Chapter
13
Spike
yanked his head free from Anne’s firm grasp. Her calloused
fingers slid unwillingly from the firm grip she had on his
locks. Her lips were pulled away from the heaven that was
Spike’s mouth and she moaned at the loss of contact. Lost in
the fervour that was their first kiss, the scarred Slayer
didn’t notice the looks of shock and surprise that were vying
for prime position on his face.
He
licked his lips and stared down aghast at the forward little
miss whose eyes were still shut; her mouth was softened into a
pout. Spike stared down at his hands, the same ones that had
cupped Anne’s face as they had kissed. ‘Oh bugger.’ He
had kissed Anne; briefly the touch of her lips had been a
siren’s call to him and he had succumbed, wanting, no needing
something. But it wasn’t her pouting lips he wanted - they
hadn’t felt right.
Anne
had kissed him, her surrogate big brother. Spike tried not to
scream like Xander when someone snagged the last bearclaw out of
the donut box, or like Dawn when she spotted a spider in the
tub. He took a step backwards, stumbled over a gravestone and
went arse over tit.
“Bollocks,”
he muttered.
Everything
was so very wrong--the kiss. Christ, Anne had kissed him!
And what was worse, for a few brief seconds he had reciprocated
the embrace.
If
he had been a wee bit more indoctrinated in ‘Valley Girl’
speak he’d have shrieked eww and run screaming for the hills,
clutching his not so shiney virtue to his chest. As it was he
knew that Anne may project a tough girl image, but underneath
all the bluster, she was an eighteen-year-old girl in the throes
of a crush. He knew all about the cruelties of rejection.
Cecily had taught him a harsh lesson that had ended with
him impaled on a set of fangs. There was no way he would
consciously hurt the girl.
Then
again, tripping in his haste to get away - really not the best
way to couch his rejection in the gentlest of terms. Spike
sprang to his feet the next instant and glanced at Anne.
She was licking her lips as her eyes fluttered open. She
had an expression of utter bliss on her face that caused him to
swallow nervously.
Spike
straightened his duster and ran his long fingers through his
dishevelled hair, trying frantically to calm himself. He
desperately scrabbled for the Big Bag image to project and
hopefully put off the minx who had tried to polish his tonsils
with her tongue.
Something
had happened; something was different.
He
had never wanted Anne sexually. She was family, like Dawn. He
wanted to burst into tears at the horror of it all. But he knew
he couldn’t. If he
did, then Anne would be destroyed.
Spike
felt an ache deep within him.
It was fresh and worrying; he hadn’t felt it since Dru.
‘Anne
wasn’t the one - it was Buffy… Hang about…Buffy?’
The
resurrected slayer had barely registered on his radar when she
first returned, but slowly despite himself he had watched her.
Seeing her with Dawn—the sweetness shared between the two
sisters. Her compassion with her friends, despite everything
they had put her through. A Raising wasn’t something to be
taken lightly or recovered from swiftly, and yet Buffy had. For
that he had respected her, she was far stronger than most. It
was that strength that had piqued his interest—that and her
luminescent beauty. It had called to him and despite the pain he
had been living with for what seemed like an eternity, he’d
enjoyed watching her.
Spike
gazed down at Anne’s face with deep compassion. He knew what
it was like to care for someone and for the object of your
affection not to reciprocate. He had to be gentle, let her down
easily. He had to make her understand he cared for her but not
in that way, and yet at the same time, not let her know how
repulsed he was by her fumbled attempt at seduction. Anne was
too young and just wasn’t ‘the one’.
No,
there was someone else he wanted and he had no idea why or where
the feelings had come from. It was as if they had sprung
from his heart like Athena had from her father’s head, fully
formed. He felt
something for Buffy that he had never thought he would’ve ever
entertained.
She
was a Slayer for God’s sake, but since her return she had been
so un-Slayerlike, a veil of sadness cloaked her visage when she
looked at him, she was tentative…almost
apologetic around him, hurt almost and he had no idea why. He
had avoided her as if she had been a Black Maria – and then
suddenly in the last few hours he had realised why – he was
starting to feel something for her.
For
Buffy Anne Summers, Dawn’s big sister.
A slightly older carbon copy of the girl who just kissed
him with such hope and sweetness
Her
sorrow filled hazel eyes were all that filled his mind, the way
she watched his every move with a question lingering on her
gorgeous lips. A question he wouldn’t allow her to voice, for
something inside him deep, deep down wouldn’t allow it. Spike
had avoided her like the plague and her frustration at his
behaviour had not gone unnoticed.
Until recently, he hadn’t cared.
But
he felt something had changed within the last few hours, and it
freed him. There was lightness to his spirit that he had not
felt in a long while. There was nothing chaining his feelings
down, or muffling his senses anymore, and it felt great. For the
first time in weeks, Spike could feel everything and for once,
nothing hurt when he did. He could breathe again.
What
he was feeling, though, was starting to clarify in his mind and
it was tickling at the edges of his demon’s psyche, making it
twitch and rail against the anathema that his host was allowing
to bud in his un-beating heart.
They
were the wrong lips.
Spike
blinked and heaved a sigh.
It
was true.
They
were lovely lips, but not the ones he wanted pressed against his
in a feverous rapture of a kiss. They weren’t hers -
Buffy’s.
Spike’s
scarred brow shot upwards and nearly disappeared into his
hairline. He wanted
Buffy?
Yes,
he did! He wanted
Buffy to kiss and nibble at his lips, and hopefully more. Spike
licked his lips, and mentally reeled at the aftertaste of
lip-gloss left on them by Anne.
He
looked down at Anne who had, at some point during his
ruminations, opened her eyes and was smiling up at him, a sweet
hopeful image of teenage first love. Spike had to remind himself
that he was evil so that he would be able to nip this in the
bud, before it got too out of control.
He had let her fumbled flirtations with him slide in the
past.
He
was unwilling to hurt the usually stoic Slayer still finding her
way in her new life and world, not wanting to destroy what
little confidence she had despite her bravado masking the truth.
She was just a little girl, thrust into the supernatural world
without a safety net. He
had tried to be that net, but instead had positioned himself in
her regard to be her knight in shining armour.
Whose lips apparently needed a good polishing.
He
had secretly cheered as she had slowly cast off the Slayer guise
and allowed the teenage girl to come to the fore. But Spike was
now mentally slapping himself; she had done so because of him.
‘Bugger, Bollocks and a Bloody hell for good measure’
His
eyes flickered amber and he reached into his pocket, pulled out
his cigarettes and lit one.
Puffing away, Spike concentrated on the familiar burst of
warmth that heralded the first nicotine hit his body craved. The
taste of the cigarette erased the cherry sweet flavour of
Anne’s lip-gloss in seconds.
He sighed in relief.
“Spike?”
Anne fidgeted with the hem of her T-Shirt.
The kiss had been amazing - more than she had ever
dreamed. Spike’s lips, lips of Spike and they were so soft,
tender and full. She
eyed his mouth and wondered if she should kiss him again.
Then
her heart faltered at the look of consternation on Spike’s
face; this wasn’t the face of someone who had just enjoyed a
kiss with his girl. This was the face of a freaked out man.
“I
did it wrong, didn’t I? Not enough tongue, right?” Anne
whispered.
Humiliation
poured off her slight frame as her face turned a deep crimson;
her eyes darted to the left and right, avoiding the frozen
vampire standing in front of her. She had never kissed anyone
before and had never ever entertained the thought that she would
choose a vampire as her first kiss! Until she had been brought
over, Anne had fought and killed vampires nightly.
Not made friends with them, trained with them or fallen
in love with them.
But
Spike was hard to resist, with his muscled body, the hair, the
bad boy image—which was such a lie.
He was as soft as Miracle Whip and then the eyes…the
brightest blue she had ever seen. They twinkled in merriment at
her all the time and they were perfect. All of him was perfect
and now she had messed it all up by not being able to kiss
properly.
The
magazines she had read and all the shows she had watched had
been no use. She should’ve known Spike had loads of experience
with the kissing and her fumbled attempt was bound to be so lame
he’d be embarrassed for her.
“We
could try again?” Anne’s voice wobbled slightly in shock at
the words that had escaped from her mouth and she took a hopeful
step forward towards her vampire.
Spike
was unable to stop himself.
He leapt backwards as if he had been scalded. ‘God, it
was as if Dawn was trying to snog his face off.’
Anne
paused and a chill ran down her spine as realisation dawned.
He didn’t want to kiss her. Her hands flew to her lips
the scar; she knew that it was ugly and off-putting. ’Oh my
God, it was the scar…it had to be…it makes me ugly…’ was
all Anne could think. Never before had she hated the damage to
her mouth. Until
now, it had been her badge of pride. But now Anne hated it; it
was a turn off for Spike.
Her
eyes prickled; it was a sensation she was not used to. Anne
hadn’t cried since the night her Mom had been drained in front
of her. Then the dam broke-- great big fat tears poured down her
scarlet cheeks and her mouth opened with a sob. It wasn’t a
pretty feminine weep, it was a full on snot-filled cry. Anne’s
skinny shoulders shook as her hands covered her face and she
wailed.
Spike
closed his eyes and threw away the half smoked fag with a
whimper. He hated when girls cried these days.
Once upon a time he would have revelled in the tears of a
young girl, and now he was like any other male confronted with a
woman crying. He
panicked.
“So...so...sorry…I…I…sor…sorry,”
Anne hiccupped through her tears. It felt weird to cry after so
long, but it also felt so good to let it all out.
Spike
edged away and then rocked on his heels, torn between panicked
flight and also wanting to stop her tears. He thrust his hands
in his duster pockets and gazed compassionately at the
blubbering mess—his would-be suitor of moments ago. He ached
to comfort Anne, but was hesitant to do so as he didn’t want
her to misconstrue his attempts.
“Don’t
cry, pet. S’not
good for you.” Spike grimaced at his pathetic attempt at
comfort. When Dru
had thrown a wobbler, he had been adept at calming her in
moments. Then again,
he doubted Anne would appreciate a pretty girl in a nice dress
to eat. Spike shook his head of the naughty images that filtered
through it and focused on the moment and Anne. Not pervy blood
soaked thoughts that would have him staked out on an anthill
slathered in honey and waiting for sunrise.
“I…ca…can’t
stop,” Anne wailed.
Spike
crept cautiously forward; his hands reached over and hovered
over her frail shoulders and then settled for a brief moment.
Anne didn’t respond to the butterfly soft touch, so he sighed
and dropped his hands heavily on her shoulders.
“That’s
enough, Pet. No more tears; can’t cope with bints weeping.
Makes me feel like an arse,” Spike pleaded hopefully.
He wasn’t used to Anne being so emotional. Usually she
was all business on patrol and when it was the two of them at
home, or when Dawn was around, she was more relaxed-- less
guarded. Now he had made her cry and also doubt herself, both of
which were not good for a Slayer and a friend.
“I’m
trying.” Anne sniffled and gazed up with watery tear-filled
eyes. She froze; there was something different about Spike,
something in his eyes. It was all she needed to see to make her
realise once and for all; Spike was a friend, nothing else.
“Oh…”
she sighed.
Spike
cocked his head in confusion at the sudden change in the weepy
girl. The hazel red-rimmed eyes had widened in understanding,
and the trembling of her lips had stilled in an instant.
“What?”
An
age-old wisdom that most women innately have, pushed to the fore
in Anne and she realised that Spike was not the one for her. No
matter how much she wanted it to be her, it wasn’t.
There was someone else in his heart.
Sure it hurt, but then again, when had it not? She could
be the grown up here, if Spike would let her.
“I’m
sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” Anne pointed to his
lips, still full and pouty and asking for a nibble. But she
ignored them, concentrating on salvaging their friendship.
She couldn’t survive if they weren’t friends anymore.
Spike
sighed with relief. She
was making it easy. For
once a woman in his life was making it easy for him. He wondered
if the planet had shifted off its axis. He rubbed the back of
his head and smiled tentatively, unsure as to how to progress
without her blubbering all over him. “It’s okay. I guess you
were testing a theory?” He waited a beat and then relief
flooded his body as Anne took him up on his easy out.
“Yeah,”
she smiled briefly. “Wanted to know what it’d feel like
kissing a vamp.” Anne’s voice shook slightly as she lied
through her teeth. She decided to brazen it out as best she
could after her meltdown, and she hoped that Spike would let
her. She didn’t want to lose him as her slay buddy and friend.
“Right.”
Spike glanced over her shoulder and sniffed the air; someone
familiar had been around recently, but the scent was faded and
hard to pinpoint. He looked back down at Anne with a gentle
smile. “No more tears or surprise snog attacks?”
Anne
nodded. “Who is it you want?”
Spike
twitched. He felt
like he had been hit on the back of the head with a two by four.
“Buffy?
Right?” Anne guessed shrewdly. “That’s why you’re not
interested in me in a kissy way?”
Spike
twitched again. “Um, no luv.
Sorry. You and Dawn are my best mates and it’s not
right snogging you. It’s
like kissing my sister—” He skirted the Buffy question,
hoping that Anne would let it drop.
Whatever he was feeling for the older Slayer was new and
fresh; he had no idea what it was or where it would lead.
Anne,
however, was not going to let him avoid the subject. “Buffy,
Right?” she repeated.
Spike
growled and began to pace back and forth, muttering under his
breath about why the Powers plagued him with all the bossy women
of this dimension.
Anne
crossed her arms over her chest, all her embarrassment over the
‘kiss’ gone as she watched Spike bitch and moan about women
and life in general. ‘This was the snarky sarcastic vamp she
had fallen for?’
She
put her fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly to get his
attention.
Spike
froze mid step and turned his head to look at her.
“Well?”
Anne demanded.
Spike’s
entire body slumped as he gave in to the inevitable and voiced
his recent realisation. “Yeah, it’s Buffy—”
Anne
grit her teeth; she could be the big girl here. “Right, so now
what?”
“We
go home and never talk about anything that happened tonight?”
Spike asked hopefully. He
knew that was a pipe dream, but it was worth a try.
“Riiiight.”
Anne rolled her eyes. “We are going home, but you are sooo
gonna talk about it!” she exclaimed.
“You
sound like Dawn.” Spike eyed her carefully, searching for
signs of tears and found nothing but a determined stare
returning his questioning looks.
“Well,
I guess I would. So,
you and Buffy?” Anne flipped her long braid over her shoulder
and braced herself for Spike to start waxing lyrical over the
senior slayer. She was raw inside but determined to be the grown
up and listen to Spike-- and be his friend.
It was better to be his friend than nothing at all.
“I…don’t
know…there’s something there, but I don’t get it,” Spike
sighed.
“Well,
since you’ve barely even acknowledged her presence since
Willow and the others brought her back, neither do I. When did
it all change?” Anne asked.
“Dunno.
A few hours ago? Just
realised that thinking about her didn’t hurt and that there
was something else to it,” Spike added.
Anne
nodded, but didn’t say anything.
She was trying to be big about it but she really didn’t
need any salt rubbed into the Spike-shaped wound on her heart.
Spike
peeked over at his silent companion. “No hard feelings, right?
Still mates, Anne?” He fumbled with the right words and
internally winced at the less than eloquent attempt at building
bridges with Anne.
She
sighed and nodded. “Still friends, Spike…still friends…”
********
Willow
dumped Amy on a bus bench, and whispered a spell of invisibility
over her supine friend. She had heard Vamp Willow moving up the
alley and determined to go find and dust her once and for all.
Without a backward glance at the now invisible Amy, Willow
staggered up the alley to see her leather clad and wounded alter
ego disappear into a huge metal double door. A smear of blood
was the only hint of her passage.
Taking
a deep breath, Willow tiptoed up to the smear and quickly dabbed
her grubby shirtsleeve in the rapidly drying crimson fluid. She
had something personal of the vampire’s to use to track now.
Glancing around, Willow quickly moved to the pile of boxes that
were under one of the grimy factory windows. She clambered up,
trying to make as little noise as possible; fatigue was pulling
at her limbs.
Willow
shuffled forward to the windowpane and wiped a small section
clean with her shaking fingers. This was the biggest break in
their efforts of finding the lair. Ignoring the tremors that
wracked her entire body, she peered into the factory and the
scene that greeted her horrified eyes made her squeak and back
away.
It
was too much…
It
was disgusting….
********
Anne
and Spike walked up the pathway to the front door unaware of
Willow frantically dragging Amy along behind them.
Spike
could sense the others all gathered in the front room watching
TV. Swinging the door open, he gestured for Anne to precede him.
She nodded her thanks. Their easy companionship was
slowly returning and she was secretly relieved.
Buffy
glared up from her perch on the sofa at the two of them; she
straightened and opened her mouth to launch an attack on Anne
when Willow staggered in, dropping Amy’s limp form on the
Welcome mat.
“Master!”
Willow screamed. Her usually green eyes were pitch black and her
flame red hair was shot through with black streaks.
Anne
hunkered down next to Amy and checked her pulse.
Buffy
leapt to her feet and rushed to Willow.
She pulled her grimy bloodstained friend into the sitting
room and helped her sit down. Willow grasped her hands, sparks
of magic trickling harmlessly from her fingertips. “Buffy,
help me, please, make it stop!”
Tara
pulled Dawn away from Willow; she could smell magic all over her
Willow, and was distraught. She placed the teen between her and
the shuddering redhead. She couldn’t say a word; seeing Willow
in this state was the realisation of her nightmares.
Anya
peered at Willow, then glanced up at Spike, a look of
understanding flashed between the two of them.
‘’Rack’ she mouthed at him. Spike’s mouth
tightened with anger and he nodded briefly, turning his
attention to Willow. He growled.
“What
the effing hell have you gotten yourself into now, Red? You reek
of dirty magicks-- it’s disgusting.” Spike shifted slightly
to stand in-between Tara and Willow, a second buffer for Dawn.
Xander
walked into the room from the kitchen carrying snacks and
stumbled to a halt at the sight of his oldest female-shaped
friend currently going for the Seattle grunge look with a dash
of Elvira added into the mix. “Willow?”
Willow
gazed up at Xander, latching onto his familiar presence.
“Master, factory and ewww…”
With
that, Willow passed out cold but carrying the not-so-pleasant
mental image of her Vampiric counterpart feeding off the bat
faced Master of the Aurelian line, while he fed
his cock into Andrew’s eager mouth, of all people.
It
was an image that, if shared, would have knocked them all out
cold. They didn’t
know how lucky they were that Willow took the easy way out
before sharing.
No idea at all.
tbc...