Author: Bitten And Staked

Title: Birthday Suit - Chapter One - Invitation.

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Summary: Spike is drunk and happily lamenting his life while waiting for Buffy to show up with his blood. When she does arrive he somehow gets invited to her birthday bash.

Timeline: Season 4. It's Buffy's 19th birthday and the party's at her house [while the cats away little Buffy will play] and even Spike's invited. Two bottles of whisky and some sexy party games later and Buffy has a different view on Spike.

Series: Part 1 of 7

Pairing: Buffy and Spike. Spikes POV.

Rating: PG13

Disclaimer: everyone else owns Buffy and all associated with her.

Feedback: always welcome so email me - webmaster@talesoftheslayer.com

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Who am I these days? They called me the scourge of Europe, slayer of Slayers, William the bloody. I have to laugh at that one, yeah, William the bloody drunk and William the bloody puppy. I've let my thoughts run along these lines a lot recently. Coming to rely on the Slayer to bring me blood, to stop me from turning into nothing more than walking skin and bones. She seems to be nice enough, she buys you blood and she doesn't have to. Hey, back off dumb William. That's right, bitch of the Slayer you lament your current situation but deep down inside something likes it, something needs her asking for your help, relying on your strength, giving you power again. Shut up.

I take another long draw on my friend the bottle and take a look around my crypt. It's better than the whelps basement, with it's leaks and oh, of course, Harris. The crypt is nice enough, it's not like I need modern comforts being the undead has that advantage. I've managed to steal a telly and I'm siphoning power off some house up the road. Maybe one day the Slayer will stop over after bringing you blood and watch the telly with you, that what you want? I'm definitely ignoring that one. It's bloody damp sometimes but it's only what I deserve for letting the government shove this damn chip up my brain, this beautifully crafted piece of behavioural modification software that stops me from hurting people. Puppy dog Spike, good boy!

And why the buggery am I still here in Sunnyhell? I realise I'm drunk to the point that I'm starting to miss the mother country. Being able to stroll through green hills and fields of blood red poppies. I actually miss having weather, waking up to an autumn morning with dew on the grass and a scattering of burnt orange leaves. All there is here is wall-to-wall sunshine, not good for those of us who are sunlight challenged.

Yet here I sit. Nicely settling into a lovely crypt with a view. My stomach growls and it pains me, so I feed it the last of my whisky. Sometimes the pain, hunger and despair that I think I feel cut's through all the booze. Foolish Spike, the undead don't have feelings or so they keep telling me.

It growls again but the bottle is empty so I pat it with my hand.

"She'll be here soon mate, she's never late." Reliable Buffy, I mean Slayer. No names because that means you actually care that she has one.

I can't say how long I've been staring at the floor when she approaches my crypt, but I feel her outside. I'm so hungry I can sense her blood calling to me for at least a couple of minutes before she pushes the door of my crypt open and walks in.

I subconsciously tilt my head to one side and narrow my eyes when I look at her. Bottle blonde hair tied up and exposing the soft flesh of her neck to me in a way I know means 'you don't scare me'. If I don't scare her then why is she always on edge around me, I can see emotions playing across her face, she forgets that we can sense such things in humans. It isn't usually this intense though I have to admit. It's just because she's the Slayer, steady on mate.

It's the same every day, night falls outside and she arrives, carrying a stake in one hand and a bag of blood in the other. It's another sign of defiance that she comes to me at night, I like to think it's because her friends don't know she's been feeding me. She always looks guilty and I've watched her around her friends a lot, I know that guilty look.

I'm so hungry I even contemplate what it would be like if I bit into her soft flesh, would my head explode? I think it would have a dusty ending but I have a theory that if I can get her relaxed enough for me to nip at her neck then return to human mode to drink maybe she would enjoy it and this damn chip wouldn't trigger. She's moved closer during my little reverie and now my whole head is full of her blood singing to me. She would like it if she tried it.

Shaking my head I realise that I've thought about this far too much so I move my gaze from her neck to rest on her face. I have to confess that she's cute when she looks confused.

"Come for me Slayer?" I lower my voice to a purr just to get a reaction. She colours slightly and averts her eyes for only a second but it's enough for me.

"You wish." She replies coolly but for a second there I know I had the power and it felt good.

To prove that she has the power over me she moves closer still. Hips switching side-to-side she stops only a foot away and smiles, she doesn't usually put herself within arms reach.

I sniff and clench my jaw tight, steeling myself where I sit at the edge of the sarcophagus; ready for anything she has to throw at me.

"Are you drunk?" Her face shows a hint of concern. Ready for anything but that.

My thoughts spin out of control and I find myself imagining dropping the empty bottle in my hand to the floor and wrapping my hands about her face as I pull her to me for a long hard kiss. Making her moan into my mouth. Coming back to reality I only have the nerve to drop the bottle.

"So." Is all I can muster in a pathetic 'don't care what you think' tone of voice that seems to make her start. Then it hits me that little miss perfect has never been truly drunk. There's something I'd love to change, maybe even get her relaxed enough for some necking.

"Why?" Her look is questioning, eyes searching mine for an answer that I'm not willing to give and yet under that look I find myself giving.

"You don't know how I feel, you can't understand me, never, no matter how much you tried. They took away the strongest part of me and left a hollow shell. I'm nothing more than a corpse now, useless. Just stake me and stop this hell. "

My tone sharpens into italics, every word hitting home in her. Reminding her that she doesn't have the right to be concerned with me, sometimes I really do wish she would stake me and get it over with. I grab her hand with the stake in it and press it to my breastbone. She's frowning at me now with a look of hurt on her face and struggling to get her hand back, so I release it. As she rubs her wrist I think she's going to leave but instead she sits beside me on the sarcophagus.

"Spike?" Her tones are gentle like honey in my ear, the sweetest poison.

"What?"

"I'm sorry they did this to you but you can't let them win. You can still be the killer you always were, just not people that's all." She tilts her head slightly as she turns her head to look at me, her soft waves of golden hair almost touching her knees.

I admit her words comfort me but I still can't stop staring at the empty bottle on the floor and feeling pensive.

I can feel something warm on my hand and I look down to see her small fingers resting there like it was the most natural thing in the world. When she takes them away again I find myself swearing off blood, killing and booze if she would only do it again. She gives me an awkward glance clearly recognizing what she just did.

"My birthdays tomorrow."

"That's nice pet." I try not to sound sarcastic but I can't help myself.

"Will you come along?" Her voice shakes as she asks me, I'm astounded that she's asking me to come to her party - maybe she needs a reminder that I don't belong there.

"Captain Cardboard be there?" I raise my scarred brow at her and give her a wicked little smile.

"No, just Willow and Xander and some friends. If you come around ten then most of the people you don't know would be gone." I take it as a hint that she would prefer me not to meet these people I don't know.

I puff my chest up at the thought that Riley was dumb enough to leave her alone on her birthday, I know she didn't send him away for me but I'm grateful he won't be there. Nasty little thoughts pop into my head whenever he's nearby.

"Alright birthday girl you got yourself a deal," I surrender on the grounds that it's a grand opportunity to get her drunk and cause a little mischief.

She hops to the floor and smiles up at me triumphantly, my eyes hurt from the brightness of it. Before she leaves she rummages about in her bag and produces a ballpoint pen, then grabs my hand and pulls it to her. Flipping it over so my palms facing up she scribbles something on it, my hand is burning under her touch and I run my thumb along her fingernails.

"So you don't forget." With another flash of a smile she's gone.

I stare at my hand, etched on my palm is 'Buffy birthday (bring present)' encompassed in a big heart.