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Kantayra
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy, Spike, Dawn, or Anya. They're all Joss'. Everyone else, though - those're mine. ~_^ I'd also like to credit the movies 'The Shinning' and 'Clue', as well as two episodes of Star Trek TOS that helped inspire this plot. (Don't ask. ^_^)
Summary: Seven years ago, Spike fled Sunnydale and his abusive relationship with Buffy. Now, he and still-best-friend Dawn are working together in their own demon hunting agency. However, everything changes when they're called out to investigate a chain of supernatural murders at Cascade Mountain Lodge and discover that Buffy's on the case as well. Will they be able to solve the mystery before they become the next casualties? And what does the solution have to do with the events of seven years ago?
Author's Note: Hey, it's the beginning of a new Spuffy saga! Yes, this one will be rated NC17 eventually. (Aren't they all?) And, yes, I am doing the infamous 'Buffy and Spike in a haunted house' theme, but I'm hoping it will be quite different from all the others out there. However, I do want to warn people that some parts of this will be a bit darker than some of my other sagas. This story assumes that everything through the S6 episode 'Dead Things' occurred, and it deals heavily with the events of that episode - hence, the darkness. Just wait it out, don't trust anything you see, and trust me that things will turn out all right in the end. ~_^
Buffy’s eyes blearily fluttered open. For some reason, she felt terribly tired – exhausted, in fact. Her throat felt quite parched, and her entire body ached. She managed a weary groan and rolled over onto her back, tensing at the stiffness and bruising.
“You awake, luv?” The soft-spoken words sounded concerned, but above all…scared?
“Spike?” She turned her head to see him slumping back in the armchair beside her bed, looking tense as all hell. “What—?” she began, before it all came back to her.
He seemed to sense the moment when she remembered and ducked his head dejectedly. “’ll get Dawn to come tell you all about it,” he mumbled softly, getting up and moving to leave.
“Spike?” Her voice still sounded a bit gravelly from the trauma her throat had received, but it wasn’t really all that painful anymore. Go, go, Slayer healing.
He looked down at her. “Sorry ‘bout all that,” he ventured. “I mean with the…” He trailed off, embarrassed.
“Trying to kill me?” she suggested with a wry smile.
“Yeah, that,” he agreed. “’ll just—”
A soft, warm hand circling his wrist brought him to an abrupt halt. “Stay?” Buffy requested softly, shimmering hope in her eyes.
He gulped, feeling himself drowning in those hazel pools all over again. “You’re sure you want me to…?”
“I think we established pretty well that I want all of you,” she agreed shyly. “Stay with me?” she repeated, pulling him down to sit on the bed beside her.
A look of relief passed over his features. “Was afraid you’d want me gone,” he confessed softly, stretching out on the mattress beside her and sighing contentedly when she rested her head in the crook of his shoulder.
“Tell me all about it,” she asked hopefully.
“Sure you don’t want anything?” he insisted first. “You were out for two days. Must be hungry.”
Buffy groaned in disbelief. “Two days? You really did a number on me…” Then the second point registered. “I suppose room service is still out of order?” she pouted.
He chuckled. “Look around, luv,” he countered. “Got ourselves a nice, normal motel, complete with every amenity.” He picked up the phone. “May not be so fancy, but at least nothing’s tryin’ to kill us.”
“The novelty,” she teased. Grinning, she began to trace the seam of his jeans along his outer thigh as he ordered, fingers playing absentmindedly with the dark fabric. For a second, it seemed almost as though that day hadn’t occurred and she’d just woken up after their afternoon of passion together. The persistent ache in her ribcage and the way Spike was nervously running his fingers through his hair belied this fact, however.
It was strange, in a way. At that moment she wanted nothing more than for things to go back to the way they had before the Haunting had possessed her. She had nearly died, true, but that didn’t really seem important to her anymore. All that mattered was not losing the best thing she’d ever had in her life. It was an odd feeling for her to forgive so easily – especially when it was Spike that she was forgiving – but everything felt simpler this way, like a load had been lifted from her shoulders…
Spike hung up the phone. “They say it’ll be about fifteen minutes,” he informed her.
She patted the pillow beside her head, indicating that he should join her. “Just enough time for you to tell me everything that’s been happening,” she concluded.
He settled down beside her again, face only inches from hers. A small smile lit up her face as he shifted uncomfortably. She opened up her arms to him, and he hesitated for a second before burying himself in her embrace, nuzzling the scars on her throat affectionately and body shaking with emotion.
“God, ‘m so sorry, luv,” he pleaded against her warm flesh. “I-I didn’t… I mean, I did, but… Oh god, you’re all right, luv…and ‘m so, so sorry, and—”
“Shh,” she soothed him, arms tightening around his back in a soft squeeze as she planted a kiss on the crown of his head. “It’s all right. I’m completely over it.”
“But I—” He looked up at her to protest.
One fingertip landed on his full lower lip, silencing him. “I know,” she agreed. “A part of it was you. After what the Haunting made me say, you were angry and upset, and somewhere deep down inside some part of you probably did want to kill me.”
He nodded, ashamed.
“I think that was how the Haunting toyed with us,” she said reassuringly. “It did the same thing to me. It took all my darker thoughts and feelings, and it…magnified them somehow. Like, they suddenly consumed me, and I couldn’t…” She stroked his cheek softly. “I couldn’t tell you how much I loved you, no matter how hard I tried.”
“My love,” he agreed, his voice barely a whisper. “I… I’m not like that,” he finally concluded helplessly.
“And I’m not, either,” she insisted. “Back when…” She had to take a deep breath to continue that sentence, but she forced it out anyway. “Back in that alley,” she tried again, “what happened was…”
He hushed her. “I know. Saw the worst of you that night. Didn’t like it, but it didn’t make me stop loving you, no matter how much I wanted to…”
“Yeah, well, that’s sort of how I see the you-trying-to-kill-me mess,” she informed him. “Yeah, it’s a dark part of you, but it’s still a part, and…nothing the Haunting brought out in you could ever make me stop loving you, either.”
A wry chuckle escaped his lips. “God, we’re warped.”
“Yup,” she agreed with a smile, popping the ‘P’, “but we’re pretty good when we’re warped together.”
“The best,” he agreed fervently, lips venturing to press against her brow.
Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she smiled. “So, here’s the deal,” she concluded. “You don’t hit me anymore, and I don’t hit you anymore, and instead we both screw each other silly.”
He laughed aloud at that, his face lighting up with the force of his smile and little crinkles forming at the edges of his eyes. Buffy giggled as well, still fascinated with watching him laugh. It was still a novelty to her, something unusual and a bit alien, but beautiful nonetheless.
“What?” he asked curiously, head tilted to one side when he noticed her studying him.
“You’re beautiful when you’re happy,” she said simply, finally venturing to close the distance between them and plant her lips on his.
Their eyes both remained open for a second, each intent on remembering the other’s appearance in this moment, before Spike’s long eyelashes finally fluttered closed and he gave himself over to making love to her lips.
Buffy moaned at the soft little nibbles he graced her lips with, shutting her eyes as well. His hand came around to cradle the back of her head, holding her in place as he poured his passion into her mouth. Eagerly, she parted her lips against him, inviting him inside her. He took her up on her offer almost instantly, and the two began a slow, sensual dance.
Her hands fell to his waist, sliding up the fabric of his black t-shirt before they slipped beneath to feel the cool flesh on the bump of each vertebra.
He purred at the touch, amazed as always at how she uncovered the places on his body that brought him the most pleasure. His fingers moved to her neck in response, an odd mockery of their battle before, but this time instead of inflicting pain, he inflicted pleasure. His fingertips danced over her scar, allowing them brief catches of each other’s thoughts as they moved together.
Love you.
Love you, too.
Never wanted to hurt you.
Missed you so much when you were gone.
Wish I couldn’t hurt you still. Actually wish I had the sodding chip.
You don’t need it.
I’m afraid.
You don’t need to be. I know you’re a good man.
Do you also know that I’ll never leave you?
It’s part of why I love you.
It’s part of why I love you.
I want to feel you.
I want to…
A knock at the door.
They pulled apart with a gasp for air. “Bugger,” Spike grumbled. “That’ll be your food.”
“Okay, bad timing with the interrupting the nice kissage, but good timing with the tummy growling,” Buffy sighed, lying back down against the covers.
He rose to answer the door. “Old Spike’ll fix that,” he teased lightly.
“With his crafty calling-room-service skills?” she countered sarcastically.
He huffed. “’m under-appreciated is what I am,” he retorted good-naturedly.
She smiled softly and watched him reach for the doorknob. “Promise me something first,” she interjected abruptly.
He paused at the sound of the second knock. “Yeah?” he asked curiously.
“Promise me that the Haunting’s gone,” she insisted. “Promise me that from now on, whatever happens between us is just between us, that we don’t allow anything but ourselves to factor into the matter again.”
It was a terrifying prospect, and they both knew it. Just the two of them, no supernatural excuses or telepathic incursions to blame, just raw feelings, working things out together.
“All right, pet,” he agreed, softly opening the door.
Small smiles curved both their lips. It was a terrifying prospect, true, but exhilarating at the same time…
* * *
“It’s always been a part of me I’ve tried to deny,” Dawn finally admitted softly, curling her sated, naked body into that of the man beside her.
“Because it hurt so many people you care about?” Rick inquired, looking down at her with red, demonic eyes. It still astounded him that she could look right into his eyes and smile, as if they were something beautiful, something he didn’t need to be ashamed of…
She nodded softly. “I-I never thought… Why do you think the Key protected us?” she asked the question that had been puzzling her ever since it had first been revealed to her.
“An opposing magical force of some sort, I can only suppose,” Rick countered with a shrug.
“But why now?” she demanded. “Why have I lived all these years without the slightest sign that I’m something other than human, and then…” She trailed off with a frustrated sigh.
“We certainly needed its help,” Rick countered. “Without its power, we would have perished.”
“I’m not sure whether to be glad it saved us or pissed that it had to remind me about all of this crap,” Dawn commented, playing absentmindedly with one flat, darkened male nipple.
He pressed a soft kiss to her silky hair. “Be glad,” he advised her. “We are still here, together, and the Haunting is finally gone.”
“Yeah, but being made up of a power just like the Haunting tends to rain on the parade a bit,” she countered.
“Perhaps,” he commented, “or perhaps…”
“What?” she asked, looking up at him curiously.
“Your power did not seem the same as the Haunting’s so much as…opposite,” he explained.
“How so?”
“They seemed to clash, like two opposite forces repelling each other,” he clarified.
She thought upon that for a minute. “The Key has the power to destroy worlds…”
“But that does not mean that that is what it is,” Rick countered. “In fact, to me—” he cut off abruptly.
Dawn cocked her head at him curiously. “What?” she demanded with a little smile.
“To me,” he began slowly, “the Haunting was anger, despair, hatred. But the Key in you…it is everything opposite: joy, hope, love…” His cheeks flushed slightly. “To me, at least,” he mumbled, embarrassed.
A smile slowly lit up her face, and she reached up to press her lips to his. “You’re the most wonderful man I’ve met,” she concluded.
“And you are the most wonderful woman I have met,” he agreed, his accent thick with emotion, “human or no.”
“Human or no,” Dawn agreed before kissing him once more…
* * *
“I’m perfectly capable of eating by myself,” Buffy giggled, nibbling at the apple slice between his fingers anyway.
“Yeah, but you got to play nursemaid to me,” he countered. “’S my turn now.”
“Ooh, nursemaid,” she teased. “Does this mean I get to see you in one of those cute little white uniforms with the miniskirt?”
He scowled at her. “Ha-bloody-ha,” he retorted, placing another apple slice between her lips to silence her.
She munched on it, amused.
“’Sides,” he added with a little leer, “’m not wearing a thing until you do.”
She frowned at the ultimatum and pushed the food tray aside. “Be careful, or I’ll hold you up to that promise,” she joked.
“Be careful, or ‘ll keep that promise,” he teased right back, taking advantage of the fact that the tray was no longer between them to nip gently at her shoulder.
“You’re really annoying, you know that?” she demanded, settling back down into his arms once more. This felt nice – quipping and teasing each other once more, only this time while touching and kissing as well… She suddenly couldn’t imagine why she hadn’t done this long ago.
“Yeah, but you love me,” he shot back, fingers sliding the fabric of her blouse down to better facilitate his mouth. “And you don’t love the Gel King,” he added in obvious delight. “Common sense, really. Any smart bird would realize that—”
She groaned, cutting him off. “I can already see that I shouldn’t have told you about the Angel thing,” she complained. “Just what I need: an out of control vampire ego.”
“Y’know,” he went on, completely ignoring her complaint, “I normally wouldn’t condone that poofter touchin’ my girl, but ‘s a pity really that you didn’t get a chance to scream out my name at some opportune time.” He lay back and sighed at the pleasant thought.
She scowled at him. “So I love you. Not Angel. We get the picture already. And we’re starting to wonder exactly why I love you in the first place.”
His expression softened, and he nibbled her ear apologetically. “Sorry ‘bout that, kitten. ‘S just that…no one’s ever chosen me, y’know?” There was an embarrassed vulnerability in his voice, as if even confessing these emotions to her was a strain given his normal cool persona.
“Yeah, well, I do,” she insisted, fingers curling into his platinum spiky hair. “It took me a really long time to realize it, but…” She shrugged.
“Picked a bloody good time to figure it out, though,” he countered with a smirk.
“Yeah, well… I guess I could delude myself into thinking that I really wanted Angel, until I got smacked in the face with it,” she concluded. “Some part of me found it easier to cling to the impossible rather than admit that I’d driven away the man I loved.”
“You didn’t drive me away,” he insisted. “I-I went because Dawn needed me to…and maybe I think we both needed me to go, too.” A gulp and one of those bobs of his Adam’s Apple that Buffy found so mesmerizing. “Never really lost me, though.”
Her lips came to rest on the fascinating feature, and her tongue played lightly along the column of his throat. She smiled at the purr that escaped his chest, rich and deep and sending delightful tinglies all the way down to her toes. “It felt like I lost you,” she countered. “Like I’d finally blown it and was all alone.”
“I…” he trailed off abruptly. “C’mere, luv,” he said insisted, pulling her body atop his and holding her close. It seemed like no matter how intimate the two of them got, it was never enough for him. Like it really would take an eternity for him to grow tired of her…
“What were you going to say?” she inquired softly.
He gulped. “Shouldn’t say this,” he muttered half to himself.
“You can tell me anything,” she encouraged him.
He let out a weary sigh. “Kinda had this foolish hope for a while.” His voice was barely a whisper, and he was playing with the hem of her blouse so that he didn’t have to look into her eyes. “After I left, I mean. Thought that maybe you’d realize that I meant something to you after all, and…” He trailed off abruptly.
Buffy’s eyes widened. Spike getting choked up? With tears in his eyes? Fighting them back? “Shh, now,” she quickly turned to comfort him. “You don’t have to—”
He persisted doggedly, the mere challenge that this was too difficult for him to handle spurring him on. “Had this fantasy…that maybe you’d come after me.”
Buffy froze at that, tears stinging her own eyes. “I’m sorry,” she whispered against his hair. “If it helps at all, I did realize…but it was years too late by then, baby.”
“’S nothing,” he insisted, trying to brush it off, affecting the Big Bad persona once more.
His fallback defense. Buffy came to see that more and more clearly. “No, it is,” she insisted. “And I wish I could have found you, but… Well, at least, we met up here.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, ‘cause the bleedin’ Haunting wanted to use you to fuck me over.”
Buffy frowned at that. “You’re kidding?” she asked hopefully.
“Soddin’ witch that ran the place brought us all together solely for that farce,” he informed her of some of what she’d missed.
“And here I thought it was fate. That’s kind of a downer.”
“Tell me about it,” he agreed. “When I saw you in that lobby…” He trailed off, embarrassed once more.
“You thought I’d finally come for you?” Buffy ventured softly.
“Was silly,” he insisted.
“No, you weren’t,” she countered vehemently. “Spike, I didn’t know where to find you, but…” She scanned the motel room around them and spotted her bag in the corner. “Let me show you something,” she insisted, getting up off the bed on shaky legs and padding over to the suitcase. She quickly found the small tin box she was looking for and returned with it to the bed. “I found you the only way I could,” she said simply before a sly smile crossed her face. “Just to show that you’re not the only ‘pathetic wanker’ out there.”
He rolled his eyes at her hideous accent and opened the box curiously. “You’re the one that stole my lighter!” he exclaimed in instant outrage, plucking the Zippo from the box.
“What?” she retorted. “You got your souvenirs, but I couldn’t get mine?”
He merely chuckled and flicked it on. “Been looking for this for seven years.” He shook his head.
“Yeah, well, that’s how long I was looking for its owner,” she added softly.
He grinned at her and plucked out two sheets of paper from the box. The first a photo of him but half from the back and obviously not intentional. He quirked an eyebrow at her.
“It was the only one I could find,” she said defensively. “Either Dawn took all the good ones, or…” She didn’t like the other option, that there were none.
“Bit stole ‘em,” he assured her quickly. He unfolded the other sheet of paper to recognize his own scrawling script:
Meet me by Aldridge Memorial. A gang of Vreleks in town. Should be a good tussle.
And then, beneath it, in an increasingly illegible script as if he’d steeled himself up before rushing through and writing it:
You make me feel so good. ~William
She blushed slightly. “It was the closest thing to a love letter I ever got,” she admitted sheepishly.
He tisked slightly. “We’ll hafta fix that,” he concluded, putting the box aside. The final item – a silver ring with a skull’s face on it – was a matter for another time. “Girl like you deserves flowers, poncy poetry…”
“I thought you’d given up the poncy poetry,” she countered.
“Yeah, well, we’ll just hafta settle for gettin’ naked,” he concluded. “Guess we’re not exactly memorabilia kinda people.”
“I’d noticed,” Buffy agreed, gesturing to the half-empty box. “And…” a blush, “were you serious about the naked part?”
A moment of hesitation. “You serious?” he countered, head cocked to one side.
An uncharacteristically shy smile. “Well, there are two possibilities I can think of,” she began. “We put it off and turn it into this huge deal and second-guess each other the entire time. Or we do what we want and just don’t worry about the rest of it.” Her fingers trailed down to his belt. “So?” she demanded.
He gulped. “Yeah, luv,” he agreed. “Prove that what happened before with the Hauntin’ was a fluke and…”
“It was,” she assured him, hands turning to her own clothes and slowly disrobing.
He watched her for a minute before taking his cue and removing he own t-shirt and jeans. There was an unusual calmness between the two of them as they watched each other, a sure knowledge as they glanced upon naked skin that they finally didn’t have to rush their way through this. It wasn’t going to be a wild, desperate act this time but merely the extension of what they’d been doing so far – connection not only on the verbal level now, but the physical as well.
They met at the center of the bed, each lying on their sides, facing each other. Limbs slid together naturally as he slipped inside her, a quick gasp from each at the union. The usual powerful thrusts were absent this time, however, as their bodies just rocked in slow time together, hands caressing flesh softly as they whispered sweet words between them.
“I feel like I failed you, you know,” Buffy murmured against his lips, breathing deeply and letting her own biorhythms guide him within her.
“Could never fail me,” he assured her, blunt teeth nibbling at her shoulder. His mouth arrived at his mark, and he covered it, making their meeting of minds a literal reality. Love you too much for that.
I should’ve fought the Haunting off, she countered with a sigh. You drove it out. I’m supposed to be stronger than that. I’m the Slayer…
And I’m supposed to know you better than anyone, he retorted. So how come I couldn’t tell that it was the Haunting and not you saying all that rot? You spotted it right off. If anything, I failed you…
She held him tighter, squeezed her internal muscles around him and made him gasp. Don’t worry, she insisted. Just make love to me.
He couldn’t argue with that and let his thoughts drift, occasionally picking up a hint of love from her mind, but not dwelling on any of it, just savoring being this close to her.
Do you think we could just be like this tonight? His mental voice sounded hesitant.
Yeah, she agreed. Let’s just be together.
For how long?
As long as we can.
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