Chapter 31:

Dru walked from one end of the bed to the other, studying the outfits laid out before her. Today was a very important day, not only for Liam, but also for herself. Whatever she chose needed to be versatile. The pale rose pantsuit would travel well, but the deep burgundy skirt had a lovely slit up the side that would attract and keep attention. But… she needed the ease of movement the pants gave her. Parker would probably need her help with Buffy and Darla. For all his strength and steely exterior, he was a man. He might let those fake blondes sway him into letting them go. She couldn’t allow that. She wouldn’t allow that. If she had to slit his throat as well, she’d do it. Tonight, she was going to have her revenge on all of them. They would pay for daring to… Dru paused as the voices inside her head screamed at her. She couldn’t tell what they were saying, what they wanted.

“Stop it!” She screamed. And they did stop, allowing Dru the opportunity to take a deep breath, just how Dr. Morgan had instructed her.

“Whenever you feel pressured, excuse yourself and find a nice, quiet place and breath deeply. Don’t concentrate on anything else, but calming yourself.”

“Mrs. Cavanaugh, is everything all right?” Dru’s head spun so fast towards the source of the question, she vaguely resembled Linda Blair in the Exorcist, minus the green goo. Maria jumped back at the wild-eyed look on her employer’s face, crossing herself before she had time to think about it.

“Maria, I’ve asked you not to come into my bedroom without knocking first. What part of that did you not understand?” Dru rubbed her neck, feeling a twinge in the muscles. Oh, great, she was going to have to visit her chiropractor. When would she find the time between the funerals and the interviews? She’d just have to make time. Taking care of oneself was very important.

“I apologize Mrs. Cavanaugh.” Maria had been in Dru’s employ long enough to know how to placate her extremely unstable mistress. “I should have knocked louder.” She quipped, though, she doubted Dru would have heard her over her own ramblings.

Dru was pacified for the moment. “Well, was there anything in particular you wanted?”

Maria started. “Yes. Mr. Cavanaugh wanted to let you know the car will be here in fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you, Maria. Tell Mr. Cavanaugh, I’ll be down shortly.”

Maria paused in the doorway as Dru asked if Darla was downstairs.

“She is, Mrs. Cavanaugh. She’s been here for awhile.” Maria ducked her head, lest Dru catch the smirk on her face. It was common knowledge among the staff that Ms. Hanson and Mrs. Cavanaugh were not on friendly terms. There was even a pool going about when the shit would hit the fan between the two.

“Thank you, Maria that’ll be all.” Dru kept her back to the maid and picked up the pink slacks. She’d have to be careful not to get blood on these. She wasn’t entirely happy with her dry cleaners’ work.

“Yes, ma’am.” Knowing nothing further was required of her, Maria hurried out, closing the door quietly behind her.

Thought the she-devil was meeting us at the school. Dru thought, angrily shoving her legs into the pants. Or maybe that’s just what Liam wanted her to think.

“Come for a little quickie?” She asked to no one in particular. If she had, Dru might allow it, since it would be Darla’s last chance to get some dick.

She shook her head at the thought. “Not in my house, bitch.”

Faith turned under the showerhead, rinsing her hair under the stream of warm water. A sigh escaped her lips. A sigh that quickly turned to a moan as her thighs protested that small movement. She smiled. Her mind going back three hours to Lorne kissing her goodbye. He had to be at work early for a meeting, and didn’t want to risk missing it. Faith had been too sleepy, too sated to do more than mmm into his mouth. She should have protested, insisting he stay for the usual morning after routine, but they were adults and while that was cute, she didn’t need it.

Faith stretched her arms above her head, aroused by the warmth of the water, the heat of her memories. She felt renewed. Who knew a good, sound fuck was all she needed to feel better about herself. Even as that thought passed through her mind, the analytical part of her brain was piping up with a “hey now”. It was wrong to categorize Lorne like that. What they’d done last night and early this morning was more than fucking. It was an intimate act between two people involved with one another. That’s right, people. I’ve got a boyfriend.

Taking the towel in hand, she patted her hair, deciding to let it air dry. The urge to call up Lee and squeal was stamped down. If she didn’t get her butt in gear, she was going to miss her nine o’clock. The sight of a police car stopped outside drew her attention to the partially opened window. They’d slept with the window open, the breeze a welcomed relief and addition to their nocturnal excursion.

Water rained down onto her shoulder as she cocked her head to the side to fluff it dry. Her mind was preoccupied with Lorne and work, but a part of her brain still functioned, and it recognized the man and the car parked dangerously close to her home.

“Oh god.” Her hand covered her mouth, silencing the scream that lay on the tip of her tongue.

Richard. Parked directly outside her bedroom window.

If she could see him clearly, he could see just as well inside her bedroom. Oh, god, she was going to be sick. How long had he been watching her? She felt violated, exposed as she stumbled back, tripping over the edge of her bed. She sat, sprawled on her butt, scared shitless.

She debated calling the condo association and alerting them to his presence, to ensure the cops would be called each and every time he pulled a stunt like this. There was nothing to stop her from alerting the authorities, nothing except a healthy dose of guilt.

Though, as she sat there, a well of fury rose up in her breast, stamping out the revulsion she previously felt. How long was she meant to suffer for her mistake? How long was Richard going to hold her to a promise made when she thought herself in love with him?

She heard the muffled jingle of Beethoven’s 5th Symphony and smiled. She picked herself up, grab her robe, knotting it tightly and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Hey.”

“Hello, gorgeous. Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah, I did. Wish you’d been here to scrub my back, though.” She put as much of a pout in her words as possible. Thoughts of what was going on outside the confines of her home were nearly forgotten. Shoved away to the farthest corner of her mind until she could bear to examine them.

“Don’t tempt me.” Lorne leaned back in his chair, propping his feet on the desk. The shine from his shoes gave him the opportunity to check out his smile and hair, two of his weapons in the fight against mediocrity.

“Just finished a god-awful meeting, and all I could think about was you. I was crazy to leave you this morning.”

Faith nodded because she was thinking the exact same thing. “They’ll be other mornings.”

“Oh, most definitely. My new addiction is you, Dr. Morgan. Want a checkup tonight?”

“Yes.” Desperately. She thought. I want to lose myself in your scent, your touch.

“Good. Why don’t we try my place tonight? I’ll do the cooking, and then we’ll see how the evening progresses.” Although, she couldn’t see it, Lorne waggled his eyebrows. He figured if he was going to be seductive over the phone, Faith deserved the full treatment. Lorne leaned forward as the husky sound of her laughter captured his attention. That, and he saw his archenemies strolling towards his open door. Damnit.

“I’ve got to run, but I have another break around lunch. I’ll ring you up then, Sweetcheeks.”

The endearment was totally inappropriate for a woman her age and profession, or so some would say, but it left her feeling cherished, and she needed that. Needed Lorne’s pure and lustful affection to push away what was becoming increasing obvious: Richard’s sick obsession.

“Catch ya, later. Lorne?” She asked breathlessly.

“Yes.”

“Last night was wonderful.”

Lorne grinned, not only out of supreme male pride, but also because he could completely relate to what she was feeling. “I can honestly say you rocked my world.

Faith felt a warm flush wash over her body. “Thanks.”

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

Spike sighed, rolling his eyes as he felt Cordy’s on him.

“Cordelia.” Blue eyes gazed lazily at her.

Cordelia groaned, caught up in his amused stare. “Sorry. Sorry. Ignore me.” She said, flushing. She wasn’t sorry, though. She was turning into her mother.

“Pet, I’m fine.” He said, linking his fingers with hers. “Not going to wilt away. Not going to hole up in the basement of the high school and rant and rave like a crazy loon.”

“I know.” She agreed, running her fingers through his hair. For a man who swore he wasn’t channeling Ryan Seacrest, he had the best hair. “Okay,” she said, standing up, “if you’re going for the stoic English demeanor, I’m going to start making calls. The festival isn’t going to organize itself.”

“Do you still want Ghost to play a set or two?”

Cordy leaned against the bar, regarding Spike. “Are you sure you still have a band?”

From the look on Spike’s face, he didn’t.

“What have you heard?” Spike’s voice was soft and even, which was deceptive, because Cordy could see the tenseness in his hands.

“Well,” Cordy said, not wanting to betray the rest of the band. They’d come to her not only as their de facto manager, but also as a friend. “You’ve got a lot going on in your life, Spike. When you started the band that whole disaster with Dru had just happened, you were branching out into your writing. Things were different. I just wonder if it’s still the outlet you need.”

 Cordy resisted laughing when she saw his eyebrow arch into his hairline. Bingo. Knew he was pissed.

“You were wondering or the guys were? I haven’t missed a practice. I’m still writing songs. What more do they want me to do?” What was he feeling? Offended for one. Guilty for another.

“Hey, you are not allowed to get pissy. This is me. The one who can read you like an open book. Besides, Buffy, of course.” She conceded, shaking her head. “You’re here with the band, but your heart, your soul is with Buffy and your family and the book and everything else that goes on in William world. And that’s okay. The guys understand. They aren’t angry. They just want to know if you want to continue. In end the decision is yours.” She placed a soft kiss to his forehead and walked off leaving a pensive Spike to ponder his next life choice alone.

Angel glared as Dru laid her head on his shoulder. He desperately wanted to shove her away, but she was in some kind of touchy-feely zone. The photogs were gone, yet she continued to cling to him like a blood-sucking leech.

“What in the hell is wrong with you?” Angel whispered harshly in her ear. “Why are you all on me?”

Dru reached up, placing her hand on his cheek. How she wanted to rake her nails down his face, blooding him. “I’m doing all of this for you, Liam. The least you can do is play along. If we’re going to convince people we’re the perfect couple, we have to start with our own staff.” Though she was speaking to Angel, the comment was definitely directed at Darla. Especially when her black eyes glared harshly at the blonde.

“They’ll go out and spread the word. You know how family oriented the party is. So smile nicely. Don’t worry, your little bitch will still want you with my scent on you.” With that said, she grabbed him and pulled his lips hard on hers. She bit his lip, nearly drawing blood before pushing him back. The force wasn’t enough to stagger Angel, but his eyes did burn, but not in lust as they once would have for Dru.

“I hope you got what you wanted from that little display, Dru. Because if you ever do anything like that to me in public…”

“You’ll what, Angel? You’ll do what? Hit me? Spank me? Swear at me? You’ll do nothing, Liam. You’ll play along because that is what’s expected.” He wants to kill me. Dru mused. She could see it in his eyes. If they were alone, she’d be dead. Or at least one of them would be. She wasn’t as easy to get rid of as he thought.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She wondered absently, as she stepped away from him, her blood boiling with a mixture of lust and hate, what pissed him off more? The fact she touched him and he reacted or that his beloved Darla saw it? Didn’t matter. If blood could still rush to his cock for her, she’d use it to her advantage.

Darla had watched and felt her stomach churn. They were a striking couple, dark and dangerous. She could feel, could sense the emotion between them. She coughed delicately.

“Excuse me, Angel, you have a call from the Governor.”

Angel started, surprised by her appearance. He hoped she didn’t witness what had occurred, but from the way she avoided his eyes, she knew she had. Fuck.

“Darla, a word please.” Dru called after her. She motioned for her to follow, knowing it would irritate Darla to no end.

Darla wanted to tell Dru to shove it where the sun don’t shine, but she didn’t. In front of the press, Dru was to be treated with respect and deference. Darla wouldn’t make waves, not now. Not when they were so close to being out of each other’s lives.

“Yes, Mrs. Cavanaugh.”

Dru examined her nails. In her mind, she could see Darla, her blonde hair streaked with congealed blood, lying motionless on the floor. The thought of what was to come cheered her. Soon, Darla would know who was the boss.

“What is it, Dru?” Darla asked impatiently.

Dru held her tongue. She’d give her that one. Isn’t that what they did to the condemned? Gave them their hearts’ desire before they killed them.

“Liam and I have been invited to dinner at my parents’ club. We won’t be able to assist you with the phone roundtable. I assume you’ll be able to handle it on your own? That is why we’re paying you so much? For your… skills?”

Darla tilted her head, wondering why she didn’t put her fist through Dru’s face. Not worth it. She had to remind herself. Not worth it. You’ve got Angel’s heart. She’s only got his name.

“Yes, you are paying me quite a bit for my skills. They are second to none.” She resisted the urge to kiss Dru Teresa Russell/Black Widow-style.

It cost Dru to keep her joy hidden. “You’re absolutely right. I shouldn’t doubt your dedication to my husband. That dedication will take you places.” Dru wagged her finger in Darla’s face. “Oh, the places you’ll go.”

Darla stumbled as dread gut punched her. What had Dru done? She knew that look of satisfaction. It spoke volumes. The last time she’d seen it, Buffy Summers’ studio had been vandalized. Frightened for the woman, Darla scanned the thinning crowd for her. Darla spotted her, calmly packing up her.

“Is there a problem?” Angel asked, coming up behind her.

Darla smiled, then caught herself. People were watching. There’d be time enough for them later. “No. Just Dru being Dru. She’s up to something, so be careful. If she tells you, she’s pregnant, don’t believe it.”

Angel rested his hand lightly on her back, needing the contact with her to get him through the rest of the day. “I wouldn’t put it past her to spin a tale. I’ll be on guard.”

Darla nodded, stepping away when the warmth of his hand threatened to shatter her shaky control on her emotions. Their morning kiss, grope for better word, was still fresh in her mind, on her body. His words afterwards were cloistered securely in her heart, where they would remain until she could take them out and revel in them.

“She told me about the dinner tonight. Not exactly the best time for a family get-together, but”, she said, seeing the rebuttal in Angel’s eyes, “it’s important. The Hayes are influential.”

“Saxby snaps his fingers and off we run.” There was no bitterness. There were things one had to do to succeed, and he’d do it. Even if his heart burned to continue what had occurred in the library. “

“Let’s wrap this up and head on to the factory. We’ve been lucky so far with Dru and Buffy. Let’s not tempt fate.”

At the moment, Dru was not on Buffy’s radar. Tara and Lorne were.

“Tara… calm down. I’m sure there’s a very good reason he didn’t call and give you a blow by blow account of last night.” Buffy juggled the phone and her bags, cursing the fact she’d left her earpiece on the front seat.

Tara shook her head, tsking softly into the receiver. “Buffy, this is Lorne. He didn’t call to say anything. Last we heard he was going over there for dinner. I called him this morning and he brushed me off. Me? I’m only the girl who gave him his first hummer in the backseat of his daddy’s Buick. The least he could do would be to share the details with me.”

“When did Willow leave?” Buffy asked. She knew Tara’s horny babble, and this wasn’t it. This was “my soulmate is gone and I’m having to sleep alone. Or with Xander in Tara’s case.

“This morning on the red eye. She won’t be back until Wednesday. I hate this. I fucking hate this.” Tara was near to tears, which was not only a by-product of Willow’s absence, but also PMS if the calendar was correct. “And don’t you dare tell me she’ll be home soon.”

“Isn’t that what you told me when Spike was on tour?” Buffy teased lightly.

Tara snickered. “Bitch. I’m in pain and you’re throwing my words back in my face.” There was no heat to her words.

“Yeah, yeah… but it got you to stop moping.” Buffy parried back.

“That it did.” Tara sniffed. “Sigh… I hate when she goes away.”

“I know.” The memory of that first separation from Spike still smarted. Here she thought she was independence girl, and four days without him, without being able to lay her hands and eyes on him, and she was ready for the nut house.

"So, do you need me to come over tonight and snuggle?" Buffy asked, grinning.

"No, I have Xander. He's quite handy for stuff like that."

"Good. I need to be home for Spike tonight."

"As opposed to any other night?" Tara quipped, tying a bow around the bouquet she was working on.

"Yeah, he's having some family issues. We'll talk okay. I've got to run."

Tara said goodbye, trying to shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. Her call had a two-fold purpose: To make sure Buffy was alright and to whine about Willow. Mission accomplished, she supposed.

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

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 

Darla felt a shiver race down her spine as Dru slid inside the car. She looked around as if searching for the answer to the riddle that was Dru’s good mood.

“Something wrong?” Angel asked, his eyes searching the same expanse and coming up lacking.

Darla shook her, feeling foolish for jumping to conclusions, for letting Dru rattle her. “Nope. Just thinking.”

“About us, I hope.” Angel whispered, grinning cheekily at her as she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, about us winning this campaign.” Darla replied, laughing as she stepped inside.

I’ll have the last laugh tonight. Dru happily mused as the door slammed, shutting the three into the black stretch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 

Spike leaned back, enjoying the nicotine filling his lungs. He didn’t advocate smoking, but to those nicotine-addicted like himself, this was a tiny slice of nirvana.

Of course, Buffy was going to scalp his balls for puffing up in the house, but he figured he was allowed a little leeway with what was going on in his life.

“Hello.” He said, blowing rings out as he did.

“If I ever tell you I want to go the news route, just pinch me because I’m obviously dreaming.” Buffy held the phone up to her ear with one hand and shoved her camera bags into the storage with the other.

“Pinch Buffy’s bum. Check.” Spike grinned into the phone as Buffy’s laughed.

“You have a one track mind, Mr. Giles.”

“I’ve been deprived of seeing your delicious body for over 10 hours, luv, give a bloke a break. All I can think of is you and me and the birds and the bees.”

Buffy felt her breath catch. Yummy thoughts, especially after the long day that she’d had. Witnessing first hand the disaster that was the Cavanaughs’ marriage was painful, even for someone who desperately wished ill on both of them for hurting Spike.

“I’ve got one more stop to make, then I’m all yours. And I mean all yours. I’ll see you in… 45 minutes. Hopefully less if I do an end run around Perry’s mouth. That didn’t sound good, did it?”

Spike chuckled. “No, it didn’t, but I know my tongue’s the only one tasting you, Ms. Summers.”

“Yes, it is, and if you’re lucky, and me too, then you’ll be tasting me in less than an hour. So bye!” Buffy knew she was blushing, but hey.. her guy was a master cunnilingus and it had been 30 days since they’d played.

“Buffy…wait.”

Buffy paused in the process of closing the door. “Okay, but the longer you keep me on the phone, the longer it’ll be before you have Buffy Cream Pie.”

Spike smirked. “I believe you’re open for business most days of the week, luv. I…I’m not in the best of moods. Just wanted to warn you.”

“Well, you’ve seen me PMS, and haven’t gone running for the hills. I’ll take you no matter your mood, so no warnings are necessary.” Buffy nibbled her lip, waiting.

Spike chuckled. Yeah, Buffy and PMS was not pretty, but he’d survived. His heart did the usual flippity flop whenever he thought of Buffy. “I love you.”

Buffy was caught off guard by the declaration, but didn’t hesitate to tell him the same. “Me too.”

Chapter 32:

A stakeout was a necessary evil as an agent. New agents cut their teeth on them, until they were allowed out in the field.  As Special Agent Diggler shifted in her seat, resisting the urge to take out her gun and ventilate their surveillance van, she cursed being assigned a partner who didn’t know the proper usage of deodorant. Like wearing it. Like rubbing it under and over his armpits to kill the stench that was currently emanating from his body. Eau de funk was not the new trendy cologne.

“Can you believe this shit? Some pathetic bitch decides to off her husband’s mistress and we’re brought into this.”

Ali gritted her teeth. On principle, she hated the word bitch, especially when uttered from the lips of a misogynist pig like Wexler.

“Wexler, explain something to me?” Turning her head slightly in his direction, she asked. “With your crummy attitude and obnoxious body odor, how much do you spend on hookers a year?”

At his shocked look, Ali smirked. “Don’t speculate on the perp’s motives. Just do your job and collect the evidence to convict Mrs. Cavanaugh, hereafter never to be referred to again as the bitch.”

What she wouldn’t give to have Adam working with her on this case, but that was a non-option since he was currently assigned to the New York office. All of this needed to be wrapped up by the time they were scheduled to leave for Hawaii . Nothing and no one was standing between her and Adam and miles of white beaches.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Wexler groused.

Ali saw him out of the corner of her eye, sniffing his armpits. When he didn’t scrunch up his nose in disgust, she knew it was a lost cause.

“Wexler, I shouldn’t have to explain this to you, but I will. I’m a woman, and the word offends me.” Lifting the binoculars, she focused on the tall, dark woman chatting on her cell phone at the front window.

Thankfully, Wexler was silent, concentrating on the recording equipment.

“Subject is talking to a Mrs. Marilyn Hayes at 4:53 pm .”

“Her mother,” Ali muttered. “They’re supposed to have diner tonight.”

“Yeah… The mother is asking why can’t they have a simple dinner at home, and Mrs. Cavanaugh told her they needed the exposure.”

Ali nodded. “I bet. Establishes her alibi for the first murders.” She picked up the file containing information on the two potential victims, Buffy Summers and Darla Hansen. What was it about them that fostered such hatred in Drucilla Cavanaugh? Part of her job was figuring out motive, and jealousy was a ridiculous reason to kill someone, though she’d known perps to kill for less.

“What time are they scheduled for dinner?”

“Umm…” Wexler flipped through his notes. “Six-thirty. No, seven o’clock . Representative Cavanaugh insisted on it. Says he can’t get away from the office before six-thirty.”

“Doesn’t give us much time to set this thing up properly.” She grumbled. She was worried. If their sting was exposed before the trap was sprung, Drusilla Cavanaugh would escape prosecution. No jury would convict her on the flimsy evidence they’d collected so far. And it wasn’t as if Parker Abrahams was a choir boy. More like the devil in disguise.

Ali slammed her fist against the dash, startling Wexler.

“What’s your problem?” He demanded.

“My problem is this woman.” She slammed a surveillance photo of Drusilla down on his work station. “She won’t stop until she sees them dead. If we screw up, she’ll just bide her time until the opportunity presents itself to hurt them. She’ll make them pay for surviving her first attempt.”

Wexler’s eyes flickered down to the photo. Diggler might have been a frigid bitch, but she had the uncanny ability to get into the criminal mind. If she said it wouldn’t end here, he was inclined to believe her.

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

 Watching Buffy charm their FedEx driver, Julian, Spike felt a sense of calm steal over him. Something he hadn’t felt since she walked out the door earlier that morning. What he had with his dad didn’t compare to what he had with Buffy. He loved them both unconditionally, but Buffy was his center. There was no other way to describe the peace he felt in her presence. Of course, right now, he was feeling anything but peace. Blood was racing from his cock to his brain and back down again. She was fifty feet away and yet, the hairs on his arms were on edge as if he were in a stream of electricity.  Rubbing his hand under his chin, he watched as she turned away from Julian, pinning him with a look.

 “Hey, you.”

 “Tell me something, Ms. Summers. Is the thrill gone?”

 Buffy stopped just short of the door, her lips quirked into a grin. “You’ll have to be more specific, Mr. Giles. Which thrill would that be?” The irises of those green pools narrowed as she took in the man that epitomized walking sin. Long, pale feet poked out from beneath jeans tight enough to outline lean thighs and that thing…that thing that made her soar and scream and shudder and…Why in the hell was she standing so far away when they could be exercising their right to orgasm?

 “Just wondering,” Spike drawled, his voice dropping to the strip me naked tone, “if the thrill is gone in our sex life? When was the last time we had sex up against a wall?” Blue eyes gazed from beneath black lashes. The eyes of an angel and the libido of the devil intent on deflowering an innocent virgin.

 For a moment, she was amused. Or enthralled, as there was nothing sexier than Spike sans shirt, sans socks and shoes, leaning against the doorjamb of their house. Damn… he even had chemistry with wood paneling.

 When her head cleared of the walking pheromone that was Spike, she giggled, tossing her head back as she did. This highlighted her long, tanned neck. His mouth watered to taste her pulse, tracing the thrumming artery as it coursed blood through her body.

 “It hasn’t been that long.” The midnight blue of his eyes gave her the answer to that question. “I’m guessing it’s been awhile.” She said, sauntering up to stand within inches of him. “Though to be honest, you’re quite greedy.” She could feel the heat off his chest, could smell the masculine musk that was all him, and could see love and the lust that was all hers.

 “Greedy?” Spike asked, his hand brushing aside the open collar of her shirt. “You wound me, luv. Care to explain your observation.”

 Buffy swallowed past the lump in her throat. His touch was nothing more than a whisper on her skin, but it felt as if she were standing on the edge of an active volcano. Everything was hot. She looked down stupidly at her hands, which held the partially open envelope. Spike plucked it from her grasp, flinging it through the open door into the foyer. Neither noticed the pictures that slid out of it, fanning out on the carpet.

 “Better?” He asked, leaning down to place a kiss on her collarbone.

 “Yes.” Buffy said with conviction. “You’re greedy because if I’m not mistaken sex was had in Las Vegas . We have sex 20 days out of 30 in a month. That’s more than most people get. That’s a lot of sex.” She reiterated. 

 “I remember. Don’t tell me you don’t?” Somewhere in there was a challenge to her sexuality, and Spike knew he’d have to tiptoe around that landmine if he had any intention of being buried deep inside her quim within the next ten minutes.

Spike chuckled, gracing Buffy with the Head Tilt. The movement designed to turn her to butter. “Fishing for compliments, Buffy. That’s so unlike you.”

“I’m waiting.” She said with conviction.

 “I remember everything. I remember you riding me. Your quim so tight and wet and hot that I thought I’d melt. I remember,” he said, his arms encircling her waist, “us in that huge shower, water sluicing down your body, pelting my head as I ate your clitty. I have a very good memory. A very good,” his hands were kneading her ass, “memory.”

Buffy’s eyes widened as she felt her thong sliding between her lips, aided by the moisture that was soaking the material. “Well, let me add to your memories.”

 For someone so tiny, she could move pretty fast. One second he was entranced by those hazel eyes, and the next, he had an armful of Buffy. They were probably giving the neighbors quite the show, but trying to control the overwhelming tsunami was impossible. And Spike chose at the moment to roll with the punches, so to speak. Though, speaking wasn’t on the menu at the moment since Buffy’s tongue was presently darting and paring with his and her hands, god, her hands were all over him, tugging at his jeans, pinching at his nipples. Spike could feel everything, Buffy’s heartbeat, her hot breath, and he was going to come if she didn’t take her hands off his cock and were those her fingers sliding along the crevice of his ass? She’s an octopus. That was the only explanation, and he was not complaining. He had a choice. He could let her drive him to the brink of insanity or he could get his woman naked. Hmm… what’s a guy to do?

Spike pushed off from the door, surprising Buffy when he pushed her up and over his shoulder.

“What is this?” She grumbled. “You Tarzan, Me Jane?”

_________

“I’m worried about Drusilla and Liam, Saxby.” Marilyn turned from her vanity, the brush in her hand, forgotten.

“You shouldn’t. They are fine.” He dismissed her concerns as easily as he dismissed most things about his wife. After 35 years of marriage, she was merely window dressing. His feelings were more affectionate, than loving, tolerant of her timidity, but in no means passionate about her. She was Marilyn. She knew her place, her duty, and their lives had been good.

Marilyn bit her lip, knowing what that tone of voice meant. Her opinion wasn’t wanted nor considered very important. There were times when she wondered why she’d stayed. After Dru was born and no sons were forthcoming, Saxby had turned cold…colder and any love she might have felt for him died a swift and painful death.

Marilyn shook off the morose feelings, knowing Saxby wouldn’t change in their waning years together. But regardless of that, she would not abandon her daughter.  Dru’s mental problems rendered her dangerous, not only to herself, but to others, and with the dissolution of her marriage, Marilyn feared what was to come.

“Saxby, they are not fine. They are seeing a marriage counselor. Liam is talking divorce. You know what happened the last time…”

“Don’t. Say. Another. Word.” Saxby advanced on Marilyn, gripping her wrist tightly. “She’s been cured. Richard saw to that. Liam will not divorce Drucilla. He needs her. He needs her status, her beauty, my connections to get him to Sacramento . And Dru will never allow him to leave her. She’s not a weakling.” He released her arm, striding angrily out their bedroom.

Marilyn bit back tears, rubbing ineffectively at the red marks on her wrist. 

________

Thank goodness, she hadn’t eaten. Thank goodness, they didn’t live in a huge house. With stairs. While caveman gestures like this usually got her panties twisted and wet, her stomach wasn’t exactly enjoying the jostling.

“Spike…honey, are we almost there?” Eyes closed tightly, hands gripping what she could. Ooh, ass of Spike.

Her answer was in the form of the mattress hitting her backside as Spike upended her on it. Buffy took a moment for the nausea to recede and the horny lustfulness to return before opening her eyes. Spike was leaning over her, his eyes bright and mischievous. He was propped up, one hand tracing circles on her belly, fingers dipping ever so slightly into the waistband of her jeans.

“You’re beautiful.” He murmured, burying his nose in her hair. “I never tire of looking at you.”

Buffy sighed, her voice taking on a husky tone. “Well, I should hope not because we’ve got many, many years left together, Mr. Giles.”

Years. Decades. A lifetime. And as was uncomfortably becoming habit of late, he wondered if he’d be able to keep her. Would they burn out like all fires do from lack of oxygen? From the moment they met, they were gas to flame. White hot in intensity, burning each other from inside out, branding their skin with each others’ mark. Was that enough? Would she leave? Would he, when their passion waned?

“Do you think so?” He voiced his question softly, lost within the waves of her hair, but she heard him.  Heard the vulnerability, the uncertainty, and for the second time that day wished his mother ill will. Buffy rolled, till their positions mirrored, each on their sides.

“Yes, I do.” Her fingers stroked his brow, lingering in the hollow of his cheekbone, parting his lips. “I believe in us.”

“I do too. Don’t…” She laid her fingers to his lips, knowingly.

“I love you, Spike. That’s never going to change.”

He desperately wanted her to understand, but was afraid she’d take offense. Hell, he didn’t understand himself why he was bringing this up. Did he or did he not have everything he wanted? He had a career he loved, family and friends who loved and respected him. He had the girl of his dreams beside him every night. So why now? Why the doubt? Why did he feel as if the rug was about to be snatched out from under him? Because love, heat, passion fades and people are left behind.

“Tell me.” She implored, pushing him until he lay on his back. She straddled him, her head resting on his heart.

He fish gaped, trying to find the courage to say what he wanted to say, afraid of what Buffy would think, afraid of what she would feel about his words.

“There are no guarantees in life Buffy. You’ve got to admit. It’s been 6 months of glorious, mindboggling sex. I want you. All the time, in every way. And I know you feel the same way.”

A slight bob and squeeze to his stomach was the only response he got.

“I just don’t want us to forget where we came from.”

Buffy rose up, her arms on either side of him. “You’re worried it’ll all fade away once we stop screwing 20 times a week.”

While Spike’s heart was racing a mile a minute, Buffy’s eyes held a wisdom that was rare in someone her age.

Buffy leaned forward, her head coming to rest lightly against his. He didn’t know. How could he when his parents were over before they started. But she’d been witnessed to a couple whose life had changed through the years, but the love was still as fierce as the day they first met. Sandrine’s reappearance in his life must have been like a blast of cold water, shocking Spike, awakening long forgotten doubts and fears.

“When you were gone,” her voice warbled slightly, but she recovered, “all I had was the memory of your touch. We might have never seen each other again, but here,” and she pressed her fingertips to his temple, “and here,” she touched his heart, “we were connected. That doesn’t fade with time. Not something this strong, this pure.”

She smiled, her eyes wise and clear. “Orgasms are nice. But if I didn’t get my daily-recommended allowance of 5 a day, I would still be here. Because even if we aren't at a full boil, a nice low simmer is still hot.”

Embarrassed, she buried her face in Spike’s neck. “Well, that was lame. I want to slap myself.”

Spike agreed. “Sometimes the dorkiest things come out of your mouth when talking about love and relationships.”

Buffy’s head shot up. “Are you calling me a dork?”

One eyebrow raise and the quirking of his beautiful mouth confirmed he had indeed called her a dork. “Did I say that out loud?” He queried, barely suppressing a grin. “Well, Buffy, darling, I guess you’ll just have to spank me.”

“Hmm….now, that’s an idea.” She sighed, huskily, wiggling her sweet parts against his.

The inflection in her voice had Spike’s curiosity piqued. “Yeah?”

She shook her head, smiling as she brought her lips to his. Slow and easy, like ice cream melting on a summer day. The sweetness of the kiss belied the wicked thoughts in her mind.  

“Yeah… I think you need to be taught a lesson.” Her eyes widened as his fingers gripped her hips, forcing his erection up into the crease of her jeans.

“What lesson?” His voice had dropped an octave and the irises of his eyes had narrowed into tiny pinpricks in a sea of blue.

She made a production of leaning forward, her hands braced on either side of his face. Her breath, when she spoke, fanned over his skin, enflaming every inch it caressed. “That a simmer can be just as much fun as the boil.”

“Sounds as if my girl has some ideas. Do tell.”

Buffy smiled, pleased with his easy acquiescence. “You love my hands, what they do to you,” scooting back, so her hand could slide inside his open fly of his jeans,  “how they stroke you,” his cock jumped against the palm of her hand, hot and eager to rub against her skin,  “hold you,” fingers wrapped around his penis,  grip you,” a squeeze and he was arching off the bed,  “scratch you,” her thumb nail catching the head of his cock, a drop of precum sliding down her thumb. Watching, seeing the effect her words, her hand had him, made her crotch ache. It would be so easy to wrap her lips around his cock, take what she wanted, but there was a lesson to be learned here, and she was putting on her teaching cap. So she removed her hand and placed it back near his head, ignoring the startled jump of Spike’s hips.

He wanted to protest, wanted to scream his frustration, but his tongue was as thick and swollen as his cock. He couldn’t speak, so enraptured by Buffy’s voice and her hand. She had him under a spell, and he’d be damned if he’d let his mouth break it.

She kissed him, her teeth feasting on his lips, her tongue salving the sting. She thoroughly ravished his mouth, but her hands never left the bed, something that jiggled at the back of Spike’s mind, but he paid it no mind. How could he when his head was buzzing from Buffy’s taste? 

“Do you want me?” She asked, breathlessly. “Do you want me?” She whispered again.

“Always.” His hips rose off the bed, grinding, seeking the heat between her legs. 

 “From only a kiss?”

 Spike nodded, though his brain was having a hard time catching up to her meaning. “Kissing is good.”

 “Kissing is good.” She repeated, lowering her mouth to his chest. “And so is this.” Her tongue flickered out, pressing wet and hot onto his shirt. Tentative strokes soaked the thin material, puckering the tiny nub below it.

 She could hear him moaning above her as she switched to the other side. His nipples once she was finished were hard, little pebbles. Spike was squirming. His hips striving for friction through the layers of denim. So she gave it to him. Sitting up abruptly, shifting until her crotch was directly over the hard ridge of his cock. She gasped at the heat, the pressure. Looking up into his eyes, she felt her stomach clench painfully.

 “Buffy…” he pleaded, his hands latching onto her hips, pushing her harder into his erection.

 “But so is this.” And laid her head in the crook of his neck. “So is the quiet moments, when it’s just you and me and silence. Because we already have the deep, abiding love down pat, and sex…sex is the bonus.”

She pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, desperately willing her muscles to relax and her heart to slow its beating.

Spike’s brow furrowed, confused by the lack of anything that was going on. “What are we doing, Buffy?” They weren’t ripping their clothes off. There was no sucking on things that began with the letter “C”. So what were they doing?

“We’re… not having sex.” She said sheepishly.

She could have slapped paint on his face and called him Bozo, and he wouldn’t be as shocked or speechless as he was right now. “What? That’s it. You’re just going to…stop.”

Buffy scrambled off of him, adopting a prim and proper pose beside him. She studiously ignored the red and angry hue of his cock, poking out from the fly of his jeans like a ripe, cherry tomato. This was definitely going to hurt him, more than it would her, but they needed this. He needed this. He needed her to be the strong one, even if her panties were uncomfortably damp and her clit was throbbing like someone slipped a vibrating egg inside her cunny when she wasn’t looking.

She took a deep breath and faced the storm head on. “Yes. We’re going to stop. We’re going to lay here and I’ll tell you about my day and you’ll tell me about yours.” She smiled so wide and insanely, Spike feared the edges of her mouth would crack under the pressure.

Sitting up, acutely aware of his dick, he stared at the love of his life and the bearer of his recently acquired eunuch status.

“Buffy…luv. Sweetheart…why? I mean I know I brought up an awkward subject in the middle of foreplay, but it’s called foreplay, not stoppage of play.” He thought he was doing quite well considering the situation, but then Buffy had to go and do the pout coupled with the tongue between the teeth and Spike groaned and laid back down on the bed. His arm came up to shield his eyes and his nose from the eau de turned on Buffy.

“Well,” she said shyly, “it seemed like a good idea when it popped in my head.” Her fingers twisted in the hem of her shirt and she wouldn’t look at him. Only peeked at him beneath her lashes.

Another groan. Another grimace. One eye poked out from under his arm. “Bloody hell, woman, I believe you. I am as sure of your love as I am of the goodness of your heart, but deballing me is not the way to go to demonstrate true love forever.”

“I didn’t say it was one of my best.” She quipped, her entire body itching to close the distance between them.

Spike sighed, tucking her hair back behind her ear as he sat up. “Come here.” He ordered her. She closed the distance between them in mere nanoseconds.

He wasn't totally dense. Yes, technically his brain had worked its way south and was lounging somewhere between his belly button and his groin, but he knew and even understood what Buffy was doing. But tell his balls that Buffy's gesture was noble, and they'd scream back, she was misguided.

Cupping her face with his hands, he kissed her down onto her back. Once there, he nestled, gently between her thighs, hissing as the head of his cock bumped against Buffy’s crotch. He took a moment to study the woman laying beneath him. He could see the worry in her eyes. He could see her vulnerability and concern. He could see the lust that lay beneath all of that.  

"You're amazin'. You know that?" Shimming his hips. Loving the way Buffy inhaled, trying to keep her eyes on him and not give in to the desire that coursed through her system.

Buffy gulped and smiled. "Yeah?” Well, wasn’t she the literate one, but really, what could she say that hadn’t already been said a thousand times, maybe more in the last 5 months. She loved him. She needed him like the air she breathed. She’d never leave him. She wasn’t fickle like that. Not when it came to him. It stung a little, that he didn’t recognize her commitment, but after the women he’d had in his life, she couldn’t really fault him.

"You are. And… you're killing me." At his words, Buffy's eyes bulged and he could feel her body trembling under his.

"What?!"

"Blue may be for boys, but it doesn't go well with my balls. I need to be inside you."

Buffy’s jaw dropped open, and visions of those lips on his cock did wonderful things to his erection.

"But..." Buffy started, stopped, took a deep breath, tried to ignore the thing rubbing slowly and rhythmically against her denim covered clit. "I want you to know it isn't all about sex with us. I love yo..."

She didn't get out the last of her declaration as she was silenced by a set of full, demanding lips and a tongue scorching her mouth from the inside out. She felt weak, drained, and grateful to be on her back. Foreplay was important, but not necessarily the most important part of their relationship. Somedays all it took was rolling over at the same time in the mornings, bad breath be damned. But... now... god, she couldn't imagine separating long enough to actually get him inside of her. So she held on, grinding and shifting, creating friction and delighting and reveling in the gasps and moans coming from both of them.

"Don't let go." He whispered when breathing became crucial and they had to pull away. "Love the feel of you. Love the taste of you. Love you.” His head dropped to her neck, worshipping the tight sinew of muscles from her chin to her collarbone. His tongue dipped into the hollow of her throat, languishing there until he heard a whoosh of air spill from Buffy’s lips.

“You do that so good.” She commented, laughing as her lips took the same route down his neck. Her fingers slipped underneath his shirt to knead the muscles at the base of his neck. She couldn’t get close enough. But then would she ever be close enough to him? She shook her head no, rearing off the bed as her breast was engulfed within the moist heat of Spike’s mouth. His tongue and teeth battled to drive her insane as he did to her what she’d done to him earlier. Stroke, stroke, bite, bite, suckle, bite, stroke, stroke. It was a familiar feeling, yet familiarity didn’t lessen the effect it had on her body.

“Harder…harder.” Buffy groaned, her ankles coming up to lock behind his ass, her heel grazing his balls.

She didn’t have to ask him twice. His body wasn’t giving him any choice in the matter. Hell, Buffy wasn’t giving him any choice. Her hand and slipped down his back and into the gaping back of his jeans. Her hand had taken a firm grip on his cock, squeezing and stroking him in time to the pitch and roll of her hips. Her gasps and moans, the quickening of her breath as she nipped with teeth and bathed his skin with tongue. He’d rather have her naked, her tanned skin bathed in sweat, but this was the next best thing. The heat they were generating through their clothes was nearly as erotic, though, as the actual thing.

Buffy pushed hard against Spike’s hand, biting his bicep as she felt the zipper of her jeans lower. She tensed, waiting for the moment when she would feel those magic digits dance across her mound. It was an exquisite torture, one which Spike drew out, pushing her to the edge and beyond. His fingers teased the sparse hair, circling her clit, careful not to touch the tight bud hiding underneath. Buffy bit her lips to stifle her moan, her plea for him to touch it. It was in the brief moments when his fingers, his mouth hovered over her aching flesh, that Buffy embraced her masochistic side.

“Please…” she begged, twisting and shaking, her legs rubbing together. Spike grinned, devilishly, swallowing the tip of her tongue as it snaked out.

_____________

Everything with the Hayeses was proper. They ate at an appointed time. There were six courses and wines to match whatever was served. After which would follow dessert, coffee and cigars to round out the evening. Of course, the little women would be sent home so the men could discuss politics and the like. It made Angel want to hurl. On his list of favorite things to do, this one ranked at the bottom, only slightly above removing a wart from his ass and watching midget wrestling.

“Liam… Liam?” Marilyn Hayes’ smile was sincere.

“Sorry,” he said chagrined.

“That’s okay. I was just asking how you felt on the eve of the election.”

Angel reached out, patting Marilyn’s hand. It was unfathomable how someone as twisted as Dru and as cold as Saxby could have someone as sweet as Marian in their lives. 

“Good. Nervous.” Exasperated, but he didn’t say that. There was still a lot to be done, and this little family get-together was a waste of time.

“Hope you aren’t projecting that to the photos.” Saxby warned. He raised his glass in the air, signaling to their waiter his need for a refill. They had a semi-private dining room, which put them on display to the rest of the club. “Nothing a voter likes less than a wimpy leader.”

Angel resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Do not mistake my nerves for weakness. I just don’t feel the need to be cocky 24/7.”

“You’re a member of the majority party. You’re in power. You should be cocky.” Saxby leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “I don’t think you grasp what’s within reach, boy.”

If there was one thing guaranteed to piss Angel off, it was calling him boy. It was an insult, degrading him down to the level of a child. He felt Marilyn tense under his hand and knew she was warning him off. He looked into her eyes and saw her silent plea. He didn’t want to bow to her unspoken pressure. He wanted to tell his smug, arrogant bastard of a father-in-law exactly what he thought of him, but he didn’t. The brass ring was within his reach, and sooner, rather than later, he’d be rid of Saxby and Dru.

“I understand perfectly.”

Dru glanced at her watch. 7:45. Seventy-five minutes to go. Seventy-five minutes to go. The smile that crept onto her face was genuine as she could see herself standing amid a blood-strewn room with Darla and Buffy sprawled, lifeless at her feet. Where they belonged, beneath her. It was all so delicious. So very delicious. Unfortunately, time travel wasn’t possible, so here she sat between her husband and her father, watching as they brought out the measuring tape.

“Daddy, stop teasing Liam.” She admonished, laughingly. “You know full well victory is assured.”

Saxby took Dru’s hand in his, kissing her palm. “You’re absolutely right, beautiful. Daddy worries too much.”

Angel repressed a shudder, stomping down on the perverted thoughts that passed through his mind, that Dru and Saxby’s relationship was more affectionate than was legal. It was better not to dwell on such thoughts because they ultimately shined a spotlight onto his character and how he judged people.

“Liam, I’m sorry. Call me paranoid.”

There were a few choice words he could call Saxby in addition to paranoid.

“Family sticks together.” Saxby announced. “Through thick and thin, good times and bad. And the Hayes-Cavanaughs will survive this election and get back to the business of family. I want grandchildren.”

Well, stab me in the eye with a hot poker.  ”What?”

“Grandchildren. You know Marilyn and I aren’t getting any younger.” Angel saw Marilyn flinch and had to wonder what scared her more. Saxby or Dru procreating?

“I think that’s a terrific idea. Don’t you, Liam?” Dru was definitely the devil’s spawn. Angel was convinced of that. Lying to William, to him, to everyone about her true nature, trying to paint him into a corner with Dr. Morgan and now, with her parents.

“Actually, I don’t. Bringing a child into our lives at this moment would be the worse thing for that child and us. Besides, we’ve discussed this Dru.” His glare dared her to contradict him. “We’ll wait until I’m in the governor’s mansion before children. Makes for better press.” He added, knowing it was the expected bullshit line. He also knew this to be true. He wasn’t ready to be a parent to anybody’s child, not Darla’s, and especially not Dru’s.  

Saxby sat back, one hand drumming lazily on the table. “Damn, that’s good. Nothing draws numbers like babies, and my Dru will be beautiful pregnant.”

Dru blushed at the compliment, but she had no intention of ever getting pregnant. The body changes alone were enough to put her off the experience. Stretch marks on her pale skin? Hell no. Acne? Swollen tits? That was for some other silly female. No…when the time came, they’d adopt. It was all the rage in Hollywood these days. A way to give back, she thought surly. Yeah, right. It was a way to garner good press, and if they came to love the child, it was all the better. The more she thought about, the more she liked the idea. One of the biggest advantages would be her ability to choose the child. Maybe, she’d get a blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl to remind Angel daily of his lost love. A little
Darla she could mold in her own image. Wouldn’t that be absolutely delicious?

“Sugar and spice and everything nice.” Dru hummed.

Three sets of eyes looked at her blankly.  “That’s what little girls are made of.”

_________

Clothes were strewn all over the place. The bedside lamp was tilted over. The phone was teetering on the edge of the bedside table. Buffy vaguely remembered reaching blindly for it, and pushing it further away on a particularly hard thrust. 

“If that’s simmer, we have nothing to worry about.” She gasped.

Spike lifted his head, grinning smugly at Buffy. Her hair was a mess, wild and mussed. Her lips were swollen and pouty. Her skin glistened in the waning light of day, a sheen of sweat coating her from brow to toe.

Wow, he thought, wincing, blood could still flow into his cock. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing at this point in the evening.

He rolled over, slapping Buffy’s ass lightly. She shuddered, flinched, aroused him all over again. He shook his head ruefully at his groin, willing it to take pity on him.

Resist the flesh. Resist the flesh.

“I’m starved. What about you?”

Her arm moved, flipping the golden mane of hair out of her face. “Starved? I’m famished, but I don’t think I can move. Everything below my belly button is numb.” (LOL!) And it was all good, she thought, leaning closer to press her lips to his. Dry lips. Dry lips.

“And I’m thirsty.” She grumbled.

“Told you we should keep a mini-fridge in here. Would make post-coital dry mouth less of an issue.”

She was too tired to do more than snicker and sigh. “We have to eat. We need nourishment.” She pushed up on jelly-filled arms. She was nearly up when she flopped down inelegantly on the bed.

Spike snickered. Quite pleased with himself.  “Haven’t you had enough protein for today?”

“Daily recommended allowance and then some.” She quipped back. She rolled onto her side, much easier to gaze at him that way. Uh oh, she knew that look. The look that said he was ready to pounce on her in all sorts of good ways, but right now her coochie was going to have to take a backseat to her stomach. Its grumbling was trumping the electric shocks emanating from her clit at the raw lust he was projecting in her direction.

“Nope. Not gonna happen.” She shook her head, scooting away from him.

He tried to reign in the grin, but it was impossible. He reached out for her, grinning as Buffy batted at his questing fingers. She had the nerve to look affronted, as if she wasn’t blatantly telegraphing “fuck me” vibes. He was only a man with a dick and it was honing in on her signals.

“What?”

“You must feed me real food. Something gooey with cheese and garlic. Something of substance that didn’t come from your….” She waved her hand in the general direction of his crotch. And what a lovely crotch it was.

He could slather Cheese whiz and garlic salt on his chest if she absolutely had to have that combination, but there were limits he would go to please his girl, and artificial, processed cheese was one of them. “How does a large deep dish from Ipo’s sound? With everything, except mushrooms. Because mushrooms are fungi.”

She smiled, her teeth biting down lightly on her outstretched tongue. God, he could drown in that smile. “Perfect. Like you.”

Spike scooted closer to her. This time she didn’t back away. Funny what the prospect of food could do to a gal. Make her all complacent and touchable. His fingers circled around her bare back, running over the tiny bumps of her spine. Buffy tensed, anticipating what he’d do next. His grin was that of a wolf, sly and full of hidden motives. But he surprised and disappointed her when he grabbed the phone off the floor . Ipolito’s was on speed dial so without 30 seconds Maria’s cheerful voice rang out, greeting.

“Aww…just the beautiful woman I wanted to speak to.”

________

“I can’t believe we did this.” Buffy exasperated, pushing Spike out of the shower. “Again.”

Spike snickered, grabbing a towel as he hopped out of the bathroom.

“Maria’s going to know what we were doing.” Buffy shouted.

“Everyone’s going to know what we were doing. We called over an hour ago.” Spike teased, patting himself dry. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take all the blame.”

Spike grabbed up a clean pair of jeans and quickly zipped them up. A black and red Ramones t-shirt followed and he was ready to go. Except for one little thing.

Buffy shrieked as the curtain was shoved aside. “It is common knowledge, I’m irresistible.” Headless of the water splashing on him, Spike cupped his hand behind Buffy’s neck and pressed his mouth to hers. The kiss was all too brief, but it still curled Buffy’s toes.

“I’ll be back.”

”I’m counting on it.”

Spike was still chuckling when he walked into the kitchen. “Okay…keys…keys…where are my keys?” He checked at his desk, lifting his papers and in his laptop bag without success. He spied Buffy’s keys on the floor by her bag and FedEx envelope. He’d just take Buffy’s car. He stooped to pick up Buffy’s keyring, but was drawn instead to the photos that had slipped out of the envelope.

“Dru…What the fuck?”

He scooped the photos up, checking behind him to see if Buffy was out of the shower. He moved into the kitchen and laid out the photos. What he saw would have sickened him if the sight of Dru and Angel fucking hadn’t thickened his skin.

Flipping the envelope over, he tried to see the name on the shipping label, but whoever’d sent it had written lightly and it hadn’t gone through the carbon cleanly. What was clear was Buffy’s name. These were meant for Buffy, but why? Was it blackmail? And if it was, why would the sender involve them?

Spike’s head popped up as he heard the pipes groan as Buffy’s turned off the shower. He had to get these out of here before she saw them. Because he knew Buffy, and she’d want to go and confront Angel and Dru, and there was no way he was going to put her in the middle of this sordid triangle.

Spike shoved the pictures back into the envelope, grabbed his cell and headed out the door.

He peeled out of the driveway, but came to a stop in the middle of the street. What the fuck was he going to do?

What was he going to do when he saw Angel? Did he give him the benefit of the doubt? They’d made their peace, come to some understanding about their past friendship. Did Spike really believe Angel would send embarrassing and possibly, illegal, pictures of his wife and another man to Buffy? No, he didn’t. Angel would gain nothing by the release of these pictures. They might even cost him the election, so why had Buffy been chosen for them? Spike didn’t know the how or the whys, but he was going to get some answers. Tonight.

_________

Diggler and Wexler held their breaths as the blue Liberty skidded to a stop a few hundred feet from their location. It had been an uncomfortable 4 hours, waiting for something, anything to happen. Ali had been convinced the lovers were in for the rest of the night, if the display they’d witnessed at the door was any indication.  But here he was.

“What do you think he’s doing?” Wexler whispered.

Ali shrugged. “No idea. Maybe he forgot something.” She said with a sense of wonder. “Ms. Summers wasn’t in the car, was she?”

“Nah. I would have noticed her.”

“I’m sure you would have.” Ali rolled her eyes.

Ali stared at the tail lights of the Jeep, a mixed sense of relief and anxiety. Buffy Summers was going to miss her date with the hitman, forcing Drucilla Cavanaugh into corner. What she would do once she discovered the truth was anybody guess?

_________

“What’s wrong?”

Tara looked up, startled. “What?”

Willow pushed off from the wall and wrapped her arms around Tara ’s waist. She laid her head between Tara ’s shoulder blades. “Something’s troubling you.”

“Yeah…”

“You tossed and turn all last night. Xander finally got fed up and slept in the guest room.”

Tara chuckled, squeezing Willow ’s arms. “Heh…so that’s why I didn’t have to fight for the covers.”

Willow smiled. “You’re ruining the fantasy. It’s supposed to be hot and freaky all the time in bed with two women.” She sashayed, making sure Tara felt every gyration.

“No fair.” Tara pouted, turning around. “That’s cheating.”

Willow ’s eyes widened. “What? I don’t think I know what you mean.”

Tara nodded, though her mouth quirked and her eyes danced. “Uh huh. Seducing the truth out of me. As if it hasn’t been done before.”

Willow reached up to press her lips to Tara ’s forehead. “Don’t like my baby worrying. Not when I can help… if I can.”

Tara knew there was nothing Willow could do to help, but the offer, the love she felt in every fiber of her being through Willow’s touch, was just what she needed.

“Worried about Buffy.” She finally admitted, feeling the knot in her stomach tightened that much more by voicing her fear. “It was a dream. Felt like a premonition.”

Willow leaned closer, brushing her lips softly across Tara ’s. She could feel Tara tremble, and though her ego wanted to believe it was her touch, Willow knew it was more than that.

“Call her. She’s probably home by now.”

“She’ll think I’m a worry wort.”

“She’ll think you’re being nosy.” Willow responded. “Besides, Spike will be there, and her brain is mush when he’s around.”

“It isn’t just her brain.” Tara mumbled, grabbing the phone. 

“What isn’t her brain?” Buffy asked, cradling the phone in one hand, while sliding her panties on with the other.

Tara giggled. “I was about to call you.”

“It’s ESP. I knew and therefore, I called. Wait a sec.” Buffy set the phone on the bed, and pulled a rose-colored baby tee over her head. Pulling her damp hair free as she slid on her belly across the bed, she said, “you’ll know Spike and I have been snatched by body snatchers if we start acting like Drucilla and Liam Cavanaugh. They were cold enough to freeze icicles on my ass.”

“Did Dru say something to you?”

Buffy laughed. “Are you kidding me? She wouldn’t dare. She was too busy proving to everyone what a wonderful, kind, and caring wife she is. Made me want to heave.”

“So…you’re fine?”

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine.” Buffy rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling fan. They needed to dust. Yucky. “Kinda made me rethink my stint as a journalist photographer.”

This was familiar. This was normal. Tara thought as she sat Indian-style on the sofa. Their world wasn’t darkness and despair. It was nothing like the nightmare, and hearing Buffy’s comical description of her day was enough to push aside any lingering concern Tara held as to Buffy’s safety. 

“Buffy… Buffy…Buffy. Have I taught you nothing? Bitch crazy. Bitch makes everything around her crazy.”

Buffy giggled, loud and long. “You are wise, my friend. You are wise.” 

____________

“I need some advice.”

Wes grinned, marking his place in his book with a scrap of paper. “Marry Buffy soon.”

Spike’s silence had Wes sitting up and taking notice. “What is it?”

Spike pulled over to the side of the road, a block from Cavanaugh campaign headquarters. From where he sat, he could see the office lights blazing in the distance, so he knew someone was working late tonight.

“Spike?”

“Someone…probably Dru, maybe not…I just don’t know. Someone sent Buffy pictures of Dru and Ethan Rayne in a lot of compromising positions.”

“The Ethan Rayne? Million dollar Rayne?” Wes said again, the disbelief and incredulity evident in the shrillness of his voice.

“The one and the same.” Spike slumped down, feeling older than his 28 years. “Why Buffy? Could someone be setting her up for…blackmail,extortion? I don’t know. She… I won’t let this touch her.”

This was a touchy situation, one that could easily blow up in their faces. Wesley needed all the information Spike had before advising him on how to proceed. Lee was exercising. He could hear the whirl of the treadmill and the filtered sounds of the television coming down the hall. He stepped out onto their balcony and leaned against the railing. The cool air was just the thing he needed to awaken him.

“Spike…we’ll get through this. Now tell me what you know.”

And Spike did, providing in detail all he knew regarding the mysterious package that had arrived at their house earlier in the afternoon.

“And you say the return address was illegible. Obviously, the sender didn’t want Buffy to know his or her identity. We could contact FedEx. It would be in their records.”

Spike shook his head. “I’m not waiting until tomorrow.”

Wesley threw his hands up in the air. “What do you want to do? Or better yet, what have you done?”

Spike reached over, throwing the car into drive. “I’m going to see the devil and his bride. If someone is blackmailing them, I want no part of it. They can have the pictures and each other. All I want is for them to leave me and Buffy the hell alone.”

“I wouldn’t recommend you do that, Spike.” And because he knew the S in Spike, also stood for Stubborn, Wes reiterated.  “William…you’ll be suspect. You basically threatened to tell the world about Drucilla’s abortion. They are going to think you are behind this.”

Spike had to wait for traffic to pass before he could pull away from the curb. “I’m not!” He said angrily. “Sorry, didn’t mean to snap at you. I know you’re worried, but what’s the worst that could happen?” He said as he parked in front of the glass doors.

“As your attorney and friend, don’t do this. Get back in your car and have a bonfire with those prints."

“I can’t do that. It’s too late anyway. I’m already here.”

___________________

Gaining entrance to the building had been relatively easy. The back door alarm was disabled, probably by the staffer closest to it, who had to get up each and every time it was triggered or there was a delivery. What was the point of having a state-of-the-art system if it wasn’t used properly? Parker slipped inside, his breath held as his eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness. The room was stocked with supplies for the victory party. Boxes piled high, obstructing the view of the rear from those up front.

The greenish glow from the LCD face of his watch was the only light he had besides the pen light he’d shoved into his pocket upon entering the building. 8:18 and no sign of Drucilla or Buffy. Parker didn’t like surprises, didn’t like the unexpected. There was a reason he’d never been convicted. He was careful and he planned for any deviations from the plan. There was a contingency plan for Buffy Summers’ absence from tonight’s shenanigans. It wouldn’t satisfy Dru’s desire for maximum carnage, but it would eliminate a problem and give her husband’s career an additional boost.

The vibration from his phone startled him, causing him to bump against the boxes. The top one swayed, but he caught and steadied it before it fell.

“I’ll be leaving in 10 minutes. I couldn’t get away any sooner.”

“If you’re not here by 8:45 , don’t bother. Go ahead to Ethan’s and I’ll meet you there.”

“I want to see you do it.” Dru whined, and he could see her thin lips puckered in a pout. Usually, the thought of her lips brought on visions of them wrapped around his cock, but not this time.

“And I want a puppy and ice cream, but it ain’t gonna happen, Mrs. Cavanaugh. Do as you’re told, and we won’t be going to jail for this!” His voice had risen during the exchange, so he stepped up to the doorway to see if he’d been discovered. The sight that greeted him had his eyes bulging out of their sockets. “Shit!”

She’s alarmed. He can hear it in her voice, though she can’t say the words above a whisper.

“Your boy is here. And he’s pissed from the looks of it. Seems as if lover boy intercepted your little gift to the missus.”

He expects her to be furious. Instead, she’s laughing, mirthless giggles into his ear, and it is grating like nails on a chalkboard. This whole situation is so fucked up, it’s not even funny, but his quality of life is riding on this gig, and he’s going to make the best of this busted up situation.

“I’m on my way. I have to see his face when you...” She trails off, and the voices he hears in the background are loud and clear. “Let me just finish this call, and I’ll meet you out front, Mother.”

“Please don’t do anything until I arrive. I promise I’ll make it up to you if you wait for me.” Her words are dripping with decadence, and his imagination is fertile. He sighs. He’s so put upon.

“I’ll wait, but hurry. No amount of pussy is worth me becoming some convict’s bottom.” 

_______________

If a to-do list is over 3 pages long, did that automatically make it a book report? Darla thought it might. Three red slashes sent #48 off to the ether. The next one was marked “A”, meaning only Angel could handle it. Of course, that would necessitate Angel actually being present, and he was still kissing ass at his father-in-law’s club.

“And that’s why he’s married to someone like her and not you.” She grumbled. Darla shook her head, pissed at herself for entertaining foolish thoughts like that when she needed to give her job her complete attention. But it was hard, she knew that. Knew that even after tomorrow, her attraction to Angel wasn’t going to go away, that they’d be stuck in this limbo until one of two things happened. She took another consulting job far, far away from California or the Cavanaughs divorced. And even then, it would be another year probably. Gah…it was enough to drive her to marijuana, for medicinal purposes of course.

“Keep your mind on the prize, Henson. Keep your mind on the prize.”

“Then these most definitely came out of the Fruit Loop box.” Spike said in greeting, throwing the photos on Darla’s desk. As they had at Spike’s place, the slick 8X10s fell out onto the table. Darla’s hand paused, hovering over them as she felt her face flame and her eyes widen.

“What…where…how did you get these?” She stepped away from her desk, her mind racing with ways to make this go away before 7 am .

“The tooth fairy left them under my pillow.” Spike snarked, absently searching for a cigarette, before realizing he’d finished his pack earlier in the day. “I’m guessing your boss sent them to me, but for the life of me, I don’t know why.”

Darla came around the desk, staring down the few remaining staffers who were milling about outside her door. She gave them a look that clearly said back off, and closed the door. “That’s bullshit. Angel wouldn’t risk his career by sending that…that crap to you, not with your history. He knows how much you hate Drucilla. He wouldn’t do this.”

Spike bobbed his head throughout Darla’s impassioned defense of her boss, probably boyfriend. “Yeah, that’s right. Angel is an upstanding young man who’d never do something underhanded. Except fuck his best friend’s girlfriend in their bed. To be honest, I really don’t care what his motivation was for doing it, I just want him to know to leave me and Buffy out of his fucked up life. We aren’t friends. Been there, done that, not going to happen again.”

As calmly as she could, Darla gathered the pictures up, setting them aside. She didn’t want to look at them anymore. Not because she was a prude and they offended her, but because she didn’t want to have nightmares of Ethan Rayne’s pale ass.

“Okay…” she said, calmly, rationalizing the situation quickly in her head. “Say Angel sent them to you.” She held up her hand as Spike was puffing up to protest. “I don’t think he did, but there has to be an explanation for all of this. If he sent them to you, it might have been for safekeeping.”

Should she break Angel’s confidence? Darla didn’t believe she had much choice. Spike was mad enough to go babbling to the press, and it was her job to do damage control. “Angel is going to divorce Dru after the election. The pictures could be used to force her to go away quietly.” She dared a glance at Spike.

“Right….and I was his first choice.”

Darla sighed. “I don’t know. Look, I don’t think he had anything to do with this, so I’m grasping at straws, okay?”

Spike nodded curtly. “Where is he? I want to talk to him.”

Darla could feel the tension turned down a notch and sat down behind her desk. “He’s at dinner with his in-laws, but he should be here soon.”

“Call him. I want to talk to him right now. I’m not leaving until I tell him where to shove those pics.”

“Alright. Wait here.” Darla opened the door, causing several people to have whiplash. “Hey…can I have everyone’s attention?”

Darla put on her biggest smile and remembered her days back in grade school when she’d been the best damn Green team cheerleader at Woodward Middle School .

“We have an early day tomorrow, so I’m going to be a nice boss and let you guys go home early. But…everyone needs to be here by 5:30 .” Groans accompanied that announcement, but she laughed them off. “Yes, I know it’s early, but we want to be at the polls when they open. I want every voter to know what Liam Cavanaugh stands for. So, I will see you tomorrow bright and early and chipper.”

_________

Parker eased out of the backroom as the noise level died down. Not five minutes earlier, he’d been crouched, hands gripping his gun tightly as the din rose uncomfortably as chairs were shoved across tile, computers were powered down, and goodbyes were bade. There was an eerie silence to the office, aided by the lone light that shone from Darla’s office. Cocking his gun, Parker hugged the wall as crept towards the door. He could place where they stood by the carry of their voices. William Giles was seated closest to the door, while Darla was over near her desk, her voice curt as she called Liam Cavanaugh. ___

The conversation was short and to the point. Parker smiled, and knew he looked sleazy doing it, but when a woman like Darla whispered in your ear, you stood up and took notice. She wouldn’t have to ask him more than once to do something. Of course, he’d make her beg too, but he wouldn’t mind being the submissive to her dominatrix for a night.

“Hurry. Yes, I’ll tell him.” As she hung up, she could feel a painful throb behind her eyes and knew a migraine was forthcoming.

“Tell me what?” Spike inquired, propping his booted feet up on her desk.

“He’s on his way.” Darla responded, her hand sweeping his feet off. “And…he’s not responsible and he’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“Ahh… standard Angel bullshit. I feel so relieved to know he’s on the case.” His British accent even more pronounced as the sarcasm-laced words left his mouth.

Darla smirked. Hey, she could appreciate good snark when she heard it. “On a personal note, I am sorry you and Buffy got dragged into this.”

“Me too.” Spike remarked.

“Me three.” Parker held his hand up as Spike sprang from his seat. With the gun pointed, unwavering at Darla’s chest, Parker stepped fully inside the room. “Heroes get people killed”, he remarked, “so why don’t you take a seat and relax?”

Spike’s eyes never left the gun, but he did as he was told. “If it’s money you want…”

“You don’t have enough to make that offer worthwhile, so give your mouth a break. This will all be over soon.”  

Darla’s blue eyes were filled with fear and defiance, and Parker found his mind wandering into fantasy land once again. “Okay, here’s how things are going to go.” He told them, putting Darla between him and Spike. And if his stance pushed his cock into the cleft of Darla’s ass and the scent of her perfume tickled his nostrils, then so be it. There were worst situations than this.

____________

“I’ll be fine, mother. Darla’s car is still here and…she has company. I’m just going to run inside, say hello, and then I’ll be right out.”

Marilyn didn’t seem convinced as she stared at the darkened office. “Drucilla, take Arthur with you, at least.”

“Mother, I’ll be fine besides Daddy called. He needs Arthur to return to the club immediately. He didn’t sound happy, and you know how Daddy gets when he’s not happy.” From the twitch that suddenly started to appear between her mother’s brows, Dru knew Marilyn did. While it was pathetic to be fearful of a man, in Marilyn’s case, it was entirely justified. Without giving Marilyn a chance to continue, Dru turned and walked slowly towards the office. It wouldn’t do for her mother to see her sprinting inside. No, then there’d be questions, and there’d be time for those later.

She opened the door slowly, not wanting to spook Parker and end up shot herself. She could hear voices coming from Darla’s office, though what was being said wasn’t clear.

“Do you understand what’s going to happen?” Parker asked.

“I hope I haven’t missed anything.” All eyes turned towards her, and she allowed herself a moment to bask in the attention. “Hello, William, what a nice surprise. I was expecting the Barbie doll, but you’ll do.” She walked up to Spike, admiring the way he looked. She hadn’t seen him since that night at the gallery, and it would seem life with the kewpie doll agreed with him. She leaned in to kiss him, but Parker’s bark stopped her.

“What the fuck are you doing? Kissing him will leave evidence.” Parker shoved Darla towards Spike, and yanked Drucilla into his chest. “We don’t have long. She called your husband.” He whispered harshly in her ear. 

“I know.” She smiled. “He called. Told me to stay here and wait for him.” It was the best joke in the world, and she couldn’t stop giggling.

“You can’t be here when he discovers them.” His hand was under her elbow, guiding Dru to the door.

Dru shook him off, grabbing the gun out of his hand. She held it, her madness evident in the way the gun wavered from side to side. “You forced me to do this.”

Spike pushed Darla behind his back, shielding her. “Dru…what are you doing?”

“You wrote all those nasty things about me in your book, and praised that twit for fucking you for one night. I loved you, William, and you betrayed me. You fell in love with Buffy. She was supposed to be the one to die tonight. You were going to suffer for her death, knowing she died because… You. Loved. Her. And you…” The gun was lifted above and to the right of Spike’s shoulder, pointing with deadly accuracy at Darla’s head.

“You tried to steal my husband from me. You made him hate me. You made him look at me…through me. And he fancies himself in love with you.”

She might have been crazy as a loon, but her words, her hate were clear as a bell. “So Angel will pay. Everyday for the rest of his life, I will make him pay. I’ll remind him of his folly. You’ll be dead, and he’ll still be married to me.”

Parker checked his watch. This was all wrong. The husband would be here soon. He had to get Dru out of here before it all blew up in their faces.

“Give me the gun, and get out of here. I’ll meet you at Ethan’s.”

Dru shook her head, but she stepped back from Spike and Darla. “Can’t. Have to give my William his present.”

The force of the shot lifted Spike off his feet and he crashed back onto Darla. Blood splattered on her cheek. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Her eyes darted from Parker to Dru, pleading silently for her life.

“Red was always his color. Next to blue.” Parker ripped the gun out of Drucilla’s hand. He stuck his head out of the door, checking to see if anyone heard the shot. The limo continued to idle.

“Crazy fucking bitch. Get the hell out of here. Go home and wait for my call. If you show up at Ethan’s, I’ll put a bullet in your head.”

Dru’s head snapped up as if she’d been slapped. “No! I want Ethan to know.”

Parker shook his head, glancing at the downed blondes. “I don’t care what you want. The police could be on their way as we speak. I don’t have time to babysit you.” He dragged Dru to the door, managing to stay in the shadows.

“Now, you’re going to go out there, and pretend all was well inside here. You’re going to go home, take a bath, and wait until I contact you. Do I make myself clear?”

Dru’s eyes had glazed over and she was staring into the office again. So Parker slammed her into the glass. “Do I make myself clear?”

Dru nodded. “William’s dead.” She whispered, her voice trembling. “William’s dead.”

“He is, and you killed him. Now, go before we’re both caught.”

_______

The sharp rap of a firecracker had Marilyn sitting up and looking around fearfully.

“What was that, Arthur?”  She asked, relieved when the front door opened and Drucilla stepped out. She turned to speak to someone and then hurried to the car.

“See…that didn’t take too long.” Dru kissed her mother’s cheek before laying her head on Marilyn’s shoulder. Dru took Marilyn’s hand in hers and squeezed it tightly. “Let’s go before Daddy burst a blood vessel.

Marilyn stroked her fingers through Dru’s hair. What was going on? Did she want to know?

“Arthur, let’s go. Mr. Hayes is waiting.”

_______

Angel drove with both hands on the wheel and his foot mashed into the floorboards. Darla’s call had him spooked. If someone wanted to sabotage his campaign, releasing photos of his wife fucking one of her father’s friends would do it. And sending them to Spike and Buffy, was like waving a red flag in front of a bull in a china store.

Saxby had demanded to know what had happened, but what could Angel say to the man? Your daughter has spent the majority of her life on her back screwing anything with a real penis and there are pictures. Big, glossy pictures.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Banging his hand against the steering wheel didn’t help, but damn it felt good.

Taking one hand off the steering wheel, he reached inside his pocket for his cell. He needed answers and unfortunately, the only person with a reasonable knowledge of the situation was the very person who wished he’d dropped off the face of the earth. Nevertheless, he needed to talk to Spike, just to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid or rash.

And wasn’t it telling that he had Spike’s number in his phone book. And wasn’t it telling that Spike wasn’t answering his phone. Typical dipshit behavior on Spike’s part. He’d rather let Angel stew than talk to him. Fine. That was perfectly fine with him. This time he was innocent. He had nothing to hide. He would find out who did this, and then he’d take great pains to make them pay. Quietly of course.

As he drove down the exit ramp and onto W. Chapel road, Angel went over in his mind who would do this, why they would this, and what they hoped to gain from it. He was coming up empty on all accounts.

The flashing blue and red lights had him slowing to a crawl. Until he realized they were parked outside of his campaign office. He was out of the car before it had a chance to come to a complete stop. He was running, heart pounding, lungs straining when they tackled him.

“I’m Ang…Liam Cavanaugh. This is my office. What…where’s Darla?”

The officers eased their grip, but didn’t allow him to pass. “Sir…there’s been an incident. We need you to stay back here.”

Angel flung their hands off him, stomping around them and towards the yellow tape. “Where is Darla? Where is Spike? I was meeting them here. They were here. What the fuck is going on?”

An officer, clearly a higher rank than the others, signaled everyone away. Angel stared again at the office, now lit bright from the inside and out. The media was starting to set up, and there was a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach that started to grow with each passing second.

“Mr. Cavanaugh, I’m deputy chief Reynolds, I’m afraid there’s been a shooting.”

Angel stepped back in shock. “Where is Darla? Darla Hansen, my campaign manager. My friend…William Giles, he stopped in. Where are they? Are they alright?” 

The silence that greeted his questions had him bending over, emptying the contents of his stomach on the pavement.

_______

Her third trip to the refrigerator, and still no sign of Spike. No sign Tara was going to stop talking either. And it didn’t help Buffy could hear the sounds of food being consumed in the background.

“What are you guys cooking?”

“Sex and rock n’ roll”

“Very funny, old dear best friend of mine, but I’m hungry and Spike’s at Ipo’s with Cordy, and who knows when I’ll get something to eat. So humor me.”

Tara giggled. “Okay, damn… I forgot how persnickety you get when you haven’t been fed. Tofu lo mein from Mama Fu’s.”

“Do you ever cook?” Buffy asked, envious and wishing for the umpteenth time, they’d had the pizza delivered.

“Only in the sack. Booyah!”

The squeal of brakes outside had Buffy jumping up and down. “Oh, thank god, he’s back. Don’t be offended if I hang up, but my mouth’s salivating and I don’t want to short out the phone.”

Buffy could hear Tara ’s manical laughter as she clicked off.

The door bell rang and she opened it without checking to see who was on the other side. “Damnit, Spike, I was about to call the police.”

Red and blue lights flashed ominously and a solemn looking officer stood at her door. “Ms. Summers?”

TBC.......