Past Perfect

by SpikesKat

The next time he woke, he was lying on something soft.  A bed, perhaps?  He opened his eyes and squinted at the sunlight filtering in through the open curtains.  

“Bloody ‘ell,” he croaked out, rolling over as fast as his body could and falling out of bed and onto the carpeted floor…hiding there in the shadows. 

Heavy footsteps sounded from another room, and then the door was flung open. 

“Spike?  What the hell?”  Angel stood just inside his bedroom, staring at the vacant bed and disheveled bed sheets.  He stepped further in the room and frowned; Spike was huddled on the floor, naked body quivering as he struggled to remain hidden from the sun.  When he lifted wide, terrified eyes in his direction, Angel could have kicked himself for not thinking to pull the shades.  His only excuse was that he’d gotten used to the sun shining into his bedroom, thanks to the special glass that made up the windowed exterior of the law offices, and hadn’t given a thought to the younger vamps reaction to it upon waking. 

“Sire? ‘m sorry…whatever it was… won’t do it again,” Spike whimpered, still hiding on all fours. 

Angel frowned at the other’s subservient tone, and he watched as Spike seemed to shrink even further in on himself.  Almost as if… 

“Spike?” 

Nothing.  Not even a flicker of recognition at the moniker.  He sighed heavily, glancing skyward.  Why him?  Nothing like tempting his inner Angelus with the way his grandchilde used to be.  Young and impressionable, eager to do anything Angelus had ever asked.  He could practically feel his unsouled self clawing at his insides, and knew there was no way that Spike would be able to remain here like this. 

He needed reinforcements.  As much as he hated to see the younger vamp with his first love, he needed his snarky, hands-off attitude grandchilde back worse.  

The consequences would be too great otherwise. 

“William, get off the floor and on the bed.” 

Wild, fearful eyes glance from him to the windows and he had to practically bite his tongue to keep from demanding, “Now, boy!”  Instead, he moved a bit closer, speaking softly.  Telling Spike that the windows were treated and that the bright light was no danger to him.  He even demonstrated the fact, by sitting on the bed, directly on top of one of the patches. 

Angel forced himself not to react as Spike shifted to his knees, moving closer to him.  His hand reached out and caressed Angel’s cheek and the sunlight striking it, marveling at the phenomena, and again Angel remained motionless under the other’s explorative touch. 

Oh, yeah.  He needed Buffy here.  Bad. 

“See?  Can’t hurt you,” Angel croaked.  He coughed, clearing his voice and congratulated himself when his voice didn’t crack with his next command. “Get back in bed, Will.  You’ve been…away for a while and need to recover your strength.  I’ll get you some blood.” 

William nodded and settled himself beneath the covers, still marveling over the fact that the sun was having no adverse affects, turning his palms back and forth as his head rested upon the pillows stacked against the headboard.  

Angel was nearly to his bedroom door when Spike’s voice rang out in the quiet. 

“Angelus, where are we?” 

“My place.”  His voice was abrupt, his back to the other; he was desperate to put some distance between himself and the other vamp.  Then a thought occurred to him and he turned around.  “You’re not to leave this room.”  He made his voice intentionally harsh, but he needed Spike to obey him in this.  He’d rather not find out about Spike’s soul, or lack thereof, by the younger vamp snacking on his employees. 

“I’ll be back in a minute.” 

Then Angel was gone, fleeing out of his bedroom and towards the refrigerator that held his blood.  He poured himself a glass and gulped down the contents, praying that would help him appease the demon that was whispering in his ear.  Telling him what fun could be had remolding Spike in his image.  Instead, the blood only inflamed the voices in his head. 

Whispering about the fun the pair had had.  Urging him back into the room to start anew.  He shuddered and eyed the glass with disgust, throwing the empty container in the sink. 

The Senior Partners.  They were doing this.  Trying to bring Angelus back.  

He had to get out of there. 

His office! 

He’d escape to his office after giving Spike some blood.  Then he’d call the Slayer.  Buffy would come.  Spike was in her heart, after all… as much as the idea sickened him.  But, he needed the buffer she’d provide.  And, maybe she could help Spike to remember. 

Oh, god, he hoped she’d be able to help Spike remember. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Buffy woke to hear Giles speaking in hushed tones.  She knew the two of them were alone in his flat, so she figured he was on the phone.  

She sat up slowly, oddly refreshed after her “nap.”  Aside from the dream she’d had a first, her sleep was untroubled, and for the first time in a long while, she felt alive.  Flinging the afghan off her body, she gained her feet and hurried to the bathroom.  After making use of the toilet, she stood in front of the sink and washed her hands.  She ignored the mirror, not wanting to be reminded of how awful she looked.  The weight she could ill-afford to lose making her look older than her years.  

The Slayer was almost to the door when she remembered.  Her fingers lifted of their own accord to ghost over skin that would confirm her dream.  Yet, when they encountered the raised scars, her eyes grew wide, and she practically flew back to the mirror to examine the marks. 

She pulled her shirt up and over her head, and sure enough, the skin on her neck was puckered, indicative of a recent bite.  Her fingers pushed and prodded every minute detail of the marks, and she gasped softly as tiny tremors rushed through her body. 

It hadn’t been a dream.  Somehow, some way, she had been in that alley with Spike.  Only, she wasn’t sure about the when.  If it had really happened when it was supposed to, the marks should have been old and faded, rather than fresh, the skin on her neck still swollen. 

Buffy turned away from the mirror, a soft smile on her face.  Though Spike was still gone, she was oddly comforted by the bite marks.  And that she’d been able to tell him again that she loved him. 

She opened the bathroom door and nearly collided with Giles standing on the other side.  His stoic features made her wonder what apocalypse could be happening now to elicit such a grim look, before she tamped down the sarcastic thought. 

“What is it?” she asked, injected a bit of concern into her voice. 

“Buffy… I’m not quite sure how to say this—” 

“Then just say it.  Wait!  Don’t tell me.  Another apocalypse, right?” 

“Erm, not exactly…” he stalled.  Why had he not had Angel explain to Buffy about Spike’s return? 

“Well, what is it?”  Buffy stood there, arms folded across her chest. 

“I-It’s…well…it’s Spike,” he rushed out.  “He’s…he’s apparently come back from Hell.” 

Buffy felt like she’d been kicked in the gut, but in an oddly good way.  She soon recovered and shoved her way past Giles, hurrying towards the room she was using.  Once inside, she went straight to her closet, pulling out two duffle bags.  One empty, which she used to start shoving jeans, blouses, and some lingerie inside.  The other one was Spike’s; it was the bag he’d packed – one they’d all packed on that fateful day.  A bag, just in case… 

“Buffy, I feel I should warn you…”  Giles stood in the doorway to her bedroom, hesitant on how to continue. 

“I’m going, Giles.  You can’t stop me.”  Buffy didn’t bother to look up, just stuffed articles of clothing into her bag until it was full.  Then she began hunting for her passport and other identification.  Not that she had any idea where she was going yet, but that was incidental; she’d make Giles tell her. 

“I…that is… Buffy I’m not trying to prevent you from going to Spike.  Only warn you.” 

“Not the evil vampire routine.”  She stood up, her eyes boring into those of her watcher’s.  “I told you… he has a soul.” 

“That may not be the case anymore.”  

That comment brought her up short.  

She watched as he took off his glasses and snagged his handkerchief, setting to cleaning the lenses.  Knowing that he often used the task to stall.  

“Doesn’t matter.”  And as she said it, she realized that it didn’t.  “He loved me… even before the soul.  If he doesn’t have one now…”  She shook her head.  “No.  I’m going.” 

“That’s what I told Angel,” he said finally. 

“Angel?  What does he have to do with anything?” 

“Buffy, Spike recorporealized in Angel’s new office.  Spike’s with him in LA.” 

“Can you book me a flight to LA?” 

“No.”  He shook his head, holding up his hand when his Slayer was about to object.  “Angel’s sending his private jet.  It’ll cut down on the time.” 

“Wow,” Buffy murmured.  “Guess he’s making good use of the evil law firm’s resources.”  

“Just be careful.  Alright?  With Spike… and with Angel.” 

“I will.  You’ll let the others know I’ve gone?” 

“Yes.”  He smiled.  “Come on.  Let’s get you to the airport.” 

Buffy smiled back.  The first true smile since before Spike had died. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Buffy fingered the armrests nervously.  She was going to be on the ground in a matter of minutes, the jet now on its final approach into LAX.  The entire flight across the Atlantic, she’d paced the small confines of the Lear jet, her mind going over the dream that was not a dream, and the fact that Spike was back, and apparently without any memory of her.  While they’d waited for her plane to land, Giles had passed on the information Angel had shared.   That Spike viewed Angel as his sire and had no recollection of any of the events that had transpired recently.  It was like Spike was newly turned. 

The only thing keeping the younger vamp in check was his desire to please his sire. 

‘It doesn’t matter,’ she told herself firmly.  ‘I’ll make him remember me.’ 

The tires squealed as the jet touched down and decelerated, jarring Buffy to awareness.  She turned her head towards the small windows and looked outside.  The darkened sky made it difficult to see anything. 

The pilot came over the loudspeaker then, informing her that a car was waiting in their hangar to take her to Wolfram & Hart.  That it would just be a few minutes until they reached it and to remain seated with her seatbelt securely fastened until the plane came to a complete stop.  Buffy just rolled her eyes. 

Once seated in the back seat of the limousine that had been waiting for her arrival, she allowed herself to take in her surroundings.  The driver had told her it was just a ten minute drive from the airport to the law offices before shutting the window divider, giving her some privacy.  The city hadn’t changed much since she left, not that she’d paid particular attention in the aftermath of Sunnydale.  Demons still roamed at night, looking for a meal, for a human or other creature caught out alone and unaware.  And there was still an abundance of them. 

‘Not my problem.  Plenty of slayers to see to that now,’ she thought. 

A few minutes later, the car started its long, winding climb up a solitary street.  At the top, it widened a bit near the front entrance.  This, the driver passed by, headed straight to the underground parking garage.  

The limousine finally pulled to a halt in front of a group of elevators, and Buffy climbed out before the driver could open her door.  She’d been on edge the moment the car had driven onto the lot, almost as if she could feel the evil surrounding this place, and didn’t want to be caught off guard.  The driver just walked past her and opened the trunk, reaching down to retrieve her two bags.  Saying nothing, he turned and headed towards the elevators, stopping before the one that needed a key to operate.  This, he extracted from his pants pocket after setting the bags on the ground. 

“Lift’ll take you straight to the top, Ms. Summers.  Mr. Angel is expecting you,” he told her politely. 

“Er… thanks.”  She grabbed her bags and stepped inside the elevator.  

~*~ 

When the doors opened onto the executive lobby, Buffy forced herself not to recoil from all the vibes she was getting from the people milling about. 

“Buffy… hey!” 

The exuberant, girlish voice drew her attention away from the others, and the Slayer turned to see Harmony waving excitedly from behind a desk.  ‘Harmony works here?  Angel, what the hell have you gotten yourself into?’ 

Another door opened and the object of her thoughts stood looking uncertain as to his welcome.  

“Hey.”  His mouth quirked in a half smile. 

“Hey yourself.”  Yeah… awkward much? 

“Why don’t you come in?  Here, let me help you with those.”  Angel started forward and grasped one of the bags held in her slim hands.  “How was your flight?” 

“Fast.” 

“That’s Wolfram & Hart for you.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Uh…Yeah.” 

The door closed behind Angel’s last comment, sealing the two alone inside his private office. 

“Where’s Spike?” Buffy demanded now that they were alone. 

“Look, Buffy, I’m not sure that Giles told you—” 

“Giles told me everything, now take me to Spike.” 

He sighed dramatically, and Buffy wondered if the action had always been annoying or if it was a new thing, say… maybe since her ex-lover had taken over an evil law firm. 

“This way.”  He gestured with his free hand towards the private elevator at the back of his office.  Buffy started forward, moving in the direction he’d indicated, leaving Angel to fall into step behind her.  When they reached the doors, Angel pulled out his key card and activated the elevator.  The doors swung open and the pair stepped inside, neither looking at the other, nor speaking. 

The bell dinged, signaling their desired floor, and Buffy was never so grateful to be released from the tiny box that bore the tension between the two.  She waited while Angel moved off, then followed behind, weaving through the dining room and living room on his way towards the closed door, to what she could only assume was Angel’s bedroom.  His hand closed over the knob and Buffy couldn’t prevent the denial that burst from her lips. 

“No!” 

He paused, his face a mask of confusion as he turned back to her. 

“I’ll go…alone.” 

“Buffy, I don’t think—” 

“I said… I’ll go alone.  Angel… just leave.”  Seeing his hurt expression, she added as an afterthought, “Please?” 

Angel stiffened to his full height, towering over her, then turned on his heel and abruptly left the room.  The slamming of the door caused her to cringe, but didn’t sway her in the least.  Still carrying the bag of Spike’s things, she reached out with the other and opened the bedroom door.  She stepped inside quickly and shut it behind her before she lost her nerve. 

Buffy watched as he lifted his head at the noise, and she couldn’t help the tears that filled her eyes at seeing him alive…well, not so much alive as undusted. 

“Well, hello, luv,” he drawled out, setting the book he’d been reading aside and eyeing his latest meal intently.  “Aren’t you a lovely treat.” 

She stood unmoving as he swung the covers aside and climbed from the bed, completely comfortable in his nudity.  Staring at him, the way his muscles bunched and flexed as he prowled his way closer to her, she couldn’t help the flood of desire stealing itself through her limbs.  

He stopped suddenly, inhaling deeply, and she recalled his delicate sense of smell. 

“Oh, you are a tasty morsel,” he murmured. 

In the blink of an eye, he moved, pinning the Slayer up against the door as he leaned against her. 

“Not sure what ‘ve done to deserve this, but I’ll have t’ remember t’ thank my sire.”  His head dipped and blunt teeth nibbled their way down the girl’s neck, and he nearly groaned as her response to his touch tantalized his senses.  He wondered idly if she tasted as good as she smelled, and made quick work of shredding her pants until only a tiny scrap of black lace covered her mound.  Then watched in amazement as the girl started working the buttons of her blouse until it fell open to reveal the matching top to her knickers. 

He wasn’t one to normally fuck his food, but with her, he felt he could make an exception.  His hand wrapped around hers, drawing her away from the door and back towards the bed, and surprisingly, she followed willingly. 

At the edge of the mattress he turned her around and pushed lightly, allowing her to fall back upon the rumpled sheets.  She smiled up at him, sultry-like, causing his cock to jump.  He moved to lie down on top of her, but the heeled boot in his chest prevented the action.  

“Boots?” she questioned. 

William started down at the girl for a moment before taking in the boot digging into his chest.  He shook his head at her finally, saying, “Leave ‘em on.” 

Her grin, if anything, grew wider, and she shifted it off of his chest, allowing him to settle between her parted thighs.  Warm hands closed around his shaft, and a sense of déjà vu rocked him causing him to jerk, and he looked down to see her frown up at him.  He shook off the feeling, his tongue curling behind his teeth as he lowered his mouth to her lace-covered breast.  His lips closed around her puckered nipple within the confines of her undergarment, teasing it unmercifully.  The fabric was scratchy against his tongue; he wanted to see how smooth her flesh was, pierce it with his fangs and drink from her like a babe would. 

He leaned away and tried to work the clasp free, finally growling in frustration when he couldn’t figure out the contraption and grabbed either side and pulled.  Her breast sprang free, and he lowered his head to take the peak in his mouth.  His fangs elongated and punctured the milky-white skin; he took a deep pull of her blood and nearly came as the sweet vintage of Slayer flooded his mouth. 

What the bloody hell… 

But even as he tried to question why his sire would drop a Slayer in his bedroom, one that not only was on the brink of being fucked into the mattress by an evil vampire, but who didn’t seem to mind the fangs digging into her breast, another, more disturbing thought, came to mind. 

The girl had cried out someone else’s name. 

Spike. 

Who the fuck was Spike, and why did the fact that she’d shouted another’s name spark such an intense jealousy within him? 

With a snarl, he ripped the fabric covered her mound, positioned himself at her entrance and rammed his way home.  He’d teach her to think of another while he was sticking it to her. 

Spike. 

There it was again.  That name.  Dragged from her lips as he thrust into her.  He tore his mouth from her breast, bracing himself on his elbows so that he could stare down at her. 

Her head was thrown back, exposing the long line of her neck.  And he froze when the shirt she was wearing parted to reveal the fresh set of bite marks on her neck.  

Buffy mewled her displeasure, his warning growl in retaliation causing her eyes to open and glance warily in his direction. 

“Spike?” she called out softly. 

His gaze shifted from the bite marks he’d been staring at to her face.  She lifted her hand, intent on touching his cheek and he snarled again.  He watched as she stopped, her hand poised in mid air.  

“Spike, it’s ok.  I know you don’t remember just yet.  But you will.  And I’ll be right here.” 

William stared down at the Slayer, assessing her words for truth. 

She was calling him Spike?  His eyes strayed back to the marks on her neck.  He lowered his head, careful to keep one eye on her – although, with him buried deep inside her, his body stretched out on top of her own, she really had no recourse against him – and sniffed at the barely healed scar.  He recoiled slightly when his own scent came back to him. 

But how? 

“I don’t know,” she answered his unasked question.  “But I dreamed about you.  And in my dream you bit me.  At least I think it was a dream…” 

“You… dreamed about me?”  His voice sounded rough from disuse, and he tried to grapple with what she was trying to tell him. 

“Yes.  Ever since…”  Her voice trailed off for a moment, unwilling, or unable to verbalize what had happened to him.  How she’d relived it every night since.  “But, this last time, it was like it was really happening.  And then the spell wore off and you were seeing me, really seeing me.  And we…” 

Tears welled up and leaked from the corner of her eyes as she recalled the moment he’d gone from being Randy to Spike, his shock at being buried deep inside her, how he’d looked at her with such love. 

“I love you, and I’ll be here as long as it takes.  Even if… if you don’t get your memories back.  I’ll still be here.  I can’t…I can’t lose you again…” 

William stared down at the Slayer openly weeping now.  Definitely not what he’d envisioned when she’d first stepped inside the room.  Which brought him back to the fact that he was still balls deep inside her pussy.  And he was slightly amazed that throughout her entire confession, he’d managed to remain hard. 

He flexed his hips, pulling back and sliding back inside the wet depths of her quim, biting his lower lip when her inner walls rippled along his length.   Her heat scorched him, but it was a fire he’d gladly brave.  

Hadn’t he told Angelus that there was more to unlife than just lurking in the shadows? 

And with the Slayer beneath him, her words still ringing in his head, he figured that he was as far away from the shadows as he could get. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Angel opened the door to his bedroom some time later.  Both Buffy and Spike were sound asleep, but the vampire woke at the presence of his sire. 

“What she say true?” William asked, sleepily.  “That we’ve got a history?” 

“Yes.”  His answer was barely more than a whisper.  “Before you came back…she… she was broken, Will.  I think she would have rather died with you down in the Hellmouth than for her to think you didn’t believe her.” 

“Die with me?” 

“She didn’t tell you yet?  About what happened?” 

“No… just something about a dream she had.  And that I bit her.  Stranger still, is that she’s wearing the marks from it.” 

“I don’t know, Will.” 

“She says my name is Spike.  Well, she called me that, anyway.” 

“Yeah, it is.  Was just always partial to Will myself.  Now sleep.  I’ll be in my office.” 

William nodded and closed his eyes once more. 

“Oh, and no feeding.  I’d hate to have to dust you when you’ve only just got you back.” 

“No feeding?  How the bloody hell’s a bloke supposed to live?” William complained. 

“Blood’s in the fridge.  Human.  Microwave’ll warm it up for you.” 

Then his sire was gone, leaving William more confused than ever.  He wasn’t sure about the no feeding mandate, but Angelus had seemed adamant.  Definitely not characteristic of the Angelus he knew, but then, neither were the posh digs, or the fact that his sire had said he’d be in his office. 

Too much for him to take in just yet. 

Better to do like Angelus said and sleep. 

He curled next to the Slayer’s warm body and was soon lulled back to sleep.  He’d leave the other stuff for later.

THE END 

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