Rating: Working its way to PG-13. Naughty bits are coming, promise.
Disclaimer: Joss owns most. Kendra owns Siobhan, I own Devyn. Not sure who owns Duncan these days.. think it’s Greg Widen, but since his appearance is filed under the “don’t blink or you’ll miss it” category, I’m not terribly concerned.
Distribution: My site- The Dragon’s Cave ( http://www.angelfire.com/tv2/firedrake ). Kendra’s sites, of course. Anyone who has my stuff and/or the Forever Series. Everyone else, please ask.
Author’s Notes: This is a continuation of the Forever Series, originally penned by Kendra A. Any and all mistakes are mine, since this isn’t beta’d. :: indicates thoughts, * indicates emphasis. If you see a sentence in small letters preceded by …, that’s a direct quote from Kendra’s sections.
Dedication: To Kendra, of course, who was not only kind enough to let me take a stab at this, but who is an exceptional author. DAMMIT, GIRL, don’t make me crawl through cyberspace and find you!!!
Feedback: ::taptaptap:: Is this thing on? ‘Cause I’m not hearing accolades. Got Feedback?
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Cordelia caught a third pair of pants that were tossed over the changing room door, pinning them back onto the proper hanger and setting them aside. “I really appreciate this, guys.”
Willow’s voice came from behind the door, muffled by the fabric of the clothes she was changing into. “I don’t think it’s us you should be thanking.”
“*I* think it’s us she should be thanking. I haven’t been thanked nearly enough yet.”
Cordelia caught herself before she could come up with something sarcastic. If this plan was to work, she needed Devyn’s cooperation. No matter how difficult, she had to bite her tongue around the redhead for the next few hours. Pretending she hadn’t heard Devyn’s comment, she focused on her reflection in the full-length mirror before her.
“Oh, I’ve already done my share of appreciative motions toward Spike and Angel. Though Angel giving us his credit card for this little excursion puts him in the lead, so I may need to make another trip to the blood bank.” Cordelia made a squeaking noise as Willow came out of the changing room. “That is the *perfect* outfit for you! Devyn, don’t you think it’s perfect?”
Willow did a little pirouette in front of the mirror, deciding that Cordelia was right. The hunter green, clingy dress *was* perfect for her. Sleeveless and falling mid-thigh, it was modestly cut in the front but dipped low in the back, held in place by a few well-placed slim straps. She met Devyn’s eyes in the mirror; the older redhead, sitting in a nearby chair with both legs crossed over the arm, gave her a thumbs-up and what probably passed for an enthusiastic grin.
Cordelia had already picked out her outfit; a glittery silver dress that fit like a second skin and rose to nearly indecent heights on her tanned thighs. She and Willow turned to Devyn, the same conniving look in their eyes. “Okay, Dev. Your turn.”
Devyn held up a hand in protest. “I already agreed to be party to this grand date thing. I don’t need to compound my misery by being forced into shopping. I’ll make do.”
“Oh, no you don’t.” Cordelia grabbed Devyn’s hand, pulling her out of the chair. “I saw just the dress for you out here. Willow, you get changed and give the dress to the clerk. Come on, Devyn.”
Willow giggled as Cordy pulled the still-protesting redhead out of the room. She was tying the laces of her boots when she heard the two return, and hurried out to see what the cheerleader had picked for the poor girl. She was seconds too late, however; Cordelia was physically pushing Devyn into another changing room and leaning against the door, preventing her escape.
“Now, Cordy.. is all that really necessary?” Willow was trying to use her “stern” voice, but was failing miserably. She simply couldn’t keep a straight face when Cordelia was braced against the door, occasionally bouncing forward as Devyn pushed on the other side.
“You know, Devyn, this will go much faster if you cooperate. Tonight will be over before you know it, and you can feel free to burn the dress.” There was a huge, resigned sigh, and mutterings of “you so owe me for this...” as Cordelia eased away from the door, confident that she’d won.
Cordelia and Willow chatted about the new shoe store they would be heading to next, pointedly ignoring the colorful phrases coming from the changing room. After a lengthy silence, however, they became a little concerned.
“Devyn? Didja get lost in there or something?”
“I am not wearing this.”
Cordelia wisely held in a giggle. “Devyn, it can’t be that bad. Come out and let us look.”
“No.”
“Please, Dev. If you really hate it, we’ll find something else.”
“Fine. But the first one of you that laughs..”
“We won’t laugh, Dev. Promise.”
After a moment the door opened, and Devyn stepped out into the larger room. She fidgeted uncomfortably, wishing yet again that she hadn’t agreed to this. When neither of the girls said anything, she dared to look up.
Cordelia had indeed chosen a dress that seemed made for the girl. A deep purple velvet that highlighted the dark depths of her eyes and the fire red of her hair, the dress was cut halter-style and showed off the muscular build of her upper body. The soft fabric fell to Devyn’s ankles and swirled around her as she moved. Even the few extra curves- that had the girls asked, Devyn would have admitted to being a bit ashamed of- seemed like blessings.
Cordy and Willow sat with their mouths hanging open at the sight before them. They couldn’t reconcile the rough-and-tumble girl they’d come to know with the soft, feminine version standing in the doorway. Mistaking their silence, Devyn dove for the changing room.
“I knew it. Get me the hell out of this thing..”
Cordelia’s sharp voice stopped the redhead in her tracks. “Don’t even think about it. You will get changed, hand that dress over to the saleslady, and we will head to the shoe store. If you’re very, very good I’ll let you help pick out your shoes. And if I catch you trying to sneak out the window, you will seriously regret it.”
Satisfied that Devyn would follow her instructions, Cordelia pulled Willow out of the dressing rooms to begin paying for their dresses. As they passed into the main part of the store, Willow whispered to her friend. “She has no idea how perfect that dress is, does she?”
The brunette shook her head, as surprised as Willow was. “Nope. But I’ll tell you.. I can’t wait to see the look on Spike’s face when he sees her.”
* * * * * *
The three men sat at the table and watched as their companions danced together. Angel was heading toward full-on brood; he’d said he would do anything for Cordelia, but hadn’t thought it would include sitting in on one of her dates. After the demon pregnancy thing he could understand her reticence, but really. He was having a difficult enough time hiding his feelings for Willow under normal circumstances; putting him into a situation where he had to play boyfriend was worse torture than anything he’d faced in hell. It wasn’t helping that the little redhead was looking more beautiful than he thought he’d ever seen her, and that the few drinks she had had at dinner had brought out her playful side- mostly hidden since the incident with dog-boy- that made her absolutely irresistible.
At least dinner had been tolerable, with Willow and Cordelia carrying much of the conversation. But when they had arrived at the small, chic nightclub (one that, for some unfathomable reason, seemed to be completely dedicated to the 1980s), the women had decided to adjourn to the dance floor, leaving he and Spike to make small talk with Cordy’s date. Angel was trying, he really was, but he simply wasn’t equipped to play friendly.
“So.. ah, Duncan. Been in the area long?”
The handsome- human, Angel had affirmed- man ran a finger around the lip of his shot glass. “Not long. I’ve spent a number of years.. traveling, finding objects for my antique dealership. I only recently came back to America.”
“All those years abroad.. is that where you picked up your accent? I can’t quite place it..”
“I was born in Scotland.”
Angel’s eyes brightened, even as Spike grumbled under his breath; finally, a safe topic of conversation. “Really? I was born in Ireland, myself. I’ve meant to go back for a visit for some time, but things seem to keep coming up.”
“It’s changed a good bit since I last lived there, but there’s still enough of it that I remember left to enjoy.”
As the two talked about their respective homelands, Spike’s tolerance level- low enough on a good day- dropped precipitously. “And I’d like to point out that we kicked both your sorry-ass countries back into the dark ages. Can we *please* go now?”
“Spike.. behave. You know the girls don’t get to go out much.. let them enjoy it.” Angel glared across the table at his grandchilde. Spike shrugged and downed his third shot in five minutes, his jaw tight.
Well, Angel mused, despite his own problems with the current arrangements, he had to admit he had it better than the younger vampire. Devyn made no secret of the fact that she couldn’t stand the blonde, and it had taken a great deal of bribery on Angel’s part to get her to not only agree to this outing but to also play nice with him. Devyn had started drinking almost as soon as they got to the restaurant, and luckily she held her liquor well; she hadn’t gotten into any arguments with Spike. However, her alcohol tolerance hadn’t prevented her and the other two girls from getting up on the nightclub stage and, at the DJ’s urging, leading the crowd in a wall-shaking version of “It’s Raining Men.” Angel shuddered to recall what had followed; all three dancing wildly to “Mony, mony” and adding rather- hell, *blatently*- suggestive words to the chorus that simply weren’t in any of the versions he was familiar with. Angel didn’t think either his or Spike’s luck would hold out much longer. ::This was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea..::
Angel noticed Duncan’s heart rate suddenly speed up, and a soft curse fall from the Scot’s lips. He followed Duncan’s gaze out to the dance floor, where Willow, Devyn and Cordy were.. well, he supposed that in some alternate dimension it could be called dancing. The three women were pressed together, moving to the steady beat of the techno music, their hands teasing over each other’s bodies. Angel picked up on the words of the song..
You look like you're lots of fun
Open up your loving arms
I want some, want some
.. and groaned. ::Hell yeah, I want some..:: In the close quarters of the popular club, it hadn’t taken long for a thin sheen of sweat to cover the girls’ skin, dampening the tendrils of hair around their faces. Angel’s eyes widened at the sight, his traitorous demon suddenly filling his head with vivid pictures of what the women would look like in a more.. private setting. He forced his eyes back to the table, his gaze falling on Spike, easily noting the flared nostrils and dilated pupils; knowing his grandchilde’s demon was no better than his own, his mind raced to find a distraction before Spike did something embarrassing. Angel stood suddenly, motioning to his two companions.
“I think we should ask the ladies to dance.”
Spike looked about to protest, but Angel fixed him with a glare that brooked no argument. Striding across the floor, Angel was relieved when the techno switched to a slower beat. He slid up behind Willow and put his hand on her hip, praying that she wouldn’t notice his shaking.
“Care to dance?” He murmured in her ear. She turned to him, smiling, and immediately slipped into his arms. Cordelia nestled into Duncan’s embrace, and Devyn reluctantly took Spike’s hand.
Devyn watched as Cordy and Duncan disappeared into the crowd of dancers, then turned her eyes to Angel and Willow. The vampire and witch were pressed tightly together, Angel’s cheek resting on top of Willow’s head, both sharing the most contented look Devyn had seen in a long time. She was startled from her voyeurism when Spike pulled her closer, grinning when she glared at him.
“Come on, now, pet. We have to at least try to make it look good. For the cheerleader’s sake, you know. Wouldn’t want her new beau to find out our dirty little secret. Look at the Pouf and Red over there.. I’d say they’re doing a bang-up job of faking it, wouldn’t you?”
Devyn’s eyes narrowed. “What are you getting at, Spike?”
Spike put on an air of innocence. “I’m not getting at anything. Just sayin’, it’s nice to see that some people are concerned enough for their friends that they go the extra mile.” He leaned in conspiratorially, and Devyn had to force herself to not pull away. “Unless, of course, you don’t think they’re faking it. Unless you think that the Pouf is secretly in love with the witch, and vice versa. Unless you think the real reason Red doesn’t want to go back home is ‘cause she doesn’t want to have to face the Slayer and tell her she’s got the hots for her old bed buddy.”
The puffs of breath he forced from his lungs to form words tickled Devyn’s neck, sending shivers to nerve endings that, she reasoned to herself, had no business getting involved at that moment. It was the alcohol, it must be. She mentally kicked herself for not stopping after a couple of shots.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Spike.” Devyn whispered, unconsciously echoing the earlier words of the dark-haired vampire. “Angel and Willow are just good friends.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that song before. Wasn’t true then, either.” He tilted his head, pretending to ponder something. “Or perhaps.. just perhaps, it’s you that’s panting after the great nonce, and you’re trying to convince yourself that he and the witch are only friends. Figure that way it’ll be easier to catch his eye.”
He pulled Devyn even tighter against him, letting his hands wander just enough to be intrusive, rubbing his body against hers. “You know, I’ve never figured out what it is about Angelus that gets the chits all hot and bothered. Not when there’s other, far more attractive options.”
Spike couldn’t figure out why he was acting this way. Not the teasing part- he was, after all, evil, and verbal attacks were one of the few devices left to him due to the chip- but even he recognized he was going too far. Despite their less-than-stellar introduction and subsequent interactions, Spike found himself drawn to the redhead. She still hadn’t told him how she knew who he was- or had been, actually- and no one else was telling either. Spike loved a good mystery, and this girl had it in spades. And the fact that, as he had noted on more than one occasion, she wasn’t too bad to look at certainly didn’t hurt. She was curved in just the right places, the way he always thought women should be. The cheerleader and Red were nice enough, and he certainly wouldn’t kick either of them out of his bed, but he couldn’t understand the American obsession with stick-thin chits. They looked so.. breakable. He’d been able to cover the burgeoning attraction, ::Well, except from Angelus, but he doesn’t count..:: but ever since Devyn had come down the stairs from Willow’s room for their “date,” giggling at something the other girl had said and looking positively edible, he’d been on edge. Now, feeling her pressed tightly against him, being surrounded by her scent, ::Lavender, with just a bit of vanilla.. she always smells so good..:: was just becoming too much.
His mood for the evening had started off foul, and was only getting worse by the moment. And his physical teasing was having an uncomfortable side-effect on him, one that- given their proximity- he had no doubt Devyn had registered. He should stop. He kept telling himself he should stop, that this was just too much. But before he realized what he was doing, his lips were tracing over the bare column of her neck, his hand moving slowly over her rib cage, barely brushing the underside of her breast, and the hitch in her breathing, the tightening of her fingers on his shoulders, told him she wasn’t going to stop him. Millimeters more, and he would be able to cup his hand fully around the soft flesh..
Suddenly he was gone, heading back to the table, and Devyn was left alone on the floor, confused and not a little frustrated at the unexpected turn of events. Sparing a final glance at Angel and Willow, Devyn turned and left the club.
* * * * * * *
later that night…
After arriving back at the hotel, Willow had gone to check on Devyn, not believing Spike’s muttered excuse of Devyn getting an emergency call on her cell phone (if for no other reason than Willow knew Devyn didn’t have a cell phone) but not wanting to confront the obviously testy vampire. Finding no one on the roof, Willow had left a note and gone down to her room to ready herself for bed.
However, her mind kept spinning images of what it had been like being wrapped in Angel’s arms, how safe she had felt, the hard muscles of his chest under her hands and his cheek nuzzled against hers, as if they were destined to be together. Willow growled at herself in frustration; Angel didn’t feel that way about her, he’d just been putting on a show for Duncan. But it had felt so real. Her mind flip-flopped back and forth like that as she tried to get comfortable in her bed, and she soon realized that despite her physical fatigue sleep would be far from coming. So she had changed into a pair of gi pants and a light cotton shirt and slipped down to the workout room. Putting on one of her favorite mix tapes, she had left most of the lights off and started with a short meditation.
Willow moved slowly through her Tai Chi forms, letting the soft, slow music guide her motions. She let her eyes slip shut, relaxing into the exercises and erasing all thoughts from her mind. She was so caught up in the forms that at first she didn’t realize Angel was in the room with her. When she opened her eyes to reposition herself on the mat, she started, one hand instinctively fluttering to her throat, as she saw him partly obscured by the shadows.
“Angel! I-I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”
He stepped forward, stopping at the edge of the mat. “No, I just couldn’t sleep and thought I’d come down for a little exercise.” He flinched at the note of desperation in his voice as he added, “Do you mind if I join you?”
“O-of course not. I’d like that.”
Angel positioned himself behind Willow, quickly picking up the form the redhead was moving through. He’d been partly honest; he hadn’t been able to sleep. But he hadn’t come downstairs for exercise; he’d trailed the little redhead through the hotel, wanting to be close to her, wanting to relive the too-short moments they’d had together on the dance floor earlier. He watched her, sliding through the motions without thinking, and reached his senses out to her, allowing her scent and the sound of her heartbeat to wash over him. He briefly thought back to another time, another place, another woman who had been gracefully moving through similar forms inches from his body, and wondered if he had felt even a fraction of the peace then as he did now. ::Willow does this to me. Just being near her makes everything so still, so easy.:: How he wanted to tell her..
Willow was hyperaware of the dark vampire mirroring her movements, of the swish of material against his skin, of the soft thump of his bare feet hitting the mat. Some rational part of her mind begged her to relax, whispered to her that he could sense her increasing heartbeat, but she couldn’t find it in her to care. He was so close.. why was he so close? She could just turn around and..
He reached out, fingers dancing along her arm to correct its position, and it was his undoing. The first touch sent electricity through both of them, flaring passions that they had been hiding for weeks. Suddenly she was turning around, she was in his arms, she was pressed against him and his head was lowering of its own accord, he could feel her breath on his face, could almost taste her lips, and it would be so easy to Just. Give. In.
But then he was gone, practically bolting up the stairs into the hotel, and Willow suddenly felt very, very cold and alone.