Temptation

(The characters are Joss', not ours)

Spike refocused after the sun had gone down. The whelp –Alec—who’d tried forcing himself on his girl was slumped against the wall, his fist still down his trousers and his breath whistling through his smashed nose. The starchy smell of dried semen in the boy’s drawers roused Spike’s demon a bit, but the closer, warmer scents of Dawn’s pleasure and his, rising from where their bodies were still joined, sent it into a sort of grumbling contentment again.

Still should’ve slaughtered the lout, but… Dawn had asked him not to. He buried his face in her hair, taking deep breaths although there was no need. His. His mate.

An annoying whispering came from the unconscious Alec. “Shut it, yeah?” But the boy didn’t respond. Concerned, Spike gently disentangled himself from Dawn, stroking a possessive finger over her cheek as he rose. She smiled in her sleep at his touch, and he would have lingered, but the whispering was growing to a rather annoyed-sounding squawking. It seemed to be coming from the boy’s bag, and as Spike located it and pulled it open, the squawking came clear, and the voice recognizable.

“Georges, Danby, deploy north. Rutledge, west. Alec is lost—“ Spike flung the little tracker/radio device to the concrete floor with such violence that it exploded.

Alec jerked awake, and gasped in pain as his hand came unstuck from his dick with his panicky reaction of guilt and fear. “Fuck, ow, fuck—“ he muttered sullenly, glaring at Spike.

Kneeling beside Dawn, whispering urgently to her, the vampire never even noticed him.

“Luv, wake up. Bit, we have to go.” He shook her gently. “Dawn, the Watchers are attacking.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and then wide as she jerked upright. “Those bags come with us,” she told him, indicating the grab-n-go supplies she’d assembled already. She struggled into her jeans and boots, then grabbed for weapons before a shirt, even in the chill of a December night.

Against the wall, Alec’s eyes widened at the sight of Dawn-as-half-naked-warrior, and even with the lingering sting of pain from his hand coming unstuck from his dick, he could feel it starting to harden again. She was just so damned hot like that!

“Maybe if we hurry, we can get out before they come in,” she whispered urgently to Spike, who tossed a sweater at her even as he glared at Alec.

Spike shook his head. "They're almost here." Dressing quicker than her, he worked the locks binding the chains on the prisoner to the ground, then turned and lifted Alec up off the floor. His nostrils flared, but he had to fight the desire to squelch the boy into nothingness. There were other things at stake now.

"Can you work the crane," Spike asked Dawn. "Need you to bring the hook all the way to the catwalk." With that, he shoved Alec first into the closed door, then opened it and shoved him onto the catwalk.

"I can," she said, struggling into the sweater and snatching up her weapons. "I think." She darted over to the huge piece of machinery, ignored until now because, really, what damned use was it to her when she watched over Spike's three days of death?

"Doesn't look too complicated," she said. "The buttons are labeled 'up' and 'down.' Swinging it might be harder."

Spike was short on patience, but Alec took the brunt of it, crying out at Spike's rough handling.

When all this was over, if he lived through it, Alec knew what he was going to do when they had Dawn in custody. One way or another, he'd get access and he'd give it to her... the way he knew she liked it. And if Spike wasn't dead, then he'd be in the prison next door and he'd hear... and... Fuck, that hook was swinging right at his face, he screamed.

The hook was only inches away from Alec's face when Spike pulled Alec out of the way, and grabbed it with his other hand. They both swayed dangerously close to the edge when the heavy metal dragged Spike forward.

No questions, no mercy, and paying no attention to Alec's struggles, Spike secured him to the hook and shoved him over the railing. "I'll take care of the swing," he said, watching as the boy screamed out his lungs. "Some people pay for thrills... don't suppose you've been to Magic Mountain."

He strode back to Dawn. "Good, now the won't shoot their cross bows up into the air. They'll have to ... they're here. You go up the hatch, I'll follow. Move."

Dawn grabbed up one of the bags and went. This was soo not the time to argue about it! She scrambled up the iron stairs to the catwalk level, and had started to head for the roof hatch, when the shattering of window glass came from multiple spots along the catwalk at the same time.

The Watchers had arrived, and they appeared just a little pissed. "Fuck," Dawn whispered, snatched out a baseball bat, and dropped the bag onto the openwork grating of the catwalk.

"Surrender and we will not harm you, Miss Summers," came Archer's voice. He was lying, of course. If she was a vampire, she’d be dusted if necessary, imprisoned for study if not. If she was still human… well, she had turned on her own kind.

She snarled back defiantly, "What about Spike?"

Silence.

"Keep going," Spike snarled, rushing toward a group of watchers. The trainees appeared to be hanging back with their crossbows aimed, and something else. He felt pressure...

Then he saw them, crosses aimed at him... all sorts, wooden, metal, jeweled... all sending a thousand pinpricks of pain through his system. The demon inside him roared with rage. Morphing, he went into combat intent on ramming the crosses down each one of the watchers' throats.

Dawn shook her head in disbelief before wading into the Watchers on her side of the catwalk. Now, it was the time to argue! "Not without you," she shouted, and spun into combat.

Buffy would have been proud of her, but eventually, there were too many in one place for Dawn to handle, though some Watchers would never walk right again.

At bay in a corner of the catwalk, she looked down to where Spike was surrounded by too many to fight back. They'd distracted him with the crosses long enough to get them to the floor of the warehouse. And now they had him trapped. Not helpless, never that, but... there were so many of them!

Sporting her own snarl, Dawn looked around frantically, then clambered onto the railing of the catwalk, more glad than she could say that it was a corner, and therefore better for balancing. She locked her eyes on Alec's swinging form, stuck a knife from her boot between her teeth, kicked Georges in the mouth, and leaped, praying she wouldn't go splat.

She landed with a thump and thud against the Watcher-in-Training's back, and the shock of her success nearly sent her tumbling to the ground before she could get a grip on him. He howled as she yanked carelessly at his hair and limbs to struggle up and into a non-falling position.

"Shut up, asshole," she panted around the knife in her teeth.

Alec felt like his arms were about to be wrenched out of their sockets, now that he was bearing her weight as well as his own. "Bitch," he snarled when her leg scraped against his still hard cock, only to move away.

Spike fought like it was his last fight... he didn't think it, he'd never been in a fight he thought he would lose... but he made every single move count. When he struck someone, he aimed his kicks to make sure there was maximum damage to his target and that the target hit another watcher as well. The buzz of curses coming from the watchers, the sound of breaking bones, the smell of sweat... it only invigorated him.

He grunted as a heavy cross slammed into his face. Before the watcher repeated the performance, he'd moved to the side, lifted his knee, and brought the watcher’s forearm down on it hard. Now it wasn't only the cross that hung limply from the watcher's hand, but the watcher's hand also hung at an odd angle. "Keep your toys at home, boy," Spike snarled, kicking him in the ass.

For every watcher he put out of the game, two more joined the fray. They must have called for back up. Lots of it. He was a bit flattered, but the feeling dissipated when he heard Dawn and looked up.

She had struggled into position above Alec on the crane's line, and had one foot braced on his shoulder and the other securely hooked in the loop of the crane's hook. She clung to the cable with one hand as she crouched above the captive Alec, and the knife flashed menacingly in the other as she shouted down at them all. "Stop it! Drop your weapons and crosses and get the hell on the floor, or I drop him!"

"You heard the girl," Spike seconded, turning around with a blood stained sword in his hand... making the most stubborn ones back away. "On the fucking floor. And the next bloke who flashes a cross my way will have it stuck in his arse. Compliments of William the Bloody," he reminded them, in case they had any doubts he meant it.

They hesitated. Dawn lowered the knife to the ropes holding Alec to the hook. "Not kidding, here," she called, praying she wouldn't have to do it. "How much fun do you think you'll have explaining this to his dad and nearly-royal family, not to mention the Slayer? You know, my sister?"

They glanced to Archer, who sighed heavily and lowered his weapons and himself to the floor. "Miss Summers, training you has been a terrible, terrible disappointment," he murmured, just before laying his face against the concrete.

"Quite sure the disappointment is mutual." Spike walked over the bodies of the watchers, some muttering angrily at the position they found themselves in, others too broken to be able to say a word.

Crossing to the end of the warehouse, he jumped up and pulled down the metal stairs that lead to the higher levels of the warehouse. Pulling the stairs up behind him, he climbed up to the catwalk and worked the crane. Fuck... she'd said it was bloody simple!

"Up, up!" Dawn shrieked frantically as the hook bobbed downward, putting her and Alec a mere eight feet above the floor. "Hit the damned up button!" The abrupt change in direction knocked the knife from her hand, and it clanged on the floor in a shine of metal as she snatched at the cable with both hands. "Shit!"

"Up... right..." he gained control over the crane and brought them toward the catwalk. Dropping the controls, he put his arms out over the side and brought them over the railing. "Got confused about which way is out, did you?" He kissed her in front of everyone. "It's in there... and out," he reminded her, giving her a light shove as he turned to untie Alec. "If I see one finger move... any of you, he'd going over the side."

Dawn scooped up the bags and ran for the ladder to the trap door. She scrambled up it, bags bumping against her sides and back, and waited at the top, peering down inside to make sure Spike got out, too. "Come on," she called, impatience and fear warring in her voice.

Spike shoved Alec through the door and shook him. "Tell them not to come up until you call them... tell them I'll kill you."

After Alec complied, he chained him up again, this time gagging him as well. He barred the door, then climbed out to the room where Dawn was waiting. They slammed the hatch down, then he bent a metal bar so it was permanently latched.

"You were..." Spike put a possessive arm around her waist and walked her to the other side of the roof where they had left an access rope. "Spectacular... you sure I didn't turn you?" Yeah... it was a hint, he didn't ever want to lose her, and that was one way. But best to bring it up as a joke for now.

"I'm sure," she said, turning in his grasp and pulling his head down to her mouth for a desperate kiss, flavored with the fear of losing him and the relief that they'd gotten out alive. Well, alive and undead, anyway.

He kissed her back, knowing full well this wasn't the time. "Well maybe later, then," he threw out, as he helped her to the rope and looked down into her beautiful eyes.

"Spike, I— don't think this is the time to talk about it," she told him, starting downward carefully. And what if she came back without any memory of him, or her sister? What if she was a monster? No, no, they couldn't do that. Not as long as she was able to tell him no, anyway.

At the bottom of the alley, she looked up to watch him descend, then realized she should keep a better eye out than that. She put her back to the wall, and looked up and down the alley in a careful sweeping pattern. "We're going to need a different car," she told him as he joined her. "Can't stay in London, either."

"I know." He shouldn't be disappointed, he wouldn't be. "I'll take care of it."

She grinned up at him, lacing her arms around his waist, and leaned into his chest. "I can unlock any door you want," she reminded him, "and hotwiring is soo last week. Come on," she said, planting a kiss on his cheek and scooping up one of their bags.

*

Two days later, after some running, hiding, stealing, and planning, Dawn settled into the plush seat of the Paris to Rome train, still amused by the fact that the Eurostar line had left for Paris from the Waterloo station of London's Underground. Were the British still tweaking the French about that long-ago defeat? How funny. The ride, a dull two hours under the Channel, had had lovely fixtures, a comfortable seat, and nothing whatsoever to do, particularly since she and Spike could get no alone time at all!.

So, when she and Spike had boarded this slow luxury train to Rome, they’d secured a 'parlor' and a 'bedroom,' and she'd ordered some late dinner. The grab-n-go bags had held some blood, so Spike wasn't starving, either. After dinner, she looked over at him. "Guess I can't put it off any longer," she sighed, and got out her cell phone. "Better call while I still have bars," she said morosely, and dialed Buffy's number.

"Hello Dawn?" If the caller ID was wrong, Buffy was gonna scream. "Is that you Dawn?" And what was with the humming background noise?

"Hi, Buff. Yeah, it's me. And no matter what anyone tells you, I'm fine and I'm safe. And you know what else?" She paused, long enough for effect, not long enough for Buffy to speak up. "All Watchers but Giles suck."

"Tell me something I didn't know." Buffy sucked her breath in. Dawn sounded like Dawn... maybe they were wrong. "What's going on. The truth Dawn... I may not get it from them, but I want it from you."

Dawn answered the question with one of her own. "Did you know Spike was alive? That he Shanshued after the fiery doom and crater that was Sunnydale?"

There was a moment of silence. She'd demanded the truth... now she had to give it. "Yes. But it wasn't him... not our Spike that came out of it, Dawn."

"No, you're right. He didn't remember anything that he didn't read in the histories," Dawn confirmed. "He was a new person. A totally wonderful person. And I fell in love with him." She held her phone a little away from her ear, fully expecting to get yelled at.

"You what.... Dawn you... he... it's only because you want him to be Spike," she said eventually. "Look... is it true, is he vamped?" A tightness entered her voice.

Spike pretended not to be listening, but he'd broken the tooth picks that had come with their dinner into as many pieces as they could be broken into. He was nervous... for her, not for himself.

"And he fell in love with me too," Dawn went on relentlessly. "And he saved my life and got bitten doing it, so I saved him back. And when he woke up I had him chained and I was ready to stake him. I'm not stupid, you know--"

"Never said you're stupid, but you're young." Buffy closed her eyes, remembering she'd fallen at the same age. "And he's a vamp..." Yeah, call me a hypocrite now. "It’s dangerous... Dawnie, is he there... is he making you say this?"

Dawn rolled her eyes in a serious case of little sister exasperation with big sister overprotectiveness. "Noooo," she said, her tone implying that Buffy might be more stupid than Xander could be, sometimes. "He's not making me say anything. And yes, he's revamped," she told her big sister, smiling at little at the inadvertent pun.

"Are you?" She squeezed the phone so tight, the plastic was in danger of collapsing.

"No, I'm totally not. Just had Boeuff Wellington for dinner. Spike watched. Look, Buffy... I trust him. He's not going to do anything to hurt me." Her voice went soft, pleading. "He died for me."

Buffy's mind was a swirl of thoughts. She'd been where Dawn was, she understood. Maybe it complicated things that the man Dawn had fallen for was Spike, or maybe it didn't. She'd come to terms with the fact Spike was gone... she'd move on. But there were other questions. What if revamped Spike was just playing with them, using Dawn? What if this call was meant to make Buffy relax and not go after him?

"Tell him. You tell him if anything happens to you, anything... he's dead, and nothing can change that," she said, enunciating every word. "I want to see him, and you. And until that day, I get a phone call... twice a week. You miss once, and I'm coming after you. I mean it, Dawnie..."

Dawn looked over at Spike, sure he'd heard every word. She arched her eyebrows at him, silently asking if those terms worked for him.

He gave a nod, then said out loud. "Tell the Slayer, it's a deal. And we'll be seeing her. Sometime."

"I heard," Buffy said. "Dawn... I'll... I'll try to call the watchers off."

"Thanks, Buffy," Dawn said, breathing out a sigh of relief. "But look, this number's not going to work in about six hours, 'cause I'm trashing the phone. So take calls where you don't know the numbers till we have a place you can come see us, okay?" She leaned over and pressed her lips to Spike's, holding the phone away from her mouth as she added, "thank you, I love you."

"Love you. And? So don't need to hear that," Buffy muttered, knowing full well what the temporary muffling of Dawn's words was from.

Spike pressed the power button on Dawn's phone, then tossed it on the table, still kissing her.

Dawn ran her hands up his back and into his hair, holding on tightly as Spike explored her mouth with a delicate ferocity. She could feel her nipples pebbling just from his kiss, and pressed her hips against him in invitation.

"Upper bed or lower," he asked, thickly against her lips. He had his doubts about the narrow bunk beds in the train, but it was too late to stop what she'd started. Besides, he still had a score to settle.

Dawn looked critically at the headroom for each one. "Lower, I think," she told him, rubbing her thumb across his sexy, pouting lower lip.

He nipped her finger. "Lower... not a bad idea," he nudged the lower half of his body hard against her. "I think we're in agreement."

He started to strip her, taking off her shirt and skirt, while managing to feel her out completely. She really was something, he lowered his mouth and licked her nipple through her lacy bra. "Let's leave these on," he said, about her sexy underclothes. The garter belt alone was sending messages pulsating straight to his groin.

Dawn closed her eyes in delight at the caress, and then opened them again at his comment, dark and harsh and just a little bit dangerous.

“Oh, do you like those?" She smiled innocently at him. "They were in my list of things to try to get the conservative professor to rape me some, before he saw the sense of hot underage sex." She ran a finger along her thigh, teasingly, just under the edge of the lace topping her stocking. "And as far as lower, upper, or wherever, you can have me on the table, in the chair, on or under either bunk, hanging from the ceiling, or up against the window glass." She smirked at his growl. "Maybe all of them, huh?"

"I'll take the last option. But..." his hand followed the trail hers had left up her thigh, and back down. "First things first..."

He helped her onto the bed, almost banging his head in the process, then kissing her to prevent her from complaining about his being too clothed. There was hardly any room for one person, let alone two.

As he kissed her sensless, he manuevered her wrists up high above her head. An instant later, he had her cuffed, and was looking down into her semi-insensed face. "Twas your turn to be tied up."

"Spike," she complained, and rattled the cuffs against the fixtures where he'd run the chain. "You know I can totally get out of these if I want to...."

.""You know if you do that... I'll call you a cheater, and you'll never get your reputation back." He hadn't thought of that... why had it slipped his mind? The answer was obvious... and was writhing right next to him, tempting him.

He started to trail moist kisses down the center of her chest, to her abdomen, then needed to get off the bed and move down. "Could be fun," he promised, lifting her leg and positioning his mouth right over her panties... blowing on them where they were already quite damp.

She shivered under his touch, sending the chain between the cuffs to clinking more quietly than before. "Oh, God, that feels good," she praised. "I guess you could convince me to stay p-p-put," she stuttered as he blew again, cooling the new warmth that pooled between her legs at the thought of Spike's 'mercy.'

"That's the plan." He kissed her inner thigh, deliberately rubbing his cheek against her where she wanted it most. "Stay put... like you made me," he reminded her.

Dawn's hips arched against him, chasing pressure where she wanted it. Craved it. Had to have it.

"Want me to fuck you? With my mouth first? Just as far as my lips go... then my tongue... push it in nice and deep. Then my fingers..." he was getting deeply aroused at the thought of her tightening around him, begging... wanting. "Them me... all of me... inside you..." He ran his hands up and down her creamy thighs, playing with the lace of her garters, gripping her tight when the pulsing between his legs intensified.

Dawn bit her lower lip between her own sharp teeth, mischievously refusing to answer, but she raised her knees a bit and spread them invitingly, tilting her hips upward once more.

He gave in for the moment, putting his mouth over her and sucking hard right through the panties. As she bucked under him, he used his tongue to apply pressure, up and down, pulsing to the beat of her rapid breaths.

One thing he didn't want was to push her over the edge... he was going to make this last and last... the way her torture had lasted... he was going to make sure that when they exploded, it would be as brilliant as that time.

Earlier, he'd rolled a clean leather strap into a thick wad. He slipped it inside her panties, not in her... but touching her slickened core... a new texture. He moved his hand over it. "If you clench your thighs, you'll feel it. Think of me... I'm going out for bite... and I'll be thinking of you laying here, thinking of me," he whispered, slowly backing out of the bunk.

Reflexively, Dawn's thighs clamped, and she moaned, tossing her head. At the sound of the door clicking open, though, her eyes popped open and she twisted her head to glare at Spike, upside down. "No biting," she said sharply.

"Don't think of anything but what I said..." he gave her a heated look and pulled the door shut.

Dawn whimpered, knowing she should be more concerned about Spike possibly hurting someone than fixated on his taunting, tempting words, but the cool leather against her, wide and thick in its rolled wad, made it harder than hell to think at all. She tugged at the cuffs, rattling them insistently again, but didn't cheat.

Instead, she could feel the leather growing warmer, wetter, between her legs as her arousal intensified, and she clamped her thighs again, needed relief, struggling to get the pressure higher, against her clit, or deeper, inside her. She twisted sideways in the narrow bunk, trapping it hard between her legs, and tried to roll far enough to get onto her stomach, panting as the strap shifted between her legs, rubbing against her molten core.

He faced the door, ear pressed against it, hands holding the narrow metal frames. What others thought was of no concern, not when he could hear her thrashing about... imagine her seeking pressure... feel her desperate desire as surely as he felt his own. Was she thinking of him... or just the building pressure between her legs? He was almost jealous of the leather strap.

No matter how she writhed, Dawn couldn't get what she needed from an inanimate object, though desperate whimpers were breaking from her lips as she tried to grind against it. But nothing and no one but Spike could do it for her, and this thing wasn't even close. Though the frustration did remind her of how it had been before he'd been fired, before they'd made love for the first time. The level was certainly just as high, especially since she had no idea when Spike would return to ease the torture.

"God," she moaned, scissoring her legs, tearing up the covers in her need.

As sounds broke from the room, Spike's lust tightened around him. He started to whisper words of comfort to her... to the door... "I'm here... right here..." Involuntarily, he found he was pressing his cock up against the door... emulating her movements, trying to find relief. In the end... he broke, and pushed the door open.

The sight of her rolling, jerking her hips back and forth, almost undid him. Exerting the last of his control, he slowly undressed, whispering to her. "I'm here luv... I'm going to give you what you want... what we both want."

"Spike," she moaned, rolling as far as she could to face him, hips still thrusting desperately, legs tangled in the bedclothes. "Please, I need you," she whimpered, greedy eyes drinking in the sight of his muscular, beautiful body as he removed his clothes.

Cock jutting out, he strode to her and manueverd himself over her. The first thing he did was get rid of the leather strap, and replace it with his own flesh, rubbing his thickness hard against her. As he kissed her, he released the bindings holding one wrist in place, but left the other captive to the cuffs. "Want you to fuck me as hard as I'm going to fuck you," he explained, lowering his mouth and kissing her.

Desperate, Dawn attacked his mouth with her own, tongue thrusting and lips working to welcome his own into her mouth. She wasn't shy –or careful— with her teeth, either; nearly savage in her need for Spike, and Spike Now.

She was so wet and slick and ready for him, he could almost feel a vacuum pulling him inside her. Sliding his hand under her, he cupped her ass and lifted her up, thrusting at the same time. Inside... at last... with her around him, her muscles tightening and flexing... it was a little bit of heaven, and a little bit of hell.

She tasted so good to him, so wild and good... the professor might have liked her sweet side, but Spike liked the side only he could bring out in her. At least he liked to think that... silly as it was to be jealous of his old self, or the leather strap he'd used to get her worked up for him. That might be something he'd need to work on. In the meantime... he had more pressing matters to take care of.

"Oh, yes, God, Spike... that's so good," she groaned, her long legs coming up to wrap around his thrusting hips, and her ankles locking at the small of his back, heels digging into his ass with every stroke. Despite the handcuffs, restraining one arm to the wall, Dawn hugged Spike close with her legs, and pulled him deeper inside herself with every tightening of them, desperate for every fraction of her core to be filled by Spike.

She wrapped her fingers around the chain, around the bedframe, and pulled, lifting her body off the bed beneath him, hanging from him by legs and her grip on the restraints, her entire body swaying and rocking with every thrust.

He tried to get up on his knees, to be able to penetrate her even better, but the upper bunk kept hitting his back. "Fuck... next time, it's upper bunk," he complained, moving back and thrusting into her again.

She was something, his Dawn... he could feel every one of her muscles flexing as she twisted and pushed up against him as hard as he was pushing into her. It rammed home the fact that she wanted him as desperately as he wanted her, anytime... any place... any how.

"Even less-- head room-- up there--" she panted out, her body shuddering at the impact of his back against the bed frame, transmuted into a reverberation through their interlocked bodies. She gritted her teeth and threw her head back. "Please, please... fuck me, Spike!"

"My head needs lots of room," he grunted, sliding half way out of her then pushing back in. "Likes tight spaces too." He moved his mouth over the pulse point at the base of her neck, laving it with his tongue as he tried to match her racing pulse, thrusting in small, quick motions, then alternating with a long stroke.

She groaned at the new, tormenting rhythm, a wicked series of teasing followed by a deep thrust against her womb, and raked her nails across his back. Above her head, the other cuff clicked open, freeing her other wrist and letting her hold him even more tightly. "Call me a cheater all you like," she hissed, "I don't give a damn." She craned her head back even further, offering him unhindered access to her throat, and arched her hips even more tightly against his.

"Cheater," he said, his voice shaky and hoarse. To a vampire, her gesture signaled surrender... and the demon in him demanded he accept her surrender by sinking his fangs in her...

It was a battle he was learning to fight. Channeling his blood lust into his desire for her, he mercilessly thrust into her like a piston... ignoring the sound of their bodies slamming against the upper bunk... and the knowledge that she might be a bit bruised afterwards. Right now, he was focused on one thing... getting them to that place before they burned up.

"Ahh... ahhh," he groaned as he lifted her up, "that's it.... oh God... that's it." Her heat washed over him, he started to stiffen, to grind against her... pushing them over the edge as they fought to get closer, fought for one more kiss, one more touch... "Dawnie..."

"Spike," she panted into his mouth, managing to add, "I lov—" before her body shuddered violently around him, and a scream of pleasure stole the rest of the words as she convulsed into a powerful, bone-cracking orgasm.

"Me too," he groaned, pulling her close and rolling onto his back non-too-gracefully. "Me too..." this time, he locked his leg around each of hers, staying in her... needing the closeness.

Dawn rubbed her face along his chest, pressing gentle little kisses into the smooth alabaster skin, and smugly, if breathlessly, returned, "I know."

"Hey..." He chuckled. "Don't stop... never stop," he said looking down at her.

"You either," she said, snuggling closer.

*

They'd been in Rome for several days and holed up at a pension... a much nicer version of a motel ... and now Spike had his list ready. There were exactly eight mansions and palazzos on his list, and they were viewing the third one.

"This one is owned by Marco di Bellalugosi. Holds the title of Count, but he hasn't been seen for years. More accurately, he kills anyone who sees him..." Spike spread his hands. "He was bitten by a nasty demon, who gave him a disease. His face has degenerated into dead skin, and he takes it out on the beautiful people at night. Could easily take his place, and no one would know."

He passed her the details on the man's palace. "Lots of rooms for games."

Dawn examined the listing carefully; this one even had an indoor pool. Nice. She could definitely see making use of that with Spike on long summer afternoons... safely away from the burning rays of the sun! "I sure wish these guys had virtual tours of the places," she commented idly. "Then again, can't imagine they want people inside except for dinner," she quipped mordantly.

"If we narrow it down to the ones you might want, we can take tours," he said. "Can't promise we won't end up owning more than one that way. If they start a fight..." He pulled her close. "It's got a nice view, this one. And it’s central. I've heard it has exit tunnels."

Dawn curled up in his lap. "Ooh, nice amenity," she told him. "So long as we can trap 'em so that nothing sneaks in at night." She leaned up and planted a smacking kiss above his right eye. "Or in the daytime, really," she said. "But property taxes could be a problem if we acquire more than one." She shrugged, not at all bothered by the idea of plotting to steal nifty lairs from monsters via murder. "Though we could sell one for upkeep on the others, I guess."

"I think we'll find enough in the vaults to keep the property up. Or... he must have a lawyer... probably Wolfram and Hart handling it. So long as their bills get paid, they'll do whatever it takes to keep the property in his name... or change it... make us the legal owners," he said, liking the idea more and more.

"Well,” she said, "It has definite possibilities," wondering who Wolfram & Hart were. "But I want to look at the other listings too, and get inside the ones we really like, before we decide for sure."

"You'll make some man quite the little wife. I think I'd better snap you up before that happens." He stood up, taking her with him. Who made the pockets on these dusters so bloody deep?

A sound of sheer frustration broke from his lips until he found the elusive little ring, and held it up for her. "I'm not a man... a human ... and I don't have a heart or a soul to love you with, but I love you with everything else that I have... that I am," he said seriously.

Dawn's eyes widened, and softened, and she gave him the tenderest kiss imaginable. "I love you the same way," she whispered in a voice gone husky from emotion. "I love you forever, Spike."

He slipped the ring on her finger, then closed his hands around her hand as he leaned close, to kiss her again. "Let's go find us a house then."

"Okay," Dawn said, "but we have one small problem here."

"And what's that," he asked, skeptically.

Dawn went up on tiptoe, lacing her arms around his neck and planting kisses on his lips between each phrase. "How," she asked, "are you going... to carry me over the threshhold... if I have to invite you in first?"

The End

(A/N: I hope you enjoyed the ending of this story. Depending on the level of interest, we may add an adventure or something on a later date. Thanks for your comments to date)