Chapter 2
Ah, the ecstasy. Ah, the…
"No, luv, don't stop."
One minute, he was in hot dog heaven, and the next…not so hot. She was being coy, that was it. She was being—
"What's happened to him?" A woman's voice. Not Buffy's.
"He appears to have fainted." A man.
"Buffy?" Spike's eyes flew open.
"He's awake!"
"Halfrek?"
"He seems to be delirious." Cecily eyed him coldly.
"Halfrek, what's going on?"
"He keeps calling me Halfrek."
Spike looked around him. The setting was strangely familiar; the drawing room of an old Victorian home. The faces were also familiar—more curious than concerned. He recognized them from his past. And Halfrek, no… Cecily…
"William?" A man named Derby asked. "Are you all right, chap?"
"I'm…" he began, sitting up. "I'm terrible actually."
Mild understatement.
Spike then stood up and waved the small gathering off. "I'm fine really."
"Ah well, I'm afraid William's little spill has been the most excitement we've had all night." Derby again.
"Yes, it has been terribly dull tonight," another man agreed.
"I'm all for dull." A third man. "Have you heard that there's been another disappearance?"
"Another one?"
The crowd tittered.
"Yes and I hear the police still haven't the foggiest idea of who's responsible—be it animal or human."
"How horrible!" a woman exclaimed.
"William," Derby turned to Spike, who was now lurking on the fringes of the crowd, "what say you about the recent rash of disappearances in our town?"
"Oh, I don't…" Spike started, then paused, getting a familiar glint in his eye. "Actually, I do have a theory…"
* * *
She was insatiable. Utterly insatiable.
After the third of fourth go, he'd pretty much realized that this was no dream.
No. This was real. As real as the bruises on his thighs, chest, shoulders…
His entire body ached.
And still—she wasn't done.
"Again?" William asked timidly as Buffy rolled on top of him, lightly kissing him on the lips, then straying down, down to his throat, then to his chest, then stomach, then lower…
Her hot breath made him shiver as her skillful tongue darted over, under, around and around.
"Oh my," he whimpered as her mouth engulfed him. "Oh my."
No, she wasn't done. And much to his surprise, neither was he.
He ran his fingers through her hair, marveling at the silky feel and shining, golden color. He had no idea where he was, whom he was with, or how he'd gotten there, but at the moment, he really didn't care.
Gently, he guided her back up to face him. His blue eyes studied her face.
So beautiful.
And yet, the look in her eyes was almost feral. She closed them tight, maneuvered herself over him, then began the rhythmic rocking he'd become so familiar with. Their bodies meshed together as if they were made for each other. A perfect fit.
And the way she moved… The way she made him feel…
Oh.
He closed his eyes and lost himself yet again in the magical rhythm their bodies made together.
* * *
After she'd gotten dressed, Buffy stared down at the vampire sleeping blissfully in his bed, covers tucked under his chin. His expression was so peaceful—innocent almost—with a stray platinum lock falling onto his forehead.
She sighed, feeling strangely unfulfilled. Although it wasn't like Spike hadn't risen to the occasion—repeatedly…
Something was different about him.
His touch had been tentative tonight; he seemed a little clumsy and unsure of himself. Normally, Spike relished in his expertise, his ability to bring her to the edge and keep her there indefinitely. She'd be his prisoner until he decided to release her. For him, lovemaking was an unlikely blend of art and war. A dangerous dance; she'd never felt safe in his arms.
And she liked it that way.
But tonight, it was almost as if she'd been with someone else. Someone kinder, gentler…
Someone who was good, instead of evil.
Someone…
Buffy sighed again. She didn't have time to linger any longer. She'd let Dawn down once again. Reality, and its enormous weight, started to come down on her. She felt it as she always did…except, maybe, when she was with him.
Lightly, she pressed her lips to his forehead.
"Sleep," she whispered, then quietly left the crypt.
* * *
In the morning, William awoke to the sound of humming. It was coming from above. Someone was up there, moving about. He heard a click, then some muffled voices, then a soft…crunching noise.
Where was he?
The room was unfamiliar. Cave-like. Had he been somehow captured? Taken prisoner by…
By whom? The beautiful, golden-haired nymph of the previous night?
Perhaps it was she that he heard upstairs…
He got out of bed and started for a ladder near the center of the room. A cool breeze passing by him alerted him to the fact that—he was naked.
Hands reflexively covered his private parts and he looked about the room for something to wear. Slung over a chair were some clothes—strange looking garments. A worn leather coat, black pants in a rough, working class cloth. He picked up a silky shirt the color of sapphires. He put it on.
The humming from above stopped and the muffled voices grew louder. There was distant-sounding laughter and then a loud chuckling, and then a snort. Then snorting chuckles.
Cautiously, he crept up the ladder and peered into the chamber above. What he saw gave him a shock.
A creature, half-man and half-dog—wrinkled like a Sharpei. It sat on a worn chair, watching a strange box and eating some unknown food from a shiny bag perched in its lap.
William felt lightheaded. Black dots appeared before his eyes. He blinked hard twice, then fainted.
SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1