This is a fluffy Spuffy WIP.
Title : Doing the Right Thing
Author : Nightmelody
Feedback : nightmelody@hotmail.com
Spoilers : Post Chosen, Ats season 5
Pairing : Spuffy
Rating : Nc17
Summary : On different continents, Spike and Buffy both begin
behaving oddly. Their friends intervene.
Disclaimer : I don't own the characters, all belongs to Joss and ME.
Just playing with an idea.
Chapter One
"I can't believe it. I'm the president of a huge corporation, and I'm
the one they call to haul your drunken ass home." Angel shoved a very
drunk Spike into his car.
"Wal...wallwet... wallet." Spike explained. "Card."
"Great. Now, where do you live?"
Spike thought about it and then giggled. "Don' memmer. Remmemer."
Angel ended up calling Fred, who found the address. Spike had not
taken an apartment at one of the apartment complexes subsidized by
Wolfram and Hart. Instead he had a small house in an older, well kept
neighborhood. The windows had decorative awnings to keep out bright
light, and there were shade trees and climbing ivy. It looked like an
English cottage. There were even flowers in the front yard.
"You live here?" Maybe in a garage around back? The drive way was
covered by a carport, with a garage at the back.
"Mine," said Spike. "Ineres rates low.5.9 pershent."
"You have a mortgage?" He dragged Spike out of the car and found his
keys, which made him giggle again.
"Employee cred union," Spike took a few steps and reeled. "And
i...dim..fication. Goo cre...dit." Angel caught him.
Once inside Spike melted into a recliner that faced a wall sized TV.
A couch and computer area filled the small living room, and shiny
wooden blinds covered all the windows.
"Wanna beer?"
Angel felt like having a drink.
Spike's fridge held several varieties of beer, blood packs, dips and
salsa. Angel pulled two import beers out and returned to the living
room where Spike was flipping channels.
"Why do you do this?" Angel asked, flopping down on the couch.. "Get
drunk on your ass twice a week?"
Spike's partying ways were often a matter of gossip at the office.
Sometimes he dragged co workers with him, which really effected their
efficiency. Wes had reeled into work one morning, still drunk.
Spike didn't answer for a while, continuing his channel flipping.
"Nights 'm drunk, no dreams. Nesh... nex night, tired, juss couple
dreams. Other nights... too many dreams."
Angel still had nightmares now and then. "Nightmares?"
"Worse." The expression on his face was pure misery.
"Worse than nightmares?"
"Buffy dreams. Touching Buffy. Being with Buffy. Make me wanna go to
her."
Spike suddenly looked very small, lying in his huge recliner. He
chugged his beer and passed out.
Angel sat for a long time, thinking about what Spike had said, about
dreaming about her every night. It had been nearly a year, since the
battle with the First, and he still dreamed about her every night.
Angel hadn't dreamed about her in years, except when he'd been full
of that demon hallucinogen.
"Guess I'll put you to bed." He hauled Spike to his bedroom,
comfortably decorated in Navy blue and red. The windows had blinds,
and dark blue drapes.
Next to his bed was a framed picture of Buffy, one Angel recognized
as being from one of the files Wolfram and Hart had on the Slayer. He
must have found the file and down loaded it.
Spikes eyes fluttered open as his head hit the pillow, and he grabbed
the picture.
"Buffy!" He said in a conversational tone. "Luv. Mished you. But I
waz a good vampire. Din't try ta find you. Din't bite. Gave that lil
blond hooker wwot looks a lil like you fify bucks. Din't do her, of
course. . . hope your day wazz... happy."
He continued to babble on, becoming more and more incoherent. Angel
left, making sure the front door was locked.
He got to his apartment but couldn't sleep, so he wandered around W&H
for awhile.
Fred was still at her computer.
"Hi, Angel. Did you get Spike home all right?"
"Yeah. When did he buy a house, anyway?"
"Closed on it last month. I planted some flowers for a housewarming
gift. He mows his lawn with a push mower so he won't wake the
neighbors at night. He really likes his yard. He's growing his own
burba weed."
Angel sat down, feeling disoriented. Spike, living like a human? And
liking it?
And the whole Buffy thing. Shouldn't he be getting over her, a little?
"Does Spike seem to be getting worse? With the drinking stuff."
Fred paused keyboarding. "Now that you mention it, he does seem to
be drinking a lot more. Well, he always drank a lot, but it took such
a lot for him to get drunk, and I know he goes out every Wednesday,
because it's lingerie night at that one club the guys go to, and then
on Fridays he always invites me and Harmony out for happy hour and
dinner, and after we leave he closes down the bar, and on Saturdays
he watches his soaps and drinks at home," She paused for a
breath. "So, yeah, I guess he is drinking more than he did a couple
months ago."
"Does he ever talk about Buffy? When you're out drinking."
"Nope. But there was this one time when a little blonde walked by,
wearing a leather skirt and a halter top. He about fell out of his
chair. He went home right after that." She wrinkled her
nose. "Harmony said it was a Buffy blast."
Angel wandered away from her office and tried to sleep. Harmony
seemed to be one of Spike's drinking partners. Maybe she could tell
him something so he could get this off his mind.
He decided to just show up at her apartment. She lived in a W&H
complex not far from the office.
"Boss!" She looked at him in astonishment. She had been doing her
nails, hot pink. It matched the delectable nightgown and robe set she
was wearing. "Is something wrong?"
Delectable? Angel gave himself a mental shake.
"No, no. I just couldn't sleep, and I wanted to ask you something.
But I can leave if this is a bad time."
"Oh, it's fine. I don't go to bed early on Friday or Saturday nights,
anyway." She ushered him in. He sat on her chintz, floral, frilly
sofa. She was watching some girly movie, which she stopped.
"Well, I wanted to ask you something about Spike. You and Spike are
pretty good friends, right?"
"Yes. It was a little rocky at first, cuz of the breakup and all, but
we're friends now. I even met my boyfriend through him. Axel is a
shape shifter. He's totally hot."
"Oh. Is he here?"
"No, he works every Friday and Saturday night in Vegas. He's a white
tiger in a live animal act."
Angel noticed a scratch on her inner thigh. All righty, then.
"So, what about Spike?" Harmony began rubbing some type of floral
scented cream onto her hands.
"Um, does he seem to be getting worse about the whole Buffy thing? I
picked him up tonight and took him home. He was pretty pitiful."
"Well, now that you mention it, he does seem pretty... tied to
her. I mean, he could have just about any woman at Wolfram and Hart,
but he's not dating anyone. Plus, when girls come onto him when we're
out–which happens so often it's annoying, I'm so glad we're not still
dating, cuz I'd be so tempted to snap a few necks-- he always turns
them down. Heard him tell one he was 'taken'."
Angel sat back, thinking.
"Angel, do you know if he ever did a claim on Buffy? And could she
have, um, claimed him back? I mean, I know it sounds crazy, but
that's kinda what it seems like."
"There's no way. I saw her right before the battle, and right after.
I would have recognized his bite. And if it had happened, Buffy'd be
acting strange, too. I haven't heard anything to indicate that
anything is wrong with her."
*****
Across the ocean, in London, Dawn hit the speed dial to Willow's cell
phone.
"It happened again!" She screeched.
Willow winced and held the phone away from her ear. "Dawnie?"
"We were at a restaurant. One of the waiters had bleached hair and
kinda looked like Spike if you squint. Buffy flirted with him. At
eleven at night, she took off on a bogus patrol, wearing the shortest
skirt she owns and knee high boots. She's still gone and it's four in
the morning!"
"Okay, I'll be there in twenty minutes or so."
"This time, we confront her. When did she turn into such a ho? And
I'm pretty sure she's not using rubbers because of the whole vampire
fantasy thing. I DO NOT WANT TO BE AN AUNT!"Dawn was in her
screeching register again.
"I'll end up doing all the babysitting for free, because I don't have
super dooper powers."
Willow could just see her pouty face.
"Okay, we'll confront her. An... An intervention."
With a sigh, Willow went to awake up Kennedy, her ears ringing
painfully.
Buffy slipped in at seven in the morning to find Willow, Kennedy and
Dawn all asleep in the living room. She had a pretty good idea why
they were waiting up. She slipped to her room and locked her door.
The yelling could wait until she had showered and slept a little.
In the bath room she stripped and examined the damage. Yup, her whole
throat was a mass of hickies.
And that, unfortunately, had been the best part of the encounter.
She'd have to use the shower massage to finish the job.
Spike had never left the job unfinished. In fact, he 'finished' the
job for her at least twice every time. Sometimes more.
She used the shower massage until she found relief and then stood
under the spray, crying, until the water began to cool. She climbed
into bed and hugged a pillow. What was wrong with her, anyway? She'd
had sex with four Spike look-a-likes in as many weeks. Totally
unfulfilling sex, too.
At least this current fake Spike had used a rubber. Maybe she would
find one that could get her off, sometime.
Maybe she would dream about him.
*****
A few days later, Fred walked in to Angel's office with a bewildered
look on her face.
"Fred, what's up?" Angel asked.
"I just got the weirdest phone call from Willow Rosenberg. She wants
to make a robot, similar to the Buffybot they had for a while.
Apparently she saved her research on it online so she was able to
retrieve it after Sunnydale got cratered. She sent me her plans to
see if I could help."
Fred dropped a file folder onto his desk. "She wants to build a
Spikebot, for Buffy. It seems Buffy's been. . . um. . . seeing men
with bleached hair."
Angel just looked at her in a blank way.
"Um, Buffy? She's apparently missing Spike, a lot? So she's been
finding substitute bleached out pretty boys? Angel! Do you
understand?"
"Yeah, Fred, yeah. I get it. So it seems like there may have been a
claim made, right before Spike died."
"And now Spike is alive again. . ."
"Yeah. So the claim is functioning." Angel slammed his hands on his
desk in frustration. "But she was here in LA, that same night. I
would have noticed his claim."
"Angel, I know this is hard for you. But we have to do the right
thing."
"Right thing." He nodded numbly. " All right then. Uh, give me a
couple minutes and then I'll call Willow."
"Kay. And I'll do some research on claims. Maybe something about
vampire/human claims? I'll see what I can turn up." She left.
"Yeah, maybe it can be magickly erased." Angel hesitated for a
moment, then dialed.
"General Sorcery Department." a chipper voice said.
CHAPTER 2
"So, did you tell Willow that Spike is alive?" Fred asked Angel the
question he didn't want to hear.
"No, I thought I'd talk to Spike first. I told her you could start
researching the robot." Buy the Sorcery Department a little research
time.
"Oh." Fred blinked. "Well, it would be the right thing to do, right?
Talk to Spike?"
"That's what I thought."
As soon as she left, Angel poured himself a stiff drink. He was
doing the right thing, right? Keeping Spike away from Buffy, so she
could have a normal life?
Then why did he feel so guilty? Should he let them be. . . together?
No! That was insane.
*****
"Did you get a chance to talk with Spike? About Buffy?" Fred asked
Angel the next day.
"Yeah," Angel answered slowly. Well, he had talked to Spike. About
Buffy. A couple of months ago. They had both agreed that there was no
way she could have a normal life and fat grandchildren with a vampire
lover. "He's reluctant to let her know....thinks she'll have a better
chance at a normal life without him. But he's sorry she's grieving."
Not entirely a lie, right? Spike did feel that way. That's why he
hadn't run off to Buffy as fast as his boots could go.
Fred nodded, and then began to tell him about the materials and funds
she would need for the project. "I'll have to go way over budget to
pull it off, Angel. I wondered how a college kid like Warren could do
it, but Andrew told me he swiped all the research and most of the
materials from a professor he worked for."
Angel nodded. He wanted this conversation over before Fred could get
suspicious. "Anything you want is your's, Fred. This project is my
number one priority. So get right to work on it."
Fred wandered off, her brain abuzz with diagrams and equations.
******
Buffy shut and locked her bedroom door, even though Dawn was at
school. She needed maximum privacy today. She had taken a medical
leave of absence from the Slayer Academy, with pay. Yay Giles.
She'd done everything they had asked–well, demanded. Went to the
council's Clinic for Slayers, where she'd been poked and prodded and
syphoned of enough blood to make a decent meal for a vampire. She got
the birth control shot, watched the videos, read the pamphlets, and
attended a session of grief counseling.
She wondered if Faith had to go through all this, in Cleveland.
Probably not, because Faith didn't have a sister. And Faith was,
well, street smart. Unlike Buffy.
Before leaving for school, Dawn had muttered something about how she
didn't want her to feel bad, and maybe this would help her get over
the rough patch. Then she'd shoved a box into Buffy's hands, and
hurried off.
Buffy opened the box and dumped the contents onto her bed. A
vibrator. At least it was a good size, and covered with something
kind of like skin. Lubricant, very sweet smelling. She bet Willow had
been the one to buy this stuff.
Well, that was humiliating.
The last item was a photo album. Buffy flipped it open and her heart
entered her throat. She couldn't breathe.
It was a photo of Spike, taken while he'd been smirking, dressed like
James Dean. Another, older photo, from a distance, in a restaurant,
wearing an old fashioned suit. One of a hippie Spike, wearing a
leather fringy vest over bare skin, and pouting. Another, very old, a
formal pose.
Watcher's Council pictures of William the Bloody.
Buffy cried, ugly gasping sobs that made her shake, tears like she
hadn't shed for her mother, or for Tara, or any of those little girls
she had buried, or for Anya, or Spike. She'd been too busy, too full
of responsibility, the last hope for the fate of the world, to cry
much. She'd had to try to beat Glory, and later, Willow. Then there
had been the First, too much to do, in too desperate of
circumstances. . . and Spike, who had been her rock through those
awful times–except when she had forced him out of her life– now he
was gone, and she felt like there was a gaping hole in her life. A
growing wound. S he missed him now more than she had the first month
he'd been gone.
There was something wrong about that, the missing getting worse
instead of better. Even Buffy knew that. The counselor had taken a
ton of notes, and hmm hmmed a lot.
So now instead of feeling crazy, horny and sad, she also felt guilty
and freakish. Gosh it was rewarding, doing the right thing.
Buffy tossed everything off her bed except the photos, and crawled
under the covers. She rolled onto her stomach and snaked an arm under
her bed. There it was, a half empty pint of vanilla schnapps. Well,
it was only ten in the morning. She'd have to put it in her coffee.
But it was either that or show up at Ian-the-Spike-a-like's dingy
efficiency apartment.
Her head pounded from crying so hard, and she felt exhausted.Buffy
shoved the empty bottle under her bed and flopped back on the pillows
with the photo album. Her head was spinning, and she felt pleasantly
warm. She hadn't had a day off in a very long time. Even the weekends
were busy with Slayer and Council related things.
I wish I could just be an ordinary girl, with a job and a couple of
classes. Not the 'Oldest Living Slayer.' Being around all this slayer
stuff makes it so hard to get over Spike's death.
Dawn's done with school in a month and will start college in the
fall. She want's to go to that Witch retreat with Willow for six
weeks this summer, which is great with me.
I miss California. I want to go back, get a job, take some classes.
No more slaying, no more...she fell asleep.
. . . Spike was on the beach,naked in the sun. He was closer to the
water than she was, walking with that loose, feline grace that was
characteristic of only him. The muscles in his back and buttocks
rippled in the light. He turned his head and looked at her over his
shoulder, a smile curving his lips, his eyes glittering in the
sunlight.
"You're not supposed to be out in the sun, Spike." She admonished
him, but his smile just got bigger. He held out a hand to her, and
she rushed and took it.
Their hands clasped, fingers intertwined, and he pulled her hand to
his lips so he could kiss her finger tips. "You know that doesn't
matter anymore, love. Not now that we are joined. Your strengths are
mine, and mine are yours."
His soft lips brushed against her fingers and sent shivers down her
spine, and his voice was enough to melt her. "So you get to be in
sunshine, now? What do I get?."
"You get me, for always." He pulled her closer with the hand clasp,
and she could see he was fully aroused.
"Always?" She slid her other hand up his stomach to his neck, and he
shivered. She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him softly,
tracing his full lower lip with the tip of her tongue.
His arms curled around her and she felt so safe, so right. The kiss
became passionate, and they gradually slipped down to the sand at the
waters edge, while his lips and tongue found her nipples, his hands
molded every part of her with gliding caresses, gentle touches that
made her tremble.
Her own hands trailed over his smooth ivory flesh, possessing him.
Her finger tips found his nipples and lingered there with soft
strokes and pinches, making him gasp.
His fingers found her core, and stroked her, reveling in her warmth
and wetness. he glided two fingers over her clit and relished the
sound of her breath hitching. "Ride me," he whispered.
He fell back onto the sand, his big hands gripping her hips and
pulling her on top of him. She guided his rigid flesh into her and he
helped her lower herself onto him. She shivered in delight as he
filled her almost to overflowing.
His hands still gripped her hips and he moved them in a figure eight.
She used her inner muscles to grip and release his cock, and he flung
his head back, eyes shut, and grimaced. "Got to stop that now or I'll
never last," he gasped.
"Someone's a little out of control?" she asked, smiling
He heaved his hips upward, bucking her, and when she landed down on
him he had placed his fingers so her clit would hit right--there.
Shards of ecstacy ran through her and she almost lost her balance,
reeling backward until his free hand caught her.
"Someone's a little off balance?" He gave a breathy chuckle.
Buffy didn't feel like playing anymore. She stretched out over him so
she could nuzzle his neck with open mouthed kisses. "I can't help it.
You make me crazy."
"Me, too. Crazy for you. While we were apart I thought I was going to-
-"
"–-Shh," Buffy stopped him with her lips against his. "No more
thinking about that. We're together now." She pushed down on his
cock, hard.
"Oh, God," he moaned and his eyes glittered behind his lashes as he
drank in the sight of her kneeling naked over him.
Buffy woke up to find she had been using the vibrator during her
dream, and her body was still reeling from an explosive orgasm. She
turned it off and tossed it to the foot of her bed. As she dragged
the covers back up to cover her now chilling body, she noticed her
knees, which stung a little.
They were covered with tiny, red indentations, as if she had been
kneeling in the sand.
Chapter Three
Faith dreamed. She and Buffy were the Chosen Two, again. They were
dressed alike in black leather pants and red silky tank tops.
Matching shiny, dark red lipstick and fingernails, too. They looked
fuckin' hot.
The two of them walked through a cemetery, a Cleveland cemetery, with
those big damn trees that vamps hid behind. But they were unafraid,
strutting with power and confidence. They dusted vamps almost
effortlessly, their moves as graceful as a dancers. They laughed and
quipped, having a great time.
Suddenly a group of vamps came out of nowhere. Soon they were engaged
in a heated fight, dust flew everywhere.
A vamp jumped from the top of a mausoleum, his hair gleaming white in
the moonlight, and then down to the midst of the vampires, who had
surrounded Buffy. Faith fought her way toward her, worried now. The
new vamp began to dust Buffy's assailants. Oh, it's Spike, Faith
realized, relieved. Where'd he come from?
Buffy, still struggling with a large, strong vamp, didn't see Spike.
But the Scoobies did. They were standing in the door of the
mausoleum. They grabbed Buffy and gestured to Faith to keep silent.
Then the door of the mausoleum closed around Buffy and the Scoobies.
Spike dusted the remaining vamps, leaped up onto a crypt and
disappeared.
Faith woke up, her heart racing from the fight. Now, that was some
weird dream. And it seemed, well, like a slayer dream. She wondered
if Buffy had had the same dream, like they used to experience. But it
made absolutely no sense, because Spike was dead, and she and Buffy
were on different continents. Some other slayer's dream, maybe?
And it had already happened, she thought. Spike had saved Buffy, and
now she was with the Scoobies, doing the New Council crap.
Faith punched her pillow and rolled over, ready to get back to sleep.
Just a dream. . . about the past. . .
But somewhere inside, she still wondered. She couldn't sleep. She got
up and headed toward the kitchen, tripping over somebody's shoes in
the dark. Damn kids, never put their stuff up after patrol. She
really needed to get tougher with them.
The kitchen was huge, large enough to hold a full size table and
chair set, and still have room to get around. It was a nice house, a
big two story home built in the fifties. The nicest house Faith had
ever lived in, thanks to the New Council. But it was a mess–dishes in
the sink, spills dried on the floor, junk on the counter.
Faith found the coffee. Might as well stay up. Use her slayer
strength to clean the house.
She always thought best when she was doing mindless work–found that
out in prison. This Buffy dream. . . she needed to think about it
***
Spike crawled out of bed and crashed into the shower, barely opening
his eyes. He knew it was morning, could feel it.
Could feel the mess he'd made of himself, too. Another one of those
dreams. This time, they'd been on the beach in full sunlight, like
some kind of cliche Hawaii honeymoon flick.
And it had seemed so real. Buffy's skin had gleamed from the sweet
smelling sun screen oil she was wearing, and her hair had shone so in
the sun. He could remember how every move had felt, as though it had
just happened. The way her hard pink nipples had felt, brushing
across his chest. . . his cock trapped in her wet, tight pussy while
she clenched him. . . her knees gripping him so hard he would
bruise. . .
The dreams were getting more powerful as time went by. That was
weird. He was weird. Probably need the help of a good vamp
psychiatrist, not that he'd go to the one Wolfram and Hart kept on
the payroll.
He sighed, and rested his head against the tile, letting the spray
pound his back. His unlife sucked.
The water started to cool and he finally opened his eyes to find the
shampoo, which was on the floor. Surrounded by sand. Fine, white
gleaming sand, just like the sand in his tropical Buffy dream.
That did it. He needed professional help.
He dressed and drove to W&H, to the office he rarely used. Once at
the computer he began a search of W&H resources.
Witches, he typed into the search engine. It pulled up a menu with
different links: Affiliated with W&H, Black Magick, Chaos, Dead,
Demon, Hollywood, Vampire, Vengeance, White Magic, Willow.
He clicked on White Magic, and soon printed out a list of contacts.
He began to dial numbers.
An hour later he slammed the phone down. Figured. The witch who
sounded like she could do the job he wanted lived right smack on a
hell mouth. Cleveland, here I come.
***
Buffy sat in a neighborhood coffee shop and wondered what she should
do. She was on a leave of absence for a while from Slayer training.
She felt like getting away from London. And from Giles, Willow and
Dawn. Maybe a change of scenery was what she needed.
She needed to do something. Between her own urges and her sister and
friends she felt like she was in a cage.
A solution occurred to her after her third cup of coffee. Faith!
She'd go visit Faith. She could do some good, help with training the
new slayers, dust a few vamps. She and Faith could go out on the
town, and Faith wouldn't get upset if she met some guy. . . it would
be fun, free.
She hurried home to call the airlines and pack.
Chapter 4
"It's perfect," said Angel."It's even annoying, just like the real
Spike."
Angel and Fred were in her lab, sending the Spikebot through its
paces. It was currently playing pinball, drinking Jack Daniels, and
cussing. Fred had one of her flunkies get a custom replica of Spike's
leather coat made, at an exorbitant cost. It looked completely real
Fred looked pleased. "We used Security tapes to replicate movement
and speech patterns. I must say, it turned out better than I ever
expected it too. The technology is just amazing! I wonder about this
professor Warren stole the research from."
"Yeah, it does seem kind of , well, government top secret. Maybe we
should investigate."
"I'll call Andrew, see what he remembers." Fred said.
"Great. I'll get one our investigators on it after you've talked to
him. Get someone up from shipping to get that thing packed, and
we'll get it off to Willow."
"Right away, Angel."
While his bot was getting packed in a custom foam lined casing, Spike
was driving Angel's black Viper to Cleveland. Flying had been an
option, but the thrill of driving a high performance vehicle with
necrotempered glass and a state of the art sound system had easily
made up for the extra time spent driving across country.
The trip went without incident until he stopped at a backwater truck
stop in Ohio for gas. Though it was three in the morning the place
was busy with truckers drinking coffee in the café and employees in
red striped shirts stocking shelves and waiting on customers.
Spike bought gas and decided to pick up some jalapeno chips, almost
as tasty as blooming onions.
A blond haired girl was working the cash register along with a
pimply young man.
"What pump, sir?' She asked with a slightly crooked smile on her full
lips.
"Th. . . " Spike stuttered, staring at the girl in disbelief. Warm
honey and wheat streaked hair, enormous eyes with incredibly long
brown lashes, full coral red lips.
"Three?" She asked in a friendly way.
"Glinda? I mean, Tara?
The girls face blanched white, her eye grew round and she took a step
back from the register, clutching her hands to her chest. "Y...You
know me? You know my name?"
"That'll be thirty three dollars," The young man said, and Spike
threw him a fifty with out taking his eyes off the girl. The voice
was right, and even more telling, the scent was right.
Her employee name tag read Jana D.
"Tara. Your name is Tara McClay." He was almost astonished he
remembered her surname after all this time.
"Brian, I need to take a break." She walked out to the front of the
store , her face still white and shocked. They went outside and stood
on the sidewalk.
"You're supposed to be dead," Spike said.
"There was a big earthquake in California--"
"--You died a good two years before that, and it wasn't an
earthquake. We closed the Hellmouth."
"I d-don't remember anything. I was found wandering around south LA,
dressed in rags. They took me to a shelter, and decided I must be a
survivor of that earth quake. The timing is right. Nearly a year,
now."
"Listen to me.' Spike grabbed her by the shoulders but quickly let
her go when her eyes widened in alarm. " Some of this has to make
sense to you. I know you're Tara. You can't fake your scent."
She looked at him in astonishment. "Scent? What are you talking
about?"
Spike took a breath. He needed to explain this right.
"We need to sit down, so we can talk."
"Okay. Just a sec." She ran into the building and came out a short
time later with a ragged sweatshirt and a backpack."
"I got off work. We can go to my place. But you should know that I
left your licence plate number with Brian and we and the car are
being recorded by state of the are security cameras. Just in case
you're an ax murderer." She said in a serious tone.
She didn't have a car. He followed her directions to a quiet street
in a small town, and followed her into a tiny attic apartment in a
dilapidated old house.
"Do you want something to drink? I have tea and diet cola."
She waved toward a worn love seat and chair in the tiny living
room /kitchen combo and opened two colas.
"My name is Spike. We knew each other in Sunnydale–"
"--That's the town! The earthquake town! So I was from there." She
sat down on the love seat with a bounce, an expression of delight on
her face.
"You have family some where in the northwest, a dad and brother, but
you weren't close. You went to college at UC Sunnydale."
"But what do you mean that I died two years ago?"
Spike searched for words. "Look, what I'm going to tell you is going
to sound crazy, but I can prove it some. So just hear me out."
She nodded, big eyed.
"Sunnydale wasn't an ordinary town. It was a Hell mouth, an opening
to hell dimensions. The biggest one in the world, actually. Demons
and such from the depths could get up here from Sunnydale, it
attracted all types of dark ness."
Spike paused. "You were not ordinary either. You were a powerful
witch, and you got involved with another witch named Willow. You
weren't like most folk in Sunnydale, who were in denial about all the
demon activity in the town. You saw it."
"Any way, Willow was one of the scoobies. They were a bunch of kids
who helped the Slayer. The Slayer was a girl with a mystical calling
to kill vampires and other demons. One girl in every generation. . .
this one's name was Buffy, and she was the best Slayer there ever
was. Willow was her best friend, and you were Willow's lover. You and
Willow were witches."
"Wait a. . . a minute! I was gay?"
"Yeah. You and Willow were in love, but Willow had a problem with
misusing magic. Eventually you broke up with her because she did some
manipulative stuff to you with magic. But you did get back together,
later. Then you and Buffy were shot by a wacko, and you died."
"Last spring we were involved in a battle with this really evil
entity who wanted to end the world, another bloody apocalypse. We got
a hold of this amulet and Buffy gave it to me to wear. On the day fo
the battle it went wild and burned up all these super vampires and
caused the hell mouth to collapse. I died, but somehow was brought
back to life because of the amulet. I think all the mystical stuff
might have brought you back, too."
Tara was silent for a long time. 'But it doesn't make sense. Demons
and mystical stuff. Me, a witch?'
"Don't forget lesbian."
"Well, that part, it. . . it actually kind of makes sense." Tara's
cheeks turned pink.
Spike chuckled. "You were a good witch. Ethical. And I can prove some
of this stuff, but I don't want to scare you."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not what I look like either. I'm a good guy, but I have a
demon, too. I could bring it out for a minute so you could see." He
shrugged at her blank expression. "My face changes."
Since she just looked at him in a confused way, Spike went into game
face.
She squealed. Then she stopped and looked at him with a critical
eye. "Can I touch? Might be fake."
Spike shrugged.
She drew warm fingers over his face and gasped. "You're real. And
you're seeking something." Her fingers continued to drift across his
face. "Peace. Let me rest in peace"
She hummed the song he had once sung to Buffy, a song she had never
heard. It was Spike's turn to gasp. "Witch!"
She frowned at him. "You're a predator, I can tell by the teeth. What
exactly do you hunt?"
Chapter Five
*Cleveland, one week later.*
It as a Hell mouth, all right. No doubt about it. Spike could feel
jittery, aggressive energy flow through his entire body, making his
demon stand up and take notice. Hadn't felt anything like this since
Sunnydale.
Kind of invigorating.
It was late, past midnight. He'd said goodnight to Tara/Jana shortly
after accompanying her to a restaurant. Didn't think he should let
her walk around a Hellmouth after dark by herself. Despite all his
educating lectures and demonstrations about vampires, her only
experience with one–that she could remember–was himself. She'd be
supper, for sure.
Tara had decided to travel with him to Cleveland, to see the witch,
and to try and connect with her past. She was nervous about showing
up at a stranger's place, but Spike kept reassuring her of her
welcome. Christ, the Scoobies would lay out a white velvet carpet for
her.
The witch, Mrs. Letting, thought she could help both of them, but the
energy she would have to expend on the spells would have to rebuild
between each of their rituals. Spike had decided to let Tara go
first, tomorrow night on the full moon. That way he could deposit her
with Faith and have no responsibilities while he underwent his own
ritual. Plus he suspected that In-her-right-mind-Tara might be very
big on him contacting Buffy, instead of doing the memory loss spell.
She had a thing about memory loss, as he recalled. She was likely to
be pretty pissed off at the Powers that Be. Or whoever was
responsible for bringing her back.
Pissing off a witch--even a lily white one–never good. Let the
Scoobies handle her.
In the mean time, he had installed her in a motel room next door to
his, courtesy of Angel's Wolfram and Hart expense account. He'd
bought her a boxful of Wicca books, and she was happily reading and
sipping herbal tea, while he felt the need to let off a little steam.
He could feel he was nearing the heart of the Hellmouth. He was in an
older neighborhood now, old part of town.
Yeah, there was a demon bar. The Rialto. Probably opened in the
forties, by the look of the neighborhood.
A little whiskey, a little blood, maybe some Hellmouth gossip–
Spike wandered in.
It was larger than Willy's, and a little nicer. Had a small shiny
dance floor and a demon three piece combo trying to play. Vamp hos in
abundance, a few humans–hopefully they knew what they were doing in a
place like this, and wouldn't require him to rescue them.
He ordered some o-neg and a pint and found a small table on the edge
of the dance floor, where he could watch the show.
The combo started a Rolling Stone cover, "Under my Thumb", kind of at
a slow tempo, Spike thought. As the dance floor filled up, he figured
it was on purpose. He watched the mostly female dancers in
appreciation and shot down a tumbler of whiskey, followed by the
blood chaser.
If he used his imagination, he could almost think that the brunette
and the tiny blonde dancing right up near the band were Buffy and
Faith. They were dressed perfectly. The brunette was in tight black
leather pants and a red silky tank top that looked like lingerie–
probably was, over a black lace push-em-up bra, which mostly showed..
Very Faith.
The blonde was in brown leather pants, and high Buffy type boots. Her
shirt was cream colored, with lace and embroidery, saved from being
demure by the fact it was completely see through. Spike could make
out the lace pattern of her of her camisole top, which also had that
delicious push-em -up effect.
Spike noticed other things. Both were sweating, just enough to leave
a tasty sheen. Humans. Or, at least, not vamps.
He wondered if they were ho s. The blonde looked a little more
sophisticated than the poor little girl, barely older than Dawn, who
worked the corner near his favorite bar.
Maybe, if she was a little older, a little less pitiful, he could
make it with her. She was the right height, right build–very nice
little ass– Spike got to his feet, slugged down a few swallows of
liquor, and made his way to the dance floor.
A few women gave him the eye, one tried to latch on to him, but he
made his way toward the lookalikes.
Man, she even smelled like vanilla shampoo, Spike thought, as he
neared the girls.
"Hi, ladies," he said.
The two women whirled around toward him, so fast it made him dizzy.
"What the fuck?" said Faith.
"Son of a bitch!" Buffy hollered, and then they were on him.
He'd forgotten how hard slayers could punch. "Bloody Hell," he
muttered, as all went black.
Chapter Six
Los Angeles, Wolfram and Hart
Angel had Harmony clear his calendar for the afternoon. The sorcery
department had finally called with good news. With any luck, and bond
Buffy and Spike might have forged would be dissolved by nightfall.
"Oh, and Harm?"
"Yeah boss."
"I may need you to work late tonight. I'll make sure you get a bonus."
"Okay, Boss. But instead of a bonus, could I have the next three
Fridays off? I'd like to go to Vegas with my boyfriend. He works
there on the weekends, you know."
"Right. No problem."
Harmony squealed in delight and hung up the phone. Angel rubbed his
ear.
The Sorcery department arrived in full force, with the head of the
department, Dr. Finnais, a Mage, and a dozen assistants and flunkies,
who got busy preparing the room for the ritual.
"You have a female, of course? To stand proxy for Buffy Summers? If
not we can order one up from the typing pool." Dr Finnais said.
"Uh, my secretary, Harmony, can fill in."
"Great."
Harmony was called in and the Mage gave them directions.
"After you bite you only take one mouth full of blood, but instead
of swallowing, like in a claiming, you spit it into this cauldron,
which will contain certain magickal elements. The blood will
evaporate, and the bond between Buffy and Spike will evaporate with
it."
"Okay, I understand that. But what if they didn't do a claim? What if
it's something else? Like a crazy love spell, or something?"
"Or, true love?" Harmony asked her nose wrinkling in disgust.
"Not a vampire claim? That's highly unlikely, isn't it? But, of
course we've planned for those contingencies. The spell will work."
The Mage swept away and began to yammer at his crew.
The ritual was long, and very boring, in Harmony's opinion. And that
demon language 'song'! Ugh. Sounded like gargling mixed with horny
tomcat yowls. She smirked. She knew a little about horny tomcats.
Her yummy kittybaby, waiting for her in her apartment! Thank goodness
this would be over by sunset.
Harmony discreetly peeked at her manicure, to see how the new
perfect plum polish was holding up, and then it was time to bite and
spit.
She should have asked for four Fridays off. Yuck, what was that
cologne he was wearing? It was so–
Harmony bit and spat, and then realized–one taste of Angel was not
enough! She grabbed at him, he grabbed her first, and sank his fangs
back into her neck.
"Oh, Angelbaby!" she howled. "I'm yours! Only yours!"
Angel growled in agreement, "Mine," and then began to rip off her box
pleated pink linen skirt and matching suit jacket, while she kicked
her pink leather stilettos across the room, totally not noticing that
the shoe struck the fleeing Mage in the back of the head.
"What just happened?" whispered the Mage's chief assistant as they
made their way directly to the parking lot.
"It wasn't a vampire claim bonding them. It was something else.
Something strong. Had some type of mystical repelling quality. You
saw what happened with the proxies."
"We are in such deep shit."
The Mage reached his car and leaped in. "Don't try to find me," he
warned.
"Ditto." said his assistant, melting into the dark garage.
********
Cleveland
"What the fuck, Buffy?"
The goon bouncers–probably real goons– had deposited Faith, Buffy and
a barely conscious Spike into the street.
Buffy was running her hands over Spike and plastering kisses on his
face. "Sorry, sorry Spike. I just reacted. After the First and
all... Can't believe you're alive."
" 's okay. M' fault. Shoulda called." Spike mumbled around her
kisses. "Thought you were in Rome."
"I'm on vacation. Oh, Spike!"
"Didn't hear one word I said, did ya?" Faith grabbed Spike under one
arm. "Come on! Let's get to the slayer mobile before we have to slay
something."
The slayer mobile was a staid grey minivan, provided by the New
Council. Faith despised it, but it was handy for hauling slayerettes
to school and slay time. She helped shove Spike into the middle seat.
Buffy crawled in after him.
Faith drove, studiously keeping her eyes off the rear view mirror.
She heard a couple "Oh, Spike!" whispers and a few moany, "Buffy"s,
plus the slurpy sounds of a major makeout session.
"Jeez, you guys, get a room!"she said.
"I've got a room." Spike suddenly piped up. "At the Cleveland Motel
by the highway. Wanna go to my room, luv?"
"Oh, yeah," Buffy moaned. "I'm sharing Faith's room. A motel, much
better."
Faith tried to keep her eyes on the road as she back tracked to
Spike's motel, but she kept seeing a light in the rear view mirror.
Finally she glanced back.
"Holy shit!" She yelped, and pounded on the brake. "Fire!"
The van screeched to a halt. Buffy and Spike were thrown to the
floor. Faith leaped out and yanked the entwined couple to the street.
Buffy clambered up and then reached a hand down to Spike, who still
looked a little dazed. "What are you doing, Faith? Are you trying to
get us killed? For--"
Spike had grabbed her hand to hoist himself up. Their joined hands
flickered with fire.
They gazed at their hands in awe. "Doesn't burn this time," Spike
said softly.
"No. It's lovely, isn't it?" Buffy said, turning soft eyes to his.
"What. The. Fuck." Faith said.
"It happened, when Spike closed the Hell Mouth. We held hands, and
their was this fire. Just like this." Buffy didn't continue the
narrative, remembering how it ended. She didn't take her eyes off
Spike.
"I love you," he mouthed softly, just for her ears. She smiled.
"Come on, let's get going." Buffy and Spike dropped hands, and the
flames ceased.
"You might want to get that checked out," Faith said. "Kinda freaky,
you know?"
"I think it's beautiful," Buffy said. She and Spike held hands all
the way to his motel, enjoying the flame the didn't burn.
"Oh, new information." Spike said, as they pulled into the parking
lot. "You know that blonde haired Wicca that used to be Willow's girl?
The one that got shot? She came back. Something to do with the amulet
and Hell mouth, I think. I found her while I was driving here."
Buffy stared at him. "Tara?"
"Yeah. But she has amnesia. There's a witch here that is going to try
and restore her memory. So you might want to give Red a call. Might
advise her to lose the dead president and get over here."
Buffy insisted they go see Tara right away, so they were soon crowded
into Tara's motel room, where a sleepy and confused Tara awkwardly
patted a wildly weeping Buffy on the back.
Spike gently pulled Buffy off Tara, "That's enough, now, luv. She's
not going anywhere, you can see her tomorrow. And her Tigger jammies
need time to dry. So no more tears."
Faith jingled her car keys and said, "I'll call Willow, catch her up
on... stuff. Kay? Call me when you get up tomorrow." She left for
the Slayer home.
Spike and Buffy stayed in Tara's room until Buffy–and Tara– had
settled down a little, and then made plans to get together the next
day.
Buffy walked to Spike's room in a daze."I can't believe it. You and
Tara both came back? Good things are happening to us? To me?
Something's wrong here, Spike--"
Spike shut her up with a kiss.
Buffy felt those cool, firm lips... she felt them all the way down
her spine. "Ohmygod," she moaned.
How could she ever have thought those blond boys could replace him?
A/N Next chapter is hot Spuffy.
Chapter Seven
"Fast or slow," Spike growled into Buffy's ear as they made their way
to his motel room.
"Huh?" She couldn't follow, her mind was blank. His hands under her
shirt were driving her crazy, and they way he was nudging her with
his hips as they walked had her practically hyperventilating.
"First time, " Spike said between licks on her neck. "Fast or slow."
She was trying to get her hands into his tight jeans without
unbuttoning him in public, and continue walking at the same
time. "Oh, um, fast?"
"Yeah," Spike moaned pinning her against a door for a long
kiss. "Right after the fast we'll do slow."
"Kay," she whispered, then cried softly when he pushed her away. He
was just unlocking the door, so she busied herself with an
exploration of his fine ass.
Then the door was open.
"Naked," Buffy gasped as he grabbed her none to gently and dragged
her in.
Buffy started skinning off her top and kicking her shoes off, Spike
did the same, and the moment they were naked they were on the floor
by the luggage rack.
He pushed into her.
Buffy cried,"Yes!" nearly sobbing, a whole body shiver running
through her. This was what she had been searching for–rock covered in
silk, thick, long, pushing into depths others couldn't reach. This
would finally satisfy her.
"Oh, Spike. Baby. You're the only one. . . "
Spike reacted to her endearment with a powerful thrust, as though he
understood her almost confession and was erasing any other man from
her mind. "You're mine, " he growled. "Only mine."
"Yours," she whimpered, wrapping her arms and legs tighter and
clutching at him with her inner muscles as he hit that sweet spot
one. . . more. . . time. She came in a convulsive burst .
Spike latched his lips to hers, kissing her wildly as he plunged in
and out a few more times. Buffy curled her hands into his hair and
kissed him back, sucking on his tongue, urging him with her body to
lose control and come.
He did, pulsing into her as he groaned in release.
"We missed the bed again," Buffy whispered while she nipped and
licked at his ear.
Spike raised his head from the crook of her shoulder, and grinned at
her. "We'll use it the next time." He stood and pulled her up,
cradling her in his arms, and carried her to the bed. "We're not done
yet."
Buffy moaned a wordless approval at his words and pressed an open
mouthed kiss to his lips.
He placed her gently on the bed and stretched out next to her,
looking at her intensely. Buffy returned his gaze and slowly entwined
her hand with his. Their hands burst into flames, but there was no
burning, no damage.
Spike slowly moved there hands to her breast, brushing her pink
nipples with their flaming fingers, and then dragged their hands down
her body, over her damp curls, to her wet slit.
"Whatever it is, it's ours alone," Buffy whispered.
"Ours," Spike breathed.
With hands still joined, Spike began to rub small circles on Buffy's
swollen, sensitive nub, sliding sensuously in the copious liquid that
coated her. His lips found a nipple and he licked for a moment. "You
have the prettiest nipples, Buffy, so pink, and the way they tilt up
just a little. Drive me crazy, they do."
His words were driving her crazy, along with the gliding of their
fingers.
"Love it when you touch me there," Buffy whispered almost shyly. "I
love everything you do." Then her face crumpled, and she began to
cry. "I missed you so much when you were gone."
"Ahh, sweetheart, those times are gone. I'm here now, I'm real, "
Spike held her face in his hands. "I'm not going anywhere, not
without you." He rained kisses over her face, .
"Make love with me, Spike," Buffy's tear filled eyes met his
and
held.
"Forever, love," he said, and began kissing her tears away.
Once again they joined hands, and the flames lit the room.
****
London, Andrew's apartment.
It was early in the morning but Andrew had already seized the day.
He had woken up at dawn, and spent the first fifteen minutes of his
day meditating, followed by his Daily Affirmations.
"I am strong," he intoned. "I am smart. I am good and kind. The
universe does not seek to harm me, for I am on the side of Good and
Light. I am One with the Forces of Good. I will live this day worthy
of my fallen friends." His eyes got a little teary on the last
affirmation but he gamely put his sadness aside and snuffed out the
vanilla inscense.
He donned his running gear and ran for precisely 2.4 miles, and then
returned to his apartment carrying a double mocha latte with
cinnamon and shaved chocolate. While he drank it, contemplating his
wardrobe, someone knocked on his door.
It was Willow, he saw through the crack allowed by his
chains. "Willow!"
Willow still made him a little nervous, with all her huge powers and
lesbian Wicca coolness...
"Andrew, I need your help with the Spikebot. I have to fly yo
Cleveland immediately, so I brought it with me. It's configured a
little different than the Buffy bot was–"
Andrew shut the door to remove the chains and reopened ti.
The Spikebot stood next to Willow in all its Spikey glory. Andrew
felt a thrill run through his body. The last time he'd seen it , it
was still draped in bubble wrap. Now it was there, in a black leather
duster, its face in a scowl. Just like Spike.
"S-sure Willow. Come in."
Willow and the Spikebot entered his efficiency apartment.
"Bloody 'ell, " the Spikebot growled. "Where's the whiskey?"
"Wow, it sounds just like Spike," Andrew said, awed.
"Yeah, it's stuck in some type of surly mode. I was trying to figure
out how to get him in a different mode when I got the call to go to
Cleveland."
"Trouble on the Hell mouth?"
Willow shook her head. "The Buffster."
"Say no more," Andrew said, magnanimously, for a Hero does not
gossip. "Just get her here, soon. I'll take care of the Spikebot."
Willow handed over a file, and then spoke to the bot.
"This is Andrew. I am giving you a direct order, key code Alpha," She
cleared her throat. " Obey Andrew as your master."
Andrew felt a thrill run through his whole body.
"There, "she said to Andrew. "You shouldn't have any trouble with
it."
"Bloody 'ell," the Spikebot said, as Andrew relocked the door after
her.
CHapter 8
Wolfram and Hart, the morning after the Ritual
Fred walked in to Angel's office with the news, "Hey Angel, Buffy's
in Cleveland!".
Angel was completely nude, a blond wrapped around his waist, on the
couch in his reception area.
"Angel?" Fred could not believe her eyes! Angel was with a very nude
Harmony. And the room looked odd–candles and herbs strewn about
everywhere.
"Darling, look!" Angel said. He reached out and grabbed Fred, who
was to startled by all the naked flesh to protest. "Let's drink a
toast! To our new life together."
Harmony giggled. "She was my only friend here, but, sure!" She
wiggled enthusiastically, like a puppy, and went into game face.
Fred turned to Angel. He was in game face, also. "A–Angelus?" she
faltered.
"The one and only." He turned his face to Harmony. "Let's do it
together, hmmm? On the count of three." Harmony crowded close and
giggled.
"One."
"Two."
"Three!" Harmony squealed.
The door to Angel's office burst open and Gunn and a tall handsome
man with long, butter blond hair entered, Gunn talking.
"Hey, have you seen Harmony? Her boyfriend here says she never came
home...last...night." His words trailed away as he looked upon the
scene.
There was a feral roar behind him and suddenly a huge white tiger
leaped across the room to Angelus. It landed on him and Fred broke
away with a scream.
"It's Angelus! Quick, get outside!" Gunn and Fred tore off through
the lobby to daylight and safety.
Back in the office, Harmony squealed at the tiger."Axel! Get over
it! I chose someone else." She grabbed Angelus' arm. "The vampire of
my dreams. Now go! Before I hurt you!"
She put on her game face.
The tiger transformed back into a man. "You–you lied to me! You said
you were a wood sprite!"
Harmony shrugged. "You big dummy. Didn't you notice my heart didn't
beat?"
"I...I thought it was sap–in your veins."
"Oh, I should just Eat you!" she screeched.
Axel transformed instantly into the tiger. With a roar he leaped out
of the room.
Angelus shrugged. "Get dressed, Harm. I think we should take the
jet. How about starting our new life together with some slayer
blood?"
"Oh, but Angelus, can't we fly to New York first?," Harmony
pouted. " I need some clothes. It would be like a honeymoon."
Angelus considered it. "Yes," said he decided. "Let's go there
first. It's been so long since I partook of the opera singers."
Harmony giggled, and stuffed her stockings in her coat pocket.
Out in the street, Gunn and Fred tried to get the security team to
stop Angelus, but they were informed it was too late. The helicopter
had taken off for the Wolfram and Hart's private airport, and the
airport was not communicating with anyone except Angel.
"We lost him," Gunn said. "Great. Angelus is on the loose with all
of Wolfram and Hart's resources. That is not good. I'll go see what
I can get done. Maybe Eve will be of help."
"I'm going to try and find out what happened here. Look at this
room. Some type of ritual was preformed here. That must be what
brought Angelus back." Wes was walking around the room, taking notes.
"Call me as soon as you know anything.," Wes said.
" I just got news– the jet is flying to New York." Fred put down the
phone.
"Weird," said Gunn, shaking his head. He flopped down onto Angel's
chair at the desk
"But not so far from Cleveland." said Fred. "And they can get lost
in New York."
There was a knock at the door. "Sir," said a young lawyer to
Gunn. "I was told to deliver this from legal." He handed Gunn a
thick file.
Gunn looked at it for a few moments, then said, "It's from Angel.
Written in case he turns into Angelus. Apparently there is a college
boy, a daywalker... Angel thinks Angelus will go for him."
"To kill him?" Fred asked.
Gunn shrugged. "Doesn't say. But if he were to turn a daywalker–
wouldn't that make a really strong vampire, or something?"
"I'll get to studying that, too." Wes said.
"Hey, has anyone seen Spike? Gunn asked. "We could get him going
on the college kid."
"Spike!" Fred grabbed a sheet of paper off the desk. "Here's a note.
He's on a road trip with the Viper." She looked at the paper. "Wow,
Spike has really nice handwriting. Doesn't say where he's going or
when he'll be back."
"Of course not," said Wes.
"Probably turned his cell phone off, too. But I'll keep trying,"
Fred said. She started dialing.
"Great. Get a hold of Willow, Giles, Buffy, Faith. Get the word
out." Wes said.
"Will do."
Chapter 9
Life was very, very good, Andrew thought. The Universe rewards those
that stand for Good.
He sighed happily as strong hands glided massage oil over his back.
He'd spent half the day at the computer, reconfiguring the Spikebot.
Willow would be gone for days, and a Spikebot was made to serve.
Since there was no Buffy around, Andrew had changed all the
settings, so the Spikebot was now totally focused on him. He
snickered. He was so naughty. But really, what was the harm? He
could change the settings back to Buffy when she got back from
Cleveland.
"Spike, would you hand me my iced cappuccino?"
"Yes, but I must wash my hands first, or the glass will be slippery."
"Good thinking, Spike. That's the kind of stuff that will make Buffy
happy."
The Spikebot got a worried expression on his face. "But I live to
serve you, Master Andrew."
"Of course you do, Spike, of course you do. But instead of washing
your hands, why don't you help me to the shower, and help me wash
off this oil."
"Great idea. Then we could watch a DVD together."
"Exactly!"
Andrew felt wicked. He almost sent the Universe an apology. But he
stopped himself. This wasn't really Spike, under a thrall or
something. This was a robot. His robot , for the next few days. And
he was training it for Buffy, right? Buffy would want to take
showers with it. He, Andrew, would train this Spikebot right!
"Why don't you take off your clothes, Spike?" He said to the bot,
who was washing his hands in the sink. "That way you can help me get
the oil off my back."
"Okay," the Spikebot said. "Afterwards we can watch the telly."
He smiled very nicely at Andrew, so nicely a little thrill ran
through Andrew's whole body.
Well, the real Spike would never look at me that way, he
acknowledged. Wouldn't look at anyone except Buffy like that. Well,
maybe at Dawn, if she wasn't being whiney. None of this is real, it
is just entertainment.
Spikebot dropped his black jeans, and Andrew's eyes got big.
Really, really entertaining.
"Y-You are really really well hung, Spike," he gasped
"Thank you. I am an anatomically correct copy of Real Spike."
Spikebot took the compliment seriously. His crystal blue eyes roved
over Andrew. "You are well hung, too, Master Andrew. So...delicate,
and cute."
Andrew gulped and stumbled into the shower. The Spikebot stepped in
gracefully.
*****
Tara rested her aching head on the motel pillow and waited for the
Advil to work. She didn't like to take chemicals, but she'd had this
headache since the memory ritual last night, and finally broke down
and went to vending machine that had pain relievers, down by the
soda machine.
The memory retrieval spell had worked, sort of. She did remember her
name, Tara McClay. She remembered her family, her mom. In fact she
remembered a lot of things about her childhood. Not too much about
her last few years of life,though, and that included Buffy and
Spike...and Willow.
Buffy had given her a picture of Willow, a cute red head. She did
seem vaguely familiar. Kind of the feeling you got when a name was
on the tip of your tongue, but Not. Quite. There.
Something was going on here in Cleveland. Something bad. Buffy and
Spike had been all cooing and almost disgusting, while they had all
watched a movie together in their room. Then there was the freaky
fire hand thing. That took some getting used to.
But then a gorgeous but scary girl named Faith had a shown up.
"Heads up, gang. I heard from Wes in LA. Seems they've had an
outbreak of Angelus."
Buffy went a little white. Spike asked, "Who gave him the happy this
time? Wolf girl."
"Harmony."
Buffy and Spike looked at each other and broke out into gales of
laughter. Tara blinked in confusion.
"Sad thing is," Spike said, wiping tears of laughter from the
corners of his eyes. "We probably won't get to deal with Harmony.
Dru's little birds" –he used his fingers for quotation marks–"will
tell her that Daddy's back."
"Well, it seems Angelus and Harmony have some type of bond," Faith
said.
Spike snorted. "Can't have a bond with a big pile of dust, now can
you? Harmony is no match for Dru."
"But how would Dru even find them? They flew the Wolfram and Hart
jet to New York City," Faith said
"Dru's insane, not stupid." Spike seemed certain. Faith did not look
convinced.
Faith's cell phone rang. "Yeah...okay...will do."
"Some vampire just tortured and ate the jet maintenance crew at
Wolfram and Hart." She told them, sliding her phone back into her
pocket.
Spike pursed his lips and raised his eyebrow in an 'I told you so'
gesture.
"Okay, then," said Buffy in a false bright tone. "We have Angelus
and soon we'll have Drusilla, all headed to Cleveland."
After that there had been a flurry of activity. But not for Tara.
She'd been sent to her motel room with a bag of snacks and a sack
from McDonald's for dinner.
Somehow, the snacks and burger seemed all wrong. Like not at all
something she, Tara, would eat.
"Stay in your room. And don't let anyone in, for any reason." Spike
said. "Not even motel staff."
"I wish we had time to get you into an apartment, or a private home.
Motels just aren't as safe as private dwellings." Buffy had looked
quite worried.
"Yeah, and the Slayer house is going to be a major target, so that's
no use, "Spike said.
Tara was pretty sure she didn't want to live in something called a
slayer house, anyway.
"If I got you a newspaper, do you think you could call some places,
apartments? Don't worry about the money. If we could get you into
one tomorrow, far away from me and Buffy...it would be a good thing."
Tara agreed to do that, though the idea of moving here permanently
was a little daunting. It made her feel tired. She closed her eyes
and tried to sleep. Maybe things would look better in the morning.
Chapter 10:
Taracentric
The apartment was tiny, the attic above a garage, in a neighborhood
of older homes. It was completely furnished, one large room with a
bathroom. The furniture was old and a little shabby, but the
bathroom had one of those deep claw footed tubs, plus a flexible
shower head.. Very nice.
"Spike's really good at decorating, and we have the muscle to get
things up those steps. We'll get it fixed up when the situation is
over," Buffy said in a perky voice.
"I ate a decorator once," Spike said, with a sidelong glance at
Buffy. Then they both giggled and did some cutesy PDA stuff..
Tara wasn't sure what the 'situation' involved, other than a
terrifying being named Angelus. She had been warned over and over
not to leave her apartment after dark, and not to invite anyone into
her apartment.
It was all very strange and unsettling.
Not that there had been much peace in her life since she had woken
up, naked, in an alley in LA. A homeless lady, talking all kinds of
crazy nonsense, had dressed her in ragged clothes from her cache of
trash bags, and walked her to a soup kitchen. There Tara told a
volunteer she couldn't remember her name or her life, that she had
woken up in an alley. She hadn't mentioned she had woken naked, that
was just too embarrassing.
She had ended up in the hospital, but she seemed perfectly healthy
after a check up. A bed had been found for her in a crowded women's
shelter. After a few weeks there, where she had proved herself as
helpful, moral and not addicted to any substance, someone had done
the paperwork to get her a new identity and social security card, so
she could get a job.
A job faire had come to town, with employers from out of state. She
jumped at the chance to leave the city, with the crime and
hopelessness she saw all around. She had ended up in the midwest,
with a decent job, and plans to go to college.
Then Spike had arrived, and her life was once again in upheaval.
Well, she could still go to college. Really, meeting Spike and Buffy
hadn't caused that much disruption. Not at all.
Though she now knew magic was real. Just watching Buffy and Spike
hold hands, with that freaky fire that didn't burn–that was magic.
Seeing their joy, their love, that they were unable to hide in their
faces, that was a type of magic, too.
I had that type of love, once. I know I did, or how else would I
recognize it? I was once full of joy, once with the One.
But she couldn't remember that love. Even after the memory
restoration spell, she didn't remember a love. She remembered her
mother a little–there was love there. Buffy said her mother had
died.
She had restless, uncomfortable memories about her father and
brother. There were dark feelings there, feelings that made her
whole body shiver, and Buffy had told her she was estranged from her
father, and for good reason. Spike had snorted at the mention of
her father, and would have said something rude but Buffy stopped him
with an elbow to the gut. Then they had to kiss and make up and
stuff.
I'll have to ask Spike how he knows my father sometime. Maybe the
next time we go out with Faith and the slayers. Then Buffy's busy.
Faith and the slayers lived right down the street. Faith was just
purely scary, Tara couldn't think of a word to say in her presence.
Some of the other slayers weren't too scary, though, if you avoided
the whole slaying topic. They had been really nice to her, giving
her posters and candles and other knickknacks to make the apartment
look more homey.
But it would be awhile before she could talk to Spike. Buffy and
Spike had left town. Apparently Angelus had a son, and now that he
was evil, he would go kill the boy, who was in college. And
Apparently, Spike and Angelus were related somehow. It was all very
confusing. When Angelus was good they called him Angel, and Buffy
had once dated him, which still seemed to make Spike angry. But
then, Spike had dated that vampire named Druscila, who Buffy said
was an insane ho.
Tomorrow she would start looking for a job. One of the Slayer's,
Mindy, thought she could get a job at the coffee shop she worked in,
where the tips were pretty good.
Tara had done some reading, and she was bored. She was used to
working until eleven at night, and now she was stuck in this tiny
apartment with nothing top do.
I'll take a bubble bath. She ran the water and threw in some bath
salts one of the slayers had given her, and then found one of the
candles another had given her, along with a gas candle lighter. She
lit it, and set it on the counter and slipped into the water.
The candle was pretty, ajar painted with flowers. It reminded her of
something...she tried to relax, let the memory come, but it didn't.
Why was it Spike got to return with all his memories, but she had
not? True, she had been dead for a lot longer.
Tara made herself calm down. She stared at the candle and took in
long, deep breaths. After awhile her eyelids began to droop, but not
all the way, so she could see the flicker through her eyelashes.
"It's extra flamey," a girl's voice chirped.
Tara's felt such a mix of emotion–pain and joy at seeing her, deep
sadness, resolve...
Heartbreak.
The candle was held in two slender hands. Pretty hands. Powerful
hands. Hands Tara loved.
She looked up from the hands and saw a piquant face, a girl with
huge eyes and cute, short red hair. The face of her love.
"Willow," she whispered.
Chapter 11
Connorcentric
"Arrr!" Buffy uttered in frustration at the boy. "You're just like
Dawn!"
The boy gave her a 'you're nuts, lady' look from under his shaggy
hair.
"Now, be honest, luv. He doesn't reach the pitches Dawnie can reach.
My ears aren't even ringing yet," Spike protested.
"I'm not going with you," The boy said, calm and confident. "I can
take care of myself."
"Well, he's got something there, Buffy. He is a daywalker, as
strong as I am."
Buffy narrowed her eyes. "I can take him."
Spike rolled his eyes, "Uh, Slayer, you fight demons and whatnot.
Not teenagers. If he wants to fight off Angelus and Druscilla on his
own, he does have free will an' all."
He grabbed Buffy by the arm, "Sorry to have bothered you, lad. We'll
just head off to our posh hotel room." Buffy started to sputter
something, but Spike just shook his head. They headed down the
sidewalk toward the parking lot.
Spike paused and turned back toward the boy. "Oh, just one tip. If
Drusilla is with Angelus–she's a really hot, dark haired chick–OW–"
Buffy elbowed him in the gut.
"Sorry, luv, but to a sex starved college boy, she'll look hot. And
you know she'll try that 'Look on me' thrall crap. I just thought
I'd warn him," Spike spoke in a placating tone to her. "After all he
is like a nephew or something to me."
"Spike," Buffy said in her whiney voice. "If they turn him, then
I'll have to stake him. And I don't wanna. He has those big puppy
dog eyes..." She pouted and ran a hand up under his shirt.
Spike tipped his head back, squeezed his eyes shut. "Bloody hell."
He turned to the boy, "So, boy, just don't look into her eyes, she
can hypnotize you in a flash." He vamped. "Then you'll look like
this, and Buffy will have to slay you. It's what she does. And she's
supposed to be retired, aren't you, baby," he crooned to her.
Connor dropped his latte. "Wait, you're a vampire? Why isn't she
slaying you?"
"Well, that's a long story. I'm one of the good guys. All soulful
and everything. Why don't you join us for coffee, seeing how you
dropped yours, and I'll tell you all about it." Spike returned to
his human face. "How do you know about vampires, anyway? Most humans
are clueless."
The boy hesitated and then spoke. "The coffee shop is this way," he
said.
"So, tell us how you know about vampires," Buffy said as they all
sat down with gourmet coffee drinks.
"Well, I keep running into them. I almost got bit by the first one,
but I managed to run away. I figured he was a vampire because of the
teeth going for my neck, you know? So I went down town to this
little magic bookstore and asked for books about real vampires. The
clerk gave me a funny look but brought me some books from his back
room. They were really helpful. I went to Home Depot, got some thick
dowels and carved the ends into points. The next time I walked
across campus at night and got jumped, I dusted him."
"Angelus won't be so easy to dust," Buffy said. "Vampires get
stronger the longer they live. Angelus and Drusilla are both very
old and very strong."
"Why does this dude want me, anyway? And what's with this daywalker
stuff?"
Buffy sighed. "There is no easy way to tell you this. Did you know
you're adopted?"
"Well, yeah. I've always known that."
"Have you noticed how much stronger you are than everyone else?"
"Yeah. I thought maybe my real family were circus people or
something. Freaks."
"No," Spike spoke up. "Your parents were my great grand sire Angel,
vampire, and his sire, my great granny, Darla.. Also vampire. So
that makes you something very rare, a being with the strengths of
both vampires and humans. That's why you are so strong and fast, why
you can hear whispers through closed doors, why you can hear
heartbeats."
"Okay, so you're right, I am all these things. So why does this
Angel dude want me?"
"Angel doesn't want you." Buffy said. "Angel is one of the good
guys. He's a vampire with a soul. But when he loses his soul he
turns back into Angelus, the vampire."
" Right bastard, he is." Spike said.
"Angel knew all about you, so Angelus does, too. He probably wants
to turn you because you'll be a really strong minion. Plus, whatever
plan the Powers that Be have for you might be screwed up, which he
would find amusing." Buffy explained.
Spike sat back and pursed his lips thinking. "Actually, I find the
idea of screwing with the POB quite amusing, myself."
"Spike!" Buffy elbowed him again.
Spike rolled his eyes at Buffy. "All right, I know. I'm one of the
soddin' good guys."
"So you want me to come with you to protect me from Angelus."
"Yup. We hope to capture him and resoul him." Buffy scooped the whip
cream off her drink and glanced sideways at Spike. Spike watched
with an intense stare while she licked it off her spoon.
Connor shifted a little on his chair and thought about telling them
to get a room "How do you resoul a vampire?" Connor asked.
"Well, not meaning to brag, but I fought an ancient god and won
mine. But in Angel's case, Buffy's friend the witch will curse him
with a soul." Spike said.
"A soul is a curse?" Connor's eyes got wide.
Spike gave a snort. "For Angel it is."
"Say," Spike said a moment later. "You know that problem you have
with women, how it is so easy to hurt them?"
The boy stopped drinking and just stared at him.
Spike smirked. "I know all about it. Vampires always have that
problem with human women, they're so breakable. Daywalkers, same
thing. What if I told you we wanted to take you to place that's just
full of indestructible teen age girl slayers. Some real cuties, too.
And they are all looking for a guy like you. One that doesn't break
easy."
"I have mid terms," Connor muttered.
"Hey, no problem. We know a law firm that can fax some kind of
excuse." He slid Buffy a glance and she grinned, broadly.
"So where is this safe house full of girls?" Connor asked
"Cleveland," Buffy and Spike spoke in unison.
"And we should get there as soon as possible. We don't want Angelus
to know Spike and I are involved with you. We want to catch him by
surprise," Buffy said.
It took them longer than they'd hoped to get out of town, because
Conner insisted on taking all his books, notebooks, lap top,
printer and scanner, plus he had to call a bunch of people to let
them know he had a family emergency. Then they had to drive to
Buffy's and Spike's hotel, for their things. They urged him to wait
for them in the car, they wouldn't be a minute.
They returned thirty minutes later with two small bags and messy
hair.
"You know," he said after they got on the road, "I think I have a
vampire sense of smell, too."
"Oh that is sooo gross!" Buffy squealed as Spike roared out a laugh.
"This is going to be quite an experience, I can tell already,"
Connor muttered as Spike turned some moldy oldy cd. louder.