OUT OF THIS WORLD
December
The Slayer sat comfortably lounging in a deep leather armchair. She occasionally took a sip from a red-tainted drink, which she kept within easy reach on one of the armrests, while her eyes took in the people around her with a relaxation which – ten years ago – wouldn’t only have been improbable, but impossible.
Now – at twenty-eight and having dodged more lethal situations than she sometimes cared to admit – she had grown out of the tingles her spider senses would send down her spine whenever there was a darker creature close by. The tingles were still there, but the warning had slowed its urgency, and she almost enjoyed feeling it tugging its way cautiously over her shoulders and down between her shoulder blades. She was always up for a challenge, and since they truly had gotten scarcer and scarcer, as her already honed skills grew ever more powerful, she respected the tingle for the prospect it represented. But she never did pay it much heed anymore.
That was, of course, one of the main reasons why she was so shocked at the sound of his voice.
“I’d ask myself what you’re doing here,” it said and she looked up as he finished: “but I know your answer’ll be much more colorful.”
Strange, was all she could think. Strange how cards were dealt. How happenstances play such mighty parts. How those eyes never changed. Even after a little death they hadn’t changed. But he was different.
She was different.
She had known this was inevitable. Someday, somewhere, they were bound to run into one another. Though this seemed the least likely place.
She smiled, with ease.
“I’m celebrating,” she replied, indicating the empty armchair next to her and he sunk down in it, putting his glass on the table and eyeing her in silence before saying:
“I don’t see any champagne.”
She smiled again.
“It’s not that kind of celebration.”
“There’s no other kind.”
She raised her glass.
“Beg to differ,” she said meaningfully, taking a mouthful of the liquid and swallowing slowly.
He smiled as well, but said nothing more, merely waited for her to elaborate. She put the glass back down, her gaze in his, searching his face and finding it familiar, but it had something more now. Something that came from having lived with people he cared for, for so many years. Their imprints were there. The softness in his smile; the effortlessness with which it appeared; a new glint in his eye.
“I beat the bad guy,” she said with a nod to her drink. “I like something fruity at the end of a hard days work, what can I say?”
“Well, you can admit to there being one ounce of fruit and three quarts of tequila in there,” he offered.
She smirked.
“Devil,” she retorted.
“To devils,” he said, raising his glass and she brought hers to it. “They make the world a bit more interesting.”
“You always managed to, didn’t you?” she agreed, taking a sip.
“And without trying.”
“Yes, it all came so naturally.”
“Oh, it did, I assure you.”
She smirked.
“Assurance is the last thing I need, I was there, I remember.”
He tilted his head a little to one side and for a second she was back in Sunnydale, back in his crypt. But only for a second.
“Been awhile,” he mumbled and her eyes were in his again.
“Six years,” she said.
“God, has it really been that long?”
“Time flies, doesn’t it?”
“On rather large wings.”
“Rushes by.”
“Always something to do, somewhere to be.”
They grew silent. Both of them knowing that they were about to apologize. Both of them not wanting to speak the words out loud, neither of them needing to hear them. It was done, unchangeable. Whatever reason they had had to do the run-around with each other for all this time, it seemed to be paling now that they were sitting face to face.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to see you, she would say.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be seen, he would ensure.
It was just never the right time, they would agree.
Something came up. Something pulled me away and I couldn’t be there. Something made it impossible for me to stand before you. And I don’t know what. And I’m not sure why I felt that way. But I chose to let it be there, and I didn’t try to remove it, and maybe it was cowardice, maybe it was something deeper, but at the end of the day...
I didn’t want to see you just then.
“It’s weird that he’s married,” she finally said.
Spike seemed to come out of a reverie, blinking, nodding.
“I thought you’d end up together,” he said. “In the end.”
She stared at him. Then smiled, shaking her head a little as she didn’t know what to say to that.
“Angel will always be...” she trailed off, looking at her shoes, at the sparkling diamonds covering the toe and running to the heel.
“...someone you kiss hello?” Spike said helpfully.
At the playful tone in his voice she met his gaze, and another smile drew over her lips.
“Yes.”
“And what am I?” he wondered, the playfulness deepening.
Her smile widened.
“I’d kiss you hello,” she stated. “Only you didn’t say hello, now did you?”
He watched her for a few seconds before leaning forward and saying:
“Hello.”
She laughed, but slid onto the edge of her chair and leaned forward as well, the tip of her nose by his. Placing a hand lightly on his cheek she said:
“Hello.”
Closing her eyes she didn’t hesitate before kissing him softly on the lips. Pulling back she rested her gaze in his and thought she caught the glimpse of a different shade in them, a new emotion attacking him, but it disappeared as he merely wore a satisfied grin, sinking back in his chair.
She laughed again.
“Guess some things never change,” she said, scooting back and grabbing her drink.
“Yeah, how have you gotten by without me?”
She smiled at that.
“Desperately and forlornly.”
He returned the smile.
“Have a hard time seeing that.”
“Then take a look around; here I am, all alone, toasting my victories.”
“You sound like you might need saving.”
“That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Someone up there saw me and didn’t think it was fair, so they sent me you.”
His smile lingered.
“To angels then,” he offered. “Sometimes they’re a pain in the ass, but when they’re watching your back...”
“...they’re a pain in the neck?”
“Better your neck than your ass,” he raised his eyebrows suggestively and she smiled again, drinking the toast.
“Funny,” she said. “I’d ‘ve pegged you for a neck-guy any day of the week.”
He gave her a look and her smile broadened.
“I know why you’re in Malta,” he acknowledged. “But you have to tell me why you ended up in this dive.”
“It’s not a dive,” she protested. “It’s cozy,” she added firmly.
“So it’s a cozy dive.”
“It’s quiet,” she said, ignoring his input. “Never any brawls.”
“They’re playing jazz,” he commented with a slight frown.
“I like jazz. It’s soothing. And why are you here, if you think it’s so bad?”
“It’s the only place that serves blood before eleven!”
She smiled. He smiled back. They grew silent again.
She was glad that he had chosen to approach her. She was happy that there was no staleness between them; she could have handled anything but that. She wasn’t sure what she felt when she looked at him. It was shadowed emotions that stirred within her. But it was nice to laugh with him. And she had always known that part of her probably never would stop missing him.
“I hear you’re free to roam the world,” he said.
She sipped her drink, resting her eyes in his for a second, contemplating the question.
“Semi-free,” she consented. “The Slayer Machine grinds me here and there and... everywhere.”
He smiled knowingly.
“But wanna take one lousy vacation...”
“I get stuck,” she filled in, smiling as well. “I don’t mind.”
“Nights like these...”
“In a new part of the world.”
“Make up for it,” he finished. “I would’ve thought you’d retire.”
“Retire from what?” she laughed. “My calling?”
The sarcasm in the last word didn’t go by unnoticed and he watched her, then said:
“You have others sharing it. There would be no guilt.”
“No, but the things that go bump in the night are hard to shut out. Hear someone screaming for help, what ‘re you gonna do?”
“Yes, and when you have someone constantly bloody reminding you of what you owe and what you have to make up for and... well, it doesn’t paint a pretty picture, does it?”
She smirked.
“Angel keeping a tight leash?”
“Who’s talking Peaches?” he asked. “I’m talking about myself.”
She chuckled, shaking her head at him.
“You’ve done a lot of good,” she said. “I wouldn’t have seen you and Angel forming such a lasting
partnership, but...”
They both smiled at that.
“He’s alright, when he’s not trying his best to annoy the hell out of you,” Spike replied, making her laugh once more.
¤
“I wouldn’t know which country to choose.”
He shrugged, putting his glass of beer on the table. It had been refilled, as had Buffy’s drink.
“Where are you most at home?”
“That’s the trouble, I’m not sure. I loved Rome, but there’s something about England, too. And Giles is there, and Willow.”
“Paris, then?”
She met his gaze.
“You’ve kept yourself informed, I’m flattered.”
“Wouldn’t wanna miss what the Bit’s up to.”
She smiled.
“Right.”
He smiled back.
“Paris is a great city,” he picked up. “And if Dawn’s there...?”
“Yes, but a country or two between us is sometimes a very good thing.” He smirked. “And I admit I occasionally miss America.”
“So come to Los Angeles.” She merely eyed him. “What?”
“It seems that would be the stuff of dire consequences.”
“Why?” She raised her eyebrows. “No, it’s a fair question,” he insisted. “Angel’s married, Wesley’s harmless, I’m... not as forward anymore.”
“I disagree.” At his quizzical expression she added: “You managed to pawn a kiss off me within ten minutes of sitting down!”
He smiled in fake self-consciousness.
“I hear Tokyo’s lovely this year,” he smoothly redirected the subject.
She let it slide, replying:
“Too far.”
“Good.”
She rested her eyes in his, smiling a little.
¤
“Alright, you have to tell me where the coat is,” she said.
He looked down at the black trousers and white T he was wearing.
“I left it at home,” he answered.
“Oh,” she said.
“You thought it was more complicated than that?”
“Well, you seemed so attached to it.”
He smiled.
“I still am.”
“It’s gotten a bunch of holes in it, hasn’t it? So you’ve hung it on a hanger in the wardrobe and you take it out from time to time to look at it and remember those good old days when you could slip it on simple as that.”
His smile broadened.
“No,” he said. “I’m just... trying on something new.”
She choked on her drink, looking at him with big eyes.
“So, not wearing it is actually your choice? You have changed.”
“I made some of my own choices back then,” he objected.
She looked at him for a long moment, then smiled.
“Yeah, you did.”
¤
“You’re crazy!” she laughed. “You are insane. There’s nothing that beats a couch.”
“A bed!”
“No, no, no, seriously. You try to pile up the pillows, but you end up with a sore back and having to change positions. No, a couch.”
He was silent for a moment.
“A lounge chair, with footrest.”
She cocked an eyebrow.
“I think I’ve underestimated you, Mr. Kingsley.”
He smiled a crooked smile at the use of his last name.
“Always did,” he said.
“No,” she shook her head slowly. “Not always.”
¤
They had moved their chairs so that they were facing each other, Buffy having kicked off her shoes and claimed a spot for her legs between his thigh and the armrest next to it. The alcohol had placed a shimmering blur over their shared repose, and when he pulled one of her feet into his lap, his fingers beginning a massage that had her toes curl and her eyes close, she didn’t think twice about it.
“Mh, those hands,” she murmured. “Where’d you learn that?”
“Self-taught. Many hours of training on various test-subjects. Perfected it about a year ago, that subject went to delicious little pieces.” He paused. “You falling apart yet?”
She opened her eyes, smiling as she pulled her foot away before giving him a friendly kick in the stomach.
“Shut up.”
He caught her ankle and brought her foot back to its original position, nonchalantly starting the massage up again. She sunk further into her chair with a pleasure-filled sigh.
“You seeing anyone?” he wondered much too casually for it to be casual.
She had another smile on.
“I see you, does that count?”
He gave the sole of her foot a harsh squeeze and she sat up.
“Ow,” she protested, but her smile didn’t fade. “No,” she then answered his question. “I’ve no patience for dating anymore.”
“What about a cure for the itch?” he asked, his thumb sliding from her heel to her big toe and she bit her lower lip, meeting his gaze.
“Dating is as far from a cure as you can get.”
He smirked.
“Cynic.”
“Realist!”
“And what cure do you prefer?” he inquired, his hand moving to her ankle and softly sliding up her shin.
She looked at him and had a sudden flash in her head of straddling him, of feeling herself pressing down on him, her mouth hot on his. It was so strong and took her so completely off guard that she drew a breath and brought her legs away from any touch he might choose to bestow on them.
“You know, we’ve spent, what, five hours in this cozy dive, and you haven’t said anything about my shoes,” she said, reaching down and bringing them up for his viewing pleasure.
His eyes didn’t leave hers right away, and she felt she was being scrutinized.
“Pretty,” he then said.
“You didn’t even look.”
“Beautiful,” he said, eyes not leaving hers and she had a sudden thrill run through her at the expression they bore.
“They glitter,” she tried, holding the footwear up a little higher.
“But do they dance?” he asked, rising and holding a hand out to her.
She took it, getting to her feet as well. She left the shoes on her seat and they walked onto the small dance floor. There was no one else to take up space.
His hand went to the small of her back, the dress she was in being low cut and he brushed her skin lightly, making slow goose bumps spread over her arms as she raised them to put them around his neck.
When had this happened? she wondered. The crack in a conviction which had sustained her for a very long time: that their meeting would be platonic and that nothing would remain of the old, because they would be new, they would have started afresh. And yet now there was no denying that this overwhelming pull, which he had always had on her, was still there. That small touch had opened the door to it, and though she had thought her desire for him dead and buried, here it was, shaking the ashes off and spreading its dazzling sensation through her.
The way his body moved, his scent, this nearness...
She had to keep her hands from roaming over a territory they had once so easily claimed.
The song finished.
She looked up at him.
“It’s getting late,” she mumbled.
“I suppose,” he said. “For you.”
“Yeah. I’ve got sort of an early flight tomorrow. So, I really should...”
“Get going?”
She nodded.
“Alright, I’ll walk you to your hotel.”
“You know you don’t have to.”
“I know.”
She smiled.
“Okay, then.”
The night air was heavy with the smell of flowers. The sound of cicadas seemed to be echoing from every patch of green. The sky was big and black and beautiful, little dots of glimmering white obscuring its depth and making it seem closer than it was.
Buffy looked at him as they walked.
“Thank you,” she said.
He turned his head to her.
“For?”
“The dance.”
“My pleasure.”
“And tonight. I wanted the company.”
“Me too.” He gave a nod to something ahead, asking: “That your hotel?”
She looked up and was taken aback at how quickly they had reached it.
“Yes,” she said.
They proceeded up the few steps bringing them into the lobby. Its lighting was soft and the interior was old, but quaint.
“Nice,” Spike said.
“You don’t have to take me to my door, you know,” she remarked as she pushed the button for the elevator.
“I know,” he repeated and again she smiled.
She had the suction of expectation in the pit of her stomach as they stepped into the contraption, but she tried to disregard it as they began the ascent. She ran through at least a dozen things to say on the ride up to the forth – and top – floor, but discarded them all as too trite. When the doors opened she stepped out and walked five doors down, finding her key in her pocketbook and keeping her hands from shaking slightly as she brought the key into the lock. Turning it she opened the door and stepped inside. As soon as his hand placed itself at her waist she knew what was going to happen.
She turned around and he stepped into her, pressing her to the wall behind her, and in one fluid motion he was close and his lips caught hers hungrily. Her heart was fluttering like a caught bird between her ribs, the taste of him sending her into a frenzy of emotions of want and lust and it was all stronger than she had felt in much too long.
They undressed each other haphazardly, moving into the room. She splayed herself on the bed while he pulled her thong off with a leisure she was far from feeling. And then he was on top of her, his skin against hers, his mouth, his tongue, his hands, and he entered her, filling her, making her catch her breath and bury her hands in his hair, wanting to be even nearer, wanting to melt away in this rapture. They moved together, entwined, slowly reaching the peak together. She was shaking. They were kissing, and couldn’t stop.
¤
She woke at half past ten, opening one eye and glancing at the clock on the nightstand. She was awake in the next blink. Her head pounded its protest, but she dragged herself off the bed and stumbled across the room to the bathroom, glancing over at Spike, stretched out and still asleep. Smiling a little she grabbed a fresh set of clothes and closed the door of the bathroom behind her.
She washed up, not believing she had slept so late. Had she even set the alarm?
She couldn’t have slept more than four hours, and she looked like it. Frowning at her reflection she pulled her fingers through her hair and began collecting her toiletries. Bringing them into the bedroom she managed to get her suitcase open with one foot, letting the things fall as gently as she could into it, and then beginning to collect her clothes. She hadn’t brought much; it had only been a four day trip.
“Hey.”
She turned her head to him and stopped what she was doing to grant him a smile.
“Hey,” she said. “It’s not how it looks.”
He smirked at that, putting his arms under his head and raising his eyebrows.
“You’re not packing frantically so you won’t miss your flight?”
“Well, if you’re gonna be a smart-ass,” she rolled her eyes.
It didn’t take long for her to finish, and once she did she came up to sit on the edge of the bed next to him. He reached up a hand and brushed aside a few locks of her hair, touching her cheek and she leaned forward, kissing him softly. The kiss deepened and she groaned in meek objection as he put his arms around her and rolled her over on her back.
“I have to go,” she mumbled.
“Five minutes.”
Her eyebrows rose, unconvinced.
“Alright, then, ten.”
“No!” she giggled, his mouth against hers once more. “Spike,” she said firmly.
He muttered, rolling onto his back and to her vexation releasing her. The sad truth still remained that she really had to leave. She sat up, scooting to the edge of the bed.
“This was... nice,” he said, making her look at him with a newborn smile on her mouth. “Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime.”
“You never know,” she replied.
Two hours later she was at the small airport, and the memory of the night prior was like a soft, warm, fuzzy blanket. Like a brightly shining secret that fit perfectly in her palm, and she could close her fingers around it, and hide it, or she could look at it.
She was looking at it.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Hello to each and everyone!
I'm a novis at this site and I just hope this story might be something you'll approve of and perhaps even *gulp* enjoy. ;)
I've been posting at ff.net for a long time, but thought I should spread my wings and dare a leap, so here I am - um - broadening my horizons? :) Do pray you'll like this little fic. There will be more chapters to it. The summary really says it all, so, I hope you'll continue down!
All My Love - Annie.
I'm a novis at this site and I just hope this story might be something you'll approve of and perhaps even *gulp* enjoy. ;)
I've been posting at ff.net for a long time, but thought I should spread my wings and dare a leap, so here I am - um - broadening my horizons? :) Do pray you'll like this little fic. There will be more chapters to it. The summary really says it all, so, I hope you'll continue down!
All My Love - Annie.