9. Drain You
Warning: Bit o' naughtiness in this one.
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"Hey," Angel said quietly, his eyes on Buffy as she circled his bed.
"Hey yourself... how you feeling?"
"Like hell. I forgot how much being human hurt." He reached for her hand, and she sat on the side of his bed, interlacing her fingers with his.
"Well, yeah. Probably would have been a nicer experience if you hadn't, y'know, fought a demon horde first..."
"I really didn't think we were gonna come out of that," Angel whispered. "None of us did. We all really thought we were going out in a blaze of glory, y'know?"
"Disappointed?" Buffy grinned.
"I like being alive. And I haven't been this alive in a long time."
"So, can I get you anything? I'm sure your new meatsuit has needs..."
"Actually, yeah." Angel sat up, smiling crookedly. "I am kinda hungry."
"Name it. The best of our creepy cave rations are at your disposal. Whatever your gourmet heart desires, be it granola bars, granola bars, or even granola bars. Also, some trail mix, but I think Andrew picked all the M&M's out of it..."
"Actually..." Angel pulled her towards him, "I was kind of hungry for some nice, raw, cookie dough."
"We don't... oh! See, I, uh, I just got that..."
Angel raised an eyebrow. "Wanna crawl in? I feel like having a moment of perfect happiness."
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"Giles, are you okay? You look kind of... pale..."
Giles polished his glasses, a faraway look on his face. "I... it's... rather extraordinary. I should like to see a demonstration, if you two don't mind..."
Xander and Willow exchanged a nervous glance.
"The thing is... when we do this... it's kinda, um, very woo. I mean... sometimes... sometimes that's really good... we took out just crazy amounts of demons, didn't we, Xander? But sometimes, uh... like, I tried to do a locator spell on Spike and ended up kinda... sucking his memory out... so..."
"And we healed Buffy just 'cause I thought about her..."
"Oh, and we couldn't separate, remember that? Kennedy had to practically break your fingers..."
"Yeah, couldn't help but notice she went for my fingers, not yours..."
Willow grinned impishly. "Well, she has a vested interest in my fingers."
"And normally I would say 'eww', but I just realized I'd be turning my back on hot lesbian mental pictures, so..."
"You do know that when Kennedy and I aren't inside your head, we don't wear naughty schoolgirl outfits?"
"Hey, what you guys do when you're not inside my head is your own business," Xander leered. "What you do inside my head is mi-i-ine."
Giles cleared his throat. "Pardon me terribly for interrupting, but -- unexplained magical phenomenon? Possible significance for the war on evil? Unless you'd really rather bicker over the costuming in Xander's private mental copy of 'Luscious Lesbians III'..."
"That was a good one," Xander and Willow said simultaneously.
"And with a brief break for me to roll my eyes to heaven, I will once again struggle to get you two back on topic. The demonstration?"
"What spell do you want us to do?"
"Willow knows what spell I want us to do," Xander said darkly.
"And Willow said no," Willow replied firmly. "Maybe we should do some kind of simple glamour, something that won't be catastrophic if it goes all... woo."
"Wait-wait," Giles' eyebrow raised. "What spell do you want to do, Xander?"
"We had a little fight earlier," Willow said hurriedly.
"Because she put Buffy on this major, and may I say majorly undeserved, guilt-trip about Captain Peroxide..."
"Oh, please. You're even more white hat/black hat than Buffy is."
"All I'm saying is, if he really is a trap, a memory that you can't access..."
"What is this?" Giles interrupted.
"Will and I got into it," Xander explained. "And I said that things were over for Buffy and Spike way before the assault, back when Riley caught him with the Suvolte demon eggs... and Willow, for some weird reason, can't remember that..."
"It's like the memory is blocked," Willow finished.
"And I say, if it's blocked, it's probably important, and we should un-block it."
Giles frowned, thinking. "Well, if that is indeed when Buffy ended their relationship, perhaps he has repressed it? It would be a most painful memory..."
"He has other really painful memories, though, and I can access those..." Willow said. "It's weird, it's like... the door is there, but it's... nailed shut."
"All the more reason to crowbar it open, I say," Xander's jaw set. "Spike's an unknown, and he's out there with Dawn."
"Xander does have a point, Willow."
"Fine," Willow sighed. "Fine. Since it's Dawnie."
She flopped her hand, palm-up, on the flat stone, and Xander took it.
"You ready?" Willow whispered.
"Ready," Xander replied...
And they gasped in unison, their necks arching as trails of light swirled around them, Giles eyes' widening as their hair shades blended to reddish-brown, Willow's eyes darkening as Xander's lightened. Giles put a hand on each of their wrists and wrenched them apart; Xander and Willow stared at him, panting.
"How do you feel?" Giles said gently.
"I feel... well... weird," Xander said. "Good-weird..."
"Yeah, what he said..."
"Put aside your embarrassment for a moment. Be honest with me."
"Fine," Xander sighed, looking at his shoes. "Take every moment of horny in my life and roll 'em all together in a big, sticky hornball, okay? That's how I feel." He scuffed his toe against the stone. "Sorry, Will."
"Don't be sorry, I... I'm having a majorly non-gay moment right now..."
"Interesting," Giles said.
"Interesting?" Xander bleated. "Interesting? That's all we get? No knowing nod and an 'Ah, you're obviously possessed by a floobertywooberty demon from the glorkzak dimension?'"
"I think it might be a bit more complicated than that. Willow, did the spell work?"
"Hang on, lemme see if I can remember now..."
"C'mon, Will. Suvolte demon eggs, Riley coming in, blowing up Spike's crypt with a grenade... any of this ringing a bell? Unnailing a door?"
Willow's eyes flew wide, horror flooding her face.
"I knew it!" Xander crowed. "What did he do?"
"Willow," Giles said gently, "Tell us what you saw..."
"Spike wasn't the doctor," Willow sighed. "Although he did buy eggs from him."
"What the hell did Spike want with flesh-eating demon babies?"
"Suvolte demons... their blood is a kind of poison. A sort of unique one. If someone drinks it, it... makes them vulnerable. You can take things from them. Strength. Love. Faith. Innocence. Whatever you want. Whatever you need. Whatever you're missing."
Xander's hands balled into fists. "He gave that to Buffy? He was... taking herself from her? God, no wonder she was so..."
Willow touched his hand. "Xander. Spike was drinking it."
"What?"
"He was hatching the eggs on purpose. He was feeding on them."
"I... I don't understand."
"She wouldn't ask for anyone's help, so... he made it so she didn't have to. He opened himself up so she could just take what she needed."
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Angel touched Buffy's shoulder. "Hey-hey... sleepy girl..."
"Muhnumuhnuhmunf."
"Hey, I'm the mere mortal here. You're the one with the Slayerness... shouldn't I be the one falling asleep before... y'know... the dough gets unwrapped?"
Angel paused. "Can we get a new metaphor? I really hate that metaphor."
Buffy groaned. "You're a mere mortal... who's still in his own time zone. I started this day on Italy time..."
"Oh. Yeah." Angel kissed her shoulder. "Kinda forgot. Been a big day."
"Uh-huh..." Buffy mumbled, her eyes closing...
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"Do you even like me?"
"Sometimes."
"But you like what I do to you."
Spike turns to her, an eyebrow raised, a pair of handcuffs dangling from his fingers. "Do you trust me?"
"Never."
The flash of pain in his eyes sends a shock through her heart; it's so hard to remember sometimes that he doesn't have feelings... not real ones, anyway...
Still, she tries to soften the blow. "Be kind of embarrassing for me, huh? I mean, when you're all 'Oh, let me tell you about the three Slayers I killed, the last one was the best, I had her handcuffed to a bed...'"
"You think... you still think I'd kill you?" he whispers, his face an open wound.
"I'm kidding! Ha-ha-ha! Funny!" Her voice trails off. "Or not..."
He merely stares, and if his eyes are shinier than usual, she's sure it's the candlelight.
"Hey," she teases. "How come you want to cuff me up, anyway? I thought you liked that I could kick your ass."
He smiles a little, back on familiar ground; he reaches out to slide a lock of her hair through his fingertips. "I assure you, pet, it's only for the safety of my remaining furniture."
"What remaining furniture?"
"Point." He tilts his head, raises an eyebrow, and something shoots through her; she reaches to him, puts both of her hands on his wrist.
"All right, Big Bad," she smiles. "Cuff me up."
The delight on his face ought to scare her; she can tell it's the trust, not the thought of her helpless, that has him grinning, and she can't decide which is more terrifying.
He lays her down across the bed, running his hands up her forearms, locking her wrists into place... and sits back, watching her, drinking her in.
"All right," she says, trying to keep her voice steady, her tone a challenge instead of a plea. "I'm at your mercy, ooo-ooo. Whatcha gonna do to me?"
"This," he whispers... and places a tender kiss on her eyelid.
Buffy stiffens from shock; this isn't them, isn't what they do... at least, isn't what they do when she has any say in it. Spike presses his lips to her other eyelid, her temple, the tip of her nose; his fingertips trace her cheekbone, lovingly, with aching slowness.
His fingers slide through her hair, brushing it back from her face. "So beautiful. You're so beautiful..."
And hours pass, melting into molasses, as Spike learns her, inch by inch... fingertips and lips and sheathed teeth, committing her to memory. He watches her, notes every tiny gasp and sigh as he surveys her skin, returning to tease in the interesting spots he's found, then just caressing, his cool palm gliding, his face full of wonder. He finds sore muscles and works on them, his hands kneading away the knots, his eyes deep and full, happy to take away the pain, happy to be making her happy.
She relaxes, boneless, nearly asleep, only to gasp back to reality when his grin turns wicked, seeking the places that make her arch beneath him, stopping with a naughtily arched eyebrow when she gets too hot, turning achingly tender again.
"You're a tease," she gasps.
"Learned from the best, pet," he growls against her stomach... and then moves lower.
He does not need to breathe. The hours pass; she loses the ability to move, to think, to do anything but sob his name, to shake uncontrollably in his arms.
She can see light in the windows when he finally takes her, claiming her mouth with his, whispering against her lips that he loves her, that she makes him feel alive. And she feels it inside her... his love for her, his faith in her, his respect for her, his desire for her, surging through her veins, lighting her from the inside, pooling in her mind, blowing away the gray fog in which she lives.
She can feel, she can feel him, she can feel herself, feel herself come to life, feel herself the way he sees her, see the beauty and strength he sees, see the light within her that draws him. It's like she's taking his love from him, taking his passion, drawing it deep within herself, filling the holes with it...
He stiffens and shudders, whispering her name, again and again, like a prayer to the light... and raises himself, kissing her forehead tenderly, her left eyelid, her right.
"I love you so much," he whispers, his voice low, rough.
He reaches above her head. She hears the metal rattling of the handcuffs; she is free.
He catches her eyes, stares into them. "Do you love me?"
Time stops; she's frozen, pinned beneath the weight of his expression, and part of her wants to give this to him, give something back...
Her silence makes him shiver; he drops his eyes, drops his voice. "Could you ever love me?"
"Spike," she whispers. "I'll never love you. I can't. You... you know that."
"Right." She watches as the walls slam down. "Of course. Forgot. Soulless evil thing. Slipped my mind there for a second."
"Spike... I need to go."
"Of course you do." He rolls away from her, presenting the smooth planes of his back. Her freed hands itch to touch them; she doesn't.
"I guess I'll see you later."
"Right," he replies flatly.
"Um... thanks. It was... fun."
"Just bloody go," he commands, and his voice is thick, choked.
She goes.