chapter 17
While Buffy didn't have many details of his time in Los Angeles away from her, somehow she had the gut feeling that being evil didn't top the charts of his nightly activities. There seemed to be a calmer edge to him now; a sense of peace that certainly influenced his demeanor. This Spike was smoother around the edges and appeared to have a handle on that evil, impulsive aspect of his demon than the version that had slunk away from Sunnydale all those months ago.
Buffy found herself comforted by this.
"So... Let me just get this straight. Instead of searching me out and throwing me over your shoulder to have your wicked way with- because hello- you're evil; you killed time by buying a club and becoming all Mr. Business guy? To what, make yourself respectable?"
"Had to pass the time somehow," was his muffled reply and Buffy suddenly gasped, tensing ever so slightly before having to consciously will her body to relax. Spike's face was nuzzling its way deeper into her lap, and his nose had just found her crotch, brushing up against a suddenly sensitive portion of her anatomy that really hadn't had much attention before now.
She missed the self-satisfied smile that curved over his generous lips at her body's response to him before he continued his explanation, "Wanted to give you some time to grow up, you know? But as soon as I saw you in my club, I knew I wasn't bloody waiting any longer."
Buffy breath hitched in her throat as his words washed over her, confirming her initial suspicion of his noble sacrifice. He had wanted to wait until she was older. That alone boggled her mind and made her fall that much more.
When his probing nose become more insistent, thinking suddenly became a problem.
"God, you smell like heaven," Spike murmured, carefully rolling to his stomach while he breathed in the succulent scent of her burgeoning arousal. Completely in tune with her body's response to his touch, he wanted to see her face, finding himself oddly unsure whether to take things any further. He hadn't been lying when he had informed her that his motives for bringing her to his suite hadn't been with sexual intent, but neither was he quite the noble type any longer. Gone was the bumbling Victorian gentleman he had once been; but a part of that poncey git still remained which left Spike, the not-quite-so evil hybrid in its wake.
He noted with smug satisfaction that her head was tipped back to rest against the back of the couch, her eyes had fluttered shut, and her succulent lips were slightly parted... God, that mouth....
Watching her reaction, he deliberately bumped her clit with his nose again, his cock jumping to life at the small gasp of pleasure she rewarded him with. Christ, she was so responsive...
Suddenly unable to leave that mouth alone, he rose up on his forearms and captured her lips in a searing kiss, swallowing her squeak of surprise. Spike thrust his tongue boldly into the sanctuary of her mouth, his lips slated against hers intently. He nipped and sucked at her bottom lip while coaxing a similar response from her. Her actions were timid at first but quickly grew more assured with each growl of pleasure she elicited from him. His hands skimmed the length of her torso to settle on her hips, and Spike quickly slipped her pliant body beneath his on the couch before settling himself intimately between her thighs. Her short skirt bunched up around her hips and Buffy failed to even notice.
At her enthusiastic response, Spike found himself desperate in his need to consume her, to ultimately possess her. At the same time came the knowledge that he would halt his ardent attention at a mere word from her. In a span of a short while, a torch had been lit and he now was at her complete mercy. She was his everything.
The intimacy they had shared on stage paled in comparison to what was raging between them now. Spike felt as if he had come home. After a hundred plus year, he had found his reason for existing.
Spike could taste the power that ran deep within her as her tongue shoved his own back and fought for dominance. That underlying signature that identified her as the One. A low growl rumbled unknowingly from his chest as his demon responded to the potent taste and to what exactly he had beneath him.
The Slayer.
With a groan, his hips arched forward, grinding his denim strained cock against her sweet mound, the succulent smell of her desire only fueling him on.
One cool hand slipped under the flimsy tank, pushing up the silky wisp of a bra she wore and the ripened peach he found waiting for him fit his palm perfectly as he kneaded the pebbled tip lightly between his thumb and forefinger.
*****
Buffy was in shock. A dazed, delicious shock. She had no idea THIS could feel so good and found herself willing to totally put herself into Spike's very talented hands. One kiss and... wow. Without thought, she opened her legs up wider and encouraged him to make himself at home because whatever he was doing with pelvic grindage felt too good to put a stop to.
When she felt his hand close over her breast, she instinctively arched into his hand while his mouth continuing to devour hers. God, Spike could kiss, she thought dreamily.
"Christ, you feel so good," Spike groaned, breaking free from her lips and pressing a moist trail to her jaw. His hand found its way to her other breast, moving aside the thin slip of lace that accounted for lingerie.
"Can't wait to taste you," he murmured hungrily into her ear while he traced the outer shell with his talented tongue and sucked on the lobe, mindful of her multitudes of earrings. His breath against her sensitive skin created a new deluge of desire to pour through her and her head fell to the side at his gentle urgings, a throaty sigh passing over her lips.
Her hands began their own exploration, diving under the soft cotton of his t-shirt to seek the taut muscles that lay beneath. The not-quite normal temperature of the flesh she was caressing refused to register but as his lips moved to her neck, she instinctively tensed. This vulnerable position she had voluntarily put herself in caused the first tendrils of alarm to be sounded and it was at that moment that Buffy realized EXACTLY what it was she was doing.
She was having a heavy duty make-out session with a vampire. An UNSAFE vampire. As in, Spike. Not Angel, who she had previously thought was her everything. This was Spike. Dangerous, sans soul Spike.
And why was that getting her hot and not providing fodder for major freakage??
When his mouth left her neck unscathed and traveled south to suddenly latch around her newly bared cleavage, she decided fodder was overrated. Her body was pretty much virgin territory except to her own curious explorations, yet as Spike worshiped the peak of one very sensitive nipple with his talented tongue before moving to pay homage to its mate, Buffy realized with unrelenting certainty that the fact it was Spike that was giving her this sensually guided tour towards womanhood was all kinds of good.
It was pure instinct that had her lifting her hips to seek the friction of his protruding erection, the coarse denim chafing the tender skin of her inner thighs. Her hands roamed up and down his back, luxuriating in the feel of the hard flesh under her fingers. Spike fit her perfectly. In every way, she realized with blinding clarity. He was her equal. Buffy had a freaky feeling that more spell unlocking was taking place, but found she didn't even care. This was one revelation she would embrace with as much passion as he was creating within her.
He was hers.
Spike growled low in his chest when he felt the searing heat of her quim undulating against his rock hard cock and he moved his hips to give them both the friction they craved. Lifting his head up from the succulent perfection of her breasts, he studied her face, awe coming to light when he took note of the wanton ecstasy on proud display.
While his demon gloried at being the one to reduce the Slayer into a quivering mass of desire, the man within him wanted to immortalize this moment, to have it imprinted in his brain forever.
Because she was perfection.
Drawing his hand down the length of her body in a possessive sweep, Spike was rewarded by a throaty moan as his fingers danced along the gentle swell of her hips, urging the already indecent skirt to hike up further, revealing the satin wisp that barely did the job of covering her to his hungry eyes. With slow deliberateness, Spike slipped one finger under the flimsy material seeking the ambrosia he knew would be waiting, already practically drowning in her musky scent.
***
Buffy knew Spike was watching her response but when his talented fingers made their way inside her thong, all sense of purposed embarrassment fled until there was only...him. And the way he made her feel. He seemed to know exactly where to touch her; each gentle probe, each stroke almost calculated to bring her to the edge of an almost absolute frenzy of pleasure.
"Oh god...." Buffy breathed when his thumb found her clit, her hands suddenly gripping his shoulders as if in danger of falling. Pressure built up in the pit of Buffy's stomach and she instinctively began to move against him when he slipped one finger into her tight, wet channel. She could practically feel his intent stare pinned on her as her head thrashed from side to side, every fiber in her being clamoring for release.
When Spike lowered his head to once again capture a rosy tip into his greedy mouth, suckling and teasing it with his tongue, Buffy's world suddenly dropped out.
With a surprised scream, an intense burst of indescribable pleasure suddenly flooded and encompassed her entire body, wave after wave of shimmering ecstasy pummeling every fiber of her being. Under the assault of such foreign sensation, Buffy failed to feel the forehead ridges that suddenly emerged to rub against her tender skin nor the fangs that subsequently dropped into the meaty swell above the pebbled tip that Spike had been been giving worship to.
As the last tremors of her earth-shattering orgasm jerked through her, Buffy's brain slowly regrouped and began to process information once more. A lazy languid feeling took root, but when her spider sense threatened to defeat the afterglow, Buffy opened her eyes.
To find Spike's fangs embedded in her breast.
And why did that not bother her as much as it should?
tbc..
Chapter 18
Buffy studied the bowed head intently. "Spike, your fangs are in my boob."
If he heard her, there was no response and Buffy was suddenly very much aware of the sensations caused by the almost languid pull of her blood into his welcoming mouth.
And god help her, it felt good.
It was that shocking revelation alone that managed to register on her scale of freakage and the unhurried afterglow she had experienced in the wake of her first mind-numbing orgasm fled with a sudden hitch of breath and a subtle stiffening of every muscle her body possessed.
"Spike?" she whispered fearfully.
Spike was in a state of perfect bliss; surrounded by the overwhelming perfume of the Slayer's release, the nirvana that ran through her veins was sliding effortlessly down his throat, and her warm body was pliant under his. This was a place he didn't ever want to leave.
Until the scent of her fear broke through his self-absorbed paradise.
That was when he realized her body was no longer pliant beneath his -and with a heavy sigh, he extracted his canines from her succulent flesh, catching the renegade drops of blood that followed their exit, his tongue swirling over the shallow marks he had made.
With just as much consideration, he slid his hand from between her legs - barely managing to refrain from bringing his digits to his mouth to lick the juices he knew coated them.
But what gave him pause was not knowing if her fear was in response to the man or the vampire, and not wanting to add further torment, he grabbed hold of his base instincts that wanted nothing more than to rip her panties off and fuck her into the couch.
Instead, he allowed his features to shift back to the face Spike knew the Slayer was familiar with. Once he had her attention, he captured her gaze and held it, his eyes probing intently.
"Wasn't trying to hurt you," he told her softly, feeling slightly pained at her apparent lack of trust.
Buffy nodded nervously as she found herself unable to look away. She had caught the glimpse of hurt that flashed across his expressive face making for a world of conflict for Buffy.
Reaching up to gently cup her jaw, Spike gave her a tender smile before taking a deep, calming breath.
"I'm a vampire, Buffy. You knew what I was when you came up here and let me touch you," he quietly reminded her, readjusting her clothing so everything was properly covered once more.
"I know," Buffy bit out, not able to help the telltale blush from rising to her cheeks.
"Then what?" Spike asked. When he saw the flood of color hit her cheeks, a slow, satisfied smirk graced his lips. "Ahh. I see. Liked it, did ya?"
Buffy made a weak attempt to glare into his smirking face, yet not protesting when he rolled them over and tucked her against him, smoothing her skirt down.
"You're a sensual creature, Slayer. I don't want you be embarrassed about anything we do, you got that?" He kept his eyes pinned on her until she nodded, then finally allowed himself to adjust the erection that was in no danger of going away any time soon.
"You... would have stopped, right?" Buffy asked in a halting voice, hating how weak she sounded. Didn't matter if he stopped or not, she was still the Slayer.
But it did matter.
Spike's jaw clenched as the implications of her question struck home, and he had to work hard to temper his initial anger. After counting to ten, he felt it safe to respond. "Yes pet, I would have stopped. I just needed to taste you, is all."
At the look of relief on Buffy's face, Spike was glad he had made the effort to calm himself before answering the unspoken question of 'would you have killed me?'
Guiding her head to rest against his chest, Spike remarked, "I suppose this is where I'm supposed to apologize for letting things get too far out of hand? I did tell you I didn't bring you up here to have my wicked way with you and all."
"Only if you mean it," Buffy replied, her voice back to normal as she continued to enjoy the feel of Spike's body pressed against her own.
"Nope, not sorry at all, actually." Spike's head jerked around to the entry way. "What in the bloody hell do you have in your purse? It's been growling ever since we got here."
"What?" Spike's abrupt change of topic was disconcerting to say the least.
"Something in your purse is making with the rumblies."
Her pager. Great.
Trying to extricate herself from his embrace, she threw him an exasperated look when his arms tightened their hold; effectively denying her passage
"It's my pager, Spike, let me up."
With an exaggerated sigh, Spike released her and watched as his golden girl padded across the room to where she had dropped her purse upon their initial entrance. His body already missed the soft warmth she had provided, his hard-on in no danger of going away soon, yet he felt no overwhelming urge to seek his own release.
He had almost blown it tonight by biting her and that was the only thing he regretted. Not the actual act of it, more that he had frightened her by doing so. But to seduce her into taking their relationship to a more physical level when he knew she wasn't ready for it...
That was something he was not willing to risk, supposedly evil creature or not. That was something he could wait for.
"Can I use your phone?"
Piercing blue eyes were quickly pinned on her as he took note of the wrinkles that were now creasing her forehead. Buffy gulped loudly, unable to stop herself from visually eating up the major piece of eye candy that she had left on the couch.
He looked so deliciously rumpled and sexy that Buffy was tempted to ignore her pager and throw herself back in his arms and further explore what being with a vampire meant.
But then her pager went off again.
"Stupid thing," she grumbled, checking the number even though she was certain it was the same one that had been left about twenty times already with a very telling 911 after the number.
"You need a phone?"
Buffy's eyes were torn back to witness Spike swinging to his feet in one graceful motion before her gaze traveled down to check out the status of his crotch, mentally slapping herself at her newfound addiction of becoming a crotch watcher.
By the obvious bulge still evident, Buffy realized with a flush of embarrassment that she was the only one who had gotten any release and mortification struck. Did guys really get that blue balls thing? Did vampires, for that matter? And he hadn't gotten off because she freaked over his sticking his fangs in her boob and....
"You know, if you keep staring at it, it's never going to go away," Spike announced, highly amused. Her face had been an open book, and he couldn't help but tease her.
When her face flushed again and she had trouble meeting his eyes-clearly mortified- Spike ate up the distance that separated them and wrapped her in his arms. "Told you not to be embarrassed about any of this, luv," he chided gently, tucking the top of her head under his chin. "Silly girl."
"Sorry," she mumbled into his chest. "Just felt, uh... bad that I was the only one that..., you know..."
"Had a mind-blowing orgasm?" he finished for her, feeling her answering nod. "S'ok. I'm a big boy."
He was interrupted by her snicker and a smirk curved over his lips as he kissed the top of her head. "Ooh, my little kitten has her mind in the gutter, does she?" To emphasize his "point", Spike rubbed his big boy against her. "Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, I can handle a little unresolved sexual tension. 'Sides, if it gets too bad, I'll just step into the loo and have a quick wank."
Buffy took a step back and wrapped her arms around his neck, scowling. "Ok, that was so not a visual I needed."
He found his smile was instinctively tender as he peered into her expressive face. Oh, he was going to enjoy introducing her to the more carnal side of her nature, that was a given. His head lowered to place a brief chaste to her lips that spoke volumes before drawing back.
The infernal pager vibrated again. Cocking one eyebrow up, Spike regarded her with amusement. "Could have a bit of fun with that one, I'd wager."
Her response was automatic. "Eww, Spike!" Before she could ask for a phone again, Spike had a cell phone dangling in front of her face.
"Oh, thanks." Buffy took it and flipped it open, sneaking a quick peek at the vampire who held her. Impulsively, she reached around and pinched his butt before stepping out of his arms and flopping back to the couch, trying to remain nonchalant but Spike could hear her heart pounding away at a furious pace.
He was affecting her but good, and that was nice to know.
tbc...
a/n-another unbeta'd chapter, so beware.
Chapter 19
Buffy was openly checking him out and Spike couldn't help but leer as he hooked his thumbs through his front belt loops, causing Buffy to roll her eyes dramatically as she waited for the person she had called on the cell-phone to answer.
They were back on comfortable and familiar footing, and Spike didn't even want to examine the relief he felt. His need for her had grown beyond the physical; she has swiftly invaded every fiber of his being and to be denied even a portion of that would be a torment unlike any he had ever experienced.
Spike knew she was clueless regarding the power over him that she wielded and he was looking forward to enlightening her.
It promised to be a very...satisfying experience.
"Blair?" he heard Buffy say into the phone before quickly whipping it away from her ear. Even Spike had to cringe at the loud barrage of screaming that was being spewed over the line, his acute sense of hearing pained by the sheer volume.
When there was a lull in the noise, Buffy apprehensively put the phone back to her ear. "Blair?..... BLAIR......BLAIR!!!!!!!!!" After a moment, Buffy was able to continue. "Ever hear of a thing called volume control? Because hello, shout much?.... Inside voice, Blair, INSIDE VOICE. I can't understand a word you're saying."
Apparently Blair managed to switch to an indoor voice because Spike was able to see when Buffy's coloring suddenly paled and her wide, panicked eyes suddenly locked with his.
"Are you sure?" Another pause. "Well this is all kinds of not good..... Ok, I'm sorry I didn't call sooner!....... I was busy!...What?......Uh, nothing.... Nothing as in, none of you business, ok?"
Spike waited until she had hung up and sat there with a shell-shocked expression before he made his move. Closing the distance in two short steps, he scooped her up in his arms, and settled her non-protesting body in his lap. "What happened?"
"Buffy is in deep doo doo. Again."
A quirk of his eyebrow asked the silent question and Buffy sighed, wondering why her life always had to be so confusing.
"It's my mom," she finally said, suddenly feeling her tender years. Here she was wrapped in the yummy arms of a way old vampire and she was complaining about her mom. Teenager much? Shrugging it aside, she continued, "She doesn't know I'm the slayer, thinks I'm a troublemaker."
"Like your dad did."
It was a statement, not a question, but Buffy nodded anyway. "From what I could get out of Blair, it sounds like mom did recon in my room tonight and happened upon my slayer stash. Now she's totally convinced herself that I'm a Satan worshipper or something like that."
Buffy didn't expect the loud burst of laughter from Spike, watching aghast as he laughed himself into tears. "Oh god," he muttered, swiping at the moisture that had cropped up during his mirth, "that's bloody hysterical."
"Glad you think my life is so funny," Buffy remarked, her eyes narrowing at the continuing smirk he wore.
Fingering the ends of her hair, Spike grinned wolfishly. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, pet. You see it from my side,--being evil and all-- and YOU, the Holy Mother Virgin soddin' Slayer, gettin' accused of Satanic worship is just downright...poetic."
Allowing her ruffled feathers to be soothed, Buffy let him off the hook with an eye roll. "Alright fine, so maybe it IS a little ironic. Doesn't mean you have to laugh about it." She threw him one last warning look as he pretended to zip his lips, then continued.
"So anyway, my dad is making with the Calvary and is driving up to help me face my mom and...oh GOD, I so don't want to go home." She dramatically buried her face into his hard chest, not able to help but breathe in his unique scent. Strange how she had come to associate his smell with comfort in such a short time. "Blair said my mom has been calling my dad every fifteen minutes with a new theory after pretty much tearing my room apart."
"She's just worried about you, is all," Spike commented.
Buffy lifted her head and looked at him suspiciously. "Since when did you become Mr. Insight Guy?"
Spike snorted derisively. "Yeah right. That's me. It's just common sense. Your mum finds this stuff in your room. What...stakes? Crosses? Holy water?" When he received confirmation for each item, he continued, "What else then? You have a weapons stash somewhere?"
Buffy cringed. "Yeah, swords, axes. This really cool scythe thingie that Giles gave me. Plus Blair said she found a bunch of Giles's boring demon books he made me take one time that I was supposed to study."
Spike gestured with his hand. "See? Right there. If she was on snoop patrol, she was probably expecting the worst case scenario to be drugs or somethin' like that."
Buffy pouted and crossed her arms against her chest. "Still. How does having demon books make me a Satan worshipper? I so don't get it."
Spike set Buffy on her feet, ignoring the glare she sent his way. She was stalling and he knew the sooner he got her home, the better off she'd be. "Look, I know it and you know it, but to your mum? As you would say, it is wicked conspicuous ." He mocked her valley girl accent which earned him an indignant glare.
"I so don't sound like that."
"Yeah you do." Spike walked around the suite collecting the room card and his car keys, shoving his wallet in his back pocket before grabbing his duster off the back of the chair and slipping it on. "Come on, let's go. You need to get there before your dad does."
Buffy followed him out, muttering about interfering evil-fluffed vampires which earned her a warning look.
"Don't call me that," he told her.
"Don't call you what?" Buffy brazened out, grabbing the hand that was extended her way as they walked down the hallway towards the elevator.
"You know what."
"Oh. You mean evil-fluffed?"
"Yeah."
Buffy bit back a giggle. "I don't know. I kind of like it. Kind of like the Staypuft Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters. Except, you know, more evil." Her laughter couldn't withstand the heat of his withering glare and it escaped in a burst of giggles.
Buffy suddenly found herself spun around and sandwiched between five foot ten inches of nostril-flaring vampire and the unrelenting wall next to the elevator, her wrists trapped in a vise-like grip above her head. She felt every inch of his solid body that was smashed against her.
"Think I'm all fluffy now?" he murmured dangerously into her ear, deliberately grinding his pelvis against her in a slow erotic circle.
"No!" Buffy squeaked, her hormones wrecking havoc on her self-control as she stared wide-eyed into the smoldering, dangerous blue of Spike's. Why he seemed so determined to teach her a lesson over calling him fluffed, Buffy hadn't a clue, figuring it had to be some dominating vampire thingy. Then came the illumination that there was a total lack of fear on her part and she smiled. Since he'd already fanged her boob and she'd lived to tell the tale, she decided to say to hell with restraint and give some of her own back.
Wrenching her wrists out of his tight hold, she didn't pause before throwing her arms around his neck and bringing him down to meet her lips in a searing kiss, tracing his fullness of his bottom lip with her tongue before sucking it into her mouth.
She was rewarded with a hungry growl and her mouth was suddenly invaded as he tasted and explored the moist cavern, his arms banding around her to press her even closer, lifting her up so that his aching shaft was nestled between that sweet spot between her thighs as the pelvic grinding commenced with gusto.
"Oh MY!"
Spike lifted his head from the homage he was paying to Buffy's lips to see a well-dressed elderly couple staring aghast. His inner gentleman flared when he realized he was practically making love to Buffy right there by the elevator and he bowed his head apologetically, allowing the mortified Slayer to slide down his body.
"Erm, sorry," he mumbled, finding himself unable to meet their accusing eyes as he took a step back from Buffy, allowing his hand to trail gently down her arm and she looked at him gratefully, her face flooded with color.
Doing the dirty dancing in front of mucho people? No big.
But getting busted by grandma?
Totally mortifying.
"Hmmpf!" Grandma gave the elevator down button a savage poke, and there was a mercifully short wait before the doors slid open and she stormed inside, her orthopedic shoes refusing to make much noise despite a considerable effort. Her husband shot Spike a quick apologetic look before hobbling in behind her.
"Oh my GOD, that was SO embarrassing," Buffy breathed, smacking his chest when Spike merely smirked.
"They can take the next one!" Spike heard announced in a disapproving, shrill voice from within the elevator's confines and something about the high and mighty tone managed to irk his inner gentleman. Buffy looked at him questioningly when she saw Spike take on his familiar cocky attitude, now knowing that was NOT the real Spike.
"Come on, pet. They can't keep the doors open forever."
Before Buffy could protest, Spike had grabbed her hand and was pulling her into the elevator, both noticing immediately that Grandma had been in the process of frantically attempting to push the 'door closed' button before they could step inside.
Buffy missed the smirk Spike sent the lady.
Even though it was already lit up, Spike made a production of pushing the button for the lobby several times in the most obnoxious manner possible before Buffy pulled him away from the control panel.
"Knock it off! God! And I'M supposed to be the immature one?" Buffy hissed.
He merely smiled infuriatingly at her, sinking his hands into the pockets of his duster and rocked his hips forward.
That was when Buffy noticed something else.
Spike was making NO effort to hide his continued erection. In fact, Buffy was convinced he was deliberately pulling the edges of his duster open where she could see it clearly outlined and straining against the tight denim. Mortified and aroused at the same time, Buffy looked quickly over her shoulder and noted with relief that Grandma and Grandpa seemed determined to ignore them, their eyes focused steadfastly on the doors in front of them.
Buffy visibly started when Spike's voice rumbled through the small space.
"So...pet," He made no effort to temper his volume, actually projecting louder than the small space necessitated. "We got any new developments happening on today's Crotch Watch?"
"WHAT?" Buffy hissed, her face burning both with the realization that he knew she was staring at his crotch and his loud announcement with the seniors to hear. "GOD! You are SO twisted!"
Snickering, he drew her into his arms again. "Yeah, but you love it." Spike gave her a smoldering look, running the tip of his tongue along his front teeth, enjoying Buffy's mortification. He found the horrified gasp from behind them satisfying as well, now that killing wasn't a sport he typically indulged in.
Spike tipped his head to the ceiling and noted the mirrors that reflected back at him. An evil smirk played on his lips. "Look pet. They've got mirrored ceilings."
As expected, the seniors looked up. Then looked at Spike before looking toward the ceiling again, their mouths forming an "O" with shock and confusion.
"What...."
The doors finally slip open and Buffy dragged a smirking Spike out, ignoring the couple who remained frozen in the elevator. She pulled him through the lobby, wanting nothing more than to smack that smile off of him.
Buffy waited until he had given the ticket to a different valet guy before shaking her head derisively at him.
"What? That was fun."
"What? You mean trying to give old people a heart attack? I'm surprised you didn't flash some fang at them."
"Yeah, I should've. Would have been funny to see," Spike agreed easily.
The Porsche came and this time Buffy knew better and allowed Spike to open her car door, even if she wasn't used to those type of manners. Before she slid in though, she reached up to whisper in his ear.
"You are SO Evil-fluffed."
This time Spike didn't bother denying it.
tbc.
a/n-Credit for crotch watching goes to AmyB and Tam, thanks girls! And thank you to copy,Q, amy and always who settled my comma question!
a/n-this chapter just wrote itself like this, and I honestly have NO idea if it works or not. But... here it is.
Chapter 20
Buffy could feel her stomach churning and tightening into knots the closer they got to her house, anxiety causing her pulse to race and she wanted nothing more than to beg Spike to just take her away. Anywhere but having to face the wrath of mom. Even the knowledge that she wasn’t the troublemaker she was alleged to be doing little to calm the nausea that threatened to spew.
When Spike pulled the powerful black car up to the curb outside her house, Buffy threw him a suspicious look.
"And you knew where I lived because....?"
If she expected an answer, she didn't get one as Spike merely sent her a sexy wink and hopped out of the car.
This time Buffy stayed put and waited for him to open her door, now knowing that somewhere deeply ingrained in his mutated makeup, gentlemanly manners such as door-opening were of the important.
Plus it made her feel all girly and that was something she didn’t get to feel everyday.
Spike took her hand and began leading her up to the door, her feet growing heavier and heavier the closer they got.
"Don't make me go in there!" she begged, snatching her hand away and leaping off the walkway to take cover in the shadowed part of the yard.
With a snarl, Spike followed and grabbed her, his fingers digging into her shoulders. His intense eyes bored into hers. "Your mum is in there worried about you, luv. Wondering where SHE went wrong, what SHE did to make you do the things she thinks you did. She doesn't deserve that, and YOU don't deserve that either."
Buffy bit her lip and tried to look away, but Spike caught her chin with his hand. "Come on, pet. No acting like a scared little girl. Go face your mom like the slayer you are. You've got nothing to bloody well be ashamed of."
At her arched eyebrow and pointed look, Spike grinned. 'Wot? You mean me?"
The front door to the Summers house flew open and Buffy’s mom was suddenly framed in the entryway, flipping on the outdoor lights that didn't do much to chase away the lingering shadows.
"Buffy?" There was a frantic tone that wasn't usually present in her mom's voice.
With a sigh, Buffy turned to face her mom. "Yeah, it's me."
Seeing her daughter’s silhouette, Joyce’s face suddenly closed off and she pointed sternly into the house. "You get yourself in here right now, young lady!"
With a resigned sigh, Buffy looked at Spike. "Are you... uh...coming?"
He snorted impatiently. "Bloody right I'm coming in. Not letting you go through this by yourself."
Her relieved smile warmed him.
"If you have someone with you, I think you need to tell them to go home," Joyce announced frostily, seeing Buffy emerge from the shadowed part of the yard, but not alone. "We have something to...Oh!" Recognition lit up her face. "William?"
Spike smiled easily in response, shoving his hands in his duster pockets and ducking his head in a beguiling manner. "Hello Joyce."
Buffy turned to regard him curiously. "William?" she mouthed, then rolled her eyes. Somehow this did NOT surprise her in the least.
What DID surprise her was watching her mom‘s flustered demeanor; her hands traveling to her waist to smooth down the non-existant wrinkles of her blouse before making their way to allow the same treatment to her hair. Her mom was acting NERVOUS, for crying out loud and Buffy threw an exasperated look at Spike's deceptively innocent manner.
Shaking her head in disgust, Buffy stomped up the steps to the porch, inwardly cringing when she saw the bloodshot eyes her mom sported. Obviously her newfound status as a satan worshipper had been celebrated with whatever was in the liquor cabinet. Great.
Joyce gave a nervous laugh as she watched William trail behind her daughter. "I had no idea you even knew where I lived," she commented inanely.
Buffy gave a rude snort. "You know, that's exactly what I said."
Blazing eyes were pinned in her direction and Buffy didn't think she'd ever seen her mom look so...furious. "Buffy Anne Summers! You, young lady, are in a heap of trouble, so I suggest you just keep your mouth shut."
"Mom, I-"
"Not a word," Joyce warned and turned to Spike, giving a small self conscious laugh. "William, I apologize. I've been having some problems with my daughter; I am beyond mortified that you have to be here to see this."
Buffy's mouth gaped open as she gazed at the woman who had surely just lost her mind. "Mom, I think-"
Her mom rounded on her, face set with fury. "Buffy, you WILL be quiet."
Buffy looked helplessly at Spike and her temper flared at his grin. The bastard thought this was funny! Her hands fisted tightly at her side and she glared at Spike who dared to wink at her.
"William, this is my daughter, Buffy." Joyce's voice dripped with insincerity. "Buffy, this is William, a valued customer from the gallery." The look on her mom's face clearly read 'you do anything rude and I will kill you.'
And she had thought being busted by Grandma at the hotel had been horrifying.
After receiving another infuriating wink from Spike, Buffy was forced to bear witness as he became all Mr. Charming Guy, a disgusting schmooze-fest taking place that kept Buffy's frozen with incredulity,. Yet another reminder that Spike in Code Evil status was the most dangerous of all predators, and there was no doubt that this recent change of emotions was truly for the good.
But…Buffy had to hand it to him. He was damn good, even though she had to work hard to tamp down the flare of jealousy at her mom's weak attempts to return the subtle flirtation, cringing with all the embarrassment of her teenage years. An invite into the Summers inner sanctum had been smoothly obtained and Spike had efficiently herded them inside, her mom never realizing that Spike had never acknowledged the introduction to the troublesome daughter.
Buffy felt the urge to smack her mom’s cluelessness, but had to give Spike credit where it was due. He had prevented a scene of mass proportion from taking place, knowing full well that whatever was said would pass from their porch to the neighbors’ loose lips in seconds flat, an entire network of revolving door gossips that sometimes acted like their neighbors living in the houses surrounding them.
And that was something her mother WOULD totally blame her for, her fault or not.
But, it didn't mean that Buffy was forgiving him either, especially after seeing how much he was enjoying himself, the cool amusement flickering in the depths of his expressive eyes. It wasn't like he had to ENJOY her mother's ill-concealed interest because that was just... wrong, Buffy decided with a pout. And icky, she added, crossing her arms defensively against her chest.
Stupid schmoozing vampire.
And god, her mom? Buffy watched as she fluttered over to the liquor cabinet to refill her drink and pour one for Spike, then had to stomach the coy look when she handed said beverage over, insisting that he have a seat, leaving Buffy standing in the entryway, all but ignored.
Through narrowed eyes, Buffy witnessed Spike's casual sprawl into the indicated chair, the leisurely sip of his newly acquired scotch and soda. Oh god, the nausea was building.
What popped the cork for the incredulous was when her mom turned to her, making sure to keep her back to her "guest" and allowed her very stern mom face surface. "Upstairs now," Joyce whispered harshly, pain and disillusionment clearly shadowed in those bloodshot eyes. "I'll deal with you later."
Buffy's mouth dropped. Again. Her eyes flew over her mom's shoulders to catch the no longer amused expression on Spike's face, not wanting to admit that her mom's tone had managed to cut her down.
"Joyce."
Buffy knew Spike well enough to hear the dangerous taint of anger in his voice that was revealed with that one spoken word.
Joyce whipped her head around in confusion to stare at this version of William, who no longer resembled the charming Englishman she'd had the pleasure of selling many pieces to for his club in Los Angeles. But she now noticed the intensity of his gaze was pinned on her daughter and her head shot back around, her eyes widening with un-spoken question when she saw that Buffy returned William’s scrutiny.
Suddenly feeling very stupid, Joyce clutched her fists tightly and her mouth tightened in a grim line. "You already know Buffy."
Tbc…
chapter 21
Suddenly feeling very stupid, Joyce clutched her fists tightly and her mouth tightened in a grim line. "You already know Buffy."
Buffy was relieved when Spike fielded the question, getting to his feet and crossing the room to stand next to her in a show of solidarity.
Joyce shook her head as random thoughts and disturbing scenarios flitted through her mind. Oh sure she’d always been flattered by the attention that William had paid her; his suave manners coupled with his bad boy looks had made him the talk of the gallery and every female employee secretly coveting a visual taste of him on the few occasions he had stepped foot into the gallery. She hadn’t even given thought to why William had chosen HER gallery to use for his club when LA bred art galleries faster than germs could breed but now she was beginning to get a disturbed idea.
There was an easy familiarity between her daughter and this man that Joyce was wondering how it had been missed when they had first show up together, but blamed it on the shock of seeing William in such an unfamiliar setting. True, he had never flirted with her openly, and tonight had been no different. William had the reputation for knowing exactly what he wanted, uncaring of how much it cost to get it, making him a very valued customer. It had been more her own lonely urgings that had prompted her own actions this evening.
In her defense, why should she think that William knew her daughter? It was something that had been beyond ridiculous to even consider. Buffy was sixteen years old and while she didn’t know how old William was; by appearance alone, she suspected he was at least twice Buffy’s age.
And that is where Joyce realized how naive she had been.
Anger and a thin tendril of fear began working its way through her, as implications of what she had learned about her daughter this evening began shedding light on this possible relationship.
“You bastard,” Joyce ground out, her entire body rigid with rage.
Buffy and Spike exchanged looks, not quite sure how to approach this.
“You came to the gallery so you could recruit my daughter, didn’t you? You sick, sick man,” Joyce accused.
“What?” Buffy exclaimed. “No mom, it’s totally not like that. When he came to your gallery, I didn‘t even KNOW he was here.”
“Buffy, do you really think I am inclined to believe ANYTHING you have to say?”
Tears sprung unbidden to pool in Buffy’s eyes as that helpless feeling overwhelmed her again. Beside her, she could feel Spike tense, his body practically vibrating with anger.
“Joyce. You have no idea what you are saying here. I suggest that before you say anything you REALLY regret, you sit down and let Buffy say her piece,” Spike suggested, his tone deceptively mild.
“You’re her Judas Priest, aren’t you?” Joyce accused.
“I’m her bloody WHAT?” Spike laughed outright.
“The one who guides her through demon worshipping. Her mentor, guide, whatever.”
Spike looked thoughtful. “Well, you’re not far off….”
“Spike!” Buffy hissed. “So not the time for the cryptic demon humor.”
Spike shot her a smirk before turning his attention back to the elder Summers.
“So your name isn’t even William, is it?” Joyce asked, her lingering mortification at her flirting making the words that much harsher.
“William is my name. Spike is more of an… acquired nickname.” He turned to Buffy. “When is your dad getting here? Do you want to wait for him?”
Buffy looked thoughtful. For support? Oh she was all for the waiting. But she also knew her mom didn’t deserve this mental torment of thinking her daughter was this bad, evil thing, completely ignoring the thought of the other bad, evil thing at her side.
Heaving a pained sigh, Buffy shook her head and gave her mom a pleading look. “Can we uh, maybe sit down and do the talking thing?”
With a steely look at Spike, Joyce nodded her head and managed to rein in her turbulent emotions to settle herself down to have a civilized conversation with her daughter, taking a quick detour to the liquor cabinet first.
Spike was not offered a refill.
A sick feeling began churning in Joyce’s gut when she witnessed the close proximity of this familiar stranger to her daughter on the couch, barely registering Buffy’s subtle attempts to put some distance between them for propriety’s sake before Buffy finally succumbed to the comfort that Spike’s presence at her side gave her.
“What did you do to my little girl?” Joyce opened with, her tone still hostile and suspicious.
Buffy tensed, almost dreading Spike’s response to that rudely posed question.
Spike’s lips worked into a slight frown before allowing a heavy sigh to be expelled. “Joyce, before we go into how I know your daughter, something else needs to be cleared up before hand.”
Buffy watched as her mom actually snorted and jumped to her feet, stomping across the room to grab a few items off the side table. She held them up for inspection, gesturing wildly.
“You mean something that has to do with these?” She read the title of one of the books she held in her hands. ‘Recognizing and Correctly Identifying Your Most Common Demons in Five Easy Steps’
At the incredulous look Spike gave her, Buffy shrugged defiantly. “What? I told you they were courtesy of Giles. Think he’d actually give me something interesting to read?”
“Mr. Giles?” The eagle ears of her mom had not missed the reference. “Is he involved in this… cult also?” Joyce demanded.
“Mom! There is no cult!”
Joyce threw the book down to the ground where it bounced and landed with a resounding thud. She grabbed a stake to take its place, not seeing Spike‘s flinch. “Don’t play me as stupid, Buffy. How else can you explain this?” She tossed the stake aside to palm a small sword, her wobbly air slashes giving Buffy cause for alarm.
“And this? I may just work in an art gallery, but even I know that this is dried blood caked on here.” Her eyes teared up as they shot accusations in Buffy‘s direction. “Buffy, how COULD you? Live sacrifices?”
“You don’t clean your weapons, pet?” Spike questioned, his eyes taking on the gleam of the slightly amused.
Buffy shot him a warning look before lumbering to her feet to join her mother across the room, ignoring the flash of hurt when her mom took a step back from her. “You didn’t find my diary, did you?” she asked softly
The blank look on her mom’s face gave her the answer she already possessed and Spike saw her draw herself up, his beautiful Slayer.
“Because if you did and you had sank low enough to read it as you obviously were to search my room, you wouldn’t be standing here scared of me, thinking I am all with the worshipping of satan and killing of live animals.”
“Then please Buffy. Explain it to me.” Buffy didn’t miss the desperate pleading in her mom’s voice, the hopeful beseeching that Buffy would have an explanation that would make all this pain and hurt go away. That she really hadn’t been a bad parent, allowing her daughter to be led astray right under her nose.
Buffy opened her mouth to finally admit to her Chosen status only to find that her voice had spontaneously decided to cease working.
Helplessly, she cast a pleading glance at Spike, watching with relief as he came to stand next to her.
“Your daughter is a bloody miracle, Joyce,” Spike finally said, pressing his hand into the small of Buffy’s back.
Instead of relief, her mom only looked angrier. “So this is some sort of religious cult, is it? Not satanic at all? Don’t tell me,” she added scornfully, “you were chosen by God to lead her on the path of righteousness.”
Spike couldn’t help the snicker that escaped. “You have no idea how far from the truth you are with that one, Joyce.”
Even Buffy had to see the humor in that misguided accusation. But seeing her mom’s mental agony wasn’t funny anymore, if it ever had been.
Finally finding her voice, Buffy announced, “Mom, I am not into satanic worship or and I’m not into any creepy cult. I kill vampires,” she gestured to the weapons on the table behind her, “and I guess you could say those are sort of tools of the trade.”
*****
Xander had finally convinced Angel that it would be in Buffy’s best interest to make sure she was all right, no matter what the brooding dead guy kept trying to tell him.
Of course it had taken a precious forty-five minutes to convince him of the fact, during which time Xander and Willow had been forced to bear witness to Angel and Giles taking advantage of the two for one drink special that continued throughout the evening at the bar.
It had been a harsh and brutal three quarters of an hour for both teens, neither having faced a truly inebriated Giles before. Adding the morose moans and self-recriminations in, and it was more than either of them could stomach.
“How could I have been so blind?” Giles kept muttering over and over, his imported beer replaced with scotch.
“I should have known,” Angel kept arguing, keeping up with Giles and the scotch drinking.
“Fine, both of you should have known. Doesn’t help the fact that Buffy is now out there with a vampire whose unlife mission has been to pretty much want her dead,” Xander complained, finally fed up. “And I cannot BELIEVE that you two are just sitting here getting sauced when Buffy could be in danger. Furthermore, I REALLY can‘t believe you are just taking Angel‘s word for this, Giles, that Spike is not a danger to Buffy. Like to hear you explain THAT one to the council when Buffy winds up dead.”
That had finally penetrated the self-pity cocktail hour, and they had regrouped, Willow babysitting Giles while Xander went with Angel.
They had just turned on Revello Drive, a continuous mutual stretch of silence extending between them when suddenly Xander broke the quiet with an almost pained moan.
“Oh god.”
Angel’s head quickly whipped around for any hint of danger to find nothing registering. He could, however, pick up the scent of Spike and Buffy.
“What?” he asked exasperated.
Xander didn’t answer, merely pointed and again, Angel’s sharpened eyesight scanned for what it was that the irritating boy was talking about.
“I don’t see anything?”
“You don’t…” Xander echoed. He pointed again. “That. That wet dream called a car.”
“You mean the Porsche?”
“Yes I mean the Porsche! Do you see any other wet dreams around?” Xander exclaimed, drawing close to the object of his desire. “Oh baby, one day you will be mine, oh yes,” he murmured gently to it as he leaned to stare into the passenger window.
When Angel began growling softly, Xander jerked back. “What? I was just looking!”
“That’s Spike’s car. His scent is all over it,” Angel ground out. “And so is Buffy’s.”
Xander looked like he wanted to cry. “That is so unfair. I don’t think I like this new version of Spike. What happened to his old piece of crap car? It so fit him! All with the slogan of ‘Spike is Crap.’ What is WRONG with him? The old Spike, hey we could always count on the fact that his one goal in life was to kill Buffy.” Xander gestured widely. “But this new version of Spike? Now he’s all with the sexy Billy Idol stage thing, and he freakin’ owns the Bronze, and he gets the girl and…drives my dream car and… is it just me, or is all of this just WRONG?”
Fury was pounding through Angel as each one of Xander’s announcements hit home, the old internal battle of Angel vs. Angelus taking place.
They were interrupted by a new car pulling up to the curb behind them and shutting off the head lights.
22
Her mom just stared at her blankly, her eyes blinking rapidly as she regarded her daughter with disappointment and sorrow.
“Buffy, I don’t need you to lie to me,” Joyce said quietly, as she stared at this complete stranger before her who she had given birth to.
“I’m not lying!” Buffy exclaimed beyond frustrated. “I mean, come on mom! Wake up and smell the reality! What do crosses and holy water have to do with satanic cults? Huh? Tell me? And stakes? Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed anything weird about this town.”
Denial reared up and tried to shield Joyce from acknowledging the truth. “Every town has their share of bad elements, Buffy. Sunnydale is no different.”
Spike‘s snort broke through the thick tension that was building between the two Summers women. “Joyce, you remember Buffy’s little school function one night few months back?” His head tipped to the side as he regarded Buffy’s mom intently. “I believe it was chalked up to an ‘alleged gang on PCP’ breaking in and messing up your daughter’s pretty little doilies? I even believe there were a few fatalities?”
Denied memories squeezed through and the actual events of that evening played in Joyce’s mind and she nodded warily, watching as Spike reached over to the weapon strewn table and palmed an ax. Her breath hitched slightly when she witnessed his hands running up and down the smooth wooden handle.
“Don’t supposed you remember hitting anyone over the head with one of these babies that night, do you?” Spike asked suddenly, watching her reaction.
Joyce’s eyes widened with delayed recognition. “But… that wasn’t you,” she insisted. “That man had some hideous facial deformity. I think he was like that poor boy in that movie ‘Mask‘ with Cher.” .
Spike kept his eyes locked on Buffy’s mother, finding himself not wanting to scare her but not wanting her to hurt his girl anymore.
He shrugged and remarked sarcastically. “Right. A whole gang of deformed people on PCP. Guess they have something to be pissed about and all. Makes right sense, it does.”
Buffy snorted and reached out to touch her mom’s arm. “Mom, ok, here’s the entire sitch.” She paused to take a deep breath. “Vampires are real and I’m a Vampire Slayer.” At her look on her mom’s face, Buffy rushed to add, “I know it is all kinds of weird, but come on! Look at the facts! I‘m totally telling the truth!”
But her mom refused to believe; Buffy could see it in her eyes, that deep rooted denial. “Buffy, no. I’m sorry. I just can’t accept that.”
Buffy threw up her hands in frustration. “What? You’d rather believe I sacrifice live chickens or something?”
“No, what I WANT is the truth.”
“That IS the truth.”
“I’d like to hear more about this poor man with the obvious facial deformity,” Spike injected, his growing amusement with the whole scenario clearly evident.
Buffy gritted her teeth and sent him an annoyed look. “Sorry Spike, no mocking the afflicted in this house.”
Seeing what a toll this was taking on Buffy‘s emotional well-being, Spike decided it was time to put it to rest, once and for all.
“Bloody hell, Slayer! Just let me show your mum and we can get past this repetitive accusation and denial portion of the evening. Your mum doesn’t want to believe it, but she doesn’t want to believe you’ve been a naughty girl either. Let’s give the poor woman some peace of mind, eh? Got better things to do.”
Buffy knew exactly what those ’better things’ were, but had to agree with Spike. This had gotten old the second they walked through the door. She faced her mom again and tried for a responsible tone since it was obvious somebody had to be the grown up in this conversation and her mother was NOT fit for the role.
“Mom, we’re going to show you something, but I don’t want you to freak, ok?”
“Oh Buffy…” Her mom‘s voice trailed off as she shook her head disappointedly. But at Buffy’s bleak look, Joyce motioned for her to continue.
Buffy shot a nervous look at Spike, who nodded his support. Wringing her hands in front of her nervously, Buffy announced in a quick rush, “Spikeisavampire.”
Her mom shook her head to clear the cobwebs that had obviously garbled the words that she had heard, because there was NO way her daughter had said what she had actually thought she did. “Come again?”
Spike pushed himself away from the table he’d been leaning against. “We’re going to need the facial deformity, I’m afraid.” he told Buffy with mock severity, handing the ax over. “Ok, you’re pretending you are your mum.”
Buffy rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. You’re the big bad vampire.”
A brilliant smile answered her. “Well, yeah. That’s the reason for this little tableau, innit?”
“Buffy, what is this…”
Buffy shot her mom a glare. “Mom, not another word. You are obviously the seeing is believing type of person, so remember Back to School night?” At her mom’s nod, Buffy continued, “Well, this is what REALLY happened so watch and believe.”
Joyce nodded mutely at the commanding tone in Buffy’s voice.
“Bossy chit, your daughter.”
“Shut up Spike, and get in position.”
Spike grinned at her bossiness and did as commanded, memories of that night flashing easily through his head where he almost had the death of his third slayer under his belt.
He realized suddenly that he actually owed Joyce a debt of gratitude for nailing him with said ax.
“So anyway, remember when you hit deformed guy with an ax? Well, in actuality, deformed guy was just about to kill me.” Buffy explained, pointing at Spike who had his back to her.
Buffy raised the ax and mimed smashing him on the head with the ax as she said “get the hell away from my daughter.”
Spike fell to the ground theatrically and snarled. Buffy sighed in exasperation. “Spike, this would be a lot more convincing if you actually WERE deformed guy.”
“Oh right.” With a sharp grinding of facial bones, the facial deformity in question slid into place, distorting the upper half of his face.
When he saw the look of absolute terror on Joyce’s face, he quickly shifted back. “Don‘t think that was the best of ideas, pet. Your mum is scared out of her gourd, can hear her heart zipping away from here.”
When Buffy turned to look at her mom and saw fear reflected back, Buffy threw up her arms in aggravation “God, what is it going to take?”
She watched as her mom shakily walked over to the couch and sat down, not allowing herself eye contact with either Spike or Buffy as she downed the rest of her drink.
Finally anger burned its way through Buffy, she’d had enough. Spike could practically see it clawing to get out, her eyes becoming sharp glittering emeralds of rage as she indulged in a staring contest with her mom.
Except her mom refused to meet her eye, instead staring at a random spot on the floor.
When terse minutes of silence passed, Buffy finally stomped over to plant herself in front of her mom, her tightly fisted hands on her hips in righteous tribute.
“Your time for self pity is over, mom, so get over yourself. You demanded the truth, you got the truth. So it wasn’t what you were expecting, I get that. But you know what? My life hasn’t exactly turned out the way I was expecting either. I didn’t ASK for this. I was chosen, told I had a duty to do and I had NO CHOICE.”
“How long?” Her mom’s voice was quiet and withdrawn.
“Almost two years now, since I turned 15. So big troublemaker? Not so much.”
“Are you…evil?”
Buffy’s mouth dropped at that question. Spike stepped in to field that question, his amusement over the question evident. “Your daughter is about as far from evil as you can get. She is the white light, the shining glory, the persona of all things good…”
“And you?” Joyce interrupted Spike’s glowing monologue to regard this man she had tried to flirt with that evening. No, vampire. He was a vampire.
Buffy sighed. “We’ll talk about Spike later, ok? Just trust me for now. He’s not going to hurt anyone.”
When the front door opened, three sets of eyes whipped around. Buffy breathed in a sigh of relief when she saw her dad framed in the door. Her dad was here. This was of the good. Tears pricked her eyes and she exchanged a small smile with Spike.
But then Angel and Xander showed up behind him and her gut clenched.
tbc..
In three strides Buffy was at the door greeting her dad warmly before turning the interlopers, blocking the entrance into her house
“No way,” she warned in a firm tone, mentally gearing up for more dramatic woes. “You don’t get passage. Out.”
“Buffy, just listen…” Xander said not one to ever listen to anything.
“No Xander, YOU listen for once. Look, I just came out of the slaying closet and let’s just say it wasn’t voluntarily. My mom is all aboard the freak train and I really don’t need you here right now. “Buffy’s words were harsh but her eyes were pleading with him to understand.
“Yeah and I’m sure having Spike here is just so very helpful,” Xander commented snidely.
“Buffy, we need to-” Angel began, his face a mask of pained forbearance as he tried to ignore the overwhelming scent of Spike and passion that Buffy was completely drenched in.
“What part of ‘out’ did you not understand? I am so not doing this with you.” Buffy pulled out her resolve face, and pointed at the door. “We’ll talk later, alright?”
“Buffy,” Angel tried again, at war with what he knew to be true and what his demon wanted to unleash, leaving him feeling extremely volatile.
“Angel, don’t MAKE me throw you out. For a night that started out pretty damn good, this had spiraled into some major suckage, so honestly? I am so not in the mood. OUT.”
With a pained sigh, Angel turned and walked out the door, easily passing over the threshold that had so welcomingly allowed him passage in the recent past. Now he was the interloper, thrown to the curb like yesterday’s garbage.
And yet Spike remained inside, leaving Angel battling with his rage and his desire to tear the younger vampire apart. Yet there was that lingering guilt over the memories that had been aroused earlier by Spike’s musical tribute.
Sometimes he just really hated his soul.
“Well, that’s a whole lotta thanks we get,” Xander complained, throwing himself down petulantly on the top step of the porch. He turned around to look at Angel. “What are you doing?”
Angel sent the boy an exasperated look before pressing his ear back to the wooden barrier that had been thrown up by the girl he had thought was his. “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m eavesdropping.”
Xander scoffed. “And this surprises me not at all. Once you‘re an Evil Dead Guy, always an Evil Dead Guy, just as I‘ve been saying all along.”
There was a moment of silence.
“So Evil Dead Guy… are they saying anything good?”
***
Inside the living room, the temperature had dropped at least twenty degrees; the frosty atmosphere making Buffy seriously wish she had told her mom when her dad found out.
Because this? This was major nightmare-worthy, forget becoming vamped; that paled in comparison.
Joyce had conflicting emotions at seeing her ex-husband again; the only thing they had in common anymore was their mutual concern for Buffy‘s well-being. When she had first discovered those things in Buffy’s room, her first instinct had been to call him and get him to Sunnydale for support; the heavy burden of single parenthood more than weighing heavily.
But now? Seeing the warm greeting her daughter had given her father, Joyce had a sinking suspicion that her ex-husband was not going to be the emotional crutch she needed right now.
As Hank and Buffy had entered the living room, Joyce’s brain was frantically trying to work up a way to share this newest… thing in the clearest way possible.
But then when Hank paused and did a double-take at Spike’s presence, a bad feeling began working its way through her gut.
“Spike?” Hank asked, his brows pinching together as he stared at the vampire sans the Billy Idol tribute. “What are you doing in Sunnydale?”
“Hank,” Spike nodded his head in way of greeting, an easy smile on his face. “Have a new business venture up this way.”
“Good, good. You’ll have to tell me about it later,” Hank replied warmly, finding himself not in the least disturbed to find Spike with his daughter. If anything, it just made things easier knowing how his ex-wife could be.
“You know this…person, Hank?” Joyce accused, her eyes wide with disbelief.
Hank’s eyes met her daughter’s guiltily, traveling to briefly touch upon Spike before making their way with resignation to face his potential execution.
“Um… I met Spike in LA. He owns a night club down there. Does a pretty mean Billy Idol impersonation,” Hank commented weakly, never one to lie well. “You should see it.”
“I know about his club,” Joyce replied frostily. “But…” Her voice trailed off as she became at a loss on how to continue. How do you explain that your daughter is…whatever she is?
When the strained silence threatened to get ugly, Buffy finally took the bull by the horns and broke the silence.
“Dad already knows,” she announced quietly.
The maelstrom of emotions on Joyce’s face was clear to see and she gave full rein to it. Disbelief, hurt, anger and the lingering paranoia of why SHE had been kept in the dark while HANK, the absent parent, knew about her daughter’s professed obsession clearly etched on her face.
Her empty glass was in danger of shattering with the death grip Joyce had on it as she rose shakily to her feet. “You knew,” she accused. “You knew and didn’t see fit to tell me? That our daughter thinks she’s some sort of slaughterer?”
Buffy cringed. “Slayer, mom, SLAYER.”
Her mom rounded on her. “Oh and there is a difference?”
“Yes there is a difference!”
“I’d like to hear what it is then,” Joyce announced belligerently, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Well, for one thing a slaughterer just goes and kills things,” Buffy began.
“And that differs from what your hobby is because…?”
Buffy’s mouth dropped. “HOBBY? You think this is a hobby to me?”
“What am I supposed to think, Buffy? You keep secrets from me, you sneak around. You associate with things that shouldn’t exist, I mean, honestly? What should I think?” There was a slight hysterical edge creeping into Joyce’s voice as she tried to stare down her daughter and assert some parental control while knowing in the back of her mind that she was behaving in the most irrational manner possible.
Buffy opened her mouth to answer, the feeling of being misunderstood once again smashing through her with all the subtlety of a freight train; only to find her throat choked with tears, her vision blurred by the buildup of tears that wanted to be shed. She threw a helpless look to Spike who had already sensed her rising anguish and brought her into the comfortable circle of his embrace as she tried to stem the flow before it began.
“Buffy get away from him,” Joyce said quietly, her earlier suspicions about their relationship now grounded.
“Joyce.” It was just one word, a name, but the impact it had was great.
“Hank, he’s a vampire. Did you know THAT ?” Even as the words left Joyce’s mouth, she realized how trite they sounded. “Our daughter aligns herself with evil, Hank. How is that supposed to make me feel?”
Hank and Spike shared a quick look that spoke volumes. “Joyce, you didn’t hear a bloody word I said, did you?” Spike asked trying to keep a hold of his temper.
Buffy’s dad could almost feel Buffy’s pain, his own regret over his own callous treatment over her supposed ’troublemaker’ status striking deep. In a deceptively mild tone, Hank announced, “Our daughter is a god damn miracle, Joyce, and you better come to that same realization pretty darn quick.”
Buffy lifted her head from the safety of Spike’s welcoming chest to give her dad a small smile of gratitude.
Joyce looked at the table where all the weapons and books were scattered and a shiver went through her. She honestly didn’t know if it would have been preferable to learn her daughter was involved with satanic rituals. At least that was in the mainstream and written up in Time magazine.
But vampires and demons? She took a good look at her daughter and couldn’t fathom how Buffy could fight what she said she did. Yet in the back of her mind, Joyce knew it as the truth. Even as far back as the infamous Parent/Teacher night, she had seen how Buffy had suddenly took charge when that gang burst in. And how everybody had let her, recognizing Buffy as someone who knew what needed to be done.
She knew it, yet denied it.
She still wanted to deny it.
But seeing her daughter’s ravaged face, Joyce allowed regret to slip through the solid wall of denial and pain that surrounded her heart and mind.
With a heavy sigh, Joyce allowed acceptance to settle into place, wiping out the denial and accusations. Her own eyes brimming with tears, she took a deep breath and looked at her daughter. “Buffy, I’m sorry. For everything.”
Tbc….
a/n-Don't worry, Still have Angel and xander outside. It's not all peachy yet, Joyce was just bugging me, LOL.
Thank you SOO much for all of the reviews!!! I'm sorry I haven't responded personally to them, I totally suck with that, I know. Just want you to know how appreciated it is!!!
Chapter 24
Buffy almost didn’t hear the quiet words her mom spoke, her head whipping around to stare at her in shock. God, did her mom finally get it?
“And what…exactly are you sorry for?” Buffy couldn’t help but ask, her tone only mildly hostile rather than the fully loaded version she really wanted to unleash.
Joyce took a deep breath, finding herself suddenly unnerved by her own daughter for the first time…ever. “I’m sorry for not believing you when you told me. Ok, the first two or three times you tried to tell me,” she added with a rueful smile.
Looks were exchanged around the room and Buffy stepped away from the protection that Spike offered her ravaged emotions, turning to face her mother once more. The emotional girl had finally fled in light of Joyce’s final acceptance, and the slayer now returned to occupy her usual spot.
“This is who I am, mom. It’s not going away; it’s not something that I’ll just grow out of. I’m the vampire slayer. The Chosen one.” Buffy wasn’t even about to get into the fact that there were actually two slayers, knowing her mom was not ready to hear that she had died; even it had only been for a few minutes. There was a sneaking suspicion that her mom really DIDN’T comprehend the full scope of what her calling meant, and Buffy was all for a slow induction.
Joyce nodded, suddenly feeling very tired. “I think I finally get it now, Buffy. I guess… I just wasn‘t ready to accept it and that was at your expense. For that, I am very sorry.”
Hank stared at his ex intently, wishing he‘d gotten there just a little earlier. This was his fault. Joyce should have been told but he had supported stalling the announcement for his own selfish reasons. But now Buffy was paying the price for that and he was determined to make it up to her.
He’d had a few weeks to come to terms with what his daughter was and what really existed in this world, and Sherry had been responsible for a tremendous portion of his open-mindedness, as well as being Buffy’s biggest supporter. It had taken all of his skills of persuasion to be able to escape LA without Sherry and Blair; their insistence that Buffy needed their support still ringing in his ears.
Well, that was something that couldn’t be denied at this moment. He found himself with a surprisingly small amount of reserve and trepidation at seeing Spike with Buffy; his little girl having matured from a potential juvenile delinquent into a responsible young adult in the span of a short evening.
Plus he liked Spike, although he was a bit tired of hearing his name from his girls in LA.
Giving Buffy an encouraging smile, Hank announced, “I really hope you do, Joyce. Because our little girl? She’s amazing and deserves nothing less than our full support. In everything,” he stressed.
Now that sobriety was occurring against her will, a thought suddenly occurred to Joyce. “And when exactly did you find all this out, Hank? “
“When she was down in LA with me.”
“Ran into some trouble at my club one night and the slayer here helped me out,” Spike added, smirking when he saw Hank cringe and throw him an exasperated look, having sussed out the reason for his guilty look the minute her dad walked through the door.
New lines of disapproval creased Joyce’s face once more as she had someone else to focus her energies on, a more worthwhile target. Her ex-husband. “You took Buffy to a club?”
***
Willow had dealt with some things of the majorally freaky since she had become friends with Buffy, but tonight? Well, tonight just took the cake of wiggage.
She’d tried to get Giles home but he’d appeared sober long enough to convince her that in the search for Buffy, he was more than capable of ’lending a hand.’
Now Willow deeply regretted her gullible-ness, especially after having to restrain Giles from his current task of weaving through the streets of Sunnydale calling out, “Here…Buffy, Buffy, Buffy… Come here girl,” as if he were searching for a lost pet rather than a wayward Slayer.
In between his unhelpful yells which had the potential of attracting unwanted attention coupled with the moments of hysterical giggling at absolutely nothing, Willow decided to try Buffy’s house in the hopes that she would receive news. Or at the very least she would find someone to assist her with the very drunken Watcher.
Because this was just wrong.
Willow felt an overwhelming sense of relief when they turned down Revello Drive and she spied Xander’s slouched form on the top of the porch steps. A bounce found its way into her step at the prospect of ditching Giles; more than happy to spread the pleasure of his obnoxious company around.
But a bad feeling began to settle as they drew closer and she took note of the pouting, petulant look on his face; the way he sat with his chin cupped in the palms of his hands, his elbows resting on the knees.
It did not bode well.
When she saw Angel smashed against the front door like he‘d been nailed there, her sense of foreboding escalated.
Xander didn’t look up upon their arrival, seemingly lost in a world of which only he was aware; his eyes frozen on the street before him.
Giles threw himself down next to Xander on the step, expelling a contented sigh. “Sheems you found the best seat in the house. I do believe I’ll join you.” He didn’t even seem aware that there was no response from the never muted teen at his side merely launched into a tuneless hum.
Willow trailed up the walkway slowly, watching Xander’s expression carefully. She had known her friend for a long time and was familiar with his many moods; but if she was right, this was one that hadn’t seen the light of day since they were six and she’d finally given him scientific proof that had confirmed-without a doubt- that there was no such thing as the Easter Bunny.
First Xander had cried and called her a big fat liar.
Then he had pouted. For days, he had stared morosely at his Easter basket, now unable to deny it had been his parents responsible for the meager contents and not the mythical creature he had secretly coveted.
So this was a look she thought she recognized. The look of the seriously disillusioned.
Willow found herself growing worried about him. Lots of surprises tonight, yes; but for Xander to have given up his capacity for speech was something that she hadn’t witnessed except for that time so many years ago.
“Xander?” she called out upon her approach. Eyes laden with gloom turned her way and Willow’s heart leapt. Poor Xander. He looked so torn up.
“What happened?” she asked.
“My car.”
At first Willow didn’t understand the barely audible mumble but then she looked where Xander’s focus had returned and finally began to get an inkling. “What about it?” she asked carefully.
“It’s wrong. It’s all wrong.”
“Can I just say huh?” Willow asked, this side of perplexed as she sank down on the other side of Xander.
“Will you people shut up? I’m trying to listen here,” Angel growled causing a slight reflexive jump from Willow at the irritated tone.
“Well what happened?” she asked Angel since Xander was uncommunicative for the first time in… well a really, really long time. That alone was cause for the snippy tone she found herself using with the eavesdropping vampire.
With an irritated sigh, Angel peeled his ear away from the door and turned to look at the newcomers. “Could you try not to snap him out of it? I was actually enjoying the silence.”
Willow pulled out her big guns, allowing her world patented Resolve Face to take over her features as she stared down the once very dangerous vampire. “I’m waiting,” she asked impatiently.
“The car,” Angel said, motioning to the sleek black sports dream at the curb. “He started babbling about how unfair it was, then went blessedly catatonic.”
“Good heavens, you’re saying that’s all it took? Why ever didn‘t I think of something like that?” Giles asked, attempting to look intelligent but failing miserably. “Although I must say, that is quite a serviceable machine
Willow was missing something, she just knew it. Some secret…guy thing. “So what’s the big with that car?”
That seemed to snap Xander out of it, his voice bordering on the hysterical. “It’s not just a ‘that car.’ It’s my dream car. Every secret fantasy I have ever had has featured me and that car.“ Willow didn’t dare point out he had just referred to the Porsche as ‘that car,’ merely sat and listened to the rant. “And now? It’s all ruined. I’ll have to start my fantasies anew because it’s all wrong now.” Xander shook his head in silent misery, his eyes looking suspiciously like they were in the process of tearing up.
“I’m still not seeing the big.”
Angel whipped around again. “It’s Spike’s car, that’s why.”
Understanding dawned quickly. “Ahhh. Got it.” What she wasn’t prepared for was the outburst from the inebriated Watcher.
Giles leapt to his feet in protest, almost falling down the steps in the process. Managing to stay upright, he shouted indignantly, “Good lord! You can’t possibly mean to tell me that this particular fine schpecimen of an automobile is wasted on SCHPIKE of all people? Er, things?”
Xander gazed at Giles with something akin to hero worship, his head bobbing with the overwhelming commiseration he now shared with the older man.
“Yes, that’s what we’re saying. It’s a sad cruel world, isn’t it?” Xander asked, his tone completely serious.
Willow watched this take place detachedly before globbing onto a small piece of info. “Wait, Spike and Buffy are here?”
“Why do you think we’ve got Ears Mcgee there?” Xander snarked, now completely restored to his former obnoxious self. Now he knew why they said misery loves company.
“Don’t call me that,“ Angel threatened.
Attempting to straighten his glasses with little success, Giles cleared his throat and assumed what he considered his best watcherly tone, unmindful of the painful slurring his voice had taken on.
“Earsh Mcgee, I’d like a status report pleesh.” The pompous effect was ruined when Giles suddenly burst into a fit of giggles leaving Xander and Angel aghast.
Angel was just about to open his mouth to respond when the door he was leaning against was flung open.
Now sprawled across the threshold that he had been ordered to remove himself from earlier, Angel immediately shifted into game face when he saw a smirking Spike looming over him.
“Ears Mcgee, I presume?”
Angel didn’t pause to think, merely responded instinctively in a flurry of fist and fang.
Tbc
a/n boy did I feel like killing joyce off. *sighs* But, in order to make this plausibly believable (or at least a little) she just gets the bad mom award. It will NOT continue tho for the whole fic, so just be patient.
Thank you to megan for looking this over for me!
Chapter 25
Joyce was just preparing to grill Hank about the circumspect events that had occurred while Buffy had been under his care in Los Angeles, her mouth opened and posed to fire the rapid questions only to have her attention diverted when Spike abruptly turned on his heel and exited the room, heading towards the front entryway.
A clear view of the door was afforded and Joyce watched as Spike threw it open with an exaggerated sweep. Her jaw quickly dropped open when she witnessed the man that she had been introduced to as Buffy’s ‘tutor’ fall through the open doorway to land in a sprawling heap on the floor. Her eyes practically bulged from her head when she witnessed the return of another deformed looking guy as the heap on the floor lumbered quickly to his feet and attacked Spike with a loud roar that Joyce knew no mere human could make.
“Buffy?” her mom gasped, tearing her gaze away from the snarling duo to stare questioningly at her daughter. Spike’s shift into his deformed face hadn’t really taken Joyce by surprise, vivid memories of that night at the school now firmly implanted in her mind. Her newfound lack of denial also made these things much easier to accept.
But from the determined look on her daughter’s face, Joyce knew Buffy hadn’t heard her confused questioning, her attention solely focused on the spectacle before her. It took Joyce a moment to realize that she was witnessing the transition from the Buffy she thought she knew to the warrior she had just discovered her daughter secreted.
And she wondered how in God’s name she had managed to miss it all this time.
Eyes blazing, mouth set in a firm grim line, Buffy stomped over to where Angel was in the process of attacking Spike, their feral snarls filling the air as they slammed each other into the walls, knocking pictures to a crashing mess on the floor.
“Angel! God! Knock it off!” she yelled, trying to situate herself in the middle of the brawling vamps. To Spike’s credit, he was merely blocking, although his smirking wasn’t helping to diffuse Angel’s rage.
When the antique entry table was knocked over with a resounding crash, Buffy saw red. Angel was trashing her mom’s house and attacking Spike and that was not so much with the cool as far as she was concerned. Grabbing a piece of the broken table, she warned Spike off with a look and a curled lip, noting that he was more than happy to oblige, content to watch her kick a little Angel ass. He took a step back, his hands held up in mock surrender and an amused smirk playing across his lips even though his demon was howling in acute protest over letting Buffy fight his battles for him.
But he would play nice….for now.
Spike watched as Buffy brought her leg up and executed a powerful roundhouse kick which she followed up immediately with a spin hook that nailed him in the side of the head and Angel suddenly found himself on the ground with a very pissed off and very lethal ex-girlfriend straddling him with a very sharp piece of wood positioned over his heart.
“What the hell do you think you are doing, Angel?” she demanded, hardening herself off to the look of pained betrayal that flashed over his demonic face. “You think you can just come in here and trash my mom’s house?”
“It’s Spike,” was all he was able to say, figuring that should explain everything.
“Buffy! Think you’ve got the wrong vamp under your legs,” Xander commented from his safe and secure position in the doorway. He eep’d at the pissed off snarl Spike sent in his direction. “See?” he accused, pointing at the possessive blonde vampire.
“You watch your mouth, you git. Her mum is in the room,” Spike told Xander in a steely tone.
Buffy ignored Spike’s chivalrous defense, Xander’s petulant comments, even managed to ignore the fact that her watcher had stumbled into the house; the only thing penetrating her mind was the fact that Angel had attacked Spike. In her mom’s house, no less.
“Shake off the face, Angel.”
With a pained sigh that sounded like a ridiculous lisp through the fangs, Angel shook off his demon visage and gazed up at Buffy with eyes of the truly put-upon.
“Buffy….” he began, his voice morose.
“You can’t just… fall into people’s houses and attack them, Angel!” Buffy interrupted, still outraged by his actions.
“But it‘s Spike,” Angel repeated, turning his head to look at the object of his disfavor.
“Duh! I know it’s Spike!”
“You said that already, Peaches.”
Buffy sent Spike a glare. “Stop baiting him. You‘re almost as much to blame for this so just shut up, ok?”
Spike attempted to look chagrined, but his amused smirk belied any possible sincerity.
Suddenly Angel yelped with pain and jerked his head around to find an enraged Joyce standing over him with a rolled up newspaper in her hand. “How dare you come into my house and start a fight.” She gave him another smack to the side of the head with a resounding ‘thwump‘. “And you WILL be expected to clean up every bit of this mess, do you hear me? Every last bit of it.”
“Uh Joyce, you did happen to notice that he was a vampire too, right? So maybe the rolled up newspaper swatting… a bit of an overkill?” Xander felt compelled to mention, then mentally smacked himself. This was just too good, especially watching Angel trying to dodge his head around to avoid the blows since Buffy had his arms pinned to his side with her knees. Joyce was one dangerous lady with her makeshift weapon and Xander wished suddenly that he had a camera. It wasn’t every day that a master vampire like Angelus got disciplined and smacked around like some disobedient puppy.
“Mom, think you can lay off with the newspaper,” Buffy said, slowly rising off of Angel, keeping her stake prepared in case Angel decided to attack again. The look on his face was embarrassed fury, but he didn‘t seem violently inclined at the moment.
“Well since I don’t think he’s a deformed gang member on PCP; yes, I guess I did notice.” Joyce ignored Buffy’s comment and finally responded to Xander‘s earlier one, her weapon still firmly in her grasp, ready to inflict more damage.
The terse moment was interrupted by a loud burst of hysterical laughter coming from behind Buffy. Spinning around, her green eyes widened as she took in the spectacle before her.
Her Watcher slammed back against the wall, his hand clamped over his mouth as if that alone could stop the giggles from spilling out of his mouth. When he slowly slid down the wall on legs that had obviously grown too weak to support him, Giles‘ laughter trailed off.
But then he took another look at Angel and his rumpled hair and the giggles took over as he weakly brought his hand up to point in the souled vampire’s direction.
“Earsch Mcgee…” he managed to get out, then looked at Joyce and attempted to look stern. “Jocysh, you’re supposed to rub der nosch in the messh when you schwat them.”
“Oh my GOD! Are you DRUNK, Giles?” Buffy accused, her fisted hands flying to her hips as she looked at him with disbelief. “What are you babbling about?”
“Housh-breaking the puppy,” Giles slurred, then looked around at the shattered table and mess that the two fighting vamps had made, then back at Angel’s dumbfounded expression and became lost to the conversation, tears rolling down his cheeks with the intensity of his laughter, and all that those around him could do was watch the display, unable to look away.
“Buffy,” Joyce interrupted, recovering first. ‘What is going on here? And please don‘t tell me he‘s a deformed tutoring gang member on PCP either.”
Buffy sighed, drawing her eyes away from the hiccupping watcher. “He’s my ex-boyfriend,” she finally mumbled, ignoring Spike‘s snort.
Expecting a huge backlash from that announcement and the revelation of more secrets withheld, Buffy was surprised when Joyce merely held up her hand and said, “I don’t even want to know” and walked back into the living room, stopping at the bar on the way.
Giles got himself together at the sound of bottles being clinked together and hauled himself to his feet, stumbling in the direction Joyce had taken. “Do believe I will join you,” he called after her.
Hank just shook his head and followed suit, more than willing to dodge the lecture that had been about to take place before this other…vampire fell into the house. He didn’t know the story but he now trusted Buffy explicitly and figured it was something that could wait for another time.
Buffy found herself watching as the adults in her life pounced on the alcohol, not acting in the least like they’d just had stuff of the majorally freaky unloaded on them.
It was suddenly clear to her; her life had entered the twilight zone. There was no other question or reasonable explanation. But then Buffy looked into Spike’s eyes and was once more gripped by the passion and intensity, the perfect CONNECTION she found lurking there and swiftly came to the conclusion that if this was the Twilight Zone, she was so never leaving.
Especially not when Spike walked forward to pluck the stake from her hand and tossed it away, tucking her against his side securely. Buffy didn’t even hear the gasps of shock from Xander and Willow at the easy familiarity, so captivated by the look of profound reverence on Spike’s face.
All for her.
Angel, on the other hand, began growling at the possessiveness with which Spike beheld Buffy, and even the other two interlopers in the room could practically feel the tension that poured off of the older vampire.
“Come on, pet,” Spike said softly as he encased her hand in his own, ignoring the growls coming from his elder.
“Where are we going?” Buffy asked without thinking.
The sardonic tip of Spike’s scarred brow was her response and Buffy flushed crimson. “Oh yeah.”
Xander stalked up to her, with nervous glances at Spike. “What do you mean ’oh yeah’?”
“Means none of your business, you stupid git,” Spike answered, his eyes narrowing.
“You can’t really think that we are going to let you go anywhere with him, do you?” Xander asked in disbelief. “Because that would be so very foolish of you.”
Xander felt a chill go through his body in response to the icy glare Buffy sent his way and a fit of desperation struck him. “Buffy?”
Dismissing her friend, Buffy looked into the living room where her mom sat with a drunken Giles in one chair and her ex husband in the other. “Mom, I’ll be back later, ok? I have my pager.”
Joyce’s head shot up to lock her eyes on the determined green of her daughter and vehement protestation immediately came the tip of her tongue. But the assessing look her daughter was giving her allowed her to take a step back.
“Just… don’t be too late.”
Buffy’s grateful answering smile almost brought tears to Joyce’s eyes, and while this new independent daughter of hers would take a while to get used to, Joyce was reassured that things would be ok.
Joyce watched as Spike led Buffy out of the house, trying desperately to put aside all preconceived notions out of her head and NOT think of anything she really didn‘t want to know.
“He’s ok, Joyce,” Hank announced, seeing the mental conflict taking place.
“Wha? Huh? You just LET her leave with that thing?” Xander stomped into the doorway and accused, looking like he’d just had his favorite toy taken away from him. “With a ‘see ya, buh bye, oh don’t break curfew‘?”
That did it for Joyce. Tossing her shoulders back, she announced, “Yes, Xander, I did.”
Angel’s loud brooding sigh resounded through the room and Giles looked around in confusion. “Did I misch stomaching?”
“Unbelievable,” Xander muttered, giving everyone a dark look before spinning on his heel and stomping out the front door.
He was just in time to see his dream car slide smoothly from the curb and through the drivers side window, a finger with chipped black nail polish waved a silent salute back at him.
“Bastard,” Xander grumbled, scuffing the ground with his shoe. A moment too slow on the uptake, he tried to flick Spike back off but with a flash of the brake lights, his dream car and his dream girl disappeared around the corner and Xander didn’t even want to think of where they were headed.
Because sometimes denial was just so much easier.
tbc..
New chapter SOON, I promise!
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