So lovely

Spike looked down at the woman wrapped around him while she slept. She looked so beautiful in quiet repose. Even though he felt her—her warmth, the even puffs of her breath fanning across his chest, her heart steadily beating—it was all still so surreal.

He finally got the girl.

It had taken years of humiliation and hatred, endless fighting, and the trials and tribulations of earning back and possessing a soul to bring him to this very moment. And it was a hell of a ride, literally. Yet strangely, and maybe this was his inner masochist talking, he wouldn’t change a bleedin’ thing. Not for the world.

So why was he was still waiting for the proverbial other Doc to drop?

Even after all this time, even after all he’d gone through and done to prove himself, that ever-present nagging of deep-seated insecurities still remained. They still echoed in his mind, sounding as clearly as they had when they were first spoken:

I do see you. That’s the problem, William. You’re nothing to me.

There's no belonging or deserving anymore. You can take what you want, have what you want... but nothing is yours.

Ask me again why I could never love you!

It wouldn’t be you, Spike. It would never be you.

You’re beneath me.

No matter what he’d been told to counter these scathing words, no matter how hard he’d fought against all odds to be more than anyone had believed he’d ever surmount to, it was never enough. He never felt like he was enough.

And would he ever truly be, especially now?

Buffy shifting beside him broke him from his thoughts. When he looked down, he was met with the biggest pools of green staring back.

“Good morning.” Buffy pressed a kiss to his chest right above his heart.

Spike felt himself responding physically to her immediately. He welcomed the distraction. It was best not to ruin the moment any further with his pathetic insecurities.

Spike pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, taking a deep breath in and holding it, savoring her fragrance. “It’s afternoon, little after two.”

“Really? I haven’t slept in this late, like, forever. So comfy.” Buffy nuzzled closer, tightly banding her arm around his waist.

“Happy to oblige, luv. In point of fact…” Spike rolled them and settled between Buffy’s splayed thighs.

“Mm…so you’ve been up long?” Buffy giggled and shifted her hips, rubbing wantonly against the aforementioned “up”.

“You have no idea, my lil’ minx.” Spike claimed her lips, trying to steal away her breath and silence any of his own lingering uncertainties.

Spike scattered nips and open-mouth kisses along her throat, teasing the sensitive flesh there. Yet Buffy clearly had other plans as the hand clutching his head redirected him elsewhere.

Spike rumbled against her breasts, “Never been one to disappoint my lady.”

Buffy hummed and mewled her agreement as he sedulously explored and tasted, mapping out every tender slope and sensitive peak of her body.

“Mm…Spike…some…somebody’s coming.” Buffy’s stuttering had Spike grinning against her inner thigh.

“I bet somebody is, isn’t she?” Spike teasingly nibbled his way upwards, finessing the spot between her thigh and his heaven.

Buffy squirmed and closed her legs, bear-trap quick. Fortunately for Spike’s inhuman reflexes, he’d gotten his head outta there just in the nick of time. “Not me, you dork. Someone’s at the door!” Buffy harshly whispered as she lifted the sheet covering her lower half and the entirety of him, before little-bunny-foo-foo-ing Spike on the top of the head.

Spike scaled Buffy’s body. When his head and shoulders broke free from the covers, he then heard someone was really at his door. “What the buggering hell!” Spike threw off the covers, climbed out of bed and stormed toward the door.

“Spike, aren’t you forgetting something?” Buffy words prompted him to stop and turn. He was momentarily stunned by the vision before him: Buffy tangled in his sheets, face flushed, hair tousled in an ‘I’ve-just-been-being-ravished’ ‘do.

So, so lovely

Spike clenched his fists when this impromptu visitor started turning the knob. Spike held out his hand to her, pleadingly. “Be right back. Don’t. Move.” Spike spun around and resumed his mission to tear apart the blighter at his door.

“Hello?” Buffy repeated, more insistently. Slightly agitated, Spike turned back and was hit mid-chest with balled-up black denims. “Pants!”

“Ta.” Spike slid on his jeans, all the while grumbling, “It’s the middle of the bleeding day, vampire here.” and “This better be worth their life.”

Spike tore open the door, his eyes narrowing at the man standing on the other side.

“Really should knock on a bloke's door, Doyle... especially one that's got no qualms about killing trespassers.”

Doyle tried to enter but Spike stayed his ground, not letting him pass.

“Come on. Is that any way to talk to your benefactor? Just a little concerned about you. You haven't been out in the field lately.”

“In case you haven’t been keeping up with the sports pages, I got my bloody hands hacked off by that deranged slayer you sent me after.” Spike flashed some fang then stepped aside, letting Doyle enter since Buffy had, by then, headed off to the bathroom.

“Yeah, I'm sorry about that, but, hey, your good old buddies at Wolfram & Hart managed to reattach them just fine, huh? You can sit around here and um…play.”

Spike watched Doyle’s eyes darting over toward the bedroom. “Rehab, mate. Working out the digits.” Spike leaned against the open door. “Look, thanks for the stop by to see how ‘m on the mends, but my lady’s here and she looks far better in a nurse’s uniform than you so...” Spike mimicked walking with two fingers.

“Don't forget you got a job to do. The Powers That Be are counting on their champion.” Clearly taking the hint, Doyle started out the door. “So are all the other helpless people—”

“I don't need a pep talk, Doyle. I already plan on going out. You just get one of your visions to tell me when and where.”

“That's what I like—” Doyle’s cell phone rang. “That's what I like to hear.” Doyle pulled his cell phone out from his jacket pocket, then moved further into the hall and answered, “Yeah?”

Spike idly picked at his nails waiting for Doyle to finish. After a moment, he realized he could be using this time far more productively, like in the bedroom with Buffy. He was pulling the door shut when Doyle began to moan. Spike watched Doyle drop his phone and clutch his head with both hands, wincing in pain and then looking up at Spike with wide eyes. Spike glared back, thoroughly pissed off he was missing sudsy fun time with the Slayer for a throwback to his chip-having days.

“What the bleedin’ hell was that?”

“Your new mission.”

 

*****

 

“Do you hafta?” The following day, Buffy was hugging Spike tightly as they stood at his apartment door.

“Sorry, luv, duty calls. My bloke with direct links to the Powers said I’m needed, so I gotta go.”

“I get that, believe me I do, it’s just... last time Angel was such an ass and I don’t want you to go.”

Spike watched Buffy pout. He was just itching to say the hell with it all, but this was the reason why he stayed in LA. Hero to the people. Helping the helpless— even if the helpless happened to be The Mighty Forehead himself.

After taking another look at Buffy’s pout and all wrapped up just in his black tee, Spike opened the door. He really needed to get going before he changed his mind and dragged his girl back to bed, or shagged her against the wall. Either, or perhaps both worked just as well.

Get a grip, mate

“Grumble. I thought for sure the power of the pout would’ve worked.” Buffy pulled Spike into a lingering kiss, then playfully swatted his behind. “Fine, go be the hero.”

Spike pressed another kiss to her lips before heading down the hallway. Turning midway, he called back, “Offer still stands…sexy sidekick.” Spike waggled his brows and got a smile from Buffy.

“Go, so you can hurry back.” Buffy blew Spike a kiss then closed the door.

Spike stared at the door for a moment before heading toward Wolfram and Hart.

 

*****

 

“So what are we exactly looking for?” Buffy walked several feet ahead of Spike, one hand steadily holding a flashlight while the other was on the stake in her waistband.

Spike wasn’t surprised when Buffy caught up to him in the sewers not even a block from his flat. Not that her company put him out any. Quite the contrary. He knew his girl wasn’t one for the sidelines. Always throwing herself into the thick of it, that one, and he loved every second of it. It was especially brilliant now since she’d traded in his black tee for his black silk shirt, fashioned into some sort of sexy knotted jobby cinched at her tiny waist, plus a pair of jeans that cradled her arse perfectly—just as his hands had not too long ago. And if the two of them storming Evil Inc. together pissed off Angel in the process, well, that was just another bonus.

Damn, unlife is good

Spike dropped his eyes from Buffy’s arse, shook his head to clear it while hurrying to catch up with her. If his tinglies were right, they were nearing Wolfram and Hart.

“Don’t rightly know. Doyle didn’t give particulars. Told me to keep an eye out for a hell bitch in a Cordelia suit.”

“Are you sure he didn’t say keep an eye out for that hell bitch Cordelia in a suit? Now that totally makes more sense.” Buffy smirked and stopped. “So where is this secret door? Cause I gotta tell you, sewer travel is way overrated.” She batted away a cobweb.

“Just up ahead. It leads up to a utility closet. Door’s hidden behind a rack of loo rolls.” Spike walked several feet more. “Spotted this escape hatch on my ghostly travels. Only so many hours of annoying Angel can one ghost make.” Finally finding the spot he was looking for, Spike reached up and shifted a brick which made a section of the wall move and expose a staircase.

“Wow, very Clue-like. Are you sure we’re not meeting Professor Plum with a candlestick in the Conservatory?” Spike gave her a scarred-brow raise, causing Buffy to shake her head. “Never mind, lead the way.”

A set of stairs, another lever and secret door later, they were standing inside a Wolfram and Hart’s utility closet. Before heading out, Spike listened at the door to make sure the coast was clear. Hearing no one in the hallway, Spike motioned for Buffy to follow him out. Silently they walked through the maze of corridors for what seemed like forever. He’d been so sure he knew the way, but every hallway looked exactly the same. Right before deciding they needed to double back, Spike heard a familiar male voice and signaled for Buffy to hang back as he rounded the corner alone.

“Spike. What the hell are you doing here? Thought you’d be half way to Rome by now.” Angel crossed his arms, his stance rigid. Clearly he was brassed off.

Bonus

“Actually ‘m here on business. Helping the helpless now, or hadn’t Crocket and Tubbs given you the memo after their little visit to my flat?” Spike stood taller, fully enjoying the self-doubt setting shop up on Angel’s face.

“Look, I don’t have time for this.” Angel pushed past Spike.

Spike grabbed Angel’s arm. “Came to tell you, that curvy blast-from-the-past isn’t who you believe or hope her to be.”

Angel shoved off Spike’s hand, then quickly grabbed Spike by the throat and pinned him against the wall. “What do you know about Cordelia?”

Spike sputtered and flailed, trying to break Angel’s hold. “Got the drop, Cordelia was taken over by some big bad. Came to destroy you all.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Spike saw a flash of movement then the pressure on his throat was gone. With a few deep unneeded breaths, Spike turned to watch Buffy at work. She now had Angel pinned against the wall, a stake poised over his heart.

“Now you know I’d never fight Spike’s battles for him, Angel. Actually, not too long ago, I was usually head cheerleader to those beating him up. Cause let’s face it, more often than not, Spike deserved having his ass kicked. But see, this time he doesn’t. And against my better judgment, he came here to warn you. All you have to do is listen. Got it?” Buffy looked over to Spike and nodded. “Okay Spike, you got the floor.”

“Well, that was pretty much the message.” Spike shrugged.

“Oh, well then—” Buffy lowered the stake from Angel’s chest and slipped it into her waistband. “He said what he came here to say, so, um, good luck with that.” Buffy headed over to Spike, and together they started walking down the hall.

“Buffy?” Angel called out. Both Spike and Buffy stopped and turned toward him as he approached. “Look, you’re right. I was being, well, am being—”

“A gigantic ass?” Buffy scoffed and added a cocked brow for effect.

“Yeah, that, and I wanted to, well, I needed to apologize for my behavior. To you both.”

For the first time in over a century, Angel actually looked sincere. Even after everything he’d gone through with the bastard, his earnestness struck Spike deeply. They all stood speechless for a moment before Angel broke the silence.

“As for the thing that possessed Cordy, it’s long dead, Spike.”

“Well, looks like tattoo boy was wrong this time.” Spike shrugged his shoulders and looked at Buffy.

“Tattoos?” Angel furrowed his brow, staring intently at Spike.

“Yeah, strange markings. Symbols. Tribal-like. Why?”

“Cordy’s vision had tattoos. She and Wes were researching them, found out some interesting information. But it wasn’t a lot to go on. Maybe this is another lead.” Angel shifted. “If you guys are willing, you know, we can certainly use the help. If you’re both up to more researching.”

Spike and Buffy exchanged looks, then Buffy smiled. “Sure, Angel, we’ll help.”

 

*****

 

“Buffy.” Cordelia approached Buffy, giving her a once over.

“Cordelia.” Buffy returned the icy reception.

“So how’ve you been?” Cordelia crossed her arms, jutting one hip to the side.

“Died, resurrected…rinse repeat, was in heaven, closed a Hellmouth. You?” Buffy mirrored Cordelia’s pose.

“Elevated to a higher plane, two mystical pregnancies, coma. You know, typical Tuesdays.”

“Yeah, ain’t that the truth.” Buffy’s eyes lowered then she looked back up, smiling. “Gotta say, lovin’ the Manolos.”

“Gorgeous, aren’t they?” Cordelia smiled as she modeled her shoes. “Now, the shoe gods would totally strike me down for saying this, but these look like Birkenstocks compared to the shoes I had in Pylea.”

Cordelia called over to Angel who was standing off to the side with Spike as he watched with rapt interest. “Angel, did you tell Buffy about when I was a princess? I mean, yeah, it was in a hell dimension and I wasn’t exactly queen, but hello? Me. A princess. Gotta love it.”

“Cordy, research first. Talk of Pylea later.” Angel headed over to the table and held out a book.

“Fine, Mr. Buzzkill. So why is it never the time to talk about when it was me in charge, huh? Can you say jealous much?” Cordelia snatched the book from Angel and sat down in a huff.

Buffy and Spike joined Angel and Cordelia at the table. Soon Wesley entered with an armful of books and added them to the growing pile. While Spike sketched Doyle’s tattoos from memory, the others each took one of his drawings and tried to locate them and their meanings.

Cordelia eyed the titles of books in a large stack nearby. “Pergamum Codex and Rhinehardt’s Compendium? Some light reading, huh?”

“Those were for earlier research. For Buffy,” Wesley explained.

Cordelia pushed her book aside. “Well, I certainly need a break from playing name-that-tattoo, so what were you looking for?”

“Long story short? How to read this.” Buffy pulled the “Good Vibrations” book from her satchel and set it on the table.

Cordelia slid the book in front of her and opened to the first page, studying it for a few moments. “Really? You guys couldn’t figure this out?” Cordelia looked around at all the clueless faces, and then rolled her eyes. “Duh, it’s Sanskrit.”

Wesley stood and moved behind Cordelia. “Sanskrit? I don’t believe it is. That was one of the hundreds of languages known to man and demon I compared this script against. It wasn’t a match.”

“Well, I’m not surprised. This is not your typical human-people Sanskrit. This is the super-old Sanskrit, back when demons used it. And when I’m talking demons, I’m meaning the first demons.”

“This is the language of the Old Ones? Primordial Sanskrit?” Wesley grabbed the book from Cordelia, studying closer. “Are you certain?”

“Um, yeah. When your body and mind are hijacked by some rogue member of The Powers That Be, some of their memories kinda tend to stick around.” Cordelia shrugged.

“Really, you can read this?” Buffy’s eyes were wide as she rounded the table to stand next to Cordelia.

“Recognize, yes. Read, no. Sorry, I’m good but not that good. Actually, I am that good, just no hablo Sanskrit.”

“Wes, if Cordelia’s right”— Buffy ignored Cordelia scoffing and continued—“do you think you’ll be able to translate this now?”

“Well, the Devandiré Codex is the only book I know that has any written passages of Primordial Sanskrit.” Buffy’s face fell before Wesley added, “Luckily, we have the only copy in existence.”

Cordelia leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as a smug smile bloomed. “So where do you wanna start, my jewels or the outfits?”