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Bargaining
Authors Note: This is my first (posted) Buffy fic. Feedback is treasured. Big thanks to Kar for the beta job.
This story is a response to Shan's challenge (285), which supposes that Joyce survived the fifth season. In our first installment, Spike finds the recomposed Buffy and brings her home.
------------------
The vapid brunette on channel four was warning that a costumed gang was rampaging through Sunnydale, advising the citizenry to stay in their homes and assuring them blandly that the situation was under control.
It was clearly anything but.
The Hellions weren't as tough as they looked. Tasted like shit, but nice wheels. He parked one bike where he could find it later, pocketed the keys, and pointed the other in the direction of the screams.
He found the Scoobies running away from a pile of demon remains. Hard to believe they'd taken them out on their own, but Red was getting mighty powerful. Tara started to say something, but Willow grabbed her and they kept running right past him. He caught of glance of Xander's face; something had them all in a right state.
He cracked his neck to release the tension; no point getting upset over it. The Scoobies kept him in beer and blood and he kept watch over what was left of the Summers’ clan. Suited him just fine.
Summers.
That scent in the air, and he'd told her to stay with her mum. Girl was going to get herself slaughtered running about in the night. He wasn't sure Joyce could stand losing both of them. She was fragile enough with the cancer eating away at her and her oldest in the dirt.
When he recognized where she was headed, his fear doubled. Had the Hellions treed her in that creaking tower? Buggering fuck, why couldn't she stay put? If they hadn't killed her, he just might.
He was hallucinating. Something in the Hellion blood? Had to be.
On top of the tower was a tiny blonde phantom. He had never climbed a ladder so fast and when he reached the top she was already racing toward the edge. He caught at her waist and they both went down hard against the creaking scaffold. She screamed in frustration and tried to yank herself free, but he held fast until she calmed.
She lay panting beside him and pressed dirty, bleeding fists to her eyes.
"Both taken this fall once, Slayer. Let's not do it again."
She blinked up at him and after a long pause her eyes finally seemed to focus. When she spoke her voice was hoarse and shaky. "Is this hell?”
It had to be hell, this harsh place full of fire and fighting and shouting figures that looked like her friends. They'd made a mistake and now They'd corrected it, sent her to this place. She'd thought maybe she could get back if she jumped off the tower again, but they'd sent a demon to stop her, one that looked like her demon, to keep her from escaping.
"No, love," the thing that looked like Spike said, "not hell. Couldn't be hell, not with your mum in it, yeah? You're home, Buffy." She watched as the thing shook, seemingly overcome, like it might cry. "You're home," it whispered.
"Mom?" she asked carefully. "Mom's here?"
He sat up and reached out a hand to pull her up. "Come on, I'll take you to Joyce."
She let him guide her down from the tower and on to the bike. She clung to his jacket and tried to steel herself against the crashing loudness of the engine, the harsh sting of her hair whipping against her face. She followed him cautiously up the walk, certain it was some trick.
But no, there they were, incredibly loud but with soft warm arms that went tight around her. She could feel wet heat against her cheek, her tears or theirs and did it matter and she was home. It was true. She was home.
"Oh Buffy!" Dawn screamed and Buffy shuddered at the noise.
"Careful now, bit, don't startle her," Spike warned quietly. She felt the lights dim and she was able to open her eyes.
"Your poor hands," her mom whispered. "What happened to you?"
She just shook her head and let the three of them half-carry her to the couch.
"Dug herself out of her own grave," Spike told them. "Didn't you, Slayer?"
She nodded and looked away. "How long?" she croaked out.
He took one of her battered hands in his. "147 days. Would have been 148 today, but today doesn't count now, does it?"
It was hard to look at his smile, to look at her family brimming over with happiness. She leaned against her mother’s shoulder and relaxed. “Mommy,” she breathed out and it only hurt for a moment when her mother hugged her close. She was almost asleep when she realized they were asking her questions, and did she need anything.
"Shower," she husked.
Her mother helped her up the stairs, talking the whole time, so quickly she could barely process. She shed her funeral clothes, scrubbed herself until her skin was nearly numb, and wrapped herself in the soft robe on the hook. Her mom's robe. Big and puffy and smelling faintly of mother. Maybe she could just crawl into her mother's bed and sleep, but no, she could heard them downstairs, arguing.
"...didn't tell me. Should have told me."
"Tell me seeing her again wasn't the happiest moment of your whole pathetic existence."
"Willow did this? What if something goes wrong?"
"Nothing is going to go wrong. It worked."
"Magic. There's always consequences, you daft bint."
"Spike, don't leave."
"Was I just supposed to leave her there? In some hell dimension for all eternity? We had to get her out of there!"
"No more yelling! My daughter has been through hell, literally. I won't have any of you upsetting her...."
With a sigh she buttoned up Dawn’s pajama top and slipped the robe back over her. Mom had said something about her own clothes, but she hadn’t really heard. Her room was stripped. A few framed pictures still in their spots, but most of her things were gone. Four months. They’d been trying to move on.
Exiting her room, she saw Spike by the hallway window. He ushered her back into the humid bathroom and lifted her onto the counter. She held out her hands and let him wordlessly wrap them up. In the bright light it was obvious he’d been crying.
She slipped off the counter and grabbed at his arm to fight the sudden onrush of vertigo. In the mirror her frightened reflection snatched at the air. Maybe she shouldn’t be there in the glass either.
From the top of the stairs, she could hear the renewed arguing. "They're all waiting for you," he whispered.
She nodded and descended the stairs into the loving embrace of her friends.
This story is a response to Shan's challenge (285), which supposes that Joyce survived the fifth season. In our first installment, Spike finds the recomposed Buffy and brings her home.
------------------
The vapid brunette on channel four was warning that a costumed gang was rampaging through Sunnydale, advising the citizenry to stay in their homes and assuring them blandly that the situation was under control.
It was clearly anything but.
The Hellions weren't as tough as they looked. Tasted like shit, but nice wheels. He parked one bike where he could find it later, pocketed the keys, and pointed the other in the direction of the screams.
He found the Scoobies running away from a pile of demon remains. Hard to believe they'd taken them out on their own, but Red was getting mighty powerful. Tara started to say something, but Willow grabbed her and they kept running right past him. He caught of glance of Xander's face; something had them all in a right state.
He cracked his neck to release the tension; no point getting upset over it. The Scoobies kept him in beer and blood and he kept watch over what was left of the Summers’ clan. Suited him just fine.
Summers.
That scent in the air, and he'd told her to stay with her mum. Girl was going to get herself slaughtered running about in the night. He wasn't sure Joyce could stand losing both of them. She was fragile enough with the cancer eating away at her and her oldest in the dirt.
When he recognized where she was headed, his fear doubled. Had the Hellions treed her in that creaking tower? Buggering fuck, why couldn't she stay put? If they hadn't killed her, he just might.
He was hallucinating. Something in the Hellion blood? Had to be.
On top of the tower was a tiny blonde phantom. He had never climbed a ladder so fast and when he reached the top she was already racing toward the edge. He caught at her waist and they both went down hard against the creaking scaffold. She screamed in frustration and tried to yank herself free, but he held fast until she calmed.
She lay panting beside him and pressed dirty, bleeding fists to her eyes.
"Both taken this fall once, Slayer. Let's not do it again."
She blinked up at him and after a long pause her eyes finally seemed to focus. When she spoke her voice was hoarse and shaky. "Is this hell?”
It had to be hell, this harsh place full of fire and fighting and shouting figures that looked like her friends. They'd made a mistake and now They'd corrected it, sent her to this place. She'd thought maybe she could get back if she jumped off the tower again, but they'd sent a demon to stop her, one that looked like her demon, to keep her from escaping.
"No, love," the thing that looked like Spike said, "not hell. Couldn't be hell, not with your mum in it, yeah? You're home, Buffy." She watched as the thing shook, seemingly overcome, like it might cry. "You're home," it whispered.
"Mom?" she asked carefully. "Mom's here?"
He sat up and reached out a hand to pull her up. "Come on, I'll take you to Joyce."
She let him guide her down from the tower and on to the bike. She clung to his jacket and tried to steel herself against the crashing loudness of the engine, the harsh sting of her hair whipping against her face. She followed him cautiously up the walk, certain it was some trick.
But no, there they were, incredibly loud but with soft warm arms that went tight around her. She could feel wet heat against her cheek, her tears or theirs and did it matter and she was home. It was true. She was home.
"Oh Buffy!" Dawn screamed and Buffy shuddered at the noise.
"Careful now, bit, don't startle her," Spike warned quietly. She felt the lights dim and she was able to open her eyes.
"Your poor hands," her mom whispered. "What happened to you?"
She just shook her head and let the three of them half-carry her to the couch.
"Dug herself out of her own grave," Spike told them. "Didn't you, Slayer?"
She nodded and looked away. "How long?" she croaked out.
He took one of her battered hands in his. "147 days. Would have been 148 today, but today doesn't count now, does it?"
It was hard to look at his smile, to look at her family brimming over with happiness. She leaned against her mother’s shoulder and relaxed. “Mommy,” she breathed out and it only hurt for a moment when her mother hugged her close. She was almost asleep when she realized they were asking her questions, and did she need anything.
"Shower," she husked.
Her mother helped her up the stairs, talking the whole time, so quickly she could barely process. She shed her funeral clothes, scrubbed herself until her skin was nearly numb, and wrapped herself in the soft robe on the hook. Her mom's robe. Big and puffy and smelling faintly of mother. Maybe she could just crawl into her mother's bed and sleep, but no, she could heard them downstairs, arguing.
"...didn't tell me. Should have told me."
"Tell me seeing her again wasn't the happiest moment of your whole pathetic existence."
"Willow did this? What if something goes wrong?"
"Nothing is going to go wrong. It worked."
"Magic. There's always consequences, you daft bint."
"Spike, don't leave."
"Was I just supposed to leave her there? In some hell dimension for all eternity? We had to get her out of there!"
"No more yelling! My daughter has been through hell, literally. I won't have any of you upsetting her...."
With a sigh she buttoned up Dawn’s pajama top and slipped the robe back over her. Mom had said something about her own clothes, but she hadn’t really heard. Her room was stripped. A few framed pictures still in their spots, but most of her things were gone. Four months. They’d been trying to move on.
Exiting her room, she saw Spike by the hallway window. He ushered her back into the humid bathroom and lifted her onto the counter. She held out her hands and let him wordlessly wrap them up. In the bright light it was obvious he’d been crying.
She slipped off the counter and grabbed at his arm to fight the sudden onrush of vertigo. In the mirror her frightened reflection snatched at the air. Maybe she shouldn’t be there in the glass either.
From the top of the stairs, she could hear the renewed arguing. "They're all waiting for you," he whispered.
She nodded and descended the stairs into the loving embrace of her friends.
After Life
Author's Note: Thanks again to Kar for the beta job. I don't think I'll always be posting chapters so rapidly, but I had a few near ready when I decided it was time to take the plunge and post already.
I was also thrilled to see reviews! Please, keep the feedback coming.
In our second installment, Buffy makes with the true and false confessions, but are all the Scoobies buying it?
As noted in the summary, dialog may be familiar in the early chapters. There will be greater divergence from canon soon, I swear…
---------------
So much expected of her. To function like a normal adult. No crawling into her mother's bed at night or hiding in her room all day. No, time to pick up the sword again, and fight evil again, and shop and talk and bleed and live again.
She'd come back from Spike's crypt into a war zone. Maybe she would just go back there. It was cool and dark and he seemed happy to love at her from a distance instead of having to cuddle and coddle and pepper her with questions. She had her own questions. She missed Giles. Did he know she was back? Did her dad know? Did Angel? Did they even know she'd been gone?
She wanted answers. They wanted thanks, so she gave it to them.
"Look, you guys, um, there's this thing..." She faltered. " I'm just gonna say it. You brought me back. I was in a ... I was in hell. I, um, I can't think too much about what it was like. But it felt like the world abandoned me there. And then suddenly, you guys did what you did."
Tara looked so sincere in made her chest hurt. "It was Willow. She knew what to do."
"Okay. So you did that. And the world came rushing back. Thank you. You guys gave me the world." She had to stop to breath. It hurt so much, and it was so much work. "I can't tell you what it means to me. And I should have said it before."
Willow was near tears. "You're welcome."
"Welcome home, Buffy." Xander put one gentle hand on her shoulder and it became a group hug that she forced herself to endure.
He was waiting outside, of course. She got the impression he was never far away.
"Spike," she paused and tried to sound like a normal person. "It's daylight and you're-"
"Not on fire? Sun's low enough, shady enough here. I was gonna go inside, but I overheard you and the Superfriends exchanging a special moment, and I came over a bit queasy." He paused to take a drag. She watched the smoke curl up; weird to see him against the sunshine. "Say, aren't you leaving a hole in the middle of some soggy group hug?"
She shrugged. Why did he have to be right about everything? "Just wanted a little time alone." She saw him start up and waved him off. "That's okay. I can be alone with you here."
"Thanks ever so."
She ignored his tone. She so didn’t need his issues on top of her own. "Right."
"Buff-- Slayer? Are you okay?"
She sighed. She was getting tired of sighing. “I don’t have any clothes.”
He gave her the eyebrow. “I’ve had this dream before.”
The sound she made was something between a laugh and a snort. “I mean Mom gave my stuff to Goodwill. Except for like four outfits the robot picked out.”
He had the good grace to look a little embarrassed at that. She saw it again, the busted bot, pieces of herself scattered on the asphalt; her own vacant face staring up at her. And how weird that it had been with her family all summer, like some sort of ghost in cute boots making terrible puns with a dead girl's voice.
Sensing her change in mood, Spike called her name.
"I'm here." She kicked at a chunk of broken sidewalk. "I'm good."
"Buffy,” he went stammering on, “if you're in ... if you're in pain, or if you need anything, or if I can do anything for you..."
She wouldn't scream. It wasn't his fault. "You can't." Well, maybe he could. It would hurt, of course, all that electricity bursting through his brain, but then again her blood would heal him right up. But he’d never do it. Because he loved her.
And vampires who loved her could never give her the things she really wanted.
“What you said in there…” he trailed off and took a deep drag, like maybe he’d thought better of whatever he was going to ask her.
“What, Spike?”
“On the tower, you asked me if this was hell…”
She took a deep breath. He was asking for the truth, and for some reason she wanted to tell him. "I was happy,” she announced to the wall behind him. No way could she look at him and keep her voice calm. “Wherever I was, I was happy. At peace. I knew that everyone I cared about was all right. I knew it. Time ... didn't mean anything, nothing had form, but I was still me, you know? And I was warm and I was loved and I was finished. Complete." She shivered from the memory.
"I don't understand about theology or dimensions, or ... any of it, really. But I think I was in heaven. And now I'm not. I was torn out of there. Pulled out. By my friends. Everything here is ... hard, and bright, and violent. Everything I feel, everything I touch. This is Hell. Just getting through the next moment, and the one after that ... knowing what I've lost..."
She walked into the sunlight where he couldn't follow. She didn't dare look back. "They can never know. Never."
----------
His brain hurt.
Buffy was back, and she was okay. They’d gotten her out of hell, and she was okay.
Only she didn’t seem okay. She didn’t really seem happy either. You’d think a person would be thrilled, or at least relieved, to be back from hell. They should be having a celebratory pizza or whooping it up at the Bronze over beers. Instead she’d made her big announcement and then disappeared.
Nobody else seemed bothered. Anya was riffling through receipts, and Willow and Tara were flipping through some spell book and flirting at each other like it was just another day. At least until Willow mentioned a forgetting spell, an idea Tara wasn’t too keen on. Him either.
He found himself looking at Willow and wondering when they’d stopped being best buds. Did he even know her anymore? The blood and the snakes; what had that all been about? And he hated – really, really hated – to have to actually consider that Spike might have said something worth hearing, let alone agree with the guy. But, had Willow known what could happen? And if she didn’t know, was that worse? After all, bringing someone back from the dead? Thorough research would seem to be called for.
Anya was changing on him too. His frugal sweetheart was suddenly determined to throw away their savings on one big lace-covered, champagne-soaked day. Couldn’t they just go to Vegas? And was she serious about D’Hofryn giving her away?
Spike was lounging in the alley when he brought the trash out. He thought about making some crack about how the trash was already there, but Spike looked like he might have been crying which was freaksome, so he kept his mouth shut.
“Slayer went home,” Spike informed him.
He wiped his hands on his thighs and studied the sunlight. He needed to get to the job site. But maybe he should blow it off and go find Buffy. Or maybe if she'd wanted to talk, she wouldn't have left the place where her talking buddies were assembled. The giving of space seemed to be called for.
“Did she seem okay to you?”
Spike gave him a look long. “Not really, no.”
And again with the Spike agreement.
His brain really hurt.
I was also thrilled to see reviews! Please, keep the feedback coming.
In our second installment, Buffy makes with the true and false confessions, but are all the Scoobies buying it?
As noted in the summary, dialog may be familiar in the early chapters. There will be greater divergence from canon soon, I swear…
---------------
So much expected of her. To function like a normal adult. No crawling into her mother's bed at night or hiding in her room all day. No, time to pick up the sword again, and fight evil again, and shop and talk and bleed and live again.
She'd come back from Spike's crypt into a war zone. Maybe she would just go back there. It was cool and dark and he seemed happy to love at her from a distance instead of having to cuddle and coddle and pepper her with questions. She had her own questions. She missed Giles. Did he know she was back? Did her dad know? Did Angel? Did they even know she'd been gone?
She wanted answers. They wanted thanks, so she gave it to them.
"Look, you guys, um, there's this thing..." She faltered. " I'm just gonna say it. You brought me back. I was in a ... I was in hell. I, um, I can't think too much about what it was like. But it felt like the world abandoned me there. And then suddenly, you guys did what you did."
Tara looked so sincere in made her chest hurt. "It was Willow. She knew what to do."
"Okay. So you did that. And the world came rushing back. Thank you. You guys gave me the world." She had to stop to breath. It hurt so much, and it was so much work. "I can't tell you what it means to me. And I should have said it before."
Willow was near tears. "You're welcome."
"Welcome home, Buffy." Xander put one gentle hand on her shoulder and it became a group hug that she forced herself to endure.
He was waiting outside, of course. She got the impression he was never far away.
"Spike," she paused and tried to sound like a normal person. "It's daylight and you're-"
"Not on fire? Sun's low enough, shady enough here. I was gonna go inside, but I overheard you and the Superfriends exchanging a special moment, and I came over a bit queasy." He paused to take a drag. She watched the smoke curl up; weird to see him against the sunshine. "Say, aren't you leaving a hole in the middle of some soggy group hug?"
She shrugged. Why did he have to be right about everything? "Just wanted a little time alone." She saw him start up and waved him off. "That's okay. I can be alone with you here."
"Thanks ever so."
She ignored his tone. She so didn’t need his issues on top of her own. "Right."
"Buff-- Slayer? Are you okay?"
She sighed. She was getting tired of sighing. “I don’t have any clothes.”
He gave her the eyebrow. “I’ve had this dream before.”
The sound she made was something between a laugh and a snort. “I mean Mom gave my stuff to Goodwill. Except for like four outfits the robot picked out.”
He had the good grace to look a little embarrassed at that. She saw it again, the busted bot, pieces of herself scattered on the asphalt; her own vacant face staring up at her. And how weird that it had been with her family all summer, like some sort of ghost in cute boots making terrible puns with a dead girl's voice.
Sensing her change in mood, Spike called her name.
"I'm here." She kicked at a chunk of broken sidewalk. "I'm good."
"Buffy,” he went stammering on, “if you're in ... if you're in pain, or if you need anything, or if I can do anything for you..."
She wouldn't scream. It wasn't his fault. "You can't." Well, maybe he could. It would hurt, of course, all that electricity bursting through his brain, but then again her blood would heal him right up. But he’d never do it. Because he loved her.
And vampires who loved her could never give her the things she really wanted.
“What you said in there…” he trailed off and took a deep drag, like maybe he’d thought better of whatever he was going to ask her.
“What, Spike?”
“On the tower, you asked me if this was hell…”
She took a deep breath. He was asking for the truth, and for some reason she wanted to tell him. "I was happy,” she announced to the wall behind him. No way could she look at him and keep her voice calm. “Wherever I was, I was happy. At peace. I knew that everyone I cared about was all right. I knew it. Time ... didn't mean anything, nothing had form, but I was still me, you know? And I was warm and I was loved and I was finished. Complete." She shivered from the memory.
"I don't understand about theology or dimensions, or ... any of it, really. But I think I was in heaven. And now I'm not. I was torn out of there. Pulled out. By my friends. Everything here is ... hard, and bright, and violent. Everything I feel, everything I touch. This is Hell. Just getting through the next moment, and the one after that ... knowing what I've lost..."
She walked into the sunlight where he couldn't follow. She didn't dare look back. "They can never know. Never."
----------
His brain hurt.
Buffy was back, and she was okay. They’d gotten her out of hell, and she was okay.
Only she didn’t seem okay. She didn’t really seem happy either. You’d think a person would be thrilled, or at least relieved, to be back from hell. They should be having a celebratory pizza or whooping it up at the Bronze over beers. Instead she’d made her big announcement and then disappeared.
Nobody else seemed bothered. Anya was riffling through receipts, and Willow and Tara were flipping through some spell book and flirting at each other like it was just another day. At least until Willow mentioned a forgetting spell, an idea Tara wasn’t too keen on. Him either.
He found himself looking at Willow and wondering when they’d stopped being best buds. Did he even know her anymore? The blood and the snakes; what had that all been about? And he hated – really, really hated – to have to actually consider that Spike might have said something worth hearing, let alone agree with the guy. But, had Willow known what could happen? And if she didn’t know, was that worse? After all, bringing someone back from the dead? Thorough research would seem to be called for.
Anya was changing on him too. His frugal sweetheart was suddenly determined to throw away their savings on one big lace-covered, champagne-soaked day. Couldn’t they just go to Vegas? And was she serious about D’Hofryn giving her away?
Spike was lounging in the alley when he brought the trash out. He thought about making some crack about how the trash was already there, but Spike looked like he might have been crying which was freaksome, so he kept his mouth shut.
“Slayer went home,” Spike informed him.
He wiped his hands on his thighs and studied the sunlight. He needed to get to the job site. But maybe he should blow it off and go find Buffy. Or maybe if she'd wanted to talk, she wouldn't have left the place where her talking buddies were assembled. The giving of space seemed to be called for.
“Did she seem okay to you?”
Spike gave him a look long. “Not really, no.”
And again with the Spike agreement.
His brain really hurt.
Flooded
Author’s Note: Kar continues to rock the beta job. Thank you all for the great comments. It makes me thrilled that I decided to get posty at last, and grateful to Shan for the challenge to get me jump-started. I’m glad people are enjoying the take on Xander. It drove me crazy when he went from Mr. Observant to Mr. Oblivious. I also think there are other ways to deal with Willow’s magic problem than the ‘magic is crack’ metaphor, but you’ll have to wait for future installments…
In our third installment Giles returns to Sunnydale, Spike gives Buffy a present, and Willow reflects.
As noted in the summary, dialog may be familiar in the early chapters.
---------------
Life was returning to normal, Sunnydale normal anyway. And Giles was back; and she needed him back, needed him to anchor her. She couldn't be the slayer without him anymore. She’d thought he could make it better, take some of the pressure off. Instead he was just like everyone else, either tip-toeing around her or interrogating her. She sort of knew what he was doing. He’d done it before when she’d come back from L.A, coming at her sideways to get her to confess about Angel.
Maybe she should call Angel, but she’d never even gotten around to finding out if he knew she’d been dead. And ringing him up to say, ‘Hey, I’m alive, thought you should know,’ would sound really bitchy out of context. Besides she’d been busy dealing with the fact that Mom’s cancer had spread while she was gone and that she was going to need to start getting chemo treatments.
Giles was going to help with the driving. She kinda hoped Giles would help with a lot of things. Right now she really needed his help figuring out why an M'Fashnik demon was all over her. And maybe a cookie. Stupid Dawn.
But he and Willow were yelling, shouting horrible things at each other. The smoldering cigarette butt on the porch floor was stupidly relieving. She stamped it out and gave him a resigned but friendly, "Hello, Spike."
He stepped out of the shadows and grinned at her, then frowned. "You hear all that noise?"
She nodded. "Just enough to make me feel crappy."
"You know watcher-boy doesn't mean anything by it."
"I guess. Everyone ... they all care. They all care so much; it ... makes it all harder."
"I'm not sure I followed you around that bend, love".
"I don't know. I just, I feel like I'm spending all of my time trying to be okay, so they don't worry. It's exhausting. And then, I..."
"And that makes 'em worry even more."
She nodded. It freaked her out a little that he understood. Maybe it came from all the stalking.
"You want me to take them out?" he offered. "Give me a hell of a headache, but I could probably thin the herd a little."
She gave a smile, and it pleased him. She shouldn't care about pleasing him. "Knew I could get a grin."
They sat on the porch stairs. She remembered being there with him before, the night she found out about Mom. She remembered his arm around her shoulders while she cried. At the time it had wigged her. Now she kinda wished he would do it again. "Why are you always around when I'm miserable?"
"Cause that's when you're alone, I reckon. I'm not one for crowds myself these days."
Crowds. It seemed like she was always being crowded, all these loving people butting up against her. All their gushing emotions. "Me neither."
He smiled at her; he had such a nice smile. "That works out nicely then."
Something fizzy started happening in her stomach. It really wasn’t fair that he could look like that. "Mom's sick again," she blurted.
"I heard. Bit says the doctors aren’t worried." He petted her shoulder awkwardly and then folded his hands back in his lap.
She sighed. "This is so hard."
"Right. I can go then."
She shook her head, squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and then looked out at the night again. She should probably patrol. Track down the demon that was haunting her. She was still the Slayer. Or the Slayer again. Either way, she was Patrol Girl. "No, not you," she muttered. "You're not hard."
"Well, that's not entirely--"
"Ew, Spike," she cut him off, but she had to smile at his teasing tone.
“Got something for you,” he changed the subject abruptly. He produced some keys from his pocket and jingled them a few times before tossing them to her.
She caught them and scratched the metal skull key ring with a nail. “To match my engagement ring?” she queried wryly. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Came into a few motorcycles. Thought you might fancy one…” He cocked his head at her. “You still have the ring?”
“What are the other keys for?” she asked, ignoring his question.
He shrugged and put on his ‘I am a badass’ face. “Didn’t get a chance to ask the previous owner before I ripped out his spine.”
Her face fell. Who was the previous owner? What was the previous owner? “You…” she fumbled for how to ask. “When did you--”
“Night you came back. You saw the biker demons.” he rushed out. With a grin he suggested, “Could call it a rebirth day present.”
Internally she heaved a sigh or relief, but only let him see an eye roll. “I have no idea how to drive a motorcycle,” she informed him archly. It could be cool though. She could roar across Sunnydale, crossbow on her back. Skid to a stop to take aim at some fierce demon. Like some comic book heroine come to life. Plus it would be a good a great excuse for new boots. And jackets. Helmet hair was a big minus though.
“I could teach you,” he offered. He was trying to play it cool, like this wasn’t an obvious attempt to set up regular together time. It was actually kinda cute. And therefore a very bad idea.
She pocketed the keys anyway. “Yeah. Ok. Maybe.” He watched as she very deliberately reached out and placed a hand over his. “Thanks.”
Spike turned his palm and squeezed her hand, then let it go quickly. Nervousness radiated off him and she really didn’t want the moment to get heavy. "Come on." She bumped his shoulder with hers. "Let's go kill something."
----------
Isis, what was everyone’s problem? Tara’s hands fluttered like a startled moth every time she pulled a book off the shelf with a chant instead of getting up. So, floating kisses were okay, but floating books were naughty?
And Giles, all angry and doooooooom about the whole thing, like she didn’t know what she was doing? Okay, so maybe she hadn’t looked too closely at the consequences, and okay making a demon wasn’t exactly in the white witch handbook, but she was trying to get her friend out of hell, which, by the way, had worked. So why couldn’t everybody just chill?
Buffy seemed chill. Buffy was chilly, in fact, which was not of the good. Willow had to admit it was a wee bit worrisome how Buffy was all quiet and mopey, but hello, hell, trauma? That kind of thing didn’t just go away overnight. Unless you did a forgetting spell, but that had gone over like a lead balloon. She was just trying to help.
So Giles thought she was ‘damaged’? Willow tried to coax some wires to un-fray in the robot’s torso, but nothing doing. This was the damaged Buffy. Flesh and blood Buffy was just fine, and if she wasn’t, Willow would find a way to repair it.
-------
The crazy pace of posting may slow down a little from here. I'm really loving the feedback; please keep it coming.
In our third installment Giles returns to Sunnydale, Spike gives Buffy a present, and Willow reflects.
As noted in the summary, dialog may be familiar in the early chapters.
---------------
Life was returning to normal, Sunnydale normal anyway. And Giles was back; and she needed him back, needed him to anchor her. She couldn't be the slayer without him anymore. She’d thought he could make it better, take some of the pressure off. Instead he was just like everyone else, either tip-toeing around her or interrogating her. She sort of knew what he was doing. He’d done it before when she’d come back from L.A, coming at her sideways to get her to confess about Angel.
Maybe she should call Angel, but she’d never even gotten around to finding out if he knew she’d been dead. And ringing him up to say, ‘Hey, I’m alive, thought you should know,’ would sound really bitchy out of context. Besides she’d been busy dealing with the fact that Mom’s cancer had spread while she was gone and that she was going to need to start getting chemo treatments.
Giles was going to help with the driving. She kinda hoped Giles would help with a lot of things. Right now she really needed his help figuring out why an M'Fashnik demon was all over her. And maybe a cookie. Stupid Dawn.
But he and Willow were yelling, shouting horrible things at each other. The smoldering cigarette butt on the porch floor was stupidly relieving. She stamped it out and gave him a resigned but friendly, "Hello, Spike."
He stepped out of the shadows and grinned at her, then frowned. "You hear all that noise?"
She nodded. "Just enough to make me feel crappy."
"You know watcher-boy doesn't mean anything by it."
"I guess. Everyone ... they all care. They all care so much; it ... makes it all harder."
"I'm not sure I followed you around that bend, love".
"I don't know. I just, I feel like I'm spending all of my time trying to be okay, so they don't worry. It's exhausting. And then, I..."
"And that makes 'em worry even more."
She nodded. It freaked her out a little that he understood. Maybe it came from all the stalking.
"You want me to take them out?" he offered. "Give me a hell of a headache, but I could probably thin the herd a little."
She gave a smile, and it pleased him. She shouldn't care about pleasing him. "Knew I could get a grin."
They sat on the porch stairs. She remembered being there with him before, the night she found out about Mom. She remembered his arm around her shoulders while she cried. At the time it had wigged her. Now she kinda wished he would do it again. "Why are you always around when I'm miserable?"
"Cause that's when you're alone, I reckon. I'm not one for crowds myself these days."
Crowds. It seemed like she was always being crowded, all these loving people butting up against her. All their gushing emotions. "Me neither."
He smiled at her; he had such a nice smile. "That works out nicely then."
Something fizzy started happening in her stomach. It really wasn’t fair that he could look like that. "Mom's sick again," she blurted.
"I heard. Bit says the doctors aren’t worried." He petted her shoulder awkwardly and then folded his hands back in his lap.
She sighed. "This is so hard."
"Right. I can go then."
She shook her head, squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and then looked out at the night again. She should probably patrol. Track down the demon that was haunting her. She was still the Slayer. Or the Slayer again. Either way, she was Patrol Girl. "No, not you," she muttered. "You're not hard."
"Well, that's not entirely--"
"Ew, Spike," she cut him off, but she had to smile at his teasing tone.
“Got something for you,” he changed the subject abruptly. He produced some keys from his pocket and jingled them a few times before tossing them to her.
She caught them and scratched the metal skull key ring with a nail. “To match my engagement ring?” she queried wryly. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Came into a few motorcycles. Thought you might fancy one…” He cocked his head at her. “You still have the ring?”
“What are the other keys for?” she asked, ignoring his question.
He shrugged and put on his ‘I am a badass’ face. “Didn’t get a chance to ask the previous owner before I ripped out his spine.”
Her face fell. Who was the previous owner? What was the previous owner? “You…” she fumbled for how to ask. “When did you--”
“Night you came back. You saw the biker demons.” he rushed out. With a grin he suggested, “Could call it a rebirth day present.”
Internally she heaved a sigh or relief, but only let him see an eye roll. “I have no idea how to drive a motorcycle,” she informed him archly. It could be cool though. She could roar across Sunnydale, crossbow on her back. Skid to a stop to take aim at some fierce demon. Like some comic book heroine come to life. Plus it would be a good a great excuse for new boots. And jackets. Helmet hair was a big minus though.
“I could teach you,” he offered. He was trying to play it cool, like this wasn’t an obvious attempt to set up regular together time. It was actually kinda cute. And therefore a very bad idea.
She pocketed the keys anyway. “Yeah. Ok. Maybe.” He watched as she very deliberately reached out and placed a hand over his. “Thanks.”
Spike turned his palm and squeezed her hand, then let it go quickly. Nervousness radiated off him and she really didn’t want the moment to get heavy. "Come on." She bumped his shoulder with hers. "Let's go kill something."
----------
Isis, what was everyone’s problem? Tara’s hands fluttered like a startled moth every time she pulled a book off the shelf with a chant instead of getting up. So, floating kisses were okay, but floating books were naughty?
And Giles, all angry and doooooooom about the whole thing, like she didn’t know what she was doing? Okay, so maybe she hadn’t looked too closely at the consequences, and okay making a demon wasn’t exactly in the white witch handbook, but she was trying to get her friend out of hell, which, by the way, had worked. So why couldn’t everybody just chill?
Buffy seemed chill. Buffy was chilly, in fact, which was not of the good. Willow had to admit it was a wee bit worrisome how Buffy was all quiet and mopey, but hello, hell, trauma? That kind of thing didn’t just go away overnight. Unless you did a forgetting spell, but that had gone over like a lead balloon. She was just trying to help.
So Giles thought she was ‘damaged’? Willow tried to coax some wires to un-fray in the robot’s torso, but nothing doing. This was the damaged Buffy. Flesh and blood Buffy was just fine, and if she wasn’t, Willow would find a way to repair it.
-------
The crazy pace of posting may slow down a little from here. I'm really loving the feedback; please keep it coming.
Life Serial
Author’s Notes: Thanks again to Kar for beta and youall for the comments. I realize I said that updates would be slowing down, and they will after this. I was keeping this one in reserve, but decided to go ahead and post even though five isn’t quite ready yet.
In our fourth installment, Buffy has a bad day, Spike has a nice evening, and Joyce has a plan.
--------
Buffy glanced back at the trashed construction site. Vince and the others picked up debris, muttering things she was kinda glad she couldn't hear in her general direction. So much for Day-Labor-Buffy. Her day was going from bad to worse. "I didn't imagine this, Xander."
"I know," he reassured her. "I believe you. In fact, I'm starting to think between this attack and the school thing that somebody's messing with you."
She wrinkled her nose. "Popular pastime lately."
He put a big warm Xander hand on her shoulder. "Would you like to explain that? Because I'd really like to know what's going on with you."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Xander, I'm fine. I'll just get Giles on it. It's no big."
He shook his head. "I'm pretty sure there's a big. You're just not telling me what it is."
It was tempting, it really was, to put her head on his shoulder and unload on him, but she couldn't do that. It was her duty to protect people, especially her friends, even from themselves. No way was she going to break Xander's big heart by telling him what they'd done to her. After all, it had been her heart once, too.
So she fudged, just a little. "Mom's sick, Dawn's in a permanent snit at me, and seeing Angel...." Seeing Angel had given her a stomach ache, but at least the skeptical look left Xander's face. Of course Xander would buy Angel as an excuse for trouble in Buffy-world. It certainly wasn't without precedent. "I guess I've just got a lot on my mind."
"Harris!" Tony bellowed. "Those guys hang that drywall wrong and it's your ass!"
"Go," she ordered gently. "I'll see you at the ‘Box later." She gave him a big smile and backed away quickly before he could protest.
She had hoped Giles would help her look up the melting demons right away, but the shop was bustling, and instead he handed her a 'trainee' badge. And her day just kept on gettin’ better.
---------------------------
They were all completely off their nuts. Did they really think it would help, forcing her to pretend to be a normal girl? She’d not been a normal girl for years and now even less so.
She’d been a particular state after coming back from her trek to Los Angeles. They’d gotten three blocks from the house when the M’Fashnik crossed their path, and then he’d ended up following her to the Espresso Pump for a latte and a celebratory stack of cookies. She’d been sailing along on a sugar high until she got home to find she’d missed a phone call from Angel. So of course she’d gotten all solemn and gone rushing off to see him and come back sad-faced and defeated.
Not the most propitious time to embark on a new career.
He was just dumb enough to be glad of being her confessor. Just besotted enough not to care that she was only out with him because he didn’t count. She was there, and it was enough.
He guided her stumbling body back toward the house as she muttered on under her breath. Only person I can even stand to be around, she’d called him earlier. Should he be glad of being deemed a person? Christ, she made his head hurt. Her own head was going to be beastly sore in the morning.
“… thought it would help, but she seems to have clammed up even more. She wouldn’t even tell me where she was going tonight, just ‘out’, the way she used to when she was sixteen.”
Joyce and Rupert, having a little summit on Buffy. He stopped walking. Buffy slumped against the tree and slid down on her bum.
“We’ve no idea what’s she’s been through, and she’s clearly traumatized.”
“Believe me, I’ve tried talking to her.”
“So have I. She’s not terribly forthcoming.”
“I don’t think she can talk about it.”
The Slayer lurched up and ambled toward the porch before he could stop her. “I’m fine!” she screamed at them. “Maybe everyone could just let me alone to be fine, and quit telling me what to do with my life because I think I’ve had plenty of other people messing around with my life thanks, and oh! Spinning!”
He reached out to catch her as she pitched forward and looked up to see the two of them staring down at them with matching looks of supreme disappointment.
“Oh, Buffy,” Joyce sighed.
“Lecture later,” Buffy muttered.
“Buffy, this is really--”
“Lecture later,” the Slayer insisted. “Or I’m going home with Spike.”
He willed them to open their mouths, but they seemed to have taken her seriously. He readjusted his grip and helped her up the stairs. “Come on, Slayer.” He coaxed her into drinking some water and then deposited her on the bed.
“You were right,” she sighed. “That was kinda fun.”
He grinned down at her and she grinned back.
“I’m going to pay for this tomorrow, right?”
He chuckled at her. “Yeah.”
“Spike?” Her tone was serious. He braced for a rejection the whole time as he lowered himself to sit next to her on the bed. Huge eyes and furrowed brow. “I can’t tell them.”
“Go to sleep, Slayer.”
She nodded and curled up atop her bed clothes. “You can go out the window, if you want to avoid the parentals.”
“Good plan,” he acknowledged.
He smoothed back her hair and got a tired smile before letting himself out. She’d had a good time. With him.
Now it was time to find out who was messing with his girl.
------
Sometimes they seemed to forget, all of them, that she’d known her daughter longer than any of them. It took a lot of effort to smother a laugh when she saw the look on Spike’s face when he realized his getaway wasn’t going to be clean.
“Joyce.”
Oh, he was going to play it cool. A nod, followed by patting his jacket down for cigarettes, then lighting up and leaning back against the tree.
“Look Spike, I really appreciate everything you did for us this summer—“
“Right,” he cut her off. “So this would be the ‘stay away from my daughter’ speech then?”
Joyce sighed. “Somehow I don’t think that would have much affect,” she admitted. For better or worse, he wasn't Angel and she wasn't even going to try to run him off. Besides, Buffy needed someone to watch her back, at least until she got back on her feet. And Spike was certainly willing to watch her back. It was the amount of attention he paid the rest of her that worried Joyce.
She watched him waiting for her to go on. It was so hard to get a read on him. How old was he? Well, old, she knew that. At the moment though, he seemed like a nervous teenager, all jumpy but full of swagger.
"Buffy talks to you," she pointed out. "There's something she isn't telling me, isn't there? Something she's told you."
He looked so nervous that she knew it was true. "I can't--"
"I'm not asking you to," she assured him. "I just needed to know. Goodnight, Spike." She left him to contemplate his smoke and went up to check on her daughters.
Dawn was snoring softly, gangly legs tangled in her bedspread. Buffy was staring at Mr. Gordo in the dark. "Sweetie?"
"Hi Mom."
"Can I get you anything?"
"No."
There was so much misery in her daughter's voice. She took a seat on the bed and pushed a few damp strands of hair off her daughter's wet face. She felt Buffy's shoulders hitch under her hand. "Buffy, if there's anything you want to tell me..."
Buffy pushed herself up and scrubbed at her face. "I'm not supposed to be here," she sputtered out.
Joyce gave her arm a squeeze. "Oh, Buffy."
"I can't go back," she sniffed.
"No, of course not, baby. No one's going to send you back to that place."
At this, Buffy's tears began again and she sobbed against her mother's shoulder. Joyce gathered her in close and rocked her until she could feel her slump against her neck, asleep.
She rubbed her daughter's back gently, the way she had when Buffy was a child and would wake up with nightmares. She'd been tempted to do the same a few times with the robot, who had looked so much like Buffy. Finally, she had told Willow to either move it to the basement or she and Tara could take it back to their dorm room, but she wasn't letting it sleep in her dead daughter's bed anymore.
The real, living Buffy felt hot under her hand. Maybe they had pushed her too hard, urging her into a new routine when she was still reeling from her resurrection, but sitting at home all day staring at the walls wasn't healthy either. And Buffy was keeping something from her.
Her head throbbed. The doctors swore the shots and pills were working, but she was dubious. She needed some relaxation and so did Buffy. Halloween was coming up, the official Slayer's Night Off. Maybe they could hit the spa, come home all refreshed and spend the night watching old movies. Maybe she'd even relax enough to tell her mother just what was going on with her.
And if it didn't work, at least she'd have a fresh manicure at the end of the day. It was important to look on the bright side. For one thing, it was a lot less cluttered.
In our fourth installment, Buffy has a bad day, Spike has a nice evening, and Joyce has a plan.
--------
Buffy glanced back at the trashed construction site. Vince and the others picked up debris, muttering things she was kinda glad she couldn't hear in her general direction. So much for Day-Labor-Buffy. Her day was going from bad to worse. "I didn't imagine this, Xander."
"I know," he reassured her. "I believe you. In fact, I'm starting to think between this attack and the school thing that somebody's messing with you."
She wrinkled her nose. "Popular pastime lately."
He put a big warm Xander hand on her shoulder. "Would you like to explain that? Because I'd really like to know what's going on with you."
She narrowed her eyes at him. "Xander, I'm fine. I'll just get Giles on it. It's no big."
He shook his head. "I'm pretty sure there's a big. You're just not telling me what it is."
It was tempting, it really was, to put her head on his shoulder and unload on him, but she couldn't do that. It was her duty to protect people, especially her friends, even from themselves. No way was she going to break Xander's big heart by telling him what they'd done to her. After all, it had been her heart once, too.
So she fudged, just a little. "Mom's sick, Dawn's in a permanent snit at me, and seeing Angel...." Seeing Angel had given her a stomach ache, but at least the skeptical look left Xander's face. Of course Xander would buy Angel as an excuse for trouble in Buffy-world. It certainly wasn't without precedent. "I guess I've just got a lot on my mind."
"Harris!" Tony bellowed. "Those guys hang that drywall wrong and it's your ass!"
"Go," she ordered gently. "I'll see you at the ‘Box later." She gave him a big smile and backed away quickly before he could protest.
She had hoped Giles would help her look up the melting demons right away, but the shop was bustling, and instead he handed her a 'trainee' badge. And her day just kept on gettin’ better.
---------------------------
They were all completely off their nuts. Did they really think it would help, forcing her to pretend to be a normal girl? She’d not been a normal girl for years and now even less so.
She’d been a particular state after coming back from her trek to Los Angeles. They’d gotten three blocks from the house when the M’Fashnik crossed their path, and then he’d ended up following her to the Espresso Pump for a latte and a celebratory stack of cookies. She’d been sailing along on a sugar high until she got home to find she’d missed a phone call from Angel. So of course she’d gotten all solemn and gone rushing off to see him and come back sad-faced and defeated.
Not the most propitious time to embark on a new career.
He was just dumb enough to be glad of being her confessor. Just besotted enough not to care that she was only out with him because he didn’t count. She was there, and it was enough.
He guided her stumbling body back toward the house as she muttered on under her breath. Only person I can even stand to be around, she’d called him earlier. Should he be glad of being deemed a person? Christ, she made his head hurt. Her own head was going to be beastly sore in the morning.
“… thought it would help, but she seems to have clammed up even more. She wouldn’t even tell me where she was going tonight, just ‘out’, the way she used to when she was sixteen.”
Joyce and Rupert, having a little summit on Buffy. He stopped walking. Buffy slumped against the tree and slid down on her bum.
“We’ve no idea what’s she’s been through, and she’s clearly traumatized.”
“Believe me, I’ve tried talking to her.”
“So have I. She’s not terribly forthcoming.”
“I don’t think she can talk about it.”
The Slayer lurched up and ambled toward the porch before he could stop her. “I’m fine!” she screamed at them. “Maybe everyone could just let me alone to be fine, and quit telling me what to do with my life because I think I’ve had plenty of other people messing around with my life thanks, and oh! Spinning!”
He reached out to catch her as she pitched forward and looked up to see the two of them staring down at them with matching looks of supreme disappointment.
“Oh, Buffy,” Joyce sighed.
“Lecture later,” Buffy muttered.
“Buffy, this is really--”
“Lecture later,” the Slayer insisted. “Or I’m going home with Spike.”
He willed them to open their mouths, but they seemed to have taken her seriously. He readjusted his grip and helped her up the stairs. “Come on, Slayer.” He coaxed her into drinking some water and then deposited her on the bed.
“You were right,” she sighed. “That was kinda fun.”
He grinned down at her and she grinned back.
“I’m going to pay for this tomorrow, right?”
He chuckled at her. “Yeah.”
“Spike?” Her tone was serious. He braced for a rejection the whole time as he lowered himself to sit next to her on the bed. Huge eyes and furrowed brow. “I can’t tell them.”
“Go to sleep, Slayer.”
She nodded and curled up atop her bed clothes. “You can go out the window, if you want to avoid the parentals.”
“Good plan,” he acknowledged.
He smoothed back her hair and got a tired smile before letting himself out. She’d had a good time. With him.
Now it was time to find out who was messing with his girl.
------
Sometimes they seemed to forget, all of them, that she’d known her daughter longer than any of them. It took a lot of effort to smother a laugh when she saw the look on Spike’s face when he realized his getaway wasn’t going to be clean.
“Joyce.”
Oh, he was going to play it cool. A nod, followed by patting his jacket down for cigarettes, then lighting up and leaning back against the tree.
“Look Spike, I really appreciate everything you did for us this summer—“
“Right,” he cut her off. “So this would be the ‘stay away from my daughter’ speech then?”
Joyce sighed. “Somehow I don’t think that would have much affect,” she admitted. For better or worse, he wasn't Angel and she wasn't even going to try to run him off. Besides, Buffy needed someone to watch her back, at least until she got back on her feet. And Spike was certainly willing to watch her back. It was the amount of attention he paid the rest of her that worried Joyce.
She watched him waiting for her to go on. It was so hard to get a read on him. How old was he? Well, old, she knew that. At the moment though, he seemed like a nervous teenager, all jumpy but full of swagger.
"Buffy talks to you," she pointed out. "There's something she isn't telling me, isn't there? Something she's told you."
He looked so nervous that she knew it was true. "I can't--"
"I'm not asking you to," she assured him. "I just needed to know. Goodnight, Spike." She left him to contemplate his smoke and went up to check on her daughters.
Dawn was snoring softly, gangly legs tangled in her bedspread. Buffy was staring at Mr. Gordo in the dark. "Sweetie?"
"Hi Mom."
"Can I get you anything?"
"No."
There was so much misery in her daughter's voice. She took a seat on the bed and pushed a few damp strands of hair off her daughter's wet face. She felt Buffy's shoulders hitch under her hand. "Buffy, if there's anything you want to tell me..."
Buffy pushed herself up and scrubbed at her face. "I'm not supposed to be here," she sputtered out.
Joyce gave her arm a squeeze. "Oh, Buffy."
"I can't go back," she sniffed.
"No, of course not, baby. No one's going to send you back to that place."
At this, Buffy's tears began again and she sobbed against her mother's shoulder. Joyce gathered her in close and rocked her until she could feel her slump against her neck, asleep.
She rubbed her daughter's back gently, the way she had when Buffy was a child and would wake up with nightmares. She'd been tempted to do the same a few times with the robot, who had looked so much like Buffy. Finally, she had told Willow to either move it to the basement or she and Tara could take it back to their dorm room, but she wasn't letting it sleep in her dead daughter's bed anymore.
The real, living Buffy felt hot under her hand. Maybe they had pushed her too hard, urging her into a new routine when she was still reeling from her resurrection, but sitting at home all day staring at the walls wasn't healthy either. And Buffy was keeping something from her.
Her head throbbed. The doctors swore the shots and pills were working, but she was dubious. She needed some relaxation and so did Buffy. Halloween was coming up, the official Slayer's Night Off. Maybe they could hit the spa, come home all refreshed and spend the night watching old movies. Maybe she'd even relax enough to tell her mother just what was going on with her.
And if it didn't work, at least she'd have a fresh manicure at the end of the day. It was important to look on the bright side. For one thing, it was a lot less cluttered.
All the Way
Author’s Notes: Thanks again to Kar for the beta job. This was a tougher chapter, longer and pretty much all mine. I also added an entire Joyce POV section to my first draft, in big part because of the positive responses to Joyce from chapter four, so big big thanks for all the feedback.
In our fifth installment, Spike and Buffy celebrate Halloween, Joyce ruminates, and Dawn gets busted.
----------------------
Chapter Five: All the Way
She practically floated into the crypt, sloe-eyed and smelling like a muffin of some sort. Dressed like Little Red Riding Hood. She gave him quite possibly the nicest smile he had ever received before flopping down on his couch and producing a bottle of Jameson from her basket.
Apparently, whatever he'd snagged at the Magic Box earlier had not been Burba Weed after all. It was something much better, and he was going to have to get more of it.
"Come on, just take it already," she said in a light tone. "I didn't even make you say trick or treat. Do I have to make some stupid ‘what big teeth you have’ crack first?"
"What's this for?" he finally managed. He brushed his fingers along hers when he took the bottle. She felt real enough.
"I am a teensy bit fuzzy on the details, but I kinda think I owe you a drink or twelve."
"Want to help me kill this bottle as well?" he asked, cracking it open and taking a swig. Much better quality than the rotgut he usually imbibed. Irish got a few things right.
She made a face. "No thanks. I'm loopy enough from the spa." She played the remote he'd abandoned to let her in, as she'd astonished him by knocking for once. "How do you get cable down here?"
"Spa?" he prompted.
"Yeah, Mom and me. Spent the day getting pampered and sugar-scrubbed and slathered with lotions, and having special moments over flavored coffee."
"So that's why you smell like some sort of tart." The couch pillow bounced harmlessly off his cheek. He caught it and tossed it back to her. "Did your special moments include any deep confessions?"
She made a face. "We were having a nice time, Spike. Why would I want to go and ruin it?"
He joined her on the couch and swiped the remote, took another swig. He wasn't looking to ruin their nice time either, so he decided to let it alone. "We're missing the Great Pumpkin, Slayer."
“I felt like I was really me again,” she confessed in a barely audible voice.
If his heart could beat, it might have stopped at that. As it was, he felt a sharp pain in his chest and an intense urge to gather her up in his arms. Luckily, before he could do anything so mightily stupid, she firmly changed the topic. "Is this how you usually spend Halloween? I mean, when there's not a helpless Slayer running around blathering about marrying a baron."
At times, it really struck him how well and truly wrong the whole thing was. Only a few years ago he'd spent this night dizzy with the anticipation of feasting on her blood. Now he wanted to feast on... other things. Moments ago he’d been soggy with concern for her, but now his libido was kicking in fierce. The outfit wasn't helping. Too easy to imagine her commenting on what a big--
"Do have a yen for the helpless girly-girl costumes, don't you, Slayer?" He asked, willing his thoughts down another path.
"Oh, this?" She played with the skirt's hem in a most distracting manner. "Yeah, we were supposed to be Bronzing it tonight and Dawn had stolen this a couple of years back I guess. I found it in her closet, along with three of my favorite sweaters, and I'd be mad except that if she hadn't stolen them I wouldn't have them any more."
"So why aren't you?" Off her look he added, "Partying with the Scoobs?"
"Oh. So, it turned into an engagement party for Xander and Anya, which was.... anyway, then Tara and Willow had a fight about Willow decorating our table with magic. I mean, I don't get what the big is there, but on the other hand I get the impression Willow uses magic to brush her teeth any more."
Spike absorbed what she had said while Charlie Brown discovered a rock in his candy bag. "So you left the fete?"
Buffy pulled a fastener out of her hair and started teasing the braids apart. She was trying to kill him. "Tara and Willow bailed; Dawn had plans with Janice, and Anya's friend Hallie showed up so our party kinda fizzled out."
He decided to quit while he was ahead for once, and just sit and enjoy watching the movie with her. Wouldn't tempt fate quizzing her about why she'd dropped by, just be happy she had. Knew all too well who Hallie might be and wanted to stay far and away from that subject. By the time Linus and Charlie convened at the brick wall of lessons learned, her head had fallen back against the couch and she was clearly asleep.
The Slayer was asleep in his lair. There was a part of him, an increasingly ignored part that quailed that he -- William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers -- was now completely defanged. The greater part of him though was too busy preening at having gained her trust to care. Wished he could be more help to her. Usually when something so much as inconvenienced the Slayer, half the demon community was stepping up to take credit. This time, for all his investigating and intimidating, he’d no new information for her.
‘Course, he was a bit of a pariah in the demon community anymore; she was worth it. Her throat was exposed invitingly. Her skin was particularly dewy – the spa, he supposed. . Loosened from the braids, her hair was glossy and wavy. If he touched it, would she wake up and stake him?
The tinny sound of Ravel's Bolero interrupted the moment, however, as Buffy gasped awake to answer her phone. He could hear perfectly well that Dawn and Janice had pulled the classic double-cross, which the mums quickly figured out when one called the other.
"Great," Buffy muttered. "This is supposed to be my night off."
He donned his leather and grabbed his keys. "Got an idea where they might be," he told her.
----------------
Between the drug cocktail and the massage, she felt practically ethereal, like she was floating above the couch instead of sitting on it. She flipped through another of the books Rupert had given her. She’d read all the relevant passages a dozen times over, and it still wasn’t making sense to her. She scanned again Willow’s notes on the spell, Rupert’s journal entries about Angel’s hell dimension experience and Buffy’s brief trip into a hell to rescue street kids from slave labor. It still wasn’t telling her anything more about where her daughter had been, what sorts of things she might have been through.
Attempting to get her daughter to open up had been a lost cause, but at least Buffy had seemed to enjoy the day. Joyce had hoped they could spend the evening together as well, but Buffy’s friends had other plans and according to Dawn her sister had mentioned something about a gift for Spike.
Spike. Something was going on there, another thing her daughter wouldn’t talk about. She respected that Spike had become her daughter’s lieutenant, but it was impossible to forget that only a few years ago she’d had to bash him with an axe before he snapped Buffy’s neck. On the other hand he’d nearly died protecting Dawn, and his despair at the funeral had been clearly genuine. He couldn’t stand to see the body. But Spike’s feelings had also led him to do things like chain Buffy to a wall. Joyce was a little concerned.
The body.
She flipped to something in Rupert’s notes again. All these accounts of popping in and out of hell dimensions were distinctly physical; only a few footnotes in Rupert’s books about possible metaphysical hells. Angel got sucked bodily into hell; Buffy went through a door in the floor. Willow’s notes mentioned repeatedly how Buffy had jumped through a hellgate to save them and how it was imperative that they bring her back from where she had gone.
But Buffy hadn’t gone anywhere, hadn’t gone through anything. Her body had landed right there on the ground. They had cleaned her and dressed her and buried her privately so that the robot could keep alive the myth that the Slayer still walked the Hellmouth.
The realization struck her like a physical blow. Buffy’s body had been left behind while her spirit had gone elsewhere. All through the phone call from Janice’s mother and her own call to Buffy, the only possible conclusion rang through her head.
Her baby had been in heaven.
-------------------
Dawn felt unbelievably stupid, like her whole body must be blushing. And it just made it worse being caught by Spike and her sister. And now he was walking home with them, which meant he'd probably still be there when Buffy reported her to Mom, who would have plenty to add to Buffy’s rant. She hated getting yelled at in front of her friends.
As soon as the ambulance pulled away with Janice, who was thankfully more startled than hurt, Buffy started up. Pointed her toward the house and turned her dial to 'intense lecture mode'. Blah blah blah sneaking out, blah blah worrying Mom, blah blah vampires. She had snorted at that, told Buffy she was just trying to live up to her legacy, but Buffy just did that clueless 'Everything's different when it's me' thing she always did when she played the Slayer card.
Dawn rolled her eyes and pretty much ignored whatever else Buffy was saying. It was especially hard to pay attention to the 'vampires bad' part when Buffy and Spike were walking so close together she was surprised they didn’t trip over each other’s legs. She knew Spike was an exception, but still. And it wasn’t like she'd known the guy was a vamp.
Buffy pulled her to a stop just as Dawn was about to stomp inside and whispered that Mom didn't need to know all the details. Dawn felt almost limp with relief as she climbed the porch steps, leaving Buffy and Spike to set up their next motorcycle lesson or make out or kick box or whatever.
Dawn was prepared to see her mother's disappointment face. She was not prepared for seeing her mother sprawled between the couch and coffee table.
Neither was Buffy, who burst in behind her screaming 'Mommy' over and over in a way that made Dawn's own anxiety double. Buffy babbled something and shook their mother's limp body hard. In a blink, Spike was there shoving her sister away from Mom and yelling over Buffy's objections that Joyce was breathing and that rattling her like that wasn't helping.
Dawn felt her legs buckle and she slumped down next to her mother's head and grabbed one of her hands. Spike had a hold on Buffy with one arm and had managed to fish her cell phone out of her pocket. Over Buffy's hysterics he gave details to the 911 people.
Buffy just kept hammering on him and yelling and Dawn didn't think she'd ever seen her sister lose it like that. Either her strength was sapped or Spike was taking one hell of a beating, and she whatever she was saying was coming out too frantic to be understood. Finally Spike stopped trying to talk over her, made a face, and smacked her across the face. Hard.
And nothing happened.
Nothing but Buffy hitting the floor hard, along with their jaws. All three of them went completely still. Buffy pushed further away from him and Spike himself thumped down on the floor by the staircase. Thinking fast, Dawn heaved herself up and moved to kneel beside him.
"Hit me," she hissed. He looked at her as though she'd lost her mind. "Him me, you idiot!" she bellowed at him.
So it had been a better idea in theory than reality, she mused when her head stopped spinning. But on the plus side, Spike had grabbed his own head and shouted 'buggering fuck!' so loud she knew he wasn’t faking, and Dawn was pretty pleased with herself. That is until, just audible over the approaching sirens, she heard Buffy whimper "What am I now?"
The EMTs barged in before anyone could think of an answer.
--------
There may be some delay before the next post. For one thing, I may need to get 7 written before I can really finish 6. Also, the fabulous Kar is going on vacation, so I might have to seek out a temp beta (gamma?)
Putting in the chip reveal early was a tough decision. This is a roller-coaster chapter, but I needed Buffy down again for OMWF to work. Please keep the feedback coming.
In our fifth installment, Spike and Buffy celebrate Halloween, Joyce ruminates, and Dawn gets busted.
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Chapter Five: All the Way
She practically floated into the crypt, sloe-eyed and smelling like a muffin of some sort. Dressed like Little Red Riding Hood. She gave him quite possibly the nicest smile he had ever received before flopping down on his couch and producing a bottle of Jameson from her basket.
Apparently, whatever he'd snagged at the Magic Box earlier had not been Burba Weed after all. It was something much better, and he was going to have to get more of it.
"Come on, just take it already," she said in a light tone. "I didn't even make you say trick or treat. Do I have to make some stupid ‘what big teeth you have’ crack first?"
"What's this for?" he finally managed. He brushed his fingers along hers when he took the bottle. She felt real enough.
"I am a teensy bit fuzzy on the details, but I kinda think I owe you a drink or twelve."
"Want to help me kill this bottle as well?" he asked, cracking it open and taking a swig. Much better quality than the rotgut he usually imbibed. Irish got a few things right.
She made a face. "No thanks. I'm loopy enough from the spa." She played the remote he'd abandoned to let her in, as she'd astonished him by knocking for once. "How do you get cable down here?"
"Spa?" he prompted.
"Yeah, Mom and me. Spent the day getting pampered and sugar-scrubbed and slathered with lotions, and having special moments over flavored coffee."
"So that's why you smell like some sort of tart." The couch pillow bounced harmlessly off his cheek. He caught it and tossed it back to her. "Did your special moments include any deep confessions?"
She made a face. "We were having a nice time, Spike. Why would I want to go and ruin it?"
He joined her on the couch and swiped the remote, took another swig. He wasn't looking to ruin their nice time either, so he decided to let it alone. "We're missing the Great Pumpkin, Slayer."
“I felt like I was really me again,” she confessed in a barely audible voice.
If his heart could beat, it might have stopped at that. As it was, he felt a sharp pain in his chest and an intense urge to gather her up in his arms. Luckily, before he could do anything so mightily stupid, she firmly changed the topic. "Is this how you usually spend Halloween? I mean, when there's not a helpless Slayer running around blathering about marrying a baron."
At times, it really struck him how well and truly wrong the whole thing was. Only a few years ago he'd spent this night dizzy with the anticipation of feasting on her blood. Now he wanted to feast on... other things. Moments ago he’d been soggy with concern for her, but now his libido was kicking in fierce. The outfit wasn't helping. Too easy to imagine her commenting on what a big--
"Do have a yen for the helpless girly-girl costumes, don't you, Slayer?" He asked, willing his thoughts down another path.
"Oh, this?" She played with the skirt's hem in a most distracting manner. "Yeah, we were supposed to be Bronzing it tonight and Dawn had stolen this a couple of years back I guess. I found it in her closet, along with three of my favorite sweaters, and I'd be mad except that if she hadn't stolen them I wouldn't have them any more."
"So why aren't you?" Off her look he added, "Partying with the Scoobs?"
"Oh. So, it turned into an engagement party for Xander and Anya, which was.... anyway, then Tara and Willow had a fight about Willow decorating our table with magic. I mean, I don't get what the big is there, but on the other hand I get the impression Willow uses magic to brush her teeth any more."
Spike absorbed what she had said while Charlie Brown discovered a rock in his candy bag. "So you left the fete?"
Buffy pulled a fastener out of her hair and started teasing the braids apart. She was trying to kill him. "Tara and Willow bailed; Dawn had plans with Janice, and Anya's friend Hallie showed up so our party kinda fizzled out."
He decided to quit while he was ahead for once, and just sit and enjoy watching the movie with her. Wouldn't tempt fate quizzing her about why she'd dropped by, just be happy she had. Knew all too well who Hallie might be and wanted to stay far and away from that subject. By the time Linus and Charlie convened at the brick wall of lessons learned, her head had fallen back against the couch and she was clearly asleep.
The Slayer was asleep in his lair. There was a part of him, an increasingly ignored part that quailed that he -- William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers -- was now completely defanged. The greater part of him though was too busy preening at having gained her trust to care. Wished he could be more help to her. Usually when something so much as inconvenienced the Slayer, half the demon community was stepping up to take credit. This time, for all his investigating and intimidating, he’d no new information for her.
‘Course, he was a bit of a pariah in the demon community anymore; she was worth it. Her throat was exposed invitingly. Her skin was particularly dewy – the spa, he supposed. . Loosened from the braids, her hair was glossy and wavy. If he touched it, would she wake up and stake him?
The tinny sound of Ravel's Bolero interrupted the moment, however, as Buffy gasped awake to answer her phone. He could hear perfectly well that Dawn and Janice had pulled the classic double-cross, which the mums quickly figured out when one called the other.
"Great," Buffy muttered. "This is supposed to be my night off."
He donned his leather and grabbed his keys. "Got an idea where they might be," he told her.
----------------
Between the drug cocktail and the massage, she felt practically ethereal, like she was floating above the couch instead of sitting on it. She flipped through another of the books Rupert had given her. She’d read all the relevant passages a dozen times over, and it still wasn’t making sense to her. She scanned again Willow’s notes on the spell, Rupert’s journal entries about Angel’s hell dimension experience and Buffy’s brief trip into a hell to rescue street kids from slave labor. It still wasn’t telling her anything more about where her daughter had been, what sorts of things she might have been through.
Attempting to get her daughter to open up had been a lost cause, but at least Buffy had seemed to enjoy the day. Joyce had hoped they could spend the evening together as well, but Buffy’s friends had other plans and according to Dawn her sister had mentioned something about a gift for Spike.
Spike. Something was going on there, another thing her daughter wouldn’t talk about. She respected that Spike had become her daughter’s lieutenant, but it was impossible to forget that only a few years ago she’d had to bash him with an axe before he snapped Buffy’s neck. On the other hand he’d nearly died protecting Dawn, and his despair at the funeral had been clearly genuine. He couldn’t stand to see the body. But Spike’s feelings had also led him to do things like chain Buffy to a wall. Joyce was a little concerned.
The body.
She flipped to something in Rupert’s notes again. All these accounts of popping in and out of hell dimensions were distinctly physical; only a few footnotes in Rupert’s books about possible metaphysical hells. Angel got sucked bodily into hell; Buffy went through a door in the floor. Willow’s notes mentioned repeatedly how Buffy had jumped through a hellgate to save them and how it was imperative that they bring her back from where she had gone.
But Buffy hadn’t gone anywhere, hadn’t gone through anything. Her body had landed right there on the ground. They had cleaned her and dressed her and buried her privately so that the robot could keep alive the myth that the Slayer still walked the Hellmouth.
The realization struck her like a physical blow. Buffy’s body had been left behind while her spirit had gone elsewhere. All through the phone call from Janice’s mother and her own call to Buffy, the only possible conclusion rang through her head.
Her baby had been in heaven.
-------------------
Dawn felt unbelievably stupid, like her whole body must be blushing. And it just made it worse being caught by Spike and her sister. And now he was walking home with them, which meant he'd probably still be there when Buffy reported her to Mom, who would have plenty to add to Buffy’s rant. She hated getting yelled at in front of her friends.
As soon as the ambulance pulled away with Janice, who was thankfully more startled than hurt, Buffy started up. Pointed her toward the house and turned her dial to 'intense lecture mode'. Blah blah blah sneaking out, blah blah worrying Mom, blah blah vampires. She had snorted at that, told Buffy she was just trying to live up to her legacy, but Buffy just did that clueless 'Everything's different when it's me' thing she always did when she played the Slayer card.
Dawn rolled her eyes and pretty much ignored whatever else Buffy was saying. It was especially hard to pay attention to the 'vampires bad' part when Buffy and Spike were walking so close together she was surprised they didn’t trip over each other’s legs. She knew Spike was an exception, but still. And it wasn’t like she'd known the guy was a vamp.
Buffy pulled her to a stop just as Dawn was about to stomp inside and whispered that Mom didn't need to know all the details. Dawn felt almost limp with relief as she climbed the porch steps, leaving Buffy and Spike to set up their next motorcycle lesson or make out or kick box or whatever.
Dawn was prepared to see her mother's disappointment face. She was not prepared for seeing her mother sprawled between the couch and coffee table.
Neither was Buffy, who burst in behind her screaming 'Mommy' over and over in a way that made Dawn's own anxiety double. Buffy babbled something and shook their mother's limp body hard. In a blink, Spike was there shoving her sister away from Mom and yelling over Buffy's objections that Joyce was breathing and that rattling her like that wasn't helping.
Dawn felt her legs buckle and she slumped down next to her mother's head and grabbed one of her hands. Spike had a hold on Buffy with one arm and had managed to fish her cell phone out of her pocket. Over Buffy's hysterics he gave details to the 911 people.
Buffy just kept hammering on him and yelling and Dawn didn't think she'd ever seen her sister lose it like that. Either her strength was sapped or Spike was taking one hell of a beating, and she whatever she was saying was coming out too frantic to be understood. Finally Spike stopped trying to talk over her, made a face, and smacked her across the face. Hard.
And nothing happened.
Nothing but Buffy hitting the floor hard, along with their jaws. All three of them went completely still. Buffy pushed further away from him and Spike himself thumped down on the floor by the staircase. Thinking fast, Dawn heaved herself up and moved to kneel beside him.
"Hit me," she hissed. He looked at her as though she'd lost her mind. "Him me, you idiot!" she bellowed at him.
So it had been a better idea in theory than reality, she mused when her head stopped spinning. But on the plus side, Spike had grabbed his own head and shouted 'buggering fuck!' so loud she knew he wasn’t faking, and Dawn was pretty pleased with herself. That is until, just audible over the approaching sirens, she heard Buffy whimper "What am I now?"
The EMTs barged in before anyone could think of an answer.
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There may be some delay before the next post. For one thing, I may need to get 7 written before I can really finish 6. Also, the fabulous Kar is going on vacation, so I might have to seek out a temp beta (gamma?)
Putting in the chip reveal early was a tough decision. This is a roller-coaster chapter, but I needed Buffy down again for OMWF to work. Please keep the feedback coming.
Once More With Feeling
Author's Notes: Thanks to Zanthinegirl girl for giving this a look-over while Kar's away. This chapter is all original, bookending the action of the episode. There are some differences from canon that aren't exposed until the next chapter, which is mostly ready and will hopefully be posted soon.
ETA: A few little fixes now that Kar's had a chance to look it over.
In our sixth installment Buffy thinks, Spike drinks, and Anya poses a question.
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Mom was going to be okay.
Buffy kept reminding herself of that. Her mother was going to be fine. She’d just fainted due to the medication and stress of going back to work so soon and the doctors wanted to keep her under observation for a few days while they worked out a better treatment strategy. In the meantime Buffy had been assured repeatedly that everything was hunky-dory. Because that was what fainting spells meant, right? Everything was super.
Mom was on to her, too. When she’d woken up the first thing she’d done was grab Buffy and pull her close and whisper, ‘Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry.’ And, Buffy knew she knew. Since then she had avoided being alone with her mother if at all possible. Being in the room when Spike made his calls, coming up from the sewers so as not to miss visiting hours, was even worse. Both of them knowing, both of them trying to get her to talk about it. She couldn’t do that to her mother. The less Mom knew about what she had lost, the better.
She was avoiding Giles too, which was probably stupid. This was obviously Giles territory. He was her Watcher and he should know if his Slayer was all malfunctiony. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why she didn’t want to tell him. Just add it to the list of things she wasn’t telling Giles anymore. It certainly wasn’t because she was worried he’d tell her to put Spike down now that he could hurt her. That was definitely not the reason. Giles already had a mountain of Buffy-issues to deal with. He didn’t need an entire range.
The stupid motorcycle stalled out again and she kicked angrily at the left pedal. The night before Halloween she had decided that if it weren’t so much fun, she’s just dump the stupid thing. But it was fun: running down the ones that tried to get away, taking them out with her crossbow while she rode. Her aim while driving was getting better too. Couldn’t do it all the time though, had to stay sharp on the close-in fighting too. Also fun.
Which was probably sick. She could hear Spike’s voice in her head, telling her how he knew she got off on it. Which was so not true. Only…she could remember how after a really good demon hunt, she and Riley would be racing back to his room like their clothes were going to burn right through their skins if they didn’t get them off. So, okay, maybe Spike was right. Or he had been right. Not anymore though. Now the fight was just a routine.
She’d been feeling better, that hollow feeling subsiding. She’d convinced herself it was just her way of readjusting to the real world. After all, it had taken Angel awhile to adjust after hell, so it made sense that she’d be a little wobbly after being ripped out of heaven. An adjustment period was needed, and then she’d be right as rain.
Except that now she knew she wasn’t. She’d just about decided that everything was really going to be okay when Spike’s chip let her know just what a lie that was. Something had been left behind. Whatever it was that made her scan as human was gone. Maybe Willow had forgotten her soul. Maybe that’s why Spike’s company was suddenly so comfy. Maybe that’s why she felt that emptiness in her chest, in her whole body, like her bones had gone hollow. Though she usually forgot about that feeling when she was verbally wrestling Spike.
She wished she had someone to talk to – someone who wasn’t vampire-shaped. She certainly couldn’t ask Willow about it, so… Tara? Maybe she could talk to Tara about it.
She parked the motorcycle and slid off to patrol Restfield on foot. She was still the Slayer; that part hadn’t gone away. The night air buzzed with that demon energy that she alone had to feel. Whatever she was now, whatever was left of her, this was still her job, her duty, her lot. Go out and fight the fight.
Was that music?
----
She was avoiding him, not that he could blame her. He wished he could tell himself that it was stress over Joyce, but he knew well and good that it was the chip’s little oversight that had her spooked. Just when he’d gotten her to trust him, too. Balls! He signaled to Willy for a refill and tried futilely to think of something else.
He’d never been so glad to feel pain in his life as when he’d tapped the Little Bit. Welcome electricity had shot through his cranium and he had felt almost as much relief as pain. All the thoughts rising up had died away, all the questions… Would he feed again? Would she let him last long enough to even try?
Because he’d seen it in her eyes, horror at what had happened, at what it meant. That she wasn’t human anymore, and that she would have to kill him.
She didn’t want to kill him. That was something, wasn’t it? Hadn’t run him out of Joyce’s room either, poor woman having figured out her daughters heavenly secret and trying to enlist him in her attempts to draw Buffy out just when she was least inclined to chat with him.
He reached over the bar and just grabbed the bottle. If he drank enough, he might be able to forget about her for one blessed moment. He needed a fight, needed a fuck, needed a distraction, needed something.
Was that a Chirago demon pirouetting? Distraction found.
Later he wandered up and out, started meandering toward crypt sweet crypt when he heard the purr of a motorcycle behind him and there she was, shaking out her hair, all ‘hey.’
“Don’t grind the bloody gears, Slayer,” he grumped back at her.
She leaned on the handlebars and sighed deep. “Look, I know I’ve been Avoidy Girl lately. I just wanted you to know…” She paused and seemed to steel herself before looking him in the eye. “I know you’re not going to try to kill me, Spike.”
For some reason he found this confidence immensely irritating. “Right. Just a vampire here. No reason to want to kill the Slayer. Done it twice before, you know.” He wanted to take the words back as soon as they passed his lips.
“Fine!” she shouted, spreading her arms. “Alright! God! Okay, Spike, you are the Big Bad. Let’s fight to the death. It’ll be fun.” He tossed the near-empty bottle he was toting against a tree. Instead of shattering dramatically, it just clunked and bounced to the ground, being plastic and all. “Bravo. Can we talk like grown-ups now?” she asked.
His shoulder slumped as he approached, but he felt his confidence revive when she didn’t object to his hand covering hers. “Had one-hundred forty-seven days of you gone, Buffy. Not a situation I’m looking to recreate.”
“I know,” she agreed. “This whole chip thing though—“
“Ought to chat up ol’ Rupes about that,” he advised, rather mesmerized by the fact that she still hadn’t ripped her hand away from his.
“Probably,” she grumbled, “but he’s already in mega research mode. Something the Council asked him to do, crazy important, he said. And I don’t want to mess that up because last time the Council got mad they threatened to get him deported.”
He was desperate to cheer her up. “Giles said it was ‘crazy important’, did he?”
She smirked. “You want a ride?” Off his leer, she rolled her eyes. “Home, Spike. Do you want a ride home?”
Appropriate, wasn’t it, under the circumstances. Love’s bitch riding behind his lady love and really it was just… a little too on the nose, actually. “Thanks no. Gonna take the air.”
“Keep your eyes open, okay?” she requested. “Strange stuff going on tonight.” Suddenly his hand was caught between hers and he saw her start to rise up toward him before her eyes went wide and her hands jerked away from his. “’Night Spike,” she rushed out before revving the engine and peeling off into the night.
He threw his head back and clenched his fist. Sodding tease! He reversed direction and headed back to Willy’s. He wasn’t nearly sloshed enough. He came to regret the decision however when he pushed open the door to find the entire patronage shrieking out the lyrics to ‘Piano Man’.
-------
“So who was kissing?”
The others turned to stare at her like she’d said something really stupid, but she was used to that. There had been one of those uncomfortable silences where no one would admit that they were all thinking the same thing; in this case about how they’d yanked Buffy out of heaven.
She had thought it would break the tension, but instead when she repeated the question Willow just looked at her like she’d grown a second head – but she was used to that too – and asked, “What are you talking about, Anya?”
Anya willed herself not to be rude. Mustn’t be rude to Xander’s infuriating friends. All the books said so. “Weren’t you there? We just sang ‘when the curtains close on a kiss’, so who was kissing?”
Willow gave her that ‘I’m smarter than you, so I’m not listening anymore’ head-shake arm-toss thing and dragged Tara off toward UCS, but Tara waved at least and said that they would all get together in the following evening and volunteered to bring coffee. Oh goody, so they were postponing the argument about the whole revivification thing until they had time to brood about it and were caffeinated enough to discuss it for hours on end at her place of business. She couldn’t wait.
“You think someone was kissing?” Xander asked when they were home.
She brought him a beer and curled up next to him on the couch. He was getting a beer belly, which was not pleasing to her, but all the magazines said she shouldn’t nag him. “That’s what we sang,” she reminded him. “I suppose it could have been anyone. The whole town seemed to be affected.”
He sipped his beer and stared at the wall for a moment. “I knew there was something she wasn’t telling us. I kept trying to talk to her.”
She rubbed his arm. “She didn’t want to hurt you,” Anya reassured him. Unfortunately, Buffy wasn’t really very good at not hurting. Which wasn’t surprising; hurting things was her calling. Slayers very rarely had luck with relationships for a reason.
Of course, some individuals seemed to seek out situations where they could get hurt. Maybe that’s why Spike was so into Buffy. Maybe he was looking to get hurt. Vampires were generally into discomfort, and according to Hallie, Spike had been a real sad sack in his human days.
She, on the other hand, was looking for comfort and had found it. Xander abandoned his beer and pulled her closer. “I can’t really handle thinking about that right now.” He pulled a lock of her hair straight and let it curl back around his finger. “Look, about all that stuff we said, I want this to last long enough to see you get all wrinkly.”
“I was seventeen for a thousand years,” she whispered.
“One year of being seventeen was more than enough for me,” he quipped back. “Although it wasn’t a bad year, at least, parts of it didn’t completely suck…”
“I’m going to be incredibly successful, you know,” she interrupted. “I’ll be successful enough for both of us.”
He sighed. “An, you’re not in this alone. You get that, right?”
She turned in his embrace to face him. “I do know, but I’ve also seen hundreds of women abandoned or widowed or robbed of their men. I plan to be able to take care of myself if anything ever happens to you.”
His smiles could be so soft. “Nothing’s going to happen--”
She kissed him before he could say anything fate-tempting. When she was done, he gave her that grin that let her know that an orgasm session was imminent. But then his brow furrowed and he chuckled. “Crazy lady. Now you’ve got me wondering who was kissing.”
Spike and Buffy had both left the sing-along early. But she wasn’t about to point that out to Xander. “Right now, Mr. Harris, we’re kissing.”
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Pulling apart the pieces for six and seven was tough, but I think the final version holds together well. In fact, part of the reason I wanted to go ahead and post was so that I would quit picking at the chapters and could move on to Smashed and Wrecked.
ETA: A few little fixes now that Kar's had a chance to look it over.
In our sixth installment Buffy thinks, Spike drinks, and Anya poses a question.
-------------
Mom was going to be okay.
Buffy kept reminding herself of that. Her mother was going to be fine. She’d just fainted due to the medication and stress of going back to work so soon and the doctors wanted to keep her under observation for a few days while they worked out a better treatment strategy. In the meantime Buffy had been assured repeatedly that everything was hunky-dory. Because that was what fainting spells meant, right? Everything was super.
Mom was on to her, too. When she’d woken up the first thing she’d done was grab Buffy and pull her close and whisper, ‘Oh sweetie, I’m so sorry.’ And, Buffy knew she knew. Since then she had avoided being alone with her mother if at all possible. Being in the room when Spike made his calls, coming up from the sewers so as not to miss visiting hours, was even worse. Both of them knowing, both of them trying to get her to talk about it. She couldn’t do that to her mother. The less Mom knew about what she had lost, the better.
She was avoiding Giles too, which was probably stupid. This was obviously Giles territory. He was her Watcher and he should know if his Slayer was all malfunctiony. She couldn’t quite put her finger on why she didn’t want to tell him. Just add it to the list of things she wasn’t telling Giles anymore. It certainly wasn’t because she was worried he’d tell her to put Spike down now that he could hurt her. That was definitely not the reason. Giles already had a mountain of Buffy-issues to deal with. He didn’t need an entire range.
The stupid motorcycle stalled out again and she kicked angrily at the left pedal. The night before Halloween she had decided that if it weren’t so much fun, she’s just dump the stupid thing. But it was fun: running down the ones that tried to get away, taking them out with her crossbow while she rode. Her aim while driving was getting better too. Couldn’t do it all the time though, had to stay sharp on the close-in fighting too. Also fun.
Which was probably sick. She could hear Spike’s voice in her head, telling her how he knew she got off on it. Which was so not true. Only…she could remember how after a really good demon hunt, she and Riley would be racing back to his room like their clothes were going to burn right through their skins if they didn’t get them off. So, okay, maybe Spike was right. Or he had been right. Not anymore though. Now the fight was just a routine.
She’d been feeling better, that hollow feeling subsiding. She’d convinced herself it was just her way of readjusting to the real world. After all, it had taken Angel awhile to adjust after hell, so it made sense that she’d be a little wobbly after being ripped out of heaven. An adjustment period was needed, and then she’d be right as rain.
Except that now she knew she wasn’t. She’d just about decided that everything was really going to be okay when Spike’s chip let her know just what a lie that was. Something had been left behind. Whatever it was that made her scan as human was gone. Maybe Willow had forgotten her soul. Maybe that’s why Spike’s company was suddenly so comfy. Maybe that’s why she felt that emptiness in her chest, in her whole body, like her bones had gone hollow. Though she usually forgot about that feeling when she was verbally wrestling Spike.
She wished she had someone to talk to – someone who wasn’t vampire-shaped. She certainly couldn’t ask Willow about it, so… Tara? Maybe she could talk to Tara about it.
She parked the motorcycle and slid off to patrol Restfield on foot. She was still the Slayer; that part hadn’t gone away. The night air buzzed with that demon energy that she alone had to feel. Whatever she was now, whatever was left of her, this was still her job, her duty, her lot. Go out and fight the fight.
Was that music?
----
She was avoiding him, not that he could blame her. He wished he could tell himself that it was stress over Joyce, but he knew well and good that it was the chip’s little oversight that had her spooked. Just when he’d gotten her to trust him, too. Balls! He signaled to Willy for a refill and tried futilely to think of something else.
He’d never been so glad to feel pain in his life as when he’d tapped the Little Bit. Welcome electricity had shot through his cranium and he had felt almost as much relief as pain. All the thoughts rising up had died away, all the questions… Would he feed again? Would she let him last long enough to even try?
Because he’d seen it in her eyes, horror at what had happened, at what it meant. That she wasn’t human anymore, and that she would have to kill him.
She didn’t want to kill him. That was something, wasn’t it? Hadn’t run him out of Joyce’s room either, poor woman having figured out her daughters heavenly secret and trying to enlist him in her attempts to draw Buffy out just when she was least inclined to chat with him.
He reached over the bar and just grabbed the bottle. If he drank enough, he might be able to forget about her for one blessed moment. He needed a fight, needed a fuck, needed a distraction, needed something.
Was that a Chirago demon pirouetting? Distraction found.
Later he wandered up and out, started meandering toward crypt sweet crypt when he heard the purr of a motorcycle behind him and there she was, shaking out her hair, all ‘hey.’
“Don’t grind the bloody gears, Slayer,” he grumped back at her.
She leaned on the handlebars and sighed deep. “Look, I know I’ve been Avoidy Girl lately. I just wanted you to know…” She paused and seemed to steel herself before looking him in the eye. “I know you’re not going to try to kill me, Spike.”
For some reason he found this confidence immensely irritating. “Right. Just a vampire here. No reason to want to kill the Slayer. Done it twice before, you know.” He wanted to take the words back as soon as they passed his lips.
“Fine!” she shouted, spreading her arms. “Alright! God! Okay, Spike, you are the Big Bad. Let’s fight to the death. It’ll be fun.” He tossed the near-empty bottle he was toting against a tree. Instead of shattering dramatically, it just clunked and bounced to the ground, being plastic and all. “Bravo. Can we talk like grown-ups now?” she asked.
His shoulder slumped as he approached, but he felt his confidence revive when she didn’t object to his hand covering hers. “Had one-hundred forty-seven days of you gone, Buffy. Not a situation I’m looking to recreate.”
“I know,” she agreed. “This whole chip thing though—“
“Ought to chat up ol’ Rupes about that,” he advised, rather mesmerized by the fact that she still hadn’t ripped her hand away from his.
“Probably,” she grumbled, “but he’s already in mega research mode. Something the Council asked him to do, crazy important, he said. And I don’t want to mess that up because last time the Council got mad they threatened to get him deported.”
He was desperate to cheer her up. “Giles said it was ‘crazy important’, did he?”
She smirked. “You want a ride?” Off his leer, she rolled her eyes. “Home, Spike. Do you want a ride home?”
Appropriate, wasn’t it, under the circumstances. Love’s bitch riding behind his lady love and really it was just… a little too on the nose, actually. “Thanks no. Gonna take the air.”
“Keep your eyes open, okay?” she requested. “Strange stuff going on tonight.” Suddenly his hand was caught between hers and he saw her start to rise up toward him before her eyes went wide and her hands jerked away from his. “’Night Spike,” she rushed out before revving the engine and peeling off into the night.
He threw his head back and clenched his fist. Sodding tease! He reversed direction and headed back to Willy’s. He wasn’t nearly sloshed enough. He came to regret the decision however when he pushed open the door to find the entire patronage shrieking out the lyrics to ‘Piano Man’.
-------
“So who was kissing?”
The others turned to stare at her like she’d said something really stupid, but she was used to that. There had been one of those uncomfortable silences where no one would admit that they were all thinking the same thing; in this case about how they’d yanked Buffy out of heaven.
She had thought it would break the tension, but instead when she repeated the question Willow just looked at her like she’d grown a second head – but she was used to that too – and asked, “What are you talking about, Anya?”
Anya willed herself not to be rude. Mustn’t be rude to Xander’s infuriating friends. All the books said so. “Weren’t you there? We just sang ‘when the curtains close on a kiss’, so who was kissing?”
Willow gave her that ‘I’m smarter than you, so I’m not listening anymore’ head-shake arm-toss thing and dragged Tara off toward UCS, but Tara waved at least and said that they would all get together in the following evening and volunteered to bring coffee. Oh goody, so they were postponing the argument about the whole revivification thing until they had time to brood about it and were caffeinated enough to discuss it for hours on end at her place of business. She couldn’t wait.
“You think someone was kissing?” Xander asked when they were home.
She brought him a beer and curled up next to him on the couch. He was getting a beer belly, which was not pleasing to her, but all the magazines said she shouldn’t nag him. “That’s what we sang,” she reminded him. “I suppose it could have been anyone. The whole town seemed to be affected.”
He sipped his beer and stared at the wall for a moment. “I knew there was something she wasn’t telling us. I kept trying to talk to her.”
She rubbed his arm. “She didn’t want to hurt you,” Anya reassured him. Unfortunately, Buffy wasn’t really very good at not hurting. Which wasn’t surprising; hurting things was her calling. Slayers very rarely had luck with relationships for a reason.
Of course, some individuals seemed to seek out situations where they could get hurt. Maybe that’s why Spike was so into Buffy. Maybe he was looking to get hurt. Vampires were generally into discomfort, and according to Hallie, Spike had been a real sad sack in his human days.
She, on the other hand, was looking for comfort and had found it. Xander abandoned his beer and pulled her closer. “I can’t really handle thinking about that right now.” He pulled a lock of her hair straight and let it curl back around his finger. “Look, about all that stuff we said, I want this to last long enough to see you get all wrinkly.”
“I was seventeen for a thousand years,” she whispered.
“One year of being seventeen was more than enough for me,” he quipped back. “Although it wasn’t a bad year, at least, parts of it didn’t completely suck…”
“I’m going to be incredibly successful, you know,” she interrupted. “I’ll be successful enough for both of us.”
He sighed. “An, you’re not in this alone. You get that, right?”
She turned in his embrace to face him. “I do know, but I’ve also seen hundreds of women abandoned or widowed or robbed of their men. I plan to be able to take care of myself if anything ever happens to you.”
His smiles could be so soft. “Nothing’s going to happen--”
She kissed him before he could say anything fate-tempting. When she was done, he gave her that grin that let her know that an orgasm session was imminent. But then his brow furrowed and he chuckled. “Crazy lady. Now you’ve got me wondering who was kissing.”
Spike and Buffy had both left the sing-along early. But she wasn’t about to point that out to Xander. “Right now, Mr. Harris, we’re kissing.”
--------
Pulling apart the pieces for six and seven was tough, but I think the final version holds together well. In fact, part of the reason I wanted to go ahead and post was so that I would quit picking at the chapters and could move on to Smashed and Wrecked.
Tabula Rasa
Author’s Notes: Thanks to Kar for the edits and to you all for the reviews. And also a big thank you to whoever nommed me at the LLGAs. I am so thrilled that people are enjoying the story so much. This chapter contains a few bits of familiar dialog.
In our seventh installment Buffy starts working on a mystery, Dawn stumbles upon another one, and Willow gets dumped.
------------
She had kissed Spike. Spike had kissed her back. Not a peck-on-the-cheek kiss. Not a nice to see you, glad you're not dead kiss. A chest-heaving, head-spinning, long, hungry, breathless kiss. Like, several of them.
She was in trouble.
When she'd pulled away she'd been shocked at herself and had tried to split. But then Spike had grabbed her and yanked her back and vampires were strong. So it wasn't really her fault that their bodies has crashed together like that, so that they'd ended up twined together and sucking face like no one's business until she'd finally come to her senses and shoved him away hard and taken off down the alley. Totally not her fault at all.
She'd spent the rest of the night hidden in her room, clutching a cross, wide awake. And more aroused than she'd ever been in her life.
She was in so much trouble.
Running into him on patrol hadn’t helped, especially with the whole full-body-tackle thing. She'd hoped that a workout would get her all un-kinked, and she had missed her session with Giles the day before -- probably a good thing. Otherwise an eighties power ballad might have kicked off. She was so deep in her own thoughts that she was barely aware of the conversation taking place in the Magic Box's front room. Buffy just kept whacking her punching bag, trying to wear herself out, occupy herself until she could corner Tara and start figuring out what the hell was wrong with her.
There was yelling and then there was quiet and just as she was about to go after Tara, Tara opened the door and blinked at her. The witch looked near tears and a little embarrassed.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I... I'll go, I just.."
"No, stay," Buffy insisted. "I was hoping to talk to you. Unless you want me to go… Is everything okay?"
Tara gave a harsh chuckle. "Um, define okay?"
Buffy managed a wry smile. "If this is a bad time..."
"No," Tara flopped onto a stack of mats. "If there's something I can do for you, I'd really like to. I owe you. We all owe you, Buffy. I'm so sorry." She blew out a breath and played with a string on her sleeve. "Xander thinks we should form a movie club or something."
Buffy pondered that for a moment. "That actually sounds kinda nice. We haven't really been hanging out much lately."
Tara looked away. "I guess now we know why."
Buffy winced a little. "I should have trusted you guys more."
"No, I get it, Buffy. What did you want to talk about?"
"I just don't feel like I can go to Willow with this." She noted the pained look on Tara's face, but plunged on. "I'm pretty sure something went wrong when she did the whole re-Buffication spell."
"What makes you think that?"
She kicked at the leg of the pommel horse. "Spike. He can hit me. Without getting all 'arg!' It's got me a little freaked out." She rubbed her hands together and took a deep breath. "Alsowemadeout."
Tara blinked at her a few times before venturing, "He hit you and you made out?"
I do beat him up a lot. For Spike that's like third base. Third base. Spike. Oral fixation.
"Buffy?"
"Different incidents!" Buffy squeaked, wondering just how red her face had turned and really hoping Tara couldn't read her mind. "Different problems. I think. But it's not going to happen again. The Spike-kissage, I mean." At least that's what she was telling herself and him. And, the stupid loan shark if he asked. "But the chip thing, Tara, I'm wigged."
Tara cleared her throat. "We really don't know that much about how the chip works, Buffy. It could be malfunctioning, or--"
"Nope, tested it. It still fires, just not when it's me." She chewed her bottom lip. "So I'd like to know what I am now."
Tara forced a smile. "I'm pretty sure you're Buffy. I mean, your aura, it's still all Buffy-like. But I can do some spells if you'll give me some hair."
She blinked. "Wow," she commented as she brushed a few loose strands out with her fingers. "Are you going to use some eye of newt, too?"
Tara managed a fake giggle. "Give me a few days," she requested, tucking the hairs into a little cloth bag.
"Please don't tell anyone. I know I shouldn't ask you to keep secrets from Willow--"
"I'm not sure that's going to matter anymore," Tara confided.
Buffy felt her heart sink just a little. Willow did not deal well with breakups and Tara looked like she might be sick. "I'm sorry, Tara."
"Me too," she whispered. Buffy felt like Tara was studying her hair for a moment and then the witch said, “So, Spike? Really?”
Buffy shook her head. “I know. It’s really not good and –“
“Do you like him? I…It's okay if you do. He's done a lot of good, and, and he does love you,” Tara blurted at her.
If only it were that simple. “I know he’s non-practicing evil, but that doesn’t exactly make him good.”
“I didn’t say he was good, I said he does good. Maybe that’s more important. W-What we do.”
The Slayer considered this for a moment before something glimmered and she collapsed against the pommel horse.
--------
“Auguries and prophecies. Of course, that’s often a lot of nothing, but the Council is concerned. And, of course, I’m concerned, too. I’ve found out all I can here.”
Dawn sighed and flattened herself against the wall. Giles was making some sort of deep confession to her mother while they waited for the discharge papers. She wasn’t sure how long they thought she was going to be in the bathroom, but maybe they’d just forgotten her or hadn’t noticed her. That happened a lot. Which was how she’d ended up “borrowing” a necklace from the Magic Box. Wouldn’t be doing that again.
Inevitably, people would discover her hovering nearby and be like ‘oh, Dawn’ and give her inquiring looks or sidelong glances as though they could gauge from her expression how much she’d overheard. She’d long ago learned how to put on an innocent face and act like she’d just walked in. Seriously, you would think they’d have learned.
Mom and Giles were agreeing not to tell Buffy, to spare her delicate baby feelings, but Dawn thought that was stupid. After all, secrets always came out eventually – sometimes in song even – and then people were even more wound up than if you’d just told them whatever in the first place.
But she guessed it was fair that Giles was keeping a secret from Buffy since Buffy had sworn her to silence about the chip thing. And the chip thing did have her sister really scared, so maybe she really didn’t need anything else to freak out about. Not that the chip was keeping her away from Spike. Unless someone else was making her sister come home all flustered and agitated. Like, God, just do it already.
So she was guessing from what the adults were saying that the COWs were all worried about some old book and the fact that no one had gotten all chosen when Buffy went over. Of course, Buffy had already died once and begat Kendra or something. Maybe you only got one shot. Otherwise, why wouldn’t the Council have found a way to like temporarily kill and revive a Slayer centuries ago so they could have a little slayer army.
“…balance. These mysterious Powers -- whatever they are – seem very concerned with it, according to Travers.” Giles was blathering on. “However, there has been little evidence of concern with Slayers in the past. In fact, their limited contact with Buffy has concerned Angel. I assume you understand my reluctance to consult him.”
“Yes,” her mom was saying, her annoyance palpable. Her toned was lighter when she added, “One vampire skulking around my daughter is quite enough.”
“Hey guys,” Dawn burst in on that note. “Are we ready to go?”
They both looked a bit flustered. “Oh, Dawn,” her mother chirped. “Yes, sweetie, let’s get going. Thank you again, Rupert, I know you have to get the airport.”
“Not at all,” Giles replied. Giles gave Dawn the look, but she gave him the blank face so he just picked up Mom’s bag and followed them out to the car.
--------
What the hell was the matter with her? Vampires bad. Kissing vampires? Very bad. Practically dry humping Spike at the Bronze? Really most definitely crazy bad.
Giles. It was all Giles's fault. And maybe Tara’s too, for suggesting that maybe it was okay, which is totally wasn’t, because: vampires bad. Even when the vampire was a good vampire, it all went to hell, or at least the vampire did, and where was she? Oh yeah, absolutely it was Giles’s fault. Giles was taking off on her, even though he knew now what she was going through. So she'd been upset and a little tipsy and still reeling from having all that awareness slam back into her and she couldn't stop thinking about how his skin had felt when he'd given her a hand up.
Totally not her fault.
She parked the bike and wandered through All Faiths Memorial Park, but she seemed to be the only undead haunting it. Stars and tiny flashing lights lit the fall sky. Maybe that was Giles's plane flying overhead, inching away from her blink by blink.
Shaking herself a bit, she headed back to the bike. She had to stop this, this dwelling on her own problems. After all, she'd basically assigned them to Tara. Her friends’ problems were more dangerous anyway. Xander had summoned a demon and Willow was casting spells right and left.
Demons and witches she could handle. She'd been there, done that. Of course, that was true of doomed vampire romance, too. She sighed and tried again to distract herself from Spike-related thoughts. If she just knew what was going on with the stupid chip! But Tara was probably busy arguing with Willow or trying to help her or...
Or not. Because there was Willow, wrapped in what looked like a hank of shag carpeting with a duffel and a backpack at her feet.
"I didn't know where else to go," she warbled.
------
Dawn was trying to figure out a way to sneak into Giles’s old desk at the Magic Box when Willow knocked. Mom was upstairs sleeping and Dawn decided to pretend she was too. When she realized that Willow was just going to hang out on the porch until Buffy got home, she took her planning session upstairs. Let Buffy deal with stupid Willow.
She had more important things to do. Like figuring out what Giles and Council were so worried about. Maybe Giles had left some notes in his desk and she could be Research Girl and see if she could help.
“Just put your stuff in the guest room,” she could hear Buffy saying to Willow.
Willow was all sniffling and whimpery and Dawn could just imagine the expression on her face as she wailed, “She threw me out, Buffy. I just don’t understand.”
Buffy just cleared her throat and told Willow she should get some sleep.
“You want to understand?” Dawn couldn’t contain herself. She threw open her bedroom door and rounded on Willow. “Seriously? How do you not get it? She was already pissed at you for getting all abracadabra on her and then you did it again. Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one? God!”
“Dawnie,” Buffy chided quietly. “You’re going to wake Mom.”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m sure Willow can just snap her back to sleep or something.”
“I’m not going to do that anymore, Dawnie, I swear.” Willow had gone all water works and Dawn started to feel a little bad, but not really.
“Yeah, that’s what you told Tara, too,” she retorted and sashayed back into her room. She could hear their muffled voices and then the shower kicking on.
“Hey.” Buffy was framed in her doorway.
“I don’t want her in the house,” Dawn grumbled.
Her sister sighed. “I really understand, believe me. But she’s my friend.”
“Whatever,” Dawn gruffed.
“Whatever yourself, Umad,” Buffy replied. “Look on the bright side. She’s feeling guilty, so we’ll probably get some cookies out of the deal.”
Dawn really looked at her sister, standing there trying to look cheerful. Tired smile, slumped shoulders, hair all messed up. She’d had a rough night, clearly. It wasn’t fair that she had to deal with attitude on all sides, plus it was possible that some prophecy was predicting even more suck for her. “You know,” Dawn said to her, “I’m not sure I’ve said it since… but I love you.”
Buffy’s smile seemed a little more genuine. “I love you too, Dawn.”
--------
Willow lay on top of the quilts, staring at the ceiling. She couldn't sleep, not without Tara's soft warm body next to hers. She sat up and settled into a half-lotus, trying to calm and center herself.
Tara was furious, Dawn was pissed at her. She was afraid Buffy would be mad at her too, now that Willow knew what she'd actually done to her best friend. Instead Buffy was just distant. Willow didn't know how to apologize. She hadn't meant to hurt Buffy, and she was glad her friend was back. She just hoped they were still friends.
Maybe they were. Apparently, Buffy didn't think Xander's movie idea was such a bad one. In fact she had suggested that the three of them get together, like old times, and just hang. That could be nice; she could make cookies.
Ten ujjayi breaths, twenty sukha pranayama breaths and she began to feel better. She settled back down against the pillows. She would show Tara, show all of them. She had the magic thing under control. No more spells that would affect her friends. That was what they wanted, wasn't it?
She expanded her goal to no spells that acted on people, period. Well, with an exception for imminent peril. That should be enough. She snapped the sheets back with a wave of her hands and crawled in for a satisfied slumber.
--------------
I hope it’s clear that Giles did not have a musical scene with Buffy in this version of events since the OMWF training session was canceled. There wasn’t really a good way to cover that in the previous chapter. Chapter Eight is now with Kar and I am very nervous about it as it is time for things to heat up between our heroes.
In our seventh installment Buffy starts working on a mystery, Dawn stumbles upon another one, and Willow gets dumped.
------------
She had kissed Spike. Spike had kissed her back. Not a peck-on-the-cheek kiss. Not a nice to see you, glad you're not dead kiss. A chest-heaving, head-spinning, long, hungry, breathless kiss. Like, several of them.
She was in trouble.
When she'd pulled away she'd been shocked at herself and had tried to split. But then Spike had grabbed her and yanked her back and vampires were strong. So it wasn't really her fault that their bodies has crashed together like that, so that they'd ended up twined together and sucking face like no one's business until she'd finally come to her senses and shoved him away hard and taken off down the alley. Totally not her fault at all.
She'd spent the rest of the night hidden in her room, clutching a cross, wide awake. And more aroused than she'd ever been in her life.
She was in so much trouble.
Running into him on patrol hadn’t helped, especially with the whole full-body-tackle thing. She'd hoped that a workout would get her all un-kinked, and she had missed her session with Giles the day before -- probably a good thing. Otherwise an eighties power ballad might have kicked off. She was so deep in her own thoughts that she was barely aware of the conversation taking place in the Magic Box's front room. Buffy just kept whacking her punching bag, trying to wear herself out, occupy herself until she could corner Tara and start figuring out what the hell was wrong with her.
There was yelling and then there was quiet and just as she was about to go after Tara, Tara opened the door and blinked at her. The witch looked near tears and a little embarrassed.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I... I'll go, I just.."
"No, stay," Buffy insisted. "I was hoping to talk to you. Unless you want me to go… Is everything okay?"
Tara gave a harsh chuckle. "Um, define okay?"
Buffy managed a wry smile. "If this is a bad time..."
"No," Tara flopped onto a stack of mats. "If there's something I can do for you, I'd really like to. I owe you. We all owe you, Buffy. I'm so sorry." She blew out a breath and played with a string on her sleeve. "Xander thinks we should form a movie club or something."
Buffy pondered that for a moment. "That actually sounds kinda nice. We haven't really been hanging out much lately."
Tara looked away. "I guess now we know why."
Buffy winced a little. "I should have trusted you guys more."
"No, I get it, Buffy. What did you want to talk about?"
"I just don't feel like I can go to Willow with this." She noted the pained look on Tara's face, but plunged on. "I'm pretty sure something went wrong when she did the whole re-Buffication spell."
"What makes you think that?"
She kicked at the leg of the pommel horse. "Spike. He can hit me. Without getting all 'arg!' It's got me a little freaked out." She rubbed her hands together and took a deep breath. "Alsowemadeout."
Tara blinked at her a few times before venturing, "He hit you and you made out?"
I do beat him up a lot. For Spike that's like third base. Third base. Spike. Oral fixation.
"Buffy?"
"Different incidents!" Buffy squeaked, wondering just how red her face had turned and really hoping Tara couldn't read her mind. "Different problems. I think. But it's not going to happen again. The Spike-kissage, I mean." At least that's what she was telling herself and him. And, the stupid loan shark if he asked. "But the chip thing, Tara, I'm wigged."
Tara cleared her throat. "We really don't know that much about how the chip works, Buffy. It could be malfunctioning, or--"
"Nope, tested it. It still fires, just not when it's me." She chewed her bottom lip. "So I'd like to know what I am now."
Tara forced a smile. "I'm pretty sure you're Buffy. I mean, your aura, it's still all Buffy-like. But I can do some spells if you'll give me some hair."
She blinked. "Wow," she commented as she brushed a few loose strands out with her fingers. "Are you going to use some eye of newt, too?"
Tara managed a fake giggle. "Give me a few days," she requested, tucking the hairs into a little cloth bag.
"Please don't tell anyone. I know I shouldn't ask you to keep secrets from Willow--"
"I'm not sure that's going to matter anymore," Tara confided.
Buffy felt her heart sink just a little. Willow did not deal well with breakups and Tara looked like she might be sick. "I'm sorry, Tara."
"Me too," she whispered. Buffy felt like Tara was studying her hair for a moment and then the witch said, “So, Spike? Really?”
Buffy shook her head. “I know. It’s really not good and –“
“Do you like him? I…It's okay if you do. He's done a lot of good, and, and he does love you,” Tara blurted at her.
If only it were that simple. “I know he’s non-practicing evil, but that doesn’t exactly make him good.”
“I didn’t say he was good, I said he does good. Maybe that’s more important. W-What we do.”
The Slayer considered this for a moment before something glimmered and she collapsed against the pommel horse.
--------
“Auguries and prophecies. Of course, that’s often a lot of nothing, but the Council is concerned. And, of course, I’m concerned, too. I’ve found out all I can here.”
Dawn sighed and flattened herself against the wall. Giles was making some sort of deep confession to her mother while they waited for the discharge papers. She wasn’t sure how long they thought she was going to be in the bathroom, but maybe they’d just forgotten her or hadn’t noticed her. That happened a lot. Which was how she’d ended up “borrowing” a necklace from the Magic Box. Wouldn’t be doing that again.
Inevitably, people would discover her hovering nearby and be like ‘oh, Dawn’ and give her inquiring looks or sidelong glances as though they could gauge from her expression how much she’d overheard. She’d long ago learned how to put on an innocent face and act like she’d just walked in. Seriously, you would think they’d have learned.
Mom and Giles were agreeing not to tell Buffy, to spare her delicate baby feelings, but Dawn thought that was stupid. After all, secrets always came out eventually – sometimes in song even – and then people were even more wound up than if you’d just told them whatever in the first place.
But she guessed it was fair that Giles was keeping a secret from Buffy since Buffy had sworn her to silence about the chip thing. And the chip thing did have her sister really scared, so maybe she really didn’t need anything else to freak out about. Not that the chip was keeping her away from Spike. Unless someone else was making her sister come home all flustered and agitated. Like, God, just do it already.
So she was guessing from what the adults were saying that the COWs were all worried about some old book and the fact that no one had gotten all chosen when Buffy went over. Of course, Buffy had already died once and begat Kendra or something. Maybe you only got one shot. Otherwise, why wouldn’t the Council have found a way to like temporarily kill and revive a Slayer centuries ago so they could have a little slayer army.
“…balance. These mysterious Powers -- whatever they are – seem very concerned with it, according to Travers.” Giles was blathering on. “However, there has been little evidence of concern with Slayers in the past. In fact, their limited contact with Buffy has concerned Angel. I assume you understand my reluctance to consult him.”
“Yes,” her mom was saying, her annoyance palpable. Her toned was lighter when she added, “One vampire skulking around my daughter is quite enough.”
“Hey guys,” Dawn burst in on that note. “Are we ready to go?”
They both looked a bit flustered. “Oh, Dawn,” her mother chirped. “Yes, sweetie, let’s get going. Thank you again, Rupert, I know you have to get the airport.”
“Not at all,” Giles replied. Giles gave Dawn the look, but she gave him the blank face so he just picked up Mom’s bag and followed them out to the car.
--------
What the hell was the matter with her? Vampires bad. Kissing vampires? Very bad. Practically dry humping Spike at the Bronze? Really most definitely crazy bad.
Giles. It was all Giles's fault. And maybe Tara’s too, for suggesting that maybe it was okay, which is totally wasn’t, because: vampires bad. Even when the vampire was a good vampire, it all went to hell, or at least the vampire did, and where was she? Oh yeah, absolutely it was Giles’s fault. Giles was taking off on her, even though he knew now what she was going through. So she'd been upset and a little tipsy and still reeling from having all that awareness slam back into her and she couldn't stop thinking about how his skin had felt when he'd given her a hand up.
Totally not her fault.
She parked the bike and wandered through All Faiths Memorial Park, but she seemed to be the only undead haunting it. Stars and tiny flashing lights lit the fall sky. Maybe that was Giles's plane flying overhead, inching away from her blink by blink.
Shaking herself a bit, she headed back to the bike. She had to stop this, this dwelling on her own problems. After all, she'd basically assigned them to Tara. Her friends’ problems were more dangerous anyway. Xander had summoned a demon and Willow was casting spells right and left.
Demons and witches she could handle. She'd been there, done that. Of course, that was true of doomed vampire romance, too. She sighed and tried again to distract herself from Spike-related thoughts. If she just knew what was going on with the stupid chip! But Tara was probably busy arguing with Willow or trying to help her or...
Or not. Because there was Willow, wrapped in what looked like a hank of shag carpeting with a duffel and a backpack at her feet.
"I didn't know where else to go," she warbled.
------
Dawn was trying to figure out a way to sneak into Giles’s old desk at the Magic Box when Willow knocked. Mom was upstairs sleeping and Dawn decided to pretend she was too. When she realized that Willow was just going to hang out on the porch until Buffy got home, she took her planning session upstairs. Let Buffy deal with stupid Willow.
She had more important things to do. Like figuring out what Giles and Council were so worried about. Maybe Giles had left some notes in his desk and she could be Research Girl and see if she could help.
“Just put your stuff in the guest room,” she could hear Buffy saying to Willow.
Willow was all sniffling and whimpery and Dawn could just imagine the expression on her face as she wailed, “She threw me out, Buffy. I just don’t understand.”
Buffy just cleared her throat and told Willow she should get some sleep.
“You want to understand?” Dawn couldn’t contain herself. She threw open her bedroom door and rounded on Willow. “Seriously? How do you not get it? She was already pissed at you for getting all abracadabra on her and then you did it again. Aren’t you supposed to be the smart one? God!”
“Dawnie,” Buffy chided quietly. “You’re going to wake Mom.”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m sure Willow can just snap her back to sleep or something.”
“I’m not going to do that anymore, Dawnie, I swear.” Willow had gone all water works and Dawn started to feel a little bad, but not really.
“Yeah, that’s what you told Tara, too,” she retorted and sashayed back into her room. She could hear their muffled voices and then the shower kicking on.
“Hey.” Buffy was framed in her doorway.
“I don’t want her in the house,” Dawn grumbled.
Her sister sighed. “I really understand, believe me. But she’s my friend.”
“Whatever,” Dawn gruffed.
“Whatever yourself, Umad,” Buffy replied. “Look on the bright side. She’s feeling guilty, so we’ll probably get some cookies out of the deal.”
Dawn really looked at her sister, standing there trying to look cheerful. Tired smile, slumped shoulders, hair all messed up. She’d had a rough night, clearly. It wasn’t fair that she had to deal with attitude on all sides, plus it was possible that some prophecy was predicting even more suck for her. “You know,” Dawn said to her, “I’m not sure I’ve said it since… but I love you.”
Buffy’s smile seemed a little more genuine. “I love you too, Dawn.”
--------
Willow lay on top of the quilts, staring at the ceiling. She couldn't sleep, not without Tara's soft warm body next to hers. She sat up and settled into a half-lotus, trying to calm and center herself.
Tara was furious, Dawn was pissed at her. She was afraid Buffy would be mad at her too, now that Willow knew what she'd actually done to her best friend. Instead Buffy was just distant. Willow didn't know how to apologize. She hadn't meant to hurt Buffy, and she was glad her friend was back. She just hoped they were still friends.
Maybe they were. Apparently, Buffy didn't think Xander's movie idea was such a bad one. In fact she had suggested that the three of them get together, like old times, and just hang. That could be nice; she could make cookies.
Ten ujjayi breaths, twenty sukha pranayama breaths and she began to feel better. She settled back down against the pillows. She would show Tara, show all of them. She had the magic thing under control. No more spells that would affect her friends. That was what they wanted, wasn't it?
She expanded her goal to no spells that acted on people, period. Well, with an exception for imminent peril. That should be enough. She snapped the sheets back with a wave of her hands and crawled in for a satisfied slumber.
--------------
I hope it’s clear that Giles did not have a musical scene with Buffy in this version of events since the OMWF training session was canceled. There wasn’t really a good way to cover that in the previous chapter. Chapter Eight is now with Kar and I am very nervous about it as it is time for things to heat up between our heroes.
Smash and Grab
Author’s Notes: Well, my courage did indeed hold out. Thanks to Kar for the fabulous beta job and to my reviewers for the comments. Please keep the feedback coming, especially for this chapter because I am one nervous gal.
Some recycled dialog in this chapter and a minor title change since the content is rather different than canon.
In our eighth installment, the Scoobies investigate the diamond-eating frost monster and Buffy investigates the lower level of Spike’s crypt…
Chapter Eight : Smash and Grab
She snuck around the side of the museum after they wheeled the poor frozen guy out, figuring there had to be a side entrance, and there he was. She’d only seen him once since their Bronze encounter, when he’d tried to whale on what turned out to be a regular human-type mugger. Like a total coward, she had dashed off while he was still rolling on the ground in his big drama queen way. Still, running away? Not cool.
So she was just a little embarrassed seeing him again. It wouldn’t do to let him see that though, so she grumped at him. “What are you doing here, Spike?”
”Well, you know, a man was frozen alive in there. A little compassion, love. Uh, you know, as long as we're both here, you might as well tag along. I mean, as a team we could—“
“Did you already check it out inside?” she asked petulantly.
He made a face. “As a matter of fact, yeah, so your rule-abiding self won’t have to sully her snow white—“
“Spike, are you going to tell me what you found, or do I have to go in myself?”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Nothing obvious. One frozen guard, one enormous diamond stolen. Not a lot of smashing. Knew what he was after. So something with a bit of brain.”
She nodded her head. “Okay, sounds like it’s time to hit the books then.” Once she’d gotten a few steps away, she turned back to ask over her shoulder. “Are you coming or not, Spike? This whole team thing was your idea.”
“You’re just going to keep pretending nothing happened then?” he demanded.
“Pretty much,” she shouted back over her shoulder. Why couldn’t he just let it go already. She kept walking.
Despite herself, she felt a hint of a smile creeping across her face when a few beats later, he fell into step with her.
----------
He tossed the book he was flipping through away. Pointless, the entire thing was pointless, searching through old books for demons that had freezing ability. It seemed more Supervillainy than demony to him, but Willow shot that idea down.
Buffy had brought her own villainy expert, however. The two of them were looking pretty cozy over some book. There were also sniping at each other though, so he wasn’t too worried.
“It's such a pain,” his sweetheart snapped. “The text I wanted, Giles took it with him. He has this thing that ... owning a book makes it like his property.”
”What should we do, should we call him?” Buffy asked. “It's like the middle of the night there. Or maybe it's tomorrow. Anyone remember how that works?”
“About eight hours ahead, love,” Spike offered up.
”That's okay, no one freak. We'll just do it another way.”
Xander heard his heart in his ears when Willow reached into her bag. Seeing her pull out her laptop made him almost giddy with relief. “All right, back to basics. A little old-fashioned, state-of-the-art hacker action.”
Buffy backed him up with a “That's great, Will, I haven't seen you do that in a long time.” But then Willow furrowed her brow at the screen and the keys started moving on their own. “I don't remember that part,” Buffy whispered.
Xander mashed his hands against the keys and felt his lungs seize up when Willow turned on him with darkened eyes. “What the hell, Xander?”
“Is that really necessary? Do you have, like an endless supply of mojo? What if the frost monster attacks and you’re too worn out from using your witchy-woo for typing.” He didn’t know why it was pissing him off so much. It was just a keyboard, not like she was making someone else’s fingers move, but it was just…. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent five minutes with Willow where she hadn’t cast a spell.
Her eyes were still dark. “Want to find out how much mojo I have?” she hissed out, and he felt briefly like he might lose his lunch before she softened and cried out, “What is the big deal? You guys?”
"Wouldn't it be easier to just use your fingers?" he demanded.
"What difference would that make?" When no one answered, she slammed the computer shut and clutched it to her chest. “Fine, you don’t want my help, find the damn thing yourselves.”
"Let's face it," Anya piped up, breaking the thick silence that followed Willow’s departure. "We're not gonna find this thing because it doesn't exist. There's no such thing as a frost monster who eats diamonds."
"Well, maybe he doesn't eat them. You know, maybe he just ... thinks they're pretty?" Buffy suggested. Spike made an amused noise and she elbowed him. "You have a better idea?"
"What makes you so sure it's a demon?"
Xander gave him an appraising look. Spike kinda had a point. Again. Dammit! "Yeah, the security guy's still alive, right? Also, diamonds? Worth a lot of money."
"Yes, and people like money," Anya agreed brightly.
"Thanks, sweetie." He squeezed her shoulder and she beamed at him.
Buffy pushed the stack of books away from her. "Well if it's just a human theft thing, I need to go patrol."
Xander frowned, but he understood what she was saying. Buffy had a license to slay, but the world of everyday human badness wasn't her beat. If it wasn't supernatural, it wasn't her problem. After all if she spent all her time tracking down jay-walkers, she wouldn't have the energy for monster wrestling. Something tickled at his brain though.
"Oh, oh! Science!" Buffy raised an eyebrow at him. "Diamonds can be used for science. What if someone stole the diamond to build a giant laser and blow up the moon?"
Buffy opened her mouth, closed it, and then asked archly, "That doesn't seem a little ‘No Mr. Bond, I expect you to die’ to you?"
“Exactly!” he insisted.
"Whelp's got a point."
Xander pointed a finger gun at Spike. "Thanks, Dead Boy Junior."
Buffy dropped her forehead into her hands and sighed. "Okay, it's possible you're on to something."
"Ha! I told Willow it was a Supervillain thing."
Spike pushed back his chair. "I'll see what I can find out," he declared. He smirked at Xander. “Ask if anyone’s seen the Green Goblin of late.”
"Um, thanks," Buffy whispered. Xander was pretty sure he didn't like the way they were looking at each other, and he really didn't like the way she said, "I'll see you later, I guess."
"Call you when I've got something," Spike promised.
Buffy watched the vampire walk out and then made a soft little sound. "Guess I should patrol," she announced. Xander watched Buffy head in the opposite direction down the sidewalk and relaxed a little. Still, something was going on there. He crumpled his empty bag of Cheetos and started shelving the books.
Anya whisked around cleaning and counting and humming to herself. "I think I should go find Willow," he told her.
"Well, be careful," she advised.
"Willow isn't going to hurt me," he insisted, wishing he felt as sure as he sounded. "She didn't mean to freak me out."
"She also doesn't mean to cause lots of inappropriate kissing with people you think are your fiance, but that seems to keep happening," Anya groused.
He grabbed her up in a hug. Not that he was glad she and Giles had ended up in a clench, but he had certainly enjoyed the way she apologized.
But when he was outside in the cool air, heading up the familiar path to Revello Drive, an unsettling thought occurred. Anya was right. Willow did a lot of things she didn't mean to do.
======
She was all sorts of worked up when she crashed into his crypt. Dawn just heaved a sigh and seemed to resign herself to yet again not hearing the end of a story. The pained, slightly panicked look on the elder Summers’ face morphed into anger when she saw the younger sitting on his couch.
“What are you doing here?”
Dawn puffed up three sizes. “I am visiting my friend. I don’t need your permission to be here”
Buffy sighed deep and seemed to collapse in on herself a little. “I know that. Just… you should go home before it gets dark.”
“Whatever,” Dawn snarled. “I’ll see you after school tomorrow,” she told him before hoisting her backpack and flouncing out into the afternoon light.
As soon as the door was shut, the Slayer turned on him. “You didn’t tell her anything, did you?”
He glared at her. “I’ve been informed on numerous occasions that there’s nothing to tell.”
She smashed her hands into her eyes, frustration practically radiating off her form. “I don’t want to talk about this.” She wandered about, trying to look aimless, but he could see she was heading for the ladder.
“What did you want then, Slayer?”
She stared at him for a moment. “You mentioned this place has a downstairs?” She couldn’t possibly mean what that sounded like, but he’d follow her lead like he always did.
She was trying to be casual, but it didn’t take vampire senses to glom to how nervous she was. He gestured toward the ladder and trailed her down. He could feel her moving in the dark as he lit a few candles. When he was done he saw that she was posed on the edge of the bed, legs crossed primly at the ankle, leaning back slightly on her arms, giving the place a thorough looking over.
“Has Dawn been down here?” she asked airily.
He sneered a bit. “Your precious sis hasn’t been lounging about my bedroom, no.”
“I really don’t like her hanging around here at all,” she grumped.
“Hadn’t noticed,” he snarked. He felt a grin creeping across his face. “Want me all for your own then, Slayer?”
“Don’t want you at all,” she spat back automatically. She raised her hand to cut off his rejoinder. “Okay, we both know that’s not true. I don’t want to hear about how you know what I want. And I really don’t want to know how you know, whatever creepy special vampire predator ability thing you’re making that stupid gotcha face about.”
It took him a moment to recover from her rare burst of honesty on the subject. He knelt at her feet and placed his hands on either side of her hips on the bed, boxing her in. Got up nice and close and informed her, “Have all sorts of special abilities I could demonstrate, pet.”
The force of her kiss floored him. Her hand yanking him to her by the hair might have sent him toppling if her knees hadn’t parted to catch his hips. He dimly heard a thunk as her heavy jacket hit the floor, but he was mostly aware of the sudden increase of bare skin he had access to when her naked arms went around his neck.
One hand threaded into her hair, the other traced one deceivingly delicate wrist to her shoulder and then down. When he’d tried this the other night, she’d not broken the kiss but had firmly removed his hand. This time though, when he cupped her breast she pressed herself into his palm and Ode to Joy began booming in his skull.
He was still reeling from this new license when he felt one hot little hand pulling at his fly. For a moment there was the bracing cool of the crypt air on his cock and then her incredibly warm hand, and then... Then the impossible happened.
Couldn’t be real. It was some trick. Some phantom with her face or the bot reconstructed. Couldn’t really be Buffy who’d pushed him to his back and slid off the mattress, then onto his cock. His head bounced against the thick rug and he could only imagin the dazed expression she must see on his face, because she was looking right at him. It was her alright. There was a brief flash of shock across her features, and then she threw her head back and began to move. He gasped at it, the hot slick of her and the rough lace of her shoved-aside panty against him.
Scared to move for the moment, he watched her as she rode him, delicious little sounds tripping from her lips. How long, he wondered, had it been for her? Since he’d revealed Soldier Boy’s little secret? She was hungry for it, panting. He was going to make it so good for her.
Little touches, just enough to make her shiver a bit. He thrust his hips up to meet hers and she came, surprising them both. He caught her face in his hands and pulled her down, kissed her hard. When she pulled back to catch her breath, he ripped the flimsy top in two and captured her gasp in another kiss. Her hands skirmished with his over the clasp of her bra, and she got it undone before he tore it in frustration. His shirt was a loss, however. It was impossible to care with her bare chest shifting against his own.
Hoisting them both up, he caught the thick comforter off the bed and pulled it underneath them as he rolled over her. After all, there was liking it rough and then there was carpet burn. He pulled out of her warmth reluctantly, took his time learning the contours of her body while she hid with arm across her eyes. He whispered her name and she hissed at him, but when he slid in again and ran his tongue along her throat, she made an entirely different sound and began to pitch against him, eyes open now and boring into his. So he said her name again, and again and again while his hands roamed and his eyes swam with her.
“Spike,” she husked back, and he thought it wasn’t going to end well, but instead she gave a desperate little cry and he felt his body seize up with hers as she went on clutching at him and repeating his name.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. He could barely even think, just enough to be grateful he wasn’t wearing his boots. He didn’t want to move away from her long enough to remove them, had the distinct impression she might bolt if he put enough space between them. As it was she was staring up at him, looking almost embarrassed. He shifted off her and waited to see what she would do next.
What she did was rise up on one elbow and reached for a belt loop with her other hand. He lifted his hips and let her drag his jeans down his legs and then off. Keeping her eyes on his the entire time, she pulled at the clasp on her skirt and tossed it away as well. She ran a hand over his cheek as she spoke, as though to soften the blow.
“You know this is wrong,” she pointed out softly. He nodded. It was all he could manage at the moment. “You know I don’t love you.”
Had to close his eyes at that. Knowing it didn’t mean he liked hearing it. But then her lips were on his again, her fingers gliding delicately up and down his shaft until he was hard again. And perhaps it didn’t matter quite so much that she didn’t love him, so long as she let him love her.
----------
Okay, so let me have it. This was a really tough one to put out there.
Nine is with Kar and ten is in the works!
Some recycled dialog in this chapter and a minor title change since the content is rather different than canon.
In our eighth installment, the Scoobies investigate the diamond-eating frost monster and Buffy investigates the lower level of Spike’s crypt…
Chapter Eight : Smash and Grab
She snuck around the side of the museum after they wheeled the poor frozen guy out, figuring there had to be a side entrance, and there he was. She’d only seen him once since their Bronze encounter, when he’d tried to whale on what turned out to be a regular human-type mugger. Like a total coward, she had dashed off while he was still rolling on the ground in his big drama queen way. Still, running away? Not cool.
So she was just a little embarrassed seeing him again. It wouldn’t do to let him see that though, so she grumped at him. “What are you doing here, Spike?”
”Well, you know, a man was frozen alive in there. A little compassion, love. Uh, you know, as long as we're both here, you might as well tag along. I mean, as a team we could—“
“Did you already check it out inside?” she asked petulantly.
He made a face. “As a matter of fact, yeah, so your rule-abiding self won’t have to sully her snow white—“
“Spike, are you going to tell me what you found, or do I have to go in myself?”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Nothing obvious. One frozen guard, one enormous diamond stolen. Not a lot of smashing. Knew what he was after. So something with a bit of brain.”
She nodded her head. “Okay, sounds like it’s time to hit the books then.” Once she’d gotten a few steps away, she turned back to ask over her shoulder. “Are you coming or not, Spike? This whole team thing was your idea.”
“You’re just going to keep pretending nothing happened then?” he demanded.
“Pretty much,” she shouted back over her shoulder. Why couldn’t he just let it go already. She kept walking.
Despite herself, she felt a hint of a smile creeping across her face when a few beats later, he fell into step with her.
----------
He tossed the book he was flipping through away. Pointless, the entire thing was pointless, searching through old books for demons that had freezing ability. It seemed more Supervillainy than demony to him, but Willow shot that idea down.
Buffy had brought her own villainy expert, however. The two of them were looking pretty cozy over some book. There were also sniping at each other though, so he wasn’t too worried.
“It's such a pain,” his sweetheart snapped. “The text I wanted, Giles took it with him. He has this thing that ... owning a book makes it like his property.”
”What should we do, should we call him?” Buffy asked. “It's like the middle of the night there. Or maybe it's tomorrow. Anyone remember how that works?”
“About eight hours ahead, love,” Spike offered up.
”That's okay, no one freak. We'll just do it another way.”
Xander heard his heart in his ears when Willow reached into her bag. Seeing her pull out her laptop made him almost giddy with relief. “All right, back to basics. A little old-fashioned, state-of-the-art hacker action.”
Buffy backed him up with a “That's great, Will, I haven't seen you do that in a long time.” But then Willow furrowed her brow at the screen and the keys started moving on their own. “I don't remember that part,” Buffy whispered.
Xander mashed his hands against the keys and felt his lungs seize up when Willow turned on him with darkened eyes. “What the hell, Xander?”
“Is that really necessary? Do you have, like an endless supply of mojo? What if the frost monster attacks and you’re too worn out from using your witchy-woo for typing.” He didn’t know why it was pissing him off so much. It was just a keyboard, not like she was making someone else’s fingers move, but it was just…. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent five minutes with Willow where she hadn’t cast a spell.
Her eyes were still dark. “Want to find out how much mojo I have?” she hissed out, and he felt briefly like he might lose his lunch before she softened and cried out, “What is the big deal? You guys?”
"Wouldn't it be easier to just use your fingers?" he demanded.
"What difference would that make?" When no one answered, she slammed the computer shut and clutched it to her chest. “Fine, you don’t want my help, find the damn thing yourselves.”
"Let's face it," Anya piped up, breaking the thick silence that followed Willow’s departure. "We're not gonna find this thing because it doesn't exist. There's no such thing as a frost monster who eats diamonds."
"Well, maybe he doesn't eat them. You know, maybe he just ... thinks they're pretty?" Buffy suggested. Spike made an amused noise and she elbowed him. "You have a better idea?"
"What makes you so sure it's a demon?"
Xander gave him an appraising look. Spike kinda had a point. Again. Dammit! "Yeah, the security guy's still alive, right? Also, diamonds? Worth a lot of money."
"Yes, and people like money," Anya agreed brightly.
"Thanks, sweetie." He squeezed her shoulder and she beamed at him.
Buffy pushed the stack of books away from her. "Well if it's just a human theft thing, I need to go patrol."
Xander frowned, but he understood what she was saying. Buffy had a license to slay, but the world of everyday human badness wasn't her beat. If it wasn't supernatural, it wasn't her problem. After all if she spent all her time tracking down jay-walkers, she wouldn't have the energy for monster wrestling. Something tickled at his brain though.
"Oh, oh! Science!" Buffy raised an eyebrow at him. "Diamonds can be used for science. What if someone stole the diamond to build a giant laser and blow up the moon?"
Buffy opened her mouth, closed it, and then asked archly, "That doesn't seem a little ‘No Mr. Bond, I expect you to die’ to you?"
“Exactly!” he insisted.
"Whelp's got a point."
Xander pointed a finger gun at Spike. "Thanks, Dead Boy Junior."
Buffy dropped her forehead into her hands and sighed. "Okay, it's possible you're on to something."
"Ha! I told Willow it was a Supervillain thing."
Spike pushed back his chair. "I'll see what I can find out," he declared. He smirked at Xander. “Ask if anyone’s seen the Green Goblin of late.”
"Um, thanks," Buffy whispered. Xander was pretty sure he didn't like the way they were looking at each other, and he really didn't like the way she said, "I'll see you later, I guess."
"Call you when I've got something," Spike promised.
Buffy watched the vampire walk out and then made a soft little sound. "Guess I should patrol," she announced. Xander watched Buffy head in the opposite direction down the sidewalk and relaxed a little. Still, something was going on there. He crumpled his empty bag of Cheetos and started shelving the books.
Anya whisked around cleaning and counting and humming to herself. "I think I should go find Willow," he told her.
"Well, be careful," she advised.
"Willow isn't going to hurt me," he insisted, wishing he felt as sure as he sounded. "She didn't mean to freak me out."
"She also doesn't mean to cause lots of inappropriate kissing with people you think are your fiance, but that seems to keep happening," Anya groused.
He grabbed her up in a hug. Not that he was glad she and Giles had ended up in a clench, but he had certainly enjoyed the way she apologized.
But when he was outside in the cool air, heading up the familiar path to Revello Drive, an unsettling thought occurred. Anya was right. Willow did a lot of things she didn't mean to do.
======
She was all sorts of worked up when she crashed into his crypt. Dawn just heaved a sigh and seemed to resign herself to yet again not hearing the end of a story. The pained, slightly panicked look on the elder Summers’ face morphed into anger when she saw the younger sitting on his couch.
“What are you doing here?”
Dawn puffed up three sizes. “I am visiting my friend. I don’t need your permission to be here”
Buffy sighed deep and seemed to collapse in on herself a little. “I know that. Just… you should go home before it gets dark.”
“Whatever,” Dawn snarled. “I’ll see you after school tomorrow,” she told him before hoisting her backpack and flouncing out into the afternoon light.
As soon as the door was shut, the Slayer turned on him. “You didn’t tell her anything, did you?”
He glared at her. “I’ve been informed on numerous occasions that there’s nothing to tell.”
She smashed her hands into her eyes, frustration practically radiating off her form. “I don’t want to talk about this.” She wandered about, trying to look aimless, but he could see she was heading for the ladder.
“What did you want then, Slayer?”
She stared at him for a moment. “You mentioned this place has a downstairs?” She couldn’t possibly mean what that sounded like, but he’d follow her lead like he always did.
She was trying to be casual, but it didn’t take vampire senses to glom to how nervous she was. He gestured toward the ladder and trailed her down. He could feel her moving in the dark as he lit a few candles. When he was done he saw that she was posed on the edge of the bed, legs crossed primly at the ankle, leaning back slightly on her arms, giving the place a thorough looking over.
“Has Dawn been down here?” she asked airily.
He sneered a bit. “Your precious sis hasn’t been lounging about my bedroom, no.”
“I really don’t like her hanging around here at all,” she grumped.
“Hadn’t noticed,” he snarked. He felt a grin creeping across his face. “Want me all for your own then, Slayer?”
“Don’t want you at all,” she spat back automatically. She raised her hand to cut off his rejoinder. “Okay, we both know that’s not true. I don’t want to hear about how you know what I want. And I really don’t want to know how you know, whatever creepy special vampire predator ability thing you’re making that stupid gotcha face about.”
It took him a moment to recover from her rare burst of honesty on the subject. He knelt at her feet and placed his hands on either side of her hips on the bed, boxing her in. Got up nice and close and informed her, “Have all sorts of special abilities I could demonstrate, pet.”
The force of her kiss floored him. Her hand yanking him to her by the hair might have sent him toppling if her knees hadn’t parted to catch his hips. He dimly heard a thunk as her heavy jacket hit the floor, but he was mostly aware of the sudden increase of bare skin he had access to when her naked arms went around his neck.
One hand threaded into her hair, the other traced one deceivingly delicate wrist to her shoulder and then down. When he’d tried this the other night, she’d not broken the kiss but had firmly removed his hand. This time though, when he cupped her breast she pressed herself into his palm and Ode to Joy began booming in his skull.
He was still reeling from this new license when he felt one hot little hand pulling at his fly. For a moment there was the bracing cool of the crypt air on his cock and then her incredibly warm hand, and then... Then the impossible happened.
Couldn’t be real. It was some trick. Some phantom with her face or the bot reconstructed. Couldn’t really be Buffy who’d pushed him to his back and slid off the mattress, then onto his cock. His head bounced against the thick rug and he could only imagin the dazed expression she must see on his face, because she was looking right at him. It was her alright. There was a brief flash of shock across her features, and then she threw her head back and began to move. He gasped at it, the hot slick of her and the rough lace of her shoved-aside panty against him.
Scared to move for the moment, he watched her as she rode him, delicious little sounds tripping from her lips. How long, he wondered, had it been for her? Since he’d revealed Soldier Boy’s little secret? She was hungry for it, panting. He was going to make it so good for her.
Little touches, just enough to make her shiver a bit. He thrust his hips up to meet hers and she came, surprising them both. He caught her face in his hands and pulled her down, kissed her hard. When she pulled back to catch her breath, he ripped the flimsy top in two and captured her gasp in another kiss. Her hands skirmished with his over the clasp of her bra, and she got it undone before he tore it in frustration. His shirt was a loss, however. It was impossible to care with her bare chest shifting against his own.
Hoisting them both up, he caught the thick comforter off the bed and pulled it underneath them as he rolled over her. After all, there was liking it rough and then there was carpet burn. He pulled out of her warmth reluctantly, took his time learning the contours of her body while she hid with arm across her eyes. He whispered her name and she hissed at him, but when he slid in again and ran his tongue along her throat, she made an entirely different sound and began to pitch against him, eyes open now and boring into his. So he said her name again, and again and again while his hands roamed and his eyes swam with her.
“Spike,” she husked back, and he thought it wasn’t going to end well, but instead she gave a desperate little cry and he felt his body seize up with hers as she went on clutching at him and repeating his name.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. He could barely even think, just enough to be grateful he wasn’t wearing his boots. He didn’t want to move away from her long enough to remove them, had the distinct impression she might bolt if he put enough space between them. As it was she was staring up at him, looking almost embarrassed. He shifted off her and waited to see what she would do next.
What she did was rise up on one elbow and reached for a belt loop with her other hand. He lifted his hips and let her drag his jeans down his legs and then off. Keeping her eyes on his the entire time, she pulled at the clasp on her skirt and tossed it away as well. She ran a hand over his cheek as she spoke, as though to soften the blow.
“You know this is wrong,” she pointed out softly. He nodded. It was all he could manage at the moment. “You know I don’t love you.”
Had to close his eyes at that. Knowing it didn’t mean he liked hearing it. But then her lips were on his again, her fingers gliding delicately up and down his shaft until he was hard again. And perhaps it didn’t matter quite so much that she didn’t love him, so long as she let him love her.
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Okay, so let me have it. This was a really tough one to put out there.
Nine is with Kar and ten is in the works!
Wrecked
Author’s Notes: Thanks once again to my beta Kar and to my wonderful reviewers. Kar ended up beta-ing twice for me this time. Based on some feedback from my readers, I decided to revamp a few sections in order to get deeper into Buffy’s head, which is still pretty messy at this point. Please keep the comments coming. It does help me write. The first draft of ten is done, but it may also get a few tweaks once youall weigh in on this part.
In our ninth installment Buffy wakes up, Dawn makes a discovery, and Buffy has a number of awkward conversations.
Chapter Nine: Wrecked
Upon waking a bolt of realization sat her straight up. Her eyes skittered around to the heap of clothes, the sputtering candles, the smirking face of Spike looking up at her. She inhaled deeply and hopped up out of the bed. They’d made it onto the bed at some point in the evening. She wasn’t sure when. She was a little fuzzy on the details.
He grabbed her elbow and tugged her back onto the bed with him. “Buffy, don’t go,” he whispered, running a trail of kisses along the ridge of her ear. And really, she meant to go, she meant to get off his lap and go, but somehow she had ended up kissing him again instead.
“Have to,” she insisted, wincing a bit at how weak her voice sounded.
“Not yet sunrise, Slayer. Not for another hour.” She felt a little light-headed. Not yet sunrise? She had been there since before sunset. She’d sort of lost track of time, what with the ensuing sexcapades. She cringed and dropped her forehead against his, which he took as an invitation to start kissing on her again. “Not safe up there, knackered as you are,” he added.
She snorted at him and drew back. “Full of yourself much, Spike.”
“Not as much as you’re about to be, Slayer,” he retorted as he turned them again, pinning her arms with one hand tight around her wrists. Really, she was a modern woman plus super strength. She shouldn’t find it so hot being cornered by him like that. ,But she just let her thighs fall open.
“Gonna fuck you, Slayer.”
“Will you shut up and just do it already,” she snapped.
“Didn’t mind so much last night, did you?” he husked against her neck. “Let me whisper all kinds of dirty, pretty things in your ear. Had a few things to say yourself, as I recall.” But at least he just got on with it, at last, and she knew her body shouldn’t be thrumming like that, not because of Spike. This was not the plan! If he would just keep his mouth shut, she didn’t have to think about it as much. With her eyes closed it almost didn’t matter who it was, and—
“None of that, pet.” His free hand had gone around her throat, not choking, just getting her attention. “Be here now.”
He held her gaze – was it thrall? It didn’t feel like thrall. It certainly didn’t feel like anybody else either. It felt like… “Spike.”
“That’s more like it.” He beamed down at her and did that twist/flex thing again and before very long she was reminding him of his name repeatedly.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go. She wasn't supposed to spend the night and be thinking about spending the day. When she had decided she was going to do this, she had figured it would be weird and then there'd be some sort of unpleasant altercation afterward. He would say something stupid about bagging his third slayer, she'd kick him in the head and run away, she could later say it had obviously been a mistake and it would be over and they could get on with their lives without thinking about it all the time. But that plan had gone out the window pretty much the second he touched her, and now she was planless. Not good.
Especially because, what he doing to her? Really good.
When he finally wore out, she was pretty sure the sun had risen. She managed to teeter around on wobbly legs to gather up what was left of her clothes. She paused at the foot of the ladder and stared at him. Stupid vampire, breathing in his sleep, all sleek and naked and she really needed to get home. This wasn’t a couple of kisses she could just write off as mistakes. No way that twelve hours of sex hadn’t meant anything.
Should she leave a note? Wake him? Crawl back in there and – what the hell was she doing? She had to get out of there. Some insane impulse made her tuck the covers around him and then she heaved herself up the ladder..
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Screw Buffy. He was her friend, too. That whole summer when she'd been.... gone, he'd been over all the time. Watching over her and Mom, snarking at dumb TV shows with her, teaching her to play cards. Anything to avoid thinking about her sister.
Now that Buffy was back, Spike was still around, but not like before. She wanted to ask him if he could help her get into the file cabinets at the Magic Box. But it seemed like Buffy was always with him. Not that Buffy had anything better to do with her time anymore; she was always either moping or slaying.
Something was going on with her big sister. Buffy had apparently found something else to occupy her evenings, because she hadn't come home at all last night. In fact, Dawn had caught her sneaking in while she was getting ready for school. Her jacket was buttoned up all the way, which was way dorky and her hair was all tangled.
Lucky for Buffy that Mom was in the shower and had no idea that her older daughter had been out all night.
But Buffy didn't have to know that.
"You okay? Mom was worried that you got pounded by some monster."
She had no idea her sister's eyes could get that big. Buffy looked busted. Hmm, curiouser and curiouser.
"Just kidding! Geez! Mom has no clue."
But Spike might, she mused to herself as she chomped her Trix. He was probably following Buffy around all the time since he was Mr. Obsesso, so maybe he'd know where she'd been all night. School was longer than forever, and then she had to blow off Janice so that she could scurry over to Spike's crypt.
Which seemed to be empty.
"Spike!"
There was no answer, and he wasn't down in the bed pit either. He must have used the sewers to go running off somewhere. For cigarettes or, whiskey or a poker game. Or to spy on her sister.
Oh, hello.
That totally couldn't be what it looked like.
Only it totally was what it looked like, which was Buffy's tank top. Or what was left of it. And not just any top, but that one she'd been wearing the day before when she'd kicked Dawn out.
Pounded by some monster had been right after all. Ha! And also: ew.
Buffy was staring blankly at the wall in the kitchen when Dawn got home. Well, she was going to wake her up from her stupor.
She tossed the shredded shirt on the table. "Lookie what I found!"
Buffy goggled at her. "It's not what you think," she tried, way unconvincingly.
"Hmm. Not what I think. Okay. So you've got a different reason you were half-naked in Spike's bedroom?"
"What? You were naked where?"
Dawn cringed. She'd forgotten that Mondays were Mom's day off.
"Dawn, upstairs," her mother ordered. "I need to have a word with your sister."
Oops.
She gave Buffy a 'sorry' face and then rushed up to Joyce's room to the vent over the kitchen.
--------
When the door cracked open later, Buffy lifted her head and nodded for Dawn to come in. Her sister turned down the music and took a seat on the end of the bed.
"Watcha doing?"
Buffy propped herself up on her elbows and tried to think of a better answer than 'I have no idea.' "Moping. I'm pretty sure this is a grade-A mope."
Dawn kicked off her sneakers and curled on the bed next to her. "I'm really sorry. I just meant to give you a hard time. I didn't mean to out you to Mom."
Buffy managed a smile and tugged on her sister's hair. "I know."
"She's really upset, isn't she?" Dawn nudged her sister's leg.
Buffy gave her sister a knowing look. "How much of it did you overhear?"
Dawn tried to look guilty. "Not all of it. A lot about how you need to be careful of Spike's delicate feelings so he doesn't like get loaded and burn the town down. Oh, and how apparently you're an adult now and it's none of Mom's business who you have sex with."
That was pretty close to how she remembered it, too. Her ears will still ringing with all her mother's warnings. All 'I like Spike, but he is a vampire', which -- yes, she was all too aware of that. She wished she could talk to someone. Someone who wasn't Dawn. "Don't say sex, please."
Dawn poked her in the stomach. "So you can do it, but you can't talk about it?"
"Not with my kid sister, no." Not with anyone else either though. Tara was too... Maybe Anya. Anya probably wouldn't get all judgey. But then Anya wasn't known for keeping her mouth shut.
Dawn snorted and rolled her eyes. "And, after you gave me that lecture on Halloween."
Buffy drew herself up. "Hey! That lecture stands." At Dawn's eye roll, she brought up her sternest face. "I'm serious, Dawn."
Dawn threw up her hands. "Okay, okay. I get it. You're the only one who gets to make with the vampire smoochies."
Buffy settled back down on the pillows. "Just so we're clear."
Dawn wriggled her eyebrows. "So how were the vampire smoochies?"
She couldn't help it. She had to grin at her sister's antics. Even though she should be furious with the little twerp for getting her in trouble in the first place. She was about to smart off something back when...
"The who smoochies?"
Buffy felt her entire body seize up at the sound of Willow's voice.
"You know, Halloween," her fabulous little sister covered. "We were comparing notes."
"Well, Buffy would be the expert," Willow cracked.
"Um, yeah," Buffy replied carefully. She studied Willow carefully to see if she was buying it. All signs pointed to convinced, so she relaxed.
Willow hefted her messenger bag over one shoulder. "I have to head right back. Study group. But you guys want to catch a movie or something later?"
Poor Willow with her sad mouth and itching hands. She watched her friend scratch absently at her palms. It was a feeling Buffy knew all too well. "Sounds good," Buffy decided.
As soon as they heard the front door shut, Dawn rounded on her again. "You're not telling the gang?"
Buffy took a deep breath. "It would just freak them out. Especially Xander."
"Xander's marrying a demon."
"Ex," Buffy quickly pointed out.
Dawn stared at for so long she started to wonder if she had something on her face. "Well, Spike's not killing people anymore either and you were still all 'I know it's wrong' with Mom."
Buffy banged her head against the headboard. "He's still a demon, Dawn. Anya's human now."
"I guess," Dawn huffed. Buffy could almost hear the wheels turning in her sister's head. She really didn't want to be talking about any of this, or even thinking about any of it, but even if she kicked Dawn out, she's just be coming at her with it again later.
"Is it a soul thing?" Dawn asked. "I mean it's not like a soul makes you good."
"I know that, Dawnie."
"Dahmer ate people and he was human."
Buffy felt a nasty knot forming in her stomach. "That comparison? So not making me feel better."
Dawn pursed her lips. "Okay, but he stopped, right? He could be globe-trotting with Drusilla, having her bring him yummy corpses. But he blew her off for you. I mean, that's something isn't it?"
Buffy closed her eyes and nestled deep into the pillows. "But he's not sorry, Dawn. You know that. He tells you all those gory stories. Is he confessing or bragging?" she asked, but she knew the answer.
"'Sorry and a dollar gets you on the bus'," Dawn mimicked. "But he knows it's wrong."
"Vampires always know it's wrong, Dawn. They just don't care."
"Well, he cares now!" Dawn insisted. She grabbed her sister's hand and squeezed it tight. "He's changed, Buffy. He's really trying. Doesn't that count for anything?"
Buffy stared into her sister's pleading eyes and considered the question. Her mind wandered through the memories of the night before and found his sleepy voice in her ear Feel alive when I'm with you, Buffy. Feel like a man. "Yeah, it counts," she decided aloud.
Her sister perked up and grinned at her. "So, are you going to keep seeing him?"
"You think he's going to stop stalking me?" Buffy asked glibly.
“You’re the one who popped up at his crypt!” Dawn retorted. Then her face exploded with glee. “Oh my god! That’s why you were so pissed that I was there! I totally ruined your seduction plan, didn’t I? Ha!” She bounced on her knees. “Guess you worked something out.”
Dawn was spared a severe throttling when Buffy’s cell phone rang. She was almost relieved by anything that shut Dawn up until she heard Tara's voice on the other end announcing, "I've got something for you. Could we meet somewhere?"
-------
Buffy’s phone snapped shut and he heard her address her friend across the table once more. "So there's nothing wrong with me?"
He sighed and readjusted the newspaper, curious as the slayer to hear Tara's explanation.
"This is really.... I mean, you were starting to ... decompose so when you recomposed... You're not exactly the same as you were before, but you're definitely human."
"God, that's -- that's just a really weird thing to think about, Tara. Is there anything else?"
There was a silence and then the witch said softly. "I don't know how to say this, Buffy. Some of the tests said… it’s possible that you can’t… I mean, you might be… your biology is so strange, I can’t be sure and I wouldn’t want to—“
Spike was beginning to wonder if Tara was ever going to spit out whatever it was. Her tone was making his every cell tense up. But Buffy burst in with an eerily calm, “Are you trying to tell me that I’m barren, Tara? ‘Cause I know.”
“Oh.”
Her tone was flip as she went on. “Yeah. All part of the wonder of being ‘chosen’. Everything just sorta stops in that department.”
He sat completely still, straining to hear the unsaid in her tone. He’d noticed, of course, that the Slayer never seemed to have a monthly bleed, but he’d chalked it up to the mysteries of modern contraceptives. “Slayers can’t have children?” Tara rephrased.
Her spoon tapped against her cup. “Our blood. It’s like vampire ambrosia. So having it, um, seeping out every month? Not of the wise. So the eggs go bye-bye. I think there were a few slayers with kids, but they must have gotten an early start.”
“Wow Buffy, that’s… I’m sorry.”
“No big,” she tossed back.
“No, Buffy. It is a big. I just—“
“Tara, I’m sorry, but could we please talk about anything else? This really isn’t something I like to discuss, and also only you and Giles know this, okay? I just don’t think it’s anybody’s business. So, new topic okay?”
“Spike?” Tara’s tone was teasing and he was instantly slavering to know how much the witch knew.
Buffy laughed. “Right. The staying away from Spike plan? You want to know how that’s going?” He could hear her exaggerated sigh. “Considering that he’s two tables over pretending to read a newspaper while he eavesdrops, I’d say not that great.”
He yanked the paper down. “Slayer,” he said quietly. He had no idea what to do now that he’d been caught. Was one thing having her find him out, another all together that Tara was there, too.
“I’m just gonna...” The blond witch stood up quickly and gathered up her book and bag.
“Thank you, Tara. Really,” Buffy told her as the blushing woman made her exit and Spike took her abandoned seat.
"Slayer," he repeated. Best to keep it cool. Wasn't sure how to play it after waking up alone. He'd gone up through the sewers to the Magic Box, but Anya said she hadn't seen Buffy all day and he'd had to listen to a long ramble about the relative merits of Arash Ma'har and American wedding traditions. He'd advised a Vegas elopement. It was merely happy coincidence that he'd happened into the Espresso Pump for a scone moments before she arrived.
Buffy just sipped at her coffee and looked at him expectantly. Right, she wanted him to go first. Alright then. He squared his shoulders and glowered at her. "So, this where you tell me how it was all a mistake or a spell and how we're never doing it again?"
She furrowed her brow at him. "Do you want me to say any of that?"
"Christ, no!"
"Well then drop the attitude for five seconds. That's really obnoxious, Spike."
He was fairly certain his confusion was showing. To cover he asked, "Want to go back to my place then?"
She laughed. Not a mean laugh or an exhausted laugh, but a real laugh. He was fairly certain he'd never had quite this effect on her before. "I'm meeting Dawn and Willow for a movie."
"So, later?" he tried. Gave her the eyebrow and the tongue behind the teeth and got quite a satisfying response in the way of some squirming and cutting her eyes briefly toward his lap.
"I don't know," she whispered, staring thoughtfully at her cup. "But I don't want us to stop talking," she announced forcefully, pinning him with her gaze.
Stop talking? What was she on about? She had her chair pushed back and was sliding into her jacket before he could form something comprehensible.
"I'm going to be late," she explained.
He trailed out after her, fell into step beside her, a familiar dance. "Care to explain that a bit, Slayer."
She hugged her chest and kept her eyes straight ahead. When the theater's marquis was in sight, she spoke again. "I'm just saying, this isn't me teasing you. This is me needing some time to think and I know you said in that stupid song that you didn't want me bothering you unless..." she waved her hand to conclude her little speech.
Until you do, I'm telling you, stop visiting my grave. Just when he'd managed to kill the memory she brought it roaring back to life. Was that why she’d gone to bed with him? So they could remain 'talking buddies' or whatever Scooby-speak term she had for it? Several thousand additional questions popped into his head, but he'd not gotten out more than her name when there was a nearby squealing of tires and a sickening crunch.. Followed by a familiar shrieking. Their eyes met just long enough to establish that the other understood, and then they were barreling down the sidewalk together toward the sound of Dawn's agony.
-------
By the way, I am not implying that any of the reproductive stuff is canon. It’s just part of this particular AUniverse. Please keep the comments coming!
In our ninth installment Buffy wakes up, Dawn makes a discovery, and Buffy has a number of awkward conversations.
Chapter Nine: Wrecked
Upon waking a bolt of realization sat her straight up. Her eyes skittered around to the heap of clothes, the sputtering candles, the smirking face of Spike looking up at her. She inhaled deeply and hopped up out of the bed. They’d made it onto the bed at some point in the evening. She wasn’t sure when. She was a little fuzzy on the details.
He grabbed her elbow and tugged her back onto the bed with him. “Buffy, don’t go,” he whispered, running a trail of kisses along the ridge of her ear. And really, she meant to go, she meant to get off his lap and go, but somehow she had ended up kissing him again instead.
“Have to,” she insisted, wincing a bit at how weak her voice sounded.
“Not yet sunrise, Slayer. Not for another hour.” She felt a little light-headed. Not yet sunrise? She had been there since before sunset. She’d sort of lost track of time, what with the ensuing sexcapades. She cringed and dropped her forehead against his, which he took as an invitation to start kissing on her again. “Not safe up there, knackered as you are,” he added.
She snorted at him and drew back. “Full of yourself much, Spike.”
“Not as much as you’re about to be, Slayer,” he retorted as he turned them again, pinning her arms with one hand tight around her wrists. Really, she was a modern woman plus super strength. She shouldn’t find it so hot being cornered by him like that. ,But she just let her thighs fall open.
“Gonna fuck you, Slayer.”
“Will you shut up and just do it already,” she snapped.
“Didn’t mind so much last night, did you?” he husked against her neck. “Let me whisper all kinds of dirty, pretty things in your ear. Had a few things to say yourself, as I recall.” But at least he just got on with it, at last, and she knew her body shouldn’t be thrumming like that, not because of Spike. This was not the plan! If he would just keep his mouth shut, she didn’t have to think about it as much. With her eyes closed it almost didn’t matter who it was, and—
“None of that, pet.” His free hand had gone around her throat, not choking, just getting her attention. “Be here now.”
He held her gaze – was it thrall? It didn’t feel like thrall. It certainly didn’t feel like anybody else either. It felt like… “Spike.”
“That’s more like it.” He beamed down at her and did that twist/flex thing again and before very long she was reminding him of his name repeatedly.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go. She wasn't supposed to spend the night and be thinking about spending the day. When she had decided she was going to do this, she had figured it would be weird and then there'd be some sort of unpleasant altercation afterward. He would say something stupid about bagging his third slayer, she'd kick him in the head and run away, she could later say it had obviously been a mistake and it would be over and they could get on with their lives without thinking about it all the time. But that plan had gone out the window pretty much the second he touched her, and now she was planless. Not good.
Especially because, what he doing to her? Really good.
When he finally wore out, she was pretty sure the sun had risen. She managed to teeter around on wobbly legs to gather up what was left of her clothes. She paused at the foot of the ladder and stared at him. Stupid vampire, breathing in his sleep, all sleek and naked and she really needed to get home. This wasn’t a couple of kisses she could just write off as mistakes. No way that twelve hours of sex hadn’t meant anything.
Should she leave a note? Wake him? Crawl back in there and – what the hell was she doing? She had to get out of there. Some insane impulse made her tuck the covers around him and then she heaved herself up the ladder..
------------
Screw Buffy. He was her friend, too. That whole summer when she'd been.... gone, he'd been over all the time. Watching over her and Mom, snarking at dumb TV shows with her, teaching her to play cards. Anything to avoid thinking about her sister.
Now that Buffy was back, Spike was still around, but not like before. She wanted to ask him if he could help her get into the file cabinets at the Magic Box. But it seemed like Buffy was always with him. Not that Buffy had anything better to do with her time anymore; she was always either moping or slaying.
Something was going on with her big sister. Buffy had apparently found something else to occupy her evenings, because she hadn't come home at all last night. In fact, Dawn had caught her sneaking in while she was getting ready for school. Her jacket was buttoned up all the way, which was way dorky and her hair was all tangled.
Lucky for Buffy that Mom was in the shower and had no idea that her older daughter had been out all night.
But Buffy didn't have to know that.
"You okay? Mom was worried that you got pounded by some monster."
She had no idea her sister's eyes could get that big. Buffy looked busted. Hmm, curiouser and curiouser.
"Just kidding! Geez! Mom has no clue."
But Spike might, she mused to herself as she chomped her Trix. He was probably following Buffy around all the time since he was Mr. Obsesso, so maybe he'd know where she'd been all night. School was longer than forever, and then she had to blow off Janice so that she could scurry over to Spike's crypt.
Which seemed to be empty.
"Spike!"
There was no answer, and he wasn't down in the bed pit either. He must have used the sewers to go running off somewhere. For cigarettes or, whiskey or a poker game. Or to spy on her sister.
Oh, hello.
That totally couldn't be what it looked like.
Only it totally was what it looked like, which was Buffy's tank top. Or what was left of it. And not just any top, but that one she'd been wearing the day before when she'd kicked Dawn out.
Pounded by some monster had been right after all. Ha! And also: ew.
Buffy was staring blankly at the wall in the kitchen when Dawn got home. Well, she was going to wake her up from her stupor.
She tossed the shredded shirt on the table. "Lookie what I found!"
Buffy goggled at her. "It's not what you think," she tried, way unconvincingly.
"Hmm. Not what I think. Okay. So you've got a different reason you were half-naked in Spike's bedroom?"
"What? You were naked where?"
Dawn cringed. She'd forgotten that Mondays were Mom's day off.
"Dawn, upstairs," her mother ordered. "I need to have a word with your sister."
Oops.
She gave Buffy a 'sorry' face and then rushed up to Joyce's room to the vent over the kitchen.
--------
When the door cracked open later, Buffy lifted her head and nodded for Dawn to come in. Her sister turned down the music and took a seat on the end of the bed.
"Watcha doing?"
Buffy propped herself up on her elbows and tried to think of a better answer than 'I have no idea.' "Moping. I'm pretty sure this is a grade-A mope."
Dawn kicked off her sneakers and curled on the bed next to her. "I'm really sorry. I just meant to give you a hard time. I didn't mean to out you to Mom."
Buffy managed a smile and tugged on her sister's hair. "I know."
"She's really upset, isn't she?" Dawn nudged her sister's leg.
Buffy gave her sister a knowing look. "How much of it did you overhear?"
Dawn tried to look guilty. "Not all of it. A lot about how you need to be careful of Spike's delicate feelings so he doesn't like get loaded and burn the town down. Oh, and how apparently you're an adult now and it's none of Mom's business who you have sex with."
That was pretty close to how she remembered it, too. Her ears will still ringing with all her mother's warnings. All 'I like Spike, but he is a vampire', which -- yes, she was all too aware of that. She wished she could talk to someone. Someone who wasn't Dawn. "Don't say sex, please."
Dawn poked her in the stomach. "So you can do it, but you can't talk about it?"
"Not with my kid sister, no." Not with anyone else either though. Tara was too... Maybe Anya. Anya probably wouldn't get all judgey. But then Anya wasn't known for keeping her mouth shut.
Dawn snorted and rolled her eyes. "And, after you gave me that lecture on Halloween."
Buffy drew herself up. "Hey! That lecture stands." At Dawn's eye roll, she brought up her sternest face. "I'm serious, Dawn."
Dawn threw up her hands. "Okay, okay. I get it. You're the only one who gets to make with the vampire smoochies."
Buffy settled back down on the pillows. "Just so we're clear."
Dawn wriggled her eyebrows. "So how were the vampire smoochies?"
She couldn't help it. She had to grin at her sister's antics. Even though she should be furious with the little twerp for getting her in trouble in the first place. She was about to smart off something back when...
"The who smoochies?"
Buffy felt her entire body seize up at the sound of Willow's voice.
"You know, Halloween," her fabulous little sister covered. "We were comparing notes."
"Well, Buffy would be the expert," Willow cracked.
"Um, yeah," Buffy replied carefully. She studied Willow carefully to see if she was buying it. All signs pointed to convinced, so she relaxed.
Willow hefted her messenger bag over one shoulder. "I have to head right back. Study group. But you guys want to catch a movie or something later?"
Poor Willow with her sad mouth and itching hands. She watched her friend scratch absently at her palms. It was a feeling Buffy knew all too well. "Sounds good," Buffy decided.
As soon as they heard the front door shut, Dawn rounded on her again. "You're not telling the gang?"
Buffy took a deep breath. "It would just freak them out. Especially Xander."
"Xander's marrying a demon."
"Ex," Buffy quickly pointed out.
Dawn stared at for so long she started to wonder if she had something on her face. "Well, Spike's not killing people anymore either and you were still all 'I know it's wrong' with Mom."
Buffy banged her head against the headboard. "He's still a demon, Dawn. Anya's human now."
"I guess," Dawn huffed. Buffy could almost hear the wheels turning in her sister's head. She really didn't want to be talking about any of this, or even thinking about any of it, but even if she kicked Dawn out, she's just be coming at her with it again later.
"Is it a soul thing?" Dawn asked. "I mean it's not like a soul makes you good."
"I know that, Dawnie."
"Dahmer ate people and he was human."
Buffy felt a nasty knot forming in her stomach. "That comparison? So not making me feel better."
Dawn pursed her lips. "Okay, but he stopped, right? He could be globe-trotting with Drusilla, having her bring him yummy corpses. But he blew her off for you. I mean, that's something isn't it?"
Buffy closed her eyes and nestled deep into the pillows. "But he's not sorry, Dawn. You know that. He tells you all those gory stories. Is he confessing or bragging?" she asked, but she knew the answer.
"'Sorry and a dollar gets you on the bus'," Dawn mimicked. "But he knows it's wrong."
"Vampires always know it's wrong, Dawn. They just don't care."
"Well, he cares now!" Dawn insisted. She grabbed her sister's hand and squeezed it tight. "He's changed, Buffy. He's really trying. Doesn't that count for anything?"
Buffy stared into her sister's pleading eyes and considered the question. Her mind wandered through the memories of the night before and found his sleepy voice in her ear Feel alive when I'm with you, Buffy. Feel like a man. "Yeah, it counts," she decided aloud.
Her sister perked up and grinned at her. "So, are you going to keep seeing him?"
"You think he's going to stop stalking me?" Buffy asked glibly.
“You’re the one who popped up at his crypt!” Dawn retorted. Then her face exploded with glee. “Oh my god! That’s why you were so pissed that I was there! I totally ruined your seduction plan, didn’t I? Ha!” She bounced on her knees. “Guess you worked something out.”
Dawn was spared a severe throttling when Buffy’s cell phone rang. She was almost relieved by anything that shut Dawn up until she heard Tara's voice on the other end announcing, "I've got something for you. Could we meet somewhere?"
-------
Buffy’s phone snapped shut and he heard her address her friend across the table once more. "So there's nothing wrong with me?"
He sighed and readjusted the newspaper, curious as the slayer to hear Tara's explanation.
"This is really.... I mean, you were starting to ... decompose so when you recomposed... You're not exactly the same as you were before, but you're definitely human."
"God, that's -- that's just a really weird thing to think about, Tara. Is there anything else?"
There was a silence and then the witch said softly. "I don't know how to say this, Buffy. Some of the tests said… it’s possible that you can’t… I mean, you might be… your biology is so strange, I can’t be sure and I wouldn’t want to—“
Spike was beginning to wonder if Tara was ever going to spit out whatever it was. Her tone was making his every cell tense up. But Buffy burst in with an eerily calm, “Are you trying to tell me that I’m barren, Tara? ‘Cause I know.”
“Oh.”
Her tone was flip as she went on. “Yeah. All part of the wonder of being ‘chosen’. Everything just sorta stops in that department.”
He sat completely still, straining to hear the unsaid in her tone. He’d noticed, of course, that the Slayer never seemed to have a monthly bleed, but he’d chalked it up to the mysteries of modern contraceptives. “Slayers can’t have children?” Tara rephrased.
Her spoon tapped against her cup. “Our blood. It’s like vampire ambrosia. So having it, um, seeping out every month? Not of the wise. So the eggs go bye-bye. I think there were a few slayers with kids, but they must have gotten an early start.”
“Wow Buffy, that’s… I’m sorry.”
“No big,” she tossed back.
“No, Buffy. It is a big. I just—“
“Tara, I’m sorry, but could we please talk about anything else? This really isn’t something I like to discuss, and also only you and Giles know this, okay? I just don’t think it’s anybody’s business. So, new topic okay?”
“Spike?” Tara’s tone was teasing and he was instantly slavering to know how much the witch knew.
Buffy laughed. “Right. The staying away from Spike plan? You want to know how that’s going?” He could hear her exaggerated sigh. “Considering that he’s two tables over pretending to read a newspaper while he eavesdrops, I’d say not that great.”
He yanked the paper down. “Slayer,” he said quietly. He had no idea what to do now that he’d been caught. Was one thing having her find him out, another all together that Tara was there, too.
“I’m just gonna...” The blond witch stood up quickly and gathered up her book and bag.
“Thank you, Tara. Really,” Buffy told her as the blushing woman made her exit and Spike took her abandoned seat.
"Slayer," he repeated. Best to keep it cool. Wasn't sure how to play it after waking up alone. He'd gone up through the sewers to the Magic Box, but Anya said she hadn't seen Buffy all day and he'd had to listen to a long ramble about the relative merits of Arash Ma'har and American wedding traditions. He'd advised a Vegas elopement. It was merely happy coincidence that he'd happened into the Espresso Pump for a scone moments before she arrived.
Buffy just sipped at her coffee and looked at him expectantly. Right, she wanted him to go first. Alright then. He squared his shoulders and glowered at her. "So, this where you tell me how it was all a mistake or a spell and how we're never doing it again?"
She furrowed her brow at him. "Do you want me to say any of that?"
"Christ, no!"
"Well then drop the attitude for five seconds. That's really obnoxious, Spike."
He was fairly certain his confusion was showing. To cover he asked, "Want to go back to my place then?"
She laughed. Not a mean laugh or an exhausted laugh, but a real laugh. He was fairly certain he'd never had quite this effect on her before. "I'm meeting Dawn and Willow for a movie."
"So, later?" he tried. Gave her the eyebrow and the tongue behind the teeth and got quite a satisfying response in the way of some squirming and cutting her eyes briefly toward his lap.
"I don't know," she whispered, staring thoughtfully at her cup. "But I don't want us to stop talking," she announced forcefully, pinning him with her gaze.
Stop talking? What was she on about? She had her chair pushed back and was sliding into her jacket before he could form something comprehensible.
"I'm going to be late," she explained.
He trailed out after her, fell into step beside her, a familiar dance. "Care to explain that a bit, Slayer."
She hugged her chest and kept her eyes straight ahead. When the theater's marquis was in sight, she spoke again. "I'm just saying, this isn't me teasing you. This is me needing some time to think and I know you said in that stupid song that you didn't want me bothering you unless..." she waved her hand to conclude her little speech.
Until you do, I'm telling you, stop visiting my grave. Just when he'd managed to kill the memory she brought it roaring back to life. Was that why she’d gone to bed with him? So they could remain 'talking buddies' or whatever Scooby-speak term she had for it? Several thousand additional questions popped into his head, but he'd not gotten out more than her name when there was a nearby squealing of tires and a sickening crunch.. Followed by a familiar shrieking. Their eyes met just long enough to establish that the other understood, and then they were barreling down the sidewalk together toward the sound of Dawn's agony.
-------
By the way, I am not implying that any of the reproductive stuff is canon. It’s just part of this particular AUniverse. Please keep the comments coming!
Gone
Author’s Note: Thanks to Kar again for being a generally awesome beta. Thanks to all my wonderful readers for the feedback. In addition to making the whole writing experience worthwhile, it gives me inspiration for future chapters and lets me know what's working and what's not. Eleven is coming along and hopefully I’ll have draft to Kar by the end of the week.
Characters not my own. No infringement intended. Some dialog borrowed.
In our tenth installment Spike learns what Buffy has decided, our heroine gets zapped, Willow is on the case, Buffy asks Joyce for a favor, and that's not all. It's a big chapter.
Chapter Ten: Gone
She was standing at the sink scrubbing away when he barreled in, blanket smoking. Didn’t even look at him, just stuck a pan in the drying rack and asked, “You couldn’t find a less flammable time of day to take a stroll?”
It had been about 36 hours since he’d seen them home from the hospital. After Dawn’s arm was set and she was declared fit to go home, he’d sat with the Little Bit. They’d pretended to watch the evening news while Willow and Buffy had their row in the hallway. Watcher’s old car was either getting the dents smoothed out, or Red was parking it somewhere other than Chez Summers.
Driving with her bloody thoughts when she had two perfectly good hands had cost Dawn the use of one of hers. Wanted to throttle the batty bitch but Buffy had done a pretty thorough job of browbeating Willow herself. Didn’t need him for back-up. He’d offered to patrol so she could explain things to her mum and had taken his anger out on a few unfortunate fledges.
Then he’d gone home to his Buffy-scented bed and two sleepless days were enough. Had to see her. “Your concern for my well-being is touching, Slayer,” he replied, coming up behind her and running one hand up her spine to the nape of her neck. “How’s the Niblet?”
Her heart rate was beginning to ratchet up and he could feel her leaning into his hand ever so slightly. He kneaded his thumb into the muscle there. “Good,” she groaned, and he applied more pressure. “Dawn’s – oh – good.”
Encouraged, he ran his other hand through her mane of loose hair. Silky and still a bit damp from the shower, held it up to the bits of dangerous sunlight filtering through the closed blinds. “This hair,” he whispered.
“What’s wrong with my hair?” she demanded. She whirled around, reeling him in close as he failed to let go.
“Nothing wrong with it,” he clarified, running one hand through it. “Love this hair. Love the way it—” He just managed to register the door opening and took a step back, dropping his arms.
“Harris Taxi Service!” Xander announced.
“Nothing!” Buffy blurted, jumping away like he was electrified.
Spike leaned against the fridge and lit a cigarette. It served to stifle the grin threatening to break across his face. Buffy thrust her hands back in the dishwater and began abusing a fork with the sponge.
“Uh huh.” Xander was studying the Slayer’s back intently. When Xander turned his suspicious gave to him, Spike leered at him. Xander formed an exaggerated moue of disgust. “Is Dawnie ready to roll?”
Dawn popped in to the room so suddenly he knew she’d been hovering about the whole time. Backpack slung over one arm, she winked at him. “Hi, Spike. Bye, Spike. Come on, Xander, we’ll be late.”
“Thanks, Xand.” Buffy had managed to stop blushing, but he could still hear her heart thudding along.
“No problem, Buff.” The boy gave the two of them one last glance before herding Dawn out. “Come on, gimpy girl. Got a Sharpie in the car. Let’s fancy up your cast.”
“Well, that was smooth, Slayer,” he drawled.
“Shut up,” she snapped back at him. She continued to mess about the sink for a few minutes, finally letting the water out and patting her hands dry on a rag. When she finally turned to him again, she seemed more composed, leaning against the rim of the sink, thoughtful look on. “Put that thing out,” she ordered.
He sauntered over and tossed the end of the cigarette over her shoulder and into the sink. Spike had planned to say something witty as well, but the Slayer grabbed his jacket with both hands and his mouth was rather blocked by hers. "Mom's already gone," she gasped into his ear before biting down hard on the lobe. Tangled together and blind, they bounced off the counters like a bulky pinball. He grasped her hips and lifted her to sit on the edge of the counter.
Little hands on his waist and wasn't much of one for preliminaries, was she? "Slow down, Slayer. Have the place all to ourselves and the whole day before us." The thought of it, of a long luxurious day of fucking in Buffy's own bed was a bit overwhelming. He rested his head against her shoulder for a moment until the vertigo passed.
"No, we don't," she protested. She lifted her hips and shimmied her jeans off. "I have an appointment." Her underwear quickly followed.
"So we're doing this then?" he said after a moment.
With his cock in her hand, she gave him an incredulous look and squeezed him gently. "What about this is confusing to you?"
Girl had a point. He let her pull him in for another long kiss and then slowly, so he could memorize every second of it, sank into her. "Didn't really answer my question, love," he managed after a moment.
Her eyes were closed. "Move please," she replied flatly. He obeyed with some vigor. "Yes! I mean, yes, we're -- ah -- doing this, Spike." She wrapped her legs tight around him and grasped at his jacket for traction.
"Did your thinking, then?"
"Yes."
"Not telling the Scoobs though?"
"No."
"Want me for your dirty little secret, Buffy?" he purred in her ear. By way of reply, she moaned helplessly and wound one arm around his neck.
"Please," she breathed, her voice dropping an octave. And yes, he thought as he sped up, he would give her what she wanted. Wouldn't do to get his hopes up too high about what he was going to get from this, from her. Was enough to have her wrapped around him, warm and tight and wanting and panting his name deliriously. Bucking and shouting and taking him with her. Unlife could be a lot worse.
He rested his forehead against hers as she shivered and struggled to catch her breath. "Love you," he gasped.
"I know," she answered, gently tucking him back into his jeans. "I know." Her face was too confused for him to read, but she kissed him softly once more. He wished he knew what she was thinking. What she was feeling. "I have to go. Be careful out there."
"Right." He hefted the blanket as he watched her slip back into her clothes. "Wouldn't want me going up in flames."
"No, I really wouldn't," she said quietly, her back to him.
Well, there, that was something. Practically a love poem.
---------
The interview had gone well, she thought. She was pretty sure she’d be all College Girl again in the fall. It was a little scary, seeing as how she was a whole three semesters behind. And it all felt so normal, which was pretty extraordinary for her. Normal was nice. Normal was good.
Morning vampire quickies weren’t bad either.
The memory made her feel hot all over. It also made her wonder whether Spike was sleeping the day away, and if so, about the many ways she could wake him up. There was something hugely wrong with her, and she didn’t care.
She walked past the salon and studied her reflection in the window. Maybe she did need a change. She hadn’t really done anything since her funeral other than get it trimmed when she and Mom had hit the spa. But Spike liked it, apparently. It gave her a slightly surreal feeling to be considering his opinion, like she’d woken up in the world without shrimp or something. As she contemplated a split-end, a trio of murky forms appeared behind her. There was a weird buzzing feeling in her gut, and suddenly her reflection was gone.
Huh.
“What happened to Buffy? She's gone,” she overheard Xander saying as she pushed open the shop door.
”She's right here. Table four. I put her with your family.”
”Great. Except, we don't hate Buffy. Let's put her back at table one.”
”Well, where do I put D'Hoffryn?”
”We're not inviting D'Hoffryn.”
”We have to, Xander. He's my ex-boss! You're inviting your work buddies.”
Buffy decided to weigh in. “She’s got a point.”
”Hey, Buffy... Where ... where are you?”
”At table four, apparently.”
”Well, that remains to be seen,” Anya said, looking around nervously. “Much like you.”
”Don't strain yourself looking, Xander. I'm invisible girl.” Xander’s hand flailed around and crashed into an area that hadn’t been touched by human boys in a while. “Hey!”
“Sorry! Her clothes are ... invisible ... too. Buffy, how did this... wait a sec, have you been feeling ignored lately?”
Buffy sighed. “Ignored? Not really. No, this isn't a Marcie deal. I don't know what happened. I was cruising Main Street after my interview—“
“How did that go?” Anya asked brightly.
“Oh, I think I’m in.”
Xander gave his fiancé a look and she protested, “You’re always saying I should at least pretend to be concerned with the events in your friends’ lives.”
Buffy smothered a laugh. “I thought you were very convincing, Anya.”
“Thank you.” Anya pointedly moved the ‘Buffy’ tag back to Table One. “Why would anyone make you invisible anyway? I mean, invisible Slayer's gotta be way more effective than the standard variety.”
”Yeah, I'm less with the why and more with the how. We get the how then we got how to make her unseen sight seen again, right?”
"So we do that how?" Buffy asked.
”Well, I could go check the spot where Buffy disappeared. Snoop for clues,” Xander suggested.
“Good plan, Xand.”
“You’re not freaking?” Xander asked. “Because this seems to be in the realm of the bad.”
“Kinda fun though,” Buffy replied from right behind him. She giggled when he jumped and twirled around to glare at a spot over her shoulder.
“Well, seems pretty obvious it's some kind of spell that's done this to her.”
”Spell from who? You said it yourself; it makes no sense for one of her enemies to make her invisible.”
”Maybe it's a mistake,” Anya suggested knowingly. Buffy counted the beats until Xander got it.
”A magical mistake. Who'd be messing with that kind of pow-,“ Xander shook his head. “Okay, I’m on it. Buffy—“
“Oh, I’m good,” she insisted. “I’ll just find somewhere to lie low for awhile and you guys can buzz me when you have something. Although I’m sorta hoping it doesn’t wear off before patrol time. Looking forward to sneaking up on something scary while its defenses are down, and … I gotta go be somewhere!” she realized aloud. “Thanks guys!”
--------
She could do this. Really. They found paint scrapings and a pylon and there was some van chasing Buffy and she could do it. She could find out who was harassing Buffy without using magic. After all, there was Xander, her one-man cheering section, ready to catch her if she stumbled.
Good ol’ Xander. She had forgotten, somewhere along the way, what a good friend he was.
She thrust the traffic cone at him. “You should take it to the Magic Box. It might help you and Anya figure out what kind of spell was used.”
”What about you, Wills?”
“Well, I got paint scrapings... and a tire mark. I'm gonna find this van that's been stalking Buffy. By the way, where is Buffy?”
Xander made a face. “She mentioned sneaking up on someone scary.” He tilted his head to the side and squinted at her. “I think she might be at Spike’s.”
Willow laughed. “No really, Xander.” Off his look she rephrased, “Oh really? I guess they have kinda been hanging out lately.”
Xander shook his head. “She’s not answering her phone.”
“Maybe she can’t find it? It’s probably invisible too.”
“I’ll try tracking her down,” he volunteered.
“Right,” Willow breathed. “Okay. Work to do, the hard way. No magic short-cuts. Promise.”
Xander squeezed her shoulder. “I know you can do it, Will.”
Willow straightened her back. This was it, her chance to show them what she could do. And maybe word would get back to Tara, who might even eventually forgive her. Now if only she could manage not to blow it…
--------
“God, that’s weird.”
Buffy gently pushed at his penis again, watching as it seemed to move by itself. When she turned her head she could also see the goofy sated look on his face. Post-coital was a good look on Spike. Rumpled hair and the sneer smoothed out, lanky body heaped on the pillows.
She could get used to that. Which was a thought that probably ought to scare her, but instead made her wonder how her mother would feel about Spike staying over when she was out on buying trips. She could send Dawn to Janice’s for the night. Not that the crypt wasn't comfy, but it would be nice to be able to sneak downstairs for a carton of ice cream afterward. Or, you know, during, because you could probably fit a spoonful of triple fudge ripple right where his stomach dipped--
"Still there, love?"
She confirmed it by stroking her hands down his legs. Being invisible was making her brazen.
"Do you ever get used to not showing up in the mirror?" she asked. She hadn't really thought about it before, but he'd occasionally worn eyeliner in his evil days, which she could barely get right with a reflection. "How do you know if your roots are showing?"
Instead of answering he grabbed her arms and dragged her up to lay alongside him. Pre-coital Spike wasn’t a bad look either. But for some reason he was avoiding her question. “Hardly seems fair,” he muttered into the valley between her breasts, “should have a blindfold around here somewhere.”
“Maybe next time?” she offered weakly. The idea was appealing in a way that was probably deeply bad. Maybe they could even find some rope or… wait, he was trying to distract her. “Spike, you didn’t answer my question.”
“Oft times Clem let’s me know.”
“Oh.” She stroked her thumb across his cheek. “Vampires aren’t usually solitary like you,” she mused. Giles might not believe it, but she had listened to his Vamp 101 lectures. "Do you just love me because you’re lonely?”
He made a noise and pressed his face closer against her invisible belly. “Lonely ‘cause I love you, Slayer,” he whispered to her navel.
She ran her nails over his scalp and considered that. She knew, of course, that even chipped and despised for being a pseudo white hat, Spike was a fearful presence in the demon community. Knowing that he could, but chose not to, terrify other demons into bringing him dinner was a big part of her ‘why this is okay’ list. But she’d never really thought about what the meant for him beyond missing out on nummy hot plasma.
Somehow she would talk Mom into having him over on Christmas Eve or something. Okay, so it would be weird and really awkward because her mom was so not thrilled about the whole thing. But Dawn would like it and Spike would love it, even if he acted like he was doing it just to please her. And it would be nice, really, to do something for him.
“Quiet, Buffy. You sure you’re alright?”
“The gang’s on it. I’m not much help with the research part.” She tugged at his hair. “Get back up her,” she ordered gently. “I’m starting to feel lonely.”
“Whatever you say, pet,” he groused with exaggerated reluctance.
She smiled at him, realized he couldn’t see it, and decided to say something she probably wouldn’t have if he could see the blush spreading across her entire body just thinking it. “Well, I was going to ask you to put that hard thick cock of yours inside me and fuck me, Spike, but if that’s too much trouble—“
She swallowed the slightly hysterical laugh that bubbled up when he abruptly pushed inside. He growled at her as he pumped his hips and she relaxed into the mattress. It was amazing to watch him without having to worry about what her own face gave away. But then she saw something over his shoulder and froze.
“Spike? Spike?” Xander was standing by the foot of the ladder with a hand slapped over his eyes. “Um, what are you doing?”
”What am I ... What does it look like I'm doing, you nit?” Spike tried desperately to cover. “I'm exercising, aren't I?” When he did a ‘push-up’ to demonstrate, she had to bite down on her arm to keep from making a noise. She felt stupidly disappointed when he sat back and wrapped a sheet around his hips. It was also way weird to be naked with Xander right there. Not that he could see her invisible boobs, but still. Half-hidden by Spike, she nudged a pillow over her lap.
“Exercising. Naked. In bed.” Xander looked dubious. “Right. I’m looking for Buffy.”
“Haven't seen her.” Spike protested, way too quickly. She rolled her eyes
”Well, uh, you wouldn't. The fact is she's come down with a slight case of invisibility.”
“Yeah? How did—“
“Look, if you hear from her, tell her we’ve got some kinda urgent info for her and she should call Willow right away.” He reached for a rung.
“Sure, no problem,” he replied to Xander’s vanishing feet. When the crypt door slammed he laid back on the mattress. “Better find your kit and call the witch. Could be important.”
She bit her lip and tried to figure out how she was going to locate her clothes. “We weren’t really finished here,” she grumped.
He laughed a little and fumbled around in the sheets, came up with a handful of air that turned out to be her shirt. “Think of a way you can make it up to me.”
In fact, by the time she had managed to find her clothes and left him tenting the sheets and smoking a cigarette all contemplatively, she had thought of several ways. Assuming she could get her Halloween costume out of the house without Dawn noticing.
-----
Getting taken hostage: minus. Getting whomped on the head by Mr. Misogyny: minus. But hey, solving the mystery magic-free: big plus.
Buffy seemed to agree. "Pretty neat, you finding the van. So ... how did you manage to do it exactly? I mean, to locate it?"
Willow looked her friend over. Something about her seemed different, but maybe it was just the invisibility day. "The hard way. The spell-free way. The oh-my-god-my-head's-gonna-fall-off, my-feet-are-killing-me way. The Velma way, like a good little Scooby."
"We should get a snack," Buffy suggested, gesturing to the Espresso Pump. "You know I'm here so much now, maybe I should ask for an application."
Willow quietly admitted, "I don't know how I got through this day."
"Well, the important thing is that you did. It's a... good first step."
"How are you doing, post-invisibleness?"
"Not too bad." They ordered their drinks and found a comfy couch to crash on. "I wish Dawn hadn't seen me -- or, you know, not seen me, at the Magic Box when my arch nemi-sissies called with their ransom demand."
"She freaked?"
"Big time. She said something about a prophecy and then it all got too high-pitched for human ears." Buffy shrugged. "We need to keep her out of Giles' old books."
Willow watched Buffy stir her chocolate and lick her spoon. She wanted to ask more about Dawn, about how she was doing and if the younger Summers would ever forgive her, but she had a feeling she knew what Buffy would say. It would be nice to know where she stood with her best friend though. "You know, this is nice. You and me and the talking. I kinda miss you."
Buffy blinked back at her. "Will, you know I love you…”
But
“…and you did save me from becoming pudding…”
And go me! But
“…but you did break my sister’s arm.”
There it was. Willow nodded. “I get that. I know you need to be mad at me for awhile and I deserve it, really deserve it. I just want us to be okay.”
Her friend gave her a wan smile. “So do I.”
"You know, Buffy, I'm never going to give it up completely."
"I know. No one expects that. It's just... sometimes a stake is the right thing. And other times I need a bazooka. But not very often."
Willow grinned and relaxed into the cushions. "That might be your worst metaphor ever." She felt her face crumple. “I feel so stupid… I just did what I was supposed to do, but I…”
“And, yet you want a cookie?” Buffy finished for her. Willow nodded. “Believe me, I get that.” Buffy squeezed her hand gently and Willow could feel it there, the power that coursed through Buffy. She watched as Buffy made a ‘one minute’ gesture and wandered up to the counter.
She’d never really thought about it until after Riley bolted; how it must be a constant struggle for Buffy, reining in her power, always having to think about what would happen lest she forget herself and crack someone’s spine with a friendly hug. Did it just become natural after a while, holding yourself back? If Buffy could do it, so could she.
Her friend returned with a smile, what looked like a job application form, and a plate full of sweets. She held out a lemon bar. “Come on,” she tempted the witch. “We’ll work off the calories on patrol.”
------
Joyce stared at her daughters and tried to think of a better response than "You want me to do what?" Buffy had her hands stuffed in her back pockets, her jaw set. Dawn had the sort of wheedling face on that was normally reserved for requests along the lines of Can't we get a puppy? I promise I'll take care of it.
"God, if it's going to be such a big deal, then forget it," Buffy huffed back at her. But Joyce knew her daughter and knew that this was, indeed, a very big deal.
"No!" Dawn moaned. "It'll be cool! He hasn't been over in forever."
Joyce sighed and took a seat on the couch. Her head was generally feeling better these days, but she could feel a serious headache coming on. "Dawn, I need to talk to your sister."
“He was really good at Thanksgiving that one year. Could he come over for that, too?”
“Dawn, go to your room!”
"FINE!" Dawn made one of those noises that became impossible once you graduated high school and stormed up the stairs.
Buffy perched on the arm of the couch and waited for her to say something. When Joyce instead raised an eyebrow at her, she blew out a breath. "Look, I know you don't like that I'm seeing Spike--"
"Is that what you're doing?" Joyce asked bluntly. Extending an invitation for an event a month away? It answered far too many questions Joyce hadn’t let herself ask about how serious the situation was. "Seeing Spike? You're dating?"
Buffy looked away. "Not exactly."
"Do you friends know you're 'seeing' Spike?" Buffy didn't answer, which was an answer of itself. "Buffy, do you think this is fair to him?"
Well, that got her daughter to look at her, to look at her as though she had lost her mind. "That's what's bothering you about this?"
Joyce pondered that question for a moment. "Would you like me to list the things that bother me about this? For one thing, he's a vampire. For another, I don't like to think I raised the kind of young woman who takes advantage of a man's feelings." Her daughter looked mortally affronted. "And I've seen first-hand how Spike deals with getting his heart broken. Inevitably--"
Buffy sighed. "We've been over this already, Mom. And I've been very clear with him about my feelings, I promise."
"So you have feelings for Spike now?" This conversation was not easing her concerns one bit. "The other day you were adamant that you don't love him."
"There are other feelings than love, Mom!"
"Just what every mother wants to hear about the man her daughter is sleeping with! What are you doing with him, Buffy? Do you really see a future in this... relationship?"
Buffy studied her shoes for a long time before answering. "I'm gonna say some stuff, Mom, and you're not going to like it. But I need you to hear me." Suddenly her skittish girl was gone and the Slayer was addressing her. "I didn't ask for my life back, and I don't know how long my third chance is going to last. A long time I hope, but I'm on borrowed time here. I'm not trying to get myself killed, Mom, I promise.” For a moment her voice softened and Joyce felt her hearting breaking for Buffy. “I don't even think about heaven much anymore.”
Her daughter closed her eyes for a moment before asking, “Do you know how old the longest-lived Slayer was, Mom? Giles says the oldest confirmed records say 25."
Joyce felt her brain actively rejecting this idea, objecting to having to know this fact. As a mother she could not believe that twenty five years was a respectable lifespan for her child.
Buffy stood and wandered the room a bit as she continued. "I want to break that record, really I do. And I know you've always wanted me to have a normal life, and thank you for that."
She was staring out the front window at the night outside. "I like having a little normal in my life, too. I like thinking I'm going to have a future. I'm going back to school. I'm even getting a job until classes start. Did I tell you that? But the kind of future you're asking me about? It's not going to happen. You think I'm not being fair to Spike because I don't return his feelings, but at least I'm not wasting his time. I mean, am I worse if I date Joe Normal who thinks maybe I'm the girl he'll take home to mom and maybe he'll marry and have kids with or whatever? I can't give anyone that future."
"Buffy, my god." Joyce felt like she could barely breathe. "You're getting a job?"
She felt immensely stupid once the words were past her lips, but it was the one point in her daughter's speech that she was remotely capable of addressing at the moment.
Buffy blinked at her and then let out a hysterical giggle. She wrapped her arms around Joyce's shoulders from behind and pressed her cheek to the top of her head.
Somehow, for Buffy, it would be different, had to be. Her daughter was special. She refused to believe anything else. "You understand that I can't... I don't accept that," Joyce insisted.
"I know," Buffy sighed. "That's what makes you the best mom ever."
Her mind seized on something else as well. "By the way, your sister mentioned something about you being invisible earlier?"
-------
'Buffy's boning Spike.'
Xander had uttered this little pronouncement when he'd returned to the shop. He sounded absolutely certain and when he explained about seeing Spike having sex with an invisible girl and seeing as how they knew an invisible girl... Well, he was probably right.
Now with Buffy visible once more and Willow having successfully helped them out with a non-magical solution, Xander and his girl friends all seemed to be feeling pretty good. But the conversation had been awkward, what with all the not-talking everyone was doing.
For once they had been eager to hear about the wedding plans, which was a pleasant change. Buffy was trying to talk her into some sort of pale green silk for the bridesmaids but she was fairly certain that the point was to make the attendants look as hideous as possible when compared with the bride. There was some disagreement among the online forum posts on this point.
Was Buffy enjoying him, she wondered. Of course vampires had a lot of stamina, but that wasn't necessarily a good thing. Technique was important. Her first husband had plenty of one and little of the other. They had to be willing to adapt, to learn. Quality really was the goa, as she'd had many additional unfortunate opportunities to discover in 1100 years. Spike seemed attentive enough, and Drusilla had kept him around for a century so he probably knew how to make a girl happy. Buffy might have to do some reeducating though, unless she and Dru had similar tastes, which, well maybe they did actually, given the overlaps in their sexual histories.
And he loved her. That gave in an extra something, certainly, being loved. And keeping it clandestine -- or at least thinking you were -- often spiced things up nicely. She had avenged many a woman whose wandering man seemed more attracted to the danger than the other woman. Xander got his danger fix helping Buffy though, so she wasn't too worried about that.
So yes, she thought, probably Buffy was enjoying him. And then she stopped really thinking very much at all because Xander did that thing she had taught him. And really, technique was essential.
Characters not my own. No infringement intended. Some dialog borrowed.
In our tenth installment Spike learns what Buffy has decided, our heroine gets zapped, Willow is on the case, Buffy asks Joyce for a favor, and that's not all. It's a big chapter.
Chapter Ten: Gone
She was standing at the sink scrubbing away when he barreled in, blanket smoking. Didn’t even look at him, just stuck a pan in the drying rack and asked, “You couldn’t find a less flammable time of day to take a stroll?”
It had been about 36 hours since he’d seen them home from the hospital. After Dawn’s arm was set and she was declared fit to go home, he’d sat with the Little Bit. They’d pretended to watch the evening news while Willow and Buffy had their row in the hallway. Watcher’s old car was either getting the dents smoothed out, or Red was parking it somewhere other than Chez Summers.
Driving with her bloody thoughts when she had two perfectly good hands had cost Dawn the use of one of hers. Wanted to throttle the batty bitch but Buffy had done a pretty thorough job of browbeating Willow herself. Didn’t need him for back-up. He’d offered to patrol so she could explain things to her mum and had taken his anger out on a few unfortunate fledges.
Then he’d gone home to his Buffy-scented bed and two sleepless days were enough. Had to see her. “Your concern for my well-being is touching, Slayer,” he replied, coming up behind her and running one hand up her spine to the nape of her neck. “How’s the Niblet?”
Her heart rate was beginning to ratchet up and he could feel her leaning into his hand ever so slightly. He kneaded his thumb into the muscle there. “Good,” she groaned, and he applied more pressure. “Dawn’s – oh – good.”
Encouraged, he ran his other hand through her mane of loose hair. Silky and still a bit damp from the shower, held it up to the bits of dangerous sunlight filtering through the closed blinds. “This hair,” he whispered.
“What’s wrong with my hair?” she demanded. She whirled around, reeling him in close as he failed to let go.
“Nothing wrong with it,” he clarified, running one hand through it. “Love this hair. Love the way it—” He just managed to register the door opening and took a step back, dropping his arms.
“Harris Taxi Service!” Xander announced.
“Nothing!” Buffy blurted, jumping away like he was electrified.
Spike leaned against the fridge and lit a cigarette. It served to stifle the grin threatening to break across his face. Buffy thrust her hands back in the dishwater and began abusing a fork with the sponge.
“Uh huh.” Xander was studying the Slayer’s back intently. When Xander turned his suspicious gave to him, Spike leered at him. Xander formed an exaggerated moue of disgust. “Is Dawnie ready to roll?”
Dawn popped in to the room so suddenly he knew she’d been hovering about the whole time. Backpack slung over one arm, she winked at him. “Hi, Spike. Bye, Spike. Come on, Xander, we’ll be late.”
“Thanks, Xand.” Buffy had managed to stop blushing, but he could still hear her heart thudding along.
“No problem, Buff.” The boy gave the two of them one last glance before herding Dawn out. “Come on, gimpy girl. Got a Sharpie in the car. Let’s fancy up your cast.”
“Well, that was smooth, Slayer,” he drawled.
“Shut up,” she snapped back at him. She continued to mess about the sink for a few minutes, finally letting the water out and patting her hands dry on a rag. When she finally turned to him again, she seemed more composed, leaning against the rim of the sink, thoughtful look on. “Put that thing out,” she ordered.
He sauntered over and tossed the end of the cigarette over her shoulder and into the sink. Spike had planned to say something witty as well, but the Slayer grabbed his jacket with both hands and his mouth was rather blocked by hers. "Mom's already gone," she gasped into his ear before biting down hard on the lobe. Tangled together and blind, they bounced off the counters like a bulky pinball. He grasped her hips and lifted her to sit on the edge of the counter.
Little hands on his waist and wasn't much of one for preliminaries, was she? "Slow down, Slayer. Have the place all to ourselves and the whole day before us." The thought of it, of a long luxurious day of fucking in Buffy's own bed was a bit overwhelming. He rested his head against her shoulder for a moment until the vertigo passed.
"No, we don't," she protested. She lifted her hips and shimmied her jeans off. "I have an appointment." Her underwear quickly followed.
"So we're doing this then?" he said after a moment.
With his cock in her hand, she gave him an incredulous look and squeezed him gently. "What about this is confusing to you?"
Girl had a point. He let her pull him in for another long kiss and then slowly, so he could memorize every second of it, sank into her. "Didn't really answer my question, love," he managed after a moment.
Her eyes were closed. "Move please," she replied flatly. He obeyed with some vigor. "Yes! I mean, yes, we're -- ah -- doing this, Spike." She wrapped her legs tight around him and grasped at his jacket for traction.
"Did your thinking, then?"
"Yes."
"Not telling the Scoobs though?"
"No."
"Want me for your dirty little secret, Buffy?" he purred in her ear. By way of reply, she moaned helplessly and wound one arm around his neck.
"Please," she breathed, her voice dropping an octave. And yes, he thought as he sped up, he would give her what she wanted. Wouldn't do to get his hopes up too high about what he was going to get from this, from her. Was enough to have her wrapped around him, warm and tight and wanting and panting his name deliriously. Bucking and shouting and taking him with her. Unlife could be a lot worse.
He rested his forehead against hers as she shivered and struggled to catch her breath. "Love you," he gasped.
"I know," she answered, gently tucking him back into his jeans. "I know." Her face was too confused for him to read, but she kissed him softly once more. He wished he knew what she was thinking. What she was feeling. "I have to go. Be careful out there."
"Right." He hefted the blanket as he watched her slip back into her clothes. "Wouldn't want me going up in flames."
"No, I really wouldn't," she said quietly, her back to him.
Well, there, that was something. Practically a love poem.
---------
The interview had gone well, she thought. She was pretty sure she’d be all College Girl again in the fall. It was a little scary, seeing as how she was a whole three semesters behind. And it all felt so normal, which was pretty extraordinary for her. Normal was nice. Normal was good.
Morning vampire quickies weren’t bad either.
The memory made her feel hot all over. It also made her wonder whether Spike was sleeping the day away, and if so, about the many ways she could wake him up. There was something hugely wrong with her, and she didn’t care.
She walked past the salon and studied her reflection in the window. Maybe she did need a change. She hadn’t really done anything since her funeral other than get it trimmed when she and Mom had hit the spa. But Spike liked it, apparently. It gave her a slightly surreal feeling to be considering his opinion, like she’d woken up in the world without shrimp or something. As she contemplated a split-end, a trio of murky forms appeared behind her. There was a weird buzzing feeling in her gut, and suddenly her reflection was gone.
Huh.
“What happened to Buffy? She's gone,” she overheard Xander saying as she pushed open the shop door.
”She's right here. Table four. I put her with your family.”
”Great. Except, we don't hate Buffy. Let's put her back at table one.”
”Well, where do I put D'Hoffryn?”
”We're not inviting D'Hoffryn.”
”We have to, Xander. He's my ex-boss! You're inviting your work buddies.”
Buffy decided to weigh in. “She’s got a point.”
”Hey, Buffy... Where ... where are you?”
”At table four, apparently.”
”Well, that remains to be seen,” Anya said, looking around nervously. “Much like you.”
”Don't strain yourself looking, Xander. I'm invisible girl.” Xander’s hand flailed around and crashed into an area that hadn’t been touched by human boys in a while. “Hey!”
“Sorry! Her clothes are ... invisible ... too. Buffy, how did this... wait a sec, have you been feeling ignored lately?”
Buffy sighed. “Ignored? Not really. No, this isn't a Marcie deal. I don't know what happened. I was cruising Main Street after my interview—“
“How did that go?” Anya asked brightly.
“Oh, I think I’m in.”
Xander gave his fiancé a look and she protested, “You’re always saying I should at least pretend to be concerned with the events in your friends’ lives.”
Buffy smothered a laugh. “I thought you were very convincing, Anya.”
“Thank you.” Anya pointedly moved the ‘Buffy’ tag back to Table One. “Why would anyone make you invisible anyway? I mean, invisible Slayer's gotta be way more effective than the standard variety.”
”Yeah, I'm less with the why and more with the how. We get the how then we got how to make her unseen sight seen again, right?”
"So we do that how?" Buffy asked.
”Well, I could go check the spot where Buffy disappeared. Snoop for clues,” Xander suggested.
“Good plan, Xand.”
“You’re not freaking?” Xander asked. “Because this seems to be in the realm of the bad.”
“Kinda fun though,” Buffy replied from right behind him. She giggled when he jumped and twirled around to glare at a spot over her shoulder.
“Well, seems pretty obvious it's some kind of spell that's done this to her.”
”Spell from who? You said it yourself; it makes no sense for one of her enemies to make her invisible.”
”Maybe it's a mistake,” Anya suggested knowingly. Buffy counted the beats until Xander got it.
”A magical mistake. Who'd be messing with that kind of pow-,“ Xander shook his head. “Okay, I’m on it. Buffy—“
“Oh, I’m good,” she insisted. “I’ll just find somewhere to lie low for awhile and you guys can buzz me when you have something. Although I’m sorta hoping it doesn’t wear off before patrol time. Looking forward to sneaking up on something scary while its defenses are down, and … I gotta go be somewhere!” she realized aloud. “Thanks guys!”
--------
She could do this. Really. They found paint scrapings and a pylon and there was some van chasing Buffy and she could do it. She could find out who was harassing Buffy without using magic. After all, there was Xander, her one-man cheering section, ready to catch her if she stumbled.
Good ol’ Xander. She had forgotten, somewhere along the way, what a good friend he was.
She thrust the traffic cone at him. “You should take it to the Magic Box. It might help you and Anya figure out what kind of spell was used.”
”What about you, Wills?”
“Well, I got paint scrapings... and a tire mark. I'm gonna find this van that's been stalking Buffy. By the way, where is Buffy?”
Xander made a face. “She mentioned sneaking up on someone scary.” He tilted his head to the side and squinted at her. “I think she might be at Spike’s.”
Willow laughed. “No really, Xander.” Off his look she rephrased, “Oh really? I guess they have kinda been hanging out lately.”
Xander shook his head. “She’s not answering her phone.”
“Maybe she can’t find it? It’s probably invisible too.”
“I’ll try tracking her down,” he volunteered.
“Right,” Willow breathed. “Okay. Work to do, the hard way. No magic short-cuts. Promise.”
Xander squeezed her shoulder. “I know you can do it, Will.”
Willow straightened her back. This was it, her chance to show them what she could do. And maybe word would get back to Tara, who might even eventually forgive her. Now if only she could manage not to blow it…
--------
“God, that’s weird.”
Buffy gently pushed at his penis again, watching as it seemed to move by itself. When she turned her head she could also see the goofy sated look on his face. Post-coital was a good look on Spike. Rumpled hair and the sneer smoothed out, lanky body heaped on the pillows.
She could get used to that. Which was a thought that probably ought to scare her, but instead made her wonder how her mother would feel about Spike staying over when she was out on buying trips. She could send Dawn to Janice’s for the night. Not that the crypt wasn't comfy, but it would be nice to be able to sneak downstairs for a carton of ice cream afterward. Or, you know, during, because you could probably fit a spoonful of triple fudge ripple right where his stomach dipped--
"Still there, love?"
She confirmed it by stroking her hands down his legs. Being invisible was making her brazen.
"Do you ever get used to not showing up in the mirror?" she asked. She hadn't really thought about it before, but he'd occasionally worn eyeliner in his evil days, which she could barely get right with a reflection. "How do you know if your roots are showing?"
Instead of answering he grabbed her arms and dragged her up to lay alongside him. Pre-coital Spike wasn’t a bad look either. But for some reason he was avoiding her question. “Hardly seems fair,” he muttered into the valley between her breasts, “should have a blindfold around here somewhere.”
“Maybe next time?” she offered weakly. The idea was appealing in a way that was probably deeply bad. Maybe they could even find some rope or… wait, he was trying to distract her. “Spike, you didn’t answer my question.”
“Oft times Clem let’s me know.”
“Oh.” She stroked her thumb across his cheek. “Vampires aren’t usually solitary like you,” she mused. Giles might not believe it, but she had listened to his Vamp 101 lectures. "Do you just love me because you’re lonely?”
He made a noise and pressed his face closer against her invisible belly. “Lonely ‘cause I love you, Slayer,” he whispered to her navel.
She ran her nails over his scalp and considered that. She knew, of course, that even chipped and despised for being a pseudo white hat, Spike was a fearful presence in the demon community. Knowing that he could, but chose not to, terrify other demons into bringing him dinner was a big part of her ‘why this is okay’ list. But she’d never really thought about what the meant for him beyond missing out on nummy hot plasma.
Somehow she would talk Mom into having him over on Christmas Eve or something. Okay, so it would be weird and really awkward because her mom was so not thrilled about the whole thing. But Dawn would like it and Spike would love it, even if he acted like he was doing it just to please her. And it would be nice, really, to do something for him.
“Quiet, Buffy. You sure you’re alright?”
“The gang’s on it. I’m not much help with the research part.” She tugged at his hair. “Get back up her,” she ordered gently. “I’m starting to feel lonely.”
“Whatever you say, pet,” he groused with exaggerated reluctance.
She smiled at him, realized he couldn’t see it, and decided to say something she probably wouldn’t have if he could see the blush spreading across her entire body just thinking it. “Well, I was going to ask you to put that hard thick cock of yours inside me and fuck me, Spike, but if that’s too much trouble—“
She swallowed the slightly hysterical laugh that bubbled up when he abruptly pushed inside. He growled at her as he pumped his hips and she relaxed into the mattress. It was amazing to watch him without having to worry about what her own face gave away. But then she saw something over his shoulder and froze.
“Spike? Spike?” Xander was standing by the foot of the ladder with a hand slapped over his eyes. “Um, what are you doing?”
”What am I ... What does it look like I'm doing, you nit?” Spike tried desperately to cover. “I'm exercising, aren't I?” When he did a ‘push-up’ to demonstrate, she had to bite down on her arm to keep from making a noise. She felt stupidly disappointed when he sat back and wrapped a sheet around his hips. It was also way weird to be naked with Xander right there. Not that he could see her invisible boobs, but still. Half-hidden by Spike, she nudged a pillow over her lap.
“Exercising. Naked. In bed.” Xander looked dubious. “Right. I’m looking for Buffy.”
“Haven't seen her.” Spike protested, way too quickly. She rolled her eyes
”Well, uh, you wouldn't. The fact is she's come down with a slight case of invisibility.”
“Yeah? How did—“
“Look, if you hear from her, tell her we’ve got some kinda urgent info for her and she should call Willow right away.” He reached for a rung.
“Sure, no problem,” he replied to Xander’s vanishing feet. When the crypt door slammed he laid back on the mattress. “Better find your kit and call the witch. Could be important.”
She bit her lip and tried to figure out how she was going to locate her clothes. “We weren’t really finished here,” she grumped.
He laughed a little and fumbled around in the sheets, came up with a handful of air that turned out to be her shirt. “Think of a way you can make it up to me.”
In fact, by the time she had managed to find her clothes and left him tenting the sheets and smoking a cigarette all contemplatively, she had thought of several ways. Assuming she could get her Halloween costume out of the house without Dawn noticing.
-----
Getting taken hostage: minus. Getting whomped on the head by Mr. Misogyny: minus. But hey, solving the mystery magic-free: big plus.
Buffy seemed to agree. "Pretty neat, you finding the van. So ... how did you manage to do it exactly? I mean, to locate it?"
Willow looked her friend over. Something about her seemed different, but maybe it was just the invisibility day. "The hard way. The spell-free way. The oh-my-god-my-head's-gonna-fall-off, my-feet-are-killing-me way. The Velma way, like a good little Scooby."
"We should get a snack," Buffy suggested, gesturing to the Espresso Pump. "You know I'm here so much now, maybe I should ask for an application."
Willow quietly admitted, "I don't know how I got through this day."
"Well, the important thing is that you did. It's a... good first step."
"How are you doing, post-invisibleness?"
"Not too bad." They ordered their drinks and found a comfy couch to crash on. "I wish Dawn hadn't seen me -- or, you know, not seen me, at the Magic Box when my arch nemi-sissies called with their ransom demand."
"She freaked?"
"Big time. She said something about a prophecy and then it all got too high-pitched for human ears." Buffy shrugged. "We need to keep her out of Giles' old books."
Willow watched Buffy stir her chocolate and lick her spoon. She wanted to ask more about Dawn, about how she was doing and if the younger Summers would ever forgive her, but she had a feeling she knew what Buffy would say. It would be nice to know where she stood with her best friend though. "You know, this is nice. You and me and the talking. I kinda miss you."
Buffy blinked back at her. "Will, you know I love you…”
But
“…and you did save me from becoming pudding…”
And go me! But
“…but you did break my sister’s arm.”
There it was. Willow nodded. “I get that. I know you need to be mad at me for awhile and I deserve it, really deserve it. I just want us to be okay.”
Her friend gave her a wan smile. “So do I.”
"You know, Buffy, I'm never going to give it up completely."
"I know. No one expects that. It's just... sometimes a stake is the right thing. And other times I need a bazooka. But not very often."
Willow grinned and relaxed into the cushions. "That might be your worst metaphor ever." She felt her face crumple. “I feel so stupid… I just did what I was supposed to do, but I…”
“And, yet you want a cookie?” Buffy finished for her. Willow nodded. “Believe me, I get that.” Buffy squeezed her hand gently and Willow could feel it there, the power that coursed through Buffy. She watched as Buffy made a ‘one minute’ gesture and wandered up to the counter.
She’d never really thought about it until after Riley bolted; how it must be a constant struggle for Buffy, reining in her power, always having to think about what would happen lest she forget herself and crack someone’s spine with a friendly hug. Did it just become natural after a while, holding yourself back? If Buffy could do it, so could she.
Her friend returned with a smile, what looked like a job application form, and a plate full of sweets. She held out a lemon bar. “Come on,” she tempted the witch. “We’ll work off the calories on patrol.”
------
Joyce stared at her daughters and tried to think of a better response than "You want me to do what?" Buffy had her hands stuffed in her back pockets, her jaw set. Dawn had the sort of wheedling face on that was normally reserved for requests along the lines of Can't we get a puppy? I promise I'll take care of it.
"God, if it's going to be such a big deal, then forget it," Buffy huffed back at her. But Joyce knew her daughter and knew that this was, indeed, a very big deal.
"No!" Dawn moaned. "It'll be cool! He hasn't been over in forever."
Joyce sighed and took a seat on the couch. Her head was generally feeling better these days, but she could feel a serious headache coming on. "Dawn, I need to talk to your sister."
“He was really good at Thanksgiving that one year. Could he come over for that, too?”
“Dawn, go to your room!”
"FINE!" Dawn made one of those noises that became impossible once you graduated high school and stormed up the stairs.
Buffy perched on the arm of the couch and waited for her to say something. When Joyce instead raised an eyebrow at her, she blew out a breath. "Look, I know you don't like that I'm seeing Spike--"
"Is that what you're doing?" Joyce asked bluntly. Extending an invitation for an event a month away? It answered far too many questions Joyce hadn’t let herself ask about how serious the situation was. "Seeing Spike? You're dating?"
Buffy looked away. "Not exactly."
"Do you friends know you're 'seeing' Spike?" Buffy didn't answer, which was an answer of itself. "Buffy, do you think this is fair to him?"
Well, that got her daughter to look at her, to look at her as though she had lost her mind. "That's what's bothering you about this?"
Joyce pondered that question for a moment. "Would you like me to list the things that bother me about this? For one thing, he's a vampire. For another, I don't like to think I raised the kind of young woman who takes advantage of a man's feelings." Her daughter looked mortally affronted. "And I've seen first-hand how Spike deals with getting his heart broken. Inevitably--"
Buffy sighed. "We've been over this already, Mom. And I've been very clear with him about my feelings, I promise."
"So you have feelings for Spike now?" This conversation was not easing her concerns one bit. "The other day you were adamant that you don't love him."
"There are other feelings than love, Mom!"
"Just what every mother wants to hear about the man her daughter is sleeping with! What are you doing with him, Buffy? Do you really see a future in this... relationship?"
Buffy studied her shoes for a long time before answering. "I'm gonna say some stuff, Mom, and you're not going to like it. But I need you to hear me." Suddenly her skittish girl was gone and the Slayer was addressing her. "I didn't ask for my life back, and I don't know how long my third chance is going to last. A long time I hope, but I'm on borrowed time here. I'm not trying to get myself killed, Mom, I promise.” For a moment her voice softened and Joyce felt her hearting breaking for Buffy. “I don't even think about heaven much anymore.”
Her daughter closed her eyes for a moment before asking, “Do you know how old the longest-lived Slayer was, Mom? Giles says the oldest confirmed records say 25."
Joyce felt her brain actively rejecting this idea, objecting to having to know this fact. As a mother she could not believe that twenty five years was a respectable lifespan for her child.
Buffy stood and wandered the room a bit as she continued. "I want to break that record, really I do. And I know you've always wanted me to have a normal life, and thank you for that."
She was staring out the front window at the night outside. "I like having a little normal in my life, too. I like thinking I'm going to have a future. I'm going back to school. I'm even getting a job until classes start. Did I tell you that? But the kind of future you're asking me about? It's not going to happen. You think I'm not being fair to Spike because I don't return his feelings, but at least I'm not wasting his time. I mean, am I worse if I date Joe Normal who thinks maybe I'm the girl he'll take home to mom and maybe he'll marry and have kids with or whatever? I can't give anyone that future."
"Buffy, my god." Joyce felt like she could barely breathe. "You're getting a job?"
She felt immensely stupid once the words were past her lips, but it was the one point in her daughter's speech that she was remotely capable of addressing at the moment.
Buffy blinked at her and then let out a hysterical giggle. She wrapped her arms around Joyce's shoulders from behind and pressed her cheek to the top of her head.
Somehow, for Buffy, it would be different, had to be. Her daughter was special. She refused to believe anything else. "You understand that I can't... I don't accept that," Joyce insisted.
"I know," Buffy sighed. "That's what makes you the best mom ever."
Her mind seized on something else as well. "By the way, your sister mentioned something about you being invisible earlier?"
-------
'Buffy's boning Spike.'
Xander had uttered this little pronouncement when he'd returned to the shop. He sounded absolutely certain and when he explained about seeing Spike having sex with an invisible girl and seeing as how they knew an invisible girl... Well, he was probably right.
Now with Buffy visible once more and Willow having successfully helped them out with a non-magical solution, Xander and his girl friends all seemed to be feeling pretty good. But the conversation had been awkward, what with all the not-talking everyone was doing.
For once they had been eager to hear about the wedding plans, which was a pleasant change. Buffy was trying to talk her into some sort of pale green silk for the bridesmaids but she was fairly certain that the point was to make the attendants look as hideous as possible when compared with the bride. There was some disagreement among the online forum posts on this point.
Was Buffy enjoying him, she wondered. Of course vampires had a lot of stamina, but that wasn't necessarily a good thing. Technique was important. Her first husband had plenty of one and little of the other. They had to be willing to adapt, to learn. Quality really was the goa, as she'd had many additional unfortunate opportunities to discover in 1100 years. Spike seemed attentive enough, and Drusilla had kept him around for a century so he probably knew how to make a girl happy. Buffy might have to do some reeducating though, unless she and Dru had similar tastes, which, well maybe they did actually, given the overlaps in their sexual histories.
And he loved her. That gave in an extra something, certainly, being loved. And keeping it clandestine -- or at least thinking you were -- often spiced things up nicely. She had avenged many a woman whose wandering man seemed more attracted to the danger than the other woman. Xander got his danger fix helping Buffy though, so she wasn't too worried about that.
So yes, she thought, probably Buffy was enjoying him. And then she stopped really thinking very much at all because Xander did that thing she had taught him. And really, technique was essential.
The Espresso Pump
Author’s Notes: Thanks as always to Kar for the beta and to my fabulous readers for the reviews. I was really proud of the last chapter. This one was tougher, and the Dead Things chapter is turning out to be really difficult to write. Hopefully I can pummel it into shape this weekend. Anyway, this one is a shortie.
Notes about the timeline: I am taking some liberties with how events fell on the calendar. The holidays didn’t get much play in season six after Halloween. I’m sticking them where they work for this story. Characters not my own. No infringements intended. Some dialog borrowed from episodes.
In our eleventh installment Christmas time is here, happiness and cheer.
Chapter Eleven: The Espresso Pump
It was ten minutes after five but Lisa was late, as usual. It didn’t really bother Buffy though. Thanks to the extra pay she had already wrapped up her shopping for everyone. Except Spike. After all, what was a girl to buy for her undead semi-secret lover?
Finally Lisa rushed in, reciting her usual litany of excuses. Buffy just smiled, finished up a grande cappuccino and slipped into the back to ditch her apron and brush her hair. Anya and Xander waved from their table where she’d been half-watching them argue about wedding plans for the last hour or so.
“You guys are still working on the seating chart?” she asked as she took a seat.
“I’m really wondering why we don’t go with open seating,” Xander commented. “Make it a buffet thing.”
Anya rubbed her eyes. “This is exhausting. Aren’t weddings supposed to be fun? This is making me miserable.”
Buffy shrugged. “You could always run off to Vegas. It would probably be cheaper.”
Anya frowned. “That’s what Spike said, too. But it’s important to take your vows in front of friends and loved ones. Isn’t it?” Xander just squeezed his frazzled girl’s shoulders. “By the way, are you two coming to the wedding together? Because if so that’s two less potential ‘and guests’ we have to feed.”
Buffy blinked at them. “I… what?” She felt suddenly like she was in that dream where you show up to class without any clothes on.
“Oh I’m sorry.” Anya sounded exasperated. “Are we still pretending not to know about that? I’m losing track of all the things we can’t talk about.”
Buffy looked at Xander, but Xander was pointedly studying Anya's notebooks. She kept waiting for something to happen, but nothing did. She kept waiting to feel ashamed, but that didn’t happen either. "You're not yelling?" Buffy asked him when it became obvious he wasn’t going to go first. "I thought you'd be all--"
"Not thrilled," Xander admitted. "But, I'm not getting stake-happy either." He raised his gaze to her, and gestured with his eyes toward his fiancé. "You haven't always been crazy about how I handle my love life either. For the record I think this is a terrible idea, but mostly I'm upset that you didn't think you could tell me about it."
She still couldn't quite pick her jaw up. "Xander, I... it's just, I didn't know how to tell you." Disappointing Xander was definitely low on the list of Things Buffy Likes Doing.
"I really wish you'd stop trying to protect me from what's going on in your life, Buff." He shook his head at her when she started to object, and she had to admit he was right. That was exactly what she had been doing. "I really don't want to know the details. Like, at all. You don't either," he said to Anya when her mouth started to open. "Just... be careful."
"Can I take anything for you folks?" a voice boomed behind her shoulder just as Anya mouthed 'later.'
Everyone shook their heads but the busboy continued hovering over her until she said, "We're good, Dennis, thanks." When he was gone she muttered, "God, he creeps me out."
"Lushokites have no sense of personal space, but they are relatively harmless," Anya replied absently as she frowned at some of her papers.
"He's a demon?" Xander asked.
Buffy shrugged. "Yeah, I figured that out pretty quick, but I recognized him from Giles Grimoire of the Benign."
"I promise my wedding guests are mostly harmless as well," Anya assured her. "So please refrain from slaying at the reception."
"Can that count as my present?" Buffy asked glibly. When Anya made a horrified face, she grinned at her. "Just kidding. Sorry, I shouldn't tease the stressed. After all, you did take my recommendation on dresses."
Anya slapped her hands against the table. "Yes, at least one thing has been decided. Only four hundred decisions yet to make."
Buffy gave the pair a sympathetic look. "I'll leave you to it. Good luck."
Xander grabbed her elbow as she reached for her cups. His expression was unreadable. “What?” she asked quietly.
He shrugged. “Nothing. It’s just…. You look good, Buffy.”
“I am,” she agreed. “And if I’m ever, you know, not? I know who I can call.”
Xander yanked the end her scarf playfully and they traded one last smile before she headed out into the chilly evening air. Probably she should eat some dinner, but her other appetites were overriding that urge at the moment and there was only so much time before she needed to patrol.
----------
Spike just finished his mug of blood when she waltzed in after a quick courtesy knock. Still wasn't used to that. Didn't always happen. Of course anymore when she kicked the door, she followed up by tackling him and ripping his clothes off, so he wasn't complaining.
"Tough day at the office today, sweetie?" he asked as she set two cups on his casket countertop.
She smirked at him and pushed one of the cups in his direction. "English Breakfast," she explained. "You don't have to drink it."
The slayer had brought him a cup of hot tea. Chosen because he was English and it was the waking hour for him. She was bloody adorable. He took a sip and found she'd added a little too much honey. He wasn't about to insult her little gift. "You're too good to me."
"I'm really not," she said quietly. She licked her lips. "Xander and Anya know," she announced.
He raised an eyebrow. "That explains something. Come downstairs with me."
"It's toasty down here," she said as she hopped off the ladder. "Um, how did that happen?"
He gestured toward the space heater. "Found that waiting for me when I got in from Willy's last night."
"Someone bought you a heater?" she asked. Quietly she muttered, "I should have thought of that."
"Not exactly. Demon girl left it along with a bill and a note." He dug it out of his back pocket. "Says she's been informed that 'it is appropriate to consider the comfort of guests even when their preferences differ from your own'. Makes a bit more sense now."
She chucked her coat and settled on the rug in front of the heater. He grabbed some pillows off the bed and propped himself up slightly so he could finish his drink in comfort. He stretched his legs out behind her and watched her in profile. Buffy sat with her eyes closed, occasionally crunching an ice cube from her cup.
"Was there a row?" he asked finally. He rolled his empty cup toward a box full of spent bottles.
She shook her head. "Nope." She sounded a bit surprised.
"Disappointed?"
She reached back and shoved his chest a bit. The slayer wasn't much of a cuddler when awake, he'd found. She was more prone to that sort of playful violence than to hand-holding.
Buffy scooted back from the heat and pressed herself against him. "Too hot, Slayer?" When she nodded he fished an ice cube out of her cup of water and pressed it against the back of her neck.
The cold made her tense for a moment, but then she loosened as the small thing quickly melted against her skin. "That's really... nice," she whispered, so he did it again.
"Sweater's getting soaked, Slayer," he pointed out, pleased when she immediately removed it. Then he could watch the water trickle across her skin.
A few more cubes and she turned her head to look at him. Ran a hand up his chest and pressed her palm over his still heart. "You're all warm," she commented.
A number of biting comments about body heat, lack thereof, and her taste in men sprang to the forefront of his mind, but he ignored them. Instead he reached up to unfasten her bra and sat up to press his bare chest against hers. "You're warmer."
He slid another cube down between her breasts and followed the water trail down and then further. She turned slightly pink when he guided one thigh up and over. Before long though she was swept up in it, head lolling and fingers tight in his hair as he tasted her. A flick here, a stroke there, and the space heater casting enough light for a tremendous view of her.
He nudged at her, pushing her until she bent back on her elbows, that glorious hair brushing his cock and the Slayer feeding herself to him. Occasionally he could catch her looking at him with that blissed out expression that never ceased to amaze him. He kept waiting for some disaster to befall, but instead Buffy shivered against him.
When she recovered she edged herself down his chest and settled herself slowly around his cock. He'd expected her to go at him hard, the way she so often did. Instead, she flexed her muscles around him, moving slow and steady until he practically dissolved within her. He clutched at her thighs, struggling for some semblance of control. She covered his hands with hers and pushed his arms back until she held him pinned to the floor. He could hear his own lost sound as his hips began to buck without his consent.
"Spike. You look amazing like this," she whispered shyly. And that was all it took.
They dressed slowly. "Will you come to the house on Christmas Eve? Mom's expecting you for dinner."
He blinked at her dumbly for a moment. Holiday dinner with the family? He was completely domesticated. He could not possibly care less. "Nothing better comes up," he gave as an answer.
She rolled her eyes and squeezed his hand briefly. "Come on, let's go kill something."
--------
"...So she's all 'tremble masculine one and prepare to feel my wrath'. It was extremely unnerving."
Willow laughed around a mouthful of caramel corn. "But you guys have met before, right? Weren't you telling me she keeps calling you the 'boy with the muscular forearms'?"
"Man, thank you. The man with the muscular forearms."
"Well, at least it's apt."
Xander grinned at her. "Anyway, she got Anya's message confused with a summons I guess. And let me say, vein face? Not a good look."
Willow nodded and offered him some more popcorn. He waved it off and patted his slowly shrinking gut. "So it doesn't bother you that she's spending a few days with the vengeance crew?"
"Oh, it bothers me. It bothers me a lot that D'Hoffryn is going to sorta be my father-in-law. Also not so pleased that she's spending three days with a bunch of demons who are going to try to talk her out of marrying me."
"Not gonna happen, bub." She firmly clamped down on the voice telling her that it wouldn't be so bad if they succeeded. "Anyway, I'm kinda glad. Gives us one last chance for our own holiday tradition."
Xander pressed a socked foot against her own. "What do you mean, Wills? You won't do Christmas Eve with me once I'm an old married guy?"
She pressed back. "You and Anya will have your own stuff. And maybe even kids, like, many many years from now. You're not going to have time for me."
"That's so not true. I'm always gonna have time for you." He gave her that Xander smile. "And even if and when there are kids, you'll be witchy Aunt Willow who buys them Hanukkah socks, or solstice socks, or whatever. And they'll watch Charlie Brown with us."
"I know it's dumb," she said quietly. "And I'm really happy for you, 'cause I know you love Anya even if I totally don't understand it--"
"Well that's good," he teased. "Wouldn't want you macking on my girl."
She whapped his knee with her foot. His joking with her was making her even sadder. She was so selfish sometimes. What was the matter with her?
But as usual, Xander was reading her loud and clear. He paused the tape and stared at the frozen image of Charlie's tree while he spoke. "You know, I think it made it easier on me, you being into girls. It's like... I still get to be the man in your life."
"You are, you know," she agreed. She struggled for a way to explain it. "I know it's stupid, but I'm jealous. I mean -- gay now, but I can barely remember when you weren't in my life."
"Still gonna be in your life, Wills."
She managed a weak smile. "Losing Oz was really hard and loosing Tara? Hello to the pain. But you better stick around, buster, because I really don't know how I would deal."
Xander pulled her in close and kissed her forehead. "Guess I'll have to stick around then."
She settled comfortably against his shoulder. He unpaused the tape. "Snoopy dance," she crooned softly and he hugged her closer.
"Think there's any chance you and Tara will get back together?" he asked quietly.
Willow squeezed her eyes shut. "I had thought so, maybe, you know? I mean, doing really good with the magic. Sometimes I patrol with Buffy and she lets me flambé a vamp or two. Oh, and we got a tip from Clem – do you know Clem -- about some freaky demon eating Double Meat Palace drones, and I had to bind it before it ate Buffy. But otherwise I've been spell-less." She forced her eyes open. "But I stopped by the Pump to say hello last week and Tara was there with another girl."
“Clem keeps Anya in reptile bits.” He patted her hand. “Maybe they were just study buddies?”
"Maybe. But I don't normally kiss my study buddies."
"Ouch," he replied quietly.
"Yeah," she agreed.
After a moment he added brightly. "Well, it could be worse. You could have Buffy's love life."
"Poor Buffy. Alone for the holidays. Maybe we should have invited her, too?" she said, but she didn't mean it. She liked having Xander to herself once in a while. Xander gave her an odd look. "What?"
"You don't know," he intoned.
"Don't know what?" she demanded. He shook his head so she gave him her resolve face. "Tell me or I'll tickle it out of you," she threatened.
He told her.
"Wha-- no! You're sure? How do you--"
He explained the circumstances of his discovery.
When her brain was able to process language again she tried to think of something to say. "Wow."
"Yeah."
"So?"
"So what, Wills?" He eyed her suspiciously.
"Is he really compact yet muscular?"
She managed to leap away before he could catch her and then he lunged. Before long she was clutching the kitchen counter breathlessly, trying to wrench herself away from his fingers because he knew her spots as well as she knew his, giggling with him like a pair of naughty kids up past their bedtime, trying to catch Santa in the act.
------------
Dawn lounged in front of the fireplace and yawned, stretched her arms and legs and then curled up. She had a full belly and there was a little fire in her spine from whatever Spike had sloshed into her eggnog when no one else was looking. In the morning there would be presents and omelets. Until then, she had a lot of thinking to do after having overheard Giles and her mom on the phone that afternoon.
Through barely open eyes she could make out the blurry blobs of Spike and Buffy on the couch behind her, knees touching and Spike’s arm on the back of the sofa. Not so much PDA that it would piss Mom off but still really weird to see. It was one thing knowing Buffy was spending naked time with him in theory; it was another thing to have them all snuggle-bunny in the living room.
Tara put on her coat and thanked them for having her. Poor Tara with her horrible family and no special friend to spend the holidays with. Not that she wanted Willow and Tara back together, at least not yet. She was still officially angry with Willow, but she missed Tara. She was glad Buffy had invited her for dinner. It had also helped with the comfort level that Spike wasn’t the only guest at the table.
Buffy sighed and announced that she should walk Spike back to his crypt, but then Mom said he should just stay in the sort of wry tone that clued Dawn in on her mother being up to something. Then Spike was thanking her and Mom was going up the stairs and she could hear Spike whispering something – probably something really depraved – to her sister.
Maybe Spike would know something. She’d found some faxes from the COW in Anya’s ‘to shred’ box, but babelfish had spat out garbage. Spike spoke a bunch of languages, but she wasn’t sure she should get him involved. Could be that Giles’ translation was all wrong, with all that stuff he’d told Mom. But then he had a whole bunch of people working on it.
‘Cause one prophecy said that the twice-dead beloved of the undead would bring forth a child. And the other said that in the time of something-or-other, the Slayer would give birth to legions. Plus some seer or oracle-thingy was griping about how the balance was off and that great evil would find its way into the world. Which— Dawn hadn’t noticed some humungous surplus of good in the world suddenly, and there had been two slayers for years. It was all so confusing and dumb. Why couldn’t prophecies just be straightforward?
Anyway, if Spike was the undead guy in the prediction, he might get really spooked. But then it didn’t say the undead was the dad, just that the mom was loved by some undead one. Maybe it was all crap anyway, because Buffy? Mother to legions? How many was a legion? And vampires were dead, so wasn't their.... stuff dead too?
She turned it all over in her head, half-listening to the sounds of her sister and Spike making out on the couch. Dawn couldn’t quite decide whether that was gross or not. Wondering if they needed to be using protection? Definitely gross.
“Nice of your mum to let me stay,” Spike whispered.
Buffy huffed out a laugh. “Hmm. Nice. Right. You do realize it means you’re totally not getting any tonight.” Dawn clamped down on a snicker.
Spike made a loud noise of protest. “We can be quiet.”
“I can’t.” EW!
“Really not helping, pet.”
Her sister sighed. “For one thing, my mother is in the house and for another…” Dawn felt toes sticking into her ribs and yelped. “Big faker here will be right next door.”
Dawn sat up and gave her sister a big sham of a glare. “Fine, I’m going to bed. Listening to you to suck each other’s mouths off is making me all queasy anyway.” Buffy made a face at her, but Dawn dropped a quick kiss on her temple. “There is that cot in the basement,” she reminded her in a rush. “Merry Christmas!”
-------
Please keep the feedback coming. It feeds the muse :)
Notes about the timeline: I am taking some liberties with how events fell on the calendar. The holidays didn’t get much play in season six after Halloween. I’m sticking them where they work for this story. Characters not my own. No infringements intended. Some dialog borrowed from episodes.
In our eleventh installment Christmas time is here, happiness and cheer.
Chapter Eleven: The Espresso Pump
It was ten minutes after five but Lisa was late, as usual. It didn’t really bother Buffy though. Thanks to the extra pay she had already wrapped up her shopping for everyone. Except Spike. After all, what was a girl to buy for her undead semi-secret lover?
Finally Lisa rushed in, reciting her usual litany of excuses. Buffy just smiled, finished up a grande cappuccino and slipped into the back to ditch her apron and brush her hair. Anya and Xander waved from their table where she’d been half-watching them argue about wedding plans for the last hour or so.
“You guys are still working on the seating chart?” she asked as she took a seat.
“I’m really wondering why we don’t go with open seating,” Xander commented. “Make it a buffet thing.”
Anya rubbed her eyes. “This is exhausting. Aren’t weddings supposed to be fun? This is making me miserable.”
Buffy shrugged. “You could always run off to Vegas. It would probably be cheaper.”
Anya frowned. “That’s what Spike said, too. But it’s important to take your vows in front of friends and loved ones. Isn’t it?” Xander just squeezed his frazzled girl’s shoulders. “By the way, are you two coming to the wedding together? Because if so that’s two less potential ‘and guests’ we have to feed.”
Buffy blinked at them. “I… what?” She felt suddenly like she was in that dream where you show up to class without any clothes on.
“Oh I’m sorry.” Anya sounded exasperated. “Are we still pretending not to know about that? I’m losing track of all the things we can’t talk about.”
Buffy looked at Xander, but Xander was pointedly studying Anya's notebooks. She kept waiting for something to happen, but nothing did. She kept waiting to feel ashamed, but that didn’t happen either. "You're not yelling?" Buffy asked him when it became obvious he wasn’t going to go first. "I thought you'd be all--"
"Not thrilled," Xander admitted. "But, I'm not getting stake-happy either." He raised his gaze to her, and gestured with his eyes toward his fiancé. "You haven't always been crazy about how I handle my love life either. For the record I think this is a terrible idea, but mostly I'm upset that you didn't think you could tell me about it."
She still couldn't quite pick her jaw up. "Xander, I... it's just, I didn't know how to tell you." Disappointing Xander was definitely low on the list of Things Buffy Likes Doing.
"I really wish you'd stop trying to protect me from what's going on in your life, Buff." He shook his head at her when she started to object, and she had to admit he was right. That was exactly what she had been doing. "I really don't want to know the details. Like, at all. You don't either," he said to Anya when her mouth started to open. "Just... be careful."
"Can I take anything for you folks?" a voice boomed behind her shoulder just as Anya mouthed 'later.'
Everyone shook their heads but the busboy continued hovering over her until she said, "We're good, Dennis, thanks." When he was gone she muttered, "God, he creeps me out."
"Lushokites have no sense of personal space, but they are relatively harmless," Anya replied absently as she frowned at some of her papers.
"He's a demon?" Xander asked.
Buffy shrugged. "Yeah, I figured that out pretty quick, but I recognized him from Giles Grimoire of the Benign."
"I promise my wedding guests are mostly harmless as well," Anya assured her. "So please refrain from slaying at the reception."
"Can that count as my present?" Buffy asked glibly. When Anya made a horrified face, she grinned at her. "Just kidding. Sorry, I shouldn't tease the stressed. After all, you did take my recommendation on dresses."
Anya slapped her hands against the table. "Yes, at least one thing has been decided. Only four hundred decisions yet to make."
Buffy gave the pair a sympathetic look. "I'll leave you to it. Good luck."
Xander grabbed her elbow as she reached for her cups. His expression was unreadable. “What?” she asked quietly.
He shrugged. “Nothing. It’s just…. You look good, Buffy.”
“I am,” she agreed. “And if I’m ever, you know, not? I know who I can call.”
Xander yanked the end her scarf playfully and they traded one last smile before she headed out into the chilly evening air. Probably she should eat some dinner, but her other appetites were overriding that urge at the moment and there was only so much time before she needed to patrol.
----------
Spike just finished his mug of blood when she waltzed in after a quick courtesy knock. Still wasn't used to that. Didn't always happen. Of course anymore when she kicked the door, she followed up by tackling him and ripping his clothes off, so he wasn't complaining.
"Tough day at the office today, sweetie?" he asked as she set two cups on his casket countertop.
She smirked at him and pushed one of the cups in his direction. "English Breakfast," she explained. "You don't have to drink it."
The slayer had brought him a cup of hot tea. Chosen because he was English and it was the waking hour for him. She was bloody adorable. He took a sip and found she'd added a little too much honey. He wasn't about to insult her little gift. "You're too good to me."
"I'm really not," she said quietly. She licked her lips. "Xander and Anya know," she announced.
He raised an eyebrow. "That explains something. Come downstairs with me."
"It's toasty down here," she said as she hopped off the ladder. "Um, how did that happen?"
He gestured toward the space heater. "Found that waiting for me when I got in from Willy's last night."
"Someone bought you a heater?" she asked. Quietly she muttered, "I should have thought of that."
"Not exactly. Demon girl left it along with a bill and a note." He dug it out of his back pocket. "Says she's been informed that 'it is appropriate to consider the comfort of guests even when their preferences differ from your own'. Makes a bit more sense now."
She chucked her coat and settled on the rug in front of the heater. He grabbed some pillows off the bed and propped himself up slightly so he could finish his drink in comfort. He stretched his legs out behind her and watched her in profile. Buffy sat with her eyes closed, occasionally crunching an ice cube from her cup.
"Was there a row?" he asked finally. He rolled his empty cup toward a box full of spent bottles.
She shook her head. "Nope." She sounded a bit surprised.
"Disappointed?"
She reached back and shoved his chest a bit. The slayer wasn't much of a cuddler when awake, he'd found. She was more prone to that sort of playful violence than to hand-holding.
Buffy scooted back from the heat and pressed herself against him. "Too hot, Slayer?" When she nodded he fished an ice cube out of her cup of water and pressed it against the back of her neck.
The cold made her tense for a moment, but then she loosened as the small thing quickly melted against her skin. "That's really... nice," she whispered, so he did it again.
"Sweater's getting soaked, Slayer," he pointed out, pleased when she immediately removed it. Then he could watch the water trickle across her skin.
A few more cubes and she turned her head to look at him. Ran a hand up his chest and pressed her palm over his still heart. "You're all warm," she commented.
A number of biting comments about body heat, lack thereof, and her taste in men sprang to the forefront of his mind, but he ignored them. Instead he reached up to unfasten her bra and sat up to press his bare chest against hers. "You're warmer."
He slid another cube down between her breasts and followed the water trail down and then further. She turned slightly pink when he guided one thigh up and over. Before long though she was swept up in it, head lolling and fingers tight in his hair as he tasted her. A flick here, a stroke there, and the space heater casting enough light for a tremendous view of her.
He nudged at her, pushing her until she bent back on her elbows, that glorious hair brushing his cock and the Slayer feeding herself to him. Occasionally he could catch her looking at him with that blissed out expression that never ceased to amaze him. He kept waiting for some disaster to befall, but instead Buffy shivered against him.
When she recovered she edged herself down his chest and settled herself slowly around his cock. He'd expected her to go at him hard, the way she so often did. Instead, she flexed her muscles around him, moving slow and steady until he practically dissolved within her. He clutched at her thighs, struggling for some semblance of control. She covered his hands with hers and pushed his arms back until she held him pinned to the floor. He could hear his own lost sound as his hips began to buck without his consent.
"Spike. You look amazing like this," she whispered shyly. And that was all it took.
They dressed slowly. "Will you come to the house on Christmas Eve? Mom's expecting you for dinner."
He blinked at her dumbly for a moment. Holiday dinner with the family? He was completely domesticated. He could not possibly care less. "Nothing better comes up," he gave as an answer.
She rolled her eyes and squeezed his hand briefly. "Come on, let's go kill something."
--------
"...So she's all 'tremble masculine one and prepare to feel my wrath'. It was extremely unnerving."
Willow laughed around a mouthful of caramel corn. "But you guys have met before, right? Weren't you telling me she keeps calling you the 'boy with the muscular forearms'?"
"Man, thank you. The man with the muscular forearms."
"Well, at least it's apt."
Xander grinned at her. "Anyway, she got Anya's message confused with a summons I guess. And let me say, vein face? Not a good look."
Willow nodded and offered him some more popcorn. He waved it off and patted his slowly shrinking gut. "So it doesn't bother you that she's spending a few days with the vengeance crew?"
"Oh, it bothers me. It bothers me a lot that D'Hoffryn is going to sorta be my father-in-law. Also not so pleased that she's spending three days with a bunch of demons who are going to try to talk her out of marrying me."
"Not gonna happen, bub." She firmly clamped down on the voice telling her that it wouldn't be so bad if they succeeded. "Anyway, I'm kinda glad. Gives us one last chance for our own holiday tradition."
Xander pressed a socked foot against her own. "What do you mean, Wills? You won't do Christmas Eve with me once I'm an old married guy?"
She pressed back. "You and Anya will have your own stuff. And maybe even kids, like, many many years from now. You're not going to have time for me."
"That's so not true. I'm always gonna have time for you." He gave her that Xander smile. "And even if and when there are kids, you'll be witchy Aunt Willow who buys them Hanukkah socks, or solstice socks, or whatever. And they'll watch Charlie Brown with us."
"I know it's dumb," she said quietly. "And I'm really happy for you, 'cause I know you love Anya even if I totally don't understand it--"
"Well that's good," he teased. "Wouldn't want you macking on my girl."
She whapped his knee with her foot. His joking with her was making her even sadder. She was so selfish sometimes. What was the matter with her?
But as usual, Xander was reading her loud and clear. He paused the tape and stared at the frozen image of Charlie's tree while he spoke. "You know, I think it made it easier on me, you being into girls. It's like... I still get to be the man in your life."
"You are, you know," she agreed. She struggled for a way to explain it. "I know it's stupid, but I'm jealous. I mean -- gay now, but I can barely remember when you weren't in my life."
"Still gonna be in your life, Wills."
She managed a weak smile. "Losing Oz was really hard and loosing Tara? Hello to the pain. But you better stick around, buster, because I really don't know how I would deal."
Xander pulled her in close and kissed her forehead. "Guess I'll have to stick around then."
She settled comfortably against his shoulder. He unpaused the tape. "Snoopy dance," she crooned softly and he hugged her closer.
"Think there's any chance you and Tara will get back together?" he asked quietly.
Willow squeezed her eyes shut. "I had thought so, maybe, you know? I mean, doing really good with the magic. Sometimes I patrol with Buffy and she lets me flambé a vamp or two. Oh, and we got a tip from Clem – do you know Clem -- about some freaky demon eating Double Meat Palace drones, and I had to bind it before it ate Buffy. But otherwise I've been spell-less." She forced her eyes open. "But I stopped by the Pump to say hello last week and Tara was there with another girl."
“Clem keeps Anya in reptile bits.” He patted her hand. “Maybe they were just study buddies?”
"Maybe. But I don't normally kiss my study buddies."
"Ouch," he replied quietly.
"Yeah," she agreed.
After a moment he added brightly. "Well, it could be worse. You could have Buffy's love life."
"Poor Buffy. Alone for the holidays. Maybe we should have invited her, too?" she said, but she didn't mean it. She liked having Xander to herself once in a while. Xander gave her an odd look. "What?"
"You don't know," he intoned.
"Don't know what?" she demanded. He shook his head so she gave him her resolve face. "Tell me or I'll tickle it out of you," she threatened.
He told her.
"Wha-- no! You're sure? How do you--"
He explained the circumstances of his discovery.
When her brain was able to process language again she tried to think of something to say. "Wow."
"Yeah."
"So?"
"So what, Wills?" He eyed her suspiciously.
"Is he really compact yet muscular?"
She managed to leap away before he could catch her and then he lunged. Before long she was clutching the kitchen counter breathlessly, trying to wrench herself away from his fingers because he knew her spots as well as she knew his, giggling with him like a pair of naughty kids up past their bedtime, trying to catch Santa in the act.
------------
Dawn lounged in front of the fireplace and yawned, stretched her arms and legs and then curled up. She had a full belly and there was a little fire in her spine from whatever Spike had sloshed into her eggnog when no one else was looking. In the morning there would be presents and omelets. Until then, she had a lot of thinking to do after having overheard Giles and her mom on the phone that afternoon.
Through barely open eyes she could make out the blurry blobs of Spike and Buffy on the couch behind her, knees touching and Spike’s arm on the back of the sofa. Not so much PDA that it would piss Mom off but still really weird to see. It was one thing knowing Buffy was spending naked time with him in theory; it was another thing to have them all snuggle-bunny in the living room.
Tara put on her coat and thanked them for having her. Poor Tara with her horrible family and no special friend to spend the holidays with. Not that she wanted Willow and Tara back together, at least not yet. She was still officially angry with Willow, but she missed Tara. She was glad Buffy had invited her for dinner. It had also helped with the comfort level that Spike wasn’t the only guest at the table.
Buffy sighed and announced that she should walk Spike back to his crypt, but then Mom said he should just stay in the sort of wry tone that clued Dawn in on her mother being up to something. Then Spike was thanking her and Mom was going up the stairs and she could hear Spike whispering something – probably something really depraved – to her sister.
Maybe Spike would know something. She’d found some faxes from the COW in Anya’s ‘to shred’ box, but babelfish had spat out garbage. Spike spoke a bunch of languages, but she wasn’t sure she should get him involved. Could be that Giles’ translation was all wrong, with all that stuff he’d told Mom. But then he had a whole bunch of people working on it.
‘Cause one prophecy said that the twice-dead beloved of the undead would bring forth a child. And the other said that in the time of something-or-other, the Slayer would give birth to legions. Plus some seer or oracle-thingy was griping about how the balance was off and that great evil would find its way into the world. Which— Dawn hadn’t noticed some humungous surplus of good in the world suddenly, and there had been two slayers for years. It was all so confusing and dumb. Why couldn’t prophecies just be straightforward?
Anyway, if Spike was the undead guy in the prediction, he might get really spooked. But then it didn’t say the undead was the dad, just that the mom was loved by some undead one. Maybe it was all crap anyway, because Buffy? Mother to legions? How many was a legion? And vampires were dead, so wasn't their.... stuff dead too?
She turned it all over in her head, half-listening to the sounds of her sister and Spike making out on the couch. Dawn couldn’t quite decide whether that was gross or not. Wondering if they needed to be using protection? Definitely gross.
“Nice of your mum to let me stay,” Spike whispered.
Buffy huffed out a laugh. “Hmm. Nice. Right. You do realize it means you’re totally not getting any tonight.” Dawn clamped down on a snicker.
Spike made a loud noise of protest. “We can be quiet.”
“I can’t.” EW!
“Really not helping, pet.”
Her sister sighed. “For one thing, my mother is in the house and for another…” Dawn felt toes sticking into her ribs and yelped. “Big faker here will be right next door.”
Dawn sat up and gave her sister a big sham of a glare. “Fine, I’m going to bed. Listening to you to suck each other’s mouths off is making me all queasy anyway.” Buffy made a face at her, but Dawn dropped a quick kiss on her temple. “There is that cot in the basement,” she reminded her in a rush. “Merry Christmas!”
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Please keep the feedback coming. It feeds the muse :)
Dead Things
Author’s Notes: Thanks as always to Kar and my reviewers. This one was tough for some reason, but I’m already two scenes into the next chapter so hopefully the gap will be shorter. I am delighted to be the featured challenge response on BSV! Please keep the feedback coming. I will also admit that I have not watched AtS, so if the timeline doesn’t work well, I apologize. This was what worked for my story…
In our twelfth installment Buffy gets framed for a murder.
Chapter Twelve: Dead Things
“Well, that was…”
“Yeah. I’m not sure I can move.”
“Good.”
“No, no. Not good.” She sighed and ran her fingers across her sweaty forehead. The sheets were stuck to the backs of her knees. “We have to start doing this after patrol.”
She felt him combing his fingers through her hair. “Start? That is the usual plan, pet. Did I damage something?” he asked playfully. "Knock something loose in there?"
Buffy batted his hand away from her head, which he was pretending to inspect for damage. He could be so playful in bed sometimes. She hadn't expected that and still wasn't used to it. In some ways it was easier to deal with than when he got all lovey-dovey; in other ways it was even weirder.
“No, I mean after only.” Buffy managed to sit up and pulled the sheet up to her neck. Spike immediately yanked it back down and ogled her breasts with exaggerated glee. “Or is that your sinister plan? Shag me ‘til I’m too tired to slay properly.”
“Yes Slayer, you have uncovered my dastardly scheme.” His smiles were much sweeter lately. He handed over her underwear and watched her put them on. Suddenly his demeanor turned serious. “You’re right though. Can’t have you off your game out there.” He turned away from her and yanked his jeans to his hips. “Couldn’t bear it if something happened to you, especially on account of me. Again.”
“Spike.” She didn’t really know what else to say. She kissed his naked shoulder and dug into her duffel bag to pick out the night’s armaments. When she looked up, he was fully dressed and back to leering at her, checking out her ass as she leaned over as though he hadn't just seen it naked ten minutes ago.
It was a quiet patrol. Two vamps lurking near The Bronze and a brief run-in with Dennis and some of his pals behind the Espresso Pump. They confiscated what turned out to be shitake mushrooms. Made her feel kinda stupid about her whole ‘Dr. Feelgood’ lecture when it turned out to be something available in the produce aisle. “Lushokites are mad for them,” Spike explained with a shrug and told her sometimes even demons that could pass as human were leery of getting to close to people.
They were heading back to the crypt when Buffy saw three shapes out of the corner of her eye. A woman screamed. Buffy raced toward the sound. Suddenly she was being attacked. She tried fighting them off, but they were everywhere at once, and each time she blinked the scene seemed to change. Time seemed to be speeding and slowing whenever she turned around.
She struck one of the demons.
“What was that for?” She was looking at Spike, on the ground, clutching his jaw.
Another scream. She saw something run and she chased after it. One hooded creature brushed against her and she grabbed it. With a sharp twist, she cracked its neck. Then she was staring into the dead eyes of a woman. Then her arms were empty and there was a crash as body rolled down into the creek.
“Oh my God!”
Spike had her by the shoulders. “Buffy, Buffy, Slayer, what the hell just happened?”
“I killed her.” She felt stunned, the wind knocked out of her. “I killed her.”
“Killed who, love? There’s no one here.”
“In the ravine,” she husked, waving vaguely in that direction. She couldn’t stand to look.
She heard Spike’s sharp inhale when he saw the body. Then his hands were back on her shoulders. “You didn’t kill anyone.”
“I did. I felt it. I snapped her neck.”
He disappeared from her line of sight for a few minutes. What was he doing? Was he hiding the body? Draining it? Oh god, what had she done? What was she doing?
There was no blood on his face, not even the scent of it when he reappeared. “I'm gonna get you home.”
”No! I have to… I have to report it or--” She couldn’t quite think. She had killed a girl. Her stomach rolled and she stumbled.
Spike caught her. She jerked away and slugged him hard before toddling toward the gates on unsteady feet. "I have to go, I have to," she repeated to herself.
He caught up with her almost immediately and held her tight to him. “Are you out of your bloody mind?” He was roaring at her. “You listen to me, Slayer. You didn’t do a damn thing. Do you hear me? Now I’m gonna get you home, and you're gonna crawl in your warm comfy bed and stay there till I sort this out.” His voice softened and he brushed the hair out of her face. “Trust me.”
She wanted desperately to believe him, that it was a mistake, that she hadn't done anything. But she had felt it, felt the bones give, heard them snap. Even knowing he was wrong, she let him dig her keys out of her pocket and wrapped her arms around his waist as he turned the engine over. The rushing air dried her face and when they pulled into the drive she slid off the bike and managed to make it to the bushes before she heaved.
---------
There wasn’t enough alcohol in his system. Maybe not enough in the whole fucking bar. Even with the most incredible rumors circulating through the patronage, all he could really hear were her accusations over and over again. You can’t understand why this is killing me! It’s just another body to you! You are dead inside! What more did she bloody want from him? Wasn’t hunting people, eating people, stealing from people—now he had to give a toss about total strangers too? Had to care about some girl was dead more than he cared about his girl? Not bloody likely.
It was an accident, had to be. Time going all loopy and how did she even get her hands around the girl in the first place? Humans had some word for this, right? Couldn’t quite locate the phrase at the moment, but he was fairly certain he’d seen it in some Law and Order rerun. Cop doing his duty and some innocent gets in the line of fire. Was all that had happened, but the Sunnydale PD was unlikely to agree.
Buffy wasn’t hearing it; yelling at the three of them about how she wasn’t Faith and that even if it was an accident it was her fault and she had to be responsible. Poor Joyce trying to calm her down and Dawn looking absolutely terrified. None of them able to dissuade her. Joyce had called in Red and Harris, but he didn’t see what good it would do. Slayer was determined to throw herself away.
When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he’d slammed out of the house. That was who knew how many hours ago now. Probably the last time he’d ever see her. Tear-streaked face all hard and closed, the smell of sick, shouting at him.
Except that she was sliding into the booth across from him, with her most severe expression on. “Came to say good-bye, then?” He hefted the bottle, but her hand grasped his wrist with Slayer firmness.
“No, I came to take you home. Clem called me.” She wrinkled her nose at the array of bottles littering the table. “Did you drink all of these?”
“Can’t help noticing you’re not in the clink,” he pointed out gruffly. Truth was his every atom was humming with hope that someone had finally made her see reason.
Buffy sighed and took the bottle out of his loose grip. “Turns out, I didn’t kill her. Vince, this guy that works with Xander, his brother is a cop. Someone cracked her skull. The neck was post-mortem. She was Warren’s ex and the David Lynch time scramble – the dork squad put me through that before.”
She took a hefty swig, winced, made that marvelous ‘blurg’ noise of hers, and sighed. “We cleared their previous lair out and I have no idea where they’re holed up now. Our best guess is they killed her on accident and decided it would be big fun to pin it on me.” She swirled the contents of the bottle and eyed it warily. “Almost worked,” she whispered.
Spike had no idea what to say to that. After a moment he managed to change the topic. “Guess you heard the bulletin goin’ round tonight?”
He watched her carefully as she answered. “About the magic baby in LA? Yeah, I heard.” She hoisted the bottle and took another swallow. “To poor, poor Connor. Is that a family name?”
Spike scanned her features. “Was his before he was turned, yeah.” He was more than a little surprised that she didn’t know this. “Thought he dusted Darla, years back.”
“Yeah, for me.” She shrugged. “Guess she got over it.” In a number of ways, he guessed. Buffy shoved the bottle to the far corner of the table. “Could we not talk about it right now? We need to get you home before the sun comes up.”
He staggered to his feet. She was somehow under his arm a beat later. He had the faintest glimmer of hope that he looked, to the assorted demons in the place, like he was just being possessive rather than intensely in need of support to maintain his footing. Outside she fumbled in his duster pockets for his keys.
“There’s no way you’re driving like this, but we need to hurry.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “This has been the longest night.”
“Can take care of myself, Slayer. Do it all the time,” he carped at her, feeling foolish for it before the words even hit the air.
“Well I’d rather you and everyone else on the road stayed in one piece, thanks.” He huffed, but wrapped his arms around her dutifully. Love's bitch as always. Once she was on the road he let one hand wander up under her shirt. He was still cupping her breast when she pulled into his spot near the gate. He couldn’t really remember the ride over, but he could feel dawn slipping up on them.
There was frost on the grass and the bedroom was cold. She cranked up the heater before stripping him in an oddly businesslike way. Seemed a bit startled by what she found underneath. “Spike, you had, like, eight gallons of booze tonight. Shouldn’t you be, you know, impaired?”
He managed to leer at her, but somewhat diminished the effect by nearly toppling into a trunk. Buffy just sighed and wrapped him up in her Christmas present, a big blue flannel robe. Just in case anyone else came looking for her, she’d said, he could wear more than a sheet. He had to admit that it felt awfully cozy at the moment.
The Slayer riffled through his dresser and pulled her own clothes off before putting on what instantly became his favorite t-shirt. She nudged him toward the bed and crawled in after him. With the covers up around them, he laid his head on her chest.
“If you’re gonna hurl, just warn me,” she requested wryly.
“Not gonna hurl, Buffy,” he grumbled. “Can hold my liquor.”
“Right. I forgot. Expert binger. That’s my Spike.” Her Spike. Her fingernails skimmed his scalp. He snuggled closer and she looped her arm around him. Apparently the Slayer was cuddlesome when the mood struck. To think he’d nearly lost all this and to a trio of college kids. It was unfathomable.
“You asleep?” she asked after a moment. By way of reply, he nipped the underside of her breast. “Guess that’s a no.” Her nails stroked his head again. “There was a lot of yelling tonight and I think I even remember some hitting,” she said quietly, “but I do know how hard you’re trying.”
This, it seemed, was an apology of sorts for smacking him in the graveyard and calling him a monster. Delivered as it was, with her lips against his skin and his head pillowed on her body, he’d take it.
------------
Joyce passed the potatoes to Dawn and tried to think of another conversational gambit that wouldn’t lead to a screaming fight with either of her daughters. The presence of Tara at the table helped immensely. Yet another reason to keep inviting the girl for these weekly family dinners.
Buffy cleared her throat. "So, Wesley finally returned my phone call," she announced. Joyce was a bit surprised that her daughter was openly bringing up the situation in Los Angeles. Buffy had told her in passing a week ago about Angel's son, but avoided her every effort to draw her out on the subject.
"So?" Dawn prompted. "Any clue about how a couple of dead things managed to make a live baby?"
Buffy grimaced. "They're still working on it." She carved a wave into her mashed potatoes. "Darla's dust. Again."
"So Angel is a single dad?" Dawn mused happily. "Poor kid."
Joyce shot her younger daughter a warning glance, but Buffy didn't seem upset by the remark. "Wes says he's just a normal baby boy. I think he and Cordelia are helping Angel take care of him."
"But, you, um, haven't heard anything from Angel?" Tara ventured cautiously.
"No," Buffy replied, the slightest touch of anger edging into her tone. "I don't think he wanted me to know about any of this." She cut viciously into her chicken breast. "So I'm not going to go intruding into his life. He made it pretty clear how he feels about me encroaching on his turf."
"Buffy," Joyce sighed.
"Mom. Really. I'm okay," she insisted, in a tone that made it clear she was anything but.
"Anyway, what do you care what Angel's doing?" Dawn asked blithely. "You're with Spike now."
"Right," Buffy agreed with indecipherable firmness. Was she trying to convince herself, or was she really that certain? "Right."
Except, Joyce knew, a large part of her was still infatuated with the absent vampire. Whom she herself had helped run off, in part because he could not give her daughter children. You had to love the irony.
After dinner she happily left the clearing and cleaning to the girls. She'd call Giles in the morning. One mysterious prophecy illuminated, no telling how many more to puzzle out. When she came into the kitchen later for a glass of water, Tara and Buffy were out on the back porch. She knew she shouldn't eavesdrop, but Buffy wasn't opening up to her, and she was increasingly anxious about her state of mind.
"Really, I'm okay, Tara," her daughter insisted.
"You know, Buffy, it's okay to not be okay."
A small chuckle. "It does hurt, a little, you know. It's just... I guess it means it's really over. Like, over over."
"I'm... not really following you. I mean, I know the Angel story second-hand from Willow, but I don't really know the details. I thought you two hadn't really seen each other since he left town"
"Well, before it was like I could tell myself he left because we couldn't really be together, in, you know, a man-woman way and that it was this big heroic sacrifice he was making. I mean, he was all about me and my normal life, which: dumb. But compared to his multi-century existence, I got it. And it's like it was too much temptation to be near each other and not..." Her daughter sighed deeply.
"But apparently he found some way around that and didn't feel like sharing with me. Which means really he's just another guy who couldn't deal with the whole flawed Buffy package and bolted."
"Buffy--"
"And that hurts, but it's an old hurt, kinda. In a few days it will just be an old scar again. And I still love him, but, you know, not the way I used to."
"What about Spike?"
"What about Spike?"
"Can he handle the whole Buffy package?" At Buffy's laugh, Tara amended, "That sounded less dirty in my head."
There was a long silence before her daughter answered quietly. "Maybe. There's all these things he doesn't understand about me. Like when I thought I'd killed Katrina and he could not get what it meant to me. And then other times, it's like no one has ever understood me the way he does."
"Well, that's good, right?" Tara ventured.
"Good. Yeah. I guess so. But also kinda creepy. 'Cause I think part of why he gets the Slayer stuff is because he used to hunt us for sport. But he gets the Buffy parts, too. Like, Angel was so hung up on me being normal and Riley got all freaked because I'm Supergirl. Spike..."
Her daughter's voice turned fond and wistful; Joyce clenched against the sinking feeling in her gut.
"Spike loves all of me."
Joyce drank two tumblers of water in quick succession and pressed the cool glass to her forehead. Buffy was falling in love with a vampire. Again.
In our twelfth installment Buffy gets framed for a murder.
Chapter Twelve: Dead Things
“Well, that was…”
“Yeah. I’m not sure I can move.”
“Good.”
“No, no. Not good.” She sighed and ran her fingers across her sweaty forehead. The sheets were stuck to the backs of her knees. “We have to start doing this after patrol.”
She felt him combing his fingers through her hair. “Start? That is the usual plan, pet. Did I damage something?” he asked playfully. "Knock something loose in there?"
Buffy batted his hand away from her head, which he was pretending to inspect for damage. He could be so playful in bed sometimes. She hadn't expected that and still wasn't used to it. In some ways it was easier to deal with than when he got all lovey-dovey; in other ways it was even weirder.
“No, I mean after only.” Buffy managed to sit up and pulled the sheet up to her neck. Spike immediately yanked it back down and ogled her breasts with exaggerated glee. “Or is that your sinister plan? Shag me ‘til I’m too tired to slay properly.”
“Yes Slayer, you have uncovered my dastardly scheme.” His smiles were much sweeter lately. He handed over her underwear and watched her put them on. Suddenly his demeanor turned serious. “You’re right though. Can’t have you off your game out there.” He turned away from her and yanked his jeans to his hips. “Couldn’t bear it if something happened to you, especially on account of me. Again.”
“Spike.” She didn’t really know what else to say. She kissed his naked shoulder and dug into her duffel bag to pick out the night’s armaments. When she looked up, he was fully dressed and back to leering at her, checking out her ass as she leaned over as though he hadn't just seen it naked ten minutes ago.
It was a quiet patrol. Two vamps lurking near The Bronze and a brief run-in with Dennis and some of his pals behind the Espresso Pump. They confiscated what turned out to be shitake mushrooms. Made her feel kinda stupid about her whole ‘Dr. Feelgood’ lecture when it turned out to be something available in the produce aisle. “Lushokites are mad for them,” Spike explained with a shrug and told her sometimes even demons that could pass as human were leery of getting to close to people.
They were heading back to the crypt when Buffy saw three shapes out of the corner of her eye. A woman screamed. Buffy raced toward the sound. Suddenly she was being attacked. She tried fighting them off, but they were everywhere at once, and each time she blinked the scene seemed to change. Time seemed to be speeding and slowing whenever she turned around.
She struck one of the demons.
“What was that for?” She was looking at Spike, on the ground, clutching his jaw.
Another scream. She saw something run and she chased after it. One hooded creature brushed against her and she grabbed it. With a sharp twist, she cracked its neck. Then she was staring into the dead eyes of a woman. Then her arms were empty and there was a crash as body rolled down into the creek.
“Oh my God!”
Spike had her by the shoulders. “Buffy, Buffy, Slayer, what the hell just happened?”
“I killed her.” She felt stunned, the wind knocked out of her. “I killed her.”
“Killed who, love? There’s no one here.”
“In the ravine,” she husked, waving vaguely in that direction. She couldn’t stand to look.
She heard Spike’s sharp inhale when he saw the body. Then his hands were back on her shoulders. “You didn’t kill anyone.”
“I did. I felt it. I snapped her neck.”
He disappeared from her line of sight for a few minutes. What was he doing? Was he hiding the body? Draining it? Oh god, what had she done? What was she doing?
There was no blood on his face, not even the scent of it when he reappeared. “I'm gonna get you home.”
”No! I have to… I have to report it or--” She couldn’t quite think. She had killed a girl. Her stomach rolled and she stumbled.
Spike caught her. She jerked away and slugged him hard before toddling toward the gates on unsteady feet. "I have to go, I have to," she repeated to herself.
He caught up with her almost immediately and held her tight to him. “Are you out of your bloody mind?” He was roaring at her. “You listen to me, Slayer. You didn’t do a damn thing. Do you hear me? Now I’m gonna get you home, and you're gonna crawl in your warm comfy bed and stay there till I sort this out.” His voice softened and he brushed the hair out of her face. “Trust me.”
She wanted desperately to believe him, that it was a mistake, that she hadn't done anything. But she had felt it, felt the bones give, heard them snap. Even knowing he was wrong, she let him dig her keys out of her pocket and wrapped her arms around his waist as he turned the engine over. The rushing air dried her face and when they pulled into the drive she slid off the bike and managed to make it to the bushes before she heaved.
---------
There wasn’t enough alcohol in his system. Maybe not enough in the whole fucking bar. Even with the most incredible rumors circulating through the patronage, all he could really hear were her accusations over and over again. You can’t understand why this is killing me! It’s just another body to you! You are dead inside! What more did she bloody want from him? Wasn’t hunting people, eating people, stealing from people—now he had to give a toss about total strangers too? Had to care about some girl was dead more than he cared about his girl? Not bloody likely.
It was an accident, had to be. Time going all loopy and how did she even get her hands around the girl in the first place? Humans had some word for this, right? Couldn’t quite locate the phrase at the moment, but he was fairly certain he’d seen it in some Law and Order rerun. Cop doing his duty and some innocent gets in the line of fire. Was all that had happened, but the Sunnydale PD was unlikely to agree.
Buffy wasn’t hearing it; yelling at the three of them about how she wasn’t Faith and that even if it was an accident it was her fault and she had to be responsible. Poor Joyce trying to calm her down and Dawn looking absolutely terrified. None of them able to dissuade her. Joyce had called in Red and Harris, but he didn’t see what good it would do. Slayer was determined to throw herself away.
When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he’d slammed out of the house. That was who knew how many hours ago now. Probably the last time he’d ever see her. Tear-streaked face all hard and closed, the smell of sick, shouting at him.
Except that she was sliding into the booth across from him, with her most severe expression on. “Came to say good-bye, then?” He hefted the bottle, but her hand grasped his wrist with Slayer firmness.
“No, I came to take you home. Clem called me.” She wrinkled her nose at the array of bottles littering the table. “Did you drink all of these?”
“Can’t help noticing you’re not in the clink,” he pointed out gruffly. Truth was his every atom was humming with hope that someone had finally made her see reason.
Buffy sighed and took the bottle out of his loose grip. “Turns out, I didn’t kill her. Vince, this guy that works with Xander, his brother is a cop. Someone cracked her skull. The neck was post-mortem. She was Warren’s ex and the David Lynch time scramble – the dork squad put me through that before.”
She took a hefty swig, winced, made that marvelous ‘blurg’ noise of hers, and sighed. “We cleared their previous lair out and I have no idea where they’re holed up now. Our best guess is they killed her on accident and decided it would be big fun to pin it on me.” She swirled the contents of the bottle and eyed it warily. “Almost worked,” she whispered.
Spike had no idea what to say to that. After a moment he managed to change the topic. “Guess you heard the bulletin goin’ round tonight?”
He watched her carefully as she answered. “About the magic baby in LA? Yeah, I heard.” She hoisted the bottle and took another swallow. “To poor, poor Connor. Is that a family name?”
Spike scanned her features. “Was his before he was turned, yeah.” He was more than a little surprised that she didn’t know this. “Thought he dusted Darla, years back.”
“Yeah, for me.” She shrugged. “Guess she got over it.” In a number of ways, he guessed. Buffy shoved the bottle to the far corner of the table. “Could we not talk about it right now? We need to get you home before the sun comes up.”
He staggered to his feet. She was somehow under his arm a beat later. He had the faintest glimmer of hope that he looked, to the assorted demons in the place, like he was just being possessive rather than intensely in need of support to maintain his footing. Outside she fumbled in his duster pockets for his keys.
“There’s no way you’re driving like this, but we need to hurry.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “This has been the longest night.”
“Can take care of myself, Slayer. Do it all the time,” he carped at her, feeling foolish for it before the words even hit the air.
“Well I’d rather you and everyone else on the road stayed in one piece, thanks.” He huffed, but wrapped his arms around her dutifully. Love's bitch as always. Once she was on the road he let one hand wander up under her shirt. He was still cupping her breast when she pulled into his spot near the gate. He couldn’t really remember the ride over, but he could feel dawn slipping up on them.
There was frost on the grass and the bedroom was cold. She cranked up the heater before stripping him in an oddly businesslike way. Seemed a bit startled by what she found underneath. “Spike, you had, like, eight gallons of booze tonight. Shouldn’t you be, you know, impaired?”
He managed to leer at her, but somewhat diminished the effect by nearly toppling into a trunk. Buffy just sighed and wrapped him up in her Christmas present, a big blue flannel robe. Just in case anyone else came looking for her, she’d said, he could wear more than a sheet. He had to admit that it felt awfully cozy at the moment.
The Slayer riffled through his dresser and pulled her own clothes off before putting on what instantly became his favorite t-shirt. She nudged him toward the bed and crawled in after him. With the covers up around them, he laid his head on her chest.
“If you’re gonna hurl, just warn me,” she requested wryly.
“Not gonna hurl, Buffy,” he grumbled. “Can hold my liquor.”
“Right. I forgot. Expert binger. That’s my Spike.” Her Spike. Her fingernails skimmed his scalp. He snuggled closer and she looped her arm around him. Apparently the Slayer was cuddlesome when the mood struck. To think he’d nearly lost all this and to a trio of college kids. It was unfathomable.
“You asleep?” she asked after a moment. By way of reply, he nipped the underside of her breast. “Guess that’s a no.” Her nails stroked his head again. “There was a lot of yelling tonight and I think I even remember some hitting,” she said quietly, “but I do know how hard you’re trying.”
This, it seemed, was an apology of sorts for smacking him in the graveyard and calling him a monster. Delivered as it was, with her lips against his skin and his head pillowed on her body, he’d take it.
------------
Joyce passed the potatoes to Dawn and tried to think of another conversational gambit that wouldn’t lead to a screaming fight with either of her daughters. The presence of Tara at the table helped immensely. Yet another reason to keep inviting the girl for these weekly family dinners.
Buffy cleared her throat. "So, Wesley finally returned my phone call," she announced. Joyce was a bit surprised that her daughter was openly bringing up the situation in Los Angeles. Buffy had told her in passing a week ago about Angel's son, but avoided her every effort to draw her out on the subject.
"So?" Dawn prompted. "Any clue about how a couple of dead things managed to make a live baby?"
Buffy grimaced. "They're still working on it." She carved a wave into her mashed potatoes. "Darla's dust. Again."
"So Angel is a single dad?" Dawn mused happily. "Poor kid."
Joyce shot her younger daughter a warning glance, but Buffy didn't seem upset by the remark. "Wes says he's just a normal baby boy. I think he and Cordelia are helping Angel take care of him."
"But, you, um, haven't heard anything from Angel?" Tara ventured cautiously.
"No," Buffy replied, the slightest touch of anger edging into her tone. "I don't think he wanted me to know about any of this." She cut viciously into her chicken breast. "So I'm not going to go intruding into his life. He made it pretty clear how he feels about me encroaching on his turf."
"Buffy," Joyce sighed.
"Mom. Really. I'm okay," she insisted, in a tone that made it clear she was anything but.
"Anyway, what do you care what Angel's doing?" Dawn asked blithely. "You're with Spike now."
"Right," Buffy agreed with indecipherable firmness. Was she trying to convince herself, or was she really that certain? "Right."
Except, Joyce knew, a large part of her was still infatuated with the absent vampire. Whom she herself had helped run off, in part because he could not give her daughter children. You had to love the irony.
After dinner she happily left the clearing and cleaning to the girls. She'd call Giles in the morning. One mysterious prophecy illuminated, no telling how many more to puzzle out. When she came into the kitchen later for a glass of water, Tara and Buffy were out on the back porch. She knew she shouldn't eavesdrop, but Buffy wasn't opening up to her, and she was increasingly anxious about her state of mind.
"Really, I'm okay, Tara," her daughter insisted.
"You know, Buffy, it's okay to not be okay."
A small chuckle. "It does hurt, a little, you know. It's just... I guess it means it's really over. Like, over over."
"I'm... not really following you. I mean, I know the Angel story second-hand from Willow, but I don't really know the details. I thought you two hadn't really seen each other since he left town"
"Well, before it was like I could tell myself he left because we couldn't really be together, in, you know, a man-woman way and that it was this big heroic sacrifice he was making. I mean, he was all about me and my normal life, which: dumb. But compared to his multi-century existence, I got it. And it's like it was too much temptation to be near each other and not..." Her daughter sighed deeply.
"But apparently he found some way around that and didn't feel like sharing with me. Which means really he's just another guy who couldn't deal with the whole flawed Buffy package and bolted."
"Buffy--"
"And that hurts, but it's an old hurt, kinda. In a few days it will just be an old scar again. And I still love him, but, you know, not the way I used to."
"What about Spike?"
"What about Spike?"
"Can he handle the whole Buffy package?" At Buffy's laugh, Tara amended, "That sounded less dirty in my head."
There was a long silence before her daughter answered quietly. "Maybe. There's all these things he doesn't understand about me. Like when I thought I'd killed Katrina and he could not get what it meant to me. And then other times, it's like no one has ever understood me the way he does."
"Well, that's good, right?" Tara ventured.
"Good. Yeah. I guess so. But also kinda creepy. 'Cause I think part of why he gets the Slayer stuff is because he used to hunt us for sport. But he gets the Buffy parts, too. Like, Angel was so hung up on me being normal and Riley got all freaked because I'm Supergirl. Spike..."
Her daughter's voice turned fond and wistful; Joyce clenched against the sinking feeling in her gut.
"Spike loves all of me."
Joyce drank two tumblers of water in quick succession and pressed the cool glass to her forehead. Buffy was falling in love with a vampire. Again.
Older and Closer
Author’s Notes: Thanks to Kar and my wonderful reviewers. This chapter starts a number of things moving along. And also, unlike last chapter, has some graphic Spuffy lovin’. Please keep the feedback coming. I’ve started on fourteen already and hopefully it will be drafted soon.
Some dialog recycled from the show, Robert Frost, and The Ramones.
In our thirteen installment Dawn ponders the nature of the beast, it’s Buffy’s birthday, and the Slayer dreams.
Chapter Thirteen: Older and Closer
She wasn’t asleep when Clem called. She didn’t think any of them slept last night. When Buffy had staggered out of her room and practically run her sister over, Dawn asked why she was bothering to go after Spike if he was such an unfeeling monster. Yeah, she had gotten a teensy bit irritated with Buffy. Spike was just trying to help, and they all thought her 'go directly to jail' plan was way stupid, but Spike was the one who’d gotten screamed at all night.
“He’s my monster,” had been her sister’s solemn reply.
Now Dawn’s English teacher was droning on about Shakespeare and Romeo and Juliet and blee blah blue. She was supposed to write a paper about it, but really she would rather be puzzling out something way more interesting than a soapy teen romance with swords. Why is Spike different from other vampires? Compare/contrast in a five paragraph essay. But first she needed a thesis statement.
Spike loved. She was pretty sure Angelus didn’t love. Or maybe he’d loved Darla, but he hated pretty strongly. Women especially. She was one hundred percent certain of that. Drusilla loved too, kind of, so that wasn’t enough to make Spike different. Spike was so dedicated with his love though, even when it wasn't returned.
Devotion. She remembered him in their basement, drunk and babbling in the weeks after the funeral, before Giles put her and Mom in his care and gave him a purpose again. Going on about his mother and Drusilla and how all he’d wanted was to make them happy. Oh, and all that bull about being some sort of orphaned pick-pocket? Whatever. He was such a bad liar. Giles Junior with a pathetic, poetic streak. Not that she’d be letting anyone in on that little discovery.
Well, maybe she’d tell Buffy about the poems. She thought Angel was all arty, right? He’d gotten her that book of sonnets year ago and she’d acted like it was the neato-keenest. If she went that nuts for poems, it followed that she’d go even crazier over a poet. Not that there was any use in applying logic to Buffy’s love life.
Anyway, the vampire was a twist on its host, or at least that’s what Giles and his books said. So maybe they were right. Maybe in Spike’s case his devotion got twisted all around into the whole stalker-obsession thing. So when it was Drusilla he was all throat ripping and Slayer killing and putting up with her ho-baggery. And now he’d devoted himself to Buffy, which meant he had to go against his demon nature to make her smile on him.
So he was still a monster, just Buffy’s monster. Which was cool. Freaky, but cool.
He would be at the party, which hopefully wouldn't be the usual Annual Buffy Birthday Disaster. They were celebrating a day late, so maybe any badness would befall on Thursday. Mom was going out of town for a weekend retreat with some women from her Cancer Survivor’s group. Tara would be there too, but she wasn't bringing Gemma. She said that they just weren't that serious, but Dawn figured she was too nice to hurt Willow's feelings. Or maybe afraid to hurt Willow's feelings.
Willow would be there, of course. She had decided it was officially time to forgive Willow. She'd been all stony and silent with her for long enough. And she was starting to understand how hard it must be for Willow, restraining herself all the time. If she had that kind of power, to just wave her hands and make people forget stuff she'd said or did or to, like, make time skip back so she could say something less moronic, she'd be totally tempted to alakazam after every encounter with Jeremy Sutter, who must think she was a total spazzo by now.
"Miss Summers?"
Dawn realized she'd been staring at the same page for quite a while and that the room was quiet. And mostly empty. She blinked up at her teacher.
"Not that I don't appreciate your intense interest in the Bard," he said sarcastically, "but the bell rang five minutes ago."
Yeah, the magic hands? Sometimes she really wouldn't mind having them herself.
--------
The quiet spell seemed to have ended and patrol had become more of workout. Not that he’d minded. They'd cleaned out two nests, one in All Faiths and one in Restfield. Spike was entirely in his element, and Buffy was enjoying herself as well.
It didn't always happen, but tonight the fight was getting her hot. He could smell her. So could the pair of fledges they were fighting. It just revved him up more. She dusted one and then stepped back to watch him finish off the other. Fists and fangs and his woman watching him with eyes so sultry he could practically feel her around him already.
When he had twisted the younger vampire's head off, he found her gone. It was easy enough to follow her trail back to his crypt and down to the bed where she was on all fours wearing only the bracelet he’d given her for Christmas and a nervous, eager look.
Right. Like he wasn't going to go for this. Fucking Christ. He shed his clothes as quickly as possible and settled onto the mattress behind her. With one arm he pulled her up against him, wanting to feel her flushed skin, her lips on his, for a moment first. He pried one of her hands off his arm and brought it down with his own to cup her sex.
"Feel that, love, how wet you are. Got you all panting, watching me fight, didn't it Buffy?"
"Yes." She bucked against their hands. "You're... an amazing fighter, Spike," she whispered, head ducked but her body relaxing against him. He'd learned quickly that not having to look him in the eye made the Slayer bolder with her words. One of the many advantages to the position.
"Amazing at a few other things too, pet, if you'd care for a demonstration."
She stretched up to kiss him again. "Yeah. Demonstrating would be good," she agreed huskily.
He let her go to rest on her elbows, her hips lifting up invitingly. He got a nice, firm grip on her and ground himself against her a few times, getting good and slick. She widened her stance a bit and he gave a chuckle. "Eager little chit."
"I want you, Spike," she whispered.
Well, the slayer would get what she wanted, he thought, feeling a bit dizzy as he stroked up into her. "Oh, more!" she demanded breathlessly after a few trusts. "Harder!"
He picked up the pace and soon she was pressing back to meet him. Spike closed his eyes to take it in better, her hot grip on his cock and their bodies striking together loudly, her little cries spurring him on. He raised his head to watch as he moved in and out of her.
To the uninitiated it might look like he was the dominant party at the moment, but her every wish was his command. Buffy wanted more, please, yes, fuck me harder, now, Spike! and he wasn't inclined to disobey.
She moaned and fisted the sheets. "Like that, pet?" he panted at her.
"Yes!"
"Like me smacking into your ass, you naughty girl. Like me slamming into your quim."
"God yes!" She was beginning to tremble all over and he steeled himself for it.
"Love taking it like this, don't you Buffy?" She managed a moan of agreement. "Gonna come for me, pet?"
"Don't stop," she warned him, as though that were even a remote possibility. "Please... need... Spike!"
He rode it out with her and then pulled her up again, her sweaty back against his cool chest and it was only too bad he didn't have any ice to press against her neck. She threw an arm up around his shoulders, clinging to him while he palmed her breasts and sucked at her neck, pushing up and up into her.
When she clenched around him again, he let her wring him to his climax. At the last second she turned her head and sank her teeth into his throat. He roared into his orgasm and shot for what felt like hours.
"What time is?" she asked when they were both catching their breaths on the mattress.
He dug around the scattered clothes for her phone and forced his blurred vision to focus on the little glowing window. "Just after midnight."
She grinned. "Wow. My birthday's over and no major catastrophe."
“Speaking of which…” He reached under the bed and pulled out a box. “Happy birthday, love.”
She popped the lid off eagerly and pulled the puddle of caramel leather out slowly. “It’s beautiful. Thank you,” she said shyly. She licked her lips. “I probably don’t want to know how you got this, do I?”
Spike smirked at her. “By completely legal means, sweetheart. The bracelet, too.” He tamped down on the anger that was simmering in his gut. Slayer couldn’t help what a little Girl Guide she was sometimes. On the other hand, she didn’t need to know that his comfortable lifestyle, so to speak, was financed by the Gem of Amara loot. No reason to bring up that unpleasant memory.
“Bit helped me pick it out. Try it on,” he urged her. She slipped out of the bed and wrapped herself up in the coat. He sat up to inspect her. “Looks perfect.” He held out an arm. “Now come here, want to take it off you.”
She gave him a faux-stern look, then climbed up on his lap with a warning pout. “Okay,” she groused. “But don’t tear it. It’s pretty.”
---------
It had been a bad idea, but it hadn’t exactly been her idea. Hallie had just invited herself along, which Anya was fairly certain was in the book of things humans weren’t supposed to do. But Halfrek wasn't human, and she was going to be in the wedding party, along with a number of the other guests tonight, so maybe it was good that they get to know each other a little. Plus, without Hallie she might never have determined the appropriate flower arrangements, so Anya would try to be magnanimous.
Buffy hadn’t seemed to mind at first, though she had been extremely curious when Hallie and Spike tersely greeted each other as Cecily and William. Now though it was clear that Buffy was upset at the way Hallie kept sneering at Spike. Spike was ignoring her in favor of nuzzling Buffy, which just seemed to make Hallie more amused. Anya could tell Xander didn't like all the conspicuous touching, but he wasn't saying anything inflammatory. He distracted himself keeping Dawn company which was very gallant of him, though Dawn wasn’t half-bad for a teenager. At least the girl understood the value of hard work, and besides, she had mastered the dance of capitalist superiority.
She put down her empty cake plate and ambled over to join Xander. It only took a few minutes to become bored with their pop culture ephemera debate. “I’ll get you a beer,” Anya volunteered, patting Xander affectionately.
“I’ll come with you,” Hallie volunteered.
Anya wanted to grimace, but forced a smile instead. In the kitchen she rounded on her old friend. “Stop taunting him, please. He is the Slayer’s companion now and I’ve already had to talk her out of cleaving several of my acquaintances and business partners in two. She is very difficult to reason with if she becomes angry.”
“Truer words, never spoken,” Spike agreed. He swept past both of them to rattle around in the fridge.
“May I help you locate something?” Anya asked on autopilot.
Spike closed the door and grinned at her. “Not on the clock here, love, relax.” He pointed the small blue bottle at her. “Slayer wants one of these girly lemon vodka things is all. Better water your honey, he’s getting twitchy.”
“So she sent you to fetch and carry for her?” Hallie inquired, complete with fluttering eyelashes. “And of course you obey her every whim, don’t you, William?”
The vampire smiled at Halfrek as though he felt a little sorry for her. Probably he did, considering how his lot had improved of late. He’d even paid her back for the heater in a timely fashion so he must have found a more reliable stream of income than scaring frat boys into handing over their wallets. “If you knew what her whims mostly involve, Miss Addams, you’d savvy why I don’t much mind.”
There was a smirking contest. Hallie still couldn’t keep her mouth shut. “Do you write her verses too, William?”
“Verses?”
Oh goodie. Buffy had overheard part of the conversation. This was all going just swimmingly.
“Nothing, pet. Was I too long with your drink, my own?”
Buffy furrowed her brow at his overly-gallant speech. “Um, no.” She laid a hand on his bicep. Really, he was a bit scrawny when compared with Xander, but maybe Buffy was off burly men. And it was a bit deceptive, with him being a vampire and all.
“Everything okay here?” Buffy asked. She eyed Hallie suspiciously. Oh, it was not good.
“Going for a smoke,” Spike informed her as he passed her the drink.
“I’ll come with you,” she said quietly. The two headed for the door, but when Buffy tried to follow Spike out, she bounced back a few steps. “Whoa. What the hell is that?”
Anya gamely tried it herself and also found that she could not step over the threshold. Hallie beamed as she waltzed through the doorway. “What’s the problem?”
“Spike!” Buffy shouted, but he was already moving in that scary-quick way of his, and then both demons were back in the house and in their game faces.
Spike grabbed a knife out of block on the counter, keeping Halfrek pressed against the wall. "Still want to stick it in me, William?" Hallie simpered at him.
"See what I mean about the vein face?" Anya overheard Xander saying to someone. "And could someone explain why I can't stick my hand out the door to pay the pizza guy? Oh, and also why there's a Mortal Kombat match going on in the kitchen?"
"Hallie!" Anya demanded. "What did you do?"
"I dispensed justice," she squeaked petulantly.
Buffy was relatively frightening when she was angry. Anya did not enjoy the look the Slayer was giving her one bit. "I know she's your maid of honor, but if she doesn't come clean right now, I will lop her head off."
Anya groaned and stamped her foot. "Hallie! She's not joking!"
"Fine!" she sniffed. "There was some boy at the bar last night complaining about how the Slayer had wrecked his place. He said he wished the Slayer knew what it was like being trapped in a parent’s house." She glared at Spike, who was still pointing the knife at her throat. "It struck me as a legitimate grievance."
"And you trapped us all in here because..." Anya prompted.
Hallie tried to shrug. "It was easier?" Spike growled and tightened his grip. “Demons can still get out,” she tried on the vampire.
"Whoa, whoa, wait. Warren tries to pin a murder on me, and you're granting vengeance wishes for him?"
"He did? Oh, then I could do one for you, if you like." Hallie suggested frantically.
"Pass, thanks." Buffy balled her fists and relaxed. "At least now we know where to start looking for the Legion of Dorkness."
"Hallie, could you release the barrier now?" Anya spat. She was furious at her friend. She was going to have to kick her out of the wedding party now. There would be no decapitations at her reception.
Halfrek closed her eyes and shook. "Um, I think it's stuck."
"Willow?" Buffy tried.
Willow blinked at the Slayer with big eyes. "You want me to... I mean, I can try, sure."
Anya shook her head. Willow might try, but a mere witch, take down one of Halfrek's barriers? No way. But Willow was trying, eyes closed, hands up, chanting. Tara slipped one hand into her ex's and joined her in the chant. The air was starting to feel a bit fizzy, but nothing happened.
Then Willow's hand shot out the grab Halfrek's arm. Hallie shrieked and convulsed, and Spike tightened his grip. There was a loud cracking sound and then Willow fell into Tara's arms. "I think that worked," Willow managed.
"Okay!" Xander clapped his hands together. "I'm going to go pay the pizza guy."
"Willow! That was awesome!" Dawned cooed.
"Tara helped," Willow panted. The two witches exchanged a heated glance. Anya wondered how much longer they would be exes. Or if there would just be some awkward talk in the morning.
"Yeah, great job, both of you," Buffy agreed. "Spike, I think you can back off now."
Spike let go of Hallie with one last snarl, and she slumped against the wall. Anya reluctantly went to tend to her. "She should not have been able to do that," Hallie whined.
"I know." Anya was still a little stunned herself. None of the others seemed all that concerned. Mostly they were talking to each other and stealing glances at her friend like they couldn't believe she was still there.
"Gods Below, do they understand how powerful she is?"
Anya was pretty sure they didn't. Hallie teleported away as soon as she caught her breath. There was a brief strategy meeting on how to confront the nerds before Tara volunteered to take a shaky Willow home. She and Xander swiped a pizza and loaded Dawn into their backseat. Dawn was being removed to Janice's for the night so that Spike and Buffy could indulge themselves.
Anya just hoped they didn't damage the structural integrity of the house.
---------------------------
She was running hard, pink hair lashing across her face, through pounding music. Then her pursuers were in front of her, and the knife was in her chest.
Her boots made a loud echoing noise in the hallway. She was watching herself walk up to a set of doors. Behind them was a pit of fire and fanged creatures. She slammed it shut and turned to find more doors. Behind them a myriad of girls stood to face her in one great swell, lining up in formation. She stepped over the threshold. Spike appeared under her right hand, kneeling on one knee, blood seeping through his shirt.
She was standing on a rooftop. She'd been in this body before. She was Faith, watching Buffy slide a dagger into her. But then the person holding the knife was eyeless and hooded, and she was stumbling back, falling down and down.
Spike’s voice floated around her in the dark. “From what I've tasted of desire/
I hold with those who favor fire/But if it had to perish twice…”
Tara stood on the left, holding out the Manus card, a fist pounding a palm. “You thought you’d never use them,” the witch reminded her. Willow on the right, hooded and dark-haired, leaned on scythe. “You think you know,” they intoned together. “What's to come, what you are. You haven't even begun.”
She woke with a start and reached blindly for her journal. She flipped on the lamp and began scribbling down impressions furiously, trying to catch it all before morning swept it away. It was only after she’d closed the book that she realized she was alone.
Buffy grabbed her robe and wandered out into the hallway. There was water running in the bathroom. Maybe someone had come home early and Spike had bailed? She gently pushed the door open.
“Hey, little girl, I wanna be your boyfriend. Sweet little girl, I wanna be your boyfriend.”
The corners of her mouth turned up. Spike sang in the shower. She didn’t recognize the song; she’d ask someone later. Right now she needed to call Giles and start researching with the gang on whatever those uglies in her dream were.
”Do you love me, babe? What do you say? Do you love me, babe?”
‘No,’ she told herself, firmly clamping down on the dumb warm puppy feelings pawing at her head. Feeling that wanted to express how adorable it was that he sang, kinda nicely actually, in the shower. Because vampires were not adorable, even vampires that loved her and bought her fantastic leather coats and that she liked, liked a whole heaping lot.
But... it was… nice. And Giles could ‘dear lord’ over her dream just as well in the afternoon and Dawn was still out and it was all warm and steamy in there. And Spike was singing in the shower. Which meant Spike was naked in the shower. Naked and wet and warm Spike. And really, she was such a dirty girl, and Spike could help her get clean, and… when the hell had she turned into such a nympho with the, like, Letters-to-Penthouse brain?
“What can I say? Because I wanna be your boyfriend.”
She would totally call Giles later.
Probably much, much later.
-------------
Coming soon: the Finns arrive in Sunnydale. I also have a dark little one-off posted at my lj. (No Spike, hence the lack of posting here) msclawdia.livejournal.com
Some dialog recycled from the show, Robert Frost, and The Ramones.
In our thirteen installment Dawn ponders the nature of the beast, it’s Buffy’s birthday, and the Slayer dreams.
Chapter Thirteen: Older and Closer
She wasn’t asleep when Clem called. She didn’t think any of them slept last night. When Buffy had staggered out of her room and practically run her sister over, Dawn asked why she was bothering to go after Spike if he was such an unfeeling monster. Yeah, she had gotten a teensy bit irritated with Buffy. Spike was just trying to help, and they all thought her 'go directly to jail' plan was way stupid, but Spike was the one who’d gotten screamed at all night.
“He’s my monster,” had been her sister’s solemn reply.
Now Dawn’s English teacher was droning on about Shakespeare and Romeo and Juliet and blee blah blue. She was supposed to write a paper about it, but really she would rather be puzzling out something way more interesting than a soapy teen romance with swords. Why is Spike different from other vampires? Compare/contrast in a five paragraph essay. But first she needed a thesis statement.
Spike loved. She was pretty sure Angelus didn’t love. Or maybe he’d loved Darla, but he hated pretty strongly. Women especially. She was one hundred percent certain of that. Drusilla loved too, kind of, so that wasn’t enough to make Spike different. Spike was so dedicated with his love though, even when it wasn't returned.
Devotion. She remembered him in their basement, drunk and babbling in the weeks after the funeral, before Giles put her and Mom in his care and gave him a purpose again. Going on about his mother and Drusilla and how all he’d wanted was to make them happy. Oh, and all that bull about being some sort of orphaned pick-pocket? Whatever. He was such a bad liar. Giles Junior with a pathetic, poetic streak. Not that she’d be letting anyone in on that little discovery.
Well, maybe she’d tell Buffy about the poems. She thought Angel was all arty, right? He’d gotten her that book of sonnets year ago and she’d acted like it was the neato-keenest. If she went that nuts for poems, it followed that she’d go even crazier over a poet. Not that there was any use in applying logic to Buffy’s love life.
Anyway, the vampire was a twist on its host, or at least that’s what Giles and his books said. So maybe they were right. Maybe in Spike’s case his devotion got twisted all around into the whole stalker-obsession thing. So when it was Drusilla he was all throat ripping and Slayer killing and putting up with her ho-baggery. And now he’d devoted himself to Buffy, which meant he had to go against his demon nature to make her smile on him.
So he was still a monster, just Buffy’s monster. Which was cool. Freaky, but cool.
He would be at the party, which hopefully wouldn't be the usual Annual Buffy Birthday Disaster. They were celebrating a day late, so maybe any badness would befall on Thursday. Mom was going out of town for a weekend retreat with some women from her Cancer Survivor’s group. Tara would be there too, but she wasn't bringing Gemma. She said that they just weren't that serious, but Dawn figured she was too nice to hurt Willow's feelings. Or maybe afraid to hurt Willow's feelings.
Willow would be there, of course. She had decided it was officially time to forgive Willow. She'd been all stony and silent with her for long enough. And she was starting to understand how hard it must be for Willow, restraining herself all the time. If she had that kind of power, to just wave her hands and make people forget stuff she'd said or did or to, like, make time skip back so she could say something less moronic, she'd be totally tempted to alakazam after every encounter with Jeremy Sutter, who must think she was a total spazzo by now.
"Miss Summers?"
Dawn realized she'd been staring at the same page for quite a while and that the room was quiet. And mostly empty. She blinked up at her teacher.
"Not that I don't appreciate your intense interest in the Bard," he said sarcastically, "but the bell rang five minutes ago."
Yeah, the magic hands? Sometimes she really wouldn't mind having them herself.
--------
The quiet spell seemed to have ended and patrol had become more of workout. Not that he’d minded. They'd cleaned out two nests, one in All Faiths and one in Restfield. Spike was entirely in his element, and Buffy was enjoying herself as well.
It didn't always happen, but tonight the fight was getting her hot. He could smell her. So could the pair of fledges they were fighting. It just revved him up more. She dusted one and then stepped back to watch him finish off the other. Fists and fangs and his woman watching him with eyes so sultry he could practically feel her around him already.
When he had twisted the younger vampire's head off, he found her gone. It was easy enough to follow her trail back to his crypt and down to the bed where she was on all fours wearing only the bracelet he’d given her for Christmas and a nervous, eager look.
Right. Like he wasn't going to go for this. Fucking Christ. He shed his clothes as quickly as possible and settled onto the mattress behind her. With one arm he pulled her up against him, wanting to feel her flushed skin, her lips on his, for a moment first. He pried one of her hands off his arm and brought it down with his own to cup her sex.
"Feel that, love, how wet you are. Got you all panting, watching me fight, didn't it Buffy?"
"Yes." She bucked against their hands. "You're... an amazing fighter, Spike," she whispered, head ducked but her body relaxing against him. He'd learned quickly that not having to look him in the eye made the Slayer bolder with her words. One of the many advantages to the position.
"Amazing at a few other things too, pet, if you'd care for a demonstration."
She stretched up to kiss him again. "Yeah. Demonstrating would be good," she agreed huskily.
He let her go to rest on her elbows, her hips lifting up invitingly. He got a nice, firm grip on her and ground himself against her a few times, getting good and slick. She widened her stance a bit and he gave a chuckle. "Eager little chit."
"I want you, Spike," she whispered.
Well, the slayer would get what she wanted, he thought, feeling a bit dizzy as he stroked up into her. "Oh, more!" she demanded breathlessly after a few trusts. "Harder!"
He picked up the pace and soon she was pressing back to meet him. Spike closed his eyes to take it in better, her hot grip on his cock and their bodies striking together loudly, her little cries spurring him on. He raised his head to watch as he moved in and out of her.
To the uninitiated it might look like he was the dominant party at the moment, but her every wish was his command. Buffy wanted more, please, yes, fuck me harder, now, Spike! and he wasn't inclined to disobey.
She moaned and fisted the sheets. "Like that, pet?" he panted at her.
"Yes!"
"Like me smacking into your ass, you naughty girl. Like me slamming into your quim."
"God yes!" She was beginning to tremble all over and he steeled himself for it.
"Love taking it like this, don't you Buffy?" She managed a moan of agreement. "Gonna come for me, pet?"
"Don't stop," she warned him, as though that were even a remote possibility. "Please... need... Spike!"
He rode it out with her and then pulled her up again, her sweaty back against his cool chest and it was only too bad he didn't have any ice to press against her neck. She threw an arm up around his shoulders, clinging to him while he palmed her breasts and sucked at her neck, pushing up and up into her.
When she clenched around him again, he let her wring him to his climax. At the last second she turned her head and sank her teeth into his throat. He roared into his orgasm and shot for what felt like hours.
"What time is?" she asked when they were both catching their breaths on the mattress.
He dug around the scattered clothes for her phone and forced his blurred vision to focus on the little glowing window. "Just after midnight."
She grinned. "Wow. My birthday's over and no major catastrophe."
“Speaking of which…” He reached under the bed and pulled out a box. “Happy birthday, love.”
She popped the lid off eagerly and pulled the puddle of caramel leather out slowly. “It’s beautiful. Thank you,” she said shyly. She licked her lips. “I probably don’t want to know how you got this, do I?”
Spike smirked at her. “By completely legal means, sweetheart. The bracelet, too.” He tamped down on the anger that was simmering in his gut. Slayer couldn’t help what a little Girl Guide she was sometimes. On the other hand, she didn’t need to know that his comfortable lifestyle, so to speak, was financed by the Gem of Amara loot. No reason to bring up that unpleasant memory.
“Bit helped me pick it out. Try it on,” he urged her. She slipped out of the bed and wrapped herself up in the coat. He sat up to inspect her. “Looks perfect.” He held out an arm. “Now come here, want to take it off you.”
She gave him a faux-stern look, then climbed up on his lap with a warning pout. “Okay,” she groused. “But don’t tear it. It’s pretty.”
---------
It had been a bad idea, but it hadn’t exactly been her idea. Hallie had just invited herself along, which Anya was fairly certain was in the book of things humans weren’t supposed to do. But Halfrek wasn't human, and she was going to be in the wedding party, along with a number of the other guests tonight, so maybe it was good that they get to know each other a little. Plus, without Hallie she might never have determined the appropriate flower arrangements, so Anya would try to be magnanimous.
Buffy hadn’t seemed to mind at first, though she had been extremely curious when Hallie and Spike tersely greeted each other as Cecily and William. Now though it was clear that Buffy was upset at the way Hallie kept sneering at Spike. Spike was ignoring her in favor of nuzzling Buffy, which just seemed to make Hallie more amused. Anya could tell Xander didn't like all the conspicuous touching, but he wasn't saying anything inflammatory. He distracted himself keeping Dawn company which was very gallant of him, though Dawn wasn’t half-bad for a teenager. At least the girl understood the value of hard work, and besides, she had mastered the dance of capitalist superiority.
She put down her empty cake plate and ambled over to join Xander. It only took a few minutes to become bored with their pop culture ephemera debate. “I’ll get you a beer,” Anya volunteered, patting Xander affectionately.
“I’ll come with you,” Hallie volunteered.
Anya wanted to grimace, but forced a smile instead. In the kitchen she rounded on her old friend. “Stop taunting him, please. He is the Slayer’s companion now and I’ve already had to talk her out of cleaving several of my acquaintances and business partners in two. She is very difficult to reason with if she becomes angry.”
“Truer words, never spoken,” Spike agreed. He swept past both of them to rattle around in the fridge.
“May I help you locate something?” Anya asked on autopilot.
Spike closed the door and grinned at her. “Not on the clock here, love, relax.” He pointed the small blue bottle at her. “Slayer wants one of these girly lemon vodka things is all. Better water your honey, he’s getting twitchy.”
“So she sent you to fetch and carry for her?” Hallie inquired, complete with fluttering eyelashes. “And of course you obey her every whim, don’t you, William?”
The vampire smiled at Halfrek as though he felt a little sorry for her. Probably he did, considering how his lot had improved of late. He’d even paid her back for the heater in a timely fashion so he must have found a more reliable stream of income than scaring frat boys into handing over their wallets. “If you knew what her whims mostly involve, Miss Addams, you’d savvy why I don’t much mind.”
There was a smirking contest. Hallie still couldn’t keep her mouth shut. “Do you write her verses too, William?”
“Verses?”
Oh goodie. Buffy had overheard part of the conversation. This was all going just swimmingly.
“Nothing, pet. Was I too long with your drink, my own?”
Buffy furrowed her brow at his overly-gallant speech. “Um, no.” She laid a hand on his bicep. Really, he was a bit scrawny when compared with Xander, but maybe Buffy was off burly men. And it was a bit deceptive, with him being a vampire and all.
“Everything okay here?” Buffy asked. She eyed Hallie suspiciously. Oh, it was not good.
“Going for a smoke,” Spike informed her as he passed her the drink.
“I’ll come with you,” she said quietly. The two headed for the door, but when Buffy tried to follow Spike out, she bounced back a few steps. “Whoa. What the hell is that?”
Anya gamely tried it herself and also found that she could not step over the threshold. Hallie beamed as she waltzed through the doorway. “What’s the problem?”
“Spike!” Buffy shouted, but he was already moving in that scary-quick way of his, and then both demons were back in the house and in their game faces.
Spike grabbed a knife out of block on the counter, keeping Halfrek pressed against the wall. "Still want to stick it in me, William?" Hallie simpered at him.
"See what I mean about the vein face?" Anya overheard Xander saying to someone. "And could someone explain why I can't stick my hand out the door to pay the pizza guy? Oh, and also why there's a Mortal Kombat match going on in the kitchen?"
"Hallie!" Anya demanded. "What did you do?"
"I dispensed justice," she squeaked petulantly.
Buffy was relatively frightening when she was angry. Anya did not enjoy the look the Slayer was giving her one bit. "I know she's your maid of honor, but if she doesn't come clean right now, I will lop her head off."
Anya groaned and stamped her foot. "Hallie! She's not joking!"
"Fine!" she sniffed. "There was some boy at the bar last night complaining about how the Slayer had wrecked his place. He said he wished the Slayer knew what it was like being trapped in a parent’s house." She glared at Spike, who was still pointing the knife at her throat. "It struck me as a legitimate grievance."
"And you trapped us all in here because..." Anya prompted.
Hallie tried to shrug. "It was easier?" Spike growled and tightened his grip. “Demons can still get out,” she tried on the vampire.
"Whoa, whoa, wait. Warren tries to pin a murder on me, and you're granting vengeance wishes for him?"
"He did? Oh, then I could do one for you, if you like." Hallie suggested frantically.
"Pass, thanks." Buffy balled her fists and relaxed. "At least now we know where to start looking for the Legion of Dorkness."
"Hallie, could you release the barrier now?" Anya spat. She was furious at her friend. She was going to have to kick her out of the wedding party now. There would be no decapitations at her reception.
Halfrek closed her eyes and shook. "Um, I think it's stuck."
"Willow?" Buffy tried.
Willow blinked at the Slayer with big eyes. "You want me to... I mean, I can try, sure."
Anya shook her head. Willow might try, but a mere witch, take down one of Halfrek's barriers? No way. But Willow was trying, eyes closed, hands up, chanting. Tara slipped one hand into her ex's and joined her in the chant. The air was starting to feel a bit fizzy, but nothing happened.
Then Willow's hand shot out the grab Halfrek's arm. Hallie shrieked and convulsed, and Spike tightened his grip. There was a loud cracking sound and then Willow fell into Tara's arms. "I think that worked," Willow managed.
"Okay!" Xander clapped his hands together. "I'm going to go pay the pizza guy."
"Willow! That was awesome!" Dawned cooed.
"Tara helped," Willow panted. The two witches exchanged a heated glance. Anya wondered how much longer they would be exes. Or if there would just be some awkward talk in the morning.
"Yeah, great job, both of you," Buffy agreed. "Spike, I think you can back off now."
Spike let go of Hallie with one last snarl, and she slumped against the wall. Anya reluctantly went to tend to her. "She should not have been able to do that," Hallie whined.
"I know." Anya was still a little stunned herself. None of the others seemed all that concerned. Mostly they were talking to each other and stealing glances at her friend like they couldn't believe she was still there.
"Gods Below, do they understand how powerful she is?"
Anya was pretty sure they didn't. Hallie teleported away as soon as she caught her breath. There was a brief strategy meeting on how to confront the nerds before Tara volunteered to take a shaky Willow home. She and Xander swiped a pizza and loaded Dawn into their backseat. Dawn was being removed to Janice's for the night so that Spike and Buffy could indulge themselves.
Anya just hoped they didn't damage the structural integrity of the house.
---------------------------
She was running hard, pink hair lashing across her face, through pounding music. Then her pursuers were in front of her, and the knife was in her chest.
Her boots made a loud echoing noise in the hallway. She was watching herself walk up to a set of doors. Behind them was a pit of fire and fanged creatures. She slammed it shut and turned to find more doors. Behind them a myriad of girls stood to face her in one great swell, lining up in formation. She stepped over the threshold. Spike appeared under her right hand, kneeling on one knee, blood seeping through his shirt.
She was standing on a rooftop. She'd been in this body before. She was Faith, watching Buffy slide a dagger into her. But then the person holding the knife was eyeless and hooded, and she was stumbling back, falling down and down.
Spike’s voice floated around her in the dark. “From what I've tasted of desire/
I hold with those who favor fire/But if it had to perish twice…”
Tara stood on the left, holding out the Manus card, a fist pounding a palm. “You thought you’d never use them,” the witch reminded her. Willow on the right, hooded and dark-haired, leaned on scythe. “You think you know,” they intoned together. “What's to come, what you are. You haven't even begun.”
She woke with a start and reached blindly for her journal. She flipped on the lamp and began scribbling down impressions furiously, trying to catch it all before morning swept it away. It was only after she’d closed the book that she realized she was alone.
Buffy grabbed her robe and wandered out into the hallway. There was water running in the bathroom. Maybe someone had come home early and Spike had bailed? She gently pushed the door open.
“Hey, little girl, I wanna be your boyfriend. Sweet little girl, I wanna be your boyfriend.”
The corners of her mouth turned up. Spike sang in the shower. She didn’t recognize the song; she’d ask someone later. Right now she needed to call Giles and start researching with the gang on whatever those uglies in her dream were.
”Do you love me, babe? What do you say? Do you love me, babe?”
‘No,’ she told herself, firmly clamping down on the dumb warm puppy feelings pawing at her head. Feeling that wanted to express how adorable it was that he sang, kinda nicely actually, in the shower. Because vampires were not adorable, even vampires that loved her and bought her fantastic leather coats and that she liked, liked a whole heaping lot.
But... it was… nice. And Giles could ‘dear lord’ over her dream just as well in the afternoon and Dawn was still out and it was all warm and steamy in there. And Spike was singing in the shower. Which meant Spike was naked in the shower. Naked and wet and warm Spike. And really, she was such a dirty girl, and Spike could help her get clean, and… when the hell had she turned into such a nympho with the, like, Letters-to-Penthouse brain?
“What can I say? Because I wanna be your boyfriend.”
She would totally call Giles later.
Probably much, much later.
-------------
Coming soon: the Finns arrive in Sunnydale. I also have a dark little one-off posted at my lj. (No Spike, hence the lack of posting here) msclawdia.livejournal.com
Reveille
Author’s Note: Thanks once more to Kar and my reviewers. This chapter took a long time for some reason. So thanks also for your patience. Please keep the feedback coming. Heading into the home stretch with this fic. Kinda hard to believe. Some dialog borrowed from episodes.
In our fourteenth installment Riley Finn returns to Sunnydale, his reception varies.
Chapter Fourteen: Reveille
Have you ever considered not putting four quarts of gel in your hair? It's kinda nice like this.
"Venti half-caff mocha latte."
Yes, because nothing says 'big bad' like poncy curls.
"Large iced chai and a grande mocha with a shot of vanilla."
Oh, I don't know. You still look pretty big to me.
But not bad, Slayer?
"Miss?"
But if you’ve been bad, I might have to punish you.
Oh, Slayer, I confess that I have been very, very bad indeed.
“Miss?”
"Um, sorry, could you repeat that?"
“Buffy, get it in gear, please.”
“Sorry. Next?”
I must say, I share your concern for Faith. I will speak to the Council about it.
Do you have any idea what it means, Giles? Who all those girls were?
It's possible they are Potentials, or perhaps previous Slayers, or even women who've survived due to your work.
So, in other words, no clue.
Quite.
"Here you go, have a nice day!"
The poem...
Frost, yeah, I know. We read it junior year. He was a poet, you know.
I know who Robert Frost is.
Not Frost, Spike.
I beg your pardon?
Spike was a poet, before he was Spike. Dawn swears he told her this while I was gone.
Well, that is most interesting.
"I said light whip. What the hell is this? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"
Um, I should probably tell you, Spike and I are... uh, see after you left we sorta...
My dear girl, I know. Please under no circumstance provide any details.
You're mad.
I am concerned. Do be careful, Buffy.
"Hi, what can I get-- You!" She blinked a few times. She was only half-there after all, lost in thoughts about Giles and Spike and handcuffs and whether Faith was going to get shivved in the joint. So she wasn't entirely sure that she was really looking at Riley Finn or just having some sort of caffeine-induced hallucination.
"Sorry to just drop in on you like this, Buffy. I need your help."
Buffy tilted her head up at him. He was so... large. "Were you always this tall?"
"I..." He squinted at her. "Look, this isn't the way I wanted it. But something's come up, something big. We don't have much time. You understand?"
Riley needed help. The last time she had seen him he was sporting fresh bite marks and giving her ultimatums. She hadn't thought she would ever see him again. Frankly, she was kinda hoping she wouldn't have to. But he needed help demon wrangling, and a sacred duty was a sacred duty.
She glanced at the clock. Lisa was due any minute. There was a line forming behind Riley. Chantal was barista-ing away like the pro she was. Maybe she could handle it until Lisa arrived. "You need my help?"
He nodded.
"Family emergency, Chantal. I gotta go."
"Got it!" the other girl called over her shoulder.
The customers groaned, but she ignored them. Buffy tossed her apron in the hamper and decided she'd come back for her stuff later. Riley marched behind her. "I want to explain, I just don't have time. I've been up for 48 hours straight tracking something bad, and now it's come to Sunnydale."
"Can you tell me anything about it?"
"I know that I'm putting you on the spot, showing up like this, but ... but you know, here we are. I need the best. I need you, Buffy."
She sighed and stopped with her hand on the door. "Riley, you can stop trying to talk me into it. In case you missed it, I'm already on board. Maybe you want to tell me what we're hunting?"
"Look, I'm sorry this is all so sudden. You know, if we get a minute, I'd really like to sit down..."
"Riley. What. Are. We. Hunting?"
He blinked at her and handed her something black and shiny from his pack. "Suvolte demon. Rare, lethal, nearly extinct, but not nearly enough. It's close."
She turned the toy-looking thing around in her hands and laughed. "Sorry. It's just ... you still carry around all that James Bond stuff. It's so cute! I forgot. Sorry." She gave him a mock salute. "Carry on, soldier."
Riley stared at her for a moment, then just shook his head and adjusted the weapon for her, pressing her finger to the trigger. His hands were so hot. And huge. It felt strange.
There was a nasty roar in the distance. "I think that's our quarry," he informed her.
"Let's go!" she agreed.
--------------
Willow followed her little glowy light, feeling a touch nervous alone in the dark. And tracking Buffy to a spooky old dam? Not feeling safe and secure, at all.
When Buffy called and said she was helping Riley chase some big demon and could she help, Willow was all over it. And her futile watch of the Wells, Meeks, and Levinson houses for signs of basement habitation wasn't exactly exercising her brain much. She'd take about anything to distract herself from thoughts of her little one night stand with Tara, which was apparently a mistake and something they were not ready for.
Or at least that's what Tara had said in the morning. Willow? She was pretty much ready anytime. At least she had succeeded in talking Tara into a coffee date. They could start slowly. She could be patient. Tara was worth it. She knew she was lucky to be getting a second chance with her at all. She’d try and just, you know, avoid thinking about sex in the meantime.
Which Buffy was making difficult. Not that she'd been bubbling over with details of her sex life now that she knew Willow knew about Spike. But based on what little she had said -- which was still too much -- and the perpetual post-orgasmic glow? Willow couldn't help being a little jealous. About the sex-having, not the Spike-having, which was so not her scene.
"Forestry Service! Stay back, ma'am!"
"Um, right. It's Willow, Riley." She peered down over the edge of the crater they were down in. Buffy, Riley, a stranger in black, and a huge dead demon.
"Wills!" Buffy called. "Stay there. We're coming up."
Willow leaned against a tree and waited while they climbed out. Buffy looked jumpy. Willow wasn't sure that the stranger introduced as Mrs. Finn was the problem, but she could tell the couple thought so. "So, mission accomplished?" she asked after a few pleasantries had been exchanged.
"Hardly," Sam Finn explained as they loaded into the car. "That was the mama. She's looking for her eggs and she's way pissed that someone raided her nest."
"We've got to get some rest but then we need to start asking around," Riley went on. "Rumor is some demon in town has them and is looking to sell to the highest bidder."
"We should ask Spike," Willow suggested. Buffy shot her a panicked look.
"Yeah, he's first on my list," Riley agreed.
"What?" Willow exchanged incredulous looks with Buffy. "You think Spike is selling demon babies? I meant he might know something. He kinda keeps his ear to the ground for us these days."
"Yeah, Riley, I, um, would have noticed if there was a stash of eggs in his crypt. I’m there a lot.” Willow saw her wince as Riley’s face went all excuse me. “I... meet him there when he patrols with me,” Buffy covered.
Sam, Riley's wife, looked a little confused. "You're the Slayer and you work with a vampire?"
Buffy chewed her bottom lip. "Spike is... different."
"Hostile Seventeen," Riley said to his wife, who nodded in understanding. "Still want to question him, Buffy."
Buffy was getting pissed off, Willow could tell. At least they were on Revello Drive now. "I can handle Spike, Riley."
"I'll say," Willow whispered. Buffy elbowed her and gave her a sly grin.
"Riley, I'm sure the Slayer knows what she's doing," his wife agreed.
They pulled into the driveway. Inside, Joyce was laying out food, and Dawn was sitting on the couch with a cold look on her face. “Well, looks who’s still alive?” she spat. Willow was glad that for once the anger wasn't aimed at her.
Buffy pulled her aside after a few minutes of uncomfortable chit-chat.. "I have a big favor to ask." Willow nodded. "My stuff is still at The Pump, and I'm hours late to meet Spike." She huffed. "Why doesn't he get a phone?"
"I've got it, Buffy," she assured her friend. “And I’m just gonna guess you want to keep your destination under wraps?”
Buffy stuffed her hands in her back pockets. “It’s so very none of his business and I just don’t want to hear it, you know?” Willow knew. "I'll be back soon."
Willow smiled at her and patted her shoulder. "No you won't."
--------
They had already had the night from hell, driving all the way to Los Angeles and then back with a carful of extended Harris family. And then arriving at Chez Summers to find the Finns? Xander had a feeling the night was going to get even longer.
With Anya happily grilling Sam about their ceremony, it fell to him to chat with Riley. Everyone else was either ignoring the guy or shooting him cold glances. “So, married life; how is it?” He handed the soldier a beer.
Riley nodded his thanks and took a swig. “Why, you nervous?” he teased.
“I love Anya,” Xander pointed out.
“You implying I don’t love Sam?”
Xander sighed. He had been going for friendly but managed to put Riley on the defensive instead. Well, if that was how he wanted to play it… “Just making conversation here, Riley, trying to be polite because I’m still a little sore at you for making me look like an ass.”
He really, really was. Willow said it was because he had a ‘schoolboy crush’ on Riley, which Anya had helpfully explained didn’t mean he wanted to sleep with Riley, just that he thought Riley was super neat and liked being around him. Which sounded about right. He still wasn’t quite sure what women saw in men, much less entertained the notion himself. But there had been a kick in having another regular guy around, even if Riley was a fairly exotic flavor of regular.
“How’s that?” Riley demanded, breaking into his reverie.
Xander flinched at the memory. “Right before you flew off, I gave Buffy some big speech about love and risk and what a great guy you are. Of course I didn’t know at the time that you were renting yourself out as a snack because you couldn’t deal with loving someone stronger than you.”
“You only wanted me around because it was like you boning her by proxy.”
“I—what!?” Xander stared at him incredulously.
“You’re into Buffy. Even now. That’s why you’re so panicky about marrying Anya.”
“I’m only jumpy about the wedding. I’m psyched about being married to Anya.”
“Sweetie?” Anya was suddenly in the doorway. “What do you think about disposable cameras? Sam says we should put them on the tables at the reception so the guests can take pictures and leave them for us.”
Xander took a deep breath. “It sounds like we’d be paying a bunch of money to develop grainy pictures taken by drunken amateurs?”
“I had not considered the expense involved, Xander. You’re so clever!” Anya beamed at him. Right. He totally wasn’t head over heels for this. “Oh, I apologize for interrupting your awkward and heated conversation, but Willow asked me to tell you that Buffy left, and that she called the Sunnydale Arms. They’ve got vacancies.”
“Buffy left? It’s so late. Is she living in the dorms again?”
“Oh, she went to see Sp—special new guy, her special new guy.”
Riley drained his beer. “She didn’t mention a new guy. Good for her.”
Good for her? Yeah, maybe he was.
--------
Dennis startled her by coming out of the walk-in fridge as she was coming out of The Pump's employee bathroom. She'd finally made it back to The Espresso Pump for her stuff and she was in a hurry. Chantal reported that some blond guy had coming look for her and didn't seem to like it when she explained about the man in black and the family emergency.
Buffy just hoped he was home. "Spike?" She cracked the door open. She could hear music, low and moany, so she went in. "I'm sorry I'm late. You really need to get a phone."
He was in his chair, shirtless, a bleeding gash on his arm and a bottle in his hand. "Thought you'd be off snogging soldier boy."
She crossed her arms. "What? You thought I would ch--" cheat on you. That was what she was going to say. Which implied that they were a couple. Like, really a couple. Hadn't they been one for a while, really?
Apparently she needed to make that clearer for him. She crossed the room and straddled his lap. "I wouldn't do that, okay?" She kissed him. "Is that why you're drinking by yourself, sitting in the dark listening to The Cure?"
He snorted. "The Smiths, Slayer. Completely ignorant, you are."
"Whatever," she snitted. She gave him a hard time, but really the only ones he played that were so heavy they gave her a headache were the Sex Pistols. The Ramones were kinda fun. And it wasn’t all punk; there was a spooky overlap with Giles’s music collection, actually. "You really think I'm that kind of girl?"
"Didn't know that I had a claim on you."
She rolled her eyes. "You're my guy now," she whispered against his lips. “Okay? Is that official enough for you?” She gestured for emphasis. “You, me, together.”
"That so, Slayer?"
"That's so." She took the bottle away and guided his hand into her jacket so he could feel everything she wasn't wearing underneath it. "You're hurt," she remarked, examining the wound on his arm.
He waved her off. "Just a scratch. Already healing up. Ran into a nasty Faryl on patrol."
"You patrolled without me?" She pouted at him. It had the desired effect. He pulled her in tight, working one hand between them so he could unbutton her coat while he kissed her.
"You were busy," he reminded her while she caught her breath. "Running around with G.I. Joe."
"Yeah, there was a big demon and there's this whole mystery going on..." His tongue swirled around a nipple. "Which I'll tell you about later," she decided aloud.
Spike laughed and the vibration sent a trill up her spine. "Thought you'd gone from me, Buffy."
He turned his attention to the other breast. When she could speak again she told him "Don't want to go from you." She pulled back so she could see his eyes. "Come to the wedding with me."
His face was all confused looking, but he didn't stop stroking her breast.
"Come to the wedding with me," she repeated. "You know, like a date. We'll drink cheap champagne and do the Electric Slide."
He snorted, trying to cover how pleased he was, but she was getting pretty good at reading him. "Not bloody likely."
"Oh come on, Spike," she teased, reaching down to cup him through his jeans. "I'll make it worth it. Besides," she popped the button on his fly and tugged at the zipper, "you know you wanna dance."
The floor of the crypt was cold under her knees, and she dimly realized that she hadn't done this since regaining her visibility. He hadn't asked and it hadn't really crossed her mind because they were so busy doing other stuff. The shower would have been a good time. She'd remember that the next time her mom went out of town.
She eased her lips down the cool length of him and twirled her tongue around him on the upstroke. He moaned in a gratifying way and clutched at the arms of the chair. She hadn’t done this much, period. With Riley it had been like a diversionary tactic when she didn’t feel up for much or needed to get home to study. Get him off and get out. Spike would be up again in five minutes.
Which was insane and wonderful and intense. And would he like her hand wrapped around what wouldn’t fit in her mouth?
"Christ, Slayer."
Yahtzee. Anyway, comparing Spike-sex and Riley-sex was …. It’s not like sex with Riley had been bad, it had just been… well, not vanilla. More like Neapolitan. Sex with Spike was like all thirty-one flavors plus chocolate syrup and whipped cream. He wasn't really a man, but real men were so delicate. Spike wasn't delicate, at least not physically, and he knew she wasn't either.
"Oh, Buffy."
And she hadn't been enough for a real man. She was enough for Spike. He let her know that every time she was with him, that she was his world. And at the same time, he asked so little of her. Of course, he was probably afraid to ask for too much. Hence the lack requests for blow jobs or dinner dates.
"Your mouth, oh yes, harder - like that. Ah..."
He was so utterly hers. Her own scary, sexy, devoted vampire.
"So good, Buffy. Do any sodding dance you like, love."
She laughed around him and he spent. He wore an expression of utter contentment for a moment and when he looked at her, his eyes were dopey with love. She felt a thrill she knew she shouldn't. "Didn't have to do that, you know. I'd have gone anywhere with you just for the asking."
"You complaining?" she asked with a wry smile.
He snuffed and grabbed her hand to kiss it. "Come up here, pet, let me thank you properly."
Buffy settled into the chair with him once more. "Do you love me?" she asked quietly.
The hopeful look on his face was hard to see. She wished he'd give up on the idea of her loving him back. Because she couldn't do that. Even if she was starting to like him to an extent that kinda resembled love.
"You know I love you, Buffy." She closed her eyes for a moment. Riley had said that too, but then he's stopped somehow. How long would Spike love her? "You're my girl," he told her, his tone making it sound like a prayer. This one just might last.
"Do you want me?" she asked coyly, sliding her hands up his sides to his shoulders. She could feel the answer already.
"Always," he assured her. He gave her his best rakish grin and captured her mouth in a fierce kiss.
She couldn't love him, but she intended to enjoy him.
----------
Waking up with the Slayer in his arms was never going to get old for Spike. In the beginning she'd barely deigned to stay in his bed and rolled away from him when she did. Since the row over the dead girl, she'd been increasingly sweeter. Maybe it was finding out about Forehead Junior. Either way, more and more often she’d burrow under the covers with him, making him warm and dozy, leaving him longing for her that much more when he went to bed alone.
The previous evening flashed across the back of his eyelids as he nuzzled her shoulder. After declaring a number of times that he was hers, she seemed to want to test the extent of his submission, and he was only too willing to comply. The Slayer was familiar with chains for her work, but took to the repurposing like a natural. Surprised him by digging up a scrap of silk for a blindfold, and then proceeded to torture him with a series of alternating soft and sharp caresses until it was nearly impossible to obey her order not to come until she said so. Then when she had worked him back up again, she’d removed the blind so he could fully experience her going at him with the desperation of a sailor on leave. Bouncing hair, heaving breasts, pretty pink mouth calling his name again and again; her eyes glued to his as she clenched around him.
He was almost, but not quite, enough of a ponce to say that this was even more fantastic. To have her cozy and hot against him, her golden hair brushing his arms and torso, tight bum resting against his waking erection, throat bare and undefended because she knew he was hers; this was what poems were made of. But he’d found other ways to channel his creative impulses. In fact, he could think of a number of creative ways to wake her up, but he wasn’t interested in performing for this particular audience.
Then again waking up with Buffy in his arms with Riley sodding Finn as witness? That was just, well he wouldn’t normally use the word, but delicious. He nuzzled her shoulder. “Wake up, pet. We’ve got company.”
Buffy mumbled something incoherent and squirmed against him. But when Riley finally lifted his jaw off the floor and managed to say her name, her eyes went wide. Spike braced himself.
She goggled at Riley and pulled the covers tighter around her. “I’m… what time is it?” she asked, her voice drowsy. Under the blanket her fingers brushed against his thigh. He felt his eyebrows creeping up. Perhaps she had really meant it, all her sweet talk last night.
“What time is it?” Soldier Boy repeated incredulously. “You’re asking me what time it is?”
Buffy blew a stray strand of hair off her face. “Yeah. I was supposed to meet you guys, right? Am I late?”
Cardboard shook his head. “He’s got the eggs, Buffy. And if he’s not keeping them properly refrigerated, they could hatch any minute.”
Spike sneered at Finn. “What the bleeding hell is he on about?”
Buffy sat up, pulling the blankets up with her. “He thinks you’re suddenly an international arms dealer.”
“Well, isn’t that neat.”
“Someone’s selling Suvolte eggs. Riley thinks it’s you.” She screwed up her face. “Was this just a hunch, or did someone give you some bad intel?”
He puffed up all many like. “We got a very specific tip that the dealer is someone who works with the Slayer. Willy said he even chose his codename because of you.”
“Oh well, Willy,” Spike snorted. “There’s a reliable source.” Dealing in Suvolte eggs? Bloke would need a lot of stupid or a lot of swagger to pull that off.
But the Slayer had a thoughtful look on. “What’s the codename?”
“The Doctor.”
“Ohmigod!” Buffy pulled the sheet tight and stood up, leaving the rest of the covers to pool around him. “It’s Dennis.” Buffy grabbed some clothes and disappeared behind a beam.
“Who or what is Dennis?”
“Slayer’s coworker at the coffee place. Lushokite.”
Buffy shot him an apologetic look. “I’ll be back soon.” She turned her gaze to Riley. “He should be on first shift. Let’s go.” Riley nodded.
Spike sighed and shifted on the mattress. Then something caught his notice. “Um, love?” He uncovered his left foot and rattled the chain. The others they’d undone before falling asleep, but apparently they’d missed the one. She sighed and searched the floor for the key, then tossed it to him.
“You keep him chained up?”
“Oh, uh, no.” Buffy turned crimson. “Those are just… recreational.”
Yes, delicious was indeed the word.
------------------------------
Joyce brought the young man his cup of coffee and took a seat across from him. Upstairs the shower was still going and an awkward silence was settling in as they waited for Buffy.
“I heard your health is much better, Ms. Summers,” Riley ventured.
Joyce took a sip of coffee and looked over the rim of her cup at him. “Yes, thank you. You look well, Riley. Married life agrees with you.”
“Yeah.” His smile looked genuine enough. “Sam’s great.” He set his cup down and leaned forward, elbows on knees, like he had a secret to share. “I’m worried about Buffy though, Ms. Summers.”
“She’s been through a lot since you were last here,” she reminded him. She had liked Riley well enough, but she hadn’t been terribly surprised when things ended. How things ended, well, that had been more of a shock. He did seem so terribly normal.
“Yeah. I get that. Death is not a minor event.” He stirred his coffee. “Still. The whole thing with Spike…” Joyce hid her expression by taking another drink. “You know she’s in love with him, right?” She raised her eyebrows. “The look on her face, when she talks about him… If she’d looked at me like that just once, I never would have gotten on that helicopter.”
“Ugh. I didn’t think I was ever going to get all the yolk out of my hair,” Buffy announced as she descended the staircase.
“Egg yolk is good for your hair,” Joyce informed her daughter. “It’s a natural conditioner.”
“Even when it’s blue?” Buffy challenged.
Joyce lifted her hands in defeat. “It was nice to see you again, Riley. Be careful on your mission.” She rinsed out the coffee cups while Buffy and Riley said their good-byes on the porch. “That seemed pretty civil,” she commented when Buffy came back in.
Her daughter shrugged. “We’re both sorry about how things ended, even though it’s good that we ended.” She shook her head. “Married though. I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Did you ever think you and Riley would get married?”
Buffy studied her hands. “I don’t know. Maybe. I never really thought about it very seriously. I mean, I had all these dumb fantasies when I was in high school about Angel magically becoming human and how we’d live happily ever after. That just feels like a million years ago now.” She blew out a breath. “I’ll never get married.”
Joyce leaned against the sink, feeling a bit weary. “What, no floral arrangements for us to argue over?”
“You can do that with Dawn,” her daughter said glibly as she fixed herself a cup of coffee. “Dawn will get married and probably have a whole passel of kids that I’ll never get to s—sit for often enough for her,” she covered.
That I’ll never get to see. Worse than knowing Buffy didn’t think she had long to live was seeing that she was resigned to it. Joyce made a note to herself to call Giles again. The ‘birth to legions’ prophecy could be another red herring, or turn out to be something horrible, but she was holding on to the idea that if nothing else, it indicated some sort of future for her daughter.
“I have Saturday off,” Buffy reminded her. “Wanna rent a movie or do some retail therapy? Play like you’ve got a nice normal daughter who didn’t just rinse demon goo out of her hair?”
Joyce patted said hair. “I’d like that, but Buffy, I don’t want to feel like you have to pretend with me.”
Buffy smiled. “When I’m with you, it’s not pretending. Then it’s just part of who I am.”
Who you are, Joyce mused. A little blond shoe hound with a part-time job in a coffee shop and a full-time job fighting evil who has fallen for a vampire and doesn’t seem to know it yet. Who might not live out the decade. Truth be told, no, Joyce wouldn’t mind pretending that things were nice and normal for a few hours.
-----
So, I just couldn’t bring myself to have a bash-a-thon or to have Riley catch them flagrante. And I fear the Joyce section is a bit weak, but this chapter just exhausted me somehow. Next time: the wedding day.
In our fourteenth installment Riley Finn returns to Sunnydale, his reception varies.
Chapter Fourteen: Reveille
Have you ever considered not putting four quarts of gel in your hair? It's kinda nice like this.
"Venti half-caff mocha latte."
Yes, because nothing says 'big bad' like poncy curls.
"Large iced chai and a grande mocha with a shot of vanilla."
Oh, I don't know. You still look pretty big to me.
But not bad, Slayer?
"Miss?"
But if you’ve been bad, I might have to punish you.
Oh, Slayer, I confess that I have been very, very bad indeed.
“Miss?”
"Um, sorry, could you repeat that?"
“Buffy, get it in gear, please.”
“Sorry. Next?”
I must say, I share your concern for Faith. I will speak to the Council about it.
Do you have any idea what it means, Giles? Who all those girls were?
It's possible they are Potentials, or perhaps previous Slayers, or even women who've survived due to your work.
So, in other words, no clue.
Quite.
"Here you go, have a nice day!"
The poem...
Frost, yeah, I know. We read it junior year. He was a poet, you know.
I know who Robert Frost is.
Not Frost, Spike.
I beg your pardon?
Spike was a poet, before he was Spike. Dawn swears he told her this while I was gone.
Well, that is most interesting.
"I said light whip. What the hell is this? Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"
Um, I should probably tell you, Spike and I are... uh, see after you left we sorta...
My dear girl, I know. Please under no circumstance provide any details.
You're mad.
I am concerned. Do be careful, Buffy.
"Hi, what can I get-- You!" She blinked a few times. She was only half-there after all, lost in thoughts about Giles and Spike and handcuffs and whether Faith was going to get shivved in the joint. So she wasn't entirely sure that she was really looking at Riley Finn or just having some sort of caffeine-induced hallucination.
"Sorry to just drop in on you like this, Buffy. I need your help."
Buffy tilted her head up at him. He was so... large. "Were you always this tall?"
"I..." He squinted at her. "Look, this isn't the way I wanted it. But something's come up, something big. We don't have much time. You understand?"
Riley needed help. The last time she had seen him he was sporting fresh bite marks and giving her ultimatums. She hadn't thought she would ever see him again. Frankly, she was kinda hoping she wouldn't have to. But he needed help demon wrangling, and a sacred duty was a sacred duty.
She glanced at the clock. Lisa was due any minute. There was a line forming behind Riley. Chantal was barista-ing away like the pro she was. Maybe she could handle it until Lisa arrived. "You need my help?"
He nodded.
"Family emergency, Chantal. I gotta go."
"Got it!" the other girl called over her shoulder.
The customers groaned, but she ignored them. Buffy tossed her apron in the hamper and decided she'd come back for her stuff later. Riley marched behind her. "I want to explain, I just don't have time. I've been up for 48 hours straight tracking something bad, and now it's come to Sunnydale."
"Can you tell me anything about it?"
"I know that I'm putting you on the spot, showing up like this, but ... but you know, here we are. I need the best. I need you, Buffy."
She sighed and stopped with her hand on the door. "Riley, you can stop trying to talk me into it. In case you missed it, I'm already on board. Maybe you want to tell me what we're hunting?"
"Look, I'm sorry this is all so sudden. You know, if we get a minute, I'd really like to sit down..."
"Riley. What. Are. We. Hunting?"
He blinked at her and handed her something black and shiny from his pack. "Suvolte demon. Rare, lethal, nearly extinct, but not nearly enough. It's close."
She turned the toy-looking thing around in her hands and laughed. "Sorry. It's just ... you still carry around all that James Bond stuff. It's so cute! I forgot. Sorry." She gave him a mock salute. "Carry on, soldier."
Riley stared at her for a moment, then just shook his head and adjusted the weapon for her, pressing her finger to the trigger. His hands were so hot. And huge. It felt strange.
There was a nasty roar in the distance. "I think that's our quarry," he informed her.
"Let's go!" she agreed.
--------------
Willow followed her little glowy light, feeling a touch nervous alone in the dark. And tracking Buffy to a spooky old dam? Not feeling safe and secure, at all.
When Buffy called and said she was helping Riley chase some big demon and could she help, Willow was all over it. And her futile watch of the Wells, Meeks, and Levinson houses for signs of basement habitation wasn't exactly exercising her brain much. She'd take about anything to distract herself from thoughts of her little one night stand with Tara, which was apparently a mistake and something they were not ready for.
Or at least that's what Tara had said in the morning. Willow? She was pretty much ready anytime. At least she had succeeded in talking Tara into a coffee date. They could start slowly. She could be patient. Tara was worth it. She knew she was lucky to be getting a second chance with her at all. She’d try and just, you know, avoid thinking about sex in the meantime.
Which Buffy was making difficult. Not that she'd been bubbling over with details of her sex life now that she knew Willow knew about Spike. But based on what little she had said -- which was still too much -- and the perpetual post-orgasmic glow? Willow couldn't help being a little jealous. About the sex-having, not the Spike-having, which was so not her scene.
"Forestry Service! Stay back, ma'am!"
"Um, right. It's Willow, Riley." She peered down over the edge of the crater they were down in. Buffy, Riley, a stranger in black, and a huge dead demon.
"Wills!" Buffy called. "Stay there. We're coming up."
Willow leaned against a tree and waited while they climbed out. Buffy looked jumpy. Willow wasn't sure that the stranger introduced as Mrs. Finn was the problem, but she could tell the couple thought so. "So, mission accomplished?" she asked after a few pleasantries had been exchanged.
"Hardly," Sam Finn explained as they loaded into the car. "That was the mama. She's looking for her eggs and she's way pissed that someone raided her nest."
"We've got to get some rest but then we need to start asking around," Riley went on. "Rumor is some demon in town has them and is looking to sell to the highest bidder."
"We should ask Spike," Willow suggested. Buffy shot her a panicked look.
"Yeah, he's first on my list," Riley agreed.
"What?" Willow exchanged incredulous looks with Buffy. "You think Spike is selling demon babies? I meant he might know something. He kinda keeps his ear to the ground for us these days."
"Yeah, Riley, I, um, would have noticed if there was a stash of eggs in his crypt. I’m there a lot.” Willow saw her wince as Riley’s face went all excuse me. “I... meet him there when he patrols with me,” Buffy covered.
Sam, Riley's wife, looked a little confused. "You're the Slayer and you work with a vampire?"
Buffy chewed her bottom lip. "Spike is... different."
"Hostile Seventeen," Riley said to his wife, who nodded in understanding. "Still want to question him, Buffy."
Buffy was getting pissed off, Willow could tell. At least they were on Revello Drive now. "I can handle Spike, Riley."
"I'll say," Willow whispered. Buffy elbowed her and gave her a sly grin.
"Riley, I'm sure the Slayer knows what she's doing," his wife agreed.
They pulled into the driveway. Inside, Joyce was laying out food, and Dawn was sitting on the couch with a cold look on her face. “Well, looks who’s still alive?” she spat. Willow was glad that for once the anger wasn't aimed at her.
Buffy pulled her aside after a few minutes of uncomfortable chit-chat.. "I have a big favor to ask." Willow nodded. "My stuff is still at The Pump, and I'm hours late to meet Spike." She huffed. "Why doesn't he get a phone?"
"I've got it, Buffy," she assured her friend. “And I’m just gonna guess you want to keep your destination under wraps?”
Buffy stuffed her hands in her back pockets. “It’s so very none of his business and I just don’t want to hear it, you know?” Willow knew. "I'll be back soon."
Willow smiled at her and patted her shoulder. "No you won't."
--------
They had already had the night from hell, driving all the way to Los Angeles and then back with a carful of extended Harris family. And then arriving at Chez Summers to find the Finns? Xander had a feeling the night was going to get even longer.
With Anya happily grilling Sam about their ceremony, it fell to him to chat with Riley. Everyone else was either ignoring the guy or shooting him cold glances. “So, married life; how is it?” He handed the soldier a beer.
Riley nodded his thanks and took a swig. “Why, you nervous?” he teased.
“I love Anya,” Xander pointed out.
“You implying I don’t love Sam?”
Xander sighed. He had been going for friendly but managed to put Riley on the defensive instead. Well, if that was how he wanted to play it… “Just making conversation here, Riley, trying to be polite because I’m still a little sore at you for making me look like an ass.”
He really, really was. Willow said it was because he had a ‘schoolboy crush’ on Riley, which Anya had helpfully explained didn’t mean he wanted to sleep with Riley, just that he thought Riley was super neat and liked being around him. Which sounded about right. He still wasn’t quite sure what women saw in men, much less entertained the notion himself. But there had been a kick in having another regular guy around, even if Riley was a fairly exotic flavor of regular.
“How’s that?” Riley demanded, breaking into his reverie.
Xander flinched at the memory. “Right before you flew off, I gave Buffy some big speech about love and risk and what a great guy you are. Of course I didn’t know at the time that you were renting yourself out as a snack because you couldn’t deal with loving someone stronger than you.”
“You only wanted me around because it was like you boning her by proxy.”
“I—what!?” Xander stared at him incredulously.
“You’re into Buffy. Even now. That’s why you’re so panicky about marrying Anya.”
“I’m only jumpy about the wedding. I’m psyched about being married to Anya.”
“Sweetie?” Anya was suddenly in the doorway. “What do you think about disposable cameras? Sam says we should put them on the tables at the reception so the guests can take pictures and leave them for us.”
Xander took a deep breath. “It sounds like we’d be paying a bunch of money to develop grainy pictures taken by drunken amateurs?”
“I had not considered the expense involved, Xander. You’re so clever!” Anya beamed at him. Right. He totally wasn’t head over heels for this. “Oh, I apologize for interrupting your awkward and heated conversation, but Willow asked me to tell you that Buffy left, and that she called the Sunnydale Arms. They’ve got vacancies.”
“Buffy left? It’s so late. Is she living in the dorms again?”
“Oh, she went to see Sp—special new guy, her special new guy.”
Riley drained his beer. “She didn’t mention a new guy. Good for her.”
Good for her? Yeah, maybe he was.
--------
Dennis startled her by coming out of the walk-in fridge as she was coming out of The Pump's employee bathroom. She'd finally made it back to The Espresso Pump for her stuff and she was in a hurry. Chantal reported that some blond guy had coming look for her and didn't seem to like it when she explained about the man in black and the family emergency.
Buffy just hoped he was home. "Spike?" She cracked the door open. She could hear music, low and moany, so she went in. "I'm sorry I'm late. You really need to get a phone."
He was in his chair, shirtless, a bleeding gash on his arm and a bottle in his hand. "Thought you'd be off snogging soldier boy."
She crossed her arms. "What? You thought I would ch--" cheat on you. That was what she was going to say. Which implied that they were a couple. Like, really a couple. Hadn't they been one for a while, really?
Apparently she needed to make that clearer for him. She crossed the room and straddled his lap. "I wouldn't do that, okay?" She kissed him. "Is that why you're drinking by yourself, sitting in the dark listening to The Cure?"
He snorted. "The Smiths, Slayer. Completely ignorant, you are."
"Whatever," she snitted. She gave him a hard time, but really the only ones he played that were so heavy they gave her a headache were the Sex Pistols. The Ramones were kinda fun. And it wasn’t all punk; there was a spooky overlap with Giles’s music collection, actually. "You really think I'm that kind of girl?"
"Didn't know that I had a claim on you."
She rolled her eyes. "You're my guy now," she whispered against his lips. “Okay? Is that official enough for you?” She gestured for emphasis. “You, me, together.”
"That so, Slayer?"
"That's so." She took the bottle away and guided his hand into her jacket so he could feel everything she wasn't wearing underneath it. "You're hurt," she remarked, examining the wound on his arm.
He waved her off. "Just a scratch. Already healing up. Ran into a nasty Faryl on patrol."
"You patrolled without me?" She pouted at him. It had the desired effect. He pulled her in tight, working one hand between them so he could unbutton her coat while he kissed her.
"You were busy," he reminded her while she caught her breath. "Running around with G.I. Joe."
"Yeah, there was a big demon and there's this whole mystery going on..." His tongue swirled around a nipple. "Which I'll tell you about later," she decided aloud.
Spike laughed and the vibration sent a trill up her spine. "Thought you'd gone from me, Buffy."
He turned his attention to the other breast. When she could speak again she told him "Don't want to go from you." She pulled back so she could see his eyes. "Come to the wedding with me."
His face was all confused looking, but he didn't stop stroking her breast.
"Come to the wedding with me," she repeated. "You know, like a date. We'll drink cheap champagne and do the Electric Slide."
He snorted, trying to cover how pleased he was, but she was getting pretty good at reading him. "Not bloody likely."
"Oh come on, Spike," she teased, reaching down to cup him through his jeans. "I'll make it worth it. Besides," she popped the button on his fly and tugged at the zipper, "you know you wanna dance."
The floor of the crypt was cold under her knees, and she dimly realized that she hadn't done this since regaining her visibility. He hadn't asked and it hadn't really crossed her mind because they were so busy doing other stuff. The shower would have been a good time. She'd remember that the next time her mom went out of town.
She eased her lips down the cool length of him and twirled her tongue around him on the upstroke. He moaned in a gratifying way and clutched at the arms of the chair. She hadn’t done this much, period. With Riley it had been like a diversionary tactic when she didn’t feel up for much or needed to get home to study. Get him off and get out. Spike would be up again in five minutes.
Which was insane and wonderful and intense. And would he like her hand wrapped around what wouldn’t fit in her mouth?
"Christ, Slayer."
Yahtzee. Anyway, comparing Spike-sex and Riley-sex was …. It’s not like sex with Riley had been bad, it had just been… well, not vanilla. More like Neapolitan. Sex with Spike was like all thirty-one flavors plus chocolate syrup and whipped cream. He wasn't really a man, but real men were so delicate. Spike wasn't delicate, at least not physically, and he knew she wasn't either.
"Oh, Buffy."
And she hadn't been enough for a real man. She was enough for Spike. He let her know that every time she was with him, that she was his world. And at the same time, he asked so little of her. Of course, he was probably afraid to ask for too much. Hence the lack requests for blow jobs or dinner dates.
"Your mouth, oh yes, harder - like that. Ah..."
He was so utterly hers. Her own scary, sexy, devoted vampire.
"So good, Buffy. Do any sodding dance you like, love."
She laughed around him and he spent. He wore an expression of utter contentment for a moment and when he looked at her, his eyes were dopey with love. She felt a thrill she knew she shouldn't. "Didn't have to do that, you know. I'd have gone anywhere with you just for the asking."
"You complaining?" she asked with a wry smile.
He snuffed and grabbed her hand to kiss it. "Come up here, pet, let me thank you properly."
Buffy settled into the chair with him once more. "Do you love me?" she asked quietly.
The hopeful look on his face was hard to see. She wished he'd give up on the idea of her loving him back. Because she couldn't do that. Even if she was starting to like him to an extent that kinda resembled love.
"You know I love you, Buffy." She closed her eyes for a moment. Riley had said that too, but then he's stopped somehow. How long would Spike love her? "You're my girl," he told her, his tone making it sound like a prayer. This one just might last.
"Do you want me?" she asked coyly, sliding her hands up his sides to his shoulders. She could feel the answer already.
"Always," he assured her. He gave her his best rakish grin and captured her mouth in a fierce kiss.
She couldn't love him, but she intended to enjoy him.
----------
Waking up with the Slayer in his arms was never going to get old for Spike. In the beginning she'd barely deigned to stay in his bed and rolled away from him when she did. Since the row over the dead girl, she'd been increasingly sweeter. Maybe it was finding out about Forehead Junior. Either way, more and more often she’d burrow under the covers with him, making him warm and dozy, leaving him longing for her that much more when he went to bed alone.
The previous evening flashed across the back of his eyelids as he nuzzled her shoulder. After declaring a number of times that he was hers, she seemed to want to test the extent of his submission, and he was only too willing to comply. The Slayer was familiar with chains for her work, but took to the repurposing like a natural. Surprised him by digging up a scrap of silk for a blindfold, and then proceeded to torture him with a series of alternating soft and sharp caresses until it was nearly impossible to obey her order not to come until she said so. Then when she had worked him back up again, she’d removed the blind so he could fully experience her going at him with the desperation of a sailor on leave. Bouncing hair, heaving breasts, pretty pink mouth calling his name again and again; her eyes glued to his as she clenched around him.
He was almost, but not quite, enough of a ponce to say that this was even more fantastic. To have her cozy and hot against him, her golden hair brushing his arms and torso, tight bum resting against his waking erection, throat bare and undefended because she knew he was hers; this was what poems were made of. But he’d found other ways to channel his creative impulses. In fact, he could think of a number of creative ways to wake her up, but he wasn’t interested in performing for this particular audience.
Then again waking up with Buffy in his arms with Riley sodding Finn as witness? That was just, well he wouldn’t normally use the word, but delicious. He nuzzled her shoulder. “Wake up, pet. We’ve got company.”
Buffy mumbled something incoherent and squirmed against him. But when Riley finally lifted his jaw off the floor and managed to say her name, her eyes went wide. Spike braced himself.
She goggled at Riley and pulled the covers tighter around her. “I’m… what time is it?” she asked, her voice drowsy. Under the blanket her fingers brushed against his thigh. He felt his eyebrows creeping up. Perhaps she had really meant it, all her sweet talk last night.
“What time is it?” Soldier Boy repeated incredulously. “You’re asking me what time it is?”
Buffy blew a stray strand of hair off her face. “Yeah. I was supposed to meet you guys, right? Am I late?”
Cardboard shook his head. “He’s got the eggs, Buffy. And if he’s not keeping them properly refrigerated, they could hatch any minute.”
Spike sneered at Finn. “What the bleeding hell is he on about?”
Buffy sat up, pulling the blankets up with her. “He thinks you’re suddenly an international arms dealer.”
“Well, isn’t that neat.”
“Someone’s selling Suvolte eggs. Riley thinks it’s you.” She screwed up her face. “Was this just a hunch, or did someone give you some bad intel?”
He puffed up all many like. “We got a very specific tip that the dealer is someone who works with the Slayer. Willy said he even chose his codename because of you.”
“Oh well, Willy,” Spike snorted. “There’s a reliable source.” Dealing in Suvolte eggs? Bloke would need a lot of stupid or a lot of swagger to pull that off.
But the Slayer had a thoughtful look on. “What’s the codename?”
“The Doctor.”
“Ohmigod!” Buffy pulled the sheet tight and stood up, leaving the rest of the covers to pool around him. “It’s Dennis.” Buffy grabbed some clothes and disappeared behind a beam.
“Who or what is Dennis?”
“Slayer’s coworker at the coffee place. Lushokite.”
Buffy shot him an apologetic look. “I’ll be back soon.” She turned her gaze to Riley. “He should be on first shift. Let’s go.” Riley nodded.
Spike sighed and shifted on the mattress. Then something caught his notice. “Um, love?” He uncovered his left foot and rattled the chain. The others they’d undone before falling asleep, but apparently they’d missed the one. She sighed and searched the floor for the key, then tossed it to him.
“You keep him chained up?”
“Oh, uh, no.” Buffy turned crimson. “Those are just… recreational.”
Yes, delicious was indeed the word.
------------------------------
Joyce brought the young man his cup of coffee and took a seat across from him. Upstairs the shower was still going and an awkward silence was settling in as they waited for Buffy.
“I heard your health is much better, Ms. Summers,” Riley ventured.
Joyce took a sip of coffee and looked over the rim of her cup at him. “Yes, thank you. You look well, Riley. Married life agrees with you.”
“Yeah.” His smile looked genuine enough. “Sam’s great.” He set his cup down and leaned forward, elbows on knees, like he had a secret to share. “I’m worried about Buffy though, Ms. Summers.”
“She’s been through a lot since you were last here,” she reminded him. She had liked Riley well enough, but she hadn’t been terribly surprised when things ended. How things ended, well, that had been more of a shock. He did seem so terribly normal.
“Yeah. I get that. Death is not a minor event.” He stirred his coffee. “Still. The whole thing with Spike…” Joyce hid her expression by taking another drink. “You know she’s in love with him, right?” She raised her eyebrows. “The look on her face, when she talks about him… If she’d looked at me like that just once, I never would have gotten on that helicopter.”
“Ugh. I didn’t think I was ever going to get all the yolk out of my hair,” Buffy announced as she descended the staircase.
“Egg yolk is good for your hair,” Joyce informed her daughter. “It’s a natural conditioner.”
“Even when it’s blue?” Buffy challenged.
Joyce lifted her hands in defeat. “It was nice to see you again, Riley. Be careful on your mission.” She rinsed out the coffee cups while Buffy and Riley said their good-byes on the porch. “That seemed pretty civil,” she commented when Buffy came back in.
Her daughter shrugged. “We’re both sorry about how things ended, even though it’s good that we ended.” She shook her head. “Married though. I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Did you ever think you and Riley would get married?”
Buffy studied her hands. “I don’t know. Maybe. I never really thought about it very seriously. I mean, I had all these dumb fantasies when I was in high school about Angel magically becoming human and how we’d live happily ever after. That just feels like a million years ago now.” She blew out a breath. “I’ll never get married.”
Joyce leaned against the sink, feeling a bit weary. “What, no floral arrangements for us to argue over?”
“You can do that with Dawn,” her daughter said glibly as she fixed herself a cup of coffee. “Dawn will get married and probably have a whole passel of kids that I’ll never get to s—sit for often enough for her,” she covered.
That I’ll never get to see. Worse than knowing Buffy didn’t think she had long to live was seeing that she was resigned to it. Joyce made a note to herself to call Giles again. The ‘birth to legions’ prophecy could be another red herring, or turn out to be something horrible, but she was holding on to the idea that if nothing else, it indicated some sort of future for her daughter.
“I have Saturday off,” Buffy reminded her. “Wanna rent a movie or do some retail therapy? Play like you’ve got a nice normal daughter who didn’t just rinse demon goo out of her hair?”
Joyce patted said hair. “I’d like that, but Buffy, I don’t want to feel like you have to pretend with me.”
Buffy smiled. “When I’m with you, it’s not pretending. Then it’s just part of who I am.”
Who you are, Joyce mused. A little blond shoe hound with a part-time job in a coffee shop and a full-time job fighting evil who has fallen for a vampire and doesn’t seem to know it yet. Who might not live out the decade. Truth be told, no, Joyce wouldn’t mind pretending that things were nice and normal for a few hours.
-----
So, I just couldn’t bring myself to have a bash-a-thon or to have Riley catch them flagrante. And I fear the Joyce section is a bit weak, but this chapter just exhausted me somehow. Next time: the wedding day.
Hell's Bells
Author’s Note: Thanks as always to Kar and my reviewers. You guys are really making this a great time for me. This chapter is a fluffy bit of nothing before the Big Badness of the season starts making itself known. I’ve updated my outline for the last few installments and hopefully I’ll be able to get them written in a timely fashion.
In our fifteenth installment there is much fluff.
Chapter Fifteen: Hell’s Bells
“So… you ready for this?”
“I guess so. Yeah, now that the pounding has stopped. Can you help me with this thing?”
“Sure. Um, how did you get it this knotted up to begin with, Xander?”
“Possibly it has something to do with the five quarts of bachelor beer.”
“Yeah, anyone watching last night might have thought you were, you know, nervous.”
"Mostly I was nervous that the guys expected you to join in with the entertainment. Speaking of which, please don't mention that to Anya."
"No problem. I could tell by your total panic that it wasn't your idea. There you go. It's so strange... just remembering there was a time when I imagined I'd be the one taking your tie off on your wedding day."
"Do you need help with yours, or are you good?"
"I'm good."
"The whole semi-drag thing really works for you, Wills."
"Yeah? I like it. Kinda Marlene Dietrichy. You look good too, by the way. How do you feel?"
"Like I want to throw up. But, you know, in a good way? Oh man. You really think I can do this? Without turning into my dad or otherwise fucking up royally?"
"Yeah, I do."
"Hey, that's my line."
"Come on, you big dummy, let's get you married."
---------
Maybe it was all the champagne, but Buffy was having the best time.
Aside from taking care of a potential crasher demon-guy before the nuptials began, it had been your average lovely ceremony. Well, as average as it could be considering how many guests on the bride’s side had horns or hooves or both. The reception was turning into one hell of a party too.
Spike could dance, as it happened. Well, waltz anyway. Now with Devon spinning faster songs, he’d declared himself done for a while. They’d nibbled a few things from the buffet and had a few glasses of champagne. Now he seemed happy enough watching her boogie down with Xander and Willow. Xander was practically neon he was glowing so brightly. He kept asking, “Can you believe she went through with it?” After a couple of songs, Xander wandered off to share his exuberance with some of the other guests. Which left her and Willow shimmying together on the dance floor.
“Yikes!” Willow hissed, looking over Buffy’s shoulder.
“What?” Buffy shouted over the music.
“Um, your boyfriend? I kinda think his face needs a parental advisory warning right now,” Willow explained.
Buffy spun them around and… yeah. Spike’s expression was so suggestive that her skin immediately went pink. “I’m so gonna kick his ass,” she muttered.
Willow giggled. “Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure that’s the response he’s looking for.”
She put on her most firm air. “He is so not allowed to picture my friends all… naked and writhing.”
Willow blinked a few times. “Writhing… so there’s…. writhing with Spike?”
He was doing the tongue thing, so yeah, writhage. But when she opened her mouth, something else came out. “Did you just call him my boyfriend?”
“Well, I… I mean, is he not your boyfriend?”
Buffy frowned. “No. I mean, he is, it’s just boyfriend sounds so… Hi, I’m Buffy and this is my boyfriend, Spike. It sounds so… like I’m some trust fund baby trying to piss off the parentals.” She batted her eyes for effect. “But Mom, he’s so dreamy and deeply misunderstood. He’s in a band and rides a motorcycle.”
“He does drive a motorcycle.”
The song ended before Willow could grill her further, and they parted to get refreshments. Buffy watched her friend chatting happily with Tara and smiled to herself. Maybe things would work out for Willow after all. She snagged a couple of fresh glasses of champagne and wandered toward her boyfriend. He looked so normal in the black slacks and oxford shirt. Nobody would know he was a vampire, she mused, until he sank his teeth in. She banished that thought because Spike didn’t do that anymore.
He was slouched comfortably in the chair, tie undone and collar open. Spike owned a tie? But then Spike had probably worn all sorts of things before finding and sticking to the Billy Idol look. His arm looped around her waist and his face turned up to hers in a way that immediately took her mind off his past feeding habits.
“Sorry pet, did I put the witch off with my earthy masculinity?”
She kicked at his ankle. “Willow’s not much for masculinity, earthy or otherwise. But you keep looking at my friends like that, and your masculinity is off my menu.”
He raised an eyebrow. “But the other guests are fair game?”
Before she could get in a decent retort, Dawn bustled over. “You have to dance with me, Spike, you promised!”
“Not to bloody ABBA, I don’t,” he protested firmly. “Next one, Niblet.”
“Okay,” Dawn huffed. She swiped a champagne glass off a passing waiter’s tray.
Buffy smirked at her, but it was Spike who spoke up. “Bit young, aren’t you?”
“Whatever, Spike. Buffy doesn’t care, so why should you?”
“Good point.” He smiled indulgently at her.
“Just don’t let Mom smell it on you,” Buffy advised, “and stop before you puke.” Dawn was old enough to indulge a smidge. It wasn’t like she was going to drive home.
Dawn grinned. “In that case, I’m having another glass.” She took off after the waiter.
Spike pulled Buffy in close. “Let’s escape before she comes back for that dance, pet. Has to be a coat closet or some such around here.”
Buffy sat up and put on the most prim demeanor she could manage while sitting on her vampire’s knee. “No, Spike. It is important to keep your promises.” She tilted her head at him. “After all, you want me to keep my promises, don’t you?” She leaned in and whispered something champagne-inspired in his ear.
So when the opening notes of “More Than A Woman” began to stream from the speakers, he obediently led Dawn out onto the floor. Buffy sat back and sipped at her glass while the two of them twirled around. Spike was pretending to hate every second of it, but it was clear that both of them were having a great time. Everyone was having a great time. Buffy relaxed into her seat and generally enjoyed life being pleasant for once.
Anya waved her over. “I’m so happy! Do I look happy?” she demanded. Her eyes looked feverish. “I am going to throw my bouquet to the less fortunate women in the crowd. Do you wish to participate?”
“I’ll sit this one out,” she answered wryly. “But yeah, you look happy. Kind of insane with the happy, but happy.”
She was watching the other single gals line up when she felt his arms come around her from behind. “Got a surprise for you, pet,” he rumbled into her neck.
“Really hate surprises, Spike.” In Buffyworld surprises tended to involve blades or rituals or kidnapping. They were really not her favorite.
“You’ll like this one,” he countered.
One of Xander’s aunts caught the flowers. There was a lot of hooting and yelling and then happy couple was gone and the party began to disperse. Dawn assured her she’d be riding home with Willow, and then Spike was guiding her toward the elevators.
“Got us a room here for the night, Slayer. Thought it might be a nice change, being abed above ground.”
This was a surprise she could handle. There was a familiar duffel bag by the desk inside and a silver bucket of champagne – like she needed more. Remember to hydrate she told herself. She gave Spike a faux-glare. “So Dawn packs me a bag, and you had to dance with her?”
“Danced with her out of the kindness of my heart,” he whispered against her neck, already working loose the fastenings on her dress. The kindness of his heart. His cold, black, dead – why was she dwelling? They had been having such a great night. “Just keeping my promise,” he pointed out between nips at her now bare shoulders. “And I seem to recall, Miss Summers, that you made a few promises yourself.”
She was going to smart off something in that same tone, but she realized she didn’t know what the heck to call him. Mr. The Bloody? They’d been sleeping together for months and she didn’t even know his last name.
She’d never known Angel’s name at all.
Spike’s sharp intake of breath brought her swiftly back into the moment. Ah. So good call on the undergarments. She stepped out of the dress and stalked toward the bed. She untied the side of the thong and lay there in just the white stockings and garter belt, hoping she looked sexy and confident instead of nervous as hell.
Apparently Spike was fooled, or at least willing to play along. He slipped his tie into the bedside table and she licked her lips at the thought of all the ways he might be planning on using it later. He began unbuttoning the shirt but when he started to shrug it off, she stopped him. “Leave it on,” she husked. “Looks good on you.”
“That so, Slayer?”
She hoped she wasn’t turning all pink again. “You know, with the accent, it’s kind of… James Bond.”
Buffy had expected him to laugh, but instead he looked inordinately pleased with himself. “Ah, Miss Moneypenny,” he purred into her ear, “I am finally going to demonstrate some of my special training for you.”
A thought floated up as he began his demonstration, a thought that she pushed aside as hastily as the ones about his previous dietary habits. A thought she promised herself she’d investigate further, if she wasn’t fortunate enough to forget it by the time she was done double-ohing.
But the thought probably wasn’t going away. And that thought was: I think I kinda love this guy.
------------
Next time: No, I haven’t forgotten about that prophecy.
In our fifteenth installment there is much fluff.
Chapter Fifteen: Hell’s Bells
“So… you ready for this?”
“I guess so. Yeah, now that the pounding has stopped. Can you help me with this thing?”
“Sure. Um, how did you get it this knotted up to begin with, Xander?”
“Possibly it has something to do with the five quarts of bachelor beer.”
“Yeah, anyone watching last night might have thought you were, you know, nervous.”
"Mostly I was nervous that the guys expected you to join in with the entertainment. Speaking of which, please don't mention that to Anya."
"No problem. I could tell by your total panic that it wasn't your idea. There you go. It's so strange... just remembering there was a time when I imagined I'd be the one taking your tie off on your wedding day."
"Do you need help with yours, or are you good?"
"I'm good."
"The whole semi-drag thing really works for you, Wills."
"Yeah? I like it. Kinda Marlene Dietrichy. You look good too, by the way. How do you feel?"
"Like I want to throw up. But, you know, in a good way? Oh man. You really think I can do this? Without turning into my dad or otherwise fucking up royally?"
"Yeah, I do."
"Hey, that's my line."
"Come on, you big dummy, let's get you married."
---------
Maybe it was all the champagne, but Buffy was having the best time.
Aside from taking care of a potential crasher demon-guy before the nuptials began, it had been your average lovely ceremony. Well, as average as it could be considering how many guests on the bride’s side had horns or hooves or both. The reception was turning into one hell of a party too.
Spike could dance, as it happened. Well, waltz anyway. Now with Devon spinning faster songs, he’d declared himself done for a while. They’d nibbled a few things from the buffet and had a few glasses of champagne. Now he seemed happy enough watching her boogie down with Xander and Willow. Xander was practically neon he was glowing so brightly. He kept asking, “Can you believe she went through with it?” After a couple of songs, Xander wandered off to share his exuberance with some of the other guests. Which left her and Willow shimmying together on the dance floor.
“Yikes!” Willow hissed, looking over Buffy’s shoulder.
“What?” Buffy shouted over the music.
“Um, your boyfriend? I kinda think his face needs a parental advisory warning right now,” Willow explained.
Buffy spun them around and… yeah. Spike’s expression was so suggestive that her skin immediately went pink. “I’m so gonna kick his ass,” she muttered.
Willow giggled. “Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure that’s the response he’s looking for.”
She put on her most firm air. “He is so not allowed to picture my friends all… naked and writhing.”
Willow blinked a few times. “Writhing… so there’s…. writhing with Spike?”
He was doing the tongue thing, so yeah, writhage. But when she opened her mouth, something else came out. “Did you just call him my boyfriend?”
“Well, I… I mean, is he not your boyfriend?”
Buffy frowned. “No. I mean, he is, it’s just boyfriend sounds so… Hi, I’m Buffy and this is my boyfriend, Spike. It sounds so… like I’m some trust fund baby trying to piss off the parentals.” She batted her eyes for effect. “But Mom, he’s so dreamy and deeply misunderstood. He’s in a band and rides a motorcycle.”
“He does drive a motorcycle.”
The song ended before Willow could grill her further, and they parted to get refreshments. Buffy watched her friend chatting happily with Tara and smiled to herself. Maybe things would work out for Willow after all. She snagged a couple of fresh glasses of champagne and wandered toward her boyfriend. He looked so normal in the black slacks and oxford shirt. Nobody would know he was a vampire, she mused, until he sank his teeth in. She banished that thought because Spike didn’t do that anymore.
He was slouched comfortably in the chair, tie undone and collar open. Spike owned a tie? But then Spike had probably worn all sorts of things before finding and sticking to the Billy Idol look. His arm looped around her waist and his face turned up to hers in a way that immediately took her mind off his past feeding habits.
“Sorry pet, did I put the witch off with my earthy masculinity?”
She kicked at his ankle. “Willow’s not much for masculinity, earthy or otherwise. But you keep looking at my friends like that, and your masculinity is off my menu.”
He raised an eyebrow. “But the other guests are fair game?”
Before she could get in a decent retort, Dawn bustled over. “You have to dance with me, Spike, you promised!”
“Not to bloody ABBA, I don’t,” he protested firmly. “Next one, Niblet.”
“Okay,” Dawn huffed. She swiped a champagne glass off a passing waiter’s tray.
Buffy smirked at her, but it was Spike who spoke up. “Bit young, aren’t you?”
“Whatever, Spike. Buffy doesn’t care, so why should you?”
“Good point.” He smiled indulgently at her.
“Just don’t let Mom smell it on you,” Buffy advised, “and stop before you puke.” Dawn was old enough to indulge a smidge. It wasn’t like she was going to drive home.
Dawn grinned. “In that case, I’m having another glass.” She took off after the waiter.
Spike pulled Buffy in close. “Let’s escape before she comes back for that dance, pet. Has to be a coat closet or some such around here.”
Buffy sat up and put on the most prim demeanor she could manage while sitting on her vampire’s knee. “No, Spike. It is important to keep your promises.” She tilted her head at him. “After all, you want me to keep my promises, don’t you?” She leaned in and whispered something champagne-inspired in his ear.
So when the opening notes of “More Than A Woman” began to stream from the speakers, he obediently led Dawn out onto the floor. Buffy sat back and sipped at her glass while the two of them twirled around. Spike was pretending to hate every second of it, but it was clear that both of them were having a great time. Everyone was having a great time. Buffy relaxed into her seat and generally enjoyed life being pleasant for once.
Anya waved her over. “I’m so happy! Do I look happy?” she demanded. Her eyes looked feverish. “I am going to throw my bouquet to the less fortunate women in the crowd. Do you wish to participate?”
“I’ll sit this one out,” she answered wryly. “But yeah, you look happy. Kind of insane with the happy, but happy.”
She was watching the other single gals line up when she felt his arms come around her from behind. “Got a surprise for you, pet,” he rumbled into her neck.
“Really hate surprises, Spike.” In Buffyworld surprises tended to involve blades or rituals or kidnapping. They were really not her favorite.
“You’ll like this one,” he countered.
One of Xander’s aunts caught the flowers. There was a lot of hooting and yelling and then happy couple was gone and the party began to disperse. Dawn assured her she’d be riding home with Willow, and then Spike was guiding her toward the elevators.
“Got us a room here for the night, Slayer. Thought it might be a nice change, being abed above ground.”
This was a surprise she could handle. There was a familiar duffel bag by the desk inside and a silver bucket of champagne – like she needed more. Remember to hydrate she told herself. She gave Spike a faux-glare. “So Dawn packs me a bag, and you had to dance with her?”
“Danced with her out of the kindness of my heart,” he whispered against her neck, already working loose the fastenings on her dress. The kindness of his heart. His cold, black, dead – why was she dwelling? They had been having such a great night. “Just keeping my promise,” he pointed out between nips at her now bare shoulders. “And I seem to recall, Miss Summers, that you made a few promises yourself.”
She was going to smart off something in that same tone, but she realized she didn’t know what the heck to call him. Mr. The Bloody? They’d been sleeping together for months and she didn’t even know his last name.
She’d never known Angel’s name at all.
Spike’s sharp intake of breath brought her swiftly back into the moment. Ah. So good call on the undergarments. She stepped out of the dress and stalked toward the bed. She untied the side of the thong and lay there in just the white stockings and garter belt, hoping she looked sexy and confident instead of nervous as hell.
Apparently Spike was fooled, or at least willing to play along. He slipped his tie into the bedside table and she licked her lips at the thought of all the ways he might be planning on using it later. He began unbuttoning the shirt but when he started to shrug it off, she stopped him. “Leave it on,” she husked. “Looks good on you.”
“That so, Slayer?”
She hoped she wasn’t turning all pink again. “You know, with the accent, it’s kind of… James Bond.”
Buffy had expected him to laugh, but instead he looked inordinately pleased with himself. “Ah, Miss Moneypenny,” he purred into her ear, “I am finally going to demonstrate some of my special training for you.”
A thought floated up as he began his demonstration, a thought that she pushed aside as hastily as the ones about his previous dietary habits. A thought she promised herself she’d investigate further, if she wasn’t fortunate enough to forget it by the time she was done double-ohing.
But the thought probably wasn’t going away. And that thought was: I think I kinda love this guy.
------------
Next time: No, I haven’t forgotten about that prophecy.
Potential for Normal
Author’s Notes: A big thank you to my beta Kar and to my reviewers. Special thanks to zanthinegirl and zoegrace, whose discussions with me helped me sort some of this out for myself. This one took awhile to get through and I appreciate your patience. Big things are on the horizon and I needed to set the stage properly. Please keep the feedback coming.
In our sixteenth installment Dawn struggles to understand Spike, Buffy makes a statement, and Willow gets some insight from an unlikely source.
Chapter Sixteen: Potential for Normal
Dawn sighed and moved quickly out of the way so Spike could rush in before getting any more singed than he already was. If he would just get a phone like a reasonable person, he wouldn’t have to run around looking for Buffy during daylight hours. Couldn’t he get one of those pre-paid ones or whatever like drug dealers used? Or maybe he was too cool for a cell phone, like having one would be an acknowledgement that he was really at her sister’s beck and call.
Dawn spritzed the kitchen with some Glade to cover the smell. "I thought you were the pizza guy," she moped.
"Nice to see you too, Bit. How your mum?"
Right, like Mom was his big concern. "Mom's fine. She's out with Brian again. Hence the ordering of pizza. Buffy's not here. She took another double shift."
"Again?" He tossed the blanket on the counter. "She's working too hard," he muttered.
Dawn rolled her eyes. "You're just mad because it means she doesn't have time for your daily sex romps."
"Came to see you, Bit," he protested lamely.
"Whatever. She's avoiding you. If you wanted to see me, it was just to pump me for info on my big sister." Spike gave her a little shrug that confirmed her suspicions. Like, thanks for the big protest that he indeed cared she existed anymore.
How much to tell him? She'd overheard what Buffy had said to Tara. I think I'm falling for him, like really falling for him, but I need some time to figure this out. Buffy was finally leaving the state of denial, which was totally good, but Spike was going to blow the whole thing if he didn't give her some room to fret and spazz and froth and then calm herself back down.
"She's figured out that she's in love with you, dumbass, and she needs some time to wig and get over it. So just chill for awhile and you'll be fine."
Spike's face contorted through about five hundred emotions. He landed on pissed off. "Right. Know when I love someone I want to avoid seeing 'em for a week."
"Well, the last time you fell in love with someone it probably didn't result in a bunch of people getting killed in really nasty ways." Off his look, she amended. "Actually I guess maybe it did, you just didn't care."
"Vampire, Bit," he reminded her.
There it was, the reason Buffy was freaked about being in love with Spike. Because he didn't care. Answering the door for the actual pizza guy gave her a chance to formulate a response, but she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know more.
He bit into a slice while she grabbed herself a soda and handed him one of the beers Buffy was keeping in the fridge now, despite Mom's sour faces about it. “Thanks, pet. Sauce makes my mouth a bit fizzy.”
“Right, the garlic.” Dawn tilted her head at him and watched him eat for a moment. “It doesn’t make you all hissy and quavery?” She imitated the typical ‘backing away from the cross’ maneuver she’d seen more than a few vampires perform.
His smirk was profound. “Loses its potency in the cooking or something. Feels a bit lively is all, like those Pop Rocks powers you kept buying this summer.”
Dawn picked at a piece of pepperoni. "You still don't really care, do you?" She just couldn’t help herself. “Like, you care that Buffy doesn’t like it, but you’re not personally bothered by it.”
Spike studied her for a minute. "You particularly care that your pizza topping used to be alive?"
She wrinkled her nose. "So not the same thing! People are not pigs, Spike, and pigs aren't people. And I don't get my kicks maiming and torturing pigs."
"Angel was the one who fancied torture, Bit. I was just looking for dinner." He quirked a brow. "And, maybe a spot of fun."
Dawn swallowed. "So Buffy and I are just like special little Wilburs to you? Pigs who can do a neat trick and that gets us out of the line to the slaughterhouse?"
He frowned intensely. "Not killing anyone these days, my girl, in case you haven't noticed." He sighed wistfully. "Don't even dream about it anymore."
Well, that was something, she guessed. Maybe that was the most they could expect from him, really, to stop looking at people as potential entrees.
He tipped back the rest of his beer. "Completely fucking tamed," he muttered.
"Is she worth it?"
Spike smiled that genuine smile she had only seen a few times. "Whatever it takes to be hers, pet." He wiped his saucy fingers and pitched his bottle in the recycling bin. "Tell your sister I stopped by, yeah?"
Dawn nodded and watched him tuck the now unneeded blanket under his arm and slink off into the night. She pushed the pizza box away. She'd lost her appetite.
----------
We believe there may be a way to unlock the potentials. A way for you, Buffy, to make Slayers of all of them.
Unlocking the potentials... it sounded like an energy drink ad. It really didn't sound like a great idea. So far it was just a theory, a theory that fit her recurrent dreams and some prophecies and visions. But still a theory. They didn't know how to do it yet, so she had some time to decide whether they should even be thinking about it.
Although she wondered if the Council would really leave it up to her. And was it really her choice to make anyway? Shouldn't the girls get some say in it? It would be the end of a lot of girls' hopes and dreams and genetic lines. They didn't even know how many there were.
Giles said there were fifty-three girls in training, but she hadn't shown up on the Council radar until after she got all Chosen. So how many more like her were out there, going about their normal girl lives? Was it fair to take that away from them and thrust some destiny upon them, all without warning?
Was it fair not to? Every night she was slaying in Sunnydale was a night she wasn't patrolling Dallas or thwarting demon gangs in Tokyo. If there were more Slayers, they could protect more people, fight more evil, right? Wasn't that their duty, their purpose? Maybe it was wrong to even offer a choice.
Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe if there were enough of them, some could even opt out. Or just take a few years off to finish school or whatever. Take a rest.
Maybe she could take a rest. Get her degree. See Paris. Just a short break.
Or was that just time that she was putting some less-seasoned girl at risk so she could live it up a little?
Her head hurt. She knew how to fix that.
But she still had a long walk to Restfield, and she was dragging her feet. She’d stopped avoiding him, but she still wasn’t sure whether to tell him or what to tell him. And, it was like he knew, but then that hopeful look in his eyes every time he said it was nothing sudden. It had been there from the first morning she’d woken up in his bed, even when she was reminding him that she didn’t, couldn’t. But now it turned out that she could, and did. It was just… once she told him, she couldn’t untell him.
So there was that, plus the fact that they still couldn’t find the Trio of Lameness. They must have realized she was gunning for them and had figured out somewhere other than their parents’ houses to hide out. Oh, and then there was the Council’s plan to get Faith out of the slammer, which while she didn’t want Faith getting knifed by the faceless freakos, didn’t strike her as the smartest idea.
Spike wasn’t even in when she got there. Typical. She didn’t always ask him where he went. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Sometimes she found she didn’t really care. Buffy realized that for the most part she trusted him to behave himself. Which was probably what had allowed her heart to overwhelm her head finally.
She grabbed one of his ratty old books and thumbed through it on the bed. It would make him happy to find her there, and that’s what you were supposed to do for people you loved, right? Make them happy? Because she really sucked at that. Or else she made them too happy and complete badness ensued. Which was really the wrong thing to be thinking about in Spike’s bed.
So when he was halfway down the ladder, she tackled him such that they spun into the ancient dresser in the corner. Luckily it could take her weight because with Spike on his knees and her legs wrapped around his head, she really didn’t want to go anywhere. For a good long time. So she sucked at the whole making others happy thing, but at least maybe she’d found one that could make her happy this time.
----------
“Feel better then, pet?”
“Yeah-huh.”
“Want to tell me what had you so twisted up?”
“Nuh-uh.”
He brushed her hair off her face. “Slay-er,” he tried coaxingly.
“Slayer sleep now,” she grumped.
Spike huffed. Apparently she was determined to keep him out of whatever it was. Again. Seeing as how she was all naked and pliant and he’d come thrice, he decided he could wait to pester her about it. He settled in comfortably. “Right then. We’ll talk about it when you wake up.”
“Sounds good,” she mumbled. “Love you, Spike.”
He gaped for a moment while his brain struggled to catch up with his ears. It wasn’t possible that he’d heard her correctly. “Buffy? Do you just say--”
“Yes,” she huffed. “Said I love you, you dope. Now, lemme sleep or I’m taking it back.”
Right. She could sleep after that little revelation, but his entire being was awake and humming. Tempting as it was to plot an inventive way to rouse her and prompt her to repeat that little declaration, Spike decided to quit while he was ahead for once. He settled for a slow sweet kiss and left her to doze while he prowled the upstairs.
Buffy loved him. The Slayer loved him. He’d hoped for it, prayed for it – for all the good prayer did a demon, but he wasn’t quite prepared for it. Suddenly his crypt seemed shabby and stark. Oughtn’t he find a place he and his beloved could share? An apartment above ground with heavy drapes and a place for her to take a nice hot shower after patrol. A desk in the corner where she could do her studies. He could help with her French conjugations and she could persuade him to raise her grade.
All a pipe dream, of course. He and the slayer were never going to keep house together. Completely ludicrous. And his sad Victorian git bits could just shut up about it and enjoy having her in his bed despite how much more delicious the idea of their bed might be.
Buffy’s screams shook him out of his reverie. He grabbed a cool bottle of water from the alcove where he kept them and hopped down to the lower level. She was already awake and leaning forward, clutching her knees. She leaned against him and took the water with a grateful look.
“Bad one this time?”
She nodded. “Stabby squad again. I couldn’t tell who I was this time.”
The dreams or visions or whatever the hell had been visited on his girl had been going on since her birthday party. Increasingly vivid, and unfortunately at least one of the deaths she’d experienced in her sleep had come to pass.
Buffy passed him the empty bottle. “They didn’t get me this time at least.” She sagged into him. “Thanks for, you know, taking care of me.”
“Like taking care of you,” he replied earnestly. If she’d allow him to take care of her properly, he’d hide her away somewhere comfy and possibly European, steady streams of room service and strands of jewels draped over her breasts. No more coffee counters or going out in the night to skewer monsters. Which would make her someone altogether other than Buffy. So, bad plan. This was better. “I love you.”
It earned him a smile and a squeeze on his knee. “I know." But apparently she wasn't going to return the sentiment at his every prompting. He felt a burst of anger ripple through him. Ridiculous the way he lived for her every crumb of affection. Was he supposed to just be grateful she’d ever said it at all? Or maybe she was even pretending now that it had never been voiced?
"Don't get like that," she chided. So apparently his ire was showing. Her mobile rang before he could object. "It's Giles," she informed him, gone all serious, before flipping the phone open.
Whatever the Watcher was telling her, it was bad. Buffy closed her eyes and held her breath like that could keep her from absorbing her Watcher's words. His anger evaporated in the face of her distress. She trusted him enough to let him see how scared she was. Spike considered this and wondered what he had done to deserve this confidence of hers and whether he could possibly keep from fucking it all up in some fantastic way.
------
"Welcome to The Magic Box, may I -- oh, it's you."
Willow barely acknowledged Halfrek's greeting as she swept past her. She climbed up the ladder to the stack of locked shelves. She didn't know what she was going to find in the Watcher's Chronicles that she hadn't found the last dozen times, but she wasn't sure what else to do. Googling 'slayer origins' was only going to produce a bunch of heavy metal articles and Giles was intentionally not helping her research. Which spoke of much badness.
It was quiet in the shop so close to closing time. After the demon had locked up and was counting up the proceeds for the day, Willow raised her eyes to Halfrek. Halfrek jumped back, clearly spooked. Probably it shouldn't be so satisfying to be able to freak out a demon, but Willow couldn't help it.
"How's business?" she asked. Might as well be chatty. Not like the books were telling her anything she didn’t already know.
Hallie shrugged and petted the cash register. "Okay. I don't have Anyanka's gift for retail. Several customers have indicated that they are deferring their business until she returns tomorrow." She made a little humming noise. "Who knew little miss rah-rah proletariat would become such the happy little shop keep?"
Willow filed that little tidbit away. "Well, I guess you see a few philosophies come and go in a millennia or two."
"Oh my yes. I spent some time in Rome in the late 300s. Working for the Vestals, you see. Live burials! They weren't happy about that."
"Vestals? Vestal Virgins? You did, um, vengeance for the Vestal Virgins?"
"Oh yes. Well anyway that's what they called themselves at the time. Before that it was The Guardians or Watchers of Watchers, Hestia's priestesses… you get the idea."
"Watchers of Watchers?" Willow started making notes. Maybe this was something worth looking into. Why didn’t they ever think about asking demons for info like this?
Oh yeah, because most demons? Not real keen on helping the Slayer.
Halfrek’s story could be total crap too, but she just seemed to be bragging, not laying some sort of convoluted trap. If there was some other group that predated the Watcher's Council or even just observed them, then maybe Willow could find out something about the hows and whys of Slayer activation. Or it could be total coincidence. "Like Slayer-Watcher Watchers?"
Halfrek did her irritating humming thing again. "I'm not the Slayer expert. Perhaps you should ask William. He's the one with the Slayer obsession."
"Uh-huh," Willow agreed. "So, you knew Spike a long time ago?"
"Before he was Spike," Halfrek agreed. "Before he was dead. Such a fop! Sad."
Willow's ears perked up. "Really?"
"Oh yes, I was investigating these orphanages in London, posing as Cicely Addams, country cousin to the Underwoods, who were poor William's neighbors." A nasty look passed over her face, one that reminded Willow that the pleasant looking woman behind the counter was really a powerful creature. "Those orphanages. You really can't imagine."
Willow wanted to ask more about pre-vamp Spike, but her phone rang.
"Meeting, my house, first thing tomorrow." Buffy's voice was hard, cold. It was the Slayer talking to her. "Faith's been attacked."
------
There’s so little in canon about the Guardians (from their thirty seconds of screen time), so I decided it was something I could play with. This will start moving quickly from here on out. I will try to update in a timely fashion but the baby’s been sick and my in-laws are coming in for a visit, so no promises. But please review!
In our sixteenth installment Dawn struggles to understand Spike, Buffy makes a statement, and Willow gets some insight from an unlikely source.
Chapter Sixteen: Potential for Normal
Dawn sighed and moved quickly out of the way so Spike could rush in before getting any more singed than he already was. If he would just get a phone like a reasonable person, he wouldn’t have to run around looking for Buffy during daylight hours. Couldn’t he get one of those pre-paid ones or whatever like drug dealers used? Or maybe he was too cool for a cell phone, like having one would be an acknowledgement that he was really at her sister’s beck and call.
Dawn spritzed the kitchen with some Glade to cover the smell. "I thought you were the pizza guy," she moped.
"Nice to see you too, Bit. How your mum?"
Right, like Mom was his big concern. "Mom's fine. She's out with Brian again. Hence the ordering of pizza. Buffy's not here. She took another double shift."
"Again?" He tossed the blanket on the counter. "She's working too hard," he muttered.
Dawn rolled her eyes. "You're just mad because it means she doesn't have time for your daily sex romps."
"Came to see you, Bit," he protested lamely.
"Whatever. She's avoiding you. If you wanted to see me, it was just to pump me for info on my big sister." Spike gave her a little shrug that confirmed her suspicions. Like, thanks for the big protest that he indeed cared she existed anymore.
How much to tell him? She'd overheard what Buffy had said to Tara. I think I'm falling for him, like really falling for him, but I need some time to figure this out. Buffy was finally leaving the state of denial, which was totally good, but Spike was going to blow the whole thing if he didn't give her some room to fret and spazz and froth and then calm herself back down.
"She's figured out that she's in love with you, dumbass, and she needs some time to wig and get over it. So just chill for awhile and you'll be fine."
Spike's face contorted through about five hundred emotions. He landed on pissed off. "Right. Know when I love someone I want to avoid seeing 'em for a week."
"Well, the last time you fell in love with someone it probably didn't result in a bunch of people getting killed in really nasty ways." Off his look, she amended. "Actually I guess maybe it did, you just didn't care."
"Vampire, Bit," he reminded her.
There it was, the reason Buffy was freaked about being in love with Spike. Because he didn't care. Answering the door for the actual pizza guy gave her a chance to formulate a response, but she wasn’t sure she really wanted to know more.
He bit into a slice while she grabbed herself a soda and handed him one of the beers Buffy was keeping in the fridge now, despite Mom's sour faces about it. “Thanks, pet. Sauce makes my mouth a bit fizzy.”
“Right, the garlic.” Dawn tilted her head at him and watched him eat for a moment. “It doesn’t make you all hissy and quavery?” She imitated the typical ‘backing away from the cross’ maneuver she’d seen more than a few vampires perform.
His smirk was profound. “Loses its potency in the cooking or something. Feels a bit lively is all, like those Pop Rocks powers you kept buying this summer.”
Dawn picked at a piece of pepperoni. "You still don't really care, do you?" She just couldn’t help herself. “Like, you care that Buffy doesn’t like it, but you’re not personally bothered by it.”
Spike studied her for a minute. "You particularly care that your pizza topping used to be alive?"
She wrinkled her nose. "So not the same thing! People are not pigs, Spike, and pigs aren't people. And I don't get my kicks maiming and torturing pigs."
"Angel was the one who fancied torture, Bit. I was just looking for dinner." He quirked a brow. "And, maybe a spot of fun."
Dawn swallowed. "So Buffy and I are just like special little Wilburs to you? Pigs who can do a neat trick and that gets us out of the line to the slaughterhouse?"
He frowned intensely. "Not killing anyone these days, my girl, in case you haven't noticed." He sighed wistfully. "Don't even dream about it anymore."
Well, that was something, she guessed. Maybe that was the most they could expect from him, really, to stop looking at people as potential entrees.
He tipped back the rest of his beer. "Completely fucking tamed," he muttered.
"Is she worth it?"
Spike smiled that genuine smile she had only seen a few times. "Whatever it takes to be hers, pet." He wiped his saucy fingers and pitched his bottle in the recycling bin. "Tell your sister I stopped by, yeah?"
Dawn nodded and watched him tuck the now unneeded blanket under his arm and slink off into the night. She pushed the pizza box away. She'd lost her appetite.
----------
We believe there may be a way to unlock the potentials. A way for you, Buffy, to make Slayers of all of them.
Unlocking the potentials... it sounded like an energy drink ad. It really didn't sound like a great idea. So far it was just a theory, a theory that fit her recurrent dreams and some prophecies and visions. But still a theory. They didn't know how to do it yet, so she had some time to decide whether they should even be thinking about it.
Although she wondered if the Council would really leave it up to her. And was it really her choice to make anyway? Shouldn't the girls get some say in it? It would be the end of a lot of girls' hopes and dreams and genetic lines. They didn't even know how many there were.
Giles said there were fifty-three girls in training, but she hadn't shown up on the Council radar until after she got all Chosen. So how many more like her were out there, going about their normal girl lives? Was it fair to take that away from them and thrust some destiny upon them, all without warning?
Was it fair not to? Every night she was slaying in Sunnydale was a night she wasn't patrolling Dallas or thwarting demon gangs in Tokyo. If there were more Slayers, they could protect more people, fight more evil, right? Wasn't that their duty, their purpose? Maybe it was wrong to even offer a choice.
Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe if there were enough of them, some could even opt out. Or just take a few years off to finish school or whatever. Take a rest.
Maybe she could take a rest. Get her degree. See Paris. Just a short break.
Or was that just time that she was putting some less-seasoned girl at risk so she could live it up a little?
Her head hurt. She knew how to fix that.
But she still had a long walk to Restfield, and she was dragging her feet. She’d stopped avoiding him, but she still wasn’t sure whether to tell him or what to tell him. And, it was like he knew, but then that hopeful look in his eyes every time he said it was nothing sudden. It had been there from the first morning she’d woken up in his bed, even when she was reminding him that she didn’t, couldn’t. But now it turned out that she could, and did. It was just… once she told him, she couldn’t untell him.
So there was that, plus the fact that they still couldn’t find the Trio of Lameness. They must have realized she was gunning for them and had figured out somewhere other than their parents’ houses to hide out. Oh, and then there was the Council’s plan to get Faith out of the slammer, which while she didn’t want Faith getting knifed by the faceless freakos, didn’t strike her as the smartest idea.
Spike wasn’t even in when she got there. Typical. She didn’t always ask him where he went. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. Sometimes she found she didn’t really care. Buffy realized that for the most part she trusted him to behave himself. Which was probably what had allowed her heart to overwhelm her head finally.
She grabbed one of his ratty old books and thumbed through it on the bed. It would make him happy to find her there, and that’s what you were supposed to do for people you loved, right? Make them happy? Because she really sucked at that. Or else she made them too happy and complete badness ensued. Which was really the wrong thing to be thinking about in Spike’s bed.
So when he was halfway down the ladder, she tackled him such that they spun into the ancient dresser in the corner. Luckily it could take her weight because with Spike on his knees and her legs wrapped around his head, she really didn’t want to go anywhere. For a good long time. So she sucked at the whole making others happy thing, but at least maybe she’d found one that could make her happy this time.
----------
“Feel better then, pet?”
“Yeah-huh.”
“Want to tell me what had you so twisted up?”
“Nuh-uh.”
He brushed her hair off her face. “Slay-er,” he tried coaxingly.
“Slayer sleep now,” she grumped.
Spike huffed. Apparently she was determined to keep him out of whatever it was. Again. Seeing as how she was all naked and pliant and he’d come thrice, he decided he could wait to pester her about it. He settled in comfortably. “Right then. We’ll talk about it when you wake up.”
“Sounds good,” she mumbled. “Love you, Spike.”
He gaped for a moment while his brain struggled to catch up with his ears. It wasn’t possible that he’d heard her correctly. “Buffy? Do you just say--”
“Yes,” she huffed. “Said I love you, you dope. Now, lemme sleep or I’m taking it back.”
Right. She could sleep after that little revelation, but his entire being was awake and humming. Tempting as it was to plot an inventive way to rouse her and prompt her to repeat that little declaration, Spike decided to quit while he was ahead for once. He settled for a slow sweet kiss and left her to doze while he prowled the upstairs.
Buffy loved him. The Slayer loved him. He’d hoped for it, prayed for it – for all the good prayer did a demon, but he wasn’t quite prepared for it. Suddenly his crypt seemed shabby and stark. Oughtn’t he find a place he and his beloved could share? An apartment above ground with heavy drapes and a place for her to take a nice hot shower after patrol. A desk in the corner where she could do her studies. He could help with her French conjugations and she could persuade him to raise her grade.
All a pipe dream, of course. He and the slayer were never going to keep house together. Completely ludicrous. And his sad Victorian git bits could just shut up about it and enjoy having her in his bed despite how much more delicious the idea of their bed might be.
Buffy’s screams shook him out of his reverie. He grabbed a cool bottle of water from the alcove where he kept them and hopped down to the lower level. She was already awake and leaning forward, clutching her knees. She leaned against him and took the water with a grateful look.
“Bad one this time?”
She nodded. “Stabby squad again. I couldn’t tell who I was this time.”
The dreams or visions or whatever the hell had been visited on his girl had been going on since her birthday party. Increasingly vivid, and unfortunately at least one of the deaths she’d experienced in her sleep had come to pass.
Buffy passed him the empty bottle. “They didn’t get me this time at least.” She sagged into him. “Thanks for, you know, taking care of me.”
“Like taking care of you,” he replied earnestly. If she’d allow him to take care of her properly, he’d hide her away somewhere comfy and possibly European, steady streams of room service and strands of jewels draped over her breasts. No more coffee counters or going out in the night to skewer monsters. Which would make her someone altogether other than Buffy. So, bad plan. This was better. “I love you.”
It earned him a smile and a squeeze on his knee. “I know." But apparently she wasn't going to return the sentiment at his every prompting. He felt a burst of anger ripple through him. Ridiculous the way he lived for her every crumb of affection. Was he supposed to just be grateful she’d ever said it at all? Or maybe she was even pretending now that it had never been voiced?
"Don't get like that," she chided. So apparently his ire was showing. Her mobile rang before he could object. "It's Giles," she informed him, gone all serious, before flipping the phone open.
Whatever the Watcher was telling her, it was bad. Buffy closed her eyes and held her breath like that could keep her from absorbing her Watcher's words. His anger evaporated in the face of her distress. She trusted him enough to let him see how scared she was. Spike considered this and wondered what he had done to deserve this confidence of hers and whether he could possibly keep from fucking it all up in some fantastic way.
------
"Welcome to The Magic Box, may I -- oh, it's you."
Willow barely acknowledged Halfrek's greeting as she swept past her. She climbed up the ladder to the stack of locked shelves. She didn't know what she was going to find in the Watcher's Chronicles that she hadn't found the last dozen times, but she wasn't sure what else to do. Googling 'slayer origins' was only going to produce a bunch of heavy metal articles and Giles was intentionally not helping her research. Which spoke of much badness.
It was quiet in the shop so close to closing time. After the demon had locked up and was counting up the proceeds for the day, Willow raised her eyes to Halfrek. Halfrek jumped back, clearly spooked. Probably it shouldn't be so satisfying to be able to freak out a demon, but Willow couldn't help it.
"How's business?" she asked. Might as well be chatty. Not like the books were telling her anything she didn’t already know.
Hallie shrugged and petted the cash register. "Okay. I don't have Anyanka's gift for retail. Several customers have indicated that they are deferring their business until she returns tomorrow." She made a little humming noise. "Who knew little miss rah-rah proletariat would become such the happy little shop keep?"
Willow filed that little tidbit away. "Well, I guess you see a few philosophies come and go in a millennia or two."
"Oh my yes. I spent some time in Rome in the late 300s. Working for the Vestals, you see. Live burials! They weren't happy about that."
"Vestals? Vestal Virgins? You did, um, vengeance for the Vestal Virgins?"
"Oh yes. Well anyway that's what they called themselves at the time. Before that it was The Guardians or Watchers of Watchers, Hestia's priestesses… you get the idea."
"Watchers of Watchers?" Willow started making notes. Maybe this was something worth looking into. Why didn’t they ever think about asking demons for info like this?
Oh yeah, because most demons? Not real keen on helping the Slayer.
Halfrek’s story could be total crap too, but she just seemed to be bragging, not laying some sort of convoluted trap. If there was some other group that predated the Watcher's Council or even just observed them, then maybe Willow could find out something about the hows and whys of Slayer activation. Or it could be total coincidence. "Like Slayer-Watcher Watchers?"
Halfrek did her irritating humming thing again. "I'm not the Slayer expert. Perhaps you should ask William. He's the one with the Slayer obsession."
"Uh-huh," Willow agreed. "So, you knew Spike a long time ago?"
"Before he was Spike," Halfrek agreed. "Before he was dead. Such a fop! Sad."
Willow's ears perked up. "Really?"
"Oh yes, I was investigating these orphanages in London, posing as Cicely Addams, country cousin to the Underwoods, who were poor William's neighbors." A nasty look passed over her face, one that reminded Willow that the pleasant looking woman behind the counter was really a powerful creature. "Those orphanages. You really can't imagine."
Willow wanted to ask more about pre-vamp Spike, but her phone rang.
"Meeting, my house, first thing tomorrow." Buffy's voice was hard, cold. It was the Slayer talking to her. "Faith's been attacked."
------
There’s so little in canon about the Guardians (from their thirty seconds of screen time), so I decided it was something I could play with. This will start moving quickly from here on out. I will try to update in a timely fashion but the baby’s been sick and my in-laws are coming in for a visit, so no promises. But please review!
Entropy
Author’s Note: Big thanks to Kar and my reviewers. I’m actually managing to get some writing done while the in-laws are here. So we’ll just have to see how long you’re left in suspense after this chapter. Please keep the feedback coming!
In our seventeenth installment the Harrises return to Sunnydale, Willow and Tara chat, Joyce volunteers for a mission, and Spike takes a ride (or two).
Chapter Seventeen: Entropy
“Hello, this is The Magic Box. Anya Harris speaking. Yes, we can order that for you. Three to five days. Shall I call you when it comes in?”
Anya sashayed around the display cases, dusting where things had gotten a bit filmy in her absence and beaming at the patrons. Lovely patrons with their lovely money that would go into the lovely joint bank accounts of Alexander and Anya Harris.
Mexico was beautiful. She hadn't been since the 1950s and Xander had surprised her by wanting to hear all about it. And her other travels, too. She left out the parts about eviscerating and mauling and all her clever ways of twisting the knife, and he'd been satisfyingly impressed with all the places she had seen. And all her identities.
So you were Countess Von Something once upon a time, and now you're okay with being Mrs. Harris?
That he could ask it like that made her just want it more. And it was real, not some costume she was putting on until the job was done. It was real, they were real. Their being a pair made her real.
She knew this was what other women had felt, women whose men she had ravaged for their betrayals. But it was impossible to imagine Xander ever putting her through that. It was certainly possible to imagine Xander doing other things to her.
"Miss?"
Anya blinked at the line that had formed in front of the counter. I beg your pardon. I am newly wed and distracted by thoughts of sweaty conjugal activities. But she didn't say that. She was learning.
"Oh, it's ma'am now," she gently corrected.
------------
"What are you thinking about?"
Willow sat up a little and continued watching the sunlight play over Tara's pale hair and shoulders. Her skin was just slightly warmer in those spots where the light filtered through the blinds onto the bed.
"Willow?"
Willow shook her head. "This is gonna sound weird, but I was thinking about Buffy." Tara made a face. "Not like that. I mean, I was thinking how she never gets to do this."
"But she does. She told me she stays at the crypt all the time and that her mom doesn't like it."
Willow could just imagine that conversation. It was so great being back on campus out of her parents' house. She could only imagine what it was like for Buffy being all grown-up but still having to live at home for such a long time. A few weeks with the 'rents and she was desperate for a place of her own. Even her Eta Beta Pi pledging new roommate couldn't sour the experience.
"No, I just..." She stroked Tara's hair. "The sun shining on you. You look so beautiful." Tara flushed and turned away a little. "And, if we wanted, we could go have a picnic or go to the beach. Buffy doesn't get to do any of that."
Tara shrugged. "There's a lot of things Buffy will never get to do."
"What does that mean?"
Tara looked caught. "Just, you know, being the slayer. It takes away some of your options."
Willow sighed. "And here we are talking about taking more girls' options away. Is that fair?" Tara pulled her back down, and Willow gratefully nestled into close to her warm, soft girlfriend.
“But these guys that are after them? If they were, you know, activated, they’d have a better chance of surviving, right?”
“Yeah, maybe.” Willow blew a loose strand of hair out of her face. "Of course we have to figure out how to even do that, and so far tracking down a cult that worships hearth goddesses hasn't yielded much."
"Doesn't that seem off to you, though? I mean, if they're part of Slayer origins, wouldn't they be into Athena or Brigid or even Durga? You know, someone less housewife."
"Maybe." The sun and Tara's heat where making her sleepy. "Maybe it's a cover."
"A hiding in plain sight thing?"
Willow yawned. "Could be." She glanced at the clock and frowned. "Bleh. I've got to get to class. I'll see you at Buffy's later, right?"
"I wouldn't miss it," Tara teased. "A Faith debate. Should be fun."
"Oh yeah, rollicking good time," she agreed with a giggle.
"Willow." Tara looked so happy just in that moment. Willow wished she could freeze-frame it somehow. "This is good."
Yeah, Willow thought, it really is.
------------
"Gin." Spike laid his cards down triumphantly.
"You so cheated," Dawn accused with her best glare.
"Sorry Bit, but that's a legitimate rout. Scout's honor."
Dawn snorted. "Eating Boy Scouts does not make you a Boy Scout, you doof."
Joyce shook her head. Every time she thought she had adjusted to the idea, someone or something managed to remind her that her daughter had taken up with a reformed serial killer. And she wasn't entirely certain about the 'reformed' part.
"Deal you in?" Spike asked her.
Dawn caught her mother's eye. "I should probably go do my homework," she declared.
Joyce took her daughter's vacated seat at the kitchen island. They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the debate still going strong in the living room. "Are you alright?" she asked finally.
Spike gave her a rueful smile. "Yeah. Least ways she doesn't punctuate our arguments with a right hook these days." He shuffled the cards idly. "Just wish she'd listen to me on this one."
"Fair enough." Joyce happened to agree with Spike. Just because the trio of bothersome boys hadn't made a move lately didn't mean they were harmless. Sure, it was possible they'd decided to give up. It was also just as likely that the quiet was the calm before the storm.
Not saying this other isn't important. But don't forget about them, is all. Got a taste of killing and getting away with it. Gonna want more of that.
And for that deeply disturbing insight, thank you. But we've got a real problem right now.
"Not saying as this business with the Potentials isn't important, just don't want those prats sneaking up on her. And I'm no help because they're bloody human."
Joyce gave him a wan smile. "I'm sure she can handle it. This situation with Faith just has her rattled."
"Yeah. Gather there's a bit of history there."
It wasn't really her story to tell. She tipped her head back and listened to the on-going argument about who was best-suited to retrieve Faith from Los Angeles and what to do with her once they got her to Sunnydale. The option of leaving her in LA was being repeatedly put forward by Xander and repeatedly shot down by Buffy, who insisted they needed to keep an eye on her.
"Here we are talking about a multiple slayer situation," she mused aloud. "It's been hard enough on both of them with just the two. It wasn't designed that way."
"Time for a revamp then?"
She smirked at Spike, who smirked back. "You should really leave the bad puns to Buffy." She shook her head. "I think I have to play the Mom card."
Spike went out to have his smoke and she marched into the living room and cleared her throat. "The gallery needs a pick up made in LA next week anyway. I'll go get Faith and then she can stay here, where we can all keep an eye on her."
Buffy gaped at her. "Mom, you cannot be serious. The last time she was here--"
"I haven't forgotten any of that, Buffy. But since I am the only one in this room who is not openly hostile to Faith, I think that makes me the best choice."
Buffy seemed to hold a silent conference with Willow and Xander while Tara just looked exhausted. Her daughter sighed. "Okay, Mom. Okay. Just... be careful."
Joyce nodded and headed up the stairs. She hoped she knew what she was getting herself into.
-----
When Spike opened his eyes, Buffy was pacing around the room. With a defeated sigh, he pulled his jeans on and started toward to the door.
"Spike, where are you going?" Her eyes were huge and grey in the moonlight. "Don't go, okay?"
"Not doing you any good here though. You haven't even noticed that I am here."
Buffy gave him an incredulous look. "Are you kidding me? You totally had my attention, in case you and I weren't on the same planet." She gestured to the rumpled bed. "I'm sorry I'm not all... snuggly tonight. I've got a lot on my mind."
He relented immediately. He'd meant to have some spine about it, be offended that she wasn't confiding in him. But a Buffy apology was such a rare beast. "Worried about your mum with Faith?"
"Yeah. Just kinda worried about Faith in general." When he was near enough, she hooked her fingers in his belt loops and drew him in close. "You'll probably like her," she muttered glumly.
"Met her once already," he reminded her. "When she was wearing your skin." He ran his hand under the band of her cotton sleep shorts.
"You never told me much about that," she said quietly.
He shrugged. "Not much to tell. Seemed off, but you... or she'd been drinking quite a bit, and then later I heard the Scoobs talking about the switch." The memory was vivid, but there was no need to tell her that.
Buffy went all inscrutable on him, but he sensed that guessing correct answer to her next question was imperative. "Was she convincing as me?"
Spike shrugged. "Seemed off, like I said. Only talked to her a few minutes." He seemed to have passed the test because one warm hand coasted up his bare chest.
"You know, she's going to go after you." Buffy stared at him, hard. "Because you're mine."
He wondered if she had any idea what she did to him. One hand yanking him tight against her by his pants, her other hand firm on his arm, pinning him to the wall behind him. Eyes boring into him and her declaration almost harsh. "You're mine, Spike."
He tried to control his trembling as he answered. "Too bad for her then," he whispered. "Seeing as how I'm not interested and all."
The laugh that bubbled up out of her was just on the edge of hysterical. He pulled himself together and turned them so that she was the one pressed into the wall. She helped him push her shorts off and then her legs tightened around his hips as he lifted her.
"This isn't even an effort for you, is it?" she asked, that hungry 'you are a sex god' look on her face. Never ceased to whet his own appetite that she should be impressed by him.
"Not really, pet," he answered calmly before sliding up and in. The very idea that any woman could replace her, that he would ever give this up. Her heat, her fingers in his hair, the immensely gratifying look on her face, her little teeth biting at her lip to keep from screaming aloud and scandalizing little sis. Nothing and no one was worth giving this up, certainly not some tarty second-tier slayer.
"And are you mine as well, Buffy?" he couldn't stop himself from asking.
Her nails dug into his scalp. "Yes!" She was panting, working up to her second high. "Yours, Spike." He felt her seizing up on him but was determined to keep it going, see how long he could last in her. Her lips grazed his ear. “Show me your other face,” she whispered.
He drew back, surprised at how very much he did not want to do what she asked. But he was ever at her command, so he brought up his game face and tried to keep his rhythm as he waited for her reaction. Would it repulse her? Or get her hotter?
She tilted her head and studied him, her little panting breaths the only sound she made. Finally she reached up with one hand to smooth over his brow ridges and leaned up to carefully kiss his dangerous mouth, almost chastely. Then she shook her head ever so slightly, and he shook his as well to bring back his human features.
“What was that about?” he asked when they finished.
Buffy shrugged and stroked his cheek. “I don’t know. I just wanted to see.”
“See what?”
“You, I guess.” She huffed a laugh. “That sounds so stupid. I just mean… I don’t know. I love you, and I thought I should see.”
Spike didn’t even try to pretend he understood. Instead he kissed her and tried very hard not to think about what might have happened if he’d bitten her tongue. When he could feel his legs again, he kissed her drowsy eyes closed and left her snug in her bed. It was late but not near sunrise. If he was lucky he might be able to get something on the magician of the Trio from a Warlock he knew on the outskirts of town.
When the car came toward him at full speed down the wrong side of the two-lane highway, he tried to swerve. But so did they. As he fell into the dark he thought to himself that at least he'd gone out on a high note.
--------------
I have a draft of the next chapter going already. So depending on the availability of my computer with guests around, I’ll try not to keep you waiting too awful long to find out what happened to Spike.
In our seventeenth installment the Harrises return to Sunnydale, Willow and Tara chat, Joyce volunteers for a mission, and Spike takes a ride (or two).
Chapter Seventeen: Entropy
“Hello, this is The Magic Box. Anya Harris speaking. Yes, we can order that for you. Three to five days. Shall I call you when it comes in?”
Anya sashayed around the display cases, dusting where things had gotten a bit filmy in her absence and beaming at the patrons. Lovely patrons with their lovely money that would go into the lovely joint bank accounts of Alexander and Anya Harris.
Mexico was beautiful. She hadn't been since the 1950s and Xander had surprised her by wanting to hear all about it. And her other travels, too. She left out the parts about eviscerating and mauling and all her clever ways of twisting the knife, and he'd been satisfyingly impressed with all the places she had seen. And all her identities.
So you were Countess Von Something once upon a time, and now you're okay with being Mrs. Harris?
That he could ask it like that made her just want it more. And it was real, not some costume she was putting on until the job was done. It was real, they were real. Their being a pair made her real.
She knew this was what other women had felt, women whose men she had ravaged for their betrayals. But it was impossible to imagine Xander ever putting her through that. It was certainly possible to imagine Xander doing other things to her.
"Miss?"
Anya blinked at the line that had formed in front of the counter. I beg your pardon. I am newly wed and distracted by thoughts of sweaty conjugal activities. But she didn't say that. She was learning.
"Oh, it's ma'am now," she gently corrected.
------------
"What are you thinking about?"
Willow sat up a little and continued watching the sunlight play over Tara's pale hair and shoulders. Her skin was just slightly warmer in those spots where the light filtered through the blinds onto the bed.
"Willow?"
Willow shook her head. "This is gonna sound weird, but I was thinking about Buffy." Tara made a face. "Not like that. I mean, I was thinking how she never gets to do this."
"But she does. She told me she stays at the crypt all the time and that her mom doesn't like it."
Willow could just imagine that conversation. It was so great being back on campus out of her parents' house. She could only imagine what it was like for Buffy being all grown-up but still having to live at home for such a long time. A few weeks with the 'rents and she was desperate for a place of her own. Even her Eta Beta Pi pledging new roommate couldn't sour the experience.
"No, I just..." She stroked Tara's hair. "The sun shining on you. You look so beautiful." Tara flushed and turned away a little. "And, if we wanted, we could go have a picnic or go to the beach. Buffy doesn't get to do any of that."
Tara shrugged. "There's a lot of things Buffy will never get to do."
"What does that mean?"
Tara looked caught. "Just, you know, being the slayer. It takes away some of your options."
Willow sighed. "And here we are talking about taking more girls' options away. Is that fair?" Tara pulled her back down, and Willow gratefully nestled into close to her warm, soft girlfriend.
“But these guys that are after them? If they were, you know, activated, they’d have a better chance of surviving, right?”
“Yeah, maybe.” Willow blew a loose strand of hair out of her face. "Of course we have to figure out how to even do that, and so far tracking down a cult that worships hearth goddesses hasn't yielded much."
"Doesn't that seem off to you, though? I mean, if they're part of Slayer origins, wouldn't they be into Athena or Brigid or even Durga? You know, someone less housewife."
"Maybe." The sun and Tara's heat where making her sleepy. "Maybe it's a cover."
"A hiding in plain sight thing?"
Willow yawned. "Could be." She glanced at the clock and frowned. "Bleh. I've got to get to class. I'll see you at Buffy's later, right?"
"I wouldn't miss it," Tara teased. "A Faith debate. Should be fun."
"Oh yeah, rollicking good time," she agreed with a giggle.
"Willow." Tara looked so happy just in that moment. Willow wished she could freeze-frame it somehow. "This is good."
Yeah, Willow thought, it really is.
------------
"Gin." Spike laid his cards down triumphantly.
"You so cheated," Dawn accused with her best glare.
"Sorry Bit, but that's a legitimate rout. Scout's honor."
Dawn snorted. "Eating Boy Scouts does not make you a Boy Scout, you doof."
Joyce shook her head. Every time she thought she had adjusted to the idea, someone or something managed to remind her that her daughter had taken up with a reformed serial killer. And she wasn't entirely certain about the 'reformed' part.
"Deal you in?" Spike asked her.
Dawn caught her mother's eye. "I should probably go do my homework," she declared.
Joyce took her daughter's vacated seat at the kitchen island. They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the debate still going strong in the living room. "Are you alright?" she asked finally.
Spike gave her a rueful smile. "Yeah. Least ways she doesn't punctuate our arguments with a right hook these days." He shuffled the cards idly. "Just wish she'd listen to me on this one."
"Fair enough." Joyce happened to agree with Spike. Just because the trio of bothersome boys hadn't made a move lately didn't mean they were harmless. Sure, it was possible they'd decided to give up. It was also just as likely that the quiet was the calm before the storm.
Not saying this other isn't important. But don't forget about them, is all. Got a taste of killing and getting away with it. Gonna want more of that.
And for that deeply disturbing insight, thank you. But we've got a real problem right now.
"Not saying as this business with the Potentials isn't important, just don't want those prats sneaking up on her. And I'm no help because they're bloody human."
Joyce gave him a wan smile. "I'm sure she can handle it. This situation with Faith just has her rattled."
"Yeah. Gather there's a bit of history there."
It wasn't really her story to tell. She tipped her head back and listened to the on-going argument about who was best-suited to retrieve Faith from Los Angeles and what to do with her once they got her to Sunnydale. The option of leaving her in LA was being repeatedly put forward by Xander and repeatedly shot down by Buffy, who insisted they needed to keep an eye on her.
"Here we are talking about a multiple slayer situation," she mused aloud. "It's been hard enough on both of them with just the two. It wasn't designed that way."
"Time for a revamp then?"
She smirked at Spike, who smirked back. "You should really leave the bad puns to Buffy." She shook her head. "I think I have to play the Mom card."
Spike went out to have his smoke and she marched into the living room and cleared her throat. "The gallery needs a pick up made in LA next week anyway. I'll go get Faith and then she can stay here, where we can all keep an eye on her."
Buffy gaped at her. "Mom, you cannot be serious. The last time she was here--"
"I haven't forgotten any of that, Buffy. But since I am the only one in this room who is not openly hostile to Faith, I think that makes me the best choice."
Buffy seemed to hold a silent conference with Willow and Xander while Tara just looked exhausted. Her daughter sighed. "Okay, Mom. Okay. Just... be careful."
Joyce nodded and headed up the stairs. She hoped she knew what she was getting herself into.
-----
When Spike opened his eyes, Buffy was pacing around the room. With a defeated sigh, he pulled his jeans on and started toward to the door.
"Spike, where are you going?" Her eyes were huge and grey in the moonlight. "Don't go, okay?"
"Not doing you any good here though. You haven't even noticed that I am here."
Buffy gave him an incredulous look. "Are you kidding me? You totally had my attention, in case you and I weren't on the same planet." She gestured to the rumpled bed. "I'm sorry I'm not all... snuggly tonight. I've got a lot on my mind."
He relented immediately. He'd meant to have some spine about it, be offended that she wasn't confiding in him. But a Buffy apology was such a rare beast. "Worried about your mum with Faith?"
"Yeah. Just kinda worried about Faith in general." When he was near enough, she hooked her fingers in his belt loops and drew him in close. "You'll probably like her," she muttered glumly.
"Met her once already," he reminded her. "When she was wearing your skin." He ran his hand under the band of her cotton sleep shorts.
"You never told me much about that," she said quietly.
He shrugged. "Not much to tell. Seemed off, but you... or she'd been drinking quite a bit, and then later I heard the Scoobs talking about the switch." The memory was vivid, but there was no need to tell her that.
Buffy went all inscrutable on him, but he sensed that guessing correct answer to her next question was imperative. "Was she convincing as me?"
Spike shrugged. "Seemed off, like I said. Only talked to her a few minutes." He seemed to have passed the test because one warm hand coasted up his bare chest.
"You know, she's going to go after you." Buffy stared at him, hard. "Because you're mine."
He wondered if she had any idea what she did to him. One hand yanking him tight against her by his pants, her other hand firm on his arm, pinning him to the wall behind him. Eyes boring into him and her declaration almost harsh. "You're mine, Spike."
He tried to control his trembling as he answered. "Too bad for her then," he whispered. "Seeing as how I'm not interested and all."
The laugh that bubbled up out of her was just on the edge of hysterical. He pulled himself together and turned them so that she was the one pressed into the wall. She helped him push her shorts off and then her legs tightened around his hips as he lifted her.
"This isn't even an effort for you, is it?" she asked, that hungry 'you are a sex god' look on her face. Never ceased to whet his own appetite that she should be impressed by him.
"Not really, pet," he answered calmly before sliding up and in. The very idea that any woman could replace her, that he would ever give this up. Her heat, her fingers in his hair, the immensely gratifying look on her face, her little teeth biting at her lip to keep from screaming aloud and scandalizing little sis. Nothing and no one was worth giving this up, certainly not some tarty second-tier slayer.
"And are you mine as well, Buffy?" he couldn't stop himself from asking.
Her nails dug into his scalp. "Yes!" She was panting, working up to her second high. "Yours, Spike." He felt her seizing up on him but was determined to keep it going, see how long he could last in her. Her lips grazed his ear. “Show me your other face,” she whispered.
He drew back, surprised at how very much he did not want to do what she asked. But he was ever at her command, so he brought up his game face and tried to keep his rhythm as he waited for her reaction. Would it repulse her? Or get her hotter?
She tilted her head and studied him, her little panting breaths the only sound she made. Finally she reached up with one hand to smooth over his brow ridges and leaned up to carefully kiss his dangerous mouth, almost chastely. Then she shook her head ever so slightly, and he shook his as well to bring back his human features.
“What was that about?” he asked when they finished.
Buffy shrugged and stroked his cheek. “I don’t know. I just wanted to see.”
“See what?”
“You, I guess.” She huffed a laugh. “That sounds so stupid. I just mean… I don’t know. I love you, and I thought I should see.”
Spike didn’t even try to pretend he understood. Instead he kissed her and tried very hard not to think about what might have happened if he’d bitten her tongue. When he could feel his legs again, he kissed her drowsy eyes closed and left her snug in her bed. It was late but not near sunrise. If he was lucky he might be able to get something on the magician of the Trio from a Warlock he knew on the outskirts of town.
When the car came toward him at full speed down the wrong side of the two-lane highway, he tried to swerve. But so did they. As he fell into the dark he thought to himself that at least he'd gone out on a high note.
--------------
I have a draft of the next chapter going already. So depending on the availability of my computer with guests around, I’ll try not to keep you waiting too awful long to find out what happened to Spike.
Seeing Red
Author’s Notes: Thanks to Kar and my reviewers. I can hardly believe I’m nearing the end of this story. You guys have made this really worthwhile.
In our eighteenth installment there is a character death.
Chapter Eighteen: Seeing Red
Buffy paced around the empty crypt wishing she had some idea what else to do. Mom had collected Faith, but they were staying in LA for a few days so Joyce could pick up her pre-Columbian pottery and Faith could get in some quality time with Angel and Wesley, which was so a situation Buffy didn't even want to think about.
Then, as if she didn't have enough stress, Willow had intercepted some email traffic that suggested that Warren and his moronic sidekicks were planning to rob a freaking bank. She was sure there was going to be some ridiculous shrink ray involved or something, so they couldn't just turn the tip over to the police.
At least they had a location. The nerds were apparently hiding out in some abandoned vineyard outside of town. She wanted to check it out before the bank caper was supposed to go down, but she wanted her second there in case they got creative with the demon-summoning or something.
Only he was nowhere to be found and she was freaking out. No one had seen him, or at least, no one would admit having seen him. No signs he'd been back to the crypt. What if he'd been dusted? She'd never even know. The thought made it hard to breathe. He'd ridden off somewhere two nights ago, and that was the last she'd seen of him.
She was about to leave, because it was the middle of the afternoon so he wasn't likely to come back from wherever he'd been -- if he was even anywhere -- when there was a splashing sound from the lower level. He was limping in from the sewer tunnel. Buffy wasn't sure whether she wanted to hug him or slug him. Now that she knew he was okay, she was furious at him for making her worry.
Except that maybe he wasn't all that okay. "Spike, what the hell happened to you? Where have you been?"
He was covered in bruises and there was dried blood all over his clothes. She guided him to the bed, but he remained silent. Buffy stripped off his coat, noting the tears in the leather. His back was one giant bruise and his scalp was purple under his hair.
Her breath hitched. "Spike?"
"It's my fault," he husked blankly.
She tipped his chin up, but he wouldn't look in her eyes. "What's your fault, Spike?"
"They're dead."
She furrowed his brow. Was he having some sort of flashback? She'd never heard him talk like this. "Who's dead, Spike?"
"Children. On the road. I did that. Three of them. My fault."
Buffy tried to figure out what the hell he was talking about and finally remembered something on the news. "On the highway? Those kids? The guy's blood alcohol was like four times the legal limit. You were there?" She struggled to put it together. The car had ended up wrapped around a tree. No sign of another vehicle. "The police thought they were avoiding something in the road."
"Yeah," he snorted. "Me."
"Oh, Spike." She stroked his cheek carefully. Very little of him was not cut or bruised. "That's not your fault."
"Wouldn't have run off the road if I hadn't been there. So fucking young. Girl in the back looked just like Dawn."
"You stay here," she insisted. "Let me get you something to eat."
"My fault," he repeated. He still wasn't looking at her, wasn't responding to her touch. "What have you done to me?"
Well, that was a whole lot of huh? "Spike, what--"
"All torn up and blood everywhere. Shoulda been hungry. Not come over sick."
Buffy struggled to absorb this nauseating confession. "You're upset because dead teenagers didn't make you think 'snack time'?"
"Vampire here!" he reminded her forcefully. And he was finally looking at her, and it was a little scary. Because he was in full-on fang face and roaring at her. But then he was just Spike again and collapsing on her shoulder. She held him as tight as she could without making him even more purple. "Least, I used to be. Don't know what I am now. Think you made me something else. Something I don't know how to be."
She was afraid her tears would sting in his cuts, but she couldn't stop them. Stupid crazy vampire, all torn up because dead people weren't supposed to upset him. "We'll figure it out, okay," she promised quietly. She would help her boyfriend learn how to deal with not reacting with hunger when people got killed in grisly ways. Her life was so beyond twisted.
"Know what I have to do," he whispered. "Don't want to go from you."
She felt a wave of panic. "Then don't. Don't go. I'd really rather you didn't. Okay?"
Spike slumped against her. "Why do I have to love you so much?"
Eerily this was a question she used to ask herself about Angel all the time. "I don't know. I'm just really glad, Spike." And I love you too. Why was it so hard to say it?
She carefully laid him back on the mattress and tucked him in. "Relax for a minute, okay."
Buffy hurried up to above-ground level where his battered old fridge held a few jars of pig's blood. Hoping it was fresh enough, she put a mugfull on the hot plate while she scoured the kitchen for that weird stuff he liked to crumble into his blood.
"Drink this," she ordered him when it was ready. "And then maybe you can tell me where you've been all this time."
He gulped his food. Buffy wasn't quite sure when she'd gotten over being grossed out by his feedings habits. It also occurred to her that he wouldn't look like he'd gone a few rounds with Glory again if he had indeed drunk from the dead kids. "You went off the road, didn't you? Lost control of your motorcycle?" She struggled against picturing it. From the damage to his clothes it looked like maybe he'd gotten caught and dragged.
Spike wasn't real forthcoming with the details. "Was on my way somewhere when it happened. Just had time to get there before dawn when I came to. Bike's in better shape than me." Every word seemed to be an effort for him. "Had some questions needed answering before I could come back." He closed his eyes. "Came out of fucking nowhere."
"Get some rest," she instructed. She glanced at her watch and winced. "I'm so sorry, but I have to go. You were right about the geek trio. They're up to something so I have to take care of it. But I promise we'll talk later." She bit her lip. "I love you." It really wasn't that hard to say out loud after all.
"Yeah," he murmured. "Go on and save the world, Buffy."
"You'll be here when I get back?"
But he was still, barely breathing against the pillow. She couldn't imagine he had the strength to wander off.
-----
Dawn dried the dish Tara handed her and listened to the freaky silence of the rest of the house. Mom was gone and Buffy had spent the past coupla days either planning daring heroics or wigging about her boyfriend.
"Thanks for coming over and making me dinner tonight," Dawn said. "I know Buffy appreciates you taking care of her kid sis."
"I'd like to think I'm your friend too, Dawnie."
Dawn beamed at the woman. "Thanks. I mean, not that I'm not totally thrilled that Buffy's back and all, but some people don't feel that way so much now that she's around again."
Tara ducked her head a little and smiled. "They're in love. When it happens you'll see how the universe seems to temporarily shrink down to just the two of you for a little while."
Dawn sighed and tried to imagine a universe of just her and Jeremy Sutter. It seemed like it would get really boring. How many burped alphabets could a girl really listen to anyway?
"They seem pretty happy, don't they?" Dawn asked. "I mean, as happy as those two ever get."
Tara nodded and wiped the sink down. "Kind of glowy."
"Their auras?" Dawn asked.
The witch shook her head. "Vampires don't have auras."
"So, marathon sex glow?"
"Dawnie!" Dawn shrugged and put on her best observe how grown up and nonchalant I am face. "Okay. Maybe that is it," Tara relented. "Go take out the trash, smarty girl."
Dawn hefted the back and stepped out on the back porch. She was coming back up the steps when she heard a twig snap.
"Bit."
Dawn nearly jumped out of her skin. "Geez Spike! Stealthy enough?"
"Sis isn't home?"
"No, but I'm fine, thanks. She's out stopping a robbery. She'll probably be home soon if you want to have a seat." She scanned him carefully. "You look like crap. What happened to you?"
"I have to go, so can you give her a message for me?"
Dawn frowned. "Go where? Can't you just tell her later?"
"No, going off a ways. Don't know when I'll be back."
She felt a sick heat rising in her stomach. "Great. You're bailing now too."
"No, Bit." His voice was firm. "Gonna be back. That's what I need you to tell her. That I'll be back, soon as I can. If I can."
"If you can!" Dawn gaped at him. "Well that's just great, Spike. What the hell does that mean?"
"Can't tell you now. Something I've got to do, Niblet."
"Where are you even going?" Dawn demanded. "Why are you even going?"
"Have to fix it," he said, and then he was all swooshing black coat and vanishing into the night.
Dawn sat on the steps and tried to find him in the dark, but he was gone, almost like he'd never been there at all. Spike was gone, and now she had to tell Buffy.
----
Another beautiful day in Sunnydale. And thanks to the Local 408, Xander was free to enjoy the sunny afternoon off-site. The Magic Box was humming, so he'd decided to let Anya enjoy her prosperous morning and get some exercise. His walk brought him to Revello Drive where Buffy was hacking at something in the garden, her shoulder slumped, bags under her eyes.
“Hey.”
She looked up, squinting at him. “What’s up?”
He shrugged. “Out for a stroll. Just thought I’d stop by.”
She stretched and stood. In the sun it was impossible to miss how exhausted she was. "Looks like we've got an impromptu Scooby meeting. Willow's inside talking to Giles. The Council thinks they might have a lead on a spell to make a little Slayer explosion."
"Again?" If they were wrong, it would be the fourth false lead. "What else is new?"
"I thwarted a bank robbery last night!" she announced with false cheer.
He grinned at her. "I heard. Anya's very grateful, by the way. Our savings account is with that bank."
She smiled back, and because it looked like such an effort for her, he grabbed her up in a big hug. At first she was stiff, but then she squeezed him back.
"Dawn said he promised to come back, Buff." She gave a brusque laugh so he held her tighter and stroked her back.
"I cannot believe you, of all people, are defending him."
"Oh, I'm not. He's just way too obsessed to stay away from you. Why would anyone want to stay away from you?"
He felt her stiffen in his arms. "A few people have found reasons."
"Well, those guys are idiots." Not that Spike wasn't an idiot too, just a different species of idiot. Plus he just couldn't imagine Stalker Boy staying away from Buffy permanently. Even though that didn't strike Xander as such a tragically bad idea. But even if Buffy weren't in love with the guy, Xander had to admit the vampire was good in a fight.
Buffy pulled back to look at him. "I'm glad you're here, Xander."
“I’m not going anywhere, Buffy. I love you.”
“I love you too, you know that?”
Yeah, he knew that. He started to tell her so when I sharp noise shattered the peaceful afternoon.
“You think you can just do that to me? That I’d let you get away with it? Think again, bitch!”
It was all happening so fast. Willow’s scream from inside the kitchen and he instinctively lunged in that direction, drawn to his best friend’s distress. But there was still Warren, waving the gun and pointing it at Buffy. Another bullet fired and he heard his own shout as it caught Buffy in the shoulder and spun her around.
Warren took aim again. Xander had a fleeting vision of Anya, her face and hair aglow in the candlelight as she came down the aisle, radiating happiness as she smiled at him. Then he was moving, lunging back the other way, his eyes meeting Buffy’s, and then—
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Already working on the next part, as much as I can with my in-laws around. This was a hard thing to do in many ways, but it’s what I had planned from the beginning. Please review!
In our eighteenth installment there is a character death.
Chapter Eighteen: Seeing Red
Buffy paced around the empty crypt wishing she had some idea what else to do. Mom had collected Faith, but they were staying in LA for a few days so Joyce could pick up her pre-Columbian pottery and Faith could get in some quality time with Angel and Wesley, which was so a situation Buffy didn't even want to think about.
Then, as if she didn't have enough stress, Willow had intercepted some email traffic that suggested that Warren and his moronic sidekicks were planning to rob a freaking bank. She was sure there was going to be some ridiculous shrink ray involved or something, so they couldn't just turn the tip over to the police.
At least they had a location. The nerds were apparently hiding out in some abandoned vineyard outside of town. She wanted to check it out before the bank caper was supposed to go down, but she wanted her second there in case they got creative with the demon-summoning or something.
Only he was nowhere to be found and she was freaking out. No one had seen him, or at least, no one would admit having seen him. No signs he'd been back to the crypt. What if he'd been dusted? She'd never even know. The thought made it hard to breathe. He'd ridden off somewhere two nights ago, and that was the last she'd seen of him.
She was about to leave, because it was the middle of the afternoon so he wasn't likely to come back from wherever he'd been -- if he was even anywhere -- when there was a splashing sound from the lower level. He was limping in from the sewer tunnel. Buffy wasn't sure whether she wanted to hug him or slug him. Now that she knew he was okay, she was furious at him for making her worry.
Except that maybe he wasn't all that okay. "Spike, what the hell happened to you? Where have you been?"
He was covered in bruises and there was dried blood all over his clothes. She guided him to the bed, but he remained silent. Buffy stripped off his coat, noting the tears in the leather. His back was one giant bruise and his scalp was purple under his hair.
Her breath hitched. "Spike?"
"It's my fault," he husked blankly.
She tipped his chin up, but he wouldn't look in her eyes. "What's your fault, Spike?"
"They're dead."
She furrowed his brow. Was he having some sort of flashback? She'd never heard him talk like this. "Who's dead, Spike?"
"Children. On the road. I did that. Three of them. My fault."
Buffy tried to figure out what the hell he was talking about and finally remembered something on the news. "On the highway? Those kids? The guy's blood alcohol was like four times the legal limit. You were there?" She struggled to put it together. The car had ended up wrapped around a tree. No sign of another vehicle. "The police thought they were avoiding something in the road."
"Yeah," he snorted. "Me."
"Oh, Spike." She stroked his cheek carefully. Very little of him was not cut or bruised. "That's not your fault."
"Wouldn't have run off the road if I hadn't been there. So fucking young. Girl in the back looked just like Dawn."
"You stay here," she insisted. "Let me get you something to eat."
"My fault," he repeated. He still wasn't looking at her, wasn't responding to her touch. "What have you done to me?"
Well, that was a whole lot of huh? "Spike, what--"
"All torn up and blood everywhere. Shoulda been hungry. Not come over sick."
Buffy struggled to absorb this nauseating confession. "You're upset because dead teenagers didn't make you think 'snack time'?"
"Vampire here!" he reminded her forcefully. And he was finally looking at her, and it was a little scary. Because he was in full-on fang face and roaring at her. But then he was just Spike again and collapsing on her shoulder. She held him as tight as she could without making him even more purple. "Least, I used to be. Don't know what I am now. Think you made me something else. Something I don't know how to be."
She was afraid her tears would sting in his cuts, but she couldn't stop them. Stupid crazy vampire, all torn up because dead people weren't supposed to upset him. "We'll figure it out, okay," she promised quietly. She would help her boyfriend learn how to deal with not reacting with hunger when people got killed in grisly ways. Her life was so beyond twisted.
"Know what I have to do," he whispered. "Don't want to go from you."
She felt a wave of panic. "Then don't. Don't go. I'd really rather you didn't. Okay?"
Spike slumped against her. "Why do I have to love you so much?"
Eerily this was a question she used to ask herself about Angel all the time. "I don't know. I'm just really glad, Spike." And I love you too. Why was it so hard to say it?
She carefully laid him back on the mattress and tucked him in. "Relax for a minute, okay."
Buffy hurried up to above-ground level where his battered old fridge held a few jars of pig's blood. Hoping it was fresh enough, she put a mugfull on the hot plate while she scoured the kitchen for that weird stuff he liked to crumble into his blood.
"Drink this," she ordered him when it was ready. "And then maybe you can tell me where you've been all this time."
He gulped his food. Buffy wasn't quite sure when she'd gotten over being grossed out by his feedings habits. It also occurred to her that he wouldn't look like he'd gone a few rounds with Glory again if he had indeed drunk from the dead kids. "You went off the road, didn't you? Lost control of your motorcycle?" She struggled against picturing it. From the damage to his clothes it looked like maybe he'd gotten caught and dragged.
Spike wasn't real forthcoming with the details. "Was on my way somewhere when it happened. Just had time to get there before dawn when I came to. Bike's in better shape than me." Every word seemed to be an effort for him. "Had some questions needed answering before I could come back." He closed his eyes. "Came out of fucking nowhere."
"Get some rest," she instructed. She glanced at her watch and winced. "I'm so sorry, but I have to go. You were right about the geek trio. They're up to something so I have to take care of it. But I promise we'll talk later." She bit her lip. "I love you." It really wasn't that hard to say out loud after all.
"Yeah," he murmured. "Go on and save the world, Buffy."
"You'll be here when I get back?"
But he was still, barely breathing against the pillow. She couldn't imagine he had the strength to wander off.
-----
Dawn dried the dish Tara handed her and listened to the freaky silence of the rest of the house. Mom was gone and Buffy had spent the past coupla days either planning daring heroics or wigging about her boyfriend.
"Thanks for coming over and making me dinner tonight," Dawn said. "I know Buffy appreciates you taking care of her kid sis."
"I'd like to think I'm your friend too, Dawnie."
Dawn beamed at the woman. "Thanks. I mean, not that I'm not totally thrilled that Buffy's back and all, but some people don't feel that way so much now that she's around again."
Tara ducked her head a little and smiled. "They're in love. When it happens you'll see how the universe seems to temporarily shrink down to just the two of you for a little while."
Dawn sighed and tried to imagine a universe of just her and Jeremy Sutter. It seemed like it would get really boring. How many burped alphabets could a girl really listen to anyway?
"They seem pretty happy, don't they?" Dawn asked. "I mean, as happy as those two ever get."
Tara nodded and wiped the sink down. "Kind of glowy."
"Their auras?" Dawn asked.
The witch shook her head. "Vampires don't have auras."
"So, marathon sex glow?"
"Dawnie!" Dawn shrugged and put on her best observe how grown up and nonchalant I am face. "Okay. Maybe that is it," Tara relented. "Go take out the trash, smarty girl."
Dawn hefted the back and stepped out on the back porch. She was coming back up the steps when she heard a twig snap.
"Bit."
Dawn nearly jumped out of her skin. "Geez Spike! Stealthy enough?"
"Sis isn't home?"
"No, but I'm fine, thanks. She's out stopping a robbery. She'll probably be home soon if you want to have a seat." She scanned him carefully. "You look like crap. What happened to you?"
"I have to go, so can you give her a message for me?"
Dawn frowned. "Go where? Can't you just tell her later?"
"No, going off a ways. Don't know when I'll be back."
She felt a sick heat rising in her stomach. "Great. You're bailing now too."
"No, Bit." His voice was firm. "Gonna be back. That's what I need you to tell her. That I'll be back, soon as I can. If I can."
"If you can!" Dawn gaped at him. "Well that's just great, Spike. What the hell does that mean?"
"Can't tell you now. Something I've got to do, Niblet."
"Where are you even going?" Dawn demanded. "Why are you even going?"
"Have to fix it," he said, and then he was all swooshing black coat and vanishing into the night.
Dawn sat on the steps and tried to find him in the dark, but he was gone, almost like he'd never been there at all. Spike was gone, and now she had to tell Buffy.
----
Another beautiful day in Sunnydale. And thanks to the Local 408, Xander was free to enjoy the sunny afternoon off-site. The Magic Box was humming, so he'd decided to let Anya enjoy her prosperous morning and get some exercise. His walk brought him to Revello Drive where Buffy was hacking at something in the garden, her shoulder slumped, bags under her eyes.
“Hey.”
She looked up, squinting at him. “What’s up?”
He shrugged. “Out for a stroll. Just thought I’d stop by.”
She stretched and stood. In the sun it was impossible to miss how exhausted she was. "Looks like we've got an impromptu Scooby meeting. Willow's inside talking to Giles. The Council thinks they might have a lead on a spell to make a little Slayer explosion."
"Again?" If they were wrong, it would be the fourth false lead. "What else is new?"
"I thwarted a bank robbery last night!" she announced with false cheer.
He grinned at her. "I heard. Anya's very grateful, by the way. Our savings account is with that bank."
She smiled back, and because it looked like such an effort for her, he grabbed her up in a big hug. At first she was stiff, but then she squeezed him back.
"Dawn said he promised to come back, Buff." She gave a brusque laugh so he held her tighter and stroked her back.
"I cannot believe you, of all people, are defending him."
"Oh, I'm not. He's just way too obsessed to stay away from you. Why would anyone want to stay away from you?"
He felt her stiffen in his arms. "A few people have found reasons."
"Well, those guys are idiots." Not that Spike wasn't an idiot too, just a different species of idiot. Plus he just couldn't imagine Stalker Boy staying away from Buffy permanently. Even though that didn't strike Xander as such a tragically bad idea. But even if Buffy weren't in love with the guy, Xander had to admit the vampire was good in a fight.
Buffy pulled back to look at him. "I'm glad you're here, Xander."
“I’m not going anywhere, Buffy. I love you.”
“I love you too, you know that?”
Yeah, he knew that. He started to tell her so when I sharp noise shattered the peaceful afternoon.
“You think you can just do that to me? That I’d let you get away with it? Think again, bitch!”
It was all happening so fast. Willow’s scream from inside the kitchen and he instinctively lunged in that direction, drawn to his best friend’s distress. But there was still Warren, waving the gun and pointing it at Buffy. Another bullet fired and he heard his own shout as it caught Buffy in the shoulder and spun her around.
Warren took aim again. Xander had a fleeting vision of Anya, her face and hair aglow in the candlelight as she came down the aisle, radiating happiness as she smiled at him. Then he was moving, lunging back the other way, his eyes meeting Buffy’s, and then—
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Already working on the next part, as much as I can with my in-laws around. This was a hard thing to do in many ways, but it’s what I had planned from the beginning. Please review!
Villains
Author’s Notes: Thanks to Kar for being so quick with edits given my sudden burst of speed as the story nears it’s end. And for the spiffy new banner. Only two installments to go folks. Thanks to all of you who are reading and especially those who are reviewing. The reviews on the last chapter helped me to know some things I needed to clear up in this chapter (where Tara is, for example). So please keep that feedback coming.
In our nineteenth installment Willow reacts to Xander’s murder.
Chapter Nineteen: Villains
There was a high animal keening and Buffy eventually realized it was coming from her. The body was still in her arms and she couldn't let go, couldn't stop looking into the dead eyes of what had once been Xander. Blood soaked her body from Xander's chest, his mouth, and her own wounded shoulder.
Willow, she realized after a moment, Willow had been hit too? A bullet had gone through the kitchen window and she had screamed. Willow could be hurt… or worse. But going inside the house to check on Willow would mean letting go of Xander and somehow she could not do it. If she stirred the world would start moving again too. And there wouldn’t be a Xander in it anymore. So she stayed still and held her breath.
"Buffy? Buffy, what happened?"
Willow's voice was eerily calm as she descended the front steps. Her eyes were clouded over and there was blood slicking down her chest as well. Buffy felt a sense of sickening dread as she watched the bullet slip out of Willow's shoulder into the witch's hand.
"We have to... have to call the police," Buffy managed. "Warren. Warren..." Saying it would make it true. She wrapped her arms tighter around the corpse so that the body's head fell against her shoulder, as though hiding the face would spare Willow. "Warren killed Xander."
"No." Willow yanked the body from Buffy's grasp and tumbled to the grass as the weight pulled her down. She pressed her hands over his heart then ran them frantically over his face and body. "No!"
Buffy shivered as the air went chill and clouds gathered over the sun. "NO!" Willow's eyes had gone black.
"Willow," Buffy tried. The blood loss was making her woozy. "We have to... have to call the police. Please."
"The police?" Willow's voice, Buffy barely recognized it. "No, I don't think so."
Buffy goggled at her. "Willow, no. He's human. You can't... The police will find him."
She wasn't really sure it was Willow now who was talking back to her. "Not if I find him first."
Buffy tried to fight the dazed sensation that was seeking over her, but Willow was already moving, sweeping past her and taking the clouds with her.
"Right." Buffy heard a disembodied voice say. "Don't think I'll be letting that happen. But just in case..." She saw the floating taser a split second before it jolted into her wrecked shoulder. "I might need a little bargaining chip."
He’d made himself invisible, she realized. And he was touching her. The piece of shit who had killed Xander was right in front of her, and she couldn’t move her arms to stop him. She felt it bubbling up in her too, what must have hit Willow already. She’d been willing to kill before. But she knew what it felt like too, when she thought she’d made Katrina’s death. She had to stop Willow. But invisible hands grasped her throbbing arm and she was shoved into the back of a van. Something heavy smashed against her skull and everything went dark.
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“Dude. There’s, like, cops all over your house.”
Dawn blinked dumbly at the sight for a minute, forgetting Jeremy Sutter at her side completely as she noted police, an ambulance, and one of those pop-up stretchers covered with a white sheet.
A body-shaped white sheet.
Suddenly her triumph at getting some dumb guy to walk her home seemed like something she’d felt a century ago. “Go home,” she ordered solemnly before sprinting toward the crime scene.
“Miss! Miss! Stop!”
“This is my house,” she insisted. “Who… what happened?”
“I’m sorry, young lady. There’s been a shooting. We’re—“
“Has anyone called my mom? Where’s my sister? Is that her?” she pointed at the stretcher. It looked too bulky to be Buffy. In fact, it almost had to be... “Oh my god, Xander.”
“Alexander Harris?” The cop gave her a sad look. “I’m sorry, but it appears your friend was shot.”
“What happened? Oh god, Anya.” She could barely get the words out. “Has anyone told his wife yet?”
Another of the officers put a warm hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t we take a ride,” she suggested.
“I need to see him first.” She could feel them exchanging looks over her head, but finally the woman escorted her to the gurney. Dawn pulled the sheet down. The skin on his cheek was still warm and his eyes were closed. Xander looked like he was sleeping, rumpled hair and slack mouth. Except that there was a trail of blood from his lips to his chin. Like a sleeping vampire Xander.
Only he wasn’t a vampire. Xander wouldn’t rise again. There would be no more Xander ever. No sign of her sister. Maybe she had seen it. Maybe she was already on the trail of whatever had done this. Dawn certainly hoped so.
“Thank you,” she managed as she pulled the sheet back over him.
She couldn’t bring herself to look at Anya as the officer recited her little speech. It was hard enough to hear her. “I don’t understand. What do you mean he’s dead? Xander can’t be dead. There can’t just suddenly be no more Xander! That’s just… stupid.”
At least Tara was there too. She’d been at the cash register when they’d come in, and now she had her arms around Anya’s waist, likely the only thing that was keeping the other woman upright.
“It's mortal and stupid.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” Dawn heard herself whimper as Tara tightened her grip.
“We’ll need you to come downtown within the next few days, fill out some paperwork…” The officer droned. Customers were shooting Anya pained glances and filing out. Anya just stood clinging to Tara and the countertop. When the officer was gone, it was only the three of them in the silent shop.
“Can you lock up?” Tara whispered. “I think I better take her home, stay with her for a while.”
Dawn nodded numbly. She hugged Anya tight but still couldn’t bear to look at her face. There was a loud rumbling. Tara’s head shot up. Outside in the distance Dawn could see a concentrated swarm of dark clouds.
“Willow,” Anya said quietly.
“Oh no.” Tara looked pained. “Do you think she’s after whoever did this? What if she loses control?”
Dawn finally brought herself to look at Anya. Their eyes met and Dawn had the disorienting feeling that she was looking in a mirror.
“Good.”
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“What the hell are you doing with the Slayer, you moron?”
“It must be part of some clever scheme!”
“Just re-visible me already, numb nuts. What are you even doing back here? Thought you were through with us.”
“I am through with you, you retards. I just came to get my stuff and then I’m going to go stay with my parents until I have to go on trial for your last ‘clever scheme’. And you never answered my question about Buffy Summers and why she’s unconscious in your hideout.”
“You’re not gonna… do stuff to her, are you? ‘Cause her boyfriend is kinda scary.”
“Not a bad plan, but no. I may need her for negotiating. I just killed Xander Harris and I think I winged Willow.”
“You… You killed Xander? You better fucking hope you did more than wing Willow.”
Willow felt an absurd grin split her face. “Thanks for the concern, Jonathan. I’m just peachy.” She smiles widely at Warren. “You’re about to be less so.”
Tucker’s brother hopped up in her face. “You stay away from Warren!”
She rolled her eyes. “It doesn’t sound like either of you two had anything to do with this, so I’m willing to let you go.” As she spoke Warren was snapped back against the wall, splayed out and sputtering.
“Come on, Andrew,” Jonathan whispered loudly. “Let’s get out of here.”
“We have to help Warren!”
“Bored now,” Willow sighed. One of the action figures on the shelf shattered.
“NO! Not BOBA FETT!”
“Andrew, come on.” Jonathan grabbed the other boy by the back of his shirt and hustled out the way she’d come in.
“Now that we’re alone,” she cooed, “what to do with you?” She fondled the bullet she’d expelled from her own body. “You do seem fond of bullets…”
Warren’s eyes went wide as the bullet levitated toward him. “What are you doing?”
”Shush!”
”Hey! I'm sorry, okay?”
She smiled wider. “Oh, are you? Sorry? Wow, that’s… do you know what Xander is? Xander is dead, you miserable thing!” The bullet pressed pierced the cloth of his shirt and she listened to his gasp as it drilled ever-so-slowly into his skin.
“Stop! God, please!” He gasped as the metal dug in.
“Willow. Willow, no.” Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Buffy struggling to her feet. There was a rod sticking out of the wall. When Buffy grasped it, it fell to the floor and so did the Slayer.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” She kept the pace steady. She wanted Warren to feel every moment as it worked its way into his heart, wanted him to live everything he’d put Xander through in slow motion. “Something, isn't it? One tiny piece of metal destroys everything. You tore his heart up. Took him away from us, from Anya, from me. From the world... Do you know how few Xanders there are? There was just the one, and now he’s gone. And a waste like you gets to live? Something just seems a mite unfair about that.”
Buffy had regained her feet and the end of the rod had an impressive blade. “Willow! Stop this!”
Willow sighed. She didn’t want to fight Buffy. “I was going to draw this out,” she explained mournfully as Warren twitched and shrieked, blood beginning to pool below his feet.
Her hand shot in the Slayer’s direction and the axe flew out of Buffy’s hand and into her grip. Warren loosed from the wall and stumbled forward. “Thanks,” she hissed to her friend. She turned her black eyes to Warren and gave him one last smirk. Then she hefted the axe and took her swing.
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Only two parts to go, if you can believe it. This has been such fun! Thank you all.
Fix It
Author’s Notes: A big thank you once again to Kar and to all my readers. I’m posting the last two chapters. It has been quite a ride. Thank you all so much. Credit for the poem go to Kahlil Gibran.
In our twentieth installment there is continuing fallout.
Chapter Twenty: Fix It
Buffy stared at the chunks of Warren in front of her and felt simultaneously disgusted and pleased. She knew that she should be horrified or feel sorry for Warren or something. Something other than being glad he was dead. There should be something in her head other than a voice reminding her that the thing in pieces before her had torn out her heart.
“Oh, goddess,” Willow sagged against the wall as Buffy staggered forward to grab the axe. She felt drawn to it, as though it were hers.
"Willow, we should..." As the words came out of her mouth Buffy realized that, actually she had no idea what they should do. She didn't want Willow's life to be over because of this. At the same time, Willow obviously needed help or discipline or... she wished Giles was there.
"It didn't change anything," Willow wept. "I'm so stupid. I thought it would, I don't know... but it didn't do anything. Xander is still dead."
Buffy used the scythe-thingy as a cane and hobbled over to Willow. She slung her good arm around her friend. "I know."
Willow shook her head. "There has to be a way to fix it."
Buffy felt a sickening sense of deja-vu. "No, Willow, that's a bad, bad idea."
"Not what I did for you," Willow interrupted. She drew herself up and faced Buffy down. "I have a better idea this time."
And then *blink* she was no longer under Buffy's arm. She tumbled forward and cursed. Whatever Willow was planning, Buffy had to stop it.
"Police! Freeze!"
Oh, super.
Buffy needed a plan. This was the Sunnydale PD after all. Not exactly the brainiest detectives here. She just needed something convincing.
She grabbed at her bloody arm. "Oh, thank God you're here! He was going to kill me!"
Fighting against the growing agony her wound was causing, she spun a tale of shooting, kidnapping, and self-defense. She could tell some of them weren't buying it, but then one whispered something in another's ear and she could clearly make out one word: slayer.
Suddenly they were all agree to believe that she'd been the one who left blood all over the kitchen counter, and a neighbor had seen a black van fleeing the scene. It was close enough to the truth that they could believe it. It was less of a stretch than gangs on PCP after all.
"We'll need to take that into evidence," one of the officers said, gesturing to indicate her axe.
Buffy felt a pang as she handed it over. "Okay," she allowed. "But I'm going to need that back."
-------
Dawn had just finished locking up when Willow popped into the center shop. "Gah!"
"Sorry Dawnie," Willow muttered as she rushed past her and started ransacking the shelves for herbs.
"Hey!" Dawn objected.
"Just keep out of the way," Willow snapped. "I've got work to do."
"What are you doing?" she demanded, flinching as Willow tossed a canister over her shoulder.
"I'm going to fix it."
Dawn felt a frission of hope but tamped it down. "Fix what, Willow? You can't... you can't make Xander alive again."
Willow sighed. "I know," she sighed. "So I'm going to make it so it didn't happen." Dawn felt pinned by Willow's gaze. "I was there, Dawnie. I could have stopped him. This time I will."
"You can... you can do that?" Dawn tried to sort out the terror and hope that Willow's words had inspired.
"Guess we're about to find out," Willow announced cheerfully. She assembled the ingredients on the table and one of the books on the wall thwapped down beside the assorted herbs. Willow carried the heavy clock from Anya's desk and placed it next to the book.
Dawn's curiosity got the better of her and she stepped slowly to the table. She watched as Willow crumbled leaves to release their pungent scents and lit a trio of candles. Then the chanting began and Dawn felt the floor under her feet shift.
"I invoke thee, Saturn, father of time. Hear my plea..."
Dawn felt the words wash over her as Willow alternated between English and Latin. The floor underneath her was beginning to shift. So much power, she mused. With Xander gone, she was the only one left who didn't know what it was like to be full of such fantastic potential.
Everyone gave Willow a hard time about her spells going wonky but that wasn't really what happened. If anything her spells worked too well. When she cast that her ‘Will Be Done’, her every whim had been played out. She'd tried to sprinkle a little forgetfulness and had wiped out all their memories. If anyone could make time run backward, it was Willow.
And now, stuck inside the swirling darkness with Willow, Dawn watched as something subtle played over the witch's face. Was it... smoothing out? Was her hair changing?
Dawn felt a tingling in her fingers and toes. It reminded her of the sensation the champagne at the wedding had given her, all fizzy and weightless. Her limbs began to feel hollow.
Then a sudden horror hit her.
The spell wasn't making her feel fizzy, the spell was turning her into fizz. She was dissipating. Willow was going too far, like always.
"Willow, you have to stop! You're going too far back!"
But Willow didn't seem to hear her. "...audite meus placitum... Cronos, hear my plea..."
Have to stop her Dawn told herself frantically, trying to figure out how the hell she was going to accomplish that.
Willow turned her face to the ceiling and lifted her arms. "Sinus vicis ut meus mos! So mote it--"
Dawn panted as the fizzing sensation left her arms and the room stopped swirling with fog. She dropped the chair she'd bashed across the back of Willow's skull and touched her finger lightly to the witch's neck. Once she was sure Willow was going to be okay, she pushed her slack body into a chair and limped to the desk.
"9-1-1. Please state the nature of your emergency."
"What day is it?"
"It's Tuesday. Miss--"
"The date, I need the date."
"It's May 21st, 2002. Is this a prank?"
"No, no prank. I'm sorry."
"Then what is the nature of the emergency."
Dawn gulped. "My friend. She hit her head pretty hard. I just want to make sure she's going to be okay." She looked at the picture of Xander and Anya in their wedding finery on the desk.
"Otherwise everything is normal."
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"To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven. A time to be born and a time to die..."
Willow could barely bring herself to lift her head off Buffy's shoulder. Through the curtain of her friend's hair she could see Dawn and Tara holding up Anya. Giles and Joyce stood nearby, both starting intently at the headstone. The Harrises looked sour and sad on opposite sides of the grave from one another.
The grave.
Xander's grave. Alexander LaVelle Harris. Beloved husband, son, friend. Hero.
When the reverend stopped, Willow realized it was her turn. She stood, still gripping Buffy's hand for support. Buffy, who hadn't turned her in, who had been willing to send herself to prison but not her friend. But, who had called in Giles, who would be taking her back to England for counseling. Willow wasn't entirely sure she wanted the Council's counseling, but everyone agreed she needed help. Even if they all understood her motives. And seemed in a twisted way almost proud of her.
Excepting Tara. She caught the other witch's eye and felt fresh tears at the disappointment she saw there. Buffy's grip on her hand tightened and Willow realized they were waiting for her. She pulled the note card from her pocket, but she didn't need it. She'd committed the words to memory.
"I have passed a mountain peak and my soul is soaring in the Firmament of complete and unbound freedom;
I am far, far away, my companions, and the clouds are
hiding the hills from my eyes.
The valleys are becoming flooded with an ocean of silence, and the Hands of oblivion are engulfing the roads and the houses;
The prairies and fields are disappearing behind a white specter that looks like the spring cloud, yellow as the candlelight and red as the twilight.
The songs of the waves and the humans of the streams
are scattered, and the voices of the throngs reduced to silence; And I can hear naught but the music of Eternity in exact harmony with the spirit's desires.
I am cloaked in full whiteness;
I am in comfort; I am in peace."
She turned back and saw Buffy's face lifted up, the sunlight glinting off her tears. "Yes," she affirmed with the utter conviction of one who had been there. "Yes he is."
Willow knew any moment she was going to be unintelligible. Before the tears completely closed her throat, she managed to whisper in her friend's ear, "Then we'll leave him in peace."
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Next part is posted. Please review!
Lost and Found
Author’s Notes: Thanks to Kar for betaing two chapters in one day and for taking this ride with me. Thank you to all my readers and reviewers. I’ve had such a great time with this.
In our twenty-first installment Sunnydale welcomes back some characters.
Chapter Twenty-One: Lost and Found
It was still so weird. It still jumped out at her sometimes, coming across it on patrol. Like, Bam, Xander's dead!
She lit a cigarette and turned away, wandering away from his grave. Buffy was beating the shit out of some Faryl. "Need any help, B?"
"No, I'm good," the other slayer grunted.
Faith waited patiently for her to snap the thing's neck. "Think that's enough for tonight? I could use a drink."
She waited for Buffy to give her some sort of holier-than-thou speech about underage drinking considering how she'd gotten a stripe taken off when she'd helped herself to one of the beers in the fridge. She'd be twenty-one in a few months, so she didn't really see what B's problem was.
"Okay," Buffy shocked her by replying. "The Bronze is a good place to finish up patrol anyway."
What was with the sudden attitude shift. "Thought I was in for a lecture."
"Huh?" Buffy twirled the axe like a lethal baton. They were both glad to have it back. They'd agreed to loan it to the Council for Willow to do the spell after two more girls had turned up with knife wounds, eyeless and slashed throats. Girls who weren't in training. Whoever was after them knew about the ones the Council had missed. And those girls needed some way to protect themselves.
Of course that didn't solve the problem that they still needed to find those girls, who were probably confused that they could now bend steel with their bare hands. Willow had a few ideas about that, but Faith wasn't sure they would work. From the stories Buffy told though, it seemed like it was a good idea not to underestimate the redhead.
And she and Buffy were learning to share. After all, they weren't the Chosen Two now. They were the senior members of a whole flock of slayers. A bunch of girls they'd never met, which was even weirder. And was having the bizarre effect of making them closer.
"You went ballistic when I drank one of yours the other night," Faith reminded her.
Buffy frowned. "Oh, that, yeah.... You know, you might as well drink them. No one else is going to." The blonde slayer laid the axe over her shoulder. "Let's drop this off before we hit the club."
It was becoming clearer now. The beers were for Fangless. Who no one had heard from in months.
Of all the surprises she'd found on her return to Sunnydale, the framed photo over Buffy's bed of the Slayer and the Slayer of Slayers decked out in dress clothes and clenching on the dance floor had thrown her most of all.
Tara was waiting for them on the back porch and Dawn came galloping out the door as they approached. Brat was all woman-sized and Faith didn't know what Xander's widow was going to do when the girl had to go back to school in the fall. She wouldn't be able to keep the shop running for the ex-vengence demon. Maybe Giles would come back.
Buffy ran up the walk to meet her sister and then Buff was dropping the weapon and sprinting into the house. Dawn was yelling something after her, but Faith was pretty sure Big Sis had stopped listening. Tara picked up the discarded axe and slipped it in behind the door before joining Dawn on the porch. Joyce came through the door after her.
"You want to come get some coffee with us?" Tara asked.
"Spike's back," Dawn explained. "Their reunion? It's probably going to get loud."
"Dawn!" Joyce scolded. She cleared her throat. "We just think it's best to give them some privacy," she explained.
Faith smirked. "I'm good. Gonna have my smoke and maybe take a walk. You guys go on."
She took a seat on the porch step and lit another coffin nail. There was some yelling and crashing inside, but she was keeping out of it unless she heard her name.
Faith stiffened as she saw a slim, dark figure coming up the sidewalk.
"Are you Buffy Summers?" the young teen asked. She looked scared to death.
"Nope. I'm Faith. You need some help?"
"It's just... I think I might be one of you."
-------
Buffy drank in the sight of him lounging on her couch. He looked almost the same as when she'd last seen him, but the bruises and cuts were fresh.
"Buffy."
His voice. She was going to melt. Whatever boneheaded thing he'd been off doing, she was pretty certain she was going to forgive him. He'd come back. No one ever came back.
"Buffy?"
She blinked up at him. He looked eager and terrified as he stood and walked slowly toward her. She closed the distance and grabbed his shirt. Pulled him closer for a hot, hungry kiss.
"Where the hell have you been?" she demanded between kisses.
"Things I have to tell you," he panted.
"Right. Things I need to tell you too," she agreed. "But later." She ignored his injuries and held him tight. "Right now I just want to bask. You idiot."
He smiled at her. His genuine smiles were so rare and beautiful. There would be time to talk about all of it, where he'd been, what she'd been through while he was gone. For the moment she just wanted to look at him, touch him, reassure herself that he was there.
Those eyes. She'd missed those eyes on her. She stared into them and felt an alarm in her brain. In his eyes where was a still, sparkling something. A something that hadn't been there before he'd left.
"Oh my God." She felt a weight slam into her chest. She couldn't breath. Suddenly the words Dawn had screamed at her made sense. Tara says he has an aura now.
"A soul," she gasped. "You have a soul?"
She scrambled back from him and grabbed for the nearest stake when the vampire nodded at her.
"Buffy, what--"
"Who the hell are you?" She demanded. "And what have you done with Spike?"
~~ End of Borrowed Time ~~
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What’s that, you say? This can’t really be the end? Well, my beta thought this was too cruel, so soon I shall post an epilogue from the up-coming sequel that will clear things up a bit. Please review!
Epilogue
Author’s Notes: Huge thanks to Kar for all her beta work and the banners. Thanks to my readers and reviewers. And of course, thank you Shan for setting up such a great challenge to get me inspired. This has been such fun thanks to all of you.
Epilogue
Spike didn't look up right away when she marched in. He was almost done packing and he was still sore at her. After being gone so long he'd expected a bit of anger and pouting on the subject. What he hadn't expected was for her first reaction to be outright rejection.
Though to be fair, that hadn't been her first reaction. No, first Buffy had kissed him and held him, and he'd been so awash with relief that he hadn't been at all prepared for her to go on the offensive. Over the soul, of all sodding things.
"You're packing?"
Her voice sounded so sad he could hardly bear it.
"Moving," he replied as gruffly as he could manage.
When he looked up she was staring at him with wide, wet eyes. "Were you even going to tell me, or were you just going to disappear again?"
Oh Christ. He'd hurt her. Which had been distasteful enough in the past but now made him want to throw himself at her feet and beg forgiveness. But the more he kept those feelings under wraps, the more likely the Slayer was to savvy that he was still himself.
"Just across town, Slayer. Getting myself a place above ground is all."
"Oh." She still looked eight kinds of confused but at least she no longer looked like waterworks were imminent. "Do you need some help?" she asked hesitantly.
He tossed a bag of burba weed in a box and shrugged. "Do as you like."
Buffy snorted. "Fine. Whatever, William. You do what you want too then." She turned on her heel and stalked toward the door. Under her breath, so low even vampire hearing almost missed it, she muttered, "Why do I listen to Dawn? 'He's the same. He still loves you'. Right."
He lunged after her and caught her arm before she could fling the door open. The action sent them both toppling and she landed across him with an oof. Spike couldn't help himself and a laugh escaped. For a moment Buffy gave him dagger eyes, but then she let her head rest against his chest, so he brought his hand up to stroke gratefully through her hair.
He pulled at her head gently so that she'd look him in the eyes. "Of course I still love you. Doesn't make me a different person, you know."
"But it does," she insisted. "You remember Spike, but you're not him. Angel--"
He abandoned her hair to place his fingers over her mouth. "You forget, love, or maybe you just don't realize, was a century between the vampire you met and the vampire who was cursed. Change wasn't so startling when it first happened."
"You don't know that," she retorted.
He gave her a look. "Course I do. I was there, Buffy."
"You... were... what?" She looked utterly perplexed. "What do you mean you were there?"
Spike sighed. "When the gypsies cursed him, we were all together then, the four of us. Until Darla abandoned him."
Buffy blinked. "Darla abandoned him? You mean he went back to Darla after he got all soul-cursed?"
So Angel had left out a few key pieces of the story. He could see as how Angel wouldn’t have been eager to tell the Slayer he'd gone skittering back to his Sire for comfort. Would have been much better for him to let the girl think he immediately started saving the world for Christmas and puppies.
"Yes," he told her. "And, I came back to you, only I sought my soul."
She cupped his face with one hand. "Why?"
He closed his eyes and turned in her grip to kiss the palm of her hand. "Just something I had to do. Couldn't... couldn't manage without it anymore." It was the closest answer he could find to the truth. In fact he sometimes wondered what had possessed him to do such a fool thing. Especially when he'd been alone during the endless days in the cave, reliving his every killing in gruesome Technicolor.
"But you have to be different. I mean, it has to feel different--"
He nodded. "Soul changes things, yeah. But not the way you think. Doesn't replace anything. Just makes me more."
"More what?"
More like a man he wanted to tell her, but didn't. “More myself.”
Buffy sighed and pressed one quick kiss against his lips. "Vague much? Come on, I'll help you move your stuff."
He let her pull him to his feet. Was still disconcerting sometimes, the way such a little slip of a girl could haul him around. Sexy as hell, too. He'd not forgotten that power, even if his yen to hide her from the world and bedeck her with pearls had increased substantially.
"And, then maybe we could get some dinner or something."
He gave her the eyebrow. "You asking me for a date, pet?"
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Spike. You can call it that if it makes you happy."
He saw a panic settle over her features at the word. "It's not like that, Buffy. Don't have to be worried about making me happy."
Happy, as more than a momentary circumstance, seemed an unlikely prospect since he'd returned to Sunnydale. Harris in the ground, Red under some sort of Council house arrest, Anya a little shell who could barely mange to work a register. Bit grown like a weed into a woman, taking the burden off Demon Girl. So not all the changes were so terrible.
Buffy absorbed his pronouncement and smirked at him. Held out her hand and let him twine his fingers with her. "Come on. You know you're hungry for something all rare and juicy."
“Putting yourself on the menu then, pet?”
She glared at him, but he could see the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Well, I guess you are still Spike after all.”
He knew things were far from settled, but he reckoned it was a good start.
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No promises on when the sequel will start showing up. I need to plan it so it doesn’t become one of those languishing unfinished things. I hope this cleared up a few things for folks and that Buffy’s reaction in the last chapter makes a little more sense now. Please let me know! Thank you all again for reading.
If you are under the age of 17, please use your head and do not read fics that are labeled "NC-17". Parents, I cannot control what your children are reading, so please be advised that the majority of the fics archived here are NOT suitable for those under the age of 17.
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer and I am in no way making any profit from this site. This is for pure entertainment purposes only.
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