Chapter Six

Girls and Boys

You keep asking me about Spike. I don't get it. Yeah I guess our connection was pretty intense back in the day. But all that ended when he got resurrected to his bone-head undead self. Did you know that he didn't tell me he was back from the dead for a whole year? One minute he's swearing his eternal love for me, then he's bursting into flames and I'm all wearing black and mourning. I look cute in black you know. There was crying in Rome. More than anyone saw. It's good I went there before embarking on the fiasco that is my non-relationship with Faith. I needed some space to grieve. I spent a year crying silent tears into my pillow as I lay beside the sleeping Immortal. And you know when I find out Spike's alive? In the middle of the biggest damn apocalyptic battle you can imagine. I know I don't have enough fingers to count the number of times I've seen the world almost end, but that time there was a dragon. Yeah it was way cool, when it wasn't attacking my friends that is, but apart from that, the coolest.

The new Slayers were still kinda green but we converged to help Angel save the world from the evil that is senior partners of Los Angeles law firms. Anyhow, Vi, Rhona, Kennedy and I were decapitating these seriously bad ass demons while Angel, ever the hero, worked on slaying the dragon. Then I saw something which made me think my time was up again. It was Spike with his eyes fixated on me while he took down a bunch of demonic nasties. I thought I was seeing visions of Spike's ghost beckoning me into the world to come. My axe crashed to the ground and I was about to follow suit when someone caught me. No, it wasn't Faith. She was dealing with the big evil brewing in Cleveland. It was actually this blue woman. No really, her hair was blue and she cocked her head to one side and looked at me with these strange cloudy eyes and said; “you're a Slayer” like I was a rare scientific curiosity. That was Illyria. Strange chick. You haven't met her have you?

Spike? Oh right. So the alley and our clothes were splattered in demon guts. Have you ever tried removing intestine stains from suede boots? Nightmare. Apocalyptic battles can really get you down after a while. When this one was done Spike was all; “Surprise! I'm not toast.”

When I found out he'd been back for almost a year, I poked a stake against his chest and told him I was tempted. Then I walked away. Well, I flew actually. Back to Rome to convince myself of my undying love for the Immortal. But on our brief visit to LA Dawn had spied Connor. It was a year or two before they started dating, but after that visit her heart didn't return to Italy with us. Figuratively speaking.

So, I was mad at Spike. But I was still into him. He'd broken my trust enough times that it could never be some big love relationship. But I wanted him. That was always there. And then came Climax. That's what I call it `cos there was climaxing in all happy body ways and it was also the climax of the build up between us all. I personally think it should be sub-titled `Two for the price of one; Buffy's night of happies with the un-dead.'

You're wondering how it all got started? We'd been back from Italy for like five minutes, maybe four. Angel and I had been `catching up' and `bonding.' But we couldn't fully `bond' what with ultimate bliss being his big exemption clause to a relationship. Funny really `cos for me and Faith the lack of perfect happiness isn't a curse, just regular life. My stuff wasn't even unpacked but I was hanging outside Angel's room in the sun-resistant windows wing of the school. As we were `catching up' and `bonding' Spike walked up and said; “What the hell are you two doing?” in his most exasperated tone of voice. “Is he evil? Again.” He didn't sound too upset about it. “If you want me to kill him for you Buffy love, I will. I'd do that for you.”

Angel wasn't exactly delighted; “You'd just love that wouldn't you Spike?”

“Yep.”

“I'm not evil!” Angel turned to me and said; “You really dated this loser?”

I shrugged, but Spike puffed out that beautifully sculpted chest; “Yeah, and she loved every minute of it mate. We actually got to do stuff.”

Angel didn't have much of a response to that, so he dipped me back and kissed me like in those black and white movies Mom watched. Angel's an old fashioned guy. It was hot and romantic until Spike wrenched me from Angel's arms and pinned my wrists to the wall of the corridor.

Are you sure you want all these details? Well, ok then. It's not like you've never heard about me having sex with Spike before. For some reason I can always tell you the embarrassing stuff.

So Spike bragged; “Bet I could make Slayer here come way more times than you.” Things were getting interesting. I was kinda curious where this was going, but you know what's weird? I was the focus of their rivalry but in the midst of arguing it's like they weren't even aware I was there.

“In your dreams Bleach Boy. She loves me. Shame you can't say the same. And I would so win. According to Dru your technique is `lacking finesse.'”

“There were no complaints from Dru, Broody Brows. You gonna put your money where your mouth is?”

“Yes.” As they shook on it a deeply meaningful look was exchanged that lingered just a moment too long.

Until I interrupted; “Not that I want to discourage this particular competition but you two so need to get a room!” I wasn't interested in being the spectator. If the three of us were going to get it on, I wanted to know I was in on the action.

“If we're getting a room Slayer, you'd better be there.” Phew.

Angel of course was the voice of reason; “No one's getting a room. Buffy, if we make love,” The phrase was thrown in Spike's direction, “I don't want Peroxide Features killing the mood.”

Spike was now leaning against the wall of the corridor absently flicking through an issue of Soap Opera Digest which he'd produced from his back pocket. “If it's literal killing it's fine by me.”

“Shut up Spike.” We said simultaneously.

I explained quietly to Angel that he and I could never make love alone, because of his soul and all. Angel nodded. He understood what I was getting at. This might be our only opportunity and we needed Spike there.

We all paused for a moment in the high quality tingles of that realization. I think that's when we knew what was gonna happen. I'll admit I was nervous. Not because these were the two great loves of my life at the time. But because anyone could see they'd been into each other since before my great great grandmother was born. What if they left me out? Angel and Spike, I'd noticed, were a lot like me and Faith. They bugged the hell out of and supposedly hated each other. Having me there meant they could finally do it without admitting their feelings. In my generous and giving way, I was willing to oblige. Receiving orgasms was a chore I can tell you. The UN should make me a good will ambassador, don't you think?

Then Angel unlocked his door and ushered us in with all the ceremony of entering a Park Avenue hotel. Angel's room was simple, classical and expensive; everything you'd expect - if you knew him. Mom would have been ashamed of how little I knew about the two large art pieces adorning his walls. Stacked beside the leather arm-chair, the kind you can curl up in, was a stack of ancient frighteningly impressive books. Knowing Angel, he'd have read them all. Despite being there with two guys you could say I was familiar with, I wasn't sure what I should do with myself. I tentatively sat myself down on Angel's king size bed, surreptitiously reaching under the covers. The sheets felt as luxurious as you'd imagine. There I was, about to do God knows what with two seriously hot guys, trying to guess the thread count of the sheets.

The boys stood in front of me, looking at one another; “But what about your soul?” Spike was scathing. For someone who'd gone to so much trouble getting one, Spike didn't have much concern about Angel losing his.

“Don't worry Spike.” Angel's tone was snidely reassuring. “With you here, not much chance of ultimate happiness.”

“Bollocks.” Spike looked beaten for a moment. That was until he started removing my clothing.

But even that didn't go entirely smoothly as they started to argue and then land punches over who got to take off each item. I shifted on the bed. I was a lot more involved in this scenario the way it had gone in my head. Not that I'd ever thought about it.

They were sending each other flying across the room. Angel collided with an open weapons chest; “Ok boys, enough foreplay.” He was on his feet again fast enough to respond with a back hand to my stomach which momentarily sent me tumbling from the bed.

Spike then decided to defend my honour; “Angelus, you hit a girl!” As he said it Spike grinned, realizing he was a pot calling a kettle a vampire or something.

Angel shook his head and actually smiled. And then we were all laughing. “Buffy, want me to kiss that better for you?” Angel was on his knees at my side easing my blue cashmere sweater up to my breasts so his mouth had access to my stomach.

Spike raised his hand; “I'll help.”

They carefully pushed me down. I closed my eyes as items of my clothing were peeled away and the shiver of cold vampire lips seemed to be touching every inch of my skin at once. There was no blood, but the edge of danger, as always, heightened the back arching and moaning as Angel lightly chewed my hip and Spike lapped at my neck. They could bite into me at any moment and I'd be dead within seconds as they simultaneously drained my blood. Obviously that would never happen as it would involve them working cooperatively and all. But I like a little risk and fear with my sex. Is that totally twisted? Either way, it was hot.

I raised myself up on an elbow, between them on the Persian rug; “Guuuuuuuuuys,” I said all eyelashes and innocence, “you know what would be totally scorching?”

“What?” They asked in unison. It's astounding, they can actually agree if they try.

“Once you've removed your clothes…” That happened pretty swiftly what with the inevitable competition over who could get naked first. “Spike, why don't you put your hand on Angel's butt?”

Spike predictably rolled his eyes. “If you think I'm going to touch the hairy, bumpy arse of Mr. Sulk and Brood…”

“Actually, Angel has a lovely butt.” And it was now completely bare, I stroked it.

Angel smirked at Spike. “Thank you Buffy.”

Under his breath, Spike said, “Not so lovely the way I remember.” Interesting. I made a mental note: ask them both about that, some other day.

“Spike? You remember how I get when I'm really turned on, right?” I grazed my fingers over his dick which seemed to excite him even more than he was already.

“Uh huh. Oh yeah. Not going to be forgetting that love.”

Angel was suddenly very interested in what Spike had to say. “How? How does she get?” He got all cute and fidgety the way he does when he doesn't know what's going on, or feels left out.

“Guys? Priorities? Hit pause on the discussion. You're wasting valuable Buffy time. You could experience firsthand how I get.”

“You're gonna want to see this mate.” Spike gave Angel's ass a squeeze, which seemed to surprise him.

“Spike, you could stroke it a little?” Jeez, it was like they needed a team captain to tell them what to do. Hey, that would be the coolest job. Anyway, Angel's face was doing amusing contortions as he was trying hard not to show how much he was enjoying Spike's caresses.

Personally I was happy what with being all naked and exposed in the middle of lots of cold hard vampire flesh. You probably didn't want that visual did you?

I was just impressed that Spike and Angel worked together to get me off. If they could keep that up, the working cooperatively thing I mean, imagine the power we could harness? Evil of the world beware. Also, they'd both be way less grouchy.

While Angel was going down on me, Spike snaked a finger into his ass. I think he was trying to bug Angel, who growled, but not in an angry way. They only kissed because I wanted to watch. Forget being the one girl in all the world. Having two hot guys with endless un-dead stamina who'll do anything you ask, is where the power's at. I took Angel's hand showing him how to tease Spike so his eyes rolled back in his head. When he called Angel's name, it was distinctly un-derogatory. After that they didn't need much encouragement. Talk about centuries of foreplay.

As for me and Angel, we'd spent so many years wanting each other and toying with the idea. Our desire had built to near breaking point. Something needed to happen. We got to do it in a non-terrified fumbling sixteen year old way. And as a bonus he didn't end up an evil pile of dust. It wasn't the romantic four poster bed and night of rose petals we'd imagined. Spike snarking; “She's faking Great Grand Sire. Want me to show you how it's done?” “She likes it when you bite her nipples” and “It's not very big is it?” was something of a mood-killer - which was kinda the point.

My anger at Spike was never much of a hindrance to sex what with it being my default reaction to him. We'd never have a relationship because I'd never trust him again but I was still attracted. Not so much now. He just bugs me. Doing Spike was awfully thrilling - until I'd had Faith.

You wanna know about that? I bet you do. It's one of my favourite things to talk about. I'm glad you're here because there's no one else I can tell. Lots more later.

So, here's the weird thing about the night of many climaxes. When limbs had been untangled and many a breathless sigh of relief taken; I was done. Emotionally I mean. Quite a few things I'd fantasized about seeing or doing had been deliciously realized. But I didn't want them anymore. Either of them. I didn't expect that. I thought I'd want Angel to be the mysterious dark stranger rescuing me forever. In the moment, even Spike's mouth on mine was forgotten. The only thing I was aware of was Angel inside of me. In that moment of togetherness I felt every ounce of teenage pining and adoration for Angel. Despite Spike slapping Angel's face; “For your own good mate” when I screamed and he groaned our simultaneous climaxes, it was like the mystical build up, of all that wanting between us, was released. By having sex we realized we weren't in love anymore. They should write that up in the dictionary under the definition of irony.

There was relief when Angel had arched his back in pleasure and was still lying beside me. But there was a part of me that wanted him to know how it felt; to wake up with languorous satisfied smiles and naughty body echoes of what had just been done; to reach out for the one he desired, the one he'd saved himself for and felt closest to his whole un-dead life; to do that and find the space bedside him empty. Actually he found Spike next to him, which for Angel was way worse. It wasn't that I was angry with Angel; he wasn't to blame for Angelus. I just wanted to be the one to leave this time.

With Spike, part of me wanted him to ache and sob into his pillow every night with memories of being burnt by me, even if that wasn't literal. I still had mornings when I'd wake up with the image of Spike being charred to cinders and the familiar ache that he was gone forever. But now that would instantaneously turn to rage. The anger was there even after he took control and roughed me up in the best possible ways. My fury didn't dissipate like the smirk of the newly risen being dusted, just because Spike swore eternal love and devotion with adoring eyes as he came. So I did what I always did after sex with Spike. I walked out. What would I do now? I had no idea. But with much metaphory and literal goodness, I closed the door on them both. I heard Spike say; “What is with that girl?”

Angel sounded genuinely perturbed; “Beats me.”

When Spike said; “I'm game if you are.” It was time to walk away.

I felt strong ending two such huge chapters of my life in that one night - and to be the one doing the ending. I'm glad it was me who left. The way I heard it, they went on to `comfort' one another for many more hours.

As Giles would say - if I shared this with him, which is about as likely as something that's never ever going to happen - this was `closure' for the various and extremely intense relationships between the three of us. I felt strong but there was also heaviness deep inside. I realized they were my past and the ache was worse than being assaulted by one of Anya's millennia old troll exes.

You want to know who won? I'll never tell. Since the night of many orgasms there's not been much between Spike and me. There's history there, and friendship. But what he did, letting me mourn for a year, I guess I'm still kinda bitter. The way he is with Faith doesn't help. Yeah, they tried to pound one another into a bloody pulp right before Scythe Share, but in our world that's the first step towards life long friendship. Now they're partners in crime, sometimes actual crime. Wes says; “If Spike would stop colluding with Faith's self-destructive behavioural patterns she might have rather more success in trying to turn her life around.”

At night, when Toby's in bed, or during the day when he's in lessons; Faith drinks. A lot. The other night, she knew I'd been checking out her cleavage as she leaned over a tombstone to stake a pair of vamps. So she invited me back to her room post-patrol. But during the twenty minute walk home she consumed three quarters of a bottle of Jack Daniels. There's been a lot less sex recently. That's a brand new and sure sign in Faith that something is really wrong. You know she's hot as hell but slurring - not so sexy. Guess who bought her the whiskey? The same person who bought the whole case of Jack Daniels currently being `secretly' stored in the staff common room. Yep; Spike. Here I am trying with everything in my power to keep Faith in mine and Toby's lives and to prevent her toppling over the edge of cliff self-destruct and Spike's literally handing her the booze.

If she didn't have Slayer constitution, Faith could easily have drunk herself to death by now. Her worst nightmare is becoming like her mother but alcoholism's genetic. Xander told me that. He also said Spike's an enabler. Xander knows all about this stuff because. Besides the twenty odd years living with his semi-inebriated parents, after we survived Sunnydale, his uncle Rory decided to go sober. That was a fun time in the life of Xander. If you count being in mourning, and half blind, while being bombarded with newly sober familial revelations, as fun.

Don't get me wrong, Faith's doing better since all the bonding with me and Toby. In the past, the only people Faith was officially connected to were her mom and whichever pseudo step dad was her drinking buddy at the time. They hurt her worse than anyone. To her, commitment and family are not Sunday waffles or even being dragged along to dull gallery exhibits. For Faith, family is drunkenly selling your kid for vodka money. To her, commitment is telling flurries of lies to your partner of the moment so they leave you to pass out in peace while said partner is left alone with your kid. That's why the closer we become the more she backs away from me.

But Toby waits for her after she's done teaching `Hand to Hand Combat II.' He silently sits beside her as she polishes her boots in the courtyard and noiselessly reads comic books over her shoulder. Toby's not allowed inside the bars, not that Faith would even take him into the liquor store. I like that there are limited hours when she can drink. But Faith is usually wasted within half an hour of Toby's bedtime. Even if she and I don't work out, I have some hope that despite the drinking she'll survive to be around for him. Faith's only just begun to admit that no matter how many lethal demons she takes down, Slayers are not immune to pain. Now she's lifted the lid of her boiling pot of childhood pain and let out some steam. Sorry nice mental images now of various ways Faith lets off steam. Mmm. Oh, yeah, sorry.

Sometimes, while they're on an errand getting the school catapult re-sized, Toby will break their silence; “Faith, I thought of another thing.”

She told me she dreads those moments, but always says quietly; “Tell me what they did Kid.” Toby then tells her stories of being sent to school without lunch and being left alone in the house when he was five. Five! I get so angry, I mean, I wouldn't let Dawnie stay alone when she was fifteen. Ok fine, so maybe I was a little over-protective but no hell gods are after Toby. Yet.

Faith usually responds along the lines of; “If I ever met your parents, know what I'd do?”

“No.” Toby says with an excited thrill in his eyes. I worry that growing up here he's enjoying violence a little too much. Don't give me that look.

“First I'd roundhouse their heads.” Faith then illustrates her comment with an unlucky trash can. “Then, I'd southpaw their jaws.” This time lamp-post flyers are the unfortunate victims of her demonstration.

“Would there be blood?” Toby will ask, a little too enthusiastically.

“Would there?” Faith also, says this with too much conviction, in my opinion. “There'd be more blood than you've ever seen Kid. Hell, there'd be more blood than I've ever seen.”

Ok, so Faith's parenting style isn't exactly conventional. But every once in a while, she extends her conversations with Toby; “Hey Kid, I thought of another thing.”

“Tell me what she did Faith.” He still says her name with such reverence.

“Well this one time right, I was only knee high to a grasshopper and my mom, she goes out for a pack of smokes right. And you know how long she's gone?” Toby shakes his head. “Four days Kid. Four lousy days. An' do ya think there was any food in the house?” Toby shakes his head extra emphatically. “Not a crumb.” Faith goes on to demonstrate what she'd do to her mom. There's not a mailbox or payphone in Cleveland that's safe.

I learn all this from Toby who gives me a blow by blow account of their conversations every night before bed. Faith always finds me at some point in the day to recount the recent horrors she's learned of Toby's past. She'll sling an arm across my shoulder or lean against me as she speaks, like she wants to comfort me and shield me from the pain. But it's not me who needs comforting. Very occasionally she'll say; “Toby's bastard father once tried to strangle him. My mom tried that once but she was too wasted to finish the job.” I want to sob when she tells me but if I so much as pat her hand or stroke her hair she immediately flinches away from me. But I haven't lost all hope. “B, I always thought it was my fault, the stuff she did and what she let them do. I was the toughest kid on our block so I told everyone I was five by five. But maybe I wasn't. She tried to choke me. That ain't right B. No matter what I got up to. It ain't right.” She won't let me do anything for her, so I just nod, which leaves me aching for her all the more. “B, all these years I've been wicked angry at the wrong person.”

“Me?” Ok, so the wrong time to tease her, but it's Faith.

“No.” She can't meet my eyes. “Me. If anyone was bad inside it was my mom. I was just a kid. Like if I did something that got Toby hurt. Not that I'd ever do that.”

“I know.” I smile at her.

“But if I did, it would be my fault not his.” Faith is finally realizing that she was only a kid, which has at least started to make her feel better about herself. She's become less self destructive but also sadder, more solitary. I miss her.

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