Princess Plum Jade's Fan Fiction Partners

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Title: “Partners”

Author: Princess Plum Jade

Rating: PG-13/SOFT “R” (for language)

Pairings: Buffy/Spike (William-esque) and Angelus/Cordelia; mention of Angelus/Darla, Spike/Drusilla and Xander/Drusilla

Summary: Alternate reality/Romance fic.: Buffy, now a retired Slayer, is employed to be Spike’s partner in pairs ice skating competition. Angelus pursues a relationship with Cordelia Chase, a champion singles skater.

DISTRIBUTION: Please LINK BACK to this story on your website if you wish to feature my fic in your archives. I prefer links because sometimes I edit and rewrite fic pieces and I don't want dated copies floating around the internet.I don't change the URLs of the fics so I PROMISE you won't lose the fic!If you're jonesing to archive in a big way and can't get past it, please e-mail me and we'll talk.

IMPORTANT
Any archivists affiliated in the "No Cookie for you Buffy Bad Fic" mess board (No, that's not a typo folks! Places like that actually exist! Can we say EW!!!!!!!!!) DO NOT have my permission to archive any of my personal fan fiction or links to this website at their own websites. If you are affiliated with this group and are already linked or have archived fic from BiNE!!! in the past, please remove said links and work from your archives immediately. Thank you for understanding the idealogical differences that will not permit me to endorse such a thing.

“Partners” was inspired by a challenge at “Effulgent Embrace.”

“Partners” is dedicated to "Sing to Angels" with much affection because I know she loves all the pairings. Hugs from Plummy! Sorry I couldn’t squeeze Faith/Wes in as well! I tried but there was a page limit!

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Late October--New York--2003

She glided lazily along, the blades of her skates softly scratching the freshly glazed ice. Spike thought she looked like an angel in her white cashmere sweater and fluttering chiffon skirt. Her hair was spun gold dappled with sunlight and even her rich ivory skin had a golden tone to it.

Angels and sunlight were both forbidden to his kind.

“Always good to discover hidden talent.” Angelus, his father, had a low soft voice, the kind of softness babies and small animals instinctively liked. Women–human, vampire, demonic, even goddess–found it irresistible.

Spike didn’t answer him. It was hard to believe she wasn’t a professional skater, she moved with an ease that said plainly she was comfortable as she skated. Most of the best skaters were like that, easy and confident. The most complex steps and dangerous stunts were all done as simply as walking. The concept of danger and difficulty completely disappeared.

“I thought we’d get ‘Delia,” Spike said shortly.

Angelus managed to suppress a sigh. In the last two years his son had skated with some of the best up-and-coming talent as well as a few premiere names from the professional circuit. Humans and vampires, Spike had faulted them all and refused to work with any of them. One was too tall. Another too petite. Bad breath. No rhythm. Too rhythmic. No stamina. Too quiet, too loud, too redheaded, no style...One by one, Spike had told them off and sent them packing.

Cordelia Chase, America’s sweetheart and an Olympic champion singles skater, had flatly told Angelus she’d dance barefoot on hot coals before she’d consider pairs skating with Spike. Although–Angelus hid his smile of anticipation–she seemed very interested in seeing him again.

“Your reputation preceded you,” Angelus answered blandly. “Delia’s not interested in pairs skating.” He nodded towards the willowy blonde as she effortlessly swung into a graceful butterfly jump. “She’s pretty good, huh? Why don’t you go meet her? Skate with her a little? Try her out?”

Spike shrugged. Casually, he gripped the side of the rink rail, sat on it, and lifted his legs over it. He knew why Cordelia Chase wouldn’t consider skating with him, he thought as he skated towards the pretty blonde. He’d been awful to every potential partner who’d auditioned with him. One pretty redhead had resigned from the sport altogether after his harsh criticism. He couldn’t help it, though, none of the girls was right.

None of them was Dru.

This golden angel wasn’t Dru either. She was gold and ivory where Dru had been raven-black and pearly white. Dru had been taller, too. But the fair girl did share her graceful, delicate bone structure. Swan neck, slim and elegant, and delicate seashell ears.

For a moment Spike fancied he smelled his former partner’s perfume, the light blend of lily-of-the-valley and gardenia touched with a precious hint of violet. He shook his head slightly, dispelling the old ghosts as he skimmed the glistening ice beneath his feet, closing the cold distance between himself and the new girl. It had been nearly four years but Dru still haunted him in so many ways.

The blonde didn’t seem to notice him at first. She skated backwards without bothering to look behind her and launched a triple axel, landing neatly onto the ice and swinging into a figure eight. A little smile played on her features. A good sign, that. She obviously enjoyed skating. Many of the girls forgot that, liking skating. They got all swept up in the competitiveness and celebrity of the sport.

Spike couldn’t believe he felt a little hopeful as the blonde abruptly stopped, and slowly turned to face him.

“Hi,” she said quietly. Spike gazed into her soft hazel eyes. “I’m Buffy Summers.”

Spike halted, touching his toe pick so abruptly into the ice he nearly lost his balance. Buffy raised her eyebrows curiously.

“A Slayer!” His voice rang through the excellent acoustics of the nearly empty room.   He turned back to face his father. “You sent a bloody Slayer?” he raged disbelievingly.

“Buffy’s not an active Slayer, Spike. She’s twenty-three years old.”

Spike looked blankly at Angelus, then back at the girl.

Buffy sighed at Spike’s lack of understanding. “Slayers officially retire after their 22nd birthdays,” she explained. “When we live that long,” she added inanely.

Spike continued to stare at her, unblinking.

Buffy wondered if it would do any good to tell him she was flat broke and needed an income. Her mother had died only a year before Buffy’s retirement and she had a younger sister to support. Retired Slayers didn’t receive a survivor’s bonus or any other type of severance package. The government expected them to move on and live life as a normal human citizen once they’d made their contribution to society.

At first, Buffy had been shocked and relieved when she received her honorable discharge from active duty. Now she wondered if she would have been better off not surviving to retire.

“So, “ Spike began slowly. “What led you to choose skating as a career alternative? Now that you’re done staking any vampire you get your hands on.”

Buffy winced at the contempt in Spike’s voice. “I’ve never killed a vampire without a government warrant, Spike.”

Angelus nodded. Spike had only been a child back in the days when there had been no laws protecting the vampire population and the active Slayers had considered it a sacred duty to actively hunt and kill any vampires they found whether they were preying on humans or not. Now things were a bit more civilised and, for the most part, the world was a better place for it.

“Yeah, whatever. Just answer the question.”

Buffy shrugged. She’d always liked ice-skating. It brought back memories of her more secure and happy childhood when her parents were still together and her father had still been an active part of her life. Trips to the ice rink had been a regular past time since she was three years old. It was one of the few perks she had flatly refused to give up when she’d first been *Chosen* and taken in protective custody by the government. She’d made her way to the rink three or four times a week and skated for several hours. Sometimes she was allowed to meet her friends there: sometimes they even brought Dawn, her little sister who she was forbidden to see.

A lot of the time, though, she had skated alone. Those moments had all been precious to her because, for a little while, she didn’t have to be a Slayer.

Now, she never had to be a Slayer again. It was confusing, exhilarating, and heartbreaking all at the same time. She had spent seven years of her life believing a Slayer was all that she could ever be. Now, with a whole new world open to her, it had seemed a trick of fate that Giles, her Watcher, had snagged this opportunity for an audition with Spike Fairchild. It was a chance to train further in something she already enjoyed and make some money. A chance to travel and to be someone else–herself–instead of a Slayer.

But the proud-faced man with the fabulous whipcord-muscled body wouldn’t understand that kind of a dream. At least, Buffy didn’t think he would. Not Spike Fairchild, one of the premiere pairs skaters, world-class athlete, son of Angelus Fairchild, a multi-billionaire publishing magnate. Spike probably already had everything he really wanted, so how could he understand her having nothing at all?

“I thought it might work out.” Her tongue tripped over her dry palette. “Your Dad and your coach thought I’m worth a shot.”

“Trust me, you aren’t.” Spike jerked his head angrily.

Buffy stood perfectly still, determined not to show how much his rejection hurt her. “Don’t you think we could at least–”

“You’re no partner of mine!” Spike turned away from her to hide his own regret. What the hell was Angelus thinking, sending a bloody Slayer to audition with him? And she really had the potential to do well. He had watched her with a professional eye as she’d slowly circled and leaped and played on the ice when she’d thought no one was watching. “You’re a Slayer!”

Angry disappointment flared up inside Buffy. “For your information, buster, slaying’s only one of the things I do really well!”

“That’s ENOUGH!”

Spike and Buffy both turned to face the stocky man in a worn-looking sheep-lined corduroy jacket as he approached the rink from the opposite side of where they stood. Spike scowled and Buffy raised her eyebrows.

“Daniel,” she began. “I don’t think this is wor–”

Daniel Holz raised one hand to silence her. The coach was relatively taciturn but the air of authority he wore so casually said plenty to make up for his silence. The 49 year old former champion and coach rounded on Spike.

“You don’t have a partner,” he said simply. “You cannot compete, or even practice well, without one.”

Spike continue to scowl. Holz was a good coach and had been training him for nearly fifteen years. He already knew it was no good bitching about Buffy’s previous vocation, Holz was too single-minded to care about that. Holz focused on their own relationship and that relationship was about the ice.

“She hasn’t got any real training!” He scoffed instead. “All she knows how to do is stake–”

“Elizabeth is a good strong skater.” Holz went right on ahead, talking over Spike’s comment because he didn’t consider it important. “She is fit and well-balanced. The moves,” Holz gestured idly, as if to say it didn’t matter. “They will come with training.”

Spike swallowed. Holz’s position was clear and his student knew instinctively they weren’t going to argue about this.

“Ummm–” Buffy raised her hand like she was still a kid in school. “Buffy!” Holz flashed her an inquiring look. “Buffy!” she repeated. “My name is Buffy, not Elizabeth!”

Holz nodded curtly and waved a negligent hand. “I like Elizabeth,” he said.

Spike flashed a smug grin and Buffy raised a golden eyebrow. The smile did a lot for his looks, she thought.

“You may as well forget it, Slayer,” Spike suggested. “If Holz likes Elizabeth, you can forget you had such a classically elegant nickname like Buffy. While you’re here, anyhow.”

Buffy looked at Spike. “You know,” she said pleasantly. “I’d heard the rumours about what a world-class butthead you were. Congratulations on totally living up to them.”

That comment took care of some of his smugness.

“William!” Holz ordered briskly. “Stand behind Elizabeth! We’ll begin at the beginning.”

Buffy glanced back at Spike and her expression softened a bit as he flushed. William? The candidate for Satan was really named William? She managed to restrain a giggle.

Angelus watched approvingly as Spike shrugged and took his place behind Buffy Summers. It still amazed Angelus that Spike accepted orders from a human. He felt vaguely relieved he didn’t have to call Rupert Giles and tell him Buffy wasn’t working out after the former Watcher, now a best-selling author on an informative series of occult encyclopedias, had asked him for this favour. Angelus took Holz’s appearance as his cue to slip quietly away. Hopefully, Cordelia Chase might be interested in joining him for a breakfast date sometime soon. Angelus licked his lips.

Buffy stood perfectly still. She did her best to keep her expression serious but her mouth ached to grin and her heart brimmed with exultation. There was still a chance for her dream to come true. Even if her “partner” was a troll. A very tall troll, she amended in her thoughts, with rock-hard muscular abs under his clean black T-shirt. A shiver danced over her back and Buffy tried not to fidget. Spike chuckled knowingly near her ear.

“Elizabeth, raise your arms at your sides, parallel to the floor. Yes!” Holz smiled briefly. “William, lift her up.”

Buffy’s heart quailed at the coach’s casual instruction. This was their very first workout and Spike–she barely knew this guy and, so far, she really didn’t like him much–was supposed to lift her up? Of course, she reminded herself, lifts were a prominent part of pairs skating but maybe it was too soon–

She gasped as Spike’s large hands clamped neatly under each of her arms and her blades left the ice. Instinctively Buffy arched her back, bowing her body away from Spike. He drew her up effortlessly and held her high, his arms fully extended above his head.

“I don’t know why we’re doin’ this,” Spike sulked. “I’m a vampire. You know I can lift her easily.”

Holz watched them for several moments. The former Slayer was uncomfortable, he could see it easily. That was understandable. Once they were Chosen Slayers were never permitted to live at home and live normal social lives; they were too valuable to the government. Buffy would have been taken from her family home and fostered in a training facility. She was supple and strong and certainly flexible, but she was not accustomed to being touched, or even being very close to another human being. That would have to be dealt with for her to succeed as Spike’s partner.

“All right.” Holz nodded and went to the rest area to get himself a cup of coffee.

Buffy waited for Spike to set her back down but he didn’t move. She stirred restlessly; his arms didn’t waver for a moment.

“Okay,” Buffy said in a calm voice. Still, Spike held her up. “Would you mind putting me down?” she asked finally.

Spike promptly dumped her unceremoniously to the ice. Unprepared for the abrupt drop, Buffy fell, sitting down hard on the cold, slick surface.

“Owww!” she complained. Spike watched as Buffy slowly rolled to one hip and comfortingly rubbed her backside. The lettuce edged chiffon of her skirt swirled over her pretty golden-toned hand. “You!” Her deep hazel eyes glared up at him.

Spike allowed a mean little smile to play over his lips. “Well,” he said. “That move needs some work.” He turned away from her to join Holz at the rest area.

Buffy climbed to her feet. In the blink of an eye she did a little gliding jump that put her behind Spike.

“Hey! What the–”

Buffy dug her hand into Spike’s jeans, right where the denim gapped at the small of his sinewy back, and fisted the material. Her other arm snaked around his waist and she lifted him up, about a foot off the ice.

Just because she retired didn’t mean she lost her Slayer strength.

“Slayer!” Spike exclaimed.

Buffy hurled the vampire like an oversized bowling ball onto the ice. He uttered a vulgar word as his bottom struck the frozen smoothness and he glided about halfway across the width of the rink before he was able to stop himself.

Holz turned away from the coffee bar and looked at the two of them.

“I just wanted to see if I could do better,” Buffy explained. “You know, without the dropping part?” She sighed. “But I suppose Spike’s better at this kind of thing than I am.” She gave Spike an apologetic smile.

It was on the tip of Spike’s tongue to upbraid her, but he was caught by the wicked fun in her eyes as she smiled at him. She was darn pretty even if she was a Slayer. Maybe she wouldn’t make him such a bad partner if she worked out. He climbed to his feet and muttered gruffly, “No problem.”

Holz’s mouth twitched only the slightest bit and his drooping eyes seemed shiny.

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Spring 2004

Their training schedule was grueling. Buffy enjoyed a challenge, but sometimes she felt like her new job took over her entire life. Holz trained them rigorously, drills on the ice as well as off. And he insisted Spike and Buffy work out together even as they practiced together. They were a team and he wanted them to be as synchronised as possible.

Jogging, weight lifting, swimming, ballet.   Exercise to build strength, exercise to build control and coordination.

“A guy like you does ballet?” Buffy stared at Spike incredulously when he accompanied her to her first lesson.

“It’s great actually,” Spike told her. He frowned as she smothered her laughter in one golden hand. Her hands were like gilded lilies, he thought, graceful and beautifully shaped. And soft, deliciously soft on his own hands when they practiced stroking crossovers. Sometimes they skated an hour or longer, hand in hand, beside one another, perfecting their efforts so that they moved fluidly, evenly, at the same pace.

He smiled, satisfied, when Buffy stared admiringly at his trim figure in tights. There wasn’t an ounce of spare flesh on Spike–in fact, Dru had often chided him for being too thin. Spike wasn’t a small man, but he had a neat bone structure; he was so well put together he looked smaller than he was. His musculature was a study of perfection in human anatomy, rock-hard and beautifully defined.

She was unusually silent during that first ballet lesson where their instructor focused mainly on teaching Buffy how to stretch and tone her body and limbs. Flexibility was a must in a skater.

So was posture. It annoyed Spike, the way the Slayer carried herself so carelessly.

“It looks like you don’t think of yourself as important,” he snarled at her one early morning at practice.

Buffy looked at him quizzically, not understanding. Spike sighed.

“You’re gonna be the center of attention on the ice, Slayer. Everyone’ll be watching you. Make it worth their while.” He reached out towards her and lightly lifted her face with two fingers beneath her round chin. “Let them see you’re worth looking at,” he added gently.

In a few months, Buffy became used to the sight of Spike in clingy spandex that revealed every contour of his form at ballet. Spike found himself watching Buffy more and more, not just to criticise and train with her. She really was a lovely girl, he thought. Her figure was slim and fine with superior muscle tone. She had a flawlessly smooth complexion and golden hair that shone like silk in the thick ponytail behind her head.

He had grown to like the sound of her breath, her heartbeat and pulse close against him as they worked together tirelessly on combinations, jumps, and lifts. He enjoyed the sudden excited shift in her pulse whenever they practiced lifts and twists. He’d never felt that with Dru because Dru didn’t have a pulse.

Occasionally, Spike caught the news reports about Drusilla’s performances in the Crystal Dreams Ice Ballet with her new partner and husband, Xander Harris. It had rankled him to see them together at first. Spike thought he would go into a rage when critics praised Dru and Xander’s award-winning choreography of “Romeo and Juliet” as though it were some sort of bloody revelation to the skating sport in general. Bloody Hell! People were acting like Spike and Dru had never existed, like they hadn’t introduced some of the most gutsy and innovative moves to the pairs skating world in the last fifteen years.

He should never have gotten serious with Dru. His mother certainly hadn’t liked her and had warned him that she was too mentally unbalanced. A lot of the human vampires went insane, depending upon how they were made. Spike had always been scornful of the Old Guard idea that only the truly born vampires were “real” vampires and the humans brought over by contamination were only inferior “country cousins” to true vampires. He’d loved Drusilla honestly, with all his heart, despite her fey behaviour and inconsistency.

But enough of that. Spike felt glad that he was moving on and getting used to working with the Slayer. He even liked her at times. It was almost a shame they argued too much.

“You could’ve picked me a partner with a better disposition,” he groused to Holz one morning. “She argued tooth and nail with Frederick all through our bloody costume fitting!”

Holz massaged Spike’s shoulders firmly. The vampire physique, while basically superior in strength and endurance to humans, was very sensitive to stress. Holz rested a solid fist on the whipcord muscles covering Spike’s left shoulder blade and slowly leaned forward, applying gradual pressure until the tissue softened and relaxed. Spike sighed softly in relief.

“If you didn’t agree with her why didn’t you say something?” Holz asked reasonably.

Spike was mulishly silent. He had stood by while Buffy had told Frederick his costume design was dated and frumpy-looking. Frederick had gotten a bit peevish about it and cinched the scarlet velveteen bodice of Buffy’s peasant-style skating dress a little too tightly. Buffy had casually ripped the bodice off of her leotard, wadded it up and tossed it in the trash basket on the other side of the room.

“I’m Buffy,” she said flippantly. “Not Heidi.”

Frederick had looked ready to cry. “I have been designing Mr. Fairchild’s costumes since his performances in the American Junior Nationals!” he’d declared stiffly. “Miss Gavin loved all my work!”

Spike had watched the Slayer’s face curiously, wondering if she thought much about his previous partner, about the success and celebrity he and Dru had enjoyed. Did it intimidate her? If it did, it never showed when they worked together.

Buffy never batted an eye as she’d replied, “I’m not surprised. Dru Gavin is a lunatic.” She had turned impatiently to Spike. “Can we dress for the current century please?”

Spike felt like a fool for his own thoughts. Buffy Summers didn’t care about his past with Dru. She wasn’t really interested in him at all.   This was a job for her. That didn’t really sit well with him. Strangely enough, he realised, he agreed with her comments. He’d never cared much about his costumes so long as Dru was happy with them. But Dru had never consulted him about the details.

Spike gave Frederick a short nod. The baby-faced designer had pursed his lips.

“What exactly do you have in mind?” he had asked petulantly.

Soft, fluid silks, draped fabric. Less sequins, less furbelows, more beauty and grace of the fabric’s movement than decoration. Spike marveled at Buffy’s taste. He’d found himself getting into it, ordering a few extra shirts in brilliant turquoise silk and ice-blue crushed velvet.

Buffy had smiled then. Her full glossed lips had spread over even pearly teeth and Spike had felt so warm inside...

“I never said I disagreed with her!” Spike snapped at his trainer. “I just said you could’ve picked someone with a better disposition!”

Holz expertly kneaded away a wrinkle of tension on the back of Spike’s neck. He never grew the least bit ruffled by Spike’s mercurial temperament and continued to speak in the same quiet tone.

“Elizabeth is a beautiful skater. She makes you a good partner.”

“Buffy! She likes to be called Buffy!” Spike grumbled as he turned his head to the right, giving his trainer better access to a knot in his neck.

Holz paused only briefly before he serenely answered his student.

“I like Elizabeth.”

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Spring 2004

Angelus gazed admiringly at the gorgeous brunette as she floated over the ice in a burgundy satin catsuit trimmed with silver braid and sequins.    Her body was a marvel to him, incredibly taut and toned. Her smile was even prettier. He felt like a fool, a schoolboy peeking at a cheerleader he had a crush on. She closed her eyes from time to time, as though the soft new-age symphony music overwhelmed her. Yet she never tripped up or even seemed unsure of her footing as she stroked and glided over the ice.

Cordelia Chase felt her heart pounding. Angelus was there, watching her! She couldn’t believe he was back! The champion athlete had thought he’d never look her way again when she had so strenuously declined his offer to work with his uptight snotty son. She couldn’t help it; Cordelia was too brutally honest at times. Still, she couldn’t help but notice how handsome Angelus was.

I’m can’t believe this! I’m like a fifteen-year-old with a crush on a high-school hunk! She wanted to laugh at herself but that would have thrown off her concentration as she coasted over the expanse of frozen water under her blades. The last thing she wanted to do was look stupid in front of Angelus.

Her body was conditioned from a lifetime’s experience in her sport and most of the movements were second nature to her. But timing and balance came into play, and even the best skater wiped out from time to time. Please don’t let me fall in front of Angelus Fairchild! I so don’t need the loser factor!

She accelerated forward with an easy shift of body weight and swung herself into a perfect triple axel. Her little crowd of paparazzi whooped enthusiastically and clapped as she landed in perfect form, hips and shoulders square, blades flat, and glided back into a wide camel spin, one leg extended straight behind her and one arm pointing ahead of her.

She couldn’t see if Angelus clapped for her or not.

She stroked backward rapidly and headed towards the center of the rink.
Right now, she glided along to Sarah Brightman’s soft-spoken version of “Scarborough Fair.” The mellow orchestra mingling with New Age keyboard notes lent a celestial air to Cordelia’s skate. The little group of fans ooohed and ahhhed as Cordelia launched into a graceful layback spin, arms positioned gracefully over her head as her upper body arched backwards from her waist, her left leg extended behind her. Her slender form began to straighten slightly–Angelus recognised the subtle change as the champion skater redistributed her weight for balance as she moved--she raised her left leg higher, impossibly high, nearly parallel with her torso! It looked like she had done a complete split while standing upright and spinning on the ice! Cordelia reached upward and back until she grasped the back of the blade on her left skate with both hands.

Her fans burst into frantic applause as Cordelia executed a perfect Biellmann spin.

Angelus gazed at the exquisite beauty of Cordelia’s body. She seemed to have become a living artistic object, a breathing sculpture. Her arms were willowy and graceful, like the limbs of a crepe myrtle tree, the arched position of her chest revealed taut muscle, a long slender neck, and a firm bust. He smiled at the amused thought that the shape of her body, arched into a “U” and balanced on one well-turned leg, resembled a wine flute.

A wine flute filled with red wine...

Slowly, Cordelia released her foot and slowed her spin as her left foot touched the ground. Angelus was smiling–was he laughing at her?   He’d better not be, that was a perfect spin combo! Or worse, was he so bored with her that maybe he was laughing about something else?

Cordelia remembered not to frown as she gently planted a toe pick into the ice and made a graceful little bow. Her mother had always told her to show grace to her audience no matter how small or informal the audience was. Cordelia felt a brief pang for her departed parent. Her mother had always believed in her and her estranged, wealthy father had always paid the bills.

Cordelia smiled broadly, turning her head carefully to include everyone watching her. She tucked back a laugh as a cheering four-year-old tried to toss her a bunch of small flowers and they fell awkwardly over the guard rail onto the ice. She sallied forth towards the kids and dipped gracefully to retrieve the small bundle of white daisies tied with a blue ribbon and skated over towards the kids to chat a little and thank them. Not her favorite part of the job, chatting with lisping little brats, but it was all part of being America’s Sweetheart.

Cordelia opened her mouth to say “Hi!” and a flashbulb went off in her face so it came out as a panicked “Hey!” instead.

“Great spin, ‘Delia!” A nerdy youthful photographer with an awful complexion grinned at her. “Smile baby!” he urged, aiming the camera again.

Asshole! How do these jerks get in here? Cordelia glanced towards Jem, her coach’s, seat. Her water bottle and baseball cap were there but she was not. Must’ve gone to the bathroom. Cordelia didn’t mind allowing a kindergarten field trip to watch her practice, or a journalist who was doing an interview. But her morning practices were meant to be private, she didn’t like being filmed or photographed while she was warming up. Jem usually took care of this kind of thing before it happened. The woman had the eyes of a hawk and a barracuda’s attitude.

Snap! Flash! Cordelia bit her tongue to keep from swearing. She nearly dropped the flowers. Don’t I take enough pictures already? I’m on cereal boxes and fashion magazines!

“Look–” she began in a firm voice.

Snap! Flash!

A large pale hand grasped the better-quality camera and plunked it out of the pimple-faced nerd’s hands as though he wasn’t clinging to it for dear life.

“What the fu–” the photographer began.

“Stop it! These are kids!” Cordelia hissed at him.

Angelus surveyed the camera curiously, trying to figure out its secrets. Dealing with mechanical devices was not his strong suit. He forced the film compartment open with his thumb.

“Don’t do that!” the photographer exclaimed. He turned to curse out whoever was interfering with his close-up of Cordy Chase. His lips clamped shut when he recognised Angelus Fairchild. Fuck me! He’s bigger than he looks on T.V.! He considered complaining and threatening a lawsuit against the well-known publishing mogul. But he doubted Angelus would care about that. Hell, the guy was a vampire!

Angelus ripped out the entire length of film until it hung in dark reddish-brown garlands over the bleachers in front of him. He clicked the film compartment closed and hung the camera by its strap around the jerk’s neck.

“If you point that thing at her again, I’m taking it away. Forcefully. And I’m not returning it.” Angelus’s voice was a low, rich bass. Cordelia felt her heartbeat rush and flutter from the sensual sound. Damn it! He can probably hear me! she thought. “Get out,” he added calmly.

“What’s going on here?” Jem MacDarcy queried. Two decades in the U.S. had yet to erase the firm burr in her voice from her native Scotland.   Cordelia recognised the precise moment the firm-bodied former world-class champion athlete identified the shrinking blond man as a photographer. “What do we pay security for!” She gripped the man by his shirtfront and began pulling him away from Cordelia while she bellowed for the nearest guard to escort him out of the building. Next, she glared at Angelus. “Miss Chase is not available for public viewing!” The woman had a voice like a brass gong.

Cordelia glanced anxiously towards Angelus. He was such a powerful and prominent man, head of a major major major fortune 500 company and he was a vampire, over two centuries old. How would he tolerate a middle-age no-nonsense skating coach upbraiding him?

Angelus smiled cheerily and held up both hands in the age-old gesture of surrender. Cordelia felt her cheek flush pink at the spread of model-perfect sharp-looking white teeth. His deep-set eyes sparkled with good humour.

“I was invited!” he protested merrily.

Jem glanced at Cordelia shrewdly. “That true?” she asked baldly.

Cordelia felt a flutter of panicked discomfort at the prospect of lying to Jem. She had been Cordelia’s coach since she was six years old.

“I–” she fumbled awkwardly. Jem raised her eyebrows so high Cordelia thought they would disappear into her gunmetal grey hair. “That is–”

“Breakfast, Cordelia,” Angelus reminded her in a slow drawl.

“Yeah!” Her voice was a little too high and bright. How did he remember that? she marveled. We talked about a breakfast date more than half a year ago! She smiled her “show smile” at her coach.

Behind Jem, Angelus winked at Cordelia and the lovely young woman felt her lips twisting vainly to hold back laughter.

“Hmmmph. Well, just get your skates off and cool down. You promised to visit these kids first.” Jem was always disciplined about maintaining a schedule.

“Okay Jem.”

“And I prefer to know if you’ve got a date before he shows up so I don’t have security throw him out,” the coach added firmly. Jem turned back to face Angelus. “You can wait over there.” She gestured towards the empty bleachers further away.

Sitting down on a bench to take off her skates, Cordelia flinched her coach’s tone. For Christ’s sake, has she been inhaling Sno-seal? Does she know who she’s talking to like that?

“All right.” Angelus’s voice was beautiful and patient behind her. “Just a second,” he added.

Suddenly, Cordelia found herself draped in Angelus’s black leather blazer. The silky lining whispered against her satin catsuit and her lush ponytail of dark wavy hair swished against the leather as she lifted her head back in confusion. Angelus gently patted her shoulders and smiled at her again.

“Thought you might be cold,” he told her lightly. “Your face is all pink.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summer 2004

“You promised you’d listen.”

Buffy gave Spike a pained look and he sighed in exasperation.

“This is called Der Rosenkavalier.”   He tried to explain to her. “It’s about a young girl’s fantasy–”

“About a trillion years ago,” Buffy murmured.

“After attending an evening party the girl, holding a single rose, falls asleep in her boudoir. In her dreams the rose is transformed into a handsome suitor who visits her and they dance the night away.” Spike folded his arms across his chest. “It’s very nice. There’s a ballet about it,” he added defensively.

Buffy sighed and dutifully listened to the music. It was a powerful symphony piece with subtle crescendos. In her mind she could see how it would be good music for them to skate to. She could almost hear the exact moments where they would spin, the cues for axels.

“Did you know the composer when he was alive?”

“No, Slayer.” Spike rolled his eyes to the ceiling for patience. “I was born in 1880.”

“And this music is older than that?”

Spike’s hard-chiseled features merged into a crooked boyish grin. “I’m actually pretty young for a vampire,” he bragged. Why’d she have to make it sound like he was prehistorical or something?

Buffy nodded, a smile just teasing him at the corners of her lips. “And you’re old enough to be my great-great-great-grandfather!”

“Hey!” Spike was indignant. “I’m in my prime! Not even legal age yet!”

Buffy openly gaped at him. “Are you telling me you’re too young to–to–” She began to fidget with the lacy ruffle on the cuff of her peasant blouse.

God her eyes can get huge when she’s surprised! Spike thought. She must’ve been a little doll at Christmas time!

Spike snickered. “I’m not old enough to marry yet, Slayer,” he clarified for her. “I can mate all I please.” He met her gaze dead on.

“Oh.” Buffy glanced down at her clasped hands. The cozy vibe between them was gone; instead she felt nervous and itchy. Spike’s eyes were pale blue and warm like the base of a flame. His gaze was deep, penetrating...No! Not penetrating! I don’t have thoughts like that about Spike! No penetrating Spike here! I am totally non-penetrable!

“Slayer?”

“NO!”

Spike’s face fell and his squarish brows rose at her agitation. “You don’t like the music?”

Buffy felt her conscience smite her. Part of her longed to humour Spike, clearly he enjoyed orchestra music. But-dammit!– it was so tired! It sounded like all the music in the footage she’d watched of Spike and Drusilla through their vintage years.

“I don’t want to be remembered as Dru’s replacement,” Buffy said softly. Spike sent her a sharp glance. “I want to be your new partner.” Did he understand her?

Spike studied her questioningly. Buffy sighed.

“I want people to think about us–I mean–” Buffy faltered and felt embarrassed blood warm her face. “I want people to think about Spike and Buffy. The same way they think about Drusilla and Spike.” She stood up nervously. “We need to be different, original.”

Spike finally nodded, understanding her. Buffy felt herself draw a nervous breath as she flounced across her living room to her tote bag and fished a CD out of it. He smiled ruefully as Buffy opened the stereo carousel and inserted her disc. He’d hoped she’d like Der Rosenkavalier. It was one of his favorite pieces and, although Dru had practiced with him to its tune she’d never liked it enough to compete with its music as their theme.

Buffy adjusted the remote control to play the song she wanted. Spike listened attentively to a bass rhythm as a female vocalist sang in a low melancholy tone:

“It was a Monday when
my lover told me
Never pay the Reaper with
love only
What can I say to you except that I love you?
I’d give my life for yours...”

It sounds like some crap college boys play to seduce their girlfriends, Spike thought in horror, as he casually read the disc title off the label on its case. Bif Naked crap.

Buffy glanced at him uncertainly. “I just thought it would be something more contemporary,” she remarked.

Spike glanced at her and took in her long silky hair. He rarely saw it down, she always wore a ponytail or a French twist when they worked out and skated together. He admired the depths of her rich hazel eyes, the blends of dark green, jade green, turquoise and even a little fleck of gold. Her crocheted peasant-styled top draped over trim nubile curves and her worn-looking frayed blue jeans were so low in the rise he could see her smooth bikini line.

She’s so damn young! he thought. I really am old enough to be her great-great-grandfather! But I don’t feel that old! He didn’t think about Harmony, a pretty vapid vampire girl from an ally clan that Angelus encouraged his interest in. All he could think about was Buffy, his partner.

“What do you think?” There was a faint note of worry to her voice. Spike rose to his feet and held out a hand. He never seemed this tall when they were working together. “What?” she asked softly, even as she moved towards him.

Silently, Spike enfolded her in his arms and Buffy swallowed as her hands drifted over his powerful shoulders. A quivering chill danced gaily over her backbone. Spike touched her all the time when they practiced together. There was hardly an inch of flesh on her he hadn’t touched at some time or another. She put her life in his hands, let him lift her, toss her, flip her in mid-air. She trusted him. Completely. And he always caught her.

But this wasn’t practice. This wasn’t work.

They danced slowly together, the movement of their bodies perfected by months of learning to move in unison with each other. They danced like they were at a party or a nightclub, they danced like the were all alone. They danced as though they were in love. Buffy felt dainty and girlish in Spike’s arms as they slowly pivoted in a loose circle in the middle of the room. Instinctively she turned her face to the side and rested her cheek against Spike’s shoulder. She suppressed an urge to giggle. It was nice to touch Spike in a more relaxed atmosphere.

Spike closed his eyes as Buffy’s hair warmed his throat in the V-neck of his sweater. She smelled fresh, clean-scrubbed, she bathed with freesia bath gel.

“Buffy,” he began softly. “I–”

She glanced upward, startled by Spike addressing her by name.

“You don’t like it?” Her luminous eyes reflected pools of lamplight.

“Huh?” He would drown in her eyes, he just knew it.

“Th’music,” Buffy whispered as his face moved closer to hers. Her belly turned a slow flip-flop as she admired the relief of Spike’s unique bone structure. At first glance, he wasn’t a handsome man, certainly not his father’s equal in charisma, but there was a distinctiveness to Spike’s looks that Buffy truly liked. Or maybe she’d grown accustomed to him and liked his looks more because she liked him–

“No,” he admitted against her lips, and kissed her.

His mouth molded against hers, as natural and inevitable as breathing. Buffy felt delicious comforting warmth suffuse her lips, then drift drowsily throughout her face, down her neck, across her shoulders, to pool in her belly. She reveled in the comfort of Spike’s strong arms draped loosely over her slender hips as they guided her body closer to his own.

Spike caught Buffy’s lower lip in his teeth and gently tugged while his hand traveled up the delicate contour of her spine. Buffy shivered as his fingers lightly kneaded through her peasant top then threaded into her soft hair. Incredibly intimate, Spike’s gentle stroking of her tresses, something he had never done before, something he had never handled or touched.

“No!” Buffy said it with a slight moan. She braced her hands on his hard chest and pushed herself away. “Spike, this isn’t right, I’m sorry I–”

“Buffy?”

Spike turned his mused attention away from the Slayer as she hastily smoothed her hair and straightened her blouse. He glanced lazily towards the entryway of the house where a young teenager, a pretty perky blue-eyed girl with light brown hair, was headed towards them. This must be Dawn, Buffy’s sister. The bloke behind her was tall and good-looking with a sturdy build and a pleasant smile. He was dressed in military camouflage.

“Dawn! Hey!” Buffy moved forward to hug Dawn and felt the usual hurt when Dawn shrugged her off. Dawn had only been a little girl when Buffy was Chosen and she could not really understand and forgive Buffy for the last seven years of absence from her life.

“I thought this wasn’t your weekend to come home,” Dawn said cooly.

“It’s not,” Buffy admitted. Slowly, her arms dropped back to her sides. She felt strangely cold after abandoning the warmth of Spike’s gentle affection. “Nice outfit,” she complimented Dawn’s black watch plaid miniskirt and dark green knitted silk twin set.

“Thanks,” Dawn replied simply. She glanced into the living room towards Spike.

Buffy turned and flashed an apologetic smile and Spike raised his eyebrows wondering why the Slayer was so tense.

“Spike, this is Dawn Summers, my sister,” Buffy began slowly. “And–”

The big blond guy strode into the room and smiled jovially. Spike noted disapprovingly that he really looked too old for a kid Dawn’s age to date. He wondered if he should say something to Buffy about it.

“Hi!” The guy grinned pleasantly. “I’m Riley Finn, Buffy’s fiancé.”

Spike felt the whole house crashing down around him as Riley held out a hand for him to shake.

“Heard so much about you, Spike. Good to meet you at last.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Summer 2004

“You never said ANYthing about her being engaged!” Spike raged as he rapidly plunged through the water towards the opposite side of the pool. His muscles and bones worked together like a perfect machine, easily propelling him through the lukewarm water.

“So sorry.” Holz kept one eye on Spike and one eye on his watch. “I didn’t realise marital status was an issue. Do be quiet, William, you’re messing up your time.”

Spike spluttered on the chlorinated water and tightened his stroke. Damn Holz! And damn her!

Of course, he’d been a fool to let himself feel anything for Buffy Summers. What the hell had he been thinking? He was the oldest son of an influential vampire clan. He had no business complicating his life by loving a human–a Slayer, no less! And it couldn’t be real love! Everybody on earth knew Drusilla was the great love of his life and this girl was nothing like her at all!

You meant nothing to Dru. She’s insane. She could never love you properly because she really doesn’t know how. Spike’s hand tightened into a fist as it crashed against the water.

“Hey Spike!”   Buffy strolled into the pool room, her workout bag over her shoulder. “Hi, Daniel!”

And there she is! Just bouncing into the room light and happy as a feather-duster! Acting like nothing happened between us! Did something really happen? We’ve worked together so closely for over a year now. Maybe I only think she means something to me ‘cause I spend so much time with her! But I never smell Goldilocks on her... Spike frowned as he gripped the edge of the pool and held himself up in the water. She’s awfully young and active not to be–interested–in her own man.

Daniel nodded without turning to look at her. “Elizabeth, get into the water. Today we practice lasso lifts.”

“Buffy!” she whined as she tossed her bag on one of the lounge chairs.

“I prefer Elizabeth.” He glanced down at Spike and began to chastise him that his timing was down and Spike pretended to listen to him while he watched Buffy kick off her Keds leather sneakers, then slip her running pants down her hips and pull off her T-shirt. Beneath her clothes her swimsuit was a simple white maillot trimmed with bright red piping. Her lovely hair was tightly fastened into a french braid behind her head. The pretty blonde arranged all her clothes on a lounge chaise and walked over to the pool’s corner steps.

“William, come over to the shallow end, you must be able to stand steadily.”

Spike felt like screaming at Holz that he already bloody well knew he needed to be waist-deep in the water and hold a firm footing so he could practice lifting Buffy, he’d been doing bleedin’ lasso lifts for years, his partner was the one needing practice and he could damn well lift her any way he needed to! He sighed, already knowing the taciturn trainer would simply remind him that both partners had to have practice so that they could be used to each other’s bodies and move in the perfect coordination needed to perform the lift. He paddled back over towards Buffy.

Buffy gave him a shy look as she waded into the pool and walked towards him. Spike emerged to stand waist-deep in water. His hair was slicked back against his head and water beads decorated his smooth torso. Why am I jumpy? Of course he’s got a great body! He’s always did! Nothing’s different now just because we kissed! We barely kissed, it wasn’t really anything! We were caught up in a moment, things like that happen to people all the time. Buffy took a deep breath and chewed gently on her lower lip. And Riley doesn’t make me feel all gooey but it’s no big deal that Spike would! After all, we spend so much time together working we’re practically joined at the hip! It makes perfect sense for me to feel attraction for Spike. It doesn’t really mean anything. She managed a thin smile for her partner as she turned and stood at his right side.

“Elizabeth, don’t be afraid of the lift. It will take some time to get it right and when you fall you will land in water.”

“Okay,” Buffy sighed.

She raised her right hand over her head and Spike clasped it in his as he reached across his torso with his left hand to grasp Buffy’s left hand and draw her slightly forward. Buffy felt him draw her into the lift and arched her back slightly as she stepped upward in the water.

“Good! Good!” Holz nodded. Spike had perfect technique as he drew Buffy in front of him, her feet no longer touching the floor, then raised her upwards, his arms straight above his head. Buffy’s legs opened into a semi-split and she held her arched back rigid to help maintain Spike’s support as he drew her completely aloft and held her over his head.

Spike maneuvered Buffy towards the right and began to lower her. Buffy turned slightly, maneuvering to dismount and be placed on her feet. She was grinning a little bit. Not bad for a first try!

“Aowwwhhh!” Suddenly Buffy felt Spike’s tension as his left hand jerked and threw her off balance. Instinctively, Buffy attempted to right herself and her knee connected with the side of Spike’s neck.

They crashed against the water with a loud splash. Buffy thrashed about in the soft liquid for a moment, then righted herself easily.

Spike stood a few feet away from her and gripped his hand for a moment. She waded towards him. He was frowning slightly.

“What happened?” she asked concernedly.

“I got cut.” Spike held his hand up to reveal the slight gouge in the webbing between his middle finger and forefinger. “Hurts like the dickens.”

“I’m sorry,” Buffy said.

Spike nodded. “Look,” he said. “Take the ring off while we practice, okay?”

Buffy looked at him strangely. “What?”

“Your rock, pet,” he replied a little impatiently. “Your engagement ring. The setting cut me.”

“Oh.” Buffy felt suddenly very confused. She almost felt ashamed of the ring. Not because it had hurt Spike, although she was sorry about that. Instead she felt badly about having the ring at all. It felt strangely disloyal to her partner. Like a betrayal.

This is RIDICULOUS! she told herself. Spike is my partner, the man I skate with. Riley Finn is the man I will marry. The only betrayal is that I don’t feel about Riley like I feel when I’m–it’s skating, that’s all. I’ve always liked skating and now I have a partner in it and that’s why I think I’m in love with Spike. He’s my buddy and we share this hobby.

“It wasn’t bad,” Holz said dryly. “Let’s try it again.”

“Okay,” Buffy replied automatically. “Give me a minute.” She climbed out of the pool. Spike watched the water streaming and beading in the pretty curve at the small of her back, trickling over her tight little backside and streaming onto her thighs. She removed her engagement ring and tucked it into her pants’ pocket.

Spike felt a surge of pleasure. Without the ring on her finger, somehow she was still more his. He almost felt guilty for the effort he’d put into to catch the hard diamond between his fingers and scratch himself with it. Almost.

Buffy turned back towards him and smiled, holding out her hands.

“Okay?” she said brightly as she stepped back into the pool. “Ring-free and lasso lift ready!”

He smiled back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

19 December 2004

“Mmmmmm...” Cordelia tried to turn her face away from Angelus’s but his experience and instinct in love-play far outweighed hers and his mouth followed hers. “Oh! Mmmmmangel!”

She sighed resignedly, wrapping her arms around him as the dark-eyed vampire embraced her fully, and returned his insistent kisses feverishly. Angelus sighed against her pouty lower lip and gently bit, tugging it with his teeth. Her mouth opened to him and she rose on tiptoe to be closer to Angelus as he deepened their kiss. His agile tongue glided over hers and lightly tasted the inside of her upper lip while she cooed. Their tongues began to caress each other as Cordelia grew more hungry, more needy.

Angelus was pleasantly aware of her arousal, the rise in her heartbeat and her skin growing warmer under his hands as he guided her lithe body closer to his until there wasn’t a dime’s width of space between them. His blood danced headily inside him and muscles clenched in his belly.

Cordelia felt fey, wild. Angelus Fairchild was the most exciting man she had ever met. She had never had much time for relationships, even casual dating when she was a teenager. She had had a rigorous tutoring schedule and lots of ice-training, off-ice-training, and plenty of practice and competition in her sport. When she wasn’t conditioning and training she had commitments as a spokeswoman/model for Loren-Gauthier cosmetics and she even had a signature line of sportswear in Wal-Mart.

Angelus was ruining her, Cordelia thought ruefully as his tongue plundered her mouth and she sighed her surrender. She no longer wanted to hop a flight at the drop of a hat to appear on a talk show. She was no longer certain she wanted to accept a very lucrative contract from a prestigious theme park because working with them would take more time out of her schedule. Publicity and popularity weren’t the number one things in her life anymore.

Angelus’s hands drifted from her waist over her firm backside.

“Mmmh–Angelus!–No!”

Angelus sighed as the young woman tensed and wrestled herself away from him. She was softly flushed and warm, her eyes brilliant with passion, and he smelled her own eager fluids, a fragrant secret in her jeans. He released her, albeit reluctantly, letting her lithe figure flow out of his hands as she retreated to her “safe distance” or “personal bubble” or whatever nonsense she liked to call it. About three feet away from him. She was smiling at him, but her eyes were troubled.

“Why don’t I get us some wine?” he suggested. He gestured to the fine Italian leather sofa. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Cordelia nodded and sank down into the soft ox hide, clasping her hands primly in her lap. She watched Angelus as he strolled towards the wet bar in the living room and went through the casual motions of drawing out a fine Chardonnay from the compact refrigerator covered in polished walnut wood. He popped the cork gracefully and poured the chilled wine into two crystal wine goblets. She glanced at the coffee table. There was a framed photograph of Angel with his two sons: Spike, the holy terror of the female pairs skaters of the world, and Connor, the troubled young artist. She knew Angelus was divorced; his wife, Darla, had left him for one of their lawyers.

Angelus came back from the bar and handed her her goblet. Cordelia took a little sip and made a soft sound of appreciation as she savored the crisp sweetness of the fine vintage on her palate. Angelus sat beside her, not touching her, but a pleasant intimacy clung to them as they sat quietly for a moment.

Finally, Angelus said, “What’s wrong, Cordy?”

She felt the familiar frisson of pleasure at his pet name for her. She liked it so much better than “‘Delia” or even “Queen C,” the nickname bestowed on her by the newspaper journalists and paparazzi. Cordelia met his eyes. He had such wonderful eyes, kind and lively and warm.

In the six months that they had been dating, Cordelia had been amazed as she got to know the vampire better. She’d had thoughts about what sort of person he was, a tough and ruthless businessman. But he was so much deeper than that! He was shrewd and disciplined, but also principled in his business affairs. He wasn’t crushed if a venture didn’t go his way, or even if he lost money because he handled his profits so well. He was no-nonsense and ambitious, and God help you if you crossed him! But he was also a gentleman, and he didn’t let profit get in the way of that.

He was a loving father to his two sons, even Connor who by all accounts was some sort of nutcase and had even tried to murder Angelus and take over the family business while Spike was out of the country. Of course, Angelus had not raised Connor himself. Darla had flounced off with a Neioga demon and taken Connor with her. The kid had grown up neglected in a hell dimension. It had taken Angelus seventeen years to track and find his younger son and bring him home. The kid was a walking bundle of preternatural flesh, blood, and distrustful resentment. Angelus didn’t give up on reaching Connor, though, and he did his best to be available to him.

And he treated her, Cordelia, like a princess! His wealth didn’t impress her although his wealth was impressive enough. It was his manner towards her. He was tender and gentle, funny and supportive. He took her wonderful places, brought her beautiful gifts, and sometimes they just hung around in the evenings after her workout, eating omelettes and watching T.V..

He was a wonderful man, the type of man who made a woman’s heart sing and her blood race and her body...Well, Cordelia never completely lost the tension inside her when they were together. He made her hot as a June bride.

But...

“What’s wrong, Cordy?” he repeated. “Am I reading us wrong? Do you not want me to make love to you?”

Cordelia set her goblet on the coffee table and lightly fingered the stem. Of course I do! Are you CRAZY? They were growing closer, all the time, and the physical attraction felt very healthy between them. Cordelia wasn’t entirely inexperienced and she was more than willing to jump into bed with Angelus.

“Angelus,” she said softly. For once, Cordelia felt a loss for words. She prided herself on being plain-spoken, an unfortunate impulse she’d inherited from her father. But she really didn’t want to disappoint or hurt Angelus. He was too special to her. “Look, the last few months that we’ve–been together–are really some of the best months of my life.” She looked him straight in the face. “You mean a lot to me,” she admitted frankly. “And, I think, I’m in love with you.”

Angelus watched her calmly and his mouth spilled into a beautiful smile. Cordelia felt her tummy flutter as he gently reached for her hand and lifted it to his lips for a kiss. He turned it over and kissed the sensitive hollow beneath her palm and she sighed as little nerves tingled and thrummed pleasantly from his caress.

But...

“But it’s complicated, Angelus.” Even as she spoke, Cordelia interlaced her delicate fingers with Angelus’s larger ones and clasped his hand. “I’m a public figure,” she tried to explain it the way Jem had explained it to her two months ago. “My celebrity is all about being a classic all-American girl-next-door.”

Angelus broke into a short laugh. “And you live up to it beautifully!” He stroked her long wavy hair with his free hand. “It’s okay, Cordelia. You can still be the girl-next-door.” He reached for his wine and chuckled. “Mrs. Girl-next-door Fairchild, I like the sound of that!”

A sledge hammer knocked Cordelia in the chest. Oh God, Angelus! Why’d you have to say that!

“Girls next door don’t marry vampires.” She said it a rush. Cordelia could hardly bring himself to look at him but she forced herself to do it. If he had to hear such a hateful thing, the least she could do was meet his eyes when she said it.

Angelus remained silent as he calmly set his glass on the table. If he was angry, he kept it well hidden under a blank mask.

“But you can date them?” he asked heavily.

“I shouldn’t,” she whispered.

“Then why did you?”

Cordelia tried not to flinch at his cool monotone. Only the knowledge that she deserved his anger kept her heart from breaking.

“I was attracted to you,” she admitted. “You’re interesting and funny. I–I don’t think I cared about you being a vampire. I’d have liked you if you weren’t. But I–I’ve never been really serious with a guy before,” she admitted. “I didn’t think we’d be any different.   I didn’t think it would last.   I’m so busy, Angelus, I never had time for guys.”

Angelus snorted as he drew his hand away from Cordelia. The champion skater felt suddenly very cold.

“You made plenty of time for me.”

“But I really liked you! I wanted–” Cordelia broke off as she realised how stupid she sounded telling him he was the only one she’d ever bothered to compromise her schedule for because she cared about spending time with him.

Angelus rose from the sofa. Cordelia watched him as he paced around the room like an angry tiger. His expression was angrier than she ever remembered seeing it and she felt a little frightened. After all, this was Angelus. In the history pages, before vampire citizens were legally registered and accepted by the government, he’d been known as the Scourge of Europe. The Slayers and huntsman who’d attempted to hunt him and his family had met grisly and merciless ends.

Suddenly he stopped pacing and stood right in front of Cordelia with only the questionable safety of the coffee table between them.

“Do you know what I feel like doing, Cordelia?” His voice was cutting, flavored with a angry hint of his native Irish brogue. “I’d like to take you to my bedroom and tie you up, spread-eagle you on my bed. I’d take my bowie knife–it’s in the top chest drawer–and cut your clothes away. I’d stick them in my fireplace and burn them to ashes.”

Cordelia’s breath hitched and her eyes widened. Angelus smiled sardonically, a crooked twist to his mouth. Cordelia shrank into the sofa and sat perfectly still.

“You’d stay there, naked and gorgeous, your whole body open to me, to whatever I wanted to do to you,” he continued. “I would pet and kiss and touch you everywhere. You’d feel things you couldn’t imagine. You’d learn to scream my name. You’d probably break the ties to wrap your legs around me, you’re strong enough to do it. The outside world–your commercials and photo shoots, your skating, your celebrity–would cease to exist. All you would care about–” He leaned over slightly, the ghost of a smile on his lips. “Was how I made you feel. When I hugged you, when I kissed you, when I touched you, when I hurt you–” Cordelia’s stomach turned a violent cartwheel and Angelus smiled at her knowingly. “All that would matter was us. Alone. In my room. I really do love you, Cordelia.”

He leaned a little closer. Cordelia’s breath froze in her throat. Her body was in overdrive from emotional overdose: dread, anticipation, throbbing desire, and heartbreak.

“I’ll call the garage to bring your car out front.” He turned away from her and headed for the nearest phone in the hallway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

New Year’s Eve–The Fairchild Mansion in the Hamptons...

Buffy felt a little strange. She had always come to the Fairchild mansion to work. She had never been an invited guest. She glanced down at herself as the limousine Spike had sent for her rolled smoothly into the elegantly curving driveway in front of the opulent home. Dawn had helped her shop for her dress, a slim wrap-style with a deep V-neck in rich royal blue velvet. Around her neck she wore Spike’s Christmas gift, a gold heart-shaped locket on a fine chain set with pave diamonds and one startlingly clear and perfect blue sapphire. The rear of the locket was engraved with only one word. Partners.

She felt her rush of shyness when the driver opened the door for her and offered a hand to assist her from the car. There was a house full of people in that grand house just waiting to meet her, to throw sugar over her and Spike for their recent victory in the Victorian Open Nationals in the U.K.. They were well on the way to a promising career, they were now a pair. Buffy wasn’t good with people, she wasn’t used to people. She’d spent years working to save people, not to talk to them.

The Nationals had been fantastic. Buffy still couldn’t believe how effectively and efficiently all their training had paid off. They’d finally agreed on their musical program, a medley of classical jazz merging into “The Voice of Enigma,” a sensuous blend of synthesizers, light percussion, and flutes. Their program had been charged with originality. Buffy had laughed aloud when Spike whirled her into a perfect forward death spiral and drew her into an easy waltz jump. At the end of the program they skated back towards each other, joining hands as they swung into a camel spin, Spike’s arm snugly around her waist as they sailed over the ice together, her hip and shoulder nestled against his, their legs parallel. She’d felt like a bird flying beside her mate as he placed a protective wing over her.

After winning the gold medal, the press had dubbed them, “The Two Beautiful Blondes.”

”You’re gonna be the center of attention...Make it worth their while...Let ‘em see you’re worth looking at...” The memory of Spike’s comment whispered to her. Resolutely, Buffy straightened her shoulders and raised her eyes from the ground as she extended one leg in a nearly impossible four-inch spike-heeled pump to get out of the limo. She held her head high as she strolled lightly towards the immense double-doors that led to the light and warm laughter within.

She tossed her head slightly and her long blonde hair swished loosely behind her. It was fun to have her hair loose down her back, unrestricted by braiding or elastics. And there was a strange pleasant intimacy to wearing it long in front of Spike.

Angelus greeted her pleasantly enough at the door. He was gracious and gentlemanly, a little aloof. Spike had told her he’d had some sort of falling-out with his girlfriend recently. Buffy wondered idly who would spurn the attractive vampire. He was one of the most eligible bachelors in the world.

“Hey! You’re Buffy! Spike’s partner!” A tall girl with her blonde hair piled into a sleek twist and pale blue eyes looked her over. “I’m Harmony,” she introduced herself with a condescending air.

“Hello.” Buffy shook her proffered hand politely. Spike had mentioned Harmony with much groaning and growling in the past. Angelus wanted to encourage an alliance with the vampire girl’s clan and Spike thought she was feather-brained.

Harmony’s blue eyes raked Buffy with cool appraisal. “So, you used to be a Slayer, right?” she said rather loudly with a wide smile.

Buffy met her eyes evenly. She already knew perfectly well that many of Angelus’s party guests had to be vampires, some true-born, some human converts. Clearly the vampire girl wasn’t looking to make her any friends.

“Yes,” Buffy replied shortly. “I was Chosen when I was fifteen years old.”

“Hmmm.” Harmony nodded cattily. “So, now that you’re skating with one, how do you feel about having killed so many vampires for eight years?”

Buffy felt a surge of anger and she tamped it down as best she could. She’d never asked to be a Slayer, it was simply what she was. She was free to have a normal life now, and this twit was trying to stop her from enjoying herself by throwing up her past–something she had no reason to be ashamed of–in mixed company.

“Harmony,” she said. “I can honestly say I’d rather spend all night in Spike’s arms than patrolling cemeteries and crawling in sewers chasing criminals.” She smiled brightly at Harmony’s sudden frown. “I mean skating, of course.”

Harmony took a deep unneeded breath. “You know,” she began. “I’ve known Spike all my life. He’s a sensitive and colorful man. When Drusilla Gavin broke it off with him he was just crushed. It’s lucky for you you got to snag yourself a decent partner to make your career. I’d hate to see him disappointed if you end up not working out.”

“It would be impossible for Buffy Summers to upset me.”

Buffy half-turned from her waist and glanced at Spike. She bit her lip to stifle a gasp. He was splendid in white-tie evening clothes, tailored to perfection. The plain reality was the clothes didn’t matter. Buffy already knew everything beneath the tux was hard whipcord muscle and solid power. He trotted down the last few steps from the upper landing and strode purposefully towards the two women. He turned at a slight oblique angle as he approached Buffy’s left side and Buffy let out a soft whoop at the familiarity of his strong arm surrounding her waist and lifting her feet off the ground as he swung her round in a full circle. She laughed gently and he set her gently on her feet and gave Harmony a point-blank stare.

“Buffy and I are gonna be the greatest pairs team the world has ever seen,” he told her. His voice was kind but not terribly friendly. “We’re gonna do things you can’t imagine.”

“I’m sure you can, Spike,” Harmony’s voice was brittle. “But, she’s only human, even if she is a Slayer. You’ll never have enough time to really develop with her. She has what? Fifteen, maybe twenty years left to skate?”

“You’re a guest in my father’s house,” Spike said clearly. “Why don’t you go get a drink?”

Harmony pouted. Buffy watched her huff away to the buffet table where Angelus had large vats of pork and game blood in heated vats for his vampire guests.

“You cleaned up pretty, Slayer.” Spike offered her his arm. “Let’s dance.”

He drew her towards the immense dining hall which had been cleared of all furniture. A small band was situated in one corner performing some mellow rock. The trouble with really old vamps was that they lost track of time, Buffy thought with an amused smile. They probably thought Billy Joel was terribly new and mod in the twenty-first century. But she didn’t mind.

Spike drew her into the throng of dancing people. Buffy glanced around at the sea of happy faces. It wasn’t the most danceable music in the world but it didn’t matter. Spike drew her into his arms and she felt herself snuggle and settle her head against his hard chest. He purred pleasantly, she could feel the vibration of the sound against her cheek.

They moved together, a softly affectionate expression of their bodies’ closeness and ease with each other. People glanced and watched, amazed, as they seemed to move as a fluid unit, the movement of one answering the other. Harmony pouted indignantly as Spike closed his eyes and softly brushed his chin against the gossamer silk of Buffy’s hair.

Buffy’s eyes opened and she gazed up at Spike. He was watching her with that absolute attention that used to frighten her at first.

“You know I’m in love with you,” he told her. His voice was soft. Buffy glanced around them. She knew vampires had hearing vastly superior to humans and they had to have heard what he said. But no one was watching them.

“I love you, too.”

His eyes widened incredulously and Buffy almost wanted to laugh at him. How could he be so surprised? Did he really think she was so stupid she couldn’t see how he really felt? That she didn’t understand what had happened between them? The late practices, the workouts, the performances were only part of what they shared. It was the conversations in the airports and on busses that helped draw them closer, the books and movies they shared. The attraction would have faded into a professional appreciation for each other if it weren’t for the sincerity that bloomed between them. Had Spike really believed the love was only one-sided?

Buffy lifted one hand to cradle his hard-chiseled face in her palm and Spike closed his eyes and pressed his face against her fingers. She gripped his wrist for balance as she rose on her toes to kiss his face.

“But Riley–”

“Spike, I gave Riley back his ring a while ago,” Buffy explained. “I couldn’t be engaged to him when I knew I didn’t really love him. I thought he was a good guy, but he wasn’t right for me. I never felt–” her voice trailed off as Spike lifted her free hand and kissed the bare little finger. “I never felt this when I was with him.” She laughed softly. “You probably didn’t notice ‘cause I never wore it for practices.”

“So–you’re free.” Spike smiled softly, still shaking his head in amazement at his own luck.

Buffy smiled widely. “Yeah.”

His mouth clamped down on hers and Buffy groaned. They kissed hungrily, almost desperately, months of passion they’d never dared to express manifesting in the touch of their lips. Spike’s fingers tunneled into Buffy’s hair and Buffy leaned into him. They clung to one another like they were missing pieces of each other rejoined.

“We’re partners,” Spike declared in a low compelling whisper. “We’re a pair, Buffy, we’re together.”

“Yes,” Buffy whispered against his chest. “Partners.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

New Years Day 2005

Across from the dining hall, standing in the nearly deserted formal sitting-room, Angelus smiled ironically at his eldest son and his pretty partner embracing in the semidarkness and music. It meant an end to the proposed match with Harmony, but that was okay. It wouldn’t have gone over very well if Spike had agreed to marry the snooty vampiress and still wanted Buffy.

Some things were just meant to be and legal agreements didn’t stop them.

He spoke aloud without turning around. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

“I was invited. They make a really pretty couple.” Cordelia Chase stepped out of her quiet corner and walked over to Angelus. He glanced at her dispassionately. She wore a slim gown of midnight-blue taffeta. The scalloped slit in front bared her leg to the hip.

“Congratulations, on the win at U.K.,” she added softly. “You must really be proud.” She turned her face to the side and a long tendril of dark hair drifted over her cheek.

“Why’re you here?”

Cordelia swallowed. “I miss you,” she whispered. “I wanted to see you again.”

Angelus nodded. “Aren’t you a little afraid somebody will report you being seen at my home?” he asked cooly.

“No. I’m not.”

Angelus met her eyes, serious and resolute. His eyebrows rose.

“You know I wanna marry you?” he asked. “I’m not interested in having you under the table so you can maintain some sunshine-girl image.” He reached out, tender strong fingers tracing the side of her face. “All or nothing, Cordy. You’re sure you’re ready?”

Cordelia flashed a faltering smile. “If the sunshine-girl image won’t work, I’ll just try something else.” She ruffled the back of his hair with her hand. “Maybe I can be a femme fatale instead of a girl next door.”

Angelus managed to control the shiver in his back from Cordelia’s touch. He drew the tall elegantly dressed brunette into a one-armed hug. Her pretty brown eyes grew brilliant with tears.

“I’m sorry, Angel,” she whispered. “I love you so much, I don’t want to be apart from you.”

Angelus kissed her brow gently, then began a trail of gentle kisses over her eyelids, her silky lashes and the bridge of her nose.

“Shhh...” he soothed her.

She hugged him tightly and they kissed. Softly, at first, then more forcefully, hungrily, the appetite of missing each other for nearly a month.

Angelus smiled down at Cordelia contentedly as she rested her head against his shoulder and her scent rose up to him. He glanced back over to the dining hall where Buffy and Spike were dancing in a warm embrace that took them to some other world, separate from everyone else, just like when they were on the ice.

There would be a lot to celebrate in the coming new year. He could hardly wait.

~The End~

Author’s Notes: Thank you very much for reading “Partners.” I hope you enjoyed it!

Since the original challenge was to focus on a “Spuffy” fic based upon the ‘80's film “The Cutting Edge” I deemed it necessary to depict the characters in alternate reality where vampires were at least socially acceptable. I also wanted to maintain the significance of the Slayer’s role so in this reality the Slayer works in cooperation with law enforcement to help hunt and kill rogue criminal vampires. Also, I had to add a little Angelus (Angel)/Cordelia because I really do enjoy writing those two characters. Buffy and Spike characterisations aren’t my strength in fan fiction but I like to think I did a good depiction here. (I portray Buffy as being even more isolated/introverted than in the show because, in this reality, she would have been separated from family and friends to pursue her “higher calling.”

I may present an NC-17 version of this fic in the future, I haven’t really decided yet.

As always, constructive feedback is appreciated. Thank you!

PJ