Buffy sat rigid at the table, hiding behind dark glasses and not daring to look at Spike. Just that morning she had woken up hung over and in his bed. Neither remembered what happened, but the evidence on both of them left little doubt. Spike had scratches on his back and Buffy had bite marks on the inside of her thigh. Nothing had ever felt worse. Not long after they had woken up, shocked by their actions, Spike had gone to the shower and she left.
Dealing with her worried mother had been horrible. Joyce had been convinced she had been killed. Giles was at her house and they could smell the liquor on her so they both launched into a tirade that left her queasier than she had been when she realized what she had done. She had received the patented disappointment speech and also the speech about being an adult but not to old to be punished. They finally took pity on her when she turned a bright green and began to cry. Now here she was, sitting in Giles’s kitchen to discuss a new danger with her latest vampire lover across from her. She had never felt more miserable in her life.
Spike’s head felt like it had been stabbed. All over. And then stabbed again. It throbbed from one side to the other, threatening to make his eyes water. The pain didn’t prevent him from glaring at Buffy as hard as he could though. He was pissed as hell that the Slayer had just taken off without so much as a good-bye or a ‘thank you for letting me ruin your life’ note. The entire time he was showering he was coming up with things to say to her to make her realize that he didn’t mind what happened and he wasn’t sorry. Then she had been gone and he almost fried himself going after her, not realizing the sun was shining brightly. He growled low in his throat, still leveling her with his glare and she shifted uncomfortably.
“Quit looking at me.” She said in a small voice. Every movement, every word, every breath intensified the headache, the nausea and the mortification she felt.
“Don’t tell me what to do.” He shook his head angrily then clutched it and moaned at the pain. “My head…”
“I hope it hurts like hell. It serves you right too!” Buffy snapped. “How dare you take advantage of me.”
“Take adva…” His eyes grew round and he slammed his fist on the table. “I did not take advantage of you! You were the one in MY bed so who followed whom where?”
Buffy’s own eyes widened and she shot to her feet, yanking off her sunglasses. “I was DRUNK!”
“I was too, dim wit!” He replied, noting the dark circles under her eyes and despising the fact that he cared. “Now sit down and shut up before Giles hears us."
“That’s going to be the least of your worries. Your ass is MINE.” The Slayer balled her fist at him and tried to punch him but he caught her.
“My arse was already yours last night. Maybe this time it will be worth remembering.” He shoved her back into her seat, trying not to feel bad about what he said. When he saw the look on her face, the hurt in her eyes, he felt horrible. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I just feel like a piece of shit and ..”
“You are a piece of shit. Dickhead!” Buffy shook her head and shoved her glasses back on so he couldn’t see the tears that were threatening to spill. How could you hate and desire someone so much at one time? It wasn’t natural. She should be beaten to death. Or at least beaten until she came to her senses. Damn him into hell! Why was he everything she wanted disguised as everything she hated?
Spike rolled his eyes at her, causing the headache to intensify. He groaned and leaned forward to rest his forehead on the table. Buffy smirked at him and kicked the underside of the table as hard as she could. It was knocked upward several inches, causing his head to lift off and slam back down on it with a loud pop. “BLOODY HELL!” Spike screamed. “Why did you do that?!”
“Because you are a piece of shit, dickhead.” Shrugged the Slayer innocently.
Spike was on his feet and dragging her across the table before he could stop himself. Buffy didn’t even have time to react before they were nose to nose with her lower body slanted at an odd angle across the table. He growled at her. “You are about to discover the hard way just why you shouldn’t fuck with me. I am going to whip your arse.”
“Oh, I’m so scared that I can’t quake with fear so I’ll just laugh instead.” She chuckled sarcastically and threw her weight back, pulling him onto the table with her. They rolled and crashed into the floor, knocking several chairs over.
Neither made a move to hit the other, instead they battled for dominance, as if one pinning the other was the only logical answer. They continued rolling, knocking over a potato box and the broom. Buffy flipped Spike hard over her head and he landed in the living room, where he tripped her when she tried to stand. Several things were overturned in her struggle to keep standing and glass could be heard shattering.
Giles heard the commotion and nearly sprawled down the stairs from the bathroom, trying to stop them with his shouts and button his pants at the same time. Stomach problems had plagued him all week, due in part to his stress and worry about the Slayer. He yelled when Spike gripped Buffy by the shirt and pants and pulled her across his lap, spanking her like a child. The Slayer turned red-faced, twisting and turning but unable to pull free. The vampire’s open palm flew furiously against her backside and he wore a grin of self-satisfaction.
The Englishman gasped and wrestled Buffy out of the vampire's grip and pushed her behind him. “Stop that this instant! What in heaven’s name has gotten into you two? Out drinking all night, piercing tongues, tattoos and stripping and now this! I won’t tolerate it! You two could hurt one another.”
“Oh, I’m going to hurt him!” Buffy screamed, trying to make her way around Giles. “You are getting staked, asshole! Multiple times!!!”
Spike sneered. “I told you I was going to whip your arse.”
Buffy went at him again and Giles shoved her into his leather recliner and shouted. “YOU SIT THERE, BUFFY! SPIKE, YOU TAKE A SEAT ON THE SOFA!”
They obeyed quickly and neither said a word. Giles yanked off his glasses and looked around his apartment angrily. “Look at what you’ve done to my home. Broken vases, two bookcases overturned, potatoes strewn everywhere. I don’t even want to see what you’ve done to my kitchen! How dare the two of you behave like this in my house!”
“I’m sorry, Giles, but he…” Buffy began.
Giles held up and hand and stopped her. “I refuse to listen. You two made a deal when you decided to work together. Personal differences aside and a willingness to look out for one another. I hardly think that killing one another falls under anything we agreed upon.”
“Giles, listen to me!” Cried Buffy; exasperated with everything.
“I SAID NO!” He shot back. He checked his watch and lifted his coat off the back of his couch. “I’m leaving. I will be back in two hours and I expect this place to be put back into some sort of order or so help me…you’ll wish I had let you kill each other just now.”
Without another word, he strode out the door and slammed it behind him. Buffy crossed her arms and slumped back into her chair, where she closed her eyes and sighed loudly. Spike watched her with a small smile curving his lips. “Awww, baby’s pouting. How cute.”
She slowly opened her eyes and stared at him. He stuck out his tongue at her and she promptly burst into tears. The headache, the pain of being her and the pain of wanting someone so unattainable finally broke her. “Why do you hate me so much, Spike?”
He opened his mouth in shock and then closed it again, unsure of what to say. He didn’t hate her at all. Running a hand through his hair, he stood and moved beside the chair. Squatting next to it, he said, “Don’t cry.”
“What am I supposed to do? You hurt my feelings!” She mumbled. “You’re mean to me!”
“I’m mean to YOU?” He stood back up and put his hands on his hips. “Who just gave who a concussion with the table?”
“Who asked for it?” Buffy stood as well and drew her hand over her face, wiping away the tears.
“Asked for it? What language was I speaking when I asked for it because it sure as hell wasn’t any language I know!” He threw his hands into the air. “You infuriate me.”
“Then ignore me!” She yelled and blew past him, into the kitchen.
Fighting the urge to just walk out the door and out of her life, he followed her. “I don’t want to ignore you.”
“Fine. I’ll ignore you.” She turned her back and began to put the placemats back on the table.
“No, you will not!” Spike grabbed her arms and forced her to face him. “I’m tired of these games. We are not children, Slayer.”
“Correction.” She smiled sweetly. “I am not a child. You are a fetus!”
“STOP IT!” Spike shook her hard and gripped her arms tighter, digging into her flesh. “Can’t we just talk for five minutes without insults or bickering? Can’t we talk and be honest with one another?”
Buffy looked at his expression, saw the longing in his face and realized that she had the same longing. She did want to talk to him and she did want to resolve everything. But she was so afraid of where it might lead. “I don’ t want to argue.”
“Arguing is the same thing as bickering, luv, and I won’t.”
“I bet you will.” She let him lead her back to the sofa and they sat down next to each other.
“I bet I won’t.” He replied. “What are the odds? You made the bet, you call it.”
“Hmm.” She grinned. “Whoever starts the next fight, which we are bound to have, has to clean up this mess alone.”
“Well then, I hope you’re a fast worker.” He replied.
Grinning, she said, “You go first.”
“Me?” Asked the vampire, scratching across his chin. “Why me?”
“It was your idea.” Shrugged the Slayer.
“Okay.” He leaned forward and clasped his hands together between his legs, studying them intently. “I don’t hate you. I don’t hate you and I don’t like the thought of making you cry because you think I do. I don’t even think I ever did. Even back when I tried to kill you at the school.”
“Spike? Honesty is a prerequisite, remember?”
He turned in the seat and stared at her. “Okay. I hated you only because it was ‘required’ that I hate you in order to be taken seriously. I liked you from the beginning. You aren’t like other Slayers. Hell, you aren’t like any other girl. You do things your way and I like that. I like you.”
She blinked several times, digesting that information, then nodded. “I like you too. I mean, I don’t want to like you because it’s scary and potentially dangerous...”
“Potentially dangerous?” Spike shook his head in disbelief. “You honestly think I would hurt you? After all we’ve been through?”
“Maybe not intentionally but hearts get broken. I don’t want that. I don’t want to feel something that makes me so uneasy.”
“What do you feel?”
The way he was looking at her made her skin tingle. Buffy glanced away and then back at him. < His lips were on mine last night. His body and my body moved together in the most intimate way possible. I want that. I want to feel that and remember it. > “I feel like if you don’t kiss me I won’t be able to live.”
< Did she just say that? To hell with it. I’m kissing her. I don’t care if I’m hearing things.> Spike moved closer to her and pulled her into his arms. He brushed his lips against her temple, down her cheek and onto her lips, slowly massaging them open. When her tongue brushed his, he deepened the kiss, stroking her tongue ring and causing her to moan against his mouth.
Buffy was so wrapped up in the feel of his powerful kiss that she didn’t even stop to consider that she was doing exactly what she had wanted to avoid. A small voice in the back of her mind kept telling her that she was a fool but she tuned it out, hearing nothing but her own breathing. She wound her arms around his neck and moved to across his lap, placing a leg on either side of him.
Spike groaned and pushed his hips upward, wanting so much to be rid of his clothes. He moved his hands from either side of her face slowly down her arms, resting them on her hips. The way she was positioned, her chest kept brushing against his and finally, he pulled back. “Baby…”
“What?” Buffy moved back toward his lips but he held her at bay.
“We’re about to start something that may not be too smart considering that Giles will be here soon expecting his house cleaned.” Spike couldn’t help but notice the way her nipples were visibly erect through her shirt and begging to be sucked into his mouth. He licked his lips and closed his eyes, trying to shake the urge to slam her onto the couch.
“Please?” Her voice was husky as she moved to kiss his ear. “I want you so much.”
She didn’t have to ask again. Spike pushed her sweater off her shoulders and grinned when he saw her thin strapped halter. Running his thumb under it, he pulled it halfway down her arm and placed his mouth on the delicate skin at the curve of her neck, licking it before he sucked at it.
Buffy hissed and arched her hips forward, feeling how hard he was and taking a moment to relish the fact that SHE was the cause of it. As he trailed his tongue to the front of her throat, she leaned back, pulling away so that her breasts were right in his face. He winked at her and peeled her shirt down as far as he could. Buffy wasn’t wearing a bra and once her breasts were exposed he tugged one rosy nipple into his mouth, tweaking the other between his finger and thumb.
“Oh, Spike!” Buffy cried, holding his head in place so he couldn’t stop. Every time he tugged her nipple with his teeth she felt it between her legs. Every time his tongue swirled around her areola an aching need made her painfully aware of how empty she was. She pulled away and stood, pulling her shirt over her head and quickly unbuttoning her jeans.
Grinning, Spike moved her hands away and leaned forward, tugging the zipper down with his teeth. Unable to stop it, his demon emerged, making his teeth longer and sharper. He started to pull away, to tell her that he was sorry that he changed but he couldn’t pull loose. His left fang was literally hung in the small hole of her zipper. It had grown THROUGH the hole. “Oh no.”
Buffy felt the tug and looked down. Spike’s mouth was half-open and she could see perfectly that he was stuck. “What are you doing?!”
“Not mush of anything.” He murmured, trying to break away. "I'm schtuck!"
“What did you do that for?” She cried, stumbling as he tried to work his tooth free.
He paused and glanced upward. “Well, it wasn’t acthually someting I focking panned.
“You’re going to tear my pants!” Buffy squealed. "THESE ARE NEW!"
“Will you hush?” He snapped, beginning to get a crick in his neck. Not only was he embarrassed, he was in pain and she was worried about her britches?
“Quit that!” She exclaimed, wiggling her hips as he tugged her again. “Can’t you just get rid of the demon?”
“Not as lon as your mouf is running.” He snapped angrily. “Ve quiet sho I can concentwate.”
“You’re blaming me?” Buffy shouted. “Like it’s my fault! I KNOW how to undo my own damn pants! I was doing fine.”
“SHUTH UP!” He shouted, not feeling any leeway over his demon. “Thatsh it! One more word and I’m wipping them.”
Buffy started to reply when the door swung open and Giles paused, staring at them with a look on his face between horror and shock. Oz stepped around him and scratched his head. Willow peeked over Oz’s shoulder and quickly covered his eyes when she saw Buffy’s naked breasts.
Buffy’s hands shot to her chest and she closed her eyes, praying as hard as she could to be sucked into the Hellmouth. Spike cleared his throat and said, “Thish isn’t how it looksh.”
“Giles, the book?” Oz said, his eyes still covered.
“Right.” Giles moved fast toward the bookcase that had fallen over and picked up a thick leather book. He hurried back across the room and handed it to Willow. “You’ll find the spell on page eight hundred twelve.”
Not looking away from Buffy and Spike, Willow nodded. “Page eight hundred twelve. Right. Oz and I are going for Pizza. Now.”
Giles looked at the red head and said, “I’ll join you then.”
“Definitely.” Willow finally looked away and turned quickly, pulling Oz with her.
With his back to them, Giles announced, “I don’t want to know what you’re doing…why you’re doing it or what the hell is going on…but I do expect to find my home in order in one hour. No exceptions. Nothing.”
When the door shut, Spike pushed his demon away and pulled free. He took one look at Buffy’s face and said, “I’ll start in the kitchen.”
“I’ll work in here.”
“Good.” He handed her her shirt and cringed when she snatched it.
“Good.” Buffy nodded, not meeting his gaze as she yanked her shirt over her head.
He walked bowlegged toward the kitchen, his erection threatening to cripple him for life. Pausing in the doorway, he turned back toward her. “I don’t suppose you’re still in the mood?”
“No. I’m not in the mood.” Buffy said absently, setting the bookcase back up and stacking several books back on it.
“I didn’t think so.” He walked into the kitchen and began cleaning up glass. The minutes ticked away and soon he was putting the finishing touches on restoring order to the room. “Buffy?” He called. “I’m just about finished. Do you need some help?” When he got no reply, he walked around the corner and shook his head. She had walked out on him again. The living room was in pristine order with nothing out of place.
This time Spike was too angry to even worry about going after her. Yanking his coat off the hanger behind the door he stormed into the night. How dare she start something and not finish it? How dare she keep walking out of him? How dare she turn his life upside down and inside out and turn him on and turn him down?
There would be no more games.
There would be no more bets or dares.
He was hellbent on claiming what was his.