Chapter 2: Flirty
Chapter Notes: Conventional narrative structure from here on. I hope you stay with it.
The absence of footfalls behind her was Dawn’s first indication of trouble. She turned her head only to see her companions were nowhere in sight. A shadowed recess in the side of the stone building beside her echoed with soft throaty sounds of pleasure.
“Buffy?!!” An exasperated Dawn walked back toward the darkened doorway. “You two are worse than gerbils in heat. ENOUGH! Stop perving it up. This is someone’s place of business and I’m sure they don’t want you doing that here.”
Spike stopped kissing Buffy first and then a few seconds later Buffy realized the folly of her blatant exhibitionism.
“Sorry, Dawn.”
“Yeah, sorry Bit.” They both displayed suitably sheepish expressions on their faces.
“And don’t even try that ‘I slipped on a stone and fell into Spike’s mouth’ line because– UGH! Stop kissing for two seconds while I’m giving you shit! Hey, Perv One, come here.” Dawn grabbed Buffy’s arm and forcibly separated the lovers. “Perv Two, come on.” Dawn inserted herself between Spike and Buffy, linked arms and proceeded to walk down the well-lit London side street.
Buffy cleared her throat, apologized again and promised to behave. She was completely lost in the intoxication of Spike. Dawn recognized the woozy symptoms quickly and prayed silently that Buffy wouldn’t tackle Spike and hump him in the middle of the street. People might see. Woozy, horny Buffy both amused and alarmed Dawn. She took a deep breath and applied pure slayer logic: when in doubt, lecture it out!
The air was crisp and clear. The sounds of the night met them like old friends. Buffy really hoped their stroll would not be interrupted by any vampires because this was a moment that needed to feel unending. Staking some inconsiderate and probably moldy vampire was not on her preferred agenda plan. A lovely cool evening, Spike and Dawn and– Well it was almost perfect. If Dawn would just shut her mouth and embrace the vibe, they might actually attain perfection.
Predictably, Dawn marched to a self-involved drummer. “Just ’cause I said okay to walking back to the hotel instead of taking a cab, do NOT think that means I’m condoning your hop, skip and snog side show. Still an impressionable minor here guys, so stop it with the saliva train! Like I didn’t hear enough earlier outside Giles’ office!”
Buffy blushed, remembering her earlier indiscretion. Spike was stronger than she was in this matter. He could have stopped, postponed the inevitable; but no, she had to ride him like a bronco at a rodeo in Giles’ office in full pornographic view of Giles’ grandma’s sparkly crystal. But oh, what a marvelous steed Spike was…Buffy’s mind filled with images of naked Spike in chaps and spurs. Yippie-tie-yie-yo! Git along little dogies! Her breath thickened.
Oblivious to the sexual heat that simmered mere inches away, Dawn continued unabated. “This is London and I’m not missing out on the great sights and great eats…um…great sights. And William, let’s not forget William.” Spike looked at Dawn with a strange expression.
“Not you, goofus,” she snorted with amusement. “Wil-li-am, as in Prince, comma, future king. You know, my husband.”
“Oh, him.” Spike added a nod. Yes, he could see how young and impressionable human girls might tend to gravitate toward that ponce. Suddenly the realization that Dawn’s girlish infatuation with him was well and truly dead pressed heavily upon Spike’s cold and lifeless heart.
“So it’s Prince William now, is it?” Buffy offered archly, knowing how quickly Dawn’s infatuations came and went. She then looked across Dawn’s still cherubic profile to address Spike. “She was hot for Orlando Bloom when he was in Rome shooting some movie last year.”
“Orlando Bloom…” Where had Spike heard that name before? Andrew. Yes, Andrew had prattled on about that wanker’s stormy eyes and chiseled– “AHEM!” Spike cleared his throat rather forcefully. The girls looked at him and waited for some solemn pronouncement.
“Phlegm,” he tapped his chest.
Dawn plowed on. “I’m over Orlando, Buffy. Didn’t you get the memo? But you know, if we happen to spot him at a night club, I’ll be all over him like white on rice!”
Spike swallowed uneasily. His Nibblet made an overt sexual innuendo and Buffy giggled.
“Cool your jets hormone girl, there will be no night clubbing for you. Don’t you have some school work to do, like that book report on ‘Pride and Prejudice’?” Dawn responded with extreme silence.
Their legs moved in synchronous rhythm with three pairs of footwear clicking the pavement in unison. This did not escape Spike’s notice. His heart filled with gladness. As odd as that sounded and mere weeks after facing a particularly nasty apocalyptic two-step, his heart filled with loving gladness.
“Dawn?” Buffy prompted an affirmative response.
“Buffy?” There was that blustery sibling sarcasm, sweet music to Spike’s ears.
“You haven’t read the book have you?”
“It’s not due until next Thursday.”
“Dawn.” Dealing with a dithering Dawn always focused a dithering Buffy.
“I was thinking of renting the movie and winging it,” Dawn confessed. “My teacher said something about Renee Zellweger and Hugh Grant but I wasn’t really paying attention. I’m assuming they’re in the movie. Could we rent it?”
Buffy had to stifle a smirk. Winging it, yes, that was another skill found within Buffy’s playbook. She’d winged a few book reports in her time.
Spike spoke up firmly. “That movie’s too derivative, Bit. You need the source material. Read the Austen. It’s good.”
“Well excuse me, Roger Ebert, when did you become all-knowing-movie guy?” Dawn arched her eyebrow toward Spike.
“Book, Bit. It’s a book and I have read it.” Readying himself for derisive twitters and guffaws, Spike was strangely comforted by their complete absence. Buffy spoke up.
“There you have it Dawn, straight from a real Victorian gentleman. Was she a friend of yours by any chance, Spike? The author?”
Seeing the genuineness of Buffy’s uniquely stupid question and her completely serious face, Spike let her down easy. “No pet, Jane Austen was actually a little before my time.”
“Okay Dawn, we’ll go back to the hotel. You start the book and then maybe tomorrow we’ll do some touristy things together.”
“All right, but I swear if you two become the beast with two backs anywhere in my vicinity I’ll phone for the cavalry. Daphne and Chastity would so come down for some rejuvenating night clubbing with me. Wiccas appreciate the value of the sisterhood.” Dawn spoke with great authority.
“We’ll see Dawn,” Buffy rolled her eyes. The three turned the corner and crossed the street. Soon they arrived at the front door of the hotel. An unremarkable medium grade hotel tucked away from the bustle of the city’s core wasn’t exactly what Spike had envisioned.
Buffy took one look at his expression and spoke. “The council’s putting us up, Spike, and they are rebuilding, so five star accommodation is out.”
“Yeah,” Spike held the door for his two ladies. “I guess they vetoed the pup tent option on account of–“
“Be nice, Spike. Giles is the big cheese on the council now, so don’t go all complainy on their lack of luxuries. Demon extermination eats away at the petty cash float or didn’t you find that out at Evil Inc.?”
They walked across a small but serviceable lobby toward the elevator doors.
Spike’s face hardened to a steely resolve. “Let’s just clear that up right now, Slayer. First, I NEVER was on the pay roll of Evil Inc. Even though I drove a few of their cars…on occasion…that doesn’t count as payment of any kind.” He counted off his points on his fingers. Dawn pressed the elevator button.
“Second, I did my hero bit because, well…champion here, sort of comes with the territory now…” Buffy tilted her head in rapt attention. He wanted to kiss her breathless. “Uh…third? Right. That Shanshu prophecy is a buggering waste of the paper it was incantated onto.”
“Incantated is not a word,” Dawn chirped up helpfully. “You probably mean charmed or magicked or conjured.”
“I’m going for a thing here, Nibblet.” Unprepared for Dawn’s vocabulary interjection, Spike paused and tried to get back on track. “And…uh…where was I?”
“Fourth.” Dawn’s face was a blank canvas.
“Fourth. I’ll never repeat this ever, ever again, but Angel and I made a pretty good team, all things being what they were. But he’s still a poncy git with abysmal taste in leather…and the hair thing, well that’s just sad, that is.”
“Poncy git, sad hair, check-check.” Dawn surged into the opening elevator. Buffy sighed and entered with Spike. The elevator chimed at their floor and the three traipsed down the thickly carpeted hallway. Buffy looked beautiful wrapped in Giles’ oversized maroon cardigan.
“Just so you know Spike, we don’t have a television in the room.” Spike was fairly certain he wouldn’t be needing the balm of the idiot box any time soon.
“You have a book, Dawn.” Buffy spoke in reasoned tones.
“Yay, me.” Dawn launched the Titanic of ennui at Buffy.
They stopped at a door at the far end of the hall, the ninth room on the sixth floor, room 69. Spike smirked and subtly rolled his shoulders at the implication of that number.
“Grow up,” Dawn proclaimed and opened the door to their small suite. Their room contained a double bed, a small chest of drawers, a side chair and small table, a door to the bathroom and another door to a tiny partitioned space with another double bed. “How come I never realized what an incorrigible, sex obsessed guy you are?”
“Don’t know Bit, but to tell the truth, infatuation looked bloody good on you.”
“Get over it, Floyd.” Dawn kicked off her shoes. The domestic irritability of the trio was truly heart warming. It reminded Spike of the good times back in the day with Dru and Angelus and Darla, only this was like a trillion times better.
This was the kind of family he wanted.
Buffy put down her purse and headed into the bathroom. A small shriek soon sounded from within those depths. “Dawn! Why didn’t you tell me I looked like this?” Buffy’s face appeared around the corner of the bathroom door.
“That’s what you get for letting Spike lick off your make-up Buffy.” Dawn’s expression of delight was worrying.
“What?” Spike looked at Buffy as her face contorted in embarrassed rage. There wasn’t a thing wrong with her. She was beautiful, once in a century beautiful; she was perfect. He slipped off his coat and settled into a pillowy side chair. Dawn, as if on cue, picked up the phone and started dialing.
“Hang up, Dawn.” Buffy ordered.
“Can’t I call Andrew and tell him–“
“We have no money for long distance charges and neither does Giles, so hang up.”
“I’ll call the coven then and say hello to the girls.”
“Long distance, Dawn, hang it up.”
“Buffy!”
“NOW.” Buffy grabbed her valise and disappeared into the bathroom. Spike could hear Buffy changing her clothes.
Dawn put the receiver back on the cradle and sat against the side of the bed. Her eyes took in Spike’s relaxed form on the chair.
“She–” Dawn started and stopped. Awkwardness descended on the room. Was it her place to say anything? Would Buffy even tell Spike what it was like for them after Sunnydale? There were weeks of tears and if onlys and could have beens. Dawn remembered hearing Buffy crying behind closed doors. Perhaps it wasn’t her place to say anything. The past was not going anywhere and Sunnydale had changed everyone.
They hadn’t heard from Xander in months. He was on a personal odyssey and at last word, still in Africa. Apparently, all was not moonbeams and pierced tongues between Kennedy and Willow. The post apocalypse let down and subsequent move to South America was wearing thin on their relationship.
Giles became uber-organized Watcher guy again, except more so since the reformed council was his operation now. He transformed the organization completely by integrating the new council with the powerful UK coven, its satellite associates around the world and an ancient demon fighting Buddhist temple in India. With so many slayers needing guidance and training, live-in facilities were opened in continental Europe, North America and South Asia. At last count there were 1079 activated slayers worldwide. With resources stretched to the breaking point, Giles was swamped with work. Being in charge, however, was just what the doctor ordered. Giles was having the time of his life.
Faith was still battling demons in the States shoulder to shoulder with Robin. They had a posse of four slayers who traveled the country with them. They were still together and actually talking marriage. Ain’t love grand?
“I’m glad you’re not dead.” Dawn spoke quietly, having decided that she should say the obvious in case Buffy, true to form, managed to leave that tidbit out. Maturity took time, but Dawn now knew who her allies were. In an ever complicated world with few people in it that she truly loved or respected, it was nice to get another tick in the good guys column. “You know what I mean.”
“Thanks Bit.”
“We missed you.” Dawn’s soft voice trickled to nothing as the bathroom door opened again. Buffy emerged wearing form fitting track pants and a sleeveless undershirt.
“You’ve got reading to do, Dawn. Do you want something from room service? A sandwich maybe?”
“Nah,” Dawn replied, “I’m stuffed from the all you can eat session in the cafeteria.” She stood up from the bed and walked to her luggage. Dawn pulled a new book from her zippered compartment. She walked into the separate bedroom. “I’ll be in the closet here reading, and don’t worry, I’ll knock loudly before I come out.” Dawn raised her eyebrows at the couple and closed the door, fully expecting to hear raucous sex sounds instantly.
Hearing nothing, she lay upon the bed and started reading: “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife…”
*
Buffy stood looking at the room service card wondering if she should order something. They probably didn’t stock blood, so that would have to be addressed the next morning.
Spike sat quietly, flopped recklessly in the chair as if he had been thrown into it with his knees widely splayed. This was a new experience for him. Earlier, Buffy made no effort to hide or deny what they had been doing from Giles or Dawn. They had the sex and then followed it up with genuine affection. They held hands in front of Giles; or rather, Buffy held Spike’s hand while Spike stared in speechless wonder. On the walk to the hotel they kissed secretively behind Dawn’s back like two teenagers pushing their curfew beyond its limit.
No words of regret had been spoken. That was what blew Spike away. He needed to pay close attention. This was a new dance and he was going to learn every last step.
“Do you want anything?” Buffy looked at him. That was a loaded question if ever there was one but he knew she meant food.
“I could eat,” he replied, rubbing his stomach. “What kinds of finger foods do they have on that menu?” Buffy looked at the limited choices.
“Finger foods? Umm…”
“Anything chocolate?” Spike’s sweet tooth struck again.
“They have a dessert torte.” Spike nodded his assent.
“Ask them to drizzle it with lots of chocolate sauce.” Spike had a recurring fantasy that sustained him for months: Buffy’s tongue lapping up chocolate sauce as he hand fed her something sinfully delectable.
Fate was a funny thing. Spike had so often been relegated to bitch status that anything else was still alien to him. He was not complaining though. The hero thing wasn’t a bad gig. Heroes got room service. Okay, villains got room service too. Today, Spike got room service with Buffy. Perhaps the universe was not so poorly constructed after all.
Sitting in a comfortable chair in a quiet hotel room, listening to Buffy on the phone and Dawn turning the pages of her book in the other room, Spike felt the kind of belonging he had craved for longer than he’d actually admit. Who needed some lame ass prophecy anyway? What was the use of dangling a whisper of mortality in the face of a creature such as Spike? He made his own rules and followed his own path.
He’d make his own bloody prophecies come true, thank you very much.
When the dessert arrived, Buffy offered a slice to Dawn. Regretfully, she declined it and went back to her reading. Spike and Buffy sat across a small café style table near a sliding glass door that led to a microscopic balcony. Muted sounds of distant traffic elbowed their way into the quiet room through a sliver of an opening.
Spike picked up a fork and started in on a fantasy that had been brewing in his soul since the night he watched Buffy eat something decadent off of Robin Wood’s fork. He pierced a chunk of the chocolate torte slice, dredged it in the sauce and then lifted it to Buffy’s mouth. Lips and tongue and…there it was, the chocolate happy. Sometimes fantasies worked out just fine. She returned the favor. They fed each other like this until the dessert shrank to crumbs on the plate.
At last Spike spoke, having that particular fantasy sated for the time being.
“So, love, you’ve heard my show and tell. What about you? Killed anything interesting lately?”
“Not much. I mean, I think it will be a while before I get something cool like a dragon. You know, just your run of the mill pathetic vampires.” There was a weird red fuzzy thing that ran away like a scared little mouse when she interrupted it scavenging in a dumpster. Interesting was not a word that would have described it and she never saw it again.
Spike understood perfectly. Rome did not have a good reputation among the vampire clans. Spike remembered those demons as a bunch of dour pretentious gits who gave new meaning to the term lifeless. Now, Venice was another story. Those Venetian vampires were bloody fancy buggers. They knew how to party. Rome housed a few long established nests, but the actual vampires? All they were good for was a sharpened length of pine.
“I’ve got a few slayers under my watch.” Buffy perked up, wanting to tell Spike something interesting.
“They know their way around a stake, pet?” And probably a lengthy lecture too, Spike thought.
“Yep. They dust real good, but keeping them in school and eating properly and stopping them from killing each other…now that’s the tricky part.”
A lecture savvy flock of birds, no doubt. Spike nodded and spoke. “Being a mom is hard work.” Buffy flashed him a quick look but Spike was being sincere.
“Yeah, I hate to admit it but I think I’ve become my mother.” Buffy sighed deeply remembering the hell she put her own mother through. She put down her fork and scraped a blob of thickened chocolate sauce from the edge of the plate. She raised her finger to her mouth.
“Hey,” Spike spoke in a deep seductive tone. “Thought we were sharing.” He reached out and took her hand and brought her chocolate-coated fingertip to his mouth. Their eyes locked with liquid flames of desire. Just as his tongue was about to lick off the residue the adjoining bedroom door flung open. Buffy jumped.
“Okay, Spike you tell me right now,” Dawn’s eyes blazed daggers. “Darcy and Elizabeth end up together, right? RIGHT? Because why am I even reading this book if they don’t end up together?”
“Keep reading Bit, all will be revealed.”
“TELL ME!!” Dawn shrieked. It had been a while since she’d expressed such vehemence toward a book. The last one that nearly broke her was ‘Charlotte’s Web’ and that was second grade.
“Dawn,” Spike spoke softly. “Don’t you know your fairy tales? True love always wins out in the end.”
Dawn yelped triumphantly and returned to the bedroom. “I can’t wait for Lizzie to kick Wickham’s butt…”
Without missing a beat Spike dipped his head and sucked Buffy’s finger into his mouth. She blushed and shifted in her seat. The sensation of his cool tongue wrapped around her index finger started a wave of sympathetic vibrations that started in her nipples and rippled downward.
Erotic eating was new to her and nuclear bomb blast hot. Sweet chocolate Spike lips, among other delights, lay just waiting to be plundered on the other side of the table. A loud snort and giggle reminded her that Dawn was close at hand as well, just on the other side of near paper thin walls.
Spike released her cleansed finger and promptly sucked in the next one. Mesmerized by his eyes and the sight of her digits disappearing into his mouth, Buffy’s eyelids fell heavy with rekindled lust. This was going to be a long, long weekend.
“Spike…” Buffy bit her lip. “We can’t…with Dawn…it’s too–“
Spike released the last finger and leaned across the table. “Shh,” he whispered. “Your virtue is safe, my lady.” In direct opposition to that statement, Spike placed a soft nibbling kiss upon Buffy’s lips. “I don’t need anything else, honest. A good lump of chocolate cake in my tummy works wonders, you know?” It was just the faintest breath of affection. Spike knew enough not to start anything with Dawn so near. He figured from the look on Buffy’s face that the finger sucking bit had pushed her a little too far for now.
“I can go out and get you some blood in the morning.”
“I’m fine, pet, really.”
Buffy looked at the bed and the balcony and the comfortable side chair, anywhere but at Spike’s face. Looking at Spike’s face would necessitate jumping and leaping and clothes ripping and other urgent and growly activities that were slightly more intimate than she’d ever want her sister to know.
Earlier events at Giles’ office were selectively wiped from Buffy’s memory. The Dawn listening in parts and her loud ode to the ‘ew’ were deleted. Spike swallowing her orgasmic cry as he churned his hips between her thighs was saved to an auxiliary file in her mind: free to be relived at a moment’s notice.
Buffy had thought before leaving Rome that she’d have a relaxing weekend of shopping and hanging out with Dawn after she listened to some pathetic summary of how the world did not end. She needed a little decompression time. Impulsive sex with Spike in Giles’ brand spanking new office digs was not what she had envisioned when she woke up that morning, but it was just fine with her now. Buffy’s mind churned with schemes to eliminate Dawn from the equation altogether and lick a chocolate-coated Spike from head to toe while concentrating on certain points in between.
“You tired, Buffy?” Spike hushed as he regarded her face. After all, she had been rather athletically occupied for some time just a few hours ago.
“Me? I just hopped over from Rome. You did the trans Atlantic thing, aren’t you tired?”
“Nah, legendary constitution, comes in handy at times.”
Out of nowhere Buffy yawned. “God, this is embarrassing.”
“Come on, love, I think I remember this tune.” Spike reached out his hand and pulled Buffy to standing. “Even slayers need to sleep.”
“Okay, but only for a few minutes. We can talk all night. I want to hear everything, well…yes, everything.”
“Whatever you desire…” Those were the last words Buffy remembered. She fell dead asleep as soon as they nestled onto the bed. She missed Dawn emerging from the other room to get her pajamas and disappear into the bathroom.
When Dawn walked back toward her bedroom door she offered some advice. “I gotta warn you Spike, she snores.”
Spike nodded and bid Dawn good night. He knew that already.
He remembered everything.