All About Spike

Chapter: 1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13  14  15

Actions Past
By dutchbuffy2305

Timeline: Season 2 (After Passions) and later in season 7

Rating: R

Spoilers: AU from Beneath You (7.2). In this universe, Buffy takes Spike home

Disclaimer: All ME


Paint it Black (12)

The Slayer ran through the streets of the brightly lit town. Her pheromone signature trailed behind her like a flag, luring her prey from their holes. She wasn’t interested in the numerous fledglings that found her so irresistible. Her nose had sniffed out an old one, a truly dangerous predator, and he was what she aimed for tonight.

She stood still for a moment to shed her odd foot coverings. Her bare feet slapped on the tarmac, and then became soundless on the moist grass of the graveyard. The automatic, tingling response of her body to the proximity of prey became stronger. She tugged impatiently at the unfamiliar tight garments she was wearing, not recognizing the fastenings. She needed more bare skin to give off her scent, she was so clean and so covered, how would she lure the old one? They were always better at resisting her pheromone lure, and perhaps therefore the more rewarding to kill.

She jumped on a high structure to get a better view of the terrain. She saw moonlight gleaming on pale hair. That must be it! It was already coming in her direction! She jumped down and tore off her clothing. She rubbed herself hard, to get the scent going, and bound the stake in her hair. The dark shadow of the structure she had been standing on hid her nude form.

The vampire unerringly walked to the spot she was hiding. He also was covered completely in dark cloth. He opened his mouth and made speaking sounds, wearing his human mask, strangely enough. Did he think he was human still? She stepped in to the moonlight and wordlessly taunted him. She stroked her breasts lasciviously and circled him, giving him a good noseful of her irresistible odor. The vampire started backing off! How could he resist her? She tackled him to the ground, and started tearing of his coverings. He struggled half-heartedly, but was clearly very much aroused and ready for her, although his mouth kept on moving. She impaled herself on him and started making the sacred ritual for the offering. It was a very smooth, pale, pleasing vampire, whose hands knew exactly where to touch her to make her pleasure even greater. Still in human face!

She had never known pleasure so deep and so skillfully applied. It was hard to stay alert and keep the upper hand. At one moment the vampire even succeeded in flipping her over, pounding into her so deliciously that her pleasure almost overwhelmed her. She quickly turned them over again. The whole process of offering pleasure took him longer than any prey ever had, and when it finally came over him she was nearly exhausted from her own pleasure. The vampire didn’t make any attempt to bite her, even during his orgasm keeping on his mask. She whipped out the stake. His eyes widened in fear and understanding, but instead of fighting it he became limp and still. He looked in to her eyes with his blue ones, so strange, not golden, and spread his arms wide, offering her his smooth naked chest for her to stake.

The strangest feeling pierced the Slayer, like a heartache, like regret. She panted, unable to fight the feeling, unable to express it. She lifted the stake high regardless and slammed it down.

Only in the last possible second did Buffy manage to divert the stake and it stuck harmlessly in the sodden ground, bare millimeters from Spike's armpit.

Buffy was overwhelmed by panic, gasping as if she’d run a marathon, heart hammering in her throat. She had only the dimmest memory of the past half hour, save the last few moments, when she'd apparently been about to stake Spike -- in the middle of fucking him on the wet grass, in a cold dark graveyard? She slumped forward on his chest, clutching at him and unable to speak.

"Buffy!" Spike's voice was hoarse. "What the bloody hell just happened?'

Buffy sobbed until her ribs ached from the effort, and still she couldn’t stop the flood of tears. She started to answer Spike, but she was capable only of incoherent mumbling.

"Buffy, come on, love, it's freezing, we can't stay here. We have to get you home."

He put on her torn and muddy clothes as best as he could, not understanding why her jeans had been ripped in half.

"Where are your shoes?"

Buffy didn't remember at first. Her voice hardly worked. "I think I took them off, I didn’t understand heels, I thought I couldn't walk properly."

Neither of them had noticed the circle of onlookers, who had quietly slunk off into the night when the show was over.

It seemed a long time before they were home, and got showered and dressed. Spike had mostly carried Buffy home; her bare feet too damaged and bloody to walk on. He’d had to help her shower and get her clothes off, her hands clumsy and cold. Spike had even helped put her in a pair of ancient flannel sushi pajamas. Still shivering and with chattering teeth she crawled under the covers.

“Well?” she said to Spike, who stood hovering in the door. “Get out of these clothes and come on in! You must be turning to stone from the cold!”

He approached a few steps. “Buffy, I…” His eyes seemed so dark again, even though in the moonlight they had been blue.

“Please, come on in! I’m totally wigged, I don’t want to be alone and have another of these creepy dreams, please, Spike?”

Slowly he took off his tattered clothes and climbed in next to her. Buffy covered him with the comforter and put her arms around him tightly, getting as close as she possibly could. It took a while to warm up.

“Buffy…What happened? Why did you almost kill me? And why didn’t you?” His low voice thrummed against her hair. She rubbed her cheek against the smooth skin and hard curve of his collarbone.

“I think I was the Ancient Slayer, like in the dreams. I thought I was dreaming it, but it was real. I didn’t know it was you, and I couldn’t understand anything you said. I thought you weren’t speaking real words. I was going to kill you. It was my duty!” Hot liquid spattered against his chest.

Spike slid one hand under the soft old flannel of her pajamas, and started stroking her warm silky back.

“What stopped you?”

“I saw it was you, and I could never kill you…” she said on a hiccuping sob. His arms tightened around her.


Gradually the gestures of comfort and warmth became something else. Spike’s cold body turned warm against her, and Buffy started to feel uncomfortably hot. Her skin became unbearably sensitive, and the slide of flannel against it was torture. She threw off the covers and started unbuttoning her pajamas, tearing off a few buttons in her haste. Their mouths met, clumsily, nose bumping nose, as if they had never kissed before. It was blind, needy, and graceless. The art they had made with their bodies not a year ago seemed forgotten. This was a frantic tussle for bodily warmth and assurance, getting as physically close to the other as they could. Fear of death turned into the ancient act of creating life, instinct even for these supernatural creatures.

“I need you, Spike,” Buffy said plainly, staring fixedly in his eyes as he moved raggedly inside her.

“Buffy, I love you so much!” Spike croaked, undone.

They clung to each other, shivering and shaking, finally naked. Buffy could no longer stand the wash of that unknown, painful emotion, and hid her face in Spike’s neck. Spike felt himself falling as he spent, spiraling deeper and deeper down into a warm dark velvety space.


Slowly Buffy climbed up out of a deep, foggy valley of sleep. She was so warm, so relaxed. Her nose was squashed against something that was smooth and good-smelling and slightly cooler than her own skin. Spike. Pecs of Spike. He was lying spread-eagled on his back, with Buffy draped bonelessly over him. With a little grunt of happiness she wriggled upwards, and put her cheek next to his.

His lashes fluttered and slid open languidly, revealing eyes that looked even bluer in the muted daylight that filtered through the curtains. The angle of the light was a little odd. She saw his eyes widen as he took in the situation.

“Buffy…” He sighed deeply.

She smiled widely at him, and there was a little doubtful frown between his eyebrows before he smiled back. Oh God. This must be the first time he’d ever seen her really really smile. His evident uncertainty gave her a twinge of guilt, and also of exasperation. She had to do something to make a change; her world hadn’t had enough Spike in it for a long time now. Any progress they’d make always dissipated into thin air between their meetings, and it was like they had to start all over again.

Spike turned on his side, keeping Buffy against him, and rested his cheek on one hand. He softly caressed Buffy’s cheek with the knuckles of the other hand.

“Good morning. Sleep well?”

“Never better,” Buffy said, leaning into his hand.

Spike swallowed. This meant so much. This was the stuff of dreams, waking up in Buffy’s bed, and she not kicking him out and giving him the wrong side of that tongue. Granted, she’d somehow almost killed him right before that, in a frightening trance state, so maybe she hadn’t quite been in her right mind when she invited him to stay. Any moment now things would start to change.

He’d been so determined not to let things get this far, not before some necessary things had been said. But of course he could never resist her, not really. He was hers, to do with as she saw fit.

“Spike, “she started. There it was. He steeled himself.

“I want you to stay. Here, with me.”

He nodded and started to fondle her breast, eyes down, head bowed a little in resignation. Never for him.

“Spike, wait a minute with that. You hear what I said? I want you to come live with me. I want to wake up like this every morning!”

This was so huge it left him speechless. She looked into his eyes earnestly.

“Whaddya say? Spike?”

“Buffy – do you love me then? You’ve not said—“He’d swear his heart was beating.

For a moment she looked away. “I don’t know, Spike. I do have feelings for you… All I know is that I’ve never woken up happier in my life, I love slaying with you, and I wanna do everything with you by my side. I don’t know what to call that. It’s not like what I felt for Angel. Does it matter?”

Yes. Yes, it did matter. For a moment the old bitterness rose up in him like gall. Always second, never first with anyone. Then a more reasonable voice took over, shushing the needy child. Cheer up, mate it said. She’s never shared this much with anyone, even if she did say she loved them. You’re getting the better deal. You’ll take care of her like they never did. Take your chances!

He took a deep breath. “Yeah,” he said, and his voice was shaking, and he needed her to hear it, “It’s a huge deal for me. Because I love you so bloody much. Because I’ve never wished for anything so hard as to hear you say you loved me back.”

Her hand tightened convulsively on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. ”I’ll…”

“Don’t ever lie to me, Buffy. Even if you know it will hurt!”

He hid his face in her hair, trying to blink away the tears.

Buffy said: “Please look at me, Spike? I know it’s not what you wanna hear, but we’ll be good together, I know we will.”

“Sorry to be so soppy…Just too bloody romantic for my own good.” It hurt to look at her.

Buffy kissed his wet cheekbones. “Don’t apologize. I like you romantic. It’s just that I’m not so much, even though a girl should really never say that.”

“You’re a hero. You can’t afford to be.” The disappointment was actually receding. In its place was rising this wonderful fizzy feeling, like a soft drink that had been shaken and would spout to high heaven if it was opened. He caught his lower lip between his teeth and pulled Buffy firmly against his belly, letting her feel how hard he was.

“I accept, Buffy. Now let’s negotiate!” he said to her, as seductively as he could.

“Negotiate?” The look on her face was priceless. It was utterly revealing. Westley, you commoner, you’ve received the hand of Buttercup, what’s to negotiate?

“Example: Where will I sleep?” Spike’s hand roamed over the creamy soft skin of her belly.

“I told you, in my bed!”

“See, that one was easy. Now this: how would you introduce me to your father?” A finger strayed down the crease of her hips.


“Wrong answer.” He pulled at a wiry curl.

Buffy squirmed. “But Spike, my dad will never actually…”

“How?” Rumbling in her ear, knowing that made her crazy.


“Dad, meet Spike?”

“Buffy!” A nip at her earlobe. She moaned softly.

“Dad, meet my boyfriend Spike?”

“Good girl, “he breathed down her neck, and his hand traveled lower.

“And what will you tell Dawn, and Rupert, and the rest of your little groupies?” Oh, the luscious bum on her!

“That you’re gonna live here and…”

“Just ‘here’?”

“…with me, and that we’re together…” she panted, as his fingers sought out her most sensitive spots.

“Very good. And if you’re having dinner with colleagues, who will you bring?” There was the slippery little nubbin…

“Ew! We never do stuff like that at my work!”

Spike withdrew his hand, and looked at her expectantly: ”Well?” he prompted.

“Okay, I would take you. How can you actually want that?”

“That’s not the point. I want to be your boyfriend in every trivial boring detail. I’ll buy you tampons…” He inserted his finger, to demonstrate his point.

“Ew!” She said. But she wiggled, too. “And double ew! Now I’m thinking of another reason for you to fixate on tampons!”

He grinned unrepentantly. “..Hold your head when you’re sick…”

“Great, bring that up again!”

“Um…” The feel of the hot buttery flesh of her thigh against him was too distracting.

“I’m glad you’ve run out of disgusting things to share with me…We’ve got better things to do. Hmm. Do that again.”

Spike slowly sheathed himself in her exquisite warmth, watching her close her eyes and her head fall back on the pillow.

“Oh yes, baby, yes...right there…harder…” Buffy calling him baby, Buffy talking, hot naked Buffy in her own bed…it was almost too much. He tried to distract himself.

“We haven’t talked about redecorating yet…” he panted, trying to slow down.

Buffy opened her eyes with difficulty and tried to focus.

“Redecorating? Aaaaaah…. I just redid this room! We’re not redecorating this room! Don’t stop!” She clutched his arse with her hot little hands, thank god she could not reach his balls in this position, that would be his undoing, she wrapped those strong legs around his thighs and started slamming herself against him, she never had any bloody patience, and if only he could hold on little longer…

Buffy watched him convulse and shudder helplessly. She’d wanted to watch him come; she’d never looked closely enough, certainly not in daylight. God, he was so beautiful. His eyes were squeezed shut tightly, a muscle in his jaw stood out in sharp relief. He was obviously trying not to make noise, very considerate of him.

“We should think about soundproofing,” she said, very short of breath. “And get thicker drapes. This is too risky.”

“Huh?” Spike sank down on Buffy; his arms had gone a little wonky. Oh. Decorating. He tried to summon decorating zeal. “Maybe the living room. Too bland.”

With his nose full of soft warm fragrant Buffy-skin he didn’t give a rat’s arse about Joyce’s middle-class American taste. There were more important things to do, such as burying himself in her sweet little quim, to give her a good seeing-to.

“The couch is saggy,“ Buffy admitted. Her hands tangled in his curls.

Spike lifted his head. “Shut it, Buffy. About the couch I mean.”

He concentrated on the pink slippery folds in front of him again, spreading her pearly liquid over her clit. Her thighs were already quivering, a certain sign of impending orgasm with Buffy. Sure enough, her hands were clenched in the sheets, head whipping silently back and forth on the pillow. Yes. He put fingers in her cunny, just so, pressing and rubbing the exact spot where it would do most good, licked her clit first softly, and then sucked a little harder. Her whole body tensed, then the long drawn out shudders of the aftershocks traveled through her.

Spike drew himself level with Buffy again and clutched her closely and possessively against his chest. She sighed, replete, her foot stroking his calf, her hands laced behind his back.

“I really really needed that. That was just so long ago…”

“You mean you faked it last night? Twice?” She did get he was teasing, right?

“What? No! I mean- that was different. This was like the real thing, the others were, well, one was just really weird, and the other…” Her brow furrowed. “What did you think of last night? I was so wigged, I didn’t even ask. What was it like? Could you tell the difference?”

“Well, yeah, the nakedness, and the mud, and the smell were kinda giving it away, you know.” Spike tucked a golden lock behind her ear and stroked her shining head.

“I smelled?”

Spike grinned at the look on her face. “The most alluring, bloody delicious scent I’ve ever smelled. I wouldn’t mind a bit if you always smelled like that. On second thoughts, don’t. Might draw unwanted visitors.”

Buffy seemed not at all appeased by this. “Unwanted visitors? Ew! Do you smell it right now? Is the house surrounded by slavering vampires?”

“Since it broad daylight, I s’pose we’re safe for now, but…”

Buffy sat up with a little shriek. “Daylight? Oh God, Spike, it’s two o’clock! My job! Dawn!”

“Come here, Buff, too late to go to work anyway. And Dawn is perfectly capable of going to school on her own. Stay!” He looked at her imploringly. Whatever she had said, she still might change her mind and kick him out.

She caved in quickly, settling back against him with a sigh. He reveled in her willingness to stay with him. Things really seemed different.


Some well-spent time later they heard Dawn coming home.

“Spike! Quick! The door of my room isn’t locked, please go lock it!” Buffy panted, nose pressed in the pillows. Spike climbed off her with a shrug. Buffy turned her head to follow him with her eyes. He walked to the door completely comfortable in his nakedness, cock bobbing proudly in front of him. He was so beautiful, slender and sculpted like a Greek statue, only with a different size dick, thankfully.

Spike slapped her ass lightly. “Up with it, sweetheart, yes, that’s good, that’s it…”

“Hurry, baby, I have to talk to Dawn, and we have to go see Giles!” Buffy said, gasping.

“You want fast? I can do fast! Hold on, love…”

Buffy held on to the bed for dear life as Spike pounded into her brutally, reducing her to a squealing mass of jelly in no time at all. With a grunt he slid out of her and fell back on the bed, chest heaving.

“Was that quick or wasn’t it?”

Buffy flapped her hand weakly, unable to talk just yet.


Dawn was in the kitchen when Buffy came down after their somewhat prolonged shower, doing homework. She greeted Buffy with a knowing look and a wide smile.

“I figured I’d better stay down here,” she explained, “What with all the squeaking and pounding going on!”

“Um, yeah, sorry about that.” Buffy sat down gingerly on a stool and eyed Dawn’s snack hungrily.

Dawn eyed Buffy’s slightly stiff, careful movements. “Don’t give me any details please, but it looks like you had a good time, finally. Hey, I told the principal you were sick. Don’t you just love me? And do you want me to make you some pancakes?”

“Dawnie, you’re the best sister ever. And I think you are way too young to have that look on your face!”

“Yeah, like you weren’t dating Angel at my age?”

Buffy grumbled something under her breath, but was too relaxed to make an issue of it. She was wolfing down the pancakes that Dawn was making, slathering them liberally with syrup, when Spike walked in, looking rather bashful and un–dangerous in Joyce’s old sweats.

“Spike!” Dawn squealed and jumped around his neck. “I’m so happy for you! Pancakes? And I bought you some blood on the way back from school!”

Spike felt quite touched, more than he liked to admit actually. “You’re a right sweet morsel, Bit. Ta, won’t mind if I do.”

Spike glanced at Buffy and gestured at Dawn. Did you tell her, his face asked. Buffy pointed at her full mouth. The look on Spike’s face indicated that Dawn should be told now. Buffy swallowed the last bit of pancake and moistened her lips.

“Um, Dawn? I asked Spike to come live with me?”

“Sure. On one condition.” Dawn didn’t even look up from the pancakes. “I want industrial strength earmuffs.”


Anya was just coming out of Giles’ front door when Buffy and Spike walked up. She looked a little flustered.

“Hey, Buffy, Spike, I’ve been helping Giles search the Magic Box. Bye!”

She practically ran off. Spike’s nostrils flared, but he kept his thoughts to himself. They went in the new apartment, which was rather overflowing with Giles’ as yet unpacked necessities, mostly crates of books.

“Giles!” Buffy called out sweetly. She quickly became impatient, however, and yelled: “Giles! Emergency!”

No Giles emerged. Spike drew Buffy towards the couch. “We’ll wait here, love, give the man some privacy.”

There were many pleasant ways to while away the time with one’s new girlfriend, and they were busy availing themselves of some of them, when they heard heavy footsteps coming down.

Giles coughed. “Emergency?”

Buffy and Spike flew apart before conscious memory could reassert itself.

“Hi Giles,“ Buffy said lamely. “I...we…had a pretty scary experience last night, and we needed to talk to you about it.”

“Last night? So this emergency occurred at least twenty hours ago? Humph. Drink anyone?”

Spike accepted readily, but Buffy declined. “Do you British people ever not drink?”

“No, not really. If we were at home, we’d be over at our regular already.” Giles sloshed in good measures of scotch in two glasses.

“Regular what? Bar?”

“Pub, actually. A wonderful institution that I sorely miss.” Giles settled himself on the couch, looking and smelling freshly washed. “Cheers! Now tell me, Buffy.”

“Spike? You first?” Buffy asked, blushing before the fact.

“Coward!” he said, but started nonetheless. “I was out for a stroll last night, doing nothing in particular. Suddenly I got this compulsion, this urge to go in a certain direction. Bleeding irresistible scent, couldn’t stop myself. And then I found Buffy, starkers, smeared with mud and whatnot. She shook her tits at me, jumped me, shagged me three ways to Thursday, and then almost staked me. With this creepy absent look in her eye. Tried to talk to her, but the premises were vacant, mate, nobody home. At the absolute last sodding second Buffy got back, and that’s why I’m not dust, I’m sure.”

Giles touched his nose absently, as if looking for his glasses. “Buffy? Eerily reminiscent of your recent Slayer dreams?”

“I’ll say!” Spike said derisively. “Rupert, mate, this is what I’ve been fearing from the moment go. This aura relaxing stuff that’s been going down has given this primitive spirit or what have you access to Buffy! We need to know how she can defend herself against it. Don’t wanna get staked by accident in my sleep!”

“Why would Buffy stake you in your bedroom? Never mind!” Giles added hastily, as his own brain provided a belated answer.

“Bufgfy, how did you experience this?”

“Well, I pretty much experienced totally nothing until I found myself naked in a graveyard, about to stake Spike!”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s never happened to you before.” At Buffy’s look: “It’s called sarcasm, Buffy. Have you no memories of what went on prior to the staking incident?”

“Not really memories…vague impressions, maybe. I didn’t understand my shoes, so I tore them of, I didn’t understand zippers or bra’s, I couldn’t understand what Spike was saying. I knew he was this old vampire, and that he was my prey. And all the others didn’t interest me. Oh God! Giles! There were dozens of vampires there! They must have been drawn to me by the odor too, and they were watching! They were watching while Spike and I – “

“Shagged?” supplied Spike helpfully.

“I’m sure Giles got that one, Spike. No need to spell it out!” Buffy hissed and elbowed him in the ribs.

“Fascinating! You did mention leaving, um, clues to lure your prey to you in the dreams. But apparently the Slayer manufactures a special pheromone! And it drew other vampires as well? Could you turn it on right now, Buffy?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Emphatically, no! And even if I could, it would be…”

Spike was laughing his head off. “…bloody embarrassing, Rupert. I am a vampire, remember?”

Giles ran his hand though his hair. “I see your point. We’ll have to take, um, precautions of some kind, then…”

Spike shook his head. “You’d have to tie us up and knock us out, three counties apart, and even then…I’m talking truly irresistible, you have no idea, like blood, like honey, like mother’s milk... And if you did it at night, you’d have half the vampire population of Sunnydale on your doorstep.”

“Only half?” Buffy pouted.

Giles checked his watch. “Why don’t we call a meeting tomorrow? To my great surprise I’ve actually found, with Anya’s help, the amulet the other Buffy was talking about. We could do research, try some trances with Buffy, see if we can call this spirit, or whatever it may be, up at will, or control it?’

Continued in Love me tender (13)

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