Title: Strangers in the Night
Chapter#: (7/?)
Author Name: Spike's Slayer Vixen
Author Email: sara_pridmore@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy or Angel or any of the other characters
but I like to occassionally borrow them for a lil' fun ;)
Pairings: B/A, S/D
Category: Drama
Spoilers: This story is not set in a certain season. We are to assume
that Angel has his soul, but will not lose it when he sleeps with
Buffy.
Rating: NC-17
Author's comments: Thanks for the feedback! You guys are great. As a
treat, I have new chapters of Strangers in the Night, Want, Take,
Have, and a new series that I hope you enjoy.
Feedback: Please! Your feedback is all that keeps me going!
About thirty minutes later, Angel shoved Spike out of the door. Spike
was still naked, clutching his clothes as he hid behind a bush,
heaving violently. He didn't understand why he was having such a
strong reaction to what had happened. He hated his grandsire *and*
that pain in the ass Slayer. What was his problem? He wiped his mouth
with the back of his hand and pulled on his jeans. Pulling his shirt
over his head, he slipped on his boots and lit a cigarette. He was
thankful that the poofster had at least had the consideration to wait
until the sun was down to toss him out on his can. At least he didn't
have to worry about becoming a pile of dust. He trudged back to his
crypt, trying to clear his head, but her moans echoed over and over
again in his brain.
He flung the door open when he got home, not caring that it crashed
into the wall with a loud bang. He picked up a bottle of whisky he
had abandoned the previous night and took a long drink. It burned his
throat going down, but he didn't care. Anything to take his mind off
of the pain. He heard the faintest of sounds coming from behind
him. "Alright, whoever the hell you are, get your ass out here!" he
shouted, wishing for once that he could just be alone.
A feminine figure crept out from the shadows, dressed in a stunning
red velvet dress that hugged all of the right places. Blood red
fingernails, long dark hair, and eyes that didn't hold a single ounce
of sanity. He drew in his breath sharply. "Welcome home, my Spike,"
she crooned in her lilting voice. She swayed to the music that only
she could hear. It played eternally in her head, which was void of
anything even resembling rational thought. Another woman that his
grandsire treated like shit, only this one he drove insane. Spike
hadn't seen Drusilla since she had left him in Brazil. She had talked
of nonsense, saying that he loved the Slayer. It was pure rubbish,
but she believed it, and she left him. She had hurt him more than a
thousand years of torture. And now she had came back. "Did you miss
Mummy while she was gone?" she asked him in her usual loony way.
"What are you doing back here, Dru," he asked, his voice cracking
with emotion. Just seeing her felt like a thousand red hot pokers
stabbing him in his unbeating heart. Her arrival would have been a
shock on a normal day, but after the hell he had just endured, it was
debilitating. She was a sight for sore eyes and a broken heart.
"Miss Edith and I had a grand time in South America, but we missed
you so. The stars spoke to me one night and told me to come find you.
They told me that I must find you before the Slayer hurt your heart."
She place a slender, pale hand on his chest and rubbed her body
against his sensually.
"Luv, I assure you, the Slayer is not going to stake me. She needs
me," he said with a false confidence that sounded plastic, even to
himself. He wondered about that sometimes. In fact, there were nights
that he laid awake wondering just what the Slayer would do when it
came down to it. Would she plant her stake into his heart without
mercy? Probably.
"No, my Spike," Drusilla crooned, giggling hysterically. "The stars
didn't say that she would stake you. They said that she would break
your heart." She slid her hand down his body, grabbing his crotch as
she came to it. His erection bulged against the front of his pants
from just having her this close again. It would be so tempting to
just take her now. She was willing and able...ooooh was she able.
Somehow over the years, she had still remained so tight that it
nearly made his eyes go crossed everytime he entered her. Yeah, it
would be so easy... He felt her lips wrap around his cock right about
then and all trains of thought were completely derailed. He had been
so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed her slip to her
knees or unfasten his pants.
As she licked and sucked his shaft, he found himself trying
desperately to remember what it was that had been so important that
he hadn't noticed *that*. She felt so good, so comforting...so wrong
and foreign. He knew that it wasn't her that he wanted. She had hurt
him too badly the last time. As much physical pleasure as she could
give him, he knew that he couldn't let this happen. He vaguely
wondered when he had gotten a set of morals as he urged her back up
to her feet.
Her eyes looked hurt and confused. "Do I not please you, my Spike?"
she asked in a broken voice.
"Drusilla, I want you to leave," he managed to choke out. "Leave here
and never come back." He had always wondered how Angel had felt
staking Darla, his own sire, for Buffy and now he knew. It was
difficult and yet somehow very easy. She had hurt him for the last
time. It wasn't he that didn't deserve her. *She* bloody well didn't
deserve him. He now knew the ease with which Angel had staked Darla,
the pleasure and the power that came with it, as his heart silently
said his last farewell to Drusilla. He had finally found the courage
to stand up to her and not let her hurt him anymore. "We are through,
Drusilla," he told her gently. "I don't love you anymore, pet."
As soon as he had spoken the words, she was out of his life and out
of his heart for good. She let out a wail and broke down into her
childlike state, unwilling to accept the reality of what he said. He
sighed to himself and guided her out the door. "You have to go away
now, luv. Far away. Be a good girl now." He hated speaking to her
like she was a child, but at her present state, that is what she was.
He shut the door gently behind her, ignoring her cries and her
pounding on the door until at last all was silent and she had gone.
He closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Still, his mind was
not free of what plagued him the most. Being able to turn away Dru
tonight had been the final sign, the one that he could not ignore. He
was in love with the Slayer.
Angel padded back to bed after throwing Spike out the front door. He
was pretty sure that Spike had learned his lesson. He hoped so for
his sake because *next* time...next time all that would be left to
repent would be ashes blowing in the wind. He made his way back to
his bedroom and his lover. She lay there like a work of art, blonde
hair fanned out on crimson pillows. Golden skin and an exquisite body
lay there before him. Her hair was rumpled and she was yawning
lazily. "Wow, I feel like I've been up forever. What time is it
anyway?" she asked him groggily. She reached for the alarm clock
beside the bed, one of the few modern conveniences he allowed in his
mansion. "Holy shit!" she yelled, sitting up in the bed like she had
been stung. "I've got to get home! My mom is going to totally freak
out." She flung back the covers and began collecting her clothing.
Angel grinned an evil grin, watching her run around like a mad
woman. "Forgetting these?" he asked slyly, holding up the scrap of
material that Buffy called a thong. She looked at him sharply and he
handed them over, knowing that she had left her house at three in the
morning and now it was...what time was it? He squinted at the glowing
digital numbers on the clock. Fuck! It was already seven! He just
prayed to whatever force would listen that her mother had gotten as
drunk last night as she did ever other night and was hung over in
bed. It pissed him off so much when Joyce ignored Buffy for her
alcohol, but this time he would be thankful.
Joyce had became an alcoholic after her divorce with Buffy's father
and it had affected Buffy in a serious way. Her mother could be the
sweetest woman in the world until she started drinking. Then it got
ugly. She was verbally and sometimes physically abusive. Buffy might
have super strength, but when her mother raised a hand to her, she
never raised hers in return. If she didn't love her mother so much,
Angel would have killed the bitch a long time ago. No one hurt his
Buffy and got away with it.
She finished getting dressed and slipped on her shoes. "Love you!"
she called giving him a quick peck on the lips. "I'll see you
tonight." She made a mad dash out the door, praying that she wouldn't
get caught. She tried to be excited about seeing Angel later that
night and not think about why Spike's pain seemed to tug at her heart
so much, even after what he had done.
