**BUFFY POV** - Specific

I'm on fire. Is this it? Is this how I'm finally going to die? It's painful enough … how did this happen? One minute, I'm sleeping in my warm yet uncomfortable excuse for a bed and the next it feels like burning waves are surrounding me. I can't even open my eyes because I know they'll be scorched if I do. When I tried to yell for help, my lungs felt like they were exploding in the heat. No one can hear me. No one can save me. Where is Xander? My girls? My boys? Are Spike and Angel alright? Ok, the air is cool enough now, I should try to open my eyes and look for them; look for a way out. Hey … is that … my mom? Am I already dead? What is she doing with that cloth cradled in her arms? Is she going to smother out this fire consuming my skin? Why is she smiling when I'm dying? Mommy? Are you here to help me stay or are you here to help me move on in death? And why do I hear the unmistakable shriek of metal slicing through the air …

The scream that ripped out from my mouth jolted me awake, my heartbeat pounding in my ears like a Tito Puente solo. I tried to get a hold of myself as a strange, unidentifiable feeling washed over me. Realization flooded through me the instant I sat straight up in the narrow bed. I had been dreaming. Fear and loathing in Las Vegas-style dreaming. I'd had thousands of bad dreams before, but a chilly finger of dread trailed down my spine with this one.

Damnit … it might have been a slayer dream. But it wasn't very elaborate like they usually are. So … weird. Well, weirder. Now I just have to figure it all out before something bad happens, as if I didn't already have enough on my plate.

"Kitten, you alright? What's got ya all a flutter?"

I turned my head and looked down upon the amazing view of a naked Spike pushing himself up on his elbow, scratchy blanket pooling around his waist. If it weren't for the fearful concern lacing his face, he would've looked like sin on a stick. Still a little rattled, I didn't say anything and just let him pull me back down to the canvas cot we were squeezed together on.

I'm still not sure why we can't sleep in my room ... my bed is bigger even though it's not very comfortable. But Angel assures me that it would be … more considerate towards Spike if we take his vamp senses into account. This way he doesn't have to smell any man in the room when we are together except himself. Over the past few days that we've been going along with this plan, I've seen how much better they've been treating each other so maybe he's right about this point … but sharing Spike's cot is just sleeping squeezed together for all the wrong and cramped reasons …

"I'm … I'm fine. Just a bad dream."

He gave me a look. Actually, he gave me The Look; the one I get anytime I mention having a bad dream to anyone. Anybody who has anything to do with slayers knows that a bad dream for us can be like the early warning rumbles before a volcano get's all hyperactive. It made me curse for a nanosecond that I wasn't sleeping alone; didn't need to add to anyone else's worries right now.

Ok, so yeah, still a little pissed that they discussed how things were going to go down with my life AGAIN without me. When they explained it, I felt a bit like a time-share condo. But honestly? Letting them figure this out it has stopped a lot of arguing and simmering animosity from clouding up the joint. Besides, I didn't really have any better suggestions. So far this seems to be working out for all of us. I get to finally spend some quality time with both of the loves of my life, they ignore this fact, and their relationship has been inching back towards the one that Lorne recently described for me.

"You wanna talk 'bout it?" he asked as he wrapped me tight in his arms and kissed the crown of my head.

"You really, really, a thousand times really don't want to hear about it. There were just some … upsetting details. But hey, at least you and Angel weren't making out again in this dream," I giggled.

"Never tell me. I don't want the explanation o' that one. Promise me," he grumbled.

"Maybe I don't want to promise you," I glared playfully at him, "Maybe, I want to whip that explanation out the next time you're mouthing off and are in dire need of a dose of shut-the-hell-up."

"I'll show you who's in need of shuttin' up 'round here!" he snarled and rolled on top of me, occupying my mouth with his.

Our macking session wasn't slow and sweet, but it wasn't our old hat super-aggressive tongue tangling either. There was just enough heat, just enough pressure, just enough comfort … in essence it was a perfect Goldilocks kiss. Just right. I felt my arms come up to wrap around his neck and I played with the soft hair on the back of his head as his hands brushed up my sides towards my chest. His lips quickly traveled down to meet up with them.

"Oh naughty … you know it's not your day," I laughed and sighed as his mouth closed around one of my achingly stiff nipples while his hand kept itself occupied with the other one.

"Sod that," he exclaimed softly as he lifted his lips just barely high enough from my skin to speak, "you're still in MY bed, yeah? Way I figure then, it's still my bloody turn."

With that he turned his attention back to my breasts, nearly bringing me over the edge with his skillful manipulations alone. When he sensed how close I really was, he smirked up at me before heading lower and voraciously going down on me. Quickly, my hands shot up over my head and grabbed the frame of the cot. I needed something to hold onto so that I wouldn't reach out and rip a chunk of Spikes hair like the last time he had done this for me a few days ago. As he worried my clit between his lips, my hips began pushing and lifting to grind against his face. Spike sniggered low in his throat at me without stopping what he was doing, sending a jolt along my sensitive nerves. He brought one hand around to press me back down to the canvas of the cot, while his other pushed two fingers inside of me. His thrusting hand brought me closer and closer to a seriously big orgasm, and I could tell with the insistence of his movements that he wanted to bring me to that point a few times this way first, but I was in dire need of something more substantial.

"Spike … oh, fuck … Spike I want …"

"What luv? What do you want?" he asked as I felt him smile against my skin, his hand unwavering in its endeavor.

"I want … I need …," I groaned as his tongue increased its pressure on just the right spot, "God Damnit Spike, you know what I'm asking for!"

"I've no idea what you're talkin' 'bout pet," he leered up at me as our eyes connected over the span of my torso, "if you want somethin' … specific … you're gonna have to use your big-girl words and tell me."

"You are … such a … bastard," I laughed and gasped at the same time, "fine, fine. I need you to stop teasing, I need you to crawl up here, I need you to kiss me till I can't breathe, and then I need you to fuck me till I pass out. That specific enough for you Spike?"

"Plenty," he growled as he crawled back up my body.

With one strong push he was abruptly fully seated within me and we both gasped in time. I let Spike set a pace that worked with us on this crappy little cot, but it felt different. By now we'd had a sweet, almost tearful reunion type of lovemaking. We'd had a night of possessive, aggressive need that would have been a scary reminiscing of our bad days if we both hadn't seen the love pouring out of each other's eyes. But this was different.

It's almost … playful? He keeps pushing me and prodding me, but then slows down just when I'm on the verge. Using too much pressure to be romantic, but too little pressure to be urgent. And his eyes … he's smiling at me … teasing me … this is like the physical embodiment of our banter … OH HOLY ….

Almost as if he could see me thinking, and got offended that I had any brain capacity to do so at the moment, Spike frantically pounded into me. Every inch of us just became more and more entangled with each other as he slipped in and out of me. Unable to catch my breath and continue trying to swallow his tongue as if we were competing in the world's sexiest seizure contest, I turned my head away and groaned as he began nipping my ear and down my neck. Unconsciously I felt myself begin to lean my head back, giving him better access to the column of my neck.

What am I doing? Seriously? Because I know that even in my darkest, near-suicide girl moment I never even hinted to him that I'd let him dig in. Do I want him to bite? It hurt in a good damn way when I forced Angel to do it … to this day still haven't had a Big O bigger than that one … and there was no penetration … wonder what it'd be like during sex?

Once again acting as if he was psychic, Spike purposely turned his eyes to mine. There was the fuzzy, glazed over look of amazing sex present there but also something else. He looked at me like I was suddenly the teaser instead of the teasee. He looked at me as if he was confused. He looked at me as if I was a cold mug of beer on a hot day and he was a recovering alcoholic.

Would it be wrong to ask him to bite? Once again I was just thinking only about my side of things but it might be bad for him to backtrack like that. What if I hurt his feelings somehow if I ask? I don't want him to think that's all I see when I look at him … he's more than just fists, fucking, and fangs. God Damnit! Why do vamps and slayers both have a bite-y, neck-y fetish? I know for a fact it's not just me. Unfortunately, Faith is an over-sharer.

"Do you want …," I started to ask breathily, but he quickly cut me off with a deep kiss.

"Luv … Buffy … no. I mean I want, obviously that never goes away. And this," he moaned as his lips ghosted over my vein, "this is somethin' that used to keep me up for days at a time. You, us, me being buried in you in more ways than one … but I don't know if I could handle …"

"It's ok … I just thought I'd ask. Give you the option, because I am," I whispered as I bit the shell of his ear, "more than ok with it. So maybe someday? But not today, right?"

He mouthed a silent 'Thank you' before fusing his lips to mine again. The pace our hips picked up would have been crushing for normal humans, but for us it was just bringing us to the grand finale`. In my desperate need for leverage, I once again wrapped my hands around the metal pipe frame of our cot. Tightening my grip I pushed up one last time before I felt the overwhelming surge of pleasure rush through me the same time he shuddered his release. Before I even had time to draw breath, we found ourselves crashing to the floor.

"What the fuck!" I yelled in pain as my head cracked on the hard linoleum floor and Spike toppled on top of me. Looking up quickly I noticed that where my hands had been on the cot frame, I had apparently crushed the hollow tubes. The weakened state of the frame couldn't handle our over-zealous efforts and fell apart around us.

Well, apparently I was a little too hard on this crappy thing and now it's dead. Now what are we going to do for a bed in here?

Spike looked up towards the wrecked bed frame quickly before darting his eyes back to mine. After running his hand under my skull to check and make sure I was ok, we both burst out laughing. We were cut off though when we heard pound feet running towards our door, and Spike managed to toss a blanket over me just in time.

"Buffy! Spike!" Angel yelled as he burst through the door.

"Oh balls, piss off ya dolt! We just fell … not fightin' in here. Though I'm sure you've never heard her make those sounds before so it's understandable you'd be confused. There's no emergency so just …," Spike groused before Angel interrupted him.

"No you jackass, there is an emergency. Something's wrong at the Hyperion."