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.


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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.”

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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.

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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.

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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