Part 8
Spike refused to tell Buffy where he was taking her, and Buffy found her nerves rocketing off into unchartered territory. Geez, she was the slayer, for crying out loud. He was a vampire. So why was she so damn nervous? That non-verbal thingy Spike was doing, he was doing it to be annoying, she finally decided. When she didn’t want his input, he never shut up. But now, when she could actually usethe distraction of his snarky little comments, he clammed up. Stupid, annoying, vampire. Why was she even blinding following him anyway?
Oh right, she was an idiot. Well, nothing new there. Really, she hadn’t even considered NOT going with him, even though she knew this was IT. The moment. The maiden voyage. As in, no more Virgin Buffy after tonight…, and oh god, did he know that? That she was a virgin? What the hell was she doing? Did she really want this?
She took a moment to really think about it, and to check with all those in current residence of Casa de Buffy. ‘Slayer Buffy, you ready to lose your virginity to Spike? You know, vampire Spike?’ she asked herself derisively, because hey, if Spike wouldn’t do the talking thing, she might as well talk to herself.
To her surprise, her slayer self actually responded. Huh. Throw a bit of color on her surprise, because she had no idea she could actually TALK to it, like it had a voice or anything. Figures it picked this one particularly delicious subject to speak up on. And what it said shocked the hell out of her. It practically shouted “Oh, bring that primal piece of hunky goodness on.” Whoa. She had no idea her slayer-ness was such a total slut bag. Of course, it HAD been around for, like, ever. And gee, how shocking was it that her slayer-ness had kept its cryptic mouth shut all those times she had done the major questioning thing of herself and her Chosen status? So typical. But, at least she had one ball in her court.
Ok, so Slayer Buffy wanted Spike. One down, two to go. Buffy went on to the next contestant in her virtual Mating Game. ‘Elizabeth Buffy, are you ready to lose your virginity to Spike, er, Willie?”
Again, truly not expecting a reply, but now not making with the amazed when one was forthcoming. However, it was the content that shocked her. Apparently, Miss. Elizabeth had lost more than a scant amount of Victorian values over the last few hundred years, now big with the scandalous. Not that Buffy really blamed her. If she had to wait that long to get it on with Spike, she’d probably be talking like a total ho bag too.
With realization suddenly dawning on her, she was aware that she had just gotten an answer from Contestant number three, making it an unanimous decision. She wanted Spike. ALL of her wanted Spike.
Feeling much better, now that she had taken care of that little inner turmoil, and gotten to know her internal roomies a bit in the process, a spring crept unknowingly into her step, and a small satisfied smile graced her full lips.
“What was all that about?”
“Huh? All what?”
“Looked to me like you were having a wee bit of a conversation with yourself.” The look on his face surprisingly didn’t border on the amused, more on the intense side. Was he always so intense? She couldn’t remember.
“You’re right, I was.” At the look her gave her which oddly looked nervous, she hurried to assure him, “Don’t worry, I’m still all with following you anywhere. Well, within reason, of course.”
He stopped and flashed her that dead sexy grin that always sent a bolt of electricity right to the pit of her stomach. Was it possible for a smile to conduct electricity? Wow. Because Spike could sure be handy during a power outage, and ok, so she was really babbling. Why was he looking at her like that?
“We’re here, pet,” he informed her softly, his eyes lighting up with barely restrained anticipation.
“Here?” she echoed dumbly. Ach, she had to stop with the monosyllable not-so-witty replies. Yes, she did have her blonde moments, but the way she had been behaving lately, every waking moment had been a blonde moment. One looooong blonde moment. Even she was capable of better. She tore her gaze away from that supercharged, megawatt grin and looked over. Oh. A door. Wow. “Where are we again?”
“My place.”
“You have a place?”
“Didn’t think I’d take my girl to flea bag motel, did ya? Of course I have a place. Where do you think I bloody hang my hat? Oh buggarin’ hell. Forget I just said that.” His self disgust was in high evidence.
And just like that, the growing tension was broken, and the better Buffy, the one who was capable of better forms of conversation, came out to play. Leaning forward, she allowed her arms to snake around his neck while coyly peering up into his slightly surprised face. “So, Spike. I just have to ask. DO you have a hat?”
A derisive snort erupted from his throat, as he jammed his key into the lock and threw the front door open. Ignoring the peals of laughter behind him, he grabbed her hand and jerked her over the threshold. “Better get your ass in here, Slayer.”
“Well, do you?” she persisted, following Spike into his house, a grin lighting up her face.
“Not bloody answering that.”
“You DO!!!” Buffy exclaimed, clapping her hands in potent delight. “Can I see it?”
The glower he sent in her direction was almost comical. “Oh, come on!!! I thought we were all couple-y now. Don’t want me to think you were hiding things from me, do you? Huh? I mean, you obviously went and bought it and everything.”
“Dru got it for me last year.” He stalked across the room and threw open the door to the hall closet, rummaging through its contents. Buffy could see boxes practically bursting the seams of the small closet, and briefly wondered how anything could survive being squished in such a manner. Not like she had room to talk, her closet at home wasn’t exactly a contender for the Good Closetkeeping of America award. Well, if there was such a thing.
“I had wondered what possessed Dru to get me the bloody thing, then she threw such a fit when I tried to get rid of it. I just figured she was off her bird or something, as usual. She’d make me wear the bloody thing, then sit and laugh. Thought the bitch was just making fun at my expense, yet again.” Spike’s spoke in a distracted manner as he searched through the boxes.
“You think she knew?”
“Yeah, I think she soddin’ well knew. It’s why she left without much of a fuss. Just looked at me sadly and said it was time. I was too messed up from the bloody spell to argue, then when I came to my senses, I didn’t really care much at all.” Buffy could tell by his body language that he had found it. He threw her a sultry look over his shoulder, asking in a light, teasing tone, “You ready, luv?”
A greedy smile of anticipation curved across her lips, and she nodded eagerly. “Bring it on, baby.”
Keeping his back to her, he slid the black Stetson onto his head, tipping the brim down low over his eyes in instinctual deference to the non existent harsh rays of sunlight, before turning to face Buffy slowly.
Her breath hitched in a sudden choked gasp, as a sudden image flickered and stuck in her mind, pale in intensity, but packing a powerful punch. She hadn’t realized she had dropped back a step, as past and present collided in what was usually called her brain on a good day. There he was. Sheriff Wallopin Willie Lyndon, in the almost flesh.
The eyes were different. They should be hard flints of grey, piercing when they were pinned on her, darkening to near black when aroused by the intensity of his emotions. The nose had been more pronounced, with multiple knobs along the bridge that were not the result of genetics, but worn with pride as a testament of altercations fought and won. Rather than detracting, they just added character.
But the sharp chiseled bones and the mouth were the same. Or almost. Because well, it just wasn’t Spike. But it was pretty close.
Just as quickly as the image butt smacked her brain, it was gone; leaving her with a goofy grin splattered on her face. He was watching her, studying her face closely, his head tipped at just the slightest degree, guaranteed to make her sigh with major swoonage.
Speaking of swoonage, it was then that she realized it. The weird feelings that had been persisting since the spell, those wonky feeling of a delicate, well-mannered body invasion were… gone. Cool. And even cooler? She still wanted the major display of cheekboney goodness in front of her. it wasn’t just the spell.
The goofy grin fled, to be replace by her second coy smile of the evening as she closed the distance that separated them with a sashaying tease of her hips. “Hey blondie. Let’s wrassle.”
Spike’s thoughtful look turned into one sizzling with all kinds of promises of good things to come, and Buffy succumbed. Big time. She was all kinds of succumb girl, as Spike reached for her.