Of Mist and Midnight Skies

Spike inhaled deeply, letting the scent of damp earth swirl around his senses as he stalked quietly across the dark cemetery. The ground was swathed in a fine layer of mist, floating gently, ghostly, a few feet from the dewy grass and softly wrapping itself around the tombstones but avoiding the woods in which he walked—as though it was scared of the trees, or himself. He moved slowly with the feline grace and deadly intent of a predator, his eyes barely shifting course as he took in all around him with ease and experience.

A distant noise broke through the sounds of silence. The night insects stilled their song and the fluttering of wings could be heard in the trees that surrounded him.

Pausing mid-step, he came back to rest on his heels and cocked his head to one side. Closing his eyes, he listened closely for the noise to come again.

He smiled as silence greeted him once more.

He loved Halloween.

Resuming his course through the trees that flanked the open ground of the graveyard, Spike let his imaginary hunt lead him back to his crypt. It had been a long time since he’d really hunted. This was as close as it got these days, skulking about in the darkness and watching people, secretly revelling in the way he could still move unnoticed through the most crowded room.

A noise broke the silence again, a voice, drifting to his ears and teasing them with its bittersweet tones.

He narrowed his eyes as he peered into the night, looking from headstone to headstone until he spotted his quarry. A wide grin spread slowly across his lips, his cheeks sucking in slightly to emphasise his pleasure on seeing her, hunting her.

A quiet snarl was the only sound he made as he slipped into vampire guise, his eyes turning amber and his senses sharpening to a pinpoint. He slipped silently deeper into the woods and wove his way towards where she was, his eyes never leaving her, following her course as she moved through the graves with a tune playing on her lips.

Stopping near the edge of the woods, he crouched low and watched her. He listened to her heartbeat echoing in him as if it was his own, memorised the steadiness of her breathing and ached over how he longed to disrupt it, to make her heart race and her breathing quicken, to break her, make her his.

He suppressed his desire to growl at the thoughts lingering in him. The pleasure they caused to flow through his body was becoming too familiar, so familiar that she was all he dreamt about now.

As she moved out from behind a tombstone and into the light of a street lamp, his ability to think left him. His chest heaved with his breathing, his passion for her spiralling out of control.

Her hips swayed enticingly as she weaved through the headstones, slowly moving towards where he was crouched in the shadows. She had her hair up, twirled elaborately and held by an ornate pin that shone in the mixture of moonlight and streetlight.

He narrowed his eyes as she neared the spot where they had stood a few nights before and stared up at the heavens. Neither one of them had been able to find the words to talk to each other so instead they’d sat in silence, just breathing softly and watching the stars—together.

His head tilted to one side as his expression turned soft. She had leaned against the very tomb they had sat upon. Her head tilted back and the gentle light of the moon illuminated her profile. He longed to go to her, to sit with her again and find the words that had been lost to him, but he couldn’t find the courage. He frowned as she continued to stare up at the heavens, her expression unchanging as she stood still as a statue.

As she moved her head slightly, the pale moonlight caused her neck to shine white and his eyes dropped to rest on it before moving lower. He arched a brow at her apparel, realising for the first time that she wasn’t dressed in her usual style. She was all in black. Her top was tight against her body, low cut and revealing as the bodice pressed into her, and its long flared sleeves were almost transparent. The skirt she was wearing was floor length, fitted and flared with a slight train that pooled around her platform heeled boots. He could barely make out where the skirt ended and the earth began. She was a sharp contrast to the pink satin covered girl he remembered seeing on Halloween a few years back—no longer an innocent but a she-devil.

He swore his temperature rose as he watched her hop up and sit on the lid of the low tomb, her pale fingers grasping the edge of the stone lid as her legs swung back and forth.

She looked like she was waiting for something.

Someone.

Slipping out of the shadows and onto the open grass behind her, he moved silently towards her. His game face receded as he closed in on her. The sound of her heartbeat filled his senses and her blood called to him like a siren song.

Hopping up onto the tomb behind her, he caught her upper arms in a tight grip and inhaled deeply as his lips came to rest by her neck.

A jolt ran through him.

She’d jumped.

He’d scared her.

Spike frowned as realisation hit him hard. She was so deep in thought that she hadn’t heard him, hadn’t sensed his approach, and didn’t know he was there until it was too late. He swallowed noisily as he backed away, releasing her arms from his strong grasp and frowning intensely as she turned her head to face him. He couldn’t understand it. She was out alone on Halloween. He could’ve been anyone, anything, out to kill her and she wouldn’t have had a chance to fight back.

Buffy caught the angry look in his eyes and narrowed hers softly as she smiled.

“I knew you were there, just didn’t think you were that close.”

He frowned questioningly.

“Come on, Spike… you in hunt mode? I can feel you a mile off… got your hunting signature put to memory… the way it feels…” Buffy trailed off and turned her face away from him again as her cheeks coloured slightly.

Spike slipped off the tomb and came around to stand in front of her. He’d learnt to read between the lines with her, knew the little looks that told him she’d said something she shouldn’t have. She’d let a glimmer of her true feelings slip out into the open.

He licked his teeth and smiled as he caught the awkward look on her face. She’d been enjoying the feeling of him hunting her, had got so caught up in it that she hadn’t realised just how close he’d gotten until it was too late. Spike pondered that too. She’d not reacted in the way he’d thought she would have, the way she would have a few months back. In place of the angry words and violence was a shy smile and blushing cheeks over having his hands on her, his lips at her neck.

He looked down at her hands where they were clasped in front of her, her fingers toying with themselves as silence surrounded them both.

For the first time since she’d appeared out of the mist he was looking at her hands and he didn’t like what he saw—she wasn’t carrying a weapon.

“Spike?” Buffy squinted up at him with tired eyes, stifling her desire to yawn as the church bells quietly pronounced the late hour—it was midnight.

Spike blinked at her. Now that he could see her from the front, he couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming her body. She looked incredible—like a bride of Dracula.

“Out alone on Halloween?” He raised his left brow at her and pulled a cigarette casually from the crumpled pack in his duster’s pocket.

Buffy smiled slightly as she watched him perch the cigarette on his lips, his hand moving gracefully to flick open his Zippo and the other one shielding the flame as he brought it up to the tip of his smoke, tugging on it as the end burned bright in the dim light.

“I was at a party, Xander’s party…” She began and realised that she was sounding apologetic. She didn’t know whether it was her apparel that she was apologising for or being at a party without him. Since coming back into the world, she’d spent more time with him than she had with anyone else. They’d spent hours just talking, he’d talk about anything so long as it put a smile on her face and she loved him dearly for that—for just being there for her, no questions, no making her feel, no judging her—just being with her.

She realised he was staring at her, his brows raised as he smoked his cigarette and patiently waited for her to continue.

“I was a little… bored… no, not bored, I… I… I mean it just felt weird, not patrolling. Halloween always makes me like this… maybe it’s not having anything to you know…” Her tone was distant and laced with apology as she raised her eyes to meet his, hoping he’d figure out what she was trying to say for her.

“Kill, murder, dust?” Spike offered and took a long drag on his smoke as he considered how alike they were—they both had the night off and yet here they were, itching for the hunt, the kill.

“The last one…”

“Not really dressed for patrol, love.” Spike observed and watched her smile, a small one that teased the corners of her mouth slightly.

“It’s Halloween.” She said as way of an excuse.

“Still, no weapon? Thought you knew better… your Halloween’s never quiet.”

“You’re here now so there’s nothing to worry about…” She dropped her eyes to rest on her hands again as he looked confused.

He cocked his head to one side as he mulled over what she’d said—she knew he’d protect her. Her words were testimony to the fact she felt safer with him around. His stomach heated through at the thought that she’d become so dependent on him. He decided it was best not to question her, questioning her just made her close back up again.

“Still, don’t think you’d fare so well in that skirt.” He flicked his spent cigarette to the floor and gave her a wicked little smile as she looked down at the garment in question.

“Maybe not. If something bad comes along I’ll cheer you on from the sidelines, used to be a cheerleader you know.” Buffy giggled.

Spike felt it hit him hard in the chest. It had been a long time since she’d giggled, too long.

“Now there’s something I’d love to see… Buffy the cheerleader.” Spike grinned and watched her cheeks turn rosy.

“I’m good with the cheering… besides… think Will would kill me if I wrecked her clothes.”

“Didn’t think they were yours… they still sorta smell like Willow.” Closing the gap between them, Spike sat next to her on the tomb, his eyes lingering on her top, tracing the line of her bosom up to her neck. He raised a brow at the sight of it so bare and unadorned, so temptingly naked.

Buffy swallowed hard as she felt his eyes zero in on the spot just below her jaw where her vein was clearly visible—it throbbed harder as her Slayer side kicked in, brought on by his subconsciously slipping into hunt mode.

He could feel her all around him, calling to him as she sat there desperately trying to steady her heartbeat and her breathing. He smiled, part of him smugly satisfied that his proximity had such an effect on her and part of him wanting to push her that little bit more, break her and make her his at last. He just needed to give her a reason to surrender, an excuse to give in to whatever thought was lingering deep inside her—to the feelings that he’d seen in her eyes.

“Any other reason for leaving the party, love?” Spike looked at her out of the corner of his eye and waited for her reaction, wanting to see if she turned apologetic again.

She toyed with her hands, keeping her eyes fixed on anything but him as she thought about what he’d asked. Was there another reason behind why she’d left the party, and why she’d come here of all places?

She wasn’t stupid. She realised that this was exactly the same spot where they had stood in comfortable silence together just a few nights before. She’d chosen it because of that.

That night had shown her that it was possible just to be with Spike, without the comments and the need for her to get her defences up. He could just be with her, and she could be with him.

“Bored, like I said… was looking for some action.” Her cheeks flushed hotly as she realised that what she’d said might have other implications if he was in that frame of mind.

Spike smirked and let it slide. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable. She seemed to be doing a grand job of that all by herself.

“So what are you supposed to be?” He asked as he playfully nudged her arm with his.

Buffy looked at her clothes for a second before hopping down off the tomb and holding her arms out so he could fully appreciate her outfit.

“A vampire.” She said as his eyes raked over her body.

Spike swallowed hard and slid off the tomb lid, closing the gap between them and looking over her appraisingly as though he was judging her.

“Vampire?” He watched her pout as he questioned her and then walked around behind her, smiling wickedly as he trailed a lone finger across the back of her neck.

Buffy closed her eyes as a shiver of pleasure ran up her spine and danced around her neck.

Stepping up behind her, Spike ghosted his hands around her sides and let them hover over her stomach. He wanted to touch her, but he was scared that would be one step too far and she’d leave him alone in the cemetery.

“You’d make a stunning, beautiful vampire.” He purred into her ear and smiled to himself as she breathed in sharply, her brows furrowing slightly.

She knew it was wrong to let him say such things, it was wrong to let him play on her fears, but the way he said it made it seem okay. Besides, she knew he’d never go that far, even if she gave him the chance to.

Dipping his head, he inhaled the scent of her skin and then closed his eyes as he let his lips brush against her neck. When she didn’t stop him, he parted his lips and wrapped his mouth around the soft curve of her throat, giving her a playful suck.

He was stunned when she continued to stand there with her arms held out by her side and her eyes closed.

He could hear the fast thumping of her heart against her chest. He could hear the swish of her blood as it pumped quickly through her veins, and could feel the rise and fall of her stomach against his hands.

Dragging himself away from her, he watched as she came out of the moment and gave him a shy look.

It almost floored him.

He stood silent for what seemed like an eternity, just looking into her eyes and searching for the right words to say.

Unable to think of a response to what had just happened between them, he scratched the back of his neck and dipped his head slightly before looking at her and saying the first thing that came to mind.

“You wanna watch a movie?” He pointed in the direction of his crypt and gave a little shrug as if he was trying to show her that it was fine if she didn’t want to.

Buffy nodded, unable to find her voice to answer him and scared that if she opened her mouth she’d automatically reject his offer. The truth of it was that she wanted to watch a movie with him, wanted to see exactly what he did on Halloweens where he wasn’t trying to kill her.

She looked down at her dress and mused that she’d changed a lot since that night, that a few years had made a world of difference. She saw herself a child back then, wanting to impress a boy by dressing in what now looked like a hideous pink monstrosity to her. What she was wearing tonight probably would have had more effect. At least it would have had more effect on one of the vampires present in her life at that time.

Spike.

The way he looked at her that night, when compared to the way he was looking at her tonight, couldn’t have been more different. Back then she’d been his quarry, but she’d still seen a quiet attraction in his eyes. Tonight, he was looking at her as though he was barely restraining himself from making a move on her.

And weirdly, both times she would have welcomed it.

She felt her cheeks flush slightly as that thought crossed her mind. It still felt wrong to admit that she was attracted to him during his ‘I’m going to kill you phase’, but there had been such animal magnetism between them that by the time he’d come to offer his help to her when Angel had gone bad, she’d been the one barely able to restrain herself. Since then, she’d repressed her feelings for him and had convinced herself to see him as nothing more than another vampire.

A vampire with no claim on her affections.

Now, the veil of denial had lifted and she once again found herself dancing the tightrope of giving in to her desire or burying her head in the sand.

She gave him a grateful smile as he held the door open for her and allowed her entrance to his home.

Suddenly she didn’t know what to do.

She just stood in the middle of his crypt, watching him as he moved to the little television set he owned and turned it on.

Spike looked over his shoulder at her and found her staring at him, her hands clasped in front of her and her face soft and childlike. He smiled as he moved over to her, catching her around the shoulders and leading her to the couch. He waited for her to sit down before seating himself.

As she curled up into a more comfortable position and her knees brushed against his thigh, he inhaled sharply.

Buffy bit her lower lip and decided that things were a lot easier when Spike was trying to kill her and she hated him. All these feelings and this trepidation were making it so hard to be around him. She felt as though she was on a downward slope, picking up speed and unable to stop now that she’d admitted to herself that there was something happening between them, and it was happening on both sides.

She hadn’t been bored at the party. She could have entertained herself if she’d chosen to. In reality, she didn’t want to be there.

In reality, she wanted to be right here, in this crypt, with Spike.

She gave him a little smile as he looked at her and slumped further into the couch, his arm coming to rest on her knees. She swallowed down the lump of nerves in her throat and rested her head against the back of the couch as her eyes fixed on the television.

“What we watching?” Her voice sounded so loud in the quiet crypt that she bit her lip again, feeling awkward as Spike chuckled slightly.

“Dracula.”

“Gary Oldman is way prettier than the real Drac.” Buffy remarked and then gave Spike a blank look as he frowned at her.

His eyes dropped to her neck and he found his stomach tying itself up in tight knots of jealousy as he looked at the marks on her.

Buffy’s hand slowly rose to her throat and she touched the twin sets of marks that scarred her skin. She didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking, or even what he was feeling. When he’d pressed his blunt teeth against her skin in the cemetery, he’d chosen to do it on the side that wasn’t marked.

She knew that every time he looked at her neck, he saw the vampires that had previously got a taste of her and that he wanted to be among them, but apart from them at the same time.

He wanted to mark her in a different way.

His bite wouldn’t be about saving himself as Angel’s had been, or about trying to place a thrall on her like Dracula. His bite would be about showing the world that he had a claim on her and she was his, and his alone.

Crazily, part of her liked the idea of that. It would be like having a tattoo with his name on it, but that little bit more.

She realised that she was just staring straight into his eyes as she thought all this, and gave him a small smile that she hoped would ease the confusion and curiosity she could see in him.

“Is this what you do on Halloween? I mean, when you’re not trying to kill a Slayer-turned-innocent-maid.” She smiled as he arched a brow at her.

Spike looked her over again, enjoying the contrast she’d just presented him with and letting his mind wander its own course. She looked so sassy, so alluring in her costume and the more he looked at her the less he was able to resist.

Buffy watched as his lips parted slightly, his breathing faltering as he looked at her clothes and she felt as though he was seeing straight through them to her body. She couldn’t stifle the blush that swept up from her toes, causing a prickly heat to erupt in a wave across every inch of her skin.

Her breathing hitched as she felt the atmosphere in the room thicken, the tension between them so palpable that she could almost reach out and grab hold of it.

Just like she wanted to reach out and grab hold of him.

So what if Willow would flip, or Xander would threaten to kill him? Dawn would be happy, and so would she.

That was all that mattered really.

Leaning back slightly, she let her lips part as Spike purred low in his chest and leaned towards her, matching her move for move. She swallowed noisily as his hand left her leg and slid under her arm and came to rest on her back.

She stared up at the crypt ceiling as he drew her back towards him, her back arching as her head rolled backwards.

Spike’s eyes moved immediately to her neck and he felt his teeth itching to descend as he pulled her closer to him as though she was a rag-doll.

As she was tugged onto his lap, she came to her senses slightly and had to squash her instinct to run away. She didn’t want to leave. She didn’t want to make herself do something that she’d regret.

She wanted this, and she was going to have it.

Spike stared at her as she sat astride his lap with her eyes closed. Her body was tense, her face reflecting her internal struggle and he stopped breathing as he waited for her to reject his move.

She wanted to be with him, she wanted this to happen as much as he did, but she’d spent so many years convincing herself so thoroughly that it was wrong that she was sure to bolt out of habit.

He was surprised when after a few seconds she opened her eyes and looked straight into his, her green eyes bright with confidence and certainty.

Buffy pressed shaky hands against his chest and marvelled at how tight it felt under her fingers. She stared at them as she moved them over his torso, memorising every contour of it.

Spike forgot to breath.

He just stared at her with wide eyes full of awe and his mouth hanging open slightly.

He’d dreamt about this moment countless times, but had never thought in all his existence that it would ever happen.

“Buffy…” He started but he found a small finger pressed against his lips.

“It’s our night off… not Slayer or vampire… just two people who want to be with each other.” She said as she looked deep into his eyes and released his mouth.

“What about tomorrow?”

Buffy smiled slightly. “Tomorrow we wake up in a different world, one where anything that feels right is right.”

“Sure?” He couldn’t help questioning her. She seemed to have thought it all out, but he didn’t want to get a taste of being with her tonight only to have it taken away tomorrow.

“No going back.” Buffy promised him as she motioned a cross over her heart and smiled as his eyes came to rest there.

“No going back.” Spike murmured as he pressed his hands into her lower back and pulled her towards him.

She closed her eyes as he pressed long wet kisses to her chest. Threading her fingers into his hair, she held him against her and smiled as he breathed her in. She rested her head against his as he moved up towards her neck, his lips praising every available millimetre of her skin and his teeth nipping at her slightly as he reached her throat.

She noted again that he was after the unmarked side of her neck.

He didn’t want his marks lost in amongst others—he wanted them to proudly stand out.

Leaning forward, Buffy trailed little kisses down his throat. His skin felt cool under her lips. His scent of leather and smoke filled her senses and she closed her eyes as she nipped playfully at him.

When he gave a quiet moan of appreciation, she bit him a little harder and was astounded when he held her to him, his hand wrapping itself around the back of her head and keeping her lips on his throat.

Buffy stared at his neck and then licked her teeth. She smiled wickedly as an idea flitted across her mind and she decided to take the opportunity to show him just what a good vampire she could be.

Spike tensed as she bit down hard on his neck and a jolt of pleasure ran through his body. Leaning his head back, his eyes fell closed as he felt her small teeth puncturing his skin and he completely lost himself in her.

Pulling back, she smiled at the little marks she’d made on him and then squealed as she found his mouth at her neck.

She didn’t have time to form a protest, the next thing she felt was the sharp sensation of pain as his teeth sank into her flesh and then an undeniable wave of pleasure as his fingers dug into her waist and he held her tight against him.

She struggled on principle and then let her eyes close as he growled and it rumbled through her. Running her fingers into the short hair at the back of his head, she let them course up until she was firmly grasping his hair and holding him against her. She let out an involuntary moan as he bit down harder and then released her, his mouth wrapping around the wound as he greedily sucked on it.

Letting herself get lost in the moment, she craned her neck and let her tongue run shakily over the wound she’d made on his throat. As she caught the tiny beads of blood that had formed, she felt her blood rush to her head and she wrapped her lips around the marks and sucked on them as a stream of images hit her.

Spike moaned into her neck as he felt her sucking his blood and it drove him on, making him crave her even more. He didn’t stop to think about what she was doing, he just responded automatically, wanting to make the most of what was happening.

Buffy breathed hard as she drew herself away from him, her head still spinning with the visions of Spike she’d received from his blood.

She’d never realised that he saw things like that, that he saw her like that.

Spike stopped drinking and looked at her as she sat astride his lap and stared at him.

“What’s wrong?” He frowned and brushed his thumb across her lower lip, clearing the blood away.

“You really see me like that?”

Spike’s brows rose as he realised what she was saying. He’d heard tales that Slayers could receive visions from vampire blood, and he remembered Buffy mentioning that it had happened to her when she’d tasted Dracula.

“Really.” He confirmed it with a smile and let his eyes meet hers. “You’re beautiful…most beautiful creature I’ve set eyes on, and I’ve been around a long time.”

Buffy dropped her eyes to her knees, blushing furiously as his words made her feel shy. She’d been told she was pretty before, good looking, and even beautiful, but she’d never been told with such sincerity.

She’d never believed anyone but him.

“Not just on the outside either.” He placed his fingers under her chin and raised her eyes up to meet his again. “You’re beautiful inside, too.”

Buffy smiled shakily. She wanted to deny his words, wanted to say she wasn’t beautiful inside, but she couldn’t bring herself to brush aside what he’d said.

She was beautiful.

She felt an intense heat course through her and caught hold of his hand, slipping her fingers into his and pressing their palms together.

“So are you, you know.” She said quietly and then found her confidence when he cocked his head to one side. “Beautiful, through and through.”

Spike wondered if he was blushing because he certainly felt as though he was. Wanting to make the most of the tranquillity that had descended between them, he pulled Buffy towards him. Wrapping his arm around her, he settled her sideways across his lap and revelled in how nice it felt to be with her, standing on the brink of a relationship and knowing that she wanted it too.

He pressed a kiss to her neck and smiled at his marks.

Buffy smiled back at him as she ghosted her fingers over the marks she’d made on him.

Resting her head against his neck, she curled up against him and sighed out her breath as she relaxed. It felt so comforting to be held by him, to just sit with him watching the television and feeling his fingers lightly stroking her skin. It felt so perfect.

She let her eyes settle on the television as she thought about what tomorrow would bring.

Lots of questions.

Lots of arguments and trying to make her friends accept what had happened.

But all that seemed insignificant when she thought about what else it would bring.

A new day.

One where she’d finally found what she’d been searching for all this time.

Love.

~*~ End ~*~

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