Chapter 1: Only the Lonely Spike walked slowly through his bedroom. He was
a handsome man, 19 years of age. The age when people are just starting out in
their lives. He wore a pair of faded, holey blue jeans with a black leather
belt, a Sid Vicious t-shirt and black combat boots. His long-fingered hands were
decorated with silver rings; he wore a padlock necklace on a chain around his
neck; his nails were painted black, the polish was chipped. White-blonde, spiky
hair shone in the light like a beacon. His soulful, dark blue eyes were kohl
lined. Sunlight streamed through the second-floor window. Millions of tiny dust
motes danced in the golden shafts. He put his hand through one beam, disrupting
the motes momentarily before they built back up again. "Well, that's enough fun
for one day," Spike drawled sarcastically. Everything looked the same as always.
Nothing different. Nothing changed. Nothing ever happened. He crossed to the
window and looked out at the jungle-like vegetation of the front yard and
sighed. His eyes scanned the yard for the--how many times had he looked at it?
It had to have been at least a thousand times. He absently flicked at the tatty
white drapes framing the broken window. "This is what I'm reduced to..." Spike
said sadly. "Watchin' a bloody garden for entertainment..." He was so tired of
this place. Why couldn't he just leave again? He couldn't remember. It was
frustrating. He'd be about to remember something, something important, then it
would slip through his grasp. Maybe he would try to leave...later. Right now, he
just wanted to look out the window. Would his cousin Darla call him downstairs
for lunch soon? No--he remembered then. Darla was dead. "I'm dead," Spike said
to the empty room. "Everyone's dead." That's right. He forgot that sometimes. He
forgot that a lot, actually. He knew that there were others like him in the
house, disembodied spirits. He saw them sometimes, going from room to room, sad
and pained expressions on their faces. They usually didn't seem to notice him.
He would call out, desperate for someone to talk to, for some companionship, but
they would continue on their way, not even stopping to glance at him. Some were
raving, having gone mad long ago, but most just glided through the halls
projecting pain and despair. Weren't they lonely too? Didn't they want to talk
to another person? Occasionally, one of the others would stop and look at him.
They didn't seem to know what to make of him. They would whisper their words,
making it difficult to carry on a conversation with them. How long had he been
here? Probably a long time. It felt like a bloody eternity. He sighed again. He
was so alone, so utterly alone. But--something told him to keep it together.
Something would happen, something would come for him or to him. Whether it was
good or bad, he didn't know. But something would happen...eventually. He just
had to be patient and wait. His body became increasingly more transparent until
he faded away completely. A week later... Buffy Summers pulled up in front of
the dilapidated house in her red jeep. Buffy was 21 years old and an aspiring
artist. Art had always been a passion for her. Her mother Joyce had instilled a
love of art in her from an early age. That was what she wanted to do with her
life, and thanks to a good-sized inheritance from her late Aunt Prudence, she
was free to follow her dream. She quickly got out and looked at her new
property. The house was run-down, the paint was peeling, the shutters were
either gone all together or hanging on by a thread, and the grounds were overrun
with vegetation. But she smiled like she was looking at the Taj Mahal. When she
Willow and Xander bought this place, they knew they'd have a major fixer-upper
on their hands. That's what they wanted. Buffy couldn't believe their luck. She
remembered the day that they found this place. They were driving through the
country on their way back to L.A. They had been looking for a place to buy
together for a few months with no luck. All the places they'd seen didn't leap
out at Buffy, didn't grab her. Willow and Xander were getting impatient, ready
to take anything. But Buffy held firm. Then she'd seen it from the road as they
drove by. Buffy had scared the crap out of Xander by shouting for him to stop
the car. They stopped and Buffy got out, walking quickly up to the open front
gates. Willow and Xander joined her, staring at the old mansion. Buffy had felt
something click in her head when she set eyes on the place. This was their
house. This was the house she had been waiting to see. Something about it called
out to her. Buffy had seen this place before, in her dreams. Only in the dreams
it was immaculate. She needed to make it look like that again. She felt driven.
The house was a Tudor-style mansion, built sometime in the early 1900's as a
mission, according to the real estate agent, Warren Mears. He had been
unenthusiastic and downright rude until Buffy told him they wanted the house.
His face had lit up and he became very cordial and friendly. Willow had asked
why such a big and formerly fancy place hadn't been sold in 25 years. Warren
explained that the house needed so much work that less adventurous people were
afraid to take it on, and he thought that they had the 'right stuff' to get the
job done. He was clearly stroking their egos. The guy was a weasel, but Buffy
was determined to buy that house. Now, it was hers. Well, hers, Willow and
Xander's. It was perfect. Buffy would have peace and quiet to paint and sculpt,
Xander would be able to fix the place up with his carpentry skills and Willow
could work on the computer software programs she was developing. And when it was
all finished, they would have a beautiful mansion to call their own. "This is
gonna take awhile," Buffy said out loud. "But it's so going to be--" She halted
when she noticed some movement in an upstairs window. Buffy stepped into the
overgrown front yard, squinting up at the window. Was someone in there? Whatever
she had seen, or thought she'd seen wasn't there anymore. Buffy laughed
nervously. "Take it easy. It was just the breeze blowing curtains around. No
one's in there. If I'm going to spend the whole night here alone, I'd better get
a helluva lot tougher." She went back to the jeep to get her gear and some
supplies out of the back. Spike stood by the window, as he usually did at this
time of day. A jeep pulled up in front of the property. He cocked his head to
the side. Not many people stopped here. It was pathetic that he was getting so
excited about the new element in his day. His life (or afterlife) was so
predictable and lonely that even a looky-loo who would probably just get right
back in their car, made him happy. A blonde woman got out of the jeep and
approached the house. She looked pretty. That was nice. Spike rarely saw
anything beautiful. He sighed, wishing he could say 'Hello' to her, and ask her
not to leave. The woman looked up at his window. Spike was startled at first.
Could she see him? Some ghost-y instinct told him to hide, not to let her see
him. He moved away from the window, his phantom heart beating wildly in his
chest. After a minute, he chanced another peek out at her. She was returning to
her car. Spike felt like crying. She was leaving and would never come back. No
one ever did. But then...she was coming back. She had a big sleeping bag rolled
up under one arm and carried a box in the other. She was going to come in the
house. He could at least have the company of a warm, live soul for the night.
Spike wanted to be near her, to feel her life-force, and just to look at her.
The closer she came to the house, the more lovely she became. She was beautiful.
The sunlight played in her hair, making it look like spun gold. A memory tickled
the back of his mind. There was something familiar about this woman...but he
couldn't remember what it was. Hopefully, it would come to him. He wondered if
the others would bother her tonight. He wouldn't want them to scare her off, he
wanted this girl to stay as long as possible. Spike decided to run interference
and keep the other ghosties away from her. This was an unexpected treat for him
and he intended to make the most of every second that the girl was here. Chapter
2: Close Encounters Buffy set to work immediately. She opened all the windows on
the first floor. The musty smell of decay was powerful and pungent in the house.
The place had been closed up for 25 years so it was bound to be pretty bad. With
that done, she went through the living room, looking under the sheets that
covered the furniture. All of it was beautiful and it only needed to be cleaned
and some of it re-upholstered. Buffy wondered why all of this had been left
behind by the original owners. There seemed to have been an attempt at removing
things from the house (there were some boxes piled with books and knick-knacks
sitting on the floor), but most everything still seemed to be in place. Probably
just as it had been when the house was abandoned. Thick layers of dust covered
everything. A big, ornate mirror hung above the marble fireplace. Buffy was
polishing it. She knew that there were more immediate tasks that needed to be
done, but the mirror was so pretty, she wanted to clean it up. After a lot of
scrubbing and polishing, it was clean. Buffy stood back and brushed some hair
away from her damp forehead. She smiled at her reflection. She gasped when she
saw a man standing a few feet behind her and spun around. No one was there.
Buffy turned back to the mirror quickly but only saw herself. Her heart was
beating thunderously. She put her hand over her chest and laughed at her own
overactive imagination. "Whoa, there I go again." She looked back into the
mirror. "I could have sworn..." She shook her head and went back to cleaning.
The man had seemed familiar somehow. Buffy had only caught a glimpse of him, but
something was definitely familiar. She dispelled the wacky thoughts and
concentrated on dusting. Spike watched her as she cleaned in the living room.
She was adorable and so petite; he wanted to scoop her up in his arms, if only
he could. The longer he watched her, the more that feeling he should be
remembering something associated with her nagged at him. 'What could it be? I
couldn't have seen her before...could I?' Spike thought. Then it came to him. He
hadn't seen her in person, but in dreams. Dreams that he'd had since he was a
boy. In them, the pretty blonde girl would smile at him and hold his hand. As he
got older, the dreams became increasingly more erotic and adult in nature. Spike
recalled one that he'd had quite a few times where the two of them were in bed
making love. He'd awakened soaked with sweat and other fluids after those. Spike
was elated at the realization that she was the one he'd dreamed about. She truly
and literally was the girl of his dreams...The problem was that he was dead now.
Not much of a chance for any kind of future with her. He'd always had terrible
timing, but this took the cake. He shook off the moroseness that threatened to
overwhelm him, and attempted to just enjoy being around her. Spike moved closer
to her as she cleaned the mirror. He'd always liked that mirror too. It would be
nice to see it shined up after so long. Spike jumped when Buffy saw him in the
mirror and spun around. He held his non-existent breath when she was facing him.
Could she still see him? He felt disappointed when it was obvious that she
didn't. He knew he shouldn't let her see him, but he wanted some interaction
with another person so badly...especially his dream girl. But then again, he
didn't want to frighten her either. And the living were notoriously scared when
they saw apparitions. He'd seen enough 'Abbott and Costello' and '3 Stooges'
films to know that much. Spike glumly left the room and went back to his
bedroom, leaving his golden goddess alone for awhile. Before evening came, Buffy
went upstairs to stake out her bedroom. Since she was the one who found the
place and was the first one here, she intended to claim the master bedroom. But
as she was passing another room, she stopped. She pushed open the door and
peeked inside. It was a spacious bedroom with a large oak bed against one wall
and a long dresser with a giant mirror on the wall opposite the bed. Something
about this particular room called to her. Buffy walked in with her cleaning
supplies and looked around. Plush, but very dusty, Persian rugs lay on the
hardwood floor. Buffy got on her knees and began rolling up the rugs to get them
ready for cleaning and to fix a place on the floor for her sleeping bag. Her
eyes went to the broken window. Was that the window that she thought she saw
someone in? She stood up and looked out. Yep. This would have been the same
window. Buffy fingered the old tattered draperies. It must have been the drapes
that she saw moving from a breeze. In the back of her mind a tiny voice spoke
up, 'What if it was a ghost? Old places like these are always haunted...' Out
loud, she said, "Oh, there's no such thing as ghosts...no such thing. That's
just--silly kid's stuff." Spike had watched her for a while before wandering
away again. He didn't want her to accidentally get another glimpse of him and
get scared again. As much as he craved her company, he resigned himself to
keeping watch from a distance, just to make sure none of the others disturbed or
frightened her. "I wonder what her name is...probably something to do with
moonlight--soft and yielding..." Spike waxed poetic. He sighed. She'd be gone in
the morning. No one ever stayed. Then he'd be alone again. Maybe forever. Buffy
laid on top of her sleeping bag on the bedroom floor. Her battery-powered
lantern was glowing brightly next to her. The evening was hot and muggy, making
her wish for air-conditioning or at least a fan. Hell, she'd settle for a cool
breeze. And she really needed a shower after all the dusting she'd done that
day. Buffy was trying to go over the tasks she wanted to accomplish the next
morning but her mind kept wandering. She couldn't help but wonder about the
bedroom. Whose room had it once been? It was a man, judging by the more deep and
masculine colors present. She was anxious to explore the room and find out more
about the former occupant by the things he had left behind. She'd found a
tattered and faded 'Sex Pistols' poster that had fallen behind the dresser. She
couldn't imagine someone who lived in a luxurious mansion being into punk rock.
It had made her giggle. What had the guy been like? She had a strange compulsion
to find out. Buffy squirmed a bit. She had been feeling kind of horny the whole
trip up to the mansion. Since she was alone in the house tonight, she decided to
take care of herself and help relieve some of the anxiety she had about being
alone. Buffy reached into her duffel bag and brought out 'Old Faithful', her
trusty vibrator. Unlike the men she'd had in her life, 'O.F.' had never let her
down. She slipped off her pajama bottoms and her panties then spread her legs.
Spike drifted into the bedroom, curious about the strange buzzing sound he heard
from the hallway. He stared, dumbstruck, at the petite blonde as she
masturbated. He reacted much as a flesh and blood male would. He was turned on,
very turned on. He floated closer to get a better look. Spike knew it wasn't
proper or polite to observe someone doing this, but he couldn't help himself. It
had been a long time since he'd even thought about sex. He was fascinated. It
also brought back choice snippets of those dreams he'd had and he longed to
touch her like he did in them. Buffy groaned in frustration. It wasn't working.
For some reason, she just couldn't 'get there'. Suddenly, she felt a slight
chill, which felt wonderful on her hot, sweaty skin. The lantern light began
flickering. "What the hell?" Buffy said in surprise. Before the light could go
out for good, Buffy sat up and dug into her duffel bag for a few fat pillar
candles. She lit a few of them and sat them nearby on the floor just as the
lantern went out. Buffy still wanted--needed--to get off something fierce, so
she laid back down and re-applied the vibrator to her pussy. A minute later,
that quit working too. "Goddammit!" Buffy cursed. "Stupid fucking batteries! I
just changed the damn things! Radio Shack is on my shit list!" She wanted to
scream with sexual frustration. Tossing the vibrator back into her bag, she laid
back down with her legs still spread wide. She spread her nether lips with her
fingers--as if she were waiting for someone to help her out. Spike had never
wanted to be alive or solid again more than he did right now. He felt the sexual
need, his cock was painfully hard (well, it felt that way to him anyway), but he
couldn't do anything about it, or about helping the young beauty out...or could
he? Would she want him to if he could? She was so lovely and she wanted release
so bad... It didn't occur to Spike that it was his presence that disrupted the
power to her lantern and vibrator. In his highly excited state, he was
unknowingly affecting the power sources. He watched as she tilted her head back
and rubbed up and down her spread lips lightly. "Please..." Buffy said
plaintively, not knowing why she was saying it. 'Is she asking me to touch her?
Does she know that I'm here on some level?' Spike wondered. He moved to her,
kneeling down between her legs, gazing at her wide open sex. He reached out a
hand slowly, touching her labia with a fore-finger. Buffy's eyes shot wide open
and she gasped at the coldness touching her mound. She looked down her body but
didn't see what could be making her feel it. Spike smiled in delight and
surprise. She had felt it. And he had felt her. He had to concentrate hard to
make it happen but he had done it. It wasn't a completely solid touch, his hand
still tended to pass through her, but he was able to create some resistance,
enough for them both to feel the contact. He wanted to weep at the feel of
another person's body after an eternity. He looked at her face, to gauge her
enjoyment or fear. There was some fear, but she wasn't jumping away or closing
her legs, so he went back to touching her. He slid his fingers over and inside
her labia and rubbed her clit while still watching her face for a sign that he
should stop. "Oh! OH! Yesss!" Buffy moaned as the phantom fingers explored her
crevice. She was afraid, but her excitement surpassed it. The sensations were
incredible. It felt kind of like someone was sliding a piece of ice around her
red-hot pussy. Spike was breathing hard (he forgot that he didn't need to). She
was really enjoying it. He wondered if he'd be able to taste her. Taking his
hand off of her, he bent forward. Buffy groaned when the sensations stopped.
Spike stuck his tongue out and concentrated on making it solid. He leaned in and
licked the inside of her slit from bottom to top in a quick stroke. "Ahhhh!"
Buffy's body jerked. "Oh God!" she panted. "What was that?! And--please let it
happen again!" Spike's long-dead taste buds were bursting from her juices. He
could taste her! Her flavor was sweet and rich, like the sweetest honey in the
world. He couldn't remember the last thing he'd tasted, but he was sure it
wouldn't have compared to this. Spike smirked then dived back into her honey pot
for more. After dipping his tongue inside her a few times, he used a technique a
friend of his had told him once, licking the alphabet. Buffy gasped and panted
as what felt like a tongue--a long, cold, amazing tongue--pleasured her. It
stroked up, down, inside the lips and made circles around her clit. It would
wriggle into her hole and thrust in and out rapidly before going back to
stroking patterns over her clit that were making her dizzy with pleasure. It was
crazy, it was weird, but it was also unbelievably, incredibly good. It was the
most bizarre yet wonderful thing she'd ever experienced. Better than any ride at
Disneyland, that's for sure. Buffy could feel the tongue moving on her, but it
was almost unsubstantial, like it could easily go right through her pussy
instead of lapping at it. She looked down again, still nothing there. But, boy,
did she feel it! 'It's a ghost...I'm getting eaten out by a ghost!' Buffy's
thoughts screamed. But still, she held herself open for the invasion. She
couldn't stop if she wanted to, what he (it?) was doing felt far too good. Spike
tried sucking on her clit, but his lips couldn't become firm enough. He settled
for using his tongue only. He wanted to make her cum; she really appeared to
need it. He tongued her harder and faster, flicking her nubbin rapidly. He was
up to the letter 'Q' in the alphabet. Buffy's eyes rolled back as her orgasm
crashed over her. "Uhhnnnga! OH--OH GOD! YES!" She bucked her hips at the
invisible tongue, looking down at herself. She was spellbound by the way her
clit was moving back and forth, seemingly on its own. Slowly, she began to come
back down. The tongue was removed from her pussy. Buffy sat up and darted her
eyes around. "H-hello?" Buffy said in a small voice. "Um--Hi...my name's Buffy.
Thanks for--Wow--for doing that...I guess that means you're a friendly ghost,
right?" she asked hopefully with a nervous giggle. "Can--I see you? Will you let
me? I won't be afraid..." Spike licked her juices from his lips and tried to
speak to her. Buffy thought she heard something, like leaves gently rustling in
a breeze. Was he trying to talk to her? "I can't hear you..." Buffy said,
trembling with excitement. "Can you try to talk louder?" 'Bugger.' Spike
thought. He'd used up too much energy giving her oral sex. He felt himself
fading out. Promising himself he'd see her again before she left, he faded away.
As soon as Spike's presence was gone, the lantern came back on and the vibrator
started buzzing loudly inside of the duffel bag. Buffy jumped then reached in
the bag to turn O.F. off. She wouldn't be needing it tonight. She pulled her
pants back on and laid there, staring at the ceiling. Her mind was racing a mile
a minute. Buffy had just received oral sex, great oral sex, from a spirit and
had a helluva 'poltergasm' as a result. That fact alone was crazy enough by
itself, but add to that the fact that she wanted it to happen again...and
again... Buffy knew she should be terrified, she should be running, screaming
from this house...She didn't know why she felt a kind of--trust? bond?--with the
very friendly ghost. She knew instinctually that he wouldn't harm her. Chapter
3: Do That To Me One More Time The next morning, Buffy explored the grounds a
little. There was a lot of work to be done out here, too. But it was going to be
spectacular when they were finished. There were trees and wildflowers covering
the ground: Lupines, Butterfly Plants, Palm, Oaks, Pines and Redwoods, as well
as various fruit trees. They could pluck an apple off one of their own trees
whenever they wanted. Maybe Buffy could even learn to make stuff like jam and
apple sauce. Buffy came across a large pond in the rear of the house. It was
boggy and gross at the moment, but she could see how it would look once they
worked on it. It would be so cool to sit out here and sketch it. Maybe they
could get some ducks and frogs to live in it. A white structure caught her eye.
She moved through the thick grass towards it. She laughed happily when she saw
it was a gazebo. She'd always wanted one of those. Now she had one. It only
needed to be fixed up like the rest of the property and it would be good as new.
Buffy got the urge to look back at the house. Again, she thought she saw
something or someone moving by one of the windows. A secret smile touched her
lips. Was that her ghostly lover? She wanted to make 'contact' with him again,
not just in a sexual way, but also to find out who he was. It was so
exhilarating. After never really believing in the paranormal before, she was
made a true believer last night. The afterlife was real. Ghosts were real. Buffy
never thought that she'd have an experience like this. The best part was that
this was her home too now. She and Casper (since he was obviously very friendly,
and she didn't know his name, Casper would have to suffice) could have many more
nights together in the future. Buffy had broken up with her last boyfriend,
Riley Finn, a year ago. She got tired of his philandering ways and his
condescending attitude. She hadn't gone out on another date since. So last night
Casper gave her the first orgasm she'd had in a long time that wasn't caused by
her own actions. She wanted to seek him out, but she needed to go into town to
call Willow and find a place to take a shower first. "Tonight. I hope you'll
talk to me tonight," Buffy said, walking back to the house. That evening, Buffy
was settling onto her sleeping bag again after another day of back-breaking
work. Willow and Xander were going to be arriving tomorrow morning. A day later
than they were supposed to, as some last minute stuff came up that couldn't be
avoided. Buffy was pleased at the progress that she'd made today. She'd dragged
the old mattresses out front and ordered three new ones while in town to be
delivered in the morning. The living room was looking cleaner but she couldn't
wait until the electricity was turned on--those carpets really needed hoovering.
She'd begun to clear out the enormous kitchen, but Willow wanted to tackle that
room when she arrived. She'd contracted a company to come and replace the broken
windows which would cost a pretty penny, but she had the money for it thanks to
Aunt Prudence. The electricians and plumbers would be coming out too within the
week. Things were coming along nicely. Buffy hadn't seen or heard a peep from
Casper after she got back from town. She decided to call him out again. She sat
Indian-style on her sleeping bag and looked around the room. "Hello? Are--you
there? I want to talk to you," Buffy said. "Hello?" Buffy was disappointed. She
had hoped to have another visit tonight. Spike heard her calling and glided into
the room. She wanted to talk to him and she wasn't afraid. He was chuffed to
bits that she wanted him to come to her. He was feeling stronger today. He mused
that drinking in her essence had given him more energy. Goosebumps broke out on
her skin at the sudden draft that accompanied his presence. Buffy rubbed her
arms. "Are--you here? Um--knock on something if you're here." Buffy tried to
remember all the ghost movies she'd seen and how the people talked to the
spirits. Spike went to the large dresser and concentrated on making his hand
more solid, then rapped on the top. Buffy jumped slightly then laughed
nervously, "Wow. Okay. Wow." She swallowed a lump in her throat. She was talking
to him, sort of. "You're a--nice ghost, right?" Spike smirked and knocked once
on the dresser again. Buffy smiled. "This is so cool! Um--you were the one
that--was with me last night?" She blushed. Knock. "Why did you do--that to me?
Oh, sorry--you can't answer if it's not 'yes' or 'no'...Did you--like doing it?"
Spike gave the dresser an extra loud rap. "Are you by the mirror?" Buffy asked,
looking at the mirror on top of the dresser. Knock. Buffy stood up and walked
slowly over. She could feel his presence strongly there. "I can feel you.
You're--right around here, aren't you?" Buffy waved her hands in the air in the
general area where he stood. Knock. This was a lot more than Spike was used to,
but he wanted more. He wanted her to be able to see him; he wanted to be able to
talk to her. Buffy's eyes widened as a man-sized shape began to form in front of
her. Spike slowly materialized. He was transparent; Buffy could see the room
through his body, but she could see him. "Oh--Oh God...I can see you!" Buffy
smiled and gasped. Spike looked down at himself and smiled, then looked back
into her eyes. Her green eyes were wide and her smile was one of wonderment.
"You're the 'Sex Pistols' fan, obviously," Buffy said, making out the words 'Sex
Pistols' on his t-shirt. Her heart was thudding. Not only was she seeing her
first ghost, but this particular ghost had gone down on her. He was not the
usual type of guy she went out with in appearance at all. Somehow she always
ended up with big, hulking, college-going, Sasquatch types (from what she could
tell from his slightly blurry and translucent form he was about 5'10" and much
slimmer). He kind of resembled the man in her dreams...She wished his features
were more defined so that she could really see what he looked like. "I wish I
knew your name..." Buffy gazed into his transparent eyes. Spike smiled and held
up an index finger then put it to the dusty mirror. He wrote his name carefully.
"Spike?" Buffy giggled. "That's your name?" He nodded. "That's a nickname,
right?" He nodded and smiled. Then, wrote the name 'William' under 'Spike'.
"William. I always liked that name," Buffy said, still not totally believing
that this was happening--it was extraordinary. "It's a cute guy's name." Spike
pointed to the name 'Spike' then pointed to himself, indicating that's the one
he preferred. Buffy nodded. "How did--how did you--you know--die?" Buffy asked
gently. Spike frowned. He sometimes forgot, but it came to him. The muscles of
his face rippled with emotion at the remembrance. He made a few downward
stabbing motions with his arm. "Stabbed? You were stabbed?" Buffy asked sadly.
Spike nodded. "Did they catch the guy?" He shook his head 'no'. "I'm--I'm
sorry...that must make it worse." She didn't know what to say. He nodded. "You
live here?" He smiled again and nodded. "I do too--you don't mind, do you? I've
heard that ghosts don't like it when living people move into their houses..."
Spike shook his head, letting her know that he didn't mind her being her in the
least. His eyes drifted down her body. He wanted to touch her again. Buffy
noticed the way he was looking at her. She felt herself heating up.
"Do--you...ummm--want to do what you did last night--again?" She bit her lip. A
big smile stretched across his face as he nodded vigorously. Buffy pulled her
top over her head and shimmied out of her pants, then moved to the sleeping bag
and lay on her back. She was breathing rapidly and looking intently at her
supernatural lover. Spike walked to her, his eyes raking over her nubile body.
What he wouldn't give to be alive again, to give her a good seeing to. He
kneeled down again, looking into her eyes. Buffy spread her legs for him. This
wasn't smart, it was crazy. She knew that. She just couldn't help herself.
Tentatively, Spike tried touching her knee. He smiled when he was able to apply
a light touch to her skin. It felt so smooth and warm. Buffy shivered. His touch
was cold, but not freezing. It felt so good in contrast to her hot flesh. He put
his other hand on the opposite knee and ran both his hands up to her waist.
"Ohhh--Yes--touch me!" Buffy breathed. Spike's form started fading until he was
barely there. "No! Don't go!" Buffy said in alarm. Spike stroked her thighs as
strongly as he could, to let her know he wasn't vanishing. He was using up a lot
of energy by touching her and he had to let his image fade if he wanted to
continue. And he did want to continue. "You're still here--but I can't see you
anymore...". Buffy moaned when she felt his hands drag up her torso to her
breasts. She watched as he kneaded the soft mounds with invisible hands. She
could feel his rings on her skin. Buffy gasped when his wet tongue licked one of
her nipples. Spike decided to try again to make his lips work. He put his mouth
on her breast and sucked lightly. It worked. He moaned as he suckled at her,
flicking the nipple with his tongue. "Mmmmm--Oh! Ahhhh!" Buffy writhed. Spike
went to the other nipple, kissing and licking at it before sucking it up
zealously. His hand slid between her thighs and rubbed her mound.
"Oh--Spike--God!" Buffy gasped in delight. Her heat was scalding him in a good
way, a very good way. He licked a lazy trail down her stomach to her groin. This
time, he opened her lips himself. Spike enthusiastically began devouring her.
"Spike--Ahhhh--Ohhhh--Oh yeah!!" Buffy tried to put her hands in his hair, but
her hands met only air. Instead, she put her hands on her breasts to touch
herself while he brought her off. Buffy wondered if she'd be able to do anything
to him. She wanted to. She wanted to make him happy, to give him pleasure.
Especially since he'd had such a tragic ending to his life. If anyone deserved a
happy, it was someone who'd been murdered. Spike was able to fuck her with his
tongue while playing with her clit. It would be great if they could actually
have sex, but that wasn't possible. It would take too much of his energy. But he
could give her this and he was enjoying it almost as much as she did. He
switched to fucking her with his fingers while sucking on her clit. He explored
her hole with two fingers, searching for that elusive spot. Spike grinned when
his fingers came into contact with a little bump inside her walls. He pushed on
it slowly in a gentle rhythm while he tongued her clit. Buffy's back arched
suddenly as she came hard, shouting his name. For the first time ever, she
didn't just cum, she actually ejaculated. Her fluids shot out of her forcefully.
It felt so weird but oh-so-amazing. None of her flesh and blood boyfriends had
ever given her head this good. "SPIKE! YESYESYES! AHHH! OH--OH GOOD GOD!" Buffy
thrashed her head from side to side, shaking and jerking her hips in the best
orgasm that she'd ever had. It continued for several minutes, during which she
grinned like a maniac and panted as she spasmed around his ghostly fingers. He
licked up her juices and stimulated her G-spot until he felt himself starting to
fade again. His happiness at touching her and making her feel good, as well as
reveling in the taste of her deliciousness, turned to sadness when he realized
that he had to leave her now. He placed a worshipful kiss to her mons and was
gone. Buffy sat up, propped up on her elbows, still panting. "Spike?" She
couldn't feel him anymore, his hands, tongue or his presence. She dropped back
down and sighed heavily. That made two encounters of the sexual kind she'd had
with him. And the second time he vanished afterwards. Already, she was looking
forward to the next night. Buffy was in love. She was in love with a ghost who
could make her cum like a rocketship. "My life just got a whole lot weirder..."
Chapter 4: Settling In The next morning, Buffy woke up with a satisfied smile on
her face. She had been dreaming about her lover and the wonderfully wicked
things he could do with his tongue and hands. She hoped that he would visit her
again tonight. There was a lot to be done this morning. With a sigh she got up
and stretched to begin her day. After a few hours, Buffy took a break and went
back up to the bedroom--half-hoping that Spike would be there waiting for her.
Regardless, she wanted to explore his room more to get an idea of who he had
been. Buffy dragged a big, black steamer trunk out of the closet. There was a
lock on it that she didn't have the key for, so she abandoned it for the moment,
going back into the closet. Most of the clothes were ruined, but there was a
long, leather duster coat that still looked good; it was surprisingly unsullied
by time. She took it out and fingered the soft leather. Although the temperature
was in the 80's today, she just had to slip it on for a minute. Buffy pulled the
coat closed and looked down at herself with a smile. He had worn this and it
still smelled like him. She closed her eyes and inhaled: Tobacco, leather and an
amazingly stubborn clean and fresh smell. How had the scents lingered after what
must have been a very, very long time? Without taking off the coat, Buffy
rummaged around some more. She found a guitar case and an amp. Inside the case
was an ice-blue metallic electric guitar with 'Fender' written on it. She
strummed it lightly. A big box in the closet contained audio tapes and record
albums. His musical tastes were all over the place: Beatles, The Sex Pistols,
Cheap Trick, Queen, Jimi Hendrix, Atlanta Rhythm Section, Bob Seger, Miles
Davis, John Lee Hooker, Led Zeppelin, Blue Oyster Cult (wasn't that a funny name
for a band?), etc. A lot of the bands Buffy hadn't even heard of. She'd make it
a point to listen to some of them--to experience the same things that her
ghostly lover had. There was also an old portable record player in the closet.
Once the power to the house was turned on she wanted to see if it still worked.
In the nightstand Buffy found some of his other belongings: Nail clippers, a
pack of ancient-looking cigarettes and lighter, scissors, a bottle of black nail
polish and tube of black eyeliner, rings, bracelets and necklaces, a key that
probably went to the trunk, and ironically, a paperback copy of Stephen King's
'The Shining'. In the back of the drawer, Buffy found a leather-bound journal.
She laid it on her lap and was about to open it when she stopped. It would be
invading his privacy to read it. She desperately wanted to know him, but she
didn't want to read his personal thoughts unless he said it was okay. Carefully,
Buffy replaced the book in the drawer and closed it. She decided to leave the
trunk closed for now, too. "I hope he's not mad that I was looking through his
stuff..." Buffy worried her bottom lip between her teeth. Willow and Xander
pulled up around 10 a.m. in Xander's truck. Buffy bounded out of the house to
greet them. "Hey guys!" Buffy waved. Willow climbed out of the car, rubbing her
butt. "Owww! My butt fell asleep, help!" Willow clenched her teeth and hissed.
"I'll take care of that problem for ya, little lady," Xander said, moving up
behind her. "Bend over, I'll wake it up." "Ewww!" Willow giggled and smacked him
on the arm. "Get away, you big perv!" Buffy gave each of her friends a big hug.
"Sorry about being a day late, Buff. Were you okay here in the house by
yourself?" Xander asked, looking at the house with trepidation. The place
creeped him out, but he didn't want to seem like a big girly-man in front of his
friends. There was no way in hell that he would spend the night alone in there.
"Yeah, it's okay. I was--so busy with the cleaning and everything." Buffy
blushed a little, thinking about the other ways she had found to pass the time.
She couldn't tell them about Spike. They'd think she was nuts and call the guys
with the straitjackets and big butterfly nets. "Oh, I'm so excited to get
started!" Willow clapped her hands together. "This place is gonna rock when we
get it all fixed up!" "Yeah, sometime in the year 2525," Xander said. "This
place looks like the Munsters' house...only not as neat and tidy." "Thanks,
Killjoy." Buffy punched him lightly in the arm. "Hey!" Xander rubbed his arm.
"What is this? Whack-A-Xander day?" "How about a little enthusiasm?" Buffy
asked. "Would it kill you?" "It might," Xander joked. "You can never be too
careful." "Come on guys, I'll show you what I've done so far! And they delivered
our mattresses this morning! Yay!" Buffy skipped up to the house. "Wow, she's a
lot happier than I thought she'd be after we left her alone for two days,"
Willow commented as she got some bags out of the truck. "Yeah, I thought she'd
be pissed." "She was pretty excited about the house. She really seems to love
this place." Willow started up the walkway. "Don't know how that's possible...."
Xander said. "This place...is just weird." Buffy, Xander and Willow sat at one
end of the long dining room table finishing up their sandwiches. It was fully
dark outside. Their lanterns and some candles provided the only light. Xander
had brought along a battery powered boom box for something to listen to.
Currently, his 'Hits of the 80's' CD was playing. Xander hummed and sang along
in a bad British accent: "We can dance if you wannu we can leave your friends
behind cause your friends don't dance and if they don't dance well they're no
friends of mine--" Buffy and Willow laughed. Willow put her hand to her face,
trying not to spray Yoo-Hoo out her nose. "Is that a slam against my singing?"
Xander asked in mock-offense. "Didn't know I could get jiggy with it, did ya? I
could perform for the crowned-heads of Europe with this golden throat of mine."
"Do they still behead people? 'Cause I'm thinking that's the reaction you'd
get," Buffy giggled. Willow finally swallowed her drink with an effort. "I think
they discontinued use of the guillotine, but they might bring the old girl back
into service for Xander." "I don't have to sit here and take this kind of
abuse," Xander said, not making a move to get up. "Wait, yes I do. It's dark and
scary everywhere else." "Oh, it's not so bad," Willow said, taking a bite of her
sandwich. There was a creaking noise. Xander jumped. "What the fuck was that?"
"Chill, Xan." Willow munched. "Old houses make settling sounds like that all the
time." Buffy was about to take a drink when she saw Spike enter the room. His
form was still a bit dark and hazy, but she could see his smile. He smirked at
her and waved. She smiled and was about to wave back when she caught herself.
They probably couldn't see him. "Hey, what are you all blushy about?" Xander
asked, looking at Buffy. "Hmm? Blushy? I'm not--blushy." Buffy ducked her head.
"You are too. See it, Wills?" "Oh, leave her alone. Maybe she had a naughty
thought..." Willow grinned. "Cut it out!" Buffy said, rolling her eyes. She did
have a naughty thought. A very naughty thought. She imagined Spike, her phantom
lover, under the table, touching her and putting his mouth on her while she sat
talking with her friends. Spike looked at Buffy, nodded, then turned to leave.
"No!" Buffy said without thinking--she wanted him to stay. Willow and Xander
looked at her. "Huh?" "Umm--I was saying no--because...I thought it was regular
instead of diet," Buffy said holding up her can of Coke. Her friends wrinkled
their foreheads but didn't pursue the matter. Spike turned back around and
smiled, hooking his thumbs in his belt. "Umm--can I ask you guys a question?"
Buffy said timidly. They nodded. "What do you think--about ghosts? Do you think
they're real?" Willow waved her hand dismissively. "Nope. There's not one shred
of scientific evidence to support the existence of ghosts." "That doesn't mean
they're not real," Buffy protested. "It just means that we don't have--the right
instruments and scientific dealies to detect them." "Buffster," Xander said,
"are you trying to make me piss my pants? Why the hell would you bring up ghosts
in this house? At night, too!" He paused, a look of dread passing over his face.
"Did--did you see or hear something?" "I--uh--thought I saw something, yeah..."
"It's just your imagination," Willow said coolly. "A place like this is bound to
make you jumpy." "What did you see?" Xander asked nervously. "Umm--a few times I
thought I saw someone in one of the windows upstairs..." "Oh shit..." Xander
turned white and darted his eyes around the room. "Do you think this place is
haunted?" A scratching sound came from around the fireplace. Xander gulped,
turning his head slowly to look at the fireplace. "That's probably just some
rats," Willow said. "Rats!? You ain't helpin', Wills!" Xander shivered. "Now we
have ghosts AND rats! Perfect! They can work as a tag-team, the ghosts can scare
us to death while the rats munch on our tender flesh!" "We'll get an
exterminator, don't worry." Willow patted his hand. "Shit...what if this place
really is packed with spooks?" Xander said. Spike sighed and shook his head. The
poor kid wouldn't last a week here. "So, this thing you saw," Willow asked
Buffy, "what did it look like?" "Well...I didn't get a very good look. It was
just kind of--a shape." Another spirit (this one was a small, blonde woman in a
flowing, diaphanous white dress) floated into the room. Spike looked
despondently at his fellow ghost and his eyes became wet with unshed tears. The
lady ghost went to the fireplace then walked around the table past Xander.
Xander rubbed his arms vigorously. "It's cold. You guys feel that?" Willow
shrugged. "So it's a little drafty." "No, this is like--you know how people say
it's colder when ghosts are around? The temperature drops an' shit..." "Buffy,
you scared the crap out of Xander with all that ghost-talk," Willow said
disapprovingly. "Yeah, thanks, Buff. Why don't you take one of the flashlights
and hold it under your chin so you can tell us some more spooky tales." Xander
looked around anxiously. The female spirit continued her circuit of the room and
disappeared into the wall leading into the kitchen. Spike followed after her,
passing through the wall. "Sorry," Buffy said looking at the point where the
woman and Spike had vanished. Buffy wondered who the woman was. Chapter 5:
Perchance to Dream Buffy laid awake most of the night waiting for Spike to come.
But he never did. She wanted to go into town and research the house, but there
was just too much to do around here to spare a minute right now. In the morning,
Willow had to wake her up after only after a few hours of sleep. The three
friends worked most of the afternoon in the kitchen: Scrubbing and cleaning the
floors, cabinets and surfaces to get it ready for the new appliances being
delivered in a few days. "Don't you wish we could have one of those neat
montages like they have on TV and the movies?" Xander asked, scrubbing the floor
by the sink. "Montages?" Buffy asked. "Yeah, like when someone has a lot of
studying or a lot work to do, they play a peppy, zippy song, something like oh
let's say, 'Safety Dance'." Buffy and Willow giggled. "The people are shown at
different stages of progress, until they're all done!" "You're nutty, Xander,"
Willow said with a smile. "I don't get you." "Nobody gets me, baby. I'm like the
wind," Xander said, doing an old-Elvis type kung fu move. They giggled and
continued to clean. "Buff, when are the electricians coming?" Willow asked. "A
team of them are coming soon in a few days, a week tops. They're going to be
checking all the wiring and putting in a new fuse box... Which reminds me, we're
going to have to go downstairs to make sure the electricians have a clear path
to the fuse box." Buffy said. "Downstairs? As in the basement?" Xander gulped
and said in a Shaggy from 'Scooby Doo'-like voice. "Yep." Xander shuddered. The
basement was where the monsters lurked in all those movies. He really regretted
watching so many creature features growing up right now. "So, uh, who's going to
be the lucky one that goes down--there?" Xander asked. "Well, you, obviously,"
Buffy said scrubbing the floor. "Me!" Xander squeaked. "Why is it obviously me?"
"Cause you're a guy. Fuse boxes and stuff like that are your territory," Willow
explained. "I know nothing about that stuff! Why do I have to do it?" "Xander,
relax," Buffy said. "You don't have to do it right now or anything, just within
the next couple days." "Oh, that makes me feel SO much better..." Xander mumbled
miserably. Something horrible was creeping around down there, be it ghosts or
rats or maybe even ghosts of rats, he was sure of it. A few days passed. The
plumbers had come out and inspected some of the pipes. Unsurprisingly, they
needed to replace the sinks, bathtubs, showerheads and much of the piping. The
plumbers were waiting for the electricity to be turned on before going into
basement so they could see what they were doing down there. Willow had been
especially giddy when they were cleaning the ballroom. Yes, they actually had a
ballroom. They didn't know what they'd possibly use it for, but they had one.
Xander worked outside a lot with the landscapers. They cleared out sections of
overgrown foliage and grass and cut down a few trees. The lawns were looking
more clean and less crowded everyday. The large pond was being un-mucked and
restored too. Willow and Xander had both expressed their approval of stocking it
with their own ducks and frogs. In the evening, the friends went into town for
some supplies and to take turns using the shower at a cheap motel. It would be
absolute Heaven when they got to use their own showers and tubs (not to mention
the toilets!) at the house. At 11 o'clock, they said their goodnights and went
to their rooms. They were all exhausted from the last few days of work. Buffy
knew that she'd have a hard time falling asleep, despite how tired she was...
She'd hold her usual vigil waiting for Spike to come. Buffy laid on her new
mattress, tossing and turning. It had been two hours since she'd given up on him
coming. It was useless, she couldn't sleep. With a sigh, she turned on the
lantern next to her bed. The electricity was supposed to be turned on next week,
but until then they still had to make do with lanterns and candles. Spike hadn't
come for three days. Why? Didn't he like her anymore? Was something preventing
him from visiting her? Did something happen to him? She was worried. Buffy
groaned, picked up her crossword puzzle from on top of her nightstand and tried
to take her mind off of him. A short time later, Spike entered the bedroom. He
smiled when he saw her. It seemed like an eternity since he'd last seen her. He
approached the bed. Buffy froze when she felt the tingles and draftiness that
went along with Spike's presence. She sat up and looked around. "Spike? Is that
you?" Buffy asked eagerly. Spike materialized by the foot of the bed. He
smirked, looking more opaque than he did last time. The details of his face and
body were plainly visible although she could still see through him. "Spike, I--I
thought you weren't coming back..." Buffy stared at him. He was gorgeous:
Sculpted cheekbones, pouty lips, blue eyes the color of the sky, a scar cut
through his left eyebrow. Buffy felt the strange urge to lick the eyebrow scar,
as it was quite lickable-looking. He was wearing a long, leather coat over his
other clothes this time. The same coat that she'd found hanging in the closet.
Now that his facial features were fully formed, it hit Buffy like a ton of
bricks. Spike didn't just resemble him, he was the man she'd seen in her dreams.
The man that she'd silently longed for all these years. "Why did you stay away
so long?" Buffy asked dazedly. Spike lips moved as he spoke to her. She could
almost hear him. "Can--you talk louder?" she asked. He took a breath and
concentrated on projecting his voice. "I'll try." She heard him say in a low,
soft voice. "I heard you!" Buffy bounced on the bed. "I heard you that time!"
"How long have I been away?" Spike asked, excited to actually be talking to her.
"Three days." Buffy pouted. "I--I thought that something happened to you..."
"Forgive me, luv. Time doesn't have much meaning...for me." "You have an English
accent? You're from England?" "Yes. I moved to the states a few years
before...before I died." He moved and sat on the end of the bed. Buffy scooted
closer to him; her eyes never stopped roaming over his face and body. She wanted
to absorb everything about him, just in case he disappeared again. "When did
you--did it happen?" Spike thought for a moment. "July 5th, 1978. That was the
date." "1978? You've been here all that time? Alone for 25 years?" "25 years..."
Spike looked off into the distance. "Is that how long it's been? It seems a lot
longer than that...but then again, it doesn't seem possible...like it only
happened yesterday. Does that make any sense?" Buffy nodded, then said, "I'm
sorry, Spike...it must be terrible. I wish I could make things better for you."
He turned back to her and smiled. "You have, Buffy. I can't tell you how lonely
I was before you arrived. Seeing you, touching you...it's more than I could have
hoped for. You were the one that I was waiting for." "Waiting for?" "Every time
I felt complete despair, like I'd go mad with the loneliness and isolation,
there was this feeling I had. Someone or something would come along to change my
dreary existence. It was important that I hold onto my sanity until it came. But
I had to wait for it. For you." "I--dreamed about you..." Buffy said, looking
into his sparkling eyes. Spike smirked. "Did you, now?" He assumed she meant
last night. "Yes. Before I came here. Since I was a kid, I've had these dreams
on and off...I'd see your face." Buffy didn't want to mention how sexual the
dreams became when she matured. It was still a little embarrassing to admit to
anyone, even him, in spite of what he had done to her on her sleeping bag.
"You'd smile and laugh...I remember how your eyes would crinkle up when you
laughed, I loved that. I drew you over and over again, until my mom wigged out
and demanded to know who this older man was that I was obsessed with." They
chuckled. "If you want--I can show you some of the sketches...And when I was
driving by this house, I had to stop. I'd seen it in my dreams too. Just the
outside, though." "Hmmm. How odd," Spike said, considering what she'd said.
Buffy giggled. Spike looked back at her and smirked. He loved the tinkling sound
of her laughter. "What is it, luv?" "It's just funny. A ghost saying something
is odd. I mean, Hello?" They chuckled again. "You know what's even odder?" Spike
asked. Buffy shook her head. "I--dreamed about you, too. For a long time. You
looked like you do now, you never aged even as I got older..." "You--you did?"
Buffy was stunned. Spike grinned. "Yes. I never knew your name, but you would
smile at me and hold my hand...The dreams were always pleasant. You've been
special to me for so many years and I've only just met you..." "We dreamed about
each other..." Buffy said slowly. "What does it mean? Were we--meant--to meet?
Like--fate?" "I like to think so." Spike smiled. "It's a bit too much of a
coincidence, don't you think?" Buffy nodded. Her mind was awhirl. This was all
just too bizarre! Spike had dreamt of her, too?! If they were meant to be
together why did he have to be dead? God must have a really sick sense of humor.
"I see you've been cleaning," Spike said, changing the subject. He indicated the
trunk and guitar case that Buffy had removed from the closet. "Umm--yeah...I
hope you're not mad." "No. Not mad. Far from it. You can do whatever you like
with all of it...it's not like I'm ever going to use it again," Spike said with
a sad smile. "It's your home now." "I found a book marked 'Journal' in the
drawer over there." Buffy pointed to the nightstand. "I didn't read it, though.
I didn't want to invade your privacy like that." Spike smiled. "It's okay, pet.
It would be nice for someone to know who I was. I didn't have time to make any
kind of mark on the world while I was alive. You can read it. I have to warn you
though, most of it will put you to sleep. Better than warm milk." Spike knew
she'd read about her dream-self in the Journal. He'd been very detailed in his
descriptions of his dreams, most especially his sexual dreams. He wondered what
she'd think about it. Buffy giggled and breathed a sigh of relief. She really
wanted to read his journal and get a better sense of him. "Spike, who was that
woman? The one that came into the dining room the other night?" Buffy asked. He
looked down, sorrow and pain written on his face. "She was my cousin. Darla.
This was her house." "Oh," Buffy said, wishing she could put her arms around
him. "She'd want you to take good care of it for her. She loved it..." Spike
trailed off. "I--I will," Buffy promised. "I want to make it beautiful again."
She wanted to ask him more about Darla and the circumstances of their deaths,
but he was so sad already that she didn't want to make it worse. Her heart ached
for him. Spike met her eyes again. "Have you seen others like me here? Besides
Darla." "No...but I've heard some stuff, I assumed it was you. Xander heard some
things too. How many of them are there?" "I don't know...more than a few. Some
of them aren't very nice or pleasant looking." "You mean--they're all gross and
bloody?" Buffy shuddered, she couldn't stand the sight of blood. "Yeah, some of
them are. I'll try to keep them from bothering you and your friends," Spike said
comfortingly. "This house has been around since the early 1900's, it's collected
its fair share of spirits in that time--like fireflies in a bottle. But I'll do
my best to look after you." "Thanks," Buffy said, feeling warmer and wetter the
longer he looked at her. "Can I--touch you?" Spike asked timidly. Buffy had many
more questions about his life and death to ask, but she wanted him too much
right now. The days that she hadn't seen him or felt his ghostly hands on her
body were torturous. Buffy nodded and then pulled off her nightgown. "Can--I see
you too?" Buffy asked, breathing hard and lying down on her back. Spike stood up
and smirked. "I think so." He concentrated for a moment. His clothes dissolved
from his body, leaving him standing there naked. "That's a time saver..." Buffy
gawked. Spike chuckled. Buffy's eyes looked him over from head to toe. He was a
work of art, and she knew from art. She knew what her next sculpture would be.
His body could have been chiseled from marble. It was muscular and defined,
everything perfectly proportioned. She gulped when she looked at his semi-erect
cock. It was beautiful too--so big and thick. Her fingers twitched to take him
in her hand and stroke him to full hardness. Spike crawled up the bed towards
her. Buffy was struck dumb by the sheer eroticism of his look and movements. He
moved so fluidly and gracefully. He hovered above her, his eyes burning with
lust. "Can you--kiss me?" she asked breathlessly. Without a word, he lowered his
head and pressed his lips lightly on hers. They felt jolts of electricity when
their lips touched. It was a sensation neither of them had ever felt before.
They moaned and melted into the embrace. Spike wanted to deepen it even more,
but he could tell that he was at his limits already. If he tried to become more
solid, he might fade away from the strain. He noticed that he was getting
stronger and becoming more solid every time he was with her. He also was
becoming more cognizant, remembering his life and death with clarity. Maybe soon
they could do even more than this together... Spike moved his lips down her
throat, kissing the side of her neck before moving onto her breasts. Buffy
wanted to hold him but her hands kept passing through his shoulders so she
clutched at the sheets instead. "I wish I could touch you too..." Buffy
whispered. "I want to make you happy." "You do, Buffy. God--you've made me so
happy..." Spike sighed as he lightly suckled and fondled her tits. "Ahhh--I
meant I want to put my mouth--Uhhh--on you! I want to run my tongue all over
your body!" Buffy breathed. "This is what we have...just enjoy this. Don't think
about anything else. Don't want for more. Let's not be greedy."
"Ohhh--Yes--Ohhh!" Buffy watched him as he sucked and licked her hot skin.
"Mmmm--You taste so good, pet," Spike moaned, licking down her stomach to her
pussy. "Ohhh--Spike!" Buffy said with a melty sigh. Unable to sleep, Willow had
snuck back down to do a little more work on the kitchen. After she was too tired
to do anymore, she made her way back up to her room with her lantern. As she was
passing Buffy's room, she stopped. There were strange sounds coming from inside.
It sounded like Buffy was talking to someone and--moaning. Willow put her ear to
the door and listened. "Mmmm--Ohhh! How do you do that? Ahhh!" Buffy exclaimed.
Willow furrowed her brows. It sounded like someone was in there with Buffy. Was
it Xander? Willow knocked lightly on the door. The sounds stopped. "Buffy?
Everything okay?" Willow asked. "Don't come in! I'm f-fine!" Buffy stuttered.
"You sure?" "Yes! Yeah, fine! Go back to bed, Willow." Willow shrugged and went
to her bedroom. "I'm fading, sorry, luv," Spike apologized. "Wish I could stay
longer." Buffy was panting from the glorious orgasm he'd just given her.
"Don't--stay away so long...okay? I--missed you." Spike smiled. "I'll try." He
reached out and touched her face lightly then disappeared. Buffy felt so sad
when he left her. Why couldn't he stay with her? She wanted to find out more
about him. When she had the time, she wanted to go into town and do some
research on him and the house. That weasel real estate agent Warren hadn't told
them that anyone had been murdered here. Buffy would have wanted the house
regardless, but Willow and Xander might have minded. Buffy sighed in
post-orgasmic bliss and slid under the sheet. Buffy drifted off to sleep
thinking of Spike. A vivid dream played out in her head: June 2, 1978 Buffy
found herself in the foyer of the mansion. It was beautiful and fixed up just
the way she envisioned it looking in its heyday, and how she wanted it to look
when she was done with it. There were hand-painted murals on the cream-colored
walls; the draperies were lace, velvet and silk; bas-relief moldings decorated
the ceiling. It was breathtaking. She was admiring the way the hardwood floors
practically glowed when there was a knock on the front door. Buffy was wondering
if she should answer it when a blonde woman hurried past her and opened it. The
woman was the living version of the one that came into the dining room that
first night Willow and Xander were here. Spike's cousin, Darla. "William!" the
blonde woman exclaimed when she opened the door. "Hey, Darla. How's tricks?"
Spike said with a smirk. He looked just as Buffy had seen him last, except with
clothes on: Ripped jeans, t-shirt with safety pins stuck randomly through it,
heavy black combat boots. Darla threw her arms around his neck and kissed his
cheek. It had been a year since she'd seen her baby cousin, who also happened to
be her favorite relative. They were 12 years apart in age, but they always had a
special bond. "It's good to see you. I'm so glad you decided to come out and
stay with me." Spike picked up a few of his suitcases and entered the foyer. He
whistled in appreciation. "This is quite a place you have here, cousin. I can't
believe I'm going to be living in a posh place like this." "Well, get used to
the good life, William." Darla smiled. "Spike. I like to be called Spike now."
"Hmm, yes, I keep forgetting that. Uncle Rupert must be having fits," Darla
chuckled. Some members of Darla's staff went outside and began moving Spike's
big, black trunk, guitar case and other bags into the house. "Spike?" Buffy
said. "Can either of you hear me?" They ignored her. Buffy tried touching
Spike's arm, but her hand passed through like water. She pulled her hand back.
It was as if she were the ghost this time. It was disorienting. Buffy was
getting impressions from them, their emotions and thoughts. She wasn't getting
everything--just pieces here and there. "Yeah, Dad wasn't crazy about the name
thing or my appearance. Especially my appearance," Spike laughed. "When did
these changes happen?" Darla asked. "I saw you last year at Christmas and you
still had your glasses, tweed suit and curly brown hair." She tousled his now
spiky blond hair playfully. "I think you look great, by the way. Very dangerous
and sexy. The girls must eat you up with a spoon." "Hey, watch the hair." Spike
smirked and ran a hand through his blond locks. "I decided on a change shortly
after Christmas. And the girls pay me my fair share of attention now that I
don't look like a total wanker. William is dead, viva la Spike!" "I happen to
love William. He better still be in there somewhere, you rogue." Darla poked him
in the stomach. "Yeah, that git's still in here. Don't you worry. Can't get rid
of 'im." Darla was the only person who Spike really felt comfortable with. She
never judged him or put pressure on him to be better or different than he
was--she accepted him. When he was little, Darla looked after him a lot; putting
band-aids on scraped knees, reading to him, etc. And she had taken him to his
first concert in 1972. They saw Led Zeppelin in L.A. while he was there on a
visit and it was the highlight of his young life. Darla would always have a
special place in his heart, for those reasons and many more. "Come on, let's get
you settled into your bedroom." Darla took his hand and led him to the
staircase. Buffy followed behind them. The cousins had very warm feelings for
each other. They obviously had a close relationship. Nothing icky, just a strong
familial love and bond. "This is really weird...Why am I dreaming this? Did this
really happen or is my mind making up the details?" Buffy wondered aloud. Spike
and Darla entered the bedroom. "Wow, Dar!" Spike said. "This is bloody
brilliant!" Buffy stood in the doorway watching them with a smile. Darla laughed
as Spike ran around the room, checking everything out. Spike jumped on the bed
and bounced up and down on his knees like a kid. "Don't break the bed Will- I
mean, Spike." "This is really all mine? I can put up my own posters and stuff?
You don't mind?" "Yep, it's all yours," Darla said. "Just don't break all the
furniture, Mr. Punk Rocker." "For you, I'll give the breaking of the furniture a
pass." Spike bowed in deference. They chuckled. "Listen, I have to talk to the
kitchen staff, so I'll leave you to get acquainted with your room. You can take
a nap or go exploring if you'd like. If you need something, you can ask Ethan,
he's the head of the staff." Darla turned to walk out. "Darla?" Spike said.
"Hmmm?" She turned back to him. "Thanks for having me. I'm really going to enjoy
livin' here. I have a good feeling about it." Spike smiled. "Me too. We're going
to have a lot of fun." Darla grinned. Buffy woke up the next morning a bit
disoriented. The dream had seemed so real. The colors were so vivid, the smells
were so strong, the sounds were so crisp... Why did she dream it? Why was she
seeing it? Did Spike somehow send it to her? Or was the house itself doing this
to her? She'd have to ask Spike the next time she saw him, which would be that
night, she hoped. //---To be continued! Feedback is my friend! Give some
, won't you? Chapter 6: Come Together Buffy sat
on her bed twiddling her thumbs, waiting patiently (or trying to, anyway) for
Spike to appear. "Where are you?" she asked. "I need to see you." While she
waited, Buffy took the opportunity to look through Spike's journal. She still
felt funny reading someone else's private thoughts, but he told her it was
alright. Her curiosity about finding out who he was outweighed the ambivalence
about intruding. The thick, leather-bound journal covered the last several years
of his life in varying detail. William Randall Giles had been a sensitive,
studious young man, who loved to read and write poetry and short stories. The
other boys had picked on him a lot, he didn't have many friends. His mother died
when he was 10, leaving his father Rupert to raise him. Rupert had been a good
man, but a bit of a workaholic. William spent most of his time alone. He raved
about his cousin, Darla, though. She was an angel to him, always kind and
loving, more of a friend and confidant than merely a relation. She never judged
him and made sure to make him feel important and loved. It was plain from his
writings that he loved her more than anyone else. There were only a few entries
after he came to live with her in June of 1978. Apparently, he was too
distracted to keep up with it during that time. The last entry, July 1st, had
him promising himself to try and make it a point to get back to journaling. When
William was 14, he met Cecily Adams. A young woman whose father was a
high-powered attorney. There were a few love poems written to Cecily (obviously
never sent) written in the book. Buffy could only make out a word or two here
and there as the poems had been scribbled over in an almost vicious fashion.
When she read further, she understood why. Cecily had brutally rebuffed William
when he told her that he was in love with her. She didn't let the poor guy down
easily either. Cecily had told him that he was 'beneath her', that his
attentions made her sick and caused her embarrassment. On the pages that
followed, young William poured his heart out; all the depression, grief and
humiliation he felt were laid out on the pages. Buffy's heart went out to him.
She also read about the girl in his dreams, her. Buffy was taken aback by the
descriptions of herself. He really did dream about her. She read the entry from
his 16th birthday; he had a highly erotic dream about her that night. Dream Girl
had come to him at night, approaching his bed with her usual kind smile. Then
she had slowly stripped for him while he laid in bed, watching her every move,
afraid and excited at the same time. The dreams had never gone this far before.
She climbed into bed with him and proceeded to make him a man (in his dreams
anyway). He'd never had sex before, but his descriptions of the feelings and
what he experienced seemed dead-on. Buffy felt a strange sense of pride that she
(kind of) had been his first, just as her Dream Man (Spike) had been hers. Early
1978 was when William made himself over into Spike. He was tired of always being
the butt of jokes and letting people get over on him. He changed his image and
let his inner-bad boy out. Spike attended youth dance clubs and started getting
into punk rock. He was still too thoughtful and sensitive to truly live the
lifestyle, but he had fun hanging out with people worlds apart from his usual
crowd. That day Buffy also opened up the trunk. There wasn't much inside: More
clothes, some things that he'd kept belonging to his mother, some of the poems
and stories that he'd written (Buffy wanted to read those), some photos of
family and friends (photos of a young, smiling, dark-haired Spike with a man who
must have been his father), etc. There was also a large stack of Playboys,
including a copy of the very first issue with Marilyn Monroe. It was encased in
plastic to preserve it. Buffy shook her head and smiled. He was a Marilyn fan,
eh? If Spike didn't mind, maybe Xander would like to keep the magazines. A half
hour passed. Buffy was just about to give up for the night, when she felt the
tingling sensation. Her skin prickled pleasantly, a shiver of arousal shook her
body. "Spike?" Spike formed near the bed. He looked even more opaque than
before. Buffy had to look closely to see through him. "Hello, Buffy," he greeted
her with a smile. "Spike, I'm so happy that you're here! I was about to give up
on you again." Buffy patted the bed next to her. Spike moved and sat down near
her. They looked into each other's eyes for a moment. "I read your journal. I'm
sorry you had such a hard life." Spike smirked. "It's okay. That's all over and
done with now. It's not like I was abused or had alcoholic parents or anything.
I was just a giant git." "I thought you sounded very cute, I would have talked
to you. And I went through the trunk a little too..." Spike raised an eyebrow,
waiting for her to continue. She giggled, "I found your dirty magazines." "Hey,
they're not dirty," Spike protested with a smile. "A woman's body is a work of
art." "I agree. I'm not coming down on you or anything for having them. I'd be
worried if you didn't have some kind of porn. Would you mind if I gave them to
Xander, even the Marilyn issue?" "Mmm, Marilyn," Spike sighed dreamily, then
shook it off. "Um--no. You can give them to Xander if you'd like. I don't mind."
"I...read about me--I mean, the girl in your dreams," she blushed. "You were
right the first time, luv. It was you." They glanced at each other like shy
teenagers. Buffy wanted to talk more about the wet dreams, but there was the
other dream that needed discussing. "I have to talk to you about something
else," Buffy said. "Alright". "Last night--after you left--I had a dream." "Was
it a bad dream?" "No...it wasn't bad. It was just strange." "What happened?"
Spike couldn't resist touching her knee. Buffy's skin was set ablaze by his cold
touch. She burned for him. She took a breath to steady herself and push back her
need for his body. It was important that she tell him the details of the dream
before they could--relax. "I dreamed I was in the past. I saw the house when it
was all fixed up. I saw your cousin and you. You were moving in with her. And I
knew the date somehow. It was June 2, 1978." Spike's eyes widened. He looked
away from her, trying to figure out what was going on. That was the date he had
moved in. How could she know that? "Spike? Is that the way it happened?"
"Yes...you saw it happen in the dream?" he asked with concern. "Yeah, you two
were all happy and bantering. You were telling her about how you changed your
appearance since the last time you saw her, at Christmas. She was so
pretty...She seemed nice." "She was," Spike agreed and his jaw twitched. "Why
would you dream about that?" "I don't know. It was weird. I was in the dream but
I couldn't talk to you or touch you. I could only listen and follow you around."
Spike was afraid. He was afraid that that dream was only the first in a series,
culminating with that terrible night. "It's okay, Spike," Buffy said, seeing his
nervousness. "I'm not freaked out by it anymore. It was probably because I
looked at your journal." He nodded. The journal was most likely the reason, but
he had a bad feeling. "Just tell me if you have another one like it, okay?"
Spike didn't want to frighten her unnecessarily by telling her his fears. It
would be horrific if Buffy had to witness the whole sordid, bloody tale. "Okay,"
she agreed. After a few moments, she looked up at him through her lashes. "Do
you think...I can touch you tonight? I want to..." "We can--give it a go. I'm
not sure if I can get--solid--enough for very long..." he said, desperately
wanting to be able to do it. "Please. I'd like to try," Buffy said. "You've made
me feel so good, I want to touch you, too." Spike stood up and faced her, then
made his clothes dissolve off his body again. "That is so cool..." Buffy smiled
as her eyes roamed over his magnificent body. "You're so beautiful." She noted
that part of him seemed to be getting pretty 'solid'. Her smile broadened. She
studied his body with an artist's eye, exploring every line, sharp curve and
plane with her eyes, committing all of it to memory. He ducked his head shyly.
The way she was looking at him, every inch of him, was making him feel
self-conscious. Buffy's tongue darted out to lick her lips as she locked gazes
with him and slipped out of her yummy sushi pajamas. "Can I touch you now?" she
asked, her hand already starting toward him. Spike nodded, then concentrated,
harder than ever, on becoming as flesh. He wouldn't be able to maintain this
state for very long. Hopefully it would be long enough. They both sighed
dreamily when Buffy's fingertips came into contact with his chest. She pushed
gently against him. He wasn't totally firm but she could definitely work with
this. As long as she didn't try to grip him too strongly. Spike closed his eyes.
This was the first time in 25 years that he'd felt the touch of another person.
The heat from her fingers spread through his whole body. Buffy kneeled on the
bed and got closer to him, moving her hands gently up and down his chest and
stomach. Her fingers skimmed the surface of his torso, touching him in
veneration. Her passion grew by leaps and bounds. "B-Buffy--I don't know how
long I can keep this up for. I might disappear without warning...I hope that
doesn't happen," Spike moaned as her hands slid over his hips and her lips
touched the center of his chest. "We'd better get started right away then..."
Buffy said, taking his cock in her hand and stroking up and down. It felt cool
to the touch, throbbing and twitching in her hand. She lifted it up and out of
the way, leaning in to kiss then lick at his scrotum. Spike gasped and tilted
his head back in pleasure. Buffy continued licking and sucking lightly on his
balls, then slid her tongue up the underside of his shaft. She kept her
movements and touches light, which was difficult considering how she wanted to
ravish him. Spike's fingers whispered through her blonde hair. She watched him
while she laved his glans with her tongue. Her pussy ached at the blissful,
enraptured expression he wore. She sucked and licked the head stronger, harder,
her hand stroked the base in a twisting motion. It was like devouring a ghostly
popsicle--a delicious ghostly popsicle. "Buffy--so good--Ahhh!" Spike's hips
rocked slightly. He looked down at her. "Do--you want to try--having sex?" he
panted. Buffy released his organ from her mouth and hands. Never taking her eyes
from his, she crawled backwards on the bed to the center, then laid on her back.
Spike crawled onto the bed to her. He hovered above her and settled his body
over hers. Her legs spread wide, opening herself to him. Spike smiled, bending
his head down to kiss her tenderly as he moved himself into position. "I love
you," Buffy said breathily as their lips brushed against each other. Spike felt
tears springing to his eyes. He never thought to hope that she would feel the
same way about him. "Buffy...I love you too--so bloody much. I always have...I
always will." They crushed (with as much pressure as they could) their mouths
together as he guided himself into her opening. He had been concerned that it
wouldn't work, but it was working just fine. He put most of his energy into
making his cock hard and solid for her. They moaned as his cool staff sunk into
her sweltering heat. They expected to hear the hiss of steam at the contrast in
temperature. The only sounds were their sighs of feeling complete for the first
time. Buffy's hands slid up his arms to his neck, touching him like she would
skim her hands along the surface of the water in the pond. She could feel him
inside of and surrounding her totally. Never before had she known such peace and
bliss. This was how she wanted to feel forever. Spike slowly began moving inside
of her, whispering his love and devotion in her ear. "Yes--Spike--Yessss!" Buffy
moaned. He kissed the side of her face as he pumped into her gently. Buffy
turned her face to recapture his lips, forgetting soft caresses for a moment,
her lips passed into his before she remembered and pulled back. Her hands went
into his hair, feeling its silky softness. "Harder--Spike!" Buffy felt the
orgasm building in her loins. "Ohhhh!" Spike squeezed his eyes shut,
concentrating on being inside of her and the unimaginable pleasure it brought.
His hips moved faster. He felt an impending orgasm around the bend. He wondered
what would happen? Would he cum? And if he did, would it be liquid or ghost cum?
Only one way to find out... They kept up the pace for several minutes until it
was too much. "Ohhh--Ohhh Spike!" Buffy groaned, rolling her hips.
"Ahhhh--GOD--OH YES!" Her body began to shake, her hands roamed over the muscles
of his back, her eyelids flapped. "Buffy!" Spike grunted, feeling himself
hurdling over the edge with her. Buffy felt him spasming inside of her pussy,
but she didn't feel the gush of warmth (or coolness, in his case) of his spunk.
Still, it was the most exquisite feeling she'd ever had. After their tremors
began to subside, Spike lifted his head and smiled down on her, warming her like
the heat of a thousand suns. Her fingers softly touched his face, tracing the
lines of his cheekbones lovingly. He placed a gentle kiss to her lips. "I love
you, Buffy," he whispered. "I love you, too." Her eyes slid closed. Buffy opened
her eyes again when she felt the slight weight of his body begin to lighten even
more. He was becoming more transparent. She felt profound sadness that he'd have
to leave her again. "Sorry, luv," Spike apologized, still on top of her. "I'd
never leave you again if I had a choice." "I know." Buffy gave him a watery
smile. "Please come back to me--as soon you can." "I will." He leaned in and
kissed her once more, then he was gone. Buffy made a sound somewhere between a
sigh and a sob as she slid her naked body under the sheet. She'd felt his cock
inside of her right up until the second he disappeared, leaving her suddenly
bereft. She was deliriously happy that they'd consummated their love. But they
had a ton of obstacles in their way to happiness, the main one being his
non-living, non-corporeal state. She touched two fingers to her lips. She could
still feel the tingles from his kiss lingering. Why did he have to be a ghost?
Why did God do this to her? She was a good person, she never hurt anyone or
kicked puppies. Why couldn't she be with the man she loved? Spike surely hadn't
deserved his fate either. No one deserved to be stabbed to death. Why couldn't
he be a flesh and blood human again? Her thoughts slowed as sleep claimed her,
and she began to dream... Buffy was in the mansion's past again. June 7th, 1978
The dining room table was set with three places. Darla and a man came in. The
man was tall with shoulder-length brown feathered hair and a high forehead. He
had a smug, self-satisfied look on his face. "So where's this cousin I've been
hearing so much about?" he asked. "He should be down soon," Darla said, sitting
down at the head of the table. "Darla, when can I move in, babe? I practically
live here anyway, why not make it official?" "Angel...I--" "Evenin'," Spike
said, strolling into the dining room. "Hello, Spike." Darla brightened. Spike
went to her and bent down, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Angel's eyes narrowed
slightly. "This that Angel bloke?" Spike asked, looking over the brunette. "Nice
hair, mate," Spike snickered. "I hope for your sake, Darla, that you don't let
'Spike' here talk to your high society friends like that," Angel said, staring
Spike down. "Boys, please." Darla wrung her hands. "Let's play nice, okay?
Angel, this is my cousin Spike. Spike this is--" "I'm her boyfriend," Angel
finished. Spike smiled tightly. "How nice." Buffy wondered why the two men took
an instant dislike to each other. Spike took his seat. "So, what's on the menu,
cuz?" "Oh, you'll love it! Tonight we're having--" "We're having duck a
l'orange," Angel finished her sentence again. "Lucy does a terrific job on that
recipe." "Would it kill you to let Darla finish her own bloody sentences, mate?"
Spike asked, looking at Angel with steely eyes. He didn't like how dominating
this man seemed to be towards Darla. Spike was getting a bad vibe from him.
"Listen, mate, I don't have--" Angel started getting red in the face. "Angel!
Spike! Please! Don't argue. I want you two to get along," Darla said anxiously.
"Please make an effort, okay?" Spike saw how distraught she was and swallowed
his dislike of her boyfriend. He sat back and nodded. "Sorry, Dar. Guess I'm
just a bit cranky from hunger." He gave her an easy smile and put his hand over
hers, squeezing it lightly. Darla smiled back, breathing a little easier.
Angel's eyes narrowed suspiciously again. He didn't like another man touching
his woman. Even if it was her cousin... Buffy woke up. She blinked, processing
the fact that she was back in reality. It was still the middle of the night. She
turned over on her other side to face the window, wishing Spike were here with
her, holding her. 'What does it mean? Why am I seeing what happened back then?
Am I supposed to do something with the information? I didn't read anything like
that last dream in the journal...That Angel guy seems like trouble...'
Exhaustion caused her eyes to drift shut again. Another dream was queued up in
her mind and ready to go... Buffy was in the kitchen this time. June 10, 1978
"Geez! I just had a dream, isn't one a night enough? Okay, now what?" Buffy
said, wondering what the next chapter in this story would entail. It was
frustrating not being able to interact with Spike or anyone else. Buffy
preferred taking action to sitting back and observing. But she had no choice
where these dreams were concerned. A tall, distinguished-looking man with salt
and pepper hair was searching through the cabinets. A young boy, who appeared to
be in his early teens, was sitting at the table engrossed in a book. Spike
entered and went to the refrigerator, getting a can of Tab. Buffy sighed at how
delicious he looked wearing his ripped jeans and a tight blue t-shirt. His hair
was all pointy. "Hey, Ethan," Spike greeted the butler and took a sip from the
can. Ethan smiled. "Good afternoon, Spike. Sleep well?" Spike nodded and ran a
hand through his messy hair. "I'm afraid you missed lunch, but I could fix you
something if you'd like," Ethan said. Spike shook his head. "Nah, I'm good,
mate." He looked at the young man, whose nose was buried in a book. "Who's the
kid?" Spike asked. "Oh, this is my nephew, Percy. He's going to be spending some
time with us here. I'm looking after him for my brother," Ethan said. "Percy?
Percy, I'm speaking to you." The boy tore his eyes away from his book and looked
at his uncle. "What is it, Uncle?" "Honestly, Percy, it's polite to respond to
someone when they're speaking to you." "Sorry, Uncle." Percy looked down,
properly chastised. "This is Spike. He's Miss Darla's cousin. He's from England
as well." Percy regarded Spike curiously. "You're Miss Darla's cousin?" "Yeah."
"Why do you look like a street person then?" Percy asked innocently. Buffy
giggled. The kid was certainly honest and forthright. "Percy! What sort of thing
is that to say? I'm sorry, Spike...Percy's social graces need improvement."
Ethan was embarrassed by his nephew's candor--even if he did agree with his
assessment. Spike laughed, "Hey, it's all right. I do look unrefined. I like
you, kid." "I'm not a kid. I'm 14. You can't be much older than that yourself,"
Percy said haughtily. Spike walked over to him. "Sorry, my mistake, mate. What
are you readin' there?" "It's a book about Jackson Pollock. Do you know his
work?" Percy asked, expecting a 'no'. Buffy walked over and looked over Percy's
shoulder at the book. She admired Pollock's work, too. "Yeah, some pretty
revolutionary stuff," Spike nodded, looking at the book. "His paintings have an
almost--physical kind of energy, don't they?" Buffy looked at Spike, surprised
but pleased. "You know about art? I didn't know that." Percy's face lit up.
"Yes! I always thought so. It reflected his own turbulent personality." Percy
was pleasantly surprised that Spike seemed to have a brain. The punk rock
exterior had fooled him into thinking that Spike was all style and no substance.
Maybe he would have someone to talk to during the summer besides his Uncle Ethan
after all. Miss Darla was too pretty to talk to. Every time he tried to talk to
her his face turned beet red. Spike smiled at the younger man. Percy reminded
Spike of himself at that age. Only instead of poetry and writing, it appeared
that Percy's passion was art. Percy was small for his age, his hair was blonde,
unruly and slightly curly, a pair of glasses were perched on his nose. Spike had
to do a double-take when he first got a good look at the kid. They could have
been brothers. "Well put," Spike patted him on the back. Spike resolved to make
friends with the tow-headed kid. He remembered how much he wanted friends or
just someone to talk to when he was younger. "I was going to go up to my room
and listen to some tunes. You wanna come?" Spike tried to live up to the bad-ass
image he wanted to project, but dammit, he was a big softie when it came right
down to it. Percy just looked at him for a moment, as if he were trying to
comprehend that someone wanted to spend time with him. Spike knew the feeling.
"Aww, that's so nice of you, Spike," Buffy said, smiling at his kindness.
"Yes...that would be...cool." Percy smiled. Buffy followed Percy and Spike to
his bedroom. They sat on the floor while Spike got out his cardboard box full of
albums and tapes. Percy dug into it enthusiastically, 'Oooh'ing and 'Aaah'ing at
Spike's collection. Spike put on his 'Blue Oyster Cult' album and leaned back
against the bed, nodding his head to the beat. "Spike?" Percy asked. "Yeah?"
"Why--are you being nice to me?" "Cause I want to. You got a problem with that?"
Spike smirked. "No. I'm just surprised. I mean, look at you. You're cool. Why
would you want to hang out with me?" Spike sighed. "I didn't always look like
this. I bet you're usually shy and keep to yourself, right?" Percy shrugged
noncommittally and started digging in the box again. "And I bet someone like
you, with your delicate bone structure, smaller frame and superior language
skills, gets picked on and knocked about a lot." "Are you going to arrive at
anything resembling a point anytime soon? Or are you just trying to make me feel
like shit?" Percy asked, the corners of his mouth twitched up into a smile.
Spike laughed boisterously, wiping tears from his eyes. Buffy laughed too.
"You've got a pair on you, Percy. Okay, my point is that I was just like you. I
know what it's like to want to be included in things, just to have someone talk
to you like you're a real person, an' not something that they scraped off their
shoe. I thought it'd be nice to get to know you, you seem like a good bloke."
Percy smiled. "Thanks." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I wonder what Uncle
Ethan would do if I bleached my hair like yours..." Spike laughed again, "Right
after he killed me, you mean?" Spike and Percy laughed. Buffy's laughs dried up
at the mention of killing. It was going to happen one of these times. She was
going to be forced to see it in living color whether she liked it or not. She
didn't think she'd be able to handle it. She was terrified. Chapter 7: In the
Dark Dark circles lined Buffy's eyes the next day. She hadn't gotten a lot of
sleep lately; Spike's nocturnal visits and now the vivid dreams she was having
had her going on practically no sleep. Still, she couldn't just sit back and
rest while her friends did all the work. She tried to put on a happy face and do
her part, after all, she was the one who insisted on taking on the house. Buffy,
Willow and Xander were working in the kitchen again. It was like one in a hotel;
it was huge. Willow was especially happy with it, since she loved to bake. She
promised them a big batch of chocolate chip cookies once everything was hooked
up and in working order. They were cleaning to the music on Xander's boom box.
This time, he was playing his 'Dance Mix'. Deee-Lite's 'Groove is in the Heart'
was playing. Xander was groovin' and singing along again: "The chills that you
spill up my back keep me filled with satisfaction when we're done satisfaction
of what's to come I couldn't ask for another No-No-No, I couldn't ask for
another I couldn't ask - " "XAN!" Willow interrupted him. "What? I'm just
gettin' my swerve on," Xander said with a boyish grin, wiggling his hips. "Try a
little more cleanin' and a little less swervin'," Willow waggled her finger at
him, a small smile touched her lips. "We need to replace those tiles...get busy,
Mister. "Xan, the electricians are coming the day after tomorrow," Buffy said
off-handedly. "Why don't you go down to the basement and make sure there's a
clear path to the box." Xander paled, his mouth went dry. "I--don't want to."
Willow sighed. "Come on, Xander! What are you afraid of?" "What am I afraid of,
she asks...Where do I begin? There's--something down there. I can--tell," Xander
said, looking fearfully at the door to the basement. "Like what?" Willow asked,
putting her hands on her narrow hips. "Bugs? Maybe some vermin?" "Those things
and much, much more, I'm sure," Xander said. "Hey, Xander," Buffy attempted to
bribe him, "I bet there's all kinds of neat things down there...bikes, perhaps
bottles of wine, old toys...You can have whatever you find." Xander seemed to
consider this for a moment. "And I'll bake a whole batch of cookies, just for
you," Willow added more incentive. His eyebrows raised and he licked his lips
lightly. A whole batch of chocolate chip goodness all to himself was too
tempting. "Alright." Buffy and Willow smiled triumphantly. "But--if something
kills me, I'm soooo going to haunt your asses," Xander said, trying to sound
funny rather than scared out of his wits. "Oh, you big baby!" Willow laughed.
"I'll come down and help just as soon as I finish taking down this cabinet."
Xander picked up the biggest flashlight they had, a big yellow B&D with an
extra wide beam. He took a shaky breath and opened the cellar door. He looked
back at Willow and Buffy, but they were already back to work, not paying
attention to him anymore. 'Shit...I have such a bad fucking feeling about
this...' Xander gulped and started down the stairs. It was spooky as hell down
there. When he reached the bottom of the stairs, Xander took one last look up at
the door and the precious light before moving further into the cavernous
basement. Xander shone his flashlight all around. There were dozens of wine
racks and kegs. He smiled, hoping that some of the stuff was still good. It
would be great if they could find an expensive bottle of champagne to celebrate
with when they finished the house. Xander sang 'Groove is in the Heart' under
his breath to take his mind off of his fear. There were piles of junk scattered
around the room. He was anxious to go through them and pluck out the treasures
that he knew would be waiting, but that would wait until the power was turned
on. There was no way he was going to spend any more time down here than he had
to right now. Xander exhaled in relief when he finally found the fuse box. There
were only a few obstacles in the way, which he swiftly moved aside. It only took
him a few minutes. "There, that wasn't so bad," Xander laughed nervously then
turned and started walking back to the stairs. His flashlight went out. He had
to bite back the shriek that wanted to explode from his mouth. He frantically
tried switching it back on, then hit it with his hand. It still wouldn't work.
"Okay--Okay! It's okay! I'll just--feel my way back," Xander said to himself,
his heart going wild in his chest. "Just some...bad batteries...that's all..."
He put his hands in front of him and went in the direction of the stairs, at
least he hoped that he was going in the right direction. He started to sing to
himself in a tight, anxious voice, stuttering the lyrics: "Your groove--I do
d-deeply dig No walls, only the br-bridge, my supperdish My succotash wish
Singin', b-baby I couldn't ask for--" Xander stopped walking and singing when he
heard what sounded like someone laughing. His eyes started from their sockets
and shot around, searching the inky darkness of the cellar. "Who--who's there?"
Xander's blood ran cold. "Who's there?" a low, gravelly, rasping voice mocked
him then giggled insanely. "Oh fuck--oh fuck--oh fuck," Xander whispered, moving
his feet again. The voice made his hair stand on end; his skin crawled like a
thousand ants had descended on him at once. A scraping, dragging sound came from
in front of him. He stopped again, afraid he'd run into whoever, or whatever it
was. "Willow! Buffy!" Xander yelled, his heart felt ready to explode from
fright. "Guys! Come down! Hurry!" "Shhhh!" the voice said, coming closer. "It's
just you and me, beautiful. Leave those bitches up there where they belong..."
"What do you want?! Who are you?!" Xander walked clumsily backwards. "Leave me
alone! Please!" "Leave me alone! Pllleeeaaasseeeee!" its croaking voice mocked.
Xander felt something icy and clammy brush against his face. He screamed and
flung himself backwards, waving his arms in front his face. "BUFFY! WILLOW!
HELP!!" Xander screamed, landing on his backside. "They can't hear you," it
chuckled gratingly, scraping the ground as it walked towards him. "No one will
ever hear you again..." Xander swung his flashlight in panic from side to side,
hoping to hurt whatever it was that was after him. He screamed when he felt the
icy fingers touch his cheek again. At that moment, his flashlight stuttered back
to life. He could see what it was; he wished that he hadn't. It was hideous, the
stuff of nightmares: Its skin was purplish-blue and flaking off of its face; its
eyes were black, evil marbles; its purple lips were pulled back in a grin,
revealing its rotten teeth; a black, sludge-like substance oozed from its mouth;
its hands reached for him. Xander's testicles shriveled up into his body as he
let out a blood-curdling scream. "N-NOOOOO!" Suddenly, the grotesque creature
was flung away from him. Xander scrambled backwards, swinging the flashlight
beam around to keep track of where it was. Another person (thing?) stepped in
front of him, facing the creature that had attacked him. "Leave him be," the
other said in a firm, accented voice. Xander looked at the newcomer. He could
almost see through him, like he was there but not all the way. The attacker
hissed. "This is MY place! You have no say here, boy!" "Wrong. My cousin owned
this place. You only worked here. I have the run of the house," the British
specter said. "You know I can hurt you. I suggest you leave all of them alone."
"Go--go into the light!" Xander yelled, remembering stuff from ghost movies. The
bleached blonde ghost looked at Xander over his shoulder. "There's no light for
him, mate. He's stuck here, or it's off to the bad place for him." The other one
growled and advanced on Xander again. Just as Xander was ready to let another
scream rip, the British ghost stepped between them and shoved the shuffling
attacker away. "I said leave him alone, pillock!" he snarled. "You couldn't be a
good spook and just rattle some chains, you had to try to hurt him. Get the fuck
out of here before I really get pissed." It looked at Xander then back at the
blonde ghost, making a decision. It wailed in rage and frustration then faded
away to nothing. Xander was breathing heavily, making him wonder if he was going
to pass out. He quickly felt the front of his jeans to make sure he hadn't wet
himself; he was happy (and surprised) to find that he was dry. The helpful ghost
walked over to Xander. "I'd offer you a hand, but..." He held up his hand,
opening and closing his fist. "I'm not substantial enough for ya to grab onto."
"You--won't hurt me?" "Nah. That's not my style, mate." "Tha-thanks...for...What
was that thing!? What are you?!" Xander asked, standing on his wobbly legs.
"It's gone now. And I think you can guess what I am. Have Buffy get a priest out
here. That one could cause you problems, as you witnessed. I didn't know he was
that strong or I would have warned her." "Y-You--know Buffy?" "Yeah...she's a
nice chit..." Spike hoped Xander couldn't see the blush that was creeping up his
face. "Hey, you should get back upstairs now. Come on, I'll lead the way." Spike
turned around and walked slowly toward the stairs, checking behind him
constantly to make sure that Xander was close. Xander followed. "Why didn't they
come help me when I was screaming my head off?" Xander asked angrily. He was
deathly pale and his body trembled all over. "The guy, the thing, that was after
you made it so they couldn't hear. Not their fault. And they couldn't have
guessed that something would jump you like that. Especially not Willow, her
bein' a skeptic an' all." "How do you know us?" "I've lived here for a long
time. I was curious about the new folks movin' in. I overheard you lot talking
now and then." Xander shivered. "I can't believe this is real...it's fucking
crazy! I almost got killed by one ghost and got saved by another...who I'm
having a conversation with. Though I gotta say, you're a lot easier on the eyes
than the other...guy," Xander fell back into joking to cover his real emotions.
Spike chuckled. "Yeah, sorry, mate. I know it must be a bit overwhelming for
you. Something like this would've sent me packing when I was alive, too.
And--here we are," Spike said, gesturing at the stairs. The door had closed at
some point. "Go on," Spike said. "Remember about the priest. Have one come out
and cleanse the basement." Xander nodded and swallowed, his blood was still
pumping furiously in his veins. He started up the stairs but stopped and turned
back to Spike. "What about you? Won't it get rid of you too?" "No. This isn't my
usual place. I just came down because I sensed that you were in trouble." Xander
gave him a weak, but grateful smile. "Where is your usual place?"
"Upstairs...the second floor mainly. I can't stay any longer...I used up a lot
of juice fighting off Rufus." Spike started to get more transparent. "Rufus?"
"Yeah, that was his name. Nasty bloke." "Th-thanks again..." Xander said then
turned, walking quickly back up to world of the living. There were many animated
and heated discussions that afternoon following Xander's emergence from the
cellar. At first Willow hadn't believed Xander's harrowing tale. But Buffy
confessed to 'knowing' Spike and having conversations with him, too. Willow
didn't know what to think; her firmly held beliefs were hard to penetrate. No
matter whether she believed him or not, Willow could see how frightened and
shaken up Xander was. He wasn't joking around this time and Xander never lied to
her. Xander was still thoroughly shaken by his experience. A warm blanket was
wrapped around him; he huddled under it. He could still feel that thing's icy
fingers touching him. Buffy was frightened that Xander had been attacked by one
of the spirits, while at the same time bursting with love and pride for Spike.
He had kept his word and saved Xander from--who knew what fate. As per Spike's
instructions, the three of them drove into town and talked to the local priest
about their problem. They had expected him to be skeptical or dismissive. But
when he heard where they lived, he merely nodded knowingly and said he'd be out
first thing in the morning to bless the cellar and tell the spirits there to
move on. That evening, they were gathered in the living room. Several lanterns
and candles lit up the room. All of them, even the still doubtful Willow, wanted
to have as much light as possible. "Can you call him?" Xander asked Buffy.
"He...can't always come. But I'll try," she replied. "Spike? Can you hear me?"
They waited in silence for a few minutes. "Spike? Maybe he's feeling shy..."
Buffy said. "You guys realize how nuts this is, don't you?" Willow asked,
fidgeting. "You don't think we know?" Xander asked, his voice tight with
tension. "A fucking ghost almost killed me today! I know exactly how nuts this
is." Spike could hear them calling and talking. He was still feeling a bit weak
from his exertions that afternoon and there was the ghostly instinct to stay
hidden from others. But he couldn't ignore Buffy. He drifted into the living
room. Buffy felt his presence before she saw his vague form. She broke out into
a large smile. "Spike! He's here!" Willow and Xander stopped arguing and looked
at Spike. Willow was speechless; her mouth opened and closed. Spike concentrated
hard to appear more clearly to them. "It's okay, Wills," Xander said taking her
hand. "He's the one that helped me, he's not dangerous." "Spike, thank you for
helping Xander," Buffy said. Spike smiled and nodded curtly, "It's s'alright..."
"What--who was that guy?" Xander asked. "He was a caretaker here, in the 50's I
think, a little before my time," Spike said, his voice soft. They had to strain
a little to hear him. "Name was Rufus. He was pretty much as evil a bloke as
they come. Did terrible things to people...I don't think you want me to go into
detail." Xander shuddered. "He won't leave the basement, so no worries for
tonight, yeah?" Spike said to Xander. "Yes worries! Big, fat, hairy worries! I
can't sleep with that thing running around!" "You--can sleep with me," Willow
said, then added, "Not in a sex way, so don't get any ideas," she tried to joke
through her fear, hugging Xander. "Why could that thing touch me?" Xander shook
off the tremors that wanted to shake his body at the remembrance. "You couldn't
touch me, so why was it able to?" "I am a ghost, but I'm not an expert," Spike
explained. "I don't know the why's or what for's. All I know is that for some
reason, we're getting stronger. Not just me, the others are too. Maybe it has
something to do with all of you moving in, maybe your energy is feeding us. Now,
most of the others, you don't have to bat an eyelash about. They can't or
wouldn't hurt you, they're harmless...but there are some like Rufus, down there,
that are quite mad and brassed off. I'll keep 'em off of you as best I can."
"You can hurt them?" Buffy asked. "Xander said you shoved that thing around."
"Yeah, being ghosts, we're on the same plane of existence...they don't teach
this shit in science classes...I can't kill them, obviously, but I can put a
hurtin' on them, they know that. And they don't want to fight me, I fight
dirty." Spike smirked. "But it touched me. Can you touch people too?" Xander
asked. Spike and Buffy exchanged a flirty glance then looked away bashfully.
"Uh--yeah...sometimes," Spike answered. Xander caught the glance. His eyes
widened. "Are--Is--Have you two..." he trailed off. "Holy shit...are
you--involved?" Buffy blushed furiously. The cat was out of the bag. "Buffy? Are
you and--Spike having a--" Willow struggled for an appropriate word. "Don't wig
out..." Buffy said. "We--We're...close..." "Don't wig out?!" Xander said in
disbelief. "You tell us you and a ghost are--I don't even know what to call
it--and you don't think we should wig?" "I know it's weird," Buffy protested.
"But he's also the one who saved you today. He's a wonderful man...just a
little--life-challenged." Something clicked in Willow's mind and her eyes got
bigger. "Oh my God! That night I thought I heard you--with someone...it was him?
You said 'Spike'...I didn't know what that meant at the time..." "I'm so
embarrassed." Buffy put her face in her hands. "They're right to think it's
strange, pet." Spike went over to her, wishing he had enough energy to touch
her. "It is." His hand petted the air just above her head. "Spike...are you sure
the priest won't banish you, too?" Buffy asked nervously. "Not a 100%, no. But
you can't have dangerous ghosties roamin' around your house." "A-fucking-men!"
Xander said. Buffy bit her lip. She couldn't take it if something happened to
Spike. "It's necessary, luv. Don't worry about me." "I can't help it," Buffy
said looking up at him with watery eyes. "I don't want anything to happen to
you." Spike laughed lightly. "I'm already dead, Buffy. That's pretty much as bad
as it gets. I'll be fine." "Okay...but you have to...stay far away from the
priest tomorrow. And--I'll stay with you while Willow and Xander show him
around." "If that would make you feel better...okay." Spike smiled. The next
morning, the priest, Father Callahan, came out as promised. A very jumpy Willow
and Xander led him to all the spots that Spike had pointed out. The spots that
the potentially dangerous spirits resided. Meanwhile, Buffy sat on her bed with
Spike. They talked about safe topics: music, art, etc. She showed him her
sketches that she'd made of him over the years. "That's a nice one," Spike said,
pointing to a sketch. "Damn, I am a good lookin' sonuvabitch, ain't I?" Spike
smirked, trying to get a laugh out of her. She had colored the sketch in. In the
sketch, his blue eyes sparkled with mischief, a sly smirk was on his face.
"Yeah, I...always liked that one too..." Buffy said absently. Her hands were
shaking slightly. She was still terrified that he would be yanked away from her.
"Luv," Spike made his hand solid and touched her lightly, "it'll be okay." "I--I
want to believe that, but--" Buffy looked into his eyes. "I don't know what I'd
do without you...I love you." Spike smiled broadly, his eyes twinkled. "I love
you, too. God himself would have to come down here and drag me away by my hair
to make me leave you, pet." He squeezed her hand. "Even then, I'd go kickin' and
screamin'." Buffy smiled back. "Can you hold me?" "Let's see," Spike said,
feeling a surge of energy run through his body. Buffy put the sketches aside and
slowly leaned into him, putting her head on his shoulder and her hand on his
chest. Spike put his arms around her, using every bit of strength and will he
had to become more substantial. There was enough resistance for the embrace.
Buffy sighed happily. "It feels so good...being in your arms. I want to stay
here forever." "Forever's a long time, pet." Spike's eyes slid closed at the
sensation of having her pressed delicately against him. "I gave the Playboys to
Xander, he needed something to take his mind off of--what happened in the
basement. To say he was pleased would be an understatement..." Buffy said, then
giggled. "You should've seen his face when he saw the Marilyn issue--like a kid
on Christmas morning." "Nice to know they're going to someone who'll appreciate
them." "Spike?" "Hmmm?" "I had more dreams about the house, about when you lived
here. I had two of them in a row the other night." Spike swallowed. "What did
you see?" "In the first one, you and Darla were having dinner with her
boyfriend, Angel. In the second one, you were talking to Ethan and Percy in the
kitchen." Spike pulled away and looked at her, fear on his face. "You're seeing
it...You're seeing what really happened." "Spike, tell me what happened. It's
becoming pretty clear that I'm going to see it eventually. I'd rather be
prepared." Spike opened his mouth to respond, to begin to tell her what was in
store for her, but the memories were wrenched away from him. He looked confused.
"What is it?" Buffy asked. "I...can't remember...I knew it a minute ago. But
it's gone now..." He got up and paced back and forth. "Are you sure you just
don't want to tell me?" "Pet, I don't want to have to tell you, that's true. But
you do have the right to know...I honestly can't recall..." He ran his hands
through his hair. "It's okay," Buffy soothed. "I'll go into town to the library
after Father Callahan is finished. I want to read the newspaper accounts of what
happened. You can tell me when you remember." She knew that he might not
remember before she had the dream. The last date had been awfully close to the
day of the murders. Tonight was probably going to be the night. "Come here,"
Buffy extended her hand to him. Spike walked back to her and took her hand,
kissing it gently. For the next two hours, Buffy and Spike stayed close, talking
about anything and everything. There was still a prevailing fear that Spike
would be banished along with the other spirits. They were relieved when Xander
came up and told them that the priest was done cleansing the 'hot spots'.
Assuring her that he was just leaving to rest and regain some energy, Spike
disappeared. Buffy felt the same crushing loneliness she always felt when he
left her. //---To be continued! Feedback is my friend! Give some
, won't you? Chapter 8: Dream a Little Dream
Buffy sat in the town library looking through old newspapers for anything about
the house. The librarian named Jenny, an attractive, dark-haired woman in her
50's, approached her table with a few newspapers. "Here," she said putting the
stack down next to Buffy, "I was finally able to find the other ones you wanted.
The ones right after the murders." Buffy looked up and smiled. "Thank you. I
really appreciate it." "No problem." The librarian looked like she wanted to say
something else then though better of it. "Is...there something else?" Buffy
asked. "I was surprised when I heard that someone finally bought the old Lawson
place. How's that--working out for you?" "It's been...interesting," Buffy said
carefully. Jenny sat down across from Buffy and leaned in to speak to her
quietly. "Have there been any strange things in the house? I don't like to
spread gossip, but I heard that it's haunted." "There've been some strange
things, yes," Buffy replied. "I wanted to find out about what happened there."
"Oh, there have been lots of tragic things in that house. In the 50's there was
a groundskeeper and handyman named Rufus Carter. He lured young boys into the
basement and...well...you don't want to know more about that. It was a huge
scandal at the time. An angry mob put an end to his life." Buffy shuddered. That
had to be the thing that assaulted Xander in the basement. "Here," Jenny said,
pulling out the July 5th, 1978 edition of the town newspaper, and sliding it
over to Buffy on the tabletop, "this will tell you about what happened as far as
the 'Independence Day' murders are concerned. They called it that despite the
fact that it happened after midnight on the 5th...I guess it just had more of a
ring to it." Buffy looked at the newspaper. The headline read: "GRISLY MURDERS
SHOCK TOWN" Buffy looked back at her. "Did you live here when it happened?"
Jenny nodded. "It was terrible. Mrs. Lawson was such a lovely woman, so kind and
pretty. She married old man Lawson and inherited everything from him when he
passed away. Darla was her name, isn't that pretty? She and three other people
were all killed in the house that night." "They never caught who did it?" Buffy
asked. "No. They never formally charged anyone, believe it or not." Jenny
whispered conspiratorially, looking around to make sure no one else was
listening. "Very strange, a very rich and influential person was murdered and
there wasn't a thorough investigation. Not that I make a habit of spreading
rumors or gossip..." "That is strange," Buffy said, frowning. Poor Spike and the
others. They hadn't even had the satisfaction of having their killer tried in
court. "There had to be some kind of massive cover-up," Jenny whispered. "What
can you tell me about Angel O'Connor?" Buffy asked. "Oh, yes. I remember him...
He was Darla's gentleman friend. Tall, dark and handsome. He moved away a few
months after the incident. He lives in L.A. now as far as I know, running his
father's hotel business. Very rich and powerful..." "Was he investigated?" Buffy
wanted to know. "He seems to be the most likely one to have committed the
crime." "I--think he was--briefly. But he was never a prime suspect, at least as
far as the police were concerned...I wouldn't go around asking people about this
if I were you. The O'Connors still have a lot of pull here..." Jenny warned.
"You think he did it too, don't you? Why wasn't he arrested?" "It's not right,
but money makes the world go 'round, Buffy. We've seen it over and over again
the last few decades. If you have enough power, fame or money you can literally
get away with murder," Jenny explained sadly. "He did it alright...everyone
knows that, whether they say it or not." Jenny's attention went to the counter,
where another woman was waiting with a stack of books. "I have to get back to
work." She stood up. "I'll check back with you in a bit." "Thanks for your
help," Buffy said with a weak smile. She felt sick. Everyone who was around back
then thought Angel was guilty, but nothing had ever been done about it. Buffy
read the article: Four people were found dead at Lawson Manor, early on the
morning of July 5th. The cook, Lucy Juarez, found the bodies. The bodies were
identified as: The widow of Harold Lawson, Mrs. Darla Lawson, 31; her cousin
William Giles, 19; the head of the household staff, Ethan Rayne, 52; and his
nephew Percy Rayne, 14. A police insider informed us that the bodies had been
stabbed repeatedly and viciously. These are the worst acts of violence the town
has seen since its founding, according to one source. Police Chief John Kramer
assures the public that no stone will be left unturned in the investigation and
that he is supremely confident that the killer or killers will be caught soon.
Police are combing the residence and questioning the staff for evidence. Those
who attended Mrs. Lawson's 4th of July party are also being questioned. There
are no immediate suspects in the case. We will report more on these heinous
crimes as the information comes in. Buffy put down the paper, her hands
trembling. Angel did it. But his family's influence and money had made him
exempt from punishment. Who knew how many other people he'd killed in the last
25 years. And why did he kill Ethan and Percy too? What could they possibly have
done, in his eyes, to deserve death? Buffy went back to the mansion to continue
work. She informed Willow and Xander about what she'd found out at the library.
They were shaken, but mostly pissed that the real estate agent didn't see fit to
tell them about what had happened there. They could see how tired Buffy was and
insisted that she go and lie down for awhile. Buffy had put up a weak protest
but decided it wasn't such a bad idea. The last several days had really taken it
out of her. She curled up on her bed and dropped off to sleep almost
immediately. Another dream played out... Buffy was in the living room. She took
in her new surroundings and wondered what was going to happen this time. June
28, 1978 Spike and Darla sat on the plush rose-colored couch eating popcorn and
watching TV. Spike had his feet up on the coffee table (Darla gave up telling
him not to), Darla was leaning back against him. "I never watched so much TV
before you got here, cousin dear." Darla smirked. "You're turning me into a
junkie." Spike chuckled, "Nobody said you had to watch, I'm not holding a gun to
your head." The show 'Starsky & Hutch' began. "This show is bloody
brilliant, it's my favorite," Spike said chewing on a piece of popcorn. "I have
to get one of those cars..." Spike started bouncing and making
'wokitcha-wokitcha' sounds to go along with the funky theme song. Darla giggled.
"I like this show, too. You enjoy the violence and the car, while I can enjoy
the gripping stories and, of course, the hot guys. Mmmm! That Starsky has the
cutest butt! Just look at it! Makes you want to grab a handful." "Ewww!" Spike
gave her a mock-disgusted look. "Now you're gonna have me thinking about his
ass." "How about when we watched 'Charlie's Angels'? I had to endure an hour of
gratuitous bikini wearing and jiggling breasts. I think I'm entitled to a little
juicy man-butt watching." Spike screwed up his face. Darla tickled his sides,
making them both laugh. "Cut it out! I'm trying to watch the bloody show!" Spike
wriggled. "You're gonna make me spill the popcorn!" "Well, isn't this...cozy,"
Angel said from the archway. The giggling cousins stopped their horseplay and
sat up. "Angel," Darla smiled tentatively, "what are you doing here? I didn't
think you were coming over tonight." "Hmm...I decided to come see my favorite
girl anyway. Sorry to interrupt your evening," Angel said, his eyes glittering.
"Oh, you're not interrupting," Darla insisted. "Would you like to join us?"
Spike grimaced. He wanted to actually enjoy his evening, Angel's presence was
like a black cloud. There was no way Spike could relax with him around. "I'm not
in the mood to watch television. Come on, baby, let's take a walk." Angel held
his hand out to Darla. She looked at Spike's disappointed face then back to
Angel. Darla really wanted to stay and watch the show but Angel rarely took no
for an answer. She knew that if she said no, Angel might get angry. Then Spike
would get angry. Then they might fight. So, in the interest of keeping peace,
Darla took Angel's hand and stood up. Truthfully, she was quickly tiring of her
boyfriend and his demanding nature. "We'll watch together next week. Okay,
Spike?" she asked him. Spike shrugged. "'Kay." He wanted to argue. He wanted to
tell her not to let that wanker tell her what to do...but he bit his tongue.
"We're just going to take a stroll," Darla said. Angel grinned. "See you later,
Spike." Darla and Angel walked out. Spike looked after them for a moment and
shook his head. Darla could have her pick of men. Why was she settling for that
obnoxious, overbearing, Keith Partridge wannabe? He could counsel his cousin,
but her love life wasn't really his business. Spike focused his attention back
on the TV. Buffy looked at him sadly. The date of the murders was approaching
fast. Her next dream could be the one... Another dream started almost
seamlessly, disorienting her with the sudden change in surroundings... Buffy
spun around when she found herself out on the rear lawn. July 4, 1978 It was
evening. There were red, white and blue streamers, colored lights and lanterns
decorated the lawn. At least 50 people were sitting at tables chatting amongst
themselves. Everyone was in good spirits. Spike and Percy came into view. They
were wearing shorts and soccer shirts and Percy carried the ball. They were
laughing and a bit sweaty. They had been playing a game of night soccer on the
west lawn with the help of floodlights. "I kicked your ass!" Spike pushed at him
good-naturedly. "Bollocks!" Percy said, pushing back. He'd obviously picked up a
few words from hanging around Spike. "It was like you were standing still, I--"
"Hi, guys," Darla said walking up to them. "Have a good game?" She smiled
sweetly. Percy immediately turned red and looked away shyly. "Yes, Miss Darla,"
he said in small voice. Spike smirked. "Percy, could you get us something to
drink. I'm parched," he asked, giving the love-struck boy an escape. "Sure!"
Percy said, racing away. Darla chuckled, "He's adorable. Ethan said Percy
doesn't have an easy time making friends." "He's a good kid," Spike said, drying
himself off with the towel around his neck. "He's fun to hang out with, once you
bring him out of his shell." "You were quite the little turtle yourself, weren't
you?" Darla nudged him with a grin. "Yeah." Spike smiled. Ethan approached them.
"They're going to start the fireworks in a few minutes, Miss." "Good. Thanks,
Ethan," Darla said. "Everyone was getting a little restless." Ethan turned to
Spike. "Spike, I wanted to thank you again for keeping Percy company."
"Oh--that's not necessary. He's a good kid, you know?" Spike said. "Everyone
doesn't have to keep thanking me for hanging out with him. I wouldn't do it if I
didn't like him." "Well, he thinks the world of you. Every other word out of his
mouth is 'Spike thinks this' and 'Spike does that'." Ethan grinned. "He's a bit
too fond of your hair though. Please try to disabuse him of the notion that he'd
'look cool' with his hair styled like yours." Spike and Darla laughed. "I think
he's pretty cool, too. And I'll do my best talkin' him out of the hair style."
"Please do," Ethan chuckled. "I have to see to some of the guests, if there's
nothing you need?" "No, we're fine, thanks Ethan." Darla put her hand on his arm
and squeezed lightly. With a nod, Ethan went towards where the guests were
seated. Spike and Darla began to stroll further down the lawn together. Buffy
followed after them. "Angel didn't come?" Spike asked. He was happy that the
lumbering lummox wasn't here, but he had to make an effort for Darla's sake.
"No," Darla said with disappointment, then after a beat, "I'm going to end it
with him." "You are?" Spike tried to hide his glee. "I--thought you liked him?"
"I did--I still do...sometimes. He's just getting--I don't know--more
possessive, more controlling and jealous. He actually shook me by the shoulders
the other night..." Spike stopped, his face screwing up in anger. "What?! You
didn't tell me that! That bastard! I'll fucking--" "Spike, please! Don't do
anything! That's why I didn't tell you. I was afraid you'd do something rash."
"Bloody right, I'll do something rash! I'll kick that prick's ass! Who does he
think he fucking is, putting his sodding hands on you?!" Spike's hands formed
tight fists, his nails dug into his palms. "No, Spike! I just want it to be
over. Don't make things worse. Please!" Spike could see she'd be pissed if he
did what he wanted to--what the situation called for. But...he didn't want to
upset her. Once again, he swallowed his feelings and made an effort to calm
down. "Okay...okay, I'll--I won't do anything," Spike said slowly. Then he
looked at her, his eyes deadly serious, "But if he touches you again...I'll kill
him." Darla touched his face gently. "He won't touch me again. But...it's good
to know I have you. Someone who wants to protect me with no ulterior motives."
She smiled. "I love you." Spike melted. He couldn't be pissed when she looked at
him so sweetly. "Love you too, cuz." "Even though you're all sweaty, I just have
to give you a big hug," Darla laughed then put her arms around him. "I'm so
grateful that you're here, Spike." Spike put his arms around her and hugged her
tightly, closing his eyes. The thought of Angel putting his ham-hands on Darla
made him shake with rage. She was a woman and a petite woman, at that. How dare
Angel touch her in anger. "You want me to be there when you give him his walkin'
papers?" Spike asked. "No. I'd like to do it privately," Darla said worriedly.
"But...you can be nearby...if that would make you feel better." "It would." The
sound of the fireworks going off interrupted them. Still hugging loosely, they
turned their faces up to the sky and watched the colorful explosions with
childlike expressions of wonder. The party-goers 'Oooh'ed and 'Aaah'ed' at the
display. Buffy stood next to the cousins and watched too, amazed again at how
real these dreams were. She could even smell the acrid odor of the gunpowder in
the air. "You Yanks know how to throw a party, I'll give you that," Spike said,
holding Darla tighter for a moment. Unseen by the others, Angel watched them
from a distance. He gnashed his teeth, his eyes were beady and narrowed to
slits. Something snapped in his mind at seeing Darla and Spike embracing. He had
known that Spike was up to no good, he knew it... "I'll put an end to
that...I'll make them wish they hadn't fucked with me. I'll teach them a very
valuable lesson." Angel turned and walked back to the house. Planning. Buffy
woke up to the sound of knocking on her door. "Buffy?" Willow called. "Xander
brought back some hamburgers for dinner. Are you getting up?" Buffy rubbed her
eyes. "Yeah, I'll be down..." She sat up, thinking about what she'd seen in the
dreams. If only she could warn them about what was coming. But she couldn't. She
couldn't even spare herself the ordeal of watching it happen. The next dream was
going to be the big one. And there was nothing she could do to prevent it.
*************************************************************************************
Chapter 9: Don't Fear the Reaper [A/N: This chapter gets very bloody and
violent. The murders are described in graphic, gory, bloody detail. My poor,
sweet Tiana had a hard time beta-ing this one. The images are sure to disturb
you, they may be a little too intense for more sensitive readers. Be prepared.]
That night, Spike came to Buffy again. They laid on the bed together while he
petted and stroked her face and body. Buffy was tied up in knots and shaking
with anxiety. She didn't want to sleep again. If she did, she'd see it. She'd
have the murder dream. "I'm sorry, pet," Spike said with a rough voice. "If I
could spare you this...I would." "I know. It's not your fault...Someone or
something wants me to see all of it for some reason." She kissed him lightly.
"What if I'm doing it? What if unconsciously, I'm sending these dreams to
you..." "Stop it. Don't blame yourself," she soothed. They settled back into
silence. "You still don't remember everything?" Buffy asked. "No. I only
remember--the pain--and the emotions of it...not the details." Spike closed his
eyes, feeling the grief, terror and pain of that night. Despite her best
efforts, Buffy's eyes slid closed. Her breathing became steadier as she fell
asleep. Spike watched her face, wondering if he should try to keep her awake.
But she'd dream it eventually, if not tonight. Perhaps it was best to let it
happen rather than have her be a nervous wreck. Spike cursed himself when he
felt his body begin to fade. He wanted to stay with her, to be here with her
when she woke up. Before he vanished, he ran his fingertips over her cheek and
gave her a sweet kiss. "I'll be back as soon as I can, luv. Be strong," he
whispered, then was gone. Buffy was in Spike's bedroom of the past again. She
could sense that it was the same evening as the last dream. July 5, 1978
"Oh--Oh, no..." Buffy whispered, realizing that it was coming. It was the date
that the murders happened. Her blood turned to ice water in her veins. Spike was
lying on his back in bed looking at the ceiling, wearing only his jeans and a
pair of big headphones over his ears. He was listening to his stereo silently.
Buffy wanted to touch him and talk to him and warn him about what was going to
occur, but she knew she couldn't interact with him in the dreams. She'd tried.
It was 1:35 AM. "Spike, I wish I could change what's going to happen," Buffy
said. "I want to yell at you to run, to get away from here...I wish--" There
were a series of ear-piercing screams from downstairs, both male and female.
Buffy gasped and jumped. "OH GOD!" she cried. "It's starting! Spike! Oh--Please
get out of here!" Spike didn't hear anything with the headphones on. He
continued to lie there, oblivious to the ghastly crimes being committed
downstairs. He nodded his head and shook his foot slightly to the beat pounding
in his ears. When Darla told him that Angel had roughed her up, Spike had wanted
to find him and beat the shit out of him, and he still did. But out of
consideration for his cousin's wishes, he'd try and behave himself. One thing
was for sure, if the pillock tried laying his hands on her again, he'd pay.
Buffy squeezed her eyes shut and put her hands over her ears to drown out the
screams. "Make it stop! Please, God! Make it stop!" One of the screams stopped,
leaving two people yelling and pleading for their lives. Then it was down to one
voice, a female voice, Darla's. "PLEASE--NO! NOOOOO!" Darla's muffled cry came
from downstairs. After a few minutes, Spike sighed and removed the headphones,
intending on trying to get some sleep. Spike sat up abruptly, his head whipped
towards the door when the screeching assaulted his ears. "Darla!? Darla!" he
yelled, jumping off the bed and racing out the door. His heart was thudding
painfully in his chest, afraid of what it was that could be making her shriek
like that. Buffy ran after him, tears streaming down her face. Darla was
stumbling up the steps, pulling herself upwards holding onto the banister. She
was bleeding from the nose and mouth. "He's crazy, Spike!" she screamed
hysterically, her eyes were huge, her puffed and bleeding face streaked with
tears. "He--He killed Ethan and Percy! Oh God! THEY'RE DEAD!" Spike ran to her
halfway down the stairs and pulled her against him. "Darla! What happened?!"
Spike panicked, his brain locked up. His attention was attracted to a figure
standing below them on the landing. Angel stood at the bottom of the stairs with
a 12" butcher knife in his hand and a demented grin. Blood dripped thickly off
the knife onto the carpet. Buffy looked down to the foyer and gasped, putting
her hand over her mouth and looking away sharply. Spike stared at Angel in shock
as he held his weeping and bloody cousin. Spike's eyes then went to the foyer,
to the prone forms of Ethan and young Percy, his friend. Ethan was lying half in
and half out of the living room, Percy's body lay by the front door, bloody
finger marks trailed down the white door, as if he had been trying to claw his
way through it. Blood was everywhere. Their throats had been cut, their shirt
fronts were soaked with blood. "You crazy bastard..." Spike muttered in
disbelief, his vision blurred with a flood of tears, his stomach rolled at the
grisly scene. "You--You murdered them?!" "That's right, I did kill them..."
Angel said. "And guess who's next?" He grinned. Spike looked away from the
bodies and down at his bleeding, whimpering cousin. "WHY?!" Spike roared in fear
and fury. "They thought they could get away with screwing my woman behind my
back!" Angel snarled. "NO ONE makes a fool of Angel O'Connor! NO ONE!" "You're
insane! They never touched her! Percy was only 14 fucking years old! He was just
a kid! He never had a chance to--" Spike's voice broke into a sob as his face
crumbled. "You bastard--Oh God! This--can't be happening..." Darla clutched at
Spike and bawled. "I'll fucking kill you for this! I'll kill you!" Spike yelled,
his face contorted with rage. "Come and get me, boyo," Angel beckoned to him.
"On second thought, I'll come to you..." Angel started mounting the stairs, his
hand gripping the knife tighter. Darla started screaming again. Spike started
backing up the steps, watching Angel getting closer. The insane glint in his
eyes and the toothy grin on his face were off-putting to say the least. "You're
crazy..." Spike whispered. Angel barked with laughter. "Am I? Crazy like a fox
maybe. You think I can't see what's going on right under my nose, you fucking
punk!?" "What are you talking about?" Spike said in confusion, still inching his
way up the stairs. "You and Darla. I know you're fucking her, too! You've been
sticking it to her ever since you got here!" Angel bared his teeth. "What?!
She's my bloody cousin! NOTHING like that is going on!" "Likely story, mate,"
Angel sneered. "I've seen it! I've seen the way you two look at each other, I've
seen you kiss her, I've seen the touches, I've seen you hug her just a little
longer than you had to! You don't think I saw it, but I did! She's mine!"
"Angel, please! Don't do this! Please stop!" Darla pled with him. "Shut up,
whore!" Angel screamed. "Don't call her that, pillock!" "Aww, you don't like me
calling your whore a whore? Too fucking bad." "That's why you beat her?! That's
why you killed two innocent people?! Because you think we're all having sex with
her?! What kind of bloody man are you?!" "The kind that doesn't take any shit.
You're not going to be so pretty when I'm through with you, Spike. I'm going to
carve you up into little--tiny--pieces," Angel's smile broadened as he made
slashing movements in the air with the knife. Angel started walking more quickly
up towards them. Spike knew it was useless to try and talk the nutter down
anymore, he was completely around the bend. Spike started running back to his
room, pulling Darla with him. Buffy ran in the room right before Spike and Darla
got in and he slammed the door shut. Angel threw his body against the door to
force it open, but Spike and Darla leaned heavily against it. Spike turned the
lock. Darla screamed and cried, "No, Angel! Please!" "Let me in, you BITCH!" He
hurled himself into the door. "I'll slit your fucking throat!" "That's not
giving us any incentive, you bloody bastard! Go to Hell! The cops are going to
be here any minute!" Spike lied, but prayed that someone had called before the
carnage began. Poor Ethan and Percy. They hadn't done anything to anyone, they
didn't deserve the deaths they'd gotten, they didn't deserve the fate that had
been cruelly thrust upon them. Percy was only a kid...Spike fought to maintain
his composure. The pain, grief and rage he felt rose up like the bile in his
throat. He had to keep a cool head for Darla's sake, he couldn't fall apart. Not
now. Spike looked around frantically for something to use against the large,
insane man with the knife. Buffy stood near the window with her hands over her
face, crying. This was how it had happened. This was how he had died. She didn't
want to have to see this, she couldn't watch this. Buffy pinched the skin of her
arms as hard as she could to wake herself up, the skin turned white between her
shaking fingers. But it didn't work. She was still here. "Climb out the window
or something! He's going to get in!" Buffy shouted in panic. The tension and
stress of the moment made her forget that she couldn't change what happened
here, only observe. All of the sudden, the banging on the door stopped. Spike
put his ear to the door and listened to Angel's footfalls move away. "I think
he's leaving," Spike whispered, hoping that Angel got afraid of being caught and
decided to hoof it. "Don't unlock the door!" Buffy cried. "He didn't leave!"
Darla broke down in tears. "I'm so sorry, Spike. I'm so sorry you had to get
involved in this!" Spike hugged her. "It's okay. Shhh. I won't let him touch you
again, I promise. I'll kill him first." He kissed her forehead. "He killed
them...he murdered them right in front of me. It all happened so
quickly...I'm--so scared..." Darla whimpered. It had started with Angel coming
into the living room unannounced. Darla had risen from the couch only to be
smacked down again. He accused her of sleeping with every man she'd ever said
hello to and continued to beat her. Ethan was in the kitchen with Percy (still
cleaning up from the party) when her screams attracted their attention. They had
rushed in and dragged Angel away from her. Angel shook their hands off and
stalked away into the kitchen. They were helping Darla and asking if she needed
an ambulance when Angel came back out with the knife. The three victims backed
out of the room into the foyer, then Angel had attacked. Ethan was the first to
die, then Percy. Fresh tears sprang from Darla's eyes. "It's alright, Dar. Don't
cry. We'll wait here 'til we're sure he's gone, then we'll get you to the
hospital and call the police." Spike stroked her back. He couldn't help but
blame himself. If he hadn't had those earphones on, maybe he could have done
something. Maybe he could have incapacitated Angel before he had a chance to
hurt anyone. Now it was too late--far too late. "C'mon." Spike helped her away
from the door and over to the bed. Darla sat down then curled up on her side.
Spike picked up his t-shirt from the floor and gently tried to wipe away the
blood on her mouth. "Is your nose broken?" Spike asked, controlling his temper.
He wanted to tear Angel limb from limb. "I--don't know. I don't think so..."
"Try to apply pressure to stop the bleeding. It's going to be okay, Dar," Spike
said with far more confidence than he felt. He handed her the shirt as he
brushed her hair gently back from her face with his fingers. There was a
rattling sound coming from the door. Their heads whipped towards the sound. "The
key! Oh God--He has the key!" Darla cried. Spike sprinted to the door just as it
was opening. He pushed against it with his whole body to force it closed again,
gritting his teeth with the strain. But Angel's murderous rage and larger body
proved too much for him. With a triumphant yell, Angel threw the door open.
Spike was slammed hard between the door and the wall, the back of his head
bounced hard against the wall, stunning him for a few precious moments. Angel
stormed in, heading for Darla on the bed. Darla and Buffy screamed. Spike pushed
the door off of him and ran at Angel, grabbing at his arm and punching him in
the kidneys. Angel was so pumped up that he barely felt the blonde's powerful
punches, but it was enough to annoy him. Angel turned around and punched Spike
repeatedly in the face, breaking his nose and splitting his lip, so that blood
gushed down his face. Spike stumbled back, stunned momentarily. He bumped hard
into the dresser and the mirror banged off the wall. Angel went to the bed and
grabbed Darla's arm, dragging her off the bed. She screamed and twisted in his
grasp, hitting and scratching ineffectually at him. He hauled back and punched
her hard in the face with the knife curled tightly in his fist. Her head rocked
back from the force of the blow; her body sagged to the floor next to the bed.
"Bastard!" Spike bellowed, recovering from the vicious blows he'd received and
charging at him again. He grabbed Angel's arm that wielded the knife, trying to
twist it behind him. Angel shoved him away and wheeled on him. "I'm going to
kill you, boy." Angel grinned. "I'm going to gut you like a pig." Spike came
back swinging, connecting several times with Angel's face. Angel grunted and
lurched backwards into the nightstand. Spike rushed him and tried to pry the
knife out of his hand. Buffy's hands were joined together under her chin in
prayer as tears ran down her cheeks. She knew how this would end, no matter how
well Spike seemed to be doing. She couldn't look away. Angel yelled and beat
Spike back brutally. Darla was trying to stand up, using the bed to help her
stand. "Angel, please! Please STOP!" Darla begged. "I'll do whatever you want!
I'll marry you, I'll give you everything! I'll do anything!" But it was too late
for any of that. Angel and Spike struggled in the middle of the room. Angel
shook his arm free, swung it backwards in an arc then rammed it into Spike's
midsection, sending the knife plunging into his body. The blade was so long that
it broke through the skin of his back. (More screams) Spike's eyes were wide as
he clawed at Angel's shoulders. He was in shock from the incredible, burning
pain and the fact that he'd actually been run-through. Somehow, he never
believed that it could happen. He thought he'd get the knife away from Angel
before something like this could happen, just like on TV and in the movies.
Angel smiled and punched the knife brutally through him twice more, making Spike
shout in agony. He pulled back to look Spike in the eyes. "I told you I'd kill
you. Don't look so surprised," Angel laughed wickedly, then twisted the knife.
"I believe I said something about gutting you like a pig..." Spike shrieked
again, his eyes fluttered, blood sprayed out of his mouth in a fountain. His
weak fingers closed around and tugged at the neck of Angel's shirt. Angel jerked
the knife upwards inside Spike's body. The sound of his flesh ripping and his
screams filled the room. Angel shoved him away forcefully. Spike's back hit
against the dresser then he fell forward on his face. He groaned and clutched at
his torn flesh, his frantic mind told him that he had to keep his insides from
spilling out. His bright blue eyes were wide, his face was in a rictis of agony.
Buffy was weeping and sobbing freely. She kneeled down by his head, her fingers
fluttered around his face. "Oh, Spike! This is so horrible--Oh God--I don't want
to be here!" Buffy cried. "Darla..." Spike grunted, blood pouring from his
mouth. Angel was trying to drag Darla off the bed again. She was staring at
Spike in shock and horror, watching as the pool of blood spread beneath him.
"Noooo! NOOOO! Spike!" Darla struggled and scratched at Angel. "You sonuvabitch!
You bastard!" She bared her teeth and tore at him like a wild animal. "You
killed him! YOU KILLED HIM!" Angel punched her again, sending her flying back
onto the bed. Totally enraged and quite insane, he straddled her waist and
raised the knife high into the air. "I'll teach you to make a fool of me, you
BITCH!" "NO!" Spike croaked, reaching a shaking, blood-covered hand out weakly
towards the bed. The knife plunged down into Darla's chest. She screamed and
gasped. Angel's face was a grinning mask of pure evil as he plunged the blade
into her over and over again. After the first 10 stabs, Darla's struggles
stopped, but he kept stabbing anyway. Buffy buried her face in her hands and
screamed shrilly. She couldn't wake up from this nightmare. Spike shut his eyes,
helpless sobs wracked his body. He hadn't been able to save her, he hadn't been
strong or fast enough to protect her like he promised he would. Finally, Angel
stopped and stood up, wiping blood from his face. He was breathing heavily from
exertion as he looked at Darla's twitching body for a few moments. Then he
looked at where Spike lay on the floor and smiled again. "Guess I'll be taking a
little trip...don't want to go to jail. What's the matter, mate? You get to die
with your whore. Isn't that romantic? Here." Angel took Darla's limp body from
the bed and threw it down near Spike. She landed with her head turned towards
him, her face slack and lifeless. "You two can have one last cuddle to carry you
over to the afterlife. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get a little
traveling money and be on my way." Angel hurried out of the room. The rage was
wearing off and he was beginning to panic. The enormity of what he'd just done
was sinking into his brain. His only thought was of escape. Spike looked into
Darla's wide, unseeing eyes. He moved one blood-covered, shaking hand to her
face and clumsily stroked her cheek, leaving streaks of his blood there.
"I'm--sorry..." he whispered to his dead cousin. Spike's breathing became more
labored. He gasped and clutched at his stomach. "Oh God--it--hurts...." he
gurgled, aspirating blood. His eyes dimmed and his body drooped, one last,
drawn-out, rasping breath rattled out of him. Buffy was hysterical. "Spike! Oh
God! Oh God!" She rocked back and forth, hugging herself while she stared into
his dull, lifeless eyes. Even as a spirit, his eyes held more life than they did
at this moment. Buffy thought of the dead, baby bird she'd found in her backyard
when she was 8--that's how its eyes looked. The pool of blood from Darla and
Spike's bodies spread further. Buffy could feel it seeping into the fabric of
her jeans as she kneeled by Spike's inert form. If she didn't wake up soon she
was going to go insane. Buffy put her hands over her face and shrieked. "Buffy!
Buffy, wake up!" Willow shook her by the shoulders. "Spike!" Buffy shouted,
starting awake and bolting upright in bed. "Buffy, you were having a nightmare.
You were yelling. Are you okay?" Willow asked, her face worried and drawn.
Xander stood by the foot of the bed looking similarly concerned. Buffy's screams
had scared him to death. Buffy looked around her, her face wet with tears. She
touched her hand to her forehead. Her body was covered with sweat and she was
trembling badly. "Oh God--it was horrible--it was horrible!" Buffy sat up and
grabbed a pillow, hugging it against her. "So much blood--so much..." She rocked
back and forth. "Buffy, what happened?" Willow sat next to her and rubbed her
back. Xander went to her other side, not knowing what to do for her. "The
d-dream--the nightmare...I saw it...I saw Spike and Darla murdered by Angel,"
Buffy hiccupped. "Oh, Buffy...I'm sorry..." Willow tried to comfort her. "It's
over now," Xander said, patting her leg. "It's okay now." Willow handed Buffy a
tissue to blow her nose. Buffy sniffled and wiped her wet face. "It was
terrible...I knew it was going to be bad, b-but not like that. Everything was so
real. The screams--the blood..." Buffy looked around. "Where's Spike?" She
needed to see him so badly. "He wasn't here when we came in," Willow said. "I'm
sure he'd be here if he could." "I know," Buffy sobbed. "That murderer is still
free, still alive and--doing God knows what. Maybe that's why I was made to see
all of it...maybe I'm supposed to make sure he gets put behind bars where he
belongs..." The wheels were turning in her head. "Whoa, Buff," Xander said
nervously. "I don't want you getting involved with this. That guy's obviously a
cold-blooded killer." "I am involved, Xander. It was personal before, but
now...now that I've seen what happened with my own eyes. He has to be punished
for what he did," Buffy said, squaring her shoulders, feeling driven. "I don't
think Spike would want you to put yourself in danger," Xander tried to talk her
out of it. "That's why we won't tell him. He might overhear us, but unless he
finds out that way, I want it to remain between us." Buffy looked into their
faces. "Alright?" "I don't like the sound of this either, Buffy," Willow said,
"But...I'll help if I can." Xander swallowed his fear at the thought of tracking
down a ruthless killer, then nodded. "I'll--help too..." "Thanks," Buffy said
gratefully, tears still leaking from her eyes. "We can't let Angel get away with
it." She shivered when the images from the nightmare flashed before her eyes.
Willow and Xander stayed with Buffy for the rest of the night. She didn't want
to be alone. They began to formulate a plan to finally bring Angel to justice.
Chapter 10: Playing with Fire 2 months passed... Spike was horrified that Buffy
had to witness the carnage of that fateful evening in 1978, first hand. From
then on, he used every bit of strength he had to remain with her through the
night. Buffy's dreams about the past stopped, slthough she still had nightmares
where she relived the murders over and over again. She'd wake up crying and
yelling, but Spike would be there to comfort her and tell her that he was with
her. It made it easier for her though she couldn't hold him tightly the way she
wanted to. Xander still had nightmares about the thing in the basement. It was
gone now, banished by the priest, but the memory would stay with him forever. A
lot of work was accomplished on the house in those months. The living room was
livable again; the kitchen was pristine; the lawns were still being manicured,
but they looked 100% better already; the pond was fresh and stocked with fish,
ducks and a frog or two; and even though there were more important rooms to
renovate, the ballroom was fixed up, too. The hardwood floors gleamed; the
deep-red wall paper was restored; crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling. It
was like something out of a fairy tale. Xander insisted on hanging a glittering
ball in the middle of the room. When the lights were turned down low, thousands
of little patches of light filled and drifted throughout the room from the ball.
The three friends couldn't wait to invite the townspeople up for the
re-christening of the house. If they wanted to come, that is. This place had a
lot of baggage as far as the town was concerned. Still, a big, party was going
to be held when everything was finished. The best part of the last few months
had been the power and plumbing being in working order. They had a celebration
with a bottle of wine from the cellar when the power was turned on. It was a
huge relief for all of them. Spike would only leave Buffy's side in the morning,
and they'd always part with a soft kiss. Then it was on to the day's work for
her while he went wherever it was that he went to regenerate his energy. When
she was sure he wasn't around, Buffy would start discussing the Angel situation.
Willow tracked Liam 'Angel' O'Connor down on her laptop. He did indeed live in
L.A., running his father's hotel business. He was now 50-years-old and married
with no children. From all appearances, he was a normal (but very rich) man. But
they knew different. He was a heartless killer. No one could do what he'd done
and be 'normal'. They came up with a plan. And it was time to put it into
action. "Okay, we ready?" Buffy asked, her voice wavering with excitement and
fear. "Yep, let's do it," Willow said. Xander gulped and nodded. He still didn't
like this at all, but Buffy was determined. Spike and the others that were
killed did deserve to have justice. Xander just wished that it wasn't relying on
them to serve it up. Buffy dialed the number and waited. "Hello, Angel
Enterprises, this is Cordelia speaking. How may I help you?" "Yes, hello," Buffy
said, keeping her voice calm. "I'd like to speak to Mr. O'Connor, please." "Do
you have an appointment?" "Um--no...but he's going to want to talk to me." "May
I have your name?" "Can you give him a message?" Buffy asked. "Alright..." "Tell
him--tell him that I was at the mansion on July 5, 1978. I saw what happened.
Can you give him the message right now?" "I'm--afraid Mr. O'Connor is in a
meeting at the moment." "Okay, make sure you give him the message. I'll call
back at 4:00." "What's your name?" the secretary asked. Buffy hung up, and took
several deep breaths. "They wouldn't put me through to him," she explained.
"Buffy, are you sure we shouldn't just tell the cops?" Xander asked. "We're
waaaay out of our league here..." "The cops are in on the cover-up, it could be
even more dangerous if we went to them." "Nice town..." Xander said
sarcastically. "It is a nice town. The problem is the people controlling it,"
Buffy said, taking a drink of water. "You did good, Buffy," Willow reassured
her. "You sounded very authoritative." "I'm all shaky inside," Buffy said,
laughing nervously. They all looked at the clock on the mantle, 1:30. Only two
and a half hours to go before she called back. Angel kicked back at his desk,
lighting up a cigar in victory. He was going to acquire a smaller hotel chain
and expand the business even further. Life was good. He leaned over and pressed
the intercom button. "Any messages, Cordelia?" He puffed out a cloud of thick
smoke. "Yes, sir." "Bring them in, would you?" "Right away," Cordelia signed
off. She entered the office a few moments later and approached his desk. "You
had a call from Hal Page, he wants to get together for a round of golf in the
morning." Cordelia laid the messages out on the desk. "Another call from
Bernadette Palmer about the new hotel you're building in Tampa...and there was
one more." Angel looked at her expectantly. "Well?" "I wouldn't even bring it to
you, but...it was strange. A woman called. She wouldn't give me her name. She
said," Cordelia referred to the message slip in her hand, "She said, quote,
'Tell him that I was at the mansion July 5, 1978. I saw what happened.'"
Cordelia looked back at him. "Does that make any sense to you?" Angel's heart
clenched, the muscles of his jaw worked. He leaned over and snatched the paper
from her hands and looked at it. Cordelia blinked at his abruptness. "She didn't
give her name?" he asked, still looking at the paper. "No. She said that she was
going to call back at 4 o'clock. Should--I put her through?" "Yes. Put her
through. She--might be an old friend of mine." He forced a smile onto his face.
"A friend who was fond of games like this." "Oh, alright, then..." Cordelia
said. Something was bothering her about the way he looked. He was trying to
cover, but the message seemed to freak him out. Angel waited, watching the
clock. It was impossible...no one could have been there. The house was empty
that night. He didn't know what kind of game this woman was playing, but she'd
be sorry--very sorry. A minute after 4, his phone lit up. He took a calming
breath and picked up the phone. "Yes?" "Angel O'Connor?" Buffy asked. "Yes. I
don't go by that name so much anymore, though. You're the one who called
earlier?" "Yes, that was me. You got the message then?" "Indeed I did. What's
this about?" "I think you know what it's about. Don't play dumb. I know what you
did." "What is it that I'm supposed to have done?" Angel said haughtily. "You
murdered them. Spike, Darla, Ethan and Percy--you murdered them in cold blood."
"You're insane," Angel said calmly. "You don't know a thing." "Would you like me
to give you some details?" Buffy asked, her voice quavering slightly. "How
about--what you said to Spike when you were stabbing him to death?" Angel
remained silent. Buffy continued, "You said, 'I told you I'd kill you, don't
look so surprised.'" Buffy had to cover her mouth to muffle a sob. "Before you
left, you said you were going to get some traveling money and be on your way."
Angel thought he was going to vomit. No one could know that. No one that wasn't
there. "Do you believe me now?" Buffy asked. "What do you want?" he asked in a
low, dangerous tone. "I'll keep this information to myself--if--you play ball."
"Blackmail?" Angel laughed mirthlessly. "You don't have a shred of proof that
what you're saying is true." "Yes, but I could make things very difficult for
you. I could contact some news organizations, I could tell them all about it.
Who knows? Maybe one ambitious journalist will get interested in the story and
do a little investigating on their own. I could--" "Alright!" Angel yelled. He
took a breath, then continued more evenly, "Alright. I'll 'play ball' as you put
it. But not over the phone. I want to do this face-to-face." "Good. I'm glad
you're seeing things my way," Buffy said, trying to sound like a character from
a spy movie. "Do you know Phil's Diner?" Buffy had picked an eatery in downtown
L.A. for the meeting. It was well-lit and safe. "Yes," Angel said after a
moment. "I'll meet you there tomorrow night at 8 o'clock in the evening. We'll
talk terms then." Buffy hung up. Angel ended the call and pressed another button
on the phone. "Yes, Mr. O'Connor?" a male voice asked. "Were you able to trace
the call?" "Yes, sir. It's an address in Sunnydale, California." Angel
considered that. "Very good. Send it up to me right away. And," he added, his
voice grave, "you will speak of this with no one. Do you understand?" "Y-Yes,
sir. I understand." Angel ended the call and sat back again. "You're going to
get a lot more than you bargained for...No one fucks with my life." He fingered
his silver letter opener. That night the skies began clouding up, a storm was
just on the horizon. "You sure you don't want to come with, Buffster?" Xander
asked pulling on his jacket. "Nah, I want to stay here and wait for Spike."
"Okay, but I still feel funny leaving you all alone," Willow said. "I'm not
alone. Spike will show up soon." Buffy smiled. "Now go on, you knuckleheads.
You're going to miss the start of the movie." Xander gave her a kiss on the
cheek and held out his arm for Willow. "Ready, M'lady?" She giggled and looped
her arm through his. "Let's motor. See ya in a few hours, Buffy." "Have a good
time! And bring me back some Raisinets!" Buffy called after them. Buffy sat on
the couch in the living room going over her plan again and again. She would go
to meet Angel at the diner tomorrow at 8. Willow and Xander would be waiting
outside just in case she needed them. Willow had put together a listening and
recording device that Buffy could wear concealed in her clothing. Buffy would
bait Angel into confessing to the crimes. Then they'd have proof to present to
the proper authorities, ones that weren't in the O'Connors pocket. Buffy was
scared shitless, but she had to do it. Since the dreams, she became more and
more sure of the fact that she was the one meant to expose Angel. Buffy had seen
Darla, Percy and Ethan's ghosts every now and then. Sadness and despair
radiating from them. She had to do it for them too. The storm was getting louder
and closer. A particularly loud crack of thunder made her jump. "Spike?" Buffy
called out to him. "It'd be nice if you chose now to show up...the storm's
making me jumpy." The lights went out. "Oh, shit." Buffy cursed. "Great, that's
what I needed." She got up and walked slowly to the armoire where they kept a
flashlight. She clicked on the flashlight, feeling a little better already. A
small noise came from the kitchen. It sounded like a pot being knocked over. Her
heart thudded. "It's okay...some of the ghosts like to make noise
sometimes...they won't hurt you," Buffy told herself. A shape appeared in the
archway. Buffy shone the light on it, hoping that it was Spike. Angel squinted.
"Hello, there. Miss Summers, is it?" She froze in terror. "You seem to be having
a little problem with the power." Angel smiled, shielding his eyes from the
flashlight's beam. "How--How did you--" "Find you?" he chuckled. "You're pretty
new at the blackmail business, eh? I had the call traced and--voila! I had your
address in my hands." Angel walked towards her, studying her in the faint light
from the flashlight. "You can't be more than 25 years old. Were you bluffing?
You weren't here at all, were you?" Buffy backed up into the armoire. "That's a
real shame," Angel chuckled and shook his head. "You had me going--I don't know
how you know what you know, but I can't allow you to live...you understand that,
I'm sure." "Get--Get away from me!" Buffy said, her voice rising. "Afraid I
can't do that, honey. You want to play with the big boys? You pay the price."
Angel pulled a gun out of his pocket. "Guns are so much easier, just point and
shoot. I don't have to get messy this time." Terror clouded her face. "NO!" she
shouted. In the blink of an eye, she clicked off the flashlight and dove to the
side. Angel fired, missing her. Buffy landed on the floor and scrambled away.
She grunted with pain when her shin came in contact with the magazine rack.
Angel whipped towards the sound and fired again, missing her by just a fraction
of an inch. Buffy screamed, feeling the bullet whiz by her head. She took ahold
of the brass magazine rack and hefted it, then swung it in an arc towards him
with a roar. Her aim was better than his. The rack struck him in the chest. He
grunted and stumbled backwards, the gun tumbled out of his hand to the
floor--getting lost in the darkness. Buffy ran as fast as she could to the front
door. If she could make it to her car she could use her spare key hidden under
the floor mat to get away. She opened the door. Angel caught up with her,
slamming his body into her and the door, forcing it closed again. Buffy screamed
and struggled against him. "You little BITCH!" Angel spat. "Leave me alone!"
Buffy screamed and twisted in his grasp. Angel turned her around and slammed her
repeatedly against the door by her shoulders. Buffy grunted with each blow. Then
his large hands were gripping her neck, squeezing harder and harder. Buffy
gasped for air and scratched at his arms. Her knee came up swiftly to connect
with his groin. Angel cursed and loosened his hold enough for her to get free
and shove him away. In a blind panic, she ran up the stairs to her room, gulping
in oxygen. Buffy held her bruised throat, feeling her way along the wall. Angel
recovered, more angry than ever. He took the steps as quickly as his swollen
balls would allow. Buffy made it to her room and slammed the door, then locked
it. She put her back against it and slid down slightly. Tears ran from her eyes.
"SPIKE!" she croaked. "Please help me!" Angel's body began battering the door.
Buffy sobbed and braced her legs and back against the door. "I live with
people!" Buffy yelled, her throat still raw and on fire. "They'll be home soon!"
Angel paused for only a second before resuming his assault on the door. "Then
I'll just have to kill them, too!" Buffy shrieked when she heard and felt the
lock break. With all of her might, she tried keeping it closed. But, just as it
happened in the past, Angel was too strong and irate to keep out. She jumped
away from the door, running to the window. She didn't even get it open before he
was upon her. Angel tossed her away from the window, and she landed on her back
by the bed. He jumped on her, pinning her down with his larger frame. Buffy
screamed and kicked her legs frantically. Angel snarled and struck her hard
across the face. "SHUT UP BITCH!" He shook her. "How did you find out?! How do
you know what happened?!" "Get off of her!" Angel turned towards the voice. He
recognized that voice even after all these years. A bolt of lightning
illuminated the room long enough for him to see him. "You...it...can't be..."
Angel paled. Spike was standing a few feet away from them. "I said, GET AWAY
FROM HER!" Spike advanced on him. Angel released Buffy and skittered backwards
across the floor. Buffy rolled away and climbed over the bed, putting distance
between her and the other human. "Buffy, are you alright, luv?!" Spike panicked.
Buffy nodded and sobbed. "You're dead! I know you're dead!" Angel said in
disbelief. Spike leveled his gaze back on his killer. "Yeah, I'm dead. And
you're gonna be too. You shouldn't have come back here, pillock. You shouldn't
have touched her." Angel backed against the wall and slowly slid up to a
standing position. "You're--a ghost?" Angel noticed that he could see through
him slightly. "Thanks to you," Spike said getting closer. "Ghosts can't--can't
touch people." Angel tried calming himself. "You can't hurt me." Spike growled
and lunged at him, unfortunately his fists passed through Angel like a strong
breeze. Angel gasped at first then laughed crazily. "You can't hurt me!" Spike
grit his teeth and kept swinging unsuccessfully. Angel's eyes went to Buffy's
huddled form against the far wall. "But I can hurt her." He looked back at
Spike, an evil grin spreading on his face. "You get to watch while I kill
another one of your whores." Angel started for Buffy. "Buffy! RUN!" Spike
shouted. She cried out and tried to leave, but Angel was faster. His hands
wrapped back around her throat, choking her from behind. "NO!" Spike cried. He
looked around in a panic. Taking a breath and trying to put aside his wild
emotions, he concentrated on making his left hand solid. Then he picked up the
lamp from the bedside table and moved quickly over to the struggling humans. He
raised it over his head and, with a shout, smashed it down on the back of
Angel's neck. The glass lamp exploded on contact. Angel yelled and released
Buffy again. He dropped to his knees; Buffy collapsed to the floor as well.
"Buffy, get out of here! Please, luv--Hurry!" Spike shouted. Buffy crawled along
the carpet towards the door. She had very little energy left, as she had almost
passed out. Her throat was on fire, she pulled in rasping breaths. The
electricity came back on when she got to the threshold. Standing there in the
doorway were Darla, Percy and Ethan. They were looking past her at Angel, their
faces grim. She felt them pass over and through her into the room. Angel's eyes
widened further. He crawled backwards, holding the back of his head. "Hello,
lover," Darla's voice whispered. Angel shook his head. "No..." "Remember us?"
Darla asked, raising a delicate eyebrow. "What do you want!?" Angel panicked.
They laughed. "What do we want? What do you think we want?" Spike smiled and
joined the other spirits. "Darla, you can talk?" "Now I can." She turned and
smiled at her cousin then reached out her hand and stroked his face. "His
presence, our murderer's presence here, made us strong enough to do this." Spike
looked over at Buffy, who was sitting up and holding her neck, but she gave him
a small, nervous smile and a nod to let him know that she was okay. He looked
back at Darla. "You guys were giving me a complex not talkin' to me for 25
years. It's good to see all of you." Percy smiled, "Sorry Spike. I would've said
hello if I could have. I was in a kind of--bubble. Not aware of anyone else."
Ethan and Darla nodded, that had been their experience as well. As the ghosts
greeted each other, Angel moved along the wall to the window, preparing to climb
out and jump off the roof if necessary. "Stop him," Darla said coolly. "How?"
Spike asked. "You can manipulate objects, you're the strongest one of us. Make
sure he doesn't leave." Darla smiled then turned to Buffy. "You should go
downstairs. We have--business--to finalize here. Call the police if you can.
Tell them that you were attacked, minus the details about us of course, and that
your attacker is upstairs." Buffy nodded and slowly stood up. She took one last
look at Angel and the apparitions closing in around him before she closed the
door. The spirits walked toward Angel. "G-Get away from me! You can't hurt me!"
Angel yelled. "Can't we?" Spike asked, raising an eyebrow. He picked up a
hardcover book with ease. He didn't even have to concentrate. Spike hurled it at
Angel, hitting him in the forehead. Angel yelled and slapped a hand to his
forehead. Spike didn't give him time to recover. He threw more objects
(everything he could get his hands on) at the cowering man. Angel screamed with
his arms over his face, "Leave me alone!" The ghosts were only a few steps away
now. "I don't think so, mate," Spike said menacingly. "You're going to pay."
Angel wept hysterically, on the edge of madness. He looked up at them and
shivered. They now looked like they had the last time he'd seen them, bloody.
The knife wounds he'd inflicted on them were fresh and gaping, their clothes
were soaked with blood. Spike touched the tip of his index finger to Angel's
forehead. Angel screamed and batted Spike's hand away frantically. A grin lit up
Spike's ghostly countenance. "Well, looks like I can touch you. Why don't the
rest of you give it a go?" he asked the others. "It's fun!" They laughed and
began touching their cold, dead hands to Angel's face. He shrieked, twisting
away from them, "AARRGHH! NOOOO! GET AWAY!" He looked to the window, that was
the only way out. Angel ran at full speed toward the closed window, dived
through and out. "No fair," Darla pouted. The phantoms gathered around the
window and looked out. Angel's dead body was laying on the front lawn; he'd
broken his neck when he fell. "I wanted him to suffer more," she said. "That
woulda been nice," Spike agreed. "But it's done now--It's finally over." "Yes,
quite right, Spike," Ethan said. "He'll have plenty of suffering where he's
going, anyway." Percy smiled. "Red hot pokers up the jacksie for all eternity?
Couldn't happen to a nicer chap." The ghosts chuckled. Spike put his arm around
Percy. They all enjoyed the view a while longer. As soon as the door had shut,
Buffy heard a series of loud thuds and screams of pain from Angel. She went
quickly downstairs and called the police, not wanting to contemplate what was
going on in there. Chapter 11: Aftermath The police and an ambulance came
quickly to the house. The police found Angel's body on the front lawn, the gun
gripped in his hand. Spike had put it there to make sure everyone knew who the
aggressor was. Willow and Xander had arrived home, shaken and concerned. But
Buffy felt incredible relief. Her throat hurt like hell, but it was over. She'd
heard the loud scream from Angel, followed by the tinkling of glass. Buffy was
taken to the hospital to make sure there was nothing seriously wrong. There was
only bruising and swelling around her throat and her lip was cut, other than
that she was fine. No permanent damage had been done, thankfully. The following
week was filled with statements to police and reporters hungry for the story.
Buffy was told that she was obviously the victim and no charges would be brought
against her. Buffy was worried. She hadn't seen Spike since the night Angel
attacked her. Every night she waited for him to appear, only to drift off to
sleep after several hours. One night, Buffy was wandering around the ballroom,
thinking about him and how wonderful it would be to dance with him here.
Suddenly the lights went low, the glittering ball cast diamonds of light in the
room. She looked around for who had done it. A delighted smile lit her face when
she saw Spike standing a few feet away. "Hello, cutie." Spike smirked. "Spike!"
Buffy went to him. "I was so worried. Why did you--" Spike held up a finger and
pressed it lightly to her lips. He looked at her with love in his eyes. "Want to
dance?" he asked. Buffy smiled and nodded, wondering if they could. "Check this
out, just like the Fonz." Spike curled his tongue behind his teeth and snapped
his fingers. The beginning of 'Into the Mystic' by Van Morrison began playing
over the speakers, filling the room with the strains of the guitar. Buffy
giggled and put her arms up around his neck, being careful not to rest them
there, lest they pass through him again. Spike enfolded her in his arms, he was
solid enough to hold her gently. They closed their eyes as they swayed. We were
born before the wind Also younger than the sun Ere the bonnie boat was won as we
sailed into the mystic "I missed you," Buffy whispered. Spike swallowed a lump
in his throat. "I missed you too, pet. I'm so--relieved that you're okay." "I
am. I'm fine. He didn't hurt me that bad." "Let's not talk about him--or
anything right now," Spike said softly. "I just want to enjoy this." Buffy
sighed and leaned into him as much as possible. Hark, now hear the sailors cry
Smell the sea and feel the sky Let your soul and spirit fly into the mystic And
when that fog horn blows I will be coming home And when that fog horn blows I
want to hear it I don't have to fear it I want to rock your gypsy soul Just like
way back in the days of old Then magnificently we will float into the mystic "I
never want to be apart from you again," Buffy said, brushing her fingertips over
the back of his neck. Spike didn't respond, just kept dancing slowly. And when
that fog horn blows you know I will be coming home And when that fog horn
whistle blows I got to hear it I don't have to fear it I want to rock your gypsy
soul Just like way back in the days of old And together we will float into the
mystic Come on girl... As the music faded. Spike pulled back to look in her
eyes. "I love you, Buffy." "I love you, too," she replied. There was a sadness
in his eyes that she didn't like. "What's wrong?" Buffy asked. "I have to go,"
Spike said thickly. "What--What do you mean?" "The others went through
already...I'm the last one. They're calling for me." "I still don't know what
you're saying!" But part of her did. His death was avenged, everyone knew what
had happened at Lawson Manor that night. There was no more secrecy, no more
cover-ups. Justice had been served. A brilliant light illuminated the ballroom
in the form of a portal. Buffy and Spike looked into it. A female shape walked
to the edge and held out her hand. It was Darla, smiling beatifically at Spike.
"It's time, Spike. Come home," Darla said, her voice gentle and soft. "No--No,
don't go..." Buffy mumbled, her eyes filling with tears. Spike looked back at
her, his eyes wet as well. "It's not my choice. I have to go." "But..." Buffy
sobbed. The right thing to do was to let him go without a big weepy display, she
knew it. She hated it--but she knew it. Spike deserved to rest and be at peace
after so many years of wandering. "I'll always love you," Spike said, pressing a
soft kiss to her lips. "Be happy, pet. Live for both of us...as long as one of
us is living, it's okay." Spike backed away from her towards the portal. He was
surrounded by the heavenly light, looking more beautiful than he ever had. Her
vision blurred, fat tears rolled down her face. "I love you!" Buffy wept. Spike
entered the portal, reaching out to take Darla's offered hand, then kissing her
on the cheek. Spike looked to her one last time. "I love you, too," he said with
a bittersweet smile. Part of Spike was grateful that he'd finally be able to
'rest in peace,' to go on to his ultimate reward. But a bigger part wanted
nothing more than to stay with his love. The fact remained, he didn't have a
choice. The light, the peace and tranquility, drew him in like a magnet.
"I'll--" Buffy sobbed, "never forget you." "Goodbye, pet. Take care of
yourself." Darla turned and led Spike further into the tunnel/portal. Their
forms began getting smaller as they moved inwards. Buffy saw others, and she was
able to make out the forms of: Percy, Ethan, Spike's mother and father (she had
seen their pictures in his trunk) and other people she didn't know. She felt an
enormous amount of love and joy coming from them. Then as quickly as it came,
the portal disappeared, closing in on itself with a *whoosh*. Buffy sank to her
knees and lowered her head. Xander and Willow (who had been watching in
dumbstruck amazement, attracted by the brilliant light of the portal coming from
the ballroom) rushed to her side. "Buffy, are you okay?" Willow asked. "He's
gone," Buffy said in despair, her voice cracking. "I've lost him forever..."
//---To be continued! Feedback is my friend! Give some
, won't you? Chapter 12: As Time Goes By 16
years later... Willow walked down to the pond with the mail in her hand and
balancing her baby, Ben, on her hip. She smiled as she approached Buffy. "Hey,
there. How's the painting coming?" Willow asked. Buffy stopped and sighed. "It's
coming." She put her brush back on the easel and wiped her hands on her jeans.
They both had aged a bit in the last few years. But the years had been very
kind. Buffy's hair was still blonde, now hanging down to her waist. She usually
wore it in a long braid or in a tight bun at the back of her head. Willow went
the opposite way and had cut her hair short, in a pixie-ish style. "Is it time
for lunch already?" Buffy asked. "No, not yet. I just wanted to bring you your
mail since Ben and I were taking a little walk. Weren't we?" Willow poked her
son's chubby belly, making him giggle. "My little Dough Boy." Buffy smiled.
br>Willow had met a sweet guy named Oz 10 years ago. He was an eccentric, but
sweet and loyal musician who performed at the clubs in town. The two redheads
had hit it off immediately. Then, there came Tara. She was a psychologist who
had an office in town. Willow had hit it off with her too, discovering, much to
her and everyone else's surprise, that she was bisexual. Oz and Tara had both
moved in with them. They were a cute couple + 1. Two years ago, Willow had
gotten pregnant with their first child, little Ben. Buffy was very happy for her
friends, but couldn't help the twinge of jealousy she felt that she had been
denied the love of her life and her own chance for happiness. There were no
babies in store for her, or any men for that matter. After Spike--left--she
never had the desire to see anyone else. If she couldn't have him, she'd go
without. She was now 37, and it was doubtful she would ever have children of her
own. But she did enjoy playing with and helping take care of Ben, as well as
Xander and his wife Anya's little one, Jadzia. Xander and Anya had met 8 years
ago. She was a beautiful and brassy shopkeeper in town and had captured Xander's
heart almost right from the start. They dated for 4 years before Xander got the
nerve to propose. They were married on the property in a wedding bash that had
the town buzzing for years. Jadzia was born a year later. Buffy took the mail
from Willow and thumbed through it. "Well, Ben and I are gonna continue our
walk. I'll come get you when lunch is ready...I still think we should get one of
those triangles and ring it when it's mealtime," Willow said over her shoulder
as she walked away. Buffy pulled one envelope out of the stack. The return
address was a Michael Wyndham-Pryce in Bath, England. She didn't know that name
and she didn't know anyone who lived there. Curious, she opened it and unfolded
the letter. It read: Dear Buffy, I know, you must be thinking, 'Who the devil is
Michael Wyndham-Pryce?'. It's a long story and you'll very probably find it hard
to believe. So, please, do me a favor? Read this letter through completely
before making up your mind. Don't ask me how. Don't ask me why. But it's me,
pet. Spike. Or William Giles, as I was known originally. It's incredible isn't
it? I was reincarnated. I never really believed in that stuff before. Then
again, I didn't believe in ghosts until I became one either. I would have
contacted you sooner, but I've only just started remembering details over the
last few months. The moment I remembered you, I wanted to find you. I don't even
know if you still live in the old place. I didn't know where else to begin
searching for you. I pray that this letter reaches you, and finds you well. I
miss you. I still love you with every fibre of my being. I know that you might
have a husband and a houseful of kids, but I had to contact you. I'm sorry if
I'm interfering with your life. Here is my email address:
[email protected] Please let me know if you received the letter at the
very least. And I'll do everything I can to prove I am who I say I am. That's
all I can think of to say right now. Just know that I'm here and waiting in
anticipation for your reply. Love Always, Spike Buffy stared at the letter and
reread it three times before it sunk into her brain. Was it possible? Could
Spike be back among the living? Without another thought, Buffy raced back to the
house and up to her bedroom. She'd taken another bedroom after everything that
happened. She just couldn't stay in the room that she'd seen Spike and Darla
murdered in. Buffy sat at her computer and went into her mail program. She began
to type, her fingers flying over the keyboard: To: Michael Wyndham-Pryce
Address: [email protected] I received your letter today. I'm skeptical.
I'll need some proof before I'll let myself believe it's true. Let me say this,
if this is a joke, it's a very cruel and sick one. Do you know how to use
Monster.com's chat? My chat name is buffster. I'd rather communicate with you in
real time than by email. I'll be waiting online. Buffy Buffy sent the email and
sat back, releasing an unsteady breath. Despite what she'd said, she was
terribly excited that it might be true. If it was...her prayers will have been
answered. She rubbed her stomach to soothe the nausea caused my her extreme
excitement. Her heart skipped a beat when there was a beep from her computer. He
was online. With a shaky hand she opened up the chat window. spike19: Buffy?
buffster: Yes Buffy wanted to try to remain cool-headed and a little aloof.
spike19: I can't believe I'm actually talking to you again! Well, sort of...God,
I've missed you! buffster: I need proof Buffy was shaking, both dreading and
waiting with anticipation. Holding her breath, she waited for the next words to
pop up on the screen. spike19: Okay, what can I do? Ask me something buffster:
Spike had a guitar. What was the color, brand and year? Yes, she could prove if
this was a sick, twisted prank by asking him questions. Questions that no one
could possibly know, except her Spike. spike19: It was an ice-blue metallic,
1962 Fender. I'll throw in an extra fact. Your handle 'buffster' is one of the
many nicknames that Xander called you "Oh my God..." Buffy said, stunned at his
accurate responses. "No," she shook her head, "I need more. Please...God...Let
it be him...Please..." But it couldn't be him...It was impossible. It was
totally crazy. Then again...things were pretty weird back in the day too. If she
could meet, have incredible sex with, and fall in love with a ghost...Wrapping
her mind around a little reincarnation shouldn't be too hard. Buffy had become
so used to the idea of him being gone; forever unattainable to her. She'd
accepted the fact that she would remain alone until one day, she would join him
on the other side. It was rattling her to her core to think that being with him
was actually possible. Oh, if it were him... She typed another question.
buffster: What was Spike's favorite tv show? spike19: Starsky & Hutch. I
loved that car. It was a toss-up between that or Charlie's Angels. The last one
is for obvious reasons lol Buffy's breath caught in her throat. It became more
difficult to type the correct letters on the keyboard. Her fingers were
trembling badly. Every new answer from him was like an electric shock to her
long dormant heart. She kept typing questions as the truth slowly seeped in and
took hold in her brain. buffster: How did Spike tell me his name the first time
we communicated? spike19: I wrote it in the dust on the mirror in the bedroom.
Then I wrote 'William' under that "Oh--Oh God..." Buffy was having trouble
breathing. "Oh please...please..." She needed it to be him. There was one more
answer that she needed to make her truly believe and accept that this stranger
was the man that she loved beyond all reason. buffster: What song did we dance
to the night you left? Her heart raced, pounding erratically in her chest,
making her put her hand over her heart to steady it. If he knew the song...
spike19: Van Morrison's 'Into the Mystic' Buffy burst into tears. "Spike! Oh
God!" She sobbed, trying to type through blurry eyes. buffster: Is it really
you? spike19: Yes, luv. It's me. Do you believe me? buffster: You answered
everything right but I'm afraid to. If this turns out to be a trick, I don't
know if I'll be able to take it. It was true. If this was just some clever,
heartless imposter, it would take her years to undo the damage he'd caused...if
it would be possible at all. Buffy thought she might just jump off of the roof
and end the pain forever. But her heart and her head told her, it was true. It
was her Spike. spike19: It's not a trick, I swear it. It's really me. I have to
know, do you have someone special in your life? buffster: No. I've never gotten
over you spike19: Oh Buffy. I'm sorry you've been alone. But I'm happy that
you're free. I feel so selfish buffster: I need to see you. Can you come back to
the mansion? Do you even want to come back here? To see him, to touch him, to
love him like she'd wanted to for 16 long years; she was sick with the intense
longing she felt. She would throw her arms around him and never let go. spike19:
It will be difficult, but I'll try buffster: Why is it difficult? Because of the
bad memories? If he needed it, she would move out of the house. Buffy would do
anything to be with him again. spike19: No, nothing like that. I meant that my
parents will try to stop me. They've been a bloody nightmare since I've been
recovering my memories. I've had to pretend I'm 'all better' so that they
wouldn't send me to an institution Buffy furrowed her brows in confusion.
buffster: Parents? spike19: Yes. Their names are Wesley and Winifred. They're
not so bad, they try to do the right thing. They just think I'm bug-shaggin'
crazy buffster: Wait. How old are you? spike19: 16 "Holy shit...oh shit," Buffy
said, smacking her forehead then dragging her hand slowly down her face. She
felt numb. spike19: Buffy? I know it's young, but that's only chronological age.
We love each other, it doesn't matter. Actually I'm much older than you,
considering I lived for 19 years, was dead for 25, and now I've lived 16 more
years. I've racked up a lot of time on Earth buffster: I'm such an idiot, I was
so excited that it didn't even occur to me that you had to be so young. I can't
be with a child. I could be thrown in jail! spike19: I'm NOT a child! Buffy, I
love you. Please don't turn me away because of my age. I'll get older buffster:
I don't know what to do. I still love you so much. But your parents would have
me arrested in a heartbeat. You know that. Buffy cried in frustration. First, he
had to be a ghost when she met him. Then, he was taken away from her. Now, he
was alive and whole, but he was 16 frickin' years old! God must really, really
hate her. But she loved Spike. She would always love him and want him. They
could work something out--somehow. buffster: Spike? spike19: You're right, they
would make trouble for us. And you probably would feel like a deviant for having
a 16 year old boyfriend. Am I right? buffster: Yeah, I'd feel pretty strange. I
don't know what to do Spike The thoughts of an underage boyfriend made her very
uneasy. But it was Spike, returned to her by some extraordinary means. There was
no way she could stay away from him or turn him away. Buffy was so confused.
spike19: We'll bide our time then. I hate having to wait any longer. I'm going
crazy with wanting to see you. We can try waiting until I'm a legal adult in the
US. I don't know if I can do it... buffster: I want to see you too. But you're
right. And you know the problem with you getting older? I will too. I'm 37,
Spike 37 and 16, her mind boggled at the difference. She'd be a pervert. A
skanky, old broad taking up with some young, fuzzy-faced hottie. spike19: So
you'll be like one of those Hollywood movie stars with the young boy-toy hanging
on her arm ; ) Buffy laughed. He did have a strange sense of humor. Well...maybe
it wouldn't be so bad. To be with the man that she loved, she'd risk the
pointed, disapproving glances of others--She'd risk being ostracized, she'd risk
anything. She'd deal with it. buffster: Okay, so we wait...Can we at least talk
until then? spike19: Yes, absolutely! But not on the phone. My parents would ask
too many questions. There are programmes for the internet where you can talk to
someone and actually hear their voice. I'll look into that and let you know what
I find. Could you send me a picture of yourself? Buffy balked. She looked good,
but she was suddenly very self-conscious. Would he be shocked at her aged
appearance? She touched her face. Her slight laugh lines and crow's feet seemed
as deep and craggy as the Grand Fucking Canyon. buffster: You know what I look
like spike19: I haven't seen you in ages, pet. I want to see you buffster: I'm
older. I don't look like I did when I was 21 spike19: I'm sure you look
fantastic. Please, I want to see you Buffy sighed, relenting. There was only one
way to find out how he'd react to her looks. She was dying to see what he looked
like now too. buffster: Okay. I'll try to find a good one to send you. I have no
idea what you look like now. You're a different person, on the outside anyway
spike19: Actually--believe it or not--I look a lot like I did before. I don't
know how or why. I even bleached my hair again. My dad had a fit, just like my
first dad, Rupert, did lol spike19: I have to go, luv. My mum is calling me
buffster: God, this is all so bizarre! Will you contact me later? Buffy's heart
was pounding loudly in her ears again. Part of her believed that she shouldn't
let him go--If she ended the conversation, she might never hear from him
again--He might be taken from her again. She shook her head. She had to have
some kind of faith that he had been given back to her, for keeps this time. She
calmed herself, shaking off the sudden, almost overpowering fear. spike19: Yes.
Tonight around 10, my time. I have to go now, she's coming upstairs. I love you
Buffy smiled brightly, her eyes welling once more. He loved her. After all this
time, after everything they'd been through, after all the time they'd been
separated--He still loved her too. buffster: I love you too Spike Buffy and
Spike communicated on the computer and he sent her the occasional letter. She
couldn't send him one for fear that his parents would intercept it. Buffy had
been surprised by the picture he sent her. He did look almost exactly like she
remembered him, except younger. The same voice (only a bit higher pitched),
cheekbones, lips and best of all--those eyes. She could get lost forever in
those eyes. Spike had raved about the picture of herself she sent him. Saying
that she was even more beautiful than she was before, that she'd aged like a
fine wine. Buffy joked that she was more like a moldy hunk of cheese. Years
passed.... The years passed excruciatingly slowly for them. Talking to each
other was wonderful but it increased the longing to see and touch the other even
more. Buffy felt like a giant pervert for it (both because he was so young, and
that she was masturbating at her computer), but they had engaged in cybersex
several times. They both became proficient at typing one-handed. It was better
when they used the talking program, they had both hands free and could hear each
other moaning. It was coming up on Spike/Michael's 18th birthday. He was going
to come to her then. He could legally move to the states on his own and they
could finally be together. They'd fallen even more in love with each other over
the almost 2 year period of separation they'd endured, waiting for him to 'grow
up'. Buffy was sitting by the pond, her favorite spot to think and do some
sketching. Dragonflies swooped down, skimming the surface of the water;
bullfrogs croaked; crickets chirped; the Mama duck led her ducklings in a line
through the water at the far end of the pond. Near the pond's edge stood a
statue that Buffy had spent years creating: a statue in the likeness of Spike.
It bore a strong resemblance to Michelangelo's David, just like the real Spike.
He was her Adonis. The pond area was peaceful and serene, and Buffy needed that
peace. She was as nervous as she'd ever been. Spike's birthday was tomorrow.
He'd be coming to join her soon after. Her anticipation of finally getting what
she'd craved all these years was driving her crazy. 'Stop it. Just try to relax.
Don't think about it for a while...I'm going to be a mess by the time he gets
here next week.' Buffy thought. "Hello, cutie." Buffy turned towards the voice
that she knew so well. "Spike?" Buffy said, astonished. "Hope you don't mind me
coming early." Spike shot her a cocky grin. He was dressed in a pair of black
jeans, a black t-shirt with a lived-in brown leather jacket over top and combat
boots. His hair was slicked back instead of askew. Buffy slowly stood, a
delirious smile spread across her face. "No, I don't mind...but...you're not 18
yet. How did you get your parents to let you come to the States?" "Told 'em that
I'd leave anyway. By the time the coppers caught up with me, I'd be 18 and
there'd be nothing they could do about it. I wanted to spend my birthday with
you, pet." They walked toward each other, feeling both excited and afraid to
touch. They stopped within inches of each other, just gazing and drinking in the
other's appearance. As one, they quickly closed the distance and threw their
arms around each other, kissing desperately. "God--Buffy! Missed you so bloody
much!" Spike breathed, kissing her lips and cheeks. "Mmmm--missed you too!"
Buffy gasped into his mouth. They started getting a little carried away, rubbing
against each other and pulling at clothes. Somehow Buffy was able to regain her
senses and pulled back. "We--have to--stop that," Buffy panted. "There are--kids
around here." Spike looked around. "Oh, right...Willow & Xander's little
ones..." Spike breathed deeply to get some control back. Their touches became
more gentle as they just held onto each other and enjoyed the feeling of being
together. Spike brushed his lips over her cheek. "I can't believe you're really
here," Buffy said softly, her eyes closed. His lips were so soft and pillowy. "I
can't believe I'm really here either. You don't know how many times I dreamed of
this very thing." "Me too," Buffy said. Then she looked down, self-consciously.
"I'm so much older than you. I'm 39...how can a young, strapping buck like you
still want me?" Spike put two fingers under her chin and brought her face up to
his. He looked at her with eyes full of love and devotion. "You're beautiful. I
meant it when I said you were more beautiful than ever. Time has only perfected
you. But I'd be with you if you looked like Quasi-bloody-modo. I love who you
are, inside and out, eyeballs to entrails. I love everything about you. I don't
care about your age or any of that rot. I love you, Buffy Summers." Buffy felt
like a giddy teenager herself at this moment. She was mesmerized by his eyes and
the passion in them for her. She smiled coyly with tears of joy in her eyes.
"You know...you're going to have to take care of a little old lady someday."
"I'll make her the happiest little old lady on Earth, and the envy of all her
blue-haired friends at the beauty parlor. That's a promise." Spike smirked then
kissed her passionately. They laughed when he lifted her up and swung her around
in a circle. He lowered her back down, letting her body slide down his and
relishing the feeling. They kissed again. Buffy introduced Spike/Michael to
everyone. She'd already informed the others about the extraordinary situation a
long time ago, so they weren't surprised. But it was still quite a shock for
Willow and Xander to see him in the flesh. Buffy took her friends aside at one
point and asked them if she and Spike could have more privacy tonight. They
understood completely and would make sure that no one would bother the two of
them and the kids would be wearing earplugs to bed. Xander made a comment about
the sexual tension going off like an atom bomb when they finally got together.
Buffy had replied, "You have NO idea!" Willow and Xander thought it was weird on
so many levels: Buffy with an 18 year old guy; the fact that the 18 year old
knew them and talked about things that happened 18 years ago, and that he looked
exactly like he had so long ago, even though he was a different person
biologically. But weird had been the order of the day since they'd moved into
the house. They shrugged it off, just being happy that Buffy was happy. She'd
been alone and in mourning for him for so long. In his presence, she was like
the old, vibrant Buffy again. There was a sparkle in her eyes that hadn't been
there for a long time. Later that evening... Spike sat on Buffy's bed, waiting
for her to come back. He fidgeted nervously. He'd never had sex in this body
before and it had been a long time since they'd been together. The last time he
hadn't even been alive, just a ghost who could become solid for a short time.
Saving himself for Buffy was something he didn't even need to consider. After he
remembered his past life (and unlife as ghost) there was no room in his heart
for another woman. He was filled with and consumed by thoughts of her and her
alone. Buffy had been gone for a while, he was beginning to wonder if she was
coming back when he heard her opening the door. "Close your eyes," Buffy said
through the crack in the door. "What?" Spike smiled. "Close your eyes, I said! I
have a surprise!" "Okay," he smirked and put his hands over his eyes, "they're
closed." Buffy grinned and came in with a chocolate cake, courtesy of Jadzia's
Easy Bake Oven (actually her daddy, Xander, loved using it too). A lit candle
was stuck in the top. Buffy had finished it just in time. The grandfather clock
downstairs started chiming the hour, midnight. Buffy walked over to the bed and
sat down beside a smiling Spike. She'd also taken the opportunity to gussy
herself up a bit: She had fixed her hair, applied a little makeup and changed
into a black lace teddy, which was covered by her black silk bathrobe at the
moment. She didn't want to walk around the house like that. "Open your eyes!"
Buffy said, holding the cake in front of her. Spike took his hands away from his
eyes and looked at the cake. He laughed. "You think of everything, luv." "Make a
wish." Buffy smiled. Spike looked into her eyes. "I have everything I
want....but...okay, I got one." He closed his eyes and wished hard then blew out
the candle. They chuckled. "That's a neat little cake you made." Spike grinned.
"Easy Bake Oven," Buffy said scooping out a little chocolate icing on her finger
and sucking it off. Spike's eyes turned dark and stormy within a matter of
seconds. She noticed the animalistic lust in his eyes and face. She immediately
became horny as hell. Buffy smiled seductively and dipped her finger back in the
chocolate icing and held it up to his mouth. "Wanna taste?" she asked. Spike
licked her finger then sucked it lightly into his mouth. He caressed her digit
with his tongue as he gazed into her hooded eyes. They groaned. Buffy pulled her
finger slowly from his mouth. "Good?" she breathed. "Very. I'd like to have some
more..." Spike's voice was low and husky. "How's it feel to be 18?" Buffy asked,
scooping up some more icing.. "So far? It's the best birthday ever--much better
than my first 18th birthday." "I haven't even given you your present yet," Buffy
purred, smearing some icing on his bottom lip. His tongue swept along his lip,
licking up the icing. It was almost too much for Buffy to take. Her body was
quaking with excitement. She decided to get things moving along, she didn't know
how long she could last before she just jumped him. She briefly wondered if she
was celibate long enough to have become a virgin again...Do hymens grow back?
Buffy put the cake on the nightstand and stood up. She went over to the CD
player and hit play. 'I Want You (She's so Heavy) by the Beatles started
playing. She loved this song; the emotion in it was insistent and raw, and right
to the point, fitting her mood perfectly. She had taken a shine to Spike's music
over the years. Buffy sashayed back to the bed, smiling down on his upturned,
adoring face. She untied her robe and let it drop down her arms to the floor.
She stood before him in her teddy. Buffy knew that her body looked good, even
better than it had looked in her younger days. She hit the Stairmaster and took
kickboxing a few times a week. Her ass and tits were still defying gravity; her
body was still toned and tight. By the awed look on his face, he thought she
looked just fine too. I want you, I want you so bad I want you, I want you so
bad It's driving me mad, it's driving me mad "Do you want to make love, Spike?"
Buffy asked. "If you don't, we can--" "NO! I mean--I do--want to...very much."
Spike blushed a little at not being able to think straight and at the mighty
redwood that had popped up in his pants. Buffy moved to stand between his knees;
she caressed his face and ran her fingers through his hair. I want you, I want
you so bad babe I want you, I want you so bad It's driving me mad, it's driving
me mad "I have to confess...I'm really nervous," Buffy said with a smile. "Me
too," Spike said, gazing up at her. "This is your first time--in this body--and
it's my first time in...well since you--ghost-you...I hardly remember how,"
Buffy laughed lightly. Spike smiled and ran his hands up her smooth thighs and
around her back to fondle her tight butt. "Like riding a bike, yeah?" They both
drew in unsteady breaths. I want you, I want you so bad babe I want you, I want
you so bad It's driving me mad, it's driving me mad I want you, I want you so
bad I want you, I want you so bad It's driving me mad, it's driving me mad Buffy
stood back and indicated that he should stand up. When he stood she moved back
to him, pulling his t-shirt out of his jeans and lifting it over his head. His
chest was smooth and muscular. She ran her hands over his torso while she kissed
his neck. His skin was so warm and soft. She's so heavy Heavy, heavy, heavy
Buffy's hand slid to his waist, undoing his belt and unzipping his jeans. His
hands ran up and down her sides. She pushed his jeans past his ass. One of her
hands caressed his firm ass while the other drifted back around to the front and
wrapped around his stiff dick. Spike inhaled sharply; he'd been dying to feel
her touch for so long. Her hand glided up and down for a few moments before she
let go. "Lie down," Buffy said, kissing him tenderly on the lips. Spike pushed
himself backwards to lie on the bed; his chest rose and fell rapidly. Buffy
climbed on and molded her body to his, capturing his sweet lips in kiss after
kiss. She's so heavy She's so heavy, heavy, heavy I want you, I want you so bad
I want you, I want you so bad It's driving me mad, it's driving me mad I want
you, you know I want you so bad babe I want you, you know I want you so bad It's
driving me mad, it's driving me mad yeah She's so... During the instrumental
last part of the song, they made out like sex-crazed teens (which one of them
was). Their hands didn't spare any patch of skin on the other's body; they
touched and fondled the other's flesh madly. Spike smiled against Buffy's lips
as the next song started. It was 'Into the Mystic'. "I thought we should dance
to this one again." Buffy bent down and kissed him quickly, sucking on his lower
lip and nibbling at it. Spike groaned with desire. Buffy pulled away from him
and stood back up next to the bed. Taking charge was helping her to relax and
feel more confident. Buffy dragged her hands up her body, his eyes fixed on her
hands, following them, the tip of his tongue swept back and forth between his
lips. Her hands went up into her hair and released it from the bun. She shook
her head slightly, her golden tresses tumbled down over her back and shoulders.
Spike thought he might cum just from seeing that, it was so erotic. He drew in a
few deep breaths, staring at her with barely contained desire. Buffy smiled and
pulled at his jeans, tugging them down and off of his legs. "No underwear, huh?"
She lifted an eyebrow. Spike smirked. "Not as handy as the dissolving clothes
bit I used to do. But it saves time." "Mmmm--that it does..." Buffy winked at
him and crawled up the bed. She straddled his slim hips, running her hands
slowly over the hills and valleys of his body. Buffy was savoring the moment;
sitting atop him like this, his hot flesh hard and solid under her. There would
be no holding back or being careful not to pass through him this time. Spike was
breathing harder underneath her. "Buffy, please...I'm going to bloody burst
if--" Spike panted. Buffy silenced him by dropping down and covering his mouth
with hers, kissing him with blind passion. He whimpered and put his arms around
her, running them over her back. Buffy sat up and pushed the straps of her teddy
down over her shoulders. Spike's hands ran up her arms and pulled the straps
down further, exposing her breasts. Spike sat up and kissed her chest while
caressing her lower back with his hands. Buffy ran her fingers through his hair
while he devoured her tits like a starving man would a juicy steak. She pulled
back and, taking his face in her hands, crushed their lips together again. "Want
you!" Spike exclaimed into her mouth. Buffy could feel his urgency, both in his
passionate kisses and the way his cock throbbed between their bodies. She didn't
want to wait anymore either. She gently pushed off of him to stand, then quickly
removed her lingerie. "God--Buffy...you're so beautiful, pet," Spike said
breathlessly, looking at her body with glassy eyes. "This is real, isn't it? I'm
not going to wake up like I did so many bloody times?" Buffy's smile stretched
across her face as she took her place back on top of him. Her fingers rubbed
over his nipples. "You'll wake up in the morning--with me." She took his rigid
cock in her hand and admired it for a moment before raising herself up and
beginning the long, delicious descent. They breathed heavily, Spike clutched at
her thighs. Buffy fought to keep her eyes open to watch his face as she sank
down on him, her lids kept wanting to flutter closed. Finally, she was sitting
flush against his pelvis. She sat there for a few seconds, not moving. Spike was
having trouble remembering how to breathe. The sight of Buffy above him, her
long, blonde hair shining in the dim light; her face a portrait of pleasure; her
body so firm and perfect; her pussy so tight he thought his cock would strangle.
He struggled not to cum; she would be so disappointed if it was over this soon.
He mentally slapped himself, trying to get some control over his body. Buffy
gyrated her hips, almost doing him in, then began moving up and down slowly. She
hadn't had sex in a very long time and it was difficult not to go for it full
throttle. But they'd been waiting an eternity to make love, she wanted it to
last as long as they both could stand it. After only a few minutes, the need and
longing did become too much. They both wanted it, hard and fast. Gentleness and
taking their time could wait. "Ohhh--Oh Spike!" Buffy panted, rising and falling
on him with vigor. "Buffy--Pet--Ahhh!" Buffy pressed their chests together while
she continued grinding down on him. They kissed ravenously. Spike turned them
over and raised up on his hands to look at her while he pumped harder and faster
into her heat. Buffy's legs wrapped around his waist, urging him to thrust
deeper and harder. "Love you!" Spike breathed, pumping his hips furiously.
"Uhhhh! Love--you--too! OHHH!" Spike lowered himself and slid his hand between
them to finger her clit to bring her over with him. "Spike! Unnngghaa!
YESYESOHGODYES!" Buffy yelled, her inner-muscles began spasming around his cock.
Spike's eyes rolled back as he too began to cum, shooting into her forcefully.
"Ahhh--Buffffy!" Their bodies jerked and twitched, their moans and cries of
pleasure echoed in the room. Spike rolled onto his back, a huge grin on his
face, his breathing beginning to return to normal. Buffy wore a matching grin;
she turned on her side and caressed his tight, young body while placing tender
kisses to his neck and chest. "Mmmm--Spike, that was so good--so wonderful..."
"Mmm-hmmm," Spike agreed. "God--It was better t