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Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground	By : cousinjean Category: AtS/BtVS Crossovers > Het - Male/Female > Buffy/Spike(William) > Buffy/Spike(William) Views: 2581 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS) or Angel, the Series (AtS); nor any of the characters from them. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Dead Leaves & the Dirty Ground

by cousinjean

Chapter Eleven -- My Disease

RATING: NC-17
PREVIOUSLY: Angel flipped out and took off on his own after finding out about Connor. Wes and Lilah took the opportunity to catch some quality alone time. Meanwhile, Spike took a quick dip in an Egyptian river.

A/N: It's another Matchbox 20 title, thanks to fenwic.

The NC-17 portion of this chapter is probably pretty tame by a lot of standards, but it's the smuttiest thing I've ever written. So be warned, and please be kind.

~*~

Willow dumped her shopping bags on the counter and dug through them for the maps she'd bought. She unfolded one and spread it out on the kitchen floor, then selected some candles and powders from the cabinet. "Dawn!" she called, settling on her knees and placing the candles around the map. "Got a minute?"

"I'm getting ready for work!" she shouted back from the bathroom.

"This'll only take a sec'. Promise!" It took a moment, but Dawn eventually padded into the kitchen. "Hey, hand me that lighter," Willow said, pointing at the bar.

Dawn grabbed the lighter and knelt on the other side of the map. "Locator spell?"

"Yep. Here." She poured one of the powders into Dawn's palm, then lit the candles before pouring the other into her own hand. "Ready?"

Dawn nodded.

Willow closed her eyes, chanted the incantation, and blew. When she opened her eyes, the map was alight with tiny green sparks. They spread out haphazardly from L.A., but one branch grew in number and intensity as it moved north. A few sparks also lit up Arizona and Nevada. And any of them could be Buffy and Spike. Willow frowned. "It's getting worse."

"Guess the crack team of Angel, Wolfram & Hart isn't doing such a bang up job of keeping a lid on the 'contagion'." Dawn made air quotes around the special ops team's favorite euphemism. Then she pointed. "What's that?"

Willow leaned closer, the better to read the teeny font most of the town names were printed in. A significantly large congregation of sparks had built up near San Francisco, just outside of San Jose in-she squinted-Campbell. "That can't be good."

"They're really close," said Dawn.

Willow shook her head and blew out the map. "Y'know, maybe you shouldn't go to work tonight."

Dawn's eyebrows shot up. "You're kidding, right? This is only my third night."

"Yeah, but-""Willow, I'm still training. I have to go." She tossed her hair over her shoulder. "So there's a handful of vampires camped out in the area. Hello, grew up in Sunnydale? You could find scarier things than that on any given night at the Bronze."

"But none of those things were ever out to get you."

Dawn's eyebrows managed to go even higher.

"Well, okay, except for that one hellgod. And Harmony. But Buffy's not going to come to your rescue this time, Dawn. Neither will Spike."

"They taught me not to need rescuing," she said, her face going all stoic. "Anyway, we don't have any reason to think they'd be after me."

"Sure. Just because most of the vampires we've known made it a point to kill their families�"

"Gee. I really needed that reminder." Dawn stood up, the line of her mouth grim but resolved. "I have to go to work, Willow. I'll be fine."

"Fine." Willow stood up. "But take this." She rummaged through her bags and took out a small box.

"What is it? Some kind of scapula?"

"Not exactly." She opened the box and pulled out a silver chain with a small, ornate vial for a pendant. "This is a little more fashionable, and a lot less stinky.""Pretty. What's in it?"

"Holy water."

Dawn rolled her eyes and pulled out the cross she already wore around her neck. "I'm already covered in the anti-vamp bling department. And there's also my rosary keychain, and the pocket crucifix Xander gave me�"

"True. But Spike's never really been one to let something as piddly as 3rd-degree burns stand in his way, and somehow I doubt this new and something opposite of improved Buffy will either." She unfastened the chain and hooked it around Dawn's neck. "But I've never seen a vamp that doesn't at least flinch at a face full of holy water. Think of it as vampire mace."

Dawn fingered the vial for a moment. "Sure. If it'll make you feel better." She slipped it inside her top.

Willow smiled. "It already has."

Dawn smiled back, until she glanced at the clock. "Crap. I'm gonna be late!" She ran for the bathroom.

"Sorry!" Willow called. "Just tell 'em it's all your roommate's fault!" With a sigh, she picked up the map and reached for the phone. Angel's cell phone number put her into his voice mail. After leaving a message, she hung up and dialed Xander. "Hey," she said when he answered. "You said I should call you when things started to get hairy. So how's this for hairy?"

***

Vampires weren't exactly famous for their loyalty. Spike leaned against the rail of the catwalk they'd made their quarters, pondering this as he blew smoke out over the empty warehouse that sprawled before him. He'd seen it again and again: allies, lovers, families, supposed friends� didn't matter what they called themselves. Fact was, vampires were happy to sell each other out to save their own skin. Hell, Darla and Angelus had made it into an art form. It was never personal. It was survival. Well, sometimes it was just fun. But there were never any hard feelings-not usually. Even he stopped taking it personally the umpteenth time Drusilla betrayed him.

Still, he'd stayed loyal to her, in his own way, for as long as he could. It wasn't hard. He'd loved her so much.

Just another thing that kept him from ever quite fitting in.

When he fell for Buffy, his concept of loyalty got redefined. Not to mention tested. The oddest thing was that it wasn't just her. It extended to her family. Even her friends benefited from it. And that was all before the soul. Before the Shanshu. Before he was christened a champion.

And he threw it all away for her. He undid all they'd worked for, sacrificed for, because he couldn't fathom not trying to save her.

That was loyalty.

But all that was in another life. So where did his loyalties lie now? With this Buffy, his lover and sire; or with the old one, the one who was to be his wife� the one he'd been too late to save?

She was turning out to be fairly typical, as vampires go. She reminded him of himself, with her lust for violence, the thrill she took from killing. Wasn't surprising, really. He'd always suspected she had that in her back when she was killing demons, buried under all that morality and self-righteous indignation. They were still of a kind, him and his Slayer-sire.

As he watched her enter the warehouse below, he wondered how long it would be before she betrayed him. Moreover, he wondered if he had it in him to betray her first.

Back from the hunt early, she was. And alone to boot. That was a relief. He'd had about all he could take of her new pet and his incessant questions. The boy was nothing if not eager to learn. Obsessive, too. Spike had made the mistake of telling him about some of his and Angelus's old exploits, and ever since Connor had wanted to talk of nothing but. It was why Spike had opted to sit out tonight's excursion. Well, that and the way the boy practically came all over himself whenever he saw Buffy.

At least she still only looked at Spike that way. The way she was looking at him now. Even at this height, he could see how flushed she was from her meal, how pink her skin. Her eyes locked onto his as she ascended the stairs. They spoke of a different kind of hunger.

"Where are the others?" he asked when she reached the catwalk.

She shrugged. "Hunting. Playing. Keeping themselves occupied, hopefully. I told them not to come back for a couple of hours."

"Sure that's wise? All it takes is one moron to lead trouble back to us."

"That's why I didn't pick morons." She slinked over to him in that casual, "I'm not really trying to be sexy but by the time I reach you you'll want to throw me on the floor and have me right there" way of hers, fondling the railing as she went. "Anyway, I had them fan out. Sent some further north to draw Angel's attention. If he's even still paying attention."

"Believe me, he is."

"Well if that's so, you and I don't exactly stand out anymore." She'd reached him by then, and trailed a finger down his chest. "It's neat how this vampire thing works. I turn two, then they turn two, and so on, and so on�" As she spoke she pushed him backwards onto a crate behind him and settled herself on his lap. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and smiled. "It's like evil shampoo."

Spike caught his lip in his teeth to stifle a grin as he gazed at her.

"Why do you look at me like that?"

His head tilted and his eyes narrowed to show his confusion. "Like what?"

Buffy straightened a little in his lap. "Like you're all nostalgic."

He shook his head. "Don't know what you mean, Love." He sniffed. "So when's your little general getting back?"

"God, could you sound more jealous?"

"Not jealous," he protested, resting a hand on her knee. "Just glad for a break from the little tosser." His hand slid up her thigh, and he bent to graze his lips along her neck. "Happy to have you to myself for a while."

"He won't be back tonight." She lifted her fingers to his cheek. "I left him in the city. Oh!" Twisting in his lap, she grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him back. "Guess what?"

"Eh?"

"We found her."

"Her who?"

Buffy slapped him lightly on the chest. "Don't play dumb. The Key."

"You mean your kid sis? Didn't know she was lost."

"Well, we guessed that she'd be staying with Willow. But now we know." She settled back against him, snaking her arms around his neck. "Even better, she's waitressing at this caf� in Haight-Ashbury. I mean, really, could she make it any easier for us? Having to storm the witch's castle was one thing, but now we can just walk right in and take her." She punctuated her speech with little kisses on his neck and along his jaw, finishing at his mouth. Spike's arms slid up her back and pulled her closer. Not that she could get much closer. Buffy broke off the kiss and smiled, all arrogant and smug-like. "Tomorrow's the night."

"Congratulations," he said flatly.

She frowned. "You could at least pretend to be excited."

Spike sighed. "You want to open up a rift and let all your hell-mates out of their cage? Sounds keen. Trust me; I'm giddy on the inside."

"Liar," she said, poking out that pouty lip. She started in for another kiss, but Spike stuck up a hand to block her.

"Tell me one thing," he said. "What happens to Dawn?"

A tiny crease formed between her brows. "What do you think?"

"Refresh my memory."

She gave a tiny shrug. "She bleeds, the portal opens. She runs out of blood, it closes."

"And she dies."

"Oh my God." Buffy sat up sharply, her hands falling away from him. "You're worried about her."

Spike could only look away from her.

A disbelieving laugh came from Buffy. "Okay, how about this? Before she bleeds out completely, you can turn her and keep your precious little Nibblet with you forever and ever. Is that what you want?"

"Not exactly," he muttered.

"Are you kidding me with this?" She jumped out of his lap and turned away in disgust, moving to lean against the rail. "You know, you always were too human to be worth a damn as a vampire."

"Once upon a time, you liked that about me."

"Who says I ever liked you?"

For a moment he just glared at the back of her head. Then he sprang to his feet. Grabbed her, spun her around and slammed her against the rail. His hands closed over hers and held her captive. He stared down at her, his face hardened in anger, but as she lifted her chin in defiance and gazed back at him with lustful eyes, he melted. He dipped his mouth to her ear and sucked at the soft spot beneath it. "Always liked what I can do to you," he rumbled, his hands moving to her tiny waist.

Her only response was a happy sigh, her fingers dancing up his arms and threading through his hair. He savored her throat, ravaged her cleavage, eliciting giggles here and there as he nipped at her skin. He unlaced her halter and let it drift down to the warehouse floor below. As he lavished attention on her breasts, she tugged impatiently at his shirt, and he paused long enough to let her pull it over his head and send it floating down to join her top.

If his hands were the advance guard, forging a path and routing a map of her body, his mouth followed behind as a decimating force, tearing down the barriers of anger, doubt and suspicion as it tasted her, trailing its way to where her defenses were weakest. Spike got down on his knees-funny position for an attack-and unfastened her trousers. Slowly he unzipped them, one notch at a time. He paused to look up at her. Already she was gripping the rail, eyes closed, licking her lips in anticipation. He couldn't help but smile as he slid her britches over her hips and down her legs. When she stood completely naked before him, he paused to drink in the sight of her, before affixing his mouth to drink her.

She gasped as his tongue flicked against her clit, and breathed a low, satisfied moan as it parted her lips and slid up to taste the inside of her. His hands gripped backs of her thighs and spread them further. She whispered his name, her fingers stroking his hair and her hips tilting to improve his access. Everything about her at that moment was soft.

Then, to his surprise, she gripped him by the hair and yanked his head away. Placing the ball of her foot against his shoulder, she kicked him away and sent him sprawling onto the pallet of old blankets they were calling their bed. She lowered herself to the floor and crawled up him, pushing him onto his back. When she reached his face she ran her tongue over his lips, tasting herself there, before thrusting it into his mouth. Her hand slid down his body to the bulge in his jeans and gave it a squeeze. "I like what I can do to you."

"Mutual," was all he could manage while she unbuttoned his jeans. She tugged them off with a lot more force and a lot less care than he'd taken with her trousers. Then she bent toward his erection, her pink little tongue snaking out to tease him before she raised her head and looked at him, seeming to think better of it. With a sly smile, she climbed off him.

He heard himself whimper in protest. Then she turned around and straddled his chest. Oh, yes. That would do as well. He cupped his hands around her smooth, perfect little ass and guided her over his face; then he got back to work. It was all he could do to keep at it when he felt her lips around his cock. The sensations threatened to overwhelm him, the way she writhed against him, the vibrations of her moans against his most sensitive skin, her teeth scraping him gently, then more insistently as she sucked him.

Then she stopped. Spike kept going. She rocked against him, her moans turning to screams as she poured her pleasure into his mouth. He drank it eagerly, forgetting his own pleasure and drawing out her orgasm as long as he could. Finally, she relaxed against him. He thought they were done. He began to wonder if he could turn her around and fuck her or if he'd have to finish himself off when he heard her growl. Teeth sunk into the juncture of his groin and thigh. At the same time her fist wrapped around his shaft and squeezed until he exploded. He blacked out for a moment. When he came to he could still hear himself screaming.

For a long time he just lay there, panting, dazed and in awe. Buffy rolled off and lay beside him, her fingers lazily combing through the hair on his legs. After a while she playfully stroked his face with her toes, and then draped her leg across his chest. "So, we've got that much at least," she said.

It took some effort, but he raised his head to look at her. "Is that all we've got?"

She raised up on her elbows. "You tell me." She looked serious. And a little scared.

"Come here," Spike said at last.

She complied by sitting up and turning around, then snuggling up beside him. He held her tight, and she traced some unidentifiable pattern over his heart. Felt like old times.

"Do you love me?" she asked after a while.

"'Course I do." The question wasn't whether he loved her; it was which incarnation he loved more.

She smiled, satisfied, and nestled against his shoulder. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep. Even so, he lay there long after she'd stopped moving, relishing the feel of her next to him. Tonight, life was good if you were an evil thing. He wished they could stay like this forever.

Spike sighed, long and heavy. Then he gently rolled her away. He got up and got dressed, taking a last look at her as he pulled on his coat. He covered her with a blanket and brushed her hair out of her face. He wanted to kiss her one last time. But he didn't dare. A kiss might wake her.

He stole out of the warehouse mere moments before the others were due to arrive, and took the truck into the city. He knew which promises were his to keep.

***

"No, Willow, I'm sorry, I don't know where he is. Nor do I know when he'll return. Did you leave him a voice message?" Wesley glanced over at the bed, where a very naked Lilah propped herself up on her elbow and watched him, a wry smile gracing her lips. He turned away, the better to focus on his phone call, but could still see her in the dresser's mirror. He closed his eyes. "That many, eh? � That close? Yes, that is cause for concern. I'll post a guard to watch her. �Yes, I'll tell him. I'll do everything I can to locate Angel. I'll let you know when I learn something." He turned off his phone with a sigh.

"What did Witchie-poo want?"

Wesley glanced up at Lilah's reflection. "She says vampires are amassing just outside the city. She's worried about Buffy's sister. As well she should be." As he lowered his eyes, his gaze fell upon the newspaper. The missing boy's picture graced the front page. "It was learning this Connor's name that set Angel off. I wonder what the connection is."

"Does it matter?"

"Knowing certainly couldn't hurt." Wesley turned to face the real Lilah. "Not that I'm asking you to tell me." He turned his phone back on and dialed. "This is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," he identified himself to the operative at the other end. "I need to see if you can locate Angel through the signal on his cell phone. �Well, he'll have to turn it back on eventually. Keep watch and notify me the moment he does. One other thing. Send someone to guard Dawn Summers. She's working at Nordaggio's in Haight-Ashbury. Tell them to dress in plain clothes and be discreet. We don't want to alarm the girl." He hung up the phone. "I should probably go myself. But seeing me would probably just anger her and cause her to do something rash."

"You sure don't want to piss her off." Lilah fingered the bridge of her nose. "Little girl has a mean right cross."

Wesley smiled. "You do know how to make an impression on people."She shrugged. "It's a gift."

He looked over at the window. "I should at least be out there looking for Angel."

"Can't you play the hero without him? It's not like he's a superhero anymore."

"No, but he knows Spike and Buffy better than I do. We may have been constantly one step behind them when he was on their trail, but at least we were on their trail. Since Angel took off we've been completely lost."

She snorted. "Since he took off we've been right here in this room."

"Yes, well. There is that." Wesley hung his head and rubbed the back of his neck.

Lilah sat up. "You want to ask me."

He looked up at her. "But I won't."

"No, of course you won't."

Wesley breathed another sigh and started gathering up his clothes. "This has been heavenly, but it's time to get back to work.""Heavenly," she repeated. "Yeah, that's a good word for it." She stood up and walked over to him.

As she reached for him, he tried to protest. "Lilah, we haven't got t-" But she cut him off with a kiss. In spite of his better judgment, he dropped his pants back on the floor and wrapped her in his arms. She cupped his face in her hands and pulled back to look at him. Tracing the lines of his face, she smiled. It wasn't the droll smile he was used to. Instead it held sadness and resignation.

"Lilah-""The boy is his son."

Wesley blinked at her, startled. Something inside him clicked, like a small fissure opening up in a dam. He pulled away from her and went to pick up the paper. "Connor," he said, and the fissure became a large crack. "Angel's son." Wesley touched the faint scar on his neck, and the dam burst. "I remember," he said, turning back to Lilah. "I remember it a-"

She was gone. "Lilah?" He went to the spot where he'd left her. "Lilah!" he called, but he knew it was futile.

As Wesley got dressed, he wondered which circle of Hell was reserved for those in breach of contract.

~*~
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Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground

Dead Leaves & the Dirty Ground