Chapter Three
Drusilla walked into the little theatre and let out a loud yell. It wasn't a yell or frustration or anger or pain: it was just a yell, because Drusilla was quite crazy.
From the wings of the little stage a man emerged, a tall, good-looking man with dark hair and soulful eyes.
"Hey, honey," he said. "You're home."
Drusilla looked down at him and a smile broke out on her face.
"I saw something shiny," she said, running down the aisle of seats and throwing herself at the tall man. He caught her and swept her up onto the stage and kissed her cinematically.
"You saw it? The fifth one?"
"Glowing and sparkling like the sun," Drusilla made motions with her hands.
"Yes, but did you see it?"
"So shiny..." Drusilla looked up at him. "Angel," she said, passing her hands over his face. "You glow. You glow, too."
"Yeah, I'm just a cigarette butt in the dark. Dru, baby-"
"But he was there." Her face darkened and she tore away from him, stomping across the stage.
"He? Who?" Angel's face darkened. "Spike?"
"He was hiding her, he had her, I knew it," Drusilla whined.
"Spike's protecting her?" Angel did some creative swearing. "That makes things harder."
Drusilla was standing at the edge of the stage, her pale eyes sad, her face fragile.
"All you care about is getting all five," she sulked.
"Do you know how rich that will make us?"
"That's all you care about, your gold. That doesn't shine. Money doesn't shine, it's dirty, I hate it, it makes you dirty..."
Angel crossed the stage to her, his boots thudding on the boards. "Dru," he put his arms around her. "I'm doing this for you. So I can buy you lots of pretty things."
"You're a pretty thing," she said, tracing his face with a long, reverse manicured nail.
"And so are you." He grinned slowly. "You glow."
"You really think so?" Dru asked dreamily.
"Mmm. Now let's see if you glow all over..."
*
Buffy stared at Giles.
"But it can't be," she said sensibly. "Where would Riley get something so valuable?"
"Probably he stole it," Xander said, gesturing with a chocolate bar, now he and Anya had finished the crisps. "I never liked the guy. Too much muscle. You can't like a guy with too much muscle."
Anya took half the chocolate bar. "You're just jealous 'cos you don't have any."
"But, Giles," Buffy said, twisting her ring, "why would anyone want this? It's just a present from a guy to a girl."
"Buffy, try to think," Giles said seriously. "Can you think that Riley might have had any dodgy dealings? Any friends who seemed slightly shady to you?"
Buffy thought back to the hulks that Riley had hung out with.
"All of them," she said.
"Well, was there anybody of especially bad reputation?"
Buffy thought some more.
"All of them," she repeated.
Giles sighed. "He was in with a bad crowd? He always seemed so stable. Such a-"
"A nice young man. Giles, you sound like my mom."
"I thought he was nice," Anya piped up. "Very burly."
Buffy and Xander glared at her.
"Well, he was. Although his friends were sexist assholes. Giles, do you got any popcorn? This is entertaining."
"No, and it's do you have, not do you got," Giles corrected irritably. "And it's not supposed to be entertaining. Buffy's life could be in danger. The Angelus group is a very dangerous faction. They've been known to kill people before, and in very unpleasant ways."
"Is there a pleasant way to kill someone?" Xander asked.
"Well, overdosing on sleeping pills wouldn't be too bad," Anya said.
"Beheading's supposed to be quick," Buffy said helpfully.
"Yeah, but did you know your brain keeps on working even after your head is cut off?" Xander said eagerly. "There's blood everywhere, but your eyes are still moving and you could even speak, if you had the vocal chords."
"Euw, gross," Anya bashed him. "I'm going to die in bed with Xander. Having sex with him. When I'm very old."
They all baulked at this. Sometimes Anya's frankness did not lead to very pretty pictures.
"Yes, well," Giles tried to reclaim the situation, "I have a feeling that the Angelus group are not planning on stuffing Buffy with sleeping pills or beheading her quickly. Or anything else," he added sternly as Anya opened her mouth. "Buffy, you need twenty-four hour protection. I wanted you to leave California because I knew that the Angelus group operates out of there, but I didn't think... I'd forgotten about Drusilla..."
"Yeah, and what's the deal with that?" Buffy asked. "Is she insane?"
"More or less," Giles said. He polished his glasses and looked at her apologetically. "Welcome to England."
*
Tara made her way through the museum halls with her broom. It wasn't, strictly speaking, her job, but Jenny who did the cleaning had to stay home with her son, who was ill, and Tara didn't want her to take any sick days. So she'd trailed half of the huge empty halls with the broom, wondering where everyone was. Didn't people go to museums any more?
Concentrating on the floor, she frowned at a cigarette butt and chased after it with the broom, not looking where she was going and running straight into a pair of biker boots.
"Oh!" She looked up, her hand to her mouth. "I'm s-sorry, I didn't s-see you there, I-"
And then she looked up a little further.
"Spike?"
He scowled at her, taking out a fresh cigarette and lighting up.
"You kn-now you can't s-smoke in here," she stammered, pointing to a smoke detector.
"And that's gonna stop me, is it?" He gestured to the butts she was sweeping up. "Didn't detect any of them."
Tara sighed and went after them with the broom. Spike watched her, leaning against a glass cabinet filled with nineteenth century china. It was an odd contrast: Spike with his ferocious edges, black leather and huge boots, and the delicate, floral china reflected in the thick glass.
"I didn't think you were so interested in tea sets," Tara managed without stuttering. Spike always made her nervous.
"I drink tea," Spike defended. "In polystyrene cups from dodgy guys at the station, but you know."
"Not quite the same."
"I wanted to see you," Spike said, and Tara dropped the broom. Spike watched in amusement as she picked it up and dusted off the handle nervously. Eventually she turned to face him.
"M-me?"
"Yes, y-you."
"Don't tease me, Spike."
He grinned. "But you're all blushing. It's very cute. Do I make you nervous, pet? I'd think you were in love with me but I know that's not the case." He raised his eyebrows at her and Tara blushed further.
"Why do you want to see me?"
"You know Buffy."
Tara frowned. "Mr Giles's friend? Not very well."
"You were out boozing with her last night."
"Well, we had a couple of drinks..."
"Did she say anything?"
Tara raised her eyebrows.
"Well, she said lots of things," she began drily.
"I mean, did she-"
Tara stared. Then she covered her mouth again. Her eyes were dancing.
"What?" Spike asked menacingly.
"Did she say anything about you?" Tara giggled.
"No, did she say anything about her ex. And a ring he gave her," Spike waggled his finger at her, and then added, "And yeah, anything about me?"
Tara leaned on her broom, still giggling. "Are you jealous of Riley?"
"No! Guy's a poof."
"Hey," Tara said severely, pointing her broom at him.
"I - well, you know. He's an idiot."
"Have you ever even met him?"
"No, but he sounds like an idiot."
"He and Buffy were together for a whole year," Tara said. "I think they had something pretty special there."
"Still split up though, didn't they? Anyway, listen kid, did she say anything about the ring?"
Tara shrugged. "I thought it was pretty, and she said her old boyfriend gave it to her for her birthday. When she was twenty one."
"Is that all she is?" Spike looked mildly appalled. "Bloody hell."
"That's all I am too," Tara said.
"Yeah, but you're a student. And you're - shut up," Spike said, annoyed. "Did she say anything else?"
"About Riley, the ring, or how hot she finds you?" Tara teased.
He glared at her. "This is purely professional," he said.
"Of course," Tara replied solemnly.
"I've been hired to look after her."
"Of course you have."
"I bloody have!"
"And you took the job for how much? Twenty p?"
He jabbed his cigarette in her direction. "You shut up. I'm doing what I'm paid for."
"Who's paying you?"
"Can't tell you that."
"Right." Tara idly chased a sweet wrapper with her broom. "Spike?"
"What?"
"If you're supposed to be protecting her, then where is she?"
His face changed.
"Oh, bloody hell," he snapped, and stormed out, Tara grinning behind him.
*
Buffy lay in bed, hot despite the chilly night, her skin prickling where Spike had touched her. She could still feel his warm fingers on her foot, she didn't want to take off the dressing he'd put there. His hands had caressed her arms, her shoulders, his lips had been hot and his tongue insistent...
Buffy swallowed. If he came to her now what would she do? Let him in? Let him see her in her pyjamas - no, they were too childish. She'd unfasten a few buttons and let the top slide down over her shoulder, maybe exposing some of her breast. Let him take her in his arms and kiss her again, until she was dizzy and could no longer stand and he picked her up and laid her down on the bed, his hand slipping down over her bare shoulder to caress her breast, her aching, sensitive nipple. And she'd kiss him hard, letting her leg slip around his waist so she could feel him against her, hard and excited.
He'd kiss her neck, nipping the soft skin with his teeth. He wouldn't be gentle, no, that wasn't his style. He'd pull the buttons off her pyjama top and nuzzle at her breasts, taking one hard nipple between his lips and sucking, licking, bruising it with his teeth, while Buffy's fingers tangled in his hair and she slid her free arm under his coat to feel the hot, hard muscles under his T-shirt.
The coat would fall away and Spike would be naked from the waist up, and that hard body she'd felt when he kissed her would be bared in all its glory for her to touch and kiss. She'd lick his chest, feel the contours of his washboard stomach with her tongue, look up and see his face sharpen with pleasure. He'd push her back down and wrestle off her pyjama bottoms, taking her knickers with them, and she'd lie there naked while his fingers caressed her thighs - no, he was going to be brutal, no caressing - he'd dig his long, strong fingers into her soft flesh, and Buffy would moan, lifting her hips, wanting him.
And then, his eyes on hers, watching for her reaction, he'd slide his fingers between her legs and find her wet and slippery for him, stroke her while she writhed under him, slip his finger inside her as she moaned, "Spike, I want you inside me..."
Buffy snapped her eyes open. She was having erotic fantasies about a man called Spike? She shook herself. This was not good. A man like him was not going to hold her afterwards and cherish her. He'd pull up his jeans, toss a 'Thanks, love,' over his shoulder, and be gone.
Buffy turned on her side, ignoring the ache in her nipples and the dampness between her legs. She'd go to sleep and dream of puppies and rainbows and chocolate and non-sexual things.
He dreams were full of Spike, naked and big and skilled, and she woke up in the morning panting.
*
"So then, Buffster," Xander said as he poured milk on his cereal, "what do you want to do today?"
Find Spike, Buffy thought, but she shrugged and picked up a croissant. "I don't know. Giles, can we go on that big wheel thingy?"
"The London Eye? Yes, I should think so. I won't be able to come with you, though, I do have a lot of work to do."
The phone rang and he went out into the hall to answer it.
"Aren't you scared?" Anya asked Buffy. "About that ring you have. Someone bad is coming after you."
"Thank you, Anya, I really needed to hear that first thing." Buffy started pulling bits off her croissant. "I dunno. It doesn't really seem real. It's not like he's out there, beating at the door-"
Right then, someone started knocking on the door, and Buffy's head whipped round.
"Okay, that is not funny," she said, getting up and going past Giles to the front door. She opened it without thinking of the chain lock, and stared at the visitor.
"Spike?"
He grinned. "Nice jammies, love."
Buffy looked down and realised she was still in her Yummi Sushi pyjamas. Images of the last time she'd stood in this doorway with Spike flashed back through her mind, and she gulped.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, trying not to turn red. She felt for the buttons on her pyjama top: she didn't care if Xander or Anya saw more than they should, but somehow with Spike...
Actually, with Spike, she wanted him to see a little more...
Stop, Buffy, she scolded herself, walking back into the kitchen, Spike behind her. Bad Buffy. Down girl.
"Hey, mystery man," Xander looked up. "You vanished yesterday."
"Had things to do," Spike said enigmatically.
Buffy folded herself back onto her chair and picked up her mangled croissant. "But you're back now?"
"I am. I think you've slain that croissant, love."
Buffy ignored that. "How come you're back?"
But before Spike could answer - or more likely, Buffy thought, fail to answer - Giles came back in. He looked pale.
"Giles? What's wrong?"
He shook himself. "That was Willow. There was a break-in," he said. "Last night. At the museum."
"Was anything taken?" Anya asked.
Giles took off his glasses. "No. But the vaults were ransacked."
"You have vaults?" Buffy said. "Cool."
Giles gave her one of the looks only Giles could pull off: half severe, half despairing.
"Anyone see anything?" Spike asked, and Giles looked up, surprised to see him. How could he be surprised, Buffy thought, it was impossible to not know exactly where Spike was. Or was that just her?
"Well, we don't know," Giles said. "There was one witness, we think..."
"You think?"
"Yes, well, she's not exactly in a position to tell anyone what she saw."
An awful, icy suspicion clawed its way up Buffy's spine.
"Who was it?" she asked, dreading the answer. Her eyes met Spike's and she knew he was thinking the same thing.
"It was Tara," Giles said, and Buffy suddenly felt dizzy.