you and your decisions. Well, not so much a talking to as I threatened him.” She flashed an innocent smile and shrugged. “I don’t know if that’s gonna help him deal, but I tried.”

“And that means a lot. A whole lot,” Buffy assured her. “It doesn’t really matter. He’s just gonna have to deal. Being of the claimed? Not much with the options. And even if it was, I love Spike. And he knows it. And he’s all—”

“Spike’s here.”

Buffy looked up sharply, her eyes darting rapidly from one end of the hall to the next. “He is? Where? I don’t see him.”

Willow rolled her eyes and wrapped her hand around her friend’s arm, dragging her to the library door and pointing through the window. “In there.”

“Oh.” Oh. “Of course. I knew that.”

The redhead arched a brow. “Uh huh.”

Buffy just glanced down sheepishly. Okay, so she didn’t know how to play it cool. She was a big massive failure at playing it cool.

And why should she? Spike was here.

Playing it cool was not even on her radar.

Spike rolled his eyes and took a quick survey of his surroundings. He was with the sodding Watcher; there ought to be some stakes lying around. Or a nice, sharp, axe. A crossbow would do. Didn’t rightly matter as long as it was sharp or pointy. All he needed was something to swing or throw at Angel the next time the overgrown ponce looked at him like that. Like he was a disease, and he couldn’t wait to give Buffy the cure. The stupid wanker was going to get a nice sliver of wood right through the chest, or a swift decapitation. Whichever was easier provided the available weaponry.

“Oi. Watcher.” Spike took a pronounced step away from his grandsire and shivered. “What’s this overgrown ponce doing here, anyway?”

Giles snickered appreciatively, drawing a book off the top shelf in the caged-off section of the library. “Bloody good question, if you ask me.”

“Hey!” Angel waved. “I’m standing right here.”

“Yeh, mate.” Spike arched a brow and slid a hand into his duster pocket for his fags. His search turned up nothing. Must have forgotten to slip the new pack into his pocket. Bloody figured. Just when he could really use something in his mouth. “That’s the problem.”

“When Buffy gets here—”

It took much effort to refrain from tearing the git’s head off for daring to speak Buffy’s name. He should get a medal for his restraint. “When Buffy gets here,” he growled, his voice strained, “she’ll say the same bloody thing. Only don’ expect her to be as calm as I am.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed. “You’re real proud of what you’ve done to her, aren’t you?”

“Not nearly as proud as she is, mate.”

“You—”

Spike lowered his head, glowering. “Oi. Watch it. Don’t make me stake you jus’ to see how li’l Buffy won’t care. Had to talk the poor li’l twig down from sticking something nice an’ pointy in your chest for the…oh, what was that? Trying to get her killed.”

“I was trying to help,” Angel replied, his eyes darkening. “And you’re an idiot if you think I would have ever let anything happen to her.” He paused. “No. Check that. You’re just an idiot. The Cruciamentum is notoriously cruel and barbaric. Do you really think that the Council would have gone any softer? Do you really think that they would’ve done anything differently? Do you really think that Kralik was the worst thing they could’ve thrown at her?”

There was a quiet minute as Spike considered, his brows flickering upward in interest. “Well, when you put it that way…” He snarled and stormed over, reveling in the smack of Angel’s dainty flesh as his fist sank into the poofter’s eye. “You touch her again, an’ I’ll make sure your ashes are scattered at each corner of the globe.”

“I’ll be happy to help,” Giles offered cheerfully.

“There just aren’t enough words to express how much I hate the both of you,” Angel grumbled.

Spike gasped dramatically and placed a hand over his unbeating heart. “Peaches. You wound.”

“Spike—”

“Spike!”

His head whipped up just in time to see a blur of blonde hair flying through the library’s swinging doors. And instantly, his anger vanished, his scowl melting into a warm smile. Angel was immediately forgotten.

Buffy was here.

“Spike.” The next thing he knew, he had an armful of warm, vibrant slayer, her hands cupping his cheeks and dragging his mouth down to hers. And he melted into her kiss, his hands slipping down her sides, grasping her ass to grind her into his growing erection. He heard Angel’s disgusted sigh and Giles’s quick shuffling to make himself as busy as possible. He would have thought himself filled with warmth at the idea that she would snog him so liberally in front of her chums, but the second her lips touched his, the world melted away.

“I missed you,” she whimpered, sucking his lower lip into her sweet mouth. “It’s been—”

“Forever,” he agreed, nipping at her tongue. “At least three hours.”

“Three and a half, but who’s counting?”

Giles cleared his throat. Loudly. “Ummm…if you two…could just…separate for a second.”

“Sod off,” Spike growled threateningly into her mouth, grinding her against his erection, “we’re busy.”

Angel shrugged and marched forward. “Hey. I’ll help.”

“Try it,” Buffy murmured between kisses, “and I’ll scatter your ashes all over the globe.”

Spike pulled back at that, his eyes shining brightly. “Hey, that’s what I said.”

“Yeah?” she asked, leaning in to nibble on his lower lip again.

“Not two bloody minutes ago.”

“Nifty!” She kissed the corner of his mouth before swallowing him with her lips again. “We must be linked or something.”

“Mystical forces.”

“Some sort of ancient binding ritual.”

“Say,” Spike mused, brushing his lips across her cheek, then again at the pulse point of her throat. “You think it’s possible that our blood is tied together for all eternity?”
“Quite possible.”

The redheaded pipsqueak at the head of the library made a noise that sounded a lot like the sounds Dru used to make at cute, fuzzy animals before she gutted them.

“Awww. Aren’t they cute?”

Angel growled and the small little awww sounds vanished. “Well,” Willow amended, fidgeting. “They are.”

“She’s wearing Spike’s clothes again,” the old sod grumbled, pouting.

“Umm, yeah,” the redhead agreed, arching a brow. “A-and you’re surprised?”

Giles blinked rapidly, studiously avoiding turning his eyes to the blond couple that seemingly couldn’t take their hands off each other, and flashed Willow a weak smile. “Angel seems to be in a perpetual state of denial,” he said. “Every time he sees something regarding Buffy’s…closeness to Spike, he reacts as though it is, well, news.”

“I do not,” Angel grumbled.

“Yeah, all your posturing suggests nothing but warmth and puppies,” Willow retorted dryly. “I really don’t see the big, here. I mean, if you’re gonna scream about the whole vampire thing, I gotta say, look in the mirror.” She paused. “Or, you know, don’t. Because that won’t work…because of the vampire thing. Point is that there is serious pot/kettle stuff going on a-and Spike saved Buffy’s life after you endangered it and they’re all with the claimy goodness. Plus they’re in love. You know what in-love Buffy is like.”

“Bloody unreasonable,” Spike drawled, affectionately tugging at Buffy’s earlobe with his teeth. “Not a chit I would fancy pissing off. Savvy?”

Giles cleared his throat. Hard. “Perhaps you two would be kind enough to…stop touching one another inappropriately. After all, this meeting is to discuss the new…order of things. I think Buffy’s newly…claimed state will be easier for everyone to accept if there isn’t so much…”

“Groping?” Willow ventured.

“Fondling?” Angel growled.

“Erm. Touching,” Giles concluded, his glasses sliding seamlessly off his nose and landing in the hem of his shirt. “Buffy?”

“Xander and Cordy will be here in a second,” Willow agreed, nodding. “And Oz.”

The Watcher nodded. “And probably Faith, at some point.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Oh, joy,” she spat. “Speaking of people who need their asses handed to them.”

Angel sighed. “Buffy…”

“No, I really don’t need a lecture from you. Now or ever.” Her hands slid down Spike’s arms. “We’re here to get with the program, right? Or help others…get with it. Then Spike and I are going to patrol. Then…” She flashed her lover a timid look and shuffled her feet. “I-I was hoping you…and I…we could Bronze it? You know, try to make some gang time so they feel more comfortable with the you and me that is…us.”

Spike grinned. She was so bloody cute when she was trying to play it coy. Did she honestly think there was even a snowman’s chance in hell that he’d say no? That he’d deny her anything? Her chums were important to her. Very important. And he knew it was vital that they understand. Not just the redhead, who seemed to be taking everything very well. There was the boy, and the cheerleader, and the wolf. She needed her friends happy. As much as the thought appealed to him, Spike knew that she couldn’t be all his all the time.

Therefore, if Buffy wanted to go dancing, he’d take her dancing. And he’d get her so bloody hot and bothered that she’d be begging him to take her to bed…or to the nearest dark corner. Which ever was more convenient.

“Right then,” he purred. “Whatever you want, pet. I’m at your disposal.”

“So we Bronze?”

“If that’s what you want.”

God, he loved putting that light into her eyes. That shine of happiness. That glow. She was so lovely. Christ, she was…well, for lack of a better word, effulgent. His effulgent goddess.

She was all his.

Something Spike was about to demonstrate with another hefty bout of snogging when the library doors swung open once more.

Speaking of the Scoobies. All three of them, right in a row. The whelp with the cheerleader and the wolf on either shoulder. How was that for bloody timing?

“So, what’s the what? Cordy keeps trying to tell me that Buffy’s really pregnant this time, but that just lost all its…hey.” Xander stopped, frowning, his eyes going wide. “What’s Buffy doing all cuddly with the undead…again?”

Willow rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Xander, do you selectively block out what I tell you?”

He smiled weakly, obviously confused.

“I told you.” Cordelia offered an indignant huff. “No one ever listens to me. She’s pregnant again.”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “In order for me to be pregnant again, I’d have to have been pregnant a first time. There was no pregnancy. There was a fleeting bout of stupidity-laced panic. No demonic Elvis-impersonator lovechild. Okay? And Spike’s here because…well…”

Angel crossed his arms, his brows perking.

“Well…we’re dating. Only…permanently. Spike loves me. I love Spike. We did some serious mojo without knowing it and we’re kinda, umm, linked. But we’re happy about it. As in sublimely. Because we love each other.” As though to emphasize the love part, Buffy edged closer to Spike and wrapped her arms around his middle. Then her voice hardened—the small, frightened girl vanishing in the face of the woman she’d become. “And if you’re not okay with that, you’re free to leave. Now.”

There was a long, quiet moment. Xander blinked hard, his hands coming up in a show of neutrality. “Points for being okay with it,” he said. “Way I see it…anyone who rescues the Buffster from a souled-but-morally-ambiguous Angel has serious marks in the Xan-Man’s book. I’m not saying I understand it but—”

Buffy quirked a brow. “Willow threatened you?”

Willow beamed, oddly proud of herself.

The whelp nodded, not missing a beat. “And considering how much I haven’t been on her list of Most Favoritist People, I think I wanna keep my…parts intact. So…” He offered Spike a halfhearted wave. “Welcome to the show that never ends.”

He nodded, confused but not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. If the Slayer’s friends were going to accept him literally with a smile and a nod, he’d take it. After all, it meant the world to Buffy. “Thanks, mate.”

“Here without bias. Want to keep my parts,” Xander affirmed with yet another nod.

Buffy nodded appreciatively, turning her eyes to Cordelia and Oz. “You guys want to weigh in?”

“I really don’t care what happens,” Cordelia replied, shrugging apathetically. “As long as the words killing and spree are far from the picture, you can screw the dead as much as you want.”

The Slayer wrinkled her nose. “Um. Thanks. I think.” She turned to Oz. “And you?”

He shrugged. “As Willow goes, so goes my nation.”

Buffy cracked a smile. “That sounds vaguely familiar,” she mused, tightening her arms around Spike’s middle. “Hey. Look at this.”

He grinned and kissed her cheek. “An’ you were worried.”

She narrowed her eyes at him but didn’t say anything. Instead, she just rested her head at his shoulder as her chums settled in around them. He felt her heart beating against him, felt her pulse racing under his touch. Felt her life thrum beneath his fingertips.

Her warmth. Her life. Her purity. It burned him, but he didn’t dust.

Not with her at his side.

With Buffy, he lived.

Author’s Note: Wow. Well, this is the end, folks. Thank you so, so much to all my incredibly wonderful readers for making this ride as fun as you did. Your enthusiasm has been overwhelming, and I’m so completely grateful to everyone.

Right now, I’m going to have to say that this is very much the end. Unless my muse decides to gift me with an interesting idea for a sequel, I think I’ve milked this plotline as much as I can. I’m very much invested in other story ideas right now (about seven of them…*kicks stupid muse*). It’s going to be a while before I add any of my projects to the archives, though. While my muse is in hyperdrive, it’s taken a few brutal beatings recently and I want to get a good amount of material written before I start posting.

The good news? I’m more than halfway through my next fic. *bounce* It’s gonna be rather short, but hey, at least I’m halfway through it.

In the meantime, I invite anyone who wants notification of when I have a new story out, or just chapter updates, to join my mailing list.

Again, thank you guys so, so much for your enthusiasm and your support. You’ve completely blown me away. I never expected the response to this story to be so explosive. Thank you SO MUCH.

And a huge thanks to Megan and Meredith for all your help with this story. You guys are invaluable. *snuggles* Thank you!

It was amazing what a few weeks could do. Standing in front of the mirror, naked, Buffy frowned and tilted her head. Nothing had changed. Every mark that should mar her body was all with the marring. There was a thin hair of a scar just over her belly—the last of her birthday-bash wounds. A rather pronounced series of hickeys ran across her neck, and of course, there was the claim mark on her inner thigh. Nothing had changed. No, nothing had changed at all.

But something was different. Something was very different, and she couldn’t tell what.

And really, what was there to go off of? Her stomach was as flat as ever—flatter, even, for all the extra slayage workouts she’d been getting. Plus, her daily regimen now included hours of hot monkey loving with her gorgeous, albeit slightly morally ambiguous vampire of a mate. So, yes. Other than being slightly thinner and having a healthy lots-of-sex glow warming her skin, there was nothing that should ostensibly be different.

Maybe it was the lighting. The last time she’d checked herself out, she’d done so right before hopping in the shower. Right now, she was in mid-preparation for her patrol-date and subsequent Bronzing—only she hadn’t gotten further than the removal of her school garb. Her reflection had caught her eye, and whether by curiosity or something much naughtier, she’d felt compelled to give herself the once-over again. And something was different.

The lighting? No. This wasn’t a cosmetic thing. It wasn’t like she was checking out her pores or looking for unsightly blemishes. Hell, she had Cordelia for that. No, something was different. Something was very different.

Then again, she wasn’t feeling as lost and confused as she had the last time she’d surveyed herself in the mirror. Perhaps that was it. She wasn’t lost anymore. Spike kept her thoroughly and wonderfully found. And she wasn’t confused. Big no to confused. If anything, Buffy hadn’t felt so certain about anything in all her life.

She frowned and worried a lip between her teeth, lifting her breasts to further her inspection. No, nothing different there. No bigger. No smaller. The only thing that had changed in her boobs was the amount of attention they received now. Spike loved playing with her nipples, almost as much as he loved sucking on her claim mark. He made a nightly thing of it—trying to see how much she could take before she begged him stop. In which case, her begging only caused his efforts to redouble.

Then again, Buffy thought with a smirk, fair was fair. She’d definitely had loads of fun letting him know firsthand how good it felt to have the claim mark played with. She loved hearing him babble and melt and moan helplessly under her caress. It made her feel womanly. It made her feel…

Buffy blinked and met her reflection’s eyes. That was it. That was the change. Of course that was it.

Being with Spike—being his mate and his lover and his slayer and, well, his—it made her feel like a woman. Not a girl. Not an organic weapon against evil. She was female—through and through. And she could be the woman with him and the Slayer when the world needed saving. She could be both. Spike had shown her both.

Spike had shown her so much.

Buffy’s eyes raked down her reflection. She was astonished at what a few simple weeks could do. How she could have ever looked at herself in the mirror and not know her body as well as she did now. Her skin no longer felt borrowed. The tingly nerves that buzzed whenever she was aroused were no longer foreign. Her body no longer felt like a stranger’s. No, Spike had taught her to know her body well. He’d made it hers—he’d given her form as a woman rather than simply a slayer.

She remembered, a lifetime ago, standing in front of the bathroom mirror and wondering what it was that had driven a drunken Spike to see her as anything but the Slayer. How he could have, inebriated as he was, found her remotely desirable. And though her confidence in her sexuality was on the rise, her stomach still coiled in uncertainty from time to time. She wondered how he could see her as anything other than plain. How he could see her at all.

When she spoke of her fears, Spike would stare at her in wonder. “I can’t understand how you don’ know how gorgeous you are,” he’d whispered the night before, cupping her breasts with near reverence. “I could spend hours jus’ looking at you. Taking you in.” He’d pressed his lips to her flat stomach, his mouth wandering southward slowly until he was worshipping his claim mark, his fingers slipping inside her slick pussy. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

Buffy trembled and sighed, her eyes falling to the claim mark. It was so small. So lovely. How was it that something so small could give her the whole world? She had absolutely no idea. She didn’t know how a bite could become something precious just by whispering a word. She didn’t know.

She didn’t know how such a small mark could mean so much. It just did.

She licked her lips, spreading her legs and gently running her fingers over the bite. Her insides rushed with lust and her legs wobbled. “Oh, God,” she whimpered, her head rolling back. “Spike…”

His fingers materialized from nowhere, sliding down her arms and curling around her wrists, pulling her gently until her back was pressed against a strong, familiar chest. “Starting without me, pet? That’s cheating.”

Buffy gasped, her knees buckling. She would have fallen on her butt had Spike not held her upright. Damn. And she thought she was past this. “Oh…”

“Not that I don’ appreciate the free show, luv, but I was hopin’ you’d let me have the honor of stroking you tonight.”

She moaned in protest, her head collapsing wearily against his shoulder. “The floor just never opens and swallows you when you want it to.”

Spike chuckled, his hands slowly moving up her torso until he was palming her breasts. She watched the play in the mirror. Watched her skin shiver under the presence of an unseen touch. She watched her reflection gasp and arch, invisible lips skating up and down her throat, Spike’s left hand dropping between her legs to cup her pussy.

“This…is just…weird,” she ground out.

“Weird?”

She waved at the mirror. “Me…with the…no you.”

“We need one of those cameras, pet. Those instant-photo gizmos of modern novelty?” He chuckled into her skin, spreading her pussy lips apart and dipping his middle and index fingers inside her warmth. “We could plaster the walls with gorgeous, naughty pictures of you…with me.”

“Unh…”

“An’ call it what you want, Slayer,” Spike continued, nudging her head with his until her gaze was fixed on the mirror again. “I find this…”

She rolled her eyes and thrust her ass back against his erection. “I know just how you find it.”

“My dirty li’l minx knows me so well.”

“You’re a perv. What’s to know?”

He chuckled again, his fingers slowly slipping out of her wet passage. “That standin’ starkers in your room when your very shaggable honey’s on his way over isn’t exactly the best game plan if you’re lookin’ to be on time to stake us some baddies t’night.” He pinched her clit and grinned when she moaned, her eyes fluttering shut. Then he was urging her to face him, taking her face in his hands and claiming her mouth in an eager, ardent kiss. And Buffy melted on the spot. He kissed her like the world was ending—always. He kissed her, and the ground moved.

“Spike…”

“Your mum’s out, isn’t she?” he asked heatedly between kisses, helping her shove his duster off his shoulders before turning his hands to his belt as she tugged his t-shirt over his head.

Unfortunately, it was rather difficult to focus on anything aside from his wicked mouth, let alone try and do anything with hers that didn’t involve sucking on his tongue. “I…uhhh…”

“Wanna know how quiet we have to be,” he explained in a soft growl, kicking off his boots. “Wanna know if I’m gonna have to wait till later to hear you scream for me.”

“She’s out.”

An eager grin tickled his lips. “Good.”

“We should…really…go…” Buffy shoved him onto her bed, dropping to her knees in front of him to tug his jeans down his legs. Her eyes flashed when his cock bobbed free, and before she could stop herself, she had her lips wrapped around his silky head, her nails lightly scratching at the proud claim mark on his thigh.

“Oh fucking hell!” Spike roared and vamped, fingers threading through her hair to hold her to him as he drove himself deeper down her throat. “Oh bleeding…that’s it, baby. God, such a hot li’l mouth.”

Buffy grinned coyly and slowly slid her lips off him. She dutifully ignored his whimper of protest, her hand curling around his length as her mouth turned to the bite mark. “I better call someone,” she murmured, her tongue lapping at his sensitive flesh, her grin widening with every pleasure-tinged gasp that tore through his throat. “Let them know to not send a search party.”

“Buffy…” He fisted her hair and arched her neck back until she locked gazes with his demon. And God, even then, even with bumpies and fangs, he could not hide from her. She saw love behind the burning yellow in his eyes. She saw tenderness. She saw poetry. She saw a man—her man—entwined with the monster that loved her. And her heart swelled.

“Get up here,” he murmured, his tongue running down one of his fangs.

“You don’t want me to play?” she asked, batting her eyes innocently, lowering her head to sample the bite mark again. The tortured moan that hissed through his teeth burned her alive. “I thought you liked it when I played.”

“When exactly did you become a sodding dominatrix?”

She arched a brow. “Is that what I am? I thought I had to have whips or chains or something. And ewww!”

Spike perked a brow, his hands curling under her shoulders to haul her up the length of his body, reclining until his back was pressed against the mattress and she was sprawled on top of him. “You’re tellin’ me you don’ fancy the idea a little?” he asked, gently easing her up. “Me, chained to the bed? Lettin’ you have your wicked way with me? It’d be bloody appropriate, I think.”

“Letting me have my wicked way with you?” she echoed, arching a brow. “If you’re chained to the bed, you’ll be doing very little letting.” Buffy paused, inching her way up his body at the gentle prodding of his hands. “What are you—”

“Come here, baby.” And then she saw his intent, and her skin flushed wildly. He wanted her to straddle his face. Oh God, he wanted her—that part of her—there. There was no way she wasn’t going to Hell for this. “Kitty wants some cream.”

“You are so nasty.” The words lacked bite—or anything, really. Buffy worried a lip between her teeth, her hands reaching for the linen as Spike’s talented tongue parted her pussy lips and gave her a good lick. “Oh God.”

He chuckled. And though it occurred to her that she should slap him several times for finding her so amusing in a not-so-flattering way, she really didn’t care why he was laughing as long as the vibrations felt like that. He wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked her into his mouth, plunging two fingers inside her channel as his right hand curled around her hip to lazily stroke the claim mark.

This was not fair. It was not fair that he could manipulate her body so smoothly.

“God, I love your taste,” he whispered. Her blush deepened and she looked down, her eyes catching his. And he watched her so intently that she forgot what he was doing until the length of his fang grazed her clit. Her body jolted and she jerked with a compulsive rush of ecstasy and fear. He wouldn’t hurt her, of course. He would never hurt her. But knowing that he could—now, especially—so easily, made the entire experience that more illicit. More…

“Delicious,” he whispered, and she smiled, lovingly running her fingers over his brow ridges.

Spike’s eyes fluttered shut and he trembled hard. Then, drawing in a deep breath, he slowly eased her down his body again, until his hard cock was caressing her backside. He wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand, then tugged her down for a soft kiss. She moaned, teasing his fangs with her tongue, pricking herself intentionally so that her blood spilled down his throat. And when he whimpered and growled into her, every nerve in her body positively hummed.

“Tell me,” he whispered against her lips as she positioned him at her opening. “Tell me you love me, Buffy. Like this.” He took her hand in his and raised it to his face, his amber eyes swallowing her whole. “Tell me you love me.”

God, he was going to make her cry again. Buffy inhaled sharply and sank onto his cock, fusing their bodies together in bliss. “I love you,” she gasped. “I love you. It…it happened so slowly.” She sucked in another deep breath, rose and fell. The feel of his cock sliding inside her was another sensation that would never lose its novelty. Every time felt like the first—only not, because every time, she fell more and more into him. She became more a part of him. And in that, the world of firsts was opened to a world of forevers. Forever with him would never be enough. “But I still don’t…I don’t remember not loving you, Spike. I know there was a time…that I…” She threw her head back and sighed, rotating her hips and finding a slow, cadenced rhythm. “I know it happened…but I…I don’t…remember it.”

His hand cupped her cheek, persuading her eyes open. “Really?” he asked softly.

Buffy blinked hard, but she couldn’t stop her tears. Stupid vampire. What was the deal with making her cry out of happiness, of all things? She so wasn’t used to this. “Really,” she murmured, leaning forward until her breasts were pressed intimately against his chest, moaning as his cock surged deeper within her, and caressed his mouth with hers. “Really, really.”

“You amaze me,” Spike murmured, his back arching off the bed, his hands clutching at her thighs. “You absolutely amaze me. Oh, Christ. Buffy. Jus’ like that.” He whimpered, his fangs receding as the man chased the demon away. It was, perhaps, one of the sexiest things she’d ever seen. Watching his monster helplessly melt away at her touch.

She smiled softly, licking at his throat, rotating her hips. “I try,” she replied, sitting up again, pressing her palms to his chest as she began to ride him in earnest. “Ohhh…Spike…”

“God, you’re beautiful.” Spike’s eyes flickered, his fingers sliding up her sides. “Love watching you. Love watching those lovely li’l titties of yours bounce for me. Love watching your quim swallow me. Oh God, yeh, that’s gorgeous, that is.”

Buffy whimpered and tossed her head back, bouncing on his cock. The air around her filled with the smacks of their flesh colliding, the headboard rocking against the wall each time he drove back into her. “Spike…”

He tugged her down for another burning kiss, his other hand sliding between them. “Bloody well undo me,” he purred, giving her clit a good tap before flipping her over. He seized her wrists and pinned them to the mattress beside her head, a predatory growl tumbling through his throat. “Oh, yes. That’s it. God, Buffy…you feel so good. Squeezing me. Squeeze me jus’ like that.”

She flushed and clenched her slayer muscles, her arms breaking free of his hold and wrapping determinedly around his neck. “You, too.”

He pressed his lips to her shoulder, shuddering. “Tell me?”

“I love you.”

“Tell me what I do to you.” He stretched his hands under her shoulders, grasping her tightly as the pace of his thrusts increased. “Tell me. Tell me.”

Buffy blinked rapidly, her heart jumping into her throat. She didn’t know how to do this. She didn’t know how to be the talker during sex. She didn’t know how to vocalize what he did to her—how wonderful he felt inside her. Anything she pieced together sounded cheesy and clichéd to her soap-opera trained ears. But if Spike wanted to know what he did to her—if he needed her to say it—she would try. After everything he’d done for her, it was the least she could do. “You feel…” she moaned and sighed again. “I love the way…you feel.”

“Mmm.” He brushed his lips against her collarbone, then at the swell of her breast. “Do you?”

“Y-yes.”

He purred his encouragement, his thrusts exploding into a frenzy. He pounded her into the mattress, panting against her breast as his left hand broke away from her shoulder to slide between their thrusting bodies again. Buffy squeezed her eyes shut and clutched at him. And when his fingers reached the place where they were joined them, she couldn’t hold back her pleasured cry. All coherency vanished in a blink. She tried blindly to form words—she blurted out every feeling her nerves touched. She wanted so bad to give him what he wanted. What he needed.

“Spike—”

He was massaging her clit speedily, his balls slapping her ass with every drive. “You’re so warm,” he panted. “So bleeding hot. My girl. My girl an’ her hot, fiery li’l quim. Squeeze me like that. Squeeze me so…oh yeah.”

“Uhhh, Spike—”

“I love you.” He pressed his lips to her shoulder, his bumpies bursting forward again. He nudged her cheek with his ridges, his fangs gliding across her jugular. “I love you, Buffy.”

“Love you.”

He pinched her clit and sliced his fangs into her golden skin, and she exploded around him. She exploded and the room fell away. The ceiling blinked out and she was blanketed with stars. His name tore off her lips, her body trembling hard, her nails digging into his biceps. And that was it. Spike growled as he spilled himself inside her, his tongue lapping sweetly at her skin as the rumble lulled into a low purr.

He buried his head in the crook of her neck and whimpered. “Mine. You’re mine, Buffy. All mine.”

She shivered and nipped at his earlobe. “I am.”

He sighed contentedly, licking at her skin. “An’ I’m yours. Forever an’ ever, luv. I mean it.”

He did. She heard it. She felt it. They had forever in front of them. An eternity in his arms. Forever.

Though something told her that forever wouldn’t be long enough. Forever could never be long enough.

It was, however, a very good start.

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