Facing The Mirrors
Part 1


Written by: 1stRab-id a.k.a Raeann


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Summary: An old friend of Buffy’s returns with a little surprise for her. Set after Wrecked but not really spoilery.
Disclaimer: These are the toys of Joss and Mutant Enemy and Fox TV and UPN and well everyone but me…not my toys just my twisted Malibu Dream House. "Gunning Down Romance” by Savage Garden not as bad as I make it sound. ;-D, other songs credited in text.
Notes: Rilla, Binkysab, LostAngel and Nautibitz…they are the best…no doubt about it. Special thanks to: NB for putting my feet on the voyeurism path.
Feedback: Rabid1st@yahoo.com


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Bailey Conger was a smarmy pederast with a nose for the quick buck and an eye for the delicate boy. His eye had led him to an eternal half-life and his nose had led him to a gold mine in the Sunnydale sewers. He pocketed a handful of bills and adjusted his crotch as he watched his latest clients make their own way to the exit. The girl had been too fat for his taste but her male companion was hung like a horse and well worth the discount Bailey gave for a post show bang in the back room. The little vampire was sure he’d be walking funny for a week. Which only goes to show that he wasn’t clairvoyant. He reset the video equipment to record his next satisfied customer in action and headed for the waiting area.

There had been three beings in line for a gawk when Bailey had taken the Horse and Hound down but now there was only one. And it was a wicked one too, a Scyllain Demon. A behemoth of bone crushing evil, seven feet tall and well above 250 pounds with glowing green eyes and matte-green pine cone prickly skin. Bailey looked around nervously. Scyllain’s never traveled alone but there was no sign of this one’s hive.

“The night has a thousand eyes,” Bailey hummed and then had to stifle a fit of giggles at the joke.

The Scyllain turned and shuffled toward him. It spoke with its species’ characteristic rustling sibilant voice. It was the voice of many tongues.

“You have something to show us.” It susurrated.

“If you have some money to show me,” Bailey affirmed, getting down to business.

The beast held out one taloned paw and dropped a wallet into the vampire’s eager hands. It was somebody else’s wallet, of course, but that didn’t matter to Bailey. What mattered was the five hundred plus dollars inside and the lovely platinum colored cards. He slipped the cash and plastic into his jacket and tossed the wallet into the trash to be incinerated later.

“Okay,” Bailey said, holding out a mask with a lead rope attached to it, “Put this on. When I tug on the rope you follow nice and slow.”

The Scyllain turned the mask over in its hands and had a brief conversation with itself. Bailey was distressed to learn that at least part of the demon wanted to rip out his entrails and use them to prognosticate.

“You can’t find it without me,” the little vampire quickly asserted. “I have deadfalls and traps set up and don’t bother to try scent tracing because I use a Sumerian Cleansing Spell every time. I don’t want no trouble but this is my patch see, and I mean to keep it.”

“Very well,” the Scyllain said, after a bit more inner consultation. “We will do as is required.”

The creature slipped on the mask and Bailey began the long, convoluted journey to his mother load for the fifth time that night. He looked at his watch and decided the show would still be going. It was three hours until sunrise. Usually they went at it until just before dawn. He looped the client through several unneeded twists of tunnel before ending up at what Bailey privately thought of as the staging area.

“You can take off the mask,” he said, “From here on we can’t make any noise, no talking, no moaning…and absolutely no jacking off. Remember where you are at all times. This ain’t no kiddie ride. We get caught here and we’re as good as dead. Understand?”

“We understand,” the Scyllain chorused. “What about our scent?”

“Take a deep breath,” Bailey advised with a tiny smile. The Scyllain obeyed and its skin rippled with pleasure. The air was rich with musk, a heady intoxicating odor that almost sent the behemoth to its knees.

“What IS that smell?” the prickly beast murmured in awe.

“That’s what you’ve come to see my friend,” Bailey replied. He felt a momentary surge of affection for his unwitting business partners as he added, “And if your kind lives a thousand years, I wager you will never experience anything like this again.”

Bailey motioned the Scyllain to precede him down a tunnel to the left. There was a flicker of light from the far end and the echo of a pulsating rhythm. As the two demons approached the light, the rhythm filled out into music. Other sounds became audible as well; half-smothered screams, creaking wood and a mewling cry that sounded for all the world like a wounded animal in a trap. The Scyllain reached a rough-hewn stairway and started to climb toward a slit in the tunnel roof. The throbbing of the music became a melody, Macy Gray’s “Caligula”. Bailey’s mouth twisted into a satisfied grin.

“I knew I could count on them for another hour at least,” he thought and motioned his client to the opening for a once in a lifetime view. “More than once in a lifetime,” Bailey mentally amended, “if you happened to be rich…or me!”

The Scyllain peered into the crypt. It was lushly decorated for a dead man’s parlor. There was a coffin, of course, but also a four-poster bed, a red chair, a bookcase, reading lamps and several oriental carpets. The demon searched for a moment before focusing in on the couple he had paid to see. The rarest combination of sexual partners imaginable, a vampire and a Slayer.

She was bound hand and foot to the four points of the bed. Not chained, the Scyllain noted, just tied up with strips of cloth. The restraints weren’t strong enough to hold a housecat let alone a jungle-size feline like Buffy Summers. The vampire had his human face on and he was nowhere near her neck. He was levered up on both arms, keeping time with the music as he hammered into her white-hot core. She was naked, blindfolded and slick with sweat and semen and what smelled like honey-barbecue sauce.

Macy Gray was coming to the end of her number, the lyrics pounding, “He’s something like my favorite fix I got to have him again and again. He’s got me open like an all night store…. He give me some and then I want some more. Da, da, da, da, da, da, da…Again and again and again and again…”

“You like that, baby?” Spike panted as the music faded away. The Slayer’s answer was a pre-verbal grunt and the encouraging twist of her hips.

The CD player keyed up Pink’s “You Make Me Sick” and the vampire laughed out loud, flashing his tongue against his white teeth, “They’re playing your song, Luv.”

The Slayer’s only response was a groan of ecstasy as the song blared out, “I want you and I’m hating it…you drive me crazy, baby, don’t you quit. I can’t get enough of it….”

“Say it Buffy, tell me what you want. You want it rough? You want it bloody?”

“Yes,” she moaned forcing out the words. “Hard…Harder…like…Oh, GOD…like last time…rough…wild…Sp-Spike.”

He reached out and clawed a long scratch in her chest just below the cap of her shoulder. Blood welled up and, when she bowed her body toward him, it trickled down over her breast. There was a loud ripping noise as the restraints on Buffy’s ankles gave way. She convulsed under her demon lover, shuddering with her need for him. She wrapped her legs around Spike’s hips, rotating her pelvis to take him in as deeply as possible.

“Slayer,” he hissed and morphed into his fangs, his cock twisting inside her belly. He lowered his head to suckle at her blood soaked nipple. Then he used his tongue to trace the stream of crimson back to its source.

“Oh…Spike,” Buffy cried. “Like that, baby. Just like that.”

“I know what you need, don’t I?” He growled into her neck. He put his lips to her pulse point, wrestling with his bloodlust, wanting to rend her flesh even as he made sweet love to her. “I’ve always known,” he ground out.

“Yes…yes…need this…need it…need… you…SPIKE!”

With trembling fingers, Spike tore away the Slayer’s blindfold. Taking human form again, he looked into her eyes. She was so close to the edge she could taste it. His fingertips raked through her hair and he held her gaze, unblinking and unflinching. Buffy saw herself reflected in Spike’s eyes as he spoke. “Need you too, Buffy,” He breathed out, “Love you…always.”

He ran his hands up the inside of his beloved’s arms. Impatiently, he pushed off her remaining bonds not caring that he bruised her wrists in the process. He lifted her arms and positioned them around his neck, silently urging her to embrace him completely as he lowered his mouth to her shoulder again to pull the life essence from her body. Like the hunter he was, Spike drove Buffy before him, straight to the brink of oblivion. And over it.

They came together with the trapped animal cries that were unique to them. Spike fired, reloaded and fired again; six times in succession keeping time with Buffy’s multiple orgasms. His seed spilled out of her and soaked the sheets as she clenched around him. The power of their combined release rocked them to the center of their being. It left them weak, helpless in each other’s arms.

The Scyllain demon stumbled away from the peephole. Its eyes were like two backlit emeralds as it turned toward Bailey Conger. The vampire looked down at the state of the creature’s arousal and backed hastily away. To say that Scyllain’s were hung like horses was to give up on hyperbole. Bailey scrambled silently down the stairway and along the tunnel as the huge demon stalked him.

It wasn’t good business to kill paying clients but Bailey was already reaching for the vial of poison that he kept for these little emergencies when the Scyllain arrived at the staging area. Without preamble, the creature shoved the vampire against a wall and used him hard. It smothered his screams by jamming its fist down his throat. Unfortunately, for Bailey Conger, none of the horrible things the Scyllain did to him were actually fatal for a vampire.

Back in Spike’s crypt, Buffy stiffened and listened for a moment. Her Slayer senses always jangled in the presence of her lover but there was something else this time, something hauntingly familiar and yet totally alien. She shifted slightly trying to pinpoint the source of her uneasiness and Spike raised his head to look at her.

“What is it, Luv?” he asked.

“I,” she began and then hesitated, unsure of her feelings, “felt something…or heard, maybe.”

She sat up and Spike rolled off of her. He searched the corners of the room, listening himself now. He knew better than to doubt Buffy’s senses. She was a killer, like him. And like him, she lived by her instincts. But this time, they appeared to be playing her false. After a few more minutes of futile tension, Buffy sighed and slid back down under the sheets.

“Whatever it was, it’s gone now,” she said.

She turned on her side to face Spike, trailing her fingertips along his brow, across his cheek and over his mouth as she added, “And speaking of gone…I need to be.”

“Still an hour or more until sunrise,” Spike said in a let’s be reasonable tone of voice. “Dawn’s at Tara’s. No need to rush off.”

“Needing to rush,” Buffy sighed with something like real regret. “Needing to earn the money.” She glanced down at the messy condition of her skin, “And really, desperately needing to shower.”

“If it’s a bath you want, Pet,” Spike chuckled suggestively, “I got you covered.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips, sweeping his tongue across her palm before adding, “I can even do those hard to reach places.”

“No,” Buffy pouted pushing him away. “No more kinky sex. I’m tired. I’m sticky. And I’m still sore from the last ten times.”

“Wasn’t talking about sex,” Spike groaned releasing her hand and falling back on the bed. “Just touching, tasting, maybe a bit of snuggling. Thought we might get a few hours of sleep before you had to run off is all.”

“I don’t come here to sleep,” Buffy snapped, angry with herself for being so tempted by his offer.

“No,” Spike shot back reaching for a cigarette, “you come here to get laid. To get something you can’t find anywhere else.” He lit up the smoke and blew a cloud at her before adding, “Best damn fuck of your soddin’ life.”

“Ego much?”

“Don’t hear you denying it!”

“Fine,” Buffy said scrambling out of the bed, “I won’t deny it. You’re right. That is exactly why I come here. For the monster wrestling.”

She gathered up her clothes and stomped toward his shower, happy for once that all he had was cold water on tap.

“Insensitive prick,” she muttered, under her breath.

“I heard that,” Spike yelled after her, then sulked into his pillow. “You cold-blooded little tramp.”

Three quarters of an hour later, glowing green eyes watched from the shadows as Buffy exited the crypt. Her hair was still damp, despite the bitter cold night. She was angry, distracted, almost tearful and not paying proper attention to her surroundings. Halfway to the cemetery gate, the demon caught her.

Swift and silent he fell on her, whipping her around by an arm. She swung at him, missed and then was yanked unceremoniously to his mouth. She offered only token resistance after that. Surrendering to the inevitable, Buffy returned Spike’s kiss with an equal ferocity. Only the increasing chill and the rising sun separated the vampire from his lover.

Neither of them noticed a black SUV with tinted windows as it pulled away from the curb.



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“Alright! Alright!” Xander groaned as he rolled out of bed. “I’m coming!”

Pulling on a robe, he stumbled from the bedroom. The dark-haired man glanced at the wall clock. His alarm hadn’t been wrong. It was 6:32 in the blessed a.m. Just past sunrise on a Saturday morning, and some damned fool was leaning on his doorbell.

“Look, Buddy, I don’t mean to be rude but…” Xander began even as he opened the door. His mouth gaped like a fish out of water as he stared at the man on his welcome mat.

“Hello,” the man said, waving a hand in front of Xander’s face. “Earth to Harris!”

“Oh, my GOD!…RILEY!”

“So,” Riley Finn said with a wide grin, “you’re HAPPY to see me?”

“Happy?” Xander said, reaching out to drag the other man into the apartment. “Are you kidding? You’re alive. You’re here. Mere words can not convey how happy I am to see you, Buddy.”

He hugged the soldier, slapping his back in manly camaraderie.

“If only I’d known how much you cared,” Riley joked, after the hug, “I would have written more often.”

“No, no,” Xander said, shaking his head, “you don’t understand what it’s been like. Oz left. You left. Giles left. I am the last man standing. I am totally surrounded by women.”

“Sounds harsh,” Riley said, with insincere sympathy.

“You have NO idea.” Xander shook his head and combed his fingers through his hair before leaning in to confide, “I am so in touch with my feminine side if I don’t close my eyes when I undress I slap myself.”

“Who is it, sweetie?” Anya yawned as she entered the room. “And why won’t they just go away?”

“I did,” Riley told her. “Now, I’m back.”

“Back for good?” Xander asked. “Back to stay?”

“I hope so,” Riley nodded. “I have a few things to work out first.”

“Have you stopped letting strange vampires bite you?” Anya asked. “Or did they turn you already?”

“Ahn! Sweetie? Personal question!”

“Well,” his fiancée reasoned, “I don’t think you should start getting all attached to him again if Buffy is just going to have to kill him.”

“Buffy,” Xander groaned, giving Riley a man-to-man look. “Have you seen her yet?”

“No, I just hit town,” the soldier replied. “I came here first to see if I could store my stuff with you. Not for long, a few days max. Just while I test my welcome.”

“You are more than welcome here man, but I don’t know about the rest of Sunnydale,” Xander said shaking his head. “Buffy took your leaving mighty hard and so much has happened…Glory got the good God beaten out of her, Willow and Tara-on the rocks, Anya and I-engaged. Oh…and Buffy’s Mom died.”

“Joyce died?” Riley said with a note of sadness in his voice.

“And Buffy!”

“Anya!” Xander snapped, shaking his head at her.

“And Buffy what?”

“Buffy died,” Anya said. She was oblivious to Xander’s frantic signaling. “She was six feet under pushing up the daisies.”

“What are you talking about? Buffy,” Riley choked on the word, “…died?”

Anya nodded at the man, happy that he finally understood, “Yep, but she’s all better now.” Then she amended with a tiny shrug, “Well, not exactly ALL better…but much less dead.”

“Okay,” Riley sounded out the letters of the word like separate syllables while he frowned at the couple, looking first at one and then the other. “You’ve lost me.”

“Ahn, has that effect on people,” Xander said, hugging his fiancée to him.

Riley waited but there was no further explanation forthcoming. Instead, Xander waved at the sofa.

“Hey, make yourself at home while I throw on something a little less comfortable then we’ll get your stuff stowed away.” The carpenter headed for the bedroom to change but called back over his shoulder. “It really is good to see you, Buddy!”



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The Magic Box doorbell jangled festively as Buffy entered the store a half-hour before sunset that afternoon. She waved a hello at Anya and headed for the back room. The ex-demon danced out from behind the cash counter and followed, bouncing along like an eager puppy. Grinning brightly, she circled the Slayer.

“Hi, Buffy,” she chirped.

“Uh, Hi!…Again,” Buffy said, slipping out of her jacket. She tossed the coat across the length of the pommel horse and started stretching.

“Someone is staying at our house,” Anya blurted out after a certain amount of high-strung pacing.

“Oh,” Buffy said, leaning over to place both palms flat on the floor behind her ankles. She flexed and stretched her hamstring muscles and then flipped up into a handstand, “Who?”

“It’s a secret,” the ex-demon confided. “But…” She lowered her voice and tipped her head to give the upside-down Slayer a knowing look, “I’ll tell you this much…our visitor is a GOOD friend of Xander’s.”

“That’s nice…I guess,” Buffy returned when no further clues were given.

There was a tiny sound at the far side of the room. Looking toward the door, the Slayer lost all interest in Anya’s mysterious houseguest. Spike was leaning against the doorframe. Duster still swinging, shirt open at the collar, he looked dead sexy. More so, Buffy thought, than was humanly possible. The Slayer sprang out of her handstand. She pushed off with her fingertips, twisted in the air and landed lightly on the balls of her feet, just in front of him.

“Nice balance, Slayer,” the vampire grinned. His body was twanging pleasantly in response to her proximity. Buffy could almost hear the resonant hum coming off of him.

“Spike,” Anya scolded, “why are you here? It’s still daylight and you’re going to ruin the surprise.”

“I came up through the tunnels,” Spike said, pointing vaguely over his shoulder. “Got some news for the Slayer.”

“What surprise?” Buffy asked, turning to blink at Xander’s fiancée.

“Did I say…surprise?” Anya covered ineptly. “I meant…uhm…sunrise.”

“Yeah,” Spike drawled, shooting the ex-demon a sideways look. “’Cause we wouldn’t want me ruinin’ THAT.”

“I’ve got to call Xander,” Anya peeped and darted out of the room.

Spike watched her scoot through the door and then he shrugged dismissively. He turned back around to address Buffy, “Well, bit of mystery is always nice but I’m not here for that or the floor show, Pet. Something’s up. Sort of an impending doom kinda something.”

“Now there’s a surprise,” Buffy returned.

“Get your coat,” Spike said. “We need to go talk to a certain vampire business man.”

“Vampire’s have businesses?” Buffy inquired, grabbing up her jacket. “Do they have a chamber of commerce, too?”

Spike slid his arms around the Slayer’s waist, trapping her between his body and the pommel horse. He lowered his head to breathe in the scent of her hair.

“Oh, we’re an enterprising lot, Pet,” the vampire whispered next to her ear. Before sucking the lobe into his mouth he added, “You’d be surprised what we’re into!”

Leaning into Buffy’s back, Spike ground his hips against her slowly. He was already rock hard. His erection pressed into her supple backside as he forced her into erotic contact with the gymnastic equipment. Buffy’s breathing came raggedly and in a very short time, she took over the lead in the dance. She increased their tempo, rocking against the stitched leather edge of the horse. Wrapping her right fist around one wooden pommel, Buffy reached back to fondle Spike with her left hand. Her palm massaged his outer thigh. Her fingers tugged at him, gripping his ass and urging him even closer.

Spike complied. He licked and kissed Buffy’s neck, her cheek and the blade of her collarbone. He ran one hand up under her blouse, pulling at her lace-covered nipples until she whined deep in her throat.

“Uh-uh, Luv,” Spike cautioned, stilling his hand. “You know what that does to me.”

“Mmmmhh, yeah,” Buffy sighed, slithering against him as she made the noise again. “Makes you come.”

“And what makes you come?”

In answer, the Slayer dropped her head back onto his shoulder and let her mouth open slightly.

“That’s right,” Spike acknowledged softly, even as he offered her two of his fingers to suck. His other hand had already taken over friction duty between her legs.

Buffy quivered, her muscles knotting up. She climaxed, releasing her hold on the vaulting horse. Spreading her fingers wide, she slammed her palm into the pommel instead of screaming. The wood cracked lengthwise. The Slayer’s legs went limp and Spike took her entire weight against his body. He ran his tongue along her jugular, savoring the salty taste of her skin and the wild pulse in her throat. Buffy’s silent spasm was similar to the last one before death. It comforted him.

“Oh,” The Slayer breathed out and then again. “Oh…hahk…Mmmmm!”

There was a white light. Buffy floated inside it. She seemed to be watching from a distance, as she clenched and quaked in Spike’s arms. Slowly, she spiraled up to the ceiling and then wafted down like a feather to settle into her body again. Her lover held her close, cradling her. His cool touch drew her back into reality. When she felt whole again, Buffy pushed against him and he released her.

Spike took his fingers out of his beloved’s mouth and transferred them to his own. Turning to face him, Buffy watched through starry eyes as he sampled her saliva. Dazedly, she picked up her jacket, hugging it to her chest. After the brief taste, Spike smiled sweetly at her. Buffy’s mouth started to water as he trailed wet fingers down his torso. Studying him, she tongued the sharp points of her canine teeth. They exchanged a searing look. Gripping Buffy’s shoulders, Spike turned with her so that his back was to the vaulting horse and hers was to the door.

Taking one of the Slayer’s wrists between his thumb and forefinger, he guided her hand to the obvious bulge in his jeans. Buffy curled her fingers around his arousal, her nails biting into the denim. Leaning her swimming head against Spike’s chest, still clutching her jacket in one arm, the Slayer rubbed her palm up and down him. Until he began to shake. Until his hips twitched uncontrollably. Until he started breathing.

“Want to be inside me?” Buffy asked. The sound of her voice barely traveled beyond her lips.

Spike didn’t reply. His body had stilled. The Slayer pushed away from him so she could look into his face. He was frozen to the spot, staring straight ahead and bristling like an angry dog. Buffy released him and turned her head to follow his gaze. Her jacket dropped from her suddenly nerveless fingers.

“Hello, Buffy,” Riley said with far too much of an intimate inflection.

“SURPRISE!” Anya sang out.

Xander, standing at his fiancée’s elbow, wiggled his fingers in greeting.


Continued...




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