Previously:
When Xander came home the next morning, not even the fact that his parents hadn't noticed he'd been gone could bring him down.
She loved him, too.
~*~*~*~
Darla always had a thing for expensive perfume. Spike was sure it was a lingering habit from when she was alive. As a prostitute she'd put a dab of fragrance right under her nose so she wouldn't have to smell her clients. The scent was like a bubble that could help her escape; a small way to control her world and maintain dignity. Perfume was always something she'd pay for, which irritated Spike to no end, but he was fourth down on the chain of command so there was fuck all he could say to the queen bitch.
Darla was the coalescence of beauty and ruthlessness. Though she was a formidable predator, her lethality wasn't perfect. Angelus was her weak spot and the only creature Spike had ever met that could hurt her at all. When his grandsires fought, words would escalate to blows like lightning. Spike couldn't understand why they bothered to argue when they always wanted the same thing anyway, but again, no one asked him.
Usually Darla would give as good as she got, but there was once when Angelus beat her so badly, Darla wouldn't leave her bedroom afterward. She'd refused to see anyone but Drusilla. When Dru didn't come out, Spike started to get nervous. He knocked on the door and in response, Darla shoved Dru's limp form out to him. Darla had fed from Drusilla, draining her almost dry and leaving Spike's sire a twitching, grief-filled mess. Spike had to force-feed her and then fight Angelus off because the older vampire wanted to take Dru when she was in that diminished state. Angelus said Dru's pleas for mercy evoked a lovely sense of nostalgia.
Spike spent the rest of the day in a locked room protecting Drusilla until she was herself again. The second night Darla tried to send for Dru again, Spike barged into the room instead, breaking all sorts of established etiquette both vampire and human. He was raging and indignant even though seeing the ruin of Darla's incomparable face made Spike wince. Her eyes were nearly swollen shut, the delicate features like smashed clay matted with blonde hair. Darla was sprawled on the pearly, white, satin bedding in a white, lace peignoir. She hissed at him like he was brandishing a crucifix.
"Not you, you're beneath me—"
"I'm beneath you? Bloody whore. Time was if I had two copper bits to rub together you'd be beneath me. You nearly killed Dru last night and your darling boy tried to have a go when she was too weak to refuse him—"
"She wouldn't have refused him and you know it," Darla said, lurching toward him, her hand curled like a claw. Spike caught her by the wrist.
"She would have then," Spike said, twisting her arms behind her back before pulling that broken face near his. Spike spoke softly to the other vampire, his grip on her nearly a hug. "We will feed you, Darla. I'll fetch you someone fresh to eat, but if you have another taste of Dru tonight she'll spiral. You'll kill her."
"I can't be seen."
"We'll pluck their eyes out first," Spike said with a grin.
"Don't want their skin near mine, or their smell," Darla said.
Then with the speed of a viper striking, Darla not only broke free from Spike's hold, but flipped him onto the mattress. Darla was suckling at his neck before he even felt the penetration of her fangs. His great-grandsire could've made it feel good, but she didn't. The strangest part was when she'd taken nearly everything he had, leaving gentle William sinking in remorse for all Spike had done, Darla dragged his flaccid body on top of hers. She rested his head on her breast and stroked his hair.
"Tell me I'm beautiful."
"You are beautiful, my lady," he mumbled against her cold flesh. All this, he thought, all this because she couldn't bear to ask for a little comfort. There were things Darla couldn't have anymore; she could only take them.
Spike distantly felt her tear at more flesh before he finally passed out. He came to in his bed with Drusilla's bloody mouth against his.
"Someday we'll do this with silly straws," Drusilla said.
"What's a silly straw, love?" Spike asked.
That night, Darla felt confident enough in her restored appearance to receive dinner guests. Spike and Dru brought her three young, stunning women. Along with the girls, Spike purchased a vial of Darla's signature scent. On the receipt Spike wrote, "Yours for the asking."
Despite knowing her for more than a century, Darla never took Spike up on the offer.
Perhaps it was being so close to another formidable, little blonde with a weak spot for Angelus that made Spike dream of Darla.
She was sitting before an empty mirror wearing nothing but a pink corset, her light hair piled in curls atop her head. The room they were in was indistinct, all shadowed with only her pale body emitting light. Darla looked over her shoulder at him and extended her hand, palm up.
"William, my reflection's vanished. Come find it for me," Darla said with a smile so sweet she didn't look like herself.
As he got closer, Spike could see that it wasn't Darla at all sitting before the blank looking glass, but Buffy. Spike knelt at her bare feet and turned his face up to hers.
"I'm so cold, please make it stop," Buffy said, tears glinting in her eyes.
Spike dragged his splayed hands across the soft lines of her outer thighs until they were cupping her ass. He pressed his face into the hard rounds of her knees.
"You're still warm, heat pours off of you. The mirror must be a trick of the light," Spike said.
Buffy was looking down at him with such anguish that her pale face recalled the pieta.
"Look again, my darling," Spike said.
She turned to the glass and squinted.
"I can see myself now but it's so far away," Buffy said.
"Let me taste you and I'll bring it closer," Spike whispered.
She nodded and then looked down at him, fear evident in her emerald eyes. Spike pushed her legs apart and watched the petals of her sex open. Being a dream, her pussy really did look like a panting, red orchid. Spike kissed his way along her skin to the pulsing flower. Then he leaned into her and licked her cunt from top to bottom. Buffy made wounded animal sounds, whimpering and pulling away at first before settling into the sensation. She tasted like a storm rolling over the ocean; violence, electricity and great, waves of salt dragging him under. Her heels were digging into Spike's bare back and she was pressing his head, urging him. Spike was irritated by the stiff fabric of the corset bumping into his forehead so he stopped tonguing her to unthread the ribbon tying her garment.
The rigid material fell away, leaving her rosy skin exposed. There were red indentations in her flesh from the boning on the underwear. He rubbed the markings gently until they faded away, then licked along the underside of her breast. He marveled at her warmth and softness. He bit into her nipples until they wrinkled into delicious points. Buffy held onto the edges of her chair, letting him have his way. Spike realized he missed her touch guiding him, so when he brought his mouth to her pussy again, he placed her hands on the back of his head. He lapped at the quivering bud of her clit and the ruffled calyx surrounding it until she was roiling. Her head was heavy on the stem of her slim neck and her eyes were following her reflection in the mirror.
"I can see myself now and you're here with me, William. Oh, William mine—"
The orgasm woke him up.
Spike grunted, felt the wet spot against his stomach and cursed the fact that he'd just soiled the only pair of sheets in the entire house that would fit on his bed. He tumbled out damp and embarrassed, then stubbed his toe on the way to the bathroom. Spike showered, missing his longer hair as he lathered the shampoo he'd picked from the myriad bath products stuffed in the bathroom closet. He'd thrown out the opened ones and there was still enough to stock a drug store.
Amid the other spoils was a room full of clothes, so he'd padded his wardrobe, too. There was a bright blue shirt that had caught his fancy even though it wasn't the type he'd normally wear. Spike wondered if it was something Buffy would like on him. Xander and Dav had gone through the rest of the clothes, taking some things for her job and donating the rest. When Xander had been occupied elsewhere Dav noticed Spike deliberating over the shirt. She said he should keep it because the blue would make his eyes, "pop." Spike had sneaked off to hang the new garment in his closet before Xander could see.
After his shower he put the blue shirt on and then pulled it off again, feeling foolish for trying to impress Buffy. For him clothes always started out as costume, then became a habit. He'd pick up a shiny totem along the way, a keepsake from a particularly good fight like his leather coat, but that was the extent of his fashion focus. Drusilla had never dressed him in all their years together and Spike had never thought, what would my girl like? He already knew. Dru liked him naked, bloody and hard.
With the slayer there was so much beyond him and his usual approach. He shouldn't even want her; that was the worst part. He should have been dreaming of Dru.
Spike didn't know how long he'd been sitting naked on his bed when the knock came from downstairs. He snatched his faded, black jeans from the floor and hopped into them on his way to answer. Spike zipped up his fly, wished he'd thought to grab a shirt, then opened the door anyway.
"Hey, usually you get here before we even knock," Willow said, grinning at him from beneath her floppy, red and orange hat.
"Sorry, was just in the bath," Spike said.
His smile was fleeting until he glanced at Buffy, who was standing by her best friend's side. Buffy was staring at his chest, her lips parted half way to a grin, like the magnetism of his body had paused her mid-sentence. That inspired a wide leer on Spike's face and he practically had to pry his tongue off of the back of his front teeth to aim the proper sarcasm in her direction.
"Eyes up here, sweetheart, I'm more than just a piece of meat, you know," Spike said, pointing to his face.
"Um, I wasn't," Buffy mumbled.
"Sorry, Buffy, you were totally sautéing him with your eyes," Willow said.
"Well, it's been a pretty epic dry spell, like 'Book of Revelations,' epic," Buffy said.
Mentioning the last time Buffy had sex made Spike feel a lot less playful.
"Right, so why don't you girls come in," Spike said.
"We'll be late for Giles' and you know how he is with the punctuality," Buffy said.
"Should've called you, slayer, but I was so knackered I just passed out. Actually need to head down to the Laundromat," Spike said. Because I jizzed all over my bed linens like a hair-trigger adolescent after having a naughty dream about you, Spike thought to himself. He wondered if the unspoken part was written all over his face anyway.
"We were going to go to the Bronze, sort of a goodbye to summer thing, if you want to stop by after," Willow said.
"No, I'll patrol, but you two go ahead," Spike said.
"You don't have to do that," Buffy said.
"Yeah, come with us," Willow said.
"No, I insist. Have a night out, my treat," Spike said.
Buffy smiled gratefully at him; he wasn't sure if that was because he'd offered to take over her responsibilities for the night or because she didn't want to see him. He decided not to dwell on either prospect. He'd do the wash, take a swing around Sunnyhell, then come home to have another round with translating the tortuous du Lac book.
"Thanks Spike," Willow said, giving him a brief, bouncy hug.
Then it was Buffy's turn for a goodbye squeeze. The farewell cuddles were a new bit now that they were buddies. She didn't have to do that and God sometimes he wished she wouldn't because then her scent clung to him, haunted him like a specter. Buffy embraced him, her hands sliding sensually against his bare back. She probably had no idea how that affected him, Spike reminded himself.
Buffy withdrew slowly, then tried to cover the way he unsettled her with a smile. Willow saw; the little witch saw everything. It was an artifact from her wallflower days.
"We'll see you later," Willow said, taking Buffy's arm. The slayer started to go along with Willow but then she stopped.
"Oh Spike," Buffy said.
"What's that, love?
"If you're having trouble getting that Polgara demon blood out of your clothes, use a little club soda. Totally saved my favorite jeans," Buffy said, giving him a smile so sunny he thought his skin might ignite.
"Thanks."
She kept walking away from him. Spike realized as he watched her perfect hips sway that Buffy Summers had reduced William the Bloody, a fourth of the Scourge of Europe, to a perky puppy waiting on bated breath for her Hints from Heloise.
God she was a hell of a woman.
~*~*~*~
Buffy and Willow were walking with their arms linked. Buffy was half-heartedly sucking on a cherry Tootsie Pop and Willow was filling up the space between them with lots of words.
"It's weird that Spike has to do laundry now. Demonic creatures seem so above mundane chores," Willow said.
Buffy took the lollipop out of her mouth and tilted her head.
"I guess the less evil you are the more housework you get stuck doing."
The redhead hesitated a moment before moving on with forced cheeriness.
"So, what's going on with you and Spike?"
"All that awkwardness you just witnessed is what's going on."
"Really, because you didn't look awkward to me. You looked kind of natural, like scary natural," Willow said.
"Things are complicated,” Buffy said.
They walked on for a few steps without talking.
“Remember how you said you weren't allowed to shut me down when I asked Spike questions. This is me not allowing you to shut me down now,” Willow said.
Buffy sighed.
“O.K. Being close to Spike is comforting and scary all at once. It's like when I first met Angel. There's this sense of inevitability about him," Buffy said.
"Are you talking about destiny?"
"I guess, except now I know that feeling isn't about romance and butterflies and moonbeams," Buffy said. They passed by a garbage can on the corner before Giles' block and Buffy chucked her candy in the metal bin with a clang. "It's about power. I hate it and I think he does, too. None of it is real."
"How do you know?" Willow asked as they came up to the courtyard in front of Giles' house.
"Because it can't be until whatever's controlling us is gone," Buffy said. They walked up the front steps and knocked on his door.
Giles answered with a smile and ushered them inside.
"I have some good news and some better news," Giles said. Willow and Buffy followed him into the living room, which smelled lushly of curry and saffron. Xander looked up from setting the dining room table to give them a wave and a grin. Buffy went to stand beside Xander and put her hand on the chair back.
"So what's the good and better?" Willow asked.
Dav came in the room carrying a steaming tureen and when Giles saw her a teasing look sparkled in his eyes.
"Well first off, our Davinia has made the most incredible vegetable curry I've ever tasted," Giles said.
"He's kidding," Dav said as she set the food down on a potholder in the middle of the table. Giles put his hands on her shoulders and she looked up at his face.
"I most certainly am not and I lived in India for four months during the early nineteen eighties," Giles said, giving her a squeeze before letting her go. Xander looked irritated by the display of affection and grumbled nonsensically to the napkin he was trying to fold. Buffy caught the words British, geriatric and my Kool-Aid.
"Why didn't you ever tell me about when you lived in India for four months?" Buffy asked, feeling a stab of envy that resulted in a slight pout.
"It just never came up."
"You never had to debase the beef canoe?" Dav asked. Dav and Giles erupted into laughter at their private joke. Xander went into the kitchen, apparently too annoyed to be in the same room as them. Willow looked at Buffy and mouthed the words, "beef canoe?" Buffy shrugged, hands imploring the heavens, in response.
"Happily, no," Giles said, as he took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to get his chuckling under control,"but I genuinely have something important to tell all of you. I'm going to England to meet Ms. Avenolie in person. She's found some promising avenues of research on reversing the bond and I thought it best to join her."
"Score one for Buffy being in charge of her brain again," Buffy said.
Giles put his glasses on and Xander came back into the room carrying a basket of naan.
"I see the giggle twins have calmed down enough to divulge the life altering information," Xander said, setting the bread down with a spiteful thump. Giles looked at Dav, the corners of his mouth twitching.
"Yes, well, I have a jar of homemade chutney in the basement a friend of mine sent from London that would be lovely with this. I'll be right back," Giles said, before departing. The moment the watcher was gone, Xander picked up his anger.
"Why do you have to be all cute girl with him?" Xander asked.
"I am not being any cuter than normal," Dav said, blushing as she began filling glasses with water.
"Willow, back me up, was Dav being charming with Giles just now?"
"Um, I'm opting out of this discussion on best friend grounds."
"That's not a real thing," Buffy said.
"It is now," Willow said as she dashed toward the basement. "Giles, do you need help?" Willow called before she thumped down the steps.
"Buffy?" Xander asked, glaring her way.
"I don't know. You did seem awfully chummy but on the other hand Giles is old," Buffy said, smoothing her skirt with the palm of one hand while adjusting one of the forks Xander had set down so it was perfectly centered on the bright, orange napkin.
"You think Giles is old? I thought your ex was a contemporary of George Washington," Dav said.
"Angel's a couple years older, actually, but I mean it's not like they hung out," Buffy said.
"So, you don't think Giles is too old for you?" Xander asked.
"Xan, can we not do this?" Dav asked.
"Dav's right—" Buffy said.
Xander just ignored her.
"I mean what would you do if I said Buffy looked incredible in that outfit?"
"I'd agree, you look super-pretty tonight, Buffy," Dav said, smiling at her.
"Thanks, I figured since I'll be dancing more than slaying I'd go for the hotness instead of the utility," Buffy said. She'd worn an ankle-length black, leather skirt and a sheer, red shirt over a tank top the same shade.
"Fine, bad example. What if I kept trying to get a spoonful of Willow's chutney?"
"Xander, do you know what chutney is?" Dav asked.
"Not really. Just answer the question," Xander said.
"Maybe you guys should go outside or something," Buffy said.
Xander crossed his arms over his chest and marched to the door. Dav maneuvered around the table and gave Buffy an apologetic look as she followed her boyfriend. Dav's long, purple dress billowed behind her. Giles and Willow returned from the basement shortly thereafter.
"Are they done?" Willow asked.
"They went outside so Xander could jump to a bunch of insane conclusions in relative privacy," Buffy said.
"I hope he stops this foolishness," Giles said, as he opened the jar of chutney. He left them momentarily to search his cupboards for a serving bowl.
"Maybe I should go outside and talk to Xander," Willow said, moving toward Giles' front door. Willow peeked out the bars on the pressed tin door and stopped short.
"They are totally making out on one of those benches," Willow said.
Giles returned, bearing a white, ceramic bowl dotted with blue flowers.
"What say we give them five minutes before we start dining without them?" Giles asked.
Willow looked out the square cut in the door again.
"Xander just went for third base, I think we should just eat."
"If I can stomach it with that image in my mind," Buffy said.
"Hey, that's mean," Willow said.
"It's mean that I don't want to watch my best friends doing each other?"
"Oh, right. Me either," Willow said, darting away from the door like a startled fish. Giles opened his mouth, shook his head, and then gave up trying to add anything more. Instead he took his glasses off and cleaned them on the hem of his t-shirt.
~*~*~*~
Spike sat on the orange counter in the Laundromat watching the dark blur of fabric and white suds mashing against the window of the washing machine. There was a time when cleaning everything would be a day long affair, but now in a couple hours all his clothes were washed. Downy freshness—yet another cheap miracle the world kept coughing up through the course of Spike's long existence. Only recently had he become blunted to the wonders of human ingenuity and Spike scolded himself for getting as numb inside as the great poof. Maybe it was the lack of human blood that had dulled him to his unlife or maybe it was just missing Drusilla. And he did miss her, desperately, despite the inconstancy of his dreams.
Spike dropped down from his perch and began to pace.
He was certain the du Lac book had something to do with Dru. Spike wished he saved the notes Dalton had made or better yet, Dalton himself. He needed a bloody translator, that's what he needed. There might be something on campus, perhaps he'd go to the library and look up the Latin Department, Spike thought. Universities still had Latin Departments, right? Then Spike paused abruptly in front of a cork bulletin board near the front of the Laundromat. Amid the bills posted for Oz's band, Dav's play and a missing sign for a small, black kitten was a red banner printed in baroque script.
The sign read: "Translations, spells and discreet forays into the Occult. Contact Andrew Wells." Beneath the words, Andrew Wells' phone number was written a dozen times on easy tear tabs fraying the bottom of the page. Spike ripped down the ad and stuffed it into his pocket, ignoring the pang in his gut warning to beware of the thing that he most wanted appearing at the moment he most wanted it.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you to the lovely Sanityfair for her work on editing this chapter.
Chapter End Notes:
The line about debasing the beef canoe was stolen from, "What's My Line, Part I."
Thanks so much for reading and feel free to let me know what you think.
Thanks so much for reading and feel free to let me know what you think.