Chapter Four

Spike stood rooted to the spot, his desire for the woman he'd been kissing warring with the soul's unwillingness to hurt the woman who loved him.

The OTHER woman who loves me he realized with a start of surprise. While he was subconsciously amazed to find himself the object of the affections of two attractive women, without his memories the true irony of his situation was lost on him. There was no way for the Spike who took Anne's gentle love for him for granted to understand how starved for that kind of acceptance his pre-amnesia self had been.

He started walking back toward the shelter, briefly contemplating trailing Buffy to be sure she got back all right, then laughing at himself for worrying when he remembered how she'd handled the vampire pack. He shook his head in silent admiration of her grace and skill.

I've got no trouble seeing why I would have fallen in love with her. Never seen such a combination of strength and beauty wrapped up into one little package. One very passionate little package, apparently.

Struggling to put thoughts of the slayer and her warm body out of his mind, Spike went back up the steps and used his key to open the apartment door. He was surprised to find Anne sitting up, still dressed and obviously waiting for him. She pushed the book she'd been reading down the side of the couch cushion and stood up.

"A little late, isn't it, love?" he asked, shrugging out of his coat. "Don't you have to open the kitchen tomorrow morning?"

"Yes," she answered without explanation. She walked toward the bedroom, asking over her shoulder, "Are you coming to bed now?"

"In a bit, pet," he said casually as he opened the refrigerator and took out some blood. "I could use some food."

"You could drink from me," she offered quietly.

Spike carefully put his mug in the microwave and turned it on before turning to face her.

"You're not food," he said coldly.

"You took it before. When you were—"

"That was a one time thing. Told you that then. If I hadn't needed it to heal so I could throw out those soddin' gang bangers that were causing you so much trouble…"

She stared at him, silently for a minute and then asked calmly, "So, you don't want to drink from me unless it's an emergency."

"Isn't that what I just said? Bloody hell, woman, what's wrong with you tonight?"

"Nothing," she said finally. "I'm going to bed now."

She went into the bedroom and he could hear the normal sounds of her bedtime routine. When the water ran longer than he would have expected, he listened a little harder and picked up the sound of soft sobbing. With a sigh, he put down his half-empty mug and walked to the bathroom door, opening it to find Anne sitting on the closed toilet crying softly into her hands.

Spike came and sat on the edge of the bathtub, pulling her into his lap and running a soothing hand over her back.

"What's this all about, then?" he asked, afraid he already knew the answer, but knowing he had to ask.

"Why were you gone so long?" She responded by seeming to change the subject, but they both knew she really hadn't.

"Watched the slayer take out a gang of vamps and stayed to chat a little. Got caught up on a few things from the past six or seven years. But you already knew that, didn't you?" he asked, tipping her head up to look at him.

"I want you to bite me," she said, staring into his mystified eyes.

"I'm having a little trouble following these jumps in the conversation, pet. What has that ridiculous request got to do with how long I was gone or the waterworks in here?"

"Why don't you want to bite me?" she persisted stubbornly.

"Told you, you're not food," he growled. He stood up and deposited her on the floor. "Now if you're not going to tell me what's wrong, I'm going back to my pig's blood."

He waited for a few seconds, but when she didn't say anything else, he went back into the other room and finished the mug of blood. He stared into the empty container, idly watching the dregs begin to clot on the bottom and wondering what had gotten in to Anne. He wasn't so oblivious as to not understand that she was worried about Buffy's sudden arrival in his life. Especially now that he knew what they'd been to each other. Obviously Anne had picked up on something that he'd missed in Buffy's behavior and was worried about losing him to the Slayer. Which didn't explain her sudden interest in his biting her. Jealousy, he could understand. Wanting to donate blood all of a sudden he didn't.

With a flash of insight, he remembered the book she'd been reading when he came in and he walked over to the couch. Pulling the book out from between the cushions, he glanced at the title and then threw it across the room with a guttural snarl. He stared at the open door leading to the darkened bedroom and ran his hand over his head in distraction.

"Bloody stupid bint," he muttered, growling to himself. He walked to the wall and picked up the copy of "Mating Rituals of Vampires" that Anne had been reading when he came in. Suddenly her request that he drink from her made a frightening kind of sense. She'd read just enough to know about claiming, and not enough to understand it.

He sighed heavily and debated just staying in the living room until she was asleep, but knew that would just mean neither one of them would get any sleep that night. He put the mug in the sink, turned off the lights, and walked into the dark bedroom, shedding his clothes as he went.

Anne's uneven breathing told him she was still awake and fighting more tears. Bloody hell, I've seen more female tears today that I have in the past six months total. He sighed and reached an arm around her, pulling her close to his chest and letting the semi-hard-on he'd been sporting since Buffy's kiss press into her back.

"I'm not going to bite you, and I'm not going to leave you," he said quietly, dropping a kiss on her shoulder.

He felt her shudder, then she turned in his embrace and looked into his face, knowing he could see her much better than she could see him. She wrapped one of her long, slender legs over his hip and pulled herself closer while she murmured, "I'm sorry. I was just so scared when I figured out why she was here. And then you didn't come back…"

"Told you I would," he replied quietly. "I wouldn't lie to you, pet."

She sighed softly. "I know you wouldn't. I just…she's so beautiful, and so strong…and she loves you. I could see it. She really loves you and I—" She hitched another half-sob, half breath and burrowed into his neck.

"She does," he admitted. "But the man she loves – the man who loved her – he doesn't live here anymore. I don't know who he is." He rubbed her back reassuringly, even as he decided to be completely honest with her. "I'm not saying I can't see how I could have loved her. I suspect the old me would have found it very easy to do. And I'm not saying I'm not going to see her again."

He felt her stiffen in his arms and kissed the top of her head and murmured soothingly until she relaxed again.

"She knows a lot about my past, Anne. Much more than just what we talked about tonight. She can tell me about when I was turned, maybe even something about me before I was a vampire. And she can tell me about Drusilla, and Angel or Angelus. If she can't bring my memory back, she can at least help me fill in some holes. Give me back a bit of who I am."

"And if she can give you your memory back?"

"Don't do this to yourself, love," he pleaded. "Getting my memory back wouldn't mean I'd forget you and what we have now. And she's not here to give me my memory back – even the Slayer can't do that. Can we not worry about that unless it happens?"

"I'm sorry," she sighed, raising her face to look at him again. "I know I'm behaving like a jealous girl friend, but—"

"You're behaving like a woman who loves me. And I can't tell you how much that means to me, pet. How that makes me feel."

He rolled over and pressed her gently into the mattress, stopping any more questions with soft kisses that gradually deepened until she wrapped her long, slim arms and legs around him and pulled him in to her body. Neither one was willing to consider the implications of his not having told her he loved her, and Spike gave her no opportunity to point it out, beginning a gentle rhythm that had become very familiar to them both.

He made love to her with skill and affection, taking care, as he always did not to use his vampiric strength in a way that could hurt her. He was mildly curious as to why his demon remained so docile in what should have been a very tempting situation for it, but attributed it to the lack of passion generated by Anne's sweet, gentle love making.

As he felt her body shudder around him with her orgasm and allowed himself to find a release in her depths, he tried to push thoughts of a smaller, warmer and stronger body out of his head. But no matter how hard he tried, memories of what Buffy had felt like in his arms earlier made his own orgasm more powerful than usual and he mentally groaned at his body's betrayal of the woman moving under him.

Chapter Five

Buffy slept late the next day, knowing Spike wouldn't be waking up before early afternoon and not sure if she would be welcome at the shelter anyway. She spoke to Dawn and promised her she would try to get him to talk to her on the phone. She repeatedly reminded her sister that he didn't remember them or anything about them but eventually gave in to Dawn's pleas. Now that her sister was growing up, she rarely used her whining voice to get her way and Buffy couldn't fight it the way she used to.

"Fine, Dawn!" she finally huffed in irritation. "I will torture myself by walking back into the home he is sharing with someone else and suffer the embarrassment of knowing they know how I feel, just so you can find out for yourself that he doesn't know you either."

Ignoring everything except the part that said Buffy was going to get Spike to call her, Dawn cheerfully replied, "Okay, great. I'll be waiting for the call."

In spite of her promise to Dawn, Buffy put off calling or going to the shelter for several hours until she realized that the longer she waited, the more likely Spike and Anne would be back in their apartment. Having no desire to see any more domesticity than she already had, Buffy quickly left her room to run to the shelter and try to catch Spike before he went upstairs with Anne.

Luck was with her. Well, here's a first. Something goes right for Buffy romantically, she thought wryly when the first volunteer she asked told her Spike was in the basement and that Anne had gone out for supplies with one of the other volunteers. She quickly tripped down the stairs to the basement of the old shelter and looked around for the vampire. A string of colorful British curses led her to the area where he was trying to wrestle an old armoire across the room.

Buffy watched with a smile for a few seconds, knowing that he was more than strong enough to carry the large piece of furniture, but was having trouble getting the right grip on it. After she'd watched him struggle, and listened to him swearing and sounding very much like himself, she quietly stepped to the other side and picked up one end of it. He threw a startled glance up as the load became lighter and easier to control, then nodded briefly as though strong girls helped him every day. He gestured toward the far wall and said, "It's going right over there, pet."

With both of them carrying it, the reluctant closet was soon sitting against the wall waiting for someone to put something in it. They stepped away from it and stood awkwardly, facing each other from a few feet away.

"Thank you, luv," he said automatically. He was not looking at her and missed the way her face lit up, but not the increase in her heart rate. Realizing what he'd said, he quickly tried to backtrack.

"That wasn't…I didn't mean…"

"It's okay, Spike." She smiled at him sadly. "It's just how you talk to women. I know that. I promise not to make anything out of it."

Thoroughly embarrassed, he put his hands in the pockets of his jeans and shuffled his feet.

"I wasn't sure I'd see you again," he said softly. "After last night. I thought you might not want to come back here."

"I didn't," she said flatly. "But I promised Dawn I would ask you to call her. You won't remember this, but when she starts whining for something it's just in everybody's best interest to give it to her and not drag out the agony. It's only postponing the inevitable anyway."

"Gets her way a lot, does she?"

"Well, with you, she certainly did. You couldn't refuse her anything."

Buffy's lip had unconsciously snuck out in a small pout as she complained about the way he catered to her sister, and once again his eyes were riveted on it.

"I suspect there wasn't much I could deny you, either, Slayer," he said dryly, tearing his eyes away from her lips.

"Not much," she agreed softly. "You always give—gave me whatever I wanted or needed."

"Pussy-whipped, huh?" he said with a self-deprecating smile.

"You are such a pig, Spike," she snorted automatically.

He grinned and came back with, "So where is this creature with the powerful whine? Can I call her later tonight?"

"Well, She's in England. So if you wait too long, it'll be the middle of the night. She said she'd wait for your call – but that was a while ago…."

"I don't have a cell – we could go up to the apartment—"

"No!"

The raw emotion in her voice made him cringe and he cursed himself for being an insensitive fool.

"I'm sorry, pet. That was…I'm a stupid git. Let me get my coat and we'll go somewhere else to make the call…."

Mortified that she'd let Spike see how affected she was by his new life, Buffy blinked back tears and said as calmly as she could, "No, I'm sorry. I need to…to accept the situation and learn to deal. To move on."

He tilted his head at her and studied her resolute face. Once again, he was as impressed with her emotional strength as with the physical. He'd only known her twenty-four hours and already he understood that when she loved it was fiercely and passionately. And, clearly, after almost two years of thinking he was dead, she still loved him. He felt a sudden pang of regret that he didn't remember this amazing woman and what she meant to him.

Bloody hell, what did I do to earn this kind of loyalty from a woman like this? There's no way I'm fit to carry her coat. I'm beneath her.

"I have my cell with me," she said into the silence. She pulled it out of her pocket and held it out to him. "There's no signal down here, though. We're going to have to go outside."

"Alright then," he agreed, taking it from her. "Let's go turn off the whine machine."

Smiling, she led the way back up stairs, only to find an angry-looking Anne on her way down.

"What are you doing down here?" she demanded coldly. She made no attempt to hide her feelings from either one of them and Buffy reacted in true Slayer fashion by hardening her own expression.

"I was talking to Spike," she said with a challenge in her voice. "Dawn asked him to call her."

"We're just going outside where the phone will work, love," Spike tried to mediate. "I'll be right back."

"That's what you said last night," Anne replied stubbornly, still standing between them and the top of the stairs.

"I came back," Spike said in a tone she'd never heard from him before. He stepped around Buffy, trying to ignore the way his body reacted to her warmth, and gently turned Anne around and urged her back up the stairs. When they all reached the top, Buffy pushed past the taller woman with a glare.

"If it's all right with you," she ground out. "My little sister would like to talk to the vampire who cared for her when I wasn't able to. You know, the one she loves? The one she thought was dead?"

"He isn't going to know her any more than he knows you," Anne said, knowing she sounded like a petulant child, but unable to help herself. Spike's surprised frown did nothing to help her mood, and she walked away before she said anything else she might regret later.

Another uncomfortable silence ensued while Spike looked after his girlfriend in confusion and Buffy smothered homicidal urges. Then they turned as one and headed for the door. While Buffy'd been inside, the sun had begun to sink into the west and there was plenty of shade in which Spike could stand while he talked on the phone.

Buffy found Dawn's number for him and pushed the button to make the call before handing the phone back to him.

"What do I call her?" he asked hurriedly as it began to ring.

"Call her Dawn," she answered quickly. "If I tell you her nickname, she'll never believe you aren't…you."

She watched his face carefully as Dawn answered on the second ring, searching for any sign that her sister's voice could evoke something hers hadn't. But the vampire's face remained smooth and calm as he said carefully, "Dawn? How are you, pet?"

From the look on his face, Buffy could tell Dawn had launched right into a rant about what a jerk he was for letting them think he was dead and she smiled as he grew more and more uncomfortable when the voice on the phone became shriller and shriller. He was holding the phone slightly away from his ear and said jokingly, "Hey, you're being a little hard on the vampire hearing, Bit. Think you could tone it down?"

There was blessed silence for several seconds and then the sound of sobbing came clearly through the phone. He turned bewildered eyes to Buffy, only to find her eyes filling with tears also even as a smile trembled at the corners of her mouth.

"Oi! I've had just about all the female tears I want for the rest of my unlife in the past day," he said, shoving the phone at her. "Here, do something! I don't know what I said to set this off."

"You called her 'Bit", Buffy said softly, never taking her glistening eyes off his. "You called her 'Bit'."

She took the phone from him and talked into it softly. "Yes, Dawnie, I heard him. No, I don't know. Yes, I will. Yes. Yes it is. Yes. Me too. Okay. I'll talk to you tomorrow morning. Yes. Yes. Love you too. I'll tell him."

She closed the phone and held it tightly while Spike shifted around nervously.

Hoping he was right, and knowing he wasn't, he asked, "So, I called her a 'bit' and made her cry. Does she not like that word, or something?"

Raising one eyebrow in an unconscious imitation of him when he heard something patently ridiculous, she just looked at him until he lowered his gaze and said, "Guess not, huh?"

Buffy shook her head. "Nope. That was your name for her. 'Bit' or 'Niblet' or 'Bite Size."

"I still don't remember anything, Buffy," he said quickly. 'I don't know where that came from, but it didn't suddenly make my memories appear."

"I know," she said softly. "But it's a start. It shows you're in there somewhere."

"Don't go making more out of it than it is, Slayer," he warned, his desire to remember the woman in front of him at odds with his reluctance to hurt Anne any more than he already had.

"Okay," she agreed, much too readily. He sent her a suspicious look but she just looked back at him innocently. "Spike doesn't love Buffy any more. I got it."

"Just so we understand each other," he grumbled, not sure if he liked the way she agreed so easily.

"I'm going patrolling later. If you'd like to come. If it's a slow night, we should have time for me to fill you in on some more things from your past."

"I'd like that, pet," he agreed eagerly. "Meet you at the cemetery? About 9:00?"

"It's a date," she said cheerfully and strode off down the street.

"It bloody well is not a date!" he shouted after her, not noticing Anne standing in the doorway until he turned around.

She said nothing, just went back into the building and back to serving the evening meals. With a sigh, he went up to the apartment and fixed himself a mug of blood, gulping it down quickly. He warmed up another one and sat down to watch the news and enjoy that one in a more leisurely fashion.

When Anne came up stairs later and watched him putting on his coat, she said nothing, just put her dinner in the microwave and sat back on the couch, holding the book he'd found the night before.

"That was written by humans, love," he said quietly.

"So?"

"So they don't know what they're talking about any more than those morons you used to hang out with in Sunnydale knew what a vampire really was. Don't go reading that and thinking you know about vampires. Don't need my memories to know that."

She didn't reply and after an exasperated minute he left without saying anything other than, "I'll be back later."

Spike approached the cemetery to find Buffy engaged in fighting a very large, very drunk Fyarl demon. He waited by the gate, admiring her grace and athleticism until he saw the Fyarl throw her against the wall of a tomb. It wasn't until Buffy groaned and struggled to get up that he realized she had no weapon but the stake in her hand. She'd been fighting the demon on its terms because she had no other options and her arms were too short to do serious damage with the stake.

She staggered to her feet, only to be carried back to the ground under the angry demon's weight. With a roar, Spike grabbed the Fyarl and yanked it up and off Buffy, meeting her accusing eyes with an apologetic shrug before kicking the demon back and away. He quickly pulled her to her feet, muttering a "Sorry, pet, got caught up in watching you fight," before they both turned to face the still angry and attacking demon.

With no more communication than a nod, they attacked as one – Buffy driving toward the demon's knees and Spike burying his fangs in its throat. Between having its throat ripped open and the stake Buffy was able to drive through its heart, the demon was quickly dispatched. They stood up, panting slightly and stepped away from the still-bleeding corpse.

While Spike gagged and spit over the demon blood he'd ingested, Buffy put her hands on her hips and glared at him.

"The Spike I know would never pass up a chance to join a fight just to watch," she said angrily."

"The Spike you know is used to seeing you in action, pet. He probably wouldn't have been so gobsmacked at how beautiful you are when you're fighting."

The sincere compliment took the sting out of Spike's delayed reaction to her need for back-up and Buffy tried not to sound as mollified as she actually was when she responded, "Well, now I'm all bruised and dirty and…."

"And, what?"

"And I wanted to look pretty for you tonight," she mumbled, fingering a rip in her jacket and wrinkling her nose at the Fyarl blood all over her pants.

"You look bleedin' beautiful, Buffy," he said softly, sounding so much like her Spike that her heart jumped. She looked up quickly only to find his eyes filled with the admiration of a stranger. There was appreciation, definitely; and more than a trace of lust, but the love and recognition she was looking for weren't there and she sighed tiredly.

They'd been walking for several minutes before Spike realized Buffy was limping and wincing with each step.

"You're hurt, Slayer! Why didn't you say something?" The concern on his face was genuine, if more impersonal than she would have liked.

"Yeah," she admitted, stopping to sit down on a tombstone. "I think I might be done for the night. I'm sorry," she added apologetically. "I thought we'd get a good patrol in, but…"

"Nothing to apologize for, luv. If I hadn't been such a git, you wouldn't be hurt. 'S my fault. Can just sit and talk if you like. We can patrol some other time."

Buffy smiled happily at the suggestion that they would be out together again, then looked at her ruined clothes and bit her lip.

"Do you think that we could go back to my hotel and sit there?" she asked timidly. "I'd really like to get cleaned up and maybe put some ice on my hip."

She held her breath, waiting to see if he would refuse to be alone with her in the more intimate setting, but he just jumped up and replied, "Of course, pet. Let me help you."

Buffy swallowed the automatic "I can walk myself" when she realized he was planning to carry her. He scooped her up, marveling once again at how someone so tiny could be so powerful.

They were both very stiff as he began striding down the sidewalk, Buffy not wanting him to think she was taking advantage of the situation and Spike worried that she would notice the effect her nearness was having on him and misunderstand his intentions.

It's nothing to do with her, really. Just a reaction to the fight – that's all, he told himself silently as he tried to deny the way his body was reacting to her scent and the feel of her skin. When he tried to shift his grip so as not to be touching bare skin, he almost dropped her. Buffy gave a small "eep!" and threw her arms around his neck.

"Sorry, luv," he almost gasped as he realized his attempt to keep his distance now had her holding on for dear life.

"It's okay," she said, equally breathlessly, using her closer proximity as an excuse to rest her head on his chest. "I'll just hang on a little tighter."

"Oh yeah," he tried not to groan. "Good idea. Bloody good idea."

With Buffy giving directions, they were soon in front of her hotel and he set her down carefully, keeping one arm around her waist as she pulled out her key and opened the side door. Spike held the door for her and she limped past him with a grateful smile. As soon as she was in and Spike spotted the elevators, he picked her back up and quickly strode to the nearest one.

Buffy smiled with embarrassment at the elderly couple sharing the elevator with them and blushed when she heard them as Spike stepped off on her floor, "Isn't that sweet? They must be newlyweds."

In front of her door, Spike once again reluctantly set her down, telling himself he was just worried that she'd fall. It's not like I really want to keep holding her like that. Just trying to keep her safe is all.

Buffy limped into the room and grabbing some sweats from a drawer she said, "I'll be right back."

The bathroom door had barely shut behind her when Spike grabbed the ice bucket and key and went searching for ice. By the time a cleaner Buffy emerged from the bathroom, he was back and wrapping the ice in a pillowcase.

"Here you go, luv," he said gruffly. "Put this on that hip."

Her grateful smile and whispered, "Thank you," sent a warm rush through his chest and he smiled back at her affectionately before catching himself and walking over to the only chair in the room. Buffy gingerly climbed onto the bed and propped herself up on the pillows before settling down with the ice pack on her aching hip.

They sat in surprisingly comfortable silence for several minutes before Spike ventured, "So, pet. Since we aren't going to be beating any more big bads tonight, how about you tell me what you know of my life before you?"

'What makes you think you had a life before me?" she teased gently.

"Ha, bloody ha, Slayer," he growled without real menace.

"I asked you before, Spike," she said, suddenly serious. "Are you sure you want to know all this?"

"Let me have it, Slayer. Give it to me good."

"'K, then, let me tell you about a shy poet and how he became a part of the scourge of Europe."

Buffy talked for over an hour, pausing to answer Spike's questions when she could, apologizing when she couldn't. Sometime during the recitation, when she'd attempted to reach out to him with a comforting hand and hurt her sore hip, Spike had moved to the bed. He sat beside her, leaning against the headboard and listening intently, but not touching her. When she said her mouth was dry, he absently handed her an ice cube from the bucket, shivering a little when she took it from his fingers with her mouth.

When Buffy had run out of facts about his past both as human and vampire, and Spike had run out of questions, they rested side-by-side while he tried to find something familiar in all the information she'd given him. He growled softly in frustration as his damaged brain refused to respond to any of it.

Buffy looked at him curiously when he growled and he shook his head and gave her a small smile.

"Sorry, pet. It's just so bloody frustrating not being able to recognize anything or anybody with all those new facts to gnaw on. Didn't frighten you, did I?"

Buffy's snort of derision reminded him that he was sitting next to the longest-lived slayer in history and he ducked his head in embarrassment.

"Right. Sitting next to the slayer who used to kick my arse regularly. Forgot there for a second."

"Need a reminder?" she teased, pretending to be throwing a punch at his face. Spike's automatic response was to throw a hand up to protect his nose and they both froze at the clear reminder that somehow his body knew her even if his heart and mind didn't.

Spike looked away from her hopeful eyes and muttered," So my nose is your favorite body part, eh, Slayer?"

"Only when I'm trying to hit you," she said with a shrug, peering at him through her lowered lashes.

"What about when you aren't trying to hit me?" he asked huskily, berating himself for the leading question, even as he met her flirtatious gaze with a heated look of his own.

"It depends," she answered breathlessly, leaning forward just far enough for him to feel the heat of her body. "Sometimes I think it's your lips." She ran the tip of one finger around his mouth lightly, shivering when he wrapped his lips around her finger briefly. "Sometimes I think it's your cheekbones," she continued, stroking the side of his face gently. "Or," she went on, growing bolder, "it could be your nice flat tummy." She ran her hand down his chest, over his suddenly tensed muscles, stopping when she got to the top of his low-cut jeans. Sliding her hand under the hem of his tee shirt, she ran her fingers across the soft skin of his lower abdomen to touch the ridge of his hip, then back across the silky expanse of skin to the other prominent hipbone.

The vampire was almost quivering in anticipation, the bulge pressing against the zipper of his jeans aching for her to continue her slow litany of her favorite body parts. Instead of touching him where his mind was insisting she shouldn't go, and his body was screaming that she had to, she moved her hands to his arms and stroked his biceps and forearms, moving down to his hands and linking her fingers with his.

"Or, it might be your hands. Your hands that have pulled me to safety so many times, the fists that you've used to defend me and mine, your fingers that know all the right places to touch me…" She stroked his hands with her thumbs and ducked her head to plant soft light kisses on his knuckles.

Spike's audible groan and the way he shifted uncomfortably on the bed told her she'd done all she could to awaken his body's memories, and giving his hands a little squeeze, she let go and sat back against her pillows with a satisfied smile.

"You pleased with yourself, Slayer?" he growled, making no attempt to hide the way he was adjusting himself in an attempt to relieve the pressure in his pants.

"You know you liked it, " she responded with grin. "You love it when I tease you. It gives you an excuse to get all growly and rough"

"And do you like it when I'm growly and rough?" he asked, trying to put memories of the care he had to take with Anne from his mind and failing utterly. The thought of making love with a woman who not only welcomed the demon in him, but could take whatever the demon dished out and meet it blow for blow was making him harder by the second.

"Oh yeah," she admitted, cutting her eyes to the side to watch his reaction. "I think your growl is really sexy. I thought that even when you were trying to kill me. When you had me pinned down and you growled, it made me tingly all over."

Images of having Buffy pinned to the ground with his body flooded his brain and he was speechless for several seconds imagining how it must have felt to be pressing her to the ground with his fangs on her throat. He had to clear his throat several times before he could get out, "If I've had you down with my teeth on you, why the bloody hell aren't you dead?"

"Good question," she said cheerily. "Maybe it makes you all tingly too."

Suddenly serious, she looked at his tortured face and whispered, 'Wanna find out?"

He groaned and fought the urge to throw himself on top of her, demon to the fore. "You're playing with fire, here, Slayer. You don't know what you're doing to me."

"Yes, I do," she said seriously. "I know your body. Just like you know mine. I know what you like. I know what makes you moan, and cry out and what makes your demon come out to play."

"And the point of this is?"

"I want you," she said honestly. "I really want you to remember me and love me and want me the way you used to. But if I can't have that, I'll settle for your body. It's been too long, William. I want—I need to feel you again."

She bit her lip and tried to maintain eye contact as she laid her emotions bare before him. Buffy knew she could have kept teasing and flirting and probably lured him into making love to her, but something told her that she needed to be honest with him and let him make the decision.

When minutes dragged by and he remained precious inches away, clearly fighting his body's obvious desire for her, she felt her eyes begin to fill with tears and she looked away, blinking rapidly. The vampire had seen the wetness and smelled the tears, though, and he cursed himself for letting things get to this point.

What kind of a wanker am I, to let these two wonderful women shed so many tears over me? If I could just remember! I know what Anne means to me; but this one…she pulls on me in ways I never thought I'd—but I can't love somebody I don't know.

Spike fell back against the headboard, cursing softly under his breath and trying not to feel the bed shaking with Buffy's now audible sobs. The only sounds in the room were her soft crying and Spike's muttered curses until his innate inability to listen to a woman's crying forced him up. He rolled to his side and gently pulled Buffy toward him, taking care not to hurt her injured hip as he did so.

When his arms went around her and he began to rub soothing circles on her back and whisper comforting nonsense in her ear, she clutched his shirt and let out the pent up grief she'd been trying to contain for two days. He held her as tightly as he could while her body was wracked with hard, gasping sobs. Eventually, exhaustion set in and her sobs tapered off to gulps and sniffles, allowing him to loosen the tight grip he'd kept on her while she allowed her emotions free rein.

As Buffy's breathing evened out and went back to normal, she relaxed onto his chest and he realized that she had cried herself to sleep. He settled back onto the pillows behind her and let her sleep on his chest while he tried to imagine a way out the situation that wouldn't cause pain for either of the two women. He didn't love the girl in his arms; didn't remember loving her, but he was already sure that he didn't want to do anything to add to the pain she'd clearly suffered in her short life.

I could love her, that's for bloody sure. It would be so easy, wouldn't take more than another day or two. Or a good shag. I'd be hers, no question about it.

While he mulled his options, his senses were soaking up her scent, the sound of her heartbeat, the feel of her silky hair on his face. The even beat of her heart and the soft sounds of her breathing had a soothing effect on his battered emotions and he drifted off to sleep himself, his arms still wrapped around her.

He awoke to awareness that dawn was only a few hours away and he carefully extricated himself from the warm body curled into his. Buffy murmured in protest when he slid his arms out from under her, but didn't wake up. Not sure why he did so, Spike dropped a soft kiss on her forehead before moving to the door and leaving the room.

Spike entered the apartment quietly, noting with relief that Anne had not waited up for him this time. He quickly shed his clothes and eased into the bed, turning on his side to face away from the woman pretending to be asleep beside him. Anne frequently forgot about Spike's vampire enhancements and was unaware that he could tell she wasn't really asleep. However, since it enabled him to pretend right along with her, they remained in silence until she could no longer bite back her anger.

"You might at least have showered before you got in bed with me." Her tone was bitter and colder than he'd ever heard from her.

It took him a second of guilty thought before he realized that, unlike another vampire would have been, she was not reacting to Buffy's smell being all over him, but just assuming he'd been having sex with her. The human woman had no way of knowing there was no trace of sexual contact on his body.

"Nothing to shower off, pet," he began in a conciliating manner. "Nothing happened. She told me all about my poncy human self and about Angelus, Dru and Darla and some of the things we did together. It wasn't pretty and it took a toll on my soul to hear about it. Especially knowing that there are still decades of killing she couldn't fill me in on. I feel asleep, is all. When I woke up, I came home."

"Why not?"

"Why not, what?" Spike asked, genuinely confused as he'd already forgotten the first part of his speech.

"Why did nothing happen. And why should I believe you?"

"Because I promised you it wouldn't," he replied with a touch of anger. "And you should believe me because I don't lie to you."

There was no response to that and he eventually allowed himself to relax and fall back asleep, staying in bed well into the afternoon.

Chapter Six

Buffy awoke slowly, her body still aching from the beating it had taken the night before. She went over the evening in her head but remembered nothing past her hysterical crying on Spike's chest. She did remember his soothing words and gentle hands, and since she had no memory of his leaving, she assumed he'd stayed with her for at least a while after she stopped crying.

All right. Honesty didn't work; I guess it's time for more feminine wiles. Who would have thought that some day I'd be trying to woo Spike? The vampire who stalked me for a year before I gave him his crumb. Who allowed me to use and abuse him and returned nothing but understanding and love. Who went and got his soul because he thought he'd hurt me. The vampire who died to save the world for me. The one whose love I took for granted for so many years I don't even know how to begin to earn it back.

Deciding a hot bath was a good start; she forced her aching body out of the bed, pausing to sniff the pillows that still smelled faintly of tobacco and leather. She began filling the tub with hot water and collected her shampoos and bath gels in preparation for a good long soak.

She luxuriated in the tub until the water began to cool, then quickly washed her hair and got out. She spent more time rubbing lotions on her body, making sure her skin was soft everywhere he might touch her. She threw on some clothes and ran out to have an early meal, allowing herself plenty of time to get ready before darkness set in. She couldn't have said why she was confident that he would come back that night, but she knew that he would. And Buffy the Vampire Slayer intended to be ready for him.

She was in the midst of trying on and discarding outfits to wear that evening when she heard a knock on the door of her room. Frowning slightly, she looked out the window to see that it was still daylight, so unlikely to be Spike showing up early.

Years as a slayer had her hiding a knife in her sleeve as she went to the door and pulled it open slowly. Standing on the other side was a very determined looking Anne, clutching a small book to her chest.

"Can I come in?" She stared defiantly at the smaller woman, refusing to back down from the cold glare.

Buffy silently stepped back and opened the door the rest of the way. She made a big show of taking the knife out of her sleeve and putting it down on the nightstand, before going back to her wardrobe.

"We're mated, you know," Anne astonished her by stating baldly.

"You're whatted?" Buffy's knowledge of vampire mating rituals was very slight. Giles had never felt it necessary to address that side of her enemy's nature, feeling the less she knew about a vampire's ability to love, the easier it would be to do her job.

"Mated. I'm claimed." Anne tilted her head and pulled back her long hair to display the scars on her neck.

"He bit you," Buffy said coldly. "That's not a life-long commitment; that's a snack." She spoke firmly, but her stomach was suddenly turning over in trepidation. She remembered seeing Spike nuzzle the marks on her first day there and the way it had made her feel.

"If a vampire bites you, without wanting to kill, it's a claim. An irrevocable connection that lasts until one of you dies. It's all right here," she said, thrusting the book at Buffy.

Buffy glanced at the title "Mating Rituals of Vampires" and said slowly, "No. Spike wouldn't do that to me. He would have told me if he and you—"

"Spike is too nice for his own good," the other woman said angrily. "He doesn't want to hurt you. That's why he didn't tell you. This mark means I belong to him – and he belongs to me."

"Only until he gets his memories back," Buffy said through gritted teeth. Her heart pounded in fear that she might be speaking optimistically out of ignorance of what the bites actually meant, but she kept up a confident front in the face of her rival. Neither woman was making any attempt to pretend they weren't having a confrontation over the vampire.

"Buffy," Anne tried to sound reasonable. "Spike loves me. I'm sure of it. But I think he might have loved you too. A long time ago." She ignored Buffy's high pitched, "might have loved me?" and continued as though she was explaining things to someone very slow to understand. "What do you think will happen if you find a way to bring back his memory and he finds himself mated to me for life? Knowing you still want him and he can never be with you? It will break his heart. Is that really what you want? To tear him apart like that?"

"I can't control what happens with his memory," Buffy replied, fear clenching her heart at the thought of hurting Spike again.

"If you're not here, there won't be so much to remind him of things. And even if it comes back, if he thinks you don't want him any more he'll be willing to stay here. With his mate. Where he's been happy."

"I don't believe this mate stuff," Buffy growled. "So he bit you once. That doesn't make it a claim or a mating."

"It does if he did it while we were making love," Anne insisted. "It's all right here in this book. You can read it for yourself." She tossed the book on the bed and turned to leave before it could occur to Buffy that she might solve the problem by throwing Anne out the window. "Just remember," Anne offered as her parting shot, "if he spends the rest of his life miserable because he can't be with you, it'll be your fault."

Buffy stood frozen, the shirt she'd been trying on still in her hand. Cursing herself for not paying more attention to vampire culture and ritual, she eyed the book on her bed as though it was an angry cobra. She went back over Spike's behavior the past two days. The obvious desire in his eyes and his unusual – for him- ability to walk away from what she offered. She'd seen the conflict in his face, felt the trembling of his body as he resisted the physical memory she'd awakened. A sudden terror seized her heart at the idea that Anne might be telling the truth, that the vampire she was in love with had unwittingly bound himself forever to another woman.

She dropped the shirt on the floor and, with a trembling hand, picked up the book and sat down. She stared hard at it for a full minute, as though the force of her glare could change what she was going to find inside, then sighed and opened it to the first page.

Chapter Seven

Spike's sleep was filled with dreams and images that seemed strange and familiar at the same time. He dreamed about Europe and Angelus, Darla and Dru. Visions of convents in which Angelus raped and tortured nuns for hours before allowing his family to finally kill and eat them had him moaning in his sleep, his soul cringing at the pictures in his head.

Other, more pleasant visions brought him scenes of patrolling with Buffy, their easy banter indicating a gentle camaraderie that seemed to vanish when the visions became erotic dreams of hours of rough, brutal sex in a dark crypt. There was even a flash of a night spent happily holding her while she slept in an eerie reflection of the way they'd spent the night just past.

When Spike finally got up, he found that Anne had gone out to run an errand, so he busied himself working on rearranging the basement again. When his senses told him it was approaching twilight, he quit moving old furniture around and came back upstairs to find his girlfriend waiting for him with a sweet smile and a cup of warm blood.

"Thank you, love," he said, dropping a quick, chaste kiss on her upturned face. He dismissed the suspicious thoughts that tried to tell him she would not have gotten over her anger so quickly, and gladly accepted her peace offering.

"You're welcome, honey," she said with a gentle smile. "I'm sorry I've been such a bitch about the Slayer. I know she can tell you a lot about your past and I know how much you hate not knowing anything about…before. I've been very selfish, trying to keep you from talking to her. I want you to get all the information you can from her before she leaves."

Leaves? Buffy is leaving? What the hell?

Giving her a bemused nod, he carried his mug upstairs and cleaned it out in the sink before stepping into the shower to clean off the dust and dirt from the basement. Unlike many vampires, Spike tried to stay as clean and fresh smelling as was possible for someone who was essentially an animated corpse.

Twenty minutes and a clean pair of jeans and tee shirt later, he was back downstairs and ready to help Anne with the evening meal and clean up.

He found himself cocking an ear toward the door, halfway expecting Buffy to come looking for him to patrol with her now that it was dark, but she didn't appear. By the time they had found beds for everyone who needed one and closed up for the night, he was beginning to worry. Wondering if she had gone out by herself again, expecting him to meet her at the cemetery.

Memories of her injury last night, and not being sure how much she would have healed yet, fueled his worry and he finally ran upstairs to grab his coat.

"Tell Buffy I said 'bye and safe trip' if I don't see her again," Anne said cheerfully, cringing inside at the worried frown on his face but keeping her outer demeanor caring and trusting.

"She didn't say anything about leaving yet," he muttered, pulling on his duster and staring at the door.

"Well, you know, maybe she got an earlier flight and just didn't want to bother you about it. I'm sure she'll call once she gets back to let you know how to reach her. In case your memory comes back, or something."

"She wouldn't leave without telling me," he growled.

He was sure the woman he'd held while she cried over him, the one he'd continued to hold while she slept trustingly in his arms, would not have given up so easily. Buffy Summers did not seem like the kind to sneak off with her tail between her legs just because she was hurt.

Then he remembered how she'd bared her emotions to him the previous night. How she had backed off from her clearly successful seduction to offer him the chance to make a choice. And he remembered what his choice had been. Suddenly getting to her hotel and making sure she was still there took precedence over anything else and without so much as a "good night" to Anne, he was out the door and sprinting the blocks to Buffy's hotel.

He stretched out his senses and gasped with relief when he felt her presence as he approached her door. He knocked quickly and was already turning the handle when her quiet, "Come in, Spike," came to his ears.

His joy at knowing she hadn't left LA quickly turned back to concern when he saw the packed bags on the bed and watched Buffy continue to stuff make-up in an outside pocket.

"What are you doing?" His voice came out much angrier than he intended, and he watched her flinch before she turned around to face him.

"What I should have done as soon as I saw you with Anne. As soon as I saw your mark on her."

Her eyes were red-rimmed from the crying that had obviously occupied her for hours, although they were now dry and lifeless as she met his gaze.

"I'm sorry, Spike. You should have told me. I would have backed off." She turned back to her packing, missing his totally bewildered expression and gaping mouth. "God knows I've hurt you enough through the years. I would never willingly do something like that to you again. You really should have told me."

Finally finding his voice, the vampire croaked, "Told you what? Are you sure it was Drusilla who was my batty ex-girlfriend? Cause right now, Slayer, you've got to be runnin' her a close second."

"Stop pretending!" Suddenly the animation was back in her eyes and on her face. She radiated pain and anger as she rounded on him. "I know all about it. Anne told me."

"Anne told you what?" he asked in a deceptively calm voice, already guessing what he was going to hear.

"That you're mated. That you claimed her while you were…making love," her voice hitched, then evened out as her anger enabled her to smother the despair that permeated her soul. "She told me about it and then I read about what it means."

She picked up the small book and threw it at him, hitting him in the forehead. "I don't know why you never bit me- all the times we…I mean it's not like you didn't have a lot of opportunities. I guess you just didn't want me enough to—"

"Bloody, buggering fuck!" Spike's scream as he threw the book against the wall so hard it dented the drywall, stopped her in mid sentence.

"Are they giving this soddin' book away on every street corner in this fucking city? Where the hell did you get this?"

"Anne gave it to me," Buffy said dully, "I guess it's one book Giles didn't have in his collection, or I would have known as soon as I saw your mark on her…"

"Your watcher didn't have it because it's pure unadulterated crap! It's written by the same ignorant gits that had her and her friends thinking I was planning to sire the whole lot of them rather than just eat them."

"Wh—what? It's wrong?" Hope bloomed in her face, although her worried frown stayed. "You didn't claim her? You're not bonded in some weird vampire marriage?"

"No, Buffy," he said, his voice quiet and suddenly gentle as he moved closer to her. "I never claimed her. Wouldn't do that. I don't love her. Right now, I don't think I even like her very much," he added with a growl.

That got a small smile from Buffy, and he watched the hope blossom in her eyes again before she said tremulously, "But you did bite her. I saw your marks."

"I didn't mark her, love. Those are just scars from the bite that haven't faded yet. I bit her because I was so weak and she needed me to throw out some gang banger wankers that were giving her a hard time, trying to take over the shelter and use it as a front for drug running. She offered out of fear, and I took it because I was afraid for her. I told her to cut her wrist for me, but she's afraid of sharp things and she said she'd rather I did it the 'right' way."

"Stupid vampire groupie," Buffy muttered.

"Yeah," he sighed. "I should've picked up on that, I guess, but with not knowing her history…"

"So, you're not…"

"No."

"And you didn't…"

"Jesus Christ, Buffy! If half of what you told me about us is true, don't

you think I would have marked you as mine if I could?" He glared at her in frustration, then shook his head and admitted, "'Course if I had, we probably wouldn't be standing here, 'cause you undoubtedly would have staked me on the spot."

She nodded in sheepish agreement; then went back to her main focus.

"Why did she tell me you bit her while you were mak-having sex?"

"I don't know. Why did she tell you any of this? I told her the other night that book was trash."

Buffy kept staring at him, her eyes demanding the truth and he finally turned away from those accusing orbs to mutter, "I made it good for her."

"What? What did you say?"

He turned back to her and, somewhat shamefaced, explained, "We – vampires – have different kinds of bites. It's possible to make a bite…pleasurable, if we take the time and effort. Not something I suspect most vamps bother with, but if you want to take the victim's mind off the pain—"

Buffy held her hand up for him to stop. "I get the picture. It's like when Dracula bit me, I didn't—"

The snarl that ripped from Spikes throat startled them both, with Buffy recovering faster. While Spike looked embarrassed and said apologetically, "I don't know where that came from." Buffy answered softly, "I do." She didn't try to hide the happiness in her eyes at his visceral reaction to the old vampire having bitten her in that way.

Spike sighed and began pacing the floor, his duster flaring out behind him. "Buffy, I admit that my body and even my demon – they seem to remember you. Us. And I…" He paused and looked back at her over his shoulder, "I'd like to explore that. To see where it goes. Whether I get my memories back or not, I think I could easily fall in love with you all over again."

The joy on her face brought an answering smile to his that he couldn't control.

Making Buffy happy appears to be one of those things that parts of me respond to.

Before she could say anything, he held up a hand and said quickly, "But the part of me that remembers nothing before last May, the man who doesn't remember you, he doesn't want to hurt the woman who has made his life peaceful and happy for the past six months.

"I know she's done a terrible thing. And I'm bloody brassed off about it. But she's done it because she loves me. Something I suspect I haven't seen a lot of in my one hundred and however many years on this planet."

He saw Buffy flinch at the reminder of how little affection she'd given him during the years they'd been together and he sighed again. She nodded again to let him know she understood him, but had to turn away and squeeze her eyes shut trying to shake the memories his words created.

"That wasn't meant to hurt you, love. I'm just trying to explain why I'm having such a hard time with this whole…situation. Not used to having women fight over me, yeah?"

"No," she sighed and walked closer to him, "I suppose not. And I really don't want to. Fight, that is. I can't fight her physically – she's human; and I'm not sure I know how to fight any other way. I know I never gave you what she has…I never made you happy, and we never had time for peacefulness. It was always one apocalypse after another."

She reached up and ran her hand down his face, cupping his cheek and forcing him to see the truth in her eyes.

"I can't promise you a peaceful life. It just doesn't come with the whole Slayer package. But I can promise you I would do my best to make you happy. Whatever it takes for as long as I'm given to do it."

She held his gaze, leaving her warm hand resting against the side of his face and willing him to see the truth in her eyes. They remained frozen, only inches apart until, with a shudder, Spike closed the distance between them and pulled her in against his body.

"Was getting a little bored with all that peacefulness anyway," he murmured as he captured her lips in a gentle kiss. Buffy slid her arms around his neck and melted against him, soaking up the sheer joy of feeling that cool, soft, talented mouth on hers. The kiss remained chaste and warm for several seconds, then Spike's tongue gently stroked her lower lip and she immediately responded by opening her mouth and sending her tongue out to meet it.

She stood still as he explored her open mouth, running his tongue over her gums and teeth, re-acquainting himself with what felt so familiar and yet so strange to him. Exploration soon turned to passion as the kiss deepened and Buffy was soon moaning in frustrated desire as the familiar body pressing against hers stirred the usual craving for more contact. She could feel his own hard response pressing into her stomach and she thrilled at the proof that his body still recognized her touch. She put everything she was feeling into the kiss, her lips and tongue continuing to caress his until she almost lost consciousness. If Spike hadn't broken the kiss when he sensed her dizziness, she would have passed out on the spot.

"Bloody hell, Buffy," he raised his head to gasp. "What you do to me… Want you so bad…"

"I'm right here," she whispered, wanting nothing more than to throw him onto the nearby bed, but forcing herself to wait for him to make the next move. Her whole body was trembling with the need to feel his skin next to hers, to feel his hard length inside her again. It took every ounce of her strength to force herself to stand still and let him take the next step.

If there's going to be a next step. Oh god, please let there be a next step! Let me have this – at least once. Let me feel him again.

When he lowered his head to attack her mouth again, she collapsed against him in relief, allowing his arms to take the weight her knees would no longer support. As soon as he felt her melt into him, Spike growled softly and swung her body into his arms. Without breaking the kiss, he strode to the bed and used his foot to kick the luggage off to one side. He followed Buffy down onto the bed, shoving the bags the rest of the way off with one hand while he buried the other in her long hair.

Freed of her fear that he was going to withdraw again, Buffy allowed herself to do all the things she'd been resisting since she first saw him. Her hands ran over his body frantically, as though trying to touch and remember every bulge of muscle, every sharp edge of bone at the same time. Spike's hiss when she ran her fingers up under his tee shirt to skate over the cool skin on his back encouraged her further and she ripped her mouth away to plant open-mouthed kisses all over his face and down his neck.

The heat coming off the woman under him was making Spike so hard he thought he was going to injure himself on the zipper of his jeans. The combination of soft, feminine curves and incredible strength was exciting him in a way Anne's slender gentleness never could. He pushed her shirt up, running his hand over the silky skin covering her ribs until he was stroking his thumbs across the curve of her breasts. When she mewed and arched up into his hand, he pushed the shirt completely over her head and used his teeth to rip the scrap of lace covering her breasts into two easily removed pieces.

He buried his face between her breasts briefly, inhaling her scent and accepting the familiarity of it without question. Buffy was tugging on his own tee shirt, trying to pull it over his head as she gasped, "Less smelling, more stripping."

With a willing grin, he sat up and pulled his shirt off, then reached down to untie his boots. He was shocked when Buffy slid off the bed and said softly, "Let me." She sat on the floor and quickly untied and removed his boots and socks. When they were gone, she knelt between his legs and fastened her mouth back on his while her hands worked to unfasten his jeans and begin pushing them down until his aching cock could spring free into her warm hands.

Never breaking contact with his mouth, she swallowed his groans as she began the firm stroking she knew he liked best. His own hands were busy unzipping her pants and trying to shove them over her hips without breaking any of the contact between them. Finally, with unspoken agreement, they broke apart and each stood to push pants to the floor and off.

Spike took a second to look at the vision before him, taking in the small but perfect breasts, the tiny waist and womanly curve of her hips before dropping his eyes to the neatly trimmed curls that already glistened with moisture. He dropped to his knees and pressed his face against the apex of her legs, once again inhaling the scent that went right to his cock and made it even harder.

Buffy's whimper when she felt his cool tongue searching through her folds only spurred him on and he grabbed the muscular globes of her ass to hold her up while he gently forced her legs apart so the he could reach the source of the nectar he was lapping up. Again, they found themselves in an awkward, uncomfortable position that neither was willing to change for fear of losing the contact. When Buffy grabbed the curls on his head to hold herself upright, Spike finally removed his mouth and pushed himself up and back onto the bed, pulling her with him.

The feel of her hot, soft skin against his own cool smoothness sent them both into a frantic attempt to be touching from head to toe. Spike's arms were puling her into his body with a grip that would have made most women cry out in pain. Buffy's response, however, was to fasten her mouth onto the soft skin of his throat and begin sucking there while she clenched his cock between her powerful thighs and pushed her hips into his.

Unable to wait any longer, Buffy tore her mouth away from the mark she'd made on his neck and pushed her upper body away so as to hover over him.

"I want you inside me, Spike. I need to feel you in me now."

Never taking her eyes off his, she slowly lowered herself, smiling as the heat of her passage caused his eyes to roll back in his head. Her own eyes closed as she lost herself in once again being filled by the man she loved. She settled down onto his hips as far as she could go. Tears poured down her face as she allowed herself to feel him and know that this time it was real and not one of the thousands of dreams that had haunted her for the past year and a half.

Spike couldn't deny the way his body rejoiced when it felt her surround him. It was at once the most amazing sensation he'd ever felt, and at the same time, incredibly familiar. Then Buffy began a rhythmic squeezing that soon had him gasping unnecessarily and thrusting up into her depths with every squeeze.

"Bloody hell, Slayer. I can't keep this up. You've got to stop doing that, love or I'm going to—" He interrupted himself to flip them over, continuing his thrusts from above as he murmured in her ear.

"I'm sorry, pet. Know you wanted to drive, but I want to make this special for you and I wasn't going to last with you bouncing on me like that. Want to make this good for you, Buffy."

As he whispered to her his desire to make her feel good, he was twisting his hips and hitting the little spongy mass of nerves that only he could find, sending her into a head thrashing, moaning and crying frenzy as she shook through an orgasm that came too soon. She was still shuddering from the effects of her first climax when he began thrusting harder, his muscular buttocks clenching as he drove into her. She met him thrust for thrust, her pelvis clashing against his hard enough to bruise both of them.

Buffy's arms and legs were wrapped around his body in a grip that he knew he couldn't have broken if he wanted to. She was murmuring his name over and over as he pounded against her, her voice rising as she felt the tension in her body building again. His guttural growls grew louder and closer together as he felt his own release approaching.

When Buffy sank her teeth into his shoulder with a muffled scream, his demon burst forward and suddenly the woman quivering under him was no longer a beautiful stranger.

"Buffy! Oh god, Buffy. Not a dream. Real. Buffy. My Buffy. My love. Mine."

He struggled to hold the demon back, but there was no stopping it. Needle sharp fangs slid into the soft skin on her throat and he shook all over with the force of his orgasm and the euphoria created by her blood flowing into his mouth.

The instant his fangs pierced her skin and he drew the first sip of blood, Buffy spiraled into another body shaking orgasm; waves of pleasure sweeping over her and without prompting she screamed, "Yours! Oh god, Spike. I'm yours."

He collapsed on top of her, both of them gasping for air and shuddering with the after affects of the experience. When he realized Buffy was having to breathe while his full weight lay on her chest, he reluctantly rolled off, whimpering at the loss of her warmth around him. He turned his head far enough to lick the wounds closed, then let it flop back onto the pillow.

He continued to take unnecessary breaths, staring at the ceiling while his demon receded and the memory of who Buffy was and what she meant to him faded somewhat. He grimaced as he realized what his demon had done, even as he accepted that in this case his body and the spirit that inhabited it knew better than he did the importance of this woman in his life.

"Not exactly complaining here," she gasped, "but what the hell was that?"