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Everything we've ever stolen
Has been lost, returned or broken
No more dragons left to slay
Robbie Williams – Road to Mandalay
*Sunnydale University dorm room*
Buffy woke up in throbbing need. She looked across the room to confirm Willow had left for morning classes, then settled back in her bed and slipped a hand in her pajama pants. Her dreams had been filled with sex scenes so racy they could have made Penthouse editors blush, even though the identity of her dream partner remained elusive. She would have liked to be able to say they were memories, but so far Faith remained the only person other than herself to ever bring her off. Scott and Parker never even came close. Maybe that’s part of the reason she was three for three in the love-‘em-and-leave-her department.
Scott had been a nice, reliable, and considerate boyfriend, and he’d been much the same their one and only night of passion. Only calling it that sounded weird, especially since they were just two virgins fumbling around after Prom in the good old American tradition. His dumping her the next day only left her hurt and lonely.
Which is why she’d ended up in a naked tangle of limbs with Faith not a week later. The experience had brought her solace, a couple of orgasms, and feelings of ‘what did I just do?’ At least the morning after had been tons better than the one with Scott. They’d cuddled, talked, and agreed they were better off as sisters in all but name than as lovers. Of course, since both Scott and Faith left town after graduation, it still seemed like a rejection, even if one went to college and the other to LA to fight the good fight as per the arrangement with the Council.
It was almost four months later until Buffy was ready to give the whole sex thing another go and she couldn’t have chosen a worse partner to do it with. The lowlife named Parker was only interested in another freshman conquest, so he pulled the wool over her eyes, fed her some cheap lines, and stole a few moments of sweaty and unfulfilling horizontal gymnastics. Score one more for dumbass Buffy who is apparently worth only a one night stand.
Which meant that now, upon waking from her very X-rated dream, she had no real good adult memories to fall back on while she tried to bring herself off. Her dream lover—who was most definitely male—had brought her to peaks of ecstasy she feared were only possible in the imagination, but the crowning moment, the action that had woken her up, was the feel of sharp fangs piercing her skin. She’d only felt it once, when the Master had killed her, and it sure hadn’t felt as it had in her dream. Apparently her dream self was also a wanton fang slut, since she’d screamed in pleasure when her blood started flowing.
God but it had been hot. Wrong on so many levels, but incredibly hot. So hot, in fact, that as soon as she replayed it in her head, it was enough to push her over the edge without any help from the purple vibrator still in her bedside drawer.
Buffy lay panting on her bed, sated from her orgasm, and yet hungry for more. God, she really needed to get a boyfriend. Preferably one with a pulse and a lack of fangs. Although… She shivered again in aftermath. She also needed to scrub her brain clean. And she’d get right on it as soon as she was done basking.
~~~****~~~
*The Initiative Complex, under the Sunnydale campus*
Maggie Walsh slammed shut another folder filled with less than impressive numbers. Despite the initial successes which saw dozens of demons captured, with five new species identified, as well as no less than three promising vampires in custody, the numbers had dwindled sharply, especially in the last month.
It was frustrating. Was this the best the famed Hellmouth had to offer? She’d chosen the location since it was supposed to be a hot-spot for HST activity, but the results… Her backers and higher-ups won’t be fooled by rave reports for long. She needed to find a way to turn things around, to have palpable results to offer, before her funding was pulled. If she couldn’t complete her special project in room 314 before that happened, she would never have another chance again. She knew that much.
Unfortunately the results were slow to show. None of the subjects implanted with the behavioral modification chip were able to survive long after insertion, many of the captured demons had to be put down for investigation, or extraction of their various useful parts, and the remaining ones were all but useless. To top it all off, several of her men had gone missing, including her second-best demon retriever, Forrest. She really needed a win, and soon.
What she didn’t need were more reports of co-eds getting in the way of her teams. It was almost bad enough to get her to believe in curses.
She pushed the appropriate buttons and barked an order in the walkie-talkie on her desk. It was time her so-called teams changed tactics. Maggie refused to believe there were only about a hundred HST in what was supposed to be a hotbed of activity for their kind. A better explanation was that, just as a herd keeps away from the favorite hunting grounds of a lion pride, so her teams must have scared away the so-called demons.
Riley walked in the door and took standing position in front of her desk.
“Take your best men and head out. Tonight I want you to go outside the city limits. We’ve scared the Hostiles away from our base of operations, but it’s time t flush them out of their hiding holes. I expect regular patrols in a grid pattern to cover the whole town and surroundings within a week.” She narrowed her eyes and pointed to make sure he understood how serious she was. “It’s been a week since the last capture. I don’t want to go another week without another subject for our studies. We need to study these hostiles to find out how to protect ourselves. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Ma’am. I’ll make the arrangements.”
“See that you do. Your country is counting on you.”
Riley saluted, did an about-face, and left.
~~~***~~~
*The Magic Box*
The bell above the door rang, signaling the exit of another happy customer and, at the same time, the end of the shop’s official work hours. Jenny turned the ‘open’ sign around, so that the ‘closed’ sign was showing from the outside. “And that was the last one. We’re officially the longest tenure in the shop’s history.”
Giles groaned from where he was busy counting the till for the day. “You do realize you just jinxed us, don’t you dear?”
She waved a hand in the air in a dismissive gesture. “Between the two of us, we know any possible harmful spell ingredients we need to be on the lookout for, we have wards and protection spells up almost around the clock, I have coven meetings every other night in the back room, and last, but by no means least, the rest of the nights your slayer teaches self-defense classes.” She shrugged and let her eyes roam across the shop’s interior. This might actually be one of the safest places in Sunnydale since we took over my family’s business.”
Giles shrugged and went back to tallying the day’s transactions. “You’re right dear.”
Jenny smiled, went behind the counter, and slid between his body and the till. “The fact that you can admit that does wonders to me. Wanna go in the training room and see for yourself?”
He glanced to the side at the wall-mounted clock. “We have an hour or so until Buffy should arrive.” His smile was downright devilish as his hands travelled up her sides. “You are a very bad influence. Maybe you should be punished for your wanton ways.”
A delicious tingle spread through her body. “Not if I get there first.”
They both sprinted to the door, with Giles beating her by an inch. He looked too smug, so Jenny decided maybe next time she wouldn’t let him win. The look he gave her, though, made her rethink her decision. There were no losers in their games, anyway.
He opened the door and held it for her to go first.
“Thank you, Mr. Giles”
“You’re welcome, future Mrs. Giles.”
She gave him a big smile, as she always did when he reminded her of their upcoming wedding.
~~~***~~~
*One week later, tunnels underneath Sunnydale*
The final pickaxe swing did it: there was a small crack in the wall which opened up in another chamber. If Spike’s heart were beating, it would be thumping against his ribcage like crazy. He made quick work of widening the opening enough to crawl through. He’d done it. He’d found the treasure trove that held the Gem.
Before he had a chance to truly stand and enjoy the moment, Harmony and Sunday mobbed the entrance, pushing each other the whole way and screaming about being first in. They were both in such a hurry that only after they probably only realized there was no light inside after they slithered through. “Spikey, come on, get in here, it’s too dark and I’m sure I just stepped in something.”
He grabbed a torch from Dalton and crawled through the hole himself. It was breathtaking. Piles and piles of treasure everywhere, and somewhere, possibly hiding in plain sight, there had to be the Gem of Amara.
“So… are we going to be splitting this evenly, or what?”
“I guess, sure.” Spike was only half-listening to what Sunday had to say. What he really wanted was to figure out which ugly ass piece of jewelry was the Gem. He felt drawn to an amulet, so he put it on and looked around for a cross or something to test it out with.
Harmony was modelling some ring she’d found on a table. “So you think we could go to Paris now? We don’t really need to sit around and wait for those Initiative guys to get us.”
“Brian and I are leaving as soon as we split the money.”
Spike frowned. What did his right hand man have to do with his so-called consort number one?
Harmony turned and vamped out. “No you don’t, you bitch. He promised he’d take me to Paris.”
Sunday vamped out too. “Over my undead body.”
Spike took a step between them. “Who said anything about leaving? We still have a battle to fight, and a Slayer to kill. Remember that plan?”
Sunday snorted. “As if. You’re about as close to doing anything on either of those fronts as I am to a perfect suntan.”
“You’re going to go get a suntan? Can we go to those tanning parlors? Won’t they, like, kill us, or something?”
“Ohmygod, shut up.” Sunday picked up a piece of wood up off the floor and rammed it into Harmony’s chest.
“I can’t believe you just did that. I even went down on you that one time, even though I’m so not into chicks, and you stake me?” She whipped out the stake from her heart and threw it at Sunday.
Spike all but froze. Harmony found it. He wasn’t sure who was more surprised by Harmony’s attack of the three of them, but Sunday was definitely the madder. She ripped out the makeshift stake from her shoulder and made to go after Harmony again.
Brian showed up right on time to block Sunday’s fist. “What’s going on? I thought we’d be celebrating.” His hands slid down from her shoulders to cup her ass.
“That’s what I thought, but I guess you prefer the fraternity slut.”
Brian shrugged. “There’s always room for one more. Three shares would go a long way.” He narrowed his eyes. “But I gotta ask. How’d you survive being staked?” He turned to Spike. “Is there something you want to tell us, boss?”
Spike moved as fast as he could, grabbed Harmony’s hand and forced the ring off. “Pirate captains get a choice of a boon from every treasure. I choose this as my boon, you can share everything else evenly.”
“We’re not pirates. Are we pirates? I thought we were simply vampires.”
Spike was getting fed up with her. “No, Harm, we’re not really pirates, but we’re on the outside of society, living by our own laws, and we’re digging for treasure. That’s close enough, I think.”
Brian narrowed his eyes. “Why do I get the feeling that if I were to take everything else in this cave, I’d still be getting shafted?”
Spike took a step back and lit up a cigarette. “That’s because you’re smarter than the average minion. Just between you and me, most Masters wouldn’t like a minion with brains. Lucky for you I do.”
There was a spark of greed in the other man’s eyes. “So we share everything, right? Fair’s fair.”
Spike raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at Sunday and Harmony, still sneering at one another over who’d get to accompany Brian out of town. “Looks to me we were already sharing more than I was aware of.”
Sunday shrugged “No offence, but you became kind of boring once you started this whole treasure hunt, quest, thing, whatever you’ve got going on.” She looked around the room. “Turned out well, don’t get me wrong, but the whole ‘obsessed with digging’ vibe you had going on? Not sexy.” She caressed Brian’s bicep. “Girl’s gotta keep herself entertained.”
Harmony stomped her foot. “What about me?”
Brian winked and sent her an air kiss. “You’re great too, babe.”
“Really? I’m thrilled. So glad everyone’s bloody getting along while I’m trying to take on a secret Nazi government organization set on enslaving everyone that’s not ‘human.’ Go, have fun in Paris, choke on a baguette, but I’m keeping the ring. At least I won’t use it just to get a fucking tan.”
Brian stepped forward. “Is that what that is? I don’t know, boss, I think that’s some pretty powerful bauble you got there. Why don’t you give it over?”
“Or?”
“Or, by my count, it’s three against one.”
Spike licked his lips. “That right?” He vamped out, threw the cigarette in Brian’s face, grabbed the discarded piece of wood off the floor, and dusted Sunday before she had time to switch in her game-face. He then rounded on Harmony, who made a squeaking sound and ran to cower in a corner.
Brian had recovered, though, so Spike and he started to trade blows, each looking for an opening in the other’s defenses. Spike had the added advantage of wearing the Gem. He didn’t charge in as he could have, both because Brian wasn’t a run of the mill fledge, and because he wanted to test the limitations of the Gem.
Punches and kick still hurt, but the pain was dulled. Getting stabbed was not fun, but the wound closed up at once after he pulled out the knife.
After a few minutes of back and forth Spike noticed an opening and pressed his advantage, feigned a right cross, then used his knee to bring his opponent down. He bent over Brian and broke his neck, then used another makeshift stake to finish the job. He wasn’t happy about how things had worked out, but then again, dusting two of his most trusted henchmen was a small price to pay.
He looked over at where Harmony was plastered against the back wall. “You can take a bag of gold and baubles and leave, or you can simply leave empty-handed, but the main point is: I want you out of my domain by sun-up. Got it?”
“Yes. I’ll just… okay… But Spikey, are you sure you don’t want me to stay? I’ll let you—”
Spike vamped out from where he’d relaxed after dusting Brian. “I said go.”
She cowered even further, then she stuffed a few handfuls of treasure down her blouse and made for the chamber’s opening, keeping her back to the wall the whole time.
As soon as she was gone, Spike allowed himself to relax and put the ring on. He knew this type of thing could happen again and again, with all the vamps in the world being drawn to the Gem like catnip. He’d have to deal with them as they come. In the meantime, there was a plan he needed to follow concerning a certain Slayer, and the fucking Initiative. Maybe if this plan A was successful enough, the other attempt, plan B as it were, wouldn’t be needed, and there wouldn’t be as many casualties on his side.
He frowned and set off for the wall opening. It was thoughts like these that required a healthy dose of whiskey to drown out the feeling of uneasiness. Since when was he concerned about some demons and vampires losing their lives in battle? Ah, well, nothing a couple of bottles of Jack couldn’t fix.
***
If he ever got his hands on that magical bitch, Amara, he’d not only wring her neck, he’d flay her skin off, rub it with all kinds of spices, and stick it back on again. Who’d’ve thought one of the things the blasted ring would protect him from would be inebriation? What good was it to be impervious if you couldn’t get sloshed all proper like every once in a while?
God, eternity would be hell to endure without alcohol. Maybe if he went for another kind of drink he’d feel better.
Wait. Why wasn’t he hungry? He’d been living on bagged blood for more than a week while he dug for the Gem, and the last meal he’d had was the previous night. Why weren’t his insides crawling with the need for blood?
Also, if this thing had gotten Brian to turn against him in an instant, what would it do for other, more ambitious vamps?
What exactly had he gotten himself into?

Road to Mandalay lyrics © BMG Rights Management US, LLC





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