Never Ever Tell by Lilachigh


Chp 29 Toes


“Buffy! You have to talk to him. He tried to commit suicide by staking himself.” Willow’s voice on the phone was concerned. She felt sorry for Spike. OK, they had history – what with the trying to kill her and terrifying her rigid on several occasions – but she also had a strange sympathy for someone whose whole life had changed so drastically that he couldn’t quite cope with it.

Her own life was so odd, so different to what she’d imagined it would be even a few months ago. The agony of losing Oz and all the new feelings she was experiencing – well – OK, not go there, but hey, Spike –

“What do you want me to say?” Buffy replied impatiently. “Don’t dust yourself, Spike, we all love you!”

“No, of course not! Don’t be silly. How could you ever love him? Vampire, evil, and not Angel, no soul, I do still realise that. But Buffy, it was like watching a trapped animal trying to gnaw off its own paw, trying to escape.’

“Eewww with the bloody pictures, Will. OK, if I ever see Spike chewing his toes, I promise I’ll try and stop him.”

She hung up the phone at last and decided to go to bed. But she didn’t feel tired. She felt irritable and tense, the blood humming through her veins like quicksilver. And it was all Spike’s fault. She wanted to think about Riley, not worry about the chipped vamp and his toes!

Silly things, toes! Everyone had them; you just didn’t ever consider them. Wondering if Spike painted his toe nails black like his fingernails was just a waste of time. Anyway, he didn‘t. Jeez, how did she know that? When had she ever seen his toes?

From nowhere came a ridiculous thought – she’d read once that the Duchess of York had been caught on camera sucking her lover’s toes. Eewww, she couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to suck hers and as for putting a man’s foot anywhere near her mouth –

But there are other parts you can suck, said a smug voice in her head and the memory of her and Spike in the dark outside Giles’ house during Willow’s silly spell came burning into her brain.

Ten minutes later she was running through a graveyard, grateful for the wind cold on her burning face. A vamp lurched into her path, fangs gleaming in the moonlight and she staked him without breaking stride.

Oh, god, yes, this was what she needed. Something to ease the tension from her body, drive the memories of toes and – well, memories of toes! out of her head. She would think of her boyfriend, think of Riley Finn.

She wondered if they would ever – well, they were both adults and OK, it wouldn’t be the same as Angel, but hey, no soul losing problems so that was a big goodie.

The hairs of the back of her neck twisted in a special fashion that told her one thing. Vampire! And not any vamp – Spike!

She spun to a halt. He was sitting cross-legged on top of a gravestone. Xander‘s dreadful Hawaiian clothes had gone and he was back wearing his normal denim and leather. And his boots, covering his toes, she thought with a silent giggle.

“Having a little work out, are we, Slayer? What’s up, lots of little aches and itches and no one to scratch them?”

Buffy twirled the stake in her hand like a baton, and then offered it to him. “Hey, Spike. Wanna borrow this? I hear from Willow that you wanted to end it all, that you’re at last weary of hanging around Sunnydale like some big…big…”

She fought to find the word she wanted, hindered by the raised eyebrow and sardonic grin facing her. “Big exbad,” she came out with weakly.

Spike shrugged. “So I was a little depressed. A little sympathy wouldn’t come amiss. You should try living in the whelp’s basement, Slayer. I’ve known cleaner slime demons’ nests than that. God, I found a plate of pizza pushed under his bed that had bred a whole generation of maggots. My new crypt might be a bit bare, but at least it doesn’t have livestock!”

Buffy stared. “You’ve left Xander’s? You’re living in a crypt?”

Spike jerked his head behind him to where the big studded door of a vast crypt loomed. “Like to come in for a little look around, pet? I could give you the guided tour, eating areas, sleeping arrangements - ” he said with a leer.

“Don’t call me pet,” Buffy said automatically.” And no, I have absolutely no desire to see where you’re spending your boring life, Spike.”

The cobalt blue eyes gleamed in the moonlight. “Oh, I don’t think it’s boring, Slayer. Didn‘t your little friends tell you I can kill demons now? The chip in my bonce doesn’t work except for soddin’ humans.”

“That’ll make you popular down at Willie’s Bar,” Buffy said dryly.

Spike uncurled his legs, leant back on his hands and tapped his boots together. “Now, now, Slayer. Sarcasm doesn’t become you. I know what a rotten social life you lead, so if I had any dosh I’d offer to take you to Willie’s for a drink, but I’m skint and I don’t want you treading on everyone‘s toes down there, anyway.”

“I don’t tread on toes,” Buffy snapped. “I don‘t do anything to toes,” she added without thinking.

Spike cocked his head to one side and gazed at the golden hair and green eyes that invaded his dreams on far too regular a basis. His eyes narrowed as a memory - or was it a dream? - zipped across his mind.

The dark outside Giles’s house, hands tugging, pulling, tearing at clothes, boots flying, bare skin, hands everywhere, teeth and fangs, and a hot little mouth that explored every part of his body – including his toes – ending up sucking his cock until he spurted helplessly, licked clean by a tongue that gave him no respite until he flipped her over and -

Buffy watched the memory she was fighting to suppress dawn on Spike’s face and felt the colour flood into her cheeks. How could she read his mind she didn’t know, but she could.

“Stop it!” she hissed.

Spike leapt off the gravestone and with two swift strides was in front of her, taking all her air, the smell of leather and cigarettes and blood making her head swim.

His hand shot out and grasped her chin, tipping her face up to his. For a long second she thought he was going to kiss her and she tensed, but to her shame didn’t push him away.

Spike stared down into her eyes. She would never back down, he knew that. She was the bravest person he’d ever met and he hated her, every inch of her. And, oh god, he wanted to fuck her so bad he ached. And that was so wrong it was bloody ridiculous. He wanted to tell her – what?

The words in his brain were, ‘Get a life, Slayer!’ but what came out in a hoarse whisper was, “We can’t ever stop it!”


To be continued