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Chapter 29:

Things had gone perfectly. The lady from Wolfram & Hart, Lilah, had been right about everything.

The hotel had been empty when Spike had gotten there. He'd gone straight to the office and cracked the safe easily. Vampire hearing had many advantages, the ability to hear the tumblers in a lock was just one.

After he'd grabbed the scroll, he'd made sure to rummage around the office a bit. Leave his scent all over the stuff on the desk. That way Angel would figure he was just snooping. Not that there was anything worth snooping into. It was all billing and ledgers. Boring business stuff, although there were a couple of occult books on the shelf that Spike thought might fetch a pretty penny.

However, Spike didn't need the money, and he knew nothing ruined a capper quicker than getting overly greedy. Get in; get out. That was the rule.

The lorry was waiting for him, and inside was a tiny hospital, just like he'd been promised. He was a bit nervous, letting people cut into his skull, but they did what they promised. He shoved one of the human doctors on the way out just to be sure.

It took every ounce of evil in Spike to keep him from skipping and whistling down the street once he left the lorry.

He reentered the hotel and found Buffy asleep on the ottoman, curled around the center. He knelt down in front of her and watched her sleeping form. So beautiful, so fragile, so delicate. When she was asleep it was hard to imagine all the strength her slight frame contained, all the pain.

As carefully as he could, he lifted her up into his arms. He followed the trail she'd left earlier in the day to the room she'd taken for her own, and put her stuff in. Gently he laid her down on the bed.

As he set her head down on the pillow, her eyes fluttered open. "You came back." She sounded surprised.

"Told you I would. Have you been in the sewers?"

"Do I smell?" she sat up and tried to sniff herself. "I smell, don't I?"

"No, not at all."

"Liar." She took one of his hands in hers and ran her thumb over the back of his hand. "Is tomorrow night good?"

"For what?"

"You said you'd take me out. I got tickets; tomorrow at 5:00."

"What sort of show starts at five?"

"It's a surprise. Don't you trust me?" she gave him a wicked grin. Then her face became serious. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" he couldn't seem to get a finger on her mood.

"For earlier, for freaking out. I. . . I didn't know about all that claiming stuff and. . . well. . . I AM the Slayer. It was just an instinct thing, you know?"

"I know a thing or two about that. It's okay, pet." Part of him wanted to give her a hard time, but mostly he was just so surprised by the whole turn of events that he figured he should just go with it. "What brought all this on, anyhow?"

"Let's just say, a day in the sewer gives a girl a new perspective on her love life."

"Gee thanks."

"That's not what. . . I need to shower and sleep. Go away while we still like each other," she joked.

He nodded, kissed her on the forehead, and left to find a room as far away from Angel's as possible.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

It had been a long and very boring day. Angel hadn't come back and the sun was up. Spike had nothing to do but watch his minions scurry about, trying to suss out why Wolfram & Hart had brought Darla back. That might have been somewhat entertaining, but Buffy was worried too. She paced back and forth over the hotel lobby, coming up with all the things that might have happened.

Finally, Spike had offered to take Buffy through the sewers to look for the missing Poof, but she'd said something about having seen enough of L.A.'s sewers to last a life time, and gone on pacing.

Around three thirty he had to stop her in her pacing and remind her they were supposed to be going out.

"But Angel isn't-"

He put a finger to her lips.

"He's a big boy. He'll be fine. Bet you anything that five minutes after sundown he strolls right through those doors. Besides, thought you were looking forward to tonight? Got tickets and everything. You wouldn't want to miss out on whatever torture you've set up for me, eh?"

She smiled at that, and went to get dressed. He did the same. He was wrong, though, it wasn't five minutes after sundown that Angel came back. It was fifteen.

Spike was hanging out down by the front desk - trying not to be self conscious in his tuxedo as Gunn made fun of him - when Angel brooded his way through the door.

Angel was half way up the stairs when he noticed that instead of his leather duster, Spike was wearing a long black overcoat coving his tux. Angel just stared for a moment, shrugged, and turned to go back upstairs.

As if the angel of bad timing was watching over them, Buffy chose that moment to make her appearance. She wore a red silk dress with a v-neck that Spike thought displayed her cleavage to its full advantage. It didn't have sleeves, instead two large straps continued the 'v' of the neck, settled just off her shoulders.

The skirt was belted with a red sash and hung down to her knees. The bottom hem wasn't quite straight though, and the slight ruffle made the skirt look like an upside down rose bud. It was the sort of dress that just begged you to run your hands over all the lovely curves of the girl wearing it.

Buffy had fully done herself up. She almost always wore makeup, but Spike thought she might have taken extra care this time. Her full lips had been colored to match the dress; she had just the slightest blush to her cheeks, and just a hint of eye shadow to bring out her emerald eyes.

She had put her hair up, too, into a french twist revealing the graceful sweep of her neck. Her bare neck called to him. He wondered if she had any idea that she was all but wearing a 'bite me' sign. She was every vampires fantasy. The most beautiful delectable thing Spike had ever seen.

That's when it occurred to him for the first time. He could bite again. No more chip. If he wanted he could take Buffy out back and drain her dry. He wouldn't of course. He would never hurt her. As desperate as he was to taste her blood, he vowed to himself that his fangs would never again touch her unless she asked for them.

But that wasn't the point. All day long he'd listened to that Cordelia girl whine and complain about this that and the other, and he'd never thought of biting her - and she was a fairly bitable creature. He could now easily snap Wesley and Gunn's necks, but he'd never even considered using violence against them. He hadn't even thought of picking off an innocent bystander. Nothing stood between him and the bloodshed he'd so loved, yet he hadn't even considered killing anyone.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a growl from Angel, who'd stayed frozen on the stairs, looking up at Buffy. Spike became aware that Buffy's appearance had had a similar effect on every man in the room. He was willing to bet that they were all having similar fantasies about grabbing her by her hips, shoving her against a wall, and shagging her senseless. The difference was, Spike was the one who had a real hope of living out that fantasy.

She was dressed up for him, not for Angel, and he could tell that was driving Angel nuts.

She started down the stairs. As she passed Angel, he grabbed her elbow and growled at her, "Where do you think you're going?"

"Out. With Spike," she said coldly. She tried to move past him, but he still held her arm. "Let go."

When he didn't comply, she yanked her arm out of his grasp and then elbowed him in the stomach. He was so much taller than her, that she was forced to angle the blow upward, and it sent him backward over the railing of the stairs and crashing down to the floor.

A moment ago, Spike would not have thought he could have been more attracted to her. He was wrong. The effortless way she dealt with Angel reminded him that this tiny woman was the strongest, most dangerous person in the room. His fantasy changed to one of her throwing him to the ground, ripping off his clothes, and riding hard and fast.

He moved forward to meet her and offered her his hand to guide her down the last few steps. She smiled at him as she took it. He led her out toward the hotel entrance. Just as they got to the door, he looked back at where Angel was picking himself up off the floor.

"Don't wait up," Spike said.

Then he leaned over and kissed Buffy lightly on the neck. His lips barely grazed her skin, but even so, her heart sped up a little. He smirked at Angel over her shoulder. It was a symbolic gesture. Whenever Angelus had taken Drusilla away from Spike, he'd always bitten her neck to reinforce the fact that Dru belonged to him and not Spike.

Once they were outside he stopped and faced her.

"Where are my manners? You look. . . gorgeous doesn't even begin to describe it."

"Thanks," she said graciously. "You look pretty wonderful yourself."

She pinched the button flap of his shirt and ran the joints of her fingers down his chest. Her tongue peaked out from between her red lips, and her pupils dilated slightly. He could smell the beginnings of her arousal. Spike was suddenly filled with hope that she'd forget about the show and take him on the hood of his DeSoto. But then she took a step back.

"We're going to be late," she said with a touch of regret.

He held the car door open for her and helped her in.

When she gave him the address he asked her, "Are you sure that's right?"

She nodded, but suddenly she was very nervous.

"So what is it we're going to see, anyway?" When she didn't answer, he pushed a little harder. "Come on, pet. I'm about to find out anyway. Promise I won't turn the car around. I'm committed to. . . whatever it is you've chosen."

She took a deep breath, "Okay, you know how you told me about the oranges and stuff?" He nodded. "Well I thought. . . you see. . . It'stheiceshowokay?" she finished in one breath.

Not sure what to say, he just glanced at her and cocked an eyebrow.

"Look, it's not what you think. It's not just cartoon characters. Some of them are olympic athletes, and the things is. . . my dad. . . he used to take me when I was a kid, for my birthday. What you said about oranges, that's how I feel about the ice show. It was. . . it was our special thing. Even Dawn only came one time, but she was scared by the giant mouse and. . . "

"Dawn?" he asked.

"You know, Dawn? My bratty kid sister."

"Right. Of course. Thought you said something else."

'Bugger,' he thought. 'They messed up my brain digging that chip out.' How could he have forgotten about the 'bit?

"So anyway, I thought. . . I wanted to share something from my childhood with you. You know, something special. You're not mad are you?"

"No, luv. I'm not mad."

Actually he was rather - thrilled wasn't the right word - but happy that she would choose to share something personal with him. Bring him in on one of her private rituals. And he figured he could survive this, and her birthday wasn't until January, so he'd have about four months until he'd have to endure this again.





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