Purple Goo and Classroom Floors

"Spike."

"Slayer."

Adversaries locked gazes across the demolished classroom. All around was blood and chaos, but Buffy didn't look away from the demon she'd discovered holding a dead student. "I thought you'd left Sunnydale," she gritted.

"And I thought the Great Poof had sent you off to the big Slayerland in the sky."

"World's still here, isn't it?"

"That it is." He dropped the boy and shook off his vampiric visage. "So where is the almighty Angelus?"

Buffy schooled her features to show him nothing. "In hell."

"You don't say."

There was no way was she going to let him know how much talking about Angel affected her. "Why don't you tell him 'hi' for me when you see him?"

"Not planning on that any time soon, love."

Buffy tightened the grip on her stake and took a took a step toward him. "Plans can change." Another step. "Why are you back, Spike?"

He tilted his head and smirked at her, "Got bored. South America is overrun with those hulking ugly Chaos demons and such. Besides, it's bloody hot down there and I didn't have any cute little Slayers to kill."

Buffy continued to stalk slowly toward him. "You're not going to kill me Spike."

"Like hell."

"I think hell can definitely be arranged." Without warning she jumped, aiming the heel of her boot at his chin. He somehow managed to dodge her attack and she found herself flat on the floor with the remains of a broken desk digging into her back.

He bent over to peer into her face, "Missed me, cutie."

She jumped to her feet and spun to face him. He struck out with his fist, Knocking her stake loose. She heard it strike the wall and plink uselessly to the floor. He pushed her to the wall and anchored her there with his body. She struggled to find leverage to push him away, but she was completely off balance. The only thing holding her upright was the pressure of his chest and his... Her eyes widened in shock as she felt his arousal against her belly. "Let me go!"

His grin full of malice, he leaned in to run his smooth, damp tongue over the throbbing artery in her neck. She heard the silky whisper of his voice. "D'you know why I really came back here, Slayer?"

"No." She didn't recognize her own voice. It was breathy and high-pitched, not firm and Slayerly at all.

"I came back," he moved his head to whisper in her other ear, "Because Dru said I was obsessed with you, and I wanted to prove her wrong."

Buffy closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath, but found that simple task nearly impossible. She didn't want to say the words, but they seemed to fall from her lips anyway, "Was… was she...?" Buffy opened her eyes and swallowed nervously, "Was she wrong?"

He pulled back slightly to look directly into her face and all she could see was the rich blueness of his eyes. "Well I don't know that yet, now do I?" he asked her lightly. "But I think I should find out."

Her breath seemed to catch and burn inside her chest as he moved impossibly closer and his lips scarcely brushed against hers, soft and tasting not at all like the dead thing that he was. She gasped and his tongue flicked softly across her upper lip before his teeth grazed the warmth there.

"You just killed someone," she protested against his mouth.

"That I did," he answered, and claimed her lips fully.

Buffy tried to remind herself of all the reasons she should be killing him instead of letting him ravish her mouth. She hated him. He was a murderer and a monster. He had a girlfriend. What was the matter with her? How could she respond to him like this? He tasted like blood and darkness and, strangely, of blooming onion. "Stop," she managed gasp between slow deep kisses, even as her arms found their freedom and wound up and around his neck. "I can't stand you."

"Me either," he mumbled against her hot skin. "Can't stand you, I mean. I bleeding hate you, Slayer." He moved his hand up her ribcage and rubbed his palm against the side of her breast.

"I hate you more!" She grasped his shoulders and pulled her body into full contact with his. She mashed her mouth against his and barely noticed when he lifted her away from the wall to place her on the floor. Arms clasped bodies like iron bands and fingers raked through hair. Hips writhed and legs entwined as tongues dueled and tasted, then tasted again. Spike rolled onto his back and dragged her on top of him, frantically ripping at her buttons.

"Ohhh, god," she moaned.

Spike leered into her flushed face. "So much for the heartbroken girl," he gloated.

Buffy felt as though she'd just been doused with ice water. What was she doing? This was Spike! He was... he was... Ugh! She pushed his hands away from her shirt and reared back in horror. She groped around frantically looking for... Ah, there! She found part of a broken table and grasped it tightly, ignoring the splinters digging into her palm. She brought it sharply down toward his chest, her thrust broken by his cold hand on her wrist.

"You don't want to do that, pet."

"Try me!" she spat out at him. "You're a monster. You broke in here and destroyed everything. You killed that student."

"What student?" he asked in apparent dismay.

"Don't you even try to play innocent with me."

"Love, I'm anything but innocent, but I haven't killed any students. And I didn't mess up your ruddy school either."

"What about him?" Buffy glanced toward the spot where she'd seen the boy fall. All she found was a puddle that looked like grape Jello. Confusion filled her expression. "Where...?"

"Ranshakh demon. Once they're dead they turn into that flotsam you see there."

Buffy rose and moved over to the puddle. She heard Spike stand and move up behind her.

"Don't get too close, love. Stuff smells like month old piss."

"Ugh!" Buffy stepped back and bumped into the chest she'd been clawing a few moments before. She jumped away and spun toward him, raising her makeshift stake warningly. "What was that thing, that Ransack demon, doing here?" She narrowed her gaze at him. "And what were you doing here?"

"I already told you. I came here to see you, because of..."

"Because of what Drusilla said," she finished.

"That's right." He sounded like he was talking to a child. It really ticked her off. He must have sensed her mood because he sighed and raised his hands in truce. "Look, Dru and me, well, we haven't been getting on so well. Then she came up with this bit of rot about you and I decided to look you up and see what she was going on about." He gestured absently toward the destroyed room. "I found the slimy bloke hiding in here and decided to get him out of the way for you."

Buffy lowered her stake and raised her brows skeptically.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Fine. I didn't know he was here and he attacked me." He smirked. "Put up a good fight too."

"I can see that," Buffy noted.

"Fine, then," Spike said. "I guess I'll be going." He turned and moved toward the classroom door with his loose stride. "So long, Buffy."

She didn't answer him. She was lost in thought as she stared at the purple goo that seemed to becoming looser and wetter with the passage of time.

"What is it?" he asked.

"This stuff," Buffy nodded toward the slime. "Is it... does it...?"

"What?"

"Can it... can it make you do stuff?" she looked up at him imploringly. "Stuff you wouldn't normally do?"

Spike smiled silkily and moved toward her. "Oh, I see. You mean stuff like...?"

"Don't say it," Buffy warned.

Spike stopped and studied her, a bemused expression transforming his face into something Buffy had never seen before. It wasn't at all unpleasant. In the next instant it was gone, and Spike had stepped back into the doorway, a smirk and jaunty tilt replacing the softness that had been so fleetingly present. "I can't really say," he answered her. "There isn't much that I wouldn't do." He turned his back and sauntered out the doorway. "You'll have to suss that one out for yourself, sweet." And then he was gone.

Buffy stood quietly in the empty room, trying not to think about what had almost happened. Finally she moved, circling warily around the now liquid pool in the center of the room. She stopped once to retrieve her stake, and then once more when she finally reached the door. She turned to glance at the far wall and the floor below where she had very nearly done the unthinkable.

Who was she kidding? She had done the unthinkable. But there were two thoughts that made facing the next day bearable. Nobody else would ever know because Spike was probably as unlikely to tell anyone about this as she was, and this would never, never ever happen again. Ever.

She emitted a sigh of relief and left the room holding on to that last hopeful thought.

The End