Rules Reset
By Sweetprincipale
Sequel to I Like to Win. Please read that first. Skipping around through season six. Buffy's life ended before she and Spike had a chance to try out a second game Spike proposed, inspired by the drinking game of "Drowning the Sorrows". He never thought he'd have chance to prove how much he loved her, or show he could be her champion when it came to making her happy. Now Buffy's back and the game continues, offering Spike a chance to show that he can not only bring her happiness, but possibly bring her back to life.
Author's Note: Conniving, kissing, and yet more conniving. All for love.
Author's Second note: So apparently had a grand old time with the site yesterday, and when I posted the new chapter, some people were able to post reviews, others were not, some received alerts but couldn't read the chapter, and some didn't even receive alerts. Sorry to have to post the same chapter a second time, but I don't want people to read chapter ten before nine if they missed the alert. Thanks for your patience.
Dedicated to NeonRaver, ginar369, Alexiarrose, haleycc, cavementftw, rororogers, Jewel74, Illusera, Omslagspapper, NausicA, Mike13z50,Teddybear-514, Touch The Dark, Lyzzybelle, Rosalea12, ladyamadaun, and MaireAilbhe.
Direct Quotes are obviously not mine, but belong to the fabulously talented and creative people who wrote them. In this case, some of season six's dialogue will be used.
Nothing of Buffy belongs to me, except my sincere admiration. However, this story is all mine.
Part IX
"I'm looking for Ronny. Lucre demon? 'Bout so high, orange eyes, blue tint to his hair?" Spike dragged into Willy's much later than he'd have liked to. He didn't want Buffy and Dawn to think he'd run out on them, taking so long to get back. He did have a glimmer of comfort in the thought that by now they must be beginning to realize that he'd never do such a thing.
"Why?" Willy poured him a pint of blood in a thick glass mug and looked at him anxiously. Word travels fast in demon circles, and word of Spike's rampant killing spree had made the rounds already.
" 'Cause he's lucre demon, he knows everything about anything to do with money in this town."
"Yeah, well I give you that much. But I don't know where he-" Willy quailed under Spike's pointed "don't B.S. me" glare "- is at the moment. I think he might be in the back. Private game, though, you can't go -" Spike was already off the stool, mug drained and stalking to the back. "Least I tried to warn him." Willy consoled himself.
"Hello chaps. Can I speak to Ronny for just a moment?" Spike came in without knocking and smarmed and charmed with sneer on his face as he surveyed the figures around a card table.
"Who invited the vamp? Demons only. No half-breeds." One ugly, hairy creature informed him.
"Very nice, very prejudiced of you." Spike lit up and smiled, unruffled. "I don't want to play, I want to speak to Ronny for just a moment. Please." He smiled a frosty, fake grin that only lived on his mouth, never traveled to his eyes.
"I don't know this punk." Ronny looked up from his hand, then looked back down.
"Allow me to introduce myself. Spike, William the bloody, Slayer of Slayers." Now lover of one. Some eyes darted nervously, but Ronny remained unimpressed.
"Look, buddy, I'm only talkin' to the guys I'm playing with."
"I see. And you have a full table already." Spike reached down, picked up the nearest demon by the neck, and pushed his thumb in hard. The demon let out a choking gasp. "Do you play by dead man's boots in this game?" Spike squeezed harder, and the players rose as one, fearful, freaked, or annoyed expressions on their faces. "I'm sorry." Spike sneered to the demon in his grasp. "I have to talk to Ronny. One way or another, and if there's only one way to get invited to play..."
"Geez, alright. I'll talk to you. Put him down."
"Oh, really, how kind of you." Spike dropped the creature, shook off his hand and motioned Ronny to step outside.
Once in the alley behind the bar, the lucre demon opened with, "You got a lot of balls, Mr. Spike."
"Just the usual number, it's all in what they're made of. Now. I need the name of a corrupt banker. Preferably someone in the loan or mortgage department."
Ronny stared at him with bulging orange eyes. "You almost killed a guy so you could ask me for a referral?"
"Not a referral, no. I have a friend who needs a bit of work done to her house, and a Mr. Savitsky at First Sunnydale shot her down. Unjustifiably."
"She had the right numbers for him?"
"A flippin' pie chart an' everything."
The vampire and the lucre demon both got puzzled expressions on their faces.
"Pie chart?"
"Numbers?"
"My friend went in with all the facts and figures, an' she had 'em done by a tough business woman who could turn profit on used chicken feet an' a girl who is literally a wizard with maths." Spike explained.
"So she wasn't tryin' to bribe him?"
"No! She just needs a few grand to do a bit of home repair, not finance a drug ring!"
"So why d'you need the names of dirty bankers?"
Spike sighed. He didn't want to show his hand or expose his plan. "Can you just give me a name?"
"Not without a little more to go on, East End."
Spike vamped slowly and methodically, he could control the transformation with an effort. The effort was worth it, watching the blue tinted skin turn an skim milk color. "See, Ronny, a lot of demons in this town owe each other favors, an' turns out, some of the humans are in the mix as well. What I need is a banker who owes someone a favor, and hopefully that someone will owe me a favor. D'you see? Circle of life here?"
"Oh, it's a beautiful circle, and I love it. But I'm a lucre demon, and you're just a vamp. People worship me. I make them rich. You're just a killing machine and I don't have to do anything for uppity half breeds with big fancy names."
Spike lunged out with one hand, compressed the windpipe of his orange- eyed annoyance and slammed his head into the brick wall of the bar's exterior. "Should've done this in the first place. I try to be a gentleman, see, an' look at the hassle." Spike's boot swung up and quickly caught a leg raising up to kick him. "Stop that. I tried it your way. Now we try it my way. Killing machine, was that what you called me?"
Instantly, Ronny seemed much more talkative, if wheezy and hard to hear. "John Groff. First Sunnydale. Junior loan officer. Had ties with M'Fashniks just after college."
"M'what nows?"
"Mercenary demons. They work for the highest bidder."
Spike loosened his grip so his informant could speak more freely. "What's the story?"
"I don't know... that's not my area, all I do is cast the spells and get the offerings, make the money."
"Mr. Groff is a devotee of yours?"
"Uh-huh."
"Interesting. And he owes M'whatevers a favor?"
"He pays them... a little at a time for whatever they did back in the day. Why he's been coming to me to grow the money, grease the wheels. He's going up through the bank quick, and getting sweet commissions, and he wants these guys paid off. You cross a M'Fashnik and they take their pay in blood."
"I like them already. There's one in town?"
"There's one in here tonight. Playing pool. But why you think he'll help you-"
"You helped me, didn't you?" Spike unvamped and released him, watching him slump to the dirty street, gasping and wide eyed. "I'm very persuasive."
"You're nuts."
"I prefer to think of it myself as a 'rule breaker'. Have a good night, and thanks ever so."
"You M'Fashnik?"
"I am a M'Fashnik demon, yes."
"I'm wondering if we could do a little business." Spike waited until the huge, muscular gray demon sank his last ball.
"If your price is right we can."
"Finally, a man who doesn't beat around the bush. Mr. Groff at the bank- owes you a little something, does he?"
"M' Fashniks collect debts to our clan. He owed my brother something for a service performed."
"Well, I'm wondering if you'd waive his debt."
"For the right price." That seemed to be his credo.
"Lovely, we'll come back to that. Can I buy you a beer?"
"After a price is set."
"Bloody hell, you people are driven." This was not met with a smile. Spike pushed on. "Right, here's the thing. I have a friend who needs a loan of a few thousand dollars, and I want this on the up and up. Well, mainly on the up an' up, she wouldn't take stolen money an' I don't have time to 'earn it', like I'd planned."
"Go on."
"I want you to tell Mr. Groff the debt is cancelled if he whips her up something along the lines of a home equity loan or a home improvement loan. And in return, I do you a favor."
"Mr. Groff owes us seven thousand dollars."
"We'd better go to the barter system then." Spike sighed. "What can I interest you in, in terms of goods and services?"
"M'Fashniks live only to accumulate wealth and perform the tasks to accumulate wealth."
"Very goal oriented, I like that. But seven grand isn't happening."
The demon appeared to think and then bent low. "There is a H'thra demon who owed my family a great deal of money and hasn't paid his debt. But he's small and devious, and we haven't been able to catch him. It looks terrible for business."
"I can imagine. You want me to round him up for you?"
"If you bring me his head- I will get your friend the loan documents within a day."
"I'm not carryin' a head through town! I'd have to put it under my coat and it'd get gunk all over my peanut butter cups!" Spike frowned automatically.
"Peanut butter cups? Are those some sort of gel explosives?"
"No, it's some sort of milk chocolate with a creamy peanut butter filling an' it's the one candy my lady friend happens to have a real weakness for. C'mon, we'll go get you your H'thra head, you can see it with your own eyes, an' then you can do this loan, alright?"
"Absolutely. We shake on it."
Spike shook. A quill shot from the demon's wrist to his own. "Ow! Sod it!"
"That's our guarantee. Our 'signature'.We give you a blood promise."
"You do this loan for me, an' I'm gonna get you a box of pens, alright?" Spike walked out of the bar yet again, following the hulking demon in front of him apparently to the H'thra's lair.
Behead demon- God I should've asked more about what a H'thra is...
Then get to Buffy's.
Present chocolate.
Make an arrangement to pick up the loan papers.
Go back, get loan papers to Buffy.
Whole damn night shot to hell.
Everything takes so bloody long when you do it the hard way. If this were a crime show, I'd already be in bed with the leading lady by now...
"Glad you're still up. Thought you'd be in bed by now." Spike stumbled across the backyard and found Buffy sitting on the back porch, head bowed to her knees, just like she'd been that night she heard her mum was ill. Just like that night, he reflexively went and sat beside her.
"I was waiting for you." Buffy said simply.
His lips parted in a half smile, sort of like a cheeky bad boy grin. After all the nights he'd waited for her... "I'm sorry I took so long, Pet. How goes the plumbin'?"
"Expensively. Xander was here until about half an hour ago, making a list of every pipe and part and tool we need. He and Giles bought a new valve and one section of pipe just so we could get the water turned back on tonight. Tomorrow Xander is going back to the store with Giles' credit card and buying the rest." Buffy drug her hands wearily through her hair. "I feel so bad. The interest on that..."
"Slayer, don't worry about the interest, I'm sure the old boy has nice, low, respectable rates."
"I wanted to wait to start the major overhauling, but we can't. Xander said he's going to try to see if he can get some of the guys over to help, but it's a Saturday and there's like no notice. Plus I can't really pay them right now. So we'll see what happens." Buffy looked up at the night sky. "It's stupid, isn't it?"
"What?"
"I'm just one little person down here. One little person and it's a big, fat universe, but all I seem to worry about is me and a couple others. At least since I came back."
"You saved the world, Slayer, think you're allowed a little time to focus on household chores." Spike quipped.
She shrugged. "In heaven you just get used to not worrying at all."
"Sorry." He squeezed her hand. "Know it's hard, and I know it's not like one day you wake up, feelin' magically better about the shitty hand you got dealt. Twice."
"Three times, if you count the couple minutes I was dead in high school." She muttered. "I'm sorry. I'm whining."
"You know, that's what's stupid." He turned his face to hers with a frown. "You think when you complain, that you're whining. Hate to tell you, Luv, heroes are people too."
"What's a dead hero?" She sighed, knowing it was unnecessarily grim and mopey, but keeping her positive face on for Dawn and Xander, and then Willow and Tara, had just about made her jaw crack.
"A member of a very special, exclusive club." Spike quipped. It made her smile.
"You and me are in it?"
He'd meant her and Jesus, but well... "Me?"
"Yeah. You're technically dead but moving around."
"I was stuck on the hero part."
Her words moved easily from her brain, no second guesses tonight. "You helped prevent an apocalypse. You save people. You were willing to die for people. If that's my 'heroic' description, it's yours too."
His hand found hers more firmly, entrenched in sudden stillness. Fingers wove together, then locked, resting on knees that were pressed together, one of hers, one of his. "Thanks, Luv."
"You're welcome."
Nothing but the rustle of wind and some branches rattling as they blew in it for a few minutes. Then he was off, lecturing in a laid back voice that never made it seem like a lecture, or advice, just simply Spike talking, 'cause you couldn't shut him up anyway.
"You're a person. You're gonna have problems, hero or not, long as you live on this planet. You're allowed to open up and tell people what pisses you off. We don't take it as you whinin' at us. We want to yell along with you, tell you you're right, the loan officer at the bank is a lousy son of a bitch, and the price of copper is outrageous, and who the hell writes the reference guides for plumbers? Some M.I.T. grad with a sadistic side?"
She snickered and let her head fall on his shoulder. "Cable companies charge way too much."
"I know! An' you don't even get BBC America. Don't know what you're payin' for."
"Nice shoes are outrageously unfriendly to young people with no money, too."
"You'd think they'd want us all barefoot." They were getting into it, and her smile seemed to lock in and hold steady.
"My friends can be total booger brains sometimes."
"Cabbages, the lot."
"But they love me like crazy."
"To the end of the world- and after."
"You're just a yes man, aren't you?"
"For you, Luv, I've been all kinds of people." And in just one night, too.
She let out a deep, soul lifting sigh. "Thanks. I needed to vent."
"Always happy to lend and ear." He dwelt on the feel of her hand in his, warm and intertwined for a few moments. Wish the touch of my hand could make you light up the same way yours does to me. He gave her a lopsided grin. "Know what else is good for the blues?"
"Jazz?"
"Not that kind of blues. Ah, see, look at that, you're makin' cracks, you must be feelin' better!"
"I do. I do feel better. I'm totally stoked to spend a whole day looking at dresses and trying on whatever ones I want just because I can. And purses. Tiny little purses that would never hold a stake, so I'll never carry one, but tomorrow- I'm going to just pile all of them up in a bundle and hug them." She gave him a childish, giggling grin.
He gave her an appraising stare. "Damn it, you're cute. I always had it in my head you were beautiful and sexy, but you're cute as well."
Buffy blushed. "Thanks. I uh- it's really late and I have to be perky and enthusiastic for about a six hour stretch tomorrow. I've never been a bridesmaid before. Apparently we gush." They shared a little laugh.
"Right. It's okay." He stood when she stood. "I jus' wanted to come back an' make sure the house wasn't afloat."
"Har har har."
"And give you these." He fished into his coat pocket and held out two packets of peanut butter cups. "They might be a bit squished, but not melted. 'Cause I have to be doin' a lot to heat up to the point where somethin' melts." Like makin' love to you. Never made love to a human before, let alone you, Slayer, but bein' wrapped inside your silk... God, I might burst into flame, an' let you ride the blazes out...
Buffy took the candy in her hands like someone had put rubies in her palms. "These are my absolute favorite." She curled her fingers tightly over them. Do not cry. Do not cry over a handful of cheap candy. But it's my favorite. How'd he know that?
Spike nodded, a discreet smile on his lips. "Dawn told me. How you used to raid the boxes of candy at Valentine's Day lookin' for the ones with peanut butter centers, an' how you used to trade away all the rest of your Halloween candy for these. Also mentioned you used to steal 'em out of her trick or treat bag bag."
"I did not! That was Mom!" Buffy cried indignantly. "Usually." She let out a guilty giggle and tore open the edge of one pack. "Here, take one."
"No, those are for you!"
"But I have four, I can share one."
"No." He said firmly. Nonetheless his insides were turning straight to mush. Her favorite treat in the world, and what's the first thing she does? Offers me some of it. She might have been pulled out of heaven, but she brings me a taste of it. He felt like he could float, high on happiness.
"I'm not tired yet." Buffy nibbled a piece out of one chocolate circle and then tucked them carefully in her jeans' pocket. "You?"
"Not at all." Sore maybe, but alert.
"Want to take a walk around the block?"
"I would love to." Even though I might be walkin' like an old man. H'thra demons were little and slippery and he had the limp to prove it. Bloody lizard-like thing damn near broke his ankle.
Buffy slid her arm through his as if slotting a piece into a puzzle. It just fit. With the other hand, she retrieved her treat and took a bigger bite, making one cheek bulge like a chipmunk's. "Mmmm. Mese ur tho ood."
"If that's s'posed to be Fyarl, Pet, you're doin' it all wrong."
She snickered and swallowed. "Mmm, these are so good!" The petite blonde on his arm restated with a wide grin.
That's why I did it. Not just 'cause they're her favorite, but it's bringing back a bunch of favorites, old memories, good moments.
"I feel like I haven't had one of these in forever." No wonder. It did feel like being gone forever, maybe that's why it's so hard to be back. She took another distracting and delicious bite."Mm. Mmmm. These are the yummiest things in the world."
"Not half as delicious as you." They weren't even all the way to the property line when he stopped. Here we go. I threatened a lucre demon and some demon-supremacist bigots into submission, I did a deal with a mercenary, I conned Willow in a nice, gentlemanly way, and I decapitated a skinny twitchy little welcher. Be brave.
Buffy's mind made one frantic cry as she let him turn her. No! No, don't trust, don't relax, don't give in. He'll make you helpless, weak, break your heart.
Sorry. I'm already all of those things, and none of them were caused by him. Her eyelids slowly closed, all the air inside her froze.
This time it was him, kissing her. It had never been like that, it had always been her instigating, when it was real, and that was good. He wanted that, because it meant she wanted him, it was her driving, and he was happy to go whatever road she wanted, as long as he was beside her in her travels.
Oh, I can show you we're on the same path... I can show you there are whole new worlds to go to, or a thousand places right inside your mind, and all that has to happen for both of us to go is for you to be happy. Happy enough to be whole, an' maybe whole enough one day that you can give me a little piece of yourself.
Someday.
She shuddered as her spine seemed to untie itself from its half-frozen state, as her air rushed out, warm under his cold lips. "Mm."
"Hmm."
They'd never done that before, no sounds of pleasure.
He'd never felt her move against him before either, not in more than a gentle, sweet embrace. This time her hand stroked up his arm, then down his back, and massaged- yes, he was awake, not a dream, massaged and kneaded one little patch of skin on side, just under the ribs.
"Infinitely more delicious." He purred, pulling back, afraid to stop, that she wouldn't let him continue. Afraid to continue, and that she'd ask him to stop. Where had all that bravado and brashness gone?
"You're yummy, too." She blushed and took a couple shallow breaths, still looking up at him.
"Thanks."
"Not chocolatey. Spike-y." He winced. "What?"
"Harmony." He twitched unpleasantly.
"Would you rather I called you Blondie Bear?" She asked, with pure malice in her eyes, a laugh skimming under her voice.
"You minx!" He smirked. "You remembered!"
Buffy picked up her chocolate and raised it in mock salute. "So did you."
Still so close, but not reentering the kiss. Damn. Well, it was a good opener, gotta say that. He smiled and teased her. "How much do I have to pay you to forget that particular bit?"
Forgetting. In heaven, all the pain is just forgotten. Everything bad is forgotten.
Then sometimes they force you to remember.
No more forgetting. No more forcing.
"Just give me new memories instead." Buffy whispered.
His eyes went from blue to black in dilation and desire. He was almost clumsy with how he scooted her back, not to continue their walk, not to sit on her porch, but to conceal themselves in the shrubbery just on the edge of the property instead. She sat down with a thump and he joined her, leaning in, necks craning, until they fell back.
Oh my God. I'm lying down. His hand is on my stomach. At first her muscles went rigid, her eyes flew open, staring at a the most beautiful, marblesque face, frozen in a kiss. Kissing her. Every tensed muscle uncoiled in unison.
Shit, stupid weak ankle, lost m'balance and now she'll think I'm trying to shag her, here, in the grass like a common pick up in the park. "Sorry." He rasped and pulled her arm, sliding his own under her shoulders, sitting them back up together.
Her eyes lost their green in the darkness of this tiny patch of woods. Her fingers curled around the lapels of his jacket and she breathed heavily, pulling him back down as she lay back herself.
"Buffy..."
"I trust you." She murmured, and she did.
Can your heart ever orgasm? Don't be coarse, William. But he wanted to ask, because he thought that explosion of ultimate pleasure could only come from down below, and here it was, suddenly happening in in the center of his chest.
Don't trust him! Not that you can't, but you just pulled him on top of you, he's going to think you want to have sex!
I don't. Right?
I wouldn't mind if he was close to me like this though. Warm, and safe. Even chocolatey. Heaven never had chocolatey.
This was going to undo him. Absolutely. It shouldn't be like this, shouldn't be here, in the open, and she wasn't ready for that, or she would have made it more plain. He didn't want to at the moment, anyway. This revelation sparked an angry inner argument.
Don't be stupid!
It's not stupid if you want to hear her say the words first. Maybe not "I love you." Maybe "I need you." Even "I want you."
"I trust you" isn't close enough?
Sorry. Not unless it's combined with one of the other key phrases.
"Slayer?"
She hesitated, mind dazedly circling before responding, He's going to ask me what I'm doing, and I'm going to freeze up because I don't want him to leave and I don't want more and I've never been able to tell anyone exactly what I want, especially not guys I like.
"Yes?" She asked nervously.
"I'm gonna melt your chocolate." He said in a strained voice.
Her mouth fell open. Then pursed, lips sealed, and her eyes blinked rapidly.
Spike stared. "You're not havin' as asthma attack are you? I don't think Slayers can have asthma."
A gurgling, spluttering noise emitted from her throat, a helpless, collapsing laugh that shook her whole body. "Spike..." She wheezed and pushed him off, still giggling.
"I'm missing something, aren't I?"
"It's okay." On their sides, in the cool, damp grass, facing each other, a little space between them now. "Do you mind if I go in soon?"
" 'Course not. I can walk you in now." He prepared to get up.
Wow. That was easy. Everything is easier with him. Especially when we're not fighting. Especially the opposite of fighting.
She drew him back down, to his side, face to face, chest to chest. "In a few minutes..."
Twenty minutes and four peanut butter cups later...
"Not too melted." Buffy grinned.
"That's 'cause I stopped layin' on top of you." Damn, that sounded much more innocent in my head.
"I'm all covered in grass and stuff." Buffy sat up and brushed herself down, blushing. She had enjoyed the feel of him halfway over her, the long, tangling, breath-stealing kisses that didn't have to lead to anything but what she wanted. What she wanted seemed so much less complicated when he was beside her. She wanted to feel better- and she was. "You're a mess, too."
"Not your fault, been a long night."
"Oh?"
Don't tell her yet. God, what if she won't accept the loan if she hears I "encouraged" it? It's still a legal loan, from her very own bank. She has to. Or I had a very pointless evening. "Just a little scrape with some guys at Willy's." He said truthfully, if incompletely.
"Poor you." She brushed her lips to his as she pulled a leaf from his hair.
Bloody fool. How could you ever think the night was pointless when she kissed you? Any day you see her has meaning, and don't you forget that, don't you push for more, you get a chance that's unheard of, and all at her expense. "Nothin' much, just vamp bigots."
"What? Racist vampires?"
"No, demons who hate vamps, 'cause we're half-human."
Buffy blinked. "That's weird."
"Earth, Hell dimensions, every place has some kinda prejudice."
Buffy nodded, now strolling leisurely back to the house. "I just never thought about it."
"They call vampires the 'lonely ones' 'cause we don't fit in anywhere." Spike lit a cigarette and watched the flame dance off the end of the silver lighter. "Demons don't want us 'cause we're part human, humans don't want us 'cause we're part demon. Stick with other vamps mostly, then if we decide we wanna go good- well, humans and demons still won't like us, just for different reasons."
Half-human. What am I? All human outside, part ghost inside, part undead inside, part angel? No, angels are probably more optimistic. "I like you." She smiled at him.
"Yeah?" He grinned and chuckled out a puff of gray. "Like you, too, Luv."
"Half and half. Freaks. Both of us." She didn't feel nearly as depressed when she said that this time, and she'd had lots of practice thinking she was a freak. It always hurt more than this.
"Like peanut butter cups."
"They were awesome."
"No, you an' me, we're like peanut butter cups. One kind of shell, different kind of filling."
"But both delicious." She nodded sagely
"Slayer..." Gonna get me started. What the hell is she on, some sort of secret, innocent but seductive drug?
"What?" She turned to him, eyes suddenly kittenish.
"Are you havin' me on?"
"No." She answered honestly, without even needing to think about her answer.
Then what's this mean? You my girl? Can I remind you how much I love you? Can I ask you to dinner, can I ask you to bed? His mind was rushing along, and his eyes were frozen, freeze locked to hers.
Buffy saw it, saw all the questions in him, because she started to think about them herself. And as good as being with him was, the more seriously she missed him, the more troubling thoughts emerged, the more old wounds taunted her, and she resisted thinking too hard at all, about anything.
"You really meant it?"
"Yes." Mean what, what's he going to ask? What am I going to say?
Don't ask. She has a way of simply letting you know, don't you see that now? "You think I'm delicious?" His eyes twinkled faintly as he asked a simpler, more innocent and playful question.
She pushed the cigarette from his hand, and stomped it under her shoe as they reached the porch. "I'm sure. Could I double check though?"
He barely concealed his delight, keeping his expression cool and smirkingly confident with an effort. "Any time."
"Then I'll be checking a lot." She wound her wrists up over his shoulders and crossed them lazily behind his neck.
See? Question unasked, but question answered. She wants more of me, more of us, and that's all I really need to know.
More of him, more of that faintly mentholated and nicotine taste, more of him pulling me against his chest and snuggling me up, making the rest of the hell on earth fade away.
She shifted, moving closer. Arms didn't seem to pull him close enough, or she didn't seem to feel close enough. Her foot nudged its way up his faded black denim pant leg, vaguely wondering, Where is my leg going? Oh, who cares, it makes him grab me tighter... Buffy let herself make a small noise, a small, desperate noise.
Since when does she make that sound? That hungry little noise? Poor kitten, you need to find a lap to curl up on. Maybe a scratching post as well.
Holy crap, that can't be- oh no, its a stake in his pocket. Wait, that's not his pocket, is it?
Should stop her, she's getting dangerously close to- oh. Guess I'm a bit late for that, aren't I?
He's not a tree, stop climbing him! Buffy resolutely dropped her knee from where it had wandered, up to rest between his thighs. Hard, muscle-y, perfect to lean on thighs.
Her knee is about two inches away from the point where I can't pretend it's easy to control myself around her. I have to leave right now.
He has to go right now.
Why aren't I going?
Why aren't I pushing him away?
His tongue, as talented as any serpent's, found an incredibly sensitive spot on her inner cheek, just as her thumb accidentally grazed a soft spot on his throat.
Oh, who cares?
Eventually though, intoxicated senses swam up for some lucidity. "Well, Slayer. Satisfied?"
"Yep, definitely a ten on the delish-ometer." Buffy flushed and stepped away. "Thanks."
"You don't have to keep thanking me."
"But you like it when I do." She was surprised to see the facade she'd watched so often crack fall apart in a completely new way. The hard face twisted into a half-bashful, utterly smitten silly smile. The voice that could be so dark and raspy, or comforting and factual as it soothed her, was a deep chuckle with something shy underneath it.
"Yeah... I do." He confessed. Bloody hell, I'm just one step away from sayin' "Aw shucks". Pull yourself together, man!
She sighed a deep, contented sigh, and gave him one of her bright, glowing grins, the kind both of them had forgotten she had in her repertoire. "You're pretty awesome, Spike. You turned a totally crappy night into one of the best I've ever had just with some candy bars and kisses. Pretty kick ass."
"Gotta keep up with you, don't I?" He winked.
"Guess so. See you tomorrow?"
"Absolutely. Maybe I'll bring you something else you like."
"Just bring you, and I'll be happy." She smiled and ducked inside the house, breathless and surprised at her own words. Half-dazed and high on kisses and chocolate, she floated up the stairs, wrapped in a cloud of badness-blocking happiness.
Had she looked back outside she would have seen Spike walking slowly across the lawn, back towards the rough end of town, head up, shoulders down and back, smile plastered to his face. Entranced. By her.
As it was, she didn't to see that. She tossed herself happily into bed, humming softly.
Next door, Dawn lifted her head from the pillow at the sound of a door shutting and then an unfamiliar, faint sound. Buffy. Coming in late. Humming? Yes, humming something like an upbeat waltz, something probably ingrained in her head from watching too many ice capades. Dawn snuggled back into her sleep with a grin. I don't know what he did, but I'm so giving Spike a high-five tomorrow.
"Hey, you're back. You in for the five card tourney?" A voice addressed Spike as he prowled into a secluded corner of Willy's pool table area.
"Hm? Oh, Clem, hey." Spike looked past his poker buddy. No M'Fashnik yet. "Nah, I'm not playin' much these days. Got out of it over the summer. Fresh out of kittens, too."
"I understand. I only play in here now, where Willy keeps the stakes- oh sorry." The floppy skinned demon leaning on the wall beside Spike turned a shade of mottled pink at his choice of words, but Spike didn't even notice them. "I mean, where Willy's house rules are reasonable. Some new 'boss' on the scene started playing purebreds only. Around here! Can you believe that?"
"Crazy world." Spike muttered absently, eyes scanning the room. Dammit, what if the little banker wouldn't play ball? What if Mr. Mercenary broke him in half for that, and then Buffy would invariably find out and kill him, for setting it all in motion. He really should start thinking with his head instead of his heart a bit more if he wanted this to go the distance. "You seen a M'Fashnik in here tonight?"
"Not since I came in."
"Hm. You in the game, you better get goin'." Spike prodded. Here to wait for a deal, not for the socializing, Clem, take the hint...
The hint was left where it was dropped. "Oh, I'm not playing tonight, I'm fixing the sink in the john."
"Really now?" Spike suddenly became much more interested in pursuing this conversation. Although a little warning bell did go off in his head. This many easy and beneficial coincidences had to have a horribly terrible price, cosmically and karmically speaking. Or even in simple gambling terms, his luck was sure to turn.
Wait. It has turned. This is the good run, I had the bad run. Buffy's had the bad run. An' it's not like it's all fallin' into my lap, I've had to work for it, and she's fightin' to keep her head up every moment she's here. Won't hurt to ask.
"Handy with a wrench are you, Clem?" Spike inquired.
"Everyone on my dad's side is an electrician." Clem popped open a flap of skin on his cheek, showed something wormy and hissing moving about. "We have a natural affinity with shocks and wires." Something blue zinged inside the pouch of flesh before it closed. "But we're pretty good at nesthold repairs. My parents are retired in Alta Vista and they have the best nest in the city. All built and wired by hand, family job."
"Fascinating." Spike said with less than genuine interest. "Well, I'm workin' on a little project myself, and I could use someone with expertise in the area of DIY." Clem puffed out his pudgy chest and nodded. "D'you think you might be able to help me do a- um," what's it called ? oh right, "full copper refit?"
Clem grinned. "Finally taking your crypt from gothic to modern?"
"Nah, it's for a human friend."
Clem's grin disappeared. "Not that little skinless bag you've been chasing?"
Spike's eyes blazed with their own sort of blue shocks. "You watch your mouth!" He barked. Then dropped his voice and muttered from the corner of his grimly set lips. "How do you know 'bout her?"
"Oh c'mon man, everyone knows. Falling for a human, turning on your own kind..." Clem shook his head.
Spike laughed maliciously. "We do that, Clem. All of us. Demons are usually evil, turncoat bastards, and vampires are the worst, 'cause we play on both sides of the line, human and demon." Clem shrugged. "An' on the subject of my friend, I happen to think she's a very attractive woman." His eyes flickered a warning. "She could use a little help, an' I like to be 'helpful'."
Clem must not have recognized the little edge, being a naturally sweet natured and jovial type, not used to threats, hinted at or unspoken. "Well, I know enough about plumbing, and I'd help you out, but I'm afraid I'd gag the whole time I was there." He shivered. "That skin is just too tight to my way of thinking."
Spike's vampire visage emerged. "Keep thinking that way and I'm gonna rip open your face." Clem looked surprised, but not worried. His face was designed for that. Spike continued speaking evenly, "Then I'm gonna tear out everything inside of it."
Clem stood ramrod straight and looked horrified. "Take it easy, Spike. You keep acting like that to the nicer demons, and they're gonna get rough."
Spike sighed through gritted teeth. It wasn't Clem himself making him act hot headed, it was the slurs against Buffy. And Clem was pulling a double standard anyway, vamps were every bit as tight skinned. He was probably just antsy around humans. "Look, you ever been in love, Clem?"
"I have a girlfriend." He shot back defensively, clearly thrown off balance.
"Really?" Spike read defensiveness as "No, but I want you to think I do."
"Yes. She's just-she's not local. She's an Unseelie." Clem replied.
"Oh, guys like you, always the shy shape shifters and the invisible Unseelie." Spike mocked.
Clem huffed and confessed in a slightly embarrassed undertone, "Fine, no, I haven't been in love, I don't have a girlfriend."
"Well, look Clem." Spike put a friendly arm around him, then dropped his voice into a pitch black threatening tone. "If you ever are, you know you could do anything in the world for her- and gut anyone who talks badly about her. Even if it means you're gonna get ganged up on an' get the shit kicked out of you by the 'nice guys', because she matters most."
"Ahh." Clem nodded stiffly, instantly understanding- and instantly starting to see his life flashing before his eyes.
"You don't forgive insults to her lightly." The arm tightened menacingly, and Clem found himself looking into dark yellow eyes instead of the blue of a moment ago as Spike released him.
Clem nodded again, and spoke in a voice considerably higher and more wavery than normal, "Unless someone were to do a really nice favor for her?"
"Like a major household repair?"
"Like immediately?"
"Like possibly tomorrow. Only if you'd like, of course."
"Absolutely. A friend of Spike's is a friend of mine." Clem shared his rapidly revised sentiment.
"You, Sir, are a prince among repairmen."
"I'll give you my number."
"Thanks, mate." Spike was all smiles and pats on the back. "I'll call you when I've got the go ahead. Ah." Spike waved as the M'Fashnik demon came in, smiling and holding a thick white envelope. " 'Scuse me, Clem. I've gotta go do my victory lap."
To be continued...
