Things That Go Bump in the Night by Slaymesoftly

ReviewsRating: NC-17

Summary: Set several years post NFA, Buffy has moved on, is no longer in mourning for her two dead vampires. Then Dawn calls her for some help and she finds something she never expected to.

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Chapter 18

Buffy burst into Giles’ office to be greeted by an exasperated “Did your mother never teach you to knock?” Ignoring the less than cordial welcome, she sat down, leaned forward and said, “What do you and Willow think you know that I’m better off not knowing?”

“Dawn.” He gave a disgusted shake of his head. When Buffy just continued to gaze at him expectantly, he sighed. “I wish she hadn’t said anything, Buffy. I am not trying to hide anything from you, I just prefer not to raise any hopes or expectations that I’m fairly certain would be unwarranted.”

“What? What hopes? What expectations? Can you stop talking in riddles and just tell me what’s going on?”

“Nothing is going on,” he said firmly. “Willow has seized upon some story that Fred Burkle told her about. Angel apparently believed in it for some time, even after it became clear that the prophecy was probably a Wolfram and Hart fraud.”

“A prophecy,” Buffy said flatly. “Oh, joy.”

“Exactly. Hence my desire not to mention it in your presence.”

“Well, consider it mentioned. You might as well tell me about it now. Fake or not.”

“As far as we can ascertain, Angel was given a prophecy that indicated the vampire with a soul could redeem himself to the point that he would become completely human once again. It was one of his objectives in taking over Wolfram and Hart – to commit such serious damage upon the forces of evil that he would earn the right to claim this ‘Shanshu’ of which he’d been told.”

There was a loud scoffing noise to Buffy’s left and Giles froze in his seat. He turned wide eyes to her, groaning when she nodded. His presence no longer a secret, Spike gradually came into view, appearing thoroughly solid in the dim light of the office.

“Spike,” Giles said tightly.

“Watcher,” he replied with a hint of a smirk.

“I thought you were confined to your house?”

“The witch and Dawn didn’t tell you? She cured me of that little part of the spell or curse or whatever the bloody hell this is. And being ghostly seems to have taken care of the sunlight issues I used to have.”

“I see.”

“Well, now you see,” Buffy pointed out, giggling. “But you didn’t before.”

“Quite,” he muttered, turning towards Spike. “I don’t suppose you have any memory of this prophecy that Willow heard about? I understand that you and Angel had quite a fight at one time over some cup or something that was supposed to be a short cut to the shanshu.”

“Got no bloody idea,” Spike said cheerfully, “But that would bring me full circle, wouldn’t it? Start out human, go vampire, then ghost, and then back to human.”

Giles sighed again and the stern expression he’d been wearing since he realized that Spike was in the room softened somewhat.

“You need to realize – both of you need to realize,” he said, giving Buffy a sharp look, “that it is more than likely the entire scroll containing the prophecy was a complete fraud. Something concocted by Wolfram and Hart to distract Angel from his war against them.”

“But Giles, what if it is real? Maybe that’s what they mean by “another plane”. Maybe Spike will--”

“Buffy,” he said gently, “if it were true, why wouldn’t Angel, who had his soul much longer than Spike and who was actively pursuing this…transformation…why wouldn’t he have been the one to receive it?”

She slumped back in her chair, barely noticing when Spike took her hand and squeezed it. Giles gave her some time to get over her disappointment, then said kindly, “You can see why I didn’t want anyone telling you about it, can’t you? The chances that it even exists are so slim, and when you add the fact that neither Angel nor Spike received it at the time of their deaths…It just seems to be a false prophecy invented by an evil organization bent on destroying Angel.”

“Oh,” she said in a small voice. “Yeah. I guess so. Dawn was just so sure that--”

“In retrospect, we probably should have told her about it, if for no other reason than to avoid this very situation.”

There was a lengthy silence, then Spike said, “Don’t fret, love. We’re no worse off than we were before we came in here. Didn’t expect to find a way out then, and we don’t have one now.”

“But we should have a way out, dammit! You’re a champion. I’m the Chosen One …er - one of the ones. We should be able to find a way out of this.”

“Not saying we give up, Buffy. I’m jus’ saying the only thing under our control right now is how we are with each other.” Just as Giles was trying to figure out how to appear to be not listening to the increasingly personal conversation, Spike added, “I’m not going anywhere without you, and you’re not going anywhere without me. Who in their right mind wants to argue with the most stubborn pans in the drawer?”

“Pots, kettles,” Buffy said with a watery smile. “Yeah, you’re right. Double stubbornness. We’re good.”

She stood up and pulled Spike to his feet.

“Thanks, Giles. I guess we’re right back where we started, but we’ll deal.”

“I’m confident that you will,” he said with a warm smile that almost included Spike. “Now, about tomorrow--”

“Oh yeah. Is he going to be here? The lawyer guy?”

“Yes, and I’ve apprised him of the…situation. He will have the necessary paperwork to transfer ownership of the property to you, as well as whatever other legal documents you may decide you need. Perhaps some funds?” he looked inquiringly at Spike, who gave him a surprised grin.

“Got funds, thank you anyway, Watcher. Jus’ need to figure out how to get our hands on them without my having to make a ghostly appearance in the bank lobby at high noon.”

“Perhaps the solicitor can help with that as well,” Giles said, standing up and, after a moment’s hesitation, holding out his hand. “I would hope that, as we are both so fond of the same people, that we could let the past remain past and begin a new, more cordial relationship.”

Spike shrugged, letting go of Buffy’s hand to enclose the other man’s in a cool, firm grip.

“It’s not like I remember what I’m brassed off about anyway,” he said with a shrug. “If my girls think you’re alright, then it’s fine with me.”

“If you two hug, I’m going to hurl.”

They all whirled to see Dawn standing in the doorway, an expression of disbelief on her face.


After a quick explanation to a disappointed Dawn about the Shanshu and the unlikelihood of it’s being real, Buffy ran to get her passport and some more clothes to keep at Spike’s. She piled the bag of garments on top of the already full cart and they began the long trek up the hill to Spike’s house.

As her butt muscles began to feel the climb, Buffy remembered what she’d been planning to ask Spike.

“Do you think all the walking up this hill is making my butt tighter?” she asked, turning to present his glowing outline with a view of her tight jeans.

“Not touching that with a ten foot pole”, he replied, amending quickly, “That question, I mean. Not your fine arse, which I will touch at any and every opportunity.”

He put words into actions, cupping her ass and pulling her to him, releasing her only when the cart threatened to break away and begin rolling downhill. With a laugh, he let go and together they easily pulled their purchases the rest of the way up the hill and into the yard. While Buffy ran into the house with her clothes, Spike pulled the cart around to the back and began sorting through the various garden tools for something that would allow him to trim all the overgrown shrubs.

Buffy threw her clothes onto the couch in the library and soon joined him.


“Yes, love?” he said absently, inexpertly wielding a pair of pruning shears around several bushes that stuck out onto the path.

“If you haven’t lived here since you were turned, shouldn’t everything be in worse shape than this? I mean, I’m not an expert, but it seems to me like a hundred years of neglect would look yuckier than this, you know?”

“Have no idea, Slayer. But, you’re right. I noticed that not too long after I ‘moved in’. It’s obvious the place had been kept up -- at least until fairly recently. The bathroom, the shower, the lights. All new since I was turned, I’m sure.”

“Who do you suppose did it?” Buffy stared around anxiously, as though expecting someone to pop up and declare ownership.

“Reckon I did, love. Don’t remember doing it, but makes sense. The stash in the wall, the bank account – seems like I tried to keep a presence here for a long time. Then gave it up sometime before I became a ghost.”

“Like you knew this was going to happen?”

“Like I knew it would be a smart thing to have someplace to hunker down if I ever needed to keep a low profile for a time,” he corrected. “A comfy bolt-hole if I needed one. The fact that I already owned the house would just have made it easier.”

“I guess.” She looked at him sympathetically. “It must be really frustrating sometimes – not to be able to remember if you did something, or why you did it.”

“It’s a bit of a bugger,” he agreed. “But not much I can do about it, is there? It is what it is.” He stopped hacking at bushes and turned to gaze at her. “Wish it was different. Wish I remembered you and could appreciate how amazing it is that we’re here, together -- but it’s not worth the price, is it?”

Buffy shook her head in agreement and began to pick through the tools, pulling out a rake.

“I could use this to rake all the leaves out of the flower beds,” she said, trudging off towards the nearest debris-filled area. “Maybe it’s not too late in the year to put some flowers in.”


Several hours later, they sat on the newly restored steps and admired their handiwork. The path was now safe to walk from the steps to the far end of the garden, all the grasping branches and twigs that had frustrated Buffy so much the first time she went outside had been trimmed back or cut down completely. Most of the beds were now clear and it was possible to see that some of them contained plants that Buffy was able to recognize as not weeds. When she shared her opinion with Spike, he laughed.

“Not weeds’? Is that the best you can do, Slayer?”

“Hey! Working at night doesn’t leave a lot of time for learning about flowers,” she said, her indignation only partially faked. “And my mom didn’t have a lot of time for that stuff after she opened the gallery, either.”

“Was just joshin’ you, love,” he said, nudging her shoulder. “You prob’ly know more about it than I do. I know a lot of stuff about flowers and what they meant in Victorian days, but they were usually already cut when I saw them. Wouldn’t know anything about what kind of plants they came from.”

“You probably wouldn’t remember it if you did,” she pointed out.

“Don’t know why not. I’ve lost my memories of anything that’s part of my previous life – er, lives – not my general knowledge.”

“I meant, doofus, that you’re so old, that you probably can’t remember stuff like that from before you were turned.”

“I knew that.”


“Don’t you ‘pffft’ me, missy. I still owe you a spanking from a couple of nights ago. You don’t want to be reminding me of what an irritating bint you can be.”

“Are you sure I don’t?” She gave him a sidelong glance that promised things that made his pants immediately get tighter.

“Oh, you’re asking for it, you are,” he growled, sliding his arms around her and nibbling on her neck.

“Am I gonna get it?” she breathed, tilting her head to give him better access to her neck.

“Count on it.”

He stood up, pulling her to her feet beside him.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m tired. Think I could use a nap…”

“A nap sounds good,” she agreed, slipped her hands around his waist and biting his tee-shirt covered chest. “Race you downstairs.”

As one, they reached for the door, squeezing through it together to the accompaniment of much giggling and growling as they jostled to be first one in. A similar struggle took place at the bedroom door, and they almost tumbled down the stairs together.

“I won!” Buffy crowed, diving onto the bed, only to find herself pushed face first into the mattress. Spike had landed on top of her, his body covering hers completely and pinning her to the bed. He ground his erection into her buttocks, groaning when she pushed her ass up into him.

He rose to his knees, grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against his hips, rubbing himself against her as he used one hand to undo her jeans so that he could slide his hand into her pants and cup her. Buffy writhed against him, whimpering when he pulled his hand out to begin pushing her jeans down. When he had them down to her knees, he surprised her by not following up by unzipping his own jeans, but instead, sinking down on the bed and flipping her over his lap.

“Always keep my promises, pet,” he said with a smirk as he brought his hand down with a resounding smack on her bare rear. Her gasped cry made it very clear that he hadn’t hurt her in any unpleasant way, and he brought his hand down again, admiring the way her cheek turned red under it.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, forgetting about the spanking as he stroked the smooth flesh and leaned over to kiss his handprint. Buffy squirmed on his lap to remind him that she was waiting, and he grinned, nipping at the flesh in front of him.

Her irate, “Hey! Nobody said you could bite me!” made him nip at the other cheek, then take a mouthful of flesh and begin sucking on it. Her muttered complaints turned to moans of appreciation as he pulled the blood to the surface and used his free hand to stroke the inside of her thigh. When he was satisfied that he’d marked her for a while – even if it was in a place nobody but he was going to see – he sat up and began to push her pants the rest of the way off.

Buffy rolled over and kicked them off, sitting up and removing her shirt and bra by herself. When she was nude, she looked at the fully clad vampire and pouted.

“I’m naked and you aren’t. What’s wrong with this picture?”

“Nothing from my point of view, love,” he leered, running his eyes and then his hands over her torso. “I’d like to put this picture on my wall where I could look at it every day…”

Buffy waved her hands in his face. “Hello? Right here? In the flesh? Why do you want to waste time looking at a picture?”

He shook his head. “You aren’t really one for romantic thoughts and gestures, are you?” He laughed and pulled her back onto his lap, cradling her against his chest and nuzzling her neck until she purred and arched it to give him better access.

“I think you’re missing the point,” she gasped as one hand slipped up her thigh to tease at the damp curls between her legs.

Spike ignored her, continuing to run his mouth around her throat while his hand began to stroke and knead until she was moaning and limp on his lap. He moved his mouth to the breasts now within reach and began to suck vigorously first one, then the other while his hand continued to play with her clit. When he heard the little gasping whimpers that he’d already learned to associate with her orgasm, he raised his head to watch her face while she shuddered around his hand.

When Buffy’s eyes opened again, she peered at him and stretched lazily.

“Are you still not naked?”

“Are you complainin’?”

She stretched again, pushing her breasts up toward his face.

“Nope, not complaining. Just feeling a little guilty. It’s been all about me, so far.”

“Suspect it’s always been all about you, love,” he said with a short laugh. “But trust me when I tell you that I enjoyed that just as much as you did. Maybe more.”

Suddenly serious. Buffy sat up and put her hands on his chest. She slid them up to his neck and curled her arms around him.

“You don’t really know me and you’re still being good to me and making me feel like I’m doing you some kind of favor by--”

“By making me feel like I’m king of the world for getting you off while I watch? Not seeing the downside to this, pet.”

“No, not that. I mean, not exactly that. It’s just that… you don’t know me, but you mostly treat me just like you would if you did. Or, at least like you used to want to. I don’t know how you’d be if you had all your memories, but--”

“Buffy,” he respected her seriousness and responded as honestly as he could, “if I can feel like this about you after only a few days, there is no way it would be any different if I had them. Some part of me remembers you – my body knows yours, knows what to do, when to do it – knows that being inside you is the closest I’ll ever come to Heaven… I don’t know why I didn’t come running to you as soon as I could. Maybe we’ll never know. But I know it wasn’t because you were anything but the most important thing in my world.”

At a loss, as she usually was when Spike’s inner poet gave him an eloquence that she couldn’t hope to match, she responded by wrapping her legs around his waist and snuggling closer to him. She could feel the rough denim of his jeans, and the harder roughness of his zipper as he pulled her tighter into his lap. She stayed there for several minutes, grinding herself into him until she could feel him responding in spite of himself.

“So,” she whispered, ‘are you ready to be naked yet?”

“Bloody hell, yes,” he growled, taking his hands off her hips so that he could pull his shirt off. Buffy reached between them, reluctantly moving far enough away that she could get her hand on his zipper. By the time his shirt was off, she had his pants open and was pulling on his cock with long strokes.

“Ah, love, your hands…so warm…so strong…so…”

As he involuntarily pushed his hips towards her, she slid off his legs and fell backwards onto the bed, still holding his cock tightly in her hand. He followed her down, frantically shoving his pants down and trying to push them off with his feet while still remaining close enough for Buffy to continue her attentions. With an exasperated snarl, he threw himself onto his back and finished taking off his jeans, rolling back instantly to pin a giggling Buffy to the bed.

“What’s so bloody funny?”

“You. Me. Us. Come on, tell me if you’d been watching somebody else going through all those contortions that you wouldn’t have thought it was funny. I know you. You’d have been laughing your head off and saying rude, snarky things about how uncoordinated they were and how bad they were probably going to be at shagging.”

He gave a reluctant snort as he settled between her legs.

“Suppose that’s true. I just want you so badly, I can’t think straight. Need to be here –“ he paused to nudge his way into her – “and don’t want to wait one second longer than I have to.”

“You’re here now,” she whispered as he slid all the way in. “I can feel you filling me up. It’s just like I always remembered.”

“Used to think about shagging me, did you?” he grunted, setting up a pace that had her breath catching in her throat.

“I tried not to – but sometimes, when I…oh! Right there! Do that again…”

Conversation tapered off to a series of moans and sighs, leading to a mutually satisfied conclusion that left them dozing lightly, safe and protected in each other’s arms.


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