DAY FOUR
The next morning, Buffy did as she was told. She put on her bikini and a pair of shorts, ate some breakfast with her sister before school, grabbed a large beach towel and a liter of water, and rode the cab she had called to the Pacific Ocean.
As a rule, Buffy did not enjoy relaxing. It was her opinion that relaxing was for people who had too much time on their hands; people without preordained destinies to fulfill. Since she had become the slayer, any time she caught herself almost relaxing she immediately felt guilty. She could always think of at least ten other things she should be doing.
When she removed her shorts and lay down on her beach towel, her initial reaction was the usual barrage of thoughts about all the things she should be doing: laundry, grocery shopping, researching, training. But then something strange happened. As the sun warmed her skin and the ocean's breeze brushed over her, everything else began to slowly fall away. After a while, she no longer heard the glee-filled voices of the children building sandcastles fifteen feet away from her. She didn't hear the screeching of the teenaged girls as their teenaged boyfriends carried them kicking and screaming into the water. All she heard were the crashing waves, an occasional, high-pitched "reet-reet" from a seagull and the roar of the breeze in her ears. Without consciously trying, all she focused on was the heat of the sun on her skin and the feel of the gentle wind as it caressed her body. The two forces seemed to be in sync with each other. When the sun's heat began to grow too intense, the wind picked up and brushed it away. Then the wind would back off, allowing the rays to envelop her body and cleanse her mind.
As late morning turned into early afternoon, the sun grew hotter. At one point the sun felt so hot on Buffy's skin that she almost broke her trance and went in the water to cool off. But just as she was thinking she couldn't endure one more second of the intense heat, the breeze, as if on cue, washed over her and her body felt heavy again.
After a little while, relaxation very nearly gave way to sleep, but not quite. It was while she was in this state of semi-consciousness that the lull between breezes grew longer, and the sunlight seemed to pin her mercilessly to her towel as she lay on her stomach, now. Some part of her knew she could get up if she really wanted to, but it would take a supreme effort. And besides, a tiny part of her that usually remained buried deep in her subconscious thrilled to the idea of feeling helpless.
As the wind seemed to take a vacation of its own, Buffy let the sun take her completely. She felt intense heat simultaneously on the back of her head and on her calves. Then the heat climbed down her head to her neck and shoulders and rose up from her calves to the backs of her thighs. It caressed her like a gentle lover, spreading its fingers across her back and lapping at the insides of her thighs. The currents of heat spread out from her back and nuzzled the tender sides of her breasts. As flaming tongues licked their way up the insides of her thighs and gently nipped at her bikini bottom, she felt as if electric charges were coursing through her body.
Buffy flipped from her stomach to her back, and let the sensations take over her. She felt rough, hot hands fondling her breasts and setting her erect nipples on fire. She felt warm kisses between her legs as the sun continued its relentless seduction of her. She wanted to writhe in agony and pleasure but invisible hands restrained her arms and the sun pressed against her body like a weight holding her still. Just then, a cool breeze brushed over her, caressing her aching nipples and trying, but not succeeding to push her lover away from its assault on her hot center. Her breathing became labored as invisible fingers coaxed their way inside her, forcing her legs apart. She grasped handfuls of sand as an orgasm racked her body, and the sun seemed to explode inside her.
The next breeze, much cooler than the last, succeeded in chasing her lover away. She felt a coolness and a calmness take over her, and as she became aware, once again, of her surroundings, she heard the laughter of the children, the screeching and hollering of the teenagers, the bustle of parents gathering up kids and belongings and shaking out towels and blankets full of sand. Buffy decided she had had quite enough 'relaxing' for one day, thank you very much, and so she took a big swallow from her bottle of water, put on her shorts and her sandals, scooped up her towel and headed back home.
-------------------------------------------------------------
That night, with the tracking spell in place, Buffy, Xander, Anya and Willow went to the place where they had seen the diberus. Buffy closed her hand around the silvery gem she carried and closed her eyes. "That way," she said almost immediately, and pointed west.
They walked until they came to a new housing plan near the ocean. A few of the houses were finished and had families living in them, but most were still under construction. Buffy stopped at a plot of ground where construction had not yet begun. She looked around, clearly disturbed. "It stopped," she said.
"What stopped?" Xander asked.
"The scent," Buffy answered.
"Well, what do you feel?" Willow asked.
Buffy looked at Willow in frustration. "Nothing. Just . . . nothing."
They decided to look around despite the scent's mysterious disappearance, but they found no sign of Ulog. And so they decided to call it a night.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Medina's directions were excellent, and Spike was able to find the base where Riley was stationed. He located Riley, but other soldiers always surrounded the boy. *Seems he's the one in charge,* Spike thought, and that amused him. He followed him for a while, but he grew tired of waiting for Riley to be alone. And so he wrote a quick note, wrapped it around a rock and threw it at Riley when Riley was about ten paces in front of his 'troop.' Riley said, "Ow!" then looked around quickly. Then he looked down and saw the paper-covered rock. He picked it up, uncrumpled the paper and read the note. He looked around again, seeing no one but his men, then moved along to complete his sweep with his men.
At 1:00a.m., when everyone else was finally asleep, Riley crept out of his quarters and walked to the outhouse. Once there, he walked thirty paces straight back from it and away from the camp. He saw the glow of Spike's cigarette before he could make out the dark figure.
"How did you find me?" Riley asked him first.
"I have my sources," Spike said arrogantly.
"Whatever," Riley said, "So, your note said something about Buffy and that it's important. This better be good."
Spike made his face as straight and sincere as he could in preparation for the whopping lie he was about to tell. "Buffy's in trouble and she needs your help." It nearly killed him to say this.
"Buffy? Buffy never needed my help," Riley responded.
"Well she does this time," Spike gritted his teeth for a second, "She asked for you."
Riley thought about this. Why would Spike want to take him back to Sunnydale? To Buffy? He couldn't come up with a single reason. He considered the possibility that Spike might actually be telling the truth. He looked at him but he couldn't read his face.
"Well, I can't just leave," Riley finally said, "I'm on a mission."
Spike decided to play his trump card. "Look, Buffy's had a hard time of it, lately, what with her mother's death and all."
Riley couldn't have been more shocked than if Spike had grabbed him and started waltzing with him. "I thought Mrs. Summers was cured," he finally said.
"Apparently not," Spike said, "Joyce had an aneurysm about six months ago." His voice softened at the memory.
"Poor Buffy . . . and Dawn," Riley started, "But I still can't just pick up and leave. I'll fly out in a few days."
"Alright, then," Spike said. He'd waited this long. He could wait a few more days to see Buffy reject Riley and see the error of her ways.
The next morning, Buffy did as she was told. She put on her bikini and a pair of shorts, ate some breakfast with her sister before school, grabbed a large beach towel and a liter of water, and rode the cab she had called to the Pacific Ocean.
As a rule, Buffy did not enjoy relaxing. It was her opinion that relaxing was for people who had too much time on their hands; people without preordained destinies to fulfill. Since she had become the slayer, any time she caught herself almost relaxing she immediately felt guilty. She could always think of at least ten other things she should be doing.
When she removed her shorts and lay down on her beach towel, her initial reaction was the usual barrage of thoughts about all the things she should be doing: laundry, grocery shopping, researching, training. But then something strange happened. As the sun warmed her skin and the ocean's breeze brushed over her, everything else began to slowly fall away. After a while, she no longer heard the glee-filled voices of the children building sandcastles fifteen feet away from her. She didn't hear the screeching of the teenaged girls as their teenaged boyfriends carried them kicking and screaming into the water. All she heard were the crashing waves, an occasional, high-pitched "reet-reet" from a seagull and the roar of the breeze in her ears. Without consciously trying, all she focused on was the heat of the sun on her skin and the feel of the gentle wind as it caressed her body. The two forces seemed to be in sync with each other. When the sun's heat began to grow too intense, the wind picked up and brushed it away. Then the wind would back off, allowing the rays to envelop her body and cleanse her mind.
As late morning turned into early afternoon, the sun grew hotter. At one point the sun felt so hot on Buffy's skin that she almost broke her trance and went in the water to cool off. But just as she was thinking she couldn't endure one more second of the intense heat, the breeze, as if on cue, washed over her and her body felt heavy again.
After a little while, relaxation very nearly gave way to sleep, but not quite. It was while she was in this state of semi-consciousness that the lull between breezes grew longer, and the sunlight seemed to pin her mercilessly to her towel as she lay on her stomach, now. Some part of her knew she could get up if she really wanted to, but it would take a supreme effort. And besides, a tiny part of her that usually remained buried deep in her subconscious thrilled to the idea of feeling helpless.
As the wind seemed to take a vacation of its own, Buffy let the sun take her completely. She felt intense heat simultaneously on the back of her head and on her calves. Then the heat climbed down her head to her neck and shoulders and rose up from her calves to the backs of her thighs. It caressed her like a gentle lover, spreading its fingers across her back and lapping at the insides of her thighs. The currents of heat spread out from her back and nuzzled the tender sides of her breasts. As flaming tongues licked their way up the insides of her thighs and gently nipped at her bikini bottom, she felt as if electric charges were coursing through her body.
Buffy flipped from her stomach to her back, and let the sensations take over her. She felt rough, hot hands fondling her breasts and setting her erect nipples on fire. She felt warm kisses between her legs as the sun continued its relentless seduction of her. She wanted to writhe in agony and pleasure but invisible hands restrained her arms and the sun pressed against her body like a weight holding her still. Just then, a cool breeze brushed over her, caressing her aching nipples and trying, but not succeeding to push her lover away from its assault on her hot center. Her breathing became labored as invisible fingers coaxed their way inside her, forcing her legs apart. She grasped handfuls of sand as an orgasm racked her body, and the sun seemed to explode inside her.
The next breeze, much cooler than the last, succeeded in chasing her lover away. She felt a coolness and a calmness take over her, and as she became aware, once again, of her surroundings, she heard the laughter of the children, the screeching and hollering of the teenagers, the bustle of parents gathering up kids and belongings and shaking out towels and blankets full of sand. Buffy decided she had had quite enough 'relaxing' for one day, thank you very much, and so she took a big swallow from her bottle of water, put on her shorts and her sandals, scooped up her towel and headed back home.
-------------------------------------------------------------
That night, with the tracking spell in place, Buffy, Xander, Anya and Willow went to the place where they had seen the diberus. Buffy closed her hand around the silvery gem she carried and closed her eyes. "That way," she said almost immediately, and pointed west.
They walked until they came to a new housing plan near the ocean. A few of the houses were finished and had families living in them, but most were still under construction. Buffy stopped at a plot of ground where construction had not yet begun. She looked around, clearly disturbed. "It stopped," she said.
"What stopped?" Xander asked.
"The scent," Buffy answered.
"Well, what do you feel?" Willow asked.
Buffy looked at Willow in frustration. "Nothing. Just . . . nothing."
They decided to look around despite the scent's mysterious disappearance, but they found no sign of Ulog. And so they decided to call it a night.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Medina's directions were excellent, and Spike was able to find the base where Riley was stationed. He located Riley, but other soldiers always surrounded the boy. *Seems he's the one in charge,* Spike thought, and that amused him. He followed him for a while, but he grew tired of waiting for Riley to be alone. And so he wrote a quick note, wrapped it around a rock and threw it at Riley when Riley was about ten paces in front of his 'troop.' Riley said, "Ow!" then looked around quickly. Then he looked down and saw the paper-covered rock. He picked it up, uncrumpled the paper and read the note. He looked around again, seeing no one but his men, then moved along to complete his sweep with his men.
At 1:00a.m., when everyone else was finally asleep, Riley crept out of his quarters and walked to the outhouse. Once there, he walked thirty paces straight back from it and away from the camp. He saw the glow of Spike's cigarette before he could make out the dark figure.
"How did you find me?" Riley asked him first.
"I have my sources," Spike said arrogantly.
"Whatever," Riley said, "So, your note said something about Buffy and that it's important. This better be good."
Spike made his face as straight and sincere as he could in preparation for the whopping lie he was about to tell. "Buffy's in trouble and she needs your help." It nearly killed him to say this.
"Buffy? Buffy never needed my help," Riley responded.
"Well she does this time," Spike gritted his teeth for a second, "She asked for you."
Riley thought about this. Why would Spike want to take him back to Sunnydale? To Buffy? He couldn't come up with a single reason. He considered the possibility that Spike might actually be telling the truth. He looked at him but he couldn't read his face.
"Well, I can't just leave," Riley finally said, "I'm on a mission."
Spike decided to play his trump card. "Look, Buffy's had a hard time of it, lately, what with her mother's death and all."
Riley couldn't have been more shocked than if Spike had grabbed him and started waltzing with him. "I thought Mrs. Summers was cured," he finally said.
"Apparently not," Spike said, "Joyce had an aneurysm about six months ago." His voice softened at the memory.
"Poor Buffy . . . and Dawn," Riley started, "But I still can't just pick up and leave. I'll fly out in a few days."
"Alright, then," Spike said. He'd waited this long. He could wait a few more days to see Buffy reject Riley and see the error of her ways.