By The Pricking of My Thumbs...Something Wicked This Way Comes
by Megan & Schehrezade

Chapter 13

Spike yanked his head free from Anne’s firm grasp. Her calloused fingers slid unwillingly from the firm grip she had on his locks. Her lips were pulled away from the heaven that was Spike’s mouth and she moaned at the loss of contact. Lost in the fervour that was their first kiss, the scarred Slayer didn’t notice the looks of shock and surprise that were vying for prime position on his face.

He licked his lips and stared down aghast at the forward little miss whose eyes were still shut; her mouth was softened into a pout. Spike stared down at his hands, the same ones that had cupped Anne’s face as they had kissed. ‘Oh bugger.’ He had kissed Anne; briefly the touch of her lips had been a siren’s call to him and he had succumbed, wanting, no needing something. But it wasn’t her pouting lips he wanted - they hadn’t felt right.

Anne had kissed him, her surrogate big brother. Spike tried not to scream like Xander when someone snagged the last bearclaw out of the donut box, or like Dawn when she spotted a spider in the tub. He took a step backwards, stumbled over a gravestone and went arse over tit.

“Bollocks,” he muttered.

Everything was so very wrong--the kiss. Christ, Anne had kissed him! And what was worse, for a few brief seconds he had reciprocated the embrace.

If he had been a wee bit more indoctrinated in ‘Valley Girl’ speak he’d have shrieked eww and run screaming for the hills, clutching his not so shiney virtue to his chest. As it was he knew that Anne may project a tough girl image, but underneath all the bluster, she was an eighteen-year-old girl in the throes of a crush. He knew all about the cruelties of rejection. Cecily had taught him a harsh lesson that had ended with him impaled on a set of fangs. There was no way he would consciously hurt the girl.

Then again, tripping in his haste to get away - really not the best way to couch his rejection in the gentlest of terms. Spike sprang to his feet the next instant and glanced at Anne. She was licking her lips as her eyes fluttered open. She had an expression of utter bliss on her face that caused him to swallow nervously.

Spike straightened his duster and ran his long fingers through his disheveled hair, trying frantically to calm himself. He desperately scrabbled for the Big Bag image to project and hopefully put off the minx who had tried to polish his tonsils with her tongue.

Something had happened; something was different.

He had never wanted Anne sexually. She was family, like Dawn. He wanted to burst into tears at the horror of it all. But he knew he couldn’t. If he did, then Anne would be destroyed.

Spike felt an ache deep within him. It was fresh and worrying; he hadn’t felt it since Dru.

‘Anne wasn’t the one - it was Buffy… Hang about…Buffy?’

The resurrected slayer had barely registered on his radar when she first returned, but slowly despite himself he had watched her. Seeing her with Dawn—the sweetness shared between the two sisters. Her compassion with her friends, despite everything they had put her through. A Raising wasn’t something to be taken lightly or recovered from swiftly, and yet Buffy had. For that he had respected her, she was far stronger than most. It was that strength that had piqued his interest—that and her luminescent beauty. It had called to him and despite the pain he had been living with for what seemed like an eternity, he’d enjoyed watching her.

Spike gazed down at Anne’s face with deep compassion. He knew what it was like to care for someone and for the object of your affection not to reciprocate. He had to be gentle, let her down easily. He had to make her understand he cared for her but not in that way, and yet at the same time, not let her know how repulsed he was by her fumbled attempt at seduction. Anne was too young and just wasn’t ‘the one’.

No, there was someone else he wanted and he had no idea why or where the feelings had come from. It was as if they had sprung from his heart like Athena had from her father’s head, fully formed. He felt something for Buffy that he had never thought he would’ve ever entertained.

She was a Slayer for God’s sake, but since her return she had been so un-Slayerlike, a veil of sadness cloaked her visage when she looked at him, she was tentative…almost apologetic around him, hurt almost and he had no idea why. He had avoided her as if she had been a Black Maria – and then suddenly in the last few hours he had realised why – he was starting to feel something for her.

For Buffy Anne Summers, Dawn’s big sister. A slightly older carbon copy of the girl who just kissed him with such hope and sweetness

Her sorrow filled hazel eyes were all that filled his mind, the way she watched his every move with a question lingering on her gorgeous lips. A question he wouldn’t allow her to voice, for something inside him deep, deep down wouldn’t allow it. Spike had avoided her like the plague and her frustration at his behaviour had not gone unnoticed. Until recently, he hadn’t cared.

But he felt something had changed within the last few hours, and it freed him. There was lightness to his spirit that he had not felt in a long while. There was nothing chaining his feelings down, or muffling his senses anymore, and it felt great. For the first time in weeks, Spike could feel everything and for once, nothing hurt when he did. He could breathe again.

What he was feeling, though, was starting to clarify in his mind and it was tickling at the edges of his demon’s psyche, making it twitch and rail against the anathema that his host was allowing to bud in his un-beating heart.

They were the wrong lips.

Spike blinked and heaved a sigh.

It was true.

They were lovely lips, but not the ones he wanted pressed against his in a feverous rapture of a kiss.

They weren’t hers - Buffy’s.

Spike’s scarred brow shot upwards and nearly disappeared into his hairline. He wanted Buffy?

Yes, he did! He wanted Buffy to kiss and nibble at his lips, and hopefully more. Spike licked his lips, and mentally reeled at the aftertaste of lip-gloss left on them by Anne.

He looked down at Anne who had, at some point during his ruminations, opened her eyes and was smiling up at him, a sweet hopeful image of teenage first love. Spike had to remind himself that he was evil so that he would be able to nip this in the bud, before it got too out of control. He had let her fumbled flirtations with him slide in the past.

He was unwilling to hurt the usually stoic Slayer still finding her way in her new life and world, not wanting to destroy what little confidence she had despite her bravado masking the truth. She was just a little girl, thrust into the supernatural world without a safety net. He had tried to be that net, but instead had positioned himself in her regard to be her knight in shining armour. Whose lips apparently needed a good polishing.

He had secretly cheered as she had slowly cast off the Slayer guise and allowed the teenage girl to come to the fore. But Spike was now mentally slapping himself; she had done so because of him. ‘Bugger, Bollocks and a Bloody hell for good measure’

His eyes flickered amber and he reached into his pocket, pulled out his cigarettes and lit one. Puffing away, Spike concentrated on the familiar burst of warmth that heralded the first nicotine hit his body craved. The taste of the cigarette erased the cherry sweet flavour of Anne’s lip-gloss in seconds. He sighed in relief.

“Spike?” Anne fidgeted with the hem of her T-Shirt. The kiss had been amazing - more than she had ever dreamed. Spike’s lips, lips of Spike and they were so soft, tender and full. She eyed his mouth and wondered if she should kiss him again.

Then her heart faltered at the look of consternation on Spike’s face; this wasn’t the face of someone who had just enjoyed a kiss with his girl. This was the face of a freaked out man.

“I did it wrong, didn’t I? Not enough tongue, right?” Anne whispered.

Humiliation poured off her slight frame as her face turned a deep crimson; her eyes darted to the left and right, avoiding the frozen vampire standing in front of her. She had never kissed anyone before and had never ever entertained the thought that she would choose a vampire as her first kiss! Until she had been brought over, Anne had fought and killed vampires nightly. Not made friends with them, trained with them or fallen in love with them.

But Spike was hard to resist, with his muscled body, the hair, the bad boy image—which was such a lie. He was as soft as Miracle Whip and then the eyes…the brightest blue she had ever seen. They twinkled in merriment at her all the time and they were perfect. All of him was perfect and now she had messed it all up by not being able to kiss properly.

The magazines she had read and all the shows she had watched had been no use. She should’ve known Spike had loads of experience with the kissing and her fumbled attempt was bound to be so lame he’d be embarrassed for her.

“We could try again?” Anne’s voice wobbled slightly in shock at the words that had escaped from her mouth and she took a hopeful step forward towards her vampire.

Spike was unable to stop himself. He leapt backwards as if he had been scalded. ‘God, it was as if Dawn was trying to snog his face off.’

Anne paused and a chill ran down her spine as realisation dawned. He didn’t want to kiss her. Her hands flew to her lips the scar; she knew that it was ugly and off-putting. 'Oh my God, it was the scar…it had to be…it makes me ugly…’ was all Anne could think. Never before had she hated the damage to her mouth. Until now, it had been her badge of pride. But now Anne hated it; it was a turn off for Spike.

Her eyes prickled; it was a sensation she was not used to. Anne hadn’t cried since the night her Mom had been drained in front of her. Then the dam broke-- great big fat tears poured down her scarlet cheeks and her mouth opened with a sob. It wasn’t a pretty feminine weep, it was a full on snot-filled cry. Anne’s skinny shoulders shook as her hands covered her face and she wailed.

Spike closed his eyes and threw away the half smoked fag with a whimper. He hated when girls cried these days. Once upon a time he would have revelled in the tears of a young girl, and now he was like any other male confronted with a woman crying. He panicked.

“So...so...sorry…I…I…sor…sorry,” Anne hiccupped through her tears. It felt weird to cry after so long, but it also felt so good to let it all out.

Spike edged away and then rocked on his heels, torn between panicked flight and also wanting to stop her tears. He thrust his hands in his duster pockets and gazed compassionately at the blubbering mess—his would-be suitor of moments ago. He ached to comfort Anne, but was hesitant to do so as he didn’t want her to misconstrue his attempts.

“Don’t cry, pet. S’not good for you.” Spike grimaced at his pathetic attempt at comfort. When Dru had thrown a wobbler, he had been adept at calming her in moments. Then again, he doubted Anne would appreciate a pretty girl in a nice dress to eat. Spike shook his head of the naughty images that filtered through it and focused on the moment and Anne. Not pervy, blood soaked thoughts that would have him staked out on an anthill slathered in honey and waiting for sunrise.

“I…ca…can’t stop,” Anne wailed.

Spike crept cautiously forward; his hands reached over and hovered over her frail shoulders and then settled for a brief moment. Anne didn’t respond to the butterfly soft touch, so he sighed and dropped his hands heavily on her shoulders.

“That’s enough, Pet. No more tears; can’t cope with bints weeping. Makes me feel like an arse,” Spike pleaded hopefully. He wasn’t used to Anne being so emotional. Usually she was all business on patrol and when it was the two of them at home, or when Dawn was around, she was more relaxed-- less guarded. Now he had made her cry and also doubt herself, both of which were not good for a Slayer and a friend.

“I’m trying.” Anne sniffled and gazed up with watery tear-filled eyes. She froze; there was something different about Spike, something in his eyes. It was all she needed to see to make her realise once and for all; Spike was a friend, nothing else.

“Oh…” she sighed.

Spike cocked his head in confusion at the sudden change in the weepy girl. The hazel red-rimmed eyes had widened in understanding, and the trembling of her lips had stilled in an instant. “What?”

An age-old wisdom that most women innately have, pushed to the fore in Anne and she realised that Spike was not the one for her. No matter how much she wanted it to be her, it wasn’t. There was someone else in his heart. Sure it hurt, but then again, when had it not? She could be the grown up here, if Spike would let her.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” Anne pointed to his lips, still full and pouty and asking for a nibble. But she ignored them, concentrating on salvaging their friendship. She couldn’t survive if they weren’t friends anymore.

Spike sighed with relief. She was making it easy. For once a woman in his life was making it easy for him. He wondered if the planet had shifted off its axis. He rubbed the back of his head and smiled tentatively, unsure as to how to progress without her blubbering all over him. “It’s okay. I guess you were testing a theory?” He waited a beat and then relief flooded his body as Anne took him up on his easy out.

“Yeah,” she smiled briefly. “Wanted to know what it’d feel like kissing a vamp.” Anne’s voice shook slightly as she lied through her teeth. She decided to brazen it out as best she could after her meltdown, and she hoped that Spike would let her. She didn’t want to lose him as her slay buddy and friend.

“Right.” Spike glanced over her shoulder and sniffed the air; someone familiar had been around recently, but the scent was faded and hard to pinpoint. He looked back down at Anne with a gentle smile. “No more tears or surprise snog attacks?”

Anne nodded. “Who is it you want?”

Spike twitched. He felt like he had been hit on the back of the head with a two by four.

“Buffy? Right?” Anne guessed shrewdly. “That’s why you’re not interested in me in a kissy way?”

Spike twitched again. “Um, no luv. Sorry. You and Dawn are my best mates and it’s not right snogging you. It’s like kissing my sister—” He skirted the Buffy question, hoping that Anne would let it drop. Whatever he was feeling for the older Slayer was new and fresh; he had no idea what it was or where it would lead.

Anne, however, was not going to let him avoid the subject. “Buffy, Right?” she repeated.

Spike growled and began to pace back and forth, muttering under his breath about why the Powers plagued him with all the bossy women of this dimension.

Anne crossed her arms over her chest, all her embarrassment over the ‘kiss’ gone as she watched Spike bitch and moan about women and life in general. This was the snarky sarcastic vamp she had fallen for? She put her fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly to get his attention.

Spike froze mid step and turned his head to look at her.

“Well?” Anne demanded.

Spike’s entire body slumped as he gave in to the inevitable and voiced his recent realisation. “Yeah, it’s Buffy—”

Anne grit her teeth; she could be the big girl here. “Right, so now what?”

“We go home and never talk about anything that happened tonight?” Spike asked hopefully. He knew that was a pipe dream, but it was worth a try.

“Riiiight.” Anne rolled her eyes. “We are going home, but you are sooo gonna talk about it!” she exclaimed.

“You sound like Dawn.” Spike eyed her carefully, searching for signs of tears and found nothing but a determined stare returning his questioning looks.

“Well, I guess I would. So, you and Buffy?” Anne flipped her long braid over her shoulder and braced herself for Spike to start waxing lyrical over the senior slayer. She was raw inside but determined to be the grown up and listen to Spike-- and be his friend. It was better to be his friend than nothing at all.

“I…don’t know…there’s something there, but I don’t get it,” Spike sighed.

“Well, since you’ve barely even acknowledged her presence since Willow and the others brought her back, neither do I. When did it all change?” Anne asked.

“Dunno. A few hours ago? Just realised that thinking about her didn’t hurt and that there was something else to it,” Spike added.

Anne nodded, but didn’t say anything. She was trying to be big about it but she really didn’t need any salt rubbed into the Spike-shaped wound on her heart.

Spike peeked over at his silent companion. “No hard feelings, right? Still mates, Anne?” He fumbled with the right words and internally winced at the less than eloquent attempt at building bridges with Anne.

She sighed and nodded. “Still friends, Spike…still friends…”

~@~@~

Willow dumped Amy on a bus bench, and whispered a spell of invisibility over her supine friend. She had heard vamp Willow moving up the alley and determined to go find and dust her once and for all. Without a backward glance at the now invisible Amy, Willow staggered up the alley to see her leather clad and wounded alter ego disappear into a huge metal double door. A smear of blood was the only hint of her passage.

Taking a deep breath, Willow tiptoed up to the smear and quickly dabbed her grubby shirtsleeve in the rapidly drying crimson fluid. She had something personal of the vampire’s to use to track now. Glancing around, Willow quickly moved to the pile of boxes that were under one of the grimy factory windows. She clambered up, trying to make as little noise as possible; fatigue was pulling at her limbs.

Willow shuffled forward to the windowpane and wiped a small section clean with her shaking fingers. This was the biggest break in their efforts of finding the lair. Ignoring the tremors that wracked her entire body, she peered into the factory and the scene that greeted her horrified eyes made her squeak and back away.

It was too much…

It was disgusting….

~@~@~

Anne and Spike walked up the pathway to the front door unaware of Willow frantically dragging Amy along behind them.

Spike could sense the others all gathered in the front room watching TV. Swinging the door open, he gestured for Anne to precede him. She nodded her thanks. Their easy companionship was slowly returning and she was secretly relieved.

Buffy glared up from her perch on the sofa at the two of them; she straightened and opened her mouth to launch an attack on Anne when Willow staggered in, dropping Amy’s limp form on the Welcome mat.

“Master!” Willow screamed. Her usually green eyes were pitch black and her flame red hair was shot through with black streaks.

Anne hunkered down next to Amy and checked her pulse.

Buffy leapt to her feet and rushed to Willow. She pulled her grimy bloodstained friend into the sitting room and helped her sit down. Willow grasped her hands, sparks of magic trickling harmlessly from her fingertips. “Buffy, help me, please, make it stop!”

Tara pulled Dawn away from Willow; she could smell magic all over her Willow, and was distraught. She placed the teen between her and the shuddering redhead. She couldn’t say a word; seeing Willow in this state was the realisation of her nightmares.

Anya peered at Willow, then glanced up at Spike, a look of understanding flashed between the two of them. 'Rack’ she mouthed at him. Spike’s mouth tightened with anger and he nodded briefly, turning his attention to Willow. He growled.

“What the effing hell have you gotten yourself into now, Red? You reek of dirty magiks-- it’s disgusting.” Spike shifted slightly to stand in-between Tara and Willow, a second buffer for Dawn.

Xander walked into the room from the kitchen carrying snacks and stumbled to a halt at the sight of his oldest female-shaped friend currently going for the Seattle grunge look with a dash of Elvira added into the mix. “Willow?”

Willow gazed up at Xander, latching onto his familiar presence. “Master, factory and ewww…”

With that, Willow passed out cold but carrying the not-so-pleasant mental image of her vampiric counterpart feeding off the bat faced Master of the Aurelian line, while he fed his cock into Andrew’s eager mouth, of all people.

It was an image that, if shared, would have knocked them all out cold. They didn’t know how lucky they were that Willow took the easy way out before sharing.

No idea at all.

To be ocntinued