All About Spike - Plain Version
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Chapter: Prologue 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24
Love is Blind
"The sight of you is good for sore eyes"
-- Jonathan Swift
It was primal. Passionate. An inferno of flame tearing through
her body, leaving her scorched...and wanting more. As if sensing
her need, Spike bit even deeper, one hand going up to the back of her neck
to hold her steady while the other moved slowly down the length of her
back, over her behind, then back up again, under her shirt this time, caressing
the bare skin of her back. Buffy whimpered, deep in the back of her
throat, and twisted desperately on top of the vampire, trying to get even
closer, trying to...
Sensations. Almost too many to count. Cold fangs, deep in
her neck. The heat of her blood flowing over them and into his mouth.
His tongue, moving rhythmically against her skin as he drank. Her
heart, pounding harder against his chest, trying to keep up with her body's
sudden, new demands on it. And the scent of him, surrounding her.
In her. His arousal, pressing insistently against her, the way her
muscles clenched spasmodically with his every move...
Too many clothes. She was wearing too many clothes. There
was too much between them. But she could do nothing about it with
only one good arm, couldn't even focus enough to pull off the leather coat
she was still wearing. She tried, scarcely noticing how much her
hand was shaking, how weak her fingers were -- and failed. Frustrated,
Buffy whimpered, making another half-hearted tug at the edge of the leather.
Spike reached up for her hand, pulled it away from the coat...and then
flipped her onto her back, rolling on top of her, maintaining his contact
with her throat the whole while. If anything, the bite deepened,
now that he could get more purchase, a better angle... Buffy gasped,
then arched upward, straining desperately for more...more Spike.
Still drinking, Spike pulled the coat savagely from her shoulders then
down both of her arms. Pain stabbed through Buffy's left arm, but
the feeling was distant and barely noticeable so she ignored it, moving
closer to him instead, both of her legs curling up and around his hips
while her right hand went around his back to hold on desperately.
Finally the vampire managed to pull the duster free and fling it to one
side. Then he ran his hand back under the t-shirt, caressing her
Buffy convulsed, calling his name, her nails digging into his back...and
the world exploded. There was fire. Passion. Need.
Everything around her began to fade, the world vanishing on a flood of
desire. She was sinking fast, back into the dark waters she had dreamed
about. Only this time she didn't care, didn't even try to fight the
darkness. Because this time she wasn't alone.
She barely noticed as her hand slowly released its grip on the vampire,
sliding across his naked back to land limply on the floor. Didn't
notice that she could no longer feel the floor beneath her, could barely
even feel Spike's weight on her. Something, a last flicker of the
Slayer's survival instinct perhaps, tried to shout a warning, but it was
too far away...and she didn't want to listen anyway. Nothing else
mattered. There was only this moment. And these feelings.
"Spike," Buffy whispered...and it wasn't a plea to stop. It was
an entreaty not to stop.
* * *
The Slayer's blood was like nectar. Honey. Sunlight and
fire. Its heat warmed him, filling his cold body and engulfing his
senses. Lust and need were cascading through the vampire, one after
another, until he couldn't think, couldn't see, could do nothing but hold
on and wait for the flames to burn out, for the feelings to fade away and
Only they didn't. Instead, they got better.
Everything. This was everything he had ever wanted, everything
he had dreamed of...and it was better than he had ever dreamed. The
vampire swallowed deeply, savouring the taste of her blood on his tongue,
the texture as it slid down his throat. And the scent of her as she
surrounded him, the way her body felt beneath his own...
Except there was something he was supposed to remember. Something
he was supposed to do. Or -- not do.
Not kill her. Not drink until she died.
Not let his Slayer die.
He wanted to. Everything that made him a vampire, that had spent
the last century feeding, killing, and taking whatever and whomever he
wanted, when he wanted...it was all telling him to just do it. To
finish her off. To keep drinking until her heart beat its last and
her body went limp in his arms.
He wanted to so much.
But in the end, he didn't.
And it wasn't the implant that stopped him.
* * *
Buffy moaned as Spike broke away, his fangs slowly pulling loose from
her throat. No! She didn't want this to end, didn't want the
sensations to stop. Desperately she tried to reach up, to draw him back
to her, but her arms were too weak, her hands too heavy to lift...
...and besides...sanity was beginning to return. Slowly.
Reluctantly. But inexorably.
Hesitantly the Slayer opened her eyes, gradually becoming aware of the
sound of her own panting, the way her chest heaved beneath him as her starved
lungs struggled to draw air in. Her heart was fluttering like a bird's
and her body was shaking, she realized dimly, both from exhaustion, loss
of blood...and the aftershocks of the climax that had rocked her.
With difficulty, Buffy looked up, her eyelids weighted like stones.
There was blood on the vampire's lips. As she watched, he licked
it away...and, weak though she was, a faint tremor of desire went through
her. She still wanted him. God help her, she still wanted him...
Spike felt her quiver and for an instant their eyes met, awareness reflected
in each other's gaze...
...as awareness of another kind went through Buffy. She could
see. She could see Spike's eyes, his expression, see the torchlight
casting shadows on the angular planes of his face...
"I can see." She managed to say out loud, her voice a ragged whisper.
But she had no strength left for joy or relief. The best she could
manage was tired surprise. It was taking so much effort just to form
the words, to control her breathing enough to get them out... Too
much effort. Alarm buzzed faintly in the back of her skull.
Drained. That's what she was. In more ways than one.
But at least she was still conscious. He couldn't have taken that
much if she was still conscious... Right? Even though it was becoming
harder and harder to hang onto that awareness, to keep the darkness lurking
on the edges of her vision at bay...
"Miss Summers?" It was the Valet's disembodied voice, coming from
somewhere to her left.
Buffy blinked and, with a superhuman effort, managed to stave off the
shadows, at least temporarily. "I can see," she whispered again wearily.
"Yes, my dear. I'm afraid I wasn't completely truthful earlier.
The first part of the Trial was indeed Spike's three challenges...but the
last part was yours."
"Why?" Her tone was flat. Uncaring.
"Rules, Miss Summers. Rules. And now," he continued, more
briskly, "The Trial is complete. Thank you for your patronage.
Have a nice day."
And then the world began to fade around them and the stone chamber...vanished.
* * *
Spike almost had control over himself again, over the demon inside that
was still clamouring to sink his fangs back into the paleness of the Slayer's
neck, to take the last of the blood pumping through her veins and to continue
where he had left off...
No. No, no, and no. He wouldn't do it. It didn't matter
how much he wanted to, how much she might want him to even, he bloody
well wasn't going to do it.
Locked in his inner battle as he was, he barely heard the Valet's words,
scarcely noticed when the room disappeared and was replaced by wet grass,
sharp night air, and darkness lit only by starlight and a quarter moon.
What Spike did notice though, when he finally stirred slightly, was the
pain that came roaring back over him like a freight train.
He actually had been hit by a train once, he remembered. And this
felt pretty much the same. The first incredible agony of the impact
followed by a whole barrage of lesser torments that just kept getting worse
and worse. Oh yeah. Pretty sodding similar.
The burns were still there, he realized, as well as the gashes in his
leg, although those at least had stopped pumping blood. And the pain
had abated, just a little. He wasn't dying now, at least. That
much was certain. The Slayer's blood had done it, had saved him...
The Slayer. Spike blinked and looked down. She was still
beneath him, unmoving. Her skin ashen, her heart going a mile a minute...but
she was awake. Alive. And staring up at him with a faintly
puzzled expression on her face. Staring up at him...
He remembered. She could see. She had said so, just a moment
ago. 'Course, he'd been too busy trying to prevent himself from killing
her, for it to really sink in but now... Despite the pain, Spike suddenly
found himself fighting the urge to break into a grin. He had done
it. She could see.
There was a long moment of silence as the two stared at each other,
then Spike finally spoke. "You know, Slayer," he said, trying to
keep his voice from reflecting both his pain...and the pleasure.
"I could get used to this."
"What?" It came out in a whisper, as if she were only half listening...or
"Waking up on top of you. We keep on like this and I might start
thinking you want my body."
Some reserve energy seemed to return to her and she managed to push
at him, albeit weakly.
"Only for something to pummel."
'Atta girl,' the vampire thought. 'Take more than a little blood
loss to do you in...' Speaking of... His gaze sharpened as
his eyes fastened on the thin tendril of blood running down her throat.
Slowly, instinctively, knowing that he was playing with fire even as he
did it, the vampire lowered his head and ran his tongue over the rivulet,
licking it up...savouring the way she immediately gasped and stiffened
beneath him, the way her body arched up toward his... 'Oh yeah -
not so indifferent now, are we?'
Trouble was, he wanted more. A hell of a lot more. And unless
he was willing to kill to get it... No. Reluctantly Spike pulled
away, just enough, rolling the last mouthful of blood around in his mouth
to get the full flavour before swallowing it, a feeling of deep satisfaction
coursing through him.
He didn't say anything.
He didn't need to.
The moment stretched between them until he thought time might stop altogether,
but then the Slayer stiffened, the hands that had been running down his
sides now beginning to tense and push at him, this time with more force.
"That's what? Three, four times tonight you've said that?
That song's getting a little old, love. How 'bout we try a new one?"
"Sure. Do you know 'I'm going to get off Buffy before she stakes
Spike's tone became serious. "You won't stake me." It wasn't
a question. "Didn't then, won't now." Nevertheless, with an effort
he pushed himself aside and off the Slayer, rolling onto his back beside
her and stifling a groan as his burns protested. Loudly. Then
he lay still, waiting for the pain to recede while the stars whirled above
Another, longer silence fell between them. Finally, though, he
felt her hand move, sliding across the wet grass until it found his own,
her fingers entwining in his. "No," she said sombrely. "I won't."
She swallowed once then said:
"Thank you, Spike."
"You're welcome, Slayer."
Continued in Part 14
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