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Spike countered with one of his own, the two enemies glaring menacingly at each other across the sound booth.
. . . Two hours later.
Buffy stared at the ceiling. It was black. The walls in the edges of her
vision were also black. The entire room was black. The head next to her
was white. The arm draped over her was pretty white, too. The knee
she could feel brushing against her own was also white, she knew,
though that was under the covers.
She shifted uncomfortably, trying to squeeze into one side of the large sleeping bag. How did I let him talk me into this? Stupid irrational vampires. She flipped over as smoothly as she could, so as not to wake the stupid, sneaky vampire, and huddled her body as far as she could into the side.
Good. This is good. No more vampire touching.
Spike shifted in his sleep.
...And the vampire touching's back.
Buffy forced herself further into the zipper, scootching against the metal in an attempt to escape Spike's seemingly neverending draping. There was a catching sensation near her knee, and she felt the wet reopening of her scab against the metal teeth of the zipper. In seconds, drips were hitting her other shin, tickling lightly. She squirmed.
Great. Now I've got insomnia, itching, and bloodstains. Eahh...! The itching at the now welling wound wasn't getting any less noticeable. She raised her leg and rubbed it against the interior of the sleeping bag. That worked for a few seconds, but without something to staunch the flow, the blood just kept coming. There was already an unpleasant sticky wet area in the fabric around her legs, and it was itching again!
With some maneuvering, Buffy managed to get her hand down on her knee, and pressed against the wound for a while, waiting for the bleeding to stop. Good plan, except it entailed her backing up against Spike, who promptly wrapped an arm around her and snuggled closer.
"Uh..." Buffy stilled, waiting to see if he was going to wake up, but the vampire just nuzzled at her neck a bit before settling back down. "...Okay, this is fun," she muttered. "Cuddling with the bloodthirsty demon on the floor of the sound booth. My life is truly bliss." She pulled her hand off her knee and felt a splash of relief when the itchy, drippy feeling didn't return. The bleeding had stopped.
And she was still being spoon-hugged. By Spike. She brought her hand up tentatively, not wanting to wake him, and pulled lightly on his arm, hoping he'd get the hint and do more of that tossing and turning he'd been doing all night, this time away from her.
He growled.
And then he licked her.
"Ah, ah, okay, okay, this is weird." Buffy squinched her eyes shut as Spike's tongue rubbed at her throat. "Ehh... Not fun, not fun, not fun. Eh!" God, is he dreaming? If he starts moaning... The ...licking, didn't seem to be migrating to any other spot; he was just focusing hard, business like licks on her. . . Throat.
She glanced down at her own hand, still on his arm. Even in the dark, she could see the stain of her own blood smeared on it.
There was another growl, and a murmured, "...Slayer..." by her ear.
Great. I'm providing props while he fantasizes about killing me.
Buffy shifted a little. Spike kept nuzzling at her neck.
If he breaks the skin, I'm waking him up, she decided. I'm too tired to deal with this now...
Another hour or so later, Spike drifted awake to find the Slayer wrapped
in his arms.
Well, he thought, taking inventory of the position. Isn't this interesting...
He tucked his head back against her shoulder and went back to sleep.
Spike awoke to a kick in the gut, then swearing, and a scream.
"Wha' the--" he said groggily, trying to get his bearings. He was on a floor, in a thrashing sleeping bag? Oh right. Studio.
"Get off! Get off!"
"Oh, shit! Sorry, sorry!" The shouting to his immediate left, ie, into his left ear, served to bring the vampire back from the realm of Morphius lightening quick. He actually opened his eyes.
When he'd gone to bed, he'd been in a sleeping bag with the Slayer.
Now, he was in a sleeping bag with the Slayer and a slightly puffy young man with sideburns. Buffy was propped up on her elbows, gasping and staring at the young man sprawled across the top of the sleeping bag. She'd obviously enjoyed the same unpleasant awakening Spike had. The whelp turned to look at the vampire. He seemed a little dazed.
"Mornin', mate," Spike drawled. "Think you're gonna get up sometime?"
As if suddenly realizing he was still in the sleeping bag with the couple, the hapless young man scrambled up, succeeding in kneeing Spike in the thigh. Spike grunted in protest.
"Christ, guys, I am so sorry. Are you okay?"
Spike glanced over at Buffy, who seemed to be getting her breath back. He smiled up at the panicking kid he dearly wished to eviscerate. "We're dandy."
The guy shook his head and leaned against one of the soundboards. He was wearing khakis and a green polo shirt sporting the studio's emblem.
"Wow. Sorry. I totally forgot you two were gonna be here today. Tara's friends, right? I'm Jeff."
Buffy finally recovered from the shock of waking to someone tripping and falling on you, and glanced at Spike. He seemed disoriented and slightly homicidal. She looked back up at the portly sound guy.
"It's .painful to meet you, Jeff. I'm Buffy, and this is Spike." She whapped
exhibit A in the chest. Bare chest, she couldn't help but be reminded.
She shrugged it off. "Thanks for letting us, uh, camp."
Jeff shrugged off the thanks. "No problem. Glad I could help. I know what it's like to have allergies, man," he comiserated with a slightly confused Spike. "Peanuts are enough of a hassle. I can't imagine not being able to go in sunlight."
Realization dawned in Spike's head. "Oh. Right. Sun allergy," he nodded. "Yeah, that's a bitch, right enough."
"Yeah, uh huh," Jeff nodded. He realized the two blondes were still in the sleeping bag. Probably meant they weren't wearing much. "Look, sorry again. I'm just gonna make myself scarce while you two get dressed and whatever. I need to start setting up about eight thirty."
Buffy nodded. "Right. We'll make like trees before then. Oh, hey, can we leave our luggage in here..?"
"No prob," Jeff said, opening the door to make a discreet exit. "And good luck on the show today!"
He left and Buffy beamed after him. "Right!" She rolled her eyes and landed on Spike. "So. Sleep well?"
"Like a rock. That has nice dreams."
Buffy narrowed her eyes at his smug expression, remembering the neck incident the last night. 'Nice dreams' for him probably translated to chaos, mayhem, kill, kill, kill. Mumbling my name. That bastard.
Oh wait, he's evil; it's allowed.
"Right... Good for you." She hastened to unzip the sleeping bag, and escape Spike's eerily relaxed mood. She hopped up and began pulling things out of her bag for as discreet a bathroom trip as possible.
"Buffy-- Bloody hell, your legs!"
"Huh?" Buffy looked down. "Oh, dammit!" How attractive. I didn't realize it had oozed so much.
"Buffy... There's blood all over your legs." He sounded a little dazed.
"A razor attacked me." He was still staring blankly at her crusty disgusting legs. "Don't get too excited. I didn't bleed out."
"Wha...? ...Oh! Right. Uh, good. You'd, ah, better go get changed, Slayer."
Buffy watched him for a second. "Yeah..." she said slowly. "I'll be right back."
Spike looked up at her face and smiled at her. "We're gonna have some fun, now, luv."
****
"Welcome to the New New Newlywed Game, where couples see how well they really know each other by responding to a series of questions, predicting their spouse's answer! Lets meet our eight contestants."
John Cramer took over as the screens on either side of the set zoomed in on the first couple. "First, we have Kathy and Matt Whiteside, of Galesburg, Illinois. She was so excited about the wedding, she forgot her dress when they flew home for the ceremony! They had to postpone for a day, while a neighbor had it shipped."
There was a smattering of laughter. The plump, polyester-clad woman playfully slapped her mustached husband on the arm, laughing along with the audience.
"Next are Allison and Bob Mitchell of Alamogordo, New Mexico. They met
at a monster truck rally! He had gone to see the trucks ...and she had
gone to pick up guys!"
,
More half-hearted applause from the audience. The buck-toothed blonde
in plaid threw an arm over his wife's shoulders, smiling proudly.
"Sarah and Tom Johnson hail from Wichita, Kansas. They both enjoy hiking --which came in handy after their bus tour accidently left them in the smoky mountains on their honeymoon, four miles from their hotel!"
The matching redheads both smiled stiffly as the crowd laughed.
The camera shifted to the last couple, two slender blondes sitting as far apart as the loveseat would allow.
"Buffy and Spike Sangue live in Sunnydale, California. Buffy's mother wasn't initially happy about Spike's intentions towards her daughter; the first time they met, she hit him over the head with an axe!"
The crowd silently repeated the sentence to itself. Except for two young wiccans towards the middle, who were laughing hysterically. Buffy glared at her friends.
"They think they're soo funny," she hissed at Spike. "Wait till I get off national television, they'll get a laugh."
"Now now pet. You can't kill your friends. That would be wrong."
"And now your host, Boooob Eubanks!"
Everyone clapped, including Willow and Tara, as the row of contestant booths swung out to make an avenue down the middle, and Bob Eubanks, not looking a day over 65, trotted out onto stage.
He stopped dead center, and smiled at the still cheering crowd.
"Welcome to the New New Newlywed Game. Someone once asked, how come at weddings the bride looks stunning and the groom looks stunned? We'll find out that answer and many more when we start our game right after this."
*******
[Insert Shampoo Here]
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