Past Perfect

by SpikesKat

Buffy raced into the deserted alleyway, the sounds of “Randy’s” bewildered shouts coming closer as he chased after her. She bit her lip as she struggled not to laugh, not wanting to confuse Spike anymore than she already had.

After her comment and the gang’s subsequent reactions – she’d especially liked Giles’ blustery “dear lord!” – Buffy had done her best to re-enact the scene in the Magic Box. Except she’d called herself Buffy instead of Joan when making up a name for herself. After pointing the others in the direction of the sewer tunnels, she and “Randy” had forced their way outside and led the group of vampires away. She knew she didn’t have a lot of time before the spell was reversed and their memories were returned – and what she figured would be the end of her dream. Which was why she’d been a tad forceful as she’d plowed her way through the group of vamps, dusting two right off the bat with minimal effort on her behalf.  

Then Spike had done his whole “superhero” thing and she’d suppressed a grin with how endearing he looked – almost like that time… No, not going there. This was supposed to be a fun, lighthearted – maybe get a bit of action – dream. Reliving the more poignant memories could wait until she was awake.

Speaking of...

“Buffy? Buffy, why did you run away? You know I wouldn’t hurt you, right?”

And cue her melting.

He’d rarely ever said her name, oftentimes settling on a derisive “Slayer.” To hear it now? Yeah. It still brought chills. Just the way he said it, like it was the sweetest word that had ever left his lips. And as for the other? No, he wouldn’t, hurt her, that is. After their time in that abandoned warehouse, every word, every taunt, every sexual encounter had been to help her heal. Hell, he’d goaded her into hitting him often enough, and she’d nearly beat him within an inch of his unlife time and time again, just so she wouldn’t take any of the anger and hostility she felt towards her friends out on them.  

She knew that now.  

In hindsight.

She stepped from behind a wooden crate and into Spike’s line of sight. He was still sporting that part confused part hurt countenance from earlier, and Buffy’s heart nearly broke. Eager to wipe that expression from his face, as well as banish the ghosts of her past, she hurried forward, grabbed him by the lapels of his woolen blazer and thrust him up against the brick wall.

Buffy had a moment to witness the astonishment in his startled blue eyes before she sealed her lips to his.  

She had to admit, he recovered quickly, switching their positions so that it was she with her back pressed up against the wall. His compact frame leaning into hers until there wasn’t a sliver of space between their bodies. He felt good, just like she remembered, the moan at the feel of his hard angles hitting all the right spots forcing her mouth open. Something of which he took instant advantage, his tongue sliding between her parted lips to duel with her own. The kiss was carnal, and unrelenting, as if he somehow knew who he was, and that he’d done this before. Even if the event had yet to happen in this time.

Buffy didn’t care. Just pulled him even closer while his mouth continued to plunder hers.

As his hands began to roam over her arms, her shoulders, one slowly making its way down her side and firmly cupping her breast, she was struck with the thought of how real the dream actually felt. Unlike her waking memories, where she relived each moment she’d spent in his company, every shadowy caress, she felt like this was truly happening. Her fantasies come to life, for real this time.

It made her desperate for more. To experience their joining before something pulled her from sleep, leaving her frantically grasping at straws as the images faded away. Renewed by her sense of purpose, her fingers sought the button of his woolen pants, making quick work of releasing the fastening and lowering the zipper.

In true Spike fashion, he wore no underwear, providing her questing hands instant access to his hard cock. As her fingers closed around his length and pulled him free, Buffy felt him gasp into her mouth, like he’d been unaware that he went commando. Something that caused her to silently smile.

Her actions seemed to set him aflame, because his hands were suddenly everywhere, her slacks shredding beneath his claws when they didn’t come off fast enough. Not that he noticed. Or that she cared. It was still a dream after all, and Buffy figured if she concentrated hard enough, she could keep someone from appearing in their darkened alley.

A cool finger brought her back to the present. And when had her panties disappeared?

“Yer ready for me, aren’cha, Buffy?” Spike growled in her ear. “Make you hot, I do.”

Oh boy, did he! Even when he was unchipped and they’d been fighting tooth and nail against one another, he’d still managed to make her cream her panties. Spike had had the right of it, fighting was definitely a form of foreplay. She’d just been too locked away in her own misery to understand. “Please…. hurry,” she whimpered and was rewarded with a single digit slowly easing its way between her outer folds to plunge deep within her pussy. Her fingers tightened reflexively on his shaft, and she heard his breath hiss through his teeth as he pushed his hips forward into her tight grasp. Buffy bucked against his hand, her clit grinding into his palm, desperate for some type of friction. It wasn’t enough; her body knew what it wanted. And the finger teasing her – no matter how expertly wielded – could not compare to the feel of his cock and how it filled her so completely. Her mouth turned down in a pout, her frustration mounting.

“Mmmm, pet. So wet,” he murmured huskily against her ear, sliding another two fingers inside her moist passage with little resistance. She was a ripe one, coating his digits with her growing ardor, her legs splaying wider to take more of him. Her hand… fuck yeah! It seemed to know just what he liked, her grip bordering on the rough side as she pumped him vigorously.

The scent of her continued to wash over him, proving too much for his control, and his features shifted to that of his demon. His amber gaze zeroed in on the pulse point in her neck, mouth watering as he wondered what she’d taste like. And if he didn’t focus and wrench his cock free, he’d be spilling his load long before he was ready.  

Buffy sensed the change in him and lifted her leg to wrap around his waist as he pulled his fingers free. Followed seconds later by her leaning away from the wall and literally jumping him. She felt the head of his cock brush against her entrance, then she was slammed back against the wall as he thrust himself inside her.

She saw stars, not from colliding with the unyielding surface, but from the feeling of pleasure that washed over her at being stretched so completely. She couldn’t help it, gasping his name as he buried his face in her neck. He must not have heard her, or was too far gone in lust to register that it had been “Spike” and not “Randy” that had issued forth past her lips.

Then nothing mattered except the feel of him inside her, how he knew just how to angle his hips to drive her closer to the edge. She clung to him, her fingers making a mess of the slicked-back curls on his head, her teeth nibbling on any exposed piece of his flesh she could find.  

Already she could feel her orgasm approaching. It had been a long time, after all, and the setting combined with his borderline savagery that was so much a precursor during their sexual relationship had her engines humming and eager for the checkered flag. Spike, too, seemed to have the same thought, his pace steadily increasing with each passing moment.

When he stilled abruptly, Buffy couldn’t prevent her cry of frustration. She was so close. Could actually feel the beginning tingling in her lower extremities that announced her imminent climax. She felt him shift next to her and she relaxed her grip marginally so that he could look her at her.

His expression of wide-eyed wonder, brought tears to her eyes.

“Buffy?” he whispered, his fingers caressing her face with the barest of touches.

It was him. Spike. The spell had been reversed, and she was now intimately entwined with the vampire that had tried for over a year to get her to see him. Confusion, love, his eyes expressed his emotions so effortlessly – something she’d never taken the time to notice before.

And she was suddenly transported back to another time. Another wall. How she’d lowered herself down on him and watched transfixed the riotous play of emotions that had crossed his features before they’d begun kissing in earnest. Just thinking about it made her inner muscles constrict around his length, causing him to bite his lip and stifle a groan.

“Buf—Slayer? Wha—?”

“Shhh,” she whispered, pressing a finger to his lips, halting his questions. Her dream; she didn’t want to waste it with words. Shallow, perhaps. But, at times, when words wouldn’t come, they’d often spoken this way. Their bodies expressing all that lay locked away inside. Her grip firm about his lean hips, she slowly lifted herself off his cock, her butt connecting with the wall behind her, then inch-by-decadent-inch, she impaled herself all over again. Buffy repeated the movement once, twice, before Spike took over, pressing her back flush against the wall so that it was he that controlled their movements.

His pace was slow and unhurried, unlike before, as if he were trying to make love to her there against the wall. Prove to her that he didn’t have to be a monster. Once more her tears threatened to fall. Spike’s tender lovemaking had the same effect as his earlier ones, his slow, deep thrusts hitting the exact same spot over and over causing her muscles to tighten in anticipation.

So caught up in what she was feeling, she didn’t feel him shift against her neck, his sharp canines piercing her throat with precision. Buffy gasped at the sting, her eyes going wide for a second, until they screwed shut as her orgasm ripped through her body. She arched into him, unconsciously driving his fangs deeper, setting off another wave of explosions throughout her slight frame.

She heard his muffled growl as he continued to pull blood into his mouth, sometimes hard, sometimes barely lapping at the wounds with his tongue. Buffy remembered, her body remembered, how he’d handcuffed her to the bed after she’d done her own bondage experimenting. How he’d fucked her until she’d screamed his name, then bitten her and dragged out her orgasm for what seemed like hours, all from his varied methods of sucking the blood from her neck.

It had been a week before she’d gone back for more, not liking how he’d managed to turn the tables on her. How she’d almost told him how she really felt, if only to get him to stop, her pleasure crossing over into pain at being constantly stimulated without relent.

This time she gave without reservation, her whispered, “I love you,” dragging his mouth from her neck, Spike’s penetrating gaze searching her features for any hint of a lie. She stared back at him with all the love she felt, her face flushed in the aftermath of her climax.  

Whatever he’d seen seemed to appease him, his eyes closed, his jaw clenched, and he gave himself over to finding his own release. His thrusts were erratic, his normal finesse gone by the wayside at her confession. A handful of pumps of his hips and he was shouting her name and filling her with his seed.

His fangs unerringly finding his previous marks and biting deep…

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy woke with a start, momentarily disoriented as she tried to recover from her vivid dream. Her hand lifted automatically to stem the flow of blood, pausing halfway to its destination before realizing it had been just a dream.

“Buffy! Are you all right?” Giles asked, concern evident on his features as he leaned over the back of the couch to look down at her.

“Giles! What—?”

“You must have been having a bad dream. You screamed, though now that I think on it…” His voice trailed off.

“It’s alright, Giles. It was nothing.” She mentally shook herself and swung her legs over the side of the couch. She was tired, like her body had gotten too much sleep. Then she remembered.  

Giles had given her something. Some type of potion to make her sleep.  

Her eyes narrowed as she gained her feet, swaying slightly when a wave of dizziness assaulted her. She turned around to glare at him, pointing a finger in his direction as she demanded, “What the hell did you give me, and just how long have I been asleep?”

“Uh… I… I told you,” he stammered under the force of her stare. “It was just a light sleeping draught. Non-habit forming. And, you’ve only been sleeping for a couple of hours, which was why I hesitated to wake you. You need your rest, Buffy.”

“Oh…” Her anger deflated instantly in the face of his response. “Two hours? It feels like I’ve been asleep for days. Why do I feel so tired?” she asked and collapsed back onto the couch. She reached for the blanket and drew it up over her shoulders. Already her eyes were starting to droop.

“It’s the herbs,” Giles explained, resettling the blanket over her feet. “They’re designed to let the person sleep uninterrupted for about eight hours straight.”

“Hmmm… that’s nice,” she mumbled, almost halfway there. Buffy curled on her side, her hands tucked against her neck, brushing over the freshly healed marks there. She smiled, reassured by their presence, and settled into a deep slumber.

~*~*~*~*~

“We deal with whatever comes next,” Angel told his crew as he opened the envelope he’d been given. The object clattered soundlessly to the floor, instantly glowing to life as if jarred awake.

A mist ejected from the huge stone, gaining in size and density as it swirled in a tight circle in mid air. A figure appeared, its skeletal remains slowly taking shape until it coalesced into the image of Spike. The spiraling cloud disappeared abruptly and Spike, snarling in pain and confusion, fell to the ground at Angel’s feet.

“Is that…..?” Wesley began.

“Spike,” Angel growled.

Hearing his name, the vampire rolled over, his tormented amber gaze taking in the countenance of his displeased sire.

“Angelus?” he questioned before he passed out.  

The End

Challenge Requirements:

Post "Chosen," possibly even Post "NFA," Buffy somehow, (you decide how) is sent back in time to the episode "Tabula Rasa" in her younger body. She gets there just as Spike is doing the "Randy Giles" rant about why not just name me ’Desperate for a shag’ Giles. Without thinking Future Buffy replies, "You don’t have to be desperate, I’ll shag you anytime." then go from there. PWP. ^_^

And, because I couldn’t resist an epilogue....

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