Chapter 3
Scene 1
A couple of weeks later, Deth’s apartment. Spike and Deth are spooning in her tiny bed, pressed closely together. Close-up on Deth’s face.
She’s dreaming. It is one she has had before—she is underwater, floating. She looks up to see the surface many meters above her, the sun’s rays dimming in their approach. The water is a calming blue. As before, she is able to breathe through the water; or perhaps she doesn’t need to breathe at all. She can never remember which it is. What she lacks is the desire for escape that swells from the urgency of air. She is free of it, of everything. She leisurely pushes her way through the water, letting her eyes scan the bottom for life. She spies a small reef not far away, and makes her way towards it. There are multi-colored starfish increasing in abundance, as she approaches the ridge of teeming life. She is alone. There are never any fish in her dreams, or anything moving freely in the water except for herself. Just as she nears the reef, her forward progress is abruptly halted—she has stopped swimming and floats a moment, her legs pressed tightly together.
[Switch perspective back to the bed.]
Spike is awake, his lips just to the side of her exposed ear. With one hand gently resting on the outward curve of her neck towards her right shoulder and the other under her arm, holding her left breast, he shifts his body under the sheets—Deth’s eyes fly open and a small gasp escapes her lips. His eyes close as he reassures her with a soft, whispered “shhhhhh” and a loving squeeze of her breast; he strokes the back of her neck with the thumb of his right hand until he feels her relax. Over the past half hour or so, he had been preparing her body as best he could without waking her. He had worked his moistened fingers between her legs while carefully massaging her exposed breasts. Her mind was still sleeping soundly, but he had felt her body respond surprisingly quickly to his touch. When her own moisture began to replace the saliva he had used to allow freer movement of his fingers along her inner lips, he had replaced his fingers with his swelling cock—just slowly and gently rubbing it down the slick path of her pink folds. He had woken up with a huge boner and now the warmth of her moist center felt delicious against his taught skin. Oh yeah, he’d just give her a little morning-surprise. What a way to wake-up, eh? So he had positioned himself just right so he could push his length into her with minimal movement. He knew she would wake up a bit disoriented, so he made a point of engulfing her entire body with his own, pressing skin against skin wherever possible. Now that he was inside her, he held that exact position a moment until he was sure she was fully awake and aware. For that moment, just an instant, it wasn’t sexual; She was surrounded, penetrated by him, but there was no desire for escape, no claustrophobia; Her warmth had seeped into his skin so thoroughly that he wasn’t sure he knew where his body ended and hers began.
But then the ache grew stronger. He began a very slow rhythm of thrusting—pulling himself out millimeter by millimeter, then pushing back in just as slowly; A restful, morning shag. He exhales a relaxed moan and then whispers in her ear,
Spike: “How do you stay so tight with all the fucking we do?”
This sends a chill down her spine, straight to her parts, causing a brief pulse, which she is sure he must be able to feel. God, she loves it when he talks dirty—something about his tone. Up to now, it had been mostly foreplay; a little game they would play at the bar or at the office long before the clothes come off. Now having him tightly nestled inside her and THEN starting with the talk… Just the way he says ‘fucking’. His body so close, he must have felt her heart skip a beat, even if he didn’t feel the brief throb of her clit.
Deth: “I must’ve been a very good little gi…rl.” She barely gets the word out, as he doesn’t stop where he had with his previous thrust and pushes his thickness even further in. She bites her lower lip and closes her eyes. He lets out a barely perceptible grunt at the same time.
He wants to hear more. He likes that she can’t keep her voice steady.
Spike: “Tell me what you dream about.”
[Slowly out]
Deth: “St…”
[Slowly in]
Spike: [quickly] “Don’t say starfish. [beat, clarifying] What do you fantasize about?”
[Slowly out]
Deth: “Don’t need to.”
He smiles briefly at the compliment.
[Slowly in]
Spike: “Come on, time to play. Tell me.”
[Slowly out]
Deth: [trying to focus] “I…[exhale]…think about sucking on you; nibbling and stroking your cock with my mouth; sucking you in as f…[slowly in]..ar as I can; feeling you get harder and harder until you come down my throat.”
[Slowly out]
She actually feels him harden a bit more at her words.
Spike: “Yeah, I like that. [Slowly in] What else?”
Deth: “I think about that night in the bar—behind the curtain. [slowly out] Only Wesley doesn’t show up and you make me come against the wall and I scream so loud that everyone looks, but I don’t c…[slowly in]...are. Everyone stares while you keep fucking me.”
Spike: “mmmmm. [slowly out] I like to make you come; I like it when you scream. [in] More.”
[Out]
Deth: “Sometimes I think about…[in]…that time you bit [out] me. The pain of your teeth [in] drowned out by the ecstasy in you.” [out]
At these words, Spike’s head starts to spin again, clouded by blood lust. He teeth are a mere inch from her neck; he could be drinking her in less than a second. No, no, no, no. She’s human, she’s fragile. He would need more time to get the necessary control. He starts thrusting faster to keep his mind from going there, focusing instead on the building pressure in his groin; the beautiful friction on his hard knob.
Deth: [sensing his battle] “Sorry. I just think about it. I don’t…[in, out, in, out]….ooooohh….”
Spike: [interrupting] “When you think about it, do you touch yourself, fuck yourself?”
Deth: “Sometimes.”
Spike: “How?”
Deth: “You’ve ruined it for me. Used to just use my fingers, but now I want more—more inside.”
Spike: “Guess we’ll have to get you some toys, then. Or maybe you can just stay ruined when I’m not there to fill you up.”
He picks up the pace even more; he has moved his hands down her back and is now gripping the curve of her hips as he pumps into her. She is starting to whimper; the talk swelling her; making her ache almost painfully. He is starting to gasp a bit, too, letting out puffs of air and short grunts and groans.
Spike: [between gasps] “Ever do it at the office?”
Deth: [almost embarrassed by the idea] “No. There’s no place….oh god, mmmm…private.”
Spike: “But that’s the fun of it, love. Here’s what I want. I want you to come at the office—sneak off to the loo or wait ‘till Percy’s passed out. Yeah, that’s it. I want you to be a good little girl and think about me and then fuck yourself under everyone’s noses.”
He bites onto her neck with his blunt, human teeth as if to steady himself, as he moves his left hand from her hip around to her front. He quickly finds her bulging clit and starts to wiggle his fingers side to side across the top as he continues to thrust steadily. The minute he touches her, he feels her temperature rise—it won’t be long. She is so wet and swollen, he has to exert some pressure to get the necessary friction. She’s panting loudly now, every breath punctuated with a puff of a whine, clawing at the pillow in front of her. Just as he feels her tighten around him, she grabs his hand and presses his fingers hard against her pelvic bone, as if to squeeze her orgasm downwards and outwards. The feel of her vaginal convulsions quickly sends him over the edge and he pushes himself into her as far as he can and then remains still as the contractions in his cock send his juices spurting into her center.
They lay like that for a while, until their breathing steadies. Once they are relaxed, she turns over to face him, smiling a bit sheepishly.
Deth: “Morning.”
They kiss.
Spike: “Think that deserved at least a good morning. Maybe even a great morning, or bloody fantastic morning.”
She just smiles, sleepily.
Deth: “You want some tea?”
Spike: “Thought you only drank coffee.”
Deth: [with a slight shrug] “Maybe I bought some tea.”
Spike: “Yeah? Well then. [beat] You’re not getting all serious on me now, are you?”
He’s mostly joking, but there’s a part of him that worries a bit—his chest tightens slightly at the thought he might hurt her.
Deth: [giving him a blank look] “I spent $4.00 on a box of tea.”
Spike: [incredulous] “$4.00? You got ripped off.”
She shakes her head and slips out of bed, into a robe and off to the kitchen to boil some water. When she gets back, he is leaning up on his elbow, looking a touch contemplative. She hands him a mug, keeping the one with coffee for herself, and sits on the edge of the bed. He takes a sip and then looks up at her, frowning slightly as if he is thinking about what he should say.
Spike: [shrugging, trying to be very casual] “’think it’s nice that you got tea. [He lets that hang there a moment, flashing her a warm glance. After a brief pause, he adds with the usual attitude,] But don’t expect me to go out and buy coffee and one of those bloody coffee-making contraptions. If you want coffee at my place, you’ll have to bring your own supplies. [adding] You could keep some there if you wanted. I don’t mind.”
She smirks at him and takes another sip of her coffee.
Spike: “So you were dreaming about starfish?”
Deth: “Not just starfish. Swimming in the ocean—underwater.”
Spike: [frowning] “Well that’s a bit disappointing, considering what your parts were up to at the time. Thought it’d be a bit more erotic, or at least amusingly awkward.”
Deth: [thinking about it] “It’s like when you’re dreaming as a kid and you have an orgasm—you don’t know what it is or why it happens—usually in the dream, you’re just doing something you love to do. It has nothing to do with sex.”
Spike: “Can’t remember. [Well, he does actually remember, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to admit that his first wet dream involved a barefoot, night-time foray into the local bookshop.] You know there is an ocean not too far from here. You should go—get one of those underwater masks or something.”
Deth: [Scrunching up her face in a concerned frown] “Fish, remember? Every other week, there’s a story about a Great White munching on some seals off this coast.”
Spike: “I could go with you. At night.”
Deth: [Giving him an ‘are you kidding’ look] “You really need to see Jaws. Besides, we wouldn’t be able to see anything in the dark. [contemplating something] Would you be all right under the water during the day? Would it be safe for a vampire?”
Spike: “Never really thought about it. Probably. Still, there’s the problem of getting in and getting out. Don’t fancy spending 12 hours under water—I’d get all pruney. [beat] But if you can find a way around that problem, I’d give it a go.”
Deth: “Yeah? That’s kinda sweet.”
Spike: “Nah. Just think it might be fun to take on a shark—‘bit of a challenge, that. Lots of teeth flaring about.”
She smiles, skeptically, puts down her coffee and gives him an appreciative peck on the cheek.
End scene.
**
Scene 2
The offices of Wolfram and Hart. Deth turns out of Wesley’s office, carrying a piece of paper with a list of books on it. Spike pops out of Angel’s office, looking annoyed as usual after his meetings with Gel-Vader (as he’s taken to calling Angel lately). His frown disappears when he sees Deth at the other end of the hall. He heads to cut her off.
Spike: “Working hard?”
Deth: [happy for the diversion] “Wesley’s got me running down to the archive room every other minute AND looking after Illyria, who’s been in a pisser of a mood tonight.”
Spike: “Does she have any other moods?”
Deth: [shrugging] “You’d be surprised.”
Spike: “How’s it coming with my little assignment? Pun intended.”
Deth: [blushing slightly] “No time.”
Spike: [shaking his head] “Lame. I get the feeling you’re not taking this very seriously.”
Deth: “Thought I wasn’t supposed to.”
He smiles at this. She is quick.
Spike: “Think it might be time for an alternate plan. I have a feeling that might be a very convenient little skirt you’re wearing.”
And with that, he moves in for a kiss, pressing her back against the wall. He reaches his hand down to the edge of her frayed, army green canvas skirt and is able to easily work his hand up it to feel her bare ass, which he grabs possessively. She breaks the kiss and pushes his hand away, looking around nervously.
Deth: [Trying to look stern and disapproving, she whispers.] “We’re right in the hallway.”
Spike: “Just testing the stretch factor—got to love the spandex revolution, don’t you?”
He smirks and grabs her hand, leading her to the closest maintenance closet he can find. They emerge a short time later. They kiss intensely for a moment, before Deth wriggles away from Spike’s embrace and rushes down the hallway, the paper she was holding now a bit crumpled. He stands there a moment, leaning against the wall just outside the door of the closet and lights up a cigarette. The “camera” pans to see Harmony across the room, holding an appointment book obviously on her way somewhere, but standing transfixed, frozen by what she just saw. She looks on the verge of tears, but then takes a breath, puts on a forced frown and stomps in the direction of Spike. On her way past, she stops and grabs the cigarette out of his mouth and tosses it aside angrily.
Harmony: “There’s no smoking in here! Public places. It’s the law.”
She stands there a moment frowning intently at him, trying and failing to not let on how upset she is. He is hoping she will just walk away, but she seems committed to standing there until he says something. He never knows what exactly to do with Harmony. She just doesn’t fit anywhere.
Spike: “Gonna rat me out to the boss-man? ‘Cause I’m sure it’ll be high on his list of priorities.”
Harmony: [Her voice shaking slightly, though she’s trying to sound stern.] “Maybe I will. There are, you know, policies and stuff. Memos.”
He shrugs, dispassionately and walks over to the elevator to press the down button. She tries to look as angry as she can, but can feel the tears starting to well up. She quickly turns away and stomps back to her desk, throwing the appointment book down. She sits for a moment, looking lost, her arms crossed in front of her. But then you can see an idea hit her. She makes a “hmph” sound and turns to her computer and starts determinedly typing.
**
Deth walks into the lab where Illyria is being “kept”, though in truth she can go wherever she wants and knows it. She is carrying a book and sets it down on one of the tables a few feet away. Illyria watches Deth as she enters the room. She sees Deth sit down, open the book and then appear to study it. After a moment, she cocks her head to the side and walks up to the table in her usual confrontational manner. Deth sees her approach out of the corner of her eye, but doesn’t look up, hoping that Illyria will get distracted and not bother her. All she wants to do is sit and enjoy the thought of him.
Illyria: “You pretend to study, but you do not.”
Deth looks up to find Illyria only a few inches away, staring down at her with penetrative eyes. She doesn’t usually mind speaking with Illyria, but right now her mind and body are swimming.
Deth: “I’ll get to it.”
Illyria: “Wesley is impatient. You may anger him. He may stop speaking.”
Deth thinks to herself, “She just can’t get off that subject.”
Deth: “It’s not urgent. Busy work until some meeting I’m supposed to go to.”
Illyria: [More studying] Your heart beats fast. You have blood in your cheeks. Your skin is moist. [Processing this information] Is this illness?”
Deth: [Smiling broadly as she inhales deeply at the thought of the actual cause.] “No.”
Illyria: “What is that you do with your face? It is disconcerting. [Reaching for a buried memory] A smile. [Leaning over, she grabs hold of Deth’s face by the chin, looking more closely] Is this happiness?”
Deth: [annoyed] “Let go.”
Illyria whips her hand away, then stares at it briefly as if it weren’t under her control.
Illyria: [defensively] “I had enough information. Your body practically sings. It is vile. Luckily this state is uncommon here.”
Deth rolls her eyes, good naturedly. Typical Illyria defense. She’s so transparent. Deth doesn’t respond, hoping Illyria will lose interest and go suck on a Petri dish or something. After a few more moments of penetrative staring.
Illyria: “Explain.”
Deth: “I thought you had enough information.”
Illyria: [Squinting her eyes in annoyance.] “I demand more. Explain why your body hums.”
Fine. If it will shut her up. Sigh.
Deth: “I just had sex. Sex is fun. [Realizing she may need to translate.] Sex—mating—can be very pleasurable. Must be the same with your species.”
Illyria processes this. Relating what she knows about her kind.
Illyria: “Mating is complex. It is a struggle, a battle. There is a drive to accomplish it and feeling of triumph when successful. It takes planning, ritual, time. You were only gone from this room briefly. Can it possibly be accomplished that fast?”
Deth: “It can. Or you can draw it out for more prolonged pleasure, though most men have their limits at about an hour or so.”
Illyria: “Pleasure. This is different. Your body responds now to the mention of it. But if you have finished, why does the response continue?”
Deth: “Oh, I’m definitely not finished. We mate continuously. [smiling] If we’re lucky.”
Illyria: [A scowl descends] “It is no wonder, then, that your species populates this dimension like vermin. Your mating is simple, quick, pleasurable and unlimited. [disgust] You must breed like maggots, laying your eggs in every corner of this disgusting world.”
Deth: “Hang on there, Smurfette. Before you go working yourself up into another tirade, sex/mating and breeding are two entirely different things.”
Illyria feels her rage build at this insignificant human calling her by that name. Only Wesley has called her Smurf. She should snap her neck for her insolence. But she doesn’t. She lets it pass, without even an admonishing word.
Illyria: “I do not understand.”
Deth: “We have sex all we want, but we only breed a couple of times, if that. [explaining] We have techniques, mechanisms to avoid producing offspring. Makes it more like recreation…bonding.”
Illyria: [After a moment] “I will observe next time.”
Deth: “Unlikely. I’ll mention it to Spike, but I don’t really think…”
Illyria: “Spike? He is your regular partner in this?”
Deth: “Yep.”
Illyria: “He is somewhat pleasing. I enjoy his attempts to fight me. He doesn’t stay down.”
Deth stifles a laugh.
Deth: [Out loud, but to herself] “So true. Speaking of which, I don’t actually need a mechanism anymore. Note to self: throw away pills. [pleased at her realization] Excellent.”
Illyria: [disgusted] “You intend to breed?”
Deth: “Nah. Human babies just cry and scream. [off of Illyria’s confused look] Different types can’t breed together. So, like, you and Wesley could mate to your hearts content and nothing would come of it—you’ve got different….structures.” [For lack of a better word.]
Illyria: [suddenly defensive] “Why would I want to mate with Wesley? He is foul like the rest of you. He is pathetic and weak. And his breath smells of intoxicant. [pause] Are you sure?”
Deth: [Thinking a moment; pulling the information from somewhere, she answers with complete confidence.] “Yes.” [Even though Illyria is inhabiting a human body, somehow she just knows it wouldn’t work.]
Just then, Wesley pokes his head into the lab. Illyria looks momentarily disconcerted and responds by smashing a shelf full of glassware on her way out the door.
Wesley: “What was that about?”
Deth: “The usual.”
Wes frowns, not really understanding what she means, but not of a mind to push for more.
Wesley: “The meeting is about to start. We should head upstairs. Did you get anything from that text?”
Deth: “Sorry, Illyria was being needy.”
He nods, understandingly. Deth stands up and they head in the direction of Angel’s office.
**
Angel is in his office, getting briefed by Gunn about the upcoming meeting.
Gunn: “His name is…well, you won’t be able to pronounce it anyway so never mind. Thing is, he’s the ringleader of a large coalition of demon clans called the Djandni. They’re mostly business types—they provide goods, services, loans, sacrificial animals, etc. to the demon community about town. Wolfram and Hart has handled many of their internal and external disputes, mainly involving money issues, damaged goods and the like. Their newly anointed leader is a Llyoobov demon—bit of an old-school mobster type from what I’ve been able to gather. We’ve brought him here to negotiate a new contract. We’re hoping to use his current conflict with the Quills to press him for some changes, giving us more oversight into his day-to-day activities.”
Angel: “So we can monitor what’s going where, to whom and why.”
Gunn: “Exactly. Should help us stay ahead of the game.”
Angel: “What are the chances he’ll sign?”
Gunn: “Hard to say. He refuses to speak English, so we’ve been working through an interpreter. He insisted on speaking to you in person before he makes any decisions.”
There’s a timid knock on the door and Harmony peeks her head in.
Harmony: “They’re waiting in the conference room. I just got them some goat’s urine like they asked, so you might want to give them a minute. It’s kinda stinky in there.”
Angel: “Thanks. [to Gunn] We’ll head over as soon as Wes gets here.”
Harmony: “Um, boss? [holding up a single piece of paper] Could you just sign this before you leave?”
Angel: “What is it?”
Harmony: “Just a memo. You know, office stuff.”
She skips over to his desk, hands him a pen and slips the paper in front of him, her hand obscuring most of the text.
Angel: [Irritated at the distraction] “Harmony, I can’t read it.”
Harmony: [Pulling her hand away, as if it were an accident] “You don’t really have to read it. It’s just a memo.”
He frowns at her, looks as if he’s about to sign and then glances at the subject line.
Angel: [reading] “Employee Dating Policy?”
Harmony: [acting casual] “Yuh huh. All the offices have one. Just thought it was about time we updated ours. Pretty standard.”
Angel: [Rolling his eyes in frustration.] “First of all, ‘affection’ as in ‘public displays of’ is spelled with a ‘t’, not an ‘s’; [frowning] I see 10 typos in the first paragraph. [reading] All cubicles, broom closets, elevators, coffins and designated snack room areas are hereby off limits to sexual activity of any kind, punishable by electric shock for first-time offenders and castration for any second offenses. Harmony, what IS this?
Harmony: [defensive] “Guess I was a little upset when I typed it up. I’ll fix the typos.”
Angel: “Don’t waste my time.”
He crumples up the paper and tosses it in the trash. Harmony starts to pout and her little chin starts to quiver as the tears well up. She glances through the glass at Deth approaching. She looks back, pleading to Angel.
Harmony: “Can’t you just make them stop? Please?”
Damn, he’s a sucker for a crying blonde; yes, even Harmony. He finds himself muttering:
Angel: “I’ll mention it.”
She smiles cheerfully and bubbles out of the room, giving Deth a smug once-over on her way out.
Wesley: “I thought it might be useful for Deth to sit in on the meeting. She might be able to pick up on something the translator misses.”
Angel: “Fine. Let’s go.”
As they file out the door, Deth decides to comment to no one in particular:
Deth: “This has a very ‘Next Generation’ feel to it. Only with different hair issues. Don’t know how I feel about that.”
Everyone else is too focused to respond. They arrive in the conference room. It’s Angel, Gunn, Wes, the translator, two of the ringleader’s bodyguards and the Llyoobov demon. Everyone but the bodyguards sit at a long table. Deth sits next to Angel, across from and Wes and Gunn. Introductions, pleasantries, discussion of details ensue. Deth is still rather distracted and half listens. She recalls all she can about the Llyoobov, which isn’t much and then lets her mind wander to more pleasant things. But somewhere through her distracted haze, she hears something that makes her snap back into focus. She looks quickly over to the Llyoobov, who she has decided to think of simply as “Lou” and finds him looking at her. He moves his gaze quickly away and says something to the interpreter.
Interpreter: “Everything seems in order, here. We’ll be happy to sign the necessary papers so long as you agree to deliver what we discussed.”
Angel: [Getting a nod from Gunn] “My colleagues can make the necessary arrangements. It’ll just take a phone call.”
Lou via Interpreter: “We’d prefer to wait until the call is made.”
Angel: “Sounds reasonable.”
He nods back to Gunn, who starts to pull out a phone.
Deth tries to kick Angel under the table, but instead kicks the table leg. Ouch. Wanting to prevent the call, but knowing not to openly object, she frantically tries to think of a cunning distraction. Gunn’s dialing and she can’t think of anything else, so she just starts “casually” rocking back and forth in her chair (like the kids do. ahem) until she finally leans back far enough that it falls over with a crash. They all look around awkwardly for a moment.
Deth: [Annoyed at the lack of response, she says, loudly:] “Ow.”
Angel looks over at Wesley, who shrugs.
Lou/Interpreter: “Is the girl alright?”
Finally, Angel leans down, so his head is beneath the table.
Angel: [in a whisper] “What are you doing?”
Deth: [She waves him closer, then whispers] “He has no intention of following through with this—he’s got other reasons for being here. Call him out.”
Angel nods.
Angel: “Uh, yeah. I think maybe she should go down to the infirmary—she hit her head.”
Just then she realizes she DID hit her head and it really hurt. Ow. Angel gives Wes a not so subtle eye signal.
Wesley: “Yes, why don’t you and Gunn bring her outside—I’ll call someone to meet you in the hall.”
Angel lifts her up and they walk to the door. Gunn is still looking confused, but the minute they reach the door, Angel says.
Angel: “The deal’s off. She thinks it’s a trick.”
Gunn: “Right. Time to renegotiate.”
After leaving Deth outside, they return to the room and the discussion begins again. They’re careful not to accuse him outright, but purposefully stall the negotiations to make it clear they know something is up. After a few minutes, one of Lou’s bodyguards whispers something in his ear.
Lou/Interpreter: [in response] “I’m afraid I need to take my leave. I’m quite confident we can work something out that will be mutually beneficial. I’m having a little soiree Friday evening. Perhaps as a gesture of goodwill, you could send a representative to attend. As an incentive, I will make a few moments of my time available during the event to iron out some more details of our agreement.”
Wesley gives Angel an approving nod. His research has shown that this sort of thing is considered customary in negotiations with the Llyoobov—they’re actually rather social creatures.
Angel: “That won’t be a problem. Gunn has the best knowledge of the current contract and can bring the appropriate paper work.”
Lou/Interpreter: [Shaking his head] “You understand, we’re not terribly fond of lawyers. In a social setting.”
Angel: “Gunn’s not exactly a real lawyer. I mean, he never actually went to law school or anything.”
Gunn: [slightly offended] “Hey”
Angel: “Not the time to argue the point.”
Gunn: “Definitely not a lawyer, me. Never even seen the Bar exam.”
Lou/Interpreter: “What about the girl? Assuming her head has healed adequately.”
Confused/surprised looks all around.
Wesley: “She doesn’t have the necessary experience with this sort of negotiation. She’s a new addition to the firm.”
Lou gets up to leave, but says one more thing to the interpreter.
Lou/Interpreter: “We look forward to seeing the girl on Friday evening. I’ll have my own interpreter, should we need one. All the details are on the invitation.”
He hands an envelop to Angel and exits with a short bow, his “men” following. After they leave, there is a moment of stunned silence.
Gunn: “Didn’t see that coming.”
Angel: “Can we do that?”
Wesley: “I suppose. If she were willing. I doubt she’d be in any danger for reasons we’ve already discussed.”
Gunn: “I can bring her up to speed on some of the bigger things by Friday. And I could be waiting by the phone if she had any questions.”
Angel: “But why her?”
Wesley: “Perhaps he simply sees her as less of a threat.”
Angel: “Or easier to manipulate. [beat] Talk to her. We’ve got a few days to figure this out.”
**
Scene 3
Spike’s apartment. Spike is lying on the couch, his head propped up on some pillows. We only see him from the chest up; he doesn’t have a shirt on. His eyes are closed, but active under the lids. Periodically, he tenses the muscles in his chest and opens his mouth slightly, allowing a breathy grunt to escape; then a fleeting snarl, a frown, then back to a relaxed half smile. We hear a higher pitched moan coming from below and we pan back enough to see the top of Deth’s head, bobbing up and down just below his belly button, her face and actions obscured by her hair. Pan back further to see her body nestled between his legs, her top half bare, her bottom half still in jeans, his pants pulled down around his ankles.
Spike: “Yeah, that’s good. Mmmmm. God. [He lifts his head and shoulders slightly and opens his eyes] I want to see you.”
She whisks her hair out of the way with her hand, so he can see what she is doing. She looks up at him while she pulls her mouth up over the top and then slides her lips down the side of his entire length, using a hand to support him from the other side. She changes direction, using her lips to nibble the taught skin of his shaft until she reaches the tip, where she slides her tongue across the top, licking the drop of precum that has gathered since she last had him deep in her mouth. She uses her hand to pull his foreskin down just over the tip, allowing her tongue direct access to his most sensitive area. He gasps at the first stroke of her tongue and lets his head fall back again.
Spike: “Aww, fuck.”
After a few quick strokes, she sucks him back inside her mouth, covering as much of his long cock as she can and then wrapping her hand around the rest. She sets a rhythm, adjusting the suction and speed to maximize his whimpers and groans. Hearing the sounds he makes erases any thoughts of sore jaws or tired cheeks.
Spike lays entirely passive underneath her, curbing even the slightest urge to thrust into her deliciously welcoming mouth. He doesn’t want anything to do with it—she will make him groan, whimper, whine, gasp, come in galloping spurts. He will only let it happen. Such freedom in this. His mind washed clean of any responsibility, he lies there able to enjoy every tingle, every fired nerve. He feel himself stiffen more, preparing for the release. He delights in her groan when she notices the change. In response, she steadies and quickens her strokes. Oh, he’s close.
Spike: “ahhhh…fffff…mmmggghhha. You’re gonna make me come, baby. That naughty little mouth of yours….Uuhhhagahhh….Too much….fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuck.”
Then it is just a series of pants and growls and low whines until he reaches down to still her head as he pumps what feels like a gallon down the back of her throat. Until he relaxes back, he is unaware that every muscle in his body had tensed in preparation for that orgasm. He is now making a sound resembling something between a purr and a low laugh. She holds him in her mouth until she feels his body go limp—she then gently relaxes the suction and slides her mouth off, resting his slowly softening penis against the skin of his belly. She plants a short, affectionate kiss on it before sitting up, her legs draped over his. She reaches for a half empty beer on the coffee table and takes a quick swig as she waits for Spike to regain some semblance of consciousness. He pulls his knees up a bit and she rests her hand on a kneecap.
Spike: “Mmmm. Have to say, after giving it some serious thought, I think you’re rather gifted. Screw the demon psychic nonsense; if the world could be saved by that, you’d be the one to do it.”
She smiles at the compliment and leans over to kiss his knee before reaching over to the floor to fish for her bra. She finds it and starts to pull it around herself to fasten the back clasp.
Spike: [watching her, confused] “What are you doing?”
Deth: “I have to go.”
Spike: [shocked] “What? But you’re soaking. Get your knickers off, it’s your turn.”
Deth: “No turn for me tonight. I have to go. [frowning down at the bra hooks] This is the second bra you’ve broken—they’re not cheap.”
Spike: “You’re the one buying the fancy ones lately—they’re pretty, but not up to vampire standards of durability. What happened to the plain ones you used to have?”
She shrugs, not wanting to admit that she had switched because she thought he might like the more feminine variety. She stuffs the bra in her bag and starts to put her shirt on. Spike interferes, pulling it back over her head and reaching around to take a breast in each hand and pull her towards him. She peels his hands off and wiggles away.
Deth: [admonishing] “Spike. [beat, explaining] It’s just bad timing.”
Spike: [Not getting it] “What?”
Deth: [Giving him a look as she repeats herself.] “Bad timing. I’m just going to call a cab.”
Spike: “What are you on about? D’you have to work?”
Deth: “Come on, Spike. Think about it. [She’s standing up now, holding her phone, preparing to dial] You know, those annoying commercials with girls doing gymnastics and swimming and cavorting on the beech. [Getting exasperated by his denseness.] Haven’t you had a human girlfriend before?”
Just as she finishes saying this, she is hit with a wave a pain strong enough to make her double over slightly and rest her hand on the counter for support. The source isn’t physical—the feeling not her own. It takes her breath away and for the first time ever, she knows what it is like to want to cry. Confused, she looks over at Spike. He is staring blankly across the room, frozen in thought. She suddenly realizes she is not breathing and quickly inhales. So much hurt and that was only a breeze of it. Her chests tightens at the thought that she’s responsible for making him feel that.
Deth: [Are these tears forming? She can’t stop herself from whispering,] “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” [God, who was she?]
He doesn’t react to her words or perhaps doesn’t hear them. In a second, the pain dissipates as quickly as it hit and they’re back in the middle of their conversation as if nothing had happened.
Spike: “Oh, right. That kind of bad timing. I don’t really mind, honestly.”
Deth: “Well that’s nice, but it doesn’t actually have anything to do with you. I need to take a pain pill and get in bed with a nice heating pad.”
Spike: [pouting] “But I’ll be lonely.”
The last thing he wants is to be alone with his thoughts. Not after the crack, the opening, the water streaming through. He wants to be selfish and keep her here to distract him. He reaches over to the coffee table for the beer bottle and downs the remains.
Deth: “You’ll manage. [Then seeing his puppy dog eyes staring at her. Sigh.] Guess I could stay a little while if you want.”
He smiles, but then shakes his head.
Spike: “Go. I’m a big boy—I can spend one night alone.”
Deth: “Maybe a couple nights.”
He scrunches up his face in disappointment. She successfully calls a cab and then sits on the arm of the couch to wait. He watches her for a few minutes, thinking.
Spike: [slightly pensive] “You’re too good to me.”
Deth: “Not too good.”
Spike: “You’re always doing nice things.”
Deth: “You do your fair share.”
He frowns slightly. After a few more moments of silence:
Spike: “’s just I don’t want to…”
He is interrupted by a honk from the cab waiting outside. She gets up to go.
Deth: [As she’s leaving] “It’s Ok. Call me tomorrow.”
After she leaves, he stands up and grabs another beer out of the fridge. He closes the door a bit too roughly, frowning to nowhere in particular.
***
tbc...