7.
And now he had them all exactly where he wanted them.
The idiot Xander just standing there, nowhere to go, so alone, all escape routes neatly sealed off. He could almost smell his fear, at least he might have been able to had his nostrils still been of the demon variety, instead of the low-grade human kind. He was looking around for his Anya now, looking for any kind of help, desperate, but she was out of it, long since despatched by a single masterful stroke. He could still picture her expression, total confusion, disbelief, followed by horror. God, this was sweet. This was what it was all about.
Then Giles had thought himself some kind of match for him, but how wrong had he been? It had taken exactly fifteen seconds for him to find out just how little he really knew about combat. Now he was down and out for the count too, fumbling at the carpet like a blind man. So, no change there. Just the two left to go now. The sweetest. The littlest Summers and then...her, and he was going to enjoy this, savour it. He could almost taste it already, his victory, heady like a good wine, how long it had been in coming and now it was almost upon him, almost.....
"Hey!" he frowned, suddenly furious, "Japan's mine! You can't have Japan!"
She grinned at him, all white teeth and golden hair, eyes sparkling with mischief,
"Snuck up on you there, while you were busy pounding Xander in the Steppes! Herald the conquering Summer's army!! We are victorious!!"
Then Dawn made the little blue horses dance, Buffy doing the trumpet. Bloody hell. Suddenly this game sucked.
"I don't think that's playing fair anyway."
He could hear the whine creeping into his voice, stamped it down.
"What? Kickin' yo' ass?"
The bit was getting too big for her boots now. It was bad enough losing to big sis, let alone having it rammed down his throat by Niblet here. She could do with a little discipline, show a bit of respect for her elders. He snorted,
"The two of you ganging up I mean. This is a game of world domination. Lonely are the brave and all that!"
Buffy swept the pieces off the table not without a touch of triumph, back into their box,
"What about the allies? World War II? Maybe I was America...and Dawn was like...England or something!"
"In which case you'd have spent the first hour hiding under the table pretending nothing was happening. Until the worst of it was over and you could come in, shoot a few dying Gerries and claim all the glory."
That was low. He knew it, glanced at Giles for support, saw him look pointedly at the curtains. Xander was shaking his head, full of disgust,
"I see. So now it's not enough to beat everyone else. You want to insult our heritage too? You are walking a very thin line, my man."
He rolled his eyes, felt in his pockets for a cigarette.
"The trouble with you lot is...Oy!"
What was she doing? That was his last one! And he hadn't even lit it yet! Watched her tear it up in tiny pieces, throw it into the empty fireplace.
"You're quitting. As of tonight."
Bloody great. First she stomped his ass all over Central Asia, now she was telling him what he could and couldn't put in his mouth. She flashed a warning look at him and he felt his anger melt, fast, like snow on a hot plate. God, she looked gorgeous when she got all self-righteous like that. He'd like to tell her what to put in her....
"So who's for cheesecake? Dawnie made it!"
A chorus of spectacularly unconvincing voices, making yummy sounds until the cook interjected, quietly confessional,
"I didn't really. I just said that. It's Entenman's"
Dessert was suddenly far more appealing. Buffy counted hands, went for the plates.
"So...who's for another hand of poker?"
Hope was dancing in Anya's eyes as she rattled the box of chips. Xander prised them out of her fingers with difficulty, tossed them, kissed her hands.
"Another night sweetie. You've had enough of everyone's money for one evening."
She sighed, petulant, sunk back into his arms,
"It's not fair. I won't be pregnant for much longer...and they won't let me win any more once I'm not."
Xander laughed, glanced round at their faces. Stopped cold,
"You were letting her win?"
Spike studied his fingernails. Giles cleared his throat,
"Well, she's very...."
"Delicate? She's not you know!"
"Actually...I was going to say scary."
Anya nodded, stroked his arm.
"I am scary. You should all be scared. The producing of new life is a...terrifying and miraculous process."
Dawn reached her hand up, for at least the fourth time, felt the bump.
"I still can't feel it kicking though. Are you sure it did?"
Anya grunted,
"It doesn't kick. It writhes. I think it may be reptile."
Xander's face was a picture. Spike tried vainly to hide the smirk, couldn't, went to see how the dessert was progressing. She was in the kitchen, he leant on the door frame, unnoticed.
He could watch her all night, sometimes had. From his night-time post by the fir tree, he could see her whole life, glimpsed through single yellow frames. Watching TV, reading, studying, brushing her hair at her night stand. It had felt so impossible then, that he could ever be there, in the picture with her. They had been separated, by light and dark, two distinct halves of the same whole, but he had so wanted it. To pass over, to move into the halo that surrounded her, become part of it. That had been his secret dream and his torment, for so long. And now?
"See, you're going to have to break yourself of that!"
He flushed, caught in the act. She'd known he was there all along of course. Stupid to think The Slayer could be crept up on.
"Sorry,"
funny how the word seemed to come so easily now,
"I wasn't...just seeing if you needed any help."
She smiled easily,
"There was a time when you wouldn't even have asked."
Was she teasing him now? She wasn't smiling but he could sense her enjoying this, making gentle fun of his newly sensitive side. She wiped the knife off with her finger,
"You sure you don't want some of this? It's good! I mean not salsa good but..."
He might have misunderstood her tone, but he didn't think so. Risked a step forward, a hand on the counter top.
"I don't know. Is it sweet?"
He saw her falter, the heat rise in her cheeks, the eyelashes go down. Was she scared of him suddenly? He felt a miserable lump begin to form in his throat, moved back a little. But then there it was again, the tilt of the head, that sparkle in her eye that couldn't be misinterpreted, could it?
"Sort of. It's sort of...bitter sweet."
God, this was like fucking medieval torture. His heart felt like it was going to jump right out of his chest, hammering behind his ribcage like a wild thing. Was she thinking the same thing he was? He thought he knew but then he didn't, couldn't tell if it was just hope trying to make something out of absolutely nothing. But if she wasn't, if she didn't, what the hell was she doing now? The hand coming out to his face, the finger still coated with cheesecake and now finding his lips, softly parting them. He found he'd lost all control of reason, stood there watching her face, her eyes hugely brown and luminous as he gently, slowly, sucked the tip clean, let her draw it back, glistening. Found his voice again finally, but no words.
"Sweet. Am I right?"
Was she asking him that, because maybe it was the voice in his head, the one he could hear over the roar, telling him to start breathing again before he passed out. He was pretty sure it was her, tried to answer.
"Mm hm."
Were they even words? Was that intelligible at all? He felt the blood returning slowly to his legs, his vision become a tad less blurry. Was this even happening or had he fallen asleep with the 'Magic Fingers' going again? Dawn's perky little voice yanked him back to reality,
"Is that everyone's? You not having any Spike? Sorry, William?"
And how was it she could look so innocent now? All serene and blondie curls, as if butter wouldn't melt in her hot little....
"He only wanted a taste. He'll try some another time."
And not even a look with that last one. They swirled out, the two Summers, bearing heaped plates for their other guests, not a backward glance to see why he wasn't following, why he remained firmly pressed against their kitchen counter top.
"Hey, Spike...I mean....er...Spwilliam...is there any maple syrup left out there?"
Idiot Xander and his insatiable sweet tooth. He glanced around, desperately, dreading the moment when everyone would pour back into the kitchen, discover his predicament. He spotted the syrup. And now what?
"Ye...ah!"
God, did that sound as odd to their ears as it did to his?
"I'll be...er...right there."
He looked around again, frantically searching for a tray, oven mitt, anything, glanced back at his trousers. Bloody hell. That bloody sadistic little minx. How much longer before this thing went down?
And now he had them all exactly where he wanted them.
The idiot Xander just standing there, nowhere to go, so alone, all escape routes neatly sealed off. He could almost smell his fear, at least he might have been able to had his nostrils still been of the demon variety, instead of the low-grade human kind. He was looking around for his Anya now, looking for any kind of help, desperate, but she was out of it, long since despatched by a single masterful stroke. He could still picture her expression, total confusion, disbelief, followed by horror. God, this was sweet. This was what it was all about.
Then Giles had thought himself some kind of match for him, but how wrong had he been? It had taken exactly fifteen seconds for him to find out just how little he really knew about combat. Now he was down and out for the count too, fumbling at the carpet like a blind man. So, no change there. Just the two left to go now. The sweetest. The littlest Summers and then...her, and he was going to enjoy this, savour it. He could almost taste it already, his victory, heady like a good wine, how long it had been in coming and now it was almost upon him, almost.....
"Hey!" he frowned, suddenly furious, "Japan's mine! You can't have Japan!"
She grinned at him, all white teeth and golden hair, eyes sparkling with mischief,
"Snuck up on you there, while you were busy pounding Xander in the Steppes! Herald the conquering Summer's army!! We are victorious!!"
Then Dawn made the little blue horses dance, Buffy doing the trumpet. Bloody hell. Suddenly this game sucked.
"I don't think that's playing fair anyway."
He could hear the whine creeping into his voice, stamped it down.
"What? Kickin' yo' ass?"
The bit was getting too big for her boots now. It was bad enough losing to big sis, let alone having it rammed down his throat by Niblet here. She could do with a little discipline, show a bit of respect for her elders. He snorted,
"The two of you ganging up I mean. This is a game of world domination. Lonely are the brave and all that!"
Buffy swept the pieces off the table not without a touch of triumph, back into their box,
"What about the allies? World War II? Maybe I was America...and Dawn was like...England or something!"
"In which case you'd have spent the first hour hiding under the table pretending nothing was happening. Until the worst of it was over and you could come in, shoot a few dying Gerries and claim all the glory."
That was low. He knew it, glanced at Giles for support, saw him look pointedly at the curtains. Xander was shaking his head, full of disgust,
"I see. So now it's not enough to beat everyone else. You want to insult our heritage too? You are walking a very thin line, my man."
He rolled his eyes, felt in his pockets for a cigarette.
"The trouble with you lot is...Oy!"
What was she doing? That was his last one! And he hadn't even lit it yet! Watched her tear it up in tiny pieces, throw it into the empty fireplace.
"You're quitting. As of tonight."
Bloody great. First she stomped his ass all over Central Asia, now she was telling him what he could and couldn't put in his mouth. She flashed a warning look at him and he felt his anger melt, fast, like snow on a hot plate. God, she looked gorgeous when she got all self-righteous like that. He'd like to tell her what to put in her....
"So who's for cheesecake? Dawnie made it!"
A chorus of spectacularly unconvincing voices, making yummy sounds until the cook interjected, quietly confessional,
"I didn't really. I just said that. It's Entenman's"
Dessert was suddenly far more appealing. Buffy counted hands, went for the plates.
"So...who's for another hand of poker?"
Hope was dancing in Anya's eyes as she rattled the box of chips. Xander prised them out of her fingers with difficulty, tossed them, kissed her hands.
"Another night sweetie. You've had enough of everyone's money for one evening."
She sighed, petulant, sunk back into his arms,
"It's not fair. I won't be pregnant for much longer...and they won't let me win any more once I'm not."
Xander laughed, glanced round at their faces. Stopped cold,
"You were letting her win?"
Spike studied his fingernails. Giles cleared his throat,
"Well, she's very...."
"Delicate? She's not you know!"
"Actually...I was going to say scary."
Anya nodded, stroked his arm.
"I am scary. You should all be scared. The producing of new life is a...terrifying and miraculous process."
Dawn reached her hand up, for at least the fourth time, felt the bump.
"I still can't feel it kicking though. Are you sure it did?"
Anya grunted,
"It doesn't kick. It writhes. I think it may be reptile."
Xander's face was a picture. Spike tried vainly to hide the smirk, couldn't, went to see how the dessert was progressing. She was in the kitchen, he leant on the door frame, unnoticed.
He could watch her all night, sometimes had. From his night-time post by the fir tree, he could see her whole life, glimpsed through single yellow frames. Watching TV, reading, studying, brushing her hair at her night stand. It had felt so impossible then, that he could ever be there, in the picture with her. They had been separated, by light and dark, two distinct halves of the same whole, but he had so wanted it. To pass over, to move into the halo that surrounded her, become part of it. That had been his secret dream and his torment, for so long. And now?
"See, you're going to have to break yourself of that!"
He flushed, caught in the act. She'd known he was there all along of course. Stupid to think The Slayer could be crept up on.
"Sorry,"
funny how the word seemed to come so easily now,
"I wasn't...just seeing if you needed any help."
She smiled easily,
"There was a time when you wouldn't even have asked."
Was she teasing him now? She wasn't smiling but he could sense her enjoying this, making gentle fun of his newly sensitive side. She wiped the knife off with her finger,
"You sure you don't want some of this? It's good! I mean not salsa good but..."
He might have misunderstood her tone, but he didn't think so. Risked a step forward, a hand on the counter top.
"I don't know. Is it sweet?"
He saw her falter, the heat rise in her cheeks, the eyelashes go down. Was she scared of him suddenly? He felt a miserable lump begin to form in his throat, moved back a little. But then there it was again, the tilt of the head, that sparkle in her eye that couldn't be misinterpreted, could it?
"Sort of. It's sort of...bitter sweet."
God, this was like fucking medieval torture. His heart felt like it was going to jump right out of his chest, hammering behind his ribcage like a wild thing. Was she thinking the same thing he was? He thought he knew but then he didn't, couldn't tell if it was just hope trying to make something out of absolutely nothing. But if she wasn't, if she didn't, what the hell was she doing now? The hand coming out to his face, the finger still coated with cheesecake and now finding his lips, softly parting them. He found he'd lost all control of reason, stood there watching her face, her eyes hugely brown and luminous as he gently, slowly, sucked the tip clean, let her draw it back, glistening. Found his voice again finally, but no words.
"Sweet. Am I right?"
Was she asking him that, because maybe it was the voice in his head, the one he could hear over the roar, telling him to start breathing again before he passed out. He was pretty sure it was her, tried to answer.
"Mm hm."
Were they even words? Was that intelligible at all? He felt the blood returning slowly to his legs, his vision become a tad less blurry. Was this even happening or had he fallen asleep with the 'Magic Fingers' going again? Dawn's perky little voice yanked him back to reality,
"Is that everyone's? You not having any Spike? Sorry, William?"
And how was it she could look so innocent now? All serene and blondie curls, as if butter wouldn't melt in her hot little....
"He only wanted a taste. He'll try some another time."
And not even a look with that last one. They swirled out, the two Summers, bearing heaped plates for their other guests, not a backward glance to see why he wasn't following, why he remained firmly pressed against their kitchen counter top.
"Hey, Spike...I mean....er...Spwilliam...is there any maple syrup left out there?"
Idiot Xander and his insatiable sweet tooth. He glanced around, desperately, dreading the moment when everyone would pour back into the kitchen, discover his predicament. He spotted the syrup. And now what?
"Ye...ah!"
God, did that sound as odd to their ears as it did to his?
"I'll be...er...right there."
He looked around again, frantically searching for a tray, oven mitt, anything, glanced back at his trousers. Bloody hell. That bloody sadistic little minx. How much longer before this thing went down?
