Usual disclaimers apply. I'm doing something slightly different this time because refuses to post my lines that break story perspective up. Let me know if it works/doesn't work, etc. Also, this was a bit rushed, so let me know if there are any glaring mistakes that need to be corrected. Thanks!
Chapter 9
Dinner was good. Not great, like Buffy expected given the rest of the manor, but just good. Guess they ran out of money before they hired a kitchen staff, Buffy thought cattily. Eamon sat at the head of the table like a king holding court. His wife, the mysterious Lady Ophelia had yet to make an appearance.
"She's probably just a figment of the fruity guy's imagination," Buffy said, a little louder than she intended.
"What's that?" Joyce asked.
"Nothing," Buffy said irritably. She was ready for dinner to be over about twenty minutes ago. Now it just seemed to drag on forever, people still talking and drinking. In fact, Joyce seemed to be slightly snookered herself. She was cheerfully talking about art with anybody who dared listen.
"Are we done yet?" Buffy whined to nobody in particular.
Willow shot Buffy a sympathetic look. She'd seen Spike and his friend earlier, mingling on the floor. Of course, she was with Oz at the time, so everything else seemed fuzzy. Ahh, Oz. He's so cute! Her inner voice screamed. And he's in a band, granted it's a weird sounding punk band, but a band. I'm like a band-aid! She sighed.
Buffy gave Willow a strange look. She's sighing again. What's up with that? Is she bored like me? I'm bored. Stiff as a board. Yup, I'm a bored. Stiff, hey that kinda, sounds like Spike. Ohh, stiff Spike. Wait, getting a little off-track there. Look, mirrors. Pretty. Like Spike. Damn, no thinking about him. Until later, when much thinking will be done. Or, not a lot of the thinking thinking, more of the feeling thinking. I hope. Wait a minute…is that girl hitting on Spike?
Buffy's thought train was derailed when she caught the reflection of a willowy-looking brunette draping her arms around Spike's shoulders. That little skank!
Buffy stood up and straightened herself to full form. Which was about 5'5 including the heels. Not that formidable, but then Buffy knew that her slight appearance was her greatest weapon. Nobody suspected that she was a black-belt who could kick ass without breaking a sweat. That particular skill had come in handy on several occasions.
Buffy took a deep breath and marched down to where Spike and Xander were sitting. She reached past the gothic ho and tapped Spike on the shoulder. "Hey. Whatcha doin'?"
Spike did a perfect water spit-take onto Xander's face. "'Ello pet. Enjoying yourself?" He tried to untangle himself from the girl's arms without much success.
"Well, I was," Buffy said. "But it looks like you're having more fun. Care to introduce me?"
"Uh. Well, you see pet, uh.." Spike trailed off looking to Xander for help. Xander just smiled and shrugged. You're on your own, he mouthed.
Meanwhile Buffy had moved past Spike and was currently introducing herself. "Hi. I don't think we met earlier. I'm Buffy." She stuck her hand out.
"Drusilla," came the reply. She cast a withering look at Buffy's hand and sniffed. Slowly Buffy withdrew it.
"Uh, well, nice to meet you," Buffy said.
Drusilla just nodded. She reached down and whispered something in Spike's ear and Buffy swore she saw her tongue flick out. Having seen enough, Buffy abruptly spun around and walked away.
Stupid fucking boys, she thought. All the same. I don't know why I even bothered. Why didn't I learn from Angel? Or Riley? Does the name poopy Parker ring a bell? Stupid Buffy, stupid, stupid, stupid. On her third stupid, Buffy tripped and fell. She heard snickers all around her. That, combined with Spike's behavior made tears spring to her eyes. I'm outta here.
Buffy stood up and ran toward the exit. Out of her periphery she saw a flash of white, but she didn't stop. She ran up the stairs and into her room, slamming the door behind her. She threw herself down on her bed, furiously blinking back tears. No way was she going to give in to them. He's not worth it anyway.
After a few moments, Buffy composed herself. Standing tall as possible since she traded her heels in for comfy strappy sandals, Buffy made her way back down to the dinning room. Spike thinks he's so fucking great? Not even. I'll show him.
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Spike sighed and made his way back the staircase. He'd tried to catch Buffy when she ran away but, damn, she was fast. He called out her name, but she didn't even stop. Not that he blamed her; he'd acted like a right git.
"Stupid bugger," he muttered to himself. Inside the dinning room, Eamon was giving the instructions of how to play the game. Spike thought about trying to go after Buffy but he didn't know what room she was in. Hell, he didn't even know what floor she was on. But, he thought to himself, she had to come with someone right? Like the birds from the club and the mall perhaps? Maybe Xander has a use after all.
Plan in mind, Spike strode back into the dinning room. A few minutes later, Buffy walked in behind him. Spike gave thanks to whatever God had listened to his prayers and walked over to her.
"Pet, about earlier…" he started. Buffy didn't give him the chance to finish. She immediately moved away from him. Spike followed her and again tried to apologize for his behavior and again, Buffy deliberately walked away.
"This is getting ridiculous," he muttered.
The woman standing next to him gave him a dirty look. "Shh."
Spike mouthed sorry and then flipped her the bird when she looked away. Unfortunately she was looking into the mirror and caught Spike in the act. The woman promptly walked up to Spike and dumped the entire contents of her glass onto his head.
Several people in the room turned to watch the spectacle and began to snicker at Spike's predicament. Among them were Buffy and Xander. Spike blushed bright red and shuffled out of the room.
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Eamon cleared his throat. "If we're quite finished here, I'll bid everyone a good night. Remember, from this point forward, trust no one." Eamon turned and strode out of the room.
"Well, that was just weird," Buffy muttered. She found Willow and Anya and quickly caught up on the rules. They were simple: someone would "die" and then clues would be hidden around the manor. The guests were responsible for finding the clues and putting together who killed the victim and why. The entire staff was suspects and could leave false clues for the guests as well. On Sunday, the guest who successfully named the culprit and motive won the prize money of 1,000.
"So, we should all split up and look for clues," Willow said excitedly. She was practically bouncing up and down.
"Yes, I'm all for splitting up," Anya said, eyeballing Xander.
Buffy sighed. "Okay, we'll meet in the room tonight and go over everything we found, okay?"
"Okay," Willow and Anya chirped, walking away. Oz sidled up next to Willow and they left the dinning room together. Anya, meanwhile, cornered Xander and they were quietly talking by the mirrors. Even Joyce had struck up a conversation with a tweed covered Giles.
Buffy, feeling noticeably left out, left the dinning room to explore the manor. She purposefully avoided Spike and indeed found herself in the ballroom. A large grand piano sat on a riser in a far corner and an elaborate bar was opposite it. Table with chairs dotted the enormous room. Again, one wall was covered in mirrors.
"I'm beginning to see a theme here," Buffy muttered to herself.
She walked over and sat on the piano bench. Soft classical music began to play. Buffy started, and then realized that the piano was on a timer. The keys moved by themselves, and a ghostly waltz filled the room. The haunting strains reminded Buffy of tears.
Buffy closed her eyes and began to sway to the music. She opened her eyes and made sure nobody was in the room. Then, she stood up and began to dance. In her minds eye there was a whole host of people in the room. Dressed in corsets, hoop skirts and ruffled shirts, they dipped and twirled around the room in time to the beautiful music. And her partner, no matter how had she tried to deny it, had bleach blond hair and piercing blue eyes.
Buffy was so caught up with her fantasy partner that she didn't realize she had company until arms encircled her body. Her eyes snapped open and she instinctually went into combat mode. She grabbed the offending arm and twisted it around, taking the person attached to it to the floor. Her foot crashed down onto the intruder's back.
"Oi! Pet, it's me, Spike!" Spike yelled from his position on the floor. He'd been impressed by her dancing and now was positively turned on her by her fighting.
Her breath slowed and Buffy relinquished Spike's arm. "Sorry. Habit."
Spike stood up and rolled his shoulder. "That's quite a habit. How long have you been studying?"
Buffy shrugged, annoyed that her dancing fantasy was interrupted and that Spike caught her without her defenses. "Awhile. What do you want?"
Spike lifted a shoulder. "Wanted to talk. Saw you duck in here, thought I could catch you and apologize for my atrocious behavior. I'm really sorry Buffy."
His eyes begged for her to believe him, and Buffy felt herself melt. After all, life's too short. She smiled. "'S okay. I'm over it. Found any clues yet?"
Spike shook his head. "Too busy changing my shirt."
Buffy laughed. "You got what you deserved."
Spike inclined his head. "I know. Not enough connections between my brain and my body. It's been a problem for years."
Buffy smiled. "I can see that." Silence lapsed between them.
Spike finally broke the silence and offered a hand. "Want to finish that dance?"
Buffy's smile widened as she put her hand in his. They walked to the piano and selected another song. Taking the classical dancer pose, the two began to move.
As they danced, Spike kept and eye on the mirror. It was erotic and innocent all at once. They moved so well together it felt like they were one half of the same whole. Comfortable as a couple married for 50 years, yet as nervous as two virgins on a first date. He led and she anticipated perfectly.
At the end of the waltz, Spike finished with a dip. As he slowly brought Buffy back up, he gave into temptation and gently kissed her lips.
Another song began, this one a frantic tempo. As the song progressed, the kiss deepened. The swells and beats throbbed through the room and vibratedthrough in Buffy's body. Buffy's focus narrowed from the music to Spike's lips. The soft feel of them moving on her own, the movement of his tongue, in and out, in and out of her mouth. The arrogance of his thrusts, the feeling of his fingers tightening on her own. Her breath gone, Buffy continued to kiss Spike, adding her teeth into the mix. She nipped at his lips, and then soothed them with her own. She tangled her tongue with his, then shyly hid it in the recess of her mouth, only to bring it out and battle against his when he penetrated her mouth's surface.
Finally, the two broke apart. Buffy's face was flushed and Spike's chest was heaving with exertion. Not from the simple dance, but from the inner battle raging in his body. The need rose like a beast without control. The need to possess her body, the need to feel skin against skin. To hear her moan and cry out, to whimper at his touch and scream out her release. It would be so good. Spike thought. We would be so good together.
Buffy's thoughts were running directly parallel to Spike's. She wanted to see him at the moment of surrender, right before he fell off the precipice of pleasure. To watch as his body trembled in respite and his chest panted in exhaustion. It would be so good, she thought.
But neither of them made the first move. Although the electricity sizzled and the temperature soared, both regained composure. Spike planted a kiss on Buffy's nose, ignoring the tightening of his pants. Buffy giggled and kissed Spike's cheek, not paying any attention to the heat at the apex of her thighs.
"Want to go find some clues?" she asked.
"Sounds like a plan," Spike replied. They left the ballroom hand-in-hand, both supremely pleased when the other didn't pull away.
