Grausam had no clue what was happening to him.
One moment he and Zinken were searching for the perfect heart to add to their collection, and the next, he was waking up in a very sterile, blindingly white room. He tried to move his arms, but they were restrained in some way. He couldn’t tell because his head was strapped down to the table, and moving his head was out of the question.
Stupid mortals. Didn’t they know he couldn’t die? Not by human means at least. What did they think they would accomplish by keeping them here? Did they think to stop the culling of hearts just because they had captured two of Die Herren? Grausam laughed inside his head, his face giving away nothing but a perpetual evil grin.
Furcht, Geist, and Nacht would continue until all seven hearts were obtained, regardless if the group was complete. Then, they would slip out of the town as quietly as they had slipped in. It would continue in much the same fashion as it had for hundreds of years, each year a different place in the world. And although this was the first time any of them had been caught, Grausam doubted much would come of it.
But that was before Maggie Walsh entered the room.
Behind her, Riley dragged the Vocoder machine, so that Walsh could voice her questions to the creature. She checked the straps that held the being immobile on the table, tightening a few, and then sat at the machine to start typing.
“What are you?” the machine quizzed.
Grausam tried to turn his head to look at the woman, but it was no use. What could he tell her, if he could speak? Grausam, like the rest of his group, had no vocal cords. If Riley or Walsh had bothered to look, they would have known that questioning the Gentlemen was quite useless.
Most humans thought that their little group were monsters or demons, but what they really were, no one knew…not even Die Herren themselves. They just existed, obtaining hearts once a year to sustain themselves, and otherwise, stayed out of sight. Their straightjacket lackeys were the muscle behind the group, holding their victims down so they could carve out the precious hearts. Without them, though, Die Herren succumbed to anything except death.
Walsh raised an expectant eyebrow and waited for the ghoul to answer. When none was forthcoming, she nodded to Riley, who was standing beside the table Grausam was on. He pulled out a stun gun, held the device in front of Grausam’s eyes and depressed the trigger, showing him what would happen to him if he didn’t answer.
The small arc of electricity made Grausam’s eyes widen a bit. They had all been caught in rainstorms before, Nacht even being struck by lightening. It had taken him months to recover; the stench of his rotten skin mending itself was not at all pleasant. This minuscule bit of static could do minor damage, he surmised, but nothing that could come close to what happened with Nacht.
But then, he’d never met Riley Finn.
Again, Walsh typed the question, “What are you?”
The constant grin left Grausam’s face as Riley stared down at him. There was a seething hatred festering there and an emptiness that was consuming the human. His heart would be too rotten to take, and he guessed the man had little more than a few years left to his life if he kept going down the path he had chosen.
Not getting an answer, Riley lined up the electrode probes on the creature’s body where the shoulder and the neck met. He then pulled the trigger and 50,000 volts shot through Grausam’s body, causing him to jerk and twist. This wasn’t the regular taser that the grunts used; this taser had a peak open circuit arcing voltage of at least 400,000 volts. And Riley was dry tasing, a pain compliance technique that had long been outlawed by the government…but still used anyways.
Feeling rather malevolent, Riley turned the voltage up to 120,000 volts, and spittle started flying from Grausam’s mouth as he silently screamed in agony. Just as the demon’s eyes were about to bulge from his sockets, Riley turned off the device and backed away from the smoking body.
“Now. Tell us what you are,” Maggie typed after she waved the smoke away from her nose.
Riley leaned over to gauge the ability of the being to talk and shook his head in the negative to Walsh. Grausam had completely passed out. Riley then snapped his fingers indicating Maggie needed to observe something. She came over and Riley pulled apart the creature’s lips. The narrow metal teeth had fused together from the electrical current that had slammed through his body.
Walsh went back to her computer and frowned at Riley. “Don’t use so much voltage next time. I want them to be able to talk. He’s useless now. Bring in the other one and put this one in the lab for further study.”
Riley grimaced as he unbuckled the demon and hefted it over his right shoulder. He had a feeling that the other one would be just as silent.
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“Why don’t you take a bath? It might help with the headache,” Willow wrote on her board as she sat at the kitchen table with Spike.
Spike indicated that he wanted to use the board and he began writing on it once he received it from Willow. “Do you feel any different, Red?”
They began passing the board back and forth. “I feel…lonely again,” she wrote with a sad smile.
Spike took the chance and patted her hand. “Not alone…Glinda is good people. Would make a good Scooby!” he wrote with a large smile.
Willow peered around the corner and into the living room at a dozing Tara. Yeah, she was awesome to the Nth degree and she would definitely try and get the gang to accept her. “She IS pretty nifty, isn’t she?”
Spike nodded his head in agreement. “My headaches are getting worse, luv,” Spike wrote and pinched the bridge of his nose. They used to be far between, but now they were a dull constant, with episodes of sharp biting pain pressing against his eyes.
“I can’t fix this, Spike. I wish I could. We need to find those Commandos and figure out how to get this junk out of your head,” she wrote and hesitantly reached out to touch his face and look into his eyes.
They were becoming sunken in again, but now an angry red was creeping across the whites of his eyes, making it look like he was crying tears of blood. Willow pointed to his eyes and raised her eyebrows in question.
“My vision is becoming hazy,” he admitted after a very long moment. Even with the Gem, his eyesight was taking a beating, literally, from all the shocks to his brain. He was surprised that he had any functions left at all.
“Have you slept much?” Willow wrote as she observed the far away look Spike had on his face.
“Some.” He thought about what he was going to write next, but shrugged and wrote it anyway. “When Buffy is there, it’s easier to find rest.”
Willow nodded silently. A niggling of despair crept up her spine at how she would sleep so peacefully next to Oz, compared to the lost feeling she had when she started waking up…without him. No. She mustn’t succumb to the forlorn aching that threatened to overwhelm her if she let it.
“Do you miss being evil?” Willow wrote with a smirk.
An indignant look conquered Spike’s face. “I’m STILL evil!” he wrote and underlined the whole phrase several times.
Willow just shook her head and chuckled silently. “Tara and I are going to head back to the dorm soon. Will you be ok?”
A brief sense of panic drifted through Spike, but he shoved it away with a vengeance. “M’fine, pet…you two keep safe though, yeah?”
“Do you want us to stay for a while? Until someone comes?”
Spike looked away. If he knew Angel and Buffy – and boy, did he ever – they were probably still squaring off with one another. And he wanted no party to it, either in her mind, or witnessing it first hand. He absentmindedly rubbed his chest area, wondering when the constant ache that had set up shop there, would go away.
“No, you two go…” he wrote and stood up.
“I still say you should take a really hot bubble bath…it will help ease the tension,” Willow wrote and finally placed the placard around her neck, following Spike into the living room.
He reconsidered her idea, and to be honest, it sounded heavenly. He nodded in agreement, and shooed Willow and a still sleepy Tara out the door, watching them meander back towards the UC Sunnydale campus. He stood for a few moments, soaking up the sunshine, laying his aching head against the warm wood that framed the door.
He closed his eyes and his thoughts began to drift to Buffy. Her golden hair…her stupid shampoo commercial hair. Her lovely jade-green eyes that trusted him fully, even if it was just that one time. The way she let him tickle her in the dark of night. He never realized that tears had started creeping down his face until one hit his upper lip and he opened his watery eyes.
‘Fuck!’ he shouted silently to the world. He slammed the door and stomped up the stairs to the bathroom, shucking his clothes along the way.
By the time he reached the room, he was completely naked and relishing the idea of soaking his weary body in a tub full of hot suds. He looked around the edge of the tub to see if any bottles indicated that they could be used as bubble bath. Spying none, he started looking at the bottles that were there, hoping he could find somewhat of a neutral scent.
A familiar scent caught his attention and he grabbed the bottle. Honey and lavender. Perfect. That would just be asking for heartache. Nothing like drowning in the object of one’s affection’s scent to make you completely miserable. He opened the cap and was bombarded with the smell of Buffy. Yeah, he was up for a little torture.
Spike turned the spigot to the hottest setting he could handle. He may be the undead and cold, but he didn’t want to boil either. Steam started wafting upwards and he inhaled deeply. Flipping the cap lid, he poured a generous amount of the liquid soap in the stream of the running water and watched as the foamy bubbles started generating.
Once the tub was filled to his liking, he turned off the water and eased down into the basin, sighing with ecstasy as the heat wrapped itself around him. He had to give Red credit; she knew what she was talking about when she suggested he do this. He’d have to listen to her more often. But his last conscious thought was not of Willow. It was of Buffy, as he closed his eyes, and began dreaming of a golden Slayer…that cared for him.
*********************************************************************************************
Buffy ran.
She passed people in quick succession she knew she should stop and help, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. The streets were flooded with confused people, more so than even yesterday. In passing, she noticed a few paper headlines that screamed for her attention: “Brutal Slaying” and “Fifteen Year Old Stabbed – Heart Missing!” finally compelled her to stop and look at the paper.
Panting and gasping for breath, she read the headlines as quickly as she could. “Jeffrey Grooms 15, of Mascoutah, IL was found dead in his UC Sunnydale dorm room 118. He suffered massive blood loss stemming from an opening in his chest cavity. The perpetrator then removed his heart, to what purpose is unknown. No evidence of the organ remains.”
Buffy sent a grateful thanks to the newspaper editor that there were no pictures to show the public this gruesome scene. It should have saddened her about the loss of Jeffrey’s life, but she had never met the boy…and now she was glad of it. She tossed the paper back on the pile she had snatched it from and continued on to her mother’s house.
It was near noon when Buffy finally walked in the back door of her house, having stopped several times on her way over to help with crowd control or some other pressing issue. She tried the telepathy route again, but got no answer, making her frustrated beyond belief.
She crept through the house, noticing the empty cocoa mugs in the kitchen indicating that at least Spike had made it to the house. She then made her way to the bottom of the stairs and noticed something odd…Spike’s duster. Glancing up the steps, she noticed other articles of clothing and grinned lopsidedly. Yeah, he was here all right…probably naked as a jay-bird…
Buffy’s brain went into overdrive at that thought. Naked Spike…in her house…upstairs…no one else in the house, at least not that she could tell anyways. She unconsciously licked her lips and tiptoed as quietly as she could up the carpeted steps.
Reaching the top step, the wood creaked underneath her weight, and she cursed. But she heard nothing that her presence showed up on Spike’s vamp radar. Stilling for a moment, she then followed the trail of clothes again, as it ended right at the bathroom door. It was cracked and she could smell her body soap and feel the steam drifting lazily out into the hallway.
Buffy risked a peek around the door and nearly dropped to her knees with compassion. Poor Spike looked so uncomfortable in the position he had propped himself up in. Tons of bubbles floated around his body, hiding almost everything, except his shoulders and head, from view. Instead of choosing the little tub pillow to rest his head on, he had laid it up against the cool tile, apparently dozing off.
Buffy entered the room silently and shut the door behind her. God he looked so beautiful and pitiful at the same time, her heart lurching violently in her chest. She laid down the clothes she had collected and removed her own light jacket, finally sitting beside the tub rim.
Afraid she would startle him, Buffy dipped her fingers in the still warm water and began making splashy noises, so that he would wake up. When this got no response, she sighed and began lightly touching his now warm skin. That got a reaction.
What Buffy saw was Spike shift slightly beneath the fizzing bubbles. What she felt was his hand clamp down on her wrist to stop her exploration. He slowly turned his face around to hers and he stared at her with fathomless eyes. Knowing he had nothing to lose, he guided her still submerged hand to his now engorged cock, wrapping her fingers around it. He then released her and waited for her reaction.
Buffy’s eyes grew soft and finally closed as she tightened her grip on his hard length. He wanted her…and she wanted him, had wanted him for a while now. Was it wrong to get involved with a vampire again? Probably. Did she care? A little, but not enough to throw away the feelings Spike was creating in her. She thought back to the memory Angel had stolen from her and her resolved strengthened. She knew Spike would never do that to her.
And it made all the difference.
Buffy released his cock, and she knew if he had a voice, he would be whimpering in protest. His gaze never left hers as she stood, watching her unbutton her shirt slowly. She didn’t look away or look scared. In fact, she smiled in a slow and sexy way, hoping it looked like a blatant invitation.
Spike’s body tightened in anticipation at what Buffy’s body was suggesting. Never in his wildest dreams could he imagine this scenario with the Slayer. He pushed away some of the bubbles that had drifted towards his chest and dipped his hand below the surface, stroking his eager cock in full view of Buffy’s eyes.
Which were widened in surprise at how large he was. She licked her lips and wondered if he would actually fit. But then, she thought, water always made things look distorted…yes, that’s what it must be.
She shrugged her nervousness away as her shirt floated to the floor. She then unbuttoned her jeans, turning around to slowly push them down her hips, giving Spike a tantalizing view of her thong covered ass.
Spike’s body hardened with want, his eyes molten with heat as his gaze devoured her, anticipation curling throughout his entire being. He shifted himself to his knees in the tub and his hips broke the surface, showing Buffy that her water distortion theory was way off the mark. He was just as large, if not more so, than he looked under water. Spike raised his eyebrows in an expression that totally screamed ‘See? I got it baby!’
Buffy rolled her eyes. Men…they were all the same, no matter the species. She had shed all her clothes except her thong and bra as she stepped closer to the tub, baiting Spike with the scent of her arousal. He let go of his shaft long enough to reach out and caress her hip, twisting his fingers in the strap of her thong…then he ripped it away.
He followed suit with her bra, which earned him a glare and a silent promise to buy her another set of the foolish material. Like he would ever let her wear anything that kept him from her heat…like he could ever let her go. Sensing morose thoughts intruding, he pulled Buffy to him urgently and buried his face in the indentation of her hipbone, softly nipping the sweet skin there.
Buffy closed her eyes and let her head fall back from the exquisite emotions that were surging through her. She threaded her fingers through his damp curls and she swore she could have heard him…purr? She didn’t have a chance to test it again, as he pulled her into the bathtub with him, standing as he did so. The water sluiced down his magnificent abs, his jutting masculinity bobbing and waiting for her attention.
They were now skin to skin and she never felt more alive in her life. Ironic that it would be the undead that could give her this sensation, but not so much when she considered who the undead was. She remembered something that Angel had said once and she now took it to heart. Angel had said that the Judge never touched Spike because he reeked of humanity.
So that’s where it came from… the light in his eyes, the determination to be a part of life, whether it wants him or not. His humanity. Thinking back, she had to agree. Spike had never truly lost his humanity…and it made him beautiful.
Spike stood and waited for Buffy to make the first move, because this first time would be all her doing…and the next time would be all his…and the next after that. He was shocked, however, when Buffy lightly touched his thighs, caressing and urging him closer.
Buffy felt the tremor that ran through Spike and she smiled seductively. Kneeling down, she moved her fingertips languidly over his sculpted thighs, her breath warm and tempting along his heavy shaft. Looking up at his face to make sure he was watching her, she stuck out her tongue and slowly caressed his velvet tip, dipping into the weeping slit.
If Spike could talk, he would be yelling, “BLOODY HELL!” His stomach muscles clenched as her mouth closed around him, tight and moist. Needing to do something with his hands, he caught her hair within his fists and dragged her even closer to him. He reveled in the feel of her fingers digging into his ass as she tried to draw him in deeper. Her pert breasts bouncing against his thighs heightened the pleasure she was already giving him.
He knew it was time to stop her ministrations when she began swallowing around his hot staff, causing him to grit his teeth in order to not spill himself like a teenager. He pulled her head back and stared down at her, shaking his head in the negative, which caused her to pout. Oh god, that lip…that lip she had shown him the night she had launched herself into his arms, drunk as a skunk. He pressed a shushing finger to her lips and pulled her to a standing position, both of them panting with desire.
Even though they couldn’t speak, they could breathe…which meant they could at least whisper, now that the telepathy was no longer available to them. Spike caressed her bright red cheeks and tenderly placed a kiss on her plump lips. Breaking away so she could catch her breath, Spike grasped her face between his hands and looked deep into her eyes.
This was too important to Spike, a man that had stayed with an insane vampire for over a century because he loved her. He didn’t want a pity fuck, or a mindless shag-a-thon session…he wanted Buffy. He wanted her heart. Looking in her mossy green eyes, he pleaded. “Care for me,” he whispered slowly.
Tears filled her eyes and her bottom lip quivered as she nuzzled into his palm. She didn’t need to say any words as she nodded her head vigorously, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. Spike closed his eyes in relief as he pressed kisses on her damp face.
He startled when he felt Buffy’s fingers wrap around his cock once more. Turning his face to her, he saw the challenge in her eyes and smiled with his tongue behind his front teeth, eyebrows waggling. It made Buffy melt and she nearly went limp in his arms…the perfect opportunity for Spike to explore her creamy lushness.
His mouth traveled down her throat, suckling the mark he had made days ago. It tingled and Buffy’s body went rigid with passion, clenching her hands in his hair. Then his mouth was on her breast, his tongue circling one puckered nipple, and she was lost.
She felt so small under his large palms, her skin warm and slick with perspiration from the moisture in the room and her own sweat. He explored her everywhere, his fingers finally finding her wet, hot center. He pushed one inside her cunny, watching her eyes as her body responded with a fresh wave of liquid desire. He then added a second finger as he scraped her breast with his teeth, never puncturing the soft flesh. Spike could feel her muscles start to clench around him, velvet and hot. At this point, Spike really cursed the fucking Gentlemen and their mute spell, because he would have really have liked to hear Buffy scream his name in release. But he would have to be content with watching her face, watching it contort in sweet agony with La Petite Mort.
Though she couldn’t voice her scream, to Buffy, it was just as powerful. She clutched Spike’s shoulder as she spun out of control, a terrible and fabulous ride that went on for what seemed like forever. She panted in exhaustion and laid her head on Spike’s sturdy shoulder.
“Thank you,” he heard her whisper and he smiled like any self-assured man would.
Spike finally lifted his head and pulled her body closer, wrapping his hands around her hips, and lifted her. She squirmed somewhat when her back hit the cool tile wall, but soon relaxed when he guided her legs around his slim waist. “Want you, Buffy,” he whispered urgently in the crux of her neck.
She nuzzled his cheek and panted, getting very close to his ear. “Care for me,” she repeated his words, heartfelt with deep emotions.
Spike stared at this wonderful woman. His woman. “Always,” he mouthed silently. He then pressed against her, hard and thick, seeking entrance to her paradise. He pushed aggressively, causing her body to slowly open to him, and then he sheathed himself fully in her burning heat.
The feeling was marvelous as hot velvet clutched at him, tightening around his thick cock, the friction almost unbearable. He needed to go slow this once, to stave off any ‘untimely’ release. It was easier said than done. Since they didn’t have any voices, Spike whispered in her ear, as he buried himself slowly and deeply within her moist depths. “Look at me.”
She then opened her eyes and gazed longingly into his beautiful blue intensity. Each thrust caused them both to widen their eyes in ultimate comprehension. This went beyond caring…this went beyond even liking one another or trust. This bordered on the emotion that refused to be named, by either party. As Spike’s thrusts increased, so too, did the passion that would bind them together.
He felt her body tighten in anticipation as he began to nip at the mark on her neck. Along with her rising desire, Spike began to vamp in and out as he tried to bring the beast under control.
“Please,” Buffy whispered as her nails dug into his shoulders.
Watching her carefully, he vamped out fully, licking his fangs seductively. She smiled back, and he kissed her savagely as he leaned her up against the tile wall for better leverage, his hips pistoning at a frenzied pace. Sensing her imminent release, Spike buried his fangs in her throat, renewing the mark he had created. Two long, deep pulls and Buffy crashed over the edge, dragging him with her.
They both silently screamed…in completion, and frustration at not being able to hear one another. Both of them shuddered, replete with sense of peace neither had known before. They finally looked at each other, both snickering from the tears that had emerged from the passionate encounter. Spike then wiped away the last of Buffy’s tears and kissed her softly.
“Again?” he whispered as he nipped her jaw line, Buffy shaking with silent giggles.
Buffy wrapped her limp arms around Spike’s shoulder and sighed dreamily. “Oh yeah, baby!”
By the time they had emerged from the bathroom, both blondes were pruned to the extreme.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
And so, as I promised, an update on Wednesday - sorry it's so late...BUT IT'S A LONG ONE! And very, very Spuffy! YaY me! Many pardons to Cordy and Mel (if she reads this) if I didn't spell the Gentlemen's name's correctly. They are in German - don't hurt me! MANY MANY thanks to Sotia, who dared to go to that dark place and come out unhurt on the other side - you rock girl! My twisted Sista Tina - we're gonna have fun with "SUMMER" and here is your damn smut, woman! May it live up to your wet panty measure! tee hee. Thanks to all the readers, old and new, who have taken the time to review - you guys are AWESOME! Many thanks to EdgeHead73 for the BESTEST BANNER EVER! **As a side note - simple body mechanics dictate that since we breathe, we have somewhat of a voice. Try it - you can move air through your mouth and whisper, without having a voice at all. So no flames because I have Spuffy whispers...I would do it, ergo, Spike would do it! hehehehe LMAO!