A Spike and Buffy Adventure – Literally!
Setting: Season 6, goes AU after Doublemeat Palace.
Warnings/Rating: 15. Okay… er… R I suppose. Lots and lots of naughty words anyway.
Summary: ‘She’d been a passenger in Spike’s mind way too long already; she didn’t want to stay there. Sharing one body was too… intimate and intimate was the one thing she didn’t want to be with Spike…’
And lest I forget: Many thanks go to myfeetshowit, who really should get a medal for her efforts and for listening to all my whinging and hesadevil who reassured me I hadn’t written a load of old tosh!
The Bronze was winding down for the night.
The lights had dimmed for the slow songs and only a few swaying couples remained entwined on the empty dance floor. New lovers exchanged lustful looks and moved together like liquid, each step made in anticipation of more to come. Established partners, perfectly in sync, curled around each other, close, loving and content. Buffy envied them and the normality of their love lives, she’d like a bit of that simplicity.
Spike, however, had no interest in the dancers. He breezed past the line of people waiting to collect their coats to get to his objective – the bar. A gaggle of young women in the line were teasing a group of hopeful boys with flirty looks, but he barely noticed them, even when they complained about the rough way he shoved his way between them. Ignoring their angry looks, he plonked himself down onto a stool by the bar and gestured for a drink with a wave of his hand as his other reached automatically into his pocket for his cigarettes.
“Can’t do that here,” the bartender said, pointing at the ‘No Smoking’ sign. Buffy didn’t recognise him, but he had to be new if he thought he could stop Spike from lighting up. He’d soon learn.
Spike glared at the man with irritation. The bartender must have seen something he didn’t like in that stare, because he quickly offered Spike the bottle and backed away.
Left in peace, Spike lit up and settled into his mope, easing his hurt with a long, comforting drag on the cigarette.
Buffy suppressed her need to retch as her, no his – she had to remember that – lungs filled with spicy smoke. The magic that bound them made the odd combination of his sensations and her reactions work together in strange and confusing ways. To his body, smoking felt natural and she didn’t even have the urge to cough, but there was a queasiness churning over in the pit of her stomach that was all her own. Probably because the cigarette tasted disgusting, completely different then when she kissed him; when the tobacco on Spike’s tongue tasted of passion and rebellion, something tantalisingly dangerous and exotic.
But cigarettes weren’t Spike’s only vice.
He grabbed the bottle, filling his glass with an over-generous measure before shakily knocking it straight back and pouring out another. He was drinking to get drunk, or drunker anyway, and Buffy’s head started to spin as the alcohol seeped into her system too. Each time he emptied the glass – and he emptied it a lot – he stared gloomily into the bottom, but every so often he would glance at the door to the bathrooms. Under his maudlin insobriety, a tight, burning ball of fear was lurking and it grew larger each time he looked away.
He was terrified of losing her again.
Buffy couldn’t believe it! A drunken wallow in self-pity was just what she didn’t need right now. Moping wasn’t going to fix anything. If he wanted to find her so badly he should have been out there doing something to help. Would she really have to solve this? Fine, she’d try to rescue herself.
There was one thing she thought she could try. Back in the Magic Box, she was sure he’d felt her concern about Willow; he’d picked up on her emotions at least, maybe she could try to do that again and it was as good a time as any to try and make contact. The Bronze was quiet and there were few distractions this late, if you didn’t count the huge amount drink he was necking. He was as relaxed as he was ever going to be while she was missing, so she cleared her mind, trying to focus on one emotion, one idea…
Spike? she asked.
Nothing. Spike dragged mournfully on his cigarette.
I need you to help!
Crap. She was pissed off now. Surely there had to be a way to get through to him. What was she doing wrong? She resolved to try one more time…
Not even a twitch.
She gave up. Stupid deaf vampire.
But her annoyance had sown a seed inside Spike. As he smoked, she felt her anger percolate through his despair until she could feel it in the tenseness of his muscles and the hard set of his jaw. She caught a sudden sense of decision before she was swept along on a wave of boozy determination. He finished the last of the bottle with one deep swig and slammed it down so hard that it shattered.
A lazy round of applause rippled through the club in reply.
Spike raised a hand to accept the cheers from his audience and lurched to his feet, dropping a couple of bills onto the bar as he clumsily disentangled his legs from the stool. He swayed a bit, waiting to regain his equilibrium before putting a foot forward and her head spun in sympathy. For the second time that night, being a passenger in Spike’s body didn’t seem so bad an idea; at least she wouldn’t have to walk straight.
People looked away when they realised the excitement was over and the Bronze went back to the business of closing for the night. The music faded and the last few stragglers were being encouraged to leave by the staff. No one noticed the vampire nip casually into the empty restrooms.
As he slipped in through the door, he glanced briefly at the broken mirror – the pieces had been swept away and the remaining parts were taped to the wall with packing tape for safety – he was more interested in the stalls. One by one, he searched them, inspecting each one carefully until he reached the stall where the witch had disappeared. Her candles had been cleared away and there was no trace left of her circle to prove that she’d ever been there, but he sniffed, drawing the air in deep.
Buffy was assaulted with a ripe bouquet of odours, most of them deeply unpleasant. She had no idea whether Spike could, but she wasn’t able to distinguish the scent of any particular person over the mingled perfumes of the evening’s occupants. Spike wasn’t giving his thoughts away. He left the stall and tried the next in line, which to Buffy appeared to be little different from all the others, but this was the place she’d dragged Spike for the quickie she’d needed after her soul-destroying shift at the Doublemeat. That seemed like another lifetime ago now.
Spike took extra care to examine the stall for more clues, even reaching behind the cistern in case she’d shrunk extra small or something; that was the only reason Buffy could think of to explain why he’d look there anyway — as if she’d ever get lost in such a place! But there was, frustratingly, little sign of the spell that had put her in his head. The only evidence anyone had been there at all was a slip of back lace hanging like a lost glove on a railing from the coat hook – her discarded and forgotten panties. Spike took them and gave them a nostalgic sniff, catching Buffy off guard with an eye-watering blast of her own musky scent.
She was too grossed out to notice him stuff them into his pocket.
Not for the first time, Willow stroked the mysterious stone, delighting in the way it gently hummed with inner energy against her fingers. She couldn’t stop touching it. She could tell it was more than just some magical curiosity Spike had found, its power was heady and it mesmerised her, drawing her into its spell.
But even for a black belt initiate in the arcane secrets of Google Fu like Willow, it had taken some searching to find out what the stone was; the Internet only giving up its secrets after she’d scoured the murky backwaters of some obscure occult message boards. A few unanswered postings later, user mildredhubble51 had supplied the answer and a sketchy definition of its abilities.
And very interesting those abilities had turned out to be. The Heartstone had been created to draw lovers together regardless of distance and would even work across dimensional boundaries if there was enough power behind it. Heaven and Hell were not beyond its reach. She was holding an object of incredible potential.
She couldn’t wait to try it out.
As Willow wondered how she could use it to help her with Tara, Xander and Anya returned from their own search. While Anya locked the alley door behind her, Xander crossed the shop and seated himself down beside Willow at the table.
“Hey,” Willow greeted them with extra chirpiness. “Did you guys find Buffy?”
Xander shook his head. “We looked everywhere, Will. There’s no sign of her anywhere.”
“She’s gone,” Anya added as she joined them, her hands buried deeply in her coat. “It’s as if some demon ate her up.”
“Good thing Dawn’s at her friend’s tonight.” Willow said. A fearful chill was building in her stomach. “Spike was right.”
“Seems like it. So what’s up? Do you have a lead?” Xander rubbed his hands together with all the glee of someone hoping that they wouldn’t be expected to join the research torment. “Did you find out about that stone?”
“Not really.” Unconsciously, she pulled the stone possessively against her body. “I checked the Wiccan Wiki. It didn’t say much.”
“The wacky Wiccan Wiki was no use, huh? How about that,” he quipped.
“But I do know what the stone is now.” Willow added defensively. “It’s a Heartstone, but I don’t think we can use it to find Buffy.”
“A Heartstone?” Anya perked up. “I’ve heard of those. They bind hearts together. Powerful stuff.”
Willow snapped her iBook shut just in case; there was no need for Anya to guess what she was planning. “How so?”
Anya sat down, settling into what Willow feared was her story-telling mode. “Well, there was this one witch I heard of and she raised a demon to get revenge on her husband. He was sleeping around while she was pregnant with their baby or something like that, but that isn’t important. This witch, she fell in love with this demon instead. They had a torrid affair blah de blah, and this demon created a Heartstone for her so that their hearts would be joined forever.
Xander looked wary, but his curiosity won out in the end. “What happened?”
“They tried to destroy the earth.” Anya told him matter-of-factly.
“But they were stopped, right?” he asked anxiously.
Anya put a hand on his arm to reassure him. “Oh yes. The whole thing was very messy. He was banished to one of the Hell dimensions. She was left here to live forever, bound to him through the stone, always feeling him close but never able to reach him. It was always doomed to go wrong, if you ask me.”
As Willow thought that over, she asked. “Could this witch be the one that took Buffy?”
Anya shrugged. “Maybe. She’d be quite old now.”
“Why, when was this?”
“Oh about 1566,” Anya said airily. “That was a good year for vengeance. I was in Scotland…”
Xander moved quickly to intercept her nostalgic reminiscing. “The point, Anya!”
She glanced at him. “You never listen to my stories.”
“Because they’re always really big with the gruesome, which we agreed was not a good thing.”
Anya pouted, but fortunately she didn’t seem to be too annoyed by his interruption. “Alright. The point is that we should be looking for this witch.”
Xander yawned and stood up. “I’m sorry. It’ll have to be tomorrow. I have a planning meeting in the morning.”
“What about Buffy?” Willow asked, shocked. “We can’t leave our friend lost out there!”
“I can’t miss this,” Xander pleaded. “Our client is coming.”
Anya nodded proudly and beamed up at him. “He’s coming to see Xander especially.”
Xander smiled down at her indulgently and Willow didn’t need Anya to blurt out what would be going on once they got home. “We’ll look for Buff tomorrow, Will. Besides, this is probably all in Spike’s mind. You know, she’s been disappearing a lot lately. I bet she’s just gone somewhere to clear her head.”
Willow sighed and slid her iBook into her bag. Xander was right, she shouldn’t be such a worrywart; Buffy did go off a lot on her own these days and she was sure Spike had been lying about the patrolling part. He’d probably just taken the stone from somewhere and had brought it to the Magic Box to see if it was valuable, thinking Buffy would make a convenient alibi.
Yet, a nagging doubt made Willow unsure that it was that simple. Spike had changed over the summer; she didn’t think he’d just make everything up, not about Buffy. She caught Xander’s infectious yawn. They’d know one way or another in the morning.
If Buffy showed up at all.
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/169552.html