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Chapter 8

It was a pig. At least she thought it was. Buffonia stroked the soft fur amazed at how so small a thing could make her feel so much. The magnitude of the gesture was pretty overwhelming in itself. Regardless of Spike’s motives, this was the first time in her life that the thought outweighed the value of the gift itself. The first time anyone had gone out to buy a gift for her, rather than for a princess.

Mrs Gordo sat on the bed and watched Buffonia slide into the dress.

“What do you think?” Buffonia asked, treating the pig a twirl. The dress fell to the middle of her thighs and the stretchy foil-like material glittered in the glow of the cabin light. Buffonia thought she’d known luxury, but never before had she appreciated that it was simply the absence of discomfort. Never mind the king sized beds and swimming-pool sized whirlpool baths, true luxury was feeling clean after two days without a shower. It was being able to get a comb through your hair without pulling half of it out, and it was feeling like a million credits in an off-the-peg dress.

Unfortunately, the perfect pair of shoes to wear with the dress were in her closet back at the palace so it would have to be barefoot for dinner. Luckily she had enough make-up to look reasonably groomed, but even make-up was already starting to feel unnecessary. Instead of fantasising about the latest in rainbow eye-paint she was more concerned about buying herself a blaster she could handle. And maybe a leather coat like the one Spike had been wearing because he’d looked so cool in it and cloaks really were getting passé.

An image, that’s what she needed. Something that would show the galaxy she meant business, but still kept some of her softer, feminine side. Helping the helpless didn’t necessarily mean having to compromise in the fashion stakes, did it?

The last thing in the bag was a lesson in the power of simplicity. Riley had arrived with a truck-load of luminous roses. So many that they’d hurt her eyes and she’d completely missed their beauty. This one made her smile fondly and melt a little. It fitted perfectly into her hair, and, if she was honest with herself, into her heart also.

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

There wasn’t much in the way of human food on the ship. Spike managed to scrape together some reconstituted vegetable protein and meat-substitute, and of course there was the chocolate. Which reminded him of the last time she’d eaten chocolate, which in turn made his pants tighten uncomfortably. He dutifully started to recite the garbage- disposal procedure to himself and reached up for a packet of blood. It worked, a little, although he was almost trembling with the anticipation of seeing Buffonia in the dress.

It wasn’t the swankiest dinner-date he’d ever had, but it was the one which he suspected would stay in his mind for a long time to come. When he walked into the rec room she was waiting for him and when he saw her sitting there demurely the sight of her bare legs and dainty little feet sent such a jolt of desire through him that he nearly dropped the tray.

“You like it then?” he asked feeling surprised at the nervousness in his voice.

Her soft, dreamy smile of approval made his knees tremble.

“I love it,” she said jumping up and giving him a twirl too. Then she skipped over to him and leaned against his arm, looking up at him with the puppy dog expression she did so well. “And the pig, she’s perfect. Thank you.”

“She?”

“Mrs Gordo,” she explained. “And one day she and Mr. Gordo are gonna get together and…”

Spike put down the tray and reached out for her, sensing how adrift she was feeling. If nothing else he could be an anchor. A point of stillness for her to cling to, which made it doubly important that Jasmine didn’t get hold of him. Slipping his hand around hers, he gave it a squeeze and watched her wiping her eyes with her fingers.

“You’ll see him again,” he said softly.

“I’ll take you there, one day. To Summeria, it’s the most beautiful place.”

A slightly trembling lip was the only indication of the turmoil inside. One thing he already loved about her was her ability to set her course and keep on sailing right into whichever sunset she’d decided on. Anyone else would have bolted by now, back to the life of pampered luxury, but not Buffonia.

“Don’t think I’d be right welcome somehow,” he said with a wink. “Come on.” He put down the tray and led her to the seat, holding her hand high like a knight of old leading his lady, or someone who was leading his partner out to dance. The sudden whimsy caught him and with a flick of his wrist he pushed her away, then pulled her back in, twisting her against him so she landed with her back flat against his chest.

The breathless smile when she tipped back her head was far too inviting, so he lowered his lips and kissed her. Being upside-down it was a little awkward and when she giggled, he did it again and finished with a deep, appreciative smell of the rose. She laughed. “Eat,” he ordered, depositing her onto the bench. “What’s your pleasure, madam?”

The secret smile flitting across her lips, followed by the slight blush almost brought his demon out. It was getting easier to control, but the urge to bite her hadn’t gone away, that was only getting worse.

“Truffles and passion-flowers,” she said. “Followed by ice-cream – one of those Galactic volcanoes. Would you buy me one, one day?”

Spike slid in beside her, a cup of blood in one hand, the protein drink in the other. She wrinkled her nose, took it reluctantly from him and sniffed at the cup.

“Yuk.” She tried to give it back, but he closed her fingers around the cup and urged her to drink.

“All of it,” he said. “You’ve had hardly anything all day, I don’t want you fading away on me.”

And there was his resolute Buffonia again. Tipping back the cup and drinking down every drop while he looked on with a goofy lop-sided smile, because that’s just how she made him feel sometimes.

“Euww,” she said shaking her head and wrinkling up her features in the cutest of faces. One of her straps had slipped to expose the smooth curve of her shoulder and he couldn’t resist bending his head and pressing his lips there. Her shiver made him give in to temptation and kiss his way into the crook of her neck. She tipped her head to give him better access and her trust in him was disarming. He was, after all a Vampirian, perfectly capable, if he chose of draining her dry, something his ancestors would have done in a heartbeat. Yet, here she sat, trembling beneath him yes, but not with fear.

Her arousal was overwhelming, and when he pulled back the streak of synth blood that stained her flesh taunted him wickedly. He wiped it away with his fingers while she twisted her head to see what he’d done. “Sorry about that,” he said, almost sheepishly. Forgot I had blood on my mouth.”

Their eyes locked for a moment, both of them reading the symbolism of it. His fangs tingled and her bottom lip quivered. The vampire inside, whispered to him and the woman in front of him tilted her head and softened her gaze, almost as if she was listening. With a gentle finger he traced a line up the side of her neck, bending low to whisper in her ear. “Can’t help it, love. I really want to bite you. Never felt like this before.”

Her breathing hitched up a notch and her blood, which was already pounding a frenzied path around her body accelerated even more when she heard what he’d said. A word was forming on her lips. “No,” he said, stopping her from saying it. “Not yet, but when you’re ready, you’ll tell me?”

“I’ll ask you, Spike. One day, I will…when we…”

It was going to happen. It had always been going to happen, from the moment she’d kissed him back at the Bronze. He’d wanted her when she was the wrong sex and how he was controlling himself right now, he had no idea. Her heat was making him spin and all she was doing was sitting there, albeit with the promise of heaven in her eyes. His brain frantically scrabbled with the logistics of a detour to Aldis Three. She deserved no less than the full blown fantasy for her first time and it was worth the risk. She was worth it. But there were a few things for her to learn before they got that far.

“Turn around,” he murmured in a voice of barely controlled passion. “I think it’s time we made our way to second base.”

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


The Empress sat idly filing her nails and sending small glances towards Darth Angel. Her fallen angel. Or so she’d thought. But then, she might have known – perfectly groomed, loved shopping, a whiz at interior design – the signs were all there, she just hadn’t cared to see them before now. And there he was, signing autographs, or giving out his private number judging by some of the looks on the bodyguards’ faces. Really, the man needed to get his priorities straight. World domination had been the simple part. Taking over the galaxy was going to require a little more concentration than was happening right now.

“Wanna go ride the Death Star?” she said standing up abruptly. “I’m bored, let’s go kill something.”

Darth looked up, but took his time obeying her command. Just a moment longer than protocol demanded. To let her know, no doubt that she couldn’t do this without him. He raised a finger, then turned back to the pretty young soldier he’d been ogling. The Empress folded her arms and counted to ten. Darth always appeared on nine. Boy did he know how to push her buttons.

But he always knew what she needed too. With a deliciously sinister smile he swept across the room towards her.

“Why the glum face, sweetie? Let Darth make it better, yeah?”

The Empress couldn’t help pouting and Darth slipped an arm around her shoulder.

“Restless, are we?”

“Oh Darth,” she said, in an anguished voice. “What if we can’t do this? What if Buffonia gets to me first?”

“There there,” he said, pulling her in close and engulfing her in his strong embrace. Powerful arms held her carefully against a wonderfully hard chest, and for a moment the Empress pretended it was all hers. Her predictable response to his nearness made him chuckle and she nearly pulled away, but it was too good to pass up, so she buried her face in his cloak and let him stroke her back.

“Shall I fetch you something to play with?” he asked.

“Would you?”

“Consider it done,” he said. “What do you fancy? Wraith demon, Saturnalian? Earthling?

“You have an earthling?” The Empress lifted her head. “Male?” She asked hopefully.”

“He is.” Darth lifted her head, tilting her chin so he could look down into her eyes. She felt a sweet, sharp rush when he did that. Dark eyes always did it for her, and his were the darkest she’d ever seen.

“Darth,” she ventured, but he stepped back, clapping his hands together, suddenly business-like.

“I’ll have him fetched,” he said with a wink. “And you can work out some of that frustration, eh? You’ll like him,” he said swaggering over to the com-link. “Just your type.”

“Oh, bring him then.” She gave a loud, resigned sigh and pulled at the ties of her cloak. “What blood group is he? Because you know I can’t stand…”

“Relax.” Darth moved across the room with liquid ease and slipped the cloak from her shoulders. “O sensitive,” he whispered close to her ear. “Your favourite.”

“What would I do without you Darth?” She leaned back. Looking up at him with genuine gratitude she rested her cheek against his glove and inhaled the fresh leather smell. She couldn’t help groaning when his fingers started digging deep into her tense shoulder muscles in a slow, sensuous massage. Being the most evil being in the galaxy was taking its toll and for a moment she wondered if mere world domination ought not be enough?

Darth read her mind. “Never,” he said in low, sultry tones. “The galaxy’s ours Most Frightening One. Now go on. Let’s practise that ritual.”

The terrified human fell to his knees, his hands clasped together, a litany of pleas for his life falling from his lips. Such a pathetic sight. The Empress glanced disdainfully down at him then pointed a finger, causing the human to shoot back across the room in a flash of bright sparks.

“Bravo, your highness.” Darth gave her an encouraging nod and stepped back. “The heart,” he said. Placing his own hand over his breast. “Have a little taste. You’ll see, it’s not that bad.

This was much more fun, she thought warming to her task. With another shower of sparks she sent the broken man careening into the wall and with a flick of her head, she changed into her vampire face, and advanced.

Darth Angel’s laughter almost drowned out the terrified man’s screams. Almost, but not quite.

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

“You knew what I was doing? The other night?” Buffonia turned her face away, trying to cover her embarrassment by hiding behind her hand, but Spike wasn’t having that. He took it in his and held on, forcing her to look at him.

“Told you love, vampire senses. Can feel it all, smell it too.” Leaning forward he whispered close to her ear. “It’s driving me crazy.”

“It is?” Buffonia’s eyes widened a fraction more, a delicious shiver running through her when he took her hand to the hard evidence of exactly how crazy she was making him.

Her shaking fingers traced the hard line of him. “See what you do to me?” he said, his voice pitched low. And when nervousness got the better of her and she made to pull back, he pressed her hand down insistently again. “No, touch me,” he ordered. “Feels good. And let me do the same for you.”

Every one of her senses screamed at once when his cool fingertips walked themselves over her shoulder and slipped under the strap of the dress. Like an erratic drum beating in her chest, her heart took off and all her blood seemed to rush to one spot in her body. The strap slipped down and his hand traced a path along her collar-bones to the other one. When that slid down too, exposing fully the top-curves of her breasts, the look in his eyes caused her fingers to clench over him and a rough moan fell from his lips.

“Yes,” he hissed never losing his focus. “Just like that. Tell me what you want me to do to you.”

Buffonia swallowed. What did she want? Just then she wanted it all, but her mouth was suddenly so dry that when she tried to speak all that came out was a wanton, breathy sigh.

“That’s my girl.” His laugh was low and deep. “Do you like this?”

All she could do was nod, because talking was too distracting and she was enjoying the maddeningly slow journey of his hand over her flesh far too much. When he finally released one of her breasts from the dress and covered it with his palm she found her own hand mimicking his. Softly stroking, circling and squeezing gently.

“Undo me,” he said coaxing her onwards. “And tell me what you want me to do next. Shall I kiss you?”

Yes and yes. She nodded twice and reached for the fastening of his pants with trembling hands. He leaned back to make it easier for her and released a long, deep shudder when she accidentally brushed the tip of him with her nails, growling with delight when she slipped a hesitant hand inside and raised her questioning eyes to his. This was something she should know well. Something she’d read elaborate descriptions of in her novels, yet she wasn’t at all prepared for the reality of it. She knew it would be hard, but she hadn’t realised how much that reflected the strength of his desire for her. His jaw was clenched tight, twisting in what looked like agony as her fingers travelled the length of him. And his eyes flashed yellow then returned to a rich dark blue, signifying how thin the thread of his control was right then.

“Can I see?” she asked, more turned on than she’d ever been, but genuinely curious too. Despite his rampant arousal, the soft skin felt exquisitely delicate and the anticipation of finally finding out if all the purple prose she’d read was true, was killing her.

“Help yourself, love.” Spike wriggled his pants over his hips and lay back across the bench seat, allowing her to see him in all his proud beauty.

She looked.

He smirked.

“And come here, so I can kiss you,” he said, slipping an arm around her waist.

The action brought her breasts tantalisingly close to his mouth which he took full advantage of. The brush of his lips over her nipple, followed by a feather-light sweep of his tongue caused her to jolt upright, but he bunched the material of her dress in his hand, twisted it and brought her back down to him again.

“Keep still,” he said softly, but firmly.

The gentle persuasion wasn’t necessary because she was already urging his mouth back by arching against him, and she hadn’t even realised he’d manoeuvred her onto his lap so she was now sitting astride him, a knee on each side of his hips.

“Wish you could see yourself, love,” he said in a desperate voice. “Wish we could…right now, want to…need to…”

The buzzing of the com-link startled them both, making then turn their heads and stare at it dumbly.

“Ignore it,” Spike sat up, bringing his hard length into contact with an extremely sensitive part of her and started slowly rocking against her.

Buffonia bit her lip and picked up the rhythm. Sliding her arm around his neck to bring him even closer, she tried to look at him, but he was going blurry around the edges so she leaned her head onto his chest and concentrated on her impending climax instead. Way better than her orgasminator, she thought hazily, and they hadn’t even reached the main event yet. Her breathing hitched and she threw back her head. “Together,” she whispered. “Let’s…”

The com-link buzzed again, and kept on buzzing.

Spike dropped his forehead to her shoulder, and groaned.

“Sorry sweetheart,” he said thickly. “Think I need to get that.” With a swift kiss to her mouth he reversed their positions and lowered her to the bench, taking a moment to appreciate her dishevelled state with burning eyes before hitching up his pants and raking a hand through is hair. “Don’t move from that spot, okay?”

How could she? When she didn’t have a bone left in her body? Wild banthas couldn’t have dragged her away.

“Don’t be long,” she replied, bending a knee and draping an arm over the top of her head. With her breasts still exposed and the green metallic skirt bunched high over her thighs she presented the very picture of wanton abandon. At least she hoped she did. Boy, had the Summerians got it wrong when they’d gone wholesale over to technology for their kicks. Spike wasn’t warm, but he was hot in every other way, and right now he was setting her on fire. Languidly her knees fell apart and Buffonia caught and locked Spike’s famished gaze with hers as she brought a finger to her mouth and formed a ring around it with her lips. In and out it went, while his head bobbed up and down as he followed the movement and when she removed it with a sound like a kiss and slowly slid it over the front of her hip towards the very damp patch on her panties she thought he was going to devour her there and then.

“Spikey Wikey, it’s me.”

A familiar, and extremely unwelcome voice whined at them from the com-link and in one swift movement the finger that had been on its way to heaven was being crushed in Spike’s hand. With a quick jerk that nearly popped her shoulder again he slid her from the bench and dumped her without ceremony on the floor. Then as the folds of her cloak settled over her, everything went dark.

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

Hell, but Jasmine’s timing was immaculate. As always. Spike let go a string of curses in his mind while he scrabbled with the fastenings of his pants. There was no way he could check if the small cry Buffonia had given was because he’d hurt her or merely surprise and he hoped against hope that she wasn’t going to choose this moment to have a fit of girl power.Please stay put, he prayed. Otherwise we’re all dead.

Jasmine gave a giggle when she saw what he was doing, and from somewhere he found a smile for her.

“Did I catch you pleasuring yourself, Spike?” she crooned.

“Uhh, yeah.”

“Were you thinking of me?”

“Dead right sweetcakes.” He sat at the console, deceptively nonchalant with one arm draped over the back of the chair and stuck his tongue between his teeth. “So, my little honey-bun. What can I do for you?”

“You really think you’re the god’s gift to all womankind, don’t you Spike?”

Her tone was suddenly cooler and Spike sat up, thrown by the statement, but not missing the dangerous change in her demeanour. Hell, she knew, and all hell was about to break loose.

“Where is she, Spike?”

“I can explain…”

Jasmine’s voice climbed a few octaves. “I said where is she!” Her face loomed at him, filling the whole screen as she leaned forward, almost as if she was trying to see past him. “You were seen on Moss Iseley with a woman. An attractive woman. And don’t you dare tell me she was your mother.”

It had been on the tip of his tongue, but wisely he managed to choke the words off.

“She’s nothing sweetie, just a fare-paying passenger, no more. You know I need the money.” Spike could feel his heart starting a slow, heavy thudding, and in response, his blood started to move around his body. Get a grip,” he thought desperately trying to fend off the light-headed feeling that always caused. This is not the time for panic.

“Don’t you sweetie me, you filthy Araldusian rat-faced dog. You’re dead,” Jasmine jabbed a finger at him and screamed, her voice so high now, it was almost a sonic whisper. “She’s dead. I’m going to put a bounty on you so high that even your mother will want to turn you in. You…”

Spike could see that it was actually the perfect time to panic. With a quick flick of the wrist he closed down the screen. Jasmine was cut off in mid-rant and a thick, heavy silence descended on the rec room. Spike sat, frozen to the spot, Jasmine’s final words rolling over and over in his mind and it was Buffonia who moved first. Peeking out from under her cloak with eyes that were initially frightened, then clouding over with concern when she saw his almost catatonic state.

He could do nothing more than stare at her bare breasts as she moved towards him and he had an insane urge to cry loudly and wildly when she circled her arms around his neck and leaned her head on his shoulder.

“We need to go steal a hyperdrive board,” she said matter-of-factly.

All the tension he’d been holding was released in the short bark of laughter that split through the tension in the room. Bloody fate, he thought, pulling her round and onto his lap. The familiar smell of his shower gel clung to her skin and he wanted nothing more than to bury his face between her breasts and stay there forever. They were going to die, both of them. Horribly. So he might just as well die here.

Bloody hell, every time he found something, every time it got good, it was snatched away from him. He wanted to save her, but all he was doing was putting her in more danger. She’d have done better going off and taking her chances out there in the big, bad universe after all. He’d thought going after monsters in the dark was what was going to get her killed, but it wasn’t. It was going after him.

“Shh,” she said, threading her fingers into his hair, her green eyes gently understanding. “We’ll get through this. Look at what a good team we made back in the mall? The Tarrakan couldn’t take us, and Jasmine won’t either.”

When he wouldn’t look at her, because he didn’t want to shatter her illusions with the truth of the matter, she took his chin and tilted his head up, forcing him to face her.

“Where were we?” she said with a wriggle of her shoulders that caused her breasts to bounce lightly. Placing his hand on the curve of one of them she said, “We were just getting to the best part, I think?”

They were, he thought miserably. And he wasn’t talking sex then. This was so much more than that. This was about, he hesitated to use the word, but it was no use denying that he’d already fallen in love with her.

“Yes pet.” The words sounded heavy and weary because that’s how he felt. When he touched her, all he could think about was that every time he did it from now on, it could be the last time. Part of him wanted to take her there and then. Get as deep inside her as he could, bite her and claim her. Bind her so tightly she’d never get away from him, ever. The other part of him, the more rational part knew that the best thing he could do was let her go. There was a good chance Jasmine didn’t know who she was and Buffonia could probably do a good job of disappearing. That left him with the job of luring Jasmine and the bounty hunters off her trail. Leading them a merry dance while Buffonia got away. Or he could just turn her over to the Watcher-guy. The Jedi would look after her, keep her safe from the gangster’s clutches.

“Make love to me,” she whispered, her breath hot and moist against his ear. “Come inside me, I want you to be the first.”

He wanted to be too. The first and the last. The always and forever. He’d never wanted anything so much before, but he couldn’t have made love to her that moment if his life had depended on it. All his raging physical desire for her had been replaced by the simple need to hold on to her while he struggled with the torment of what he had to do to keep her safe.

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

He could taste it. Sharp and bitter, his lust for revenge almost choked him now that he was nearing his ultimate goal. The man who’d killed his mother was in his sights. All he had to do was reach out and take him.

Wood looked at his clenched fist in fascination, imagining it around Spike’s neck while he squeezed and the Vampirian spluttered and choked. He’d no doubt claim there’d been some terrible case of mistaken identity. It was a well-worn tune, and one Wood had heard many times before. A quick glance at the console told him the Millenium Bug was still within his radar so he flicked the ship to auto and went to check out the weapons systems. Taking a ship in space without blowing it up was a risky manoeuvre, but disabling it enough so that it had to make land-fall would be no problem. Wood already knew all the vulnerable spots. A sonic charge to the air-filter outlets would do it. Loss of pressure would be slow, but significant enough to panic them into landing. And he’d be waiting for them.

Back in his cabin Wood flopped down on his bunk and reached over for the hand-held screen. With a flick he brought up the very interesting item that had been all over the intergalactic net like a rash the moment it had been released. Someone had hacked the bounty hunter code and posted a picture of one Princess Buffonia, wanted by the Imperial Vampirian High Council no less. No wonder the Jedi was after her. Probably wanted to get his greedy mitts on the vast reward they were offering for her.

Damn, he thought irritably. He’d paid good money for access to the special code only bounty hunters used, but it had been worth it because that’s where the best remuneration was. It was where all the big players were and now every jerk this side of the two suns were going to be after her. Getting in the way of those who’d earned the right to those big rewards. Bounty hunters who respected each other and understood that a fait accompli was just that. Once the prey was in hand no-one messed with you and you could expect a clear run to pick up your reward. But with these amateurs about it was going to turn into a free-for-all. Buffonia would probably got through four, maybe five hands before they got her back to Vampiria, either by theft, or by trade.

Pretty little thing she was too. He cocked his head and took in the long, blonde hair and liquid green eyes, but squashed down the instant reaction he’d had to her. Years of practiced detachment made him able to look at her lusciously pouting lips and see only a huge pile of credits. And at that price, Darth Angel would want her intact. Spike, on the other hand was a different matter. Jasmine wouldn’t care what state he arrived in, as long as he arrived alive. Which he would. Barely.

Wood thought that maybe he’d take them both to Jasmine, use her as an intermediary for half the bounty on Buffonia. Would save a trip to Vampiria and kill two birds with one stone.

He flicked the screen back to check on the progress of the Millenium Bug. It had been on a trajectory that would bring it dangerously close to Vampiria, which puzzled him somewhat, but now he could see they’d changed course and seemed to be heading for the Aldis cluster . A cold smile raised the corners of his mouth. Even better, he hadn’t relished the thought of going too near Vampiria himself.

And there was the Jedi Watcher-class ship, plodding along behind them. Wood’s smile grew broader as he swung his legs over the side of the bunk and indulged in a satisfying stretch. He walked into the cockpit scratching his stomach and looking forward to the long overdue vacation he’d promised himself when this was all over. With this kind of money under his belt it was going to be nothing but wine, women and song for the foreseeable future.

With a crack of his knuckles, he slid into the pilot’s seat and concentrated. The navi- computer had been plotting all the ships following the same course, filtering out one by one those which deviated. That left him a readout of three – the Principal, the Jedi Ship, and….what the fu….?

The Bug had gone. Disappeared clear from the radar. Wood’s hands flew over the controls, his face twisting into an angry mask.

Access denied. Please try later.

God’s blood, someone was blocking his tracking device. He tried again, cursing out loud for underestimating Spike. He was a Vampirian, after all even if he showed little allegiance to his home planet. A quick re-route of the scanners brought up a crackle of interference, but when it cleared, still there was nothing.

With a howl of rage he grabbed the controls and put the ship into overdrive, knowing that if he didn’t catch up with them before they’d changed their course then they might disappear for good.

“Lock in on all possibly deviations from last know course,” he barked at the computer. Then he strapped himself in feeling the familiar rush starting. Good motivation and a bucket-load of adrenaline were exactly the right combination to get the job done. He’d come too far to let them get away now.

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


O B wasn’t one for smugness. Not normally anyway, it was a trait considered most un-jedi-like, but just this once he indulged himself. With a satisfied smile, he leaned back in his chair, steepled his fingers and closed his eyes. It had been a close call with Wood, but the disaster had been averted. Oh, he could have Spike, but not yet. O B concentrated.

Wood had been successfully diverted onto a wild goose chase and The Bug was on its way to the Aldis cluster, possibly to pick up supplies. Then the Blue Ortega needed delivering to its destination, and there was only one place that was going. O B tutted to himself. Blue Ortega, of all things. The risk Spike was taking in carrying that spoke of his desperation more eloquently than his mad-cap chase across space with a runaway princess in tow.

And that brought his thoughts to Princess Buffonia. If her behaviour to date was anything to go by she was going to be a phenomenal Slayer, once he got her to truly understand that her calling wasn’t a request from the Powers-that-Be, it was a command. One she couldn’t ignore.

“Buffonia,” he murmured, bringing a picture of her to his mind. “Listen to me.”

The Slayer-Watcher bond stretched like a thread through the Force and across space. “You have a job to do, it can’t be ignored. Your planet needs you, Buffonia. The Galaxy needs you. There is no self any more, only duty.”

Waves of panic hit him, telling him his message had been received. And that it was being rejected in the strongest way possible, just as he’d predicted. The drugs would subdue her once he had her, but getting her was the trick. And what better way than to use her own emotional weakness and inexperience against her? She was confused and misguided and Spike was planning something, O B couldn’t quite get a handle on what the Vampirian was up to, but either way it spelled disaster for the galaxy.

“Buffonia,” he whispered. “He’s not what he seems. The evidence is there, you just need to look for it. And then you need to join me in fulfilling your destiny.”


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

Buffonia jolted out of her daze and looked round to see who’d spoken. She stared in confusion when she saw that except for her, the rec room was empty.

“Spike?” He should be up front with Chewie checking on a ship that seemed to be tailing them and he hadn’t returned. The voice came again and she clamped her hands over her ears.

“Go away,” she said in a shaky voice. “Who are you?”

It was creepy. The voice seemed to exist both inside and outside her head. A blinding pain streaked through her eyes and a terrible sense of panic welled up deep in her chest. She made it to the door and into the corridor, but before she got to the flight deck it came again, stopping her in her tracks outside Spike’s cabin.

Whatever it was the voice wanted her to see, was in there and when she closed her eyes again and tried to deny it, a hologram of her Watcher appeared in her mind. “No,” she said determinedly to the stern looking face. “Leave me alone. I won’t.”

“You need to see, Buffonia. What he really is. What he’s really after. Go in.”

It was impossible not to, of course. Once the seed of doubt had been planted it was inevitably going to grow. She justified going in by telling herself that she needed to change because Jasmine’s last communication had put them on battle alert and the last thing Jasmine needed to see was her within touching distance of Spike, looking like this. Buffonia walked into the cabin, swiftly taking in the fact that it was empty and contemplated cutting off her hair, and anything else she could do to make herself look ugly and plain. Then perhaps Jasmine would see that she wasn’t a threat after all, and go easy on Spike?

It was a small hope. Sliding down the straps of the dress, she wriggled out of it and let it pool into a heap on the floor, while her eyes scanned the room. She was supposed to be looking for something, and all her instincts screamed that she wasn’t going to like it and to leave well alone. But the voice in her head urged her on with cryptic messages which she couldn’t ignore.

“I’ll prove you wrong,” she said out loud. “Just watch me”

Grabbing her pants she yanked them on, then reached for her undershirt. The drawer. Something she needed to see was in the drawer under the bunk. The voice told her, all her instincts screamed it at her and, before she could stop herself, she was across the room, yanking it open. It was stuffed full of clothes which she pulled out in a frenzy now, in her efforts to prove the Watcher wrong. She knew what he was up to, and it wasn’t going to work. Was it?

At the bottom of the pile, neatly folded, she found the print-out.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” she said, her eyes blurring with tears. “It’s not what you think.”

“Isn’t it?” The Watcher answered, silkily persuasive. “The answer to all his problems, Buffonia. It’s there in your hands.”

Two hundred and fifty million credits. She stared at it again, only now realising that this was what the Tarrakan had been after. But was Spike after it too?

“I don’t believe, it,” she said, louder this time. “He wouldn’t do this.”

“Because you know him so well after, what, two days?” The Watcher’s voice, heavily laced with sarcasm filtered confidently through her jumbled thoughts. Thoughts which couldn’t help running on to their logical conclusion. She was the answer to Spike’s prayers, but not in the way she’d imagined. If the Watcher was right.

“Why do the Vampirians want me so badly?” She couldn’t help asking that question, much as she didn’t want to hear the answer. “Is it to do with me being the Slayer?”

“Meet me,” the Watcher said. ”I’m a sunrise behind you, but wait for me on Aldis Three, and I’ll explain everything.”

Lesson the first. Beware of handsome blue-eyed strangers with silver tongues? Or go with her heart and use this damned curse of a Force to see the truth of the matter?

“I’ll get back to you,” she told the disembodied voice. And with that resolution came another leap forward in her journey to who she really was. The panic and doubt disappeared to be replaced with a strength of purpose that surprised even her.

“May the Force be with me.” she chanted, and left the cabin to go look for Spike.”

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


“Are we there yet?”

Riley blinked up at the soldier standing by his bunk.”

“We’ll let you know when we catch up with them,” the soldier replied patiently. “I was just bringing you something to eat.”

“Thank you.” Riley yawned and threw back the bed-coverings. Space travel wasn’t proving to be so bad after all, once he’d got over his initial nerves. Nice and boring actually, which suited him fine. He reached for a slice of fruit.

“Did I ask you if we were there yet?”

“You did, your majesty and we’ll be sure to tell you when we are.”

“So,” Riley said chewing vigorously. “Where exactly is there?”

“We don’t know yet,” the soldier replied. “But we’re following up all leads, all reported sightings. Don’t worry, we will catch her for you.”

“Good.” Riley attacked his breakfast with relish happy in the knowledge that soon Princess Buffonia would be back where she belonged. And this time he was going to make sure she stayed there. Possibly in a locked tower with an armed guard around it since he was beginning to suspect that she was a determined sort of girl.

He yawned and pushed back the tray. “So, are we there yet?” he said, lying down again and drifting back off to sleep.

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

The Bug swung effortlessly around, pivoting on its front end as they brought it into landing position. Buffonia stood behind Spike, hands resting lightly on his shoulders, noticing how well he and Chewie worked together. Spike acknowledged the request to await co-ordinates for the landing sequence, then leaned back into her embrace.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered nodding towards the looming shape of Aldis Three. “Are the moons always that colour?”

“Mostly,” Spike replied tipping his head to rub his cheek on her hand. “Except during a particle storm, when you really can’t see them. But that’s rare.”

Chewie chipped into the conversation at that point and Spike laughed at his comment.

“What did he say?” Buffonia asked looking from one to the other.

Spike didn’t actually blush, but she felt the slight change in his skin texture as he explained it to her.

“It’s the honeymoon capital of the galaxy. Kind of got this whole romantic thing going. Very cheesy. You know, hotels with heart-shaped beds and all that.”

An edge of regret shone through the flippancy of the words and Buffonia cleared her mind and listened carefully. The Force was giving her small glimpses of a man struggling with a decision, but she was having trouble holding it for long enough to work out what that decision was. Although it was to do with her, she had no doubt about that.

“Strap yourself in,” he said giving her hand a squeeze. “Those are the landing co-ordinates coming through. It’s a quick in and out though, don’t want that ship to pick up our tail again. God-damn bounty hunters coming at us from every which way at the moment. And the last thing we want is to lose our cargo.”

Then why are we here? she thought, moving to her seat and thinking how disturbing this Force business was. Having her mind invaded was bad enough, but picking up such strong emotions from others was equally as upsetting. It was coming off him in waves now, panic, regret, longing, anger, all tangled together in a knot of inner turmoil. Two hundred and fifty million dollars dangling in front of someone’s eyes would do that to them.

She should really be begging him not to land. Telling him to deliver the Blue Ortega and get them away from here. Crying would do it, she’d seen how strong his reaction to tears was. The Watcher said he’d be waiting, on Aldis Three, and the Gods, knew who else.

Buffonia flicked Spike another covert glance. This trust thing was hard too. In the blink of an eye she’d gone from naïvely placing herself in Spike’s hands without a second thought, to realising that the Watcher had been right. She didn’t really know Spike at all, nor what his motives truly were. This trip to Aldis three, when they should be concentrating on supplying the ship and high-tailing it out of there, was folly in itself. Not a logical course of action at all. Unless he had a very good reason for taking her there. One which she fervently hoped didn’t involve handing her over to a contingent of Imperial Vampirian Stormtroopers.

“So.” Her tone was deliberately light and teasing. “Apart from it being the love capital of the galaxy, what’s so special about this place? Are you going to pick up a hyperdrive board here?”

“Just wanted you to see it, is all,” Spike mumbled, not meeting her eye. “Gonna be a long time before we come this way again.”

Someone needed a hug, she didn’t have to use the Force to tell her that. Chewie looked up too, tilted his head and gazed thoughtfully at Spike who was now absorbed in programming the computer for the landing. Chewie hadn’t questioned this rather eccentric detour and seemed quite happy that Spike would have a very good reason for wanting to be here.

Her hand strayed to the printout which she’d shoved into her pocket. She still hadn’t worked out why he’d hidden it, or the true reason they were here. All she could do was go with her gut instinct and trust that he’d never do anything to hurt her. And hope she was right.

Tbc…





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