"You really shouldn't have come back, Spike."
"Slayer, are you stuck in a loop? You've said that at least a dozen times in the last hour."
Buffy glared at the annoying vampire for a long moment, then went back to tugging on the door knob which was attached to a very heavy, very locked steel door. With a huff she gave up and flounced over to the one chair in what could only be called a dungeon. "This sucks."
"Feel free to suck on anything of mine, pet."
"EWWWW!" As she made a horrified face at him, she flopped in the chair and crossed her arms defensively over her chest. "You're a pig, Spike."
"I heard you like pigs. Got you a cute stuffed one you cuddle up with at night. Make a good Angel substitute, does it?" He leered at her from where he leaned against one of the walls in the ten by ten stone room lit by a bare bulb and furnished with the one chair and an intriguing pair of manacles hanging on the opposite wall.
"Shut up, Spike," she snarled.
"Don't take your bitchiness and suppressed horniness out on me. I'm not the one who put the clause in the curse."
"If I had a stake..." she muttered.
Spike snorted and tapped a cigarette out of the pack in his hand and lit it.
"Oh great, now I get to get lung cancer, too."
"Look on the bright side. You won't live long enough to suffer."
"Is that a threat?" Buffy started to rise to her feet, then sat back as he shook his head and actually looked a bit embarrassed by the harshness of his statement.
"Just a fact," he mumbled around the cigarette, then forced out more cheer, "Peaches will find us soon enough. It's his dungeon, after all."
"If you hadn't been slinking around the mansion, I wouldn't have followed you and we wouldn't be locked in here together on New Year's Eve. This isn't how I planned to spend New Year's Eve, Spike."
"You think I wanted this either, Slayer? This four breasted Eilwren was going to rock my world at midnight."
"That's really..." With a shudder of horror, she lapsed into silence.
Spike glanced at his watch and with a sigh sank down onto his haunches, wondering when Angel would find them.
*****
He was kind of amazed she made it to nearly two hours of silence before she began whining again. Tuning her out, Spike decided that they were probably stuck there for a while and his date with the Eilwren maiden wasn't going to happen, so why let the goodies go to waste. Opening his carry-all, he took out a bottle of champagne and a pastry box.
At the sight of the white box with the pink ribbon from the best bakery in town, Buffy snapped her lips shut and sat up straighter.
"Is that food?"
"Chocolate cake."
"From Pernell's?" Eagerness made her face glow as she leaned forward, hands clenching around the chair seat to keep from leaping on the cake box.
"Don't want it to go stale. I supposed I could share..." he pretended hesitancy.
"Gimme!"
Rolling his eyes, Spike passed over the cake box, then turned to opening the champagne. The ricochet of the cork around the dungeon made her shriek and duck, but not lose the cake that was perched on her knees.
"Watch it, bozo!"
"I could have aimed it at you."
"You could lose your privates, too."
The bickering went on while the entire cake was consumed and Buffy snatched the bottle from him and took a big swig of sparkling wine to wash down the chocolate.
"Ick."
When Spike reached for the bottle, she didn't return it, though.
*****
An hour later Spike looked down to where the giggling Slayer was rolling on the floor at one of his really bad jokes, and snickered softly to himself. About half a cup of wine and she was plastered.
"You'd think a Slayer would have a stronger constitution," he murmured.
"Is that like the Slayer Handbook? 'Cause I didn't get one of those." One of her hands lashed out and landed on his thigh.
Spike looked down at the hand, then smirked even more. "Higher, luv."
"Not high. Drunk." Her hand moved on his thigh as she struggled to sit up. Spike poked one finger against her shoulder and she toppled over again.
"Smart of the prat to put carpet down her, though must be hell to get blood out of."
"Ew?" Buffy's eyes went round as she glanced over her head to the manacles. "Blood?"
"Dungeon, Slayer."
"Then why the carpet?"
"Angelus likes his creature comforts. Bare stone is hard on the knees."
"Why would he be on his knees?"
He gave her an incredulous look and shook his head. "Should I show you?"
"Sure."
The incredulous look became permanent and he softly groaned as lust went straight to his groin.
He hadn't come back to Sunnydale for the Slayer no matter what Dru said.
He hadn't.
...
Fuck.
"Close your eyes."
"Is this a game? Are you going to feed me more cake?"
"You ate all the cake, and just close your eyes."
When she did, grumbling a bit about bossy vampires, Spike leaned down and hesitantly tasted her lips. When she didn't shriek or jerk away or hit him, he deepened the kiss, parting her lips to allow his tongue to play.
It was met by Buffy's enthusiastic tongue and her arms wrapped around him to drag him down to her. When he finally pulled his mouth free of hers, she was panting and her eyes were sparkling with need, and his own body was aching and throbbing in anticipation.
"Slayer?" he whispered.
"You taste like chocolate," she giggled, her fingers wrapping around the lapels of his duster to pull him into another kiss.
Spike mentally said 'to hell with it' and reached for the hem of her slinky dress.
A few moments of kissing and groping and rolling around and Buffy was left naked except for one silly pink high-heeled sandal, and Spike wore only his unbuttoned jeans. As she parted her legs and moaned his name--which wiped out the hint of worry that she was pretending he was Angel--Spike slithered the denim down his legs and got one leg free before she grabbed his ass and rocked her pelvis against his.
"Shit," he groaned as her wet heat soaked into his hard, aching cock. "Just a second."
"Now!" Buffy lifted her head from the pillow of his shirt and bit his chin.
"Ow!"
"Now!"
Glowering down at her and his cock which had throbbed painfully in response to the erotic bite, Spike wrapped his hands around her knees and pressed her legs up towards her shoulders.
"What are you doing?" Raising on her elbows, Buffy tried to glare but ended up giggling. "I'm not a pretzel."
"Damn flexible, though," Spike muttered and shifted to his knees, thrusting his hips forward and driving the head of his cock into her.
As Buffy's eyes widened, Spike nearly died of shock. So hot, so tight.
No one had been here since his sire nearly a year ago, he was sure of it.
In awe, he sank further into her as she began to squirm and whimper.
"So good," they mumbled at the same time, then blindly found each other's mouths in a hungry, passionate kiss.
*****
Much later Spike lay propped on one elbow watching the Slayer sleep. He'd covered her with his duster partly to keep her warm and partly in a perverse determination to get her scent all over the leather.
He could admit it now. Drusilla'd been right. He was hung up on the Slayer. He was perverse and insane.
Damn it felt good.
In all her inexperience she'd still been one of the best damn shags of his life. All that fire and passion and wonder and excitement.
He wondered what she'd do to him when she woke up. He figured she'd kick his ass, but he hoped...
Well, it WAS a new year.
End