XXXXXXXXXX
The mansion seemed quieter that night since Angelus could not hear his grandchilde’s rock music or the pounding of weights down in the gym as the senior vampire banged on Drusilla nightly. Ever since Spike had been sired, he had been territorial about her.
Angel couldn’t blame him. He had wanted to keep Darla under lock and key since he had been turned. If other men so much as looked at her funny, he usually showed them no mercy when he ripped their throats apart.
**Of course,** Angel thought as he grinned broadly, **I showed them no mercy no matter what they did.**
He wasn’t even sure what had driven him to really seek Dru’s bed the first time they banged each other. Perhaps it was his altercation with Darla; perhaps it was that he liked variety, and didn’t want to be a one-woman guy, unlike his grandchilde. Or, perhaps he just loved bugging the hell out of William the Bloody. One had to admit, watching the wheelchair bound vampire squirm in his seat whenever Angel nuzzled Dru’s neck or reminded Spike that he couldn’t keep up with his elders was more fun than creating a massacre.
Angelus’ features twisted in an evil grin. He’d find William, tie him up with special magically induced chains that the younger idiot couldn’t break, and treat him to a ringside show of riding Dru.
“Daddy!” Dru said. “Are we going out to feed now?”
Angelus took Drusilla’s hand. She had taken great pains with the white gown she wore and her blood red lipstick. She’d even combed her hair after her last hair pulling frenzy.
His dark orbs roamed over her body with a long lingering gaze as he responded, “No, not yet. I have something else in mind. Go get Spike and bring him here.”
Drusilla smiled a sadistic grin. She wasn’t sure what her sire had planned, but if it involved William’s humiliation, the demon in her was all for it. The raven haired female vamp went to the room he occupied when she shagged her Daddy and stopped short when she saw the rumpled sheets.
Her eyes widened as she realized that Spike was fully mobile, and her nose told her that the scent that was on his sheets was not as strong, an indication that he had been gone from his room for quite some time.
“Daddy!!” Drusilla wailed. Angel ran into the room. His eyes scanned the bedroom, and then, as he reached the same verdict that Dru had, his face was one of barely disguised fury.
“Oh, my William has flown! He’s gone to toy with the other doxies in the park!” Drusilla moaned. Angel’s angry eyes turned on his childe. He snatched some of her hair and yanked hard.
“Now, you listen to me, Little Miss Moan and Groan!” Angel rebuked. Drusilla’s eyes glanced in his direction. “We’ll find Sit and Spin, and we’ll drag his bony ass back here for some good, old fashioned torturing for running out without telling us! Now use that power of yours and see if you can spot him!” He let her go. Drusilla stared at Angel, then concentrated.
“He dances close to the light,” she told him. “He’ll be enveloped in it before long!”
Angelus realized what that reference meant. Spike had gone out to find the Slayer. The elder vamp hadn’t exactly planned things that way, but if they killed each other, so much the better.
**Of course, knowing Spike, something could go wrong,** Angelus thought.
Just because the bleached blond had killed two Slayers didn’t mean that three times would necessarily be the charm. And, anyway, Buffy belonged to Angel. No way in Hell was he gonna let a pup like William the Bloody destroy his ex.
**If Spike’s after her, and she’s looking for him...**Angel thought. He mentally snapped his fingers as his mind seized on their possible location. **Maybe I won’t need Dru’s powers after all!**
“Come on, Dru,” Angel instructed, not waiting for her to catch up as he walked out into the night. “Let’s go Back to School.” Drusilla followed her Vampire Dad’s wide strides as he went toward Sunnydale High.
XXXXXXXXXXXX
About fifteen minutes after Angel and Drusilla’s departure, Buffy reached the mansion. She looked everywhere for the trio of vampires, but saw that they had left.
“Great!” she cried angrily, kicking the wall in frustration. She tried dialing Amy’s number on her cell phone.
“Hello?” a male voice answered. Here’s hoping this spell can’t reach guys over the phone, Buffy thought.
“Hi, is Amy there?” she asked into her receiver.
“No, I’m afraid not,” the male voice answered. “This is her father. Can I take a message?”
“I...” Buffy started saying, then she clammed up, not wanting to give her name lest it produce a reaction.
“No,” she said. “It wasn’t important. I can call back later.”
She hung up, hoping that Amy would return home soon, and glad that at least she didn’t have to deal with Amy’s dad’s lovey-doveyness. The Chosen One was about to go see if Giles and Xander had managed not to kill each other when she sensed a presence returning to the mansion.
Buffy had learned a few things in her short time as the Resident Slayer of the World. One was how to sense vampires and demons; the other was that, like people having distinct scents and other unique characteristics, revenants had their own signatures.
Angel had a very low mental note: constant and steady, like a quietly beating toy drum in the distance. Spike, on the other hand, was a much louder echo: a kettle drum, or a rapidly beating bonga drum at a concert, passionate, invasive; demanding to be heard.
It was that mental sound she heard now.
The object of her impressions swaggered boldly toward the vampires’ nest, cigarette in his mouth, a smile dancing on his lips. She watched from her vantage point as he stopped short, his eyes narrowing into slits as he looked around.
“Slayer...?” he said, strolling closer to where Buffy was.
“Damn,” Buffy whispered softly.
Never one to refuse a challenge, she stepped out as the peroxide vampire came into view. For a moment, both enemies regarded each other; then, Spike’s traditional smirk glided into place.
“So, we’ve go’ a gate crasher,” he said, extinguishing his cigarette by crushing it slowly when it dropped to the ground. His message was clear to Buffy that she would be next. The Slayer chose not to dwell on that message.
“More like a partygoer,” Buffy rejoined, whipping out her stake, “and here’s the party favor!”
She went for Spike’s heart, but the vampire easily sidestepped the weapon and let loose a flying punch in her direction. Buffy deflected his fist, aiming a punch of her own with her one free hand.
“Oohh, fight in you!” Spike teased, morphing into his game face, “gotta love it!” He knocked the stake out of her hand, and the pair traded punches and blows, Buffy aiming for the high ground, and Spike for the low.
When he saw an opening, he reached out and grabbed the Slayer, pinning her against the wall of one of the many rooms in the mansion.
Buffy struggled, trying to free herself, but Spike had her pinned tight for the moment. His human face slid into place, giving nothing away as he stared at her.
“What’s the matter, Spike?” Buffy asked hotly. “Dru confuse you again?”
At the mention of Dru’s name, Spike’s anger returned. Buffy saw his face shift into its vampire ridges yet again. She braced herself as much as she could for his attack, but it never came. His lips came down on hers with the force of a hurricane. As he shifted his body a little during his kissing, Buffy wanted to show him once and for all who was in control by flinging him off, but she found her Slayer training had abandoned her. All she could think about was giving as good as she had gotten.
Her arms wound around his hair, and her lips captured his boldly. Buffy pulled Spike closer to her waiting body, and her leg slid over his. The vampire’s demon pressed harder against her, letting her feel his hardness down there at full force. His kiss grew rougher, more insistent; but rather than throwing him off, Buffy let him have full access. A tiny moan escaped her mouth. Spike pulled away abruptly. His human visage was clearly visible. She looked into his beautiful blue eyes.
“Slayer...” he breathed, “what have you done to me?”
Buffy wanted to answer that it was just a spell gone wrong, that he would be normal as soon as she could locate Amy or Angel, or someone else who could take his desire away, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, without taking Spike with her for the ride.
He let part of her red leather jacket drop, exposing her neck and beyond it her black tank top, revealing part of her golden shoulder. She felt him nibbling on her neck at its collar bone; his teeth teasing; his lips, though cool, leaving a freezer burn in their wake.
“Spiiiike...” she groaned. He let his arm slide along her leg.
“Relax, kitten,” he purred, “I’m gonna make you meow.”
With that, Spike’s hand found her skirt and, not breaking his nibbling on her neck, lifted it up. One arm lowered her tank even further. Seeing the prize he wanted, Spike abandoned her shoulder and collarbone to suck her nipple. Buffy did meow then; not the mewl of an innocent kitten, but a low, throaty roar urging him on.
“You think that’s good, pet, wait’ll you feel THIS!” Spike insisted.
His hand found her panties beneath her skirt. He scrunched them aside and let his fingers explore. William the Bloody’s face drifted to her opposite side, where he licked the other side on her shoulder. Her pulse sang out to him as it thundered. The aroma of her desire urging him on, Spike plunged his fingers into her waiting moistness.
“Spike, what’re you....ooohhh....” she said, as she felt him thrusting his digits in and out. Unbidden, her leg rose higher.
“Tha’s what you wanted, innit, baby?” he cooed, enjoying her reaction. His mind seized on a plan as he morphed into his vampire face.
“Slayer...” he began. Buffy pulled him closer, feeling herself on the edge of coming.
“Buffy,” she demanded, letting her finger reach whatever bare skin of his she could. Now, as her fingers skimmed his nipple through the cotton of his t shirt, it was the blond revenant’s time to moan.
“Buffy,” Spike agreed readily, adding, “MY Buffy.”
He dropped below her line of vision. The Chosen One’s eyes glazed over with sexual tension as she awaited her release.
Spike let his lips roam along her exposed and not exposed parts of her luscious body. “I want you to be my first,” he said.
He reached the milky pool between her legs. His tongue lavished her clit, sucking and tugging. Too far gone at that time, Buffy came all over his mouth.
“That was...amazing!” she said, gasping.
Angel had never brought her to heights like that! How ironic it was that it took a dead person to make her feel so alive! It was then that she realized what Spike had said...his first? His first what? His first sexual partner or his first siring? She gently pushed him away.
“Spike...” she said. When he moved back to her lips and started kissing again, Buffy pushed him off again.
“Spike,” she said, more in a commanding tone.
“Wha’?” he asked, looking at her, his eyes glassy like an addict’s.
“That...what you said...about being your first,” Buffy reiterated.
Spike recovered a little, chuckling and saying, “Well, actually, you wouldn’t be my firs’, but, you would be my best.”
Despite every thought that they should not continue down the path they were forging, Buffy couldn’t help but be a little flattered that Spike wanted her that way. In some ways, he was her first, despite the session with Angel. It astounded her how, in such a short time, she’d come to think about what should be termed love making between herself and her first boyfriend simply as “a session”, like she was on a psychiatrist’s couch or something.
She didn’t need Slayer senses to tell her that Spike would be profoundly different. His next words, however, made her freeze.
“Not since me mum have I sired anyone,” Spike told her, moving his lips up to her neck. “You would like it; I promise. Livin’ forever; never dyin’. Best part: you’d never have to let anyone else, not even your destiny as a Slayer, dictate to you what you should do.”
He was about to bite her when she said softly, “No.” Spike pulled back, his yellow eyes staring at her.
“No?” he asked, blinking in confusion.
“No, I can’t,” Buffy responded, pushing him back. “First of all, we don’t know how it would affect me, being the Slayer and all. And, as tempting as that sounds, do you really think I would be grateful to you when I see all of my friends and family getting wrinkly and pruny while I’m the fairest of them all?”
“Buffy...” Spike warned. Buffy would not be put off. She had to tell him about his “condition”.
“And third, you don’t know what’s happened to you,” the Slayer told him. Spike studied her, looking at her as though she had lost her mind.
“You’re under a spell, Spike,” Buffy said, determined. “If you...if we...really knew what this was that we have, and what this could mean, I might at least be with you, but you don’t know. When it gets lifted, you’ll go back to wanting to kill me, and I’ll go back to wanting to stake you.”
Spike pouted. “So, I can’t,” she repeated with more force. Spike stared at Buffy; and then, his eyes grew stormy.
“So, you’re pushin’ me aside, is tha’ it?” he asked, his tone demanding. “I offer you the greatest gift one vamp can give a human and you just REJECT ME?!”
Buffy was instantly contrite. “Spike, I didn’t mean...” she said honestly since she knew it wasn’t his fault that he felt the way he did.
“You think this is all a game, is that it?” he cried. “Jus’ like Dru! Taunt me, tease me, make me think you care, or at least that you’re interested, then when I give you a snog or a shag, you just TOSS ME TO THE BLOODY CURB?!”
Spike wanted in that moment to kill her; to send her to the Hell she was condemning him to. Bitch!! He thought angrily. Beyond that though, was abject hurt; and making its way closer, the desire to see justice done. He was the wronged party; he was the one who suffered, and he would see to it that Buffy paid through the nose. But he couldn’t look at her now. The pain he had welling up inside him stung too much. He walked away just then, not caring if she followed.
“Spike, wait!” Buffy cried, hurrying to catch up with him.
“Sod off!” he snapped, walking through the mansion and out the front door.
When it was obvious Spike was walking in an opposite direction from Sunnydale High, Buffy knew that he’d have to wait. She really wanted to talk, but Xander and Giles needed tending to, and if Angelus knew anything about the goings on, he might head there too.
**Besides, he’ll be okay until I get back!** Buffy thought. She pushed away the guilt she felt and headed for the library.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Yes, I know...you want to see a little “Spuffy”! Dear readers, you are about to get your wish! Please let me know how I’m doing! Also, Amy has a father in this story, since it is an Alternate Universes tale.