Summary: A retelling of Spike and
Buffy's first meeting. Starts in early
season 2. For the purpose of the
story, Angel does not exist and Spike
is a little....different.
Disclaimer: I do not own the show Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel (The Series). All of the characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox, et al.
Feedback: snapkik@yahoo.com
Part Twenty
"Here I am
Playing with those memories again
And just when I thought time had set me free
Those thoughts of you keep taunting me..."
~~~~~
Buffy's eyes went wide with shock. She turned hot,
then cold, then hot again.
"Ahhhh!" Looking up, she saw her reflection, squealed,
and clapped both hands over her eyes to shut out the
image, dropping the envelope and letter.
cat wouldn't bother to drag in.
The letter settled on her foot, but the envelope played
hide and seek by sailing under her mother's curio cabinet.
She dropped to her knees and tried to wedge her
hand between the bottom of the cabinet and the floor.
Groping around blindly, she was beginning to think that
she'd have to move the stupid cabinet away from the
stupid wall when the tips of her fingers touched the very
edge of the envelope.
Buffy scanned the front of the envelope for the post-
mark, but it was smudged and she couldn't tell
where he'd sent it from.
The frustration she felt was beginning to give way to a
surge of pure happiness and excitement, as she
felt herself coming alive for the first time in endless,
dreary weeks.
Jumping to her feet, she ran back upstairs and pulled
off all her baggy clothing, then streaked down the
hall to the bathroom.
~~~~~ "Holding you...a feeling I never out grew
Though each and every part of me has tried
Only you can fill that space inside."
~~~~~
She showered, washed and conditioned her hair,
then shaved her legs and underarms. Dashing back
to her room with a towel wrapped around her, she used
her blow dryer, brushing her hair until it gleamed in the
lamplight.
Sitting down at her vanity table, she made up her
face, using a taupe shadow on her eyes, followed
by a soft brown liner and a few strokes of mascara.
She was about to apply her favorite lip color when
she ran her tongue over her teeth, grimacing at the
gritty feeling. Back to the bathroom she went, where
she flossed and brushed her teeth, then rinsed with a
mint flavored mouthwash.
Buffy gave her reflection a big smile. "Much better."
She returned to her bedroom and finished applying
her make-up, painting her lips a dusky rose, then
adding just a touch of gloss.
Logically, she knew it was unlikely..although certainly
not impossible..that he would come that night, but decided
there was nothing wrong with a girl wanting to look nice
while she kills things.
Suddenly anxious and jumpy, she needed to leave
the house, to get moving, to go somewhere and do
something..do anything..just to keep busy.
She donned an emerald green pullover that he had
admired on her once, telling her that he loved the way
the color deepened the green in her eyes.
After slipping on a pair of her tightest jeans, the ones
that clung lovingly to every dip and curve they
touched, she fished around under her bed for her
black ankle high boots.
She took one more look in the mirror and smiled,
pleased with her results.
"He's coming back," she whispered, afraid to say
it too loud. If this was all just an elaborate dream she
was having, she wasn't taking the slightest chance of
waking herself up.
~~~~~ "So there's no sense pretending
My heart, it's not mending.."
~~~~~
Grabbing a light denim jacket, she skipped happily
downstairs. After scribbling a quick note to her
mother explaining that she'd gone out with Willow
and Xander, she left the house and headed straight
for Mount Hope cemetery.
When she crossed the street where they'd had their
second encounter, Buffy paused, unconsciously
straining her ears for the roar of a powerful V-8
engine.
But the only sound she heard was the sputtering
motor of a VW that was already old before she'd
been born.
With a smile and a shake of her head, she practically
jogged the three miles to Mount Hope. A feeling of anti-
cipation that she just couldn't quell flared in her heart when
she walked through the front gates.
As she wove in and out of the tombstones, paying
scant attention to whatever might be going on around
her, she imagined their reunion. Even if he didn't show
up tonight, he soon would, and she had to decide just
exactly how to behave when he did.
Should she be angry that he'd left without saying goodbye,
or just be happy he was back? Maybe a combination of
of both emotions would be the right thing to do.
Briefly considering the option of acting very sophisticated
about the whole thing, she dismissed it just as quickly. The
last thing SHE could pull off would be a "woman of the world"
attitude, acting as if she'd barely noticed he was gone. He
knew her far too well to swallow a line like that.
Deciding to decide later, she then began to worry.
What if she froze up and couldn't think of anything to
say, or said something stupid and babyish, or said nothing
at all and just burst into tears?
These worries were bad enough, but they were nothing
really..just insignificant trifles..compared to her biggest
worry, the one that frightened her more than any demon
ever could.
What if he had brought Drusilla back with him?
She couldn't bear that, not again. It just hurt too much to
be 'the other woman' in William's life. Married to him or
not, she wasn't going to put up with it this time.
~~~~~ "Just when I thought I was over you
And just when I thought I could stand on my own
Oh, baby those memories come crashing through
And I just can't
Go on without...you"
~~~~~
She was so lost in thought that she almost tripped
over the exposed roots of an ancient tree. Shaking
her head, she tried to pay attention to what she was
there for.
But she completely lost her concentration again when
she saw where she'd ended up.
The huge, gloomy bulk of the mausoleum that William
had pressed her against when he had kissed her for
the first time loomed up in front of her.
Closing her eyes, Buffy leaned back against it, her palms
flat on the cold marble. This was where it had all started.
The first touch...the first embrace...the first kiss.
Here was the place where she had fallen in love. The
place where she had abandoned everything she stood
for and gave herself over into his keeping.
Smiling, she opened her eyes and paced around the
perimeter of the building, then stood back and studied
every inch of it.
Her knowledge of romance was limited, but one thing she
DID know was that almost every couple had certain things
they considered to be "theirs".
A song, a favorite restaurant, a particular time of the year,
or a special place that held beautiful memories; a place
where they'd met, perhaps, or gone to on a first date.
"It just figures," she said matter of factly, "MY special
place...is a cemetery!"
With a resigned shrug of her shoulders, she slowly made
her way back to the front gates, dusting three new vamps
along the way.
~~~~~
"On my own, I tried to make the best of it alone
I've done everything I can to ease the pain
But only you can stop the rain.."
~~~~~
Later that night, Buffy was restless in her bed. Sitting
up, lying down, rolling over, practically standing on
her head to find a comfortable spot.
She couldn't help thinking that she had come home
too soon. If she'd stayed just a little longer, maybe
he would have....
Pushing that thought away, she sighed. If she'd stayed
much longer, the sun would have been up...not to mention
her mother, who would definitely want an explanation.
She turned on her side and stared out the window, watching
as the sky turned from black to indigo blue. When she saw
streaks of pinkish orange on the horizon, she gave up
trying to sleep and went downstairs in her pajamas to fix
breakfast.
For the first time in weeks, she had a serious appetite
for it.
~~~~~
"I just can't live without you
I miss everything about you.."
~~~~~
"You're up early."
Buffy looked up and smiled when her mother walked
into the kitchen, wrapped up in her fuzzy blue robe.
"I am," she agreed. "Woke up this morning really hungry."
Half a lie, in a good cause. No point in telling her mom
she hadn't slept all night.
Joyce returned her daughter's smile and ruffled her hair
as she walked by. "Up early AND in a good mood? I
should call the Sunnydale Daily News."
Buffy winced. "Have I been that bad?"
Her mother nodded. "You've had your moments."
"Well, those days are over," Buffy said firmly. "From
now on, I'm gonna be a brand new me. The new and
improved Buffy Summers."
"I can't wait," Joyce replied, taking a coffee mug out of
the cupboard. "Actually, I believe you," she added. "I
don't remember the old Buffy Summers ever making a
pot of coffee."
"Yay for me!"
"Want some?" Joyce asked as she filled her mug.
"Yes, please." After more than twenty-four hours with no
sleep, she knew she was going to need it.
Joyce poured a second cup half full of coffee and handed
it to Buffy. She opened the fridge and took out a carton
of milk, then joined her daughter at the table.
Buffy reached for the sugar bowl and began dumping
spoonfuls from it into her cup. When she had it as sweet
as she preferred, she topped the cup off with milk, turning
the dark brown liquid a light mocha.
Even this simple act reminded her of William, bringing
back the memory of the time he'd stayed all day with
her. After making love when they woke up, he had dragged
her down to the kitchen and made breakfast for her.
She had sat at the table and watched as he produced
huge mounds of pale yellow scrambled eggs, lightly crisp
bacon, and golden brown toast, which she slathered in
raspberry jam.
He had poured her a cup of coffee, then watched in amazement
as she doctored it to her liking. With a huge grin on his face,
he had asked her if she would care for a little coffee with her
milk and sugar.
"So," Joyce said, breaking into Buffy's thoughts. "Does this
new found happiness and change for the better have anything
to do with a boy?"
Buffy grinned. "Does it show?"
"Kind of, yes."
"Well...." Buffy's cheeks turned pink as she nodded.
Joyce sipped her coffee. "This isn't by any chance the boy
you were going to introduce me to when I got home from New
York, is it?"
"Yes," Buffy said briefly.
Her mother studied her face for a moment. "Everything's all
right then?"
Buffy stirred her coffee. "It will be soon," she murmured. "Every-
thing will be perfect."
Joyce arched her eyebrows. "I hope so, honey. You were awfully
unhappy up until...well, up until now!"
"I know," Buffy replied. "But things are different now. You'll
see."
"So, you're planning on introducing him to your old mom, huh?"
"Definitely!"
Joyce waited half a beat, then changed the subject. "Did
you say you were hungry?"
"Starved," Buffy nodded eagerly.
"Pancakes?"
"Chocolate chip?"
"What else?"
~~~~~
"Just when I thought I was over you
And just when I thought I could stand on my own
Oh, baby, those memories come crashing through
And I just can't...go on without.."
~~~~~
Darkness came once more, and Buffy left the
house to take up her vigil in the cemetery.
By midnight, she had slain four vampires, but saw no
sign of the one she most wanted to appear.
She loitered around the front gates of Mount Hope
for as long as she could without getting chased home
by the police.
Completely exhausted, she crawled into bed and slept
for fifteen hours.
~~~~~
"It's just no good without...you."
~~~~~
Part Twenty One
~~~~~ "She may be the face I can't forget
The trace of pleasure or regret
May be my treasure or the price I have to pay
~~~~~
The launch cruised up to the dock, and Spike tossed
the rope out to Luke, waiting until the craft was secured
at it's mooring.
Once it was firmly tied, Luke hopped off the small
boat, a big smile plastered all over his face. "We got him,
Boss."
"Good," Spike replied. "Is he conscious?"
"Umm...well, no. He sort of...didn't want to come
with us. We tried to reason with him, Boss, but he just
told us to fuck off. Said he didn't even remember your
lady and wouldn't give a shit about her if he did."
Spike allowed a small smile to touch his lips. "Well,
I'll just have to remind him then." He tossed the keys
to Lysander's town car in his minion's direction. "Let's take
him up." As he walked back towards the car, another
thought occurred to him, and he turned back to
Luke again. "Throw him in the trunk."
As the car traveled the four miles from the dock to the
estate, one thought kept playing over and over in his
mind.
Soon, angelface. I'll be there as soon as I can. Please
don't forget about me...
~~~~~
"She may be the song that summer sings
May be the chill the autumn brings
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day..."
~~~~~
Spike sat in a chair on the opposite side of the
large bed that his prisoner was bound to, waiting
for him to regain consciousness.
As he waited, he studied the other vampire.
The man was around six feet tall, and bulky. He
had the kind of body that could never be described
as graceful, no matter what he was doing.
His face had an almost neanderthalish look to it,
with blunt features. It had probably been a bit leaner
in his youth, but was now running to seed, and looked
a little doughy. He had dark brown, badly cut hair, and
a pathetic attempt at a mustache drooped down from his
upper lip.
Still, his appearance didn't matter in the slightest. All
Spike needed was his blood. A goodly amount of it.
He stared at the vampire, silently willing him to open
his eyes.
Spike didn't plan on giving him much longer. He
would prefer to do what had to be done with a little
cooperation, but that scenario wasn't set in stone.
Frankly, he didn't much care one way or the other. All
he wanted was to be able to leave this island with a
clear conscience, knowing that he had fulfilled his ob-
ligation to Drusilla.
All he wanted was Buffy.
~~~~~
"She may be the beauty or the beast
May be the famine or the feast
May turn each day into a heaven or a hell
She may be the mirror of my dreams
The smile reflected in a stream
She may not be what she may seem
Inside her shell..."
~~~~~
Being so far away from her was almost physically
painful. He hadn't realized how horrible it would be
until he'd had to leave her.
But, even knowing that in the long run she was probably
better off without him, wasn't enough to hold him here
much longer.
His "noble gesture" of leaving her behind to try and
allow her to lead as normal a life as a slayer could, now
seemed stupid, a waste of time and effort. When the facts were
boiled down to their barest essence, what he had actually
done had been to desert her, good intentions not with-
standing.
He should have known he'd never be able to stay away
from her. She owned his heart completely, far more than
Drusilla ever had.
His beautiful, bright eyed little slayer, her childlike
giggles juxtaposed with her womanly charms, was all he
wanted in the world. He would do whatever it took to get
back to her.
~~~~~
"She, who always seems so happy in a crowd
Whose eyes can be so private and so proud
No one's allowed to see them when they cry..."
~~~~~
But the longer it took, the more his anxiety over
her rose. He'd been gone so long. What if she'd
gotten tired of waiting? She was young and
beautiful, with a passionate nature that she'd only
begun to explore. Men would sense that in her,
would be drawn to her by it, as he had been him-
self.
Just the thought of her giving herself to some other
man brought all his rage screaming to the surface.
What would he do if he returned, only to find that
his bride had given up on him? It was no more than
he deserved for leaving the way he had.
And if he found her in another man's arms...God,
what would it drive him to? Murder, he had no doubt.
"Away to heaven. Respective lenity," he quoted
softly. "Fire-eyed fury be my conduct now."
Yes, that pretty much summed it up.
~~~~~
"She may be the love that cannot hope to last
May come to me from shadows of the past
That I'll remember till the day I die..."
~~~~~
He couldn't let that happen, couldn't let her slip
through his fingers so easily.
Sitting and waiting for Dru's sire to wake up, he
decided that he would write to his bride that very
night. He had to tell her to wait for him, that he
was coming back to her; and that there was no power
on earth that would keep him from it.
He would make it all up to her somehow, would do
anything he had to do to make her forgive him. Because,
he had to. Without her...he had nothing.
~~~~~
"She may be the reason I survive
The why and wherefore I'm alive
The one I'll care for through the rough and ready years
~~~~~
Shaking his head, he pushed the unpalatable
thought away. She WOULD be there, and she
WOULD be waiting.
They'd be together again, and he would cherish
her and live for her; he would marry her properly, and
make love to her every day for the rest of her life.
The future stretched out in front of him with a new
purpose; making Buffy happy.
He'd do all he could to make sure that she lived a
long and happy life, and, when she inevitably, left
him...he wouldn't be staying behind.
This was to be the final chapter of his long and
tumultuous existence.
~~~~~
"Me, I'll take her laughter and her tears
And make them all my souvenirs
For where she goes I've got to be
The meaning of my life is...she."
Part Twenty Two
~~~~~
"The long and winding road
That leads to your door
Will never disappear
I've seen that road before.."
~~~~~
The vampire didn't wake slowly, but with a shout
and an upward lunge. It took him a moment to
realize that he was in restraints, but when he managed
to clear his head, he reacted predictably.
Spike sat in the chair, silently waiting for the tantrum
to be over. With his ankle crossed over his knee, and
his elbows balanced on the chair arms, he steepled
his fingers together and smiled.
The vampire finally noticed that he wasn't alone. "You
think this is funny?"
Spike shrugged. "I think it's hysterical. In another moment,
I'll be rolling on the floor, unable to contain my laughter."
The vampire looked around the room, his eyes wild with
fury. "Where the fuck am I....and who the fuck are you?"
Spike shook his head. "First things first," he said. "Do
you have a name?"
"Fuck you!"
"Tsk, tsk," Spike sighed. "Uncooperative even in the
midst of your....current predicament." Leisurely rising
to his feet, he crossed the room and opened a drawer
in a large oak bureau.
"What are you doing?" the vampire asked warily.
Spike didn't answer. He merely removed a small glass
bottle from the drawer, then closed it up again.
Turning to face the bed, he held the bottle up so that
the vampire could see it. "Don't make me open this,"
he warned the vamp, his tone deadly serious. "I'll only
warn you once."
The vampire eyed the container of holy water, then
strained at the chains binding him.
Spike uncapped the bottle and held it out over the
vamps face.
His captive tried to duck away, but one small drop
of the deadly water hit his face, right at the hairline. It
sizzled and the vampire muttered a muffled word.
"Pardon?" Spike asked, tilting the bottle again.
"ANGELUS!" the vampire shouted. "My fucking name is
Angelus!"
Spike was honestly surprised. "You must be kidding,"
he said. "What in the world is angelic about you?"
Even in his obvious distress, the vampire looked in-
sulted. "The face, you idiot! What..are you blind?"
"Unfortunately, no," Spike sighed. "Fine...Angelus. I'm
going to tell you why you're here, and what you have
to do if you want to leave in one piece."
Finally surmising that he wasn't going to be released
just yet, Angelus settled down.
"One hundred and thirty six years ago," Spike began, "you
played a little game with the Carmelite Sisters of the
Sacred Heart of Jesus."
"The who of what?" Angelus asked sarcastically.
Spike was getting tired of the bullshit. He leaned closer
and spoke again in his deepest voice. "Don't fuck around
with me, Angelus. You have no idea how close I am to
losing control. I need something from you, so that I can
get off this son-of-a-bitching island and back to my bride. Now,
you can give me what I want willingly, and leave in relatively
good health, or...unwillingly, and not leave at all. Choose
which you prefer, but believe me when I say...I WILL have
what I want from you, one way or the other."
Angelus scooted up as far as his chains would allow. "Get
back to your bride? She's not here?"
"No. She's not here."
~~~~~
"It always lead me here
Leads me to your door.."
~~~~~
"Some vampire YOU are," Angelus sneered. "Can't even
keep your mate with you."
With a huge effort of self control, Spike continued. "Do I
need to refresh your memory again?" he asked, holding up
the bottle. "Get back on topic."
"Look," Angelus replied. "I played a lot of games at a lot
of different places. I've been around for over two hundred
years. You can't expect me to remember all of them."
"I'm not asking you to remember all of them. But, one
hundred and thirty six years ago...in London...you had a
grand old time with the novices at Sacred Heart. You made
a habit of grabbing them out of the confessionals when they
thought they were speaking with a priest." Spike paused. "Ring-
ing any bells for you?"
Angelus produced the look of a man looking back on very
sweet memories. "I remember that. I was good at it. For
about three years, I hit just about every convent in England
and Ireland." He looked at Spike. "So, what's it to you?"
"It's nothing to me," Spike said. "Ancient history...except for
one thing."
"And that would be what, laddie?"
"One of the novices that you sired, sired me a year later."
Angelus grinned. "Gave you a good siring, did she? Well,
you don't have to thank me. Happy to be of assistance."
Spike glared at him. "Does it look as though I've brought you
here to thank you, you stupid git?"
It was taking every bit of control he had not to break off one
of the bedposts and smash it through the other vamp's heart.
"Well, then what the fuck do you want with me?" Angelus
narrowed his eyes. "And how did you get me here?"
The question made Spike smile a little. "That's an interesting
story. When I located you, I sent two of my minions to go after
you and bring you here."
The vampire finally began to make the right connections. "Is
this...oh, fuck. This is about that girl...the one that's dying.
Isn't it?"
"Her name is Drusilla, and you are her sire," Spike said. "And
yes, she's dying. I brought her here because there's a warlock
here who can cure her. He has everything he needs...except for
the blood of her sire. Now, THAT'S where you come in."
Angelus shook his head. "That's where I go out," he countered.
"I already told your boys. You're not getting shit from me."
"I don't need shit," Spike said. "I need blood. Your blood. A lot
of it."
"Not a chance, boyo." Angelus jerked at his chains. "Not a fucking
chance!"
There was a pause, then Spike said, "I'll give you a few minutes to
think about that answer."
He turned on his heel and walked out of the bed chamber,
leaving Angelus to rage alone.
Closing the door behind him, he leaned back against it. "Soon, baby,"
he murmured. "Soon."
~~~~~
"The wild and windy night
That the rain washed away
Has left a pool of tears
Crying for the day
Why leave me standing here
Let me know the way.."
~~~~~
"Is he awake?" Lysander asked, without looking up
from his book."
Spike nodded, falling into the opposing armchair, and
covering his face with his hands. "He's awake...and he's
a huge pain in the ass."
The warlock chuckled. "Uncooperative, I take it?"
"That's putting it politely." Straightening up, he dropped
his hands and looked over at his only hope. "Is every-
thing ready?"
Lysander nodded. "Yes...except for Drusilla. It's time
you told her everything." He looked at Spike over the rim of
his spectacles.
Spike knew it, and he wasn't looking forward to the con-
frontation. Even as sick as she was, Drusilla didn't like
sharing her toys.
But the sooner he got it over with, the sooner he'd be away
from this island prison, and the sooner he could go home to
Buffy.
He needed her so badly. Needed to feel her arms around him,
her warm, young body pressed tightly against his as she
whispered her shy endearments in his ear.
Leaning back against the headrest, he turned to see Lysander
studying him rather intently. "Tell me this is going to
work," he pleaded.
Instead of answering the question, Lysander closed his
book. "And what will you do if it doesn't? Put her out of
her misery with a nice, sharp piece of wood?"
Spike looked away. He couldn't say that he'd never think
of doing such a thing. Desperation, when it went on long
enough, could make anyone do the 'unthinkable' , and his
desperation to return to Buffy could easily force his hand.
"If...it doesn't work," he asked haltingly, "how long would
it be until she..."
"Dies?"
Spike nodded.
"Who knows? Maybe weeks...maybe days...maybe only
hours or minutes," Lysander said with a shrug. "I've tried
the augurs, tried to see her destiny...but it was useless.
Her mental processes wouldn't allow it. You see," he
leaned forward in his chair, "she's unstable, so her destiny
changes from moment to moment."
"But that's not my fault!" Spike said defensively. "I didn't
make her the way she is. I've tried to help her. I took care
of her for more than a hundred years." He lowered his
voice. "I don't know how much longer I can do it. I...I
need to go to..."
"I know where you need to go," Lysander said calmly. "To
the one you left behind. Without her, you feel...incomplete."
"No." Spike shook his head. "Without her...I AM incomplete."
~~~~~
"Many times I've been alone
And many times I've cried
Anyway, you'll never know
The many ways I've tried
And still they lead me back
To the long, winding road.."
~~~~~
"I see. Well, tell me this; does Drusilla know that this
girl, this...other girl...is the Slayer?"
Spike didn't bother asking how the warlock knew that
Buffy was the Slayer. "I don't know," he replied honestly. "If
she does, she hasn't mentioned it."
"Hmm." Lysander mused. "A vampire in love with a slayer.
THAT'S one for the record books."
"I suppose."
"Well," the warlock said, rising to his feet. "I'll be below.
You let me know when she's prepared."
Spike watched Lysander leave the room, heading for the
stairs that would take him down to his laboratory.
A few moments later, he rose and headed for the
main staircase.
Freedom was so close he could taste it.
~~~~~
"You left me standing here
A long, long time ago
Don't leave me waiting here
Lead me to your door..."
~~~~~
Part Twenty Three
~~~~~
"Careful what you do
Someone's on to you
Careful what you do"
~~~~~
"Dru...honey?" Spike leaned over and gave her a
gentle shake. "Wake up now, luv. I have a surprise
for you."
Drusilla rolled over in bed and opened her eyes, staring
at him. "A pretty surprise? Or a nasty one?"
He smiled at her, tenderly. "A pretty one," he assured
her.
With some effort, Drusilla pulled herself up into a sitting
position, then leaned back into the pillows. Regarding him
steadily for a moment, she shook her head. "I think it's
both. Like a picnic when it rains. Or a trip to the seashore
where the stinging jellyfish wait by the rocks....to BITE!"
She punctuated her last word with a loud clap of her
hands in Spike's face, then giggled.
He moved back a little and took her hands in his. "No,
darling. Nothing will sting you," he said softly. He raised
one hand and brushed her hair back from her gaunt face.
As he looked into her eyes, he wondered where the
passion he'd once felt had disappeared to. There
had been a time when this black haired princess had
been all he'd wanted in the world.
He'd loved her and hated her, lusted for her and killed
with her, truly believing that they would be together for
eternity.
Now, the thought of that left him cold.
He still cared...he would ALWAYS care. But his heart
was no longer bound to her, and after what he had known
with Buffy, he was beginning to think that it never really
had been, that he'd just been marking time, waiting for Buffy
to be born, and to grow up?
"Dru...listen to me now," he said, looking directly into her
eyes. "Tonight, we're going to do something that will make
you well again."
~~~~~
"Careful what you say
Because you're on display
Every night and every day"
~~~~~
Drusilla smiled, delightedly. "Are we going to play
a game?" she asked.
Spike nodded. "In a way. But when the game is over,
you'll be all better."
"That's good," she sighed. "I'm always so tired, Spike.
I don't understand why."
"You've been sick, luv," he explained. "Don't you re-
member what happened in Prague?"
"Prague?" she echoed vaguely. "I don't like it there. I
like Paris. Can we go to Paris, my Spike?"
Spike swallowed hard. He couldn't lie to her. She always
knew when he was lying. "Course you can," he said,
hoping she wouldn't notice the singular word in his an-
swer. "Paris is just waiting there for you, darling," he
added quickly.
Dru laughed. "Miss Edith will be so pleased. She was
born there, you know."
"Yes, I know," Spike nodded. "But before Paris, we have
to make you strong again."
She lifted one hand and traced his features with her
fingertip. "Pretty vampire," she murmured. "My little
Spike."
He watched her hand slide down his arm, feeling
it's coldness, disliking her touch. Dru's hands were alien
to him now. Like spiders crawling on him, he wanted
to brush them away.
Buffy's hands were warm and soft. When she was at
peace, they lingered on him gently, rubbing his shoulders
and stroking his hair. He would make love to her tenderly,
feeling her little fingers move up and down his spine,
playing across his face and lips.
But, when she was passionate, her hands moved over
him quickly, trying to touch him everywhere at once. Her
fingers would demand entrance into his mouth, and he
would swirl his tongue around them and pretend to bite.
She would grip handfuls of his hair when he went down
on her, holding him in place while his tongue probed
her deepest recess. The cries that came from her throat
drove him mad with lust, inspiring him to make it even
better for her.
Then, at the moment when their bodies were joined and
her passion reached it's zenith, her nails would dig into
his shoulders and back. She was unaware at the time
of how hard she would cling to him, hard enough to mark
his skin for hours.
But that was all right too, because she would make such
a fuss over each small wound, kissing them sweetly,
sometimes starting things up all over again.
God, how he loved the touch of her hands. He would eat
dirt, if she fed it to him with her little fingers.
~~~~~
"Somebody's hiding in the great unknown
And every time you think you're alone
Somebody's eyes are watching"
~~~~~
"Do you remember your sire, Dru?"
She looked confused for a moment. "Daddy...he
was mean. Very naughty." Her eyes narrowed
and she suddenly smiled. "He liked the nasty, dirty
girls...but I was clean. Untouched."
"That's right," Spike nodded. "You were going to be
a nun, remember?"
Dru closed her eyes, clasping her hands in front
of her face. "Now I lay me down to sleep," she
sing-songed. "Pray the lord my soul to keep."
Her eyes opened again, and she snapped her teeth.
"Daddy took it away. He said...it was ugly, stinking
of filthy love. So, he took it. It flew off, like a white dove.
I saw it go."
Spike took a tighter rein on his patience. He wanted
her to listen to him, not wander off on irrelevant tangents.
The sooner this was done, the better.
"Dru," he said seriously. "Your sire is here. We need him
for the...the game."
She looked at him, her brow furrowed. "Daddy's here? Will
he hurt me?"
"Honey, no," he said, shaking his head. "You know I won't
let anyone hurt you."
Drusilla tilted her head to one side. "Will YOU hurt me?" she
asked.
~~~~~
"Somebody's eyes see you come and go
Somebody's out there, waiting for the show
You've got no disguise from somebody's eyes"
~~~~~
Spike considered his answer carefully. "Dru...I'd
never want to hurt you."
She smiled sweetly. "Because you love me," she
said.
"Yes." He returned her smile. "Because..I love you."
Suddenly sitting up, Dru leaned forward and brushed
her lips against his cheek.
Oh, no. God, no. This couldn't be happening. Not now.
After months of lacking interest in any physical con-
tact, she was going to start up NOW?
He couldn't do it. There was no possible way he could
give her what she wanted. She held no attraction for
him that way, not anymore.
Even with the long period of abstinence he'd been
dealing with since he'd left Buffy, he knew damn well
he wouldn't be able to get it up for Drusilla. Not only
because he didn't want her, but because he would
be betraying his bride.
He couldn't just close his eyes and pretend that
he was making love to Buffy. Even if he could con-
vince his mind of it, his body would sense that it
wasn't joined with the woman he loved, and it would
not cooperate. He felt certain of it.
~~~~~
"Careful how you speak
Turn the other cheek
Be careful how you speak"
~~~~~
Spike chose his words with care. "Not now, luv.
When you're better." He smiled at her. "It's been
so long. I want you to be in top form, with all your
strength."
Drusilla settled back into the pillows, obviously
trying to probe around in his mind. "She's all over
you."
He tensed up. "Who is, luv?"
She lunged forward suddenly. "I can smell her on your
skin," she hissed. "You're all covered with her. That
silly little girl you found."
"Drusilla..."
"I see her, you know. The music plays for her...and
she dances on the very edge."
Spike was tired of the cryptic. "What do you mean?" he
asked, dropping all pretense. "What is she doing?"
Dru laughed. "She waits."
"Is she all right?" He leaned in closer. "Don't close your
eyes, Drusilla," he said firmly. "Look at me...is she all
right?"
"She waits by the window, brushing her hair," Dru
whispered. "And at night, she dances with the devil.
How they all want her pretty, soft skin, and golden
curls. Pouting lips and eyes of green glass. But she
says no...no, no, no, and no again."
Spike sat back, trying to decipher the meaning of
Dru's words. Dancing on the edge and dancing with
the devil was a reference to Buffy's slaying, and to the
risks she had been taking.
But the other part was harder to decode. Who was it
that wanted Buffy's skin and hair, her eyes and her
lips? Demons that wanted to put an end to her...or
men that simply wanted her?
"She'll be dancing when you find her," Dru said. "Then,
you'll have your answer."
At that precise moment, he could have quite cheerfully
wrenched Drusilla's head from her shoulders. If it wasn't
for her, he would be with Buffy now. Not sitting here on
this island, helpless to protect her.
~~~~~
"Think a naughty thought
And if you get caught
Boy, you've got a lot of trouble"
~~~~~
Drusilla laughed again, bringing his attention back
to her. "Poor William," she said in mock sympathy. "Too
far away to hear her cry. A little, lost lamb...and you, a
naughty wolf to make her think you care."
Spike's eyes met hers, then darted away, shielding
his emotions. "Let it go, Dru," he said. "You should
rest for tonight."
She looked at him, speculatively. "And what shall my
darling boy do while I rest?" she asked. "Make busy
little plans? Arrangements?"
He started to stand up, but she grabbed him with surprising
swiftness and strength. "You think I don't know," she
said, her hand clutching his shirt sleeve. "Not all of it, any-
way."
"Stop it, Dru," he replied, shaking her off. "Lie down and
rest."
"Bide your time, Spike," she continued, as though he
hadn't spoken. "Keep yourself for her, if you will. The
game is just beginning."
~~~~~
"Somebody's eyes never sleep
Somebody's after the secrets you keep
Who's got alibis from somebody's eyes?"
~~~~~
Drusilla finally released him, reclining back on the
bed. She turned her back on him and pulled Miss
Edith into her arms, humming a nameless tune into
the doll's porcelain ear.
Spike left the room, closing the door behind him.
He stood for a moment, collecting his thoughts, then
went in search of Lysander. It was time to get this
thing done.
Tired of waiting...tired of living on this island...tired
of keeping secrets...and tired to death of Drusilla and
her scatterbrained thought processes. Spike was all
that and more besides.
~~~~
"If you've anything to hide
Think twice before you step outside"
~~~~~
Before going in search of the warlock, Spike stopped in
his own room. He pulled a long box out from under the
bed and opened it.
The cherry wood stock of the dart gun gleamed in the
mellow lamp light as he loaded it with a heavy dose of
Pentobarbital. He was taking no chance that Angelus
might not cooperate.
~~~~~
"Somebody's eyes are following every move"
~~~~~
Quietly opening the door, he raised the dart gun
and cradled it against his shoulder.
"What the..." Angelus saw him and he began to
struggle against his bonds. "Don't do that! HEY!
WHAT'S....NO!"
"Sorry," Spike murmured, then fired the dart. Less
than a minute later, Angelus was unconscious.
~~~~~
"Somebody's waiting to show they don't approve."
~~~~~
Part Twenty Four
~~~~~
"My dearest love, who existed in a dream
Till this evening when a wave came and
Swept me out to sea.."
~~~~~
Buffy turned over in bed, restlessly kicking the
covers off. The day had been unseasonably warm,
and the room still felt hot and sticky.
Her nightgown clung to her sweaty body, making
her skin itch. She'd tried to cool herself down with
a tepid bath, but the effects had been temporary and
now she was a cranky, icky mess.
She realized that the heat was only part of the
problem. Unfortunately, it was the only part she
could do anything about.
The part of her that wasn't baking in the heat, was
simmering in a stew of unfulfilled need.
Up until the day she had received William's second
letter, she had refused to allow herself to think about
certain things. She'd had to, or she'd have gone
quietly mad trying to quell the fires that he'd stirred
up in her.
But now, knowing that he was coming back to her, she
didn't bother even trying to hold them off.
They were sneaky, hitting her entirely by surprise, usually
when she was unprepared for them.
Yesterday, they had attacked her in school. She'd been
in P.E., in the middle of the football field, running
relay races.
Waiting for her turn, she had seen out of the corner of
her eye, a kid from the track team doing laps. He been
similar to William in both height and weight, and he
wore his blond hair short.
She had stood and stared at the boy, completely
lost in her fevered imagination. Her gym teacher
had called for her to run, then called again a little
louder.
But, her trance hadn't been broken until Miss Cameron
had walked right up and blown her whistle in Buffy's
face. Startled, she had almost lost her contact with
the ground, and her ears had still been ringing an
hour later.
For the entire remainder of the school day, he'd
seemed to be everywhere she'd turned. In the cafe-
teria eating lunch, sitting with his friends outside
on the grass, coming out of the men's room by her
locker, and boarding the school bus after the dis-
missal bell.
Buffy had walked around all that long, seemingly
endless day, feeling an empty ache in her crotch.
An ache she couldn't soothe by rubbing herself against
the inseam of her jeans.
There was only one person who could relieve that
violent yearning, and he was still nowhere to be
found.
~~~~~
"None of the loves you have known
Could prepare you for the love raging
Everywhere in me.."
~~~~~
It had been bad enough losing him, but she'd also
lost the release valve for her sexual tension, and
the pleasure he had taught her to feel.
She was definitely going to get even with him for
that...if he would just show his face sometime
before she was too old to appreciate it.
Plucking her damp, cotton gown away from her
clammy skin, she sat up in bed and fixed the
problem entirely by whipping it off and throwing
it across the room.
She grabbed the corner of the bed sheet and
blotted the sweat that seemed to be pooling
everywhere on her body.
After she wiped the backs of her knees dry, she
began to work on the thin skin of her inner thighs.
Then, much to her own amazement, her fingers
let go of the sheet and crept up and up, finally
stopping when she touched the place that only one
other person besides her had touched.
Closing her eyes, and with her lips slightly parted,
she slid her fingers up and down the cleft of her
sex, trying to imitate the skillful moves William had
performed on her.
She had none of his finesse, but her eagerness
seemed to be making up for it.
Buffy stroked and fondled herself, embarrassed
beyond belief at what she was doing, but doing
it anyway.
Moving her fingers faster, she rubbed herself to a
near frenzy, then timidly allowed one digit to slip
inside her just the tiniest bit.
And, if she concentrated, she could imagine that
he had come into her room. Kneeling on her bed, he
crawled up her body on his hands and knees. His
mouth captured her's beneath it, and he began giving
her the often mentioned "long, slow, deep, soft wet
kisses that last three days."
~~~~~
"For all the arms that have covered you
The hands that have touched you
And the lips you have lingered on before
Added together, would be less than an olive
In the banquet of love I have in store."
~~~~~
"Why...why aren't you here?" she almost sob-
bed. "I need you...I need you."
"I know, angelface. I need you, too," he answered,
softly nuzzling her throat. "I'll be with you soon, I
promise. But...until then..."
"Until then....what?" she asked, gasping at the
sensation of his mouth on her moist skin.
"Touch yourself," he whispered in her ear. "And think
of me."
~~~~~
"Love seasoned to entice
Love with all the trimmings, filled with spice
Love flavored to your whim
Served piping hot, with all the trimmings"
~~~~~
"That's," she swallowed hard. "That's kind of hard
to do."
He chuckled, tickling her skin. "No, it's not. Just
imagine that it's my hand between your legs...all
right?"
Buffy nodded and took a shot at it. "You know....it's
really not the same."
"Slide your finger up to the top. Now, just rub yourself
there gently," he said, stroking her hair. "You'll find the..."
"Oh! I think I found it," she squeaked.
"Good girl," he murmured approvingly. "Rub a little
harder, now."
Buffy nodded and followed his instructions. Raising
her free hand, she wiggled her fingers. "Um...what should
I...?"
"Put it anywhere you like, sweetheart."
She thought it over for a moment, then shyly placed
it on the tender skin below her breasts.
"Oh, now," he scolded. "That's not where you really want
it...is it?"
Buffy was having a hard time concentrating. "No...not
exactly," she said, licking her lips.
William sighed. "Sweetheart...only you would be shy in
your own fantasy."
"Oh...I'm not blushing, am I?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Maybe a little." Taking her arms
in his hands, he lifted her slightly. "I know what you
want," he said into her ear, biting down gently on the
lobe, teasing the small gold hoop that adorned it.
"See...if I were lying beneath you," he went on, doing
just that, adjusting her until she was stretched out full
length on top of him, staring at the ceiling. "I'd have one
hand down here." He slipped his fingers between her
thighs, spreading the wetness liberally over her skin. "And
the other one...here." His free hand cupped and molded
her breast, squeezing it and tugging gently on the nipple,
making it firm and erect.
"Ohh.." she moaned. This was so much better. He always
knew just what she wanted...even before she did.
~~~~~
"For, I'll decode every breath and every sigh
Till your every lover's wish is fulfilled
Before it's made.."
~~~~~
"Can you feel my fingers inside you?" he asked,
moving them a little faster.
Buffy nodded. "Yeah. Uh-huh."
He waited a moment, then smiled against the soft
flesh of her throat. "And, does it feel good?"
"Oh," she added quickly. "Yes. It's just...it's been
so long." She lifted one hand and caressed his
cheek. "And I miss you so much."
"I know," he said softly. "I miss you, too. I love you,
sweetheart...and I'll be home soon."
"Promise?" she panted, lifting her hips to meet the thrust
of his fingers.
"Promise," he nodded. "Shall I go deeper?"
"Okay." She tilted her head back when she felt him
slide his wet fingers further into her slick passage. "Oh,
God....William..."
"Yes, baby?" He tightened his other hand around her
breast, fondling her roughly. "Tell me."
"I wish....I wish you were inside me....properly," she moaned,
clamping down on his teasing fingers.
"Soon, baby," he said, nipping at her neck. "Soon, I'll
have everything inside you." He sped up the pace of his
invasive touch. "You wait for me," he demanded. "Don't
let anyone else touch you. You're mine."
~~~~~
"Toss in some jealousy and doubt
Should it be required
Not rest till there's nothing more desired"
~~~~~
"I am," she sobbed on a ragged breath. "I'm yours...al-
ways...I love you....I love you...."
"I love you, too." His tongue licked the sweat off her
skin. "Only you, love. Only my beautiful bride...my
angel...my baby. Never leave your side again...I swear."
She was quickly approaching the point of no return. Her
fingers moved around the back of his neck and gripped
him, hard. "I'm...I'm your wife," she whimpered. "Me...not
her."
"You," he agreed, mouthing her vulnerable skin. "You're
my wife...my mate. I'm coming home...to you."
Releasing the hold he had on her breast, he sent his
other hand down between her thighs, cupping her sex
tightly and squeezing as his fingers plunged her into
an intense orgasm.
~~~~~
"Thus, loving as I do
Never, never will you ever
Be untrue
Having love with all the trimmings
Waiting home...for you"
~~~~~
Buffy's eyes opened wide as the waves of pleasure
began to recede. Slowly, she pulled her hands
out of her crotch, wiping them on the sheet beside
her.
She almost leapt right through the ceiling when her
mother's concerned voice came from the other side
of her door.
"Buffy!" (knock-knock) "Are you okay, honey?"
"Um...yeah. I'm fine, Mom," she answered, yanking
the top sheet up under her neck. "How are you?"
Her mother was silent for a moment. "I'M fine," she
finally said. "You're the one yelling in the middle of
the night."
"I...I was yelling?" Horrified, she wondered if she
dared asked precisely WHAT she'd been yelling. "I
guess I was having a dream?" she ventured.
The doorknob turned and her mom peeked in. "Are
you asking me or telling me?"
Buffy considered her options. "Telling you," she said
firmly. "It was a dream. Really."
Joyce shook her head. "It must have been a pretty
intense one."
"Uh, yeah," Buffy nodded. "You could put it that way...I
guess."
"So...you're all right?"
"Yeah. Goodnight." Smiling, Buffy gave her mom a little
wave."
"Goodnight, honey."
When the door was closed, she dove out of bed and re-
claimed her nightgown.
But before she tried to go to sleep, she went into the
bathroom and washed her hands.
~~~~~
"Thus, loving as I do
Never, never will you ever
Be untrue
Having love with all the trimmings
Waiting home for you.."
~~~~~