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CHAPTER 10 -- Bedknobs and Bold Maneuvers

Author’s Note: Sorry this chapter took a bit longer. My creative juice was mysteriously all dried up. Nothing a little fanfic and Bloody Bones by Laurell K. Hamilton reading didn’t fix.

“Spike? Spike?” Xander’s voice waded through the blackness. Spike opened his eyes, relieved to see a friendly, albeit worried, face in front of him. Spike took a moment to gather himself, blinking rapidly. God his head hurt. Why did his head hurt? Why was he dressed like he was going to a wedding? He ignored Xander’s requests to tell him what year it is and who’s the president. Spike overheard a woman wearing a horrible looking fur around her neck telling a police officer what had happened. He tried to focus on her voice, but all her heard was “And then they took her by force . . . .” Her? Force? Buffy. The memories flooded over him. Oh Jesus, Buffy.

“Help me up,” Spike scrambled urgently. Xander grabbed Spike’s forearm and helped him off the ground.

Willow spotted them and rushed over to Spike and Xander -- the only people she could think of that would be able to help her. There were tears in her eyes, “They took Buffy! You gotta help me!”

Spike tried to shake away the blinding headache, “OK, Red, calm down. What happened?”

“They were the same guys from the warehouse. The gunman burst in through the back doors,” Xander explained. “The ones that lead from the kitchen. They took Buffy and ran.”

“Do you know where they could have taken her?” Spike asked.

“Taken her? I don’t even know who they were that took her!? How should I know!?” Willow was getting more and more shaken by the minute.

Spike placed a hand on her shoulder, “You shouldn’t, it’s okay.” He turned to Xander, “Give me your cell phone.”

“Spike are you okay? The paramedics are here, maybe they should take a look at . . .”

“I’m fine,” Spike interrupted,

“Spike, you’re bleeding.” Spike put a hand to the back of his skull and brought back a hand covered in blood. It wasn’t a big gash -- just in a particularly vulnerable spot.

Spike shook his head, “Forget about it. We have to find Buffy.”

Willow looked hopeful. Xander looked confused, “Why?”

“Because I’m fucking in love with her.” Xander’s eyes bugged and Willow’s face softened in an “awwww” type of expression. Only she could find the romance in all the blood and guts.

“You don’t even know her!” Xander cried incredulously.

“I know,” Spike responded.

“You’re supposed to kill her,” Xander continued.

“I know.”

“She’s supposed to kill you.”

“I know.”

“For a lot of money.”

Spike was forceful, “Harris, I know. And if you don’t want to help me, that’s fine. But whether you do or not I’m going after her.” Willow watched as the two men squared off.

The ultimatum had Xander considering his best friend. They had been through everything together -- most things best friends just don’t go through. They had killed people for money for God’s sake. There was always danger in everything they did, but they always did it together. There was just no way Xander would let him go through this alone. If Anya was in trouble, his friend might gripe about it, but Xander knew Spike would have his back. Xander sighed, his partner had always been an incurable romantic at heart, whether he admitted it or not.

Xander handed him the phone, “Take your time, it’s free after nine.”

Spike smiled dialed the number by memory. Walking away from Xander and Willow, he left a short message and closed the phone, handing it back to Xander.

“Who is it that you keep calling?”

“I have a source. We know each other from a couple years back. We’ve never seen each other, but I call when I need a little tip.”

“Do you know who it is?”

“No. I leave a message on a voice mail and I’m called back with a location.”

“And what does your source get out of it?”

“Money.”

Willow blinked at Spike, “That’s how you kept finding Buffy? Through a source?”

“Yeah.”

She looked a little disappointed, “And here I was being impressed by your tracking skills.”

Spike made towards the door, Willow and Xander following behind him. “We’ll take my car and drive toward the District, hopefully we’ll be in the area when I get a location.”

Xander, being the uncharacteristic voice of reason, interjected, “What if we don’t get a call?”

Spike was hearing none of it, “We’ll get a call. We’ll get a call, find Buffy, and get the hell out of here.” Spike slid into the driver’s seat, Xander in the passenger, and Willow in the back. He squealed out of the lot.

They sped around the city impatiently for ten minutes before the inappropriately cheery tune of Xander’s cell filtered loudly out of his pocket. The sound had all three jumping and Spike grabbing at his friend for the phone.

“Yeah?” he spoke loudly. He stayed on the line for mere seconds before abruptly hanging up. “We got it,” he told the other two and increased his miles per hour.

They rode for twenty minutes before Spike slid the car to a halt outside of an old house. It had a series of steps leading to a miniscule porch and the front door. Boards with gang symbols and “T.J. and Nikki 4-Ever” spray painted on them covered the windows and littered the surrounding area.

Spike jumped out of the car and bounded up the steps, gun drawn, Willow and Xander tagging along behind him. The house was cramped, made smaller by all the trash and debris all over the place. Spike jogged through what would have been a living room and quickly scanned the first floor, finding nothing.

He ascended the staircase that went up then cut sharply right onto the second story landing. Someone had knocked down the walls that separated the house from the duplex squashed up next to it, making the second floor bigger and more expansive than the first.

Spike was getting worried as he glanced into every room. They all had furniture and signs that someone had been there recently, but no Buffy. It wasn’t until he reached the last room on the left that he relaxed. Spike couldn’t help but sigh in relief.

Buffy was tied to an old iron bed. Her hands were held above her head by thick, coarse rope. There was a white cloth tied around her mouth. Her legs were tied to the other end of the bed. When she saw him her jaw twitched, she didn’t know whether to be relieved she’d been found or worried that she was secured nice and tight as a Christmas turkey being served to her potential killer.

Spike was amused at the rainbow of emotions that played across her smooth features. He leaned against the doorframe, “If you’d taken up my offer last night, you’d be enjoying this position much more I can assure you.”

Buffy attempted to curse Spike around her gag, but all she succeeded in was creating a series of muffled hums.

“You know you would have rather it been me that tied you up to that bed,” he smirked.

She made urgent noises in denial, her body arching away from him.

Spike approached the bed, Buffy twisted trying to get free. He crawled, a little too seductively in Buffy’s opinion, up her body until he hovered above her. Buffy jerked more violently against her restraints, her doe eyes brimming with tears, terrified to die, not knowing who to trust. Spike leaned down, nuzzling her neck and whispering in her ear, “Shhhhhh. Be a good girl for Daddy and stay still while he takes care of you.” He nipped at her earlobe, his lower body resting on hers. He trailed kisses and licks down her neck. He felt her entire body instantly surrender to him. Buffy closed her eyes and turned her head to the side, offering her neck. He ran a hand over her cheek, taking the gag away from her mouth, but quickly replaced it with his lips before she could protest. It was an urgent, bruising kiss at first, Spike afraid he would have never seen or tasted her lips ever again, but quickly slowed, reveling in the feel of her writhing under him. He rested his weight on his right forearm, taking his other arm down to her hip. She was concentrating on the kiss and didn’t notice his wandering hand when he continued to lower it, reaching the slit in her dress. Sliding his hand under the high cut, running up the outside of her thigh, his thumb hooking into the band of her thong. He moved his body so he was straddling hers, his mouth never relenting as he moved back to her neck and sucked harder. His actions had Buffy arching into him. When he removed his hand from the caress on her hip, she whimpered, but he replaced the touch with the strong grind of his groin into her heat. She groaned and opened her eyes, clouded by desire. The rope around her feet left her little room to open up for him, but his cock was rhythmically grinding into her clit through the thin material of her dress. Her lips parted as her breaths became more labored. Spike gazed into her eyes and lowered his head to kiss her. He swiped his tongue across her bottom lip, hers immediately came out to meet it, but Spike pulled back a little, forcing her to reach her pink tongue to play with his outside their mouths. He made a sensuous stroke up the insides of her bare arms to her wrists. With out ceasing his movements he began working at the series of ties holding her to the bed. When the ropes were gone and her hands free, Spike was satisfied when she left her hands right where they were, fingers wrapped around the intricate designs in the headboard. He nipped at her tongue and her swollen lips. And then, just like a ghost, he was suddenly gone.

When he stopped, she opened her eyes. Her mind hazy with lust, she looked around the room. He was standing away from the bed, arms crossed and smirking.

She shot up on the bed. Buffy gave him a pointed death glare before quickly untying her feet and flinging herself from the bed, seriously brassed off, “Was that completely necessary?”

Spike continued to smirk, “I think I proved my point.”

“Which is?”

“You want me as much as I want you.”

Buffy opened her mouth to respond. But the sound of heavy footsteps coming from the back hall behind Buffy silenced their bickering. Whoever it was, he or she was quickly approaching the door.

Spike’s face morphed instantly into business. He reached into his jacket, pulling out a pistol and tossing it over the bed to her, “Who brought you here?”

“I don’t know. They drugged me, I just woke up about fifteen minutes ago.”

They could of ran, maybe they should of ran. But then the problem wouldn’t have been fixed. They would have continued to be chased by these people. Spike and Buffy had an innate ability to read each other, and in face of crisis they agreed -- face them and get it over with. Even if they were dead in the end -- at least it was over.

There were two ways out of the room they were in -- the way in which Spike had entered and a door, the only one in the house still on its hinges, on the opposite side of the room. Spike and Buffy raised their guns as the door swung open.

A man about 6’1 entered the room. He was built like a football player. He was unarmed and dressed in some sort of army get-up.

He smiled at Buffy, who looked surprised to see him, “I see you’re awake.”

Spike stole a glance at Buffy, “Who’s this?”

“Captain Cardboard.” Buffy ground out. “Some guy I screwed over a couple weeks ago.”

Cardboard smiled at them both, “Well, screwed anyway.”

Military-man addressed Spike, his face showing no concern or surprise that he was there or currently had a gun pointed at him, “How’d you know she’d be here?”

Spike eyed the man suspiciously, “A little birdy told me.”

Another series of steps echoed down the hall Finn had just come from. The three waited in silence. A long-haired brunette turned the corner. Faith smirked, “Tweet, tweet.”

TBC





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