Ghosts of the Past
Bloodshedverse Challenge 82

A/N: Standard disclaimers apply, you know, the usual stuff about Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.
This is based on Season 2’s “I Only Have Eyes For You”. Some of the dialog and action is based on the episode, other things have been altered to fit my reality.




It was another Tuesday in Sunnydale. Buffy knew that because she was in the principal’s office. Again.

This time it was to explain a gun that disappeared. That was a new one for her. Usually her trips to the office were concerning missed school or damaged buildings. Never had there ever been a gun involved.

When the principal left the room, a book fell to the floor, and her head snapped around at the sound. The cover said Sunnydale High School 1955. Strange. She picked it up, looked at the cover for a moment, then put it back into the bookshelf. This was too weird.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She knew that staying after school for training yesterday was a bad idea.

She heard the voices in the hallway. She went to the double doors, swinging them partway open, to see the boy, holding a gun on a crying girl, then she was in motion, flinging her body against him and knocking the gun from his hand. But when they looked around for the gun, it was completely gone. Nowhere. She and the janitor looked for an hour, but came up with nothing.

Now, she was plagued by strange visions. In history, she went into one of her patented Buffy dazes, and watched unnoticed as a high school jock and a teacher had a touching moment in an empty classroom. With real touching involved. She snapped out of it in time for the teacher to write a strange phrase across the chalkboard. ‘Don’t walk away from me, bitch’. He erased it quickly, embarrassed by what he’d written, but not quickly enough for Buffy. She realized it was the exact words that she’d heard the one student say to the other, right before the gun came up missing.

She went to the library after class, expecting to find Giles, but the library was empty. She soaked up some of the silence, and waited patiently for her Watcher to return.

While she waited, she pondered on what went wrong with Angel. Angelus now. She knew that she should have never slept with him, but their relationship had been building for so long…she couldn’t not sleep with him, especially on such a special night. Her birthday. She would never celebrate the day again with the same childish glee. It would always remind her of what she had lost and unleashed, at the same time.

Giles finally came into the library from the school proper, and she started, forgetting that she was alone. She told him of the vision of the night before, and the happenings in history class, and Giles mentioned that this could be a haunting. Duh. She even knew that.

She snapped to when Giles explained who he thought it might be. “Giles, that’s impossible. Miss Calendar died here, but it wasn’t from a gunshot wound. This kid had a gun, and when I knocked him down, it disappeared.”

He looked at her sadly, and she almost regretted speaking. Almost. “Buffy, although it seems you’ve put some thought into it, and I always encourage you to challenge me, clearly in this instance, you are wrong and I am right. Now, run along. I have some things to do here.” He turned his back on the three friends, and went back into his office.

Buffy grabbed her books off the table and led Willow and Xander into the hall. She frowned, and pouted. “How come he always gets on my back for not thinking, and the one time I do, I’m wrong?”

Willow made soothing noises, and said, “I don’t think you’re wrong. I think Giles is just so desperate for Miss Calendar to be the ghostie. He misses her a lot.”

Xander piped up around his mouthful of Cheetos, “Yeah, he was really crushing on Miss Calendar. All the meaningful looks and stuff she was tossing his way, I’d say it was mutual. So what’s it mean, Buffy?”

“It means that Giles wants this to be Miss Calendar so badly, he doesn’t want to listen to any other theories. More fallout from my screwed-up love life. So here’s where we have to come up with theories on our own. Let’s go do some research.”

They weren’t in the computer lab searching for very long when Willow let out a low whistle. “Buffy, I think I found something.”

Buffy and Xander craned their heads to look over Willow’s shoulder. “It seems there was a student shot a teacher, here in the school. It all fits. The gun, the Sadie Hawkins dance. But it happened….”

“In 1955.”

Willow whipped her head around, smacking Xander in the face with her hair. “Yes! How did you know?”

She told them about the yearbook falling out of the bookshelf, and they sat staring at her silently. When the silence stretched for too long, she sighed. “Well, let’s make with the research on exorcism. Can’t have ghosts walking the halls of the school. They’re crowded enough as it is.”

That got a smile from Xander and a slight giggle from Willow. “Why are they haunting, do you think?”

Buffy looked at the pictures on the screen of the laptop. “Well, I’d like to think that he regretted it, but there is a definite lack of regret in the scene as it plays out. He still kills her every time. This time, though, they’re possessing other people, and they’re dying too. I think he wanted to avoid prison, and some large guy named Bruno on the chain gang.” She turned away. “Sicko.”

“But Buffy, don’t you think that maybe he’s sorry? Maybe he wants things to be different?”

She faced her friends, her usually open face a stormy mask. “He couldn’t make her love him, so he shot her. Typical male response. I can’t have you, so nobody else will either. Been hearing enough of that tune over the last couple of months, I could sing you the harmonies.” She walked over and gathered up her things. “I’ve got to get home. Will, can you…?”

Willow nodded. “I’ll look up spells and exorcism rites. I’ll prepare everything.”

“Good. Give me a call. I have to spend some time with mom. She’s big with the wiggins since all this stuff with Angel—I mean, Angelus, came down.”

They watched her leave, and Xander exhaled. “Wow. The quality of mercy is not Buffy, is it Will?”

“She’s been through a lot lately, Xander. More than you know.”

“I know. Lots of girl feelings. But still, Will—our little Slayer. She’s a growing up so fast.”

“Too fast, Xander. If things don’t stop happening to her, she’ll implode. You know how Buffy is. She thinks that everything is on her shoulders alone. She needs to know she always has us.”

“Yep. She’ll always have the nerd herd. Wait. That didn’t come out right.”

Willow grabbed her laptop and her books. “I know. I also know the spirit you meant it in, and you’re right. We need to let Buffy know we’re here for her. Meanwhile, we have a haunting to prevent. Catch you later, Xan.”

“Aren’t you going to the Sadie Hawkins dance?”

“No. Didn’t invite anyone. You?”

“Nope. Cordy has it in her head that it’s a nefarious plot invented by feminists that don’t shave their legs. She thinks they are trying to change the natural order of things. By making the girl pay.”

“Oh! Okay. I’ll give you a call later, then. Bye.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Spike rolled through the new digs, completely unimpressed. Nice mansion, but he’d been in nicer, even before his unlife. He followed Dru and the bloody ponce into the garden that rested in the center of the house. Dru was going on and on about the house, and he just couldn’t let it go. Couldn’t let that ponce get all the glory. Wasn’t in his nature.

“Yes, Dru, just a beautiful place. Nice big windows, open ceilings…plenty of places for us to dust in.”

Angelus growled, and kicked the wheelchair, sending him spinning. “Don’t like it, Willy, go find another place. We’ll send a housewarming gift.”

He knew he couldn’t fight back, not yet. Knew to hold his tongue. A hundred years of lessons, he damn well better know. “Didn’t say I didn’t like it, Angelus. Just pointing out it’s obvious drawbacks. And we did have a place, until you thought it was better to torch it.”

“Like I said, Willy, don’t like it, then take a stand. Or not. Gotta roll with the changes. But, you have that down pat, don’t you?” Angelus kicked the wheelchair again, this time sending it skittering back through the door and into the great room. Spike was barely able to keep his balance.

Seeing the peroxided vampire off kilter, Angelus gave Dru one of his scariest smiles. “Come on, my dear. Let’s go grab some dinner.”

Dru wagged her fingers in Spike’s direction. “We’ll bring you home something, darling Spike.”

Spike knew by the look that Angel threw him that would not be happening. “Don’t worry about me, my wicked plum. I’ll get something.”

She didn’t even respond, just turned her back on him and left, on Angelus’ arm.

Deliberately, he rolled his way down the hall of the ground floor to his room. When he was safely locked inside, he stood, and kicked the wheelchair against the door. “Roll with the changes indeed. We’ll roll with the changes. Just as soon as I kill the bloody bint that put me in that sodding chair.” He changed his clothes, and shrugged on his duster, feeling more like himself. “And that, Angelus, would be something at the top of my list.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Since none of them were going to the dance, they met outside the library. They could hear Giles puttering around inside, and decided that maybe, just this once, they could leave him out of the loop.

Willow passed out various items while they all listened with half an ear, since she got windier than Giles sometimes.


“Remember the plan to contact the spirit and talk to it? Scrap
that. Buffy, you were right. The time for touchy-feely communication is passed. I've done some homework and found the only solution is the final solution.”

“Nuke the school?” Xander smiled. “I like that.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “Not quite. Exorcism.”

Cordelia’s eyes bugged. “Are you crazy? I saw that movie! Even the priest died.”

Buffy gritted her teeth, still not so happy about Cordelia being a part of the Scoobies. “What's the deal, Will?”

Willow laid a map down on the floor, and they all gathered to look at it. “See here? The balcony? That’s where the original teacher died back in 1955. That’s considered the hot spot, where all the bad mojo is located. We need to create a Mangus-tripod.”

“A what?” Cordelia’s voice was shrill in the silence.

Willow pointed to the positions as she mapped out her plan. “Okay, one person chants here on the hot spot. And the other three chant in other places around the school forming a triangle. It's supposed to bind the bad spirit and keep it from doing any more harm.

Buffy stood, her candle gripped like a stake in her fist. “Well, I'll take the hot spot. If there's trouble, that's where it'll be.”

Willow nodded, and handed the Slayer the map.

“This ghost, this James guy, is fixating on you, Buffy. The dreams, the yearbook... You sure you can handle it?” Xander didn’t want to face things himself, but he didn’t want Buffy to go alone.

Buffy grinned, only it wasn’t a bright, happy grin. It looked kind of grim. “Well, I'm hoping he'll show. I truly am.”

Buffy turned to them, and looked around. “Okay, we all have our places. We do the chant and light the candle at midnight exactly. Any questions?”

As usual, Cordelia spoke up. “Yeah, what if this mangled triangle thingy doesn't work?

Willow started, wide eyed, and handed them some stringy brown things. “Oh! I almost forgot. I made us all scapulas.”

Xander was feeling the tension, so he had to make a joke. “Okay, so we can flip the ghost over when it turns a nice golden brown?

“Scapula, not spatula. Um, you wear it around your neck for protection.” Willow draped one around Cordelia’s neck as she spoke, and the teenager picked it up and sniffed it suspiciously.

Her nose wrinkled under the scent of rotten eggs. “You expect me to wear this? It smells like grandpa breath.”

Willow looked around apologetically. “Sorry, I didn't have a lot of time. I had to use sulfur. Stinky, but effective.”

Buffy smiled, trying to soften Cordelia’s asinine remark. “Okay, let's do this.”

They all started down the hall toward the student lounge. Cordelia fingered her scapula, shrugging her wiggins off. “Okay. No problem. This will be a piece of cake. Right?”

They heard a creaking, like the whole school was settling into the ground, then a crashing as all the doors started slamming shut in sequence.

“I don’t think cake is exactly right, Cordelia.” Buffy edged forward, pushing on one of the double doors. It gave easily, and didn’t try to chop her in half, so she turned to her fellow exorcists. “I think we can get through this okay. Just…protect yourselves. All right? Places everyone.” She turned, and walked easily through the door toward the balcony area.

Giving each other supportive looks, the other three headed to their spots, nervous, but knowing this was the right thing to do.

Giles spotted Willow as she walked past the library. He stuck his head out of the door, and startled her when he spoke. “What are you doing here?”

“Giles!” Willow looked guilty, for some reason. “What are you doing in here?”

“Well, other than I work here…I’m trying to contact Jenny. I think that I’m getting very close.”

“Oh. Oh, that’s nice.”

He sniffed, and wrinkled his nose. “What are you doing here, and what is that smell?”

“Uh, it’s sulfur. On my scapular.”

“Yes. Effective for protection. But Willow, aren’t you Jewish?”

“Still believe in holy items, Giles. Got crosses on my bedroom walls and everything.”

“I see. So, what did you say you’re doing here?”

Willow snapped under the pressure, and spilled her guts. She didn’t see the look that creeped into Giles’ face. “Oh, well, then, run along. Do what you need to. There may be some paranormal backlash when I do contact Jenny. You don’t want to be in the line of fire.”

She nodded, then ran off to take her place on the staircase. Giles watched her set up, then went back into the library. Could he have blinded himself to other explanations? Somehow, he knew that he was correct in his assumption. Jenny was trying to get through to him from the other side, no matter what the children thought. He went back to work, researching methods of contacting the dead.

Buffy made her way down the hall toward the balcony. Music drifted on the air, but she doubted that it was coming from the dance, which should have been over by now. She came closer to the music room, and the music got louder. Peeking in the door, she saw two shadowy figures dancing in the dim light to an old fifties tune, and somehow knew that it was the ghosts.

She looked at the flyer taped to the door, and saw the date on it. Nineteen fifty-five. Definitely the ghosts she was looking for. Passing the doorway, she headed out to her place on the balcony, and looked at her watch, waiting for midnight.

At precisely midnight, they all started trying to light their candles, but unseen winds and drafts blew their lighters out. Willow cupped her hand around the wick, and finally succeeded, only to find she was being sucked down into the staircase, the floor beneath her changing to quicksand. She struggled, and sank even farther, finally yelling for the only one close by enough to help her. “Giles! Help me!”

Giles ran, and pulled her out of the sucking floor. She clung to him, shaking, and wondered about the fate of the other three.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Xander sat cross-legged on top of a table in the cafeteria. There were snakes everywhere in the room, atop every flat surface, and he cringed at the thought of one of them touching him. He hated snakes. Hated snakes, to the point of avoiding the reptile house at the zoo. Slimy creatures. He tried repeatedly to light the candle he held in his hand, and the flame flickered and blew out before he had it close to the candlewick. He tried repeatedly, until the lighter burned his hand. He blew on his fingers and shook them, dropping the lighter to the floor in the process.

“Aw, dammit.” He put the candle on the table, and climbed off his safe perch. Reaching down between coils, he almost had the lighter in his grip with a heavy object fell from the ceiling. He turned his head, guts churning, and found himself eye to eye with a constrictor.

His girlish scream echoed in the hallways.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Cordelia stood in the girl’s bathroom, one of her favorite places. Okay, not so favorite, with the strange things going on. She leaned forward to check on her makeup before she lit the candle…she really did look great in candlelight, she thought. In any light. Her face close to the mirror, she checked out something on her cheek, and was horrified to see it grow and fester before her eyes. Her skin started sloughing, and she could see bone beneath the rotting flesh. She opened her mouth, and her scream popped her jawbone out of the socket as it echoed through the now-empty school.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Buffy expected the worst, and of course, she got it. In spades.

The door opened behind her, and she watched the whole scene unfold, the ghosts playing it out this time.

The teacher, Mrs. Newman, ran out into the hallway. The ghost of James, the student, closely followed her. Their voices were clear in the deserted hallway.

“Stop!” His voice was thick with unshed tears, and Buffy could feel the tension filling the air, making it hard for her to breathe.

Mrs. Newman turned, and faced the agitated student. “James, just calm down.”

He pointed the gun at her, his hand shaking badly. The gun fired, and he looked on in disbelief when she clutched her chest, blood seeping between her fingers. She extended her hand to him, her mouth moving soundlessly, then fell off the balcony onto the stairs below.

Buffy jumped back out of the way, and looked down to see an empty staircase. She stepped forward far enough to see James walk into the empty music room, with the eerie music echoing through the hall, and heard the report of another gunshot.

Major wiggins. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Don’t priests do this anyway? She went down the hall searching for the others.

She found them, standing with Giles in front of the double doors leading to the library. “Okay, major wiggins here. Like, double wiggins? I just watched the whole thing happen again. This time, it was the teacher and student.”

“Another teacher has been killed?” Giles removed his glasses, but stopped before he cleaned them.

“No, Giles, and as much as you want to believe this is Miss Calendar, it isn’t.”

“She would never be this mean!” Willow said, panting.

“Yes, I’m afraid you’re both right.” He did clean his glasses now. “But then who is it?”

Willow started to tell Giles about the 1955 murder, and a loud buzzing filled the silence. “What is that?” she said, looking at her best sources of information, Giles and Buffy.

Giles looked down the hall, and started pulling the girls behind him, walking quickly, and then breaking out into a run as the wasps filled the corridor. They were met at a junction by Xander, who smelled peculiar, and Cordelia, who couldn’t seem to keep her hands off her face. They ran to the closed exit doors and pushed against them, finding them locked.

Buffy reared back, and brought her leg up in a powerful kick, busting the doors open, and they ran out into the night. She turned at the sidewalk, her lungs bursting, and they saw the blanket of wasps descend to cover the school.

Xander swatted at a couple of wasps from the edge that were attracted by his scent. “We gotta get out of here.”

“Yeah. We gotta get out of here, now. Back to my house, folks, and we’ll regroup.” Buffy turned and led them down the sidewalk, toward the house on Revello.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Xander took a quick detour home, and wouldn’t explain why. They all sat around Buffy’s living room, feeling confused, frightened, and impotent. Giles poured himself some tea, and spoke quietly. “Well, the good news is, none of you girls were shot.”

“Yeah. Good. So, what’s the plan?” Buffy stood away from the wall she leaned on, and grabbed a cup of coffee from the pot on the coffee table. “How do we get rid of these pesky things?”

“The exorcism rite should have worked!” Willow was visibly upset. “If we could have got it going….” she finished lamely.

“Yeah, but getting it going was the trick. My candle wouldn’t stay lit,” Cordelia added.

“I didn’t even get the chance to try and light mine.” Buffy sipped her coffee, and said, “I saw the instant replay, and then the wasps. I ran.”

“You ran, Buffy?” Giles almost sounded amused.

“I ran. Wasps and Buffy are un-mixy things. They sting. I’m Chosen to fight vampires, not bugs.” She pouted, and watched his amusement fade. “What does this James want, anyway? Why stick around?”

Giles cleaned his glasses, and looked up at the group. “I guess, ah, James, is looking for closure. That is usually the reason behind hauntings, at least. Some kind of closure for deeds undone, resolutions to issues that he wasn’t able to, ah, resolve while he was alive. Perhaps…forgiveness?”

“Forgiveness?” Buffy snorted. “He killed the woman he said he loved in a fit of blind passion. He wants forgiveness for that? That’s not something you forgive. No matter why he did what he did. And no matter if he knows now that it was wrong and selfish and stupid, it is just something he's gonna have to live with.”

Xander spoke from behind her. “He can’t live with it, Buffy. He’s dead.”

She looked around at her friends, then stalked off into the kitchen.

“Wow. Overidentify much?” Cordelia’s voice grated on Willow’s nerves, and she turned to defend her friend.

“She’s feeling really sensitive right now over the things that Angel…I mean, Angelus, has done. You know that, Cordelia.”

“Yeah, but it’s not all about her. Although she thinks that it is.”

Buffy listened with half an ear to Cordelia ranting in the kitchen, shoving her hands in her pockets. A piece of paper crackled under her fist, and she withdrew a flyer for the Sadie Hawkins dance held in 1955. “Okay, James, if you want me, you’ve got me. You may not like what you get.”

She slipped out the back door, and made her way back to the school.

When she stood in front of the wasp wall, she said aloud, “If you want me in there, you gotta move the bugs, ‘cause there is no way I’m walking through that.”

The wasps parted for her to enter, then closed behind her, closing the world out.

Spike stalked the now-familiar corridors of the school. It felt good to be on his own two feet again. “Slayer,” he called softly, his voice echoing in the dimness. “Come play with me, Slayer.”

He turned the corner, and she stood in front of the trophy case, alone and seemingly deep in thought. “Slayer. D’ya wanna play, love?”

She spun on her heels, and advanced on him. “You shouldn’t be here, Spike. Didn’t you see the big waspy keep out sign?” She laughed, but it was brittle with her sarcasm.

He circled her, examining her all around. “You know, funny thing about wasps, pet. They don’t seem to have a taste for dead flesh. Maybe that’s how you’ll get out.”

She didn’t answer, just kept looking blindly at the floor. “You know, pet…” he started, but something took over his vocal cords. The next words out of his mouth shocked him to his undead core. “You know, you’re the only one. The only person that I can talk to.”

She didn’t answer, but he could see tears forming in her eyes. What the bloody hell? “You can’t just make me disappear, pretending I’m not here, just by saying that it’s over.”

Why was he saying this bleeding heart shite? What the sodding hell was wrong with him?

She turned her tear-stained face to him, and smiled sadly. “Actually, I can.” She stepped closer to him. “I just wanted you to be able to have a normal life. We can never have that, don’t you see?”

Feelings rushed through them both, and Spike felt tears forming in his own eyes. “I don’t give a damn about a normal life. I’m going crazy not seeing you. I think about you every bleedin’ minute.”

Buffy raised her hand to caress his cheek, lingering in the hollow beneath his sculpted cheekbone. “I know. But it’s over. It has to be.”

He bent his head, pressing his cheek against her warm palm. She rubbed her thumb over the knife-like projection of his cheekbone, and turned to walk away.

He reached, and snagged her sleeve. Spinning her around, he grabbed her with both arms, shaking her with every word that dropped from his lips. “Come back here! We aren’t done here.” He buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent. “You don’t care about me anymore, it that it?”

Silent tears turned to sobs, and she clutched at him, burying her face in his duster. “It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter what I feel.”

He shook her again, and spat at her, “Then tell me you don’t love me. Tell me!”

She looked up at him, and thought how real this felt to her right now. How right. To look into those blue eyes, and tell him the hard truths of life, right here and now. “I don’t. Is that what you need to hear? Does that make it easier? I don’t love you anymore. Now, let me go.”

His hands fell away from her, and he wanted to curl up inside. Wanted to die. “You don’t wake up one morning and decide that you don’t love someone anymore. That doesn’t happen.” She turned, and started to walk away from him, and Spike reached, extending his arm, and found that he held a gun in his hand. “Love is forever. That’s what you always told me, love is forever. I’m…I’m not afraid to use it,” he said, his hand shaking.

Buffy stared at the gun, wondering how she would come out of this one alive. She pivoted, and started to run, only to hear him pounding the floor behind her.

“Don’ walk away from me, you bleedin’ bitch!”

She turned, her hands in front of her, and tried to placate him. “Now, stop. You know you don’t want to do this.” She edged her way out the open doors to the balcony, and stood by the railing. “Please, don’t do anything that you’ll regret.”

“I won’t regret this.” The gun fired, but he was shaking so badly, the bullet missed.

She felt the bullet whiz by her, and arched backward, trying to get away from it. Losing her balance, she started to fall.

With vampiric speed, Spike was in front of her, grabbing her arm and preventing the tumble she would have taken to the courtyard below.

She expected something from him, some threat or move, but he walked mechanically past her to the corridor. She watched, awestruck, as he made his way into the music room.

The lilting sounds of the haunting melody echoed through the corridor.

My love must be a kind of blind love
I can’t see anyone but you
The moon may be high, but I can’t see a thing in the sky
‘cause I only have eyes for you...

Spike looked in the mirror, surprised to see the reflection of a high-school age boy looking back at him. He watched himself, the tears streaming from his eyes, as he raised the gun to his head, placing the barrel on his temple.

A warm, gentle hand grasped his, and pulled the gun away. He turned to find the Slayer right behind him. Looking back at the mirror, he noticed the Slayer didn’t show in the mirror.

“Don’t do this,” she said, removing the gun and tossing it aside.

“But I killed you.” Spike looked down at her.

“It was an accident. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Oh, it is my fault. How could I? How?”

He dissolved in tears, sobbing against her shoulder. She smoothed her hands across his shoulders. “It’s my fault. You thought I stopped loving you, didn’t you? I never stopped loving you. Not even with my last breath. I loved you and forgave you.”

He hiccuped, trying to stop his sobs. She ran her hand through his hair, loosening his curls. “Ssh…no more of that.”

She raised his face, brushing the tears from his cheeks. “I will always love you.” She raised her face, and pulled him to her.

She caressed his mouth with hers, then licked across his lips to beg for entry. When his lips parted, she swept her tongue inside his mouth, exploring its depths. He met her tongue with his, and redoubled her efforts, deepening their kiss. She felt the hard length of him pressing against her, warm to cool, and snuggled her body closer to his.

Neither of them saw the brilliant lights of souls merging and passing onward as it traveled into the ether. Neither noticed the lack of possession as hands traveled over clothing, discovering soft curves and hard planes.

He was lost in her scent when he finally realized his will was his own. Right now, his will was to shag this girl into the ground. He hunched his cock against her, stiff and aching in his confining jeans, and she finally realized she was herself again. Her eyes flew open to a sea of blue, and he loved the sudden scent of fear that permeated the room. Fear and arousal.

Wait a bleeding minute, he thought, still too caught in the kissing to stop. Arousal? From the Slayer? And she wasn’t putting a halt to the snogging either? He copped a feel of her breast to experiment, and she pulled away from him, breathless.

She stood there, frozen in the circle of his arms, unable to move. Mentally, he shrugged. Couldn’t pass up this opportunity, although it wouldn’t do to kill her. Not after a kiss like that. Not after the feel of her body against him…. Still, she needed a lesson.

His arms tightened, and he swept her hair to the side. He kissed her lips again, then nuzzled down the side of her neck with his tongue, lazily sweeping it across the heated flesh of her neck. He could smell the tang of her blood pumping beneath the skin, the vein in her neck throbbing with the beat of her racing heart. Still she didn’t move.

Her body was throbbing from the kisses, the touches they had shared. She couldn’t move, she was so turned on. She watched him close on her, and knew it was her death, but if she moved, she would explode.

He licked her throat, and she moaned, her head tilting on its own to the side. His tongue was cool against her, and he stroked her with it until she wanted to purr. When he nipped it with blunt teeth, she leaned into him, unconsciously grinding against the bulge in his pants. She heard him growl, and then he struck, his fangs slipping into her, and she saw stars explode in the black behind her eyes as her orgasm slipped past her to rocket through her body.

With each pull of her blood, the feelings intensified, thundering through her until she was gasping for air. Her legs began to tremble, and he reached down and grabbed her thighs, pressing her apex against his crotch and grinding into her. She locked her legs around his waist, and rode her orgasms as he drank her blood.

He didn’t want to drain her; but then again, he wasn’t even close to it. He could only tolerate small sips of her heady nectar, and the flavors of her were almost overwhelming to his enhanced senses. He pulled her body close to him, jerking against her as he came like a schoolboy in his jeans, but felt the shudders of her own release as they rippled through her, and couldn’t feel bad about his release.

He licked his wounds closed, and placed a gentle kiss on the spot. “Let that be a lesson, pet. Don’t go about the school at night alone.”

She shoved out of his arms, horrified at her own behavior. “I…I thought you couldn’t walk!” She gasped, eager to direct his attention away from her.

“Appearances can be deceiving, pet. And what Angelus doesn’t know, doesn’t hurt him. Now, you wouldn’t be running and telling on me, would you?”

She shook her head numbly. “You…you bit me, and didn’t kill me.”

“Not a fair fight, pet. Not fair at all, not with you wanting it so bad. Could smell it, sunshine. Nope, when I kill you, Slayer, I’ll have beaten you fair and square. Least you deserve.”

“Deserve?” She almost wanted to laugh. “Why don’t we see whose hand the victory ends up in?”

“You gotta want to win, Slayer. And pray tell—if my bite made you come that hard this time, don’t you find yourself wondering what it would feel like to come to death?”

He laughed at the expression on her face, and she threw a chair across the room. “Not funny, fang-face. Not a word of this, ever. Understand?”

“Same here, Slayer. Wouldn’t do for my blokes to find out that I was crying like some poncy wanker.”

She looked at him warily, then took a step and punched him in the nose. “That’s for groping my boob, you pervert!”

He laughed again, licking blood off his lip and hand. “Should I punch you for grabbing my cock, pet?”

She drew back to punch him again, and he grabbed her fist and her waist at the same time. “You’ll get a rematch, pet, but not tonight. Got to beat the wanker and my princess home.” He kissed her with his bloodstained mouth, and pushed her backward onto the floor. “Ta.”

With a swish, he was gone.

Buffy picked herself up off the floor, then looked at the mirror. Good, her shirt would hide the marks. She would have to remember, didn’t want Giles going all wiggy and asking a lot of questions. It would mortify her if he found out…. No, no thinking of that. That was a side effect of the possession. Right. She would have to talk to Willow.

She found her faithful Scoobies in the library, waiting for her. Taking the tea Giles handed her, she sipped from the mug as she listened to how the wasps and snakes had just disappeared from the premises.

She realized Giles was talking to her. “Huh?”

“I said, what did you do to appease the spirits?”

“Oh, we had to act it out. Then they were able to apologize, and they went on to—wherever spirits go. Heaven?” She wrinkled her nose. “You guys know more about the planes and dimensions and warps and all that than I do.”

“Buffy, we’re talking the afterlife here, not Star Trek.” Xander leaned back in his chair. “So where did they go, G-man?”

“Do not butcher my name like that, Xander. Buffy, you said we? Who was the other?”

Oh, the question that she’d dreaded. “Spike.”

“Spike!” Giles’ alarm spread through the room. “He didn’t…hurt you?”

She put her hand to her throat, and the light touch sent a tingle through her body. “Not…really.”

“Buffy, really, if he did anything, you must tell me, so I can put it in my diary.”

She pouted. “We did what had to be done to send the spirits away.” She grabbed her jacket, and headed to the door of the library. “See you tomorrow, Giles. I’m done for tonight.”

She didn’t hear or care whether he returned her goodbye. She went straight home to lay in her bed, awake, touching the marks on her neck every so often for the jolt through her body that brought a secret smile to her lips.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Spike barely made it back to the mansion. He threw some cologne on, and sat down in his chair when his bedroom door was busted open by a pair of intoxicated vampires. Angelus stumbled to the bed and threw himself down, pulling Dru down on top of him. “Spike, my boy, too bad you couldn’t come with us. We had ourselves some real sport, didn’t we, princess?”

Drusilla was pouting. “Willy’s been out in the sunshine, he has. Reeks of it. Don’t you, Willy?”

“Don’t know what you’re blathering about, Dru. Can’t go into the sunshine, I’ll burn.” God, did nothing cover up Slayer musk?

“Burning for the sunshine, my Willy’s burning for the sunshine. And he shall have no cakes for burning, shall he Daddy?”

Angelus leaned closer to his childe, and sniffed expectantly. “You do smell different, Spike. I know! You bathed—finally.”

“Yes, Angelus, I bathed while you were out. And I was preparing for bed, if I could?”

“Nothing else for you to do, is there, William? Bathe and lounge and read. You should enjoy that, do you?” Angelus threw a dark look at Dru, who stood behind Spike, crying shrilly.

“Not my preference anymore, but until I heal, that’s all I can do.”

“Make certain that’s all you do, Roller Boy. Keep your nose out of my affairs.” Angelus grabbed Drusilla by the wrist, ignoring her keening, and dragged her behind him out the door. Spike heard the snick of the lock after the door closed, and he stood up from the chair, hurrying to change his pants. Wouldn’t do to find he’d been out.

He stretched out on the bed, one arm propping his head up. Well, so he made the Slayer hot. Something to remember and keep in his arsenal.

He started to plan how he would shag her senseless and drain her dry. The thought made him smile.



Email: artemis_1982@hotmail.com
Seasons: season 2


Challenge: 82

Set during the episode "I Only Have Eyes For You," instead of Angelus and Buffy as the lovers, it is Spike (since he can walk by this time) and Buffy.

Must haves:
Spike is playing the student while Buffy is the teacher (opposite of what the episode had happen)

Spike realizing what he has done and attempts to save Buffy instead of offing himself. Buffy survives, how Spike does this is up to the author.

Can haves:
Xander trying to get into the school and getting attacked by wasps.

Can't haves:
Any descriptions of Dru/Angelus romance