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To Un-Live and Die in LA
Chapter Five Chapter 1 2 3 4 6 7
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Spike went to the fridge and handed out beers all around before calling out for a pizza. Spike slouched in the hard chair by the folding table, while Willow’s and Illyria’s positions mirrored each other; Willow sitting cross-legged on the couch, and Illyria on the bed.
“What’d Buffy tell you about what happened, Red?”
“She said you killed the army of Ubervamps, you sealed the Hellmouth and you died. That’s all. She won’t talk about it. She cried herself to sleep for weeks, but I never let on I knew or asked her about it. Then, when she and Dawn decided to settle in Rome, she said, ‘This is stupid. He died so I could live my life, and that’s what I’m gonna do.’ She hasn’t mentioned you since. I’m sorry, Spike, but I think you should know . . . she’s seeing someone.”
Spike nodded. “I know. Saw ‘em together a few weeks ago when Angel an’ I were in Rome.”
Willow’s jaw dropped. “You were in Rome? You and Angel? Together?”
“Yeah. Been workin’ with Angel for quite some time now. Heard she had crossed paths with the Immortal, so Angel an’ I charged off on our white horses to rescue her. Found out she wasn’t in need of resucin’ when Andrew informed us she was dating him . . . that they were together. So we trudged home, tails between our legs, an’ decided to move on with our own unlives. Angel’s been seein’ a nice girl named Nina, who happens to be a werewolf, and I’m with Blue, here, so you can tell her not to worry about us. If she happens to ask.”
The smirk faded from Spike’s face as the realization that Angel was dead hit him anew. Willow caught a glimpse of the devastated look on his face as he hurriedly got up to fetch more beers.
He stood hanging on the refrigerator door, pretending to search the contents, until he could get himself under control again.
Willow answered the knock on the door and paid for the pizza.
“Spike,” she said gently, putting the pizza box on the table. “Maybe we should start at the beginning.”
Spike took a deep breath and closed the fridge. The intimacy of the small table was more than he could bear, so offering the two chairs to Willow and Illyria, he began to pace.
“You’re getting’ the condensed version, Red, cause I’ve been through too damn much the last few days to go over it all again right now.”
Willow nodded to show she understood.
“Partway through the battle, the amulet started workin’. I think it drew its power from my soul. It pulled down light from the sun, channeled it through me and dusted the Ubervamps. The earth started rumbling, things came crashin’ down, the girls got out, I burnt up from the inside out and the Hellmouth got sealed.
"Someone or something retrieved the amulet from the Crater formally known as Sunnydale, sent it to Angel, and nineteen days later, I appeared as a ghost. Spent several months like that, almost got sucked into hell, another mysterious package recorporealized me an’ I started workin’ with Team Angel.
"Cordelia died, Fred died, Illyria rose from her ashes, we found out Angel took on W&H to save Conn . . . someone important to him, and they gave him the amulet. Angel took on the Circle of the Black Thorn, he died, the Senior Partners are cut off from their conduits to this world, so for the moment, things are quiet. The Senior Partners are temporarily shut down, the Hellmouth is sealed and we’re all very, very tired.
"There's more . . . lots more, but that’s all you’re gettin’ tonight, Red. Go make your report, do whatever you have to do. I’m going to bed.”
Willow touched his shoulder and quietly let herself out to find a hotel for the night and call Giles.
Spike heated a pint of blood in the microwave and drank it straight down. He was bone weary.
Illyria gave him a quizzical look, head tilted.
“Somethin’ on your mind, Blue?”
“You did not tell your friend that it was I who was responsible for the deaths of Fred and Angel.”
“No. I didn’t. Let’s leave it at that, for now.”
Spike pulled his T-shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor. He went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth.
“If you’re coming to bed, pet, could you not disappear those clothes? They’re mine.”
Dropping his pants on the floor next to the bed, he crawled between the sheets and was out like a light. Illyria picked them up and neatly folded them, carefully placing them on the chair. Her hand lingered on his T-shirt for a moment before she removed her borrowed clothes and added them to the pile. She looked uncertainly at the bed and the couch, not sure where she belonged.
Making her decision, she slipped into the bed. Subconsciously sensing her presence, Spike turned on his side and drew her close. Illyria closed her eyes, and for the third time in her life, she smiled.
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Andrew was so engrossed in his new comic book, he didn’t hear the key in the lock. A shadow loomed over him and he started, heart in his throat, looking up to see one brassed off Slayer, hands on hips, foot tapping.
“B-Buffy.” He smiled weakly. “I didn’t expect you back so soon. Can I get you anything? A cup of tea? Iced coffee? I also have a bold, yet piquant Chianti . . .”
“Actually, I’d like some answers.”
“Answers? No problemo. I can do answers. Uh, what are the questions?”
“Okay, you little weasel, I want to know exactly what’s going on, and why you’re acting so much weirder than usual.”
“It’s not my fault! He told me not to tell, so I didn’t! But then I sorta had to, so I told Giles. Oops, look at the time! I have that thing . . . that thing I have to go to. Bye!”
Clutching his comic book to his chest, Andrew dashed for the door.
Buffy shook her head and sighed. And Andrew had seemed to be making so much progress, too. Well, whatever he was terrified of telling her, he had apparently told Giles, so she’d just call Giles.
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Well, calling Giles had seemed like the solution to the problem, but she’d been trying for the past hour and his line was still busy. Who on earth could he be talking to all that time? She’d even checked with the operator twice and his line wasn’t out of order, it was just in use.
The International operator had said if it was an emergency, she could break in. Buffy had been tempted, but in the end, she couldn’t manage to justify it. Andrew was annoying and definitely twitchy, but not emergency status. She and the Immortal were going to a new club tonight, so she’d better get ready. She’d call Giles when she got home.
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Willow hung up the phone. She’d spent over an hour talking to Giles, and still hadn’t managed to clarify things in her own mind. She felt like the world had become a kaleidoscope, like those she had loved as a child. One small turn of the tube and the whole pattern changes. The whole pattern had changed and nothing made sense anymore.
She decided she’d follow Spike’s plan . . . and go to bed.
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Spike came instantly awake. Something was different. He relaxed as he realized the “something” was strands of Illyria’s hair that had brushed across his face when she moved. He had slept alone for so long, this was . . . nice. Even when he and Buffy . . . well, at the height of their passion, they had never slept together. She wouldn’t lower herself that far.
And the two times they did sleep together . . . that was all about comfort and support for her. He had thought he was getting his needs met by totally dedicating himself to meeting hers. He was wrong. No matter how much he loved her, it wasn’t enough. Sometimes he thought it would never be enough. He would never be enough. Because it was never mutual. It was All. About. Buffy. Last night . . . had it been just last night? . . . he and Illyria had met each other’s needs. And it had felt good.
Spike breathed in the scent of her hair. It was interesting . . . when she had her full powers, she was scentless. The body she wore was just a shell. But now . . . now she was different. Still strong and fast and deadly, but more human, somehow. She had merged with her body and now she had a scent—one that he could recognize as uniquely Illyria.
They were lying spooned together, Spike’s body curved around hers, arm thrown casually across her, her ass nestled into the curve of his hips. Spike felt his cock begin to stir. He tightened his arm around her waist briefly, and then slowly circled his palm, lightly caressing the taut, smooth skin of her abdomen. He widened the circles into a spiral, tracing the sharp edge of her ribcage before moving up to encircle her breast.
He momentarily paused to cup her breast, and then his palm continued his pattern of spirals. As he brushed against her nipple, he felt it harden, straining toward his palm. His hand continued to circle over her breast and she arched her back, changing the angle of her body, pressing both her breast against his hand and her ass against his erection.
Her eyelids fluttered open and Spike kissed the back of her neck. Wordlessly, she raised her arm, gathering her hair to get it out of his way, and again subtly changing the angle of her body.
Spike dropped light kisses along her vertebrae, while his palm continued to circle first one breast, then the other, the hollow under her ribcage and back to her abdomen. The heel of his hand dropped lower, lightly caressing her, and his fingers dipped between her legs.
There was a catch in her voice when Illyria finally spoke. “The form of the circle is never ending.”
Spike murmured his agreement.
“Spike?”
“Yeah, pet?”
“I do not wish your circles to be never-ending. I think I am in need of an . . . ending.”
Spike laughed. “As you wish, Buttercup. As you wish.”
Sliding his right hand under her, he cupped her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. His left hand parted her folds, stroking with a light, but insistent, touch. He was gentle with her; gentle in the way Buffy had never allowed him to be.
He felt her hips flex against his hand and he pulled her close, entering her from behind. The contours of her ass perfectly fit into the hollow between his hip bones and he slowly rocked his hips, feeling her wet warmth surrounding him. His thrusts were slow and steady, allowing her to set the pace.
Her breathing came faster and she ground her ass into his belly. He felt her begin to shudder and his teeth gripped the smooth skin at the base of her neck as he increased the intensity of his thrusts. She writhed against him as she began to climax and he held back his own orgasm until he felt her spasm around him. Only then did he allow his own release.
She relaxed against him and he slid both hands to her waist, loosely clasping them, and made no move to pull out of her. She laid her head back on his shoulder and lightly ran her thumb over his clasped hands.
Her voice was low and languid when she spoke.
“Spike?”
“Yeah, luv?”
“I believe I am . . . adapting,” Illyria mused. “I, also, am now a half-breed. It does not disturb me as much as I would have expected it to.”
“Good on you, then.”
“I find this making love very pleasurable. I am glad you wished to fuck.”
“So am I, pet. So am I.”
Spike closed his eyes and fell back to sleep.
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