Rating/Warnings: Adult. Sexual situations, language, violence, bondage, D/s, Angel is a bit dominant and sort of dickish.
Summary: Post-NFA. Still cold-phobic, Spike's road to recovery from centuries stuck in an ice hell hits a rocky note when his tormentor comes calling.
A/N: Unbeta'd. For my noel_of_spike
posting day. Sequel to my fic, Cold.
It's recommended you read that one, first.
Buffy woke up alone.
Momentarily confused, she squinted around the sunlit room. She shouldn't have been surprised, she knew.
She sighed and stretched, then slid from the bed and padded to the bathroom. She was glad she was alone in that respect – though they'd been dismissive of her concerns, it still felt weird to have a pair of vampires listen to your morning pee.
Minutes later, she'd put the coffee on in the kitchen. The vents near the sliding glass doors sent up streams of warmth. She stepped over to them and let the heat warm her cold toes as she scanned the outside.
The sun had just peered through the tops of the trees surrounding the house. Light gleamed across trembling spider webs and tendrils of mist rose up from the dew-soaked deck. She tracked the progress of a squirrel as it climbed to the edge of a branch and then carefully launched itself to another on a neighboring tree, then immediately paused to furiously clean its fluffy tail.
Except for the gentle hum of the heater, the house was quiet. If not for her Slayer senses, she'd never know she was sharing the house with a pair of powerful vampires.
Willow had found the house for them, after the months it had taken to coax Spike to leave the cabin in Colorado. Willow had also put up wards and, with Xander's help, replaced the windows and doors with necro-tempered glass.
They were back in California, nestled up in the redwoods of Eureka Canyon. The area was free of most human neighbors – for a couple miles, at least. It was chilly in the mornings, but it didn't take long for things to heat up. She would need to turn down the thermostat soon – the air conditioning in the house was nonexistent, and she didn't want to encourage the heat to remain any longer than need be, especially if it was going to be another scorcher. Someone hadn't given this area the memo that winter was just around the corner, and just the other day the temperatures had been high enough for her to take a dip in the pool. She'd almost been tempted to call Willow to ask if she had decided to make an exception to the Coven's no-weather-tampering rule.
The coffee maker beeped at her. As she went to grab a mug, she heard movement upstairs, and low, muffled voices. The shower started a few moments later. By the time she'd settled down at the dining room table, footsteps were coming down the stairs.
Angel tried unsuccessfully to smooth down his bedhead as he stepped off the staircase, dressed only in black silk pajama pants. He looked strong, the muscles in his body more pronounced, his eyes bright and alert. She wondered if it was from the recent Slayer blood supplementation.
He smiled a little when he saw her, before his expression faded back into its usual broodiness-tinged-with-sorrow. “Hey.”
“Sorry I woke you,” Buffy said. She nodded to the coffee pot. “It's a caffeinated pick-me-up kind of morning.”
Angel shook his head. “I was already awake.”
He pulled two mugs from the cupboard and then grabbed a pair of blood bags from the fridge. Buffy watched the way his muscles flexed beneath his tattoo, and felt a sudden spear of want. If she hadn't been so tired, she might have chased the feeling, and followed up on it. But she didn't dare have sex with Angel, not one on one, just the two of them. Spike always needed to be there to keep Angel's soul grounded, to make sure he didn't reach that peak of perfect happiness.
“Bad night, huh?” she asked. “How's Spike?”
He turned, and she could see a hunger on his face, for more than just blood. He'd smelled her arousal. Thankfully, he didn't comment on it. “He's... twitchy.”
If Spike was being twitchy enough that Angel noticed, that meant something was really bothering the younger vampire. Or was he the older vampire, now? Angel and Spike had both had stints in hells, where time ran differently to the good old earth clock. The exact age of each was up in the air.
Angel set the timer on the microwave. “I think the fight with the arashnok demon spooked him.”
Buffy thought back to the giant creature – skin like a reptile, the legs of a spider and the head of a creepy goblin. The long, slimy tongue hadn't been very fun, either. Or the gross webbing. Each of them had been hit by it at least once. Trapped in a cave with the demon, it had taken nearly a day for the three of them to take it down. That had been four days ago, and most of their injuries had healed.
The fight had energized her and Angel, but Spike had been uninterested in sex for a while, now. So, they'd let him be.
Buffy felt disappointment seep in. “He'd been doing pretty well.”
Angel's frown was deep. “He's trying to force himself better, but he's been having more frequent nightmares. Last night was just the first time I was able to convince him to let me stay.”
The guilt Buffy felt at her lack of realization of Spike's pain twinged in the back of her mind. “Maybe he'd be more receptive if you stopped running hot and cold on him all the time.”
The microwave dinged. Angel grabbed the mugs with suddenly tense movements. “I'm making sure he doesn't act like an idiot. One of us has to control him until he gets through this.”
Buffy raised her eyebrows. “You sure it's not the whole control thing that's making him act out?”
“It's Spike, Buffy. He'd act out no matter what.”
Buffy had her doubts. It seemed a lot more likely that Angel was trying to control Spike out of some sort of jealousy thing. But she couldn't deny that it had been harsh treatment that had finally brought him back to life when he'd been rescued. And it wasn't as if the history between her and Spike had been exactly violence-free.
It had been a year, but neither of them had worked all the kinks out of their odd three-way relationship. But if Spike ever became really distressed, she wouldn't have any problem telling Angel where he could stick it. Likewise, if Spike became too much of an asshole towards Angel in front of her, she'd happily confront him on it. There was a point where hundreds of years trapped in a hell dimension stopped being an excuse, especially if it continually escalated things to the point of unnecessary physical harm.
As for herself, she felt guilty that she hadn't even stirred when Angel had left the bed the night before. The arashnok had been the first demon she'd actually fought in a long time, and she'd been exhausted after the post-fight high had faded.
There had been other demons they'd faced before it, but she'd stayed back to let Spike slowly get integrated into demon fighting again. Angel as back up had been enough, and she'd offered her blood if their injuries were ever particularly bad.
The shower upstairs shut off. Angel muttered something about wet towels as he headed back to Spike's room. Their conversation apparently done for now, Buffy moved to the sliding glass doors, intending to open them to see just how warm it was outside.
She was surprised at the chill that greeted her. Buffy scowled as her breath puffed out white on the air. It felt like it was freezing out, and her feet instantly went numb. It seemed like the weather had finally fast-forwarded to its actual season.
The deck was dry enough, so she stepped out onto it in and closed the glass doors. She moved over to the stairs that lead down to the pool, intending to check the giant thermometer set by the poolside and then scurry back inside where it was warm.
What she saw made her pause. “What the hell?”
Instead of gently rippling liquid, there was a glossy sheen to its surface. The pool was frozen over.
Spike nearly sputtered out blood onto the carpet at the words. Only by sheer force of will was he able to force down the mouthful. He turned away from the large windows that took up most of the wall on that side of the room. “Odd phrase, coming from you.”
Angel's large arms were folded across his bare chest and he stared at Spike with a gaze that was clearly disapproving. “I just thought I'd let you know, since your involvement dictates whether or not we have sex.” Oh, and now there was the undeniable undercurrent of frustration to add to that, as well.
Spike exhaled. He couldn't deny that the thought of Buffy's lust perked his interest. But as they'd neared another winter, the strength of his usual desires had wilted. He didn't know if it had to do with the drop in temperature, or the upcoming anniversary of the end of his centuries of torment, or a combination of the two. It was part of the reason he'd finally become eager enough to leave the cabin in Colorado. He didn't think he could bear another stint in a land of blizzards.
Spike downed the rest of his blood, but the last mouthful was hard to swallow. “Right then,” he said, and tried to shove himself into the proper mindset. “Where would you like me, sire?” Had to ensure his keepers stayed happy, after all. As much as the thought of the cold tormented, the thought of not having Buffy and Angel beside him was much worse.
Angel took a step closer, and his large hand clamped onto the side of Spike's neck. Lips descended, an unspoken thank you. Then they traced over Spike's jaw and whispered into his ear. “Go to her. Downstairs. I'll be waiting.”
Spike obeyed, but he didn't find Buffy. She wasn't in her bedroom, or the adjacent training room. Spike moved back to the kitchen – there was a chill on the air. He ground his teeth as he realized that things were finally going to be venturing down to freezing temperatures. “She's not here,” he finally called.
Angel's footsteps stamped down the stairs, his thunderous brow creased. “Where did she go?”
“Dunno. But it looks bloody cold outside.” Spike instinctively took a step back from the doors, and hated the sour fear that started within him. He could see frost on the deck.
Angel stared with narrowed eyes. “That wasn't there earlier. The temperature must have plummeted.” He moved back towards Buffy's room. “There's thick cloud cover. I'll get dressed and go look for her. She probably just went for a walk.”
Spike had to force himself to remain downstairs. He deeply dreaded the rush of air that would follow Angel's exit. “Didn't hear the front door shut,” Spike said. “She must have gone out back.”
Angel's coat brushed Spike's skin as he passed. He slid open the door. Spike flinched as the cold hit him, but did not retreat.
“Her scent's fresh,” Angel said. “I won't be long.”
Spike swallowed hard and shuddered all over, then ran a hand through his still damp hair. Whether or not Buffy was up for it, any desire he'd felt had been chased away, and he knew he would be hard pressed to regain it.
Buffy couldn't breathe. A hand gloved in silver was clenched about her throat. Eyes of dark blue stared up at her. “I'm looking for something that belongs to me.”
She was thrown into a nearby tree, and she heard a crack as she impacted. For a moment, she was afraid the sound had been from her back, but shards of ice fell around her when she hit the white ground. Buffy pushed herself up on shivering limbs and stared up at frost-covered trees. The woman that had attacked her stared expectantly, clearly uncaring about the cold. She balanced easily on the ice in silver high heels, most of her body exposed to the air. A silver bag hung from her shoulder.
“Maybe you know him,” the woman went on. “Pretty thing with blond hair. He screams deliciously, and makes these cute little tired whimpers when he runs out of strength. Oh, and that cock! I could ride that for days.”
Spike. She was talking about Spike. Buffy pushed herself up and tried to ignore the pain as the ice stung her bare feet. “Who are you?”
The woman put her gloved hands on her hips, where a belt of silver and jewels jingled at her waist, just barely covering her privates. “You may call me Miss Glacie, honey. I am the proprietar of a little corner hell dimension.” Her blue lips pursed into a pout. “My property was stolen from me.”
A hell dimension. This woman had been Spike's tormentor, or at least one of them.
“Wait,” Buffy said. “Wouldn't time run differently in a hell dimension?”
Glacie's cool surety faltered momentarily, before it slid back in to place. She adjusted the crown on her head. “So, you're certainly in the know. To answer your question, yes. It's been a few centuries, for me, since I've seen my little vampire.”
“Then why wait so long to come? Why would you need him at all?” Buffy was stalling for time until she could figure out a plan of attack or escape. If she could get Glacie's guard down in thinking she was cooperative, all the better.
“You can't rush these things. And I knew I would be coming for him eventually.” Suddenly, Glacie's head whipped to the side, and her long white hair swished across her shoulders. She laughed. “Oh, ho! It looks like there's another scrumptious morsel coming up the hill.” She pulled the glove from one hand to reveal perfectly manicured nails with white tips. “I can't wait to get my hands on this one.”
Buffy saw her chance and darted away as fast as her feet could take her. Angel's eyes widened as she raced towards him. “Run,” she ordered. “Get back into the house!”
Suddenly, something solid gripped about Buffy's foot. She fell forward, and cried out as her ankle savagely twisted. The agony that followed in her foot sent a wild grimace to her face, and she desperately reached for whatever held her, only to receive the same sensation in her hands as she made contact. She jerked her hands away with a hiss, and when she looked she saw clear ice wrapped about her foot. A line of it trailed from her foot across the dirt, to where Glacie had her bare hand pressed into the ground.
“Buffy!” Angel was at her side, and he wrenched at the ice in an attempt to free her, even as he growled in pain with every touch.
Through the burning needles that seemed to be digging into her flesh, Buffy realized that this was what Spike had been bound in when they'd found him the year before. God, he must have been in agony!
A hand grasped at Angel's shoulder, and he immediately bowed forward as he yelled out in pain. Shocks of frost crackled over his black coat, as Glacie shoved him to his knees in front of her. “Now that was a lovely display of spirit. You're both so sturdy. Oh, I could play with you for a good long while back home. But I'm afraid I'm only allowed one toy.” She crouched down beside Angel and grasped his face with her still-gloved hand. “You must be Angel. Sometimes he cried out your name, you know, during the times I allowed him to sleep.” She directed a smirk at Buffy. “Yours too.”
Buffy's cheeks were numb with cold, but she felt her face stretch as her expression turned murderous. She wrenched again and there was a crack as her leg came free, the end of a scream on her lips. She stood with difficulty as her foot seared with pain.
Glacie's eyes glinted with excitement. “Oh, goodie. You're definitely a Slayer, which means I'm in the right place. Is he holed up in that cute little house down there?”
Angel writhed against the hand on his shoulder. “Buffy...” He could say no more as a band of ice tightened into his neck.
“Hush, now,” Glacie said. “I'm talking.” She took her hands from Angel, who choked and pulled at the ice in vain. She batted snow-covered eyelashes as she stepped around his slumped form.
Buffy panted and shivered, and took a shaky step back as Glacie approached. “You, on the other hand – I think you'll scream prettily. I bet he'd come running right out, wouldn't he? Don't worry, I've coaxed these clouds to stay for a while.”
Buffy knew she wouldn't be able to run on her damaged foot, but she wasn't going to allow Spike to be sacrificed back into the hell from which he'd been saved.
Buffy swallowed hard. “Take me,” she said. “And you can have me scream all you want.”
Angel made a louder choked noise at the words.
“Oh, I'd love
to, honey. But I'm afraid I have a commitment. I could have still taken about another few centuries of use out of Spike before I passed him aside. Still...” Glacie reached down and pulled free a few of the white jewels from her silver slip. She tossed them over Buffy's head, and where they landed, frosted pillars rose towards the sky.
Her path back to the house was blocked. Glacie's heels clacked against the icy ground. “Maybe I can get a few hours of fun out of you before I take him back.”
When the first cry echoed around the forest, Spike rushed to the window that was over the sink. The sky was filled with dark gray clouds, and shadows spread across the garden. Far up the hill, he could see a span of white that stretched across the ground, like a circle of snow had fallen through the trees.
Another cry sounded, high and pained. Spike immediately rushed for his clothes – the special set he'd worn in Colorado, which had been specially be-spelled by Willow to stay warm. He pulled them on, and grabbed a sword from the closet. He hoped whatever beastie was out there was taking as good as it gave. The sliding glass door near the kitchen had splotches of ice crystals dotted across its surface. Spike took a deep breath and grasped it, then viciously pulled it open. The cold slammed into him like a physical blow, and he nearly staggered under the weight of his fear.
“Bloody suck it up, you nancy,” he snarled, and rushed out. He tried to think beyond the anxiety that would have had him in a mad scramble to return inside.
Spike leaped onto the fencing around the deck and descended to the perimeter of the property. Ice had ghosted over the garden.
Buffy's scream rent the air. Spike vamped and charged towards the sound. The familiar laughter that followed nearly had him frozen in shock. Bloody hell...
The awful change in weather suddenly made much more sense.
Spike gripped his sword more tight and rushed the rest of the way up the hill. He moved through the trees, and eventually was met by a wall of ice. He could hear muffled sounds of pain on the other side.
“You're going to have to come around, baby,” a voice said.
Spike growled low in his throat and circled the wall until he found the opening. Angel was collapsed on the ground, his coat spread about him and held fast by ice that gripped the leather's edges. A collar of ice reddened the flesh of his throat, as he gagged and tried to suck in air.
Glacie, the Ice Cunt, stood near Angel. Behind her, Buffy was suspended above the ground and bound to the wall of ice by her wrists. The Slayer's teeth were bared and her eyes shut tight, and she shook violently with cold.
Glacie put her hands on her hips. “Look at you, all fanged up, darling. You remember how patient I can be? I have your friends in my grasp, and you can take as long as you want before you decide to hand yourself over for their sakes. Although, this one might not last too long.” Glacie pressed her hand into the wall and Buffy cried out as more bands of ice drifted beneath her shirt.
Spike snarled loudly. “Put her down, bitch.”
A smug smile formed on blue lips. “When you surrender, baby.”
His sword swing was met with an upraised arm and the thick shield of ice that formed over it. Spike wrenched his weapon back.
“Spike, run!” Buffy said.
In the face of Angel and Buffy's pain, Spike's fear of the cold took a back seat to the desire to rend their tormentor to pieces. “Sorry, love.” He swung again, and Glacie reached out to grasp at the sword. A block of ice formed in her fist and wrapped about the blade, and she wrenched downwards.
Spike released it and ducked down. Glacie grabbed at the hilt with a bare hand, and then her face suddenly pinched in pain. “Ow!” She dropped the sword.
Spike stared in confusion for a moment, before realization dawned. He removed a glove, and clenched his exposed hand as his skin quickly chilled. When Glacie looked up at him, he threw the glove at her face.
It was as if he'd thrown a boulder at her head. She jerked back with a howl, her hands going to her nose. “Oh, you bastard!”
Spike stepped forward at the same time a tendril of ice slithered beneath his pant leg and clamped about his ankle. He cried out in shocked pain as his legs buckled and he fell.
Glacie glared, a hot red spot in the middle of her face. “Well, now I'm just going to kill them whether you surrender or not.”
Spike roared and jerked. He grasped at the ice with his heat-magicked glove and clenched hard. It crumbled beneath his hand.
Time seemed to slow as Spike turned to face Glacie, who stared in surprise at the now-free vampire. Then a fierce rage filled him, and he leaped at the bitch. In one quick movement he whipped off his jacket and wrapped the leather over her face and upper body.
Glacie's screech filled the air, and she fell to the ground. Spike held tight as she thrashed. Steam rose into the air, even as frost formed over his flesh and spread and cracked. Glacie's struggles waned and faded away.
So did the rest of her, in fact. Spike felt something damp brush his leg, and then the body beneath the coat flattened until he was prone on the ground. Hesitantly, he pushed himself to his knees, and pulled the coat aside. Nothing but Glacie's silver outfit and shoes and purse remained. The rest had been turned into a puddle of water.
Spike shoved away from his damp coat, then immediately set about attempting to free Buffy and Angel.
Buffy shivered at the kitchen table, a thick robe wrapped tightly around her body. When they'd returned to the house, and looked over their wounds, she'd taken a shower as hot as the water would go. After a few hours of rest, the pain was beginning to fade. But the numbing feeling remained in her limbs, especially her foot. She'd never had burns from ice, but she hoped her body would take care of them in the same way it did all her other injuries.
Eventually, she decided to get moving again. Keeping still only seemed to increase the lingering feel of the chill. Angel was upstairs with Spike, at her suggestion. She didn't know how Spike was going to react to the return of the woman who'd tortured him for hundreds of years. She only knew she was giddy with relief that Glacie hadn't taken him back.
She carefully took the steps, and winced with every tug at her burns. She heard the bed creaks and the low growls as she ascended. The door to the upstairs bedroom was shut, and there was a grunt followed by the clink of chains.
Buffy turned the doorknob, thankful when it opened. Angel's muscular back greeted her, as he moved rhythmically against the body beneath him. Spike was on his back, his wrists encased in bright red leather and cuffed to the headboard. Angel was in vamp face, his teeth worrying at the side of Spike's neck.
Spike's lips twitched and he tugged at the cuffs. Angel growled and bit harder.
At the sight, Buffy felt a shudder burst pleasurably through her body.
Angel jerked his head up, and she heard the crunch as he slid out of vampire face. Buffy couldn't help the relief she felt at its disappearance.
Brown eyes turned to her. There was blood on Angel's lips, and there was an angry red ring of raw skin around his neck. “Buffy.”
Spike clenched his hands into fists. “Well, don't just bloody lie there, you nonce.”
Angel clamped his hand over Spike's lips and ignored the irritated muffled protest.
“It was going to be a Christmas present,” Angel explained.
Buffy raised her eyebrows. “A Christmas present?”
“Yeah. Spike agreed to let me order some stuff... we were going to wait for Christmas to show you, but after today, he needed to unwind.”
Angel took his hand from Spike's mouth and reached up for the cuffs, which he unbound from the headboard. Then he pulled back. “Turn over,” he ordered. “It's her turn.”
Buffy took a step forward. “It's okay, you don't need to –”
Spike grabbed the cuffs from Angel. “Give them to her, you greedy sod.”
Angel frowned. “Greedy? Hey!”
Spike bucked against Angel's larger body until the larger vampire moved off. “It's her
Spike rose from the bed, his body bared and covered in healing freeze marks. His erection bounced against the hard planes of his belly. He approached her, his blue eyes wide. “I suppose today I finally figured out you can get some proper demon-killing use out of me.”
“You saved my life,” Buffy said. “'Useful' is a bit of an understatement.”
Spike's lips curved. He presented her with the cuffs. Holly decorations colored the surface. “Bitch thought she owned me,” Spike said. “But now I've got my mojo back, finally.”
Buffy couldn't hide the feeling of anticipation this gave her. Injuries aside, she was more than ready to start having sex again.
“There's a gag, too,” Angel supplied. “But that's more for me.”
Spike rolled his eyes.
Buffy stared up at Spike, then grasped the back of his head and pulled him down for a voracious kiss. She panted as they drew apart. “Sorry, Angel, you'll have to wait your turn. Spike, turn around.”
Spike smirked and obeyed. He crossed his wrists behind him, and she strapped on the bright red cuffs. Then she grabbed Spike's arm and drew him to the bed, where she lowered herself onto her back. She pulled him with her, and helped balance him when he fumbled awkwardly with his legs. Spike didn't wait for an order – as soon as Buffy parted her robe he lowered his head and bit at the corner of her pink lace panties. He pulled them down and almost immediately buried his face between her legs and lapped at her exposed clit with quick darts of his tongue.
Buffy gasped and grasped the blankets, and rested her thighs over Spike's pale shoulders to give him better access. Angel watched from the side of the bed, clearly enjoying the sight, before he moved to the closet to grab more supplies.
Spike took up a rhythm that made her squirm. He didn't pause, even when Angel mounted the bed with a bit of a mischievous look and grasped at Spike's biceps with his still-reddened hands. For a moment, Buffy wondered if Angel wasn't able to wait after all, but she heard a jingle as he removed his hands and reached beneath Spike.
Then she was beyond caring as whatever Angel did to Spike caused a burst of air to brush against her, followed by a particularly hard pressure as he licked her. Buffy exhaled harshly as she was brought to completion, embarrassingly quickly.
It had been a while.
Spike raised his head and then jerked at his cuffs and tried to squirm away, his breath coming in panicked spurts. Angel pressed down on the back of his neck to hold him still. “Bloody – Angel! I said no!”
Something jingled, and she looked up to see Angel release the back of Spike's neck to fold a wide red belt over the smaller vampire's hips. He strapped it tight, while Spike unsuccessfully strained and tried to shake free. The jingling noise continued, and then grew louder when Angel pulled Spike up to his knees.
Buffy couldn't help the giggle of surprise as she saw the red cockring bound at the base of Spike's shaft, and the small golden bells that adorned it. Spike looked furious, his gaze directed to the side and his jaw set.
“Come on, Spike,” Angel said, with humor. He reached down and jingled Spike's cock. “It's Christmas.”
“I look sodding ridiculous,” Spike complained.
Buffy sat up, the various aches and chills of her body now taking a second seat to the sweet lassitude that filled her. If previous history was any indication, she would be ready to go again in just a minute.
“I think you look hot,” she offered, and then kissed him.
Spike was still pouting, but he looked a little less humiliated when they drew apart. “Well, in that case – Angel gets one on the next shopping spree.”
The image made Buffy laugh in delight. “That's a promise.”
Angel bit at the side of Spike's pale neck with blunt teeth. Then he spoke, with no small amount of sarcasm. “Thanks for that, William.”
Angel drew away and moved back to the closet. Buffy admired his muscular ass as he bent and rifled. She couldn't wait to be beneath him again.
“I'm taking my turn again, now, Buffy,” Angel said.
Buffy nodded and moved from the bed, to take up a vantage point on the chair beside the bed. Watching Angel with Spike had become a guilty pleasure of hers over the last year. It was really good that the two of them didn't mind the audience.
Angel clutched a bright red ball gag in his huge fist as he returned to the bed, and he clenched his other hand harshly in Spike's hair to tilt his head back. Spike gasped, but didn't protest, though his pale chest heaved as his breathing quickened. Angel shoved the gag between Spike's teeth and then released his hair to pull the straps tight behind his head.
Angel's voice went low, as he rested a hand possessively beneath Spike's chin. “You've been naughty, William.” He pushed Spike down onto his side on the bed, and held him there by the neck. “And I'm not planning on being nice.”
Spike moved downstairs with muscles that ached, but in a way he enjoyed. The frost burns were a mere annoyance, now. His cock was still trussed in the bloody jingle-belled cockring, but Angel had removed it and allowed him to come twice before reapplying it.
Now that they were done fucking in the aftermath of Glacie's return, Buffy was hungry. She hadn't had anything except coffee so far that day. And ironically, horrible showdown with the Ice Cunt aside, Buffy now had a craving for ice cream.
Spike gazed out into the garden, and frowned when he noted the frost had not melted, nor the clouds gone away. For a moment fear filled him, but he knew that if Glacie had still been alive, she would have torn the house apart looking for them by now.
Just to be sure, Spike turned on the television to check the weather. He sighed in relief when he saw freezing temperatures were forecast throughout the week. Just winter, then. Regular, miserable winter.
He eyed the sliding glass door. His vampire instincts told him the sun would be setting soon, but the heavy cloud cover from before was still present. Hesitantly, he moved over to the glass, and felt the chill waft onto him. He felt calm, the panic like a far echo in his mind.
He pulled open the door, just to be sure, and stepped out onto the deck. He stood there for a few minutes, and just let the cold assail him. It was unpleasant, but not nerve-wracking. It seemed that with Glacie's demise he'd thrown off most of the vestiges of his phobia.
It was hard to get much colder than a battle with an ice hell demon.
Spike exhaled with a shiver, but not from fear, not really.
Buffy's voice drifted down. “Spike? How's that ice cream coming?”
He stepped back inside to the warmth and shut the door. Then he gathered a bowl and the dessert, a fair amount of which he planned on smearing on Angel – and in his hair especially – as payback for the bloody cockring.
When he squirmed back between Buffy and Angel, he was met with squawks of surprise as his bare flesh touched theirs.
Angel practically bolted from the bed. “Jesus, Spike!”
Buffy stayed, and clamped her warm hand over his arm. “You're freezing!”
“S'fine, Buffy,” he said, though he felt quite chuffed. “It's just a bit of cold.”