Buffy sat on the swing, one foot tracing random patterns in the sand beneath her as she contemplated the mess that was slowly becoming her life.
She shouldn’t be feeling guilty because she dropped an organ on Spike. Just because he was her hottie dream guy…
He was evil. She was the Slayer. It was her job and all that.
Kissing Angel in an attempt to help banish the sinful thoughts she was still having about Spike was wrong though.
Now she had another problem – Ted. Man, what a whack job!
She needed to swear off men altogether. Vampires too.
Buffy was still preoccupied with thoughts of Spike as she patrolled with Angel, looking for the Gorches. Angel was kissing her, and while she let him, she did so with the image of a slighter vampire behind her closed lids.
Was he still alive? God, she hoped so. She couldn’t bear the thought of him being gone, even if it was her duty.
Angel sensed her distraction, tried kissing her harder – but she wasn’t there with him, the distance between them getting wider every second.
The crowd parted and Angel stood there. Then he was gone and it was Spike. She smiled and started to walk towards him. She could have him here, in her dreams.
Then suddenly, Drusilla was there. Buffy was too slow to stop the stake as it entered Spike’s back.
“Why?” she whispered.
“My Spike,” Drusilla hissed.
Angel was surprised to see her standing there.
“Be in me,” Drusilla murmured and walked inside.
She’d been worried about Angel, especially when he didn’t contact her the next day. Seeing him, seeing what he’d become, was like a nightmare come to life. He’d been her friend, and now…
Now he was just another vampire. One in a long line she was destined to kill.
Buffy headed deeper into the woods in search of the werewolf. The net took her by surprise, hoisting her high, and below her, she could hear a heated exchange.
Then he was there: he was in a wheelchair, his face scarred and creased with pain.
“Thanks, mate,” he said and handed a bundle of notes to somebody in the shadows.
Buffy’s heart raced. He was here! But did he want revenge?
Spike tried to hate her; but his eyes betrayed him. “Slayer, I…”
Hearing Giles near, Spike melted away, leaving behind a whispered, “I’ll be back, love.”
Buffy tried to hide her nudity, embarrassed. Oz, ever the gentleman, had gone to fetch some clothes.
So she was alone. Alone with her thoughts of Spike, and his promise to return.
She daydreamed, her arms unwrapping from her torso, hands skimming along her flesh to raise goose bumps as she imagined cool fingers caressing her nipples to hardness.
“Spike,” she murmured as her hands moved lower, sliding a finger along her cleft. As she rocked to her climax, screaming his name, Buffy admitted that she was his. Always.
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/214870.html