The First Stage

Chapter 2 : "No."


"Don’t think! Don’t think!" Buffy mumbled to herself over and over again as she strode quickly up one of the steeper hills in the cemetery. It was the third time she’d mounted this particular hill this evening. *Where the HELL are all the evil vampiry distractions when you need them?* she thought to herself hoping the mental vibes would reach the subconscious of some nameless vampires and result in her being forced to go rescue someone instead of having to face giving in to what had to be the greatest temptation of all time. She purposely pushed away the nagging little voice in the back of her mind that seemed incessant on reminding her that there was one particular evil vampire, waiting for her on the other side of the cemetery who always managed to provide a VERY effective distraction.

"No, no, no, don’t go there, Slayer," she chastened herself harshly even as her traitorous feet led her straight towards his crypt. It had been exactly one month and two days since she’d officially broken it off with the clingy bloodsucker, and a lot had happened in that time. *First Riley shows up out of no where,* Buffy’s mental ramble suddenly turned on, *and sends me on this total coaster-o-emotions, which at first seems like a good thing, cause it made me realize a lot that I’d been ignoring, but then Xander anya’nya’s relationship, the only truly GOOD thing that seemed to be coming out of this mess, went completely haywire with the wedding being a total disaster, Xander going postal over the whole ordeal and Anya reverting to demon-girl again. THEN, as if THAT wasn’t enough, I get mutated into a raving psychopath who thinks her mom’s still alive, doesn’t even know her own sister, and tells everybody in the whole frigging WORLD that she’s a superhero who saves the universe from the forces of darkness every night!*

Scrubbing away the tears of frustration and self-pity from her cheeks in one swipe, Buffy heaved a determined, steadying sigh. "I need a break," she whispered to herself. *Damn the consequences.*

Forcing herself to breathe calmly for a few moments until she was sure that she no longer looked like she was on the edge of a nervous breakdown, Buffy continued toward her all-too-familiar destination. *You’re going to hate yourself for this in about five hours,* her conscience warned. *I already hate myself,* she countered. *That’s the beauty of this…it can’t get any worse.*

*****************************************

Spike fidgeted ceaselessly in the embrace of his broken down but comfortable armchair, long since having forgotten the teley was even on. He was beginning to wonder what was taking her so long. Her scent had been on the occasional breeze that drifted in through the barred windows of his crypt for almost two hours now; however, she still had yet to bust down his door. He was getting edgy. He knew that she was here for him as opposed to patrol by the slight aroma of her arousal mingled with the smell he usually associated with her neck and hair. She hadn’t tied her hair back. He smiled at the thought of her adorable face framed perfectly by the short locks of amber.

Suddenly, the door flew open, making Spike jump despite himself. Gripping the arms of the chair for a moment before rising, he tried his beo sto steel himself for what he was about to do.

Buffy watched as Spike began to push himself up from the ugly orange chair that sat directly in front of the TV in the upper level of his crypttingting the absence of clothing on the upper portion of his body as she did. Lengthening her stride, she met him as he was halfway to standing and, splaying a warm hand in the center of his chest, roughly pushed him back into a sitting position. Spike relaxed his muscles, trying tt fet feel the excitement that leapt up inside him at the authority in her demand. Doing his best to keep a calm, nonchalant expression, he gazed up at her inquisitively. *Oh, God,* Buffy thought with exasperation at the almost innocent expression Spike was obviously forcing, *he’s just not going to make this easy for me is he?*

"Look, Spike," She began, her irritability coming out clearly in her voice, "I really don’t want to think right now, so can we please save the bickering about this until after?" He had seemed in the mood to bitch and though she couldn’t blame him, she didn’t want to hear it right now.

"Bickering?" Spike asked feigning a lightness that was almost laughable, and if Buffy had been in a better mood she might well have laughed.

"Yes, bickering, Spike." she said evenly, quickly losing patience with his games. "You know damn well what I’m talking about so drop the Bo-peep attitude!" Buffy had leaned forward to punctuate the last of her exclamation, bringing her close enough to his face to smell him clearly. They glared at one another for a few seconds before locking in one of their more passionate kisses.

Buffy couldn’t get enough. Tasting him again after so long literally made her head reel with suppressed desire that had only grown stronger the more she denied it. Desperate to be closer to him, she shoved her knees into the spaces between his hips and the arms of the chair and settled herself firmly atop the growing bulge in Spike’s already skin-tight black jeans. She was well aware of how the warmth between her legs, made warmer by his lack there of, would invoke the aggression she was craving right now.

With a gasp that broke their fervent kiss Spike grabbed her around the waist and pushed her body a few inches away from his erection, scrambling for something resembling control. Buffy’s brow knitted in bafflement.

"What?" she asked, mostly perturbed, but more than a little concerned.

"No."

"What?" she repeated, not sure she’d understood what he’d uttered, much less he’ he’d meant.

"I said…No." Spike spoke evenly, barely believing what he’d just said.

"No?" Buffy was still very unclear as to what Spike was getting at. "No what?"

"No…" he paused, pushing her the rest of the way to her feet, "…No."