Chapter Three
A/N: We’ll be jumping around a bit in this chapter, timeline wise. Enjoy.
Sunnydale 2003, one month earlier
Joyce stared out into the night, listening as Xander and Willow retold the tale of Spike’s visit.
“Then, he just stormed away.” Xander finished, exchanging a look with the witch. Giles was sitting in the chair next to the couch, looking at the woman in front of the couch. The last five years had aged her considerably. Deep lines of worry and sadness etched her face, and where she was once spirited, she now seemed withdrawn. He didn’t quite know what she had been hoping for, but it seemed that she had been disappointed once again.
“Y-you know, Mrs. Summers. I could do a location spell. . .” Willow started.
“No!” Joyce said sharply, turning to face the two friends. Sighing heavily, she sank down onto the couch, rubbing her eyes. “Buffy left for her own reasons.” Not the least of which was her own mother kicking her out. She brushed the tears away that had sprung to her eyes, and looked at the trio, smiling when Giles moved to sit next to her. “I want her to come home because she wants to. Not because we forced the issue. She’s not a child anymore.” She had hoped to be able to talk to Spike, let him know that he had a child. He had a right to know, and from the way Buffy acted, she wanted him to know. But, he hadn’t responded to her message to come see her, and who knew if he would come back.
“Thank you, Xander, Willow. It’s getting late.” Giles said, hinting it was time to leave.
“Oh, right. I’m just going to hit the head first.” Xander said, darting up the stairs.
“I think I’ll wait for him outside. Goodnight.” Willow gave them a tight smile, then headed towards the door.
“Goodnight, Willow.” The adults said together as the redhead let herself out.
She was pacing the length of the porch when Xander walked out, waving one last time as he shut the door.
“What the matter, Will?” He asked, following her down the steps.
“I don’t like lying.” She told him, glaring at him.
“You didn’t” He reminded her, pulling something out of his pocket.
“I don’t like you lying. You’re getting too free with it. What’s that?” She demanded, coming to a stop.
“Can you do the spell with this?” Xander asked, holding out a hairbrush. When Buffy had left, she had only grabbed a few things. Apparently the brush had slipped her notice. Willow’s eyes widened comically as she stared at the brush like it might bite her.
“What? Xander, Joyce said no spell. Or weren’t you listening?” She cried, voice shrill.
“Willow, of course she would say that. She’s Buffy’s mother. We’re her friends. It’s our duty to find her.” He justified, still holding it out. Willow looked between it and him, doubt on her face.
“Xan. I don’t know.”
“Come on, Will. Don’t you miss her?” Xander pulled out his last card to persuade her.
“Of course I do.” But, Willow had a card of her own. “She’s still pissed at you, Xander.” She reminded him, quietly. The look that crossed his face brought tears to her eyes.
“I know. But if we wait for her, I’ll never be able to tell her how sorry I am. It’s been five years already. How long are we supposed to wait?” His eyes begged her to agree. Willow felt herself crumble under the weight of her own need to see her friend, and Xander’s need for forgiveness. Sighing, she reached out and grabbed the brush.
“Fine, we’ll do it. But, if she doesn’t want to see us. We leave. Understand? She has a completely different life now.” She told him, stalking away. His smile was grim as he followed her.
San Rios, Arizona- One month later
“I don’t know what to do, Mark.” Anne sighed. They were standing outside the Glamour Factory, Anne having come in a little early to get some advice from him. She leaned against the side of the building, then crossed her arms over her chest and stared out at busy Interstate 10. Most people were heading home at this time of day. She watched the cars wiz by, like one of them would give her the answers she needed. Mark stood next to her, hands in his pockets, cigarette dangling from his lips.
“Well, when was the last time you tried to find him?”
“Almost a year ago. I called Willy, but he didn’t have anything new to say, other than he had passed through, but hadn’t gone into the bar.” She pushed a frustrated hand through her dark tresses. She had managed to get Matt calmed down enough to go to school, and once there, she had pulled the teacher aside and told her what had happened between Matt and Sam. The teacher had promised to talk to Sam, but Anne hadn’t missed the slight look of disdain on the older woman’s face. Sometimes, living in a small town was a bitch.
“That’s the third time. You think he’s going back, looking for you?”
“I guess. Willy said that he had given him the message I left. Granted, that was six months AFTER I left L. A.” She pushed away from the wall and started pacing in front of him.
“I don’t know what to tell you, sweets. Finding wayward vampires isn’t exactly my forte.” Mark said, crushing his cigarette out. “You know, I’m always willing to fill the void.” He told her quietly. She stopped pacing, and turned to stare at him. He looked away, kicking a rock with the toe of his boot. His dark hair spilled over his shoulder, hiding his face.
“Mark, I. . .” She started, then faltered. It wasn’t the first time he had offered to fill the gap in her’s and Matt’s otherwise happy lives. And it wasn’t the first time that she wished that she could accept it. He had been her best friend for four years, never judging her. She didn’t want to lose that.
“Hey, never mind. I was just kidding.” He said quickly, wanting to kick himself. He knew better than to get his hopes up on a woman who was so clearly enamored with another man. It was just, he had never met a woman like Anne before, and he had a strange feeling that he never would again.
“MARK!” A loud, booming voice came from the entrance of the club.
“YEAH!” Mark yelled back, walking towards his boss. Ralph tapped his imitation Rolex watch, indicating it was time for him to come back to work. “Alright, already. Shit.” Mark muttered, walking inside. Anne stared at his disappearing back, not noticing Ralph eyeballing her as well.
“Ah, Ms. Williams?” His sarcastic voice reached her ears, and she looked up at him. Ralph McKenzie was a short, bald man with a beer belly that protruded over the belt of his tan leisure suit. Gold glinted at his wrists and neck, and the pinky ring on his hand. “If it fits into your schedule, do you think that maybe, I dunno, you could come in and, dance, or something?” Anne rolled her eyes and hefted her bag. Taking one last look at I10, she walked inside. She never saw the black DeSoto pull into the parking lot.
~*~*~
Mark stood by the door, arms crossed over his black vested chest. He was Mr. Cover Charge tonight, since the girl who usually did it called out sick. So, he took their money, checked I. D. when necessary, and waved them through, all the while keeping an eye on the rest of the club. There were three other bouncers besides him, but only two worked during the week. One at the door, and one outside the rooms in the back, just in case some customer didn’t understand the word ‘no’. On Fridays and Saturdays, all four were there. One at the door, one on the floor, and two in the back.
Tonight, however, was your typical Tuesday. Mostly regulars, a couple of business men stopping by on the way home for a beer, and some college kids. Mark wasn’t paying much mind to the people coming in the door. He did his job automatically, his mind rehashing the way he had made an ass out of himself in front of Anne. Again. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t made her feelings for him perfectly clear. On the contrary, she was nothing if not up-front about it. He just couldn’t quite seem to let go. Sighing heavily, he turned towards the door when he heard it open.
The man that came in had him double taking, his eyes narrowing into slits. Shorter than himself, this man held an aura of danger around him like a shroud. Short, white hair was slicked back against his head, a scar sliced though his left eyebrow. A long leather duster draped over his lean frame, covering the well worn black jeans and t-shirt. Heavy combat boots adorned his feet. As he came closer to Mark, the bouncer prepared to demand I. D. Until he got a good look at his face. Mark felt his eyes widen, and his heart trip in his chest when he looked into the piercing blue eyes that he knew to belong to a smaller, younger version of this man.
*Oh, fuck!* He thought to himself, wondering if he could get Ralph to cover for a minute, so he could go find Anne.
Spike glared menacingly at the bouncer, not understanding the look on the man’s face. It almost seemed like recognition, but the blonde had no memory of him.
“Gonna take my money, mate?” *FUCK. British.* Only one more thing to be sure. When Mark reached out to grab the money from his hand, he purposely brushed his fingers across the other man’s. *Cold. Double fuck.* Blue eyes locked with brown when Spike caught on to what Mark had done. He shifted his eyes to look behind him, and saw the sharpened pool cue. When he looked back at Mark, he didn’t see any fear, or any indication that he should be ducking soon. Just that same look of shock and familiarity. “Who’s the owner of this fine establishment?” Mark’s brow shot up at the sarcasm dripping off the word.
“Guy sitting at the bar. Looks like he’s doing a bad Wayne Newton impression.” Mark told him, jerking his head towards the bar. He was cursing violently in his head, knowing he’d never get away from the door now.
“Thanks.” Spike sneered, swaggering away. Mark tried to keep an eye on him and the stage, all the while dealing with the people coming through the door. Anne’s set wasn’t starting for another half an hour, and if he could, he would shoot back to the dressing room.
Mark watched as Spike sauntered over to Ralph, and began talking to him. He saw Ralph shake his head, then Spike reached into his duster and pulled out a wad of bills, dropping them in front of the bald man. Ralph fingered the money, then looked back up at Spike. After about half a minute, he nodded, waving his hand in the direction of the rooms in the back. Spike mock saluted the man, then turned and moved towards the hall, plucking a beer off the tray of a waitress as he passed her. Ralph then pocketed the money, and got up, starting towards the dressing room.
*FUCK!*
~*~*~
“Anne, can I talk to you?” Ralph called, ignoring the indignant shouts of the other girls. She was sitting in a chair in front of the make up mirror, laughing at something Sue said.
“Yeah, what’s up?” Anne asked him. She hadn’t changed into her costume yet, and she still had on her Tombstone t-shirt and shorts. Her hair fell around her shoulders in waves, and her face was heavily made up for the stage. Sue sat next to her, her shimmering gold body suit hugging every curve. Her hair was now gold to match, as were the contacts that she wore.
“Sue, could you. . .” Ralph waved a hand, telling her to go away. With a roll of her eyes, Sue smiled at Anne and left. “A man came in here just now,” he started, not sure how to put the request. He had come to respect Anne’s temper over the years, and he didn’t feel like bearing the brunt of it.
“A man? Call the newspaper, it might be an epidemic!” she gasped, smiling wide. Her smile faded when she saw how nervous he was. When Ralph was nervous, something was not of the good. “What’s that matter?”
“This man requested to see you. In the Paradise Room.”
“Hope you told him to fuck off.” She replied icily. She could tell by the look he gave her, that he hadn’t. “Dammit, Ralph, you KNOW. . .
“I know, I know. I told him that. He swears that he doesn’t want that. He just wants to spend the evening with you. Gave me a thousand dollars for you.” Anne’s eyes widened at that, as Ralph pulled out the thick stack of bills.
“He drops a thousand dollars, and he doesn’t want to. . .” confusion marred her brow. Guys with this much money sure as hell didn’t come here. “Are you sure?”
“That’s what he said. He’s waiting for you now.” Ralph held the money out to her, his percentage already pulled off the top. She tested the wait of the money in her hand while her mind warred with itself.
“If he touches me, he’s leaving with a broken hand.” She warned, standing to start to change. She did it quickly, not giving herself time to change her mind.
“Absolutely. I’ll get Cindy to cover your set.” She nodded as he moved away, her thoughts a jumbled mess in her head.
~*~*~
Mark began cursing again when he saw Anne walking through the club, dressed in a short black skirt, and a purple spaghetti strap tank. Black high heeled boots hugged her calves to her knees. He waved, trying to get her attention before she disappeared down the hall, with no luck.
*Fuck!*
~*~*~
Anne stepped through the door of the Paradise Room, heart pounding against her chest. The smell of sex and booze permeated the room, making her stomach churn as well. She kept her eyes down as she walked down the short hall, not wanting to catch a glimpse of the varying activities that were being performed. There was barely any light in the room but she didn’t want to take any chances. The cubicles stretched from floor to ceiling, with a long curtain covering the doorway. There were about ten of them in all.
As she got closer to the one that held her visitor, she groaned as the familiar feeling washed over her. *Damn.* She cursed inwardly, now they were paying to have her dust them. A little happier now that she knew what to expect, she calculated just where every penny of the easy money was going to go. The light was even dimmer at the end of the hall, and completely nonexistent in the cubby she stepped into. Standing next to the curtain, she blinked her eyes to try to adjust them.
“You know, if you wanted to commit suicide, all you had to do was ask. You didn’t have to pay for it.” She quipped. The soft chuckle that reached her had the hairs on her arms standing on end. *No, it couldn’t be* her mind denied, but her heart screamed for it to be true. A bright flare of a lighter, followed by the smell of smoke filled the tiny space. She sucked in a gasp as the lighter brightened his features, casting the harsh lines of his face in stark relief. She stood, shocked as he flipped the lighter closed and took his first drag.
“Hello, kitten.” he crooned, the deep resonance of his voice drifting to her, over her like a caress.
“Spike.”
Sunnydale-Crawford Street Mansion 5 years earlier
Buffy backed away from the stricken face of Angel. Tears coursed down her cheeks as she pressed her hands to her mouth, forcing her scream to stay inside. He looked down at the sword imbedded in his stomach, then back at her, a combined look of hurt, shock and love on his face. As the vortex started to pull him in, a loud wail that rivaled an animal filled the room. Buffy was knocked to the floor when Dru flew passed her, Spike one step behind her. Druscilla wrapped her arms around Angel just as the vortex closed, with nothing even as dramatic as a sizzle.
“DRUSCILLA!” Spike screamed, falling to his knees in front of the spot where his dark princess disappeared. He stared in disbelief at the space that was now empty. With a sound caught between a sob and a scream, the blonde vampire launched at the statue, his first punch causing a crack around the neck, and shattering the bones of his hand. Tears coursed unnoticed down his cheeks as he assaulted the stone. His arm screamed with pain, but he didn’t care. Finally, he gave up punching and sent a powerful kick straight to the center of it’s chest, making it crack in half. It wasn’t enough.
When Spike advanced on it again, he felt a pair of tiny hands on his shoulders. He roared when Buffy flung him around, her face twisted with the same pain and grief that was tearing him apart.
“Stop! They’re gone.” She yelled, her voice raw and hoarse. “They’re gone.” she whispered again, her hand loosening on his duster, and she crumpled to the floor. A part of her brain realized that she was very likely going to get killed. But, the larger part of her didn’t care. *Let him kill me* she thought, as the pain of losing Angel threatened to cripple her. She had chosen the world over love, and nothing mattered any more.
When she felt him over her, she silently screamed thank you, and waited for the sting of his fangs in her throat. When instead she felt herself being picked up, and cradled against his chest, her eyes flew open.
“What are you doing?” she gasped, struggling weakly. His lips trembled as his own tears fell, and he glanced down at her.
“Going to clean you up.” He answered, shortly, walking up the stairs.
“Why aren’t you going to kill me?” She asked, an angry tone to her words. His lips actually quirked at that.
“You don’t want to die. Anyway, who would kill me, then?” He asked, kicking the door to his room open.
“Don’t think so. If you won’t kill me, I won’t kill you.”
“Well, I guess we have an understanding then.” Truth be told, he didn’t have a clue what he was doing. The sight of her, crumpled like a rag doll on the floor, had been enough to knock out a small portion of his own pain. He’d had to get out of that room, but also had a need not to be alone. Unlike her, he didn’t have anybody, now that his dark princess was gone. She must’ve sensed this, because she sat quietly on the bed where he placed her, and watched him move to the bathroom. He shrugged out of his duster when he returned, cursing when the arm caught on his injured hand. Snatching the first aid kit away from him, she grabbed his good hand and pulled him to the bed. He allowed her to focus her attention on his injury, hissing when she dabbed antiseptic on it. He studied the fall of her golden hair, tying to force his mind to go blank. The image of Dru’s ultimate decision kept replaying in his mind in slow motion. She only wanted her daddy.
His body started to shake as sobs tore through him again. Buffy looked up after she wrapped his hand, her own grief surging once more at the anguish etched in the vampire’s face. Before either of them realized what was happening, they were laying together on the bed, arms banded tight around each other as they cried out their pain.
At some point, they must have fallen asleep. Buffy jerked awake with start, the feel of two strong arms around her confusing her. Suddenly, memory rushed back, and hot tears spilled down her cheeks once more. She found herself looking into the bright blue eyes of her mortal enemy, the agony she felt mirrored back to her. He reached up and brushed her tears away, the feel of his cool hand against her hot face soothing.
“Shh, kitten.” He whispered, wiping the moisture from her lashes. She nuzzled her face against his hand. When he traced a finger across her lip, she felt a tremor pulse through her. She arched against him, tightening her arm around his waist. Spike watched the color of her eyes darken to emerald. “Buffy. . .” he rasped, his eyes searching hers. His body was responding to her closeness, the smell of her skin. When her hand came up to still his words, he captured it with his own, then pressed it against his lips. She shivered when she felt the tip of his tongue tease the palm of her hand.
“Just for today.” she gasped, pressing herself closer to him. “Make me forget.” He closed his eyes briefly, thinking about what she was asking. When he opened them again, the grief was stripped away, replaced by something hot and heady. She felt herself respond, her skin tingling with the look of promise in his face.
“Don’t think.” He said, before he crushed his mouth to hers. She couldn’t if she had tried. As soon as his lips touched hers, she felt like she was being burned by icy heat. She almost felt like she was drowning as his teeth nipped her bottom lip. His tongue swept across it to soothe and tease, then dipped inside to taste. At the first tentative touch of their tongues, everything but each other was forgotten. Her fingers fisted in his hair as he tried to devour her, taking everything she gave and giving back equal in return. She tasted like sunshine and life and Spike found himself desperate for more. His good hand skimmed under her shirt, his rough fingers gliding over the silken skin of her back. She trembled against him, her moan lost in his mouth.
She kissed him back hungrily, her tongue dueling with his. The term ‘homemade sin’ popped stupidly into her head, and she decided this must be what he tasted like. Nothing like anything she had tasted before. Cigarettes and beer, with a slight coppery taste combined into an intoxicating bouquet that screamed Spike. She gasped a breath as she changed the angle, deepening the kiss. Clothes suddenly became a hindrance as they tried to touch everywhere at once. The evidence of his arousal pressed firmly against her thigh, and she wanted it. Now. Tearing her mouth away from his, she pushed him onto his back, she rose above him like a goddess, her golden hair framing her flushed face. Hastily yanking her shirt over her head, she grabbed his unbandaged hand and placed it over her breast. Surging up, he caught the stiff nub of the other in his mouth, sucking hard. His hand mimicked the movements of his tongue on her flesh. She clutched the back of his head, and ground her denim covered heat into his likewise hindered erection. Mewling noises escaped her throat as he worked his magic on her breasts, his hips thrusting up in time with her movements against him. Soft growls were muffled against her skin, as his hand traveled to the band of her jeans. His mouth switched to lavish attention on the other soft swell of her bosom, and his fingers deftly popped the clasp of her pants.
“Off, now.” He hissed, releasing her so she could remove them. He sat up to do the same, and once they were both naked, they reached for each other again. Spike rolled them until she was on her back, legs wrapped firmly around his hips. He fused his mouth against hers again, his shaft sliding slickly over her burning wet sex. He pulled away from her again, trailing kisses down her torso, his destination clear. The first touch of his tongue to her aching clit almost sent Buffy over the edge immediately.
“Oh, God!” she sobbed, spreading her legs further to afford him better access, she clutched desperately at the bed. Spike took his time lapping and savoring the sweet juices pooled in her folds. Each pass of his tongue and lips over her sizzling heat caused her to jerk her hips, begging for release. Her skin felt too tight and hot, her stomach fluttered and her breathing came in gasps. She writhed helplessly beneath the expert motions of his mouth. When he gripped her thighs and drove his tongue straight into the very center of her, she screamed, high and long, back arching off the bed. Spike greedily drank all that spilled from her, then attacked her clit once more. Buffy thought it was impossible to cum again so quickly, but she found herself doing so with just a few stiff strokes of his amazing tongue. She was practically sobbing with pleasure by the time he crawled up her body and slid effortlessly into her still fluttering cunt. Their dual moans of rapture melded into one as his cool shaft stretched and filled her. Her heat scorched him, and Spike’s eyes rolled back in his head at the feel of her surrounding him. Buffy’s legs came up to lock around his hips, her hands sliding restlessly over his back. He stayed still within her, until he was sure that he wouldn’t lose control. Then, with a slow rocking motion, he began to thrust. With each plunge he pulled out just a little more, making his strokes longer, more forceful. She met him, thrust for thrust, until they were moving together in a frenzy. He buried his face in her throat, his lips and tongue laving the skin over her jugular. The thrill that he could kill her and she would be helpless to stop it pushed her over the edge. She arched against him when her climax slammed through her, her fingers pressing his lips more firmly against her flesh.
Her muscles clamped hard around him, milking him, and he roared against her throat as he stiffened against her. His cold seed shot up into her womb, cooling her from the inside out. No sooner had they calmed down, than they were at it again. Over and over they took each other, each time the grief and pain threatened to crash through, until they were both raw, and exhausted. When sleep finally claimed them, they were wrapped tightly around each other, laying on their sides, Spike stilled buried to the hilt inside of her, the twin holes of his bite already starting to heal on her neck.