Title: Four Kisses Spike and Buffy Never Shared (and One They Did)
Note: Decidedly AU, except for the last one :-) And all individual titles are taken from song titles, which are acknowledged at the end of the fic
1. Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me
Acapulco, Mexico (post - Graduation Day)
Her mother meant well. She really did. An Acapulco vacation probably seemed like just the thing to get Buffy's mind off her silly teenage troubles. A little sun, a little sand, and she'd forget all about that little high school crush.
So Buffy did what was expected. She smiled and laughed and read trashy novels on the beach. She even got her hair braided by a young girl who called her *bonita*, and threaded colorful beads through her sun-bleached strands.
And every night, when her mother had fallen asleep after one too many Margaritas, Buffy would slip out of their hotel room, shoes in hand. The clubs were open till dawn, filled with throbbing music and dark-eyed boys who ogled her hungrily and asked her to dance. But no matter how many bodies she let press against her, no matter how many hands she let grope and fondle, none of them had eyes that were quite the right shade of brown. Their shoulders were too narrow. Their skin too sweaty. But she always went back the next night, and there were always more of them to follow her around like puppies.
On her last night in town, lucky number seven, she chose a club she hadn't been to before, in a rougher part of town. She was the Slayer, after all, so there was no real danger. Not that Buffy was particularly interested in feeling safe.
As she danced in the midst of a group of young men - she was with none of them, she was with all of them - someone caught her eye. Blond amongst a sea of dark hair, he lounged against the wall on the opposite side of the room, watching her with an openly lustful look on his familiar face. When she met his gaze, he smiled slightly, and raised the bottle he was holding in salute.
Buffy left the boys she was dancing with abruptly and thread her way through the crowd. Spike remained smiling until she grabbed the front of his shirt and slammed him hard against the wall.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded.
In a flash, he grabbed her wrist, reversed their positions, and painfully pinned her arm behind her back, up against the wall.
"Same as you, I expect. Trying to forget my troubles in a haze of alcohol and meaningless sex." His mouth was so close to her ear that his breath tickled her neck.
"You don't know what you're talking about," she said. She could easily push him off, so why didn't she? Spike pressed closer, easing his thigh between her legs. Her breasts were flattened against his chest now, and the pounding music filled her head.
"That so? You think this is the first night I've seen you, pet? You're losin' your touch. Too busy teasing those poor little boys to notice ol' Spike." His lips brush against the curve of her ear. "But I've noticed you."
She began to push him away but he shifted his leg, practically lifting her off the ground, and she had to stifle a groan of desire. God, she must really be messed up if Spike was turning her on.
"What happened, pet? He leave you high and dry? Not surprisin', it's what he does. That's how Dru left me, and that's all his fault, too. What say we take it out it out on each other? Leave those other poor sods alone."
His fingers trailed down her bare arms, raising goosebumps on her flesh. And when exactly did he release her wrist, anyway? She was completely free to stake his ass, and she would. As soon as she set him straight.
Buffy closed her eyes and swallowed hard. "No. That's not...I'm just...that's not what I'm doing."
"You don't know what you're doin', do you pet?" His fingers had worked their way under the hem of her top, cool and dry where she was hot and damp, thumbs working in tiny circles on her skin, moving higher and higher. She gripped his biceps, the leather crinkling under her hands.
"You're lonely. Lost. Nobody gets it, do they? Nobody understands what it's like to be you, different from everyone else. Left by the one person you thought understood the real you..." She was lost in his eyes now, which had gone soft and dreamy as he talked. She tried to look away, but she was pinned there, like a butterfly under glass.
"That's right, pet. Spike understands. Your friends, your mum, how could they know?" His head dropped lower and his hands moved higher. "I know what you need, pet."
One thumb caressed her nipple through the thin lace of her bra, and Buffy gasped, partly with shock, and partly desire. What was she doing? This was Spike! Vampire! Evil vampire. Not like Angel. Exactly the opposite of Angel. It was all lies, what he was saying. Spike had just developed some new - admittedly original - way of killing slayers, that was all. She put her hands against his chest and pushed. As he stumbled a step backwards, he gaped at her in surprise, and was that...hurt?
Buffy adjusted her blouse. "That's just about enough, Spike."
"No. Not quite."
His hand shot out and grabbed a handful of braids. She winced in pain as he yanked her head closer, covering her mouth with his. The kiss was bruising at first, but gentled as he realized she wasn't going to fight it. She felt his arms slide around her as his tongue slid against hers. And God, he could kiss. No wonder Drusilla stuck around a hundred years. Buffy fisted her hands in his hair, and kissed him some more.
She pulled away gently, and stared into his eyes. Spike looked back, a little dazed, and as he bent his head to kiss her again - she punched him as hard as she could in the nose.
He doubled over in pain. "Ow! What the bloody hell did you do that for?"
Blood trickled from his nose, bright red against his pale skin. Buffy moved closer to him so he could hear what she had to say above the loud music.
"This never happened. Do you understand me?"
"Sure, pet. Won't breath a word." He leered at her, wiping the blood away with the back of his hand. "But you and I both know the truth. How bad you want it."
"In your dreams, Spike," she said, heading out the back door. He followed her out to the alley behind the club, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.
"Nice to see you again, pet."
Buffy was already half-way down the alley. "Stay away from me, Spike," she called back over her shoulder. "The next time I see you, I'm going to kill you."
"Not if I kill you first," he said cheerfully.
Buffy paused when she reached the street. What was she doing, leaving him there? This was ridiculous. She needed to get rid of him once and for all. She picked up a scrap of wood to use as a make-shift stake, and turned around.
Spike was still standing where she'd left him, staring down at something in the palm of his hand. It sparkled in the light from the bare bulb that illuminated the doorway, and it took her a moment to realize what it was. Her hand went self-consciously to her head; he was holding one of the beads from her hair.
Spike rolled it between his fingers, then closed his hand around it, grinning and placing it carefully in an inside pocket of his coat. She ducked out of his line of sight as he turned and headed in the opposite direction with a full-on swagger, leather swirling around him.
Buffy leaned back against a building and closed her eyes. She would dust him the next time she saw him. Really, she would.
2. A Kiss To Build A Dream On
Honolulu, Hawaii (post - Something Blue)
It was a warm evening, with just a hint of a breeze. Giles breathed deeply, taking in the sea air, trying to remain calm. Even after all this time, it was difficult for him to believe this was actually going to happen. He kept expecting (hoping) that they'd get waylaid by something. A nice apocalypse, perhaps. But in the universe's continuing efforts to ruin his life, all their plans went off without a hitch. Buffy was getting married. She'd had the traditional works, too - bridal shower, white dress, bachlorette party. And as for the bachelor party? Well, Giles had lived through it, and would never speak of it again lest the nightmares return.
He sensed her now, giddy with happiness beside him, and chastised himself for his negative thoughts. Who was he to ruin her joy? She'd been so depressed after Angel, and now she was practically dancing on air. When she wasn't at her fiancé's throat, that was. But really, was that so unusual? Hmm...
He jumped when her unnaturally strong yet tiny hands gripped his arm. "I'm so nervous, Giles! Thank you for being here."
His heart warmed at the sound of her voice. He'd been a strange combination of thrilled and disgusted when she'd asked him to give her away to...Spike. "I wouldn't dream of being anywhere else, Buffy," he said truthfully, patting her hand. "I know I'm not your father, but I am proud to be standing by your side on this day." If only she were marrying someone he could trust and respect a bit more, that would make things so much better. Someone like Ted Bundy, for example.
"Even if my father were here, I'd want you to give me away. He hasn't been here for me. You have, Giles. Thank you." He felt her arms around him, and a column of white silk squeezed him tight enough to crack a rib.
"Air..." he managed to say.
She released him with a giggle. "Sorry. I'm just so happy!" She sobered quickly. "If only you could see me, Giles. If only you could see me on my wedding day."
A pang of loss stabbed at his heart. "It's alright, dear," he said, forcing a smile and reaching out to touch her. She caught his hand and brought it to her cheek. "I can see you, very clearly. And you've never been more beautiful."
The processional began, and Buffy clutched his arm tightly as they made their way down the aisle - or whatever one called it when it was actually a beach. Reluctantly, he answered as expected when asked who gave this woman to this...man. Willow was at his other side immediately, guiding him to his seat before she went back to her place as maid of honor. And the ceremony went on.
"Okay. So this isn't so bad, right?" Xander asked, leaning over his shoulder from the chair behind him. "I mean, we knew it was gonna happen. And they'll have drinks after."
"We can only hope."
"Yes. With those litte umbrellas!" Anya added. "I like those."
The half-demon justice of the peace Giles had hired had the most boring monotone he‘d ever heard. But one thing he said caught Giles‘ attention. "If anyone has any objections to this union, let him speak now or forever hold his peace."
Xander leaned forward again. "Giles, hold me back!"
"Now why would I do that?" Perhaps there was a way to save this day after all.
"You'd both better be still." Giles could hear the warning tone in Anya's voice. "Willow is giving you the evil eye. And I don't want to be dancing with a toad at the reception, Xander."
Ah, well, it was a good thought.
Giles listened with a heavy heart as Buffy and "William" were pronounced husband and wife. He did truly want her to be happy, more than anything else. She might have very little time to enjoy it, so who was he to judge who should be the one to provide that happiness? And Spike did seem to truly love her, after all. Why else would a vampire agree to a wedding and honeymoon in sunny Hawaii, of all places? He was jolted from his reverie by Anya's anguished cries.
"Oh! Oh God!"
"What is it?" Giles asked, panicked. He knew something like this would happen. Demons would try to disrupt the ceremony, or attack the guests. Some of Spike's 'friends' perhaps. And he with no way to defend himself or anyone else. "What is it? I hear...disgusting smacking sounds!"
"It's...well, it's just horrible!" Anya said.
Xander gripped his shoulder. "Just be glad you're still blind."
Giles took a deep breath. "For pity’s sake, please tell me, what is it?"
"Didn't you hear the justice of the peace?" Anya asked. "He said, 'you may now kiss the bride.' I think Spike's going to swallow her whole."
Giles tried to block out all sound, but it was impossible. And he sincerely wished he'd gone with the dry toast rather than the poached egg for breakfast.
Finally, the wedding march began. Spike gripped Giles' hand as he and Buffy passed by, slapping him companionably on the shoulder. "Hey, old man. Did Buffy tell you? She thought you could use some help about the house, given your condition and all. So right after the honeymoon, we're movin' in!"
"Oh...my God. That...that won't be necessary, Spike. Really."
"No worries! You're family now! Dad."
Buffy kissed Giles on the cheek, and he was left standing there in a daze.
Xander took his elbow and steered him out into the aisle. He nearly stumbled as the sand shifted under his feet. “Okay then, time to party. I know I’m filled with joy and love.”
"Xander," Giles said, "I'm going to be needing a lot of Scotch. Hold the umbrellas."
Xander sighed heavily. "And so say we all."
3. Kiss of Life
Sunnydale, CA (post - The Gift)
When Buffy enters his crypt, it's with a whimper and not a bang, and if he thought he couldn't feel any worse he was wrong. She's a shadow of herself, small and uncertain. Looks like a good, loud 'boo' would send her running into the night, matter of fact. She stares at him for one impossibly long moment, can't seem to take her eyes off the cuts and bruises that cover his face and body, advertising his failure. Spike can't even look her in the eye.
He braces himself as she approaches. Doesn't seem to have much fight in her, but he'll make it easy on her; he deserves whatever she wants to do to him. It's his fault that Dawn is dead. Dawn is dead. He hears the words in his head and his gut lurches all over again.
He'd underestimated Giles - a fatal mistake, turns out. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees his nibblet's expression go from confused to terrified as she realizes what's happening, and caught off guard, he's pitched over the side of the tower. Moments later, her small, broken body was lying there in the rubble beside him. It's his fault, this terrible look on Buffy's face. All his fault. The oblivion that her stake will grant will be a blessing he doesn't deserve.
But Buffy doesn't stake him. Doesn't hit him or even curse at him. Instead, she lays her head on his shoulder and starts to cry. Her tears, hot and salty, stream silently down her face and drip onto his bare skin, stinging his open wounds. But that's not the worst of it. It's as if his chest is laid open, his very heart exposed. Who knew something that was dead could hurt so much?
He tries to tell her how sorry he is, even though every word from his mouth sounds stupid and inadequate, and Buffy shushes him, shaking her head in protest.
"No. You tried. To save her. You were the only one. The only one." She looks up at him with red-rimmed eyes, searching his face for answers he's sure he doesn't have. "How could he do it? How could they let him?"
"Thought they had to give Dawn up for the greater good, I s'pose," he says, stroking her hair. "Don't care much about the greater good myself. Only you and her." He can feel the tears threatening. "Buffy. You were counting on me. I said 'til the end of the world, an' I..."
Her arms go around his neck, and she pulls his mouth down to hers. "But it is the end of the world, Spike. I think it really is."
And he thinks she must be right; it would have to be, for her to kiss him this way, hot and sad and sweet and desperate, all at the same time.
Spike holds a thousand dreams come true in his arms, and all he can think is how much he wishes she was home with Dawn instead. That she never had a reason to come to him for comfort. If only it had been him turned to dust, turned back to the earth again instead of his sweet little bit. That's the way it should be. But if she needs him now, he'll be there for as long she lets him. Kiss her tears away. Try to be what she needs.
He's only a dead man. But he'll do what he can.
4. Shut Up and Kiss Me
London, England (post - Tablula Rasa)
Randy did not regret his decision to move back to England. And he didn't miss Joan. Or her bratty kid sister. And he wasn't bored out of his mind, living here with his father and Anya. No, not in the least.
"Randy, I've got a job for you."
He jumped up from his chair so fast he nearly knocked over his mug of blood. "Oh, thank God. What is it? Vampire? Demon? Some other nasty?"
His father wrote down something on a piece of paper and handed it to him. It was a time and flight number. "Close. I need you to pick up some clients for me at the airport."
Randy's eyes narrowed. "Clients? Since when do you have clients flying in from out of town?"
"Well, you see, there's a new product that Anya and I are looking into..." His father removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"Oh, for God's sake, Rupert, just tell him. He's not stupid," Anya said, giving Randy an assessing look. "Well, not completely."
"Thanks ever so, Mom. And what are you on about?"
Anya sat down on the arm of his father's chair. "It's Joan and Dawn. Rupert was sick of you mooning over Joan, and frankly so was I. So with my encouragement, he made up some pretense about a big, fat, evil whatever stalking London and called in Joan for help. A complete lie, by the way."
Rupert gave his wife an exasperated look. "Thanks for breaking it to him gently, love. But yes, Randy, I'm sorry, but it's true. You've obviously been very unhappy since you've been here. I don't know what transpired between the two of you, but you and Joan need to resolve your relationship one way or another."
"We had a huge row, that's what transpired! And our relationship is resolved. I can't stand her, and she hates my guts! She's incredibly bossy, you know."
"That she is."
"Thinks she's entitled or something! The big important super hero! Not to mention stubborn. And don't get me started on those stupid jokes of hers..."
Rupert nodded sympathetically.
"God, I think I'm in love with her." Randy put his head in his hands. "And she hates me. I know she does."
"Don't be so sure." Anya came over and patted his shoulder awkwardly. "Loved ones often annoy one another. Don't they, Rupert?"
His father smiled adoringly at her. "Indeed. And I got the distinct feeling that she's been rather lonely back in California. Willow and Tara have joined some sort of coven, and Alex has decided to travel for awhile. She was very excited when I asked her to come for a visit."
Randy sighed. "Maybe. But Dad, why don't you go and pick them up? I need some more time to think about what I'm going to say, and..."
"No! No, you have to pick them up," Anya said.
Anya rolled her eyes, like he was missing the most obvious point in the world. "Because then you'll know. She's not expecting to see you. She'll be caught off guard." Anya smiled knowingly. "And that's how you'll know."
Randy didn't have much confidence in Anya's relationship skills, but then again he didn't have anyone else to compare her to. And she did seem to make his father happy. Randy paced the baggage claim area, waiting for their flight to arrive. He saw Joan first, her golden hair caught back in a pony tail, a small duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She was talking animatedly with Dawn as they traveled down the escalator together. He waited several feet away from the landing until the crowd cleared in front of him before stepping forward.
She saw him then, her eyes lighting up, and her lips - those soft, full, lush lips - curving into a huge smile. Dawn pushed past her sister and embraced him; by the time they'd finished saying hello, Joan had composed herself, gazing at him in a mixture of boredom and mild annoyance.
"I thought your dad was picking us up."
"Something came up."
She nodded. "Our luggage should be coming out soon. And I'm beat, so let's get going."
She began to walk away from him, towards the baggage carousel. He grabbed her arm to stop her.
"Not so fast."
Mild turned to major annoyance as she snatched her arm away. "What?"
So this was how it was going to go. He should have known. "You are the most exasperating person I...can ever remember meeting!"
She crossed her arms over her chest. "Well, that makes us even then. Can I get my bags now?"
"And why not?"
"Because..." He wanted to scream in frustration. He'd had this whole big speech planned about how they were meant to be. A vampire and a slayer - it was bloody poetic, that's what it was. Why couldn't she see that?
"Oh, sod it." He grabbed her around the waist, pulled her towards him, and kissed her.
She tried to protest, at first. Her hands were splayed against his chest, and she pushed at him ineffectually. He knew she could have thrown him across the room if she wanted to, so he took that as encouragement, and pulled her closer. "I love you, you silly bint!"
The smile was back. "You know, if I ever find out what that means, you're going to be in big trouble!" she said. And then she was kissing him back, hands in his hair as she made these little noises in the back of her throat that were threatening to drive him mad. In fact, if she didn't stop that very soon, he was going to ...
"Guys! Do I have to get the hose? Guys!"
Randy raised his head and looked at Dawn, confused. "What?"
"We're in the middle of baggage claim," she whispered. "Everyone is staring. Plus - ewww."
Joan and Randy looked around slowly. It was true - several people had turned to stare at them, oblivious to their suitcases, which must be on their third go around.
"Oh, God." Joan turned red, hiding her face in his chest.
"Yeah. I little too much PDA. I thought the little sister was supposed to embarrass the big sister with that kind of thing."
"Sorry, peanut. My fault. I just...missed your big sis so much, I couldn't resist."
Joan smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "I missed you, too."
"Oh, gag me," Dawn said. "I liked it better when you were at each others throats."
"Oh, just wait a while," Joan said. "I'm sure we will be again." She grinned at Randy, and he grinned back.
Yes, they were vampire and slayer. Mortal enemies soon to become lovers. Destined to fight and shag and fight and shag some more.
It was bloody poetic if you asked him.
5. Then He Kissed Me
Rome, Italy (post - Not Fade Away)
When he knocked on her door, it wasn't really a surprise. She'd found out what was happening in L.A., too late to help. From what she knew about it, it was a really stupid (reckless, brave) plan Angel had, but he'd always pulled it off before. Besides, he had Spike with him, and there wasn't a better second in this or any other universe. This she believed without a doubt.
So when she opened the door to find Spike on her threshold, she wasn't surprised.
"About time," she said.
"That's what I figured."
"Well, if you've got bad news, you better come in," she said. He was alone, and she assumed that meant Angel was gone.
Spike didn't move. "Not bad. Well, depending on your point of view. Angel's hurt, but he'll make it."
She didn't bother trying to hide her relief. "Oh, thank God."
He looked down at his boots. "Yeah. Turns out he's human now, too. Got his big reward. Which was a bit of a surprise, as we thought he'd signed it away. But the Powers That Be ain't the Powers That Be for nothin', are they?"
She could feel her heart pounding in her chest - and she knew he could hear it, too. "I...don't know what to say."
"I know you love him, Buffy. An' I just want you to be happy. Well, that not all I want, but it's the most important thing, yeah?" He turned and started down the hallway toward the stairs.
"Why...why did you come here?"
He shrugged. "Wanted to see you. I should have come before. I'll see you again sometime, right?" He smiled, that sad smile that she'd seen so often that last year they were together in Sunnydale. "Tell the nibblet I said hey." And then he was gone.
It took her three days to find him - she must be getting rusty. He was in a strip club, and had the decency to look chagrined when he found her standing over him.
"It's a good thing you look pathetic and depressed, or I would be so outta here."
"Uh. Hi Buffy. Can I...buy you a drink?"
"Uh, no. We are leaving. And you should be, like, really embarrassed."
"Oh believe me, I am."
They walked for awhile before she spoke. Or tried to. Her carefully planned speech just didn't seem to be coming out right. Damn, she used to be really good at them, too. Finally she stopped walking and he turned back to look at her questioningly.
"Okay, look. You're stupid."
That got half a smirk out of him. "You sure know how to butter up a man, Slayer. Tell me more."
"No, I mean it."
He ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, well. Tell me something I don't know, then."
"You don't know, apparently, that I love you. Even though I told you! Okay, so it wasn't the best timing..."
"I know you love me, after a fashion..."
"After a fashion, what the hell does that mean? Is that like shirty? I think you're just trying to confuse me!"
Spike stepped forward and put his hands gently on her shoulder. "Calm down, Slayer. Just meant that there's different kinds of love, yeah? And I know you meant what you said. But it's not the same as how I feel for you. Or how you feel for Angel. That's all."
She pushed his hands away. "Oh, so now you know how I feel, is that it?"
Spike's eyes narrowed. "Well, somebody has to."
"And what the hell does that mean?"
"It means that you've never been able to figure out where I fit into your life, and I'm bloody well tired of it! So go off and have babies with Angel, will you? I just hope they don't have his forehead!"
He turned and stalked off, all Big Bad and motorcycle boots and sexy leather coat. Well. As if she was going to let him get the last word.
She ran ahead and grabbed him, spinning him around and pushing him up against a glass storefront. Several expressionless mannequins dressed in the latest fashions stared out at them, a silent audience.
"You want to know how I feel about you? I. Love. You. The big, stupid-making, can't stop thinking about you kind of love. Have sexy dreams about you love. Imagine you when I'm with someone else love. You're right, I do love Angel. I always will. But this is not the time for him and me. This is the time for you and me. If you'll just stop being such a huge idiot and kiss me!"
It was just like she remembered, his lips on hers. So many sensations she didn't know what to feel first. Soft and hard, sweet and salty. Spike put his whole body into kissing, arms and shoulders and legs and cock all getting into the act. Somehow, she was now the one pressed up against the smooth, cold glass, her feet barely touching the ground. One of his arms was hooked around her waist, holding her steady while one hand held her face as if it was something precious and breakable. Irreplaceable. Her legs started to wobble and he hitched her up tighter against him. "I got you," he murmured into her mouth.
She wasn't sure how long they stayed there before a car passed by, a group of teenagers sticking their heads out the window to hoot and whistle at them. "Spike. Spike, let's go home." He pulled away from her slowly, continuing to press soft, small kisses to her lips as if he had to ease off and couldn't just stop cold turkey.
"Spike," she said, feeling the need to issue a formal invitation. "Will you please come home with me?"
He nodded, and grinned, and kissed her again.
And oh God, this was going to be good.
"Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me" by U2
"A Kiss To Build A Dream On" by Louis Armstrong
"Kiss Of Life" by Peter Gabriel
"Shut Up And Kiss Me" by Mary Chapin Carpenter
"Then He Kissed Me" by The Crystals