Chapter Three
Giles needed lessons in how to chill. And in how to not phone on a Saturday morning at six in the a.m. unless he was being attacked by a demon. Or the end of the world was nigh. And even then he really needed to think twice about dumping Spike-shaped news on a slayer who was desperately trying to catch up on a week’s worth of sleep and could so do without that kind of morning newsflash.
Buffy groaned and buried her head under her pillow. What had she done to deserve this? And according to Giles, the bleached menace wasn’t exactly sane either. Obviously that last few months with his psycho sire had been all that was needed to finally tip him over the edge. If it wasn’t so funny, it’d be sad. If she could be bothered to waste her tears on Spike!
Still, she couldn’t be complacent about Spike’s return. He was dangerous enough when he was sane. If he was losing it, then she’d have to be extra careful while out patrolling. But seriously, there were hours of sunlight safety left. What was Giles thinking phoning her right now? That she was gonna get up and go look for the vamp before he had the chance to chase her down and rip her throat out?
Buffy rolled over on her back and glared at the ceiling. That’s exactly what Giles was expecting. Hadn’t she been fighting all week for one night off so she could Bronze-it and then get some sleep of the kind she didn’t regularly experience?
Well phooey. He’d still be sleeping like the dead in a few hours—after she’d snoozed some more, had breakfast and brushed her teeth. A girl had to have things completely covered before she went looking for evil, and facing Spike when she was still all with the drowsy was really kind of stupid. He could wait.
And so could Giles.
But that didn’t mean she could easily go back to sleep without images of an irritatingly persistent demon, all decked out in sexy black with stark, bleached white hair doing his best to dominate her dreams.
It was just fantasy, right? Just because he’d popped up a time or two in her dreams since he’d made that rather unusual and dramatic entrance into her private life, it didn’t mean anything. Once he’d sought her out and offered her a truce…which was kind of wild and unpredictable. Besides, he was the bad boy and all girls had to have a period in their life when they lusted after the bad boy. Didn’t mean that she’d stopped loving Angel. But when she could look but not touch, it did her the world of good to imagine someone else even more unattainable to keep her mind off what she wasn’t getting. Not that she needed it. No way! But…just in case…
She’d look for Spike later—but definitely before it was time for him to be all active-in-the-night again. And hopefully, he’d be naked.
Buffy grinned into her pillow and gave in to her imagination.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Guilt had powered her heels out of the house later that morning. Guilt and an unexplainable sense of excitement. There was something invigorating about hunting for Spike—something illicit and yet violent too.
She’d searched every crypt in every cemetery the town claimed to have and when she finally found it, she kicked herself for her stupidity. She felt his presence even before she pushed open the door, belatedly realising all those other vamps she’d barged in on had felt completely different to that of ‘feeling’ Spike. She recognised him, and that had her totally wigged.
There was a sense of reverence in the way she gently nudged the door open and stepped inside—into the dark. It was likely that Spike heard her approach—she knew vampires had good sensory skills even if the creaking of the heavy door hadn’t been enough of a giveaway. Still, nothing stirred and Buffy released a relieved breath.
She didn’t feel in the mood for dusting right now, despite the fact that she’d been doing exactly that for the last two hours. Searching for Spike all over town had been extremely opportune in locating some vamps smart enough to hide from her nightly sweeps. She should put the investigation of tombs and crypts into some kind of regular schedule. That would absolutely thrill Giles, she just knew it.
She saw him as soon as her eyes adjusted to the dark. Body frozen, Buffy just looked her fill at the vampire laid out on a cold hard slab, leather coat draped over the sides around him, arms crossed over his chest, and a sardonic half smile resting on his lips. His chest didn’t rise and fall and Buffy realised he could be awake and she just wouldn’t know it. He could be playing cat and mouse with her and she’d be walking straight into it.
Eyes glued to the surreal spectacle of Spike laid out and vulnerable, Buffy assessed the situation and came up confused. She didn’t want to take advantage of possibly finding him asleep; she didn’t want to fight him to the death. It wouldn’t be fair to sneak up and wipe out such a creature when he was least prepared to fight for his continued existence. And strangely, for an evil vampire hungering for slayer blood, he’d always been remarkably fair with her.
She belatedly realised that she wouldn’t be fighting him while he was in the nude and she quashed that little niggling dissatisfaction. That had nothing to do with her decision to back off. She so did not care if she was granting further possible opportunities for him to show her his body. She wasn’t like that—not this time anyway—and not outside her fantasies. As intriguing as the prospect of nude Spike might be, she couldn’t postpone killing him because of that.
Facing her reluctance head on, Buffy decided to retreat, but not before letting her eyes rest on that mouth and the evil turn it held even in rest. She couldn’t afford to forget what Spike was—who he was. Just because she’d walked beside him for a devastating night and spoke to him like they were on the same side, didn’t mean she could afford to get too careless. To get forgetful.
Shaking her head in an attempt to return some of her commonsense, Buffy back-stepped quickly. Lusting after Spike was worlds of wrong and she had to do something to snap out of that train of thought now before it really took hold.
Angel.
She needed to find Angel and be in love with Angel. So in love that she could forget about the imagined shape of Spike’s body under that leather coat he habitually wore. That was the answer…time with Angel. They should go on a date or something. Do normal in-love stuff like other people her age.
Buffy slapped the stake she’d been holding into the palm of her other hand and nodded in approval. She had a course of action and a sleeping vampire at her back. With a smile of satisfaction, Buffy was off.
Inside the crypt, Spike opened his eyes and uncrossed his arms, an evil smirk on his lips.
Someday soon, that bitch was going down.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
He was being followed. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and Angel felt the prickle of humiliation. He was a vampire, for Christ’s sake. He was meant to scare things, not the other way around. But whatever it was, it knew what it was doing. As he kept pace beside a chirpy and yet completely oblivious Buffy, he threw subtle glances around them to try and catch a glimpse of the pursuer and throw this feeling of being hunted from his back.
A newly risen vamp launched itself from the dirt imprisonment at their feet and immediately dived at Buffy, looking down shocked at the stake that penetrated his chest and the body that crumbled away around it. In a burst, he was gone and Buffy was dusting herself off, looking at Angel expectantly. He had no idea what she wanted, and was finding it impossible to concentrate when this encroaching evil was crowding him in, making him feel paranoid and desperate to locate his stalker.
“What was that?” he asked distractedly while darting another frantic look over his shoulder. There was something out there—behind the bushes, ducking about the larger headstones—he couldn’t see it but he knew it was there, and he was not a little disappointed in Buffy for failing to sense it too.
“Geez, right here! I said, we should go on a date. You know, do something totally inane, like a movie or something. I’d say dinner, but you have to eat for that to work.”
Angel couldn’t shake the creeping sensation up his neck that made him want to twist and cringe and go feral on the surroundings. “I eat,” he mentioned off-handedly, peering deeply into the darkness that was beginning to feel very much like it was closing in.
“Shyeah,” Buffy pacified with a roll of her eyes. “But they don’t have blood on the menu. I think a movie’s a great idea.” She stopped and looked up at him hopefully, quickly losing her patience when he didn’t pay one second’s worth of attention to her.
Everything he had was being given to the silent, invisible foe that was stalking him in the darkness. As if she hadn’t sensed their shadow all night. Wasn’t like she hadn’t expected Spike to show up some time, but Angel was taking this spooked routine just a little too seriously, in her opinion. God, he so needed to chill out. Why couldn’t he just say yes to the freaking movie and they could move onto the next stage of patrolling and start the kissage?
Buffy’s skin began to prickle and she suddenly felt desperate for said kissage. If there was one thing she didn’t need right now, it was the appearance of Spike and his vampy animal magnetism. She was totally avoiding, she knew it, but there was no way she could dismiss the fantasies that fuelled her dreams at night unless Angel got over his trippy paranoia soon and reminded her why she’d been in love with him in the first place.
She obviously was getting nowhere so there was no choice but to find some kind of distraction. Buffy snagged Angel’s coat arm and dragged him out of the cemetery and down the street. It was only half a block and she had the next boneyard to explore and conquer. Good of the town’s planning big shots to position all the dead so close together. That way no one got lonely.
Buffy giggled and determinedly ignored Angel’s grimace of obvious disapproval. What was with him tonight? He was acting like more of a wet rag than usual. Like he had somewhere more interesting to be.
Feeling grumpy, Buffy stomped away from her supposed boyfriend and went to find something to kill. Something she could be sure of and that wouldn’t ignore her when she was doing her quippy thing. One final glance back saw Angel still in the same spot, staring intently up and down the street waiting for who knew what to jump out and bite him. God, it was only Spike. Was he really that frightening?
Buffy shrugged. She didn’t think so, but maybe Angel wasn’t on that page yet. Maybe Angel was being tormented by ghosts and they could totally kick his ass.
Swallowing a snicker, Buffy moved on. Evil demons waited for no slayer.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
If ever there was a time he wanted to shag the vapid bitch to death, it was now. While Angelus pansied about like a superstitious git. It was quite hysterical how he kept looking over his shoulder for the presence he should have picked up automatically. The terrified kitten didn’t recognise his own childer’s presence and that was both shocking and, well, sad. That wankerish soul of his really had turned him into nothing better than a souped up human. No more vamp senses, apparently. Made the git fair game as far as Spike was concerned. And made his girl vamp chow.
He could sense Dru a mile away and it pleased him so little to have her in the mix, though the very faint hope that she’d see him topple the Slayer and then help him forget this obsession between her familiar…overused…okay, so the thought of fucking his own sire was vaguely revolting when he had nubile, warm slayer flesh prancing about in front of him. With a new determination that he didn’t have the vaguest hope of understanding, Spike banished Dru from his mind and focused on his prey. He’d think more on that complication when he’d achieved what he’d come here for.
Buffy was perky, and wearing clothing designed to give him a hard on without even trying. Her breasts were gently rounded and so near, yet so far as her thin blue mesh top held her in. The matching sapphire lace bra had him salivating like an adolescent and Spike couldn’t summon up the first effort to care. She was on the snugly side of lean, not-so-mean, and the kind of fighting machine that got him revving to have a go. He was swelling nicely in his jeans and as the violent images of her inevitable death flickered through his mind, he couldn’t help but rest a hand there and think about how she’d express herself before the final breath.
He wondered if she’d be tight. Angelus had said she was tighter than any virgin he’d defiled, and wetter than any river. Spike’s cock ached to feel some of that. To slide into her body while he branded her with a true vampire’s mark. While his fingers spread around her ample breasts and squeezed hard enough to leave bruises. And as his climax erupted into her tiny body, he’d strike; his fangs would lodge deeply in her throat and he’d drink her down. He’d tighten his hold and glory at the flow of her blood as it quickly became his.
Or he could crack her neck. Wait for the horror of realisation as he got her off, let her body shudder in orgasm and smirk as he embraced her cheeks, winked confidently and broke her chicken-like neck.
Or maybe he should tie her up—really play with her for a bit before he took the ultimate satisfaction and reclaimed his balls with a slayer notch on his ever-growing belt. He could make her wear his come, smear it all over her so that she was a deviant picture of raw sex when her fucked up little friends finally found her.
That image made him grin, and in resolution to his senses, he phased in and watched the current show playing before him.
“Hey, Buffy, wait,” he heard and watched as Angel finally pulled his head out of his ass and chased down the girl who’d given him her body when, if she’d had any bloody sense, she’d’ve given him the finger instead.
The Slayer stopped, obviously ticked off when she turned around and tapped her foot on the ground and then the stake against her thigh. “What?” she pouted and Spike stood stunned. Jesus! What an adorable set of lips she had. Fuck, he didn’t need any more complications. He already had Dru in the background just waiting to throw some more of this prophecy bollocks at his head.
“Look, about that date idea you had? I think…I think we should go. I mean, if you still want—” His attempt to make it up to her resulted in a warm armful of Buffy; Angel chuckled happily. “I take it that’s a yes, then?”
Buffy beamed up at him, relief and excitement warring for dominance. “That’s an emphatic affirmative,” she nodded, already thinking of something else she desperately needed to make her refocus on rather than the warning tinglies that told her Spike was really close by. While Angel was distracted with a little of the self-congratulatory slap on the back for being sensitive and thoughtful, Buffy attacked his lips with a forthrightness borne of impatience and tried hard to be involved in the moment.
Angel didn’t reject her, but he didn’t give in as easily as he usually did. He was still distracted and Buffy was just contemplating kicking him in the shin when a loud, familiar clapping broke through her cloud of disappointment.
She wiped her mouth as Angel pulled away abruptly, staring down his recalcitrant childe before allowing his bulk to slump in dejection. “You!” he spat, but his heart really wasn’t in it.
Spike raised a perfectly scarred brow. “You were expecting someone other than yours truly?”
Confusion caused Angel’s forehead to wrinkle, something about the appearance of Spike was more perplexing than he could quite grasp. Particularly as he’d stepped out of the surroundings from a completely different place than where he still sensed his stalker to be.
“Anyway,” Spike continued, thrown more than a little by the brooding wanker’s preoccupation. “Had to jump in right there. You two with the sloppy snogging was making me sick to my stomach.”
The words finally filtrated through Buffy’s dazed world and she objected strongly to Spike’s inference that she was revolting. “Hey!” she started, and then turned tomato red as he swept her body up and down with a lascivious look, his eyes smouldering with burning lust. She shivered, and almost totally forgot any reason for speech. “Yeah…well…too bad.” And she rolled her eyes with how meaningful that exchange wasn’t.
“Yeah. Too bad,” he repeated, lingering again at places Buffy realised with a start were new sensitive spots. She didn’t think you could tell about stuff like that without being touched there at least. But all Spike had to do was peer lazily at her and she was burning up. He appeared a little jealous, like he could happily stake Angel and keep on walking through his scattering dust as he made a bee-line for a taste of her mouth.
The image wasn’t altogether unpleasant—thought shocking on a scale of infinity—and Buffy shot startled eyes at Spike, already retreating as Angel swung another look over his shoulder in an effort to solve the one remaining mystery for the night.
“Spike!” Buffy called urgently, her fingers testing the stake clutched in her fist even as she decided she wasn’t going to use it yet. He had another free pass—for tonight anyway.
“See you soon, cutie.” He swiped a dramatic, yet self-explanatory finger across his unmarred, perfect-looking throat and was gone. Buffy hadn’t even blinked and he’d apparently faded before her eyes.
“Okay. So not loving the death threats, even if they are rather quieter than usual.”
Angel jerked back to attention, swinging his head round and back, looking for the vampire he’d forgotten about while he was searching for a different threat.
“What?”
“Forget it,” Buffy huffed, heading home. What was the point in smoochy patrol sessions when your boyfriend was too busy looking over his shoulder?
Angel didn’t even notice she was gone until the presence in the dark started to fade and he turned and loped after her.
Yellow eyes glowed in the darkened thatch of trees and Drusilla smiled seductively. Spike would come and claim the little slayer and daddy would be all hers again. Sometimes things were so easy that all she could do was laugh. A little twist of maniacal sound filtered into the night around her and Dru let herself fall into the soft grass cushioning her fall. Laying back, she cared nothing for the tree trunks that her hands banged against as she swept them in an arc around herself, ignoring the sting of torn flesh and the smack of her knuckles against the rough bark in favour of the image of the happy family of two she could see in her mind.
She’d make him see. Soon enough, her Angel would recognise she only told him the truth and he would choose her once and for all. The strong blonde girl was really no competition and Dru giggled softly to herself. Besides, Buffy would have her hands full and then Dru could really dance.
And Angel would dance with her till they burned.
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