Chapter 9-

Chapter 9-The Abyss

"Buffy!" Willow cried, jumping to her feet and rushing to her fallen friend's side.

Xander continued to stare in disbelief, unable to tear his eyes away from Buffy as he spoke. "What the hell happened in there, Spike?"

Spike knelt down opposite Willow and took Buffy's hand in his. Xander's question barely registered as not coming from his own thoughts, drowned out from torrent of emotions he was battling in his mind. He'd failed her…again. Bitterness and self-loathing rose like bile in his throat.

"HEY!" Xander yelled angrily as he moved to shove Spike's shoulder. "Did you hear me?! What happened?!"

"Xander, don't…" Willow warned, sensing the rage that was threatening to explode from the tortured vampire.

Spike lowered his head and glared at the ground, his body tense, ready to strike, as he tightly held back his fury. "Get. Away. From. Me."

Recognizing the acidic tone in Spike's voice, Xander took a step backwards. He knew firsthand that a headache wasn't enough to stop the 'Chipped Wonder' he had a mind to inflict pain.

"Sorry, man. I…" Xander began to apologize hesitantly.

"Guys? What's taking so long? They're going to wake up…" Tara called out as she came up the stairs, before seeing Buffy passed out on the floor. "Oh."

Willow gasped, "Oh! The Wright's! I forgot about them, completely! I'll go make 'em dusty again."

"No," Spike spat out, regaining some of his composure. "Little Frick and Fracka aren't carrying about an extra set of bones anymore and the Slayer…we need to get her out of here."

"Wh-what?" Buffy stammered as she came around. "What about me?" She asked, looking at her friends' worried faces. Buffy sat up and realized Spike was holding her hand, then she remembered the blinding light that shot through the door. "Oh, God! It's in me, isn't it?"

Spike gave her a pained frown and let go of her hand. "I'm sorry, love. The bloody thing got away…went right through the door into the nearest warm-blooded person it could find…which happened to be you."

"You guys, the sleeping powder is gonna wear off soon, so we need to get back down there with Karen and figure out…about Buffy," Willow urgently reminded everyone.

"I'm okay…I mean, not okay, but we can worry about me after we're done here." Buffy said as she rose to her feet and brushed herself off.

"Okay!" Xander exclaimed a bit too enthusiastically. "I got the girl, Tara's got the balm."

"Right! Balm," Tara repeated, snapping her out of the dazed look on her face.

Xander and Tara quickly moved to the bedroom to take care of Karen and Willow, Buffy and Spike headed back downstairs.

Anya poked her head out the door of the study. "Where's Xander? What's going on? I think they're waking up."

Xander came zooming around the corner carrying Karen and raced into the study. "Go!" he whispered urgently to Anya as he replaced the girl on her father's lap. Anya quickly joined the others as they were grabbing their coats and heading for the door. The frantic phony photographer jumped back behind his camera just as the family awoke and then he took their picture.

"Great! That was perfect! Excellent! Well, all done here…really gotta run. Thanks. Bye!" Xander rambled as he hurriedly gathered up his equipment and made his exit, leaving the entire Wright family in a cloud of confusion.

Anya was holding Xander's coat and waiting by the front door when he came running out of the study.

"Gogogogogogogo!" Xander drummed out, grabbing his bride-to-be's arm and pulling her with him as he closed the door. The couple made a mad dash for Xander's car and scrambled inside, throwing the camera and tripod in the backseat.

"Ouch!" Buffy complained from the backseat, rubbing her forehead where the camera had hit her.

Xander turned around blinking with surprise. "Buffy! I am so sorry. I'm the definition of sorry."

"I'll live."

"I didn't know you were back there, Buff. Uh, so why are you back there?"

Anya tapped him on his shoulder and pointed at the Wright's house. "Front door! Opening front door. Drive! Drive!"

The already frazzled young man turned the key nervously in the ignition and drove off as fast as his tin can would allow. Still, it made a nice screeching noise as he pulled out, giving the illusion of a speedy get away. Xander relaxed, smiling when he realized that no one was chasing them, and that they had gotten away with their ruse. Then he remembered Buffy, and his expression grew troubled. He looked at her through his rearview mirror and saw her gazing impassively out the passenger window. Being Buffy's jovial friend wasn't easy in times like this; times when he had no help to offer, no funny lines to take the edge off. Anya seemed bored already; she wasn't even aware of what had happened to Buffy.

Deciding he should bring his future wife up on the latest development, he leaned towards her and quietly spoke. "The Geminus demon got away from Spike and went through the door and jumped into Buffy."

"Oh." Anya nodded, processing the ramifications. "So Spike has to bite Buffy now. He must be so pleased."

Xander winced and Buffy pulled her eyes away from the window. No one had actually spoken the words out loud, but they had all thought it.

"What?" Anya asked innocently off of Xander's irritated look.

"Ex-nay on the bite-age-ay, An-yay."

Buffy rolled her eyes, "Enough with the really bad Pig-Latin code, Xander. It's okay."

"You're okay with being bitten by Spike?" he asked, disbelieving.

"It's better than turning to goo, but no…not exactly doing handstands over it."

Xander nodded his understanding, unable to think of anything more to say on the subject. So, for the remainder of the short ride to Buffy's house, they kept quiet. Mrs. Rosenburg's car was parked in the driveway, a reminder of who and what was waiting for Buffy inside her house.

Up until the moment she got out of the car, Buffy had held herself together by detaching from the whole situation. Now, as she walked towards her door, the urge to run nearly took over. Letting Spike bite her wasn't the scary part, she'd been bitten before. It was the intimacy of it, the being vulnerable, the very things she had been trying to avoid for two months. Buffy felt like she was being forcefully ripped from her safety zone, mercilessly tossed into the unknown abyss. Taking a deep breath, which did nothing to ease her fear, she opened the front door and walked in with Anya and Xander right behind her.

Naturally, the first person she saw was Spike, who had come to abrupt halt of his nervous pacing when she walked in. He stared at her with deeply furrowed brows, but the moment was interrupted when the rest of the Scoobies came rushing to greet her. The Slayer knew they all meant well, but even so, being surrounded by her friends only added claustrophobia to her anxiety.

Spike sensed her fear and yelled over the oblivious crowd, "Come on, people! Give her some room to breath!"

A murmuring of apologies spread throughout the group as they dispersed, leaving Buffy with Dawn, who held her sister's hand supportively. Buffy swallowed hard and looked at Spike. He held her gaze for an instant, then looked away, unable to face her.

Dawn led Buffy to the living room, where the gang was standing around awkwardly. Buffy sat down on the couch; the others followed suit and found a seat, with the exception of Spike, who stiffly leaned against the wall of the living room's entrance. No one said a word.

After a few minutes of the unbearable silence Buffy spoke up. "Somebody say something, please!"

"Um, can I get you some tea?" Willow offered weakly.

"Are you hungry? Me and An can get some take-out."

"Ooh! There's that new Chinese place we can try!" Anya effused, joining the 'avoid the subject at all costs' crowd.

Buffy looked at her friends as if they had ladybugs and garter snakes crawling all over them.

"You bloody morons! She doesn't need anythin' to eat, or a nice spot of tea! She wants to know if any of you halfwits has a way to keep me from having to bite her. Isn't that right, Slayer?"

"I would've left out the 'morons' and 'halfwits' part, but yeah…"

"Okay…how about the bloodletting?" Xander proposed. "Or better yet, you could go donate a couple pints of blood at the Red Cross!"

"And have a bone-eating demon come popping out of me and into some poor volunteer…hmmm, I'm thinking 'NO'. And again, 'no' with the wrist slashing. That's just ick and all suicidal-like, not to mention the 'ow' factor, or the mess. No one's taking a knife to this body."

"I know how you feel about the magic idea, but me and Tara could find a spell…" Willow carefully suggested.

Buffy shot Willow an annoyed glance. "Ya know, a sleeping spell or some simple trick is one thing, but Will, my body is made out of magic. My life has been a disaster because of magic. No magic."

"It was only a suggestion. Don't have to get all huffy, Buffy." Willow answered defensively.

"What about Angel?" asked Tara unassumingly.

Spike snorted and went back into the hall to pace some more. He was really starting to hate Tara and her brilliant ideas. If he were in his crypt, he'd be breaking things right about now.

Buffy thought about the notion of Angel and groaned inwardly. She could come up with no reasonable objection, other than she didn't like the idea. In fact, given the choice between the two vampires, she preferred Spike be the one for the 'job'. Angel was part of her past, he had left her, and he wasn't coming back.

Buffy shrugged, "Angel is not here. Spike is…"

"You trust Spike over Angel?" Xander wondered incredulously.

Buffy looked around the room at the curious faces of her pals and then at Spike who had ceased his pacing and stood watching her with intense interest. Then, it hit her like a frying pan upside her head: she did trust him, from the top of his bleached head to the tips of his weathered Doc Martins.

"Yes…I do," Buffy admitted, looking directly at Spike, who tilted his head as if he hadn't quite heard her right.

"Now wait just a cotton pickin' second here!" Xander protested. "Not that I ever liked Angel, but come on! He's way better than the 'Soulless One' over there."

"Xander's right, Buffy," Anya concurred, as if her saying so made it true.

"No he's not," Dawn disputed. "Spike's way better than that dork!"

"Thanks 'Bit, but he's right. I'm just a black-hearted demon with a cheeky grin. Not a good boy like precious Angel."

Willow shook her head. "I don't think Angel is a dork, Dawnie."

"Yes he is! He's all clumsy and goofy and stuff," Dawn disagreed, folding her arms for emphasis.

"Hey!" Buffy interrupted the argument and stood up. "Know what guys? There are too many chefs in the kitchen right now. This is between Spike and me. Public debate's officially over."

The Slayer walked confidently toward the vampire and stood in front of him. "Come with me," she told him resolutely and then turned around to face Willow. "Can you and Tara put up some kind of barrier so the Geminus doesn't escape through the fucking door again? Uh, please?"

"Of course…simple trick, no problemo," Willow replied, a bit shocked at Buffy's choice of words.

"Good, thanks," the Slayer said as she started towards the stairs. Spike reluctantly followed her lead.

"Do I get a say in this?" he asked her from the foot of the stairs.

"Say it upstairs," she answered curtly without turning around.

The two of them entered Buffy's bedroom and Spike gently closed the door. It was beyond awkward; the tension in the room was palpable. They stood a few feet apart and for several moments observed one another anxiously.

"So…" Buffy broke the silence not knowing what else to say. She walked cautiously towards him and extended her wrist to his mouth. Spike looked down with amusement at her delicate arm then looked back into her eyes. Slowly he took her hand and brought it to his lips, never breaking eye contact, and softly kissed her wrist.

"Sit down, love. We need to have ourselves a little chat," Spike told her as he released her hand.

Buffy frowned but obeyed his request and took a seat at the foot of her bed. "So talk."

Spike took a minute to collect his thoughts and focus on what he needed to say.

"Right, then. See, here's the thing…" he started walking around the room. "First off, you need to understand a few things, what this all entails."

"I think I know, Spike,"

"Shhhh…Don't interrupt. I don't think you do know, not exactly. Thing of it is, pet, well…it's like this…imagine bein' handed a check for twenty mil', getting everything your heart desired just like that. Now imagine if you had all that but it was only temporary, and you're left with nothin' but sweet memories. You see? I can't do it again. I have tried, really tried to respect your wishes and keep my distance. I'd do anythin' for you, you know that.

But I can't do this, Buffy. Not without getting somethin' in return, 'sides your gratitude. It's not like the last time, you know, in my crypt. This is…your life's blood--slayer's blood. It's bound to affect me; I can't help it. You've made it clear you don't want me…in that way. So go, call Angel and let him do the rescuing, he's good at that sort of thing."

Buffy took in his speech. Was Spike actually telling her 'no'? Giving her an out? She was amazed that he'd even bring up Angel, much less suggest she turn to him instead.

"You were in the room when I mentioned the part about trusting you, right?"

"Yeah, right after the bit about Angel not bein' here, but I am…so get him here, you've got time."

Buffy rolled her eyes, clearly he was not getting her. "I don't want Angel to bite me, you idiot! You think this is awkward? 'Hi Angel, could you come to Sunnydale and do me a favor? No biggie, just need you to suck out some of my blood and then go away'. He's not even in my life anymore!"

"He'd do it, you know he would."

"That's not the point! I asked you to do it, Spike."

In a flash, Spike was kneeling in front of her, gripping her arms painfully. "I told you, dammit! I want you too much. I love you too much. You really want to see what a horny monster I am?"

Buffy jerked her arms from his grip and pushed him backwards onto the floor. "God, Spike!" She stood up and glared down at him. "How thick are you? I understand the implications, okay?"

Spike got up on his feet and faced her, calmer this time. "You do? And you still want me to do this?"

She smiled sweetly at him. "Yes."

"What about after? What then?" He took a step closer.

"I'll let you know."

Spike grimaced and moved closer still. "Not very reassuring, love."

"Would you rather me get Angel?" She was drawing figure eights on his chest.

"To hell with Angel!" He grabbed her hips and brought her tight against him, her arm wedged between them. Buffy wiggled her hand up, and offered her wrist to him again.

Spike scoffed at the gesture, and loosened his embrace. "Now that's another thing. If we're goin' to do this, we're doin' it my way."

Buffy lowered her hand to her side in defeat, the fear plainly written across her face.

"You said you trusted me," he reminded her.

"I do…it's just…nerves."

"Well, believe me, darlin', you'll like my way much better." Spike reached for the golden locks that draped her neck and pushed them aside. Suddenly, he pushed her away. "What the bloody hell is that, Slayer?" he demanded when he saw the scars on her neck.

Buffy looked up at the ceiling and drolly recited the list, "The Master, Angel and Dracula."

The look of surprise on Spike's face was too irresistible to leave alone. "What's the matter, Spikey? You wanted to be my first?" she taunted him playfully.

He caught on immediately. "Tart," he teased her back with his trademark smirk and stalked towards her again.

She put her hands on her hips and gave him a beguiling smile.

"Trollop." He pressed his tongue against his teeth and languidly closed his eyes as he once again held her close.

Without warning, Spike swept her up in his arms and tossed her onto her bed with a thud. Before she could blink, he was scrambling on top of her and straddling her hips. An amused smile crossed his lips as he looked down at his slightly annoyed prey and contemplated his next move. How many times had he dreamed of this moment? How many scenarios had he imagined and which one would work here? It didn't matter, he decided. His only goal was to make damn sure she'd enjoy herself as much as he would. Spike made a quick inventory of the clothes she was wearing; royal blue sleeveless silk top under a matching cardigan, gray dress slacks and black shoes and socks. Nothing too tight, no belt to fuss with, except his own. Hastily, he unbuckled his belt and removed it, noting the look of dread on Buffy's face as he did so.

"It's okay, Buffy," he soothed her as he tenderly stroked her face. "I'm gonna take off my shirt, too. Alright?"

Buffy nodded and took a deep breath. She was terrified and excited at the same time. Captivated, she watched as Spike removed his T-shirt, revealing the lean muscular torso she had spent way too many hours obsessing over. Now there he was in all his half-naked, chiseled glory, giving her adoring looks that made her innards melt.

Slowly, Spike lowered himself over her, resting on his forearms and stretching his legs over hers. Her heart was racing beneath him, but the fear was no longer clouding her eyes. She had yet to relax, though, evident by the rigar mortis that had apparently set in when he lay on top of her. Was anything ever easy with the Slayer? Wouldn't be worth it if it were, he supposed.

Gently he began to kiss her forehead, moving his lips leisurely to her eyes, ears and cheeks but careful to avoid her lips. Teasing her like this made her forget her tension and soon she began to squirm with anticipation.

That's better Spike thought happily as he kicked off his boots.

Wriggling himself between her legs and forcing them apart, he found her mouth with his and began kissing her fervently. Buffy responded with equal passion, relishing the way it felt to be with him again. Why had she resisted this for so long? She couldn't remember, it seemed so right, so perfect. The strange connection she felt last time had returned in full force, allowing her to feel Spike's ecstasy coupled with her own. She wondered if he felt her the same way. Ask him later. Oh GOD! she mentally noted, before he slipped his hand between her legs with expert precision.

"Spike!" she cried out breathlessly. "You're supposed to be biting me."

Spike stopped for a moment and looked at her. "I know what I'm doin' here, love," he muttered before resuming his motions and recapturing her lips.

Buffy answered with a moan before breaking the kiss again. "Wait," she said, lightly pushing him away. Spike sat up, and gave her the most frightened and worried look she'd ever seen.

She managed to sit up a little. "I just want to take this off," she explained shyly. "You know, the blood and all…it's silk."

The worry turned to relief. "Oh!" he acknowledged and then got off of her so she could sit up. He helped remove the sweater, but decided to let her take off the shirt on her own, still a bit unnerved by the last time he attempted the feat. Instead, he lay on his side, propping his head up with his elbow and watched her strip for him. Not that she was trying too hard to appeal to him as she accomplished her task--she didn't have to try at all.

Buffy enjoyed the way his eyes danced with approval at the sight of her bared skin. He made her feel so beautiful. She lay down in front of him, matching his position and reached out to stroke his impossibly gorgeous cheekbones. Spike closed his eyes, treasuring the feel of her touch on his face. As he opened his eyes, his nimble fingers traced the outline of her bra, slipping under the tiny straps and letting them fall from her shoulders.

"Come here, you," Spike murmured, pulling her into his embrace for another snogfest. Their new position gave him better access to her neck, and other yet-to-be-seen regions of her person. Not wanting to waste time, he hastily unzipped her pants and slid his hand down to its target. Buffy let out a tiny gasp, which pleased him to no end.

She closed her eyes and bathed in the delicious tingling his adroit fingers were causing. So nice, she decided to return the favor--that and the fact she was immensely curious about what he had hidden in those black jeans. With some hesitation she reached for him, causing Spike to momentarily jump as if she'd scalded him. He bounced back quickly, though and pressed his free hand tightly against hers, amply satisfying her curiosity.

He held her hand there for a short time, leisurely guiding it along the swell of his jeans, relishing every second. Her touch made it impossible to concentrate on what he was supposed to be doing to her. Taking a deep breath, he removed her hand and cleared his throat.

"Love," he began, gazing regretfully in her eyes. "Not that I mind…I'd like nothin' more really…but I need to focus here and you're making that very hard."

Buffy smirked at his double entendre`. "Kinda the idea, isn't it?"

He smiled back at her impishly. "Well, yeah…but not yet. 'Sides, don't need much help in that department, now do I?"

"No," she agreed whole-heartedly. "You certainly dooooon't! God! You're good at that!" Buffy blurted out as he resumed the erotic activity of his skilled hand.

"You have no idea how gratifying it is to my cold, undead heart to hear you say that," he purred in her ear.

Finding the unbitten side of her neck, Spike nibbled and teased her with his mouth and tongue; he definitely wanted to make his own mark there. Her skin tasted salty-sweet, and he was content to linger there until exactly the right moment. Just to add a little more torture to his torturing, he began playing with her nipples through the scant material of her bra. His 'evil' ploy worked, because soon the Slayer was quivering at his touch, undulating her hips to match the rhythm of his hand. Spike let his vampire visage appear, but he didn't bite her. He was waiting for…

"Oh God, Spike! Please! Now! Bite me now!"

That.

Spike bit into the tender flesh at her jugular just as she began to climax. The combination of delectable waves of pleasure and sharp, piercing sensations almost made her pass out from the sheer intensity of it. It felt exquisite.

While Buffy was losing herself in the throes of ecstasy, Spike was losing control of his mind. He was fine, even masterful, up until he swallowed the 'vampire's aphrodisiac'. But now, with the Slayer's blood mixing with his own, he was struggling to maintain a modicum of restraint over his baser instincts. It was a futile attempt, the potency of her blood warming his veins, drowning and intoxicating him. He was hungry now, hungry for blood, for power and sex…for Buffy.

As her body recovered, Spike quit manipulating her with his hand and was on top of her again. Buffy sensed the change in him; his primal needs flooded her entire body as he gradually drained her. A tiny voice in the back of her mind tried to whisper a warning, something about…dangerous vampires? The whisper, however, was being drowned out by the louder, more urgent thoughts of 'oh yes!' and 'mmmm'. Especially since he was currently engaged in some seriously titillating bump and grind moves, which somehow turned into him actually pounding inside her. How the heck did he free himself so quickly? Maybe she helped? Am I naked? It didn't really matter; she was too busy being ravaged to care. Spike was growling like a wild dog and thrusting away at a furious pace that would damage any normal woman. But she wasn't normal. A primeval force, usually buried deep within her, had surfaced, matching the ferocious desire of her partner. It was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. They were enmeshed; one writhing mass of panting, snarling, howling beings, filling and feeding one another with unbridled lust.

A singular thought echoed in what was left of Spike's mind, 'Buffy, Buffy, Buffy, Buffy'.

He was infused with her blood, burning him from the inside out, fueling him further into his frenzied state. Her scent, her taste, her feel surrounded him. Their bodies were screaming for release now. Spike felt the burgeoning pressure deep within his groin, increasing with each savage thrust of his hips. Buffy was gasping little cries as he plunged inside her, driving them both closer to the edge, to the inevitable moment of…

Demon Interruptus.