Part 32 - With a Vengeance
Crawling between those nice fresh sheets while reeking of booze and
tobacco somehow seemed inappropriate. Besides, he was far too chipper to go to
bed. Spike decided to take a quick shower to get the smell out of his skin and
hair, and then unwind in a nice hot bath.
Fifteen minutes later he was ready to climb into the tub. He had moved
the kitchen radio to the bathroom again and set it to play one of a pitifully
small number of CDs in this household that were NOT Country or stuff like 'My
Fair Lady.' The name of the band didn't ring a bell, but anything 80s was bound
to be better than those 50s musicals. *Really have to do something about
Harris's education,* he snickered, meaning not just the young man's taste
in music. *And Anya's, too.*
His cock perked up at the thought, but not in a desperate
'do-it-now!'-way. It was more of an enthusiastic
'sounds-like-a-plan-count-me-in' vibe. Spike ignored the proof of his arousal
and stepped into the hot water.
He sighed contentedly as he slid beneath the surface. There was nothing
as soothing and relaxing as soaking in hot water. He leaned back, letting his
arms rest on the rim of the tub and closed his eyes in something akin to
rapture. As delicious warmth seeped into him, his thoughts drifted aimlessly
until they finally settled on an important matter.
He'd have to get Anya a birthday present, one that she could actually
open in front of her friends. So, no dildo-shaped threesome-voucher. He smiled
lazily at the image. He could almost hear the 'you're a pig, Spike'-chorus of
the girls. Chocolate? Lame. Perfume? As if she didn't already have plenty of bottles
cluttering the bathroom. Jewelry? Would look very odd, coming from him.
Something magical? Bit like carryin' coals to Newcastle.
He realized that he didn't have the faintest idea what kind of thing a
vengeance demon turned human might like. *I'd better ask Xander for some
pointers.*
More lingerie, maybe? She'd liked the set of underwear he'd given her as
compensation for the torn bra (which was somehow still among Spike's
possessions even though it no longer carried her scent). But he had no way of
knowing if she'd ever worn the lot. *I wonder if Xander got any fun out
of it...*
His musings were interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Who is it?"
"It's me, Anya. Can I come in?"
"Sure, after all it's YOUR bathroom."
The door opened. Anya looked absolutely stunning. She was dressed in a
red silk kimono style dressing gown that was embroidered with dragons and
Japanese unicorns. It revealed quite a bit of cleavage.
"Oh, um... hi, Anya," Spike said sheepishly, taking a good
look. "I was just thinking of you."
"Spike," she said, smiling strangely. "So, you're back.
We were very worried when you suddenly disappeared without a trace. We missed
you."
She walked towards him. The folds of her kimono parted revealing a bra
and a delicate pair of lace panties in black and burgundy red. Which answered
the question he had asked himself earlier, namely whether the underwear he'd
nicked for her fit. It obviously fit her...very well.
"Yeah?" he replied, more than slightly distracted by Anya's
breathtaking appearance. "I mean, I...um... missed you, too...um... both
of you," he answered a little less articulate than usual. *God, she's
beautiful!* To touch those pretty breasts, to feel her nipples harden under
his caress... His cock which had been quite soft and lazy, content to just
absorb the warmth of the water, made its growing interest known.
She bent over him as if to kiss him on the cheek. Her hands clasped his
wrists that were resting on the rim of the bath tub. There was something cool
and slippery to her touch that startled him out of his daze, but it was too
late.
"Shackle," she said and withdrew. The smile on her face was
gone and replaced by a cold mask. Suddenly, where her hands had touched his
wrists there were thin metal bands that instantly turned into sturdy iron
shackles, which welded themselves to the bathtub, effectively manacling his
hands to the tub.
"Bloody hell! What is this? Anya?" Spike scoffed. He resisted
the urge to fly into a rage. Instead, he forced himself to stay calm. He tried
the manacles, without success. "What is this?" he asked again,
studying her resolved face. "Is this some kind of game? Hadn't figured you
to be into chains 'n' stuff."
But he already knew this wasn't a game. He felt a cold chill spreading
through him.
Anya studied his efforts with grim concentration. Satisfied that the
shackles would hold, she pulled a wooden stake out of her robe.
*Oh, bugger!* Spike tensed.
He doubled his efforts to break free. The manacles cut into his flesh but they
didn't give.
"They're enchanted," she informed him. Her voice was strangely
flat. "You are wasting your time."
"Anya..." he said, searching her face for a sign of
hesitation. "What's going on?"
Spike had no doubt that Anya was capable of staking him. She wasn't
exactly suffering from an excess of conscience.
*God I always knew I'd get done in by a woman. Just reckoned a Slayer
would give me the send off, not a mortal ex-demon ten times my age. And for
what? For shagging her boytoy. For a not-quite-all-the-way-shag, to boot.*
What a way to go down! Not in a good fight, slashing and bashing at
overwhelming odds, but staked while soaking naked in a demon girl's bathtub,
with a soddin' erection, too, that was fortunately concealed by copious amounts
of scented bubbles. *An' my ashes flushed down the drain smelling like
bleedin' coconuts. I'll never live it down, not in a million years of burning
in hell.*
Anya was watching him closely, her face expressionless. Her detachment
was much more unsettling than any display of righteous anger could have been.
Spike swallowed, feeling genuine fear rushing through him. He wasn't
ready to die the true death, especially not now. But he wasn't going to beg.
Big Bads don't beg, not unless it's part of a cunning plan. He braced himself
for the brief stab of pain and whatever came afterwards, while wracking his
brain for the right words to say.
*What on earth is she waiting for?*
"Did you seduce my
fiancé?"
His first reflex was to deny everything. Not that denial ever helped. He
ALWAYS took the rap. Still, old habits die hard and he opened his mouth to do a
verbal back-pedal, when he realized that A) he didn't really want to lie to her
- *Why start now?*, and B) he wasn't quite sure who had seduced whom, so
C) being truthful was a bit tricky and *oh fuck* D) he was taking too
long to answer because Anya was unceremoniously climbing into the tub for
better leverage, causing water and foam to slosh onto the bathroom floor. Using
a strategically placed knee and her left hand to pin him down she took aim and
without much further ado Anya plunged the business end of her stake into his
chest.