Spike glared at the odd golden ropes tied around his body. Some shibari master had used enchanted bloody ropes on him. He squirmed and shifted to no avail. Angel was going to give him hell when the ponce found out about it. Hell, the bastard might be behind it. Spike growled.
"The sleeper awakens." An amused and vaguely familiar voice filled the air. "Just relax. We'll be there in no time."
"Listen, I'm not the guy you want." Spike spoke to the voice trying to flip over and see his kidnapper.
"I'm pretty sure you are. Been looking for you for more than a decade." A dry chuckle sounded through the small space. "After all you don't change very much."
"I don't bloody care how long you bloody hunted me. I am not someone you want for an enemy." Spike growled. "And my sire won't stand for this. Just turn the bloody boat around and take me back where you found me."
"Well, Angel might be a problem, but I think he'll see the error of his ways if he kicks up a fuss." This time the man hummed a few notes of some melody. "I am delivering you, William the Bloody belated birthday present, so just relax and enjoy the ride."
"I'm a birthday present?" Spike asked.
"Yep, a belated one."
"I am a master vampire of the Aurelian line. I am not a birthday present." Spike snarled.
"You are my gift, all tied up with a pretty golden bow." The kidnapper sighed. "It would have been so much easier to get her a new jacket or a sword, but I promised to get her what she really wanted."
"So I'm trussed up for some bird?" Spike rolled his eyes. "Has Dru finally lost her last barmy bit of sense?"
"Faith drove Drusilla into hiding several years ago. Let's not play guessing games. I'm guessing there are a great deal of women that might want to get their hands on you for one reason or another." The wry humor evident in his captor's voice annoyed Spike.
"You know Faith?" Spike took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and forced the pain deep.
"I know her. I'm not her favorite guy, but I go to her kid's birthday parties and drink her husband's beer."
"She's gone domestic?" Spike tried to roll over.
"She's fierce and dangerous, but Robin and little Lizzy keep her human enough. She isn't my responsibility. Thank the Powers that be." Spike heard his captor stride across the deck. A hand grabbed the ropes binding him and turned him over. The small red haired man crouched next to him smiled. "Do you really want to talk about Faith?"
"Well, if it isn't the dog faced boy." Spike smirked.
"Mind the insults. This is my boat and you could be thrown overboard and dragged along behind if you piss me off enough." Oz shrugged. "I'm just saying."
"Tell me you aren't turning me over to Red." Spike shivered. The witch was a real threat. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through the pain as he thought of what the witch had cost him. He'd been in a hell dimension when Buffy had died, trying to stop her one time friend's most recent mad power grab.
"Not even if you'd sucked my family dry back in the day. Willow's too unpredictable." Oz looked out to sea.
"Were you there?" Spike knew the wolf would know what he meant.
"No, Dawn, Giles, and Xander were there. They won't talk about it, and I won't ask."
"Buffy saved the slayer legacy." Spike felt shiver run over his body.
"The price was too steep." Oz sighed.
"Third time was the charm." Spike shuddered. "I shoulda been there to guard her back."
"Wouldn't have made a difference." Oz shook his head. "She did what she had to do."
Oz took a deep breath and studied the backs of his fingers.
"We're gonna be there soon. Do you want a bag of blood?"
"Hard to drink it with my hands tied." Spike shifted. "You could release me or loosen these blasted ropes."
Oz sook his head and grabbed a bag from the cooler. It was donated human blood. He grabbed a small straw and shoved it into the bag and propped it so Spike could suck it down.
The plastic had infused the blood with a strange taste. Spike took a long pull on the straw and felt the world start to fall away. The wolfy bastard had drugged him again.
The world returned to Spike in hazy flashes of familiar scents and sounds. His head ached. A cool breeze blew across him as he was settled onto a couch of some kind. He didn't bother to open his eyes.
"Happy belated birthday." Oz said. "Told you I'd get you what you really wanted. I'm taking everybody over to the mainland for a few days."
"What? How?" Spike's eyes flew open and he found her standing just inside the door. Her golden blonde hair was longer than he'd ever seen it, sliding along her body in loose waves. She hadn't aged a day in the more than fifteen years they'd been apart.
"He's been fighting the good fight with Angel and some other freaky characters." Oz touched her shoulder. "He wasn't hiding from you or pretending to be dead. He was in a hell dimension. He thought you were dead."
"Why is he tied up?" Buffy moved toward Spike.
"I couldn't tell him where we were going or why, so I drugged him and tied him up. It was expedient." Oz grinned and tossed her a small dagger. "You'll need this to unwrap your present. See you in a week."
Buffy waved, but her eyes never left Spike's. He could feel power arching like a Tesla coil all around him. He took a deep breath.
"He said he was giving you what you really wanted for your birthday." Spike tilted his head as far as the ropes allowed.
"Oz is really good with the presents." Buffy stroked her index finger along his cheek. "I still can't wrap my head around this. I thought you were dust."
"Everyone thinks Red killed you." Spike swallowed as she started removing the ropes. "I thought you were dead. Oh,god, I thought you were dead."
"These things get exaggerated." Buffy yanked the cord from his body and twined herself along his chest. "I thought you were gone."
Her tiny hands slid along his body, pushing his shirt off. Her mouth followed her hands with gentle open mouthed kisses that burned him just right. He groaned.
"You're alive, and I am never letting you go again." Buffy breathed against his neck. The warm welcome of her arousal filled the air around them. "You are mine."
Buffy bit down deep into the flesh of his shoulder. Her hands clutched him, prepared to fight if necessary. He arched under her, drawing out the moment as realization dawned. Buffy was living, breathing, and claiming him. He shuddered, and she hummed into the bite setting of fireworks inside his skin.
"Yours." He gasped as invisible threads far stronger than any damn enchanted rope tied him to her, soul to soul. Her hands were skimming along his torso, tracing his cool skin, adding to the fire building in his gut.
The hot flash of her breath against his skin as she released her hold zinged through him blowing away every concern. It wasn't much of a change. He had always belonged to her in one form or another. She laved at his broken skin with her tongue, caressing the wound and consuming him. He whimpered and writhed under her.
She pulled her hands from his skin, sat up straddling his jean clad thighs, and ripped her own shirt off over her head. His eyes fastened on her mouth, on the smear of his borrowed blood riding her lips. He loved her, had never stopped, would never stop. He was her willing slave quite literally. He could feel the power of her claim pulsing within him stronger than the distant memory of his heartbeat. Buffy Summers owned him.
Her hands yanked him up against her. Her fierce, kittenish purr filled the air blocking out the sounds of the cold waves crashing on the not too distant shore. She flicked her hair over her shoulder and bared her throbbing pulse to him.
"Do it, Spike. Make me yours." Buffy slid her hands around to his back and pulled him tight smashing her breasts against him and closing the distance between them.
"You are mine." His demon surged to the surface and he licked her neck, enjoying the desperation made so evident by her fingers digging into his flesh. He let his tongue rest on her throbbing pulse and purred. His Buffy was offering herself up to him, making him whole, finally. He sank his fangs into her flesh slowly, millimeter by millimeter, drawing out the pain and the pleasure.
"Please, Spike." Buffy rocked her hips against him. "Please."
He liked her begging. It was sweet, but he wanted her satisfied, wanted her purring as he poured all his love and affection into her. He bit down and took a long draught of her blood into his mouth. Pure ambrosia on his tongue. He swallowed and felt the new bindings form. Buffy was his as he was hers. They had forever. He released her shoulder and let her blood dribble down her shoulder toward her breast. He watched the crimson trail lengthen before pressing the flat of his tongue to the swell of her breast and dragging it up, rasping against her skin as he absorbed her life.
Buffy shoved at his jeans, tearing them. He tossed his head back and let loose an exultant cry. She shivered and stopped, her eyes wide.
"I'm gonna make you scream, Buffy." Spike licked his lips and pushed her back against the couch. She stroked her hand along his abdomen tracing the defined muscles lightly.
"Just make me yours." Buffy sighed. "It's all I want."
His jeans were a pool of denim on the floor in the next moment. Every breath came just tick faster as he slid her last bits of clothing off and tossed them over this shoulder. There were new scars riding her skin from battles to which he had not been privy. He kissed his lips to each faint line, swirled his tongue over every raised pucker.
"You'll be with me when it's time to fight again." Buffy buried the fingers of one hand in his hair and turned her other palm toward him revealing the scar. "This was all I had of you."
"Well, now, you have all of me, Buffy." Spike dropped down and covered her body with his own. His lips claimed hers gently, coaxing her to open for him. l'll be your fierce warrior, your steadfast friend, your tender lover. You let me know what you want and I will be that."
"I just want you Spike." She opened her legs in invitation. "Come home to me."
Spike fought against the sudden thickness in his throat and settled between her legs. He kissed her gently, smiling at her impatient groans. Her hands stroked his back. He arched up and looked down into her luminous green gaze.
"I love you, Buffy." His voice broke on her name as he sheathed himself in her body. A sense of peace enveloped them both. "I always will."
They moved together, a slide of sweat slicked skin. Buffy groaned, and Spike ground his teeth fighting to stay in control. She stroked his shoulder and nuzzled into his neck.
"Let go, Spike. Quit worrying and enjoy." She stroked the side of his face. "You're here and that's all I need."
Spike kissed her and lost himself in the warmth of her body. His tongue was everywhere, sliding on her skin and freeing her of every inhibition. He sank deep into her and relished hearing her satisfaction.
"This would be better on a bed." Spike laughed as the couch moved beneath him.
"We have one, and I'll get you there later." Buffy grabbed his head and pulled him back to her.
Her lips slammed to his, and he was lost in the vortex of want and need. Words became murmurs and groans. They thrust and clawed together fighting towards completion. Buffy flexed beneath him and arched back screaming as she pushed past the summit into the ether. Spike followed her with a roar of his own. The couch collapsed beneath them, broken beyond repair.
"You are the best birthday gift ever, Spike. God, he always knows." Buffy laughed as she looked up at Spike from the wreckage. "It must be some sort of wolfy intuition. He always gets me exactly what I need."
Buffy kissed Spike and laughed, freely, for the first time in years. Spike smiled and plucked them both from the remnants of the couch. Oz could see to her material needs as long as Spike was the only one seeing to everything else.
"Which way to that bed?"
"Pull those catalogues out from my desk." Oz smiled at Dawn as Giles took his turn maneuvering the boat toward shore. "We're gonna need to buy a few things before we go back."