"Still Bound" chapter 8
Buffy's secret is out but before anyone has a chance to deal we move into "Tabula Rasa" territory.
*********
"So I'm going to be an aunt. Hah," she giggled. "Auntie Dawn." Popping a handful of dry Cap'n Crunch in her mouth, Dawn chewed noisily. She followed it with a big gulp of orange juice, then set the empty glass down with a bang. "Anti-Dawn. Cool."
"Yeah, real cool," Buffy said sarcastically as she rested a hand on her upset stomach.
"You should eat plain toast and tea. That'll help with the nausea," Dawn informed her practically. "That's what Peggy Marick said. You know she was pregnant in eighth grade! Her mom's raising the baby."
Buffy shuddered at the thought of being lumped in with teen moms. It so wasn't her.
"How are you gonna get ahold of Riley," Dawn said thoughtfully. "You have to tell him." She gave her sister an evil look. "You can't wait for some demon to force you to sing it at him!"
"I told you, Dawn, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do yet. I wasn't ready to tell everybody."
"I'm not everybody. I'm your sister!"
Buffy grabbed a dishcloth and started wiping spilled milk off the counter. "Did you do your laundry like I asked yesterday? Willow needs to wash a load so you have to get your stuff out of the dryer if you haven't already."
"Yeah. Sure I did it," Dawn mumbled. "Almost." She picked strings off the banana she was eating and carefully cut out a bruised part. "Buffy, do you think Tara will be moving in too? After last night ... she was so mad and hurt. Do you think they can make up?"
"I don't know." Buffy paused in her cleaning. "Willow's got a lot of 'sorry' to do. We'll just see what happens."
Both girls looked simultaneously toward the stairs, but Willow hadn't risen yet. She had shown up on their doorstep late last night after arguing with Tara for hours. She claimed Tara just needed a little time to think and that everything would be all right soon.
All of the Scoobies were supposed to meet at the Magic Box in another couple of hours so Giles could share some information on a possible new threat to Sunnydale. Buffy wondered if Tara would even come.
"Well, whatever happens between them I hope we can still be friends with Tara. I like her," Dawn bit into her surgically corrected banana. "She's like a sister. Only nice."
Buffy tossed down her dishcloth. "I'll go see if Willow's ready to get up," she said through gritted teeth and left the kitchen.
********
Buffy and Dawn ended up leaving for the Magic Box a little ahead of Willow, who insisted they go on without her, that she would catch up. Pausing in front of the shop door, Buffy steeled herself to face the inevitable questions and sympathies from her friends. Tara, if she were there, would be supportive and sweet. Anya could be counted on to make rude remarks about Buffy's carelessness in allowing herself to get in this position and possibly share yet another detail from her and Xander's love life. Xander himself loved her like a brother and would probably be all protective-guy, with jolly heartiness on the surface and an undercurrent of 'I'm so disappointed I you'. And Giles? Buffy plain didn't want to think about Giles' level of disappointment and disapproval.
Dawn grabbed her arm and pulled.
"Stop dawdling. Mom always said, better to just get it over with - like pulling off a band-aid," Dawn counseled as she guided her big sister into the building.
"Buffy! How you doin'?" Xander's voice was overly hearty and cheerful. "Come sit down." He pulled out the chair next to him at the table. How ya feeling? Can I get you anything? Boy, that was some musical review we had yesterday, huh? I'm still sucking throat lozenges. You want a sweet roll, Buff? Cause I could do a doughnut run if you're hungry."
Giles looked up from a text he was studying over by the ladder to the loft where the Dark Arts books were kept. He managed a tiny welcoming smile before setting down the book, pulling off his glasses and starting to polish.
"You should have a cup of tea. You're looking peaked," Anya added, lifting the pot from the hot plate. "Though these days I think they want you to steer clear of caffeine when you're pregnant, maybe a juicebox....?" She fell silent under Xander's quick glare.
Tara, who was sitting at the table with Xander, also acknowledged Buffy with a gentle smile. Her eyes were red-rimmed and Buffy doubted she had had much sleep the previous night.
"Okay, everybody," Buffy said. "Thanks for being nice and solicitatious or whatever, but I'm not fragile. You don't have to be so edgy and weird."
"That's a relief," Anya replied. "I hate when things are awkward and Xander gives me dirty looks every time I say something he thinks is wrong. What's wrong with saying you're pregnant when you are and everybody knows you are?"
Dawn offered her support. "That's right. The sooner it's out in the open the better."
"All right." Buffy drew a deep breath. "Everything I sang last night was true. I'm about three months along and didn't have a clue 'til just recently. Obviously Riley doesn't know about it and since he left no forwarding, it may take some time to give him the news. And I've thought long and hard about terminating the pregnancy. Don't think I haven't. I know it's terrible timing, if there's anything like good timing for a Slayer to be pregnant, but I want to have this baby anyway. And ... and that's about it. Any questions?"
"Buffy, you don't have to explain yourself to us," Tara said quietly as she rose and walked toward her. "Whatever you want to do is the right thing to do."
"It-it's not completely unknown for a Slayer to have a child," Giles added. He offered Buffy another tentative smile followed by a concerned frown. "However, it is not an easy proposition. There are many ramifications to consider both during the pregnancy and after, not the least of them being your ability to function as Slayer and your personal financial situation. You must give thought to who would raise the child if.."
"Hey, no problem," Xander overrode him. "We'll take over the slaying while Buffy's out of commission and after the little kiddle's born Uncle Xander's babysitting service will kick in. I'm sure all of us will be happy to help out in any way we can!" He gave Giles a hard stare.
"Of course. That goes without saying," Giles backpedaled and struck a reassuring tone. "I may be a bit taken aback by your news, Buffy, but we'll muddle along and find a way to make it work." He slipped his glasses back on and met her eyes for the first time since she'd entered the Magic Box.
"And if Buffy should bite the big one, Xander and I could adopt Riley Jr. . or Baby Buffy," Anya suddenly interrupted. "Of course, we plan to have children of our own, but we would very generously take Baby Buffy into our home and look after her as if she were ours, giving her the same advantages as our natural offspring." She nodded happily at the thought and gave Buffy a wide grin. "So don't worry, you're covered if you get wacked."
"Thank you," the Slayer said drily.
The front door bell jangled and Willow entered the shop. "Hey, everybody. What'd I miss?"
Tara, who was now standing by Buffy and resting a hand on her arm, dropped her eyes and studied the nearby candle display.
"Willow," Giles acknowledged with a nod.
Willow's face crumpled a little at all the disapproving expressions aimed her way. "I...." she opened her mouth, then screamed and jumped to the side as Spike came banging through the door behind her, smoking from every bit of exposed skin.
He was wearing a cap with earflaps, oversize sunglasses and the ugliest orange suit ever manufactured by man. He shed the hat and sunglasses, boosted himself up onto the checkout counter and straightened his tie nonchalantly.
"Morning, all. Or afternoon, anyway."
"What's with the suit?" Xander asked. "Finally changing your style?"
"It's a disguise. There are some gentlemen I'd rather not see just now."
"Of course. You should...."
Xander's head dropped to the table in mid-speech and he began to snore lightly. Spike fell back onto the counter in a dead faint. Anya's cup slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor with a crash with Anya right behind it. Giles dropped his book and collapsed against the ladder before sliding down to the floor. Willow, Dawn, Buffy and Tara all tumbled into individual heaps. In a moment absolute silence reigned in the still, musty air of the Magic Box.
***********
Several hours and a vampire attack later, the besieged group was peering through the blinds at the horrible creatures prowling outside the shop.
"It seems that I'm the one these monsters are after, although why they're calling me 'Spike' I have no idea," Randy said to Joan who was handling one of the pointy whittled sticks with an appraising look in her eye. "I have to lead them away from the others."
"You can't do it alone," Joan protested. "And since it looks like I'm a superwoman of some kind I'd better go with you to protect you." She turned to the shopkeepers, the teenager and the group of college kids. "The rest of you bolt the door behind us. We'll distract the vampires and get them to follow us."
"You're so brave!" Dawn, who may or may not be Joan's sister declared. "I want to be just like you when I grow up. A hero."
Joan brushed a hand over the girl's cheek. "I'm sure you will be. But for now you just keep safe." She looked up at the older man with the glasses. "Take care of her for me?"
"Certainly."
"Couldn't we just call the police or have an ambulance sent from the hospital?" the other shopkeeper, the one named Anya, interrupted. "I mean, there's a phone right over there...."
"Ooh! I remember what to call. It's 9-1-1," the red-haired girl, Willow, proclaimed.
Anya was already at the phone dialing the number. "Can you believe it? Busy! Holy crap, how can an emergency line be busy?"
"Do you really think anyone would believe us or come anyway?" the heavy young man named Xander said condescendingly. "I mean when we say, 'oh yes officer, I've lost my memory along with a whole group of people and there are scary, monster-guys trying to get us,' that'll bring the police running!"
"You have a better idea?" Anya huffed.
"Enough arguing," Joan interrupted. "Anya, you keep trying 911 if you want. The rest of you just sit tight while Randy and I go for help. Okay?" Her tone brooked no argument so everyone nodded dutifully.
"Uh, just a minute, son," Rupert Giles said as Randy and Joan prepared to battle their way out the front door with the stakes they had found.
"Oh, right," the young blond man stepped up to his father and hugged him awkwardly. They separated with a manly clap on the back.
"Take care, my boy."
Randy nodded. He took a deep breath and nodded a second time at Joan, who pulled the door open and launched herself out amongst the vampires. Randy barreled after her with a war cry, head and shoulders down, pushing through the foe like a linebacker.
When he looked up Joan was yards ahead of him, whirling and jabbing with her stake. He saw it pierce one of the fanged creatures right through the heart and dissolve it into dust, the same feat Joan had accomplished in the shop earlier. Randy gasped in amazement and from the foot that had just kicked him in the stomach. He seized the offending foot and twisted, sending its owner spinning around and face down onto the ground. He decided this would be a good opportunity to test one of the stakes for himself, driving it through his opponent's back with a satisfying squelch. Again he was amazed to see the human form burst into a cloud of dust.
But behind his surprise there was also a sense of familiarity to the rhythm of kick-kick-punch-pummel-thrust. Randy found himself grinning as he waltzed through another fight with practiced ease.
"Hey," he called to Joan, "I think maybe I'm a superhero, too! Watch this!" He leaped into the air and came down with a kick to the back of Joan's latest opponent, cracking the vampire's spine.
"Randy, that one was mine!" the girl protested, pushing him out of the way and staking the assailant. "There's enough here for both of us. Too many, in fact."
She was right. The next pair of vampires was already upon Randy. One held him by the arms, while the other practiced tae-bo on his face. Randy took the blows for a moment, then, using the vampire holding him for a base, pulled his legs up and kicked out at the one punching him, sending him backward. He then wrested his arms away from the other vampire's grip.
"Come on!" Joan was beckoning. "Just run!" She grabbed at his arm and pulled him behind her as she pelted down the sidewalk. The couple ran until they had left the last of their pursuers far behind.
Joan finally paused in an alley entrance, leaning against a brick wall and looking up the empty street. "They're gone," she panted.
"You don't think they've turned back and will hurt the others?" Randy asked worriedly. "Or wreck Dad's shop."
"No. It seemed pretty clear that you're the one who had something they wanted," Joan replied. "What have you been getting mixed up in, young man?" she asked with mock severity.
"I have no idea!"
"And why in god's name are you wearing that horrible suit!" she added only half-teasingly. "There's no way I could be dating you. I'd never be with someone who has such lame fashion sense. I'm sure of it."
Randy stopped looking for pursuers and eyed Joan sharply. "What makes you think that you and I might possibly be an ... an item?" he asked with interest.
"An item! I didn't say that. I said we wouldn't be a couple." She looked him over from head to toe. "No way."
"I say, that's a bit rough," he protested. "I'm not that repellant."
"No," she agreed. "It's just the outfit. You're actually kinda...." She examined his cut-glass cheekbones, white blond shock of hair and rakishly sliced eyebrow, then decided she'd be damned if she admitted he was hot. She pushed off from the wall and led the way up the street again.
Randy trailed after her. "Actually, I think it's highly likely we are a couple. I feel ... something. Don't you?"
"Don't know what you're talking about," she replied airily.
"Come on," he moved up alongside her and grabbed her arm. "You're telling me it doesn't feel somehow familiar. You. Me. Walking together in the dark. Fighting things. Arguing with each other. Feels like the most natural thing in the world."
"You're not my type," she continued to protest.
"How do you know?"
"I just know."
"Tell you what, let's give it a test run and see if anything feels familiar."
"Give what a test run?"
"A kiss."
"I am NOT letting you kiss me." She walked a little faster but he kept pace with her.
"Then you kiss me," he persisted.
"No."
"Just one. Just once. If it doesn't feel right, if it doesn't feel like ... us, I'll drop it."
"You'll drop it," she repeated, deadpan. "I get the feeling you're one of those types who never drop it even after they've been dropped. That's it. I probably just broke up with you and you still keep harassing me. I should get a restraining order."
"So why were you in my dad's shop?" he asked with a smirk. "Maybe I dumped you and you still keep coming back for more, eh?"
She whirled on him, a comeback ready on her lips, and he stopped it with a kiss. Joan froze in surprise as Randy pressed against her, drawing her body to his and delivering a series of light, nibbling kisses to her lips. She gave a startled 'o' and he took advantage of it, slipping his tongue neatly inside.
She was surprised at how cool he was, not just his hands which she could feel through the thin material of the shirt pressing against her back but also his lips and the tongue exploring her mouth. It was like a scoop of ice cream on a hot summer's day, sliding deliciously around and soothing her own parched tongue.
She didn't think. She just responded and kissed him back. And it was as natural as a hundred percent cotton India wrap skirt. As natural as the supple leather of a Prada shoe. As natural as coming home and finding somebody has left the light on for you.
His hands began to roam down her back as he nestled his groin firmly into her front. Joan found her own hands grabbing at his ass, it was so tight and fine! She pulled him into her even tighter, feeling the manly lump in his jeans rubbing against her feminine mound. She gasped and kissed him harder, their teeth clicking together slightly from her enthusiasm.
Randy groaned deep in his throat and with a twist of hips, thrust against her a few times. He tore his mouth away from hers long enough to pant, "See. It's us. I told you," then was back at her again.
Twined together in a tight embrace, they shuffled back until she was pressed against the wall of a building. His hands braced on either side of her against the plate glass window of a shop. She could feel the cold hardness of the glass against her back and rear. He drew away from their fervent kissing again and looked straight into her eyes. "We might even be engaged," he said breathing raggedly. "I feel like I'm in love with you."
"So where's my ring?" she demanded coquettishly smiling and pulled him back in for another hungry kiss. She moved from his lips to his jawline, then down his neck - until the stupid collar and tie stopped her. She fumbled at the tie with unschooled fingers. "Take this thing off!" she whined. "The jacket and vest too. You look like such a dweeb, honey."
He complied, jerking carelessly at the tie and ripping the silk lining of the orangey-brown coat as he tugged his arm out. Joan helped him with the vest buttons - by ripping it open and sending them flying onto the sidewalk. He looked much better with just the tailored white shirt and open vest, with the bonus that now she could reach his body with her seeking mouth.
He gasped slightly as she licked and kissed her way down the column of his throat and over the hard planes of his chest. The top buttons of the shirt having gone the way of the vest buttons. She pulled her mouth back and ran her hands over that rock hard chest, relishing the way his skin flowed under them - so smooth and again weirdly cool like touching the robes of that marble angel which guarded the Hammermill crypt. And where did that thought come from?
His lids were lowered as he watched her hands roam over him. Pretty black lashes rested against his too-white cheeks.
"Have to get him in a tanner," she made a mental note. "Then clothes shopping and maybe a new 'do. Like the platinum, but need less gel."
As her hands skimmed further down onto his abdomen, popping more buttons on the way, she heard him emit a reverberating growl. It was almost inhuman.
As the growl died away she realized with a shock that there was no other vibration in his body ... like a heartbeat. She slid her hands back up to his chest to make sure. No bah-boom, bah-boom. Suddenly it all came together, the cool skin, the animal growl, he was one of them! She pushed him away.
"What," he asked still grasping for her as she held him at arm's length. "What's the matter, sweetheart?"
"Don't sweetheart me. You're dead! You're one of the undead like those creatures we fought. You're a vampire!"
"Am not!" he protested vehemently. "How can you say that?"
She wrapped his fingers around his own wrist. "Feel that. No pulse. And I distinctly heard you growl just now. Go ahead. Try to change your face."
Still shaking his head in disbelief, he complied. With no effort at all the bones of his face shifted and reformed into hard ridges and a pair of fangs descended in his mouth.
"I am!" his tone was shocked and wondering. "I'm a vampire. But - but why am I with you, helping you?" He looked at her searchingly, feral yellow eyes lingering on the pulse in her throat. "I should be killing you, but I don't want to."
Joan was searching for the stake she had tucked in her waistband. It must have slipped and fallen down her leg while they were running. She was still trapped between the vampire and the building with only an arm's length between them.
"I think," he pondered, "we must be lovers, two mortal enemies tied together by the bonds of love."
"Ridiculous," Joan murmured looking up at him. But she was suddenly taken with the idea and couldn't resist adding, "unless . unless you were a vampire with a soul, on the path to redemption all for love of me."
It was Randy's turn to scoff. "Vampire with a soul? Now that's ridiculous. No. I see us more as dark and light, yin and yang. I reach for your purity and you embrace my evil." Here Randy took a moment to give the word 'evil' a double meaning as he thrust his tongue against his fangs and stroked the bulge in his jeans.
Joan rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Randeee. The point is you go against your nature to prove your devotion to me - Super Vampire Killer Girl. There's a word for that, you know: pussy-whipped," she teased.
"I'd like to do more than whip her," the vampire growled as he eyed her crotch. "Wanna find out what?"
"Get over yourself. You were perfectly normal 'til you found out you were a vampire. Why do you have to act like that? Like you're some kind of Big Bad?"
"Isn't that what the evil guy does." He sounded perplexed. "How should I be?"
"Just be yourself, like you were before." Joan had dropped her arm by now, instinctively aware that there was no threat from this creature before her. "Quit posturing and convince me you're sincere."
He slipped back into his human guise and took a tentative step toward her. Lifting his hand he brushed back her hair sending a shiver down her back. "Like this?" he asked, leaning slowly in for a gentle, lingering kiss. "This how you like it?" He kissed her again.
"Just like that," she whispered after a moment, sliding her hands up to his shoulders.
Joan was released. Some deeply buried part of her was telling her things about shouldering responsibility and going against nature and fulfilling a destiny, but she didn't understand those things. Wasn't even interested. All she cared about was living this moment and she accepted the star- crossed lovers scenario without another word, without question or hesitation.
She resumed kissing the undead anti-hero with passion, wrapping her body around his until there wasn't a finger's worth of space between them anywhere.
He responded in kind, running his hands down her back and cupping her ass firmly as he drove against her through two sets of clothing. She groaned low in her throat from the friction.
Suddenly Randy drew back, "I have just one question," he said, regarding her with serious blue eyes.
"Yeah?" she murmured breathlessly.
"Do you think my dad knows what I am?"
********* Back at the Magic Box the rest of the gang was wading through rabbits and battling a group of skeleton warriors, as Anya, standing on top of the table, proclaimed the words of a spell in halting Latin.
"It's not working! Just because you work at this shop doesn't mean you know a thing about magic. Look at the mess you've made already," Willow yelled over the melee as she snatched the book from Anya's hands. "You're a retailer!"
She flipped pages looking for anything that could correct the chaos.
"And we still don't know who we are," Dawn shrieked as she threw a jar of some round objects which looked suspiciously like eyeballs floating in alcohol at one of the attackers. "We were better off with the vampires. I wish that girl Joan was here."
Giles and Alexander were back-to-back, swords flashing in opposite directions, but they were barely keeping the skeletons at bay. Meanwhile ominous gray clouds were forming against the ceiling above them.
"You'd better find something quick!" Alexander yelled. He noticed the shopgirl, Anya, screaming in terror as yet another rabbit poofed into existence right next to her foot. Instinctively he started toward her, dueling his skeletal opponent as he backed toward the table. Then he tripped over a rabbit and fell to the ground where he was almost beheaded by his attacker's blade.
Anya, with a final scream, kicked the rabbit off the table and straight into the head of the skeleton that was hacking at Alexander. The bunny bounced off the skeleton's head, landed and hopped away. Alexander crab- scuttled backward and Anya reached down from her perch on the table and hauled him up by the collar to his feet.
Meanwhile, Tara pushed her way to Willow's side and peered over her shoulder at the magic book. "What about this?" She pointed.
The two women recited the words together, "Severus finite, Redondo venite." They joined hands and lifted them slowly as power coursed through their bodies and poured out into the room.
Giles' sword thrust through open air as his nemesis disappeared. The momentum carried him forward into a bookshelf into which he impaled the sword. Books bounced from the upper shelves onto his head.
Anya was hurling books at the skeleton that had continued attacking Alexander. When his opponent disappeared, the book sailed across the room right into Dawn's face. The teen screamed and clutched at her nose.
Xander staggered sideways, regaining his balance after the skeleton he was fighting abruptly released him. His foot cracked down on a small black crystal, grinding it into shards.
In that instant the spell was broken.
**********
Buffy woke with a start to her memories and the fact that Spike's fingers were buried deep inside her and his mouth was latched wetly onto her nipple. Spike's memories must have come back too because he froze in his movements, fingers stilling, mouth ceasing its suckling.
He was crouched before her and she was braced against a tree in the park where they had moved after their play became too down and dirty for the sidewalks of Sunnydale. From momentum her pelvis thrust against his hand once or twice more before she forced herself to still as well.
Still clinging to her breast, Spike turned his head and looked up at her quizzically before disengaging his mouth with a pop to enquire, "Buffy?" She knew from his tone and the questioning head tilt that he wasn't verifying her identity but asking permission to continue. As her mind retreated from him, her body betrayed her, still reaching for his touch. She grasped his shoulder.
He smiled that infuriating smile of his at what he took to be encouragement and bent toward her breast again.
"No," she whispered, and her pull turned into a push. She tightened her hand on his shoulder, shoving at his arm, rejecting his fingers so firmly and deliciously entrenched in her depths. "Off, Spike," she commanded. He removed his fingers from inside her but stroked his hand slowly up over her belly, continuing to give her that begging look.
"Buffy," he breathed again almost soundlessly.
She shook her head. "No," she repeated more forcefully. "I mean it, Spike."
"You're killing me," he groaned, rising to his feet to face her. "Please Buffy, just be Joan again and I'll be Randy. No one else has to know."
She stepped back from him, pulling at her gaping blouse. "No. Whatever the hell happened to us, it's over now. It wasn't real."
He stepped toward her and reached for her and just for a moment Buffy thought she was going to have to punch him in the face to prove her sincerity. But with a heavy sigh and a pouting lower lip, he gently tucked her breast back into its lacy bra cup and began buttoning her blouse. "Whatever you say, love," he said quietly.
"I'll do it," Buffy thrust his hands away and continued to put herself back together, buttoning and tucking furiously, refusing to meet his eyes.
"We'd better go back to the Magic Box and check on the others; see if we can figure out what caused this," she muttered, setting off through the park at a brisk pace. Spike followed moodily along behind.
**********
Later, after everyone had had a turn yelling at Willow and they were leaving the Magic Box in varying degrees of indignation, Spike passed Buffy on his way to the door. He leaned in toward her and murmured, "We can play Randy and Joan anytime you like, pet, just let me know," then drifted out.
Even later that night, alone in his crypt, Spike made himself a bourbon and blood cocktail and dropped down into his armchair to stare blankly at the TV. He pondered which woman he'd rather kill for jerking him around, Willow or Buffy. If the little witch messed with his head one more time, he'd find a way to end her.
As for Buffy, well he couldn't strictly lay blame for the on again-off again sexual vibes at her doorstep. She had told him clearly enough that she wanted no relationship with him and it wasn't her fault the witch's mojo had clouded her thinking, but..
He sat up straighter as a singular thought struck him. Without the trappings of responsibility that went with being the Slayer, Buffy had been ready to tumble for him like a house of cards. So there must be some feeling underneath her icy exterior, right? On some level even she recognized the elemental chemistry between them. It was only a matter of time before those chemicals combusted into an all out explosion, and for that he could wait.
Spike leaned back in his chair again, half closing his eyes as he stared at the flickering image of Mr. Brady dispensing wisdom to his children. Time was something he had plenty of. Yes, he could wait.
To be continued..
Note: For those who still feel Spike is too coldly calculating in his approach to winning Buffy in my story, I try never to forget that as a vampire he thinks in terms of pursuit and conquest. Fluffy, warm feelings like the ones they shared on the honeymoon in Vegas are foreign to him. He's trying to fit his feelings for Buffy into a framework he can comprehend as a hunter. Doesn't mean he doesn't love her in his own warped way.
Buffy's secret is out but before anyone has a chance to deal we move into "Tabula Rasa" territory.
*********
"So I'm going to be an aunt. Hah," she giggled. "Auntie Dawn." Popping a handful of dry Cap'n Crunch in her mouth, Dawn chewed noisily. She followed it with a big gulp of orange juice, then set the empty glass down with a bang. "Anti-Dawn. Cool."
"Yeah, real cool," Buffy said sarcastically as she rested a hand on her upset stomach.
"You should eat plain toast and tea. That'll help with the nausea," Dawn informed her practically. "That's what Peggy Marick said. You know she was pregnant in eighth grade! Her mom's raising the baby."
Buffy shuddered at the thought of being lumped in with teen moms. It so wasn't her.
"How are you gonna get ahold of Riley," Dawn said thoughtfully. "You have to tell him." She gave her sister an evil look. "You can't wait for some demon to force you to sing it at him!"
"I told you, Dawn, I wasn't sure what I wanted to do yet. I wasn't ready to tell everybody."
"I'm not everybody. I'm your sister!"
Buffy grabbed a dishcloth and started wiping spilled milk off the counter. "Did you do your laundry like I asked yesterday? Willow needs to wash a load so you have to get your stuff out of the dryer if you haven't already."
"Yeah. Sure I did it," Dawn mumbled. "Almost." She picked strings off the banana she was eating and carefully cut out a bruised part. "Buffy, do you think Tara will be moving in too? After last night ... she was so mad and hurt. Do you think they can make up?"
"I don't know." Buffy paused in her cleaning. "Willow's got a lot of 'sorry' to do. We'll just see what happens."
Both girls looked simultaneously toward the stairs, but Willow hadn't risen yet. She had shown up on their doorstep late last night after arguing with Tara for hours. She claimed Tara just needed a little time to think and that everything would be all right soon.
All of the Scoobies were supposed to meet at the Magic Box in another couple of hours so Giles could share some information on a possible new threat to Sunnydale. Buffy wondered if Tara would even come.
"Well, whatever happens between them I hope we can still be friends with Tara. I like her," Dawn bit into her surgically corrected banana. "She's like a sister. Only nice."
Buffy tossed down her dishcloth. "I'll go see if Willow's ready to get up," she said through gritted teeth and left the kitchen.
********
Buffy and Dawn ended up leaving for the Magic Box a little ahead of Willow, who insisted they go on without her, that she would catch up. Pausing in front of the shop door, Buffy steeled herself to face the inevitable questions and sympathies from her friends. Tara, if she were there, would be supportive and sweet. Anya could be counted on to make rude remarks about Buffy's carelessness in allowing herself to get in this position and possibly share yet another detail from her and Xander's love life. Xander himself loved her like a brother and would probably be all protective-guy, with jolly heartiness on the surface and an undercurrent of 'I'm so disappointed I you'. And Giles? Buffy plain didn't want to think about Giles' level of disappointment and disapproval.
Dawn grabbed her arm and pulled.
"Stop dawdling. Mom always said, better to just get it over with - like pulling off a band-aid," Dawn counseled as she guided her big sister into the building.
"Buffy! How you doin'?" Xander's voice was overly hearty and cheerful. "Come sit down." He pulled out the chair next to him at the table. How ya feeling? Can I get you anything? Boy, that was some musical review we had yesterday, huh? I'm still sucking throat lozenges. You want a sweet roll, Buff? Cause I could do a doughnut run if you're hungry."
Giles looked up from a text he was studying over by the ladder to the loft where the Dark Arts books were kept. He managed a tiny welcoming smile before setting down the book, pulling off his glasses and starting to polish.
"You should have a cup of tea. You're looking peaked," Anya added, lifting the pot from the hot plate. "Though these days I think they want you to steer clear of caffeine when you're pregnant, maybe a juicebox....?" She fell silent under Xander's quick glare.
Tara, who was sitting at the table with Xander, also acknowledged Buffy with a gentle smile. Her eyes were red-rimmed and Buffy doubted she had had much sleep the previous night.
"Okay, everybody," Buffy said. "Thanks for being nice and solicitatious or whatever, but I'm not fragile. You don't have to be so edgy and weird."
"That's a relief," Anya replied. "I hate when things are awkward and Xander gives me dirty looks every time I say something he thinks is wrong. What's wrong with saying you're pregnant when you are and everybody knows you are?"
Dawn offered her support. "That's right. The sooner it's out in the open the better."
"All right." Buffy drew a deep breath. "Everything I sang last night was true. I'm about three months along and didn't have a clue 'til just recently. Obviously Riley doesn't know about it and since he left no forwarding, it may take some time to give him the news. And I've thought long and hard about terminating the pregnancy. Don't think I haven't. I know it's terrible timing, if there's anything like good timing for a Slayer to be pregnant, but I want to have this baby anyway. And ... and that's about it. Any questions?"
"Buffy, you don't have to explain yourself to us," Tara said quietly as she rose and walked toward her. "Whatever you want to do is the right thing to do."
"It-it's not completely unknown for a Slayer to have a child," Giles added. He offered Buffy another tentative smile followed by a concerned frown. "However, it is not an easy proposition. There are many ramifications to consider both during the pregnancy and after, not the least of them being your ability to function as Slayer and your personal financial situation. You must give thought to who would raise the child if.."
"Hey, no problem," Xander overrode him. "We'll take over the slaying while Buffy's out of commission and after the little kiddle's born Uncle Xander's babysitting service will kick in. I'm sure all of us will be happy to help out in any way we can!" He gave Giles a hard stare.
"Of course. That goes without saying," Giles backpedaled and struck a reassuring tone. "I may be a bit taken aback by your news, Buffy, but we'll muddle along and find a way to make it work." He slipped his glasses back on and met her eyes for the first time since she'd entered the Magic Box.
"And if Buffy should bite the big one, Xander and I could adopt Riley Jr. . or Baby Buffy," Anya suddenly interrupted. "Of course, we plan to have children of our own, but we would very generously take Baby Buffy into our home and look after her as if she were ours, giving her the same advantages as our natural offspring." She nodded happily at the thought and gave Buffy a wide grin. "So don't worry, you're covered if you get wacked."
"Thank you," the Slayer said drily.
The front door bell jangled and Willow entered the shop. "Hey, everybody. What'd I miss?"
Tara, who was now standing by Buffy and resting a hand on her arm, dropped her eyes and studied the nearby candle display.
"Willow," Giles acknowledged with a nod.
Willow's face crumpled a little at all the disapproving expressions aimed her way. "I...." she opened her mouth, then screamed and jumped to the side as Spike came banging through the door behind her, smoking from every bit of exposed skin.
He was wearing a cap with earflaps, oversize sunglasses and the ugliest orange suit ever manufactured by man. He shed the hat and sunglasses, boosted himself up onto the checkout counter and straightened his tie nonchalantly.
"Morning, all. Or afternoon, anyway."
"What's with the suit?" Xander asked. "Finally changing your style?"
"It's a disguise. There are some gentlemen I'd rather not see just now."
"Of course. You should...."
Xander's head dropped to the table in mid-speech and he began to snore lightly. Spike fell back onto the counter in a dead faint. Anya's cup slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor with a crash with Anya right behind it. Giles dropped his book and collapsed against the ladder before sliding down to the floor. Willow, Dawn, Buffy and Tara all tumbled into individual heaps. In a moment absolute silence reigned in the still, musty air of the Magic Box.
***********
Several hours and a vampire attack later, the besieged group was peering through the blinds at the horrible creatures prowling outside the shop.
"It seems that I'm the one these monsters are after, although why they're calling me 'Spike' I have no idea," Randy said to Joan who was handling one of the pointy whittled sticks with an appraising look in her eye. "I have to lead them away from the others."
"You can't do it alone," Joan protested. "And since it looks like I'm a superwoman of some kind I'd better go with you to protect you." She turned to the shopkeepers, the teenager and the group of college kids. "The rest of you bolt the door behind us. We'll distract the vampires and get them to follow us."
"You're so brave!" Dawn, who may or may not be Joan's sister declared. "I want to be just like you when I grow up. A hero."
Joan brushed a hand over the girl's cheek. "I'm sure you will be. But for now you just keep safe." She looked up at the older man with the glasses. "Take care of her for me?"
"Certainly."
"Couldn't we just call the police or have an ambulance sent from the hospital?" the other shopkeeper, the one named Anya, interrupted. "I mean, there's a phone right over there...."
"Ooh! I remember what to call. It's 9-1-1," the red-haired girl, Willow, proclaimed.
Anya was already at the phone dialing the number. "Can you believe it? Busy! Holy crap, how can an emergency line be busy?"
"Do you really think anyone would believe us or come anyway?" the heavy young man named Xander said condescendingly. "I mean when we say, 'oh yes officer, I've lost my memory along with a whole group of people and there are scary, monster-guys trying to get us,' that'll bring the police running!"
"You have a better idea?" Anya huffed.
"Enough arguing," Joan interrupted. "Anya, you keep trying 911 if you want. The rest of you just sit tight while Randy and I go for help. Okay?" Her tone brooked no argument so everyone nodded dutifully.
"Uh, just a minute, son," Rupert Giles said as Randy and Joan prepared to battle their way out the front door with the stakes they had found.
"Oh, right," the young blond man stepped up to his father and hugged him awkwardly. They separated with a manly clap on the back.
"Take care, my boy."
Randy nodded. He took a deep breath and nodded a second time at Joan, who pulled the door open and launched herself out amongst the vampires. Randy barreled after her with a war cry, head and shoulders down, pushing through the foe like a linebacker.
When he looked up Joan was yards ahead of him, whirling and jabbing with her stake. He saw it pierce one of the fanged creatures right through the heart and dissolve it into dust, the same feat Joan had accomplished in the shop earlier. Randy gasped in amazement and from the foot that had just kicked him in the stomach. He seized the offending foot and twisted, sending its owner spinning around and face down onto the ground. He decided this would be a good opportunity to test one of the stakes for himself, driving it through his opponent's back with a satisfying squelch. Again he was amazed to see the human form burst into a cloud of dust.
But behind his surprise there was also a sense of familiarity to the rhythm of kick-kick-punch-pummel-thrust. Randy found himself grinning as he waltzed through another fight with practiced ease.
"Hey," he called to Joan, "I think maybe I'm a superhero, too! Watch this!" He leaped into the air and came down with a kick to the back of Joan's latest opponent, cracking the vampire's spine.
"Randy, that one was mine!" the girl protested, pushing him out of the way and staking the assailant. "There's enough here for both of us. Too many, in fact."
She was right. The next pair of vampires was already upon Randy. One held him by the arms, while the other practiced tae-bo on his face. Randy took the blows for a moment, then, using the vampire holding him for a base, pulled his legs up and kicked out at the one punching him, sending him backward. He then wrested his arms away from the other vampire's grip.
"Come on!" Joan was beckoning. "Just run!" She grabbed at his arm and pulled him behind her as she pelted down the sidewalk. The couple ran until they had left the last of their pursuers far behind.
Joan finally paused in an alley entrance, leaning against a brick wall and looking up the empty street. "They're gone," she panted.
"You don't think they've turned back and will hurt the others?" Randy asked worriedly. "Or wreck Dad's shop."
"No. It seemed pretty clear that you're the one who had something they wanted," Joan replied. "What have you been getting mixed up in, young man?" she asked with mock severity.
"I have no idea!"
"And why in god's name are you wearing that horrible suit!" she added only half-teasingly. "There's no way I could be dating you. I'd never be with someone who has such lame fashion sense. I'm sure of it."
Randy stopped looking for pursuers and eyed Joan sharply. "What makes you think that you and I might possibly be an ... an item?" he asked with interest.
"An item! I didn't say that. I said we wouldn't be a couple." She looked him over from head to toe. "No way."
"I say, that's a bit rough," he protested. "I'm not that repellant."
"No," she agreed. "It's just the outfit. You're actually kinda...." She examined his cut-glass cheekbones, white blond shock of hair and rakishly sliced eyebrow, then decided she'd be damned if she admitted he was hot. She pushed off from the wall and led the way up the street again.
Randy trailed after her. "Actually, I think it's highly likely we are a couple. I feel ... something. Don't you?"
"Don't know what you're talking about," she replied airily.
"Come on," he moved up alongside her and grabbed her arm. "You're telling me it doesn't feel somehow familiar. You. Me. Walking together in the dark. Fighting things. Arguing with each other. Feels like the most natural thing in the world."
"You're not my type," she continued to protest.
"How do you know?"
"I just know."
"Tell you what, let's give it a test run and see if anything feels familiar."
"Give what a test run?"
"A kiss."
"I am NOT letting you kiss me." She walked a little faster but he kept pace with her.
"Then you kiss me," he persisted.
"No."
"Just one. Just once. If it doesn't feel right, if it doesn't feel like ... us, I'll drop it."
"You'll drop it," she repeated, deadpan. "I get the feeling you're one of those types who never drop it even after they've been dropped. That's it. I probably just broke up with you and you still keep harassing me. I should get a restraining order."
"So why were you in my dad's shop?" he asked with a smirk. "Maybe I dumped you and you still keep coming back for more, eh?"
She whirled on him, a comeback ready on her lips, and he stopped it with a kiss. Joan froze in surprise as Randy pressed against her, drawing her body to his and delivering a series of light, nibbling kisses to her lips. She gave a startled 'o' and he took advantage of it, slipping his tongue neatly inside.
She was surprised at how cool he was, not just his hands which she could feel through the thin material of the shirt pressing against her back but also his lips and the tongue exploring her mouth. It was like a scoop of ice cream on a hot summer's day, sliding deliciously around and soothing her own parched tongue.
She didn't think. She just responded and kissed him back. And it was as natural as a hundred percent cotton India wrap skirt. As natural as the supple leather of a Prada shoe. As natural as coming home and finding somebody has left the light on for you.
His hands began to roam down her back as he nestled his groin firmly into her front. Joan found her own hands grabbing at his ass, it was so tight and fine! She pulled him into her even tighter, feeling the manly lump in his jeans rubbing against her feminine mound. She gasped and kissed him harder, their teeth clicking together slightly from her enthusiasm.
Randy groaned deep in his throat and with a twist of hips, thrust against her a few times. He tore his mouth away from hers long enough to pant, "See. It's us. I told you," then was back at her again.
Twined together in a tight embrace, they shuffled back until she was pressed against the wall of a building. His hands braced on either side of her against the plate glass window of a shop. She could feel the cold hardness of the glass against her back and rear. He drew away from their fervent kissing again and looked straight into her eyes. "We might even be engaged," he said breathing raggedly. "I feel like I'm in love with you."
"So where's my ring?" she demanded coquettishly smiling and pulled him back in for another hungry kiss. She moved from his lips to his jawline, then down his neck - until the stupid collar and tie stopped her. She fumbled at the tie with unschooled fingers. "Take this thing off!" she whined. "The jacket and vest too. You look like such a dweeb, honey."
He complied, jerking carelessly at the tie and ripping the silk lining of the orangey-brown coat as he tugged his arm out. Joan helped him with the vest buttons - by ripping it open and sending them flying onto the sidewalk. He looked much better with just the tailored white shirt and open vest, with the bonus that now she could reach his body with her seeking mouth.
He gasped slightly as she licked and kissed her way down the column of his throat and over the hard planes of his chest. The top buttons of the shirt having gone the way of the vest buttons. She pulled her mouth back and ran her hands over that rock hard chest, relishing the way his skin flowed under them - so smooth and again weirdly cool like touching the robes of that marble angel which guarded the Hammermill crypt. And where did that thought come from?
His lids were lowered as he watched her hands roam over him. Pretty black lashes rested against his too-white cheeks.
"Have to get him in a tanner," she made a mental note. "Then clothes shopping and maybe a new 'do. Like the platinum, but need less gel."
As her hands skimmed further down onto his abdomen, popping more buttons on the way, she heard him emit a reverberating growl. It was almost inhuman.
As the growl died away she realized with a shock that there was no other vibration in his body ... like a heartbeat. She slid her hands back up to his chest to make sure. No bah-boom, bah-boom. Suddenly it all came together, the cool skin, the animal growl, he was one of them! She pushed him away.
"What," he asked still grasping for her as she held him at arm's length. "What's the matter, sweetheart?"
"Don't sweetheart me. You're dead! You're one of the undead like those creatures we fought. You're a vampire!"
"Am not!" he protested vehemently. "How can you say that?"
She wrapped his fingers around his own wrist. "Feel that. No pulse. And I distinctly heard you growl just now. Go ahead. Try to change your face."
Still shaking his head in disbelief, he complied. With no effort at all the bones of his face shifted and reformed into hard ridges and a pair of fangs descended in his mouth.
"I am!" his tone was shocked and wondering. "I'm a vampire. But - but why am I with you, helping you?" He looked at her searchingly, feral yellow eyes lingering on the pulse in her throat. "I should be killing you, but I don't want to."
Joan was searching for the stake she had tucked in her waistband. It must have slipped and fallen down her leg while they were running. She was still trapped between the vampire and the building with only an arm's length between them.
"I think," he pondered, "we must be lovers, two mortal enemies tied together by the bonds of love."
"Ridiculous," Joan murmured looking up at him. But she was suddenly taken with the idea and couldn't resist adding, "unless . unless you were a vampire with a soul, on the path to redemption all for love of me."
It was Randy's turn to scoff. "Vampire with a soul? Now that's ridiculous. No. I see us more as dark and light, yin and yang. I reach for your purity and you embrace my evil." Here Randy took a moment to give the word 'evil' a double meaning as he thrust his tongue against his fangs and stroked the bulge in his jeans.
Joan rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Randeee. The point is you go against your nature to prove your devotion to me - Super Vampire Killer Girl. There's a word for that, you know: pussy-whipped," she teased.
"I'd like to do more than whip her," the vampire growled as he eyed her crotch. "Wanna find out what?"
"Get over yourself. You were perfectly normal 'til you found out you were a vampire. Why do you have to act like that? Like you're some kind of Big Bad?"
"Isn't that what the evil guy does." He sounded perplexed. "How should I be?"
"Just be yourself, like you were before." Joan had dropped her arm by now, instinctively aware that there was no threat from this creature before her. "Quit posturing and convince me you're sincere."
He slipped back into his human guise and took a tentative step toward her. Lifting his hand he brushed back her hair sending a shiver down her back. "Like this?" he asked, leaning slowly in for a gentle, lingering kiss. "This how you like it?" He kissed her again.
"Just like that," she whispered after a moment, sliding her hands up to his shoulders.
Joan was released. Some deeply buried part of her was telling her things about shouldering responsibility and going against nature and fulfilling a destiny, but she didn't understand those things. Wasn't even interested. All she cared about was living this moment and she accepted the star- crossed lovers scenario without another word, without question or hesitation.
She resumed kissing the undead anti-hero with passion, wrapping her body around his until there wasn't a finger's worth of space between them anywhere.
He responded in kind, running his hands down her back and cupping her ass firmly as he drove against her through two sets of clothing. She groaned low in her throat from the friction.
Suddenly Randy drew back, "I have just one question," he said, regarding her with serious blue eyes.
"Yeah?" she murmured breathlessly.
"Do you think my dad knows what I am?"
********* Back at the Magic Box the rest of the gang was wading through rabbits and battling a group of skeleton warriors, as Anya, standing on top of the table, proclaimed the words of a spell in halting Latin.
"It's not working! Just because you work at this shop doesn't mean you know a thing about magic. Look at the mess you've made already," Willow yelled over the melee as she snatched the book from Anya's hands. "You're a retailer!"
She flipped pages looking for anything that could correct the chaos.
"And we still don't know who we are," Dawn shrieked as she threw a jar of some round objects which looked suspiciously like eyeballs floating in alcohol at one of the attackers. "We were better off with the vampires. I wish that girl Joan was here."
Giles and Alexander were back-to-back, swords flashing in opposite directions, but they were barely keeping the skeletons at bay. Meanwhile ominous gray clouds were forming against the ceiling above them.
"You'd better find something quick!" Alexander yelled. He noticed the shopgirl, Anya, screaming in terror as yet another rabbit poofed into existence right next to her foot. Instinctively he started toward her, dueling his skeletal opponent as he backed toward the table. Then he tripped over a rabbit and fell to the ground where he was almost beheaded by his attacker's blade.
Anya, with a final scream, kicked the rabbit off the table and straight into the head of the skeleton that was hacking at Alexander. The bunny bounced off the skeleton's head, landed and hopped away. Alexander crab- scuttled backward and Anya reached down from her perch on the table and hauled him up by the collar to his feet.
Meanwhile, Tara pushed her way to Willow's side and peered over her shoulder at the magic book. "What about this?" She pointed.
The two women recited the words together, "Severus finite, Redondo venite." They joined hands and lifted them slowly as power coursed through their bodies and poured out into the room.
Giles' sword thrust through open air as his nemesis disappeared. The momentum carried him forward into a bookshelf into which he impaled the sword. Books bounced from the upper shelves onto his head.
Anya was hurling books at the skeleton that had continued attacking Alexander. When his opponent disappeared, the book sailed across the room right into Dawn's face. The teen screamed and clutched at her nose.
Xander staggered sideways, regaining his balance after the skeleton he was fighting abruptly released him. His foot cracked down on a small black crystal, grinding it into shards.
In that instant the spell was broken.
**********
Buffy woke with a start to her memories and the fact that Spike's fingers were buried deep inside her and his mouth was latched wetly onto her nipple. Spike's memories must have come back too because he froze in his movements, fingers stilling, mouth ceasing its suckling.
He was crouched before her and she was braced against a tree in the park where they had moved after their play became too down and dirty for the sidewalks of Sunnydale. From momentum her pelvis thrust against his hand once or twice more before she forced herself to still as well.
Still clinging to her breast, Spike turned his head and looked up at her quizzically before disengaging his mouth with a pop to enquire, "Buffy?" She knew from his tone and the questioning head tilt that he wasn't verifying her identity but asking permission to continue. As her mind retreated from him, her body betrayed her, still reaching for his touch. She grasped his shoulder.
He smiled that infuriating smile of his at what he took to be encouragement and bent toward her breast again.
"No," she whispered, and her pull turned into a push. She tightened her hand on his shoulder, shoving at his arm, rejecting his fingers so firmly and deliciously entrenched in her depths. "Off, Spike," she commanded. He removed his fingers from inside her but stroked his hand slowly up over her belly, continuing to give her that begging look.
"Buffy," he breathed again almost soundlessly.
She shook her head. "No," she repeated more forcefully. "I mean it, Spike."
"You're killing me," he groaned, rising to his feet to face her. "Please Buffy, just be Joan again and I'll be Randy. No one else has to know."
She stepped back from him, pulling at her gaping blouse. "No. Whatever the hell happened to us, it's over now. It wasn't real."
He stepped toward her and reached for her and just for a moment Buffy thought she was going to have to punch him in the face to prove her sincerity. But with a heavy sigh and a pouting lower lip, he gently tucked her breast back into its lacy bra cup and began buttoning her blouse. "Whatever you say, love," he said quietly.
"I'll do it," Buffy thrust his hands away and continued to put herself back together, buttoning and tucking furiously, refusing to meet his eyes.
"We'd better go back to the Magic Box and check on the others; see if we can figure out what caused this," she muttered, setting off through the park at a brisk pace. Spike followed moodily along behind.
**********
Later, after everyone had had a turn yelling at Willow and they were leaving the Magic Box in varying degrees of indignation, Spike passed Buffy on his way to the door. He leaned in toward her and murmured, "We can play Randy and Joan anytime you like, pet, just let me know," then drifted out.
Even later that night, alone in his crypt, Spike made himself a bourbon and blood cocktail and dropped down into his armchair to stare blankly at the TV. He pondered which woman he'd rather kill for jerking him around, Willow or Buffy. If the little witch messed with his head one more time, he'd find a way to end her.
As for Buffy, well he couldn't strictly lay blame for the on again-off again sexual vibes at her doorstep. She had told him clearly enough that she wanted no relationship with him and it wasn't her fault the witch's mojo had clouded her thinking, but..
He sat up straighter as a singular thought struck him. Without the trappings of responsibility that went with being the Slayer, Buffy had been ready to tumble for him like a house of cards. So there must be some feeling underneath her icy exterior, right? On some level even she recognized the elemental chemistry between them. It was only a matter of time before those chemicals combusted into an all out explosion, and for that he could wait.
Spike leaned back in his chair again, half closing his eyes as he stared at the flickering image of Mr. Brady dispensing wisdom to his children. Time was something he had plenty of. Yes, he could wait.
To be continued..
Note: For those who still feel Spike is too coldly calculating in his approach to winning Buffy in my story, I try never to forget that as a vampire he thinks in terms of pursuit and conquest. Fluffy, warm feelings like the ones they shared on the honeymoon in Vegas are foreign to him. He's trying to fit his feelings for Buffy into a framework he can comprehend as a hunter. Doesn't mean he doesn't love her in his own warped way.