Title: Detour Author: kindred Disclaimer: The BtVS characters are the property of Joss Whedon and his associates. Rating: NC-17 Feedback: Yes Summary: Future fic. Vengeance, memory and the course of true love. A/N: Well, this is it, the final installment. I thank you for taking this journey with me. Thanks also to Sandra S, Caroline G, Kur and the Mighty Teapot! I am grateful for your enthusiasm and encouragement. :) Epilogue "This sure beats videos and popcorn for post slayage relaxation." Buffy lay against Spike's chest in a claw footed bathtub filled with rose scented water, munching on a chocolate dipped strawberry held between his fingertips. "Mmm...I think I'm actually at boneless." She lazily sucked a smudge of chocolate from the pad of his thumb. "Can't say the same here, pet." Spike tossed aside a tiny strawberry stem end and wrapped his arms around Buffy, holding her possessively to his chest. A slippery, naked slayer draped over his body intermittently sucking his chocolate flecked fingertips wasn't exactly the recipe for bonelessness. She wiggled back against him and sighed contentedly at his rigid response. "Oh yeah, definitely of the bone-full capacity there." A low rumble resonated from deep in Spike's chest. He was obviously ready for another round, and he had the cheek to call her insatiable? With a dreamy sigh Buffy reached blindly toward the goody plate and found it empty. "Oh poo! No more strawberries? I need strawberries!" The plaintive mewl of her request paired with a pleading look toward Spike clearly indicated that strawberry wrangling was a task for an aroused vampire. He took immediate offense. "I'm not your bloody slave, Slayer," Spike spoke in an annoyed tone. "If you want more strawberries, then get up off your sweet arse and go buy them." He wasn't about to let her leave, but if she should happen to stand up he was ready to bite her bum. "Too tired," Buffy complained weakly and settled back for a long soak. Spike chuckled in agreement. "Yeah, pet, a good night's slaughter will do that to you." It had been a jam-packed evening: a little sightseeing, some unexpected mayhem of the slaying variety and then some athletic mayhem of the coital variety. As a result they were pleasantly exhausted. "Who would have thought that our trip to Paris would coincide with the ritual convergence of those sloth demon guys? Oh wait, maybe I should save my surprise for when I don't come up against a herd of demons while on vacation." Buffy sighed at the knowledge that despite being one slayer among many, destiny would probably always pit her against some kind of outrageously offensive demon horde at the most inopportune moment. "And why anyone would want to make the Eiffel Tower into a fountain of phlegm is beyond me." "It's a genome thing." Spike casually offered some insider demon information. "All the subphyla of Chaos demons are a pretty gooey lot. Most can be quite friendly, but the Slaeth? Nothing but a xenophobic bunch of buggers, if you ask me." "They were rude, weren't they?" "Rude? You interrupted their sacred ceremony with a stream of obscenities. Mouth on ya like a fish wife, I swear." Despite Spike's tender kiss to the side of her neck that didn't sound like a pleasing comparison to Buffy. She tilted her head for clarification. "I thought you liked my mouth." "Love your mouth, pet. Love it." He kissed her lips for emphasis. "Well, they deserved it. That was supposed to be our sightseeing smoochy time like in every chick flick I've ever seen with the perfect couple silhouetted against a twinkling cityscape with romantic musical accompaniment, not those burping blobs of-- Ugh. They were gross." Buffy shivered at the gelatinous recollection. "Well, I think your protest was duly noted after you killed their high priest without so much as a how-dee-do." "And you sliced and diced your way through the rabble." Buffy grinned up at him. "That really turned me on." "Really? Seeing me soaked to the skin in demon guts and gravy gets you hot?" "You know what I mean. It's how you move. You know, your sexy dance." "Didn't feel particularly sexy fighting off all them claws and teeth." "That just makes it sexier because you don't know you're doing it." "If you say so, love." "We make a kick ass team, don't we?" Buffy enthused. Spike smirked and kissed the tip of her nose in agreement. "And the best thing is my purchases survived the evening phlegm free!" "Can't say the same for the flowers, pet." The evening was not without its casualties. Buffy made a pitiful face. "They were kinda crushed, but I still love them and anyway, it's the thought that counts. Thank you. They're beautiful." "They were beautiful, now they're compost." "I'm sorry the day turned into a bust." Buffy's shoulders slumped. She had such romantic plans and wallowing in phosphorescent demon entrails was most definitely not on the menu. "I never said that," Spike looked into Buffy's eyes. "This was a great day: the lights of Paris, a spot of violence and a bloody fantastic shag? Couldn't have planned it better myself. This was a perfect day." Buffy perked up at that statement. "Shags," she corrected. "Hmm?" "Plural...as in many?" "Right, as in many." A sly grin indicated that Spike was now fully rested and ready for more. Buffy continued talking, oblivious to the rampant erotic signals he was sending her. "Dawn is going to love that beret I got for her." Spike paused in thought. "Which did you finally decide on, The Eiffel Tower one?" "Yeah, just like ours." "Ours? Buffy, you didn't get me that beret, right? You were just teasing." "What's wrong with a beret? It will make you look all sophisticated." "Bugger that. I don't do hats or sophisticated. Why mess with perfection?" Spike drew his fingers through his damp curls. "Please. A beret can be totally man-muffinish." "Do you even hear some of the things you come out with?" Her mangled slayer vocabulary left a lot to be desired. "Pepe Le Pew wore a beret." Buffy was not to be deterred. "And his lady fair couldn't get away from him fast enough." "But he always caught her in the end." "Notice how unaffected I am that you just compared me to a cartoon skunk. There was a time when that would have demanded immediate retaliation." Spike bit playfully along Buffy's shoulder with blunt teeth. "Careful, your manners are showing." "I am immune to your insults." Buffy felt his grin against her skin. "Let's get out of this tub before you turn into a prune, hmm?" Spike reached for a towel. He wrapped it around her torso and held her hand as she stepped out of the water. "Spike, if you don't wear your beret, my whole monkey sex with a Parisian vampire fantasy goes right out the window." "Nice try. I am not wearing it." Spike wrapped a towel around his waist. "I can so make you wear it...Pepe." Her eyes flashed an obvious challenge. With no warning Spike pounced on Buffy and hauled her out of the bathroom. He tossed her roughly upon the bed. She rolled off backward and reached for the bag of berets, freeing one in the process. "You're gonna look so cute when I'm through with you." Buffy lunged at him from across the bed. They wrestled over its surface and slid off onto the floor, only to roll around in a spirited and sensual skirmish, leaving their towels behind them in a wrinkled heap. Buffy concentrated on aiming the beret at Spike's head. "Come on, quit being a baby." With effort Spike managed to pin Buffy's wrists. The offending item slipped from her grasp. "Please?" Buffy batted her eyes. "You are an evil woman, Buffy Summers." "I had a good teacher...Pretty please? With monkey sex on top?" It was the pout that did him in. He released her wrists. "Bloody-- All right. One time." Buffy squeaked with delight and wriggled the circular hat over Spike's curls. He plastered a look of extreme boredom on his face. "Um," Buffy twisted her mouth. "Oh God, that's tea cozy territory. Maybe off to the side..." She continued to reposition the ill fitting beret. Nothing worked. It looked like a wilting pancake. Her expression wilted as well. "Told you, love. Hats are not my thing." With an annoyed sigh, Buffy pulled the beret off his head and tossed it aside. "Okay, I believe you. Hats are definitely out, but hat hair..." Buffy buried her fingers in his tousled locks. "Mmm...nummy. Kiss me, Monsieur Le Pew." "Buffy!" "What? Pepe is a stone cold stud." "Don't push it, Slayer." Spike gave a glare of warning and lowered his mouth to hers. "Might just have to work on your manners for a change." He nibbled on her lips and slowly deepened their kiss. "And what's wrong with my manners?" Buffy asked after the kiss subsided. "Well, you're stubborn." "Stubborn?" "And bossy." "What?" "Oh yeah. And I got news for you, Buffy. You're NOT the boss of me." "Oh no?" "Never. And you're willful too!" "Are you done?" "But you've got great potential." "Potential!? You hit me with 'potential'!?" Buffy tried to scramble out from under him. "And I'm glad to know you." Buffy stilled and looked into his quiet face. "You are?" Spike nodded. "And I love you. You know I do." "Aww...Kiss me, Pepe." Buffy pursed her lips in an exaggerated pucker. "See? That's stubborn." "And you love it. Admit it, skunk-boy!" "And that's definitely on the road to willful." Spike snarled his reply. "Oh, I'll show you willful." Buffy gripped Spike's shoulders and flipped them, emerging on top once again. Spike's lip curled with sinful anticipation as Buffy captured his neglected erection and held it poised for insertion. "Do we need a little reminder, Spike?" She slid down over his shaft and started an easy rhythm. "Criticism and Buffy are unmixy things." "Bollocks!" Spike flashed Buffy a feral sneer knowing full well how it would entice her. "Repeat after me," Buffy's eyes glinted with mischief. "Buffy good." "Mmm, I'll say," Spike grinned in agreement and started rocking his hips into hers. "Say Buffy good." "Buffy...very...good." "Kiss ass." "All in good time, love." Spike slapped his palm soundly against Buffy's bottom and then squeezed her muscled flesh. Buffy countered with a familiar intimate clench, much to Spike's delight. "I know what my bad boy likes...stubborn, bossy, willful...all the good stuff." She eased her hold on him and continued at a slower pace. "Yeah." "Now, if I remember correctly, there's a little Paris inspired activity that you particularly enjoy...and here we are in Paris..." Buffy blinked her eyes with coquettish zeal. "True." A devilish pulse sprang from Spike's eyes. "I brought a few scarves," Buffy suggested. "That might work okay." "It'll have to do until I can get us some proper chains." "Where are you going to find chains?" Spike took advantage of Buffy's pause to roll them once more. "This is Paris, Buffy. I can get anything." The corner of his mouth quirked with mischief. "What do you say I find you a tight little cheer leader outfit while I'm at it?" Buffy swallowed heavily. "I was only an alternate, Spike. I couldn't remember those dumb cheers if my life depended on it." "No worries, pet. It's not so much the cheers I'm interested in anyway." His eyebrow arched with erotic precision. "Oh. OH! Okay. I think I can remember how to shake my pom poms." "That's my girl." The End.