Still the same disclaimer as always, none of this belongs to me..sigh. I
tried, but nobody at ME would listen.
Anyway, this chapter's finally got a little bit more Spuffiness, so enjoy!
Chapter Six: Only Happy When It Rains ************************************************************************
The sun had set an hour ago, but the full moon was not visible, obscured by heavy clouds who were actively pouring rain down. Indifferent to the downpour, the Slayer sat alone in the graveyard, listlessly twirling a stake between her fingers and reading the stones around her. Those stones with meaningful messages for loved ones, now rotting corpses who couldn't care less. Unless they had died of mysterious neck trauma, in which case they would eventually be dusted. She wondered idly if vampires ever read what had been written in their memory when they rose. Or maybe they just defaced their tombstone, destructive even as fledglings.
She sniffled again, the thoughts of vampires inevitably leading to Angel. Tonight had been one crying jag after another, interrupted by the dusting of a vamp or two. She was no mood for a quick merciful slay tonight, pummeling them furiously before staking them in the heart. It looked like tears were about to come on again and by now she had no heart to resist them. She still couldn't believe the possibility that she would kill Angel again. No, it was Angelus now. She had purposely neglected to tell her friends that she and Spike were taking her lover on tonight. Willow would be sweet, try to rely on her magic to make things better and only make it worse. She couldn't turn to them, not this time. Overcome by the weight of the past and shadows of the future, Buffy buried her head in her hands, silent tears trickling down her face.
A hand rested suddenly on the back of her neck, but made no further move, waiting for her to stir from her crouch. When she didn't, the hand touching her began to knead the muscles of her neck and upper back, strong fingers easing some of the ache she carried with her. Whoever it was knew what they were about, causing her to arch her neck back to heighten the relief the massage brought. She looked up, expecting to see Xander, or even some stranger who happened to be in the cemetery after hours. It wasn't. Surprised, she dashed a hand across her watery eyes, hoping they weren't too red. It would probably be one of the highlights of her intruder's unlife to see the Slayer crying.
"You alright, luv?" Spike asked, staring at the ground to avoid the look of disgust she was likely shooting at him. He had just been trying to get her attention, was all. Right. "I figured we were meeting at your mum's house, but she said you hadn't been there, so I looked in here."
"Yeah, sorry." Buffy muttered, pretending as hard as the vampire that no touching or massage had occurred. "I got caught up in something else."
"Are you crying?" her fighting partner incredulously demanded to know, finally having looked her in the face.
"No, I am not," she protested, acutely embarrassed.
"Right, and some rainwater is making your eyes all red and puffy," Spike scoffed, slicking his soaked hair back. "You look like a drowned rat."
"Yeah, well, I'm real upset because I haven't managed to find another pussy- whipped shag buddy," she snapped, remembering the insult he had dealt her the night before. "And I'm sure you look real tall, pale and handsome yourself when you cry!"
"Me cry?" he raised a brow, his rich laughter temporarily dampening her anger. Had she just called him handsome? The vampire smirked at her, unable to apologize about his angry comment before he had set the record straight. "My type doesn't cry."
The diabolical smile he shot her with that comment made Buffy smile and finally laugh. That tiny giggle soon exploded into a sneeze and a coughing fit. The two of them were drenched from the rain, but it was bothering her a lot more than it was him.
"Let's move indoors, shall we?" Spike gallantly suggested, gesturing at his soaked clothes. "Come on, luv, my leather coat is getting all wet."
"I swear that duster is more important to you than." the Slayer shivered, unable to finish her sentence before another sneeze came on.
He led her into a crypt and managed to coax her into sitting down. Vigorously shaking the excess water from his coat and hair, the resulting spray of water barely missed her. He ignored her little snort of indignation.
"What are you doing?" she asked him from her perch on a sarcophagus, slightly panicked as he began pulling his t-shirt off.
"Wringing it out." Spike answered with a quick flick of the eyes in her direction as he did so, a expression that obviously thought her a prude . "Sorry about ruining your sense of modesty, I just don't like wet clothes."
"Are your pants next?" Buffy murmured, examining her shoelaces to avoid further peeking at his toned chest and six-pack. If he was going to strip in front of her without warning, she'd give him discomfort as well. The trick was to not get burned with the same match.
"Uh." was his response, rather disconcerted at what he thought he heard in the Slayer's voice.
"Let me guess, your monosyllabic response is an attempt to be broody?" she sweetly smiled, her lips strained from the effort of not laughing at the surprise on his face.
Two could play his damned game. But then his face sobered, recalling the insult-fest from the night before. Well, she had deliberately brought it up again, but the sudden blanching of his already-pale face affected her more than she had meant. She could sort of see how she had pissed him off so much the other night. They both felt waves of contrition wash over them for the way they had acted, and so apologized accordingly.
"Sorry for what I said." Spike started calmly, inwardly cursing his temper.
"I'm sorry I questioned you." Buffy finished quietly, wishing she wasn't such a bitch.
The simultaneous statements took a while to sink in, but the vampire broke the silence.
"I think the shock of you apologizing started my heart beating again!" the bleached blonde said sarcastically, then watching her face cloud over with something like regret, swiftly replaced by irritation. He just couldn't keep his mouth shut, could he?
"You're hopeless!" she screeched in frustration, getting up and pacing around the room. "It's a waste of my time to even."
"Oh, shut it. Apology accepted." Spike gruffly offered, absentmindedly twisting his black shirt.
She immediately stopped her rant, looking as though she had been slapped upside the head. She hadn't really thought until then that they could be anything resembling friends. Enemies definitely, allies on a good day, but friends? It seemed impossible, but he had made an overture, at least willing to respect her. And for once it wasn't the kind of respect that came from wanting to kick her ass into next week or from wanting a favor.
Spike watched her with a mild expression, taking in every detail of her tired face. The worry he saw there was overwhelming even to watch, and he couldn't fathom how the Slayer handled it. The wisps of damp hair and smeared mascara, rather than making her akin to a drowned rat, only emphasized the loneliness on her face. No, lonely wasn't even the right word. More like forlorn. His intuition was screaming at him that she needed compassion and he might as well give it while they were under the pretense of being friendly. So he stepped over to where she had stopped pacing and put a hand on her shoulder, its weight comforting.
Beyond the point of caring if he snapped her neck next, Buffy leaned up against his bare chest, needing a moment of rest more than he needed to be temperamental about every word she said. To her amazement, he pulled her in closer for a brief hug. She let his arms rest on her back, burying her face in his chest, inhaling deeply. The mutual embrace only lasted a moment before they pulled away, seeming to know the very instant when they stopped thinking about how pleasant it was and began to wonder what they were doing.
"What happened to hating me second most of all?" she asked him, smoothing down her matted blonde hair.
He didn't answer at first, his eyes gleaming with something inscrutable. How was he supposed to explain himself to her when he didn't even have a clue? He sat down on the sarcophagus with a sigh.
"You were crying," the silver-haired vamp explained finally, as if that were the answer to everything. "Why? And no lies this time, Slayer."
"Buffy," she said firmly, sitting next to him on the stone.
"Buffy." Spike acquiesced with a imperceptible smile, letting her continue.
"I don't know if I can do it again." Buffy began with a weak twitch of her lips. "Kill Angel. And this time it would be for good."
"Can't resurrect ash." Spike grimly pointed out, expression deliberately empty of any emotion.
"Oh, I know you had the whole stake-Angel plan," she sighed almost contritely. "But you might have noticed my lack of enthusiasm."
"I wouldn't want to dust Dru either," the vampire agreed sympathetically.
"But you would if you had to!" the Slayer shouted, perilously close to crying again. His only answer was a steady gaze back at her, telling her nothing and yet everything. He could do it, and somehow that angered her. It made her believe she too could find his strength, and she still wasn't sure she wanted to. "And you're not the one who made the same stupid mistake for a second time! You didn't create a monster!"
"No, I just am one," he said seriously, his blue eyes vaguely sad.
"You aren't the worst of your species, Spike." Buffy admitted with a groan, burying her head in her hands. "And keep a check on your ego, you are dangerous. Just more rational than some others I could mention."
"So you aren't threatened by me?" the platinum blonde asked with amusement and a dangerous glint in his eye.
She did have a point though. As unpredictable as vamps like Angelus were, that made them somehow easier to stop if you got near them. Predictable because you already are expecting anything from them, and have come prepared. Sense had some use after all.
"Don't even get me started on that," the petite Slayer mumbled from her slouched position.
"Oh, please do." Spike smirked, folding his arms over his shirtless chest, and certain this rant would be worth listening to.
"I can't understand why I never come out on top with you." Buffy confessed, her face creasing up when he gave her a measuring look. "You know what I mean, stop being dirty. When we fight, when we argue, it's always a stalemate. Everything about you confuses me and."
"You should start worrying about yourself, pet," he cut her off pointedly, placing a hand firmly over her mouth. "I learned just about all I know from him."
They both knew who 'him' was, and the short respite their discussion had gained them disappeared, crushed under the weight of apocalypse. Spike looked at her again, at her bedraggled state and the golden hair pooling on her shoulders. Her hazel eyes were tired, despairing, and as his blue gaze softened in response, her face filled with a sudden need, nervously looking away from him as if to hide. This moment had been building up all night.
He leaned forward and lightly kissed her, meaning it only to be brush across the lips so she didn't slap him too hard. But she immediately deepened it, tentatively placing her hands at the nape of his neck. Her mouth was in no way hesitant, aggressively kissing him like she could taste truth and comfort on his tongue. Unable to avoid the heady feeling of her mouth on his, he finally joined in passionately, running his hands across her shoulders. The force behind the kiss amazed them both, and they let it continue, daring to see how high the power would take them. It screamed through their veins, demanding and brutal.
Soon the bruising nature of their kiss lightened, a subtle change as his lips ceased to plunder hers, instead teasing her mouth gently, cherishing the moment. She responded with a tantalizing exploration of her own, completely lost in the spicy scent of his skin. His hands moved down her slim body, feeling her up roughly in contrast to the emotional kiss, but she didn't care, her hunger desperate. She finally understood what it meant to have your body be the only anchor holding you in life, and for once was glad it held her here, allowing her such feeling.
He pulled away gradually, giving a final nibble on her lower lip and letting her come up for air. The vampire moved his arms from where they had wrapped around her torso. They stood at arms length, a comfortable distance for the thinking they had to do.
"Wow." Buffy broke the silence, touching her swollen lips with a flustered amazement, eyes still lost and dreamy. "What was that?"
"Snogging." Spike breathed, thinking that her 'wow' was an understatement. This was the last thing he had thought would happen tonight, and suddenly it was the only thing he wanted to occur.
"Spike, I." she managed to say before he was on her again, viciously swamping her senses with closeness and a tongue that had more uses than shooting off witticisms.
It only took her a instant to register that they were at it again, her arms already snaking around his waist to rest on his muscled back. God, he was half-naked! And there was something else they were supposed to be doing, but as their tongues dueled, she couldn't for the life of her remember what. Spike was aggressive, and she hadn't had a kiss like that since.
"Angel!" Buffy cried as she pushed herself away from the bleached blonde vampire. He was stunned to see her in tears when only seconds ago she had been moaning against his mouth. "Spike, I can't do this with you. I love Angel. We both know that."
Frustrated, he stepped away, still able to sense the arousal in the air, but knowing that the concern in her eyes was more important. The vampire quickly tried to collect himself and only could decide that he was surprised. He hadn't meant to get out of control, and hadn't tried to. At first. She had started the heavy kissing and petting session, got his blood up, and now was upset with him? He could only take so much of her hypocrisy. Pulling his t-shirt back on, he confronted the Slayer.
"That.that was for good luck," he angrily explained, effectively masking the little bit of hurt and stir of new feelings. "Which I believe you'll be needing, because you've taken leave of your senses. I'll remind you that Angelus is out for your blood."
"When isn't he?" she snapped in reaction to his harsh tone.
Spike stared at her, unable to believe she was overlooking the fact that Angelus was hunting for her so that he could open the Forbidden Book. He would have thought she'd take the damn apocalypse seriously, but he had underestimated her hormones and attraction to his grandsire. Buffy glared right back, wondering when exactly her ally had turned into Captain Obvious. Of course Angel would want to drink her blood, she was the entrée of choice worldwide. What the hell was Spike talking about?
"Well, since you want him, it looks like I've helped you out for the last time. Cheers," the vampire bitterly told her, pacing around the crypt in frustration, trying to figure himself out. Why the hell was he worried about what happened to her?
"What?" she responded blankly, still avidly wishing his skillful lips were worshiping hers.
"I'll see you at the mansion when you've cleaned up." Spike said dismissively, letting his eyes slide insultingly over her soaked self. A cruel smile flickered over his lips. "Thanks for the good time."
He blew her a mocking kiss and strode out into the now-clear skies, completely missing the hurt look that flashed through her eyes. But it faded as she realized her role in tonight's activities. As usual she had been quick to chastise Spike, but she had been the one who started it all. Well, her and the view of his chest, but that wasn't quite his fault. Her musings were getting her nowhere except the realization that he had been a big help, soul or not. Could he lose the soul? From the way he had stormed away from her, she was given the distinct impression he would do anything to get rid of it and shove that fact in her face right before he killed her.
Couldn't blame him really. He was the true definition of a desirable ally, but she had completely screwed everything up. This wasn't unusual for Buffy, but she needed to make things right for once instead of driving people away. She had taken enough chances in her life. What difference did one more make? She still wasn't sure what would come of this, but her mind was made up. She recklessly jumped to her feet and ran outside, hoping to catch her fighting partner before his fuming pace took him out of earshot.
She was prepared to shout the vampire's name, her legs tensed to begin a chase, but the effort faded as Angelus emerged from a nearby crypt. She eyed him warily, aware now that she had been too miserable to heed Spike's warnings.
"Hey, Buffy." Angelus smiled gently, playing like he still had the soul.
"I know you're back to bad," the Slayer told him, her lips quivering slightly.
Angelus grinned wickedly, his entire face and attitude changing. Buffy just glared at him, preparing to run. She didn't get the chance. Striking swiftly, he hit her once across the face, hard enough to knock her out.
"That's good," he told no one in particular as he picked up her crumpled form and left the graveyard. "I've never been good at subtlety." **************************************************************************** ****** OK, everyone, I just about have the next chapter done, so hopefully that will be up soon since I've had more time to write than usual. Thanks for reviews! -CenizaAzul
Anyway, this chapter's finally got a little bit more Spuffiness, so enjoy!
Chapter Six: Only Happy When It Rains ************************************************************************
The sun had set an hour ago, but the full moon was not visible, obscured by heavy clouds who were actively pouring rain down. Indifferent to the downpour, the Slayer sat alone in the graveyard, listlessly twirling a stake between her fingers and reading the stones around her. Those stones with meaningful messages for loved ones, now rotting corpses who couldn't care less. Unless they had died of mysterious neck trauma, in which case they would eventually be dusted. She wondered idly if vampires ever read what had been written in their memory when they rose. Or maybe they just defaced their tombstone, destructive even as fledglings.
She sniffled again, the thoughts of vampires inevitably leading to Angel. Tonight had been one crying jag after another, interrupted by the dusting of a vamp or two. She was no mood for a quick merciful slay tonight, pummeling them furiously before staking them in the heart. It looked like tears were about to come on again and by now she had no heart to resist them. She still couldn't believe the possibility that she would kill Angel again. No, it was Angelus now. She had purposely neglected to tell her friends that she and Spike were taking her lover on tonight. Willow would be sweet, try to rely on her magic to make things better and only make it worse. She couldn't turn to them, not this time. Overcome by the weight of the past and shadows of the future, Buffy buried her head in her hands, silent tears trickling down her face.
A hand rested suddenly on the back of her neck, but made no further move, waiting for her to stir from her crouch. When she didn't, the hand touching her began to knead the muscles of her neck and upper back, strong fingers easing some of the ache she carried with her. Whoever it was knew what they were about, causing her to arch her neck back to heighten the relief the massage brought. She looked up, expecting to see Xander, or even some stranger who happened to be in the cemetery after hours. It wasn't. Surprised, she dashed a hand across her watery eyes, hoping they weren't too red. It would probably be one of the highlights of her intruder's unlife to see the Slayer crying.
"You alright, luv?" Spike asked, staring at the ground to avoid the look of disgust she was likely shooting at him. He had just been trying to get her attention, was all. Right. "I figured we were meeting at your mum's house, but she said you hadn't been there, so I looked in here."
"Yeah, sorry." Buffy muttered, pretending as hard as the vampire that no touching or massage had occurred. "I got caught up in something else."
"Are you crying?" her fighting partner incredulously demanded to know, finally having looked her in the face.
"No, I am not," she protested, acutely embarrassed.
"Right, and some rainwater is making your eyes all red and puffy," Spike scoffed, slicking his soaked hair back. "You look like a drowned rat."
"Yeah, well, I'm real upset because I haven't managed to find another pussy- whipped shag buddy," she snapped, remembering the insult he had dealt her the night before. "And I'm sure you look real tall, pale and handsome yourself when you cry!"
"Me cry?" he raised a brow, his rich laughter temporarily dampening her anger. Had she just called him handsome? The vampire smirked at her, unable to apologize about his angry comment before he had set the record straight. "My type doesn't cry."
The diabolical smile he shot her with that comment made Buffy smile and finally laugh. That tiny giggle soon exploded into a sneeze and a coughing fit. The two of them were drenched from the rain, but it was bothering her a lot more than it was him.
"Let's move indoors, shall we?" Spike gallantly suggested, gesturing at his soaked clothes. "Come on, luv, my leather coat is getting all wet."
"I swear that duster is more important to you than." the Slayer shivered, unable to finish her sentence before another sneeze came on.
He led her into a crypt and managed to coax her into sitting down. Vigorously shaking the excess water from his coat and hair, the resulting spray of water barely missed her. He ignored her little snort of indignation.
"What are you doing?" she asked him from her perch on a sarcophagus, slightly panicked as he began pulling his t-shirt off.
"Wringing it out." Spike answered with a quick flick of the eyes in her direction as he did so, a expression that obviously thought her a prude . "Sorry about ruining your sense of modesty, I just don't like wet clothes."
"Are your pants next?" Buffy murmured, examining her shoelaces to avoid further peeking at his toned chest and six-pack. If he was going to strip in front of her without warning, she'd give him discomfort as well. The trick was to not get burned with the same match.
"Uh." was his response, rather disconcerted at what he thought he heard in the Slayer's voice.
"Let me guess, your monosyllabic response is an attempt to be broody?" she sweetly smiled, her lips strained from the effort of not laughing at the surprise on his face.
Two could play his damned game. But then his face sobered, recalling the insult-fest from the night before. Well, she had deliberately brought it up again, but the sudden blanching of his already-pale face affected her more than she had meant. She could sort of see how she had pissed him off so much the other night. They both felt waves of contrition wash over them for the way they had acted, and so apologized accordingly.
"Sorry for what I said." Spike started calmly, inwardly cursing his temper.
"I'm sorry I questioned you." Buffy finished quietly, wishing she wasn't such a bitch.
The simultaneous statements took a while to sink in, but the vampire broke the silence.
"I think the shock of you apologizing started my heart beating again!" the bleached blonde said sarcastically, then watching her face cloud over with something like regret, swiftly replaced by irritation. He just couldn't keep his mouth shut, could he?
"You're hopeless!" she screeched in frustration, getting up and pacing around the room. "It's a waste of my time to even."
"Oh, shut it. Apology accepted." Spike gruffly offered, absentmindedly twisting his black shirt.
She immediately stopped her rant, looking as though she had been slapped upside the head. She hadn't really thought until then that they could be anything resembling friends. Enemies definitely, allies on a good day, but friends? It seemed impossible, but he had made an overture, at least willing to respect her. And for once it wasn't the kind of respect that came from wanting to kick her ass into next week or from wanting a favor.
Spike watched her with a mild expression, taking in every detail of her tired face. The worry he saw there was overwhelming even to watch, and he couldn't fathom how the Slayer handled it. The wisps of damp hair and smeared mascara, rather than making her akin to a drowned rat, only emphasized the loneliness on her face. No, lonely wasn't even the right word. More like forlorn. His intuition was screaming at him that she needed compassion and he might as well give it while they were under the pretense of being friendly. So he stepped over to where she had stopped pacing and put a hand on her shoulder, its weight comforting.
Beyond the point of caring if he snapped her neck next, Buffy leaned up against his bare chest, needing a moment of rest more than he needed to be temperamental about every word she said. To her amazement, he pulled her in closer for a brief hug. She let his arms rest on her back, burying her face in his chest, inhaling deeply. The mutual embrace only lasted a moment before they pulled away, seeming to know the very instant when they stopped thinking about how pleasant it was and began to wonder what they were doing.
"What happened to hating me second most of all?" she asked him, smoothing down her matted blonde hair.
He didn't answer at first, his eyes gleaming with something inscrutable. How was he supposed to explain himself to her when he didn't even have a clue? He sat down on the sarcophagus with a sigh.
"You were crying," the silver-haired vamp explained finally, as if that were the answer to everything. "Why? And no lies this time, Slayer."
"Buffy," she said firmly, sitting next to him on the stone.
"Buffy." Spike acquiesced with a imperceptible smile, letting her continue.
"I don't know if I can do it again." Buffy began with a weak twitch of her lips. "Kill Angel. And this time it would be for good."
"Can't resurrect ash." Spike grimly pointed out, expression deliberately empty of any emotion.
"Oh, I know you had the whole stake-Angel plan," she sighed almost contritely. "But you might have noticed my lack of enthusiasm."
"I wouldn't want to dust Dru either," the vampire agreed sympathetically.
"But you would if you had to!" the Slayer shouted, perilously close to crying again. His only answer was a steady gaze back at her, telling her nothing and yet everything. He could do it, and somehow that angered her. It made her believe she too could find his strength, and she still wasn't sure she wanted to. "And you're not the one who made the same stupid mistake for a second time! You didn't create a monster!"
"No, I just am one," he said seriously, his blue eyes vaguely sad.
"You aren't the worst of your species, Spike." Buffy admitted with a groan, burying her head in her hands. "And keep a check on your ego, you are dangerous. Just more rational than some others I could mention."
"So you aren't threatened by me?" the platinum blonde asked with amusement and a dangerous glint in his eye.
She did have a point though. As unpredictable as vamps like Angelus were, that made them somehow easier to stop if you got near them. Predictable because you already are expecting anything from them, and have come prepared. Sense had some use after all.
"Don't even get me started on that," the petite Slayer mumbled from her slouched position.
"Oh, please do." Spike smirked, folding his arms over his shirtless chest, and certain this rant would be worth listening to.
"I can't understand why I never come out on top with you." Buffy confessed, her face creasing up when he gave her a measuring look. "You know what I mean, stop being dirty. When we fight, when we argue, it's always a stalemate. Everything about you confuses me and."
"You should start worrying about yourself, pet," he cut her off pointedly, placing a hand firmly over her mouth. "I learned just about all I know from him."
They both knew who 'him' was, and the short respite their discussion had gained them disappeared, crushed under the weight of apocalypse. Spike looked at her again, at her bedraggled state and the golden hair pooling on her shoulders. Her hazel eyes were tired, despairing, and as his blue gaze softened in response, her face filled with a sudden need, nervously looking away from him as if to hide. This moment had been building up all night.
He leaned forward and lightly kissed her, meaning it only to be brush across the lips so she didn't slap him too hard. But she immediately deepened it, tentatively placing her hands at the nape of his neck. Her mouth was in no way hesitant, aggressively kissing him like she could taste truth and comfort on his tongue. Unable to avoid the heady feeling of her mouth on his, he finally joined in passionately, running his hands across her shoulders. The force behind the kiss amazed them both, and they let it continue, daring to see how high the power would take them. It screamed through their veins, demanding and brutal.
Soon the bruising nature of their kiss lightened, a subtle change as his lips ceased to plunder hers, instead teasing her mouth gently, cherishing the moment. She responded with a tantalizing exploration of her own, completely lost in the spicy scent of his skin. His hands moved down her slim body, feeling her up roughly in contrast to the emotional kiss, but she didn't care, her hunger desperate. She finally understood what it meant to have your body be the only anchor holding you in life, and for once was glad it held her here, allowing her such feeling.
He pulled away gradually, giving a final nibble on her lower lip and letting her come up for air. The vampire moved his arms from where they had wrapped around her torso. They stood at arms length, a comfortable distance for the thinking they had to do.
"Wow." Buffy broke the silence, touching her swollen lips with a flustered amazement, eyes still lost and dreamy. "What was that?"
"Snogging." Spike breathed, thinking that her 'wow' was an understatement. This was the last thing he had thought would happen tonight, and suddenly it was the only thing he wanted to occur.
"Spike, I." she managed to say before he was on her again, viciously swamping her senses with closeness and a tongue that had more uses than shooting off witticisms.
It only took her a instant to register that they were at it again, her arms already snaking around his waist to rest on his muscled back. God, he was half-naked! And there was something else they were supposed to be doing, but as their tongues dueled, she couldn't for the life of her remember what. Spike was aggressive, and she hadn't had a kiss like that since.
"Angel!" Buffy cried as she pushed herself away from the bleached blonde vampire. He was stunned to see her in tears when only seconds ago she had been moaning against his mouth. "Spike, I can't do this with you. I love Angel. We both know that."
Frustrated, he stepped away, still able to sense the arousal in the air, but knowing that the concern in her eyes was more important. The vampire quickly tried to collect himself and only could decide that he was surprised. He hadn't meant to get out of control, and hadn't tried to. At first. She had started the heavy kissing and petting session, got his blood up, and now was upset with him? He could only take so much of her hypocrisy. Pulling his t-shirt back on, he confronted the Slayer.
"That.that was for good luck," he angrily explained, effectively masking the little bit of hurt and stir of new feelings. "Which I believe you'll be needing, because you've taken leave of your senses. I'll remind you that Angelus is out for your blood."
"When isn't he?" she snapped in reaction to his harsh tone.
Spike stared at her, unable to believe she was overlooking the fact that Angelus was hunting for her so that he could open the Forbidden Book. He would have thought she'd take the damn apocalypse seriously, but he had underestimated her hormones and attraction to his grandsire. Buffy glared right back, wondering when exactly her ally had turned into Captain Obvious. Of course Angel would want to drink her blood, she was the entrée of choice worldwide. What the hell was Spike talking about?
"Well, since you want him, it looks like I've helped you out for the last time. Cheers," the vampire bitterly told her, pacing around the crypt in frustration, trying to figure himself out. Why the hell was he worried about what happened to her?
"What?" she responded blankly, still avidly wishing his skillful lips were worshiping hers.
"I'll see you at the mansion when you've cleaned up." Spike said dismissively, letting his eyes slide insultingly over her soaked self. A cruel smile flickered over his lips. "Thanks for the good time."
He blew her a mocking kiss and strode out into the now-clear skies, completely missing the hurt look that flashed through her eyes. But it faded as she realized her role in tonight's activities. As usual she had been quick to chastise Spike, but she had been the one who started it all. Well, her and the view of his chest, but that wasn't quite his fault. Her musings were getting her nowhere except the realization that he had been a big help, soul or not. Could he lose the soul? From the way he had stormed away from her, she was given the distinct impression he would do anything to get rid of it and shove that fact in her face right before he killed her.
Couldn't blame him really. He was the true definition of a desirable ally, but she had completely screwed everything up. This wasn't unusual for Buffy, but she needed to make things right for once instead of driving people away. She had taken enough chances in her life. What difference did one more make? She still wasn't sure what would come of this, but her mind was made up. She recklessly jumped to her feet and ran outside, hoping to catch her fighting partner before his fuming pace took him out of earshot.
She was prepared to shout the vampire's name, her legs tensed to begin a chase, but the effort faded as Angelus emerged from a nearby crypt. She eyed him warily, aware now that she had been too miserable to heed Spike's warnings.
"Hey, Buffy." Angelus smiled gently, playing like he still had the soul.
"I know you're back to bad," the Slayer told him, her lips quivering slightly.
Angelus grinned wickedly, his entire face and attitude changing. Buffy just glared at him, preparing to run. She didn't get the chance. Striking swiftly, he hit her once across the face, hard enough to knock her out.
"That's good," he told no one in particular as he picked up her crumpled form and left the graveyard. "I've never been good at subtlety." **************************************************************************** ****** OK, everyone, I just about have the next chapter done, so hopefully that will be up soon since I've had more time to write than usual. Thanks for reviews! -CenizaAzul