Chapter Eleven

by Tam

Buffy woke to soft platinum curls burrowing into her belly while a rich purr vibrated from the lips resting at her navel down to her exhausted crotch. Strong, cool arms wound around her hips to hold her in place when she squirmed in reaction.

At some point during the previous night’s sex-capades, Spike had removed the handcuffs from her wrists. Buffy caught a glimpse of them dangling from the headboard and blushed hotly when she recalled using them to restrain the endlessly horny vampire. The blush turned into a full-body inferno as she remembered the wicked things she had done to him with her tongue.

Almost unwillingly, her fingers threaded through that angelic mop of curls, stroking idly. She should be snatching a handful and jerking him away from her, but the urge to kick his oh-so-delectable ass had recently been replaced by the overwhelming urge to…well, not.

There wasn’t an inch of her body that wasn’t feeling the effects of last night’s debauchery, including her still painfully red ass. The fact that Spike had spent an inordinate amount of time feathering apologetic kisses over said abused bottom had left her only slightly mollified. She fully intended on getting back at him for that stunt. In fact, she really should be plotting her next escape attempt instead of being a slayer-shaped teddy bear for William the Bloody.

Eventually, it was an urgent need for the bathroom that drove her to peel the blissfully snoring vampire off her. He growled sleepily in protest, but she managed to unwind his arms and slip away to the bathroom. Of course the next logical step was a much needed shower. She took her time, languishing under the heated spray long after she was clean.

Feeling much refreshed, she wrapped herself in one of the threadbare towels and poked her head around the door. Seeing that Spike was still sprawled on the bed, she crept out and hastily snatched up her clothes. She made an ‘ick’ face as she held up the shredded blouse and dirt smeared jeans. Ugh! No way was she putting those nasty things back on her body! Dropping them to the floor, she sent them flying into the corner with a petulant kick before flopping down on the edge of the bed.

Only to be pounced on and dragged beneath a wide awake and amorous Spike. Buffy squealed in protest, clutching her miniscule towel to her breasts like an offended virgin. “Spike! Stop that,” she demanded, slapping at his wandering hands and scrunching her shoulders up to hide her neck from his seeking mouth. Undeterred, he contented himself with nibbling along her cheek to her ear.

“Mmm. Christ, you smell delicious, Slayer,” he purred happily, capturing her earlobe for a good suck.

Buffy gasped and squirmed. “C’mon, Spike. I just took a shower!” she whined, cursing herself when her knees fell apart beneath the sly twist of his hips. A husky moan shuddered through her as she felt the insistent prod of his thick cock against her slickened lips.

Giving up on her neck for the moment, he focused instead on kissing the pout from her lips. “So, you’ll take another shower. I’ll even wash your back,” he offered generously, savoring the plump fullness of her bottom lip.

The sudden image of naked Spike twining around her in the shower, his sleek body bedecked in frothy soap bubbles, brought a fresh surge of arousal. She ruthlessly squashed the sanctimonious little voice that was questioning her easy acceptance of this vampire between her thighs and surrendered her scanty towel without a whimper.


Spike washed her back. He also washed her front, her hair, and spent an inordinate amount of time making sure that her crotch was squeaky clean. By the time the hot water ran out, Buffy was barely speaking coherently and had to be carried back to bed by a smirking vamp.

She was still draped face down on the mattress when he came back from the car and dropped a bulging duffle bag on the foot of the bed. Peeling open one eye, she looked at it and glared up at him.

“That’s mine. How did you get it?” she demanded. The thought of clean clothes gave her a sudden burst of energy and she was on her knees and digging through the contents eagerly. Her jaw dropped in stunned disbelief when her hands closed around a familiar ball of pink fur. She pulled it out and Mr. Gordo’s black button eyes stared up at her placidly.

“H-how did you get this stuff from my room?” she asked.

“Wasn’t hard. Still have that invite you’ve never taken care of, don’t I? Climbed through your window and nabbed a few of your bits and the toy.” He refused to meet her eyes and ran a hand nervously through his hair. His voice dropped to a discomfited rumble that she almost missed, “left a note for your mum.”

Buffy gaped at him. “You left a note for my mother?” she shrilled.

“Well, yeah,” he mumbled. “Din’t want her to worry about you.”

“That’s…well, it’s actually kind of sweet of you, Spike.” Then her hands raked through her hair and she fought the urge to scream at him. “This doesn’t seem the least bit bizarre to you? You kidnap me with every intention of feeding me to the Queen of the Damned, but you leave a note telling my mom…what? That I’ve suddenly lost my mind and decided a road trip with you would solve all my problems?”

Spike looked affronted. “Not so far-fetched, is it? You took a runner last time when you sent Peaches to hell. Figured they would expect it of you by now.”

He quickly dodged the little pink porcine projectile she flung at his head. Eyes narrowed suspiciously, she faced him down, arms crossed beneath perky naked breasts. “Do I even want to know how you found out about Angel leaving?”

“What, it’s some huge bloody secret?” he laughed derisively. “Please! I could have told you months ago— back when I snatched the witch and the whelp— that this was going to happen. Dream all you want, gorgeous, but Angelus is never gonna be your long-haul guy. He’s not built that way. The only time he’s truly happy is when he’s miserable, and that sucked the life right out of you, admit it!”

“Oh, like you have any room to talk!” she spat. “Cruella De Vil wants your head on a platter and you’re still crawling back to her! William the Bloody: King of Denial!”

It took everything he had, but Spike managed to resist the urge to leap across the bed and pound her senseless. He gritted his teeth and rolled his head slowly on his shoulders, the familiar pop of tense muscles oddly soothing.

“Look, neither one of us is going to win this particular argument. Can we at least agree on that?” At her jerky nod, he continued. “Just get dressed. I’m gonna go take care of a few things and when I get back, it’ll give me great pleasure to plant your skinny ass on a bus and ship you back to Sunnyhell,” he snarled.

“How do I know you won’t just take off and leave me here?” she scoffed, her voice muffled by the t-shirt she was tugging over her head.

Spike paused in the act of opening the door and turned to glare at her. “Yeah. Have you seen my car?” he asked sarcastically. “You remember… Big. Black. The same car you single-handedly pounded into powder?”

“Uh huh, and I’m still going with you. Deal with it!” She knew he thought she was just being contrary, but she really didn’t want to be left alone with her thoughts right now. Besides, she was the slayer. It was her duty to tag along and monitor his evil activities while making sure he wasn’t snacking on the locals.

Shoving her feet into her boots, she joined the impatient vampire at the door and followed him out into the night.


“Poker? I thought you said you were broke?” she asked skeptically. She was actually in a pretty good mood. It was amazing what clean clothes could do for a girl’s attitude.

Spike whirled on her and pinched her lips shut with his fingers. “It’s called bluffing, Slayer. Now, please, for the love of God. Shut. UP!”

Buffy scowled at him. “Sheesh, touchy!” she muttered and licked her abused lips. “And that hurt!”

In a heartbeat, she was pressed flat against a brick wall and being soundly smooched. When he finally lifted his head she stared up at him, dazed and panting. “What was that for?”

He shrugged self-consciously. “Figured I better kiss it better unless I wanted you to moan about it all night,” he tossed out with forced casualness, backing away and stuffing his hands in his coat pockets.


Buffy melted on the inside. On the outside, she pouted. “You don’t like it when I moan?”

Blue eyes swirled with a hint of gold snapped up to meet hers. “If we weren’t so pressed for time,” he rasped, crowding against her once more. “I’d drag you behind those crates and show you just how much I enjoy making you moan, sweetheart.”

She waited with bated breath for him to make good on his promise, but instead he was all business again, grabbing her hand and tugging her along behind him.

“Spike!” Her pout was for real this time.

“No time for that now, lamb. Gotta hurry. They lock the doors to this place once the table is full.”

After a few minutes, Spike came to a halt outside a rusted metal door and thumped it soundly three times. A small slot at eye level slid open to reveal suspicious red eyes.

“Passssword?” hissed a sibilant voice.

“Spongebob,” Spike answered, glaring at the slayer when she snickered. “Quiet, you!”

The door squealed open to reveal a hugely fat, flesh-colored demon with a tiny round head. “Oh, it’sss you, SSSpike. Dunno if the boysss will let you play after what happened lassst time,” the creature lisped. In spite of his less than jovial welcome, he motioned for them to follow him down a narrow flight of steps.

“What happened last time?” Buffy whispered as she stumbled along, her hands gripping the back of his duster tightly.

“Got accused of cheatin’,” Spike mumbled resentfully.

“You?” Buffy gasped and widened her eyes in mock disbelief. “Never!”

Spike slammed to a stop, his hand grabbing her wrist and squeezing tightly. “Go on ahead, mate. Just need to have a little chat with my bird.” When the demon disappeared through the door at the bottom, he turned on Buffy with a snarl.

“Look, this is the last time I’m tellin’ you to keep your mouth shut. These are some serious poker players and I’ll be damned lucky if they let me in instead of just killing me on sight. I’m takin’ a helluva risk here, and it’s for your benefit, so knock off the cute remarks, alright?”

Buffy swallowed hard and nodded, thoroughly chastened. “I-I’m sorry, Spike.”

“Good.” Slightly mollified, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “All you have to do is sit there and look pretty, yeah?”

It was hard to say which astounded her more; Spike telling her she was pretty or the bashful little kiss he brushed across her cheek before resuming their trek down the stairs.

‘He really can be awfully sweet, sometimes,’ she thought, fighting to ignore the sudden weightless feeling in her tummy as she followed him.


“I can’t believe you used me as collateral!” Buffy screamed, coming completely unhinged once they were back in the smelly alley. "Bluffing, my ASS!”

“I won, didn’t I?” Spike yelped as her fist connected with his nose. “Bloody hell, Slayer, cut it out!”

Trying to restrain her only seemed to piss her off more. Spike struggled to subdue her, endlessly grateful that she wasn’t packing a stake. Of course, that didn’t stop her vicious punches or her lethal little feet.

“Dammit! Would you just… OW!” Blocking a particularly ferocious kick to the groin, Spike finally lost his temper. “Enough!” he roared, grabbing her arms and shaking her like a rag doll.

Buffy finally subsided, chest heaving and tears streaking her pale face. She turned her face determinedly away so he couldn’t see how hurt she was. “Just when I think you’re not quite the asshole I thought you were, you do something like this,” she hitched out brokenly.

Jerking herself loose, she wrapped her arms tightly around her middle and put some distance between them. Spike gave her a little space, absently massaging his sore nose while watching her warily in case she went all damage bound again.

“Slayer. Buffy.” He grimaced when she flinched away from his seeking hand. “Come on, luv, don’t be mad. There was no way I could have lost that hand.”

Small consolation to the upset slayer. She turned to glare at him, her bottom lip wobbling pitifully. “Yeah, well if you would have, I would be playing Princess Leia to your friend Jabba the Hutt back there!”

Spike had to shake off a mental picture of a scantily clad slayer curled at his feet. ‘Now is not the time, you git!’ he chastised himself. He moved a little closer to her, encouraged when she didn’t skitter away from him this time.

“Shhh, you know I never woulda let that happen. You know the only one that gets to chain you up is me. C’mere.” He coaxed her closer and wrapped his arms gingerly around her. She held herself stubbornly stiff, but he could sense her anger subsiding under the force of his charm. “If I hadn’t been dealt that last ace, you and I could have taken on the lot of them and won, yeah? No way would I have let him walk out of there with you.”

Buffy sniffled, her angry resolve weakening further. “I suppose we could have,” she muttered.

“Right. And ‘m sorry I didn’t tell you my plan, but I knew there was no way you would agree to it.” He really did look contrite. And now he had enough money to send her home with plenty to spare, plus the ownership papers on a nearby farmhouse one of the other players had put up.

“Come on, kitten. Let’s head back to the room. Sun’ll be up soon. We’ll check out those bus schedules tomorrow, okay?”

Tired beyond belief, she allowed him to curl an arm around her shoulders and lead her away, uncomfortably aware that her heart sank a little at the thought of leaving him to go back to Sunnydale.