Chapter 2 – Tough Love

Several weeks later…

She ran home as fast as she could, but her mother was sorting through the mail when Buffy banged through the front door.

“Don’t bother looking through the mail, Buffy. It’s right here,” Joyce said. She held up a slip of paper with a computer printout of Buffy’s college grades.

“Mom, I was really busy this term, what with the extra vampire slayage at the campus and then I cleared out a ryzark demon nest and you know how mean they are, and Giles wanted me to learn about …”

“Please, Buffy. I’m not interested in hearing your excuses. The only vampire you’ve been chasing is Spike.”

Buffy stuck out her lip. She hated when her mother was wise to her. She’d spent way too much time this term at Spike’s crypt, minimum time slaying and no time whatsoever doing homework. Spike was a lot more fun than homework.

Spike was a lot more necessary than homework, too, or patrolling or even seeing her friends. When had that happened?

At first, after the whole control box incident, she saw him once in a while, catching up with him in the cemetery when she went on patrol, which always included a stroll by his crypt. Or, she saw him at the Bronze where he persuaded her to join him in the alley for some tantalizing kissing and groping. She would have danced with him at the Bronze, but Xander always put up a big stink and Willow watched her like a hawk for any signs that the control box experiment had revived itself.

Before long, she found herself going to his crypt to find him and not just for the sex. Spike talked to her, fussed over her, took her fun places and never nagged her for all the things that she was neglecting, like homework or slayage.

Her mother still appeared to be in the mood to discuss Buffy’s grades.

“I thought you liked Spike, Mom.”

“I do like him. He’s a lot more polite than that Angel character and not nearly as old. What I don’t like is paying a huge amount of money for college tuition and getting results like these.” Joyce waved the paper at Buffy.

Buffy went into the kitchen. If she whined about being hungry, her mother might make her something to eat and forget to bark about her lousy grades. She opened the refrigerator and swung on the door while she stared at the contents. Ugh. Nothing but healthy stuff like fruits and vegetables and meat and plain yogurt.

“Isn’t there any pizza, Mom? I’m hungry.” Buffy found a can of Cheezee Whizee in the back of the refrigerator and squirted a gob into her mouth when her mother wasn’t looking.

Mmmm, tasty chemical goodness suspended in a protein base and delivered with aerosol propulsion.

“Close the refrigerator, Buffy, and it won’t work. We’re going to have the Unhappy Mommy Conversation and you’re going to pay attention.”

Buffy sighed. Her mother had been listening to those damn parenting tapes again.

“I’m giving you one chance, young lady, to bring your grades up. I’m not going to pay tuition while you flunk and hang around with your boyfriend. Your school has a new Internet site, so I can review your progress every day, in case you think you can fool around for another six weeks.”

“M-o-o-o-o-m! How am I going to do homework and slay? You know how much time that takes. Slaying, I mean.”

Making time to see Spike was what she really meant.

“Spike will have to manage without you for a few weeks and you’ll have to ask Mr. Giles to handle any pesky ryzark problems that pop up until you improve your grades. Quit squirting Cheezee Whizee in your mouth and help me make dinner. I bought you chocolate cake to eat while you’re studying.”

Buffy kissed her mother’s cheek. “You’re the bestest, Mom.”

***

“Are you sure no one has seen him? What about the hospitals and places like that?”

Aspen Bleuette sat at Detective Halkeran’s desk for the third time that week trying to goad the detective into taking some action about her missing boyfriend. By ‘places like that’ she meant the morgue, a word she couldn’t bring herself to say.

“I’m sorry, Miss, I’ve checked the school, the computer department people, the hospitals and the county morgue. No one saw him after he left the computer lab.”

She bit her lip to keep from crying. Something happened to him, but what?

Halkeran glanced down at his file so he could remember the kid’s name. “Thomas is an adult. The pressure of school gets to people. He went off somewhere to blow off steam and he’ll be back.” Or, not.

“You’ll call me if you hear anything, won’t you?”

“I’ll let you know the minute I hear something. You keep checking back.”

She picked up her school bag and left the police station.

After she was gone, Detective Halkeran tossed the Thomas Lasker file on a stack with the fourteen other missing person cases from the past two weeks, none of whom he expected to find.

***

That evening at Willy’s Place …

“See you one alley and raise you three Siamese short-hairs,” Clem said. He pushed four squirming kittens to the middle of the poker table and sat back looking satisfied.

“Bloody hell.”

Spike pitched his cards down in disgust. He’d lost another two kittens to Clem, the arse end of card players in Sunnydale. They were only a couple of orange-striped alley cats, not even decent black ones, but he shouldn’t have lost them at all.

Wouldn’t have lost those damn cats if his mind hadn’t been stuck on Buffy.

“Too rich for me,” Burt, the newtle demon, said. He rubbed his retractable right horn until it glowed bright orange.

Burt’s twin brother, Jurt, who had also been playing with Spike and Clem, tossed his cards over to Clem. “Guess Burt and me better call it a night. You cleaned us out, Clem.”

They paid off their losings to Clem with three over-the-hill grey and white kittens they’d acquired from the City Pound and snuck out the back door. There was no real need to sneak out of Willy’s, but, as Jurt telepathically reminded his brother, you can’t be too careful in the Slayer’s town. And, there was that rumor about Spike and the Slayer. It seemed impossible, but …

Clem gathered up Burt and Jurt’s grey and whites and Spike’s two orange stripes and tucked his kitten winnings into his basket and secured the lid.

“What’s up, Spike? You never let me beat you at cards. You didn’t even cheat tonight. Are you feeling okay?”

Spike hadn’t been feeling okay for weeks. He hadn’t been feeling okay since Buffy came sashaying into Giles’ bathroom with that bleeding control box and crawled in the bathtub with him. Christ, it didn’t bear thinking about what she’d done that particular afternoon.

He dreamed about Buffy night and day. Without quite realizing what was happening, he’d come to depend on her visits to his crypt, and not only for sex. Buffy could be a pleasant companion, fought like a hellion and didn’t, like most women, talk all the time. Best of all, she never drank up his booze. All of which made him wonder if he wasn’t a little in love with the bint.

Spike leaned back in his chair and balanced on two chair legs. “Clem, did you ever love a girl?”

“I love my mom and my thirty-two sisters and forty-six first cousins, the female ones, and …”

Spike squeezed his eyes shut. Conversations with Clem often drifted astray.

“Not your relatives. Did you ever love a female flapsera demon?”

“Oh, you mean, like my mate. Sure. I love Clarna.”

Clarna. Only a mother flapsera could love the mug on Clem’s wife. But, if Clem said he loved his mate, maybe he could help. Wasn’t like he had any number of male companions he could talk over his current predicament. Spike gritted his teeth and accidentally cut the inside of his mouth with his fangs.

“Owww. I think I’m in love.”

“That’s excellent, Spike. When are you getting married? Am I invited?”

“Who said anything about getting married? Did I say married?”

The abyss of marriage yawned in front of him, darker and more frightening than the Hellmouth. Spike remembered the time he’d been engaged to the Slayer and how stupidly happy he’d been. Well, he wasn’t under any bleeding spell now and not even Buffy was going to put a great wanking ball and chain on him. He shivered.

“I’m the Big Bad in this town and I’m Evil. Can’t be getting married.”

He almost said marriage was for wankers, but he didn’t want to hurt Clem’s feelings. Clem had married Clarna two years ago and already spawned fourteen demon brats of his own. He seemed happy enough, although his ears had lengthened a good two inches from having his spawn hang on them.

Clem chuckled and sipped on his cream soda. “This cream soda is not as bubbly as I like. I’ll have to ask Willy to stock a different brand. Who’s the girl?”

All he needed was for word to get out that he was mooning around over the Slayer and he wouldn’t be able to flash a fang in this damned town. His hard-earned reputation would be destroyed forever.

“You won’t tell anybody?”

“Won’t tell an unsouled.”

Spike checked around the bar to make sure no cheeky vampires were eavesdropping and thumped his chair back to the floor. He leaned forward and lowered his voice so the other vampires in the bar couldn’t hear him.

“You know Buffy?”

“Buffy? The Slayer?” Clem spoke loud enough for everyone in the Hellmouth to hear him.

Willy picked that moment to wipe off their table with his filthy bar rag. Spike vamped his face at Willy and sent him scurrying away.

“Shhhh! Don’t talk so loud. Yeah, the Slayer. She’s the one.”

“I suppose she’s nice enough looking for a human. Her skin’s awfully tight. It must hurt.”

What the hell did Clem know about skin? Buffy’s skin was gold from the sun and hot and smooth under his fingers. Thinking about her skin made his cock stiff. She had him so knotted up, he couldn’t even hold a conversation without wanting to have sex with her. He had to do something about her, besides getting drunk and brawling with a demon or two to work off his frustrations. But, what?

“What should I do about her?”

“I’d take her to a plastic surgeon and see if they could loosen up her skin, put in a few expansion flaps. She’ll need those when she breeds your young. Might improve her mood if her skin wasn’t so shrunk up, too.”

“Young? What are you on about you daft bastard? I’m a vampire.”

“You said you loved her, so there have to be young. You really should look into fixing her skin before she gets in the family way.”

“Forget the skin. What should I do about being in love with her?”

“Oh, sorry. You should get married. That’s what you should do.”

“Hello! Vampire! I can’t get married.”

“Why not?”

Why not! What a bleeding stupid question. Everybody knows vampires don’t get married. Vamps do whatever they want. On the other hand, vampires do whatever the hell they want, so why couldn’t he marry the Slayer, if he wanted to? Nobody could stop him if he decided to hitch up with the Slayer.

He slapped his forehead. What was he thinking? Stick to your principles, man.

“Because - because - it just isn’t done. Vampires never get married. Besides, I can’t exactly set up the little woman in my crypt then, can I?”

“No, I guess you couldn’t.” Clem thought for a minute. “You should get an apartment, then get married.”

This talk with Clem was not going at all the way he’d anticipated. Clem should be giving him some good bachelor advice, like bang her silly until you get tired of her, then blow town.

The problem was he wasn’t tired of her at all. Instead, he needed her more every day – needed to touch her, talk to her, make love to her, bite her, play cards with her. He needed her to be with him all the time and …

Balls.

No, it couldn’t be done. His honor was at stake. His personal code as a Bad Ass Vampire was on the line here. His reputation as the Biggest of the Baddest would be chucked in a victim’s heartbeat if let himself get glued to his girl. No matter what he felt about her, he had to protect his reputation and those of his bloodsucking kind. He would stand firm.

He raised his chin to show his resolve. “Getting married to the Slayer would ruin my reputation.”

“Your reputation is already in tatters. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“What? What the hell are you saying? I’m the Enormous Evil in this town and everybody knows it.” His rep was still solid, even though his fangs had been clipped by the damn buzzkill chip. He’d thrash any vamp in town that said different.

“Everybody knows you have the chip in your head and you can’t bite humans anymore and everybody’s talking about you sleeping with the Slayer.”

A deathly hush fell over the room. Every vamp and demon in the bar turned to stare at Spike. He snarled at Cleotus, a beefy vamp from New York and showed his fangs to the rest before turning back to Clem.

Spike hissed at Clem, “If you knew I was having it off with the Slayer, why’d you act surprised?”

“I had a bet with Willy and some of the boys about whether or not the rumor was true. I got excited because I won.”

“What bet?”

“I bet you would be sleeping with the Slayer before Walpurgisnacht. Jurt and Burt said she’d rip your head off first. Nobody wanted to pay up until they got confirmation from you or the Slayer. Now, I can collect.”

Spike banged his forehead on the sticky table. His unlife was ruined.