Set Fire to the Rain

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She'd always avoided patrolling during rain. Ever since her seventeenth birthday. She was self-aware enough to know why, deny it though she would. Bad associations, right?

Even now, even after the interlude in the jungle that had left her with far more pleasant associations, she still felt uncomfortable leaving the house at night if there was the barest hint of rain.

It wasn't a problem in Sunnydale.

It was a hell of a problem in London.

It had poured every night for the last week, and promised to rain every night for the next. Sure, they'd be back to Sunnydale soon enough, but that didn't solve her current problem.

Spike was still looking at her expectantly. "We going to head out tonight, love? Don't have much more time to catch that bugger. Be a shame to miss out on the reward."

"I…" Nothing else came out.

"You still not feeling well?" he asked, brow furrowed, concerned.

She couldn't pull it off again tonight. Could she?

With a sigh, she reached for her boots. "Nah, I'm fine. Come on, let's go earn our keep."

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Every drop of rain made her flinch, every splatter left her ready to flee back to the hotel, back to safety. She gritted her teeth. It was time to Slayer up, move past her fears.

The rain grew more insistent, as if to force her to cave.

Buffy pushed her sodden hair out of her face, miserable. "You have any idea where to start?"

"Right here," Spike said, taking her by the shoulder and tipping her face up to his. He pressed his mouth to hers, gentle but insistent. Her lips were so chilled that his felt warm in comparison. Their softness drew her in, almost made her forget. "You want to tell me about it?" he asked when she drew away.

"No?"

His face closed off, hurt, and she felt like a dick as he twisted away, ready to walk on, but her hand found his arm, stopped him. His muscles tensed under her fingers, and he tipped his head, watched her, waited on her move.

Her free hand found his chest, pectorals clearly visible through the wet t-shirt plastered to his skin. She traced each curve through the soaked fabric, her other hand moving upwards to tangle in his dripping curls. The rain had collected in his lashes, making them even longer and darker than usual. A raindrop rolled down his nose, splattering onto her upturned face.

"You're awfully cute when you're all wet," she said.

"Was hoping for sexy, but I'll take it."

Buffy looked down at the very obvious bulge straining his wet jeans, then back up at his face. "That too."

His hands were sliding over her body now, heating her flesh through her own clinging clothes. "You're bloody gorgeous."

"Drowned rat," she countered.

"Bloody gorgeous drowned rat," he insisted.

She stared into his eyes. "You love me."

"You know I do." She did. He wouldn't hurt her, wouldn't leave her. Wouldn't lose the soul he didn't have. Why?

She found it didn't matter. The warmth in her belly grew, spread through her body, out to the tips of her fingers and toes, chasing away the shivering, chasing away the fear.

The rain felt different now. Good on her burning flesh. She peered around, suddenly on fire with need for him, but no one else was fool enough to be out tonight. The cemetery was all theirs.

Buffy stepped back, looked into his eyes. Peeled off her jacket, then her shirt.

Relished the feel of the rain against her bare skin.

"Come on Big Bad," she said, her voice husky, her desire heightened by the naked lust in his. "Wanna see if we can set fire to the rain?"

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Only Happy When it Rains

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He noticed a trend in the following weeks. A rash of jobs in rain-soaked places. Kauai. The Colombian rain forest. Monsoon season in Thailand. She was no longer an indoor Slayer when it rained. Something had changed.

The moment that first drop hit, she shed her inhibitions like an outer skin, became someone born anew.

Free.

It was liberating at first. He'd been such a good little vamp. Been the man she needed him to be. But now she wanted to play on the dark side, try on his world, and that was okay by him.

There were experiments in techniques he couldn't spell and positions that had no name and games that his sire would have enjoyed, nothing holding his Slayer back but the limits of their imagination. Just the scent of rain was enough now to make him so hard he couldn't walk straight, couldn't think straight.

She was the willing instigator, so he didn't worry, happily going along with whatever she wanted to try. Pain and blood and sex? Vampire here. No complaining from him. It was mixed in with enough loving touches and tender glances to set his mind at ease.

What worried him was the rest of it. Shoplifting here, B&E there. Picking fights with Colombian drug lords because she could. Destruction of property for the thrill of it. Never anything that crossed the line, but when he was the one holding the moral compass, the one saying 'no', well.

Wasn't right, was it?

He loved her too much for that.