Chapter 21
Author’s Note: Ok, big warning in this chapter for Sparm. The entire story itself come attached with a big Spike/other warning, but since some of the readers might be a little too sensitive to this I’m just giving them another heads-up, so please don’t come crying to me saying that the chapter was too painfull or disgusting to read. You have been warned, plus please keep in mind that you can always quit reading the story. No one’s forcing you to read it. I don’t want to sound bitchy at all. I understand that most people who read Spuffy fic, want read Spuffyness and not about any other couple, especially not one that inclueds either Buffy or Spike. So if you think you can’t stand the thought of Spike shagging someone else I would advise you to not read this chapter, and probably not read the fic at all. Believe me this is not the story for you. If you think that Sparm is yucky but you can take it, feel free to continue reading. 😉
She pressed her fingers against her ears, trying to block out the loud music as she jogged down the steps, and walked away from the house.
“Damn it.” She cursed under her breath when she stumbled on her long black dress and her pointy hat threatened to fall.
Securing it back in its place with one hand, she held the cell phone to her ear with the other.
“Come on, come on. Pick up.” Willow hissed into the cell phone.
After a few seconds, her wish was granted.
“Hello?” Buffy answered.
“Buffy, it’s me, Willow. You won’t-“
“Willow? Finally, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you since last night!” The words rushed out of her mouth cutting Willow off. “You won’t believe who was the mystery guest.” She didn’t even give Willow the chance to guess. “It was Spike!”
“What?!” Willow asked in shock.
“Yes!”
“Spike was the secret date that came to dinner last night?” Willow felt the urge to confirm, maybe she hadn’t heard correctly. She was out of the house but the music was still pretty loud, plus… It couldn’t be! It just couldn’t. Spike and Mrs. Summers? That was just… too gross for words. Sure, Mrs. Summers was still young and Spike was probably in his mid-twenties-
Buffy’s reply cut short her train of thought: “I was getting changed when all of a sudden Spike burst into my room.” Buffy continued.
“Wait a minute! Spike saw you naked?”
“What?! No, God no! I was wearing a towel which, come to think of it, isn’t all that good either. The guy just kept ogling.” She wrinkled her nose in fake disgust as she spoke.
“Oh my God!” Willow exclaimed.
“I know!”
“That double-faced, deceitful, little weasel.” Willow growled.
“Uh, yeah, I know.” Buffy agreed, but couldn’t help frowning at Willow’s harsh reaction.
“That… that… grrr.” She growled once again.
“W-willow. Are you ok? It’s kinda wrong to ogle, I mean, I should know, I was the object of the ogling, but it’s not *that* bad, right?”
Did I just defend Spike?’ Buffy asked herself.
“Oh, it’s not that. I-It’s just…” Nervousness and awkwardness settle into Willow’s voice as she tried to find the words. “I really don’t know how to say this…”
Buffy frowned again.
“Willow? What happened?”
There was a moment of pause before Willow blurted out:
“Spike’s cheating on your mother.”
Willow inhaled sharply as she waited for Buffy’s reaction.
“What?”
“Spike’s cheating on your mother. God, that is probably the strangest thing I’ve ever had to say.” Willow said, more to herself than to the person on the other side of the line.
“N-no. Willow, you didn’t get it. My mom’s not dating Spike.” Buffy started explaining while her mind continued to assimilate the consequences of Willow’s statement. ‘Spike’s dating again?’
It was Willow’s turn to come to a halt and frown.
“What do you mean? You said-“
“He did come over for dinner but he’s not dating my mom. They know each other from the hospital, when my mom went in for the surgery.” Her stomach turned a bit when the memories of those days flooded back to her.
“Oh!” Willow muttered. This was too much information to be absorbed all at once. “So Spike and your mom aren’t dating?”
“No.”
“Oh, thank God. Cause if it was true it would be just too weird.” Willow exhaled in relief.
“Yeah, I know.” Buffy paused for a second, unsure whether or not to bring up the subject. So what if Spike was dating someone, what did she care? Before she could think about it any longer the question escaped her lips. “So… why’d you think that Spike was cheating on my mom?”
“I just saw him with Harmony a second ago. That’s why I was calling you.”
“Oh… And you think they’re back together?”
‘Did that sound too interested?’ Buffy wondered in her mind. ‘So what? I’m worried about my roommate. That’s normal, right? I’m a concerned friend. Ok, friend is a stretch. I’m concerned roommate.’ Buffy unconsciously nodded once she finished her reasoning.
“Well, they must be. One minute I’m in the middle of a party talking to an extremely depressed Harmony, the next Spike shows up, wraps his arms around her waist, whispers something in her ear and off they go, rushing out of the house, stumbling over one another like two very desperate virgins on prom night.” Willow painted a clear picture.
There were a few seconds of silence on the line.
‘Spike and Harmony are back together.’ Buffy conceded.
“Buffy? Did you hear what I said?”
“What?” She shook her head lightly as she tried to focus her attention on Willow’s question. “Yeah, yeah I did.”
Willow frowned.
“Are you ok?”
“Of course! Why wouldn’t I be?” Buffy asked nonchalantly.
“It’s just that you suddenly went all silent-Bob on me.”
“Just thinking about the long, torturous nights of listening to Harmony moan and groan, that’s all.”
The silence settled in once more.
“Well, I should go. Tara’s waiting for me at the party.” Willow said as her eyes turned to the intensely lit house.
“Ok. Have fun.” Buffy replied with little enthusiasm.
“Thanks. Happy Halloween!”
“Happy Halloween.”
Willow pressed the button on her cell phone, pulled at her long black dress and held her pointy hat in place as she started to walk back into the house.
“Why did I agree to dress as a witch?” Willow muttered to herself, as she walked off into the night.
The phone in Buffy’s hand beeped for a couple of minutes before she realised that Willow had already hung up.
‘Spike and Harmony. Back together.’
~+~
The two stumbled into the apartment as the door finally opened. The sound of harsh pants and moans filled the previously silent living room.
Harmony struggled with the difficult task of pulling the key from the lock, while Spike’s mouth attacked the back of her neck, his hands roaming frantically up and down her torso. Eventually, with some effort, she was able to free the key and kick her door closed.
She gasped for air when he spun her around and slammed her back against the door, her eyes widening at the fervour of his assault on her body. For a few seconds her mind wondered what had spurred such appetite in him. He had been so distant their last week together, avoiding any contact with her and when they finally got things going, well… little Spike hadn’t been up to the task. Why the sudden change? Why…
Her mind blurred, and all thoughts seemed to melt away under the ministrations of his hands. God, she missed those hands!
“Oh, Spike!” She moaned as he nibbled on her neck.
She opened her eyes and frowned when she found herself staring up at the ceiling. Gasping, she turned left to find she was now lying on the floor, in the middle of the living room. Hadn’t she been pressed up against the front door just a second ago? But she didn’t care. Spike was lying on top of her, his hand bunching her short skirt up her thighs and pulling her thong down her legs. That was all that mattered.
~+~
Spike pulled hard breaths from his lungs as he watched her panties slide down her legs. After more than two weeks of forced celibacy he was going to have sex. God, he missed sex!
Two weeks of agonizing terror were over. He shook his head, trying not to dwell on the cause of his… problem and the eventual solution.
‘Why her?’
Why was it that having Harmony stark naked, sitting on his lap, rubbing herself against him didn’t work and yet within two second of seeing *her* wrapped in a towel she had him harder than he could remember being.
‘Why her?’ His mind growled at him as he fumbled with the buttons of his denims.
“Here, let me help you with that.” For some reason Harmony’s voice, seemed higher and more shrieked than before.
‘Why her?!’ A part of him insisted, but he pushed the thought away.
He was cured now, that was all that mattered and dammed him if he wasn’t going to take full advantage of it.
His hands dropped to the sides of her head, supporting his weight while Harmony worked on the fastening of his jeans. He stared down at her, but he didn’t see her, instead the picture of a small blonde wrapped in a nothing but a towel drifted back into his mind. He snapped his eyes shut.
‘Go away!’
The feel on his jeans sliding down his legs, brought him back to the reality of the moment – He was in a darkened room, lying on the floor, on top of a panting Harmony, with his denims bunched up around his ankles.
‘Action time. Nothing else to do but fuck her.’
He glanced down, he wasn’t completely hard yet.
‘Bollocks!’
Looking up, he found a trace of disappointment over Harmony’s face.
‘God, not again. Please, not again.’ He begged in his mind.
And then her hand crept down his stomach, to dive between his thigh and brush against him. His eyelids fell closed.
‘That’s it, baby.’ He coaxed her mentally while she wrapped her hands around his semi-erect cock and started to stroke it.
Closing his eyes, he let his elbow drop, holding his entire weight on his forearm, while his other hand came down to play with her breasts.
They stayed that way for a while, rubbing, fondling, trying to wheedle him into action.
After five minutes he growled and suddenly pushing himself off of her, standing up abruptly.
“Blood hell!” He roared in anger and frustration, pulling up his jeans while he walked around the room.
Harmony sighed, sitting up with a pout over her lips as she watched him kick and push the couch. What was wrong with him? There had to be something wrong with him, because she was definitely still hot. There had been a moment a week ago, when she had questioned her hotness. Maybe she had gotten fat. But tonight, as she stood in front of the mirror getting the final touches on her school girl Halloween costume she was sure she was still sizzling hot. So, it only left one option – it was his fault, not hers. She provided the hotness; he should be more than ready to provide the… hardness.
She stood up, buttoning up her white shirt with one hand while pulling down her miniature skirt.
“What is wrong with me?” He continued to growl, plopping down the couch. “I was fixed. I was sure I was fixed.” His anger seemed to slowly melt away to be replaced by anguish and self-pity.
“Oh, Spikey!” Harmony purred, coming to sit next to him. “Maybe you’re just tired from working too hard.” She paused, resting on her words for a moment. Did he work? Suddenly, she realised she didn’t even know what he did for a living.
‘Strange.’ She thought for a second, but then shrugged it off.
“Work? I haven’t done anything in almost two weeks! How can I be tired?” He responded with a semi-pout. “All I can think is that I might never have sex again! God! I need a drink.” He grumbled. “Do you have anything?”
“Not really.” Harmony replied. “Oh! Wait, I think I’ve got…”
She trailed off, jumping off the couch and skipping her way to her bedroom.
“I’m probably neutered for life and she’s bouncing. Bloody fantastic!” He grumbled, watching as she came back seconds later with a bottle in hand. “What’s that?”
“A bottle of whiskey I got from Carrie last year.” She started giddily, like a six year-old who is about to tell a dirty secret. “She said it was-“
“Great. Tell Carrie I said thanks.” He roared cutting her rambling short and yanking the bottle from her hand.
“Rude much?” She protested, taking her place on the couch next to him and watching him as he tipped the bottle and partially gobbled up its content.
Dropping it back down, his face contorted as the harsh liquid burned its way down his oesophagus.
“Yuck!” She made a face at the spectacle before her.
“Good; not yuck.” He corrected offering her the bottle.
She stared at it for a couple of seconds and then shrugged. Why not? Since she wasn’t going to get laid tonight she might as well get smashed.
Hesitantly, she took a sip and immediately let out a sickened shriek, practically throwing the bottle in his direction.
“That’s disgusting.”
He shook his head and ignored her, picking up the whiskey and bringing it up to his lips.
Half a bottle later…
“It’s her fault.” He suddenly spoke, breaking the silence that had settled between them for the last fifteen minutes.
“Huh?” A half-awake Harmony asked.
God, she was bored. She never thought Spike could actually be boring but he was. For the first half hour all he had done was moan and groan about never being able to have sex again, how life wasn’t worth living if ‘a bloke couldn’t have a decent shag every once in a while’. She had sat next to him, stroking his chest, giving him little kisses over his neck, making it absolutely obvious she wanted sex and he just went on and on, talking and gulping down that disgusting brew. And after the moping, came the silence, she was half-asleep when he finally spoke.
“It’s all her fault.” He repeated not very articulately. The alcohol swimming in his head made it difficult to form words. “It’s her fault I can’t have sex.” He explained with a pout.
‘Who is he talking about?’ Her sleep-filled mind wondered while he continued:
“Her, with her holier-than-thou attitude… her stupid upturned nose and her stupid… hair.” He whinged in a hoarse voice.
‘It’s his mother.’ She concluded, remembering what little she could of her psych 101 classes. ‘It’s always the mother.’
In the meantime, Spike’s inebriated mind continued to drift. Unable to form coherent trains of thought, it released fragments of ideas into his consciousness.
“Stupid towel… made me think I was fixed.” He grumbled.
‘Ok, one more try and that’s it!’ She decided, ignoring him and dropping onto her knees in front of him.
Spike remained unaware as she unzipped his pants.
“Stupid eyes…” He mumbled. “Stupid- Harm?” He wondered, looking at his lap with a frown over his brows. “Harm, what are you…” He trailed off at the feel of her fingers brushing through the thick, dark curls that sprung from the opened fastening of the jeans. “Harm, just give it a rest will you? I’m broken.” He growled, in a mixture anger and desperation.
He squinted in the dark room, the only light coming from the table lamp near the couch; his eyes straining to focus on his groin.
His eyes closed at the feel of soft lips grazing below his navel. That felt nice… pity it didn’t… His mind trailed off as his eyelids opened once again and his drunken gaze found an anonymous mass of blonde hair settled between his thighs.
“Harm?” He questioned. There was no answer but a soft moan. ‘Perfect.’
His hand carefully moved over the small head, fingers diving between the locks of hair. Slowly, the hair seemed smoother than before, the weak orange light coming from the lamp serving to make the strands look darker, not the pale and dry blonde that Harmony sported but a sweet, honey-coloured glow, just like… *hers*.
‘God, what are you thinking?’ Spike’s intoxicated mind asked. But the question remained unanswered as his body started to respond to the attention of a hot and wet mouth.
He hissed, clenching his jaw shut at the feel of a moist tongue wrapping itself around his cock.
“Bloody hell…” He gasped as her mouth took him in.
With some effort he opened his eyes to look down, feeling himself harden under the burning heat.
‘What’s…?’ Still his mind tried to make some sense of what was going on, but to no avail. He was too drunk to focus his eyes on the head that now bobbed up and down over his groin, let alone think straight.
“Fuck it.” He growled, picking up the anonymous blonde at his feet and dragging her up to the couch.
“Ah!” Harmony protested; the surprise movement and his lack of coordination landing her face-down on the sofa. “Sp-” She was immediately silenced by a strong hand covering her mouth and a heavy, hard body pressed against her back.
“Shhh-” He ordered, one of his hands remaining over her lips while the other slid between their bodies to find the curve of her ass. “Keep quiet.”
Harmony gasped into his hand when cold fingers once again slipped between her thighs, finding the frail fabric of her thong, hooked themselves around it and pulled it aside to expose her to him.
Clumsily, he dragged his body over hers, burying her under his weight as he pushed his legs between hers; his face buried in her hair.
‘Wrong scent…’ A primitive part of his mind whispered, and it was true – the odor was too heavy, too strong.
He shook his head, pushing away the nagging thought.
“Fuck the scent.” He growled between clenched teeth.
“Wha- Ah!” Her muffled question was cut short by her own gasp when she felt him drive into her with one sharp push of his hips.
One hand abandoned her mouth and fisted itself into her hair, the other wrapped around her waist in a frustrated attempt at holding her up as he started to move in hard and speedy thrusts.
In his drunken haze, the sounds she made seemed distant; the usual high-pitch cries now dimmed into soft, barely audible moans and he found himself slowing down, his strokes longer.
‘Just like *she* would- God! What are you thinking?!’ He growled in his mind, driving hard into the warm body underneath him and eliciting a sharp ‘Oh my God!’ from it.
He tried to keep his mind a blank and his pace hard. It didn’t take long for him to realise he wasn’t going to be successful at either task. Bit by bit, the shrieking sounds and the anonymous body transformed in his drunken state, giving way to soft gasps and a familiar, leaner and smaller form. Soon he gave up struggling against it, relenting to the tempting idea that it could be… *her*.