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Kantayra
Author's Notes: Ah, a brand new smutty saga...how exiting... Just so you know the setting. This occurs after S5, but I kinda assume that Buffy didn't die. Come up with your own generic and overly-used explanation for how this is. My personal fave: Buffy has the common sense to notice that Dawn's bleeding and wipes up the blood before it opens the portal. I mean, how obvious was that anyway? Everything else should be pretty straight forward. Enjoy the start of some new Spuffy goodness... ^_^
Summary: For over a year Spike's dreamed of Buffy, so what happens when he's finally offered her...at a terrible price?
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy, Spike, or any other BtVS characters that might appear in this story. They all belonged to a bunch of crazed clowns that call themselves Mutant Enemy because they think that sounds more respectable. Like I said: crazed clowns. ~_^ we’ll be able to work out a suitable…arrangement…”
Dawn finally awoke, feeling as if she’d slept for days. For a long time, she just lay there, curled up against the comforting form of her surrogate big brother, listening to him talk softly to whoever was on the other end of the phone. He was obviously trying to carry on an argument while simultaneously trying not to wake her.
Dawn smiled slightly at the way his voice abruptly cut off every time before it went into ‘yell’ mode, before she finally decided to take pity on him. With a long yawn, she opened her eyes and gave him a curious look.
He gave her an apologetic smile before taking instant advantage of her new awakened state to scream into the receiver. “There. Is. A. Spell!” he exclaimed, flabbergasted. “The whole bloody town’s out! No one’s standin’ around, waitin’ to give you their precious money!”
Ah, that would be Anya at the other end then…
He paused for a second before he rolled his eyes for Dawn’s benefit. “Fine, fine,” he sighed in exasperation, “we’ll put your bleedin’ website up on th’ door, jus’ in case someone wants to order…” Another brief pause. “No, Dawn is not available to run the damn shop! What part of ‘evil spell’ are you not gettin’, Anyanka?”
Spike’s expression eased, and Dawn guessed that Anya’s capitalist instincts were finally giving way.
“Yes, we’ll put up the sign,” he insisted. Pause. “Soon.” Another pause. Another eye roll. “Real soon,” he stressed. “I promise.” Pause. “Fine, on my unbeatin’ heart.” Sigh of irritation. “By the scrolls of Xanthanar,” he agreed. “Look, ‘ve got to get hold of the Watcher, like now,” he said before Anya could make him put up his duster as collateral or something else equally as horrible. “We’ll keep an eye on the wares. Ta.”
He pressed the off button even as Dawn heard Anya prattling on through the receiver once more.
Spike let his head fall backwards against the headboard of the bed a couple of times in frustration.
Dawn tisked him lightly. “Trying to negotiate with Anya,” she said, shaking her head. “Don’t you know better by now?”
He sighed and glanced nervously at the phone as if Anya were about to leap out of it and chew him out for whatever capital gains losses she might incur this quarter. “’ad to warn her, din’t I?” he insisted. “She an’ the Whelp were comin’ back today…”
“You think the spell would’ve kicked in on Anya?” Dawn asked curiously.
“I ‘ave no bleedin’ clue what the spell would’ve done, but the last thing I need is to save the Demon Bint, too…”
“Haven’t you called Giles yet?” she demanded. “Doesn’t he know how to break the spell? Why can’t you just break it for everyone like you did for me? Why—?”
“Nibblet, please,” he cut her off and closed his eyes, rubbing at the pulsing vein on his temple with one hand.
She bit her lip and got a bit teary-eyed.
“Oh, not like that, Sweet Bit,” he said, instantly apologetic. “’S just…’ve got so much to worry ‘bout, an’…”
“It’s OK,” Dawn sniffled a little bit. “I’ll just stay out of your way then, so you can do whatever it is you have to do, and—”
“Oh, fine!” Spike rolled his eyes. “You can help.”
“Really?!” She bounced on the mattress in delight.
“Really,” Spike repeated, cursing those big green puppy-dog eyes of hers.
“This is so cool!” Dawn exclaimed, giving him an impulsive hug.
“Yeah, yeah.” Spike was very annoyed to discover that he had subconsciously begun purring when she hugged him. It was, unfortunately, one of those reactions that he couldn’t control.
She at least had the decency not to refer to his embarrassing state. “So, what do I do?” she asked, bright-eyed and ready to go.
“Recovered quickly from our trauma, did we?” he teased lightly before handing her the phone. “Here,” he said. “Call the Watcher. Let ‘im know everythin’ you remember. Make sure the Witches don’ come back until we know ‘s safe.”
“And what are you gonna do?” Dawn asked curiously.
“Sleep,” he insisted, snatching the blanket out from under her and wrapping it around himself. “Bleedin’ uncivilized hour ta be up…” he grumbled under his breath, burying his face in the pillow and closing his eyes.
“It’s ten in the morning,” she pointed out.
“Uncivilized for a vampire,” he clarified before shutting his eyes again.
She watched him for a second as he tried to sleep, then shrugged at hit Giles’ home number on the speed dial.
Her fingers played idly with the sheets on Spike’s bed while the phone rang one, two, three, four times.
“’lo?” The sleepy voice just barely beat the fifth ring.
“Hi, Giles!” Dawn said cheerfully.
“D-Dawn?” he said, confused for a second. Then, angrily: “Do you have any idea what time it is here?!”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s not that late,” she insisted, “unless you were doing something icky I don’t want to hear about…”
“Dawn,” he managed in his sternest voice, “this is a very bad time. Call back later.”
“Sure,” she commented off-handedly. “I just wanted to let you know that Buffy had her tongue down Spike’s throat last night, but since you’re so busy and all…” She trailed off and held the receiver away from her ear while she giggled.
“What?!” Giles’ voice exclaimed in pure, unadulterated horror. “Dawn, Dawn are you there?!”
She took her time putting the phone back to her ear. “Yeah?” she said disinterestedly.
“What did you just say?” he demanded.
“Buffy had her tongue down Spike’s throat,” she repeated clearly and concisely. “She might’ve had her hand in his pants, too, but I couldn’t really see from the angle, and—”
“Dawn, you fully have my attention now,” Giles assured her. “Now, please, tell me it’s just a spell.”
“It’s just a spell,” she informed him. “Get this; you will so not believe it…”
Spike listened half-heartedly as Dawn catalogued the events of the past few days, mildly bemused when her story reached the point where he arrived. It was nice to know that someone appreciated him, even if it did hamper his image as an evil creature of the night to be running off to be his Bit’s knight in shinning armor all the time…
He flinched inwardly at Dawn’s description of Cuddly-Sex-Kitten-Buffy pawing all over him, the memories still far too tempting in his mind. And, maybe the Nibblet hadn’t seen clearly, but, yes, her hand had gotten inside his jeans, and the way she had begun to slowly stroke him up and down…
“I don’t know,” Dawn commented into the receiver. “Hey, Spike,” she turned to him, “how do you spell ‘Rhitias’?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, Sweetness,” he shrugged disinterestedly.
“Um…how about R-I-T-Y-U-S?” Dawn suggested.
Spike sighed. “OK, so maybe my guess is slightly better…”
She stuck her tongue out at him and held out the phone to him. “You talk to Giles then, if you’re so smart,” she countered.
He found the phone thrust into his hands before he could protest. “Yeah, er, so, um, Rupert…” he began.
He tossed the phone onto the far side of the bed as if it were a cross when a stream of enraged, British invective exploded from the receiver. Dawn giggled at him as he put the pillow over his head to block out the noise.
He swore these people had to be the most inconsiderate lots of whelps in the world. I mean, vampire hearing? How hard is that to remember?
Of course, maybe their goal was to make him go deaf by the ripe young age of four hundred…
“…And if I find out you’re touched Buffy in any way, so help me, Spike, you will find out just how painful it is to have every limb ripped from your body one at a time. And I’m sure you can guess where I’ll start!” Giles’ tirade finished on the other end.
Spike flinched at the mental image and cautiously picked up the receiver. “Din’t touch ‘er,” he sulked slightly, enjoying a mild pity party for how unappreciated all his hard sacrifices really were.
“I meant every word of it, Spike.” Oh yeah, Ripper was out it full force today…
“Yeah, right,” Spike rolled his eyes, taking full advantage of all the oceans and continents currently separating himself from Giles’ wrath. “So, what d’you know ‘bout this spell?”
Giles let out a weary sigh and somehow managed to convey over the phone that he was cleaning his glasses. “Frankly,” he admitted, “I’ve never heard of anything like it.”
“Me neither,” Spike agreed. “An’ somethin’ this big… It would’ve gotten out.”
“So this is probably a larger scale than this Rhitias has ever tried before,” Giles agreed.
“Can I use that to my advantage?” Spike demanded, batting Dawn away from his journal.
She evaded his grasp and snatched up the notebook defiantly, flipping through it at the edge of the bed, just out of his reach.
“It’s too early to tell yet,” Giles decided. “I’ll get Willow and Tara to help me research it. In the meantime, your priority must be to keep Buffy and Dawn as safe as possible.”
“No one’s gettin’ my Bit away from me,” Spike growled possessively. “Buffy, though…”
“Find a way to get to her,” Giles’ voice barely concealed the pleading tone at the plight of the woman he thought of as his daughter. “If that…monster touches her…”
Spike had no doubt it would be ten times worse that what Giles had just threatened to do to him. He wouldn’t get a chance, though, because Spike would have tortured the demon to the point where he couldn’t even remember his name by then.
He expressed this view to Giles, and the former Watcher seemed to approve.
“Here,” Spike finally said, halting Dawn’s chuckles as she went through his personal, private thoughts. “Watcher wants ta talk to you again.”
Dawn put down the journal, stuck her tongue out at Spike when he swapped it from her lap, and began talking to Giles again.
“No, I’m fine. Really,” she insisted. Pause. “I’ve got the bleached wonder taking care of me.” Eye roll. “Yeah, he’s got me cooped up in that musty old crypt of his.” Longer pause. Slight trembling of the lip before strength and resolve took over her face once more. That’s my Bit… “Nah,” she batted one hand in the air dismissively, “aside from the pure ‘ew’ factor of now being the sexual property of my babysitter, it’s cool.” A breath. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. You, too. Yes, I’ll tell him. Bye!” She hit the off button and moved to lie back down beside Spike.
“I am not your babysitter!” he huffed.
“Yeah,” Dawn smiled, pillowing her head against his shoulder, “more like the baby.”
“Oi!”
“And you never told me Buffy kissed you,” she accused, gesturing to the notebook now on the bedside table.
“Er, that was just…creative writing?” he suggested nervously.
She gave him an incredulous look.
“Oh, bugger!” He rolled his eyes heavenwards even though he knew he wouldn’t find any help in that direction. “Was just a li’l peck,” he insisted.
“Two.”
“All right, two.”
“On the lips.”
“Bit,” he sighed, “’was after that whole gettin’ tortured by Glory bit, an’ then after I fell off that tower for you. Jus’ kinda…repayment, thanks… Y’know?”
“Buffy’s whoring herself off for your help?” Dawn teased.
“’S not like that!” he protested. “You’re twistin’ my words again, an’ you’re doin’ it on purpose!”
She gave him a smug smile but then bit her lower lip nervously. “You’re worried about her, aren’t you?” she asked softly.
“Very much, Morsel.”
“Me, too,” Dawn admitted softly. “Spike?”
“Yeah?”
“How are we going to get her back?”
“Don’ know, princess. Don’ know…”
* * *
Of course, the one thing Spike hadn’t taken into consideration when he’d said that to Dawn was the fact that the universe took every opportunity given it to completely screw him over. It came that evening in the form of one of Rhitias’ ‘associates’, a leggy brunette that obviously wouldn’t be caught dead with the greasy little demon were she in full possession of her faculties.
Her message was brief, but strange.
Soon he – and a Dawn in ‘pretend slave’ motif – arrived at Buffy’s home on Revello Drive to discuss the ‘business’ matter that Rhitias insisted was so pressing.
Spike had no doubt who exactly awaited him the other side of the door – other than Rhitias, that was – and mentally braced himself for what he would find inside.
It wasn’t enough.
Buffy was wearing the essential equivalent to a red thong bikini. A black button down shirt hung from her elbows, barely on and exactly in the style he liked. In fact, if he hadn’t known better, he would have thought it had been purloined from his dresser.
It was her location that got to him, however. She was leaning back against the stairs, one of her feet curving around the banister railing at the bottom of the steps, the fingers of one hand toying playfully with a lock of her golden hair.
Now, certain of his favorite fantasies involved the two of them, that night before the final battle with Glory when she’d stood right where she was now and invited him back in, her immediate desire thereafter to find out just how much of a ‘man’ he really was, and many hours of bliss spent together right on those stairs.
He bit his tongue and tried to think the least sexy thoughts he could. Once he got down to Xander and Angel wearing nothing but Speedos in bed together, he decided he could just take one more peek at Buffy to recover from that particularly repulsive mental image, and then had to start all over again.
“Ah, Spike,” Rhitias said in delight, rising from the living room couch. “Such a delight to see you again.”
“Mutual.” Spike didn’t think he’d ever spouted a bigger lie in all his life.
“How’s the girl turning out?” he asked curiously, gesturing in Dawn’s direction. “Er…” he struggled for a name.
“Dawn,” Spike provided.
“Yes, Dawn.” Rhitias noticed her conservative attire and gave Spike a quizzical look.
“Don’ like jus’ anyone oglin’ my women,” he explained quickly. After all, it was the truth…
“Ah,” Rhitias nodded in acknowledgement. “Come, sit down. I have a business proposition I’d like to discuss with you.”
Spike managed to pull himself away from the lure of Nearly-Naked-Buffy-On-Staircase and sat down in the armchair across from the demon.
Dawn, for her part, did a very good job playing the meek, little servant and leaned against the doorframe to the kitchen, waiting.
“Talk,” Spike went for the direct, lighting up the cigarette between his lips.
“I believe I am still correct in thinking that you are interested in our lovely young Slayer here?” Rhitias took the roundabout route, gesturing to Buffy.
“Maybe.”
“Then you’re the perfect choice for this mission,” Rhitias said in delight.
“ ‘Mission’?”
Rhitias nodded solemnly. “As I’m sure you’ve noticed, not even my estates are large enough to provide accommodations for all my girls…”
“And?” Spike was hoping the bad ass, one-word-reply thing would eventually have some effect.
“Well, they’ve all got homes of their own, you see,” the demon explained, “so I can just save on the space and let them live at home.”
“Yeah?” It didn’t look like the demon was even noticing.
“The Slayer is one of those I’d like to stay at home. Less fuss that way, you see. Unfortunately, this means that I can’t keep an eye on her. I’ll need someone to be here in my absence…just in case, of course,” he finished.
“An’ you want me ta do it?” Spike asked in disbelief. “Bloody ‘ell! You already know I want ta sample the wares, mate!”
“You would be compensated for your work, of course,” Rhitias agreed. “Buffy, dear?” he called her over. “I find,” he informed Spike as Buffy settled up against his side, “that exclusive privilege is an excellent motivating factor for keeping my girls well-guarded.”
He gestured for Buffy to go over to Spike, and before he could protest, he had himself a lap full of squirming, kittenish Slayer.
“Uh-huh,” Spike said, half in a daze.
“It’s only until the auction,” Rhitias assured him. “Then someone else will take the Slayer off your hands…unless you purchase her, of course.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So, you’ll agree to it then?” Rhitias said with a satisfied smile on his face.
This should keep the volatile vampire out of my hair until the auction…
“Uh-huh,” Spike nodded numbly, mesmerized by the way her long, golden hair curtained her face as she looked down at him with that mischievous look in her eyes.
“Excellent! I’ll be leaving you two…three,” he amended when he remembered Dawn, “to get acquainted then.”
The implications of what he’d just agreed to finally reached Spike’s brain. “Don’ I get a key for this one, too?” he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful. If he could get the Slayer back to her fighting self again…
“Sorry,” Rhitias said with a small smile, “that’s only for final purchases.” He took the arm of the brunette that had led Spike there. “Good luck, then,” he said with a final wave as he walked out the door, “and enjoy.”
He shut the door, and then Buffy was on Spike in full force, her lips demanding against his…