Warm
By Sweetprincipale
California has a cold snap and it's freezing in Spike's crypt. Buffy has a fever and she's burning up- not to mention that she's a little bit delirious. But just because you're loopy doesn't mean you're wrong. Maybe if you rub a frozen vampire against a boiling Slayer, both of them will get warm in more ways than one. Takes place amid a Slightly AU Season Five, Joyce is out of hospital and doing fine, Glory's lurking, and Harmony and Riley are already gone. Short, smutty, and funny, I hope you enjoy!
Dedicated to: Brokenblackrose89, Mistress of Dragons, Pentastic, PGoodrichBoggs, Ardynn, Battered Child, Kayana M, and David Fishwick. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing.
Part IV
Buffy's eyes fluttered shut as she felt him slipping on top of her. Not inside, not yet, but soon. "You want this, Slayer?" His voice was a distraction in the blissful break from the heat.
"Mmm," her voice was a moan, her hips insistently moving with his.
"Look at me?" Spike knew he was ruining the moment. All the moments were already tainted by the past, he just wanted to make something good, something new- and he couldn't let go.
Green eyes looked up at him, not shy, not seductive, simply steady. "You're hard to miss. You're all I want to look at. I could look at you for days…" Buffy ran her hands possessively over the body on top of hers. Long, lean, white muscles, twists of spine, angles and planes of shoulders and jaw, tight legs, tight arms, holding himself above her.
I said I was above him. Now he's above me. I looked down on him, all hard and mean and "You're beneath me." I would never, I said. It would never be him. And now… oops.
Double oops. He was talking to her, looking at her with such concern, stroking back her damp hair and kissing her flushed forehead gently, peering into her eyes.
"Huh?"
"I said 'I know all the things we said, but this is the last exit, Baby.' You do this, and you're not going back. Do you wanna get off this ride? Go back?" Back to a place where you hate me and I love you, but that's better than both of us hating both of us, which is what's likely to happen, cute truces and signed papers or not.
"No. I wanna go forward. New place. Away from all the bad and the fire and the hell. Take me someplace new. Vacation time."
"I like the tropics," he admitted. "The sun is in your smile, the heat you give me, Luv…"
"I grew up in California. I wouldn't mind going some place cooler. I liked the ice. I liked to skate. Like it cool. Ice cream on hot days. And… popsicles. I like popsicles." Her fingers trailed down his back and moved around to the front, eyes blurry as she looked at the sparse dark hairs at the base of his torso and the thick white length now in her fist. "Let's go."
Maybe that's as romantic as it gets when you're former sworn enemies and currently skating about on the portal to Hell. "Let's go."
She guided him in as he pushed past her palm. She breathed out and he breathed in, lips brushing, then sticking, staying, bodies uniting.
"Fuck, Buffy, sweet bloody h hhhhh…" Spike gasped and couldn't find words to match the sensations as he felt himself breach this sweet little fortress. He shook the way you do after being out in a blizzard and suddenly finding yourself in front of a roaring fire. "Fuck, Slayer, burn me up you will." Tightest, warmest paradise, and when the girl said, "Let's go" well, she bloody well meant it. No build up with this one. She was starving, no, burning, and he could put the fire out. Her legs went up over his, back arched, breasts pushed up and they writhed together, bodies making sense when sick and scarred minds could not. "My girl is on fire…"
"Spike," she moaned, head thrashing pleasurably. "Not gonna burn you, because you're too cold. Oh, so perfectly cold, yes, cold!" Cold and thick, thick cock pushing apart dripping hot walls. No one had ever filled her this way, or connected with her like this. It was snug and a little painful for a second, but the escape from the fever was so instantaneous that it paled and disappeared in seconds. When she said "Let's go" she meant it. This was going into battle, fighting something inside her, maybe something she'd been wanting as well. No tentative, no slow. Spike charges in with me. He always has, against or for, he knows how to fight. He knows how to love, too. Gives it everything he's got.
I like everything he's got, and I'm pretty sure every inch is inside me. Yes. Want Spike. Want this Spike, the Spike I can see now. My vision is a little blurry, but a lot of stuff is clearer. She pulled back from the hungry kisses she was exchanging with him to inform him in a happy babble, punctuated with little nibbles to his jaw, "I want this. I told you I did and I was right. You'll just melt and then you'll melt in me and it'll be awesome." Buffy let out a raspy, ragged sound that was part of relief and part pleasure. "You get what you want, I get what I want. We are very… what's that word when things go together?"
"Complementary?" he shifted inside of her but didn't get far. He didn't complain about the fact that she clung to him as if she'd been painted on. Dru's hands had often had the grip of madness. This was the grip of certainty. He regarded her, nose to nose, sure this revelation would be shared.
And what did his girl say?
"That's a good word, but not what I wanted. I know. Twinsies. And we both dye our hair."
He jerked his head back. "Slayer!"
"What?"
"Well… I was gonna… I didn't expect you to say that just then," he concluded lamely, reminding himself that sick brains can feign certainty very convincingly.
"Oh. Sad now?" Buffy pressed her hands with their swollen skin to his cheeks, steadying his head above hers.
"Not sad, Pet," he lied.
She bit his lower lip smartly, drawing blood, kissing it off while still looking into his eyes. Down below, Spike's cock jumped hard and hit a nerve cluster that previous suitors had failed to locate. Mental note- Spike likes bites. Duh. Vampire.
"Mm, Slayer… Can we play?" If he was lying, might as well do the whole bit, smug bastard- but sensitively smug bastard.
"We can play. But no more lying. You lied to me. You were sad. I thought you wanted me."
"I do! So much. But I know it's not for the same reason. You want to feel the cold, and I want to feel the burn- this kind." He placed her hand over his chest, above his stilled heart.
"I want you. I want this Spike. Not beneath. Not above. Well- 'sex above' is okay…" She twined her fingers through his hair and slid the other one down his chest, over stiff, small nipples, making him moan.
"Want me?"
"Mhmm. By my side. Battle with. Not against." Words were brief by necessity. Air was escaping, sweat pooling.
"I will. With, not against." He wasted no time in sealing the promise with a kiss, but quickly broke the contact. His girl was shivering. Shaking. Convulsing? "Slayer?" Is this how Slayers cum? I mean, she'd probably send me into a full-blown seizure, way she's wrapping her tight little slit around me, pumping me, rolling under me, those hips… He grunted out a sound of pleasure.
"Don't stop." Heat was draining out of her. Color, too, skin no longer the burnt peach, fading to a deeper-than-normal golden tan.
"I think we need to stop. Not sure this is normal."
"Nothing is normal here, nothing is normal today. But I feel better. Lucid. Happy. Oh, fuck, yes… very happy," Buffy groaned as he resumed moving inside of her. "Also- what the hell is wrong with you?"
"I'll bite you in a minute!" he snarled against her shoulder, eyes burning into hers from the side, irritation on the lips that had just been kissing her.
She took his threat complacently. "Can't. Cooties."
"There is nothin' wrong with me, other than you." She screwed him up, and this town screwed him up and over, this town he kept returning to, for her. He rutted in her vigorously, as if heaping his frustrations upon her- and just like their wonky truces, found out she was giving just as good as she got.
"Vampires take. Don't care who they hurt. Do you like this?" Buffy asked breathlessly, squirming under him, letting her hips do all the work for a minute, loving the look of utter bliss on his face as her pussy milked him.
"I'm not an effing statue, of course I like it," he hissed.
"So, there's something wrong with you." Buffy slowed. "You care."
"I know that bit! Thought you did, too."
"You care if I'm okay, even if you like what you're getting out of it."
"Slayer, you know all this- you just wouldn't let yourself b'lieve it," he gave up with a dark chuckle.
"Yeah… but sometimes I need to see something a couple times before I get it. Like math problems."
"I'm a sodding math problem now?"
"Spike cold, Buffy hot, equals warm, remember?" she laughed lightly.
"You're still shaking."
"I think I'm getting back to the right temperature."
"Your sentences make more sense."
"Good. But, still- can we shut up now?" Distracting vampire. Considerate vampire. Spike. Spike is… Spike. No more calling him "vampire." Not just vampire, anyway.
"That seems to be impossible," he quipped. "Never managed to shut you up for long." Unless she was knocked out- an' that can't happen again, not if I can help it.
"Hmmm. I think I have a plan. Leave you speechless. And my mouth will be full."
"Even when you're delirious, you're bloody brilliant," Spike whimpered. That was the last thing he said for several minutes.
Buffy made a muffled noise of agreement. Her pussy missed the attention of his hardness, but her mouth was delighted with her treat. He lay on his back, she sat astride his chest, head bending low to suck and slide him in deeper and deeper into her mouth.
He seemed to realize this. Poor thing was hurting in different places, trying to relieve all her pain at once. Happy to help, he smirked as poked her perfectly round cheeks and made her raise her hips automatically. Two thrusting fingers entered her, moaning as tight walls instantly grasped his fingers. "You're a marvel. Hottest, tightest little tunnel. Could come in you and never leave."
"Supposed to shush," Buffy gasped, lifting her lips off of him. "Also- you didn't cum yet. I'm working on it. You're not helping."
"Don't need help to do that, Pet, need help delaying it." Spike twitched in her fist and let out a startled cry as she did a 360 degree turn on him, hips now above his knees, eyes boring into his as she slid her mouth down his length again.
"Who said you have to delay?"
In case it's over after this, he thought, but didn't say. "Got a reputation. Stamina, strength, all that."
Buffy's eyes shifted, something sad and wary in their depths for a split second.
He still caught it, always fast when it came to watching her every move. Her reputation isn't about that when it comes ot sex. What'd she say? You'll hurt me later. Tell me I was a slut. That I wasn't good. That I don't know how to make a real man happy, or a real demon. "You could have me gone in seconds, Slayer. Buffy. Just looking at you… when you look at me while we're…" he groped for the proper term, hot but not crude.
Buffy didn't seem to care about blunt. "When your cock is in my mouth? Or other places?"
"Yeah," he gasped out. "When you look at me…" I can pretend you love me. I can tell you want me, that's a start.
"Why didn't you say so? I could look at you forever. Didn't I already say that? You're all I want to look at. I could look at you for days? I thought I said it out loud."
"You did, Luv."
Then I'll look. We'll watch. Showtime.
She bobbed on him expertly, never moving her eyes from his, barely blinking. He kept losing the battle to keep his eyelids open as tidal waves of pleasure engulfed him, her warm, wet mouth sucking him from root to tip and then back down, fist at his base, squeezing him tight. His head would tilt back with the moans she dragged from him, but each time he lifted his head, her eyes were still there, attached to his gaze.
God, he's so pretty. My snowman. Snow vampire. All cool skin and white ripples, then this little patch of shadow. She ran her fingers through the crisp, dark hair, then dragged her nails slowly down one thigh, still watching him tremble and twitch, moan her name.
"Slayer… Fuck, Slayer…"
"Buffy. Say Buffy for now," she told him without further explanation.
Buffy is real. Buffy was there first, before the Slayer. "My Buffy's so good at this. So good to me," Spike purred as her tongue lapped his slit and pre-cum slipped from him.
"Mmm. Sweet." She dragged her tongue slowly from the bottom of his tip to the top, lips locking around it at the end, hand tightening around his shaft and pumping.
"Gonna cum for you, Sweetheart. In your pretty little mouth," he spoke in short, harsh bursts. "Or your pussy. Where?"
She spoke between bobbing her head against him, loving the feel of his hands kneading her scalp, tenderly lifting hair back and off her flushed skin."Here first." Her throat felt better. All of her felt better after being around him. Another lift of her head, "I haven't done that before."
"What?" There was no way in hell she hadn't done this. No one is that gifted.
"Mouth. I mean, it was like getting ready. Not finishing. Down there was the main event." She shrugged. "But I'm doing good. I can tell."
"That's right. You're fucking amazing- at- this," he had to take short catch-breaths as she resumed her antics on his about-to-burst cock, "and don't you forget it. Don't let anyone- ever - oh, fuck, tell you different. Fuck!"
"This is sort of fucking," she sliped off of him and back down with a wink.
"I love you," he said it with a smile and without the usual deep twinge of anger and pain that accompanied the word. Playing with me. With her. Wanting each other.
Is it wrong to love someone so much you wish they'd never get hurt, never get sick- and find them so much more agreeable when they're ill? Maybe when she gets better, this soddin' fever will have burnt all the bitch out of her.
She kept her mouth on him, eyes up and dark with sudden desire, not the poison in her system. She knew she was entrancing him. Owning him. Even sick… I'm powerful. Bring the vampire to his knees-
Spike hissed and his hands tightened, one grasping hers as it dug into his thigh, one on her neck where it met the shoulder.
Although I won't be using this method to incapacitate others. Man, my vocabulary is on point when I'm sick. Or is it just around Spike? He's actually… really good with words. Good with a lot of things. Spike… is good?
Her gasp of surprise coincided with something spasming down his spine. He suddenly roared out a loud, reverberating sound that died off with a groan.
She was finally rewarded. It is cold- not ice cold. Cool water cold. Slightly bitter but- hmm. I like. I could like. But it takes a lot of work to get- so-
Spike winced pleasurably as she kept swallowing around him, her mouth milking him as he emptied. The heat and the tightness, Slayer strength and the passion innate in her- it was the best he'd ever experienced, and he'd experienced plenty.
"That's better. Ohhh. That's like- good. It's kind of thick. But not too thick. It coats nicely." Buffy licked her lips thoughtfully as she sat on her haunches, pink toes neatly curled and tucked under her wiggling bottom.
He was panting and dizzy. And she was talking about his cum like she was trying to decide on the merits of oil paints versus water colors. "Glad you approve," he laughed softly. "You can have all you want, Sl- Buffy."
"It was a lot of work, though. But… that did mean more cold-Spike parts in my throat. Which is down from boiling over to simmering."
"Mhm. Well, let's see if we can get you down to a still water, Luv. The kind," he pulled her up and went for it, swooping her up and holding her close, lips to her ear as he shuffled her back underneath him, ready to worship her, "that runs deep."
Spike deep inside. Deeeeeeep. He has such good moves and techniques. It's annoying when fighting, but awesome for sex. "Yes, please. Maybe we-"
Her suggestion was cut off by the sharp, unwelcome jangle of the phone.
"Damn." Buffy swore without any vigor and grabbed it. "I'm naked but I'm in the house, are you happy?"
"Bloody hell, you better hope that's your Watcher and not some pervy old- wait…" Spike smirked and ducked an elbow.
"You're naked? Where is Spike? I thought you told me Spike was-"
"He's naked, too, it's totally fine."
"Buffy!" Giles yelped.
"SLAYER!" Spike roared and grabbed the phone. "Look, Watcher, don't you dare think I did a damn thing to her. She was burning up and kept taking off things and she kept telling me I had to take things off, too and…" He stopped. This didn't sound plausible. At all. Even if it were true.
"When Iget over there-" Giles' voice was a growl so low that Buffy turned to see what had suddenly caused the heating to malfunction.
"You can't hurt Spike. He's bringing my fever down. It's the only thing that works. I tried cold water and ice and everything. You know how when people have to put their bodies together not to freeze to death?"
"Buffy, Spike can't freeze to death!"
"No, but he's half-frozen and I'm half-burnt. We were perfect together. Are. Are perfect together. We make everything just right."
She was only talking about the temperature, but it made him purr with joy for a minute, pretending she meant everything else. "I didn't hurt her. Can't. An' she was wandering around half-starkers anyway. At least here she's got privacy. I'll try to shuffle her into a bathrobe and slippers before you come 'round, all right, Rupes? Will that protect your saintly eyes?"
Giles paused. He heard the martyred exasperation in Spike's voice. He knew that tone. He'd had it often when he first met Buffy, the Buffy who refused to listen, to take him seriously, who constantly got into danger and he had to swallow his heart on a nightly basis as it lodged into his throat. Spike's at his wit's end with her, too.
"He didn't do bad things. I promise. He's my helper. And he's cool. And he won't melt. Giles, all the ice melts." Her voice took on a whiny twinge, and then moved to outright pitiful, "I'm out of frozen bananas-"
Spike interceded, "Pet, don't. You'll give him a heart attack."
"Not for that! I have you for that. I want a smoothie now. Giles, pretty please with crossbows on top? Can you bring me some?"
"Well, er- no. I can't. That's one reason why I called. Buffy, have you listened to the news?"
"Um. No. It's usually pretty inaccurate in Sunnydale."
"In this one aspect they're correct. There is a state of emergency in Sunnydale. The roads are inexplicably sheets of ice. The windchill is below freezing and still dropping. People are being told to stay put. There are accidents everywhere-"
"We saw a bunch right around my house."
"-and people who are trying to walk from their wrecked cars to the nearest shelter have to be taken to the hospital for hypothermia and exposure- "
"I thought that was only in cold water." Buffy walked to the window. An ambulance was parked crookedly in the intersection. No one was in it. Her stomach twisted. People need my help. I need to get better, I have to help.
"What? No, any extreme cold for prolonged time can lower body temperature. Buffy, listen. The phone lines are mercifully still up and the power is holding. The governor says to shelter in place, stay off the roads at all costs. The National Guard is sending in tanks that are supposed to be able to handle ice and steep inclines. If Spike tries anything-"
"I won't!"
"He won't."
"Well, if he does- subdue him. I will find a way over there if needed."
"Not needed. You need to do the whole thing with the books and the magic and stuff to figure out how the frozen hellmouth and my burning up are linked, because I think they are."
"To that end, I have been researching and the Council actually made some valuable suggestions on where to look- for once. I think- well, I'd rather tell you in person. I also think that despite your reassurances, I prefer not to leave you alone with a nude, albeit chipped, vampire."
"It's Spike. He looks awesome nude. I mean, if it was that stinky guy who stabbed me a while ago, with the 80s hair and leather vest- oh, gag. I'm already sick enough, Giles! Why did you bring that up?"
Behind her, Spike chuckled in a self-satisfied way at her praise and the Watcher's stuttering protests.
Shaking her head to clear horrific images, Buffy continued in her blunt, illness-induced way that Spike was becoming very fond of. "Anyway, how the heck are you going to get here? You can't drive. Are you commandeering a tank?"
"I think he might. Ruthless, for a librarian," Spike muttered, running his hands lightly over her back. Wherever his cool fingers touched, her skin lightened for a minute, but as he trailed down, it reverted to a dark, burnt pink.
"I'll walk."
"You'd have to ice skate. I could lend you mine- but they so wouldn't fit. And you'd have to get here first, so…"
"I will find a way."
"Look, mate, you'll freeze to death. That'll kill her. You don't want her to die of grief, do you?" Spike interrupted, equally blunt. "I swear on a stack of whatever you want that I won't lay an unwholesome hand on her, won't do a thing she doesn't specifically request, and b'lieve me, I'm too cold to relish the idea of standing around in the altogether. As soon as she tells me I can cover up, I'm coverin' up."
The suspicion was palpable in Giles' sharp retort, "You seem oddly agreeable to all of this. Why aren't you-"
"You try arguing with a sick Slayer who's half-out of her mind- but still brilliant- who can kill you with a careless flick of the wrist," Spike hissed, tossing in the addendum for Buffy's benefit.
Buffy looked wounded and leaned on him, chin pointing up, eyes like a sad hound. "I promised not to kill you. Don't you believe me?"
"Oh, I do, Pet. I swear it. Here, give me the pen, I'll write it down."
Giles shook his baffled head and then continued, "Walking would likely be foolhardy at this point. I've talked to your mother. All of them are safe. Traffic isn't allowed back into Sunnydale so all four of them are remaining at the hotel until the news says otherwise. When I called, I spoke to Willow and Tara as well, about the idea of Hell freezing over. Willow was able to pull something up on the accursed box-"
"What box?"
"He means the laptop," Buffy shushed Spike, hand to his lips, moaning softly when his tongue slipped over her sore fingertips.
"It's amazing what sacred texts have made their way to the internet. Listen to this, 'Should the fires of Hell be pooled into her chalice, she shall burn the gates and doors, she shall open the 9th Gate and see her way clear. What shall be left is winter's desolation, consuming all with the ice that burns as sharp as fire."
Buffy tilted her head. "We don't have a gate."
"The 9th Gate is a reference to the gates of Hell. Glory wants to open a doorway to her hellish dimension. She can't find the Key. She is trying a ritual to 'burn' the gates and doors. One that is locked, apparently."
"So… she takes the fires of the Hellmouth?" Spike pieced together. "And puts them in a chalice. Is that metaphysical or literal?"
"That was my bit of research," Giles preened slightly. "It's both. I found reference to a Chalice of Brimstone. It says it can be wielded by great evil, a servant of the most low, the kings of the lower depths. I'm guessing queens and goddesses would be in that group as well."
"Sexist," Buffy muttered, now nibbling on Spike's wrist in turn.
"Erhm. Yes. Archaic. Anyway, the 'Chalice of Brimstone must be filled with the blood of an innocent taken at the gates'- someone was likely killed over the Hellmouth in the ruins of Sunnydale High. 'The fire shall pool and in its place the frost will creep, three days shall it wax until it reach its full."
"What the hell? Who waxes for three days straight? That is one majorly hairy piece of glassware."
"Slayer- it means it shall grow. That tracks. Started getting dark and cold three days ago, and it's only getting colder."
"The blood of the greatest evil shall be put into the greatest good, filled with the pain of fire. The blood of the mighty be taken and consumed. Once burned through, the Chalice shall be drunk."
There was silence. "Slayer?"
"Me? The blood of the greatest evil-"
"Glory's blood. She is worse than an evil demon, she's an evil goddess. Perhaps her minions' blood. Somehow they are connected. They spilled your blood and took it. They infected you with theirs, with hers, with whatever links you to this spell."
"I'm burning up? Like, I could actually go up in flames?" her voice shrank.
Silence again.
Spike's voice was blunt. "You wouldn't sound this calm if there weren't some loophole, something she could do. What is it?"
"Ah, yes. This part. I don't know entirely what it means, but I have ideas. 'Should the Chalice be drunk before blood burned away, should it be drunk as blood be cooled, destruction shall come upon the drinker and all his endeavors."
"So, if Glory drinks before I'm dead- and she figures I'm going to be dead oh… right about now- she'll die? Be destroyed, and her endeavors, too?"
"Yes. But say that she waits, if you're cured, presumably the blood of yours will reflect that- somehow tied to your life force, knowing you are 'burnt out' or not. Should she drink that 'cooled' blood, that will undo her as well."
"I'm cooler when Spike touches me. He helped my -"
"Shhh!" Spike gave her a frantic shake of his head.
"My temperature go down some." Buffy rolled her eyes. Like she would tell Giles about nummy intimate Spike-pops. Then Giles would think about her having sex, then she might have to think about Giles and sex and she would pass out. "But it goes back up when he's not holding me."
"Holding you?"
"He was almost frozen to death. He had black lines under his skin."
"Frozen blood," Spike supplies, shuddering at the memory. "I'm a bit warmed up now, although nowhere near a normal human temperature. Not even approaching room temp at the moment."
"Which is wonderful…" Buffy sighed and shimmied all over him, rubbing belly and breasts against him in a sinuous arc that would have been seductive -if she weren't simultaneously holding the phone and trying to look out the ice-coated window at the same time.
"Did you say frozen blood?" Giles voice was halting and soft, as if afraid to be hopeful.
"Yes, and it hurts like a bitch. Think you'll never be properly warm again, that you'll die like that, freezing inside, pins and needles jabbing through every vein- and you know it won't even end for you, you'll just keep suffering."
Buffy turned to him with full attention this time. This time, her body came against him with purpose, to heal him, heat him. Her arms twined around his neck and there was something warm in her eyes as they held his.
Loving? Is that a loving gaze? Spike returned it, slowly letting his hand come up to join hers on the phone, heads meeting, lips brushing-
"Listen to this!" Giles' sudden burst of exuberance made them spring back- at least for the moment. "To quell the mighty one, the embodiment of good whose blood has been spilled-"
"Where did these spell-dudes go to school?" Buffy whined. "Where's the Cliff Notes version!? Where's the summary?"
"Shhh! - Let him imbibe the blood of the beings who are spawned in the lower depths, frozen in the Chalice's desolation."
"Say what?" Spike demanded.
"What?" Buffy parroted.
"One of those spawned in the lower depths- a demon! She must imbibe- drink, the blood of a demon who has suffered from the desolation. The freak ice storm!" Giles did a little dance in front of his bookshelves, twirling in his Oxfords, hands flinging about in triumph because no one was there to mock him.
"Can you stop dancin' about and clarify a few things?" Spike drawled.
So much for a lack of mocking. "I can do my best."
"How am I supposed to get frozen blood of a demon?"
Spike spoke patiently, "Slayer. He means me."
"I know that!" Buffy sort of knew that. She had stopped thinking of Spike as a demon in the last hour or two and started thinking of him as simply Spike, her partner in solving problems and adjusting body temperature. "I just meant- uh- he's not frozen anymore. And blood-drinking? Ew, no. Tried it with Dracula at the end of the summer and it sucked. Ha. That's funny."
"Yes, Luv, you're a laugh riot. It's no problem for me to get good and frozen again." All right. Painful, but it was worth the pain to heal her. To save people. Okay, mainly to heal her.
"But it hurts you. And frozen blood? Does it- even flow? Can you bleed?"
"We'll find out."
"That's going to hurt you." Buffy shook her head, frowning.
"That doesn't matter. You could get better. You could clear off Hellbitch. That matters."
"Spike is right. Oh, Lord, that's unpleasant on the tongue," Giles smacked his lips and winced heartily, "but he is correct. While the pain is temporary, the results are worth it."
I don't want to hurt someone I like. He took a long time to get warm. Why do I have to hurt him? I promised him I wouldn't hurt him. It's in writing! "How am I supposed to-"
"I'll handle things," Spike said firmly. Why's she so worked up? A nick with a knife? A bite if I can get one. A bit of a sting, and the throbbing afterward, pulses that race under your skin, make you pound like you're still alive. Mm. All part of the joys of being a vampire.
She nodded mutely, eyes glossy in a whole new way.
"Oh, Pet. C'mere. Fix those sad eyes."
"I promised I wouldn't hurt you."
"I promised not to hurt you, either. I keep the promises I make, Buffy. It's for you. It won't hurt a bit."
When she smiled at him, eyes gleaming and glowing with something like… hope, hope in trusting someone again. "Promise?"
"I promise, Baby. I promise." He wrapped his arms around her as hers locked around him.
The phone clunked to the floor and they ignored the soft, distant voice on the other end as it murmured, "Call me back soon. I'll… I'll give you some privacy…"
To be continued…
Thank you again to all the awesome readers! If you like erotica, I recently wrote a new short erotica piece, Vampire in Vegas by S.C. Principale. It's still sweet, but it goes into more smutty territory than I usually do here. I'd love it if you guys give it a try! (Free on Amazon Kindle Unlimited, cheap otherwise. Many thanks if you read it!)
