Violently Happy

Part 6e, Rating NC-17

Scene 11

Miranda walks through the door, past Angel and starts to hobble down the walk to the shed. He can tell she’s tired and despite her protestations, he lifts her up and carries her the rest of the way. They enter the shed, which is actually a decent size, as such things go. Once inside, there is an awkward silence. Finally, Angel speaks.

Angel: “You feel OK? I can look for a chair if...[She shakes her head, but leans back against the side of the structure. sil silence.] You look good. Didn’t think you’d be up and about so soon. [She’s looking down] That dress...it’s...you look beautiful.”

Miranda: [cold and blunt] “We’re never getting back together.”

Angel: “Excuse me?”

Miranda: “Men always think that someday, they’ll get back together with their ex-girlfriends and I’m here to save you a lot of time and energy and say outright that you and I will never be a couple again. Buffy seemed to think there might be some confusion on that point.”

Angel: “You talked to Buffy?”

Miranda: “She was under the misguided impression that what I did for you had something to do with you and me.”

Angel: “And it didn’t”

Miranda: “No.”

Angel: [He’s getting upset/agitated. He was sure that once they were alone, she’d be herself with him. His tone is bitter disbelief.] “Let me get this straight, just so we’re clear. You gave up a part of your soul and took on half the sins of my past, thereby arranging it so that someday I’d be able to have my soul permanently, with no happiness clause, so that I could be happy with someone else.”

He thinks saying it all out loud will emphasize [to Miranda] how ridiculous it sounds—she can’t possibly mean it.

Miranda: “Exactly. See, you’re not so thick after all.”

Angel: “He’s not here. You don’t have to say these things.”

Miranda: “Don’t have to. Need to. Else you’ll make everything impossible. Besides, it’s the truth.”

Angel: [This cuts him deeply.] “Then why?”

Miranda: “Honestly, I wasn’t thinking all that clearly at the time. I was upset, I cried out and someone with the power to make it happen heard me. That’s all. Can we be done with this topic?”

Angel: [looking at her, dejectedly—she’s still staring off to the side] “Will you look at me, for god’s sake? You can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.”

Miranda: “Can’t I?”

Angel: [this infuriates him] “Look at me.”

She frowns and then shifts and finally lifts her head to look at him.

Angel: “I love you.” [He wasn’t planning on saying that.]

Miranda: “Yeah, well, I’m sorry about that. I don’t feel the same, so...”

Angel: “How can you be this way? After everything.”

Miranda: “I don’t want to talk about it. [Her voice is still cold, but she’s looking a bit upset/teary.] It doesn’t matter now—none of it matters.”

Angel: “It matters to me.”

Miranda: “I said, I don’t want to talk about it. [disgust in her voice] I don’t even want to think about it.”

Angel: [grabbing her arm] “Stop it. It’s just us now. It happened. We were happy. Don’t you remember? [He’s somewhere between anguish and outrage.] We were happy, weren’t we? [pause] Or was it all a sham?” [This honestly hadn't occurred to him before.]

Miranda: [Seeing the hurt and confusion in his eyes, she can’t help but feel for him. She takes a deep breath. Her tone is more emotional now.] “Dammit, Angel, can’t I just be crazy? Wouldn’t that be easier for everyone? Can’t you at least see that it’s easier for me to be this way?”

Angel: [Seeing the distress on her face, he lets go of her arm] “I’m sorry. It’s just hard to hear you talk about our relationship like it was bad dream.”

Miranda: “Wasn’t it? In the end. Sometimes it’s better not to think too hard about what’s real and what isn’t.”

Angel: [bitter] “But you and Spike—that’s real? You’re so sure that you won’t change your mind about us, but you’ve already been through that with Spike. Or does your fickleness only apply to him?”

Miranda: [angry] “Fickle? How dare you. You don’t know the first thing about it.”

Angel: “Huh. Let’s review, shall we? First you loved him, then you didn’t and now you do again. I think that comes pretty damn close to the definition of fickle.”

Miranda: [deep, angry breath.] “In all the time we were together, did you ever hear me say that I’d stopped loving him? Did I ever once say the words “I don’t love Spike anymore”? No, because I couldn’t have. I chose you, but I never stopped loving him. That’s not what it was about and you know it.”

Angel: [He’s a bit taken aback by this.] “It was about you.” [It’s almost a question, as if he’s not quite sure anymore.]

Miranda: “Can we stop? This conversation will only lead us in circles. [Pause. Sincere.] I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

Angel: [frowning] “So let’s start again. Tell me why. If it wasn’t about us, then why did you do it?”

Miranda: [sigh] “Remember, it wasn’t a conscious thing—it sprung from me. But I think I understand why. I suppose it’s because it was the only thing I could do. It was one part of your life that was still within my power to change. All I ever wanted was to help you. You were so lost and I couldn’t bear for you to be lost again without me, so this was my way of giving you hope so that you could continue. You’re the hero, not me, so who would care if I went a bit loopy.”

Angel: “Don’t say that.”

Miranda: “But it’s true. For whatever reason, you were given a purpose. Someone decided that you could make a difference. It’s something I’ve always envied in you, in Buffy. I was put on this earth to fight for a bloody prize—I’m a living piece in a video game. There’s no greater purpose in that. But then I saw a chance to help someone who has a purpose. The way I figure it, whoever controls these things—the big players in the universe—can’t directly interfere. They do battle by pushing in one direction or another, subtly influencing people and events. They make use of what is available. They wanted to help you, but couldn’t do it themselves. They needed me. And, well, it felt good to be needed. To feel a part of something.”

Angel: “You think the Powers sent you to me?”

Miranda: “Didn’t you tell me that they sent you to Buffy?”

Angel: [He’s actually more dismayed by this than he should be.] “So it was all part of a plan. Everything that happened between us. None of it was real.”

Miranda: “They couldn’t control everything—that’s the point. We’re not their puppets. They can’t control how we feel, or even the choices we make. They threw us together, but ultimately we determined the outcome.”

Angel: “So, you did...” [He looks at her, wanting to hear the words.]

Miranda: [softer] “I can’t. [He looks away, disappointed] But I do remember.”

He glances back to her and nods, thankful for the crumb. She gives him a quick smile.

Long pause.

Angel: “You could still be a part of something.”

Miranda: [finishing his thought] “But not if I’m with Spike.”

Angel: “He’ll drag you down, you know that. He’s not like you, like us. You can call him William all you want, but that doesn’t make him a man.”

Miranda: “He makes me happy, Angel. That’s the beginning and the end of it. Trust me to find my own way. Who knows, maybe I can make my own something.”

**

Switch scenes to Buffy and Spike—they’ve moved to the back porch for their little chat. They’re standing, facing each other, about 3 or 4 feet between them.

Buffy: “So here we are, William.” [mocking tone]

Spike: “Here we are.” [He looks a bit uncomfortable.]

Buffy: “I’m not in the mood to spend a lot of time on this, so why don’t we just get to it?”

Spike: [smirking] “Fine by me. I always had a feeling you wouldn’t be much for foreplay.”

He starts to pull up his shirt.

Buffy: “What? No. I meant get to the arguing, fighting. Not...[she makes a face.]

Spike: “And here I thought this was all a clever ploy on your part to get back at Angel. I’m sure Alex has video-equipment strung up around here—we could get it all on tape.”

Buffy: “You’re disgusting.”

Spike: “Hey, it was your idea.”

Buffy: “No it wasn’t.”

Spike: “Coulda sworn you gave me a look back there in the house.”

Buffy: “There was no look.”

Spike: “Come on. A bit of a wink and a nudge—I’m sure of it.”

Buffy: “No winking, no nudging. [pause.] I get it. Distraction—nice try.”

Spike: “So I distract you? Tell me, is it the tight shirt or the baby blues?”

Buffy: “Stop it. Now. I’m not in the mood.”

Spike: “Funny, ‘cause...” [She gives him a look that stops him from finishing.]

Buffy: “Getting back to the point—think you can take me?”

Spike: [smirking again] “Depends what you mean by ‘take’.”

Buffy: [down to business now] “I’m sure you must be itching to take a shot, after all the punches I’ve thrown at you the past couple of years.”

Spike: “I’m not going to fight you, Buffy.”

Buffy: “That’s pretty smart. You couldn’t beat me before the chip, so why would it be any different now? But you never know—today might be your day.”

Spike: “Tell me that isn’t your best effort. Lame even by your standards.”

Buffy: “Come on, Spike. You’re a slayer-killer, I’m a slayer—you do the math.”

Spike: [scrunching up his face and looking to the side] “Um, in case you hadn’t noticed, pet, I lost my desire to kill you quite some time ago. I seem to remember us having one or two chats on the subject.”

Buffy: “That’s when you had the chip—you couldn’t fight me. Now you’re chipless, so...”

Spike: “It wasn’t the chip that stopped me from killing you—tell me you at least know that. You’re not going to make me say it, are you?”

Buffy: [quickly] “No. no. There’ll be no saying.”

Spike: “Fine.”

Buffy: “Good. [pause] But I rejected you. If memory serves, I think I might literally have spit in your face. Doesn’t that make you mad?”

Spike: “Ancient history. It’s not about you anymore. Hasn’t been for a while. You know that, too. This is all very unimpressive—Angel help you with the script?”

Buffy: “So fine, you don’t want to kill me. What about the rest of it? Do you seriously expect me to believe that you’re not going to kill anyone ever again?”

Spike: “Yeah, that’s right.”

Buffy: [disbelief] “Come on, Spike. Do you realize how ridiculous that sounds? And how stupid I would have to be to believe you?”

Spike: “Believe what you like.”

Buffy: “So from here on out, it’s going to be all puppies and video games and rocking chairs? Not exactly the life I’d expect you to be interested in—you going to get your rocks off planting a garden?”

Spike: “Not puppies...cats. Anyway, there’s plenty of ways to get my rocks off with Miranda and I don’t just mean in the bedroom...[smiling]...or the shower, or the dining room table or...”

Buffy: “I get it.”

Spike: “I can still fight demons and help M steal stuff for her shop—it’s good fun, the antiques business. Filled with back-stabbing thieves and intimidation. And I’m pretty good at the whole heist thing so far—takes planning, that. Sort of a new thing for me. I don’t see why anything has to be different from the way it has been just because I don’t have a bloody chip giving me headaches on a regular basis.”

Buffy: “Back to the most pressing question from my perspective—tell me about your newfound respect for human life.”

Spike: “I wouldn’t go that far. If it were up to me, I’d still knock off the occasional murderer, child molester, thief, lawyer and the like—you know, pe who who deserve it. But Miranda’s a bit more particular, so I promised to swear off the whole lot.”

Miranda: “So what happens if she leaves you? I’ve got to weigh in the possibility of future killing sprees.”

Spike: [shaking his head] “She’s not going to leave me.”

Buffy: [correcting him] “Again. She’s not going to leave you AGAIN.”

Spike: [Ok, that’s a bit annoying. Still, he remains calm] “She loves me, Buffy.”

Buffy: “Drusilla loved you, didn’t she? And that turned out SO well. I forget, how many times did she leave you?”

Spike: [He’s clenching his teeth. He starts toying with the ring on his finger, twirling it around. After a minute, he looks up, resolute] “Miranda loves me more than anyone ever has.”

Buffy: “And you know this because...what, she told you? [laughs, skeptically] How do you know they aren’t just words? How can you be sure this isn’t just a convenient way to pass the time?”

Spike: “I know because I know her. In point of fact, probably better than she knows herself at the moment. And I love her, so...”

Buffy: [eye roll] “That’s kind of irrelevant, don’t you think? Your loving her—you seem to throw that word around a lot.”

Spike: [Shaking his head—he’s trying so hard to explain and she’s just trying to wind him up. Fine.] “You’re just jealous, is all. You’ve never had it, love like that. Maybe you coulda done if you didn’t have that special way of driving them all away with your super bitch powers.”

Buffy: “You’re one to talk. At least my exes don’t all go running to the same guy...er...girl…er person. It’s actually kind of funny when you think about it. I mean, all three women you claim to have loved in your life have all slept with the guy who is your complete opposite in every way. That’s got to sting. Oh and I definitely mean funny ‘ha ha’ funny, not funny ‘strange’ funny.”

Spike: [youch. Let’s redirect...] “Which brings up an interesting point, namely the effect your pathetic one-nighter had on ‘His Hero-ness’. Maybe this is all about your not wanting to admit the possibility that love can keep me in check, when it didn’t have the tiniest little speck of an effect on him. Well, that’s assuming he did actually love you at the time. Or maybe...”

Before he can finish, she punches him hard across the jaw. He shakes it off.

Spike: “You are SO easy to wind up, slayer. If the situation were reversed, you’d be dust by now. Personally, I think you still have some serious issues about the whole thing. Have you considered therapy?”

Buffy: “Shut up, Spike. This isn’t about me.”

Spike: [mock surprise] “What did you just say? Because I can’t imagine that I heard right—must be something wrong with my ears. Not_about_you??? And here I thought everything was about you, Buffy.”

Buffy: [angry—maybe a bit too angry] “Angel warned me you’d try to turn this around, just like you did with him. How dare you make him question himself—try to make me question him. He’s got more integrity, more strength and goodness in his little finger than you’ll ever have. Line the two of you up and any woman in her right mind would choose him. Best you can hope for is Miranda to stay a few fries short of a Happy Meal.”

Spike: [Jaw clenching, he fiddles with his ring some more and mumbles.] “You don’t get it. You can’t ‘cause you’re just like him. Fucking peas in a pod. [quick laugh] Or not fucking, as the case may be.”

There’s a brief pause where neither of them say anything. They just stand there—the mood cools a bit.

Buffy: [noticing him fiddling.] “She give you that ring?”

Spike: “Yeah. What’s it to you?”

Buffy: “You keep fiddling with it”

Spike: “Never been much for jewelry—takes a bit of getting used it, is all.”

Buffy: “I seem to remember you wearing a ring not all that long ago. And boy, wasn’t that a fun time. You said the nicest things to me.”

Spike: [Smiling at the memory. A bit sheepish.] “Got some good ones in, didn’t I?”

Buffy: “That’s the Spike I know without the chip. That’s who I can’t let walk out of here.”

Spike: “He doesn’t exist anymore.”

Buffy: “Because of her?”

Spike: “I don’t know—because of all of it. You, Dawn...all of it. Maybe having the chip made me see things I wouldn’t have seen. [pause] It could’ve been you—you were the first human I ever cared about. You and your little family. Your mum and your little sis—they treated me like anybody else. But you never gave me a second look—never took notice. I tried the best I knew how and not you or your bloody slayerettes ever saw—you never gave me a chance.”

Buffy: “Gee, sorry we didn’t all jump on the ‘Spike is a good guy’ train at the first stop— it’s not so easy to get past the idea of the murderous blood sucking fiend we knew so well before.”

Spike: [laughing] “You know, Miranda told me once, back when we first got together, that I was lucky you wouldn’t let yourself see me. She said I could never be what you think you want and I could never be happy knowing that. I was dubious at the time, but I think she was dead on. Hell, I don’t know how this is going to go. Don’t even know how things have changed, but they have. One thing I do get is that that you’ll never trust me and so maybe you never should—if I live up to your expectations and I’ll be snacking on the slurpee guy at the Gas n’ Sip before week’s end. The thing is, right off, Miranda’s been trusting me a tiny bit every day—first one thing, then another. Later on, asking me to do things that no one in their right mind would ask of a vampire and I said as much at the time. But, I don’t know, somehow, bit by bit I got used to the idea of just doing it, because...well, just because. [Pause for a moment. He looks straight at Buffy and with the utmost sincerity, says:] Miranda sees who I could be, but loves who I am—that’s all the strength a bloke needs, really, to do anything.”

Buffy: [Buffy just looks at him for a moment in silence—she can’t help but be sympathetic/moved by his little speech. He seems so sincere. She stands there, looking a bit confused. In a small voice.] “Guess it all worked out for the best.”

Spike: [Sensing the change in her demeanor.] “So? Come on, say it. Once more.” [He puts his hand to his ear.]

Buffy: [Can’t stop herself from a small smirk.] “I’m not going to kill you. Right this second.”

Spike: “That wasn’t so hard now, was it? You going to talk some sense into you’re big oaf of an ex, or what?”

Just then, there’s a commotion inside the house and Willow comes rushing out.

Willow: “Hey, sorry to interrupt. [Sensing the heavy mood.] You guys weren’t having a ‘moment’, were you?”

Simultaneously.

Buffy: “Kind of.” Spike: “No.”

Willow: “Anyway, Duncan’s on the phone. Cordelia had a vision—We need to get everyone inside.”

Scene 12

Spike and Buffy head inside. Everyone is still in the living room. On the table is the Scattegories die, turned to ‘V’. We see the scorecards, with ‘vampire’ on the top of everyone’s list and then crossed out.

Buffy: “What are you guys still doing here? I thought I told you to take off.”

Xander: [guilty] “Uh, we were just watching some TV.”

Buffy: [incredulous] “TV?”

Anya: “Alex patched in the video from outside, so we could keep an eye on you guys.”

Xander: [Xander gives Anya an annoyed look.] “You know, in case something happened...and, uh...you needed our help.”

Buffy: “You were spying on us?”

Willow: “Not just you—he’s got Angel and Miranda on video 2.”

Tara: “Sorry, we couldn’t seem to pull our eyes away.”

Xander: “Like watching a train wreck.”

Anya: “Or free porn. We all put $5 in the ‘action’ pool—Xander had fighting, I had kissing and Dawn had hugging. Xander gave me 100:1 odds that if there was kissing it wouldn’t be you two.”

Buffy: “Guys, this isn’t reality TV—it’s my life. Our lives.”

Xander: “Yeah, but it’s your life and it’s on TV, so I think that pretty much qualifies it as ‘reality TV’—strictly speaking. [off her look] But it is so obviously wrong, that we’re ashamed of ourselves and it will never happen again. Right Willow?”

Willow: “Hey, it wasn’t my idea.”

Tara: “Actually...”

Willow: “So Duncan called and...”

Angel arrives at the door, carrying Miranda. Alex had informed them of what was going on via walky talky. Angel hits the barrier.

Angel: “Well?”

Miranda: “Promise no fighting?”

Angel: “Fine.”

Miranda: “Everyone heard that? [nods] Come in, Angel.”

He steps through the door and sets Miranda down on a chair—she looks spent.

Angel: “What did Duncan say?”

Willow: “Cordelia had a vision—about us.”

Just as she starts her next thought, Alex comes sliding down the banister of the stairs, look freaked out. They speak simultaneously.

Willow: “Trachys is on his way.” Alex: “Trachys is close—maybe 5-10 minutes.”

Willow: “[to Buffy] he's an evil, very strong Immortal-type. Cordelia seemed to think that he’s after Duncan. And he’s bringing back-up.”

Miranda: “Why would he be coming for Duncan? I’m the easy target.”

Spike: [to Alex] “When did Trachys leave the day of the rumble?”

Alex: “Just after Miranda and Lucifer started fighting.”

Spike: “He probably assumes you lost.”

Miranda: [defensive] “Seems a bit rude for him to just assume that I’d get my ass kicked. I was doing really well there in the beginning, wasn’t I?”

Spike: [slightly uncomfortable] “Yeah, well, better than expected. It WAS Lucifer, love.”

Miranda: [frowning] “Fine.”

Alex: [getting freaked out] “But she’s not dead and she can’t fight him.”

Angel: “How far away is Duncan?”

Willow: “They’re about 20 miles outside of town and stuck at a train crossing—I’d say 45 minutes at least before they can get here.”

Alex: [pacing] “What are we going to do? Where can we go?”

Miranda: “Nowhere. If he's this close, it’s not worth running. At least we’ve got familiar surroundings.”

Angel: “So we immobilize him when he gets here—between me and Buffy, we can take him down pretty easily.”

M & Alex: “No.”

Alex: “It’s against the rules.”

Angel: “I don’t really see how the rules are relevant if she’s dead.”

Miranda: “They do matter. However, there is some flexibility. You can stall him, certainly, and take away his back-up, but if he wants to fight, I have to fight. Besides, you shouldn’t underestimate him—he’ll do anything to get to me once he feels I’m here. Nobody is safe. [looking slightly panicked] Somebody help me out of this bloody dress.”

Spike hands a cigarette to Alex, because he looks so freaked. He takes it and starts puffing frantically.

Spike: “Hang on a minute. When he gets here, he’ll be surprised to find you alive. He’s likely thought that your battle with Lucy was just like any other Immortal battle, right?”

Angel: “Yeah, so?”

Spike: “So if you’re alive...”

Miranda: “He’ll think that I won. The thought of me channeling Lucifer should intimidate the hell out of him. No pun intended. On second thought, I’ll take the pun. [deflated] But once he sees me, he’ll know I haven’t had the Quickening.”

Pause while everyone thinks. Suddenly Xander stands up and points his finger.

Xander: “I got it. Man in Black. She can be the Man in Black.”

Buffy: “Willow, translation please?”

Xander: “THE MAN IN BLACK—you know, from The Princess Bride. Work with me, people. André the Giant, Shrieking eels, Rodents of Unusual Size, Prince Humperdink? [blank looks] You people obviously STUDIED in high school.”

Alex: “Inconceivable?”

Xander: [excited, he points at Alex] “Inconceivable!”

Miranda: “We’re familiar with the film, Xander, What’s your point?”

Xander: “Oh, right, so after they bring Westley, The Man in Black, back to life—well, he was only mostly dead—they went to the castle, but he was still all floppy and stuff. So they propped him up and made it look like he was perfectly healthy. So when the prince came to fight him, after many insults and lots of talk about pain, the prince surrendered thinking that Westley would kick his ass. So we dress you up and make you look like you won the fight against Lucifer and the evil scary guy will wet his pants and go running along home to his creepy minions. Do evil Immortals have minions? Well, whatever. You think you can talk the talk?”

Miranda: “Oh, I can talk the talk. I’ve been told I do a very convincing ‘crazy’ [glance to Angel] and so ‘evil’ shouldn’t be too much of a stretch. And maybe with a bit of chemical inducements, I can walk the walk. I think this is probably our best bet.”

Xander: “Ha! Misspent youth saves the day again. Now, if we only had a wheelbarrow. That would be something.” [Smiles to himself.]

Miranda: “Spike, can you get the white case from the medicine cab? [H? [He nods and rushes off.] Now, I need help looking the part—I’m visualizing scanky-bitch-bride-of-Satan or something similar.”

Anya: “I can totally do that.”

Miranda: “Girls—upstairs for my makeover. Buffy, Angel—if they arrive before I’m ready, stall them any way you can. Alex, you keep a lookout for any of his people trying to s int into the house.”

**

A few minutes later, Miranda comes back downstairs, supported on either side by Willow and Tara. They’ve given her severe Goth-like make-up, put black streaks in her hair and Willow has done a little spell to give her skin a lightly red tint. She’s wearing a tight black pleather top, but still has sweat pants on over her cast—Anya is carrying leather pants down the stairs for her to change into. They set her down in a chair and she plops the leg with the cast onto an ottoman so that it’s sticking straight out.

Miranda: “We need to cut off the cast.”

Tara: “Isn’t the cast kind of necessary for you to stand?”

Miranda: “I can’t fit the pants over the cast, and everyone knows that evil people wear leather pants.”

Willow: “Good point.”

She starts to work on the cast—it’s not plaster, and so is easier to remove.

Miranda: [wincing in pain] “Can someone find me a cigarette? [justifying] Evil people smoke—it’s a well known fact.”

Spike appears with a lit cigarette—he hands it to her and she responds with a nervous smile.

Spike: “You look...interesting.”

Anya: [defensive] “We didn’t have much to work with and there was no time for paper maché. I think she looks kind of scary—if you squint your eyes and pretend you’ve never seen a real demon.”

Spike: “Or she could be on her way to a Marilyn Manson concert. Which to me, is a bit more frightening.”

Miranda: “I thought there should be horns, but...”

Anya: [said with conviction] “Fake horns are insulting. [re-assuring] We’ll cut the lights on the porch—it’ll be fine.”

Spike: [with the ‘she’s crazy’ voice] “Okay. [to M] Here’s the drug box—what’s your pleasure?”

Before she can answer, Alex’ voice (out of breath) comes over the intercom.

Alex: “He’s just up the street. He’s got about 10 men with him. Angel and Buffy have gone to intercept. Hurry.”

Miranda: “Quick, the adrenaline.” [Spike looks through the vials and tosses her one, then hands her a needle. She fills the needle. Looking around to the others] “Don’t try this at home—professional on a closed course.”

She jabs the needle into the quad of the bad leg and winces in pain. The others help to pull off her sweats and put her pants on.

Spike: [disappointed] “Aw, you put your knickers back on.”

Miranda: [She can’t help but smile. To Spike.] “I love how one-track your mind is. [Quickly switching gears.] The adrenaline is going to give me about 10 minutes—after that, I may pass out cold. If it doesn’t work and I go down, I want you to take Trachys out before Duncan gets back. And just so we’re clear, I want you to take his head.”

Spike: [nods, frowning] “No worries. You ready for our big entrance?”

They can hear shouting and fighting just outside the door.

Miranda: [to Spike] “Here we go. Probably would be best if you got all bumpy before we head out.”

**

Switch scenes to outside the house. Trachys and his men are slowly pushing towards the house. Angel and Buffy would have more easily been able to take them out, except that they have guns—so Buffy has had to be careful and more defensive than usual. As they reach the porch and Trachys feels the presence of an Immortal, he puts his hand up to stop the fighting.

Trachys: [loudly] “It is no longer prudent for your people to interfere, Duncan. You risk disqualification, now that we are in proximity.”

Angel: “Duncan’s not inside.”

Trachys: [laughing] “I don’t know what you are or why this is your business, but it is pointless to lie. I can feel him. Only one Immortal in this region has such a powerful presence.”

Buffy: “Or maybe, your information is outdated.”

Miranda walks out of the house, arm-in-arm with vamped-out Spike (he’s covertly supporting her left side as she walks).

Miranda: “Duncan’s not here.”

Trachys: [visibly surprised] “Miranda? I thought you were...”

Miranda: “Dead? Now what would have given you that idea?”

Trachys: “I...uh...I didn’t think...”

Miranda: “That I could beat him? I am just a girl, after all. [laughs] With a few tricks...and a very, very nice little sword.”

Trachys: [Skeptical. He looks at Spike and then at Angel, who is now in game face as well, then back at Miranda.] “So where’s the sword now?”

Miranda: [Crap—why did I bring that up? She had thought, briefly, about trying to disguise one of hers to look like it, but there was no time.] “We made a deal, ol’ Lucy and I. I beat him, fair and square, but he didn’t die like any other Immortal—not completely anyway. You see, most of his essence was still tied into another realm. But, he’s a fair man, so he offered to give me all the power I could handle—the sum of what he’d been able to manifest with the help of his priests on that day—in exchange for the sword. That way, he’s got the power down below, and I’ve got the power here to do his will—it’s win-win.”

Trachys: [thinks about it for a minute] “Nice story, little angel, but do you really think you can fool me with Halloween make-up? I mean, honestly, what are these guys supposed to be—vampires? Please.”

Miranda: “Spike, would you care to show my good friend here, what you can do with your Halloween make-up?”

Spike gives her a look and then takes a step away from her—he looks relieved that she’s still standing. But before he leaves the porch, Angel grabs one of Trachys’ men.

Angel: “I’m closer—and hungrier.”

He chomps on the guy’s neck and then tosses him so that he lands at Trachys’ feet.

Miranda gives Angel a fleeting smile. Spike looks a little disappointed.

Trachys: [coolly assessing the situation, kicking his ‘man’ over on his back, so that he can see the bite marks.] “One more thing.” [Miranda’s hand is starting to shake. She quickly wraps it around the handle of her sword.] “If you’re so powerful now, why stand there telling me instead of taking my head? You don’t seem overly anxious to fight. Maybe it’s all a bluff.

Miranda: “But don’t you see? We’re on the same side now, inasmuch as there are sides in our little game. There’s still so much fighting to be done—why not spread the burden? Better to be you and me in the final battle than bloody Duncan or Samuel—least that’s what He says. Besides, you’ve done well, but you’re hardly worth killing now. Much better strategy to let you rack up some more points before taking you down. [sigh] I rather had my heart set on Duncan for today, but I could conceivably be persuaded otherwise. I do hate to wait.”

She rights her sword and takes a step forward, threateningly.

Trachys: [now uncomfortable] “No, no. By all means, save your energy for Duncan. Until next time.”

He signals for his men to leave. Frowning, he quickly heads off. It takes a while for them to be out of sight, so Miranda signals to Spike to come help her (covertly), while she summons all the energy she has to keep standing. After a moment, she goes limp.

Miranda: “And I’m spent.”

Xander comes out onto the porch.

Xander: “Hey, it worked! I would’ve thrown in a few more threatening comments about pain and torture, but whatever.”

Miranda smiles at him.

Spike: [to Xander] “I suppose you’re only mostly useless.”

They all go inside. Miranda’s eyes are fluttering.

Miranda: “Can someone get me some coffee? Maybe with a bit of whiskey?”

Alex appears with the coffee and hands it to Miranda. She takes a few sips and uncharacteristically, Alex sticks around. After a couple of minutes.

Alex: [Sheepish, sad. He takes a deep breath before saying.] “I...I should take off.”

Miranda: “What?”

Alex: “Now that Trachys’ watcher knows you’re here, They’ll know I’m here and...you know. I should run, or something. I’m better at hiding, but I should probabun fun first and then hide.”

Buffy: “Who are you, anyway?”

Alex: [in a small voice, pointing to Miranda] “I watch her.”

Miranda: “He’s only supposed to watch, but he helped me—he saved my life. They’ll punish him for that.”

Alex: “That’s the best case scenario. It’s an ancient rule I’ve broken—a sacred vow. Who am I kidding, I deserve whatever they decide. I’m a complete failure.”

Miranda: “I’ll have none of that attitude in this house, young man. I hereby banish the word ‘deserve’ from these premises.”

Dawn: “Can’t we do anything? Talk to them?”

Alex lets out a nervous laugh.

Spike: “I’m thinking ‘no’.”

Miranda: [to Alex] “Do you want to leave?”

Alex: [Upset by the thought that she might think he wants to.] “No...I’d never want to leave. I’ve never done anything else.”

Spike: [to Miranda] “Maybe you could hire him—to work in the shop or something.”

Alex: “I’m not very good with people.”

Spike: “Oh, I was thinking more security, inventory—behind the scenes stuff.”

Miranda: “I think Alex’s skills could come in handy on any number of projects. Still, we have the problem of his previous employer.”

Aside: Buffy says to Angel, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”. They disappear into another room.

Alex: “I should go. It’s dangerous—they’re pretty focused and not very nice. I wouldn’t want anyone to...”

Miranda: “I’ve got an idea.”

Just then, there’s a voice on a megaphone from outside.

Voice (female): “We’ve got the house surrounded and secured. There’s no chance of running. Please send the watcher, Alex, outside to us and no one will get hurt.”

A whimper from Alex.

Miranda: [whisper to Spike] “Carry me to the door. [He does. She opens the door a crack and shouts.] “What do you want with him?”

Voice: “Miranda. We do not wish to inconvenience you in any way. Please, do not trouble yourself to protect him, for such things are beneath an Immortal such as yourself. Send him out and we’ll be on our way.”

Miranda: “Tell me why.”

Voice: “As you wish. He is defective and we will, of course, replace him immediately. In all likelihood, he will only need reprogramming.”

Miranda: “Yeah, that may be a problem. Hang on a minute.” [She closes the door.]

Spike: “They’re talking about him like he’s a bloody computer.”

Willow: “’reprogramming’ just isn’t a word that should be used in reference to anything that breathes [noticing Spike] or eats. Creepy.”

Miranda: “Alex, I think I may have a way around this—you up for giving it a go?”

Alex: [gulp] “Sure.”

Miranda: “Spike, bite him.”

Alex: [nervous] “What?”

Spike: [getting it] “They won’t take him if they think he’s already dead.”

Tara: [confused] “And how is him being dead better?”

Miranda: “Spike won’t actually kill him—just give him a big vampire hickey and take enough blood to make him pass out. These watchers don’t know squat about how this vampire stuff works. Spike, take Alex downstairs and come back up when you’re done. Everyone else, go hide somewhere. This whole hanging with the undead sure has its advantages. It’s like having a re-usable ‘get out of jail free’ card.”

Alex: [looking nervously at Spike] “Reprogramming isn’t sounding so bad now.”

Spike: [grinning, looking a bit too enthusiastic] “Don’t worry, mate. It’ll only hurt for a minute.”

They go downstairs. Miranda hobbles to the door and opens it.

Miranda: [acting a bit sheepish] “Um, I think we need to have a bit of at. It. I’m afraid there’s been an...er...accident.”

The woman who was talking cautiously comes forward, followed by two big body-guard looking guys. Miranda summons them inside, indicating that she needs to sit down.

Woman: “Where’s Alex? There’s no sense in hiding him—we know he’s here.”

Miranda: “Yeah, that’s the thing. He’s sort of here, but I don’t think you'll be interested in any reprogramming once you see him.”

Woman: [coldly] “Reprogramming is only one of our options.”

Just then, Spike returns from the basement.

Miranda: “This is my partner, Spike. These are...er...Watcher people. [Spike just stands next to Miranda’s chair and nods] The thing is, Spike is a vampire. Show them your teeth, love. [He does and they all start to look very nervous] Oh, not to worry, he’s not going to hurt any of you—he doesn’t bite people. Well, he usually doesn’t bite people. This is where things get a bit messy. See, we have been harboring little Alex—sweet boy, really. He did save my life, as you know, and so I felt a certain obligation. But, as fate may have it, my lover here got a bit peckish in the middle of the night last night and just couldn’t resist. It’s worse than giving up cigarettes, apparently. I intervened just in time, so he didn’t exactly kill him.”

Woman: [gulp] “Not exactly?”

Miranda: “He’ll wake up in a few hours. As a vampire. Listen, I’m dreadfully sorry about all this. If there’s anything I can do. [beat] Within reason.”

Woman: [skeptical] “I’d like to see him. I’ll need to take some pictures for our records.”

Miranda: “Of course. He’s in the basement.”

They go downstairs and find Alex laying on the bed, bite wound prominently displayed. The woman pulls out a camera and takes a few shots.

Woman: “Well. I have to say, this is absolutely unheard of. I will have to consult with my superiors to see if any action is necessary. For now, we’ll take our leave of you. Sorry for any inconvenience we may have caused.” [She bows her head, respectfully.]

Miranda: [overly pleasant] “No, I’m the one who should apologize. Just one more thought, before you go. You may want to instruct any future watchers assigned to me, to keep their distance, at least for the time being. We wouldn’t want any more unfortunate accidents now, would we?”

Woman: “I’ll be sure to mention it.”

They leave. Miranda slaps a bandage on Alex’s neck and then collapses on the bed, next to him.

Miranda: “This has got to be one of the longest days of my entire life.”

Spike: “Yeah. We’ve had a lot of those.” [He flops down next to her, so now all three of them are on the bed.]

In a short while, Buffy comes downstairs. She says that they’re all heading back to her place. She’s also convinced Angel to leave with Duncan and Cordy when they get back—that he’s agreed to look the other way for now. She goes on to say that as the slayer, she can’t take the risk of letting them stay in town—any slip-up would be her responsibility and she’s not ready to have that hanging over her head. Plus, them leaving town was part of the bargain she struck with Angel to get him to leave. They can have time for Miranda to recover and to make arrangements, but Spike is pretty much under house arrest until they leave—if she finds him out and about, she’ll kill him. Here end-eth the lesson. Ahem. After she’s gone.

Miranda: [sleepily] “You get all that?” [yawn]

Spike: “New York, here we come.”

Miranda: “I’ll make some calls in the morning.”

Spike: “I don’t think Cat is going to like snow very much.”

[pause]

Miranda: “No offence, but...I still can’t stop myself from feeling that Buffy’s kind of a bitch.”

Spike: “Yeah. But she’s cute—in a predictably angry and close-minded sort of way.”

Miranda: “I guess.”

***

Writer’s note: I wrote a little Miranda and Spike PWP a while back for the amusement of my beta readers, which chronologically should go here. The thing is, unlike the rest of the story, I wrote it from Spike's point of view (just for yucks). I've pasted it in below.

Scene: At home with Miranda and Spike. Spike’s POV.

I hate summer. Twelve bloody hours of daylight can give a vampire cabin fever something awful. Sure, I’ve got it better than most now, but nevertheless, I’m not inclined to dive out into the California sun at midday. Hurts my eyes. And I burn easily. Just as soon stay inside and sleep or watch the telly or...[eyebrow raise] I wonder what Miranda’s up to. Heard her slink out of bed at a ridiculous hour. She’s been rather obsessed with tidying the past few days. If I get up and find her, she might try to get me to do something and I really can’t be arsed. Still, could be the perfect opportunity for good row. The thing is, Miranda’s always been good about putting me in my place—not taking any shit. That’s not to say that I give a lot of shit—at the end of the day, I’d say I’m better than most. But, I do, on occasion, deserve a good tongue thrashing. I can’t help it—I’m a bloke and I do and say stupid things now and again. Nothing too godawful, but things I really shouldn’t get away with. Used to be, she’d let me have it good when I messed up and truth be told, I didn’t much mind. She’s downright irresistible when she’s angry. And honestly, I need someone to keep me in line—left to my own devices, I have a history of putting my foot in it. Go figure. But that’s all changed. Ever since that business with Angel, it’s like she’s stepping on eggshells around me. I can do no wrong, which frankly is absurd. I get that she feels guilty and all about everything—well she should, but I’d rather things just got back to the way they were. So lately, I’ve been pushing it a bit to try to get a rise out of her. Aside from a few promising sighs, nothing’s come of it. She’s got to have a breaking point, though, so I keep with the game. Yeah, I’ll see what she’s up to.

[He puts some pants on and heads upstairs. He finds her folding laundry. She smiles warmly when she sees him.]

Miranda: “You’re up early today.”

Spike: “Was that sarcasm?” I say, hopefully.

Miranda: “It is the earliest I’ve seen you up all week. Since the house-cleaning started, I think.”

Perhaps, we’re getting somewhere.

Spike: “Think I may be allergic to cleaning fluids.”

Miranda: “I see. Perhaps we can work around that. How do you feel about brushes? The front hall needs a good sweep.”

Spike: “I try to stay away from things with wooden handles. Wouldn’t want to slip and end up a pile of dust—would rather defeat the purpose, don’t you think?”

Come on, love. Tell me to get my finger out of it.

Miranda: [shaking her head] “Remind me to pick up one of those swiffer things—the handle’s made of metal as I recall. [pause] Did you boil the empty blood bags last night like I asked? They were really starting to smell.”

Spike: “Nah—ended up going out for a bit of poker with the lads.”

This is a complete lie. I did clean the bags AND the bloody freezer, too. You might not guess it, but I’m rather a tidy bloke, me. Especially not fond of odd smells about. And she knows she would have heard about it from the idiot patrol if I’d gone out. Still, She stops folding for a moment and looks down. Oh, we’re close. She’s tightening her lips like she does when she’s cheesed off. She takes a deep breath and I’m ready for the onslaught. I feel myself get just a bit hard in anticipation. Wait. Uh oh. No frown. Usually the frown comes right after the tight lips and THEN the scolding.

Miranda: [in a much too pleasant voice] “We have to have everything ready to go by Friday, so if you could get to it tonight, I’d appreciate it.”

[She goes back to folding.]

Damn it. The thing is, I don’t like annoying her, really and I HATE it when she holds it all inside and acts all nice and pouty and everything. All I want is a good-humored row that will lead to a rousing bout of apology sex. Is that so much to ask? The sad truth is that just the thought of getting a rise out of her has given me a bit of a rise and now I know what I want to do with the rest of the daylight hours. Perhaps a change of strategy is required at this point. I can switch from useless to seductive on a dime, no worries. I light a cigarette and watch her—no need to rush things. Every time she bends over to pick up a piece of laundry to fold, I get a nice flash down her shirt at those wonderfully rounded breasts of hers. Miranda’s got exactly the right sized breasts—a nice hefty handful. Is that a new bra? It looks very insubstantial, which I like because it lets them hang and sway freely. Nice. She’s standing up straight now and the top of her knickers are just showing over the seam of her sweat pants. Purple. Wonder which ones those are. I start reviewing in my mind Miranda’s collection of panties when suddenly I realize that she’s talking to me. All I hear are the last three words...

Miranda: “...would you mind?”

Brilliant. I have no fucking clue what I’m supposed to say. Could go either way on that one. And from the way she’s standing, I’m quite sure she’s already repeated herself due to my lack of response. Seriously what I really want to know is how likely is it that my answer will bugger up my chances of getting laid this afternoon. I’m a pretty good guesser, though, especially when it comes to women so maybe I can pull this one out. To give myself another few seconds, I take a drag from my cigarette. The next thing I know, she’s pulling the cigarette out of my mouth and throwing it out the window.

I say “Hey, I wasn’t finished with that yet.” I wasn’t.

And she says, now quite irritated. “I thought we’d agreed no smoking in the house this week—we’ve got to get rid of the smell before we pack everything up. I asked you twice nicely to put it out. Honestly, William, sometimes I think you deliberately try to push my buttons.”

Oh yeah. My lad’s at full attention now and I’m suddenly regretting my choice of such tight fitting trousers. Nevermind. Still not as much venom in her ‘honestly, William’ as I would have hoped, but it’s the best so far. And the frown. Yep. I fight the urge to say something about what buttons of hers I’d like to push. There’s an art to knowing at what point to let on that you’re gagging for it. My instincts tell me to hold back. Well, my instincts and the fact that she’s now doing the worst job of folding laundry I’ve ever seen. Seriously, she’s punishing the clothes. Now, unlike most blokes who would stupidly ignore this little clue and assume everything’s alright now that their bird’s stopped talking, I’m going to take it to mean that she is, in fact, angry with me at this point. I am the laundry, so to speak. So maybe she needs a bit of warming up before I indicate my desire to shag her rotten. Hey, I’ve learned a few things in my 130 odd years. ‘Course there is a certain appeal to the more direct route, which involves simply picking her up and carrying her to the bedroom. A bit risky in this situation. It could backfire. Right, warming her with my irresistible charm it is. I walk over and lean against the table with the laundry. I touch her arm, gently and with the sweetest voice I can muster say.

Me: “Hey, sorry about the fag, love. I completely forgot. I can spend the rest of the day downstairs and you can open all the windows up here—it’ll air out.”

She just shrugs, but I think she’s warming.

Me: “We’ll get it all done, no worries. I’ll stop being such a slacker. Promise.”

Miranda: [small smile] “I’m just a bit stressed, is all. [she shakes it off] Just keep me company while I finish the laundry, alright?”

I give her my best smile. She starts folding and I start lightly running my hand down her back and around her waist as she works. I get a little smile from her. She playfully bats my hand away when I tug on the exposed part of her panties, so I run my hand down over her ass instead.

Me: “I don’t see why you bother with these” I say as I snap the elastic from her knickers on her bum through her sweat pants.

Miranda: “Trust me, they’re useful.”
: “J: “Just another layer of fabric between my hand and your ass, is all, if you ask me. Nothing useful in that.”

Miranda: [shaking her head] “But they’re pretty...And sexy.” She says as she tosses a handful of knickers from the laundry at my face. I look at them.

Me: “Not sexier than what’s underneath.”

Yep, we’re getting there. Any moment now and it’s over the shoulder and into the bedroom. Or maybe right here on the table...

Miranda: [playfully] “We’ve been through this before, William. Any self respecting woman in this society wears undergarments most of the time. It’s just something we do. Now let it go.”

As I leisurely sift through the heaping mound of knickers on the table, I manage to mutter under my breath in response “Dru never bothered with any of that business.”

Hang on a minute. Did I seriously just say that out loud? Please tell me she didn’t hear it. What was that before about saying stupid things? I freeze, afraid to look in her direction. Maybe she wasn’t paying attention. But then she abruptly turns to face me. I’d like to point out that this is actually the first time I’ve accidentally brought up Dru. Come on, that’s not bad considering. I think about telling her that, but I just get this feeling it would only piss her off more. I also think about playing it cool—what’s the big deal? Most blokes out there wouldn’t even think twice about a comment like that. I, on the other hand, know women enough to understand that that one little sentence could get me cut off for a week. Damn. I shoulda gone with the direct approach. I scrunch up my face and look up guiltily.

Miranda: “Tell me you didn’t just say what I think you said.”

It’s the most fire in her eyes I’ve seen in quite some time.

I offer hopefully: “It wasn’t me.”

Who says you can’t learn anything from the bloody radio? Nothing wrong with a bit of humor in these situations, I always say. Her lips are doing something I’ve not seen before—they’ve almost disappeared entirely. There’s just a thin pink line where her mouth is. Ooh, there go the nostrils. Here we go. Now, you’re probably thinking that I should be pleased at this development—after all, I had just been trying to wind her up tight enough to pop. But the thing is, ex-girlfriends are tricky. Especially ones who have chained and tortured your current girlfriend. Well, it’s not so much that as that bloody dream she had—Angel’s memory of me and Dru in our heyday. S’made her a wee bit insecure. Tricky, like I said. Will have to handle this delicately if I have any chance at all of getting in her pants.

Miranda: “Dru may not have bothered with undergarments, but she was also a crazy_sadistic_bitch, with whom, I do not appreciate being compared, William. I cannot believe...”

I interrupt her before she picks up momentum—I’ve got an idea.

Me: “That’s an awfully rude thing to say about someone you’ve never met.”

This throws her, and all she can muster is a look of complete confusion (mixed with anger, of course).

Miranda: “What?”

Me: “Drew Barrymore, the curvy bird from Charlie’s Angels. You didn’t think I meant Drusilla, did you? How stupid do you think I am?” Smooth. Actually, the first ‘Drew’ that came to mind was the fat guy with the glasses, but I figured knowing anything about his dressing habits would make me sound kind of gay.

Miranda: “Drew Barrymore—as in E.T. child star. And how exactly do you know anything about her tendency to wear knickers?”

Me: “There was an expose just the other night on Access News or Hollywood squares or whatever the bloody show’s called. Yep, it seems ol’ Drew likes to go commando and it became quite the source of angst and ire on the set of her new movie. Seems it made her co-stars uncomfortable, what with the short skirts and all.” Clever—It’s all in the details.

Hey, can’t blame a guy for trying. I think I may see a glimmer of a smile—at the very least, I hope to get a few points for effort. I give her my best innocent bystander look.

Miranda: “You’re insane. What a load of bollocks. You’re not getting off that easy—you were talking about Drusilla, full stop. What dreadful timing. This is how you were going to seduce me?”

Wha? How did she...?? Women are bloody psychic. We men don’t have a chance.

Me: “What makes you think that’s what I had in mind?”

Miranda: “Come on, William. You always get this look when you have a hard-on. I can always tell. It’s one of the most adorable things about you.”

I’m not buying it. Must just be a lucky guess.

Me: “You don’t ALWAYS know. “ Ok, so maybe I’m a bit defensive.

Miranda: “Always”

This is rather disconcerting.

I blurt out: “I bet you didn’t know the other day at the Waffle House.”

This does get a smile.

She responds, sarcastically “I didn’t know hash browns got you so worked up.”

I say, with maybe a wee touch of petulance: “See, you don’t always know.”

Miranda: “Most of the time. Back to the topic at hand. What has gotten into you lately? You’ve been acting like a right prick and I’m not about to stand here and take any more. I’ve tried to cut you some slack, what with recent events and all, but this is too much. It’s time you took the finger out of your ass and started being more than just a layabout around here.”

Blah blah blah, she goes on a bit, but I just tune out and focus on her beautifully angry face. There’s my girl. But suddenly, her expression changes and she stops in mid-scold.

Miranda: “You’ve got a boner again.”

Dammit. It’s times like these that I wouldn’t mind seeing my reflection a bit more clearly.

Miranda: “You’ve been doing this on purpose. You’ve been winding me up this whole time.”

She looks at me like she can’t quite figure out why I’d do it. It’s true, of course, except for the Dru comment—that was an honest mistake, but I’d much rather she think it was part of the plan.

Me: “I just want things to be like they were.”

She does her little quick confused frown thing—I can see her mind working. After a minute, we lock eyes and I can tell she’s figured it out—she knows exactly what I’m talking about. There’s another thing’s good about Miranda and me—we don’t need to spell things out so much. We got a way of understanding each other. True, things got a bit muddled there for a while, but I think we’re back on track. I swear I can see the tension lift off her. No more eggshells to step around.

Ooh, I like the look she’s giving me now—a wry smile with some steam behind it.

Me: “Are you undressing me with your eyes?”

Miranda: “Now that would be a useful trick. How’s that erection coming along?”

Ah, Miranda. Not one to faff about. That’s one of the things I love about her. Well, that and the fact that she can fuck like no one I’ve ever been with. Or heard of. So the question of the moment: is it over the shoulder and down to the bedroom, or a quickie up against the wall to get things rolling? Off her look, I take a step towards her and press her back into the wall with my body. I grind my pelvis into her, letting her feel my hardness. She lets out a small gasp—it’s bloody music, that. The friction is nice—feel like I could pop the buttons on these levis in a minute if things keep going like this. She kisses me hard on the mouth and takes a nip at my lower lip—naughty girl, I can tell she’s up for a bit more than usual by the fact that I’m now tasting my own blood from her little love bite. She pulls her head back and looks at me with almost a snarl and dammit I’ve got to get out of these jeans and into her body in the next few seconds. I grab at her sweats and pull them and her knickers down to just above her knee, letting my fingers cop a feel on the way back up. Just as I work my fingers between her lips, I feel her hand reach out and grab hold of my cock through my jeans. I can’t help but let out grunt of approval—says she likes it when I make noise, so I try not to hold back. And, god she’s wet already. Don’t know how she manages it sometimes—I swear she can go form zero to dripping in less time than it takes me to get her naked. And I’m pretty fast at that, what with my brilliant hand-eye coordination and, well, vampire strength if I’m in even more of a hurry. I can’t help myself from sliding a finger in, between those amazing warm, slippery folds. It’s her turn to sound ridiculous. I think I’d describe it as some kind of squeal/moan hybrid. Whatever it is, the pressure in my pants is getting unbearable. I kiss her again, pushing my tongue deep in her mouth imitating what I’m about to do further south.

Breaking away, I say “So, you gonna set it free or do I have to beg?”

She takes hold of my belt and unfastens it. She unbuttons the top button and then stops.

She says: “What do you plan to do with that monster once I let it out of its cage?”

She does love her dirty talk, M. Personally, I don’t have the patience for it, but I’m willing to compromise.

I reply in a deep forceful whisper: “Well, first off I plan on sticking it in that warm, wet hole you’ve got down there. And then I’m going to pull it out and stick it back in and pull out and stick it back in and I’m gonna do that as many times as I can possibly manage before I explode. And afterwards, if you’re lucky, I may start all over again.”

Miranda: “Well that sounds lovely, William, but what’s in it for me?”

And with that, I decide I’m not going to play the game anymore and I quickly pull the rest of the buttons, lift her legs around me and push myself deep insider her. Now comes the loudest and most ridiculous noise she’ll hear from me today. You might think that would be later, when I’m shooting my load into her well-pummeled pussy, but you’d be wrong . It’s impossible to describe exactly what it feels like when I push my room-temperature todger into her 98.6 body the first time. It’s like my cock’s being licked by tiny tongues of fire—it’s close to pain, but of an utterly exquisite variety. Today’s more extreme than usual, as I just got up and haven’t had anything to eat—I’m cold as a stone. Or was cold as a stone. After I push in, I hold the position for a minute, savoring the intensity of the contrast—soon the brilliant pain subsides, as her heat warms me. The heat travels up through my groin and by the end of it, will have warmed my entire body. Well, assuming we keep at it. Just at this moment, I decide I want to fuck her all day. I never know until we get started whether it’s going to be a one-off or a day’s work. As I start to thrust, feeling the glorious friction caused by the motion, intensified by those amazing muscles she has that are like massaging sponges, I figure I’ll fill her in on my little plan.

I whisper in her ear as I start to forcefully dive in and out of her. “I want to fuck you all day. [thud thud] I’m going to keep driving my dick into you from as many different directions as I can think of and for as long as it takes to make your pussy swollen and sore. [thud thud thud] I want to fuck you ‘till you beg me to stop.”

Sounds a bit harsh, but from the sounds she’s making, she’s up for it. As this is just the warm up, I decide to be a bit selfish and keep up the current pace without interruption, knowing that I won’t be able to hold it long. She’s breathing heavily now and calling out my name (it’s always Spike when we’re fucking) as she digs her nails into my back. Yeah, she’s having a good time—she’ll get hers plenty before the day’s through, so I’m not going to pull out any special moves just yet. [thud thud thud thud] I’m so close. I swear I feel her grip me tighter from the inside and my knob feels as big as the bloody Empire State Building. I’m just going with it, feeling the pressure build—I’m slamming her pretty hard now. Hope it’s not too much, too soon for her, but to be honest at the moment, I don’t think I could slow myself down. She starts to let out little yelps of pleasure—she closes her eyes. God, she’s beautiful. I’m just about to give in to it and put an end to the warm up, when she starts to pant and says in an almost surprised voice,

“I’m gonna come.”

What? Now? Oh, Jesus. She almost never comes from just this—no fingers, no props—least not in this position. Ok, then. Change of plan.

She whines “just a little more, baby.” [thud thud thud]

Oh God, so now I have to wait, because seriously, despite what I said before, when Miranda comes with me inside, all bets are off. There will definitely be more ridiculous noises coming from these lips. In desperation, I start trying to think of non-sexy things. [thud thud thud] Oh, but she’s biting my ear and those whimpers. No. Must wait. [thud thud thud] If only I could think of something. Football--Manchester U. [thud] No. Uh, BBC documentaries. [thud thud] Xander. D wan want to overdo it now. What was that line from the Austin Powers movie? ‘Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day’, ‘Margaret Thatcher naked on a cold day’. That might work for a few more seconds. [thud thud thud] Oh this is it. I can feel her start to clench—she’s holding her breath. She lets out a scream, which frankly, I barely hear because I’m fixated on what feels like a million tiny fingers alternately gripping and releasing my now enormous rock hard cock. I stop the thrusting for just a moment to take in the sensation. And then I feel it hit like a tidal wave. I no longer have control over my body as I feel my pelvis reflexively thrust quickly a few more times as my body releases what seems like a gallon of liquid. And yes, I couldn’t stop myself from uttering some sort of groan/wail that probably sounded something like

“ugghau..gguuuahhhuhhh.”

Oh, shit—it’s a knee trembler, that. Literally, my knees are gone. I fall on my ass. That’s the problem with shagging upright—the knees. Miranda just slides down the wall until she’s sitting on the floor with me. She’s got quite the pleased grin on her face. So much for the warm up. I shake my head, trying to clear the orgasm induced cloud from my brain.

Holding back a giggle, Miranda says with a pathetic attempt at a straight face: “That wasn’t bad.”

I say “not bad? I’ll show you not bad.”

I pull my trousers off the rest of the way as I get to my feet, pull her up and toss her over my shoulder, her bare ass next to my face. Uh, oh. Here it comes. “phewapp”—Is the sound it makes as her hand slaps my naked ass. Ouch that stings. She can never resist when she’s over my shoulder like this. Says she likes the sound.

“Am I going to have to beat you?” I say.

“Please.” she responds in the usual way.

I turn to the staircase leading down to the bedroom.

She blurts out “Wait, the windows.”

And so I swing her around and stroll over to the front windows to open them. Get a quick flash of sun on my ass as I turn away. It sort of tickles. I take her downstairs and toss her on the bed. She giggles and then quickly makes hey toy to the edge as I hop on the mattress with a big bounce.

“Be back in a moment, love.” She says as she makes her way to the loo.

I watch her go and then return in a minute with a steaming hot wet washcloth. She pulls off the sweatpants and her socks. The washcloth is to wipe off the baby gravy that has now collected on the curlies of her lips and run slightly down the inside of her left thigh. She puts her left foot on the bed as she slowly wipes the liquid first from her thigh and then upwards to the slightly parted lips of her furry cup and I can’t help but think that’s got to be about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Just the idea that the juices were moments ago deep inside her, put there by me during that earthquake of an orgasm. The old chap’s at full attention again. This time, no facial expression necessary to give it away. I take hold of it because, you know, it’s there and big and that’s just what we men do. I watch her toss the washcloth aside when she’s finished and then strip off her shirt and bra. I never get tired of watching her. It’s funny because I’ve got a box of sex toys, videos and the like sittin’ in the closet, still waiting to be cracked. I brought ‘em from my old place thinking we’d break into it sooner or later to add a bit of spice to things. But we haven’t—never think of it until we’re already going and then it hardly seems the effort. Good to know it’s there, I suppose. We’ll get to it. What’s the rush? Not to sound all twee or anything, but this love business changes things a bit. Makes you need less to get off, I suppose. Listen to me, being all philosophical while I hold my enormous wanger.

“That for me?” She says in a damn sexy voice, glancing at what’s in my hand.

“If you want it”

“Hm. Maybe I need to taste it first.”

She crawls on the bed and comes at me on all fours. Hm. Tempting, but I think I need to taste her first. That mouth of hers is dangerous and I’d rather let it build a bit. So I reach out, grab hold of her leg and flip her onto her back.

“Me first.” I say as I get off my back and onto my knees.

I start with a little nibble on her neck. I try to cover every inch of it with the exception of the little scar from the last time I bit into her. If I were to happen to find my teeth in that spot, it might be impossible to pull away. It’s been a while—she’s been recovering for a bit and I don’t want to risk putting her out again. Another time.

“You gonna bite me?” She whispers.

I can tell she wouldn’t mind. I feel my cock twitch at the thought.

“Maybe later. I’ll surprise you.”

I hear her breath catch. This is our exciting new game. The uncertainty gets her very hot, though she must know that I wouldn’t today. Still, we’ll play. I slowly make my way to her breasts—can’t leave the girls out of this. I suck her nipples and then blow on them ‘til they get nice and hard. Perfect. Then down further, tasting the dried sweat on her skin from our more quick and vigorous bout. Just as I pass her belly button, I feel her legs open wider. She’s not terribly subtle ‘bout what she wants. Can’t blame her. I give bloody fantastic head. Besides, I’m a man and couldn’t give a flying fuck about subtlety. I scoot down and get in position. I take a look at the beautifully shiny, pink folds peaking out at me from behind her outer lips. I let my tongue slide in between, opening her up more. Hm—warm and sweet. She’s still a bit swollen from the vigorous thrusting, making everything a bit more firm to the touch. She lets out a delicious gasp when my tongue first touches the base of her clit. I move my tongue here and there, taking my time. I like being in such total control of her pleasure, knowing I have the ability to make her scream and writhe whenever I want. Soon, I settle on the part that induces the most whimpers and set to serious work. The faster I flick my tongue, the louder her moans and the harder I feel myself get. Any man who doesn’t find the whimpering sounds of a woman nearing orgasm unbearably sexy shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a muff. God, she’s getting close and her legs spread even wider and I think I must be leaking a bit, it’s so fucking hot—she’s grasping at my hair now. I think it’s going to be a loud one. Her breathing stops for an instant and then she grinds her pelvis into my face as she screams loud enough that I swear the neighbor’s dog starts to bark. Sometimes I worry she’ll set off car alarms. I can feel her opening squeeze against my tongue. Even more wetness now. I’m careful not to move my face until she relaxes and the pulsing just about stops. There she goes. A bit of giggling perhaps? Miranda’s a bit of a giggler. Found it a bit off-putting at first, honestly. You’re grinding away after she comes for the second time and she’s giggling like a hysterical teenager. Kind of hard to focus. But now I like it. Means she’s relaxed. I work my way back up and kiss her softly as I slip my ridiculously hard willie straight in. I’m warm now, so it’s not so shocking as before. Still feels fantastic, though—so slippery. I thrust a few times and then she decides she wants to be on top. We roll over and I take in the sight of her riding me—her breasts bouncing lightly with each of her pelvic thrusts. I could seriously do this all day. Not to brag or anything, but I’ve got some serious stamina, especially after getting the first load out of the way to take the edge off. So I just sit back and let her work on me a bit. So good. Hmmmmm. I close my eyes for a moment, enjoying every squeeze and twist of her body. Then a sudden cold as she raises herself off me—I can’t help but let out a complaining whimper.

“Be patient. It’s only for a second—haven’t gotten that taste yet.” She purrs as she scoots down and quickly takes my cock in her mouth.

Oooohhh yeah. Uh. Mmmm. Now I watch her lips slide up and down on it with her ass waving up in the air—not a bad sight, that. Again, I’m ready to do this all day. I reach down and touch her hair as she sucks me in and out—she can’t fit all of me in at once, so she squeezes the base with her right hand. My mouth’s starting to get a bit pasty, what with all the fluids rushing down to a certain highly sensitive area. Still, I’m ready to drag this out—maybe in just a minute, pus push her off and take her from behind. That’d be fun. In a minute. Wonder if she’ll...

“uhuhhhghhhg. Aahahggfuck. Aawwwjesusaaaah.” [etc., etc.]

She’s started that thing she does—the thing where one minute I’m in complete control, enjoying the moment in a fairly relaxed way, and the next I don’t think I could remember my bloody name. Seriously, my mind is wiped clean by the sensation of whatever the heck she’s doing to my cock. She’s in total control now. It could all be over in a matter of seconds. Never think to ask what exactly is going on down there, but I’ll bet it involves many different muscles, swirling, sucking and squeezing. There must be hands involved and maybe massaging. Honestly, I couldn’t give a fuck because I’m going to shoot my load deep into her throat and I hope she’s ready for it. I’m making any number of outrageous noises now—so much for stamina. I can’t stop myself from grabbing hold of her head and thrusting deep into her throat. It feels unimaginably good. I feel the spasms start and...

“uhgahgahhagshgeszegoh”

I think time has elapsed since my last conscious thought, but I can’t be sure. No, it must have done, as she’s now kissing her way up my abs to my neck. I let out a huge sigh, followed by a pleased purring sound. She smiles warmly at me.

“That’s quite a mouth you’ve got.” I stammer.

“That’s quite a cock you’ve got.” She replies, pleased with herself.

“Is it naptime?” I say with heavy eyelids.

“Sounds about right.”

We’ll save round 3 for a bit later, I think. She drapes herself across my chest and nestles her head into my neck. I run my hands across her back. This is nice. This is very nice. Maybe summer isn’t so bad after all.

**

Scene 13

A couple of weeks pass and Miranda and Spike have packed up the house and have loaded what they’re taking to New York in a moving truck. They’ve left a lot of the furniture. Miranda has signed over the deed to Willow and Tara, who can do what they like with the house until they die, at which point, Miranda will have the option of taking back possession of it. Alex is driving the moving truck and Miranda and Spike are traveling by car. Alex leaves ahead of them. Miranda and Spike are having one last cigarette by the car before they leave. Miranda is looking at the house, trying to hold back tears at leaving it.

Spike: “We should push off soon. Long drive and all.”

Miranda: “You think we’ll be back?”

Spike: “Dunno.”

Miranda: “You’re supposed to say ‘Of course. We’ll be back before you know it.’ to make this easier.”

Spike: “Never been much for saying things to make people feel better.”

Miranda: “Yeah, I know.”

Spike: “So what are we going to do when we get out there?”

Miranda: [shrugs] “I still like the side-kick idea...with the shoes and all that.”

Spike: “Traditionally, only heroes and villains have side-kicks, love.”

Miranda: “What about criminals or mobsters?”

Spike: “Girlfriends, maybe, but not side-kicks per se.”

Miranda: “I don’t want to just be a bloody girlfriend.”
pikepike: “With me not killing anyone, that limits our choices somewhat.”

Miranda: “We’ve got 36 hours in a car to come up with some ideas. Do detectives have side-kicks?”

Spike: “Maybe, but that’s kind of boring, isn’t it?”

Miranda: “We could be demon detectives—there could be lots of fighting and mayhem.”

Spike: [skeptical, shaking his head] “Not grabbing me.”

Miranda: “We’ll figure something out. [They put out their cigarettes and move to get into the car.] Oh, but more importantly we have to decide about Halloween costumes. I want to have a big party and invite EVERYONE.”

Spike: “We don’t know anyone yet, love.”

Miranda: “But we will. Maybe we should go as the Beckhams—you can wear that ManU t-shirt I bought you and one of my sarongs. But how would I dress as Posh Spice?”

Spike: [They’re driving away.] “That is the stupidest idea you’ve ever had. Why don’t we just go as Sid and Nancy again? The chest carving went over well lasme. me. And you know I always like you in fish-nets.”

Miranda: “You’re not getting into the spirit of this—we have to be original.”

Spike: “Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee. You could get some big melons and a blond wig—Alex could help with the video.”

Miranda: [eye roll] “Not a chance. Perhaps we should move away from reality a bit—too scary. What about Breakfast at Tiffany’s—I’ll be Holly and you can be Fred. We’ve already got Cat.”

Spike: [Spike makes a disgusted face.] “I retract my previous assessment of your stupidest idea ever. [beat] Courtney love and Kurt Cobain—Hey, I’m already dead, so that part’s easy.”

Miranda: “You’ve always had a thing for her, haven’t you?”

Spike: “She’s got a certain appeal.”

The chatting fades as they pull away. We catch the car again, as they drive past the ‘Sunnydale’ sign. The car screeches to a halt and Spike jumps out, breaks off the sign and tosses it in the back seat. He bac back in and they drive off.

THE END

Writer's footnote: Well, it's the END in a non-absolute sense. The thing is, this IS the last chapter of the main story. BUT, I have been working on a little post-script which I will share once it's completed IF folks are interested. As always, feedback is a great motivator :)

Also, as I mentioned when I first started posting this, the story existed in my head long before I ever tried to write it all down. Because my mind has much more time to daydream than my fingers have time to type, I ended up cutting a fair bit of the story out to make it a manageable piece of fiction. Therefore, there are a number of scenes that are referred to in the text, but not actually included (e.g., quite a lot of M&S's adventures in Europe). IF there is such a scene that you would REALLY REALLY like to see written out (e.g., one of my beta readers felt deprived that we didn't get to see Spike give Miranda the ring or the 'committement ceremony' that M&S were planning, but never actually got around to), tell me—IF it is scene that is mentally at my fingertips, I'll be happy to jot it down if there is enough interest.

Finally, I'm completely serious when I say that I'm happy to clarify/discuss any aspect of the story that you found unclear, confusing and/or illogical. I might simply agree with you, or I might have an explanation that could help. Either way, my feelings won't be hurt :)

Best,
Mad