Breaking a Slayer

Breaking a Slayer: Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

Spoilers/Ships: This is AU. Buffy/Spike/Angel.

Distribution: Sure, just let me know.

Feedback: Is always nice.

Rating: NC-17.



Spike grabbed his jeans, yanked them on, and fastened them then turned to face Angel. Shocked fury raced through him and he vamped instantly to game face. "You bloody ass. You stupid pillock. I don't believe even you could be that low, that fucking conniving. You never told her? Even after you got your blinkin' soul back, you bastard, you never told her that you'd lied? That you'd done it on purpose to hurt her? I'm gonna fucking kill you!" He leapt on Angel like an angry panther, taking his much larger sire to the ground with him.

Spike pummeled Angel viciously, straddling his sire and pounding at his face, head and chest with brutal bruising force. Angel hissed and his game face slid on, but as he was about to respond, he paused, then dropped his clenched hands back to his sides and allowed his childe to hit him. Caught in the blood lust and rage of his demon, Spike continued to pound on Angel mercilessly until his sire's lack of retaliation slowly dawned on him.

"Fight back, you pansy nancy boy. What're you afraid of? C'mon ponce, give it a go. Coward!" Spike leaned forward in fury and ripped at Angel's throat in a dominant challenge. That, finally, got the reaction he was seeking as Angel threw him across the garden and leapt after him, once again the s pre predator his childe remembered. "Oh, shit!" Spike thought as Angel's large hands grabbed him by his naked shoulders and slammed him into the concrete wall.

Dust flew as Angel leaned dangerously close to his childe's jugular and hissed angrily, "What was I supposed to say that wouldn't make her feel worse, you scatterbrained idiot? 'Oh, sorry Buffy, I really didn't mean that you were a bad lay, actually you were so good that you ripped my soul away?' That's sure to make her feel better, Will. Or how about: 'Buffy, I lied when I was Angelus. I still wanted you. Actually, I wanted you so much, I was trying to figure out a good way to chain you to my bed and rape you until you screamed for mercy. Then I thought I'd fuck your face and ass for a few days and finally rip your throat out before rolling in your blood and savaging your still-warm body.' What?" he hissed at Spike's recoil, "not the words of love you had in mind, Spikey? We can't all be poets, you know."

Angel dropped Spike to the ground with a thud and turned away bitterly. "I hurt her so badly the morning after her birthday I can never make it right again, Spike. I was in heaven for one night and then I went to hell. I've been there ever since. What business do I have dragging Buffy there with me? God forgive me for saying it, but she's better off with you, Childe." He stalked away into the mansion in enraged frustration as Spike stood, once again speechless and left behind.

He grabbed his shirt from the wet grass and shrugged it on before climbing the stairs to the Slayer's bedroom. The door was shut and locked, he discovered with no surprise, as he tried the handle. "Slayer? Pet, could you open the door please? I need to talk to you, Luv. Slayer? Please? You've gt alt all wrong, Luv. It's not what you think at all, far from it." No response. He could feel her on the other side of the door, hear her trying to calm her sobs, quiet her sniffles. He yearned toward her, kneeling outside the door and placing both hands against the warm wooden surface. He laid his cheek against it as well, feeling her sadness and pain in his damnably sensitive way.

Angel might prance about with his 'oooh I have a soul, pity poor me routine' driving his friends half mad, but Spike knew deep inside he himself was the more vulnerable of the pair. Angel had the strength to destroy others and himself and yet move on to the next challenge. Will lacked none of the ferocity of the demon, but his core personality remained that of the fragile poet he'd been so many years before, just as deep down inside, Angel still carried traces of the arrogantly handsome bar brawler Darla had found so enticing. Years of practice at mayhem, blood and destruction had lessened none of William's yearning or capacity for love. He'd showered that love on Angelus, who mocked it and Drusilla, who betrayed it; even, for a while, on Darla, who'd spurned it and him as unworthy of the line of Aurelius.

Buffy, though, Buffy treated him as more than a monster. Even in the midst of fighting him to the death…again…Buffy treated him as a man. Must run in the family, since her mum did it too. How it came about, Spike had no idea, but he knew deep inside in the place he kept safely hidden from others beneath blustery bravado that Buffy held a portion of his heart no one else could ever touch. And she was hurting now because of him…and his idiot mick of a sire.

"Buffy, let me in. I must talk with you, Luv. Please, Pet? Open the door….BUFFY! FUCKING OPEN THE BLOODY FUCKING DOOR OR I'M FUCKING WELL GONNA FUCKING KICK IT THE BLOOMING FUCK IN!"

Once again, patience not really his virtue…if he had any at all…but amazingly, for once, it got him what he wanted. Buffy opened the door hesitantly, not meeting his eyes. She was wrapped in a too-big robe, bundled up as if she could shelter under its shell from prying eyes. Her face showed the ravages of her latest crying jag. She was pale and shaking a bit as he strode through the door and closed it softly behind himself.

Abandoning all pride, he knelt at her feet. "Pet, you don't know what I'm thinking, don't even try to guess. You're so far from the truth you'd not recognize it if it bit you harder than I could without the damn chip. You are the most incredible, gorgeous, bloody marvelous lay I've had in over a century of unlife. No one compares to you, not the most talented whore in Paris nor the raciest vampire in bloody Britain. You are spectacular. You have muscles inside you I couldn't begin to imagine. I've never felt that fucking amazing, ever! Please, Slayer, I wasn't speechless from disgust…you nearly broke me in two. All I want for the rest of my unlife, however short or long is to have you again and again and again in any way you'll let me."

He looked up at her from deep blue eyes, trying to gauge whether any of his words were getting through. Some of them must have, because she was blushing a rosy pink color instead of that pasty pale color she'd been when he entered.

"Buffy," he said huskily, as he rose to hold her gently and gaze into her hazel-green eyes. He stroked one unruly strand of hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear with care. He leaned forward and kissed her jaw line, moving towards her ear and nibbling on it lightly.

Buffy sighed and relaxed a little into his embrace and he began murmuring endearments and dirty promises of exactly what he wished to do to her willing body. "Pet, I want to kiss your sweet mouth until you gasp for air underneath me. I'm going to suckle at your beautiful breasts until you beg me to let you cum and then I'll slide down to your precious cunny and eat you until your nectar flows like honey into my hungry jaws."

Buffy gasped in shocked arousal at his words. Never had anyone spoken to her like that. God, it made her so…hot. Suddenly the robe seemed much too enveloping, she was sweating and warm, despite Spike's cold mouth kissing and nipping at her jaw and neck as he continued murmuring his sweet, nasty endearments to her.

"I want to plunge my long ton tongue into your pussy and fuck you with it, Pet, till my whole face is soaked with your juices. Then I'll slide back to your sweet rosehole and rim you until you scream for my cock anywhere, everywhere. Onlen, en, when you beg me to fuck you, will I enter your perfect body with my cold dick." He sucked at Angel's mark on her neck, past caring what his sire might do to if if he tasted the Slayer's powerful blood straight from the font.

Buffy groaned in awed wonder at the amazing sensations Spike could coax from her just with his words. She'd never heard such dirty promises, didn't even understand some of the things he was saying to her, but in his husky, lust-filled voice it all sounded enticing and depraved at the same time. *He doesn't sound likeeoneeone who doesn't want to sleep with you again, Buffy* she thought to herself with the last unimpassioned fragment of her brain. *He sounds like he wants to do it all again right now!*

"Mmm, Spike, I'm ok with that," she whispered, reaching gentle hands to pull his mouth to her own for a long, passionate kiss.

Spike started in surprise, then realized she was agreeing to go to bed with him, not some of the other things he was so desperate to do to her inexperienced body. *Gotta take it slow, William,* he thought to himself. *Don't ruin it again, bloke, or so help me I'll walk in the sun this very morning.*

Gently, he slipped the robe from Buffy's tense shoulders and pulled her to the bed. "Pet, don't think, just feel. Feel how I want you," Spike whispered, placing herd ond on the aching bulge in his jeans. "Does that look like indifference to you? I know you've not had much experience, but trust me, Luv, you make up for it with piles of inborn talent!" His admiring tone was calculated to sooth the Slayer's hurt feelings and build up her shaky self-confidence. It seemed to be working, as she relaxed more into him.

He rolled her to her stomach and began stroking his sensitive hands up and down her muscular back. Buffy sighed and let thnsionsion flow from her. *Spike is right,* she thought. *I'm just going to feel, not think. It's better this way.* She drifted toward a calm state of relaxed yearning, waiting for him to make the next move.

To be continued…