Older and Wiser
She collapsed on the stairs beside him, her face a
study of irritation and pain. They exchanged brief glares.
“You want a drink?” he offered gruffly, finally
breaking the tense silence.
She looked at him cynically.
“Oh yeah, let’s get Buffy drunk. And besides - this is
the sort of party that has my little sister at it. There should be no
He gave her an appraising look.
“That must be why you look like you’re having such a
good time, pet.”
She leaned back a little, releasing a sigh.
“They’re all – at me,” she said in a small voice. Not
looking at him. Oh no. Because that would be bad.
“Big bad monsters,” he agreed. “Um, who exactly are we
“Everyone. The whole ‘happy-birthday-smile-for-the-camera’
brigade. Why do I have to feel
“And again, I’d have to suggest alcohol might help,
but then who am I to corrupt the slayer?” He paused upon seeing the look she
gave him. “Any more than I might have already done,” he added with a slight
“Buffy! Are you up there? Birthday cake!” came Willow’s
voice from the bottom of the house.
“Better go smile for the camera,” she sighed, getting
up slowly and tiredly.
“Yeah. I reckon I’m gonna go soon.”
Spike made a show of yawning and stretching. “Finished up the beer and if I
have to listen to that – music - any
longer I’m going to have to stake myself.”
“Wow. You think that’d work with all the vamps?” she
asked, with a hint of a smile on her lips.
“Don’t you have cake to cut?” He watched her make her
way down the steps, ass swaying slightly, and he realised. He couldn’t stay
around here. Not any more.
She returned to the same place on the stairs some time
later with cake and a bottle of…something.
“You still here?” she asked without great enthusiasm.
“Seem to be,” he replied, puzzled. “Not
entirely sure why.”
“I remembered this – revolting stuff,” she said,
wrinkling her nose at the bottle as she handed it to him reluctantly. “No one
else around here is ever going to drink it.”
“That’s a thirty year old malt whiskey!” He touched
the label appreciatively. “You know, you really do have the worst taste, woman.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” she replied, eyeing him
ruefully. She took her place beside him once more, feeling herself relax now
she was away from her friends and sitting next to a vampire. Stupid irony, she thought idly.
He seemed to concentrate on pouring the whiskey and
avoiding her eye.
“Sure you don’t want some?” he offered, waving the
bottle in front of her.
She pulled a face of utter disgust. “Think I’ll stick
to the nice, safe, non-toxic cake, thanks all the same.”
She ate her birthday cake alongside the
“No chance the music is going to improve?” he asked
Conversationally? It had to be a plot, decided Buffy. But if he could
do polite then so could she. Or if not polite, then at least
an exchange that didn’t involve heavy weaponry.
“Yeah, when I want to empty the house, then we’ll put
on your music,” she answered, as condescendingly as she could manage through a
mouthful of cake.
They sat side by side in relatively comfortable
“So. What’s with the cute little boy-toy?” he asked
casually after a while.
“Cute indeed,” Buffy nodded,
a glint in her eye.
He rolled his eyes and knocked back a shot of whiskey.
“And…..he’s a boy,” she finally added quietly.
“And that’s what you want,” Spike sighed and refilled
the glass. Buffy absent-mindedly picked it up and took a sip.
“No – yeah – no! It’s what really doesn’t work with my strange little
life.” She stared into space.
“So…” he prompted.
“So - nothing. I’m the Slayer. I don’t get a normal life. I don’t
get a life. God, I don’t even get a death. And I don’t get to go out with nice,
He looked at her with a gleam of hope, trying to
control the urge to talk, to babble, to persuade and
to probably bollocks it up all over again.
“You starting to see things straight, love?” he finally
asked. She jumped to her feet.
“Why do you always have to do that? Why do you want me
to say that I’m on the dark side? It’s not
where I belong,” she ranted. “And when was the last time you were on the dark
side anyway? And you know what? You sound like something out of Star Wars!”
His face held only amazement. She sat down again, feeling
slightly sheepish. Tantrum over. She picked up his
glass once more and finished the drink, grimacing.
“Well, you do,” she said with a pout. Somewhere along
the line something had gone askew. Or maybe this was what she should have been
saying last week. “And I hate it when
you say stuff like that. I’m not a demon and I’m not evil and just for the record, Oh Big Bad, neither are you lately.”
“Am bloody too,” he said, but without conviction. He
pushed his hair back, searching for words that wouldn’t send her jumping over
the banisters. “Buffy - I’m sorry. I don’t mean to upset you. I really didn’t. It’s
just….we are the same, and you don’t see it. We don’t
belong here.” He indicated the party below.
“If we are the anything like the same,” she said
carefully, “That might be because you are out patrolling, killing the bad guys
and saving the world. Which would make you a super hero.”
He gaped at her in horror. She tried to smother a
“You take that back!” he said, offended. “Make me
sound like the bloody Ponce.”
“But you can say that I’m all – wrong. And that I
don’t belong with my friends and that….” She trailed off.
“Yes, pet. Have a look at you, life and soul of the
party, off with your friends havin’ fun. Not sitting
on a half-lit staircase with a…..neutered vampire!” He gave her a quirky look.
“I still love them!” she said defiantly. Neutered
vampire be damned, she thought defiantly.
“Course you do, pet. But we do have stuff in common, Buffy. We’re both freaks for a start – and
that’s even by Hellmouth standards. No one gets your slayer
stuff. Not really. And no one’s even heard of a vampire that can’t bloody bite
“You can bite me,” Buffy pointed out. She felt rather
than heard his sharp intake of breath. “That wasn’t an invitation!” she said
warningly. Then began to laugh. “Oh god, my life is a
bad, bad joke!”
He looked at her, confused now, as she buried her head
in her hands and giggled. Oh well, laughing was probably better than crying. He
noted the empty glass beside her and helped himself to a swig from the bottle.
“So, we’re okay then,” he said warily, watching her,
waiting for another mood-swing.
“I’m sorry,” she said impulsively, “About the beating
you to a bloody pulp. I’m just…”
“…a cranky bitch sometimes,” he supplied, ducking the
light punch she aimed at him and smirking. “And I’m a semi-evil vampire.”
“And I still remember where your unbeating
heart is!” she told him in mock-warning, patting his chest.
“Trampled under your feet when last I checked,” he
said, cocking his head to one side and trying to meet her eyes. Her hand still
hovered over his heart.
Something changed in the air, the electrical charge
hitting them both.
Slowly, she leaned forward and kissed him gently. He
pulled her closer with a muffled cry of, “God, Buffy!”
Their mouths met and sanity faded fast. They kissed
long and hard, oblivious to the people and party beneath them. Too many days. They clung to each other desperately,
bodies colliding and limbs entwining.
He was the first to draw back. She looked at him
questioningly. He sat back and groped for his drink, laughing at her
“Oh, get your priorities right?” she huffed.
“I have,” he said, still smiling as he took a sip. He
drew her back into a alcohol-laden kiss.
not so bad, she thought, tasting him,
exploring the recesses of his mouth.
She could feel his smile as she sought out his tongue
with hers and she licked his lips.
“More?” he offered and she nodded hungrily.
He held the bottle out of her reach,
took a gulp from the bottle and leaned forward to meet her mouth. She giggled back
into him, resulting in spillage.
She pushed him onto his back against the steps and
licked his mouth clean, moving slowly towards his throat, enjoying his groans
as she lightly sucked on his skin, following each rivulet of liquid.
She gasped in shock as she registered something cold
touching her back. Something icy. Something…like
ice. Her eyes shot open to meet his twinkling blue eyes. That look on
his face, the one of mischievous triumph, the one that meant she absolutely
*had* to twist and turn in a futile attempt to evade his grip.
Even when she wanted him to win.
His strong hands held her steady, his eyes mocking her
as she squirmed against cold, wet hands doing all sorts of delicious things,
exploring and testing territory.
“Where’d you get that?” she tried to complain as his
hands moved around onto her stomach, tracing cold, wet patterns, moving up, up
further. Her voice was barely a whimper. She bit back a moan.
“You have to have ice with whiskey, pet,” he explained,
his own voice catching as she saw the heavy lidded look of lust and surrender cross
her face.. He fended off her half-hearted attack with one hand while the other,
with the fast melting ice cube, trailed down her throat and over her neckline.
He finally let the cold, watery remains fall down her
top and she gasped.
“Need to get you out of those wet clothes, love,” he
whispered huskily into her ear, a hand travelling over her wet, cloth-covered
“So do you!” she retorted, pouring half the whiskey
bottle over his chest.
He chuckled as he rescued the remainder from her hand.
That was his slayer. “Now that’s just a waste,” he chided, “We could find much
better uses for that, I promise you.”
He worked his hands under her now damp and clammy top.
She moaned softly and moved closer, almost sitting astride him and manoeuvring
to allow him easier access. They kissed again, more urgent now. He pushed her onto
her back and straddled her. Both winced at the noise as she hit the banister
and he dropped the whiskey bottle in shock.
“We are not allowed knock this house down!” she
gasped, harsh reality intruding on her world.
“Somebody might notice,” he agreed, trying to pull her
back into a kiss.
They stumbled up the remaining steps and fell behind
the first door they found, slamming it shut and falling on the bed.
“Missed you,” she admitted. He groaned at the words.
“You could have told me that yesterday,” he scolded,
pulling her shirt apart and burying his head in her breasts. They tore each
other’s clothes off.
“How’s that cramp?” she asked with a naughty smile. “Still in need of ice?”
“None left,” he admitted. “Call around tomorrow…in the
meantime, maybe there’s something else you could do….” He trailed off into a
groan as her head disappeared from view. One flick of her tongue and he was
“You bring that whiskey?” Her head bobbed up.
“Um, do I get in trouble if I say yes?”
Tutting, she grabbed the bottle from his flailing hand and
vanished from sight once more.
He yelped as the sting of alcohol hit sensitive areas.
And hissed in relief as her mouth relived the tension.
“No,” he said, clearing his mind.
Struggling up, he found her giving him a quizzical
look. “No?” she questioned.
“I want you,” he insisted, pulling her up towards him.
“Some particular part of me?” she asked in
“You could say that,” he said with a grin, throwing
her on her back. “Us super heroes are hard on clothes aren’t we?” he laughed as
he heard the satisfying rip of Buffy’s panties.
“Now are you sure about this?” he teased. “Because I
don’t want you turnin’ up tomorrow saying I took
advantage of your temporary insanity.”
“It’s semi-permanent insanity!” she grumbled, pulling
his body closer.
He was momentarily stilled by her words. Semi-permanent.
Coming from Buffy, that sounded like a life
She gazed at him; hovering above her, looking stunned.
And grabbed his ass, pulling him into her. He laughed
at her impatient urgency, but his smile faded as he felt himself enveloped by
her hot depths.
Her moans grew louder. He shushed her to no avail.
“What happened to being quiet?” He was answered by an
As he began to thrust faster and deeper, he covered
her mouth firmly with his hand, suddenly imagining a screaming Buffy and a room
full of concerned Scoobies. She bucked beneath him,
head thrown back…then bit into him viciously as she came.
In the same instant he felt the pain, he howled
loudly, came violently and was thrown off the bed by a slayer who was not
pleased with his sound effects.
“You idiot!” she hissed, still trembling slightly.
“You want an audience?”
“And throwin’ me around the
room should solve that problem!” he retorted, as quietly as he could.
He lay on the floor, watching her as she succumbed to
her second fit of giggles that evening.
“Someone on the stairs!” he whispered suddenly,
tossing clothes at her and scrambling to his feet.
Super speed saw them barely clad by the time the door creaked
Buffy held her shirt closed over her chest while a
topless Spike fastened his belt....
“Eewww!!” wailed Dawn at
last. “That’s my bed!”
“Anyone else coming up?” asked Spike with urgency.
Dawn huffed and puffed and left the room, throwing her
arms in the air. They heard her talk to Xander and Anya outside the door.
“No, nothing there. I think we have like, mice…or something.”
“Mice,” Buffy shook her head in disbelief. “We’re
“Quiet as mice,” agreed Spike and they both cracked
up, desperately trying to laugh quietly.
They had finished dressing by the time Dawn
reappeared. She looked at them sternly.
“I want to see you both downstairs in ten minutes. And
you’ll change the sheets on my bed!”
“I’m in such trouble,” groaned Buffy for the fourth
time, laying her head on the table in quiet despair, as she and Spike awaited
the wrath of Dawn.
“This is worse than when mom found out about me and
“Why? D’you shag the poofter
in Dawn’s bed too?” asked Spike sourly, continuing to pace the kitchen floor.
Buffy threw a punch in his direction which he avoided
“You know, it might have been better if we’d hit your
room instead,” he suggested, helpfully. She glared at him.
“I didn’t even *notice*!” she wailed. “And you *know*
this is all your fault!”
“That’s my middle name, int
it?” he grumbled. “We’ll just have to deal with it, love. Looks as though the cat’s
out of the bag.”
“Is that like ‘The naked vampire’s out of my bed’?”
asked Dawn’s voice. The younger girl stood at the door, glaring at them both.
“Dawn! I’m so sorry!” Buffy looked at her pleadingly.
“I would never….”
“Have sex in my bed?” Dawn interrupted sarcastically.
“It was that or the stairs, Bit,” put in Spike. Buffy
thumped him in the ribs while Dawn rolled her eyes in disgust.
“I would have said ‘Get a room.’ I wouldn’t have meant
Buffy hid her face in her hands. This was not how
authority figures behaved. This was no way to instil discipline in her sister,
or….ever be able to look her in the face again. This
was not the sort of thing her mother would have done. Or Giles.
She was startled from her brooding by a sudden mental image of Giles….and her
“Where’s everyone else?” she asked at last, managing
to meet her sister’s eye.
“Gone. At last. We had a tiny little
bit of a problem with a spell and no one could leave, but it’s
okay now, all sorted.” Dawn looked innocently at the ceiling.
“Yeah. I don’t know how you didn’t notice all that. Could it
have been the hours of sex you were having in my bed?”
“But how? Was it Willow?”
“No, it was nothing. All fixed. And stop trying to
change the subject!”
Buffy looked at her with suspicion, but dropped the
“And wow!” continued Dawn crossly. “Did you have to be
so loud? I mean, I think the whole street heard you! Possibly
“His fault!” Buffy indicated Spike, a poor attempt to
deflect the blame. He spluttered in righteous indignation and held up his bite-marked
hand. Dawn squealed and covered her eyes.
“I should not
be seeing this!” she yelped. “I can’t believe you people!”
The guilty pair looked suitably abashed.
“And can I just point out that Buffy’s room is about
thirty seconds further away than mine. You guys couldn’t make it that far?”
Spike and Buffy caught each other’s eyes, almost
smiled…and quickly looked away.
“Can I say once more – eeww!”
“Sorry,” said Spike, apologetically. “We’ll stick to
Buffy’s room in future.”
“Spike,” said Buffy calmly, “Stop helping.”
“Fine!” he groused. “I’m going to watch telly. Unless
you ladies would prefer I take a walk in the bright morning sunshine?” He
Dawn and Buffy exchanged glances and began to smile.
“Did I mention that my room smells like a brewery?”
asked Dawn. “That’s not a good example to be setting your little sister!”
“And so we’ll blame it on Spike,” said Buffy firmly.
“Are you by any chance enjoying the being in charge around here?” she enquired.
Dawn sat down at the table beside her, looking smug.
“Well, I do seem to be the only mature person here at
the moment. Guess I’m the grown up. Which is weird – ‘cause
Spike’s like a hundred.”
“Are you really okay with this? That it’s Spike?”
asked Buffy cautiously. And found that she almost bit her lip clean through as
she awaited the answer.
“Of course. Spike is the coolest. I do mind it being in my *bed*!”
said Dawn pointedly. But with a glimmer of a smile.
“Never, never, never again,” promised Buffy.
“And you’re paying for therapy when I need it!”
“That seems only fair.”
“And when I
want naked boys in my bed you won’t complain.”
“Wow. I really did scar you for life. You’ve finally
lost your mind, sister.”
“Sorry. I forgot. Of course I would have naked boys in
“You’re never going to let me forget this are you?”
“The big money’s on no. Oh, and I heard a rumour that
there’s good odds on me not ever having to do chores again!”
Buffy smiled at her sister.
“I might take the garbage out for a while. But you are
still going to school and doing your homework, missy! And no
blackmailing Spike into doing it for you.”
“So you actually like him, huh? I mean, you weren’t
just trying to contaminate my bedroom to spite me.”
“Some days he’s the only thing that makes sense around
here. God. That’s disturbing, isn’t it?”
“He loves you. And you two do make sense in a weird,
shouldn’t-be-in-my-bed sort of way.”
“I’ll get over the trauma!” declared Dawn
dramatically. “You just have to promise me one thing.”
“And that would be?” asked Buffy suspiciously.
“I wanna be there when you
guys tell Xander,” she beamed.
Buffy groaned. “You are the sadistic evil sister from
hell,” she informed her. “I have no idea where you get that from.”
“You want to go tell Spike I’m not going to stake
him?” asked Dawn casually.
Buffy smiled and hugged her sister.
“And tell him not to even think about hogging the TV cos I’m planning to watch a lot of MTV today!”
Buffy got to her feet and headed out the door. As Hellmouth Buffy-birthdays went, that just hadn’t been the
worst. And Spike was about to be landed with taking the garbage out for a month
or two. Humming happily to herself she peeked around the living room door and
watched him, sprawled across the couch, muttering curses at the television.
He caught her glance and they smiled at each other.
And then there were the thoughts of a crypt visit and
ice to consider…..
“Oh, and Buffy?” came her sister’s voice from the
distance, “Do you think you guys could not have sex on the couch please?”