1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33
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. ~_^
Dawn had just sat down to breakfast and was scanning her menu when the circus began. And, really, a circus was the only reasonable explanation for the tight red leather dress Veronica was wearing, combined with three-inch high snakeskin boots and a black feather boa. Dawn had to blink at the incredibly slutty fashion nightmare.
However, Veronica’s attitude completely belied the confident image her outfit betrayed. “You have to save me from that nutcase!” she practically screeched, leaning forward on the table to stare down at Dawn. “She tried to kill me!”
Dawn noticed the bruise along Veronica’s cheek for the first time and frowned. “What happened?” she asked, concerned.
“That little bitch punched me right across the room!” Veronica wailed, hands gesticulating wildly. “She’s possessed or crazy or something.”
Dawn frowned and motioned for Veronica to sit in the empty seat across from her. Spike didn’t do mornings, so she was pretty used to eating breakfast by herself. “Possessed? Crazy? Are we talking about Buffy?” she demanded.
“Little bitch knocked me across the entire room,” Veronica repeated, nodding vigorously. She leaned forward conspiratorially. “There’s something wrong with her. I saw it in her eyes.”
Dawn let out a weary sigh and rubbed her temples. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened?” she requested…
* * *
Spike let out a groan that sounded rather like those that the computer generated dinosaurs on those half-assed Discovery Channel specials did when they were ripped to shreds by herds of veloceraptors. The pitiable display got him no leniency, however, and the hard knocking on the door continued.
A soft whimper escaped his lips, and he tried covering his head with both pillows as well as that annoying fitted sheet that hotels always stuck on the bed. He first action upon retiring to his room last night had been to rip the damn thing out and toss it over the headboard. Now the sheet took its opportunity for revenge by refusing to block the noise.
The knocking on the door continued, earning a string of lavish and bizarre British curse words for its effort. Not put off in the slightest, the bang!bang!bang! resumed with renewed vigor.
Finally giving up with the irritating persistence of the knocker, Spike practically oozed from the large motel bed. Halfway out, his feet tangled in the sheets and he made a rather ungraceful tumble onto the floor.
Muttering grumpily about what kind of idiot would still be knocking on the door after all of five minutes, Spike managed to finally locate the robe Dawn had bought for him and practically forced him to wear after that one morning when he’d given a certain stubborn DA of New York City a bit more to look at than she’d bargained for.
Tying the sash haphazardly about his waist, Spike stalked from his room to the common room of their suite, attempting to growl but his eyelids still too droopy from sleep to slip properly into gameface.
The message: a vampire at 10:30 in the morning is a very scary thing.
“Whazzit?!” he roared, flinging the door open wide to face the irritant that had so rudely awakened him. His eyes narrowed. “Shoulda known it was you…” he muttered under his breath.
“Uh…Spike…” Buffy’s cheeks flushed horribly. The fact that she’d literally beat up a woman the night before in defense of his ‘honor’ was far too embarrassing for her to contemplate right now. Yeah right, like the blush has nothing to do with that gorgeous chest of his, her voice of truth – which sounded suspiciously like Spike’s – felt obliged to point out.
She shook her head to clear it out. “I’m looking for Dawn,” she explained.
Spike blinked once, twice, thrice before her words finally pierced the drowsy haze that surrounded him. “Bit’s not here,” he said amidst a terrific yawn.
Buffy watched in amazement as Spike’s fangs descended with the power of his yawn. OK, so vampires technically had no reason to yawn, but damn were they made for it! She made sure to keep her attention on his fangs rather than that rather skillful tongue she now had a lovely view of ‘cause majorly bad thoughts were that way. No the fangs were much safer – so long and sharp, perfect for piercing, penetrating deep and hard and…
“…or somethin’ like that,” Spike finished, absentmindedly scratching the top of his head, causing his short platinum hair to spike right up.
“Huh? Sorry,” Buffy shook her head once more. Bad fangy thoughts! She scolded herself. Distracting me…
“I said she said she went out to do somethin’,” he repeated. “Here or at the town or somethin’ like that.”
“Thanks for the helpful tip.” Buffy couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
“Was asleep at the time!” he retorted defensively, leaning against the doorframe. “Impressive I remember the soddin’ conversation occurred in the first place.”
Buffy favored him with a shy smile at that. His eyes were still in danger of drooping closed, and she took the opportunity to really observe him. The crimson robe he wore hadn’t been tied properly and exposed his bare chest to her view. It was as pale and smooth as she had remembered, one of the dusty rose nipples that were the only disruption of his marbled physique peeking out at her.
Fortunately – or unfortunately, that naughty voice in the back of her mind said – he had a pair of low-riding torn off sweatpants beneath them. The dull gray fabric hung from his angular hipbone, drawing the eye only too naturally to where the two sharp lines joined. Her memory had no difficulty supplying what was beneath those trousers, a delicious heat rising to her cheeks once more.
The sweats were ripped jaggedly just above the knees, exposing the fine tone of his calf muscles tapering down to those too sexy feet of his. Buffy had secretly been in love with those feet during their brief affair, and the desire to tackle him back to the floor and take that big toe in her mouth – and other things as well – was almost unbearable. She managed to restrain herself, however, with the promise to her sex drive that she would further ogle this undead Adonis.
The dull gray of his slacks set of the deep, rich red of his robe all the more. The fabric was clearly silk and shaded the tone of a fine, heady wine. Buffy was practically drunk just looking at where the soft fabric ended in a rolled sleeve, displaying the sleek corded muscles of his arm as it propped him up against the doorframe.
His inimitable razor’s edge cheekbones, startlingly blue eyes, and shocking white hair were just as attractive as she’d remembered them. The only difference was that his hair was cut shorter now, mussing up into spikes rather than the curls she’d run through her fingers in the past.
She approved of the new look, though. Hell, her entire body was practically screaming ‘yum!’ He looked so enticing right then, like a romance novel anti-hero offering her a night of forbidden passion, deep and dark and, oh, so tender…
Well, except for the fact that he was obviously trying not to fall asleep.
Buffy forced herself to focus. “This is important,” she insisted. “All sorts of weird stuff happened last night, and we have to research it immediately.”
Spike blinked a couple of times as the world finally came into full focus. Damn, he was really awake now. He probably wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep for hours…and by then Dawn would have undoubtedly returned and forced him into some form of menial labor.
“She might still be at breakfast,” he offered. “Might be able to catch her.”
Buffy nodded and was disappointed that she had no excuse to prolong the brief contact between them. However, as an answer to her prayers, the small cellular phone on the dining table by the kitchenette rang at just that moment.
Spike grumbled and swore but gestured for her to come in before he shut the door and prowled over to the phone, hitting the talk button with an angry jab of his index finger. “This better be good,” he growled into the receiver.
“Good morning, sunshine!” Siggy’s cheerful voice came through the other end. “I am calling to wake you up so that you are able to work.”
Spike scowled at the perky voice at the other end. “Dawn put you up to this, din’t she?” he demanded.
“She instructed me to awaken you prior to twelve o’clock noon. You may thank me that I let you sleep for another half an hour.”
“’S 10:30!” Spike exclaimed.
“Oh, I am so sorry,” Siggy insisted. “I must have forgotten about the time zone differences.” The way she said it made it all too clear that she hadn’t forgotten in the slightest.
Spike contemplated many lovely acts of violence that would result in Siggy’s head and body ending up on different halves of the globe. Then, with a weary sigh, he caved in to the undefeatable whims of the women in his life, just as he always did.
“What’m I doin’?” he demanded, plucking a cigarette from the packet that lay on the table amidst several bags of salty junk-food goodness. With an absentminded gesture, he indicated for Buffy to sit in one of the blue-upholstered armchairs. “And why couldn’t Dawn tell me herself? ‘ll rip off ‘er arms and legs an’ beat her to death with the bloody stumps…”
Siggy took his usual death-threats with good humor. “She said you were too asleep to comprehend any orders,” she explained. “I am to relay to you our newest research and instruct you to make a thorough exploration of the basement levels today. Preferably before dinner.”
Spike sighed. “What’s the news?” he asked curiously.
Buffy fidgeted in her seat as Spike began nodding into the phone, making occasional comments. Her eyes scanned the common room, smiling at how chaotic it was. An opened suitcase full of clothes that were obviously Dawn’s sat on the kitchenette counter. Across the room, all sorts of odd weapons were scattered in various stages of cleaning and maintenance. It was pretty obvious what the pair had been doing yesterday after they unpacked. An obscene amount of snack-food lay on every available surface not taken up by instruments of death, letting her know all too well that her little sister and vampire ex-lover hadn’t lost their taste for junky treats in the time since she’d last seen them.
However, the object that really caught her attention was sprawled over the chair beside her. The black leather looked just as soft and worn as she’d remembered it. She could see various places where the duster had been sown back up after it had been sliced in a particularly fierce battle. She was almost proud that could identify where the Initiative had shot him with the homing device and where Glory had smashed him through the table that one time and where he’d taken that knife from the Grsh’thlick Demon before ripping the thing’s head clean off. Ah, good memories…
“Council ‘f Wankers finally caved in, huh?” Spike chuckled into the small black cell.
Buffy’s attention instantly returned back to the vampire’s conversation at that.
“Finally found a lonely old fool?” he inquired.
A pause.
“Me?!” he exclaimed in surprise. “I don’t know any—”
Muttered gibberish on the other end.
“Oh, yeah, her,” Spike conceded. “Forgot all ‘bout that. Didja know she actually bothered to write a dissertation on me?”
Buffy could make out the teasing tone at the other end, even if she couldn’t hear what the other person was saying.
“Oh, god,” Spike groaned. “Please don’t tell me the two ‘f you have been comparin’ notes.” He banged his head against the table at the obviously affirmative response. “I don’t need the entire Tweed Brigade analyzin’ my every move,” he said in a petulant voice.
Soothing, clucking tones on the other end.
Buffy was growing impatient trying to decipher the one-sided conversation. Fortunately, it seemed to be wrapping up.
“Uh-huh. Uh-huh. You got it, Siggy-luv. Uh-huh. Yeah, that witchcraft business is no good. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Get right on it, pet.” He paused and managed a wry smirk. “’ll skin you alive the second I get home,” he said cheerfully. “Uh-huh. Ta, luv.” With a little flourish he turned of the phone.
“ ‘Siggy’?” Buffy repeated curiously. “Isn’t that that little pudgy guy in the newspaper with the parrot and the dog that looks like a mushroom?”
“That’s Ziggy, pet,” Spike pointed out, the edges of his lips threatening to break out into an amused smile at her joke.
Buffy giggled slightly at that as well. “So, what’s a ‘Siggy’?” she inquired.
“Siggy,” Spike explained with a sigh, snatching up a bag of Chex Mix and digging in like a starved man, “is the best damn researcher ‘ve ever had the pleasure of workin’ with.” He held out the bag to her in offering. “Want some?”
Buffy crinkled up her nose. “For breakfast?” she pointed out.
He merely shrugged and continued to happily munch away at the salty treat.
“So, this researcher of yours said something about witches?” Buffy pressed.
Spike eyed her suspiciously for a second, recalling the rather large amounts of money at stake in this case and then shrugging off the idea of the Slayer as a hustler as ridiculous. “Pretty powerful coven lived here,” he elucidated. “Back durin’ the first attacks. Nibblet’s lookin’ into whether they’re still around and what-all.”
“And you’re researching the basement?” Buffy raised an inquiring eyebrow.
“Not much else a vamp can do in the daytime,” he pointed out before getting up and heading over to the mini-fridge. He drained one of the blood bags there in a second, shaking his head at the foul taste of cold cow. “Besides sleep, that is.” He scowled rather pointedly at the door as if he were imagining Dawn standing there right now so that he could try to telepathically nudge the idea into her mind.
“That’s a good idea,” Buffy agreed, biting her lip as she stared down at the table. It hadn’t fully struck her before now just how much things had changed between the two of them. In a way, she was still used to thinking of him as her confidant after she’d been resurrected, her willing slave and lover, eager to carry out her every whim. She still hadn’t decided if the change was for the better, but she definitely missed the closeness.
Apparently, Spike was also reflecting on days past because he cocked his head to one side in that way that he did and looked her up and down. It wasn’t exactly in a sexual way, although there was always that hint of primal passion in him, but more curious, exploratory.
“You look good,” he finally said after the extended pause that hung between them.
A shy smile and a blush was her response. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she countered, making the understatement of a lifetime.
A smirk quirked at the edges of his lips as he plopped back down onto the couch across from her. He propped his feet up on the table, and she got a good look at those sexy toes. Damn, one of these days her fetish for Spike’s feet was going to do her in…
“Your hair—” He froze for a minute, remembering what had happened the last time he’d complemented her hair before shaking it off. “—‘s nice. Like what you’ve done with it.”
Buffy fingered the shoulder-length golden locks absentmindedly. “Yeah, I kinda decided the gray concentration camp refugee look wasn’t for me.”
He let out a delighted laugh at that, throwing his head back onto the couch back, his entire chest rumbling with amusement. Buffy watched his Adam’s apple bounce up and down in fascination. She’d so rarely seen him laugh, or just be happy, period. It made him look young, carefree, beautiful…
“You look like you’ve been treating yourself all right for once,” Buffy added, appraising him. His peroxide locks looked well-tended, rather than a chaotic curly mess. He was still lean and muscled but less gaunt than when she’d seen him last, and the dark weariness that had hung about his eyes was gone.
“Your li’l sis has seen to that.” Spike rolled his eyes and favored her with a conspiratorial smile. “Pampers me just like a mother hen.” He sat forward again, leaning in close to her. “Tryin’ to domesticate me, I think. Turn me into a kept vamp.”
She chuckled at that, although there was a pang of regret deep inside. Dawn had always been there for him, caring for him. He had wanted it to be her, but had he finally let Dawn take her place in his heart?
“You seem more…alive,” he ventured somewhat nervously. “’S a relief to see.” He looked down to study his hands through this speech, but his eyes turned upwards to meet hers hesitantly at the next part. “Was worried ‘bout you. Y’know?”
Buffy felt her heartbeat increase, and a wide smile lit up her face. “Yeah,” she agreed, shyly brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “I kinda woke up to the world after you…left.” She hated herself at that moment for bringing the past up, but while she was at it… “I lost so much, so fast. It made me realize that I had to hold on before there was nothing left.”
A slight pang of guilt went through him at that, and he looked away. “Was sorry to hear ‘bout your little Scooby club,” he offered. “Tara and Willow were all right. Even Xander. Had good hearts an’ all. Not bad as far as humans go. They din’t deserve that…”
“Thank you,” Buffy said with a sad smile.
She could tell from the way he was squirming that it had been hard for him to say that, but she was glad that he had, that he still could. A little bit of happiness slid into her, too, at his comments. She could count on her hands the number of times he had called Willow and Tara by their real names, and she only needed one finger to count the number of times he’d called Xander by name. Including this time. It was a relief to know that that horribly sweet man was still buried within the badass vampire exterior. It was a sort of new hope just knowing that she hadn’t destroyed the beauty within him.
“Yeah, well…” Spike looked incredibly embarrassed after his little admission and began scratching the back of his neck in a nervous gesture she recognized all too well. “Better get to work, then. Your li’l sis can be quite the slave-driver.”
Buffy laughed and stood up with him. “What’s she gonna do, eat all your junk-food?” she teased lightly.
Spike’s eyes widened in horror at the thought. “Cor, din’t even think ‘f that!” He leaned in close so that their faces were only inches apart, his eyes darting around furtively like he was about to reveal the most shocking horror imaginable. “She threatened to rip out the cable!” he said in a mock-terrified whisper.
Buffy giggled, and her face flushed at his nearness, and her palms were sweating, and her heart was thumping pleasantly, and things were good. “Heaven forbid I should interfere with your noble mission to protect the television,” she agreed, leaning against the doorframe.
“You can help me by distractin’ her ‘til I get done,” Spike offered.
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” she agreed with a wide grin. “I’ll see you tonight at the meeting?”
He looked surprised at that but then nodded. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Tonight.” He opened the door for her, and she stepped back out into the hallway.
“It was nice talking to you again,” she added with a definite blush.
He thought on that for a second. “Yeah,” he said in sudden, honest realization. “It was nice.”
“So, later?” Buffy gave him a little finger wave.
“Later, Slayer,” he agreed with a smile before closing the door behind her. He found his spirits oddly lifted as he went to go change and even hummed a little tune under his breath when he did so. After all, it was nice to finally have the horror of the past dulled.
In the hallway, Buffy was having similar thoughts, her body practically aflame with the brief, innocent encounter. God, how could she ever have thought that this man didn’t mean anything to her? She’d known she was screwed up that year after she came back, but so much so that she honestly didn’t notice just how comfortable he was to be around? That was craziness to top all other craziness.
She walked one door down to her own room, a jaunty skip in her step before she realized, oops!, she’d forgotten to mention what had happened last night…
* * *
“Excuse me, Ms. Summers?”
Dawn looked up in surprise at the softly accented voice, still rubbing her temples from her conversation with Veronica. “Uh…Ricardo Salvatore, right?” she provided with a smile after a moment’s thought. “And, please, call me Dawn.”
“Dawn,” he agreed, nodding slightly. “Rick.”
“Huh?”
“Rick.” His hands fidgeted slightly with the black bomber jacket he wore. “My family called me Rick.”
“Rick,” Dawn agreed, taking in his nervous motions. They seemed rather oddly out of place. The black jacket and dark sunglasses seemed to indicate something badass, like Spike’s look, but the way the other man held himself… It was more like he was trying not to be noticed, to blend into the background. “Was there something you wanted me to talk about?” Dawn shook the oddity from her head for the moment.
“There was a…problem last night,” he explained, continuing to stand awkwardly by her table, stepping quickly to the side when a waiter moved past him. “I thought it should be dealt with before this evening.”
Dawn gestured to the recently vacated seat across from her, frowning at the mention of yet another problem. “What happened?” she asked, concerned.
Rick slid into the chair with catlike grace that belied his obvious discomfort. “I would prefer not to work with Xel and Lena in the future,” he provided.
Dawn raised one eyebrow. “Any particular reason?” she pressed.
“I would prefer not to discuss it.”
Dawn sighed. First Veronica’s hysterics about how Buffy was the Devil Incarnate and now vague requests with no explanation – she was beginning to get a headache. “Request denied,” she said simply, turning back to the notebook before her.
“I see.” Rick didn’t sound disappointed or angry or…well, anything. It was said in a rather plain voice with no inflection.
Dawn gave him an apologetic smile and continued with her work. She had long assumed that he had gone when a sudden hand on her wrist caused her to yelp in surprise.
“Sorry!” Rick said hastily, instantly withdrawing his hand.
Dawn blinked in surprise. How on earth had he stayed there so quiet and…? She decided it didn’t matter. “Just startled me is all,” she assured him. “Was there something else…?”
Rick gulped. “You have no idea…” he began before sighing and caving in to her demands. “There’s no way I can take another night with those two. It’s like being stuck in an episode of Jerry Springer. Lena’s practically crawling over me to make Xel jealous, and Xel’s giving me these dirty looks and—I’m not a marriage counselor!”
A chortle of laughter escaped Dawn’s face at his completely panicked expression. It was that same look Spike always got when she threatened something precious to him – like his ‘Passions’ tapes, or his duster.
Rick gave her a pleading look and caught her hand once more. “I can’t survive another night,” he half-teased.
“I’ll save you from the quarreling D’voraks,” Dawn promised him with a smile. “Actually, I have to re-work the groups anyway since Buffy and Veronica had a little disaster last night as well.”
He pulled back then and tilted his head to one side. Even through his black shades, she could tell that he was studying her intently. “You were teasing me all along,” he finally decided.
“That’s a theory,” Dawn said mischievously, an enigmatic smile on her face.
“A good one?” he pressed.
“That’s for me to know,” Dawn answered, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she rose from the table, “and you to find out.” She gave him a quick wink before heading off for her day’s work.
Rick merely sat back in his chair and fought the smile at the edges of his lips. He had had a feeling before that there was something unusual about this one, but now… He watched the vibrant green energy that surrounded her, composed her, as she walked. Now, he knew…
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33