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Chapter 4

Vampirians were not, on the whole, nice people. After eons of regarding their Galaxy compatriots as little more than happy meals on legs, they’d now evolved past all that, but they were still regarded with distrust by most of the beings they rubbed shoulders with. They were the opportunists. They saw and they took. The spaceship that cut you up in hyperspace was inevitably piloted by a Vampirian. That group talking noisily in the poetry stacks at the local library would have once happily eaten you for lunch. The person holding up the check-out at the grocery store – you’ve guessed it.!

It had almost become a generic insult. To call someone Vampirian was to call them stubborn, insensitive, opportunistic and sometimes, downright evil. You could put money on your bastard of a boss being a Vampirian. By fair means or foul they’d managed to grab most of the best jobs in the galaxy and now, under the leadership of the Empress, they’d turned their greedy faces to loftier ambitions. The time was fast coming where a choice would have to be made. Join them, in all their formidable might, or stand with the old Republic against them.

As the Death Star neared completion the old order was beginning to shift and crumble. It was a time of change and uncertainty. A time when the Galaxy teetered on the brink of chaos.

But did Spike give a damn? The hell he did. To every rule there were exceptions and Spike was exceptional in more ways than one. He didn’t feel the pull of family, for one thing. Clan loyalty meant nothing to him. He’d never run with the herd, even as a fledgling preferring to sit quietly with his mother and study, than get into mischief with the other youngsters.

The call to arms didn’t have him rushing home to become part of the glory that was soon to be the Vampirian empire. Quite the opposite, in fact. There was money to be made out of chaos and Spike intended to milk this one for all it was worth. One Vampirian trait he did have in abundance was the opportunistic streak that made his race so ruthless. Only with Spike it had translated into a lucrative smuggling career which he’d started with an Enterprise Grant and a backpack, transporting anything for anyone across borders and through restricted airspace. Throw in a natural ability to look so innocent it would put an angel to shame, and it hadn’t been long before he’d earned himself enough money to buy the Millennium Bug.

Then he’d met Chewie. And the rest, as they say, is history. Or rather, Spike thought flicking through the final lift-off checks while Chewie started the primary ignition sequence, he was going to be history if he didn’t get his ass to the other side of the Galaxy, and pronto. It wasn’t so much raining on his parade at the moment, as blowing a hurricane through it. A few bad calls and everything he’d worked so hard for was in danger of disappearing into thin air and the sooner they were gone, the better.

Spike felt a familiar knot of excitement building low in his belly as the engines started to hum. She may be the spaceship equivalent of a broken-down old tart, lipstick all smudged, battle-scarred and way past her prime, but the Millenium Bug was his old tart, and he loved her as much as he’d ever loved anything. She wasn’t just a metal shell with an engine, she was the concrete manifestation of all his endeavours. The sum total of his life so far. Almost like a second skin.

He patted the console lovingly. “Don’t listen to him,” he said remembering Buff’s words. Pile of junk indeed. Didn’t the lad have eyes?

“Get us clear, Chewie, I’ll go fetch Buff, then we’re out of here.”

Chewie growled his agreement.

“Oh,” Spike paused. “And be careful with him, you know, fragile humanoid and all that.”

Chewie pulled his indignant face.

“You bloody well did,” Spike said good-naturedly, well used to Chewie’s defensiveness. “Darned-near pulled his arm off. Just go easy, yeah? He is paying, after all.”

Chewie raised his eyebrows.

“Okay, okay, I know it wasn’t much, but it was all he had and well…” Spike shrugged. “He’s willing to work so maybe we could get him to clean up the place a bit?” Spike ran a finger over the thick dust coating a nearby shelf. Place could do with a …” He nearly said woman’s touch, but caught himself in time. Dru certainly hadn’t been big with the domesticity and Buff, was, of course, and very unfortunately, a boy. “Look, just be nice, okay? We drop him off at the first place that’s half-way decent, then the Galaxy is our oyster, my friend.”

Chewie seemed to cheer up at that thought and turned back to his much more interesting task of starting the ship. Spike made his way to the rec room knowing that his co-pilot would at least tolerate Buff for his sake, if nothing else. And it would only be for a short while. Spike stopped and wondered why that thought was so disturbing. So Buff was very probably going to get more than his arm ripped off during his undoubtedly-brief career as a bounty hunter. So what? Wasn’t something he needed to be worrying about. Was it?

He strode on, purposefully. Not his problem if the lad wanted to get himself killed, it was still a free universe in that respect. Buff, he suspected, had a tenacity to match his own, and for a moment Spike almost felt sorry for any creature that dared to get in the lad’s way. Until he remembered what a Pth,Rai, looked like.

“Ow!” Spike clutched at his nose and stared accusingly at the door to the rec room that had remained in place when he’d tried to pass through instead of sliding back as it was supposed to when someone approached. He raised a hand and waved it across the sensor. Nothing happened. Frowning, he slid his fingers into the handle and gave it a yank.

“Go away.” Buff’s voice, muffled by the metal shield came through.

“Open the door, Buff. Seems to be stuck”, he shouted. “And I can’t get the manual over- ride to work. Try from your side.”

“I said go away. Something wrong with your hearing?”

Spike flattened his hand against the stubbornly-closed door and listened. There wasn’t anything wrong with his hearing, or any of his other senses. On the contrary. He could hear everything that was going on. His vampire awareness told him that Buff was on the other side of the metal barrier and mad as hell with him if the boy’s heartbeat was anything to go by.

“Buff,” he said flattening his hand against the cool metal and remembering their parting words in the engine room. “You need to come strap yourself in for the jump to light-speed. Packs quite a wallop and I don’t want you injured.”

There was a long silence then Spike heard a gasp and a curse as the ship rotated, and tilted sharply for lift-off. Spike grabbed the handle to stop himself falling over and braced his legs. “Come on, Buff,” he said, “lift-off’s the best bit. Open the door, huh?”

“Why should you care?”

The voice carried a hint of petulance and a hidden question within the question. Spike frowned and wondered what exactly Buff meant by that. It was almost a woman’s question. The kind of question that said one thing, but meant something else entirely. And the kind of question that a man always invariably gave the wrong answer to.

“Because you’re paying, and as captain I have to take responsibility for you.”

“So it’s just the money?”

“No, not just the money. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“But why, you’ve only just met me, you can’t care about me that much already. Go make the jump, don’t bother worrying about me.”

“Look,” Spike answered. Even if you were a Marvelian mud-rat I’d be making you come and get strapped in.”

“So it’s nothing personal then?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Spike paused for breath, his mind starting to feel like a contortionist as it grappled for the right stance. Buff went quiet, but Spike could still feel the boy’s presence, radiating an emotion he couldn’t quite work out. At first he’d thought it was anger, but now he wasn’t so sure. Buff was very close to the door, almost touching it and Spike extended his hands again and concentrated.

Acutely heightened senses were one of the many advantages of being a Vampirian and accounted in no small way for his success as a smuggler, as well as contributing towards his reputation as lover extraordinaire. There was a saying that once you’d had a Vampirian then anything else paled into comparison, and it was largely true. To be able to tune into and respond to minute changes in a woman’s body, almost before they’d felt them themselves, definitely put him ahead of the game in more ways than one, and he needed to use it now as he tried to coax Buff to come out so they could get the hell out of there.

If he wasn’t mistaken he’d have said it was mostly anxiety, rather than anger that was pouring through the door in waves. Spike sniffed and closed his eyes, feeling the fear that underlay the boy’s apparent bravado. And the more-than-slight hint of something else.

He’d known the boy was attracted to him, the lad hadn’t been able to mask that, but he hadn’t realised quite how much until now when he could feel it, like this, concentrated and distilled and without the distraction of the boy’s considerable visual charms. Hostility and defensiveness are often a mask for attraction and as Spike said Buff’s name, softly now, more persuasively since he knew he wasn’t going to succeed in ordering the boy out, he felt the boy’s heartbeat accelerate a little more and his breathing hitch in his throat.

“Come on, Buff,” he said moving closer to the door and pressing his cheek against it. “Chewie’ll be waiting for us.”

“Don’t let me keep you.”

Heat from the body on the other side of the door seeped through the metal barrier making Spike’s skin prickle and twitch, his nerve endings tingling as he bathed in his recalcitrant passenger’s aura. He imagined Buff on the other side, the boy’s slight body mirroring his own, his face pressed to the metal, hanging, with bated breath, onto his every word. Powerless to resist the pull of Spike’s silky, yet commanding tones.

“Come on,” Spike said, his voice low. “You know you want to.”

“I, I don’t.”

Spike knew a yes when he heard one. And he’d definitely heard one then. The slight hesitancy in the reply told him that Buff was willing to be caught, Spike only had to run a little faster. And he wouldn’t put up too much of a struggle, either. Spike felt a sudden rush of excitement at the thought, and the toothache he’d felt earlier caught him with a short, sharp needle-prick in his upper jaw and a sensation hovering between pain and pleasure that seemed to connect directly to his lower body and a part of his anatomy that he was rapidly losing control of.

“Yes, you do.” Spike bit his lip.

He heard Buff swallow. “No, I really don’t…”

“It’s a heck of a rush.” Spike moved his hands over the door’s smooth surface and Buff’s blood seemed to move with him. “You wouldn’t want to miss that, would you?”

“I suppose not.”

“Come on then.” Spike swallowed hard, himself and knew he should move away from the door, through which Buff would be appearing any moment now. And, he thought looking down in panic, catching him with a monumental hard-on.

“I like you, William.” Buff’s voice drifted through the door.

Spike spun around leaned back against the door and pulled down the gaudy shirt, which didn’t quite cover his predicament.

“You’re a good listener, you know.”

Spike closed his eyes again, trying desperately to will the feeling away and glad that the shorts were reasonably baggy. Unfortunately, the part of his anatomy in question had always had a mind of its own and had never really listened to him.

“ ‘Cos, at home, no-one ever seems to care what I think.”

Another, sharper pain lanced through Spike’s jaw making him double over clutching at his face. What the hell was he doing? He thought frantically. Making love to a door? That was a new one and a sure indication that from the moment he’d set eyes on Buff he’d started to lose what little good sense he’d been born with.

“But you’re different, William. You treat me like an adult, and I like that.”

The alphabet. Spike knew ten different versions, but he was already thinking that wouldn’t be enough.

“I think I will come out. Sorry for being such a pain, this is all so new to me. Do you forgive me, William?”

The door slid back as Buff released the locking mechanism.

“And there’s something I need to tell you. I shouldn’t really keep this a secret any more. Not since you’ve been so kind.” Buff poked a tousled head around the doorframe.

“William.?”

------------------------------------

Buffonia stared up and down the empty corridor. Where did he go? she thought, puzzled at his sudden disappearance. “William?” she said, a little louder into the empty space which she was sure he’d been occupying just moments before. There was no sign of him so she left the room and made her way towards the front of the ship hoping that she hadn’t annoyed him too much with her childish behaviour and bumped into him just as he was coming out of his cabin.

They both jumped back abruptly. William drew a hand through his hair, folded his arms, unfolded them and jammed them into his pockets. “Sorry, I didn’t see you coming,” he said with what sounded very much like a nervous laugh.

Buffonia, put her hand on her heart as it raced away from the shock of suddenly seeing him appear and as she recovered herself she cocked her head and regarded him thoughtfully. She ought to tell him she was a girl. It didn’t seem fair to deceive him like this. Not when he’d been so kind. And he had been kind, despite taking all her money. He’d given her refuge, and gone along with her silly little charade back at the Bronze. And when he’d told her she was going to get herself killed, he’d only been stating the truth.

It was hard to take, that’s why she’d gone all defensive on him. Spike tilted his head too, watching her watching him and she couldn’t help smiling and turning away self-consciously. He was one heck of a kisser, she had to admit it. Romantic novel-worthy if anyone ever was. And he seemed to have enjoyed it. And that probably meant that he was…no, he couldn’t be. He’d said it, hadn’t he? That he wasn’t gay, to the scaly guy in the club. Buffonia looked back at him. Then why had he kissed her with such abandon when he’d thought she was a boy?

There was only one way to clear up the confusion. Come clean and ask him straight. She rolled her shoulders working out the strange knot of tension that seemed to develop whenever she was within touching distance of him, but before the half-formed question in her mind converted itself into speech, she noticed that he wasn’t wearing the shorts any more. “You’ve changed,” she said, instead.

“Oh,” he looked down as if he’d only just noticed that he was wearing a pair of figure hugging, black pants instead of the hideous, baggy shorts. “Umm, not exactly the weather for shorts.”

“No,” Buffonia said, her eyes glued to his lower body. “I suppose not.” The pants clung in all the right places, accentuating his thighs, moulding themselves to his hips and wrapping themselves around a trim waist into which he’d tucked the hideous shirt. She had to stop herself from leaning over for a peek at the back view, which she imagined would look equally as yummy. Her imagination took a trip. He wasn’t wearing the eye-glasses any more so all he had to do was lose the shirt for something more sophisticated, flatten the hair and suddenly she’d be looking at someone else entirely. Her mouth went dry.

William took his hands out of his pockets and waved her forward to the flight deck.

“So,” he said with a grin. “Shall we?”

“Shall we what?” Buffonia shook her head, wondering what he was talking about.

“Light speed, as in jump to? Remember?”

“Oh, light speed. Yes, we shall, I mean, we should.”

“Righty, ho then,” William said slapping her heartily on the back. “What are we waiting for?”

“Er, nothing,” she said, hastily moving towards the cabin. “Light speed it is then.”

The cabin was cramped, but looked much like she’d imagined it would. Flashing lights and dials, a computer console between the two front seats, one of which was occupied by Chewie who turned and growled something at William before going back to his task of flying the ship. Buffonia stood for a moment, entranced by the sight of her home planet rapidly becoming smaller as they moved away from it. The ship didn’t feel as if it was going very fast now that they’d cleared the atmosphere, and there was more the sensation of having been cast adrift, rather than speeding away.

She wanted to leave, more than anything, and the pang of homesickness that hit her as Chewie turned the ship once more, blocking the planet from her view was unexpected. Her heart contracted and seemed to fly to her throat and lodge there and she found herself pushing past William to rush to the window and lean on it with both hands. Pressing her nose to the glass and craning her neck for a last glimpse of the place she’d called home and would probably never see again.

It was the first time she’d given thought to those she’d left behind. The whole crazy bunch of them. Her mother would be hysterical, Buffonia could well imagine the scenes back at the palace when they’d discovered she was missing. And her father? Buffonia couldn’t even remember what he looked like, it was so long since she’d seen him. He’d never bothered himself with trivial details such as his children. She felt William’s hand on her shoulder.

“Want one last look?”

She nodded gratefully. Regardless of the strange life into which she’d been born, the planet would always be dear to her heart. The palace grounds had been extensive, a veritable oasis of lush greenery, secret coves and brilliant blue-water lakes and rivers. Quite possibly the most beautiful place in the Universe.

“I need to say goodbye, would you mind?” she said feeling tears threatening again. This growing up was hard. Much harder than she’d imagined it would be. She turned her head to the other side at the feel of a large, hairy paw patting her very gently on the back. Chewie almost looked embarrassed as he withdrew his hand and she flashed him a tentative smile to show she’d forgiven him for hurting her. His eyes went very wide when she did that and he quickly dropped his gaze and busied himself with turning the ship around again so that she could look at Summeria for one last time. Buffonia resolutely blinked back the tears and said her goodbyes with a small wave of the hand, only vaguely aware that William had closed the gap between them and was standing at her back, both hands on her shoulders now. As if he knew how she felt.

She leaned back, resting her head on his chest, feeling safely anchored by the firm grip of his cool fingers. The planet grew smaller as they drifted away from it and she thought that maybe this should be what she was looking for. Someone who’d simply hold her when she needed it. Who’d move instinctively in time with her. A man who wouldn’t stifle her, but who would provide a refuge when she needed to take shelter. Perhaps those romantic novel heroines knew something after all? Buffonia had always been an independent person, someone who knew what she wanted and went after it. Someone who refused to be bullied and had the courage to break free of what fate had decreed for her. She’d stood proud and she’d stood firm, but that had invariably meant that she’d stood alone.

This was something new. Something she’d dreamed of, but had never experienced first hand. The way William had touched her when he’d fixed her shoulder, and the way he was touching her now made her realise that no-one had ever really cared for her in her short life. No-one had ever bothered to find out how she really felt, until now.

Yes, she thought moving her shoulder in time with his gently stroking hand. With someone like him by her side she’d gladly travel the length of the universe itself.

----------------------------------

Darth Angel was quite probably the only super-villain who co-ordinated his clothes with his heart. Details like that were important to him, because he cared. And his victims appreciated it, he could see that in their faces. With the all-black ensemble they knew where they stood. He was evil and when people looked at him the message came through loud and clear. Here was a villain who knew how to accessorise and who missed nothing. From his menacing, yet stylish, helmet to the swirl of his cloak and right down to his highly polished boots he was black through and through. You didn’t mess with Darth Angel, and he made sure you knew that.

The Death Star should have been painted black. But would the Empress listen? The fandango pink had been a terrible call and almost lost them all the ground they’d so painstakingly built up. There were still Vampirians who thought the idea of Empire was a bad one, but Darth knew they had most of the planet behind them now in their evil plan to take over this sector of the galaxy and the few remaining rebels factions would soon be taken care of. Loyal Vampirians would be well rewarded, but those who stood against the Empire would be crushed to dust.

Darth coughed to clear his throat and switched his voice-changer to mega-menacing mode. It wasn’t one he used very often, finding that his appearance alone was enough to make most beings incontinent with fright, but today he needed that extra edge, he thought as he surveyed the line-up before him with a distasteful curl of his lip. Bounty Hunters. The scum of the galaxy. All races, all shapes and sizes, but the one thing they had in common was greed and an amoral ruthlessness that allowed them to do anything to anyone without even breaking a sweat. Darth swept his eyes along the line and smiled his most evil smile.

They were going to eat Princess Buffonia for breakfast.

-----------------------------------------

O B watched the small flashing light move across the screen then closed his eyes and concentrated. R U had successfully infiltrated the Millennium Bug’s flight plan, but that didn’t really help them. Once they were in hyperspace it would be virtually impossible to track them using the rudimentary equipment aboard the Watcher-Class ship. The Jedi still clung to the old ways and the power of the Force. New technology was almost a dirty word and little more than something to fall back onto. First and foremost, it was the Force. The Force pervaded everything. It gave life and order to the universe. It gave power of unimaginable proportions to anyone blessed enough to be able to harness it. It was everywhere and everything.

But you try telling that to the younger generation, O B thought with a sigh. If it wasn’t at least nuclear powered then they just laughed in your face. The idea of an all pervading Force that guided everyone’s destiny was for old codgers like him. And everyone knows that if you stop believing in something, then it ceases to exist. There were few people who used the old ways these days, and without the input, the Force was weakening. He could feel it, and it saddened him. O B concentrated and listened. R U 1 2, his navigator droid beeped anxiously beside him.

“It’s alright, R U, I have a lock on them. I can still feel her. Follow at a discrete distance, but don’t lose them whatever you do. If I read that character in the appalling shirt correctly, he’ll be in the fast lane all the way. But they didn’t take on supplies, so at some point they will have to make planet-fall - and then we’ll have her.

R U beeped again and C I tilted his head. “Do I need to prepare the formula, master?” he said.

“I’m afraid so,” O B told them. “She’s not going to come willingly, that’s very clear now. But she will come, I have a sacred duty and so does she. When destiny is involved there can be no escape.”

Both droids looked suitably impressed at his speech and O B nodded his acknowledgment. They were his only audience these days. Everything was passing away. All the old traditions and rituals, in favour of fast food, gadgetry and joy-rides with strangers you’d only just met. O B tried to remember a time when his heart had ruled his head, but it was so far back that he couldn’t. Buffonia was young and the character she’d absconded with was a handsome rogue, and obviously an adventurer. Just the type an impressionable young girl would lose her head to.

He couldn’t blame her really. For wanting to enjoy being young and carefree. For wanting to be swept off her feet and romanced amongst the stars. O B shook his head sadly. “That’s not for you, Buffonia,” he whispered. “You’ll never be just a normal girl. Can’t you see that? You destiny lies with me, not with him.”

The small standard-issue Jedi Master 111 lifted slowly from its docking bay, rotated and, from a safe distance, followed the Millennium Bug through the planet’s atmosphere.

----------------------------------------------------

Destiny. Perhaps this was his destiny? Spike tried not to touch Buff as he tightened the seatbelt harness around the boy’s shoulders. Making sure they were secure with a proprietary concern he shouldn’t really be feeling this soon after meeting him. Buff was a funny mixture of grim determination and total innocence and Spike was finding himself more and more concerned for the lad’s welfare. He needed to talk him out of this stupid idea of becoming a bounty hunter, for one. Spike had things to do, mad brides-to-be to run away from and worrying about Buff was diverting his attention from other more important things, like saving his own ass.

Summerian men tended towards the effete and effeminate, but Buff was feminine looking even for a Summerian. Traces of make-up clung to the boy’s eyelids, which were outlined with black, giving him a slightly exotic air. There was little left of the lip-paint he’d been wearing, but Spike had tasted it when they’d kissed back at the Bronze.

The memory of the kiss made him stir again and he adjusted his pants discretely and pronounced himself satisfied with the seat belt. Chewie growled at him. “Don’t worry, I’ve checked it,” he told the Wookie who seemed to have gone, in a heartbeat, from total indifference to worrying over every move Buff made. Chewie was especially loyal as a partner and if Spike wanted him to be nice to Buff, then you could bet your life the giant hairy creature would smother her with kindness. Buff was starting to look a little overwhelmed at all the attention so Spike backed off, guessing he needed a few moments alone to deal with his feelings over leaving his home planet for the first time.

“It’s fine, Chewie. Strap yourself in, I’m going to make the jump to light-speed.” He paused to pat the rather nervous looking Buff on the head before strapping himself into the front seat next Chewie. Jumping to light-speed was almost as good as sex, perhaps even better sometimes. Get the trajectory just right and it was an adrenaline rush like nothing else, and that was saying something for someone with vampire constitution.

Chewie pushed a few buttons and the ship seemed to slow to halt, hovering for a moment before smoothly pulling away again.

“Got to position her just right,” he explained to Buff over the increasing roar of the engines. “Smooth acceleration curve, that’s the secret, then she just slides in. Easy as you like.”

“Won’t we hit something going at that speed?” Buff asked, his voice wavering a little.

“Computer sorts all that out, don’t worry. You ready?”

Buff gave a very small nod and gripped the armrests, his knuckles whitening. Chewie roared.

“Okay then, brace yourselves,” Spike shouted, unable to keep the glee out of his voice. His head whipped back against the seat as the ship picked up speed and he couldn’t help letting out a jubilant yell. “Goodbye, Jasmine,” he shouted. “If I ever see you again in my lifetime, it’ll be too soon.”

The Millennium Bug lurched, hiccupped and then, with a series of petulant whines, proceeded to do an excellent impression of a kangaroo.

Chewie roared again, grappling to control the ship as Spike swore and looked at the read-out. “What do you mean there’s no light-speed?” he said incredulously. “I fitted the part myself.”

Chewie growled again, taking one hand off the controls to wave a hairy paw at Spike.

“Try it again,” Spike said frantically re-submitting the co-ordinates to the navi-computer. “There’s got to be a mistake.”

Chewie shook his head and re-aligned the ship. Spike frowned at the read-out, which indicated that everything was in order. Then why the hell wasn’t the hyperdrive hurtling them through space at speeds that men had only dreamed of? He scanned the figures, mentally ticking off each one until he spotted it. The small, but infinitely crucial variant that told him the ship was going nowhere, not at light-speed anyway. And without the hyperdrive the Bug was no better than a foot-propelled vehicle pedalling aimlessly in the slow lane for all the good it was going to do him.

“The low-down, dirty scum,” he said through gritted teeth. “Bloody ripped me off good and proper.” He turned to Chewie. “How can people do this? I was going to pay him. Eventually. The low-down cheating bastard. You can’t trust anyone these days.” He leaned back in his seat, let out a frustrated scream, then unclipped his belt, pushed past Buff, who was looking up at him with startled eyes, and stomped off the flight deck.

--------------------------------------------

Buffonia looked at Chewie who was slumped dejectedly over the controls, head in hands.

“Should I go and…” she began, pointing to the cabin door. “He seemed pretty upset.”

Chewie shook his head and made a series of low growls. Buffonia nodded, showing him that she’d understood what he was trying to tell her, even if she had no idea what he was actually saying. Perhaps it would be better to leave William alone for a while, and she was tired so she might as well try and get some sleep since it didn’t look as if they were going to get very far tonight. Stifling a yawn she fumbled without success with the harness William had strapped her so securely into. Tugging on it only seemed to make it tighter, and she started a little when Chewie’s large, hairy hand stilled hers, then pressed the release mechanism.

“Thanks,” she said stretching out her arms. The Wookie stood back, almost bashfully, allowing her to stand up and he returned her a small growl when she told him she was going to turn in for the night. By the cockpit door she stopped, suddenly remembering something William had said.

“Chewie, who’s Jasmine?”

Chewie waved his arms and from the sounds he was making, he was obviously trying to tell her. It was some while before she made him understand that she didn’t speak Wookie.

He scratched his head for a moment, then pointed to the computer.

“Jasmine is the computer’s name?”

Chewie shook his head vigorously, sending his fur rippling and beckoned her forward. The screen flickered to life as he pressed a few buttons and brought up the video-mailbox. He pointed to the image frozen on the screen and Buffonia’s eyes went very wide as she took in the leathery, barely-humanoid being that filled most of it.

“That’s Jasmine?”

Chewie nodded, sagely.

“And she’s what? Please don’t tell me she’s William’s mother.”

Chewie made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, then shook his head and played the clip.

You will be here for the wedding. Unless you'd like to pay me the five million credits you owe me?"

“William’s been invited to a wedding?” Buffonia thought about it for a moment. “And he doesn’t want to go?”

Chewie waved his arms frantically and rewound the clip. Jasmine in all her glory leaned towards the screen and placed a wet, slobbery kiss on it. Buffonia’s heart did a small tap-dance in her chest and she turned to Chewie. “William owes this, er, thing, money and he can’t pay. So she’s forcing him to marry her?”

Chewie froze the image and very excitedly agreed with her. Buffonia glanced at the screen once more, understanding now why William had been so desperate to get away, and almost laughing at the irony of them both being in the same predicament.

“But he can get the money, right?”

Chewie flopped back into the pilot’s seat and shook his head again. He pointed at Jasmine’s hideously frozen image and shrugged as if to tell her that William was going to have no choice but to yield and marry the creature.

Buffonia sat down again too as she thought over this latest development. The first, and silliest, thought that popped into her head was that William should marry her, then he couldn’t marry Jasmine because he’d already be married. She dismissed it just as quickly. The idea of monogamous marriage was rare these days and Jasmine didn’t look like the kind of creature that would let a small thing like another wife stop her.

William needed money, and fast, but all she had left in reserve was her jewellery which was mostly of symbolic and ceremonial value, and she had no idea if it would be worth anything outside of Summeria. “I have some jewellery,” she told Chewie. “Would that help?”

Chewie shrugged again, growled and pointed back to the screen. Buffonia leaned over and rewound the image once more.

”My widdle blondie, bear…” And again. "I can't stop thinking about you Spikey.”

“Who’s Spikey?”

Chewie pointed to the door. Buffonia followed the line of his finger wondering if there was anyone else on board, then she realized who he was talking about.

“Oh, William is also called Spikey.” She rose from the seat. “This is terrible, and I know just how it feels. I must go see how he is.” Chewie’s hand on her shoulder told her that perhaps that wouldn’t be a good idea right now. “You’re right,” she said stopping in her tracks. “But we must help him. She slipped a hand into her pocket as she spoke, fingering the neatly folded wanted poster she’d brought with her from Summeria. The reward wasn’t five million credits, but it would be a start.

Chewie was looking at her most curiously as she stated again that William was no way marrying Jasmine while she was around to stop it. He tilted his head and crinkled up his eyes, as if to ask her why she should care. And that bit she did understand.

“I told you, Chewie. I know exactly what he’s going through. The poor thing. Okay, I’m with you. We’re going to get that money, Jasmine’s going to get paid, and, and…everyone’s going to be happy, yes?”

Chewie bounced in his chair, and Buffonia, hit by a sudden surge of optimism now that she had a real purpose in life, raised her hand for a high-five. Chewie stared at it, puzzled so Buffonia lifted his hand and patted it against hers all the while nodding encouragement to him. He bared his teeth in a grin and slapped her hand so hard that she fell back into the chair. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” she said fending him off as he tried, with a mortified expression, to pull her upright again. Help the helpless, that’s what she was going to do. Use some of this new found strength to be a champion and make a difference somewhere. And William would be first on her list, because she owed him big-time.

Making her way back to the rec room she thought about him married to that hideous creature. And she thought about herself married to that Buffoon of a Sleepwalker. And her mother married to a man she never saw. Why didn’t anyone marry for love any more? Had they ever? The path to true love was a rocky one, Buffonia knew that from the novels she’d read, but despite all the obstacles, in the old days true love had always prevailed. Nowadays that notion seemed to be nothing more than a fantasy.

Perhaps there was hope? she thought to herself as pushed open door after door until she found a tiny bathroom. After using the facilities she went back to the rec room and surveyed the hard bench that was to be her bed. This time it didn’t look so bad, in fact she felt grateful to have it. At least she was off the planet now, with people who cared something for her welfare. She could have so easily been lying in the wreckage of the speeder, or worse, been attacked by any number of creatures. Or creepy stalker-guy might have caught up with her again.

She popped a tooth cleaner into her mouth and chewed on it, pulled off her cloak and spread it onto the seat. Opening her bag she rummaged through the few items of clothing she’d brought with her and wondered if she ought to change her underwear. Deciding she didn’t, she took out one of the novels she’d brought with her and lay down. Without a pillow it was uncomfortable and she couldn’t concentrate because she kept visualizing William in the clutches of Jasmine. William, who’d looked surprisingly good in those black pants. And who, she suspected, was probably going to surprise her a lot more before this trip was over.

The words blurred and melded into one and her eyelids drooped. As the book slid from her fingers Buffonia slipped into sleep and dreamed about young boys who turned into blushing maidens, handsome, curly-haired scoundrels and heroic destinies. In a land where everyone lived happily ever after.

--------------------------------------

Spike lay back on his bunk, jaw clenched, his mind a whirl of conflicting thoughts. Jasmine. Even with the hyperdrive working there was a chance she’d find him. The Hutts were nothing more than gangsters and they’d want their pound of flesh one way or another. He thumped the wall, grimacing as his knuckles contacted with the metal, closed his eyes and let out a frustrated growl. Things looked grim and right now there seemed to be no way out. And then there was Buff. He didn’t have time to worry about the lad right now, or lust after him, yet it was all he seemed to have been doing in the short time since they’d met.

Buff liked him, he wanted Buff so what was the problem? It had always been that simple before. If Buff had been a girl Spike knew that even in his William disguise he would have had her upside down and half-way to happy land by now. Undoubtedly to their mutual satisfaction. And there was his problem. If he was a girl. If only he was a girl. Why the bloody hell wasn’t Buff a girl?

He sure as hell looked like one.

Spike sat up and pushed back his hair. Perhaps it was time to find out exactly who, or what Buff really was? Or perhaps it was just time to give in to this insane urge that wouldn’t leave him alone? He went very still and listened carefully. The ship was on auto-pilot, he could tell that much from the low level humming of the engines. Chewie was in his cabin and Buff was in the rec room. With the engines barely making any sound he could hear that the boy’s heartbeat was slower than it had been earlier and his breathing deep and steady. Spike hopped from his bunk and silently left his cabin.

The sliding doors usually made a satisfying swishing noise as they slid back, but Spike ducked down, avoiding the sensor and pushed it back carefully by hand instead so that it made no noise at all. Buff was half curled up in his cloak, one arm hanging loose. A book lay discarded on the floor next to the bag the boy had brought with him, and he seemed peacefully asleep.

Spike turned the cabin lights down so Buff’s form was outlined only by a dim glow, but he didn’t need that to see him by. Even in human face his night vision was excellent. Buff stirred as Spike moved, ghost-like, across the room, freezing momentarily in place as he waited for the lad to settle again. Buff turned over, brought his feet up and curled an arm around his knees and, as Spike gazed down on him, he felt something welling up from deep inside of him. Something primitive, and unfamiliar.

When had Buff become his responsibility? Because that’s exactly how he felt about him. Spike had only known him a matter of hours, yet he already knew that he wasn’t going to let the lad go gallivanting off to his horrible death. And neither was he going to let the crazy guy in the brown cloak have him either.

Spike dropped to his knees beside the bench and propped his chin on his folded arms. Buff had green eyes, with little flecks of gold in them, like the kind of emeralds that littered the beaches of Vampiria. Not precious at all, but every now and then you’d find one that was so beautiful you’d want to keep it forever. The boy’s nose had a curious little tilt at the end of it and below that his dewy lips were slightly parted and just begging to be kissed again.

Vampirians, for all their violent history, had a totally irrational love of poetry and Spike was feeling it now. A terrible urge to find a writing tablet and start penning odes to ethereal beauty and forbidden fruit, and the inevitability of his capitulation in the face of irresistible odds.. He sighed happily as a few lines flitted through his mind, for a brief moment forgetting all about Jasmine and his impending doom and losing himself instead in sparkling eyes that made him want to jump in and drown in them.

Eyes that were looking at him now.

“William?” Buff’s voice, thick and sleepy cut through his pleasant thoughts. “Is that you?”

He could see Buff crinkling up his face, trying to make him out in the darkness, perhaps only half aware that he was there. “Yes, it’s me,” Spike said, his mind racing to find an excuse for being in such a strange position. “I, er, umm, left something under the seat. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Buff rubbed a hand over his eyes and propped himself up on an elbow. Watching him as he groped theatrically under the seat.

“Nope, it not here.” Spike stood up feeling a sudden urge to run away as fast as he could. This was quicksand, and he was sinking fast. If he stayed he was going to go under and there’d be no saving him. Walk away, he ordered is feet. Right now, out that door… His feet ignored him and instead he found himself turning around and searching out Buff’s face again.

The boy gazed at him calmly. “Don’t worry,” Buff said quietly. “I know about Jasmine.”


“How…who…?”

Buff interrupted him, wriggling himself comfortable once more as he settled back to sleep. “Chewie. Don’t be cross with him. We’re going to save you from her.”

“Oh yeah, and how are you going to do that?” Spike couldn’t keep the cynicism out of his voice as the brief calm he’d felt when he was watching Buff sleep evaporated at the mention of Jasmine’s name.

Buff sighed and went very quiet. Spike stood, rooted to the spot, unable to work out whether it was because the lad didn’t have an answer to back up his elaborate declaration or whether he’d simply fallen asleep again. He resisted the urge to reach out and stroke the boy’s black, spiky hair and instead waited until he was sure it was the latter, all the while reminding himself of the real reason he’d come. The lad had to have an I D card somewhere about him or some clue as to why that man in the brown cloak was following him with such dedication.

The Jedi did nothing without a good reason and if they thought Buff was important then Spike needed to know exactly what he was getting himself into by harbouring him. With the impending war, this could get dangerous in a way that would make Jasmine and her threats look like afternoon tea with a maiden aunt.

The bag wasn’t very heavy, possibly reflecting the hurry with which Buff had left and Spike found himself making a mental note to look out for pink cuddly pigs next time they landed anywhere near a Super-Mall. To be able to fit a whole life into one bag was either very brave, or very sad. He’d done it himself and still couldn’t decide which it was.

As he carefully slid back the door Buff’s voice drifted across the dark space.

“You could always marry me…then she couldn’t have you…”

It trailed away into a sigh and, despite his turmoil, Spike had to smile at the ludicrousness of it all. If only it could that simple?

Back in his cabin he locked the door, dumped the bag onto his bunk and started to rummage through. Three paperbound books, all with a slightly different variant of what looked like the same half-naked humanoid male on the front. A fleecy top and a pair of brown pants. A pouch containing a small assortment of toiletries and make-up, but that was no surprise since the lad obviously went in for that sort of thing. Several photographs, neatly wrapped with a cord and…Spike held up the item in amazement, his mouth half open as everything that had happened in the last few hours suddenly clicked into place. The realisation dropped on him so hard that he almost fell over.

It was relief mainly. That he wasn’t going mad, that he hadn’t started fancying boys and that Buff was actually Buffonia, after all. Unless men wore red, lacy thongs on Summeria. Which they might well do, he thought with a panic that sent him rummaging desperately through the bag again for more evidence that he’d been monumentally blind, in a way that he couldn’t believe. When he found the brassiere he held it aloft like some great prize and almost shouted yes, at the top of his voice. It was red, to match the thong, and incontrovertible proof that Buff had breasts. And, even better, only two of them. Which, when he thought about it, of course Buff had breasts. She wasn’t some weird cross-dresser, but a woman through and through.

Bringing the underwear to his nose he took a deep, grateful sniff. It was still there, despite the garments smelling cleanly laundered. The same scent he’d picked up on Buff just now. And this changed everything. There was no way he was letting her go be a bounty hunter. Was she crazy?. No way that stalker guy, or the Jedi were going anywhere near her. Spike twisted the lacy material in his hand. No way she was going anywhere without him.

He sucked in a breath and clutched at his face as the toothache caught him once more, over-riding the tide of emotion that had swept over him. For some reason Buff made his teeth ache, there was definitely a connection between her and the pain he’d been experiencing. It caught him again, this time with a subtle shifting and a soft crunching as, to his surprise, his features smoothly rearranged themselves.

And when he looked, with trepidation into the image-reflector, he was astounded to see his vampire face looking back at him, and even more horrified to feel a desperate and almost uncontrollable urge to go bite something – or someone…

Tbc…





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