Chapter 13: Aftermaths
As he drove them back home, Spike could see from the corner of his eye that Buffy was watching him curiously, almost expectantly, but what she expected, he had no idea, until she finally asked:
“So, what happened?”
He threw her a quick surprised glance before focusing his attention on the road again. After driving the car with clear windows for a few days, it was a bit annoying now to be back to the black paint covering.
“What do you mean, ‘what happened?’” he asked, frowning.
“Manon cried”, she informed him. “And you were as eager to have her out of the house as she was to be gone. So I’m asking, what happened?”
He nibbled on the inside of his cheek absently, thinking about what to tell his Slayer. He didn’t want to embarrass the kid, and didn’t want Buffy to feel jealous, but he didn’t want to lie either.
“I think the kid is more bothered by the squeaking from our bed that by having us playing with her Slayer senses constantly,” he said quietly.
“Because she has a crush on you?”
He turned his head toward her swiftly, and the car drifted close enough to the left side of the road to cause a driver coming the other way to honk and swerve his vehicle away from them. Immediately, the vampire returned his eyes to the road.
“So, you noticed,” he said, slightly relieved that he didn’t have to decide whether to hide this from his Mate or not. “Since when? And how?”
“I don’t know,” she replied nonchalantly. “It was kinda obvious.”
Laughing quietly, he shook his head. “Yeah, obvious. I must be stupid or something.”
She leaned against him, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “You’re not stupid, just dazzled by the blinding beauty of your fiancée,” she said mischievously.
He glanced at her smiling face, and took his right hand of the wheel to wrap his arm around her. She had no idea how true her words were, had she?
A few seconds later, he pulled into the driveway and they entered the house together, holding hands like teenagers. They separated in the hall, Buffy sauntering to the kitchen while Spike went to the living room and let himself fall on the sofa. He flicked the telly on and zapped aimlessly through the channels until a familiar movie caught his eye. He wasn’t paying attention to it though, his mind wandering to old memories. Buffy soon joined him, bringing two mugs full of warmed blood, human by the scent, as they had dropped by the hospital the night before. He noticed as he took the offered snack the look of distaste she was giving the screen.
“Don’t like Star Wars, luv? Bloody good movie, it is. A pity Vader turns all poof-like at the end, though.”
“It reminds me of the nerd trio,” she replied with an exaggerated shudder, and stole the remote control from him.
Usually, that would have started an all out war for the possession of the device, but Spike didn’t complain when she changed the channel, and kept sipping on his blood. He didn’t even comment as she stopped on what was very blatantly a chick flick and settled on his lap.
“So, when did you finally notice?” Buffy asked after a little while.
He didn’t need to ask what she was talking about. That, too, was rather obvious.
“Right about the time she said she loved me,” he said self-deprecatingly, then added, hiding his slight worry: “You’re not upset?”
She discarded her empty mug, and her now free hand came up to play in his hair. He leaned into the familiar touch, coming very close to purring.
“I think you did enough to prove you are mine and mine alone,” she replied, nuzzling his neck. “And if I was upset every time a woman looked at you, I would chain you to our bed and never let you out”.
A certain region of Spike’s anatomy responded to the idea, and Buffy giggled softly against his skin. Sitting on him as she was, she couldn’t have failed to notice the stirring in his pants. She adjusted her position, now straddling his legs, one knee on each side of him.
“I see you’re not opposed to it,” she whispered right against his ear, her tongue flicking his earlobe teasingly.
“As long as we don’t have an audience,” he replied, nipping at the tender scars on her neck.
“Dawn complained about it for the last three years and you never sympathized with her,” Buffy said with a low chuckle. “Nor with Steven or Giles, and you know they heard us too.”
“Why would I care if they know I’m shagging you? ‘S far as I know, none of them fancies me. ”
“But she does so you care.”
The arm that was loosely coiled around her waist tightened its hold, pulling her body closer to his. Burying his face in her hair, he inhaled deeply, taking the scent of his Slayer, so feminine, so soft, so her.
“I’ve been in her place, luv,” he mumbled, reluctantly visiting old but still painful memories. “I know what it’s like to be right outside the bedroom and to know the one you love is with someone else. Wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”
The almost funny thing was that both times it had been the same man in the bed instead of him, or almost the same. Which might be one of the reasons Spike was always purposefully very loud when they spent a night at the Hyperion.
The mood was very heavy suddenly, and Spike wished he hadn’t said that out loud. He was trying to think of a way to lighten the atmosphere when Buffy said, very low, but with a hint of teasing:
“Are you telling me you don’t wish Riley could hear us?”
He couldn’t help laughing quietly at that. “I stand corrected, luv. Think we could invite him and give him a show?”
He waggled a suggestive eyebrow, and Buffy stifled a giggle by pressing her mouth to his. His tongue ran over her closed lips, silently requesting entrance, and soon was granted access. Gently, delicately, he caressed and probed every part of her mouth, before inviting her tongue to dance. Her fingers were threaded in his hair, while his hands were on her back, one plunging under the waistband on her pants and kneading the soft flesh there, the other pressing her closer to him. Her hands glided down his face, caressing softly as they went, until they were on his shoulders. She pulled away from his lips then, and he let out a protesting growl.
“Buffy…”
She laid a finger across his lips, shushing him, and he licked and nibbled the digit softly until she took it away. As she let herself slide to the floor, her hands dropped to his crotch and fumbled with the buttons of his jeans, freeing his hard cock from its confinement. He watched her intently as she touched it with just the tips of her fingers, and had to suppress a groan when her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. But when she leaned forward, when her tongue came out again and traced his length, he didn’t even try to stifle his moan.
Keeping his eyes on her as she licked and nipped at sensitive skin, he wove his fingers in her hair, trying his best not to urge her on. Quickly, she had him whimpering and begging for more, and with a wicked smile flashed up at him she relented. The sight of her shiny pink lips closing around him was a wonderfully erotic thing, but it paled compared to that of sliding in and out of her mouth, her blunt teeth scrapping teasingly. He had to shut his eyes tight not to bring a premature end to the exquisite sensations she was creating.
The hand at the back of her head now accompanied her movements, increasing her pace ever so slightly, while the other tried to find something, anything, to hold on to. Her free hand, the one that wasn’t holding him firmly as her head moved up and down, caught his, their fingers instantly weaving together. He was close, very close to coming when she suddenly started purring. The vibrations sent him over the edge, and he threw his head back, roaring her name as his release filled her eager mouth.
*****
It had been a stupid idea. No, actually, it had been the most stupid idea he could ever have had. Including him, his unit counted fifteen men. Several of them had already taken a turn at the surveillance of Hostile 17, and any of them could have placed the tracking device on the vampire’s car. It hadn’t been judged necessary until now as the vampire had not been using the vehicle, but tonight he had, and Riley had decided to repair this mistake with the briefest delay. And he had decided to do it himself. Which had been a very, very dumb idea. Not only because the inhabitants of this house knew him and might get really pissed off if they noticed him on their lawn. But also and mostly because, when he had heard the loud moans coming from inside, he hadn’t been able to resist and had approached the window. There was just a narrow gap between the drawn curtains, but it revealed quite clearly what was going on in the living room. With a sick fascination, he watched Buffy and that thing, aware that he should really leave before someone noticed him, but unable to tear his eyes away from the revolting sight. A sight made even more revolting by the fact that his traitor body wasn’t insensible to it, quite the contrary. He only managed to move away, completely numb, when the show was over – at least, the first act, they didn’t look ready to stop any time soon – one thought louder than anything in his mind. If he had needed a proof that the Slayer was under a thrall, he now had it. The Buffy he knew would never have lowered herself to doing that .
And God help him, how he wished she had…
*****
A quick rain earlier in the morning had left the streets of London wet and slightly shiny under the now warm sun. From the top floor of the Council’s headquarters, Giles could see the growing activity in the streets of the city, which in no way matched the activity inside the building. Getting rid of Quentin Travers had been pleasantly easy, and in truth the ex-Watcher had expected that particular battle to take longer. But the now headless Council had lost none of its stuffiness.
The day before, for hours, he had been interrogated, the questions touching to subjects as varied as Faith’s death, Travers’ attempts at controlling Buffy, Spike’s behavior since he was dechipped. The High Council had never approved of Travers’ role in giving his fangs back to the vampire, but had not known of his deal with Buffy. Also, while the Council knew about the failed attempts at capturing Faith, only the retrieval squad had been told that the death of the young woman was preferable to her escape, which Giles had found out by comparing notes with Buffy and Faith. In the end, Giles had gotten tired of the quasi court martial interrogation, which concentrated on the actions of Quentin Travers but left untouched other more pressing questions. Since he wasn’t actually a Watcher, it had been easy to tell exactly what he thought to these people who knew more about past Slayers that they did about the current ones. His outburst had left the High Council shocked and speechless, and he had barely paused a second to give an apologetic glance to Andrea before he stormed out of the building.
He had been surprised to find her at the door of his flat after taking a calming stroll for an hour or so. They had walked down the street to the pub and talked for a while around a couple of these beers that a certain annoying bleached blonde vampire called ‘the good stuff’. She had convinced him, quite easily he had to admit, to come back to the Council the next day. And there he was.
It wasn’t just the High Council in a secluded room that he was facing with Andrea now. It was the whole assembly of Watchers, in the ballroom, just like when Travers had been deposed. It wasn’t dry questions and almost sarcastic answers this time. It was a real discussion about everything that sorely needed to change if the Council of Watcher intended to play its role. Giles didn’t pretend to have all the answers. What he had was the experience of fighting along a young lady for almost ten years and the observations he had made during that time. The fact that Andrea, being who she was, had observed some of the same things in the few weeks she had been an active Watcher only reinforced the power of his words. It might take a little while before they got to the point of finding solutions to all the problems, but at least now they were doing something.
Giles just wished his heart didn’t start jumping around in his chest like a teenager’s every time Andrea glanced his way or sent him a shy smile from across the room.