Chapter 7 – The Other Someone’s Plan



La nuit porte conseil – so say the French. Buffy might have sucked at the language in high school, but she knew enough to figure out that it meant ‘nighttime brings advice.’ And the night had brought insight, at least a little bit.


This morning upon waking, she had decided that her temporary insanity where Spike’s body was concerned was nothing but a blip. An easily ignorable, meaningless blip. So what if he was pretty, dangerous, and hard in all the right places? She had a boyfriend, damn it! A solicitous, loyal, loving boyfriend, who deserved better than a girlfriend who tried to rub herself to orgasm on a vampire not four days after he had left town.


So her grand ‘forget about Spike’s firm ass and lean hips’ scheme was to work herself ragged during her afternoon shift at the gallery – heavy lifting galore! – and then hit the town’s new gym’s open house, as she’d written to Riley the previous night. Nothing said exhaustion-induced amnesia like lugging heavy boxes and back-to-back free aerobics classes!


Hopefully after that she could head straight home without running into the object of her disturbing affections and thus reboot her regular work-slay-sleep pattern. Because after last night, there was no way in hell she was going to even attempt to spar with Spike again.


Which was too bad, because she’d been having a blast before she’d gone and dry humped his butt like a sex-starved maniac. Trading insults and punches with Spike was always such a blast, and she really needed the excitement. He was right; on that level, they were the same. They needed the adrenaline rush of a good fight in order for their lives as warriors of the night to make sense. Violence against evil beasties was her calling, and the only violence Spike could indulge in, so the sheer absence of it so far this summer was driving them both up the wall.


Although... maybe she was approaching this all backwards. What if avoiding Spike only made her want him more? What if she ended up spending all her free time polishing up the fantasy in her mind to the point where she craved him? At this point, she hadn’t even made it past Spike’s fingers gliding up her thigh under her skirt – ’cause she’d decided to just forgo the yoga pants in her daydreams – but what would happen when her fertile imagination took her further? What would happen if she eventually found herself confusing fantasy with real life?


Therefore, maybe it would make sense to seek him out tonight. Since he usually sparked feelings of annoyance and disgust in her, and her bizarre attempt to ride his ass into orgasm was most definitely a one time thing, maybe seeing him would inspire her oh-so-wrong lusty thoughts to pack a bag and decamp from her brain.


But what if running into him did nothing but embarrass her? There was no proof that he’d noticed anything was amiss last night before she ran off. He’d been clutching his head in pain and cursing up a storm. Even horny, suggestion-prone vampires went a bit oblivious when excruciating pain distracted them, right?


Ugh, enough! Buffy took a deep breath and ordered herself to stop thinking about ‘what ifs’ where Spike was concerned. She had nothing to gain by driving herself crazy about last night’s indiscretion. She could be the Queen of denial when she put her mind to it, and this awkward – at least for her – situation warranted the best denial-ing she could commit to.


So, plan for the day: shower, breakfast/lunch, gallery, gym, home. She’d be so busy that Spike wouldn’t even be on her radar!



--*--*--



The sun had set over Sunnydale, and Buffy was feeling quite proud of herself. Back-breaking storeroom duty at the gallery? Check! Not one, but two free aerobics classes at the town’s new gym? Check! Keeping thoughts of Spike down to a bare minimum? Check... ish.


By her calculations, she hadn’t thought of him more than she regularly did on any given day. It’s just that the quality of said thoughts had... shifted somewhat. Away from ‘evil, soulless, dead thing I should really, really kill’ and more into the wrong-side-of-the-tracks neighborhood of ‘evil, soulless, drop-dead gorgeous vampire that I want to press up against a wall and lick all over.’ Because of course, despite her best intentions, the fantasy had evolved during the day.


Which was so not of the good. But thoughts were just thoughts until they became actions, right?


“That was fun, wasn’t it? What an interesting way to pass the time, hopping up and down from a fake plastic step while moving our bodies in ways in which they were not designed to move.”


Buffy had run to Anya at Sunnydale’s Other Gym’s open house and she could only assume that her Spike lickage fantasies were directly derived from listening to Anya go on and on and on and on about how she’d read in Cosmo that being in better shape would increase the frequency and intensity of her orgasms. How could any girl not think of a hot guy when one of her sorta friends was explaining the importance of Kegels for a girl’s satisfaction?


And Buffy was so not going to spend time pondering the fact that her polite, courteous, and living boyfriend was not front and center in her imagination during Anya’s prattling. No way. Not going there.


“Buffy, can I ask you an orgasm-related question?” Anya queried as she and Buffy walked away from the gym. Both girls were sweaty and tired from their class – classes, in Buffy’s case.


“I’d really rather you didn’t,” was Buffy’s tense reply. Considering the fact that most of her orgasms in the past couple of months had been hand delivered...


“Does Riley,” Anya started, despite Buffy’s refusal, “have a special move that’s guaranteed to give
you orgasms? Because Xander and I have decided to open ourselves up to experimentation with different techniques.”


“Ok, eww... that’s really more than I needed to know.”


Anya decided to try another tact apparently, because she pressed on. “Buffy, Xander is your friend. Don’t you want to do your part to ensure that he be as happy as possible? And me being sexually satisfied goes a long way towards Xander’s happiness.”


“I’m sure you’re, uh, right about that, Anya. But I really don’t feel comfortable discussing my sex life with you,” Buffy admitted.


“Oh,” Anya said, obviously disappointed.


“Don’t take is personally,” Buffy was quick to try to reassure her. “I don’t even feel comfortable discussing it with Willow and she’s been my best friend for years.” Sensing that mentioning Willow did little to make Anya feel less rebuffed, she added, “but I’d be glad to walk you home, if you want.”


Anya brightened immediately. “Oh, thank you! An attractive girl such as myself can never be too safe after dark in this town.”


“Uh, my pleasure.”


They walked for a few minutes in awkward silence. Buffy was lost in her own thoughts. She’d deliberately left her stakes at home in an attempt to tempt fate into sending one or two vamps her way. So far, no such luck. Not even a teeny, faint tingle was to be felt.


She tried to ignore her disappointed inner voice that whined but that means Spike isn’t around either! And then it had the gall to stamp its foot!


“Do you miss Riley?”


“Huh?” Buffy was jerked out of her thoughts by Anya’s question.


“I mean, he’s been gone for almost a week now. And you know he’s not going to be back for a while. How does that feel?” Anya clarified.


Like I wish he’d come back post haste so I can stop fantasizing about doing dirty things to Spike and concentrate on my caring, wholesome, affectionate boyfriend.


“Like I hope he’s having a good time with his family and I wish he was here.” There, safe answer.


“Oh.”


“What do you mean, ‘oh’?” Buffy asked, suspicious.


“It’s just that if it were Xander who was gone for weeks and weeks, I’d be miserable from missing him,” Anya answered. “I can barely go twenty-four hours without wanting to jump him, so I can’t imagine being as calm as you are about Riley being too far away to have sex with you. Unless you’re having phone sex.”


“I’m not calm!” Buffy protested, choosing to ignore that last part. “I really miss Riley. It just, um, hasn’t really sunk in yet that he’s gone. And I’ve been so busy with, you know, slaying and work and stuff... Hey, isn’t this your place already?”


Anya stopped at the walkway leading to the door and turned to face Buffy, hand on her hip. “Thank you for walking me home. And I know you and I are not as close as you and Willow, but I do like to think that I can be pretty observant. And right now, I don’t see a girl who misses her boyfriend’s sexual talents. That could be a sign that he’s not right for you.”


Buffy just stared at her. Ok, that was beyond blunt, even for Anya. And oddly perceptive, especially for Anya.


“Well, goodnight!” Anya said brightly before spinning on her heel and heading for the front door.


“Bye,” Buffy offered halfheartedly, her mind already miles away. She started back in the direction from which they’d came; time to go home, shower, and turn in early for a good night’s rest.


Or maybe not, if the sudden chill on the back of her neck was what she thought it was...


She spun around, casting her Slayer senses about excitedly as she dropped her gym bag on the pavement. Could it really be? Dare she dream? Was there really a vampire in her general vicinity? She’d have to go old fashioned on it and aim for decapitation with her bare hands, but she was game.


Now, to draw it out.


“Oh, no, silly me,” Buffy play-acted in a sing-song voice. “I seem to have lost my way home. I guess I’ll just wander these dark, empty streets alone until I find my street.”


“’s really sad the way the lack of nasties to fight has negatively affected your quips, Slayer.”


Oh no. There was only one vampire in town with that particular bone-melting British accent.


“Spike, hi!” Buffy fake-smiled at him as he stepped out from behind a tree. “I was just heading... somewhere that isn’t here.” She was relieved to note that her legs were only slightly turning to jelly at the sight of him.


“So soon, pet? But the night has barely started. What do you say we head over to...” Spike trailed off, suddenly waving his hand in front of his nose. “Bloody hell, what is that stench?”


“Huh? What are you talking about, nothing smells.” Irritated with Spike’s theatrics, which now included making a repulsed face as he pinched his nose, Buffy felt the need to point out, “and if it bothers you so much, don’t breathe!”


“I think it’s comin’ from you, love. Ugh, did you forget to take a shower or six?”


And there was the Spike she knew and loathed.


“Hey, I just left the gym, smelling of sweat is perfectly natural.”


“If you say so,” Spike coughed. “I suppose that it’s... tolerable, once I get used to it. Bloody humans and your smelly bodily functions.” He paused. “Of course, there’s another smell I enjoy much more on you,” Spike amended with eyes too wide to be innocent.


So he knew. Of course. Stupid vampire noses!


He had the gall to smirk at her. “You know, if you wanted me that badly, all you had to do was ask, pet. I would’ve been happy to oblige.” He stuck his hands in his jean pockets and rocked back on his heels, thrusting his pelvis in her direction.


Faked innocence was key. “What are you talking about?”


“That delicious scent you left all over the cemetery last night.”


“What, Caramel Frappucino?”


“No need to play coy, pet. I know what fighting does to you. I know what fighting me does to you,” he pointed out, tilting his head as he looked her up and down, dragging his eyes over her every curve.


“Make me wish you could fight back so I could stake you fair and square?” she suggested, hoping his keen senses missed the way her nipples tightened under his gaze.


He snapped his eyes back up to hers, affronted. “None of that, now. Fact is, fighting makes you horny, ‘s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s not like you acted on it, yeah?”


Oh. Oh.


Spike didn’t know.


Ok, so he’d, eww, smelled her arousal. But he thought it was the sparring that affected her. He had no idea that she’d nearly come all over him from the friction alone. She was safe.


“Right, Spike,” she replied, trying to go for ‘contrite,’ but probably only making it to ‘vaguely apologetic.’ “And, uh, I shouldn’t have run out on you last night. That was... childish of me.”


“Well, ‘s all in the past now. Wanna go another round?” he asked.


Gulp. “Um, you know, Spike, I really would, but the thing is I’m, like, exhausted after the day I’ve had. Lots of heavy lifting and cardio, you know? So, maybe some other time?” Buffy finished on a squeak.


She was amazed to see that Spike looked disappointed. Boy, he must really be lonely if the prospect of not spending an evening with her made the light go out of his eyes and his shoulders droop. He was supposed to hate her – and he would even more if he even suspected what she’d used him for last night.


“I understand. Tomorrow night, then?” Spike asked hopefully.


Buffy didn’t have the heart to turn him down. She’d just have to repress her body’s reaction to him – and her lust-addled brain – and suck it up. It was the least she could do.


“Sure, Spike. Tomorrow night.”




TBC...