Slaying Retreat
Home : Stories by Author : Stories by Saber ShadowKitten : Slaying Retreat
Summary: Spike's home gets
invaded for the annual Slaying Retreat.
AUTHOR: Saber ShadowKitten
EMAIL: daschus@attbi.com
RATING: NC-17
PAIRINGS: Buffy/Spike, Cordelia/Angel, Buffy/Angel, Angel/Spike, Willow/Oz,
Xander/Anya
SETTING: Season 4/Angel
Implied
DISCLAIMER: Joss and Carrie, not I.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Soundtrack referred to - Mortal Kombat
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"What in the world are you watching?"
Spike jerked his head around to see Buffy standing in the doorway of his den. His eyes grew rounding as saucers and his face turned crimson, as all the blood rushed to his cheeks in embarrassment. "Er..."
He turned his head back to the movie and noticed his feet sitting on the coffee table. Correction, he noticed his fuzzy, yellow chicken-slippered feet sitting on the coffee table. And the white tube socks pulled up to his knees, with three red lines circling the top of them, because his feet had been cold. And his bare legs which ran up under a pair of smiley-faced, plaid boxers that were so thread-bare, they should have disintegrated already. And there was the little problem with the fact that he had no shirt on, which left the tattoo that curled around his side easily visible.
Backed into a corner and his manhood extremely threatened, he went on the offensive...and kept his arm pressed to his side. "You come into my bloody house without knocking and you have the nerve to mock me?" he scowled.
Buffy arched a brow at him, then looked down at his slippers. When her eyes returned to his, her other brow joined the first one. "Nice chickens."
"Sod off."
"You didn't answer my question," she pointed out, moving from the entryway towards the couch. Spike had to fight not to leap to his feet and run out of the room. "What in the world are you watching?"
"It's a soddin' movie, what do you think it is?" Spike growled.
"I know that," she sighed, taking a seat beside him on the couch. "Do anyone ever tell you that you are one strange vampire?"
"I can watch whatever I bloody well choose," he stated, folding his arms across his chest. "Now, go away."
"Can't," Buffy told him.
"Yes, you can," Spike replied. "You just get off your sweet arse and toddle on back the way you came."
"Can't."
Spike ground his teeth together. "And why not?"
"I'm the scouting party before the main troops arrive," she replied.
"What?"
She smirked and glanced at his shorts. "You're about to be invaded. I suggest you go put something...less happy...on."
Spike's mouth opened and closed several times in incomprehension. The amused smirk only grew on her face. "What?" he asked again.
"I guess I should explain, seeing as how Xander is looking like a rocket scientist compared to you right now," Buffy said. He scowled at her again. "We took a vote -- which I thoroughly lost, by the by -- and you have been elected to host this year's Slaying Retreat."
"I'm lost," he admitted.
"Not too hard, considering who you are," she teased.
He glared at her, then continued. "Can you explain to me in English what the bloody hell you're talking about?"
Buffy sighed dramatically. "Ok, it's like this. Every year at this time since I was a sophomore in high school, our little band of jolly evil-fighters gets together for an overnight retreat. It's kind of a 'bond with your fellow coworkers' type thingy. We let out all our grievances with working together and over the way things are done, then we get drunk and sing the friends song and cry. Whenever we finally get up the next day, we go home and it's back to slaying as usual."
"Right," Spike said, shaking his head. "And you've gone and decided to have it here, in my home, without even asking me?"
"First of all, I told you I was outvoted," Buffy pointed out. "And, currently, you have the biggest house."
Spike narrowed his eyes. "Just how many people are coming to this little shindig?"
"Oh, it's the usual crew," she hemmed. "Willow, Oz, Xander, Anya -- Giles is a no show this year, because he's stuck in Utah -- and, uh, Cordelia and Angel, too."
"And they're all coming here?"
"And you're still in tube socks watching-" she glanced at the video box on the coffee table next to his chicken-clad feet. "-Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II, the Secret of the Ooze?" She snorted in a very unladylike fashion.
"Shut up," Spike snapped. He picked up the remote and clicked of the VCR and television. "It's a good martial arts movie."
"Uh-huh," Buffy laughed.
Spike tossed the remote on the couch beside him and stood up. He put his hands on his hips and glared at her in the darkened den. "Quit your laughing or I'll throw you out on your arse!"
Buffy pressed her lips together and stared up at him with wide innocent eyes. "I'm not laughing," she squeaked out before clamping her lips together again.
He muttered something unintelligible, then stomped out of the room and up the stairs.
Spike pinched the bridge of his nose and wondered how in the world he managed to get himself into these situations. Someone was laughing their butt off at him, that was for certain. With a sigh, he pulled a light grey T-shirt over his head, then tucked it into his blue jeans. Not having expected company, all his normal black clothing were in the laundry, which meant he was going to be mocked for wearing something different.
Not wanting to put his Doc Martins on, and definitely not wanting to put his chicken slippers back on, he dug out another pair of socks and slid them over the ones already on his feet. He hated having cold feet. Granted, he was technically a walking corpse, so his feet were suppose to be cold; but that didn't mean he liked it.
He heard the doorbell ring in his sprawling, tri-level, brick home in one of the older neighborhoods of Sunnydale and he grumbled to himself, "I don't want to do this."
Resigning himself to the fact that he was no longer in control of his unlife, he descended the two flights of stairs from his bedroom to see that Buffy had already answered the front door. It irked him that she'd made herself right at home in his home. So what if he'd given her a key and an all-access invitation? That didn't mean she was suppose to use it to invite everyone and their brother's uncle over for a sleep-over party.
She was supposed to use it to come over and shag him until he died -- again. She had yet to grasp that hint.
"Hey Buff," Xander greeted, carrying several bags in his arms. He was followed by Anya. "Hey Shortstack."
Spike glared at Xander, as the twenty-year-old passed him by, but smiled at Anya. "Hello, ducks. I see you haven't killed the sod yet. Pity."
"He has his uses," Anya said. "I have found that men are good at opening stubborn jars and at destroying icky things, like spiders."
"Don't forget fetching and carrying things," Cordelia said, entering the house. She stopped in the doorway and nodded. "This is somewhat nice."
"Cord, get your butt out of the way," Angel said from behind her, loaded down with bags, like Xander had been. "I'm sure Spike will give us the nickel-and-dime tour, so move."
Cordelia huffed and moved further into the foyer, allowing Angel to enter after Buffy invited him in. Willow and Oz followed behind him, the matching redheads both loaded down with bags.
"Hi, Spike!" Willow said cheerfully. "Thanks for letting us have the retreat here. Usually, we'd have it at my house, but my parents are actually home for once. Oh, I hope Buffy explained that we were coming and about the retreat. You missed it last year by a whole two weeks."
"Lucky bastard," Angel muttered to Spike, as he walked past the blond vampire to deposit his and Cordelia's bags beside Xander and Anya's. Spike was surprised at his sire's friendliness, but decided to go with the flow.
"Yeah, I told him," Buffy said. She looked at Spike, then ran her eyes over him from head-to-toe. A smile that Spike couldn't define appeared on her face, and he didn't know whether that was a good or bad thing.
"Right," Spike agreed. He glanced at his unwelcome guests. "Well, most of you know where everything is. Those of you who want the tour, Mr. Trolley is leaving the station." He turned and headed for the stairs, not waiting to see who followed.
When he reached the second level, he closed the door to the third floor, which was directly around the corner from the stairs. No one had been in the master bedroom before, which took up the entire top floor of the home, along with a master bath and large, walk-in closet.
The second floor had four bedrooms, a bathroom and a small sitting area beside the stairwell. One of the bedrooms was separated from the other three down a short hall to the right, past the stairs to the third floor. Across from the sitting area was the bathroom, and to the left, down another hallway, were the other three bedrooms.
The main level had a spacious kitchen, dining room, living room, powder room and foyer. The front door was, in actuality, located on the side of the house. A door to the right of the front door led to the powder room. Going straight ahead from the door was the entry to the living room, past the stairs going both up and down. The dining room was connected to the living room, which, in turn, was connected to the kitchen. A small hallway ran next to the stairs going down that also led to the kitchen, which was set behind the powder room in the physical layout of the house.
Three-fourths of the basement had been converted into a finished den. An area had been walled off to hide the utilities necessary to keep a house furnished with water, heat and other things. It also hid the laundry room and storage space. The nice addition to the room was the dumb-waiter that led up to the kitchen and a fully functional bar, complete with mini-refrigerator and running water. It was the room used most often when the Slayer and chums descended upon Spike like locusts and it was where the tour ended.
Spike headed directly to the bar and poured himself a shot of vodka. He downed it quickly, then surveyed those in the room as he poured himself a second one. Willow was sitting on the floor in between the coffee table and beige couch, flipping through a three-ring binder. Oz was behind her, his legs on either side of her body. Anya was sitting primly on the other end of the same couch, watching Xander toss bags of chips and dip onto the table from a bag he brought. Cordelia had taken a seat beside Buffy on the second couch, set perpendicular to the first one.
Angel walked over to the bar and took a seat on the stool across from him. "I could use one of those," he said. The dark-haired vampire glanced back at the others in the room, then added, "Please."
"Why am I getting the feeling I'm going to hate this?" Spike commented, setting up a round for his sire.
"You will," Angel told him, quaffing the shot. He set the glass down and gestured for a refill. "I've done this three times already. I got lucky. One year, I was in hell."
"Here you go, Tiny," Xander said, walking up to the bar, holding another paper bag. "To be consumed later tonight."
Spike took the bag without comment, but once again glared daggers at the brunette. Ever since Xander realized he was taller than the vampire by several inches, he'd taunted Spike non-stop about it. For some reason, despite the fact that Oz was even shorter than him, Xander never called the wolf on it.
When Xander left, Angel arched his brow at Spike. "Tiny?"
"Shut up," Spike said.
"I hope he was referring to your height and not your..."
"I said shut up," Spike growled. He set the paper bag down behind the counter and quickly drank a fourth shot.
"I wouldn't get drunk before hand," Angel cautioned. "You could end up revealing something you really don't want them to know about."
"How's that?" Spike asked.
"This is one of those sharing retreats," Angel explained. "Willow organizes it every year. Complete honesty is the only requirement. If you don't feel comfortable answering the question, say so."
"Touchy-feeling things, eh?" he said. "Shouldn't you be thrilled? You've got the brooding and crying down to an art."
Angel glared at him, then sighed. "I like a good brood. That doesn't mean I want to share what I'm brooding about. Now that I think about it, though, I haven't had a serious brooding session since...Cordelia."
"You're getting a leg up on her?" Spike said in amazement. "Shit, the Slayer's gonna be pissed."
"I meant since she descended on my unlife with all her tactlessness, nimrod," Angel said, exasperated.
"Oh."
"Besides, Buffy doesn't care that I'm sleeping with Cordy," Angel added. He laughed when Spike's jaw dropped open. "I've forgotten how much fun you are." He stood, walked over to the couch and sat down next to Buffy.
"Pillock," Spike finally uttered. Grabbing a long-neck from the mini-refrigerator, he removed the top, then joined the others. He sat down on the floor in front of the wide-screen television, with his legs stretched out in front of him and leaning back on his forearms. The soft lamp lights gave the room a cozy feeling, which only served to put him more on edge. All he wanted to do was sit around in his shorts and have a Turtles marathon.
"I guess we'll start," Willow said. She grinned at everyone. "Welcome to the annual Slaying Retreat. Let's go around the circle and say how many of these you've done, starting with Angel."
"This will be my fourth one," Angel said.
"Fifth," Buffy said next.
"You losers have dragged me to this for the fourth time, now," Cordelia stated.
"Fifth for me," Willow said next, with a small bounce.
"Third," Oz said.
"This is my fifth mission," Xander said. "I am ready to boldly go where I've been four times before."
"Second," Anya said quietly.
"Er, first," Spike said, after everyone stared at him when he didn't immediately speak. He took a pull on his beer and wondered why he hadn't staked himself the previous year before he'd gotten involved with the group.
"Ok," Willow said, referring to her binder. She picked up a pen and tapped it lightly on the page. "Our 'think-about-it' for this evening is this: What do you know that someone else in this room did that you witnessed that was really embarrassing for him or her. Remember, it's something that person did that you witnessed, not something about them personally, like saying Angel wears orange thong underwear or something."
Everyone tittered and Angel gave Willow a look. She winked at him. "So, think about that while we get started on the work-related stuff," she instructed.
Spike tried to remember where the stake he'd hidden in the room was located.
"Oz, will you read our mission statement, please?" Willow asked.
Oz leaned forward and read over Willow's shoulder. "'As a team, we strive to protect our area of the world from as much evil as we can; to help those around us if necessary, even if they don't want it; to keep our activities as secretive as possible, but not from each other; and to remember that no one person is more important than another.'" The werewolf smirked. "'And to not stake Angel or Spike, no matter how much you want to.'"
"Xander!" Willow exclaimed, reaching over and slapping the brunette on the calf. "I said you could see it, not write in it!"
"I didn't do it," Xander said, defensively. "Honest!"
"Xander, one of the rules is no lying," Willow scolded.
"He's not," Cordelia said. She smirked at Angel. "I wrote it."
"I love you, too, Lia," Angel said sarcastically.
"Don't call me that," Cordelia told him. "You know I hate that stupid nickname."
"Lia, Lia, Lia, Lia," Angel chanted softly until Buffy socked him in the arm. He chuckled and put his arm along the back of the couch, above her head.
"Ok, um..." Willow turned the page in the binder. "Research stuff. Giles isn't hear to defend himself, so don't be too harsh on him. It's not his fault that he's British."
"On behalf of my country, bugger off," Spike said. They were just jealous that the Brits were superior in every way, he thought, as he took another sip of his beer. His English beer.
"I'll start, considering it's the research that helps me slay the baddies," Buffy said. "I never would have thought these words would come out of my mouth, but here goes. We need more books."
"Nyah," Xander shivered dramatically.
"More books, ok." Willow jotted on the page. "Anything else?"
"Anya needs to contribute more," Oz said. He glanced at the former demon on the other side of Xander. "You have been around quite a long time."
"So have they," Anya said, gesturing to the two vampires.
"Don't look at me," Spike said. "I don't know anything." He groaned when everyone laughed at him due to the stupidity of his statement. "Go ahead, you twits. Laugh it up."
"Ask Angel and Anya, but not Spike, because he doesn't know anything," Willow summed, writing in the binder. "Got it. Anything else?" When no one said anything, she continued. "Then on to the slaying part."
"There should be a dry-cleaning service especially for us," Cordelia said. "Do you know how hard it is to find someone who'll even try to get demon guts out of my clothes?"
"I second that," Buffy said. "Blood refuses to come out unless I get it in water right away."
"Don't ever stake a vampire in the rain," Cordelia warned Buffy. "Their ashes turn to this pasty stuff and it bleaches!"
"The nerve of those dead vampires," Xander joked.
"C'mon, guys, this is semi-serious time," Willow said.
"The knives and swords are dull," Spike volunteered. He looked over at Buffy. "The Slayer's tongue is sharper."
Buffy stuck the tip of her tongue out and wiggled it up and down, as if she were licking something. Spike looked away quickly and took another long pull on his beer. One of these days, he'd get some brass knackers and jump her delicious bones. Until then, he'd stick to being the wuss that he'd become.
"I like the response time," Oz said.
"We deploy the troops quite quickly, I agree, Oz-man," Xander said.
"Anything on your end, Angel?" Willow asked.
"It would be nice if we had a faster way to get back and forth to LA," Angel replied.
"We should buy a plane," Cordelia suggested. "A little Cessna."
"And who's going to fly it?" Angel asked her. "I sure as hell don't know how."
"I do," Spike said. They looked at him and he shrugged. "Some bloke by the name of Von Richter or Richthofen or something taught me."
Willow, Oz, Angel, Anya and Cordelia stared at him, wide-eyed. "You knew the Red Baron?!" Willow finally squealed.
"He knew the pizza guy?" Xander asked, confused.
"I thought that was the guy who went against Snoopy," Buffy said to Xander. "You remember, when he's playing the World War II flying ace? And he's in love with the little French girl?"
"Oui," Xander replied, with a grin.
Spike shifted under the others' stares. "I don't know who he was," he said. "He was just some git who flew a biplane that I met with Dru."
"Wow," Willow said. She shook her head. "Um, back to work. Anyone?"
"...And Xander was wearing these baggy pants," Anya was saying awhile later. The group had moved from the "work" portion of the retreat to the embarrassing stories after breaking for a few minutes to get drinks and open the chips and dip. Willow had chosen Anya to start and then they would go counter-clockwise, ending with Spike, who was feeling quite mellow due to the vodka he'd sneaked when he'd gone upstairs to get ice.
"He stopped in front of the cheerleader's to watch as they tried to build a pyramid on his way to meet me on the other side of the football field," she continued. "Now, I'm all for seeing men suffering and this is no different." She smiled at Xander. "One of the football players sneaked up behind him and yanked his pants down. Underwear and all!"
"Way to go, Xander!" Buffy cheered, clapping and whistling. Cordelia joined her and Willow hid her laughter behind her hand. The other men chuckled.
Xander was blushing and scowling at Anya. "Yeah, yeah. It happened. I didn't know that you'd actually witnessed that glorious moment in my history." She giggled and took a sip of her soda.
"Ok, my turn," Xander said, rubbing his hands together. "Because of the requirements, I can't tell you all the wonderfully juicy stuff I know about our fair hacker, but I do have a story."
"Oh boy," Willow gulped and nervously twisted the pen in her hands.
"Junior High was the time, ladies, gentlemen and dead things," Xander said. Angel and Spike glared at him. "The culprit: a carrot stick. The victim: Willow's tooth."
He grinned at Willow, who was blushing faintly. "A certain redhead we all know and love thought she was a walrus one day at lunchtime. Using two carrot sticks she'd gotten in her lunch, she stuck them on her teeth as tusks. Jessie and I laughed, because it was kinda funny. Then the teacher came by and scolded her for playing with her food."
"That's not too bad," Oz whispered to Willow.
"It gets worse," Willow replied.
"Well, needless to say, Willow turned beet red and took out one of the carrot sticks," Xander continued. "Why only one? Because the other was stuck on her tooth. Really stuck. As in, none of us could get it off."
The chuckling had started with Buffy and moved on to the others. "Willow ended up with that carrot on her tooth the rest of the day because she was too embarrassed to go to the nurse. We broke it off as short as possible, but every time she had to answer a question, Jesse and I could see her orange tooth," Xander concluded with a large smile.
"You know, I think this is more embarrassing now," Willow said. She grinned good-naturedly. "Ok, Oz is next."
"Cordelia had big '80's hair one night," Oz said simply. He held up his hand above where his bangs would be. "Her bangs were this high, stiff as a board and slightly curled at the end. Devon made her hang her head off the couch and he used her bangs as a type of ski-jump for some gumballs. Candice took a picture. Needless to say, she never had big hair again."
"Oz, I'm going to kill you," Cordelia stated, while the others laughed. Angel, however, smirked at the brunette, sending the explicit message that he would be using the information as much as possible -- and would try to find the picture. Cordelia caught this and narrowed her eyes, then a slow, evil smile crossed her lips. Angel's smirk disappeared immediately.
"I'm going to pour myself a drink," Angel said, rising and walking over to the bar.
"It's my turn," Cordelia said in a voice that made Spike sit up and pay attention. "Someone we know who's very tall, brunette and has fangs was talking to this girl at some bar we were at, looking for information. Before we got to the bar, there was a...slight altercation, which resulted in Angel needing to get redressed in a hurry. Don't ask, because it falls under the protective rules, which really sucks, because it's so funny."
Angel downed the scotch he had poured, then poured another glass.
"Anyway, Angel was talking to this girl and he had no clue that his shirt was hanging out of his zipper," Cordelia said. She waited while everyone burst out laughing, then continued. "The girl kept looking down and trying to hint, but Mr. Suave here was oblivious."
The friends were wiping the tears from their eyes as she finished. "Well, the idiot finally got a clue, closed his jacked and quickly left. Of course, I had to follow him and rub it in. Then I made sure to tell Doyle and Kate, who proceeded to rub it in. I also told the landlord, our mailman, the lady behind me in line at the bank..."
Angel had a look on his face that was a cross between embarrassment and thirst for revenge. He returned to the couch and sat back down beside Buffy with his drink. "Just wait, Cord, you'll get yours some day and I'll be there to witness it."
"Buffy, it's your turn," Willow said once everyone calmed down.
Spike swallowed nervously. Of all the people in the room, Buffy and Angel had stories on him that would make even the most testosterone-laden sailor blush if it happened to them.
"There are several I could tell about Spike," Buffy said with a wicked grin at him. He waited to be decimated, but she shifted her gaze. "But I have a short one about Anya that should be told, so she doesn't feel left out."
"Oh no," Anya said.
Buffy shifted on the couch and bounced slightly in glee. "I was walking back from class when I saw Anya standing in front of the MacDougall statue -- talking to it. This was before she and Xander hooked up."
Xander looked at Anya and arched his brow. She blushed.
"She didn't notice that others had stopped to witness her asking the statue out on a date. She was obviously practicing for some specific person." Buffy looked at Xander. "Well, some guy finally yelled out 'hey honey, if MacDougall says no, I'll go out with you.' Anya blushed about the color she is right now and practically ran away from there while everyone was laughing."
"When I get my powers back, you are the first I'm going to destroy," Anya muttered. Xander leaned over and kissed her on her red cheek, while the others laughed.
Then Angel looked directly at Spike and the blond knew his time had come. "Oh bugger," he muttered, quickly rising to his feet. He retreated in much the same way Angel had before Cordelia's story, putting the bar between himself and the others.
Angel took a sip of his scotch, then set it on the coffee table. He stayed leaning forward with his forearms resting on his knees. The others were looking at him with unabashed interest. A wicked smile curved his lips. "This story goes way back to when my boy over there was first turned," he began. "It's short, but it's very embarrassing. For Spike."
Spike needed to find that stake. Desperately.
"I was walking down the hallway of the house we had taken over when I heard Darla through one of the bedroom doors," Angel said. "Since she was my sire, she had the right to do whatever she wanted with any of my childer, but at the time, I didn't know it was Spike she was laughing at."
Since he couldn't find the stake, Spike opened a new bottle of whiskey and guzzled part of it. He could already feel his face flaming, because he knew exactly what story Angel was telling.
"Well, her voice carried easily into the hallway and I stopped to listen." Angel continued in a mimic of Darla's voice. "'What are you doing?' she said. 'Oh my, this is wonderful. You don't have any idea what you're doing, do you?'"
He looked over at Spike and smirked. "Darla's laughter rang out and, shortly after, Spike came rushing out of the room, clutching his clothes to his chest. Of course, he ran right into me and I had a great laugh at his expense, as he stood there waiting for me to tell him he could leave. I finally did, he disappeared and Darla told me in detail exactly what happened, which I can't share because of the rules. But I think you can figure it out for yourselves."
All eyes turned to Spike, who growled, "Sod off," at them. Lower lips trembled, nostrils flared and eyes blinked rapidly, as one-by-one they figured out what Angel meant and tried not to laugh. Buffy was the first to snort, followed by Willow, then as a whole, they burst into loud laughter at the blond vampire's expense. It lasted for ten minutes, during which time Spike continuously drank the whiskey.
"Oh goddess," Willow said, trying to catch her breath after they began to calm down. "Spike, it's your turn."
Spike raised a finger and pointed at Angel. "You are a bloody bastard," he stated. Then he pointed at Buffy. "And you are next." Buffy shifted uncomfortably, as he walked back over and took his seat on the floor again, another beer in his hand.
"You chits are always locking each other out of your dorm rooms," Spike began. "And, thanks to the Witch, the Slayer was locked out while she was taking a shower."
"Oops," Willow said, grinning apologetically at Buffy.
"I was walking up the hall on my way to fetch her and saw that she was banging on the door with a towel wrapped around her and a bucket by her feet," he continued.
"Oh god, you saw that?" Buffy said, turning a rosy shade of red.
He nodded and smirked at her. "At the same time I was coming up the hall, one of those tour-things with the parents and prospective students was coming down the hall from the other direction," he said. "Suddenly, some girl came running past me and grabbed the Slayer's towel. She screeched and turned to chase the girl, and gave the female full-monty to the entire bloody tour group instead."
Buffy was bright red and hiding her face in her hands, as the others laughed. "There was, like, twenty people in that group," she groaned. She looked over at Spike. "I can't believe you saw that. I can't believe you saw that and didn't rescue me."
"Why would I?" Spike asked with a devilish grin. "I had a great soddin' view of something I didn't know you had on your left cheek."
Angel turned to Buffy and quirked a brow. "And what would this something be?"
"It's just a, um, tattoo," Buffy said. "And that's all I'm saying about that." She gave Spike a pointed look. "And that's all you're saying, too, unless you want me to tell them about how I found you when I got here."
"No!" Spike replied quickly. "That's quite alright, Slayer. Mum's the word."
"Which leads us to our next question," Willow segued, glancing down at the binder. "Share something about yourself that most of the people in this room don't know. Angel, Spike and Anya, try to think of something non-evil, please. Here's an example -- Buffy can tell us what the tattoo is or why she got it or something else. Buffy?"
"I am so not going to tell you what the tattoo is or why I got it," Buffy said. She leaned forward and stuck a potato chip in the dip. "Um, most of you don't know that I was complete airhead before I was called. We're talking 'lights on, no one's home' type blondness, here." She shook her head. "I was so bad, someone told me that the reason the sun set at night was because it got too tired of staying up in the sky and went to bed...and I believed him."
"What's so different now?" Cordelia asked.
Buffy rolled her eyes and the others tittered. "What about you, Cordelia?" she asked.
Cordelia thought a moment. Oz reached down and began to rub Willow's shoulders. The redhead dropped her head back and smiled at him. Xander scooped up a handful of potato chips and fed Anya one, who giggled softly.
"Except for Xander, you guys didn't know that I worked at that store the Hellbeast ate that guy at during senior year," Cordelia said. Buffy and Willow looked at her in shock. "I had to wear a stupid name-tag and everything. It was awful."
"Why?" Willow asked.
"Because it was tacky and plastic and clashed with everything," Cordelia said.
"I think she's asking why you worked, Cordy," Xander pointed out.
"Oh," Cordelia said. "I needed the money to buy a prom dress. It's old news now that Daddy lost all of ours." She gave Xander a secretive smile. "I didn't think I was going to be able to get it, but everything worked out." She paused, then added, "And I looked great in it."
"Wesley was practically drooling over his loafers," Xander said.
"Eew, can we not mention that," Cordelia said. Angel, Willow, Buffy and Oz chuckled.
"I'll go next," Xander volunteered. "Willow, Cordelia and Anya know this, but the rest of you don't." He lifted up his shirt and pointed at his navel, which had a ring pierced through the skin. "Nothing too exciting here, except that Willow was the one to pierce it for me in eighth grade. She used one of her Mom's gold earrings because it was 'more sanitary.' I think I still have that earring somewhere."
"Oh goddess, I'd forgotten about that," Willow said. "If you find the earring, give it back to me. My Mom still complains about it disappearing."
"My birth name meant 'scum found on top of the water,'" Anya said suddenly. They all looked at her and she shrugged. "It was the only thing I could think of that didn't involve the humiliation and degradation of the male gender."
"But it's so much fun when you talk about how evil men are," Xander teased. She gave him a dirty look.
"I got one," Willow said. "I'm technically not an American by birth."
"Really?" Angel said. "Where were you born?"
"In Nigeria," she replied. "My parents had moved there after they got married and declared citizenship. So, when I was born, I was considered Nigerian. According to the stories, it took my parents years to turn me into an American. Lots of red government tape." She took a sip of her soda, then asked, "Who's next?"
"I'll go," Oz said. "I had a twin sister. She died when we were six."
"Hellmouth?" Buffy asked sadly.
"Car accident," Oz replied. Willow laid her head on his knee and rubbed his calf lightly. "I miss her sometimes."
"I had a twin sister, too," Angel said quietly. He smiled slightly at a good memory. "She used to beat me up all the time. Right up until the day she married. Then she beat up her husband."
"I'll go one better than you, mate," Spike said. He held up five fingers, the amount of alcohol he consumed starting to inhibit him. "I had eight sisters who liked to pick on me. Me! Can you believe it?"
"Eight sisters?" Buffy said. "Wow. That's a lot of sisters."
"They were all older than me, too," Spike grumbled. He laid back on the carpet and stared up at the ceiling. "Cor, they used to use me as their seamstress dummy. I wore more bloody frocks than they did. An' they used to braid me 'air, too!"
Everyone snickered at him and he growled. "It's not funny."
"Yes, it is," was the chorused reply, which sent everyone into stitches once more.
"So, is it true?" Buffy asked Spike a little while later. The group had taken a break and Spike had wandered to the kitchen to microwave some popcorn, the alcohol in him making the world spin every-so-often and loosening his tongue, as Angel had warned.
"Is what true?" Spike replied. He frowned at the buttons on the microwave, trying to read the blurred numbers.
Buffy reached past him and pushed the correct buttons. "You were a virgin when Angel vamped you?"
"Yup," Spike answered, popping the 'P' with his lips. He watched the bag spin on the revolving plate in the machine.
"But weren't you kinda old already?" she asked.
"Twenty-five," he replied. He turned his head to look at her and frowned at her astonished face. "What?"
"But you're a guy."
"Really? What gave it away?"
Buffy ignored him and went on. "I would think you'd have had sex earlier than that."
"I wasn't married," Spike said. He opened a cabinet, frowned into its depths, then closed it and opened the correct one that housed the bowls.
"Who wasn't married?" Cordelia said, entering the kitchen.
"Spike," Buffy replied.
"And this has meaning how?" she asked.
"He was a twenty-five year old virgin," Buffy explained.
Cordelia arched one dark brow at Spike. "Twenty-five?"
"Who's twenty-five?" Willow asked, joining them in the kitchen.
"Spike's virginity," Cordelia answered.
"Wow," Willow commented. "That's pretty old. I thought he was only nineteen, at most."
"He said it was because he wasn't married," Buffy told Willow.
"Well, I guess the times were pretty different back then," Willow said. "And it sounds like he came from a big family with lots of girls. They were expected to be virgins until they married."
"Who were suppose to be virgins until they were married?" Anya asked, coming into the room.
"Women," Cordelia answered.
"Yes," Anya said. "And all the men are suppose to be experienced. That double-standard really gets my goat."
"Gets your goat?" Buffy giggled.
"If the women are suppose to be virgins and the men are not, I wonder how the men lose their virginity," Willow said thoughtfully.
Spike decided to make a quick, but silent, escape from the kitchen through the dining room. He returned to the basement and flopped down on the couch beside Angel. "This is all your bloody fault, you nonce."
Angel exchanged a puzzled look with Oz, who had looked up from Willow's binder when the blond vampire spoke. Oz shrugged and returned to his perusal. "What do you mean?" Angel asked.
Spike waved his hand towards the stairs. "They're all in the kitchen cackling about me because of your soddin' story."
"If it's any consolation, you're way, way, way past being a virgin," Angel said. Xander chuckled from across the room. Spike socked Angel on the thigh, giving him a Charlie-horse. The dark-haired vampire dropped his arm from the back of the couch around Spike's neck and put him in a head-lock, then rubbed his head with his knuckles.
"Cut that out, tosser," Spike growled, trying to get away. Angel just held on tighter.
"I got a question," Xander said, returning from the bar with glasses of alcohol in his hands. He handed one to Oz, then set Angel's refill down on the coffee table. "If you were a virgin when you were turned, Spike, who did you finally lose it, too? And I'm talking female, here. None of that...that...that, between you and soulfang."
"Darla." Spike's voice was muffled by Angel's shirt.
"What was that?" Xander said.
"Darla," Angel replied for Spike. He smirked. "That was quite an interesting day. Pleasurable, if I remember correctly."
"You were there?" Xander said, his brows rising.
"Of course," Angel said, offhandedly. "Someone had to teach the boy what to do."
"I'm sitting right here," Spike grumbled into the shirt, still trying to get away.
Angel gave him another knuckle-rub and asked, "What about you, Xander? Who did you lose yours to?"
"Faith," Xander replied after a moment, somewhat embarrassed. He picked up the dark alcohol and watched as a bead of perspiration on the glass ran down the side. "It was very...abrupt. Takes the meaning of wham, bam, thank you ma'am to a whole new level."
"Jaqueline Ronkowski," Oz said. He looked up from the binder and focused on an invisible point across the room, a slight smile on his face. "She was quite the looker."
"Angel?" Xander prompted.
"Eileen O'Connell," Angel replied, grinning unabashedly. "Ah, now she was a lass that made a fellow stand up and salute. I was very patriotic the week she was visiting." He frowned. "Of course, after her, I was quite patriotic with the rest of Galway and the neighboring villages, too."
"'E was the town whore," Spike stated, finally pulling his head free from Angel's grasp. He ran his hands over his hair, smoothing it back into place.
"It wasn't my fault the ladies found me irresistible," Angel said, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.
"Did you love any of them?" Oz asked curiously.
"Not a single one," Angel replied, with a shake of his head. "The first woman I ever loved was Buffy."
"And we all know how that relationship went," Xander said with a wry smile.
"Shut up, Harris," Angel said. He leaned forward, picked up his drink, then leaned back and put his arm on the back of the couch again.
"Huh," Oz said, his eyes back on the binder.
"Is that a good 'huh' or a bad one?" Xander asked.
Spike slouched down, leaned his head back on the couch and dropped his eyes to half-slits. A hazy mellowness drifted over him. He folded his hands on his stomach and sighed. He may make it through the night after all.
"The next question could go either way," Oz replied to Xander.
"Let's hear it," Angel said. "That way we can be prepared."
"I always knew you were a bleedin' Boy Scout," Spike mumbled. He expected to be smacked upside the head, not his sire's fingers to begin running through his hair. He should probably protest, but it felt really good.
"We're suppose to say who we trust least in the room and why," Oz summarized.
"Great, serious stuff," Xander commented. He finished his glass of scotch. "I think this is going to require much more alcohol."
"Much, much more," Angel agreed.
"I'll second that," Oz added.
Xander went to refill the glasses. "Spike, do you want?"
"I think he's already drank himself to readiness," Angel said. The corners of Spike's mouth turned up. "I'll take that as a yes."
"What else is in there, Oz?" Xander asked. "Aside from the past years' retreat notes." He shook his head. "I can't believe she takes notes."
"It's Willow," Oz said simply.
"She's a bloody little firecracker," Spike commented. "Bet she's explosive in the sack."
"Keep your mind off her," Oz stated in a hard voice.
Spike opened his eyes and blinked at the tone in the werewolf's voice. "Sorry, mate." Oz nodded once and went back to studying the binder. The blond vampire glanced over at Angel, who shrugged with one shoulder, his other hand still occupied in playing with Spike's hair.
"There's a game," Oz said, his tone back to its usual calm. "A couple of them. Oops."
"Oops?" Xander said, returning to the couches with the drinks.
"CPR and First Aid refresher comes before the question," Oz replied.
"I guess we should have waited on the drinks," Angel said with a grin.
"Guess so," Xander said.
"Yep," Oz agreed. The trio looked at each other, then downed the glasses of scotch in one continuous gulp.
Spike chuckled. "You two are going to get wasted," he told Oz and Xander.
"That was the plan, small-fry," Xander said.
"Will you stop calling me those bloody names?" Spike growled.
Xander grinned. "Not a chance."
"Call him 'Flower,'" Angel said. Spike's gaze shot to Angel, causing the dark-haired vampire's hand to still. He saw that his sire had a devilish glint to his eyes. "What, you didn't really think I wouldn't find out? I know everything that you do, my boy."
"Is there something you'd like to share?" Xander said.
"No," Spike stated, not breaking eye-contact with Angel.
"But-" Xander started.
"No," Spike repeated with a growl. Angel arched his brow, but said nothing more.
"Who needs a refill?" Oz asked, standing. Angel held up his empty glass.
"Me," Xander replied.
"I'll take one," Spike said.
"Spike, how many fingers do I have up?" Angel asked, holding his hand out in front of him.
"Hold it still and I'll tell you," Spike said, trying to focus on the moving hand. Angel and Oz exchanged looks and Xander snickered. Spike turned his head and frowned at Xander. "What?"
"Nothing, shrimp," Xander replied.
Spike grumbled under his non-existent breath and settled back on the couch again. Oz returned with the drinks and passed them around. The blond vampire quickly downed his, then set the glass on his stomach, his hands folded around it. He heard the girls come down the stairs behind him, then they walked into view and stopped on the opposite side of the coffee table. All four looked directly him and he had the feeling that he was going to be made fun of. He wasn't wrong.
Buffy cleared her throat, then began speaking. "We've decided that Spike deserves a standing ovation for putting himself through grueling torture and having the unbelievable courage...," she paused dramatically. "To change his clothes."
The girls clapped, Xander laughed and Oz shook his head. Spike groaned and looked at Angel, who was chuckling. "You love me, right?" he asked.
"Of course," Angel replied immediately.
"Then please put me out of my misery," Spike begged. He thumped his chest over his heart with his fingers. "A little piece of wood right here should do it."
Angel chuckled again and patted the top of the blond's head with his hand. "Not a chance, boy. If I have to suffer, so do you."
Spike scowled at him, then looked back over at Buffy, who was snickering, and scowled at her. "Sod off," he told her. She just smiled in response.
Willow retook her seat in front of Oz's legs and looked in her binder. "Ok, next up, we have a CPR and First Aid refresher..."
"Xander," Anya said, exasperated. "Will you put the doll away already."
Xander adjusted Annie, the half-human shaped CPR doll, on the couch beside him and put his arm around "her" shoulders. "Jealous?" he said. Anya gave him a look, to which he grinned goofily.
"I'm surprised the doll didn't explode when Spike lit up," Buffy said. She looked between Xander and Oz. "There is probably enough alcohol fumes in her to equal a grenade-type boom."
Spike shifted his feet, which were propped on top of the coffee table. He was still seated on the couch, Angel on one side of him, Cordelia on the other. Buffy had taken his place on the floor and was laying on her stomach, her chin propped up by her palm. The other two couples returned to the same places n the second couch after the "refresher course" had ended.
"Time for another question," Willow said.
The men exchanged looks, and Angel stood and headed for the bar. He returned a moment later with four beers and passed them out before retaking his seat. Not a single one of them said a word.
"Why do I get the feeling this isn't going to be a fun question?" Buffy commented.
"Who do you trust least in this room and why?" Willow read.
"Am I psychic or what?" Buffy said unhappily. She stood and moved to the bar.
"Get me something, Buffy," Cordelia requested.
"Anyone else?" Buffy asked, retrieving two long-necks that Xander had brought.
"I'll take a beer," Anya said.
"Wills?"
"Nothing for me," Willow replied. She picked up her pen and began writing in the binder, as Buffy returned. "Remember, if you don't want to answer, say so."
"I have no trouble answering," Xander said. He pointed at Angel. "Everyone knows I trust Deadboy as far as I can throw him."
"Don't forget to say why," Willow said in a stage whisper.
"Why? Because the guy is your friend one minute then bam!" Xander said loudly. "He's trying to kill you."
"That only happened once, Xander," Buffy said.
Xander shook his head. "Three times. And two of them he had his soul."
"When was this?" Angel asked, his brow furrowed as he tried to remember.
"You were going to feed me to Spike," Xander replied, holding up a finger. He lifted a second. "And the night we found out Faith was batting for the other team."
Spike turned his head and looked up at Angel. "You tried to feed that git to me? Were you trying to kill me, too?"
Anya giggled and earned a glare from Xander. "What? It's funny."
"What about you, missy?" Xander asked her. "Who do you trust least here?"
"Oz," Anya answered without hesitation.
Oz arched his brow in surprise. "Ok."
"Why don't you trust my boyfriend?" Willow said, glaring daggers at the former demoness.
"Because he is male and is the one capable of causing the most hurt," Anya replied. She gestured to Angel and Spike. "Angel won't let himself get too close to anyone, Spike is a pure demon, so he cares for nothing but himself, and Xander knows he'd better not do anything wrong. You love Oz completely and he would cause the most devastation if he turns on you."
"Oh," Willow said. "I guess then my not trusting you the most because I believe that if you get your powers back, you'll turn us into chopped liver bits seems kinda...petty."
"But it isn't unfounded," Anya told her with a small, wicked smile.
"Hey! I think I was insulted!" Spike suddenly exclaimed. The others stared at him a second, then started to laugh. He frowned and scrunched down further into the couch, muttering insults about everyone to himself.
"How about you, Oz?" Anya said. "Who do you trust least?"
"Xander," Oz replied. "Sorry, man, but you have the power to hurt my Willow the most."
"No offense taken," Xander told him. He raised his beer to his lips and drank steadily.
"Well, I don't trust Willow," Cordelia stated. "And not just because she's a skinny little, goody-two-shoes and a boyfriend-stealing tramp, who still has the fashion sense of a water-buffalo."
"Why don't you tell us what your really think, Cordy," Xander said.
"Well, she's a pretty powerful witch," Cordelia said. "She could turn us all into something really gross. She could not tell us something important from her research because she's PMSing and get us all killed. And she's got the whole 'I'm a helpless girly, come save me' thing going for her, which sucks for the rest of us who'd like to be rescued, too."
"Um, it was a rhetorical question," Xander whispered loudly.
"Don't worry, Lia," Angel said, looking at the brunette over the top of Spike's head. "I'll rescue you when the time comes."
"You're going to need the rescuing if you call me 'Lia' again," Cordelia told him. He gave her a half-grin and she narrowed her eyes. "I'm not kidding."
"I don't trust Angelus," Spike announced with a firm nod of his head.
When he didn't continued, Angel said, "Care to tell me why?"
"Because you-" Spike sat up slightly, turned and put his finger on the center of Angel's chest above his heart. "-continuously tear out my heart and smash it into the floor beneath your bloody boot heel, you friggin' pillock."
"Bitter much?" Cordelia commented.
"Like you can talk," Buffy pointed out.
"Defending your new boy toy, Buffy?" Cordelia said.
Angel lifted Spike's hand from his chest and kissed the tip of his childe's finger. "I'm sorry," he said softly. Spike ground his teeth together and nodded, accepting the apology.
"Eat me, Cordelia," Buffy spat.
"And catch some disease? No thanks," Cordelia said cruelly.
"This coming from the backseat whore?" Buffy retorted.
"Ok, guys," Xander said. "Moving on now."
"I don't trust Cordelia," Buffy said, still glaring at the brunette. Cordelia snorted.
"Buffy, just because you're not happy with her-" Willow began.
"I don't trust her with Angel," Buffy interrupted. She stood and walked over to the bar, putting her beer down on the counter.
Both Spike and Angel's eyes shot to Buffy at her statement. They watched as she poured a shot of Goldschlagger and quickly downed it. She then met Angel's questioning brown gaze. "She could make you happy, too. Hell, she already is."
"Slayer, you're jealous," Spike said, felling jealous himself. She still wanted his sire, which meant she'd never turn her attention on him.
"So?"
Well, that put him in his place. Spike pursed his lips and stood. He walked over to the stairs and took a seat on the third step, tilted his beer to his lips and drank half of it. Then he pressed the sweating bottle to his forehead and closed his eyes.
An uncomfortable silence filled the room, punctuated only by the shot glass being set down on the bar three times. Willow's quiet voice split the air like a knife. "Angel? You're the only one left."
"I trust all of you," Angel said, his voice quiet, as well. "It's myself I trust the least." He gave everyone a wry smile. "And I'm going to exercise my right to not say anything more."
*****
They took another break, a longer one this time. The alcohol began to flow freely, the ladies quickly catching up to the men in terms of intoxication. They came and went out of the basement with their drinks, taking the time to unwind after the last question.
Spike was sitting sideways on the stairs going up to his bedroom. He was smoking a cigarette, using an empty amber beer bottle to collect the ashes. He could hear Xander and Anya talking softly in the small sitting area, but he ignored them.
"Hi." Spike turned his head and saw Buffy standing outside the door to the stairs. "Mind if I sit?" she asked.
He gestured for her to go ahead and she sat down a step below him, her back against the opposite wall so she could face him. She took a sip of the beer she had in her hand, then let the bottle dangle loosely from her fingers.
"It's pretty funny," she said without preamble. She gave him a half-smile. "Not a single person said they trusted you the least. Dumb, huh?"
"Incredibly," Spike agreed with a small snort of derision. "It will make the time when I kill all of you that much sweeter."
"Just promise to off me first," Buffy said. She paused, then added, "And if you can do it while we're having sex, that would be nice."
Spike froze with the cigarette halfway to his lips and stared at her in shock. He didn't snap out of it until she giggled softly. He blinked rapidly and took a long drag. "I'll, er, keep that in mind," he told her.
"Would you like to kill me now?"
The cigarette fell from his hand to his lap and he jumped with a very unmanly squeak. She started laughing, as he grabbed the cigarette and dropped it into the empty bottle. He glared at her. "It's not funny."
"It is from this side," she said, still laughing.
Spike ran his hand through his hair. "Cor, if you weren't laughing, I'd swear you were hitting on me, Slayer."
"This is hitting on you," Buffy said, socking him lightly on the leg. "I was trying to get you to screw me silly."
"Oh," Spike said, dumbfounded. The alcohol in his brain was delaying his reaction to what she had spelled out to him. It was also making his tongue loose. "That's what I gave you the soddin' key for."
Buffy pulled a string that was around her neck and he watched as a silver key slowly appeared from between her breasts. "You mean this key?"
Spike's eyes were still glued to the creamy skin exposed above her shirt. "Uh-huh," he mumbled intelligently.
"So, this key not only unlocks your front door, it unlocks your jeans?" she asked.
"Uh-huh," he agreed. Then his mind caught up with what she was inferring and his eyes shot to hers. "You want to shag with me?"
"Yep."
"Now?"
"Yep."
Spike narrowed his eyes at her. "I bet you just want to do it because of Cordelia and the poof."
"Yep."
"At least you're honest," he said. He stood. "It's wrong that you only want to use me...," he trailed off, then shrugged. "Who am I kidding? I could care less. C'mon, Slayer, let's get shagging."
Buffy grinned up at him and stood. He led her up the stairs to his room and turned on a free-standing lamp around the corner on the others side of an old desk with a laptop sitting on it. A soft, pinkish glow illuminated the king-sized bed set in the corner on the far left wall of the large bedroom, with a night-stand on either side. A low dresser ran along the same wall as the bed, then two chests of drawers lined the connecting wall.
A single door sat in the right corner of the wall that ran from the stairwell and, when Buffy went through it, she found herself in the biggest bathroom she'd ever seen. It had a sunken whirlpool tub, huge shower stall, dual sinks, a separate water closet, and a door that led into a walk-in closet that was bigger than her bedroom at her home.
She returned to the bedroom and set her drink down on the waist-high dresser. "Nice," she commented.
"Nicer," Spike stated, half-a-beat before he grabbed her and smashed his lips to hers.
He ravished her mouth, plunging his tongue between her teeth. He engaged in a furious battle with her own tongue, tasting the alcohol she'd consumed, the sweet taste of licorice mixing with the bitter taste of barley.
He broke away and violently yanked her shirt over her head, bra and all. He practically bent her backwards over the arm he wrapped around her waist, as he descended upon her breast, puling the pebble-like nipple into his mouth. She moaned and grabbed the back of his head, holding him to her, as he suckled her tit like a babe. He moved on to her other breast, licking down the heavy globe to the valley between them before rising up the other side and tugging that nipple into his mouth.
When she whimpered, he swept back up to her lips, capturing her mouth in another savage kiss. He held her tightly against him, his one arm encircling her waist, his other hand cupping her rear. He ground his erection against her pelvis, letting her know how much she affected him.
Breaking away from her again, he took her wrist and led her over to the bed, then pushed her down upon it. Dropping to his knees, he pulled off her shoes and tossed them carelessly over his shoulder. Her pants soon followed suit, as well as her panties.
He draped both her legs over his shoulders and yanked her hips towards the edge of the bed. Her dark curls and the aroma of her arousal greeted him and he growled. A second later, he buried his face in her sex, licking and sucking her extended clit. His fingers found her wet entry and pushed inside, stretching her, preparing her, pleasuring her.
Her thighs clamped against his head and she began thrusting her hips up and down against his mouth. She was moaning and whimpering and babbling incoherently, as she came closer to the edge. Her fingers dug into his scalp as she rode his face.
She climaxed without a sound, her body arching upwards for a moment before she sat up straight and held his head tight against her pussy with her hands and legs. If he still needed to breathe, he would have been asphyxiated.
She fell limply back onto the bed afterwards, her arms falling to her sides, her thighs dropping open. Spike sank back on his heels and wiped his face with the bottom of his T-shirt. He grinned at the large wet spot it left. Without hesitation, he pulled the shirt off and dropped it beside him as he stood. His jeans were partially down when her legs shot out and wrapped around his waist. She used her enhanced strength to tug him forward and he fell on top of her.
"Someone's taking too long," Buffy murmured, then nipped at his neck with her blunt teeth.
Spike hissed and dropped his head to the side, kicking his legs until the jeans slid off. His rock hard shaft was pressed against her abdomen and her curls tickled in an erotic manner. She continued to nibble and lick his neck, which sent uncontrollable shivers down his spine. He shifted his weight back onto his feet and dipped his hand between their bodies to position himself at her slick entry.
With one quick thrust, he was enveloped in her heat. His eyes rolled up, his lids fluttered, and he let out a deep growl of pleasure. Slowly, he began thrusting, pulling almost all the way out of her before sliding back in as far as he could.
His lips sought hers again and their tongues fought a silent war, as he increased the tempo of his thrusts. Soon, he was pounding frantically into her, one arm looped under her knee, holding it up near her shoulder. His mouth had left hers to growl near her ear.
Suddenly, she cried out, her vaginal walls clenching around him as she climaxed. He flew after her within a few, short thrusts. He buried himself in her, his shaft pulsing, as he spilled his cold semen into her hot depths.
He collapsed upon her, unconsciously nuzzling her neck, breathing heavily despite his lack of needing the oxygen. His tongue darted out to lick her salty skin. He was content to stay right where he was for a very long time.
"One word of advice, my boy, lose the socks."
Spike froze and he felt Buffy tense up under him. "Shit," he cursed, a feeling of dread descending over him.
"Spike, go get cleaned up," Angel ordered.
Spike raised his head and gazed down at Buffy. The emotions in her eyes were inscrutable, and he didn't know if he should listen to his sire or not.
"Now, Spike," Angel said sternly.
"Go," Buffy whispered to him. She lifted her head and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. Then she smiled at him in reassurance.
Spike moved off of her, turned and glared at Angel. The dark-haired vampire was leaning against a dresser, his arms folded across his chest. His face revealed nothing.
Bending, Spike snatched his jeans off the floor, then headed for the bathroom. Once there, however, he did not close the door completely. He waited and listened, prepared to act if need be.
He heard a gasp and a low moan of pleasure. Blinking in surprise, he looked out through the crack and saw Angel's head between Buffy's thighs the same way his had been earlier. He could only stand there and watch as his sire pleasured her, growing aroused again. When she came for the third time, he inhaled sharply in excitement, his hard cock jumping and brushing against the jeans he held in front of him.
Angel turned his head and his brown eyes pierced Spike's blue ones. The blond vampire quickly back-peddled and shut the door. "Bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger, bugger," he muttered to himself, as he moved to wash up; for he had a bad feeling that was exactly what was going to happen to him.
However, he didn't know that while he was in the bathroom, Buffy and Angel were talking about him.
"I'm sorry, Angel," Buffy said, holding the shirt he'd given her in front of her body. "It's just-"
"It's ok, Buffy," Angel told her. "As much as I'd love to be the one pounding you into that mattress until you pass out from the pleasure, I can't. Sex does not equate with happiness except when it's me with you. You have this way of making me feel...human." He gave her a small smile. "You have a way of making me forget."
"Then why did you...," she trailed off and blushed heavily.
"I was hungry," he replied with a shrug. At her look, he chuckled. "Sorry. Couldn't resist. The joke or your sweet honey mixed with Spike's saltiness."
"I think Cordelia corrupted you," Buffy muttered.
"Absolutely," Angel agreed. "Plus, I'm a wee bit on the snookered side."
"So, uh, what are you going to do about Spike?" she asked tentatively. Angel grinned wolfishly. Buffy shook her head. "Never mind, I don't want to know."
"Just be careful with him, Buffy," Angel told her seriously. "Spike has a big heart, despite his being a vampire. You could easily hurt him."
Buffy stared at him in amazement. "Wow. And here I thought you were warning me to be careful so that I don't get hurt."
Angel reached out and caressed her cheek. "I know that you can take care of yourself. Him, not a chance. Since he's gone good, he's let down his defenses and turned back into the big old softie he was when I first turned him. It took me almost ten years to make him into a proper 'bad guy' and he still followed me around like a puppy with big, adoring, blue eyes. Then Drusilla joined us, he fell hard for her and followed her around like a puppy."
Angel stepped back from her and gave her a tender smile. "You'd better clean up. Willow wants to start again, much to my obvious excitement," he said sarcastically. He headed for the stairwell, then paused. "And next time, make sure you close the door first when there are others in the house...unless you want to have an audience, that is."
Buffy was beet red when she knocked on the bathroom door. Spike opened it, clad in his jeans and socks, and she gave him a half-smile. "I need to get cleaned up," she told him.
Spike nodded and stepped back from the door, allowing her to pass. "Why don't you hop in the shower, luv?" he suggested, opening a cabinet and taking out a dark green towel. His gaze dropped down to her backside and his lips curled up when he saw her tattoo.
Buffy looked over her shoulder and caught him. "Stop looking at my butt," she mock scolded.
"But it's so bloody adorable," he said, reaching out to smack her lightly. "Especially the tat."
She shook her head and walked over to the shower to turn it on, dropping her shirt on the sink as she walked past it. She stopped with her hand on the hot water faucet, turned and looked at him. Her eyes widened. "Oh my god, you have one, too!"
"Have one what?" Spike asked, confused. His lack of grasping her meaning wasn't helped with the fact that he was horny again, she was facing him and she was quite naked. Her breasts swayed when she gestured and he felt like he was going to expire on the spot.
She walked back over to him and he gulped. When her fingers brushed his abdomen, his body quivered, as if he'd gotten an electrical shock. His gaze dropped down to her fingers and he saw that they were running along his tattoo. "Oh. Er, right. That," he said, now uncomfortable for a totally different reason.
Buffy lifted his left arm up and followed the tattoo around his body. "What in the world possessed you to get something so...cute?"
"Shut up," Spike growled, dropping his arm. "Go take your bloody shower before I take you on the floor."
He jumped and spun around when she squeezed his ass, and she grinned mischievously up at him. "On the floor, huh?" she asked. She turned and dropped down to her hands and knees on the maroon throw rug, then wiggled her tattooed behind at him. The twin devils, a taller one standing behind a shorter one, each had a halo above their head. The taller one's was on straight. The shorter one's was lopsided. "Well?"
Spike had his jeans shoved down and was inside of her in an instant. He grabbed her hips tightly with his hands, slamming into her hard. Buffy groaned loudly, the sound echoing in the tiled bathroom. One of his hands slid down around her body to manipulate her clit and her groan turned to mewls of pleasure. He came first, shooting his dead seed deep inside of her, as he snarled uncontrollably. She followed shortly thereafter, her inner walls clamping around him.
He pulled out of her and dropped back on his heels, then impulsively leaned forward and kissed her tattooed ass-cheek. "One of these days, Slayer, you'll have to tell me the story behind this," he said.
"Maybe," Buffy mumbled. She slowly stood and meandered to the shower. She paused and looked back at him, still sitting on the floor. "Are you coming?"
"Again?" Spike gasped mocking. He stood and removed his jeans and socks.
"Funny," Buffy said, deadpan. "You're a regular riot."
He followed her into the shower and turned on the water. When he faced her, she looked at his tattoo with a smirk on her lips. "Will you quit that?!" he growled at her.
"But it's so...so...flowery," Buffy said with a giggle. "Ooh, how scary."
"I was bloody plastered, alright?" Spike snapped. "And if you hadn't made me watch that soddin' video-"
"You liked it," Buffy pointed out, soaping herself up under one of the multiple sprays. "You cried."
"Did not."
"Did, too."
"Did not."
"Want me to ask Willow?"
"No," Spike said, pouting. He turned away from her and washed himself off.
"I like the dragonfly on the back," Buffy said. "It's a nice touch."
"Sod off," he told her. "You're just making fun."
"Big time."
*****
"What is the purpose of this again?" Xander asked, looking down at the sixteen crossed and clasped hands in the center of the circle. They had re-gathered in the basement, drank more and were intoxicated to the point just below the slurring of speech range. Spike stayed as far away from Angel as he could get, keeping a wary eye on his sire. So far, the dark-haired vampire had done nothing but smirk at him. That was a bad sign.
"Teamwork,"Willow stated. "Now, the object is to get untangled without letting go of the hands that you hold. Ready?"
"I think I need another drink," Cordelia stated. "This is so dumb."
"So are you, but I still do what you say," Angel commented from beside her. He dropped his mouth open and fake-gasped at her when she glared. "Did I say that?"
"You definitely don't need any more to drink," Cordelia told him. "You're beginning to sound like Doyle."
"Aye, missy. That would be a bad thing," Angel said with an exaggerated Irish accent.
"Buffy, are you sure I can't stake him?" Cordelia asked the blond Slayer across the slightly swaying circle of friends.
"Positive," Buffy replied. "He sucks a mean pussy." Angel snorted and the others turned to her in shock. "What? It's true. If you don't believe me, let him suck yours."
Willow blushed scarlet, Anya looked interested -- which caused Xander to sputter incoherently - and Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Sure, feed his ego, why don't you," Cordelia said.
"Feed me anytime you'd like, Buffy," Angel added, waggling his eyebrows.
"Do you want that with or without salt?" Buffy replied, with a wink.
Angel looked directly at Spike and smirked. "Definitely with," he answered, then licked his chops like a lion after a good kill. Spike dropped his gaze and shifted on his feet. He was definitely going to get it.
"Um, can we start now," Willow asked, her voice higher-pitched than normal. "Please?"
"Deadboy is not going to eat you out!" Xander finally got out. Anya looked at him and arched a single brow. "Well, he's not!"
"I'll try and remember that," Anya said dryly.
"Good," Xander said with a firm nod of his head. He looked around at the others. "Ok, now that that's settled, we can start."
"Huh, an over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder," Oz said suddenly. The werewolf was looking off in the distance when everyone turned their stares on him. He blinked and shrugged. "It's better than a keepsemfromfloppin'."
"Otis Titsling," Spike said. "I have that soundtrack around here somewhere."
"I saw it," Oz said. "That's why the song's in my head."
"What are you talking about?" Willow asked.
"Sorry," Oz apologized. "I'll show you after the game."
"Whoever's hands I'm holding are getting clammy, can we start already?" Cordelia whined.
An hour later, eight bodies lay in a heap on the floor, giggling like mad and still holding hands. They had managed to get untangled, but had lost their collective balances. Like dominos, when one fell to the ground, the rest followed suit.
"I think that's enough games," Buffy gasped.
"But I have this neat one-"
"NO!" came the chorused response.
Spike frowned at his stereo, which was near his feet. He lifted his leg and poked at the buttons with his dual-sock-clad toe. He had come very close to wearing his chicken slippers when he and Buffy had re-dressed. Instead, he'd let her wear them, along with a pair of his sweats and green T-shirt. She looked adorable. He wanted to shag her again.
And now for a taste of things to come
Spike shot up to a sitting position the exact same time Angel did. Oz sat partway up and cocked his head to one side. Spike hadn't known that this soundtrack was in the player. His hand shot out quickly and hit the single play button at the same time he heard the low snarl from behind him. His face rippled into its vampiric ridges and he smoothly rolled up onto his haunches, golden eyes meeting golden across the fallen circle of friends.
"Um, guys?" Buffy said, looking between the two vampires. "What's going on?"
"Oz, what's wrong?" Willow asked.
"Don't you hear it?" Oz replied. He sat up completely and looked at the speakers.
"Hear what?" Xander asked, as he and the others sat up.
Spike pulled his T-shirt over his head at the same time Angel removed his shirt. Both of their lips were curled back, and a low growling sound played just under the drum beats.
"Oh shit," Cordelia swore. "Everyone back, now." She quickly got up and hurried to the other side of the furniture that had been pushed over by the bar to clear a spot to play Willow's game.
Oz stood just as rapidly, grabbed Willow and practically dragged her over to where Cordelia was standing. He pushed her behind one of the couches, then moved so he was in front of her on the opposite side.
Xander exchanged a look with Anya, and the two of them quickly joined Cordelia and Willow.
"Buffy, get over here now," Cordelia snapped, her eyes on the two vampires.
Buffy looked at Cordelia in surprise at her tone, but stood and hurried over to them. "Do you know something we don't?"
"They're going to fight," Cordelia replied. "I've seen this happen once before. Me, Angel, Kate and Doyle went to this club and suddenly Angel does this," she waved at the two, "with about twenty other vampires in the place."
"Why?" Anya asked.
"Listen," Oz said. His eyes were slightly darker than normal and his nostrils were flaring. "It's calling to them."
"I don't hear anything," Xander said.
"Me either," Buffy said.
"Not me," Willow added.
"Angel told me later that this soundtrack was made by a vampire specifically to instigate the fight. They lose their sense of self and become animalistic to the extreme," Cordelia commented.
"Do you know anything else?" Buffy asked.
Angel lifted his hand and cut his skin with the side of his thumbnail on his left pectoral muscle. Spike mimicked his action. The two of them were balanced on their toes, leaning slightly towards one another, the drums still pounding through the speakers.
"Angel explained it to me afterwards," Cordelia answered. "That symbol he just made reads 'Order of Aurelius, Childe of Darla, Named Angelus.'"
"What about Spike?" Buffy asked.
"'Order of Aurelius, Childe of Angelus, Named William'...Oh my," Cordelia replied. "See that little asterisk-like mark? That means favorite childe. Angel told me that very few vampires allow their favorite childer to mark themselves in that manner. It's a real big honor or something."
"So they're just going to fight until one of them cries uncle?" Willow asked.
"They'll fight until one of them dominates the other," Cordelia said.
"How will we know when that happens?" Xander said.
Cordelia looked at Xander. "When one of them starts fucking the other."
Xander's eyes bulged and his gaze shot back to the two vampires. "Why aren't we stopping them? I don't want to see that!" He moved around the other side of the couch to go towards the stereo and suddenly found himself shoved back by Oz. The werewolf's lips were curled back in a similar manner to the vampire's.
"Back off," Oz said in a deadly, low tone. Xander scrambled back behind the couch and stared at Oz. Oz met his gaze steadily, then turned and began pacing in front of the couch, his head jerking towards the speakers every-so-often.
"Cordelia, you said Angel did this before," Willow said. "Does that mean...um..."
"He was the dominant," Cordelia answered. "It was the most vicious, savage, erotic fight I'd ever seen."
The five behind the couch all turned their eyes to the two vampires. They watched as Spike's hand shot out and hit the number five on the track selection. The low sounds of Control filled the room, the electronic instruments building in speed as the song began. Suddenly, the main beat began and the two vampires launched themselves at each other.
They hit with the smack of skin, tangling together as they hit the floor. Like animals, they rolled and clawed, threw and bit each other. Their continual snarls and savage cries filtered over the pulsating music coming from the speakers. Oz had dropped to his own haunches, leaning forward on the knuckles of one hand, watching with hard intensity.
The entire open area of the floor was used as Angel and Spike fought. Several times one would have the other pinned, only for that other to escape at the last second. The carpeting was splattered with blood, turning the beige fibers ruby-colored. The air visibly shimmered with electricity and heat, the scent of pure maleness hit those watching, causing them to tremble with the eroticism.
They watched in voyeuristic fascination as Angel pinned Spike face-first to the floor and sank his fangs into the nape of the younger vampire's neck. They saw Spike's jeans ripped from his backside and Angel shoving down his own pants to his thighs, his canines still in Spike's neck.
Claws sank into the skin around the blond's hips as Angel yanked them upwards. The older vampire shoved Spike's legs apart with his knee. The sound Spike made was almost like an animal howling as he was penetrated. The five winced, but continued to watch as Angel forcefully slammed into Spike again and again. Oz, however, clawed at the floor with his fingernails, making an different sort of animalistic cry -- one of a victorious nature.
Angel thrust into Spike fully and his snarl of orgasm echoed over the stereo. Then he abruptly pulled out and released Spike's nape, flipped the younger vampire over and smashed his lips to his childe's. The music ended abruptly and the room descended into a thick silence, as Oz cut off at the same time.
They watched as Angel slowly raised his head, breaking away from Spike's mouth, and gazed down at the younger vampire. Then he bent down and licked the symbol on his childe's pectoral. He spoke two words, his voice harsh and guttural, and they cut through the silence like a knife. "My boy."
"Yes," Spike stated, his voice equally as low and raw.
Cordelia sneezed.
Angel's head shot up and Spike turned his sideways, their twin golden pairs of eyes pinning her down. "What? I sneezed," Cordelia said. "It's not my fault you need to vacuum."
Spike winced when Buffy dabbed at a particularly nasty cut across his stomach. The arm around his shoulder tightened a moment, then relaxed, as the vampire beside him received the same treatment from Cordelia. They were perched on the coffee table, which was still pushed to one side of the room, and the music had been changed to a light rock radio station in order to dispel the intense atmosphere in the basement.
"Do you think we'll see Oz and Willow again tonight...er, this morning?" Buffy asked.
"Doubt it," Angel answered. "If Oz heard even a tenth of what we did, Willow won't be able to walk, let alone come out of that bedroom."
Shortly after Cordelia had sneezed, the group heard a squeak, then saw a flash of red as Willow as whisked up the stairs by Oz. It had taken Angel and Spike a few minutes longer to regain their senses and slide back into their human masks. Spike had been embarrassed by what the others had witnessed, however, Angel was anything but. He was acting both proud and possessive, and his arm had yet to be removed from around Spike's shoulder. He wouldn't even let Spike get another pair of trousers. The ones he'd changed into Buffy had fetched for him.
"What did you hear?" Xander asked. He and Anya were seated on the stools in front of the bar, a drink in each of their hands. "And why did Oz hear it, but not us?"
"Werewolf side-effect perhaps," Angel said with a shrug. He took a sip of the drink in his hand. "As for what we heard, it's hard to explain. The closest thing I can compare it to is subliminal messages that affects our demons, causing us to compete."
"If you knew this would happen, Spike, why was that music in the CD player?" Anya asked.
"I didn't know I'd left it in there," Spike answered quietly. He was studiously avoiding meeting anyone's eyes, still feeling acutely embarrassed not only for being fucked in front of them, but for willingly admitting to Angel's claiming him by saying yes to his sire's proprietary words.
A secret part of him, however, was ecstatic by the claim. It meant that he was still Angel's favorite childe, even though his sire had his soul. When Angelus had returned to the fold a few years back, he had hoped that they could go back to the way things were between him and his sire and Drusilla. It had soon become apparent that wasn't to be the case due to Angelus' obsession with Buffy and his injury. It had hurt that his sire hadn't wanted him, almost as much as his purposely taking Drusilla away.
In the past, Angelus had a sire's right to have Drusilla any time he wanted to, but he had encouraged Spike and Drusilla to be together. When he'd returned after losing his soul, he'd intentionally pulled them apart and they had not reconciled since, leaving him adrift and alone for the first time in centuries. It had been a blessing, rather than a curse, that he'd been forced into helping Buffy and company; for he then had a specific place in the world again.
And now that Angel had reestablished he still claimed Spike, he was no longer alone.
"Why was it in there to begin with?" Buffy asked, curiously. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of iodine as she cleane