Part 3
Angel stared in fascination at Cordelia’s mouth as she talked animatedly to Giles. She had plump lips, something he’d always loved in women, and he knew for a fact that she knew what to do with them. Several things she could do with them, in fact.
He adjusted his position on the chair.
“…and I couldn’t seem to help myself,” Cordy finished her recount of last night’s sexcapades, not once looking at Angel.
Giles nodded, scribbling furiously on his notepad. “Any unusual visions, feelings, or smells?”
“Smells?” Confusion wrinkled her brow. “What do you mean by unusual? Like jalapeño jelly beans or something?”
Both men blinked at her odd example before Giles recovered and cleared his throat. “No, ah, I mean with the initial stirrings of, well, when you felt–“
“Go ahead, Giles, you can say it. When we became total horndogs and attacked each other.”
Angel couldn’t help the snicker that escaped him, and Cordelia shot him an incredulous look, as if she’d never heard him laugh before. Well, he supposed she hadn’t. There hadn’t been much to laugh about since he’d known her.
“I suppose that’ll do,” Giles said dryly.
“Nope, no weird smells that I remember. Or anything else. It was all kinda hazy, though.”
“And the bite mark?” Giles stood up, gesturing to the wounds on her neck with his pen, then throwing a piercing, fatherly stare over his glasses at Angel.
“Eh,” Cordy shrugged in an effort to cover her total case of the wiggins over that very topic. “Just a bite. No big, right? It’ll go away.”
Angel wondered about that even as she said it. She should’ve begun healing already. Not in a way noticeable to humans, but he’d sense it, and he didn’t in her case. The problem was, he could remember drinking from her and licking the wounds afterwards, but he couldn’t remember actually biting her.
“What were the circumstances of it?”
Cordy gave Giles her patented ‘dumbass’ look. “I thought we already covered this. Hot, sweaty sex all night long and somewhere in the middle, Angel had a snack. What’s to tell?”
“Angel didn’t say anything? Or bite you anywhere else?”
“Ah, well…” she trailed off, and Angel tensed visibly as she fidgeted.
“Okay, so he bit me someplace else. But it’s covered, so we’re all good. All the bites will heal, and things will go back to normal, and we can kick the hell out of the idiot that did this to us. Yay us!” She gave a little power cheer fist into the air, but it fell flat as her words sunk in and Angel’s suddenly hoarse voice followed.
“All the bites?” he croaked.
“How many are there?” Giles asked, eyes wide.
Cordy crossed her arms over her chest and smiled warily up at him. “Um, three?”
“I didn’t bite you three times!” Angel denied, gaping at her. “I only remember once!”
“And you remember the rest of the night so clearly,” Cordy retorted.
“I remember you pole dancing against my bedposts,” he muttered, then thought better of it when Cordy blushed furiously and shot him a murderous look.
Giles narrowed his eyes at Angel for a good minute before he turned back to Cordelia. “Where are the bites?”
She bit her lip. “That’s kinda personal, Giles. C’mon.”
He tapped his notepad. “It could be important.”
Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. “Where Angel bit me is going to make a difference in us finding out who started it all? Yeah, right.”
Giles stared her down and finally, she huffed, “Fine. Neck. Boob. Inner, um, well, we’ll go with thigh, okay?”
A flush glowed on her face as her entire body overheated with the vague snippets of memory she had to go along with those bites. Vampire bites were supposed to be painful, right? Well, these were far from it. All she remembered was an exponential increase in pleasure as Angel drew blood from her body. The multiple penetration in itself had been mind-blowing, but Cordy distinctly remembered a feeling of incredible fulfillment in his domination of her. She glanced to her right and immediately looked away; seeing Angel’s broad shoulders only heightened the power of those memories.
Angel caught Cordelia’s heated glance and felt his body go colder than usual. Oh, God, what the hell had he done? She had absolutely no idea what the placement of those bites meant. He chanced a glance at Giles, who was writing on his notepad again. The watcher didn’t seem to have recognized the significance of it, and Angel wasn’t about to enlighten him. It was a good thing he hadn’t said the ritual words along with all that biting…he didn’t want to think about what would’ve happened then.
Angel’s chest clenched when Giles intuitively asked, “And Angel didn’t say anything when he bit you?”
Oh, damn it. He did know.
“Hmm?” Cordy came out of her daydreaming and finally looked at Giles again. “Ah, no. I don’t think so. But like I said, I don’t remember much of it. To be honest, I don’t even remember the other two bites; I just saw them in the bathroom this morning. I do remember the neck one, though. That one was–” She made eye contact with Angel and suddenly stopped, pupils dilating as the lust arced between them again at the memory.
“Very well,” Giles sighed, sitting back down in his chair and setting his notepad back on his desk. “Finish out your school day. We’ll meet here tonight at eight to start researching. I need to compile all this information I’ve gathered and I need to talk to Joyce, too.” He stood, ushering them to the door.
“Be sure to let me know if you begin to feel anything out of the ordinary, Cordelia. Side effects from last night or from the bites.”
Cordy looked at Angel before she nodded, and Giles disappeared back into his office, shutting the door behind him.
Silence settled like a thick fog around them before Angel finally dispelled it. “I’ll see you tonight?”
Nodding, Cordelia chanced a glance up at him again. What she saw in his eyes held her mesmerized; he was nervous. She could sense it.
A small smile curved her lips as she closed the distance between them and placed one hand on his arm. “It’ll be okay, Angel.”
The corners of his mouth quirked up. “Aren’t I supposed to be reassuring you?” he asked, covering her hand with his.
She shrugged and grinned. “I’m not much of a follow-the-rules girl, if you haven’t figured that out by now.”
“I’m beginning to.”
Brown eyes turned nearly black as he cupped her jaw in his hands and brushed his lips across hers in a kiss that felt like hello and goodbye all at once. Cordelia leaned into him, her breath suddenly stopping as the tingles sizzled like sparklers across her lips.
When he pulled back, her knees were weak. Gasping air she’d forgotten, she managed a tentative smile before quipping, “Must be some magic juice left from last night.”
“Must be,” he agreed, but the look in his eyes said otherwise. His fingers dropped down to her neck, one thumb skimming across the marks in a caress that made her whole body shudder.
Pulling her close one last time, Angel whispered, “Have a good day at school, Cordelia.”
When she opened her eyes again, he was gone.
****
Joyce Summers attacked her kitchen sink with the ferocity her daughter would’ve shown a rogue demon. Tears blurred her vision as she scrubbed the hapless porcelain, but it didn’t seem to matter that the sink was cleaner than it had been new. A sink was nowhere in her vision; instead, images from last night and this morning haunted her, and even the frenzy of housework couldn’t erase them. Rupert Giles had made love to her. Again.
It had been the most glorious experience of her entire life.
Defeated, Joyce threw the sponge into the sink and turned, slumping as she leaned one hip against the counter and sighed. He was coming for dinner tonight and she’d have to see him again, look into those hazel eyes and find some way to keep from drowning in them. The problem was, she didn’t really want to find a way to avoid him. She wanted to trick him into her bedroom upstairs, lock him in, chain him down, and keep him forever.
It was a few moments before Joyce caught her reflection in the microwave door and, horrified, wiped the dreamy smirk off her face. Her face heated as she realized she’d just taken that little fantasy on to its very satisfying conclusion. Every nerve ending she had was sparking like motion lights at Christmastime. It occurred to her that she hadn’t felt this alive since before she left Hank. Since long before she left him.
Turning to the refrigerator, she pulled out the ingredients for dessert for tonight. Her mind started to wander again as she began preparations. It wandered from her fine china to the tapered candles she had hidden in the dining room hutch drawer, then to the lavender-scented bubble bath in her bathroom and finally resting on the lingerie she’d purchased just last week for only God knows why. She hadn’t had a lover since the last time she and Giles had been affected by the strange supernatural occurrences in this odd little town, but she had to admit that his face had flashed through her mind when she’d spied the emerald green satin in the department store.
Throwing the ingredients into a mixing bowl, she turned on the oven and set it to preheat, then attacked the batter until her arm ached. Giving up, she spooned it into a baking pan and leaned back into the counter to wait for the oven. A sigh welled up and she let it escape resignedly, finally admitting to what she’d been resolutely avoiding for the past year.
She was insanely attracted to Rupert Giles. And magic had nothing to do with it.
If she were honest with herself, she’d admit that the first sparks of attraction were there during their initial meeting, but she’d squelched them at the time. When she found out what Buffy really did at night, resentment for Giles’ role in putting her daughter in danger began to creep in and swallow up that attraction. It was stubborn, though, like Bermuda grass spoiling a finely manicured lawn. No matter how hard she tried, those little zings were there every time she saw him, even when Buffy had obviously just been in harm’s way.
At least she’d viewed it negatively then. Now, she couldn’t even hide behind that facade. She glanced up at the clock. Giles wouldn’t be here for another four hours; plenty of time for dinner to stew in the slow-cooker and the cake to cool before he arrived.
As if in sync with her thoughts, the oven beeped its message that it was ready for her dessert. Just as she finished closing the door and setting the timer for baking, the back door flew open and Buffy stalked inside, head down, striding resolutely toward the front of the house.
“Buffy?” Joyce asked as her daughter was about to walk right past her.
“Mom? Oh, hi,” Buffy looked startled. It was obvious her mind was elsewhere.
Joyce was surprised to see a mixture of confusion, anger, and hurt on her daughter’s face. “What happened? Did Giles find something?”
“Hmm?” It seemed that it took a minute for Joyce’s question to sink in. “Um, no. Nothing.” Buffy’s face twisted into a pained smile. “Absolutely nothing at all. Nothing there to find.”
“What do you mean?” Joyce began to panic. If they weren’t affected by something abnormal, then that meant that she and Giles had decided of their own free will to–oh, God, no–wait–
“Not that, Mom,” Buffy soothed as she saw the growing panic on her mother’s face. “Giles is still researching. I’m just dealing with my own issues, that’s all.”
Joyce gave her a sympathetic smile. “Spike, you mean?”
Buffy sighed, leaning against the counter. “Yeah. Spike. Evil, horrible Spike.”
“Not too horrible,” Joyce pointed out, “or you wouldn’t have been with him last night.”
Buffy’s blush could’ve lit up New York. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Realizing the need for retreat, Joyce nodded. “I’m here if you want to talk about it, honey.”
“I know, Mom. Thanks.” Buffy started out of the room, then stopped, her hand resting on the door jamb as she turned back to face her mother. “I’m here for you, too, you know.”
Joyce blushed, not meeting Buffy’s eyes. “Thanks, sweetie. I know you are.”
Lingering at the doorway for just a minute more, Buffy watched her mother’s trembling hands as she fussed in the kitchen. It gave her some peace to realize she wasn’t the only one with problems this time.
****
“So, anybody up for some midnight bowling tonight?” Xander suggested through a mouthful of pizza.
His tablemates looked at him in disbelief.
“Everything that’s going on and you want to go bowling?” Cordelia asked incredulously.
Xander shrugged. “What’s the big deal? Weird things happen to us all the time.”
Willow looked up from the salad she was rearranging on her plate and glared at him, eyes swimming with frustrated tears. “Would you just shut up, Xander?”
He blushed and looked away, grabbing his soda and gulping the rest of it down. “Just trying to get our minds off it, Wills.”
“Well, I’m glad you can forget so easily. Some of us can’t,” she whispered, and biting her lip, stood quickly, gathering her salad and walking over to the trash can across the cafeteria.
“Way to go, Xander,” Cordelia hissed, elbowing him. “Now I have to deal with mopey Willow all afternoon. Thanks a lot.”
All of Xander’s frustration morphed into anger. “Lay off, Cordy. You think I don’t know I’m being an ass? I just don’t know how to handle this. I mean, God, I slept with Willow. Willow! My best friend since birth. It’s like finding out I slept with my sister.”
“That didn’t stop you from making out with her when you were dating me,” Cordelia couldn’t help but add.
Xander flinched. “Temporary insanity.”
Cordy watched Willow navigate her way back to their table, noticing that the redhead’s eyes never left the floor. A pang of sympathy struck her before she shoved it down.
Xander squirmed next to her and Cordy noticed that his eyes kept darting over to Willow and then sliding away. The sympathy came back, and she sighed with frustration. When the hell had she become such a softie? God knew Xander and Willow didn’t deserve any of her sympathy, but here it was, rearing its ugly head.
Finally giving in, she asked, “Was it really that bad?”
“No,” Xander admitted, looking relieved to be talking about it. “Physically, it was amazing. I felt invincible, protective, and loving all at once. I remember the look in her eyes, Cordy. She got as much out of it as I did. But when it wore off…”
“You realized what it all meant,” Cordy finished for him.
“Yeah.” He crumpled his soda can in one hand. “And everything crashed on our heads.”
Willow slid onto the bench across from them, not meeting Xander’s eyes.
He stood up. “I’ll see you at the research party tonight.”
“‘Kay, bye,” Cordy said absently, noting Willow’s apathy and rolling her eyes at the concern that welled up.
Xander walked around to Willow and placed a hand on her shoulder, straddling the bench to sit beside her and meet her at eye level.
“I’m sorry, Wills,” he whispered, running two fingers down her cheek.
She nodded, still not looking at him. “Bye, Xander,” she whispered, and it seemed to Cordelia that multiple meanings echoed through the words.
After hesitating a moment, Xander left.
The sounds of the cafeteria settled around Willow and Cordelia as they sat silent. Cordelia continued to pick at her food, annoyed and guilty at the same time. She wondered how to proceed. A driving need to console Willow’s obvious depression was overtaking her, but it wasn’t like she and Willow were buddies who could hash it out slumber-party style. They were, at best, wary acquaintances.
After a moment or two of studying the remnants of her lunch, Cordy took a deep breath of frustration and gave into the inevitable. She had to admit Willow hadn’t really earned the leper status Cordy had been giving her, despite the redhead’s betrayal with Xander. Her sometimes inept social skills and her obviously poor choice in friends were other good reasons to avoid her, and yet, Cordy felt drawn by the sadness on her face. Still, it wasn’t like she could just jump right in and ask Willow to confide in her; she doubted she had her trust, and that hurt more than it should.
It startled her when Willow asked, “Why are you still here, Cordy?”
Cordelia met Willow’s eyes, still annoyed with herself. “I’m worried about you, okay? Geez, touchy, much?”
A pained look crossed Willow’s face, and Cordy immediately felt bad for adding to Willow’s current strife.
“Why would you care about me?” Willow finally asked in small voice. “You never have before.”
Crumpling up the trash from her lunch, Cordy weighed her thoughts carefully before answering. “I do care.”
Willow looked skeptical.
Toying with a ripped edge of her napkin, Cordy contemplated how far she wanted to indulge this benevolent streak. Finally, she rolled her eyes and huffed, “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch to you for so long, okay? You’re not such a bad person, despite your boyfriend-stealing tendencies.”
Blushing and biting her lip, Willow looked away. “I am really sorry about that, Cordy.”
“I know you are,” Cordy said frankly. “That’s why I still talk to you. My only excuse is that I didn’t ever really get to know you and I misjudged you. Now I know better, and I kind of like you once in awhile, although sometimes I don’t know why.”
“I feel the same way about you,” Willow admitted, and Cordy was astonished to feel a warm swell of pleasure at the other girl’s words. It had been a long time since someone had admitted they actually liked her.
“I don’t act on it very often, I know,” she added after a pause, “but you don’t usually give me a chance. It’s not like you run to me when you have a problem. That’s what Buffy’s for.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Willow muttered caustically, then caught herself and stammered, “I-I mean, um–“
Cordelia laughed. “Don’t worry; I won’t say anything. But I’m not surprised. Buffy’s had some serious personal issues in the last year. I’m not surprised she’s forgotten how to listen to anybody else’s problems.”
“I just can’t bring anything up, you know?” Willow’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “I mean, somehow my B+ on a math test doesn’t compare with her having to send her serial killer boyfriend to hell.” She shrugged. “I just got out of the habit. And now…”
“Now she has problems with Spike, so it’s not like she’s gonna be objective.”
Willow’s shoulders rose in a sigh. “Yeah.”
“So tell me about it,” Cordelia encouraged, and the words sounded genuine to even herself. Maybe she actually did like Willow. Weird.
Wariness crinkled Willow’s brow. “Are you serious?”
Cordy pfft’d and rolled her eyes. “Duh, wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t.” She paused before continuing. “You know, I don’t really have anybody to talk to, either. It’s not like Harmony is going to be sympathetic or objective.”
The redhead’s smile was genuine, albeit tentative. “I guess you’re right. Maybe we need each other?”
A shrug lifted Cordelia’s shoulders, but she felt strangely vulnerable; Willow’s friendship seemed to mean more than she ever thought it would. “I guess we do,” she admitted, and in a moment of decisiveness, threw her reservations to the wind. “So, spill. Why is this bothering you so much? Xander is so close to you. I’d think you’d be glad you didn’t make it with a stranger.”
Willow’s eyes widened. “I guess I hadn’t considered that. But it’s Xander! it’s so weird. Like sleeping with my brother.”
Cordy smiled. “Huh. That’s just what he said.”
“Xander didn’t like it?” Willow said quickly, her eyes wide. “Wait–I didn’t mean–“
“No, he liked it all right,” Cordelia said, grimacing a bit at the thought of Xander and Willow together. “He just said that it’s the repercussions that are wigging him out.”
Shoulders slumping in defeat, Willow rested her elbows on the edge of the table and rubbed her temples with her fingers. “What if we can’t get past this? What if I’ve lost my best friend forever?”
“You won’t lose him,” Cordy said matter-of-factly. “Xander loves you, even if he’s not in love with you. He’s already proven he’ll put you before anything else. You’ll get past it.”
“You think so?” Willow’s gaze was hopeful.
“I know so.” Bitterness rose up, a last tribute to her loss of Xander’s love. Ruthlessly she shoved it away. She’d moved past this. Of course now she had this debacle with Angel to deal with. To Willow she added, “Count yourself lucky.”
Willow eyed her perceptively. “So you and Angel, huh? I never would’ve guessed that.”
“You and me both,” Cordelia muttered, twisting the straw in her soda a little more viciously than was necessary. “I can’t stop thinking about him, and I can’t have him.”
“Why not?”
It was a simple question, but it stunned Cordelia anyway. “Why not? He’s a vampire!” The “Duh!” was implied, but Willow ignored it.
“So?” Willow shrugged. “He’s got a soul.”
Cordelia gaped at her. “I can’t believe this. When Buffy dated him you weren’t down with the vampire love.”
Willow had to think about that one for a moment. “I thought they were good together at first,” she finally answered. “I mean, Angel’s kinda cute and Buffy really loved him. But then he went sorta nuts with the whole Angelus thing and I realized after he got his soul back that they weren’t right for each other. They’re too much alike; they have too many emotional issues. I think Angel needs someone more like you.”
Warily, Cordelia asked, “What do you mean, someone like me?”
“Someone who will lighten him up and give him some perspective.”
“You mean someone who will yell at him.”
“And make him laugh,” Willow added, eyes twinkling. “I never realized it until you started dating Xander, but you’re funny.”
“Robin Williams funny or Richard Simmons funny?”
“Case in point,” Willow giggled, and Cordy found herself smiling, too.
“So what’s with the Angel parade all the sudden?” Cordy asked. “Last month you were still glaring at him for killing your fish.”
“I liked my fish,” Willow shrugged. “But there’s something vulnerable about Angel. I don’t know. Even though he was so evil as Angelus, Angel doesn’t deserve to pay for all that. He can’t help it.”
Cordelia gave her a wide-eyed stare. “Don’t let Giles hear you say that.”
Willow’s smile was wry. “I know. Or Buffy, for that matter. As much as she thinks she loves Angel, she can’t get past it.”
“Neither can I,” Cordy muttered.
Willow scrutinized her expression. “You don’t mean it in the same way, do you?”
“Huh?” Wide-eyed, gaze darting around the room, Cordy forced a smile and hedged, “Yeah, sure I do. Angel. Vampire. Bad. Remember?”
“Uh-uh,” Willow shook her head. “Not gonna work, Cordy. What do you mean?”
Sighing, Cordy rested her chin on her hand and frowned. Did she really want to share this much with Willow, of all people? After a moment of consideration, she decided she did. Willow was loyal and a good listener, even if those traits had never been directed in Cordy’s direction. Besides, Willow was the only person she knew, besides Buffy, who could really understand what it meant to have a boyfriend who had a supernatural dark side.
She finally met Willow’s eyes again. “The darkness draws me,” she admitted, feeling incredibly vulnerable. “I mean, he bit me. I should be freaked out. And I was, at first. But then I remembered what it was like when he did it, and I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Willow’s voice dropped to a whisper, an awed but intrigued look on her face. “It didn’t hurt?”
“Heck no,” Cordy whispered back, flushing. “It was hot. Like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Just thinking about it makes me…”
“Shivery?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Willow gulped, mesmerized by the spell that seemed to be cast around Cordelia. “Is that all? Just the biting?”
Frowning, Cordelia considered her answer. “No. I have this odd awareness of him. Like earlier, I could just sense that he was nervous, when if you looked at his face, you couldn’t really tell. It was weird.”
“Like you’re on the same wavelength.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Wow,” Willow sighed, a dreamy look on her face. “That’s kinda romantic.”
“Yeah, if you’re a masochist with a mind control fetish on the side.”
Willow snorted a giggle, then covered her mouth in embarrassment. “It is romantic. And it doesn’t really sound that bad. Kinda hot, actually.”
A raised eyebrow preceded Cordy’s reply. “I didn’t realize until just now that your fuzzy pink sweaters are completely misleading. You’re hiding a kinky side, aren’t you?”
Willow shrugged evasively, but her blush said everything. “I think you should see where this thing with Angel goes.”
“Why’s that?”
“Cause it looks like in your case, bad vampire could be really, really good.”
Cordy smirked, then sobered abruptly. “Maybe. But whatever it goes, getting there scares the hell out of me.”
****
The clear, crisp winter night was beautiful with its velvet-blue sky and glittering diamond-like stars, but Spike didn’t notice. One earth-bound diamond kept catching his attention as she walked by his side, blonde hair swinging in a rhythm that was hypnotizing. He couldn’t help but keep a half a pace behind her so that even in his peripheral vision, he could see her face clearly. Then again, he wasn’t trying very hard to hide his staring; he wanted her to notice. Wanted her to get mad and yell at him for being a pig. Wanted her to show something. Anything.
Anything but this cold demeanor that made him feel as alive as one of the tombstones they were passing.
Thoughtfully, he turned his head and stared at her openly, feeling a measure of satisfaction when her jaw twitched and her eyes flickered over to him. He watched as her hand clenched a stake tighter and her stride lengthened. He let himself fall behind, taking a place directly behind her and watching the sculpted muscles in her legs and butt flex as she walked.
It only took five or six strides for Buffy to realize what he was doing.
“Will you back off?” she growled, whipping around and brandishing the stake in his face as he jerked to a stop behind her.
“‘m not doin’ anything,” he growled back, closing the space between them and letting the point of her stake rest firmly against his chest. “Just enjoyin’ the view…” her eyes flashed, “…of such a beautiful night.”
Buffy’s eyebrow raised as she pulled back, crossing her arms in front of her. “View of the night? Is that all?”
His eyes flickered down to her lips, then her breasts, before he met her eyes again and smirked. “Yep, that’s all.”
She snorted indelicately. “What are you doing here, anyway?”
“Having tea, Slayer. What the hell does it look like I’m doing?”
It seemed as if Buffy was at a crossroads; she pursed her lips in indecision before finally answering, “Looks like you’re looking to get lucky.”
Spike’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Well, color me shocked. Can it be possible that the Slayer is actually saying what she thinks for once instead of hinting around like a schoolgirl playing games?”
Rolling her eyes in irritation, Buffy whirled around and stalked away. “I knew this was a mistake.”
In seconds, Spike was at her side again. “What was?” Spike knew he was setting himself up for disappointment, but he couldn’t help himself.
“Letting you live,” she muttered, dodging a tombstone in her path. “I should’ve staked you the second I realized what I’d–we’d–you’d done to me.”
A menacing growl escaped Spike before he could stop it. How dare she lay all the blame at his feet? He reached out and yanked her to a stop, his fingers digging into the hard muscle of her bicep.
“You just hold on a minute, Slayer. Don’t think you didn’t have a hand–or several other body parts–in this, too.”
She jerked her arm away from him, but despite the fury of the gesture, Spike could see tears shining in her angry eyes. “You think I don’t know that? God, I must be mental. Why, of all people…no, wait. Why, of all demons, would I choose you?” She spat the word as if it befouled her mouth to form it.
Curiosity at her vulnerability kept him from reacting with anger. “Why did I choose you?” he countered. “You’re wrong for me for all the same reasons. Still, I’m man enough to admit that you’re by far the best I’ve ever had.”
Buffy’s mouth dropped open in shock. “What? Not even Dru–” she clamped her mouth shut as she realized what she’d been about to say.
Spike’s smile was gentle rather than derisive. “Not even Dru,” he agreed, taking her arm again, but this time with tenderness rather than violence. His fingers stroked her skin, sending tingles snaking up her arm. “No one in my entire life and unlife has affected me the way you did, Buffy.”
She bit her lip, again in indecision. “It was the same for me,” she admitted.
Spike could feel the wall of ice melt between them. “Do you remember how it happened?” his voice was husky, like fine sandpaper, and Buffy shivered in remembrance as it all flooded back.
“We were patrolling,” she began, and their eyes met and held.
“Like we are now,” Spike added. He closed the distance between them, sliding his arms around her waist.
Buffy swallowed convulsively. “It was like I was taken over by everything primitive in me, no common sense at all. Like you were everything.”
“Like you were the only one in the world who mattered.”
“Yeah,” she sighed, eyes closing, biting her lip. “And I didn’t care about anything except–“
“–being with you,” they said together.
She opened her eyes and her gaze caught his, and something elemental passed between them. They were under no delusions; there was no love here. Still, the undercurrent of desire and the memories of last night were strong, and it ceased to matter whether love or the future was important. There was something between them too strong to deny, a chemistry that only came along once in a millennium. It was an opportunity that neither of them–despite their animosity, their warring personalities, or their incompatible moral codes–could ignore.
Breath hitching, Buffy ran one finger down Spike’s chest. “You know this means nothing,” she whispered, eyes full of an emotion that both of them felt but neither could describe.
“I know,” he whispered back. “It means everything.”
Against all within her that screamed for her to flee, the smoothness of his cheek drew her in, her hand coming up to stroke it gently. She nearly whimpered at the sensation on her fingertips, a myriad of memories assaulting her from the night before.
The gentle movement was the spark to Spike’s smoldering flame. He ignited, his arms tightening around her in a powerful grip, palms splayed across her back as his mouth assaulted hers in a kiss that was fierce in its intensity. It took only a moment for her to wrap one arm around his neck, her fingers splaying in his hair, the other arm snaking around his waist, her hand grabbing his ass and squeezing firmly. Spike moaned into her mouth and she molded her body to his.
After that, everything became a sea of sensation as they reveled in the ferocity of their unique brand of lovemaking, took pleasure in giving and taking while holding nothing back. It didn’t matter that they had nothing in common, everything in opposition, and absolutely no future. For now, the euphoria of physical pleasure was all that mattered.
****
Angel felt frozen where he stood in the shadows of the cemetery and watched Buffy reach up and touch Spike’s cheek. Longing was etched on her face despite the confusion in her eyes, and it seemed as if she were drawn by some kind of magnetism into Spike’s body. Angel only blinked, incapable of tearing his eyes away.
He’d been outside in the night air as soon as it dusk had fallen, unable to take being cooped up in the mansion with Cordelia’s scent still redolent in the air, taunting and teasing him in turns. The minute his senses gave him clearance to be outdoors, he’d abandoned his home, prowling the back streets and cemeteries in search of a fight or two to mitigate some of the confusion he was feeling about his emotions toward Cordelia.
Seeing Spike and Buffy intertwined in such an intimate embrace only heightened his confusion.
Shouldn’t he feel at least some pangs of jealousy at the sight of them? He felt barely a tinge of dismay. It would be natural for him to be filled with rage at the thought of Spike claiming what was rightfully his, but the idea wasn’t unappealing. Angel felt as though he’d become a detached observer, clinically studying the pros and cons of a Buffy-Spike relationship and deciding that it might not be all bad. They might even be good for each other.
It should be an appalling thought, but it wasn’t.
When the display in front of him became undeniably carnal, Angel knew he should turn away, but he couldn’t. Angelus had had a penchant for voyeurism, and despite his soul, Angel still felt that pull. What kept him interested tonight, however, was not a perverse pleasure in seeing Buffy and Spike in flagrante delicto. What kept him here were the substitutions his imagination was making. Blonde hair was replaced by brown, slight curves substituted with lush ones. The male’s body became brawnier, the female’s more lush, and no longer did he see Buffy and Spike.
He saw himself and Cordelia.
Angel’s eyes slid shut, the image of their writhing bodies imprinted on his mind, and he leaned back against a tree for support. His fingers clenched into fists, his breathing ragged. He felt frantic, needy, desperate for the feel of Cordy’s velvety skin under his fingers. His clothes felt restrictive, confining, a poor substitute for the blanket of her body against his. He drew a deep breath to steady himself, but every molecule of air seemed saturated with her scent, and he groaned, his body and soul jerked painfully in needy unison.
“Angel?”
It took only a microsecond for Cordelia’s actual presence to register before his eyes shot open and he grabbed her, clamping a hand over her mouth and shushing her. She put up a token struggle before relaxing against him. He felt rather than saw her noticing the explicit display a few feet away. Angel stifled a groan as he felt her body crushed against his, and it was all he could do to tamp down the lust that was so close to spiraling out of control.
Cordy craned her neck around to gape at him with wide eyes and he removed his hand from her mouth.
“Why–oh, God. Do I really want to ask you this question?” she whispered furiously, eyes darting back and forth between him and Buffy and Spike, as if she watched them against her will. “Why are you spying on them?”
Tightening his arms around her, he pressed his chest against her back and spoke low in her ear. “I wasn’t,” Angel tried to explain. “I was minding my own business, walking through the cemetery, and suddenly there they were. And before I knew it, they were making out, and then…”
“Then a freeview of skinimax?” She whispered back and felt him nod in assent, his lips resting against her neck. She shivered.
Cordelia was shocked, bewildered, and aroused all at once. It was a double assault: the Buffy and Spike action at her front, Angel’s solid, sexy body at her back. One sane part of her mind was frantically yelling for her to come to her senses and run, screaming, in the opposite direction. It was also telling her that Angel’s voyeurism was disturbing. But that sane part of her brain must have been hidden behind some type of barrier because it was incredibly easy to shut out. To ignore it and to focus only on the carnality of what was happening in front of her and the solid, virile strength at her back.
Angel could sense the struggle within her, the pull toward the carnal that already held him in thrall. He tightened his grip around her, palms splaying wide across her flat stomach, thumbs resting just under her breasts, teasing the bottoms of their curves. Her hair teased his skin, and he couldn’t resist the need to taste her, flick his tongue across the feather-soft skin of her neck, and drink in the scent of arousal that floated around her and increased with every passing second.
Cordy stood frozen for a few moments, mesmerized by the frantic nature of the slayer and vampire coupling and the added layer of Angel’s lazy nibbles on her skin. Then the foreplay was over, Buffy and Spike’s clothes were gone, and the writhing bodies met in a fury that was suddenly too much to take. She turned in Angel’s arms and buried her face in his chest, desperate for some escape, even if it meant going from the frying pan into the fire.
Angel licked his marks once and at her shiver, hugged her, then pulled her out of view. He looked down at her, felt her warm body pressed against his, her racing heartbeat, her rapid breathing, and it became too much.
“Cordelia,” he whispered, and tilted her chin up before crushing his mouth to hers.
It was a kiss born of fire and wickedness.
Cordy’s head was swimming so fast she felt as though she’d been sucked into a vortex with no chance to escape. Angel’s mouth was everything her mama should’ve warned her about, but didn’t: hot, desperate, and sinful. His tongue delved into her mouth as his big hands cupped her backside and pulled her so close she could feel every hard inch of his body pressing up against hers. His voraciousness only served as an accelerant to the fire that had been stoked in her since she’d woken up in his bed this morning, and her fingers clutched desperately at his shirt. For a moment, they became not Cordelia and Angel, vampire and regular girl, but one pulsing, volatile entity.
Angel felt his inhibitions shatter as the enigma that was Cordelia took him over. He couldn’t kiss enough, feel enough, taste enough, grab enough to even take the edge off his hunger. Every movement made the urgency increase, and it was that very loss of control that scared him into pulling away.
With great care, Angel stepped back and let his hands drop from where they’d come to rest on her sides. Cordy wobbled a bit, wide-eyed and weak-kneed, her breathing harsh and ragged. Their eyes were still locked, and for a moment, the kiss continued if only in their imaginations.
“Oh, God. Slayer!”
Spike’s triumphant, climactic yell echoed through the cemetery, and Cordy’s mouth went dry at the sound of pure pleasure those three words seemed to encompass. Immediately following was a long wail and a groan from Buffy, and then all was silent. Cordy swallowed and looked away. Angel moved closer and she took a tentative step back, but all Angel did was gently grasp her hand and lead her out of the cemetery and down the street toward the high school.
There was still research to be done, after all.
