Hank Summers stood in the doorway to the kitchen, wineglass in hand, looking from person to person in confusion. Buffy gave Spike a pained glance, then looked to her father. "Dad, um, I-I'd like you to meet my-my fiancé, William Suffolk," she said nervously, wringing her hands. "Spike, this is my Dad, Hank."
"It's good to meet you, sir," Spike said from where he was standing. He gave Hank a wry smile. "I would shake hands, however, I'd be afraid you'd die from the stench. Billy and I were..." He wracked his brain for an excuse, but Billy preempted him.
"My Mom threw out my knife," Billy spoke up. He pulled an old blade from his coat pocket and set it on the island counter in front of him. He shot Spike a grin. "I didn't want to lose it because it's a reminder that my life doesn't suck as bad as some dudes."
Spike blinked in surprise when he saw the knife. It was one of his when he was still mortal and living in the alley in London. The vampire figured Billy must have picked it up when they were sitting under Spike's old make-shift home.
"Yes, well...," Hank trailed off, confusion still evident on his face. He looked from Spike to Angel and back to Spike again. "Did you just say that Angel was your father?"
"Er..." Spike glanced at his sire. "I said like a father, Mr. Summers. Angelus practically raised me after my own father died." Of course, Spike had been the one to kill his natural father, but there was no reason to go into that tale.
"Aren't you a little young to have raised...Spike, is it?" Hank asked Angel.
"I'm much older than I look, Hank," Angel replied. Billy snickered and the dark-haired vampire shot him a puzzled look. The teen smiled innocently.
Joyce decided to step in before more questions could be asked by her ex-husband. "Why don't we let the boys get cleaned up? I'm afraid my linoleum is going to peel if they don't," she said. She turned to Angel. "Angel, will you...?"
Angel nodded to the silently asked request. He moved to Buffy and placed his hand on her lower back, lightly propelling her back towards the dining room. By this action, Hank had no choice but to reenter the dining room as well.
"Billy, do you think you should call your Mom?" Joyce asked.
"Man, she is going to be one pissed off old woman," Billy said, shaking his head no. "I think I'll pass."
"Ring your Mum, Billy," Spike said, his tone brooking no argument. Billy groaned unhappily and slid off the stool, heading for the phone on the wall. Spike gave Joyce an exasperated smile. "Kids."
"Are you two alright?" Joyce said with motherly concern.
"Yes," Spike answered honestly. He wrinkled his nose. "Except for the fact that the smell might kill me."
"Why don't you go upstairs and take a shower," Joyce suggested. "I'll ask Rupert and Willow to take Billy home."
Spike nodded, then looked at Billy when the teen hung up the phone. "Everything okay?"
"Yeah," Billy replied sullenly. "I'm suppose to go right home."
Spike's lips curled up in a smile at the dark-haired boy's typical teenage response. "Don't worry, mate. If you have any problems with your Mum, just give me a bell."
Billy nodded and picked up the knife, putting it back into his pocket. Joyce had left the room to speak with Giles, leaving the two alone. "Hey Spike?" Billy said, meeting Spike's eyes squarely. "I won't forget, man."
"Neither will I, Billy," Spike said. He had learned more about himself during their not-so-excellent adventure than he'd learned over two centuries of living. And he'd never felt so grateful about the man he was now -- even though he was a whipped nancyboy who was in love with the Slayer and had a souled poofball for a sire. "Neither will I."
Spike gave a wry grin to the smiley-face he'd drawn with his finger in the steamed-up mirror where his reflection would normally be if he was still human, then ran his fingers through his damp hair to comb it back. It was probably going to curl wildly because it was longer than usual and he had nothing with which to slick it back.
He no longer stank, thankfully, and was dressed in a pair of jeans and black tee-shirt from the stash of clothing he kept at Buffy's house in case of post-slaying emergencies. He didn't help her with her normal patrol, not wanting to turn too much into Angel, but he readily assisted her against other demons and Hellmouth creatures of the non-vampire variety. He liked his wife-to-be as she was -- walking, talking and shagging him into utter ecstacy every night.
With a final glance at the smiley-face, Spike left the bathroom and headed downstairs. His eyes immediately sought and found his Slayer sitting in the living room, and he smiled at her. The smile he received in return made him want to pick her up, take her somewhere private and make love at her all night long. However, he doubted her father would approve of him doing that right then.
"Sorry to keep you," he apologized. He noted that everyone save immediate family had gone.
"That's okay, Spike," Joyce said, rising to her feet. "I'll just go heat everything up in the microwave."
"I'll help you, Joyce," Angel volunteered, having risen when she stood. As he passed his childe as he followed Joyce, he whispered, "Brother, boarding school in London until you came to Sunnydale."
Spike nodded imperceptively and continued to cross the room to seat himself on the couch beside Buffy. He automatically took her hand, entwining their fingers, her simple engagement ring pressing lightly against his skin.
"We were just talking about how Angel let you go to boarding school in London from junior high until graduating from high school," Buffy said, trying to give him his made-up history as naturally as possible. "Which is why you have an accent and he doesn't. Plus, the fifteen year age difference between you guys, which was why he didn't live with you until after your parents died. And is why you think of him like your father-"
"Buffy, I think he knows all that," Hank interrupted. He gave the couple a smile, then focused on Spike. "Tell me, how did you get the nickname 'Spike?'"
"I spiked the punch on a dare at an important function when I was at the boarding school," Spike lied smoothly, incorporating the new made-up history with what he had invented before in preparation for this meeting. "'Course I got in quite a bit of trouble for that little stunt..."
"Angel did say that you were the rebellious sort," Hank said.
"And I'll admit to that up until I met Buffy," Spike said. He tried to keep the disgusted expression from his face after his stomach rolled for saying something so utterly and horribly sappy. Buffy, however, gave him a look that said 'who are you and what have you done to my vampire?'
"I'm just going to come right out and say it," Hank said, leaning forward slightly in his chair. "Don't you two think you're a little young to be getting married? Buffy, you haven't even finished school yet. You have at least a few more years if you want to get your Ph.D. in Psychology like you said you wanted to."
"I'll still be going to school after we're married," Buffy said.
"And how are you going to afford it?" Hank asked bluntly.
"I'll be paying for her education, sir," Spike replied. Hank arched his brow skeptically. "I'm 'independently wealthy' or whatever the current term is for having a shi-," Buffy squeezed his hand tightly, "-lots of money."
"What if Buffy gets pregnant?" Hank said.
"Dad!" Buffy exclaimed, turning red.
"That's not an issue, Mr. Summers," Spike answered in a normal tone. He knew he was going to be subject to all sorts of questions from a concerned father who's daughter was going to be getting married to a man he'd never met in just over half a year. "I can't father children."
Hank had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "Oh. I'm sorry."
Spike shrugged. "That's okay. The Sla-er, Buffy and I decided if we ever do want to have children, we'll adopt." Well, they never really talked about it, but he figured that's what the choice would be. Unless she went down to the sperm bank and bought herself a pop-cicle.
"So, uh..." Hank cleared his throat. "What are you going to do once you get out of college?"
"I'm going to concentrate on making you're daughter happy," he answered. He was going to be sick. The things he did for love.
"Dinner's on the table," Joyce said, having come into the doorway to the living room.
"Thank god," Buffy muttered, releasing Spike's hand and rising to her feet.
"Echo that," Spike said, standing as well.
She glanced up at him and grimaced. "Wipe that Jack Nicholson smile off your face, will you?" she said quietly. "You're giving me the creeps."
Spike chuckled softly and followed her into the dining room. He pulled out her chair for her, then sat down beside her after she sat. Angel sat across from him with Joyce beside him and across from Buffy. Hank sat at the head of the table between the two females.
The reheated, late dinner got underway and conversation was kept light. Joyce talked about her gallery and the new exhibit that was going up the following week on Early American Artists. Buffy easily contributed to the conversation while Spike was merely a spectator. The blond vampire could have cared less about artists, so he kept stuffing his face with food he didn't need to eat until the tide of conversation turned to the wedding.
"The invitations are going out next month," Buffy said, her eyes twinkling with humor when she glanced at her betrothed. "They're really nice."
One side of Spike's mouth curled up. "That they are, ducks."
"How many people are you inviting?" Hank asked.
"Not too many," Buffy replied. "Family and some friends. Mom and I made a list up last week. I think there were like thirty?"
"That sounds about right," Joyce agreed. She smiled at Hank. "That means less cost for us."
"The wedding and reception are going to be at the Country Club, thanks to Cordelia," Buffy said. "I hadn't realized that the place would be booked for years in advance for June weddings, so we got really lucky."
Spike leaned over to whisper, "I'd have been happy to marry you at the Blue Suede Pews."
Buffy looked at him and rolled her eyes. "You are one bizarre man."
"We've made arrangements for the DJ," Joyce said, continuing the conversation. "The menu is picked," she turned to Angel and smiled with amusement, "no garlic -- and we decided on a cash bar to keep down on the number of people getting intoxicated."
"And Xander's going to be the videographer," Buffy added. "Just to get him to stop asking."
The phone rang and Buffy exchanged a quick look with her Mom. "I'll get it," the Slayer said, rising and leaving the dining room.
"Have you two picked out where you're going to honeymoon yet?" Joyce asked Spike. "Buffy's mentioned several places but never told me if you guys decided."
"It depends on if we go to France for that art seminar class over winter break," Spike replied. "She has an appointment next week with the instructor to see if she can get into the class. Then we have to arrange it with the Watcher to be gone for three weeks." He looked across the table at Angel. "Think if we were to go, you could keep the local population," he glanced at Hank and finished his question, "happy?"
"I could," Angel said.
"Guys we have to go," Buffy said quickly when she came back into the room. She met Spike's eyes. "Now."
Spike wiped off his mouth and stood. "Right."
"Where are you going?" Hank asked.
Buffy's eyes widened slightly, panicked. "Um...Willow! She's been in an accident. We're going to the hospital. Spike's driving because I don't have a licence and she's our friend."
"My car's not here, pet," Spike told her.
"I'll drive," Angel said, standing as well. He put his hand on Joyce's shoulder and squeezed lightly. "Our apologies, Joyce, for cutting this short."
"That's okay. Hank and I can entertain ourselves," Joyce said, knowing the real reason they were leaving. She looked worriedly at Buffy. "Just call me and let me know everything's alright."
"Will do, Mom," Buffy said. She kissed her father's cheek. "Bye, Dad."
"Mr. Summers, it's been a pleasure," Spike said with a polite nod of his head. He followed Buffy out of the room, with Angel trailing behind them.
"Do you think we should go, too?" Hank asked Joyce after they had left.
"No," Joyce replied. "We'll just be in the way. Come on, you can help me clear the table."
"Nagaranth," Giles said, a faint blush covering his cheeks as he read the information in the book. Buffy, Spike, Angel and the rest of the Scooby Gang were gathered at the high school library, listening to what the Watcher had to say about the new demon in town. Books were scattered about the table, indicating that Xander, Cordelia, Willow and Giles had researched the threat before calling the Slayer.
"Are you sure?" Angel asked.
"Why don't I like how you said that?" Xander commented to Angel.
"Y-Yes, I am certain," Giles said. He pushed up his glasses and cleared his throat. "There is enough information to-to-to pinpoint that it is this particular demon."
"Well, just tell me how to kill it so we can get back to my father," Buffy said.
"You must stab it in it's third eye," Giles said.
"Sounds easy enough for our Slay-gal," Xander said.
"It's not," Willow said, her face turning the color of her hair. "The third eye only opens when...when..."
"When the Nagaranth orgasms," Angel finished bluntly. "Rupert, we need to kill this demon and quickly. Normal humans won't survive an encounter with him."
"I'm not a normal human," Buffy pointed out.
"Buffy, you have to make the Nagaranth orgasm before you can kill it," Angel said to her.
"She'd have to have sex with a demon?" Cordelia said. She looked between Spike and Angel. "Wait, never mind. She should be used to it by now."
Spike took the book from Giles and read the information on the Nagaranth. "Slayer, I'm not letting this thing get near you," he growled when he was finished.
"I have to kill it. It's my job," Buffy said.
"I'll do it," Angel said.
"But I thought you said Nagaranth was a him," Cordelia said.
"He is," Giles said.
"Okay, that's a picture I did not want to imagine," Xander said.
"Angel, what about your soul?" Buffy asked.
Angel gave her a dry smile. "I don't think that's a worry in this instance."
"Forget it," Spike said to his sire. "I am not going to let you hurt Buffy again."
"Do you seriously think my bending over for Nagaranth is going to give me a moment of true happiness?" Angel asked incredulously.
"It only takes a single moment," Spike replied. "You could take your mind off getting buggered by thinking about someone else doing the buggerin'..."
"Spike is right," Giles said. "It is too risky to take that sort of chance with your soul."
"So it's back to me again," Buffy said.
"No," Spike said firmly. "I'll do it."
"Spike, I don't-" Buffy started to say. He cut her off with a sharp glare and a growl. "Okay, okay. You'll do it."
"Right," Spike said. He handed Giles back the book. "Keep everyone inside until I kill this git."
He walked over to Buffy, grabbed her and smashed his lips down on hers in a hard kiss. Then he abruptly released her and left the library without looking back, his duster billowing slightly behind him.
"This is going to hurt," Spike muttered to himself when he saw the Nagaranth in the demon flesh.
The Nagaranth was extremely tall and built like a football player, with blue and grey splotchy skin. Two large, black horns curled out from the top of the demon's head, like a Minotaur's horns, and they came to razor sharp points at the ends. The rest of his appearance was humanoid, only more exaggerated, especially the extremely large, hard cock that jutted from the Nagaranth's groin. It was an angry blue in color, swollen and about the same size as Spike's forearm.
"The things I do for that girl," Spike continued to mutter to himself as he began to strip out of his clothing. He had found the Nagaranth wandering around one of the parks near a cemetery, scaring humans into fleeing. The blond vampire's plan was to get the demon's attention and lead him to a more secluded place not only to kill it, but so that the police didn't show up at an inopportune time.
Completely nude and carrying a knife hidden in his hand, with the blade pressed flat against his wrist, Spike sauntered out of his hiding spot and whistled at the Nagaranth. He continued towards the demon as the blue male turned and saw him. With his other hand, he began to stroke his flaccid cock into hardness, wanting to insure that the demon followed him. He'd read in Giles' book that the Nagaranth had a super-defined sense of smell, which undoubtably was why he was in the park looking to find another to copulate with. Teenagers making-out created a very strong, heady smell of arousal.
Certain that he had the Nagaranth's attention, Spike changed courses and picked up his pace slightly, leading the demon out of the park and into the cemetery. A nice, dark, dank mausoleum was nearby and the blond vampire made sure that the demon saw him go inside. A quick survey of the place by Spike revealed a single sarcophagus in the center. He walked over to it, turned to face the doorway, and leaned back casually against the cold stone to wait. His right hand continued to lightly stroke his shaft.
The Nagaranth entered the mausoleum and the demon's nostrils flared at the scent of Spike's arousal. As he came forward, Spike turned around and laid his chest down on the cold stone of the sarcophagus, his left hand with the knife at an angle by his face, his right gripping the side of the lid on the stone coffin. The blond vampire felt the demon's large hands on his buttocks, separating his cheeks and he closed his eyes.
Spike's true face came forth uncontrollably and he bit into the top of his hand to muffle his scream of pain as the Nagaranth entered him. The vampire felt as though he were being split in two. He kept his yellow eyes squeezed tightly shut and tried to think of anything other than the fact that he was being ripped apart in the most tenderest of places by a demon with the cock the size of a bull's. All he had to do was wait until he heard the specified bellow the Nagaranth would make as the demon came and it would be over.
He tried to picture in his mind that it was Buffy buggering him, using a strap on. He easily saw her face, considering she was all he ever really thought about. He saw her surprised pleasure the first time she thrust into him from behind, the nub strategically placed on the sex toy hitting her clit with her action. He saw the slow, feminine smile that appeared on her face as she eased into a steady rhythm, knowing that she felt powerful and in control, dominant.
His fantasy was ruined, however, by the sudden piercing nails into the flesh of his hips. He snarled in pain, his own blood filling his mouth again as he bit further into the top of his hand. He'd better be thoroughly thanked for days -- and days -- for doing this. Not that he would have let Buffy even come close to the demon. Or his wanker of a sire, for that matter. He may not have any affinity for the poof, but the Angelus he remembered was just sick enough to get off on something like this, and he liked the souled version much better nowadays.
The Nagaranth let out a loud, inhuman howl and Spike ripped his fangs from the back of his hand in order to turn. He awkwardly twisted in a way a contortionist would envy and he saw the predicted third eye right in the center of the demon's chest. With a growl, Spike slammed his arm back, the blade in his hand burying into the completely white eye.
The demon yanked out of him and staggered backwards, his bellow of pleasure turning into a scream of pain. Spike turned and kicked at the knife hilt, smashing it further into the Nagaranth. He watched with satisfaction as the demon went into death throws. When the Nagaranth finally was still, Spike grabbed one of the horns and viciously ripped it from the demon's head.
Resting the black horn on his shoulder, and with blood running from his torn flesh and down the back of his legs, the blond vampire walked stiffly out of the mausoleum.
And straight into the arms of Buffy.
"Slayer?!" Spike exclaimed, surprised to find himself being hugged tightly by his fiancee's arms around his bare waist.
"Are you okay?" Buffy asked.
"I'm fine, luv," he answered. "But what are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay inside?"
"Since when do I listen to you?" Buffy replied, smiling up at him, her eyes full of worry.
Spike let the horn drop to the ground and wrapped his arms around his Slayer, mad at her for being there, but glad that she was. Dropping his head, he captured Buffy's mouth, his fangs cutting her lips. Tasting her blood reflamed the arousal that had vanished the moment the demon entered him. He carefully lowered them both to the grass, forcefully ignoring the pain he was in, and proceeded to make love to her right there.
His hand slid up under her camisole, cupping her full breast through the material of her bra. His lips danced upon her skin, moving from her mouth, along her jaw, down the side of her neck. He nipped at her jugular, lapping at the blood that welled under his fangs. His fingers slipped down under her bra cup, finding and playing with her pebbled nipple.
Buffy moaned under his teasing, her hands caressing his shoulders and running through his short hair. His hand left her breast and traced down her body, dipping beneath the hem of her skirt and panties to find her already slick and ready for him. Rising up on his knees, he divested her of her knickers and pushed her skirt up around her waist. His lids were heavy as he gazed down at her dark nest of curls, then raised his eyes to see her equally desirous gaze.
With a seductive curl of his lips, Spike moved up over her, nestling between her thighs perfectly. He slid easily into her hot core, growling at her in a playful manner. She giggled softly, her hands winding around his neck to pull his mouth down to hers. The kiss they shared was sensual, slow and wet and full of the burning passion that flowed always flowed between them.
Spike moved in and out of her with loving abandon, in no rush to bring either of them to orgasm. He didn't care that they were near the edge of the park, outside and in plain view for all the world to see. In fact, he wanted them to see. He wanted them to know how much he loved the woman who lay under him, her soft muscles grasping at his shaft. Of course, the sharp pain still radiating from his backside was a testament to that fact.
Eventually he slipped his hand down between them, lightly fingering her clit. He raised his head to watch her face as he pushed her to the edge. She made little mewls of pleasure, her cheeks flushed, her eyes closed tightly.
"Spike," she gasped as she orgasm, her body quivering and clamping around his hardness. He sped up his thrusts and soon followed her, spilling his cold seed deep within her hot womb with a sigh of her name. He nuzzled her neck afterwards, feeling her heart beating beneath his chest.
"Ah, sweets," Spike murmured a short time later, lifting his head and brushing his lips over hers. "The things I go through because of you."
"I love you, too, Spike," Buffy said with a tiny smile.
"I hate to tell you this, pet," he said, rising up on his forearms. "But my arse is killing me. What say we go home?"
"Your home," Buffy said. She grinned. "I don't want to try an explain why you can't sit down to my father."