Crazy Eights – Chapter Nine – It’s Ten O’Clock, and All’s Not Well
Research time hadn’t provided any solid facts, due in part to the fact that the chip was a modern development and the texts were ancient. However, all the evidence pointed to a power broker; a mage with enough skill to harvest combinations of life force, soul energy, and auras. The power could be bartered and sold for any manner of nefarious schemes, none of which bode well for the denizens of Sunnydale or anywhere else.
Looking up from her umpteenth volume of undecipherable text, Buffy said, “I think my time as research-gal is over for today, guys. I’m gonna look awfully silly if I show up at Crazy Eights in my stunning strapless gown and stilettos with the worst case of crossed eyes you’ve ever seen.”
“S’alright, pet. We know something wicked this way comes… and it’s up to us to find it. Don’t like being it’s bitch,” he said, glaring at the back of his hand and scratching at it hard enough to draw blood.
“Oh god, Spike. Stop it!” squeaked Buffy, slapping his hand to prevent further damage. “I know it’s wigging you out, but we need it for just one more night. I promise we’ll remove it when we get home from the club.”
“I’d be most interested in studying this chip of yours, Spike. If you come by the shop after tonight’s escapade, I’ll remove it for you,” Giles offered, intrigued at the prospect of having it’s mysteries solved. “I’m sure Willow will be more than happy to help me sort it.”
“Rupes, if we make it out of there without m’hand exploding, it’s all yours. Nobody uses m’body again ‘cept the way nature intended.”
The smirk on Spike’s face went straight through Buffy like a warm shiver. She’d been having the strangest reactions to him lately, but there wasn’t time for self-analysis at the momement.,
“C’mon, Nature Boy,” she said, as she grabbed his arm. “We’ve got to get ready for tonight. I need to make myself all Consorty, you know.”
Secretly, the vampire thought she could roll around in a mud puddle and come up looking bloody gorgeous. However, he said, “Yeah, s’true. Wouldn’t want to embarrass myself, haulin’ a dishwater dull Slayer around all night.”
“Out, both of you,” said Giles, mildly annoyed at the outrageous flirting the two weren’t even aware of. “If there were any customers here, you would have chased them away with all your childish prattle.”
Shooing them out the door, he was confounded by the level of closeness that had developed between his Slayer and William the Bloody. It’s not as if he hadn’t seen Buffy up close and personal with a vampire before – her time with Angel had been well documented.
This was quite different, however. They played with each other. They taunted, dared, smiled and laughed – so different to the broody silences and wistful gazes of her other relationship. Good lord, if they kept going, they’d finish each other’s sentences before long. That would be disconcerting, to say the least.
~*~
While Buffy showered in her mother’s bathroom, Spike used the one in the hall.
Joyce laid out fresh towels for them both before going downstairs. Knowing her daughter’s propensity for taking long, hot showers and Spike’s newly acquired accessibility to hot running water, it was only a matter of time before…
The first yelp came from her bathroom – a definite “I’m freezing” squeak from Buffy, followed right on the heels by a “Bloody, buggering hell” from the spluttering vampire down the hall. ‘Ah, the joys of a timed water heater,’ she thought. ‘Wonder how long it’ll be before they decide to save water?’
Spike, of course, was ready first, elegant in a pair of black dress pants, topped by a black on black patterned silk shirt tucked in at the waist. The totally black ensemble was broken by a silver belt buckle and a gunmetal grey tie. His ever-present Doc’s and duster completed the outfit.
Joyce was impressed. The man certainly did clean up well. Less than a week from the time he came to stay with them, and he was a whole new vampire.
Both turned their heads when Buffy finally made her entrance at the top of the stairs. She had chosen a beautifully simple party dress of flocked rayon in a black and white print. The princess seams accentuated her lissome figure, molding to her breasts and exposing her delicate shoulders, while flaring at the hip, ready to flounce and twirl as she walked.
“Oh, Buffy – look at you! My beautiful daughter all dressed up.” Joyce sniffled. “I swear the two of you look like you’re ready to go to the Prom.”
Spike, for his part, stood at the base of the stairs and gaped like a schoolboy.
With a twinkle in her eye, Buffy walked up to the stunned vampire, sashaying her way around him, occasionally rubbing against his body as she completed her circuit.
“So, do I pass muster, Mister? No dishwater dull Slayer to embarrass you?”
Shaken more than he’d ever admit to her, he resorted to his usual snark, and said, “You’ll do in a pinch. Wouldn’t do for a bloke as handsome as m’self to show up unescorted on a Saturday night. ‘Course, I just might be lookin’ around for somethin’ later, after you go home.”
For a fleeting second, the smile on Buffy’s face faltered, and Spike wanted to kick himself for hurting her.
“M’sorry, pet. I…”
“No biggie, Spike. I’m sure a vamp like you has…needs,” she snapped. “So do I. Maybe, as your supposed Consort, I can find someone pissed off enough to challenge you for some time with me.” ‘Two can play at that game, Spikey,’ she thought gleefully, until she caught the look on his face out of the corner of her eye.
As the discomfited pair left the house, not another word having passed between them, Joyce shook her head with disappointment. “Guess Spike isn’t the only one who can’t keep his big mouth shut,” she sighed.
~*~
The walk to Crazy Eights was made in silence; vampire and Slayer each wrapped in their own thoughts. Buffy wasn’t quite sure why Spike’s offhand comment rattled her enough to strike back. They’d been trading barbs since they were mortal enemies and reveling in it. What could have changed so much that a few simple words said in jest were able to wound her so?
At her side, Spike was having similar thoughts. He hadn’t meant to hurt the girl. She’d come down the stairs and floored him. Absolutely beautiful, with a girlish quality he’d never attributed to her before. Well, that wasn’t exactly true – he’d always thought she was beautiful, but he’d never felt like acting on it before.
They’d been friends for years – were comfortable with each other, and trusted in each other during patrol and battle. And yet… he’d recently kissed her. And she’d kissed him back. But it was more comfort than passion after his ordeal – or was it? Had he been himself, that kiss outside his crypt definitely had staying power.
He was roused from his thoughts by a sharp poke to his arm.
“Are you even in there, Spike? I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes.”
“Sorry, luv – obviously not paying attention, which will stop, here and now.” He took a calming breath, knowing he had to try and clear the air between them. “Look, Buffy – I’m not sure what happened back at the house, but we’ve got to be together going into the club. You know it’s dangerous, and the distraction of being pissed off at each other won’t be to our advantage. What say we try and get it all sorted afterwards, when we get home?”
Recognizing the olive branch for what it was and resisting the ‘if you haven’t picked up a skank’ barb she had right on the tip of her tongue, she said, “I agree. Something went really wonky back there, and we do need to talk, but not now. Now we need to be all couply.
“Hey – we worked just fine together when we were trying to kill each other, so I’m thinking we can work through a bit of hurt feelings. You ready?” she asked, as they approached the entrance.
“As I’ll ever be. Let’s get in and get it done. This damned chip is killing me,” he said, scratching at the back of his hand.
~*~
Ailuros greeted the couple in the reception area. She was dressed in a deep violet silk gown that matched her eyes. Her hair was swept off her shoulders and clipped into a loose chignon, and she was definitely coming on to Spike, which set Buffy on edge from the moment she walked into the room.
“Welcome back, Ssspike. It’s a pleasure to see you looking so well. I guess your little Sssslayer takes good care of you.”
Spike prayed. It was something he hadn’t done in all the years since he’d been turned, but things were gonna go pear-shaped if Buffy reacted badly to this.
“It’s my goal in life, Ailuros – to make sure that Spike is well and happy. That’s what we Consorts do.”
Ailuros’ eyes flashed that ‘Consort my ass’ look before she said, “Then I guess our Ssspike is marking you somewhere other than the traditional spot. I see bite marks, honey – but they’re not his.” Her tail began to twitch back and forth, in a way you could tell she was not pleased.
Shit!
“Pet, whether or where I bite m’Consort is really none of your business. Our personal life isn’t in question here. You have a job to do and I suggest you stick with it.”
“Ssssorry, Sssspike. It was just a comment between us girlsss, wasn’t it, Slayer?”
“I’m not bothered by her, Spike. She can make all the catty remarks she likes – at least we know where we stand with each other, right?”
“Right as rain, luv. Now if you’ll just be a pet and hand over m’Consort’s circlet for the evening, we’ve got some dinner to be havin’ an’ we’d like to relax.”
“Fine, Sssspike. Anything for you.” Handing Buffy the circlet, she softly hissed, “Sssteer clear of the game room tonight. Big-wigs from out of town are having a private party and a Slayer on the premises might make them a bit… jumpy.”
~*~
They entered the dining area, and decided to skip the bar and dance floor. Right now, a meal and some private time was in order.
“Thanks, pet.”
“For what?”
“For keepin’ your cool when Ailuros decided to challenge your Consort status.”
“Ah, you mean when she decided to go all bitchy-kitty on me? I was sure she was going to raise her leg and pee all over you.”
“She was this side of pulling off your dress to look for claim marks. If vamps don’t use the neck, they tend to go for breasts or the join of thigh to groin. Femoral artery’s better for blood and accessibility to the playground, but breasts are always fun.”
“You’re a pig, Spike. Anyone ever tell you that?”
“You used to, on a daily basis.”
Their waiter appeared with the ubiquitous touch-pad, and asked if they wanted their “usual” order. Spike simply nodded, and Buffy – to be different – ordered a cheeseburger and fries, reasoning it hadn’t killed Xander so she was safe.
“Does she turn you on, Spike?” All innocence and hazel eyes turned to Spike with her question.
“Who, pet? Ailuros? Well, yeah. She’s gorgeous an’ I’m all male. What’s there not to like?”
No sooner were the words out of his mouth when he knew he’d been a right arse. Trying to avert another disastrous misunderstanding, he added hastily, “Just ‘cause I find the bint attractive doesn’t mean I’ll go haring off after ‘er.”
Slightly mollified, Buffy admitted, “She is a pretty woman, Spike. I’m not blind. I don’t know why I even asked you. Not like I’m really your girlfriend or real Consort, am I?”
“Does that bother you, pet? That I look at other women?”
“No! I mean, I don’t think so.” She frowned. “Maybe?”
Well that was certainly a new development. Question was, how did he feel about it?
“Things’ve been intense since you rescued me luv. P’raps you’re confusin’ kindness and carin’ with something more?”
“Spike, I’m caring with my Mom, and kind to my friends. I don’t get jealous when they look at someone else.” She tried to sift through her thoughts, choosing her words carefully as much for her as for him. “I like our friendship and don’t want to do anything that would ruin it, but…”
“You think you feel something more, yeah?”
“And what about you, huh?” she asked, deftly turning the tables. “Is there any attraction on your part at all?”
“I’ve always thought you were somethin’ special, Buffy. You know that. And yeah, was trying to kill you for a bit, but it was ‘cause you drew me in. Such a wonderfully vicious warrior for a little minx.”
Catching the look in her eyes, he could tell she was absolutely crestfallen.
“Oh, luv, you don’t really think that’s all I see in you? You walked down those stairs this evening, and I almost lost it right there. You remember, don’t you?”
Sniffling, she nodded.
“M’sorry if I hurt your feelings. S’all confusing…”
Spike was startled mid-sentence by a sharp jab from behind in his left shoulder.
“You Spike?”
The man with the question was tall, intimidating by most standards. He stood about 6 feet 4 inches tall, and was built like the proverbial brick shithouse.
“Yeah, who’s askin’?”
“The name’s Travis. It’s been brought to my attention that the little lady is unclaimed, and I was wonderin’ if she’d like to step out with a real man for the rest of the evenin’?” He extended his hand towards Buffy, who hadn’t made a sound since he’d shown up at their table.
She felt it, rather than heard it – the sub vocal growl issuing from Spike’s direction. When Travis reached in and yanked her from her seat, Spike sprung into action.
Gameface to the fore, he tackled the larger man, knocking him away from Buffy. When she made a move to join in, he warned her off with bared fangs and an outstretched arm.
Travis matched him fang for fang and growl for growl. They stood, circling each other like a pair of lions, challenging each other over territory.
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doin’ here, mate? M’out for a night with m’lady and you have the bollocks to grab at ‘er while she’s eatin’ a meal in a public place? Are you mad?”
“You come in here, paradin’ this little piece of fluff around, no new bite marks, no claim evident and think your rep is gonna keep her? She’s a pretty little thing, and I think she’ll look better with me. C’mon, darlin,’ what say we skip this pop stand and find something better to do. Like each other?”
A crowd began to form around the pair, always eager for a fight.
With preternatural speed, Spike turned, grabbed Buffy by the shoulders, and with a roar of “Mine!” sank his fangs deep into her neck.
Crazy Eights – Chapter 10 – Nine to Five
When last we left our intrepid duo all those months ago:
Travis matched him fang for fang and growl for growl. They
stood, circling each other like a pair of lions, challenging each other over
territory.
“What the bloody hell do you think you’re doin’ here, mate? M’out for a night
with m’lady and you have the bollocks to grab at ‘er while she’s eatin’ a meal
in a public place? Are you mad?”
“You come in here, paradin’ this little piece of fluff around, no new bite
marks, no claim evident and think your rep is gonna keep her? She’s a pretty
little thing, and I think she’ll look better with me. C’mon, darlin,’ what say
we skip this pop stand and find something better to do. Like each other?”
A crowd began to form around the pair, always eager for a fight.
With preternatural speed, Spike turned, grabbed Buffy by the shoulders, and
with a roar of “Mine!” sank his fangs deep into her neck.
Oh, fuck!
Two words that flashed through the minds of everyone in Crazy Eights watching the spectacle before them. Fights were not an uncommon occurrence in the establishment, and fangs in throats were de rigueur for a place that drew vampires… but a claim was usually a very private matter.
Buffy froze. She knew her life hung in the balance of the next few seconds. All her Slayer instincts were screaming to dust the vamp at her neck, and all those leering at her predicament.
Good thing she was more than instinct, alone. It was Spike, after all… and he’d promised not to hurt her.
Spike was even more aware of the scene he was making. He’d promised the girl no fangs unless her life was at stake, and now… with his fangs embedded deep in her jugular, his unlife was also at stake, literally if she reacted as her nature dictated.
He could see Travis and Ailuros standing to the left of the gathered crowd, watching their every movement.
And waiting.
The bite alone wasn’t going to be enough; he had to draw blood for all the sensitive noses around to be satisfied. He took several strong pulls, while gently kneading Buffy’s shoulders, trying to communicate his intentions silently.
Outwardly, Buffy was amazingly calm. She relaxed into his touch and closed her eyes, slightly baring more of her neck to give him easier access. It felt… good. Far too good for it to continue in public. And she did trust him not to drain her.
Spike took a final pull, gently sealing the wounds with his tongue. He pulled back and roared a challenge to any and all, a small amount of blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he turned to Travis.
“I told you she’s mine. My Consort.” Though he was staring at Travis, he was listening to Buffy; her heartbeat racing and her breathing shallow and ragged. He turned and scooped her into his arms. She nuzzled softly into the crook of his neck.
Ailuros was livid. Her plan to use Travis to separate Spike from that little fraud was a failure. Her tail twitched angrily back and forth when she had a moment of inspiration.
“Sssspike,” she hissed. “That’s no claim bite. All you’ve done is feed off of your cow.” Looking mightily pleased with herself, she began to sashay back to her reception desk, secure that she’d exposed the display for the sham it was.
What she hadn’t counted on was Buffy. She tensed in Spike’s arms, raising her head and looking around at the crowd that still lingered, some of them showing their outright disdain for the Slayer-as-bloodcow impression Ailuros left them with.
Buffy brought her hands up to cup Spike’s sharp cheekbones, looking deeply into his questioning gaze. He was deadly calm, just waiting for her next move. The petite blonde slid her hands down to Spike’s collar, and with a defiant yell of ‘Mine’, ripped the shirt away from his neck and bit sharply into the pale flesh where neck met shoulder.
He was stunned. Either her reaction to his claim was purely instinctual, or she had actually read some of Rupert’s hidden volumes of vampire lore. The problem was Spike was unsure as to whether she was aware of the significance of a mutual claim.
One way or another, they were in for a long talk… and as soon as possible.
After worrying at the ragged flesh for a moment, Buffy raised her head to look at the remaining crowd, baring her bloodied teeth between her stained lips with a kittenish snarl. “Any more questions about my Consort status can be emailed to us at ‘we don’t give a fuck dot com’.”
With a chuckle, Spike released the Slayer from his embrace, crooked his arm, which she readily accepted, and the two walked out of Crazy Eights – heads held high – to the rousing applause and cheers of the patrons.
Once outside the madness of the club, the tale changed considerably. Spike’s confidence waned with each step they took, slowly dropping his arm and allowing hers to slip away. The vampire swiped his thumb across his lips; removing the dribble of blood from the corner of his mouth and absentmindedly sucked the digit clean as they continued walking.
Far enough away from the club that they could no longer see it, Spike reached out, stopping Buffy’s movement with a hand on her shoulder.
“Slayer, look at me.” After un-tucking his shirt from his trousers, he tipped her chin up, and used a corner of the hem to wipe his blood from her lips. “Show me the pearly whites, luv.” Amazingly enough, her teeth were clean.
Buffy batted his hands away from her face. “Stop fussing with me like someone’s maiden aunt, Spike. It’s not like I’ve never been seen in public with somebody’s blood on me before.” She smiled softly. “It’s not even the first time we’ve had each other’s blood on us.”
“Yeah, true that. But this is different,” Spike insisted. “The consequences of what I did… what we did… if there was any other way…”
For the first time since leaving the club, Buffy stumbled, unsure of herself. “Are you s-sorry for what you did? For your part of the claim?”
“Yes… No!” he blustered, not entirely sure of the question he was trying to answer. “That I had to do it, yes, I’m sorry. A claiming shouldn’t be forced or hurried… or public. That it was the only way I could insure you’d leave alive and in one piece… and with me? Hell no, m’not sorry at all.”
“But we have a problem now, don’t we?” The Slayer worried at her bottom lip with her teeth, looking up at Spike with wide, haunted eyes. “We’re stuck with each other… like an arranged marriage, aren’t we?”
Spike unhappily had to agree. “You really don’t have a clue what’s involved with a claiming, do you, pet? Watcher’s lessons never covered anythin’ but vamp/stake.”
She, too, had to agree as they continued to walk, finding themselves in Restfield Cemetery the next time they looked around. Like a pair of demented homing pigeons, she thought glumly.
The night was warm and dry, a full moon and a soft breeze made it pleasant to be outside. As if pre-arranged, both hopped up on a flat tombstone, settling in for a rest and a talk. Buffy broke the silence first.
“Okay, Spike. I get that I’m all ignorant-girl when it comes to the mating rituals of vampires. I just sort of went with a gut feeling when it came to returning your bite, especially after Pussy Galore called me a cow.”
Her hand fluttered to the right side of her neck, where the fresh bite throbbed mildly. Now she was marked on both sides of her neck. The Master, Angel, and Dracula all on the left side, Spike alone on the right.
Spike reached across the stone, gently stroking her cheek with his fingertips. “Does it hurt, luv? Tried m’best to make it look worse than it felt, but still…”
The remorse in his eyes for any pain he caused her dealt a massive crack to the protective wall she’d built up around her heart. It was an enlightening moment – he didn’t regret the bite in and of itself, just the circumstances and her pain.
“I-it didn’t really hurt as much as take me by surprise,” Buffy whispered, almost in awe as she remembered the speed with which he moved. “Geeze, Spike… if you moved like that when we were trying to kill each other, I’d’ve been, well… dead.”
“Was the dance that drew me, pet. Much more fun to spar an’ banter about. All the more exciting for being real.” He was right chuffed over her compliment… in a twisted sort of way. “Since our little truce, it became more important to save your pretty neck than t’break it.”
“And don’t think I don’t appreciate it, but I really think you should tell me about the whole claim business.”
“Not goin’ t’be distracted, are you, Buffy?” Spike had hoped to avoid telling her how deep the claim went into vampire society so soon, risking their seemingly budding relationship. “A mutual mating claim is second only to a Sire’s mark in import. Usually your Sire owns your ass. The bond between Sire and Childe is virtually unbreakable, except for…”
“A mating claim,” Buffy finished.
“Right you are, luv. An’ if Childe an’ Sire claim each other as mates, there is no force in the demon world that will rip the bond apart except death. An’ the remaining vamp usually follows their partner from the grief and loss.”
Buffy mulled his words over in her head for a moment before speaking, hating to bring her into the mix. “No wonder you and Dru were so close. Why you stopped fighting me to protect her in that stupid vampire club disaster.”
“That’s not it, sweetling.” Spike sighed, hating to admit this to himself much less Buffy. “Dru refused a mated relationship… because she still had a hankerin’ for her Sire. Nothin’ I did would ever place me in her heart where Angelus laid his claim twenty years before she turned me.”
“One way or another he’s raked us both over the coals, huh?” Buffy brought her hand to rest over the vampire’s, where it rested on the stone between them. “So are we considered fully mated under vampire law, even without the actual… you know, mating part?”
“Not really sure, pet. An’ we have the added bonus of you bein’ human an’ the Slayer. Only one with that much vampiric custom and law in his head’s the one neither of us has the stones to ask.”
“Well, we’re gonna have to ask someone, Spike,” she groused. “I can just see me trying to explain this to Giles. ‘You see, it’s like this: sometimes feelings develop in the workplace, and we got a little carried away, what with the life threatening sitch and all.’ Angel might stake you, but Giles is gonna crucify me!”
“Not to mention Mum,” Spike so helpfully pointed out.
“Oh damn. Please don’t mention Mom. We’ve got nothing to worry about from Angel and Giles… she’s gonna kill us both.” Buffy looked up hopefully, knowing better even as she spoke. “Slayer and vampire healing will wipe out the torn skin before we get home, right?”
“Claiming bites have a magic all their own to them. They’re meant to scar especially on vampire skin,” he sighed. “It’s gonna bruise all kinds of pretty colors an’ scab, then scar pink an’ fade. But it’ll be more prominent than the other bites ‘cause of the mutual claim.”
He touched the old bite scars on the left side of her neck. “These might even fade away, leavin’ you with only my claim.” He nudged her off the headstone. “No use in puttin’ this off any longer. Need to get you home an’ shored up.”
Buffy wobbled slightly as she started walking, and by the time they reached Revello Drive, Spike had to carry her the rest of the way.
“What the hell did you do to my daughter,” Joyce yelled as she opened the door, taking in the bloodied bite on Buffy’s neck. Even though she trusted Spike, the fact that he bore a matching wound and had the girl in his arms did nothing to alleviate her fears.
“I’m fine, Mom,” Buffy murmured weakly, belying her words. “Just need…”
“She could do with a nice rare steak, Joyce. Needs to replace a bit of iron in her system.” Spike settled the girl onto a chair, making sure she wasn’t going to topple over before getting a glass of orange juice out of the fridge. “Drink up, luv. It should help summat until you eat.”
Joyce held her council temporarily, standing back and watching the interaction between Slayer and vampire – her little girl and her chosen companion – and realized there was no way Spike would have bitten Buffy with malicious intent. Their sweet and gentle behavior calmed her terror enough that she was willing to listen to their explanations without prejudice.
By the time her mother put the steak before her, Buffy was sitting on Spike’s lap, allowing him to cut and feed it to her, piece by succulent piece. She did, indeed, feel better once the protein began to hit her system.
“All right you two. Now that my inclination is to listen first and maybe stake later, will somebody please tell me what all the biting was about?”
They rehashed the graveyard discussion, basically coming to the conclusion that the claim was a bond that went deeper than a human marriage, was virtually binding for Spike’s unlifetime, and unless they found a way to break it – should they want to break it – Buffy’s life wasn’t guaranteed should he dust before she died.
Spike tried his best to lay out their options in a calm fashion. “We have a problem, Joyce. There are only two people we can ask about the legitimacy of the claim and the ins and outs of vampiric law on mortals, Slayers in particular.”
“Mr. Giles and that Angel fellow, right?”
Buffy nodded. “Both of them are gonna want to stake first and ask questions later. A-and it wasn’t really Spike’s fault. H-he saved my life. I’m the idiot who jumped in and returned the claim without having clue about the consequences. It just felt right at the time.”
“Joyce… Mum,” Spike started, needing to admit something to all, himself included. “The part I regret about the claim isn’t that it’s with your daughter. It’s that we were just realizin’ there might be feelings between us. Stuff we didn’t know was buildin’, and this sort’ve forces the situation.”
She looked solemnly from Spike to Buffy, seeing fear in their eyes as they waited for her reaction to the vampire’s declaration. What’s a mother to do?
Joyce raised her hand to her mouth… and broke out with peals of laughter. “Oh my sweet babies. You two are so dense.”
Spike and Buffy looked at each other and turned to Joyce as if one, and said, “Huh?” provoking more giggles from the woman.
“You two have been heading towards each other like those dolls with little magnets in their heads for at least the past year. Funny thing is, you’re the only two who didn’t know it.” She shook her head, pushing away from the table.
“I’m going to bed. You two have plenty to work out, but it’s late, and you can deal with it all tomorrow.” Halfway up the stairs Joyce turned and said, “You may be married under vampire law… but in my house, it’s still separate bedrooms for you two.”
Buffy’s indignant shriek of “Mother!” rang from the kitchen.
After the dishes were done, they walked up the stairs, each heading for their own room. As they drifted off to sleep, hands lingered on their bite marks, feeling the odd tingle of the claim resonate throughout their bodies, wondering what tomorrow would bring.
Crazy Eights – Chapter 11 – Behind the Eight Ball
Buffy awoke feeling more tired than she had the night before. She’d slept in bits and snatches of less than hourly intervals. The throbbing of her claim bite matched the throbbing between her legs, leaving her unsatisfied as well as exhausted. If only she knew for certain that her feelings were real and not magically induced…
Yeah, she could admit to herself that she’d always been attracted to Spike – even when he was trying to kill her and her friends. She had two eyes, after all. He was a truly beautiful man – diamond sharp cheekbones; slender yet muscular build; a delicious ass that was a joy to watch as he strode away; and oh, the promise of things to come as he swaggered towards you.
She began to squirm under her covers. Cataloguing Spike’s virtues wasn’t the smartest thing she could be doing when she was already so worked up. Only thing stupider would be going to see him.
“Might as well come in, Slayer, since neither one of us is sleepin’ anything worth a damn.”
“You, too?” she sighed, going to sit next to Spike on the mattress, and running her fingers through his tousled hair.
Adjusting himself surreptitiously under the blanket, he leaned into her caress. “Luv, I could knock down a building with my hands tied behind my back.”
Buffy’s cheeks pinked at the image playing in her pervy little brain. Her breathing grew shallow. “Oh God,” she moaned. “This was a really bad idea.”
“Self control not your strong suit, pet?”
“You wanna see who’s got self control issues, you beast?” The devil gleaming in her eyes, Buffy crawled around the mattress and knelt up next to the vampire. She pressed a series of soft butterfly kisses up the right side of his neck. “I can stop any time I want to,” she purred, crossing his body to reach the other side of Spike’s neck.
Her bite mark had scarred a deep rose pink, and Buffy blew a warm stream of air across it. Self control my ass, she huffed as Spike hissed and arched backwards. “And we all know you’re the king of restraint, right?”
“I can control myself better than you, pet,” he panted softly, gripping the bedding to keep from grabbing hold of Buffy. “Been at it for a long, long time.”
“We’ll see,” she purred. With the flat of her tongue, she licked a broad stroke up the side of his neck, over her claim mark.
The sound of the sheets ripping was drowned out by Spike’s pleasured growl. He grabbed Buffy by the arms and hauled her into his lap, the thin cotton of her sleep pants doing nothing to disguise their desire.
“Little minx,” he ground out, bucking upwards towards Buffy’s heat. “Two can play at that game.” He nibbled and licked gently at his claim mark.
Holy crap! Who cared what the repercussions of a mating claim were as long as it felt like that? Buffy wrapped both arms around Spike’s neck, fully prepared to launch an assault on his lips when…
Ahem Joyce cleared her throat, leaning against the door jamb. “I seem to recall mentioning something about separate bedrooms for you two. I wasn’t talking just to hear the sound of my own voice.”
The blonds jumped apart like a couple of teenagers caught necking. Buffy was flushed, and they were both panting heavily, each finding something on the floor absolutely fascinating.
“I know it’s not easy for you two, trying to figure out how much of this is real, but rushing into sex without a single answer is bound to make things harder… um, more difficult in the long run.” Joyce flushed pink over her choice of words, trying to avoid Spike’s raised eyebrow and her daughter’s indignant glare. “I’d say call Mr. Giles now and get as much information as possible before giving in to your urges.”
“Sorry, Mum. Didn’t mean to get carried away.” Spike stole a glance at Buffy, who was busy twisting the sheet in her hands.
“Well, that’s part of the problem. Just thinking about the claim is enough to keep your minds focused on your feelings and is a built-in excuse to let yourselves go at it.” Joyce smiled warmly at both Spike and Buffy. “I was young once and I know what it feels like to get caught up in the moment. I just don’t want you to be sorry.”
“Fine, Mother,” Buffy grumped as she headed towards her own room. “Shower, dress, breakfast and call Giles. What fun, what joy.”
She picked out a white ribbed sleeveless turtleneck to keep Spike’s bite undercover until the time was right. However, a quick look at the vampire in question disclosed an additional problem. Buffy’s bite was glaringly obvious on his pale neck.
“Um, let me make a wild guess here, Spike… you and turtlenecks aren’t mixy things, huh?”
Spike’s fingers drifted towards her mark, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You marked me good and proper, luv. An’ m’not one for scarves, neither.”
“You’ve got to keep it covered until we can talk it out.” Buffy began to panic. “Old eagle eye Giles’ll spot that from a mile away and you know he carries a stake with him at all times. I don’t want there to be any trouble with him jumping to conclusions…”
“It’ll be tricky, yeah,” Spike agreed, “but I think the old duster’ll keep things under wraps.” As an afterthought he added: “He’d probably be more suspicious if I i didn’t /i wear it. It’ll be fine, Buffy,” he soothed. Eventually.
Buffy nodded, and picked up the receiver. The phone call was simple enough. She invited her Watcher over for lunch, telling him it was time to discuss removing Spike’s chip.
Now all they had to do was wait.
The level of tension in the Summers’ household escalated tenfold.
By the time Giles arrived, Buffy was flitting around the house like a moth, unable to light anywhere for more than a few moments at a time. The third time she headed towards the kitchen to check on things,
Spike grabbed her around the waist and attempted to pull her onto his lap. “Settle down, Slayer. You’ve probably lost five pounds from runnin’ back and forth.”
Buffy balked, catching Giles’ eye as she tried to wriggle out of his grasp.
“Is everything all right, Buffy?” Her nervous behavior had obviously worried him. “Any problems with Spike spending so much time around you?”
“No!” she yelped, a little too loudly. “No, no. No Spike problems at all. See?” Buffy pointedly sat down on the couch right next to him.
Joyce kicked open the kitchen door, carrying a fully laden tray. “Soup’s on,” she chirped, setting down mugs of tea, coffee and blood on the table. One more trip brought fresh onion soup topped by a crust of toasted cheese and a basket of fresh rolls.
Spike led Buffy to the table, pulled out a chair and settled her in, and then did the same for Joyce before sitting down, himself.
In-between mouthfuls, Buffy decided to get the ball rolling. “So, Giles… have you figured out a way to remove that awful chip?”
“I’ll see what I can do after lunch. I have a few theories that will hopefully leave Spike’s hand and the chip intact, which would be the best of all possible outcomes,” he muttered, removing his glasses and wiping the lenses absentmindedly with his handkerchief. “Putting the chip into a compartment ring might allow Spike entry into the club without rousing suspicion…” he trailed off, fixating on something nearby.
Buffy noted his furrowed brow. “Spill, Giles,” she demanded. “I’m not liking that expression on your face.” She followed his gaze and noted that her hand had crept into Spike’s, their fingers intertwined. “What? You’re all wrinkly ‘cause of a little finger touching?” Her fingers tightened around Spike’s in a show of… defiance? Support?
“I-it’s not just the fingers, erm… handholding, Buffy,” Giles stammered, obviously trying to hold onto his temper. “All throughout lunch it’s been quite obvious that you and your mother have been overly solicitous towards Spike. She brought him warmed blood three times during the course of the meal, and you – you’re practically sitting in his lap. I’m worried about a thrall…”
“She has a mind of her own.” Joyce glared at the older man. “… and Spike is a guest in my home, same as you. Is it so hard to believe I would show common courtesy to a vampire who…”
“Mom!” Buffy squeaked, catching her mother’s eye with a quick lip-zipping motion.
“Really now, I must object,” Giles insisted. “Keeping secrets from me is never a good thing. If you’re in trouble…”
Spike sat back with his arms folded across his chest. “Really, Rupes. I’m all flattered-like, you thinkin’ I’m such a threat to the Summers women.”
“Do keep out of this, Spike,” Giles snapped, annoyance etched clearly on his face. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
A raised eyebrow was the vampire’s response.
“It’s just that I don’t understand how both of you can fuss so over a soulless vampire. He’s a dangerous creature. You’re the Slayer, Buffy… or don’t you remember? It’s your calling to stake him and his ilk. And you, Joyce… I don’t recall you ever being so accommodating towards Angel.”
Buffy smiled as Spike preened at her Watcher’s words. He really was getting a kick out of all the fuss.
“Well, it’s true. I never thought Angel was right for my daughter. There was just something so…”
“Broody?”
“You’re not helping, bloodbreath,” Buffy muttered, slapping lightly at Spike’s shoulder.
Joyce, however, laughed. “Yes, well that does say it all doesn’t it? And Angel's no Spike, Mr. Giles. You’ll just have to learn to deal with it.”
Focusing on the task before him, Giles palpated Spike’s hand, getting a feel of the physical placement of the chip. The skin itself was exceptionally thin, and creating a flap to remove the device would be relatively simple, if messy.
Buffy sat next to Spike, unwilling to leave his side. She held on tightly to his left hand, offering her support. “Are you sure the chip won’t explode when you take it out? You know… do the self-destructo thing like in Mission Impossible?”
She could tell her Watcher was nervous by the way he kept looking at the scalpel and bowls of water on the table. A look passed between mother and daughter; one that said they hoped the house would still be standing when the operation was over.
“I’ll do the best I can, Buffy,” he grumbled. “I’ll try not to let my feelings get in the way.”
Once a topical anesthetic had been applied, Giles got to work. He wore a doctor’s loupe while making the three incisions around the chip. Using tweezers, he gingerly peeled back the skin, revealing the device.
Lacking the working circulatory system of a normal human, Spike’s blood flowed sluggishly from the wounds, allowing Giles the time to locate the chip with a minimum of fuss and mess. Several times he had to ask Spike to remove his head from his field of vision. The blood seemed to call to him – even knowing it was his own.
The chip sparked upon extraction, causing everyone to jump slightly in alarm. Giles quickly dropped the device into a bowl of tepid water, hoping to eliminate the chance of an explosion. When nothing further happened, he returned to Spike’s hand, securing the dime sized flap shut with several stitches.
The women breathed twin sighs of relief. Joyce gently ruffled the relieved vampire’s gelled hair, breaking the lacquered perfection into unruly tufts. “What a little trooper you are, Spike. Want me to kiss it and make it better?”
At the flash in Buffy’s eyes as she moved slightly closer to him, Spike snickered. “Don’t think that’s a wise idea, Mum. Seems the Slayer’s a bit proprietary about her vampires.”
“Oh for…” Giles sighed, rolling his eyes. “Is this the way it’s to be from now on? All happy families?”
Buffy glared at her Watcher, then turned to her mother. “Nobody lays a lip on my vampire except me,” she declared, her eyes widening slightly as she realized what she’d voiced out loud – and then at what she saw:
Joyce’s fingers had strayed from the top of Spike’s head to his neck, accidentally exposing the dark pink scar and bruises to Giles’ attention.
“Is there something you’re not telling me, Buffy?” he asked, his clipped tones betraying his anger and mistrust.
The urge to fold in on herself, or to run, was strong. However, she was never going to get a better opening to bring up the claiming. Buffy took a deep breath and… as if it were perfectly timed, the front door opened to reveal Xander and Willow.
“Hey honeys, we’re home!” He stopped short at the sight of Giles with his hands around Spike’s neck. “You couldn’t have held off on the fun and games until I got here, G-man?”
“This isn’t a laughing matter, Xander.” Giles bristled at the boy’s cavalier attitude. “That bite mark was made by human teeth.”
Willow gasped.
Xander paled as he came to the same conclusion as his best friend. He strode over to Buffy and pulled her sweater’s cowl away from her neck, exposing Spike’s bitemark.
“You son of a bitch! You swore you’d keep your filthy fangs to yourself,” he spat, shoving Buffy to the side in his haste to get at Spike.
Buffy’s sharp yelp of pain as she collided with the table roused Spike’s demon more than the boy’s words, and he twisted out of Giles’ grasp to go to her defense, growling and gamefaced.
“You keep your bloody hands off’ve my mate, or I’ll rip ‘em off, myself.”
“Buffy, don’t let him hurt Xander.” Willow wrung her hands, remembering just how volatile the vampire could be when riled. “You know he only wants to keep you safe.”
“And Spike only wants to keep me safe. Why can’t anyone see that?”
Red-faced with fury, Xander turned on his friend. “How can you say that, Buff? The last time you let a vamp sink his fangs into you, we almost lost you.”
“What does it take to get through to you people?” Spike threw his hands up in frustration and began to pace around the livingroom. “M’not Angel. I’d never hurt the girl.”
Joyce placed herself between all the warring factions and let loose a piercing whistle. “That’s enough. All of you! This is my home, not the Coliseum. You might think you have Buffy’s best interests at heart, Xander,” she said, glaring at the young man, “but it’s not your place to impose your beliefs on my daughter. She’s already got a mother, and a damned fine mind of her own.”
“But… but… fangs, and biting, and blood sucking,” Xander spluttered. “Should be Slayer and staking – not mating!”
“Maybe we don’t know everything,” Willow soothed, trying for reasonable. “Maybe there’s a really good reason for the…”
Xander was unwilling to listen. “No! No way… and don’t even try to make excuses for the bleached freak. It’s a simple matter of right and wrong, folks. Slayer good, vampire bad.”
“Really, Xander… we need to be reasonable here.” Once again the older man removed his glasses for cleaning, trying to buy himself time as well as to refocus the boy’s attention. “What’s done can’t be undone.”
“You can’t possibly be happy about this, Giles. And Mrs. Summers… I know you have a weak spot for Fangboy, but do you really want your daughter married to a vampire?” Xander reached into his pocket and pulled out a stake. “This is how we deal with vampires. We dust ‘em, not…”
“Xander!”
“Finish that statement, you git, an’ I’ll…”
“Spike!”
“Buffy!”
“Mom!”
Another whistle from Joyce rent the air, silencing the din. “I’ve had just about as much of this nonsense as I can stand. Xander, if you can’t be reasonable, you’ll have to leave. It’s more important to figure out just what Buffy and Spike have gotten themselves into than to fight about it.”
“I still don’t see the problem,” the brunet snarled, still brandishing his stake. “Aim, stake… problem go poof!”
“Um, Xander?” Willow timidly approached her best friend. “It may be more complicated than that. There are probably serious magicks involved in the claiming bites, and we don’t know what dusting Spike would do to Buffy. It’s not a good idea to be so hasty.”
“You guys can’t do this. For five years you’ve been all gung-ho to kill everything with fangs, except for Angel, and personally? I’d’ve been happy to dust Deadboy no matter what. Maybe Ms. Calendar would still be alive if Buffy hadn’t been boffing the undead. No good can come of starting this up again… especially with him.”
“It’s really not your call, Xander,” Buffy said, softly. “It’s my life, and I have to take responsibility for my own actions. I know you mean well, but…”
“Yeah. But you’ll do whatever you want to, same as always. And we pay for your vampire fetish.” Running his free hand through his hair, he took a deep breath to steady himself. “All righty then. Just don’t come crying to me when it all blows up in your face and the bleached wonder turns on you and someone else ends up dead. C’mon, Will. Let’s get out of here and leave the demon lovers to their own thing.”
Looking over his shoulder, he realized Willow wasn’t following. She stood next to Buffy, wringing her hands, eyes downcast.
“You’re not coming?”
With a half-smile, she said: “Sorry, Xander. I think Buffy can use my help. I-I want to help. And Spike’s been really helpful the past few years. I don’t think he wants to hurt her.”
Without another word, Xander stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him, and Willow burst into tears.