Strip Snap by Lilachigh

The story so far: The day after her 21st birthday, Spike takes Buffy for a midnight picnic. Champagne, passion, violent storm, all combine to make Buffy question exactly what is normal behaviour.

Chp.5 Slayer and Souless

A log fell in the fireplace with a crackle and a shower of orange sparks. Buffy came to with a jolt, sitting up, eyes wide, trying to remember where she was. She ached all over - every limb, every muscle and, she felt herself going red, inside she was like liquid jelly. She remembered hearing some boys at school talking once when they didn't know anyone could hear them. "Shagged myself silly," one of them had said.

She hadn't realised what they meant until now. She gazed round. Spike's naked form was sprawled out next to her on the floor. He was fast asleep and she wasn't surprised. She'd lost count of the number of times they'd had sex during the night. But she had a vivid picture in her mind of the last time. Spike had been on his back, holding her shoulders above his in mid air while his feet kept her legs apart and off the ground while he made love to her. Only his vampire strength could have kept her suspended like that. Her climax, when it came, had been mind shattering and had gone on and on into oblivion.

And he called this behaviour normal?

But now - she rubbed at the bruises on her arms and stood up to look out of the window of the little log cabin. The storm had passed, the sky was clear and there were even a few stars around. But in the east the darkness was already fading to a dark purple. Before too long the sun would be up and they had to be home by then.

She gazed down at the sleeping vampire, at the muscles of his back, he tight cheeks of his butt. She was tempted to lie down again and indulge another fantasy, but time was passing even as she stood there. Instead she nudged Spike with her bare toe. "Hey, wake up. We've got to get going."

"Watch where you're putting that digit, sweetheart. I've been awake for minutes. Vampire hearing, remember?" He yawned, rolled over and got to his feet. "Ummm, what a night. I've got aches in my aches. When you ride a chap, you really ride him, Slayer. You OK, pet?"

Buffy nodded; she didn't know what to say. Was she OK? She had no idea what that meant any more. Physically she felt relaxed, sated, as feminine as she'd ever felt before in her life. But mentally - she couldn't untangle the feelings and emotions in her head. She seemed to have no way of putting them into words.

"Bloody hell, I suppose I'd better go and see if I can retrieve any of our clothes from the beach. I don't fancy driving back into Sunnydale just wearing a shortie towelling jacket, not even for you, sweetheart."

"OK, but don't be too long. Dawnie's sleeping over at Janice's and will go straight to school with her, but Willow and Tara will wonder where I am."

Standing stock still, Spike looked down at her, his blue eyes hidden by lowered lids, "And you still don't want them to know you're with me," he said and it was more a statement than a question.

Buffy hesitated. Was this the time to tell him that Tara knew about them? That she'd had to confess to someone; the burden had been unbearable and Tara had seemed so sympathetic.

Confess - that was a strange word to use, she thought suddenly. It made it sound as if she was doing something bad - not something amazing and fulfilling. And, of course, she was. She was sleeping with a souless vampire. Well, not a lot of sleeping happened, but okay, tonight had been different. They had actually slept together. Usually, just 'the sex', as Xander would have called it.

Lots and lots of 'the sex'. Mind shattering, body trembling, craving him every second of the day and night, wishing he was doing it to me right now, making me come and come and come – but she was the Slayer. Take away 'the sex' and the returning from the dead and everything else that had been happening, and, hey, still souless vampire and still Slayer.

Buffy shrugged, shivered and reached out to put some more wood on the dying fire. "There's no 'with', Spike. You know that. There's you and me, and sometimes we're in the same space at the same time and we have - fun. But no 'with'. How can there be? What do you want me to say to Willow and Xander? Oh guess what, after all these years of Spike being our mortal enemy and trying to kill us on numerous occasions, hey, we're a couple now! That's a really normal relationship to have, isn't it?

"And even if I did manage to tell them - what about you? I can just see you going into Willie's bar and announcing that your new girl friend is the Slayer. So let's all be friends. Because I'll still kill them, whenever and wherever I can. And you know that. So don't let's go pretending there's any 'with'." She picked up the poker and bashed the logs into flames once more. She didn't see the expression that flickered across his face. Something more than hurt, something less than acceptance.

Spike said no more. He unlocked the door and strode out into the dark and wet. The wind and rain had eased and all he wanted now was to find their rotten clothes and get the hell out of here.

He slashed at a bush as he passed, tearing off leaves in a frenzied shower. She really was a class-a bitch, this girl. So determined to be normal, when she never would be. So keen to feel and experience everything he could show her, but at the first sign of her emotions being involved, she backed away at the speed of light and built up that brick wall she hid behind in her mind as fast as she could. Every time he thought he'd knocked a way through, bam, there she was with another brick and mortar, filling in the gap and adding another layer on top as well.

Oh, he knew what was going through that feverish mind of hers, the drive to be normal that overcame everything else. Well, he'd been a few years older than Buffy when Dru had changed his life from normal forever. But only a few. It had never occurred to her that he knew exactly what she felt. That he might look back and wonder about normality.

"Not that I'd ever want to be back being that little shit William again," he swore to himself as he reached the beach and began to hunt for their clothes. "But at least you'd think she could see she isn't the only person in the whole world who's gone through this sort of life change.

"Don't suppose Oz wanted to be a werewolf. Hey, maybe Peaches dreams sometimes of what it would be like to be good old Liam again, getting drunk every night in Ireland without a care in the world, instead of brooding about every bloody thing that happens to him. Does Anya ever look back all those centuries and wonder about being a normal Scandinavian girl, living out a meagre peasant existence?"

He spotted his jeans lying where she'd thrown them under a rocky outcrop which had luckily saved them from the worst of the rain. With a struggle he managed to drag them on.

The white feather trimmed dress he'd bought for her to wear was a muddy mess, but he picked it up. Bit of soap and water might get the worst of the dirt off, but - that was weird - he wasn't quite sure why it was ripped up so much. He remembered pulling it down off her shoulders to get to the creamy mounds of her breasts, get his tongue wrapped round those little pink peaks that drove his mouth crazy. He vaguely recalled her wriggling out of it, the cries as she'd wrapped those powerful tanned legs round his waist.

But rips -

He lifted it to his nose and sniffed. Odd, although the rain had pounded it for a couple of hours, there was still an odour there. Only one demon left a scent like that. Tazksha. There was a bloody Tazksha somewhere on this island!

Buffy crouched over the smouldering fire, trying not to cry as she coaxed some little blue flames from the logs with the poker. Spike had gone back to the lake to find their clothes, angry at her terse statement that they could never be together in the way he wanted. Cold fresh air swirled through the half open door, cleansing the room of wood smoke and the lingering smell of the passion they'd indulged in all night.

"What on earth are you crying about, Summers?" she muttered to herself. "Spike isn't your boyfriend and never will be. He's useful and sexy and useful being sexy and you can't upset him because he doesn't have feelings like humans do. He's a vampire. Why can't you remember that?"

She heard a footfall behind her, but refused to turn and look at him. She didn't want to see the expression on his face. Then a dreadful smell flooded the room - a mixture of sour milk, bad eggs and rotten meat clogged her nose and throat. Coughing she spun round. Something was shuffling towards her - something sewage brown and rotting, its flesh lumpy and peeling. Eyes gleamed - three of them - from the ugliest face she'd ever seen on a demon.

And all the time, the dreadful, dreadful smell. She felt herself shaking - and forced a yell out of her mouth. "Spike! Spike!"

She backed away round the log cabin, her bare feet searching for a good grip on the wooden floor, kicking the rag rugs away as they threatened to trip her. The demon was wheezing and gasping, reaching out for her with long, wet hands, the flesh shedding off them in gobbets of filth.

Buffy realised she was still holding the poker and jabbed out with it, keeping the demon at bay. She knew instinctively she mustn't let that flesh touch hers. She could see that where the moisture hit the wooden floor, little burn marks were appearing. This demon was dripping acid. A leap took her on top of the table and a whirling lunge plunged the poker into its shoulder. it roared and backed away for a moment, then came back towards her again as Spike charged through the door.

"It's a Tazksha demon," he yelled. "Don't let it touch you, Buffy."

"I don't care if it's a doughnut demon, it stinks," Buffy shouted back. "At least you've got your pants on. I'd like to see you fighting it, wearing next to nothing."

She leapt off the table towards Spike, across the demon's head. Spike's hands reached out to catch her, even finding time to grin at the slim tanned legs flashing below the short towelling robe.

She pulled out of his grasp and swung the poker at the Tazksha again. This time she hit its head and it went down with a squelching roar. But as it fell, it lunged out with both hands. Buffy went to swerve aside, caught her bare foot in one of the rugs she'd earlier kicked aside and stumbled.

"Buffy!" In one swift movement, Spike pushed her away and took the full force of the dying demon on his bare chest. His yell of agony cut through Buffy, turning her stomach to water. She grabbed his arm and pulled him out from under the Tazksha but she could see that the damage had been done. Spike was unconscious, his bare chest and arms brutally burnt by the acid.

"Spike! Spike!" She dragged a cushion off a chair and thrust it gently under his head. "Stupid vampire," she muttered. "Couldn't dodge something that big and squelchy."

She could hear the tremble in her voice and see it in the hand she ran carefully down his cheek, thanking all the gods in all the dimensions that his face was untouched. If it had gone in his eyes - she felt sick. She knew vampires healed fast, as did Slayers, but she was pretty sure they couldn't grow new eyes.

"But why should I care," she whispered unhappily. "I don't understand." She stared down at the burn marks across the curves and planes of his chest. Only hours before she hadn't been able to get enough of touching him, her flesh craving the feel of his against it. And now -

A hissing sound made her look up to see the Tazksha dissolving into a brown, muddy puddle of filth, the acid draining away between the wooden floor boards.

The door creaked back and forth in the breeze. It was getting lighter outside. Dawn was here already and the sun would soon be far too bright for Spike.

Buffy stood up and hunted round the log cabin. It was easier to explore now there was some daylight. In the dark the night before, she hadn't noticed a small trunk tucked away on one side of the room. Inside were several bikinis and - joy of joys - a pair of shorts.

She shucked off the towelling jacket and pulled on a red bikini top and the white shorts. They were hideously tight but at least she felt half dressed and not quite so vulnerable.

Spike groaned and she spun round and sank to her knees beside him. "Spike - can you hear me?"

There was a long pause, then another groan, "Slayer...what the hell happened. Bloody hell, that hurts like - bloody hell!"

"Don't move. The demon fell against you. You've got burns all across your chest and arms - "

"No need to tell me that, sweetheart. Can tell from the pain. Observant like that, you know."

Buffy gave a silent sigh of relief. If he was being sarcastic already, he couldn't be that badly hurt - could he? "I have to thank you. You...you saved my life..."

Spike slowly opened his eyes a slit and tried to focus on her. "No, just saving the assets I enjoy, pet. Didn't want those beautiful breasts of yours all scorched. Don't like my meat too well grilled."

Buffy pulled the cushion out from under his head with one yank and it thudded down hard on the wooden floor.

"Ouch!"

"Oh sorry, did that hurt?" she said sweetly.

"What happened to the thanks for saving my life speech?"

She grinned and wriggled closer to him on the floor, pulling the platinum head onto her lap. "You're much nicer when you're unconscious, Spike. Just be quiet for a while and let the burns start to heal. It's too light to leave now."

Spike closed his eyes, and she felt the powerful muscles begin to relax one by one as she stroked the blond curls into a riot. She hoped he would sleep because she reckoned the pain was going to be very bad once he was fully awake. She shuddered. What if she'd lost him? The demon could have pushed him into the sunlight that was already splashing across the trees and bushes outside. The margin between happiness and despair was that narrow and suddenly she realised that if he wasn't in her life, then nothing made sense.

"You can get back across the lake, Buffy," he muttered suddenly. "The boat's still there. It isn't far."

"Hush. I told you to be quiet. I'm not going anywhere, and anyway, I don't think Buffy and boats are a very happy combination. I can't work out how you row backwards so you can't see where you're going."

There was a long pause and she wondered if he'd finally drifted off, then he muttered wearily, '"You once said the only chance I'd ever get of sleeping with you was when you were unconscious. Remember?"

Her hand on his head paused and she stared down at the man lying in her lap - at the high cheek bones, the dreadful burns on his white skin, the sprawl of the slender but powerful legs in the tight dark jeans.

Coming so close to losing him had made her realise lots of things. He'd been there for her all these years - enemy, friend, ally, lover - whenever she'd needed him, he'd been around but all she'd ever let herself see was - vampire. And only now was she beginning to realise that it wasn't what he was that was important but who.

"I've been an idiot," she whispered, almost to herself. "Fighting you all this time." She took a deep breath and bent her head till it was almost level with his. "You know, don't you, Spike. You've known all this time - that I love you."

And she waited for the world to explode - until she realised the vampire was fast asleep.

to be continued