"Golden Bands to Bind Them", part 4
by BonnieD
(Previously, Buffy/Spike got hitched in Vegas due to Willow's spell and
have immovable wedding bands on their hands. The AU keeps getting twistier
as I try to incorporate new facts into the regular canon of "Hush". Again,
you may see situations deleted or condensed to fit my needs.)
Spike woke with someone shaking him, then striking a sharp blow to his head.
"What the hell?" he tried to yell. His eyes opened to find Harris' face, inches away, screaming soundlessly at him. Obviously from the lad's expression he was blaming Spike for something or other.
"What?" he began again, but there was still no sound. A light dawned. They must be under a spell. The little red witch had been at it again. Damn lucky he hadn't woken to find himself in bed with the stupid blighter. Spike glared, as the kid kept shaking him by the shoulders, and looked meaningfully down to his bonds.
Harris took a step back, realizing Spike couldn't have caused this, then rushed for the phone. The vampire rolled his eyes at the idiocy inherent in the act and smirked at the boy's reaction when he realized phones were useless without a voice.
Xander dressed quickly, untied Spike, and dragged him off to the Watcher's house again. Giles ushered them in and soundlessly introduced his lady friend, holding up a scribbled note that read, "Olivia."
Then Buffy and Willow arrived, wearing matching signboards. When Xander pointed at the witch and raised his eyebrows, she shook her head furiously and wrote, "It wasn't me!" on her board. Meanwhile, Buffy was writing quickly and held up her message, "It's all over town." She caught sight of Spike and he dropped his gaze, afraid she could read his fantasies from the previous night on his face. But the moment she bent her head to write an answer to a question from Giles, his eyes were right back on her. He wondered how anyone could possibly look so perky and sunshiny and altogether mouthwatering so early in the morning.
Harris discovered that the television news broadcast from outside Sunnydale was operational, and they all listened to the announcer explain that in addition to the bizarre, phenomenon of mass laryngitis infecting the town, there had been a rash of murder/mutilations the previous evening, in which the victims' hearts were removed. A practicing Aztec cult was considered a possible culprit.
As the rest of the gang managed to chatter without sound, pens and markers flying across paper and the signboards, Olivia began to sketch something. She tapped the table to get their attention then held up a drawing of a grinning, skull-faced creature and pointed toward the window. "Last night," she wrote under her drawing.
Giles scrambled for his books. The rest of them made excuses to take off; Buffy announcing that she'd go to the crime scenes, Willow valiantly heading off to class in case anyone else showed, and Xander pointing out that people still need to eat pizza even in the middle of a crisis. They planned to meet at the college later in the day.
Spike enjoyed the little scene that followed as Giles tried to explain some home truths about Sunnydale and his purpose there to his pretty girlfriend. Needless to say, she wasn't impressed or overjoyed by his depictions of monstrous stick figures and bloody corpses, and probably you could've added incredulous to the list, but for the fact that she'd now seen an otherworldly resident with her own eyes. It was always such a kick when humans were forced face to face with the knowledge of the underworld that thrived, hidden, all around them. Of course it was an even bigger kick when you saw that realization dawn in their wide-open eyes right before you bit into them. He chuckled silently as he watched them argue on paper, then lost interest and flicked up the volume on the TV for the Springer show.
He must've dozed off because the next thing he was aware of was Giles tying him to the chair. The Watcher showed him a note explaining that he was going to take some information to the Slayer and that Spike had better behave for Olivia, who was apparently babysitting him. Spike rolled his eyes toward the ropes, raised one brow and opened his hands in the traditional gesture, 'Look, no weapons', but the man continued tying square knots with solid tugs. He ended by giving Spike a loaded stare with an upraised finger, 'Behave!', before gathering up some books and what appeared to be a stack of overhead transparencies illustrated by a child. Giles exchanged a polite peck with his still irritated and overwhelmed paramour then headed out.
The moment the door closed behind him, Spike turned his attention toward Olivia, who was looking at him with some trepidation - obviously his fangy status having been revealed to her, and he flipped on his charm switch. He smiled angelically and lowered his eyelids a little. The birds really dug that. Within thirty minutes, although still tied to the chair, a nice warm mug of blood rested on the table next to him, and Olivia faced him across a Scrabble board. She had loosened his forearms so he could manipulate the letters and he was just forming his second word, "stroke," worth 20 points on a double word score. Olivia rolled her eyes. The word itself was innocuous, but coupled with his previous word, "thrust", and a saucy tongue teasing between his pretty white teeth, it took on a whole new meaning.
Two and a half games of Scrabble, and an episode of "Passions" later, Buffy and Giles returned bearing pizza. Xander was right, people too distraught to cook actually do eat more pizza. The discount coupons with a handy list of toppings to circle, which his boss had made him pass out all over town while wearing a cheesy, pizza-shaped signboard, hadn't hurt business either.
From Olivia, Spike had learned that Giles had identified the mysterious strangers in town. Seems they were the living embodiment of some sort of nursery rhyme. They evidently cut out hearts, which Spike could appreciate, and stole voices, which he didn't get at all. The whole thing had been amusing at first, watching the ever babbling Scoobies get frustrated as they tried to communicate in silence, but it had quickly become just deadly dull. Spike missed the sound of his own voice.
Giles gestured Buffy to untie his houseguest and Spike's skin sang like a high tension wire as she bent over him, loosening knots. A tendril of her hair brushed his arm and he swallowed hard. She kept her eyes on her task and far too soon had finished. Still not meeting his eyes, she jumped up and headed to the kitchen for pizza. Spike followed.
*********
Buffy didn't know what she was doing at Giles' house, perched on the sofa and watching Olivia and Spike pass a dry erase board back and forth. The Scrabble game they'd been engrossed in when she arrived had been abandoned and now it looked like they were having a delightful time sharing memories of the Motherland. Spike was writing one-handed as he stuffed yet another slice of pizza in his face. Olivia looked over to see what he'd written and laughed silently. She took the marker from his hand, added something and he grinned back. Then even Giles joined in, looking over Spike's shoulder and actually smiling appreciatively. Damn Brits with their stupid inside jokes that nobody else thought were funny! Buffy scowled and sipped her Diet Pepsi.
She should just grab a weapon from the chest and leave. That was, after all, the reason she had told Giles she needed to come over. He knew perfectly well she had an arsenal hidden in the trunk in her dorm room, but he didn't question it. So why HAD she come? Buffy looked at the shining blond head bent over the message board. She looked at the ring that glinted on his left hand as he wrote rapidly. She watched his animated face as he gestured toward Olivia, who shook her head and held up four fingers, then two. (What the hell where they talking about?!) And Buffy knew why she had come even though Giles had already shared every scrap of information about the Gentlemen he possessed and all there was left to do was track them down.
The attraction she felt toward Spike was almost primal and as irresistible as positive and negative magnets in proximity. She couldn't have gone through the rest of the day without checking in on him. It had been hard enough yesterday afternoon and evening, and was even harder today. The weird ache in her seemed to be steadily growing instead of dissipating. And the sight of him laughing and shamelessly flirting with Olivia right under Giles' nose, and apparently, totally oblivious to Buffy's presence, was making her crazy! She felt a growl, an actual growl, lurking somewhere down in her chest just waiting to make its way out.
Throwing down the uneaten pizza slice clenched in her fist, Buffy jumped up. Giles, now bent over Spike's shoulder and scribbling his own addition to the board, glanced at her. She gestured toward the weapons chest and he nodded. She took her plate to the kitchen, washed up, selected a blade at random, then cleared her throat to get the others' attention. All three looked up and she smiled, wiggled her fingers goodbye, and nodded her head toward the door.
Olivia quickly wiped the board clean, wrote, "Good Luck!" and held it up for her to see. Giles gave her a thumbs up and a smile. Spike examined his chipped black fingernail polish like it held the secrets of the universe. Buffy left, nearly slamming the door behind her.
It was very early evening, just after sundown. She didn't expect to run across the wacky skull guys for hours yet, but there might be an early- rising fledgling in the graveyard if she was lucky. She really needed to stomp something, soon!
Walking through the silent streets was eerie. Of course there was still traffic noise, air conditioner hum from the houses she passed, and insects seemed immune to having their voices stolen by creepy fairytale folk. But the few people she passed trod silently, listlessly past. A couple of children creaked back and forth on a swing set in their yard, just staring at her as she walked. The weirdest sight of all was a little dog running in circles, yapping soundlessly at nothing in particular. When she got away from town and into the stillness of the cemetery, things started to feel more normal. It was always quiet there. She could always hear the swish, swish of her feet moving through the grass.
As she walked, she unconsciously fiddled with the ring on her finger. It had already become a nervous habit for her left thumb to stroke back and forth across the metal on her ring finger. At first it had been a constant attempt to feel it move, but now it was almost a comfort thing. She forced her hand still.
Suddenly, from a wooded area up ahead, a figure emerged. Buffy froze. The man, in dark commando gear, scanned left and right, but didn't see her. He took off at a run into the heart of the cemetery. She slipped along in his wake like a shadow.
He stopped beside one of the larger mausoleums, unholstered what looked like a stun gun and entered the building. Buffy heard the loud scuffling sound of a fight. Suddenly, from the left came a cadre of four vampires, obviously headed to the crypt, maybe come to pick up their buddies for a night at Willie's. It was pretty clear that commando guy wasn't expecting them.
Buffy hesitated only a second then launched herself at the surprised vamps. She flew into the fight with a kick to one's groin and an elbow to another's face. They both went sprawling. The third stood frozen in front of her, an immovable target, and she drove her stake neatly through his heart. At that the fourth, looking in bewilderment from one pal to another, turned to flee.
Commando guy chose that moment to re-emerge from the crypt. He gave chase and tackled the retreating vampire, knocking her flat. She turned on him like a wildcat, teeth ripping and shredding his Kevlar vest. He raised his arm and drove it down into her face.
Buffy's two vamps were up and at her again. She whirled and delivered a roundhouse kick to one's head, but the other grabbed her foot as it came around and toppled her onto her back. Buffy hit the ground with a solid thud, but a quick handspring later, she was back on her feet. She delivered a series of blows, driving her quarry ahead of her until he was backed against the side of the mausoleum. Her stake entered the monster's chest like a knife through butter, and he dissolved in a rain of glittering dust.
Buffy whirled around ready to face her next opponent and found the soldier had already dispatched his first and was battling the remaining vamp. The creature had the man in a headlock and was punching him in the stomach. When the commando wrenched free, his black hood was torn off and a tousle- haired Riley Finn was revealed. For a split second Buffy and Riley stared at each other, but the last opponent wasn't hesitating. Fangs bared he leaped for Riley's now exposed throat. Buffy, running forward, scooped up the stake she had dropped on the ground and plunged it into the vamp's back. Another shower of pixie dust and the cemetery was suddenly silent, but for the panting of the victors.
Buffy's eyes were huge as she stared at 'average guy' Riley Finn. He was looking repeatedly back and forth from the stake in her hand to her face, as if waiting for the connection to make sense. Just then heavy footsteps could be heard pounding across the ground. Riley looked up sharply then back to Buffy. He motioned to her to take off, opened his mouth to speak, then shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands in an 'I'll explain later' gesture. The thundering herd of commandos was coming closer. Buffy glanced toward the noise, back toward Riley, then at the stand of trees from which she had come. She turned and ran off.
Buffy hid in the woods, watching the team of dark clothed, hulking males regroup and confer. They moved off taking a couple of unconscious vampires from inside the crypt with them. Buffy followed along, keeping a safe distance behind.
Just before the "will be done" spell kicked in two nights ago, Spike had been looking for the air vent from which he had escaped the facility and hadn't been able to find it. Buffy was determined to stick with Riley and his cohorts until they led her their headquarters. It wasn't that she had a problem with scientists operating on vampires to make them harmless, but if a new entity was sharing her slayground she wanted to know who, what and why. Especially, when that group seemed to have government written all over it and one of the members was her new potential boyfriend!
Fifteen minutes of walking brought them to the very back of Sunnydale cemetery which was bordered by a thick woods. The commandos stopped at the base of a little hill, pulled a curtain of interlaced branches aside, punched in an access code and a door slid open in the solid rock. They all entered the dark corridor, Riley pausing before he did so and glancing around as if sensing her presence. The door closed behind them. Buffy guessed there would be a hidden security camera monitoring it and could see there would be no entering without a code, so she simply noted the location so she could find it again, then set off to resume her primary objective for the night - locating the Gentlemen.
The whole opening act of the evening had really taken very little time, and Buffy doubted that her quarry would show itself until much later, so she took a detour to the Espresso Pump. As if her nerves weren't jittery enough from seeing Riley in full army mode, she thought she needed to mainline a jolt of caffeine.
She sipped her double mocha cappuccino with extra foam and thought about men and the way they always lied to you; masquerading as human when they were vampires, sensitive when they were just trying to get laid, and fresh- faced farm boys when they were really special ops. At least Spike, rotten as he was, never tried to appear better, sweeter, or more trustworthy than his nature allowed. She always knew where she stood with good old Spike.
But that wasn't exactly true, was it? If anything, he played a reverse mind game, pretending to be rough, crude, mean and dangerous, when she now knew he had hidden depths of thoughtfulness, caring, gentleness and generosity. So was he still her adversary? Not quite. But he also could hardly be counted a friend. Meanwhile, her body was betraying her and trying to convince her rational mind that he qualified as "lover".
God, Buffy hated when things turned from black and white to numerous shades of gray. It made her head hurt! She crunched down three chocolate dipped biscotti without a pause.
When she had killed as much time as she could at the coffee shop and the night had turned truly black, the Slayer began to walk the town again. She took a sweep through a few of the cemeteries, around the commercial district, the abandoned factories, and the residential areas. Her feet ached and she was totally frustrated, when finally she caught a glimpse of something gliding between the open space between two houses. She ran down the little alley between them and peeked around the corner.
Olivia's drawing had been a faithfully accurate likeness of the otherworldly creature that moved down the street followed by a lackey that jerked along like a poorly operated marionette. The servant went ahead of its master to open the door to a dilapidated building topped by a tower. The Gentlemen acknowledged with a polite nod and the ever-present grin, then smoothly flowed into the building. Buffy, glancing up at the illuminated clock tower (strange, she'd never noticed that building in Sunnydale before!), saw elongated shadows moving back and forth across it. Bingo!!
She waited a few seconds, checking over all her weapons, then entered the building.
***********
It was almost 9:30 and Spike was as bored as he'd ever been in his life. Olivia and Giles had left for a date, leaving him tied to a chair yet again.
"That's it!" Spike decided. "Enough being passed around among these berks like a load of laundry. Don't know why I ever thought I needed their help to begin with. All they've done is cause me more trouble, marry me off to the Slayer, and tie me up. Time to get out and find my own digs." It took him all of ten minutes to wriggle free of the ropes that bound him, find his coat, fill its pockets with blood packs from the fridge, and say fare- thee-well to the Watcher's house.
Walking through the dark streets of Sunnydale, breathing crisp, fresh, night air, he felt better than he had for the past two days. It was great to be his own man again! He turned in at Restfield cemetery and began looking for a likely crypt in which to set up housekeeping. With real estate, it was all about location, location, location. Had to be somewhere out of the way so no humans would intrude, but not so desirable that another vamp might come and kick him out. Near some power and water lines would be good. And if it was within a meter or two of a sewer entrance, he could come and go all over Sunnydale as he pleased even on the brightest day. It was a tall order, but Spike felt newly energized and convinced he could find the perfect home.
As he strode jauntily along, he found his thumb running over that sodding ring again. It was like picking at an itchy scab. He just couldn't leave it alone. Spike changed his mind about who he'd kill first when he got the chip out. It would definitely be Willow. The little witch had ruined his life with her mismanaged will-be-done spell.
The funny part was that he wasn't angry about what he ought to be angry about. It wasn't the humiliation of having been forced to play lovey-dovey with the Slayer that pissed him off. Instead he found himself raging because he felt robbed. It was as if he'd had a precious gift dropped unexpectedly right into his hands and before he'd even had a chance to admire it the gift had been snatched away again leaving his hands cold and empty.
He hated to admit it even inside his own mind, but for the first time ever, Spike had experienced true contentment. Snuggled next to Buffy like a pair of puppies in a basket, and talking quietly, had been the happiest moment of his life - human or vampiric. Spike had always been big on concepts like passion, rage, glory, and violence and dismissed the idea of contentment as boring. Now he knew the truth of it and he couldn't go back. Contentment was all happiness, joy and blessed relief combined. In that perfect moment with Buffy, suspended in time, he didn't have to posture and boast or pretend to be stronger than he felt. He just had to BE. It was downright liberating. And now it was gone.
He sighed. This wasn't a night for dwelling. He'd done enough of that over the past two days to last him a decade. Time for action. Ah, there was a likely prospect. He froze in the shadow of a tree as he observed the entrance to an ivy-shrouded, gray stone building. Nothing came or went for a full five minutes. He approached, and the door creaked open at his touch. He froze again. Listened for a heartbeat. Sniffed the air to catch a scent. There was nothing. No one.
He entered the cobweb-draped room, slipping into game face so his preternatural sight could pierce the gloom. A couple of toppled urns were near the door. A sarcophagus was the focal point of the room - perfect for a table or bed. One multi-paned window let in just a little moonlight and was grimy enough that it would also let in very little sun during the day. Just enough to read by. He roamed toward the back of the room and found an opening that led down to another level. It just got better and better!
After pausing and scenting the air again, he jumped down to the bottom floor, which was scattered with bones, rat droppings and a thick layer of dust. Ooh, this would clean up nicely. And when Spike turned around an outcropping of rock and found the opening of a tunnel and smelled the scent of the sewer beyond it, he knew he'd come home.
Leaving the crypt to gather supplies at the junkyard, he took a different route through the cemetery. It wouldn't do to let hidden eyes see him come and go from his new domicile. He'd have to take extreme precautions to keep a low profile in his present vulnerable state. A first night fledgling could kick his ass from here to Sunday the shape he was in. Damn labcoats! Maybe they would be his first meal as soon as he'd forced 'em to remove the chip. Which he would. Oh yes! Somehow he would.
On his way to the junkyard, Spike got sidetracked at Willie's. He'd nicked a twenty from the Watcher's bureau top and so had enough to stand him several pints. It was weird sitting at the bar and hearing nothing but the jukebox. But even in the total silence a pair of Xagrox demon managed to enrage themselves into a fight just by looking wrong at each other, so after all it was a pretty normal evening at Willie's minus the grunting, snorting and cursing of the clientele. By the time Spike left it was well after midnight and he was feeling better and more himself than ever. Just a normal vamp out for a night's stroll. He felt he could take on anything.
As he slipped through the night, he caught something moving from the corner of his eye. His head snapped around and he observed the creepiest thing he'd seen in a long existence full of creepy things. A pair of figures dressed in impeccable suits, with ghastly grins etched across skeletal faces were gliding along, feet poised just above the ground. Capering around them where some kind of Renfieldian minions. They looked like they couldn't pack much of a punch what with the loose-limbed flinging themselves about, but Spike was in no position to find out. He followed along behind, moving from shadow to shadow. If these were the voice- stealers, he intended to find out where they were holed up.
The Gentlemen moved smoothly through the town, occasionally pointing toward a house and conferring together with exaggerated hand movements. They soon met up with another pair sweeping in from the south side of town, also followed by loony looking underlings who appeared a bit bloodstained and disheveled. Odds were it was another heart they had in the box they carried. The four jolly looking death-heads greeted each other silently with nods, then moved on purposefully toward a weather-beaten building topped by a clock tower. Strange, Spike thought, he'd never noticed that in Sunnydale before.
After the bizarre troupe entered the building, Spike stood uncertainly outside it, wondering if he should go get the Slayer and her gang. But the more he thought about it, the more it made him feel like Lassie, and he refused to go running to the Scoobies for help. He followed the Gentlemen inside and crept up the rickety stairway, staying well behind them. There must be some way he could trick these blighters or steal the collective vocal power of the community back and run like hell with it. If he could just observe them undetected, suss out where and how they were keeping it, and...Oof! Spike crashed down the stairs under the weight of one of the footservants who had jumped him from the landing above.
Blow after blow thudded into his face as he twisted and turned under the creature which straddled him. Finally, with a silent roar of rage, Spike vamped out and surged upward throwing his assailant off. He aimed a savage kick to the thing's ribs and prepared for the backlash of pain his head was now conditioned to expect. Nothing! He kicked it again, then ground his heel savagely into its ugly face. Still nothing! With another silent roar of pure joy (and the silence was truly pissing him off now) he launched a full attack on the now cowering creature, whaling on it with all the suppressed fury of the past few weeks.
He hit and hit and hit until he realized the thing's head was a bloody pulp and it hadn't been moving for quite awhile, then he tore off up the stairs to see what more damage he could do to these voice stealing freaks.
Hurtling up the final steps and crashing through the door at the top, Spike found himself suddenly in the middle of a raging battle. The Slayer had beaten him to the party and was working her way through minions like a policeman through doughnuts. The vampire registered the fact that none of the Gentlemen were present, only their puppets, then threw himself into the fight, punching and kicking with abandon.
Part of him was well aware of Buffy's presence off to his left, doing some kind of fancy cartwheel that ended up with her feet on the chest of her opponent. God, he loved to watch the girl fight! A stinging blow to the temple brought his attention back to his own adversary. He ripped into it with his fangs and tore a good chunk out of the creature's throat. It tasted bitter and nasty. He spit the gobbet of flesh and blood out immediately.
As Spike dealt with his next customer, he saw Buffy charge up the flight of stairs which must lead to the inner workings of the clock. He picked the lackey up, broke its spine over his knee, and tossed it aside, then followed the Slayer upstairs.
In the murky shadows, among the cogs and wheels of the clock machinery, the Gentlemen were waiting. Buffy was struggling with a servant as one of the Gentlemen glided toward her, grinning from ear to ear and brandishing a surgeon's blade. Catching Spike's eye, Buffy furiously gestured toward the table. He scanned its surface and saw, amidst the scalpels, knives and other sharp, heart-removing instruments, a decorative box.
He nodded, grabbed one of the table legs and tore it off, causing the objects on top to scatter across the floor, he located the box again in the corner of the room, then bashed it to smithereens with the table leg. Immediately he felt a funny stricture in his throat, as if he'd swallowed a vampire's worth of dust. He coughed and a quiet little, "Hey!" came puffing out.
Buffy, twisting free of the last minion and snapping its neck in the process, opened her mouth and SCREAMED! She screamed at decibels that had dogs two towns over howling in pain. Spike covered his ears. The Gentlemen clutched at their heads and began to quiver and shake in a fascinating way until...whump...whumpwhump...whump. Their heads exploded like overripe tomatoes.
Goo spewed out of their gaping neck holes. The slime reminded Spike of that Nickolodeon show, not that he'd ever watched it or anything. The bodies collapsed like falling dominoes. And, finally, Buffy stopped screaming.
Spike blinked as he looked around. He shook a streamer of slime off his coat. He exchanged bemused stares with Buffy. Then he began to laugh. He threw his head back and roared with laughter. The cumulative strain of being bewitched twice in the past few days, harboring unmentionable feelings toward the Slayer, and the release of finding he could kill again, combined with the hilarious sight of the Gentlemen popping like so many pimples, all drove him into near hysterics. He laughed 'til tears streamed down his face.
Meanwhile, Buffy rose from her crouch on the floor and meandered over to where the Gentlemen lay. She toed one distastefully with the tip of her shoe. Then she looked over at Spike, shaking with laughter and wiping at his eyes. She shook her head and sighed.
"You are one sick puppy, Spike."
"And you...have got one good set of lungs on you." His gaze dropped from her face to her breasts. "Course, I already knew that," he said with a leer.
She rolled her eyes at his lame pun, then walked toward the illuminated face of the clock and peered up at it. "Hey!" She started to turn toward him. "How did you end up here anyw......." The rotten wood of the floor gave way beneath her weight. Her body broke through, as her hands flailed uselessly at the air.
For a split second, Spike froze, trying to process what he was seeing. Then he threw himself down in a full body sprawl across the floor, trying to keep his weight away from the hole, and reached for the Slayer. He grabbed her wrist in one hand as she disappeared below floor level.
In that brief moment, a myriad of thoughts burst through his head. How had the floor collapsed under Buffy's slight weight? Her wrist in his hand felt as thin and delicate as bird bones. Why the hell was he saving his mortal enemy? Oh right, his life was temporarily connected to hers by the ring....maybe. Besides, the Slayer deserved to die in battle, not like this. Not from a stupid fall from a tower. It wasn't fitting. And wasn't her skin warm under his hand? Didn't it feel great? Her little head bobbing up above the edge of the floor was so golden and fine. And her wide hazel eyes, when they met his, told him she had perfect faith that he would be able to do it - to pull her up.
He gritted his teeth and yanked even harder on her arm, hauling her body halfway out of the hole. She reached out for him and he grasped her other wrist in his right hand and pulled with a harsh grunt. It wasn't that this slip of a girl was heavy, but the angle was awkward and the floor was crumbling away.
With a last heave, he pulled her out and scrambled backward pulling her body over the warped boards and into his arms. The floor creaked ominously. They froze, wrapped around each other, and waited to see if they would both crash through. A few seconds passed. Nothing happened. Spike could feel Buffy's heart pounding in her chest, pressed so tight to his that it felt as if his own heart was beating.
She lay in his arms heaving huge gasping breaths, and he could feel every inch of her right through his clothes; warm, pulsating, alive. The way his body was buzzing with adrenalin made him feel as if he were living, too. Spike froze, afraid to move so much as a muscle lest he break the spell.
Buffy lifted her head off his shoulder and pulled away a little. He felt physical pain at the separation and a stab of disappointment. Then her face was filling his sight, her beautiful eyes were his universe, and she was moving toward him. He let his own eyes drift shut and opened his other senses; smelling her hair, hearing her sharply indrawn breath, feeling the skin of her forearms sliding under his hands, and finally tasting....tasting her soft mouth sliding across his.
Her lips brushed over him, soft as a butterfly at first, and he responded just as delicately. Little nibbling kisses that fluttered around the edges of something much stronger and deeper. Then her tongue darted out and stroked lightly, teasingly over his lips, and the dam broke. His hands clutched convulsively at her arms, her body, stroking down her back, grasping her hips, wandering everywhere he could reach, while his mouth devoured her hungrily.
Buffy crushed against him just as desperately, her hot tongue sweeping the inside of his cool mouth, one hand bunching up his shirt in a firm grip, the other cradling the nape of his neck and pulling him into an even deeper contact. Spike growled and pushed against her where she straddled his lap. She ground into him with her pelvis, and pulled her panting mouth away only to trail kisses down his jaw and neck. She lapped across his collarbone and he squirmed beneath her.
"Oh, Buffy," he moaned, and at the sound the enchanted moment was broken. She sat up and stared at him, then down at her hands half pushed up under his shirt, caressing his stomach. She pulled them back as though burned.
"Oh my god. What am I doing?" she murmured, then slid off his lap and bolted down the stairs of the tower.
To be continued....
Spike woke with someone shaking him, then striking a sharp blow to his head.
"What the hell?" he tried to yell. His eyes opened to find Harris' face, inches away, screaming soundlessly at him. Obviously from the lad's expression he was blaming Spike for something or other.
"What?" he began again, but there was still no sound. A light dawned. They must be under a spell. The little red witch had been at it again. Damn lucky he hadn't woken to find himself in bed with the stupid blighter. Spike glared, as the kid kept shaking him by the shoulders, and looked meaningfully down to his bonds.
Harris took a step back, realizing Spike couldn't have caused this, then rushed for the phone. The vampire rolled his eyes at the idiocy inherent in the act and smirked at the boy's reaction when he realized phones were useless without a voice.
Xander dressed quickly, untied Spike, and dragged him off to the Watcher's house again. Giles ushered them in and soundlessly introduced his lady friend, holding up a scribbled note that read, "Olivia."
Then Buffy and Willow arrived, wearing matching signboards. When Xander pointed at the witch and raised his eyebrows, she shook her head furiously and wrote, "It wasn't me!" on her board. Meanwhile, Buffy was writing quickly and held up her message, "It's all over town." She caught sight of Spike and he dropped his gaze, afraid she could read his fantasies from the previous night on his face. But the moment she bent her head to write an answer to a question from Giles, his eyes were right back on her. He wondered how anyone could possibly look so perky and sunshiny and altogether mouthwatering so early in the morning.
Harris discovered that the television news broadcast from outside Sunnydale was operational, and they all listened to the announcer explain that in addition to the bizarre, phenomenon of mass laryngitis infecting the town, there had been a rash of murder/mutilations the previous evening, in which the victims' hearts were removed. A practicing Aztec cult was considered a possible culprit.
As the rest of the gang managed to chatter without sound, pens and markers flying across paper and the signboards, Olivia began to sketch something. She tapped the table to get their attention then held up a drawing of a grinning, skull-faced creature and pointed toward the window. "Last night," she wrote under her drawing.
Giles scrambled for his books. The rest of them made excuses to take off; Buffy announcing that she'd go to the crime scenes, Willow valiantly heading off to class in case anyone else showed, and Xander pointing out that people still need to eat pizza even in the middle of a crisis. They planned to meet at the college later in the day.
Spike enjoyed the little scene that followed as Giles tried to explain some home truths about Sunnydale and his purpose there to his pretty girlfriend. Needless to say, she wasn't impressed or overjoyed by his depictions of monstrous stick figures and bloody corpses, and probably you could've added incredulous to the list, but for the fact that she'd now seen an otherworldly resident with her own eyes. It was always such a kick when humans were forced face to face with the knowledge of the underworld that thrived, hidden, all around them. Of course it was an even bigger kick when you saw that realization dawn in their wide-open eyes right before you bit into them. He chuckled silently as he watched them argue on paper, then lost interest and flicked up the volume on the TV for the Springer show.
He must've dozed off because the next thing he was aware of was Giles tying him to the chair. The Watcher showed him a note explaining that he was going to take some information to the Slayer and that Spike had better behave for Olivia, who was apparently babysitting him. Spike rolled his eyes toward the ropes, raised one brow and opened his hands in the traditional gesture, 'Look, no weapons', but the man continued tying square knots with solid tugs. He ended by giving Spike a loaded stare with an upraised finger, 'Behave!', before gathering up some books and what appeared to be a stack of overhead transparencies illustrated by a child. Giles exchanged a polite peck with his still irritated and overwhelmed paramour then headed out.
The moment the door closed behind him, Spike turned his attention toward Olivia, who was looking at him with some trepidation - obviously his fangy status having been revealed to her, and he flipped on his charm switch. He smiled angelically and lowered his eyelids a little. The birds really dug that. Within thirty minutes, although still tied to the chair, a nice warm mug of blood rested on the table next to him, and Olivia faced him across a Scrabble board. She had loosened his forearms so he could manipulate the letters and he was just forming his second word, "stroke," worth 20 points on a double word score. Olivia rolled her eyes. The word itself was innocuous, but coupled with his previous word, "thrust", and a saucy tongue teasing between his pretty white teeth, it took on a whole new meaning.
Two and a half games of Scrabble, and an episode of "Passions" later, Buffy and Giles returned bearing pizza. Xander was right, people too distraught to cook actually do eat more pizza. The discount coupons with a handy list of toppings to circle, which his boss had made him pass out all over town while wearing a cheesy, pizza-shaped signboard, hadn't hurt business either.
From Olivia, Spike had learned that Giles had identified the mysterious strangers in town. Seems they were the living embodiment of some sort of nursery rhyme. They evidently cut out hearts, which Spike could appreciate, and stole voices, which he didn't get at all. The whole thing had been amusing at first, watching the ever babbling Scoobies get frustrated as they tried to communicate in silence, but it had quickly become just deadly dull. Spike missed the sound of his own voice.
Giles gestured Buffy to untie his houseguest and Spike's skin sang like a high tension wire as she bent over him, loosening knots. A tendril of her hair brushed his arm and he swallowed hard. She kept her eyes on her task and far too soon had finished. Still not meeting his eyes, she jumped up and headed to the kitchen for pizza. Spike followed.
*********
Buffy didn't know what she was doing at Giles' house, perched on the sofa and watching Olivia and Spike pass a dry erase board back and forth. The Scrabble game they'd been engrossed in when she arrived had been abandoned and now it looked like they were having a delightful time sharing memories of the Motherland. Spike was writing one-handed as he stuffed yet another slice of pizza in his face. Olivia looked over to see what he'd written and laughed silently. She took the marker from his hand, added something and he grinned back. Then even Giles joined in, looking over Spike's shoulder and actually smiling appreciatively. Damn Brits with their stupid inside jokes that nobody else thought were funny! Buffy scowled and sipped her Diet Pepsi.
She should just grab a weapon from the chest and leave. That was, after all, the reason she had told Giles she needed to come over. He knew perfectly well she had an arsenal hidden in the trunk in her dorm room, but he didn't question it. So why HAD she come? Buffy looked at the shining blond head bent over the message board. She looked at the ring that glinted on his left hand as he wrote rapidly. She watched his animated face as he gestured toward Olivia, who shook her head and held up four fingers, then two. (What the hell where they talking about?!) And Buffy knew why she had come even though Giles had already shared every scrap of information about the Gentlemen he possessed and all there was left to do was track them down.
The attraction she felt toward Spike was almost primal and as irresistible as positive and negative magnets in proximity. She couldn't have gone through the rest of the day without checking in on him. It had been hard enough yesterday afternoon and evening, and was even harder today. The weird ache in her seemed to be steadily growing instead of dissipating. And the sight of him laughing and shamelessly flirting with Olivia right under Giles' nose, and apparently, totally oblivious to Buffy's presence, was making her crazy! She felt a growl, an actual growl, lurking somewhere down in her chest just waiting to make its way out.
Throwing down the uneaten pizza slice clenched in her fist, Buffy jumped up. Giles, now bent over Spike's shoulder and scribbling his own addition to the board, glanced at her. She gestured toward the weapons chest and he nodded. She took her plate to the kitchen, washed up, selected a blade at random, then cleared her throat to get the others' attention. All three looked up and she smiled, wiggled her fingers goodbye, and nodded her head toward the door.
Olivia quickly wiped the board clean, wrote, "Good Luck!" and held it up for her to see. Giles gave her a thumbs up and a smile. Spike examined his chipped black fingernail polish like it held the secrets of the universe. Buffy left, nearly slamming the door behind her.
It was very early evening, just after sundown. She didn't expect to run across the wacky skull guys for hours yet, but there might be an early- rising fledgling in the graveyard if she was lucky. She really needed to stomp something, soon!
Walking through the silent streets was eerie. Of course there was still traffic noise, air conditioner hum from the houses she passed, and insects seemed immune to having their voices stolen by creepy fairytale folk. But the few people she passed trod silently, listlessly past. A couple of children creaked back and forth on a swing set in their yard, just staring at her as she walked. The weirdest sight of all was a little dog running in circles, yapping soundlessly at nothing in particular. When she got away from town and into the stillness of the cemetery, things started to feel more normal. It was always quiet there. She could always hear the swish, swish of her feet moving through the grass.
As she walked, she unconsciously fiddled with the ring on her finger. It had already become a nervous habit for her left thumb to stroke back and forth across the metal on her ring finger. At first it had been a constant attempt to feel it move, but now it was almost a comfort thing. She forced her hand still.
Suddenly, from a wooded area up ahead, a figure emerged. Buffy froze. The man, in dark commando gear, scanned left and right, but didn't see her. He took off at a run into the heart of the cemetery. She slipped along in his wake like a shadow.
He stopped beside one of the larger mausoleums, unholstered what looked like a stun gun and entered the building. Buffy heard the loud scuffling sound of a fight. Suddenly, from the left came a cadre of four vampires, obviously headed to the crypt, maybe come to pick up their buddies for a night at Willie's. It was pretty clear that commando guy wasn't expecting them.
Buffy hesitated only a second then launched herself at the surprised vamps. She flew into the fight with a kick to one's groin and an elbow to another's face. They both went sprawling. The third stood frozen in front of her, an immovable target, and she drove her stake neatly through his heart. At that the fourth, looking in bewilderment from one pal to another, turned to flee.
Commando guy chose that moment to re-emerge from the crypt. He gave chase and tackled the retreating vampire, knocking her flat. She turned on him like a wildcat, teeth ripping and shredding his Kevlar vest. He raised his arm and drove it down into her face.
Buffy's two vamps were up and at her again. She whirled and delivered a roundhouse kick to one's head, but the other grabbed her foot as it came around and toppled her onto her back. Buffy hit the ground with a solid thud, but a quick handspring later, she was back on her feet. She delivered a series of blows, driving her quarry ahead of her until he was backed against the side of the mausoleum. Her stake entered the monster's chest like a knife through butter, and he dissolved in a rain of glittering dust.
Buffy whirled around ready to face her next opponent and found the soldier had already dispatched his first and was battling the remaining vamp. The creature had the man in a headlock and was punching him in the stomach. When the commando wrenched free, his black hood was torn off and a tousle- haired Riley Finn was revealed. For a split second Buffy and Riley stared at each other, but the last opponent wasn't hesitating. Fangs bared he leaped for Riley's now exposed throat. Buffy, running forward, scooped up the stake she had dropped on the ground and plunged it into the vamp's back. Another shower of pixie dust and the cemetery was suddenly silent, but for the panting of the victors.
Buffy's eyes were huge as she stared at 'average guy' Riley Finn. He was looking repeatedly back and forth from the stake in her hand to her face, as if waiting for the connection to make sense. Just then heavy footsteps could be heard pounding across the ground. Riley looked up sharply then back to Buffy. He motioned to her to take off, opened his mouth to speak, then shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands in an 'I'll explain later' gesture. The thundering herd of commandos was coming closer. Buffy glanced toward the noise, back toward Riley, then at the stand of trees from which she had come. She turned and ran off.
Buffy hid in the woods, watching the team of dark clothed, hulking males regroup and confer. They moved off taking a couple of unconscious vampires from inside the crypt with them. Buffy followed along, keeping a safe distance behind.
Just before the "will be done" spell kicked in two nights ago, Spike had been looking for the air vent from which he had escaped the facility and hadn't been able to find it. Buffy was determined to stick with Riley and his cohorts until they led her their headquarters. It wasn't that she had a problem with scientists operating on vampires to make them harmless, but if a new entity was sharing her slayground she wanted to know who, what and why. Especially, when that group seemed to have government written all over it and one of the members was her new potential boyfriend!
Fifteen minutes of walking brought them to the very back of Sunnydale cemetery which was bordered by a thick woods. The commandos stopped at the base of a little hill, pulled a curtain of interlaced branches aside, punched in an access code and a door slid open in the solid rock. They all entered the dark corridor, Riley pausing before he did so and glancing around as if sensing her presence. The door closed behind them. Buffy guessed there would be a hidden security camera monitoring it and could see there would be no entering without a code, so she simply noted the location so she could find it again, then set off to resume her primary objective for the night - locating the Gentlemen.
The whole opening act of the evening had really taken very little time, and Buffy doubted that her quarry would show itself until much later, so she took a detour to the Espresso Pump. As if her nerves weren't jittery enough from seeing Riley in full army mode, she thought she needed to mainline a jolt of caffeine.
She sipped her double mocha cappuccino with extra foam and thought about men and the way they always lied to you; masquerading as human when they were vampires, sensitive when they were just trying to get laid, and fresh- faced farm boys when they were really special ops. At least Spike, rotten as he was, never tried to appear better, sweeter, or more trustworthy than his nature allowed. She always knew where she stood with good old Spike.
But that wasn't exactly true, was it? If anything, he played a reverse mind game, pretending to be rough, crude, mean and dangerous, when she now knew he had hidden depths of thoughtfulness, caring, gentleness and generosity. So was he still her adversary? Not quite. But he also could hardly be counted a friend. Meanwhile, her body was betraying her and trying to convince her rational mind that he qualified as "lover".
God, Buffy hated when things turned from black and white to numerous shades of gray. It made her head hurt! She crunched down three chocolate dipped biscotti without a pause.
When she had killed as much time as she could at the coffee shop and the night had turned truly black, the Slayer began to walk the town again. She took a sweep through a few of the cemeteries, around the commercial district, the abandoned factories, and the residential areas. Her feet ached and she was totally frustrated, when finally she caught a glimpse of something gliding between the open space between two houses. She ran down the little alley between them and peeked around the corner.
Olivia's drawing had been a faithfully accurate likeness of the otherworldly creature that moved down the street followed by a lackey that jerked along like a poorly operated marionette. The servant went ahead of its master to open the door to a dilapidated building topped by a tower. The Gentlemen acknowledged with a polite nod and the ever-present grin, then smoothly flowed into the building. Buffy, glancing up at the illuminated clock tower (strange, she'd never noticed that building in Sunnydale before!), saw elongated shadows moving back and forth across it. Bingo!!
She waited a few seconds, checking over all her weapons, then entered the building.
***********
It was almost 9:30 and Spike was as bored as he'd ever been in his life. Olivia and Giles had left for a date, leaving him tied to a chair yet again.
"That's it!" Spike decided. "Enough being passed around among these berks like a load of laundry. Don't know why I ever thought I needed their help to begin with. All they've done is cause me more trouble, marry me off to the Slayer, and tie me up. Time to get out and find my own digs." It took him all of ten minutes to wriggle free of the ropes that bound him, find his coat, fill its pockets with blood packs from the fridge, and say fare- thee-well to the Watcher's house.
Walking through the dark streets of Sunnydale, breathing crisp, fresh, night air, he felt better than he had for the past two days. It was great to be his own man again! He turned in at Restfield cemetery and began looking for a likely crypt in which to set up housekeeping. With real estate, it was all about location, location, location. Had to be somewhere out of the way so no humans would intrude, but not so desirable that another vamp might come and kick him out. Near some power and water lines would be good. And if it was within a meter or two of a sewer entrance, he could come and go all over Sunnydale as he pleased even on the brightest day. It was a tall order, but Spike felt newly energized and convinced he could find the perfect home.
As he strode jauntily along, he found his thumb running over that sodding ring again. It was like picking at an itchy scab. He just couldn't leave it alone. Spike changed his mind about who he'd kill first when he got the chip out. It would definitely be Willow. The little witch had ruined his life with her mismanaged will-be-done spell.
The funny part was that he wasn't angry about what he ought to be angry about. It wasn't the humiliation of having been forced to play lovey-dovey with the Slayer that pissed him off. Instead he found himself raging because he felt robbed. It was as if he'd had a precious gift dropped unexpectedly right into his hands and before he'd even had a chance to admire it the gift had been snatched away again leaving his hands cold and empty.
He hated to admit it even inside his own mind, but for the first time ever, Spike had experienced true contentment. Snuggled next to Buffy like a pair of puppies in a basket, and talking quietly, had been the happiest moment of his life - human or vampiric. Spike had always been big on concepts like passion, rage, glory, and violence and dismissed the idea of contentment as boring. Now he knew the truth of it and he couldn't go back. Contentment was all happiness, joy and blessed relief combined. In that perfect moment with Buffy, suspended in time, he didn't have to posture and boast or pretend to be stronger than he felt. He just had to BE. It was downright liberating. And now it was gone.
He sighed. This wasn't a night for dwelling. He'd done enough of that over the past two days to last him a decade. Time for action. Ah, there was a likely prospect. He froze in the shadow of a tree as he observed the entrance to an ivy-shrouded, gray stone building. Nothing came or went for a full five minutes. He approached, and the door creaked open at his touch. He froze again. Listened for a heartbeat. Sniffed the air to catch a scent. There was nothing. No one.
He entered the cobweb-draped room, slipping into game face so his preternatural sight could pierce the gloom. A couple of toppled urns were near the door. A sarcophagus was the focal point of the room - perfect for a table or bed. One multi-paned window let in just a little moonlight and was grimy enough that it would also let in very little sun during the day. Just enough to read by. He roamed toward the back of the room and found an opening that led down to another level. It just got better and better!
After pausing and scenting the air again, he jumped down to the bottom floor, which was scattered with bones, rat droppings and a thick layer of dust. Ooh, this would clean up nicely. And when Spike turned around an outcropping of rock and found the opening of a tunnel and smelled the scent of the sewer beyond it, he knew he'd come home.
Leaving the crypt to gather supplies at the junkyard, he took a different route through the cemetery. It wouldn't do to let hidden eyes see him come and go from his new domicile. He'd have to take extreme precautions to keep a low profile in his present vulnerable state. A first night fledgling could kick his ass from here to Sunday the shape he was in. Damn labcoats! Maybe they would be his first meal as soon as he'd forced 'em to remove the chip. Which he would. Oh yes! Somehow he would.
On his way to the junkyard, Spike got sidetracked at Willie's. He'd nicked a twenty from the Watcher's bureau top and so had enough to stand him several pints. It was weird sitting at the bar and hearing nothing but the jukebox. But even in the total silence a pair of Xagrox demon managed to enrage themselves into a fight just by looking wrong at each other, so after all it was a pretty normal evening at Willie's minus the grunting, snorting and cursing of the clientele. By the time Spike left it was well after midnight and he was feeling better and more himself than ever. Just a normal vamp out for a night's stroll. He felt he could take on anything.
As he slipped through the night, he caught something moving from the corner of his eye. His head snapped around and he observed the creepiest thing he'd seen in a long existence full of creepy things. A pair of figures dressed in impeccable suits, with ghastly grins etched across skeletal faces were gliding along, feet poised just above the ground. Capering around them where some kind of Renfieldian minions. They looked like they couldn't pack much of a punch what with the loose-limbed flinging themselves about, but Spike was in no position to find out. He followed along behind, moving from shadow to shadow. If these were the voice- stealers, he intended to find out where they were holed up.
The Gentlemen moved smoothly through the town, occasionally pointing toward a house and conferring together with exaggerated hand movements. They soon met up with another pair sweeping in from the south side of town, also followed by loony looking underlings who appeared a bit bloodstained and disheveled. Odds were it was another heart they had in the box they carried. The four jolly looking death-heads greeted each other silently with nods, then moved on purposefully toward a weather-beaten building topped by a clock tower. Strange, Spike thought, he'd never noticed that in Sunnydale before.
After the bizarre troupe entered the building, Spike stood uncertainly outside it, wondering if he should go get the Slayer and her gang. But the more he thought about it, the more it made him feel like Lassie, and he refused to go running to the Scoobies for help. He followed the Gentlemen inside and crept up the rickety stairway, staying well behind them. There must be some way he could trick these blighters or steal the collective vocal power of the community back and run like hell with it. If he could just observe them undetected, suss out where and how they were keeping it, and...Oof! Spike crashed down the stairs under the weight of one of the footservants who had jumped him from the landing above.
Blow after blow thudded into his face as he twisted and turned under the creature which straddled him. Finally, with a silent roar of rage, Spike vamped out and surged upward throwing his assailant off. He aimed a savage kick to the thing's ribs and prepared for the backlash of pain his head was now conditioned to expect. Nothing! He kicked it again, then ground his heel savagely into its ugly face. Still nothing! With another silent roar of pure joy (and the silence was truly pissing him off now) he launched a full attack on the now cowering creature, whaling on it with all the suppressed fury of the past few weeks.
He hit and hit and hit until he realized the thing's head was a bloody pulp and it hadn't been moving for quite awhile, then he tore off up the stairs to see what more damage he could do to these voice stealing freaks.
Hurtling up the final steps and crashing through the door at the top, Spike found himself suddenly in the middle of a raging battle. The Slayer had beaten him to the party and was working her way through minions like a policeman through doughnuts. The vampire registered the fact that none of the Gentlemen were present, only their puppets, then threw himself into the fight, punching and kicking with abandon.
Part of him was well aware of Buffy's presence off to his left, doing some kind of fancy cartwheel that ended up with her feet on the chest of her opponent. God, he loved to watch the girl fight! A stinging blow to the temple brought his attention back to his own adversary. He ripped into it with his fangs and tore a good chunk out of the creature's throat. It tasted bitter and nasty. He spit the gobbet of flesh and blood out immediately.
As Spike dealt with his next customer, he saw Buffy charge up the flight of stairs which must lead to the inner workings of the clock. He picked the lackey up, broke its spine over his knee, and tossed it aside, then followed the Slayer upstairs.
In the murky shadows, among the cogs and wheels of the clock machinery, the Gentlemen were waiting. Buffy was struggling with a servant as one of the Gentlemen glided toward her, grinning from ear to ear and brandishing a surgeon's blade. Catching Spike's eye, Buffy furiously gestured toward the table. He scanned its surface and saw, amidst the scalpels, knives and other sharp, heart-removing instruments, a decorative box.
He nodded, grabbed one of the table legs and tore it off, causing the objects on top to scatter across the floor, he located the box again in the corner of the room, then bashed it to smithereens with the table leg. Immediately he felt a funny stricture in his throat, as if he'd swallowed a vampire's worth of dust. He coughed and a quiet little, "Hey!" came puffing out.
Buffy, twisting free of the last minion and snapping its neck in the process, opened her mouth and SCREAMED! She screamed at decibels that had dogs two towns over howling in pain. Spike covered his ears. The Gentlemen clutched at their heads and began to quiver and shake in a fascinating way until...whump...whumpwhump...whump. Their heads exploded like overripe tomatoes.
Goo spewed out of their gaping neck holes. The slime reminded Spike of that Nickolodeon show, not that he'd ever watched it or anything. The bodies collapsed like falling dominoes. And, finally, Buffy stopped screaming.
Spike blinked as he looked around. He shook a streamer of slime off his coat. He exchanged bemused stares with Buffy. Then he began to laugh. He threw his head back and roared with laughter. The cumulative strain of being bewitched twice in the past few days, harboring unmentionable feelings toward the Slayer, and the release of finding he could kill again, combined with the hilarious sight of the Gentlemen popping like so many pimples, all drove him into near hysterics. He laughed 'til tears streamed down his face.
Meanwhile, Buffy rose from her crouch on the floor and meandered over to where the Gentlemen lay. She toed one distastefully with the tip of her shoe. Then she looked over at Spike, shaking with laughter and wiping at his eyes. She shook her head and sighed.
"You are one sick puppy, Spike."
"And you...have got one good set of lungs on you." His gaze dropped from her face to her breasts. "Course, I already knew that," he said with a leer.
She rolled her eyes at his lame pun, then walked toward the illuminated face of the clock and peered up at it. "Hey!" She started to turn toward him. "How did you end up here anyw......." The rotten wood of the floor gave way beneath her weight. Her body broke through, as her hands flailed uselessly at the air.
For a split second, Spike froze, trying to process what he was seeing. Then he threw himself down in a full body sprawl across the floor, trying to keep his weight away from the hole, and reached for the Slayer. He grabbed her wrist in one hand as she disappeared below floor level.
In that brief moment, a myriad of thoughts burst through his head. How had the floor collapsed under Buffy's slight weight? Her wrist in his hand felt as thin and delicate as bird bones. Why the hell was he saving his mortal enemy? Oh right, his life was temporarily connected to hers by the ring....maybe. Besides, the Slayer deserved to die in battle, not like this. Not from a stupid fall from a tower. It wasn't fitting. And wasn't her skin warm under his hand? Didn't it feel great? Her little head bobbing up above the edge of the floor was so golden and fine. And her wide hazel eyes, when they met his, told him she had perfect faith that he would be able to do it - to pull her up.
He gritted his teeth and yanked even harder on her arm, hauling her body halfway out of the hole. She reached out for him and he grasped her other wrist in his right hand and pulled with a harsh grunt. It wasn't that this slip of a girl was heavy, but the angle was awkward and the floor was crumbling away.
With a last heave, he pulled her out and scrambled backward pulling her body over the warped boards and into his arms. The floor creaked ominously. They froze, wrapped around each other, and waited to see if they would both crash through. A few seconds passed. Nothing happened. Spike could feel Buffy's heart pounding in her chest, pressed so tight to his that it felt as if his own heart was beating.
She lay in his arms heaving huge gasping breaths, and he could feel every inch of her right through his clothes; warm, pulsating, alive. The way his body was buzzing with adrenalin made him feel as if he were living, too. Spike froze, afraid to move so much as a muscle lest he break the spell.
Buffy lifted her head off his shoulder and pulled away a little. He felt physical pain at the separation and a stab of disappointment. Then her face was filling his sight, her beautiful eyes were his universe, and she was moving toward him. He let his own eyes drift shut and opened his other senses; smelling her hair, hearing her sharply indrawn breath, feeling the skin of her forearms sliding under his hands, and finally tasting....tasting her soft mouth sliding across his.
Her lips brushed over him, soft as a butterfly at first, and he responded just as delicately. Little nibbling kisses that fluttered around the edges of something much stronger and deeper. Then her tongue darted out and stroked lightly, teasingly over his lips, and the dam broke. His hands clutched convulsively at her arms, her body, stroking down her back, grasping her hips, wandering everywhere he could reach, while his mouth devoured her hungrily.
Buffy crushed against him just as desperately, her hot tongue sweeping the inside of his cool mouth, one hand bunching up his shirt in a firm grip, the other cradling the nape of his neck and pulling him into an even deeper contact. Spike growled and pushed against her where she straddled his lap. She ground into him with her pelvis, and pulled her panting mouth away only to trail kisses down his jaw and neck. She lapped across his collarbone and he squirmed beneath her.
"Oh, Buffy," he moaned, and at the sound the enchanted moment was broken. She sat up and stared at him, then down at her hands half pushed up under his shirt, caressing his stomach. She pulled them back as though burned.
"Oh my god. What am I doing?" she murmured, then slid off his lap and bolted down the stairs of the tower.
To be continued....