A/N: Hello readers :-)

This story was for me the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.

First I wanted to fill the fade-out in 'Chosen'. This being the last night between Buffy and Spike (I'm not counting the comics here) I thought Joss Whedon was wise to leave it to the spectator's imagination (even if it's a bit frustrating, I'll admit). Here is my version of how things could have gone down.

Second, this was for me the occasion to go over all my favorite Spuffy moments. I hope you won't find it boring since there will be a lot of canon things here, but I really enjoyed writing down these parts and hopefully you'll like reading them.

A couple of remarks:
- I took the story's title idea from the lyrics of 'Flames' by VAST.
- Again I'll say that English isn't my first language and I don't have a beta so I'm sorry if there are some linguistic horrors somewhere here, I'm trying my best i assure you :-) Another problem is that I've already written fanfictions in Bristh english and here I'm going a bit more American when we're in Buffy's thoughts, so I hope I haven't mixed the two styles too awkwardly.
- This is an M-rated Spuffy story so I hope you know what to expect ;-) There's going to be some hot stuff so beware!

Disclaimer: all characters belong to Joss Whedon (and everybody who helped create the show I guess), and there are a lot of quotes from both scripts and transcripts taken from basically all seasons except the first one.

And now I'm letting you read ^^ I hope you'll like it.

Chapter title: Calm the Storm - Graffiti6.

Let Me Give You What You're Giving Me

Set in the middle of 'Chosen', during the last night in Sunnydale.

From where she was standing on the front porch of her house, Buffy watched as the wind blew a lone sheet of paper down Revello Drive. The white leaf slowly swirled in the air, brushing against the asphalt and then taking off again, caught up in a ghostlike dance in the moonlight, as if it had a life of its own.

She kept her eyes fixed on it, fascinated by the movement, for it was the closest manifestation of life she'd seen since she'd started gazing down her street. But soon it sailed too far away, and even her Slayer eyesight couldn't keep track of it as it disappeared into the darkness. And then all was utterly still again. Nothing but empty houses, empty cars, left behind in this abandoned town.

Her abandoned town, she mused, tightening her crossed arms over her chest as the thought left a bitter aftertaste in her mind. What with the recent lack of faith that had come over her 'followers'... When they had asked her to leave, cast her out of her own home, declaring as one voice that she wasn't fit to lead them anymore. Willow, Xander, Dawn, Giles... Even if they had taken her in again, the wound was still fresh and sore.

Well, at least Sunnydale's crickets didn't desert. Yet. She sighed and rested her head back against the column against which she'd been leaning, the steady song of the nocturnal insects her sole companion.

"...Used to be a highly respected Watcher. Now I'm a wounded dwarf with the mystical strength of a doily..."

Her enhanced hearing had picked up her friends' conversation from the beginning but she hadn't paid that much attention to it, until this particular sentence put a small smile on her face in spite of everything. Who wouldn't have smiled? Picturing a dwarfed Rupert Giles wielding some magical axe...

"I just wish I could sleep..."

"What kind of person could sleep on a night like this?"

"Only the crazy ones."

Buffy's smile slowly faded. Right in that instant, she wished she were crazy. Oh what sweet solace sleep could have provided. A break from the perpetual whirlpool of thoughts in her head. A break from the fear, the anguish, the guilt, all the emotions she kept bottled up inside, not letting them show because she couldn't risk the Potentials seeing them. Because she was a Slayer. Because she was their leader. Because they needed to believe she was fearless.

She knew Faith was sleeping. For if her counterpart hadn't been asleep, Buffy would be hearing her own bed creaking in her bedroom. There was no way an awake Faith would spend her probably-last-night-on-Earth not having sex, even in her still recovering state.

Faith might be a Slayer, she wouldn't be the one leading them into battle when morning would come. And for that Buffy envied her. Not having to carry this burden upon her shoulders all through the night... Even if the blond had accepted her fate and her role, it didn't make things easy for all that.

Absorbed in her own thoughts, she hadn't realised the game they'd been playing in the dining-room had ended- or maybe they were just taking a break between rounds- but suddenly Giles' guitar softly sounded in the night air. Buffy's head turned toward the house, the acoustic melody beguiling and drawing her inside. She passed Xander in the lobby, gently carrying a snoring Anya into the living-room, and they exchanged a tiny smile.

In the dining-room Amanda was slumped in her chair, eyes down as if staring at her hands resting in her lap, features shadowed and worried, while a red-hooded Andrew had propped his elbows up on the table, hands wrapped around his cheeks, gazing wholeheartedly at Giles.

Buffy admired her Watcher as well, leaning against the doorframe with her arms still wrapped around herself, unwilling to join them fully. Sitting at the far end of the table, Giles was playing with passion, fingers lithely sliding along the strings, candlelight flickering yellow on his hands. Playing softly, quietly, in order not to wake up the few who had managed to find sleep. The song was melancholic, heartbreakingly beautiful, and it hit Buffy that this might be the last time she would ever hear Giles play. This might be the last acoustic guitar song every person in this house would ever hear.

Buffy's throat constricted, the emotions suddenly overwhelming and the ambiant sadness pressing down upon her unbearable. She took a step back and retreated into the living-room where Xander was still kneeling next to the couch where he'd laid Anya down. The Slayer stepped over the mattresses strewn all over the floor, more young Potentials being in Morpheus arms than she'd expected.

She eventually crouched in front of her weapons' chest and picked up the smallest knife that was in her reach before standing up again, heading out of the room and toward the only being she wanted to be with right now.

*-X-*-X-*-X-*

His back resting against the cold grey wall of the basement, Spike sat on his cot, one forearm on his knee, the amulet dangling from his fingers at the level of his eyes. He watched the silver moonlight sparkle inside the large unidentified gem, while the piece of music Giles had been playing overhead quietly ended, soon giving birth to another song. It wasn't long before Spike recognized an instrumental version of Fields of Gold, and the familiar tune wrung a sigh out of him.

Great. Very end-of-the-worldly. Way to lift the troops' moral, Rup'. But if he was being honest Spike was grateful for the music, as it covered the other sounds emanating from the rest of the house. His supernatural senses far more developed than Buffy's, he was hearing it all.

Nibblet's whispering as she recounted the tale of how her big sis' had defeated the Master; the appreciative or sometimes sceptical comments from the bunch of Slayers-to-be who were listening; Demon girl's soft snoring- this one could've easily slept through a category-5 hurricane; a Hail Mary prayer one of the Potential kept muttering under her breath, the catholic litany scraping the blond vampire's nerve endings.

The entire house reeked of sorrow, apprehension and tension. Well, except for Red and her new sweetheart's impassioned moans drifting out of the main bedroom. That was a nice change of tune. These two would have enjoyed the good stuff till the end... And the witch had one big role to play in the upcoming events, so she clearly deserved the love. He was a bit surprised Faith and her wanker of a lover- 'Got Mummy issues' school Principal- weren't going at it as well and breaking Buffy's bed. He guessed the brunette hadn't fully recovered from the explosion yet, in spite of what she tried to let everybody believe.

Spike could have easily blocked it all out. The newbies- just wriggled out the grave vamps- Buffy was used to slay didn't have enough time to learn it, but it took only a few days for a vampire to tame its highly sensitive senses, the few who didn't manage to rein it in ended up completely nuts and pretty often walking straight out into the sunlight just so the racket in their head would end.

But Spike had been trying to locate Buffy amongst this quiet din. He'd let his hearing expand, search, focuse, he'd tried to single out her heartbeat, her breathing. He'd been expecting her to join him in his bed for a tender cuddle, he'd believed they would spend this last night in each other's chaste embrace, like they had for a couple of nights already. Best night of his long undead life, he'd told her. And according to her it'd meant something on her side too. Yet she hadn't come this time. And loneliness clawed at the vampire's unbeating heart with searing talons. He missed her more than he was willing to admit.

So being able to hear her would have been a small consolation. Hear her breathing and imagine the air fanning over his skin, hear her heartbeat and imagine it pumping close to his own chest. But even that he hadn't gotten. She'd remained so quiet, resolutely mute since the rousing speech she'd given during the afternoon when she'd revived the troops' faltering courage and had explained the plan. He had no idea where she was in the house. He knew she was there, somewhere, her unique scent proving her presence, but where exactly? He didn't know and he didn't want to go after her. If she wanted some time alone to brace herself before the grand finale, so be it, he would respect her decision. As excruciating as it was.

The basement door creaked open overhead, the guitar notes suddenly a bit louder then quiet once more as the door was closed again. Spike lifted his eyes from the amulet, a wave of hope warming up his cool body, and when Buffy appeared on the stairs his heart fluttered below his skin as if it was about to beat again. He uncoiled and slowly got to his feet, his eyes never leaving her, until she'd climbed down the last step and she stood there, holding his gaze.

For a long minute they just stared at each other in silence, the moonlight pouring in through the basement hopper windows strong enough so that they could discern the other's expression clearly. Buffy had stilled her face into a neutral mask, her emotions carefully wrapped up, looking just like she had when her friends had torn her out of her peaceful afterlife and she'd tried so hard not to show them how much suffering she'd been enduring.

But she hadn't been able to hide from him then, and she couldn't do it now either. He could see her doubts and anxiety boiling in her veins, tormenting her from the inside. Spike's lips parted but no sound came out of it, his head tilted as he watched his beloved Slayer, groping for words of reassurance. He didn't need to speak though, she knew that what he'd told her at the time still stood. Now even more so.

If you're in pain, or if you need anything, or if I can do anything for you...

His keen eyes noticed how her jaw clenched, how her nostrils slightly flared, and he would've bet anything that it was Watcher's music that was getting the best of her iron self-control. She swallowed labouriously and the vampire knew he had to break the silence between them, before the silence broke her in half.

Feeling the amulet's chain in his right palm, he looked down at it for inspiration. "So... How d'you reckon the trinket will work?"

His soft, deep voice helped her tamp down the gripping distress that'd started bubbling up inside her and she exhaled, her muscles relaxing ever so slightly.

"I don't know," she answered truthfully.

He hadn't expected anything else. The Scooby gang had been doing a lot of research about the 'Holy Scythe'- Slayerlibur, Xander had called it, pretty fitting according to Spike- and they hadn't had the time to do the same with Sweetie-Bear's thingummy. It wasn't really surprising, the Scythe was supposed to be the key to everything, the amulet was just a backup. But since Spike would be the one wearing it, he would have liked to know a bit more about it. The only thing that reassured him was that his Los Angelean poof of a grandsire had been ready to wear it himself, and he didn't think Angel had a death wish currently.

Buffy wasn't thrilled about being in the dark either. She hadn't wanted Angel to sport the amulet, nevertheless she certainly didn't want to put Spike in harm's way in his place. But these were desperate times. And she hated to admit it but Giles had been right about the fact that Buffy needed to stop playing the role of a general and start being one. This was the way wars were won. Even if the thought of losing Spike was nauseating, she had to think not as Buffy Summers but as the Slayer. She had to see the big picture and focuse on her mission. And from the Slayer's point of view, all kind of help was welcomed.

The mission is what matters.

When she'd told Angel she needed him far away from Sunnydale, running a second front in case they failed to nip the First's attempt of invasion in the bud, he hadn't liked it, but he'd understood. Spike wouldn't have. Even if she'd ordered him to leave, begged, yelled, beated him to a pulp, he wouldn't have left her. Not now. She believed he would have done anything she'd asked, except for this. And so her blond vampire was the only one around here fit to wear the mysterious talisman. Only being 'with a soul but more powerful than human' in the vicinity who wasn't a Slayer. How convenient.

Very powerful and probably very dangerous. That was how Buffy's first love had described the object. Still she had handed it over to Spike. To the only person in this house who'd never doubted her. The only one who'd stood up for her when no one else had. The one who hadn't given up on her.

And in that moment when she'd put it in his hand, she'd felt like she'd just signed his death warrant somehow. No. No. Angel was ready to wear it himself. Angel knows what he's doing.

Willing her mind to stop sliding down this treacherous path of thoughts, Buffy slipped out of the khaki shirt she'd been wearing over her simple black tank top and slang it over the stairs' banister before taking a step closer to Spike. "It bestows strength to-"

"The person who wears it, yeah, yeah," he finished with a half roll of his eyes. "Heard what Big Fluffy Puppy said. Eavesdropped, remember?" he ironized, pointing at his ear with the hand that held the amulet.

He sighed loudly, a smirk playing on his lips at the look Buffy gave him when she heard Angel's newfound nickname. Unfazed, Spike came over to lay the amulet on the square wooden table in the middle of the room, and in doing so he closed half of the distance between them, leaving the rest to her.

"Has no sodding idea what he's doing, that's what is it," he grumbled, facing the table with his long pale fingers still lingering on the huge gem.

Giles was still going all 'Jimi Hendrix' overhead and this time the vampire recognized Shape of My Heart.

Sting fan pretty much? Bloody have to admit Watcher can hold his own with a guitar. Wish the übervamps' head could explode whenever they heard music like the aliens in Mars Attack... That would make things a hell of a lot easier.

Spike was gazing up at the ceiling, his thoughts running wild, until he noticed Buffy approaching from the corner of his eye. She came up behind him, snaked her arms around his waist, and leaned into him.

"I don't think any of us really knows what we're doing," she murmured, her cheek resting between his shoulder blades.

His lean body tensed up for a second since she'd caught him by surprise. Sure she'd snuggled up against him for the past couple of nights, fallen asleep in his arms, looked unblinkingly into his eyes and told him it all meant something to her. But this time she was the one holding him. Clinging to him, her warm little body pressed to his back, her heartbeat pounding against his skin as if it was his own.

Desire stirred to life in the pit of his stomach in response to her affection, and he quickly smothered it, ashamed of his body reaction. Buffy had made it clear a while ago that she didn't want that kind relations with him anymore. He was willing to give her anything she wanted, willing to be anything she wanted, but he wouldn't do it unless she asked, wouldn't initiate anything unless she specifically told him to.

Forcing himself to unwind, he covered her hands with his own and slightly turned his head to the side. "Still convinced we're gonna win, eh, pet?"

Her eyes drifted shut when she felt his back vibrate with each word and she tightened her hold, breathing in his smell deeply. Earth, pine, leather, a hint of tobacco, and just him, Spike. Who knew how many other chances she would have to be close to him like this?

Everything is more tragically beautiful because we're doomed. Because every moment might be the last.

"Yes," she replied to his surprise. "And I also know not all of us will make it through tomorrow."

Spike froze, his body's temperature dropping even lower than usual. What did she mean she knew? Like, 'I have a bad feeling about this' sort of thing, or more like Slayer visions, Holier-than-thou kind of knowledge?

He reached around until his hand closed on her upper-arm and he gently pulled her in front of him so he could look down into her green eyes. "You will," he said firmly. "You'd better."

Her thin ebony, V neckline, tank top didn't do much covering, leaving her throat, shoulders, and cleavage exposed. The moonlight brushed her delicate skin, flickered against her small dangling earrings, silvered her blond hair. She looked so beautiful and breakable, Spike felt the sudden urge to cry. He knew she was strong, the strongest woman on the planet... But why had fate chosen such an angelic creature for such a heavy burden? The Chosen One, always alone.

"I mean it," he insisted, trying to conceal the hoarsness of his voice, when she didn't answer. "'Cause mark my words Slayer, if you die tomorrow, I'll make pretty damn sure Red brings you back again. And I don't give a flying fuck where it'll pull you out from." She'd been looking down but that last sentence dragged her gaze up to his eyes and he rigidly held her stare. "If you're not happy with that, you only have yourself to blame. That's what you get for making a selfish vampire like me fall in love with you." Oh he meant it. He truly did. What was the point of saving the world if she didn't get to live in it anymore?

Jade eyes softened at this umpteenth declaration of love. Buffy's hand came up to cup his cheek and a tiny smile tugged at the corner of her lips for an instant. But it didn't last and her features clouded over with worry once again. "And if neither of us makes it?"

Optimism is in the air tonight, Spike thought, sighing. He took her hand in his and gently skimmed his lips over her knuckles. "Then, wherever you are I'll find you, wreak havoc like I know how to, and I'll make sure we're both such pains in the arse that whoever will be in charge will have no choice but to send us back where we came from," he concluded with a little shrug. "Simple."

The quiet chuckle his little rant earned him brought a warm smile to his face, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her small form when she stepped into them, silently asking for a hug. Eyes closed and cheek resting against her head he held her close, tenderly smoothing her hair, basking in her presence. His Slayer. His Buffy. The love of his undead life.

"How long has it been since you last fed?"

Spike's eyes opened again and his brows slightly drew together. That was unexpected. He had to flick through his memories a bit before answering. "Uh... Well there was the blood bag that you fed me... And er, had a teensy-tiny nip out of Faith's stallion, right after he tried to ice me that is," he quickly added, not particularly proud of himself. He didn't give a rat's arse about the School's Principal, but he did care about Buffy's opinion, and a Slayer couldn't approve feeding off humans, even when they were dickheads.

Buffy disengaged herself from his embrace. "So it's been days."

"We vamps don't need to feed as often as humans, once every couple of days is more than enough," Spike explained, looking at her curiously. She already knew that...

She turned around and started to circle the table slowly, her fingertips brushing its wooden surface as she walked. "How are you feeling?"

The way she spoke, Spike understood it was the Slayer talking. The general's assessing her troops.

"I'm alright," he cautiously answered.

She'd reached the other end of the table and a sigh escaped her. She was looking down at her hand on the table and slightly shook her head. "I need you to be better than alright."

Spike straightened up, feeling a bit ill at ease, and tucked his thumbs into the belt loops of his pants. "Well, with the power out the bags that were in the fridge ran stale. Guess it's the same in the whole town, there's not much we can do about it. But Buffy, truly, I'm fi-"

"You need fresh blood."

Spike fell silent, frowning as he observed her, trying to suss her out. "Are you... Are you suggesting that there's someone up there offering?" he queried doubtfully. She just gazed at him and didn't deny it. "Buffy, whoever I drink from will be weakened. I mean, if there was someone who'd planned on staying behind then alright. But from what I understood even Harris and Nibblet are coming..."

"You need more than common human blood."

He marked a pause, eyes widening in disbelief. "What?"

The Slayer stood her ground, holding her chin high, determination flaring in her eyes. And Spike couldn't pretend he didn't see where she was going with this any longer.

"No." His voice was low, dark, and predatory in spite of his refusal. He took a step back from the table. "No way, not in a million years."

"Spike-"

"Forget it!" he exclaimed, tone getting louder. "Not gonna happen, so forget it," he repeated, this time pointing a menacing finger at her.

Had she lost her mind?! The vampire started pacing agitatedly around the room, his insides twisting with fear for his Slayer but also, and he couldn't help it, with a certain amount of excitement about what she was proposing. He'd dreamed about it, often, but he would never ever have thought possible that one day she would offer it to him. The demon within him unfurled, stretched awake, leering at Buffy with new interest. Sssslayer blood... William felt it in his bones, this instant raw craving for her sweet red wine, and it scared the living hell out of him.

Buffy carefully advanced toward him, slowly, trying not to scare away this wild creature standing before her. "Spike," she reached out to him, her voice gentle and soothing, "You're the strongest warrior we have, I'm counting on you. I need you to be at your maximum potential, not just 'alright'." He was backing away, shaking his head, the heel of his hand pressed tightly against his temple as if he was fighting off the First's influence again, or as if he still had his chip implanted. "I believe only Slayer blood will do the trick," she kept going.

"Then I'll take a sip out of Faith," he declared after a few seconds, trying to sound categorical and staring at her defiantly.

That stopped her momentum. She stood frozen, the icy hand of jealousy suddenly squeezing her heart until it burned. Her gaze dropped to the floor, self-confidence dissolving as the scene she'd walked in on a couple of days earlier popped up in her mind. A shirtless Spike and a flirting Faith smoking together on his cot, intimate, the dark-haired Slayer clearly in femme fatale mode.

The pain etched on her face was so plain to see that he quickly caught on what she was thinking, and couldn't hold back his grunt of frustration. "Buffy! I've told you again and again: you're the only one! More than that, you're the One. What will it take for you to believe me?!"

Seriously, how could she assume he'd want Faith over her? He'd almost bashed the girl's face in when he'd learned she'd tried to steal Buffy's leadership! Couldn't she understand that if she asked him to let his demon loose he'd rather risk Faith's life instead of hers?

"Then why?" Buffy muttered, hurt still laced in her voice.

Spike raked both his hands through his platinum hair and sucked in a long, deep breath of air. "Faith hasn't recovered completely yet," he tried to infuse his voice with a steady, reasonable tone, all the while keeping the Craving at bay. "There's a chance she still won't be combat-ready when she wakes up. In that case I'll drink from her, and she'll go back to Angel and join the Los Angelean ranks to fight on the second front, like you said."

She pondered it for a second, the Slayer taking over jealous Buffy and analyzing his proposition earnestly, and for a moment he dared to hope he'd managed to convince her. Hope that was dashed when she locked her eyes on his again.

"No," she said, resolute once again. "Faith will stay here. We need her here. You, Spike, came to me when I was alone and you helped me believe in myself again. Now it's my turn to give you strength, let me return the favor."

She took a step forward and his hands flashed up, stopping her. "Not at the expense of your own strength. Slayer haven't you heard a word I said? It'll weakened you. You won't be able to fight if you have a headrush everytime you turn around!" Damn it, this Slayer of his could be so thickheaded sometimes!

"Not if you only take a small amount," she argued. "Slayers heal faster than you think, Spike."

Fed up with this verbal sparring, the low rumble that came up from the back of his throat matched the feral expression that took over his moonlit face. "Enough," he said quietly, his voice somehow far scarier than if he'd shouted the word. "I haven't gone to the other side of the globe to fetch my soul so that I could come back here and..." He swallowed, eyes closing for an instant. "Buffy, I won't bite you."

She slowly exhaled, intimidated despite herself. It was hard to tell who was the most stubborn of the two, but in all events Buffy had made up her mind.

"You won't need to." And as she stated this she reached out behind her, her fingers wrapping around the knife that she'd tucked in the waistband of her pants.

The small blade gleamed in the moonlight and if Spike had still been alive, his heart would have missed a beat. So she had planned this from the very beginning. She'd come down here not to be with him, not as Buffy, but as the Slayer, come to feed her most precious asset up to its full strength.

"Buffy," her name slipped from his lips in an anguished breath. "Don't do it."

Unperturbed, she placed the knife against the side of her neck. Against the left side of her neck, that was still untouched, not marred by the scars the Master, Angel, and Dracula had left on her. Yet before the cold metal could pierce the skin Spike suddenly stood before her, his fingers clasped around her wrist. Her lips parted, her heart picking up speed at having him so near so abruptly. There was just something about the agile way he moved, something about his feline eyes and the fierce look in them, something about his damn cheekbones that made sensations ripple through her skin, turning her insides to mush...

Their closeness in this tense atmosphere affected him too. "Love..." he muttered, his cool breath caressing her lips. "This is your blood we're talking about. I might not be able to stop."

She blinked, breathing hard with the knife remaining held up to her neck. "You've tasted Slayer blood before."

Yeah, and I got high on it for the better part of the night. Bloodlust and sexual desire get along only too well. I used to crave Dru's blood when I was still in love with her, and the demon in me always had a thing for Slayers... Now, I love you, and you're a Slayer. Mix the two together and you get a dangerous combination. Too dangerous.

"And you've seen me bleed before," she pointed out. But there was a difference between seeing her injured after a fight, and her willingly offering him to drink straight from the vein. He tried to pull her hand away from her neck but she resisted. "I trust you," she said sincerely, looking straight into his eyes. "I know you'll stay in control. And if I have to then I'll stop you. I'm not some helpless prey that can't defend itself."

With these words she pushed the blade into her skin, barely wincing when it finally drew blood. Spike recoiled as if she'd punched him in the gut. It knocked the wind out of him, the scent rich and thick, sharpening his senses to a razor's edge. Nothing could grab a vampire's attention like the ruby red and the demon had surfaced, transforming his features, ready to dive in. The only thing that stopped it from pouncing on her was Spike's soul, which wanted one thing and one thing only: storm up the stairs and get as far away from her as possible.

Low growl vibrating deep in his chest, his golden gaze stayed locked upon the cut, transfixed by the dark liquid, nearly black in this light, as it slowly slithered down her neck like some sort of fluid caviar, over her collarbone, started down her cleavage, calling to him...

Buffy sensed the struggle inside him and she reached out, her fingers tracing invitingly along his forearm, feeling the tense muscles flexing with leashed power under his pale skin, and eventually grabbing his upper arm. She could feel him start to yield when she pulled him to her and he bore no resistance, sliding closer to her, unblinking, as if hypnotized by the sight of her.

Heart thumping to a wild beat in anticipation, the sound drumming in the vampire's head as if nothing else existed, she pulled her hair so it all fell across her right shoulder and tilted her head to the side, giving herself over to him. That was what finally set him in into motion, her offering attitude luring him in. His left hand came up, entangling his fingers into the silken strands of her blond hair, while his right arm wound around her waist, pulling her body flush against his and tearing a little gasp for her lips. He walked her backward until the table dug into the back of her thighs and she was trapped between its edge and his hips.

He leaned in close, the mere feeling of his breathing stroking the skin of her throat invoking goosebumps down her back, and she began to feel dizzy before he'd even touched her. God, she'd forgotten how much power he could have over her. How he could make her so freaking weak in the knees with a snap of his fingers... Finally the lukewarm wetness of his tongue caressed her, and the Slayer's mind went blank, her eyes closing and her head lolling back in abandon.

The potent taste of Buffy Summers' blood spread through his mouth, warmed him from head to toe, and the flavor exploded in his mind like fireworks. She tasted like sunlight, and honey, and youth, and fire, and power, and forbidden, and passion, and love, and lust, and hot sex...and next thing he knew his fangs penetrated the tender skin around the cut, good intentions forgotten, and he sucked long and deep, triumphant ecstasy flooding through him.

Buffy quietly yelped, out of surprise more than pain, the knife slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor, her hands seized his shoulders and she pulled him close. Meanwhile the sinful connection had taken hold of their minds, and it sent both of the former lovers on an unexpected and vivid stroll down memory lane.

Thanks for reading. And remember, review is love :-)

AN: Here's a youtube playlist with all the songs that inspire the chapters' titles plus the songs Giles play on his guitar, just in case you're interested :-)
The end of the URL: /playlist?list=PLjSq_paEfXoyIsJeQTscGb8IWSvtR1eaQ