Buffonia is a boy and Spike is William at the moment so that's how I've written them as seen from the respective pov's. All should become clear.......And thank you so much for the reviews:-))
Chapter 3
At the summons, the Dark Lord strode forward, humming under his breath and with the confidence of one who knows that every hair is in place. Black cloak swirling behind him, helmet under his arm, he entered the inner sanctum, approached the throne and knelt at the feet of the shadowy figure seated regally before him.
“Ooh, new shoes?” he said looking down.
“You like?” the Empress replied, lifting a foot.
“I do. How many pairs?”
“Nine. Not too many do you think?”
Darth Angel raised his eyebrows. “You have to keep up appearances, Empress. Your reputation as the Dark Lady stands and falls by your ability to keep the masses in your thrall.”
“I know,” the Empress said slumping back into her throne with a sigh. But really, nothing goes with this stupid cloak. Whoever invented these super-villain costumes, Darth? I’m nothing more than a walking cliché in this thing. And who was Imelda Marcos?”
“An earth woman, I do believe,” Darth Angel said standing up. “Famous for her love of shoes.”
“And being compared to her is a good thing?”
“Most certainly, my Lady.”
“Because apparently I’m becoming known as the Imelda Marcos of the galaxy, and the article? Not flattering.”
“Ignore them, my Lady. The tabloids have nothing better to do with their time. Would you like me to order all the editors horribly killed for daring to criticise you?”
“No,” the Empress said after a lengthy consideration. “Let them talk about shoes. At least that means they’re giving the Death Star a rest. Sometimes it’s so hard being evil.”
Tell me about it,” Darth Angel said. “So the fandango pink didn’t go down well?”
“They hate it. Look at this.” An elegant hand thrust a news-sheet at him and he read…
Empress in Death Star Disaster. The Summerians are liable to die lie laughing when the Empress finally reveals that the Death Star, which is capable of taking out whole planets with its awesome firepower, is to be painted fandango pink…”
The Empress rose and started pacing. “I was just trying to show my softer, feminine side. I mean, what’s the point of having the latest in Death Stars if no one’s going to notice it?
“Calm down, my Lady,” Darth said producing an array of colour charts from under his cloak. “Rome wasn’t built in a day, as the old saying goes. Perhaps rose-bloom would be a tad more subtle? Or earth tones? I hear they are very in this year.”
“Maybe,” the Empress said irritably waving away them away. “I’m tired of this. What news of the Slayer?”
“Ahh, the Slayer.” Darth Angel steepled his fingers and gave one of his evil grins. “The latest incarnation has been found.”
“And captured? The Empress said, hopefully.
“Not yet, my Lady, but it’s only a question of time.”
“So.” The Empress leaned forward. “Do tell.”
Darth smiled his wicked smile. “It’s Princess Buffonia.”
“I knew it,” the Empress said clapping her hands. “Didn’t I say it would be?”
“You’re never wrong, my Lady.”
“So, you haven’t got her yet, but her capture is imminent?”
“As good as done, O she-who-must- not-be-named.”
“It must be done, and soon. I’m vulnerable only to the Chosen One, you know that. And once the Jedi get hold of her they will send her to kill me.”
“Never going to happen.”
“But why isn’t she already caught? Send in a couple of agents undercover and bring her in. I must have her alive, for the ritual, you know that.”
“Ahh.” Darth Angel looked up. “Already thought of that one, but it seems our little bird has flown the nest.”
“What?” the Empress looked around, alarmed. “Do you realise she may already be here?”
“We will find her, O Beautifully-Groomed-One. I’ve offered a substantial reward for her capture. Every loyal Vampirian will deem it his duty to bring her in, have no fear.”
“But, her friends will be many, and the Jedi are not all drunken old men, despite what you hear. She’ll be well protected.”
“But there’s always someone who needs money more than they need their friends, right?”
“True. Whatever you’ve offered, double it. We must have her.”
“Consider it done, Most-Fashion-Conscious-One. She will be betrayed, and then nothing will stand between us and the riches of Summeria, or the threat from Somnambula.”
“And this heart of hers?” The Empress leaned forward, her face twisted with disgust. To which, can I say Euwww! Does it have to be the heart?”
“Yes my Lady, it does. But don’t worry they taste like chicken.”
“You’ve heard this?”
“Heard it?” Darth Angel indulged himself in a quick, but very evil laugh. “I know it, Empress.”
-----------------------------------
Her lips still tingled with the memory of the kiss. And she was more than a little giddy with the realisation that life was just like a romantic novel, after all.
There had been fireworks. And a hundred-piece orchestra had struck up out of nowhere. Her first kiss had been with a complete stranger who she’d been mysteriously attracted to, even though he wasn’t actually her type. And, now, as with all good bodice-ripping romances, he was being a complete bastard and leaving her vulnerable by taking all her money while glaring at her in a masterful way. Though how he was managing that in those ridiculous eyeglasses, she had no idea.
Only there were going to be no bodices ripped in this story, she thought, as they walked towards the docking bay. Not while he believed she was a boy, anyway. She hadn’t missed the panic in the kiss, passionate though it had undoubtedly been.
Get a grip, she told herself. When had life ever been like a romantic novel? They were a fantasy and anyway, she didn’t do eyelash-batting, or swooning. That was for air-headed heroines who had idealised and clichéd ideas about love.
Then where had the fireworks come from? And that music?
She sneaked another glance, and received a bad-tempered scowl in return which caused a ripple of excitement from the top of her head to the tip of her toes. He’d felt unexpectedly solid under those ridiculous clothes with more than a hint of rippling muscles in all the right places. And when he’d thrown her against the wall just now… All she’d wanted to do was grab him by the collar, drag him down to her and kiss him all over again until all the buildings fell down, and they’d still be kissing unaware of anything but what they were doing.
Now she knew why all this stuff had been done away with long ago in preference to sex with machines. She’d never had this reaction to her orgasminator, even though it had been her best friend for as long as she could remember.
Way too distracting. She coughed and shook her head to clear her mind. Get back to the plot, Buffonia. Leave the planet, the mad Jedi with his strange pronouncements and this marriage of convenience as far behind as she could, and channel some of this new-found strength into a career as a bounty hunter. Or should that be bounty huntress?
“So what do I call you?”
A boy’s name, she needed a boy’s name since she couldn’t be Buffonia any more.
“That Jedi back there called you Buffonia. Strange name for a boy,” William observed.
“Buff, my name is Buff,” she said hastily.
“Buff?” William cocked his head and scrutinised her with what looked suspiciously like cerulean blue eyes, but she’d need a colour chart to check that one. And he was frowning, because she was staring, she realised. And when had his voice started to sound like roughened silk?
When he’d said her name, that’s when.
Yes, her mother had been right. Sex with a machine need not take up more than a short space in the day, leaving ample time for fulfilling hobbies, charity works and the like. But this? This was liable to take up every waking minute of every day. It was likely to muddle your thoughts and fill your mind with pictures that were all the same. Being infatuated was quite probably a full-time job, and one she didn’t have time for right now.
“Buff.” He said it again and his expression softened. “Well, Buff. Welcome aboard the Millennium Bug.”
Buffonia stared in dismay at the battle-scarred spaceship parked haphazardly in docking bay five hundred and six. “It’s a pile of junk,” she said before she could stop herself.
It was small, to start with. Much smaller than she’d imagined, and old – that was obvious from the welded-on metal patches, to the antiquated design. She hadn’t seen many spaceships, but she’d certainly never seen one like this before.
William’s look of pride, that had been evident only moments before as he’d introduced her to what was obviously his beloved ship, faded at her disbelieving expression.
“You’re looking at the ship that made the Kessel run in less than twelve parsecs,” he said with more than a hint of defensiveness in his voice. “She’s outrun Imperial Vampirian cruisers. The big ones,” he said holding out his hands as if he was boasting about some aquatic animal that he’d caught. “I’m not talking about the local ships. And I’ve made a lot of special modifications myself. She’ll get you where you want to go. Now,” he swept his arm expansively. “If you’ll get your skinny ass inside, I’ll show m’lord to his suite.”
“A suite? Cool.” Buffonia gave him a bright smile and fairly skipped up the gangplank completely missing William’s rolling eyes and raised eyebrows. The ship was obviously bigger than it looked then, and perhaps this part of her journey to freedom wasn’t going to be as bad as she’d feared after all?
The large, hairy creature that sprang out at them, growling and baring its teeth took her completely by surprise. And when she saw that it was going straight for William, she couldn’t help reacting. “Look out William,” she cried, launching herself at him and knocking him into the wall. They both went down in a tangle of limbs and much cursing from William who was struggling to get up as soon as he hit the floor. Buffy grappled for the blaster as the hairy creature calmly bent down and grabbed her by the arm.
“Get away from him,” she shouted, twisting the weapon around and half strangling William in the process since he still had it slung over his shoulder. “I’m not afraid to use this.”
The creature tightened its grip and swung her clean from the floor by her forearm, raising her into the air so that she was dangling indecorously, her feet paddling frantically as she fought to free herself.
“Put him down, Chewie.”
She saw William stand up and dust himself off, totally unconcerned that the creature had apparently been about to rip his head off. The creature made another series of guttural growls.
“Yeah, I know,” William answered it. “Me too, but we can’t. We’ve got ourselves a passenger.”
More growling, and even though she didn’t speak the language she could tell the creature wasn’t happy with that notion.
“Don’t worry,” William told it as he fumbled in his pocket. “He’s paying his way. Here.”
The creature, who she now knew was called Chewie, held out his other hand as William counted out half of her credits into it. Chewie tucked the money into the gun-belt slung cross-wise over his chest. Without a backward glance he dropped her onto the floor, growled again, then ducked down and followed William through a bulkhead, into the interior of the ship.
Buffonia hit the metal deck with a thud, her heart still racing from the encounter, and wondering what on earth had got into her. Defending William? She’d done that without a second thought, but only because she needed him to drive this thing and get her off the planet. And that was the only reason, she told herself firmly. But taking on that big walking carpet? That was something else entirely and she could only think that these bursts of power she was feeling were something to do with being the Chosen One as the annoying Jedi kept trying to tell her. It was confusing, and more than a little frightening.
Rubbing at her strained shoulder she sat up, and all she wanted to do was have a good cry. It was all very well talking the talk and walking the walk, but there was only so much talking and walking she could do at one time and she found, as she struggled to her knees, that the energy that had got her this far was suddenly all used up and, perhaps, she did do swooning after all.
“You okay?”
Buffonia glanced up and saw William leaning against the bulkhead, arms folded, head tilted as he looked down at her.
“I think so,” she said feeling embarrassed now at her faux-pas. She gave him a rueful smile. “I take it you know walking carpet-guy?”
William extended his hand and helped her up. “That’s Chewie, my partner. A word of advice,” he said flicking a few spots of dirt from her cloak. “It’s not wise to upset a Wookie.”
“Well, how was I suppose to know,” she shot back. Swallowing the tears because what good would they do her? He was watching her intently as she rubbed her shoulder again.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.” She turned away so he wouldn’t see the pained expression on her face. “Okay, yes, but I’ll be fine.” She turned back and squared her shoulders. “Just show me to my suite and a long, hot steam-bath should make everything better. And if you could let me have the menu, I’ll make my selection for dinner tonight.”
“Are you for real?” William asked her shaking his head. “I can see you’re hurting. Let me look.”
“I’m fine,” she repeated resolutely. “See?.” She managed to rotate her injured arm without pulling too much of a face and William shrugged.
“Suit yourself,” he said handing her the bag. “Follow me then, and I’ll show you were you can stow your stuff.”
Buffonia did as she was told, walking behind him through a short corridor and several doors that slid back as they approached until he ushered her into what looked like a very small lounge. A panoramic window wrapped around one end of the room which was simply furnished with several hard-looking bench seats, a low, central table and a computer console. The walls were mostly bare metal with exposed cables hanging in bundles and there was a faint smell of some oily substance. She looked around, bemused.
“Your suite,” William said, with a smirk. “Oh, and I’ll have the chef bring along the menus for your perusal and then perhaps you’d like to use the hot-tub?”
It was exactly the wrong time for tears, and it wasn’t even the crappiness of her situation, or William’s sarcasm that finally broke the dam that had been so steadfastly holding them back. It was the fact that, as she contemplated the hard bench where she was to sleep, she suddenly remembered that in her hurry to leave, she’d left Mr Gordo, her cuddly pig behind. And she couldn’t remember a night when she’d slept without him on her bed. He’d been with her from the day she was born and stuck with her through thick and thin. And now, when she was embarking on her greatest adventure of all, he wasn’t here.
Sometimes we just need an excuse to cry tears that need to be shed. Mr. Gordo was hers. Buffonia dropped her bag, covered her face with her hands and let them come.
------------------------------------------
Oh heck, not tears. Anything but tears.
Even though Spike knew they’d been threatening, the suddenness of them startled him. He took a step back and, for a moment, could do nothing but stand and stare stupidly as, in a melt-down of monumental proportions, the lad proceeded to bawl his eyes out.
“Hey,” Spike said eventually. “Can’t be that bad, surely?”
Buff nodded vigorously and continued with his noisy sobbing.
Spike reached out and tentatively patted him on the shoulder. Somewhere in Spike’s past there were tears. Not the everyday kind that are shed, and forgotten. These were serious tears. The kind that left scars. He couldn’t remember the why’s and the where-fore’s. He just knew that tears cut him deeper than any blade ever could.
And he hadn’t missed the hissing intake of breath when he’d touched Buff’s shoulder.
“You can have my cabin,” he said dipping his head and trying to catch Buff’s eye. “Since you’re paying, and all. Would that help?”
“N, No,” Buff choked out.”
“What would then?”
“M, Mr Gordo.”
“Who’s Mr. Gordo?”
“My pig.”
“You’re crying because you want a pig?”
Buff nodded and gulped. “He’s my best friend. My only friend,” he added.
Spike tried another shoulder pat. “Come on. You got me, haven’t you? And Chewie.”
Buff gave him a sideways look.
“Okay, maybe not Chewie, yet. But he’ll come round. He’s just one big softie under all that, you know, growling.”
Buff sniffed, rubbed at his nose and finally, wiped it on his sleeve. “I’ll sleep here,” he said, in a small voice. “You’re really my friend?”
“Look like you could use one. Mr. Gordo, a pet, was he?”
“Just a toy, really. A link to my past. It would have been nice…”
“Hey,” Spike said shepherding the boy towards the bench seat because his eyes were blurring again and Spike didn’t think he could cope with another round of tears. “Tell you what, I’ll buy you another one. A, real one. How about that?”
“I don’t want a real pig.”
There was a bit of a smile now, and Buff allowed himself to be seated. Spike’s arm almost went around him instinctively and he had to remind himself firmly that boy huggage was not of the good, no matter how natural it felt to want to do it. Or how manly he might try to pretend it was. They sat in silence for a few moments, staring at the walls, each of them lost somewhere in their own thoughts until Spike heard a soft groan.
“Are you going to let me look at that?” Spike moved a hand, Buff jerked away.
“No, I’m fine.”
“The hell you are.” Spike turned and contemplated the boy’s dirty, tear-stained face. “If he’s popped the joint it’ll just swell up and be harder to put back. Come on, stop being such a girl and let me fix it for you.”
Buff sighed and flicked him a curious glance. And, despite his protests, there was very little left in the way of defiance. The lad was wilting visibly, right in front of him.
“Take your…” Spike pointed to the boy’s shirt, his voice reduced to a low mumble at the guilty thrill his request fired through him. “You’ll have to…or I can’t…look just take it off.”
Buff muttered something which Spike didn’t catch, then undid the ties to his cloak. It fell quietly onto the bench behind him and Spike could have sworn he heard his own heart thump, once, very hard. Buff’s hands were trembling and Spike followed every graceful movement with eyes that were so hungry they could have eaten him right up there and then. Spike put his own hands together to stop them shaking and clamped them over his groin.
He didn’t get hard-ons watching boys undress. He didn’t. It was wrong, and it was perverse, and it was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. Slim fingers toying with the pearly buttons. Hesitant, lingering, while Spike mentally urged him on and felt himself grow even harder. The top one slipped open and Spike leaned forward, ever so slightly, his eyes narrowing when Buff glanced upwards as if he was asking him silently if that would be enough. There were two fascinating spots of violet colour slowly spreading across the boy’s cheeks and Spike wanted to reach out and touch them to see if they were as hot as they looked. And to find out if his skin really was the texture of wild silk. Because that’s exactly how it looked in the glow of the cabin lights.
“One more,” he heard himself say and swallowed hard as Buff’s hands slipped down to the second button. It was like having his own private dancer and for a moment Spike’s whole focus was on the movement of Buff’s fingers and the ache, low down in his own body, throbbing with the painful anticipation of seeing Buff’s naked chest. Buff slipped the second button out of its buttonhole and shook back his head, almost as if he’d had long hair at some time and had forgotten that he didn’t any more.
Spike filled in the visuals as Buff discreetly dropped the shirt over the shoulder, along with the strap of some underclothing, holding the rest firmly against himself. With long hair he’d be darned near irresistible, Spike thought lifting a hand and finding, to his dismay, that it was trembling too. Buff ducked away, but Spike caught him by his good shoulder and held him still.
“Not going to hurt you,” he said. “Can I…? He hovered a hand over Buff’s injured shoulder, and, at the boy’s nod he touched, it very lightly with one finger. Buff closed his eyes and wet his bottom lip with his tongue. Spike swallowed down his panic and the room began to spin slowly around somehow drawing him nearer and nearer to the boy’s mouth, where a bead of moisture glistened, just begging to be licked off.
“Does this hurt?” he asked flattening his hand then curving it around the joint.
Buff opened his eyes, his gaze flickering from Spike’s hand to his face. He raised his own hand, placing it on Spike’s fore-arm.
“S’okay, you can trust me,” Spike assured him, his voice low and soothing. “What colour was this pig then?”
“Pink..Ow!”
Buff stiffened all over as Spike deftly popped the joint back in place.
“Ow!” Buff cried again, his hand shooting up to cover Spike’s which was still wrapped around the shoulder. Spike couldn’t avoid the other one which came flying towards him in the form of a balled fist that caught him on the side of the jaw and snapped his head around into the hard back-rest of the seat.
“God’s blood, what was that for?” Spike grunted. He touched his jaw where it still felt the imprint of the blow and ducked sharply as the fist came at him again. This time he caught it in mid-air and slid his other hand around Buff’s neck, holding him firmly in place. Buff squirmed and wriggled, but Spike wasn’t about to let go. “Stop it,” he said. “What the hell’s got into you?”
“That hurt.”
Buff struggled again and Spike had to wonder at the determination of the lad who was fighting him despite the pain he must be in. “Keep still then,” he said capturing Buff’s hand and holding it firm against his side. “All over now, but if you don’t keep it still I’m going to have to do it again. Do you hear me?”
The tension drained out of the boy’s body slowly. Spike watched every muscle relax in turn as Buff calmed down and the trust returned. It had been the best way. The quickest and the least painful, even if it had to have hurt some, and Spike was strangely pleased to see such a show of spirit when the boy had looked so defeated moments before. Although he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to be kissing, or fighting the boy just then. The kiss had made him tingle all over, but the struggle had caused a surge of feeling that had hit him like a tidal wave. And now all he wanted to do was throw himself at the lad, pin him to the seat and never let him go.
Even for Spike, who was especially prone to falling in love, it was an extreme reaction. The shirt was still tantalisingly hanging over one, white shoulder and just to prove to himself that he still did have control he forced himself to take the material carefully in his fingers and smooth it back into place. Buff watched him warily and he heard a quiet “sorry.”
“Me too,” Spike replied, equally as quietly, not sure if he was saying it because he’d had to hurt him, or because Buff was a boy and Spike wasn’t gay so he shouldn’t be sitting here having thoughts he couldn’t stop. “Painkillers,” he said. “Would you like some painkillers?”
Buff fumbled for his cloak and Spike breathed an inward sigh of relief as he pulled it on and wrapped it around himself, hiding the flash of skin that was visible where the shirt fell open at the front. Covering up the temptation that was rapidly becoming irresistible.
Spike was a falls fast and hard kind of guy, always had been. He knew that and usually took better care than this. He’d had his fingers burned before and the pain that Dru had left him with had been intense. Bad enough that he should have still been feeling it. And he had been, up till today.
Bloody hell, he thought standing up and putting much needed distance between him and the delightful package sitting on the bench. Love’s bitch one way or another. What the hell was wrong with him?
---------------------------------
O B finally managed to get through to Yoga, and luckily the small, wrinkly Jedi master seemed fairly with it, and not too inebriated.
“Not co-operating is she?” Yoga asked, in that strange backwards way he had of speaking. “Not now my dear,” he said turning to the dark haired beauty sitting beside him on the meditation mat. “Important this is. With you in a moment, I will be.”
The girl blew a kiss through pouty lips and ran her finger down Yoga’s arm.
“Don’t be long, baby,” she said in a husky drawl, sliding to the other side of the mat.
“You too,” Yoga said to the blonde on his other side. “Resume our training we will when I have spoken to O B Gyn.”
The second girl moved to join the first and Yoga straightened his cloak and turned his attention back to the screen. “So,” he said “The Chosen One does not come willingly?”
“She most certainly does not,” O B said rubbing his jaw at the memory of his previous encounter with Buffonia. And how does he do that? He thought jealously eyeing up Yoga’s latest trainees. “The force is strong with her, but she’s unpredictable. I fear I may not be up to the task of Watcher. Perhaps you would like to…?”
“Impossible,” Yoga snapped with a flick of his hand. “Forged at birth the Watcher – Slayer bond is, you know that. Undone it cannot be. Stuck with her, you are.”
O B bowed to Yoga’s superior wisdom. “Then I shall redouble my efforts,” he said steadfastly. She is our only hope against the Dark Lady. The only one who can deliver the killing blow. She will fulfil her destiny.”
“Stronger every day is the Vampirian Empire becoming. Almost complete the Death Star is.”
O B paled and a cold shiver ran down his spine. The Death Star. With it, the Vampirians would be invincible. “She was to have been married into the Sleepwalker clan,” he informed the Jedi master.
Yoga sighed. “Help them that will not. Find her, O B. Trained she must be, and instilled in her the destiny of her fate.”
“As you wish, master.” O B’s hand hovered over the monitor switch. “I may use any means to bring her in?”
“Most certainly,” Yoga replied. Pursing his lips he closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment. Then he opened them and leaned towards the screen. “A friend she will find, and unexpected it will be. Get to her you must before the bond is irreversible, or lose her you will.”
O B Frowned. “Yes, I’ve felt it too. The Dark Side?”
“Perhaps. Strong is the Dark Side. Tempted she will be.”
“Then I will find her.” O B bowed and flicked off the screen as Yoga turned his attention back to his trainees. Slayers in waiting. Ready to pick up the sword and fight, despite the terrible odds. If Buffonia failed to kill the Empress another would step up to take her place, and another and they wouldn’t stop until the figure-head of the Vampirian Empire was dead. Only then would order return to the galaxy.
O B removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. All these prophetic pronouncements were giving him a headache so he called for his droid who was always, inevitably hovering outside the door.
“You wanted me?” C-I-Told-You-So shuffled through and bustled around enthusiastically. “How can I serve you master?”
“A back rub would be nice,” O B said leaning into his chair.
“And that other thing you like so much?”
“Yes, that would be nice too.”
C I’s clever hands went to work, and O B relaxed as he contemplated the best way to bring Buffonia to heel. Drugging them was rarely successful, but in this case it might be necessary. It didn’t seem right, though and he hated having to do it because he’d at least have liked to give her a sporting chance of getting out of this alive. Drugged, she’d go willingly, but to her inevitable death. They couldn’t have it both ways.
He closed his eyes and concentrated as the droid worked. Buffonia was still on the planet, he could feel that, but for how long, he didn’t know. “Tell R U to keep an eye on all ships leaving the planet,” he said sleepily. The headache was slowly ebbing away, but the effect of the brandies was quietly taking over. “Millennium, it’s all I have at the moment. Do a sweep and see if there’s a ship of that name in dry dock at the moment. If there is, watch it carefully.”
“Of course, master. Now, if you’d just lift your cloak?”
O B sighed, and relaxed some more.
-----------------------------------------------
It was dark outside. The kind of dark you could lose yourself in. Buffonia leaned her cheek against the glass and gazed out at the black shapes of the other ships in dry dock. Dim outlines against a grey skyline, lit only by the smallest moon. It hung low in the sky and looked so near that if she reached out her hand she felt as if she could almost touch it. She rubbed absently at the tingle on the back of her neck and sat up.
The pain in her shoulder had dulled somewhat, but the painkillers would be welcome and William had disappeared what seemed like an age ago, and she’d been loath to go and look for him in case she met the big walking carpet.
The sliding door made her jump, but she was pleased to see that it was William, and he was carrying what looked like a water bottle. The tingle increased as he walked towards her, something she’d noticed earlier, but had dismissed as the after effects of the kiss they’d shared.
“There you go,” he said, handing her the bottle and a small, red pill. “That’ll sort you out. Got some business to attend to, then we’ll be on our way. Other side of the galaxy far enough for you?”
“As far away as possible,” she said grimacing as the pill went down. William watched her benevolently as she swigged from the bottle and wiped her mouth. “Your hair’s wet,” she observed.
“Is it?” He looked surprised, patting at his head and then shrugged. “Took a quick shower, that’s all. Feeling any better?”
Buffonia moved her shoulder up and down, surprised to find the pain almost gone. “That’s amazing,” she said smiling up at him. “Feeling better already.”
William returned her a smile of her own and her heart did a back-flip. He looked so different with his curls flattened down and slicked back. More handsome? She couldn’t decide which style suited him best. “What can I do?” she said. “Give me something to do. I said I’d work my passage, and I will.”
“Naa.” William pushed her back down. “Rest up. That shoulders going to be stiff for a day or two. Just sit back and enjoy the ride.”
Buffonia wriggled back into the corner of the seat and brought her knees up. “I’ve never been into hyperspace before. What’s it like?”
“You’re going to love it.” William perched himself beside her, his face positively shining with enthusiasm. “Think of the best fairground ride you’ve ever been on, and multiply it by a couple of thousand. Gets you right here.”
His palm flattened over her stomach before she could move away and everything between her waist and her knees seemed to clench at once as her breath caught in her throat. William immediately pulled back his hand as if she’d burned him, clamping it over his jaw as liquid heat flooded through her and pooled in her most sensitive places. She knew what was happening and couldn’t stop the small gasp that escaped her. Closing her eyes, she fought for control and slowly the feeling ebbed away, leaving her flushed and horribly embarrassed. Only her orgasminator and Mr Gordo had witnessed this before, but as she opened them she realised that William wasn’t looking at her because he had his eyes closed too. And he was still holding his jaw.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, grateful that he didn’t seem to have noticed her reaction to his rather intimate touch.
“Toothache,” he said in a muffled voice. He dropped his hand and made a few faces. Poked at his jaw again and pronounced himself better. “It’s gone. That’s weird, I never get toothache. What were we talking about?”
“Hyperdrive.”
William didn’t seem to be listening. Looking a little dazed, he extended his hand experimentally towards her, at the same time wriggling and touching his jaw, almost as if she wasn’t there. Then, as she moved back, he pulled it away and ran it through his hair instead. “Got a man coming to fix the hyperdrive,” he said pulling the spectacles out of his pocket and putting them on. Go get yourself something to eat if you’re hungry, galley’s that way. Shouldn’t take long to fit the part, then we’re off.”
And with that he walked across the cabin and straight into the wall.
--------------------------------------------------------
The Trader turned up, eventually. Spike willed himself calm and tried not to stare too much at the huge creature the Trader had in tow. He knew the man would have protection, he didn’t look that much of a fool, but he hadn’t reckoned on a slime demon. Chewie was going to have his hands full with that one.
“You’ve got the part?” Spike asked, squinting over the top of the eyeglasses.
“You have the money?”
“Yeah, I’ve got the money.” Spike stuck his hands in his pockets, feeling the comfort of the small weapon he had concealed there.
“Show me then.” The Trader assumed the kind of nonchalance you can only achieve when you have a slime demon standing at your back holding an enormous energy blaster. “I show you the part, you show me the money. Simple, right?”
“How do I know I can trust you?”
“You don’t,” the Trader replied. He looked Spike up and down. “Oh, and the price just doubled.”
“Doubled?” Spike’s hand tightened on the weapon. The slime demon’s fingers twitched.
“Yeah, you have a problem with that?”
“Bloody right I have a problem…”
“William…?”
Spike turned to see Buff’s head poking around the exit door to the Millennium Bug.
“I couldn’t find the…” he looked around. “Oops! I can see you’re busy,” he said raising his arms and backing up. “Catch you later.”
“Who’s this?” the Trader demanded.
“My co-pilot,” Spike replied. He turned to Buff who was still standing in the doorway doing a very good impression of a startled doe-eyed deer. “Why don’t you run along and do that thing I asked you to?”
Buff’s eyes widened. “What thing?”
Spike pasted a smile on his face, praying that Buff would take the hint and go back into the ship. Negotiations like this were delicate at the best of times, without having a loose cannon around. “Go check the navi-computer, you know like I told you…” the last part he said through gritted teeth.
Buff looked around and took another step back as he noticed what the slime demon was holding. “Oh, that thing,” he said and saluted. “You’ve got it captain. Consider it done.”
Mercifully Buff disappeared and Spike turned back to the Trader. “Sorry about that. Where were we?”
“You were about to give me two and a half million credits for these hyperdrive parts.”
“Two and a half million?” Spike took a deep breath and balled his fists. “That wasn’t the agreement.”
“Well.” The Trader grinned broadly, showing a mouthful of blackened teeth. “If you want it badly enough, you’ll pay.” He looked at the slime demon, then back to Spike. “How much do you want this?”
“About this much,” Spike replied, bringing out his weapon. There was a low growl from behind the Trader and the slime demon slid slowly to the floor. The Trader spun around and jumped when he saw the enormous Wookie.
“What in hell is this?”
“This,” Spike told him, “is you giving me the hyperdrive parts for free.” He looked up at Chewackybacky. “Took your time, mate.”
Chewie growled back.
“No, don’t kill him. Just make sure he can’t follow in a hurry.” Spike relaxed for the first time since the Trader had appeared. That was a close one, and Buff had nearly ruined everything with his inopportune appearance. How the lad was contemplating surviving alone in this galaxy was beyond Spike. Then he remembered how the lad had thrown himself between him and Chewie, earlier. He certainly has balls, he thought to himself as he went back into the spaceship to get some rope to tie up the Trader. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Chewie dragging the slime demon’s body towards the garbage disposal unit, and he thought, not for the first time what a good team the two of them made. And they should leave it at that. There’d be new opportunities on the other side of the galaxy, or however far they got, and they needed to take them. Buff wasn’t his responsibility, just a fare paying passenger and as soon as they found a suitable port they were going to dump him and go get on with their lives.
Spike trussed up the Trader and dragged him under a nearby, and very conveniently located shrub, then slung the discarded duffel-bag containing the hyperdrive parts over his shoulder. Fitting the parts wouldn’t take long so he called to Chewie to start filing a flight plan so they could be away as soon as the ship was ready. They’d forgo taking on supplies, he decided. Just in case Jasmine had tracked him here. There was enough to see them through for a while, even with an extra passenger and Buff didn’t look as if he ate much anyway.
Spike found him leaning on the doorframe to the rec room delicately nibbling on a Belgarian chocolate bar. Damn, if he didn’t make eating sexy too.
Buff licked his lips and sighed. “Isn’t this stuff divine? Best thing I’ve had in my mouth for a long time. ”
“You’ve got expensive taste then,” Spike said walking through to the engine room. Buff followed him.
“You managed to get your parts?”
“Yeah. Got him to see reason – in a manner of speaking. Here, hold this.” Spike thrust the bag at Buff and climbed up the ladder to the upper deck. Leaning over the edge, he reached down. “Pass it up to me, will you? Won’t take long to fit the circuit board, then we’re on our way.”
Buff half climbed the ladder, handed over the bag then poked his head up through the small opening and leaned his elbows on the edge. “Hey, this is cool. Which bit is the hyperdrive?”
Spike lay on his back and slid under a control panel housing the unit that gave the Millenium Bug its light-speed capabilities. “It’s all in here. Pass me that spanner will you?”
“Can I come up?” Buff handed over the spanner then slid into the small space beside Spike. “I thought it would be bigger.”
“Don’t touch anything,” Spike cautioned. “It’s just a computer really, but watch out for the energy feed. Runs off, just over there, cause I re-routed it through the main board. Gives an extra boost that way. And see this bit. Three-core instead of two? I used crypton wire because it’s lighter and carries the charge better. ‘Cos, I’ve got this theory that…” Spike bit his tongue at that point, cutting off the lecture on light-speed modifications, Spike-style that was about to spill forth big-time, and reminded himself that Buff probably wouldn’t want to be bored silly by his overenthusiastic love of hyperdrive theory.
“Theory that what?”
“Naa, it’s okay. I’m really boring when I get talking about this stuff.” The panel clicked off and he handed it to Buff. “Put that over there and then look in the bag and see if there’s something that looks like a circuit board. You do know what a circuit board looks like, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” Buff said, taking the panel, then starting on the straps of the bag. “It looks like…this?”
“You got some brains in that head of yours then?” Spike tried not to show too much relief that the parts he so desperately wanted actually were in the bag after all. Fitting it was just a matter of sliding out the old one and replacing it with the new one. Bloody Dru, she’d known exactly where to strike. First his heart, then his beloved hyperdrive. It gave him pause when he realised that a day that had started with him thinking he was going to die of a broken heart was ending with him not having given Dru more than a second thought.
And Buff was wriggling in beside him, squashing his small body into the confined space so that they were both lying side by side gazing up at the flashing lights and cables.
“So, what’s that theory then?”
“You really want to hear it?”
Buff wriggled again so that they were shoulder to shoulder. “Tell me how it works. This is all so new to me, I want to learn something real for a change. What’s this?”
Spike blinked a couple of times before gazing at the spot to which Buff was pointing. In the confined space Buff’s scent was playing havoc with his vampire senses and he could feel his cold skin burning where the lad’s shoulder pressed against his. He swallowed and tried to focus on the spot that Buff was talking about, but all he could see was a dainty hand and a slim finger adorned with a slivery looking ring. He moved away so that they weren’t touching any more, but Buff took that as a cue to get even more comfortable.
“It’s the link to the main computer,” he managed at last in a voice that didn’t sound like his own at all.
“And this?” Buff’s hand moved towards the router cable, but Spike caught it before it made contact.
“Don’ touch that,” he said slowly bring both their hands down. “It’s very…sensitive.”
“Sensitive?”
Buff’s voice was no more than a whisper and Spike told himself that he could let go any time now, but his hand had other ideas. “Yes, sensitive,” he echoed in a low voice. “How’s the shoulder?”
“Much better.”
“Good.”
“It’s like I’ve got some miracle healing capability, or something.”
“Useful.”
“I hope so.”
The whole cabin was heating up, the air between them crackling with the things they weren’t saying. They could have been talking about the latest fashions and the message would have been the same. The spaces in between the words screamed out that something was happening here, and he had a choice. Spike had to catch himself, because it felt as if he was on a conveyor belt fuelled by desire that was moving him inevitably and very insistently towards something he’d never felt before.
And he’d felt some things in his strange life. The heights of passion, the depths of despair. He’d seen things too. Things that could make you think you’d never see anything as strange again, if you lived till the end of time. But he’d never seen anything as beautiful in its simplicity as the person lying next to him. Suddenly it didn’t matter if Buff was a boy, or a girl, or any of the things in between. All that mattered was that Spike wanted to do nothing more than lie beside him and bask in his glow.
“You’re effulgent,” he said and then looked around because it didn’t sound as if that had come from his own mouth.
“I am not,” Buff said, a little indignantly, but still with a faint smile. The lad frowned and bit his lip as he thought about it. “At least, I don’t think I am What’s effulgent?”
“Means you’re all shiny and glowing, like the light of a million stars.”
Buff’s cheeks turned a beguiling shade of violet. “And when did you become a poet?”
“When I met you.”
Spike was glad he didn’t have to breathe, because he didn’t think he would have been able to anyway. And it looked as if Buff was having trouble with that too. Spike could feel the boy’s hot breath fanning over his face every time he exhaled, warming him up and it was making him dizzy and light-headed. Vampirians were cold-blooded, their circulation and heartbeats so slow, it almost felt as if they didn’t have one. When they heated up, the blood moved faster, with all the inevitable consequences.
That was all this was, Spike told himself, frantically. He was overheating and needed to cool down. Needed to go stand in the icy blast of the out-take valves. That would blow some sense into him and stop him staring like an idiot at the vein pulsing with blood on the boy’s slender neck. Effulgent? Where the bloody hell had that come from?
“William?”
Spike coughed loudly and dropped Buff’s hand. “So,” he said with as much forced jollity he could get into his tone. “What are you going to do when you get where you want to go?”
Buff let out a long breath and rolled his head towards him. “”Going to become a bounty hunter.”
It was exactly what Spike needed to release the built-up tension. He gave a long explosive laugh which tailed away when he noticed that Buff wasn’t laughing along with him.
“You don’t think I’m capable?”
“You’re going to get yourself killed on the first day.”
Buff’s face fell and Spike wanted to kick himself for the expression his words had put there. “Buff,” he said, a little more gently. “Most of the galaxy looks like Chewie, and behaves a hell of a lot worse. And I’m not going to be there to save you.”
“You needn’t worry about me,” Buff said wriggling out from under the panel. Spike watched the boy slide towards the ladder, throwing him a reproachful look as he went. “Just leave me at a convenient port and I’ll be out of your way.”
Spike lifted a hand, then let it drop. “I was just saying…”
“I know William. Everyone’s always just saying. You can’t do this, you have to do that. Well, do you know? I’m going to do exactly what I want to do, and if it gets me killed, well, that’s my choice. I don’t need a knight in shining armour. I’ll make my own destiny.”
Spike didn’t doubt that for one moment. If it could be done on determination alone the most fearsome creatures in the galaxy would fall at her feet. But it didn’t work like that. Nobody got anywhere on good intentions alone.
Spike slapped the panel back in place and followed as Buff disappeared down the ladder.
“Buff,” he called after him. “I didn’t mean…”
“Going to my room,” Buff shot back without turning and almost bumping into Chewie who was standing on the other side of the sliding door. “And will someone get this big walking carpet out of my way.”
--------------------------------------
To be a Sleepwalker was to be part of a long, proud heritage. At every crucial moment in the evolution of the galaxy there had been a Sleepwalker, snoring peacefully somewhere in the corner. Known as the clan that had slept its way through history they quite possibly would have slipped quietly into obscurity had it not been for one notable Sleepwalker known as professor Walsh who, during a rare bout of insomnia, had invented what had become known as the chip. Forged from metals found only on the Sleepwalker planet, the chip was alleged to render Vampirians completely harmless to humanoids. Only they couldn’t be sure it worked, because they’d never managed to find any Vampirians stupid enough to get themselves caught so they could test it.
In theory it was a possibility though and for this reason, every planet loyal to the Old Republic wanted to ally themselves to the Sleepwalker clan.
And for this reason, the Death Star had been born.
Riley yawned and shook his head, looking around the receiving chamber to see who was still awake and wondering how much longer his father was going to keep droning on. He’d been talking for all of five minutes, and already half of the delegation were in the land of nod, with most of the rest about to follow. His father didn’t have the honour of being the most boring man on the planet just because he was chancellor. No, he’d earned that title, one which Riley hoped to inherit one day. But, like his father, he wanted to do it the hard way. By actually being the most boring man on the planet. Not just accepting it because of his position so that it was no more than a ceremonial role.
In fact Riley had ambitions. Secret ones that he kept close to his heart. If he worked hard enough he might make the interplanetary finals and even one day be named the most boring and non-descript man in the whole galaxy.
Princess Buffonia had called him Captain Cardboard and his heart had swelled with pride. She must love him so much. He’d never heard the word boring used so much in one conversation since that day he’d first met her. Such a sexy word and proof that this marriage was going to be a match made in the heavens. His eyelids drooped as he tried to remember what she looked like. And his father droned on – something about Princess Buffonia disappearing? Oh no! he thought, as he slipped quietly into dreamland.
Tbc…
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