Author's notes: Okay, we finally get to a few of the reasons why I decided
to put this story in the R column of FF.Net. Fun, eh?
"Mr. Giles, I highly protest this." Dr Patel all but fumed at Spike. "While you seem to be recovering at an, well, an impossible rate, you should remain in hospitalized care until we're convinced that you are well enough to be checked out."
"Heh. Mate, I appreciate the concern, but as you can see, I'm doing fine. Perfect health, burns all fading, and I'm right as rain." Spike said, slipping on the black button-up shirt Buffy and Dawn had brought him earlier that week. Not his old t-shirt and red silk shirt, but those went up in flames underneath Sunnydale, along with his duster.
"No you're not, you still display signs of anemia, and you're sadly depleted of melanin."
"Haven't been in the sun for a while, Doc, that's all, and as for the other," he said, shifting into 'game-face', "Well, that's easily taken care of." He laughed at the ashen-faced look on the doctor's face, then slipped back into normalcy.
"Was that totally necessary, Spike?" Buffy asked the ex-vampire, as they walked out the front doors of the hospital.
"Not in the least, but is sure as bloody hell was fun, though! Got sick and tired of that chap and his white-suited dominatrix wanna-be's poking an' proddin' at me. Let's blow this ruddy pop-stand."
Spike stopped in place, a vague sense of confusion blatant on his face as he watched Buffy walk directly to a long white stretch-limo. She turned around, realizing that he wasn't next to her anymore.
"What?"
"Uh, pet, I thought we were taking the S.H.S. bus. Where'd you lot get the cash for this little ride?"
"Well, Robin has the keys, and he's still cooped up in there. No Slayer or Vamp healing, remember?" Spike cocked the scarred eyebrow at Buffy's flip answer. "I called in some markers, okay?"
"Oh, SODDING HELL! Not ANGEL? Bollocks!"
"Spike, relax. Do you honestly think that Angel of all people would loan me a limo, just to pick you up?" Then, she quirked an eyebrow right back at the former blond. "Especially with what I plan on doing to you in the back seat?"
The grin on Spike's face answered her question.
*_*_*_*_*
As the Limo pulled away, Buffy pulled Spike to her. "And by the way, Spike, in case you hadn't gotten the picture yet," she said, capturing his lips with hers, "I"
(One short, chaste kiss) "Love,"
(longer, not so innocent) "You." She opened her mouth, letting his tongue inside, dueling with her own. She moaned softly into his mouth, then yelped as her tongue grazed a very sharp fang.
"Sorry, pet. I-" He muttered, turning away, shame-faced. Buffy captured his face with her hand, turning him back to face her.
"Spike, look at me." She looked into his blue eyes, when he finally met her gaze. "Show me."
"Buffy, I,"
"Show. Me."
He slid his game-face into place. She gazed directly into his golden-yellow eyes, tracing the panther-like bone ridges of his demon's face.
"I love you, Spike. All of you, the man and the demon." She leaned in, and kissed him, game-face and all. "Now show me, Spike. Show me how you feel."
Suddenly, his mouth met hers, his left hand wrapping herself in her hair as their tongues met again. For the first time, Buffy realized why some folks referred to this as 'tonsil-hockey'. She whimpered into his mouth as his hand slid inside the cup of her bra, his thumb circling the stiff peak inside. She reached down, tugging his shirt over his head, losing his lips just long enough to pull both of their tops off. Spike's game-face slid away, as he gazed in awed hunger at the globes of her breasts, incased in shimmering green sheer lycra.
Buffy gave a small, tentatively nervous smile, as she undid the front clasp, then pulled him towards her. Spike kissed her again, softly this time.
"Let me make love to you, Buffy. We've fucked, we've shagged, we've screwed, but we've never made love. Let me make love to you. Let me love you, Buffy."
"Always."
Clothes slid away, and hands slid across skin. Buffy gasped as Spike's fingers slid deeply into her moist core, his thumb circling the throbbing nub at the top of the slit. Before she knew it, their clothes almost seemed to slide away. She found herself linking her fingers together behind his neck as her legs wrapped of their own volition around his hips. Damp fingers smelling faintly of her stroked her cheek, and she whimpered into his mouth as he slowly filled her. Slowly, they rocked together, softly picking up speed, until they thrashed together like old times, slipping into the familiar rhythms, familiar sensations of each other's bodies. Hands slid over skin, bodies rocked together, closer, closer, until Buffy screamed , spasming around Spike, driving him over the brink as well. His roar slammed through the car like a physical thing, as he stiffened atop her trembling form.
The limo lurched slightly, and Buffy looked over Spike's shoulder, then broke out into giggles.
"What?" Spike asked, looking directly into her eyes. She pointed at where her foot now rested, straight through the smoked Plexiglas of the divider.
"Oops."
"Well, Buff, at least we didn't demolish the car like we did the house, last year."
"Or all of Sunnydale, last week. When you do something mister, you never go halfway, do you?"
"Nahh, what's the point of that, pet? Anything worth doing is worth overdoing, especially if it's sex or violence."
"Uh, you folks okay, back there?" The driver asked over the limo's intercom. Buffy reached past Spike and hit the intercom button.
"Uh, we're fine. are we at our first stop yet?"
"Yes, Ms. Summers, we're here, I've been circling the block as per your instructions." A brief pause, then "Um, you ARE done back there, right?" Buffy burst out into laughter.
"Yeah, we're great. Give us a few, though. Oh, and sorry about the window."
"No problems, Ms. Summers, the boss said something like this might happen. It's covered, we can fix it later." The drivers voice came back. "tell me when, and I can let you out then."
"Uh, give us a sec, mate. I, for one would appreciate it." Spike said, laughing. "All right, Buffy. I'll bite. What's with this 'first stop' business?"
She brushed her fingers through his light brown locks and laughed. "Well, Spike, Dawn and I are kinda used to the brown hair, and all, but the others might not be. So, I decided on giving you some sort of, well, anti-make- over."
"After all that time you used to give me hell over my punk-rock fashion tastes, you're putting up good money to restore that self-same look you always claimed you hate? Love, I'm touched!" he said, as he pulled his clothes back on.
An hour later, Spike walked out of the salon, his hair bleached back to it's classic platinum blond shade, spiked up in all his original punk rock glory, black polish adorning his fingernails, and his old swaggering Billy Idol-ish sneer back in it's rightful place on his face.
"Er, Spike is that mascara? And, and, eyeliner?" She asked, peering carefully at the vampire, or former vampire's face.
"Hey, don't knock it, pet. I killed my second slayer wearing mascara and eyeliner. It was the punk era. B'sides, " he said, "it brings out my eyes."
Buffy burst out laughing at that.
"WHAT?!?"
*_*_*_*_*
"Wait a minute, ain't this Wolfram and Hart? Tall, dark, and broody's anti- playmates? Evil lawyers, helping the forces of darkness screw with puppies and Christmas?"
"Well, Spike," Buffy said, "There's been a few changes. Come on."
Spike walked to a pair of double-doors that Buffy waved him towards. Ignoring the vague sense of apprehension that gripped him (Get a grip, Spike, you're the Big Bad!), he threw open the doors.
"SURPRISE! WELCOME HOME, SPIKE!"
Spike looked in surprise and shock at the scene before him. A banner reading 'Welcome back to the Living' stretched across what appeared to be a combination nightclub lounge and stage. Dawn, Xander, Faith, Giles, the new Slayers, Willow, Angel, and some people he's never seen before all stood there, applauding him. HIM, SPIKE! And, except for Angel, everyone looked truly enthusiastic to see him. Dawn rushed forward and hugged him, then suddenly, Xander and Willow were there too, wrapping him in a crushing bear hug.
"Welcome back to the living, dead-boy Jr." Xander joked, as he and Willow stepped back.
"Let's here it for our guest of honor, Who gave his life for others and got a second chance! William Cotswold, also known as William the Bloody, A.K.A. Spike! I'm Lorne, your Host for the evening, and we're all here to give a big welcome back to the man who is not only the Slayer of Slayers, the Scourge of Europe, and the Destroyer of Sunnydale, but is also the man who was key in the destruction of the First Evil!"
Lorne grinned, rubbed his hands together, and continued, "Well, we have live entertainment for the guests, well wishes from all, presents from your friends, and later tonight, we'll have karaoke, which, as we all know, is Japanese for 'tone deaf'!"
Later, as presents were unwrapped (and after Buffy unwrapped her doting little sister from her boyfriend), Spike stood in awe at the gifts. Dawn and Giles went to a motorcycle accessory shop and found a pair of vicious looking motocross boots in Spike's size, and Buffy, Xander, Willow, and Faith had pooled their money together and bought a black leather duster to replace the one that had been incinerated with Spike. Vi and Kennedy chipped in a pair of fingerless leather gloves and spiked wristbands, completing the punk ensemble.
Spike looked over to a side-room, where Angel stood, looking out at the sunset.
"So, when did the big, bad Angelus develop a pulse?" he quietly asked, taking a puff from his cigarette and a sip from the single-malt whisky Giles had slipped into his hand earlier. "Sunlight no longer a problem for you, too, either?"
"Necro-technic glass, keeps the light from torching vampires. Even the ones with souls. Except you're not a vampire with a soul, you're a mortal with a demon now, aren't you?" Angel all but grated out, taking a sip from his rum and coke.
"And you're missing Connor, aren't you?" Spike asked, a sideways look at his grand-sire.
Angel choked on his drink, glaring at the peroxide-blond. "How the HELL do you know about that?"
"Died, remember? The spell your new employees cast to make everyone forget you had a son was broken upon me turning into a tidy pile of ashes." He slumped against the wall, all traces of his gutter-cockney accent gone, his original upper-class tones coming to the fore. "Look, we'll probably never be friends ever again, Angelus, there's too much water under the bridge for us to ever be family again, what with you getting your soul and leaving Dru and me, not to mention Buffy's rather poor attempt to break things off gently in the cemetery last week, but I'd at least like a truce. I never wanted to hurt you, Angel; kill, maim, and injure you, maybe. But not like this. For what it's worth, I'm sorry that you're hurting this way. I never expected to come back, when I wore that damned necklace. I just wanted to keep Buffy safe."
"Spike, I appreciate that. But just remember this. If you EVER hurt Buffy in ANY way, if you ever give her any cause to regret the choice she made, I WILL kill you." Angel said, game-face on, looking his grand-childe in the eyes.
"Mate, If I ever do that, I WANT you to kill me. Buffy means the world to me. She's the bright counterpoint to Drusilla's darkness. If I ever give her a reason to doubt my feelings for her, I plan on getting myself re- sired, just so I can take a walk out in the sunlight and end it all." Spike said.
The two turned and walked back into the party, just as Lorne geared the karaoke machine up, the strains of Billy Idol's song Rebel Yell starting up.
THE END.
AUTHORS NOTES 2: Okay, this is the final chapter for now, but there WILL be a sequel, I promise! Thank you to all those who've been reviewing this story, you've given me a totally Sally Fields moment "They like me, they really LIKE ME!". But, first, I plan on writing a response to a challenge a friend of mine gave me, and writing a Buffy/American Pie crossover. Have fun, one and all!
"Mr. Giles, I highly protest this." Dr Patel all but fumed at Spike. "While you seem to be recovering at an, well, an impossible rate, you should remain in hospitalized care until we're convinced that you are well enough to be checked out."
"Heh. Mate, I appreciate the concern, but as you can see, I'm doing fine. Perfect health, burns all fading, and I'm right as rain." Spike said, slipping on the black button-up shirt Buffy and Dawn had brought him earlier that week. Not his old t-shirt and red silk shirt, but those went up in flames underneath Sunnydale, along with his duster.
"No you're not, you still display signs of anemia, and you're sadly depleted of melanin."
"Haven't been in the sun for a while, Doc, that's all, and as for the other," he said, shifting into 'game-face', "Well, that's easily taken care of." He laughed at the ashen-faced look on the doctor's face, then slipped back into normalcy.
"Was that totally necessary, Spike?" Buffy asked the ex-vampire, as they walked out the front doors of the hospital.
"Not in the least, but is sure as bloody hell was fun, though! Got sick and tired of that chap and his white-suited dominatrix wanna-be's poking an' proddin' at me. Let's blow this ruddy pop-stand."
Spike stopped in place, a vague sense of confusion blatant on his face as he watched Buffy walk directly to a long white stretch-limo. She turned around, realizing that he wasn't next to her anymore.
"What?"
"Uh, pet, I thought we were taking the S.H.S. bus. Where'd you lot get the cash for this little ride?"
"Well, Robin has the keys, and he's still cooped up in there. No Slayer or Vamp healing, remember?" Spike cocked the scarred eyebrow at Buffy's flip answer. "I called in some markers, okay?"
"Oh, SODDING HELL! Not ANGEL? Bollocks!"
"Spike, relax. Do you honestly think that Angel of all people would loan me a limo, just to pick you up?" Then, she quirked an eyebrow right back at the former blond. "Especially with what I plan on doing to you in the back seat?"
The grin on Spike's face answered her question.
*_*_*_*_*
As the Limo pulled away, Buffy pulled Spike to her. "And by the way, Spike, in case you hadn't gotten the picture yet," she said, capturing his lips with hers, "I"
(One short, chaste kiss) "Love,"
(longer, not so innocent) "You." She opened her mouth, letting his tongue inside, dueling with her own. She moaned softly into his mouth, then yelped as her tongue grazed a very sharp fang.
"Sorry, pet. I-" He muttered, turning away, shame-faced. Buffy captured his face with her hand, turning him back to face her.
"Spike, look at me." She looked into his blue eyes, when he finally met her gaze. "Show me."
"Buffy, I,"
"Show. Me."
He slid his game-face into place. She gazed directly into his golden-yellow eyes, tracing the panther-like bone ridges of his demon's face.
"I love you, Spike. All of you, the man and the demon." She leaned in, and kissed him, game-face and all. "Now show me, Spike. Show me how you feel."
Suddenly, his mouth met hers, his left hand wrapping herself in her hair as their tongues met again. For the first time, Buffy realized why some folks referred to this as 'tonsil-hockey'. She whimpered into his mouth as his hand slid inside the cup of her bra, his thumb circling the stiff peak inside. She reached down, tugging his shirt over his head, losing his lips just long enough to pull both of their tops off. Spike's game-face slid away, as he gazed in awed hunger at the globes of her breasts, incased in shimmering green sheer lycra.
Buffy gave a small, tentatively nervous smile, as she undid the front clasp, then pulled him towards her. Spike kissed her again, softly this time.
"Let me make love to you, Buffy. We've fucked, we've shagged, we've screwed, but we've never made love. Let me make love to you. Let me love you, Buffy."
"Always."
Clothes slid away, and hands slid across skin. Buffy gasped as Spike's fingers slid deeply into her moist core, his thumb circling the throbbing nub at the top of the slit. Before she knew it, their clothes almost seemed to slide away. She found herself linking her fingers together behind his neck as her legs wrapped of their own volition around his hips. Damp fingers smelling faintly of her stroked her cheek, and she whimpered into his mouth as he slowly filled her. Slowly, they rocked together, softly picking up speed, until they thrashed together like old times, slipping into the familiar rhythms, familiar sensations of each other's bodies. Hands slid over skin, bodies rocked together, closer, closer, until Buffy screamed , spasming around Spike, driving him over the brink as well. His roar slammed through the car like a physical thing, as he stiffened atop her trembling form.
The limo lurched slightly, and Buffy looked over Spike's shoulder, then broke out into giggles.
"What?" Spike asked, looking directly into her eyes. She pointed at where her foot now rested, straight through the smoked Plexiglas of the divider.
"Oops."
"Well, Buff, at least we didn't demolish the car like we did the house, last year."
"Or all of Sunnydale, last week. When you do something mister, you never go halfway, do you?"
"Nahh, what's the point of that, pet? Anything worth doing is worth overdoing, especially if it's sex or violence."
"Uh, you folks okay, back there?" The driver asked over the limo's intercom. Buffy reached past Spike and hit the intercom button.
"Uh, we're fine. are we at our first stop yet?"
"Yes, Ms. Summers, we're here, I've been circling the block as per your instructions." A brief pause, then "Um, you ARE done back there, right?" Buffy burst out into laughter.
"Yeah, we're great. Give us a few, though. Oh, and sorry about the window."
"No problems, Ms. Summers, the boss said something like this might happen. It's covered, we can fix it later." The drivers voice came back. "tell me when, and I can let you out then."
"Uh, give us a sec, mate. I, for one would appreciate it." Spike said, laughing. "All right, Buffy. I'll bite. What's with this 'first stop' business?"
She brushed her fingers through his light brown locks and laughed. "Well, Spike, Dawn and I are kinda used to the brown hair, and all, but the others might not be. So, I decided on giving you some sort of, well, anti-make- over."
"After all that time you used to give me hell over my punk-rock fashion tastes, you're putting up good money to restore that self-same look you always claimed you hate? Love, I'm touched!" he said, as he pulled his clothes back on.
An hour later, Spike walked out of the salon, his hair bleached back to it's classic platinum blond shade, spiked up in all his original punk rock glory, black polish adorning his fingernails, and his old swaggering Billy Idol-ish sneer back in it's rightful place on his face.
"Er, Spike is that mascara? And, and, eyeliner?" She asked, peering carefully at the vampire, or former vampire's face.
"Hey, don't knock it, pet. I killed my second slayer wearing mascara and eyeliner. It was the punk era. B'sides, " he said, "it brings out my eyes."
Buffy burst out laughing at that.
"WHAT?!?"
*_*_*_*_*
"Wait a minute, ain't this Wolfram and Hart? Tall, dark, and broody's anti- playmates? Evil lawyers, helping the forces of darkness screw with puppies and Christmas?"
"Well, Spike," Buffy said, "There's been a few changes. Come on."
Spike walked to a pair of double-doors that Buffy waved him towards. Ignoring the vague sense of apprehension that gripped him (Get a grip, Spike, you're the Big Bad!), he threw open the doors.
"SURPRISE! WELCOME HOME, SPIKE!"
Spike looked in surprise and shock at the scene before him. A banner reading 'Welcome back to the Living' stretched across what appeared to be a combination nightclub lounge and stage. Dawn, Xander, Faith, Giles, the new Slayers, Willow, Angel, and some people he's never seen before all stood there, applauding him. HIM, SPIKE! And, except for Angel, everyone looked truly enthusiastic to see him. Dawn rushed forward and hugged him, then suddenly, Xander and Willow were there too, wrapping him in a crushing bear hug.
"Welcome back to the living, dead-boy Jr." Xander joked, as he and Willow stepped back.
"Let's here it for our guest of honor, Who gave his life for others and got a second chance! William Cotswold, also known as William the Bloody, A.K.A. Spike! I'm Lorne, your Host for the evening, and we're all here to give a big welcome back to the man who is not only the Slayer of Slayers, the Scourge of Europe, and the Destroyer of Sunnydale, but is also the man who was key in the destruction of the First Evil!"
Lorne grinned, rubbed his hands together, and continued, "Well, we have live entertainment for the guests, well wishes from all, presents from your friends, and later tonight, we'll have karaoke, which, as we all know, is Japanese for 'tone deaf'!"
Later, as presents were unwrapped (and after Buffy unwrapped her doting little sister from her boyfriend), Spike stood in awe at the gifts. Dawn and Giles went to a motorcycle accessory shop and found a pair of vicious looking motocross boots in Spike's size, and Buffy, Xander, Willow, and Faith had pooled their money together and bought a black leather duster to replace the one that had been incinerated with Spike. Vi and Kennedy chipped in a pair of fingerless leather gloves and spiked wristbands, completing the punk ensemble.
Spike looked over to a side-room, where Angel stood, looking out at the sunset.
"So, when did the big, bad Angelus develop a pulse?" he quietly asked, taking a puff from his cigarette and a sip from the single-malt whisky Giles had slipped into his hand earlier. "Sunlight no longer a problem for you, too, either?"
"Necro-technic glass, keeps the light from torching vampires. Even the ones with souls. Except you're not a vampire with a soul, you're a mortal with a demon now, aren't you?" Angel all but grated out, taking a sip from his rum and coke.
"And you're missing Connor, aren't you?" Spike asked, a sideways look at his grand-sire.
Angel choked on his drink, glaring at the peroxide-blond. "How the HELL do you know about that?"
"Died, remember? The spell your new employees cast to make everyone forget you had a son was broken upon me turning into a tidy pile of ashes." He slumped against the wall, all traces of his gutter-cockney accent gone, his original upper-class tones coming to the fore. "Look, we'll probably never be friends ever again, Angelus, there's too much water under the bridge for us to ever be family again, what with you getting your soul and leaving Dru and me, not to mention Buffy's rather poor attempt to break things off gently in the cemetery last week, but I'd at least like a truce. I never wanted to hurt you, Angel; kill, maim, and injure you, maybe. But not like this. For what it's worth, I'm sorry that you're hurting this way. I never expected to come back, when I wore that damned necklace. I just wanted to keep Buffy safe."
"Spike, I appreciate that. But just remember this. If you EVER hurt Buffy in ANY way, if you ever give her any cause to regret the choice she made, I WILL kill you." Angel said, game-face on, looking his grand-childe in the eyes.
"Mate, If I ever do that, I WANT you to kill me. Buffy means the world to me. She's the bright counterpoint to Drusilla's darkness. If I ever give her a reason to doubt my feelings for her, I plan on getting myself re- sired, just so I can take a walk out in the sunlight and end it all." Spike said.
The two turned and walked back into the party, just as Lorne geared the karaoke machine up, the strains of Billy Idol's song Rebel Yell starting up.
THE END.
AUTHORS NOTES 2: Okay, this is the final chapter for now, but there WILL be a sequel, I promise! Thank you to all those who've been reviewing this story, you've given me a totally Sally Fields moment "They like me, they really LIKE ME!". But, first, I plan on writing a response to a challenge a friend of mine gave me, and writing a Buffy/American Pie crossover. Have fun, one and all!