"You've let the school down, you've let me down but most of all...you've let yourself down..."
He stared at her, blinked twice. Her eyes were hugely luminous, waiting for his response. Looking into them his train of thought wandered for a second, wondering how it'd be to have her look at him like that all the time. Like he was a man instead of something that had crawled out from under a rock. Realised he was staring.
"No. Sorry. Don't get it."
She sighed, moved her hands towards his throat as if she'd throttle him. Such delicate little hands as well, you'd think they'd have to pick someone with big hands. Great big hands for the slaying. Make it a prerequisite.
"Everything's inflatable...remember? The boy and the teacher and the... "
She groaned, turned away in disgust. Not quite sure what response she was going for anyway. But then she was hardly Dennis bloody Leary.
"Right. Sorry. I was forgetting. Vampires don't do humour."
He grunted felt around in his pockets. Knew he'd smoked the last one an hour ago, but it was something to do wasn't it? Besides, force of habit.
"Bollocks. We just find different things funny."
"What like? Terrorism?"
"Not unless it's in a good cause."
She raised an eyebrow at him, very nearly an eye-roll then but he'd noticed that she'd eased up on them a few hours ago. Round about the same time she'd made him recite Rilke to her. The Panther. Fantastic bloody poem. Always reminded him of her. The soul of a jungle cat contained in a tiny little body, imprisoned by destiny. Sort of poetic. He let his eyes slide surreptitiously along the length of her slender frame, wondered what muscles she could control that other girls couldn't.
"And just what are you looking at?"
Shit. Too late to change the expression on his face, have to roll with it. Turned the look of casual lust into a hundred-proof leer, locked eyes with her.
"Just thinking. You ever crack nuts between those thighs?"
To his surprise she didn't blush. Just threw the curtain of golden hair over her shoulder and folded her arms. Was that a smile? Maybe just a ghost of one. She looked away,
"You wish."
A low growl forced itself from his chest, and he tried to cover it, massaging his empty stomach as if it was causing him pain. She glanced over. No fooling her. Pretty sure that the Slayer knew the difference between a hungry vamp and a horny one. She wasn't rising to it though, which was just...well odd. Since when did the Chosen One pass up an opportunity for humiliating him? He felt her eyes on him again, as he picked up a bottle and started fiddling with a child-proof cap, acting as if it were suddenly the most fascinating bleeding puzzle since the Rubik's Cube.
"So, do you work out a lot?"
She'd tried to make it sound casual, the sort of enquiry any soldier serious about his or her work would make to another, but somewhere the end got twisted. Her voice going up into a little question mark that shouldn't have been there. He studied her and then saw it, the slightest flush of red around the base of her throat. Just a tiny thing, maybe she was allergic to Joyce's choice in washing powder, but somehow he thought not. Her eyes said no. That and the half twist of her body towards him, the ultra-casual way she'd left one of her hands resting on her upper thigh, like a little signpost. Flashing to him, calling him. This way Spike. This way. He swallowed, feeling that odd feeling in the pit of his stomach grow, sending little flashes of warmth to his groin. Jesus, not again. Scrambled to his feet before it could go any further.
"Yeah. Fair bit. What's that?"
He stalked purposefully over to the door, pointing to a small grate he hadn't noticed before. Heard her get up, stretching herself out with a little groan, walked over to stand beside him.
"Is it a fuse box or something?"
She reached up, wrenched off the steel covering like it was a Pringles top. Inside a mess of cables and electrodes, solder. Two pairs of eyes traced a red wire out of the box across in the direction of the door lock. Looked back at each other. You think...?
"Best let me do it."
Raised his eyes to the ceiling when she stuck him with her patented hard stare. Really couldn't be arsed to get into a sexism debate right now.
"Or you could. 'Cept I never really bothered learning that whole CPR thing."
She grumbled, but stepped away. Didn't know why he'd said that though. Seeing the Slayer lit up like a Christmas tree probably wouldn't have set the chip off or anything. Told himself that and, anyway, he preferred his meat rare. He stared at the wires trying not to let the utter confusion in his brain migrate to his face.
"O.K...here goes."
Crossed the live with the...what was the blue one again? That ought to do it anyway. A loud crackle and bang, and the whole thing fried. Metal melting and fusing in an instant. A shower of sparks poured out over him, spitting, before a kick like an angry cow sent him flying back hard against the metal shelves. The lights dimmed. A smell of acrid burning. He raised his head to look at the door lock.
Still red. Fuck.
And she was just standing there, hands on hips, her head cocked to one side. He frowned,
"It worked in Lethal Weapon."
"Will you please shut up."
"Oh right...sorry...I was forgetting..."
He dragged himself to his feet, suddenly feeling incredibly tired,
"...vampires can't do funny."
She frowned at him, shook her head,
"No. I mean shut up and listen."
He turned his head to one side, watching her. Eyes all big and all, like some kind of beautiful deer or something, ears straining, her whole body tensed for flight. Listening, listening...listening for what? Shrugged,
"No. Don't hear anything."
She turned those eyes to him, and he stepped back quickly, felt himself quail a little at the fury contained there.
"Exactly!"
Took two steps towards him, those tiny little hands balling up into tiny hard little fists.
"You shorted the air-conditioning out, you....jerk."
- - - - - - - - - -
"God."
She said the name like she thought he migh actually hear her. He debated a reply, and then decided against it. Compassion wasn't usually his thing, but she really looked like she could do without it right now. His internal demon thermometer wasn't always completely accurate but he was guessing the room temperate had just reached the critical thirty-three degrees. Boiling point for human emotions. A handy piece of information as far as vampires were concerned. Not being troubled by the heat, they could move through the city at times like this, keeping a watchful ear out for the telltale cries. A domestic row that had escalated, a simple mugging that had been blown wide open by the climbing mercury. Yeah, a vamp could really see some wonderful sights on a night like that. Smiled at the happy memories. Ah...New York in June.
He slid an eye over to her again, and let his gaze linger for second. She'd stripped down to her lycra top and removed her shoes but the trousers were still in place, albeit with the flies undone. Grinned, as he realised she'd rather broil to death in her own juices than let him see her in her panties. Her head slid to one side, trying to make contact with the cooler flooring, saw him.
"You're loving this aren't you?"
He quirked his eyebrows at her, stretched out his arms and laced his fingers behind his head.
"Dunno. Ask me again when it reaches forty."
Her mouth dropped open, eyes pleading and he felt a stab of contrition. Shit.
"Look...why don't you just take the rest of that stuff off."
She groaned, closed her eyes agonisingly,
"I promise I won't peek."
A ray of hope when she looked at him again. Please don't be joking this time. Could see her start to laugh weakly, when he pouted his bottom lip, made a cross over his un-beating heart.
"O.K. But you better turn your back. And stay turned."
He complied, but then he was a gentleman. Hoped she hadn't noticed his touch of real reluctance, or the gleaming steel bedpan leant against the wall in front of him. Heard the top come off with a grunt, then the trousers shimmying off over those silky, lean-muscled....oh for God's sake stop it. A sigh of complete relief as she spread herself out on the floor. One glance in his makeshift mirror told him the panties were still in place though, and he bit his lip in disappointment. Bollocks, she could at least go the whole hog.
"Better?"
"Mmmm."
She was almost purring, a soft tearing sound as she shifted sticky skin against the floor, rolled onto her front. He could see her face, but she couldn't see him, and her eyes were open staring at his back with a lazy look of curiosity.
"Don't vampires ever get hot?"
He swallowed, silently appraising the way the smooth line of her lower back slid into her deliciously curved buttocks. That sweet tasting crease just below, his favourite place on a woman, just before arse turned into thigh. Licked his lips and turned his head to one side, so she could see his face,
"We get hot. Thermometer just doesn't usually do it is all."
She snorted, rolled on her other side and he allowed himself a real look at her, first hand. Golden-tan skin, as soft and firm as a peach, the slender length of her small enough to fit in his hand, under his hands, in his mouth, under his tongue. Bit down on his lip as he thought of it. Tasting the Slayer, taking the Slayer, kissing and licking and sucking and nibbling....
Bloody hell.
Eyelids flickered shut in an internal film show of bliss, throat constricting. Should think of something else, but he couldn't. Could only see her now, sneaked another look again to let himself believe she was real. Jesus, she had a fucking gorgeous little arse.
"Spike?"
Her voice brought him slapping back to earth, almost giving himself whiplash in his haste to turn away, to look back at the wall with her image, her shape burned on his retina.
"What's a vampire's body temperature?"
He closed his eyes, sighed. More bleeding Slayer questions. 'Spike, how long can you go without blood?' 'Spike, what does it feel like when you're being drained?' 'Spike...do vampires have to use deodorant?' Made him feel like a bloody guinea-pig sometimes, or one of those Speak 'n' Spell things. Should host his only panel show, 'Ask The Vamp' or twenty bleeding questions. He shook his head,
"I dunno. Cold. Less that humans."
"Much less?"
Where was she going with this?
"Yeah love, much less. Gets lower the hotter the temperature, sort of like a vamp regulator."
"Then can I ask you a favour?"
He let his brain stew on that one for a second before he answered. Careful now.
"Uh...yeah? Sure."
Risked a sneaky look over his shoulder at her. She was turned away from him still, small shoulders slack with exhaustion, hair clinging to her soaking back like water weed.
"Will you please come lie over here?"
- - - - - - - - - -
He squirmed his back a little, couldn't help it. Her shoulder blades were like knives, digging into him. Shifted again, trying to get comfy.
"Stop wiggling."
"I'm not."
"It's making me feel sick."
"No pet. You're sick, that's what's making you sick."
Reached a hand back behind his head, to lay it on her forehead again. Christ, like a furnace. She moaned softly, pressing one of her hands down on his.
"Mmmm, s'nice and cold."
Yeah, and bloody uncomfortable too. The muscles straining in his arm as she dragged it back there.
"Ow!! That bloody hurts."
"Don't be such a baby."
He growled low and threatening, the only thing he had left now, and he felt her go rigid against him for a second, her thighs hard again the backs of his. Mmm. Interesting. Not so surprising though, Angel probably growled at her all the time, while they were...well the one time anyway. Bad associations. He let his arm relax back against her shoulder. Or good ones maybe. Let another soft growl go, a little experiment. She stiffened again, this time a little tremor. Mmmm...as the lady said.
"Why do you do that?"
He smiled secretly,
"Do what?"
"The growling."
Considered a lie but hey, what the hell. She was half-naked pressed against his back, and it's not as if they hadn't shared a fair bit these last few hours. Let his shoulders relax back into her.
"You know why."
He heard her swallow, a little loud, tentative. Knew he'd crossed a line now, no going back.
"When you get...turned on?"
He gave a small laugh. The trepidation in her voice was so delightful.
"Yeah."
Her breathing was shallower now, and he could hear her heartbeat quicken, fast anyway from the effects of the raw alcohol, heat and dehydration. He could hear the blood rushing through her veins, like the sound of the sea, speaking to him, only him. Beautiful. She was so beautiful. The feel of her against him, all steel and softness, flexed like a bow. Wanted to touch her, had to touch her. Had to taste her.
"Spike?"
"Yeah?"
She sighed, and then twisted. Impossibly, twisted round till she she was facing his back, he could feel her breasts pressing into him, the nipples just this side of hard and she had to be aware of that, had to know the instant effect that would have on him. His cock jumping to sudden hard life in his pants. She moved forward, her belly cupping his lower back, the muscles straining against him, touched her mouth to his ear like she would taste it, soft breath sending galvanic shivers down his spine. He closed his eyes, groaned.
"Spike?"
"Yeah...baby?"
She sighed, twisting and rolling away in one fluid movement.
"You're disgusting."
- - - - - - - - - -
"You know what you are don't you?"
She smiled at him, pure evil, fluttered her eyelashes a tad theatrically.
"Yes. I do."
"You're a prick-tease."
She laughed out loud, shocking him.
"A prick-tease? Why? 'Cos I'm totally immune to your so-called charms?"
He stuck two fingers in the waistband of his jeans, eyed her with venom,
"No. Because you're not."
She opened her mouth, started to laugh. And then shut it again. Yeah. She knew it. Knew he was right. He wasn't stupid, and certainly wasn't delusional. Couldn't believe that it had happened, but it had. She had wanted him. For a moment back there she had wanted him as much as he had wanted her. Felt it with every fibre of his being, every ounce of his vampire sense. For just a second there she had wanted to fuck him every bit as much as she wanted to kill him. And he knew all about that.
"You're deranged."
He half-closed his eyes, wished for a cigarette, but knew no, in actual fact this craving suddenly had nothing to do with nicotine. It had to do with her. The bottle-blonde-headed, little chit that he'd danced around for the last two and a half years, seethed over, raged over, but could never bring himself to kill. That first night in the Bronze, when he'd slid in, all swagger and stance, ready to make his mark, another notch in William The Bloody's battle axe, he'd seen her and the world had gone away. What should have been just another kill, a great one, a glorious one but a kill none the less, had turned into something else in that instant. It had turned into an affair.
Stolen glances, covert meetings, carefully chosen words in clandestine exchanges. And all the time the heat simmering, bubbling, occasionally boiling over into the satisfying contact of their fists and feet. Flashing eyes and blades and all the time they'd been dancing round each other, holding the fire in check with curses and glib one liners;
'What happens on Saturday?'
'I kill you'.
What a fucking joke. As if he could. As if he would. He might as well rip out his own unbeating heart and offer it to the Gods, whoever the fuck they were. He could no more kill her than he could himself.
Took a step towards her and felt her answer, her heart start to race again, like the deer, like the hunted, like his would if he were alive again. Because that's how she made him feel, with her liquid-fire eyes and her rarely-granted smiles, even her curses and jokes at his expense. By the way she spoke to him, like he had thoughts that counted, a mind, a brain that she valued. Like he was a person. Took hold of her elbows, the arms she'd folded across her breasts protectively,
"Spike..."
She spoke softly, almost a plea and he stopped, watching her breathe, her chest rising and falling. She shook her head, was she crying? The Slayer doesn't cry.
"Buffy...I..."
"Just...don't..."
He sighed, dropped his hands to his sides in exasperation.
"I'm sorry...I mean..I didn't mean to...."
Her eyes rolled up to meet him and he was gone, hooked, drowning in her like she was the deep green ocean. God, she was so beautiful. How could anyone wish to destroy that? Couldn't stop himself. Had to touch her, had to taste her. Captured her mouth with his and held it, savouring something he'd never come close to before. Never touched once, despite all their touching, all their fighting and their dancing. Felt her respond like a wave, emotions swelling behind her eyes, building higher and higher. Too much, she couldn't, she wouldn't, this had to be wrong. Had to be. Broke from him gasping,
"God...what are we doing?!"
He stumbled, still there on the wave, still cresting, riding it in. Reached for her again, this time the heel of his hand finding the side of her breast, the thumb skating over her nipple. Found her mouth again, drank from her. Need like an addiction coursed through him, wanted her, wanted to feel her now, wanted her to feel him. She was losing her grip, slipping and sliding into his eyes, her hands urgent now at the small of his back, pulling his t-shirt free. Hands on his shoulder blades, fingernails tearing at him, breaking the kiss to wrench his shirt free. He felt her bend and mould against his chest, savouring the coolness of him, her breasts making two twin centres of heat, her flesh sticking to him. She wanted more every bit as much as he did, wanted more of him against her, everything. Little fingers found his belt buckle and every muscle in his body tensed. She broke the kiss again, eyes gone hazy with lust and need,
"Spike...I'm gonna..."
He breathed ragged sighs, twisting and turning against the pressure of her hand through his jeans. Slid his under the thin material of her panties, watched her gasp as he found the spot, began to stroke with praticed rhythmic ease,
"Spike...I think I'm gonna..."
He gasped as her hand moved against him, slid between zipper and skin, bit his lip. Slayer hands, Slayer strength...did that mean...God, Slayer stamina?
"You go ahead baby...you just go ahead."
Her eyes glazed, limbs suddenly gone slack. A long breath escaping from her lips as she tumbled, knees buckling, slid to the floor with a groan. Stood there with his pants open, cock staring stiffly out, two fingers still extended, glistening.
Right.
I think I'm going to
....faint.