Part Two
Tied On
They tried to be quiet, but the cans clunked heavily against each other as their movements jarred the pantry shelves. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, her arms around his neck. He snaked one of his hands through her hair and leaned against the wall with the other. The air in the confined space was getting close. They hadn't bothered to turn the lights on. He caressed her neck with his lips, taking in her scent and the warmth of her body in one heady rush of lust. She moaned quietly, suddenly wishing the house empty.
Though she probably couldn't consciously articulate it, the confined space seemed to concentrate her attention on the sensation. Subtleties were intensified. The heedful of distractions separating her from really feeling disappeared. Like the barely discernable sounds from the other room or the crack of light coming in under the door, her problems hardly registered.
He always did this to her. Focusing her mind, body and emotions into a single need, which shot through her at the moment of release. When she first came back to life, in her alienation from everything, she was able to find solace in talking to him. It was in the way he focused on her every word and expression, making the world recede. Later, when they got more physical the two of them fell into a void together blocking out anything but pure need. It was probably not the right way to deal with how unbearable life had become, but it worked for a while. It put a safe distance between her and the emptiness. It was a quiet place where she could watch the world whiz by in peace. Eventually the time she spent submerged, away even from him, lessened. She started to fit in again with reality. Then she realized that she wanted him even when anomie wasn't terrifying her. She started wishing he were around even when intimacy was impossible.
His hands darted under her blouse, caressing her bare skin while they kissed. She gripped his shoulders and leaned back allowing him room to move while she ground her hips against him. After a few more gasping, torturous minutes they looked at each other, realizing that they were at a point of no return. They realized that they would be missed. One last deep kiss and she unwound herself, ran her hand down his arm longingly, almost unconsciously, and turned to open the door.
***
When they emerged, the kitchen was full. Everybody was perched on stools or leaning against the counters, munching snacks and chatting with each other. Xander was telling a very animated story to Clem, who seemed rapt. Anya stood there looking a bit bored, as if she had heard it before. Dawn was listening to Tara and Willow discussing their literature professor and exchanging theories about the hapless Triumvirate's whereabouts. Buffy headed over to get a beer from the fridge when she noticed that Spike wasn't in the room. Then the music changed and he bellowed from the dining room, "Game on!"
Dawn jerked to attention and did her little happy dance while still seated. Obviously she had been looking forward to this for some time. * I hope Spike didn't hype her up for this too much. She's probably going to lose her allowance in the first hour.* Her younger sister grabbed the two witches' arms and started dragging them into the dining room in mid-sentence.
"What the hell is this we're listening to? Doesn't sound like your usual crap, Spike." Xander asked as he grabbed a seat at the table.
Spike looked at him in half-feigned disgust. "Let me guess, you've never heard of Sam and Dave. Well, we're going to listen to proper gambling music and since my stuff has been banned I dipped into Joyce's collection. Someone in this family has some taste in music."
"Sam and Dave as in *The Blues Brothers* Sam and Dave?" ventured Willow.
"Yes, you unwashed mob of Philistines. " He relented slightly, "I suppose they were a bit before your time."
"Since when do you listen to R&B? God, I haven't heard this album since I was little. Mom used to play this on laundry day. Remember Dawn?"
"Kinda. It sounds familiar. I think I was pretty young then." A pall fell on Dawn's face as she searched her memory for another moment spent with her mother.
Xander watched everyone in the room either grow uncomfortable and self-conscious or dreamily absent. In a semi-panic that another Scooby event would degenerate into an aching angst session, he looked to Anya. Surely she could be counted on to break the reverie with an inappropriate witticism. He made sport of her lack of tact, but it had its uses--especially with everyone so prone to brooding recently. He nudged her surreptitiously.
His fiancé smiled in acknowledgement and declared, "I've practiced with Monopoly, the other money-accrual game at the last party. I'm confident that this game will prove as rewarding, but with real money this time. The sooner we begin, the sooner I can begin the accumulation process. I have readied a number of jokes and anecdotes to help you enjoy losing. But I want to start now." She nodded enthusiastically.
Spike caught on, "Right, we only have the one table but it's plenty big. We'll have four at this end, four at that. Got to have a low stakes game for the beginners. That's me, Dawn...who else?"
"Oh, I am all about low stakes! You know, with the poverty and not having played before," Buffy offered.
"That's three. Anyone?" Spike looked around.
"I'll be the fourth. Guess I'm more of a computer solitaire gal than card shark. Besides, I like hanging with Dawn," said Willow, grinning.
"Right then, so that's the love birds, Clem and Tara at the other end."
The two games proceeded with all the practiced bluffing, devious strategies and precise betting of a toddler's tea party. Anya, though well versed in other forms of wealth procurement, never really managed to successfully put on a poker face. After a few unsuccessful attempts at gutsy play, she quickly became the 'rock' of her group. Though several times she pulled a successful bluff by thinking her hand was much better than it was and acting accordingly. The players were frankly puzzled by Clem's betting strategies. It almost seemed as if the money didn't matter to him at all. Xander seemed much more concerned that his ultracapitalist fiance would settle into a losing streak and throw a tantrum he was far too distracted by advising her and tempering her moods to play properly. Unsurprisingly, Tara was running the table.
Spike caught Buffy eyeing her friends in the other game, and looking at Tara's towering mesa of chips with a bewildered expression. Spike leaned over and whispered, "the quiet ones can really get rolling when they want. She's got every one of their tells by now. And that dead-eye doesn't look much different than her normal expression, does it?" She nodded slightly, watching Tara rake in another pot. "Still waters, huh?" she marveled.
Buffy was pretty disappointed so far. Spike kept switching through games in order to keep Dawn amused and teach her all the different variations. They flew through games of five card draw, several variations of stud, and games replete with wilds with odd names like Sixty-nine, 'Tweens, Whores and Fours, Guts, Texas Guts, Baseball, Football, Softball, Criss-Cross, Bingo, Black Mariah, Mad Dog and Mississippi Rollover. It seemed to go on forever. Just as she was getting the betting conventions and wilds straight from Heinz Fifty-Seven they would move on to Anaconda. Still, Dawn seemed to be having fun.
"What next? No Peek...Volleyball... with Suicide Kings... One Eyed Jacks... and a High-Low Split?"
Spike looked at her askance and started dealing, solemnly intoning, "No peek. Anyone looks at your hand, pay a buck and get the f..." he looked up at Dawn, skittishly. "Well... then you fold."
Buffy glared at him, incredulous. "Geez, is that even a game? I was just spouting randomly."
He paused in mid-deal. "Well, I thought it was a bit heavy on the wilds but, you know, I'll deal anything you like."
"Can't we just have something simple? I almost stayed in on a pair of sixes when we were playing Three Five Seven a while ago because I though we were still on Sixty-nine."
"Sure, luv." He raked in the cards and started shuffling again. "Though technically speaking you can stay on a pair of sixes in Three Five Seven, especially if you are in the catbird seat."
"See, this isn't helping Spike. Half the time I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Buffy, it's easy." Dawn declared with a sigh. "The catbird seat is the second to last to call. It is the perfect bluffing spot. See, if no one else is in, then after you only one person can stop you. You are just guaranteed to get a leg or an easy win, since the odds of that one person having a killer hand are really low."
Willow looked impressed. "Please tell me these analytical skills are not just rearing their head at the card table." She started imitating Mr. Spock, badly, "Your logic is most accurate young human."
Buffy started to feel a bit defensive. "Her grades are good now that things are settled. She's all set for the Honor Roll."
"You lot have no idea how easy you have it. Try six years of Greek, and that's classical Greek, mind. None of this 'Do you know the way to the bus station' conversational nonsense. Bloody postmodernism."
Willow scoffed loudly. "Did you take much linear algebra back then, any programming or molecular biology?" She paused for effect, then rolled her eyes. "Yeah, didn't think so."
"Fine Red, your deal. I'm having a smoke."
"Its not polite to smoke in the middle of everything. You're supposed to wait until your deal."
"No. It's polite to wait for *a* deal." He didn't even glance backwards. Willow looked to Buffy, shaking her head. Her friend just shrugged.
"Fine, well, I wanted snacks anyway," Willow huffed.
"Yeah, I could use a break, too." Buffy sighed as she rose. "I think I have the seat of this chair permanently impressed on my ass. Wait, did I say that aloud?" She sighed again, "Sorry Dawn."
Dawn was worried, but not about the swearing. Heck, you can say ass on TV now. Her sister seemed drawn and tired almost all the time now, even when they were having fun. *She's not getting enough sleep. Saving the world is a fulltime job. I wish the stupid old Watcher's Council would figure that out already.*
"That's okay Buffy. I've gotten the 'vulgarity is the mark of poor breeding and coarse women' speech from Spike often enough. I don't think you've corrupted me yet. Not completely."
All of a sudden, her older sister jerked towards the door, shushing everyone and gesturing for silence. Xander threw his cards down and turned off the stereo. Suddenly, they could all hear it.
"Something's got Spike!" Buffy hissed, striding towards the door. "Get me weapons, now."
To be continued
Tied On
They tried to be quiet, but the cans clunked heavily against each other as their movements jarred the pantry shelves. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, her arms around his neck. He snaked one of his hands through her hair and leaned against the wall with the other. The air in the confined space was getting close. They hadn't bothered to turn the lights on. He caressed her neck with his lips, taking in her scent and the warmth of her body in one heady rush of lust. She moaned quietly, suddenly wishing the house empty.
Though she probably couldn't consciously articulate it, the confined space seemed to concentrate her attention on the sensation. Subtleties were intensified. The heedful of distractions separating her from really feeling disappeared. Like the barely discernable sounds from the other room or the crack of light coming in under the door, her problems hardly registered.
He always did this to her. Focusing her mind, body and emotions into a single need, which shot through her at the moment of release. When she first came back to life, in her alienation from everything, she was able to find solace in talking to him. It was in the way he focused on her every word and expression, making the world recede. Later, when they got more physical the two of them fell into a void together blocking out anything but pure need. It was probably not the right way to deal with how unbearable life had become, but it worked for a while. It put a safe distance between her and the emptiness. It was a quiet place where she could watch the world whiz by in peace. Eventually the time she spent submerged, away even from him, lessened. She started to fit in again with reality. Then she realized that she wanted him even when anomie wasn't terrifying her. She started wishing he were around even when intimacy was impossible.
His hands darted under her blouse, caressing her bare skin while they kissed. She gripped his shoulders and leaned back allowing him room to move while she ground her hips against him. After a few more gasping, torturous minutes they looked at each other, realizing that they were at a point of no return. They realized that they would be missed. One last deep kiss and she unwound herself, ran her hand down his arm longingly, almost unconsciously, and turned to open the door.
***
When they emerged, the kitchen was full. Everybody was perched on stools or leaning against the counters, munching snacks and chatting with each other. Xander was telling a very animated story to Clem, who seemed rapt. Anya stood there looking a bit bored, as if she had heard it before. Dawn was listening to Tara and Willow discussing their literature professor and exchanging theories about the hapless Triumvirate's whereabouts. Buffy headed over to get a beer from the fridge when she noticed that Spike wasn't in the room. Then the music changed and he bellowed from the dining room, "Game on!"
Dawn jerked to attention and did her little happy dance while still seated. Obviously she had been looking forward to this for some time. * I hope Spike didn't hype her up for this too much. She's probably going to lose her allowance in the first hour.* Her younger sister grabbed the two witches' arms and started dragging them into the dining room in mid-sentence.
"What the hell is this we're listening to? Doesn't sound like your usual crap, Spike." Xander asked as he grabbed a seat at the table.
Spike looked at him in half-feigned disgust. "Let me guess, you've never heard of Sam and Dave. Well, we're going to listen to proper gambling music and since my stuff has been banned I dipped into Joyce's collection. Someone in this family has some taste in music."
"Sam and Dave as in *The Blues Brothers* Sam and Dave?" ventured Willow.
"Yes, you unwashed mob of Philistines. " He relented slightly, "I suppose they were a bit before your time."
"Since when do you listen to R&B? God, I haven't heard this album since I was little. Mom used to play this on laundry day. Remember Dawn?"
"Kinda. It sounds familiar. I think I was pretty young then." A pall fell on Dawn's face as she searched her memory for another moment spent with her mother.
Xander watched everyone in the room either grow uncomfortable and self-conscious or dreamily absent. In a semi-panic that another Scooby event would degenerate into an aching angst session, he looked to Anya. Surely she could be counted on to break the reverie with an inappropriate witticism. He made sport of her lack of tact, but it had its uses--especially with everyone so prone to brooding recently. He nudged her surreptitiously.
His fiancé smiled in acknowledgement and declared, "I've practiced with Monopoly, the other money-accrual game at the last party. I'm confident that this game will prove as rewarding, but with real money this time. The sooner we begin, the sooner I can begin the accumulation process. I have readied a number of jokes and anecdotes to help you enjoy losing. But I want to start now." She nodded enthusiastically.
Spike caught on, "Right, we only have the one table but it's plenty big. We'll have four at this end, four at that. Got to have a low stakes game for the beginners. That's me, Dawn...who else?"
"Oh, I am all about low stakes! You know, with the poverty and not having played before," Buffy offered.
"That's three. Anyone?" Spike looked around.
"I'll be the fourth. Guess I'm more of a computer solitaire gal than card shark. Besides, I like hanging with Dawn," said Willow, grinning.
"Right then, so that's the love birds, Clem and Tara at the other end."
The two games proceeded with all the practiced bluffing, devious strategies and precise betting of a toddler's tea party. Anya, though well versed in other forms of wealth procurement, never really managed to successfully put on a poker face. After a few unsuccessful attempts at gutsy play, she quickly became the 'rock' of her group. Though several times she pulled a successful bluff by thinking her hand was much better than it was and acting accordingly. The players were frankly puzzled by Clem's betting strategies. It almost seemed as if the money didn't matter to him at all. Xander seemed much more concerned that his ultracapitalist fiance would settle into a losing streak and throw a tantrum he was far too distracted by advising her and tempering her moods to play properly. Unsurprisingly, Tara was running the table.
Spike caught Buffy eyeing her friends in the other game, and looking at Tara's towering mesa of chips with a bewildered expression. Spike leaned over and whispered, "the quiet ones can really get rolling when they want. She's got every one of their tells by now. And that dead-eye doesn't look much different than her normal expression, does it?" She nodded slightly, watching Tara rake in another pot. "Still waters, huh?" she marveled.
Buffy was pretty disappointed so far. Spike kept switching through games in order to keep Dawn amused and teach her all the different variations. They flew through games of five card draw, several variations of stud, and games replete with wilds with odd names like Sixty-nine, 'Tweens, Whores and Fours, Guts, Texas Guts, Baseball, Football, Softball, Criss-Cross, Bingo, Black Mariah, Mad Dog and Mississippi Rollover. It seemed to go on forever. Just as she was getting the betting conventions and wilds straight from Heinz Fifty-Seven they would move on to Anaconda. Still, Dawn seemed to be having fun.
"What next? No Peek...Volleyball... with Suicide Kings... One Eyed Jacks... and a High-Low Split?"
Spike looked at her askance and started dealing, solemnly intoning, "No peek. Anyone looks at your hand, pay a buck and get the f..." he looked up at Dawn, skittishly. "Well... then you fold."
Buffy glared at him, incredulous. "Geez, is that even a game? I was just spouting randomly."
He paused in mid-deal. "Well, I thought it was a bit heavy on the wilds but, you know, I'll deal anything you like."
"Can't we just have something simple? I almost stayed in on a pair of sixes when we were playing Three Five Seven a while ago because I though we were still on Sixty-nine."
"Sure, luv." He raked in the cards and started shuffling again. "Though technically speaking you can stay on a pair of sixes in Three Five Seven, especially if you are in the catbird seat."
"See, this isn't helping Spike. Half the time I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Buffy, it's easy." Dawn declared with a sigh. "The catbird seat is the second to last to call. It is the perfect bluffing spot. See, if no one else is in, then after you only one person can stop you. You are just guaranteed to get a leg or an easy win, since the odds of that one person having a killer hand are really low."
Willow looked impressed. "Please tell me these analytical skills are not just rearing their head at the card table." She started imitating Mr. Spock, badly, "Your logic is most accurate young human."
Buffy started to feel a bit defensive. "Her grades are good now that things are settled. She's all set for the Honor Roll."
"You lot have no idea how easy you have it. Try six years of Greek, and that's classical Greek, mind. None of this 'Do you know the way to the bus station' conversational nonsense. Bloody postmodernism."
Willow scoffed loudly. "Did you take much linear algebra back then, any programming or molecular biology?" She paused for effect, then rolled her eyes. "Yeah, didn't think so."
"Fine Red, your deal. I'm having a smoke."
"Its not polite to smoke in the middle of everything. You're supposed to wait until your deal."
"No. It's polite to wait for *a* deal." He didn't even glance backwards. Willow looked to Buffy, shaking her head. Her friend just shrugged.
"Fine, well, I wanted snacks anyway," Willow huffed.
"Yeah, I could use a break, too." Buffy sighed as she rose. "I think I have the seat of this chair permanently impressed on my ass. Wait, did I say that aloud?" She sighed again, "Sorry Dawn."
Dawn was worried, but not about the swearing. Heck, you can say ass on TV now. Her sister seemed drawn and tired almost all the time now, even when they were having fun. *She's not getting enough sleep. Saving the world is a fulltime job. I wish the stupid old Watcher's Council would figure that out already.*
"That's okay Buffy. I've gotten the 'vulgarity is the mark of poor breeding and coarse women' speech from Spike often enough. I don't think you've corrupted me yet. Not completely."
All of a sudden, her older sister jerked towards the door, shushing everyone and gesturing for silence. Xander threw his cards down and turned off the stereo. Suddenly, they could all hear it.
"Something's got Spike!" Buffy hissed, striding towards the door. "Get me weapons, now."
To be continued