Buffy began to slide slowly along the railing of the bridge, her hand moving inconspicuously into her tote bag, her eyes never leaving the figure circling the front of the car, a wide grin on his face.
"Slayer! What a lovely surprise, finding you in the middle of nowhere."
Buffy continued to move backwards as he approached. Her searching hand grasped around a stake and she yanked it free of the bag. In a blindingly swift move, Spike grabbed the hand that held the stake and pinned it behind her back. Successfully blocking her attacking knee, he shoved her against the railing, bending her ever so slightly backwards.
"And here I thought we were bestest of friends," Spike said with a hint of menace in his voice.
Buffy gasped at the dizziness that flooded her, her ears filling with the sound of the water rushing over the dam thirty feet below her. She knew that if she managed to push him away, she could easily topple over the side. Going against every instinct she had, Buffy forced herself to relax.
"Sorry, Spike. Reflex action," she quipped in a shaky voice.
The grin returning to his face, if not to his eyes, Spike slowly pulled her away from the edge of the bridge and released her, taking a step back. Buffy immediately attacked, plunging the stake towards his chest. Barely managing to sidestep instant death, Spike flung himself towards his car. Spinning around, his demon at the fore, he backhanded his attacker, sending her flying into the railing.
The pain surprised her. It had been over a month since anyone had hit her. Memories of the last fight she had been a participant in swamped her and Buffy sank to her knees, facing the moonlit river. Silently she began to cry as the dam inside her broke, freeing the emotions that were always there under the tightly controlled surface.
"Get up," Spike growled harshly from behind her. Buffy ignored him, waiting, nearly praying for the death she hadn't had the courage to seek out. "Don't die on your knees, girl!" A clawed hand dug into her shoulder and jerked her to her feet. Turning her, Spike raised his hand, preparing to slash her throat. At the sight of the tears leaking from her closed eyes, the torment in her expression, he let her go, his face morphing back to normal. "This just won't do," he muttered petulantly. "It isn't fun if you don't fight back, pet."
Buffy's eyes flew open to stare at him. The humor had returned to his eyes as he leaned back against his car, arms crossed over his chest. Why wasn't he killing her? She swallowed hard and muttered through her tears, "Get it over with, Spike."
"Can't do it, luv. Right now you're too pathetic to kill." He made a tsking noise. "Sloppy attack, giving up way too soon, tears...Not much of a slayer, are we."
The sarcasm in his voice was almost enough to make her angry, but that emotion had become so foreign to her she let it be overwhelmed by the pain and guilt she lived with. The tears continued to flow as she wrapped her arms around herself, trying not to think or feel anything.
"Slayer, this is getting really pitiful."
"Stuff it, Spike," she choked out. As a sob broke from her, she spun on her heel and continued across the bridge, eyes downcast. She was aware the instant he fell into step with her.
"So, where are we going?" he asked conversationally.
Blinded by tears, Buffy stumbled only to be caught up against Spike's firm, lean body. Instinctively she began to struggle, but he held her tightly and swung her into his arms. As he strode back the way they had come, Buffy broke down completely, sobbing noisily. All the pain, guilt and grief she had bottled inside her for months poured from her and she clung to Spike. Pressing her face into his chest, she clutched desperately at his shoulders, wanting, praying for everything to just end.
"That's it, luv; let it all out," he murmured in a gentler voice than she had ever thought he could possess.
Gently Spike settled her in the passenger seat of his car, firmly disentangling himself from her grasping hands. By the time he had gone around to the driver's side, Buffy had curled into a little ball, her face buried in her knees as she sobbed.
Turning the key in the ignition, Spike found his eyes wandering to her huddled form. As the engine revved to life, he sat back and watched her, wondering why he hadn't killed her. His line about her being pathetic had been accurate, but since when had that stopped him? Most of his victims sobbed for their lives.
Maybe it was because she hadn't been sobbing for her life. He had seen mortals with death wishes before. Her's might be unspoken, but it was there in her feeble attack and break down. The slayer wanted to die.
So, again the question, why was she still alive, sitting beside him in his car?
That last night, the hesitant alliance they had made, the mutual desire to rid the world of Angelus...had there been something else hidden in their sarcastic, sniping hatred of each other?
He knew hate. What he was feeling was no where near it.
For the last several months his hatred had been reserved for his sire. His only thoughts about the slayer had been rather automatic--that Angel should just get on with it and kill her. He really hadn't cared whether she lived or died; he just wanted something--anything--to take Angel's attention away from Dru.
Thoughts of Drusilla brought too much pain and Spike shook himself from his revery. "Where to, pet?"
Slowly Buffy looked up at him. Tears were still sliding down her wet cheeks from her red eyes, but the hideous sobs had ceased. Rubbing her hands over her tangled, damp hair, she mumbled her address and directions to him. Spike pulled the car back into the minimal traffic and headed north.
As Spike drove, Buffy began to pull her scattered thoughts together, trying to understand what had brought her to this moment--sitting a foot away from her worst enemy, letting him drive her home. And, why hadn't he tried a little harder to kill her?
Why hadn't she tried a little harder to kill him?
Gently brushing the tears from her cheeks, Buffy glanced at him from the corner of her eye, taking in his strong profile as he easily guided the car with one hand, the other one propped in the open window. Why was he being nice to her?
Their truce had been temporary, a necessary alliance to bring down...Buffy's mind skittered and she swallowed hard, forcing the rampant emotions back down inside her. For a month she had survived by not thinking about him, not feeling anything about him but low level ever present pain and guilt. She wondered why the bad emotions crept through her barricades, but nothing good could escape. She had felt no joy, no pleasure since leaving Sunnydale.
Spike's presence had freed something inside her that she didn't want to feel. She could live without the joy if she never again felt the agony of loss that had consumed her for those few minutes on the bridge.
Now, slowly, she was growing cold again, stamping out all hint of emotion. Apparently, she would survive another night, but not if she allowed herself to feel anything but residual emotions. Allowing herself to truly feel would allow the grief to drive her mad.
Spike pulled up in front of her dingy trailer on a weed-filled lot and stopped the car. "Hmm, this is certainly a downgrade in choice of residences."
Buffy ignored him and slid from the car, walking up the gravel drive to the door. She knew Spike was following her, but pretended he didn't exist as she dug her key out of her bag and unlocked the door.
"Gonna invite me in, pet?"
Slowly Buffy turned to face her nemesis and found him grinning evilly at her. She gave him a cool, controlled look. "I'm not that stupid."
"Oh, c'mon. Here we are the only vampire and the only slayer in this dinky little town in Kansas, for Hell's sake. It'd get really dull if one of us killed the other, don't you think?"
"We're mortal enemies, Spike. That's what mortal enemies do."
*****
Part 3
Spike just looked at Buffy until she finally sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "Fine. I must have a death wish," she muttered.
Yeah, he'd agree with her on that one.
"Come on in, but if you try anything funny, you're staked."
"Oh, yeah, you're scary," he replied, following her into the tiny, sparsely furnished trailer. He flopped down in an armchair that's stuffing was spilling from various holes and crossed one leg over his knee. "So, what are you doing in the middle of nowhere, Kansas?"
Buffy gave him a sharp look and dropped her bag on the kitchen table. "Where's Drusilla?"
Spike frowned at her. "Okay, no tough questions. What should we chat about?"
"So, what happened? She dump your sorry ass?" Buffy persisted.
"You really are looking for death, aren't you, Slayer?" he quipped in a menacing voice.
Sighing, Buffy sat down in a kitchen chair and crossed her arms across her chest. "Why are you here, Spike? In my trailer?"
"Because you invited me, luv."
Buffy rolled her eyes at the literalness of his answer and Spike began to tap the fingers of one hand on the arm of the chair.
"Maybe because you're the first familiar thing in a thousand miles," he said through gritted teeth. His voice gentled as he gazed at her frozen, empty face. "Why are you here, Buffy?"
It was the first time he had ever spoken her name to her and something opened inside her. She blinked at fresh tears. "I don't know," she whispered. Wiping at her eyes, she got up and started past him. "I think you better leave."
As she stumbled past, Spike caught her wrist and the next thing either of them knew, she had tumbled onto his lap. Buffy squirmed in a mixture of fear and embarrassment and their eyes met. Something in his eyes made her stop trying to get up.
The hand that held her wrist loosened and began to caress her trembling skin. Buffy's lips parted in a pant as she watched his eyes darken, harden. Unbidden, her free hand touched his cheek. The firm, cool skin was so familiar...
A low moan broke from her as her body came alive to the feeling of a man holding her. Tingling sensations washed over her and the tears leaked from her wide eyes. "I need..." she whispered.
"What do you need?" he answered in a husky voice, full of emotion he hadn't expected to feel.
"I need...to be held."
Spike's arm wrapped around her waist and he pulled her closer until her breasts pressed against his chest. He couldn't believe this was happening. That he was growing aroused by holding the slayer!
But, he was. He wanted the young woman trembling in his arms. He had always found her attractive, enjoyed her wit and sarcasm, admired her sleek, lithe body, but...she was the slayer!
Trying to find a way out of this before they fell in too deep, he said, "And none of a billion mortals in this world could hold you?"
Buffy shook her head. "They'd make me feel alive. I don't want to feel alive." The hand on his cheek slid up into his hair. "Can you make me feel death, Spike?" she whispered before covering his mouth with her's.
All rational thought fled Buffy's mind. His touch was so familiar. She needed to feel that way again...the way *he* had made her feel, his cold hands caressing her hot flesh, his cold cock deep inside her. He had made her want to die...Maybe with Spike she finally would.
Stunned by the touch of her hungry mouth, Spike found himself instinctively responding, his arms tightening around her. The word 'slayer' kept bouncing around his short- circuiting brain, but his body was in control...for now, at least.
When she rose to her feet, still kissing him, he followed her and pulled her against him. Buffy rose on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck, thrusting her tongue into his mouth with growing passion.
No longer thinking, driven by the heat spreading through her loins, Buffy backed them down the hall towards her tiny bedroom and the double bed it contained. A tiny part of her screamed at how wrong this was, but her body, untouched for so many months, was on over-drive, throbbing, hot, needing a man's touch.
And when that little part of her yelled that he wasn't a man, she ruthlessly shut it up, digging her hands into Spike's shoulders and tugging him down with her onto the bed.
The room was dark, but he could see her clearly as he lay propped over her. She was panting and trembling, obviously hungry for his touch. As he watched the emotions play across her face, knowing she couldn't see the similar emotions on his, Spike's hands began to unbutton her shirt.
He wouldn't ask her if she was sure she wanted to do this. If she said no, he wasn't sure he could stop.
At the feel of cold fingers sliding over the tops of her breasts, Buffy moaned deep in her throat, pushing her pelvis up against his hardness. She helped him pull his t- shirt over his head, then leaned up and began to place light kisses on his smooth chest.
Groaning, Spike turned her, pulling the shirt down her arms and flinging it over his shoulder as her hot lips touched his skin, sending sparks of pleasure racing through him. How long had it been since a woman had made him feel this way?
Gazing down at breasts encased in white lace, fuller and plumper than he could have imagined, an airless pant broke from his lips. Sliding one hand inside the cup, his fingers found her nipple, already hard. Buffy jerked and whimpered, her nails digging into his back as she began to nibble on one of his own nipples in lusty retaliation.
The front clasp of her bra easily opened for him and Spike feasted his eyes on her pale, pink-tipped breasts. Bending his head, he sucked one of her nipples into his mouth.
Electricity jolted through Buffy. Gripping his head, she held him to her breast, moaning continuously. The pleasure was incredible--so long forgotten--so hot and unbearable. Spike moved to her other breast and she arched against him, eagerly offering herself.
As he tongued her nipples, one after the other, Spike's hands slipped down further and ran over the crotch of her shorts. He could feel her damp heat through the thick cotton. Nimble fingers untying the drawstring, he began to pull the shorts down. Instinctively Buffy lifted her hips and he pulled the article of clothing free.
Pulling back, Spike rose to his knees and looked down at her, trembling on the bed. Her eyes were open, but glazed with desire, her fingers were digging rhythmically into the bedding beneath her, her slender legs were slightly parted. Leaning down, he pulled her sandals off, gently running his fingers over the arches of her sensitive feet.
Buffy's feet jerked and she whimpered. When his cold tongue circled her big toe, she nearly arched off the bed. "Oh God..." she moaned, thrashing her head. The heat between her legs had become a throbbing pressure and he was kissing her feet! "Please," she begged, not really sure what she was asking for.
Grinning, Spike placed a kiss on her ankle, then ran his tongue up her shin, knee and thigh. The muscles of her thigh jumped under his touch. As his lips brushed her hip, his sensitive nose smelled the musky scent of her arousal and he was oddly pleased that she wanted him so much.
Excruciatingly slowly, one of Spike's hands slid up her other thigh, then slipped to the inside, then lightly ran across the crotch of her white panties. Buffy arched against his hand, a shudder running through her entire body. He began to peel the panties down, over her hips and down her trembling legs, then off her feet.
If he could have breathed, his breath would have caught in his throat as he took in the sight of the soft, brown hair between her thighs. She was exquisite and incredibly sexy all at the same time.
Looking up, past her heaving breasts and panting lips, Spike caught her eyes. They were wild and full of need. He could prolong this for hours, but, as a very experienced man, he recognized that it had been a long time for her--probably since that first and only time with Angel.
Dipping his head between her thighs, his mouth immediately found the center of her pleasure and he began to kiss and tongue her.
Buffy's knees pinned his head between her legs as she pushed against his mouth. "So cold, so cold, cold, cold..." she mumbled over and over as the pleasure built. Her hands found her breasts, tweaking the tender, hard nipples.
Spike had forgotten how different it was with a mortal. She was so hot to his touch, nearly burning his tongue as he lapped at her femininity. Her legs began a constant trembling and he knew she was near. Closing his lips around her throbbing clitoris, he sucked hard.
Yelling, Buffy exploded, her fingers twisting her nipples, her legs clenching his head, her body spasming. She flung her head back against the pillow and thrust herself against his mouth, her cries dwindling to moans.
Buffy whimpered as he pulled back and rose on shaky legs, but didn't have the strength to bring him back to her. Quickly Spike kicked off his shoes and yanked his jeans down his legs. Even with the endurance of a vampire, he couldn't wait much longer.
As he slid back between her thighs, Buffy's shaking arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him over her slick body. She moaned again as his hard, cold chest scraped over her throbbing nipples and met his mouth in a hungry, tongue thrusting kiss.
Feeling her legs wrapping around his hips, Spike slid his pulsing erection against her wet cleft. Buffy whimpered and pressed herself against him, sucking his tongue into her mouth.
As he thrust into her hot channel, she gasped, her eyes opening wide. It felt so good. Like ice inside her burning body. Her hips met his thrust and she tightened her legs around him.
Pulling her head back to pant through moist lips, she watched as Spike flung his own head back, propping himself above her with his arms on either side of her head. She began to run her nails over his chest, eliciting a groan from him as she scraped his nipples.
In the gloom of the room, she watched the pleasure that crossed his face, felt him speed up the thrusts, heard the slapping sound from flesh hitting flesh as their pelvises met. The tension began to build again inside her.
Groaning, unprepared for the quick, hot pleasure that slammed into her, she grabbed his shoulders, concentrating on grinding her sensitive mound against him. Putting his weight on one arm, Spike slid the other hand down between their bodies and began to finger her clitoris.
She yelped at his touch and climaxed noisily, babbling to God and clinging to him. Lowering his upper body to rest on her's, Spike gripped her hips and slammed her up against him as his climax hit. He thrust mindlessly, grunting in pleasurable agony as he emptied himself into her.
Finally, they both collapsed, him sprawled half on top of her, their bodies still intimately joined.
As his mind slowly returned to normal, Spike glanced up at the slayer with whom he had just shared an incredible sexual experience and found her asleep, flushed and cutely tousled.
Grinning, tired himself, he levered himself off of her and flopped on his back. Gently he pulled her into his arms and she curled around him, snuffling her face into his chest. Trying not to wonder what the Hell had just happened, Spike dozed off.