In Perfect Harmony
by Spring Summers 01-Dec-03
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BUFFY: And you with Harmony. What'd you do? Lose a bet?
HARMONY: Hey.
SPIKE: Actually, how we met. It's a funny story.
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Spike screeched the DeSoto to a halt right in front of Willie’s bar. He’d run out of booze, and he was very near sobriety again - a condition he’d been avoiding since he’d left Mexico City. Without whiskey to dull the memory or the pain, he could hear Dru’s angry parting words again: “You say you want The Gem, but I can see the truth all around you. Like raindrops. You want to go back to Sunnydale for her. You’re not mine anymore, Spike. There’s nothing left.”
The crazy little bitch!! Over a hundred years by her side, and now she had the nerve to leave him – for a second time - based on raindrops?? Bollocks!! To hell with Dru and her “special sight!” A crazy bitch was all she was; it was all she had ever been.
He had watched her leave on the arm of a Fungus Demon. A Fungus Demon! He had called after her: “If that’s what you want, sweetheart, I can catch myself a . . . spongy scalp condition! Or trench mouth! Or maybe a wicked full-body case of Athlete’s Foot! Would you like that, Dru? Would you?”
But she hadn’t turned around. And the very moment she was out of sight, he had slammed into the DeSoto and pointed it directly toward Sunnydale and Buffy, The Vampire Slayer. He would find The Gem of Amara and he would kill The Slayer, and whether Dru took him back or not, that would be the finish of the unfinished Buffy-business.
Now, in Sunnydale, Willie winced and groaned when he saw what was coming through the door of his establishment: Spike. He looked like hell and he looked like trouble, and Willie did not want either.
Spike handed Willie a few bills. “Bottle of whiskey, whatever kinda rot-gut this’ll buy me.” Spike was loud, and heads were beginning to turn his way.
“Sure, sure, sit down, Spike, sit down. Lemme see what I got.” Willie flicked his eyes toward the entrance, wondering about the whereabouts of Spike’s scary, unpredictable, and freaky-evil girlfriend, Drusilla. Keeping his eye on the door, he reached under the counter and handed Spike a bottle of whiskey.
Spike giggled as he opened the bottle. “If you’re wondering about Dru, don’t worry yourself. No. My barmy bride didn’t want to join me this trip. Seems she prefers another. Yeah. I’m sure she and her mushRoomeo found some dark, stinkin’ giant shoe to live in by now, where she can scratch all his itches.”
What was he talking about? Willie grimaced as he watched Spike begin to throw back the booze. In a few minutes, he’d have a drunken, miserable, lovesick Spike on his hands. Perfect. Exactly what he did not need. “Why don’t you go in the back, finish that off, and snooze on the cot I’ve got back there, huh, Spike?”
“What? So you can call The Slayer and have her do me in my sleep? Not bloody likely.”
Spike seemed to be pouring the whiskey straight down his throat without even swallowing. Willie was considering offering him a free cup of O-positive, blood-warm and generously laced with large-animal tranquilizers. But his thoughts were interrupted by the entry of yet another troublesome customer. Willie sighed and left Spike momentarily to approach the little blonde who had seated herself at the other end of the bar:
“Hey, Harmony. Whatchya doin’ here? I thought I told you, no more free blood.”
“Please, Willie! I’m starved!”
“So? The night is full of walkin’ Big Gulps. Go get one.”
“I know! They look yummy, but I’m no good at catching them! I managed to drain an old drunk, but that was two days ago – and he tasted like a really sour pickle! I was sick for 24 hours - blech!”
In a beautiful, boozy fog, Spike peered down the bar at Willie and the blonde. When she crossed her legs, her tiny skirt hitched up so high, Spike couldn’t help smiling a bit. She had the prettiest pair of legs he’d ever seen. They were perfect, like a doll’s legs, and absolutely bare. He took a few more swigs from the bottle, shamelessly staring. She didn’t notice him until he moved down two bar stools for a closer look.
Suddenly, she was standing in front of him. “What do you think you’re looking at, mister?” she said.
Spike hopped off the bar stool, and the room spun a bit as his feet hit the floor. He was inches from her face, staring down at her. “I was looking at you. Well, your legs. Hmmm . . . make that your thighs . . . your silky-lookin’ upper thighs, if you want me to be exact.” He smirked.
“You’re a pig!” Harmony shoved him and he staggered back a few steps.
Willie watched as Spike took another swallow from the whiskey bottle and placed it back on the bar. Harmony had turned away and was heading for the front door when Spike caught up to her, grabbed her arm, and spun her toward him. He locked his arms around her waist, pulled her forward, and dropped his head onto her shoulder.
“Let go, you big jerk!” Harmony wriggled and pushed ineffectively at a steel-armed and stock-still Spike, as Willie hastily approached them.
“Take it easy, Harmony,” said Willie. “Don’t worry. He’s dead drunk. I’ll get him off you.”
Willie tugged at the arm of Spike’s coat. “C’mon, man. I don’t want any trouble here. Let go of the lady. Come back and sit at the bar and you can have a nice cup of O-positive, on me. It’ll be right at 98 point 6, I promise.”
Still resting his whirling head on Harmony’s shoulder, Spike turned toward Willie. “Don’t want any blood. Wanna stay right here.” He tugged at Harmony, pulling her closer. “Feels real good.” He turned his face back toward her neck, nuzzling in and closing his eyes. He just wanted to sleep, sleep enveloped in the softness of the girl’s body and the sweet cherry-almond smell of her hair. Just sleep.
Harmony reached for Spike’s hair to yank at it, but she caught Willie’s signal to keep still. She watched as Willie reached for a full bottle of red wine on the counter. While she leaned her face away, he brought it down hard against the back of Spike’s head. Spike collapsed onto the floor.
Harmony and Willie stared at Spike’s crumpled form. “What a freak!” said Harmony.
Willie looked at Spike, and then at Harmony. Takes one to know one, he thought. She was just the sort of wacky broad only Spike could go for – and if they got together, they’d both stay out of his way. Harmony wouldn’t go hungry for blood, and Spike wouldn’t go hungry for female companionship. It’d take the edge off of both of them. And mostly, they could babble their matching blonde fool heads off at each other, instead of at him. It was perfect.
“Tell you what, Harmony,” said Willie, “I’ll give you six pints of the best blood I got, and you take this guy over to your place.”
“My place!” Harmony had lucked into a nice, fully-equipped abandoned vamp’s nest in a cave just north of Sunnydale. She didn’t like the idea of sharing her cozy home with the thing on the floor. “Ewww! I don’t want him! He’s nasty and he stinks like stale tobacco and whiskey and body odor and . . . ewwww!”
“Ah, see - he’s not always that way. He’s just hurtin’ from being dumped by his girlfriend. Give the poor guy a break. He’s good-lookin’ don’t you think? And a real good provider-type. When he’s sober, I mean. Scourge of Europe, something like that.”
Harmony’s stomach growled as she looked down doubtfully at the pathetic excuse for a vampire that lay at her feet. “Twelve pints,” she said finally. “I’ll take him if you give me twelve pints of blood, not six.”
“Twelve?? That’s –“ Willie stopped and relented. It was worth it. “All right. You got it.”
Willie helped Harmony pack the pints of blood into the trunk, and put Spike into the passenger side of the DeSoto. He fished the car keys out of Spike’s coat pocket and handed them to Harmony, who sat down behind the wheel.
“Now, listen,” said Willie, “you take him back to your place, and keep him there until he’s feeling better. That’s our deal. If I find out you dumped him somewhere, I’ll send The Slayer after you. She happens to be a personal friend of mine.”
Harmony frowned. “I get it, OK? I’ll play nursie until he feels better!”
Willie smiled, as pleased with his genius as any matchmaker from hell had a right to be. He watched as the black DeSoto fishtailed away from the curb, and the Undead Bobbsey Twins sped out of his sight.
Spike was mercifully unconscious for the wild ride to the outskirts of Sunnydale. Harmony turned onto a narrow gravel road, driving at speeds that caused pebbles to fly and ping at the finish of his beloved DeSoto continuously. She finally came to an abrupt halt when the road dead-ended.
Immediately, she ran around to the trunk of the car for the blood. She drank a whole pint right down. It tasted so good! She greedily drank half of another jar, closed the lid, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and picked up the box of jars to carry it into her lair. Then she reluctantly went back to the car, picked up Spike, and carried him into the lair as well.
She laid him on the cold floor on his back, and he stirred a little, mumbling something. His hair was disheveled, and she knelt down next to him to play with his hair a bit. It was such a funny color, and she liked the way each lock curled up immediately, once she freed it from its slicked back prison. When she was through, she looked at him, happy with her work. His face, now topped by a cloud of curls, looked almost sweet. Too bad he still smelled like rotten garbage.
She was running her hands through his curls one last time when he suddenly grabbed her wrist. His eyes flew open. “Care to tell me where I am?”
“Ow! Let go of me!” Harmony wrenched her wrist free and stood up. Spike sat up and grabbed his head in his hands.
“Willie hit me, didn’t he? Christ, I feel like my head’s gonna explode and I think I’m gonna – I’m gonna - heave –“
“There’s a bathroom. It’s right through that tunnel,” said Harmony. Spike stood up, keeping his head in his hands and looking wobbly. “All right, c’mon,” she said. He leaned on her, making a few gagging sounds, while she led him through the torch-lit passage to the toilet, where he released the esophagus-searing, all-liquid contents of his stomach. Harmony’s own stomach turned over a few times but she stayed in the alcove, watching him.
He stood up and then took off his coat as she led him back into the main room.
“Phew!! You really, really stink!! Especially now that you took off your coat and added vomit to the mix.” She frowned at Spike, who had plopped down on a small couch, still nursing his head in his hands. She went to a dresser and came back to him. “Here’s some men’s pajamas that look like they might fit. I think they belonged to whoever used to live here. Go back to the bathroom – take a shower and put these on. OK? And make sure you brush your teeth too. But don’t use the glitter-pink toothbrush.”
“I’m staying here?”
“I promised Willie.” Harmony sighed and frowned at the surprised look on Spike’s face. “It’s a long story. You can stay here as long as you don’t give me any trouble. No grabbing or staring or talking about my legs or my . . . thighs or . . . whatever! And you have to wash the stinky off, and then you can sleep on that couch. OK?”
“Yeah. OK.” Spike was feeling utterly miserable and he hated the way the pretty girl’s nose was crinkling, and the way she kept turning her face away from him.
In the shower, he began to feel better. The girl had a really nice set-up; she had running water - hot running water as well as cold. Dru would have loved this place. Dru. Spike tried not to think of her as dried himself off, brushed his teeth and climbed into the navy blue pajamas. Dru! Dru had left him. Dru!
He’d given her everything, absolutely everything, and still, she was gone. Somehow, he hadn’t made the grade. She had rejected and humiliated him: “You’re not mine anymore, Spike.” What was he then? He was nothing if not hers. Nothing.
Feeling painfully sober, Spike sat down on the closed toilet seat. He brought his hands up to his face, and for the first time since he left Mexico City, the horrible hurt brought tears instead of anger. He began, unabashedly, to cry. He didn’t know how long he had been there, shoulders shaking and quiet tears running down into a towel, when he heard a small sound and looked up to see the blonde girl watching him. She was wearing a long, shiny, pale-pink robe and carrying a powder-blue bath towel. The towel was doing a poor job of hiding the wooden stake she had concealed beneath it.
“Christ,” he said, jumping to his feet. “Listen, I was just – I’ve not been feeling too well, is all.”
She looked at him: His hair was mess of damp curls, and his eyes were red-rimmed and shiny. The navy blue pajamas, with their white piping, looked good on him, though they were a size too large. And he smelled wonderfully now, just like her almond-scented soap – though it smelled differently on him. Really good. Man good.
“I’ve been dumped a bunch of times,” she said to him, biting her lower lip. “I always cry too.” She shrugged her shoulders, and gave him a small, quick, wide-eyed smile.
He lowered his head, swallowing and saying nothing. Anger welled up inside him again. Here was yet another mortification at Dru’s hands - look what she had reduced him to: A sniveling child being comforted by what seemed to be the frilliest, most ineffectual vampire in all of creation.
But when Harmony laid down her towel and her stake, to hug him and stroke his head, he let her. And when he suddenly kissed her, she let him. Then he kissed her more deeply than she’d ever been kissed; then he backed her forcefully toward a wall and opened her robe – and she let him.
She let him push the robe off of her shoulders and onto the ground, though she was wearing absolutely nothing underneath. When he picked her up to take her to the bed, she let him do that as well. But when she watched him stand at the side of the bed and remove his pajamas, she gulped at the sight of him and turned her face away, quickly scurrying under the blankets to cover her own nakedness. She suddenly felt afraid and trapped, and she scooted toward the far side of the bed as he got under the covers with her.
He reached for her and pulled her toward him, noticing, to his surprise, that she was now stiff and shaking: “What is it?” he said.
“I – you – I don’t – I got killed at High School graduation, only a few months ago,” she blurted. She buried her face in his shoulder and began to cry. “I don’t even know how to be on my own! But my parents screamed and wouldn’t take me back. My own parents! And I hate trying to dress and put on make-up without a mirror, and I don’t know how to hunt, and I don’t know how to be a vampire, and I definitely don’t know how to – how to do this with you!”
“I can teach you,” he said simply, “about everything.” He let her cry awhile, then, when her tears slowed, he cupped the curves of her firm little rump and pushed her whole body gently against him, letting her feel what her naked nearness was doing to him. He kissed her neck gently, while he moved his hands and fingers cautiously over her body, caressing her. He continued to cover her face and neck with tiny kisses as he enjoyed the feel of her skin under his discreetly wandering hands.
Her trembling slowly lessened and then stopped. He increased his pace and aggression, and finally, she made a small moan of pleasure, and those perfect legs, which she had been holding so tightly together all this time, relaxed and parted slightly. He mounted her immediately, pushing her legs apart with his knees, and lowering himself over her. Kissing her mouth to distraction, he found her sweet-spot and pushed himself inside with one merciless, powerful thrust. She flinched and gasped as he broke through, but then she tightened her legs around his waist and surprised him with the quickness and strength of her orgasm, and with her loud cries of “Oh, Oh, Oh - Oh!!” Her pure and unbridled excitement pushed him right over the edge, and he came quickly, in a wonderfully mind-numbing rush.
He lay atop her, feeling spent, and surprised, and happy, and surprised to be happy. The only woman he’d ever made love to, the only woman he had ever been with - other than the occasional half-dead victim - was Dru. But a century of his faithful devotion, the whole of him, had added up to nothing. She had taken his soul, then his body, then his heart. He had become Spike: The Scourge of Continents, The Most Feared, The Slayer of Slayers. All worthless, all ashes now, to Dru. So, fine then. It was over. He wished Dru could see him, now.
“What’s your name, pet?” he asked the beautiful girl beneath him. Yes. There was a beautiful girl beneath him. She had big blue eyes and a ripe red mouth and a perfect body and not a molecule of fungus anywhere on her.
“Harmony,” she answered. For a woman who’d just ridden him hard across the finish line, she sounded rather shy. “What’s yours?”
“Spike.”
“Spike.” She ran her fingers through his hair. She definitely liked how it felt when it was all curly and gel-free. “Uh - Spike?”
“Yeah?”
“I – I liked that – a lot. Can we . . . maybe do it some more?”
“Sure. We’ll do it plenty more times.” Harmony wrapped her legs back around his waist. “Though maybe not right this second,” he added.
“Oh.” Harmony dropped her legs back onto the bed. “So . . . how long does it take, then? I mean for you to-?”
“I know what you mean.” Spike rolled off and onto his back, feeling a tiny twinge of alarm, which he ignored. “It depends. The man’s gotta have a little time at least, and you know, the right kind of . . . stimulation from the woman.”
“How little time do you need?” she asked, focusing on entirely the wrong part of his phrasing.
“Approximately twenty minutes to two days.” Spike’s answer was immediate and off the top of his head. He was certain the girl needed a quick and definitive answer before she would stop asking. He shifted with discomfort; he sounded dry and stuffy, even to himself, as if he were her biology professor instead of her lover.
“Why so long?”
“Well, I don’t rightly know why – and it’s not ‘so long’.”
“Oh. You mean it can take you longer sometimes?” The girl had the amazing cheek to sound seriously worried.
“No. Absolutely not. Never. Never has, never will. It – listen, I’m tired is the thing. I’ve gotta get some sleep right now. We can do it again in the morning.”
“You’ll be good as new?”
“I’ll – yes. First thing in the morning. Every morning. Nearly never fails.”
“Do you promise? Because you just said ‘nearly’. And before you said it could take ‘up to two days’, and I -”
Spike rolled back over on top of her and kissed her, just to make her stop talking. “First thing in the morning. I promise, OK?”
“OK.” Harmony sounded happy and excited, and she actually clapped her hands. “But I don’t know how I’m going to be able to sleep!”
Spike found himself in mostly unknown territory: Speechlessness. He rolled off of her, shaking his head in wonder – he was in luck here, he just wasn’t sure which kind. But he was smiling, and it was his first truly wide and sneerless smile since Dru’s departure. He turned on to his side, facing away from Harmony, but she snuggled up behind him. It surprised him; Dru had never wanted that kind of comfort unless she was sick. He turned back around to hold this very strange girl, burying his face in her hair, letting himself begin to drift off to sleep surrounded by her softness and sweet smell, just as he’d hoped to do in Willie’s bar.
In the morning, they’d go at it again, and he’d teach her more. He could be infinitely patient, when he wanted to be. They’d spend the day in bed – he would forget all about Dru and he wouldn’t think about The Gem or Ms Buffy Summers until later. He would just let himself enjoy every inch of this pretty, willing, and very excitable girl. Then at sundown, they’d go hunting together. He had a feeling Harmony would be an excellent, eager student. And in no time, he would be everything to her.
***
by Spring Summers 01-Dec-03
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BUFFY: And you with Harmony. What'd you do? Lose a bet?
HARMONY: Hey.
SPIKE: Actually, how we met. It's a funny story.
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Spike screeched the DeSoto to a halt right in front of Willie’s bar. He’d run out of booze, and he was very near sobriety again - a condition he’d been avoiding since he’d left Mexico City. Without whiskey to dull the memory or the pain, he could hear Dru’s angry parting words again: “You say you want The Gem, but I can see the truth all around you. Like raindrops. You want to go back to Sunnydale for her. You’re not mine anymore, Spike. There’s nothing left.”
The crazy little bitch!! Over a hundred years by her side, and now she had the nerve to leave him – for a second time - based on raindrops?? Bollocks!! To hell with Dru and her “special sight!” A crazy bitch was all she was; it was all she had ever been.
He had watched her leave on the arm of a Fungus Demon. A Fungus Demon! He had called after her: “If that’s what you want, sweetheart, I can catch myself a . . . spongy scalp condition! Or trench mouth! Or maybe a wicked full-body case of Athlete’s Foot! Would you like that, Dru? Would you?”
But she hadn’t turned around. And the very moment she was out of sight, he had slammed into the DeSoto and pointed it directly toward Sunnydale and Buffy, The Vampire Slayer. He would find The Gem of Amara and he would kill The Slayer, and whether Dru took him back or not, that would be the finish of the unfinished Buffy-business.
Now, in Sunnydale, Willie winced and groaned when he saw what was coming through the door of his establishment: Spike. He looked like hell and he looked like trouble, and Willie did not want either.
Spike handed Willie a few bills. “Bottle of whiskey, whatever kinda rot-gut this’ll buy me.” Spike was loud, and heads were beginning to turn his way.
“Sure, sure, sit down, Spike, sit down. Lemme see what I got.” Willie flicked his eyes toward the entrance, wondering about the whereabouts of Spike’s scary, unpredictable, and freaky-evil girlfriend, Drusilla. Keeping his eye on the door, he reached under the counter and handed Spike a bottle of whiskey.
Spike giggled as he opened the bottle. “If you’re wondering about Dru, don’t worry yourself. No. My barmy bride didn’t want to join me this trip. Seems she prefers another. Yeah. I’m sure she and her mushRoomeo found some dark, stinkin’ giant shoe to live in by now, where she can scratch all his itches.”
What was he talking about? Willie grimaced as he watched Spike begin to throw back the booze. In a few minutes, he’d have a drunken, miserable, lovesick Spike on his hands. Perfect. Exactly what he did not need. “Why don’t you go in the back, finish that off, and snooze on the cot I’ve got back there, huh, Spike?”
“What? So you can call The Slayer and have her do me in my sleep? Not bloody likely.”
Spike seemed to be pouring the whiskey straight down his throat without even swallowing. Willie was considering offering him a free cup of O-positive, blood-warm and generously laced with large-animal tranquilizers. But his thoughts were interrupted by the entry of yet another troublesome customer. Willie sighed and left Spike momentarily to approach the little blonde who had seated herself at the other end of the bar:
“Hey, Harmony. Whatchya doin’ here? I thought I told you, no more free blood.”
“Please, Willie! I’m starved!”
“So? The night is full of walkin’ Big Gulps. Go get one.”
“I know! They look yummy, but I’m no good at catching them! I managed to drain an old drunk, but that was two days ago – and he tasted like a really sour pickle! I was sick for 24 hours - blech!”
In a beautiful, boozy fog, Spike peered down the bar at Willie and the blonde. When she crossed her legs, her tiny skirt hitched up so high, Spike couldn’t help smiling a bit. She had the prettiest pair of legs he’d ever seen. They were perfect, like a doll’s legs, and absolutely bare. He took a few more swigs from the bottle, shamelessly staring. She didn’t notice him until he moved down two bar stools for a closer look.
Suddenly, she was standing in front of him. “What do you think you’re looking at, mister?” she said.
Spike hopped off the bar stool, and the room spun a bit as his feet hit the floor. He was inches from her face, staring down at her. “I was looking at you. Well, your legs. Hmmm . . . make that your thighs . . . your silky-lookin’ upper thighs, if you want me to be exact.” He smirked.
“You’re a pig!” Harmony shoved him and he staggered back a few steps.
Willie watched as Spike took another swallow from the whiskey bottle and placed it back on the bar. Harmony had turned away and was heading for the front door when Spike caught up to her, grabbed her arm, and spun her toward him. He locked his arms around her waist, pulled her forward, and dropped his head onto her shoulder.
“Let go, you big jerk!” Harmony wriggled and pushed ineffectively at a steel-armed and stock-still Spike, as Willie hastily approached them.
“Take it easy, Harmony,” said Willie. “Don’t worry. He’s dead drunk. I’ll get him off you.”
Willie tugged at the arm of Spike’s coat. “C’mon, man. I don’t want any trouble here. Let go of the lady. Come back and sit at the bar and you can have a nice cup of O-positive, on me. It’ll be right at 98 point 6, I promise.”
Still resting his whirling head on Harmony’s shoulder, Spike turned toward Willie. “Don’t want any blood. Wanna stay right here.” He tugged at Harmony, pulling her closer. “Feels real good.” He turned his face back toward her neck, nuzzling in and closing his eyes. He just wanted to sleep, sleep enveloped in the softness of the girl’s body and the sweet cherry-almond smell of her hair. Just sleep.
Harmony reached for Spike’s hair to yank at it, but she caught Willie’s signal to keep still. She watched as Willie reached for a full bottle of red wine on the counter. While she leaned her face away, he brought it down hard against the back of Spike’s head. Spike collapsed onto the floor.
Harmony and Willie stared at Spike’s crumpled form. “What a freak!” said Harmony.
Willie looked at Spike, and then at Harmony. Takes one to know one, he thought. She was just the sort of wacky broad only Spike could go for – and if they got together, they’d both stay out of his way. Harmony wouldn’t go hungry for blood, and Spike wouldn’t go hungry for female companionship. It’d take the edge off of both of them. And mostly, they could babble their matching blonde fool heads off at each other, instead of at him. It was perfect.
“Tell you what, Harmony,” said Willie, “I’ll give you six pints of the best blood I got, and you take this guy over to your place.”
“My place!” Harmony had lucked into a nice, fully-equipped abandoned vamp’s nest in a cave just north of Sunnydale. She didn’t like the idea of sharing her cozy home with the thing on the floor. “Ewww! I don’t want him! He’s nasty and he stinks like stale tobacco and whiskey and body odor and . . . ewwww!”
“Ah, see - he’s not always that way. He’s just hurtin’ from being dumped by his girlfriend. Give the poor guy a break. He’s good-lookin’ don’t you think? And a real good provider-type. When he’s sober, I mean. Scourge of Europe, something like that.”
Harmony’s stomach growled as she looked down doubtfully at the pathetic excuse for a vampire that lay at her feet. “Twelve pints,” she said finally. “I’ll take him if you give me twelve pints of blood, not six.”
“Twelve?? That’s –“ Willie stopped and relented. It was worth it. “All right. You got it.”
Willie helped Harmony pack the pints of blood into the trunk, and put Spike into the passenger side of the DeSoto. He fished the car keys out of Spike’s coat pocket and handed them to Harmony, who sat down behind the wheel.
“Now, listen,” said Willie, “you take him back to your place, and keep him there until he’s feeling better. That’s our deal. If I find out you dumped him somewhere, I’ll send The Slayer after you. She happens to be a personal friend of mine.”
Harmony frowned. “I get it, OK? I’ll play nursie until he feels better!”
Willie smiled, as pleased with his genius as any matchmaker from hell had a right to be. He watched as the black DeSoto fishtailed away from the curb, and the Undead Bobbsey Twins sped out of his sight.
Spike was mercifully unconscious for the wild ride to the outskirts of Sunnydale. Harmony turned onto a narrow gravel road, driving at speeds that caused pebbles to fly and ping at the finish of his beloved DeSoto continuously. She finally came to an abrupt halt when the road dead-ended.
Immediately, she ran around to the trunk of the car for the blood. She drank a whole pint right down. It tasted so good! She greedily drank half of another jar, closed the lid, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, and picked up the box of jars to carry it into her lair. Then she reluctantly went back to the car, picked up Spike, and carried him into the lair as well.
She laid him on the cold floor on his back, and he stirred a little, mumbling something. His hair was disheveled, and she knelt down next to him to play with his hair a bit. It was such a funny color, and she liked the way each lock curled up immediately, once she freed it from its slicked back prison. When she was through, she looked at him, happy with her work. His face, now topped by a cloud of curls, looked almost sweet. Too bad he still smelled like rotten garbage.
She was running her hands through his curls one last time when he suddenly grabbed her wrist. His eyes flew open. “Care to tell me where I am?”
“Ow! Let go of me!” Harmony wrenched her wrist free and stood up. Spike sat up and grabbed his head in his hands.
“Willie hit me, didn’t he? Christ, I feel like my head’s gonna explode and I think I’m gonna – I’m gonna - heave –“
“There’s a bathroom. It’s right through that tunnel,” said Harmony. Spike stood up, keeping his head in his hands and looking wobbly. “All right, c’mon,” she said. He leaned on her, making a few gagging sounds, while she led him through the torch-lit passage to the toilet, where he released the esophagus-searing, all-liquid contents of his stomach. Harmony’s own stomach turned over a few times but she stayed in the alcove, watching him.
He stood up and then took off his coat as she led him back into the main room.
“Phew!! You really, really stink!! Especially now that you took off your coat and added vomit to the mix.” She frowned at Spike, who had plopped down on a small couch, still nursing his head in his hands. She went to a dresser and came back to him. “Here’s some men’s pajamas that look like they might fit. I think they belonged to whoever used to live here. Go back to the bathroom – take a shower and put these on. OK? And make sure you brush your teeth too. But don’t use the glitter-pink toothbrush.”
“I’m staying here?”
“I promised Willie.” Harmony sighed and frowned at the surprised look on Spike’s face. “It’s a long story. You can stay here as long as you don’t give me any trouble. No grabbing or staring or talking about my legs or my . . . thighs or . . . whatever! And you have to wash the stinky off, and then you can sleep on that couch. OK?”
“Yeah. OK.” Spike was feeling utterly miserable and he hated the way the pretty girl’s nose was crinkling, and the way she kept turning her face away from him.
In the shower, he began to feel better. The girl had a really nice set-up; she had running water - hot running water as well as cold. Dru would have loved this place. Dru. Spike tried not to think of her as dried himself off, brushed his teeth and climbed into the navy blue pajamas. Dru! Dru had left him. Dru!
He’d given her everything, absolutely everything, and still, she was gone. Somehow, he hadn’t made the grade. She had rejected and humiliated him: “You’re not mine anymore, Spike.” What was he then? He was nothing if not hers. Nothing.
Feeling painfully sober, Spike sat down on the closed toilet seat. He brought his hands up to his face, and for the first time since he left Mexico City, the horrible hurt brought tears instead of anger. He began, unabashedly, to cry. He didn’t know how long he had been there, shoulders shaking and quiet tears running down into a towel, when he heard a small sound and looked up to see the blonde girl watching him. She was wearing a long, shiny, pale-pink robe and carrying a powder-blue bath towel. The towel was doing a poor job of hiding the wooden stake she had concealed beneath it.
“Christ,” he said, jumping to his feet. “Listen, I was just – I’ve not been feeling too well, is all.”
She looked at him: His hair was mess of damp curls, and his eyes were red-rimmed and shiny. The navy blue pajamas, with their white piping, looked good on him, though they were a size too large. And he smelled wonderfully now, just like her almond-scented soap – though it smelled differently on him. Really good. Man good.
“I’ve been dumped a bunch of times,” she said to him, biting her lower lip. “I always cry too.” She shrugged her shoulders, and gave him a small, quick, wide-eyed smile.
He lowered his head, swallowing and saying nothing. Anger welled up inside him again. Here was yet another mortification at Dru’s hands - look what she had reduced him to: A sniveling child being comforted by what seemed to be the frilliest, most ineffectual vampire in all of creation.
But when Harmony laid down her towel and her stake, to hug him and stroke his head, he let her. And when he suddenly kissed her, she let him. Then he kissed her more deeply than she’d ever been kissed; then he backed her forcefully toward a wall and opened her robe – and she let him.
She let him push the robe off of her shoulders and onto the ground, though she was wearing absolutely nothing underneath. When he picked her up to take her to the bed, she let him do that as well. But when she watched him stand at the side of the bed and remove his pajamas, she gulped at the sight of him and turned her face away, quickly scurrying under the blankets to cover her own nakedness. She suddenly felt afraid and trapped, and she scooted toward the far side of the bed as he got under the covers with her.
He reached for her and pulled her toward him, noticing, to his surprise, that she was now stiff and shaking: “What is it?” he said.
“I – you – I don’t – I got killed at High School graduation, only a few months ago,” she blurted. She buried her face in his shoulder and began to cry. “I don’t even know how to be on my own! But my parents screamed and wouldn’t take me back. My own parents! And I hate trying to dress and put on make-up without a mirror, and I don’t know how to hunt, and I don’t know how to be a vampire, and I definitely don’t know how to – how to do this with you!”
“I can teach you,” he said simply, “about everything.” He let her cry awhile, then, when her tears slowed, he cupped the curves of her firm little rump and pushed her whole body gently against him, letting her feel what her naked nearness was doing to him. He kissed her neck gently, while he moved his hands and fingers cautiously over her body, caressing her. He continued to cover her face and neck with tiny kisses as he enjoyed the feel of her skin under his discreetly wandering hands.
Her trembling slowly lessened and then stopped. He increased his pace and aggression, and finally, she made a small moan of pleasure, and those perfect legs, which she had been holding so tightly together all this time, relaxed and parted slightly. He mounted her immediately, pushing her legs apart with his knees, and lowering himself over her. Kissing her mouth to distraction, he found her sweet-spot and pushed himself inside with one merciless, powerful thrust. She flinched and gasped as he broke through, but then she tightened her legs around his waist and surprised him with the quickness and strength of her orgasm, and with her loud cries of “Oh, Oh, Oh - Oh!!” Her pure and unbridled excitement pushed him right over the edge, and he came quickly, in a wonderfully mind-numbing rush.
He lay atop her, feeling spent, and surprised, and happy, and surprised to be happy. The only woman he’d ever made love to, the only woman he had ever been with - other than the occasional half-dead victim - was Dru. But a century of his faithful devotion, the whole of him, had added up to nothing. She had taken his soul, then his body, then his heart. He had become Spike: The Scourge of Continents, The Most Feared, The Slayer of Slayers. All worthless, all ashes now, to Dru. So, fine then. It was over. He wished Dru could see him, now.
“What’s your name, pet?” he asked the beautiful girl beneath him. Yes. There was a beautiful girl beneath him. She had big blue eyes and a ripe red mouth and a perfect body and not a molecule of fungus anywhere on her.
“Harmony,” she answered. For a woman who’d just ridden him hard across the finish line, she sounded rather shy. “What’s yours?”
“Spike.”
“Spike.” She ran her fingers through his hair. She definitely liked how it felt when it was all curly and gel-free. “Uh - Spike?”
“Yeah?”
“I – I liked that – a lot. Can we . . . maybe do it some more?”
“Sure. We’ll do it plenty more times.” Harmony wrapped her legs back around his waist. “Though maybe not right this second,” he added.
“Oh.” Harmony dropped her legs back onto the bed. “So . . . how long does it take, then? I mean for you to-?”
“I know what you mean.” Spike rolled off and onto his back, feeling a tiny twinge of alarm, which he ignored. “It depends. The man’s gotta have a little time at least, and you know, the right kind of . . . stimulation from the woman.”
“How little time do you need?” she asked, focusing on entirely the wrong part of his phrasing.
“Approximately twenty minutes to two days.” Spike’s answer was immediate and off the top of his head. He was certain the girl needed a quick and definitive answer before she would stop asking. He shifted with discomfort; he sounded dry and stuffy, even to himself, as if he were her biology professor instead of her lover.
“Why so long?”
“Well, I don’t rightly know why – and it’s not ‘so long’.”
“Oh. You mean it can take you longer sometimes?” The girl had the amazing cheek to sound seriously worried.
“No. Absolutely not. Never. Never has, never will. It – listen, I’m tired is the thing. I’ve gotta get some sleep right now. We can do it again in the morning.”
“You’ll be good as new?”
“I’ll – yes. First thing in the morning. Every morning. Nearly never fails.”
“Do you promise? Because you just said ‘nearly’. And before you said it could take ‘up to two days’, and I -”
Spike rolled back over on top of her and kissed her, just to make her stop talking. “First thing in the morning. I promise, OK?”
“OK.” Harmony sounded happy and excited, and she actually clapped her hands. “But I don’t know how I’m going to be able to sleep!”
Spike found himself in mostly unknown territory: Speechlessness. He rolled off of her, shaking his head in wonder – he was in luck here, he just wasn’t sure which kind. But he was smiling, and it was his first truly wide and sneerless smile since Dru’s departure. He turned on to his side, facing away from Harmony, but she snuggled up behind him. It surprised him; Dru had never wanted that kind of comfort unless she was sick. He turned back around to hold this very strange girl, burying his face in her hair, letting himself begin to drift off to sleep surrounded by her softness and sweet smell, just as he’d hoped to do in Willie’s bar.
In the morning, they’d go at it again, and he’d teach her more. He could be infinitely patient, when he wanted to be. They’d spend the day in bed – he would forget all about Dru and he wouldn’t think about The Gem or Ms Buffy Summers until later. He would just let himself enjoy every inch of this pretty, willing, and very excitable girl. Then at sundown, they’d go hunting together. He had a feeling Harmony would be an excellent, eager student. And in no time, he would be everything to her.
***
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