“I’m your humble servant, my Sultana. Your every wish is my command. I’ll keep you entertained with a tale that will let you forget a thousand days, only waiting for the enchanted nights in my company.”
Spike winked at her and began.
“Kareem is a Brachen demon. There were large tribes of Brachens in North Africa, especially in the Berber part, until the Nazis drove them out during World War Two. I met Kareem in Tangier, in the mid-1920s.
“Dru and I arrived by ship from Gibraltar. I fell in love with that town the moment my foot stepped onto the gangway.” A reminiscent smile curled his lips.
“You should have seen the sky, luv, dark blue and the stars sparkling in the dry air, so near, as if you could pluck them from their sockets. Then there was the smell: jasmine; the salty tang of seaweed, fish, and the spicy aromas from the food stalls at the harbor; horse dung, urine, and the sweat of all the beggars crowding around the docks.
“We settled down in a posh townhouse overlooking the Souk Dakhli, the Little Square. The owners, ummm, were gone on holiday.” Spike shot a nervous glance at Buffy.
“Come on, Spike. I know enough about your past to not be scandalized.” She gave him a small, reassuring smile.
Spike cleared his throat. “Right, luv, you know, evil vampire and all. Anyway, Dru wanted to live near poets, writers, and artists; she told me they taste like starfish.”
He cleared his throat again and quickly changed the focus of his tale. “Have you ever seen pictures of Moroccan villages?”
Buffy shook her head and took another sip of the mint tea.
“The older quarters have small alleys, crisscrossing the city like labyrinths, and the houses are crowded against each other, sometimes overhanging the streets. On the outside there are only a few windows, but once you enter through the passageway, it opens up into an enclosed, lush green garden. In the center, a fountain moisturizes and cools the air, surrounded by palm trees; oleander and jasmine trees seem to bloom all year and scent the air. All the windows open onto this temperate patio.
“I used to sit in the shaded garden and listen to the hum of the city outside. It’s very hot in summer, so all activities were suspended from late morning on. In the afternoon, the town stirred again. You could hear cars honking – the rich liked to flaunt their wealth … they had to have a car, obviously, even if you couldn’t get around in them very well. The streets were crowded with donkey carts; the poorer farmers were bringing their produce in from the fields with wooden crates on their backs or in large bundles on top of their heads. Everybody was yelling to get through and announcing what wares they had for sale; it was a right ruckus.”
The tale was interrupted by the arrival of their food. Large tin platters covered with thin, soft bread, which looked like cloth, were heaped with samples of differently prepared vegetables, roasted meats with assorted dips, and thick, spicy stews.
“Shut your eyes for a moment, pet. Let me take you back to Tangier.” Spike suggested.
A slight smile curling the corners of her mouth, Buffy closed her eyes obediently.
“Concentrate on the smell in here; the spicy fragrances of our food, the incense and wood smoke of the braziers. Now imagine an undercurrent of heady, sweet jasmine. The food stalls on the market put out their dishes and shout the menu to attract customers. Add stray dogs barking, the piercing cry of sea gulls, fighting for the scraps. Add the sounds of hundreds of people, all combined to a tapestry which takes you flying directly into a tale of Arabian Nights.”
Spike leaned forward and whispered into her ear. “Pet, open your mouth.”
Nearly in trance, Buffy opened her lips and was rewarded with a piece of meat in a bread-like wrapping, dripping with a succulent, rich creamy sauce. It tasted of lime with a hint of peppermint, ripe tomatoes and a slightly bitter herb she couldn't place. She chewed, savoring the flavors and opened her mouth again.
Spike chuckled and fed her the next treat. This time it was cool - a minty, salty yogurt coating a crunchy, battered potato.
“Mmmm, this is yummy!” She opened her eyes to see Spike leaning in, a delighted smile on his face. In the darkened room, his blue eyes were like dark pools of vibrant blue fire. She picked up a piece of battered vegetable, dipped it in the yogurt and trailed it over his lips. Spike opened his mouth and accepted the gift. His tongue flicked up to lick away the droplets from her fingers.
They continued to feed each other bits and treats from the samples. A thick stew of lentils and carrots, small meatballs, a tomato-lime salad which was called tabouleh, spiced again with the intense mint leaves.
Spike’s fingers lingered to wipe away tomato sauce, Buffy’s lips folded gently over his offering fingertips. It was a sensual, erotic ritual, feeding more appetites than just their hunger. Buffy finally leaned back and put her hand on her stomach.
With a satisfied groan she admitted, “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten so much at once. That was – marvelous, absolutely delicious.” A slow, sated smile played on her lips.
Buffy curled up on the cushions and looked pointedly at Spike. “But you still haven’t told me how you met Kareem, Scheherazade. You’re stalling.”
“Right then, here you go.” Spike signaled the waiter to clear the dishes. Stretching sensuously, the muscles of his upper arm straining against the fabric of his shirt, he settled back.
“As you can imagine, I was intrigued by all the smells around me. That was actually when I found out that I like to eat human food. I strolled through the stalls and alleys, sampled a bit, just following my nose. One very enticing trail of delicious smell took me into a more down trodden area behind the market place. You can imagine my astonishment when I found at its end the small kitchen of a demon restaurant. Kareem and his family were operating a tiny eating place for the demon population in Tangier.
“I became a regular customer, didn’t miss a single night. One night when I came around the corner, there was a commotion going on. Two Fyral demons were blocking the entrance and sending the customers away. They were enforcers from a demon mafia organization whom Kareem’s father had refused to pay. I got pissed and killed both of them. After that, I was invited into their home, which sort of made me family.”
Spike grinned at Buffy. “See, nothing really interesting there, just me offing some baddies.”
“Spike put my whole family and our business under his protection.” The soft voice made Buffy look up into Kareem’s brown, intense eyes. “He’s a man of honor and I’m blessed to call him friend.”
“Kareem, come on now, I’ve a reputation to keep.”
“A vampire who keeps his word, who looks after his friends – that is your reputation,” Kareem insisted. “He put us under the protection of the Aurelius clan and threatened vendetta on any demon that would harm any one of my family. The Aurelius clan is feared amongst us all, but – forgive me – they are fickle in their promises. But Spike? Everyone knows that he keeps his word, even if it might kill him. They left us alone, even after Spike was gone.”
Kareem looked seriously down at Buffy. “Why do you think the demons he angers don’t hire human thugs to off him, Slayer? Because they respect him. The only troublesome ones are out-of-town strangers, and he’s more than capable of handling them.”
Buffy watched as Spike swung his legs off the couch and sat there, elbows propped on his knees, his hands running through his already messed up hair.
“Pet, believe me, that was not why I brought you here.” He shot a fierce glance at their host. “I should’ve talked to you before, Kareem. You’ve got a bloody big mouth.”
The demon looked at Spike, unfazed, his face quiet and unreadable. “It wouldn’t have mattered. I watched you two; she needs to know.” He gave Buffy a deep bow. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Summers. Have a nice evening and may the gods look with grace upon you two.” With that he turned and walked away.
“’I’ve always been bad.’” Buffy quoted at Spike and broke into merry laughter.
Spike shrugged and locked his gaze with Buffy. “Right, I wanted you to see me as who I am. Might have screwed that up...”
After that, Buffy decided that Spike had earned himself a treat. Now it was her turn to face some fears.
“Come on, Big Bad. How about some dancing to work off all the extra calories before they have a chance to settle on my hips?”
As they were leaving the restaurant, they nearly ran into a family arguing just in front of the entrance door. The little toddler was bouncing around his parents, ears flopping, looking exactly like a puppy dog - one of those where the skin was at least three sizes too large for it.
“Stop it, Skip! If you can’t behave, we’ll have to go back home.” His father glared at his over-excited child, red eyes glittering, trying to look stern. With his friendly face and flapping skin, that was nearly impossible to manage.
His chubby mother in the meantime tried to get hold of the toddler, who every time managed to dodge her grip like a slippery eel. “Oh, Skippy, you promised to behave,” she warned him. “No more frog’s spawn tomorrow if you aren’t my sweet little boy tonight.”
Buffy decided that the child was definitely spoiled. She smiled at his antics; he was just so cute.
“Hi, Clem! Would it help if I put a bit of a scare into the lad?” Spike greeted the demon, grinning.
“Howdy, Spike! Sorry, didn’t notice you, buddy.” The father, Clem, wriggled his fingers in greeting at Spike and looked interestedly at Buffy. “Oh, you have company!”
Clem stretched out his hand. “Hi, I’m Clem, and that’s my wife Vera and my son Skip. Nice to meet you.”
Smiling, Buffy took his hand and shook it. She had met evil demons, goo-y demons, and bad smelling demons, but never before cuddly demons. It was impossible to not like this one.
“Nice to meet you and your family, Clem. I’m Buffy, Buffy Summers.” She nodded at Vera, who had managed to grab her son while he was staring wide eyed, fascinated by Buffy.
Spike smiled at the female. “Hello, Vera, long time no see. You look well and the little rascal is growing so fast, I didn’t recognize him.”
With a fake scowl, Spike knelt down in front of the unruly boy. “Now, Droopy, what should I do with you? Will you behave, or do I have to eat you?”
The little demon boy tittered nervously. “You wouldn’t eat me, Uncle Spike.” He shot a glance at his mother. “He wouldn’t, mum. Right?”
“Well, that depend on if you let your parents have a nice evening or if you throw a tantrum, don’t you think?” Spike smiled fiercely at Skip, showing his teeth. “Midgets that throw tantrums are my very favorite.”
Skip took his mother’s hand firmly in his little, grubby fingers and nodded. “I promise, Uncle Spike! I’ll be good!”
Spike stood up and winked at Clem. “Have a nice evening, Clem. Oh, and do you think you can come by my crypt one of these days? I’ve a spot of repair work and plumbing to do if you’re interested.”
Clem nodded enthusiastically. “Of course, Spike. I still owe you for the kittens, man.” He took the hand of his wife and waved them good bye.
Buffy looked after them with amusement as they plodded into the restaurant like a sloppy conga line. She had never thought about demons having families and doing plumbing. But why not? Seemingly, at least some demons were made the old-fashioned way.
When she turned to Spike, she raised her eyebrows. “Kittens? Plumbing? Whenever I think I know a bit more about you, you throw me a curve ball. You’ll have to tell me about it.”
Buffy took hold of Spike’s hand and squeezed it. “But not now - now we do some Bronzing.”
The Bronze was packed with customers, as usual for a Friday night, but they were able to secure a seat at a table.
“How ‘bout I get us drinks and then join you on the dance floor?” Spike offered. “Diet Coke for you?”
Buffy nodded then slung her hands around his neck and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t take too long.” She nibbled at his earlobe and giggled when she felt the low growl vibrate in his chest. Teasing, savouring his firm pectorals which bunched and twitched beneath the fabric, she trailed her fingers down his chest.
“Minx,” he growled into her ear. With a whirl Spike dived into the mingling crowd, fighting his way over to the counter.
Buffy let herself be drawn into the moving, swaying mass of bodies in front of the stage. She raised her arms over her head and got lost in the rhythm, her hair bouncing, gliding over her bare shoulders like a waterfall. Soon, she was surrounded by admirers who tried to gain her attention.
At her periphery, she could sense the tingling, electrifying presence of a vampire. He was circling the dance floor, always hidden from her sight by the throng of dancers, but ever so present to her body. She ran her hands down her sides as the sensation caressed her skin and made her nerve endings burn. She didn’t even notice that she pushed away the grabbing hands of her suitors; like a person would shoo away flies, mechanically, barely heeding their presence. All of Buffy’s concentration was on her vamp, slowly edging nearer, a predator on the hunt.
Strong hands grabbed her waist from behind and she smelled his unique scent of smoke, whiskey, and Spike. It made her head swim and she leaned back into his embrace, resting her head on his firm chest.
Spike bent and murmured into her ear. “You’re the most beautiful and sensuous creature I’ve ever seen.” He placed tiny kisses on her temple and pulled her hips against him, following her slow movement in perfect synchronization, as if they had danced a hundred times.
Buffy felt his hard body pressing into her, the soft velvet of his shirt gliding caressingly against her bare back. She raised her arms and folded them around his neck, holding him closer to her. She was oblivious to the jealous glances Spike got from the disappointed males surrounding her.
He was dancing with her like he fought with her; always anticipating her moves. Following her lead and taking the initiative whenever she gave him free rein. She’d never had a boyfriend who could dance so close to her without making her feel restricted or out of sync.
Slowly, she turned in his grip and looked up into the dark, blue flames of his eyes. Spike’s hands sneaked possessively around her waist. Her fingers stroked the soft material as they glided up his shirt, rubbing the fabric over his hard muscles. She sighed as his hand slid under her silk shirt, his cool digits gliding over her heated flesh.
The band started a slow rock ballad and Buffy rested her head on Spike’s shoulder, content in his embrace. She floated, her mind idle, her senses on overload: Spike’s cool, silken skin under her fingertips, his breath a mixture of tobacco, beer and spices, the murmur of his endearments into her ear, his mussed hair, glittering in the disco lights like a shining halo, and the tingling along her spine, warning her about this delectable creature.
When the band took a break, they went back to their table. Buffy sat down on the stool, sipping at her Diet Coke, Spike leaning on the table at her side. He rested his chin in the palm of his hand and watched her, musing.
“First time I ever saw you was here. You were dancing with Harris and Red, carefree and laughing. Your hair shone golden in the light, bouncing and swinging to the music. A young, still inexperienced Slayer who had miraculously killed the Master. Then I saw your real dance, outside, in the alley.”
Spike’s eyes were dark blue pools, burning with an inner fire. “There are so many dances we could do…”
Buffy’s breath hitched as she felt his gaze admiring her body, gliding over her breasts like a caressing hand. Spike’s eyes held promises of coming delights and pleasures.
“Hey, Ahn! Look, there’s Buffy!” Xander’s voice rose over the buzz. “Hey, Buffster!”
Jarred out of her fantasies, Buffy sighed and straightened on her seat. She felt her heart begin to race in nervous anticipation and she had to concentrate to breathe normally and stay calm. Well, it had been her decision to come here; now she had to face the consequences.
Waving, Xander broke free of the crowd, Anya in tow. He stopped abruptly, scowling, Anya bouncing into his back. “What’s he doing here?”
“We’re here dancing.” Buffy tried to stay polite.
Xander stared at her, frowning. “Dancing?”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Yes, dancing. I’m here with Spike.”
Anya beamed. “Oh, it’s your date night, right? What do you have planned for later? You should reserve your energy, Buffy. Vampires have incredible stamina; they need nearly no recuperation time.”
Xander moaned and clapped his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut.
Spike had been quiet, now he chuckled. “Demon-girl, you made a right catch; he’s a shy one. You should know that by now.”
Buffy had blushed during Anya’s prattle and felt sympathy with Xander. “Anya, it’s our first date. We just want to dance some more.”
“First date… Oh no!” Xander spluttered. “Please tell me you don’t want to really date bleach-boy.” He ducked as Anya gave him a clap to the back of his head.
“I’m sorry, Buffy. I don’t know why he’s so biased. He’s going to marry me, why would he object to whom you are dating. He’s neither your father nor your brother.” Anya wrinkled her brow in consternation. “Sometimes human customs still baffle me. They are so inconsequential.”
“Ahn, that’s not why… I just don’t want to see you hurt, Buffy,” Xander defended. “Have you forgotten how well that went with Angel? Angelus nearly killed you. If he hadn’t been such a sick, twisted psychopath, he could’ve done it in your sleep that first night. He could’ve turned you.” Xander’s voice trailed off, full of hurt and anguish. “I couldn’t live through another one of my friends being staked.”
“I would never turn anyone I love. Not even when it was the last thing to save her life.” Spikes face was stony, like cut out of white, cold marble, his voice flat and toneless.
Xander ignored Spike and turned hurt, brown eyes to Buffy. “Why another vampire, Buffy? Why Spike? I just want to see you happy, to have a normal life, a husband and kids.”
“I am happy, Xander. And a normal life? Since I was Called everyone tells me that I’ll die young. Haven’t you heard? I’m already one of the longest living Slayers in history. Where does your ‘husband and kids’ fit into that picture?” Buffy shook her head and leaned into Spike who placed his arm soothingly around her shoulder.
Anya looked dubiously at Xander. “Are you out of your mind, Xander Harris? A normal man? You know how strong Buffy is. Do you think that stops with her arm muscles? She can squeeze a normal man in half with her legs. I’m sure, a human penis wouldn’t survive a real, earth-moving orgasm from her; she would squash the poor thing to a pulp.”
“Ahn! I thought we agreed to only talk about that kind of stuff in private!”
“What? I haven’t talked about your penis, haven’t I? Xander, you know, I wouldn’t let anybody hurt your penis; I care too much about it.”
Buffy buried her face in Spike’s shirt, her whole body quivering in uncontrollable laughter. “Don’t worry, Anya, Xander’s safe from me,” Buffy squeaked, still torn between laughter and embarrassment.
Buffy finally got control of her mirth, extricated herself from Spike’s embrace, and placed her hand on Xander’s arm. “Please think about what I said, Xander. It hurts me that you distrust my judgement and put Spike down all the time. Can’t you try and get along, for my sake?”
“I’m your friend, Buffy. I just…” Xander stopped and stared hard at Spike. “Buffy might trust you, but I’m not on your bandwagon. If you ever hurt her, I’ll come after you.”
Spike looked at Xander and nodded decisively. “I won’t. But if I ever do, that’s what I deserve.”
Xander locked his gaze with Buffy’s pleading eyes. “Ok, Buffy. I’ll shut up and go along.”
She smiled at him, feeling a shadow lift off her heart, a shadow she hadn’t noticed was there until it was gone. She was no fool to believe that there wouldn’t be relapses to Xander’s hostile behavior towards Spike, but the first step was taken.
Buffy grabbed Spike’s hand. “I think we’ll dance some more. See you guys!”
Before they could leave for the dance floor, Anya stopped her. “Buffy, can you come by the Magic Box on Monday? Giles has put me in charge of the shop while Willow’s ill and I have a business proposal for you.”
A vision of the Halloween sale flashed through Buffy’s mind, endless hours moving crates in the dusty cellar and tending to cranky customers.
Her lack of enthusiasm must have shown in her face, because Anya quickly added. “Not about working in the shop, something more in your line of duty as a Slayer. I’ve also got the bridesmaid’s catalogues, and we need to plan the bachelorette party setup.”
Anya beamed at Spike. “Have you already decided how you’ll do the striptease? I need to rent the equipment and we have to think about the location.”
“Haven’t decided yet, demon-girl. Think I’ll talk it through with Buffy first, run some options by her, give her a demo or two, and see what she likes best. But tonight, I think we’ll do some more dancing – of the regular kind.”
Buffy quickly pulled Spike towards the dance floor before Anya could embarrass her even more. Her cheeks were burning; thank God it was so dark in here. If she thought about striptease demonstrations by Spike, her eyes would glaze over. His usual attire in a tight t-shirt and jeans left very little room for doubt about his physical attributes. Add to that the confirmation her exploring hands had already gotten, her mouth watered at the idea of watching him.
Spike leaned in and whispered into her ear. “Thinking about my goodies, pet?” His low chuckle sent shivers down her spine. “Your heart is racing like you’ve just unwrapped my hot, tight little body in your mind.”
Buffy smacked his chest. “I knew there was a downside to you being a vamp.” She laughed and pulled him into the milling crowd on the dance floor.
It was getting late and Buffy leaned beside Spike on the banister of the balcony. The last guests had abandoned the upstairs, leaving them alone.
She watched Xander and Anya on the dance floor among the already thinning crowd. Anya swayed elegantly to the music while Xander hopped around her like an eager puppy, arms waving through the air enthusiastically.
“That takes guts,” commented Spike.
“Hmm?”
“Harris. To dance like that, in front of all those people and his fiancé.”
Buffy chuckled softly. “Yeah, ‘he ain’t afraid of nothing’. That’s Xander for you.” She paused, observing the scene below.
“He was my first friend when I came here. Now he’s the only one of the Scoobies who’s without any special powers. He had this cool knowledge about weapons after the Halloween spell, but that’s been fading over the years. In spite of all that, he never hesitates to follow me into a fight.”
She turned and watched Spike’s face in the flickering light. He stared thoughtfully down at Xander, sucking in his cheeks. The light painted deep hollows, emphasizing the sharp edge of his cheekbones and the bold curve of his nose. Her stomach constricted at the beautiful sight.
“What did the Whelp mean – staking another friend?”
Buffy blinked. “When I first came here - Darla captured his best friend Jesse. We went after them, but were too late to save him. Darla had already turned Jesse and used him as bait for us. It was Xander who staked him.”
“Harris had to stake his best friend?” Spike shook his head and pulled Buffy into his embrace.
“That explains a lot. To see how someone you know and love changes into – something different …” His voice broke.
Buffy looked up into his troubled eyes. She saw dark shadows flicker in their depths and she remembered what he’d said to Xander about never turning her, even to save her. She placed her hand tenderly on his cheek.
“Who was it you lost? Do you want to talk about it?”
Spike looked away and she saw his cheek muscles twitch. Buffy leaned into his embrace and rested her head on his shoulder, waiting patiently. Several minutes passed until she could feel his tense muscles relax.
“It was my mum.” Spike’s voice was nearly inaudible over the music that wafted up from below. “She was ill, she had consumption, tuberculosis you’d call it now. I couldn’t do anything but watch her fade away. She was my world and I was helpless.”
He pulled her firmer against him, like she was his steadfast anchor in a sea of sorrow and regret. Buffy rubbed her hands soothingly over his back, tears welling up in her eyes as she felt his anguish wash over her.
“Her end was near when Drusilla turned me. It was a heavy blow for Mother when I vanished for several days, with no word. When I came back to our house, she was so much worse.”
Spike’s breath hitched in his throat. As she slowly raised her head, Buffy saw him staring into the distance, into the past, a teardrop running down his cheek.
“Maybe it was because I was a mere fledgling, I don’t know.” He looked forlornly down at her.
Buffy leaned up and kissed his tear away. “What happened?”
Spike sighed. “I turned her. I thought that would heal her, make her strong again.” Buffy felt his hands clenching and unclenching behind her back.
“My mum loved me, with all her heart. Your mother reminded me so much of her.”
Silently, she waited for Spike to continue. It tore her heart apart to see him in so much agony. Yet there was nothing else for her to do but to be just – there.
“She looked rejuvenated and glowing when she woke up. She looked like I remembered her as a lad. I thought it was a miracle; I was so happy. But… what she said to me! God, Buffy, that wasn’t my mum. She’d never have said anything so – hurtful, so scornful, to anybody. I couldn’t endure what I’d made of her.”
Spike pressed his wet cheek against Buffy’s neck and sobbed.
“I killed her. I killed her twice.”
“Shhh...” Buffy stroked his hair gently until his quiet sobs subsided and his body stilled. What could she say to make his memories hurt less?
“Spike, you said your mother loved you. She would have understood that you only tried to help her. Like you said, she was already dying and you were a new vampire. It is absolutely incredible that you still felt love for your mother. How could you’ve known, that it wouldn’t be the same for her?”
He looked up at her with hopeful eyes.
“I’ve seen a lot of vampires over the last years, there is so much difference in how the demon changes the – host. Maybe, because your mother was so weak, she couldn’t fight against the demon. Maybe you are the exception to the rule because Drusilla was psychic.”
She placed her hand over his heart. “Whatever it is, that wasn’t your mother anymore.”
Solemnly, he nodded. “At least she didn’t have to watch what I turned into. She would have hated me.”
“No, she wouldn’t. She would have been proud of you.”
She watched the agony slowly seep out of his eyes, saw his features relax. Peace was still a far way off, but she could sense the healing begin its work.
She leaned up and gave him a tender, chaste kiss on the cheek.
“Just as I’m proud of you.”