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Thanks to everyone for their very kind and enthusiastic reviews. As always, the characters belong to Joss, or whoever he's sold them to for large residuals.


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Chapter 15 – A Hard Decision


The Watcher’s Journal of Sir Arthur Gosnard-Tisklin.

London, Crepuscule Place, January 20, 1901 - We had scarcely arrived in London twenty-four hours when Lady Vicky received an invitation to a ball being held by Lord Teansdale, a family whose lineage only traces back to Henry VIII and whose founding ancestor was considered to be somewhat of a rascal and a scapegrace. It is rumored that the original Lord Teansdale was granted a minor title for his willingness to participate in the King’s less than savory romps with young ladies.

I objected to Lady Vicky attending the ball due to the unsuitableness of the connection as well as the necessity of assuming her duties in London, but was overruled by her mother who stated, quite firmly, that she expected Vicky to acquire a husband before the season was out and that most desirable object could not be obtained if she “sat at home on her duff or spent her time cavorting after vampires until the wee hours.” Lady Vicky, who was a party to this conversation, threatened to sick Blotto, her mother’s Affenpinscher terrier, on me if I continued to thwart her efforts to “have a spot of fun.”


***

Giles assembled the entire group at the Magic Box for his confrontation with Buffy.

“Let’s make this fast,” Buffy said as she bounded into the Magic Box. “I’ve got stuff to do.” Spike to do, mostly. He’d been whining for her to visit him the entire day with visions of roses, chocolates, and startling sexual positions. She didn’t think she could hold out much longer against the power of the claim, although she’d been struggling valiantly, just to prove to Spike that she could, at least while the sun was out and he couldn’t come and get her and drag her back to his lair.

Spike had been calling her all afternoon through the claim. His messages started out more or less neutral – Get over here. I want you, baby. - then, pleading and sweet when he didn’t get his way – Come on, Buffy, luv, I’m waiting. - with images of pink rosebuds and promises of sexual delights she’d never dreamed of along with a physical buzz that forced her to fake a coughing fit and bail on Professor Walsh’s class so she could run to the Ladies’ Room and – relieve herself. Good thing Walsh was only rehashing her lesson from last week. Nothing important, just more crap about the Id. Id, id, id.

Buffy ignored all of Spike’s messages, Friendly, Pleading, Whining, Sulking. Then, he got angry – Slayer, get your ass over here – followed by Swearing and Tantrum. Ignoring someone talking in her brain wasn’t easy until, during Spike’s last message which could only be called an outburst of apocalyptic proportions, she suddenly discovered that yesterday’s nose popping event wasn’t a fluke. She could shut Spike out. She scrunched up her face and closed out her claim.

“What ever is the matter with your face, Buffy?” Giles asked. “You look positively dyspeptic.”

Buffy touched her forehead. Was she starting to get a vampire face from letting Spike sip her blood? No, still smooth. “Yes, dyspepsia is Buffy.” Whatever that was.

Anya flipped her feather duster over her favorite wooden statue of Frimwerst, an ancient Laplandish fertility god with a very large, erect penis. She couldn’t understand why this piece had not sold yet. It was an incredible bargain and very decorative, especially the penis part, which was painted bright red. Unfortunately, Frimwerst was taking up prime retail space and not performing its most important activity – getting himself sold at a handsome profit. “Can we stop worrying about Buffy and get this meeting over with? I can’t count the store’s money while you are all talking. The talking distracts me. Also, Xander promised we could play a new game tonight involving leather restraints and candle wax.”

“Anya, your ability to provoke astonishment never ceases to -- astonish,” Giles said.

Xander ignored Anya and continued sharpening a special stake for Buffy out of a nice piece of ash, primo wood of choice for vampire staking, that he’d found at a specialty lumber yard. He hoped Buffy would use it on Spike some day in the near future now that Dead Boy, Jr. was back in town.

Buffy plopped down at the table next to Willow and her new friend. What was the friend's name? Tina or Trinka or Tonya or Trixie or Tabitha or Trisha? “Why are we here? Are there new monsters in town?”

Giles removed his glasses and stared at the ceiling in an even more thoughtful and borderline pompous attitude than usual. “Old ones, actually. Buffy, it has come to my attention that William the Bloody claimed you as his Vampire Mate.”

Xander dropped the stake. Anya stopped dusting. Willow covered her face with her hands. New Girl looked confused.

“Will!” Buffy said. “You promised! I can’t trust my best friend to keep her mouth shut.” Spike was right – there did have to be blood, or at least spit, when it came to making promises. She picked the stake up off the floor. Hmm, ash wood. Giles had told her something about ash wood once, but she couldn’t remember what it was. She twirled the stake around her fingers. Needed more whittling to improve its balance.

“I’m sorry, Buffy,” Willow said. “I’m lower than a kisna worm’s underbelly feelers, but I had to tell Giles. I couldn’t find out anything to help you. He was your only hope.”

“You needn’t reprimand Willow, Buffy,” Giles said. “You should have informed me yourself.”

“This is so romantic,” Anya said. She picked up Frimwerst and cradled him in her arms and stroked him.

New Girl crooked her mouth into a shy smile as if she thought the idea of a Buffy-Spike mating might be romantic, too. She shuffled a deck of big, brightly colored cards under the table.

“What’s romantic about this?” Xander asked. “Buffy has been claimed or mated or hooked up with one of the most evil vampires in the history of demons and you think it’s romantic?” Sometimes his girlfriend’s thinking was impenetrable.

Anya smiled and resumed her dusting. “Oh, yes. Vampire mating claims are very romantic. The male vampire sweeps the female off her feet and right after penetration --”

“Penetration! There was penetration?” Xander said. “I’m going to have an attack involving something sudden and massive.” He clutched his chest.

“There has to be penetration. And, biting. The male bites the female and they take their vows and become eternal mates.” Anya sighed at the beauty of the ceremony. “Say, Buffy, would you and Spike enjoy receiving this hand-carved wooden statue of Frimwerst, an ancient Laplandish fertility god, for your wedding present?”

Buffy groaned. Frimwerst was beyond ugly. His penis was pointed right at her and glowing red, too.

“Anya, please, you’re sending me into a Hurl Dimension,” Xander said. “What is this claim, Giles? And, how do we break it? And, Buffster, what’s with you and Cold But Attractively Sinister Dead Guys?”

“Please be quiet, Xander and I will explain,” Giles said, “unless you would like to tell us exactly what transpired, Buffy?”

Buffy made Unhappy Face. Telling Giles and the gang exactly what transpired was exactly what she did not want.

“Fine. Anya’s account is essentially correct. A male vampire selects his mate, initiates sexual congress and prior to resolution of the, er, act, claims her with the statement, ‘Mine’ to which she must respond ‘Yours.’ That establishes the mating claim. In this case, Buffy took the incredibly thoughtless and immature action of allowing herself to become the victim of Spike’s connubial interest.”

Everyone stared at Buffy except Anya, who was busy gift wrapping Frimwerst in some lovely silver and white-striped paper that she kept on hand for wedding gifts and demon matings.

Xander was the first to speak. He pointed at Buffy with a crooked finger. “You had sex with Spike?”

“Unnngh?” Buffy said, cringing.

“Spike bit you?”

Buffy nodded and scrunched her face up under Xander’s pointy cross-examination finger.

“Spike said ‘Mine’?”

She shrugged.

“Oh, man. I am really not going to want to hear what comes next. You said ‘Yours’?”

“I … I did.”

“It wasn’t Buffy’s fault,” Willow said. She felt a strong need to intercede for her friend after breaking her promise of secrecy. “It was that beer potion. Buffy was intoxicated when the whole thing happened and Spike tricked her. And, we’re her friends and we shouldn’t just bungie to conclusions.”

Anya stuck her best loopy, silver bow on top of Frimwerst’s head. She felt very pleased with herself for getting rid of Frimwerst so easily. She could use the space to sell something else and take Frimwerst off the books as a shoplifting loss. She handed the package to Buffy. “Of course it was Buffy’s fault. The claim won’t work unless the parties involved love and admire each other and want the claim to happen. It’s a mystical, true love thing.”

There was another long silence.

Buffy’s heart raced. The claim wouldn’t work unless Spike loved her and she loved Spike? Anya was rarely wrong on the finer points of demons, vampires, magicks or romance. After Buffy toured Spike’s brain, she could accept that Spike might, without even knowing it, love her. But, could she possibly be in love with Spike? Something gold and fish shaped sparkled at the corner of her eye. She batted it away with her hand.

Giles put his glasses back on, folded his handkerchief and placed it back in his pocket. “Be that as it may, as long as Buffy does not return the claim by biting Spike and initiating her own declaration of possession, the claim will expire at midnight on the next full moon.”

“Thank goodness,” Willow said. “How did you find out? Did you call the Council? Did they know what to do?”

“I did not contact the Watcher’s Council. They are not to know about this development. I have private sources that persons outside the Council are not permitted to access. Now, Buffy, after Spike claimed you, what happened?”

Giles probably didn’t want to hear about her First Awesome Sexual Experience With Another Person. “We, uh, I mean, Spike … uh … like you said, he initiated.”

“Initiated what?”

Buffy jabbed the stake in her hand up and down a few times to give Giles the picture. “Then, he bit me a little.”

“I see. Did you bite Spike during the, er, ceremony?”

Buffy thought hard. She was pretty sure she’d been too weak from Overwhelming Sexual Bliss to move or even talk at that moment, let alone do any biting. “I don’t think so.”

“Good. And, did you say the word ‘Mine’ to Spike?”

She had no idea. “No. No words, just … uh.” Orgasm Tsunami.

“That’s fine. What day did this claiming occur?”

“A week ago Tuesday.”

Giles got up to examine the Winder’s Magic Supply Calendar on the wall behind the counter. “The claim will expire at midnight on Friday night when the full moon reaches its apex. Buffy, you must make certain that you are nowhere near Spike on Friday night and the claim will extinguish itself.”

While Giles was fiddling with the calendar, New Girl fanned out the deck of cards and held them out for Buffy. Buffy picked a card. It had a picture of a man and woman facing each other and holding silver cups. New Girl smiled and blushed.

Anya was not pleased. “She can’t. Buffy can’t let the claim expire. I’ve given her the traditional wedding gift. Besides, she accepted the claim and she should stand by her vamp. She’s in love with Spike and he’s in love with her. If they weren’t in love, the claim wouldn’t take. And, think of the money she’ll save on batteries.”

Xander patted Anya’s hand. “Don’t worry, An. Buffy will give Frimwerst back when she divorces Spike.”

Buffy frowned. Divorce? That was one word that she didn’t like to hear, especially when associated with her own name.

“Giles,” said Anya, “We should start a bridal registry. Buffy can be our first bride.” Anya whipped out a yellow pad and a Flair. “China? We have a lovely five-piece place setting bone-white with silver good luck charms and –”

“Anya, you and Buffy can discuss her china pattern later. We need to discuss methods for – containing – Spike’s enthusiasm for bloodsucking until the claim can be dissolved.”

“Oh! oh!” Willow said. “Spike is totally bloodsucking contained. Buffy moved into his lair so she could watch him. Also, he likes to drink Slayer blood.” She smiled at Buffy as if informing Giles that Buffy was shacking up with a vampire was good news.

Giles drew out a chair and sat down in what could almost be described as a flop. He pinched the top of his nose. “Close the shop, Anya, and you may all leave. Quickly. Not you, Buffy.”

As she was leaving, New Girl squeezed Buffy’s hand, “Best wishes, Buffy. Hecate’s blessings on your wedding.”

Giles glared at New Girl. She scurried out the door, leaving Buffy to face Wrath of Giles alone.

“I’m sorry I had to confront you, Buffy, but I wanted to make sure you and the entire group understood the dangerous situation in which you find yourself. Are you really shacking up with Spike?”

While Giles herded the others out, Buffy thought hard. So far, she hadn’t been in any danger at all. Spike had never hurt her, had protected her from more emotional baloney from that creep Parker, gave her flowers, introduced her to his poker buddies and actually asked her out on a date, even if it was only to the dog races, which – weird much? Still, being asked out on a real date was pretty rare. The extent of Parker dating had been one foam latte with chocolate sprinkles. Her real last date had been with Angel, who took her to a Triple X-rated movie and got her all hot and bothered to no purpose. And, excepting the possible, but not proven, killing of the bar owner, who every one admitted had it coming to him, Spike hadn’t killed anyone since they’d mated. Maybe he wasn’t quite as wicked as everyone made him out to be?

“You’re telling yourself that perhaps our information is wrong, and that Spike is not as bad as we’ve been told. I contacted my most reliable and discreet source in the Council. Maynard assures me that Spike is as bad as they come. In terms of evil, death, mayhem, violence and pure wickedness, Spike is exceeded only by Angelus.”

“Oh,” Buffy said. So much for Spike as a Not So Bad Boy.

“I want your solemn promise that you will let this claim expire, Buffy, and that you will do your duty once you’ve extricated yourself. You will be putting yourself and all of us in great danger if you accept Spike’s claim. An accepted mating claim is permanent. There will be no way out for either of you, once it’s accepted.”

No way out? No divorce? No being dumped by your husband when you got a little old and fattish and some trophy secretary came along? That sounded pretty attractive.

But, no. She couldn’t. No matter how comfortable she’d become in Spike’s company, no matter how attractive the thought of never being dumped again, she shouldn’t accept the claim. But what if she was secretly in love with him?

“What about what Anya said, that we’re in love, even if we don’t know it. What if she’s right and I really do love Spike and he loves me?”

“Anya is very clever, but she doesn’t know everything there is to know about vampires and what she does know is merely anecdotal. No such mystical, secret love connection exists. If you were in love with Spike, you’d certainly be aware of your condition. As for Spike, he’s a vampire. He doesn’t love anything or anyone, with the possible exception of himself. Please give me your promise, Buffy.”

Tears welled up in Buffy’s eyes. Giles was wrong about Spike. She’d held him when he’d cried and told her about how Drusilla dumped him. He’d let her see into his heart, dead though it was. Spike could love. And, he might even love her, in that special shadow place in his heart that he kept secret even from himself.

Her own feelings had shifted around quite a bit since a week ago Tuesday. Also, there were goldfish. The goldfish didn’t matter. She had to do the best thing for everyone. She had to get Giles off her back.

“I’ll do what I have to.”

“I’m glad to hear it. I know you won’t disappoint me, any more than you already have. In the meantime, I think it best that you stay away from Spike altogether. Let me know as soon as this nightmare is over."

Stay away from Spike?

Buffy left the shop and headed home. She wanted to see her Mom and talk to her, maybe not about Spike, but Comforting Mom Talk was definitely required today.

The shop’s bell was still ringing after Buffy closed the door, when an older man, dressed in olive-green and gray tweed suit, stepped into the shop from the back room.

“Interesting conversation, Rupert. What precisely is it that you are determined to keep from the Council?”

Giles closed his eyes. Could this day get any worse? “Quentin. Snooping as usual, I see.”