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RATING: Adult entertainment due to m/m sexual activity and language. |
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Manip
by BmblBee
5 Days More
by
BmblBee
Part One
Midnight.
The witching hour. The time of night that anyone who is familiar with the other earthly activities of a graveyard, should be expecting the unexpected.
Still, when the heart wrenching scream pierced the silence of the dark, it turned Buffy's blood to ice. Not because it was so out of the ordinary for creatures, even human ones, to wail in cemeteries, but because it was a voice she knew as well as her own. It was Willow.
Willow, who in all the years they had spent together, had never made that particular sound before. Buffy had heard her squeak, squeal, and even at times whoop in disgust or distress, at the attacks or gooey explosions caused by the various demons they had battled. But this was different.
This was a heartbreaking scream of utter horror and defeat. This was the type of scream that could never be laughed off or dismissed no matter how much time passed.
Buffy tossed aside the miniature gra'fl demon she was teasing and took off running. When the second scream came, she leaped headstones and instinctively, despite the total lack of the quarter moon's illumination, sidestepped copper pot of wilted and dying flowers, her feet barely touching the mounds of undisturbed earth.
"WILLOW!"
No voice answered her. No reassuring chuckle with the explanation of a stick that resembled a snake or even a newly risen vampire that needed a stake for a midnight snack or a holy water wash up.
Honing her heightened senses in on the familiar sound of her best friends breathing and heartbeat, Buffy rounded the cluster of the Well's family markers, past the pump house where mourners could get water for their offerings, and rushed straight for the crypts.
Her agnostic prayers were that of the profoundly religious. 'Please God. Please not Willow. Please let me get there in time.'
Able to see somewhat better in the dark than any average nonslayer, Buffy spotted her shape off in the distance and was at lease somewhat relieved to see that she was still standing. Whatever had caused the terror in her voice hadn't yet taken her down.
Without stopping or scanning the perimeter for danger, Buffy skid to a stop beside the sobbing distraught woman.
"Jesus, Willow, what is it? What's wrong? What happened?" By now Buffy had clamped her hands on the redheads shoulders forcing her to face the confusion of the slayer and shook her hoping an answer would tumble out.
Finally, as recognition seeped back into the emerald green eyes, Willow gasp, still unable to speak, and pointed to the ground by the side of the crypt.
An ominous premonition rushed through her and suddenly, Buffy didn't want to look. She didn't want to see what she had been so anxious to understand. She closed her eyes and stood her ground, neither releasing her friend or asking for any further explanation.
"Buffy."
The sad whispered voice forced her back to reality, her eyes popped open as though she had forgotten where she was, and she turned her head to look down.
The sight that filled Buffy's eyes and brain was the one she had dreaded since the day she arrived in Sunnydale. It was the one she had bargained and bet against with a God she no longer believed in. It was the one thing she knew without a doubt was her fault.
"Xander. Oh my God, Xander."
Dropping to her knees beside the still, motionless, lifeless body, Buffy matched Willow's screams with one of her own.
There was no need for attempted CPR. It was too late for 911. The deep, red, swollen holes in the side of his neck told the whole story. It answered every question either woman could bring themselves to ask.
Buffy scooped the limp lifeless body up in her arms and rocked back and forth with him, sobbing and wailing in a way so distraught and terrifying that several newly risen fledges ran and hid.
Lowering herself to the ground beside them, Willow wrapped her arms
around both her best friends and joined in the movement of the dance
of mourning.
The women's tears flowed freely, running down and splashing onto the cheeks of a friend who could never again cry his own. Their hands brushed the hair from his forehead and their lips kissed his. In life he had fantasized of this. Held and loved by both his girls. Now, limp, he could no longer enjoy it. Death had robbed him of all promise, all future and joy. No, not death. A vampire.
Willow was the first to finally speak, still shaking, she did what she had always done, she looked to Buffy, the slayer, to fix this.
"Buffy, what can we do? How do we bring him back? A spell? A demon? We have to hurry."
Buffy just shook her head and continued to rock. "No, it's too late. We don't know what all the vampire responsible for this did."
The horror of realization rushed through Willow's body causing her stomach to roll and threaten to empty at the thought of what they may have to do to their friend.
"Do you think he's been turned. Oh, God, Buffy was he given the vampire's blood?"
"I don't know, but we need to think. We have to pull ourselves together and think. If he was turned, and I'm NOT saying he was, but IF he was turned we have till morning before he would rise. He deserves better than a stake through the heart. He deserves a funeral. Full honors. He deserves a hero's respect."
Willow tried to see through the confusing cloud of fear and sorrow. If this was anyone else, she would call Xander. Xander would know what to do.
"So what are you saying? What do we do?"
Buffy wiped her nose on the sleeve of her pink cashmere sweater and immediately slid her arms under her companions lifeless body, lifting him easily and clutching him to her chest. Her legs never shook under the weight.
"We take him home. Down to the basement where it's dark and we wait. Within six hours we will know what happened. If he remains still then we give him the funeral of a lifetime. Friends, flowers. Love and respect. Until then we stay by his side."
"And if he does rise?"
Buffy pulled the body closer and kissed his face gently. "Then one of us does the deed and we have a closed casket. In the mean time we call Giles and tell him what happened."
Buffy turned and started the long, unhappy walk home. Willow trailed sadly behind her friends.
"Six hours is a long time to wait. What do we do while we wait?"
Buffy never looked back. She continued her death march and felt her resolve, her hate, burn in the pit of her stomach.
"We stay and hold his hand. He deserves more than to be alone at the end of his life. After that, I kill every vampire I can find. Whoever did this will pay with his own miserable unlife."
Part Two
Willow stumbled in the dark, sniffled, then hurried to catch up. "Slow down, Buffy I can't keep up Where are we going? I thought we were taking him back to your house."
Buffy slowed a bit to let her friend fall in beside her. She shifted the weight in her arms and the words of an old song rang sadly through her head. 'He ain't heavy, he's my brother.'
"No, my Mom is there and she wouldn't exactly understand. Besides we need Giles for this. He has that small room that he uses for a wine cellar. It's cool and dark and there should be enough room to put the.........body."
Buffy choked on the last word then faced straight ahead and walked faster.
Willow stopped and covered her face. An overwhelming wave of sorrow nearly drove her to her knees, but, summoning the last shred of strength she could find, she took off at a jog and again caught up just as Buffy entered the lower courtyard at the rear of Giles small bungalow.
Standing back, she waited as Willow pounded on the door, shouting for Giles to come quickly and help. Almost immediately the lights came on and the door was jerked open.
Buffy? Wil........ Oh dear Lord. What happened? Quickly bring him in. How badly is he........" His question was cut short at the looks of resigned horror on both the women's faces. Gently, and lovingly, Buffy laid the body of her dear friend on the sofa in her Watcher's living room.
The soft lights, cozy fire and comfortable surroundings belied the horrible reality that had engulfed the room and it occupants. Willow sat on the floorbeside the man who had spent his whole life as her best friend, confidant,and protector. They had giggled together, whispered secrets, and shared both good times and bad.
She ran her hands down the front of his shirt smoothing out the wrinkles before placing his hands across his chest. She flinched at the cold stiffness in the hands that so recently held her's warmly. Willow laid her head down on his quiet heart and sobbed.
Giles body stood frozen with shock as he looked into the peaceful face of the young man he often thought of as a son. If it weren't for the pallor of the usually tan skin and the ugly, angry red wounds seeping on the side of his neck, he could have thought the boy was just sleeping.
"What happened? Was he on patrol? Did you kill the vampire that did this?"
Buffy began pacing the room, wringing her hands. Helpless was not a feeling she was able to cope with.
"I don't know why he was out there. I hadn't seen him for a few days so he wouldn't have known we were patrolling tonight. I don't think he would have gone out by himself but that's where he was. In the cemetery. Alone. Willow found him."
It took a few moments before Willow realized that the silence carried an expectation. They waited for her to explain how she had found him. What she saw. Any information that would fill in the huge gaps in their understanding of where things could have gone so wrong tonight.
Wiping her hand over her face only served to smear the tears and snot Willow hoped to remove. Sitting with her back to the couch and the body that lie there, she pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. She tried to clear her thoughts and answered their questions with a shake of her head.
"I don't know. Buffy and I had been out. We went to a movie, you know just a relaxing night out. On the way home she said we should make a quick sweep of the Long View cemetery cause it was on the way. There really hadn't been a lot of vampire activity lately but it never hurt to check, so, we did.
Anyway after about fifteen minutes, Buffy spotted a little gra'fl demon that was collecting mushrooms for it's dinner and she was teasing it, like she does."
Giles gave Buffy a disapproving scowl causing her to hang her head in shame. Willow ignored their interaction and continued with her story. Giles disgust and Buffy's shame couldn't even raise a blip on tonight's radar.
"So I walked away. I told her she was being mean and I didn't want to be any part of tormenting the little thing. It only wanted to feed it's family."
"We get your point Willow. Fine, I'm a bitch. Does that make you feel better?"
Giles placed a warning hand on Buffy's arm. He knew anger was her defense mechanism and the only way she was able to deal with defeat.
At the nod of Giles head, Willow continued. "So I was just wandering around the southern edge of the grave yard looking for newly dug or freshly disturbed graves but everything seemed quiet. I was headed over by that big angel statue cause there is a small bench next to it and I was just going to sit down and wait, that's when I saw it.
Over by the crypts I could see what looked like a body. I didn't recognize the clothes and I just walked over slowly, you know, looking all around to make sure what ever ate him was gone. When I didn't see or hear
anything I went up to him and rolled him over. That's when I saw his face."
All three went silent and looked at the face they had known so well. They half expected the practical joker to jump up laughing, pointing at them and doing the snoopy dance at the trick he had just played. But it didn't happen.
Giles pulled his glasses off and polished them absently, helping him think. "So neither of you know why he was out there?"
Both women shook their heads. Buffy's brow crinkled as she tried to remember the last time she had spoken to him.
"As a matter of fact I haven't seen him in almost a week. I guess I was busy and he was working so....."
Willow interrupted. "No, he wasn't. He lost that job and hadn't found another one. But I guess you were just too caught up in your own life to know that."
Buffy spun around, her fists clenched at her sides. "Me? What about you? You haven't exactly gone out of your way to spend time with him either. When was the last time you saw him? Huh? You didn't know he was going to be out there either."
Willow leaped to her feet and everything she had bottled up for the last ten years came spilling out unchecked.
"So you're saying this is my fault? He would still be alive if you had never come to Sunnydale. Right from the beginning you put his life in danger. You knew how he felt about you and you used that, and him.You used him as an errand boy, a gopher. Go for the donuts, go for the spell ingredients, go for the weapons, GO GET KILLED!"
Buffy's face turned beet red, furious at hearing all the ugly things that more than once had whispered their truths in her ear.
"That's a LIE!"
"STOP THIS!" Giles stomped his foot and shouted to be heard over the screeching, yelling women.
The room again fell into an uncomfortable silence.
Part Three
1:00 a.m. Saturday morning. Xander Harris has been dead for two hours.
The three mourners stood silently by, staring at the body they had just carried down and laid on the heavy butcher block table in the dark, cool, wine cellar.
Giles was so grief stricken that for once the thought of tea never even entered his mind.
"How did this happen? I don't understand. Why was he there? You said yourself that there has been almost no vampire activity in that cemetery for weeks. Xander was not stupid or careless yet look at his hands, they're clean. His clothes are not torn or damaged. He never fought back. It doesn't make sense."
"What if he was turned, Giles? Even as the slayer I don't think I could stake him. Isn't there some way we can know? Maybe we can do the spell. You know, with the orb and stick his soul back on. Can we keep him if we do? Can we, Giles?"
Giles head snapped around at the whining blond "Keep him? If he's been turned, he's a vicious killing vampire, Buffy. He's not some floppy haired puppy that's followed you home."
But that was the problem, because he was. He always had been. He was everything a puppy should be. Sweet, kind, helpful, loyal to a fault, and totally devoted to Buffy and her cause. Xander was a true white knight. He had lived and now died for a fight that should never have been his.
Overwhelmed, Giles backed away from the still, silent body. "I, um, I need to go check something. I'll be back. I'll........." Giles turned and climbed the steps, his shoulders slumped with the weight of the world pressing down on them. He needed space from the sight that broke his heart and filled his soul with guilt.
Willow, throughout this whole exchange had remained quiet, lost in her own thoughts. Thoughts she didn't want to express till she was certain that Giles was to far out of ear shot to hear.
"Buffy, do you remember your diamond tennis bracelet?"
Buffy shook her head. Her hand, that up till now had not stopped petting and stroking the chest and arms of her fallen friend, now stilled and she turned her face to Willow's. Even in the dim recesses of the small room, Buffy could see the resolve in the witches eyes.
"What? What the hell are you talking about? What does my bracelet have to do with Xander?"
Willow stepped closer but kept her voice low.
"Don't you remember? When you took it off last week, the clasp caught on your jacket and broke. You were so upset you cried for an hour. Then the next day when you got it out to take to the jewelers to be fixed, it was already repaired, remember?"
Buffy brow crinkled as the odd memory came back. "Sure, I just thought I had made a mistake and it wasn't broken after all. Why? What does that have to do with anything?"
Willow dropped her eyes from Buffy's, praying her friend would see the bigger picture in all this and not focusing on the smaller bits, like violating Giles orders of no unauthorized magic.
"Well, you were so upset that I thought maybe there was something I could do. So I did a spell."
"Willow!"
After checking the stairway for fear Giles had heard her shout, Willow hastened to explain.
"Shhh, Buffy. It was just a small one. It was sort of an experiment. I sent the bracelet back in time, just twenty-four hours, then brought it back. It was before you broke it so it was still intact."
Buffy's confusion was stead fast. Bracelet? Time travel? Doctor Who? "I don't get how that works." Suddenly her eyes lit up and it took all her self control not to squeal and dance, twirling Willow around till they were both dizzy.
"I get it. You just send Xander back to before tonight and he doesn't get killed, right? Oh God, Willow it's wonderful."
Unfortunately Willow was not sharing in the joy and enthusiasm and she put her hand on Buffy's arm in restraint.
"No. We can't do it that way. It only works on inanimate objects. It would kill a human to go through time like that. It would literally destroy every living cell in their body, so even though he is dead now, I don't think we couldn't bring him back alive. Our saving his life might kill him."
Buffy jerked her arm away from the physical contact angrily. "Then why did you even bring it up. What good does it do to know how you can't do it?"
Willow crossed her arms over her small body and slumped back against on of the heavy oak shelves that lined the walls of the basement.
"Because I need to know what happened. I need to know why he didn't fight back Why he was out there, who did this, and why none of us could find him in the last five days. I need the answers to all these questions. It would also tell us if he has been turned or not."
Buffy pushed a stray curl off Xander's forehead and combed her fingers through the thick brown hair that she remembered braiding one night during a sleep over. It was his concession to no lip gloss or nail polish. In the end he had looked in the mirror and laughingly said he liked it. It was a good look for him.
"I need to know what happened too. I need to know if he suffered." Buffy laid her head down on Xander's chest and the tears flowed hot and bitter.
Willow had now started pacing the short length of the room. Her brain whirled with electric activity as she mentally altered her spell to fit a scenario that no spell should fit.
Buffy sniffed, wiping her nose on Xander's shirt and she watched her friend knowing exactly what was happening. This was the time in the movie where Spanky and Alfalfa tell the gang that they are all going to put on a show and save the neighborhood from the wrecking ball.
"What are you thinking? What can we do?"
Willow rushed back to her side and put both hands on the sides of Buffy's face. "Listen, what we need is for someone to go back there. Spend the last five days with him and really find out what was going on with him. I don't know, maybe try to stop it from happening. I'm not sure if it would work or not but even if it doesn't, well, he'd be no worse off than he is right now, would he?"
A tiny spark of hope flickered like a pilot light deep down in her heart and Buffy breath quickened.
"How? Who? How?"
Willow scratched her head. "The way I see it, it will kill anyone we try to send. So logically we need to send someone who is already dead. Or, undead."
Buffy's eyes lit up. "Angel? I know Angel would do it for me. He's still in LA but I can call him and I know he would come back for this."
Willow stopped her. "No, we don't have time for that. Whoever goes, needs to go now, tonight. Besides, I don't trust Angel. He would go straight to Giles and stop us. No, we need to keep this totally undercover. Covert. CIA. I'm afraid we need Spike."
"NO! I refuse to ask him for anything! Shit, Willow, you know how he is."
Willow's lips turned up in a sly curl and she nodded. "I know exactly how he is and that's why he'll do it. He'll do it for you Buffy and do you know why? Because you are going to offer him anything he wants if he does. I don't care if you have to offer him the blow job of the century, you go over there and get him. Then you bring him back here and make sure he does what we want."
Buffy waivered, her face scrunched up in disgust. "Yeah, but a blow job? I never actually put one of those in my mouth before. I always kinda thought when I did it would be Angel's cause, well, it actually isn't very big and......"
"Oh for god's sake, Buffy, you're not going to really do it. You're just going to promise him you are. Now, I'm going home to get what I need and you go get Spike. We'll all meet back here as quick as we can."
Buffy relaxed and smiled."Oh, o.k. I can do that."
Willow and Buffy took one last glance at the body of their dear friend and brother before dashing up the dark stairway and into the well lit living room. Giles, who was lingering in the kitchen, heard the door slam behind them and, knowing he was alone, finally let his own tears fall.
Part Four
Spike took the last swallow from the stolen bottle of Jack Daniels and tossed it to the side, gaining small satisfaction from the sound of it smashing into glass shards against the crypt wall.
Looking around, he sneered at the filth and mess he had contented himself to live in. The carcasses of small dead animals lay scattered among the piles of trash and garbage stacked in every corner of the crypt he now called home.
When it all got to be too much, or when he sobered up enough to realize just how bad it had really gotten, he would move. By his estimation, he had ten more crypts in this particular cemetery to inhabit before he would have to move across town.
He had once tried finding a cleaning lady, but by the time he had dragged her, kicking and screaming, from the park where she had been jogging, he realized she probably wouldn't do a very good job.
So, he ate her. Bitch turned out to be one of those health nuts. Fuckin' blood tasted like wheat grass.
Spike shuddered at the memory. He then chuckled when the irony of it struck him that now instead of having a cleaner place to live, he just had another body to dispose of.
Luckily a clan of Fer-truffles were passing through the city in the sewer system. They had the body devoured within minutes and Spike's problem was solved. They had also sent him a lovely thank you basket
of mice and rabbits. The cycle of clutter was never ending.
Spike sat in the broken easy chair in the center of the crypt. One leg was thrown over the arm, the other stretched out straight. He ran his hand down over the front of his worn, black t-shirt to his tight, black, signature jeans and squeezed his soft cock. It had been days since he had sported decent wood.
Spike was miserable. He had walked the earth for 120 and was tired. He was tired of being alone, tired of being lonely, and tired of the boredom of having experienced all there was in the world to do. He had come to realize that there was nothing new waiting round the corner to surprise him and the depressing idea of "why go on" had begun to simmer and slide around the back of his brain.
He was nowhere near the facing the rising sun point yet, but he also knew if things didn't change soon, he was on the fast track to round the same bend Dru had travelled. Not a trip he really wanted to pack a valise for.
'Maybe a little danger would liven things up a bit.' He mused. 'What is the most dangerous thing I can do that won't require me to actually haul my white arse up out of this chair?'
Spike lowered his right leg from the chair arm and flopped the left one over. He tapped his fingers on his chin as he thought. A task made more difficult considering his advanced drunken state. He missed his face on the first two tries.
"I've got it!" Spike leaped to his feet and, with his hands clasped behind his back, began pacing the room. This was Sunnydale and what was the most dangerous thing a resident of the fine city of Sunnydale could do?
"I'll make a wish. I'll make a wish and then sit down and wait for some bizarre, catastrophic consequence to befall me."
Spike scratched his head trying to clear the alcoholic haze from his
brain but only succeeding in cracking the top layer of gel causing wild
blond tufts to sick up like horns.
Now came the real dilemma. What to wish for? It wasn't a decision that could be taken lightly. Once the words left his lips they couldn't be taken back. The fates rarely allowed do overs.
Spike walked purposefully, stomping his Doc Martins over the litter and broken glass that covered an inch thick layer of the dirt floor of the tomb.
He considered and rejected a hundred possible scenarios. Some as 'been there done that' and some because they just left too much wriggle room for fate to deal him a hand he might not recover from.
He paused as he began another circle around the stone slab that filled the space in the middle of the room. He knew what he really wanted. He knew his own hearts desire. Maybe that is what he should toss out there and see what boomerangs back.
He wanted adventure. He wanted excitement and most of all, he wanted someone to share that with.
Suddenly, he knew. He knew what he should wish for and even if he didn't get it, he was bound to break his boredom, at least for an hour or so.
He had made a decision and was ready to commit to it. He only regretted that he didn't have the candles on a birthday cake to blow out. It only seemed right.
Spike pulled the trusty lighter from his pocket and flicked it till the flame blazed high and steady. He held it up to his face, closed his eyes, and made the wish.
With a big puff of air, he blew it out.
Cautiously he opened his eyes, slightly surprised to see everything still the same as before. With a frown and a shrug, Spike stuck a cigarette in his mouth, lit it and staggered backwards till his legs hit the lazy chair and he dropped back down.
'Maybe it takes a while.' He pondered. 'Maybe there's a time lock on wishes tonight.'
Reaching under his chair, Spike pulled out a bottle of cheap wine and took a deep gulp. He wondered how long he would have to wait. He wondered how he would know.
Before he could count to ten, a small size six shoe slammed itself into the heavy stone door of the crypt and the slayer stormed in.
"SPIKE! You in here? Get your ass up and come with me. I'll do you a blow job but only after you let us send you back. Hurry up, we're short on time and he's already dead."
Spike flicked the still burning cigarette butt across the room and took one more swallow. Apparently he didn't have to wait long at all and if all of the incoherent babbling meant anything, this was the answer to his wish exactly.
"You'll do me a whot?"
Buffy snatched him by the back of the collar of his beloved black duster and dragged him to his feet. She had him out the door before his feet touched the ground.
"See here now. Whot's all this about? You can't be molesting a bloke like this without good reason. Now I believe we have us a blow job to discuss. Who's dead?"
Buffy continued to drag Spike through the graveyard at a speed only a vampire or a slayer could match, his tippy toes barely skimming the surface.
Ordinarily, at this point, Spike would have dug in his heels, causing them both to skid to an ungainly stop, and demanded a full explanation of where she was going and just why the fuck he was being hauled along.
He would have forced her to beg, bargain and barter.This time, however, his reaction was entirely different. Unexpected and surprisingly cooperative.
'After all,' he thought with a smile. 'Why fight it? It was my wish, wasn't it?'
Part Five
1:30 am Saturday morning. Xander Harris has been dead for two and a half hours.
Buffy had been running full speed for the last five minutes. Now, however, she skidded to a stop, dropped to a low crouch and slowly crept forward.
Spike immediately recognized the neighborhood as the Watcher's and was certain that was their destination. Why they were doing it on the sly remained to be seen. Although he had decided that even though all this was part of his consequence for the folly of wish making, Spike had also determined that it was time for a bit of an explanation.
"See here now, Slayer. I'm not going another step without a .... mfple purffle"
Buffy slapped her hand over the vampire's mouth and jerked him down into a clump of overgrown shrubs at the edge of the small brick court yard.
"Shhh!!! Get down!!"
Hearing the back door slam shut, Spike watched as Rupert Giles hurried down the three cement steps and off, disappearing into the early morning darkness.
Before Spike had the chance to express any other concerns, Buffy had again snatched him by the back of the long black leather coat and the rapid pace resumed.
Taking a moment to thank the Gods of vampire rules that Giles had once invited him in, Spike was thrust through the door way and unceremoniously pushed toward what he remembered to be a small cellar door.
With a firm smack of her hand between his shoulder blades, Buffy knocked him off balance.
Flailing wildly, Spike's feet went out from under him and he rolled clumsily down the narrow wooden staicase to land on the cracked cement floor in an undignified heap.
At the bottom of the dark, dank stairway, he was even more unsettled to find the redheaded witch waiting for them.
Apprehension tickled his spinal cord. Where the witch went, trouble followed. He regretted now that he had not had the foresight to include a nonwitch clause in his wish.
"I got him. How did you get rid of Giles?"
"I told him I needed certain spices to prepare the body. I sent him to the all night grocers across town for cinnamon and thyme."
It took only seconds for Spike enhanced vision to adjust to the darkness of the basement and he immediately zeroed in on the body lying on the slab in the center.
Ignoring the women's conversation he wandered over and instantly recognized the deceased. Donut boy. The Slayers pet. Xander fuckin' Harris.
Spike wasn't the least bit surprised. He had actually expected this long ago. The way the boy just threw himself into the fray with no skills, talents, or fighting ability whatsoever, it was amazing that he had lasted this long.
"So, Boy got himself eaten, huh? Must have been a nummy treat
after all. Hell, if I'd know he was on this evening's menu, I might have
had a bite or two myself."
Spike was spun around and his head snapped back with the force of the Slayers punch. Immediately he came back with a fist of his own and the two grappled, stumbling around an area barely big enough for the three of them to stand, let alone fight.
"APART!!"
Willow threw up her hands and, with the command, both combatants flew apart slamming backwards into the shelves causing the precious bottles of ancient wine to rattle against each other.
"Stop it! We are not here for your stupid, petty fights. We're here for Xander. Can't you act like adults for just five minutes?" Willow's stomped her foot and balled up her fists in frustrated fury.
"You're right. I'm sorry."
Buffy immediately calmed down and screwed her face up in a pseudo smile at the suspicious vampire. Flipping her hair, she batted her eyes demurely. "Sorry, Spike. I know you were just being your usual insensitive self. I
shouldn't have over reacted."
Spike cocked his head to the side and studied the Slayer distrustfully. He couldn't remember the last time she had ever apologized to him for anything. Wait a minute, yes he could. Never. That's when.
"Whot's all this about? Why am I here? Boy got himself killed. Nothing I can do about that. I may be a sex God, but I don't raise the dead, so I guess I'll just be on me way."
Spike started to ease his way back to the bottom of the steps when quicker than a bunny, the witch stepped between him and his avenue of escape. Spike involuntarily leaped back.
"Look, Spike. Just give us a few minutes to explain, then if you refuse, you're free to go. As you can see, we really have a situation on our hands and we need your help. In fact, you are the only one who can help us. It's kind of complicated and sort of time travely, but I know a little thing like that is nothing to a big strong, brave master vampire like you."
Spike wasn't stupid. Willow was not the one to piss off. His decided his best bet was to pretend to go along with whatever bizarre scheme she had cooked up then make a run for it. He just couldn't imagine how all this related to his wish.
"Whot about me blow job? Do I still get me blow job?"
Willow turned to Buffy, waiting on a promise, a confirmation, something to appease the vampire.
"Buffy?"
"What?"
"Tell him?"
"What?"
Spike ignored the bickering going on behind him and wandered over to where the boy's body was stretched out, silent and still. It seemed strange to see the boy and not hear his inane babbling and stuttering.
Truth was he didn't like or hate the boy. He just never really considered him one way or the other. No wonder something had gobbled him up, he always smelled like fresh cookies baking in an oven. Apparently the boy's pheromones knew no gender or species. He smelled of arousal 24/7. A true demon magnet.
The two women continued to quibble. "You did offer, didn't you?"
"I told you I would, but Spike understands that it is for AFTER."
"But a promise is a promise."
Spike had never really looked at the boy before for fear that the mismatched garish clothes he wore might cause the vampire's eyeballs to explode and fly from his head.
Now, however he took the time to stare. Surprisingly, the boy had a nice body. Slimmer, with most of the teenage baby fat out grown. Firm from the exertion of hand to demon combat, and from the size of the bulge in his Goodwill second hand pants, a nice bit 'o meat.
"I think he would be more cooperative if you reiterated the blow job offer."
"You know what? I think you should offer one too. Kind of a show of confidence and solidarity."
"I really don't think Spike is interested in me blowing him. You're the one he has the crush on."
Spike circled around Xander's head and looked closely at the red, deep, puncture wounds. Leaning down he sniffed them then allowed his tongue to dart out experimentally. The second the pink tip touched the bite marks, Spike leaped back in shocked, confused horror.
"I'll do it."
The two women who had almost forgotten they were not alone, immediately stopped quarreling and looked in his direction.
Buffy shook her head. "You will? You promise? Was that with or without the blow job?"
Willow slapped her arm. Time was running. "Great. Here's what we need you to do."
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