Banner by Karyn!
Full Circle
Part Two
A few months later...
“Uhh, Spike, is Angel crying?” Andrew asked with a frown.
“No!” Spike looked doubtful. Angel’s remark about the Immortal eating cookies had brought a surge of gorge to his throat that no vampire should be forced to suffer. “Well, not yet.”
Andrew cautiously approached the dark-haired vampire. “Easy there, big fella,” he murmured, patting Angel’s broad shoulder. “The point is, she's moving on. You guys do the same, and you might catch her one day. One of you, anyway.”
Spike was startled when Andrew made a strange face at him behind Angel’s back. What was the little git up to? Andrew made the face again and gestured with his head towards the other room.
“But you keep running in place, you're gonna find she's long gone. Buffy loves both of you, but she's gotta live her life. People change.”
All through this little commentary, Andrew kept making with the constipated faces in an obvious attempt to convey a point that Spike was too distraught to decipher. All he wanted to do was get Peaches back on the bloody plane and get back to LA where he could crawl into a bottle and forget all about a certain petite blonde and her faithless ways.
With a frustrated sigh, Andrew ran a hand over his carefully coiffed hair and straightened his jacket. “You guys should try it sometime—”
Impatient tapping on the door interrupted him. He hurried to answer, gushing in fluent Italian at the two incredibly beautiful women that stood there preening for him. Looking back to the two vampires, he made an attempt to hide his glee behind a mature and sophisticated façade. “Caio!”
After the door closed, Spike turned to Angel. “Maybe it’s time we…” His voice trailed off dejectedly, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he finally admitted to himself that the dream was gone.
“Yeah.” Angel nodded and led the way to the door.
A tiny, dark-eyed waif with a mop of black curls barred the way, an impish smile curving her full red mouth. She was a pretty little thing. Spike stifled a snort. Italian birds must not be too choosey about their men if Andrew saw this much action.
“Sorry, luv. If you’re lookin’ for Andrew he just left with…” His voice trailed off when the little sprite hefted a lethal looking gun and pointed it at the both of them. “Okay, maybe not lookin’ for Andrew…”
“Trancs,” Angel had time to mutter before she squeezed the trigger twice--once for him and once for the blonde menace behind him. In seconds, both vampires fell in a graceful heap of unconsciousness.
Buffy walked up behind the girl and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Great job, Allesandra!” she praised. “Bring in the others, now.”
At Allesandra’s shrill whistle, slayers began popping up out of the shrubbery and from behind buildings and ran forward to gather around their leader.
Kneeling by Angel’s side, Buffy ran a gentle hand over his wide forehead. “Goodbye, Angel,” she murmured. Standing, she gestured towards his motionless form. “This one goes to the air field. Just ask for Wolfram and Hart’s hanger. And make it fast; it’ll be dawn soon.”
She watched impassively as the larger vamp was carted off and stuffed into a black van before turning back to the rest. She stared down at Spike’s unconscious face. Even in repose he looked drawn and tired. Quashing a surge of pity, she waved her hand, motioning for the remaining slayers to pick him up.
“Down the stairs to the basement, ladies. And for God’s sake, don’t hit his head on any doorways!” she instructed. The same serpentine smile that had made Andrew shake in his shoes earlier was back in full force. “Trust me, he’s gonna need all his wits about him when he wakes up.”
~@~@~
Spike slowly became aware of several things as he struggled to regain consciousness. One was the set of manacles that were clamped around his wrists and ankles, leaving him to dangle with his toes barely brushing the floor. The other was the mouthwatering scent of slayer that wafted to his sensitive nose.
Wafted wasn’t the word for it. Assaulted was more like it. As in the scent of many, many slayers, with one unique signature rising above the rest.
Buffy.
He opened his eyes slowly, groaning when confronted with an insanely bright smile that brought back discomfiting images of the Buffybot.
“There he is. Hi, honey! I’m home!” she offered perkily.
“Bloody hell.”
She laughed; a gently mocking sound, and came to stand in front of him. She stared at him, her eyes unreadable and her head tilted to one side as she considered him.
“Beginning to think you’d sleep the night away,” she commented softly.
Spike pulled experimentally on his bonds, not caring for the feeling of déjà vu this scene was dredging up. “Slayer?”
Buffy held up one beautifully manicured finger. “Hold that thought, okay?” She turned to the wall of slayers standing behind her. “Alright girls, you all wanted to meet William the Bloody, but show-n-tell is over. Need a little alone time with my fella, here. I appreciate your help, especially you, Alessandra.”
They filed out, some casting longing looks over their shoulders while others caressed the stakes they held in a way that made Spike more than a little nervous. Alessandra was the last one out. The petite brunette rattled off something in Italian to Buffy, winking at Spike and cheekily blowing him a kiss when he scowled at her.
“Yeah? You can shove that dart right up your little…”
“Spike!” Buffy clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle the rest of his insult.
He promptly nipped the soft flesh of her palm, giving it a quick lick before she could snatch her hand back. She stifled her initial reaction to his little bite, but the look in her eyes promised retribution once the formalities were out of the way.
“Alone at last. And whatever shall I do with you? Gotta say, you look good for someone who’s supposed to be Hellmouth fodder.”
Spike sighed and rolled his head on his shoulders, clearly more agitated than he was letting on. “S’pose Andrew told you, then?”
“Not without a great deal of painful torture,” she quipped. His incredulous look had her casting her eyes at the ceiling. “Okay, I’m lying about the torture. He couldn’t squeal loud enough when I busted him out. He taped you on the sly when you were in the hospital in LA and forgot the tape in my room.”
“So, the secret’s out. Question is, why are you here and not out dancing the night away with your new sweetie-bear?” he asked, affecting a bored tone. No way was he going to let on how much that hurt. Trying to be the better man- err, vamp- was a bitch sometimes.
Buffy took a look at their surroundings and then came back to him, the teeniest of smiles quirking her lips.
“Bring back any fond memories for you?” She crossed her arms and began to pace in front of him, darting flirtatious glances over her shoulder. “Seems like so many of our better moments involve the use of restraints for one or both of us. Either that or some piece of really tacky jewelry.”
The illusion she had carefully recreated was suddenly and painfully clear to him. His next words unconsciously mirrored her own from so many years ago. “What’s going on?”
She whirled to face him. “Simple. I’m gonna prove something.” She moved in close, nearly overwhelming him with her scent as she gazed up at him with limpid hazel eyes.
“I love you. I…love you. You're all I think about. Dream about. You're in my gut... my throat... I'm drowning in you, Spike, I'm drowning in you.”
She leaned into him, her hands braced against his chest as she brought her lips to within a breath of his and continued. “Just give me something... a crumb... a barest smidgen...” Spike held himself tense as her mouth brushed his at each pause. “Tell me... maybe, someday, there's a chance.”
Spike blinked. Now he knew it for certain. Girl had gone completely carrot-top. Which, come to think of it, could explain her little Immortal dalliance. Still, he couldn't help but be impressed. He hadn't thought she'd been listening back then, what with her being just a little too eager to put his balls in a sling and fling 'em to the other side of the universe.
“If we play this by the script, luv, this is the part where I tell you that the only chance you ever had with me was when I was unconscious.” Spike hissed as the small hand drifting over his flat belly, reached his crotch and gave his obvious arousal a firm squeeze. “’Course we both know that would be a bloody lie,” he managed to grit out.
Buffy laughed softly, the sweet warmth of her breath puffing tantalizingly across his face. With one last lingering caress, her hand left his aching erection and joined the other in skimming back up his chest and out along his outstretched arms.
There was a burst of warmth when she linked the fingers of her left hand with his right. He half expected to look at their joined hands and see flames. There were none, of course, but the allusion was there none the less.
A soundless gasp escaped him as she stepped closer, molding her body to his from chest to groin. She smiled at his reaction, the heat of her body like a brand through the thin cotton of their t-shirts.
“Where’s… What’ve you done with Peaches?” he asked, desperate for some kind of distraction from his traitorous body’s response to her slight weight resting against him.
Buffy sighed deeply, making sure that the diamond-hard points of her nipples brushed his chest.
“I must be losing my touch if you can think of Angel at a time like this,” she snapped with mock irritation.
He stared at her and gave a snort of disbelief. “Have you lost all sensation to your lower parts, you crazy bint?” He emphasized his point with a demanding thrust of his hips. Thank God he’d worn his button-fly’s this trip, else he’d have a permanent imprint of a zipper on his dick. Talk about painful.
She grinned impishly and met his thrust with her own. It was almost time to up the tension factor for the manacled vampire.
“Angel is perfectly safe. Well, as safe as he can be with Allesandra escorting him back to sunny California. She’s quite the swooning fan-girl where he’s concerned.”
“Thought you were the president of that particular fan club, pet.” He cringed at his sarcasm. Oh yeah, Spike. Open mouth and insert ugly black boot.
Instead of the anticipated pop in the chops, she stunned him further by giggling and tossing back her hair in a heartbreakingly familiar gesture. God, she was so utterly gorgeous to him when she was like this, even more so because she was seldom this carefree with him. He appreciated it all the more when she was.
“I haven’t been a member for a long time now, let alone the president. Now, do you really want to talk about Angel? I know I don’t.” Another insistent nudge of her pelvis and her lips whispering across his throat. A nip and a nibble and then her teeth tugging at his earlobe.
Spike moaned softly and tugged at their still joined hands. “Turn me loose, sweetheart.”
“Mmm, I think not. Not yet,” she murmured. Giving his lobe one last flick of her tongue, she stepped back and looked at him thoughtfully. “No, you haven’t been punished nearly enough.”
“Punished?” His voice came out as a decidedly unmanly squeak. He cleared his throat before continuing. “Punished for what?”
“Oh, several things,” Buffy said airily. “Let’s start with your asinine excuses for not letting me know you were back among the living. Or not living in your case.”
“Thought they were pretty valid at the time, luv,” he muttered uneasily, refusing to meet those sparkling hazel eyes.
“And yet, here you are. Why is that, Spike?” One dainty sandaled foot tapped the concrete floor impatiently. “I expect the whole skulking in the shadows and spying on me bit from Angel, but you’ve always been pretty up front in your stalking.”
“Wasn’t stalkin’,” he pouted.
“You so were!” Buffy insisted. “How else would you know about…what did you call him? My ‘new sweetie-bear’?” Her upper lip curled delicately in distaste. “I know you think I’m totally clueless where men are concerned, but please give me a little credit for taste.”
“Taste?” Spike tried to hold it in. He really did, but as usual his traitorous tongue ran away with his good sense. “Well, let’s see… There’s Peaches, and then your little rebound fling with Joe-College boy.”
“Do you want a split lip?” she threatened.
“And don’t even get me started on Captain Cardboard,” he couldn’t help but add. Catching the heat in her pointed glare, he wisely clamped his teeth down on his bottom lip and shut up.
Buffy pressed her hands together in a prayerful pose, as if she were begging for patience, and brought her fingertips up to rest thoughtfully against her chin. “Spike?”
“What?” His splayed arms were aching almost as badly as his engorged cock. All that pacing and twirling she was doing had her scent floating all around him; the lemony tang of her arousal mixed with her powdery perfume had him practically drooling for a taste of her. Damn his heightened senses!
“Don’t try to distract me by dragging them into this,” she chided. “This is between you and me, and the fact that just like every other male in my life you made a decision ‘for my own good’.”
Being compared to those other wankers for the umpteenth time had him instantly pissed. He gritted his teeth, the muscles in his jaw working spastically as he fought with his frayed temper.
“So, once again, it’s all about Buffy,” he snarled, rolling his eyes with dramatic flare. “Kick up a fuss about your men making decisions for you, but roll over like a whipped bitch when your little friends snap the whip. Nothing ever changes with you, does it?”
He ignored her wide eyes and stricken expression and continued his rant. “Did you ever, for once in your life think that it might not be for your own good, but for mine? That it might be an act of self-bloody-preservation? Ahh, I can see by your reaction that the thought never crossed your narrow little mind, did it, Slayer?”
TBC~
|
