"What're you DOING? Get UP, get DRESSED, they're COMING!"
"Aww, let 'em come--why should you an' I have all the fun?" He smiled at her, curling his tongue under his teeth and cocking one eyebrow. She was amazed to see that he was hard again.
"I AM up!"
"AAARRRGHHH!" She very unceremoniously grabbed him by the most convenient handle available and yanked him to his feet.
"HEY! Easy with the delicates!" Their voices were little above stage whispers, but they sounded loud to her ears.
"Shut up and go home. Just stay there until I come for you...I mean, until I get you."
"Right, pet." Still grinning like a moron, he gathered up his coat and cigarettes and made a none-too-hasty retreat in the direction of his crypt.
Buffy slipped behind the nearest large tree just as Xander, Anya, Willow and Tara came upon the grave that she and Spike had so recently defiled.
"Oh, now that's just...can everyone just say it with me? EWWWW!" Xander stared down at the expanse of grass that spread away from the tombstone. Two large clumps of sod had been torn from the ground. There was a deck of cards--several of which were sticky and slippery with blood and some other whitish, fast drying substance--splayed out across the grave, and a pair of red silk panties hung from one arm of the cross at the top of the stone.
"Oh, that's so disrespectful." Willow's face was a study in disapproval.
"Oh, I don't know...wouldn't bother me if people got busy on MY grave...I mean, just because I was a decayed corpse with no orgasms in my future, doesn't mean I would begrudge them to anyone else." Anya shrugged and slid an arm around Xander's waist, making a mental note to get in as many orgasms as possible before death came for her.
Tara giggled. It was such an unexpected reaction from her to the scene before them that they all turned to stare at her, which caused her to immediately bite her lip and look remorseful. "Sorry. I w-was just thinking that it looks like s-somebody lost a game of s-strip p-poker."
"Yeah, well, whatever--let's just find Buffy and get out of here before"
Buffy took a deep breath and stepped out from behind the tree. "Here I am, Xander."
"Whoa. Speak of the Slayer." Xander looked at Buffy and noticed that she seemed a bit...disheveled. Not that his brain actually came up with that word. "Where've you been?"
"Oh, you know, the usual. Big slayage all around." Her voice was unnaturally bright.
Willow also noticed Buffy's general state of disarray. "Are you OK? I mean, when you disappeared from the Bronze, we were worried--not that we think you can't take care of yourself, or anything."
"Nope, I'm fine. Just hanging out, waiting for some vamps to show so I can get with the whole sacred duty thing..." Great, Buff, babble much?
"Ooooookay...well, if you're sure--"
"Yup, I'm sure. So if you guys want to head home..."
The three vamps in question chose that moment to burst from the bushes about ten yards from the group. They barreled towards the Slayer and Scoobies, looking hungry.
Tara, Anya and Willow fell back a few feet, fumbling for the stakes they had tucked into various parts of their attire. Buffy and Xander stepped up, taking the brunt of the assault.
Buffy took the smaller one first, landing several good punches and a kick to the balls before dusting him with a particularly graceful arc of her arm. It was then that she realized that her stockings were still rolled down around her ankles, and she was wearing no underwear. She looked around in a panic, hoping she hadn't flashed her friends.
Xander was having more of a struggle with the largest vamp, and the middle-sized guy was busy trying to decide which of the three female Scoobies would make the best appetizer.
Tara chose that moment to be heroic and went for the vamp, stake drawn. He clobbered her easily, and went in for the kill before Willow could scream for Buffy's help. That's when Spike, still wearing his tattered tee-shirt, lunged onto the scene out of nowhere and took out the demon with round-house high-kick to the head. Wrenching the stake from Tara's terrified grip, he dusted the creature.
Between them, Buffy and Xander had made short work of the largest vampire and were in time to see Spike finish the third. Then they stood about for a moment and looked at one-another.
"Um--thanks, Spike." Willow was genuinely grateful. That was the second time he'd come to the rescue in one night.
"Don't mention it, Red." He offered his hand to Tara and pulled her to her feet.
"Wh-what h-happened to your sh-shirt, Spike?" Tara stared at the vampire's chest. It glowed like white-gold in the dim light, and the healing wound just below his collarbone stood out like neon.
"Oh...er...nothin' pet. Just a bit of a tussle with--"
"A demon! He had a fight with a demon, right, Spike?" Buffy looked at him pleadingly.
"Er--right. A demon. Big, nasty bloke. Took a piece right out of me...would have made me his supper if it hadn't been for the Slayer here. Right, Slayer?" His face was serious, but his eyes twinkled at her. She turned away from him pointedly.
"OK, well, I'm beat. What d'you say we all head home?" She tucked her stake back into the waistband of her skirt and started walking toward the gates, hoping that the others would follow. They didn't. They were too busy watching Spike gather up the playing cards from the nearby grave. Not realizing he had an interested audience, he paused to scrape off the now-hardened ejaculate from the surface of several cards, and to lick the blood from one or two others. The sound of Xander's gagging stopped him.
"Spike, you are SO beyond disgusting."
"What? It's my own blood, inn'it?"
Willow looked horrified. "Spike, were you playing cards...and...and other stuff on some poor dead person's final resting place?"
"Wasn't MY idea to do it here, Red, it was--"
"Despicable! Gross and...and despicable and you should be ashamed of yourself, you disgusting, filthy demon." Buffy took a deep breath and looked everywhere but at Spike. "Let's go, guys." She took Xander and Willow by the arms and began dragging them along with her. Anya and Tara followed obediently behind.
"But who was he playing with?" Anya stopped and looked back over her shoulder to watch Spike disengage the panties from the tombstone and stuff them into the pocket of his duster.
"He was probably playing solitaire, if you know what I mean." Xander was highly amused by his own joke.
"But the panties--"
"NeverMIND! Let's just GO!" Buffy's tone brooked no argument.
At the gates, Buffy let go of Willow and Xander. "I...uh...I should probably do a final patrol just to be safe. I'll see you guys tomorrow, OK?" She couldn't quite meet anyone's eyes.
"Uh, yeah, OK. Are you planning on going back to the Bronze tomorrow night? You know, for the rest of Western Weekend?" Willow looked hopeful. She had found that she rather enjoyed the countryfied atmosphere, once she had gotten used to it.
"Um..maybe. I'll see. I'll let you know tomorrow, OK?"
Buffy watched as the Scoobies moved down the street and around the corner. Then she took off, back into the depths of the cemetery, absolute fury firing her feet.
She slammed into his crypt to find him seated on the tomb that served as his bed, dabbing at the last of the bloodstains on his chest with the wadded up remains of his shirt. He glanced up at her casually and cast the rag aside, reaching for his cigarettes.
"Thought you were headed home, pet. Come to hear the rest of the story?" He leered at her and lit the cigarette, taking a deep drag and exhaling through his nostrils. It always got to her, somehow, when he did that.
She shook off the little electric spark of attraction and glared at him. "No, I did NOT come to hear the rest of your LAME story--"
"It was your story, too, luv, or have you conveniently forgotten that bit?"
She took a breath to steady herself. "I came to tell you that you'd better keep your mouth shut about...about what happened tonight if you know what's good for you. And you can forget about it ever happening again, too." She took a step toward him in what she hoped was a menacing fashion. "Got that?"
"Oh, I see how it is. Feelin' a bit ashamed, are we? A trifle dirty? No need, Slayer. What happened tonight was perfectly natural--"
"Natural? There's nothing natural about you and me...doing what we did. It was awful and disgusting and I can't believe I let you--"
"You LET me? Hate to contradict an' all, pet, but you were right there with me, just as aggressive...just as passionate..." He'd slid off the tomb and was approaching her, his voice dipping into a seductive growl. "I quite fancied that little noise you made just before you came. Like to see if I could hear it again..."
She felt her face flush and told herself it was shame and revulsion and anything but arousal. She had no explanation for the sudden dampness she felt between her thighs; shame and revulsion so rarely made her wet herself. She was deeply, monumentally confused, and the voices that had been bickering in her head all night had chosen this time to shut up completely, leaving her with no internal guidance whatsoever.
He was inches away and closing. She chose to go with the simplest response and punched him soundly in the jaw. He fell back and snarled.
"Not fair, Slayer, you can play rough an' I can't--or maybe I can, if you like it well enough..." He made a move toward her and she countered with a kick to his gut. When he straightened, she held her stake in her hand.
"Back off, Spike. I almost dusted you once tonight. I won't miss twice."
His eyes widened in surprise. She meant it. He automatically covered his hurt with bravado.
"You're a moody bitch tonight, Slayer. One moment you're crawlin' around in my trousers, the next you're threatenin' to stake me. What's a poor vampire to think?"
"I don't care what you think, except for this: it ends here. Don't come near me again." She felt something in her chest contract painfully when she said those words, and ignored it. "Are we good? Do you get it now?"
She watched as the playful smile on his face turned to stone. "I get it, Slayer." He turned his back on her and clenched his fists. She weakened for a moment.
He didn't turn. "Get out. Don't come back." His voice was gravelly, barely within his control.
She turned and stalked out of the crypt. Only when he was sure she was gone did he allow his shoulders to slump. Mindlessly, he reached for the bottle of bourbon he kept behind the tomb. He stood in the open doorway and stared out at the sky, chugging the brown liquid in large, coma-inducing gulps.
"Have you ever heard a robin weep
As leaves begin to die
That means he's lost his will to live
I'm so lonesome I could cry."
Continued in Chapter Six