Blue Eyed Devil
Parts 35-44
Written by: Pattyanne
Author's Website
Summary: AU. (Here I go again) Spike is an up and coming rock star. His band is called "Blue Eyed Devil". Buffy is
a pre-school teacher, who meets him one night in a club where his band is singing.
Disclaimer: The show Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all of it's characters belong to Joss,
Mutant Enemy, & Fox Prod.
AN: Since I can't write music, and music is going to be a major theme in this story, I'll
be using other songs that I like. Unless it's noted that the song belongs to someone else,
I need you to suspend a little belief and pretend it's a Blue Eyed Devil song. I'm sure none of
you will have any problem imagining "him" singing a love song...to whoever.
Feedback: snapkik@yahoo.com
Part thirty-five...
Although she'd reached the age of twenty-five without ever
setting foot on an aircraft of any kind, Buffy was bound
and determined not to let her fear stop her from boarding
the one that would take her to San Francisco, and to Spike.
Even so, on Friday, she spent half the day worrying about
it and the other half giving herself silent, inspirational pep
talks about how silly she was being.
Sensible, practical Miss Buffy knew that the odds of her
plane going down were a million to one. But the other part of
her...the chicken-hearted part...knew that once was all it
took. Airplane crashes rarely gave you a second chance.
However, being with Spike was worth the risk.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
After returning all of her students into their parent's care
for the weekend, she brought her suitcase in from the trunk
of her car, then went looking for Willow.
She found her in the main office, going through a stack of
resumes in a search for a new teacher to replace one who
was leaving at the end of the month.
"You all set to go?" Willow, who had learned about Buffy's
flying phobia after an unsuccessful attempt to talk her into
a trip to Acapulco three years earlier, wore an expression
halfway between ' I know how scared you must be' and
'let's have no more of THIS nonsense, shall we'?
Buffy set down her suitcase and dropped into the leather
armchair. "More or less," she replied, smiling ruefully.
"More or less?"
"Well...technically I'm packed and ready to go," Buffy explained. "Psychologically, it's a whole other story."
Her friend smiled. "Ever considered seeing a psychiatrist
about that problem? I hear they've made big advances in
the field."
Buffy just shrugged. "I'll think about it."
Willow regarded her for a moment, then leaned over and
unlocked the bottom drawer of her desk to take out her
handbag. "In the meantime," she said, rooting through the
bag, "this might help."
She was holding a small prescription bottle, with some sort
of pills rattling inside it.
"What is it?"
"They're for motion sickness. You know how sometimes I
get carsick? These work great at mellowing you out. Take
one right before you get on the plane."
"Drugs?" At this point, Buffy was willing to agree to just
about anything. "Hand 'em over."
Willow looked past Buffy and out the window. "I think you're
ride is here."
Twisting around in the chair, Buffy's jaw sagged when she
saw a long, black limousine pull into the driveway.
"That's MY ride?" she squeaked, jumping to her feet. "It can't
be!"
"Well, it's not MINE," Willow replied. "I rarely hire limousines
to take me home."
"Yeah, but I always thought airport limousines were those
buses you see on the freeway with ten or twelve people in
them."
Buffy peeked through the blinds, watching the driver climb
out of the limo and head towards her classroom.
Apparently, he WAS looking for her.
"Obviously he wants you to be comfortable," Willow said
briskly. "Now, scat, and I'll see you on Monday, AT which
time I will expect all the yummy details. Hurry up, before
he thinks you're not here and leaves."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The driver not only got Buffy to the airport on time, but
he also escorted her inside to pick up her boarding pass
and check her suitcase, then ushered her to the right
gate.
Supremely grateful for his help, she rummaged around in
her purse for some cash, only to be told that it was already
taken care of. Wishing her a pleasant flight, he disappeared
into the crowd, leaving her to face the next step all by her-
self.
She used the facilities, not wanting her nervousness to have
an adverse affect on her bladder, then shook two of Willow's
pills into her clammy hand and swallowed them, washing
them down with water from the sink.
After patting her face dry on a paper towel, she took a
deep breath and returned to the waiting area. Her heart took
a sudden plunge when she saw that her flight had been
called and was now boarding. People with small children
were instructed to board first, then people with disabilities.
Buffy was pretty sure that being a nervous coward didn't
qualify as a disability that would earn her any special
privileges.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
She found her seat easily. There were only about ten
other passengers in the first class section, so she had the
entire row to herself.
The first thing she did before settling into the aisle
seat was to lean over and yank down the window covering,
figuring that if the ground suddenly came rushing up to
meet her, she didn't want to see it coming.
The longer she sat and waited, the more relaxed she
became...which surprised her since she'd figured it would
be the other way round.
Apparently, the little yellow pills were beginning to do
their job.
Gradually, she began to get a handle on her fears,
mentally commending herself for her splendid fortitude,
forgetting that it was drug-induced.
She would be just fine now. A model of calm and a picture
of serenity who was forcing herself not to look around for the
emergency exits, or to check the overhead compartment for
parachutes.
By the time the plane taxied down the runway for take-
off, she was almost in a stupor.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Miss? We've landed, Miss. Excuse me?"
Buffy pried her eyelids open. Was someone speaking to
her? "Hmm?"
"We've landed. You can get off the plane now."
Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, Buffy regarded the
flight attendant, a tall, nice looking blonde with the name
"Tracy" neatly printed on a gold name badge.
"Right," she mumbled, shaking off the excess cobwebs that
were obscuring her thought patterns. Taking a deep breath,
she tried to stand up, then realized that her seat belt was still
holding her in.
She'd never unbuckled it, even after being told she was free
to do so.
It took her three attempts to work the mechanism and
loosen the belt. After fishing her handbag out of the overhead
compartment, she stumbled off down the aisle after the attendant.
"You okay?" the woman asked, a concerned look in her eyes.
"Yeah. I'm...juss fine." Buffy nodded, rubbing her forehead.
"Is there someone here meeting you?"
"Tracy" was persistent.
Was there someone here to meet her? She honestly couldn't
remember what the arrangements had been. Had Spike
mentioned coming himself...or sending someone else...or
was she supposed to take a cab to his hotel...and what was
the name of the hotel again?
This wasn't good. She grabbed Tracy's sleeve and tugged on
it. "How...how many hotels you got here?"
"You mean...here in San Francisco? Too many to count."
"Oh. Okay, thanks." She began to walk off, not paying
attention when Tracy called after her, something about
was she sure she'd be all right....
"Yeah...be fine," she muttered, waving the woman off. "Be
right as the rain...soon as...soon as...whass his name
gets here. Bye."
Wandering through the terminal of San Francisco International, she spotted a sign for the ladies room and went in
to splash some cold water on her face. It helped, but only
marginally, and she still felt groggy when she was done.
She was standing beneath a sign, peering owlishly up at it
as she attempted to decipher its code, wondering who the
hell BART was, when she heard her name called.
"Buffy!" Someone spun her roughly around and swept her
into a close embrace. "Sweetheart...why aren't you waiting at
the gate?"
"Oh, hi!" she said, her voice muffled by the familiar warmth
and hard muscle of a man's chest. Finally...something she
recognized!
Pulling back to look at her, Spike frowned slightly. "Honey,
are you okay?"
"Uh-huh."
He still looked doubtful, but at least he pulled her close again.
"I can't believe how much I missed you," he said against the
side of her neck. "You know I'm not going to let you out of
my sight for the whole weekend, don't you?"
That was a plan she could definitely get behind. "Thass
okay with me," she slurred.
Much to her dismay, he moved back and stared down at
her face. "Have you been drinking? Was the flight that
bad for you?"
Buffy yawned. "No drinking. Fight was fline...fine!"
He wasn't buying it. "Then why do you look so out of it?"
After thinking the question over, she remembered. "Pills!"
"Sedatives?"
"Motion sickness."
"You get motion sickness?"
"Ummm...no. Willow does."
"And she gave you some pills?"
"Yup. Just so I could stay calm."
Cupping her face in his hands, he nailed her gaze with his
own. "How many did you take? I don't think your eyes are
focusing."
"Just two," she informed him, striving to speak clearly. She
fished the bottle out of her purse and he took it to study
the label.
"You're only supposed to take one," he said, shoving the
bottle into the front pocket of his jeans. "No wonder you
sound like you've been on a three day drunk."
Although she protested strongly to that comment, she
followed after him when he took her by the hand and headed
for the circular conveyor belt to pick up her suitcase.
When he noticed that watching the luggage revolve in an
endless circle was making her dizzy, he forced her to sit
on a bench and wait for him to retrieve her bag.
She was opening her mouth to tell him about a newspaper
article she'd read, courtesy of her 'constantly on the lookout
for potential disasters' mother, about thieves who hung around
baggage carousels in order to steal suitcases filled with
camera equipment and other expensive travel paraphernalia,
when the thought simply disappeared from her brain without
a trace.
Clinging to his hand once again as she trailed behind
him through the terminal, she could only hope it wasn't
an indication as to how the remainder of the weekend
was going to go.
Part thirty-six...
San Francisco looked like a beautiful city.
As much as she could see of it through the black
tinted windows of yet another limousine, anyway.
After retrieving her luggage, Spike had led her through
the terminal to the waiting area outside. They hadn't been
standing at the curb for more than thirty seconds before
the shiny stretch limo pulled up. The driver practically
leapt from the car and ran around to deal with Buffy's
suitcase, while she herself was stowed inside the rear
door by her obviously amorous boyfriend, who couldn't
keep his hands to himself.
"What's with all the limousines?" she had asked
playfully, sliding all the way over to the far side of
the seat.
He'd made some smart ass comment about how highly
valued he was by the sponsors of the tour, then confessed
that his habitual lateness, combined with the fact that he
always got lost in a new city, had prompted them to keep
a car and driver at his disposal.
Following her to the other side of the car, he reached...only
to have her slip away and hop to the seats on the opposite
side.
Since being adorable always scored big points for him, he'd
folded his arms across his chest and pouted, stating how
long...the exact amount of days, hours and minutes...it had
been since he'd kissed her properly, and didn't she CARE that
he was slowly dying?
He'd stared sulkingly out the window, not saying a word until
he'd noticed her fiddling around with the complimentary bottle
of champagne provided by the limo service.
"Oh, no you don't!" had been his only comment before pouncing
on her and wrestling the bottle out of her hand. Through the
slight ringing in her ears, she'd heard him mutter something
about her being 'high enough' as it was, and that there was no
way in hell he was going to allow her to add anything alcoholic
to the mix until the pills she'd swallowed had worked their way
through her system.
She spent the rest of the ride amusing herself with all the
buttons and gadgets there were to play with. The television
flicked on and off, the windows slid up and back down, and the
stereo blared so loud that people on the street stopped to see
where the ruckus was originating from.
Once she discovered the controls for the sun roof,
nothing would do but that she open it up and stand up on the
seat to look around outside. The evening breeze was crisp
and went a long way towards clearing her muddled head,
but it wasn't until she felt Spike's hands sliding up her outer
thighs and beneath her skirt that the world suddenly dropped
into sharper focus.
"Hey!" she said indignantly, sitting back down on the
seat and peering suspiciously at him.
He just sat there like the most innocent of lambs. "Problem?"
"You were feeling me up!"
Spike shook his head. "You're imagining things," he
assured her. "Those pills have made your head a bit wonky."
She looked at him with her 'stern teacher' face. "Are
you telling the truth?"
"Would I lie to you, darling?"
Suppressing a smile, she popped back out of the sunroof just in time to see a cable car passing by.
On the count of three, she felt those warm and knowledgeable
hands again, this time on the inside of her slightly spread
thighs. Clearing her throat loudly, she glared down at him.
He was fast though, and his hands were already back on
his lap, clasped loosely. "What?"
"You did it again."
"Did what?"
"Felt me up."
"I didn't! Swear to God." He held his hands up, showing
them to her as if to say, 'See! They're right here, minding
their own business!, thank you very much!'
Returning her attention to the streets of San Francisco,
Buffy marveled over how much she'd changed in the last
week. Before meeting Spike Devlin, she would have jumped
out of the car, whether it was moving or not, rather than allow
a man to....
**Oh, my God! Is he...he's trying to pull down my underwear!!**
Her mother would drop dead if she knew what was
happening to her only child.
Although hardly a prude, Joyce Summers had been raised
in a household by parents who believed that there were certain
things a lady simply did not do, and she'd passed those lessons
on to her own daughter...who was fast forgetting most of them.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Stop that!" she said sharply, kicking at him with one
foot. "I know what you're up to down there, you sneak."
Her skirt settled back around her legs for about ten
seconds. Trying not to wriggle, she folded her arms in
front of her and watched the parade of humanity walking
along the sidewalks and darting in and out of traffic.
"You know," he said from beneath her, "I'm really not
doing anything ungentlemanly. I know you're a modest little
thing and the last thing I want to do is embarrass you in
public."
Her skirt ruffled lightly, as though he was moving it one
up one micro-centimeter at a time.
"I'd never," he went on, "do anything you wouldn't want
me to do and I'm certainly not the kind of a bloke who'd
try and look up your skirts to see what you're wearing
and oh, good God...Buffy...can I just say that's the sexiest
thing I've ever seen in my life!"
She smiled. He'd discovered the scrap of black lace
and satin she was wearing that called itself a pair of
underpants. There was a cutout at the waistband, with
a tiny gold charm dangling in the center of it.
"Sweetheart....I know you're having a good time up there
checking out the city and all, but, do you think you could
come back down here, please?" he begged. "Unless you
WANT me to pull these down and take a little taste of you
where everyone can hear you scream. Is that what you want,
baby? You getting a bit kinky on me?"
Without a word, she dropped back down on the seat, and
found herself tackled into a prone position.
"Where did you get those naughty little things? Oh...they're
a little bit damp right here, aren't they?"
"Well, there's...there's this store...at the mall...it's...."
"It's what?"
"What? Oh! Uh....it's called...Leather...and Lace. I...oh!...I
shop on the....the lace side..."
"Really? I approve....God, that feels good...little harder,
babe...mmmm. You....you ever consider....trying the leather
side? Give me your hand....right there....yes...."
"There....there WAS this....red leather....oh, Spike...uh,
corset....sort of a thing...I saw. It....ahhh....it laced up....the
front, and it had....it had no...."
"Had no what, baby? Ah, yeah....harder!"
"No.....CROTCH!!"
With that, the limousine pulled into the round circular driveway
in front of the Mark Hopkins Hotel.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
With her cheeks tinted crimson, Buffy kept a tight hold
of Spike's hand as he led her through the elegantly
appointed lobby of the hotel.
Despite the privacy glass in the limo, she just couldn't
shake the feeling that the driver had been a silent witness
to the antics in the passenger compartment. Something
about the way he'd smiled when he'd opened the door
just as they'd managed to compose themselves and
straighten their clothing.
Although she'd been able to climb out of the car and
smile politely at the man, escaping with MOST of her
dignity intact, she couldn't help hoping that a different
driver would conduct her back to the airport when it was
time for her to go.
In the elevator, as she watched the floor numbers fly
by, Spike took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
"I'm really sorry about that, luv,"he said quietly. "I feel like
it's been forever since I touched you, and I guess I...I couldn't
help myself. You mad at me?"
One look at his face completely banished any "mad"
thoughts she may have had. Never had the boyish
charm been laid on quite so thick.
"I was there, too," she said, returning the gentle pressure
of his hand. Glancing back at the red digital numbers,
she became alarmed when she saw them whoosh past
twelve. "Just out of curiosity...how far up are we going?"
"All the way, luv," Devlin grinned broadly. "All the way."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The elevator glided to a smooth stop on the 17th floor.
When the doors slid open, Buffy stepped out, the heels
of her shoes sinking in plush carpeting.
"Pretty fancy," she whispered automatically, using
a tone she normally reserved for libraries and churches.
Spike inserted a key card in a slot on a door bearing
a small gold plaque with the words, 'Presidential Suite'
engraved on it.
Before she could place one foot in the room
Devlin set her suitcase down just inside the door, then
scooped her up in his arms and carried her inside.
"I thought only brides got carried over thresh holds,"
she laughed.
Closing the door behind him with his foot, he just
smiled and shrugged. "Give me time," he replied
suggestively.
Whether he was teasing or not was anybody's
guess.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The Presidential Suite was both amazing and
frightening at the same time. It was so luxurious,
so expensively decorated, that Buffy was almost
tempted to take off her shoes and leave them by the
door so as not to risk dirtying the carpet.
The door opened into a formal entry hall. There was
a closet on one side, and a small guest 'powder
room' on the other.
Beautifully furnished, there were glass topped gold
leaf coffee tables and lounge chairs with matching
ottomans. She saw floor to ceiling windows that had
to provide a spectacular view of the city, both at night
and during the day.
Satin white glass fixtures exuded the perfect lighting
to complete the atmosphere, soft and rather romantic.
On one wall, there was an entertainment center that
boasted a large screen television, a DVD/CD player,
and a Playstation video game system.
Her eyes were irresistibly drawn to a set of french doors
that had to lead into the bedroom.
"So, what do you think?" Devlin asked, placing her on
her feet. "Told you it was quite something, didn't I?"
"You weren't kidding," she said, turning in a slow
circle. "Is this all for YOU?"
He nodded, slipping his arms around her from behind
and nuzzling her neck in way that made her weak in the
knees. "All for me," he murmured. "But if you're nice,
I'll be glad to share it with you."
Buffy leaned back in his embrace. "How nice do I have
to be?"
Devlin chuckled and spun her around. Kissing her deeply,
he explored her mouth with a thoroughness that made her
dizzy, the pulse in her throat keeping time with the rhythmic
thrusts of his tongue.
Buffy's hands moved over him, feeling the warmth of
his skin and the hard contours of his body.
"This is so damn good," he whispered, running his
hands through her hair. "Missed you SO much,
baby."
She melted in his arms, depending on him to keep
her on her feet. **Finally** she thought. **I'm
finally back where I should be...should have been,
all along...**
Clutching him even closer, she silently willed him to
take her through those french doors to his bed.
**Oh, God...please. Make love to me, Spike. I
can't stand to wait...not another minute...**
"Buffy?" His face was buried against the side of her
neck. "Sweetheart?"
"Hmmm?"
"I have to go."
Part thirty-seven...
She couldn't have heard him properly. Either the
'happy pills' were still cluttering up her brain function,
or popping her pressure clogged ears on the plane
once too often had damaged her hearing.
"You...you have to go?" she asked. "You...I don't
get...what do you...huh? Where are you going?"
"It's almost eight o'clock, luv. Got to go and sing for
my supper or they'll start without me."
Something about that comment sounded awfully
familiar. It took her a moment to sort it out.
"Wait a second! You told me they CAN'T start
without you!"
At least he had the grace to look a little embarrassed.
"I did say that, didn't I?"
"Frequently."
He sighed. "Let's go round this mulberry bush later,
all right? And when I said that I have to go, I meant
that WE have to go."
Practical, honor-your-commitments-Buffy understood
and approved of his dedication. Sex-starved Buffy, on
the other hand, wasn't pleased at all, and sort of wished
he would call in sick.
"Don't you want to come and hear us?" he asked
cajolingly.
Well, of course she did. There was only ONE thing in
the world she wanted more. "I don't have a ticket."
That made him smile. "You don't need one," he said
taking both of her hands and kissing the backs of them.
"You can watch from backstage."
"Is that where ALL your groupies watch from?"
"Yes."
"WHAT??"
"You walked right into that one, Miss Buffy."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Sitting backstage at a rock and roll show wasn't
everything it was cracked up to be, Buffy decided.
The view was spectacular, there was no arguing that.
She'd seen the distance from the very back of the arena
to the stage and didn't understand how anyone could
possibly know what was going on. Once the music
started, however, she learned that the audio more
than made up for the visual.
Blue Eyed Devil sounded the best she'd heard them
so far. They were perfectly in sync with each other
and never struck a wrong chord. And, as always, they
seemed to be having a very good time.
After performing several of their lesser known works,
they began to play one of their first major hits. Buffy sat
on a stool, out of view of the audience, clapping her
hands over her ears when necessary to muffle the
crash of the drums.
Devlin was in his element. He sang to her, but gave
the impression that he was singing to everyone in the
audience.
"Works in the street, distant moon
In the heat as night descends;
Two searching loves cut their way into mine
Inviting me in.
Dancing so close
We already know how good it will be
We slip up from the unseen crowd
We find what we need.."
He moved close, almost to the very edge of the
stage, smiling at the starry eyed girls in the front
row.
"In the heart of the night
We run like bandits
Two hungry hearts
Under the gun
In the heart of the night
When we find each other
We're soon in love on the run
In the heart of the night
Heart of the night.."
She remembered this song. He had sung it for her
at one point during their last full night together.
And then afterwards....
The memory soon had her squirming on the stool.
Forcing her eyes forward, she watched Spike move
around the stage, his hands seemingly making love
to that damned guitar.
"The pulsating moon lays it's touch on the room
Your eyes reached to me
Two shadows fall, saying nothing at all
We know what we need.."
He was working up quite a sweat. The dark blue t-shirt
he wore was sticking to his back.
Buffy felt a corresponding moisture of her own starting
at her hairline. Absently, she brushed her hair back from
her face.
She could see the muscles in his arms flex as he
played, and her breathing deepened.
"In tender release, two prisoners are freed
from the darkness
One more escape, surviving the heartache
and madness..."
When he turned suddenly to look right at her, she
couldn't stop herself from licking her lips.
His eyes widened briefly, and his lips curved in that
wonderfully sexy smile that she absolutely loved.
With his back turned away from the crowd, he mouthed
the words, "I want you."
She felt herself blush from head to toe, which he
obviously saw since he grinned hugely, winking at her
before he turned back to the adoration of his audience.
"In the heart of the night
We run like bandits
Two hungry hearts
Under the gun
In the heart of the night
When we find each other
We're soon in love, on the run
In the heart of the night
Heart of the night...."
The song finished with a drum flourish that
nearly deafened her. She was so entranced by
Spike's performance that she didn't even notice
or hear the intermission announced.
But her heart skipped more than one beat when
she saw him set down his guitar and turned towards
her.
His hair was tousled, and he was really sweating
now, his shirt clinging to all the damp patches on his
torso.
He didn't say anything, just grabbed her hand and led
her back further offstage, down a small slight of steps
and through a door marked with the words, 'NO ENTRY'.
The room she found herself in was nicely furnished. There
were two long sofas against the wall, and a number of
chairs and low tables. Next to one sofa, there was a
large cooler filled with bottles of water, cans of soda
and beer.
Spike closed the door behind him and turned to look
at her. He was going to say something, but she didn't
give him the chance.
His performance had done something to her that she
hadn't experienced before. She'd felt desire, love, and need
of him many times in the past week, but this was something
much stronger, much more basic....
This was lust.
And she was in no mood to question it. Obeying the
demands of her body, she shut down the overlying
caution that her brain was always mired in and flung
herself forward, plowing into him so hard that it pushed
him back up against the door.
"Mmmph...Buffy! Sweetheart....you don't....why..oh,
God...."
Attacking his mouth with hers, she began tugging at
the hem of his shirt.
"Baby," he choked out. "You...you don't want this now.
I'm all sweaty and...."
"I don't care," she said, digging her nails into his damp
skin. "I do want you now, Spike. Right now."
She barely registered his hand fumbling at the door knob
and locking it. Her own hands were too busy pushing his
shirt up to be of any help.
"Honey....I smell terrible. Why don't you let me...."
"No," she said forcefully, injecting every scrap of
authority she could into her tone. "I'm not kidding, Spike.
I don't care if you're sweaty and I like the way you smell
right now." She got his shirt up and off, and she leaned
in close, pressing her lips over the place his heart was
pounding.
His head thumped back against the door. "Oh, god...Buffy.
Are....are you sure you want it like this?"
"I'm sure," she whispered against his neck. "Spike, please.
It feels like it's been so long since we...."
"It's been forever," he rasped. Placing his hands under her
arms, he reversed their positions, shoving her roughly up
against the door. His mouth came down on hers with a
bruising force, parting her lips. He slipped his tongue in past
the barrier of her teeth, moaning when she sucked on it.
Buffy only had a moment to be thankful that she was still
wearing a skirt, before his hands were on either side of her,
gathering the material and pulling it up around her waist.
His fingers were shaking as he gripped the elastic of her
panties...the black lace confection he'd raved about in the
limousine...and yanked them down around her knees. Shifting
her legs sent them the rest of the way down to the floor, and
she stepped out of them and kicked them halfway across the
room.
By this time, he had wrestled his belt off and had his jeans
unzipped. He grabbed her hand and pushed it into the opening
of his pants, gasping loudly when her fingers tightened around
his erect cock.
Spike pushed the sides of his pants down until they were
on the floor around his feet. He placed his hands on either
side of her waist and lifted her, bracing her against the door.
She was quite pleased that she didn't need to be told what
to do next. Hopping up, she laughed when he caught her
under her bare bottom and gave it a lusty squeeze.
He chuckled. 'You've got the prettiest little ass, baby. It's so
soft and warm."
Buffy wrapped her legs around his waist. "Spike...?"
"What, honey?"
"Don't tease me."
"I'm sorry, luv." He lifted her, then reached down and
positioned himself for penetration. "You ready?"
"God, yes....ah! Oh, Spike....yes."
He slid all the way in, so deeply that she was sure
he'd come out on the other side. Leaning against her, he
ground his pelvis into hers.
Buffy tightened her arms around his neck, burying her
fingers in his damp hair.
"Buffy....baby, that's good. You're so wet and tight. I
love fucking you." He quickly established a steady
rhythm, pumping hard and fast, then switching to slow
and deep.
Her hands moved down over his shoulders, stroking the
warm skin that was so slick beneath her fingers.
He gave her what she needed, a hard, pounding surge
of his flesh into hers, over and over again, tireless and
eager to satisfy her. The muscles of his neck and
shoulders were taut and corded, his expression tense
as he worked over her.
The sound of their bodies coming together and then
pulling apart was wildly arousing to her, driving her lust
for him to insane heights. Instinctively, she began
thrusting forward to meet his strokes, her thighs
pressing in strongly on either side of him.
Sobbing grunts came out of her with each strong
plunge, and she clutched at him fiercely, waiting for
that build up, that steady climb that he always took
her on.
At that moment, there was nothing existing in the
world for them but each other. All they wanted was
what they had, what they felt.
Harder and faster, deep and wild and totally relentless,
he rammed into her, groaning soft words of love and
raw sex.
"Baby....I love you....go it, honey....come on....that's
it....that's my girl...oh, fuck me...yeah...yeah...so
sweet....so fucking hot...I love...the way...your pussy
just...holds onto me....squeezes me....makes me come
so damn hard...you feel good, babe...wet and juicy...you
want it harder? Do you? Tell me...."
She tried to think, to speak, but it wasn't working for
her. All she could do was hold on tight...and feel.
"Buffy....kiss me," he begged, lifting his face and
searching for her mouth. "I want to be kissing you when
we come."
With one arm locked around his neck, she placed her
hand under his chin and guided him, covering his lips
with hers and plunging her tongue inside his mouth.
It was the last little bit of stimulation he needed. His
pace picked up even more and he slammed into her over
and over again, until, with one last wild cry, he exploded
inside of her.
Her own orgasm flowed through her, making her whimper
in her throat as she ground her mouth down on his and
tangled her fingers in his hair, gripping it tightly.
Panting, he slowly let her legs go until her feet touched
the floor. "It's always so good....it almost scares me,"
he moaned.
She didn't have to ask him what he meant. She knew.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm perfect."
"That you are, darlin....that, you are."
******************************
Back on her stool, Buffy was a little surprised to find
that her bottom was sore. She wondered if there was a
bruise.
She didn't care. She just wondered.
Blue Eyed Devil once again took the stage, and the
crowd reacted predictably.
Spike clipped on his guitar and stepped up to the
microphone. "San Franciso," he yelled. "You
bloody ROCK!!"
San Francisco agreed, and they let him know it.
"Got something new for you," he said. "Hasn't been
played anywhere...until tonight. You want to hear it?"
The audience screamed "yes" at the top of their
lungs.
He waited for the clamor to subside, then turned and
gave Buffy a sidelong glance. "This is for you," he
mouthed.
"It's hard for me to say the things
I want to say sometimes
There's no one here but you and me
and that broken old street light
Lock the doors
We'll leave the world outside
All I've got to give to you are these
five words when I....
Thank you for loving me
For being my eyes
When I couldn't see
For parting my lips
When I couldn't breathe
Thank you for loving me..."
It was the loveliest song she'd heard yet, and
knowing he'd written it for her made her heart swell
and her eyes fill with tears.
"I never knew I had a dream
Until that dream was you
When I look into your eyes,
the sky's a different blue
Cross my heart
I wear no disguise
If I tried, you'd make believe
That you believe my lies
Thank you for loving me
For being my eyes
When I couldn't see
For parting my lips
When I couldn't breathe
Thank you for loving me..."
The audience couldn't see her, but when he turned
to face her, they knew something was up. Everyone
in the place seemed to be holding their breath.
"You pick me up when I fall down
You ring the bell before they count me out
If I was drowning, you would part the sea
And risk your own life to rescue me
Lock the doors
We'll leave the world outside
All I've got to give to you
Are these five words when I...."
Unconsciously, she leaned forward on the stool,
wanting so badly to go to him that it almost hurt.
"Thank you for loving me
For being my eyes
When I couldn't see
For parting my lips
When I couldn't breathe
Thank you for loving me
When I couldn't fly
Oh, you gave me wings
You parted my lips
When I couldn't breathe
Thank you for loving me
Thank you for loving me...."
The applause for the song was literally thundering. It
went on for at least two full minutes.
Taking brief advantage of the situation, Devlin set down
his guitar and walked offstage into Buffy's outstretched
arms.
Laying his head on her shoulder, he whispered, "Did you
like it, sweetheart?"
"You know I did," she said, stroking his damp curls.
"About earlier," he began. "I'm sorry it was so quick."
She shook her head. "Don't be. It was perfect for the
moment."
He lifted his head and gave her a devilish grin. "Well, later
when we get back to the hotel? I'll definitely take my
time and see to you properly."
Part thirty-eight...
Parking Buffy once again in the small, private room
where they'd had their earlier tryst, Devlin planted a
hard kiss on her mouth and left to take a quick shower
in the executive suite set aside for the band to use
during breaks in their performance.
The rest of 'Blue Eyed Devil' were making their
presence known at a backstage party, the noise of
which she could hear clear on the other side of the
building.
Spike had offered to take her there to wait, but Buffy
had no desire to get involved in any kind of social
situation that involved anyone but the two of them.
Still it was difficult to stay in that room, remembering
what they had done there, and not turn a thousand
different shades of red.
She was thumbing through a two year old copy of
Architectural Digest when he came back.
Smiling, she looked up and the magazine hit the floor
with a loud 'thwack'.
"Ready to go, love?"
Buffy felt herself staring like a star struck teenage girl.
Sexy was Spike Devlin's middle name, but he had some-
how managed to push that particular bar to an all new level.
His damp hair was slicked back neatly, his skin freshly
washed of the perspiration he had worked up performing.
As he always did directly after coming offstage, he still
retained a lot of the kinetic energy and driving force that
came to him so effortlessly in front of an audience. In
fact, he was practically humming with it.
He stood before her now in a clean pair of black denim
trousers, a black button down shirt...half unbuttoned...the
scuffed and well worn boots that he was so attached to,
and an ankle length coat fashioned of soft, black leather.
Although his entire appearance radiated a sexual aura
that could cut through the fog over San Francisco Bay,
it was the coat that was really doing things to Buffy's
central nervous system.
If there'd ever been an article of clothing more made for
a certain person to wear, more perfectly suited for just
him, she couldn't begin to imagine what it could be.
"What are you staring at?" he asked, amusement laced
through his voice.
Once upon a time, that question would have made her
blush and stammer. Being caught blatantly gaping at a
man wasn't something she was accustomed to.
However, that was the 'old' Buffy, the virginal, 'prim and
proper' Miss Summers. The one who HADN'T been
romanced right off her feet by a rock singing sex god
who touched every part of her in a different way; body,
heart, and soul.
The 'new' Buffy, no longer a virgin in any sense of the
word, was beginning to take over the wheel for a bit.
"Was I staring?" she asked, widening her eyes. "I
didn't mean to. It's just that...I was sitting waiting here
for my boyfriend to come back. You may have passed
him in the corridor...about your height, holes in the knees
of his jeans, sweaty t-shirt with a soccer team logo half
scratched off?"
Devlin's grin widened. "That git? Yeah, I saw him. What's
he doing leaving a juicy little thing like you all on her own
here, the stupid prat."
"That's a very good question," Buffy said, sighing deeply.
"He lured me to San Francisco, made me all sorts of
seductive promises to get me here, and it's been nothing
but ho-hum ever since. Well," she added, "except for
intermission. That was...very nice."
"Very nice?" Devlin arched his brow. "That the best that
tosser can do for you? Very nice?"
"He's usually....what? What's a tosser?"
Devlin walked toward her in measured paces. "A tosser is
what your boyfriend is going to be tonight. Because YOU
are coming with ME."
"And just why would I do something like that, handsome
stranger?"
"Because I can do much better for you than 'very nice'." He
reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips. "I can show
you this town in style. Treat you like the princess you are."
Buffy's heart sped up as he pressed a heated kiss to
the palm of her hand, without once breaking eye contact.
"That...that sounds like fun," she managed to say.
Devlin took her other hand and gave it the same treat-
ment. "It will be."
**************************************************
Still hanging onto his hand, Buffy followed Spike through
the twist and turns of the hallways and out through a rear
exit door, cleverly avoiding the crowd clamoring for his
attention.
Parked at the curb was a low slung, hideously expen-
sive looking sports car, the kind manufactured in Italy.
Much to Buffy's surprise, Devlin produced a key and
unlocked it. After making sure her seat belt was fastened,
he came around the front and climbed into the passenger
seat.
Buffy was marveling over the plush interior and the
dashboard that looked like something you'd see launching
space shuttles at Cape Kennedy.
"This is a really nice car."
Devlin started the engine and grinned at her. "Well, it's
cold outside at night. I couldn't drag you all over San
Francisco on the back of my motorcycle," he said, pulling
out into traffic.
"And you bought a car just for me? That's sweet."
"No, I borrowed a car just for you."
"Who from?"
"I'm not sure. Our manager arranged it."
Settling back into plush leather, Buffy ran her fingers
over the walnut paneled dash. "I'm sure having my share
of 'first times' with you."
"Yeah?"
"First time on an airplane. First time in a....a..."
"Maserati," he supplied helpfully.
"Thank you. First trip to San Francisco. First time
backstage at a rock concert. First time riding on a
motorcycle.."
"Aren't you forgetting something?" He gave her a
sidelong look. "Your biggest 'first time' with me?"
Against her will, her cheeks turned pink. "So how
much do cars like this go for?" she asked, neatly
changing the subject.
"Close to a quarter of a million."
Buffy's jaw sagged. She'd been thinking maybe sixty or
seventy thousand, tops.
"A quarter of a million dollars?"
"That's right."
"And....and someone just let you take it?"
"I'm very responsible."
Yes, he WAS a good driver. She remembered that from
the time he drove her car. He was actually a better driver
than she was, since she tended to creep over the speed
limit and never missed an opportunity to hit a speed bump
or pothole while going too fast.
"Be careful," she mumbled under her breath when another
car got a little too close.
"Don't worry, love. This isn't a 'you break it-you buy it' sort
of deal. It's heavily insured."
"Still....be careful."
**************************************************
He took her to the Beach Chalet Restaurant in Golden
Gate Park for a late dinner. The crowd was light and they
were given a table with a spectacular view of the bay and
the ocean.
Sitting close together in a booth, he hand fed her Butter-
milk Fried Calamari, and chunks of warm sourdough bread
spread with a sweet butter. For the main course, he ordered
a grilled New York Steak with a red wine sauce and the
most enormous baked potato Buffy had ever seen.
She opted for the Dungeness Crab Stuffed Rainbow Trout,
served in white wine butter sauce on a bed of wild rice. They
shared bites of each others dinners as Spike kept her
amused by telling her stories about Andy and Xander's
constant bickering on the trip north.
Dessert consisted of a house specialty...The Beach Chalet
Chocolate Sandcastle...an intense chocolate torte, with
chocolate shortbread cookies, peanuts, and warm chocolate
and caramel sauces, cut into shapes and assembled into a
replica of a sandcastle.
After dinner, he gave her a quick tour of the city, promising
to take her out for a longer one the following afternoon before
the concert. He drove her back and forth across the Golden
Gate Bridge, showed her the view of the Coit Tower from
Washington Square, and pointed out Alcatraz Island. They
drove slowly through Chinatown and passed by Ghiradelli
Square, where the air was heavily scented with the aroma
of warm chocolate.
When he noticed that she was starting to look sleepy,
he turned the car around and headed for the hotel.
**************************************************
"Are you tired, love? Want to go to sleep?"
Buffy leaned against him, watching the floor numbers
flash. "I can sleep at home," she said. "How often do I
get a chance to be with you in a luxury hotel suite in
San Francisco?"
He slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled
her closer. "We'll come back sometime, I promise. Spend
a lot of time and really do it up right. That sound good?"
It sounded like the promise of a future. It sounded very
good to her.
Dropping her handbag on the sofa, she toed her shoes
off. "Hey, how come you got this suite all to yourself?" she
asked. "Are you that big a star already?"
He chuckled, emptying his pockets out onto the bar. "Not
hardly. Two suites came with the deal. I got this one and
the guys are sharing the other."
"Why? No, don't tell me...because it's your band."
"Smart-arse," he said softly. "No, it's because I dropped
several cast iron hints about wanting to be alone in this
one with you."
"And they just went along with that idea?"
"Yeah, of course they did. It's..."
"...my band," they finished in unison.
"All right, saucy," Devlin laughed. "You want to go
bed, or should we enjoy the amenities first?"
"Is that a new name for it?" she asked.
"Oh, you are really in top form tonight, Miss Buffy."
**************************************************
"This feels nice."
"Glad you like it, love."
"It's so relaxing. They have them at my gym, but
I've never used them. I don't....what was that?"
"Doorbell."
"Hotel rooms have doorbells?"
Spike climbed out of the hot tub and wrapped a towel
around his lean hips. "This one does."
"So who's at the door at this time of night?" Buffy asked,
slipping down further into the roiling waters of the spa.
"Room service, I expect." He smiled and winked. "I
called down for a bottle of champagne while you were
in the bathroom."
Just when she thought it couldn't possibly get any more
romantic.
**************************************************
Not only did he pour champagne, but he brought out
a box of chocolate covered cherries he'd purchased
on his first swing through town that afternoon.
She was instantly rocketed back to their first date,
when she'd asked him what he wanted from her and
he'd made that breath stealing speech about waking
up with her hair spread across his pillow and holding
her on his lap to feed her chocolate covered cherries.
The heat from the spa softened the candies, making
their hands and lips sticky. He diligently licked every
trace of the dark chocolate smears from her fingers,
and kissed them from her mouth.
Sitting on the small built in seat, he arranged her so
that she was straddling his lap, facing him, then tilted
his champagne glass and let the sparkling wine trickle
over her parted lips. Drops of it ran down her chin and
splashed her throat, pooling in the shallow hollow at its
base.
She could feel him beneath her, his hardness nudging
insistently against her softness. Placing her own glass
on the side of the tub, she tangled her fingers in his hair,
panting as his mouth moved lower to lap the champagne
droplets from her breasts.
"Drink some," he whispered. Bringing his wine glass up
and touching the rim to her lower lip, he bent his head
and pressed his lips against her throat to feel the ripples
as she swallowed.
A gentle touch beneath her chin tilted her head back,
and his mouth captured hers. He drank the wine from
her lips, then dipped his finger in the glass and painted
them again, trailing a lazy path just along their inner
surface, following it with the tip of his tongue.
Her eyes drifted shut, her lips moist and parted, and
just a little swollen from hard kisses, her breathing
deliciously ragged.
She abandoned herself to him, letting him move her
to and fro, anywhere he chose, like a rag doll marionette.
When his hands moved down to lift and caress her
breasts, she heard a softly murmured plea escape her
throat, whispering his name.
His quiet laughter tickled her sensitive skin. "Shall I take
you to bed, darling?"
"Yes. Take me to bed, Spike. Take me....."
Part thirty-nine...
Buffy stretched out on the bed, rubbing against the satiny sheets like a pleased
kitten.
Devlin moved his hands down her body in long long sweeping caress, enjoying
the smoothness of her skin and the flesh beneath that was both soft and firm.
He squeezed the full mounds of her breasts, then circled his fingers on her
abdomen. When she tensed, he leaned over and kissed it gently, until she went
limp again.
Sliding further down, he lifted one small foot and kissed the delicate instep.
Being careful not to tickle, he nibbled her toes, then took the smallest one
into his mouth and sucked softly. She squirmed, but he caught the increased
scent of her arousal so he knew she was all right.
He kissed a path up her legs, carefully parting her thighs and settling between
them. She was moist and glistening in the soft lamplight, and he inhaled deeply,
her scent swirling around his head and making him dizzy.
The temptation to eat the juicy peach between her legs was strong, but he wanted
other things first, so he didn't linger there.
He continued upwards, first his mouth, then his fingers blazing a path. Over
her abdomen, up her arm to her shoulders, then back down her throat.
Lying quiescently beneath him, Buffy suddenly arched her back, begging silently
for his attentions to her breasts.
Highly pleased by the gesture, he laid a tender trail of kisses over her breasts,
starting at the lush under curve and working his way up.
A light touch of his tongue on her nipple broke her silence. One soft gasp and
husky moan followed another as he sucked and licked the tight peaks.
Buffy's legs parted, and her hips thrust up sharply in another wordless demand.
He had to pull away to keep himself from blindly thrusting into her.
She complained by whimpering in her throat, a sound that turned to pleasure
when he slid his hand down between her legs and inserted two fingers up inside
of her.
"There you are," he murmured, licking her ear. "That better, love? Does it help?"
The folds of her sex clung to his fingers as he worked them in and out of her,
slowly at first, then a bit faster, then a little faster still.
He caught her mouth beneath his, smiling when her lips parted and her tongue
searched for his.
Kissing her deeply, his thumb swept back and forth over her clit, rubbing the
slick button. She placed on hand over his, making him press down harder.
Amazed, he watched as her orgasm began to build. The fluids she was producing
were making things even more slippery and heated. He was torn between the desire
to take his fingers out of her and lick the taste of her from them, and the
knowledge that he couldn't stop when she was so close.
He brought her off twice, each climax short and sweet, not the lingering waves
that he usually felt ripple through her body.
"Stop," she panted, even as her internal muscles clamped down on his fingers.
"Not yet," he said. "One more." His fingers curled upwards, easily finding the
little swelling cushion of flesh. He pressed up, increasing the pressure a bit
at a time.
Buffy couldn't hold back the cries that poured from her throat. Her feet planted
firmly on the bed, she arched her hips and screamed his name....then slowly....slowly....settled
back down.
"Oh....oh, god...." she panted, licking her dry lips. "What....what did you
just do?"
Devlin chuckled, delighted with the response he was getting from her. "Another
first," he said. "Your G-spot."
Withdrawing from the recess of her body, he took her clit between his finger
and thumb and pinched, rubbing up and down again, capitalizing on her increased
sensitivity.
"Oh, no," she moaned. "I....I can't....not again...."
"You can." He continued rubbing. "You will."
Almost without her even knowing it, her hips lifted to push against his pleasuring
hand.
"Do it again," he encouraged her. "Come for me, kitten....do it...."
"Spike," she cried. "I'm....oh....yes!"
She came again, in another rush of hot juice.
It was over with a few deep shudders. Buffy fell back on the bed, all her muscles
becoming loose and fluid.
"That....that was amazing," she said. "So...so intense."
He smirked at her as he withdrew his fingers and licked them. "I could tell
you liked it. Never heard you scream so loud."
"Spike!"
"What?"
**************************************************
"Shower or bath?"
"You choose."
He made a show of great concentration.
"Well, we've already showered together. Let's try a bath."
Buffy nodded and sat down on the side of the enormous bathtub, leaning down
to twist the faucets. She found the proper temperature, then stood up and dropped
her robe.
"Holy fuck!"
She turned and looked at Spike. "What?" she asked innocently.
Shaking his head as though he was trying to kick start his brain, he said, "You.
Standing there like that. Bare ass naked in the candlelight."
"You like?"
"Christ, yes! Come here."
"No...bath first."
"Hell with it. I want to fuck you."
"Such language," she scolded mildly, retreating to the opposite side of the
tub.
He paced after her. "Okay, I want to screw you."
"Spike!"
"Lay you?"
"Will you stop?"
"Shag you senseless?"
"Get away!"
"Buffy!" He dropped the towel and gestured southward. "Look at me!"
She looked, delicious shivers chasing up and down her spine. He was rigidly
hard. His shaft had a deep reddish tinge to it, and was oozing semen.
"That looks...uncomfortable," she observed.
"It is," he whined. "In fact....it's starting to hurt."
"Really?" Was that possible?
"Yes, really." He gave her his most winning smile. "Do something."
The hungry look in his eyes won her over. "Oh, all right. Climb in the tub,"
she instructed him.
"What?" He tilted his head quizzically. "No. I thought..."
"Get in the bathtub."
"But...but the bed...."
Buffy stepped into the tub herself, then picked up a bath mitten fashioned from
a soft sponge, and a bottle of scented body wash. "Come on," she coaxed him,
hoping she knew what she was doing.
When he saw her slip the mitten on and soak it in the hot water, he grinned
happily. "Yes, Miss Buffy."
He sat back, leaning against the tile. Buffy stepped between his outstretched
legs and sat down, then squirted a glob of soap into the mitten and worked up
a thick, creamy lather.
She started at his shoulders and washed her way down his body, paying special
attention to his chest and his lower abdomen. She had him lift one leg, washed
it thoroughly, then moved on to the other.
After he was completely rinsed, she had him sit on the side of the tub. She
applied a little more soap to her bath glove, then wrapped it firmly around
his erection and squeezed.
He muttered something under his breath that she couldn't quite understand.
Keeping her hand around him, she slipped it up and down the turgid length of
his penis, teasing him by going very slowly. He hissed air in between his clenched
teeth, lifting his hips slightly.
"Faster," he pleaded.
She increased her speed only by a fraction. "Like this?"
"Mm-hmm....more."
The soap laden glove slid easily up and down. She could feel him growing even
harder in her hand.
Glancing up, she saw that his eyes were closed in fierce concentration. The
candlelight flickered gently, playing in his hair and across the sharply handsome
planes of his face.
She began moving just a little bit faster, her movements eliciting a soft groan
from him.
When his hips began lifting to meet her strokes, she made a cup of her left
hand and filled it with water, then rinsed the soap off.
"Buffy," he gasped in frustration. "Please...please, love...."
Before she could lose her nerve, she lowered her head and took him into her
mouth, sliding her lips down as far as she could take him.
Spike opened his eyes, watching her. His hand removed the butterfly clip securing
her hair, releasing it to fall down like a silky cloud around her face. The
soft tresses danced across his thighs as her head moved up and down.
"God, Buffy....yes. That's so good," he whispered, stroking her hair back so
as not to hide the view of what she was doing to him. "Suck harder, love. Use
your tongue on it."
She increased the suction, her cheeks hollowing as she drew upwards. Letting
the head slip from her mouth, she licked him as delicately as a little cat,
swirling her tongue around his glans, then stroking just under the ridge.
Spike continued to watch with half closed eyes as his breathing changed to sharp,
intense gasps for air.
Buffy licked her lips and took him back in, closing her eyes when she tasted
the salty sweetness of his semen.
"Buffy....suck me deeper....suck me hard."
She made a growling noise in her throat as she slid further down, sliding her
tongue up and down the prominent vein and letting the vibration of her voice
increase his pleasure.
Spike pushed his fingers into her hair, holding her and guiding her up and down,
his hips jerking forward slightly. He was almost dizzy with the vibrant need
to ejaculate, desperate for it, but he was enjoying her tender touch beyond
anything else.
Hard to believe this was the same woman who had turned eleven different shades
of red when he'd teased her about listening to the music that first night at
Union Jack's.
Somehow, in the past week or so, she had gone through a dazzling metamorphosis,
changing from a shy, reserved school teacher into the wanton little sex kitten
crouching between his spread legs, sucking his dick with a skill that was completely
natural.
Her timidity was gone, for the moment anyway...he had no doubt it would be back.
But that was fine with him. He loved the way she kept him guessing, kept him
wondering who he would be dealing with at any given time.
She sucked him sweetly, then licked her way from the base of his shaft to the
head. When she brought her hand up to cup his sac and fondle him there, he was
certain he was about to lose his mind.
His climax was beginning to build in earnest. God, he was so close...so damn
close....
"Buffy...honey...I'm going to come soon...I can't....can't hold it....back...love..."
She looked up at him, but kept sucking, moving her head in his grasp so he could
feel all of her mouth.
Spike's control was dwindling rapidly. "Buffy....baby...let me do it....let
me come in your mouth...please, baby. It feels so good when you don't stop.
Can I? Please.."
She answered him by slipping her free hand around and grasping his backside,
urging him to thrust.
He took her signal without question, pushing himself in and pulling back out,
over and over again, watching his dick emerge from her sweet little mouth, all
shiny from her saliva.
Buffy bore down further, tugging at him with the pressure of her mouth, making
him grunt with enjoyment.
When he felt the gentle scrape of her teeth, he knew it was all over. Releasing
one last, harsh cry, he pumped himself into Buffy's mouth with ecstatic pleasure,
letting his orgasm swell from his balls up through his belly. His shaft pulsed
and contracted, stiffening even more as his semen jetted out of him, spurting
with deep throbs into her mouth. "Yes! Oh, fuck....yes....Buffy...Christ, baby....suck
me....do it....hard...HARD!"
As wonderfully draining as it was, he couldn't look away, had to watch, loving
the sight of her taking it all, sucking it out of him, swallowing it, then licking
him clean with her pretty, pink tongue.
"Ohhhhh...." he groaned, leaning back against the tile wall. "Baby...you do
me so damn good."
Buffy sat back on her heels in the water, smiling in a way that told him how
pleased she was with him and with herself, as well.
"Let's get in bed, love. I've gotta rest."
Her green eyes glowed with a purely feminine pride, but all she said was, "All
right."
**************************************************
They hadn't been beneath the sheet for more than two minutes when Spike rolled
over and kissed her, his tongue thrusting deeply into her mouth.
Definitely NOT a 'goodnight' kiss.
He reached down between Buffy's thighs, coaxing that sweet moisture out of her
again. "Bloody hell," he muttered, "you're always so wet and hot for me, Buffy.
You're so fucking unbelievable."
Nudging her legs farther apart, he settled down in between them.
"You're ready for me now," he added, angling his hips to rub his newly hardened
cock against her opening.
She gripped his biceps, holding him back. "Wait a second. I thought you needed
to rest."
"I did. I'm rested."
"Already?"
"Uh-huh." He gave her that wickedly sexy look that always turned her to jello.
"You gonna let me in?"
"Well...."
"Please, Buffy....beautiful, sexy little school teacher," he cajoled. "Invite
me in."
Sighing, she parted her legs further for him. "You must think I'm a real push-over."
"No. Swear to God, I don't....a little more, babe. That's it....yeah...oh, yeah.."
Reaching down, he took his shaft into his hand and rubbed the head against her,
coating it with her wetness.
Buffy inhaled sharply when he brushed against her clit, then lingered to rub
her there a little harder.
"You like that? Do you?"
"Yes...I love it," she murmured, digging her nails into his arms. "You know
I do."
"But I like to hear it. I love hearing your pleasure. The things you say....those
sweet little sounds you make when I'm hitting all the right places."
He loomed over her in the dark room as she raised her knees.
"You don't need any more rest?"
"I need you," he whispered, dipping his head to bite at her ear lobe. "I need
to be inside you...as deep as I can go."
"Oh." She clutched him tighter. "I...oh...."
"I want to feel you come," he said, swaying his hips from side to side. "I love
the way it feels when you tighten around my cock...when you pour that cream
all over it...oh, Buffy....baby...."
Her moan became a gasp when he did something delicious, a wet, licking caress
up and down her labia with the head of his penis.
"I want in now, baby...want to slide in all the way...all the way in that tight
little pussy...want to go slow...make it last...."
Good as his word, he positioned himself and began that deep, lingering penetration.
She could feel every inch of him gliding into her, smooth as hot silk, filling
her completely.
"Oh, Christ," he bit out, setting his jaw. "That's it...it's in all the way...ahhhh...yeah."
For a long, wonderful moment, he didn't move except to grind down against her.
Buffy's fingers danced down his back to the base of his spine, then smoothed
out and caressed his damp skin.
"I love you," he panted hotly in her ear. "Love you so fucking much. I'd die
without you."
He was holding himself off her, leaning his weight on his forearms. Tenderly,
she brushed his sweaty curls back from his face. "Spike..."
"Say you love me," he pleaded. "Just me...no one else."
"I love you," she whispered, lifting her hips to him. "I only love you. No one
else. Not ever."
"Just me," he repeated, thrusting hard. "I'm your man."
"Yes...yes...yes..." she chanted, becoming lost in the rhythm. "You are...only
you."
He pumped his hips harder, alternating his thrusts with the side to side motions,
making sure to stimulate her clit with each inward push.
Buffy's toes curled into the mattress as their bodies slapped together and pulled
apart, surging and writhing together, sticky and wet.
"Arch your back," he demanded. "I want your breasts. I want to suck them."
She obeyed, watching him lower his head and engulf her right breast in his mouth.
He suckled hard, moving his head around and tonguing her nipple. Every time
he sucked hard, she could feel an answering twitch down in her womb.
He began licking her then, his tongue flat and wet, covering the surface of
her breasts with greedy hunger, lapping with hard strokes. Burying his face
in the hollow between them, he clenched the cheeks of his ass and began pounding
in harder and faster.
Losing himself in the delirium, he nuzzled her. He was quite certain that he
could do this forever. Just lay on top of her and thrust his aching flesh in
as he suckled her tits like a ravenous child. God it was good.
Nothing had ever felt this way. So good. So hot and wet and tight. It was fantastic.
And the love...the love made it perfect.
Love elevated this to something far beyond sex. No matter how down and dirty
it got, how many raw words were shouted, the love they shared made it sweet.
His mouth moved over her, licking and tasting, and kissing every inch of her
breasts. His tongue painted circles around her nipples, then flicked rapidly
over them before he took her back in to suck on her again.
As good as it was, he didn't protest when he felt her trying to pry him away
from her breasts. He raised his face and looked at her, seeing what she wanted
in the heated glow of her eyes.
"Kiss me," she said softly.
He covered her mouth with his, and everything around them melted into a vortex
of heat and moist, tender flesh. Her lips were velvet, coaxing and caressing
his tongue as it slid between them to play with hers.
As they kissed, he moved his hand down and began to finger her clit, stroking
it gently, spreading the wetness around on it.
Buffy whimpered, her head jerking back and grinding into the pillow.
"There it is," he said, encouraging her to feel it all. "You know what's coming,
don't you? You know how it'll feel...how it'll pull your soul right out of your
body..."
He rubbed his fingers against that hot, throbbing pleasure spot, pushing down
harder with every thrust of his dick.
Her body was a tensed, arched bow beneath him. She was close, he could feel
it and he could smell it.
"Come on, baby," he said, pinching her gently, "Do it...come for me...you're
so pretty when you come. So sweet and sexy."
Buffy met every thrust, rocking against him, her mind going on temporary walk-about
from everyday life.
"You, too," she choked. "You....come..."
"With you?" he finished. "Oh, I will, baby. I...will..."
It ended with a mutual cry of satisfaction, with a hot, bursting gush of him
inside her, with a tightness clamping around him like a velvet fist, milking
him, draining him.
Spike's arms finally gave out, and he collapsed on top of Buffy with a whispered
apology as every muscle in his body turned to water.
When he felt her little fingers moving gently over him, stroking him, petting
him...he knew she was just fine.
"Love you," he slurred, drifting into sleep, unable to hold it off.
"I love you, too. See you in my dreams?"
"Mm-hmmmm...."
Part Forty...
Buffy woke on Saturday morning to the sound of
music. Rolling over onto her back, she focused her
sleepy eyes on the source.
"Never know how much I love you
Never know how much I care..."
Her lover was lounging in an overstuffed armchair, his
feet propped up on a matching hassock, playing his
'favorite' guitar and singing for her.
Stark naked.
"When you put your arms around me
I get a fever that's so hard to bear
You give me fever....when you kiss me
Fever when you hold me tight..."
This beat the hell out of any alarm clock she'd ever owned. She propped
herself up on one elbow, pushing her hair out of her eyes, studying the delightful
sight before her.
"Fever in the morning
Fever all through the night."
He glanced up and saw her watching him, giving her a
lecherous wink.
"Sun lights up the day time
Moon lights up the night
I light up when you...call my name
And you know I'm gonna treat you right"
His voice was soft and husky, and unbearably intimate
in tone. Rising to his feet, he prowled slowly towards the
bed, never taking his eyes off her.
"You give me fever...when you kiss me
Fever when you hold me tight.."
Moving over a little, Buffy patted the empty spot on the mattress.
"Fever...in the morning
Fever all through the night..."
Spike sat beside her, leaning back against the padded headboard. Giving her a
sidelong look, he played a few bars without singing.
"Now you've listened to my story
Here's the point that I have made
I was born to give you fever
Be it Fahrenheit or centigrade..."
Buffy smiled, trailing one hand across her forehead, then fanning her
face, both actions designed to convey the notion that she was definitely feeling
that fever.
"I'll give you fever, when I kiss you
Fever till you live and learn
Fever....till it sizzles
What a lovely way to burn
Yeah, what a lovely way to burn..."
With a final flourish of his fingers on the strings,
he set the guitar aside and sank his right hand into
Buffy's hair, tugging her head back gently, kissing
her until her toes curled.
"Gee," she said when he pulled back, "if I could
have you wake me up like this every morning...I
would NEVER complain again about having to get up
so early."
Spike chuckled. "We'll have to see what we can
do about that, won't we?"
And before she could even think up a reply to THAT
provocative statement, he was kissing her again, doing
it so well and so thoroughly that all her higher brain
functions ceased to cooperate, leaving instinct and
desire running the show.
Moments later, as he lay on top of her, thrusting gently,
steadily, again and again, he placed his lips against her
ear and half-whispered/half-sang, "What a lovely....lovely
way....to....burn....."
****************************************
San Francisco was putting on a show of beautiful
weather when they stepped out the front doors of the
hotel.
The sun was high in the very blue sky, but it wasn't creating
a blazingly uncomfortable heat. There was just the slightest
hint of a breeze keeping things nice and cool.
It was the sort of day Buffy's grandmother had always
described as "a pretty one".
A valet pulled up in the circular drive and jumped out of a
small two-seater convertible with its top down, then dashed
around and opened the passenger side door for Buffy.
"Another car?" she asked, her eyebrows arching. "Whose
is it this time?"
Spike grinned, handing the valet a folded bill and sliding into
the driver's seat. "Actually....I've been thinking about buying
it. It belongs to one of the road crew and he's been looking to
sell. D'you like it, babe?"
"Yeah, it's adorable. What is it?"
"It's a 1974 MG Midget. Fully restored," he informed her,
pulling out into the light morning traffic. "Just the right
size for you and me, love. No one else."
Buffy reached into her handbag and found an elastic band,
then proceeded to gather up her hair and tie it back.
"Uh-uh," Spike said, grabbing the elastic away from her. "I
love it down...you know that."
She was about to tell him that he wouldn't love it quite
as much if she had to spend the day combing out all
the snarls that the wind would produce, but after that
comment, she didn't really much care.
****************************************
He took her to brunch at a teahouse in Golden Gate
Park, then down to Fisherman's Wharf for a one hour tour
of the bay.
Even though the Wharf was rather looked down on by
some of the city residents as a tacky, "touristy" thing to
do, Buffy enjoyed it immensely. They wandered up and down
it, holding hands, watching the people fishing, and
spending a great deal of time observing the collection of loud
mouthed sea lions basking in the sun just a few feet from them.
Devlin bought her a pair of pearl earrings and a chunk of
driftwood with a hand blown glass sea lion perched on top of
it. Much against her will, he bought small cups of shrimp in
cocktail sauce and fed it to her as they wandered through the
displays of fresh seafood, and it tasted so good that she tried
not to think about the possible sanitation issues.
At a little past four o'clock, they reluctantly headed back to
the hotel.
The evening was more or less a repeat of the one before,
made slightly more poignant by the knowledge that their
time together was coming to an end.
****************************************
"Here, I have a present for you."
Buffy glanced up as Spike came into the bedroom,
holding something behind his back. She placed her
hairbrush down and waited.
"What is it?" she asked with forced cheerfulness.
"Well, it's not all that much," he admitted, pulling a
piece of black fabric from behind him. He shook it out,
revealing a cotton T-shirt with the bands name and
those hypnotic eyes silk screened on it. It looked big
enough to hold three or four people her size.
"I just thought....well, I'd kind of like to imagine you....sleeping in it. Just the shirt, nothing else."
She accepted the gift, smiling up at him. "Oh, honey...I
love that idea. Thank you."
His own smile grew so wide then that she wondered what
on earth she'd said to inspire it. "What?"
"Nothing, it's just...that's the first time you've ever
called me that."
He looked so boyishly pleased by it that Buffy could have
kicked herself for not realizing sooner that she'd never
called him by anything other than his name.
He, on the other hand, was full of affectionate nicknames
for her; sweetheart, baby, angel, and a host of others that
seemed to fall from his lips with natural ease.
"Oh," she said, scolding herself. "I haven't been a very good
girlfriend, have I?"
Spike sat down on the bed next to her. "I wouldn't say that."
Buffy rose to her knees and cupped his face between her
hands. "Will you give me another chance....sweetheart?" she
asked, smoothing her thumbs over his cheekbones.
"Always, baby," he whispered back. "Always."
****************************************
"Okay, San Francisco! You've been fantastic!" Spike
called out from the stage. The crowd responded with a
mad round of applause, cheers and whistles. "We hate to
have to go!"
Oz played a few bars of "I Left My Heart In San Francisco"
and the audience went momentarily wild. It took them a full
two minutes to settle down again.
"I think that means we'll be back," Devlin announced. "But
let's have one more song before we go, huh?"
The crowd was loudly in favor of the suggestion.
"A hundred days had made me older
since the last time that I saw your pretty face.
A thousand lights had made me colder and
I don't think I can look at this the same
But all the miles that separate
disappear now when I'm dreaming of your face..."
Sitting again on the stool offstage, Buffy listened attentively. She'd not heard
this one before.
"I'm here without you, baby
But you're still on my lonely mind
I think about you, baby
And I dream about you all the time
"I'm here without you, baby
But you're still with me in my dreams
And tonight...it's only you and me..."
The lyrics were hauntingly evocative, spelling out their immediate future quite
clearly.
"The miles just keep rolling
as the people leave their way to say hello
I hear this life is over-rated
But I hope that this gets better as we go
I'm here without you, baby
But you're still on my lonely mind
I think about you, baby
And I dream about you all the time..."
Tears misted her eyes, blurring her vision for a moment.
"Everything I know, and anywhere I go
It gets hard but it won't take away my love
And when the last one falls, when it's all said and done
It gets hard but it won't take away my love..."
Moving across the stage, every turn of his body
was natural and spontaneous as he sang to a
rapt and adoring audience.
Buffy sat there, watching the man she loved across
a vast distance, slightly numb with a force of
confused emotions.
"I'm here without you, baby
But you're still on my lonely mind
I think about you, baby
And I dream about you all the time..."
For a moment, Buffy sincerely regretted ever coming to San Francisco.
They would both be leaving tomorrow, but going in opposite directions.
It was going to hurt. Badly. Maybe even more than
it had the first time.
How would she survive it? Had she been blindly
oblivious to the reality, not wanting to examine it too
closely lest it overwhelm her, thinking that nothing
external could come between them?
This wasn't something they could pretend wasn't
there. The fame and fortune, all the women who
adored him, the physical separation of two people
who lived in vastly different worlds. These things
were a cold, hard fact.
Spike Devlin and an audience were a perfect match,
a symbiont of energy and passion, feeding from each
other. The last thing in the world she wanted to do
was hold him back.
But where would she fit in?
"I think about you, baby
But you're still with me in my dreams
And tonight, girl
It's only you and me...."
She was so preoccupied, she didn't notice the
ear drum bursting roar from the crowd, had no idea
that the concert was over. The noise was fuzzy and
indistinct, and she wouldn't have been able to tell
whether they were applauding or throwing old shoes.
It wasn't until she felt a hand on her cheek that she
left off her unhappy musings.
"Hey...you all right, love?"
His voice was concerned, so she did her best to
respond the right way.
"I'm just fine, sweetheart," she said softly, leaning
against him and sighing deeply. "Just fine."
If he didn't believe her, he showed no outward sign
of it. "Want to go and get something to eat...or go back
to the hotel?"
"Let's do both," she said. "I've been dying for a little
room service."
Predictably, one eyebrow arched teasingly. "I think
I can provide that."
Part Forty-one.....
Hi, baby.....bet you didn't expect to be hearing from me
quite so soon, did you? Well, I wrote this last night and
slipped it into your bag this morning while you were
brushing your teeth and doing all those other things you do
that makes you smell so good all the time.
See, I couldn't sleep last night. Not that you didn't tire me
out, because you always do....and I always love it. But
I just couldn't seem to close my eyes.
All I wanted to do was lie next to you and watch you
sleep, and memorize every part of you.
So, I did that for a while, taking you in...breathing you in. I
needed to do that, luv. I want to imprint you on my brain and
in my memory....everything about you....your face and your
voice, the feel of your hair and your skin....the warmth of your
breath....your touch.
By the time you're reading this, I'll be on my way to Seattle
and wondering what the hell I'm doing....why am I going
in the wrong direction?
Why aren't I on that plane with you, holding your hand and
telling you that we'll be on the ground soon, and then have
you tell me that that's NOT what you wanted to hear right
after take off....
What am I doing, Buffy? Why am I moving away from you
when everything inside of me is screaming to move towards
you. God, this is all starting to feel like the biggest mistake
I've ever made, going on this tour.
And, baby....how am I going to make it all the way to the
end? I wish someone could tell me that, because I don't
understand it....and I don't know if I can do it.
Last night, after we made love, you fell asleep with your
body pressed against mine. That's just the most perfect
feeling in the world, holding you after loving you like that.
The way you give yourself over to me, the way you trust me
to hold you...and keep you warm...and keep you safe...is
everything to me.
You know, baby, I had all the usual expectations that other
people have while growing up. I always thought I knew
what I wanted, and that I'd know it when I found it.
Of course, I wanted to sing. I didn't much care about being
famous or wealthy...although it didn't sound bad...as long
as I could sing, and play, and have people want to hear it.
I figured someday I'd meet the right girl and fall in love,
then do all the usual things...the house, the picket fence,
the kids and maybe a couple of dogs. And even though
I'd never felt it before, I assumed I'd know love when it came
along.
And then.....there was you. Dropping into my life, making
everything shiny and new. I knew then....I knew it was here.
The very thing I'd hoped would happen...did, and it's been
even better than anything I could have dreamed of or asked
for.
I'm not sure there's a word for this feeling, but it's not love.
It's so far beyond that word....so much more...and I don't
ever want to be without it, be without you. Nothing else will
make me as happy as you do, baby.
Yeah, singing makes me happy, but Buffy....you're the reason
I sing.
It's you, baby. It'll always be you.
How can I sing now? How do I get around this pain in my
throat, this huge aching mass of missing you, needing you,
and wanting you?
Jesus, Buffy...I haven't even left you yet and it's killing me.
Knowing that I don't have a choice doesn't make it any
easier. There are a lot of people depending on me and I
have to go through with it. Jobs are riding on it, and a
hell of a lot of money...and I don't care, Buffy, I really
don't care.
Is it bad that I don't care? That all I want to do is turn
around and head for home....just crawl into your arms
and never come out again.
Am I a terrible person for wanting to tell the entire rest of
the world to go to hell? To leave me alone and let me be
with you for as long as I can, as long as I live and breathe.
Baby, I don't mean to dump all this on you, and I don't
want you to be unhappy or to worry about me. I'll get along
somehow and then, when this is all over...I'll come home to
you.
After that....well, we're going to have to figure something out
honey, because I can't go through this again. Not ever.
I'll call you every day, baby. And I'll write to you, too. And
every time I sing, I'll sing for you...even though you can't hear
it.
God, this is hard. It really hurts, the thought of being without you. How can that be after knowing you for such a
short time?
Sweetheart, do you realize that we just met ten days ago?
I feel like we've lived a lifetime in those ten days, don't
you? How is it possible to love someone so much after
ten short days?
And how the hell did I get so damn lucky?
To love you, and to have you love me back is a lifetimes
worth of luck. I'll never ask for another thing, because I
already have this beautiful, precious love that I'll cherish
forever. All because of you, baby.
You're the one, Buffy. You're my light and my life, my
shining star...and I will go down on my knees and thank
God every day for giving you to me.
Don't you forget about me, love. Hold me in your heart,
the way I'll hold you in mine.....
All my love forever,
Spike
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With her hand trembling a little, Buffy set the letter
down on her kitchen table.
Her own throat was tight with the same pain Spike
had described as her thoughts slid back to their parting
moments at the airport.
*******************************
She hadn't expected him to take her. Rather, she'd
thought he'd say goodbye in the suite and then hand
her over to the limousine driver.
But he'd made arrangements, allowing himself sufficient
time to go along with her, to make sure she got on the
right plane and to beg her not to take more than one of
Willow's motion sickness pills.
Truthfully, Buffy hadn't intended to take any at all. The
fear of a plane crash had been too deeply overshadowed
by the sadness looming in front of her. There was no pill
in the world that could help ease the pain of separation.
They hadn't spoken much on the ride to the airport. She
had no interest in looking out the window, of taking one
last look at San Francisco.
Their hands had stayed tightly clasped together, even when
they became sweaty and sticky from the close contact. Every
so often, he would give hers a gentle squeeze and she would
return the pressure.
Traffic was light, and it hadn't taken long for them to reach
their destination.
Once again, she'd trailed after him through the confusing maze
of corridors, escalators, and moving sidewalks.
Her feet felt as heavy as her heart, and she'd dragged them
along on nothing more than sheer will, forcing them to carry
her to a place she didn't want to go.
She hadn't cried. No matter how badly she'd wanted
to....needed to....she hadn't given in to tears. Things were
bad enough without her turning into a weepy mess.
After checking her in and depositing her luggage on the
conveyor belt, Spike had steered her in the direction of the
departure lounge. There were surprisingly few travelers,
and they sat together alone, close to the window.
Waiting for her flight to be called had been agonizing.
She'd actually begun to feel like a prisoner waiting to be
escorted to the gas chamber. Knowing what was ahead,
and dreading it, had stretched her last nerve nearly to
its breaking point.
Casting about in her mind for something to say that would
lighten the gloomy pall surrounding them, she had fallen
back on idle small talk.
She'd made her voice sound reasonably cheerful as she'd
said, "It looks like it's going to rain."
Spike had glanced out the window. "Might."
"Maybe they won't be able to take off," she'd added,
only half teasing.
There'd been a long pause, then he had released a
deep sigh. "Planes take off in this all the time. The
pilots are used to it. Don't worry."
Still keeping a 'stiff upper lip' she'd smiled. "Oh, I'm
not worried. I'm an experienced flyer now."
That comment had drawn a slight smile out of
him. "Yeah, that's you," he'd said. "Little world
traveler, aren't you?"
"Mm-hmm. Ready to join the jet set. Spring in Paris.
Winter in Monte Carlo. Summer in....."
"Summer in where?"
"I don't know. Where does the jet set GO in the
summer?"
He'd opened his mouth to reply, then a slight 'pop'
from the intercom had startled them, making them
tense up, only relaxing when a tinny sounding voice
had informed them that a non-stop flight to Chicago
was boarding at another gate.
That small scare had banished all their forced levity.
Spike had given in to the need first. Slipping his arm
around her, he'd pulled her out of her chair and into his
lap, wrapping her in an embrace that felt almost
desperate.
Buffy still hadn't allowed herself to cry. She'd leaned
against him, stroking her hand up and down his arm.
His arms had tightened convulsively. "I love you," he'd
whispered.
Her emotions had come dangerously close to spilling
out of her, but she'd kept them firmly in check. "I
love you, too."
"Buffy...."
She'd waited for a count of ten, then prompted him
to continue. "What?"
Gathering his thoughts, he'd tried to speak.
"Tell me," she'd coaxed gently.
Spike had shaken his head. "I...I love you,"
he'd said again, unable to articulate anything
else.
He'd been visibly struggling for the things he'd
wanted to say, and it really wasn't like him to
behave that way.
Spike was always so brash and confident, so
certain of himself. He had a quick wit combined
with a boyish charm, and was never at a loss for
words.
From the day she'd met him, he'd been a force of
nature; striding into her life and shaking it to its
foundations, telling her exactly what he wanted,
that he expected to get it, and that he wasn't
about to take 'no' for an answer.
Seeing him so helpless in the grip of his emotions
had nearly broken Buffy's heart, reinforcing her own
resolve to be strong.
"I love you, too." She cupped his cheek in her hand
and tilted his face, leaning down to kiss him. "You're
mine, you know."
"I know." He had nodded, swallowing hard. "You're
mine."
"Always will be."
There'd been another long moment of silence.
"This is harder than I thought it would be," he had
whispered.
The pain of holding back her tears had made her
head throb.
"Yes," she had agreed. "But I'm still glad I came."
Another jerky nod. "Me, too."
The anguish inside him was becoming evident in his
voice by that time, and Buffy had suddenly wanted
her flight to be called so as not to draw out the misery
any further.
Her own pain, she could deal with...later. But she
couldn't bear seeing his.
Five minutes later, she got her wish.
"I guess that's me," she'd said, climbing off his lap
and bending to pick up her handbag.
"Yeah." He'd stood up and pulled her into his
arms. "Buffy..."
"I know," she'd murmured, stroking the back of his
head. "Kiss me goodbye, now."
Taking in a ragged breath, he'd captured her mouth
beneath his. Arms tight around her, he'd lifted her clear
off the floor, kissing her with all the fervor of someone
desperate to hold on and never let go.
She'd had to push him away, and he hadn't made it
easy.
His hands had clutched at her as he'd strained to get
close once again. "Wait.." he'd begged. "Just....not
yet...please....Buffy, don't...."
Nearly overwhelmed by what was happening, she'd
disentangled herself and begun to back away,
joining the line of people waiting to board.
There was a rope on either side, the kind usually seen
in a bank or a movie theater, and he'd followed her
on his side of it, holding on to her hand.
"I'll call you tonight," he'd promised. "And when I
get to Seattle."
"All right." Her hand had slipped from out of his. "I'll
talk to you then."
"Okay....yes, and I...I love you." He'd raised his voice
as she'd moved further away. "Baby, I love you. I love
you so much. You...you remember that, okay? Will
you, Buffy?"
"Yes," she'd said. "I'll remember...and I love you, too!"
She'd thrown him a kiss and then turned to merge with the
other passengers.
"Buffy!" he'd called loudly, making her turn her head to
look at him. "Don't ever stop loving me!"
"Never," she'd promised, waving one more time and then
looking away, not wanting to see him turn and walk
off.
She was biting her lower lip, trying again to hold off the
flood of tears she'd needed to cry, determined not to look
back....but unable to stop herself.
What she'd seen had almost been more than she could
bear. He'd backed off about fifteen yards and was staring
in her direction. His chest was rising and falling in deep,
painful looking breaths, and his hand was over his heart,
as though it would shatter apart inside of him should he let
go.
Her own heart had been thudding in her chest as
she'd turned away. The people in front of her had
moved forward a few feet and then stopped when the
line stalled for some reason.
"Buffy! Buffy....wait!"
She'd whirled around, shocked to see him practically
running towards her, bumping into people without a word
of apology.
Buffy had stepped back, allowing the people behind her
to go ahead..
Staying on the outside of the rope, Spike had grabbed her
and pulled her back into his arms, burying his face against
the side of her neck.
"I can't do it," he'd said softly, shaking his head and
burrowing closer. "I can't, Buffy...I can't let you...let
you just leave me. I....I don't want to go anymore. I
don't...I need you..."
She'd wrapped her arms around him, holding him close,
and then had nearly lost all her hard won control when
she'd felt the hot moisture on her skin and realized that
he was......
Pulling away, she'd looked into his eyes...those beautiful
blue eyes that were always so sharp and clear...and
found them wet with tears.
It was more than she could stand. She'd placed her hands
on his cheeks and pulled him down to her. "Spike....I
have to go."
"No," he'd shaken his head, unwilling to accept her
words.
"Yes," she'd insisted. "And you have to go, too."
"I can't." Another shake of his head. "I can't do it."
"Yes, you can." She'd brushed her thumbs across his
cheeks, wiping the tears away. "You can."
He'd looked at her, then down at the floor, then back
at her. "How?" he had asked, as though she truly had
the answers. "How can I live without you? Tell me
how....and I'll try."
Sadly, there'd been nothing she could tell him.
She had no idea how.
***********************************
She hadn't cried on the plane. She'd just stared
out the window with dry eyes that didn't really see
anything.
The limousine driver had met her at the gate, fetched
her luggage and then driven her home...and still she
hadn't cried.
Her control stayed with her into the evening. At
seven o'clock she showered and then stretched out
on her bed.
Finally, she gave in to the blessed relief, allowing
it to wash over her, to engulf her.
Hot, scalding tears slipped slowly down her cheeks
and soaked her pillow.
Starting quietly, her sobs rose in intensity when
she realized what was happening. She was crying
too hard to do anything about it other than lie on the
bed, her entire frame shuddering with every wave of
cramps and every rush of blood.
Part Forty-two...
All alone in what felt like a ridiculously over sized
bed, Buffy missed him. The little snatches of sleep
she fell into weren't enough to even start a halfway
decent dream, and when she was awake, all she
did was think about him and sniffle.
Her back ached horribly from her period, and she
would have loved nothing better than to cuddle
into Spike's warmth. Although she'd known that
she was at the wrong end of the month for conception, she still had a vaguely let down feeling.
Unable to pin it on anything else. she attributed
that to Spike's departure as well.
The phone ringing was a welcome distraction, even
at 10:00 pm. "Hello?"
"Hey, baby...."
**Thank god**
"Spike...hi. Are you in Seattle?"
"Um, no....we're about 100 miles out. Bus got a flat,
and we had to wait around for that to get fixed."
She smiled. "For a big important star like you they
should send out a new one."
"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" He paused a moment,
then said, "Listen, love...I'm sorry I was such a mess at
the airport. I just....I hated the idea of being so far away
from you."
"Spike..." She could feel her throat tighten at the
memory. "I wasn't any better off than you were, believe
me."
"Didja find the letter?"
"Yes. It was beautiful."
"Well....I meant every word of it. Gonna write another
song. Just for you. Would you like that, sweetheart?"
"So much." She nodded, forgetting for a moment that
he couldn't see her. "Make it a pretty one."
"Pretty as you are? No problem."
Buffy caught a glance of herself in the wall mirror. Pretty
did not really describe the way she looked at the moment.
Her hair was a mess, her make up was smeared around
her eyes like a raccoon, and her clothes were rumpled from
sleep. "Ugh," she said softly, sticking her tongue out at
her reflection. "To be honest, I look pretty hideous at the
moment."
There was a short silence, then Spike asked, "What's
wrong?"
"Nothing." Buffy's fingers tightened on the handset. "I
just miss you."
"I miss you, too, baby....now tell me what's wrong?"
"What do you mean?" she hedged.
"Just what I said. You sound out of sorts. Are you sick?"
He sounded like he was looking for an excuse to hop
the next plane back, and she briefly considered letting
him do just that.
She sighed. "Of course not," she said, matter-of-factly. "I
just...my period started is all. It makes me a little....out
of sorts."
"Oh."
Was it her imagination, or did he sound disappointed?
He suddenly chuckled, a sound that sent warmth all the way
through her. "Better luck next time, right?"
"Wha...what did you say?" **Please hold while I
find a tape recorder, or a court stenographer..**
After a pause, she heard him take a deep breath. "I
said....maybe I'll have better luck next time."
"At what?"
"At what do you think?"
God, this man could be frustrating! "I don't know. How
would I know?"
"Well, I'm not talking about a lottery scratch off,
love. Come on....don't tell me you've never thought
about it?"
"About.....?"
She heard him exhale heavily.
"You really like it all down in black and white, don't you?"
he muttered, then spoke up. "About having a baby."
Buffy shoved her face into her pillow and screamed, then
placed the phone back to her ear and spoke calmly. "You
mean....you and me?"
"What?!" He laughed. "No, 'course not. I meant the pandas
at the Washington Zoo. I read in the paper here that
they're trying to do the deed, but no soap."
"Spike..."
"Performance anxiety. That's the problem. I mean, just
imagine trying to make love to your girlfriend while some
git in a lab coat is standing on the sidelines, waiting to
stick a thermometer up her...."
"Spike!"
"Yes, darling?"
She couldn't help it, she had to laugh. "Stop teasing me."
"But it's so much fun."
"For YOU."
"Yeah, for me. Now tell me you love me."
Buffy smiled. "I love you."
"Now tell me that you want...shhhhhhssssss...uch as I
do, baby!"
"What?" She strained her ears as hard as she could. "I
didn't get that? Spike?"
She heard a loud hiss and pop, then several clicks....
"..... uffy? Can you hear..........." Static crackled.
"No," she almost shouted. "I...I can't hear you! Spike!"
After another round of hissing and clicking, his voice
cleared. ".....you when I get there, okay? Love you,
baby!"
"Spike! Wait. I can hear..." The line went dead. "...you
now."
Buffy slammed the phone back into its cradle, uttering
a word she'd only used once in her life before, and not
a bit sorry for it.
********************************
Ring-ring.....ring-ring......
"Hello?"
"Baby, I'm sorry," a voice whispered. "I know it's late but
we just got in and I had to make sure you were okay. You
feeling any better?"
Buffy rubbed her eyes and peered at the bedside clock. "Yeah,
I'm fine. Why are you whispering?"
"Oh, there was a mix up with the hotel and I'm sharing
the room with Oz."
"No fancy suite this time?"
"Supposed to be, but no. Listen, darling...you go back
to sleep and I'll call you tomorrow, okay? Are you going
to work?"
"Um...yeah. Of course."
"Of course," he echoed. "That's my sensible Miss Buffy.
Talk to you tomorrow, then. I love you."
"I love you, too."
She hung up the phone and stared at the ceiling.
There were times she really hated sensible Miss Buffy.
*****************************************
He called the next day during the lunch break, but
was only able to talk for a few minutes when he
was called away to solve some sort of lyrics dispute
before, as he said, Xander and Andy came to blows
over it.
She didn't hear from him again until after his performance, and he sounded so tired that she didn't want
to keep him on the phone too long.
Over the next few days, Blue Eyed Devil traveled from
Seattle to Salt Lake City to Denver. Buffy only got hurried
phone calls reporting their progress, since they were moving
so quickly.
On Friday afternoon, he called the school. Buffy was
waiting for it.
"Hey, I have a surprise for you!" she announced. "Wait."
She ran back to her class and assembled them into a
semi-orderly line, then marched them down to Willow's
office where she pushed the speaker button on the phone
and nodded at them.
"Hi, Spike!" they chorused, fairly in voice with one
another.
Buffy heard him laugh. "Hi, kids. You being good for
Miss Buffy?"
She shook her head and gave them a teasingly baleful
look, but they knew that one and just giggled.
"They learned a new song," she said. "Do you have
time to hear it?"
She'd warned them that he might not, had tried to
explain how busy he was on this tour, but like children
everywhere they'd chosen to believe otherwise.
"Of course I do," he said, justifying their faith. "Let me
hear it, guys!"
Buffy led them through a slightly off key verse of 'This
Land Is Your Land', and when they were finished, she
held up a hand for silence so they could hear him.
"That was wonderful!" he said loudly. In the background
she could hear a lot of whistling and clapping. "Everybody
here liked it!"
"How could THEY hear?" Samantha asked, tugging on
Buffy's sleeve.
"I put you all on the speaker," Spike answered. "Thank you
for the song, all of you. I miss you."
The entire group of children babbled out different
versions of "We miss you, too."
Willow escorted them back to their classroom, and Buffy took
the phone off speaker. "Did you like that?"
"I sure did, baby. That's the nicest thing I've heard all
day. I can't tell you how....what? I don't know...ask..."
On her end, Buffy heard someone talking to him. "You'd
better go."
"Yeah, I guess. Sounds like I've gotta knock a couple of
heads together. Guess whose I mean?"
Before ending the call he advised her to keep an eye out
for some mail he'd be sending, stressed that it was very
important, then completely exasperated her by making
kissing sounds and hanging up when she tried to pry
more information out of him.
**********************************
Buffy finished out the rest of her day in the best mood
she'd been in all week.
After sending the last little one out the door with his
parents, she tidied her classroom, locked up for the
weekend and said goodbye to Willow.
The tingly sensations skittering up and down her
spine made her step a little bouncier and her voice
a little cheerier as she went about the mundane
chores of living.
She dropped off some clothes to be dry cleaned, then
ran into the market and did her shopping for the week.
Before heading home, she stopped to fill her gas tank.
The station she frequented was across the parking
lot of 'Sunnydale Savings and Loan', and she turned
her back quickly when she saw Riley Finn exit the
building and get into his car, hoping he wouldn't
notice her.
The last thing she wanted at that moment was for
Riley to see her and ask her out.
**Nice guy, that Riley,** she thought, watching him
drive away. **Just not the RIGHT guy...**
Someday soon she'd have to lay her cards
on the table with him, let him know that friendship
was all they would ever have together. It wasn't
fair to let him think otherwise, and she wasn't going
to spend the rest of her life devising excuses for
turning down his invitations to dinner and a movie.
Soon....but not today. Today her thoughts were all
for Spike Devlin, and she wasn't about to let anything
interfere with them.
************************************
As she stood on the front porch, juggling her packages
while simultaneously searching for her keys, she saw
that the mailbox had a package in it. She shoved the
door open, dropped everything she was carrying on the
floor and retrieved it.
It was a thick mailing envelope, with her address
written in black marking pen. She slit open
the end, then tilted it, catching the contents in
her hand.
A videotape. Plain, black, standard everyday
videotape. The only clue to what might be on it
was a post it sticker, its message written in the same
hand as the envelope.
Watch me!
"Okay." Obediently, she popped the tape into
the VCR, turned on the television, and pressed
'Play'.
Part Forty-three:
The first part of the tape was nothing but
scratchy static. She waited patiently and when
she was just about to hit the fast forward button,
the static cleared and she was presented with a
large number five.
As she watched, the five changed to a four,
then to a three, then a two, then skipped right
over the number one.
Perplexed, she watched the opening credits
of something called "A.M. in Seattle". It turned
out to be a typical morning show, part news and
part nonsense.
She hadn't the faintest idea why she'd been in-
structed to watch it until the perky blonde news-
caster, who seemed revoltingly happy for someone
up at such a wretched hour of the morning, turned
to talk to the entertainment editor, Paula Collins.
A slow smile began to form on Buffy's face when
Ms. Collins informed all of Seattle that she'd scored
an exclusive interview with a very hot new band
that was selling out venues faster than they could be
booked.
Buffy grabbed the remote and zapped through all
the filler, only stopping when Collins reappeared on
the screen.
She waited patiently as the woman described the
rapid rise of 'Blue Eyed Devil', raved about all their
number one hits, then introduced a few snippets of
concert footage.
When Spike appeared on screen, Buffy's heart began
to skip along with the beat of the music. She'd heard
the song several times, but she couldn't take her eyes
off the lead singer.
The film had been taken the previous night, when
the band had performed at the Key Arena....which
Buffy was informed was the home of the Seattle Supersonics.
As the camera panned the large crowd, she was
amazed at what she was seeing. This place was three
times the size of the theater in San Francisco, and it
looked like it was pretty filled up with people happy
to be there.
The interview was being conducted backstage in
a room that looked a lot like the one she and Spike
had made use of in San Francisco.
Ms. Collins chatted briefly with each of them, and
they responded as their individual personalities
dictated; Oz was quiet and succinct, Xander remained
funny and ebullient, and every other word Andy uttered
was bleeped out.
Spike, though, was the real spokesman of the foursome,
the frontman with the information everyone wanted to
know. His eyes flashed with humor and energy as he
fielded questions about how it felt to be such a fast rising
star in the world of rock and roll music, a world that never
stopped in one place for very long.
Buffy, whose heart and soul had been aching from
his absence, was transfixed, hanging on every word he
spoke.
Ms. Collins then made a joking comment about all the
young girls that were screaming for them in the audience,
asking them if they were enjoying that sort of attention.
Oz just shrugged, while Andy and Xander agreed
wholeheartedly that it was one of the best side effects
yet.
"But don't ask Spike," Xander added in a stage
whisper. "He's sort of...spoken for."
The camera panned over to Spike, who was actually
looking a little sleepy and uninterested in the direction
of the interview.
"Is that right?" Ms. Collins asked him in a flirty way
that made Buffy frown.
Spike didn't hesitate to reply. "Very much spoken for," he
said quietly, then practically yawned in the woman's
face. "I've got a beautiful girl waiting for me that I can't
wait to go home to."
The interviewer looked slightly miffed, then turned her
attention to the remainder of the band for the rest of her
segment.
Buffy couldn't help herself. She rewound the tape four
times, just to hear him say it again.
When the entertainment segment was over, she nearly
shut off the tape. A few seconds later, it went briefly black,
then flickered back on.
This time though, Spike was the only one on film. She
saw him move backwards, as though he'd just pushed
the 'record' button, then he moved in front of the
lens.
"Hi, baby," he said softly, seating himself on a stool
in what looked to be his hotel room. "I had one of the
road crew tape the interview for you, and then I thought
I'd tack this on at the end. I wrote it for you, love."
"Another one for me?" she asked out loud, as though
he was sitting right there and could answer her.
And then, to her complete and upper amazement, he
did!
"You're my muse, sweetheart. They're all for you now."
he said, leaning over and picked up his guitar...his favorite,
his first...and strumming it, picking out another lovely
melody.
"Whenever I'm alone with you, you make me
feel like I am home again
Whenever I'm alone with you, you make me
feel like I am whole again
Whenever I'm alone with you, you make me
feel like I am young again
Whenever I'm alone with you, you make me
feel like I am fun again..."
The song was so beautiful it brought tears to her
eyes.
"However far away, I will always love you
However long I stay, I will always love you
Whatever words I say, I will always love you
I will always love you...."
This was definitely going to be her favorite. Not just
the song itself, but the way he was looking into the
camera, looking straight at her. The light in his eyes
was taking her breath away.
"Whenever I'm alone with you, you make me
feel like I am free again
Whenever I'm alone with you, you make me
feel like I am clean again
However far away, I will always love you
However long I stay, I will always love you
Whatever words I say, I will always love you
I will always love you...."
When the song ended, he put his guitar down
and looked back at her. "I sure do miss you,
kitten. Listen, I don't suppose there's a chance I
could talk you into quitting your job and coming
along with me, is there?"
His tone was light, but if he'd been standing right
there at the moment, she'd probably be racing
upstairs to pack her bags.
He laughed a bit, and his eyes were so soft...the
curve of his mouth so tender...that she could almost
taste the sweet way he kissed her.
"I know the little ones need Miss Buffy," he went
on, shrugging his shoulders, "but I need her, too."
Pausing for a moment, he then took a deep breath.
"I'd even be willing to sweeten the deal....with a
big diamond ring."
She wasn't sure what it said about her state of mind,
but it took her a full thirty seconds to realize what
he'd just said.
"What? What did you say?" she squealed. Groping
for the remote, she accidentally hit the 'off' button,
cursed at the gadget, then punched 'play' and 'rewind'.
"....be willing to sweeten the deal with a great big
diamond ring."
"Oh, my god...he....did he...he DID...didn't he?"
"...I know, I know...we haven't been together long
enough, have we?" Spike said then. "All right, I
won't push you into something you aren't ready for,
love. But...when you are....it's going to be me."
"Well...well wait a minute," Buffy answered, for-
getting in the surrealism of the moment that he
wasn't actually there. "Just wait...I might be
ready...I mean, I hadn't thought about it before,
but...but..."
"Anyway, baby," he said, "I hope you liked the
song, and think about what I said, all right? Will
you do that for me? Maybe you might have an
answer next time we talk? Goodnight, love."
He leaned forward, the screen went fuzzy.....
And the telephone rang.
Part Forty-four:
The phone startled her so badly that she shot three
feet in the air and dropped the remote once again.
It hit the floor, took a bad bounce, and somehow activated the volume button. The soft buzz of the snowy
screen turned into a booming shriek that made the
television's speakers vibrate and crackle.
Dropping to her knees, Buffy punched the off button
on the front of the TV, then dove for the phone.
"Hello?" she nearly sang.
"Buffy? Hi, it's Riley Finn. How are you?"
Her heart, which had been soaring with the eagles,
took a sudden turn for mother earth.
"Oh, hi, Riley," she said, forcing herself to remain polite
in the manner her mother had never ceased drilling into
her. "I'm fine. How about you?"
"Fine, too, thanks for asking." He cleared his throat. "I
saw you earlier...you were filling up your car?"
So much for not being noticed.
"Really?" she asked, trying to sound surprised. "Well..what
do you know about that?" Buffy rolled her eyes, disgusted
at how lame she sounded.
On the other end of the line, Riley chuckled. "Actually...it
got me to thinking that it's been a while since we got
together...." His voice trailed off, a clear hint in his tone.
Buffy closed her eyes tight, rubbing her forehead. "Oh, yes,
I guess so." She just was not in the mood for this discussion
at the moment. "Um...I can't really make plans right now,
Riley," she added, shifting from one foot to the other, wishing
she'd let the machine field this call for her. "I'm just so busy."
"Oh.."
He sounded disappointed, and she began to feel
guilty. Riley was a good man, one of the few still out
there. He'd always treated her well, and he deserved the
same consideration.
"But," she went on, hoping she was going to be able
to do what had to be done without chickening out. "I did
want to talk to you about...something. Maybe...."
"Well, great," he interrupted, his voice cheering right
up. "How about dinner tonight?"
There was no way she could have dinner with Riley. She
knew that as clearly as she knew her name and address.
Sitting in a restaurant, waiting for the right moment to
bring up the fact that she had no further interest in pursuing
any relationship other than a casually friendly one...the very
thought of it made her stomach tighten in protest.
"Well, dinner won't really work for me," she said quickly. "I
sort of already have plans....but maybe we could meet for
coffee?"
He hesitated, then said, "Sure, all right. Coffee would be
great. I can pick you up and..."
"No," she cut him off. "I'll meet you at the Espresso Pump...if
that's all right?"
"Okay, sure. What time?"
She glanced at the clock, surprised to see that it was nearly
6:30. "An hour?" That would work well for her. She could
get it over and done with, and get home early...just in case
Spike called.
Buffy dressed carefully for her meeting (she refused to
call it a date, and appointment sounded like she was
seeing him for a job interview) with Riley.
She didn't want to give him the impression that she was
trying to attract him by dressing the way she might were
she meeting Spike instead, so she reverted back to old
habits and took the 'prim and proper' approach.
After donning a slim denim skirt and a pale blue
sweater, she applied a light amount of make up and
put up her hair into a neat french braid. She skipped any
sort of fragrance, and the only jewelry she wore was the
silver bracelet watch her mother had given her for her
twenty-first birthday.
When she was satisfied with her appearance, she
grabbed her keys, locked up the house, and drove
downtown.
Parking on the street was scarce, and she drove past
'the Pump' and headed for the public parking garage on
the next block. After grabbing a ticket from the machine,
she swung into the first available space, her tiny car
dwarfed on either side by SUVs designed to transport a
family of at least twelve.
Riley was waiting for her, sitting at one of the outside
tables. He smiled as she walked towards him, rising to
his feet and pulling out the chair next to his.
'Hey, Buffy...you look great." He leaned over to drop a kiss
on her cheek.
"Thanks, Riley," she said quietly, making herself accept
the brief contact. "You, too."
It was a true statement. Riley Finn was a handsome man,
there was no denying it, and most women would probably
think her mad as a March Hare for telling him what she
was here to tell him.
His eyes, a steady, clear gray, looked into hers with frank
admiration as he grinned a little shyly.
Buffy sat down and scooted her chair in, setting her
purse on the ground beside her.
"I waited to order,' Riley said, sitting down himself and
handing her a menu with an extensive list of the various
coffee drinks offered.
But Buffy had no interest in experimenting with exotic
flavors or outlandish concoctions. When the waitress
appeared, she ordered a plain cup of coffee.
With a brief look of surprise, Riley did the same.
"So," he said, after the waitress departed. "You've
been well?"
Inwardly, Buffy groaned. She also had no interest in
the making of small talk, but the situation required it.
"I have been, yes."
They bantered back and forth for a few minutes, then
Riley gave her the opening she'd been hoping for.
"Look, I was wondering," he said, giving her one of his
guileless grins, "the bank is hosting a charity event. It's
a banquet for MADD...uh...with dancing after," he added
quickly, as though sweetening the deal. "And I'd really enjoy
it if you'd agree to accompany me."
This was all she had to hear. "Thank you for asking..."
She hesitated, and he sat back in his chair. "Why do I get
the feeling I'm about to be shot right out of the sky?" he asked,
his expression registering visible disappointment. "There's
a 'but' coming, isn't there?"
"Well.....yes." The waitress arrived with their coffee, and
Buffy waited until she was gone to continue. "I can't go out
with you, Riley."
"You can't go to the banquet...or not at all?"
"Not at all."
Giving her an appraising look, he took a sip of his
coffee. "Let me guess...there's someone else." It wasn't
a question.
"Yes."
"And it's serious?"
"Yes. Very serious."
She felt completely confident that it was. Men
who weren't serious surely didn't drop tantalizing hints
about diamond rings, no matter what her mother had
said about some of them using every trick in the book in
order to "get into a girl's pants."
That argument had no basis in fact. Spike had been into
her pants long before he'd brought up the jewelry angle,
so tricks were hardly necessary.
"Mind if I ask who? I mean...it hasn't been THAT long since
we went out, and you're already serious?"
Buffy detected a definite note of disapproval in Riley's
tone. Forgetting completely that she would have felt the
same way not that long ago, she immediately went on the
defense.
"It happened very suddenly, and it's no one you know. He's
a....a musician."
Riley's brows arched. "A musician? You mean classical? He's
with an orchestra?"
"No," she shook her head. "Not classical. And he's with a
band."
"Well...what instrument does he play?"
"Guitar," she murmured.
Now he really looked surprised. "The guitar?" he echoed. "You
mean...this is a ROCK band?"
He looked highly amused, which only irritated her. "I don't see
what's so funny about it," she said. "Yes, it's a rock band. He plays
the lead guitar AND he's the lead singer. In fact...it's HIS band."
Riley held up both hands in a 'whoa, slow down' gesture. "Okay,
okay...I didn't mean anything by it."
"Yes, I can see that."
"Buffy..." He reached across the table and took her hand. "I mean
it, I'm sorry. You just never struck me as the 'rock and roll groupie'
type."
It was quite possibly the worst phrase he could have used. Her
head snapped up and she snatched her hand back. "I'm not a
groupie of ANY type," she informed him. "And I don't understand
where you get off making that kind of comment anyway. You
don't know me all THAT well, Riley."
He tried to placate her. "Okay, you're right. I'm sorry...that was
out of line."
She nodded. "Yes, more than a little bit."
"I know. And I AM sorry. Okay?"
He smiled at her, a boyishly charming grin that would make most
women's knees quiver...IF they'd never been on the receiving end
of one of Spike Devlin's smiles.
Appreciating his sincerity, she allowed herself to be mollified. "For-
given."
"Good." He settled back in his chair and picked up his coffee
cup. "So...what's his name, if it's not too nosy a question?"
Buffy hesitated, fairly sure that her answer was going to set off
another display of the 'you've gotta be kidding mes'. "Spike,"
she answered succinctly. "Spike Devlin."
"Spike Devlin?" Riley straightened up in his chair. "From 'Blue
Eyed Devil'? THAT Spike Devlin?"
"You...you've heard of them?" She didn't know why she was
surprised. Half the world had heard of them by now.
"Yeah, of course," he said, nodding. "They're great. I have
their CDs. Did you....you must have met him when they were
at Union Jack's?"
"That's right, I did. " He looked so impressed that, for a moment,
she was certain he was about to ask her if she could get him an
autograph. "A couple of weeks ago, and then I...." She was about
to tell him about her sojourn to San Francisco when his facial
expression suddenly changed.
"I heard a story," he said, his grin widening as he pointed a
finger at her.
She knew what was coming.
"There was this girl there...the first night they played. She was
in the audience...and he actually left the stage to talk to her in
the middle of a song."
Buffy sighed. She'd never hear the end of that particular tale, she
just knew it.
"It was YOU?" Riley went on. "It WAS...wasn't it?"
Oh, well....
"Yes, it was me," she told him. "That was the night I met him."
"A couple of my tellers were there that night. Is it true that you
ran out on him?"
It was public knowledge, she could hardly deny it. "All true."
Leaning his elbow on the table, Riley propped his cheek on his
hand. "Come on....you have to tell me about it."
"I most certainly do not."
"Buffy....you're rejecting me for another guy. The least you can
do is...."
"All right!"
She gave in easily. Telling him about it was easier than arguing
the point, and he HAD been very accepting of her new relationship...even though she suspected that it was more the identity of
the new man in her life that swung the ball in her favor.
Sketching the story out briefly, she omitted the wildly personal
details, finishing up with the arrival of the mysterious videotape.
Riley listened attentively, laughing at the appropriate places.
"That's quite a story," he said, "and I'm really glad for you,
Buffy. Not because of who he is...but because he makes you
happy."
She returned his smile, feeling light years better than she had
been a half hour ago. "Thanks, Riley."
He leaned over the table and cupped her chin in his hand,
tilting her face up. "I hope he appreciates how lucky he is,"
he said quietly. "Because you're something special."
She opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by the
sudden sound of a high performance car revving it's
engine at the red light just a few yards from the patio of
the Espresso Pump.
Turning her head to see who was causing the din, she
found herself staring directly into the sapphire gaze of
the 'Blue Eyed Devil' himself.....
.....and he did NOT look happy!
CONTINUED...
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