5. No Pain, Just Peace

***U***

Unbelievable. I still can't breathe. If I tried to stand I know I wouldn't make it. I don't think he would either from the looks of him. His eyes are so blue; they glow like an angel's. An angel who's been on a spree. That's so bizarre for someone I know is a demon. But he's just as beautiful as a Guardian.

Oh, geez!

If I start laughing I won't be able to stop, and then he'll do that delicious pout because he thinks I'm laughing at him, and... woops, sore body, been through a yummy mangler tonight and need to take a break - come on - no, don't come on - argh!

But Spike's my Guardian Angel. I get it now. And it's hilarious. And wonderful.

I reach up one gentle hand, still trembling finely, and stroke his cheek. He's blanched white still - if he was human, he'd be sweating and heaving for breath like me - but it's the same thing for him. I stroke his cheek and he arches into it, this enormous purr swelling up like a puma's.

Damn, that's endearing. He's still shocky from coming that hard but he loves me so much just my touch makes him react like that.

Whoa.

***V***

Victory over the Vampire! My thoughts backtrack just a little as he curls into my touch as if it's life, blood, the breath he no longer has. He breathed for just a little while, at the heat, the height of it, when he screamed and shouted and yelled my name so loud that any living or non-living neighbors are probably still sitting up in bed with the covers pulled up to cartoon-sized eyeballs, wondering just what the hell's going on in here tonight.

Then again, given the way I was shrieking "Spike" and "William the Bloody" and "Ride 'em, pony", they may be hiding UNDER their beds.

But it happened. We - I - did it. I made him come. Come like I can tell he hasn't in years, not with that idiot Harmony or even Buffy. Ew. Not going there. Yucky thoughts. Don't want them. Want to bask in the afterglow that is making love to Spike. And yes, I'm calling it making love, because there's no way that was something cheap as a one-night-stand or a quick buddy-fuck. I made love to the Big Bad and I made him come.

Me. The Zeppo.

But you know, that almost doesn't seem important (hey, I am male, hormones on legs here, it *is* pretty important) compared to what I just thought. Making love and my determination to call it that. Making love equals loving the make-ee. Do I love him?

Does he love me? Dumb question. I'm not bright, but I can tell, oh, I can tell that he does; he made that move lightning quick in his mind as he does everything else, and it took root in his heart fast as that.

He. Loves. Me. I can see it in his eyes. Feel it in his arms as he recovers faster - vampire stamina - and reaches for me, wanting, needing to hold me, soak up my heat and even my sweat and the mixed mess of our lovemaking that's mingled on my belly. Who would have thought Spike would be a cuddler?

I give him a gentle, huggy shake. "That was beautiful, William," I whisper to tease him, and earn an elbow in the ribs.

"Don't ever call me William," he whispers, fake-grouchy. "Nothing like that ponce."

"Of course you're not," I say as I kiss his forehead gently.

***W***

Oh, he's just like his old self, no matter how hard he tries not to be. A beautiful little geek in wolf's clothing. William, and why? I can't get past the L-word. No, Xander, say it, even if it's not out loud - yet. Love.

Damn. I guess I *do* love him.

How did this happen? Why did it happen at all? And why didn't it happen at all - sooner?

We've missed so much time by hating each other.

If I'd only known - that this could happen. Would there have been an Anya? Hunh. For that matter, would there have been a Cordelia? Ampata, yes. Mummy-girl maybe, wanted to drain the life out of me, but if you overlook that minor detail - yowwwwzah!

So maybe I'm gay. Maybe I'm not. Maybe I'm bi. Maybe I'm not.

Maybe I'm just in love.

With a vampire, a mass-murderer.

Oh, screw it. He hasn't been that in years. He's not a killer anymore, no matter how hard he tries to be. A killer of demons, and isn't that all the better for us? Geez. They must hate him now. I never... I never thought about what he must have given up. Probably friends. Maybe old friends. To stay with us? And help us? Which he did willingly, most of the time.

He didn't need the money. We're surrounded with stacks of Pistols, Clash, Who and Siouxsie CD's that rise high in glossy pillars. At least sixty candles, I lost count around there (well, he was nibbling on my nipple, f'pete's sake, counting wasn't exactly on my mind just then!), silk sheets that whisper and glide against each other, and a good sturdy oak bed (*must* have been vampire strength got that down here, let alone moved it at all. Oak's a heavy bitch.). No way Giles paid him enough for all this, unless he's not telling us something. Which I could believe. But this is all worth a fortune, more than I know Giles should have. So Spike has his own money. He didn't need the tidbits we doled out for his "help".

My cheeks burn and to hide my shame I bury my face in William's shoulder. Sweet-smelling shoulder, like soap and that talc for men, and just a little of my own sweat from earlier. I'm running through every swear word I know. How we must have humiliated him.

And yet he's here. In my arms. Loving me.

How the hell did I get so lucky as to win this prize?

***X***

X-stacy. X-static. How can he make me feel this way? No woman ever has. I have a scary notion that after this, no one lacking the necessary appendages will.

Whew... I have an ever scarier feeling - or is it blissful? - that those appendages include bleached blond hair, fangs, and well-broken-in Docs. No one else would be shaped or skilled enough to hit that magic spot so deep inside every time, and a plastic toy would so not be the same. No one else would have corded muscles that keep the chest from being flat, that are so blissful to trace and kiss and lick and nibble and - deep breath, Xander, just got done having sex with the evil vampire, and even with vampire stamina, give him a minute.

Wait. So that means I want to have sex with him again?

::thinking::

I do. I really, really do.

I want him to keep his eyes open so I can see them flicker from blue to gold. I want to keep my eyes wide open so that he can see mine go black with lust. And I want to see every grimace on his face, every writhe of that long, lean alabaster body when I sink into him. And I want to see him sink into me again; I want to watch this time. I never thought I'd love being fucked on my back so much. I never would let Anya play around like that - too much like Faith - and once I bought her the Kama Sutra, she was more than happy enough to try out other things.

Oh, my god, the Kama Sutra. The Sutra and Spike. I'm almost drooling, and Little Xan is doing his best. Limber as he is, there's probably a Sutra *of* Spike.

But there's one thing. Since Faith, I don't have sex with people I don't love. I even loved Anya a little bit, because even though she drove me insane she was endearing, like a puppy would be if you made it human - baffled and bewildered at the world, and needing someone to cling to and show affection for. And, well, there'd only been her since then. But there *was* the determination that built itself into me. I don't think I would have let go of that for one cool glance from those blue, blue eyes.

So. Mind-blowing sex. Gentle and sweet once you knock off his hard shell. Protective. Caring. A literal demon in the sack.

Do I love him?

***Y***

Yeah, I guess I do love him.

No.

I know I love him.

Real love. Forever love.

And now I'm crying. So what? He's kissing my tears away, and his clever hands are moving over and across and down and...

Check in with you later, inner self, I have better things to do right now.


***Z***

Zzz's for the Zeppo. It's time for them. And for that skinny, bleached overgrown Dennis the Menace, Tigger on speed, hell on wheels and demon (in the sack) that I've got my arms wrapped around and his wrapped around me like a human-shaped teddy bear, purring away like a puma - dangerous, but willing - wanting - to be cuddled - by *me*.

My vampire.

Mine.

He's not going anywhere. I won't let him.

And he doesn't want to leave. Ever.

Wow.

Now how's that for a happy ending? You think?

~ Finis ~