Humming to herself, she hopped down the stairs into the kitchen. “Oh, waffles! I love waffles! And hot chocolate-y goodness. Tara, you’re the best!” Buffy pressed an enthusiastic kiss on the surprised Tara’s cheek before she settled herself at the counter.
“So, umm, the evening went well?” Tara inquired, a mischievous glint in her eyes, her mouth turning up at the corners.
“Um hmm,” Buffy acknowledged with a grin, taking a cautious sip of the hot chocolate.
“Buffy, come on, spill!” Dawn put her hands on the counter and leaned forward in anticipation, eyes sparkling with excitement and curiosity.
“So, there was this fledge, who knew me from the bank office and…”
“Buffy, you’re mean,” Dawn whined and rolled her eyes. “You know what we want to hear. How was your visit at Spike’s?”
“Fine. We’re good.” Buffy dug into her heavenly smelling, crunchy waffles with fruit salad on top. How she loved to rile her sister.
“Oh, you’re such a spoil sport. You’re mean!” Dawn threw her hands into the air and turned towards Tara. “Why don’t you help me here? Please! Buffy has to tell.”
Dawn was like this alligator Buffy had seen in a documentary; once its teeth were set, it didn’t turn loose until the victim was drowned.
Buffy sighed in fake resignation. “Okay, okay, I’ll spill. We talked it out and we agreed to give it a try.”
She clapped her hands over her ears to shut out the earth shattering squeal that emanated from her little sister. “He’ll pick me up Friday night at eight for dinner. So be nice to him.” Buffy warned, not envying Spike when Dawn started her third-degree interrogation of him.
“A date! Buffy has a date! Buffy has a date with Spii-iike!” Dawn sing-songed. “This is so extracavitalistic! Wait, what will you wear?”
During breakfast they planned her dress and hair do as thoroughly as the invasion of Normandy. Dawn was determined to get everything perfect. After she finally went to school, Tara and Buffy chattered animatedly while cleaning up the dirty dishes.
“Your waffles were delicious, Tara. I don’t think that you’ll ever be allowed to leave here again. It was the best idea I’d had in ages to invite you over. Well, besides giving Spike his crumb,” Buffy blushed. Why was it to easy for her to spill her feelings to Tara?
“Everybody can see how happy he makes you. You really glow today. Wait ‘til Spike sees you, when you’re dressed up. You’ll knock him out of his Doc’s!” Tara giggled.
Buffy joined into Tara’s merry laughter. “Oh, I haven’t felt so good in… I don’t know when. That you’re so supportive, that means a lot to me.”
“I know Spike will be good for you. He really loves you,” Tara added softly.
Buffy spontaneously hugged the shy girl. “Willow is so lucky to have you. I hope that you two can solve your differences. But whatever happens, I hope you’ll always be my friend.”
In the afternoon Buffy went to the Magic Box for her usual training session with Giles. During his absence, she’d been lenient about the daily workout. It had been summer, after all, and she felt that she’d earned a break. Since Giles was back, she’d picked up the schedule again.
After a thorough warm-up with stretching and several minutes of jumping rope, Buffy set a straining pace on the punching bag. She could feel Giles assessing eyes on her every motion.
“You’re in excellent shape, my dear. We have to work a bit more on your balance, but your reflexes are perfect. That was a very impressive demonstration you and Spike gave us the other day. And to think, that you had no active memory of your abilities. Quite remarkable, really!”
Giles surprised her with his praise. He seldom did so, which made it even more precious to her.
“Yeah, that went pretty smooth... I just acted and Spike felt… like he was an extension of me... He was always… where I needed him to be.” Buffy grunted between some vicious final kicks at the large, sand-filled bag.
She picked up a towel to dry her sweaty face. “I just wish I could train with Spike. Don’t you think that would really improve my skills? Damn his chip. I really would like a sparring partner who can keep up with me.”
Giles looked at her with a thoughtful expression. “Spike’s an excellent fighter and I can see the benefit such an arrangement would have for you. He knows a lot of different techniques and incorporates them to a unique fighting style. He also mixes in whatever tricks he’s picked up on the street.”
Her Watcher hesitated for a moment. “Have you ever tried to see if he can spar with you? I mean, when there is no attempt of attack, no intent to harm you?”
Buffy thought about it while she unfastened the hand wraps from her wrists. “I can’t remember if we ever tried it. Crap, I wish we had more information on the chip and how it works.”
She inspected an opening seam on the heavy bag. “We need to update our equipment, Giles. This one will fall to pieces after a few more training sessions. They just can’t handle my strength for any length of time, sorry. A speed bag would really help too, you know, to work on my reflexes.”
Giles nodded absently. “What you said about the chip… I might check the discs we got from Adam about the Initiative. After we found the information about Project 314, we never looked at them again. Even a generic description of the chip’s modus operandi might help us to understand the principles involved in the detection of aggressive mind patterns.”
“That’s a great idea,” Buffy agreed.
Then she cleared the center area of the training room and went over to the wall to select a set of shoulder height wooden staffs for the next exercise. Giles removed his jacket and picked up his own staff. Loud clanks of attack and parry soon filled the room with a steady calming rhythm.
After a shower and a change of clothes, Buffy and Giles settled in his small office in the Magic Box to check the computer for the Initiative files. The room was cramped with scrolls, musty books and receipts from the shop. Buffy watched as the cursor blinked idly on the screen during the startup sequence.
Giles had grown more competent with computers since their early days in the high school library – he had basically been dragged, kicking and screaming, into the twentieth century. Despite a valiant effort, in the end he had lost the battle against the intrusion of modern technology into his life. He still kept books at hand, mostly for the atmosphere, he explained. Research just didn’t seem proper without the mildew-y smell of history.
Suddenly a message popped up in the middle of the screen. “Hey Giles, you’ve got a message! What’s an OWL-Service? Don’t tell me Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic really exists.”
While Giles checked the in-box of his email, he answered absentmindedly. “OWL is the Council’s new Online Watcher’s Library. You can setup a research service request to scan through the data files using a search pattern you’ve defined.”
He scanned the text and frowned. “I can’t remember setting up any request though. Maybe it’s something left over from my training?”
Buffy watched, fascinated, as Giles selected the link to his research results and expertly navigated his way through the overcrowded website.
His ‘oh my’s and ‘that’s curious’ didn’t bode well. “Giles, what’s the up? Do I need to ring the alarm bell? Call in the cavalry?”
Giles wiped this brow with a handkerchief and looked at Buffy with alarm in his eyes. “These are the results of a search I set up last week, about a warlock called ‘Rack’”.
“Rack? Like Willow’s ‘just an acquaintance’ Rack? Why would you do research on him last week? We didn’t hear his name more than a couple of days ago.” Buffy looked confused for a moment then clapped her hand on her forehead. “Oh my God! The Table Clean spell! Willow erased our memories of Rack.”
Buffy frowned at Giles. “But why wasn’t this memory restored as well, when you broke the crystal?”
Giles removed his glasses and polished them furiously before finally slipping them back on.
“My dear, we might have a serious situation here. It seems Willow didn’t use the spell just the one time. There might’ve been more occasions, certainly at least one other not accounted for.”
He looked grim as he concluded. “I believe it would be wise to take some countermeasures against Willow influencing our minds. I cannot imagine what other damage she may be able to inflict. I shall need to contact the Coven in England to find the best way to block her spells. I think as a precaution I will print out this information immediately and keep some notes around, just in case.”
Buffy watched in silence as Giles’ printer spit out heaps of paper while he pinned a large note on his board: ‘Check email for OWL-Service’.
It seems Willow had tampered with their minds, God knows how many times. What all had Buffy forgotten? What might she forget the next time when Willow decided that it was not okay for her to remember? Fear gripped her when she listed what else might be in danger of getting erased.
Buffy was overwhelmed by a smothering wave of helplessness. She was robbed of her free will, violated without any chance to fight back.
Did a rape victim feel like that?
Dawn was bored, bored, bored.
It was one hour after sunset and the streetlights flickered reluctantly into life. She’d even done all her homework and was now flipping through the channels looking for a distraction. The speakers were blaring and she had popped her feet, clad in her favorite Chucks, onto the coffee table in front of the couch. But the thrill of doing the forbidden soon went stale. If there was nobody around to scold her, what was the fun in it?
She was spooning chocolate fudge ice cream directly out of the carton, licking the escaping droplets off her fingers. Even that wasn’t satisfying. She had found the unopened treat hidden behind a bag of plain French fries and knew that Buffy had reserved it for some special occasion. She had felt evil for a moment, before boredom returned full blast.
Everybody was gone, probably having some fun – elsewhere. Tara was at the college library, having research fun and Buffy was on patrol. Judging by the beaming smile she had given Spike when he picked her up shortly after sunset, they were probably having lots of fun right now. Either killing beasties or smooching each other’s faces off. Where did that disturbing expression come from? Dawn pondered the visual for a while before sinking again into a sea of boredom.
Going over to her pal Janice’s might be nice. After one look outside the front door her heart began to race. She’d felt her skin crawling at the thought of stepping onto the dark pavement and walking down the deserted street. The pools of light from the street lamps seemed to jump at her and an icy chill ran down her spine. She had never before felt such fear at the idea of sneaking out of the house alone after dark. It came out of nowhere, without any cause, and that made it so much more frightening.
Quickly she shut the door again and retreated to the safety of the cozily lit living room for another round of kick-the-boredom.
The doorbell interrupted her idle ponderings of just why on earth someone would willingly jump into a basin filled with creepy crawlers. As Dawn peaked through the peephole, she saw Willow standing at the front porch.
“Hi Willow! Ummm, Tara’s not here.” Dawn blurted out as she opened the door.
“Hey Dawnie, I was actually looking for you. I… wanted to apologize to you for the spell, you know, with the memories and all. I thought, maybe you’d want to go with me for some ice cream – you know, to make it up to you.”
Willow looked down at the dripping container of chocolate-y goodness in Dawn’s hands. ”Or instead we could go to the movies? I met Buffy on the way over and she said it would be okay if I took you out, I mean, if you want to.”
“Oh, that’s great! I was so bored here. Let me grab my jacket.” Dawn latched happily onto the offered distraction. She quickly put the empty ice cream container on the kitchen counter and slipped into her comfy jeans jacket.
She still felt a strange uneasiness as she stepped out into the night beside the redhead, but she felt safe enough. She was with Willow after all; the red witch would know how to defend them if something were to happen. Besides, Buffy had approved it.
Easy chatter about the movies they could watch soon occupied Dawn’s mind as they walked down the silent streets. When Willow took a left turn onto a darker side street, Dawn hesitated.
“That’s not the way to the movies. Shouldn’t we go this way?” She pointed down the street where she could see the lights and commotion from the main street several crossings ahead.
“Oh, it’s alright, Dawn. I just have to pick up something first.” Willow tried to placate her.
Dawn felt the icy dread rise in her again. Why did she feel so panicky, out here alone with Willow? The redhead had messed up a spell again and all were really disappointed with her, but she was still trustable Willow, right? Buffy’s best friend in the world?
“Come on, Willow, can’t you do that later? I really don’t want to go down there.”
Briskly Willow turned towards her and Dawn thought she saw a red spark flaring up in the witch’s eyes.
“Dawn, do me a favor and just come with me. It’s important that I go there first.” Willow’s voice had changed, it was commanding now which, as usual, made Dawn balk.
“No, Willow, I don’t want to,” she stubbornly resisted, standing firm and crossing her arms over her chest. “Let’s go to the movies or take me back home.”
Willow grabbed Dawn by the elbow and propelled her down the dark side street. It hurt and the girl let out a gasp of pain and started to struggle against the witch’s hold.
“Willow, let me go! I don’t want to…” Dawn’s voice was rising in distress.
“Tranquilitas!” A harsh command from Willow clamped Dawn’s mouth shut with the force of a bear trap.
Dawn tried to shout, but she couldn’t pry her jaws open, not even a faint moan escaped. Fearfully, she continued to wriggle against the iron clasp of Willow’s hand. She hadn’t done anything wrong; what was the matter with the witch? How could she just shut her up like that?
As Dawn continued to fight against the magical constraints, Willow got more irate. She dragged Dawn along, down the dark alley, growing angrier with each step. In front of an unlit archway into a backyard, Willow suddenly stopped and pressed her palm on Dawn’s brow.
“Devincire!”
Invisible bonds folded around Dawn, pressing her arms to her side. She felt like her upper body was being cocooned in bubble wrap. She wriggled and strained, but each struggle made the bonds just wrap more tightly around her chest. Dawn’s breath was becoming more and more constricted; she felt as if she was suffocating. Panic rose like acrid bile out of the pit of her stomach.
In front of her, Willow’s chanting had revealed a shabby door which opened into a dimly lit corridor. After another sharp command from the witch, Dawn was lifted into the air and floated behind the angry red-head down the passageway where a figure awaited them; a tall, thin shadow, backlit by the flickering light spilling out of the room behind him.
“You’re late, Strawberry.” The stranger rasped.
“Rack, I got her just as you wanted. She fought, so I had to gag her. I have to remove the spell before you can talk to her. That’s what you wanted, right? To talk to her?”
Willow sounded unnaturally insecure and subdued.
“Good girl. No need to be hasty. Bring her into my office.” The shadow turned and Willow followed into the brightly lit room, floating Dawn along behind her, bobbing up and down like a balloon on a string.
Dawn began to struggle violently when she noticed where all the flickering illumination was coming from. The whole ceiling was a swirling, nauseating whirlpool of iridescent light. Strange, distorted faces appeared out of the semi-liquid matter, mouths wide in silent screams, before being sucked back under the surface. The plopping and sucking noises were the only sound accompanying this macabre dance.
Willow seemed oblivious to the ghastly display over her head. She walked trancelike over to a divan and sat down obediently on the blood red velvet cover.
The stranger - Rack - turned in the light and Dawn shrunk back at the sight of the hollow, sunken cheeks in a face framed by grey mottled, unkempt long hair. His red, glowing eyes captured her gaze and bore deeply into her mind.
Dawn blinked to break the connection, but she only slid deeper into the dark pit behind his eyes. Tendrils of the slimy, rubbery material from the ceiling sank down and started to wrap around her.
He’s hypnotizing me! Dawn silently cursed ‘stay away, go away’, unable to protest verbally. She tried to kick him, but he was out of reach. But Willow wasn’t! She managed one vicious boot at Willow’s knee cap.
“Owwwww! What are you…” Willow cried out in pain and looked around. The shock had obviously jarred her out of whatever dream world she’d been in.
“Rack, what are you doing with her?” Willow turned in alarm towards Dawn and shouted “Dissolvere!”
Dawn fell to the ground and immediately started to pull at the slick, rubbery strands still constricting her. Their hold wasn’t solid yet, so she managed to slide them off after some desperate clawing. As she rushed towards the door it closed in her face with a loud bang.
“Willow, back to your place. You brought her here and you will get your reward. Keep out of my business, you stupid girl.”
Rack was fuming and tried to grab Dawn as Willow stepped into his way.
“This wasn’t the deal!” Willow accused the warlock. “You said you only wanted to talk to her.”
“Don’t get cute with me. I can squish you like a fly and don’t think I wouldn’t do it. I can get dozens like you if I want. You were only interesting because you brought her.” Rack growled at Willow and tried to shove her out of the way.
Willow fended off his hand and glared back at him. “Your ego is far greater than your power. That spell you gave me, to make them forget you? That was a total fiasco. And Dawn ran away the first time, just after you told me that nobody can leave without your permission.”
Waving up at the undulating ceiling above their heads Willow spit out, “You’re nothing without your pet demon up there!”
“She is mine” A voice coated in barbed wire vibrated suddenly through the room, cutting the air to splinters like an exploding grenade.
Eyes slit like a cat’s pupils, glowing in a fierce orange, had opened over the whirling vortex. The maw now sported razor-sharp teeth and more tendrils sprouted from it and reached down for their prey.
“I crave her energy! I need her force – she is mine!!”
Dawn clamped her hands over her ears and shrieked, a sharp, cutting cry, challenging the demon’s vocal attack.
“Dawn, run!” Willow commanded and pointed her hand menacingly at Rack. A column of wind lifted the warlock into the air, sending him sailing forcefully back towards the opposite side of the room. Dawn heard a loud ‘crack’ as his head crashed into the plaster and he slid limply down the wall.
The furious, red witch now focused her rage on the demon overhead. Her eyes grew solid black and her hair whipped around her face like living flame.
The demon aimed its tentacles at Willow and the barbed voice cut the fabric of the air to threads with unidentifiable syllables, clicks and screeches.
Dawn’s heart pounded a rapid, frightened beat as she saw blood trickle out of Willows eyes and ears. Dawn took one hesitant step towards the witch, unsure what to do, before she turned in a panic and rushed out the door.
Spike’s eyes followed every move of his Slayer with adoration. She was a vision, magnificent in every detail. From his perch on the pedestal of the Weeping Angel statue he had a perfect view of the fight.
A slender leg shot out in an elegant arc as Buffy gracefully bent backwards to counteract the right hook from the vamp. Her opponent collapsed to the ground, limbs flailing as he hit the gravestone with a heavy thump.
Buffy shook her head, her ponytail whipping. “Why did you have to interrupt us? Don’t you know that’s rude? Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”
“Huh? Are you particular who’s biting you, poppy?” snarled the vamp while struggling to pick himself up into a fighting stance.
“Hey, watch your mouth!” Spike interrupted. Nobody called his love pet-names but him. Besides, poppy, what kind of a name was that? No class there. What a sorry excuse for a vampire.
“It was rude!” Buffy turned to Spike and pouted, her lower lip begging to be nibbled. “Can’t I have one quiet moonlight stroll without being attacked? It’s not fair.”
Grinning, Spike noticed the slight turn of her head. Behind Buffy’s back the vampire rushed towards her with long strides, until she whirled around at the perfect moment with a forceful roundhouse kick. It sent the attacker flying headfirst into the foliage covering the nearby tomb.
“Why don’t you finish him up and we can continue our – stroll.” Spike sucked in his cheeks in a sexy smirk. If they continued their ‘stroll’ as before, they would need weeks to cross the graveyard between all the kisses.
Buffy pulled out her stake and went over to the still dazed vamp and quickly staked him. She turned and grinned up at Spike. “Thought you enjoyed the show.”
“Can watch you forever, luv. All fluid and graceful. You are the best I’ve ever seen and fought.” He sighed. “What a shame, we’re not enemies again. Remember our first fight at the high school? That was a boost, well, until your mum interrupted us.”
When he noticed Buffy’s raised eyebrows he quickly amended. “Just miss the fight, ya know? There’s nothing better than going against a worthy opponent. To walk the edge between life and death.”
“It’s funny; you know what Giles’ said today? That you might be able to spar with me if the chip detects no evil intentions.” Buffy whipped on her tiptoes and her eyes sparkled in anticipation. “Would you like to try?”
Spike’s mind blazed at the idea of dancing with his Slayer. If his heart could beat, it would explode in joy. To not be able to challenge Buffy was what he’d mourned most since the chip had crippled him. To go against her in a friendly fight came near to being in heaven for him.
He eagerly hopped off the pedestal into a fighting stance, a devilish grin splitting his face. “Come on, Slayer! You know I wanna dance…”
“Take it slow, Spike. I don’t want to have to drag you all the way home if you fry your brain.”
Cautiously, Buffy aimed a hit at the side of Spike’s head which he blocked easily without flinching. As Buffy continued the attacks, Spike got bolder. He was only blocking, but still it must hurt her a little and he couldn’t feel even the slightest twinge from the damn thing. So, on the next attack, he grabbed her arm and in a fluid motion sent her into a somersault.
Buffy rolled, came up effortlessly, and turned anxiously back to Spike. “Are you crazy? What part of ‘take it slow’ didn’t you understand, you moron?”
Spike stormed to her, grabbed her waist, and whirled her around. “It worked! It worked! That was bloody brilliant!”
Buffy squeaked in surprise and wrapped her arms around his neck. He whirled faster, around and around, until the world blurred by and they both started to laugh.
“Oh… Spike… I’m flying…” Buffy gasped between bouts of joyous laughter.
Finally he stopped and gently let her slide down to the ground. She was simply adorable, her face flushed, the golden hair gleaming silken in the moonlight. He looked deep into her dancing, hazel eyes and latched onto her beautiful lips with gleeful abandon.
With a loud bang Dawn closed the door behind her and leaned her back against it. Her heart was drumming wildly as if it was intending to punch a hole into her ribcage. She looked around her in a panic, trying to get her bearings. Wherever she was, she wasn’t at Rack’s rat hole anymore.
This was a totally different rat hole.
Dawn pressed her back with all force she could muster against the wooden surface of the closed door. Thank God it did open inwards. Her legs began to quiver and her knees were wobbling as the adrenaline rush left her body. She took several deep breaths and tried to relax her tense muscles.
First things first. She remembered Spike’s advice from the countless stories he had told her over the summer about his adventures: ‘Secure your situation, find out where you are, who you stand against. Then make your move’.
The door behind her back was solid and still, no loud banging or rattling. Nobody seemed to have followed her here. Cautiously she straightened and took a step away from the door. In the lock was a key; she turned it and heard the bolt slide into the jamb. Absentmindedly, she pocketed the key in her jeans jacket and tested the handle – it didn’t budge.
This wasn’t still good enough. Dawn looked around the room she was in; there was a solid dresser to the side of the door. She struggled, tugging and dragging and pushing with all her strength and finally placed it in front of the door. Ok, that was as secure as she could get it.
Next she had to determine where she was. It was obviously a hotel room. Duh, that wasn’t much help.
She turned to assess the depressing interior of the room. Two doors, a small bathroom, everything seemed to have been refurbished the last time in the 70’s. The wallpaper design, with intertwining circles in moldy green and screaming orange, surely would give her eye cancer if she had to stare at it for any length of time. A moth-eaten carpet partially covered some stains on the light brown linoleum floor. She hoped it wasn’t blood.
This room looked like a murder scene from some black and white mafia gangster movies. Just, you know, crossed with “Psycho” and a little “Halloween” tossed in for more flavor. Arrg, now she was spooked.
She went over to the window and peaked behind the shabby, dusty yellow-brown curtains. The sun hung like a big, orange, rubber ball over a windblown desert landscape. Strong gusts of wind whirled up little dust-devils of reddish brown sand. In the distance, Dawn could see the shapes of hills and gnarled Joshua Trees stretching limbs up to the cloudless sky.
Great. She was lost somewhere in Arizona – if she still was in her home dimension at all. She’d heard enough tales from Anya to know there were far stranger places around than Arizona. Sky and sun looked pretty normal though.
Looking out the window, it became clear that she wasn't in a hotel room at all, but in a cabin. There were rows of similarly deserted looking, shabby cabins lined up like chipped beads along a tarred street running straight from and into nowhere. A rusty sign, the symbol of a yellow rising sun over sand-scratched, partly broken, neon lights told her she was at the ‘Sun—ale Motel’.
Nice vacation spot. She wondered if anybody ever came here, even when the motel had been new and less gnarly looking.
Now came the difficult part. Should she stay here and wait or go out and try to find help on her own? Anyway, she was going to need water and the thought of being outside when it was dark? No way.
Her first fleeting hope had been a mini-bar, as if such a rat hole would sport one. Nope.
The dangling bare light bulb in the windowless bathroom cast sharp shadows as she tried her luck with the tap. A thin trickle of slightly orange colored water was at least more than nothing. She really hoped the color was just rust. She cupped some liquid in her palm and frowned at the stale, lukewarm taste. But she was thirsty, so she clenched her teeth and swallowed it.
After she had drunk as much as she could endure, Dawn decided to take her chances and explore the outdoors. The sun was still barely above the horizon as she first cautiously peeked through a crack in the front door before quietly sneaking out in search of the office and maybe some human help.
Spike was happy.
If he looked at the long line of years, stretching behind him back to his death, he’d never been this happy before. Even as a human he’d been mostly miserable and lonely. Only his mum had shown him kindness and love.
He marveled at how he’d finally managed to get his chance. The chance that lay warm and soft in his cold, callused hand. This slip of a girl had given him hope. He still didn’t dare to call her ‘his girl’, fearing that the bubble would burst, leaving his life again bereft of all light and warmth.
“A penny for your thoughts.” Buffy looked up at him as they lazily strolled through the moonlit cemetery back towards Revello Drive.
He gently squeezed Buffy’s hand and his poet’s heart blazed under her smile.
“Luv, I’m just a sentimental fool. Don’t want to ruin my bad-ass image.” Spike pursed his lips and considered her. “Just thought how I enjoy going on patrol with you.”
Buffy giggled. “If you could call our kissage interrupted by vampires a patrol. Giles would be so ashamed of me. Thank God it was a quiet night.”
Spike stopped and pulled Buffy into his embrace and she melted against him. He put a gentle kiss on the top of her head and felt her arms snuggle around his waist under his duster.
She lifted her head and looked up at him. “I like it. This feels so – right. Why didn’t we do this way earlier?”
“Because you’re a stubborn, hard-headed bint?”
“Hey, mister!” She poked her elbow into his side. “I am not.”
“Bloody well are!”
With a light hearted laugh, Buffy detached herself and sprinted away. “The last one back is a rotten egg!“ she shouted over her shoulder with a playful smirk.
Spike took off chasing behind her, in no real hurry to catch up with her, rotten eggs be damned. He was admiring her ass, the play of her muscles as she ran in front of him. What a sight!
Leaning back against the front door, Buffy waited for him. As he strutted up the stairs she gave him a teasing grin. “You lose!”
“Do I now?” Spike questioned as he pressed his body flush against her and lowered his head for another hungry kiss. Tendrils of golden hair had escaped her ponytail and were clinging to her moist neck. He trailed his finger along her jaw line and freed the strands one by one. Her skin trembled under his fingertips and her heart rate accelerated even more.
He could smell her musky arousal and knew that he could take her if he wanted. With tongue and lips, with his murmured endearments he could drive her into a lustful frenzy, push her to lose her control and be all his.
But he didn’t. He didn’t want her body; he wanted her heart.
Who was he kidding? He wanted her body. To feel her legs wrap around him, to slide into her hot core, to listen to her when she cried his name as she fell over the edge. To feel her hot, sweaty skin move against his. To dive to her secret place and taste her nectar. To find out if she moaned or if she screamed. His dreams were filled with visions of her, in 3-D Technicolor and Surround Sound, now more than ever and his hand hurt from all the wanking he’d done to placate his ever present erection.
But all that would be empty, nothing more than smoke and mirrors, if he didn’t get her heart first. Without her love, it would be just sex for Buffy and some day soon she would be disgusted about it and leave. He loved her, with all his heart; he wouldn’t throw away the chance he’d been offered just because he couldn’t get his dick under control.
Panting for breath Buffy broke the kiss and placed her hand gently on his cheek.
“I’ve to go now… as much as I want this to go on. The lights are off, so Dawn’s already asleep and I don’t want to wake her. Besides, I have to spare something for tomorrow…” With an impish grin she turned and opened the door.
For the first time since his arrival at the front porch Spike listened to the sound of the house. “Buffy, something’s wrong. Can’t hear a heartbeat. Niblet’s not here, nobody’s here.”
Buffy switched on the light. A dripping ice cream container on the kitchen counter and a mess of spilled popcorn littering the couch were the only signs of a rebellious teenager. Dawn’s jacket was missing too.
On the fridge was only a note from Tara saying that she’d gone to the library to work on a paper and would be late.
“Spike, can you sense anything? Dawn can be a dork, but she would leave us a note to say if she’d gone over to Janice’s.”
He closed his eyes and cracked his neck as he concentrated on all the scents that hung in the air.
Dawn had been here recently - it couldn’t have been long since she’d left. The smell of her girly perfume and shampoo still lingered heavily in the living room, together with the salty tang of the chips and the chocolate aroma of the ice cream. Near the door the trail was mixed with a more earthen, spicy scent.
Spike opened his eyes and met Buffy’s concerned gaze. “Red was here.”
“Willow?”
“That’s what I’m smellin’. And recently.”
Buffy opened the front door. “Maybe she was looking for Tara? Can you tell if Dawn went outside with Willow?”
“Willow was here tonight?” Tara’s voice startled them.
The witch was standing in front of the door, her hand ready to open it; her brows were now knit in consternation. “She was here around noon and talked to me. She knows my class schedule and wouldn’t come by looking for me on a Thursday night. What’s with Dawn?”
“She’s not here and we don’t know where - or why - she’s gone.” Buffy was growing more and more agitated.
Spike put his arm soothingly around her shoulder. Why must such a lovely evening end in distress for her? “Sweetheart, let’s see if I can follow them. At least she’s not out there on her own.”
“Spike, I’ve a bad feeling. Remember what I told you about the research results that popped up today on Giles’ computer? Willow is involved in something serious and I don’t like what I learned about that Rack guy.”
Tara touched her hand. “Buffy, let me help, too. We’ll find Dawn.”
The two girls followed Spike into the night.