Facing The MirrorsBy Raeann
Part One
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.”
Spike rolled off of the Slayer when she pushed against him. She sat up. On full alert, 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.
“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,” Harris 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!”
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 briefest 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.
Only the Slayer’s razor sharp reflexes kept the scene from turning ugly. She sensed Spike tensing a second before he sprang. She shot out her arm in front of him. With no preamble, she shoved him backward over the horse. The vampire hit the mat hard. He started to scramble up and was leveled with a roundhouse kick to the head. He rolled with the blow, tackling her as soon as he found his feet. They slid across the floor nearly bowling down the Scoobies.
“Be right out,” she yelled at the assembly over Spike’s shoulder. “Almost finished here.”
Then she flipped the vampire over her head, popped to her feet and shoved Anya, Xander and Riley bodily back into the shop. Without further explanation, she slammed the door in their startled faces. A split second later, something hit the door hard. There was a loud sputtering of angry voices from the training room and then an intense unintelligible muttering.
“Well,” Riley sighed, walking over to the research table and sinking into a chair, “I guess that answers that question.”
“What question?”
“He’s talking about the thing between Buffy and Spike, Honey,” Anya explained.
“Huh?”
“The sex thing,” Anya prompted.
“And again, Huh?”
“Come on,” Riley snorted at the carpenter. “Are you saying you didn’t know?”
“Sometimes Xander misses the obvious,” Anya casually commented to the soldier. “But he is a wonderful man in many other respects.”
“What thing?” Harris yelped. “There is no thing here?” Then he hesitated and glanced at his fiancée. “Is there a thing?”
“Looks like, Sweetie,” Anya said, giving him as small consoling pat on the arm as he too dropped into a chair.
After a pause the ex-demon asked brightly, “Does anyone want a pot of tea? Giles left tea when he went back to England and he was always suggesting a cup for these awkward moments.”
Neither Riley nor Xander wanted tea. The two men sat at a table, each lost in their own thoughts. Anya waited on a customer. Finally, Buffy and Spike came out of the training room. The vampire didn’t so much as look at the assembled humans. He locked eyes with the Slayer for several long seconds. Then he turned and stalked silently to the exit. The bell jangled wildly as he yanked open the door. With a swish of his duster, Spike disappeared into the night. Buffy looked after him, wishing she could leave as well.
“There’s a THING between YOU and SPIKE?” Xander asked, opening the conversation.
Buffy blinked at him, “Huh?”
“See?” Xander said, indicating her with one open-palmed hand. “That’s what I said.”
“No,” she denied with a frown and quick shake of her head. “It’s just,” she began and then paused, looking after the vampire again.
“Just what?” Riley prompted, standing up.
“Spike!” Buffy shrugged turning to face her ex. “Always something but really nothing.”
“Funny,” Riley commented, “didn’t seem like…’nothing’ from where I was sitting.”
Buffy narrowed her eyes at him.
Changing the subject and ignoring his insinuation, she challenged, “Why are you here?”
“Finished my tour in the jungle,” Riley replied. “Thought I might go back to school.”
“That explains why you’re in Sunnydale,” Buffy snapped, “but not why you’re here.”
“He came to see if you were still mad at him,” Anya informed the Slayer.
Appalled by this candor, Riley looked over at the ex-demon and then, quite suddenly, his expression softened and he laughed.
“Okay,” he agreed, his eyes twinkling. He turned to grin at the Slayer, “That about sums it up.”
Buffy also smiled. She had forgotten how sweet Riley’s disposition was, how comfortable he made her feel. He was like a buddy. Maybe this time, she thought, they could just be friends. No stress, no passion, just a rock-steady milk and cookies kind of male/female interaction. After months of swinging between the extremes of eroticism, molten surrender and frigid denial, it was nice to feel that sense of non-descript warmth radiating from a man. The Slayer sighed and relaxed.
“I’m sorry, Riley,” she said. “It’s good to see you. Really it is.”
Spike stormed through the darkness. He was pissed. In fact, he was beyond pissed and well on his way to seriously enraged.
“This is how it is,” he muttered to himself, “the Captain shows up on her doorstep after all these months and suddenly it’s ‘get lost Spike. Time for me to play like a good little girl again. Time to pretend that I don’t shag the undead; that I don’t spend every night in your crypt begging you to make me come.’ Well, if that’s how she wants it…fine. We will see how long he can keep her satisfied, now. Couldn’t do it before she came back from the dead with her craving for my touch.”
But even as he said the words, Spike felt the cold knife of despair in his gut. It didn’t matter to him that Riley wasn’t man (or monster) enough to hold Buffy’s attention. What mattered was the Soldier attracted her attention in the first place. It underlined the fact that Spike was only a convenience. There to satisfy her lust and nothing more. It made him feel like a glorified sex toy.
Buffy had made it absolutely clear that what she and Spike shared was a guilty secret, confined to the space of a room or a bed. Never to be spoken out loud. It riled Spike that she still insisted none of her friends ever learn about them. And it infuriated him that her circle of “friends” had just been expanded to include Riley Finn.
“Should have killed him years ago,” Spike growled as memories of standing under a tree outside Buffy’s window, listening to her and Riley in bed, came back to haunt him.
“If she lets him touch her…I’ll…I’ll…oh, god….” His voice dwindled away as it came to him that there was nothing he could do.
Spike hated what he had become because of the chip; because of her. He was powerless against Buffy Summers. He couldn’t fight his rival. He couldn’t kill his tormentor. And he couldn’t leave. Lord, knows he’d tried to leave her three times over. It didn’t matter what the Slayer did or how much she hurt him. Spike would stay. He would take Buffy back on her terms and give her whatever she needed in the night, even if she went to Riley’s bed in the morning.
The pain that accompanied that thought was so devastating that Spike clutched at his chest. It felt like Finn had staked him again. He needed a drink.
After an initial awkwardness and a quick call to Willow to make sure Dawn was safe at home, Riley, Buffy, Xander and Anya went out for an early dinner. The restaurant they chose was casual and crowded. The talk around the table was general. The Slayer sat opposite the Soldier, stealing Xander’s seat next to Anya. Riley told them about Central America. He mentioned the people and the history but glossed over the actual fighting. Xander and Anya discussed their upcoming wedding. Buffy was a bit distracted but she managed to ask the right questions and offer up reasonably good answers.
She was concerned about Spike but she didn’t think she would be able to shake Riley off tonight without lengthy explanations. Xander had his heart set on a movie after dinner but Buffy was worried about the vampire’s mood. If she blew off his plans for an evening with her ex-lover, Spike just might come looking for her.
Riley was back and Buffy realized quite suddenly that it didn’t matter to her, not in that big emotional turmoil way. What did matter was that Spike was obviously feeling territorial. She’d tried to explain why she needed to talk to Riley. But she doubted Spike had understood. Buffy sighed. Riley returning was yet another complication in her already over complicated life.
Adding to that complication was the fact that Buffy couldn’t help remembering what had happened the last time the three of them were together. There had been drama and high emotion, much of it beneath the surface. She had followed Spike into the night, into a vampire nest, and her whole world had collapsed around her. Spike had taken her to that place out of love. But, at the time, Buffy had imagined he was motivated by the joy of shaming her and causing her pain. The fact that she had trusted him to lead her into such a place had made the revelation so much more humiliating.
After a brief argument about who was treating whom to dinner, Riley and Xander went off together to pay the bill. The line at the cash register was long and slow moving. Anya and Buffy lingered over coffee and dessert. The Slayer was still preoccupied. She was trying to think of a way to casually drop by Spike’s place.
“And then what?” she berated herself silently. “Are you going to stay? Are you going to leave him a Dear Psycho note? ‘Please try to understand that I need to be with the humans right now. It’s nothing personal, but they can’t know about you and I.’ Yeah,” Buffy mentally scoffed, “That’ll do the trick. Spike is bound to be reasonable after that!”
“So,” Anya said into the long, uncomfortable silence, “what is Spike like in the sack?”
Buffy choked on her cappuccino and then gaped as Anya continued speaking.
“Vampires are usually so one dimensional,” Anya expounded. “Like it’s all about the bite. I know the three I slept with had such oral fixations. Well, let’s just say, once you got past the aura of brooding mystery there was nothing there. But Spike looks like he could satisfy a woman on many different levels. I was wondering if he really does?”
She raised an inquiring brow at the Slayer and took a sip of her own coffee.
“I…uhm…uh,” Buffy said at a complete loss for words. She shot a guilty glance across the room at Riley’s back and then hissed, “Why are you asking me?”
“Because anyone can see that you and Spike are sleeping together,” Anya replied and then reconsidered. “Well, anyone that ISN’T Xander.”
“Any…who? What can they see?” Buffy yelped, totally appalled by this news.
“Is this another one of those things that I’m not supposed to ask?”
“No,” Buffy began then corrected, “I mean YES! You are not suppose to ask and NO, I don’t know anything about Spike and his…sack!”
“Hmmm,” Anya said looking, puzzled for a moment before she leaned in to clarify, “You do know that I’m talking about sex, right?”
“Yes, I…you’ve slept with THREE vampires?”
“Dracula, as you know,” Anya confirmed, ticking off on her fingers, “Ictratius Galaitus and this redhead at Woodstock…I never really got his name.”
“I see,” Buffy gulped. She looked over at the counter for a minute where Riley and Xander stood in line and then she checked the surrounding tables for eavesdroppers.
She lowered her voice to a whisper before asking, “And…uhm…what was it like? I mean…were they…uhm….” She checked the room again, “Were they…uhm…generously and differently…you know…endowed? And, uhm…were they,” she breathed out the word, “Inventive?”
“Oh, yes,” Anya nodded, smiling at the memory. “Vlad in particular. Lots of stamina, too.”
“Yeah,” Buffy sighed, sinking back in her seat. She shifted a bit in the chair as her body responded to her thoughts.
“You ARE having sex with Spike!” Anya grinned, clapping her hands together, well pleased with her deductive abilities.
“How do you know I’m not thinking about Angel?”
“Are you?” Anya asked guilelessly. Buffy hesitated, distrust clear on her face. She glanced toward the men again. Anya rolled her eyes, “I won’t tell them, if that’s what you’re thinking. This is girl talk. Men wouldn’t understand it. It can be our secret if you want.”
The former demon drew a complicated hex sign in the air and then kissed her fingertips before saying, “I promise on the sacred bile of H’dnyalt Org I will never repeat what you say.”
Buffy thought about how much she wanted to tell someone her secret. Someone who would understand. Someone who wouldn’t judge. But she had never considered Anya a friend. Anya was an interloper in the Scoobie Gang, always an outsider. She had that in common with Spike and Tara. The bond of friendship existed between Buffy, Willow and Xander. But the ex-demon was right about one thing…Xander wouldn’t understand. Willow might have, once, but now she was almost a stranger. Buffy doubted she would feel comfortable sharing this secret with her Wiccan friend. Willow was too lost in her own dark temptations.
Buffy considered the thousand year old girl for a moment and then asked, “Can a Demon really love someone?”
“Well, that’s an offensive question,” Anya sniffed.
Then she saw the confusion in the Slayer’s eyes. Buffy seemed to genuinely need an answer. The former demon felt a quick rush of sisterhood. She scooted her chair closer and gave the other woman’s arm a reassuring squeeze.
“Well…as you know, there are many different kinds of demons,” Anya explained, “but most of them can and do love. In fact, statistically, I have cursed very few demon males for cheating, 250 tops. And several vampires of my acquaintance have mated for life…or afterlife or whatever.”
“Really?” Buffy asked obviously stirred in some way by this news.
“Oh, yes,” Anya assured her. “Vampires are pack animals. They’re a lot like wolves. All about hierarchy and the alpha/omega thing. Of course, they will have sex with anything that moves. And the sire bond can complicate things. But when it comes to true love, vampires are all looking for that special someone. I suspect that’s the attraction with you.”
“I move?” Buffy guessed, making a face.
“No,” Anya groaned, giving her new girlfriend a playful poke. “You’re the Alpha Female; the strongest fighter. It brings on the mating urge in the more powerful vampire males. And the sex would have to be fantastic, too. I mean given your stamina and flexibility. If you had a male to match you in endurance and strength then…”
“…it could go on all night,” Buffy finished. She knew her face was beet red.
“And it already has,” Anya guessed, favoring the other woman with a wide knowing grin. She bounced excitedly in her seat, “So how was he?”
“Oh, my God,” Buffy said, forgetting to check the room. Tipping back her head and closing her eyes, she placed a hand on her breast like a Southern Belle suffering a fit of the vapors, “You have no idea. The creativity, the natural talent, I cannot begin to tell you how good he is.”
“Best ever?” Anya suggested.
Buffy sat up straight and nailed Anya with a meaningful look, “The afterglow can last for DAYS.”
They shared a feminine moment. Anya broke it with another question.
“Does he do the purring thing?” she asked.
“You mean when he…” Buffy began and cut her eyes to indicate the Ex-Demon’s napkin-draped lap.
“When he goes down on you?” Anya encouraged. “Vlad always did the purring thing. It was very memorable.”
“Yeah,” Buffy blushed again, “he purrs. He growls. He hums. His tongue is just…amazing. And I can NOT believe I am telling you all of this.”
“You need to tell someone,” Anya said, patting the back of Buffy’s hand. The Slayer was watching Riley who was staring back at their table as Anya added, “I remember what it was like for me when I first fell in love with Xander. I had no female friends to share these wonderful new feelings with and…”
“LOVE?” Buffy interrupted with a snort, looking down so Riley couldn’t see the word forming on her lips she spoke from the side of her mouth. “I’m not in love with SPIKE! No love, no way.”
“But,” Anya looked confused, “you’re having sex with him.”
“Well, like you said,” the Slayer muttered, “vampires ‘will have sex with anything that moves’.” She looked up and saw that the men had reached the front of the line at the cash register.
“That would explain about Spike,” Anya responded reasonably, “but not about you. You are not a vampire. You’re a human being.”
Spike’s voice spoke in Buffy’s mind. “You came back wrong…a little less human than you were.”
“Humans have recreational sex, too,” Buffy snapped. “Look, the guys will be back any minute, can we just stop talking about this now?”
“Yes, but you are more than just human,” Anya pressed. “You’re the Slayer. It’s different for you. Vampires and Slayers are natural enemies. Why would you have sex with one that you didn’t love?”
“I said drop it!” The Slayer growled, moving her chair away from Anya and picking up a menu. “I really don’t like talking about this kind of thing, anyway.”
“Fine,” The ex-demon said, trying and failing to hide her hurt feelings. She looked up and spotted Xander and Riley approaching. Buffy tensed, shooting her a warning look.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Anya said, screwing up her face at the Slayer. “Your secret is safe. I promised not to tell, so I won’t. But if you ask me, you need therapy.”
“Therapy for what?” Xander asked, stepping up to the table and into the conversation. He held up Anya’s coat so she could slip into it.
His voice registered concern as he addressed the Slayer, “You still having those nightmares, Buff?”
“No,” Buffy replied as Riley offered her own jacket, “I was just telling Ahn about my unnatural fear of Maraschino Cherries. Ordering a mixed drink breaks me out in cold sweats. You just never know what the garnish will be.”
“Well, the cherry is a deceptive fruit,” Xander said with a suggestive nudge for Riley. Both Anya and Buffy rolled their eyes at the pathetic sexual innuendo.
“Stick to martinis,” Riley suggested as the foursome headed for the door, “Olive or onion, either way your safe.”
“Straight up tequila,” Buffy remarked, stepping out into the mild California night, “That’s my hard liquor of choice. No garnish but the worm.”
Glowing green eyes watched from the restaurant rooftop as the Slayer and her friends walked off down the street. The demon followed at a distance, stalking his prey. When the four friends entered a movie theater, the demon settled down to wait. He was patient, his kind was known for their patience.
Spike eyed the worm in the bottom of his bottle. He didn’t like the look of it. He didn’t much like the look of anything else in the bar either. Though, there was a brunette at the jukebox who wasn’t completely repulsive. She had one hip swung out as she considered the selections available for her dollar. A partially consumed cigarette dangled from her scarlet-tipped fingers.
She had walked past Spike on the way to the jukebox, leaving a tantalizing mix of odors in her wake. Old beer, new smoke and dime-store perfume were all layered over ready sexuality. The vampire studied her leather clad, extra-curvaceous form. His eyes assessed her from her ankle-hugging boots and tight skirt, to her chain encrusted jacket and home-dyed, over-sprayed hair. He knew what she wanted and what she was like. She was hard but easy. In the past hundred years, Spike had taken more women like her than he could possibly count. He had pounded into them, quick and brutal in some dank alley. Then he had opened up their veins to feed.
He couldn’t have the latter experience anymore, but Spike saw no reason why he couldn’t enjoy the former. He got up and walked over to help the brunette pick out a song. Twenty minutes later they were falling out the backdoor, locked around each other. Slamming her into the bar’s outer wall, Spike hiked up the woman’s skirt. He tore a hole in her fishnet stockings and slid two fingers deep inside her. The brunette moaned in response and tightened around him. He lowered his head to her throat pulling in the rich mix of store bought scents and then, quite suddenly, a good reason not to do this came to him.
Spike froze. He tried to shake off the images in his mind, to let go of the unnatural guilt that was threatening to consume him. He wanted to embrace the raw pleasure of this moment. The brunette continued to jack against his hand. But she was well-used, loose and barely damp. Spike’s fingers were accustomed to a tighter, slicker, fit. What had smelled like fun now sickened him with its tawdriness. Cursing himself and the Slayer, he pulled out of the woman and turned away. The brunette caught at his arm, first pleading and then adding her own curses to Spike’s as he shook her off and walked resolutely out of the alley.
“Dang, that was a long movie,” Buffy repeated for the fourth time as she rubbed a hand over her hip. “I feel like my sitter is still seated.”
“Yeah, but it was so good,” Xander gushed. “I mean those Orcs climbing the walls like that. Do they do that in real life, Honey?”
“There are NO Orcs in real-life, Sweetie,” Anya sighed. “I keep telling you, ‘it’s just a movie.’”
“But there are trolls in real life,” Xander reminded his fiancée. “And fiery demons.”
“Yeah,” Riley added, “and dwarves and elves.”
“There are elves?” Buffy asked with a lift of her eyebrow. “Are they like the little cookie making kind or…”
The Scyllain attacked. It surged out of the darkness, bellowing like a bull elephant, just as the Slayer’s party reached the edge of the cemetery. Riley stepped into the demon’s path, swinging a wild punch. The thing swept him aside like a bothersome gnat. It took aim at Buffy and she met it head on. They crashed together and were both thrown to the ground by the impact.
Xander moved in stabbing a broken tree branch into the fallen demon. Riley screamed out an incomprehensible curse, distracting the carpenter at the worst possible moment. Batting Xander aside, the Scyllain lumbered to its feet. Once again, it targeted the Slayer.
“Come on, then, you overgrown pine cone,” Buffy snarled, dancing in front of the creature.
She hit it with a flurry of punches and kicks but her blows had no visible effect. She spun a roundhouse kick at it. It blocked her foot, twisting her leg up so that she fell hard. Buffy rolled quickly to her feet and punched into the behemoth’s side as it plowed past her. It roared its rage and swung a paw that connected with her shoulder. Two of its talons ripped into Buffy’s flesh. The force of the impact sent her flying headfirst into a tombstone. As the human’s watched in impotent dismay the Scyllain bore down on the unmoving Slayer.
“BUFFY!” Xander and Riley screamed in unison, momentarily distracting the demon.
Spike came out of his crypt at a dead run. He had heard the first sounds of the scuffle but hadn’t paid much attention. If the denizens of Sunnydale wanted to kill each other, Spike figured it was no concern of his. His own desire to kill was wallowing in the bottom of his third or fourth bottle of scotch. He’d lost count of the bottles but the sound of the Slayer’s name being yelled out in panic, sobered him instantly. He moved with preternatural speed, scrambling up his stairs and out the door.
Targeting on the Scoobies, the vampire dodged headstones as he raced toward the fallen Slayer and her advancing opponent. Spike was still clutching his whiskey bottle. The moment he was in range, he heaved the glass container at the Scyllain. It struck the beast and shattered spraying alcohol. Spike followed up the first missile with a second. His flaming lighter spun through the air. It landed with deadly accuracy in a puddle of Scotch. The volatile fluid ignited and the Scyllain went up like an old Christmas tree. Screaming and beating at itself, the demon staggered away into the night.
Not bothering to confirm the demon’s departure, Spike was already kneeling beside Buffy. His fingers gently explored her. He murmured soothing words as he looked for broken bones or serious injury. The Slayer’s eyes fluttered open. Slowly, carefully, she sat up. Spike stroked a hand over her cheek and her nostrils flared. Too late, he remembered the brunette. The scent of his indiscretion was still on his skin. Buffy’s eyes blazed and Spike felt a sick swirl of unaccustomed shame. He pulled his hand back, wiping it against his shirt. Silently, he pleaded for his lover’s understanding. She looked past him to her friends.
Riley and Xander shouldered Spike aside. The vampire let them. The two men assisted the Slayer to stand. She wobbled slightly and then found her center. She didn’t look at Spike.
“What the hell was that thing?” Buffy asked, putting a hand to her still spinning head.
“Scyllain Demon,” Spike, Anya and Riley all said at once.
The vampire turned a suddenly suspicious look on the soldier. He was wondering how Riley recognized the beast. It was unlikely that the Initiative had captured a Scyllain. They were among the upper echelon of earth bound demons. Not easy to kill or capture because of their hive-like nature.
They could only be killed by killing all parts of them at once. And they were only whole on rare occasions: during mating or spawning or assimilating. Parts that were cut off from the whole through capture or serious mutilation would wither and die. But they would be replaced. Spike was dead certain that the one that had just attacked the Slayer was separated into components. He knew the fire would wound it but not fatally.
“So, how do I kill it?” Buffy asked when nobody volunteered more information.
“You don’t,” Riley answered. “It’s me that it’s after.”
“Funny,” Spike growled, “it looked like it was after the Slayer.”
“Buffy just got in the way,” Riley returned. “I was hoping she would be able to stop it but I see now that I was wrong. I’m sorry, I should never have come back here. I should go.”
“Yeah, good idea,” Spike nodded in cheerful agreement. But the Slayer was already moving to Finn’s side. She placed one hand on his arm to keep him from leaving.
“Riley, wait,” Buffy said. “Maybe we can help. Tell us what happened. Why this thing is after you?”
Riley sighed. He looked after the creature and then up the road. His eyes narrowed at the sight of a black SUV parked at the corner. He turned to stare down at Buffy’s tiny hand, warm against his skin. He could feel Spike’s jealous glare burning into him. It almost made him smile.
“We should get inside,” Riley said at last. “Somewhere safe where we can talk.”
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