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The First Stage

By: Phyer
folder -Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating: Adult ++
Chapters: 4
Views: 3,171
Reviews: 8
Recommended: 0
Currently Reading: 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
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Serious

Chapter Title: Serious

Author’s Note: Concerning Dawn; Personally, I’ve never been a big fan of bratty-will-do-anthing-including-act-like-a-4-year-old-to-get-attention-cause-I’m-so-nelected-and-unloved Dawn, so I kind of brought about her maturity advancement that we see in late S6 and earlyS7 a bit early for this fic. It improves things, trust me. Anyway, ya’ll know the deal. Have fun!

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"You got home late last night," said Dawn casually as she pushed the cardboard tab into it’s proper slit on the Honeycombs box. "Did patrols go okay?"

"Um, yeah. It was a bang-em-up night," replied Buffy, trying her best to sound…normal. Whatever that was supposed to mean anymore, she really wasn’t sure.

Dawn pushed a weak smile. "Good." She knew something was wrong…or perhaps it was just that something wasn’t quite right. Either way she could sense that whatever it was, it was the kind of something that wasn’t going to be talked about; at least not by Buffy. Dawn promised herself that she’d give a casual glance toward anything that may have gone screwy last night, but until she knew more there was not much she could say to goad her sister into talking about it.

"So, today’s shopping, right?" Buffy asked suddenly, in a too-quick attempt to change an obviously uncomfortable subject. "Wait! Or was that last week?" Her eyes grew large and round as she looked up from her still-empty cereal bowl to see Dawn quietly avert her gaze toward some meaningless area of the kitchen floor, nudging her cereal pieces about with a spoon. As the pause lengthened into a non-answer Buffy tried desperately to recollect how many times they’d gone shopping since her vows to spend more time with the younger girl. /Probably every other day. God, I suck! Why are things so hard to keep track of lately?/ In the back of her mind, she knew why, but it was not something she was in any way prepared to face.

"Look, Buffy," Dawn began gently, "a major reason for this whole hang-time thing was so that you could chill out a lil’, not stress out even more than before. We’ve been spending a lot of time together in the past few weeks, so why don’t you just take today for yourself and do a little relaxing. No obligations to anybody for as long as it’ll last." She finished with a warm, sincere smile that she hoped would silence the objections that would otherwise immediately come flooding forth. To her surprise, it worked. Buffy began to say something, but looking into her sister’s eyes, she took pause and finally just heaved a deep sigh that sounded to Dawn like a mixture of defeat, exhaustion and relief.

"Don’t worry," said Dawn after a moment, "I think Willow might need some company today anyway. She said something the other day about trying to talk to Tara, and by the glimpse I got of her last night, I’m guessing it didn’t go as well as planned." Buffy nodded slowly, her brow knit with concern. "No," Dawn said firmly before Buffy could even mention it, "I got this one. You worry about you today. That’s an order. Now go upstairs and take a really hot bath."

With dainty steps and eyebrows raised in an expression of amused surprised, Buffy made her way out of the kitchen and up the stairs without a word.

Dawn ascended the stairs as soon as she heard the water start running. Approaching Wil’s bedroom door, she contemplated what might be a good thing to say to comfort the sensitive redhead. After knocking twice, she figured that Willow either wasn’t in there, had fallen asleep, or needed a bit of alone time herself.

Heaving a sigh, she headed back down stairs and left the house quietly, her mind already focused on the tasks ahead of her. Dawn had been keeping a mental list of everything that was wrong with the people she cared about ever since the issue concerning her traumatic Wish to be closer to them all. She and Buffy had sat down to have a very, very long conversation that evening. It had started out serious and emotional, being mostly centered on all of the troubles in life that they’d been facing recently, but as soon as they’d started to laugh, things had gotten silly. It had felt so incredibly good to be able to openly criticize and complement each other with genuine smiles never fading. The talk went on ‘til well after three that morning despite the fact that neither of them had slept much the night before. The last hour or so had ended up being a case of two giddy, sleep-deprived girls, giggling until their sides hurt, about things neither of them could remember by the time they’d pulled themselves off the linoleum. Dawn hadn’t wanted it to end and she could tell that Buffy didn’t either, a fact which, in itself meant more to Dawn than any other part of thele nle night.

The two girls had finally crawled into bed just before four am, the elder tumbling hopelessly into exhausted slumber while the younger lay awake plenty long enough to see the sun rise. Dawn had spent the entirety of those two or so pre-daybreak hours completely still and deeper into her thoughts than she’d ever been. She’d mulled over a long list of things ranging from the fact that she still owed Buffy some payback for stealing her twenty dollar bottle of mousse and returning it more than half empty, to her ultimate role in life here on the Hellmouth. Her conclusions had had little to do with salon products.

* * * * *

Buffy pulled the thick, lavender-scented steam deeply into her lungs and contemplated an attempt at relaxation. Knowing it wouldn’t work she tried it anyway. She felt very strange; strange in a good-though-not-really-healthy type of way. Good in much the same way that HE felt good; indulgence. Here, wrapped in a moist, searing shroud of white, she let her thoughts roam freely over ideas that she was beginning to realize had always been in her mind.

Buffy knew why he wanted her. Knew the real reason despite all the non-sense he spewed off about love. She’d confronted him about it once and he hadn’t denied it.


…"Admit it, Spike! You like me because you enjoy getting beat down!"
"Hello! Vampire! What’s YOUR excuse?"…


The memory of that night was still clear enough in her mind that an intense shudder bolted from the depths of her center to the base of her skull merely at it’s generalized recollection.

/I’m just too horny for my own damn good,/ Buffy thought to herself. What was it that Faith had always said? Slaying always makes you horny and hungry. It was true. She could resist the hunger, but then again, last she checked cheese burgers didn’t come with livid blue eyes, washboard abs, and what had to be a full ten inches of - /Stop-it! You inane little hussy!/ Buffy chastened her wandering mind with a half-heartedness that bordered on sarcasm.

Of course, she’d stake Spike before letting him realize she held this particular opinion, but if there ever was a man who could justifiably put the "cock" in "cocky," that’d be Spike. And sure, he knew it. Why else wou man man of his endowments wear pants that hugged his every contour except to brandish those endowments to the world?

Yes, Spike was definitely a rarity in that sense. Though she’d only slept with a handful of men in her life up to this point, it hadn’t taken her long to realize a few key things about penises. Mainly, while size doesn’t always effect how good a man is, it DOES matter. Angel was a good example of this fact. /Not that he’s small…/ Buffy’s thoughts solidified into words to defend her first love. /Just that I’m definitely glad Angel took my virginity instead of Spike or even Riley./ Buffy smiled to herself the grin of a bird who’s thoughtfully eyeing the plumage of her suitors. A few months ago, Buffy wouldn’t have dared allow herself to compare and contrast her past lovers with her present one. It was not fair, and just plain wrong when all was said and done. But, at this point, that didn’t matter.

No, Angel had been an excellent lover. Easily more skilled than Riley and Spike combined. But where Angel had skill and experience, Spike had something that Buffy could only define as instinct. It wasn’t so much that he knew what women in general wanted, as it was that he seemed to just know what she wanted when he was with her. And if what she wanted changed so did what he gave her.

At first, this little fact had scared her. She’d gotten the crazy notions of a pubescent teen: "God, we match perfectly. What if this means something?" But after a little time had passed and she’d paid closer attention, she began to see how ridiculous the idea had been. He was amazingly attentive, and had an ability to interpret body language that was frightening. Powerful sensuality, a meticulous memory, and an impressive amount of control over his own body all combined with a good mix of selflessness and self-concern. It was a fantastic recipe for irresistible animal magnetism. Throw in super-human strength, sadomasochism, and an unwavering willingness to please, and it became irresistibility tailor fitted.

It was nothing less than a drug, and her only supplier had just raised the price of her fix. Her anger stirred again at the reminder of the prior night’s arguments.

/God, he made me look like such a fool! …Standing there all self-righteous like he’s got some sort of noble purpose./ All of the tension that had been soaked out of the Slayer’s muscles returned in a matter of moments as embarrassment and bitter anger ignited into a crackling rage. Mingled with the fury, like foul smoke wafting off a bonfire was an emotion that Buffy habitually would not let herself claim: fear.

Lifting her slender form from the tub she yanked the plug and stepped out onto the cool tile. Toweling the water off her skin, she began mumbling under her breath. "Bastard thinks he can show me up? Well, fuck him! No way, this is gonna stop now before it even starts." Even more important than recovering her pride was the matter of reinstating her dominance as Slayer. She didn’t need her gut yelling at her to know that a demon under the impression that he had some level of control over her actions or state of mind was a serious threat.

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PS, There has come into being a prologue to this story. Part one of it will be posted here at AFF within 2 days of the posting of this chapter. It’s called "30 Days and 30 Guys: Diabolus Divinus." So if you’re into this at all, go check it out as well. Tanks.

--Phyer

(*EDIT: Oh Cheese and Rice! I said 'prologue'! what a jackass! I meant 'prequel'...sorry guys [*turns into an animated donkey and bays*]*)
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