TO CATCH A FOX
PROLOGUE
Moonlight filtered through the trees, its silvery glow casting dappled shadows on the ground as a young woman sauntered through the darkened cemetery at a leisurely pace. With each step, her dark green sundress swirled around her ankles and her curly, burnt orange coloured hair bounced slightly.
Moving with an easy grace, she paused every now and then to bend over and read a headstone before carrying on her unhurried way.
Nearing the middle of the graveyard, she came to a church and stopped. The state of ruin told her that it had not been used for many years. Windows were broken, probably by vandals, and the glass was still lying shattered on the ground. The wooden door looked rotten, it's brown paint weathered and peeling, a green mould clinging to the edges.
Walking up to the door, the woman pushed against it and stepped inside. The musty smell of damp and dirt assailed her nose but she ignored both to look eagerly around. The pews were intact as was the altar but everything else had been stripped from the place leaving a feeling of desertion…not only by the people, but also by God himself.
"Perfect," she commented with a grin.
Heading up the aisle, she glanced upwards and saw a couple of large holes in the ceiling that hadn't withstood the test of time or weather. Not at all bothered by that fact, she reached the altar then turned to the left and entered the small antechamber that all churches of any age seemed to have.
The room was of a reasonable size and dry, its only furniture an extremely dusty table and chair. Checking the ceiling, she saw there were no holes and her smile widened in satisfaction.
"This will do nicely," she said to herself. With a last look around, she gave a nod then left.
Back outside in the warm night, she walked through the gravestones with new purpose. As she neared the exit, she heard a twig snap behind her and turned around to see a man standing a short distance away, his dishevelled clothes covered in clumps of dirt and grass.
"What do you want?" she asked, fearfully taking a step back.
Her answer was a feral growl as the man suddenly ran towards her and lunged. In anticipation of food, he allowed his demon to emerge, his face rippling and fangs elongating as he prepared to strike. Only, when it reached to spot where the woman had been standing he stopped in surprise. She wasn't there anymore. Instead, in her place, stood a larger than normal sized fox, eyeing him curiously.
Gold eyes met amber as they stared at each other until the vampire gave a roar and attempted to grab the creature in front of him. Blood was blood and he was hungry.
He'd barely taken a step when the fox quickly turned and brought its long tail around to whack it against the vampires' leg. With a howl of pain, the demon looked down and saw that his legs were on fire. As he ineffectually tried to pat them out, he let out another shriek of agony as his hands caught alight.
In front of him, the fox sat down and rapidly transformed back into the woman. Standing up, she watched the flames entirely engulf the vampire, his cries of pain abruptly ceasing when he suddenly crumbled to dust.
Sighing, the woman gave the pile of ash a pitying shake of the head then turned away. "Fledglings are such a waste of time," she muttered to herself as she exited the cemetery. Coming to a stop, she tilted her head to the side and listened intently for a moment. Hearing the distant sounds of music, a smile spread across her face and she turned towards it.
Time to see what entertainment there was to be had on the Hellmouth.
CHAPTER 1 - Married Life, Trouble and Strife
Spike sat in the back of Willy’s bar and refilled his shot glass from a newly opened bottle of whisky. Bringing the glass to his lips he swallowed the contents in one go, relishing the burn of the alcohol as it slid smoothly down his throat before putting the glass back on the table with a firm thud. With a heavy sigh, he leaned back in his chair and casually looked around the bar.
Demons of all shapes and sizes were dotted about the place chatting and drinking, all blissfully unaware of the inner turmoil that gripped the bleached blond vampire in the corner.
"Tosser's," he muttered bitterly as he poured and downed another drink. Picking up the bottle to immediately refill the glass, he looked at it and paused then replaced the top and stowed it in his coat pocket. He had a feeling he was going to need the dulling effects of the liquor much more later that night.
Right after Buffy dumped him to be exact.
Desolation at that thought had him almost reach into his pocket again but he resisted the urge and tried to force himself to stand up and go to her house where they'd arranged to meet the previous night.
It was Halloween and he couldn't help but smile at the memory of the year before when he and Buffy had made love for the first time. Ironic then, that they should part on the same day…or maybe just really bad timing. Either way, from now on, this day would always be bittersweet…having the very best and very worst of meanings. Unlife was such a bitch.
He sighed and moved around the table, heading for the exit. If he were honest, he'd been dreading this would happen ever since they'd become a couple. Even after a year together there were still times that he couldn't quite believe that he was with the woman he loved. And that she loved him back…at least she did…until a couple of weeks ago.
That's when he'd first noticed that something was wrong. Little things, like avoiding his gaze and blushing or abruptly putting the phone down to some mysterious caller whenever he entered the room. Whispered conversations with the two witches and covert glances over at him when they thought he wasn't paying attention.
But he was, and each time it happened, it cracked his aching heart open a little more.
It seemed as if every night he was waiting for the axe to fall and each night it didn't, he took her in his arms and loved her as if it was the last time. The previous evening, however, he'd sensed a change. There was an edge about her, a barely suppressed urgency that screamed of something big…and he'd known. This was it. She'd finally found the courage.
He was within a few feet of the exit when it suddenly burst open and Willow and Tara hurried in, each one a study in worried concern as their eyes sought out and locked with his.
"What’s wrong?" he demanded, his stomach clenching in sudden fear. "Is it Dawn? Has something happened to her?"
"No, Dawnie’s fine," Willow assured him hastily. "It’s Buffy. She’s gone after a vamp nest in Rosewood ceme…" A blur of black and blond rushed past her and was out the door before she’d even finished her sentence. "…tery." She turned to her girlfriend in wide-eyed amusement. "Wow, he reacted a darn sight quicker than last time."
Tara giggled and nodded in agreement. "Amazing how total adoration shaves a couple of seconds off reaction times."
"Yeah, I just hope Buffy's already got everything prepared," Willow commented as she grabbed Tara's hand and led her out of the bar.
"I think where Spike's concerned, Buffy's always prepared," Tara responded wryly. The witches shared another laugh then headed home to have a cosy night in themselves.
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"I'll be right back, honey," Anya informed her husband as she gave him a quick kiss and disappeared into the crowd on her way to the powder room.
With a smile, Xander Harris watched his wife negotiate her way through the throng of people on The Bronze's dance floor and leaned back in his chair with a contented sigh. Life was good.
Their wedding had gone, surprisingly, without a hitch. Even his dysfunctional family hadn’t caused any problems…although he had his suspicions that Buffy and Spike had had something to do with that.
They hadn’t ever admitted to it, but the vampire had definitely run interference between his father and the bar while the slayer had kept the peace within Anya’s more demon type guests. He smiled. There had been a lot of ‘skin problem’ and ’rare disease’ excuses flying about that day. It always amazed him how people readily believed an outlandish story rather than just accepting what their eyes were telling them.
Denial…a land he'd been very, very familiar with himself over the years.
Reaching for his beer, took a sip and thought back over the last seven months of his married life. The honeymoon had been fantastic, the small detail that they'd come back paler than when they'd left was testament to the fact.
A grin appeared on his face as he remembered what they'd got up to…his wife was nothing, if not adventurous when came to the bedroom. He'd never been so satisfied and the rest of their life together was just as gratifying. True, they had the odd argument and she could still manage to embarrass the hell out of him when it came to her forthrightness but, that was just all part and parcel of why he loved her so much.
For, perhaps, the thousandth time that day, he gave thanks for whatever force saw fit to give him Anya. She really was one in a million and now they were happily settled, he knew he'd never look at anyone else.
"Hot damn!" he suddenly exclaimed, sitting up straighter as the crowd in front of him parted to reveal a vision of loveliness dancing alone.
Arms above her head, the young woman gyrated her slim hips slowly to the throbbing beat of the music, her olive green mini dress hugging her body like a second skin. Head thrown back, her vibrant auburn hair cascaded down her back in a riot of curls. Eyes closed, she seemed oblivious to anything but the pounding rhythm as she ran her tongue along her slightly parted, coral painted lips.
Xander swallowed hard and set his beer back on the table with a heavy thump. "I'm a married man, I'm a married man," he reminded himself over and over as his gaze roamed over every inch of the woman's delectable skin that was on show.
Dragging his eyes back to her face, he saw that she was now staring back at him with an appreciative smile and knowing look. "Hi," she mouthed, her movements becoming even more seductive as she brought her arms down and ran her hands along the length of her body.
Xander gulped and smiled back nervously, his eyes widening slightly as the woman then began to walk towards him. A movement to his left had him glance around to see Anya heading back to the table and his eyes widened even further.
Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap!
Panic began to rise as he realised he'd been flirting and Anya was going to catch him. Having over a thousand years worth of revenge, 'woman scorned' style to her name, she never missed anything remotely sexual between people and she would so roast his balls over a naked flame when they got home.
Standing up, he determinedly kept his focus on his wife and walked over to her, pulling her into a fierce kiss.
"What was that for?" she asked, a little breathlessly when he relinquished her mouth.
"Do I need a reason to kiss my beautiful wife?" Xander countered charmingly.
"Well…no," Anya concurred with a smile.
"Good, then let's go home. Halloween…night off, remember? Why waste it by being here when we could be doing better things?"
"But you’re the one that wanted to come," she pointed out reasonably.
"And now I'm the one who wants you all to myself tonight," he coaxed, turning her around so that they could head for the exit.
"Okay." She grinned up at him happily and he pushed down the feelings of guilt enough to return a passably happy smile of his own. As she looked away, Xander threw a quick peek over his shoulder and saw that the woman was staring after him. Seeing his glance, the woman blew him a kiss then smiled provocatively as she raised her hand and gave him a brief wave. The carpenter immediately looked away then, ignoring the urge cast one last glance back, guided Anya out of the club and into the night.
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Spike entered the cemetery at a sprint, his game face out in full force. Without stopping, he drew in the air around him, almost immediately catching wind of Buffy’s scent. Heading in the direction it came from, he reached a crypt and burst through the door, calling her name.
"I’m right here, Spike," she said quietly. "Happy Anniversary."
The vampire turned his head to see her standing in the middle of the crypt, her smiling features softly lit up by the glow of the many candles that were dotted around.
As his golden eyes swept over the rest of the room, he noticed a blanket on the floor behind her with a wicker basket and cooler off to the side. Memories of the last time they'd been in the crypt suddenly resurfaced and he visibly relaxed, allowing his demon to recede.
"Happy Anniversary, luv," he finally replied, his blue eyes drinking in her black clad form as he slowly walked towards her. "Seems like we've been here before."
"We have. Just over a year ago, but last time you were being too cranky to enjoy it properly," his girlfriend replied as he came to a halt a couple of steps away.
An eyebrow quirked. "Oh, I think I enjoyed it well enough, luv," he disagreed mildly as his gaze flicked down her body then back up again. "And I wasn't cranky, I was being…"
"Broody?" she supplied helpfully.
"No!" he automatically replied in obvious affront.
"A poophead?"
Despite himself, Spike felt a smile tug at his lips. "Well…"
Buffy moved forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing herself flush against him. "How about, you were just being a little frustrating but at the same time incredibly sensitive?"
His arms found their way around her waist and held her tightly to him as he gently brushed his lips against hers. "Actually, I think poophead’s a better description," he mumbled before leaning in and kissing her harder.
She returned the kiss enthusiastically then abruptly pulled back and, before the unsuspecting vampire could react, she flipped him neatly over her shoulder and onto the blanket. Letting out an ‘oof’ as he landed on his back, he attempted to sit up but found himself pinned by the slight weight of the Slayer as she dropped onto his middle, straddling him.
"Little minx," he muttered, enjoying the feel of her grinding down against him.
"You love it," she retorted with a shameless grin.
"Love you," he countered, unexpectedly grabbing her waist and rolling her until he was on top. "So much."
"Love you too," she gasped, tugging at his duster in order to get it off.
Rearing back onto his knees, he shrugged his coat off and whipped his T-shirt over his head before throwing it carelessly to the side. Looking down at her flushed face, he slowly bent forward until his weight was resting on his hands, either side of her head and then stilled. Despite what she'd done this evening, he still needed the reassurance that everything was okay between them. Two weeks spent convincing yourself that the love of your life was leaving you could do that to a vamp.
"So, was this what all those hush-hush chitchats with the Witches and cut off phone calls have been about then?" he asked quietly, resisting her rather forceful attempt at pulling him back down.
"You knew about that?" she queried in dismay. "Damn! And I thought I’d been so good at covering up as well. I bet you guessed something was going to happen tonight, didn’t you?"
"Something," he agreed, almost sagging from the relief that flooded his body as she unwittingly confirmed that she hadn't been going to dump him. "Not this though," he added as his gaze dropped to her slightly pouting mouth. "Don't be disappointed, love." His voice dropped an octave lower as he leaned nearer. "You got me gooooood."
Buffy felt his voice vibrate through her and let out a little groan before abruptly twisting and rolling them over until she was, once more, sitting astride his waist. "Now I do," she teased, running her hands down his chest to his jeans and deftly unbuttoning them. "And I'm not gonna let you go. Ever."
"That's fine by me, pet," the vampire replied contentedly as he lifted his hips so that she could pull his pants down easier. "Fine by me."
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Taking in a deep breath and expelling it slowly, Xander walked beside his wife only half listening to her talk about the store takings for the week. Making the appropriate noises whenever she paused, he spent the rest of the time trying to dispel the feeling that he'd somehow been unfaithful.
The woman had captivated him in a way he hadn't thought possible. Ever since he'd committed himself Anya, he'd never even looked at anyone else. There was no need…the ex-demon was everything to him.
Until tonight.
Harmless flirting was one thing, but what disturbed him most was the fact that for one, tiny, fleeting moment back there…he'd actually forgotten all about Anya.
And it scared the hell out of him.
Watching his wife open the door to their apartment, he felt the sudden compulsion to reaffirm his love and grabbed her before she could even turn the light on. Smashing his lips to hers, he all but dragged her into the bedroom and fell with her onto the bed.
This was good. This was right. The woman earlier was nothing but a blip on the landscape and she was the one that was forgotten as he lost himself in the welcoming arms of his wife.
TBC IN CHAPTER TWO…
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Author's Chapter Notes:
You don't have to have read 'Atonement' to follow this as it is a stand-a-lone, but there are references to the previous story throughout.