"Golden Bands to Bind Them", Part 3, by Bonnie
Buffy and Spike elope to Vegas during "Something Blue". A pair of demon-
made wedding bands refuse to be removed. The couple deals with the
aftermath of their 'wedding' in a sometimes humorous, sometimes angsty way.
This installment contains elements of "Hush" but twisted around to fit my
story. Don't be alarmed if the facts are condensed or changed or the
dialog doesn't match up.
Spike's chains rattled against the ceramic tub, and he sat up straighter as the Watcher entered the room. He accepted the lukewarm mug of blood the stone-faced man handed him with a matching poker-countenance of his own. Wouldn't do to threaten and posture so long as his fate was so obviously in the Slayer's hands.
The Watcher leaned in the doorway, arms folded, watching him drink. Deplorable manners that, Spike thought. He wasn't a sodding zoo animal at feeding time! Glowering up from under dark-etched brows, Spike drank as fastidiously as a matron at tea.
Finally the man cleared his throat. 'Ah, here it comes,' the vampire thought.
"Whatever may have happened between Buffy and yourself under the influence of the spell, I want you to be perfectly clear that it was an illusion. Nothing like it will ever happen again. I have read a bit about your history, you see, and know that you tend toward little.....obsessions of one sort or another. I just want to make sure that my slayer doesn't become one of them."
Spike stared at Giles and continued to sip the swill in his cup. "Have I ever - in the brief hour or so since we've been here - given the least sign of being interested in anything other than getting this....atrocity off my finger? Do you not consider that this experience has been as harrowing and utterly distasteful to me as it has been to the Slayer?" Spike enjoyed the brief flash of surprise the man exhibited when he matched his speech pattern and rounded tones in a spot-on imitation. "Rest assured, I have no intentions of sharing a further.....dalliance with the young woman in question." Spike smiled brightly, unaware that the effect was somewhat ruined by blood-stained teeth.
"Very well then," the Watcher's superior manner was noticeably deflated. He practically grabbed the now empty mug from Spike's hand and prepared to retreat. But Spike wasn't finished yet. He saw Giles' stuffy tone and raised it a notch.
"Knowing that my primary objective is in complete synchronicity with that of the Slayer, wouldn't you agree that my time would be more fruitfully spent researching the H'rassee than sleeping in your bath chamber? Perhaps you could see your way clear to relieving me of my bonds so that I might aid the young Wicca in exploring methods to release the Slayer and myself from this predicament."
Giles turned to face him, rolling his eyes at the obviousness of the game. He almost appeared to suppress a smile of his own, paused, then, unexpectedly, bent to unfasten the manacles from Spike's wrists.
Before the vampire could rise, however, the Watcher clamped one hand on his shoulder with a surprisingly firm grip for a middle-aged geezer. He narrowed his eyes and fixed Spike with a stare that would've been threatening if he were a would-be suitor come to take out the man's daughter. In a low, even drawl that matched Spike's adopted North London dialect exactly he muttered. "Just so's we understand each other......mate."
********
Buffy tried again to concentrate. 'Natural selection', 'Pavlovian something or other', 'the socio-dynamic interaction of whosis and whaaaat?' Which topic were they on again? She blinked slowly and smiled even wider, as she nodded knowingly.
"So Professor Walsh believes......" The open-faced young man suddenly became aware of her flagging interest. "And you don't have the least care in the world what Professor Walsh says, do you?" He blushed becomingly. Buffy thought if they'd been standing he would've plunged his hands in his pockets, shuffled his foot and said, 'aw shucks'.
"No. I'm interested. Really! It's just that I- I studied for an exam really late last night. I mean REALLY late, like until there wasn't any night left, and now I'm kinda, you know, exhausted and having trouble staying awake. Any other time, though. I'm right there with you. Natural selection or Freudian imagery, I can discuss those 'til the cows come home."
"Buffy," Riley interrupted her tirade. "It's okay. You don't have to explain yourself. I've pulled all-nighters plenty of times. And psychology isn't exactly riveting stuff for everybody. Let's call it a day and you get yourself home and to bed."
"But I.... But we didn't even get to the dessert!" Buffy almost wailed. "I really wanted this date to work. I can sleep later!" A huge yawn overtook her, and Riley grinned as if she had done the most charming thing in the world.
"Go home, Buffy. We'll get together another time. It's no big deal. Really." He began gathering the remains of their picnic, neatly folding the paper plates in half before throwing them in the trash bin, and carefully shaking out the cloth they had sat on before packing it back in the basket. Buffy gathered the containers of food and shoved them haphazardly in after it.
She stood and stretched, taking in big lungfuls of the fresh breeze, and admiring the way the sun brought out a hundred different highlights in Riley's plain brown hair. Nice handsome guy. Beautiful sunny day. THIS is what life was supposed to be about! On impulse, Buffy stepped toward the grad student, lifted herself to her tiptoes and planted a solid kiss on his lips.
Riley's eyes widened, but he recovered quickly, grasped Buffy's upper arms, and kissed her back. He tasted like the apple he had just eaten. Sweet and delicious. Buffy opened her mouth a little and let the kiss deepen.
The young man only hesitated a moment, then followed her lead, allowing his tongue to tentatively explore the very edge of her mouth. But Buffy wanted more. She opened wider, tilted her head a little more, and ran her own tongue out to meet his. Riley's hands slipped from her arms to around her back and roamed up and down it, but always stopping chastely just above her buttocks.
He was so NICE! So warm and alive under her hands and mouth. Buffy waited for her heart to start thumping in her chest and her pulse to begin that dizzying race. Nothing happened.
Maybe she just needed a kickstart. Maybe if she kissed him a little harder, ground against him a little, something would happen. But before she had a chance to test it, Riley pulled back, looking dazed and breathless.
"Man!" he breathed. "Wow!"
'There's a 'wow'?' Buffy thought. 'How did I miss it?'
"Buffy, that was.....really nice. But, we better slow down or......"
Buffy wondered if everyone from Iowa blushed as much as Riley.
"Oh. Okay," she said. "I.... Well, I'll see you in class, um, tomorrow." She stooped to pick up her basket.
"Definitely!" Riley said. "Maybe we can go out for coffee afterward."
"I'd like that." Buffy bestowed her highest wattage smile on him, then turned and strode away across the campus.
Back in her dorm room again, the weary Slayer kicked off her shoes and fell across her bed. "Gotta call Giles," she thought muzzily, then she was asleep.
The dream began normally enough - Buffy in class struggling to catch up with what she'd missed. But Professor Walsh beckoned her to the front of the room and Buffy was aware that she was going to have to demonstrate something. She perched on the edge of a table, staring at the roomful, make that absolutely FULL of students, and listening to Walsh drone on about communication. Suddenly she became aware that another student was being called on to participate in the demonstration. Buffy looked up and was somehow unsurprised to see Spike there. They were supposed to show how they communicated with just their bodies.
She watched Spike approach her, eyebrows drawn together in concentration, lips slightly parted as if to speak. She wet her lips in anticipation of his kiss, eyes sliding over to scan the silent, watching group. They were impassive. Buffy looked toward Spike again, who now stood before her hesitantly. He reached out, but instead of moving in and kissing her, he took her hand in his. Their fingers threaded together, palms touched, and Buffy felt a searing heat at the joining. Then she mentally heard Spike's voice telling her, "You see? We are one now, consumed in fire."
Her eyes flickered closed at the pain, and when she opened them again the room was dark and she was alone. Sliding off the table, Buffy followed the sound of a little girl eerily chanting some sort of nursery rhyme about "the gentlemen."
******
The ringing of her bedside phone wrenched Buffy awake with a little shriek. She gasped for breath and tried to still her pounding heart. Damn prophetic Slayer dreams! Not good for the sleeping. She grabbed at the receiver. "Yeah?"
"Buffy? You're there?" Willow's plaintive voice grated on her roommate's nerves. Of course she was here, who else would be answering? Her friend continued. "We were kinda starting to worry. It's getting late....."
Buffy fumbled for the clock. After 9:30!? "I'm so sorry, Will. I just laid down to rest for a minute."
"That's okay. How was your date?"
"It was a beginning," Buffy hedged. "Did you find out anything with the research?"
"Nope. We even had Spike helping. You know, he's smarter than he looks? Anyway, we found zip. But Anya says her contact is still a possibility. He's looking into something. I'm not sure what that's about. Anya's being all mystery-girl about it. I think she's been reading Sherlock Holmes."
"Well, I'll be right over."
"Naw. Take it easy Buffy. You've had a stressful day! We're about to break it up here anyway and meet again in the morning. Xander'll be dropping me off at the dorm soon. And did I tell you lately how sorry I....?"
Buffy smiled. "Willow! Enough with the apologies!"
The girls said goodbye and Buffy stripped off her clothes, tossed on an oversize T and crawled back in bed. She lay there thinking about her dream, especially the part with Spike and the weird hand thing. What was that supposed to signify? She finally drifted off to dreamless sleep and didn't wake again until morning.
**********
Late the next morning the gang was assembled at Giles' home, ostensibly researching but actually picking through a pastry assortment for their favorites. Buffy had shared part of her dream from the night before, but 'the gentlemen' didn't mean anything to Giles.
She stole a glance every now and then at Spike, who was off in a corner by himself, crumbling some kind of Shredded Wheat thing into a mug of blood and watching TV. She would never admit it, but she had been a little miffed when he almost completely ignored her arrival. Stupid vampire! Didn't he realize the predicament they were in? His panicky demeanor of the day before had done a complete 180 into nonchalant indifference.
He couldn't possibly be pulling some kind of grade-school hissy-fit, could he? Not speaking to her because of the little tease she'd had at his expense yesterday? He had to know she wouldn't really parade his pathetic insecurities in front of everyone. Who did he think she was, anyway? Buffy was comforted by the familiar feeling of anger replacing the unhealthy guilt of the day before.
"Why do I have to take him? I didn't think we should help him to begin with." Xander was practically shouting at Giles, catching Buffy's attention.
"It will only be for a night or two." Giles was using his 'reasonable' tone. Never a good sign for whoever was on the other end of the argument. "I'm expecting a guest and I simply can't have a vampire in my bathroom."
"Well, I'm tying him up then, 'cause there's no way I'll catch any sleep with the Walking Dead in my room."
"You can't be serious!" Spike interrupted, as Anya simultaneously chimed in with, "You realize this is going to affect Xander's performance. He won't do well if we're being watched."
Ignoring her, Xander snapped his fingers. "I got it! My mom has an old chest freezer. You could fit a body in there. I mean, it's not like it's plugged in or anything."
"That sounds perfect," Anya quickly agreed. "'Out of sight. Out of trouble,' as we humans like to say."
"What?!" Spike's eyes were wide and the panicked edge to his voice was back in full force. He shot a quick, reproachful look at Buffy, as if she had divulged his little secret.
"Xander. You're not putting anyone in a freezer. That's ridiculous." Buffy spoke calmly and firmly. "Just tie him to a chair or something. He's harmless anyway. I mean look at him."
As one they all looked over to Spike, who was sitting with a spoonful of cereal drenched in sticky red liquid poised halfway to his mouth. He scowled back at them, dropped the spoon into the mug with a splash and leaped up from the chair to stalk toward the kitchen.
"Ungrateful!" Anya sniffed. "Some people are just horrible house guests."
"All right, I'll take him," Xander sighed and held up a qualifying finger, "But I won't like it!"
"Who's your 'visitor', anyway?" Willow grinned mischievously at Giles. "Anyone we should know about?"
"Sounds to me like an orgasm friend," Anya said, taking a huge bite of her jelly donut. She looked up at the sudden complete silence. "Otherwise why would he need the privacy?" she explained. "He's probably like Xander. Doesn't want people to know that he HAS a sex life."
"All right. Off with you. Don't you have classes or jobs to go to?" Giles rose and made shooing gestures toward the door. "Xander, please wrap Spike up and take him along, there's a chap."
Soon they were all filing out the door, which Giles practically slammed behind them.
********* "I can drive my own car," Spike snapped, when they got to the shelter of the carport. "Just give me your address."
"You're not parking that pile of junk on my street," Xander complained.
Spike narrowed his eyes, jutted his chin, and crossed his arms. "This car is a classic."
"No. That car is a junkyard reject. Besides, how do we know you won't take off or something?"
Spike just rolled his eyes in annoyance and held up his hand. "Evil spell. Ring. Remember?"
"I'll deliver him to you, then park the car somewhere else." Buffy tried to play peacemaker. "Look, it's only for a short while. Please just try to play nice."
Both males shrugged and sulkily turned toward their respective vehicles. Willow, Anya and Buffy exchanged an estrogen moment, rolling their eyes at the male posturing, then climbed into the cars as well.
****** It was a nearly silent ride in the Desoto, where the air crackled with invisible electricity.
Buffy: How'd you convince Giles to let you out of the tub?
Spike: Asked.
Buffy: Did you find anything remotely useful during research yesterday?
Spike: No.
Buffy: Sounds like maybe Anya is onto something.
Spike: Maybe.
Buffy: Hey, behave for Xander, okay? I don't want to hear that you've given him any trouble.
Shrug.
Buffy: I mean it. You should be grateful to him for putting you up.
Snort.
Buffy sighed and subsided into silence. And she had thought the ride back from Vegas was awkward. Today was even worse.
Finally Spike pulled up to the curb in front of the Harris residence. Buffy pointed out the side cellar door, and he prepared to make a dash for it, but before he opened the door, Spike paused, clearing his throat, tapping the steering wheel, and staring anywhere but at Buffy.
"What?" she asked. "You gonna tell me to take good care of your baby and park it somewhere safe? Don't worry about it!"
"Uh, thanks for that....earlier," Spike muttered.
"What earlier?"
"The freezer thing. Not that I think the little nancy could manhandle me into it against my will or anything, but....still....if you'd wanted to you could've made things......well, anyway, just thanks for keeping your mouth shut."
"Oh! Well. You're welcome." Buffy felt herself start to inexplicably blush. That pissed her off so she added, snappily. "I don't tell secrets, Spike. Not even yours."
"Right then." He gave a quick nod, then threw open the door and plunged into the sunlight. Buffy suddenly realized he may very well be taking HER life into his hands every time he pulled a stunt like that. It was unsettling.
She watched Xander usher him inside before sliding over into the driver's seat and putting the car back into gear. As she drove, her mind played back the tape of Spike sharing his claustrophobic fears with her on the notorious 'wedding night'....
*********
"It's not easy being a minion, you know," Spike explained. "When you first rise, it's such a rush. The whole world is open before you and all you want to do is grab it in both fists and devour it. Then some poncy bastard announces he's your sire - or grandsire in my case - and that you'll do as he says or else. 'Or else what?' you say. And right away you find out."
"And that was Angelus?" Buffy affirmed softly.
"I didn't mind the whips and chains part so much. That could be sexy, actually. But it didn't take him long to find a way to reach me. Always was a master at psychological torture."
Spike lifted her hand and examined it, front and back. "You have such lovely, tiny little hands," he commented, then grinned. "Hurt like a bitch when they hit you, though." He kissed her fingertips.
Buffy, who knew all about the art of evasion, prompted him to continue the story.
"Well, he and Darla were happy to finally have someone to tend Dru or I'm sure I wouldn't have been kept around at all. Anyway, to make it short, Angelus kept me in line by leaving me in a steel locker as punishment for my transgressions. No light, nor blood. Just me and the dark for days on end. Longest time was over a couple of months. That one was because Dru forgot to remind him to let me out I guess."
"Why didn't you take off when you got a chance?"
"Would've, but Dru wouldn't leave him and I couldn't leave her. So 'round we went for years. I soon learned to submit - to an extent - and Angelus eventually let me have Drusilla. But the happiest day of my life was when that gypsy cursed him and we were rid of him for good. Then Darla left and it was just me and Dru, the way I'd always wanted it.
Oh, she wept and screamed for months, but eventually she settled down and then we were happy. We really were happy," Spike sounded as if he were trying to convince himself. "Of course, it only took Angelus showing up just once, over 100 years later and I lost her again. Just like that." He snapped his fingers, and Buffy, under the hypnotic spell of his voice, jumped a little.
"And the dream?" she prodded gently.
"The box of course. You don't forget what it feels like to be trussed up in a tiny, dark box and forgotten, not knowing if anyone is ever coming back for you and knowing that as an immortal you could suffer there for a long, long time, mostly starved to oblivion but still conscious."
She shivered and hugged him tighter. He burrowed against her, seeking her heat.
"The silence...." his voice trailed off. "More than anything, even the hunger, was the loneliness. I hate being alone."
Buffy felt a tear trickle down her cheek and into her ear. She sniffed as quietly as she could and cleared her throat.
"You won't ever be alone again," she promised him. "You have me now. And, not to bash your ex, but, I'm sane and able to love you back."
He laughed softly and nipped at her belly. "Enough scar baring now, all right, love? Let's have a little less talk and a little more fun around here." He growled and plunged down between her thighs. Within a minute all thoughts of abusive sires and absentee fathers flew out the window of her mind, and all that was left were waves of bliss....bliss.....blisss......
*********
Buffy went to class. Buffy met Riley. They went to the Espresso Pump for a pair of lattes. They talked about class. They talked about Iowa and L.A. and old friends they'd left behind. Riley smiled. Buffy laughed. The coffee was good. When they stood to leave, Riley slipped a breath mint in his mouth then bid her goodbye with a minty fresh kiss. How considerate. And Buffy wondered, as she closed her eyes and tasted him, what was the matter with her. Why was she jonesing for the flavor of nicotine and booze with just a tinge of coppery blood beneath it? Why, even though he was quarterback sized, did Riley seem so fragile and insubstantial? Why did her hands long to be touching whipcord muscles, sinewy and strong, full of coiled energy? In short, what the HELL was wrong with Buffy?
From the moment she entered Giles' house this morning, she had been aware of Spike's presence buzzing all over her skin like a low-grade fever. And it was more than the usual Slayer-sense, alert to the presence of a vamp in the area. As the day went on, and she tried to ignore the sensation, it had only gotten worse. She wasn't anywhere near Spike now and she could still feel him. Not just feel him, she actually ACHED for his touch. It was so creepy. The rings! Had to be.
Well, until Willow or Anya came up with something to fix this mess, Buffy would just have to deal. She shoved the unmentionable feelings back down into a tiny lock box deep inside her where they belonged and headed to the library for some serious study time to save her from failing World Lit.
********** Much later............
It was the deepest, stillest part of the night.....or it would have been if Harris weren't snoring hard enough to shake the foundation of the house. Spike sat, bound to a ratty easy chair with rope. As if that would hold him if he really wanted to break free. He looked over at his host, sprawled across the sofa bed. Stupid wanker! He would be the first to die when Spike got his chip out.
Spike sighed and closed his eyes again, trying to unfocus and drift away, but after a day of doing nothing but sitting and watching telly, he was full of energy and the urge to maim and kill. It wasn't natural for a vamp to be falling asleep at....he glanced at the glowing red numerals on the clock....3:30 in the morning. He felt all itchy and hungry and.....horny.
Memories of what he'd been doing night before last at this time flowed through his mind unbidden. Hot skin, tangled limbs, wet tongues, stroking hands, slippery flesh strobed in his head. He groaned quietly almost FEELING the sensations in his body. If he grew any harder he was going to burst right there in his pants like some tight-assed virgin choirboy sneaking a gander at daddy's 'Playboys'. Gotta redirect the attention.
But when you're sitting, strapped to a chair in the middle of the night in a strange house with nothing else to occupy your attention, and your dick is straining against the buttons of your jeans until it's downright painful, and the object of your desire is probably curled up sleeping like a fluffy blond angel in her warm, Buffy-fragrant sheets, maybe shifting a little, opening her pretty rosebud of a mouth and exhaling softly, brushing a hand across her cheek and furrowing her brow as a nightmare disturbs her rest, or maybe even dreaming of YOU and starting to moan low in her throat with desire and maybe touch herself down between her legs in her sleep, it's hard. What's hard? Spike had totally lost track of the first part of his musing and ended up focusing on the 'hard'. And it WAS hard. Really, really hard, and.....oh bugger. He had to get out of here.
He eventually drifted off into restless sleep, and in the even deeper reaches of the night - nigh on to morning - the Gentlemen's work began.
The night passed. A new day dawned. And the people of Sunnydale awoke.....mute.
To be continued.....
Spike's chains rattled against the ceramic tub, and he sat up straighter as the Watcher entered the room. He accepted the lukewarm mug of blood the stone-faced man handed him with a matching poker-countenance of his own. Wouldn't do to threaten and posture so long as his fate was so obviously in the Slayer's hands.
The Watcher leaned in the doorway, arms folded, watching him drink. Deplorable manners that, Spike thought. He wasn't a sodding zoo animal at feeding time! Glowering up from under dark-etched brows, Spike drank as fastidiously as a matron at tea.
Finally the man cleared his throat. 'Ah, here it comes,' the vampire thought.
"Whatever may have happened between Buffy and yourself under the influence of the spell, I want you to be perfectly clear that it was an illusion. Nothing like it will ever happen again. I have read a bit about your history, you see, and know that you tend toward little.....obsessions of one sort or another. I just want to make sure that my slayer doesn't become one of them."
Spike stared at Giles and continued to sip the swill in his cup. "Have I ever - in the brief hour or so since we've been here - given the least sign of being interested in anything other than getting this....atrocity off my finger? Do you not consider that this experience has been as harrowing and utterly distasteful to me as it has been to the Slayer?" Spike enjoyed the brief flash of surprise the man exhibited when he matched his speech pattern and rounded tones in a spot-on imitation. "Rest assured, I have no intentions of sharing a further.....dalliance with the young woman in question." Spike smiled brightly, unaware that the effect was somewhat ruined by blood-stained teeth.
"Very well then," the Watcher's superior manner was noticeably deflated. He practically grabbed the now empty mug from Spike's hand and prepared to retreat. But Spike wasn't finished yet. He saw Giles' stuffy tone and raised it a notch.
"Knowing that my primary objective is in complete synchronicity with that of the Slayer, wouldn't you agree that my time would be more fruitfully spent researching the H'rassee than sleeping in your bath chamber? Perhaps you could see your way clear to relieving me of my bonds so that I might aid the young Wicca in exploring methods to release the Slayer and myself from this predicament."
Giles turned to face him, rolling his eyes at the obviousness of the game. He almost appeared to suppress a smile of his own, paused, then, unexpectedly, bent to unfasten the manacles from Spike's wrists.
Before the vampire could rise, however, the Watcher clamped one hand on his shoulder with a surprisingly firm grip for a middle-aged geezer. He narrowed his eyes and fixed Spike with a stare that would've been threatening if he were a would-be suitor come to take out the man's daughter. In a low, even drawl that matched Spike's adopted North London dialect exactly he muttered. "Just so's we understand each other......mate."
********
Buffy tried again to concentrate. 'Natural selection', 'Pavlovian something or other', 'the socio-dynamic interaction of whosis and whaaaat?' Which topic were they on again? She blinked slowly and smiled even wider, as she nodded knowingly.
"So Professor Walsh believes......" The open-faced young man suddenly became aware of her flagging interest. "And you don't have the least care in the world what Professor Walsh says, do you?" He blushed becomingly. Buffy thought if they'd been standing he would've plunged his hands in his pockets, shuffled his foot and said, 'aw shucks'.
"No. I'm interested. Really! It's just that I- I studied for an exam really late last night. I mean REALLY late, like until there wasn't any night left, and now I'm kinda, you know, exhausted and having trouble staying awake. Any other time, though. I'm right there with you. Natural selection or Freudian imagery, I can discuss those 'til the cows come home."
"Buffy," Riley interrupted her tirade. "It's okay. You don't have to explain yourself. I've pulled all-nighters plenty of times. And psychology isn't exactly riveting stuff for everybody. Let's call it a day and you get yourself home and to bed."
"But I.... But we didn't even get to the dessert!" Buffy almost wailed. "I really wanted this date to work. I can sleep later!" A huge yawn overtook her, and Riley grinned as if she had done the most charming thing in the world.
"Go home, Buffy. We'll get together another time. It's no big deal. Really." He began gathering the remains of their picnic, neatly folding the paper plates in half before throwing them in the trash bin, and carefully shaking out the cloth they had sat on before packing it back in the basket. Buffy gathered the containers of food and shoved them haphazardly in after it.
She stood and stretched, taking in big lungfuls of the fresh breeze, and admiring the way the sun brought out a hundred different highlights in Riley's plain brown hair. Nice handsome guy. Beautiful sunny day. THIS is what life was supposed to be about! On impulse, Buffy stepped toward the grad student, lifted herself to her tiptoes and planted a solid kiss on his lips.
Riley's eyes widened, but he recovered quickly, grasped Buffy's upper arms, and kissed her back. He tasted like the apple he had just eaten. Sweet and delicious. Buffy opened her mouth a little and let the kiss deepen.
The young man only hesitated a moment, then followed her lead, allowing his tongue to tentatively explore the very edge of her mouth. But Buffy wanted more. She opened wider, tilted her head a little more, and ran her own tongue out to meet his. Riley's hands slipped from her arms to around her back and roamed up and down it, but always stopping chastely just above her buttocks.
He was so NICE! So warm and alive under her hands and mouth. Buffy waited for her heart to start thumping in her chest and her pulse to begin that dizzying race. Nothing happened.
Maybe she just needed a kickstart. Maybe if she kissed him a little harder, ground against him a little, something would happen. But before she had a chance to test it, Riley pulled back, looking dazed and breathless.
"Man!" he breathed. "Wow!"
'There's a 'wow'?' Buffy thought. 'How did I miss it?'
"Buffy, that was.....really nice. But, we better slow down or......"
Buffy wondered if everyone from Iowa blushed as much as Riley.
"Oh. Okay," she said. "I.... Well, I'll see you in class, um, tomorrow." She stooped to pick up her basket.
"Definitely!" Riley said. "Maybe we can go out for coffee afterward."
"I'd like that." Buffy bestowed her highest wattage smile on him, then turned and strode away across the campus.
Back in her dorm room again, the weary Slayer kicked off her shoes and fell across her bed. "Gotta call Giles," she thought muzzily, then she was asleep.
The dream began normally enough - Buffy in class struggling to catch up with what she'd missed. But Professor Walsh beckoned her to the front of the room and Buffy was aware that she was going to have to demonstrate something. She perched on the edge of a table, staring at the roomful, make that absolutely FULL of students, and listening to Walsh drone on about communication. Suddenly she became aware that another student was being called on to participate in the demonstration. Buffy looked up and was somehow unsurprised to see Spike there. They were supposed to show how they communicated with just their bodies.
She watched Spike approach her, eyebrows drawn together in concentration, lips slightly parted as if to speak. She wet her lips in anticipation of his kiss, eyes sliding over to scan the silent, watching group. They were impassive. Buffy looked toward Spike again, who now stood before her hesitantly. He reached out, but instead of moving in and kissing her, he took her hand in his. Their fingers threaded together, palms touched, and Buffy felt a searing heat at the joining. Then she mentally heard Spike's voice telling her, "You see? We are one now, consumed in fire."
Her eyes flickered closed at the pain, and when she opened them again the room was dark and she was alone. Sliding off the table, Buffy followed the sound of a little girl eerily chanting some sort of nursery rhyme about "the gentlemen."
******
The ringing of her bedside phone wrenched Buffy awake with a little shriek. She gasped for breath and tried to still her pounding heart. Damn prophetic Slayer dreams! Not good for the sleeping. She grabbed at the receiver. "Yeah?"
"Buffy? You're there?" Willow's plaintive voice grated on her roommate's nerves. Of course she was here, who else would be answering? Her friend continued. "We were kinda starting to worry. It's getting late....."
Buffy fumbled for the clock. After 9:30!? "I'm so sorry, Will. I just laid down to rest for a minute."
"That's okay. How was your date?"
"It was a beginning," Buffy hedged. "Did you find out anything with the research?"
"Nope. We even had Spike helping. You know, he's smarter than he looks? Anyway, we found zip. But Anya says her contact is still a possibility. He's looking into something. I'm not sure what that's about. Anya's being all mystery-girl about it. I think she's been reading Sherlock Holmes."
"Well, I'll be right over."
"Naw. Take it easy Buffy. You've had a stressful day! We're about to break it up here anyway and meet again in the morning. Xander'll be dropping me off at the dorm soon. And did I tell you lately how sorry I....?"
Buffy smiled. "Willow! Enough with the apologies!"
The girls said goodbye and Buffy stripped off her clothes, tossed on an oversize T and crawled back in bed. She lay there thinking about her dream, especially the part with Spike and the weird hand thing. What was that supposed to signify? She finally drifted off to dreamless sleep and didn't wake again until morning.
**********
Late the next morning the gang was assembled at Giles' home, ostensibly researching but actually picking through a pastry assortment for their favorites. Buffy had shared part of her dream from the night before, but 'the gentlemen' didn't mean anything to Giles.
She stole a glance every now and then at Spike, who was off in a corner by himself, crumbling some kind of Shredded Wheat thing into a mug of blood and watching TV. She would never admit it, but she had been a little miffed when he almost completely ignored her arrival. Stupid vampire! Didn't he realize the predicament they were in? His panicky demeanor of the day before had done a complete 180 into nonchalant indifference.
He couldn't possibly be pulling some kind of grade-school hissy-fit, could he? Not speaking to her because of the little tease she'd had at his expense yesterday? He had to know she wouldn't really parade his pathetic insecurities in front of everyone. Who did he think she was, anyway? Buffy was comforted by the familiar feeling of anger replacing the unhealthy guilt of the day before.
"Why do I have to take him? I didn't think we should help him to begin with." Xander was practically shouting at Giles, catching Buffy's attention.
"It will only be for a night or two." Giles was using his 'reasonable' tone. Never a good sign for whoever was on the other end of the argument. "I'm expecting a guest and I simply can't have a vampire in my bathroom."
"Well, I'm tying him up then, 'cause there's no way I'll catch any sleep with the Walking Dead in my room."
"You can't be serious!" Spike interrupted, as Anya simultaneously chimed in with, "You realize this is going to affect Xander's performance. He won't do well if we're being watched."
Ignoring her, Xander snapped his fingers. "I got it! My mom has an old chest freezer. You could fit a body in there. I mean, it's not like it's plugged in or anything."
"That sounds perfect," Anya quickly agreed. "'Out of sight. Out of trouble,' as we humans like to say."
"What?!" Spike's eyes were wide and the panicked edge to his voice was back in full force. He shot a quick, reproachful look at Buffy, as if she had divulged his little secret.
"Xander. You're not putting anyone in a freezer. That's ridiculous." Buffy spoke calmly and firmly. "Just tie him to a chair or something. He's harmless anyway. I mean look at him."
As one they all looked over to Spike, who was sitting with a spoonful of cereal drenched in sticky red liquid poised halfway to his mouth. He scowled back at them, dropped the spoon into the mug with a splash and leaped up from the chair to stalk toward the kitchen.
"Ungrateful!" Anya sniffed. "Some people are just horrible house guests."
"All right, I'll take him," Xander sighed and held up a qualifying finger, "But I won't like it!"
"Who's your 'visitor', anyway?" Willow grinned mischievously at Giles. "Anyone we should know about?"
"Sounds to me like an orgasm friend," Anya said, taking a huge bite of her jelly donut. She looked up at the sudden complete silence. "Otherwise why would he need the privacy?" she explained. "He's probably like Xander. Doesn't want people to know that he HAS a sex life."
"All right. Off with you. Don't you have classes or jobs to go to?" Giles rose and made shooing gestures toward the door. "Xander, please wrap Spike up and take him along, there's a chap."
Soon they were all filing out the door, which Giles practically slammed behind them.
********* "I can drive my own car," Spike snapped, when they got to the shelter of the carport. "Just give me your address."
"You're not parking that pile of junk on my street," Xander complained.
Spike narrowed his eyes, jutted his chin, and crossed his arms. "This car is a classic."
"No. That car is a junkyard reject. Besides, how do we know you won't take off or something?"
Spike just rolled his eyes in annoyance and held up his hand. "Evil spell. Ring. Remember?"
"I'll deliver him to you, then park the car somewhere else." Buffy tried to play peacemaker. "Look, it's only for a short while. Please just try to play nice."
Both males shrugged and sulkily turned toward their respective vehicles. Willow, Anya and Buffy exchanged an estrogen moment, rolling their eyes at the male posturing, then climbed into the cars as well.
****** It was a nearly silent ride in the Desoto, where the air crackled with invisible electricity.
Buffy: How'd you convince Giles to let you out of the tub?
Spike: Asked.
Buffy: Did you find anything remotely useful during research yesterday?
Spike: No.
Buffy: Sounds like maybe Anya is onto something.
Spike: Maybe.
Buffy: Hey, behave for Xander, okay? I don't want to hear that you've given him any trouble.
Shrug.
Buffy: I mean it. You should be grateful to him for putting you up.
Snort.
Buffy sighed and subsided into silence. And she had thought the ride back from Vegas was awkward. Today was even worse.
Finally Spike pulled up to the curb in front of the Harris residence. Buffy pointed out the side cellar door, and he prepared to make a dash for it, but before he opened the door, Spike paused, clearing his throat, tapping the steering wheel, and staring anywhere but at Buffy.
"What?" she asked. "You gonna tell me to take good care of your baby and park it somewhere safe? Don't worry about it!"
"Uh, thanks for that....earlier," Spike muttered.
"What earlier?"
"The freezer thing. Not that I think the little nancy could manhandle me into it against my will or anything, but....still....if you'd wanted to you could've made things......well, anyway, just thanks for keeping your mouth shut."
"Oh! Well. You're welcome." Buffy felt herself start to inexplicably blush. That pissed her off so she added, snappily. "I don't tell secrets, Spike. Not even yours."
"Right then." He gave a quick nod, then threw open the door and plunged into the sunlight. Buffy suddenly realized he may very well be taking HER life into his hands every time he pulled a stunt like that. It was unsettling.
She watched Xander usher him inside before sliding over into the driver's seat and putting the car back into gear. As she drove, her mind played back the tape of Spike sharing his claustrophobic fears with her on the notorious 'wedding night'....
*********
"It's not easy being a minion, you know," Spike explained. "When you first rise, it's such a rush. The whole world is open before you and all you want to do is grab it in both fists and devour it. Then some poncy bastard announces he's your sire - or grandsire in my case - and that you'll do as he says or else. 'Or else what?' you say. And right away you find out."
"And that was Angelus?" Buffy affirmed softly.
"I didn't mind the whips and chains part so much. That could be sexy, actually. But it didn't take him long to find a way to reach me. Always was a master at psychological torture."
Spike lifted her hand and examined it, front and back. "You have such lovely, tiny little hands," he commented, then grinned. "Hurt like a bitch when they hit you, though." He kissed her fingertips.
Buffy, who knew all about the art of evasion, prompted him to continue the story.
"Well, he and Darla were happy to finally have someone to tend Dru or I'm sure I wouldn't have been kept around at all. Anyway, to make it short, Angelus kept me in line by leaving me in a steel locker as punishment for my transgressions. No light, nor blood. Just me and the dark for days on end. Longest time was over a couple of months. That one was because Dru forgot to remind him to let me out I guess."
"Why didn't you take off when you got a chance?"
"Would've, but Dru wouldn't leave him and I couldn't leave her. So 'round we went for years. I soon learned to submit - to an extent - and Angelus eventually let me have Drusilla. But the happiest day of my life was when that gypsy cursed him and we were rid of him for good. Then Darla left and it was just me and Dru, the way I'd always wanted it.
Oh, she wept and screamed for months, but eventually she settled down and then we were happy. We really were happy," Spike sounded as if he were trying to convince himself. "Of course, it only took Angelus showing up just once, over 100 years later and I lost her again. Just like that." He snapped his fingers, and Buffy, under the hypnotic spell of his voice, jumped a little.
"And the dream?" she prodded gently.
"The box of course. You don't forget what it feels like to be trussed up in a tiny, dark box and forgotten, not knowing if anyone is ever coming back for you and knowing that as an immortal you could suffer there for a long, long time, mostly starved to oblivion but still conscious."
She shivered and hugged him tighter. He burrowed against her, seeking her heat.
"The silence...." his voice trailed off. "More than anything, even the hunger, was the loneliness. I hate being alone."
Buffy felt a tear trickle down her cheek and into her ear. She sniffed as quietly as she could and cleared her throat.
"You won't ever be alone again," she promised him. "You have me now. And, not to bash your ex, but, I'm sane and able to love you back."
He laughed softly and nipped at her belly. "Enough scar baring now, all right, love? Let's have a little less talk and a little more fun around here." He growled and plunged down between her thighs. Within a minute all thoughts of abusive sires and absentee fathers flew out the window of her mind, and all that was left were waves of bliss....bliss.....blisss......
*********
Buffy went to class. Buffy met Riley. They went to the Espresso Pump for a pair of lattes. They talked about class. They talked about Iowa and L.A. and old friends they'd left behind. Riley smiled. Buffy laughed. The coffee was good. When they stood to leave, Riley slipped a breath mint in his mouth then bid her goodbye with a minty fresh kiss. How considerate. And Buffy wondered, as she closed her eyes and tasted him, what was the matter with her. Why was she jonesing for the flavor of nicotine and booze with just a tinge of coppery blood beneath it? Why, even though he was quarterback sized, did Riley seem so fragile and insubstantial? Why did her hands long to be touching whipcord muscles, sinewy and strong, full of coiled energy? In short, what the HELL was wrong with Buffy?
From the moment she entered Giles' house this morning, she had been aware of Spike's presence buzzing all over her skin like a low-grade fever. And it was more than the usual Slayer-sense, alert to the presence of a vamp in the area. As the day went on, and she tried to ignore the sensation, it had only gotten worse. She wasn't anywhere near Spike now and she could still feel him. Not just feel him, she actually ACHED for his touch. It was so creepy. The rings! Had to be.
Well, until Willow or Anya came up with something to fix this mess, Buffy would just have to deal. She shoved the unmentionable feelings back down into a tiny lock box deep inside her where they belonged and headed to the library for some serious study time to save her from failing World Lit.
********** Much later............
It was the deepest, stillest part of the night.....or it would have been if Harris weren't snoring hard enough to shake the foundation of the house. Spike sat, bound to a ratty easy chair with rope. As if that would hold him if he really wanted to break free. He looked over at his host, sprawled across the sofa bed. Stupid wanker! He would be the first to die when Spike got his chip out.
Spike sighed and closed his eyes again, trying to unfocus and drift away, but after a day of doing nothing but sitting and watching telly, he was full of energy and the urge to maim and kill. It wasn't natural for a vamp to be falling asleep at....he glanced at the glowing red numerals on the clock....3:30 in the morning. He felt all itchy and hungry and.....horny.
Memories of what he'd been doing night before last at this time flowed through his mind unbidden. Hot skin, tangled limbs, wet tongues, stroking hands, slippery flesh strobed in his head. He groaned quietly almost FEELING the sensations in his body. If he grew any harder he was going to burst right there in his pants like some tight-assed virgin choirboy sneaking a gander at daddy's 'Playboys'. Gotta redirect the attention.
But when you're sitting, strapped to a chair in the middle of the night in a strange house with nothing else to occupy your attention, and your dick is straining against the buttons of your jeans until it's downright painful, and the object of your desire is probably curled up sleeping like a fluffy blond angel in her warm, Buffy-fragrant sheets, maybe shifting a little, opening her pretty rosebud of a mouth and exhaling softly, brushing a hand across her cheek and furrowing her brow as a nightmare disturbs her rest, or maybe even dreaming of YOU and starting to moan low in her throat with desire and maybe touch herself down between her legs in her sleep, it's hard. What's hard? Spike had totally lost track of the first part of his musing and ended up focusing on the 'hard'. And it WAS hard. Really, really hard, and.....oh bugger. He had to get out of here.
He eventually drifted off into restless sleep, and in the even deeper reaches of the night - nigh on to morning - the Gentlemen's work began.
The night passed. A new day dawned. And the people of Sunnydale awoke.....mute.
To be continued.....