Title: Caught Between Two Lovers Author: Pattyanne snapkik@yahoo.com Disclaimer: All I own is nothing Summary: AU (sorta) Second season, around the time of School Hard. A retelling of Spike and Buffy's meeting. For the purposes of this story, Angel has never existed, and Spike is a little different. Feedback: Yes, please. All I can get. Part Nine.... Everlasting. (Yes, I like Survivor) ~~~~~ Heart and soul I come to you Are we meeting here on cue Just in time for a love affair ~~~~~ "What are you thinking about?" Buffy turned her head and looked up into his eyes. She'd mostly been concentrating on watching his hands as he maneuvered the huge car through heavy Saturday night traf- fic. She shrugged and snuggled closer. "That you're a really good driver," she said. "Ah, well," he smiled at her, "I've been at it for a while." "Is it fun?" There was a wistful tone in her voice that caught his attention. "Would you like to drive?" Buffy shook her head. "I don't have a license" He shrugged. "Neither do I." "Well...I wouldn't want to damage your car." "This car's a tank, angelface. It was built to last. Nothing short of a train hitting it is gonna cause a lot of damage." She squirmed in her seat, staring down at her hands. "That's not..completely..impossible." He chuckled. "What if I take you someplace where there's nothing you can run into?" "Like where?" she asked. He considered the options. "Down at Main Beach, there's a big parking lot." She just looked at him. "You hit something there?" he asked. Buffy nodded. "Parking meter." "Scratch the beach, then," he said. "What about at the mall? No cars there at THIS time of night." "Streetlight," she mumbled. "All right..the mall's out as well." He paused to think. "Your school, maybe? There must be.." "Math building...twice." He looked perplexed. "Who on earth was teaching you?" "A friend of mine, Xander. But, he had to stop be- cause he was developing an ulcer." "Xander?" He felt a flash of jealousy. "Your little boyfriend from the other night?" "No," She nudged him with her elbow. "I told you..I don't have a boyfriend." "You've got one now," he pointed out. "Come on, angelface...let's take our chances at the mall." ~~~~~ Like a fool that walked through fire Just to reach my heart's desire Baby , would you be waiting there... ~~~~~ After adjusting the seat as far forward as it would go, he scooted her behind the wheel. She placed both hands on the wheel, holding it in a death grip. "Baby..relax," he said, rubbing her back. "This isn't rocket science. You just need a little practice." "That's what I thought," she said. "But no will let me use their car." "Well, I'M here now." His hand slid around to the nape of her neck. "Just turn the key." The engine fired up with a roar. "Put your foot on the brake..good..now pull that lever down into 'Drive'...foot off the brake and step down on the accelerator..." Buffy turned to look at him like a scared bunny rabbit. "You...you have insurance don't you?" He didn't...but he wasn't about to tell her that. "Heavily insured, baby. You'll do fine." ~~~~~ Could we afford to wonder If this could be the one? Looking for a love that's everlasting Wonder if the feeling's strong enough Tell me, are we merely lovers passing Or an everlasting love..... ~~~~~ "Buffy...honey, please stop crying." She shook her head, sobbing into a handker- chief he had given her. "I...I can't...I ruined your car. I'm sorry...I'm so sorry." "Baby...it's just a little dent. It can be fixed. " He sighed deeply. "Now stop crying...you're getting your pretty dress all wet." He pulled the car into the driveway and cut the engine, then came around and opened her door. Without a word, he picked her up in his arms and kicked the car door shut with his foot. Carrying her to the front porch, he set her down and opened her handbag to find her keys, then unlocked the door and ushered her inside. He relocked the door, and turned to see her staring at herself in the wall mirror at the foot of the stair- case. Her face was streaked with tears, and her eye make-up had become a melting mess, giving her the appearance of someone who'd come out on the wrong end of a fistfight. She was a sad little sight to be sure, and his heart turned over inside of him. He felt an odd amalgama- tion of guilt for pushing her into trying to drive the car, pity for the obvious misery written all over her face, and the protectiveness she'd brought out in him from the moment he'd seen her for the first time. He would have cheerfully killed anyone else who made her cry, without even stopping to find out why. Knowing that this was his fault, he was deter- mined to find a way to dry her tears. "So," he said, watching her dab at her watery eyes. "Was that REALLY the same streetlight you hit the first time?" She blew her nose and nodded. "Yes." "Hmm...what do you suppose the odds are of that?" Buffy turned around, biting her lower lip, and shrugged. "Gotta be pretty high, don't you think?" He stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall. "I guess we'd have to go back and count how many are there, then we could average it out," he mused, then winked at her. "Want to drive?" It was working. That abused lower lip of hers was beginning to curve in the smile he loved. "That's better," he said. Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed both her cheeks and then her lips, tasting her tears. She burrowed closer to him for a moment, then looked up as he smoothed her hair. "Shouldn't you call your insurance company?" she asked, sniffling. "My...oh, yeah..." he nodded, pressing her cheek against his chest. "I'll take care of that tomorrow." There was a brief pause. "You don't have insurance, do you?" she asked. "No," he confessed. "But don't worry. I can afford it." She stirred fretfully in his arms. "No, I should pay for it. I'm the one who made the dent." "Buffy..." "I...can't pay you for all of it at once...but I get an allowance from my mom every Saturday...and my dad sends me..." "Buffy, hush!" he said firmly. "I'm not taking your money, angelface. I have plenty, and I don't need yours." She settled down a little. "...and I was thinking about getting a job this summer." "You have a job. Concentrate on that." Pulling back from him, she lifted her tear stained face to look in his eyes. "Are you sure you don't want to pay for..." "I'm sure," he cut her off. "Listen...I had a sizeable inheritance from both my mother and my grandfather. And you'd be surprised how interest can accumulate over a hundred and twenty five years." Her eyes grew round. "A hundred and twenty five years?" she squeaked. "That's how old you are?" He laughed. "That's when I became a vampire. I was twenty-eight when it happened, so I suppose, tech- nically I'm one hundred and fifty three." "Wow," she murmured. "My mom just about had a fit when I went out with a senior last year. What's she gonna say about this?" "Where is she?" "She's in New York, visiting some friends. She owns an art gallery in the Plaza, and she's looking for some new pieces while she's there." "And she left you here all by yourself?" Buffy shrugged. "Believe me, she didn't want to. But my dad is...well, he's ...not around much. I was gonna stay with some friends, but someone in their family died and..it just wouldn't work out." She stepped back out of his arms. "I need to use the bathroom," she said, as quietly as though there was someone else that might overhear. While he waited for her to return, he shed his jacket and dropped it over the back of a chair, then removed his tie. He moved around the living room, looking at the vast collection of photographs. Mostly of Buffy, they ranged from what looked like a newborn photo taken in the hospital, to what had to be a school picture taken recently. He smiled as he examined the visual display of her infancy and childhood. "God, she's always been adorable." She seemed to have gone through no awkward phases whatsoever. Even the pictures where she was clearly missing her front teeth showed clear promise of the beauty she'd grown up to be. There was one picture that caught his attention in- stantly. It looked as though it had been taken when she wasn't aware of it, for she wasn't looking into the camera, but off to one side of it. In the photograph, she was wearing a white sun- dress, with matching white sandals. She had a light golden tan and her hair was sun streaked, held back from her face with a gold clip. There was a faint smile on her face, as if she was seeing something amusing out of view of the camera. He had picked the framed photo up and was still examining it when she came back into the room. "Whatcha doing?" she asked. "Looking at you," he replied. "How old were you when this was taken?" She looked over his shoulder. "That was last summer, so I was almost sixteen." She watched him stare down at the picture and she smiled. "Would you..like to keep that picture?" "Yes," he said immediately, with no "Oh, I couldn't" or "Are you sure your mother won't mind?" type of re- sponses. He slipped it out of the frame, and placed it on the table. "Thank you," he said, putting the frame down and turning to face her. Buffy stared at him with wide eyes. "Take your shirt off!" she said loudly. "Take it off!" He blinked, a little surprised at her boldness, but did as she asked, and unbuttoned his shirt. After dropping his cuff links into the front pocket of his trousers, he felt her hands yanking the shirt down his arms and off. When he turned to face her, he was even more surprised to see her nearly running from the room. "Buffy?" He followed her into the kitchen. "Oh god, oh god, oh god." She was saying it over and over again as she flung open a door and ran down the stairs that, he assumed, led to a basement of some kind. By the time he caught up with her, she was standing in front of a washing machine, spraying something onto the front of his shirt. "Honey, what's wrong?" he asked. Looking over her shoul- der, he saw the black mascara staining the garment. "Look what I've done to your shirt," she moaned. "First your car...now your shirt," she added, opening the lid of the washing machine. "Um...sweetheart..." he began. "You must think I'm a total jinx," she ranted, dropping a capful of liquid detergent onto the shirt. "No, honey, but you can't..." Wrenching up the lid of the washer, she threw his shirt in and closed it, then began spinning a dial on the instrument panel. "I'm so sorry," she kept repeating. The machine began to fill, then to agitate. "I can fix this one, though," she said. "I can even iron it for you when it comes out of the dryer." "The..the dryer? Well...all right, but I...." She flung herself into his arms. "You don't hate me for being such a klutz, do you?" Sighing, he wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly. "No, angelface," he assured her. "I could never hate you..no matter what." "Good," she murmured happily. "That makes me feel so much better." He pressed a kiss against the crown of her hair. No way was he going to tell her that she'd thrown a silk shirt made for him in France..a shirt that was supposed to be laundered by hand in cold water and never see the inside of a dryer..into a machine filled with hot water that was agitating with a violence reserved for soiled corduroy. Nope. He wasn't gonna say a damn word about it. ~~~~~ On this first night, we are one Kindred spirits on the run Taking hold of our destiny In this world of chances missed Does forever still exist This side of the fantasy... ~~~~~ "Um..do you want some coffee, or some- thing? While we're waiting for your shirt?" He closed the basement door, and followed her into the kitchen. "I don't think I should," he said, "Coffee keeps me awake at night." "Well, we've got decaffi....very funny," she smiled, her eyes sparkling. He sat down at the kitchen table and waited till she walked close by, then reached out and grabbed her, pulling her down onto his lap. "I'd rather have you while I'm waiting for my shirt," he said, nuzzling the back of her neck. She tilted her head to one side, totally exposing the soft flesh of her throat. "Kiss me there," she asked sweetly. When she felt the gentle press of his lips on her pulse, she turned in his lap. "Let me see you...you know..." He looked at her, eyes narrowed slightly. "Are you sure?" "Yeah," she nodded. "I want to know all of you." "You won't stake me, will you?" "Silly," she tsked. "Come on...show me." When he'd changed, he sat quietly as she examined his face with her fingertips, feeling the ridges and looking into his golden eyes. Then, placing her hands on either side of his face, she lifted the sides of his upper lip, exposing his fangs. She sat back, her arms loosely draped around his neck. "Hmm." He shook his head and changed back. "Well?" "It's funny," she said, tilting her head to one side. "The others all look so ugly. But you don't." She stroked his cheek with the tip of her finger. "You look wild and otherworldly...is that a word?" "I think so," He squeezed her around her waist. "You're not afraid of me, are you?" She looked at him and smiled. "Should I be?" "No. I promise..you'll never have a reason to be afraid of me." "Same here," she said, quite matter-of-factly. ~~~~~ Can we afford to wonder If this could be the one I'm looking for a love that's everlasting Wonder if the feeling's strong enough Tell me, are we merely lovers passing Or an everlasting love.... ~~~~~ The zipper of her dress slid down easily, and he traced the line of her vertebrae with his lips, lingering in the small of her back, gently touching his tongue to her skin. He was still sitting, she was standing in front of him, facing away. "Can I take your dress off?" he asked. She smiled and turned around. "Yes," she said softly, reaching for his hand and tugging him to his feet. When she began to pull him across the room, he stopped her. "Where are we going?" She looked at him, surprised. "Um..upstairs. To my room." He shook his head. "Let's stay here." Right on cue, her eyes widened and her cheeks turned pink. "In the kitchen?" He had to laugh. He just couldn't help it. "In the kitchen," he confirmed. Placing his hands under her arms, he lifted her onto the counter, and stepped between her legs. "There's no law that says you have to make love in a bed every time." Slipping her dress down, he helped pull her arms out of it, then let it gather around her waist. She sat there, wearing a black strapless bra, that made her skin look like cream. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against the hollow between her breasts. "That's very pretty," he said, "What have you got on down below?" "Stockings and a garter belt, and my underpants, which you already knew about," she reported seriously. "What's so funny?" He was sincerely trying not to laugh, but her humor was so unintentional that it caught him off guard every time. "Nothing, angel. It's just the way you talk some- times. So serious and innocent." "Innocent?" She actually looked disappointed. "Still?" "A little," he nodded. "And there's nothing wrong with it, baby. I think it's cute." "But I'm not supposed to be innocent anymore," she said. "I have experience now." "Oh, baby," he said tenderly. "You're just getting started with your experience. And your innocence is one of the things I love most about you. I don't want you to lose it, no matter how much experience you get under your belt." She framed his face in her hands and kissed him, then pulled back and said, "Teach me how to talk..sexy. I want to learn." "Later" he promised. "Right now...we're gonna have some kitchen fun." Buffy sat and watched him pull open the refrigerator door and hunt around inside. "Ah-ha!" he announced, pulling a bowl of fruit out. He placed the bowl on the counter and peeled off the plactic wrap. There were strawberries and raspberries, apple slices and orange wedges in the bowl. Buffy looked at it and shrugged. "You know, I'm really still full from dinner." With his face buried in the curve of her neck, he laughed and kissed her and told her how much he loved her. Then, he helped her slip her dress all the way off and unfastened her bra. She lifted her hips and wriggled out of her underwear, but he instructed her to leave her stockings and heels on. He pulled the curtains securely closed, then dimmed the lights. When he had the room the way he wanted it, he reached into the bowl and took out an wedge of orange. "What are you...oh!" She gasped when he squeezed the juice from the orange, letting it trickle over her breasts. Tossing the peel away, he leaned over and began licking the juice off her skin. Buffy leaned back on her hands, thrusting her breasts forward, allowing him to clean her thoroughly with his tongue. When he was finished, she picked up another orange slice and squeezed it on herself, wanting more of his meticulous clean up. As his tongue slid wetly over her breasts and circled her hard nipples, Buffy's head dropped back and she began to breathe a little faster. He licked her roughly, then took a fat red strawberry from the bowl. Holding it by the husk, he rubbed the other end against each of her nipples, then slid it up to her lips, inviting her to bite into it. She did, and the berry exploded between her teeth, releasing it's sticky juice to stain her lips, a stain he promptly licked away also. He kissed her, plunging his tongue into her mouth and finding hers. To his absolute delight, Buffy's little fingers began working at the button of his trousers. When she had it undone, she carefully lowered his zipper, then lost her nerve and placed her hands back by her sides. He took one of her hands and guided it back to the opening of his pants. Tearing his mouth away from hers, he rasped out two words, "Touch me." Tentatively, she reached in and curved her hand around his erection. "Yes, baby," he whispered, sucking on her ear lobe, "Touch me like that...rub up and down...that's it...harder...yeah." He pulled her forward on the counter, then let his pants drop down around his ankles. "Wrap your legs around my waist," he said, "I want to feel your stockings against my bare skin." He paused to admire the sight of her in her garter belt and nylons. "I'm going to buy you one of those in every color," he promised. He slipped one hand between her thighs and stroked her with his fingers. "So wet," he murmured, kissing her throat. "I want to be inside you, angel. Buried inside you where you're all warm and soft." Buffy whimpered when she felt his mouth on her breast, sucking at her nipple. He reached into the bowl with his free hand, and extracted a raspberry. Squeezing the berry between his thumb and forefinger, he popped it open and spread juice around the light pink tip of her right breast, then repeated the process for the left. When he had her the way he wanted her, he cupped his hands beneath her breasts and lifted them slightly, pushing them together. He applied his tongue to her sugary tasting curves, suckling hard on the very tips until he had them nearly the same color as the raspberry he'd painted her with. "William," she moaned hoarsely. "Please...I..." She honestly didn't know how to articulate her desire. "S'all right, baby," he whispered. "I know what my girl needs. What she wants." He urged her to lay down on the counter, then ducked between her legs and began to lick her there. He had to keep a firm grip on her hips to keep her still, since she was doing everything she could to get closer to his teasing tongue. Pausing to adjust her a little, his eye fell on something he hadn't noticed before. Buffy was laying on her back and staring at the ceiling when she felt his mouth leave her, and she whined in protest. Before she could say anything though, she felt a thick substance being applied to her labia. When she raised her head, she saw William squeezing the honey bottle her mother kept by the toaster, letting the honey drip down and coat her sex. Looking up, he caught her watching him. "Not that you aren't already adorably sweet," he grinned like a naughty child with a serious sweet tooth, "But I just love honey." Pushing the bottle away,. he ducked back down between her legs and began to meticulously clean up every sticky drop. When neither of them could wait another second, he straight- ened up and aligned her opening with the head of his erect shaft. As she felt him began to enter her, she dug her nails into his arms. It hurt, but not nearly the way it had the first time, so she assumed it would get a little better each time they did it. But when he started to thrust, she noticed that the pain ebbed a lot more quickly than it had last night. When it was completely gone, she began to return his thrusts as best she could from the position she was in. Turning her head, she saw the honey bottle. William's eyes were closed, so she reached for it and coated her finger with the golden syrup, then touched his lips with it. His eyes flew open, and when he saw what she was doing, he smiled and opened his mouth, allowing her to slide her finger in so he could suck the honey off of it. She imitated the motion he was performing for her, using her finger. He sucked it, and licked it, and bit down gently on it, continuing to thrust harder and harder in and out of her tight passsage. Buffy was close to orgasm, and she tightened her legs around him, using the strong muscles to hold him firmly inside of her, then grinding herself against him until she came. He let her gyrate against him, giving her the pressure she needed, and when she was finished and looking up at him with sleepy, satisfied eyes, he pumped into her hard and fast, grunting with his efforts, exploding inside of her with a shout of pure carnal pleasure. He fell forward, covering her mouth with his and kissing her deeply, then buried his face between her breasts and closed his eyes. Buffy stroked his shoulders and back, caressing and petting him until he raised up off of her. He saw her looking at the fruit bowl, and asked her what she was thinking about. "I was just wondering...what were you gonna do with the apples, and....why are you laughing? What did I say?" ~~~~~ This could be an everlasting love.... ~~~~~ End of part 9 (Is anybody else suddenly hungry?)