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Chapter 1
Wedding Bell Blues—Chapter 1
“Anya, what the heck are you so antsy about?”
Anya looked at Willow and Tara, and her face clearly showed her agitation and nervousness. “The wedding. It’s a week away, I have a lot left to do, and I can’t seem to get all these traditions straight. Wear white, carry or wear something blue, old, and new, and he can’t see me in my wedding dress. Getting married as a demon is just so much easier! I could have just gone to D’Hoffryn, asked him for a mate, and poof! You’re married, blood larvae and burlap all around, and a nice S’t’a’slk sacrifice for the reception. I’ve been so busy that Xander and I haven’t even had enough time to have many orgasms. All I’ve been able to squeeze into is just two in the last week.”
Tara and Willow looked at her, horrified. “You’re still sleeping with Xander?”
“Yes. We have been sleeping. Not having sex, I’ll have you know.”
Willow blurted, “You’re not supposed to have sex with the groom, Anya. Not until the wedding night. It…builds sexual tension between the couple.”
“What! Where did that stupid tradition come from?”
“It’s just the way it’s done, Anya. Before modern times, the bride and groom weren’t allowed to sleep together at all. It was considered bad luck,” Tara added.
“That’s barbaric. How are you supposed to know if you’re sexually compatible or not.”
“It was called waiting for the wedding night,” Willow sniped, bored with the conversation. “People used to do it all the time.”
“I don’t think that I can. I mean, my orgasms are sometimes the only thing that gets me through the day.”
“Anya!” both girls chorused. Willow moaned.
“Please, don’t be saying things like that. Hasn’t Xander talked to you about that?”
“Xander said that it wasn’t polite. But I thought that since we were all girls, and together, that is what girls talk about, isn’t it? At least, some of it, because I remember listening to the girls in high school…”
“Enough, Anya. Please.” Tara shook her head as she walked over to the conference table.
Anya looked at Willow, a calculating look that nearly gave Willow the shivers. “I don’t want any bad luck to ruin my wedding, but I can’t not have sex with Xander. Willow, you’ll have to cast a spell on us. To keep us from having sex before the wedding.”
Willow’s look turned to horror. “I—I can’t do that! Tara! Tell Anya that I can’t do that!”
Tara looked thoughtful. “Actually, you probably could. You know, give them something like an electric shock every time they...uh…touched each others’…er…you know, body parts. It wouldn’t have to be complicated, and if you added a time framework for it to end, like saying ‘I do’, then it could easily be done, given the permission of all parties.”
“Tara! You’re supposed to support me, not give her ideas.”
“I know, Will, but if she and Xander want it done, then maybe we should think about doing it for them. It could be a wedding gift.”
“Yes, it could be your wedding gift. To Xander and me. We would like it very much, especially for our honeymoon.”
“See, they want it. Let’s do it for them, Will. Or I just will. If they want it, then….”
“I can’t, Tara. I can’t let myself do it anymore.”
Tara looked at Willow, understanding in her eyes. “I know, Will. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have suggested it.”
Willow looked at Tara, tears in her eyes, and grabbed her bag, rushing out of the Magic Box.
Tara turned to Anya. “I’ll do it, but only because I needed to get you something for your wedding. But, you can’t tell anyone. Especially Willow. Or Xander. Or Giles. Okay, so you can’t tell anyone. All right?”
“I solemnly promise.” Anya looked at Tara trustingly, her hand raised in the pose of a Girl Scout. “Is this the right way?” she asked, gesturing with her hand at her hand.
“Yes, fine. Okay, I need to gather some things. We’ll do the spell after the store closes tonight, so get rid of Xander, and everyone else, and I’ll set up the spell in the workout room.”
“Won’t the protection glyphs harm or interrupt the spell?”
Tara looked thoughtful, then shook her head. “I don’t think so. They might even enhance the spell.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Tara looked critically at the circle she had laid. Its outer ring was composed of apple blossoms woven with cyclamen flowers, to draw love, friendship, and truth to their relationship. The inner rings, two of them entwined, were made of lavender for chastity for the couple. Ambergris, cinnamon, and powdered amber waited in a mortar, for the incantation. She listened at the door, waiting to hear the all clear from Anya.
Anya opened the door so suddenly, she hit Tara in the head. Tara backed away, moaning and holding her forehead. “I thought Xander and Giles would never leave. They just stayed, and stayed, and wanted to talk about all kinds of stupid things…Tara, do you have a headache? Why are you holding your head?”
“Anya, you hit me in the head with the door. It hurt. Okay, let’s do this anyway. I’ve got it all set up. All I have to do is light the candles and speak the incantation, and you’ll be all set.”
“Excellent. Let’s get it started. I want to test it.”
Tara rolled her eyes, and started crushing herbs with the pestle. “Okay. You kneel here,” she said, gesturing, “and light the candles. I’ll sprinkle the herbs and invoke the circle.”
Tara’s face grew solemn as she reached inside herself for her power. She kept it tightly wound and buried deep, fearful of its addictive attractions and the way it had overtaken Willow. She took a deep breath, and swayed, her brow furrowing in concentration as she chanted.
“Aradia and Hecate hear my words and heed
Goddesses of witches within pairs I plant this seed
Chastity and purity betwixt the two in need
Aphrodite and Erotes, those who guard the heart
Allow their love to blossom as they make a new start
Bind their hearts and hands and heads to never part
Virtue bind and hold them chaste as they await the day
When vows are spoken, this spell be broken
Upon the words ‘I do’ doth the binding fall away
So mote it be as I have spoken”
Tara was electric with her power. Her hair floated around her head in a ghostly wind, and a small purple ball of light was growing in the innermost section of the enjoined circles. It spun and grew with each word, drawing power from Tara and other unknown quarters, until it hovered a foot above the floor, the size of a softball and spinning dizzily, its light casting shadows on the girls’ faces and the walls of the room. As Tara ended the spell, it expanded into a ring, then thinned, exploding out of the circle and into the room, then through the walls.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Unbeknownst to Anya and Tara, Buffy and Spike were outside the Magic Box in the alley.
Buffy had looked forward to seeing him all day. The Doublemeat had been especially brutal that day, and the only bright spot had been the knowledge that she would be seeing Spike that evening.
She’d had her doubts about their relationship, but after a little research of her own, she’d discovered that there was absolutely nothing wrong with the way they made love. Although she wasn’t ready to admit it to him, she did love him. It thrilled every time he said he loved her, but the words just seemed to stick in her throat every time she tried to say them back.
There were times she tried to rationalize what she felt, repeating in her head that it was just the mind-blowing orgasms and imaginative sex that kept her going back for more, but if that was the case, she could find that elsewhere. No, he watched out for her, protected her, made her feel perfect. Nobody else had ever made her feel perfect.
When she got to the alley, she thought she was early. She saw no sign of Spike, or anyone else, which was a good. She wasn’t ready to share this with anyone yet. She sniffed, and smelled smoke, and then saw the glowing tip of a cigarette.
“Spike, come out to play.”
He stepped forward into the dim light from the streetlamp, a wide smile on his face. “Didn’t think you’d show, pet.”
“How come?”
“Making plans t’ see me now. Almost like a date.”
“When you go on a date, you go somewhere. We’re just meeting in the alley so we can go…somewhere. Okay, almost like a date.”
“So, date, do I get a kiss?”
Her lips curled in a smile. “Why, certainly, sir, you may have a kiss.” She stepped closer to him, gripped his lapels in her fists, and raised her face to his. She looked into the bottomless blue of his eyes, then slowly drew him to her by the coat. Her lips barely grazed his at first, then she pulled him closer and his arms encircled her for balance.
He drew her against him and trapped her arms between them, then deepened the kiss, sweeping her mouth with his tongue. She matched him gracefully, their tongues dancing as his hands roamed over her body. She moaned, deep in her throat, as he cupped her ass with both hands and pressed her against him, his bulge already growing, seeking her heat.
Her fingers flexed, wanting more, wanting to touch him, and he chuckled at her predicament. Instead, she raised her arms and wound them around his neck, teasing his ear and toying with his hair as he explored her lips thoroughly, curls springing loose everywhere she raked her fingers. He tore his mouth away from hers to gasp when she reached under his shirt and raked her nails across his back, then looked down to see the growing smile on her face.
“Little minx. You’ll pay for that later.”
“Can’t I pay now?” she asked, pouting, and he lowered his head to catch her lip between his teeth, nibbling softly. She moaned again, and ground her hips against him, her heart pounding and her clit pulsating with the tension he was building inside her.
“Oh, Buffy, you don’t know what you do to me.” He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her sweet scent. “God, I love you.”
She pulled back to look in his eyes for the reality, and saw it clearly, his feelings plainly written on his face. He saw a glimpse, a glance at her eyes and the feelings she was unable to hide before she dropped her lashes and kissed him again, distracting him from analyzing what he had seen there.
He leaned her against the back wall of the Magic Box, and they were kissing still when he felt the press of magic being performed close by. He stilled, in the process of pulling away from Buffy’s sweet lips, when he felt a pulse of magic pouring through him, through them both, filling their bodies with powerful longing and lust. He jerked backward, startled, eyes wide and staring at Buffy. She stared back at him, not understanding what she was feeling, but knowing that it wasn’t good.
“What the bloody fuck was that?!”
Buffy turned to look at the wall behind her. “I think it came from the training room.”
Spike grabbed the doorknob and found it locked. He drew back to kick it open, and Buffy stepped in front of him, raising her hand to stop him while she dragged keys out of her jacket pocket. She unlocked the door, and both of them stopped in the doorway, horrified by what they saw.
The remnants of the spell had scattered, consumed by the ball as it grew in power. The flowers were withered, some dead; the candles completely consumed, smoke swirling. Tara and Anya were slumped on their sides, eyes closed. The air vibrated with residual magick, and their hair stood on end at the energy contained in the room.
Spike looked around at the walls, and said, “What were they doing magick for in this room? Didn’t they see the glyphs on the wall? That’s magick too. Prolly amplified the whole thing. Made it bigger.”
Buffy knelt by Tara, checking her over. “Check on Anya. I need to call Giles.”
Thank God for speed dial, she thought, reaching for the phone. Moments later, Giles was on the other end of the line, and a quick rundown of what they found had him strangely silent. Buffy got worried, and said, “Giles, what are the markings on the walls for? I know they’re spells of some kind, but what kind?”
“Well, actually, they are part of a complex spell to draw strength to the Slayer, among other things. I cannot imagine the magickal ramifications of this, depending on what they were doing at the time. I have an idea—I overheard a snippet of conversation at the shop this morning between Willow, Tara, and Anya about wedding traditions. I suspect that Anya was having Tara cast a spell.”
“Are you coming?”
“I’ll be there shortly. Just try to wake them up, and give them some tea.”
Tea. Giles’ answer to all ills. Buffy cradled the receiver, and turned back to check on Spike’s progress rousing the pair.
They were both sitting up, at least. Tara was holding her forehead, Anya her shoulder where they’d hit when they fell. Buffy picked Tara up off the ground easily, helping her to her feet, and assisted her into the main shop and over to the table, with Spike and Anya close behind them.
“Anya, what the heck are you so antsy about?”
Anya looked at Willow and Tara, and her face clearly showed her agitation and nervousness. “The wedding. It’s a week away, I have a lot left to do, and I can’t seem to get all these traditions straight. Wear white, carry or wear something blue, old, and new, and he can’t see me in my wedding dress. Getting married as a demon is just so much easier! I could have just gone to D’Hoffryn, asked him for a mate, and poof! You’re married, blood larvae and burlap all around, and a nice S’t’a’slk sacrifice for the reception. I’ve been so busy that Xander and I haven’t even had enough time to have many orgasms. All I’ve been able to squeeze into is just two in the last week.”
Tara and Willow looked at her, horrified. “You’re still sleeping with Xander?”
“Yes. We have been sleeping. Not having sex, I’ll have you know.”
Willow blurted, “You’re not supposed to have sex with the groom, Anya. Not until the wedding night. It…builds sexual tension between the couple.”
“What! Where did that stupid tradition come from?”
“It’s just the way it’s done, Anya. Before modern times, the bride and groom weren’t allowed to sleep together at all. It was considered bad luck,” Tara added.
“That’s barbaric. How are you supposed to know if you’re sexually compatible or not.”
“It was called waiting for the wedding night,” Willow sniped, bored with the conversation. “People used to do it all the time.”
“I don’t think that I can. I mean, my orgasms are sometimes the only thing that gets me through the day.”
“Anya!” both girls chorused. Willow moaned.
“Please, don’t be saying things like that. Hasn’t Xander talked to you about that?”
“Xander said that it wasn’t polite. But I thought that since we were all girls, and together, that is what girls talk about, isn’t it? At least, some of it, because I remember listening to the girls in high school…”
“Enough, Anya. Please.” Tara shook her head as she walked over to the conference table.
Anya looked at Willow, a calculating look that nearly gave Willow the shivers. “I don’t want any bad luck to ruin my wedding, but I can’t not have sex with Xander. Willow, you’ll have to cast a spell on us. To keep us from having sex before the wedding.”
Willow’s look turned to horror. “I—I can’t do that! Tara! Tell Anya that I can’t do that!”
Tara looked thoughtful. “Actually, you probably could. You know, give them something like an electric shock every time they...uh…touched each others’…er…you know, body parts. It wouldn’t have to be complicated, and if you added a time framework for it to end, like saying ‘I do’, then it could easily be done, given the permission of all parties.”
“Tara! You’re supposed to support me, not give her ideas.”
“I know, Will, but if she and Xander want it done, then maybe we should think about doing it for them. It could be a wedding gift.”
“Yes, it could be your wedding gift. To Xander and me. We would like it very much, especially for our honeymoon.”
“See, they want it. Let’s do it for them, Will. Or I just will. If they want it, then….”
“I can’t, Tara. I can’t let myself do it anymore.”
Tara looked at Willow, understanding in her eyes. “I know, Will. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have suggested it.”
Willow looked at Tara, tears in her eyes, and grabbed her bag, rushing out of the Magic Box.
Tara turned to Anya. “I’ll do it, but only because I needed to get you something for your wedding. But, you can’t tell anyone. Especially Willow. Or Xander. Or Giles. Okay, so you can’t tell anyone. All right?”
“I solemnly promise.” Anya looked at Tara trustingly, her hand raised in the pose of a Girl Scout. “Is this the right way?” she asked, gesturing with her hand at her hand.
“Yes, fine. Okay, I need to gather some things. We’ll do the spell after the store closes tonight, so get rid of Xander, and everyone else, and I’ll set up the spell in the workout room.”
“Won’t the protection glyphs harm or interrupt the spell?”
Tara looked thoughtful, then shook her head. “I don’t think so. They might even enhance the spell.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Tara looked critically at the circle she had laid. Its outer ring was composed of apple blossoms woven with cyclamen flowers, to draw love, friendship, and truth to their relationship. The inner rings, two of them entwined, were made of lavender for chastity for the couple. Ambergris, cinnamon, and powdered amber waited in a mortar, for the incantation. She listened at the door, waiting to hear the all clear from Anya.
Anya opened the door so suddenly, she hit Tara in the head. Tara backed away, moaning and holding her forehead. “I thought Xander and Giles would never leave. They just stayed, and stayed, and wanted to talk about all kinds of stupid things…Tara, do you have a headache? Why are you holding your head?”
“Anya, you hit me in the head with the door. It hurt. Okay, let’s do this anyway. I’ve got it all set up. All I have to do is light the candles and speak the incantation, and you’ll be all set.”
“Excellent. Let’s get it started. I want to test it.”
Tara rolled her eyes, and started crushing herbs with the pestle. “Okay. You kneel here,” she said, gesturing, “and light the candles. I’ll sprinkle the herbs and invoke the circle.”
Tara’s face grew solemn as she reached inside herself for her power. She kept it tightly wound and buried deep, fearful of its addictive attractions and the way it had overtaken Willow. She took a deep breath, and swayed, her brow furrowing in concentration as she chanted.
“Aradia and Hecate hear my words and heed
Goddesses of witches within pairs I plant this seed
Chastity and purity betwixt the two in need
Aphrodite and Erotes, those who guard the heart
Allow their love to blossom as they make a new start
Bind their hearts and hands and heads to never part
Virtue bind and hold them chaste as they await the day
When vows are spoken, this spell be broken
Upon the words ‘I do’ doth the binding fall away
So mote it be as I have spoken”
Tara was electric with her power. Her hair floated around her head in a ghostly wind, and a small purple ball of light was growing in the innermost section of the enjoined circles. It spun and grew with each word, drawing power from Tara and other unknown quarters, until it hovered a foot above the floor, the size of a softball and spinning dizzily, its light casting shadows on the girls’ faces and the walls of the room. As Tara ended the spell, it expanded into a ring, then thinned, exploding out of the circle and into the room, then through the walls.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Unbeknownst to Anya and Tara, Buffy and Spike were outside the Magic Box in the alley.
Buffy had looked forward to seeing him all day. The Doublemeat had been especially brutal that day, and the only bright spot had been the knowledge that she would be seeing Spike that evening.
She’d had her doubts about their relationship, but after a little research of her own, she’d discovered that there was absolutely nothing wrong with the way they made love. Although she wasn’t ready to admit it to him, she did love him. It thrilled every time he said he loved her, but the words just seemed to stick in her throat every time she tried to say them back.
There were times she tried to rationalize what she felt, repeating in her head that it was just the mind-blowing orgasms and imaginative sex that kept her going back for more, but if that was the case, she could find that elsewhere. No, he watched out for her, protected her, made her feel perfect. Nobody else had ever made her feel perfect.
When she got to the alley, she thought she was early. She saw no sign of Spike, or anyone else, which was a good. She wasn’t ready to share this with anyone yet. She sniffed, and smelled smoke, and then saw the glowing tip of a cigarette.
“Spike, come out to play.”
He stepped forward into the dim light from the streetlamp, a wide smile on his face. “Didn’t think you’d show, pet.”
“How come?”
“Making plans t’ see me now. Almost like a date.”
“When you go on a date, you go somewhere. We’re just meeting in the alley so we can go…somewhere. Okay, almost like a date.”
“So, date, do I get a kiss?”
Her lips curled in a smile. “Why, certainly, sir, you may have a kiss.” She stepped closer to him, gripped his lapels in her fists, and raised her face to his. She looked into the bottomless blue of his eyes, then slowly drew him to her by the coat. Her lips barely grazed his at first, then she pulled him closer and his arms encircled her for balance.
He drew her against him and trapped her arms between them, then deepened the kiss, sweeping her mouth with his tongue. She matched him gracefully, their tongues dancing as his hands roamed over her body. She moaned, deep in her throat, as he cupped her ass with both hands and pressed her against him, his bulge already growing, seeking her heat.
Her fingers flexed, wanting more, wanting to touch him, and he chuckled at her predicament. Instead, she raised her arms and wound them around his neck, teasing his ear and toying with his hair as he explored her lips thoroughly, curls springing loose everywhere she raked her fingers. He tore his mouth away from hers to gasp when she reached under his shirt and raked her nails across his back, then looked down to see the growing smile on her face.
“Little minx. You’ll pay for that later.”
“Can’t I pay now?” she asked, pouting, and he lowered his head to catch her lip between his teeth, nibbling softly. She moaned again, and ground her hips against him, her heart pounding and her clit pulsating with the tension he was building inside her.
“Oh, Buffy, you don’t know what you do to me.” He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her sweet scent. “God, I love you.”
She pulled back to look in his eyes for the reality, and saw it clearly, his feelings plainly written on his face. He saw a glimpse, a glance at her eyes and the feelings she was unable to hide before she dropped her lashes and kissed him again, distracting him from analyzing what he had seen there.
He leaned her against the back wall of the Magic Box, and they were kissing still when he felt the press of magic being performed close by. He stilled, in the process of pulling away from Buffy’s sweet lips, when he felt a pulse of magic pouring through him, through them both, filling their bodies with powerful longing and lust. He jerked backward, startled, eyes wide and staring at Buffy. She stared back at him, not understanding what she was feeling, but knowing that it wasn’t good.
“What the bloody fuck was that?!”
Buffy turned to look at the wall behind her. “I think it came from the training room.”
Spike grabbed the doorknob and found it locked. He drew back to kick it open, and Buffy stepped in front of him, raising her hand to stop him while she dragged keys out of her jacket pocket. She unlocked the door, and both of them stopped in the doorway, horrified by what they saw.
The remnants of the spell had scattered, consumed by the ball as it grew in power. The flowers were withered, some dead; the candles completely consumed, smoke swirling. Tara and Anya were slumped on their sides, eyes closed. The air vibrated with residual magick, and their hair stood on end at the energy contained in the room.
Spike looked around at the walls, and said, “What were they doing magick for in this room? Didn’t they see the glyphs on the wall? That’s magick too. Prolly amplified the whole thing. Made it bigger.”
Buffy knelt by Tara, checking her over. “Check on Anya. I need to call Giles.”
Thank God for speed dial, she thought, reaching for the phone. Moments later, Giles was on the other end of the line, and a quick rundown of what they found had him strangely silent. Buffy got worried, and said, “Giles, what are the markings on the walls for? I know they’re spells of some kind, but what kind?”
“Well, actually, they are part of a complex spell to draw strength to the Slayer, among other things. I cannot imagine the magickal ramifications of this, depending on what they were doing at the time. I have an idea—I overheard a snippet of conversation at the shop this morning between Willow, Tara, and Anya about wedding traditions. I suspect that Anya was having Tara cast a spell.”
“Are you coming?”
“I’ll be there shortly. Just try to wake them up, and give them some tea.”
Tea. Giles’ answer to all ills. Buffy cradled the receiver, and turned back to check on Spike’s progress rousing the pair.
They were both sitting up, at least. Tara was holding her forehead, Anya her shoulder where they’d hit when they fell. Buffy picked Tara up off the ground easily, helping her to her feet, and assisted her into the main shop and over to the table, with Spike and Anya close behind them.
Chapter 2
Wedding Bell Blues—Chapter 2
Buffy turned to the task of making the girls tea, and Spike slouched at the table and chatted them up. “So, Glinda, what were you up to in there? Didn’t look like training, or anything.”
“We were, uh…Anya?”
“We were doing a spell. Couldn’t you see that?”
“Yes, I saw that. A spell. With glyphs of whatever on the walls. And did you research them, see what they meant?”
“A couple mean strength. One stands for power. I don’t know about the others.”
“Yeah, that power one. Isn’t that the one on the floor? Where your circles were?”
Tara closed her eyes and dropped her face into her hands. “What have I done?”
“Think you cast a spell, Glinda. Think it was a pretty powerful big one. What was it for?”
Tara’s face flushed prettily. “Actually, it was for Anya….”
Buffy placed two cups of tea in front of them, and sat down next to Spike, but not too close. Didn’t want to give them ideas, even if Tara did already know. “And it does…what?”
“It, uh, was to make them chaste before their wedding. To make their wedding night…memorable. To keep them from having sex before the wedding.”
“Oh.” Buffy had no idea what to say to that. “Does Xander know?”
“No, and please don’t tell him. It was actually more for me than for Xander. I don’t think he needs it anyway—I’m always the one who initiates sex between us. I think he….”
“Please, no more, Anya.” Buffy put her hands in the air. “ I surrender.”
“Bloody stake me so I don’ have to listen to this.” Spike rolled his eyes. “Well, Glinda, I’m impressed. When I felt it—“
“You felt it?” Tara asked, panicking.
“Yeah, and, uh, Buffy did too. Didn’t you, Slayer?”
“Oh my Goddess.” Tara put her hand to her mouth, and stood, walking away from the table. Buffy followed her, and put her arm around Tara’s shoulders. “What is it, Tara?”
“Buffy, you and Spike shouldn’t have felt that spell. That should have been specific to Xander and Anya alone. Did you see a purple glow?” Tara whispered.
Buffy thought for a moment, and nodded. “Yeah, the whole alley was lit up with it.”
“Buffy, I think that the spell…I think that you and Spike got caught it in too. I cast it on you too. I…you crossed my mind while I was chanting, and it may have made the spell seek out the two of you. I’m so sorry.” Tears threatened to spill, and Buffy pulled her into a quick hug.
“Tara, it’s okay. You didn’t do it on purpose, it was accidental. How could you help it, I’ve been running to you with all my problems ‘cause I’m not comfortable asking Willow to do it, since she swore off magick. I know you didn’t mean to.”
“But you and Spike…?”
“Yeah, me and Spike.” Buffy sighed. “The sex is fantastic. And, I…do kind of care about him. He makes me feel safe.”
“Even knowing he can bite you?”
“Maybe especially knowing the chip doesn’t work, and he could kill me. But he doesn’t. He patrols with me, he fights demons and vampires alike, he…he takes care of me and Dawn, watches out for us. And he loves me, Tara. He loves me, and tells me he does when I let him. He tells me he’ll always be there.” She looked at the blond witch, and smiled a shaky smile at best. “And I can’t tell him. Because I’m afraid if I do, then he’ll leave me too.” Just like the others, was the unvoiced end of the sentence, and Tara knew it.
“I don’t think he would. I know he loves you, Buffy. You can see it in his aura. And you do love him—it’s in yours, too.”
Another quick hug, and they joined Spike and Anya back at the table, where they had been watching the by-play with interest. “So, what do we do now?”
“We wait for Giles to get here.”
Buffy turned to the task of making the girls tea, and Spike slouched at the table and chatted them up. “So, Glinda, what were you up to in there? Didn’t look like training, or anything.”
“We were, uh…Anya?”
“We were doing a spell. Couldn’t you see that?”
“Yes, I saw that. A spell. With glyphs of whatever on the walls. And did you research them, see what they meant?”
“A couple mean strength. One stands for power. I don’t know about the others.”
“Yeah, that power one. Isn’t that the one on the floor? Where your circles were?”
Tara closed her eyes and dropped her face into her hands. “What have I done?”
“Think you cast a spell, Glinda. Think it was a pretty powerful big one. What was it for?”
Tara’s face flushed prettily. “Actually, it was for Anya….”
Buffy placed two cups of tea in front of them, and sat down next to Spike, but not too close. Didn’t want to give them ideas, even if Tara did already know. “And it does…what?”
“It, uh, was to make them chaste before their wedding. To make their wedding night…memorable. To keep them from having sex before the wedding.”
“Oh.” Buffy had no idea what to say to that. “Does Xander know?”
“No, and please don’t tell him. It was actually more for me than for Xander. I don’t think he needs it anyway—I’m always the one who initiates sex between us. I think he….”
“Please, no more, Anya.” Buffy put her hands in the air. “ I surrender.”
“Bloody stake me so I don’ have to listen to this.” Spike rolled his eyes. “Well, Glinda, I’m impressed. When I felt it—“
“You felt it?” Tara asked, panicking.
“Yeah, and, uh, Buffy did too. Didn’t you, Slayer?”
“Oh my Goddess.” Tara put her hand to her mouth, and stood, walking away from the table. Buffy followed her, and put her arm around Tara’s shoulders. “What is it, Tara?”
“Buffy, you and Spike shouldn’t have felt that spell. That should have been specific to Xander and Anya alone. Did you see a purple glow?” Tara whispered.
Buffy thought for a moment, and nodded. “Yeah, the whole alley was lit up with it.”
“Buffy, I think that the spell…I think that you and Spike got caught it in too. I cast it on you too. I…you crossed my mind while I was chanting, and it may have made the spell seek out the two of you. I’m so sorry.” Tears threatened to spill, and Buffy pulled her into a quick hug.
“Tara, it’s okay. You didn’t do it on purpose, it was accidental. How could you help it, I’ve been running to you with all my problems ‘cause I’m not comfortable asking Willow to do it, since she swore off magick. I know you didn’t mean to.”
“But you and Spike…?”
“Yeah, me and Spike.” Buffy sighed. “The sex is fantastic. And, I…do kind of care about him. He makes me feel safe.”
“Even knowing he can bite you?”
“Maybe especially knowing the chip doesn’t work, and he could kill me. But he doesn’t. He patrols with me, he fights demons and vampires alike, he…he takes care of me and Dawn, watches out for us. And he loves me, Tara. He loves me, and tells me he does when I let him. He tells me he’ll always be there.” She looked at the blond witch, and smiled a shaky smile at best. “And I can’t tell him. Because I’m afraid if I do, then he’ll leave me too.” Just like the others, was the unvoiced end of the sentence, and Tara knew it.
“I don’t think he would. I know he loves you, Buffy. You can see it in his aura. And you do love him—it’s in yours, too.”
Another quick hug, and they joined Spike and Anya back at the table, where they had been watching the by-play with interest. “So, what do we do now?”
“We wait for Giles to get here.”
Chapter 3
Wedding Bell Blues—Chapter 3
“And wait no more.” Giles said, entering the back door. “I saw the spell. What was left of it. Tara, what were you thinking?”
“I’m sorry, Giles. I never thought that this would happen. Aren’t they all protection spells?”
“Some are. Some are to draw power, recharge the psyche, so to speak. Some are for amplification of good intent and good will. They are all positive spells, but spells nonetheless. I can’t imagine what it did to the spell you were casting. What spell were you casting, by the way?”
“It was so Xander and I wouldn’t have sex until our wedding night.” Anya said proudly.
“What will it do?” Buffy and Giles said simultaneously.
“Well, I don’t know exactly.” Tara handed Giles the paper with the spell on it, and he read it through.
“It seems that it is a chastity and purity spell, to prevent s-sexual congress between the couple until the end of the spell. Tara, is it safe to assume that you set a time frame on the spell?”
“Of course. As soon as Xander and Anya say ‘I do’, the spell will dissolve.”
After quickly relaying what happened with the glowing purple orb during the spell, Tara said, “I felt the magick go through me.”
“Me too,” Anya added.
“Oh dear Lord.” Giles removed his glasses, and cleaned them thoughtfully. “So you and Tara were affected, correct?”
Both girls nodded.
“Spike and I both felt it. And there was a glow,” Buffy said.
Giles’ head snapped up, and he looked closely at the guilty blondes. “And where were you?”
“We were meeting in the alley to patrol. Slayer?” Buffy said, proud of her quick thinking. “We were talking about where to start when the glowy stuff started and we felt the magick in the air. It was easy to turn around and open the door.”
“I see. Er, Anya, why do you think that you needed such a spell?”
“Because it’s bad luck to have sex and orgasms before the wedding. Willow and Tara both said so. No bad luck for me. Had some before, took me a hundred and fifty years to get rid of it.” She smiled; not noticing the rolling eyes and grimaces all around the table. “So I asked Willow to cast it, and she wouldn’t. Tara finally said that she would, after I asked her.”
“I wouldn’t have done it if I would have known about the glyphs…. I won’t do it again, Giles, I promise.”
“Good.” Giles put his glasses on, and scooted back from the table. I think we can go home and go to bed right now, and research this in the morning. Nothing will have happened by then, we hope.“
“Yes, I certainly hoped that this worked, because I just want to go home and have multiple orgasms to relieve my stress.” Anya grabbed her jacket, and hurried out the front door, limping slightly.
“Come, Tara, I’ll give you a lift home. Buffy, are you and Spike still going to patrol?”
“Just a quick one tonight, Giles. I’m tired. Tough day at the office.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning before work then, for training.”
She nodded, and went to lock the front door of the shop while he and Tara left by the back door.
She turned to find Spike close behind her. “So, pet, would you be wanting to finish what we started in the alley?” He ran his finger down her arm to the palm of her hand, where he drew little circles with his fingertip.
She looked at him, wondering what was in his mind. “I don’t know, Spike. We need to patrol, I need a good night’s sleep, and I need to be home earlier than last night. All these late nights are making Buffy old.”
“You’ll never be old. You only get more beautiful every day.”
“I feel old sometimes. Like I should be retiring or something. But Slayers don’t retire.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “They need a tee shirt for that, don’t they. Anyway—maybe later, before we go home.”
“All right, pet. I’m in your willing hands. Point me toward the bad guys.”
They held hands as they shut off the lights and left the shop, the remnants of the spell still on the workout room floor. They didn’t notice the purplish glow around them as they crossed the circles, nor did they see it rise and settle over their shoulders like shrouds. All they could see was in the other’s eyes—they held all they needed to know, or wanted to.
“And wait no more.” Giles said, entering the back door. “I saw the spell. What was left of it. Tara, what were you thinking?”
“I’m sorry, Giles. I never thought that this would happen. Aren’t they all protection spells?”
“Some are. Some are to draw power, recharge the psyche, so to speak. Some are for amplification of good intent and good will. They are all positive spells, but spells nonetheless. I can’t imagine what it did to the spell you were casting. What spell were you casting, by the way?”
“It was so Xander and I wouldn’t have sex until our wedding night.” Anya said proudly.
“What will it do?” Buffy and Giles said simultaneously.
“Well, I don’t know exactly.” Tara handed Giles the paper with the spell on it, and he read it through.
“It seems that it is a chastity and purity spell, to prevent s-sexual congress between the couple until the end of the spell. Tara, is it safe to assume that you set a time frame on the spell?”
“Of course. As soon as Xander and Anya say ‘I do’, the spell will dissolve.”
After quickly relaying what happened with the glowing purple orb during the spell, Tara said, “I felt the magick go through me.”
“Me too,” Anya added.
“Oh dear Lord.” Giles removed his glasses, and cleaned them thoughtfully. “So you and Tara were affected, correct?”
Both girls nodded.
“Spike and I both felt it. And there was a glow,” Buffy said.
Giles’ head snapped up, and he looked closely at the guilty blondes. “And where were you?”
“We were meeting in the alley to patrol. Slayer?” Buffy said, proud of her quick thinking. “We were talking about where to start when the glowy stuff started and we felt the magick in the air. It was easy to turn around and open the door.”
“I see. Er, Anya, why do you think that you needed such a spell?”
“Because it’s bad luck to have sex and orgasms before the wedding. Willow and Tara both said so. No bad luck for me. Had some before, took me a hundred and fifty years to get rid of it.” She smiled; not noticing the rolling eyes and grimaces all around the table. “So I asked Willow to cast it, and she wouldn’t. Tara finally said that she would, after I asked her.”
“I wouldn’t have done it if I would have known about the glyphs…. I won’t do it again, Giles, I promise.”
“Good.” Giles put his glasses on, and scooted back from the table. I think we can go home and go to bed right now, and research this in the morning. Nothing will have happened by then, we hope.“
“Yes, I certainly hoped that this worked, because I just want to go home and have multiple orgasms to relieve my stress.” Anya grabbed her jacket, and hurried out the front door, limping slightly.
“Come, Tara, I’ll give you a lift home. Buffy, are you and Spike still going to patrol?”
“Just a quick one tonight, Giles. I’m tired. Tough day at the office.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow morning before work then, for training.”
She nodded, and went to lock the front door of the shop while he and Tara left by the back door.
She turned to find Spike close behind her. “So, pet, would you be wanting to finish what we started in the alley?” He ran his finger down her arm to the palm of her hand, where he drew little circles with his fingertip.
She looked at him, wondering what was in his mind. “I don’t know, Spike. We need to patrol, I need a good night’s sleep, and I need to be home earlier than last night. All these late nights are making Buffy old.”
“You’ll never be old. You only get more beautiful every day.”
“I feel old sometimes. Like I should be retiring or something. But Slayers don’t retire.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “They need a tee shirt for that, don’t they. Anyway—maybe later, before we go home.”
“All right, pet. I’m in your willing hands. Point me toward the bad guys.”
They held hands as they shut off the lights and left the shop, the remnants of the spell still on the workout room floor. They didn’t notice the purplish glow around them as they crossed the circles, nor did they see it rise and settle over their shoulders like shrouds. All they could see was in the other’s eyes—they held all they needed to know, or wanted to.
Chapter 4
Wedding Bell Blues—Chapter 4
He walked her home after their last staking over at Restfield Cemetery.
“You really didn’t have to walk me home, Spike. You could have just hit the crypt for the night, relaxed.”
“I’d rather be with you,” he said, his voice quiet in the darkness. He couldn’t tell her that he already spent too many lonely hours there alone, waiting for her to come. He dare not say how much he would rather be with her. He would just let her fool herself into thinking that he walked her home because of the baddies, and leave it at that.
“Okay. So, are you coming in when you get me home, or are you just going to stand under my tree and watch my window until morning?”
He looked down at her, surprised that she knew his actions. She looked up at him, and said, “You know, I have a very sensitive nose. Cigarette smoke floats upward, then disappears. I can tell, every time you’re outside. That, and the number of butts I pick up in the yard the next day.”
“Oh. Buffy—“ he started.
“You could come in and see if we have a movie to watch, or if there’s one on TV. I always have to wind down a bit before I go to bed anyway, otherwise I don’t sleep.”
“That would be nice. Only if you’re okay with it.”
“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have asked.” She linked her arm with his. “Why don’t you push for a little more, Spike. You know I would give a little if you pushed a little. Not ready to pick out curtains, or anything, but, uh…you’re my guy.”
“I’m your guy?” He looked at her, shadows hiding her expression, but the intent clear in her voice. “I didn’t know….”
“After all we’ve been through? Yeah, I think I have the pleasure of saying that you’re my guy. We’ve been through a lot, Spike. A lot. And you’ve stuck by me through it all.”
“It was the only place I wanted to be, pet.”
“Well, you’ve been there for me. Backed me up. Fought with me, next to me. Kept me going when I didn’t want to go anymore. I just wanted to say that it was noted. I just want to say thank you.”
He ducked his head, embarrassed. “Don’t want thanks, pet. Did it for you.”
She smiled up at him. “Come on. Let’s see if we have the stuff for hot chocolate. I need a cup tonight, don’t you? I think we even have those little marshmallows you like.”
He followed her into the house. Externally, he was playing it cool, just being the Big Bad like always. Inside, however, he was jumping for joy. He was the Slayer’s guy! She finally said it—or something like it.
She went directly to the kitchen and pulled milk out of the refrigerator, pouring it into a saucepan. He watched her add the cocoa, sugar, and vanilla, and then reached across her to sprinkle a touch of cinnamon into the mix.
“What did you do that for?”
“That was Joyce’s secret. You mean to tell me that all the times she made you cocoa, you never watched her? I did. Every time.”
Her eyes teared up, and she turned to stir the mixture in the pot. “I guess I was just too busy, most of the time. There were so many things that I never got to do with mom. I miss her so much.”
“I do too, pet.” He moved behind her, and put his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. “She was proud of you.”
“She was?”
“Worried, but proud. She made me promise….”
“My mom made you promise what?”
“To watch out for you. Keep you and Dawn safe. I seem to always be making promises to ladies, and having to keep them.”
“One of your fatal flaws.” She turned off the stove, and grabbed mugs and marshmallows out of the cabinet. “Here you go. One cup of Joyce’s love, just for you.”
He accepted the mug, and watched as she poured her own, leaving out the marshmallows. She looked at him over the rim of the mug, and her eyes sparkled. “Let’s go find something on TV.”
They went into the living room, sat together on the couch, and Buffy grabbed the remote, turning on the television set. She flipped through channels until she found a monster movie, then settled back against his shoulder, wiggling around until she was comfortable. They watched together in silence, finishing their drinks, until her head started to droop and eyes fluttered to stay open.
Spike stood, and picked her up easily, then carried her to her room. He set her down gently on the bed and kneeled in front of her, pulling her boots off and massaging her feet. Her head rolled on her shoulders, relaxation rippling through her as she tried so hard to stay awake, but fighting a losing battle.
He reached for her shirt, and pulled it over her head. “Spike—“
“Not doing anything, pet, except getting you out of those clothes and ready for bed. You would most likely just crawl in with your clothes on, and you won’t get any rest fighting the covers all night.” He reached into her dresser and grabbed the first thing that came to hand, her yummy sushi pajamas. She held up her arms gratefully, allowing him to dress her in her nightclothes.
She fell back on the bed, and he unzipped her pants, skimming them expertly down her legs, and then dragged her skimpy panties off as well. He drew the pajama bottoms up her legs, and couldn’t resist the temptation to plant a kiss on the light brown curls at the juncture of her thighs.
When his lips touched her, they both jumped into the air, tingling from the electric shock that jumped between them.
“What was that?” Buffy asked, wide awake now.
“Dunno, pet.” He brushed his hand over her arm, and nothing. He reached out to trace the upper curve of her breast and a shock jolted through him, electricity crackling in the air. “Bloody hell!”
“Ssh—keep your voice down. Shocked again?”
“Yeah, but this time it was only me.”
She reached out to test this new development. She touched his face, caressing his cheek, and felt a deep understanding of the man before her. She ran her hand down his chest, and stopped at his waist, her eyes fearful. She didn’t want to hurt either one of them, but if this was a part of that spell….
Boldly, she reached out and touched the bulge in his jeans, barely brushing the fabric, and was rewarded by a huge shock to her palm. He winced, the material protecting him from most of it, but it still sent a tingle through his cock.
“It’s that bloody spell, Buffy. Glinda’s spell. It’s got us too.”
She rolled her eyes. “She said it would last until Xander and Anya said ‘I do’. Spike, what are we going to do?”
He buried his face in his hands. “Dunno, Slayer. I guess we’ll have to make sure they get to the church on time.”
He walked her home after their last staking over at Restfield Cemetery.
“You really didn’t have to walk me home, Spike. You could have just hit the crypt for the night, relaxed.”
“I’d rather be with you,” he said, his voice quiet in the darkness. He couldn’t tell her that he already spent too many lonely hours there alone, waiting for her to come. He dare not say how much he would rather be with her. He would just let her fool herself into thinking that he walked her home because of the baddies, and leave it at that.
“Okay. So, are you coming in when you get me home, or are you just going to stand under my tree and watch my window until morning?”
He looked down at her, surprised that she knew his actions. She looked up at him, and said, “You know, I have a very sensitive nose. Cigarette smoke floats upward, then disappears. I can tell, every time you’re outside. That, and the number of butts I pick up in the yard the next day.”
“Oh. Buffy—“ he started.
“You could come in and see if we have a movie to watch, or if there’s one on TV. I always have to wind down a bit before I go to bed anyway, otherwise I don’t sleep.”
“That would be nice. Only if you’re okay with it.”
“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have asked.” She linked her arm with his. “Why don’t you push for a little more, Spike. You know I would give a little if you pushed a little. Not ready to pick out curtains, or anything, but, uh…you’re my guy.”
“I’m your guy?” He looked at her, shadows hiding her expression, but the intent clear in her voice. “I didn’t know….”
“After all we’ve been through? Yeah, I think I have the pleasure of saying that you’re my guy. We’ve been through a lot, Spike. A lot. And you’ve stuck by me through it all.”
“It was the only place I wanted to be, pet.”
“Well, you’ve been there for me. Backed me up. Fought with me, next to me. Kept me going when I didn’t want to go anymore. I just wanted to say that it was noted. I just want to say thank you.”
He ducked his head, embarrassed. “Don’t want thanks, pet. Did it for you.”
She smiled up at him. “Come on. Let’s see if we have the stuff for hot chocolate. I need a cup tonight, don’t you? I think we even have those little marshmallows you like.”
He followed her into the house. Externally, he was playing it cool, just being the Big Bad like always. Inside, however, he was jumping for joy. He was the Slayer’s guy! She finally said it—or something like it.
She went directly to the kitchen and pulled milk out of the refrigerator, pouring it into a saucepan. He watched her add the cocoa, sugar, and vanilla, and then reached across her to sprinkle a touch of cinnamon into the mix.
“What did you do that for?”
“That was Joyce’s secret. You mean to tell me that all the times she made you cocoa, you never watched her? I did. Every time.”
Her eyes teared up, and she turned to stir the mixture in the pot. “I guess I was just too busy, most of the time. There were so many things that I never got to do with mom. I miss her so much.”
“I do too, pet.” He moved behind her, and put his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. “She was proud of you.”
“She was?”
“Worried, but proud. She made me promise….”
“My mom made you promise what?”
“To watch out for you. Keep you and Dawn safe. I seem to always be making promises to ladies, and having to keep them.”
“One of your fatal flaws.” She turned off the stove, and grabbed mugs and marshmallows out of the cabinet. “Here you go. One cup of Joyce’s love, just for you.”
He accepted the mug, and watched as she poured her own, leaving out the marshmallows. She looked at him over the rim of the mug, and her eyes sparkled. “Let’s go find something on TV.”
They went into the living room, sat together on the couch, and Buffy grabbed the remote, turning on the television set. She flipped through channels until she found a monster movie, then settled back against his shoulder, wiggling around until she was comfortable. They watched together in silence, finishing their drinks, until her head started to droop and eyes fluttered to stay open.
Spike stood, and picked her up easily, then carried her to her room. He set her down gently on the bed and kneeled in front of her, pulling her boots off and massaging her feet. Her head rolled on her shoulders, relaxation rippling through her as she tried so hard to stay awake, but fighting a losing battle.
He reached for her shirt, and pulled it over her head. “Spike—“
“Not doing anything, pet, except getting you out of those clothes and ready for bed. You would most likely just crawl in with your clothes on, and you won’t get any rest fighting the covers all night.” He reached into her dresser and grabbed the first thing that came to hand, her yummy sushi pajamas. She held up her arms gratefully, allowing him to dress her in her nightclothes.
She fell back on the bed, and he unzipped her pants, skimming them expertly down her legs, and then dragged her skimpy panties off as well. He drew the pajama bottoms up her legs, and couldn’t resist the temptation to plant a kiss on the light brown curls at the juncture of her thighs.
When his lips touched her, they both jumped into the air, tingling from the electric shock that jumped between them.
“What was that?” Buffy asked, wide awake now.
“Dunno, pet.” He brushed his hand over her arm, and nothing. He reached out to trace the upper curve of her breast and a shock jolted through him, electricity crackling in the air. “Bloody hell!”
“Ssh—keep your voice down. Shocked again?”
“Yeah, but this time it was only me.”
She reached out to test this new development. She touched his face, caressing his cheek, and felt a deep understanding of the man before her. She ran her hand down his chest, and stopped at his waist, her eyes fearful. She didn’t want to hurt either one of them, but if this was a part of that spell….
Boldly, she reached out and touched the bulge in his jeans, barely brushing the fabric, and was rewarded by a huge shock to her palm. He winced, the material protecting him from most of it, but it still sent a tingle through his cock.
“It’s that bloody spell, Buffy. Glinda’s spell. It’s got us too.”
She rolled her eyes. “She said it would last until Xander and Anya said ‘I do’. Spike, what are we going to do?”
He buried his face in his hands. “Dunno, Slayer. I guess we’ll have to make sure they get to the church on time.”
Chapter 5
Wedding Bell Blues—Chapter 5
Three days passed. Three days, and they were already snarling at each other.
Xander looked over at Anya where she stood behind the cash register, and wondered for a moment what he ever saw in her. She worshipped money, she was inappropriate at the most embarrassing times, and she had weird looking feet. Not so weird they were ugly in sandals, but how many people have black hair growing on the soles of their feet? Not too many that weren’t demons before, he knew.
Buffy looked at the couple, knowing that her sex life depended on their vows, and patted Xander on the arm. “She gets prettier every day, Xan. You’re such a lucky guy.”
“Yeah, I’m the lucky one.” He sighed, and leaned back in his chair. “Buffy, do you ever think about getting married?”
She thought of Spike, spending her days and nights with him by her side, and a wistful longing shot through her. “Yeah, I do. I hope I get to, one day. But, Slayer here, and they don’t make it to the chapel very often, I don’t think.”
“Not at all, usually. Actually, Buffy, you are the longest-lived Slayer in Council history.” Giles leaned against the table, book in hand, looking the same as he did years before in the library.
“Yeah, longest lived, except for those two pesky deaths I had.” Buffy rolled her eyes. “I want to do normal stuff someday, Giles. Get married. Have a house of my own. You know, the usual?”
“Well, Buffster, you do have a house of your own now, remember? You live in it?”
“Yeah. But it isn’t mine. It’s my mom’s. It will always be hers, no matter how long she’s gone.” She leaned her head on her fist, tears threatening again. “I miss her so much right now.”
“That’s understandable, Buffy. Wasn’t it approximately a year ago that she passed away?”
She looked at the date on the calendar, and saw that it was a year today. Guilt overwhelmed her, and tears did roll then—to think that she could forget the day her mother died. The day she had to grow up, and stop being a spoiled brat.
Her heart ached. She heard the sounds of her friends around her, but a white noise filled her ears and the sound of her blood pounding. Her mother’s blood would never pour through her veins again, never again….
She felt it pull on her, the need for him, and she got up and ran, ran all the way across town, dodging people and traffic to Restfield, to his crypt, throwing herself through the door in desperation, needing him. He jumped out of the chair when she stopped in front of him, panting for air and tears streaming down her face, and wordlessly took her into his arms.
She cried, her whole body shaking with the force of her sobs, until her knees gave way and he caught her up in the safety of his embrace, stepping back and sitting down to gather her into his arms, cradling her entire body and letting her break apart.
Break she did. She crumbled, her heart breaking as she thought of her mom and the life she’d had, what little Buffy had hung around for. She clung to him, her physical lifeline, as her mind splintered around her mother’s absence. He rocked her, humming tunelessly, smoothing her hair with his hand.
His heart burned for her, ached for her. He had lost his mother over a century ago, but the memory of grief echoed inside him. He had liked Joyce. She was a fine lady, in all senses of the word. He knew Buffy needed this, to allow her grief an outlet, and it honored him that she would come to him, need him to comfort and protect her while her guard was down.
“She liked you, you know.”
Buffy’s words were muffled, but he still picked up on them. “I did. I liked her. She was a right fine lady, rivaled the Queen. Never a question that she wouldn’t protect you, if she thought you were in trouble. Helped me enough.”
“If there was only something I could have done. To save her.”
He looked down, questioning his motive in telling her, but sensed she needed to hear it nonetheless. “She asked me to turn her. When she first got sick. I wouldn’t.”
Buffy looked up at him, eyes wide. “Why? Why did she want to be a vampire?”
“So she could stay with her girls. I told ‘er…well, I couldn’t. I don’t want to sire anyone. Don’t want to feed on humans any more. Didn’t then. I told her that she wouldn’t survive, and the demon would probably come and try to kill you because of being the Slayer, and she thanked me. Thanked me for my honesty. I felt like I condemned her. I still do.”
“I don’t know whether to be mad at you, or kiss you.”
“You can do both. I’ve seen it.”
And she found she could, because she was on his lap, his cock growing against her ass, and pressed to his chest, his face so close all she had to do was reach a little…. She touched her mouth to his, whispering against his lips. “Thank you for not turning my mother. I miss her, but I wouldn’t have wanted to stake her. I don’t know if I could’ve.”
“Welcome, pet,” he murmured against her mouth. “Love you too much to hurt you like that.”
“I know.” She silenced him then, not wanting to hear or say more. She parted her lips, and let him in, tasting him, so familiar, so loved. Her heart skipped, and he pulled away from her, concern in his eyes.
“I felt your heart skip some beats. Do you feel okay?”
“I’m fine, Spike. Shouldn’t you be pleased that you make my heart skip a beat?”
“I suppose.” He suffered her adjusting herself in his lap to a more comfortable position, which just happened to be squarely pressing her heat against his cock. He groaned, and buried his face in her hair.
“God, Buffy, how are we going to make it to this wedding? I’m tired of getting shocked every time I touch you with any kind of passion, and snogging’s great and all, but I need you.”
She snuggled against him, torturing both of them. “I know. I’m starting to have these really erotic dreams, and when I wake up, it’s worse. Xander and Anya are really snarky these days, and even Tara’s homicidal, and she wasn’t dating anyone. I don’t know—maybe Giles had the wrong idea this time. I don’t think this was just a harmless spell. I think it—changed us. All of us.”
She stood, and started pacing. “I mean, look at us. We’re all overly emotional. I had to leave the Magic Box, because they were all starting to cry because I was crying. Anya was wiping her face with the money to try to feel better, that’s how bad it was. Willow and Xander were holding each other, crying about some yellow crayon bull. And Tara—she was dusting the shelves, crying.”
“I’ve found myself getting a bit misty here the past couple o’ days.”
“And then me, today, just now. I am so not like that. To completely collapse?”
“Pet, you needed to. You really never did grieve for your mum. There was too much going on, with Glory and all, and then, well, you know what happened then.”
“Yeah, I know.” She turned to him, twisting her hands. “I know that Anya doesn’t want Xander to know about the spell, but we need to research what effects it could have had on us with the spells in the workroom.”
“You know that ‘m a doer, pet, not a researcher.”
“I’ll put Anya and Tara on it. They’re the ones that got us into this mess in the first place, they can figure it out.”
Three days passed. Three days, and they were already snarling at each other.
Xander looked over at Anya where she stood behind the cash register, and wondered for a moment what he ever saw in her. She worshipped money, she was inappropriate at the most embarrassing times, and she had weird looking feet. Not so weird they were ugly in sandals, but how many people have black hair growing on the soles of their feet? Not too many that weren’t demons before, he knew.
Buffy looked at the couple, knowing that her sex life depended on their vows, and patted Xander on the arm. “She gets prettier every day, Xan. You’re such a lucky guy.”
“Yeah, I’m the lucky one.” He sighed, and leaned back in his chair. “Buffy, do you ever think about getting married?”
She thought of Spike, spending her days and nights with him by her side, and a wistful longing shot through her. “Yeah, I do. I hope I get to, one day. But, Slayer here, and they don’t make it to the chapel very often, I don’t think.”
“Not at all, usually. Actually, Buffy, you are the longest-lived Slayer in Council history.” Giles leaned against the table, book in hand, looking the same as he did years before in the library.
“Yeah, longest lived, except for those two pesky deaths I had.” Buffy rolled her eyes. “I want to do normal stuff someday, Giles. Get married. Have a house of my own. You know, the usual?”
“Well, Buffster, you do have a house of your own now, remember? You live in it?”
“Yeah. But it isn’t mine. It’s my mom’s. It will always be hers, no matter how long she’s gone.” She leaned her head on her fist, tears threatening again. “I miss her so much right now.”
“That’s understandable, Buffy. Wasn’t it approximately a year ago that she passed away?”
She looked at the date on the calendar, and saw that it was a year today. Guilt overwhelmed her, and tears did roll then—to think that she could forget the day her mother died. The day she had to grow up, and stop being a spoiled brat.
Her heart ached. She heard the sounds of her friends around her, but a white noise filled her ears and the sound of her blood pounding. Her mother’s blood would never pour through her veins again, never again….
She felt it pull on her, the need for him, and she got up and ran, ran all the way across town, dodging people and traffic to Restfield, to his crypt, throwing herself through the door in desperation, needing him. He jumped out of the chair when she stopped in front of him, panting for air and tears streaming down her face, and wordlessly took her into his arms.
She cried, her whole body shaking with the force of her sobs, until her knees gave way and he caught her up in the safety of his embrace, stepping back and sitting down to gather her into his arms, cradling her entire body and letting her break apart.
Break she did. She crumbled, her heart breaking as she thought of her mom and the life she’d had, what little Buffy had hung around for. She clung to him, her physical lifeline, as her mind splintered around her mother’s absence. He rocked her, humming tunelessly, smoothing her hair with his hand.
His heart burned for her, ached for her. He had lost his mother over a century ago, but the memory of grief echoed inside him. He had liked Joyce. She was a fine lady, in all senses of the word. He knew Buffy needed this, to allow her grief an outlet, and it honored him that she would come to him, need him to comfort and protect her while her guard was down.
“She liked you, you know.”
Buffy’s words were muffled, but he still picked up on them. “I did. I liked her. She was a right fine lady, rivaled the Queen. Never a question that she wouldn’t protect you, if she thought you were in trouble. Helped me enough.”
“If there was only something I could have done. To save her.”
He looked down, questioning his motive in telling her, but sensed she needed to hear it nonetheless. “She asked me to turn her. When she first got sick. I wouldn’t.”
Buffy looked up at him, eyes wide. “Why? Why did she want to be a vampire?”
“So she could stay with her girls. I told ‘er…well, I couldn’t. I don’t want to sire anyone. Don’t want to feed on humans any more. Didn’t then. I told her that she wouldn’t survive, and the demon would probably come and try to kill you because of being the Slayer, and she thanked me. Thanked me for my honesty. I felt like I condemned her. I still do.”
“I don’t know whether to be mad at you, or kiss you.”
“You can do both. I’ve seen it.”
And she found she could, because she was on his lap, his cock growing against her ass, and pressed to his chest, his face so close all she had to do was reach a little…. She touched her mouth to his, whispering against his lips. “Thank you for not turning my mother. I miss her, but I wouldn’t have wanted to stake her. I don’t know if I could’ve.”
“Welcome, pet,” he murmured against her mouth. “Love you too much to hurt you like that.”
“I know.” She silenced him then, not wanting to hear or say more. She parted her lips, and let him in, tasting him, so familiar, so loved. Her heart skipped, and he pulled away from her, concern in his eyes.
“I felt your heart skip some beats. Do you feel okay?”
“I’m fine, Spike. Shouldn’t you be pleased that you make my heart skip a beat?”
“I suppose.” He suffered her adjusting herself in his lap to a more comfortable position, which just happened to be squarely pressing her heat against his cock. He groaned, and buried his face in her hair.
“God, Buffy, how are we going to make it to this wedding? I’m tired of getting shocked every time I touch you with any kind of passion, and snogging’s great and all, but I need you.”
She snuggled against him, torturing both of them. “I know. I’m starting to have these really erotic dreams, and when I wake up, it’s worse. Xander and Anya are really snarky these days, and even Tara’s homicidal, and she wasn’t dating anyone. I don’t know—maybe Giles had the wrong idea this time. I don’t think this was just a harmless spell. I think it—changed us. All of us.”
She stood, and started pacing. “I mean, look at us. We’re all overly emotional. I had to leave the Magic Box, because they were all starting to cry because I was crying. Anya was wiping her face with the money to try to feel better, that’s how bad it was. Willow and Xander were holding each other, crying about some yellow crayon bull. And Tara—she was dusting the shelves, crying.”
“I’ve found myself getting a bit misty here the past couple o’ days.”
“And then me, today, just now. I am so not like that. To completely collapse?”
“Pet, you needed to. You really never did grieve for your mum. There was too much going on, with Glory and all, and then, well, you know what happened then.”
“Yeah, I know.” She turned to him, twisting her hands. “I know that Anya doesn’t want Xander to know about the spell, but we need to research what effects it could have had on us with the spells in the workroom.”
“You know that ‘m a doer, pet, not a researcher.”
“I’ll put Anya and Tara on it. They’re the ones that got us into this mess in the first place, they can figure it out.”
Chapter 6
Wedding Bell Blues—Chapter 6
A/N: This chapter is most definitely NC-17—for those who have been waiting patiently, here is the smut…enjoy!
Buffy cornered Tara and Anya in the shop before closing time.
“You guys did this—you need to figure out what’s up with this spell.”
“Has it had some…unforeseen side effects, Buffy?” Tara asked, curious about the effects the spell had on Buffy and Spike. Buffy pulled her to the side, and lowered her voice.
“You mean, between me and Spike? Other than the extreme emotionalism, the incredible impulses to expound on our love, and the tearing feeling when we’re apart? No, none that I know of. Tara, something funky is going down in the city. Every one of us has been in a blue mood, and the angst has been pretty thick around here lately. Don’t you think that this needs to be investigated?”
Anya watched them closely, then spoke loudly. “I hope that this hasn’t interfered with your and Spike’s orgasms too, Buffy. I know they mean a lot to you.”
Both girls turned to Anya, stunned. “What? What are you talking about, Anya?” Buffy asked.
“You and Spike. I’m very perceptive, you know. I know that you have been dating, and having many fantastic orgasms. I hope that when you got caught in the backlash, it didn’t affect you both like it did me and Xander.”
“Anya, how did you know?” Tara whispered.
“Oh, anyone with eyes can tell. Except the rest of our little gang. They’re blind to most everything about you, Buffy, except for the Slayer gig.”
“And you know so much because….” Buffy said, crossing her arms across her chest.
“Hello, ex-demon here. I have some powers left. Like sensing when couples are having trouble. Not to mention, you two are the talk of the demon community, the Slayer and the vampire that fights his own kind. All kinds of gossip, if you only know the right people.”
“How long have you known, Anya?”
“Oh, since you worked in the shop. I guess you played poker with him that evening….”
“He played poker. I got drunk.”
Anya leaned forward, bracing her chin on her hands. “Please, do tell. Details, please.”
“I am so not telling you mine and Spike’s bedroom secrets.”
“Is he well-endowed? Does he make you have many multiple orgasms? I have heard about vampire’s unbelievable stamina, is it true?”
“Tara, make her stop. I am not answering those questions, or any others, Anya.” She started to the door of the shop, ignoring the girl’s pout, and paused before leaving. “Get started on the researchy bit—if you don’t have me some answers soon, I’m going to have to tell Xander and Willow what you two got us into.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Buffy went back to the crypt, depression written clearly across her features, in the set of her shoulders. Spike looked across the crypt at her, worry furrowing his brow, and she waved him away. “Don’t look at me, don’t touch me, don’t make it any worse than what it already is. If a woman can get blue balls, I’ve got them. I can’t stop thinking about sex. I’m almost as bad as a man.”
“Huh? What are you talking about, pet? As bad as a man?”
“Men think of sex once every five seconds. I’ve managed to stretch it to seven. My p—my body it throbbing so hard I can barely walk. The pressure from my jeans is driving me insane, I feel like I just want to hump the nearest—anything. I have washed up and changed my panties four times already today. And it’s not even four o’clock yet. How am I gonna make it four more days?”
Spike looked down at his dejected Slayer, an evil grin splitting his face. “There are ways to take care of that, pet. Ways that won’t get us a little shock.”
She looked up at him confused. “We only get a jolt if we touch each other. I’ve not been jolted when I’ve touched myself.”
“You’ve been masturbating?” She rolled her eyes. “I haven’t resorted to that yet.”
“No? What about riding the seam of those jeans, pet? Think that’s not self abuse?”
She blushed, unaware that he’d noticed that. “I notice everything you do, pet,” he said, reading her mind.
“So, what are you thinking? We…masturbate in front of each other?”
“That’s the idea, pet. You want a go?”
Her breath quickened, and heart pounded, the thought of his perfect body, nude and glistening, his hand stroking the cause of some of her greatest pleasures…. She shivered and licked her lips, drawing his attention to her mouth. “I—I don’t want to get shocked again, honey. It hurts.”
“I know, pet. Hurt me too. This…didn’t hurt when I did it, after you left. If we did it together…it might…well, I don’t think that it would hurt. And it would relieve some tension…which would be good for both of us.”
“O-okay.” She licked her lips again, suddenly nervous at the ideas the suggestion was putting in her head. “What do we do then, Spike?”
Bollix. He didn’t know…on the spur of the moment, he sat a chair in front of his comfortable chair, several feet between them. He took his overshirt off, draping it over the seat, and stripped his tee shirt, muscles rippling in the dim light in the room.
She caught her breath in her throat, and her hand stroked against her nipple through the thin material of her shirt and camisole. He saw her move, watched her touching herself, and growled deep in his throat. “That would feel better, I’m sure, if you were undressed, love.” She moved her hands slowly to her buttons, and started unbuttoning them at a maddening pace.
She was hypnotic as she moved, her fingers fumbling with buttons long familiar to her, finally giving up and ripping the shirt open, buttons flying like bullets through the crypt. He barely registered one as it whinged by his ear, he was so intent on the vision before him. Her nipples, already erect, showed clearly through the thin camisole she wore, dusky pink and straining the fabric.
She removed her outer shirt and pulled the camisole over her head, anxious to feel skin on skin, even if it was her own. She cupped her breasts in both her hands, nipples brushing her palms, and she moaned as he stood there before her, hips jutting and shoulders slouched, staring right back at her.
She moaned at the sight and the sensation, and he moved toward her. She put her hand out in front of her, warding him off. “No. No shocky. Can’t take it, not now.”
He backed away shakily, then sat down on the hard chair, jeans straining at the bulge growing inside them. He ran shaky hands through his hair, and said, “Buffy, I don’t think that I can—“
“You damn well can. I am. It feels better than…God, Spike, I need to come. So bad….” Words escaped her as she trailed her hand over her skin, back and forth across her stomach, up over one breast, then across to pinch the nipple of the other breast.
Spike forgot the familiar in and out of breathing. He forgot to think. His mind was centered on the sight in front of him, and all else was gone. He watched her tiny hands tracing patterns over her most sensitive spots, then looked up to her face and saw the shy smile ghosting her mouth. “Come on, Big Bad, you gonna strip down for me? Do your sexy dance?”
“Don’t have a sexy dance.”
“You may be the big bad, but I know you have a sexy dance. Everyone has a sexy dance.”
He yanked his pants open, and his cock burst out of his fly. “Don’t need a sexy dance.”
She pouted. “Okay, so hold back, that’s okay. You can do your sexy dance for me tomorrow. Just, please…touch yourself. Touch that beautiful cock for me.”
He gripped himself, ran his hand over the length of him. She licked her lips again, mouth suddenly dry, and watched him pump himself mindlessly for a moment, then he sat on the edge of the chair, leaning back to relax and enjoy the show.
She skimmed her hands down her stomach, and slid her fingertips into the waistband of her low cut jeans. He could hear her nails rasping over her flesh, the crisp sound of curls disturbed by her movements. Saliva pooled in his mouth as he remembered her taste. She had the most delicate flavor, like fine wine on his tongue. He watched her and ran his tongue over his teeth, realizing that though he couldn’t taste her, he could still smell the tantalizing perfume that was Buffy aroused.
His hand glided over his skin, the head taking on a pearly pink hue as blood rushed to fill it, harden it to mythical proportions. Buffy licked her lips, remembering its velvety goodness against her mouth, how lusciously cool it felt between her lips, soothing her throat, and her mouth watered, needing it.
She pouted. “This is making it worse. All I want is to do nasty, horribly dirty things with my vampire.”
“Really, you don’t say? We needed a spell like this, then. And speak for yourself. I like what we’re doing. I think you like it too. Otherwise, would you be flooding your knickers with your juices there?”
Her cheeks flushed, and she looked up at him defiantly. “And you’re hard because…?”
“Because I can smell you and taste you on my tongue—you’re half-naked in front of me, and you know how I love your body, every inch—and I bloody well love you, you silly bint!” He stroked himself harder as he spoke, his fist moving almost faster than she could see.
“Oh, Spike—I had no idea. I didn’t know you liked my tits so much.” She cupped her breasts like an offering, and looked at them critically. “Which one do you like better? The right or the left?”
“They’re both bleedin’ perfect, Buffy.”
“I think I like the left one better.” She bent her head, and swirled her tongue around her left nipple. He let his breath out in a huff, amazed at the minx. She twisted her right nipple between her thumb and forefinger, and smiled up at him. “Don’t you wish you could touch them, Spike?”
“Yes—ugh, Buffy, yes. Beautiful breasts. Luscious nibblets.” He closed his eyes for a moment, memory undoing him.
“Oh, no, Spike. You started this game, you finish it.” She waited until he opened his eyes, and unzipped her jeans, hooking her fingers in them and dragging them off her rounded ass. “Now, what about here? What do you like about my—what is it you call it? My quim. My pussy. My cunny. Do you like it, Spike? Do you crave it?” She parted her knees, and saw her curls, then her hand covered it protectively and she said, “Will you always treat it right, Spike? Will you always love it, touch it, taste it, fuck it?”
“Oh, fuck, Buffy, until I’m dust. You’re beautiful, pet.”
She dipped a finger into her glistening slit and brought it to her mouth. “Hmm—wish you could taste me.” She sucked the finger into his mouth, and he growled, his hand still flying. She licked her finger clean, then reached down to spread the outer labia, exposing the sweetness inside. Her whole quim open to his view, he memorized every fold, every detail as he drank his fill with his eyes.
She started stroking herself, one finger traveling from clit to vagina and back again, slicking herself up with her essence. He was gasping for breath while she stroked her clit, eyes wide open and watching him, and then she started talking and his world began to spin.
“Oh, Spike, don’t you wish you were doing this for me? Touching me. Making me moan your name. Making me beg you to fuck me. It feels good, baby, when you fuck me. Make me beg for more. Beg to come.”
He was close, she could tell. She also knew that he was holding back, waiting for her. She thought of the possibility of getting caught, and that sent a shrill shock of pleasure through her—the thought of the gang finding her here, masturbating in front of Spike. She frantically plunged three fingers inside her, bending them to reach that sweet spot that Spike had found, and twisted her clit between her fingers with the other hand. Throwing her head back, she panted, “Spike…lover…need to come…come…with…me….”
“With you, love.” He watched her eyes glaze as her breathing turned to shrieking, her words unintelligible but their meaning clear—he had heard them many times before. He tightened his fist, and his cock began to spasm in his hand, jetting creamy fluid across the floor between them.
Buffy lay spread-eagle in the chair, too exhausted to dress herself. She had ruined her shirt, and was going to have to raid Spike’s closet for something to wear anyway. Spike sat watching her, and she finally mustered the strength to roll her eyes toward him. “What?”
“Just—you know, pet, you’re bloody amazing. You always surprise me, do you know that?”
“Thanks—I think.” She stood, and pulled up her jeans.
“So, why are you going commando now, pet? Not something I thought you would fancy.”
“Just trying to save on detergent. I—got all my panties wet. See, that’s another reason to get rid of this stupid spell! Laundry and…and…having to wank off in front of each other.”
She heard a rumbling noise begin across the room, and looked up to find Spike—laughing. His nose crinkled, his eyes merrily bright, he was laughing at her frustration! Stupid vampire, she thought. “And what is so funny?”
“Well, if you’d just give up the darn things, then you’d save money for them anyway, because I always seem to tear them off of you.”
She sat back down, and pulled her camisole on. “I know. I just like the frillies. I like feeling like a girl.”
He stood and tucked himself away, then sauntered over to her. “I do too. Like you feeling like a girl, that is.” He bent down to kiss the side of her neck, which was safe, they’d discovered, as long as they weren’t pressed together. “Love you, pet.”
“I hope those girls have made some headway with the research, because I’m to the point of talking them into eloping.”
Spike looked down at her, an idea forming in his head. “That could be our answer, pet. Eloping.”
“Who, us?”
“No. Xander and Anya.”
A/N: This chapter is most definitely NC-17—for those who have been waiting patiently, here is the smut…enjoy!
Buffy cornered Tara and Anya in the shop before closing time.
“You guys did this—you need to figure out what’s up with this spell.”
“Has it had some…unforeseen side effects, Buffy?” Tara asked, curious about the effects the spell had on Buffy and Spike. Buffy pulled her to the side, and lowered her voice.
“You mean, between me and Spike? Other than the extreme emotionalism, the incredible impulses to expound on our love, and the tearing feeling when we’re apart? No, none that I know of. Tara, something funky is going down in the city. Every one of us has been in a blue mood, and the angst has been pretty thick around here lately. Don’t you think that this needs to be investigated?”
Anya watched them closely, then spoke loudly. “I hope that this hasn’t interfered with your and Spike’s orgasms too, Buffy. I know they mean a lot to you.”
Both girls turned to Anya, stunned. “What? What are you talking about, Anya?” Buffy asked.
“You and Spike. I’m very perceptive, you know. I know that you have been dating, and having many fantastic orgasms. I hope that when you got caught in the backlash, it didn’t affect you both like it did me and Xander.”
“Anya, how did you know?” Tara whispered.
“Oh, anyone with eyes can tell. Except the rest of our little gang. They’re blind to most everything about you, Buffy, except for the Slayer gig.”
“And you know so much because….” Buffy said, crossing her arms across her chest.
“Hello, ex-demon here. I have some powers left. Like sensing when couples are having trouble. Not to mention, you two are the talk of the demon community, the Slayer and the vampire that fights his own kind. All kinds of gossip, if you only know the right people.”
“How long have you known, Anya?”
“Oh, since you worked in the shop. I guess you played poker with him that evening….”
“He played poker. I got drunk.”
Anya leaned forward, bracing her chin on her hands. “Please, do tell. Details, please.”
“I am so not telling you mine and Spike’s bedroom secrets.”
“Is he well-endowed? Does he make you have many multiple orgasms? I have heard about vampire’s unbelievable stamina, is it true?”
“Tara, make her stop. I am not answering those questions, or any others, Anya.” She started to the door of the shop, ignoring the girl’s pout, and paused before leaving. “Get started on the researchy bit—if you don’t have me some answers soon, I’m going to have to tell Xander and Willow what you two got us into.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Buffy went back to the crypt, depression written clearly across her features, in the set of her shoulders. Spike looked across the crypt at her, worry furrowing his brow, and she waved him away. “Don’t look at me, don’t touch me, don’t make it any worse than what it already is. If a woman can get blue balls, I’ve got them. I can’t stop thinking about sex. I’m almost as bad as a man.”
“Huh? What are you talking about, pet? As bad as a man?”
“Men think of sex once every five seconds. I’ve managed to stretch it to seven. My p—my body it throbbing so hard I can barely walk. The pressure from my jeans is driving me insane, I feel like I just want to hump the nearest—anything. I have washed up and changed my panties four times already today. And it’s not even four o’clock yet. How am I gonna make it four more days?”
Spike looked down at his dejected Slayer, an evil grin splitting his face. “There are ways to take care of that, pet. Ways that won’t get us a little shock.”
She looked up at him confused. “We only get a jolt if we touch each other. I’ve not been jolted when I’ve touched myself.”
“You’ve been masturbating?” She rolled her eyes. “I haven’t resorted to that yet.”
“No? What about riding the seam of those jeans, pet? Think that’s not self abuse?”
She blushed, unaware that he’d noticed that. “I notice everything you do, pet,” he said, reading her mind.
“So, what are you thinking? We…masturbate in front of each other?”
“That’s the idea, pet. You want a go?”
Her breath quickened, and heart pounded, the thought of his perfect body, nude and glistening, his hand stroking the cause of some of her greatest pleasures…. She shivered and licked her lips, drawing his attention to her mouth. “I—I don’t want to get shocked again, honey. It hurts.”
“I know, pet. Hurt me too. This…didn’t hurt when I did it, after you left. If we did it together…it might…well, I don’t think that it would hurt. And it would relieve some tension…which would be good for both of us.”
“O-okay.” She licked her lips again, suddenly nervous at the ideas the suggestion was putting in her head. “What do we do then, Spike?”
Bollix. He didn’t know…on the spur of the moment, he sat a chair in front of his comfortable chair, several feet between them. He took his overshirt off, draping it over the seat, and stripped his tee shirt, muscles rippling in the dim light in the room.
She caught her breath in her throat, and her hand stroked against her nipple through the thin material of her shirt and camisole. He saw her move, watched her touching herself, and growled deep in his throat. “That would feel better, I’m sure, if you were undressed, love.” She moved her hands slowly to her buttons, and started unbuttoning them at a maddening pace.
She was hypnotic as she moved, her fingers fumbling with buttons long familiar to her, finally giving up and ripping the shirt open, buttons flying like bullets through the crypt. He barely registered one as it whinged by his ear, he was so intent on the vision before him. Her nipples, already erect, showed clearly through the thin camisole she wore, dusky pink and straining the fabric.
She removed her outer shirt and pulled the camisole over her head, anxious to feel skin on skin, even if it was her own. She cupped her breasts in both her hands, nipples brushing her palms, and she moaned as he stood there before her, hips jutting and shoulders slouched, staring right back at her.
She moaned at the sight and the sensation, and he moved toward her. She put her hand out in front of her, warding him off. “No. No shocky. Can’t take it, not now.”
He backed away shakily, then sat down on the hard chair, jeans straining at the bulge growing inside them. He ran shaky hands through his hair, and said, “Buffy, I don’t think that I can—“
“You damn well can. I am. It feels better than…God, Spike, I need to come. So bad….” Words escaped her as she trailed her hand over her skin, back and forth across her stomach, up over one breast, then across to pinch the nipple of the other breast.
Spike forgot the familiar in and out of breathing. He forgot to think. His mind was centered on the sight in front of him, and all else was gone. He watched her tiny hands tracing patterns over her most sensitive spots, then looked up to her face and saw the shy smile ghosting her mouth. “Come on, Big Bad, you gonna strip down for me? Do your sexy dance?”
“Don’t have a sexy dance.”
“You may be the big bad, but I know you have a sexy dance. Everyone has a sexy dance.”
He yanked his pants open, and his cock burst out of his fly. “Don’t need a sexy dance.”
She pouted. “Okay, so hold back, that’s okay. You can do your sexy dance for me tomorrow. Just, please…touch yourself. Touch that beautiful cock for me.”
He gripped himself, ran his hand over the length of him. She licked her lips again, mouth suddenly dry, and watched him pump himself mindlessly for a moment, then he sat on the edge of the chair, leaning back to relax and enjoy the show.
She skimmed her hands down her stomach, and slid her fingertips into the waistband of her low cut jeans. He could hear her nails rasping over her flesh, the crisp sound of curls disturbed by her movements. Saliva pooled in his mouth as he remembered her taste. She had the most delicate flavor, like fine wine on his tongue. He watched her and ran his tongue over his teeth, realizing that though he couldn’t taste her, he could still smell the tantalizing perfume that was Buffy aroused.
His hand glided over his skin, the head taking on a pearly pink hue as blood rushed to fill it, harden it to mythical proportions. Buffy licked her lips, remembering its velvety goodness against her mouth, how lusciously cool it felt between her lips, soothing her throat, and her mouth watered, needing it.
She pouted. “This is making it worse. All I want is to do nasty, horribly dirty things with my vampire.”
“Really, you don’t say? We needed a spell like this, then. And speak for yourself. I like what we’re doing. I think you like it too. Otherwise, would you be flooding your knickers with your juices there?”
Her cheeks flushed, and she looked up at him defiantly. “And you’re hard because…?”
“Because I can smell you and taste you on my tongue—you’re half-naked in front of me, and you know how I love your body, every inch—and I bloody well love you, you silly bint!” He stroked himself harder as he spoke, his fist moving almost faster than she could see.
“Oh, Spike—I had no idea. I didn’t know you liked my tits so much.” She cupped her breasts like an offering, and looked at them critically. “Which one do you like better? The right or the left?”
“They’re both bleedin’ perfect, Buffy.”
“I think I like the left one better.” She bent her head, and swirled her tongue around her left nipple. He let his breath out in a huff, amazed at the minx. She twisted her right nipple between her thumb and forefinger, and smiled up at him. “Don’t you wish you could touch them, Spike?”
“Yes—ugh, Buffy, yes. Beautiful breasts. Luscious nibblets.” He closed his eyes for a moment, memory undoing him.
“Oh, no, Spike. You started this game, you finish it.” She waited until he opened his eyes, and unzipped her jeans, hooking her fingers in them and dragging them off her rounded ass. “Now, what about here? What do you like about my—what is it you call it? My quim. My pussy. My cunny. Do you like it, Spike? Do you crave it?” She parted her knees, and saw her curls, then her hand covered it protectively and she said, “Will you always treat it right, Spike? Will you always love it, touch it, taste it, fuck it?”
“Oh, fuck, Buffy, until I’m dust. You’re beautiful, pet.”
She dipped a finger into her glistening slit and brought it to her mouth. “Hmm—wish you could taste me.” She sucked the finger into his mouth, and he growled, his hand still flying. She licked her finger clean, then reached down to spread the outer labia, exposing the sweetness inside. Her whole quim open to his view, he memorized every fold, every detail as he drank his fill with his eyes.
She started stroking herself, one finger traveling from clit to vagina and back again, slicking herself up with her essence. He was gasping for breath while she stroked her clit, eyes wide open and watching him, and then she started talking and his world began to spin.
“Oh, Spike, don’t you wish you were doing this for me? Touching me. Making me moan your name. Making me beg you to fuck me. It feels good, baby, when you fuck me. Make me beg for more. Beg to come.”
He was close, she could tell. She also knew that he was holding back, waiting for her. She thought of the possibility of getting caught, and that sent a shrill shock of pleasure through her—the thought of the gang finding her here, masturbating in front of Spike. She frantically plunged three fingers inside her, bending them to reach that sweet spot that Spike had found, and twisted her clit between her fingers with the other hand. Throwing her head back, she panted, “Spike…lover…need to come…come…with…me….”
“With you, love.” He watched her eyes glaze as her breathing turned to shrieking, her words unintelligible but their meaning clear—he had heard them many times before. He tightened his fist, and his cock began to spasm in his hand, jetting creamy fluid across the floor between them.
Buffy lay spread-eagle in the chair, too exhausted to dress herself. She had ruined her shirt, and was going to have to raid Spike’s closet for something to wear anyway. Spike sat watching her, and she finally mustered the strength to roll her eyes toward him. “What?”
“Just—you know, pet, you’re bloody amazing. You always surprise me, do you know that?”
“Thanks—I think.” She stood, and pulled up her jeans.
“So, why are you going commando now, pet? Not something I thought you would fancy.”
“Just trying to save on detergent. I—got all my panties wet. See, that’s another reason to get rid of this stupid spell! Laundry and…and…having to wank off in front of each other.”
She heard a rumbling noise begin across the room, and looked up to find Spike—laughing. His nose crinkled, his eyes merrily bright, he was laughing at her frustration! Stupid vampire, she thought. “And what is so funny?”
“Well, if you’d just give up the darn things, then you’d save money for them anyway, because I always seem to tear them off of you.”
She sat back down, and pulled her camisole on. “I know. I just like the frillies. I like feeling like a girl.”
He stood and tucked himself away, then sauntered over to her. “I do too. Like you feeling like a girl, that is.” He bent down to kiss the side of her neck, which was safe, they’d discovered, as long as they weren’t pressed together. “Love you, pet.”
“I hope those girls have made some headway with the research, because I’m to the point of talking them into eloping.”
Spike looked down at her, an idea forming in his head. “That could be our answer, pet. Eloping.”
“Who, us?”
“No. Xander and Anya.”
Chapter 7
Wedding Bell Blues—Chapter 7
Spike knew that he and Xander weren’t the best of buddies, but he had to make the effort. Had to, for him and for Buffy. He strolled up the walk to the Whelp’s apartment, beer snugged under his arm and munchies in his hand, and prepared himself for the worst.
The worst was exactly what he got. Xander opened the apartment door, a look of dread on his face, and the look melted into relief at the peroxide blonde framed in the doorway.
“Spike! Thank God it’s you and not Anya. Come in.”
Spike was almost touched that the boy decided to invite him in, then started to worry when Xander went into his room, turning his back on the vampire. That was never a good sign.
“Spike, I need your help. I need to get outta town, as quickly as possible.”
Spike watched his sex life circling the drain, ready to go down, and grabbed Xander’s arm. He could see by the mess the Whelp was serious. Clothes were thrown helter skelter around the living room, some better clothes draped over the dining room chairs, and personal belongings of all kinds tossed into boxes. A giant crayon leaned against the wall, and hardhat and steel-toed boots toppled haphazardly at the bottom.
“What are you doin’, you brainless berk?”
The ice in Spike’s tone stopped Xander in his tracks. “What does it look like I’m doing, Evil Dead? I’m leaving.”
“Leaving? Why?”
“You must have missed the memo. I’m supposed to get married in a few days….”
“Yes, I know. I got my invite a month ago. As did everyone else. So you leaving fits in…where?”
“I can’t do it, Spike.” Xander sat down, and buried his face in his hands. “I can’t marry Ahn. She’s wonderful, she’s beautiful, she’s…well, she’s everything I could ever want. But she’s a demon. How could I ever even think of marrying a demon? She….”
“Wait a minute. You’re running out on the wedding?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. I can’t go through with it. I can’t marry her.”
Spike grabbed for the only straw left. “Why does that make a difference now? It didn’t make a piss difference when you were shagging all the time. Now you decide you can’t marry the bloody bint? What kind of a man are you, Harris?”
“I know. I feel terrible. Just awful.”
“There’s more to it than that, Harris. What happened that you don’t think you can marry Anya? When did the whole demon thing become an issue?”
“I…I…Spike…she’s a demon. She could disembowel me with a word….”
“Sorry to burst your bubble, but she’s not a demon, she’s an ex-demon. Totally different, Xander. She’s as human as you are and I was, once.”
“Then why does she grow black hair on the bottoms of her feet?”
“Oh, so Anya’s got the hairy toes, and that makes you want to jump ship? This is bloody rich!”
Xander looked more than annoyed at the blond vampire that was nearly hysterically laughing. “Why is that so funny?”
“If…I’d known…I may well…have shagged her…meself.” Spike brushed tears from his eyes, and slowed his laughter down, ‘til he was barely chuckling. “I would have never guessed it. How did you find out?”
“Find out about her toes? One night, after we…uh…I was looking at her feet, and there it was. Long, black hair flowing out of the gaps in her toes. I asked her about it, and she got embarrassed, said it was a girl thing. I never pressed her for an answer after that….”
“Xander, you bloody idiot. You can’t walk out on her. You would be a fool, okay; more of a fool than you already are if you did. The hairy toes thing? That’s a demon mark.”
“See? Demon. I’m going to marry a demon.”
“Ex-demon. Here.” Spike handed Xander an open bottle of beer, and the boy took it gratefully, drank half, then listened. The whole situation amused and amazed Spike. He never expected to be the Whelp’s lifeline, but if he must, to preserve what he had with Buffy…. Clearing his throat, he sat down across from Xander, and gave him a hard look. “Has anyone ever explained the facts of life to you?”
“What? Huh? Yeah—my dad, when I was about eleven and he was about three sheets to the wind. I really didn’t get much out of it. Thank God for Anya…and sex ed.,” he finished lamely, realizing what he’d said.
Spike mentally rubbed his hands together, his job already half done. Just to convince the boy not to run…he could do this. “Not the human facts of life. The demon facts of life.” At Xander’s blank look, he continued. “Demons are normally not compatible with humans. I’m sure that by associating with the Slayer, you already know this. They have different anatomy, some with different parts….” He paused to give Xander time to come up with some gory mental pictures while he sipped his beer.
“Now, demons such as Anya—they’re different. Not only are they compatible, but also most of them start as human. The demon thing, to them, is a gift, not a curse, or an unpleasant turning. Very few vengeance demons ever make it out of the biz. That’s just normal. Usually, something kills them. Slayers. Other demons. The human they’ve helped, or cursed. Lasting as long as Anya did was a bloody miracle in itself.”
Xander was spellbound by what Spike was telling him. “Okay. So what about the hair on her feet?”
“That, dear Xander, is her gift to you.” At the boy’s blank look, he continued. Leaning forward, his voice lowering to conspiracy level, he said, “Xander, would you say that Anya is…a little more than good in the sack?”
Xander’s jaw dropped, then his hands clenched into a fist. When he realized that Spike wasn’t asking for his own benefit, he relaxed for a moment and thought…hard. He’d only been with Faith the one time, and although she was good…Anya was better. Better than anything, or anyone. “Yeah, I guess.”
“There’s a reason for that. The hairy toes.”
“Hairy toes make you good in bed?”
Spike hung his head. “No, you wanker. Hairy toes on an ex-demon make you good in bed.”
“Oh. How?”
“I dunno. Some kind of parting gift, after being a demon. But it gives them amazing sexual prowess, and the added bonus of not being able to stop having sex until their partner is completely satisfied. Completely.” Spike sipped from his beer, and said, “So, you’re through with Anya then?”
“I never said that!”
“Well, you’re leaving town, and all, thought it would be over between you two.”
“I….” Xander looked at the mess in the room, and said, “I didn’t know. But I am so not leaving now. You’ll stalk Anya like you stalked Buffy!”
A protest leaped to Spike’s lips, then melted away. Not supposed to tell. Never tell. “What is it that’s got you all spooked now, anyway? You never did say….”
“This whole wedding thing. Not of the good, let me tell you, buddy. You’re lucky, won’t be roped into marriage, not the Big Bad. Never have to deal with guest lists, seating charts, all that bull—“
“Then don’t.”
“Huh?”
“Xander, you need to improve your vocabulary. You say huh way too much. You know what’s even more romantic than a wedding?”
“Nope.”
“Eloping.” Confusion passed over Xander’s face, and he froze.
“Elope? We’ve already paid for everything…family flying in…caterers….”
“And won’t all that still be there when you’re married? You can just skip all the wedding stuff, and have a reception.” Spike leaned forward in the chair, his beer dangling between his knees. “Xander. Harris, look at me.”
Xander obediently looked up, and Spike leaned slightly closer. “Xander, I know what your family’s like. Spent enough time with them, while I lived with you. Know how much they…damage you. You’re not like them. You don’t live your life in a bottle, and you never will. You’re stronger than they are.”
“But, what if…?”
“What if what? What if you and Anya don’t work out? Are you ever going to find out if you give this all up?” He spread his arms to encompass the room. “Running out on the best thing to ever happen to you? That’s not you, Xander. That’s the devil inside you, telling you to do the wrong thing.”
“Wait, there’s a devil inside me now?”
“You know. Your conscience. The angel on one shoulder, the devil on the other.” Spike leaned back in his chair, and said, “Well, okay, so eloping is out of the question….”
“I never said that. It’s just, we’ve laid out a lot of money, and Anya would be disappointed….”
“She would be more disappointed if you left town and the two of you didn’t get married at all. Don’t you know anything about your bint, Harris? If you don’t get married, it will destroy both of you.”
“How?”
“Because you’ll always wonder. You’ll always be searching. You were lucky, Xan. You found the right one, right from the start. You didn’t have to spend a hundred years with the wrong one first—you got it right. Be happy, Xander, and make your woman happy. That’s all that really matters in this world is making people happy. You have the chance to do it—so go do it.”
Xander stood, hope on his face. “I do have the chance to make her really happy, don’t I? I’m going to go ask her to run away with me, Spike.”
“Go. I’ll—pile your stuff back in your room for now. Go now, Xander. Hurry.”
Xander ran out of the apartment, and Spike grabbed a handful of clothes and threw them through the open door of the bedroom. Mission accomplished, he thought to himself.
Spike knew that he and Xander weren’t the best of buddies, but he had to make the effort. Had to, for him and for Buffy. He strolled up the walk to the Whelp’s apartment, beer snugged under his arm and munchies in his hand, and prepared himself for the worst.
The worst was exactly what he got. Xander opened the apartment door, a look of dread on his face, and the look melted into relief at the peroxide blonde framed in the doorway.
“Spike! Thank God it’s you and not Anya. Come in.”
Spike was almost touched that the boy decided to invite him in, then started to worry when Xander went into his room, turning his back on the vampire. That was never a good sign.
“Spike, I need your help. I need to get outta town, as quickly as possible.”
Spike watched his sex life circling the drain, ready to go down, and grabbed Xander’s arm. He could see by the mess the Whelp was serious. Clothes were thrown helter skelter around the living room, some better clothes draped over the dining room chairs, and personal belongings of all kinds tossed into boxes. A giant crayon leaned against the wall, and hardhat and steel-toed boots toppled haphazardly at the bottom.
“What are you doin’, you brainless berk?”
The ice in Spike’s tone stopped Xander in his tracks. “What does it look like I’m doing, Evil Dead? I’m leaving.”
“Leaving? Why?”
“You must have missed the memo. I’m supposed to get married in a few days….”
“Yes, I know. I got my invite a month ago. As did everyone else. So you leaving fits in…where?”
“I can’t do it, Spike.” Xander sat down, and buried his face in his hands. “I can’t marry Ahn. She’s wonderful, she’s beautiful, she’s…well, she’s everything I could ever want. But she’s a demon. How could I ever even think of marrying a demon? She….”
“Wait a minute. You’re running out on the wedding?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. I can’t go through with it. I can’t marry her.”
Spike grabbed for the only straw left. “Why does that make a difference now? It didn’t make a piss difference when you were shagging all the time. Now you decide you can’t marry the bloody bint? What kind of a man are you, Harris?”
“I know. I feel terrible. Just awful.”
“There’s more to it than that, Harris. What happened that you don’t think you can marry Anya? When did the whole demon thing become an issue?”
“I…I…Spike…she’s a demon. She could disembowel me with a word….”
“Sorry to burst your bubble, but she’s not a demon, she’s an ex-demon. Totally different, Xander. She’s as human as you are and I was, once.”
“Then why does she grow black hair on the bottoms of her feet?”
“Oh, so Anya’s got the hairy toes, and that makes you want to jump ship? This is bloody rich!”
Xander looked more than annoyed at the blond vampire that was nearly hysterically laughing. “Why is that so funny?”
“If…I’d known…I may well…have shagged her…meself.” Spike brushed tears from his eyes, and slowed his laughter down, ‘til he was barely chuckling. “I would have never guessed it. How did you find out?”
“Find out about her toes? One night, after we…uh…I was looking at her feet, and there it was. Long, black hair flowing out of the gaps in her toes. I asked her about it, and she got embarrassed, said it was a girl thing. I never pressed her for an answer after that….”
“Xander, you bloody idiot. You can’t walk out on her. You would be a fool, okay; more of a fool than you already are if you did. The hairy toes thing? That’s a demon mark.”
“See? Demon. I’m going to marry a demon.”
“Ex-demon. Here.” Spike handed Xander an open bottle of beer, and the boy took it gratefully, drank half, then listened. The whole situation amused and amazed Spike. He never expected to be the Whelp’s lifeline, but if he must, to preserve what he had with Buffy…. Clearing his throat, he sat down across from Xander, and gave him a hard look. “Has anyone ever explained the facts of life to you?”
“What? Huh? Yeah—my dad, when I was about eleven and he was about three sheets to the wind. I really didn’t get much out of it. Thank God for Anya…and sex ed.,” he finished lamely, realizing what he’d said.
Spike mentally rubbed his hands together, his job already half done. Just to convince the boy not to run…he could do this. “Not the human facts of life. The demon facts of life.” At Xander’s blank look, he continued. “Demons are normally not compatible with humans. I’m sure that by associating with the Slayer, you already know this. They have different anatomy, some with different parts….” He paused to give Xander time to come up with some gory mental pictures while he sipped his beer.
“Now, demons such as Anya—they’re different. Not only are they compatible, but also most of them start as human. The demon thing, to them, is a gift, not a curse, or an unpleasant turning. Very few vengeance demons ever make it out of the biz. That’s just normal. Usually, something kills them. Slayers. Other demons. The human they’ve helped, or cursed. Lasting as long as Anya did was a bloody miracle in itself.”
Xander was spellbound by what Spike was telling him. “Okay. So what about the hair on her feet?”
“That, dear Xander, is her gift to you.” At the boy’s blank look, he continued. Leaning forward, his voice lowering to conspiracy level, he said, “Xander, would you say that Anya is…a little more than good in the sack?”
Xander’s jaw dropped, then his hands clenched into a fist. When he realized that Spike wasn’t asking for his own benefit, he relaxed for a moment and thought…hard. He’d only been with Faith the one time, and although she was good…Anya was better. Better than anything, or anyone. “Yeah, I guess.”
“There’s a reason for that. The hairy toes.”
“Hairy toes make you good in bed?”
Spike hung his head. “No, you wanker. Hairy toes on an ex-demon make you good in bed.”
“Oh. How?”
“I dunno. Some kind of parting gift, after being a demon. But it gives them amazing sexual prowess, and the added bonus of not being able to stop having sex until their partner is completely satisfied. Completely.” Spike sipped from his beer, and said, “So, you’re through with Anya then?”
“I never said that!”
“Well, you’re leaving town, and all, thought it would be over between you two.”
“I….” Xander looked at the mess in the room, and said, “I didn’t know. But I am so not leaving now. You’ll stalk Anya like you stalked Buffy!”
A protest leaped to Spike’s lips, then melted away. Not supposed to tell. Never tell. “What is it that’s got you all spooked now, anyway? You never did say….”
“This whole wedding thing. Not of the good, let me tell you, buddy. You’re lucky, won’t be roped into marriage, not the Big Bad. Never have to deal with guest lists, seating charts, all that bull—“
“Then don’t.”
“Huh?”
“Xander, you need to improve your vocabulary. You say huh way too much. You know what’s even more romantic than a wedding?”
“Nope.”
“Eloping.” Confusion passed over Xander’s face, and he froze.
“Elope? We’ve already paid for everything…family flying in…caterers….”
“And won’t all that still be there when you’re married? You can just skip all the wedding stuff, and have a reception.” Spike leaned forward in the chair, his beer dangling between his knees. “Xander. Harris, look at me.”
Xander obediently looked up, and Spike leaned slightly closer. “Xander, I know what your family’s like. Spent enough time with them, while I lived with you. Know how much they…damage you. You’re not like them. You don’t live your life in a bottle, and you never will. You’re stronger than they are.”
“But, what if…?”
“What if what? What if you and Anya don’t work out? Are you ever going to find out if you give this all up?” He spread his arms to encompass the room. “Running out on the best thing to ever happen to you? That’s not you, Xander. That’s the devil inside you, telling you to do the wrong thing.”
“Wait, there’s a devil inside me now?”
“You know. Your conscience. The angel on one shoulder, the devil on the other.” Spike leaned back in his chair, and said, “Well, okay, so eloping is out of the question….”
“I never said that. It’s just, we’ve laid out a lot of money, and Anya would be disappointed….”
“She would be more disappointed if you left town and the two of you didn’t get married at all. Don’t you know anything about your bint, Harris? If you don’t get married, it will destroy both of you.”
“How?”
“Because you’ll always wonder. You’ll always be searching. You were lucky, Xan. You found the right one, right from the start. You didn’t have to spend a hundred years with the wrong one first—you got it right. Be happy, Xander, and make your woman happy. That’s all that really matters in this world is making people happy. You have the chance to do it—so go do it.”
Xander stood, hope on his face. “I do have the chance to make her really happy, don’t I? I’m going to go ask her to run away with me, Spike.”
“Go. I’ll—pile your stuff back in your room for now. Go now, Xander. Hurry.”
Xander ran out of the apartment, and Spike grabbed a handful of clothes and threw them through the open door of the bedroom. Mission accomplished, he thought to himself.
Chapter 8
Wedding Bell Blues—Chapter 8
Buffy looked around the deserted Magic Box. “Where is everyone?”
“Xander looked like he was choking, said he had to go, and left. Giles cleaned his glasses, said he had some things to do at home, and left. Willow was trying not to get in our way, and doing very good at not looking at the magic books, but then she got sulky, and left.”
“Seems to be a pattern, don’t you think? So, any headway on the spell research?”
Tara looked embarrassed. “The only thing that we’ve really found out is that I’m really good about being really thorough in my spells. As far as the spell itself goes, there’s no breaking it.”
“But the added effects were from the markings on the walls and floor. Otherwise, the spell would have just affected Xander and me. How are you and Spike doing?” Anya added, trying to divert Buffy.
Buffy blushed, then looked on the verge of angry. “Not good, no thanks to you two. Well—if I was going to be honest…really good. This has made us actually sit down and talk. Not like we were big with the talking thing before. We actually had a conversation the other night, without mentioning sex, staking, patrol, or Scoobies!”
“What did you talk about?” Anya said, cramming her mouth full of potato chips Xander had left open on the table. “What is there to talk about?”
“Lots of things, Ahn—like books, movies, music, memories…there’s a whole world of things to talk about.”
“Xander and I don’t talk.”
Both girls turned together to look at her. “What do you mean, you don’t talk? I hear you talking all the time.”
“No, you don’t. What you hear is Xander trying to change me. Make me into another Buffy. I keep telling him, I’m not Buffy. But he keeps telling me, ‘Buffy wouldn’t ask that’, and ‘Buffy wouldn’t do that’. It’s getting really annoying.” Seeing the look on the Slayer’s face, she quickly amended, “Nothing that’s wrong with you, Buffy. Just—I’m not you. I’m me. Xander should love me because of me.”
“I agree with you, Ahn. I do.” Buffy turned slightly, and rolled her eyes at Willow. “Do you love him?”
“Oh, yes.” A dreamy smile crossed Anya’s face, and she rocked slowly back and forth. “I love him so much. He is everything to me.”
“But you have both been so tied in knots over this wedding.”
“Yes. All these stupid customs. Why I ever agreed to let Tara do that spell, I will never understand.”
“But you asked me to!” Tara said, protesting. “I wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t asked.
“But you said it was my gift. You didn’t say it would make me miserable.”
“I’ll say.” They turned to look at Buffy, and Anya stepped over to her, hugging her neck.
“I’m so sorry, Buffy. Now none of us are enjoying orgasms because of Tara’s spell.”
As she pried Anya’s arms out from around her neck, Buffy said, “I don’t think it was all Tara’s fault, Ahn. But there’s not all bad from it.”
“How can you say that? We have both missed out on many satisfying multiple orgasms this week, because of this spell. At least, I know that I have. How can there be any good in that?”
“Because, Anya. I know things now that I didn’t know before.” Like, how much I love Spike. How much I want to be with him. How I need him. “And I’ll bet you do too.”
“Yes. Xander’s grumpy in the mornings without sex. He’s grumpy at night without sex. He’s grumpy all the time without sex. He’s just grumpy. Maybe I won’t give him sex. Maybe I won’t marry him.”
“No! You have to!” Buffy and Tara both yelled.
“Why? Why do I have to marry him?”
Xander’s voice behind her made her stop and turn. “Because I love you Anya, more than I have ever loved anything or anyone in my life. I can’t imagine not waking up next to you every day. I can’t imagine life without you, and what’s more, I don’t want to. You make me the man I want to be. Will you marry me?”
Anya’s eyes filled with tears, and she melted into the arms held wide before her. “I already am, silly. Then come the orgasms.”
“I mean tonight. Right now. Forget the big formal wedding, we can still have the reception, but I want you to be Anya Harris tonight.”
“But Xander—the wedding—the deposits—“
“It’s okay, Ahn. It’s only money. And most of it was for the reception anyway. Don’t worry. Just run away with me, and make me the happiest man in the world.”
Biting her lip, Anya ran figures and dollar signs through her head. “Okay. But you’re paying me back, buster.” She turned to her friends that were there. “Where can we get married?”
“We can call the judge here in town. He’s my godfather.” At the girls’ surprised look, Xander shrugged. “Family custom. Anyway, we can go to city hall. That okay with you, Ahn?”
Anya clutched his arm, looking up at him dreamily. “Anything to be with you, sweetie.”
“Tara, take Anya to her apartment and get her dressed. Xander, you go get dressed yourself. I’ll call Giles and Willow.” Buffy went to the phone, and Xander stopped her.
“Call Spike too. He’s at my house. I want him to be there too.”
Buffy looked up at him, surprised. Xander gave her a sheepish look. “He kept me from doing the stupid thing.”
“Oh.” She went to the phone, and made the needed calls.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“And do you, Alexander Lavelle Harris, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold from this day forward, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, till death you do part?”
“I do.”
The magic almost felt like a cord snapping as the spell lifted from the two couples standing in the judges’ chambers. Buffy looked at Spike, and saw he felt it too; he had his tongue firmly planted behind his teeth, and the ‘gonna get it’ look was in his eyes. Moisture flooded her panties, and she rocked on her feet impatiently for the bride and groom to kiss so they could get out of there.
As they left City Hall, Xander casually said, “You know? I’ve not been feeling the greatest since last week. Been feeling…stifled. Stifled. That’s what it was. Anyway, now that feeling’s all gone.”
Anya paled, Tara choked, and Buffy just looked at Spike. “Back to my house. Party time.”
Buffy looked around the deserted Magic Box. “Where is everyone?”
“Xander looked like he was choking, said he had to go, and left. Giles cleaned his glasses, said he had some things to do at home, and left. Willow was trying not to get in our way, and doing very good at not looking at the magic books, but then she got sulky, and left.”
“Seems to be a pattern, don’t you think? So, any headway on the spell research?”
Tara looked embarrassed. “The only thing that we’ve really found out is that I’m really good about being really thorough in my spells. As far as the spell itself goes, there’s no breaking it.”
“But the added effects were from the markings on the walls and floor. Otherwise, the spell would have just affected Xander and me. How are you and Spike doing?” Anya added, trying to divert Buffy.
Buffy blushed, then looked on the verge of angry. “Not good, no thanks to you two. Well—if I was going to be honest…really good. This has made us actually sit down and talk. Not like we were big with the talking thing before. We actually had a conversation the other night, without mentioning sex, staking, patrol, or Scoobies!”
“What did you talk about?” Anya said, cramming her mouth full of potato chips Xander had left open on the table. “What is there to talk about?”
“Lots of things, Ahn—like books, movies, music, memories…there’s a whole world of things to talk about.”
“Xander and I don’t talk.”
Both girls turned together to look at her. “What do you mean, you don’t talk? I hear you talking all the time.”
“No, you don’t. What you hear is Xander trying to change me. Make me into another Buffy. I keep telling him, I’m not Buffy. But he keeps telling me, ‘Buffy wouldn’t ask that’, and ‘Buffy wouldn’t do that’. It’s getting really annoying.” Seeing the look on the Slayer’s face, she quickly amended, “Nothing that’s wrong with you, Buffy. Just—I’m not you. I’m me. Xander should love me because of me.”
“I agree with you, Ahn. I do.” Buffy turned slightly, and rolled her eyes at Willow. “Do you love him?”
“Oh, yes.” A dreamy smile crossed Anya’s face, and she rocked slowly back and forth. “I love him so much. He is everything to me.”
“But you have both been so tied in knots over this wedding.”
“Yes. All these stupid customs. Why I ever agreed to let Tara do that spell, I will never understand.”
“But you asked me to!” Tara said, protesting. “I wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t asked.
“But you said it was my gift. You didn’t say it would make me miserable.”
“I’ll say.” They turned to look at Buffy, and Anya stepped over to her, hugging her neck.
“I’m so sorry, Buffy. Now none of us are enjoying orgasms because of Tara’s spell.”
As she pried Anya’s arms out from around her neck, Buffy said, “I don’t think it was all Tara’s fault, Ahn. But there’s not all bad from it.”
“How can you say that? We have both missed out on many satisfying multiple orgasms this week, because of this spell. At least, I know that I have. How can there be any good in that?”
“Because, Anya. I know things now that I didn’t know before.” Like, how much I love Spike. How much I want to be with him. How I need him. “And I’ll bet you do too.”
“Yes. Xander’s grumpy in the mornings without sex. He’s grumpy at night without sex. He’s grumpy all the time without sex. He’s just grumpy. Maybe I won’t give him sex. Maybe I won’t marry him.”
“No! You have to!” Buffy and Tara both yelled.
“Why? Why do I have to marry him?”
Xander’s voice behind her made her stop and turn. “Because I love you Anya, more than I have ever loved anything or anyone in my life. I can’t imagine not waking up next to you every day. I can’t imagine life without you, and what’s more, I don’t want to. You make me the man I want to be. Will you marry me?”
Anya’s eyes filled with tears, and she melted into the arms held wide before her. “I already am, silly. Then come the orgasms.”
“I mean tonight. Right now. Forget the big formal wedding, we can still have the reception, but I want you to be Anya Harris tonight.”
“But Xander—the wedding—the deposits—“
“It’s okay, Ahn. It’s only money. And most of it was for the reception anyway. Don’t worry. Just run away with me, and make me the happiest man in the world.”
Biting her lip, Anya ran figures and dollar signs through her head. “Okay. But you’re paying me back, buster.” She turned to her friends that were there. “Where can we get married?”
“We can call the judge here in town. He’s my godfather.” At the girls’ surprised look, Xander shrugged. “Family custom. Anyway, we can go to city hall. That okay with you, Ahn?”
Anya clutched his arm, looking up at him dreamily. “Anything to be with you, sweetie.”
“Tara, take Anya to her apartment and get her dressed. Xander, you go get dressed yourself. I’ll call Giles and Willow.” Buffy went to the phone, and Xander stopped her.
“Call Spike too. He’s at my house. I want him to be there too.”
Buffy looked up at him, surprised. Xander gave her a sheepish look. “He kept me from doing the stupid thing.”
“Oh.” She went to the phone, and made the needed calls.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“And do you, Alexander Lavelle Harris, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold from this day forward, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, till death you do part?”
“I do.”
The magic almost felt like a cord snapping as the spell lifted from the two couples standing in the judges’ chambers. Buffy looked at Spike, and saw he felt it too; he had his tongue firmly planted behind his teeth, and the ‘gonna get it’ look was in his eyes. Moisture flooded her panties, and she rocked on her feet impatiently for the bride and groom to kiss so they could get out of there.
As they left City Hall, Xander casually said, “You know? I’ve not been feeling the greatest since last week. Been feeling…stifled. Stifled. That’s what it was. Anyway, now that feeling’s all gone.”
Anya paled, Tara choked, and Buffy just looked at Spike. “Back to my house. Party time.”
Chapter 9
Wedding Bell Blues—Chapter 9
It was amazing what a little application of magic could do.
Although nobody saw her do it, Tara waved her finger and magicked up some decorations and a cake. Guilt coursed through her, because she had castigated Willow for doing the same thing, but she knew that it was needed, and therefore of the good. Anya and Xander laughed like children at the sight of the white bells on the porch, the streamers decorating the living room and dining room, and the cake on the dining room table.
Everyone was standing around admiring the decorations while they cut cake and talked, and Spike found his hand captured in the Slayer’s. She pulled him toward the hallway, sneaking toward the closet door under the stairs.
She opened it quietly, then pulled him inside, glad that she’d had the forethought to clean out the small space. She pulled him to her, her mouth hungry for his, and he allowed her to be the aggressor, her hands skimming his body and cupping his asscheeks, pulling him closer to the heat he knew was about to consume her.
“Have to be quiet, pet. Can’t scream.”
“I know. I’ll find something to stuff in my mouth.”
He thought of a dozen replies, each one dirtier than the next, then all thought deserted him as she slipped her hand into his pants to stroke his cock and teased his balls.
“Come on, Big Bad. You seem awful quiet for a villain. What are you going to do with me now?”
“God, Buffy. I’m going to shag you until neither one of us can walk.” He buried his face in the tender spot behind her ear, licking and sucking it until her moan rumbled against his chest. “Cor, pet, love you so much.”
His admission sent a shiver down her spine and into her clit. “Love you, Spike. Love you, too. Please…?”
He knew what she was asking for, and he obliged her. Sitting her firmly on the shelf behind her, he tugged on the silk panties until they parted at the seams, then tucked them into the pocket of his duster for later. She lifted her skirt, wrapping her legs around his waist, and drew him slowly toward her. He purred when he heard his zipper being lowered, her hand reaching inside his jeans for his already hard cock. Her scent slammed into his nostrils, and he grew in her hand.
She teased them both by rubbing his velvety head against her juices, over her clit, the pressure not great enough to relieve her building tension. Completely in control, she brushed him against her until she thought she would explode, then positioned him at her entrance, her legs closing around him and bringing him home.
He almost yelled, she was so hot. Hot, tight, wet—adjectives burned through his mind, searing her memory on his cells as she drew him in deeper, closer, their crisp curls merging and meshing in a tangle as she started to rotate her hips. His cockhead raked against the hard bump of her cervix, and he tried to withdraw, afraid of hurting her. She locked her ankles behind him, unwilling to let him have even a bare amount of movement.
She flexed the muscles buried deep inside her, and he panted unnecessarily at her strength. Clenching against him, her peak coming closer to the surface with every spasm of her muscles, every movement of her hips, she whispered, “Spike, come closer. Baby, I’m gonna come. Now, baby…now….”
He leaned forward, and she reached to bite his neck before he could claim her mouth to swallow her screams. He stood still, her teeth worrying his siring scar, and couldn’t control the spasms that rocked his body or the jets that erupted from the end of his cock.
Breathless, he pulled away from her, and she shivered. “Don’t stop, lover. Coming close…maybe I’ll let you move now….”
She loosened her grip on his waist, and he began moving inside her slowly, angling himself to rub the nerves buried deep inside her as well as hitting her cervix with every move. She tore at his shoulders with her fingers, the scent of his blood flooding the closet, and she gushed clear fluid over his cock when the scent hit her nose. She brought her fingers to her mouth, and licked his blood off of them, and he almost came at the sheer erotic bliss the sight offered his demon.
He felt his face change, his fangs flowing into his mouth, and saw Buffy clearly for the first time in the dark. Her hair was falling down around her face; her eyes were wide, pupils dilated with desire and darkness. She raised her hand to his cheek, and felt his ridges, and said, “Yes, lover. Bite me. Make me yours. Now and forever.”
He stopped moving. “Are you sure, Buffy?”
“More sure than I’ve ever been. I missed this. I don’t want to ever lose it.”
“Not if I can help it, pet.” He kissed her gently, mindful of his fangs, and tasted his blood on her tongue. “Bite me too.”
She nodded, suddenly nervous, and pulled him closer to her. He started thrusting into her harder, brushing his hands over her legs, the globes of her ass. She reached under his shirt, her hands all over his back as he sucked the skin on her neck, where the ponce had bitten her once. There would be no other bites for his Buffy, none but his, he thought to himself.
It built, catching them both unawares, raging through them like wildfire as it caught on their passion. She caught her breath in her throat, and as her orgasm consumed her, she clamped down on his scarred skin as before. Her bite was stronger, and she bit through, his blood gushing onto her tongue. It wasn’t unpleasant, she thought, before the magick hit them both.
Spike slipped his fangs into her neck in time with his thrusts, and his guts twisted when the Slayer’s blood rushed down his throat and into his system. His demon well satisfied with the taste, he sucked at her neck hungrily, his cock slamming into her as she spasmed around him. When she bit him, it drove him over his carefully controlled edge, and he growled, then gritted, “Mine, Slayer. Mine.”
“Yours, vampire. Mine forever.”
“Always yours, Buffy.” The magick forced them to come again in unison, and this time they couldn’t hold back the screams.
They heard a small knock in the sudden silence in the closet and in the house. “Buffy? Are you okay?”
The door opened before she could reply, and she looked into the faces of her friends, family, and Watcher.
It was amazing what a little application of magic could do.
Although nobody saw her do it, Tara waved her finger and magicked up some decorations and a cake. Guilt coursed through her, because she had castigated Willow for doing the same thing, but she knew that it was needed, and therefore of the good. Anya and Xander laughed like children at the sight of the white bells on the porch, the streamers decorating the living room and dining room, and the cake on the dining room table.
Everyone was standing around admiring the decorations while they cut cake and talked, and Spike found his hand captured in the Slayer’s. She pulled him toward the hallway, sneaking toward the closet door under the stairs.
She opened it quietly, then pulled him inside, glad that she’d had the forethought to clean out the small space. She pulled him to her, her mouth hungry for his, and he allowed her to be the aggressor, her hands skimming his body and cupping his asscheeks, pulling him closer to the heat he knew was about to consume her.
“Have to be quiet, pet. Can’t scream.”
“I know. I’ll find something to stuff in my mouth.”
He thought of a dozen replies, each one dirtier than the next, then all thought deserted him as she slipped her hand into his pants to stroke his cock and teased his balls.
“Come on, Big Bad. You seem awful quiet for a villain. What are you going to do with me now?”
“God, Buffy. I’m going to shag you until neither one of us can walk.” He buried his face in the tender spot behind her ear, licking and sucking it until her moan rumbled against his chest. “Cor, pet, love you so much.”
His admission sent a shiver down her spine and into her clit. “Love you, Spike. Love you, too. Please…?”
He knew what she was asking for, and he obliged her. Sitting her firmly on the shelf behind her, he tugged on the silk panties until they parted at the seams, then tucked them into the pocket of his duster for later. She lifted her skirt, wrapping her legs around his waist, and drew him slowly toward her. He purred when he heard his zipper being lowered, her hand reaching inside his jeans for his already hard cock. Her scent slammed into his nostrils, and he grew in her hand.
She teased them both by rubbing his velvety head against her juices, over her clit, the pressure not great enough to relieve her building tension. Completely in control, she brushed him against her until she thought she would explode, then positioned him at her entrance, her legs closing around him and bringing him home.
He almost yelled, she was so hot. Hot, tight, wet—adjectives burned through his mind, searing her memory on his cells as she drew him in deeper, closer, their crisp curls merging and meshing in a tangle as she started to rotate her hips. His cockhead raked against the hard bump of her cervix, and he tried to withdraw, afraid of hurting her. She locked her ankles behind him, unwilling to let him have even a bare amount of movement.
She flexed the muscles buried deep inside her, and he panted unnecessarily at her strength. Clenching against him, her peak coming closer to the surface with every spasm of her muscles, every movement of her hips, she whispered, “Spike, come closer. Baby, I’m gonna come. Now, baby…now….”
He leaned forward, and she reached to bite his neck before he could claim her mouth to swallow her screams. He stood still, her teeth worrying his siring scar, and couldn’t control the spasms that rocked his body or the jets that erupted from the end of his cock.
Breathless, he pulled away from her, and she shivered. “Don’t stop, lover. Coming close…maybe I’ll let you move now….”
She loosened her grip on his waist, and he began moving inside her slowly, angling himself to rub the nerves buried deep inside her as well as hitting her cervix with every move. She tore at his shoulders with her fingers, the scent of his blood flooding the closet, and she gushed clear fluid over his cock when the scent hit her nose. She brought her fingers to her mouth, and licked his blood off of them, and he almost came at the sheer erotic bliss the sight offered his demon.
He felt his face change, his fangs flowing into his mouth, and saw Buffy clearly for the first time in the dark. Her hair was falling down around her face; her eyes were wide, pupils dilated with desire and darkness. She raised her hand to his cheek, and felt his ridges, and said, “Yes, lover. Bite me. Make me yours. Now and forever.”
He stopped moving. “Are you sure, Buffy?”
“More sure than I’ve ever been. I missed this. I don’t want to ever lose it.”
“Not if I can help it, pet.” He kissed her gently, mindful of his fangs, and tasted his blood on her tongue. “Bite me too.”
She nodded, suddenly nervous, and pulled him closer to her. He started thrusting into her harder, brushing his hands over her legs, the globes of her ass. She reached under his shirt, her hands all over his back as he sucked the skin on her neck, where the ponce had bitten her once. There would be no other bites for his Buffy, none but his, he thought to himself.
It built, catching them both unawares, raging through them like wildfire as it caught on their passion. She caught her breath in her throat, and as her orgasm consumed her, she clamped down on his scarred skin as before. Her bite was stronger, and she bit through, his blood gushing onto her tongue. It wasn’t unpleasant, she thought, before the magick hit them both.
Spike slipped his fangs into her neck in time with his thrusts, and his guts twisted when the Slayer’s blood rushed down his throat and into his system. His demon well satisfied with the taste, he sucked at her neck hungrily, his cock slamming into her as she spasmed around him. When she bit him, it drove him over his carefully controlled edge, and he growled, then gritted, “Mine, Slayer. Mine.”
“Yours, vampire. Mine forever.”
“Always yours, Buffy.” The magick forced them to come again in unison, and this time they couldn’t hold back the screams.
They heard a small knock in the sudden silence in the closet and in the house. “Buffy? Are you okay?”
The door opened before she could reply, and she looked into the faces of her friends, family, and Watcher.
Chapter 10
Wedding Bell Blues—Chapter 10
“Uh, hey, everyone.”
Thank God for Spike’s duster, because they couldn’t see anything, except…well, they couldn’t see, she didn’t think. She caught a glimpse of Dawnie’s face, then watched her sister push her way through the crowd around the door. “Scarred for life, people—scarred—eyes burning—let me through….”
“Buffy—you’re having sex with Spike?” Willow said, her voice sounding a little…betrayed?
“Of course they are. Don’t you see, that’s why she’s been so happy lately. Multiple orgasms make people happy, no orgasms make people like Buffy. Sorry Buffy. You were getting kind of not-happy, for a while at least.”
“Do you need our help, Buffster?”
Everyone turned to look at Xander, who knew he’d just beat his own record at the stupid things people say awards. He flushed a deep red, then made a hasty exit, following Dawn back to the sugary goodness of wedding cake and punch.
“Buffy, well…I must say….”
Buffy reached out and slammed the door in the remaining faces looking expectantly at her. “Sorry. Need some privacy here. We’ll be out in a minute.”
The room dark again, she strained her eyes for a moment to find Spike in the darkness. He captured her hand, and brought it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her palm.
“I can’t make any promises like Xander and Anya did, Buffy. All I can say is that I love you. More every time I look at you. And I want to be by your side, fighting the good fight until I dust.”
“I don’t want you to make any empty promises, Spike. Just that you love me is enough. If we have that, then we have everything.”
He helped her stand and straighten her clothes, and watched her brace herself for the disapproval and criticism of her friends. “You don’t have to say a word, pet. You’re of an age to make those decisions for yourself.”
He saw her sigh, and mirrored it. “I know, Spike. But they’re my friends, and my Watcher.”
“Right. They wouldn’t be your bleeding parents, or anything like that. Right? They never asked your help in choosing their partners. Why should you have a say in choosing your own?”
Well-worn arguments, all, but she didn’t want to argue—she wanted wedding cake and happy thoughts for everyone. She put on a borrowed resolve face from Willow, and put her hand on the knob prepared to face the music. When he stopped her, it caught her by surprise.
“A minute, love. Let me get myself arranged.” She heard him zip up, then felt him turning her around in the closet.
“Buffy Summers, you have slayed the Big Bad. With your heart, and your sweet words, and everything that is you—you have slayed me, made me your pet vampire. I love you.”
“I love you, Spike, Slayer of Slayers. You can stake me good and proper any time. Okay? Let’s go tell our friends our happy news. About loving till dust? I love you too.”
Their lips met in the darkness, bodies pressed together, one heart beating for two. They had made their choice, exchanged their vows. They walked into the closet as a secret; walking out, it was as a couple, for the entire world to see.
Spike opened the door for his lady, and they stepped together into their new life.
Name: Warprince9
Email: warprince9@aol.com
Seasons: season 6
Challenge: 158
First take your copy of "As You Were" and throw it out the window into a busy street. The countdown to Xander and Anya's wedding is now at around one week and the Spuffy sexcapades are still in full swing. Anya hears its bad luck for the bride and groom to sleep together in the week before the wedding. So what does she do? Has a spell cast so Xander can't be involved in any form of sex until after the wedding. Well, you know how it is with Scoobies and spells, and now SPIKE can't have sex until Xander and Anya have said "I do". How will our favorite couple deal with the growing frustration with now form of release? And what revelations will this "break" cause Buffy to reach?
Must haves:
1. Buffy and Spike being very upset over this.
2. Buffy, Spike, or both convincing Xander to go through with the wedding, without revealing their own selfish motives.
3. The moment the spell ends the two go to the first private place available (bedroom, bathroom, broom closet, anything) to let out the week's worth of tension.
4. One to three hours later, a Scooby search party finds them in a very compromising position, and that being how the Scoobies learn about them (No revelations before then).
Can have:
1. Major bonus points for comedy. Lots of laughs and funny situations.
Thanks so much to everyone who was kind enough to read and review. I think I got all the necessary requirements down for the challenge, and who knows, maybe this will spark another fic! My gratitude to my personal beta, my beautiful girlfriend, who kept reading and saying, “Ohmigod, De, you can’t just leave it hanging there!”(No, I will not share my beta, either—get yer own!) and much, much grateful applause to Bloodshedbaby and the Bloodshedverse for someplace to put my stuff. Thank you all—bows gracefully—you may now leave your seats…Spike_spetslayer has left the building….
“Uh, hey, everyone.”
Thank God for Spike’s duster, because they couldn’t see anything, except…well, they couldn’t see, she didn’t think. She caught a glimpse of Dawnie’s face, then watched her sister push her way through the crowd around the door. “Scarred for life, people—scarred—eyes burning—let me through….”
“Buffy—you’re having sex with Spike?” Willow said, her voice sounding a little…betrayed?
“Of course they are. Don’t you see, that’s why she’s been so happy lately. Multiple orgasms make people happy, no orgasms make people like Buffy. Sorry Buffy. You were getting kind of not-happy, for a while at least.”
“Do you need our help, Buffster?”
Everyone turned to look at Xander, who knew he’d just beat his own record at the stupid things people say awards. He flushed a deep red, then made a hasty exit, following Dawn back to the sugary goodness of wedding cake and punch.
“Buffy, well…I must say….”
Buffy reached out and slammed the door in the remaining faces looking expectantly at her. “Sorry. Need some privacy here. We’ll be out in a minute.”
The room dark again, she strained her eyes for a moment to find Spike in the darkness. He captured her hand, and brought it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to her palm.
“I can’t make any promises like Xander and Anya did, Buffy. All I can say is that I love you. More every time I look at you. And I want to be by your side, fighting the good fight until I dust.”
“I don’t want you to make any empty promises, Spike. Just that you love me is enough. If we have that, then we have everything.”
He helped her stand and straighten her clothes, and watched her brace herself for the disapproval and criticism of her friends. “You don’t have to say a word, pet. You’re of an age to make those decisions for yourself.”
He saw her sigh, and mirrored it. “I know, Spike. But they’re my friends, and my Watcher.”
“Right. They wouldn’t be your bleeding parents, or anything like that. Right? They never asked your help in choosing their partners. Why should you have a say in choosing your own?”
Well-worn arguments, all, but she didn’t want to argue—she wanted wedding cake and happy thoughts for everyone. She put on a borrowed resolve face from Willow, and put her hand on the knob prepared to face the music. When he stopped her, it caught her by surprise.
“A minute, love. Let me get myself arranged.” She heard him zip up, then felt him turning her around in the closet.
“Buffy Summers, you have slayed the Big Bad. With your heart, and your sweet words, and everything that is you—you have slayed me, made me your pet vampire. I love you.”
“I love you, Spike, Slayer of Slayers. You can stake me good and proper any time. Okay? Let’s go tell our friends our happy news. About loving till dust? I love you too.”
Their lips met in the darkness, bodies pressed together, one heart beating for two. They had made their choice, exchanged their vows. They walked into the closet as a secret; walking out, it was as a couple, for the entire world to see.
Spike opened the door for his lady, and they stepped together into their new life.
Name: Warprince9
Email: warprince9@aol.com
Seasons: season 6
Challenge: 158
First take your copy of "As You Were" and throw it out the window into a busy street. The countdown to Xander and Anya's wedding is now at around one week and the Spuffy sexcapades are still in full swing. Anya hears its bad luck for the bride and groom to sleep together in the week before the wedding. So what does she do? Has a spell cast so Xander can't be involved in any form of sex until after the wedding. Well, you know how it is with Scoobies and spells, and now SPIKE can't have sex until Xander and Anya have said "I do". How will our favorite couple deal with the growing frustration with now form of release? And what revelations will this "break" cause Buffy to reach?
Must haves:
1. Buffy and Spike being very upset over this.
2. Buffy, Spike, or both convincing Xander to go through with the wedding, without revealing their own selfish motives.
3. The moment the spell ends the two go to the first private place available (bedroom, bathroom, broom closet, anything) to let out the week's worth of tension.
4. One to three hours later, a Scooby search party finds them in a very compromising position, and that being how the Scoobies learn about them (No revelations before then).
Can have:
1. Major bonus points for comedy. Lots of laughs and funny situations.
Thanks so much to everyone who was kind enough to read and review. I think I got all the necessary requirements down for the challenge, and who knows, maybe this will spark another fic! My gratitude to my personal beta, my beautiful girlfriend, who kept reading and saying, “Ohmigod, De, you can’t just leave it hanging there!”(No, I will not share my beta, either—get yer own!) and much, much grateful applause to Bloodshedbaby and the Bloodshedverse for someplace to put my stuff. Thank you all—bows gracefully—you may now leave your seats…Spike_spetslayer has left the building….
If you are under the age of 17, please use your head and do not read fics that are labeled "NC-17". Parents, I cannot control what your children are reading, so please be advised that the majority of the fics archived here are NOT suitable for those under the age of 17.
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer and I am in no way making any profit from this site. This is for pure entertainment purposes only.
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