Chapter 15
She woke with a start, fear clenching her chest at the feel of a heavy weight crushing her into the mattress. She tried to struggle, realizing in horror that her hands were bound tightly above her head.
"What are you doing?" she demanded of the dark figure above her, hating the tremor in her voice. Her heart thudded against her ribcage, and she was sure that any minute it would burst from her chest. Realization of what he intended to do flooded through her, at the feel of his arousal pressed intimately against her silk covered core.
She couldn't stop the whimper that sounded form her throat, or the lust that was starting to thread with the fear. Shame made her face burn, and tears stung her eyes. What kind of sickness did she have, that allowed her to get off on this.
"Please stop. I won't tell anybody, just. . stop," she begged, crying out when his hand smacked her across her face.
"And who would believe you, sweet Faith?" he asked, his voice low and menacing. It sent a shudder down her spine. "Especially when I tell them how you were panting for it." Her breath caught in her throat when his hand roughly squeezed one breast, while his mouth, lips and teeth closed over the other one. Pain lanced through her when he bit into the hard tip, her lust growing that much sharper. Tears leaked from her eyes at the dark pleasure, and she had to bite back the moan. A deep loathing of herself began to blossom in her chest, and she had to fight to stay in control of herself.
She shivered when he chuckled nastily against her skin.
"See? You want this. You like it when you're forced, when you don't have control. Don't you? Just the way Daddy did." She was crying in earnest now, her head thrashing against the pillow in denial.
"No," she gasped, trying to wiggle away from the fingers that were working on her panties. "I never wanted that. I don't want this," she insisted, sobbing when he ripped the material away from her. She was now fully nude, and helpless beneath him. She tried hard not to writhe when he closed a rough hand over her sex, her face flaming at the wetness she knew he felt there. *SLUT!* her mind screamed, the voice in her head sounding just like her mother.
"Oh, really?" he said, his tone deceptively light. "That's why you're dripping wet, huh?" Faith fought to control her body's reactions, focusing on a point on the dark ceiling. She felt a pressure on the back of her consciousness, the sign that the OTHER person was trying to come out. The person that laughed and smiled when Daddy had come into the room for their special playtime, and had done all the things he'd wanted. And had enjoyed them. That person she hated, even though without her, Faith would have probably killed herself a long time ago.
Faith struggled to keep control of her mind, screaming to the other that this was rape, and not something to be enjoyed. But the other wanted out, and she wanted to play with this new person that acted like their daddy. She wanted the pain and the violence, and Faith should just be a good girl and shut up and let her deal with this. She was too weak, too caught up in emotion. This was about lust, and want, and taking it no matter what the consequences. Daddy had taught her that.
"This is rape," Faith muttered stubbornly, fighting back the moan when she felt the tip of his shaft part her slick folds.
"Tell yourself that if it makes you feel better, bitch. But the only person you're fooling is yourself," he spat, slamming hard into her, making her cry out, the sound full of pleasure. "I'm going to fuck you Faith. And I'm going to keep doing it. You won't tell, we both know you won't." He growled in her ear, thrusting his hips hard, angling to hit her clit in a punishing manner. Against her will, her hips rose to meet his, her body straining to reach her climax. She didn't say a word, the only sound coming from her being the harsh breaths she was heaving. "That's it, you know you want this, you slut." His hands closed hard over her breasts, kneading and pinching, making her move faster. Sweat beaded their skin, making them slide together, as they raced.
Her eyes were wide and unseeing, her body not her own as she felt it spasm and clench when her climax ripped through her. She felt his above her, heard his grunts and groans as his own climax hit him, gasping for air. He tensed briefly, then collapsed on her, his heart pounding against his chest.
They lay their like that for a few seconds, until, as if coming out of a trance, Faith started to struggle and cry beneath him, whispering 'rape' over and over, denying her pleasure, and hating herself for having to deny it. She shivered when he chuckled, disgust penetrating her heart.
"Get off me. You got what you wanted, get out," she spat, her voice trembling. Shame, revulsion, and hate threaded through her, tainting her. He laughed again, but did get up. The chill of the room hit her, making her skin break out in gooseflesh, which she ignored.
"Now, remember Faith. You tell, I will destroy you. Nobody will believe you anyway, so you'll only be hurting yourself," he said casually after he had gotten dressed and removed her bonds. She turned immediately on her side, away from him, ignoring him. She didn't move when she heard him leave, except to turn her head into the pillow, allowing it to soak up her tears, and her words.
"Rape." She repeated it like a mantra until she was screaming into the pillow, her fist pounding the mattress beside her.
~*~*~
Johnny came awake quickly when he felt the solid punch land on his chest. He was groggy and sated, and it took him a minute to realize Tara was thrashing around on the bed, like she was trying to fend someone off.
"Tara," he called softly, reaching out to lay a hand on her shoulder. She seemed to struggle harder then, her eyes snapping open and staring unseeing at the ceiling. "Tara!" he said a little louder, catching the wrist of the fist swinging at him. He pushed up on an elbow and pressed her arm to the bed, grabbing the other one as well. Concern marred his brow as he tried to wake her. "Tara, baby, wake up. You're having a nightmare." He was afraid she was going to hurt herself, so he positioning his chest across hers, holding her down and trying to catch her eyes.
As soon as he did that however, she opened her mouth and let out the highest, shrillest scream he'd ever heard, the sound threatening to pierce his eardrums.
"Tara! WAKE UP!" He was getting a little desperate now, especially since she didn't seem to hear him, or realize it WAS him at all. She was still fighting whatever was in her head, and transferring it to him.
"You raped me!" she yelled, making his eyes widen in shock. She said it again, louder, her body surging beneath his, trying to get him off.
"Tara, baby, you've got to wake up. Come on, honey. It's alright, it's Johnny," he soothed, releasing one of her hands so he could cup her face. Bad move, he decided, when she clocked him on the side of the head, and raked her nails down his cheek. Pain singed through his skull, and the cuts burned like fire. He grabbed her wrist again, feeling a little desperate now.
"STOP, STOP. GET OFF, I won't tell." Her voice dropped from a scream to a whimper, her words breaking his heart. He was just about to let her go, hoping she would wake up if he made her think that the attack was over, when he felt two pairs of hands grab him, and haul him off of her. He was suddenly slammed against a wall, the breath whooshing out of him, and dazing him. He shook his head to clear it, and found himself pinned with four sets of enraged eyes.
Mark and Spike had him held against the wall, and he felt a moment's embarrassment that he was naked as the day he was born. It quickly dissolved when he saw Tara, huddling in Willow's arms, sobbing.
"Let me go," he said, trying to shrug off the hands holding him. They only seemed to tighten, and he looked at his friends in confusion.
"Don't bloody think so, you bastard." Wide shocked brown eyes, met cold, angry blue ones, as Johnny tried to figure out just what the hell Spike was talking about
"What the fuck?" he asked looking at his cousin, and flinching when he saw the same anger in his eyes.
"What's the matter, John? The little girl didn't want to play, so you decided to take it anyway?" Spike asked. Johnny's face lost all expression when that was said, his eyes going as icy as the blonde's.
"Nice to know what you really think of me," the drummer said, turning his eyes on Mark. The fact that he saw a little doubt in his cousin's eyes was the only thing that kept Johnny calm. "She's dreaming," he told them, his voice lifeless. Willow looked down at Tara, and smoothed her hair away from her face. The blonde's eyes were tightly closed, and she kept mumbling under her breath.
"I didn't want it. It was rape." Over and over, her voice clogged with tears.
"Tara?" Buffy asked, sitting on the bed and gently stroking her friend's cheek. Tara's eyes snapped open, and she heaved a deep breath. She surged out of Willow's arms, her gaze darting between the concerned looks of her friend's faces. It was when her eyes landed on the men, that she seemed to come back to herself, confusion clouding her face.
"What are you doing in here?" she asked, realizing her state of undress at the same time. Blushing furiously, she grabbed the sheet and pulled it over her. "And why are you holding him back?"
"Tara, honey. We heard you screaming, stop, and. . ." Willow started, looking at a loss. When Tara's screams had pierced the air, the other two couples had emerged from their rooms and headed straight to Johnny's. They'd tried knocking, but had gotten no answer, and when they'd heard her voice, desperate and pleading, they'd reacted. The sight that greeted them had them all gaping in shock. Johnny was sprawled across Tara, holding her down, while she struggled beneath him, telling him to stop.
Spike had reacted first, jumping across the room and hauling the younger man away from the terrified girl, slamming against the wall. Mark had added his strength, wanting to keep them separate until he knew what was going on. The girls had immediately converged on the bed, trying to calm the girl down. It had all seemed very clear, but now that Tara was aware, it all got fuzzy again. Buffy had a feeling there was irreparable damage between the men.
"I was screaming?" Tara asked, glancing over at Johnny and blushing again at his nakedness. He nodded dully, his lean, proud form slumped. "Let him go," she said, confused as to why they had him up there in the first place.
"You sure, pet?" Spike asked, feeling the icy stare of the drummer land back on his face. Guilt was already starting to work its way through the blonde, but she had been so scared when they first entered the room, he'd just reacted.
"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Instead of answering, Spike backed away from Johnny, and prepared for the punch that he rightly deserved. Mark let go as well, and watched as Johnny walked passed the bassist, never sparing him a glance to retrieve his jeans from the floor. Horror and disbelief had hit him when he'd seen what looked like his cousin attacking Tara. He was greatly relieved it had been a mistake.
"I'm sorry," Spike said, looking down at the floor.
"You fucking should be," was all Johnny said, never looking at him while he zipped his jeans up. He then walked over to the bed, his back rigid, face stoic, and looked down at Tara. She smiled softly at him, and held out a hand. He let go of the breath he had been holding, and sat down next to her, drawing her into his arms and holding on. Hurt and betrayal stabbed through him, and he fought back the tears that were threatening. He couldn't comprehend how they could even think he would do such a thing.
"Tara, why were you screaming?" Buffy asked, trying to figure out what had happened. There would be time to soothe bruised egos later.
"A dream. It was so real," she said quietly, starting to realize what had happened. She had been acting out the dream, and Johnny had been in a compromising position when they'd come in. She ran a hand through his hair, offering a small apology for what had happened. He just seemed to hold her tighter. She felt the tension singing through him, an sighed. "It was Faith. She was being raped, and. . .I guess I was reacting," she offered with a small shrug.
"Fucking house," Spike spat, searching his pockets for his cigarettes.
"Was it the house that made you think I was capable of raping her, William?" Johnny asked, turning to look at the blonde. The hand holding Spike's lighter faltered with the question, and shame rolled slickly through him.
"I said I was sorry. It was just. . .let's just say, you would've jumped to a few conclusions yourself, if it had been you walking in on it," he explained, knowing it didn't even begin to make up for what had happened.
"I'd like to think I would at least wait for an explanation, before I accused one of my best friends of attacking a girl," Johnny shot back. Spike sighed, and nodded. He really had no excuse. Act first, think later, cause lots of damage. He had a tendency of doing that when he got angry.
"I'm sorry, John. Not much more I can say." He waved a hand in the air, then dropped in defeat. Johnny stared at him for a long minute, before giving a curt nod, then glared at his cousin, but didn't say anything. He'd deal with him later. Johnny turned away then, and buried his face in Tara's soft hair, not ready to forgive his friend, but willing to let it rest for now.
"Look, why don't we all get cleaned up, and go downstairs. It's obvious Faith is getting a little impatient. Let's go over what happened yesterday, and in Tara's dream, and see if we can fit some pieces together," Willow suggested, thinking a little distance at the moment would be a good thing.
"Sound like a good idea," Mark agreed, speaking for the first time since he entered the room.
"Alright." Buffy agreed, standing and walking to Spike. She took his cigarette-free hand, and looked up into his eyes. She gave him a soft smile at the look of regret in his eyes. "Let's go," she said quietly, glancing at the couple on the bed before leading him out.
"Yeah. Come on, Mark." Willow stood, smiling at Tara, then followed Mark out, closing the door quietly behind them.
Tara turned in Johnny's arms, and held him, feeling the tension leak out of him, and the shudders start. He was angry, and hurt, and probably a little freaked out by what had happened. She just stroked his silky hair, and held on, hoping they'd be able to fix the damage that Faith had unwittingly caused.
Chapter 16
“Are you alright?” Johnny asked after a few minutes of silence. She was trembling a little in his arms, the remnants of the dream swirling through her mind. They were still sitting on the bed, Tara’s sheet draped form nestled on his lap, his arms around her, and her cheek resting on his chest.
“Yes. It was just so. . .scary, and sad.” Her voice was muffled against his skin, the sound of it full of emotion for Faith, and the horror she’d had to live through.
“I’m sorry. If I’d have known she’d transfer to you, I’d have never brought you in here.” He said, running a hand up her back, and causing her to shiver. She lifted her head, and looked up at him, her bright eyes full of concern.
“It’s not your fault. I WANTED to come in here. I’m sorry about what just happened.” She laid a soothing hand on his cheek, and brushed her thumb across the skin. He leaned into her touch, his eyes drifting closed. He gave a slight shrug, and held her tighter.
“It was just gut instinct. Spike didn’t do anything I wouldn’t have done. I wish he hadn’t been so quick to believe that I WAS raping you, or trying to. I guess I can understand, though.” He admitted, still hurt that Spike would think that of him. But after replaying the scene in his mind, he was glad that Spike cared enough about Tara to protect her, even from him. “I would never hurt you.” He whispered, opening his eyes, and staring deep into hers. She saw his need for her to believe him, and shook off the remaining feelings from the dream and smiled at him.
“I know.” She assured, and placed a soft kiss on his mouth. *But you can break my heart* she thought, when she pulled back. He was looking at her with such a lost look, and she felt her heart trip and stutter. He reached up, and gently cupped her face, mimicking her hands actions on his own skin. She trembled from something other than fear, felt her breath catch in her throat when he dipped his head.
When their mouths touched, fire leapt between them, burning them with its heat. He kissed her with a slight edge of desperation, wanting to erase her dream, and reassure her that he was safe. Her fingers slipped into his bright hair, tangling with the soft tresses as his tongue danced with hers, slowly and thoroughly.
When he pulled back, they were both panting heavy, and their hearts were threatening to explode from the force of the emotion they were feeling.
“You’re a special one, Tara.” He told her, smiling. She blushed, but didn’t deny it, knowing she’d just make him angry again. He thought it, and that was all that mattered. She felt the hold her father’s words had on her start to crack, and thought that maybe, she’d finally start to believe Johnny when he said these things.
“You are, too.” He smiled and kissed her again, slowly maneuvering them until they were laying across the bed, the sheet and the jeans disposed of, and her limbs welcoming him inside.
~*~*~
Willow emerged from the shower, her hair and body wrapped in a towel. Concern marred her brow, while she pondered what had just happened. Faith was becoming increasingly aggressive, forcing her experiences on the three blondes. And the voices in Mark’s head in the basement, those weren’t Faith, but it was something to do with her, and Willow was having a hard time figuring it out.
“God, I love a brainy woman.” Mark said, his teasing voice bringing her out of her thoughts. She looked over at him, slightly annoyed that he was fully dressed, and smiled.
“It’s a curse.” She said, dropping her towel, and grinning at the gasp he let out. She turned innocent eyes on him, and blinked. “What?” she asked, slowly picking up her jeans and stepping into them. She grimaced a it as she pulled them up, hating to go without underwear, but having no choice at the moment. She had to stop by her apartment before she went to work to change, anyway.
“You little temptress.” Mark said, pushing away from where he was sitting on the bed and stalking towards her. She blushed at the heat in his eyes, but held up a shaky hand.
“We don’t have time right now. And not that I don’t want to, we have to try to figure out what’s going on. Before it implodes you guys.” She said pointedly, quickly dousing his libido with the reminder of what had happened in his cousins room.
“Yeah.” He agreed, veering away from her and walking to the dresser to retrieve his cigarettes. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed, hauling her with him, and forget about Faith Wyndham-Pryce and all her problems. “We could just leave.” He said, taking a deep drag. Willow smiled as she pulled her shirt over her head, then walked over to him.
“Could you? Without knowing? I mean, we all seem pretty involved, now. And I don’t think that we could just let it go. Not without finding out what really happened.”
“Did you see the look on his face, when he realized what we were accusing him of?” Mark asked, anguish coating each syllable. Willow placed a hand on his back, and rubbed light circles over the cotton.
“Yeah, I did. But the way it looked.” She struggled for words for a second. “I’m sure he’ll understand.” She finished lamely, happily moving into the arm he placed around her shoulders.
“I hope so.” He said, laying his cheek against her soft hair, and holding her tight against him.
~*~*~
“I am such a git.” Spike said, burying his face in his hands. Buffy walked over to where he was sitting on the bed, and sat next to him.
“No, you’re not. You had no idea what was going on. It LOOKED like he was trying to force her. You just reacted.”
“He hates me.” The blonde insisted, not looking up.
“No, he doesn’t. He’s mad, and hurt. Once he has a chance to think about it, he’ll be alright. You’ll see. Now, stop beating yourself up.” She said, her tone brooking no argument. He glanced up at her, a smile tugging at his mouth.
“Yes, ma’am.” He relented.
“Good. Now, let’s get downstairs and get this over with. I think we need to get out of this house today. Forget about all this for a couple of hours.” Buffy told him, standing, then grabbing one of his hands to pull him to his feet.
“Maybe you’re right.” He agreed, draping an arm around her shoulders.
“Of course I am.” She gave him a smile, pleased when he returned it.
“I just really wish he would have punched me.” Spike said casually as they walked out of the room.
“Men. Why is it that you throw a couple of punches, then kick back with a beer like nothing ever happened?”
“It’s a testosterone thing, pet. Dates back to prehistoric times.” He explained, his tone telling her she was getting the biggest load of bullshit ever.
“Uh huh. Right there with discovering fire, and creating the wheel.”
“Yep. And don’t forget the ever popular mating rituals.” He said with a waggle of his brows.
“You come at me with a club to bash me over the head, and you’ll find out just WHY women live longer than men.” She warned, joining his chuckle as they started down the stairs.
“Wouldn’t think about it, luv. Wouldn’t even think about it.”
~*~*~
The other two couples were already in the living room when Johnny and Tara came in. They were holding hands, and smiling. Their demeanor’s would have given any one who hadn’t been present in the last hour the impression that nothing was amiss. However, since they had all been there, they all saw the awkward glances that Spike and Johnny cast at each other.
Once they were settled on the couch, there was a moment of tense silence, none of them knowing how to open the subject up. Finally, Willow leaned forward, and grabbed her notepad off the table, then settled back in the chair with Mark.
“Buffy, Spike, why don’t you guys start. Tell us what happened when you walked in the room.” The two blondes exchanged glances, then, by unspoken agreement, Buffy started to speak. She told them everything, starting with the necklace, and ending with Johnny banging on the door, her face flaming the whole time. Spike would interject his impressions of what Angel was feeling.
Willow took notes while they talked, nodding her head to let them know when to continue. Then, she turned to Johnny and Tara, indicating it was their turn. Johnny related the way they found the hole, and what they saw, skipping what they wound up doing since it didn’t involve ghostly intervention. Then, it was Mark’s and Willow’s turn. Mark told them about the voices, and how they seemed to change perspective. He was sure that the one voice was always Charles, but he wasn’t so sure about the others. Then he explained how found the passage from the basement which led up to Faith’s room.
Then, it was Tara’s turn. The small group fidgeted and hesitated, not wanting to rehash what had happened, but needing to know what she’d seen. Spike and Johnny completely avoided each other’s eyes when Tara started to speak, emotion clogging her throat as she recalled the fear and Faith’s thoughts. Her finger’s clung tight to Johnny’s and she hurried as much as she could, answering questions when asked.
When she was done, they sat in silence again, the sadness that was Faith’s life touching them all.
“I think we need to take a break.” Spike suggested, getting up and moving to the bar. He grabbed a soda, instead of the shot of whiskey he wanted. He nearly jumped when he turned around to see Johnny standing there. They shared a look, never saying a word, feeling understanding and forgiveness being given.
“Get me one of those, won’t you Alfred.” Johnny asked, indicating the can, a wicked grin on his face. Spike arched a brow, but turned and got him one, as well as one for each of the girl’s and Mark.
“Here you go, boy blunder.” He said, flashing a grin. And, just like that, they were fine.
“Alright, what do we have?” Buffy asked as soon as they were seated again.
“We have a hot affair with a hot Irishman. We have a hole in the ceiling over her bed, and a secret passage from the basement. We have a chauffeur who was scared and had knowledge of the affair. We have a rape. By who, we DON”T know. We know that her father used to molest her, and that she very probably had a multiple personality disorder. All in all, a lot, and none of it fits.” Willow ticked off the things they had discussed.
“So, now what. We don’t seem any closer.” Buffy said, her brows drawn together.
“I don’t know. Guess we could research the people involved. Find out what we can.” Tara said.
“Hey, what about that Riley bloke?” Spike asked. “Wasn’t he her boyfriend in high school.”
“Yeah, but they broke up. Then she married Frederick.” Tara answered.
“But, he might know something. He’d know about her father, don’t you think?” Buffy suggested.
“Well, tonight, after work, I’ll get started on finding the records of who worked here, then maybe we can see if any of them are still alive, and if they know anything.” Willow told them, glancing at her watch. “And I’ve got to go. Alright, meet back here later?”
“Yeah. What about Wes? Should we talk to him?” Tara asked, not looking like she really liked the idea.
“Not yet.” Mark said, standing up when Willow did. “We don’t want to dredge up old shit for him until we have more of an idea what’s happening.”
“Especially if he’s one of the suspects.” Johnny threw out. The three girls shared a queasy look at that.
“Well, on that note, I’ll see you after work.” Willow said, dropping her notes on the table, and starting out, Mark walking with her. “I’ll bring my lap top with me tonight.” She called.
“Bye Willow.” The rest chorused.
“Well, where are we going today, luv.” Spike asked Buffy, stroking a hand over her hair.
“I don’t know. Care to see the town? There’s not much, but it’s a pretty place.” She suggested.
“Sounds as good as anything. What’ll you two get up to today?” The blonde looked over at Johnny and Tara, smirking at the heat that was barely on simmer between the two.
“I-I need to go back to my place. Get some clean clothes.” She stammered.
“I’ll drive you. Then, we’ll go do something normal. What do you think?” She nodded, liking the sound of a regular date after the weirdness that seemed to have taken over their lives.
“Alright, then I guess we’ll meet back here tonight for more fun in Hell House.” Spike said, clapping his hands together. Buffy rolled her eyes and got up.
“Come on, I want to stop by my house too. My own clothes sounds good.” She told him, looking down at the sweats and t-shirt she still had on.
“I think you look smashing.” He said, smiling at her. She blushed prettily, then started out of the room.
“Going to go get my shoes and purse. I’ll be right back.”
“You ready?” Johnny asked Tara. She nodded, and they both stood. “See you later.”
“Right. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He called, chuckling when Johnny snorted.
“That leaves the day pretty wide open then.” Johnny shot back.
“Ready?” Buffy came back in the room, carrying her sneakers and purse, and looked at him expectantly.
“And willing.”
“Are you a walking hormone?” She asked as they walked out.
“Have you ever known a man that isn’t?” She couldn’t say that she had. She laughed and rolled her eyes.
“Alright, let’s get out of here.” They walked together out the door, closing and locking it.
Back in the living room, a figure stepped out of a hidden door in the paneling. He walked straight to the coffee table, where the yellow legal pad, with Willow’s flowing script sat. Picking it up, he read quickly, fear hitting him for the first time in twenty years.
“This just won’t do.” He muttered, briefly considering taking the page with him, but then discarding it. They would notice, and besides, the information was in their heads, not just on this sheet of paper. Tossing the pad back onto the table, he turned and went back to the wall, slipping inside. He’d have to put a stop to this little investigation. Quickly, before they learned too much.
With that decided, he left the house, making sure they were gone before leaving himself, a plan starting to form in his head. A cold smile touched his features, and he started to whistle softly to himself.
He’d gotten away with
murder twice. Who’s to say he couldn’t do it again?
Chapter 17
A few hours later, as the sun started its trek across the sky, Mark let himself back into the mansion. He was not happy to be there, by himself no less, but he'd already done what he could think of to keep himself out for the day. Willow didn't want him hanging around the Bronze, since she was in enough trouble for how much work she had missed. He'd stopped by a payphone to call Lorne, and listened to him bitch about how they only had four songs written, three of those Mark had done before they'd even left for Sunnydale. After he'd spent close to an hour placating the high strung man, he then walked down to a little music store that advertised they sold everything.
Mark had wasted another hour in there, before his stomach demanded to be fed. That meant a trip back to the Bronze, where he wound up meeting Johnny and Tara. Willow had managed to take her break then as well, and they sat down to a quick lunch. Mark had told them he was heading back to the house so he could try to get some work done, waving off the protests about going back to the house alone. Faith didn't make herself known during the day, so he reasoned he'd be alright.
Afterwards, Johnny and Tara took off for a movie, telling Willow they'd pick her up on their way back to the mansion. Then, with a not so quick kiss to the redhead, he went out to his rental car and made his way back to the mansion for an afternoon of, hopefully, writing.
He repressed a shudder when he stepped inside, thinking he should have invited Lorne down for the weekend. See how easy HE found writing when you were fending off ghosts at every turn.
Warily, he made his way into the living room and went straight to the bar, bypassing the beer he wanted, pulling out a soda instead. He flipped on a lamp when he walked back to the couch, thinking it silly with all the sunlight pouring in through the windows, but needing the false comfort. He had a vague memory of when he was a kid, scared of the boogeyman and thinking if he had the lights on, and the blankets wrapped around him, the monsters hiding in his closet wouldn't see him. He figured that ranked right up there with 'if my eyes are closed, they can't see me' theory. He chuckled a bit at the things kids did to survive the night, wishing it were that simple now.
With a sigh, Mark picked up his guitar and sat down on a footstool in front of one of the chairs. He set the can of soda down at his feet, then ran his fingers lovingly over the strings. He played a few random songs to limber up, his thoughts drifting lazily and settling on a pixie of a redhead. A smile touched his full lips as he thought of her.
When he came here, he certainly hadn't expected to meet anybody. And certainly not someone he had a strong feeling he could spend forever with. She was smart, funny, sweet and fiery all wrapped up in the prettiest package he'd ever seen. And the way she made his blood sing. Mark felt himself harden just at the memory of the night before.
With a rueful shake of his head, he dispelled thoughts of her from his brain, knowing he wouldn't get anything done if he kept thinking about creamy skin and glittering emerald eyes. He paused for a minute to light a cigarette and leaned back in the chair. Smoke swirled around his dark head and his eyes drifted closed, while his fingers slid effortlessly over the neck. A soft melody started to form in his mind and he went with it, pausing long enough to flick his ashes away. He leaned forward as the melody transformed into a song, the cigarette in his mouth quickly extinguished so he could concentrate.
The room, the things that had been happening, even thoughts of Willow seemed to melt away as he went with the music. He didn't stop until the final note fell, then he was off the ottoman and across the room to find some blank sheet music. A pencil was next on his list, and he found one sitting next to the pad of paper Willow left on the coffee table, then quickly sat on the floor and started to jot down the notes before he lost them. He didn't worry about words, that was Spike's specialty.
After a few minutes, he leaned back with a smile. The smile faded when his eyes fell on the pad of paper, noticing for the first time that it wasn't where Willow had put it. His eyes narrowed and he glanced around, telling himself he was being stupid, because he could have been wrong, or maybe one of the others had picked it up and looked at it. But something was telling him he was right, someone had been in the house. He unfolded himself from the floor and started to really study the room, trying to see if anything else was out of place.
Seeing nothing, he turned to head out to the kitchen, never hearing the panel slide out of the way, or the person who stepped out.
Stars exploded brightly behind Mark's eyes and the floor rushed up to meet him in the instant before blackness pulled him under.
~*~*~
Buffy leaned her head back against the seat of Spike's car as they drove back towards the mansion. The warm, early evening breeze whipped in the windows, sending tendrils of her hair flying around her head.
A comfortable silence had descended between them, the rhythm of the car and the soft radio playing relaxing her. Her eyes settled on him and she smiled, loving the way the dusk seemed to add an air of mystery to his sharp features.
They'd spent the day just walking around town, browsing in the stores and having a generally good time. They'd talked about anything and everything, the ease they had around each other amazing them both. She knew all about where he grew up in England, and she in turn told him about her life in Sunnydale. They shared a moment over the fact that they had both lost a parent, even though Spike was too young to remember his mother. She'd smiled when she'd seen the love he held for his stepmother shining in his eyes. Anya sounded like quite a woman, and Buffy hoped to meet her and his father some day.
They'd even talked about their exes. Buffy felt a blinding need to hunt down Miss Druscilla Cambridge and rip out each strand of her hair with a pair of tweezers for what she did to Spike. Of course, she guessed it wasn't all bad, not when the song he'd written about it had driven them to the top of the charts. Which in turn led him and the others to Sunnydale. So, in the end, she didn't know whether to punch Dru or thank her.
When she'd told her tale about Parker, Spike had been outraged. She'd seen murderous intent enter his eyes, it thrilled and scared her at the same time. He was ready to kill a total stranger for breaking her heart, and that thought made her melt. She was pretty sure if she hadn't been in love with him before, she sure the hell would have been now.
Buffy wasn't normally the sort of person who would believe that love would happen so quickly, but with Spike it just seemed right. He was courteous and sweet, sexy as hell, with a dangerous edge that made him exciting. The fact that he was rich didn't even enter into the equation because, so what? So was she. And money never mattered to her before. Why start now?
They'd stopped and had lunch at a small café, where they had spent half the time talking to residents of the town. She figured almost as soon as her mother got back, she'd be getting a full report about the young man that Buffy had been seen squiring around town. Some of them had even recognized him, he had been more than gracious to give autographs and had even posed for a couple of pictures with a few of the giggling teenage girls that had worked up the nerve to come talk to them.
They'd seen Dawn at one point, who Buffy guessed had gone up considerably in social standing, when Spike had bussed a kiss across her cheek. The teen and her friends were heading to the movies and had asked the pair to join them. The two blondes had refrained, enjoying their time together too much to want to sit with her sister and her friends. So, they had said goodbye and gone in separate directions.
They had held hands and stole kisses, their close proximity keeping their hormones at a low simmer. Buffy found herself questioning her decision to wait more than once, and had almost dragged him back to her house so she could erase Parker's memory from her bed. The thought alone had made her skin tingle and her pulse race, and from the heat in his blue eyes, she saw he felt the same.
All in all, the day was probably one of the best she had ever had. Only one thing had happened to dampen the mood.
They were coming out of an antique store, where a bureau had caught Buffy's attention. Her mother had been looking for something like it to put in her study, and the blonde had wanted to price it. As they walked out the door, they wound up running, literally, into Wes. Just the sight of him had the apprehension of the last few days crashing around her again. She knew Spike felt it too, after he'd been introduced.
The fact that Wes was less than polite didn't do anything to make it better, either. He barely contained his distaste for the musician, only shaking hands as long as was needed so as not to seem rude. He'd then looked at Buffy and told her the bills for the broken items in the house had been sent, his tone cold. Then, without so much as a nod, he'd turned on his heel and stalked away. Buffy had been torn between embarrassment and anger. He wasn't just a relative, he was also a good friend of her mother's, and it hurt to have him act like that. Spike didn't even blink, said something about Brits and poles up their arses.
Of course, when she'd reminded him that HE was English, he just shrugged and gave her a grin. He had been raised by an American, and that was explanation enough as far as he was concerned. She'd laughed, and let him pull her back in stride with him, but the way Wes acted settled to the back of her mind and wouldn't go away. The fact that he was on the very short list of suspects in their little murder investigation didn't make his behavior sit very well either.
It was just as the sun was setting that they decided to head back to the mansion. They were tired, and even though that was really the last place they wanted to be, they had promised to meet the others there later.
So, here they were, driving into the fast approaching night, heading back to the house and all its ghosts. At the moment, Buffy could have cared less. She was tired and happy, and more than a little horny. What else could she want?
"Hello." She opened the eyes she hadn't realized she'd closed, and looked at Spike when he spoke. A brief glance around told her they were on the road that led to the mansion. He was staring at an oncoming car, his eyes trying to make out the driver.
"What's the matter?" she asked, sitting up. She recognized the car immediately, one of the benefits of living in a small town, and frowned in confusion.
"Isn't that Finn?" Spike asked, not looking over at her until the car had passed.
"Yeah. But what the hell is he doing out here?"
"No other houses back here?" She shook her head and turned to watch his taillights disappear into the darkness.
"You don't think he was at the mansion, do you?" she asked, her blood trying to turn to ice.
"Maybe, saw none of us there and left again probably," Spike assured, not liking the feeling curling in his gut. He unconsciously pressed the gas peddle and urged the car faster, suddenly feeling the urge to get home, quickly.
"I'm sure he just came by to check on the new locks." Unfortunately, Buffy didn't sound so sure, not even to herself.
"Yeah, you're right," Spike agreed, pulling into the long driveway. They saw Mark's car and exchanged a glance, barely pulling the car to a stop before sliding out. They couldn't explain the urgency they felt about getting into the house, they didn't even want to. Something just told them to get inside. Now.
Without another thought, the blonde pair took off towards the door, fear at what they'd find clutching them both.
~*~*~
"Your car, m'lady," Johnny said, opening the back door of the car and waving his arm in a cordial fashion. Willow giggled and slid into the soft leather with a sigh.
"Hi Tara," she said, leaning her head back and closing her eyes. God, she was sooo tired. A double shift of waiting on snotty college kids was so not a fun thing to do. Even though she was one of those snotty college kids she so despised. For not the first time, she wished her parents were rich, or at least well off, so she didn't have to work so much and could have fun in college like the rest of her classmates seemed to be doing.
"Hey, Will. Rough night?" Tara asked, turning to face the redhead, as Johnny slid behind the wheel.
"Blah. Why did I agree to work a double shift on a Saturday again? Oh yeah, student loans and tuition payments. Silly me to forget," Willow said, rolling her eyes.
"Well, maybe you bat those pretty green eyes at Mark and he'll pay all your fees for you," Johnny suggested, his tone telling her he was kidding. That was the only thing that saved him from getting a dose of Willow ire.
"Nah, I'll just keep him as my love slave. Believe it or not, it keeps the energy up," she said with a laugh. Tara giggled, feeling her face flame at the statement, but not finding fault with it.
"Good idea. I'm sure he'll be more than up for that proposition," Johnny threw back, expertly moving into traffic.
"So, enough about my woes, what did you guys do today?" The look that the pair in the front seat exchanged told her all she needed to know. "Uhm, nevermind. Don't need the gruesome details," she said with a laugh.
"You sure? 'Fraid you'll leave Mark when you find out what a stud I am?" The redhead rolled her eyes, and looked at Tara to make sure she wasn't upset with Johnny's flirting before answering. Tara just looked at her, and smiled, not seeming to be bothered in the least.
"Nah, why go for the copy when you've got the original?" she asked, smiling evilly.
"Oh," Johnny cried, clutching a hand over his heart. "Damn, woman. You wound me," he said, turning onto Crawford Street. He blinked to adjust his eyes to the suddenly pitch black road and slowed his speed.
"I think you'll recover, especially with Tara around to kiss your boo boos," she replied. The blonde girl felt her face flame brighter.
"I kiss more than his boo boos." Two pairs of eyes shot to her when she said that, and she smiled nervously. Johnny burst into laughter, appreciating this woman even more. He took his hand off the gear shift and reached over to lace his fingers with hers. Willow stared in shock at the girl who not 24 hours ago would have stuttered through a statement like that, and felt a huge grin spread cross her face.
"You can kiss whatever you like, baby," Johnny said with a lusty grin.
"Maybe later," Tara shot back, giggling yet again at the look on the drummer's face.
"Jeez, one day of wild, wanton sex and Tara's turned into a potty mouth," Willow teased with a smile.
"What did you do, Johnny?"
"It's a secret," he replied with a laugh. He released Tara's hand when they came to a sharp curve so he could put both hands on the wheel. His brows drew together when he pressed on the brakes and the car didn't start to slow.
"Johnny, that's a pretty sharp turn. You might want to slow some," Tara said, glancing over at him. He didn't answer, too concerned with the lack of brake response to do so. "Johnny?" she questioned, looking over at him. The sudden slamming of his foot against the floor, followed by the car NOT slowing down, had her eyes shooting back to Willow's, panic evident in her eyes.
"What's the matter?" Willow asked, leaning forward. The curve was coming up fast, and no matter how many times Johnny pumped his foot, the brakes weren't catching.
"Ladies, make sure your seatbelts are fastened," Johnny told them, his voice tense. They immediately did as he said, fear clutching their throats as he prepared to force the car into the curve, and prayed there were no cars coming the other way. The road was inclined enough that they picked up speed, as opposed to slowing, their only saving grace being that there was no drop off. However, the only thing the guardrail separated them from was a crowd of trees. All of which looked sturdy enough to crush the car.
They all remained silent, the only sound being the squeal of the tires as he turned the wheel hard, his arms shaking with the effort. The car swerved, and momentarily lifted off of two wheels, causing Tara to shriek.
Johnny struggled to keep the car on the road, trying to remember if there was a flat patch up ahead that would slow them down. More than once the wheel jerked, trying to go straight instead of with the turn, which seemed to curve around on itself.
"Fuck!" he spat when he felt himself losing it. Without looking at the other two, he turned the wheel into a spin, hoping his aim wasn't off and his side of the car would take the most damage. Willow and Tara were both screaming by now, once they realized what he was going to do. "HOLD ON!" he yelled over them, squeezing his eyes shut as the vehicle tore through the guardrail and down the slight hill. The only sound after that was breaking glass, and the shriek of steel as it plowed into a tall oak. Then, there was silence.