For Hope.

Spike sighed and got up again. 2:15 am, and his stomach was rumbling. “Sod this,” he mumbled. “Can’t even be bothered to go out and catch my dinner.” He shrugged on his duster wearily and checked the fridge, pulling out a bag of pigs’ blood with a grimace. He bit it open and swallowed the cold liquid as quickly as he could, trying not to taste it. Then, lighting a cigarette, he opened his door and went out into the cold morning air. He found himself a tree to shelter under while he smoked, hoping for a demon or vampire to show up, just so he could relieve some tension. Sadly, his wish wasn’t granted. He sighed. “Come on evil, take a walk,” he muttered. “It’s a beautiful mornin’.”

*****

Buffy growled and sat up. “Stupid slayer inner clock. Means I can’t sleep even when I’m done patrolling!” She got out of bed and got dressed again. Unconsciously, she picked up a red top, Spike’s favourite colour, and put it on. Then she pulled her tightest leather pants on, her trainers, grabbed a stake and went out. “Right. Gonna kill me some vamps.”

She wandered into the graveyard, muscles ready for action. Cautiously, she moved between the graves, carefully checking for disturbances in the soil. Just when she thought she was out of luck, she heard a noise, a cough, to be precise, and her slayer senses started to pick up a vampire’s presence. Silently she stalked towards the sound, keeping low. She had a feral grin on her pretty face as she prepared to jump on the vampire… “Spike?” she yelled as she leapt on him and knocked him to the ground. He was on his feet immediately and facing off with the Slayer. “Well, well, blondie. Time to play?” he smirked, vamping out. She punched him in the face and he returned with a huge kick to her stomach. She ducked his next blow and jabbed him in the chest, before kicking his legs out from underneath him. He rolled to his feet, growling, and leapt at her, punching her face and knocking her to the ground. She pushed him off and kicked him ferociously, and he replied with fists to her stomach like a professional boxer. Silently, they stood back from each other warily.

Buffy was bleeding from a scratch on her forehead caused by Spike’s fangs. Spike had a bloody nose. Both were bruised already. Spike spoke first, voice thickened by his vampire guise. “Well, Slayer. Nice to fight you as usual, but why are you here? You’ve already patrolled.” As he spoke, he moved back to human form.

“Couldn’t sleep. Wanted to squash some evil.” She folded her arms.

“Yeah, well, looks like the vampires around here are planning something else…like a bake sale.”

“And why aren’t you planning an evil bake sale?” she asked sarcastically.

“Because I can’t cook,” was the quick reply.

She punched him again before walking calmly off.

*****

Spike held his nose before licking the blood from his fingers. “Thank you, you silly bint,” he muttered. “It was a simple comment. Not even insulting to you!” With a sigh, he shook his head to clear it and decided on a walk. Fighting always made him restless and slightly horny. More so when he actually killed something. Pain was his aphrodisiac. He wrinkled his nose to see if it was broken and began to walk in the opposite direction to Buffy. But he couldn’t keep away for long, and before he knew it, he was walking back in the direction she’d taken. He was still surprised when he literally walked into her, however, standing under the shadow of a large monolith and waiting for him. “Now what?” she snapped.

“What?”

She raised an eyebrow and glared at him. “You’re following me, you annoying little bloodsucker.”

Spike sighed and thought, God, how I wish she’d just shut up. “So because I happen to be in the same graveyard as you, I have to be following your pert little ass?” I can’t believe I just said that, he thought to himself, mortified.

Buffy looked like she’d been slapped. “Huh?”

“Never mind,” Spike tried to backtrack.

“I heard that! You were looking at my ass! You disgusting THING!”

“Sticks an’ stones, luv,” Spike drawled.

Buffy punched him in the mouth and Spike reeled back. He swallowed a wad of blood, punched her back and ducked her next blow easily, as her vision was clouded with tears. She sobbed loudly in rage and grief as she started to beat on his chest, her strength ebbing away slowly until she was hardly touching him.

“Why are you crying, pet?” Spike asked in terror. “Hey, Buffy! I didn’t mean the ass thing, really! Stop crying!”

Buffy looked up at him in utter confusion. “Why do you care?” she sobbed.

Spike frowned. Haven’t the foggiest, luv, he thought, and awkwardly reached out his arm to encircle Buffy. She buried her face into his shoulder and cried louder, so Spike held her closer and stroked her hair, muttering soothing words and rocking her slightly. Anything to shut her up, he thought unconvincingly. Buffy didn’t speak, her sobs gradually subsiding until she was completely silent against his chest, fists knotted into his shirt.

Abruptly, she pushed herself away from him and wiped the tears from her eyes. “Thank you,” she said hoarsely. She refused to meet his gaze, instead studying a piece of lint on Spike’s T-shirt.

“It’s alright,” he mumbled in reply, trying to get her to look at him. “Why…what’s the matter?”

She shook her head and tried to turn away, but Spike caught her arm and pulled her round to face him. “No, Slayer. Don’t pretend I don’t exist. I can hear you.”

“What does that mean?” she whispered, and Spike shrugged.

“Dunno.”

Buffy sighed and wiped her face again. Spike perched on a tombstone and waited, and silently, Buffy joined him. What the fuck? Spike thought as she began to talk.

*****

Buffy was completely drained, unable to even make a sarcastic comment as Spike waited for her. Trembling, she sat beside him, trying to gather her thoughts and not thinking about why she was telling an evil vampire her problems like she was on Trisha or something.

“It’s…hard. Being alone? Being the only one who knows what I’m going through…it tears me apart sometimes. And sometimes I just want to run away from danger, but I have to keep fighting it. And I’m not allowed to be scared, or hurt, or upset. I have to be strong for the others. Because I have to protect them.”

Spike nodded his bleached head silently, his deep eyes seeming to understand, or at least to really listen to her problems. He watched her as she shook again, but she managed to control herself.

Finally, he spoke, head tilted to one side. “I can’t understand the not wanting to fight,” he said softly, “But the loneliness? That I get.”

Buffy waited for him to continue. Every muscle in her body told her to run away, that she shouldn’t be here with this strange, quiet Spike. But she willed herself to stay. He’d listened to her.

*****

Spike licked his lips and waited for her to leave. She’d said her bit; now she’d run off. Probably beat him up extra tomorrow. But she didn’t, and he found himself unsure where to begin.

“Well...uh...bein’ a vampire isn’t all blood and fun,” he said finally. She didn’t move or say anything, so he swallowed and continued more confidently.

“We’re a lonely bunch. We don’t usually hang around in packs; we like to be on our own. I’ve been alone for years. Even when I’m with people, like Dru, and even Harm, I’m still not all with them. I still feel alone.”

Buffy nodded.

“Your friends don’t like me, you don’t like me, hell, sometimes I don’t even like myself. I’m alone when I hang around your Scoobies, and when I’m with you. An’ I know I’m not even worth bothering about.”

Buffy frowned and after a moment’s silence said very softly, “I never knew you felt like that, Spike.”

Spike sniffed and adopted his indifferent air again, with the ease of a hundred years practice. “Well, don’t like to show it off much. Spike, the Nancy boy vampire. Not really a reputation I need.”

Buffy actually smiled. I made her smile? Spike thought in wonder. He tried to shrug the thought off and lowered his head almost shyly.

*****

God, he has beautiful eyes, Buffy thought in awe. And he actually listened, and My God! He can talk without being sarcasm personified. She suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to touch those full lips, slightly parted and almost begging to be kissed. She tried to force the thought back but failed miserably. Her pulse quickened as she watched him, his gorgeous blonde head slightly turned away and his eyes half closed, staring at the ground silently. Through the leather of his jacket, she could see the faint outline of lean, toned muscles, and his hands were a glimpse of the smooth ivory skin beneath the jacket. Spike raised his eyes slowly, confusion etched onto his perfect face. He only said one word, “Buffy?” so softly and unsurely that she almost died just hearing it. Silently, she reached out one trembling hand and touched his bottom lip with her thumb. He shuddered violently, the tremor rippling through his whole body and leaving shock in his eyes, which slowly gave way to an uncertain ecstasy. She moved her hand onto his cheek, tracing the bones lightly with one finger and caressing softly with the others. He shivered again, the contact seemingly too much for him to bear for much longer.

*****

Spike’s mind whirled in frantic emotion. What the hell? His brain screamed, all the while his body yielded willingly to her soft caresses. He felt the shudder run through him, felt an irrepressible wave of desire for her that couldn’t be hidden. He wondered what had possessed her to do this, and why it felt as though a missing piece of him had just been fitted back into place so smoothly and surely that it was as though it had never gone.

He leant his head into the touch, felt her hand move to his hair and run light, gentle fingers through it. He sighed unknowingly, and closed his eyes briefly. His stolen blood surged through his body, seeming to sing as every nerve tingled for her. The Slayer. He opened his eyes again and looked into hers. The calm need he saw there made him shiver even more as his body became overwhelmed with lust and need of its own. He took a sharp intake of breath as she moved her head closer to his, leaning in and kissing him very lightly on his lips before pulling back slightly. His eyes widened in shock and pleasure as she looked at him, her soft blonde hair blowing slightly in the breeze and her large, liquid eyes seeming to drink in his appearance.

*****

Buffy shook when she brushed her lips on Spike’s, feeling an electric current jolt through her that she knew he felt too. It had felt almost like two halves joining after an eternity of waiting and wanting. She gasped quickly and lifted one of his hands, pressing it to her cheek and revelling in the coolness of it. All the while, the strange, adoring look never left his eyes, and the wonderful open pout of his lips didn’t fade. She kissed each of his fingers slowly, keeping eye contact. He mumbled something and she strained to hear. “What?” she asked softly.

“Beautiful. You’re beautiful, Slayer.”

She felt him stiffen under her touch, like he thought she’d punch him or something. She smiled slightly and whispered, “So’re you.” The shock and undisguised pleasure on his face made her laugh slightly. “Only I never noticed before. I wonder how I missed so much beauty.”

Spike smiled uncertainly and decided to confess. “I knew you were beautiful, Slayer. I watched you fight, I watched you with your friends, I thought about...having sex with you. But I refused to admit it.”

She blushed as he admitted this, but didn’t move away. “You thought about having sex with me?”

He nodded silently.

Slowly, carefully, she closed the gap between their bodies, pressing close to his lean body, and kissed him hard, moaning softly when he responded with equal force, their tongues meeting in an urgent duel for dominance until she pulled away, breathless. “God, you can kiss,” she panted. She watched him come back to her, his eyes heavy-lidded and dark with lust, his whole body shaking.

“Buffy, bloody hell, you’re killing me,” he whispered desperately. She kissed him again, and it was he this time that moaned. Finally, they broke apart, and Buffy looked at him. A tear rolled down his ivory cheek. “Spike?”

“I’m not...I don’t deserve....” he managed quietly.

“You do,” she replied, pulling him back to her, running her hands up his back, raking him with her nails and kissing him again. He moved his arms around her, scarcely believing this was happening, suddenly becoming engulfed in heat and desire and sensing she did too. She pulled his jacket from him and spread it onto a tomb, turning back to him and silently tugging his shirt over his head. She moved her light, quick fingers over his chest for a second, tracing the muscles, before moving her hand to his belt. He shook his head and started undoing her blouse deftly as he kicked off his own boots, leaving a trail of kisses along her neck and jawline as he worked. He undid her bra and tossed it behind them, kissing her breasts as though worshipping them before gently sucking the nipples into hard peaks. She sighed softly and pushed against his hardness, but he moved back and smirked at her. He allowed her to finally undo his belt and tug his tight black jeans down, and she saw why he’d made her wait. He had no underwear on, and his pale erection stood proudly away from the mass of dark curls. He grinned at her gasp of surprise, and looked up through lust filled eyes, his eyes resting on her jeans. He moved forward quickly and unzipped them, pulling them down and quickly following them with her pants, already wet. He licked his lips like a predator and growled low in his throat. She shuddered deliciously, and he could bear it no longer. With a roar, he leaped at her and threw her onto the tomb, landing on top of her. “Want this?” he asked breathlessly.

She nodded and kissed him. He paused for a second, eyes burning into hers, before gently, slowly, slipping inside. The heat of her nearly made his head explode from sheer ecstasy, and his face conveyed every thought to the Slayer as though he’d screamed them out loud, turning her on even more. He went as deep as he could, staying there for a moment in pure heaven. She gasped and thrust her hips up to meet him, and his control was lost. He began to pound into her, driven wild by her responses to his every touch, biting her neck and throat as hard as he could without breaking the skin, feeling her nails scrape his back, marring the perfection of his marble skin, and loving the pain it brought. The rings on his fingers scratched her face, her neck, and he licked away the blood they drew as if cleaning the wound, gasping with the power of her blood inside him. She moaned in utter abandon and pressed her neck to his teeth as he thrust, inviting him to bite, to taste as they both neared their peak. Finally, he allowed himself to shift to game face and sank his fangs into her throat, drinking deeply and tipping both himself and Buffy over the edge and into oblivion with mingled roars and screams.