Part 2
Her eyes met those of her mortal enemy, who appeared every bit as confused as she herself was. “S-spike?”
“Slayer?” he ground out, taking a cursory look around at his surroundings. “What in the bloody fuck just happened here?”
Buffy shook her head slowly, as the disturbing recollection of the previous events began slowly filtering through her brain. She looked down at her gown, then reached one hand up and ripped the wig off her head in disgust, letting her blonde locks free to tumble over her shoulders.
“Hey,” Spike protested, “that wasn’t a bloody wig earlier.”
“Wow, aren’t you the total keen observer.” Dealing with some major wiggins, Buffy looked around once more, trying to piece together exactly what had occurred. She noticed the shiny tin star on breast pocket of Spike’s leather duster, and couldn’t help the snort that escaped as certain images struck her. Her traitorous eyes, however, had something else they wanted to check out, and her gaze was involuntarily drawn to the crotch of his tight black jeans. The large bulge still remained, and she found herself riveted. ‘Oh god, she had felt that against her. That was there because of her!’ she thought with increasing panic. She was seriously freaked now.
Feeling a bit spooked himself, Spike followed her gaze, and found his erection becoming even more strained under her unwavering stare. Without thought, he took a step in her direction, intent on feeling her against him once more.
Buffy snapped out of her daze, her eyes flying to his face as her slayer sense kicked in. But it wasn’t the evil intent that she expected to see in his eyes, it was a convoluted desire. Unbidden, her pulse skyrocketed, and she couldn’t admit it being from fear.
Mortified, Buffy managed to throw him an icy look, and fled into the night. The fact that her mortal enemy did not give chase was was not surprising. and she refused to consider the significance.
Later that night as she lay curled in her bed, finally alone after dodging a million questions, confusion ran rampant in her brain. Because she could now remember everything. Stupid Ethan Rayne and his idiotic spells. She was so going to kick his ass the next time she saw him.
++++++++++++
Buffy knew it should bother her watching Angel talk to this beautiful woman on the playground below. It was so obvious they knew each other, the body language, the intensity of the words were all enough to clue her into that. But… she felt nothing. What was up with that?
While she stood there berating herself for why she felt nothing, her Slayer sense homed in on something behind her. Crap. So not what she needed. She didn’t even bother turning around, just waited until he joined her.
“Who is she?”
“Drusilla,” Spike replied flatly.
Buffy turned her head to look at him, a questioning look in her eyes.
“She’s been my girl for over a century. But as soon as her precious little Angelus shows up, she forgets I bloody exist.”
Buffy nodded, then returned her attention to the couple below them.
“Look, Slayer, about the other night…”
Buffy whipped her head up. “So not talking about that.” No way was she opening herself up to that one. There had been entirely too much thinkage on that topic as it was.
“Fine.” Buffy watched him storm away, biting back the feeling of regret at seeing him leave. Sighing heavily, she turned around and went to patrol, unaware she had a majorally pissed off vamp on her tail.
++++++++++
“Ford, help me stop this… Please!” Buffy pleaded, her anxiety level rising through the roof. Stupid Ford. Who named their kid after a car, anyway?
Ford refused to listen to her, and Buffy ran over to the stairs again, Ford at her heels. “People, listen to me! This is not the mothership, people! This is ugly death come to play!” She called out.
Much to her dire shock, her words fell on deaf ears. ‘Ok, maybe not so much with the ugly‘ she thought traitorously. Her inattention proved to be damaging; Ford managed to sneakk up behind her and knocked her ass over backwards down the stairs. Ouch. Ok, he was at the top of her shit list for that one. Ford managed to land one more lucky blow while she was attempting to get up, and down she went again. Oh yeah, he was in for a world of hurt.
Through her pain and anger with a hefty side of embarrassment thrown in, she heard the outside door open, and groaned to herself. This was so not her night. Buffy decided to fight as lame as Ford had, and played possum. She allowed her hair to fan across her half hidden face, and watched as the inner doors opened. Ford totally fell for it, gloating proudly that he had rendered the Slayer unconscious. Riiiiight… as if.
And then, there he was, in all his vampiric glory. Great. Why did he have to look so good? Wasn’t there some cosmic rule that said all vampires had to be butt ugly, and could NEVER ooze sex appeal? Well, all soulless vampires, anyway.
Spike was determined to do the Slayer in, once and for all. She had been haunting his thoughts entirely too often for his liking, and they weren’t entirely evil musings of hatred, either. Drusilla had noticed his distraction, and had guessed the reasons for it. Either guessed, or sucked it out of his brain, he could never tell when it came to his Dark Princess. This was his one chance to prove that he felt nothing for the bitch, that he could drain her drier than the bleedin’ Sahara.
The disbelieving look had Dru had given him, had set him right off, and her refusal to join him on his victorious slaying of his third Slayer, bloody well chapped him. So he had gone along with the annoying human git’s proposal; the Slayer practically hand delivered for him to do in, and the sod’s payment would be immortality.
But, when he stalked in and the first thing that drew his attention was the crumpled body of HER at the bottom of the stairs, with the gloating retard hovering proudly over her, Spike just saw red.
With a vicious roar, he bounded down the steps, knocking the boy aside while he knelt at the Slayer’s side. Reaching his hand out, he gently brushed her hair away from her face. He smiled with wry amusement when he took note of her tightly creased eyelids, and her body tense with anticipation. So… the bint was playing hard to get. Unable to help himself, Spike bent down to blow a cool stream of air directly into her ear.
It had the desired effect. Buffy jumped up, eyes wide, and she scooted backwards away from the crouched vampire. The vampire who was sitting there looking at her with a smug, amused, shit eating grin on his face. Asshole. The vampire who was looking way too good, with his hair not quite as slicked back as it usually was. It was kinda… tousled. Oh god, was that cute? Did he have cute hair?
“Well… If it isn’t the fair maiden, all distressed, like.”
“Well… If it isn’t Wallopin Willie, long arm of the law,” Buffy mocked snidely, trying not to notice the devilish glint of his eyes. His nice pretty blue eyes that she seemed to lose herself in every damn time she looked in them. Like now, for instance.
“I’m touched. You remember.” Spike stood up suddenly, closing the distance between them.
Buffy scrambled to her feet, trying to ignore the waves of dizziness that accompanied that motion. Ok, this wasn’t good. She tried not to feel a tad hurt by the fact that Spike had set her up, then smacked herself mentally for feeling betrayed. Spike was a cold blooded killer, no matter how nice his lips had felt on hers. “Kinda hard to forget something like that,” she shot back finally.
Spike’s face softened. “Yeah.” His attention was drawn to the laceration on her temple. Reaching his hand out, he gently wiped a finger across the rivulets of blood streaming down her face, bringing it into his mouth. “You still taste good though.”
Before Buffy could protest, Ford walked up with his self-appreciation on proud display. “Sooo… when do I get my reward? I got her here for you.”
Wow, some friend he was turning out to be, Buffy thought bitterly, dizziness beginning to assault her with even more ferocity. Oh god, this was so not good. She could see the darkness try to take over at the corners of her vision. ‘No!’ she cried to herself. ‘Don’t let me do that swooning thing!’
Disgust filled Spike’s face, and he turned to strike the boy down, when he noticed the Slayer beginning to sway on her feet, her face completely devoid of color. With a frustrated growl, he caught her just as her eyes rolled back, and oblivion claimed her. Fuck. This wasn’t part of the bleedin plan, standing there holding the bloody unconscious Slayer, with absolutely no motivation to kill her.
Turning around swiftly, he lashed out with his foot in frustration, sending a chair flying across the room, where it slammed into the wall and splintered. The obnoxious boy looked at him with confusion. “You said you would turn me, if I gave you the Slayer,” Ford reminded him, without a hint of fear. There was too much riding on this for fear to enter the picture, he NEEDED to become one of the Immortal Ones.
“I said when I do her in,” Spike growled, rudely brushing past the annoying git as he headed for the stairs.
“Well? When is that going to be? Hello! You’ve got her right there!” Ford called after him, his friends watching in eager anticipation of joining the ranks of the Lonely Ones.
“Fuck if I know,” Spike muttered bitterly, taking the stairs two at a time, slamming the door shut behind him. He stood there in the alley, a battle being raged bitterly in his head. He glanced down at the unconscious form of the soddin’ Slayer, vulnerable and absolutely defenseless in his arms, and death was the absolutely last thing he felt like inflicting right now. His eyes flickered over her petite form, the slight swell of her breasts as her chest rose and fell in time with her breathing, and he tried desperately to fight the waves of affection that rose within him.
With a angry snarl, he strode off down the alley, not wanting to admit to being concerned by her prolonged unconsciousness. This was fucked; he knew it, but couldn’t quite find it within himself to care very much.
Just as he rounded the corner of the alley, he saw the Slayer’s band of merry men coming his way, their expressions anxious and terse. The Poof was leading the way, his brow furrowed and dark. Their anxiety turned to fear when they saw Spike with Buffy in his evil clutches, her body flailed limply in his arms.
“Spike,” Angel ground out, a warning growl rumbling from his chest.
“Oh, sod off, Peaches.” Making a decision, Spike stalked over to where his Grande-Sire stood, and threw Buffy into his arms. “She got knocked on the head a bit.” With that, Spike stormed off, head down, with his black duster billowing behind him.
“Is she ok?” Willow asked anxiously, checking Buffy’s neck frantically, only finding evidence of Spike’s previous mark upon her neck.
Angel stared after Spike for a moment, then looked down at the girl in his arms. “Yeah, I can hear her heart beating. She’s fine. I think she really was just knocked out.”
Xander and Willow exchanged glances. “So… what’s with the Bleached Menace doing the Buffy save-age thing?” Xander asked. “I thought we were here to save her from his evil claws.”
Angel sighed heavily, not liking the direction of his thoughts. He just shrugged with feigned ignorance, and resigned himself to taking Buffy to her Watcher.
An hour later, Buffy lay sleeping in her bed with her mom none the wiser, and Angel asked Giles to join him for a drink while he confronted him with his concerns.
Pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger, Giles asked, “So, you’re saying that Spike… just THREW Buffy at you?”
Angel tossed himself down heavily on his couch, and nodded wearily. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying.”
“And she was unconscious and bleeding in his arms?”
Angel nodded grimly.
“Good lord. Quite frankly, I don’t know what to make of this. Do you have any ideas?”
A black look flashed across the vampire’s face. “Yeah, but I’m not sure that I like them.”
Giles looked startled. “You’re… not suggesting that Spike has… feelings for Buffy, are you?”
There was another grim nod, as both men picked up their drinks in unison, and downed them in one quick gulp, before turning to refill their tumblers. It was going to be one of those nights.