Chapter 4.04
Tuesday, May 14th, 2002
Unknown to Spike, he almost exactly echoed Buffy's
own thoughts on the matter. "Don't reckon as the watcher's
goin' to be throwin' us a party when he finds out about this."
"It's not like we've got to rush to tell
him," Buffy pointed out.
"Maybe not, but I think maybe we're going
to have to start keepin' some sort of journal, so that if he needs
to backtrack over any of this, we've got all the details and dates."
"Do they put something in the water in England
or something? You sound positively watcherly."
"Bite your tongue, missy. The day I join
the tweed brigade—"
"Was the day we called you Randy?"
"Very funny. If this water was any deeper
that would have earned you a ducking, love."
Buffy gave a mischievous grin. "Who says
the water's not deep enough?" Scooting back to kneel at the
foot of the bath, she bowed her head to where Spike's erection
just broke the water's surface. Spike shivered with sensation
as she blew gently on his damp skin. Her tongue flicked out to
circle his head as a small but firm hand worked his shaft in long,
slow, slick strokes. When she finally took him into her mouth
Spike thought he was going to come, the combination of the water's
heat and watching Buffy duck her face in the water with every
stroke almost enough to undo him.
He reached out to draw her head up, away from
the water's surface. Pulling her up his body until their lips
met, he cradled her body against his as he plundered her mouth.
Only when she pulled her head back, gasping for air, did they
part. In that instant Spike rolled them both, water slopping messily
over the side of the bath as he did so, before he claimed her
lips again. He laid a trail of kisses down her neck and over her
breastbone. His eyes watched her face, savouring her every reaction
as his lips closed over each pert nipple in turn, suckling and
teasing with the tip of his tongue. Buffy squirmed beneath him
until finally he let his demon features come to the fore, using
a fang to graze so gently over the taut pink flesh that a single
tiny drop of blood formed for him to lick off as he changed back
to his human features.
Then, with a wicked grin, the vampire whispered
his intentions. "My turn," he told her as he shifted
back and pushed her knees apart, hooking one of her legs over
the side of the bath.
"Hey, we're home." Willow called out
a warning to the house's occupants, half expecting to hear the
sound of two pairs of feet heading for cover. The rhythmic thud
of the washing machine in the basement was her only response.
"Come on in. It looks like they've popped
out. They might be at Spike's place. Em, we probably don't have
any milk, any more, or at least any we did have is probably more
like yoghurt by now, but we can do black coffee, or we've got
some of that cream in a can that you squirt."
"Black coffee's fine. Maybe you can tell
me where I should put my things, in the meantime." Wesley
hovered in the hall, a large and heavy looking rucksack slung
over one shoulder and a set of panniers slung over the other.
"Em. Just leave them in the hall. I think,
chances are, Spike'll probably move in here for the duration and
let you have his place, but it might be for the best if he thinks he
came up with it all by himself, or Buffy did."
"And you're not bothered about sharing a
house with Spike?" the former watcher asked.
"After last night, a little. Okay, a big little, but Buffy trusts him and I trust Buffy, so."
Tara called out from the kitchen. "There's
plenty of stuff here. Looks like Spike's been doing the shopping
again."
"And he does buy ice-cream and stuff."
"And that would be an irrefutable sign that
he is now on the side of good?"
"Works for me," answered the redhead.
The slayer pulled off the helmet that Spike had
insisted on buying her. The vampire did likewise with his only
headgear, a pair of mirrored sunglasses.
"Eww." Buffy ran her fingers through
her hair. "Sticky. It's too hot to wear a helmet. And it's
too tight. It makes my hair go all flat. I need another shower,
and you are such a hypocrite."
"Look, love, it's supposed to be tight... ish,
and, short of my head coming off my shoulders, which a helmet wouldn't
do anything to prevent, nothing's going to cause any permanent
damage. You on the other hand have a perfectly adorable head that
I would prefer remained intact."
"And what if you get pulled over. It'd be
just great if you got yourself deported before your fake papers
arrive."
"The cops in this town know better than
to try to pull over anyone as can flash a bit of fang."
"That is so..."
The sound of someone clearing their throat made
the two blondes look up to where Willow and Wesley were watching
from the front porch with some incredulity.
"Bogus," Buffy finished as the witch
and the former watcher watched the vampire casually stroll around
to eye Wesley's bike.
"Harley. Nice. Thank God it's yours, mate.
Thought it was Bit's bloke's for a second. Was about to have a
bloody heart-attack, metaphorically speaking. Thought of the Bit
ridin' pillion behind some teenage hothead."
"Spike!?" The witch's exclamation came
out as half way between a question and an exclamation of exasperation.
"What, Red? Didn't think either of you would
need me to draw a diagram," retorted the vamp as he gazed
up to gauge the angle of the sun, as if it was something he did
every day. "Well, reckon as it's time I made a start on the
cookin'." Spike slung an expansive arm around the bemused
former watcher's shoulders. "So, is this just a flying visit
or are you back in Sunnyhell for good?"
"I think that's what I'm here to find out.
I'm planning to stay here for a couple of weeks, maybe check out
the property market. If things go well, I fly back, load up the
car and hire a U-haul. If, however, sharing The Magic Box with
Anya for a day makes my brain liquefy and start leaking out of
my ears I may seek alternate employment. And I think Tara's already
making a start on the food. She said some of the recipes were
book-marked, so she made a head start on the preparation."
"Shoulda known Glinda would pitch in. You
got somewhere to stay while you're here? 'Cause if Buffy can put
up with my ugly ass around here, you can stay at my place."
Spike was already fiddling with his keyring as he looked back
over his shoulder to where the redheaded Wiccan was looking to
Buffy for an explanation for her sunbathing boyfriend.
"Orbs. Seems like invulnerable equals no
sunburn, and since Xander's going to be busy at work all day,
it seemed a shame to let them go to waste. Spike'll drop them
off tonight, when he goes to see Clem, no big."
"Way big, Buffy, huge big," Willow
replied.
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Try telling that
to Mr Stubborn Pants."
"Pet? Before we start that one again, is
it okay if I stay here for now? That way Giles Junior can have
my place to himself?"
"Sure," Buffy answered.
"Mr Stubborn Pants?" Wesley queried.
"Ask her," Spike deflected. "She's
the one as made it up. I've just got to put up with it."
"And I think you'll find that you're
Giles Junior, as well," his fiancée pointed out.
Spike turned to face his accuser head on, relinquishing
his grip on Wesley as he did so. "Balls to that. Nowhere
on any of my papers does it say that my father's name was Rupert,
so you can forget that one straight off."
"So, just in case I'm ever asked, what does
it say your parent's names were?"
"Arthur and Nancy Anne, maiden name Lydon."
Wesley gave the vampire a curious glance as he
accepted the keys to Spike's flat. "I get Lydon and Nancy
could be real or it could be Spungen, though shouldn't it go with
Sid's name rather than Johnny's? But Arthur and Anne sound like
they might be real."
Spike shrugged. "Just liked Lydon. Got a
ring to it and buggered if anybody could tell you what his wife's
called. And if the rest sounds real, it's because they are. And
that's as much as you get, Watcher. If I wouldn't tell the old
bugger, what makes you think I'd tell someone I've barely met.
'Sides you lot are all too fond of writin' everythin' in your
little books for my likin'."
"Little books like you wanted to start writing?"
Buffy asked archly.
Spike drew her a dirty look. "Pet, how about,
since you're not goin' to be busy in the kitchen like some of
us, you take Wes here across to the flat to drop his stuff off
and pick me up some changes of clothes? Take the scenic route
and get him reacquainted with some of the sights and sounds of
Sunnyhell. We'll have plenty to keep us busy here for a while,
I reckon."
As the door swung closed behind Spike and Willow,
Buffy looked across at Wes. "Why do I feel like we've just
been got rid of?"
"Maybe because all my things are still on
the other side of the door that just got shut in our faces?"
A second later the door opened again and Spike
cheerfully deposited Wes's things on the doorstep and pulled Buffy
into his arms for a kiss. "See you in an hour or so, pet.
You could take Wes to that pub we went to on Friday, reckon he'd
like it."
Buffy stood on tiptoe to give him a peck on the
cheek, whispering in his ear at the same time. "I got the
message the first time."
"Good. And take your helmet. Can't be too
careful."
Buffy waited for Wesley to kick-start the hog,
before she scrambled on behind him. As they rode away, Buffy couldn't
help thinking that the vampire was up to something and it wasn't
just cooking, or giving her and Wes an excuse to get out of range
of any listening devices.
And sure enough, before the sound of the Harley's
engine had even faded into the distance, Spike had inducted the
witches into his little conspiracy. By the time Buffy and Wes
reached Spike's apartment, on the other side of what was, after
all, a one Starbuck's town, the vampire was already replacing
the handset after phoning Anya at the Magic Box. By the time Wes
and Buffy were drinking coffee at a remote roadhouse, Spike had
all his plans set firmly in motion and had settled in to see how
he could help Tara in the sun-filled kitchen.
"Well, I guess that covers everything, except
one question."
"And what's that?"
"Mr Stubborn Pants?"
Buffy rolled her eyes. "A certain person
who shall remain nameless, refuses to even contemplate the prospect
of asking Xander and Anya If they'd mind an exchange on the wedding
gifts front."
She put on an extremely poor copy of Spike's
drawl. "'Cause those things are meant to save Demon Bint
from worryin' 'bout Harris getting' bashed to bits and I'll not
have anyone sayin' I'm some damn Indian giver. Gave them to the
boy, and they're his now, end of story." Giving a sigh, she
let the accent lapse. "And then we got off on this whole
new argument about how there isn't a PC term that means the same
as Indian giver and how Spike wouldn't use it even if there was
and where the term derived from and whether it was Native American
Indian or Indian from India.
If he had something he calls a good reason, he
might borrow them, but he refuses to ask for them back."
She shrugged. "Like I say, Mr Stubborn Pants."
"I must say it seems to rather contradict
all the effort he went to, looking for the Gem of Amara and then
trying to wrest it from Angel."
"But he didn't give that to Angel, so if
he could take it from him it was fair game. At least, that seems
to be the way Spike logic works.
So, question for you. Weren't you supposed to
be going through the junk at the junk shop?"
Wes shrugged. "Well, I had a skim through
this morning before we left and confiscated some of the more obvious
items, but when I spoke to Rupert on the phone, he intimated we
might be able to reach some sort of financial arrangement regarding
any items that he could use for stock. He thought if I spent a
couple of days with Anya in the shop, I then might be able to
cover for her while she retrieves any items she wants for inventory."
"Can I give you some advice? Settle the
money side with Giles. If Anya gets involved you're guaranteed
to get a... tougher deal." Buffy hesitated trying to find a
diplomatic way to describe Anya's business acumen before she changed
topics.
"Look, there's something else. I think Spike
was hinting at me to tell you. Of course, if I'm wrong... but never
mind... I would talk to Giles about it, but we really don't have
a way to speak to him that can't be eavesdropped on ...upon? Whatever?
Anyway... What it is, is that ever since we made the claim mutual,
we've been sharing dreams.
Friday night, Saturday morning we both dreamt
about mom. Yesterday, when we got Spike back and we caught some
sleep at the hotel, it was my buried alive dream, but he was buried
underneath me? Sort of separate coffin, same plot, you know? Only
he figured it was something to do with Dru, that if Fred hadn't
woken us he would have got to where she was waiting for him as
he clawed his way out. So, he didn't say anything, and I didn't
say anything because like since... I mean, he says he used to get
the coffin dreams, too, when he was first turned, but it had been
years since he'd had one, but with Dru being like five minutes
dead he just chalked it up to stress and maybe because I'd mentioned
I'd been having them, like it put the idea in his head.
Then, this morning we both had this dream, like
he was showing me around New York, showing me places he used to
go and stuff. And, Wes, he told me things I didn't know. I've
never been to New York, right? And we're not talking tourist sights,
unless you count Central Park in the middle of the night, which
I kind of gather isn't somewhere most tourists would want to be,
but the places he took me in the dream, they're real. Spike can't
vouch for how many of them are likely to still be standing, but
they were how he remembers them."
"And while he was held prisoner?"
"Same old recurring yada, yada, yada, no
Spike. But every time since the claim that we've fallen asleep
in the same room. same dreams."
"And you say, there were things he told
you in the dream that you had no way to know? What about when
you dreamed about your mother? Was there anything to suggest the
dream originated in your memories rather than his? For example,
what was she wearing? Was it a real outfit? Could Spike have seen
her wearing it?"
"Wes, it was a dream and it was." Buffy
counted off the days on her fingers. "Three and a half very
long days ago. I couldn't really remember what I dreamed about
until we sat down to work it out and Spike said he remembered
he dreamed about mom 'cause he woke up in a good mood. But even
he doesn't remember any details, and I wouldn't be surprised if
Spike knew mom better than I did.
He loved her, you know. And he's so intuitive
with people. He picks up on the least little thing. I mean, sometimes
when he was down, he'd bring out the mothering instinct, but sometimes
I'd come in from school and he'd be sitting round the kitchen
with her and Dawn and the three of them would be laughing their
heads off, and I'd feel like I was the outsider. I guess what
I'm getting at is that him and mom could talk like equals, so
he got to see all of her, while I got Joyce-the-mom."
"I didn't realise Spike had known your mother
so well. I thought your relationship was a recent thing?"
"Our relationship's been around a long time,
it's just done a one eighty degree shift over the years, but he'd
been mooching cocoa from my mom for years before he was even chipped.
I just wish—"
Buffy shook her head. It was no good wishing
that her mom could be here or that Spike could have had some sort
of reconciliation with her before she died.
She drained what was left of her coffee before
picking up her helmet and wrapping herself in the folds of her
thick leather coat.
"Come on, our hour is up."
Dinner was ready. All that everyone was waiting
for was the arrival of Dawn and the guest of honour. Tension was
thick in the air as the group waited expectantly. Wes's gaze flicked
to watch the vampire's face as they heard the sound of an engine
approaching the house and then being cut off. The former watcher
saw the gold flecks that flashed in the vampire's eye before he
stormed off to the kitchen. Buffy exchanged puzzled glances with
Tara and Willow, before she pushed her concern over the vampire's
unpredictable actions to one side, to go and greet their guest.
Wes never got the chance to explain that the distinctive sound
of a two-stroke engine was enough to tell both the men in the
room that the vampire's nightmare scenario from this afternoon
was coming true.
It was her sister shaking her head and fluffing
her hair as she passed her helmet back to her date that told
Buffy the good news. Buffy scanned her sister's clothing, taking
in the lack of padding on knees and elbows. Her mouth thinned
in a disapproving line before she could cover up with what was
now a patently false smile of greeting.
"Dawn, Brandon, why don't you come in? We're
all ready to start as soon as you're settled in."
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