Resolutions

Author's Note: Well folks... here's the long-awaited (by my few remaining readers!) conclusion of my tale. I still can't quite believe I've finally got there! Oh, and yes. I am planning a season 7 follow-on, but not for some time. I'm only at the planning stages at the moment although I might put a little 'prologue' up when I'm satisfied with it, just to tease you, you understand! Enjoy...


Chapter 18

Spike leant back against the wall and surveyed the room with the weary satisfaction of a job well done. He turned as Buffy appeared in the doorway and asked, “What do you think, love? Everything to your satisfaction?”

Buffy wandered around the room, smoothing out an invisible crease in the bedding, making a minute adjustment to the positioning of a pillow and lightly touching a couple of the photos arranged on the dresser. She then executed a happy little twirl before collapsing backwards onto the bed. “Yup!” She spread her arms out as if to show off the newly carpeted and redecorated master bedroom that now contained Spike’s old four-poster bed, Joyce’s sleigh bed having been moved across the landing.

“Mom never liked that boring beige wallpaper. It’s just… what with running the Gallery and coping with me and my Slayage and then Dawn, she never had a chance to change it. This cream with the rich hunter green is just as nice as the blue and cream in the other room, and luckily our dark blue drapes and bedding work just as well with the green. We’ll just have to remember to get some new drapes for our old room before Tara gets back in a couple weeks.”

From the adjoining room came a burst of feminine giggles that was loud enough to be heard over the pounding music that was barely within the volume the couple with super-hearing had stipulated was the maximum Dawn was allowed. Spike’s scarred eyebrow went up. “They are getting ready, right?”

Buffy chuckled, “Of course… they’re just excited.” She got up and smoothed the mussed covers out again. “I’ll just go check on them though, Xander’s going to be here soon.”

When there was a knock on the front door a few minutes later, Spike was the only one who was free to open it to admit the tall brunette. Three months of long hours of hard labour out in the Californian summer sun on the construction site of the new High School, combined with his continued grieving at the loss of his friend, had honed Xander down to a deeply tanned mass of solid muscle with no sign of the flab he’d accumulated during the previous year.

“You sure about this, mate?” the vampire asked. “Spending the weekend with those two… well, I’ve just had an afternoon of it and I’ve had enough. The giggling…” He shuddered dramatically. “If you’re prepared to take them on, you’re a braver man than I!”

Xander shrugged. “Well… we always meant to go... me and Will…” He paused for a second, any mention of the redhead still caused him to take a moment to recover his composure. “We always said we’d go when we’d both meet the height restriction for all the rides… but somehow we never got around to it.” He looked away from the vampire and gazed blindly out of the door, clearly fighting tears. “I know it won’t be the same without her, but with Dawn and Janice with me it’ll be as close as it’ll get… and I can always pretend...”

Spike wisely didn’t say anything, allowing the male Scooby time to pull himself together before yelling up the stairs, “Oy! Girls! Your escort is waiting!”

It didn’t take long for the two teenage girls to clatter down the stairs with their bulging backpacks and numerous other miscellaneous items they deemed essential for a weekend at Disneyland, followed more sedately by a thoughtful Buffy.

Dawn gushed enthusiastically at her sister, literally bouncing in excitement, “I can’t believe it… this is going to be the bestest birthday treat ever… If only you and Spike were coming too…”

Buffy shook her head and held up a hand in denial. “Oh no. You know Spike’s got that uh… allergy problem, and besides, you wouldn’t want us there cramping your style.”

Accepting Buffy’s protests with good grace, Dawn went on smugly, “Lisa is going to be green with envy. Last month her dad did this really lame ‘sweet sixteen’ party for her.” She gave a mocking chuckle. “He booked one of those children’s party entertainer guys who makes funny animals out of balloons! For a sweet sixteen! She’ll never live it down…”

“I’m still not sure…” Buffy began hesitantly.

Dawn looked at her in alarm. “Buffy! You can’t take it back now!”

Xander jumped in, familiar with the Slayer’s oft-expressed doubts. “She’s going to be perfectly safe, Buffy. You know she is. We’ve all got our cells and if any dem…”

He was interrupted by Dawn’s sharp elbow and urgent hiss as she furtively gestured towards Janice, who was waiting impatiently on the porch, openly ogling both Spike and Xander. “Not in front of the muggles!”

Xander hastily amended what he was saying, “Uh… that is… if any bad guys pop out of the woodwork looking for the Ke… um… to mug us, we can run like Hell and hide until you can come rescue us. OK?”

When the front door had finally closed behind the three of them, Buffy leant back against the wood with a huge sigh. After a few moments she said, “This feels so strange.”

Spike just cocked his eyebrow in query.

Buffy explained, “I mean… Giles is still in England ‘putting his affairs in order’… whatever that means… in between visiting Tara at the coven…” She frowned in disapproval, “…and spending time at Council HQ in London. Last time we spoke he said he had some ‘vital research to conduct’.”

She waved her hand vaguely after the departing vehicle. “Now Dawnie’s gone with Xan for her birthday treat and to celebrate passing her math and science summer courses so she can have a bit of fun before she starts High School over the Hellmouth… and won’t that be fun?... In... God… it’s less than two weeks time!”

She gestured at the currently empty-seeming cottage across the road. “Anya’s spending every moment at the Magic Box when she isn’t doing that popping in and out thing. I dunno whether she’s flitting across the ocean to see Giles all the time, the thought of which makes me really uncomfortable… or whether she’s doing massive amounts of vengeance, which makes me feel even more uncomfortable!” She looked up into Spike’s eyes and gave an apologetic little shrug. “It’s just you and me for a whole weekend. It feels… kinda weird.”

Spike curled his tongue behind his teeth and gave her his best lascivious leer. “Well now… just the two of us in an empty house, eh? Whatever can we do to pass the time…?”

Buffy’s eyes went very wide and she wagged an admonishing finger under his nose. “Oh! Oh no, buster. We’re not mussing up that lovely room!” She smirked and qualified, “Well… not yet, anyway.” Her smirk widened into a smug grin. “’Sides, I’ve got a plan.”

“A plan?”

“Yeah. A surprise plan.” Her face fell. “But first… Xan told me earlier that Willow’s parents have finally got around to putting her stone up. I feel I need to…”

Spike understood immediately and quickly closed the space between them, wrapping his arms around her comfortingly. As her arms tightened around his waist, he murmured softly into her hair, “Yeah, okay, sweetheart. As soon as the sun goes down we’ll go visit the witchlet.”

Spike hadn’t said anything when Buffy went around the house conscientiously checking the locks on all the doors and windows as they prepared to go out, merely putting her unusual caution down to the fact the house was going to be left empty for a couple of hours, something which didn’t happen very often. When he approached his bike and found it adorned with bulging panniers matching those on Buffy’s ‘Bonny’ however, he came to an abrupt halt and pointed at them in disgust, demanding, “What... are those doing there?”

She avoided his eyes and offered a bit too innocently, “Uh… nothing?”

“Slayer…?”

His suspicious tone prompted her to explain, “They’re part of the plan… the surprise plan.” She looked at him pleadingly. “Just… go with it… Please? For me?”

He grunted and sniffed in disapproval, but while she popped next door to speak to their long-suffering neighbour, he fastidiously checked the panniers were properly secured and balanced before sweeping his duster out flamboyantly as he mounted and started the motor in one fluid move.

A few minutes later they walked up to the simple headstone engraved with Willow’s name and dates. Seeing several little stones were placed on top of the polished granite marker, Buffy looked about her in the grass until she found a small polished pebble. She hesitantly stepped forward to add it to the growing pile. Guiltily she told Spike, “I guess that’s another of those Jewish customs I don’t know. Leaving rocks instead of flowers.”

He shrugged. He’d seen the little piles of stones on grave markers before, who hadn’t? Formerly, he’d never cared enough to wonder what they were for. “S’pose so. Don’t reckon it matters what you leave. It’s just a little symbol that you cared enough to come visit the grave, pay your respects. Shows she hasn’t been forgotten.”

“I guess…” Resting her hand on the smooth cool surface, she closed her eyes briefly and murmured sadly, “I’m so sorry, Will. We all miss you so much…” She failed to stifle a small sob.

Spike felt particularly useless. Shifting his feet and clearing his throat awkwardly he tried to think of something comforting to say, aware that there wasn’t really anything he could say that would console her for such a fresh loss. Almost against his will, he found himself reciting quietly:


“Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am in a thousand winds that blow
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.

I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.

I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am the birds that sing
I am in each gentle thing.

Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there. I did not die.”

Buffy heaved a massive sigh and whispered, “Oh… that’s beautiful. Will would like that… the thought that she’s drifting around, part of all those beautiful things. Part of nature. Her favourite saying in the weeks before…” her breath caught in her throat momentarily before she was able to continue, “…was that everything’s connected.” She slipped one arm around his waist and reached up to give him a quick kiss. “Thanks, Spike. Was that one of yours… uh… William’s?”

Spike almost choked in shock. “Uh… no, sweetheart. William never came up with anything as good as that. His poems were… well, you’ve seen most of them. They were awful. He used far too many clumsily used, badly rhymed highfaluting words that no-one knew the meaning of as he oh so earnestly tried to express emotions he had no personal experience of. No… far as I can recall, that one was written by Mary Frye, an American woman.”


****

Buffy’s ‘surprise plan’ was revealed when Spike followed her shiny motorcycle as it swept into the driveway of the Buena Vista hotel, straight past the main building and down to what they had come to think of as ‘their’ cottage.

Waiting by the door was a happily grinning Perpalla with their key cards.

As soon as Buffy had removed her helmet and shaken out her hair, the two women greeted each other with an affectionate hug.

When they parted, Perpalla transferred her attention to Spike. “Well now, Master William…” she mused, as she looked him up and down appraisingly. Nodding approvingly she declared, “Yes, I had my doubts, but it fits you well.” At Spike’s quizzical look, she explained, “The soul. I couldn’t think why you’d need it, but then Buffy told me about the prophecy.”

She turned back to Buffy with a fond smile. “He’s a bit special for a vampire, isn’t he, my dear?”

Buffy grinned. “I always thought so…” When Spike gaped at her in disbelief, she flushed slightly and sheepishly admitted, “Well.. okay. So I didn’t.” She hurried to assert, “I do now, though!”

Chuckling, the demon gave Buffy another brief hug and passed over their key cards, telling her firmly, “Now then, young lady. Remember you’re here on vacation. Relax and have fun!”

Buffy smiled fondly. “Yes ma’am.”

Perpalla then patted Spike on the arm. “Look after her, Master William. She’s special too.”

Spike grinned as the diminutive figure gave them a little wave and went off back towards the main hotel building, and murmured, “Yeah, I know.”

The panniers were quickly unloaded and as soon as the cottage door closed behind them, Spike dropped his share of the bags on the floor and advanced on Buffy, arms outstretched. He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, his leer firmly in place.

Buffy hastily backed away around a pile of bags and raised her hands to prevent him from grabbing her. “Hold up there, buster! I’m gonna unpack my stuff and hang it up properly, then I’m gonna change so we can go do the whole ‘couple on vacation’ thing for the rest of the evening.” Seeing Spike’s slumped shoulders and disappointed pout she wavered for a moment, but then squared her shoulders and insisted, “It’s Friday night. Date night. I want to go sit at one of those little tables on the beach and have a pretty coloured fruity drink with an umbrella in it… and possibly a cherry on a stick… and watch the people go by. Then I want us to take a leisurely stroll along the beach so everyone else can watch us go by and think ‘Don’t they look good together’. You know... like normal people.”

When Spike began to protest that they weren’t normal people, she folded her arms in front of her chest and raised her chin defiantly. “Well… until Sunday night, we’re gonna pretend. We’re a young couple away on vacation alone together for the first time… and we’re gonna do real vacation things. Get it?”

Shrugging resignedly, Spike grunted, “Got it.”

Considering the quantity of clothing and shoes Buffy had packed, it took her very little time to square her stuff away, then after laying a pair of smart black chinos and an ivory silk button-down shirt on the bed and imperiously instructing Spike to change into them, she disappeared into the bathroom with a bag.

Twenty minutes later they were ensconced at a small round table on the wide beachfront strand extending out from the main building of the hotel, outlined by a wooden pergola threaded with strings of multi-coloured festoon lights swaying gently in the sea breeze.

Buffy had her garish pink fruity drink with umbrella, cherry, curly straw and even a bright orange orchid embellishing it. In between sips she was gazing around in delight, commenting gaily upon the luxurious surroundings, the passing people and the clothes and jewellery they were wearing.

Spike sipped at his imported beer, watching her excited animation with indulgent amusement as she immersed herself in the lively holiday atmosphere surrounding them. Although her hairstyle and make-up weren’t nearly as expensively contrived as the majority of the fashionably dressed women displaying themselves for the approval of their peers, he privately had no doubt she was the most naturally beautiful woman present.

Her shining hair fell over her shoulders in soft waves, her face had that golden glow that only graces the young and healthy, enhanced by the skilfully applied kohl around her eyes and a touch of tinted lip gloss. In contrast to the uncomfortable-looking ‘designer’ outfits all around them, her dress was simply cut but flattered her faultless slender figure perfectly.

When she had emerged from the bathroom wearing a plain, deep blood red sleeveless shift that clung to her figure from the high slash neckline to its hem at mid-thigh, he had growled appreciatively. Flushing with pleasure at the effect she was having on him, she had extended her arms to the sides and twirled on the spot, showing off the deep cowled back neckline that draped nearly to her waist, displaying an expanse of tanned toned flesh.

He had assured her, “You’re gorgeous, sweetheart. Good enough to eat. I’ll be the envy of all the blokes there.” Finally accepting her earnest desire for a ‘date’, he stopped resisting her wishes, hurriedly shed his jeans and t-shirt and donned the clothes she had set out for him, then formally extended his arm for her to take as he proudly escorted her along the illuminated footpath towards the sounds of revelry.

After they’d finished their drinks, Buffy stood and extended her hand, gesturing expectantly to the small decked dance floor. With a resigned roll of his eyes, he obediently led her out into a slow dance to the background music being piped through speakers from the restaurant inside the hotel.

As they swayed to the romantic music, Buffy’s arms went up around Spike’s neck and his hands slipped down her form to cup her behind, crushing them together so that his burgeoning erection pressed into her stomach. He hesitated for a moment, then once more stroked over her waist and bottom, finding the curve of her hips lacking the indentation he would have expected from her underwear. He cleared his throat and innocently whispered, “Did we have another packing oversight, Buffy?”

Chuckling quietly, she explained, “I can’t wear panties with this dress. VPL.”

“Huh?”

“Visible Panty Line.” She nodded almost imperceptibly towards a thirty-something woman on the other side of the dance floor whose garishly striped Lycra dress appeared at least two sizes too small for her and clearly displayed the outlines of her substantial underwear.

The thrilling revelation that she was walking around in public sans knickers again, meant it took all Spike’s meagre store of will-power to resist the urge to throw her to the ground and ravish her there and then in front of all the other holidaymakers. He closed his eyes and rubbed his rampant erection against her belly, groaning, “God, woman. You’re killing me here…”

When the current song finished, Buffy drew away from him with a satisfied grin, glancing down for a moment to take in the tent in his chinos that demonstrated his eagerness. She casually rearranged the drape of his shirt to disguise it as she led him off the dance floor, confidently declaring that it was time for the romantic beach walk.

She slipped off her sandals and slung them over one finger by the sling-back straps and gracefully jumped down onto the loose sand of the beach, glancing over her shoulder to make sure he was following.

Their fingers interlaced as they slowly strolled along the shore, gradually leaving the brightly lit hotel complex behind them and becoming enveloped in darkness, the new moon only a tiny sliver of silver among the stars that would have been insufficiently bright to light their way had they not both benefitted from enhanced night vision.

As Spike’s arousal gradually lost its immediate urgency, they didn’t feel any need to break into the peaceful night with speech. Buffy’s calm contentment suffused their Bond as the low waves broke with a whisper on the sand beside them and the only other sounds were the quiet noises made by night creatures going about their business and her even breathing and heartbeat.

They’d gone nearly a mile down the coast and left the lights and noise of the hotel far behind before Spike became aware of a growing excited anticipation creeping into the Bond. As he turned to ask what she was thinking, Buffy started steering them up the slope towards the dunes where a faint glow was lighting the dark sky, explaining with a smug smile, “Time for part two of the surprise plan…”

In a small hollow at the edge of the dunes at the top of the beach, Spike surveyed the setting that had clearly been prepared for them. There was a large thick rug spread out on the smoothed sand. In one corner was a pile of fluffy beach towels and a couple of the hotel’s terry robes, a wickerwork picnic hamper and an insulated cooler. Around the edge were arranged several lit candles in hurricane shades casting a flickering glow over the scene.

He looked up to meet Buffy’s anxious gaze. “You don’t mind, do you?” She asked hesitantly. “It’s just that when we were here in February we said we’d…”

Spike smiled and took her in his arms, kissing away her doubts. “I love it, sweetheart.” Drawing her down onto the thick rug, he gestured at the cooler and hamper. “Gonna have some dinner then?” He opened the hamper and started examining the contents.

She shook her head. “Nuh huh. Not yet.” She stood up and with a little shimmy her dress landed in a puddle around her feet, leaving her as naked as the day she was born. She smirked teasingly, “First comes the traditional moonlight swim…”

She set off down the beach at a slow walk, glancing back over her shoulder and giving a seductive wiggle of the hips as invitation when she saw him still sitting gaping after her in astonishment.

It took mere seconds for Spike to come to his senses, tear off his clothes careless of scattered buttons and damaged zips, and give chase. Shrieking with laughter, Buffy fled into the ocean, leaping nimbly over the incoming waves until she was thigh deep in the water. She then dived cleanly into an incoming swell, her vampire in hot pursuit.

They gambolled in the warm Pacific, racing and chasing each other through the low surf. When they made contact they twined around each other, rubbing their bodies together like seals and caressing each other as their mutual arousal built once more.

The carefree teasing touches and unhurried foreplay might have gone on indefinitely, both of them revelling in the unique physical freedom the situation afforded them, but it came to an abrupt halt when Buffy misjudged a wave and her joyous laugh devolved into a choking splutter when she accidentally inhaled a small amount of water.

Feeling the need for a cool drink to soothe her irritated throat, Buffy signalled her intention to return to their picnic site and walked out of the sea, bending to one side to wring her hair out as she went.

Following a few feet behind, Spike thoroughly enjoyed the view. The starlight glistened upon her wet figure, highlighting every curve and throwing deep shadows into every hollow, giving her the appearance of an animated impressionist portrait of an entrancing water nymph.

For the second time that night he was moved to recite a favourite poem, this time to himself:


“She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.”

Buffy paused and looked over her shoulder in wonderment, causing Spike to shuffle his feet in the sand and look down, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. He had forgotten for a moment that she would be able to hear him.

When it became apparent he wasn’t going to continue, she gently urged, “Please Spike… don’t stop. I think it’s beautiful…” she smiled and shrugged self-consciously, adding, “…and really flattering.”

He reluctantly nodded and waved her on, there was no way he could serenade her with Byron’s sweet words while she was watching him. As soon as she had turned her back and resumed her stroll up the beach, he continued, slightly louder now that he knew he was speaking to an appreciative audience:


“One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every… golden tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling place.”

They reached the rug before Spike had finished so as Buffy sat and retrieved a bottle of water to sip, he knelt beside her and gestured at her features to illustrate the words as he quietly concluded:


“And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!”

Buffy set the bottle of water aside with a contented sigh and reached out her arms. “That was lovely, William.”

Spike pouted sulkily. “’m not William. Still Spike.”

She let her unexpectedly empty arms fall. “You have to admit that since the soul you’ve been different. Kinda… mellower. It’s like it’s smoothed off the rough edges a bit making you a bit more Williamish and little less… Spiky.”

He protested petulantly. “Don’t feel all that different.”

Sensing his insecurity, she smiled fondly and reached out to caress his cheek. “I still love you, you dope.” She smirked teasingly. “It’s even easier now, ‘cos you’re not quite as annoying…”

Spike snorted. “Oh, I can still be annoying, love,” he assured her with an evil chuckle, tugging on her ankles until she toppled over and covering her with his body. Instead of kissing her as she’d expected, however, he dug his fingers into her ribs and began tickling her mercilessly.

Buffy giggled hysterically, writhing in his grasp as he tormented her until she couldn’t take any more. “Okay, stop!” she eventually gasped. “I admit it! You’re just as annoying as ever!”

Spike didn’t release her immediately, only relenting when her stomach gave a loud hungry gurgle. He nodded in satisfaction, insisting “Yeah.. I’m the Big Bad, and don’t you forget it, little girl!” He then sat up, leaving her in a flushed, panting sprawl on the rug as he started unpacking the food that had been prepared for them.

Having recovered her breath, Buffy sat up and finger-combed her damp hair out of her face, then leaned forward to help herself but was prevented by Spike batting her hand away with an “Nuh huh!”. He proceeded to select the choicest morsels and feed her by hand, using the time she spent chewing to lavish kisses and caresses on her exposed flesh, occasionally sampling a mouthful of a certain delicacy himself to find the tastiest items for her.

The meal quickly turned into an extended interlude of foreplay with Buffy occasionally forgetting to chew as she closed her eyes and luxuriated in his loving touches and attempted to return them. It was only once Spike was satisfied she’d eaten sufficient, however, that he allowed her to reciprocate.

They made love slowly and tenderly, quiet gasps and moans the only sounds to be heard above the susurration of the waves on the shore and the whisper of flesh against flesh.

When they lay back, spent, luxuriating in the afterglow while continuing to exchange lingering kisses and languid touches as they gradually came down from their mutual high, it was Buffy who broke the silence.

“Spike, I need… That is… You haven’t…” She paused and took a deep breath before continuing determinedly, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed that since you’ve had the soul, you haven’t fed from me.”

Spike tried to draw away from her in dismay but she prevented his retreat by grasping his arm then winding her body around his, pinning him to the rug. “I know you felt you needed the soul to help you feel more like a man for me, and I understand that, I really do, so I’ve let it go.”

Her voice dropped to a sympathetic murmur. “But I didn’t fall in love with a man, I fell in love with a vampire. I miss my vampire, Spike. I miss the snarky temper, the impulsive violence on patrol, and most of all…” She lightly trailed her fingers over his forehead and lips, “I miss the lumpies and the fangs and those pretty yellow eyes.”

Jaw tensed, Spike tried to turn his face away from her but she gripped his chin firmly and forced him to meet her eyes.

“I miss the way you’d bite me and our love-making would turn into a wild ride of unbridled passion. I miss the special connection your bite use to give us, Spike.” With huge eyes brimming with of unshed tears she pleaded, “Please can I have my vampire back?”

Spike forced his demon to the surface and felt the bones in his face shift as his fangs descended. “Like this?” He asked angrily. “Is this what you want?”

She nodded slowly but qualified this response with a whispered, “But not in anger, Spike. Never in anger. In passion. Remember that day after the Claiming? That wonderful crazy ride we went on together? We laughed and celebrated our love, our Bond. We weren’t angry or upset by it. Can’t we have that joy back?”

Spike’s head fell back, his eyes closed in sad resignation. Sighing deeply he protested helplessly, “I wanted so badly to be a man for you…”

“I know you did, honey, It was a huge thing you did for me and I love you even more for it… but I’m still going to need you to have your daily sip of Buffyblood to set you up for emergency portal runs. That hasn’t changed, despite how quiet it’s been on the demon front recently.” She smiled wistfully, “And sometimes… just sometimes… I need you to let my energizer vampy out to play with me ‘cos I love him too, and I miss him so much.”

Spike took a few moments to consider her request. When he stopped and thought about it, it was flattering in a way. He realised that since he’d had the soul returned, he’d lost his earlier conviction that she’d loved the unsouled version of him. He’d allowed himself to convince himself that only now he possessed a soul, (he angrily silenced his thoughts when he mentally added the words: ‘like Angel’ to his musings) could she give him her full love.

The sense of her emotions that he received through the Bond was now so much richer, so much more complex that he’d assumed it reflected her changed feelings for him, when of course had he taken a second to examine the Bond properly and take his newly souled nature into account, he would have noticed immediately that of course it was he who had changed. His love for her was fuller, richer and far less selfish while his understanding of her emotions had increased dramatically.

He came to the conclusion that he had been doing her a great injustice. If she really missed his previous ‘evil’ mannerisms and their frantic couplings when he freely utilised fangs and claws and she responded just as roughly, then she must have truly loved him before.

He allowed a deep satisfied sigh to escape as he turned to meet her anxious eyes with a smile. “I was right all along, wasn’t I, Slayer? You really do need a little monster in your man.”

“Yeah…” She breathed with a relieved sigh, stroking his ridged brow. “There may be a bit more man in there now, and I do love the man, but I still love the monster too, and I need him back.”

Spike abruptly allowed his demon to recede and resumed his human features. “Right then,” he began decisively, standing up and rummaging through their discarded clothing. He tossed Buffy’s dress to her before drawing on his trousers. Grinning widely he continued, “If we’re gonna spend the rest of the night shagging like rabid bunnies, let’s go do it in comfort, without all this itchy salt and sand all over us.”

With a happy little laugh, Buffy stood and pulled on her dress then started looking around for her sandals. Her search was interrupted by Spike, who spun her to face him, wearing his familiar leer. “You’ve got it on back to front, Buffy… not that I’m objecting, you understand…” He ran one hand down her cleavage, sliding his fingers under the edge of the fabric to caress a half-exposed breast and tease a barely concealed nipple.

“Well, as it happens,” she told him seductively, “the woman in the store told me it could be worn either way ‘round, depending upon how daring I was feeling.”

Spike gave an appreciative nod. “I like it… but you’re never wearing it this way ‘round except for me… in private. Got it?”

Buffy gasped as Spike’s free hand slid up her thigh and under the hem of the dress to explore her moist centre, hastily agreeing, “Right… got it…” before he turned away again, snatched up his shirt and shoes, passed her sandals over and grasped her by the hand, urging her, “Come on then, sweetheart. Let’s get rid of this sand, then you’re gonna get a taste of demon you’re never going to forget!”

Giggling excitedly, Buffy allowed him to tug her into an all-out run, just managing to retain enough breath to gasp out, “I’m gonna need some industrial strength cream rinse, honey. I’d forgotten what seawater does to my hair…”


****

By the time they tumbled out of the bathroom with freshly scrubbed bodies and Buffy’s hair restored to its customary squeaky cleanness, they were in a fever of want. The shared shower had been the perfect place to rekindle their mutual arousal with unlimited warm water and soft suds on hand.

Spike allowed Buffy to push him back onto the bed, content to follow her lead despite his engorged flesh aching with need for her. She climbed up to sit astride his thighs, one hand splayed on his washboard stomach to steady her while the other wrapped tightly around his erection. She looked up into his eyes and urged him, “Change…”

With a playful little growl, Spike encouraged his demon to the fore, allowing his face to change as well as other lesser known features of his vampirism. His penis grew in Buffy’s grasp, becoming both thicker and longer. It developed pronounced ribs circling its length and a massive head, purple with borrowed blood.

Buffy licked her lips murmuring eagerly, “Now that’s what I’m talking about…” She squeezed him tightly then bent to bestow a long lick from base to tip, finishing the manoeuvre with a twirl of her tongue around the weeping head which forced a needy moan from Spike’s lips.

She looked up to meet his yellow eyes as with a sultry smile she positioned him at her sopping entrance and ever so slowly lowered herself onto him until he was fully sheathed within her heat. She took a moment to accustom herself to the massive intrusion before lifting up slightly and giving a little wriggle before settling down again more comfortably. She then leant forward, sweeping her hair to one side and offering her bared neck to his fangs, whispering huskily, “Now, please baby.”

Allowing himself to release his iron self-restraint, Spike gripped a warm hip with one hand while the other tangled in the hair at the nape of Buffy’s neck, drawing her closer so that he could lave his mark with his raspy tongue. Buffy shuddered and whimpered at the stimulation.

“You really want it all, Buffy?”

“Yes… Oh God, yes!”

Easing Buffy to one side, careful to maintain their deep intimate connection, Spike rolled them so that he lay over her. He slowly eased himself half way out of her body as he once more teased the small silver scar on her neck with his rough demon’s tongue. Then in one abrupt movement he rammed back into her and simultaneously sank his fangs deep into her flesh.

Buffy yelped in surprise then moaned in ecstasy as he drew his first mouthful of her sweet blood.

Spike’s eyes rolled back in his head as the first taste of Slayer blood hit his tongue and he instantly mentally berated himself for resisting Buffy’s increasingly overt hints for so long. How could he have thought he could live without sharing this wondrous experience with his Mate? Cautiously he drew a second mouthful and savoured the super-powered life force together with the love and trust that were conveyed within the vitalising fluid, before swallowing.

He stopped drinking but kept his fangs firmly embedded in Buffy’s neck as he started to move his hips. He began slowly but as the energy from the blood he had ingested infused his being, he sped up until the two muscular bodies on the bed slammed together repeatedly, causing the couple to grunt in unison at the force of each collision.

Buffy’s hands scrabbled at his arms and shoulders as she tried to pull him even closer, her nails leaving red welts on his milky-white skin which lasted mere seconds before fading away. She raised her legs high, so she could lock her ankles behind his back, allowing him to penetrate her even deeper. She panted between grunts, “Yeah… Oh, yeah… Oh God… Yeah… Harder, honey…”

After a few moments, a low wail started, turning rapidly into a crescendo of volume and pitch until a shrill shriek burst from Buffy’s gaping mouth and her inner muscles clamped down on Spike’s erection as she surrendered to the waves of pleasure washing over her.

Closing his eyes and grimacing briefly in a futile attempt to resist the rapture filling the Bond and stave off his own climax, Spike thrust once, twice, three times more before giving up the struggle and roaring his completion.

He stilled, carefully extracting his fangs from Buffy’s neck but remaining in game face as he raised his head to grin smugly at her, licking his blood-smeared lips and fangs as he cocked his scarred eyebrow and challenged her, “Had enough, love?”

Buffy shook her head frantically as she gasped and panted, desperately trying to fill her straining lungs. She panted weakly, “More… Oh God I need more of that!”

With a faint whimper of loss, Spike eased their bodies apart and moved to stand beside the bed. Buffy began to protest until he gripped her hips firmly and flipped her over onto her stomach, positioning her at the edge of the bed with her hips raised.

Giggling happily as she realised what he intended, Buffy spread her legs wide in invitation and braced her hands and knees firmly on the mattress to resist being pushed across the bed.

Without pause, Spike once more entered his Mate and began slowly rocking his hips. He lightly held one rounded hip to steady himself, sending his free hand roaming over the overheated skin exposed to his gaze, teasing her back and buttocks with the very tips of his claws before reaching underneath her to pay attention to her soft stomach and breasts, roughly tweaking her erect nipples the way he knew she enjoyed.

When eventually Buffy gasped urgently, “Harder!” he grinned happily, gripped both hips firmly and forcefully slammed her back against him repeatedly as he began hammering into her receptive body. He looked down and watched in ever increasing excitement as his engorged flesh, slick with their combined fluids, was in turn engulfed then released by the glistening pink folds of her sex.

Throwing his head back in abandon he increased the force and speed of his thrusts even more, yelling exuberantly, “This enough demon for you, Slayer?”

Only to burst into joyous laughter when she gleefully urged him, “More!.. More!”

Needing no further encouragement, he let go and filled her again, their mingled juices flowing freely down her thighs. Sensing that she would need further stimulation to join him, he slowed his movements slightly and released one hip to free a hand to fist in her hair, pulling her roughly up so he could bite deeply into her shoulder. Using his fangs to anchor her in place, he began stroking and teasing her belly and breasts as she arched her back and wound one arm around his neck, sending her other hand to where they were joined to rub furiously at the swollen bundle of nerves that was aching for friction as the rhythm of their coupling took on a renewed urgency.

Within seconds she was shuddering and crying out in orgasm, taking Spike with her once more as he took advantage of the sexual stamina her blood provided, confident that he had as many climaxes in store as he could ever wish for.

They collapsed together onto the bed, laughing as Spike gently retracted his fangs and allowed his erection to slip from her body so they could lie side by side, both needing a few moments to recover before they decided which variation upon an erotic theme to try next.

For the remainder of the night they utilised every surface in the room, vertical and horizontal, as support for their exploits, causing the walls to shake and several ornaments and pictures to tumble unnoticed to the floor.

Finally, shortly before dawn they ended up on the rug before the unlit fire lying face to face with Buffy’s upper leg pulled over Spike’s hip as they rocked almost unnoticeably together to maintain the stimulation of their intimate connection as they shared long lingering kisses.

Spike still sported his fangs which despite how careful they were, occasionally pricked or grazed Buffy’s lips and tongue. Both of them knew from experience however that such tiny wounds would heal within seconds as if they’d never been and the pain Buffy suffered as a consequence was negligible, only adding to her excitement.

At long last, Buffy broke the kiss and swept her tousled hair to one side, offering fondly, “One more time honey… then I’m really gonna need some sleep…”

With a purely male self-satisfied grin, Spike murmured, “Finally wore you out, did I, beloved?”

When she responded with a contented, “Looks like…” he nuzzled into her neck and slipped his razor sharp incisors into the tiny silvery scar that was his mark, taking a minute sip that was just enough to draw them easily over the edge into paradise yet again.

This time when they drew apart, as Buffy’s heartbeat and breathing returned to normal she snuggled into his side and began dozing off. After allowing his sated demon to recede and resuming his human features, Spike waited a few minutes until he had the confidence that he could stand without his legs giving way. Then he gathered her up and transferred her to the bed, despite her half-hearted protest, “Shower.. I need a shower… I’m all icky sticky…”

He chuckled as he slid into the bed beside her, drawing the sheet over them and taking her in his arms, “But I love it when you’re all icky sticky, Buffy.” When she crinkled her nose in disgust, he relented, “Shower later, love. Sleep now.”

“Later…” She mumbled sleepily. “Yeah… I can go with…” she broke off with a wide yawn, smacked her lips, nuzzled into his neck and was asleep, followed mere seconds later by her vampire.


****

He was running… terrified for his life. No… her life. Spike didn’t question the fact that he was a girl, a very young girl. All he knew was that she had to get away!

Paradoxically, he watched the slender dark haired figure in purple race across an empty square he recognised from a brief sojourn in Istanbul, along an alley and around a corner before clambering up the fire escape conveniently positioned at the side of a building… while at the same time experiencing her overwhelming panic.

Her breath came rasping in her throat and her heart pounded so hard she thought it might burst out of her chest as she scrabbled for hand holds and hauled herself up onto the apex of the tiled roof, thinking she’d eluded her creepy pursuers at last… until one appeared from nowhere in front of her and shoved her roughly down to crash to the ground, where she lay winded and in pain.

Then there was a dark figure in a robe and a wicked looking wide bladed curved knife glinting in the moonlight as it descended towards her chest… and then there was agonising pain… and then there was nothing but darkness.

Spike woke with a horrified gasp, the words, “You think you know what you are? What’s to come? You haven’t even begun…” ringing in his ears, to find Buffy lurching awake next to him, her sobs shaking the bed as she reached out for him desperately.

“Oh God…” She gasped tearfully as he enveloped her in his arms. “That poor girl… she was so scared…”

Spike’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “Little dark haired girl in Istanbul? That girl? Someone… or something… pushed her off the roof and stabbed her?”

Buffy’s tears forgotten, she gaped up at him in shock. “You saw…?”

He shrugged the redundant question away, confirming, “Yeah. Felt her fear, felt her pain, then felt her die…”

“Oh God… it must be the Bond.” She whispered in wonderment, explaining, “That was a Slayer dream, honey. Looks as if from now on you get the dubious joy of sharing my weird and wonderful Slayery warnings.” She grimaced in frustration. “They never seem to make much sense until Giles can decipher them.”

“Didn’t seem to be much there that needed deciphering, Slayer. Some girl got offed by a mysterious figure in a dark robe with a nasty knife.”

Buffy pulled out of his arms and clambered out of bed to rummage in one of her bags. “I’m just gonna write it all down in my Slayer dream journal before the details fade... then I’m gonna have to call Giles.”

She got back into bed and wrote furiously in her notebook, only pausing to ask, “You said it was Istanbul. Are you certain, honey?”

“Yeah, recognised the square she ran through.”

Once she’d stabbed the page with a full stop and sat back with a weary sigh, Spike suggested. Why not wait ‘til Monday to ring the Watcher, Slayer? If it really was one of your Slayer dreams, the girl’s already dead. ‘S’not as if there’s anything anyone can do now and Rupert’s only gonna go into research mode and take up hours with useless questions. No need to disturb our weekend away any more than it has been.”

“I guess…” She admitted with a yawn.

He drew her down back under the covers and urged her, “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s catch a couple hours more sleep before you go out and play in the sun while I sit and ogle from the shade…”

She smirked into the pillow and teased, “I’ve got the teeniest bikini you’ve ever seen…” She turned her head briefly to jokingly warn him, “You’d better only ogle me, buster. I don’t want your horny eyes wandering over just any semi-naked girl out there…”

Spooning comfortably against her back and entwining their fingers between her soft breasts, he snuffled into her hair sleepily and assured her, “Don’t fret, love. I’ve only got horny eyes for you…”


End


Endnotes: The poem Spike recites at Willow’s grave is ‘officially’ by Mary Elizabeth Frye (formerly attributed to Native American sources).

The poem he recites to Buffy on the beach is by Lord Byron, published in 1815 (I’ve taken a slight liberty with the colour of the lady in question’s hair. I’m certain Spike would amend the wording to suit the lady for whom it was recited).