Chp 4 Foes and Funding
Never Ever Tell by Lilachigh
Meeting 14 Foes and Funding
“That’s it Giles - I’ve had it for tonight! If there are more vamps around, then they can have a get out of jail free card!” Buffy slumped down against a gravestone and stared round the cemetery. This one was heavily wooded with steep slopes leading up to the roadway. She and Giles had been patrolling all evening and had dispatched seven vamps and two demons.
“Can you sense more of them?” Rupert Giles sank down on the grass next to her. If Buffy was exhausted, he was shattered, trying to keep up.
Buffy lifted her head, pushed back her hair and scented the air. Oh no, she groaned inwardly. Not him! Not tonight. Whenever most vampires were around, she could sense them, but she couldn’t pick out individuals. Even Angel had just been ‘vampire’ to her.
But the scent of William the Bloody seemed to have got into her nerve endings in some weird way. She could almost taste it. A weird combination - leather, cigarettes, whisky and - she mentally shook her head - man! She always knew when he was around. And he was here again tonight. Perhaps if she just ignored him, he’d go away, because she knew she was too tired to fight him.
“Might just be the scent from the dust they left behind floating in the air,” she said vaguely in reply to her Watcher’s question.
‘Perhaps we should get some more help with the patrolling,” Giles said. “We do seem to have demons jumping out of the woodwork - or rather out of the grass - lately.”
“Help? What a lovely word. Hey, Giles, do you think if we asked, the Council would pay for me to have a couple of full time assistants? Proper trained ones, not just Xander and Willow when they aren’t busy.”
It was a flippant remark, made to take her mind off the fact that Spike was standing behind the crypt to her left and she wanted to ignore him. To her surprise, Giles took what she was saying seriously. “Paid help? Well, I don’t think it’s ever been done before, Buffy, but - ” He took off his glasses and cleaned them with his tie. “I can’t see any harm in asking.”
Buffy swung round to look at him. “Really?”
“Well, the Council always have certain intrinsic contingency funds set aside to facilitate the emergence of axiomatic stipulations.”
“Giles - I know we are two counties separated by one language, but at the moment I am a whole universe away from knowing what you just said.”
She dusted her hands together sharply, so Giles couldn’t hear the sarcastic, “Why not buy a soddin’ dictionary, then, Slayer!” that came from behind the crypt.
Giles smiled. “Yes, there is money available if the Council think it is needed, Buffy. Funding might well be your short term answer.”
Buffy jumped up and pulled Giles to his feet. “Yes,” she said loudly. “Money, funding, cash. Then any vampire who was stupid enough to lurk around Sunnydale would need to start worrying in case he got exactly what he deserved!”
She linked arms with Giles and headed for home, a little smile playing round her lips. Game, set and match to her! Neither of them saw the dark Commando type figures making their way through the trees.
Neither did Spike!
Meeting 15 All Tied Up
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Buffy couldn’t sleep. She’d crashed out in Giles’s spare bedroom after the Thanksgiving dinner and the battle with the Indians. Willow, Xander and Anya had left, clutching large foil wrapped parcels of leftovers. Giles had gone to bed carrying a large glass of whisky which he said was purely medicinal.
Buffy crept downstairs in the dark wearing just her knickers and a vast cotton vest that Giles had found for her the night before. She needed a drink of water. Moonlight cut through the windows where the curtains had been left open and she almost leapt out of her skin when a voice said, “What sort of demented fashion statement is that supposed to make, Slayer?”
“What? Spike? Where are you?”
“Where the bleeding hell do you think I am? Still tied to the soddin’ chair sitting at the soddin’ table. You wankers all went to bed and left me here.”
Buffy tiptoed across the room. Her eyes were accustomed to the dark now and she could see her platinum blond enemy glaring at her. “Well, we weren’t going to let you roam around the house while we were asleep, stupid,” she commented dryly.
The sapphire eyes gleamed up at her under dark brows and she found herself wondering, for no good reason, why he had been favoured with such incredibly long lashes. It really was extremely unfair. “I need a drink of water,” she said.
“I need a drink of blood.”
“Well, you’re going to have to wait until tomorrow. We’ll get you some pig’s blood from the butcher.”
“That or starve, Spike. You decide.”
“Can I at least have a beer since you’re up. And there might be some of those cheesy little snack things left - if Xander didn’t pig out on them.”
“What? No you can’t,” she whispered. “This isn’t some sort of party.” She flounced out into the kitchen, gulped down a glass of water, then hesitated and cursing under her breath, opened the fridge and found a can of beer. Popping the top, the walked back and held it in front of Spike’s face. “There! Now will you shut up.”
“Oh right, and just how the bloody hell do you expect me to drink it, Slayer? Can’t you untie me for a second or two?”
“In your dreams!”
Spike raised an eyebrow at her and nodded. “Well, you’re showing me so much of your body that my dreams will probably be nightmares, Goldilocks.”
Buffy glanced down and gave a little yelp. Giles’ vest, sagging from much washing, had slid down and one round breast and rosy nipple were exposed. She hauled the top up and glared at Spike, daring him to say any more.
She thrust the beer can to his lips, tipped it up and his muscular throat rippled as he swallowed convulsively to stop choking. She giggled as she finally took the can away.
“What’s so funny - apart from ice cold beer which is an abomination only you Yanks could invent. Haven’t you even heard of real ale?”
“You’ve got a frothy white moustache, Spike. It sort of suits you.”
Spike ran his tongue across his top lip and she watched, fascinated, as the foam vanished. His tongue came out again and the tip worked its way across his lower lip. Buffy couldn’t tear her gaze from the glistening softness. Her breath shortened and she knew she was standing too close to the vampire and her vest had slipped again and -
The moon vanished behind a cloud and the room plunged into darkness. All she could see was the gleam from his eyes and that mouth, that tongue - the cold, clever tip circling her nipple, then the rough flat part licking the hard rosy bud, once, twice - then -
The stairs creaked violently as Buffy raced up them to the safety of Giles’ spare room. But although she couldn’t sleep, she would tell herself all next day that she’d been dreaming, that she certainly hadn’t let Spike kiss her breast and that the flood of hot moisture that had soaked her panties had been a figment of her vivid imagination fueled by too much brandy in the sauce.
Tied to the chair, Spike slept with a smile on his face and woke in the morning - wondering.
Meeting 16 Agony Aunt
The Greyhound bus from L.A. had been delayed getting back to Sunnydale. Buffy was dog tired. She needed a shower and bed and then probably another shower, she decided. She wondered if she ought to do a quick patrol before she went home. Her trip to see Angel had left her feeling miserable. She needed to kill something - quick!
She was cutting across the road when she noticed a light was still on at Giles’s. He must be working late. She sighed. She’d better tell him she was home. She just hoped she wasn’t in for a long lecture about vampire boyfriends.
The front door opened under her hand. When would he ever learn to lock it! She hesitated, as she realised the light she was seeing was from a TV set. She walked to the doorway of the downstairs bathroom and stood, amazed, staring at the sight of Spike, illuminated by the light from the TV screen. The vampire was chained, lying back in the bath, watching the TV which had been poised on a shelf at the end of the tub.
The chains chinked as he moved and the light shone on his brilliant blue gaze as he looked up at her from under those irritatingly long black lashes. “You ought to work on the Slayer stealth bit, pet,” he drawled. “Heard you coming a block away. Smelt you, too. Well, smelt the ponce’s hair gel on you, actually.”
“Shut up, Spike,” Buffy said automatically. “What are you doing in the bath?”
“Playing the soddin’ banjo!” Spike fired back at her, irritated. “What the bloody hell do you think I’m doing, Slayer? Your Watcher decided he wanted me out of the dining-room. At least I can stretch out in the bath. Mind you, could prove difficult when i want to wash. I might need help getting my jeans off. Like to help?”
‘Pig!” Buffy sat on the edge of the tub and stared at him. How on earth had they got to this stage with William the Bloody? It seemed so unfair when Angel couldn’t -
“So how was the Great Irish Wanker?” Spike asked, lying back and tapping his boots together.
“Fine,” Buffy replied shortly.
“Oh, yes, I bet. That’s why you’ve got great dark shadows under your eyes, and a mouth that looks like a prune.”
Buffy resisted the urge to leap up and check in a mirror. “You can’t possibly know what I look like in this light,” she said crossly.
“Vampire vision, sweetheart, remember? So, you don’t want to talk about Liam, then?”
There was a long silence. Buffy did want to talk about Angel, but not to Spike.
Suddenly there was a rattle of chains and a slim, cold finger gently touched hers where they were clenched convulsively round the rim of the bath tub. “If I told you he wasn’t worth one single tear of the many you’ve shed over him, would you feel it necessary to stake me?” came the English voice out of the darkness.
Buffy felt a reluctant smile cross her face and her fists relaxed under the cool stroking motion. “Probably. You know nothing about us and how we feel.”
“Nothing? I know about love, Buffy. And I’ve known Liam for over a hundred years. What’s the old saying, ‘you can choose your friends but not your family.’ He looks inwards the whole time. At what he’s feeling, what he’s doing. His women always, always come second. You’re better out of it. Believe me.”
“You sound like one of those Agony Aunts writing in a trashy magazine! Auntie Spike’s Advice Column. Hey, it could catch on.”
Spike snorted and whisked his finger away. He grinned to himself. He’d achieved what he’d set out to do - make her smile. God knows why! But it really annoyed him that his Sire could make her so unhappy. If anyone was going to upset the Slayer, it should be him. “Let’s face it, Slayer, with your lousy choice of boyfriends, I could write a whole book of advice!”
Buffy jumped up, her dark mood vanishing. Honestly, Spike was so full of it. She didn’t know why she was sitting here in the dark, talking to the evil undead. “Writing a book means using words of more than one syllable,” she said sweetly, and turning, flicked off the TV and swept out of the bathroom, ignoring the vampires roars of ‘Turn it back on!” as she left.
to be continued
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