Chapter Ten
Spike knew he’d hit pay dirt when he’d graduated from the bathroom to the living room. The incompetent idiots actually thought this rope could hold him to the chair, like he was some kind of William the Bloody Lightweight or something. His brow furrowed as a sudden horrifying thought hit him. He hadn’t really tested that. Maybe the soldiers had taken his strength away too. Flexing his now rapidly healing body, his muscular arms stretched the ropes and, as it was about to give he stopped and smirked in satisfied relief.
Little snippets had been circulating all day so he knew enough to work out this might just be the chance when he could get away from the beyond annoying bunch. He could admit, though, that their many little research sessions was shooting out information he just couldn’t work out how they knew. How was it they were expecting drama in the form of Peaches and vengeful ghosty Indians with a side of roast turkey and pumpkin pie? Was almost like they had their own little Dru on hand, but with a lot less nut in her case.
Not that it mattered, because Spike had a plan. And as long as they all ignored him, or if he could get the Slayer to trust him, there was no way he could balls this one up. He’d be free by day’s end and could offer up his own little Thanksgiving that he cut these interfering little brats down to size and he was once again a free vamp. He felt so confident he couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face.
“Hey Slayer, your little feast is smellin’ delicious, pet. Gimme a preview.”
She ducked out from around the kitchen and gave him a fiery look, her face flushed from his innuendo as well as her vicious slaughter of the food.
“Cut it out, Spike. Stop being a pig.” But she couldn’t stop the little girlish giggle that a day of celebration brought to her.
He checked her out lewdly, thinking to himself how easy it was going to be to snuggle up to her and fool the lot of them.
“I could help you in there, you know. Stir a little pudding. Wrap a little bird.” The rapid thump of her blood suddenly thundering through her veins had him give himself a mental high five and he just bided his time. He’d have her any minute now. Have her panting to get these ropes off him and rubbing her hard little body all over his eager bits. He couldn’t have thought of a better distraction if he’d tried. All her goody two shoes friends would be gaping while he lavished her with his special Spike brand of lovin’ and he’d aim his way to his biggest conquest yet. Bagging his third Slayer and escaping the clutches of a bunch of misfits.
“You…you really want to help?” she asked him, her little voice just dripping in the hopeful.
“Nothin’ else better to do.” He wiggled his hips in the chair, enjoying beyond his expectations the embarrassed little flushes that spread across her cheeks. His dirty mind started mapping out other parts of her delightful flesh he could maybe find that rash of crimson before he was startled by her hesitant steps towards him.
“I could let you go, Spike. I mean, I want to let you go…but you do know there’s no point going anywhere, right? You’re vulnerable out there, and I know you are angry with me for allowing that to happen to you in the first place, but I’m here to help you now. If you leave the commandos will catch you again. I don’t want them to have you back, so please just trust I’m trying to do the right thing for you.”
Her little speech made his jaw tick and Spike struggled hard to keep a hold of his temper or that foolproof plan was going to die a very cruel death. For it to work, they all had to believe he was coming around to the Slayer’s bizarre attraction to him. He could puke his guts up later for the things he would have to do. For now he was going to have to enjoy every little second of her presence. He intentionally blocked out the ridiculously annoying part of his William side that forced him to acknowledge that it wouldn’t be as difficult as he was making out.
Whatever.
She moved a little closer and he could smell the variety of foods she’d been mixing it up with in the kitchen. It really suited her, this earth mix of veges and meat. Made him bloody hungry too, and not for blood. He quickly banished the visions that had him pounding into her hard while she lay back on the dining table, her pretty little preparations pushed unceremoniously to the floor. It wasn’t right, and no way was he going to get sucked that far into this little delusion of hers. Even if she had made it more than obvious how much she would love to have his sexy bod.
“Now, Xander will be here any minute and he’s not gonna be totally with the healthy, so don’t bug him, okay. This is going to be a seriously long day, and I’ve already managed to successfully avoid one of Angel’s visits.” There was another one of those giggles that should have made Spike want to rip his ears off, but instead he found himself leaning forward, listening to her, smelling her, and being disturbed with how much he enjoyed it.
Her warm hands brushed over his as she put her arms around him and watched every emotion in his eyes as she loosened the knot. Her torso ran the length of his shins and he felt a need to part his legs and draw her in closer to his crotch. It was instinct, and he didn’t even attempt to move as she wiggled against his tight jeans, her breasts now pushed into his black t-shirt just above his abs. Bloody hell he felt hard, and Jesus he ached. Maybe that dining table scenario wasn’t so out of the question after all. A bloke would be stupid to knock back something so warm and inviting. Even if he was going to slit her throat when the time came.
Buffy was exhausted. It had been a beyond tiring day, what with the hiding and protecting of people that either were not wanting to be seen, and those that would have their heads off if they were found. Who knew that protecting the not so innocent—at least in the eyes of the natives—could be such hungry, hot work. At least Buffy could thank the PTB for some very nice and squishy vampire to lighten her load. Or at least, some time in the future when he’d forgiven her. She wasn’t a fool. A little further on the naïve side than she would obviously like, but she knew Spike. And she knew Spike was up to something. Still, what could he do? She’d let him have his fantasies and hopefully get some yummy smoochies in the meantime.
As she finally managed to undo the knot that held Spike rather symbolically—rather than practically—to the chair, Buffy let her hands grasp hold of his, smoothing her thumb over his flesh in a way that made her whole body tingle. She threaded her fingers between his and squeezed, letting her eyelids drop closed in building fatigue and heightened desire as her forehead hit his chest with a soft thump. God, the black fabric of his tee was soft. He must use fabric softener, one of the more expensive brands. He smelled divine, all softly flowery against pure essence of man.
Buffy could hear stuff happening in the background, but she felt way too happy to see what was going on. She knew she was tickling his chest with her nose as she slowly drifted up to dazedly taste his lips again. So smooth and cool and soft and she was going to die if he didn’t start returning some of her feeling soon. He felt so good and Buffy felt her heart expand more and more for this vamp who had without a glance stolen it right from out of her chest. She could never have expected Angel to be so thoroughly in her past, and she kneeled helplessly thanking the PTB for making her see the light before this situation eventuated and caused her four years of anguish and disappointment.
Not once did Buffy truly think Spike wouldn’t fall in love with her. His feelings in the dream were too real, too raw to be something that was impossible to eventuate. And yeah, she might have shifted the development just a little, but she couldn’t have completely mucked up destiny, could she?
A little desperation crept into the kiss and she wound nervous fingers in his hair, holding him to her despite no attempts yet to pull away. Her other hand was still caught in his, softly soothing each other as a storm of something swept them both away. His tongue meeting hers was like the biggest relief, soothing her greatest agony. It was real; he had to feel something for her to kiss her like this.
Sharp human teeth nibbled at her bottom lip and she whimpered against him, wishing the voices she could hear would just change realities and be somewhere else. Finally she was getting what she wanted and it felt too amazing to be ever interrupted. Which of course meant it had to be.
“Ahem, Buffy? S-sorry to er, disturb you, but Xander is here with his diseases.” Giles looked away from the moaning pair and waited till reality came back to them, shifting feet as he rather desperately searched for something interesting to look at.
Buffy reached that reality rather rudely as Spike spluttered his hilarity in her face.
“Slayer said he was gonna be sickly; didn’t mention diseases. Ooh, what kind? Leprosy? Are all his bits going to fall off? See, you lot should ‘ave let me drain the whelp before he became all useless. Oh wait, he always was. What I meant was, before he became all spotty and sweaty. Oh oh, wait…I mean—“
“Shut it… Spike,” came the disjointed and weak defense from his position on the couch, a very pasty and deathly pale Xander taking refuge under a little blanket with his strange sex-fixated girlfriend by his side.
Buffy got to her feet, disappointment showing on her face as she turned from Spike and rushed to Xander.
“No need to panic. Remember? We know how to cure this and you’ll be all with the better in time for my famous pumpkin pie.” Buffy smiled her confidence, her former weariness miraculously banished by the invigorating effects of Spike’s kiss.
“That’s…great, Buff. How many times have you…made that pie again?”
The smile slipped fractionally, and as much as he might be healed within a few hours, his sickness now was acute and he deserved to be lied to. In the name of friendship.
“Oh tons and tons. It’s my very best dish. You just wait and see.” She was on her feet and quickly fussing all the way back to the kitchen, barely glancing at Spike as he followed her and wrapped his arms around her waist, smirking into her hair as she ignored him yet allowed her body to jiggle deliciously against his as she whipped the hell out of her bowl of condensed milk. Was enough to make a bloke humiliate himself in his pants. Firm breasts rubbed against his arms and he felt himself tense, doing his own little provocative dance. His erect cock prodded her hard as he positioned himself between the little valley of her legs.
He caught his hand just as he prepared to explore other sensitive spots, feeling hopeful when he saw the string. She’d strapped the turkey and there was left over twine. Perfect. While Buffy was distracted, eyes closed against his probing length and rhythmic stroking, he pocketed the sting in the back pocket of his jeans. He might need his duster for more of the little goodies he could purloin in this place, but all of it could be good in his escape plan, leaving behind a stretch of bodies annoyingly missing his very distinctive puncture marks, but dead nevertheless.
The Slayer never noticed, instead she put her bowl down carefully on the bench and turned to wrap herself around him, feeling the loss of control as she pulled his head back to hers.
Spike felt himself giving in to the hypnotic stroke of her tongue, but not before he snapped up the stray box of matches on the counter behind her. He had one eye openly fixed on the large butcher’s knife too, but would definitely be needing the cover of smooth leather to get that little beauty out from under her nose. As he finally closed his eyes and let himself admit that this thing between them wasn’t as emotionless as he liked to believe, all hell broke loose.
And seemingly before he even blinked, there was a bloody bear.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
great appreciation to you all for continuing to read. I have been in rather a slump lately, so any encouragement through reviews I have received has meant so much. thank you for continuing to read.