Chapter 1
Scene 1: A crowded bar. A fairly large space, with tables, couches on one end; pool tables at the other with a long bar running down the side and a small dance floor in the middle.
Spike is sitting on the arm of one of the couches, beer in hand, looking rather bored. He periodically glances around the bar, as if he’s waiting for someone. A woman casually brushes passed him, slowing down on her way by just enough to say,
“Want to play pool?”
Without hesitation, he mutters “Yeah” and gets up off the couch to follow the woman. They walk to the rack with the cue sticks and she picks one off the wall and after giving it a once-over, hands it to Spike. She selects a second one for herself and grabs a piece of chalk, rubbing the blue powder over the tip.
“Nine ball?”, Spike offers with an air of disinterest.
The woman nods and then adds “Maybe we should pick up a third. The tables are pretty full.”
Spike shakes his head and with a smirk, “I’d prefer to humiliate you directly—after the lashing you gave me last week. ‘think I got my eye back.”
She can’t help but smile as she gives him a sideways glance. “You think so, eh? Well, then. I guess we’ll have to wait.”
As he glances across the room at the crowded tables, “Don’t you moonlight as a bartender here? When you’re not working for the Evil Empire. Can’t you just kick someone off?”
A quick frown crosses her face, “I don’t work here. I bartend down at Harvey’s on Spring Street. [She looks mildly annoyed, perhaps because she expected him to know this. She adds.] And it’s not really the Evil Empire anymore, is it?”
Spike shrugs “’matter of opinion. Empires are mostly always evil, despite their bloody mission statements. Besides, it’s still a law firm. [beat] Harvey’s. [Thinks about it a moment and then scrunches up his face in confusion.] But that’s a demon bar.”
Before she can respond, Spike’s cell phone rings. He answers it, has a short conversation and puts it away again.
Explaining, “Percy. Change of plan. We need to get to some warehouse down on Riverside—there’s a big rave going on there tonight and they’re running shuttles from just outside this place.”
She turns to put the cues back on the rack, “There’re some underground caverns beneath it—I’ve overheard murmurings about it at the bar. Does Wesley think that’s where the Re…[catching herself] thingamagig is?”
Spike just shrugs, looking a tad disappointed that the job hadn’t, in fact, fallen through as he’d suspected when Wes didn’t show up on time. They head to the door. Once outside, they find a long line of obviously rave-bound young adults waiting for the shuttle. They get in line and once the shuttle arrives, everyone pushes forward, but the progression is slow. Spike is behind her, their bodies pressed tightly together by the crowd. As they move slowly forward, he slips one hand under her arm and turning it over, runs it softly down the side of her torso, just brushing the side of her chest on the way down to her waist.
He leans in and whispers in her ear, seductively, “So warm.”
She closes her eyes slightly. She feels her heart flutter at the feel of his body behind her and the gentle possessiveness of his touch. She takes his hand, which is now resting on the side of her waist, and moves it under her shirt just across to her stomach, so he can feel the true warmth of her skin. He hums a response, obviously pleased at her reaction. But then they’re at the entrance to the shuttle and their embrace is disrupted. They climb on board and with no place left to sit, they stand next to each other, gripping the overhead bar for balance once the shuttle starts on its journey. After a few minutes, Spike breaks the silence by saying in an obviously suggestive manner,
“So what are we going to do now, since our pool game was interrupted?”
With a coy smile, she responds “What, after we meet Wesley? Hm. There’s always bowling. [beat] Why, did you have something in mind?”
He moves in a bit closer and looking straight into her eyes, he shrugs “We could fool around.”
She lets out a barely perceptible, knowing laugh. Instead of answering, she lifts her free hand up and touches the base of his neck, running her fingers downward to where the skin is pulled taught across his collarbone, pushing her fingers just under the fabric of his t-shirt. She inadvertently bites her lower lip. Spike grins.
The shuttle stops and they wait their turn to pile off. After some searching, they find Wesley—he sticks out like a sore thumb in the crowd.
As they approach, “You’re not dancing.”
With the closest thing to a smile Wesley ever divulges these days, he responds “I’d say it’s not my kind of music, but there was a time when I’d dance to just about anything. Believe me, you’re better off.”
Spike: “Let’s get this over with quickly, yeah? Where is the bloody thing?”
Wesley: “According to my sources, there’s a cavern just beneath us. I imagine the Quill demons are intending to use it tonight, taking advantage of the energy of the crowd above.”
Spike: “So what’s the plan?”
Wesley: “Well, I’d say you and I create a diversion to lure off the bulk of the guards, while she sneaks by the remaining few to grab the Cup. [to the woman, D] Do you remember what it looks like?”
D: “Yeah. The one you showed me in the library the other day.”
Wesley: “Yes. [beat] You sure you’re all right with this? You look a bit nervous.”
D: “Honestly, the crowd up here gives me the willies more than what’s down below.”
Spike: “Let’s go, then.”
They head to the cavern and things go roughly as planned. Spike and Wesley are busy fighting the guards while D walks sheepishly into the hall where some ritual is being preformed. She scans the room, looking for the Cup. There are four demons attending to the ritual. They obviously see her, but don’t react. She spies the cup, which is sitting on a pedestal in the middle of the group. She tentatively steps towards it. When she is just about close enough to touch it, one of the demons grabs it possessively, as he turns to look at her. Looking at her, he says in a slightly panicked voice.
“I do not wish to give it to you.”
She stands there a moment, looking around, sheepishly, at the other demons, thinking of how to respond. Finally she shrugs and simply says,
“But I want you to give it to me.”
Looking pained, the demon reluctantly thrusts the Cup towards her. She looks surprised, as if she can’t believe it was that simple. She takes the cup and mutters, absent mindedly, “thanks”, before she turns to go. As she steps away, one of the demons blurts out “you’re welcome” and promptly gets smacked by the one standing next to him. Once she clears the hall, she quickly navigates to the meeting point, where she finds Wes and Spike looking a bit winded, but not hurt.
Wesley: “You got it.”
Spike: “You sound surprised.”
Wesley: “I honestly didn’t expect it to be this easy. I mean, it was worth a shot, but Quill demons are notoriously possessive of their artifacts. I’m rather shocked that it worked.”
She hands Wesley the cup, shrugging. “It was just sitting there.”
Wesley: “And the demons guarding it didn’t bother you? Just like before?”
D: “Nope. They ignored me, like I wasn’t there. I was able to just grab it.”
She’s not exactly sure why she decided to stretch the truth a bit there. Maybe it would sound a bit too bizarre that the demons just handed it to her after she asked. It’s close enough to what happened, right? No harm done.
Spike: “Great, so we’re done then?”
Wesley: “Not quite.” Spike makes a face, and passes a quick, frustrated glance to D. “I need to take this to a specialist downtown to get a certificate of authenticity before we can deliver it to our shaman contact.”
Spike: “Certificate of authenticity? What is this, bloody e-bay?”
Wesley: “Long story. But it will safest for everyone if we get it done tonight.”
Spike: “But you can take care of it from here, right? You don’t need us.”
Wesley: “I’m happy to get the certificate, but I’d prefer to have some back-up for the hand off. You never know who might show up in circumstances like this.”
Spike: “Why not give ol’ W&H a ring—I’m pretty sure they have a goon-on-call service.”
She can’t help but smile at his impatience.
Wesley: “I’d prefer to keep it a bit more intimate than that.”
D: “Can you arrange the meet to be back at the club where we were before? Spike and I could go there now, have a look ‘round until you get there. [looking over at Spike] I know I could use a drink.”
Wesley: “Good. I’ll make the call. See you there in an hour or so.”
Spike: “Fine. Push off. See you at the bar.”
He stalks off. She follows after giving Wesley a slightly apologetic look.
**
They arrive back at the club. It’s quieted down some since they were there last and they’re able to get a space at the bar. They order a couple of drinks (tequila) from the bartender.
Spike: “So, you never quite answered my question back there.”
D: [She pauses a moment before answering, obviously contemplating what to say. She takes a breath and says, casually] “You prepared to make a night of it? [beat] Think I might be in the mood to try a little something.”
Spike: [Eyebrow raise. He leans in a bit, to avoid being overheard by the bartender] “Oh, I can imagine a few things we could try—maybe something to give your tongue a better workout.”
D: [Smiling, she turns to pick up her drink before responding.] “I was thinking something a bit more…incisive.”
After she says this, she opens her mouth just enough to show her tongue touching the tips of her front teeth.
A flash of a frown washes over Spike’s intrigued expression—he’s not quite sure if she means what he thinks she means and if she does, he’s not sure what to think about that. A sharp chill passes through his body. He has to concentrate a bit to suppress the demon from welling up at the hint of fresh human blood. He wouldn’t. Even if that is what she meant, he couldn’t. Too dangerous. ‘Course whether the root of his concern is for her or for him, he’s not sure. With a subtle head movement, he shakes it off. Still, he quite likes the idea of having her to himself for a night—she’s been a bit slippery so far. Not that he’s minded, really, just maybe he wouldn’t say no to a bit more. They’d hooked up twice—both times rather fast and furious and never in a particularly comfortable space. She’d surprised him the first time. [Thinking back.] It was nice to be surprised again.
[Memory flashback]
They were out on a job a couple weeks ago. They’d worked together a few times before. She seemed to do odds and ends for W&H—mostly informant type things, plus she had a way of knowing where to find certain demons of interest. Wesley had taken a bit of a professional interest in her as well, but Spike had never thought to ask why. So she’d been around the office from time to time—they’d passed in the hall. Guess they’d had a bit of flirtation the few times they’d been out and about. Ok, maybe nothing quite as overt as a flirtation—more of a mutual observance. She didn’t seem the sort to flirt, at least that’s the impression he’d got. He can’t quite remember what it was that caught his eye. Something subtle. No, wait, it was the fact that she seemed to exude subtlety, if that was even possible. He remembers being quite proud of himself for figuring that out—what it was about her that was different. She was nice looking—appealing might be a better word—once you took notice. But you wouldn’t pick her out of a crowd and you might not even notice if she walked right past. She had blonde hair that fell straight to just below the shoulder—the color not showy enough for a dye, maybe a mid-ash blonde. There was a distinct touch of red in the longest layer, which peeked out beneath the rest. She must have dyed it, as it was too distinct to be natural variation. From the back, it gave the effect of flames licking the base of her hairline. Still, you could miss it, if you weren’t looking closely. Her eyes were brown—not very dark. In fact, they almost appeared to match the red in her hair, as you sometimes find with redheads when they have brown eyes. It’s certainly an illusion, with the hair being on the brownish side of red and the eyes the reddish side of brown. It was a nice effect if you took the time to see it. There was nothing else distinguishing about her features, except that they blended well. She had a wry smile. He liked that. You could tell there was always something more behind it. Something to be discovered. Yeah, she definitely had an appeal. He’d thought about asking her out for a drink or something. You know, at some point. Not really in a rush. Ever since that ridiculously surreal trip to Rome, he’d had that nagging voice of the boy in his head, telling him to “move on”.
He rants to himself: “You know your life’s shit when you contemplate taking advice from a sexually ambiguous ponce in a tuxedo. Then with bloody Angel waltzing around the office with dog-girl, as if he’s the KING of the effing world for having a bloody girlfriend. Like THAT means he’s “moved on”. Like fucking a bottle blonde with fake knockers and a monthly hair problem proves a damn thing. Bloody idiot. Actually, maybe it does. Proves he isn’t capable of…..Aw, fuck it. Nevermind. I could have a shiny new girlfriend if I wanted. Could have one tomorrow, in fact. Not going to do it to prove a bloody point, though, am I? [beat] God, how many times am I going to do this? I’m the bloody idiot. Anything’s got to be better than this.”
That’s when he’d decided to give it a go. When the time was right and he felt like it. Soon, for sure. Couldn’t hurt anything to have a drink, anyway. Might as well have some fun. And the bird with the glimmer of something seemed as good as any. Of course, he hadn’t quite gotten around to it yet when they went out on that job the other week.
On that particular occasion she’d led him to the lair of a particularly nasty beast—some sort of demon hit-man. He’d knocked off a few of Wolfram & Hart’s relatively innocuous clients. The job was to find out who’d hired him and why—try to catch a glimpse of the big picture. Unfortunately, Spike had quickly lost his patience with the beast, who was showing no hint of cooperation and when he tried to make a break for it, Spike “accidentally” snapped his neck. Oops. Eh, he wasn’t too bothered. It’d been too long since he’d had a good fight anyway. Afterwards, they did a quick sweep of his place, looking for any sort of documentation. She spotted something that might be useful—a piece of paper with some scribblings on it—said it had the right feel to it. Spike tucked it in his pocket to bring to Wesley for deciphering.
Spike: [casually] “It’s late. I could call a taxi if you want.”
D: “You in a hurry to get somewhere?”
He looked over at her with a slightly puzzled look. She met his gaze and then glanced over to the cot next to the body of the dead demon. He followed her gaze to the cot and then looked back at her with a mischievous eyebrow raise. She gave him a shallow, wry smile. Quite unexpected that. He hadn’t seen it coming. The usual human precursors weren’t there—the nervous shift in demeanor, the slight quickening of the pulse. She just said it. Interesting. Most of all, he’d never even considered that she might make the first move; that perhaps he wasn’t in control of the timeline. Huh.
Spike: “No particular hurry. Why, what did you have in mind?”
D: [playing along, still matter-a-fact] “Oh, I don’t know. [beat] We could fool around.”
Now she was getting a bit flushed. Mmmmm.
Spike: [a quick laugh] “Yeah, alright. [beat] Not so shy after all, then.”
D: “Quiet’s not the same as shy. Figured you knew that.”
She casually walked over to the cot and sat down, smiling up at him. He quickly stripped off his duster and sat down next to her. Despite her prior forwardness, she waited for him to take the first kiss. Her lips, her tongue seemed impossibly soft. He quickly moved his hand to her neck, just inside the collar of her shirt. He noticed that unlike most humans he’d been with, she didn’t flinch at the first touch of his cool skin. Things were a bit of a blur from there—it’d been too long. Other than that disastrous episode with Harmony, his flesh had been untouched since he became corporeal—in any way that mattered. He’d almost forgotten. Once he felt her warmth, he had to cover himself with it. Soon, it was skin on skin, though clothes lingered at the edges. God how he ached. Within seconds, he’d spread her legs and was pushing at her entrance, uncharacteristically oblivious to everything else. Met with more resistance than he’d expected, he quickly awakened to her muted whimper and tight grip on his back as he’d slid himself only a couple of inches in. He retreated, deciding there was no real need to rush things.
D: [in a breathy whisper] “It’s okay. I’ll catch up in a minute.”
Spike: “Shhhh.”
He kissed down her belly, then across her neatly trimmed triangle of hair, sliding his tongue between her partially spread lips. She just needed a bit of warming up, is all. Soon her juices were flowing freely and her hole welcomed his slippery tongue. She pushed herself against him, moaning and gasping, trying to push his tongue in deeper. She let her knees fall wider and grabbed hold of his arms to pull him up—she was ready for him now and desperate to be stretched by him. “Please”, she muttered, though it’s unlikely he heard her, as he was well on his way in, frantic to submerge his throbbing cock. They both groaned when he slid into her tight, but now adequately slick hole, pushing his entire length deep inside her. As he began thrusting, delighting in the warm, wet friction, he remembers being surprised again by how vocal she was. Not loud. Everything in a heavy whisper…
D: “Oh FUCK. So good. Oh Spike. You feel amazing…Oh yeah…(etc.)”
She probably said more words to him when they were going at it than she had all night. He didn’t mind at all. He liked being egged on. God, he could feel her start to come—her heart fluttering, her breathing erratic—he could practically hear the blood coursing through her veins more quickly. It’s fun being a vampire. Then the words stopped and she was letting out these beautifully sexy little high pitched grunts. Finally, she thrust her pelvis up, as her inner walls closed tightly around his now explosive penis, like a fist trying to hold it in place. He fought the grip and thrust himself in deeper and faster and still deeper again, pounding into her as she screamed in delight. Aw, then it’s his turn—he could feel it build at the base, welling up in preparation. He abruptly stopped thrusting, postponing the explosion of pleasure for just an instant to enjoy the anticipation of inevitable release. Then with a grunt, he thrust into her quickly, shooting everything he’d been holding back into her small hot snatch. He couldn’t help but whimper with every exquisite pulse of his orgasm.
Damn, that was a good surprise. He’d needed that. She had too, from the smile on her face afterwards. After a brief recovery period, she’d moved to the edge of the bed and was leisurely re-clasping her bra and re-assembling her outfit. He was leaning back on his elbow, pleasantly watching her. She’d looked over her shoulder at him and with a warm grin, said “That was fun.”
It was nice to see a smile for a change; completely genuine, without a hint of regret.
But then things took a slightly less optimistic turn.
D: “The thing is, I’ve got a boyfriend. Darryl, down in Accounting. So I was thinking maybe we could keep this quiet.”
Spike: [Here we go…] “Darryl. [said with a profound distaste for the name, complete with a disgusted frown] He works for Wolfram and Hart?”
D: “Yeah. That’s how I go into this whole…thing.”
Spike: [Slightly put off] “Don’t you think you should’ve mentioned that before the fucking?”
D: [Thinks about it for a moment] “In hindsight. Then again, I sorta had the impression you weren’t really looking for anything…long term, so I figured you wouldn’t mind so much.”
Spike: [Slight frown, but he plays it cool.] “Well, yeah. I mean, I’m not….looking for anything.”
Though he was a bit disappointed that this was probably a one-off. Now he’d have to go to the trouble of picking someone else. Bloody perfect. I mean, who’s got the energy?
‘Course it turned out not to be exactly a one-off. They’d hooked up again the next week and it looked like they’d be at it again shortly. Things could be worse.
[Back to the present]
D: “So. What do you think?”
Spike: “I think, I’ve already been kept waiting too long tonight. I’m losing patience. [Leaning in close enough to whisper directly in her ear.] So I say we find a dark corner in this place first—you let me have a go here and I promise to take you back to my place after and give you a proper seeing to. [He licks his lips.] That is, if you think your tight little pussy is up for an all-nighter.”
She closes her eyes at this and if it wasn’t so dark, you’d see the slight flush in her cheeks. He leans back in his chair with a naughty, expectant little grin. He’s never quite sure what kind of reaction he’s likely to get—maybe that’s what makes it so fun. She drains her glass of tequila and slides off her chair, lightly grabbing his hand on her way passed. He stops a moment to finish his drink and then follows her lead.
D: “We’ll need to watch out for Wesley—he could be here any minute.”
Spike considers this and glances around the club, looking for a spot that will satisfy all their needs. There is a slightly raised area along one side near the restrooms. They head in that direction. They find a decorative curtain just to the side—not quite enough to hide them completely, but it’s in a quiet part of the bar and they’ve got Spike’s duster for additional coverage. She can have her back to the wall and see out across most of the club by looking out to the left and through the edge of the curtain. Instantly grasping the plan, Spike moves in quickly for a kiss, pushing her back against the wall. He unfastens the top of her low-rider cargo pants while she pulls at his belt and undoes the buttons on his jeans. He pulls away from the kiss and puts two fingers in his mouth, being sure to coat them thoroughly with saliva. He pulls her pants and panties down a bit with his other hand and then slips the coated ones between her legs with the intention of giving her some quick lubrication. But when his fingers push past her outer lips, he lets out a small laugh.
Spike: “No need for a jump start, then.”
He can’t help but slide his fingers down her slippery length and partially up her hole as he says this. She closes her eyes and whimpers her approval.
D: [breathless] “You’re not the only one who was losing patience.”
He reaches his hands around her hips, lifting them up just enough to give him direct access. He pushes forward and slides himself in with a grunt. She stifles a sharp gasp—every time, she’s surprised at his size, at how much he stretches her. It hurts for a few thrusts, but once he’s thoroughly coated with her juices, she can relax and revel in the cool friction. She’s never done it in a public place and is surprised how much she’s getting off on the excitement, watching the crowd just a few meters away. She wraps her legs around his lean body as he selfishly thrusts, a hint of a snarl on the edge of his lips. At one point, someone in line for the toilet spots them and can’t help but stare. Spike sees him and growls:
Spike: “What’s the matter—never seen anyone fuck before?”
The guy turns away, embarrassed. Spike gets back to his rhythm. She bites her lip to stop herself from groaning, as his thrusts start to tug at the base of her swelling clit. She glances over to the curtain opening.
D: “Uh…[thud]…I think…[thud thud]…Wesley’s here….[thud thud thud]…oh god that’s good…[trying to focus] He’s looking for us…[thud thud thud]…”
Spike: “Guess I’d better get to it.”
He picks up the pace as she nervously watches Wesley getting closer.
D: “He’s…[thud thud thud thud]…almost here.”
Spike: [eyelids fluttering, intense frown] “Good thing I’m coming, then.”
And with that, he thrusts one more time and with a muted groan and a few quick breaths through clenched teeth, he’s done. Just as Wesley’s gaze falls in their direction, Spike pulls out, puts her down and steps back. They just have enough time to button up their trousers before they’re spotted; She’s a bit pink in the cheeks and Spike quickly pulls his duster closed, to cover the sight of his still hard knob peeking just above his jeans. Wesley walks over to them and after a brief and stilted greeting, starts explaining the situation (who they’re meeting, exactly where, etc.). In a moment, an “oh shit” look crosses her face—she glances down to see the wet spot forming in the crotch of her pants where her body has released Spike’s juices. She grabs a half-full glass from a nearby table and pretends to “accidentally” spill it on herself. Spike smiles knowingly, as she excuses herself to use the bathroom to clean up. It’s a rather obvious ploy, but as usual, Wesley chooses to stoically ignore it and stick to business. He simply couldn’t care less. He and Spike agree to handle the exchange on their own.
Flash forward to Spike’s apartment a while later. He unlocks the door to let her in. She has a quick look around.
D: “Not so much of you in this place, is there?”
Spike: “Haven’t been here long.”
D: [She can tell it’s more complicated than that.] “Did you have to leave in a hurry—the place you came from—leave your stuff behind?”
Spike: “Something like that.”
He steps towards her and then drops to his knees and starts working on the clasp of her trousers.
D: [a bit taken aback] “I should probably shower first.”
Spike: “Why? You’ll only have more to wash later.”
He continues to pull down her pants, exposing her curly blonde muff.
D: “Uh, most guys are kinda funny about…that.” [tasting themselves]
Spike: [smirking up at her] “You’re about to find out, I’m not like most guys.”
She looks skeptical and perhaps a touch nervous, until he pushes his face forward and starts working his tongue between her still moist lips. She rests her hands on his head as he hungrily strokes her length with his cool tongue. Oh yeah. This is going to be fun.
Flash forward to sometime later. They’re on the bed now, naked. She’s on top, riding him, her body covered in a fine sweat. He has his hands resting on her hips as she rhythmically lifts herself up slightly and with a gentle pelvic tilt pushes herself back down, stroking his long, hard, cock with her inner walls. He’s intently watching her face as she moves, drinking in her every expression, occasionally cupping one of her swaying breasts, or leaning forward to take one in his mouth and suck it until the nipple is hard and red.
Spike: “See, nice and slow. No rush, luv. That’s nice. mmmmm. I can feel you squeezing me.”
D: [Her eyes seem a bit glazed over] “I want to make you come. I want more of you inside me.”
Spike: “Soon. But I want you to go first this time.”
He licks the thumbs of both hands and moves to place them alongside her swollen clit, so that each time she thrusts, they’ll brush past her most sensitive area.
D: [eyes widening] “No. I can’t. Not again. I’m done.”
Spike: “Oh, I don’t think so.”
D: “It’s too much. I…”
He places his thumbs and with the first stroke, she stops talking. Soon she’s moving faster, whimpering with pleasure, though frowning as if she’s in pain. She almost looks like she could cry, but she can’t stop herself from moving. Beads of sweat start to form on her head and neck.
Spike: “That’s a good girl.”
D: [She whines, at first plaintively and then as an almost chant to go along with her own thrusting] “I can’t…I can’t, I…”
Then her words melt into grunts and whimpers as she pumps harder and harder. Spike can’t believe the myriad of squeezes and twists and thrusts her body is inflicting on his knob—it feels unbelievable—he’s close to losing control, particularly with the sight of her fighting and yet surrendering to the pleasure with all her might. DAMN that’s sexy. In a minute, he hears her make the loudest noise he’s ever heard come from her lips—a groan beginning low in her throat, growing to an untamed shriek. He feels her body convulse on top of him, her inner walls spasming. Soon, her loud groans become progressively muted until they mellow to a series of whimpers, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. Forgetting his own state for a moment, he can’t help but drink in the sights and sounds of her overwhelmed body as she lays on top of him, trying to stifle an exhausted laugh.
D: [completely breathless] “You win. That’s it. I’m done. I honestly didn’t think you’d take the ‘all-nighter’ thing so literally. I just wanted to see you naked.”
Spike: [playful, smiling] “I’m happy to take it from here, you quiet little harlot. Nobody knows what a vixen you are, do they? How much you love it.”
He flips them over so that he’s on top and starts pumping again. She puts her hand around his neck and smiles up at him, looking relaxed, satisfied. She stares into his eyes and her smile fades to something different. He lowers his torso and kisses her. He’s right on the edge, his mind hazed with pleasure. She whispers,
D: “I want you to bite me.”
Immediately and without his conscious approval, his demon surfaces. Her eyes wash over his face, curiously exploring his changed features. His mind swirling with desire, he tries to fight it.
Spike: “No, I…”
He’d been expecting this, expecting to hold back, but now his clouded mind he can’t remember why. Suddenly, he can feel her blood.
D: [Interpreting his hesitation as concern for her.] “Maybe my arm.”
She starts to present it to him, but he’s already diving to her neck, unable to resist. He pauses just as his teeth touch her skin and then slowly bites down. Her eyes widen and she can’t stop a plaintive whimper from escaping her throat. After taking a few deep mouthfuls, he pulls away and in an instant forcefully shoots his load into her with a long, deep groan. Overwhelmed by the dual gratification, he collapses back onto her, his mind wiped clean of any conscious thought.
Flash forward to later that night/early the next morning. They’re both sleeping soundly. He’s on his back—she’s next to him on her side, her arm resting on his shoulder. A cell phone starts to ring. She stirs first, sluggishly rolling over and looking for her bag on the floor by the bed. She finds it after a few rings and rolls back over onto her back to answer it. By now, Spike’s eyes start to flutter open.
D: [groggy] “Hello? [pause (we only hear her side of the conversation)] Darryl—yeah, I’m fine. [pause] Sorry, didn’t hear it ringing. [pause] It was fine. Listen, I can’t really talk right now. [pause] Well, I’m sorry I ruined your night. [pause] You’ve still got a few hours before the meeting, so get some sleep. [pause] No. I’m at Spike’s. [pause] Well, we were having sex, but now we’re sleeping. [Spike’s been casually listening up to this point, but when he hears this, he re-opens his eyes and looks over at her with a surprised expression.] [pause] We’ll talk about it tomorrow. [pause] No. [pause] I don’t know. Just go to bed. [pause] I’m hanging up now and I’m turning off the phone.”
She does as she said, and tosses the phone back into her bag.
Spike: “Not one to soften the blow, then.”
D: [She misinterprets his surprised look] “Oh, don’t worry. There’s no pressure. I don’t expect…things don’t have to change. It’s just…I don’t like to lie—and I’m not much for the sneaking around either.”
Spike: “You could’ve not answered.”
D: “Yeah, but he knew I was out on a Wolfram and Hart job and as an employee, he knows the odds are a bit scary in terms of personal safety. I figured it’d be better for him to be angry at me than think I’m dead.”
Spike: “Maybe.”
D: “I must sound pretty heartless. [beat] The thing is, we’ve become more of a habit than anything else—he knows it too. He’s not a bad guy. Very self-absorbed—‘course that’s one of the reasons I stayed with him. Made things easier.”
Spike: [Shrugs his lack of caring about Darryl’s feelings] “Bye bye, Darryl.”
D: “You mind if I stay?”
Spike: “Do what you like.”
Things are looking up. He wouldn’t mind having her to himself for a bit.
She rolls to the edge of the bed and sits up, rummaging on the floor for a t-shirt.
D: “Need a glass of water. Think I’m a bit dehydrated.”
Spike: [with a delightful smirk] “Can’t imagine why.”
But the moment she stands up and takes her fist step, her legs appear to give out and she falls onto the floor. Spike leans to peer over the bed at her. She’s lying on her back, but quickly lifts herself up on her elbows.
Spike: “You alright?”
D: “Guess I’m a bit dizzy. [She puts her hand on her neck] Forgot about the blood. [a hint of a smile] See, when I give blood to the Red Cross, I get juice and crackers and sometimes a little sticker to put on my jacket. Do you have juice and crackers?”
Spike: “No.”
D: [considering for a moment, with a wider grin] “Eh, I prefer the multiple orgasms.”
Spike: “Actually, I might have a stash of Homewheats—[translating] cookies.”
He gets up out of bed and goes to the kitchen, returning a minute later with some biscuits and a glass of water. He’s chewing on one himself. He hands them to her (still on the floor) and gets back into bed. She eats a couple and drinks the water and then climbs back up.
Spike: “Better? [She nods and starts to pull the sheet up] Hang on a minute. [feigning seriousness] I’ve got a nudity rule.”
D: [?? waiting for an explanation] “Ok.”
Spike: “No clothes in the bed.”
He starts to tug at the t-shirt she’d thrown on before attempting to get up. She gives him a skeptical sideways smile, but then obliges by getting naked again and THEN pulling the sheet up. He takes a quick look at the bite mark on her neck—perhaps feeling a bit guilty (bloody soul of his!).
Spike: [as he’s gently running his fingers over it] “Was that…Ok?”
D: [thinking about it for a minute] “Yeah. It was…good…different…I mean it hurt, but…not much more than losing my virginity, from what I remember.”
Spike: [thinking for a moment] “Why?”
D: “Curiosity. I guess I just wanted to see what it was like. [Pause, then a smile] Same reason I had sex for the first time.”
Mostly satisfied with her answer, he rolls over on his side, indicating it’s time for more sleeping. She moves closer to him and without thinking, cuddles up close and puts her arm around his waist (she’s on the outside of the spoon).
Spike: “You cold?”
D: [catching herself] “Oh, sorry. Too much cuddling. I usually get claustrophobic too, but…”
She starts to move away and pulls her arm back.
Spike: “Was just wondering if you were cold, is all. I have a blanket in the closet for when I’ve got to rush out in the day.”
D: “No, I’m fine.”
He turns a bit and reaches for her arm, which he pulls back around his waist as he turns back over. She inches closer, moving her body so that it’s just touching his and her lips are only an inch or so from the back of his neck. This last interaction confused her. She could sense the conflict in him. A surge of empathy washes over her, though the source is unclear. It compels her to cross the inch separating them and gently kiss the base of his neck—just at the knob of bone below the inward curve—before closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep.
She ends up staying until the next evening. They spend the day leisurely laying around in bed, goofing off. She’s postponing the inevitable “talk” with Darryl and Spike doesn’t mind having some company for a change. It’s a good day. She leaves around 7 to go back to her apartment to shower and then to Wolfram and Hart, where she has some sort of “official” meeting with Wesley and some others. She’s not quite sure what it’s all about, but she has enough else on her mind to not think too much about it.
End Scene.
Scene 2: Angel’s office.
Angel is standing behind his desk. Lorne is sitting on the arm of a chair, sipping a drink. Wesley is standing a few feet away, holding a file folder. The meeting has already started.
Angel: “That her file?” [Indicating the folder in Wesley’s hand]
Instead of answering, he steps over and hands the file to Angel, who promptly lets it drop on his desk and flicks open the cover.
Wesley: “She was raised by Pastuyk demons until the age of 8. She has no recollection of her human parents or how she came into the care of these creatures. She was found wandering the grounds of a school in suburban Chicago and subsequently put into foster care.”
Angel: “Pastuyk demons? Peaceful, I’m guessing.”
Wesley: “For the most part, yes. Though they do go through a violent stage in pubescence and have been known to hunt and kill humans during that time. We don’t really know much else about them.”
Angel: “Why is she here?”
Wesley: “She moved to L.A. with her boyfriend, Darryl Jones. He was hired by Wolfram and Hart straight out of college and then transferred to the L.A. office three years ago—he’s an accountant. Human.”
Angel: “That’s her connection to us.”
Wesley: [nods] “We came across her by accident a few months go—one of our field people was meeting a potential informant in a demon bar across town—Harvey’s. Turns out Ms. Nyssa was working behind the bar—the agent recognized her from one of the office Halloween parties.”
Angel: “A human bartending at a demon bar? Seems unlikely. Or incredibly stupid.”
Wesley: “That’s why he mentioned it in his report. I was intrigued and set up a meeting. She claimed the demons didn’t bother her. That she’d never had a problem. She also mentioned that she sometimes overheard things—things that might be of use to us. She’d learned about the change in management when we…you…took over Wolfram and Hart. She expressed an interest in helping out.
Angel: “That’s when you started working with her.”
Wesley: “On a case by case basis. It was less her potential as an informant as her apparent invisibility to demons that compelled me to take her on.”
Angel: “You think it’s related to her upbringing? Something the…uh…[glancing at the file]…Pastuyk demons rigged up as protection?”
Wesley: “It’s possible. Though it’s hard to imagine a spell that could be so universal in its effects. And strictly speaking, it’s not that they don’t see her—they simply don’t react to her—they do not appear to see her as a target or a threat. It’s intriguing, for sure.”
Angel: “And you want me to hire her full-time to indulge your curiosity? We’ve got a lot on our plate right now, Wes. I’m not sure it’s the time to be bringing in new faces.”
Lorne: “Oh, that’s right. Our specialty of late falls on the losing faces side of things.”
Wesley: “I think she could be quite useful to us. There are other capacities in which she might be of value. She has a certain connection to demon languages….”
Angel: “We’ve already got a department full of translators, I don’t see how…”
Wesley: “It’s not translation, exactly. It’s not about the words. It’s more like an ability to detect the mood or intention of a bit of text or spoken language—particularly useful in situations when a set of words or piece of text can have many disparate interpretations.”
Angel: “Like ancient prophesies, for example.”
Wesley: [nods, acknowledging the not-so-subtle dig] “We don’t know the extent of her abilities, but I think it’s worth a deeper look.”
[Skeptical frown from Angel.]
Lorne: “Tell him the best part.”
Wesley: “She appears to get along quite well with Illyria.”
Angel: “I didn’t think Illyria was the ‘get along’ type.”
Wesley: [shrugs] “Yes, well, that might have been a bit of an overstatement. Illyria expresses less contempt and disgust for her than most other humans. Perhaps it’s related to the spell. The point is, Ms. Nyssa appears to have a calming affect on her.”
[Angel considers this a moment.]
Angel: “What makes you think we can we trust her? Maybe she’s a plant. I’m not in the mood to get burned again.”
Lorne: [cheerful] “Oh, she’s a great kid. Not much of a singer, sadly, but heart-of-gold for sure. Good intentions all around.”
Angel: “You’ve been wrong before.”
Lorne: “Hey, thanks for the salt. I’d just about managed to wash away those brain cells.” [He takes another long drink from his seabreeze.]
Wesley: “I think Lorne’s right about this one.”
Angel: “Well, we all know you’ve got trust issues, so if you think we can trust her, then…”
Wesley: “Perhaps you should meet her yourself. She’s waiting outside.”
Angel: “Fine. But let’s make this quick.”
Wesley goes to the door, opens it and guides her inside. She has a brief look around and then stands, facing Angel and the others. As soon as she walks in, Angel remembers that he’s seen her around the office once or twice. At least she looks a bit familiar. Her file says she’s 26, but she’s dressed like a teenager—Or maybe he’s just gotten used to the parade of suits that is Wolfram and Hart. She’s wearing jeans and a snug t-shirt (orange with a thick red star just below the chest area)—she’s got multiple piercings in her ears and a tiny scar on her nose indicating a failed attempt at a nose ring.
There’s an awkward moment of silence. Wesley snaps out of his gloom for a moment and realizes that he should make the introductions.
Wesley: “Angel, this is Meredeth Nyssa.”
She waves a greeting, not knowing whether she’s meant to walk over and shake his hand or not.
Angel: [Looking down at her folder, awkwardly.] Meredeth Nyssa. What sort of name is that?”
D: “’Nyssa’ is Greek, but I’m not. My foster mom picked it—she was a bit of a hippie.”
Wesley: [explaining] “Nyssa means ‘beginning’.”
D: [seeming a bit nervous] “Most people call me Deth. Some call me Merry, as in Merry Christmas.”
Angel frowns at these choices.
Angel: “Maybe we’ll just stick with Meredeth. [moving on] So you were raised by demons. That must’ve been….different.”
Deth: [ignoring the last bit] “Uh, yeah, nobody calls me Meredeth.”
Awkward eye shifting.
Angel: “Wes tells me you’re some sort of demon language empath.” [He sounds skeptical/unimpressed.]
Deth: [frowning slightly; considering the description, she turns toward Wesley and asks with genuine curiosity] “Is that what you think I am?”
Wesley: “It’s a possibility.”
Lorne: “The signs are there, kitten.”
Angel: “Why don’t you tell us what you think you are.”
Deth: [A quick frown, then a resigned shrug.] “I don’t know.”
More awkward silence.
Wesley: “Why don’t you describe to Angel what you’ve told me.”
Deth: [frowning] “About language? [Wes nods] I don’t understand what they’re saying exactly, but I get a vibe when they talk to me. Or when I look at something they’ve written.”
Wesley: “And it appears to happen with any demon language. Though we haven’t tested it thoroughly.”
Angel: “A vibe. Sounds pretty vague. [She shrugs] What sort of “vibe” are you getting from me?”
Deth: “I’ve never been able to read vampires very clearly—You and Spike least of all.”
Angel: “Spike?”
Wesley: [explaining] “They’ve worked together on a couple of jobs.”
Deth: “I think it’s got to do with vampires having been human—it’s like a mask that lingers. And then you two with souls and all.” [shrugs]
Wesley: “And you’ve also said that you get less if they’re speaking a language you understand.”
Deth: [nods] “That said, it’s pretty obvious you don’t want to be here—that you think I’m wasting your time. Well, that Wesley’s wasting your time.”
Angel: “Is he?”
Deth: “I’m sure you’ve got bigger things to think about.”
Angel: [pause] “How long have you been working at Harvey’s?”
Deth: “Couple of years.”
Angel: “And the clientele doesn’t hassle you?”
Deth: “Never have.”
Angel: [to Lorne] “What about anti-violence spells, like what you used to have at Caritas?”
Lorne: “At Harvey’s? Please. Harvey wouldn’t spend money on a spittoon.”
Wesley: “It’s not restricted to the bar. Just yesterday, she walked right passed some Quill priests.”
Angel: “You were there?”
Wesley: “Well, no, but she was able to get the artifact we were after without any trouble.”
Angel: [Something occurs to him] “Quill demons…did I know about that?”
Wesley: “Small stuff. Didn’t seem necessary to trouble you with it.”
Angel: [He frowns a moment and then turns back to Deth] “What’s that on your neck?” [Referring to a bandage only partially obscured by her collar and hair.]
Deth: [Reflexively moving her hand up to touch it.] “Got caught by a thorn when I was hiking.”
It’s a rather obvious lie—she’s pale as a sheet, not someone who spends much time out and about in the California sun. Obvious enough to make a point. She doesn’t break her gaze with Angel. He decides to let it go.
Angel: “Do you know why you’re here?”
Deth: “Wesley said something about a job. And I’d bet with things as they are, you’re not prepared to take anybody’s word for anything.”
Angel: “What do you think?”
Deth: “Does it come with benefits?”
Angel: [not exactly what he was expecting] “uh…”
Deth: “You know, health care and stuff.”
[Angel looks around, confused.]
Wesley: “We have in-house doctors and connections with the major hospitals in the city.”
Deth: “What about, like, self-defense classes. Kick-boxing or something. I’ve never had any training.”
Lorne: “Me neither, thank the stars, and I get along just fine. Well, mainly I just hide behind the guy with the biggest gun, but whatever works, right?”
Wesley: “I don’t see that training would be necessary considering your situation, but if you had an interest, I’m sure we could work something out.”
Angel: [annoyed] “Since when did this become a negotiation?”
They all stare at him.
Deth: [getting it] “You want to know what I think about working here, in principle. [Angel shrugs in the affirmative.] I like the changes you’ve made. I think I could be of use. [pause. Angel is waiting for her to say more. She looks around uncomfortably, not knowing what else to say.] I’d like to help you out.”
Angel: [He pauses a moment, then says] “Would you mind stepping out of the room a minute?”
She nods and strolls across the room to the door. She stops in the doorway and turns back.
Deth: “I’d rather not have to quit Harvey’s.”
She nods, satisfied that she’s said everything she wanted to and then steps through the door. Once she’s gone:
Angel: “Who goes by ‘Deth’, anyway? That’s just weird.”
Lorne: “She’s a good egg, Angel.”
Angel: “She doesn’t say much. I like that. [beat] Put her on the payroll, but see what else you can find out about who she is and what she can do.”
Wes nods.
End Scene