Sanctuary

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Pairings: Buffy/Spike

Warnings: Sexual Situations

Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy or Spike or any of the other characters from BtVS. I just like to get them naked and roll them around in a bed ... or on a tomb ... under the table ... in the shower ... Um, you get the idea.

Feedback? Please, please, with chocolate and Spike on top!

Chapter 1

Buffy tossed and turned restlessly, sighing as she thought of the disaster that was her holidays and birthdays. If it was a Buffy day—it was a sucky day and today had proved to be no different. She flopped onto her back again to stare at the intricate design swirled onto the ceiling of what was once Angel’s apartment. He had given it, as well as a load of cash to her before he left. He wanted to take care of her he said. Guilt money was what she called it.

She didn’t think she would have ever touched any of it, but dorm living was so not for her. First she had had the roommate from hell—literally. Things were better once she had moved in with Willow, but she had all ready walked in on Willow and Oz twice and considering her recent love life lately, namely Angel, then Parker, she just didn’t have it in her to witness the bloom of love on the flushed, sweaty faces of her best friend and boyfriend.

So, she had taken some of the very generous amount Angel had given her, and had the apartment totally re-done. Gone were the dark colors and cement floors. Instead there was antique ivory paint and golden wood flooring. The dark, heavy furniture had been replaced with soft overstuffed sofas in the palest of gold with cream and cranberry throw pillows and a cozy chenille blanket for after patrol television watching. The small bathroom had been enlarged by knocking out the spare bedroom’s walls and she had had a multi-head shower and whirlpool bath installed as well as a fireplace that shared space with the master bedroom, her sanctuary.

This room too in no way resembled the spartan monk cell in which Angel punished himself. In place of the small twin bed of her downfall, she had put a queen-sized confection of brass and silk. Sensual curves of solid brass curled behind her head, smooth in texture and cool to the touch. Her sheets and comforter were pure silk and in the palest of creams and rich golds and reds. It was a haven, her small space to hide from the world.

She could only thank Angel for it now, in the aftermath that was her Thanksgiving. Vengeful ‘indigenous’ spirits, dry turkey, syphilis (thankfully not hers) and to cap it all off, the bleach-blond pain in her ass, the reason she was tossing and turning in her sanctuary instead of resting peacefully, Spike.

When he had burst into Giles’ small apartment she had been devastated by his poor condition, but had covered her softer feelings with bitchiness and sharp words. As she tied him to the dining room chair, she found herself hard pressed not to coddle and pet his dirty hair wanting to sooth him in some small way. She had covertly watched him through out dinner, watching as in between Big Bag snarking he had unknowingly shown her that he was, in reality, sick and barely hanging on to consciousness. She swore that at one point she had seen tears prick his eyes, whether in pain or despair or relief of being free she didn’t know.

The tale, yet incomplete due to bear attack, of his capture and incarceration at the hands of these mysterious ‘soldier boys’ had her worried. He had her worried; before she had left, he had once again lost consciousness tied to his chair. She had never seen him so weak, not even when she had put him in a wheel chair for months. That at least was right. Mortal enemies fighting with fists and words—vampire and Slayer; an age-old ritual, their dance. He was hers. To kill or not to kill. Just like she had known since she had first saw him clapping at her behind the Bronze that she was his, she just never told him she knew. It was time. Time to take what was hers and give him what was his. And when he was healed, whole once more, they’d make those commandos pay for messing with what was theirs.

Decided on a plan of actions, she slipped from her bed and pulled on jeans, leaving the tank top she had worn to bed hours ago on. She grabbed her keys and the cash she had thrown on the small table by the door and stalked into the night, going to claim what was hers.

~

After she stopped by the hospital and bribed the staff into delivering the nearly outdated blood to her apartment and taking several bags to give him tonight, she silently entered Giles’. She gasped at the sight of her vampire. Shocked at his deteriorating condition. He had been pale before, starving and shaking, but now he appeared truly corpse-like. He appeared smaller somehow, his black leather duster wrapped around him as if he tried to get warm, his cheekbones stark and prominent in his too thin face. Dark circles outlined eyes that were closed, the eyelids bruised and swollen.

She let her feet take her the rest of the way to him, allowing her face to show the grief she felt at his condition, allowing her silent tears to fall. He deserved her tears. Her once strong foe, reduced to this—ill and coming to his enemy for help, for sanctuary. That’s what she planned on offering him—sanctuary. She quickly untied him, careful to let him lean against her body, his dirty head against her soft breasts. She froze when he moaned, in pain or relief she didn’t know and petted his head reassuringly while listening to make sure that the small sound hadn’t awakened Giles.

When nothing stirred she carefully picked him up in her arms, glad for Slayer strength, cradling her in his arms like a baby. He groaned again and she shushed him gently, cooing softly until he rested his head against her shoulder. Using her hip and the wall for the support she got them out the door, trying to shut it quietly and freezing when she heard Giles’ voice calling her name.

~

Giles had heard rustling downstairs and the squeak of the door he’d been meaning to oil for quite some time and he was suddenly wide awake and wondering what his unwanted house guest was doing. Reluctantly, he got out of the bed and went to see.

To say he was shocked that Buffy was in his house at four in the morning would be a stretch—she often prowled the hours before dawn and would often wind up here, to sleep or, he suspected, to get away from Willow and Oz. What was shocking however, was that this morning she was sneaking out of his house with vampire shaped contraband.

He stumbled down the remaining stairs and approached the struggling girl, calling her name softly.

“Buffy, whatever are you doing?” He removed his glasses and polished them on the tails of his pajamas watching as small, strong shoulders tensed and she froze at being caught.

He thought for a moment she wasn’t going to reply, just simply carrying her burden on out the door. But when she finally turned around, spinning quickly he gasped and dropped his glasses, not so much at what she said as the way in which her eyes flashed at him when she said it.

“Mine.” She growled. She. Had. Growled. And her eyes, he could have sworn, flashed amber. But what was even more shocking than that was the vampire’s unconscious response to the Slayer’s possessive word. Spike’s, William the Bloody’s human features formed into that of his demon and growled back, speaking only one word.

“Yours.”

Then they were gone out the door and into the rapidly disappearing night before he could overcome his shock at what he had just witnessed. Snapping out of his stupor he rushed to the open doorway, but could see no sign of them.

“Oh, dear Lord.” He muttered, turning to go back upstairs and get dressed. He’d call the others and go search for his Slayer and apparently her vampire.

Chapter 2

Buffy, was out of breath and not a little scared by the time they had reached the sanctuary of her home. She felt out of control and her only concern was for Spike—a vampire that she was supposed to hate, but for whom she only felt love. Forgoing the stairs considering her deadweight burden, she entered the little service elevator and clanked the gate closed before pressing the switch that would close the gaping doors and start the machine rumbling, taking them to upper level where she resided. The doors opened and she exited, still carefully tending to her vampire, watching to make sure she didn’t hit his all ready injured head against anything.

Once she had depressed the switch to close the doors again, she pressed another switch that locked the elevator in place so that no else could use it and find them; anyone searching for them, for entrance, would have to use the little call box and wait for her to let them in. She wasn’t worried about the stairwell, as it required a key to unlock it on her floor.

She sighed with relief as they entered her apartment and she engaged the dead bolts. She dropped the brown bag with the hospital blood on the bar separating her living room and small kitchen, leaving it for now. They wouldn’t start with that blood anyway. She carried him on into her bathroom and set him down on the soft, fuzzy rug, gently propping him against the side of the huge tub. She turned on the taps, making the water overly warm to comfort him and herself and letting it fill. She added sweet vanilla bath oil, sending the sweet fragrant scent throughout the bath, before turning to the small gas-powered fireplace and lighting it to provide extra warmth both in the bathroom and bedroom.

Going back to the still unconscious vampire she stripped off her clothes, concerned that he was still out of it. She eased him down on the rug and beginning to take his clothes off, once more crying silently at the evidence of his abuse.

Each piece of clothing removed revealed some of the horror he had endured. The duster revealed that he had been nearly starved. His usually tight t-shirt and jeans hung loose on his narrow frame. She ripped the ragged shirt from him to reveal a chest covered in bruises and what appeared to be incisions. One raw incision site ran from sternum to navel—proof that they had opened him up. His jeans, equally torn from him, revealed more of the same. She ran her hands over his chest and legs feeling for any broken bones, sighing in relief when she didn’t find any.

She turned him on his side and examined his back and buttocks, gasping at what could only be whip marks marring his pale skin. She eased him to his back again trembling fingers reaching for his bruised and bloodied penis. She had never really seen one up close, it had been dark when she and Angel had made love, but she was pretty sure that his balls weren’t supposed to be swollen like that. She gently lifted his soft penis and examined the incision at the base of it. It was closed and she sighed in relief. It would heal. There was another small incision on his ball sac, but it too appeared closed. She had to choke back her rage at the bruises there—obviously finger shaped as if someone had squeezed them tightly.

How dare they take him! Touch him! He was hers. The growl that rumbled from her throat startled her, but in her ire she didn’t much care to examine too closely what was happening to the Slayer inside.

Satisfied that she had seen every mark on him, that they had been counted and added to the mental tally sheet she was keeping against those that took him, she lifted him again and stepped into the steaming bath. She turned off the taps and turned the knob that allowed the jets to come on.

He moaned and hissed at the contact against his many injuries as she settled them into the swirling water until it covered her shoulders.

“Shhh, Baby, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” She whispered, petting his filthy hair, his shoulders and rubbing his arms and chest until he relaxed against her. For the first time since she had picked him up at Giles’ she began to try and awaken him, she needed to get some blood in him so that he would heal.

She kept up her gentle massage so as not to hurt him cooing nonsense words in his ears. She roused him slowly aware that when he awakened and sensed her that his demon would probably take instinctively.

His eyes flickered open, showing pale blue irises before closing again. “C’mon, Spike, wakey, wakey.” She gently tapped his cheeks. “Yummy, Slayer here for you.”

He groaned at her persistence, eyes opening once more and blearily locking on her too close face. His nostrils flared as his eyes really saw her and he growled, demon sliding to the fore as his senses said, “Slayer”. He hissed the word.

She tightened her arms around him afraid that he would hurt himself. “Hush, now. You’re safe.” She cooed, rubbing her face over his brow ridges. She didn’t understand how she knew to do this, but was pleased when he stopped growling and relaxed, rubbing back and purring.

She raised one arm in front of his face and rubbed her wrist against his mouth, “C’mon, Baby, you know you want to.”

He whimpered, amber eyes searching hers, before he sucked on the offered flesh and bit down hard.

It was her turn to whimper as his fangs sliced into her skin. She held him tighter with her free arm, moaning a little at the pain of it as he growled and swallowed her healing blood greedily.

She let him drink for a long time, until she felt dizzy. “Okay, Baby, that’s...” She didn’t even have to finish her sentence. He immediately pulled away, licking at the wounds and purring in satiation and pleasure. She leaned against his back warily as he continued to worry his bite, smiling a little at the purr she could feel where her cheek rested against him.

She froze, startled when, fully awakened and conscious he turned hard sapphire eyes on her, “Wha’ the hell is going on here, Slayer?” He asked, strong hands capturing both of her wrists. Chapter 3

“Shhhh, Spike, just trust me, all right?” She looked him, wide hazel eyes imploring him to trust her. She didn’t know what was going on. It was primal. She knew they belonged to one another. Now she just had to get him to feel it too.

Spike was confused. He remembered nothing since escaping that hell hole and going to the Watcher’s house for help. He vaguely had some recollection of the Thanksgiving from hell and something about a bear. His eyes widened briefly at that thought. Then nothing until he had come to with sweet, glorious Slayer blood pouring down his throat. Now she was looking at him like...what? He didn’t think he’d ever seen that look in a woman’s eyes, at least not for him. And now he was noticing other things about the situation. Like the fact that he was naked. Even more, that she was too. That they were naked together in a bath.

He glanced around the room in shock at his opulent surroundings, and then turned back to her, questions in his azure eyes. He released her wrists and her gentle tug let her hold him again.

“Trust me?” She questioned softly, pressing kisses to his face and shoulders, anywhere she could reach.

He slowly nodded his head, not sure that he did trust her, but his demon was strangely at peace. Weird that, demon hadn’t been satisfied since Dru had left him, since before they had come back to Sunnyhell. Then he had gotten captured by those...No. Best cut that thought off right now. He shuddered and thinking he was getting cold Buffy began speaking to him again.

“C’mon, Baby. Let’s get you clean and out of here. The fire’s probably got the bed warm and cozy by now and I’ve got more blood for you in the kitchen.” He opened his mouth to protest that last bit, but stopped when she placed her finger over his mouth. “It’s human, Baby. I know what my vampire likes.”

That shocked him. Hers? Since when was he hers? But she was tugging on him now, turning him and he let it go.

She loosened her hold and gently pushed down on his shoulders, “Trust me,” She whispered again, and he could do nothing else, letting her push him under the water until he was submerged, lying stretched out with his head on her lap.

She didn’t keep under there long, only long enough to run her fingers through the tangles of blood and hair gel. Until her fingers sifted through freely and then she eased him back up. She took her favorite shampoo and put a capful in her hand before setting the bottle back in place and rubbed her hands together. She gently washed his hair, feeling for his injury with strong, but gentle, little fingers, frowning at the little incision that she found there.

He moaned at the exquisite feel of having someone tend to him and leaned his head back against her breasts. He had always cared for Dru, bathing her, washing or combing her hair; or even for Angelus, but no one had ever done this for him. His heart felt full, almost too full and he felt her blood, given freely, rushing through his long dead veins, filling him with life or something like it, healing his wounds from the inside out. His cock engorged with arousal and the feel of the warm jets of water washing over it, her hands in his hair, her warm breath on the nape of his neck were all helping feed his desire for his mortal enemy.

She turned the jets off and pulled the tub stopper allowing the water to begin to drain away. She took the hand held showerhead and rinsed his soapy locks with warm clear water, rinsing away soap and blood and the filth of that placed from him. He watched as she stepped from the bath first and gave herself a quick toweling before turning back to him.

“Can you stand, Baby?” She asked. Still using that soft and gentle voice so at odds with the way they usually spoke to each other, at odds with the way she had spoken to him earlier in the day. He tried, climbed shakily to limbs that had been broken and beaten and stood as uncertainly as a toddler taking his first steps. She extended her hands, so small and yet so strong and he grabbed a hold and let her help him from the bath. Let her, his mortal enemy, help him. That idea, the very act of it, should have surprised him, but it didn’t. It was the reason he had sought her out in the first place. He knew she would help him. It was more than just her being a white hat. He had known that she would help him, Spike.

There had always been something there from the moment he first saw her dance, something between them, something more than enemies, something hot and writhing and real—primal. And as she knelt at his feet, his now healed and erect cock brushing against her face and hair, as she began to tenderly dry him with a towel softer than any other that had ever touched him, he realized what that something was; it was that he was hers.

That was what the demon was telling him, why it was so satisfied, why it so easily let this warrior of the light tend to it. He was hers and if the look she turned on him said anything at all, it said that she was his too. His, the thought stunned him. Here was something then that he had been searching for all of his life—something effulgent, something his. Love. He stood stunned, letting her dry him until she turned glittering hazel eyes towards his as her lush mouth curved into a small smile and just before she slowly, almost hesitantly brushed them over his erection.

He gasped at the contact, blue eyes darkening with pleasure and lust as they bore into hers. One of her eyebrows arched in silent question and his hips responded by giving a little thrust towards her. She frowned and he tried to step back, afraid that he had misread her, but she quickly stopped him with a hand on his hip.

She moved forward on her knees, urging him to step back and sit on the wide ledge of the bath. She continued forward, spreading his thighs and settling herself between them before giving him an impish grin. She didn’t want him to try to stay upright on shaking slowly healing legs as she did this for him.

She grabbed his hands and encouraged him to tangle them in her honey blond hair as she slowly engulfed his erection in her mouth. She was nervous about this, as she had never done it before, but she wanted so much to bring him pleasure, to help him forget whatever they had done to him to leave such marks on his beautiful body.

She let him guide her movements; licking and sucking him like her favorite candy and then nibbling on the exposed tip of him. She encircled the wide base with one hand and cupped his balls, rolling them gently with the other. He moaned and she took him further in until he nudged the back of her throat and then, instinctively swallowed.

“Fuck, Buffy, love!” He cried out and bucked up, shoving more of himself in and almost choking her. It would be over soon, he was too hurt, too raw.

She pressed her hands against his hips and hummed glad that he liked what she was doing and inadvertently setting him off.

He growled as her throat closed around him and he helplessly thrust against her mouth again. His balls clenched and he came, spending himself deep in her throat, praising her with curses until at last he was quiet and slumped against wall.

She pulled her mouth off of him and chuckled taking in his relaxed form, his blue eyes all ready closing from exhaustion, the orgasm doing him completely in.

“C’mon, Sleeping Beauty,” She prodded, helping him stumble to his feet, giggling when he growled at her words. “Let’s get you tucked into bed, you’re asleep on your feet.”

She guided him out of the bathroom and into her sanctuary, easing him into the soft silk sheets and comforter. She climbed in behind him and pulled the covers up around them, letting him rest his head on her breasts. She petted his platinum hair, running her fingers through it, lightly scratching his scalp.

“Slayer, Buffy,” He slurred, wanting to question her.

He smiled when he felt her kiss his forehead like she would a sleepy child shushing him.

“Rest, Baby, we’ll talk tomorrow.” And he did, buried in vanilla scented sheets and cuddled in the sanctuary of his Slayers arms.

Chapter 4

A/N: Okay guys, this is then end. Thanks to everyone who reviewed my little pwp, I'm glad you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Buffy sighed and stretched as she awakened, causing the blond vampire sleeping on her chest to hiss in displeasure and turn over, burying his face in his pillow. She giggled softly and slipped from the bed, slipping into her gold silk robe and tying the belt tightly around her small waist. She used the bathroom and went into the kitchen. She grimaced when she saw that she had left Spike’s blood out on the counter glad that she had had Willie pack it in an insulated bag with those gel ice pack thingys. While she brewed herself a cup of tea, she put the blood away properly and had a glass of orange juice and a piece of toast. She wanted Spike to feed from her again this morning. She knew that her blood was the best for the all ready rapidly healing vampire. She had no idea what she was doing, relying on instinct. Something had awakened in her at seeing the blond vampire again—seeing him hurt had nearly brought her to her knees. She had just known then, there in that moment in Giles’ living room, that he was hers. Her vampire. Hers to fight. Hers to dust. Hers to claim and if what her heart was telling her was true, hers to love.

She laced her tea liberally with sugar making the heady brew dark and sweet and carried it with her back to the bedroom. She stood in the doorway with a small smile as she looked at him. He had turned onto his back, arms and legs sprawled across her bed, and entangled in the creamy silk of her sheets. He looked like he belonged there in the brass and satin of her bed, his alabaster skin and platinum hair blending in with the bedding. Although his torso and face were still molted with bruises from the abuse of his captors, he had never looked more beautiful to her.

She set her mug on the mantel above the fireplace, the small noise alerting him in some way of her presence, and watched as he slowly opened eyes the color of the ocean. Like the predator he was, he zeroed in on her form at the foot of the bed. His nostrils flared as he scented her, eyes wild for a moment, just until he recognized it was she. Then he did something that surprised her.

Sitting up and throwing off the sheet, he vamped and growled. “Mine.” His feral eyes glowed amber in the fire lit room. His body, as beaten as it was, was hard and ready for her.

That was all. One word. One word so filled with such possession and longing that her knees became weak and moisture flooded between her thighs so that she was suddenly ready for him too. She pulled the tie to her robe and let the fabric slide from her golden, nude form to settle at her feet. Her eyes flashed green-gold and she crawled upon the foot of the bed, her movements lithe and sure.

“Yours.” Her voice was an echo of his, growling and possessive. He reached for her and she crawled right into his lap, straddling his narrow hips, her body slipping easily into the cradle of his.

There were no more words as she impaled herself on his erection and bared her throat for him—the ultimate surrendering of female to male. He growled again, holding her in place with claw-tipped hands curved over silken shoulders and thrust his hips up hard, imbedding him self as deep as possible in her tight, wet heat before taking her fully by plunging his fangs in the scented chalice of her neck.

The magic of words and deeds surrounded them, embedded in them ... heart, body and soul and the power of it snapped in place between them. The claiming that the Slayer began was completed by the vampire, neither to be alone from that moment onward.

Spike drank her down in greedy gulps, guzzled the sweet wine that was his mate’s blood, feral eyes rolling as the tight heat of her clenched around his cock. When he had drank his fill of her, could literally feel the last of his flesh healing with the power of her, he stopped and lovingly licked his marks before lifting her off of him.

He stalled her whimpered protest with a kiss, careful not to knick her with his fangs before turning and placing her hands around the looping swirls of the headboard.

He slipped in place behind her gentling her as he ran his palms down her sides to firmly grasp her hips. “Like this, Love.” He breathed the words against her ear, chuckling when his cool breath made her shudder in his arms.

He used his knees to spread her legs wider and dipped his hips to slip his erection between her silky thighs. His hands slid back up her body and cupped full, soft breasts, rolling and tugging her nipples as his hips moved against hers drenching his cock as it rubbed against her outer folds.

She moaned in response, fingers tightening on the rails of the bed, her head thrown back against his shoulder. “Please, Baby,” She gasped, begging.

Licking and biting his mark on her throat he brought his hands back down, grasped her hips again and pulling back, thrust into her slick folds, “This what you wanted, love?” Chuckling as she mewled in response. He pressed his lips to her skin as their hips began the dance. Time ceased to exist as the heat from her body covered him as well causing their bodies to glisten as they writhed together. His hands were almost bruising in their grip on her hips, his chest brushing against her back with every long, slow thrust of his body into hers.

She moaned and jerked her hips trying to get him to speed up, her body needing release. He growled in displeasure, hands clamping on down harder on her hips, holding her still for his driving cock. She growled back at him and clenched her pussy around him making him lose control and slam himself into her wet heat. Suddenly, his need was as urgent as hers, his hips taking on a desperate rhythm. He feet his balls clench and his lips latched once more onto his marks, sucking hard. He sent one hand down between her thighs, raking through damp curls, to roughly flick against her swollen clit. She screamed as her orgasm rushed through her, tightening her pussy around his cock.

He hissed in pleasure and fangs easily penetrating his marks as he came, spending deep inside her clenching body, he finally released his fierce hold on her hips and she moved with him, their bodies wringing that last bit of pleasure from each other, before Buffy’s arms gave out from the strain of holding them both up and they collapsed together onto the bed both panting for breath that one of them didn’t even need.

Not wanting to leave her tight heat, but also not wanting to crush her into the bedding, Spike groaned and wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her to him as he rolled them to the side and spooned against her. Words needed to be said, but could wait as the two lovers, mates, lay together, connected in every way.

As they slipped back to sleep, they both sighed in realization. The home that had become a sanctuary for the Slayer was now simply a place to live and the safety that the vampire had sought had become more. Each now knew where true sanctuary lay and they embraced it in their hearts.

The End.

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