Spike was waiting outside.
"Nice work, love," he said, exhaling a stream of smoke. "Now I'm starved and I'm homeless."
"Fuck off, Spike," Buffy said softly, walking past him.
"Ooh, learning dirty words from your evil twin?" He followed her.
She turned to him. "Can you tell me what just happened in there?"
"Yeah. You went and ran your gob and now we're both in trouble with Daddy."
A tear slid down Buffy's cheek. "I hate you."
"Hey, don't blame me for botching up your bloody Harlequin Everlasting novel--"
"What did you do with Faith tonight?"
That, he didn't expect. "Is that all you came here for? You could've called and asked me just the same."
"Shut up! What did you do?"
"Don't lie to me."
When he saw her eyes filling with fresh tears, he buckled. "Well, almost nothing." He added quickly, "I did my bloody best to be good -- for you! To whisk that nutter away from here, stop
her from eviscerating your chums!"
"And in the process we may have... done a thing or two."
She waited for elaboration.
"Oh, come on, Buffy, don't make me say it."
"You had sex with her." And that was officially that. "Whatever. I get it."
"No! Look, if you must know, I kept hearing your annoying little..." He breathed in, started over. "I couldn't do it."
She frowned in confusion as she wiped her tears with her sleeve.
"Oh, what, you want me to spell it out? Fine! You've made me bloody impotent for anyone other than you! Happy now?"
After a moment, Buffy began to shake... with laughter.
"Guess you are," Spike surmised as her husky guffaw echoed through the empty street. "I'll never get to shag anyone again, and you're laughing."
"Oh," she said, recovering. "No. I'm sorry. How did she handle that?"
"Threw me out straight away. Much like your buggery ex just did."
Buffy stopped laughing.
"Not so funny anymore, is it?"
"Spike," she said with a sigh, "why'd you have to come into my life and screw everything up?"
"Strike that," he said. "Reverse it."
They walked down the sidewalk past a row of parked cars on the otherwise deserted street. "I guess cabs don't frequent the monster district. We better figure out how to get home."
"To Sunnyhell? What about the boys in green?"
Yeah, he wasn't afraid of them either.
"I took the last bus of the night... We'll have to camp out at the station."
"I got a better idea." He hopped into a classic convertible and gunned the engine. "Get in, kitten."
Hands on her hips, she said, "Spike, where did you get those keys?"
"It's a secret," he said with mischievous glee.
"We are not stealing Angel's car!" She snatched the keys and tossed them under the seat, then opened the driver's side door. "Out."
"Party pooper," he groused, emerging from the car. "Should have stuck with the other one."
"Oh, that was definitely not noth--"
"Well, lookie here," a gruff voice said behind them. "Fresh blood."
The two turned.
A gang of vampires.
Buffy and Spike shared a look.
"What are you smiling at, pendejo?" the leader said, puffing out his chest. "You're about to die."
"If that's what you think," Spike said, strolling up to him, "you're in for the shock of your unlife."
"Boy howdy," Buffy concurred.
Keeping Spike in his sights, the leader asided to his cronies, "Grab the girl. Save her for me."
"Well said." The sprog couldn't have been more than a few years old and here he was, posturing like some kind of... him.
"No, please don't hurt me!" Buffy overacted as two lackeys nabbed her from either side. "I'm just a weak, defenseless co-ed from the suburbs!"
"Adorable, isn't she?" Spike said to the leader. "Sometimes I could just eat her up."
The vamp grabbed him by the collar, clearly not getting the hint. "I'm gonna suck you dry."
"But we've only just met," Spike replied lasciviously.
"You're a little hottie," one of Buffy's captors told her, holding her face toward him. "Hope he changes you."
"Hope he changes your diapers first," she said, nose awrinkle. "You reek."
The vamps looked at each other, astonished. "What the fuck did you just say to me, bitch?"
"Even dead people can maintain good hygiene. Look at Spike!"
"Spike?" they said in unison.
The gangleader was on his knees, held in a death-grip by William the Bloody, demon face on.
"What kind of vampire," Spike said conversationally, "can't even spot his own kind?"
"But you--" the leader croaked fearfully. "But she's not--"
"And what kind of vampire," Spike said as he held him up to face Buffy, "can't tell a slayer when he sees one?"
"A... a slayer?"
Spike pulled a stake out of his pocket and jammed it through the leader's back. Reciting a silent prayer, he exploded into dust.
"Hey!" Buffy shot her feet upward, hitting both captors in the face, then staked them in succession. By the time they disintegrated, the others had scurried away.
She turned to Spike. "Dumbass."
"Now what's your problem?"
She pointed to the dust at his feet. "He was mine. I was saving him for last!"
"Oh sorry, love, guess I couldn't hear your instructions over all the not communicating you were doing!" He squinted at her. "I know what this is. You're jealous that I got the big slay. Did little Buffy never learn to share?"
"There's a method. Everyone knows there's a method--"
"Or maybe it's just that you're an enormous control freak."
"--little bads first, big bads last!"
"That's the stupidest method I ever heard! He could've gotten away -- or worse, killed you!"
"You think I'm an amateur, Spike? I'm the Slayer!"
"Yeah, no kidding." He got in her face. "You're the reason I got this soddin' chip in my head!"
"No, you're the reason you got that chip in your head!" She stepped closer. "If you had just left me alone like any normal, slayer-fearing vampire would--"
Having reached his limit, Spike took her by the shoulders, rammed her against the nearest vertical surface, and smashed his lips to hers.
She cried out in protest... at first. But when it became clear that he wasn't going to stop, her cries turned into yearning little mewls that made him rock hard.
Then she wrapped her fingers around his head and slipped her tongue into his mouth.
"Spike," she gasped, when he moved to kiss her neck.
"Oh Buffy," he said, tasting every bit of salty skin he had access to, running his hands over every curve he could reach.
"I want you," she found herself saying.
Spike growled into her skin in response.
Pinned against the wall, she wrapped her legs around him as he ground into her.
"Need you," Spike said as her moist heat burned him through two sets of jeans. Before he could think, he'd unbuttoned her fly and pushed his hand inside.
He couldn't believe how wet she was for him.
She moaned into his mouth, and went for his buckle. Soon her warm little hand was pumping his rigid cock.
"Naughty," he whispered. "Gonna make me come like that."
He moved her hand and tried his best to maneuver into her.
"Not the best place," she managed.
Spike remembered where he was.
"Right." He picked her up, took a few steps and sat her on the trunk end of the nearest car.
"I was thinking hotel..."
Spike shook his head. "Can't wait."
Seeing that her jeans would prevent the face-to-face position, Spike spun her around and pulled her ass toward him.
After a lusty caress, he yanked her jeans and panties down, took hold of his cock, and brushed the tip against her slick opening.
She pushed back, and was filled completely.
Spike fell forward onto her back, elated, amazed. The real Buffy. The one he truly wanted. At last.
Buffy shut her eyes, held onto the car's tailfins and stopped thinking about how very wrong this all was. It was that possessive hand on her hip, the one giving her chills, that made her forget.
Her shirt rode up as his free hand roamed beneath it. Buffy moaned and shivered. She marveled that everything he was doing was exactly what turned her on the most. Could he read what she liked, or were they just made for each other? And did she just think that?
Spike grunted and growled in her ear.
The vampire and the slayer undulated in rhythm, gaining pace and friction, groaning each time their bodies smacked together.
It was too much, too hot, too good for him to stand.
"Buffy," he cried, and came into her.
With that last claiming thrust, something sharp cut into her areola. She hissed in pain.
After he'd shuddered for the last time, she pushed him out and turned, sitting on the trunk.
"But love, what about..." he saw what she was tending to, "you."
She inspected the little slice on her breast. When she touched it, fresh blood surfaced.
"It's just a scratch. I'll be okay."
Spike shook away his emerging demon. Down boy, he told himself. Fuck now, eat later.
A few strands of blonde hair fell sensually over Buffy's face. "I'm not done with you yet," she said, and drew his mouth to hers.
"Hope not," he said, and climbed up the car.
Buffy took his hand and guided it into her soft folds. He slid one finger in, then two, and gently rubbed her clit with his thumb.
She clamped her legs shut around his arm and sighed.
"So wet," he said between kisses. "So bloody perfect."
He kissed down her neck, to one nipple, to the... other...
A searing metallic flavor hit his tongue.
He licked it again. And again. As his hands continued to pump inside her, as she bucked and wriggled and moaned at his touch, he began to suck.
Her fingers curled around the nape of his neck.
"Spike," she said hoarsely.
He hoped she wouldn't tell him to stop... because he couldn't.
She didn't. On the contrary, she pushed his head down, signaling to suck harder. Then he felt her muscles tighten around his fingers as she cried out into the quiet night.
Buffy whimpered as she recovered for a moment. Then she looked down at him, still sucking hungrily at her breast.
"Hey. Spike." He didn't respond, so she said, "Ow."
Suddenly, he shouted in pain and jumped off of her, holding his head.
"Hey! S'not funny!"
"C'mon, Chip Boy. Let's get out of here."
Buffy stood up and rearranged her clothes, then realized upon whose car she had just fucked and fed her mortal enemy.
"Oh my God!" she yelped, jumping as far away from Angel's Plymouth as she could.
"Spike! You couldn't have picked another car?"