DISCLAIMER: JOSS owns all rights regarding all Buffy characters. Sara McLachlan owns all rights regarding Possession and its lyrics. I own nothing but an overactive imagination and an undeniable need to share my crazy thoughts with others.

Well, folks this is it. I didn't want to make this one too long since it was my first effort on Buffy. If you really liked it, please review! I have lots of other fics in my brain, but I also have the typical self- loathing writer's complex that makes me hesitant to put stuff out there for everyone to see! I just don't want to bore everyone to pieces! Thanks so much for your very kind reviews so far. It's been a tremendous help to me!! Just to warn you, this is the chapter that required the R rating. There is bloodplay, so if that's not your bag....beware! Spuffy forever....let fan fic rule. :o)

And I would be the one to hold you down, kiss you so hard, I'll take your breath away and after I'd wipe away the tears, Just close your eyes dear

The air between them crackled with energy. Buffy took little panting breaths. She was locked in place, her hands now clenched tightly at her sides. Spike was frozen as well, afraid to take a step, afraid to remain still. The only thing that moved between them was their tears, tracking relentlessly down their faces as they stared at each other with a mix of wonder and disbelief. The seconds ticked painfully by while they waited. Waited for something to happen. Waited for someone to move.

With a tiny gasp, Buffy caved first. She lunged for him, tackling him in an awkward embrace. Her knees gave way as her arms wrapped around his neck, her face nuzzling into his chest. His pulled her closer with a tightness that made her heart sing. Together, they clicked into place as if they had never left the other's arms.

"God, Buffy," he sighed at last, his body filling with her warmth and life as she sobbed into his shoulder, her tears seeping through the thin cotton shirt. He could feel the damp heat of her tears on his skin now and in combination with everything else, it sent him over the edge. He had meant to be irritated with her for being here, for being with him. He wanted to be smug, cool, indifferent. But he couldn't be. Not with her all tucked in his arms, weeping into his chest. Because she wanted him there, really wanted him. Even if it was just for this moment.

"Spike," she breathed between sobs, lifting her wet face to him, "How? How are you here?" Her hands, shaking as badly as his own, moved to his face, tracing fiery paths over his wet cheeks.

"I didn't quite fit in there," he said with a smirk, smoothing her hair and kissing her forehead.

She pulled away from his lips and a chasm of cold pain instantly split through him. Rejection. But it was not what he thought. His eyes widened in shock when her fingers laced behind his neck. She pulled his head down, bending him to her lips with determination that could not be ignored.

Their lips met as they had in the past, only this time tears mingled with the heat and the frenzy of the kiss. There was no transition from chaste to passionate. As it always was, the kiss was like fire, hungry and powerful. When their mouths connected, their tongues met in a familiar dance. Together they tasted one another, angling their mouths simultaneously to afford them better access. It was instinct.

Their bodies melded without thought or force. Buffy's hands trailed down his chest pulling up the sides of his shirt at his waist. He growled at her touch on his cool stomach, his own hands tangling in her hair, then moving impatiently to press into her hips, pulling her tightly against him. He wanted to touch her everywhere at once, wanted to feel her with every inch of himself.

Her thighs ground against his in an age-old rhythm they knew too well. It was easy for them. This part had always been so easy. He picked her up and moaned at the little whimper in her throat as her legs instinctively wrapped around him. Now he could feel the core of her heat pressed up against him, only a thin pair of satin panties and his jeans remained between them. She was so hot and Cor, she smelled so good. Like sex and life and all things feminine, all things Buffy. Spike sank to the white bed where he had found her, his hands moving under her bottom, sliding under the shirt to seek the heat of her skin. Buffy pulled away from his mouth only long enough to let out a long low mewl. Spike's mouth dropped open at the noise, his senses in overdrive. He fingers curled into the perfect lines of his stomach while his slid away from her bottom, trailing icy lines over her thighs until his fingers were tickling the edge of her panties. She returned to his mouth, both of them moaning into one another.

Spike was dizzy, he couldn't remember what he had meant to say or why the bloody hell he had waited so long at that door. He couldn't remember or think of anything but her. God she felt so good. Felt like a thousands years of torment would be worth it. He'd die twice more just to have this moment. Her panting breath all around him, her wanting him, needing him. It was more than it had ever been before. Even he could feel that. There was heart in this, maybe even love.

A bitter tickle crept into his mind. Maybe not. Maybe he was still the same moon-eyed poofter he was before.

"Wait," he said, wanting her to do anything but wait. But even still, fear ticked inside his chest, rattling like a once beating heart.

She looked into his eyes and saw the fear swirling in that beautiful azure gaze. With her forehead pressed against his, and her breath coming in ragged gasps, her heavy-lidded eyes waited impatiently for him to allow her to continue.

She didn't want to talk. He could see that now. Did she ever want to talk to him? Did she even like him? His own words from what seemed like an eternity ago echoed into his mind. And with a rush, he suddenly remembered where he was. Whose bed he was sitting on with this golden girl.

"Angel..." he said.

Her fingers twitched against his stomach, and something very cold and dull began to replace the heat of their passion on his skin. Her eyes caught his uncertainly "I know," she whimpered, her teeth seeking her bottom lip, to nibble it uncertainly, "I know this is all messed up."

"I can't do this all over again, luv," he said softly, hating himself for saying it, hating himself more because it was true. His love got stronger every time he looked at her, every time she sighed or said his name. The thought of her walking away again was worse than anything, worse than death. And now he had invited her to do it.

She sighed heavily, her eyes welling up again, "What have I done to you?" she whispered. "Why do you always come back to me?"

He knew his eyes answered her question so he said nothing. He remained silent, fear moving like a blade of ice over him as he waited for her response. Waited for the blow he had come for.

"I know you hate to think that Angel's always had my heart. I know that's probably torn you up in ways I never think about. But, Spike, I couldn't help that. I mean, he was my first love, my supposed soulmate."

Spike's eyes betrayed his anguish. If he had seen anything wooden and remotely sharp, he would have dusted himself to avoid any more of this. This kind of cruelty was beyond what he could take anymore. Her throat tightened as she watched his jaw clench and his eyes turn to flint. She understood his resolve not to cry, not to weaken in front of her. But this time he didn't need to fight it. Not once he understood her. She shook her tear stained face and continued with a lopsided smile, "Angel was always the guy I wanted. But somewhere along the way, you became the guy I always turned to."

He still wouldn't speak, afraid to read anything into her words. Hope had never been a friend to him. He needed to keep some grip on reality, a grip on the anger that was still seething beneath his pain.

"A long time ago you told me there was something between us," she sighed, "Well, you were right. I just always thought it was about the fight, about slaying. I knew I could count on you, I knew we cared about each other. But it was always about responsibility and duty. I never let it be about just me. Just you and me." Then she closed her eyes and traced the lines of his cheekbones reverently, fresh tears sliding over her soft cheeks. He stared at her beauty, trying to fight the flicker of possibility. But he couldn't. What she was saying was going to change things. It was the crumbs he had wanted for so damn long.

"And now?" he asked.

"Now I know what it's like to have you gone," she said quietly, taking a huge breath and dropping her voice even lower, "And the truth is, there isn't much 'me' without 'you' anymore."

Her lashes fluttered open to catch him a swirl of gold and green, and Spike would have sworn on his undead body that his soul did a flip inside him. And it was enough. Those seven words would keep him strong through any pain she could send his way. Those seven words were damn near as good as the three he had always wanted to hear. In some ways they were better. Spike's lips curved in a boyish smile, and he pushed that smile against her neck in a vain effort to hide his ridiculous joy. His lips nuzzled her skin, feeling the sweet pulse of her blood beneath his lips, taunting him.

Her fingers stroked through his hair while his tongue traced tempting lines along her flesh. It was driving him mad to smell and taste the closeness of her blood, but he couldn't seem to force himself to stop. Buffy suddenly pulled him back by his hair to stare into his eyes. She nodded once, her eyes clear and decisive, "Drink from me, Spike" she said.

Her words made hit him like a ball of fire in his groin, igniting tenderness into blazing passion. He groaned, resisting, but failing as the demon took his face.

"No," he said, but the demon stayed on him, "We could never hide that from Angel."

And it was such a bloody wanker thing to say, but he feared his Grandsire. Feared that if he knew, he would take her away, take this away. He was no fool. He might have stood some chance against Angel on his own, but not here, not surrounded by all of Peaches' allies.

He wanted her blood on his tongue so badly that the ache was consuming him. His jeans strained painfully across his hips at the thought, and he knew if she even grazed across him at that moment, he'd lose it like a schoolboy. But he could not drink from her right now. Right now he was too damn desperate to lose her. She was his link to life, to everything. He couldn't move without her, didn't want to.

"I am not his. I am mine. And this is mine to give to you," she said.

Spike's hands began to shake again. He shook his head vehemently, "It'll get you inside of me in a ways I'll never be able to turn from," he warned, but even as he resisted his fangs ached for her skin. He tried to push them back, but couldn't. The smell of her blood and the knowledge of her offer still lingered too strong in the air. He had never been much for willpower.

She nodded, and did the most unexpected thing he could have imagined. Her hands moved to softly caress his ridged forehead. Then her hot fingers slid over his fangs, sending a thousand frissons of heat through his system. A low growl purred at the back of his throat as his now golden eyes pored into her, "Yes," she whispered, "Yes, I hope it will because I'm not ever going to be ready for you to leave me behind again."

Spike returned a stare of wonder, his cool thumbs tracing the line of her jaw. Then he pressed his ridged forehead against hers, exhaling softly as their flesh touched in this most intimate of positions. The Vampire and the Slayer. Torn by a history of hate and lies. Bound by a connection that transcended it all.

"I can't leave you behind, Buffy. Not even when I die."

With those words, he tilted her neck and lowered his lips to drink from her. His fangs pierced her flesh carefully, the small vein he chose pouring slender streams of her blood into his mouth. The rush of sweet fire seared his body. His hands trembled where they held her. One swallow, and he was falling. One ring of her heartbeat pounding into his hungry veins and he knew that nothing in his long life would ever surpass this moment. For as he drank her in, he was tasting life, tasting the very energy of her soul.

His mouth against her neck was like nothing Buffy had ever known. She had been fed from before, but this was different. There was something so powerful about connecting to him in this way. His mouth moved hard and slow against her, making her heart throb in every limb, building heat between her legs with every beat. He whimpered softly like a starving man as he sucked, his fingers pressing and kneading desperately against her waist. It was a strange contradiction to the slow cadence of his mouth. She felt him everywhere. His passion, his recklessness, his laughter, and most of all his love, absolute and overwhelming. And not for Dru, not for anyone else. For her. Only her. It was as if every tiny sound, every tremble in his body screamed her name over and over.

Buffy wanted more, wanted him inside her and through her. Wanted to continue pulsing into him and back until the end of time. She couldn't get enough. There was no fear, no pain. Only pleasure and intimacy. For that moment, something deep and dark within her understood the vampire, understood this need in a way that made her throb all over. She whimpered with him, pulling him closer with every swallow. He could have bled her to death right there and all of her body longed for it.

Spike felt the fluttering in her heart, knew she was weakening just a touch. It was time to stop. And though it was like wrenching himself from heaven, he dragged his mouth away from her neck with a roar. Then he collapsed on her shoulder, panting as if she had been the one feeding on him. But she understood this, somehow. Her strong hands held his shaking body while she made soft noises to soothe him. His tears stained her shirt while his hands knotted in the thin cotton fabric of her shirt.

"I love you," he said, needing to say it, needing her to know he still did. Always did.

"No you don't, but thanks for saying it," she said softly.

He lifted his eyes in human visage, pain carving deep hollows in his beautiful face. Her fingers reached for his jaw and she smiled kindly.

"Or would it be better if I just believed you? Believed you could love me? Believed you meant what you said?" she said.

He nodded slowly, his tongue still tingling from the taste of her blood. And then he understood. The cave. She meant it. He had his answer. A hesitant smile tipped the corners of his sensuous mouth and he caught her in an impulsive kiss.

There were so many questions, still so many things unanswered. But for now it was enough. For now, he just wanted to curl against her warm body and watch her as long as she'd let him. Tomorrow they could try to figure this mess out. For tonight, the chaos was fine.

--END