Mortal Allies Series
Episode 5
War and Roses
By: Passion4Spike
Chapter 28: Adulting
Chapter Notes:
Thanks to all of you amazing readers and commenters! You are absolutely the best!
Thanks also to MissLuci for making this chapter even hotter, and catching my mistakes. Any remaining errors are from my last minute fiddling. I found some repeated sentences on my final review... not sure how that happened, but hopefully I found & fixed them all.
-X-
At an intersection not far from the school, Buffy made to turn one way while Spike tugged her the other, making their flight from the school, the Hellmouth, and the Watchers, come to a jerking halt at the corner.
"The caves are this way," she reminded him, pointing to her left.
"Not going on that inane mission just yet," Spike countered. "Need t' have a bit of talk... without your sodding Watcher about," he continued, pulling her to the right. "Yer mum's gone for the night?"
Buffy's heart was in her throat again, her guilt and remorse reclogging her lungs, as the bottom of her stomach dropped out. 'Need to talk'... never good. She felt like she'd been on the wildest rollercoaster in the universe over the last twenty-four hours. From blissfully happy to hellishly miserable, to heart-stoppingly hopeful, to stomach-churningly frightened, and then back to hopeful and blissful, and now barreling back down into the pits of despair.
"Yeah," she choked out, trying not to crash and burn as the coaster roared toward disaster. Maybe he didn't forgive her after all... maybe he never would. 'Need to talk'... never, ever good.
Her anxiety over the talk began to consume her. She swallowed hard, trying to keep the contents of her nervous stomach from attempting an escape as Spike began striding purposely toward Revello. With their hands still clasped, he pulled Buffy along behind him on shaky legs. The next few minutes were filled with an oppressive silence, which continued as they plodded up the porch steps and into the house. As soon as the door closed behind Buffy, Spike whirled to face her.
Buffy stepped back nervously, bumping against the door, still unable to speak, tears on the verge of engulfing her.
"I love you," Spike stated emphatically, stepping up close to her, propping his hands on either side of her head, trapping her in place.
Buffy tried to speak, but just a squeak came out. She swallowed and cleared her throat and tried again, "I love you, too." It was still a terrified rasp.
He blinked several times, and she could see her own fear reflected in his shining eyes. "Broke your promise to me. Promised forever, didn't we? Don't know how that new math bollocks works, but I do know 'forever' is bloody well more than a weekend."
She nodded forlornly and dropped her gaze, looking down at her hands, which were pressed against her roiling stomach. "I'm sorry. I was trying... I was scared, Spike, the dream, it... I was trying to do the right thing. Trying to save you. Trying to be... the Slayer." She looked up at him, her tears spilling over. "I'm not sure how to be the Slayer and keep you safe, too."
"Not moth-eaten geriatric. Can take care of m'self... can help you with the slaying, watch your back. Think I proved that more than once."
She nodded jerkily. "You don't need to prove it, I know... I know better than anyone what you can do, how you can fight. I just... I can't bear to see you hurt because of me... again. Let alone dusted. Spike, I don't know if I could stand it if something happened..." She choked on a sob, the rest of the words unsaid. She clamped her eyes closed, spilling more tears down her cheeks in a flood of guilt.
Spike took in a deep breath and sighed it out, pulling her into a hug. She collapsed against him, wrapping her arms around him tightly.
"So, you thought it'd be better to give up on love than risk losing me? Here's the thing, pet. People die... even just regular people with no dangerous Calling to be carrying on with. Your mates will die... your Watcher, your mum... even I might dust one day..."
Buffy let out a pained wail that was buried against his chest.
"But you can't cut everyone you love out of your life, box up your heart, not let yourself feel or love or enjoy every sodding moment until that happens. That's no life for anyone, and it's no life for a Slayer." He pushed her back, hands gripping her shoulders, and ducked his head to look into her eyes. "I love you, Buffy. I'd rather spend a year at your side than a hundred with anyone else. Hope you feel the same..."
Her throat was impossibly choked with emotion as she met his entreating gaze. She nodded again, tears streaming down her cheeks each time she blinked. Finally, after swallowing several times, she croaked, "I do."
Spike slid his hands up to cup her face, his thumbs wiping at the dampness on her heated skin, his fingers gliding through her silky hair. His forehead tilted down to rest against hers. "It's settled then," he breathed against her lips. "Whatever comes, we'll face it together."
"A-Are you sure you want... I mean... can you ever really forgive me? The things I said..."
"Oh, my dotty Slayer," Spike sighed. "Much as it hurt me, know it hurt you just as much. Know it came from a place 'o love... and your infuriating need t' protect the whole sodding world."
"That's kind of my job," Buffy reminded him softly.
"I'm not one o' your Slayerettes," he pointed out, pulling back to look into her eyes. "Don't need to be mollycoddled. Just want t' be at your side, yeah?"
She blinked the tears away and nodded, chewing her bottom lip. "I know... I just, the dream..."
"Fuck's sake, pet, don't believe everything the bloody Druid says. Think we proved tonight, her visions aren't all set in stone. Gotta take it like they do in Margaritaville, with a whole bloody shaker o' salt."
Buffy's lips drew into a ragged smile, and she nodded again. "How... how did you know about the lighter?"
Spike's serious expression shifted into something more smirky and Spike-like. "Could smell the butane."
Buffy rolled her eyes.
"That's when I knew... knew no matter what came outta your mouth, no matter what that sodding note said, that you still loved me."
"Because of a lighter?" she scoffed.
"Because of my bloody lighter. You nicked it at the hotel, had it tucked up next to you so you could feel it, take somethin' of mine with you wherever you go, yeah?"
Buffy nodded and the ghost of a grin crept onto her face. He really did know her so well.
"Not just that... didn't revoke my invite, kept the postcards and the photos in your room, took that ragged plushy with ya, even though you left your expensive shampoos and two pairs of strappy sandals. But the lighter clenched it."
Buffy looked down again, unable to meet his eyes. "It's scary…"
"What's that, kitten?"
"How easily you figured that out. I thought I was being all… I don't know, stealthy and unreadable, but you saw through all of it. Of course, you're right. I wanted something of yours... to remember you."
"Don't need it now, do you? Got me to remember me by."
Another affirmative shake of her head. "Spike?" she began tentatively, glancing up at him. "Did you... I mean... after I left... I know you were uber-angry and... I mean, did you... with anyone..."
Spike furrowed his brows, trying to follow her disjointed words, then his face cleared, and he shook his head. "Think another woman could mean anything to me, pet? You're the only one for me, Buffy. Why I came back, innit? No point o' carrying on without you. Was gonna have you make good on your threat... stake me, put me outta my misery."
Buffy blinked, sending more tears cascading down her cheeks even as she wiped at them with her fingers, trying to stem the flow. "I thought you might... might want someone... with, uh, fewer cherries to, um, de-cherry. Someone with more... enough-ness."
Spike snorted a derisive laugh. "Told ya before, luv. Looking forward t' devouring every cherry ya got. Don't want anyone but you, Buffy. You're the sunrise on my face after a lifetime spent in darkness. You're all I'll ever need, ever want; only woman I'll ever love."
Buffy felt a weight lift off her shoulders and thought she might float away if Spike's hands weren't still gripping her.
"You too... with the love and the want... only you, Spike."
His head tilted, his eyes shining with awe, but tinged with confusion too. "Were worried I'd go shag the first girl that crossed m' path, but weren't worried I'd kill 'er?"
Buffy's brows furrowed as she shook her head. "It never... I never even thought of that," she admitted. "You said you wouldn't... no matter what. You'd promised, and I... I never doubted, it didn't even cross my mind that you'd kill anyone." She suddenly looked worried, searching his eyes. "I wasn't wrong, was I?"
He gave her a reassuring smile. "Not wrong, luv. Can't go back, can I? Not after you let me bask in your light... in your love."
Spike's mouth touched hers, a kiss as soft as butterfly wings skimming over her tear-stained lips. "Love you," he murmured, before deepening the kiss, swallowing Buffy's reply, drinking down her own declaration of love, feeling the words trickle down like warm, honeyed whiskey to surround his heart.
He swept her up into his arms and carried her upstairs, their lips and teeth and tongues dancing greedily against each other. He hesitated at the top of the stairs, the guest room or...
"My room," Buffy invited, making Spike's heart warm even more.
Without words, he set her on her feet next to the bed and began to peel her clothes away. She quivered noticeably as he unbuttoned her shirt, touching cool kisses to each new swath of heated skin that he revealed. Her collarbone, breastbone, and trembling stomach each received feather-light kisses, then her shirt slid off her shoulders and onto the floor. She didn't move as his mouth roamed back up to suckle her nipples through her lacy bra, only letting her head fall back in pleasure as he made love to her breasts with his fingers and mouth, sending fiery chills skittering through her body.
The silence was only broken by Buffy's needful moan as Spike unhooked her bra and let it fall to the floor with her shirt. Then his hands slipped down along the side of her body to the waistband of her trousers, his fingertips dancing along the quivering skin of her stomach to the snap. She was sure she would melt into a puddle of goo before he even got her undressed at this rate, but the melting was too delicious to do more than sink into it.
More brushes of soft, cool lips to trembling, hot skin traveled down over her hipbones, across her thighs, and alongside her knees until her pants were in a heap on the floor, leaving her shoes trapped inside the legs as she pulled her feet free.
When all that remained were her panties, Spike's ability to remain silent shattered. Kneeling before her, his hands tracing the shapely line of her golden legs, he began to whisper endearments and praise, words of love interspersed in a rumbling discourse on how gloriously beautiful she was, and how sodding much he wanted her, not just now, not just today, but tomorrow, and for all of their tomorrows.
His mouth closed over the damp fabric covering her mound, his tongue lashing out tentatively, tasting her desire through the delicate lace. Then his fingers ghosted beneath, delving between her sodden folds, making her hips jerk as he found her clit, so slick and wet for him. "Never thought I'd see heaven, but here I am. You're my heaven, Buffy. My everything," he murmured against her as she braced her hands on his shoulders, not trusting her legs to hold her much longer as he teased her to the brink of her own heaven. "God, I love you. Drowning in you, Summers... never want t' be saved, just want t' fall deeper into you every sodding day."
"Love you, baby... love you so much," she rasped, her voice wavering with love and desire. She cupped his face and tugged gently, urging him to stand. As he did, his hands and lips left trails of gooseflesh across her shivering body.
Then Buffy took her turn, first silencing him with a tender, almost chaste kiss, and a soft, "Shhh..." as she slid his duster off his shoulders.
Spike's eyes seemed lit with a blue flame in the shadowy room, the only illumination coming from her alarm clock, which silently counted off the long, blissful minutes as she subjected him to the same rapturous torture, undressing him slowly, covering his smooth, silken skin with warm, wet kisses, licks, and nibbles. Tasting every inch of him, from the sculpted hills and valleys of his sixpack up to his small, hard nipples, over the curving muscles of his shoulders, to the bobbing bulge of his Adam's apple, as she lifted his tee up and off.
Her fingers touched his face reverently, tracing his strong jaw, across the deep hollows of his cheeks, then to the sharp slashes of his cheekbones. Her eyes followed her fingertips up, her gaze locking on his as her hands glided to his brow, tracing the jagged scar over his left eye.
"You're so pretty," she breathed, pressing her hot breasts against his cool chest as she let herself get lost in his eyes.
"Oi!" he protested, though it was halfhearted.
"It's a very manly pretty," she assured him with a smile. "A jaw that can take a punch, but soft, full lips that just beg to be kissed," she whispered, leaning in to do just that, feeling herself melting again as their lips touched ever so gently. She pulled back and let her eyes wander over his face again. "Cheekbones that any supermodel would sell her soul for, and battle scars that Ares would be proud of. And your eyes... so many flavors of blue in their depths, and I love them all. I love you, my beautiful warrior."
Buffy graced him with another slow, sweet kiss, before returning to her mission, trailing her hands down his firm chest, over his quivering abs, to his belt, which fell open with a clatter of the buckle, then to his jeans, the button slipping easily from the hole, the zipper sliding down carefully, freeing his raging erection from the confines of denim.
Buffy knelt as she unlaced his boots, then pressed his jeans down his legs, helping him step out of both, his cock bobbing with the movement, leaving dabs of precum glistening on his stomach. Still kneeling, Buffy gently cupped his balls with her hot hand, making Spike groan in pleasure, then leisurely flicked her tongue up from the base of his cock to the tip, making him curse reverently.
Before she could go further, Spike gripped her shoulders and pulled her to her feet, much as she'd done him. They moved together then, sinking onto the bed as one, another graceful dance, this one of love rather than death, but just as perfectly matched. Sunshine met moonbeams, warm flesh met cool, gold and silver entwined, joined, melted, and fused into a sparking pool of electrum.
"Spike..."
"Buffy..."
Their voices were reverent and loving, a near-silent prayer in the electrically charged air as he pressed inside her, wrapped in her legs and arms, hearts floating in clouds of glittering love. They moved together, ebbing and flowing, rising and falling, giving and taking. Gasps and moans drifted dreamily up to heaven, and they followed—hearts, bodies, and minds being carried aloft into the fog of rapture.
They kissed and nibbled, their hands stroked and caressed, and their voices wove lovingly around each other with adoring words of pleasure and awe and promises. Promises of forever.
The bedside clock measured the ticking of the minutes and then hours, but the lovers barely noticed as they peaked and drifted, then peaked again, never parting, consummating the vow to face whatever comes together in their own magical forever, be it for a day, a year, a century, or a millennium.
-X-
Spike slipped from Buffy's side, from her bed, leaving her to her dreams. Though he was sure there was nothing to be found in the caves, he still felt the need to complete the mission which he'd distracted the Slayer from. And they'd left the mutt with the Watcher. Not fair to make the hound spend the whole night right over the Hellmouth. Spike knew how the power of it rasped against his skin and grated at his bones, and was sure the dog felt it, as well.
He dressed in his room—the guest room—and wrote Buffy a short note, then left it with the Rum Tum Tugger plushy in the bed next to her.
"Where are you going?" she slurred drowsily just as Spike had stepped out of the room for the second time.
He returned to her and touched a soft, cool kiss on her forehead. "Gotta fetch the mangy mutt home."
"Oh... Spike. I forgot," she murmured, making to rise.
"I've got it, luv," he assured her.
"But..."
"You sleep, pet," he encouraged softly, reaching over and grabbing the soft toy from the other side of the bed. He pressed it against her chest, pushing her back down onto the pillow.
Buffy sighed, wrapping her arms around the furry cat, and settled back drowsily.
"Won't be but a tick. Get some kip. I'll be here when you wake," he whispered, though from her breathing and steady heartrate, she'd already fallen back into dreamland.
"Love you, Buffy. Always, forever," he murmured into her hair before slipping silently from the house.
-X-
Spike found the Watcher in the school library, sleeping the sleep of the utterly knackered, head pillowed on a stack of musty tomes at the research table. At his feet, the dog stirred, looking up at the vampire as he entered. Giles appeared to have dismissed the rest of the rabble, though, as no other heartbeats met the vampire's ears as he entered, and Angel's telltale scent of hair gel had nearly faded. Spike patted the dog's head then waved a sprig of lavender beneath the man's nose, making Giles snort and rub his hand across his lip a few times before coming fully awake with a start of surprise.
"Spike," he croaked, his vocal cords gravelly from sleep.
Spike dropped the bit of dried flower onto the books in front of the man. "All that was left in the caves," he explained, jutting his chin at the aromatic herb.
Giles blinked, straightening his glasses, then looking at his watch. "It's been five hours."
Spike shrugged and plonked down in the chair opposite. "Had some other things that needed tending to."
"You'd promised pizza," Giles reminded him.
"Wasn't me. Need t' speak to the Slayer 'bout that."
The older man looked at the doors. "Will she be joining us?"
"Not t'night. Was knackered, sent her off to bed."
The Watcher gave him a level look, which Spike met with a steady gaze. "I see," the Watcher said finally, removing his glasses and rubbing the sleep from his eyes, yawning widely. "I take it you did not encounter any more of the Sisterhood?"
"Nowt but smelly flowers and dank caves."
Giles nodded and slipped his glasses back on. "Very good. I believe the crisis has been averted... again." He began to stand up, but Spike stopped him, reaching across the table, and placing a hand on his arm.
"Need t' have a word, Rupert."
The older man sighed and sank back down into the chair. "Regarding?"
"Coupl'a things. What do ya know about blood bonds... about breaking them?"
Giles arched brow at the vampire, but Spike provided no further information. "If they are freely given, they cannot be broken unless one of the parties dies. Forced bonds are different, and can be broken with certain magicks."
"What about... trickery... not quite understanding what you were vowing to?"
The former Watcher shook his head. "Trickery is expected... double meanings are often employed in such agreements. It's a case of caveat emptor, I'm afraid."
Spike nodded solemnly, his lips pursed in thought.
"Might this have something to do with the, err... Druids?" Giles asked perceptively.
The vampire's eyes shot up to meet his. "Not my secret t' tell."
Giles sighed. "I see," he said dourly. "Is she in danger?"
Spike shrugged. "She didn't swear t' anything she wouldn't do in the normal course. Seems to have gained an extra prognostication system, though the warnings are a bit... unreliable."
"Is that how she came to know of this latest threat?"
"Appears so."
"So, at least some parts of the warnings were accurate and helpful," Giles reflected.
Spike nodded grudgingly, though his expression was less than pleased. He changed the subject, "Understand you've gathered up some right powerful knickknacks from these Jhe birds. What are ya planning on doing with 'em?"
The man sighed and shook his head. "Clearly, we need to find a safe location to secure them, so they don't fall into the wrong hands again."
Spike's brows went up. "Not thinking of givin' 'em to the Council o' Wankers, then?"
"I rather think they may not be the most trustworthy keepers of powerful artifacts. While they are certainly dedicated to keeping back the hordes of hell, their methods are a bit... suspect. Wouldn't you agree?"
The surprised expression on Spike's face didn't fade. He'd expected to have to make that very argument to the former Watcher. "You're asking my opinion?"
"Actually, I was speaking to the dog."
"Ha-bloody-ha. Need to come to an understanding, you and me, cos as you may have sussed out, I'm not gonna be buggering off anytime soon."
Giles rolled his eyes, then focused back on the vampire. "To be frank, I still feel you are not good enough for Buffy..."
Spike made a strange sound that seemed to be half derision and half agreement.
"That said, you have demonstrated your ability and willingness to put yourself in harm's way to protect her and those she cares about, and I believe you do care for her, and that she feels likewise about you. It seems the Council doctrines regarding soulless vampires and their inability to love or act selflessly are mistaken."
"Deliberate, flat-out lies, ya mean," Spike corrected.
"Yes, well, that seems more likely," the Watcher agreed gloomily as he stood up stiffly and made his way behind the checkout counter, coming out with a bottle of Glenfiddich and two tumblers.
Spike rose and followed him. "I'll protect her with everything I have, down to my last spark of life, my last drop o' blood."
Giles looked up at him as he opened the bottle. "As would I."
The two men held each other's gaze for a long moment, before Giles looked down and poured a generous helping of the whisky into each glass. "To keeping her safe," he toasted, raising one of the glasses.
"If she'll bloody well let us," Spike added, raising the other glass, and clinking it against Giles'.
The two men mirrored each other's expressions with rueful smiles as they finished the toast to the stubborn, strong, wonderful woman they both loved by taking healthy gulps of the liquid, letting it burn the vow down into their cores.
-X-
The dog circled three times before plopping down in his bed in the corner of Buffy's room, watching as his namesake disrobed, leaving his clothes in a pile on the floor. The vampire held his unneeded breath as he slipped into bed, feeling Buffy's heat roll over him like a blast furnace beneath the covers. Spike waited a moment before sliding over against her, expecting some protest from the hound, but all he heard was a contented—or resigned—sigh from the floor. He smiled and rolled toward the small depression the Slayer made in the soft mattress, pressing his bare body against hers.
"Cold..." Buffy moaned in feeble complaint to the arms that pulled her against him.
"You can warm me, my little fireball," Spike murmured against her neck, his cool lips tickling as they moved over her skin.
Buffy had already gotten over the initial shock of his cool body against hers and only hummed her agreement as she laced her fingers in his, holding his hand cuddled along with Rum Tum Tugger against her breast.
Spike took a deep inhalation of her delicious scent, then sighed into her hair, half of him wanting to wake her and make love to her, the other half more than content to just hold her as she slept. He never thought he'd be here, in her bed, holding her like this. He wanted to do nothing but hold her every night for the rest of eternity, until the stars winked out and what remained of the sun was just a smoldering ember.
"Love you so bloody much," he whispered into the silence.
"Nuh-uh," Buffy disagreed groggily. She reached over and retrieved the postcard of the Golden Gate Bridge from the bedside table and held it up in the dark room. "Hate me with all your heart..." she quoted in a sleep-roughened rasp.
Spike smiled against her warm skin. "Hate you with all my heart 'til I dust, which won't be t'night," he confirmed.
She set the card back on the nightstand before lacing her fingers with his where they rested over the plush toy.
The rumbling purr that Buffy loved so dearly vibrated against her back and she automatically scooched back against him tighter. It made her feel safe and loved and not alone... finally not alone. Tears welled behind her closed lids when the realization hit her again at how close she'd come to losing him—to not just losing him, but tossing him away. She'd been so foolish. Thank God he was too devoted to leave, too stubborn to just do what she said, too in love to give up without a fight... literal or otherwise.
The moisture behind her lids were tears of relief. The rollercoaster had come out of the dark, forlorn tunnel and had risen back into the joyful, hopeful light. "Hate you more than anything, Spike."
-X-
The next afternoon...
"Here are your keys, Mr. Westfield, Miss Summers," the Sunnydale Savings and Loan bank manager said solicitously, handing them each a key to the safe deposit box. "Keep these in a secure location; they are difficult to replace, and you cannot access the vault without them."
"So, nothing can get into our box without the key... or both keys?" Buffy asked, eying the strange looking brass monstrosity.
"That mean I'm your key, love?" Spike murmured then yelped as Buffy pinched his thigh.
The bank manager cleared his throat and answered as if nothing untoward had happened. "Absolutely guaranteed. Since it is a jointly held box, both keys must be present. No keys, no entry," the manager assured her, his dark eyes looking like specks of coal in his round, snowman face.
"Maybe we should leave the keys in the safe deposit box... that would be the safest place. But then we can't get into it to get them in order to get in to get them..." Buffy muttered, considering. "Oh!" she brightened. "We could rent a second box and put the keys to the first box in the second box—that would keep them ultra-safe."
The balding bank manager was starting to look a little worried, like he might've let a mental patient into his safe and secure vaulted world.
Spike took Buffy by the arm and began guiding her toward the back hallway of the bank. "We'll just hide 'em in the flour jar like normal people, pet."
"The flour jar? Is that where normal people hide the keys to the end of the world?"
"Far as I know... or in the cistern."
"Sister... what sister? I don't have a sister... well, other than Dru, I guess, who is sort of a sister? But I don't think we should hide the key with her, cos..." Buffy twirled her finger at her temple. "Cuckoo. Who knows what she'd do with it."
"Not sister, cistern," Spike repeated more slowly.
Buffy scowled at him. "Speak English!"
Spike shook his head and rolled his eyes in exasperation. "The reservoir o' water atop the bloody toilet."
"Toilet? Ewww... we are not hiding anything in the toilet tank. That's... ewwww..." Buffy scrunched up her face adorably as they pushed through the 'Employee's Only' door that led to the basement. Spike had never seen any city with more sewer-accessible businesses than Sunnydale. "Besides, what if something happens to the water and it won't stop running so Mom does that weird jiggly thing with the thingy inside and the key ends up getting flushed? I am so not going after it, even with a locator spell."
He sighed. "Right—flour jar it is then."
"What about a fake rock in the flower bed? They'd have to look through all the rocks to find the right fake rock with the key in it."
Spike shrugged. "Got a fake rock?"
"No, but they sell them at the hardware store. I can write a check for it!" Buffy beamed, reaching into her purse to pull out her shiny new checks that had just come in the mail that very day, just in time to start spending her first official, adult paycheck.
Spike smiled at her, reaching into his duster pocket to touch his own newly acquired checkbook. He'd chosen a sugar skull design for his 'real' checks—the closest thing to 'evil' he could find in their catalog. They'd be mailed to Hawley Mansion within a couple of weeks; right now, he just had the starter checks... blank but for his account number.
Noticing his movement, Buffy said, "You'd think those people hadn't ever seen ten thousand dollars in cash money before."
Spike opened the door to the sewers for her and they both turned left in unspoken assent, heading for the hardware store. "Never seen anyone's eyes bug out quite that much," he agreed. "Well, no one who wasn't being strangled, least wise."
"I know you like the dealing-with-cash thing, but don't you think this is safer? And so much easier than having to go everywhere in person to pay the power bill and the water bill and stuff."
"Seen lots'a banks fail over the years," Spike observed. "But I reckon keeping a bit in there for the necessities will be alright."
Buffy nodded, slipping her hand in his as they walked down the empty tunnel. "Do you really think keeping those ancient, world-ending artifacts in a safe deposit box will make with the safe-ness?"
"You heard the bloke—no one gets in without a key. Long as we keep the keys hidden in the flour and the fake rock, be safe as houses. Most bank robbers don't bother with the vault... they just want the dosh—in and out all quick-like. And Rupert and Red put that cloaking spell on the shroud it's all wrapped in, so that'll keep anyone from finding it with magicks or knowing what's in there. Reckon it's better than dropping that rock in the flour jar, any road."
She laughed. "Especially with the flambé effect it had... not loving that in the dry goods storage."
"Keep the weevils out, I'd wager."
"Unless they're evil weevils and they use it to create a ginormous, and less jovial, Pillsbury Dough Boy to end the world kinda like the Ghostbusters did with that marshmallow guy."
"Point," he conceded, all the while wondering exactly how much fire it would take to flambé a giant pile of angry dough and if the flame was set at just the right temperature, perhaps the resulting raised and properly roasted demon dough could be salvaged into something edible. Buffy would like that, no waste, and no gooey cleanup, just a big pile of crumbs...
"So, you don't think Lydia will blab to the Council about our contraband?"
Buffy's use of the liaison's name jolted Spike from his ruminations of massive ham and cheese croissants and jumbo biscuits with ultra-large sausage patties on top. "Rupert thinks not. Reckons she's on our side." Spike shrugged as he reached for a door that read, 'Blaisdell's Hardware,' and pulled it open. Buffy preceded him into a well-lit basement. A security guard sat at a small desk near the door, his booted feet up on the desk, his chair leaning back against a stack of crates. A paperback novel covered most of his face, so it took Buffy looking twice to notice the blue spines prickling the green skin. She reached into her waistband for a weapon, but Spike stopped her.
"Brachen demon," he told her. "Peaceful."
The demon lowered the book and looked up, his red irises darting warily between the Slayer and the vampire.
"No worries..." Spike looked at the name tag on the guard's uniform, "... Dan. Slayer's just here for a fake rock."
Buffy elbowed him in the ribs. "Don't tell the demon about the fake rock!" she hissed.
"Aisle 6," Dan said, sounding bored. "Upstairs and to the right. Make sure to get one that matches the other rocks in your yard."
"We don't have any other rocks in the yard," Buffy realized. "We're gonna have to buy real rocks to go with the fake rock! Ugh... I so don't feel like lugging bags of rocks around."
"Do you need to hide whatever it is outside?" Dan asked, dropping his feet and standing up. He was surprisingly tall and broad, especially for a guy who was reading a Harlequin Romance with Fabio on the cover.
"Not especially," Spike answered.
"Heating vents," Dan suggested. "If it's small enough to fit in a fake rock, then get one of those magnetic key boxes, you know like you'd use to stick a spare key under your fender, open up a heating vent, and just stick it right to the metal ductwork."
Spike looked at Buffy. "What do ya think, luv? Easier than buying a bloody trunk full o' rocks."
"I guess..." she agreed, looking at Dan warily.
"Don't worry about Danny-boy here," Spike assured her. "Strikes me as a clever bloke. Not one t' tell tales out of school, are ya?"
Dan shrugged as he sat back down. "Get hundreds of people and not-exactly-people in here every week. I just make sure nothing walks out without a receipt. Don't pay any mind to who they are or what they buy." He picked up his bodice-ripper-romance and settled back into reading, his red eyes moving rapidly across the page. "Magnetic key hiders are in aisle 10."
-X-
"I don't think that cashier liked me writing a check for $2.78," Buffy pouted after they left the hardware store.
Spike snorted. "Could'a just pocketed the bloody thing. Danny-boy didn't even ask t' see the sodding receipt."
"But then I wouldn't have been able to write my very first check," Buffy gushed as they walked. "Oh, also, stealing is wrong," she added as an afterthought. "I'll write you a check next to pay you back for the loan... $35.77, right? I'm totally killing this adulting thing. Don't you think I'm killing this adulting thing?"
Spike grinned and pulled her to a stop with their joined hands, swinging her around to face him as he did. His eyes burned like blue flames behind hooded lids. "Can think o' some other very adult things you're bloody brilliant at, pet."
Buffy bit down on a grin as she trailed a fingertip down the front of his t-shirt. God, how could she have even considered throwing this amazing man away? She wanted to go to sleep and wake up in his arms every day, she wanted to talk to him and walk with him, fight with him and alongside him. And she definitely wanted to jump his very pretty bones in between all those things. She was pretty sure her mom would not be down with the sleeping, waking, and bone jumping, at least not at home. But they weren't home right now... "Oh, yeah? Like what?"
He released her hand and mimicked her teasing touch, using both hands to feather up her body, from her hips to the perfect curve of her breasts. "Like sucking my cock with that hot mouth o' yours, licking and moaning around me, swallowing me down, filling your belly with my cum. Like fucking me with that tight cunt o' yours 'til my knees buckle, and I touch sodding heaven. Like jerking me off with your deadly fists, making me spew my jizz all over your pretty tits. Like snogging me 'til all I can taste, all I can smell, all I can feel is you. Like screaming my name as I lick your pretty cunt, and fuck you with my fingers..."
She shivered with his words and his touch as his fingers teased her nipples through the soft fabric of her shirt. "I suddenly feel like doing a lot more adulting..." she rasped breathlessly, stroking the length of his cock through the denim.
"You ever been shagged in a sewer tunnel, pet?" Spike asked, his voice as rich as dark, melted chocolate.
Buffy looked around, her eyes glittering in the dim lights—why were there lights in sewer tunnels, anyway? Weren't electricity and water unmixy? Oh, who cared? "No."
"Well, can't say I ever have either. Seems we need t' set that right, then, don't we?" The feral grin that curved Spike's lips made Buffy's insides quiver. "Wanna pop one of my cherries, pet?"
"Immediately, if not sooner," she gasped as she got his zipper down and his cock sprang out into her hand. Spike moaned as she squeezed his yearning flesh, then began stroking him, swirling her thumb into the pearl of precum leaking from his cumslit. "Touch me, Spike, please."
"Your wish... my command," he panted back, whirling her around and pressing her toward a set of rungs that formed one of the many ladders that led up to the street.
Buffy clung to the cold metal, bending over and opening herself to his questing fingers. She'd decided that wearing skirts while out of the house and out of the control of her mother's PG rule, which they'd totally violated several times last night, was the practical and expedient choice.
His fingers stroked up and down her soaked panties, as if Buffy needed to be any wetter or any hornier. "Fast or slow, Slayer?" he rumbled, slipping a cool digit beneath the fabric to tease her clit.
"Fast. Hard. Now," Buffy breathed, wriggling her ass temptingly.
She heard Spike's demon emerge and then a fang snicked through her panties, shredding them neatly. His tongue slid over her sex, from clit to ass, making Buffy shiver in anticipation as gooseflesh raced over her, prickling her from head to toe. Then his mouth was gone, and she moaned for the loss. The air was shockingly cool against her wet, hot skin, but she had little time to relish that sensation before Spike was sliding inside her, stretching her, filling her, and making her gasp in pleasure.
Buffy's back arched and Spike's fingers dug into her hips as he pulled back, and then thrust forward, driving a shrill squeak of bliss from her lips. And then he was slamming into her, their flesh smacking together loudly in the confined space, echoing through the tunnels.
"Yes, yes, yes..." Buffy chanted with each bruising stroke that pounded her cunt as she hung onto the ladder for dear life.
Spike's grunts and growls of effort joined her gasping litany of encouragement as he plowed into her tight, hot cunt, determined to fuck them both over the edge fast and hard—just like his goddess wanted.
It took no time at all for them to be teetering there, on the razor's edge between heaven and Earth. Spike reached around and fingered her clit, tapping it in time with his thrusts. Buffy screamed, her body convulsing around him as a powerful orgasm rocketed through her.
"More... more... more..." she panted as the first wave of euphoria waned enough for her to speak again.
Spike answered the demand with a ferocious growl and renewed vigor, thrusting into her madly. "Touch your tits... pinch those perfect buds..." he demanded, still fingering her clit with one hand as his other yanked back on her hip as he drove into her.
"OhgodOhgodOhgod... Oh-Spike-god-Spike-fuck-yes-yes-more! Now! Now! Fuckkk! Yessss!" Buffy shrieked as her body stiffened and then began to buck wildly against him, her cunt squeezing his cock, milking his balls until he couldn't hold back another moment.
He spilled into her with a howl of release, his cock pulsing with surge after surge of jizz shooting deep into her spasming depths. Spike slumped against her back, both of them struggling for breath. He held to one of the ladder rungs with one hand as his other slowly, gently circled her clit, feeling the aftershocks tighten her cunt around him each time he slid his finger over her slick bundle of nerves.
She moaned deliciously, and Spike began kissing the hot, damp skin of her neck, purring praise and adoration against her with every touch of his lips to her flesh.
Slowly they came back to Earth and eventually separated—the part they both loathed—with a mutual groan of protest. Spike pulled his jeans up from where they'd pooled around his knees and tucked himself away, still coated with their combined juices. Buffy did what she could to straighten her skirt, but frowned at the cum sliding down the insides of her thighs.
"We're supposed to meet Giles in a few minutes. I can't go see him with proof of our sex-capades dripping from down my legs and my panties shredded," she pouted.
Spike reached into an inner pocket of his duster and came out with a pack of wet-wipes and a fresh pair of panties.
Buffy's brows nearly hit her hairline. "You are the best boyfriend ever! Talk about being prepared... better than a Boy Scout."
The grin on Spike's face this time was triumphant as she reached for the wipes, but he yanked them back. "Ah, ah... that's my job, luv," he insisted, handing her the panties. He pulled a couple of the wipes from the pack and dropped to his knees in front of her. Buffy gasped as he began licking and suckling up her thigh, cleaning their spendings from her skin. She leaned back against the ladder again, her fingers closing over it, holding on, as he sent bolts of cool fire flickering over her skin.
"Have... meeting... Giles ... soon," she reminded him as he made his way slowly up one leg and then down the other.
He lifted one of her legs over his shoulder and began cleaning her folds with his tongue and lips, which was not lessening the amount of moisture gathered there.
"Spike, baby... god..." she murmured, reaching one hand down to touch him, caressing his face as his tongue delved between her labia and found her clit, making her hips jerk against him.
"Love you, Buffy... love every bloody inch of you... how you taste—how we taste together—how you breathe, how your heart beats, how your quim drips for me, how you say my name..."
"Spike..."
"Yeah, like that. Say it again, pet."
"Love you... Spike, god, yes... so good..."
"Cum for me, pet... cum all over my tongue," he begged, burying his mouth in her curls, slipping his tongue deep into her pulsating depths.
"Spike..." It was a vow, a plea, a promise, a demand, a pledge, a declaration. It was everything he'd ever wanted to hear in his lover's voice. It was how he always wanted her to say his name, infused with love from the deepest recesses of her soul.
And then she was cumming again, a gentle rocking of her hips, like sunlight on the ocean, kissing the waves as they rolled over her, through her, not drowning this time, caressing, lifting and falling with the tide.
"Oh, Spike... baby," she sighed, her body suddenly turning to jelly, wanting nothing more than to sink to the ground with him and stay there for all eternity.
Spike smiled against her pussy, licking up the last of her juices, cleaning every drop from her hot skin. Then the cool wipes were sliding up and down her thighs, across her swollen labia, cleaning up the last vestiges of their naughtiness from her body. Before he stood up, Spike slid her ripped panties down her legs and pocketed them, then, kneeling, he lifted each foot in turn as she slid her quivering legs into the fresh pair.
"Can we just go to your house and sleep and make love and eat and make love and... and never do anything else?" she asked dreamily.
"Got no argument from me," he agreed as he made sure her skirt was resettled and looked presentable. "Though I think at the mo' your mates are there."
Buffy sighed and leaned into him. "We need to get it done so we have a place all of our own... or at least get the bedroom done."
"Sounds brill, luv. Can't wait t' have you tucked up in my bed... our bed."
Buffy made a delicious sound of agreement before Spike wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and they began walking again.
"I guess that means we have to go report to Giles, huh?"
"Duty calls, Slayer."
"Duty sucks."
Spike laughed. "Too right. And not in the good way."
-X-
"Oh, shit," Buffy muttered as they entered the library and saw Lydia and Giles waiting for them at the research table. Giles was looking through some papers while the Liaison read a book—one of the old, dusty books, not a Harlequin Romance. "They're ganging up... that's never of the good."
Spike squeezed her hand in reassurance. He wondered if he'd ever get used to her shifts from powerful Slayer to schoolgirl. She could wring the Watcher's heads from their necks without breaking a bloody sweat, and yet, the sight of them had her heart fluttering like a nervous nuthatch.
"Ah, there you are," Giles greeted them, closing the folder he'd been reading and putting it down on the table as he stood up. "I trust everything went well with the artifacts?"
"They're tucked away, safe and sound in a comfy drawer in the bank vault," Buffy assured him, pulling out one of the keys to show him. "Now we just have to hide the keys. Spike's putting his in a flour jar—he said that's where normal people hide things. Though, now that I think about it, putting it in a normal hiding place probably isn't a good idea, cos wouldn't that be the first place someone would look? Also, what if you need flour for the making of something floury... like a cake for your Uncle Billy Bob who's in jail. Boy, would your face be red when he found it and escaped. We might need to rethink that whole plan."
"Billy Bob?" Giles questioned, but Buffy kept talking over him, "I was going to go with the fake rock in the yard until I realized I don't have any real rocks in the yard, so it would be kind of like putting a big neon sign on it, but then, uh, someone had the idea of putting it in the heating vent with this handy-dandy magnetic thingy." She pulled out the key hider and showed him. "What do you think?"
"I always used the tea tin, myself," Giles offered. "Flour, you say?"
Spike shrugged. "Or the cistern."
"Yes, the other obvious choice. Well, I trust you will both find perfectly safe places for them."
"May I suggest putting a glamour on the keys so that they do not appear to be keys, but some unremarkable object, to anyone outside of this group?" Lydia suggested.
Giles nodded. "Excellent idea, yes." He looked back up at Buffy and Spike. "We'll do that before you two leave. In the meantime, why don't you have a seat," he invited, waving a hand at the chairs across from him and Lydia.
Buffy sighed as Spike pulled a chair out for her and she sat, dropping as heavily as her small frame allowed. She winced as her sensitive flesh connected with the hard wood, and not the fun kind, she could almost hear Spike saying in that voice laced with sin and promise. Buffy squirmed until her bruised cunt didn't press directly into the wood… definitely not the fun kind. She slapped a hand over her mouth as a snicker escaped.
Spike tilted his head questioningly as Giles and Lydia began their interrogation.
"Tell me about Drusilla and your connection with her," Giles said as Spike took the seat next to Buffy.
The Slayer gave her boyfriend a gimlet glare as he threw up his hands in surrender before draping one over the back of Buffy's chair.
"Don't blame him," Giles interjected. "The Druids? While it is possible they have taken some interest in your wellbeing, and they were, at times, accurate fortune tellers, it seems more likely that the person supplying not altogether accurate prognostications, is Drusilla."
Spike's fingers began playing with the ends of her hair, instantly calming her nerves. He really was the best boyfriend ever with the clean panties and wipes and calming touches and….
Buffy shook herself back to the present and sighed. "She isn't always wrong—she told me who was poisoning me, even if I didn't understand it at the time. You remember that, right? 'Chameleon gods from another land skittering around in plain sight'?"
Giles cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Yes, I seem to recall that," he admitted sheepishly. "I thought that if we understood how this... connection came about, that we may be able to break it."
Buffy's palm, right where she'd made the blood oath with Dru, itched, and she scratched it absently. "I... I don't think I want to break it."
Everyone looked surprised, especially Spike. "Having Dru rattling around in your noggin can't be healthy, pet."
"She's not there all the time, just in dreams, and only sometimes—like twice o-or three times. I'd rather have incoherent warnings than no warning at all," Buffy insisted. "I know now not to take what she says as holy grail-ness. Having some warning is better than none, which is what I've gotten from the Powers lately. They're seriously lacking in their timely helpfulness."
"Well, I would still feel better if I had some understanding of exactly what brought this on between you," Giles said. "Just in case there is some need to break the connection in the future, we could have a plan in place before there is a critical need."
Buffy looked at Spike, who shrugged. "Seems sensible," he agreed, still running his fingers through the ends of Buffy's hair.
She sighed and looked back at Giles. "Have you ever heard of a blood oath?" she began as the two Watchers began nodding and scribbling notes in their journals.
-X-
"Giles took that better than I thought he would," Buffy admitted to Spike later as they walked down the empty hallways of Sunnydale High.
"He's a right sod at times, but think he's sussed out doing things 'by the book' isn't what's gonna keep you alive and slayin'."
Buffy nodded. "It took almost killing all of us for him to get there."
"Which means he won't soon forget," Spike observed. "Think we can trust him to do the right thing in the future."
Another nod from the Slayer. "His lack of freaking out is totally of the good. I thought Leanna was gonna swallow her tongue a couple of times when I was talking about Dru and the oath."
Spike chuckled. "She's got a ways t' go, but think she'll come through for us."
"A Council Automaton coming through for the Slayer? First time for everything, I guess," Buffy muttered.
Spike snorted and pulled Buffy into a dark classroom. "Speaking o' first times... ever been bent over a school desk and shagged breathless?"
Buffy's eyes glittered in the dim light that filtered in from the darkening sky outside. She bit her lip in that way that made Spike's fangs itch and his groin tingle. "Noooo..." she crooned temptingly. "And I've been a very bad girl," she continued suggestively, dropping down into one of the chairs, letting her legs fall open as much as her short skirt would allow. "I might need to be taught a lesson or two by the big, bad vampire."
"Teaching bad girls lessons is my speciality," Spike rumbled, stalking over to her. "Now, let's see just how bad you've been, Miss Summers," he continued, coming up behind her. He slid his hands down her body, over her breasts, which pebbled beneath his touch, over her quivering stomach down over her skirt to her bare thighs. With deliberate slowness that had Buffy already breathless, he dipped his hands beneath her skirt, skimming over her silky thighs, hiking her skirt up and spreading her legs wide.
"What have we here?" he murmured into her ear as he slid long, questing fingers to the junction of her thighs, rubbing them over the damp fabric of her panties. "Oh yes, a very bad girl, you are. So wet... who are you wet for, then?"
"Y-you..." she gasped back as he pressed harder, raking the lace roughly against her slit.
"Are you, then? Naughty girl, hot for William the Bloody. Definitely need t' be taught your lesson for that."
"H-How?" Buffy managed as her body bloomed with overwhelming desire.
"Thought we'd start with at the front of the class on your knees sucking my cock," Spike whispered against the tender skin of her neck. "Show all your little schoolmates what happens to bad girls, won't we?"
Buffy shuddered beneath him, a flood of slick, hot juice coating his fingers as they played with her pussy through the fabric of her panties.
"Like that, do you? Turn you on to have them watching you suck me off?"
Buffy started to shake her head negatively, but he wrapped his free arm beneath her chin in a loose chokehold, stopping her movement. "Liars get punished doubly," he warned, his voice a barely audible rumble against her flushed skin.
She swallowed hard, her mind whirling. There was no denying her body's reaction to the mental image he'd conjured. She remembered how 'The Joy of Sex' emphasized that nothing is 'bad' or 'wrong' as long as you both enjoyed it and you weren't hurting anyone. And she knew that for some people, just the fantasy of doing things was enough—you didn't actually have to do them—and the image he'd painted definitely had her body quivering with excitement.
She bit her lip again and nodded against his arm. "Y-Yes," she breathed.
Spike grinned. God, she's a bloody wonder! He couldn't wait to discover everything that turned her on and explore it all thoroughly. "Good girl... learning already, you are," he praised her, stroking her face gently with one hand, as the other remained between her thighs. "Gonna show your little mates how bad girls suck cock, how they moan and beg and swallow it down like manna from sodding heaven. Put you right up front, have them gather round to get a good view of you on your knees. Then, when your sweet juices are flowing down your thighs and dripping on the floor, I'll bend you over my desk, lift your skirt to show 'em your pretty pussy, and fuck you 'til you scream. Have the whole class hard or wet by the time I'm done with you... give them a proper 'sex education', we will.
"That sound like a proper lesson, my naughty Slayer?"
"Oh, god...yes." Buffy's hips jerked against Spike's hand as a flurry of dancing glitter swirled behind her closed lids, pleasure and need twining around inside her like an orgasmic vine.
"Love you so fucking much," he murmured against her ear before leading her to the front of the room and tenaciously administering the lesson plan he'd so meticulously laid out. From her reactions, he didn't think it would have the effect of discouraging her attraction to William the Bloody. Quite the opposite, in fact. Which, of course, had been the goal all along.
-X-
Chapter End Notes:
EXTRA SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT!
MissLuci was extremely displeased with the 'fade to black' on the final scene of this chapter, so much so that we ended up co-writing an 'adult only' one shot of the lessons that Spike administered. It is a completely consensual, teacher/student role play with (imaginary) voyeurism/exhibitionism, and light BDSM. That one shot will be part of this series, but NOT PART OF THIS STORY. There will be NO PLOT in it, just 100% porn without plot, so if this is not your cup of tea, it's easily skipped. Keep a watch for it to be posted as a separate story in this series (I'll call it Episode 5.1). It will be posted as soon as possible, I hope before the next update, but I'm trying to get a pretty banner made and that might delay it.
'Blaisdell', the name of the hardware store, is the last name of Larry, a student at Sunnydale High who was initially portrayed as a stereotypical jock, first seen bullying Xander in the episode "Halloween". He is also rather lecherous, constantly harassing girls, including Buffy and Willow, however, in 'Phases', we learn that he is a closeted homosexual.
Dripping heart in the storyboard from Wakasi Design