Scene 16
Angel Investigations. Cordelia is on a computer near the front desk. Angel comes downstairs, carrying his coat.
Angel: “You about ready to go?”
Cordelia: “Yep, just confirming that she hasn’t swapped flights on us or anything. This security access thingy Gunn’s hacker friend hooked us up with sure comes in handy. You sure you want to do this?”
Angel: “I need to see her—make sure she’s okay.”
Cordelia: “And that’s all? [He shrugs. She looks back to the computer screen.] That’s odd.”
Angel: “What?”
Cordelia: “Now it says she’s checking in to LAX, not Sunnydale and...”
Angel: “And what?”
Cordelia: [look of concern] “She’s not flying alone—she bought another ticket.”
Angel: “Can you get a name?”
Cordelia: “Let’s see.” [She presses a few buttons. She lets out a little laugh.]
**
The same time, in the car with Miranda and Spike on their way to the airport. Miranda is driving. Spike is looking at the documents in the folder that Miranda had made by W&H. He pulls out the passport and opens it.
Spike: “Ugh, stop the car.”
Miranda: “What for?”
Spike: [snarky] “William S. Heathcliff?”
Miranda: [defensive] “I had maybe two minutes to come up with a name AND I had a whole host of other things on my mind at the time. I was in an evil law firm, for goodness sake.”
Spike: “Aw, but Heathcliff? That’s bloody awful. Here’s a thought—maybe you could’ve used my real pre-vamp name—wouldn’t have taken much time to come up with that.”
Miranda: “I couldn’t remember it.”
Spike: “Bollocks. Besides, you sure as hell could’ve come up with something that doesn’t make me sound like such a poofter.”
Miranda: “Like what?”
Spike: “I don’t know. Like ‘Vicious’ or ‘Rotten’ or..."
Miranda: “You’re not a Sex Pistol, Spike.”
Spike: “I’m just saying, you could’ve put a bit more thought into it.”
Miranda: “Come on, it’s funny. I’m dying to hear someone call you ‘Mr. Heathcliff’. [She starts giggling.]
Spike: “You did it on purpose. [playfully] You really are evil.”
Miranda: [Can’t stop herself from laughing] “It’s a lovely name. Besides, you’d like the real Heathcliff from the Bronte novel—he was a right cruel bastard; in the best possible way, of course.”
Spike: [skeptical] “Yeah?”
Miranda: “I’ll tell you the story sometime—maybe I’ll even read it to you.” [He just shakes his head.]
Spike: [changing the subject] “So how does this whole flying business work anyway?”
Miranda: “Have you never been on a plane?”
Spike: “Oh, I’ve been on one—just not in the passenger cabin.”
Miranda: “Well, we get there, check in—they’ll check your passport and we’ll have to hope no one at W&H decided to take the time to mess with the records. Best to let me do the talking. Then we sit in the airport for a couple of hours before they let us on the plane—we can have drinks; heaven forbid we sober up. Once we get on the plane, you’re going to have to be on your best behavior. I mean it, now. Just act like a normal passenger and be nice to the cabin crew. People tend to panic easily when they’re in a confined space 30,000 feet above the ground. And we certainly don’t want to get arrested on arrival or anything. Oh, and there’s no smoking.”
Spike: “Stop the car.”
Miranda: “Surely you can make it 9 hours without a fag.”
Spike: [shock] “Nine hours? Stop the car.”
Miranda: “You’ll be fine. If you’re any bit as exhausted as I am, you’ll sleep the whole way there. And they’ve got films and such to watch. And music. Oh, and complimentary drinks.”
Spike: “What about beds?”
Miranda: [smiling at the implication] “No beds, I’m afraid. Not in business class, anyway.”
Spike: [jokingly/with a smile this time] “Stop the car.”
She just rolls her eyes slightly, smirking, and keeps driving.
**
Sometime later at the airport. Angel and Cordelia arrive at LAX. They walk up to the airline counter and pretend to be police detectives—they ask to know if Miranda and her companion have checked in. The woman is a bit dubious (middle-aged; stern looking), but checks the computer and confirms that they have checked in.
Angel: “Did you notice anything unusual about them? Any suspicious behavior?”
Cordelia: “What my partner here is trying to get at is that we have reason to suspect that Ms. Sumner may not be traveling willingly—that this may be a kind of kidnapping situation.”
[Sidebar: Angel had called Buffy to have a look around Miranda’s house after they’d found out about the change of plans. Buffy reported back that the first floor had been trashed and that there was blood and broken glass in the livingroom.]
Check-in Person #1: “I honestly don’t recall them at all.”
Angel: “She’s about this tall, medium-length reddish brown hair, English accent, pretty—she’s got a tattoo on her left wrist.”
CIP#1: “We’ve been very busy this afternoon and I’ve checked in 50 or more people in the last hour and a half. I just don’t remember. Now if you wouldn’t mind, I’ve got customers waiting.”
Angel: [frustrated frown] “Thanks for your time” [They turn to go]
CIP#2: [next counter over; she’s young and hip looking]: “I remember them. Sorry, couldn’t help but overhear. English accent, tattoo—checked in about 20 minutes ago. Cute couple.” [CIP#1 flashes her an annoyed look—she’s frustrated at the delay.]
Cordelia: “Can you describe the guy she was with?”
CIP#2: [She laughs a bit and smiles broadly] “Actually, I remember him more than her—s’why I took notice. Slender, blonde, blue eyes—a serious hottie with a bit of an attitude and a wicked cool accent.”
Cordelia: [to Angel] “Definitely Spike.”
Angel: [pouty] “Hottie? I don’t know if I’d...”
Cordelia: [to the girl] “How did they act?”
CIP#2: “They were pretty cute—seemed happy enough; relaxed. They were both a bit beat up—she more than him. Had a few cuts on her face and she looked kind of stiff, like she had more bandages under her clothes.”
Angel: “What gate?”
CIP#2: “57”
Cordelia: “Thanks for your help.”
Angel leads the way, looking very grumpy.
**
Miranda and Spike are sitting at a bar table having a drink in one of the bars near their departure gate. Despite what the check-in girl said, there’s still a feeling of hesitancy between them. They haven’t spoken about anything but the flight details—small talk, basically. Its partly because they’re both completely exhausted/spent; partly because being together is the last thing either of them expected and neither quite know how to act. In some ways, Miranda worries that it’s all just a dream and that if she asks too many questions it might all evaporate—everything is still pretty hazy. So they sip their drinks and make pleasant chit-chat. There’s a page over the PA system for Miranda, telling her to go to the nearest white courtesy phone. She’s a bit dubious, but it could have something to do with their flight or more likely, their paperwork, so she tells Spike to wait there and she goes to find the phone. She slowly makes her way in the right direction with her drink in hand and eventually sees the line of phones around a corner to the side of the terminal. She heads towards them, but just as she’s close enough to pick up the receiver, Angel appears from around the corner. She doesn’t actually look terribly shocked to see him—or maybe she’s too tired to be shocked by anything at this point. He stops dead when he sees her. She stands facing him, about 6 feet away with an almost bored look of “well?”—She casually takes a sip from her drink. You can tell he wants to come closer, but something about her demeanor stops him. He doesn’t say anything for a moment.
Miranda: “Angel. [figuring it out] Ah, another ruse. What a surprise. [Pause—he is still not actually forming words] Are we going to stand here all day, or did you want something? I’ve got a plane to catch.”
Angel: [a bit thrown by her casual attitude] “I wanted to make sure you were Ok. You didn’t sound so good on the phone last time.”
Miranda: [frowning, as if trying to remember] “Oh that. Yeah, I suppose I was a bit out-of-sorts. I’m fine now, so you can run along.”
Angel: “Are you still having the dreams?”
Miranda: “Lindsey found me some wonderful pills that prevent dreaming. Don’t know whether sleep without dreaming can be considered sleep, but a couple of nights of that and I felt better. Haven’t slept since then, though, so I guess I’ll find out on the plane.” [She takes another sip of her drink.]
Angel: “You should know that the L.A. police may be looking for you soon—Kate showed me some pictures from surveillance cameras at the LA Museum of Art.”
Miranda: [laugh] “Those pieces are funding this trip. Lindsey was a peach and took care of that for me as well.”
Angel: “Men got hurt—don’t you care?”
Miranda: “Please. Security guards and cops—they know what they’re signing up for. And it’s not like I caused any permanent damage.”
Angel: “And the girl?”
Miranda: “An Immortal. She was just moments away from death and that would’ve been it, so I made her. Granted, I could have been more discrete with that one—a bit impulsive on my part. Lately I just can’t seem to censor myself. [beat] Anything else, dad?”
Angel: [looking hurt] “You don’t have to leave.”
Miranda: “And what’s the alternative?”
Angel: “You’re a part of the team. You could stay—we’d work something out.”
Miranda: [Actually bursts out laughing—v. hurtful] “That’s really funny. Oh, it wasn’t meant to be a joke? I see. Honestly, I can think of nothing worse than spending my days moping around that bloody monastery you call a hotel, doing my best to make sure that nobody has too much fun. And let me guess, we could be best friends and share in the eternal misery of it all. No thank you. I am SO over that phase.”
Angel: [floored by her callousness] “Phase? Why are you acting like this? I’m just trying to make things better.”
Miranda: “For me, or for you, because it’s not entirely clear.”
Angel: “For both of us.”
At this point, he takes a few steps forward. She turns to walk away, and he grabs her arm. She abruptly pulls away, but doesn’t move any further. There’s a look of surprise on her face, as if she’s suddenly realized something. She starts laughing again, almost manically, and is shaking her head.
Angel: “You’re drunk.”
Miranda: [Light-hearted, almost pitying him for not getting it] “Oh, Angel. I’ve been drunk for weeks. You know, I’m suddenly a bit warm.”
She takes off one of her shirts (she’s wearing a cotton blouse over a tank top; she takes off the blouse). This reveals the whole of her left arm. The chain-link tattoo that used to just wrap around her wrist a couple of times, now loosely winds up her arm, past her elbow and at her upper arm, wraps around three or four times and now the links are much bigger (they seem to get bigger as they go up her arm).
Angel: [Seeing the tattoo, he gets a look of horror on his face] “What have you done?”
Miranda: “What, these old things? They’re not mine, luv. Even at my worst, I couldn’t rack up that kind of carnage in a fortnight. No, these are all yours.”
Angel: [horror/confusion] “What?”
Miranda: [Looking at her own arm. Flippant.] “Good lord, you must’ve been busy. My question is, are the big ones worth more? Guess we’ll have to see.”
Angel: “I...I don’t understand.”
Miranda: [still very light-hearted in tone] “Oh, right. Exposition time, is it? I didn’t know until just now, when you touched me. Then it all came flooding in. I’ll tell you what, They’ve got a sense of humor. I can picture them up there now, laughing their bloody arses off. Let’s see. You remember talking to a priest? Something about a debt? Yes, well it seems that in order for you to ever be able to repay it enough for them to do you a favor, such as removing the ‘happiness’ clause, it had to be lightened a bit. So they decided we’d split the difference and I got half, or thereabouts. Apparently it’s a thing I do. One thing I will say is thank goodness I’m immortal, cause it will take some time to get rid of these (referring to the links on the tattoo). Who knew they’d be so literal and go with my little recording scheme. Hm, I wonder if they’ll disappear on their own now—I’ll be happy to do away with the acid bit. Always seemed so very self flagellation-y. Anyway, what this all means is that you’re within striking distance of having your soul for good. Apparently when the time comes, you’ll need something from me to seal the deal. On the off chance that I don’t make it that far, they decided to hedge their bets and go ahead and take it from me now. Don’t know quite how that all works—I was under the impression that you either had a soul or you didn’t, but they seem to have taken just a piece of mine. Doesn’t make much sense, but these things rarely do—mysterious ways and all that. In any event, I’d hang on to the pendant I gave you, that’s for sure. [figuring something else out] Ah...and the dreams. They’re not dreams at all—they’re your memories, corresponding to these (pointing to the links). [Looking upwards, as if speaking to TPTB] Nice touch. Oh, but the kicker is that they’ve banished me—or maybe it was just an unavoidable consequence—Still, I can’t go into churches anymore. It’s like I’m a bloody vampire or something—invisible walls and such. Guess I’ll have to find other places to hide when I’m not up for a fight. Hm. Maybe it’s only catholic churches—I did do a bit of damage to St. Michaels afterall. I’ll have to look into it. Anyway, it’s all very ‘Greek tragedy’, don’t you think? Very Mount Olympus. Is it the Fates or the Furies who came up with this sort of thing back in the day?”
Up to this point, she’s been just talking and not really paying attention to Angel’s reaction—it’s like she’s talking to herself, since she’s just figured out what’s going on as well. Now that she’s finished, she looks at Angel. He looks beaten down—all kinds of angst and horror and guilt on his face.
Angel: [pulling something out of his pocket—it’s a handkerchief containing the cross pendant] “Take it back. I don’t deserve it.”
Miranda: [sigh and eye roll] “Ech, here we go. You deserve it because I say you deserve it and that’s all there is to it. Now just go and be good and you can keep your sodding soul.”
Angel: “No. It’s too much—you shouldn’t have to pay for what I’ve done.”
Miranda: [waving it off] “Oh, it’s what I do. Apparently. And it was probably all part of the “big plan” or some such. You’re the hero—they need you. Beside, this gives you a whole new reason to mope and wallow in guilt and play the angst ridden dark avenger.” [She laughs.]
Angel: “No. I won’t accept it. Stay here and we’ll figure out a way to reverse it.”
Miranda: [Looking very annoyed, she takes a deep breath and mutters under her breath “bloody hell”. She sets her drink down, pauses for a moment as if she has to concentrate very hard on something. She takes another deep breath and then steps closer to him. She looks him in the eye—now without ‘tude. In a soft, caring voice.] “Angel. This was my choice. My gift. It’s what they hoped would happen. Take it. Please. Else it was all for nothing. [She kisses him on the cheek and then whispers in his ear] Despite everything, I’d do it again. [quick smile] I think. No, I would.”
She steps away and grabs her drink, downing the rest of it. She puts her shirt back on and is quickly back in ‘tude mode.
Angel: [still looking utterly miserable] “What will you do?”
Miranda: “The plan was to go to Europe and show those old Immortal bastards that I’m not afraid of them. Why wait for them to come to me, right? I’ve been hiding my whole life. Maybe it’s about time to jump directly into the fray and see what happens. [shrugs] We’ve all got to go sometime. Maybe sooner’s better than later.”
Angel: [Not what he wanted to hear] “And Spike?” [Said with palpable distaste.]
Miranda: “Now THAT was completely unexpected. Never thought in a million years he’d take me back. The man is a fucking saint to give me another chance.”
Angel: “So what’s with all the cuts and bruises—Buffy said your place was trashed.”
Miranda: [She winces at the mention of Buffy’s name.] “He needed to work through some of his anger—thought it would do him a bit of good to have the opportunity to throw a few punches.”
Angel: [Shaking his head in disgust] “Don’t go.”
Miranda: “I thought we’d covered this. Even you have to admit that it’s better that he’s with me. [thinking] Yes, it changes my outlook considerably. [beat] Goodbye, Angel. Thanks for stopping by. [laughing] It was enlightening.”
She turns and starts walking away. Angel calls after her, but she just lifts her arm to wave him off. He looks miserable.
**
She comes back to the bar. Spike stands when she gets close to the table.
Spike: “I think they’re calling our flight. Guess it’s time to climb on board the bloody smoke-less flying machine.”
She doesn’t say anything, but steps up to him and leans in to kiss him on the lips. It’s a gentle, but tasty kiss.
Spike: [honestly surprised] “What was that for?”
Miranda: “Just wanted to see if you’d let me.” [He smiles, but then fakes stern.]
Spike: “Don’t get cocky—I could still say no at any time. I still hate you, remember?”
She just nods—with small smile. She grabs her bag from the chair and they head towards the gate. Next view is of them actually getting on the plane, walking down the rows of seats.
Spike: “So what was the call about?”
Miranda: “No call. It was Angel.”
Spike: [looking visibly surprised/tense] “What did he want?”
They’ve now found their seats and are putting their things away.
Miranda: “He wanted me to stay in L.A. [beat] With him.”
Spike: [Confused frown—he’d pretty much resigned himself to the idea that Angel had broken up with Miranda and that’s why she was back] “What did you say?”
Miranda: “Do you want the long version or the short version?”
Spike: “Short.”
Miranda: “No, no and no. He asked three times.”
Spike: [seriously confused] “Then why...??”
Miranda: “Let’s not talk about that now, alright? Someday I’ll tell you everything. Just not now.” [He nods.]
They spend a few minutes settling in for the flight.
Miranda: “I haven’t had anything to eat in quite some time. They’ll have food on the flight—I’ll take yours and mine and by the time we get there, I’ll be strong enough for you to feed. [anticipating] I know, I know, it’s not supposed to be about food, but we don’t have any blood with us and I’m going to need some serious rest before I’m ready to go out and track some down.”
Spike: [frowning] “No.”
Miranda: [surprised/incredulous] “No?”
Spike: “I’ll be fine.”
Miranda: “Your stomach is growling already, I don’t think you’ll be fine for another two days.”
Spike: [shrugging] “I just don’t want to do it, is all.”
Miranda: [Figuring it out—he’s dwelling on what happened in L.A., when she made such a big deal about his wanting her only for her blood and its affects.] “Oh, Spike, it was never about the biting. Honestly.”
Spike: “I don’t need it. I’m fine without it. I just don’t want you to think...”
Miranda: “I don’t. Trust me. It wasn’t about that. Besides, I’ll probably recover [from the biting] much more quickly now—I managed to kill a very powerful Immortal when I was away.”
Spike: “Probably? How is it you don’t know?” [He’d thought Angel would have bit her.]
Miranda: “Oh. Uh, that’s not something we [she and Angel] ever regularly...did.”
Spike: [Looking downright cheery at this bit of news. The idea of it had really bothered him.] “Oh. Well then. So were there, uh, other things you didn’t do?”
Miranda: [understanding the implication] “Well, we did THAT.”
Spike: [disappointed, but not surprised] “Oh.”
Miranda: “But it wasn’t the same. I mean, with Angel it was all rather...perfunctory. You know—get in, get out, have the minimal amount of fun possible. I mean, heaven forbid you enjoy it too much and want to do it again—‘cause that would be wrong.”
Spike: [He smiles a bit. Then decides to come clean.] “I didn’t shag Buffy. I mean, maybe I coulda done with a bit more time and effort, but...”
Miranda: [big smile/relief] “Oh, thank God. [beat] Darla?”
Spike: “ooh. Yeah, we fooled around a bit. But she was all about directing every little detail: Do this, do that. To the right, to the left; foot here, hand there—much too controlling for my taste. [beat] And I guess I sorta shagged half of Rio trying to get you out of my mind, but honestly, most people are just crap in the sack. If there’s no chemistry, it’s all pretty much mechanical.”
Miranda: [Trying not to think too much about the ‘half of Rio’ comment] “That’s something we did very well.”
Spike: “Oh yeah. We were bloody brilliant—it was an art.”
Miranda: “Could’ve sold tickets.”
Spike: “Damn straight—bloody porn stars look like amateurs compared to us.”
Miranda: “I know I’VE never seen a video that measured...up.”
Spike: “We’d keep it going for days, no worries.”
Miranda: “We could teach a bloody class—Fucking 101.”
They’re both suddenly very horny. Spike grabs a passing flight attendant.
Spike: [to the FA] “How long is this flight?”
FA: “Nine hours, sir.”
Spike: “Aw, bugger that.”
Miranda: “I think we’re going to need a drink...or ten.”
Scene 17
Scotland. Flashes of them getting their bags and then making their way to the hotel in a taxi—they barely speak. They both look utterly exhausted and bleary eyed. Next shot is of them coming into their room and throwing Miranda’s bags in a corner.
Miranda: “I don’t think I’ve ever been so knackered—I might actually have been asleep standing up for a moment when we were checking in.”
Spike: [agreeing] “I quite fancy a fag, but it seems too much work.”
Miranda: “I suppose we should get some rest—figure things out later.”
Spike: “Yeah, guess so.”
They’re standing a couple of feet from the bed and they both look over at it wearily as if even taking the two steps to get to it is too much to ask. They don’t move. They glance back over at each other and then shift awkwardly—eyes darting around. They haven’t quite set the rules—it’s not entirely clear at this point whether they’re back to normal or not, despite their banter on the plane. Miranda thinks about reaching for her bag to find something to sleep in, but then hesitates. She’s wondering if she should get undressed right there or if she should go into the bathroom. Spike, of course, doesn’t actually have anything to sleep in and even he finds himself wondering if he should just get naked as usual. He frowns. Because they’re so tired, neither can make a decision and they’re simply stalled there in the middle of the room. After what seems like hours of awkward glances and shifting, Spike is the first to speak.
Spike: “This is kind of new, innit?”
They’ve never actually been awkward/uncomfortable with each other before—ever.
Miranda: [nervous laugh] “Completely and utterly unlike us. I feel like I’m on a first date or something, only our first date was much easier.”
Spike: [pensive/serious] “I think we should do it.”
Miranda: “And by ‘it’, you mean...”
Spike: [still very serious] “Fuck. I think we should fuck.”
Miranda: “Yeah?” [Genuinely surprised—she didn’t think it was an option in their current state.]
Spike: [trying to be logical] “The thing is, if we don’t then there’s all this awkward confusion about sleeping and clothes and touching and lord knows we’re not in a state to talk about all that nonsense. But if we shag, it’s all pretty straightforward—clothes off, fucking, then sleeping—touching before and after pretty much part of the package.”
Miranda: “Makes sense. [frowning slightly] I suppose I should get in the shower.”
Spike: [discouraging her] “I wasn’t thinking anything fancy. Quick and dirty. Just the basics to, uh, seal the deal.”
She’s not sure whether it was the ‘dirty’ or the ‘seal the deal’ that made her knees get all wobbly, but whichever, her body was now aching in familiar places. Suddenly she can’t conceive of how she considered letting a trifle such as complete physical and mental exhaustion get in the way of a little ‘quick and dirty’ with Spike. Surely there’s a reserve of energy somewhere. Yep, there it is. Won’t last long, so lets skip the foreplay. She finds herself calculating exactly how long it will take for them to strip off their clothes and then realizes that neither of them has actually moved yet and why is she wasting her time thinking at a time like this?!! Over these same few seconds, Spike sees the flush in her cheeks, senses her heart beating faster and more erratically and knows she likes his plan. If he had the mental energy, he’d probably be thinking about how he never thought he’d have her again—never see that wonderful flush in her cheeks, never feel her warmth underneath him. How he’d convinced himself that he could go on without her—find a replacement. But here they are. Seeing her, knowing that she’s his again, he can’t imagine what a fool he'd been to believe any of that bullshit. But his mind isn’t that articulate at the moment—he just sees her and wants her and hopes to God that the gallons of liquor he’s consumed over the past couple of days along with the lack of blood and sleep won’t interfere with his ability to seal the deal. He smiles, feeling his body respond to the sight of her arousal. No worries. They move together into a kiss. He’s pushing her backwards toward the bed as they both peel off their clothes. Though in their minds, it’s a mad frenzy, they’re actually moving somewhat slowly—as fast as their tired limbs will allow. She’d forgotten what it felt like to be this frantic with desire. It’s like she’s just woken up from a dream. The one thing she wouldn’t let herself do once she decided to stay in L.A. was fantasize about Spike—that was entirely off limits and she closed her mind to it. She did her best to banish him—it was far easier to bury the physical memories than the rest of it. She had felt desire for Angel at times—heck, he was an attractive man—she’d even convinced herself that their relationship wasn’t entirely devoid of passion after all. Heh. Maybe it wasn’t, but what she is feeling right now is incomparable—this is sharp and clear and raw. She’s awake now. The aching between her legs is almost unbearable. They’re now horizontal on the bed. She guides his hand down the front of her trousers, under the front of her lace thong and pushes his fingers between her lips. They both gasp—the touch of his cool hand makes her clit throb. She’s ready and he feels his erection twitch in anticipation. He pulls away from her, grabs hold of her pants, rips them in two and tosses them aside. She reaches for his pants, but he’s already out of them, freeing his now rock hard penis, the tip already moist with pre-cum. He wants to look at her for a moment—to enjoy the anticipation, but his body is unstoppable and he just spreads her legs and slides inside with one motion. She lets out a sharp squeal of pleasure. OH MY GOD. This is IT. This is EVERYTHING.
Spike moans; “Aw fuck, you feel like you’re on fire. Jesus Christ.”
After pausing for a moment, he starts thrusting—pushing himself in as deep as he can and pulling out almost his entire length before pushing back in. She keeps forgetting to breathe and then periodically gasps for air. He looks down at her, kisses her and grasps at her breasts as he pulls in and out.
Spike: “So beautiful. I missed you so much.”
She closes her eyes in ecstasy. He picks up the pace a bit, pushing himself up taller.
Miranda: [breathless] “Spike, I love you.”
He stops for a moment and you can tell he’s trying desperately not to come.
Miranda: “It’s Ok—don’t wait for me. I’m probably too tired anyway.”
He just smirks.
Spike: “We’ll see about that.” He pulls her left leg up and rests it on his chest—he then shifts her pelvis slightly beneath him and resumes thrusting. Within seconds, Miranda is squealing—her body covered in a fine sweat. He starts pounding harder in response to her shrieks.
Miranda: “Ok, maybe you can wait.”
He smiles broadly. It doesn’t take long. When she comes, she screams his name so loud, you could probably hear it three floors up. She’s still writhing in pleasure when he pauses briefly to feel her orgasm take hold of and squeeze his cock inside her—that’s it—he rams into her one more time as he releases everything he’s got with a low moan and growl. It feels like buckets and goes on and on. By the time he’s finished and his brain begins to function again, he notices she’s started giggling. She laughs so hard, tears streak down her cheek.
Spike: “Giggles on the first time—I think that’s a record.”
Miranda: [in between laughs] “Guess I needed that”.
Spike: [looking into her eyes] “I told you so”.
Miranda: “You’re pretty smart, you know that?”
Spike: "I'm fucking brilliant."
He leans in for a gentle kiss and her giggles slow to a stop. He rolls to the side and they’re asleep within minutes.
**
A few hours later, Miranda wakes up and quietly sneaks out of bed. She rummages in her bag to pull out a t-shirt and looks at her watch, which is sitting on the bedside table. She finds her wallet and counts the cash she has in it, putting the bills on the table. She crawls back into bed and gently tries to wake Spike. He rolls over and smiles wearily.
Spike: “It can’t possibly be time to get up yet.”
Miranda: “Listen, I’ve got a plan and I don’t want you to make a fuss. It’s just dark now and the shops won’t be open much later and I’m too spent to go out. I want you to bite me and then take some money and get us some supplies. [She’s leaning on her elbow and he does the same, facing her. She takes a breath and in a softer, but serious tone, adds] I want you to take it all. You need the energy and I don’t know how long it will take me to get my bearings here. [He starts to protest] I’ll be fine. Take it all and I’ll wake up in four or five hours—you can whoop it up in town or come back here and sleep some more.”
Spike: “You’re being silly—I’m not that close to wasting away.”
Miranda: “Do it, love. I want to give you everything. I want a fresh start.”
He just gives her his confused frown look and then nods.
Spike: “Now?”
She nods. He moves closer to her and pushes her onto her back. He kisses her on the lips and then down her cheek and slowly moves his lips to her neck. Involuntarily, she tenses up. He lifts her up off the pillow, changes and gently sinks his teeth into her neck. She can’t stop herself from gasping. We hear the sound of him drinking and her eyes flutter and she’s out. After a few moments, he pulls back. He licks the excess blood from her neck and then lays her back down on the pillow.
Spike: [Pushing the hair back from her face] “Sorry, love. Had enough silence and dead things.” [You can see that she’s still breathing.]
He gets up and puts on his clothes, not taking his eyes off her for more than is absolutely necessary. He grabs the money on the table and the room key and heads out the door.