Strip Snap

By Lilachigh


Chp 17 Passion Burns

“Right! That’s it! If old mouldy face is back, I’m emigrating.” Xander stared at Willow in appalled horror.

The whole gang, including Dawn, were sitting round the table at the Magic Box early the next day. Reluctantly, Anya had put the Closed notice on the door, but she kept casting longing looks at the customers who peered inside, then went away.

“I don’t see why we can’t talk about this and take money at the same time,” she snapped at Buffy. “Commerce is the life blood of the nation and mine is draining away with every second that door remains shut.”

Willow glared at her. “We’ve got to come up with a plan. If it is The Master who’s been resurrected, then – well, we all know what happened last time.”

Dawn edged a little closer to William. “I wasn’t here then,” she said softly. “Well, in my memory I was. I can remember sitting on the porch, eavesdropping on everyone talking about The Master. But I wasn’t really here at all.”

William considered her gravely. He’d had a brief history of Dawn – The Key - from Buffy, but it was still a difficult aspect of his new life to take seriously. “I can understand, Dawn. I have a memory of him, as well. He seems familiar to me, although I know I’ve never met him.”

Willow looked up sharply. “But in a way, you have. Spike is one of his great great – goodness knows how many times great – grandchildren. I don’t know if they ever met. I don’t think I ever discussed The Master with him. But he probably had some sort of family memory in his brain. Perhaps that’s what you can feel. It’s very interesting.”

Buffy pushed her chair back with a screech. “Interesting isn ’t the word I would use, Will. If The Master is back, then I have to find him and kill him, before he starts the whole Harvesting thingy all over again.”

Xander had been staring at one of Willow’s notebooks where she’d scribbled down the charm that was to restore Spike to William’s body. “So, we’ve had the demon fire. We think The Old Returns refers to The Master, so the next line is Love Alone can break the Thrall – passion burns. ”

He stared round at the others. “What Love? What Thrall? What Passion? All useful contributions gratefully received. Don’t all rush. First come first served.”

“We’re still not sure that the charm has anything to do with The Master,” Willow said.

“Dawn needs to go to school, Anya needs to open the Magic Box, Xander has to go to work and I need to find The Master,” Buffy said standing up abruptly. She didn‘t want any more discussion about the charm. Every time she looked at William, memories of what they’d done together rushed back into her brain.

That last time in the graveyard, the pounding, mind-blowing sex – he’d stayed as William. Spike hadn’t flickered back into reality, not even when he’d – Well, not even then! And the sex had been different, too. It was as if she had no control over what she did. Her brain had been telling her not to do it, but her body had continued, regardless.

She was aware that a damp heat was beginning to form between her legs and wished she’d worn jeans and not the summery lavender dress she’d pulled on that morning.

She flashed William a swift glance, then glared at him. He was leaning back in his chair, staring sat her, his gaze demanding, intrusive. One hand was gripping the waistband of his jeans and the fingers were splayed out, almost as if he was trying to touch -

Buffy knew instantly that he’d scented her arousal, that like Spike, he knew exactly what she wanted and was willing and eager to give it to her.

She bit her lip, hating herself for needing him so much, hating him for – well, she just hated him!

“Buffy, you can’t face The Master on your own,” Willow was saying pedantically. “You’ll need back up.”

Buffy shook her head. “No, Will. Not this time. I’m not sixteen any more. I know a good deal more about dealing with vampires than I did then.”

Willow shot her a meaningful look and nodded once to where Dawn was sitting silently, scribbling on a notepad, her hair falling forward to cover her cheeks

Buffy sighed. They were back to protecting Dawn again. “Look, I just want to find where he is. OK? I promise you, Dawnie, if the situation looks too dangerous, I’ll come back and report and we’ll think again.”

“I think I should accompany you, Buffy,” William said. “I might be able to assist you in some small way. Indeed, I believe I ‘helped’ last night in the cemetery, did I not?” He leant back, stretching his arms above his head, the muscles on his chest pulling the black T-shirt tight, but his blue gaze never left her face and his eyes were telling her of all the unspeakable things he wanted to do to “assist” her.

Buffy nodded, unable to find the words she needed to speak. This was ridiculous! She was behaving like a slut. But, oh god, how she wanted him. And this was William, not Spike. What was making her behave like this?
Could you get addicted to sex? Was it like Willow and her magic, Anya and her love of money, or Mr Harris with his drinking?

“Where will you look?” Xander asked.

She struggled to bring her mind back to the problem. “Somewhere deep, dark and disgusting. If he’s here in Sunnydale, he’ll be close to the Hellmouth. William, we need to head back to the cemetery where we were last night: to that crypt where we saw the demon fire.”

Xander stood up. “Come on, Dawnie. I’ll give you a ride to school.”

Anya leapt to her feet and scurried across to the front door. “And I can open the shop immediately for business. A service industry such as this has to be available for people’s needs.”

Willow opened up a vast black bound volume and began flicking the pages. “I’ll keep on with the demon fire research, Buff. I know I’ve seen a reference to it somewhere. I just can’t find it.” She frowned. She had the feeling that she’d seen it somewhere odd, somewhere unexpected, but she couldn’t quite remember. “Anyway, good hunting, and be careful!”

Buffy hardly heard her friends; all she was aware of was William being close behind her as they went down into the basement and started along the tunnel system she knew so well.

She was scared, not of the dark, or of her inevitable meeting with The Master; no, she was shaking because her mind and body were roaring with an unquenchable desire. Suddenly, in the dark, a hand touched her elbow and she stopped, but refused to turn round.

The dark closed over her like a cloak as, without a word, she felt him lift her skirt up over her hips. A finger ran down between the cheeks of her backside and she felt a fleeting wash of shame because she realised now that she’d deliberately not worn any panties that morning. She spread her legs, bracing her hands against the walls of the tunnel.

This was insanity. She couldn’t, shouldn’t, be doing this.

Why wouldn’t he speak? Why couldn’t she say something – anything – like stop, don’t do that, I don’t want you to touch me there, you’re not Spike, I don’t love you –
- why were the words she heard in her head, “oh god, yes,
oh please, please, touch me, I need you inside, oh god, oh god, yesssss.”

Then it was over and she was stumbling away from him, down the passage, shaking and cold, and all she could hear was the crunch of his boots on the stony ground and the thundering of her heart,

“Buffy!” His voice was hoarse, grating through the dark. She stopped, trying to catch her breath.

“What do you want, William? More of the same? ” The bitterness in her tone dropped like acid between them, eating away at any rapport they might have built over the last few days.

“I don’t…. I don’t understand what is happening to me.” The vampire sounded puzzled, almost – and this was a ridiculous word to use where he was concerned – scared.

“What do you mean?”

William reached out a hand in the dark, but she was just out of reach. He didn’t know how to put into words the sensations that had started to consume him. When he’d first realised that he was in this different world, the discovery of sex had been a delight, incredible fun, a physical joy.

And this girl, standing now in the dark, trying to catch her breath, she had seemed like a beautiful flower, opening up to him, graceful, welcoming, intent on showing him exactly how marvellous two human bodies could be when they were so in tune with each other, even though he’d always known it was Spike she loved, Spike who held the secret to owning her heart.

But now – last night, out in the cemetery, by the light of the demon fire, he hadn’t wanted to make love, he’d wanted sex. And just now, he’d smelt her and took her. The fact that she hadn’t said no made no difference. He had the dull, queasy feeling inside him that he would have taken her by force anyway.

“I can’t stop thinking about you. I want you! I burn with desire. It’s overwhelming me and every second it gets worse.”

Buffy shuddered. Burn with desire. That was exactly how she felt for William. This wasn’t how she felt when she was with Spike. Oh, she didn’t want her friends to know she was sleeping with him; perhaps she was even ashamed of what they were doing. But she was in control. She chose to sleep with him, every time; she was involved, an equal partner.

But since she and William had seen the demon fire in the graveyard, she’d felt divorced from her body; she was no longer in control. She burnt with passion - Oh My God.

“Passion burns,” she whispered into the darkness that clung to them like black fog. “William, the line of the charm. That’s what’s happening to us.”

Back in the Magic Box, Willow had climbed the steps to the top level and was hunting amongst a collection of dusty leather volumes that lay piled together behind some cardboard boxes.

She knew that Giles had left them there, deliberately out of sight from casual Dawnie eyes. And underneath the books was a small black box. Ancient and dented, the lock had been broken a long time ago, but Willow had opened it when she’d first met Tara, searching for answers to the feelings that were coursing through her body.

Every time she said the charm to herself, it rang a distant bell in her head and at last, she’d vaguely remembered where she’d heard about thrall charms before.

There it was – and inside the box was a book of handwritten notes, penned in faded brown ink. There were the drawings – some of which were so explicit that she could feel the heat rising in her face, even though she was quite alone up in the top of the shop. Willow remembered with a flash of shame that she’d shut the book and pushed it back into its box the first time, because these pictures had nothing to do with her and Tara.

But somewhere in this volume was the note that had slid into her subconscious mind and was now trying to get to the front of her brain.

Her fingers were trembling as she turned the pages; she could feel the evil coming off the pages, an evil that was thrilled to recognise the power inside her.

Instinctively, she knew the page when she found it – Demon Fire – the script was old and twisted, but she could still read it. And the words took the strength from her legs and she slid to the floor, her head whirling.
Because this wasn’t just about The Master returning. This was about the Slayer and what the demon fire had done to her.

To be continued