| Careless Memories by Megan |
| Chapter #2 - Chapters Six ~ Ten |
by Megan Chapter Six He was pacing. Pacing like a caged animal. The bloody bint had managed to curtail his normal activities and thoughts with the bizarre change of attitude towards him. It had him so completely out of sorts that all he was left with was the useless swirling in his head. One minute he was all set to tear out there and rip her head off her shoulders, but then the next he remembered her voice; quiet and sweet and caring. And her mouth, those lush lips that made offers that he should never have received. So, like a man possessed, he’d given up the pacing and switched over to stalking. Which was far more satisfying to his evil bone than the useless chasing his tail he’d been doing while trying to make sense of what he had heard from the Slayer’s mouth. He was going about it all wrong. He should just confront the chit, make her tell him what all this was about. But then that might just ruin the fun. She’d obviously developed a soft spot for him, and even though that knocked him for a loop, he could see now that it made her vulnerable. So what if she had somehow seen a side of him he more often than not kept hidden. An element of his personality only those closest to him had seen in the past one hundred years. Namely Dru since Peaches had done his cut and run. Anyone could get a soul and do the disappearing act. No, it took courage to stay with your family and work it out. Courage that bled from Liam’s body the second Darla’s teeth found his spongy neck. In his distraction he didn’t notice the great moronic Neanderthal Angel rip-off that approached his Slayer, all wholesome and pure as he smiled sweetly at the girl. Spike felt a possessive growl rumble in his chest even as he held back and watched. Clenched his hands in clawed fists as Buffy sidestepped the boy’s approach and made some quick excuse to send him on his merry way. It soothed the demon in him and he couldn’t help but smile. Sure, he was going to drain the very life from her overly perky body, but in the meantime, no one with a face as smooth as a monkey’s arse was taking over his territory. Spike reveled in the look of dejected sorrow on the git’s face before Buffy flubbed him once more and the enormous Angel clone continued on his way. Then Spike jumped a foot high as Buffy sighed out his name and called him to come out. He hadn’t even felt his limbs move, blinking in confusion as he looked from where he had been standing to where he was now. Right in front of her, hands in his duster pockets and a slight tilt to his head that set her pulse racing. That was more than interesting. Had to be magic. No way did he just end up answering her call like some infatuated schoolboy. “Right. Slayer.” He nodded his head at her abruptly in greeting, trying to hide how his lack of direction in this situation was setting him off-centre. “Are you following me?” She beamed at him, her eyes glinting in the moonlight and her lips all shiny pink with some kind of gloss. She seemed too eager for it to be the truth and despite hearing what he thought he had, he was more than miffed by her scary about face in regards to him. “Just out an’ about,” he lied baldly, trying hard not to let his left eye flinch. Bloody stupid nervous twitch. Always gave him away. “Wanna walk?” Before he could answer, she’d tucked her arm through his and led him off on a leisurely trek through the darkness of Sunnydale. He was completely screwed. For the minute he couldn’t even remember how he regularly cracked a neck. Or drained a vein. He even forgot to take a look at her throat. Her shiny lips were too much of a distraction, not to mention the perky breast pressed up against his arm. “So, you know it’s kinda not safe around here in the dark these days?” Buffy asked, her voice all friendly and helpful as she squeezed his arm all flirty like. Spike’s eyes bugged and then he barked out a laugh. “What bleeding substance are you abusing, luv? ‘Cause I want some.” “Ssh,” she hissed at him in warning. “They could be watching.” He dropped her arm and spun around, scenting no one and hearing no heartbeats. He looked at her once more, felt himself shrink a little under the full impact of her sappy smile and came to a decision. “Right. You’re too bloody barmy to kill tonight. I’m takin’ you home before you do yourself a damage.” He grabbed her arm and began to drag her back to the well lit campus. She dug in her heels until he stopped, pried off his firm grip on her arm and then linked their hands together. “You gonna walk me home? That is so sweet.” She grinned, and then taking advantage of his comatose like stillness, she dived in and pecked at his lips. Spike expelled a strangled gasp, his shock making him suddenly inept. “’M a bloody vampire, pet. What the—” Her hand slapped over his mouth and she looked around with worried eyes. “Don’t say that,” she whispered as she got all close and personal with his ear. Her warm breath tickled and he shuddered. Thank the flaming Powers that he had his coat to hide all his body’s irrational reactions. “Shouldn’t have to say it, Slayer,” he almost shouted, his mood bordering on hysterical with all the obscene niceness she was throwing his way. And before he could say anymore, or get enough wits about him to bite her, she had her arms wound around his neck and was kissing him. Not like a sister, or an aunt or even a reasonably well known acquaintance. She was attacking his mouth with gusto, slipping her tongue over his lips even as she sucked on the lower, using her teeth to scrape delicately at the skin. She’d blown up his brain. Obviously that gloss had some tranquilising effect on vamps and she’d completely neutralised him as a threat. There was nothing left for him to do but to follow the age old rhythm of kissing. Participate in the way his body was geared. Strong arms wrapped around her waist and he hauled her body against his, allowing himself to feel the roar of energy that flowed between them. His brain had completely shutdown so letting go to what she unleashed by touching him was completely acceptable. He couldn’t be held accountable for hormones—and a girl’s no less. He was evil. “Hmm, ‘m evil,” he murmured against her lips even as his hand raised and tangled in her hair, not allowing her the possibility of breaking free of what she’d started. “Very,” she agreed in a breathy huskiness that made all parts of him spring to life—except that one valuable part of him that sorted things out and had already closed its doors for the night. And then she was sucking his tongue deep into her mouth, licking it and stroking it with her own as her leg started a slow and infuriating friction against his hip. It wasn’t enough, so he hooked her knee over his hip bone and raised her a little, pushing her back into the trunk of a tree as he began to grind himself hard into her. He felt his crotch aflame, everywhere she touched getting hotter and more urgent to be free of barriers. As his hand wandered up under her top and zeroed in on a hard little protruding nub through her bra, he got the shock of his life when she very gently pulled him away. She was panting frantically, her eyes sweeping over every part of him as he watched her hands flex. “This is so dangerous,” she whispered, even as her arms were reaching to take him back into their comfort and resume the madness. It was enough to make his brain get that little kick it needed to start processing some things. He blinked, looked at her in shock and some kind of forced revulsion as he pushed away from her. “Too bleeding right, I’m dangerous. You’re playing with fire, little girl.” The little bitch had the audacity to giggle at him, slinking her body close to him as she reached out a finger to slowly trace the line of his bottom lip. “Not you, silly. Doing this here. Too many nasties about.” With a burst of fury he felt his body succumb to left over weakness—he shuddered. The finger waved over his chin and rejoined his shapely outline as she got closer to his abs. He felt a glint of satisfied carnal power as he watched her lick her lips in hunger, and then he all but squeaked when her hand swept over his muscles and brushed over the straining hardness against his zipper. He watched incredulous as she brushed against him again as her delicate little hand drifted back up, dawdling at the zipper. Her fingers flicked at it, her thumb nudging the stud that was the first hurdle to disrobing his lower half. He couldn’t say a word. His member pulsed violently against the grating metal and he hoped hard for more, even as he wanted to drain her. Still, he was completely unprepared for her quick look into his eyes, her own heavily clouded with her want. They were alone. He could sense no one around them and he was completely open to seeing what she would eventually do. She apparently made the decision and before he could hear or feel the teeth pull apart he flopped free and into her hands. His groan of pure animal lust got buried in the rumble of his chest as she was on him again, her lips raking hard over his as her hand clasped him almost painfully tight and stroked him to insanity. He felt the slow seep out of his slit as her fingers rubbed it into the tip, then sought her motion along the shaft. Without realizing, he started to help her pump his cock, pulling her closer so he could taste the fullness of her lips and the intoxicating heat of her mouth, all while shielding her with his coat. Yet he was angry, feeling like she had some hidden power to make him useless and unable to fight and kill. He shouldn’t be feeling like this, shouldn’t be wanting to spill all over her pretty body and her glowing skin. So he rebelled in the only way he could. He took his hands off hers, let her do all the work for no payoff. She whimpered at his lack of return on the kiss even as her hand sped up and he could feel the hot burn in his balls as the pressure rose and he exploded, shooting himself all over her clothes, her hand too inexperienced to know how to cup it and prevent the spurting fountain. Buffy flushed crimson as she took in the thick off white slime that was now clinging like snot on her top, wrinkling her nose a little even as the humour came to hit her between the eyes. Still, she was speechless, her eyes searching desperately for something in his and dropping in embarrassment when she was unsuccessful. For the first time she felt confusion shroud her decision. He didn’t want to want her. Willow was right. He wasn’t ready to love her yet. All she could do was sigh sadly and wish it were different. She couldn’t help the tear in her eye as she caught him looking at her. Buffy wiped the stickiness off her hand onto her shirt, shrugging at the added grossness. She could tell Willow it was a demon. The lack of lie made her lips curl in a smile, but still Spike looked at her like thunder was his father. The slayer felt sadness settle on her shoulders and unlike her previous behaviour she asked instead of pushed. “Can you keep walking me home?” Spike tilted his head and contemplated her change, her loss of confidence. He was NOT going to give it back to her by telling her what that little act of submissiveness had felt like. No bleeding way was he making himself more vulnerable to the slayer. “’M sure you know the way, pet. Best for me to be on my way.” She could only nod and Spike felt surprise as he heard her heart slow. “Okay. But be careful. Please? Promise me.” “Sure, Slayer. Just like the Big Bad to go scampering off afraid of a little beastie or two.” Before she could object to his blasé attitude, he’d gone. Like a blur of black and white he left her with further warning just a whisper on her lips. “Just come to me when you need me, Spike.” Feeling a mix of euphoria and dejection, Buffy went back to her dorm to wait. It was only a matter of time. Chapter Seven Two days. ”Buffy, have you seen Spike recently?” Giles attempted to break into her preoccupied state, getting worried for the lip she had gnawed at till it was bloody. “No,” Buffy answered loudly, her mounting concern obvious. “Hey, no need to stress. So the Big Bad’s not lurking at our necks. That can’t be anything but good.” “Shut up, Xander!” Buffy and Giles shouted, the Watcher blinking in surprise at his own irritated yet spontaneous reaction. “Xander, you’re not helping.” Willow patted his hand and gave him a dim smile, not liking how he kept denying the truth of what Buffy wanted, even if she herself thought it was beyond risky and just an incy bit suspect. “So, what are you thinking, Buffy? Do you think he’s left or possibly been caught by the Initiative?” Giles rubbed his glasses, letting the fabric of his hanky hypnotise away his own anxiety. “I haven’t been able to sense him around anywhere, and I really don’t think he would have left without taunting me about it.” Buffy started pacing, wringing her hands in a very unusual display of her worry. “I think he must have been caught. We have to get him out.” “What? No! Didn’t you say he gets some chip thingy? Leave him there and make sure he gets it. Chips Ahoy. It’s not like we don’t know he’ll be alright.” “Xander Harris, if you don’t sit your butt down and keep your lips zipped, I’ll ban you from Krispy Kremes for the rest of the year.” Willow huffed in satisfaction as he quickly fell to the couch and pressed his lips tightly together. Then she turned to Buffy, frowning at the concern her friend and the Slayer seemed to be consumed by. When she saw the little diamond of a tear fall down the blonde’s cheek, she stood up straighter and determined to help. “What do you want us to do?” she asked and let her breath whoosh out on a heavy sigh as Buffy seemed to perk up and get a little more business-like. “I have to get him out. No matter how long he’s been in there they would have given him the chip first. The rest is probably torture and studying him like he’s a lab rat. I don’t have clearance to get in this time around, so I think the best bet is for me to get caught.” Giles and Willow’s eyes widened in shock. The ‘NO’ that exploded into the room was no surprise, and rather than show her apprehension about the plan that was niggling away at her brain, she smiled. “I’m gonna need you guys to help me.” She ignored their shaking heads, the almost volatile Xander struggling with his earlier fear of losing his favourite snack by opening his mouth with the other two. “There’ll be magic involved,” she added chirpily and giggled at seeing Willow’s whole demeanour change. “Ooh, like what? What kind of spells?” Buffy chewed a little further on her lip, ignoring the sharp pain and the bitter taste of her own blood. “The first thing I guess is that they won’t catch me unless they think I’m a vamp. Will, can you do something to make me seem like a vampire? Cold blood, no pulse, that kind of thing? Then again, maybe a glamour or something? I could attack them and they would just take me down.” “But Buffy,” Xander shouted, his concern overwhelming his possible loss of his fave donuts. “What if you end up with a chip in your head before you can wake up?” The Slayer looked at her brawny friend in approval. “Great thinking, Xan.” Buffy quickly turned back to the firepower of this little rendezvous and shot out ideas, knowing Willow was more than up for the challenge. “Okay, they have these tazer type weapons they use to debilitate their prey. What if you could juice me up? Or how about allowing me to somehow induct the energy from the tazers and then I can act knocked out, even though I’m really not.” She beamed, really excited about her ideas and eager to get out there and save her Spike. “Maybe you guys can follow along behind and watch how they take me in. That’ll really help when we need to go back in and take out their operation permanently.” Buffy’s bravado was catching and the military man in Xander was revelling in seeing the inside of an operation such as the Initiative. Giles and Willow dived to the shelves, eagerly pulling out all volumes that might feature spells like the ones Buffy would require. They had until nightfall. She recognised Riley through the memory of overt closeness. The type of closeness that now made her feel slightly green for not experiencing the attraction again. He was with his army buddies, covered head to toe in camouflage wear and grasping hi-tech weapons. It was the way he walked, the way he spun around looking for evil to catch and hogtie back to base. When Willow had completed the spell and made Buffy a glamourised vampire, they’d all gasped. “Whoa. You look a bit like Darla,” Xander had immediately told her, looking a little sheepish at her roll of eyes. Now she stood and chuckled at how she was going to put a spanner in their works, or was it a hammer? Whatever, she was getting in and getting Spike so out. So when she found herself in front of their group, she had a smile on her face. Fake lumpies and fangs making her skin itch. “Hiya boys. Whatcha doin’?” Riley stepped forward, his body strong with his over supply of bravery. “I think we were out looking for you.” Buffy tilted her head to the side and felt a flutter in her heart at how she was adopting Spike’s moves. Her arms crossed over her chest and she jutted out a hip, her lips still showing her amusement. “What a coincidence. I was looking for something big and juicy to eat before bedtime, too.” They didn’t move in response to her easy, conversational threat. Buffy had thought that she would be majorly wigged at being all vampy for even an hour, but it was kind of fun. Fun in that way of the getting of revenge for leaving her and being a vamp chew toy. Yeah, she could live with it. Especially if she got Spike out of there. It was like a Mexican standoff. Buffy couldn’t help herself; she giggled. Then attacked, taking Riley down hard as his second and third in command—Forrest and Graham—scuttled around to help him up while preparing their stun guns. Buffy flinched a little at seeing them charge, but felt confident in Willow’s abilities. She’d seen in her dreams what Willow was capable of after all. So she let them sneak up behind her, allowed her fists to defend herself against a group that were intent on doing her as much harm as they could. She felt a peculiar lack of guilt as her fist sunk into Riley’s softer belly and he was winded, dropping to the ground on his knees as he let out a few gasping breaths. And then she felt the prongs latch on through her clothing, bolts of electricity not quite hitting her body so much as being absorbed by it. The flash of light behind her eyes was all she needed to know that it was time and she collapsed—apparently unconscious—at their feet. Buffy felt them fling her around, wanting so much to snap out of this pretend sleep and give them the fight of their lives, but Spike meant more than her own discomfort right now. Still, she tallied up all their vile touches and rougher than rough handling, and smiled within at how she was going to bring them all down. With a chipped vampire by her side. Sheepishly, she added the rest of the Scooby gang while she tried to think of other things so she wouldn’t snap to it and start the round of revenge before she even got to the lab. Her eyes were closed but even she knew when she crossed into the stark cold of military white. One eye opened barely a slit and she could tell she was about to be locked in a cell, which would kind of defeat her whole purpose. So she bucked against the shoulder of the soldier that was carrying her and struck out with one booted foot as she gained her balance, her lightening movements managing just to prevent the soldiers from getting out and locking her within. She knocked them unconscious, all but Riley as she grabbed his limp and pained body by his army regulation shirt and tugged him out of the cell. Buffy’s eyes widened at the long rows of sterile cells, holding more demons than she thought actually existed on the Hellmouth. “God. Did you actually catch all these here? Some of them must be harmless if I’ve never come across them.” Buffy ignored the grunts of discomfort from Riley as she dragged him down the row, her eyes fixated on finding Spike and getting out. He was half way down, and as she attempted to use the slidy card thingy she stole from one of the more comatose of the soldiers back at her own cell, Riley decided it was time to bear through the pain and try to be the hero. His knees buckled once Buffy had his arms twisted behind his back. “Now, now, you gotta learn when it’s time to just stop fighting the inevitable. You’ll never win against me, Riley. I’m too strong. Now, let’s get Spike, shall we?” The door slid open as Riley stared at her in confusion, the vamp face still in effect. Buffy was relieved, knowing that it would cause a whole world of problems if Professor Walsh could identify her now. She wasn’t ready to embark on that part of her ‘tell all’ dream, so being all vampy suited her just fine for now. Spike was passed out on the floor; the scent of human so close doing little to alert him to danger. His eyes slid open a crack and he flinched at the brightness of fluorescent light before slowly dragging himself to his feet. He licked at dry, cracked lips and stumbled at his weakness. “Bloody hell, what did you bastards do to me?” His voice was rough, almost broken with thirst. Buffy felt no guilt as she punched Riley hard, letting him slide immobile to the floor and freeing her arms to grab hold of Spike and move him to the door. She felt cold at how pale he was, how malnourished he looked. And felt a surge of anger at herself that she’d needed him to get the chip so he could be part of her life. Amazingly there were no sirens yet; no one had discovered her infiltration of the system and the scattered downed soldiers littering an empty cell further down the row. “Move that ass, Spike. If we don’t get out of here now we may never escape.” Spike stopped in dead shock, his weakness and surprise overwhelming his feet as he stumbled. “Slayer?” Buffy grinned then leaned forward and quickly pecked him on the lips. “Come on, Spike. You look so deader than usual.” She giggled quietly as she slung his arm over her shoulder, bearing his weight as she pulled him back to a quick walk, cleverly avoiding any main turns that showed an abundance of army authority. Finally she found a grate and pushed Spike through, relieved at last to be on their way out. It had all happened so fast and they were back outside the secret compound, left to bask in relief under the shining moon. When she turned back to Spike, she embraced his weak frame hard and in giddy happiness she didn’t even feel insulted when he opened his mouth. “You look right tasty as a vamp, luv. Though a little too much like Darla for my tastes.” In the space between her thump on his shoulder and her blinding smile, she changed, her Slayer face back to dominate her features. “Ahhh,” he sighed, allowing himself to collapse a little in her arms. “Never thought I’d prefer that look, Slayer.” Buffy kissed him again, her happiness catching on a little as she dragged him further to safety. Back to Giles’s where they had packets of blood all set up. No more words were spoken as she led him to her Watcher’s apartment, and they slipped comfortably into the night, leaving uproar and anger in their wake. It was all as it should be—and more. Chapter Eight Every time his eyes fell on her, she was smiling. No, grinning. Like a bloody loon, if the truth be told. His arse was parked on the Watcher’s couch and it was all he could do to not faint with unaccustomed weakness while he waited for the idiots to feed him. He’d tried to dive for the boy’s throat—the one he’d almost managed to eat the year before during his ill-thought out attempt to retrieve Dru through magic—and managed to do nothing but fall on his face and succumb to a blinding pain that ripped through his skull. Now he was on display like a circus freak, the Slayer and her goodie brigade watching him with a mix of wary and excited interest as he swayed from side to side on the verge of passing out. His body ached with fatigue and his head pounded enough to set his fangs on edge. And all these humans with pumping hearts were making his mouth water. If it wasn’t for the Slayer sitting right there, smiling softly at him like he was her long lost love brought back to her, he’d probably try to snack on them again. The little redhead had always been one he wanted a taste of. Pity her high-pitched chatter and rambling annoyed the piss out of him. “Which bloody one of you is goin’ to come peacefully and offer me a snack?” His eyelids were drooping even as he fixed on the Slayer’s delectable throat and he licked his lips. He almost felt her shivered reaction and then it was black and he didn’t care anymore. The Scoobies watched as the Big Bad they’d all been terrified of for the past two years flaked out in front of them. “Well, that was a great load of anti-climactic fear,” Xander confirmed, Scoobies nodding in agreement even as they eased up a little. “Xander, you told me this vampire was scary. He doesn’t look scary. He looks seriously in need of some good orgasms and some blood, but not scary.” Anya shared her rather oblivious grin with the surrounding crowd and then took another look at the resting vamp and licked her lips. Buffy jumped to her feet, her hands already on her hips as she positioned herself in front of Spike. “The vamp is NOT for you to play with. You have Xander to give you orgasms, and trust me, you two should stick to that. Come near him and I will conveniently forget your recent affliction of human status.” Buffy glared at the other blonde, feeling a slight satisfaction as her sappy grin slipped and she was backing away nervously. “Whoa there, Buff…got it loud and clear. I see a Buffy stamp right there on his forehead. See, with the swirls of red paint that says, ‘Property of the Big Bad Slayer’?” Buffy loosened her stance just a little, feeling suddenly guilty that she might have overreacted a tiny bit. “Right…yeah…kinda sorry about snapping at you,” Buffy mumbled almost incoherently as her eyes searched for another focus and a change of topic. She saw Giles on his way to the coffee table, an armful of ropes hitting the polished surface with a thud. “Oh no,” she objected, knowing all too well from her three day dream that chaining Spike to bathtubs and tying him to chairs was just massive on the overkillage. “He won’t be able to hurt any of us with the chip. Remember? I told you guys this. He’s all ‘grrrr’, but now without the ‘argggghhhh’.” Buffy was nodding at each of her friends in turn, a big happy smile on her face that was shocked right off of it the next second when a low, growly—possibly hungry—roar hit her eardrums. “Is that bloody right, Slayer?” The outburst seemed to wipe out Spike’s vocal chords for a second and he pressed his lips together while waiting for another build-up of strength. His glaze flicked around the room and alighted on the smug face of the boy that he’d tried to munch on earlier. Before he let words sap him of energy again, he wobbled to his feet and stood as menacingly as his shaking body could allow in front of the slayer, letting the curl of his lip show his derision. “An’ pray tell, Miss Almighty. Why am I so bleeding helpless and fangless in your priceless estimation?” “Oh no,” Xander objected, taking an initial step forward before his old prejudices and fears kicked in and he hastened to retreat that telling move. “Buffy knew it. Said you needed the chip and waited, or we would never have helped her get you out.” It was a glare of pure hate as his face turned to ridges and fangs dropped. “You self-righteous bitch. You knew those bleeding wankers were going to do something to me and you just sat on back and waited till they’d done it? What, do they give you a cut of the profits or something?” he snarled with feral fury. Buffy stood shocked, contemplating either bursting into tears because it was all going so wrong, or belting Xander several times over the head for letting out the facts before she’d thought to tell him to keep his big over-confident mouth closed. She couldn’t stop her bottom lip from wobbling though, and the confidence leaked from her stance as her green eyes were speared by furious amber. “No. I-I just thought—“ She tried to stop her body from shaking, knowing that if she just took several deep breaths she could bring it all back on track and Spike would see she was just what he needed. “Thought what? That one pet vampire is just not enough? I’m not interested in whatever games you’re playing. You’re turning my head inside bloody out and it’s got to stop.” He was struggling to get control of his fangs, wanting so badly to dive for her throat and make the bitch hurt. “But…you need me?” Buffy sputtered hopefully, her eyes pleaded with him to just stop and give her a moment to regroup. “Like hell do I need someone like you. You’re a bleeding menace, and not just to my peace of mind. No Slayer, I think you’ve done more than enough.” And in one giant huff, he’d managed to stumble to the door and was out in the night, too high on adrenaline and fury to know that he could be doing little but standing in dangers way. One thought clicked over and over on repeat, bloody hell he was hungry. He couldn’t believe it. He knew the Slayer resented the fact that he was strong and had so nearly killed her on numerous occasions. But was she so jealous she had to render him completely unable to defend himself? After the fifth attempt to sink his fangs into a succulent and promising neck, he’d about keeled over in blinding pain. He was in the process of looking for something sharp so he could cut his own head off, anything to stop this mindless torture. And then came the knowledge that he needed help, and it galled him no end that he’d have to almost crawl back to the evil troupe that called themselves White Hats. They were more evil than he was for what they’d allowed. She could have just staked him, given him a challenge and a death worthy of the master that he was. Was. Hardly a master now when he couldn’t even hunt and feed himself. Instead, she’d bloody neutered him like some troublesome dog. As Satan and Angelus was his witness, he’d find some way to snap that pretty golden neck before he was done, or have his head explode while trying. Then again, he could be just left to hang out in this fabulous display of sunlight and dust all over the Watcher’s front door mat. Spike could be considerate like that. He’d even ignite and take his raggedy blanket with him. By the time the door creaked open, Buffy spying who it was and hauling him violently inside in relief, he didn’t much care about the spark that had started a tiny fire on his back. She belted him good, though, and put that little flame out, digging into a spot of charred flesh while she was about it. Spike was laying chest down on the floor, letting his cheek rest on the Watcher’s lovely carpet as his vision blurred from starvation. He was finished with the lot of it. Too hungry, too tired, too disgusted with his unusual vampire weakness. This floor looked right comfy and as far as he was concerned, he was happy to lay there and rot, as long as he never had to look at that chirpy ‘I told you so’ face ever again. “Spike? Spike. Come on, don’t be a big vamp baby. Sit up and let me help you.” He rolled over and saw a grinning Slayer swimming in his vision above him. “’M hungry,” he told her, refusing to acknowledge the blissful looking smile she was bestowing on him while she picked up his hand and began to help him off the floor. “Well, of course. That’ll happen when your little Happy Meals get taken off the Spikey menu. What can I getcha? And did I say yet, ‘I told you so’?” He had that small bit of energy left in him to remind him who he was. Remind him why he was where he was. Spike snarled and let his lip curl in that way he loved to show how much he hated who he was talking to. “Screw you, Baby Hitler.” He wrenched himself away from her helpful hand and almost fell the rest of the way to the sofa, smirking internally at how the description fit. She was twice as ferocious as the little Nazi bugger, and he would know, having met the burk at least twice. Once he made it to a reclining position, he gave up on caring if they ever gave him food, ready to die by whatever means was quickest. One deep breath and he caught the faint whiff of distress, but as his own was rather high on his ladder of concern, he couldn’t give a toss about it. His audience looked on as he faded out once again, sprawled spread-eagled over the couch like he owned it. Buffy sniffled as she kept her eyes clamped to his body. “M-maybe I made a mistake?” she said as she looked and found the sympathetic glances of her friends and watcher. “Maybe I shouldn’t have let him get chipped. I was being selfish. I had no right, and now he may never forgive me and I’ve ruined everything the Power’s showed me. What good is having visions if I just muck them all up?” “Buffy, I’m sure everything will turn out okay. I mean, he’s all hungry vamp right now, and look, he’s a bit on the weak side, and no guy likes his girl to see him weak. Being a vampire, I’m sure looking less than his powerful mastery best in front of the Slayer is not the height of his happy moments.” Willow rubbed Buffy’s back reassuringly, her eyes wide with panic as she looked at Xander and Anya for some input. “Yeah, Buff. I’m sure once Captain Peroxide gets some blood down his belly, he’ll be all with the happy and the smoochies in no time.” Xander was looking like he wanted to puke at the sentiments he had just given voice to. His lack of desire to see his Buffy anywhere near the bleached misfit weighed heavily on his staking hand, despite the rather definite chin wobble that Buffy was struggling to control. “You really think so?” Why oh why was she looking at him to confirm the obvious disaster of all things joined vamp and slayer? “Oh abso with the lutely. It’ll be terrific. But hey, the guy needs blood. Giles?” he bellowed as he quickly moved away from Buffy’s hopeful gaze, not wanting to be sucked into this farce of a relationship anymore than he already had been. An agonised moan on the sofa had Buffy rush to give his poor head a pillow in her lap and she looked frantically at her Watcher, still rooted to the spot despite Xander’s attempts to drag him away from the situation like some kind of alibi when things went wrong. “Giles?” She’d caught him, decidedly punishing him for standing still throughout the drama. “Can you heat the blood up?” And they were all active, some like Xander darting out the door for other day to day activities that didn’t include feeding impotent vampires. Giles tended to the necessity of blood, surrendering his least favourite mug to the cause, so that his Slayer stayed happy and functional. The smell of blood brought him to, wondering at the slight incline of his head on something soft. When a mug was waved under his nose and he was helped to sit, he finally realised he’d been cushioned on his enemies lap. He took the mug to his lips without a word, sipping slowly despite the great tearing hunger that made his whole body hurt. He felt himself held upright against her body, felt the warmth of her flesh even as he was infused with the artificial heating of his blood. With resigned acceptance he fed, leaned on her and mentally plotted his revenge. Before he was dust he would see this room coated in red. Chapter Nine Okay, so she could get that it would take her friends a little longer than her to adjust. Wasn’t like they’d had the dream of a lifetime and knew that being afraid of Spike was a useless waste of energy. Still, she felt like screaming every time she heard the chain rattle against the enamel of the tub, settling instead for a petulant stamp of the foot as she stood fuming beside Giles, cup of blood in hand and sporting a deep scowl. “I know what you say you dreamed, Buffy. But acting like a spoiled child will not change my mind. For my own piece of mind, I think it is safer for all of us if Spike were chained up.” Giles passed her the mug, glared at his restrained vampire and left the room. Buffy blinked slowly and closed her eyes against the tears that were threatening to bring her to her knees. She finally had him and he was so angry with her. She could see the violence in him every time he looked at her. She had absolutely no idea how to make this sitch better for either of them. She only seemed to know how to make it worse. “Oi, bit o’ nourishment needed over here.” Spike had watched her arguments for maintaining his freedom and had clenched his jaw at the obvious failure. So, for some reason she knew more about his condition than anyone and why was that exactly? Did she set the whole thing up? He couldn’t help the twitch of his nose as the scent of warm blood moved closer. He shuffled his bum over the smooth surface of the tub to get closer to the edge, turning his nose up for only a second before he dived on the little bendy straw that was between him and the good stuff. “I’m sorry.” Buffy’s voice was soft, hesitant, and she had yet to raise her eyes to look at him. “Yeah. Could tell that by the great piercing pain in my head.” Spike struggled to maintain his angry indifference in spite of her developing sniffles, refusing to let a woman in tears shift his temper when she was undoubtedly in the wrong. “You weren’t ready for me,” she stated, watery eyes at last making his level as she begged for some kind of understanding. She actually looked pretty gorgeous all emotional and the like. Spike tilted his head, straw stuck to his bottom lip as he contemplated what she’d said. “Don’ think any bloke would be ready for you, Slayer.” He got a smile. It was small but a curve of red nevertheless. And for some reason it riled him that it settled the raging beast that wanted destruction. But he felt good inside for the small step away from the violence and his confusion of the past weeks. “I tried to warn you,” she said softly again, sucking in a breath at his raised brow. “That night you walked me back to my dorm.” He spluttered and blood bubbled up out of the mug and sprayed the bathroom wall. “The night you bloody pulled me off, you mean!” Hell, her blush made him hot and hard in all the wrong places. As Spike shifted in the tub, trying to soothe the position of his zipper, he started to revise that assumption. At least one of those places felt bloody good. Right. No fighting it then. The Slayer got him horny. Slayer made him forget himself and get a little lax with his own security. She had made a few rather odd statements that night, told him to be careful, and he thought she was just barmy. Well, now he had a little bull ring to tether him permanently in place. That’d teach him for thinking every woman that wanted him was off her rocker. “Right. Guess you did in a very cryptic sort of way.” His back relaxed against the bath and he watched her; wondered at her nervousness. He could see the fun in playing with her, but there was something else that made him wary about staying amongst the same status quo. She might have allowed those military bastards to turn him into a lab rat, but she had also managed to get him out. He couldn’t deny the girl was pretty inventive, too. “Did they hurt you?” And again the tears were evident in her voice, embarrassing the strongest woman he knew into ducking her head and hiding her fear. Did they hurt him? Other than shoving some pretty incapacitating hardware in his brain and making it impossible for him to be who he was? Nah, he’d just had to wait. Be starved, or drugged…which ever one he settled for that day. But he knew he’d get out, despite the long trail of demons that came out of their cells on stretchers for experimentation only to never return again. Yeah, he’d been pretty lucky. Neutered, but no, not hurt. “Not really,” he replied and Buffy finally released the pent up adrenaline that kept her upright. She sank hard to her knees, gripping the outside edge of the tub and was thankful that she got him out before they did nasty things to his very scrumptious body. “So, what do you Samaritan types do around here for the holidays?” He waited expectantly, hoping the change in topic would get her back together and stop this uncharacteristic moping around his current bed. “Huh?” The Slayer curled her top lip and wrinkled her nose, obviously lost in some other dimension of vampire sitting duty. “You know, pet. What is it? One of those nauseatingly chipper days where everyone sits around telling tall tales about how grateful they are no one was able to kill them?” “Oh,” she said as her eyes lit up, and she hopped up on the edge of his prison and looked down into his eyes. “You mean Thanksgiving? Wow, Indians. And Angel.” She scrunched up a brow as if trying to remember something and then slid inside the tub and ended up shockingly in his lap and on his semi-erect cock. Spike was too shocked to react. As her arms curled around his neck and she shifted in his tub to be more comfy against his hardened appendages, he was mesmerised by the wry amusement that flashed within the green. “How about I take the bear and kill the Indians, and you can make pumpkin pie?” She was back to the beaming, her happiness a mystery to him despite the promise of sweets. “There’s a bear? How’d you get a bear?” And she giggled, tapped her nose and whispered, “It’s a secret,” before devouring his lips in a heated kiss. Spike was moving swiftly from one shock to another, but his body didn’t seem to have a problem that the woman whose blood he wanted to paint the finest mural with was pashing him within an inch of his unlife. He was just starting to get into it, starting to think this having intimacy with the Slayer wasn’t too bad a thing to have in secret, when it was over. Gone. But still he had warm flesh curled up in his lap with her soft hair and head tucked up under his chin. “I’m still going to kill you.” But his attempt at a snarl seemed to come out a hell of a lot huskier than he’d been going for. She shifted in his lap and he felt the side of his cock rub almost painfully against denim, tearing a whimper from his throat even as his eyes crossed. He came to and found her staring at him in wonder, catching his eyes in an unwavering gaze that seemed to convey some deep emotion, and it wasn’t of the hating variety. “Not unless I kill you first,” the Slayer whispered back, and then she was moving closer, fraction by fraction as she refused to surrender the look that was holding him in thrall. Her lips enclosed his lower one and she sucked hard, moaning against the flesh as her hand fell to his chest and she gently stroked down to a nipple. Then there was tongue and Spike felt like his mind had imploded, this display of the most exquisite sweetness too much for his tired brain to withstand. She tasted so delicious and he struggled to get a hand on her, swearing mentally at the chains that held him captive and away from exploring her flesh. Just as he managed to get one hand under her shirt, she pulled away. “I can make this better, Spike. I promise. It’s not as if you haven’t been a temporary white hat before. I know you can be good. I’ve seen it. Please, just give me a chance.” She stopped and just watched him while she waited, obviously holding breath while he came down from the feel of her lips. It took several seconds for the words to kick in and he almost roared in fury. His body jerked and he sent her clear across the tub, petty happiness soaring through him when she banged her hip on the pipes. “You think you can train me like some dog?” He vamped out and snarled at her. “This is what I am, baby. I’m a killer, and I love it. I love to see you stupid humans scream in terror, try to get away while my fangs are in your throats and the jig is more than bleeding up. You’re off your bird if you think one act of desperation will lead to massive stupidity on my part.” He stood and loomed over her menacingly, this time finding joy in her tears as she shrunk back in the other end of the tub. “You could flop your pussy in my face right now and I’ll do nothing but use what you offer. I don’t know what you think this lust is going to lead to, but I won’t be your willing slave. Now get the hell out.” She shuffled out of the tub and bathroom as if hell were riding her tail, tears streaming down her cheeks. She stopped at the door and suddenly turned, anger glinting in place of the misery he’d wrought just seconds before. With determined strides she was back in front of him, her mouth set hard and determined. “I obviously went about this all wrong. You’re a bonehead and you need it, don’t you? Need to fight for it. Well fine. You’re chipped and useless and we’ll fight. May the best m…woman win.” And she slugged him hard on the jaw, nearly dislocating it as it decided bravely to stay connected to his skeleton. Spike blinked in surprise, but she was gone. Teenage petulance leaving behind a delicious flavour. Right then, would be possible to say that that didn’t quite go to plan. If he’d bothered to shut his mouth for five so he could actually make one. Oh well, he had the Slayer pissed off at him rather than sending him those mushy looks that turned his insides. It couldn’t get any better. As he settled back into his temporary prison, he couldn’t help that little voice piping up and remind him that the turning of his stomach wasn’t exactly in a way that had made him sick. He was buggered. Chapter Ten Spike knew he’d hit pay dirt when he’d graduated from the bathroom to the living room. The incompetent idiots actually thought this rope could hold him to the chair, like he was some kind of William the Bloody Lightweight or something. His brow furrowed as a sudden horrifying thought hit him. He hadn’t really tested that. Maybe the soldiers had taken his strength away too. Flexing his now rapidly healing body, his muscular arms stretched the ropes and, as it was about to give he stopped and smirked in satisfied relief. Little snippets had been circulating all day so he knew enough to work out this might just be the chance when he could get away from the beyond annoying bunch. He could admit, though, that their many little research sessions was shooting out information he just couldn’t work out how they knew. How was it they were expecting drama in the form of Peaches and vengeful ghosty Indians with a side of roast turkey and pumpkin pie? Was almost like they had their own little Dru on hand, but with a lot less nut in her case. Not that it mattered, because Spike had a plan. And as long as they all ignored him, or if he could get the Slayer to trust him, there was no way he could balls this one up. He’d be free by day’s end and could offer up his own little Thanksgiving that he cut these interfering little brats down to size and he was once again a free vamp. He felt so confident he couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face. “Hey Slayer, your little feast is smellin’ delicious, pet. Gimme a preview.” She ducked out from around the kitchen and gave him a fiery look, her face flushed from his innuendo as well as her vicious slaughter of the food. “Cut it out, Spike. Stop being a pig.” But she couldn’t stop the little girlish giggle that a day of celebration brought to her. He checked her out lewdly, thinking to himself how easy it was going to be to snuggle up to her and fool the lot of them. “I could help you in there, you know. Stir a little pudding. Wrap a little bird.” The rapid thump of her blood suddenly thundering through her veins had him give himself a mental high five and he just bided his time. He’d have her any minute now. Have her panting to get these ropes off him and rubbing her hard little body all over his eager bits. He couldn’t have thought of a better distraction if he’d tried. All her goody two shoes friends would be gaping while he lavished her with his special Spike brand of lovin’ and he’d aim his way to his biggest conquest yet. Bagging his third Slayer and escaping the clutches of a bunch of misfits. “You…you really want to help?” she asked him, her little voice just dripping in the hopeful. “Nothin’ else better to do.” He wiggled his hips in the chair, enjoying beyond his expectations the embarrassed little flushes that spread across her cheeks. His dirty mind started mapping out other parts of her delightful flesh he could maybe find that rash of crimson before he was startled by her hesitant steps towards him. “I could let you go, Spike. I mean, I want to let you go…but you do know there’s no point going anywhere, right? You’re vulnerable out there, and I know you are angry with me for allowing that to happen to you in the first place, but I’m here to help you now. If you leave the commandos will catch you again. I don’t want them to have you back, so please just trust I’m trying to do the right thing for you.” Her little speech made his jaw tick and Spike struggled hard to keep a hold of his temper or that foolproof plan was going to die a very cruel death. For it to work, they all had to believe he was coming around to the Slayer’s bizarre attraction to him. He could puke his guts up later for the things he would have to do. For now he was going to have to enjoy every little second of her presence. He intentionally blocked out the ridiculously annoying part of his William side that forced him to acknowledge that it wouldn’t be as difficult as he was making out. Whatever. She moved a little closer and he could smell the variety of foods she’d been mixing it up with in the kitchen. It really suited her, this earth mix of veges and meat. Made him bloody hungry too, and not for blood. He quickly banished the visions that had him pounding into her hard while she lay back on the dining table, her pretty little preparations pushed unceremoniously to the floor. It wasn’t right, and no way was he going to get sucked that far into this little delusion of hers. Even if she had made it more than obvious how much she would love to have his sexy bod. “Now, Xander will be here any minute and he’s not gonna be totally with the healthy, so don’t bug him, okay. This is going to be a seriously long day, and I’ve already managed to successfully avoid one of Angel’s visits.” There was another one of those giggles that should have made Spike want to rip his ears off, but instead he found himself leaning forward, listening to her, smelling her, and being disturbed with how much he enjoyed it. Her warm hands brushed over his as she put her arms around him and watched every emotion in his eyes as she loosened the knot. Her torso ran the length of his shins and he felt a need to part his legs and draw her in closer to his crotch. It was instinct, and he didn’t even attempt to move as she wiggled against his tight jeans, her breasts now pushed into his black t-shirt just above his abs. Bloody hell he felt hard, and Jesus he ached. Maybe that dining table scenario wasn’t so out of the question after all. A bloke would be stupid to knock back something so warm and inviting. Even if he was going to slit her throat when the time came. Buffy was exhausted. It had been a beyond tiring day, what with the hiding and protecting of people that either were not wanting to be seen, and those that would have their heads off if they were found. Who knew that protecting the not so innocent—at least in the eyes of the natives—could be such hungry, hot work. At least Buffy could thank the PTB for some very nice and squishy vampire to lighten her load. Or at least, some time in the future when he’d forgiven her. She wasn’t a fool. A little further on the naïve side than she would obviously like, but she knew Spike. And she knew Spike was up to something. Still, what could he do? She’d let him have his fantasies and hopefully get some yummy smoochies in the meantime. As she finally managed to undo the knot that held Spike rather symbolically—rather than practically—to the chair, Buffy let her hands grasp hold of his, smoothing her thumb over his flesh in a way that made her whole body tingle. She threaded her fingers between his and squeezed, letting her eyelids drop closed in building fatigue and heightened desire as her forehead hit his chest with a soft thump. God, the black fabric of his tee was soft. He must use fabric softener, one of the more expensive brands. He smelled divine, all softly flowery against pure essence of man. Buffy could hear stuff happening in the background, but she felt way too happy to see what was going on. She knew she was tickling his chest with her nose as she slowly drifted up to dazedly taste his lips again. So smooth and cool and soft and she was going to die if he didn’t start returning some of her feeling soon. He felt so good and Buffy felt her heart expand more and more for this vamp who had without a glance stolen it right from out of her chest. She could never have expected Angel to be so thoroughly in her past, and she kneeled helplessly thanking the PTB for making her see the light before this situation eventuated and caused her four years of anguish and disappointment. Not once did Buffy truly think Spike wouldn’t fall in love with her. His feelings in the dream were too real, too raw to be something that was impossible to eventuate. And yeah, she might have shifted the development just a little, but she couldn’t have completely mucked up destiny, could she? A little desperation crept into the kiss and she wound nervous fingers in his hair, holding him to her despite no attempts yet to pull away. Her other hand was still caught in his, softly soothing each other as a storm of something swept them both away. His tongue meeting hers was like the biggest relief, soothing her greatest agony. It was real; he had to feel something for her to kiss her like this. Sharp human teeth nibbled at her bottom lip and she whimpered against him, wishing the voices she could hear would just change realities and be somewhere else. Finally she was getting what she wanted and it felt too amazing to be ever interrupted. Which of course meant it had to be. “Ahem, Buffy? S-sorry to er, disturb you, but Xander is here with his diseases.” Giles looked away from the moaning pair and waited till reality came back to them, shifting feet as he rather desperately searched for something interesting to look at. Buffy reached that reality rather rudely as Spike spluttered his hilarity in her face. “Slayer said he was gonna be sickly; didn’t mention diseases. Ooh, what kind? Leprosy? Are all his bits going to fall off? See, you lot should ‘ave let me drain the whelp before he became all useless. Oh wait, he always was. What I meant was, before he became all spotty and sweaty. Oh oh, wait…I mean—“ “Shut it… Spike,” came the disjointed and weak defense from his position on the couch, a very pasty and deathly pale Xander taking refuge under a little blanket with his strange sex-fixated girlfriend by his side. Buffy got to her feet, disappointment showing on her face as she turned from Spike and rushed to Xander. “No need to panic. Remember? We know how to cure this and you’ll be all with the better in time for my famous pumpkin pie.” Buffy smiled her confidence, her former weariness miraculously banished by the invigorating effects of Spike’s kiss. “That’s…great, Buff. How many times have you…made that pie again?” The smile slipped fractionally, and as much as he might be healed within a few hours, his sickness now was acute and he deserved to be lied to. In the name of friendship. “Oh tons and tons. It’s my very best dish. You just wait and see.” She was on her feet and quickly fussing all the way back to the kitchen, barely glancing at Spike as he followed her and wrapped his arms around her waist, smirking into her hair as she ignored him yet allowed her body to jiggle deliciously against his as she whipped the hell out of her bowl of condensed milk. Was enough to make a bloke humiliate himself in his pants. Firm breasts rubbed against his arms and he felt himself tense, doing his own little provocative dance. His erect cock prodded her hard as he positioned himself between the little valley of her legs. He caught his hand just as he prepared to explore other sensitive spots, feeling hopeful when he saw the string. She’d strapped the turkey and there was left over twine. Perfect. While Buffy was distracted, eyes closed against his probing length and rhythmic stroking, he pocketed the sting in the back pocket of his jeans. He might need his duster for more of the little goodies he could purloin in this place, but all of it could be good in his escape plan, leaving behind a stretch of bodies annoyingly missing his very distinctive puncture marks, but dead nevertheless. The Slayer never noticed, instead she put her bowl down carefully on the bench and turned to wrap herself around him, feeling the loss of control as she pulled his head back to hers. Spike felt himself giving in to the hypnotic stroke of her tongue, but not before he snapped up the stray box of matches on the counter behind her. He had one eye openly fixed on the large butcher’s knife too, but would definitely be needing the cover of smooth leather to get that little beauty out from under her nose. As he finally closed his eyes and let himself admit that this thing between them wasn’t as emotionless as he liked to believe, all hell broke loose. And seemingly before he even blinked, there was a bloody bear. To be continued |