Written for the seasonal spuffy community on LJ and beta'ed by the lovely Kantayra.
Post Chosen.
Elementary
Air
The first step was easier than anything Buffy had ever done.
All it had taken was a phone call from Giles in London. He had
contacted Wesley to invite him to join them – as well as to ask him
what he thought he was doing, working for an evil law firm. Buffy
strongly suspected Wesley had not signed on; Giles would have mentioned
it if he had. What she did know, because it had been why Giles had
called her, was that Spike was alive. Or at least, he was back. Giles
had said something rather nonsensical about burning and ghosts, but she
hadn’t really listened, her mind still stuck on three words.
Spike was back.
She was so going to kick his ass.
She had a hundred reasons to do so. No, a thousand. As many reasons as
minutes that had passed since she had run out of the collapsing
Hellmouth. As many reasons as miles she had put between herself and the
crater.
As many reasons as tears she had shed.
She had smiled, at first and meant it. She had survived. Her sister,
her best friends, her Watcher had survived. And so many of the girls…
each life, a cause for more smiles. Grief had caught up with her three
nights after they had driven away from Sunnydale. In an empty, bland
hotel room, with the first bit of privacy she had had in what had felt
like years, reality had crashed down on her.
Spike had died because of her, because he had loved her. And he had
never even believed himself loved in return. She would never be able to
tell him, never be able to express words and emotions that she could
barely whisper in the silence of her own mind.
Now, he was back.
She internally raged against the slowness of her flight, but she never
questioned how or even why he had survived. She had sent a lover to
hell, once, and gotten him back. She had been gifted with a sister,
created from a few drops of blood. She herself had been brought back
from the dead. It didn’t seem so extraordinary that Spike had returned.
In any case, there would be time for explanations later. As soon as she
had kicked Spike’s ass across Los Angeles. Hell, across the whole
state of California.
She took a cab from the airport to downtown LA, rubbing her damp palms
over her jeans the whole time, wishing she had the patience to stop at
a hotel, freshen herself up. Maybe change, put on some make-up. After
she’d cried for a bit.
The office building seemed immense, and a shiver ran down her spine as
she approached it. She knew where this firm stood on the big
good-versus-evil chessboard. She still couldn’t puzzle out why Angel
was here, but that wasn’t why she had come. She would have been glad to
see Spike without coming to Angel. After all, she had given him hope
that night in the cemetery, and she wasn’t too sure anymore why she had.
“Buffy? Oh. My. God!”
So much for stealth… Buffy had just come out of the elevator when she
heard her name practically shouted through the lobby. The shrill voice
was all too easy to identify, and Buffy cringed even as she stared in
surprise. Harmony was behind the receptionist’s desk. Harmony.
Definitely not someone she wanted to see. And next to her stood Wesley
and Angel. Not what she had come for, but she strode toward them
nonetheless. They both seemed rather stunned to see her.
“I’m not going to ask why you’re working with Harmony,” she told the
both of them without preamble. “Who, by the way, was trying to kill me
last time I saw her. And I’m not going to ask why you sold your souls
to the devil, or whether you did that for real or just metaphorically…”
“Hello Buffy,” Angel interrupted her very calmly. “Would you like to step into my office before you become more of a spectacle?”
Looking around, she found that all eyes, human and demon alike, were on
her. She shivered, goosebumps running down her spine, and nodded curtly
before following Angel.
Wesley closed the door behind her and asked, “I take it you talked to Giles?”
Before she could reply, Angel shot him an icy look. “Giles?”
“He called me, a couple of days ago,” Wesley replied serenely.
“And you told him about…” He cut himself short and looked back at Buffy, concerned.
Crossing her arms, she met his gaze steadily. “Yes, Wes told Giles, and Giles told me. Where is he?”
Angel’s gaze darkened before he turned his back on her and walked away.
“What about baking times and cookie dough,” he muttered almost
inaudibly before leaning against the edge of the heavy desk.
Angel’s gaze shifted toward him. “Why don’t you try to find Spike, Wes? And I’ll fill Buffy in on his…condition.”
Buffy’s heart jumped inside her chest and she didn’t wait for Wesley’s departure. “What condition? Was he hurt? Did…”
“I can’t believe you came all the way from Europe to see him,” Angel
interrupted her. “You didn’t even stop after your battle. Do you have
any idea how worried I was?”
“I called,” she defended herself, chin raised high. “And excuse me for
not wanting to step into the lion’s den after having dealt with a
Hellmouth. What are you doing here anyway?”
“You said you weren’t going to ask,” he threw her own words back at
her. “But then, you also said something about not being ready to be
with anyone, and here you are running back to Casper like he’s the love
of your life or something.”
Suppressing a sigh, Buffy didn’t point out that he sounded like a
jealous teenager. Instead, she tried to control her voice and remain
calm. Whatever Angel thought he was doing here, Buffy had not come to
LA to hurt him, and part of her was truly sorry that she would.
“I thought I was about to die,” she explained quietly. “Those last few
days before the battle were…intense, so you’ll have to forgive me if my
words went beyond what I meant. I never wanted to hurt you.”
She expected an answer. But, instead, his eyes moved to look behind
her. She hadn’t heard the door open, but she turned nonetheless and was
struck speechless when she saw Spike, only a few feet behind her. He
looked exactly the same as when she had left him to certain death, but
he had never seemed as utterly immobile as he did now. The look on his
face, however, she knew all too well: pure grief. Too late, she
realized he must have heard what she had been telling Angel; and with
her luck, he had thought it applied to her last words to him too.
“Heard a rumor there’s a Slayer in the house,” he said, his features
smoothing over until Buffy couldn’t read any emotions on them anymore.
“There’s one,” Angel replied just as tonelessly.
Standing between the two of them, Buffy had never felt so awkward. She
wanted to talk to Spike, needed it, at that instant, as much as she
needed to breathe, but she couldn’t with Angel standing there.
“Would you mind giving us a minute, Angel?”
Her eyes never left Spike, and she could see the tension mounting in
his body at her words; she could see, also, Angel’s own stiff back as
he walked by her, and hear his muttered, slightly childish protest that
it was his office. The door banging shut seemed to push her into
motion, and in three strides, she joined Spike, smiling even as her
eyes prickled with tears.
“I’m so glad you’re back!”
He started shaking his head, but she ignored his protest and threw her arms around him.
They closed around thin air.
Taking a step to the side, Spike gave her a lopsided smile. “The big
brooder didn’t tell you, did he? Didn’t expect him to. Didn’t expect
him to tell you I was here at all, to tell the truth.”
“He didn’t,” Buffy answered absently, and tentatively reached out with her right hand. It slid right through Spike’s arm.
“So, you came here to see him?”
His voice seemed colder suddenly, and Buffy met his gaze before she spoke.
“I came to see you.”
Something seemed to spark in his eyes, but it died with a self-deprecating smirk as he spread his arms.
“See me? Hey, look all you want, luv, ‘cause there’s definitely no
touching on the menu.” He let out a quiet snort. “And no seeing,
sometimes, too. I tend to disappear without warning.”
He had only said a few words, and already Buffy had a hundred
questions, but there was something more important given that Spike had
probably heard her conversation with Angel.
“Listen, the reason I came…” Why were the words so hard, suddenly? Why
was her voice trembling? Damn, but it would have helped simply to hold
on to him, to just feel him there.
“It’s just nice you did,” he murmured when she hadn’t spoken for a long
while. “Whatever your reason. Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”
These few words seemed to loosen something inside Buffy’s chest.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again either,” she replied, swallowing a sigh. “But what I said, in the cave, before…”
But it was too late; Spike faded to nothing in front of her. She stared
at the spot where he had disappeared, almost expecting him to come
back, but she remained alone until a soft knock on the door startled
her. She turned just in time to see Angel enter and look around the
room.
“He does that all the time,” he said with a shrug. “He’ll be back.”
There was a hint of resignation in his voice, and if she hadn’t been so worried about Spike, Buffy might have wondered about it.
“When?”
Another shrug. “It’s rather random. No way to tell, really. Not that I’ve been keeping track.”
She waited an hour, but exhaustion finally took its toll on her.
Obtaining Angel’s promise that he’d call her cell as soon as Spike
reappeared, she went in search of a hotel, hugging herself as she left
the building.
Spirit
When Buffy was lucky, Spike would be around when she visited Wolfram
& Hart and they’d spend some time talking. They sometimes
disagreed, as they talked of anything and everything, from Dawn’s
interest in magic to the fiasco that had been their relationship. But
for the first time in the six years they had known each other,
disagreeing didn’t end with blows. Some of these most heated talks left
both of them raw and aching, and maybe a touch would have helped, then,
yet Buffy could recognize how much they were gaining by having to
remain on a purely verbal level.
But more and more often, she wasn’t so lucky as to find him waiting for
her when she arrived at the firm. At first, she had believed Spike’s
claim that his bouts of disappearance were nothing to worry about. But
as they became more frequent, she did worry; and she noticed she wasn’t
the only one.
Fred was a little reluctant to talk to her about it at first, but once
Buffy made it clear that she needed to know, Fred told her about
Spike’s confession. It hurt a little that he hadn’t trusted her with
something so important, the way he had trusted Fred. It only proved, if
need be, that words had not fixed everything.
He had asked her what she expected from him during their most recent
talk, and she had answered that she had come to find the friend she had
never allowed herself to have. Neither of them seemed to believe that.
But what could she say? That she had seen the errors of her ways? That
she was ready to forgive and move on, if he would only do the same?
They had started something, back in Sunnydale, in those last
few days, and she could admit that her heart wouldn’t have beaten so
wildly all the way from Rome if all she had wanted to do had been to
see a friend.
A knock on the door in the middle of the morning startled her; no one
knew where she was exactly, save for Spike. She opened the door,
thinking it had to be a mistake, and froze when she discovered a
grinning Spike.
She started to reach out toward him, but the grin took a bitter edge as he shook his head.
“Still a spook,” he said. “Just learned a few tricks.”
She let him in and he soon had explained everything; the monster that
had haunted the firm and played with him, and Fred’s attempt at giving
him his body back. Despite her best efforts, Buffy couldn’t prevent the
tears from rising to her eyes.
“Hey, none of that, now,” Spike chided her.
She watched, fascinated, as he slowly brought a finger to her face, his
brow furrowed in concentration, until he touched the tear that had
rolled down her cheek. She shivered. Instinctively, she raised her hand
to grab his, and he pulled away as her fingers met nothing but air.
“I wish I had been there,” she said wistfully. “I could have helped maybe. And maybe you’d be…”
“Shh… Maybe’s don’t help. Fred will find a way. She’s a clever bird. And in the meantime…”
Again, his features tensed as he focused, and she dropped her gaze from
his face to his hand, slowly advancing toward hers. Without thinking,
she raised it, palm turned toward him, and saw him falter as his eyes
sought hers, recognition evident in their depths.
“I meant it, you know,” she said, unable to speak above a whisper. She
hadn’t planned to say it like this, so abruptly. But as his hand slowly
connected with hers, as their fingers easily fell into place and
clasped together, she could almost feel the fire again, and it was
burning as molten lava in his voice when he answered.
“I know.”
Then, oh so quietly, he added, “I knew.”
Something loosened in Buffy’s chest, a knot of pain she had learned to
live with since the Hellmouth had collapsed. She didn’t ask why he had
denied her words then. She could guess his reasons. But to know that he
had believed in her love when he had died meant the world to her. And
it was easier, suddenly, to tell him as much.
Water
The water was cooling down around her, the scented bubbles slowly
disappearing, and Buffy thought about getting out of her bath. She did
nothing more than stretch though, and added more hot water to the tub.
She had had a long day. She should have known from the start that
something was wrong. If there had been another group trying to recreate
the Council, Giles would certainly have mentioned it to her. She
couldn’t help but wonder who had sent those ninja robots or whatever
they had been.
She had just come back from Wolfram & Hart where Fred was still
working on helping Spike become corporeal again, but every day that
passed seemed to be one more eternity. Buffy didn’t like Los Angeles
much, and she had been calling Rome to check on Dawn every few days.
But as long as Spike was stuck here, she would stay. And when he would
get his body back…
She was afraid to hope for too much. She was afraid to hope, period.
Things between them had always been complicated at best, downright
chaotic at worst, and she was rather sure that things had been simpler,
quieter this time around because they couldn’t touch. No way to fuck
each other’s brains out, or beat each other senseless; words had not
always been easy, but they had made some progress. More and more, she
kept wondering what would have happened if…
What if their relationship had remained what it had been the last few
days before her death, or the first few weeks after her return? What if
she had allowed herself to even look at him for who he was rather than
stopping at the vampire part of the equation? What if she hadn’t cared
so damn much what the Scoobies might think of her caring for another
vamp, soulless this time? What if things had not been so hectic when he
had returned with his soul? What if they had had time to get to know
each other again, as they had done since she had come to LA?
What if she had found a way to save him from the Hellmouth?
Closing her eyes and sinking lower in the warm again water, she
admitted it to herself – she missed his touch. Talking was nice,
certainly, and without doubt necessary, but she could remember with the
utmost clarity the last time she had lain in his arms, and she couldn’t
fathom having abandoned that place of safety and warmth of her own
accord. Couldn’t consider either the idea of not feeling his arms close
on her ever again. Fred had to find a way. She just had to.
His name passed her lips, a barely audible whisper that yet seemed to
echo in the room. She could almost feel his touch, after all these
weeks, feel his hand, barely there, chaste but nonetheless present, and…
Her eyes were still closed but she realized what was happening and shook her head. The phantom touch ceased.
“I don’t want you to think that’s why I came back,” she sighed. “I used
you more than enough already; I’m not getting off again unless you are
too.”
A quiet snort was the only answer she received. Opening her eyes, she
blinked at the incongruous image in front of her, then laughed.
Appearing to sit in the tub in front of her, Spike was completely
clothed, the duster bunched up behind him. His features hardened
slightly at her laughter, but then he looked down at himself and seemed
to understand what she found so funny.
“I could correct that very easily,” he commented with a sly grin, and Buffy shook her head again.
“How about you give me some privacy instead?”
He tilted his head to the side, giving her body an appreciative leer
through the water and bubbles to the point that she crossed her arms
over her chest.
“Nothing I haven’t seen before, luv. And I really don’t mind the view.”
She rolled her eyes at him. “Pig.”
It was his turn to laugh, and he made a show of standing and stepping out of the tub, shaking imaginary water off his body.
“I’ll wait for you in the other room, then. Don’t be too long.”
Even as used to his quasi ghost status as she was, it was still mildly
disturbing to see him walk through the door, and Buffy lost her amused
smile. Shivering, she stood and quickly dried herself before slipping
on a bathrobe.
Spike was lying down on her bed when she walked out of the bathroom,
hands locked behind his head on the pillow. Her heart tightened for a
second at the illusion that he was fully there.
“I think it’s time for goodnights,” she murmured, unable to raise her voice or meet his eyes. “It’s been a long day and…”
“You’re planning on calling ghost busters?” he asked, his straight face
only betrayed by a twitching eyebrow. “’Cause unless you do, I’m not
going anywhere right now.”
She was about to insist and demand that he leave, but something in his
eyes stopped her. She had seen that look before. It almost seemed like
he was preparing to be rejected.
Without another word, she walked to the bed and climbed on top of the
coverlet, lying on her side next to him. He turned to face her, and the
wary glint in his gaze slowly faded. She only closed her eyes when it
had fully disappeared.
“Good night, Spike.”
“’Night, Buffy.”
She could have sworn she felt his lips brush her cheek just as she was
starting to fall asleep. She was smiling when she drifted away, and the
smile was still there when she woke up. Spike was gone, but the sheet
of paper on the pillow next to her, although blank, was enough of a
goodbye.
Fire
As she paced through Fred’s lab, Buffy glowered at the handful of
people tied to stretchers, their eyes still bleeding as they struggled
in their bonds. Harmony was one of them, as was Gunn. Gunn had
assaulted that annoying girl that served as liaison, and Harmony had
tried to bite Fred. Buffy had arrived just in time to intervene in that
last case, and it was only the lack of a stake that had kept Harmony
undusty.
Fred’s explanation of what was happening incurred her bad temper: the
universe was shifting, in danger of imploding, all because Spike,
through a mysterious box, had regained his body.
She didn’t really mind the apocalypse warnings; she had survived enough
of those to keep her cool about them. What was truly irking her was
that he had regained his body, and, instead of coming to share the good
news with her, he had chosen to piss off Angel.
“I still think we should go after them,” she grumbled, not for the
first time, as Fred was checking Gunn’s heartbeat. The woman threw her
a commiserating look.
“They were halfway there by the time you got here,” she pointed out,
not for the first time. “And they’re probably… here, actually.”
Buffy turned in time to see Angel step into the lab. His face was bruised and bloody, and he walked with a limp.
“What happened?” she demanded, her heart jumping to her throat in fear for Spike’s fate. “What did you do to him?”
Angel rolled his eyes at her accusatory tone. “I’m all right, Buffy, thanks for asking.”
The retort burning her lips faded as Spike walked in. He looked as
startled to see her there as she was to see him bloodied. Hurt was
better than dust, certainly, but not hurt at all would have been even
better.
“Hey, luv,” he said with a nervous smile in response to her frown. “I was just about to clean up a bit and come to see you.”
“I see,” she replied coldly, crossing her arms over her chest as anger
and relief battled inside her. “So your agenda for the day you became
corporeal again was to piss off Angel first, and come brag to me after
that?”
“It’s not—” he started, but she didn’t let him finish.
“Which makes me wonder if you fell for me in the first place just so
you could annoy him. Is that what it was, Spike? Get both his girl and
his shanshu?”
Buffy was aware of the people around her, but all her attention was on Spike, and on his slowly hardening features.
“Didn’t think either belonged to him. Maybe I was wrong.”
The jealousy and childishness tinting his words were clear as crystal,
and made Buffy wonder what it would take to make him see reason. Hadn’t
she been plain enough since coming to LA? What else was she supposed to
do to convince him? After worrying so much about him for the past hour
or so, this was just too much.
“And maybe I was wrong to come here,” she snapped before striding out
of the room, barely biting back the comment that he ought to grow up.
She had not reached the elevator yet and she was already regretting her
words. She had barely walked out of the building when she realized they
had literally thrown away weeks of working to get past the barrier of
words. She almost turned back then, ready to apologize and start from
scratch, but she was too wound up still to talk to him rationally.
Maybe a couple of hours would calm both of them down.
She took her time going back to the hotel, walking rather than taking a
cab, and when she reached her door Spike was standing in front of it.
He had cleaned the blood off his face, but the bruises were still
visible and she winced at their sight. Then she noticed what he was
holding, and she blinked in surprise. She couldn’t remember him ever
offering her flowers before.
“Fred suggested them,” he said, slightly sullen, noticing what she was
staring at, and thrust the bouquet at her. She took the roses by pure
reflex.
“It doesn’t erase anything you did,” she said, her throat tight. “Or anything I said.”
Both his hands now thrust into his coat’s pockets, he shrugged.
“Isn’t that on par for the course for us? I do something for you, and you end up angry with me because of it.”
There was such resignation in his voice that Buffy sighed. Why did they
have to play this game, still? One step forward and two back, all along
the way.
“Don’t tell me you fought with Angel for me.” Shaking her head, she
walked to the door and opened it. Spike looked at her askance when she
stepped in, and she had to open it a little wider for him to follow.
“But I did,” he insisted. “If that destiny was mine, if I’m the one
who’s going to be human, then I can give you what you wanted and…”
“Wait a second there,” she interrupted him, incredulous. “Where did you get the idea what I want someone human?”
His answer was no more than a perplexed frown.
“Not sure if you’ve noticed,” she continued, “but my human boyfriends?
Pretty much a complete fiasco. I don’t need you to play that game. I
love you as you are.”
It was only when he stared at her in shock that she realized what she
had said. She had meant her declaration back on the Hellmouth, but she
had never found the courage to say it again. Until now.
And if it was time for long overdue admissions…
“I could have loved you without the soul,” she murmured. “You weren’t
that different. I just don’t think I was able to love anyone at the
time. All I could do was hurt. Hurt inside, and hurt you, and just be
such a bitch and…”
“Hey, enough of that now,” he growled as he stepped to her. “No one can call you a bitch ‘cept me.”
Whatever she had been about to say fled her mind as his mouth found
hers. The kiss held all the fire and hunger Spike hadn’t been able to
express physically in weeks – and it left her a little dazed. The
roses, forgotten, fell to the floor as she clutched at his back.
“We probably should slow down,” he mumbled as his mouth drifted along
her jaw and to her ear. “Don’t wanna break everything by going too fast
and…”
Pulling back, she looked straight into his eyes and found what she was
looking for. He was looking at her today the same way he had been for
years. With the same love.
“We’ve already taken things slow enough. I say it’s time to catch up.”
Somehow, she wasn’t all that surprised when he didn’t protest any further.
Another fiery kiss robbed all thoughts from her, and she soon found
herself on her bed and naked – and rather unsure how either thing had
happened.
“Too long,” Spike was mumbling against her skin, leaving trails of fire
on her with nothing more than kisses. “Much too long. Never going to
last. Can’t…”
Flipping them over so she was above him, she had no trouble
understanding what he meant. Between their bodies, his cock was rock
hard, and Spike practically arched off the bed she touched him, having
slid to the side to give her hand enough room to play.
“Don’t try to fight it,” she whispered against his lips, pumping his
dick slow and tight. “It’s not the end, just the beginning.”
As much as her touch, her words seemed to do the trick, and it wasn’t
look before he shuddered and came in her hand, his moan muffled by her
mouth on his.
She watched him lay still for a moment; she had never looked at him
like this, right after he had come, his face so relaxed, practically
glowing… He was beautiful. And she told him as much. He answered her
with a kiss, and his hands seemingly all over her body at once.
Had she been able to think, she would have realized he had to be
starved for touch. But then, so was she, and it wasn’t until early the
next morning that they fell asleep holding each other, sated. At least
for the moment.
Earth
Waking up in Spike’s arms – and realizing that there was no place else
she would rather have been – was an experience in and of itself for
Buffy. A small part of her had almost expected habits to take over and
cause her to leave; but nothing of the sort was happening. She was
perfectly fine where she was, except for the beginning of a crick in
her neck that made her shift her head from where it rested on his
shoulder. His arm tightened at her waist when she moved, and Spike,
although still asleep, let out a quiet growl of protest that she
shushed quietly.
“Shh… Not going anywhere,” she murmured. “At least not until you wake up.”
Her cheek now resting on Spike’s chest, she felt him take a breath before he replied.
“And where will you go when I do?”
Her fingers playing idly over his skin, she answered with some
hesitation, fearing that she was going too fast. “Depends on where
you’ll want to go with me. The planet’s pretty big, and it’s all ours.”
She had a brief vision of the two of them visiting big cities of the
world, playing tourists by night and staying in their hotel rooms by
day. It was – just a little – over the top, but it made her grin.
“But Rome does come to mind,” she finished more reasonably. “I can’t
leave Dawn alone forever with Andrew. He acts more like a kid than she
does, sometimes.”
Seconds trickled away into silence, and Buffy felt cold cover her like
a blanket at Spike’s lack of response. Could it be that he didn’t want
to go with her? Had she read too much into a fiery night?
“Tell me what you’re thinking?” she asked softly, shifting away from
him so she could see his face. He looked very serious, and just a
little bit afraid.
“Something big is brewing here. I’m not sure what, but it’s coming.
Someone sent that bloody amulet to Angel; someone made me corporeal
again; someone sent us to chase after an illusion. This someone wanted
me to mess with Angel’s head, or dust him. Both things could have been
fun, but I don’t like being anyone’s puppet. If I kick his ass, it’ll
be because he’s a wanker, not because I’ve been set up.”
She watched him for a long moment; the last time she had seen him this
determined he had been about to take down the Hellmouth by himself.
“That means you’re staying in Los Angeles, doesn’t it?” she asked with a slight sigh.
His smile was very close to a grimace. “I’ve got to. Just to make sure
Angel doesn’t fuck up royally. Or to say ‘told you so’ when he does.
And the rest of his gang isn’t half bad. It’d be a pity if bad things
happened to them.”
He laughed then, and she quirked an eyebrow at him, silently asking what was so funny.
“It’s all your fault,” he accused her. “Three years ago, I wouldn’t
have given a damn what happened to them as long as I got you. And now I
think I can help them so I’m ready to let you go…”
The importance of his words seemed to crash down on him, and his amusement disappeared in one pained look.
“I love you,” he said, his voice almost shaking in intensity. “Never stopped. Don’t think I ever will. But Rome…”
“I do have to check on Dawn,” she interrupted softly. “And see what she
wants to do. But nothing says I can’t come back. And stay.”
His lips were on hers the instant she finished, grateful, demanding and
overwhelming. It occurred to her, before all conscious thought
disappeared into burning pleasure, that for once she was the one giving
rather than receiving. She had never realized it could feel this good,
or be this easy.
The characters and names used in these stories do not
belong to me. All copyrights remain with Fox and Mutant Enemy. No
profit is made from this fanfiction.
