- Where in the World is Buffy Summers? – Chapter 1
- Where in the World is Buffy Summers? – Chapter 2
- Where in the World is Buffy Summers – 8/12
- Fic: Where in the World is Buffy Summers? – Chapter 9/12
- Fic: Where in the World is Buffy Summers? – Chapter 10/12
- Fic: Where in the World is Buffy Summers? – Chapter 11/12
- Fic: Where in the World is Buffy Summers? – Chapter 12/12
Title: Where in the World is Buffy Summers?
Rating: NC-17 (this chapter)
Summary: Smut – finally!
The vampires unknowingly led her to a nondescript warehouse and approached a side door with two sentries keeping watch. She saw one of the vamps from the attack reach out and rap the door smartly with the “shave and a hair cut” sequence. Her small smile at that incongruence quickly disappeared when the door opened and Katya was taken inside. For the first time she wondered about the minions Spike had collected. Had he made them? Inherited them from the old Master? She believed with all her heart that he was not evil, but the presence of these unknown vamps was troubling.
Trying to reach a decision, she sank to the ground in a cross-legged pose, closed her eyes and breathed deeply, centering herself and extending her senses. She had always been an intuitive Slayer, but love had once interfered with her duty and she needed to make completely sure that she was clear-headed this time.
She didn’t have to search too far within herself to figure it out – Spike would never hurt her again. Even if he had gone evil, which she didn’t believe for one minute, he’d give her a fair chance. She might even be able to secure the release of the baby slayers. Satisfied with her soul-searching, she arose and scaled down the building. She was counting on Lynn and Amber to delay their return to the Academy, but she struck quickly anyway. One sentry was dust and the other was pinned against the door before his friend’s ashes had settled.
“I’m the one he’s looking for,” she growled through clenched teeth. “You’re going to take me to him, but we do this my way or I’ll find another minion who will get it right.” She poked him sharply with the stake perched over his heart and he nodded vigorously.
“Yes, your way, of course! Now if you’d just let me down please…” She set him down and just as quick he had a crossbow pointed at his back.
“Take me somewhere he isn’t, and make sure no one sees us.” Nodding, the sentry rapped on the door again and sent whoever answered on a made-up errand. They slipped in the door and he carefully led her through a maze of corridors to Spike’s room. The Master would be overseeing the arrival of the new hostage and would arrive here shortly, he assured Buffy.
“Go back to your post,” she ordered him. “There are teams of slayers and watchers out looking for this place. Let me know if any come near here.” He nodded again and backed out of the room, relieved to be still un-living. He knew, as all the vampires here did, that Buffy Summers was the endgame and the Master had given orders that she was not to be harmed in any way. Of course, he wasn’t going to let the girl surprise his Master; he’d find Spike and let him know who was waiting for him.
But Spike hadn’t stuck around long after they brought the newest slayer in. He took the back passage to his quarters where he could sulk and rant in private. Where the hell was Buffy?, he thought to himself as he slammed open his door, repeating the thought aloud once he was inside.
Buffy heard footsteps in the corridor just after her guide left and realized she didn’t have time to find a proper hiding place. In the darkened room she could just make out the shape of a bed and she threw herself on the covers and struck what she hoped was a provocative pose. The door flew open with a bang.
“Where the hell are you, Slayer?”
“Right where you want me,” she ad-libbed, and had to smile when she heard a muffled curse and a click and the room flooded with light.
Spike froze when he saw Buffy reclining on his bed. He drank in the sight of her like a man dying of thirst. She was dressed entirely in black with her beautiful hair hidden under a cap. Seeing his eyes linger on top of her head, she scooted off the bed and approached him, tugging her cap off and shaking her head like an actress in a shampoo commercial.
He fell to his knees and looked up into her eyes, his face vulnerable and open.
“Buffy, is it really you? After all this time, after all I’ve been through, are you finally here?”
She placed a hand on his head, rubbing over the short hairs there. He’d had a buzz cut, and it was soft and brown. But his face was as handsome as ever. Piercing blue eyes were filled with longing and she had to be closer. Sinking to her knees, she cupped his face. “I’m right here baby, and everything’s going to be alright now.”
“I tried so hard to get to you…Angel sent me all over…”
“I know. Giles was in on it too. They’re looking for you right now. They think…”
“Yeah, the baby slayers. They’re all right Buffy. I’ve got ‘em, but they’re okay. I couldn’t think of another way…”
“You needed me to come to you.”
“That’s it. That’s it exactly.” Spike touched his forehead to Buffy’s. “I don’t know what you must be thinking right now.”
Buffy stood and pulled Spike up with her and ran her hand over his head for the second time. “I’m wondering why you cut your hair, for one,” she grinned, and led him to the bed where they both sat on the edge, hands clasped and bodies pressed together.
“Disguise. From all the vamps who want to take a shot at me.” He looked at the floor because he couldn’t bear to watch her when he told her why. But she beat him to it.
“Because you’re the Master of London.”
“Bad news travels fast, yeah?”
“Is it really that bad?”
“Didn’t intend for it to happen…”
“Tell me, Spike. Tell me all of it.” So he did. Starting with his reappearance as a ghost in Angel’s office he told of the despair and frustration he’d felt at his inability to even stay where he wanted. He spoke of the box that gave him his body back and sheepishly recounted his ill-fated liaison with Harmony, begging her to understand that he desperately needed just to be touched. He relayed his desire to surprise her in Europe and the circumstances of the inadvertent dusting that led to his current status. He mentioned the help he received from Ilona in Rome and Willy and Clem in Cleveland. He shared the anger and rage he felt towards Angel for all the misdirection and the surprising warmth of Faith’s impromptu tribute in Willy’s. And through it all, he maintained the hope that he would eventually find her and have a happy reunion.
“I never doubted you for a minute, you know,” she said. By now they were lying together giving gentle touches and reassuring caresses.
“Your belief in me is what kept me going when I wanted to give up. That was one of the best moments of my un-life – when you told me you believed in me. Stuck in that coffin in the airplane I played that over and over again in my noggin.”
“I dreamed about that – you in the coffin, and getting your head shaved. I thought I was going crazy and…oh my god! I just can’t keep my hands off it…it’s so soft!” she giggled, touching his head yet again.
“Touch all you want, luv. I can’t tell you how good that feels…Oh God!” His body arched off the bed when her hands wandered a bit farther south and began caressing his other head through his jeans. The talking had been nice, wonderful really, but this was what he’d been waiting for. To be touched and loved by the woman who’d changed his life. He’d been half hard since they lay on the bed and was fully aroused the instant she touched him. He pushed his hips into her strokes and was about to lose himself when he remembered something.
“Buffy, luv, we haven’t even kissed yet.”
“Well let’s fix that, shall we?”
The kiss was like the past half-hour had been; soft, sweet, and gentle. Buffy took in his taste and scent and realized something was different.
“You’re not smoking anymore, are you?” He’d always smelled of cigarettes, whiskey, and leather. That combination had always annoyed her at first, then took on a whole different meaning the year she used him. She’d wanted those smells and tastes to be repulsive, but there was comfort there, no matter how fervently she denied it.
The smell of tobacco did remain in the coat, which Spike had shed when they moved to the bed. He was still drinking, though, and she licked his lips to taste more. She still wouldn’t touch the stuff, not after the night of drinking they’d once shared, but diluted through him she loved it. When she finished exploring his mouth he finally responded.
“Just don’t have much of a taste for it anymore, pet.” Rolling to his side, he lifted the hem of her shirt and nuzzled her breasts through the satin of her bra. “’Sides, I can think of better things to put in my mouth.” He tugged her soft breasts out of their confinement and planted generous kisses everywhere he could reach, swiping a sneaky tongue over her nipples every so often. When he had her moaning and felt her hips pumping, he slowly wriggled his fingers under the waistband of her slacks and cupped her greedy mound.
He pressed his hand the length of her slit, through her panties, and wiggled it firmly. Buffy allowed a few moments of this sweet pressure before she kicked off her shoes and slid her pants and underwear off. Spike helped get her sweater over her head and deftly unclasped her bra. When she was finally nude, he sat up to unlace his boots but Buffy’s hand on his chest stayed his movement.
“Let me.” Her voice was low and husky and Spike shivered at the gleam in her eye. But he trusted her to be gentle this time. There was no hint of the Buffy who’d treated him so roughly in the past. She kneeled astride one of his legs and pulled his foot to her naked torso. She took her time undoing his laces, letting the ends flick her nipples as they came free of the eyelets. Spike could only groan as she slowly revealed his feet, knowing that if he touched himself now he’d shoot like a rocket. For some reason he wanted them to come together while joined in the most intimate of places. It would be a different sort of climax than they’d done in the past, but it seemed right for this time.
Tossing his boots and socks on the floor, Buffy next set about undoing his fly. She quickly opened the buttons and he tilted his hips up, allowing her to slide his jeans down his legs and off the edge of the bed. While she got rid of his pants he whipped his shirt off and he tackled her to the bed. Pressing her into the mattress he thrust his pelvis against her, sliding his cock against her cunny.
“We forgot something else, Spike,” she gasped.
“What would that be, luv?”
She framed his strong face in her hands and kissed the tip of his nose. “I love you, and you’d better believe me this time.” She then emphasized her love by taking him into her body in a single thrust.
“God, Buffy! Yes, I believe you!” He tried to pull out- he needed some control-but she wrapped her legs around his hips and pushed against him.
“You’re not going anywhere, mister.”
“I don’t want to,” he panted. “Just need to slow down a tic. I got something that needs saying, too.” She complied and they moved gently together. “I love you too, Buffy. I’m yours, heart and soul, and I’m going to do my best by you.”
“I know, baby. I know. You don’t have anything to prove anymore.” But he had one more thing to show her. Using his body, he let her know how good they could be together when they were loving. Not hating, not using, not desperate. And when they were ready to ride the wave of passion to the other side, he showed her his demon face and she nodded, offering her neck to him in one last declaration of trust and love.
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/271983.html