Chapter Nine Gentrification 190

When Buffy could tear her lips away from Spike's, hoping he would continue to hold her up— her own legs having developed serious issues with keeping her vertical— she gasped, "What is wrong with us?"

"Don't know," he said, pulling her even more tightly against his body. "Don't care, either. Want you so bad I can't see straight."

"It's gotta be the spell..." Buffy's reply trailed off into more kisses that had her climbing his body to wrap her legs around his waist.

"I take back everything bad I ever said about magic," he said, moving his hands to her ass and holding her in place. "Wonderful stuff."

He walked toward the bed, Buffy still clinging to him and peppering his neck with kisses and nibbles that made him growl low in his chest. He stopped when he reached the bed, half afraid to release her in case she changed her mind. When he didn't move, Buffy lowered her legs until her toes were touching the floor. Her hands slid down from his neck and began pushing his coat off his shoulders, giving him all the encouragement he needed.

He shrugged out of the coat and began to tug on her pajama top, pulling it over her head and throwing it across the room.

"Ah, there they are," he said, dropping his head and taking one nipple in his mouth. "Knew they'd be delicious," he managed to get out between long hard pulls. One hand was kneading the other breast leaving Buffy's hands free to tug on his tee shirt. When he wouldn't raise his arms for her, she ripped the shirt up the front and did her own oral exploration of the torso she hadn't stop thinking about since she'd last seen it.

"Need to take this horizontal, luv," he groaned as her mouth traveled down his chest and she stuck her tongue in his navel. He turned them so that his knees were touching the mattress, then fell down on his back with Buffy on top of him rubbing herself vigorously against the bulge straining his zipper.

"Hey, Buffy, I...Aaaaaah!"

Willow's scream acted like a bucket of cold water. Buffy froze, her legs still on either side of Spike's hips and her mouth on his chest.

"This isn't what it looks like..." she ventured, sitting up and trying to cover her bare breasts.

Beneath her, Spike was swearing quietly in three different languages, his hands still clutching Buffy's hips and pulling her down onto his aching cock.

"Stop it!" she hissed, grabbing his hands and pinning them over his head—a move that put her breasts right in front of his face. She gave a little whimper as he tried to reach a nipple with his mouth.

Willow was still frozen in the doorway, but at the sound of other footsteps, she quickly came into the room and shut the door behind her.

"Buffy," she said firmly, "get off Spike. Now. And put your shirt back on! You too, mister," she continued when she noticed Spike's equally bare chest. "Get dressed and then we're going to talk about this...this...situation."

"Can't we talk about it tomorrow?" Buffy whined, doing as she was told, but with a pout on her face.

"We could talk about it next week," Spike put in, reaching helplessly for her as she walked across the room and retrieved her pajama top.

"Where's your shirt?" Willow demanded. "You need to put your shirt on too." She was having a hard time keeping her eyes off the two toned torsos in front of her - they kept darting back and forth between Buffy's breasts and Spike's flat stomach. "This is giving me a headache," she moaned, sinking onto her own bed.

"My shirt's ripped," Spike said, sitting up but remaining on Buffy's bed. "And if you have a headache, you should probably go lie down somewhere. Somewhere else would be good..."

"No! I'm not leaving you two alone. That's obviously going to lead to...to bad things. Bad things that I'll have to explain to Giles and.... Nope. Not leaving you alone. That's final."

"Fuck!" Spike dropped back onto bed and stared up at the ceiling, completely unconcerned that his erection was more than visible to both girls. He adjusted himself conspicuously and then sat up again.

"I need to go," he said abruptly, pulling his coat up off the floor.

Buffy's face was a mixture of shame and longing as she watched him put his coat on.

"Where...why are you leaving?"

"Because the witch isn't going to leave us alone and I have a problem to take care of," he growled. "Unless you'd like me to take care of it right here...while the two of you watch...?" His voice trailed off hopefully.

"What? Oh! No! Ewwwww, Spike!"

"Fine. I'm out of here, then. See you tomorrow night, Slayer."

He left the room in a swish of leather, not even noticing the eyes peering out from the room next door. Eyes that caught a glimpse of bare chest before he hit the stairwell and leaped down again.

"All right. Now tell me what was going on? No, wait. Don't tell me. I saw what was going on. You need to tell me why it was happening."

"I don't know," Buffy moaned, sinking down onto the bed beside Willow. "We saved Dr. Inkfel and a couple of Initiative guys, I slayed some vamps, got hit in the head, took Dr. Inkfel home, and then I got dizzy so we came back here."

"You got hit on the head? You were dizzy? And that slimey poophead took advantage of it?" Willow's face colored with anger. "I'm going to turn him into a cockroach and then step on him."

Buffy shook her head. "It wasn't like that," she said. "Really. He got me ice for my head, and he brought me home, and then..." She raised her eyes to Willow's. "I'm pretty sure I jumped him. He didn't fight me off, but I think I made the first move. He was just planning to make sure I was safe and then leave."

"Oh." Willow looked disappointed that she couldn't test her skills at turning people into animals.

"You could always try turning Professor Walsh into a cockroach," Buffy said helpfully.

Willow nodded. "I'm keeping that in reserve in case she tries to kidnap you again."

Buffy shrugged. "We saved two of her guys tonight—but now I guess they'll tell her they saw Spike, so who knows what she'll do next? She probably thinks he's one of us now. Or I'm one of ... him. Crap."

"You're avoiding the real issue here. Buffy."

"Who, me? Avoiding something? That's just... probably true." Buffy raised sad eyes. "Do you think this is just left over lust? Maybe if we just do it, we'll get it out of our systems and then we can go back to being... whatever we would be if we hadn't spent all that time smooching."

"This is my fault," Willow said sadly. "I need to fix it."

"No more spells, Will. I don't want... I don't know what I don't want. I just want to know that it's just me wanting... or not wanting... it."

"But if the spell is still..."

Buffy shook her head. "We're not in love. We're not talking about getting married." Buffy pushed the thought of Spike's ring tucked in the back of her jewelry drawer out of her head. "We just really, really want to have sex."

"Buffy. It's Spike. A week ago you hated him."

"Well, yeah. But now I know him better... and I always thought he was hot—in an evil kind of way.

"You cannot seriously be thinking about having sex with Spike!"

"Well, why not? I mean if that's what it takes to make it go away..."

"I have one word for you."

Buffy blinked and raised an eyebrow. "One word?"

"Angel."

"Oh God." Buffy fell back on the bed. "He'd go nuts..."

"And he'd dust Spike. Just in case that matters..."

Buffy sat up. "Of course it matters. It would be my fault."

"Is that the only reason?"

"Maybe?"

"Not very convincing, Missy. This has left over spell written all over it. You two still think, on some level, that you're in love. That's why Spike is being so nice to you, and it's why you keep wanting to jump his bones." Willow shook her head sorrowfully. "I'm going to have to fix this."

"Maybe... and I can't believe I'm suggesting this... maybe we should talk to Giles?"

"No! He'll just say I ... well I don't think he'll be supportive. He'll just tell me I messed up. I can fix this. And until I do, you don't go anywhere alone with Spike. Is that clear?"

Buffy glared, her lip coming out in another pout. "I'll go where I want, with who I want," she said stubbornly.

"Whom."

"Huh?"

"Nothing. Never mind. Just go to bed. I'll work on this tomorrow."

"No spells," Buffy muttered as she climbed back into her bed and snuggled under the covers.

"We'll see..." Wilow's response was barely audible as she began searching through her spell book for some cure for whatever had gone wrong with her "My Will Be Done" spell. As far as she knew, neither Xander nor Giles had had any lingering effects from the spell. She quickly rejected the idea that Giles might be able to lend some insight.

~~~~~~~~

"Well. This has been most helpful. And interesting." Heloise beamed at Giles from across the table.

"You do understand that, had you not already known about slayers and Buffy's status, I would not be sharing this information with you," Giles warned.

"I do. And I appreciate your making an exception for me. Although, I have to say, I don't see the harm in sharing the information about vampires and demons. It has been a wonderful addition to my research, and that doesn't harm Ms. Summers in any way."

"Perhaps not," Giles said. "But to draw that kind of attention to myself would then be to draw attention to the other people in our small group. One of which is, obviously, Buffy."

"So," Heloise nodded. "Ms. Summers is a typical slayer, then?" She missed Giles's incredulous snort, continuing, "Do all slayers have their own vampire boyfriends to assist them?"

"Their own—" Giles struggled for a minute to understand what she was asking, realizing it just as Spike burst through the front door, smoking blanket on his head.

"Rupert, I need— Oh, you're here," he said to Heloise. "Didn't waste any time, did you?"

"Mr. Giles and I have had a wonderful afternoon," she replied. "I know so much more now about vampires and demons. He is just brilliant. Truly." She beamed at Giles, who blushed and tried not to see the growing smirk on Spike's face.

"Yeah, yeah. The Watcher's just full of useful information—some of which I need to access right now, so if you've had your fill..."

"Oh dear! I have spent the entire afternoon here, haven't I?" She smiled at Giles as she stood up and gathered her notes. "But I'm sure there is so much more you have to share with me... Perhaps you'd join me for dinner one night this week. I am quite the good cook — or so I'm told."

While Spiked snickered quietly, Giles walked Heloise to the door, telling her he would have to check his calendar, but that it sounded like a lovely idea. He ushered her out, instructing her to get home quickly before the sun fully set. He closed the door behind her and turned to glare at Spike who was now laughing out loud.

"Should have known you two would hit it off," he said, still chuckling. "If she'd been born on the other side of the pond, she could have been a watcher. Maybe..." He thought about it for a minute. "Well, not one that handles a slayer, I reckon. She's too weak for that. But a researcher or something..."

"I find it somewhat disconcerting that you know as much as you seem to know about watchers and the Council. We may have to have a talk about how you acquired this knowledge..."

"Yeah, well, right now we need to have a talk about the witch and that bloody spell that she did." Spike growled, throwing himself into the chair that still smelled of him and Buffy.

"Willow? She broke the spell days ago. What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about—" Spike broke off, quickly doing a visual check for any easily reached weapons. "I'm talking about the fact that your slayer and I... That I can't be in the same room with her without... But I want to be in the same room she is—all the time. Want it more than is natural."

Giles's face went from ashen to purple. "Are you saying you want Buffy to... that you think my slayer..." He started to rise from the couch, clearly planning to remove Spike from his sight.

"Calm down, Watcher. I'm saying that Buffy and I want each other. Know it's wrong. We both know how wrong it is. But it's there, it's real and it's getting to be bloody annoying."

"Annoying."

"Yeah. Annoying. Can't be around her without sporting a... And it's not like she's immune to it! Makes it that much harder when I can hear her heartbeat go up when I touch her, that I can smell her—" The expression on Giles's face stopped him just in time. "It's unnatural, Watcher. Got to be that bloody spell. And now the witch wants to 'fix it" herself. Who knows what will happen to us next if she starts mucking around without guidance?"

"Quite right," Giles sighed, settling back into the cushions. "So, you and Buffy haven't... acted upon these urges, I take it?"

Spike shook his head. "Not yet, but I'm only flesh and blood. And I couldn't fight this if I wanted to." Seeing the expression on Giles's face, he quickly added, "And I do! Want to, that is. Fight it. Fighting it all the time. Grrrr. Argh!" He waved his arms around in an effort to demonstrate how hard he was fighting his urges.

"Perhaps Buffy is not as affected as you claim to be," Giles said hopefully. "Surely she can..."

Spike stopped punching the air and just stared at Giles until he looked away.

"Oh dear Lord."

"Exactly."

Spike stood up. "You need to fix this. Before Willow accidently has us trying to kill each other again."

"Is that her plan?"

"Not exactly. We told her we don't want to hate each other again. We just want to be able to be in the same room without— But it's Red. Can feel the power she's got, but it's all over the place. She tries to fix us without some guidance..."

Giles nodded and took off his glasses to rub his eyes. "I'll speak with her," he said. "In the meantime..."

"In the meantime, I'm going to go help a friend move out of his house. He promised to give me the furniture he isn't taking with him."

"A friend?"

"Harmless demon type. Lives on the edge of Demontown. Some human with more money than sense offered him a bundle for his house, and he grabbed it and ran."

Giles frowned. "Humans are moving into the demon side of town? That doesn't seem wise."

Spike shrugged. "Prices are lower. What was a windfall for my friend prob'ly seemed like a steal to buyer. And it's happening more and more. Humans buy the houses, fix them up, put up wards if they know about such things, and first thing you know, the whole block's gone human and the rest of the demons can't afford to live there."

"I suppose it was inevitable...although you'd think that with Sunnydale's vampire problem, there really wouldn't be that much demand for new housing."

"Soon's the humans become the owners, they're just as safe in those houses as they would be anywhere else." Spike shrugged again. "Your home's where you make it, innit?" He stretched and walked to the door, peering out first to be sure that the sun had set. "Anyway, I'm off to get some furniture to make my new home a little more homey. Don't suppose you'd like to donate anything to the cause? Bottle of booze, maybe? A few books?"

"Spike..." Giles rose to his feet and walked toward the door. "About Buffy..."

"Yeah, yeah. Touch her and I'm dust. Already know that, don't I? Wouldn't have told you about it if I was planning to take advantage of it."

"Why aren't you?" The watcher's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What are you up to?"

Spike blew out an exasperated breath. "Not up to anything. Was engaged to the chit. Still got those feelings nagging at me, I reckon. Don't want to hurt her."

"You are a very...different...vampire," Giles said, frowning and already mentally listing the old Watchers Diaries that he needed to reread.

"Glad one of you can see that," Spike muttered as he pulled the door shut behind him.