Resolutions

Chapter 8


Spike glanced down at the blonde head at his side and gave a contented sigh. He squeezed Buffy’s shoulder fondly and was rewarded when she looked up at him with a wide smile and a naughty twinkle in her eye. She returned his loving gesture by slipping her hand up under his shirt and giving his waist a gentle pinch.

As they continued their leisurely saunter to the Bronze, Spike mused that so far it had undoubtedly been one of the best days of his life.

It had started just the same as any other day since they’d established their domestic routine. Buffy had got up early and he’d turned over and gone back to sleep cuddling her pillow.

He had only discovered this day was to be different when he’d woken again mid-morning. He found that she hadn’t come straight back to bed once the house had emptied as she usually did, instead she’d gone out. Still fuzzy from sleep he’d decided to get up and go down to the basement for a smoke before going over the last few pages of the revised Slayer handbook that he and Buffy had been working on the day before.

They’d managed to cut the turgid tome of more than two hundred pages of tiny print down to a more manageable fifty pages or so by cutting out or rephrasing the Council’s long-winded outdated rhetoric, the majority of which had been misleading and the rest fatally inaccurate. They’d replaced it with no-nonsense, plainly worded information they felt would be vital for a newbie Slayer and Watcher.

Emphasis had been placed on the need for a team approach to Slaying that involved her family and close friends in the ‘secret identity’ of the novice Slayer to reduce the pressure on her of the need constantly to lie about her activities and sneak around behind their backs.

Watchers were strongly encouraged to develop a close trusting relationship with their newly Called Slayer and her family. They were advised to gather a cadre of experts in various fields of research and combat to aid her in her training and to keep her grounded in ‘Real Life’. Buffy was determined to help the young girls who would follow her and Faith to avoid the ‘death wish’ Spike had observed in previous Slayers who lived only for their duty. Hopefully they could be prevented from becoming weary of the isolation and unrelenting struggle of their Calling which was a risk if they had nobody other than an unapproachable authoritarian Watcher for support.

They had openly described the traditional ‘coming of age’ ritual known as ‘Cruciamentum’ and condemned its use in the hope that future Watchers wouldn’t be put in the position of being expected to betray the trust of their charges and that Slayers wouldn’t have to endure the anxious uncertainty that Buffy had experienced at the unexplained loss of her powers and then the terror of the ensuing ordeal.

Prominent place was given to debunking the Council’s dogma, ‘The only good demon is a dead demon’. They named and gave descriptions of several of the most common demons that generally posed no danger to humans but emphasised wryly that if she had incontrovertible evidence that a demon had attacked someone or was intending to, a Slayer shouldn’t hesitate to Slay it, whatever species it was.

They had composed a short chapter covering vampire social structure together with the method of turning and the obvious differences between ‘family’ and ‘minion’ vampires. They had explained ‘thrall’ and given simple instructions on how to avoid being affected by it and listed the enhanced strengths and senses that gave vampires the edge over humans.

Another thing they had added, unbeknownst as yet to Giles, was a few paragraphs covering the information they had received from Perpalla about Claims. Without making it evident they were writing from personal experience they had included the effects they had so far observed resulting from a full Mating Claim between a Master Vampire and a Slayer. Buffy herself had insisted upon inserting a single sentence warning the new Slayer that if she reached the age when she might want a physical relationship, a human boy would be extremely unlikely to be able to contend with her physical strength and fully satisfy her needs. They had deliberately let this entire section speak for itself without offering any leading advice to the inexperienced young Slayer who might be reading it.

Last had come a footnote recommending that the Council of Watchers should set up for each new Slayer a trust fund to cover medical bills and other Slaying related outgoings, including a generous clothing allowance. This assumed that her normal living expenses would be covered either by her family or her Watcher during her minority but they recommended that once she reached the age of eighteen she should receive a regular salary to reduce the pressure upon her to seek mundane employment and to allow her to concentrate upon her Calling.

It was when he had gone to get up that Spike had noticed that all the covers had been drawn back leaving him fully exposed.

And his wrists were shackled to the bedposts.

At first he’d been amused and excited by thoughts of what Buffy intended, but as time slowly passed and he remained alone in the house he began to get bored and irritated. The irritation mainly came from sensing her amused delight, which he assumed to be because of her awareness of his predicament.

Looking around for something to occupy himself, he found he could just reach the ever-present stupid little pink plush pig on the night table and brought it to sit beside him on the pillow. He amused himself for a while by holding conversations with it regarding all the things it had heard and witnessed as Buffy’s most trusted confidant, providing the pig with squeaky responses that focussed on the various scenarios his imagination provided of the times Buffy had been naked in this room with only the pig as witness.

He moved on to poking fun at Buffy’s abortive relationship with Angel and the older vampire’s obvious inadequacies. Then he began chuckling wickedly as he worked through implausible scripts and settings for her erotic experiences in which she’d called his name at the crucial moment when the toy soldier had failed to satisfy her, indulging in fantasies of the human being tossed out on his ear and himself taking his rightful place in her bed.

When a clatter at the front door at last signalled her return he rolled his eyes at his foolishness which clearly rivalled Dru’s at her worst, and nudged the pig off the bed. He relaxed just in time before she came upstairs laden with shopping bags and began silently unpacking and putting away her purchases.

When he had impatiently started asking what she’d been doing all morning and why she’d left him chained up in her absence she had smiled softly and leant over to press a finger to his lips for quiet.

Spike decided to play her game to see what she was plotting and subsided, watching her every movement like a hawk. It was immediately obvious she must have been to the beauty parlour as her hair was a distinctly lighter shade of golden blonde than earlier and the former clumsily applied streaks had been erased. The style was softer too, with wispy tendrils curled around to frame her face in a very fetching manner, similar to the way she had been wearing it when he’d first seen her all those years ago, dancing in the bronze with her chums.

Half way through sorting her new clothes she spotted the pig on the floor, reached down for it, dusted it off and set it back in its place on the night table giving it a fond little pat as she did so. She glanced suspiciously at Spike asking, “What have you been doing to Mr Gordo? I hope you haven’t been corrupting his innocent little piggy mind?”

Spike smirked. “Now what makes you think I would do such an evil thing, darlin’?”

Buffy rolled her eyes, “Oh I don’t know, let me see. Maybe ‘cos you’re, oh yes, eeevil?”

Spike stretched sensuously, causing the muscles in his chest, stomach and arms to tighten deliciously and ripple under the skin. The flex of his abdominals and thighs made his erection bob eagerly over his belly. He ran his tongue along his teeth and waggled his eyebrows. Huskily he admitted, “You’d better believe it, baby…”

Buffy’s breath caught in her throat with a little whimper and she absently licked her lips hungrily before she blinked, gave herself a little shake and forced herself to turn her attention back to her task.

Once all the new clothes had been neatly stowed Buffy winked teasingly over her shoulder as she retreated to the bathroom returning a short while later wearing nothing but a sheer ivory silk teddy that accentuated her healthy golden tan and did nothing to conceal her feminine curves. The fabric was so fine it was practically transparent and the darker pink of her pebbled nipples was clearly defined, causing Spike to unconsciously lick his lips at the thought of suckling them through the gossamer silk.

Biting her bottom lip uncertainly, she lifted one last shopping bag onto the end of the bed and glanced shyly up at him. “Anya told me about her favourite um… toyshop, and then she suggested I should go with her.” She visibly relaxed and sniggered. “It seems she’s feeling the lack of orgasms since she broke up with Xander and was in need of a little… um… stimulation.” She started taking a series of very intriguing boxes, packages and bottles from the bag, arranging them on the night table and dresser so they were close at hand.

Flushing slightly she added, “She claimed to know exactly what sort of thing vampires would be sure to like. I hope she was right…”

When she hesitantly produced a huge tube of lube and a double ended strap-on he noticed a vivid blush spread across her cheeks. She lifted the toy slightly and lifted an eyebrow in question, clearly unable to articulate her suggestion through sheer embarrassment.

Spike gave a low chuckle. If she thought she’d shock him she was sorely mistaken. Spend a century or more with the same lover and you’d end up trying anything physically possible to keep from getting sexually bored. You’d also find that if you were adventurous enough you could achieve quite a few extremely enjoyable things that weren’t strictly possible.

His response to her silent question was a surge of lust that left her heart racing and a quiet growl of approval and waggle of the eyebrows that made her grin happily. His tongue curled up behind his teeth and he purred throatily, “Oh yeah, baby. Just you give it me good, you dirty little minx. You have your wicked way with the Big Bad, then I’m gonna make you scream…”

She shocked him to his core when she cocked her head and mused mischievously, “I think I wanna see how many times I can make you come…..”

---

Spike couldn’t help smiling as he held the door to the Bronze open for Buffy to enter. His legs were still a touch unsteady but he hadn’t felt as content and relaxed for a very long time.

By the time she had made her way back from the ladies’ room having shed the trench coat she’d taken to wearing almost constantly, Spike had laid in an imported beer for himself and a diet coke for Buffy, and claimed a table.

She didn’t sit down straight away, instead she started craning her neck and peering around the club expectantly and it was only then that it occurred to him to ask, “So what happened to Pickle and the Bit then, love? It’s Monday isn’t it? They never came home from school today.”

Buffy looked at him with ‘duh’ face and said, “Hello? It’s Spring break? Anya took the day off from the Magic Box leaving Giles in charge so we could have a girly day. After we all did our shopping and went to the beauty parlour she Willow and Tara took Dawn to the beach, and then to dinner and a movie.” She smirked wickedly, “I made sure we’d have the house to ourselves for the rest of the day.”

Spike had a horrific thought. “Please tell me you didn’t take Dawn to the sex shop?”

Buffy rolled her eyes and muttered sarcastically, “Oh yes, of course I took my underage baby sister to a demon-friendly sex shop. Idiot vampire. No, while Anya and I went there, Tara and Dawnie were doing their own thing and Willow went off on the hunt for bargains at that old bookstore that’s closing down. Then we all got together in the beauty parlour before they went off to the beach and I came home to you.”

She resumed looking around, bobbing up and down to try to see over people’s heads with a little frown creasing her brow. “We were all supposed to meet up here…” She suddenly smiled and gave a little wave of acknowledgement towards someone Spike couldn’t see.

He was a bit taken aback when she picked up her glass and took him by the hand. “Bring that…” She instructed, gesturing to his beer bottle.

Obediently picking up his drink, Spike followed where she led towards the stairs to the balcony. He sniggered and joked, “Fancying another round of balcony sex, Slayer?”

Buffy rolled her eyes and chuckled, “Pervert…” She squeezed his hand, looked over her shoulder and winked. “Raincheck?”

Spike almost choked in shock but then they came to the foot of the stairs up to the balcony and he was momentarily distracted by a chain that blocked their way. Dangling from it was a garishly coloured hand-painted notice: ‘Private Party’.

Buffy ignored the warning and blithely unhooked one side of the chain, leaning back to refasten it after them.


*******


Spike sat back and observed contentedly as Buffy chattered happily with Tara, Dawn and Anya about their antics at the beach where they’d had a rousing game of volleyball and eaten ice-creams. It had been too chilly for the customary summertime seaside activities such as sunbathing and swimming but apparently it was traditional to go to the beach at spring break whatever the weather.

Nathan was sitting at a table in the shadows with Giles and Althanea. When his attention strayed from their conversation revolving around a small musty-smelling book he gazed wistfully at Dawn. Occasionally he seemed to become aware of his preoccupation and glanced anxiously at Spike to check he wasn’t overstepping his bounds by keeping an eye on the teenager.

Xander and Willow sat talking quietly on a small couch slightly off to one side. It turned out that the young man had taken pity on the homeless redhead and she had recently moved into his apartment. Spike had thought the obvious solution would have been for her to move back into her parents’ house but that option didn’t even seem to have been raised as a possibility.

She was currently whining childishly, both about the size of her room, which had until recently been simply a big walk-in closet full of boxes, and the fact that Xander never picked up after himself, particularly in the bathroom. His defence was that he was in the running for a big promotion at work and had to spend every spare second at the building site where the new High School was slowly taking shape on the site of the old one, right over the Hellmouth. He declared archly that he didn’t have time for ‘unnecessary’ chores while was making a concerted effort to impress his superiors.

Spike tuned them all out, sipped his beer and cast his eyes over the table in front of him. Upon it was the remains of assorted snack foods and a ‘death by chocolate’ cake with the stub of one slightly lopsided candle jammed casually into the remaining wedge. He shook his head slightly and smiled ruefully. Dawn had joked he would have to make his birthday wish on the single candle because if they used the correct number for his age they’d melt the chocolate frosting and run the risk of burning the Bronze to the ground.

He still couldn’t believe that they’d arranged a surprise birthday party for him. Most of the time a vampire lives very much from one day to the next so since being turned, apart from a few notable occasions he had never had to keep track of the days passing except in the most general of ways. It had completely escaped his notice that it was the date of the birthday that Angel had given him on his false papers, yet these extraordinary humans had decided to pick it up and run with it.

When he had jokingly demanded his due and started looking for birthday presents, not really expecting any, he had been assured there would indeed be gifts later when Clem arrived. The demon had to pick his moment to enter the club and make his way up to the secluded balcony in an attempt to avoid drawing unwelcome attention, and he was consequently running a bit late.


*******


Spike leaned against the railing overlooking the dance floor and occasionally took a swig from his beer bottle as he watched Dawn flirting with a tall, good looking lad a year or two older than herself. The boy had straightened up and smiled as she had approached, turning away from his friends to give her his full attention. After a few minutes they moved away from the group together and onto the dance floor, his Niblet wearing a beaming smile so brilliant it lit up the whole club.

Feeling a presence at his shoulder, Spike glanced aside and saw Nathan scowling down at the pair. “He isn’t good enough for her,” the younger vampire snarled softly.

Spike gave a sideways nod in consideration, “No, he ain’t.” He shrugged, “But then nobody is ever gonna be good enough for her.” He smiled proudly. “My girls are special, and they deserve special people to love.” He looked towards the bar where Anya was sitting talking earnestly with Halfrek, both women sipping brightly coloured drinks with straws and umbrellas and more fruit than he felt was strictly appropriate in anything other than a dessert.

He then glanced over to where Tara, who had firmly turned down Willow’s tentative request for a dance, was now fiddling nervously with the straw in her drink as she talked to a slender brunette.

The Wiccan was shyly peeping up through her eyelashes while her hair veiled the majority of her face, her body language screaming ‘I’m interested,’ although to him it was clear by her pointed sidways glances that the other girl was putting on a show for the striking blonde seated at a nearby table.

Idly scanning the throng below Spike spotted another blonde, shorter and more generously proportioned than the girl Tara was with, whose eyes never left the Wiccan except to glare jealously at her companion. He made a note to point her out to his friend at the first opportunity, his mind still stumbling over the fact that he thought of anyone as a friend, let alone a couple of human females, and added fondly, “All of them.”

He turned to the other vampire and asked, “Now, how’re you coping, lad? You haven’t been around so many humans since you stopped feeding, have you?”

Nathan shuddered, gripping the railing so tightly his knuckles were white. “It’s hard. There are so many heartbeats. They’re so loud I can even hear them over the music. But the scents… I think the scents are the worst thing. Fear and excitement and sex… Oh, and the blood… so much blood…” His voice tailed off wistfully, his face rippling as it threatened to change, the inexperienced vampire clearly having trouble controlling his bloodlust.

Spike nodded knowingly as he awkwardly patted Nathan on the shoulder. “Yeah, the blood’s the hardest thing to resist. Trouble is, whenever you get more than three or four birds together in the same place you’re always gonna get the scent of fresh blood. Trick is always to fill up before coming to a place like this that’s full of humans. Doesn’t prevent the Hunger, nothing ever will, but it helps you resist the urge to grab the idiots and sink your fangs into their throats.”

When Giles called Nathan over to rejoin the discussion that Willow had now joined, Spike’s attention returned to where Dawn was dancing and he frowned. When had the girl developed those curves? And where did she find that easy grace that defined her movements to the pounding music? Surely it was only last week she was constantly tripping over her own feet and knocking into things as she lost control of her rapidly lengthening limbs?

He sighed sadly as he finally admitted to himself that his little Bit really wasn’t so little any more. She was growing up, and there wasn’t a single thing he could do about it. He focused suspiciously on the teenager she was dancing with. Perhaps he’d better go down there and make sure the boy kept his hands to himself. Maybe he’d just flash a bit of fang and put the fear of Spike into him…

A warm hand on his arm stayed his impulse. “Leave her, Spike. She’s only dancing with him. Besides, can’t you see how happy she looks? He’s not doing any harm, and it’s good to see her having a bit of ‘normal’. You know she doesn’t get enough of that.”

Spike turned to the side and whined, “But, Buffy…”

“Leave her, Spike.” Buffy’s eyes narrowed, following her sister as she moved around the floor, her whole being focused on the gangly youth who looked as if he was eighteen if he was a day. She chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully for a moment then decided, “Or… Ooh! I know…” She took him by the hand and pulled him towards the stairs. “Come on, you.” She murmured teasingly, “You know you wanna dance…”

He chuckled as he followed her down onto the dance floor, “So you’re not concerned about her at all, oh no…”

“Not concerned. Just wanna dance.” Buffy muttered defensively.

As he took her into his arms he acknowledged that even more thrilling than having her scent covering him was knowing that despite a quick shower before leaving the house, under her skin-tight low-rise leather trousers and skimpy lacy blouse she reeked of him.

More sensitive human noses might catch the odd trace of musk as they passed close by, but to demon senses their mingled scents seasoned with the hint of powerful blood shed that afternoon for the renewal of their Claim would be proclaiming their relationship loud and clear. This gave his possessive demon an intense satisfaction.

After a couple of dances during which they both spent an equal amount of time keeping track of Dawn as they did concentrating on each other, she gave a little wriggle of discomfort and murmured, “Ew, gotta go to the bathroom again.”

Spike raised a questioning eyebrow and was rewarded with an embarrassed flush and a whispered, “Major seepage issues…” Spike couldn’t help but give a dirty snigger as he remembered what would be seeping and from where and consequently received a playful swat on the arm and an amused, “Oh… shut up. Pig,” as she turned away.

Some inherent feminine magic caused both Tara and Anya to converge on her position as she approached the archway leading to the ladies’ room.

Gliding easily through the crowd he managed to intercept Tara and whispered in her ear, “You were chasing the wrong bird, pet.” He nodded towards the brunette who was now sitting holding hands and openly flirting with the blonde he had seen before. He turned to discreetly indicate the other blonde who was now openly glaring at him. “See that gorgeous girl in the blue top over there… she’s yours for the asking…”

Tara’s eyes went wide as saucers as she shot a quick look in the direction Spike was indicating, then blushed crimson as she whispered back, “I… I’ve seen her around campus. Her name’s Tanya. I had the impression she was involved with someone…” before hastily resuming her course towards the ladies’ room, casting hesitant glances over her shoulder at the other woman as she went.

Shaking his head in amusement, Spike headed back towards the balcony, hoping that Xander hadn’t had the time to completely clear the table of snacks.


*******


Dawn came stomping up the stairs, flopped into the chair that Buffy hurriedly vacated for her by shifting onto Spike’s lap, folded her arms defensively across her chest and declared sulkily, “I hate him.”

Buffy’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “And there was me thinking the whole flirting and slutty dancing thing meant that you really liked him…”

“I did. Then Rebecca arrived. She’s a senior at Miss Porter’s. Suddenly I was superfluous to requirements. It seems he was only lowering himself to pay attention to me, the weird little Junior High girl, while he was waiting for her to arrive. We were in the middle of a dance when she turned up and batted her clumpy fake eyelashes and pushed her siliconey cleavage up at him. He didn’t say a word, just dropped me and went off with her.” Her eyes suspiciously bright, she waved an arm angrily towards the body of the club. “He’s dancing with her now. Hence the hating.” She pouted. “I wish he could find out what it feels like to be led on and then so totally ignored like that. It hurts.”

Spike’s quietly menacing snarl, “I’ll rip the bugger’s heart out…” was almost drowned out by a bright emphatic…

“Wish granted.”

All eyes gravitated in shock to the face that was rapidly morphing back into Anya’s human features.

“Oh, that felt so good!” She exclaimed happily.

“Don’t you think there something… I don’t know… you should just… perhaps… have told us, Anya?” Buffy’s voice was tight with anger.

“Well… it only happened a few minutes ago. I was chatting with Hallie over a drink and she was saying how proud of me she was for taking charge of my own life again and finally realising what she’d always known, that ‘that human’ - meaning Xander - would turn out to be an unsatisfactory mate, when she said she’d received a call and was just heading off to Florence to exact justice for a poor mistreated child.”

Anya lifted her head defiantly. “I only happened to comment I hadn’t been to Florence for about sixty years and really missed the wonderful delicatessens and all the delicious cheeses they sold there that you couldn’t find anywhere else. And oh the coffee! They have coffee to die for there… and how wonderful it would be to be able to teleport over there occasionally to do my marketing. Life as a vengeance demon was good, if a bit lonely, but as I said to her, I don’t think I’d ever be able to kill or maim anybody to exact vengeance again after living as a human again. Although there are certainly numerous advantages, my heart wouldn’t be in it.”

She warily looked around at her rapt audience. “I can’t remember exactly what she said next because we were interrupted by the barman bringing our fresh drinks, but the next thing I knew I found myself saying that I sometimes really wished I could go back to being a demon so I could have a real purpose in life, and of course all the perks would be good too… And then she said, “Wish granted,” and this pendant appeared around my neck…” Her hand went to the neckline of her dress and she drew out a fine chain from which dangled a very familiar looking deep blue stone speckled with little red flecks, “… and then before I could say anything she did that showy thing with her arms that she thinks makes her look important, and she was gone.”

Dawn rolled her eyes, “And you thought I was foolish for making a wish in front of someone I didn’t know. God, Anya! You know exactly what she is and you still used the W word?”

Anya shrugged guiltily but before she could speak the stunned silence was quickly broken by Xander’s shocked voice, “Anya! How… What… Why…” His eyes went wide with surprised realisation. “Oh! I know how to fix this!” Then his tone became commanding. “Give me the pendant, Ahn, and I’ll smash it for you. You’ll be human again and everything can go back to normal.” He held out his hand expectantly.

At this, an ironic snort came from the couch behind Xander. “Normal. Anya. Yeah, right. Good luck with that.”

Anya’s hand went protectively to her throat and she flashed once more into her demon visage, glaring past Xander at Willow’s sneering expression and prompting the young man to flinch back.

“Back to normal? You don’t understand, Xander. For me, this is normal! As far as I’m concerned being human was what felt all wrong.” She tilted her head to one side and a broad smile softened her fierce demonic face as she mused. “I’ve just realised. This time D’Hoffryn didn’t elevate me himself which means I won’t have to fill a vengeance quota or work to his rules.”

She nodded her head decisively and her face melted back into her human guise as she turned to address the ashen face of her anxious business partner, “Don’t worry, Rupert. I won’t be leaping straight into the full vengeance gig. I don’t think I want that any more and I certainly don’t want Buffy to decide she has to try to Slay me. I am however going to grant the odd wish here and there to keep in practice. I didn’t make the original decision to become human three years ago and I didn’t consciously make the decision to become a demon again just now, but now… now I get to make the choice myself.”

“But Ahn…”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do any more, Xander Harris. I’m going to think very hard about what I want to do with the rest of my life and if I end up deciding I want to go back to being human, I’ll say how this pendant will be destroyed, thank you very much.”

Xander looked around hoping for support. From his former fiancée his focus moved on to Tara who was sitting serenely by the railing, dividing her attention between the drama happening around her and the curvaceous little blonde smiling up at her from below. He skipped uneasily past Nathan who was standing back in the shadows avidly observing events unfold, took in Buffy who was happily ensconced on Spike’s lap and Dawn who was leaning contentedly against them then noted the disconsolate redhead sitting on the couch. Apparently dismissive of Anya’s bombshell, Willow’s mournful attention was totally focussed on her former girlfriend as it became apparent she really was trying to move on. Finally his gaze settled on Giles and Althanea, who after their initial concern looked in his opinion altogether too unconcerned with this development. He heaved a resigned sigh, “It’s never gonna go back to the way it was, is it?”

Althanea gently said, “It never does, Xander. We can never go back, only forwards. It is in the nature of all living beings to change constantly. We have to or we’d all stop learning and growing.”

While Xander returned to his seat and slouched clutching his bottle of beer to his chest, there was an uneasy silence for a few moments until Dawn eagerly asked, “So… what’s going to happen to that wanker Fletcher, then?”

“Well, Dawn…”

“Watch your mouth, Bit!”

Spike’s reproof came at the same moment that Buffy cried, “Dawn! Language!”

Dawn pouted, “What? Spike says it all the time.”

Giles cleared his throat. “While I don’t in any way condone Spike’s use of ahem… colourful language, I feel that to avoid being inappropriately insulting you should perhaps learn what the terms he uses actually mean before venturing to apply them yourself, Dawn.” As he gestured for Anya to answer Dawn’s question he muttered under his breath, “Although in this instance I feel you were entirely accurate.”

After checking slightly irritably that she wasn’t going to be interrupted again, a sly smile spread across Anya’s face as she explained, “Oh, I think that when he gets up tomorrow morning that young man is going to find that every single girl he likes is going to completely ignore him. They won’t even notice he’s there. The only females who will acknowledge his existence are those who he has toyed with, rejected and upset in the past.”

While all the other females in the group smiled and nodded at the apt punishment, Dawn bounced excitedly in her chair and giggled. “How long is it going to last?”

“Until he has learned he has to respect the feelings of others and can make a sincere apology to the one girl who he has hurt the most.”

“Perfect justice.” Declared the offended teenager smugly.


******


Warm arms slid around him from behind and Buffy’s hands linked over his stomach, her thumbs tucked down behind his belt buckle. She pressed herself full length against him, reaching up on tiptoe to nibble at his earlobe. Batting absently at her, Spike kept his eye on Xander as the young man took and missed his shot. He asked, “All danced out, sweetheart?”

“Yeah. Clem’s here at last. You gonna come do the present thing?”

He gestured at the few balls left on the pool table. “We’ll be finished in just a sec.”

“Okay. Bring some more drinks up with you, will you?”

“Right, love.” Spike leaned over the table and lined up his next shot then gave a startled yelp as a sharp pinch on his left buttock caused him to miss his aim and send the balls crashing wildly around the table. He glared at the rapidly retreating form of his giggling Mate. “Oy! Summers! I’m gonna get you for that!” As he turned back to the game rubbing his abused posterior, he muttered affectionately, “Brat.”

Xander laughed and prepared for his next, suddenly much easier shot. As he drew back his cue arm Spike asked, “You gonna insist Buffy Slays Anyanka now then, Harris?”

Once more the balls went careering around the table. “What? Why? No! Of course not!”

Spike shrugged as he ambled around the table, trying to decide whether to make the effort to win. “Just thought… Now she’s a demon again I thought you’d insist on it, like you did before.”

“Before? I insisted on the slayage of Anya before? When did I…? I never did…”

“Heard you when I came to the Slayer for help, that day the Indian spirits were about. I was lurking outside trying to decide whether to knock or whether to go find some minions to hunt for me after all. If I remember correctly your exact words were, ‘He's a vengeance demon. You don't talk to vengeance demons. You kill them’.”

“But not Anya!”

“Why not? Gets a special dispensation does she? How does that work then?”

“I love her!”

There was a pause while Spike sank two balls then missed a third, leaving one of his balls and two of Xander’s still on the table with the eight ball. “So what you’re saying is that Buffy’s supposed to Slay all demons except the ones you and Willow are in love with? Her first honey was a werewolf wasn’t he? I seem to remember the Slayer even getting up a rescue party to get him outta the Initiative instead of Slaying him.” He cocked his head to one side and chewed his lip in consideration then pointed out, “’Course you still insisted she should Slay the bloke she was in love with.”

“That was different! Angel killed Ms Calendar!”

“So… nothing like the way Anyanka changed reality so that vampires were terrorising the whole bloody town and setting up a factory to drain everyone in sight, you and Willow were both killed and vamped and Buffy got killed by the Master, then?” He muttered sarcastically, “Yeah… right. Completely different thing.”

Abruptly losing his enthusiasm for the game he left the spluttering human to take his final shots, deliberately brushing past him on his way to the bar.

By the time the drinks were ready, Xander had joined him to help carry the trays up to the balcony. After the glasses and bottles had been handed out to the appropriate people and the empties left at the top of the stairs for collection, Spike sprawled bonelessly in his seat. After directing a vague wave in Clem’s direction to acknowledge his presence beside the snack table he dipped into his pocket and with a sly smirk on his face tossed Xander’s wallet back to him. “’Ere y’are, mate. Thanks for the round.”

“Hey!”

Seeing disapproving faces all around he shrugged, “Lad can afford it. Up for a big promotion isn’t he?” He wiggled his fingers and mimed picking a pocket. “‘Sides, I gotta keep in practice haven’t I? With the chip I couldn’t kill folk for their dosh so I had to develop this handy new skill. ‘D be shame to let it go to waste now I don’t need to…” Seeing expressions change from disapproving to disbelieving he rolled his eyes. “I’m eeevil, remember?”

Dawn leant over and whispered to Tara, “Our vamp doth protest too much, methinks,” and received a smile and nod in response.

As Xander resignedly stowed his depleted wallet he thought for a second then with a shrug and a teasing smirk he demurred, “Nah, bleachboy. Not so much with the evil any more. Just kinda… mischievous.”

Feigning a disgruntled pout, Spike swigged at his beer then brightened up as his attention strayed to the second table where a variety of gaily wrapped packages were now stacked. “Prezzy time now then, is it?” He asked eagerly as he reached for the closest parcel.

Ten minutes later he was surrounded by shredded wrapping paper and on the table beside him was a small pile of gifts.

The hat was on his head.

However many times he protested, “I. Don’t. Do. Bloody. Hats!,” took the stupid thing off and tossed it away, someone would pick the ugly white cowboy hat up and ram it straight back on his head.

Making no effort to stifle his laughter, Xander insisted, “You’re playing on the Slayer’s team now, Spikey, and as you know; the good guys always wear white hats!”

Buffy clamped her lips between her teeth trying to suppress her giggles but eventually ventured apologetically, “Well… it suits you better than that tweedy hat you had on before, although I did think the ear-flaps were a particularly flattering look for you!”

He was also wearing a chunky silver chain bracelet with two dangling charms, a sunburst and a crescent moon, which his Mate informed him symbolised the pair of them together.

Around his neck hung a fine leather thong to which was attached a soft chamois leather pouch from which emanated the fragrant scent of mixed herbs. Tara insisted it was the closest thing she could fashion to a ‘protection from supernatural influences’ charm for a vampire. She assured him it would help him detect and partially ward off any magical attack he might encounter. Her fleeting glance at Willow as she explained her gift may have been coincidental, but Spike wasn’t a great believer in coincidences.

Dawn had presented him with a fat leather-bound lockable journal. He hadn’t kept a journal since a few weeks after his turning when Angelus had found the precious volume he’d retrieved before leaving his former home for the last time, and had taken malicious delight in reading passages aloud to Darla. The pair of elder vampires had cruelly mocked his commentaries upon the trivial minutiae of his mundane human life, his attempts at poetry, his earnest observations upon his new condition and fanciful speculations about his future. All the while Drusilla giggled and teased him unmercifully, persisting in calling him her ‘Little Willy’, a despised name he hadn’t managed to persuade her to let go completely until much later.

When his grandsire had got bored after a couple of hours of humiliating him, Darla had casually tossed the book into the open fire in the hotel suite the little vampire family was occupying at the time. Not wanting to risk a repeat performance, he hadn’t troubled to replace it. Perhaps now though he might think about beginning to record his thoughts once more…

With an embarrassed clearing of his throat, Giles had muttered something about ‘Needing to keep the British sense of humour alive amongst all these wretched colonials’ to justify his choice of a set of ‘Blackadder’ DVDs.

Althanea, it seemed had had a similar idea. The huge pot of Marmite had already been opened and a fingerful of the rich savoury spread had found its way into Spike’s mouth. Buffy and Dawn had both hazarded a taste and their matching ‘ick’ faces reassured the vampire that he would not have to share the delicacy that was a vivid reminder of home. It hadn’t been introduced until long after he’d been turned but over the years it had become one of the few strong flavours his muted vampiric taste buds had delighted in whenever he could get his hands on some.

Anya’s gift had been in the form of a voucher for a free appointment with her colourist, a demon-friendly hair stylist he had previously been unaware of. “I noticed the last time you bleached your hair it came out an unpleasant sickly shade of yellow instead of the pure white you were aiming for. It wasn’t very nice. I’m sure Guido will ensure it turns out exactly as you want it, but the punk bleached look is entirely outdated so I recommend you think about a new look. Guido will be able to advise you what shade would go best with your colouring.” She leaned over and whispered, “Confidentially, his name isn’t really Guido. He just uses that as a marketing ploy. Who would go to a half-demon named Rukanaamsnot for styling advice and be willing to pay what he charges?”

Nathan proudly presented him with a vellum scroll upon which he’d beautifully inscribed the full Aurelian family tree with the surviving vampires entered in vibrant blood red ink and those who had gone to dust memorialised in ornate black lettering. It had momentarily astonished him that apart from Angel, who didn’t effectively count in clan seniority because of the soul, he was the oldest surviving male Aurelian. He hadn’t known that Penn had been dusted until Nathan assured him Angel had despatched the Puritan vampire himself a couple of years before. He briefly considered styling himself ‘Master Aurelius’ as his rightful due, but dismissed the thought as too pretentious almost as soon as it occurred to him.

The last package Spike opened had revealed a battered old book. The faded burgundy leather binding of the slim volume was scuffed and stained and the thin brittle pages were yellowed with age. He raised a quizzical eyebrow at Willow who shrugged offhandedly and said, “I found it in the bottom of a box of bargain books I got this morning at the closing down sale at the bookstore. Victorian love poetry… so not my thing…”

Thinking that he’d now opened all his gifts, Spike sat idly flipping through the pages, smiling in recognition at some of the flowery sickly-sweet sentiments typical of the romantic poetry of his human days. He was familiar with most of the verses the book contained but several were new to him. He checked the flyleaf and discovered that the anthology had been published only a couple of years after he’d been turned and was in fact number three of a limited edition of only fifty copies of a private printing.

A few moments later his jaw dropped in shock when he turned a page and read:

“My soul is wrapped in harsh repose,
midnight descends in raven-coloured clothes,
but soft... behold!
A sunlight beam cutting a swath of glimmering gleam.
My heart expands,
'tis grown a bulge in it,
inspired by your beauty... effulgent.”

He breathed an incredulous, “Bloody Hell…” The poem was correctly attributed with his human name. A footnote made reference to the fact that the author hadn’t been seen since one day in May 1880 when the author’s household staff had been discovered, brutally murdered. Along with his ailing mother he had vanished without a trace. Consequently this was the only known surviving verse by this ‘unrecognised talent’.

It took Buffy several attempts to attract his attention. Finally she grasped his chin and forced him to face her. “Spike? What’s the matter? Look… Clem’s trying to give you something.”

Awkwardly clearing his throat in an attempt to disguise his emotional response to seeing his words in print, Spike nodded at Willow and gruffly muttered, “’hank you,” and slipped the book into an inner pocket of his duster to show Buffy later. Privately. He then turned to accept the old-fashioned lidded wicker shopping basket Clem had been trying to pass to him for several minutes.

The twin hinged lids of the basket were fastened with an incongruous length of bright pink ribbon which was drawn up into a big sloppy bow on the bowed handle. Intrigued, and not a little apprehensive about what the naïve demon might consider a suitable birthday present for him, Spike tugged at a trailing end of the ribbon which easily unravelled allowing the contents to peek out.

“Mew?”

Spike blinked.

“Mew?”

Spike blinked again. The tiny furry face with the big ears, pink nose and long white whiskers was still gazing expectantly up at him, its wide green eyes artfully pleading for acceptance.

“Mew!”

Becoming impatient for his attention, the kitten insistently nudged the lid further open and scrambled out onto his lap, padded up his thigh and began clambering eagerly up his t-shirted chest towards his face.

Spike yelped, “Ow!” and was galvanised into action. Needle sharp claws were hastily disentangled from black cotton and sensitive flesh and he cautiously held the mottled grey, white and ginger kitten away from him in one hand. Ignoring all the feminine exclamations of delight around him and the kitten that was nudging his hand hopefully with his nose and gracing him with the occasional raspy lick, he turned to glare at Clem and asked flatly, “A poker chip? You’ve given me a poker chip for my birthday?”

Clem cheerfully shook his head. “Look at his feet, Spike. He’s no good as a poker stake.” He grinned. “There was a slight… oversight at the breeders. The Bengal tom got in with the Burmese queen and see…” He reached out and his huge hand gently manipulated one of the kitten’s back feet. Shrugging sheepishly he explained, “I’ve had so much fun with the little Buffykit I thought you might like…” Noticing Spike’s incredulous expression he hastily added, “I’ve left a box of kitten food and other things you’ll need on your back porch for you…”

“Oh! He’s got six toes!” Willow cried excitedly, reaching out to take the bundle of fur. “He should only have four on his back feet.” She carefully examined all four feet. “He’s got extra on the front too, there should only be five.” She looked up with the first genuine smile Spike had seen on her face for weeks and declared, “That means he’s polydactyl.”

Buffy leant over to him and whispered in a puzzled tone, “I thought polydactyls were flying dinosaurs?”

Chuckling, Spike whispered back, “That’s pterodactyls, love.”

“Oh, isn’t he a little Angel!”

“No!” Spike turned on Dawn. “We are not naming this animal after the Grand Poohbah of Brood!”

Irritated by Willow’s handling, the kitten writhed in her grasp and scored six thin parallel red lines along her wrist. “Ouch! Ooooh! You little devil…” The redhead hastily handed the wriggling creature back to Spike who began absently stroking it as it circled his lap twice, curled up, tucked its tail over its nose and dozed off.

“Devil… oh yeah, that’s more like it.” He looked down at the little purring creature and began murmuring:

“The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn't just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I'm as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have three different names.
First of all, there's the name that the family use daily,
Such as…”

He looked up as he took a breath to continue, saw the amused expressions regarding him and trailed off in embarrassment. He cleared his throat and announced, “I’ve decided. The Mog here is going to be called ‘El Diablo’.”

To his surprise, Xander nodded enthusiastically, “Oh yeah, that’s perfect. El Diablo was host to a minor demon. He was the Spirit of Vengeance. Very appropriate for a feline member of the Scoobies!”

“Huh?”

Xander shook his head at Buffy’s ignorance. “He’s a character in one of DC’s comics? They’re not common but I’ve got a few copies… mint…” Seeing his enthusiasm wasn’t shared by the rest of the group he shrugged and repeated sullenly, “Well, I still think it’s a perfect name.” He gestured at the sleeping kitten, totally at home on the vampire’s lap. “The cat’s clearly got a thing for demons…”

Willow had evidently recognised Spike’s quotation as she teasingly asked, “So what’s his ‘Ineffable, Effable, Effanineffable, Deep and inscrutable singular Name’ then, Spike?”

Chuckling, he responded, “Dunno, Red. It’s ‘Deep and inscrutable’, innit?

---

Spike staggered to a halt beside the waiting Watcher who made a production of pressing the button of his stopwatch.

Panting unnecessarily, the vampire doubled over, rested his hands on his knees and gasped, “So… how did I do? Beat the Slayer, did I?”

Giles smirked and informed him. “I’ll tell you the distance you’ve just run and yours and Buffy’s times at the special meeting I’ve called for next Saturday evening after the second Portal trial run. By then we shall have quite a bit to discuss. Dawn is quite ready now and Anya and I have done extensive research and this time we’re a hundred percent certain we’ve selected an innocuous dimension for you to jump to. She was even kind enough to take the trouble to pop over there briefly to double check for you.” He held up the stopwatch. “When you compare your times with Buffy I think you’ll both be surprised at your performance.” He opened the driver’s door of his car and offered, “Can I give you a lift home?”

“Nah, mate.” Spike unlaced and slipped off his running shoes, tossed them into the rear seat of the SUV and reclaimed his boots and duster. “I’m gonna drop into the poker game tonight. Dave rang and tipped me there’s going to be a bloke there who’s been putting the word out he wants to see me about something.”

Leaning out of the open car door, Giles asked anxiously, “You’re not going to use that poor little kitten as collateral, are you?”

Spike snorted, “God, no! My life… er unlife wouldn’t be worth living. That little devil has got all my womenfolk under his paw even though he won’t let any of them pet him without leaving his mark on them.”

Giles smiled in male solidarity. “Playing hard to get with them, is he?”

“Bloody right.” He chuckled smugly. “It’s like he’s two different animals. With them he’s all spit and scratch even though they’re the ones feeding him and clearing up after him. With me he’s all purrs and pattypaws. Makes a change to have a bit of male companionship to deflect the attentions of the monstrous regiment of women.”

Giles shook his head and snorted, “Oh yes, you’ve got it so hard…”


TBC

A/N
I have taken the liberty of quoting a few words from BtVS Season 4 Episode 8: ‘Pangs’, written by Jane Espenson.

William’s ‘Effulgent’ poem is borrowed from:
BtVS Season 5 episode 7: ‘Fool for Love’.
Written by: Douglas Petrie
Where the poem was introduced and we heard an excerpt,
and:
Ats Season 5 episode 22: ‘Not Fade Away’
Written by Jeffrey Bell & Joss Whedon
Where we heard Spike recite it in its entirety.
Source: Buffyverse Dialogue DataBase. (What would we do without it?)

Spike and Willow’s ‘Cat’ poetry quotations have been borrowed from:
‘The Naming of Cats’
From: Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats

By Thomas Stearns Eliot (1886-1965)