AN: I own none of Mr. Whedon's wonderful creations, and this is purely for my own amusement and hopefully yours as well.
Not completely faithful to canon, somewhere very early Season 6.
"She's been spending far too much time with Spike, if you ask me." Buffy froze outside the kitchen when she heard Giles' voice from within.
"He's just like a…a security blanket," Willow stammered in response.
"She needs to feel young," Rupert exclaimed, "Hanging about the undead is not going to ease the death she feels still inside her."
"Spike's always struck me as a youthful vamp, aside from his undying devotion to the 80s," Xander joked.
"This isn't funny, Xander," Giles snapped. "I'm worried about her. Take her out to the Bronze tonight, let her see some familiar faces, and bring her home at a reasonable hour."
Buffy waited until the conversation shifted topic a bit before stepping into the kitchen, her arms crossed over her chest protectively.
"Buffy," Willow blurted anxiously, "We were just talking…"
"We're taking you to the Bronze to see some familiar faces, and then going to bring you home at a reasonable hour," Anya announced.
"Anya," Xander whispered admonishingly.
"Wow, you guys really know how to party," Buffy commented drily, "Well, I'm ready, let's go."
"Don't you maybe want to change first?" Willow asked awkwardly, eyeing Buffy's baggy black sweatpants and white wife beater. At least she was wearing a bra which was more than could be said for most days since her resurrection.
Buffy raised an eyebrow at her.
"Or, not, you-you look sexy in an…understated way," Willow stuttered.
"A very understated way," Anya muttered.
"Anya," Xander whispered louder this time.
"I'll just go change," Buffy whispered.
A half hour later they were all seated at a small table near the bar at the Bronze, joined by Tara, whose arm was happily looped through Willow's. Buffy had managed a pair of jeans and one of the skimpy tank tops she had worn in better days. In addition to the alienation she had felt since returning, she had also been highly annoyed with her friends of late. The two couples had decided to have some sort of stand-off to see who could go without sex the longest. Buffy had staked her money on the lesbian pair winning, no messing with witches after all, but she had forgotten that Anya, being hundreds of years old, had experienced dry spells decades long.
The last two weeks had been full of very audible whispers like "I wish we could go upstairs and make Miss Kitty Fantastico purr," from Willow. Those kinds of comments made Anya roll her eyes and Buffy blush, and Dawn glance from person to person curiously. Anya played like a champ, not so much as allowing Xander to touch her for fear of giving in to temptation. She would, however, every so often look at Xander and declare something along the lines of, "I very much want your penis inside me right now." This was much worse than Willow's fervent innuendos since there could be no mistaking their meaning and caused Buffy much embarrassment on Dawn's behalf.
Despite Buffy's irritation, the smoldering glances between the pairs and hushed words had caused a twinge inside her of acute loneliness at first. She found herself crying at night imagining having a partner to enjoy the ridiculous game with. She thought this must be a good sign, since she hadn't really imagined anything besides Heaven since returning to Earth. And then as the first week turned into a second the twinge inside her grew stronger and became a familiar deep down ache.
Tonight as they all sat at the table it was clear the game had been good for the couples. Willow was tracing light circles on Tara's hand, and Anya, always direct, was whispering in Xander's ear and he giggled like a schoolboy every few seconds. Buffy was scanning the crowd idly, for no one in particular she told herself. She wasn't looking for anyone. Certainly not looking for him.
And yet when his peroxided head appeared in the doorway her heart leapt and she almost smiled. Tara noticed, Tara noticed everything.
"Hey, Buffy, can you go get me a drink," she asked softly, winking at Buffy. Buffy blushed, nodded, and stood. Willow didn't notice, completely absorbed in her girlfriend's beauty.
Buffy made her way over to Spike as casually as possible.
"Ah, good, you're wearing pants again," he smirked.
"Umm, yeah, Giles ordered them to take me out."
"Did he now? I see your friends have had their bit of fun," Spike nodded in the direction of the amorous couples. Buffy wondered how long it would be before Anya dragged Xander back to their apartment and left Willow and Tara in charge of Buffy Watch.
"Yeah, their bit of fun hasn't been the most fun for the rest of us," Buffy said wryly, rolling her eyes. Spike studied her. She had the faintest trace of color in her cheeks. He wondered if she would get the same kind of flush on her chest when she came. She blushed under his scrutiny and turned away, brushing a piece of hair out of her face.
"Well, I should…" her voice trailed off as she contemplated returning to the table of lovers.
"Yeah, I gotta find myself a meal anyway," Spike shrugged.
"You what?!" She turned abruptly.
"Oh yeah! Forgot to tell you. Turns out, if the lady's willing, chip doesn't go off."
Buffy's eyes went wide. But from the deep crimson of her cheeks Spike could tell it wasn't from the idea of him hunting again, but from the words 'if the lady's willing'.
"You're a pig, Spike," she managed, a beat too late.
"Oh really? I seem to remember you letting Angel bite you. Don't tell me you didn't get off on that."
"I…that was…"
"See? I rest my case," and with that he sauntered off into the crowd.
Buffy turned back to her friends' table, only to find Anya and Xander gone, and Willow and Tara still giggling together over their drinks. It was good to see them happy. She knew they had been fighting lately. Her heart was thumping wildly in her chest. She had this urge to find Spike on the dance floor, pull him to her, and see if he could make Miss Kitty Fantastico purr, so to speak. She blamed her friends' ridiculous game but she simply couldn't stand the idea of him biting and fucking some willing lady tonight and that lady not being her. With another glance to see that Tara and Willow were still deeply engrossed, she strode onto the dance floor. It didn't take long to locate Spike dancing with a brunette wisp of a thing who couldn't have been older than seventeen. Buffy tried to look more intimidating than she felt and tapped the girl on the shoulder. The girl whirled to face her. "You mind," Buffy bit out, in her best imitation of Faith. The girl backed off immediately and Buffy smiled to herself. 'Still got it,' she thought.
When she looked up into Spike's face she saw he was furious, "Look, slayer, you can't interrupt every meal of mine for the rest of your life."
She laughed, and to Spike's shock, she stepped into him and placed her hands on his chest. She could feel the coolness of his skin through his shirt and she almost purred with excitement.
"Uh, what are you doing, pet?" He asked suspiciously.
"Didn't you once ask me to dance?" She whispered in his ear, standing on tiptoe. If his heart was still beating it would have stopped at those words. The context had been entirely different at the time, but still, her intentions were clear.
He pulled her hips against his, grinding against her to the beat. He wasn't sure it could be called dancing but this new millennium was a confusing time for music anyway. She leaned her head against his chest, and he bent his to smell her hair. As ever, she smelled like sunlight. This was dangerous for him, he knew. He loved her and she was still dead inside. But he would sure as Hell give it a shot. It wasn't long before he had taken her hand and led her to a supply closet he frequently used for his willing victims. He closed the door behind them and pinned her up against it, finally leaning down to kiss her. She was aggressive, all tongue and teeth, just the way Spike liked. He wondered briefly if she was one of those women who changed her style to fit each man she was with but he shoved the thought away impatiently.
She broke away momentarily to impatiently kick off her heels and strip off her jeans and panties. She made a mental note to wear a skirt next time she went out and then shoved that horrifying thought away impatiently.
Moments later he was inside and her brain squealed, "SEX AGAINST A WALL" with glee. Oh, and it was such a good fit. She reveled in that delicious push-pull as he thrust and gripped his shoulders tightly, digging her fingernails in. 'Ah, he likes that', she thought as the action caused him to thrust harder. As she could feel herself getting close she turned her head to the side, and swept her hair out of the way.
"Bite," she ordered. He didn't hesitate. That had not been an invitation. That had been a command. As his teeth sank into her she climaxed violently in response to the pain, clutching his head to her neck. After a few pulls of her blood he came as well.
"Buffy," he murmured, kissing her neck, and setting her back on her feet.
"I'm fine," she whispered in answer to his unspoken question.
'I love you', his lips ghosted against her skin. She ran her fingers through his hair a few times before pulling away and unceremoniously yanking her panties and jeans back on.
"Gosh, I hope Willow and Tara didn't…" Buffy said to fill the silence.
"Buffy," he started, reaching for her, but she brushed him away vaguely with a garbled excuse about her friends, and then she was gone.
On the other side of the door she grinned. Fuck, that had been good.