Chapter Eight
Yawning widely, Buffy walked slowly down the street. A plastic bag full of doggie bath, a flea collar, and dog food swung loosely in her hand. She had just gotten off work, with a brief stop at the pet store to get some stuff for Sid. She had realized, when she woke up to get ready for work, that she didn’t have anything to feed him. Luckily, he seemed to like the dry bowl of Cocoa Puffs just fine. When she had left, she’d left him in the back yard, setting a bowl of water down by the kitchen porch. He had looked at her with his wide, sad brown eyes as she walked to the gate, and Buffy had to restrain herself from calling in to work.
She had resisted going home to check on him after she had gotten off work to go meet Spike. She knew the vampire would start to worry if she didn’t show up within a reasonable time, and she had managed to convince herself that Sid would be fine. He had managed to survive this long living in a cemetery with Spike, so a few hours in the back yard shouldn’t be a problem.
An image of the bleach blonde shifted through her mind, causing a smile to slip across her face. It was a nice picture too. Shirtless and mussed, his lips swollen from her kisses. She felt her skin start to heat as she remembered their interrupted passion play on the couch that morning. She had thought of that all day, whenever the horror tried to weasel its way into her mind. But, even with delicious images of half naked Spike, she couldn’t quite dispel the fear that had been tagging along with her.
The fact that somebody was breaking into her house to leave her gifts, the same someone that had been butchering girls with the misfortune to resemble her, wigged her out more than any Hell beastie she had ever faced. It was easy to look at a demon and think ‘evil, must slay.’ Humans were the beings she was supposed to PROTECT from the demons. And now, someone was killing girls BECAUSE of her. The guilt and weight of responsibility that put on her were immense. She was scared, and that was a feeling she didn’t like. She hadn’t felt anything like this since Dawn got taken by Glory. Not even when her mom got sick compared to this. How do you fight something you can’t see?
In between her Spike fantasies, she had tried to figure out who would do this. Angelus popped to mind immediately. But, he would have let her know it was him. Riley was another possibility. But she dismissed almost as quickly as she had dismissed Xander’s image from the list. Oz had been dismissed even more quickly than the prior two. If, by some chance he had gone all nuts, he would have gone after Willow, or Tara. Not the Slayer. Even Parker had been a consideration, but she’d had to fight off a wave of giggles with that one. Besides, he’d known nothing about her nightly activities. The thought that Spike had done it in some attempt to play the hero and get into her pants had wormed its way through her brain, only to be discarded. Spike was nothing if not direct, and this was so not his style.
Every man she had ever known flitted through her brain, but she had refused to believe it was any of them. She knew she was working in the land of denial, but how do you convince yourself that someone you know, someone you love, could be a killer? Of course, that brought to mind Angel and Spike, but, she knew they were killers. She probably knew their killing habits better than they did after reading that book.
Sighing, Buffy started to walk a little faster, the need to see Spike becoming stronger with each step she took. Several times, she had glanced over her shoulder, the constant feeling of being watched never leaving her. But every time she turned, all she saw was the usual couples, groups of kids and the occasional person just walking home, or wherever their destination might be.
She turned around with disgust, thinking idly that serial killers should be born with some disfigurement to make them identifiable. Thinking that, she remembered a movie that she and Willow had watched one night before Glory had reared her badly permed head. They had marveled at how Harry Connick jr. could look so hot in other movies, but in this one, he had given them the serious wiggins. His very demeanor screamed, ‘Stay Away’. But the other one, the one who had been doing the copy cat killing, had been normal looking with glasses and blonde hair. And really cute too.
Scowling in disgust, she walked into the Bronze, the pulsating music beat through her, making her veins seem to throb as it filled the air around her. She immediately began to seek him out, smiling when she saw him by the pool tables hustling some unsuspecting college boys. He looked up when she walked over, winking as he sank a difficult shot, winning the game. The males around him scowled and cussed, handing over the money they had foolishly bet with some reluctance. His grin was wicked as he took their money, than turned away to wrap an arm around Buffy and pull her close for a kiss. This caused the men to scowl once more, taking in the beautiful young woman in her slim black skirt, and soft white sweater. Why was it that guys like him always got the good ones?
Buffy and Spike ignored them as they stormed away, to intent on the play of each others’ mouths across their own. Her smile was almost dreamy when she pulled away.
“Scamming the locals again?” she teased, pulling the money out of his hand to count it. Her eyes bugged when she counted close a thousand dollars.
“Have to get my evil kicks some way.” He said with a smirk, pulling his cigarette out of his pocket. She slipped the money into his duster, taking the lighter from him and lighting the cigarette herself.
“I suppose I can allow some harmless hustling. Definitely not something I need to slay you for.” She said, but he saw the hint of uncertainty in her eyes.
“I told you once, luv. I haven’t even tried. And I won’t.” He assured, blowing a plume of smoke over her head before leaning in to kiss her again. The bag she was holding bounced against his thigh, and he pulled away to look at it. “What’s that?”
“Some things for Sid. Come on, you can help me give him a bath, He is one stinky dog.” The look on Spike’s face made her giggle.
“Oh, joy. I’d rather give you a bath.” He purred, his arm coming to rest around her shoulder as she led him through the crowd and out into the night. Neither had felt the eyes burning into their retreating forms. Neither noticed the man storming past them through the door to stalk unseeing into the night. So entranced in Buffy’s scent of vanilla and spice, Spike never caught the whiff of a killer.
~*~*~
Rage burned bright and hot through his veins as he made his way blindly down the street. Questions swirled through his mind that only caused his anger and hatred to increase. Over and over they screamed through him, making him doubt his faith in her. His faith in his love for her.
How could something so pure, so perfect, want that things hands on her? He remembered the look on her face when she turned into Spike’s kiss, welcoming the taint of his lips against hers. She had read the book, knew that his chip was out. Why wasn’t she giving him his one way ticket to Hell?
He stopped walking, and turned to stare into the window of a darkened store. His hands were buried deep in his pockets, and a scowl darkened his handsome features. His mind was ablaze with dark delicious images. She was no better than those other whores, he decided. But even as he thought it, everything in his being rebelled against it. Madness and confusion danced through him, deepening the need to hurt, destroy. Anything to release this blackness building within him.
He turned and started walking again, impervious to the people around him. He missed the appreciative looks from the women, the annoyed looks from the men. There was something about a dangerous looking man that commanded attention. And he had it rolling off him in waves.
She had to be taught a lesson that was all. She just didn’t realize that she belonged to him. She was HIS salvation, his beacon of light. She couldn’t sully herself with that . . . THING.
His thoughts tumbled around in his head, jumping from one extreme to the next. Never settling on one long enough to gel into a real revelation. The only thing that kept slamming into the forefront was that he needed to find a way to remove the vampire from the equation. Fighting him was out of the question. Spike was strong, quick and clever. He would defend himself to the death, especially if he had hope with Buffy.
His head was down as he walked, so he didn’t see her until they collided. He scrambled to help her up, slipping easily into the goofy charm that had served him well in his life.
“Hey, I’m sorry. You all right?” He asked, flashing her a self-deprecating smile. He pulled her easily to her feet, silently thanking whoever that California had an overabundance of blondes. Unfortunately, her eyes were a pale brown, but, he could make due.
“No, it’s okay. I’m fine.” She said, dusting herself off. She offered him a shy smile, thinking to herself that he had beautiful eyes.
“I’m really sorry.” He said again, bending to help her retrieve her books.
“Thanks.” She said, taking them from him.
“No problem. Hey, can I buy you a cup of coffee? It’s the least I can do for running you over.” She studied him for a minute, taking in the kind eyes and the sweet smile. He was cute, and he seemed nice.
“Sure. My name’s Veronica.” She said as they started down the street together.
“Hello, Veronica. My name’s Jesse.”
~*~*~
Buffy sat helplessly on the bathroom floor, her hands banded around her stomach as she fought to control the laughter that was bubbling from her lips. Spike sat on the closed toilet, scowling. One hand was braced against his knee, and the forearm of his other was leaning across the other one. She looked up at him and burst into another fit of giggles at the sight of his soaked clothing, ripped T-shirt, and wildly curling platinum curls.
“I’m glad you find this so amusing, pet. Next time, you can hold the bloody dog.” He snarled, glaring at the now clean Sid as he regarded the two human types. Sid cocked his head to the side at the menace in his master’s tone, then turned his brown eyes to regard the near hysterical Slayer on the floor.
“I. . .I’m s-sorry.” She hiccupped, not looking the least apologetic. Sid had not taken kindly to the thought of getting in the bath. In fact, after Buffy had led him into the bathroom, he had taken one look at the water filled tub, and Spike standing next to it trying to urge him in, and bolted. He had led them on a merry chase through the house, their preternatural speed doing nothing to help them in the pursuit of the dog. Spike had finally cornered him in the kitchen, lunging and capturing the reluctant mutt in his arms. He’d kept firm hold on the struggling mass of fur all the way up the stairs.
“The lady says you need a bath, so in you go.” He told Sid firmly, dropping the dog into the warm water. Immediately, he jumped back out, only to be thwarted by the closed bathroom door. Spike grabbed him again, pulling him back to the water. The dog struggled so much, that both he and Spike wound up in the water, the resulting splash soaking the floor and surrounding area. Spike grappled with the dog while Buffy quickly swooped in to pour the shampoo on him. It was a race to get him washed and rinsed before he managed to get away again. Spike cursed violently, and creatively, as Sid’s claws sliced through his T-shirt and into the skin of his chest and stomach.
As soon as Buffy was done, he let Sid go. He immediately jumped out of the water, shaking his body to rid himself of the excess moisture. This action soaked the rest of the bathroom, and Buffy as well. She had squealed, holding the towel she intended to dry him with in front of her like a shield. Her laughter had only increased when she had glanced at the drenched vampire, the scowl on his face doing nothing to dispel her merriment. He had crawled out of the tub, dripping even more water onto the floor, shaking his head in imitation of Sid, spraying Buffy even more. She had sunk to the floor as her laughter over took her. The sight of the pissed of, drowned looking vamp struck her as highly entertaining. Not even the sight of the welts through the tatters of his T-shirt could break through her mirth.
When she had finally calmed, she moved to Sid, and began drying him off. Luckily, he decided to sit still. Spike stripped off his shirt while she did this, cursing yet again at the angry red marks across his chest.
“Bloody dog.” He hissed, glaring at Buffy when she chortled again.
“What’s the matter, Spikey? The Big Bad can’t handle one little dog?” She taunted, not realizing her mistake until she felt his hands seize around her waist. “What are . . . ” was all she got out before she found herself submerged in the dog scented, soapy water. She came up sputtering, pushing her wet hair out of her face. Spike was bent over, his own laughter echoing in the tiny room. A cat like grin spread across her face, then her hand shot out and grabbed the band of his jeans.
“Bloody hell.” He yelled, as he quickly joined her in the water. The bathroom was now completely dripping from the tidal wave his body caused. He growled loudly as the water permeated his body once more. But the feel of Buffy’s warm hand sliding across his wet chest turned it into a purr.
“This place is mess.” She gasped, shifting so he was settled against her more comfortably.
“Yeah.” He said, making no move to get up. She sighed and leaned back, not caring that she was sitting in water that stank of wet dog, or the fact that it had about five years worth of dirt floating in it. All she cared about was the feel of his hard length leaning into her, and the way his skin felt under her hands. Sid sat next to the bathroom door, watching them as they settled into each other. He began scratching at the door, begging to be released from the torture chamber. They glanced over at him when he began to whine. Sighing, Spike stood and got out, then turned to help Buffy out.
“You start to clean this up, I’ll go change and try to find something for you to wear.” She said, chuckling. He scowled yet again, but pulled the towels off the bar to start drying the mess, emptying the tub before he started. When she returned a few minute later, still dressed in her sodden clothes, he quirked his scarred brow at her.
“Thought you were going to change?” he asked, wiping up the last of the water from the floor.
“Wet dog smell. So not appealing.” She said, wrinkling her nose. Spike took a long look at her, and felt himself harden in response. The white T-shirt and shorts that she had changed into before they started clung to her body, forming against the curves of her frame. Her dark nipples poked through the thin material, making his mouth go dry. He could see the shadowy outline of her panties, teasing him with the knowledge of what was beneath. Her golden hair curled around her tan face, her hazel eyes wide as she watched him rake his eyes over her. Her breathing had picked up, and the smell of her arousal floated over the smell of dog and soap. She gasped audibly when he crossed the short distance between them, crushing his mouth with hers in a possessive kiss. Her fingers clutched helplessly at his bare shoulders as his tongue swept inside to plunder her mouth. She pressed her body closer to his as she kissed him back, the feel of her wet breasts against him causing him to moan. He pulled away from her to allow her to breathe, resting his forehead against hers as he too panted with the intensity of his love and want for her.
“I’d say you’re pretty damn appealing.” He whispered, his husky voice sending shivers across her skin. She looked up at him, her eyes luminous, and filled with desire. The shrill sound of the phone ringing jolted them out of their erotic haze. Cursing Dawn for her timing, Buffy extracted herself from his embrace moved to answer it.
“Hello.” She hissed, expecting to hear her sister’s too happy voice on the other end.
“Bitch!” The word was like a slap in the face, dispelling all the happiness she had been feeling and dropping her back into the middle of reality. Her fingers tensed around the receiver, and her heart started to pound erratically in her chest. She didn’t notice Spike coming up behind her, or his hand resting lightly on her wet shoulder.
“Who is this?” She demanded, cursing inwardly when her voice shook.
“You were supposed to be different.” His voice was a harsh whisper, making it impossible to recognize.
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re no better than any of the others.”
“You mean those poor girls you killed?” Her voice cracked on this. Her entire body was trembling, and she suddenly felt cold. Fear slid slickly through her veins, and it angered her. Spike pulled her back against his chest, cradling her in his arms, lending her strength.
“Those sluts were nothing. NOTHING! I was trying to show you . . . ” he trailed off, his words choking in his throat.
“Show me what? That you’re a fucking psychopath? I think, the only reason you haven’t come after me yet, is because you know you can’t take me. You play around at being a man, thinking you’re so special because you can kill those girls. All you are is a pathetic loser, who’s afraid of the Slayer.” She spat in disgust.
“I’m not afraid of you. I know you.” He hissed.
“Oh, yeah? Bring it on.” She retorted, her anger in full control now. Spike looked down at her furious profile, pleased to see the fire there. *Gods, she’s glorious. * He thought.
“I left you another present at the Magic Box.” He said, cutting off her reply by hanging up. Buffy slammed down the phone, and pulled out of Spike’s arms.
“Pet, where’re you going?” He asked, knowing full well where she going. She had stormed into her bedroom, an anxious Sid right behind her. Spike leaned on the door frame, watching her as she pulled off her wet clothes and found dry ones. Once she had on her jeans and a T-shirt, she threw one at him while she went in search of her shoes.
“Come on.” She said, storming past him. He exchanged a look with Sid, before turning to follow her, his still wet jeans making a squishing sound when he walked.