CHAPTER 7 - Pretence
Buffy made her way through the cemetery at a steady pace. Phase one of Willow's plan was simple. All she had to do was to act like she didn't know about Spike's little confession.
"Because if he knows you know then phase two won’t work because he’ll be all knowing and holding back and if phase two fails, then phase three is going to be pretty hard to achieve," the redhead had explained.
"How many phases are there?" Buffy had asked with a sense of foreboding.
"If all goes well, just the three," Willow had replied with a grin then leaned towards her friend conspiratorially. "Three being smoochies and stuff."
At that, Xander had protested loudly, complaining about unwelcome mental images and Buffy had grabbed a couple of stakes determined to begin the first phase as soon as possible. Her head still spinning from what she'd learnt though, the nearer she got to his crypt the more she wondered if it was going to be easier said than done. Especially as her emotions were continually swinging from guilt to pity to anger to tenderness and back again.
In the distance she saw his crypt and increased her speed, still unsure whether she was going to hug him or hit him when they finally came face to face. Reaching the door, she lifted her leg and kicked it inwards with more force than usual, hoping that it would somewhat reduce the ire that was bubbling just below the surface of her outward calm.
It didn’t.
The door swung open and hit the wall with a satisfyingly loud crash that echoed around the tomb. Letting her eyes adjust to the candlelit interior, she saw that the crypt’s undead occupant was seated on the chair in front of the television apparently watching one of his dreadful soaps.
"Decided to turn up have you?" he drawled casually, keeping his eyes firmly on the set. "Didn't think you were going to bother."
Hit him.
Her anger rose a notch as she challenged, "Why would you think that?"
There was a moment’s silence then, "Later than usual. Thought you might have decided to try and get that much needed beauty sleep you're always harping on about."
Oh yeah, hit him real hard!
Annoyed that he still hadn’t visually acknowledged her presence, she walked over and turned off the TV.
"Oy, I was watching that!" he objected irately.
"And now you're not," she snapped as she straightened and turned to look at him, arms folded. The sulky expression on his averted face impressed her, she doubted that even she could thrust her bottom lip out as much as that. Silent seconds ticked by then, unable to resist any longer, Spike slowly raised his eyes to meet hers.
As soon as their gazes locked, Buffy felt her anger ebb away and a wave of tenderness crash through her body. He looked like a condemned man who'd received a partially frozen TV dinner for his last meal when he’d ordered steak.
Briefly, she wondered what he expected her do with the information she was pretending she didn't know. Yell at him? Hit him? Laugh at him? Agree with him? Probably all of the above, she decided wryly.
Maybe a hug after all…
"You know, now that I've got a good look at you, luv," he started then paused and tilted his head running his gaze over her face consideringly, "Maybe you should rethink the beauty sleep thing."
Ok, back to the hitting again.
Her mouth tightened grimly and she was about to grind out a scathing retort when it suddenly hit her what he was doing. Reining in her temper, she mentally counted to ten. She could do this. Spike was always at his snarkiest when he was on the defensive…she just had to rise above it…and she would…just as soon as she'd watched him squirm a little bit.
With that thought in mind, she forced herself to relax and smile. "Well, well, well, someone got up on the wrong side of his coffin this evening," she teased lightly as she let her arms drop to her sides. "Sorry if I'm cutting into your drinking time at Willy's, but I'm only running late because gang came over tonight and we got chatting." She paused, lightly pursed her lips and took a step towards him. "Willow and Tara, especially, had lots to say."
Spike stiffened slightly at her words. Hell, she was going straight for the jugular! Briefly, worry flared in his eyes, but he quickly veiled it and raised his chin almost defiantly as he strived to coolly reply, "That right?"
"Yeah, and what I want to know is…"another step…"were you actually going to tell me or were you just going to patrol like nothing happened?" She said the last in a loud, accusing voice and the vampire shifted uncomfortably in seat.
‘Here it comes’ he thought in resignation. "Tell you what?" he hedged, unwilling to hear the diatribe he had no doubt was about to be made.
She pointed at his stomach and took another step coming to a halt right in front of him. "That you got hurt last night," she explained in a tone that said he should know what she’s talking about.
Spike blinked then frowned slightly. "Hurt?" he repeated slowly and then she saw the realisation dawn and a look of relief briefly cross his features before he added, "Oh, that." His hand automatically went to his left side and he shrugged. "It’s nothing. Pretty much healed."
"Can I see?"
He raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Concerned for me, pet? I’m touched."
"Willow and Tara asked me to check," Buffy dismissed dryly. "Plus, I just want to make sure you’re not going to slow me up out there, that’s all."
"Oh well, seeing as Red and Glinda asked," Spike snorted sarcastically to cover up the fact that her uncaring attitude had upset him. He stood abruptly and let his duster slide down his arms to lie on the chair then yanked up the hem of his t-shirt exposing his sculpted torso for her perusal. Adopting a long-suffering look, he declared, "There you are then, Slayer, how does it look?"
‘Pretty. Damn. Fine,’ her mind immediately replied as she ran her hungry gaze over his well-defined chest and stomach. Her eyes landed on his wound and of its own volition, her hand reached out and gently skimmed down the still red lines that marred his otherwise perfect skin. Fascinated by the feel of his body and the play of his taut muscles beneath her touch, it took her a few moments to comprehend what she was actually doing. When she did, she snatched her hand away and looked up at him, wide eyed.
He stared back at her blankly, apparently unaffected by her touch. "Satisfied?" he queried gruffly as he lowered his top and raised an enquiring brow.
'No!' her mind screamed in frustration. "Looks ok," she forced out evenly, pleased that her voice didn't betray her inner turmoil. She turned and quickly walked away. "Let's go."
As soon as she left the crypt, Spike closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Tugging at his constricting jeans, he adjusted himself to a more comfortable position and tried unsuccessfully to get his unruly body to relax. When she'd touched him, it had taken all his willpower not to grab her, take her downstairs to his bed and keep her there until he'd played out every sexual fantasy he'd ever had about her…and given his overactive imagination, there were quite a lot.
Even now, he could still feel her warm fingers running softly over his body. Along his side, round to his stomach and down, down…
"You coming?"
"Almost," he muttered automatically and then his eyes snapped open in alarm.
Bollocks!
Shooting a concerned glance towards the door, he saw that the entrance was empty and breathed an unneeded sigh of relief. She obviously hadn't heard or he'd be dust, but he'd have to be more careful in the future.
Looking down, he then realised that his hand had been following the path his brain had visualised and was resting on his stomach. He immediately let it drop to his side and thanked everything that was unholy that he hadn't actually been touching himself intimately. Having to pretend you'd said something else was one thing, but having your hand shoved down your trousers would be a little difficult to explain away.
Forcibly pulling himself together, he grabbed his duster and slipped it back on then headed over to the doorway trying to will away his still aroused state. It was going to be a hell of a long night.
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Tara busied herself in the kitchen making hot drinks and listened to rest of the gang as they bickered good-naturedly over the movie they were watching. Well, Willow and Xander were bickering good-naturedly. Anya was still moaning loudly over the fact that the back of the box labelled 'Con Air' as an action movie when, in actual fact, it was a horror film.
Tara shook her head and grinned. One look at the cute, pink toy bunny and the ex-demon had shrieked, slapped Xander on the arm and hidden behind a cushion. Hard to believe she'd been around for over a thousand years and had caused more death and destruction than the witch could ever imagine.
A noise from the doorway caused her to pause what she was doing and look over her shoulder. "Hey Dawnie," she warmly greeted upon seeing the younger Summers sister.
"Hi," the brunette replied walking over to lean on the counter next to Tara and watch as she poured out the drinks.
"Everything, OK?" the witch asked, seeing a slight frown on Dawn's face.
"Yeah, I guess," she replied with a shrug.
Unconvinced, but not wanting to push, Tara nodded then went to the fridge and retrieved the milk. She added the liquid to the drinks then returned the bottle and went back to take the steaming cups into their friends.
She was about to pick up the first cup when Dawn broke her silence to softly ask, "This thing with Spike…it's all my fault, isn't it?"
************************
Buffy stepped out into the night air and took in a deep breath as she tried to get her wayward body under control. Flopping back against the cool stone of the crypt wall, she let out a small moan and closed her eyes. Geez, if just seeing his chest and barely touching his skin…his surprisingly soft and silky skin…could make her this hot, she didn't dare think about what kissing him could do to her. Spontaneous combustion, maybe?
Opening her eyes, she inhaled deeply again and let it out slowly, relieved to find that her heart was beginning to slow down to its normal steady pace. 'So much for making him squirm,' she thought to herself with a grimace. There she was, practically pawing him and he'd just stood there, unmoved.
Once again, the nagging little voice of doubt pushed its way forward demanding recognition, that maybe, just maybe, he didn't feel anything for her after all. God, how awful would that be? Not to mention, after her little display, highly embarrassing.
Determinedly ignoring the devil that sat on her shoulder whispering the unwelcome notion, she straightened and glanced back at the crypt door. Where the heck was Spike anyway? She thought he would've joined her by now.
Popping her head through the doorway, she saw him standing where she left him. Except, now, his eyes were closed and his face wore a blissful expression. The movement of his arm caught her attention and she watched as he dragged his hand slowly across his body and down.
Instinctively, she knew he was retracing the path of her hand and her heart started up its erratic beat once more. Knowing he wasn't as unaffected by her touch as he'd made out, Buffy decided to give him a little bit of payback for the moment of emotional turmoil he'd unwittingly put her through.
Watching his hand creep ever lower to the waistband of his jeans, a mischievous grin appeared on her face as she called out in the best stern voice she could manage under the circumstances, "You coming?"
She saw his lips move and then his eyes snap open before she quickly ducked back out of his view. Leaning back against the crypt, she bit her lip in an effort to stop the snort of laughter that threatened to erupt at his shocked expression. 'Serve him right,' she thought meanly, a touch of her previous irritation still begging to be released.
Hearing movement from within the crypt, Buffy immediately took a couple of steps away from the wall. Folding her arms, she schooled her features into what she hoped was a look of barely restrained impatience and waited for him to emerge.
He exited the crypt unhurriedly and sauntered over to where she stood. "Ready?" he asked, putting a cigarette to his mouth and lighting it.
Inwardly amused, Buffy noted that this simple task apparently needed so much of his attention that he couldn't even spare her one fleeting glance. "If you are," she answered sardonically.
'You don’t know the half of it, luv,' the vampire thought wryly as he closed his lighter with a snap and took a draw on his cigarette. "’Ere, aren’t I?"
"Finally," she sniped.
"Shall we?" he suggested through gritted teeth.
"Age before beauty," she returned, gesturing with her arm for him to lead the way.
Spike rolled his eyes and shook his head as he stalked passed her and headed for the cemetery gates. Definitely a long, long, night.
***************************
Tara stared at Dawn's tearful brown eyes in amazement. "What?" she gasped, not quite able to believe what the youngster had actually said.
Dawn moved away from the counter and sat down on one of the chairs at the kitchen table, facing the witch. "Well, I was just thinking that because I'm…was…the Key, that this is my fault somehow, you know, because I got hurt…and then I was so hard on him when I went to his crypt. I mean, he just stood there and looked so upset but even then I didn't stop yelling…"
"No, Dawnie, no!" the fair-haired woman refuted strongly, interrupting the distraught girl's babbling. She walked over then sat down next to the brunette and reached out to gently turn the girl's downcast face towards her. "None of this is your fault, okay?" she asserted, willing her to believe what she was saying.
Tears began to slide down Dawn's face and Tara immediately pulled her into a warm embrace. Stroking her long brown hair soothingly, she rested her cheek against the top of the other girl's head and spoke softly. "Oh, sweetie, I know that you're upset but you have to understand that this has nothing to do with you at all. It's about him. Spike's feeling a little…confused, right now and it's made him question where, and if, he fits in around here."
Dawn sniffled and drew her head back then wiped her eyes to look at the witch. "You mean, kinda like a mid-undead life crisis, type of thing?"
"I guess you could put it like that," Tara agreed with a chuckle.
Dawn smiled and then sighed. "I just hope that Buffy can get him to see that he matters."
"She will," the witch replied as she patted Dawn's hand reassuringly.
The brunette nodded and turned brown eyes that were once more filled with tears to her friend. With a tremulous smile she declared, "She has to."
***************************
"Xander and Anya had some good news tonight," Buffy said conversationally as she and Spike walked through their third cemetery of the night.
The vampire took a long drag on one of his almost depleted supply of cigarettes and grunted in response while looking avidly around the graveyard for something…anything to fight. With not even so much as a fledgling for distraction, his mind had replayed her touch over and over again, causing his agitation…and other things…to rise. Painfully. He shot an aggravated glance in her direction. Maybe if she would just shut up for a few minutes, he could pretend she wasn't there and think about something else.
No such luck.
"I take it that sound means, 'Did they, Buffy? Please tell me what that was, I'm all ears'," the Slayer commented flippantly. The vampire glared at her but remained silent. "Ok, Spike, since you asked sooo nicely, I'll tell you," she continued in the same tone. "They've got engaged!"
In the middle of another pull on his cigarette when she made the announcement, Spike was taken so much by surprise that he came to an immediate stop and began to cough. "What?!" he choked out, wide-eyed.
Buffy also halted and grinned at him over-enthusiastically. "I know! Isn't it fantastic news?"
"Fantastic? Nauseating, more like. Thought the silly bint would've had more sense than to agree to marry that great twit," he replied in a disgusted tone. 'An ex-demon marrying a human who hates everything vaguely demonic. That'll last!' he thought with a derisive snort.
"Yeah, well, better get over it, Spike, because they're having a little party at the Bronze to celebrate on Saturday and Xander asked me to invite you. So, consider yourself invited." She had only taken a couple of steps when the sound of more coughing made her stop and turn around to stare at the shocked vampire. "You know, you should seriously think about giving those up," she suggested gravely then turned away and began walking again before he could she her grin.
Spike scowled and flicked the offending object across the cemetery. Just as he was about to follow her and query whether Xander really had asked, he saw a flash of colour out the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he squinted between several tombstones and spotted a body wearing a yellow shirt. "Slayer," he called out as he started towards the corpse. "Might want to take a look at this."
Buffy looked back and frowned when she saw him leave the path and walk across the grass towards some graves. She immediately headed over and joined him as he came to a stop by the body of a dead demon.
Looking down at the corpse, she saw that one of its hands was wrapped around a dagger that protruded from the middle of his chest, his face still twisted in the agonising last throes of death.
"Nasty," she commented, screwing up her nose in disgust.
"Not like you haven't seen worse than this, Slayer," the vampire remarked with a frown. "Why so squeamish?"
"Not squeamish," she dismissed with shake of her head. "Just, yellow? With that skin tone? Nasty!"
"And on that profound note…" Spike muttered snidely as he dropped to one knee to get a closer look at the body.
Buffy crouched down beside him then frowned as she took a good look at the demon and noticed that there wasn’t a drop of blood in sight. Not even a speck of a stain where the offending shirt was pierced by the dagger. "Where’s the blood?"
"That’s what I’d like to know," Spike replied as he glanced over at her then back down to the demon before standing up and gesturing to the surrounding grass. "No blood, no signs of a fight, no nothing."
"Well, he didn’t just kill himself," Buffy commented flippantly, also standing.
"Didn’t he?" Spike disputed with quirk of his eyebrow.
"Well of course not!" she declared, staring at him as if he’d lost his mind.
Spike narrowed his eyes and gazed at her assessingly. "Do you even know what he is, Slayer?" At her blank look, he shook his head in amazement. "Doesn’t that bleedin’ Watcher of yours teach you anything?" he demanded incredulously before adding, as if it explained everything, "This is a H’Numkrig demon, for God’s sake!" When she continued to stare at him uncomprehendingly, he let out a lengthy sigh. "Little fact for you to pass on to Rupert; if they die naturally or get killed, they dissolve away to nothing; if they kill themselves, they don’t."
Buffy looked at him in disbelief. "So what are you saying? That he stabbed himself, mopped up his own blood, washed his shirt and then laid down and died?" she challenged sardonically.
"No," he snapped impatiently. "I’m saying that maybe somehow, someone or something might have managed to get him to kill himself and then took his blood."
"Took his blood?" she repeated, her voice echoing her dislike of the idea. "What for?"
"Food, magic, have a bath," the blond guessed with a shrug. "Take your pick."
"I pick magic," said Buffy, looking back down at the corpse. "Maybe even a ritual of some kind. Either way, not good. I’ll speak to Giles in the morning, see what he thinks."
Spike nodded. "You should also check with Red and see if she knows of a spell that requires a willing sacrifice or something."
"Right," she nodded in agreement. "What about you?"
Spike jerked his head towards the corpse. "I’ll take care of him then swing by Willy’s and see what I can scare up."
Buffy checked her watch then looked back up at him. "Okay, I’d better be going, but I’ll be over tomorrow night and you can tell me what you found out."
He nodded and she turned to go, then hesitated and turned back causing Spike to look at her quizzically. "Just so you know, I kinda like my patrol partner in one piece," she informed him softly. "Millions of floaty ones? Not so much fun; so be careful tonight, okay?"
That said, she abruptly turned and walked briskly away, leaving behind one very stunned and confused vampire who continued to stare at the spot where the Slayer had stood long after she was tucked up safe and sound in her cosy warm bed.
END CHAPTER 7
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