Lonely is the night when you find yourself alone
Your demons come to light and your mind is not your own
Lonely is the night when there's no one left to call
You feel the time is right-(say) the writin's on the wall

It's a high time to fight when the walls are closin' in
Call it what you like-it's time you got to win
Lonely, lonely, lonely-your spirit's sinkin' down
You find you're not the only stranger in this town…

Buffy hadn't seen Angel in over a week—no abrupt appearances at the Sunnydale High library, no lurking in the shadows at the Bronze. The young slayer wasn't quite sure how to feel about this turn of events—on one hand, she longed to see the mysterious, handsome vampire; on the other, Buffy couldn't put out of her mind the disturbing scene she witnessed at the playground.

Drusilla's obscure prophecies concerning Angelus' return niggled at the back of Buffy's mind. While the sixteen-year-old herself would have gladly ignored Dru's ramblings about 'pixies' and 'tea parties' and 'Daddy coming home,' Spike seemed worried enough to confide in Buffy his fear over the potential forfeit of Angel's soul. Though Spike's concern centered on the loss of Drusilla's affections should Angelus return, and Buffy feared confronting the sadistic, soulless demon, wearing Angel's face, they both conceded that maintaining the integrity of the vampire's suffering soul was of the utmost import.

In his fervor to bind Buffy and Angel more inextricably together, Spike provided Buffy with a taste of sexual pleasure, hoping to spur her on and seek the same from Angel. While Spike's words callously taunted Buffy for her inexperience, the desperation in his touch suggested that he, too, was acting out of pain, out of betrayal, as the two blondes watched Drusilla drink her sire's blood and feel his touch.

Buffy turned over the complications in her mind, trying to discern how much of Angel's actions were necessary for his childe's well-being and how much fed his own pleasure and need. The petite blonde sighed and rolled to her side as she lay under the covers, flicking at Mr. Gordo's ear in her consternation.

Her slayer senses heightened just before the soft rapping on her window was heard. Buffy jerked her head up to see Angel's dark eyes look beseechingly toward her from the closed window. Hesitating momentarily as the internal debate over her yearning to see Angel and versus her disgust with his recent behavior waged in the Slayer's head, the petite blonde sighed deeply, flinging back the covers and swinging her legs to the floor. Making her way to the window, Buffy's black silk nightie teased with each step, the curly ruffle at the bottom hem swirling round the tops of her thighs. Though her bedtime attire may have seemed like an afterthought, Buffy had actually washed the panties and short gown by hand each morning, in hopes that she would be wearing it when Angel came to her window.

"Come in, Angel," Buffy invited tentatively, perching on the end of her bed as Angel took the window seat, diverting his eyes from the tantalizing view.

"Long time, no second-story visit," Buffy quipped lightly, hoping to draw the sullen vampire into a casual conversation.

"Yeah…um…sorry about that…lots going on, lately," Angel looked up nervously, unable to hold Buffy's steady gaze for more than a few seconds at a time.

"Thought we were going to meet up after patrol last Friday—maybe go to the Bronze, remember?" Buffy inquired, trying to hide the fact that she knew precisely what he was doing the previous weekend and with whom.

"Well…I looked for you after I dealt with a little vamp problem at the playground…kept a kid from becoming a late night snack," he offered weakly, hoping that Buffy would believe his lame, but partially true, excuse.

"Mm," Buffy nodded, knowing more about the brooding vampire's whereabouts than she let on.

Angel stammered, seeing that Buffy was not yet convinced of his complete altruism.

"It was really late by that point, though…," he added, trying to formulate an excuse, "figured you were already in bed…so I went home…stayed up and read awhile."

"K—maybe next time, then," Buffy smiled, though it did not reach her eyes, shadowed in the darkened room. Her tone was falsely bright, though it would not pay to rouse the vampire's suspicions. Buffy tried to put away the hurt she felt due to Angel's deception and half-truths since she figured that no good would come from alienating her already-distant and distracted boyfriend.

"So what brings you to my window, tonight?" Buffy inquired purposefully, and a little more loudly than she'd originally intended.

Angel looked to Buffy's bedroom door, his muscles tightening as if he might need to flee suddenly.

"It's fine—mom's gone on a buying trip, *No need to whisper,*" Buffy ironically spoke in a theatrical rasp, hoping to set Angel at ease with her humor.

This piece of news seemed only to make Angel all the more nervous instead of setting him at ease. His dark eyes darted around the room, as if looking for another impetus to leave.

In an effort to nip Angel's impending exit in the bud, Buffy slid off the bed slowly, taking unhurried steps toward the window, one foot saucily stepping in front of the other, a teasing glimpse of the slayer's tiny panties peeking out with each swing of the her hips.

Buffy decided to block out the recent images of Angel and Drusilla that had replayed in her head for the last week. Instead, she recalled Spike's not-so-subtle sex ed lesson on the rooftop that night. With the necessity of seduction in mind, Buffy let her voice drop to a dark, husky drawl as she sauntered to the window seat.

"So…," Buffy coyly asked as she perched on Angel's lap, tickling at the nape of his neck with curious fingers, "did you just stop in for a visit?" The petite blonde punctuated her question with a teasing kiss to the tender skin just underneath Angel's jaw, while the fingers of her left hand traced seductive trails at his unbuttoned collar. Her flirtatious intentions were as clearly obvious and direct as one of her roundhouse kicks.

Angel grew hard and unnerved as Buffy's warm, satiny bottom nestled against his rarely-utilized manhood, his desire for the beautiful slayer threatened his sought-after redemption which was already on shaky ground following his playground encounter with Drusilla.

But as tempting as Buffy was, home alone in her black silk nightie, Angel, however, remained steadfast.

"Um…no…," Angel stammered, plucking Buffy delicately from his lap and replacing her on the window seat as he stood, searching his pockets as an excuse to disengage from the lure of the slayer's warm, nubile body.

"Prophecy…actually…," Angel stammered, finally locating the notes he had jotted down in the interior pocket of his leather jacket. "The Powers that Be…," Angel fidgeted where he stood, anxious to avoid sitting down again, lest Buffy try to maneuver him toward her bed this time, "sending us…um…our weekly heads up, I guess," Angel sheepishly waved the folded paper as a lame bit of show-and-tell.

Buffy huffed and crossed her legs, off-put but Angel's rejection of her obvious invitation. Gritting her teeth against the tears that threatened to well, Buffy drew on the anger and frustration she felt instead. Her response to Angel's pronouncement came out a little more bitterly than intended.

"So what do the harbingers of the apocalypse have to say today?" she quipped.

"Yeah…right…," Angel was startled back into action, feeling suddenly self-conscious in the face of Buffy's ire. Unfolding the paper, he began to read the translated prophecy.

"From the stars, across the sand

Two princes, seeking-

One seeks to make whole and gain the universe

One seeks to destroy and finds only the grave…"

Angel looked up expectantly, his eyes then quickly darting away from Buffy's focused study. Angel folded up the paper in his hand like an apologetic third-grader who had just recited a history report straight from the encyclopedia.

"That's it?" questioned Buffy, underwhelmed by the content of the prophecy Angel had just delivered. At his nod, the frustrated slayer continued to malign the Powers that Be for their foreshortened and murky prognostication.

"I mean, jeez, if they know so much, why don't they just spell it out? Why do they make these prophecies so fucking complicated?" she rubbed at her forehead, perching her elbow on her crossed knee.

"I mean…who the hell should I be expecting exactly…Harry and William? A couple of sheiks from Dubai?" Buffy sprang from the window seat and engaged in her own frustrated pacing, " I mean, my God, can't they save it with the riddles? I'm not frickin' Batman," she continued to rant, not pausing for a response from the tall, brooding vampire.

"I've got enough on my proverbial plate, you know," Buffy shot an accusatory glance Angel's way. His brown eyes cut away again, unable to provide the scantily-clad slayer with an adequate answer.

Between school…and slaying…I'm really quite the busy Buffy, thank you very much," she ranted toward the ceiling. "I am so sick of these damn prophecies," she continued without forethought, "the Powers that Be…talking stars…the damn-," Buffy froze before the 'p' of 'pixies' escaped her lips.

Shaking her head and waving her hand, palm out, Buffy covered her near slip, having nearly forgotten to keep her conversations concerning Drusilla's visions a secret from Angel.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, "It's not your fault—I shouldn't have gone off like that," Buffy contritely chastised herself to hide her verbal misstep.

"It's ok," Angel nodded with a regretful smile, "I'm just the messenger, though," the agonized vampire defended.

Buffy was once again reminded of the other prophecy that required her immediate attention, and tried once again to tempt Angel's affections, the corners of her mouth again upturned and her eyes smiling sweetly as she strolled back to the massive form near the window.

"You could stay…you know…we could talk about the prophecy…see if we could figure it out together?" Buffy tempted as her hands caressed the planes of Angel's solid chest over his white shirt.

Creases formed in the dark vampire's broad forehead, his eyes looking everywhere but at Buffy while he stammered at his excuse.

"Sorry, baby…I can't stay tonight…gotta' deal with some old business," he grimaced unhappily, backing away from the warmth of Buffy's small hands on his body.

"Maybe we can get together this weekend," he offered with contrived brightness, trying to maintain a casual air. "Meet up with all the Scoobies…head to the Bronze…," Angel tempted, trying to appease his disappointed girlfriend, giving her a quick, chaste kiss on the lips.

The guilt-ridden vamp needed to check on Drusilla—knowing Spike was usually out and about this time of night. Angel figured he'd better prevent the addled vampiress from snacking on the weak and defenseless. He'd drunk an extra mug-full this evening in order to appease his childe's craving.

Moving toward Buffy's bedroom window, he swung a long leg over the sill before turning back to her disappointed face. Avoiding the acknowledgement of her disillusion, Angel's suggestion came out contrived and overly solicitous, "Maybe Giles and your friends can help you with that prophecy tomorrow. You know—big research party," the false excitement only made his words seem more unconvincing. At the tinge of salt in the air, Angel swung his other leg onto the ledge, unable to deal with Buffy's potential tears in the moment.

"See you later, Buffy," Angel's faltering smile faded quickly as the hulking vampire made his speedy descent, leaving an angry, hurt, frustrated teenaged powerhouse in his wake.

Buffy flopped back down on her bed, aggravated at her failure to lure Angel into her bed tonight.

"Only here to talk about a stupid prophecy," she muttered, stretching her legs up against the wall, her heels flexing alternately just above her headboard. The agitated slayer felt like heading out and putting a stake to some poor, unsuspecting fledgling, but that would mean getting dressed all over again. Groaning, she clutched Mr. Gordo in a frustrated snit. The vexed young woman startled at the firm knock on her upper window.

Craning her head around, she spied a white-blonde head glowing in the moonlight. Huffing out a resigned sigh, Buffy swung her legs to the side of the bed, headless of the free show she was providing Spike as she made her way to the open window.

A low whistle and overt leer came from the black-clad vamp as he watched Buffy walk his way, "Well, hello, cutie!" he greeted in lascivious appreciation of Buffy in her chosen nightwear.

"Hello, Spike," Buffy returned with a wry smile, "To what do I owe the pleasure?" she questioned the reason for his appearance at her window.

"Well, seeing as I was just strollin' by…," the bleached vampire began unconvincingly, "an' saw Peaches takin' off for the night…thought I'd just swing by and see how things went…," Spike insinuated.

"What do you mean 'how things *went*?" Buffy replied drolly, flopping down on the window seat.

"Your debut, 'su pérdida de la virginidad'," Spike queried with enthusiasm, Buffy grimacing in ever-growing consternation at the blonde vampire's antics.

"In Chile, you would have *looked into the potato's eye*…whatever that means, in France 'la perte de votre fleur'….," he carried on.

"God, Spike…shut up already. I don't really want the whole neighborhood in on the conversation," Buffy rasped, her eyes darting into the shadows, hoping no one was listening. Shaking her head in disbelief at what she was about to do, Buffy sighed, "I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but…won't you come in, Spike," the disgruntled slayer ground out the invitation, knowing that if she didn't, the whole of Sunnydale would be privy to the details of her pitiful sex life.

Spike hopped in the window, his long, black duster trailing after him, landing with a thud. The peroxide blonde bounced on the balls of his feet, surveying Buffy's very girly-girl bedroom, noting the dresser likely to provide fodder for future panty raids.

Turning back to the lingerie-clad, pouting figure still seated on the narrow bench, Spike continued with his line of questioning, which he now deemed safe considering he was inside the Summers' home.

"So…did Peaches tiptoe through your garden and pluck your dainty flower?" Spike walked two fingers along in midair before turning all his fingers up and snatching at an imaginary blossom.

"Was there *Much Ado about Nothing*?" his dark eyebrows waggled at the snug, black panties just visible, employing the help of another William to denote what lay beneath the tiny garment.

"Did he…," Spike drew a drew a dramatic breath before histrionically collapsing on the window seat and depositing his slicked-back curls on the tops of her thighs, "die in your lap?" the vampire's blue eyes twinkled up at the slayer.

"How about 'popping your cherry' or 'turning in your v-card' if you're living in this century and on this continent?" snarked Buffy, before sighing defeatedly, "And…no he didn't."

"What?" Spike retorted in appalled disgust, "The big poof left you all needy and wantin'…with you in your frilly dainties and-," he turned his head to breathe deeply through the scrap of black silk between Buffy's thighs, "smellin' so delicious?" The vampire took a playful nip with blunt teeth at her panty-covered snatch.

"Get off!" Buffy grimaced, pushing the offending vampire to the floor.

"You offering?"

Buffy ignored Spike's lascivious query and playful groans as he lingered on her floor. Buffy was even more disgusted with Angel's rejection after Spike wasted no time in pointing out her abject failure at seduction. She removed herself from the window seat and flounced to her bed, sitting back against the pillows and picked carpet lint off her much-beloved stuffed pig.

Noting the slayer's dejection, Spike untied his bootlaces, kicked off his black Doc Martins and hopped to his feet, plopping himself down beside Buffy without invitation.

Buffy raised an inquiring eyebrow at the presumptuous vampire.

"What do you think you're doing?" she glared at her nemesis that had taken up residence on the right side of her double bed.

"Do I need to remind you of the consequences if we fail, Slayer?—I lose Dru…Angelus wreaks havoc throughout Southern California," Spike ranted. "You'd be in a state—havin' to fight Angelus. I'd be a wreck—tryin' to lure Dru away from her precious daddy…," Spike continued, foreseeing the debacle the pair would face if Angel lost his cursed soul. "And I've still got to find that soddin' spell, so I can get Dru cured and take her away from Sunnyhell for good."

An inexplicable melancholy fell across the room at Spike's pronouncement, even the blonde vamp unable to discern why his last words left him with a confused churning in his gut. He cut his eyes to the opposite side of the bed, noting Buffy's perplexed grimace. Shaking off his own introspection and measuring the slayer's dark mood, Spike changed his tactics in pursuit of his goal.

"So, how exactly did you try and romance the great poof?" Spike inquired solicitously, hoping to correct any flaws in the slayer's strategy with his extensive knowledge of his grandsire's sexual proclivities.

"I don't know," Buffy shrugged, met with an impatient eye-rolling from her bed mate. Her face flushing in embarrassment, Buffy groped for words to explain her plan of attack.

"Well…I kissed him…touched him…sat on his lap…," the slayer offered meekly.

"Hmmm," Spike considered thoughtfully.

"Show me," he ordered bluntly.

"What?"

"Show me what you did…so I can figure what went wonky."

"Alright, then," Buffy rolled off the bed, conceding to the pesky vampire's wishes.

"Well…," Buffy hesitated, trying to decide how to execute the dramatization. "Angel was sitting on the window seat," Buffy pointed.

"Eh—not very comfy," Spike swung his legs off the bed, so his feet met the floor. "We can do this here, Slayer."

"Ok-," Buffy bit her lip, walking the path she had traveled earlier, but in the opposite direction, toward the bed. Smiling coyly, Buffy entranced Spike with the same hip-swinging walk.

Suddenly nervous, even though Spike had acquired first-hand knowledge of her naughty bits only a few days ago, Buffy drew herself up, confidently sauntering toward Spike, her bronzed skin lit to a creamy glow by the moonlight.

Spike grinned at the slayer's renewed confidence, moving with the seductive grace that first caught his eye, watching her dance at The Bronze.

"I walked over to him…," Buffy stepped in between Spike's thighs, his hands instinctively moving to caress her thighs.

"sat in his lap…," Spike patted his thighs like some dark and twisted Santa Claus.

Buffy accepted the silent challenge and slid her silk-covered bottom against the rough denim. Spike scooted her petite body to his crotch, the slayer's heat warming his cool frame.

"What else did you do?" Spike asked huskily.

Buffy bit her lip, moving to recreate the pose she had recently held.

"I touched him here," Buffy tickled the blonde curls at the nape of Spike's neck.

"And here…,"Buffy used the fingers of her left hand to trace the bare skin above the collar of Spike's black tee, her fingers dipping down and pulling the neckline into a vee.

"Did you kiss him?" Spike coaxed with just a hint of need in his voice.

"A little…," Buffy whispered as she offered a kiss to Spike's jawline.

Spike's hands crept underneath the ruffled hem, caressing the small of Buffy's back. He hummed happily at Buffy's tender ministrations, his jeans growing tight even at this slight stimulation.

Spike held the slayer firmly to his lap and lifted his hips, inquiring suggestively, "Did he feel like this underneath you?"

Buffy moaned a little at the hard bulge pressed into her virgin core.

"Kind of…," Buffy decided. "Maybe half that hard?" she tried to estimate.

"Course—it wouldn't be quite what you feel here, luv," Spike bragged, thrusting up once more for good measure.

Awaiting Spike's judgment of her seduction technique, Buff remained perched on Spike's lap, as he seemed to be tabulating her score on skill and style.

"Well, pet, the outfit certainly is fetching…, and of course, you look beautiful," Spike smiled, absently stroking the long, golden locks of the girl called to slay creatures like him.

Buffy looked down shyly, trying to figure where she'd gone wrong. Noting her waning confidence, Spike soothed, "Buffy, if I were Peaches, I'd be buried so deep in that sweet little quim, I wouldn't let you outta' this bed for days," he drawled sultrily.

Buffy smiled at Spike's lewd suggestion.

Momentarily contemplating why Angel seemed so immune to the slayer's virginal charms, Spike decided that they would have to raise the stakes with Angel and offer the plagued vampire a prize that even his guilt-ridden soul couldn't pass up. Having direct knowledge of Angelus' favored past-times, Spike posed a question to the young beauty still warming his lap.

"Have you ever thought about using those pouty little lips for anything besides kissing?"

"Huh?" Buffy questioned confusedly.

"Oral pleasures….," Spike coaxed, though Buffy's face remained furrowed.

"Again, with the 'huh'?"

"A blow job, Slayer," Spike continued bluntly. "Have you ever sucked his—,"

Spike was cut off by Buffy's squeal of disgust.

"Eew, a world of no!" Buffy recoiled, moving to hop off Spike's lap, though he held her firmly to him.

"Now, see, there's your problem, Slayer—you want Angel to see you as a woman, but you still get all squeamish like a little girl in pigtails," Spike chastised.

"I'm sorry…I just don't understand why anyone would want to put their face down *there* on another person," Buffy insisted.

A low chuckle bubbled in Spike's belly, picking the slayer up off his lap and scooping her into his strong arms. Turning around to face the bed, Spike lay the slayer down gently, her head nestled on her favorite pillow.

Buffy suddenly grew nervous at her vulnerable position, and Spike could smell the fear beginning to brew in her body.

"Spike… what are you…," Buffy trailed off her breath catching as Spike stalked up the bed like a panther.

"Just relax, luv,…no reason to get all twitchy," Spike grinned. "Next lesson here, kitten. Let Spike give you a taste of what you're missin'…."

Much like the night above the playground, Buffy was too confused, astounded, and curious to react appropriately to Spike's advances. She should be staking him…or at least throwing him out the open window of her bedroom… but she could only summon the strength for the moan that escaped her lips when he stripped off his snug black tee and began kissing a trail from the tender spot behind Buffy's ear down the length of her soft throat.

A litany of soft reassurances came from Spike's attentive lips as he came to Buffy's jugular, her slayer senses screaming at her to stake the vampire whose lips now toyed with the pulsing vein.

"Relax, Slayer…not gonna' hurt ya'…coulda' done that already if I'd had the mind to…," Spike cajoled between kisses so tender that Buffy couldn't reconcile the image of the blonde vampire now worshipping her body with the one who had attacked her viciously not so very long ago.

"Jus' showin' ya' there's nothin' to be afraid of, pet." Spike's lips moved away from the broad blue vein at Buffy's neck and traveled down her shoulder, nudging the tiny strap of her nightie down with his chin.

At the sudden loss of tension, the neckline of the silky garment gave way, the upper slope of Buffy's breast became visible, Spike grinning at the invitation.

His lips drew a path from Buffy's shoulder to the pert mound, rising with each panting breath.

"Anyone ever kiss you here…?" Spike ran the side of his finger over the taut nipple barely covered by the crumpled black silk.

"No…," Buffy replied nervously, Spike grinning in response as he gently tugged at the scant covering, revealing the pert, rosy bud underneath.

"Beautiful, pet…," Spike praised, his tongue swirling over the puckered circle, teasing the flesh to diamond hardness.

"Spike…?" Buffy stammered for reassurance, feeling vulnerable and exposed with the blonde vampire's tongue lapping at her nipple.

"S'alright, luv," Spike's blue eyes looked up from Buffy's breast, warm with the rush of blood, holding her green gaze as his tongue made a long swipe from the crinkled areola to the tip of the swollen peak. "Supposed to feel like that ," he grinned before wrapping his lips around the fiery nipple and suckling deeply.

Buffy gasped at the sensation, arching up, so that her heated breast would not lose contact with Spike's cool tongue and mouth. Her fingers wove through the loosened curls at his nape, holding the vampire in place at her breast.

Even in this new-found sensation, the warning bells were deafening, but Buffy's sense of purpose—the need to keep Angel from returning to Drusilla's bed and lose his soul—fought to quiet her slayer instincts. And even though the sixteen-year-old couldn't admit this to herself, much less her blonde nemesis that lay at her breast, there was something exciting…something thrilling and forbidden in the initiation into sexual pleasure she was receiving from Spike.

Though otherwise devoted to Drusilla, Spike was giving Buffy indescribable pleasure; whereas, Angel, the vampire who was supposed to be in love with the young slayer, would barely even risk a lingering glance when they were alone.

When Spike hungrily snatched away the loose covering from Buffy's left breast and drew that hard point against his tongue, his demon screamed for the blood that was pounding just below his mouth. Though by most accounts, Spike was an impetuous and impatient vampire—the truth was, he had much more control than the average vamp. So even though his impulse may have been to rip into the slayer's creamy flesh and drain her dry—the sensitive, civilized man buried deep within the coarse exterior would not allow it.

Spike relished the warm, heaving breast in his mouth, and part of him would like nothing more than to remain here, nuzzling at the slayer's breast for days. The lure of her creamy, tender flesh was nearly overpowering, and the master vampire let a fang drop to prick the rosy nipple.

The slayer's initial shout of alarm quickly became a gratified moan as a tiny trickle of blood escaped the small nick. Spike nursed at the wounded breast, drawing out the aphrodisiac-laden blood until his hand that had continued to massage at her right breast had to drop to his jeans, releasing the buckle and buttons before the pressure of his swelling cock grew unbearable.

"That's…that's enough, Spike…," Buffy breathed out a small warning, even in the pure pleasure that his suckling brought. Afraid that the vampire's bloodlust might overtake their tentative truce, Buffy signaled that Spike's late supper was coming dangerously close to being his last.

Spike chuckled as he licked the tiny mark closed, "Was just a little taste, Slayer…," the master vampire shot Buffy a little-boy pout that quickly turned into a sexy leer, snaking his way down her flat stomach, drawing circles in the hollow of her belly button with his tongue. "Remember, pet, vampires tend to get a little…nibbly during sex," Spike playfully tickled at the slayer's ribs with blunt teeth, eliciting a squirming giggle from the nearly-naked blonde beneath him, her hips bucking off the bed in unwitting temptation.

Buffy's laughter stilled, her dancing green eyes meeting Spike's steady gaze as he studied her.

"My bites didn't hurt, did they?" Spike rhetorically inquired.

With a shameful blush rising to her cheeks, Buffy shook her head, silently admitting the satisfaction she'd received from the gentle piercings she'd submitted to.

"They felt…really nice…," Buffy confessed, her reaction to the small pulls Spike had taken running counter to all her slayer training and instincts.

"It's not like that little souvenir you got there from ol' Batface," Spike nodded to the scars that Buffy sported on her neck, courtesy of Darla's disfigured sire. Her hand went to the marks in the self-conscious reminder of her brief death.

"There is more than one kind of vampire bite, luv," Spike smirked as he continued with suckling kisses against her warm skin.

Spike scooted down Buffy's body slowly, kissing and toying at the bronzed flesh with his teeth, breathing deeply the air, rich with the slayer's rising scent. He tugged loose the crumpled nightie, sliding it sensuously down the slayer's skin, dimpled with excitement. Abandoning her fears of exposure in exchange for the blissful temptation that her blonde nemesis offered, Buffy lifted her hips instinctively, allowing Spike to whisk the garment from her trembling body.

Reaching the heated valley of her thighs, the peroxide blonde smiled against Buffy's bronzed skin when his chin met smooth silk. He felt Buffy's muscles tense as his mouth came to the silk-covered cleft of her sex. His fingers spread around the slayer's hips, massaging in small circles.

"Just relax, pet," Spike cooed, delivering soft kisses to the buttery, black fabric at his lips. "Promise, you'll like it…."

Buffy moaned as Spike nestled in the furrow of her swollen nether-lips, the blonde vampire breathing deeply the rich scent collected in the now-sodden scrap of material.

"So am I the first to see this hidden treasure, Slayer?" Spike quirked a scarred eyebrow from beneath Buffy's thighs where he had resumed nuzzling at the triangle of dark silk.

"Since I was a baby," Buffy replied wryly, trying to maintain a brave face, even in her vulnerability.

Spike chuckled softly to himself as he looped his thumbs through the tiny straps at Buffy's hips. How he wished he could throw his triumph in Angelus' face—the first to make his beloved slayer come, the first to taste her sweet honey, and if the gods were willing—his would be the first cock the sweet, young thing would wrap her lips around.

Sadly, as much as Spike may have wanted to, revealing his especial knowledge of young Buffy to his brooding grandsire wouldn't serve their purpose. And even if Drusilla figured out Spike and Buffy's desperate machinations, Angel tended to either ignore or misinterpret the prophetic vampiress's crazed ramblings.

'Sod it,' Spike decided, even though there was a greater purpose for currently being between the slayer's thighs, he was sure as hell going to enjoy himself while he was there.

With a seductive leer, Spike tugged down the tiny threads, Buffy lifting her bottom from the bed in little-girl trepidation as her mortal enemy slid her tiny, black panties down.

Spike pulled slowly, momentarily pausing as he uncovered Buffy's tender, bare mound, the sixteen-year-old's blush shining in the moonlight-filled room. Spike drank in the lusciously innocent sight before him—the virginal slayer's long blonde hair splayed across her pillow, biting her lip till she drew blood, and completely bare except for the black panties paused in their descent.

"Cor, Slayer, but you're beautiful, Spike exhaled, his erection grinding painfully against the brass teeth of his loosened zipper.

"Spike…," Buffy whispered in nervous apprehension, feeling terribly exposed under Spike's studious gaze.

Shaken out of his immobility, Spike returned to his task, swiftly stripping Buffy of the sexy undergarment that belied her inexperience.

The blonde vampire breathed deep at the rich silk, soaked in Buffy's fragrant juices, reminding himself to pocket them when the slayer wasn't looking.

Rocking back on his knees, Spike smiled lasciviously at the sight of the dewy folds parting from Buffy's slick nectar. The young slayer's chest tightened and stomach clenched as she steeled herself for Spike's next move.

Buffy's brows furrowed when Spike's feet landed on the floor.

"What are you…?"

"Just getting' comfy, Slayer," Spike smirked, shucking his jeans off after surreptitiously hiding Buffy's tiny knickers in his back pocket.

"Yeah…ok…," Buffy squeaked as she took in Spike's impressive form, fashioned like one of those Greek statues of carved marble, except for the fact that Spike sported a more impressive package than any piece of antiquated artwork.

Buffy was momentarily torn between fearing that Spike would lose control and drive his demanding cock into her, stripping away the virginity she held so dear-and, on the other hand, hoping he would.

"What are you going to do?" Buffy questioned shakily, trying to remind herself of the reasons why having a vicious, naked master vampire between her legs was a good idea.

Spike mounted the bed, stalking up on hands and knees, once again in masterful command of the slayer's sexual initiation.

"Nothing you won't enjoy, pet," Spike cooed seductively.

Buffy shuddered and tensed at the feel of Spike's lips offering lingering kisses at her instep…the curve of her calf…the tender spot behind each knee. When his kisses reached the quivering expanse of her inner thigh, his blonde curls, dislodged of their gelled hold, tickled at her sensitive folds, sending tingles skittering up Buffy's spine. Buffy couldn't quite reconcile the brutal monster that first attacked her during open house with the man placing soft, delicate kisses on all her untouched places.

Buffy's heartbeat raced as the blonde vampire neared her bare sex; her scent flooded the air. Noting her readiness, Spike looked up from his prize, his dancing blue eyes locking with Buffy's wide green ones.

"So, Slayer,…you were asking why anyone would want to put their mouth down here?" Spike leered. A wicked smiled spread across his face just before parting Buffy's swollen nether lips with a deep swipe of his tongue.

"Oh, God," Buffy gasped at the sensation of Spike's cool tongue tasting her tender flesh, every nerve ending fiery in his wake.

Spike chuckled against Buffy's pink flesh, "Not quite, pet…," he quipped before sending his tongue deep to lap at her sweet juices, "But you do taste like heaven…."

Spike's tongue traced the slick oval of Buffy's sex, not allowing one drop of her tangy sweetness to escape his eager mouth.

"Quite the nummy treat…."

Needy whimpers escaped Buffy's throat when Spike's cool tongue dipped repeatedly into her tight, hungry passage, mimicking the act of which she remained innocent. Her nectar was heady with sweetness and spice, Spike judging that its deliciousness rivaled only her blood.

"So ripe…so warm…," Spike's adoration was muffled in his refusal to abandon the succulent treasure at his lips. The master vampire had tried to convince himself that his liaison with the slayer was all in the name of educating the young virgin in the ways of vampire seduction, but her fiery flesh, the warm cocktail that flowed into his mouth, the needy mewls and experimental lift of the slayer's hips against his face urged Spike on to bring Buffy the pleasure that only he was willing to give.

"Beautiful quim," Spike praised, delving into her juicy folds time and again, chuckling to himself as his actions left the inexperienced slayer grinding harder against the arch of his nose, seeking the friction she had not known she'd wanted.

Spike teased the young blonde even further, his tongue traveling down past her snug channel to the sensitive flesh below. His demon snickered as a surprised squeak escaped Buffy's mouth when Spike's tongue dipped to toy with the tight rosebud the young slayer had never imagined as a pleasurable place. Strong, pale fingers kneaded the suddenly-bunched muscles as Spike lapped at the fresh arousal running down to meet his tongue. Even in her nervousness, Buffy's body could not deny the devilish sensations Spike was creating.

The slayer's taut body ached—ached for friction…ached for filling, and her plaintive whimpers grew louder when Spike returned to play in her folds, but satisfaction remained just out of reach.

Even in his superior knowledge, Spike wanted to Buffy to act like the slayer in bed as well as the graveyard. He wanted her to demand satisfaction, to gain confidence; and if he got the pleasure of keeping that blissful release out of her grasp for a few moments—then all the better.

"What do you need, Slayer?" Spike queried between long, teasing licks of Buffy's nether lips.

"I don't…I don't know, Spike," Buffy nearly sobbed, Spike batting away the tiny hands that tried to clasp her needy button.

"Yes, you do…Show me, Buffy," Spike insisted as his tongue drew a taunting arch against the fleshy ridge of Buffy's cleft, knowing damn well that the withheld friction would drive her to distraction.

"Gah!" Buffy exclaimed, forcefully gripping at the peroxide curls between her legs and grinding her aching clit against Spike's naughty tongue.

"There's my good girl," Spike cooed, giving the distended pearl long licks of his cool tongue.

"Quit talking and suck my clit, dammit!" the slayer demanded.

"Yes, m'am," Spike joked, causing Buffy's grip to tighten on his hair, the accommodating vampire suckling rhythmically on the tiny knot of nerves. Feeling one hand free itself from his scalp, Spike smiled as her unoccupied hand loosened one of his from her thrusting hip and guided it underneath her angled thighs. Spike rewarded the demanding blonde by slipping a finger in her needy passage.

"Oh…yeah…," Buffy acknowledged with groans of pleasure, her hips instinctively rising and falling to hungrily feast on Spike's invading digit.

Spike's cock strained against the soft, cotton sheets, impossibly hard and threatening to spill untouched on the slayer's virginal bed. Her snug channel clutched at his finger, and the blonde vampire could only imagine how his dick would feel inside that powerful, little body.

"More, Spike…please," Buffy called, sincerely wishing at this moment that Angel didn't know she was a virgin.

Spike hummed greedily against her engorged pearl as he slipped in a second finger inside her snug, slickened box. He was gratified as the eager slayer fucked herself harder against his digits. Ready to watch the ball of fire fly apart, Spike curved his fingers upward, revealing to Buffy exactly what her G-spot was there for.

Buffy's pent-up need shimmered from her like the distortion of heat rising off desert sand. Spike slipped in a third finger, leaving his pinky to toy at her back entrance. Buffy's panting breaths began to grow short, and the force of her thrusts threatened Spike's undoing. His questing fingers nearly mocked him as he prodded against the thin membrane that Angel was meant to strip away.

"Spike…,' Buffy panted in anticipation, "*Spike*," she repeated in emphasis.

Her invocation spurred Spike to let a fang drop and slip into the puffy flesh that guarded Buffy's straining clit. As the small pull of blood coupled with the sweet juices of her sex on Spike's tongue, the sound of his name echoed off the slayer's bedroom walls.

"SPIKE!" Buffy screamed in her pleasure, colors flashing behind the eyes screwed tight in overwhelming release.

Spike's thumb drew out the electrical storm that emanated from Buffy's core, his tongue momentarily abandoning her blood to lap at the rich wine that poured from her pulsing cunt. His tongue eagerly stroked the walls that pulsed around him. Some errant but profound part of the blonde vampire would have been willing to betray his ripe, wicked plum and play in the slayer's sunshine all night.

He slid his fingers in gently again to help soothe the needy ache as Buffy's tight walls sought for purchase against something solid and hard. With a feline grace, his cool tongue licked at the tangy spending s that had escaped his tongue, mentally chastising himself for such blasphemy. When he felt the pulses slow and her nerve endings shudder from an overdose of stimulation, Spike pulled out his coated fingers, giving each long, sumptuous licks, as a child would a popsicle, Buffy watching in fascination as Spike reveled in her spendings.

With a chuckling smile, watching the myriad of thoughts and emotions play across the young slayer's face, Spike began his slow ascent back up Buffy's body, again mapping her body with kisses en route. The young slayer's sensitized flesh puckered in goosebumps at the light kisses, Buffy trying to suppress a girlish giggle as the white curls came nearer her flaxen ones.

A shocked and muffled groan issued from the petite blonde's throat when Spike reached her mouth, still open to take in great gulps of breath. For a moment, he let his weight settle against Buffy's own, his rock-hard cock nestled against the still-pulsing lips below.

Spike planted a hungry kiss on Buffy's unsuspecting mouth, allowing her to taste her own juices still lingering on his lips.

Before tonight, the thought of tasting her own spendings would've caused Buffy to scrunch her nose and turn away in disgust—but, now, in the heat haze of her tremendous orgasm, Buffy licked greedily at Spike's lips, plunging her tongue into the cool cavern of his mouth that tasted of tobacco and whiskey coupled with her blood and her sex.

Spike silently crowed at the slayer's enthusiasm, and hoped that her inhibitions would remain on hiatus for a while longer, yet.

"So…did I change your mind about mouths in naughty places, Slayer…?" Spike grinned and cajoled like a wicked boy wanting pie before supper.

"Maybe…," Buffy teased with school-girl charm. Her breath hitched at the feel of Spike's stiff member sliding rhythmically against her sensitive cleft. While her trepidation was still acute, Buffy was at least wondering what it would be like…how Spike's cock would feel in her mouth…what would happen when he came….

Spike could very nearly hear all the silent questions rolling around in the slayer's head. While his vampiric tendency would typically prod him to belittle and taunt his nemesis in her inexperience and trepidation, the master vampire reigned in his nastier inclinations—not only would he miss his chance at luring Angelus away from Drusilla, but he would also miss out on teaching the slayer all the wickedly wonderful ways of the world…well…some of them, at least.

"I'd like to give it a try," Buffy broke Spike out of reverie.

"Come again?"

Buffy blushed in the dimly lit room, nervously repeating her answer.

"A blow job," she said with anxiety-laced determination. "I'd like to try and give you a blow job," she baldly declared.

Spike's eyes twinkled as his grin spread broadly across his face.

"And I would *love* to be the bloke that you practice on," Spike chuckled, flipping them over with lightning speed.

"Wha—," Buffy, furrowed her brow in confusion.

"So you can be in control, luv," Spike explained Buffy's dominant positioning. "Explore all you want…plenty of time…only take as much as you like," the blonde vampire coaxed, smoothing Buffy's honeyed locks behind her ear as she lay on top of him. While this odd tutorial was a test of the vampire's patience, Spike knew that, one way or another, only good could come out of his graciousness.

"You'll let me know when you…," Buffy hedged, biting her lip and glancing away, a little fearful of the fateful moment.

"As any gentleman would do," Spike insisted, which was met with a quirked eyebrow from Buffy.

"I promise," Spike assured, trailing his fingers along the curves of Buffy's bronzed back. "Nothin' to be afraid of, pet."

"Ok…," Buffy whispered, her wide green eyes meeting Spike's ethereal blue.

Grinning broadly, Spike fisted his hand in Buffy's silky hair, capturing her mouth in a ravenous kiss, both tongues twining round each other until Buffy gasped for air, the warmth of her panting breaths heating Spike's pale flesh as Buffy turned to nibble at the tender curve behind Spike's ear.

"You'll tell me what you like…," Buffy breathed out.

"Yes…," Spike groaned in return, Buffy nibbling and suckling down the corded muscles of his throat.

The young slayer was emboldened by Spike's response to her mere kisses, wondering at the colorful invectives he might use when she finally reached the proud, jutting member that was currently prodding at her belly.

Closing her eyes, even in the intimate presence of the master vampire, Buffy suckled at the unmarked side of Spike's neck, causing the blonde vampire to writhe and buck with every nip and nibble. Her confidence growing, she grinned mischievously, teasing Spike with rougher bites, until she inadvertently tasted blood and could hear the crunch of bone as it began to shift, Spike fighting his instinct.

"Buffy…," the blonde vampire moaned in warning.

"Sorry…," she whispered, smiling as she moved further down Spike's body. He had quelled the transformation that Buffy had begun through her biting play.

"No…don't be…," Spike breathed out as he stroked his cool fingers down the length of Buffy's pulse, having relished the attention at his neck even at the risk of vamping out.

When Buffy came to the flat bronze coin of a nipple, she flicked the tip of her tongue experimentally, which was rewarded with a hiss of unnecessary indrawn breath and a thrust of eager hips. Spurred on, Buffy toyed the tender skin between her teeth.

"Suck them a little," Spike encouraged, tangling her golden locks in his pale fingers.

Buffy pursed her lips tightly, pulling at the tiny nub of flesh, causing the vampire underneath her to gasp in pleasure. Treating its mate to the same attentions, Buffy feared that Spike might come even before she had a chance to get near his dick.

Snaking her way down Spike's tight, muscular torso, Buffy tongued a trail down the vampire's rigid abdomen, stopping for a little teasing when she dipped inside his ticklish belly button.

"Slayer…," Spike chuckled, squirming a little at her special brand of torture.

Buffy giggled a little as she traveled further down, Spike's abdomen rippling as Buffy's lips inched ever lower.

Buffy's fingers met a thatch of dark, tight curls, as Spike's rigid cock slid down the soft line of Buffy's jaw. Full lips turned to graze along that firm shaft of flesh, tongue darting out to lave the blonde vampire's aching member.

"Ah…yes, pet…that's it…," Spike sighed as Buffy began to explore his needy flesh, her pouting mouth tenderly caressing the velvet skin that wrapped the steel inside.

The intrepid slayer gave the long, thick shaft popsicle licks, receiving murmurs of praise and encouragement with every attentive pass. Mapping every ridge and vein, the slight curve of his impressive length, Buffy considered the thick column that prodded at her fantasies, wondering how Spike's cock would feel inside her.

Having ministered to every inch of Spike's length, the curious slayer slid back the foreskin, revealing the swollen peak and its glistening tip. Buffy's tongue circled the rigid head, eliciting pleased gasps from Spike as she swiped her tongue along the underside of the sensitive crown.

"Wicked little tongue…," Spike praised as Buffy sparked his needy flesh. Her right hand that had rested at the root clasped around the thick member, grasping Spike's eager cock. She began to jerk his cock with rapid, forceful strokes like she had seen in some cheesy teenage comedy, only to feel Spike's hand gently wrap around her tiny one, slowing her pace a bit and directing her rhythm.

"Just like that, kitten…."

Once Buffy's right hand was around his turgid shaft, and her lips and tongue still worshipped at his cool length, Spike gently guided her left hand to his sac.

"No slayer strength on the jewels, though," Spike gently teased as Buffy caressed the full globes.

Her lilting giggle reverberated as she hummed across Spike's flesh.

Clear, slick pearls eddied at the tip of Spike's cock, ready to spread their cool slickness down his hungry length.

"Taste me…," Spike urged.

Buffy's tongue circled upward to dip inside the slit and indulge in the clear, salty fluid. Swirling her tongue as though licking an ice cream, Buffy made broad swipes against the plum-colored head, gathering all the slick essence of Spike on her tongue.

Spike had tried to remain passive and patient, but the sweeps and curls of Buffy's tongue were driving him to distraction. Desperate for more contact, Spike's pleas echoed off the bedroom walls.

"Take me in your mouth…please, Buffy," Spike wailed, his hips rising to seek greater contact.

Without hesitation, Buffy thrust the column of cool flesh into the warm cavern of her mouth, bringing forth a lust-filled moan from Spike's throat. Buffy's hands continued to massage his needy flesh, as her mouth suckled and pulled at the rigid cock.

"Oh…your sweet, beautiful mouth," Spike praised, pale hands wrapped in double-fistfuls of hair.

"Pouty lips wrapped around my cock…."

Spike's lascivious words, which normally would have repelled the young blonde, now instead encouraged her, driving Buffy to make Spike lose all sense of control.

Buffy dove deeper with every explicit outburst from the peroxide vampire, full lips meeting her small fist on every downward stroke. Attentive hands massaged tight balls, traveled back to pleasurable flesh, even curious fingers traced the cleft between taut buttocks, making her companion moan and writhe.

With every plunge and pull of her eager mouth, Buffy tried to take more of Spike's impressive length, the young blonde never being one to turn down a challenge. In her eagerness to master Spike's lessons, her throat rebelled as Buffy tried to reach even further.

"Easy, pet…just relax and swallow…," Spike guided gently, though he inwardly crowed at Buffy's determination.

Heeding Spike's instructions, Buffy contracted her throat around nearly all of Spike's rigid size, quickly gauging by Spike's reaction that her slayer strength was useful for more than just fighting. Every muscle of Spike's body was taut, lungs sucking in great gasps of unneeded air, hips thrusting upward, despite his best intentions.

"Christ, Buffy!" Spike shouted, his body wound tight, like a spiraled coil.

Buffy's wet mouth painted the flesh between her lips with warm slickness, her silky blonde hair falling like a curtain over the vampire's belly and thighs. She let her teeth graze gently against his pale flesh, measuring her efforts by Spike's vehement praise.

"Fucking me with your mouth…," Spike groaned, meeting Buffy's hot cavern with his eager cock, until the delicious pressure building throughout his body reached its breaking point.

After a few more deep pulls of Buffy's mouth, her cheeks hollowed in enthusiastic force, Spike groaned out the words he promised her.

"God, Slayer!" Spike called out, his muscles tensed and his balls drawn tightly to his body. "Buffy…I'm coming…."

Spike tried to hold off long enough for Buffy to relinquish her position, but the determined young blonde's pouting lips grazed coarse, dark curls, her throat rippling around Spike's ready cock as she gently squeezed the taut sac beneath.

"Buffy…luv…," Spike called in a strained, panting warning before shouting his release in a string of appreciative curses and flooding Buffy's mouth with ropes of his cool spendings. Buffy swallowed down the salty mouthful, determined to fulfill her task as expertly as possible, tending to the needy flesh as Spike's cock pulsed in her tight, hot mouth.

Just as Buffy released Spike's spent member and took a deep breath to fill her lungs, the initiate found herself pinned underneath the vampire's weight, Spike's forehead touching her own as they panted in synchronous gasps.

"Spike…?" Buffy question nervously. His cool cock hardened again almost instantly, and had slipped through yet another pair of wet, slick lips. The tender, pink flesh caressed the insistent member, though opening ever so graciously as the swollen head toyed at Buffy's entrance, sliding forward only an inch or so.

"Spike…we shouldn't…," Buffy gently admonished, her voice full of longing and regret.

"Wasn't goin' to, luv…," Spike kept his eyes screwed shut, trying harder than ever to control his impulses and his hunger. "Just a little…that's all…," the blonde vampire opened his eyes and smiled down at Buffy, his muscles flexing almost imperceptibly as just the swollen knob nudged inside her heated passage, before sliding back again. "Knew you'd feel amazing…," Spike confirmed as a strained whisper escaped his lips.

Buffy's passage ached to feel the full length of Spike inside her, to have that luscious, thick member finding those places buried deep inside and setting her on fire with its delicious friction. She was so very nearly ready t say 'Fuck it all,' let Dru have Angel if she wanted him so damn bad, and stake the both of them if she had to. The slayer's pulse rang loudly in her ears as her throbbing channel sought purchase against the guest that was knocking but would not come in.

Spike watched the hungry green eyes beneath him as Buffy responded to his unexpected intrusion. He felt her muscles tense…her heart rate increase…and for a moment he feared that he may have pushed things too far in his lust-addled haze and would be finding himself on the wrong end of the stake hidden under her pillow.

But then, Buffy's scent filled the warm, night air once more. The slight rhythm of her body lightly grinding against his faltered as her thrust deepened just a bit more.

"We can't, luv...," Spike choked out, betraying his body's desires as he stilled their hips, though holding his position for a moment longer. "It's gotta' be perfect for him…, yeah?" Spike whispered the bitter truth before taking a resigned breath, placing a gentle kiss to Buffy's forehead, and rolling onto his back, pulling Buffy to rest on his chest.

"I guess so," Buffy mumbled against Spike's chest, a little sniffle escaping at the fresh memories of Angel's betrayal and rejection. Once, she could think of nothing but giving her virginity to Angel, how absolutely ideal it would be, but after seeing him with Drusilla that night, her anticipation gave way to resignation, wondering how she would be able to love him again.

Catching the tinge of salt that colored the air, Spike quickly brought Buffy's face up from his chest, "Oh…kitten…no…," he brushed the hair away from Buffy's distraught face, soothing her with eager kisses. "Peaches doesn't come close to deserving you, pet," Spike said with a grin, draping Buffy's right leg across his abdomen as she lay on her side.

Buffy wryly chuckled in agreement, her melancholy broken by Spike's attentive hand snaking down the cleft of her ass. Smiling, Buffy agreed with Spike's estimation of Angel.

"You're right—he doesn't deserve me," the petite slayer snarked, grinding playfully against Spike's hip bone. Though logically understanding why she and Spike couldn't take things any further, her body had stopped listening to her brain much earlier that night. The thrill of making Spike lose control, of getting just a taste of that hard cock inside her had churned her desire once again.

Spike was glad to see Buffy's mood lift again though he groaned inwardly at the feel of her wet heat once more. He knew he had left her wanting, much to his regret. His fingers dipped down, drawing light playful paths at her swollen nether lips.

"But then again…I don't deserve you either, pet," Spike crooned sultrily, his fingers slipping through to tease at Buffy's hungry entrance.

"No…?" Buffy questioned breathily, grinding against Spike's hip bone as his finger slipped further inside.

Spike shook his head slightly though he wore a leering smile, deciding there was no reason to end such a lovely night on a grim note.

"I'm a bad, rude man, luv…but at least I admit it," Spike grinned, slipping another finger inside, making Buffy gasp.

The slender fingers that had been absently toying with a flat nipple slid down to the jutting cock below, Spike groaning in pleasure at her touch.

"I guess you do," Buffy's huskily concurred as her wet channel molded to Spike's fingers. Her grip tightened around Spike's cock, her thigh brushing against his balls with each roll of her hips.

Still astonished that her mortal enemy (or immortal, as the case may be) could be naked in her bed, fingers buried deep inside her, Buffy wondered at the bizarre change in their relationship.

"So…what's going to happen when we meet in the cemetery…or some dark alley…and you're about to start snacking on the good citizens of Sunnydale?" Buffy posed the very pertinent question, though made no move to extract herself from Spike's attentive hands.

"I expect we'll fight, luv," Spike grinned offhandedly as his fingers pumped languidly into her slick channel.

"Really?" Buffy grinned, a mixture of amusement and surprise on her face. "Even after all this?"

"Oh, Slayer…I'd never want to give that up," he replied avidly. "Get off on fightin' with you, pet."

"Yeah?" Buffy panted, her hand sliding against velvety skin as she ground her wet heat against his hard, pale body.

"But then…after we put on a good show for everyone," Spike predicted in a low, husky drawl, trailing kisses down the length of Buffy's tender neck. "I'd lure you away…find some dark corner where nobody would think to look…," Spike continued as Buffy arched her back in hopeful anticipation. "Unbutton your blouse…unsnap your bra…" his mouth traveled down from the delicate bones of her throat to the rise of softened flesh and thrumming beat.

"Reach up under that short little skirt…"

Spike continued to finger Buffy with long slow strokes that she matched with her own.

"Pull down those tiny panties you like to wear…"

Spike was rewarded with a fresh rush of Buffy's arousal coating his fingers.

"And make you really glad you couldn't stake me," Spike captured Buffy's left nipple in his mouth, sucking voraciously as his fingers thrust deeply inside, Buffy matching Spike's attentive rhythm with her own.

The fangs that pierced Buffy's tender nipple magnified her orgasm ten-fold, and the heated blood that Spike drank contrasted sharply with the cool seed that coated her hand and his belly. Buffy panted as she allowed Spike to nurse for a few moments longer before recovering her senses and wrenching him away with her fist clutching his peroxide curls.

"Sorry, pet," Spike pouted like a wounded puppy dog, his forehead smoothing and eyes returning to their usual luminous blue. "You did take away my happy meal, after all," he teased, faulting his fantasy.

"You're a pig, Spike" Buffy automatically accused, though softened by the roll of her eyes and the slight shaking of her head, as he lapped at the small wounds.

"But do I at least get to keep the toy surprise?" he waggled his eyebrows and playfully suckled at the untended breast, nibbling at the nipple with blunt teeth.

"Not unless you want Mr. Pointy for dessert," Buffy snarked, provoking Spike to promptly pin Buffy beneath him, tickling her unmercifully with deft fingers and playful nibbles.

"What—no teeny, tiny ice cream? Cute little curlicue at the top?" Spike bit and nipped from Buffy's neck to the tip of a breast, making her squirm and writhe as she laughed.

"Huh-uh," she denied, teasingly trying to wriggle out of Spike's grasp.

"Cookie?" he bargained.

"No," Buffy replied flatly, trying to scoot further up the pillows, leaving Spike lasciviously between her legs.

"Cherry pie?' he queried, dropping his voice to a lusty growl.

"You wish," Buffy cocked an eyebrow, grinning at the blonde vampire between her thighs.

"You'd better believe it, Goldilocks," Spike countered, delivering a wet kiss right between her thighs.

"No way, Big Bad…" Buffy put on her resolve face and rolled away from Spike before he could start *that* again, because unlike a certain peroxide vampire, *she* didn't have the luxury of sleeping the day away.

"Now there you go—mixing your metaphors."

Buffy turned over onto her stomach, hiding her more intriguing bits from Spike, lest he talk her into another round of "tutoring."

"Nope—not me—Buffy and metaphors—definitely unmixy," Buffy's horrible pun trailing off in a gasp as Spike crawled on top of her, playfully pinning her face down against the bed.

"What about Buffy and showers, then? Are they unmixy as well?" Spike crooned low in her ear, his hard cock nestled snugly in the cleft of Buffy's bottom as he tempted with the watery diversion.

"No—Buffy and showers are very mixy. Buffy, showers and Spike—not so much."

"Aww-come on, Slayer…we've got to," Spike pouted, wriggling against her even further.

"And why is that?" Buffy challenged as she looked over her shoulder, smiling.

Spike stilled, his weight still pressed deliciously against Buffy's body, his forehead coming to rest against the back of her shoulder in the moments before he could answer.

"Because I'm covered in you, Buffy…."

ooooooo

So on Revello Drive, the vampire slayer and her nemesis showered together, Spike finally talking Buffy into one more mutual orgasm before he had to leave, making good use of the vanilla bath gel and detachable shower massage. But Buffy drew the line when Spike threatened to call Sunnydale High and excuse Buffy Summers as her 'daddy' needed her at home that day.

The two blondes spent their remaining moments tempting and teasing, cracking dirty jokes and washing dirty places. Neither wanted to be reminded of the reason Spike came to the slayer's window that night…that every morning now, Dru reeked of Angel's blood and sex…that his dark princess was probably on her knees for her 'daddy' at that very moment…that the security of Angel's soul grew more tenuous as the pixies' voices grew louder in Drusilla's head.

Spike tucked a yawning Buffy back into bed, the sleepy slayer grumbling in agreement when Spike reminded her to change the sheets before she left for school. Raking the wet hair away from her face with his fingers, Spike growled low in his throat when he thought what Buffy would have to do to lure Angel away from Drusilla. He sighed heavily when he considered Drusilla's vengeance when Buffy did. Spike could feel the dawn approaching , and knew that he must leave and return to the factory, else wind up scattered in the morning breeze. He thought briefly of hunting for a "Buffy-approved" meal, but he was well-satisfied from the few mouthfuls of slayer blood he had taken and wryly figured that Drusilla had already "been fed" by his poofter of a grandsire.

He sat down on the edge of her bed to slide his boots back on, and bending over to straighten his jeans once more, found a grungy but beloved stuffed pig on the floor.

Spike couldn't help but notice that it smelled distinctly like Buffy. Chuckling quietly to himself, he brought the animal to his face and breathed deeply, and was fascinated at how the layers of Buffy were embedded in this dime-store acquisition.

He could scent the years of talcum and tearless shampoo…

Could discern sputtered kool-aid and peanut-buttered fingers…

Could note when her body began to change, hormones and glands crafting a heady cocktail that no junior high boy could ignore…

And then when she was called as the chosen one…beaten…torn…bitten…in the graveyards every night…sometimes at his own hand…

The smell of copper…and iron…from her blood, no doubt…

Then salt tears…shed for…an absent father…?

No…too fresh, he realized

His grandsire, perhaps?

'Bastard doesn't deserve them', Spike sighed to himself.

And lastly…that little hint of vanilla that she wore so sweetly.

Spike chuckled at the fact that he, too, smelled faintly of the confectionary scent, and that he probably ought to find an open grave to roll around in before returning home.

He could just say that he fought the slayer, and picked up her scent as they wrestled on the ground.

'Then again,' he scoffed, 'what good does it do to lie when you're living with a clairvoyant?'

Dismissing any certain retribution as nothing worse than he'd experienced before, Spike again eyed the decrepit pig, picking off a free-loading dust bunny and fluffing up the matted hair under its chin, Spike tucked the pig under Buffy's arm, the sleeping slayer snuggling into the favorite animal. Spike smiled sadly as he stroked her hair once more.

Leaning down, Spike kissed Buffy on the cheek, whispering, "Sweet dreams, Slayer," before climbing out her window, landing with feline grace to the ground below, and taking off for the west, trying to outrun the first light of morning.

ooooooooo