"Golden Bands to Bind Them", part 5
by BonnieD
AU from "Something Blue" through "Hush". Buffy/Spike have wed and to their chagrin, have matching immovable wedding bands. Buffy has discovered Riley's secret identity, and Spike has discovered his ability to fight demons and his new home, the crypt. Also, they shared a post-spell kiss (Buffy and Spike that is, not Spike and Riley.)
Whew! What a relief to be back on dialogue. It was very difficult to do the last installment. Action is the worst to write. Thanks again to all who leave reviews, it gives me the confidence to keep on going.
*********
Spike sat stunned and shaken by his encounter with Buffy, long after she'd run away. He listened to the wind whistle through the cracks in the walls of the tower room, a high keening wail that matched his mood, and felt the building sway slightly. He considered that the rest of the floor might give way and he'd better get his ass moving before it did since there was no one to pull HIM back from a long fall. But still he sat there, trying to wade through the morass of emotions that roiled through him.
If his feelings were a pie chart, lust would be the biggest wedge. His body was still sparking with electrical flashes from Buffy's kisses. Not to mention the tremendous hard-on that refused to die. Anger was another big slice. He was furious at finding himself so out of control and wanted to punish someone or something for it. Fear was right behind the anger, whispering that this whole thing was not going to end well for him. Confusion, desperation, and, strangely enough, joy, all warred within him. He was thrilled that Buffy seemed to want him as much as he wanted her, and he despised himself for being thrilled, and he despised her for making him feel this way.
He wanted to go after her, throw her down and claim her as his woman. He wanted to run away from Sunnydale and never face her again. He wanted to bite her hard and deep, suck up that exquisite Slayer blood as she begged for her life. He wanted to worship at her feet, protect her and serve her and kill any other male who so much as looked at her. And he wanted to know everything about her, to curl up in bed with her and listen to anything and everything she wanted to share with him.
Spike actually whimpered his confusion. Then he shook his head and tried to snap out of his fugue. He jumped to his feet - carefully - and made his way down the stairs from the tower, muttering to himself, "Just a girl. Any girl would do. It's not like it means anything." Maybe he'd find Harmony again. Work this sexual tension out. His thumb scraped over the ring, which was tightened around his finger like a noose. "Just this ring doing it. It means nothing. Nothing! Get the ring off and I'll be right as rain."
********* Buffy hit the bottom of the stairs and kept on running, out of the building, down the street, through the sleeping town, and toward the safety of her own bed, as if all the monsters in Sunnydale were chasing her. She knew she should go back, recapture Spike, find out if it was more than monsters he could attack. But she couldn't have faced him again if her life depended on it.
"Oh god!" As she ran, one hand lifted unconsciously to her lips. She had kissed Spike! SHE had kissed HIM first! And she'd LIKED it!!! No Willow spell. No excuses. Just pure Buffy lust, mixed with some other even scarier emotions which she was NOT going to explore.
"And don't forget," another piece of information surfaced in her brain and waved its hands around to get her attention. "Riley's one of the commando guys! Iowa boy's been keeping secrets from you. So that's two big things, right? You kissed Spike and Riley's a big liar! Wow, Buffy, you know how to pick'em!"
"Shut up," Buffy snapped at her brain and kept on running.
"So what are you going to do, huh?" her mind persisted. "Punch Riley in the face, and stake Spike? That'd take care of 'em!"
"It's the ring. It must be the ring," Buffy muttered, clutching at a stitch in her side as she ran. "It's the only explanation. He just saved me to protect himself, and we're only attracted to each other because of the stupid bonding thingy. We have GOT to find a way to get these rings off!"
"What about Riley, though? What about that? Whatya gonna do, Buffy, huh? What?" her brain clamored.
"Shut up. Shut up! SHUT UP!" Buffy mentally screamed, then channeled Scarlett O'Hara. "I'm not going to think about that right now. I'll think about that tomorrow."
***********
The phone ringing woke Buffy from the deep sleep she had finally achieved after several restless pre-dawn hours of tossing, turning and thinking, thinking, thinking. When she had returned to her dorm from the clock tower the night before, she had told Willow and Xander everything that happened with the Gentlemen, minus the kissing Spike finale. Then she had called Giles and repeated the story, also skipping over her encounter with Riley and the commandos in the cemetery. Of course, everyone wanted to know why she had let Spike go and if he could attack humans again and how she planned to find him again. She had lied and said he slipped away too fast, glossing over the part where he saved her from falling.
Xander left and Willow chattered at Buffy for awhile just because she could. Buffy had almost been tempted to share her troubles with her friend. Nothing like a little late night girltalk to relieve your burden. But she decided she'd better discuss it with Riley first and find out the whole scoop on the commandos. And about the Spike thing?.....well, it was just too embarrassing to share, even with Willow. Finally Willow had turned off her verbal faucet and allowed Buffy some blessed silence in which to; A. toss, B. turn, and C. think, think, think.
Buffy jerked awake by the loud ringing, snatched up the phone and croaked, "Hello?"
"Hi!" came the familiar, warm voice from the other end of the line. "It's Riley. Um. About last night. We need to talk."
"Yes, we do," she replied, coolly.
"Could we meet? In an hour? In the quad? By the fountain?"
"Want me to synchronize my watch?" Buffy asked dryly. "And is there a secret code word I should know?"
Riley paused.
"Military joke," Buffy explained, and as the pause continued, "Never mind. Sure. That'd be fine. I'll see you there." She hung up, noted that Willow had already left for class, noted that she had missed hers again, got up to take a much needed shower, and didn't think about Spike.
She didn't think about Spike all through the shower and her morning yogurt. She didn't think about him while she chose her perfectly coordinated outfit and accessories for the day and applied her makeup. And she didn't think about him as she walked across campus to where Riley was pacing nervously in front of the fountain.
She did think of him when Riley started to explain to her about the Initiative, but in a clinical way, so that was okay.
"So your.....organization.....rounds up demons instead of killing them and uses them for lab rats?"
"I guess....yeah....that pretty much covers it."
"I see. And you were going to tell met this, when?" Buffy raised an eyebrow.
"Well......never. It's a covert operation," Riley stumbled over his words. "That's the whole point, secrecy,.....and wait a minute, why am I the only one answering questions here? What were YOU doing in the cemetery fighting vampires? How can you hit like that?! You're so little, and......" He paused and lowered his voice. "Are you, like, genetically engineered or something? Is there another unit that's even deeper undercover than......"
Buffy held up a hand. "Don't hurt yourself. It's not that complicated. I'm.....the Slayer."
After repeating this several times, and explaining what it meant twice, Buffy thought she was going to have to break out some Giles-style graphic diagrams in order for Riley to understand. Then suddenly a light went on and a brilliant smile stretched across his broad face.
"A superhero!" he exclaimed. "You're like Spiderman....er...woman. Created to save the world from evil. I get it!"
Buffy couldn't help but return a smile at his obvious delight. Besides, it was the first time she'd ever thought of herself as a superhero. Usually 'mutant freak' were the words that came to mind.
"Well.....I guess. Something like that," she admitted.
"Wow!" Riley was nodding in satisfaction. "I should've thought of it before. If demons really exist then it stands to reason there would be forces of good to match them."
"Uh, just one really." Buffy blushed. "That'd be me. "The" Chosen One."
Riley shook his head. "Wow," he said again. "This is a lot to process.....for both of us."
She nodded agreement. "I really can't wrap my mind around the idea that the government is not only aware of demons, but actually has secret science labs in Sunnydale. How could I not have known this?"
"We're a relatively new branch of special ops. Finally got our funding approved," he explained.
"And how could you construct something so massive right under a college campus without people noticing?"
Riley opened and closed his mouth, then shrugged, not quite understanding the logistics of that himself.
"AND....," Buffy tapped her finger on his chest, "....does this mean that the Roswell and Area 51 thing is more than a myth? First it's vampires and demons, then aliens, what'll it be next, angels among us?"
"Already are. That's you," he answered, fingering a strand of her hair. He paused, choosing just the right words, "Buffy, I think..... I think it doesn't have to be a problem. We didn't exactly start out on the best foot for a relationship.....keeping secrets and all, but we didn't exactly lie to each other either. And now that it's all out in the open, the possibilities are.......This could be really good between us! We have more in common than I ever dreamed. We're perfect for each other!"
Buffy backed away a few steps. "Whoa. Like you said, this is a lot to process. I'm....I need to think.....I mean, I like you, Riley. I really do. At least I liked who you said you were, but that's when I thought you were a normal guy."
"I am a normal guy!" he interrupted.
"I'm sure you are," Buffy's voice rose a little in frustration. "But you're not the kind of normal guy I thought you were. And really, really normal - plain as vanilla ice cream - was what I was looking for. I have enough bizarreness in my life already...."
"I'm vanilla ice cream!" Riley insisted. "Everything I told you is the truth. Born and raised in Iowa; parents, Martha and John; three brothers; a Golden Retriever named Barney - all of it. And I really am Maggie Walsh's teaching assistant. It's just that she's also my superior. Look, Buffy, all this army stuff doesn't make me less of an average Joe, it makes me...."
"G.I. Joe," she completed. "I do get it, Riley. But I still need time to consider everything."
Riley stopped arguing and nodded. "All right. You're right. We don't have to make a commitment this minute." He took her hand and looked deep into her eyes, as sincere and sweet as only Riley Finn could be. "But, Buffy, please think about what I've said. We really do seem destined for one another." He smiled at her again and gave her hand a little squeeze. "See you in class tomorrow?"
"Of course." He released her and she turned to leave, then paused, "Uh, Riley?"
"Yes?"
"You know your secret's safe with me. I won't tell Willow or....anyone. Can I count on you to do the same for me? Will you tell Professor Walsh....?"
"Not if she doesn't ask, and she won't. I won't exactly be breaking orders by not sharing intelligence about "The" Slayer, and I'm sure you'll be ready to tell her yourself....soon. So it will only be temporarily shelving information. You can count on me, Buffy."
She smiled and nodded, then hurried off across campus to see if she could make it to her second class of the day. And as she dozed off in the classroom, she didn't think about Spike. Not once.
***********
When Spike finally made it down from the tower, Buffy was long gone, which was good - very good. There were still a few good hours of night left, so he decided to continue on his way to the junkyard to see what salvageables he could secure for his crypt.
A couple of hours later, arms overflowing with scavenged loot, he banged open the door of the mausoleum with a hard kick. He dumped the lot on the floor in the center of the room. Decided he'd sort it out later, and that it was time for a nip of the blood he'd rescued from the Watcher's refrigerator. He vamped out, bit in, and sucked it right out of the bag. Ugh! Nasty stuff, pig's blood! But at least it was room temperature from being in his pocket all night. Nothing was worse than ice cold from the fridge. Enough to give you a headache and turn your stomach, both.
Spike swept cobwebs and dust from the top of the bier with the arm of his coat and stretched out to sleep. He lay there, making plans for home improvement and NOT thinking about Buffy as he drifted off. The morning waxed. The sun rose higher. It crept through the grimy windows of the crypt and across the floor, casting a dim glow of light over the sarcophagus. It wasn't enough to burn a vamp, but it made Spike frown and roll over in his sleep and begin to dream.....
Buffy was lying on the beach in a white bikini. She was stretched out, face up, on a blanket, with the ocean's waves just lapping at her toes. Her hair was fanned around her face, sun-streaked as a lion's mane, and the white crocheted material of the bathing suit contrasted with her golden tanned skin. Her body was phenomenal and Spike felt short of breath just from watching her lay there sunning herself.
He was under a boardwalk or something, peering out at her like a lecherous old man. The sunlight was so close he felt himself steaming. He tried to draw further back in the shadows, but there was nowhere darker to go. Then Buffy woke up, rolled over on one elbow, looked at him, beckoned him to come join her. She held up a bottle of tanning lotion. Spike, already imagining his hands slicking over her bare skin, groaned in frustration. He took a step toward the light and the tip of his boot began to sizzle.
"I can't, love. I'm stuck here," he called out.
She just smiled and waggled the bottle of lotion at him; struck a pose like a 1950's pinup girl on the blanket; leaning back on one hand, chest thrust out, hard, smooth stomach inviting his touch. He inched his foot into the sun. The boot burst into flames. Spike pulled it back into shadow quickly and doused the flames in the sand.
"I CAN'T!" he practically wailed. "Please, Buffy, come here. Come into the dark with me."
She pouted her bottom lip provocatively. He licked his own parched lips and gazed at her hungrily. Then suddenly, she abandoned the teasing attitude and her hazel eyes welled with tears. Finally she spoke, "Why won't you trust me, Spike? It's beautiful here. It couldn't possibly hurt you. Just take little steps and you can make it."
"All right then." Spike closed his eyes, tensed his shoulders, took a deep breath, cursed a blue streak, and hurtled out into the sun, across the sand. He ran full tilt toward her. Should've been there by now. His eyes opened and Buffy was even further away - almost a quarter mile across the burning sand.
And then he was on fire. He could feel it eating him away from the inside out, turning him to ash as he ran.
"Can't do it, Buffy! I'm not ready! Can't......" his cries rose to a scream as he evaporated into nothing and.....
Woke with a strangled sob. He was shaking. Would've been gasping and sweating if he were human. For a moment he forgot where he was, had to look around the sun-warmed stillness of the crypt to place himself. Oh right, new digs. He watched the dust motes floating in the pale beams coming through the grimy windowpanes.
Already the urgency and details of the dream were fading. Something about the Slayer in a bikini. Where was the nightmare in that? Spike sat up, jumped off the stone surface, found his coat and rummaged in the pocket for a cigarette. He popped one in his mouth, flicked open his lighter, and was momentarily transfixed by the little flame. There had been fire in his dream, too.
He stood there until the lighter grew almost too hot to hold, then shook himself out of his reverie, lit up and drew a long, soothing lungful of smoke. No matter. It was just a dream. Perhaps he'd better take his daily rest in the nice, dark lower level of the crypt. Safer, anyway.
********* Anya's current favorite human television program was "Murder She Wrote." In it, a very clever and quite liberated elderly woman went around solving mysteries that no one else could figure out. She succeeded while the male dominated law force fumbled around uselessly. Anya appreciated that.
Today, with her voice firmly in place, Anya was on a mission. She had already laid the groundwork in her investigation the very afternoon Buffy and Spike had returned from their quite amusing honeymoon in Vegas. While the others, namely Willow, were wasting their time looking up information on H'rassee demons or going on picnics, Anya had gone straight to the source.
Xander had kissed her goodbye before going to his low-paying, service job, and Anya had headed for Clem's pawn shop to find out how the wedding rings had come into his possession. Anyone who watched or read mysteries knew that was the proper way to go about solving a problem. Begin at the end and work your way back to the beginning.
Anya was a little disappointed when the floppy-eared Clem didn't require any trickery or persuasion to reveal that an H'rassee artisan, who had needed quick cash, sold him the pair of rings. The bands sat gathering dust for over a year, because, really, who wanted to be THAT closely joined to their significant other. When Spike had come to his shop late at night looking for a cheap but tasteful pair of rings, Clem had jumped at the opportunity to unload the things.
Clem provided Anya with a description of the jewelry-maker and said that he'd still seen the guy around town occasionally. He was evidently hiding out in this dimension from whatever he had been escaping in his world.
The resourceful sleuth had then summoned her old friend, Halfrek and asked for her aid in locating the H'rassee and, if necessary, roughing him up a little. The voice-stealing Gentlemen had caused a temporary delay in Anya's plan, but today, with her voice restored, Anya was armed and ready to find this H'rassee and take him down. She would force him to reverse his crazy ring spell and, in the process, prove to the others what a viable and valuable part of the group she could be. It was no good being Xander's girlfriend, but ignored by his close friends. She would MAKE them like her.
"Honestly, dear, I don't see why you care," Hallie was saying, as the two walked the hall of a boarded up apartment building. "I mean, it's a stretch but I can almost understand your attraction to the human male you've chosen. After all, that's a biological imperative, and you can't help it if you're a slave to the needs of your human body. Poor thing. But, trying to please his friends? I just don't get it!"
"Neither do I," Anya sighed. "My logical mind knows I shouldn't care what a pack of humans think, but I get an itchy, uncomfortable feeling when they talk all around me as if I wasn't there. I feel compelled to get them to notice me. It's very unsettling."
She knocked on a door. They heard scrabbling and bumping noises from within, then footsteps heading for the back of the apartment. Anya tried the door. It was locked. Hallie teleported them inside just in time to see a greenish, scaly, but definitely humanoid demon heading for the window that led onto the fire escape. Hallie pointed a finger and the window closed with a decisive 'bang'. The H'rassee spun around and raised his hands in surrender.
"Don't kill me!" he begged. "I'll get the jewel! I'm working on it. Just give me a little more time. I'll find it."
"We're not here for that, buster," Anya stalked up to the trembling creature and gave him a push that sent him sprawling on the floor. "You're a H'rassee jeweler, right?"
He nodded, gulping.
"Well, you're in big trouble! You've got the Slayer on your tail."
"The Slayer?! What'd I....? How could......?"
"Your wedding bands. She's got one stuck on her hand, so you better spill right now. Tell me how they work and how to get them off, or else." Anya kicked him in the side, then looked over her shoulder at Hallie and gave her a big smile. She was enjoying the role of tough cop.
"I.... They don't COME off. That's the point. My people believe in a lifetime commitment to their lover. The rings are the outward symbol of that. The can't be removed."
"But the wearers aren't psychically connected?" Hallie asked.
The artisan shook his head.
"Then what happens if one of the life partners dies?"
"The bond is broken and the rings dissolve," he answered.
"Hm. Your dimension must have a very high murder rate," the vengeance demon commented.
"Not at all." The H'rassee rose and assumed a somewhat defensive tone. "We truly believe in love. When we make a commitment we never give up on the relationship."
"So where's YOUR wedding ring," Anya commented.
"I haven't been lucky enough to find my soul-mate yet," he said sadly.
Anya lost interest and turned her back on him. "Do you know what this means, Hallie? All I have to do is tell the others. Buffy can stake Spike, and it will all be over! Then they'll appreciate me and tell me what a great job I did and the girls will invite me to the next makeover party they have."
"One little problem, sweetie," Halfrek pointed out. "From what you say, the Slayer seems hesitant to damage creatures who can't defend themselves. Killing the vampire may not be an option." She pointed at the H'rassee, who had been sidling toward the open door as they spoke. "I think a better plan would be for this nice craftsman to FIND A WAY to reverse whatever incantation he's put on his work." She bestowed a brilliant smile on him and his shoulders slumped in defeat.
"There might be a counter-spell....." he admitted.
"Then get to work!" Anya commanded, giving him another shove just because she could. "I wanna see some results and fast or you'll be swimming with the fishes." Gangster movies were Anya's second favorite thing to watch on television.
***********
"Another night, another patrol," Buffy thought. "Even the most action- packed job can sure get boring after you repeat it enough times."
She strolled along in that meandering way that lulled attacking vampires into thinking she was a safe victim. But though she appeared unfocussed, her attention was always on and tuned toward everything that moved around her. Right now, for example, she could hear on the other side of that low stone wall, the sound of someone moving, carrying something very heavy, probably a dead or injured body.
Buffy ran, launched herself over the wall and landed on the perpetrator of the noise.
"Hey! Bloody hell!!" The body beneath her felt way too familiar and Buffy scrambled off as fast as she could. She looked from the sprawled vampire to the.....armchair?!....she had made him drop, and back again.
"Spike!" She managed to spit out the name with all the venom and scorn it deserved. "What are you up to now? Stealing furniture from......Angel's mansion!!!! That's Angel's armchair!"
"He's not using it. All the good stuff's already been nicked, anyway." Spike turned his back on her and started to hoist up the worn chair with the stuffing trailing out of it. "I'm sure granddad wouldn't mind."
"You can't....."
"Gotta furnish my new home, haven't I?" He heaved the chair onto his back and staggered off. Buffy followed.
"YOU have a home?"
"Nice little crypt sweet crypt. Of course, I probably shouldn't show you where it's at, you being the enemy and all, but.....wanna see it?"
Buffy didn't deign to answer, just sighed and continued to trudge after him.
**********
When he pushed open the creaking crypt door and stepped back for her to enter, Buffy's Slayer instincts kicked in and she thought, 'This is a trap', but she entered anyway - all senses on high alert. She glanced around the gloomy room and had to smile at Spike's pathetic attempts to spruce it up. He'd torn down most of the cobwebs, but many still fluttered in the draft from the open door. Odds and ends of furniture, rugs, and dishes, all stained, ragged and chipped were set around here and there. A cracked jug of.......flowers! placed on a woven scarf graced the top of the stone sarcophagus in the center of the room. The flickering light that illuminated the place came from an elaborate candelabra, which Buffy also recognized as Angel's, set just under the window where the panes caught the light and reflected it back.
Spike nudged her out of the way as he came through the door and unceremoniously dropped the armchair on the floor with a thump and a grunt.
"Thanks for helping, Slayer. Wouldn't want you to waste your strength on furniture moving when there's evil afoot that needs fighting."
"So this is what's fashionable in netherworld decor." Buffy put her hands on her hips and turned in a slow, exaggerated circle surveying the room. "Very......" She was working on the perfect cutting description, when she caught sight of Spike's almost anxious face watching her. "Uh....nice. Very nice," she concluded lamely, wondering just when she had crossed the line from killing vamps to complimenting them.
Her answer seemed to satisfy him. He shrugged. "It's cozy." Then he started to wrestle the unwieldy armchair to the perfect spot in the room. Buffy found herself grabbing the other side and helping.
When they had moved it to three different positions and Spike was still eyeing the chair critically with his head tilted to the side, Buffy stepped back and crossed her arms.
"Listen. About last night...."
He darted a look at her then waved a hand in the air dismissively. "Forget it."
"Spike, I can't just forget it. I need to know...."
"It was the rings. Just the stupid sodding rings. I know that."
"Huh? No! Not the.....not the kissing thing! I'm talking about you being able to fight again. I need to know that you can't hurt people."
"Well of course I can't bloody hurt people or I wouldn't be standing here talking to you now would I?" Spike glared at her. "I'd be ripping your heart out and serving it on my nice new place setting?"
"Good." Buffy seemed relieved. "Just so we're clear. I don't want to have to stake you, but I'd do it." Then a little frown creased her brow. "How do I know you can't? Am I supposed to take your word?"
A slow, evil grin spread over the vampire's face. His eyes lit with glee. "No. I suppose you can't. Wanna have a go? See what happens?" His relaxed stance tightened and suddenly he was balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to dance out of her way when she struck a blow. His hands were half up, ready to defend, and his eyes were eager.
Buffy couldn't resist. She assumed a similar stance, then darted forward and flicked a fist at his face. He dropped his head at the last moment and she missed. Spike spun around to her left side and came up grinning from ear to ear. "Go ahead. Try again!" he taunted.
She kicked her leg up and he caught it in both hands and tossed her backward. She crashed into the sarcophagus and the pottery went flying, scattering flowers as it went. Looking up sharply, Buffy could see the vampire wasn't clutching his head. In fact, he seemed happier than ever.
"Ooh, Slayer, you're off your game."
She pushed off from the bier and charged low, straight into his stomach, taking them both down to the floor. For the second time that evening he lay prostrate under her. Buffy pulled herself up, straddling him, and aimed a punch to his stupid, laughing face. This time his reflexes were slower and she landed a good one, right on his jaw. His head snapped to the side and a trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth where her ring had cut him.
She tried again with a right cross, but he blocked with his forearm. Then, coiling like a snake, he arched up with his lower body, throwing her off and to the side and twisting until he was straddling her, pinning her arms to the ground on either side of her head. He loomed over her, eyes glittering with malice and lust. Yes, Buffy was pretty sure it was lust since she could feel his hardness pressing right against her pubic bone. She was breathing hard now. He was hardly breathing.
His face lowered closer....closer to hers, until they were mere inches apart. "So what do you think, Slayer?" he whispered. "Can I hurt people?"
She opened her mouth to answer, but all her snappy comebacks failed her. Then she noticed, that his hands, holding her arms, weren't digging in and causing pain. Instead his thumbs were slowly caressing the soft skin of her inside wrists, making little circles that were sending bolts of sensation straight to her crotch. It tickled and tingled, and Buffy wiggled a little under him.
Spike descended the last few inches to her mouth. "It's not us. 's the rings," he muttered the mantra against her lips, then he was kissing her.
To be continued.....
AU from "Something Blue" through "Hush". Buffy/Spike have wed and to their chagrin, have matching immovable wedding bands. Buffy has discovered Riley's secret identity, and Spike has discovered his ability to fight demons and his new home, the crypt. Also, they shared a post-spell kiss (Buffy and Spike that is, not Spike and Riley.)
Whew! What a relief to be back on dialogue. It was very difficult to do the last installment. Action is the worst to write. Thanks again to all who leave reviews, it gives me the confidence to keep on going.
*********
Spike sat stunned and shaken by his encounter with Buffy, long after she'd run away. He listened to the wind whistle through the cracks in the walls of the tower room, a high keening wail that matched his mood, and felt the building sway slightly. He considered that the rest of the floor might give way and he'd better get his ass moving before it did since there was no one to pull HIM back from a long fall. But still he sat there, trying to wade through the morass of emotions that roiled through him.
If his feelings were a pie chart, lust would be the biggest wedge. His body was still sparking with electrical flashes from Buffy's kisses. Not to mention the tremendous hard-on that refused to die. Anger was another big slice. He was furious at finding himself so out of control and wanted to punish someone or something for it. Fear was right behind the anger, whispering that this whole thing was not going to end well for him. Confusion, desperation, and, strangely enough, joy, all warred within him. He was thrilled that Buffy seemed to want him as much as he wanted her, and he despised himself for being thrilled, and he despised her for making him feel this way.
He wanted to go after her, throw her down and claim her as his woman. He wanted to run away from Sunnydale and never face her again. He wanted to bite her hard and deep, suck up that exquisite Slayer blood as she begged for her life. He wanted to worship at her feet, protect her and serve her and kill any other male who so much as looked at her. And he wanted to know everything about her, to curl up in bed with her and listen to anything and everything she wanted to share with him.
Spike actually whimpered his confusion. Then he shook his head and tried to snap out of his fugue. He jumped to his feet - carefully - and made his way down the stairs from the tower, muttering to himself, "Just a girl. Any girl would do. It's not like it means anything." Maybe he'd find Harmony again. Work this sexual tension out. His thumb scraped over the ring, which was tightened around his finger like a noose. "Just this ring doing it. It means nothing. Nothing! Get the ring off and I'll be right as rain."
********* Buffy hit the bottom of the stairs and kept on running, out of the building, down the street, through the sleeping town, and toward the safety of her own bed, as if all the monsters in Sunnydale were chasing her. She knew she should go back, recapture Spike, find out if it was more than monsters he could attack. But she couldn't have faced him again if her life depended on it.
"Oh god!" As she ran, one hand lifted unconsciously to her lips. She had kissed Spike! SHE had kissed HIM first! And she'd LIKED it!!! No Willow spell. No excuses. Just pure Buffy lust, mixed with some other even scarier emotions which she was NOT going to explore.
"And don't forget," another piece of information surfaced in her brain and waved its hands around to get her attention. "Riley's one of the commando guys! Iowa boy's been keeping secrets from you. So that's two big things, right? You kissed Spike and Riley's a big liar! Wow, Buffy, you know how to pick'em!"
"Shut up," Buffy snapped at her brain and kept on running.
"So what are you going to do, huh?" her mind persisted. "Punch Riley in the face, and stake Spike? That'd take care of 'em!"
"It's the ring. It must be the ring," Buffy muttered, clutching at a stitch in her side as she ran. "It's the only explanation. He just saved me to protect himself, and we're only attracted to each other because of the stupid bonding thingy. We have GOT to find a way to get these rings off!"
"What about Riley, though? What about that? Whatya gonna do, Buffy, huh? What?" her brain clamored.
"Shut up. Shut up! SHUT UP!" Buffy mentally screamed, then channeled Scarlett O'Hara. "I'm not going to think about that right now. I'll think about that tomorrow."
***********
The phone ringing woke Buffy from the deep sleep she had finally achieved after several restless pre-dawn hours of tossing, turning and thinking, thinking, thinking. When she had returned to her dorm from the clock tower the night before, she had told Willow and Xander everything that happened with the Gentlemen, minus the kissing Spike finale. Then she had called Giles and repeated the story, also skipping over her encounter with Riley and the commandos in the cemetery. Of course, everyone wanted to know why she had let Spike go and if he could attack humans again and how she planned to find him again. She had lied and said he slipped away too fast, glossing over the part where he saved her from falling.
Xander left and Willow chattered at Buffy for awhile just because she could. Buffy had almost been tempted to share her troubles with her friend. Nothing like a little late night girltalk to relieve your burden. But she decided she'd better discuss it with Riley first and find out the whole scoop on the commandos. And about the Spike thing?.....well, it was just too embarrassing to share, even with Willow. Finally Willow had turned off her verbal faucet and allowed Buffy some blessed silence in which to; A. toss, B. turn, and C. think, think, think.
Buffy jerked awake by the loud ringing, snatched up the phone and croaked, "Hello?"
"Hi!" came the familiar, warm voice from the other end of the line. "It's Riley. Um. About last night. We need to talk."
"Yes, we do," she replied, coolly.
"Could we meet? In an hour? In the quad? By the fountain?"
"Want me to synchronize my watch?" Buffy asked dryly. "And is there a secret code word I should know?"
Riley paused.
"Military joke," Buffy explained, and as the pause continued, "Never mind. Sure. That'd be fine. I'll see you there." She hung up, noted that Willow had already left for class, noted that she had missed hers again, got up to take a much needed shower, and didn't think about Spike.
She didn't think about Spike all through the shower and her morning yogurt. She didn't think about him while she chose her perfectly coordinated outfit and accessories for the day and applied her makeup. And she didn't think about him as she walked across campus to where Riley was pacing nervously in front of the fountain.
She did think of him when Riley started to explain to her about the Initiative, but in a clinical way, so that was okay.
"So your.....organization.....rounds up demons instead of killing them and uses them for lab rats?"
"I guess....yeah....that pretty much covers it."
"I see. And you were going to tell met this, when?" Buffy raised an eyebrow.
"Well......never. It's a covert operation," Riley stumbled over his words. "That's the whole point, secrecy,.....and wait a minute, why am I the only one answering questions here? What were YOU doing in the cemetery fighting vampires? How can you hit like that?! You're so little, and......" He paused and lowered his voice. "Are you, like, genetically engineered or something? Is there another unit that's even deeper undercover than......"
Buffy held up a hand. "Don't hurt yourself. It's not that complicated. I'm.....the Slayer."
After repeating this several times, and explaining what it meant twice, Buffy thought she was going to have to break out some Giles-style graphic diagrams in order for Riley to understand. Then suddenly a light went on and a brilliant smile stretched across his broad face.
"A superhero!" he exclaimed. "You're like Spiderman....er...woman. Created to save the world from evil. I get it!"
Buffy couldn't help but return a smile at his obvious delight. Besides, it was the first time she'd ever thought of herself as a superhero. Usually 'mutant freak' were the words that came to mind.
"Well.....I guess. Something like that," she admitted.
"Wow!" Riley was nodding in satisfaction. "I should've thought of it before. If demons really exist then it stands to reason there would be forces of good to match them."
"Uh, just one really." Buffy blushed. "That'd be me. "The" Chosen One."
Riley shook his head. "Wow," he said again. "This is a lot to process.....for both of us."
She nodded agreement. "I really can't wrap my mind around the idea that the government is not only aware of demons, but actually has secret science labs in Sunnydale. How could I not have known this?"
"We're a relatively new branch of special ops. Finally got our funding approved," he explained.
"And how could you construct something so massive right under a college campus without people noticing?"
Riley opened and closed his mouth, then shrugged, not quite understanding the logistics of that himself.
"AND....," Buffy tapped her finger on his chest, "....does this mean that the Roswell and Area 51 thing is more than a myth? First it's vampires and demons, then aliens, what'll it be next, angels among us?"
"Already are. That's you," he answered, fingering a strand of her hair. He paused, choosing just the right words, "Buffy, I think..... I think it doesn't have to be a problem. We didn't exactly start out on the best foot for a relationship.....keeping secrets and all, but we didn't exactly lie to each other either. And now that it's all out in the open, the possibilities are.......This could be really good between us! We have more in common than I ever dreamed. We're perfect for each other!"
Buffy backed away a few steps. "Whoa. Like you said, this is a lot to process. I'm....I need to think.....I mean, I like you, Riley. I really do. At least I liked who you said you were, but that's when I thought you were a normal guy."
"I am a normal guy!" he interrupted.
"I'm sure you are," Buffy's voice rose a little in frustration. "But you're not the kind of normal guy I thought you were. And really, really normal - plain as vanilla ice cream - was what I was looking for. I have enough bizarreness in my life already...."
"I'm vanilla ice cream!" Riley insisted. "Everything I told you is the truth. Born and raised in Iowa; parents, Martha and John; three brothers; a Golden Retriever named Barney - all of it. And I really am Maggie Walsh's teaching assistant. It's just that she's also my superior. Look, Buffy, all this army stuff doesn't make me less of an average Joe, it makes me...."
"G.I. Joe," she completed. "I do get it, Riley. But I still need time to consider everything."
Riley stopped arguing and nodded. "All right. You're right. We don't have to make a commitment this minute." He took her hand and looked deep into her eyes, as sincere and sweet as only Riley Finn could be. "But, Buffy, please think about what I've said. We really do seem destined for one another." He smiled at her again and gave her hand a little squeeze. "See you in class tomorrow?"
"Of course." He released her and she turned to leave, then paused, "Uh, Riley?"
"Yes?"
"You know your secret's safe with me. I won't tell Willow or....anyone. Can I count on you to do the same for me? Will you tell Professor Walsh....?"
"Not if she doesn't ask, and she won't. I won't exactly be breaking orders by not sharing intelligence about "The" Slayer, and I'm sure you'll be ready to tell her yourself....soon. So it will only be temporarily shelving information. You can count on me, Buffy."
She smiled and nodded, then hurried off across campus to see if she could make it to her second class of the day. And as she dozed off in the classroom, she didn't think about Spike. Not once.
***********
When Spike finally made it down from the tower, Buffy was long gone, which was good - very good. There were still a few good hours of night left, so he decided to continue on his way to the junkyard to see what salvageables he could secure for his crypt.
A couple of hours later, arms overflowing with scavenged loot, he banged open the door of the mausoleum with a hard kick. He dumped the lot on the floor in the center of the room. Decided he'd sort it out later, and that it was time for a nip of the blood he'd rescued from the Watcher's refrigerator. He vamped out, bit in, and sucked it right out of the bag. Ugh! Nasty stuff, pig's blood! But at least it was room temperature from being in his pocket all night. Nothing was worse than ice cold from the fridge. Enough to give you a headache and turn your stomach, both.
Spike swept cobwebs and dust from the top of the bier with the arm of his coat and stretched out to sleep. He lay there, making plans for home improvement and NOT thinking about Buffy as he drifted off. The morning waxed. The sun rose higher. It crept through the grimy windows of the crypt and across the floor, casting a dim glow of light over the sarcophagus. It wasn't enough to burn a vamp, but it made Spike frown and roll over in his sleep and begin to dream.....
Buffy was lying on the beach in a white bikini. She was stretched out, face up, on a blanket, with the ocean's waves just lapping at her toes. Her hair was fanned around her face, sun-streaked as a lion's mane, and the white crocheted material of the bathing suit contrasted with her golden tanned skin. Her body was phenomenal and Spike felt short of breath just from watching her lay there sunning herself.
He was under a boardwalk or something, peering out at her like a lecherous old man. The sunlight was so close he felt himself steaming. He tried to draw further back in the shadows, but there was nowhere darker to go. Then Buffy woke up, rolled over on one elbow, looked at him, beckoned him to come join her. She held up a bottle of tanning lotion. Spike, already imagining his hands slicking over her bare skin, groaned in frustration. He took a step toward the light and the tip of his boot began to sizzle.
"I can't, love. I'm stuck here," he called out.
She just smiled and waggled the bottle of lotion at him; struck a pose like a 1950's pinup girl on the blanket; leaning back on one hand, chest thrust out, hard, smooth stomach inviting his touch. He inched his foot into the sun. The boot burst into flames. Spike pulled it back into shadow quickly and doused the flames in the sand.
"I CAN'T!" he practically wailed. "Please, Buffy, come here. Come into the dark with me."
She pouted her bottom lip provocatively. He licked his own parched lips and gazed at her hungrily. Then suddenly, she abandoned the teasing attitude and her hazel eyes welled with tears. Finally she spoke, "Why won't you trust me, Spike? It's beautiful here. It couldn't possibly hurt you. Just take little steps and you can make it."
"All right then." Spike closed his eyes, tensed his shoulders, took a deep breath, cursed a blue streak, and hurtled out into the sun, across the sand. He ran full tilt toward her. Should've been there by now. His eyes opened and Buffy was even further away - almost a quarter mile across the burning sand.
And then he was on fire. He could feel it eating him away from the inside out, turning him to ash as he ran.
"Can't do it, Buffy! I'm not ready! Can't......" his cries rose to a scream as he evaporated into nothing and.....
Woke with a strangled sob. He was shaking. Would've been gasping and sweating if he were human. For a moment he forgot where he was, had to look around the sun-warmed stillness of the crypt to place himself. Oh right, new digs. He watched the dust motes floating in the pale beams coming through the grimy windowpanes.
Already the urgency and details of the dream were fading. Something about the Slayer in a bikini. Where was the nightmare in that? Spike sat up, jumped off the stone surface, found his coat and rummaged in the pocket for a cigarette. He popped one in his mouth, flicked open his lighter, and was momentarily transfixed by the little flame. There had been fire in his dream, too.
He stood there until the lighter grew almost too hot to hold, then shook himself out of his reverie, lit up and drew a long, soothing lungful of smoke. No matter. It was just a dream. Perhaps he'd better take his daily rest in the nice, dark lower level of the crypt. Safer, anyway.
********* Anya's current favorite human television program was "Murder She Wrote." In it, a very clever and quite liberated elderly woman went around solving mysteries that no one else could figure out. She succeeded while the male dominated law force fumbled around uselessly. Anya appreciated that.
Today, with her voice firmly in place, Anya was on a mission. She had already laid the groundwork in her investigation the very afternoon Buffy and Spike had returned from their quite amusing honeymoon in Vegas. While the others, namely Willow, were wasting their time looking up information on H'rassee demons or going on picnics, Anya had gone straight to the source.
Xander had kissed her goodbye before going to his low-paying, service job, and Anya had headed for Clem's pawn shop to find out how the wedding rings had come into his possession. Anyone who watched or read mysteries knew that was the proper way to go about solving a problem. Begin at the end and work your way back to the beginning.
Anya was a little disappointed when the floppy-eared Clem didn't require any trickery or persuasion to reveal that an H'rassee artisan, who had needed quick cash, sold him the pair of rings. The bands sat gathering dust for over a year, because, really, who wanted to be THAT closely joined to their significant other. When Spike had come to his shop late at night looking for a cheap but tasteful pair of rings, Clem had jumped at the opportunity to unload the things.
Clem provided Anya with a description of the jewelry-maker and said that he'd still seen the guy around town occasionally. He was evidently hiding out in this dimension from whatever he had been escaping in his world.
The resourceful sleuth had then summoned her old friend, Halfrek and asked for her aid in locating the H'rassee and, if necessary, roughing him up a little. The voice-stealing Gentlemen had caused a temporary delay in Anya's plan, but today, with her voice restored, Anya was armed and ready to find this H'rassee and take him down. She would force him to reverse his crazy ring spell and, in the process, prove to the others what a viable and valuable part of the group she could be. It was no good being Xander's girlfriend, but ignored by his close friends. She would MAKE them like her.
"Honestly, dear, I don't see why you care," Hallie was saying, as the two walked the hall of a boarded up apartment building. "I mean, it's a stretch but I can almost understand your attraction to the human male you've chosen. After all, that's a biological imperative, and you can't help it if you're a slave to the needs of your human body. Poor thing. But, trying to please his friends? I just don't get it!"
"Neither do I," Anya sighed. "My logical mind knows I shouldn't care what a pack of humans think, but I get an itchy, uncomfortable feeling when they talk all around me as if I wasn't there. I feel compelled to get them to notice me. It's very unsettling."
She knocked on a door. They heard scrabbling and bumping noises from within, then footsteps heading for the back of the apartment. Anya tried the door. It was locked. Hallie teleported them inside just in time to see a greenish, scaly, but definitely humanoid demon heading for the window that led onto the fire escape. Hallie pointed a finger and the window closed with a decisive 'bang'. The H'rassee spun around and raised his hands in surrender.
"Don't kill me!" he begged. "I'll get the jewel! I'm working on it. Just give me a little more time. I'll find it."
"We're not here for that, buster," Anya stalked up to the trembling creature and gave him a push that sent him sprawling on the floor. "You're a H'rassee jeweler, right?"
He nodded, gulping.
"Well, you're in big trouble! You've got the Slayer on your tail."
"The Slayer?! What'd I....? How could......?"
"Your wedding bands. She's got one stuck on her hand, so you better spill right now. Tell me how they work and how to get them off, or else." Anya kicked him in the side, then looked over her shoulder at Hallie and gave her a big smile. She was enjoying the role of tough cop.
"I.... They don't COME off. That's the point. My people believe in a lifetime commitment to their lover. The rings are the outward symbol of that. The can't be removed."
"But the wearers aren't psychically connected?" Hallie asked.
The artisan shook his head.
"Then what happens if one of the life partners dies?"
"The bond is broken and the rings dissolve," he answered.
"Hm. Your dimension must have a very high murder rate," the vengeance demon commented.
"Not at all." The H'rassee rose and assumed a somewhat defensive tone. "We truly believe in love. When we make a commitment we never give up on the relationship."
"So where's YOUR wedding ring," Anya commented.
"I haven't been lucky enough to find my soul-mate yet," he said sadly.
Anya lost interest and turned her back on him. "Do you know what this means, Hallie? All I have to do is tell the others. Buffy can stake Spike, and it will all be over! Then they'll appreciate me and tell me what a great job I did and the girls will invite me to the next makeover party they have."
"One little problem, sweetie," Halfrek pointed out. "From what you say, the Slayer seems hesitant to damage creatures who can't defend themselves. Killing the vampire may not be an option." She pointed at the H'rassee, who had been sidling toward the open door as they spoke. "I think a better plan would be for this nice craftsman to FIND A WAY to reverse whatever incantation he's put on his work." She bestowed a brilliant smile on him and his shoulders slumped in defeat.
"There might be a counter-spell....." he admitted.
"Then get to work!" Anya commanded, giving him another shove just because she could. "I wanna see some results and fast or you'll be swimming with the fishes." Gangster movies were Anya's second favorite thing to watch on television.
***********
"Another night, another patrol," Buffy thought. "Even the most action- packed job can sure get boring after you repeat it enough times."
She strolled along in that meandering way that lulled attacking vampires into thinking she was a safe victim. But though she appeared unfocussed, her attention was always on and tuned toward everything that moved around her. Right now, for example, she could hear on the other side of that low stone wall, the sound of someone moving, carrying something very heavy, probably a dead or injured body.
Buffy ran, launched herself over the wall and landed on the perpetrator of the noise.
"Hey! Bloody hell!!" The body beneath her felt way too familiar and Buffy scrambled off as fast as she could. She looked from the sprawled vampire to the.....armchair?!....she had made him drop, and back again.
"Spike!" She managed to spit out the name with all the venom and scorn it deserved. "What are you up to now? Stealing furniture from......Angel's mansion!!!! That's Angel's armchair!"
"He's not using it. All the good stuff's already been nicked, anyway." Spike turned his back on her and started to hoist up the worn chair with the stuffing trailing out of it. "I'm sure granddad wouldn't mind."
"You can't....."
"Gotta furnish my new home, haven't I?" He heaved the chair onto his back and staggered off. Buffy followed.
"YOU have a home?"
"Nice little crypt sweet crypt. Of course, I probably shouldn't show you where it's at, you being the enemy and all, but.....wanna see it?"
Buffy didn't deign to answer, just sighed and continued to trudge after him.
**********
When he pushed open the creaking crypt door and stepped back for her to enter, Buffy's Slayer instincts kicked in and she thought, 'This is a trap', but she entered anyway - all senses on high alert. She glanced around the gloomy room and had to smile at Spike's pathetic attempts to spruce it up. He'd torn down most of the cobwebs, but many still fluttered in the draft from the open door. Odds and ends of furniture, rugs, and dishes, all stained, ragged and chipped were set around here and there. A cracked jug of.......flowers! placed on a woven scarf graced the top of the stone sarcophagus in the center of the room. The flickering light that illuminated the place came from an elaborate candelabra, which Buffy also recognized as Angel's, set just under the window where the panes caught the light and reflected it back.
Spike nudged her out of the way as he came through the door and unceremoniously dropped the armchair on the floor with a thump and a grunt.
"Thanks for helping, Slayer. Wouldn't want you to waste your strength on furniture moving when there's evil afoot that needs fighting."
"So this is what's fashionable in netherworld decor." Buffy put her hands on her hips and turned in a slow, exaggerated circle surveying the room. "Very......" She was working on the perfect cutting description, when she caught sight of Spike's almost anxious face watching her. "Uh....nice. Very nice," she concluded lamely, wondering just when she had crossed the line from killing vamps to complimenting them.
Her answer seemed to satisfy him. He shrugged. "It's cozy." Then he started to wrestle the unwieldy armchair to the perfect spot in the room. Buffy found herself grabbing the other side and helping.
When they had moved it to three different positions and Spike was still eyeing the chair critically with his head tilted to the side, Buffy stepped back and crossed her arms.
"Listen. About last night...."
He darted a look at her then waved a hand in the air dismissively. "Forget it."
"Spike, I can't just forget it. I need to know...."
"It was the rings. Just the stupid sodding rings. I know that."
"Huh? No! Not the.....not the kissing thing! I'm talking about you being able to fight again. I need to know that you can't hurt people."
"Well of course I can't bloody hurt people or I wouldn't be standing here talking to you now would I?" Spike glared at her. "I'd be ripping your heart out and serving it on my nice new place setting?"
"Good." Buffy seemed relieved. "Just so we're clear. I don't want to have to stake you, but I'd do it." Then a little frown creased her brow. "How do I know you can't? Am I supposed to take your word?"
A slow, evil grin spread over the vampire's face. His eyes lit with glee. "No. I suppose you can't. Wanna have a go? See what happens?" His relaxed stance tightened and suddenly he was balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to dance out of her way when she struck a blow. His hands were half up, ready to defend, and his eyes were eager.
Buffy couldn't resist. She assumed a similar stance, then darted forward and flicked a fist at his face. He dropped his head at the last moment and she missed. Spike spun around to her left side and came up grinning from ear to ear. "Go ahead. Try again!" he taunted.
She kicked her leg up and he caught it in both hands and tossed her backward. She crashed into the sarcophagus and the pottery went flying, scattering flowers as it went. Looking up sharply, Buffy could see the vampire wasn't clutching his head. In fact, he seemed happier than ever.
"Ooh, Slayer, you're off your game."
She pushed off from the bier and charged low, straight into his stomach, taking them both down to the floor. For the second time that evening he lay prostrate under her. Buffy pulled herself up, straddling him, and aimed a punch to his stupid, laughing face. This time his reflexes were slower and she landed a good one, right on his jaw. His head snapped to the side and a trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth where her ring had cut him.
She tried again with a right cross, but he blocked with his forearm. Then, coiling like a snake, he arched up with his lower body, throwing her off and to the side and twisting until he was straddling her, pinning her arms to the ground on either side of her head. He loomed over her, eyes glittering with malice and lust. Yes, Buffy was pretty sure it was lust since she could feel his hardness pressing right against her pubic bone. She was breathing hard now. He was hardly breathing.
His face lowered closer....closer to hers, until they were mere inches apart. "So what do you think, Slayer?" he whispered. "Can I hurt people?"
She opened her mouth to answer, but all her snappy comebacks failed her. Then she noticed, that his hands, holding her arms, weren't digging in and causing pain. Instead his thumbs were slowly caressing the soft skin of her inside wrists, making little circles that were sending bolts of sensation straight to her crotch. It tickled and tingled, and Buffy wiggled a little under him.
Spike descended the last few inches to her mouth. "It's not us. 's the rings," he muttered the mantra against her lips, then he was kissing her.
To be continued.....