The Other Half Lives
by Patti, Rae, Rob, and Spring - Summer of 2003
Chapter 9 – Working It Out
(Spring)
by Patti, Rae, Rob, and Spring - Summer of 2003
Chapter 9 – Working It Out
(Spring)
Buffy balked at the thought of Greg, on the loose in Sunnydale, with his lanthium powder. "Spike," she said, "can you . . . you know . . . sniff him out? Follow his trail?"
"What good will it do?" asked Dawn, crossing her arms. "Even if you find him and take away the powder, he can always get more."
"True," said Willow. "The Magic Box is probably the only place in town that sells lanthium powder, but there are magic shops around the world that are selling their wares on the web these days."
"Yes," said Anya, "some entrepreneurs have moved into the 21st century! If only we -"
Giles interrupted. "Dawn has a good point. Even if Spike can find Greg, then what?"
"How about first things first?" said Spike, turning around to glare at Buffy. "Let’s get this arrow out of my ass!"
"Come in the back with me," said Buffy. The others watched while Buffy, holding on to the bunched waistband of her pants to keep them from falling, helped a slow-moving Spike into the back room.
In the workout room, Spike turned his back to Buffy while she stood back and looked at the site of the injury. "Wow. This feels good," sighed Buffy. "I mean, you know, to be appreciating YOUR butt again, instead of Anya’s."
"Buffy – just yank the thing out!!"
Buffy did just that, while Spike yelped in pain. "Take your pants off and I’ll bandage it," said Buffy, throwing the bloody arrow in the trash. She went over to a corner cabinet for basic first aid supplies. She found a large safety pin and secured her own pants, and then she gathered some gauze, antiseptic, antibiotic ointment, scissors, and adhesive tape for Spike. She smiled and also picked up some warming, almond scented massage oil she sometimes used on sore muscles.
Spike was casually standing by the desk, though he had dropped his pants around his ankles. His total lack of modesty – and underwear – gave Buffy’s heart a start. She again sighed with pleasure at the return of her womanly desires. She went around behind Spike and looked at the wound. The arrowhead had not been large, and the wound, though penetrating, was nearly bloodless and fairly small.
"Take your shirt off too," said Buffy, "the bottom of it is almost touching the wound."
"It is?" said Spike as he turned toward the desk and leaned forward on it with both hands for support. "Just push my shirt up some, then."
Buffy frowned and sat down on a chair behind him to do her task. She grabbed his bare left thigh with her left hand, while she dabbed antiseptic on the wound, which was on the right. Then she slathered a bit of ointment on it. She fashioned a bandage out of the gauze and tape and was soon done with the first aid.
"Hold still," she said as she poured a bit of the massage oil on her hands and rubbed them together. She then grabbed both his thighs, and surveyed her work. "Stand up straight," she said.
The bandage bulged slightly as Spike stopped leaning on the desk and straightened - but it seemed as if it would hold. "Looks good," said Buffy. She stood up, running both oiled hands up Spike’s thighs and hips and then underneath his shirt. She hugged him from behind, resting her cheek against his back. "Mmmmm," said Buffy, moving her hands over his chest and upper abdomen, "This just feels so good. It’s good to be Buffy. Girl-Buffy."
"Glad to hear it, sincerely" said Spike. "But if you don’t mind, I’d like to pull my pants up."
"Well, maybe I do mind," Buffy teased, dropping a hand lower on his abdomen.
Spike grabbed Buffy’s wrists and pulled both her hands away from him, out from underneath his shirt. He quickly used his freedom to reach for his pants and pull them back up. He zipped them and turned around while buckling up his belt.
Buffy surprised him by throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him urgently. She pressed herself tightly against him, trying to feel every bump and line in his body. She gave him a small push downward to make him sit on the desk - the better to climb onto him. He protested then: "Buffy, Buffy - I can't sit. I'm sore."
"Oh. Right," Buffy backed away from Spike, holding on to his hand as she boldly looked him over from head to toe, letting her eyes linger on every inch of him, and allowing her body to react freely to the sights. He was male, and she was female, and she was feeling those facts steal slowly through her body via her nervous system – she was tingling right down to the soles of her feet. Oh, yes, yes, yes! Glorious, glorious womanhood.
He quietly watched her flushing face as she finished having a good look at him. She surveyed the room next. "Let's go over to the exercise mats," she said. "They're soft. And you can be on top, so no extra pressure on your tushy." Buffy needed him, and how, and now. She couldn't wait to take all the clothes off of that body; nothing would better wipe out the memory of what she had just been through, help her completely reclaim her femininity, than thoroughly enjoying her Spike.
Spike eyed Buffy speculatively. "Why don't you just use that dummy over there?" he asked, motioning with his head toward a straw man Xander had created for Buffy when the workout room had first been furnished. "What's he got underneath those pants?"
Buffy frowned and raised her eyebrows in sudden alarm. Spike was choosing now to get touchy? She couldn’t tolerate the idea that he might be saying no to her, not when she needed and wanted him so desperately. Still holding his hand, she held his eyes with her own. "You know I don't -" she hesitated. "You know I don't want that dummy . . . or any . . . I want -" she swallowed and her voice trembled slightly. "I want . . . you." She closed her eyes and lowered her head for a moment, then looked back up at him through her lashes. "I want you. You - you know that."
"Me." Spike gave Buffy a long look, smirked, then dropped her hand and walked silently to the other end of workout room toward the door to the store. Buffy's stomach immediately clenched in anger and hurt. But he simply locked the door and turned around. He removed his shirt and let it fall to the floor as he walked back toward her. Buffy's body relaxed with relief, as her pupils widened. She liked the way he was striding toward her, like a lean, hungry cat. A lean, hungry, shirtless cat. A low roaring began in her ears. She did want him. It had to be him and only him and that was nothing but the truth - even if she wasn't sure what that meant, or if it meant anything at all.
He grabbed her tightly around the waist and kissed her. He relished the way the increasingly hard, fast beat of her heart reverberated in his silent chest as he gradually held her closer and kissed her more deeply. He could almost fool himself that it was his own, faintly remembered rhythm; it stirred him to his core to feel that pounding inside again.
He picked up Buffy to take her to the exercise mats. She felt so light, so small, so warm, and so soft. And the way she moved against his bare chest, burying her face in his neck, making those tiny sounds . . . she’s mine she’s mine she’s mine, thought Spike. She's mine.
Had she learned anything from her time in a man's skin? Found out about these feelings of power and helplessness? About this heady feeling of being in control and the terrible fear of losing all control? About being the puppet-master and the puppet? About how a woman could just wash over a man until he'd do or say anything? To anybody, anytime? Make him wish for things he shouldn’t - it didn't matter. If she wanted him, she had him –always. But definitely, he would be on top this time. He would do it fast but right, his way. She’s mine.
Out on the storeroom floor, Giles and The Scoobies weren't thinking about Buffy or Spike. Oblivious to the physical workout going on in the workout room, they had been having a discussion about Greg - exercising their brains, not their bodies. But they were getting nowhere fast.
"No, it's not like there's a spell we can do to keep him from doing spells," said Willow, sighing. "There are probably other girls in town who have rejected him the way Buffy did, or at least he thinks there might be girls in the future - and he wants to have a supply of that lanthium powder. You know, to do the same thing to them he did to Buffy. The bastard."
Xander frowned. "That's one bitter guy." He shook his head. "I mean, I've had my share of rejection, but I've never been fool enough to take things that far."
Giles smirked. "No. As I recall, you were twice the fool it took to do a love spell that sent every female in Sunnydale after you. All because Cordelia had broken up with you, wasn’t it?"
"Exception noted," Xander nodded agreeably, smiling at the memory of Willow in his bed, and Buffy naked under her very, very short trench coat. "And wait," he said, "I’m finally having an idea! Yes!"
"Congratulations," said Giles.
Xander ignored the jibe. "What if we help Greg find a real girlfriend? I mean, a girl who won't reject him."
"I'm not doing any love spells to make some poor woman fall in love with that nut job," said Willow.
"No, no - but couldn't you . . . I don't know . . . be a witchy-woman matchmaker or something? I mean, locate some good possible matches?" Xander looked at Giles. "Maybe if he had a few positive experiences, he'd stop trying to use spells."
"Yeah!" said Dawn. "Kinda like an internet dating service, only magical."
"We could do that," said Tara, sounding excited. "Willow - if you projected into the nether realm, you could see the links - I could be your anchor," she said. She turned toward Giles and the others. "Every person has many possible soulmates," she explained, "it's just a matter of identifying them. Greg's almost sure to have at least one in the Sunnydale area."
"True," said Willow, "but that would just mean they SHOULD be together. They’d feel a connection. But there'd be no guaranteeing it would actually work out between Greg and his possible mate. People can feel very connected, but still not . . . connect. You know?"
"Still - he'd have a good shot right? Both parties would be attracted? No instant rejection?" asked Xander. "And that's a good thing, right?"
Giles contemplated. "We might also find a way to make him allergic to lanthium powder, just to be on the safe side. Not that there aren't other ways aside from lanthium to do damage through magic, but at least he'd be disarmed on that score."
"He's not any great wizard," said Tara smiling at the turn of events. She liked the way Scooby interaction always led to a solution.
Willow nodded happily in agreement as Tara continued, "I didn't feel that kind of power or even potential in Greg. He's just a dabbler, probably doesn't know much more than two or three spells, and never will. So an allergy spell is a great safeguard."
"I think we've got a plan," said Dawn. "Find him a possible girl, and make him allergic to lanthium - now we just need to find Greg." Dawn looked toward the back of the shop. "Where's Spike? How long does it take to pull an arrow out of his butt?"
"Well . . . there's the cleaning and the bandaging," said Willow.
"And he'd have to take his pants off for that, and hers were already falling off," said Anya, "so there's the -"
Willow interrupted. "C'mon Dawnie!" she said, just as something thumped once - loudly -in the workout room. "Help me and Tara find the spell books we need upstairs."
"Can I be a helper too?" said Xander, already heading toward the stairs.
"Yes. Let's all go upstairs to help," said Giles.
***
End of Chapter 9
"What good will it do?" asked Dawn, crossing her arms. "Even if you find him and take away the powder, he can always get more."
"True," said Willow. "The Magic Box is probably the only place in town that sells lanthium powder, but there are magic shops around the world that are selling their wares on the web these days."
"Yes," said Anya, "some entrepreneurs have moved into the 21st century! If only we -"
Giles interrupted. "Dawn has a good point. Even if Spike can find Greg, then what?"
"How about first things first?" said Spike, turning around to glare at Buffy. "Let’s get this arrow out of my ass!"
"Come in the back with me," said Buffy. The others watched while Buffy, holding on to the bunched waistband of her pants to keep them from falling, helped a slow-moving Spike into the back room.
In the workout room, Spike turned his back to Buffy while she stood back and looked at the site of the injury. "Wow. This feels good," sighed Buffy. "I mean, you know, to be appreciating YOUR butt again, instead of Anya’s."
"Buffy – just yank the thing out!!"
Buffy did just that, while Spike yelped in pain. "Take your pants off and I’ll bandage it," said Buffy, throwing the bloody arrow in the trash. She went over to a corner cabinet for basic first aid supplies. She found a large safety pin and secured her own pants, and then she gathered some gauze, antiseptic, antibiotic ointment, scissors, and adhesive tape for Spike. She smiled and also picked up some warming, almond scented massage oil she sometimes used on sore muscles.
Spike was casually standing by the desk, though he had dropped his pants around his ankles. His total lack of modesty – and underwear – gave Buffy’s heart a start. She again sighed with pleasure at the return of her womanly desires. She went around behind Spike and looked at the wound. The arrowhead had not been large, and the wound, though penetrating, was nearly bloodless and fairly small.
"Take your shirt off too," said Buffy, "the bottom of it is almost touching the wound."
"It is?" said Spike as he turned toward the desk and leaned forward on it with both hands for support. "Just push my shirt up some, then."
Buffy frowned and sat down on a chair behind him to do her task. She grabbed his bare left thigh with her left hand, while she dabbed antiseptic on the wound, which was on the right. Then she slathered a bit of ointment on it. She fashioned a bandage out of the gauze and tape and was soon done with the first aid.
"Hold still," she said as she poured a bit of the massage oil on her hands and rubbed them together. She then grabbed both his thighs, and surveyed her work. "Stand up straight," she said.
The bandage bulged slightly as Spike stopped leaning on the desk and straightened - but it seemed as if it would hold. "Looks good," said Buffy. She stood up, running both oiled hands up Spike’s thighs and hips and then underneath his shirt. She hugged him from behind, resting her cheek against his back. "Mmmmm," said Buffy, moving her hands over his chest and upper abdomen, "This just feels so good. It’s good to be Buffy. Girl-Buffy."
"Glad to hear it, sincerely" said Spike. "But if you don’t mind, I’d like to pull my pants up."
"Well, maybe I do mind," Buffy teased, dropping a hand lower on his abdomen.
Spike grabbed Buffy’s wrists and pulled both her hands away from him, out from underneath his shirt. He quickly used his freedom to reach for his pants and pull them back up. He zipped them and turned around while buckling up his belt.
Buffy surprised him by throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him urgently. She pressed herself tightly against him, trying to feel every bump and line in his body. She gave him a small push downward to make him sit on the desk - the better to climb onto him. He protested then: "Buffy, Buffy - I can't sit. I'm sore."
"Oh. Right," Buffy backed away from Spike, holding on to his hand as she boldly looked him over from head to toe, letting her eyes linger on every inch of him, and allowing her body to react freely to the sights. He was male, and she was female, and she was feeling those facts steal slowly through her body via her nervous system – she was tingling right down to the soles of her feet. Oh, yes, yes, yes! Glorious, glorious womanhood.
He quietly watched her flushing face as she finished having a good look at him. She surveyed the room next. "Let's go over to the exercise mats," she said. "They're soft. And you can be on top, so no extra pressure on your tushy." Buffy needed him, and how, and now. She couldn't wait to take all the clothes off of that body; nothing would better wipe out the memory of what she had just been through, help her completely reclaim her femininity, than thoroughly enjoying her Spike.
Spike eyed Buffy speculatively. "Why don't you just use that dummy over there?" he asked, motioning with his head toward a straw man Xander had created for Buffy when the workout room had first been furnished. "What's he got underneath those pants?"
Buffy frowned and raised her eyebrows in sudden alarm. Spike was choosing now to get touchy? She couldn’t tolerate the idea that he might be saying no to her, not when she needed and wanted him so desperately. Still holding his hand, she held his eyes with her own. "You know I don't -" she hesitated. "You know I don't want that dummy . . . or any . . . I want -" she swallowed and her voice trembled slightly. "I want . . . you." She closed her eyes and lowered her head for a moment, then looked back up at him through her lashes. "I want you. You - you know that."
"Me." Spike gave Buffy a long look, smirked, then dropped her hand and walked silently to the other end of workout room toward the door to the store. Buffy's stomach immediately clenched in anger and hurt. But he simply locked the door and turned around. He removed his shirt and let it fall to the floor as he walked back toward her. Buffy's body relaxed with relief, as her pupils widened. She liked the way he was striding toward her, like a lean, hungry cat. A lean, hungry, shirtless cat. A low roaring began in her ears. She did want him. It had to be him and only him and that was nothing but the truth - even if she wasn't sure what that meant, or if it meant anything at all.
He grabbed her tightly around the waist and kissed her. He relished the way the increasingly hard, fast beat of her heart reverberated in his silent chest as he gradually held her closer and kissed her more deeply. He could almost fool himself that it was his own, faintly remembered rhythm; it stirred him to his core to feel that pounding inside again.
He picked up Buffy to take her to the exercise mats. She felt so light, so small, so warm, and so soft. And the way she moved against his bare chest, burying her face in his neck, making those tiny sounds . . . she’s mine she’s mine she’s mine, thought Spike. She's mine.
Had she learned anything from her time in a man's skin? Found out about these feelings of power and helplessness? About this heady feeling of being in control and the terrible fear of losing all control? About being the puppet-master and the puppet? About how a woman could just wash over a man until he'd do or say anything? To anybody, anytime? Make him wish for things he shouldn’t - it didn't matter. If she wanted him, she had him –always. But definitely, he would be on top this time. He would do it fast but right, his way. She’s mine.
Out on the storeroom floor, Giles and The Scoobies weren't thinking about Buffy or Spike. Oblivious to the physical workout going on in the workout room, they had been having a discussion about Greg - exercising their brains, not their bodies. But they were getting nowhere fast.
"No, it's not like there's a spell we can do to keep him from doing spells," said Willow, sighing. "There are probably other girls in town who have rejected him the way Buffy did, or at least he thinks there might be girls in the future - and he wants to have a supply of that lanthium powder. You know, to do the same thing to them he did to Buffy. The bastard."
Xander frowned. "That's one bitter guy." He shook his head. "I mean, I've had my share of rejection, but I've never been fool enough to take things that far."
Giles smirked. "No. As I recall, you were twice the fool it took to do a love spell that sent every female in Sunnydale after you. All because Cordelia had broken up with you, wasn’t it?"
"Exception noted," Xander nodded agreeably, smiling at the memory of Willow in his bed, and Buffy naked under her very, very short trench coat. "And wait," he said, "I’m finally having an idea! Yes!"
"Congratulations," said Giles.
Xander ignored the jibe. "What if we help Greg find a real girlfriend? I mean, a girl who won't reject him."
"I'm not doing any love spells to make some poor woman fall in love with that nut job," said Willow.
"No, no - but couldn't you . . . I don't know . . . be a witchy-woman matchmaker or something? I mean, locate some good possible matches?" Xander looked at Giles. "Maybe if he had a few positive experiences, he'd stop trying to use spells."
"Yeah!" said Dawn. "Kinda like an internet dating service, only magical."
"We could do that," said Tara, sounding excited. "Willow - if you projected into the nether realm, you could see the links - I could be your anchor," she said. She turned toward Giles and the others. "Every person has many possible soulmates," she explained, "it's just a matter of identifying them. Greg's almost sure to have at least one in the Sunnydale area."
"True," said Willow, "but that would just mean they SHOULD be together. They’d feel a connection. But there'd be no guaranteeing it would actually work out between Greg and his possible mate. People can feel very connected, but still not . . . connect. You know?"
"Still - he'd have a good shot right? Both parties would be attracted? No instant rejection?" asked Xander. "And that's a good thing, right?"
Giles contemplated. "We might also find a way to make him allergic to lanthium powder, just to be on the safe side. Not that there aren't other ways aside from lanthium to do damage through magic, but at least he'd be disarmed on that score."
"He's not any great wizard," said Tara smiling at the turn of events. She liked the way Scooby interaction always led to a solution.
Willow nodded happily in agreement as Tara continued, "I didn't feel that kind of power or even potential in Greg. He's just a dabbler, probably doesn't know much more than two or three spells, and never will. So an allergy spell is a great safeguard."
"I think we've got a plan," said Dawn. "Find him a possible girl, and make him allergic to lanthium - now we just need to find Greg." Dawn looked toward the back of the shop. "Where's Spike? How long does it take to pull an arrow out of his butt?"
"Well . . . there's the cleaning and the bandaging," said Willow.
"And he'd have to take his pants off for that, and hers were already falling off," said Anya, "so there's the -"
Willow interrupted. "C'mon Dawnie!" she said, just as something thumped once - loudly -in the workout room. "Help me and Tara find the spell books we need upstairs."
"Can I be a helper too?" said Xander, already heading toward the stairs.
"Yes. Let's all go upstairs to help," said Giles.
***
End of Chapter 9