Who knew Captain and Tenille could be so fucking sexy? And right? Love would keep them together, Buffy mused. And Heller and Wes.

“Beautiful ceremony. Wouldn’t you agree?” Her breath hitched on the last word. She shook her head at Spike, pushing his questing fingers away from her clit.

“I’m asking your opinion and you’re twiddling my twat.” Buffy huffed, either from the jolt she’d gotten on her last surge or from true disapproval, Spike wasn’t sure.

In response to her pout, Spike chuckled and tweaked her right nipple. “Luv, your twat was made to be twiddled, and besides, weddings aren’t for guys. They are all about the gal. Heller was beautiful and Wes was happy. That’s all I noticed.”

He noticed other things too, like the tears in Heller’s eyes as Wes slid the emerald and diamond ring onto her left hand, the way Wes’ chest puffed with pride when the justice introduced Lee as his wife. Oh, yeah, he’d observed a lot.

“You noticed more than that, Mr. Perceptive.” Buffy grinned, leaning forward till their foreheads touched. “You did a good job tonight. Always knew you were the best man.” Her tongue darted out, sliding across his lips, slowly tasting him. Butterscotch ice cream. Rich, creamy, and oh, so sinful. Murder on her hips, but worth every drop.

Spike snickered as he opened his mouth to steal her tongue. His fingers traced a path from her hips to the underside of her breasts, across her collarbone to bury in her hair. Buffy whimpered and squirmed as she the lack of air became a problem. In direct reaction to it, she squeezed his cock tightly, pushing a grunt from Spike in response. They broke apart with a gasp, eyes locked on the other as Buffy bore down, grinding her hips onto Spike’s pelvis. Her back arched as she strove to pull more and more of him inside of her. Her head rolled back, her hair flowing down her back like a cape.

“Fuck, Buffy.”

“I. Am. I am. I am.” She chanted, her voice squeaking with each undulation until she pressed the palms of her hands onto his biceps, her fingers gripping into his flesh. It was painful, but a good, good pain.

“I thought you were going to cut your nails. Damn things are bound to leave marks.” Spike joked, thrusting hard into Buffy’s fluttering muscles. He loved the feel of her cunt right after she came. Her snatch felt, and she laughed the first time he told her, like warm pudding. Apple pie had nothing on his baby.

Buffy lifted her head, wiggling her brows mischievously. “Sorry. I won’t use my hands.” She giggled in reply. Spike had a moment’s pause as he threw back his head, laughing, before he realized Buffy was no longer hugging his cock with her delectable muscles. Her hand, tiny and strong gripped him, stroking his length leisurely. His eyebrow arched as she pulled her leg over his thigh, allowing her to kneel before the altar that was his body.

“Have I told you lately that you are one fine and sexy man?” She queried, the hazel of her eyes turning a darker, deeper green.

“Not in so many words, luv.”

Buffy shook her head in mock reproach. “I’m a bad girlfriend.” She admitted, leaning forward, her cotton candy-colored tongue darting out to lap at Spike’s nipple. His fingers threaded in her mane of honey-blonde hair, quietly encouraging her efforts on his behalf.

No woman should be so blessed as to have Spike naked, willing, and oh, so able to achieve multiple orgasms in a single night. But Buffy was, and she was a selfish bitch. He wasn’t for sharing.

Buffy rose on her knees, slurping as she licked her way from one wet nipple to the other, puckering in anticipation of her touch. She decided this nipple deserved a different fate from its breathen. She flattened her tongue, seesawing back and forth over the bud. She chuckled as she felt Spike’s hips jerk in response to her ministrations. She looked up, all mischievous and lustful. “I guess you like that huh?”

Not waiting for a response, she blew on the straining bud before inching down to his navel. Ick thought of the day popped into her mind. Riley had sand in his bellybutton one time. But looking at Spike’s little button blew off remembrances of Riley to the nether region. Thank the lord. Buffy thought. She glanced at her hand, its digits becoming slick with pearly liquid. She’d never been bold enough to suck her fingers after jerking Spike off, but she wanted to, if only for the reaction it would garner from him. But the itchy tingle in her crotch told her she didn’t have much longer till she got off, and she was bound and determine to suck him to a glorious orgasm before she did.

She lifted her head, teasing Spike’s stomach with her tresses. She loved the way his stomach jerked and tensed as the strands passed over the sinew beneath them.

Spike ached to push her head down on his crotch, but he knew that was the quickest way to rosy palm. Buffy liked to do things in her own time, even if it threatened his sanity. She wouldn’t be rushed. She’d get to his cock when she was good and ready, and she would make sure he was gagging for the warmth of her mouth when she did.

“Hello, Mr. Spikey.” Buffy whispered seductively as she lowered her lips to kiss the throbbing head. Somewhere in her lust addled mind, she heard Spike hiss in pain or pleasure, she wasn’t sure. And she really didn’t care. She’d take care of him.

“That’s it, baby. Take me home. God… you magnificent bitch.” Spike groaned as his dick was enveloped in warmth. It felt like molten lava to his sensitive skin, but he’d take a daily dip in it, and come to think of it, he did.

Her right hand caressed his length, her strokes shorter, but harder. Joining with the suction of her lips to jerk and pull his cock deeper into the cavern of her throat. Spike pressed his hips into the bed, resisting the urge to heave up with his hips, jamming his cock deeper into the paradise that was her mouth. Buffy wasn’t making it easy on a bloke, though. She was humming and the vibrations along his cock were like music to a dancer. He wanted to move. He wanted to sing.

“Bloody hell!” He roared, his hips coming off the bed as he came in a long, glorious gush. Buffy’s finger slid up and down the smooth skin at the base of his cock, milking every last drop of cum from him till he sagged, boneless, exhausted, relieved, sated, and a whole bunch of other adjectives in the thesaurus, to the bed.

Buffy dabbed her lips delicately on the sheets as she covered them. The chill of the air conditioning raising goosebumps on their exposed flesh.

At that moment, the fountain at the Mirage spouted its technicolor show, giving them the perfect finale to their evening.

“I couldn’t have described how I was feeling any better.” Spike murmured sleepily. Buffy sat up on her elbows enjoying the show.

“So you’re saying I’m a Las Vegas water show?”

“I’m saying I came like a geyser and saw stars. Now, close that beautiful mouth and let me recover. The next light show is in a hour.”

Buffy shrieked in laughter as Spike rolled over, pinning her to the bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Going to the chapel and they’re going to get married.” The miniature bride and groom danced along the bedspread, jumping on and over Lindsey’s bare leg. “Gawd… I feel like dancing.” Cordy exclaimed.

“But instead of you dancing”, Lindsey smirked, stroking his finger across Cordelia’s collarbone, “you’ve got the cake topper doing it for you.”

Cordelia leaned in, kissed Lindsey hard on the lips, before rocking back on her heels. “You couldn’t handle my naked dance. And besides, Buffy got the bouquet, I had to get something to remind me of this momentous occasion.” She pouted.

Lindsey scooted forward, wrapping his arms around Cordy. He nuzzled his lips against Cordy’s neck. “Who knew Buffy could leap that high. She’s only five foot two.”

“Yeah, I know. I think Spike might have given her a boost when he slapped her ass, but I can’t be sure.’ Cordy grumbled.

“Well, Spike’s hands and Buffy’s ass are intimately acquainted.” As if to demonstrate, Cordy felt Lindsey’s hand slide down her back to clutch her own butt.

“Well…umm…you make a good point, sweetie.” Cordy’s eyes flitted shut, her head rolling back as every nerve ending below the Mason-Dixon line began to hum with excitement. “Can I say, before I can’t, that Heller never looked more beautiful, and Wes done good.”

“What was that?” Lindsey replied, his head shooting up, knocking gently against Cordy’s chin.

“Wes…Heller…Wedded bliss.” Cordy grabbed tuffs of Lindsey’s hair, dragging his mouth to hers in a blistering kiss that left little to the imagination.

“Wes…Lucky… Pulled off a good one. Didn’t have a clue.” He said, recovering his breath and Cordy’s hand. “Can we save on the rah rah awws until after this?” He said, motioning to the bed.

“Oh, I do like the way your mind… and the rest of you work, Mr. MacDonald.” Cordy giggled, pressing Lindsey back onto the bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lee checked her reflection in the mirror again. Did she look different? Did she feel different? No, to the first question. Yes, to the second. There were no words to describe this incredible feeling of belonging that she had. She was complete, done..whatever, but now her life was joined irrevocably with his, and that was what had her flummoxed. Lee stared at her left hand, still unable to believe the whirlwind of the last 24 hours. Yesterday morning, she was a single, satisfied, well-loved woman and went to bed a married, satisfied, extremely well-loved woman. It was mind-boggling and incredible and she couldn’t believe she’d been blessed with the richness of Wes’ love.

“I’m Mrs. Wesley Wyndham-Price.” She didn’t say it too loud for fear she’d awaken from the best dream of her life. “Mrs. Wesley Wyndham-Price, that’s me.” Heller giggled a little hysterically, pressing her fingers to her lips to shush herself.

A quick peek out the bathroom door found her husband…oh, she was going to laugh again…sprawled like a starfish on the king-sized bed.

He didn’t look different to her eyes. She’d seen him in many incarnations. Shy, college boy. Arrogant law student. Seductive lover. Loyal friend. But this new incarnation, well…it fit him like a glove.

Lee turned the light off, walking slowly back to the bed and her husband. She slipped quietly under the sheets, edging her leg between Wes’ legs. He mumbled, immediately turning his head towards her warmth.

“To have and to hold…even while you’re sleeping.” She whispered into his ear.

“Hmm…what? Did you say something, m’dear?” Brown eyes squinted at her, blind without his glasses.

Lee smiled, knowing she was nothing more than a blur. “Just repeating something I heard earlier.” His lips were much too tempting to not kiss, which she did. She was a smart woman after all.

Wes leaned into the kiss, drawing her lips between his teeth. The lasting memory of their first kiss, fresh in his mind. He loved her then and now.

Lee buried her face in his neck, wrapping her arms, her legs, her being around her man. He was her husband and she was his wife. No one would ever come between them.

“You do realize we’ll have to leave and go back to home.”

Lee looked up, pressing her finger to Wes’ lips. “Don’t want to think about home. Just want to think about you.” Kiss. “and me.” Kiss. “Everything else can wait.”

When Wes looked at her with those big brown eyes, she felt fifteen all over again. “I love the way you look at me.” She blurted out.

Wes wavered between shock and amusement. “Oh, really, and how do I look at you? I’m curious.” Now that the engagement and the wedding were over, Wes felt more like himself. The nervous, bumbling idiot had been put to rest. Lee was his forever and ever and he had the paperwork to prove it.

Lee didn’t have to give it much thought. “You look at me like I’m heaven on earth.”

A kiss to her forehead and an intertwining of their fingers was the only sign from Wes that he’d heard her. When the tears sprang up in his eyes, Lee felt her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

“You’re wrong, Lee. I look at you and see my everything.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riley looked out over the crowd, searching for Harmony. This was the third club he’d visited tonight, and he hoped it was his last. For a woman who prided herself on being an exhibitionist, Harmony had certainly perfected the art of invisibility in the last week. This was all his fault. He’d been in the wrong. Not exactly an unfamiliar position for him to be in. But the thing was that he wanted to apologize. He wanted to do whatever was needed to get Harmony back. Because he missed her. Not only in his bed or on the floor or wherever, but he also missed her laugh and her warped outlook on life, and the way she stood up for him, even when he was too dumb to realize she meant only the best for him.

He wasn’t the half-wit everyone assumed him to be. He’d taken the time to look up the word “groveling”. Just to be on the safe side. According to Webster’s Dictionary, there were several meanings. He could pick and choose.

1 : to creep with the face to the ground : CRAWL

2 a : to lie or creep with the body prostrate in token of subservience or abasement b : to abase oneself

3 : to give oneself over to what is base or unworthy : WALLOW <groveling in self-pity>

Basically, he needed to get on his knees and beg and plead with Harmony to forgive him. He didn’t mind doing that. Hell, that was part of the appeal of their relationship.

Riley scanned the dance floor again, noting that in the time he’d taken to meditate the club had filled up. Clubbers were everywhere. He’d never find Harmony in all of this.

“Wake the fuck up!!” The D.J. screamed from his perch. “Wake the fuck up! We’ve got two of the hottest porn stars with us tonight, and if you’re lucky, maybe they’ll go down on you.”

Riley’s eyes widened. Okay, he really wanted to find Harmony, but you couldn’t drag him away from this joint with a million dollar bribe. There was no fucking way he was going to miss a free show.

“Ahhhh…I see that got your attention. Well, a little birdie told me that our guests are getting busy in the back, so they can get busy for you.”

The excitement was building. No one knew who the porn stars were, but the free-flowing alcohol and drugs had everyone horny as a toad. Even Riley felt his little soldier rising to the occasion.

“Guys get your cocks ready, and girls get your quims wet. Here for your enjoyment and mine…oh, yeah..mine, we have Clem and Glory, stars of this year’s hottest selling video, Master Cock and Commander’s Slut.”

The curtains parted and out walked the couple of the hour, but a blonde in a short red mini who was screaming and jumping near the stage captured Riley’s attention.

Harmony.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Damn you, Riley Finn. Harmony screamed at the top of her lungs. For good measure, she threw in a couple of stomps, imagining Riley’s big fat head smashed under her stiletto heels.

That fucker had ruined her. That was the only reasonable explanation she could give for why she was not enjoying the hot action on stage. She loved Clem and Glory. Owned all their movies, and yet, nothing. Not a tingle or shudder. Nothing. She wanted to cry.

“Stupid jerk.” Harmony gnawed on the end of her straw, frustrated both sexually and mentally. How had she gotten herself into this stitch? She wasn’t supposed to fall in love. She wasn’t built that way. Love ‘em and leave ‘em Kendall. That was her nickname, but the six foot 2 lug had wormed his way into her heart, and for that he had to die.

Who was she fooling? She missed him. She missed his laugh, the way his nose would flare and his mouth would drop open when he was about to cum. She missed him, and she didn’t. He hurt her feelings, and she didn’t take kindly to that. Worse than that, he made her feel.

“Harm…Harm..Harm..whatever will we do with our little social butterfly?” Strong arms wrapped around Harmony’s waist.

Great, she inwardly groaned, just what I needed.

Harmony kept her eyes glued to the stage, watching as Clem and Glory reenacted a scene from their movie with the assistant of the DJ and a volunteer.

“Hello, Caleb. When did they let you out?”

Caleb’s chuckle made Harmony want to gag, but she allowed him to turn her in his arms. “Last week. You are a sight for sore eyes. Didn’t think I’d see you again. Grapevine says you’re hanging with a quote unquote straight-lace.”

Harm gritted her teeth, wanting desperately to ram her knee in Caleb’s crotch. Son of a bitch would start lecturing her soon. His nickname was Preacher, after all.

Harm pushed Caleb’s arms off. “What do you want Caleb? Did you just stop by to say hello or is this conversation going somewhere?”

The shift was so sudden, it would have surprised Harmony if she wasn’t familiar with it. Gone were the laughing eyes and charming smile, in their place were the dark, cold eyes and grimace of a man who didn’t like to be dismissed.

“That little mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble someday.” He said, menacingly.

“You’re probably right, but not tonight.” Riley stepped between Caleb and Harmony, shielding her with his body. Riley turned away from Caleb’s startled countenance to Harmony’s. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Connor sighed in his sleep, lips quirking into a grin. Dawn leaned up on her elbow, careful not to jar her sleeping companion. She had to press her face into the pillow to keep from giggling. He looked so peaceful, sleeping the sleep of the dead. For all Dawn knew, Connor was part zombie or something.

He should be exhausted. Lord knew being the protective, jealous boyfriend took a lot out of a fellow. Dawn supposed she should be upset with him, but he looked so damn cute brooding and glaring at the frat guys. She supposed for independent women everywhere she should put up a fight, but that would be the pot calling the kettle black. The big difference, though, was she looked good in green.

Connor stirred beside her, turning on his side away from her. Dawn scooted till their skin touched again.

“I’m hungry.” Connor grumbled.

“Me too.” Dawn kissed her way up his back, till she was draped half over him. “How ya doing this morning?”

Connor resisted telling her the truth, that he’d felt her eyes on him, her skin on his chest, her breath on his skin, and all of that had doubled his usual morning woody.

“My tongue feels like lead. My head may or may not be on straight. I’m not sure.”

Dawn patted Connor’s shoulder as she sat up, pushing her hair out of her face. “Well, if you weren’t trying to be all manly and stuff, you wouldn’t have gotten into a chugging contest with a bunch of guys that make that a weekly, no, daily event in their lives.”

Dawn wasn’t shouting. In fact, she was talking quietly, stroking his hair as she reprimanded him.

“God…why didn’t you stop me?” Connor groaned, clutching his head.

Dawn pulled his hands out of his hair, forcing Connor to look at her. Dawn wanted nothing more than to roll him onto his back and straddle him while they talked, but she wasn’t dumb or blonde. Guys got morning stiffies, and Connor was a guy. There was no point in tempting him with poisonous fruit.

“It would have taken draining every drop of testosterone from your body to get you to stop. You were jealous. You didn’t like the looks the guys were giving me, and guess what?” She said, a twinkle in her eyes. She leaned closer, brushing her lips across his lips, holding back the grimace as she took a whiff of stale beer and Jim Beam on Connor’s breath. “You weren’t the only one with a little green eyed monster perched on his shoulder. If not for my womanly sensibilities, there would have been a new batch of bald-headed girls today.”

One brown eyebrow quirked, amused and smug. “Really?”

“If you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking and it involves me, other girls, and mud, don’t.”

Connor’s eyes widened and he shrugged innocently. “Who me? I would never think of you in that sense. I have the utmost respect for you.”

Dawn laid her head on Connor’s shoulder, scoffing at his protest. She would ignore the obvious lie of his statement. There were more pressing matters to consider. “Okay…you need nourishment. So do I. But…First things first. You and a toothbrush must become intimately acquainted.”

Connor shook her lightly. “As opposed to you and me becoming intimately acquainted?”

Dawn bumped Connor’s chin as she sat up. Oh, hell, Connor thought, she’s pissed. He was just joking. Didn’t she know that? Didn’t she realize he wouldn’t do anything to push her? He loved her.

A month ago, Dawn would have felt pressured by Connor’s statement, but that was then. Now, she took it for the joke it was. “Your toothbrush has known you longer.”

Connor blinked, his mouth gaping open slightly. Dawn snickered, her eyes widening as she saw the shock fade from Connor’s face. “Are you saying my breath stinks?”

Dawn nodded her head vigorously. “Uh huh. It’s making my eyelashes curl.”

“So a kiss is out of the question?”

“Not exactly.” Dawn wagged her finger slowly. “I’ve got a strong stomach.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Row, row, row your boat. Gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream.”

Tara lifted the boat on a wave created by a foot sliding across her thighs. Her brow arched, shaking her head in mock reproach. “Stop trying to rock my boat, Xander.”

“No fair. You’re hogging the boat.” Willow complained, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips.

“You’ve got a submarine between your legs, Will. You don’t see me complaining about my empty port.”

Xander blushed from the roots of his damp brown hair to his toes. “So nice to be compared to naval ships.”

Willow leaned back, her hand turning Xander’s head so she could capture his lips in a slow, hot kiss.

“Now, that just isn’t fair.” Tara pouted.

The trill of the phone paused Tara in mid-pout as she rose to join her lovers’ embrace. A little frustrated, Tara leaned over the edge of the tub to snatch the cordless off the rug.

She had a couple of choices.

Answer the phone. Delay trying to determine the record for underwater fellatio/cunnilingus.

Answer the phone. Be a giving girl and allow Willow her heterorgasm.

Answer the phone. Hop out the tub and get her own submarine. Decisions. Decisions.

She looked at the caller ID. “Vegas. Who the hell is calling us from Vegas?”

Willow pulled away from Xander, leaning forward to peer over Tara’s shoulder. “Who is it?”

“Let’s see. Hullo?”

“Tara. Don’t freak I didn’t elope.” Buffy was no fool. She knew the interworkings of Tara’s mind. It wouldn’t take more than a nanosecond for Tara to jump to the conclusion that Buffy and Spike had eloped to Vegas. While not a farfetched possibility, it wasn’t the case.

“Are you sure? Folks have been known to go to Vegas, get drunk, get the Vegas itch, end up at the Little Chapel of Love married to a hunky boy from Panama, and then no less than 55 hours later, they are annulled.”

Buffy snickered. Britney, thank you, for the endless comedic material.

“Hmm… I’m pretty sure me and my hunky boy from England are still single and loving it. We did have an elopement, though. Wes surprised Heller with a proposal and tickets to Vegas. We came along for the ride.”

Tara dropped the boat, watching as it float between Xander’s outstretched legs. Oh, her mind was so in the gutter right now.

“Ah ha…so no Charlie Brown’s. Oh, well, that just means we’ll have to take Heller there for a post-nuptial bachelorette party.”

“Why am I suddenly afraid?” Buffy responded.

“Because you know how Tara’s mind works.” Willow kissed the pout off Tara’s lips, multitasking by rolling her hips ever so slowly. “She may look all sweet and innocent on the outside, but on the inside, it’s hot and naughty.”

“Oh, brother.” Buffy groaned, her hand smacking her forehead lightly.

In the background, Buffy could hear the unmistakable splash of water against porcelain and a man on the verge of…

“Umm…Will…I need.. god..” Xander’s groans and moans had Buffy pulling the phone away from her ear, twisting up her mouth in dismay.

“Oh, Buffy…we’ve got to go. Xander’s kinda in a bind and…”

“No, go. Please. Go.” Buffy reiterated.

“Talk to you soon?” Willow asked even as Tara pressed her back against Xander’s chest.

“Yeah… tomorrow. I’ll call you when we get home.”

“Umm…o…”

Buffy clicked the phone off, throwing it across the room onto the bed. “Remind me to never continue a call with those two when I can hear panting and water in the background.”

Spike pushed Buffy’s hair over her shoulder, eyeing her with laughing eyes. “I promise.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There had been a time when she feared him, when the timbre of his voice a hair above yelling would send her scurrying off to her room, weeping onto the chests of those damn antique dolls. That time was past. Saxby knew that little girl was long gone. It hadn’t taken puberty to convince him of his powerlessness. All he had to do was look into Druscilla’s black as coal eyes and know the truth. Inside, she was dead. There was only one thing Druscilla feared and that was losing her status, and it was a weapon he planned to use whenever he felt he needed to drive home a point.

“Damnit, Druscilla! I expected better of you and Liam. If you were having problems in your marriage, they should have been kept under wraps until the election was past. Or at the very least, you should have contacted someone within our circle of friends.”

Of course, Dr. Richard, drug doctor to the rich and famous of Greater San Diego County.

“Druscilla, dear, we’re only concerned for your happiness.” Marilyn scooted closer, cautiously placing her hand on Dru’s arm.

Dru’s gaze slowly shifted to her mother. Marilyn tensed as Dru raised her hand to caress Marilyn’s ivory cheek.

“Mother…Father… I promise you after the election, Liam and I will be closer than ever.” Her smile, her words did nothing to ease her father’s ire or her mother’s unease.

“A baby… that’s what will bring you and Liam closer together. You need to get yourself with child, flood his house with your offspring and he will not have time to think about straying. You aren’t barren, are you?”

Marilyn gasped, shocked by Saxby’s blunt question.

I wouldn’t have had to take precautions yesterday, if I were barren, Daddy. Yesterday…hmm… not an unpleasant memory in Dru’s mind.

“Druscilla, have you heard a word I’ve said?” Saxby demanded.

Dru smiled, attempting to defuse the situation. “Oh, Daddy, you’re worrying for nothing.” Dru crossed the room to embrace her father. “Liam will be in the Governor’s mansion within four years, and I will be by his side and in his bed.”

Saxby cupped Druscilla’s chin. “You must be strong, Druscilla. Liam is a prize many would like to own. But he’s ours.” His smile was as cold as Druscilla’s eyes. “He’s ours.”

“No, Father. He’s mine.” She tapped his chin with her nail, smiling as she pulled away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ethan knew without being told what had occurred at the Cavanaughs’ home.

Parker reeked of her, like ash clinging to your clothes. The unbidden image of them rolling around, rutting like animals sent a shudder through Ethan’s frame.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what she wanted?”

Ethan’s gaze rose from the papers he’d been reading to the younger man sprawled on his sofa. It was on the tip of his tongue to tell Parker there was no reason to be smug. Druscilla went through lovers the way most people went through toilet tissue.

“I assumed she wanted to finalize her plans. Or was there something else to the meeting?”

The majority of Parker’s features were shaded by his hands clasped in front of his face, so only his eyes were visible. “Mrs. Cavanaugh is an angry woman. I wouldn’t want to cross her on a darkened street corner. She’s the type to bring two guns to a knife fight.”

Ethan chortled. “You’re right. It wouldn’t be wise to underestimate her.” Ethan felt he should warn his young friend or was that fiend. Just because Druscilla allowed him between her legs, didn’t mean she wouldn’t slip a knife into his ribs. Oh, well, Ethan sighed, live and learn.

“She wants to kill her husband’s campaign manager and her ex’s lover.”

Ethan’s hand paused in the air. The papers held between his fingers forgotten. “What? Why for the love of god?”

Parker shrugged. The whys were not as important as the other stuff she wanted him to do. Frame the man who’d kept him out of prison. Kill two women he had nothing against. Nope, the whys weren’t important. “She wants them to suffer. They are happy, and she’s jealous.”

“Fuck. I thought she would have you attack the girl, rough her up a bit, maybe ransack her house, but murder! God, she’s a fucking homicidal bitch.”

Parker grinned, his tongue darted out from between his teeth. He could still taste her on his lips, feel the sting of her nails on his back and ass. She was bitch, but a damn fine lay.

“Please tell me you wore a wire.” Ethan shook his head. “Don’t bother. I know you didn’t. Pretty hard to hide a wire when you’re butt naked, isn’t it Mr. Parker?”

Parker pulled out his cigarettes, tapping the box on his knee. “I had to gain her trust. If she’d found the wire, we would have been out of business. And…I had to fuck her. It’s all a part of the act. She has to believe her cunt is so enticing that I’ll do anything for her to get to her.”

Edgar squared his shoulders, pining Parker with a hard look. “I’ve had her. I know what she can do to a man with those muscles. You will do anything to experience that again.” Ethan had to wonder. Was Parker the type of man who’d throw away his freedom for pussy? Would he throw in with Dru just to screw her on a regular basis? Ethan understood Dru’s allure and with her poised to move up another rung on the political ladder, she could offer more to Parker than Ethan could.

Parker held Ethan’s stare, time ticking by. Were Ethan’s suspicions raised? Did he suspect the alliance between Dru and himself? Well, Parker would have to divert suspicion if Dru’s plan was going to work. Parker slipped the carton back into his pocket.

“Look, this works out better for us. Bedroom confessions are always more credible. They’ll know she trusted me enough to bed me, and therefore, she told me the truth.”

Ethan remained silent, continuing to size Parker up. Finally, after what seemed like hours to Parker, he sighed and sat down behind his desk. “You’d better hope so. If not, it’s our asses in a sling. Okay, as soon as you get the evidence on tape we’ll go to the police. Did she give you a time frame for the murders?”

“Nope. She’s more concerned about the election coming up. She doesn’t want anything to distract from her husband’s campaign.”

Ethan’s head bobbed as he closed his eyes in concentration. “That figures. Dru wouldn’t do anything that would take away from her big night, and I do mean hers. This isn’t so much about Liam being elected as Dru being crowned. Okay, so that gives us a few days to get things set up with the authorities.”

“I’m meeting her tonight. I’ll get her talking about the murders again.” After a drill her into the bed.

“You do that.” Ethan snickered knowingly. “Dru loves to brag about her conquest, both in bed and in business. She’ll talk.”

Parker fished a fag out of his pack, grinning around the tip of it. “Everything going to plan, Ethan. You’ll get your revenge and Druscilla will get what she deserves.” And, silently he added, I’ll get what I deserve.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dru viewed the photos with the eye of a professional.

She was gorgeous, of course.

Ethan had a nice body for an older man.

The knots he tied looked so much more painful on a glossy 8X10 than they actually were.

“It’s time my pretties for you to leave your home and go out into the world.” Dru slid the last of the photos into the envelope, sealing it with glue. It wouldn’t do for her errand boy to open these and put his grubby hands on the photos. No need to give the police a leg up on their future investigation.

Dru looked out her window at the building housing Barton Investigations. She knew the lazy fuck would be in his office. It was after all two o’clock on a Saturday afternoon.

There was no knock on the door to announce her presence. Phillip Barton didn’t even have time to get his gun out of his holster. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw who it was.

There were no formalities either. “I need this package taken to FedEx.”

Phillip Barton pushed his incredible bulk away from the desk, regarding his former client.

“Thought I wasn’t qualified enough to wipe dog shit off your shoes.” Grubby hands grabbed a half-eaten 5th Avenue bar, taking great pleasure in the look of disgust that crossed her face.

Dru eyed the vinyl covering of the chair, inspecting it for any stains that might not come out with regular dry cleaning. Finding none, she sat, leveling Phillip with a smal smile, the first he’d ever seen grace her face.

“You have your uses, Mr. Barton. If I didn’t think you were capable, I wouldn’t have come to you.” She left off that he was virtually forgettable. No one would remember who had delivered the package, making the job of backtracking much harder.

“Why can’t you take it yourself? I’m a busy man. I’m not an errand boy.”

Dru rolled her eyes. “We’ll play this however you want. I came to you because of our past relationship. I can easily find someone willing to make a quick half grand.”

Fire engine red nails scooped up the small box of pictures and strode for the door. Druscilla knew even before she stood up that Phillip Barton wouldn’t let easy money walk out the door.

“Wait…wait! Don’t be like that. Ol’ Phil was just kidding.” Moving faster than Druscilla thought possible, Barton was at the door, blocking her exit. “Anything you ask, I’ll do for you. You know that.”

Dru eyed him for a second before handing him the box and the envelope. “It needs to be there by Monday. Don’t fail me. You won’t like the consequences, Mr. Barton.”

----------------

TBC.....

Girls like me don’t have knights in shining armor. We don’t get the good guys. They help us and then head back to their princesses. So why is he still here?

Harmony pinched herself to make sure she was really awake, that the vision in front of her was real. Yep, he’s real. He’s here. The “he” in question scratched his crotch as he rolled over onto his side. Harmony couldn’t help but grin. He was so cute. She reached out to brush her fingers lightly over Riley’s shoulder. He reminded her of one of Norman Rockwell’s subjects. Iowa farm boy who helps out on the family farm, works at a soda shop in the afternoons. What the hell was he doing with her?

She was still having a hard time swallowing that statement, even though, Riley had repeated it several times throughout the night. Granted, most of those were when he was in the throes of passion, but that first time, they’d been outside the club.

Harmony grimaced at the remembrance. God, she wanted to punch him. How could he be so damn sure of his feelings? Why was he so clear when she wasn’t? And really, why should she trust him when not three months ago he was in love with someone else?

The little voice in her head screamed that it was about time she trusted somebody.

“Fuck.”

“Again?” Riley asked sleepily. He smiled, and Harmony felt the ice melt a little bit more around her heart. “Good morning.”

“Morning. I didn’t mean to wake you.” That was no lie. If she could have delayed this talk till later, she would have.

Riley shrugged. “You didn’t.” He pulled her close, till their heads were touching. “I usually hit the beach about this time.” He looked over her shoulder at the still darkened sky.

“But not today?” Harmony didn’t know why his answer was important. The guy had professed his growing love, but knowing whether or not he chose surfing over her mattered.

“Not today. Gonna spend today in bed with my girl.” Unlike those Sundays spent with Buffy, he didn’t care if the surf was up. He didn’t feel this need to be up and out of her bed before she awakened. He wasn’t trying to knock Buffy. Riley chalked it up to wisdom and retrospection. They didn’t satisfy each other. Oh, there were orgasms, but not bone-deep satisfaction to the point that they slept soundly, deeply. It was trivial, he knew, but telling.

Harmony’s eyes were open and searching for deception in his eyes, but she found none. He was telling her the truth. He’d told her the truth the night before. Now, she could be the dumb blonde everyone thought her to be or she could be the woman she knew she was and have faith in this strange, new thing between them.

A smile, the first of many she was sure, graced her face. “Good. I kinda wanted to spend the day with my guy.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Las Vegas was nice with its bright, sparkling lights and casinos, but rolling down the highway with the windows down, a great CD playing in the background, and the love of her life beside her was priceless. Or was it precious? Hmm…she wasn’t sure, but search for a word synonymous with happiness in the dictionary, and you pretty much had her mindset.

“I wish this weekend didn’t have to end.”

Spike turned his head slightly, his lips quirked into a smile. “Don’t tell me you didn’t get your fill of one-arm slots and blackjack? Because we did all that and then some.”

Buffy’s stomach jolted at the memory of what the “then some” had entailed. This weekend had proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that her boyfriend had the imagination of a porn star. Buffy wouldn’t admit that to him, though, she figured her gasps and screams of “oh, Jesus, Spike” were enough encouragement.

“Well, there are things I don’t plan on getting my fill of anytime soon.” Buffy raked her nails, lightly down the arch of Spike’s earlobe. Spike pressed into her touch, like a cat getting his stomach scratched. If California ever placed “driving while your girlfriend plays with your hair” on the licensing test, he would pass with flying colors.

“Tomorrow’s Monday”, she huffed, screwing up her mouth, “and the start of my new job taking pictures of Angel and Crazy Dru for the paper.”

Spike winced. Damn, that was right. He supposed he should feel bad. If he and Buffy hadn’t hooked up again, she would be treating this assignment like any other. It was a job, and the people didn’t matter. She wouldn’t have any idea about his past with Dru and Angel. She wouldn't have any reason to dislike them or hate them. Because of him, she did. Oh, well, he’d never be labeled a martyr.

“Want me to write you a note? Say you can’t make it due to a severe allergy to snobby, insane women and their spouses?”

Buffy grinned. Typical Spike response.

“No, thank you. I’ll go. No way am I going to let your bitchy ex keep me from a job. Just wish there was some spell or something that could make her more pleasant.” Buffy hopped in her seat. “Do you think they have something like that at the Farmer’s Market?”

“In cream or pill form?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mayonnaise. Cucumber. Hmm…moving on. Lettuce. Tomatoes. Moldy cheese. Eggs.

Faith curled her lip up in disgust. She couldn’t convince a mouse to stay for the night, much less a man. Faith stumped her feet, frustrated. Somehow food had become a third partner in their dance. To move to the next step, they…no, she needed to create a dish that would show Lorne she was ready to jump ahead to the third date.

*Third date is the turning point in most relationship. It’s the time that’ll make it okay to have sex.

So what did one make for a “come fuck me” dinner? Faith crossed her arms over her chest, trying to run through her limited repertoire of recipes. She wasn’t the world’s best cook by any stretch of the imagination, but she could whip up a nice meal or two. The thing was Lorne wasn’t Richard. It hadn’t mattered to him what she did, only that she did them quickly so they could get to bed. They had special moments, but nothing along the lines of dating. She was the other woman, the mistress. Her existence, their relationship was kept in the shadows. Secret meetings in hotels, his office, her apartment were the norm. She felt dirty after each and every “incident”. But now, she finally felt clean.

She snickered to herself. Clean enough to eat off of, hopefully.

Well, if she had to go the market, she might as well have company.

“Hey, I need someone to push my cart.” Faith remarked, immediately upon hearing Lorne’s dulcet tones filled her ears.

“Then I’m your man.”

Faith leaned over onto the counter, smiling into the phone. “Oh, really. Hmm? Well, what does that entail? Being my man?”

Lorne had a vivid imagination and a collection of movies. The possibilities were endless. “I think that question is best left for tonight, don’t you?”

Faith laughed. A husky, spine-tingling, make your cock stand up and take notice laugh that had Lorne salivating like Pavlov’s dog.

“Chicken. May be you’ll be able to find your courage by the time I get there.”

Saucy wench was on the tip of Lorne’s tongue. “Hmm…maybe.”

One minute after he hung up with Faith, Lorne was on the phone with his bitches.

“Help! She wants to cook for me.”

Willow winced as Lorne’s voice reached levels only achieved by eunuchs and pre-pubescent boys. “Lorne, tone down the Liza Minnelli. Okay?”

“Okay.” Lorne said, taking several deep breaths. “Faith wants to cook dinner. What if she sucks?”

“Isn’t that the goal of the evening?” Willow asked cheekily. Tara draped her body over Willow’s back, listening to the conversation.

“Umm…I…I’m not sure. I’m ready.”

“You always are.”

“But…” Lorne drawled. “I’m not sure if she is. She flirts and teases like nobody’s business, but what if that’s all she’s ready for?”

“Have you asked her?” Tara piped in.

Lorne was used to his girls tag teaming him on the phone, so he wasn’t surprised by Tara’s sudden appearance.

“I’ve always trusted my instincts.”

Tara had to kiss Willow quickly to keep her from voicing rather loudly their shared opinion on Lorne’s instincts. If they didn’t know what a terrific man he was, they’d go by that adage “slugs attract slugs”.

“Honey…could you go with something else. What’s your heart telling you?”

As one, Tara and Willow leaned on the counter and waited and waited.

“To ask you two.”

“We need to clarify some points, okay.” Willow held onto the phone while Tara went to get the relationship pad. Each one of them had one, though Tara and Willow used theirs to draw up different positions to put Xander in. Tara held up Lorne’s and sat at the kitchen table.

“Okay…” Willow began. “How many times have you kissed?”

“Want me to quantify?”

“Yes. Pecks, lips, tongue, teeth.”

Lorne sat at his kitchen table, legs crossed. He rolled the movie of his time with Faith. It was a pretty good romantic comedy if he did say so himself.

“7, 15, 5, 2”

Willow repeated the numbers to Tara, who began to calculate using the Troika system for Fuckability.

“67.” Willow reported. Well, see when you put it pen to paper, it removed all doubt.

“So, it’s a go.” Lorne felt good about this. The TSF had never failed them before. They’d failed the TSF with the people they’d used it on. Riley came to mind. So did Lisa and Kelly and Simone.

“I really have bad taste in women, don’t I?” Lorne said miserably.

Tara nodded. “Oh, baby, it’s not you. It’s your dick.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Richard wasn’t a stalker. He had treated his fair share of obsessive individuals, and he wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t like them. He was only looking out for Faith’s best interests. Richard laid the long lens of the camera on his shoulder, resting his chin on top of it. He only wanted to protect her.

He snapped a few meaningless pictures of the seascape to blend into the crowd, but his eye was always on the couple strolling side by side through the open market. He tried to stay far enough away to not be noticed, but close enough that he’d be able to watch Faith.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you think my waistline will survive this dinner?” Lorne quipped, peering over Faith’s shoulder as she whisked eggs and flour in a bowl.

Faith cast an admiring look over shoulder. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on his body, and if he did gain a little, he’d still be delectable. “Believe me when I say, no. The Greek Isles are populated with millions of people who’ve managed to keep trim eating these very foods. A strong, healthy American such as yourself can survive one night of Saganaki and Kourabiethes. ”

“You really think so?” Lorne asked, his breath a warm brush on her shoulders. He stood behind her, his body trapping her against the countertop. “Say that again. I like the way your tongue rolls.”

Jelly, here I come. Faith was grateful for the easy accessibility of the counter. She could grip it without embarrassing herself. Faith leaned the mixer against the edge of the bowl, and turned around. All her good parts were pressed in all the right places against Lorne’s good parts. Faith licked her lips, eliciting a barely perceptible shudder from Lorne.

“S-a-g-a-n-a-k-i is a dish made with mussels or shrimp simmered in white wine. K-o-u-a-b-i-e-t-h-e-s are Greek butter cookies.”

Lorne had to call on restraint he hadn’t had since his first lay. The way her lips looked, all ruby red and glistening, as she mouthed each syllable. God, he was surprised his pants hadn’t split from the pressure his cock was exerting. Faith had to feel how her words had affected him. She had to know how much he wanted her.

Faith wanted to squeal with glee. Who knew just saying the words would accomplish more than the actual food. What the hell was going to happen once he ate? Would they even make it out of the dining room?

“Sounds heavenly.” Lorne whispered, kissing her softly on the lips.

Deep breath. Deep breath. Down horny frog. Down.

“It is.” Faith answered, taking the coward’s way by sliding to the side, away from the tempting morsel hidden beneath Lorne’s shorts. “In Grecian culture, food is another way of expressing ourselves. Love, hate, lust, greed, any emotion can be sensed in the foods we create. From the first bite to the last, you’ll taste our souls.”

Of course, Lorne could see her in his mind, dressed in robes of the softest hue, gold cording wrapped around her body, emphasizing every dip and curve. He was there, too, dressed in loincloth, feeding grapes to his dark goddess.

“So tell me, Faith, what message should I get from sag..sag..a..saganaki?”

Faith kissed him because he was too cute trying to sound out the word. “I’m exotic. The cookies say handle me with care.”

Lorne returned the kiss. “Don’t worry, m’dear. I will.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hearing her voice on the other end of the line was the last thing he would have ever expected. The last time they’d spoken, William had been only a few hours old. Her tone had been clipped and uncaring, wanting to be rid of the tiny little bundle.

“Hello? Rupert?”

Giles shook his head, clearing it of the memories. “Yes, Sandrine.”

A small laugh, uncomfortable in face of the silence that greeted his acknowledgement. “It’s been a long time.”

Well, yes, it has. Last time we spoke you basically spat on our newborn son. He refrained from saying it hadn’t been long enough. “What can I do for you?”

On the other end, a sandy-haired middle aged woman, the lines on her face making her seem older than her years, twisted the cord around her pinkie. “I…I…saw William’s book. He’s become quite the author.”

Giles slammed his fist against the countertop, startling Anya and Joyce, who were having tea. Anya rose, as best she could with her burgeoning belly, and waddled over to where he stood. Her eyes sought his, questioning him without words. His only reply was to reach for her hand. She readily gave it, hoping it would be enough.

“Sandrine…you’ll forgive me if your sudden interest in William’s affairs strikes me as false. So please, what do you hope to accomplish with this call?”

“To get to know my son.”

Time seemed to stand still as the words rolled around inside Giles’ head. Sandrine wanted to know her son. Was she talking about William or her other child because there was no way she meant HIS son? She had no right to know him. She gave him up, willingly and with malice of thought. She pushed his beautiful boy away as if he were some dead animal. No! His mind and heart rebelled. She had no son as far as he was concerned.

“Rupert? Rupert?” Sandrine’s voice was like a gong being pounded repeatedly, and it all was too much. He’d never considered her wanting to come back into their lives, and if she did, Giles felt he’d be better prepared to handle her intrusion. He and William would have had time to talk about Sandrine, how her rejection of both of them had shaped their lives. But there was no warning for this, and Giles felt bile rising up quickly in his throat.

“She’s still squawking Giles.” Anya’s smile was soft and comforting. He didn’t have to decide right now, and he wouldn’t. William had a right to make this decision, not him.

“Sandrine, I… It’s difficult for me to talk to you and think rationally, especially where it concerns my son.” The words were no more than a whisper, but their effect was immediate as Giles took in Sandrine’s sharp intake of breath. “I can’t promise you anything. It’ll be solely up to William if he wants to speak with you.”

Sandrine sigh of relief was soft, almost inaudible in the darkening shadows of her sitting room. At least, he’d heard her out. She’d expected him to hang up or to rail at her.

“I understand.”

“No, I doubt you do or you wouldn’t be calling.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thirty minutes after the call and Giles was still staring at the phone. Anya, for once, had no words of wisdom, no truths that could take away the sting of having Sandrine reappear in their lives. She ran her hand lightly over Giles’ face, smiling when he gave in and leaned heavily into her touch. It was a small gesture on her part, not reaching the level of protectiveness and love she was feeling. If anything, she wanted to wrap him up in her arms, shielding him from Sandrine and the hurt she was going to bring. Same with Spike. They were her family, and she wanted to protect them.

“I know I won’t lose him. She can’t touch what I’ve built with William.” Giles brokenly told her. “But she has never in 28 years attempted to see him, to know him, and it has hurt him, whether he wants to admit it or not. I can’t stand by and allow her to wound him with her selfishness.”

“He’s strong, Rupert. You raised him to be strong and noble, and he will handle this like he does everything else. He survived Dru, and she nearly destroyed him.”

Giles shook his head. “Sandrine has more power over him.”

Anya shook her head. “Why because she birthed him? No, my amazing husband. You’ve been his everything for his entire life. Spike loves you, and nothing she says or do will ever change that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He wasn’t an artist. He didn’t have the talent to capture the essence of a person and place it on a canvas. He wasn’t a singer or a poet. He couldn’t compose words to describe the beauty of her face, the smooth expanse of her neck. His fingers itched to touch her. His lips wanted to devour her.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?” Angel inquired innocently, giving in to the urge to touch her. His fingers trailed down her arm, writing A’s and D’s in her pliant skin. Darla watched fascinated. She should tell him to stop, remind him that he was married, but that was ridiculous. She’d allowed him to kiss her. Only the ringing of the phones and the chatter of the office staff stopped Angel from clearing the table in a dramatic, sweeping motion.

“This isn’t real.” Darla murmured. “You and me, this.” She said as she looked around their cozy surroundings. The fireplace crackled while the local jazz station played softly in the background. “We’re just playing house. You’re still married and not to me.”

Angel’s hand stilled its motion. “Do you doubt my feelings?”

The irises of Darla’s eyes were wide, and Angel felt as if he were swimming in the ocean of her emotions. He could see everything. Saw her fear, her desire, her hope, and her confusion.

Darla shrugged. “Your feelings. My feelings. In the greater scheme of your life, do they really matter?” Darla took Angel’s hands in hers. “After Tuesday, you’ll be one step closer to the Governorship. One step closer. Are you really willing to risk all of it for me?”

Darla held her breath, wanting the answer, but also fearing it. If Angel chose his career, she couldn’t fault him. He had worked hard to overcome people’s preconceived notions that he was nothing more than a pretty boy candidate. Liam Cavanaugh was respected. If Liam’s name was linked to a scandalous affair and a messy divorce, all that hard work would be down the drain. If Angel chose his political future, Darla would step away. She wasn’t a martyr in the best sense, but she had her pride. She wouldn’t pine away for a man, wasting the good years of her life.

“Are you listening to a word I’m saying, Darla?”

She blushed. “Sorry. Look, this…us can wait until after the election. You hired me to win you an election, and that’s what I’m going to do.”

“But…” His words were silenced by a slender finger pressed to his lips.

“No, buts, Angel. I… This is for the best. For both of us.”

Angel sagged beneath her stony, resolve. She asked the question, but then didn’t want the answer. He almost laughed out loud at the ridiculousness of this situation. He finally wasn’t thinking entirely with his dick, and the woman responsible for that was afraid he’d choose his career over her. Typical. His luck with woman while extremely successful in the sack, sucked in the lasting emotion department.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How do you plan on getting them to the office?”

Parker adjusted the volume on the computer, wanting to make sure the recording was crystal clear.

“We won’t have to get Darla there. I may hate the bitch, but she’s dedicated to Liam’s campaign. She’s a trooper.” Dru rolled her eyes. “Little Miss Goody Two Shoes Summers will be harder to manipulate. Any ideas?”

Parker leaned back in his leather chair, his hands clasped behind his neck. “We’re already contemplating her murder. So why not add kidnapping to our list of crimes?” Dru’s demented giggles could be heard loudly through the phone and registered quite nicely on the mp3.

“True. In for a penny, in for a pound. Or something inane like that.” Dru placed the tip of the letter opener between her teeth. “One problem, though. William never strays from his pet.”

“You’re a resourceful woman. Reach back into your past and figure out a way to get your former lover out of the picture.”

“I will. Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Mr. Parker? You needn’t be. William wouldn’t sleep with me if the fate of the world depended on it.” Which was really a shame, in Dru’s opinion. William, while annoying and cloying, was an excellent fuck. What she couldn’t teach him, he knew by instinct.

Parker snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself, Mrs. Cavanaugh. One pussy is the same as another. Just depends on how well it’s been used. Now, can we get back to business?”

Dru frowned. She knew he was lying. She had been fucking since her late teens. There was no way she wasn’t skilled enough to make a man blow like a bottle of warm champagne.

“Torture, maim, rape, if that’s your thing, the bitches, then you’ll kill them. Make sure it’s particularly ghastly. Not only will it bring in the sympathy votes, but it’ll hurt William and Liam. Now, what else do you need to know? I will take care of Ethan. I will make sure he kills himself and bears the stain of our misdeeds for the rest of his life. Any questions?”

Parker wished he would have had the foresight to install a camera in Dru’s bedroom. That last speech would be so much better with video.

“How are we going to get the pics from Buffy’s house?” Parker had a checklist of things that needed to be addressed before this operation got underway.

“We won’t. I’m going to leave the originals along with the negatives at Ethan’s. The police have to find them there in order to draw a connection with the Campaign murders. What do you think of the name? I’m thinking of calling in to the newspaper and coining that phrase.” Dru clapped with glee. Oh, god, she was getting wet just thinking of the mayhem she was about to wreck on the lives of the foursome she loved to hate.

“What about the gun? Ethan keeps it locked up.” Parker was just guessing, as Rayne had never drawn it on him.

“You’re worrying too much.” Dru sighed. “Ethan’s murder will scream suicide. Don’t worry. We’re untouchable.”

Parker smirked as the last bit was recorded. Yeah, untouchable. “Fine. Business is done. Wanna fuck?”

It always came down to the pussy, didn’t it? “Can’t. I’m meeting my husband and Darla in a bit, but I’ll be free later when Liam leaves for his meeting. You can come by then.”

“I see you then, Mrs. Cavanaugh, and Dru… don’t wear clothes. They’ll only delay me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Who approved that little blonde gnat for a media pass?”

For the first time in ever, Darla was actually very happy to have Dru barging into one of their strategy sessions.

“Who?” She asked, plucking the paper out of Dru’s hands. She scanned the list, immediately recognizing the names of the photographers and writers who regularly shadowed them. She heard the tap of Dru’s shoes on the tile, and purposely slowed down her perusal. Let the bitch wait.

“Are you blind? It’s William’s little cur, Biffy Summers.” Of course, Dru had put in the call to the Bee to get Buffy assigned to their campaign, knowing Buffy couldn’t turn down an opportunity such as this.

“Her name is Buffy, and she’s not a cur, Dru.” Angel didn’t like this at all. Dru and Buffy within 50 feet of the other. This had all the hallmark of a cat fight without the mud. The election was in less than 48 hours, and he’d have to split his attention between making sure Dru didn’t go for Buffy’s jugular and pushing his message. Tomorrow was shaping out to be a terrific, headache-filled day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Home sweet home.” Buffy dropped her purse onto the floor, intent on burrowing into the warmth of the sofa ASAP. “Check the messages, Spike.”

Spike nodded, dropping their bags beside her purse. He leaned over the counter, pressing the play button on the answering machine. He peered around the door to see one shapely leg in the air, and the flight of one sandal as it flew across the room to bang against the wall.

“Next time one of them decides to elope, we’re flying first class. My ass is sore from that ride, and not in a good way either.”

Buffy barely held onto the sofa. “Honey, you know that sounds slashy, right? Never really figured you for a bottom.”

“Keep talking like that love and we’ll see if you like being a bottom.”

Buffy rose up on her elbows. Hazel green eyes, shadowed by dark brows, stared at her lover. Early on, when they were trying to test their boundaries of stamina and flexibility, they’d discuss what she would and wouldn’t do. Anal sex was definitely in the no can do section, but the way his eyes gleamed with desire, almost made a return to that discussion probable.

Buffy’s mouth opened, but Spike didn’t get to hear what she had to say as the phone rang, interrupting what he knew would have been an interesting comment.

“Damn Alexander Graham Bell.” Spike snatched up the phone, grumbling under his breath. He turned away from Buffy’s amused giggles and fetching legs.

“Hello.”

“William, you’re home. Good.” Or not. Giles wasn’t sure. This wasn’t a conversation he actually wanted to have with him.

“Yeah, we just got in. I was going to call.” Spike flipped through the few pieces of mail they’d gotten, trying to will down his erection. Nothing like mail and talking to one’s parental to do the job efficiently and effectively.

Giles held Anya’s hand tightly. “I know, but I was wondering if you and Buffy had any plans for this evening. I wanted to stop by.”

Spike frowned. Though, there was nothing strange or unusual about his father’s request, Spike felt there was something off.

“Is everything okay?” Spike waited, worried it was the baby or Gram.

“Yes. Everyone is fine. Something has come up that I need to speak with you about.” How long did he have before Sandrine called William? Would waiting a day hurt? Was she desperate enough to approach William without his assistance? God, he would go gray trying to suss out that woman’s motives. “I can come over in about a hour. How’s that sound?”

“Fine. Are you sure everything’s okay? I can come over there.”

“No…Will, I promise you it’s nothing that can’t wait for you to unwind after your trip. Trust me Will.”

“Always, Dad.” Spike smiled. It was true. He never doubted his father, and he wouldn’t start now. “We’ll see you in an hour.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She hadn’t set out to eavesdrop on their conversation. There was no need. Spike didn’t keep secrets for her, and vice versa. But her jar of Shea butter had fallen out of her bag and rolled to the bedroom door. Spike’s voice raised and angry drifted down the short hall, and Buffy automatically stepped closer.

“Your mother called. She wants to speak to you.”

“Why? She hasn’t wanted to speak to me in nearly 30 years.” Spike shouted, aware that his anger wasn’t directed at his father, but at the woman who didn’t feel he was worthy of her love.

Buffy pressed her body against the wall, wanting desperately to go to him.

Giles watched, silent as Spike paced furiously in front of him. Giles held his glasses loosely between his fingers, wishing he’d taken William up on his offer of a glass of malted Scotch. He needed something to fortify him. They both did.

“Will…talk to me.”

Spike paused at the softly voiced request. “I…I don’t know what to say, Dad. I don’t know if I care enough to speak to her.” Spike didn’t feel twenty-eight. He felt younger, smaller, facing the cruel taunts of his classmates. He never told his father the things that were said to him. He never wanted him to know just how much he hated going to school after Mother’s Day because everyone looked at him and whispered “William’s mother didn’t want him. That’s what my mum said”. So he kept it secret because he didn’t want his dad to hurt like he did.

“Come sit down, son.” Giles scooted over, patting the seat next to him. He wasn’t sure what to do. He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to take Will in his arm and hold him like he did when he was little. Instead, Giles rested his hand on Spike’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to do anything. You don’t have to speak with her. It’s entirely up to you.”

Buffy slid to the floor, uncaring if she was discovered.

Spike laughed till tears slid down his cheeks. “Fuck if this isn’t ironic.” Spike winced as he looked over at Giles. He rarely cursed in front of his father, and still felt like a kid when he did. “Sorry, Da.”

Giles laughed as well. “I believe your words were appropriate in this case.”

“I wrote a chapter about her.” Spike wiped his eyes, peering over at the computer on his desk. “Finally figured out what attracted me to Dru and every other woman I’ve ever dated, except Buffy.”

Giles shifted so he could give Spike his full attention, somewhat heartened by Spike’s reaction. He’d expected some anger, mostly pain, but once again Spike surprised him. His son was stronger than he gave him credit for. Giles was happy to be proven wrong.

“I’ve figured it out. Why I fell in love with Dru.” Spike was staring ahead, not really seeing anything, wishing he didn’t have to dredge up this, but knowing he had to, if only for his own peace of mind.

Buffy pulled her legs under her butt, turning to face the living room.

“She reminded me of my mother. Not looks-wise I’m assuming, but the coldness, the lack of real affection. To me, Dru was an exact replica of my mother, and I desperately wanted to her to love me. I would have done anything to have Dru love me. If Dru hadn’t staged that show and tell with Angel, I would have stayed with her until I rotted away.”

Buffy couldn’t hold back the sob that choked her. Oh, god. She felt ill.

“I was in a dark place, Dad, and Buffy pulled me out of my own hell. I would have found the next Dru, the next Sandrine if she hadn’t come into my life.”

Giles gave into the urge to hug Spike. Right now, it didn’t matter that his son was an adult.

“Will, why didn’t you ever tell me? If I had known…”

Spike clung to his father’s arm, holding him tightly. “Didn’t want you to know. Didn’t think there was anything wrong with me. Not until…”

Buffy cried tears for little William and for the man she loved. Some part of her wanted to hate Spike’s mother, the other part wanted to thank her for setting him on the path that led to her. God, she was selfish, but she loved him so much.

Giles smiled in spite of the tears. “Buffy is a good woman.” What more could he say. He’d been Buffy’s fan since that night three years ago. She had restored the light in his son’s soul that had diminished during Dru’s reign of terror. Buffy had given William hope, and for that Giles would be forever in her debt.

“Dad…you’re choking me.”

Spike snorted and so did Giles. They looked at each other with eyes swimming with tears, but a smile to their faces. “I’m so very proud of you. You’ve turned into a wonderful man.”

“I had a good teacher.”

Giles pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and dabbed at his eyes. “I’m gonna head home. Take as much time as you need to decide, Will. There’s no rush, and… to be honest, she’s waited this long, a few days longer won’t hurt.”

Spike took the proffered handkerchief. “No, it won’t.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy waited inside, watching from the doorway as the Giles’ men said goodbye. Spike watched the car back out of the drive and pull away. He didn’t move. He stared into the darkness.

Finally, her patience, which wasn’t much to begin with, wore out. Plain and simple, she needed to comfort him.

A sigh slipped from Spike’s lips as Buffy slipped her arm around his waist.

“Hey.”

Buffy leaned her head against Spike’s chest. “Hey.”

“Thanks.”

Buffy smiled. “You’re welcome.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy twisted her hair into a knot, sticking a pair of chopsticks within the bun to secure. And also for protection, her mind quipped.

“Spike, tell me again why I’m doing this?” She asked as she walked into their kitchen. She came up short, not only at the wonderful view of Spike’s pale butt, but also at the various foods spread out over the countertop.

“Honey, it’s a little early for all that, don’t you think?”

Spike stood up, and it was all Buffy could do not to jump him.

Why couldn’t he be holding something nasty? Nope, not my guy, he’s got a jar of mustard, and all I can think about is smearing that on his hotdog and going to town.

“See something you like?” Spike asked as he placed the jar on the counter.

“Umm…” Yes, I see your nipples covered in jelly. Buffy had to avert her eyes. Concentrate Summers. Concentrate. When the image popped into her head of her lips wrapped around Spike’s cock, Buffy’s mind admonished the rogue part of her brain that worked in conjunction with her crotch to keep her panting after Spike like a little Schnauzer.

Spike rolled an orange on the counter. “Yeah, I know, it’s a hard choice.” He admitted, total unaware of his girlfriend’s carnal thoughts.

Get your mind out of the gutter, Buffy.

“It is, and why are you making this choice this early in the morning?” Buffy risked her sanity and her professional reputation to press her clothed body up close to Spike’s naked one.

Spike ducked his head, smiling shyly. “Wanted to make you lunch. Fix you something in case you don’t get a chance to eat.”

“Thank you. That’s so sweet.” Buffy leaned over, taking a look at the items laid out for her perusal. “Well, a sandwich would get soggy, so how about an orange, some of the trail mix we made the other night, carrots, and broccoli. That way I’ll get all the food groups or at least a good representation of them. Oh, and a bottle of water and breathmints.”

Spike grinned, happy to do this small thing for the woman he loved. After last night, he was her slave. “Your wish is my command.”

He smiled as he kissed her. He pulled several Ziploc bags out of the box and began to assemble her lunch. Buffy grabbed a yogurt and spoon, and leaned against the sink to watch him work. Hell, he even made doing something simple, like fixing lunch, sexy.

“So what are your plans for today?” Buffy swirled her spoon in the yogurt to mix in the fruit.

Spike shrugged. “Not much. Gonna stop in to see my dad. Work through another 2 chapters. Try to slip in a rehearsal with the band. Nothing much.”

Buffy mouth dropped open. She rolled her eyes as she dropped her spoon back into the cup. “Is that all? Oh, the glamorous life of a rock and roll author or an author rocker?” Buffy quipped.

“Well, it’s not all puppies and roses, luv. It is actually hard work.”

Buffy nodded. “I can see that.” She winked, reaching out to caress the skin below his navel.

“Buffy, it’s getting late.” Spike grabbed her hand, pulling her closer. He ducked his head, gazing at her. “Don’t go anywhere with Dru alone and make damn sure you stay out of her arm reach.” He really didn’t want her to go, and it had nothing to do with Dru.

Buffy leaned back, utterly amazed by the processes going on under that dome of blonde curls.

“Okay, lesson the first: Not Scared of Dru. She should be afraid of me. Lesson the second: There’s a lot of pent-up aggression built up in this body of mine. I could take her.”

Spike’s dark brow arched. Damn…Talk like that got him hot. Too bad they didn’t have the time for a quickie. Fuck. Well, that was counterproductive. “Gonna fight her for me, Pet.”

Buffy leaned in till her nose was grazing his collarbone. “Nah. I’m gonna beat her ass because I can.”

Oh, yeah… cold shower here I come.

Buffy grabbed his ears, dragging his mouth to hers. She was bruising with her kiss. “Okay, I’m all juiced up. And that didn’t sound right. I’m out of here. Have a good day, babe.”

Spike jumped as she copped a quick feel of his butt, winking at him mischievously as she grabbed her lunch bag and camera case. At the door, she turned back.

“Love you, William Giles.”

Spike crossed his arms over his chest. “Love you, Buffy Summers.”

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TBC...

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