|4. The One Who Knows
Spike and Troy’s mission continues, as does Spike’s long-distance teasing-torture of Buffy. Troy gives Spike a lesson in the Raamar and the legend of the Gem.
Music Referenced: Sexting by Ludacris http://youtu.be/7U8znQRZqOY
Some photographs courtesy of FreeFoto.com
|Thanks to YOU for reading! Without you none of this would mean anything! Giant thanks also to Anona for betaing this chapter, including her grammatical and punctuation corrections, wonderful commentary, and final review. All mistakes are mine because I simply cannot stop fiddling right up to the very last moment.
|Rating / Warnings:
NC17. Content is only suitable for mature adults. Contains explicit language, sex, adult themes, and other adult situations that some people may find objectionable. If you are under the age of 17 or find any of these themes objectionable – GO AWAY.
Later that night, Saturday, September 17th, 2011:
After getting checked into the Yuman tribal casino/hotel in Yuma, Spike took a seat in the lobby to wait for Troy to do the same. While he waited, he pulled out his phone and texted Buffy, What R U doing?
Buffy fumbled for her phone when it binged at her, balancing a fussy MacKenzie on one hip as she dug it out of her purse with the other. She continued pushing the grocery cart ahead of her down the aisle with her hips, stomach, and elbow as she read the text from Spike.
groc shpng. U? she sent back one-handed.
Wishing I was kissing U nw. My tongue pressing btwen yor lips. Warm, soft, sweet. mmmm U taste so good, Spike replied, smirking to himself.
Buffy groaned aloud as a wave of heated prickles danced over her body. She stopped walking and closed her eyes a moment, jiggling the redhead lightly to try and soothe the baby’s bad mood. Suddenly, all she could think about were Spike’s lips against hers. She unconsciously licked her lips. She could almost feel his breath against them, cool and sensuous. She shuddered and her inner muscles contracted, moving the little balls around inside her, which only made it worse.
Her phone binged again. She opened her eyes and looked down at it, her breath quickening.
can't W8 2 feel U against me. yor bod writhing undr me. my tongue deep inside U. licking yor sweet cum. U tste like hvn.
“Damn it,” she groaned, biting her bottom lip. She tried desperately to stop her mind from envisioning it, but it was too late. She could feel her nipples harden against her bra and she visibly shuddered right there under the florescent lights of the grocery store.
can't W8 2 grind my hot, tight ltl bod against yors. wnt 2 fuck U deep n hard. do U wnt it? can U feel it, pet?
“You are evil,” Buffy groaned breathlessly to the phone, drawing a funny look from an elderly woman walking past. Buffy gave the woman a wan smile and began to stuff her phone back into her purse. “Husbands,” she breathed, as if that said it all.
want my cock deep inside U, filling U 2 overflowing. Thrusting in, hammering yor pussy. so hot U R. could cum just thinking bout yor tight quim. R U wet thinking bout my hard cock inside U?
Buffy growled as her loins clenched and she felt one of the little balls slide down close to her throbbing opening. Her eyes went wide and she held her breath as her knees and thighs came together automatically, like a small child trying to hold their pee.
“Spike…” she growled, trying desperately to pull the little ball back in instead of pushing it out. That was all she needed: her torturous sex toys to drop onto the floor in the grocery store and roll down the aisle. Or worse, shoot out, ricochet, and shatter something, like the giant glass windows at the front of the store.
Buffy tried to breathe, to relax, and concentrated on drawing her pelvic floor muscles tight and narrowing her opening. Then she felt it. Oh God yes! She was going to cum standing there next to a wall of spring-fresh laundry detergent with her baby on her hip! She was overcome with almost giddy relief – he’d pushed her to the very edge, just one more text and she’d...
She swallowed hard. She couldn’t come in the middle of the freaking laundry aisle with a baby on her hip! Shit! He was turning her into a degenerate … or, well, more of a degenerate. That familiar tingling, that burst of endorphins and … whatever else burst inside when you came, was gathering strength as surely as a tidal wave gathered after a powerful, off-shore earthquake.
Don’t U dare cum, womn! Kp yor promise! xoxoxo
“Argh!” Buffy exclaimed in frustration, her cry coming out louder than she’d intended. She could feel more eyes on her from either end of the aisle. They’d be calling the nice men in the white coats any minute now.
U R evil, she quickly texted back to him.
She stood there another few moments, trying to calm her breathing and slow her pulse by thinking unsexy thoughts: kitty litter, dirty diapers, broccoli, algebra. MacKenzie helped by yelling, “NO!” in her loudest voice, and yanking down on a lock of Buffy’s hair, which the baby had tangled in her small fist.
Keeping the unsexy-thoughts going, Buffy finally managed to work the little marble back away from its precarious perch near her opening. After considerable effort, she got her hormones and body back under control. The feeling of being too close to the edge faded slightly as she reluctantly took a step or two back from the precipice of bliss, and her pulse returned to nearly normal. She took several deep breaths to calm further. Spike was sooo gonna pay for this later.
“What was I supposed to be getting?” she asked her fiery daughter after a few moments. ‘Kenzie made a face, scrunching her nose, eyes, and mouth up into a less-than-helpful reply.
Bing! her phone chimed again. Buffy didn’t even look at it. She just dropped it back in her purse and began moving down the aisle. Maybe if she saw what it was she’d come here for, it would jog her jangled memory.
Spike read the text she sent back, U R evil, and grinned wickedly. He knew he’d gotten her, and that filled him with evil glee.
U R 2 cuz U <3 it, he texted back to her just as Troy walked up to him.
“All set, then?” Spike asked, looking up as he tucked his phone away.
“Yeah, just a couple doors down from you,” Troy replied, showing Spike his room number that the clerk had written on a pamphlet for the casino.
Spike slung his backpack over his shoulder and nodded as the two men started for the elevators.
“You want to get some dinner in the restaurant?” Troy asked as they waited for the elevator.
Spike considered it a minute, then nodded. “Yeah, let me get cleaned up a bit. Meet ya down there in fifteen?”
Troy nodded. He was at once glad the man had accepted the invite and filled with trepidation about spending an hour or so sitting across from Bess’ unsatisfiable father – whom he’d just called a ‘complete asshole’ not half an hour ago – trying to make small talk.
“So,” Spike filled in the silence after the waitress took their dinner orders and left. He took a sip of his beer and nodded approvingly before he continued. “What do ya know about this so-called Great Spirit Aurelius?”
Troy shrugged and took a deep drink of his own beer, trying to calm his nerves a bit. He swallowed and set the glass down slowly, gathering his thoughts. “Well,” he began, “there are different variations of the tale, depending on who's telling it, but you have to go back to the Raamar’s legend of creation to get the whole picture.
“According to legend," Troy continued in his rich basso, "the Earth was created by the Great Creator. He gathered material from the universe and formed the Earth from it like a sculptor would make something from clay. He created the oceans and land with his hands, but it was dark and barren. Unhappy with this, but not certain how to shape it into something more pleasing, he turned to his wife, the Great Spirit, for help. She was pregnant with their first child. She was apparently pretty far along, but seeing her husband’s distress, she came down to his creation to see what she could do.
“The story goes that she had just finished creating trees, flowers, and all types of plants to decorate her husband’s creation, when she went into labor. She bore twins, which, if you don’t know, is something seen a lot in American Indian myths and legends. Some ancient societies look on twins as having special, even supernatural powers; others look at them as abominations – of one soul sharing two bodies – and they’ll actually kill one or both of them at birth … or would … back then,” Troy explained as he settled into relating what he knew to Spike. This he could do. This was something he’d studied since he was a kid and was comfortable with.
“Almost always they’re portrayed in legends and myths as one being all bad and one being all good,” Troy related.
“And I’m guessin’ this is no exception,” Spike interjected.
“Safe guess,” Troy replied, taking another drink of his beer before continuing.
“So, since the Great Spirit bore her twin sons on the Earth, they were now of the Earth and bound to it – they couldn’t leave, so the Great Spirit didn’t leave either. But, eventually, the Great Creator wanted his wife to return to his side in the universe. So, he relinquished his power over his creation, the Earth, to his sons and allowed them to work together to complete what he’d started. They could make anything out of it they wanted or desired.”
“This can’t end well,” Spike murmured. “Leavin’ the bits in charge? Never a good idea.”
Troy smiled, flashing bright white teeth against his latte-colored skin. “So, the two spirit-brothers grew up, pretty much unsupervised, using the Earth as their playground. Their heavy footsteps created lakes, their fingers traced snaking lines across the ground, creating rivers. When they fought, their scrabbling and tumbling created mountains and valleys. You get the idea.
“So, the story goes, these two brothers became more and more different and grew further apart the older they got. One was kind and honorable; the other was cruel and wicked. After a time, they found no joy in the company of the other, so they decided that they needed more inhabitants to keep them company on the earth.
The Honorable Brother created humans in his image so he would have people like him to spend time with. He created the Raamar first, then, happy with how that worked out, he created other tribes and peoples with whom the Raamar could trade. He created buffalo and deer and rabbits, etc. for the Raamar to eat, and showed them the plants that his mother had created that they could grow along the river for food. The Raamar loved the Honorable Brother and held him in highest regard.
“The Wicked Brother, on the other hand, had spent his time creating things like lizards and snakes, scorpions, bats, and … mosquitoes, no-see-ums…”
“No-see-ums? Always wondered where those nasty little buggers came from,” Spike snorted.
Troy grinned again. “Now ya know – blame the Wicked Brother.”
The waitress showed up with their meals. “Sixteen-ounce prime rib, extra rare, with steak fries,” she announced, sliding a plate in front of Spike. “And twenty-ounce sirloin, medium, with baked, all the way. Can I get you boys anything else right now?” she asked as she sat bottles of steak-sauce on the table.
“Couple more beers … Second thought, just bring a pitcher,” Spike requested.
“Will do,” the waitress acknowledged, giving the men a flirty smile which neither man even noticed. Gay. She sighed and headed off to get the beer.
“Right then,” Spike began as he tucked into his bloody slab of beef. “The good, the bad, and the ugly are all on Earth now …” he prompted.
Troy doctored his steak with some A-1, then took a bite and nodded as he chewed, holding a finger up to request a moment. He washed his steak down with some more beer, then continued the tale.
“Now, keep in mind, all this is going on basically in the dark – no one’s created the sun or moon yet,” Troy continued. “I suppose there are stars out in the universe, but nothing else.”
“A world full o’ plants growing in the dark?” Spike questioned, cocking a skeptical brow. “Not bloody likely, that.”
“Hey,” Troy objected, holding his hands up in surrender. “I don’t make it up, just telling you how the folklore went. It’s not much more outlandish than Noah gathering all the animals in the world, two-by-two, for a forty day, forty night pleasure cruise. That’s roughly six and a half million species of land animals – herbivores mixed with carnivores, lions with lambs. Not even considering the decimation of the gene pool each species would suffer if they survived the trip, the resulting carnage would make the ‘Texas Chainsaw Massacre’ look like a cheerful, romantic fairy tale. And that’s assuming it was even possible to gather thirteen million animals onto one hand-built, wooden boat without it sinking.”
Spike shrugged and nodded. “Given this a bit of thought, ‘ave you?”
Troy shrugged his massive shoulders. “I’m an archeologist, a scientist … or will be. I’ve studied lots of different myths of creation – from the Hebrew Bible and translations of the New Testament, to the Koran, to the legends of the Greek Gods – they all have plenty of so-called miracles or just flights of fancy. Ya gotta wonder sometimes if the authors were just very stoned or if they were trying to see if their audience was. I guess I’m a little geeky – I love debunking them with logic and science; it’s kind of a hobby.
“Did you know, for example, that the famous Noah’s Ark story is just a copy of a myth from the Ancient Sumerians from about 2,000 B.C, with only slight variations? I mean – they couldn’t even come up with something original,” Troy continued, clearly getting engrossed in his topic.
“Whatever floats your boat, Indy,” Spike snorted before taking another bite of his quite literally red meat, encouraging Troy to skip back to the Raamar story by circling a finger in the air in front of him in a ‘move it along’ gesture.
“Okay, right. So, Wicked Brother sees these people that Honorable Brother has created, he sees how well they’re treating his brother, and how happy is brother is, and he gets jealous. So, first he sends in his snakes to kill the people, but they defeat the snakes. Then he sends in the scorpions, but they defeat them, as well. After trying a few different things, he decides to create a whole new being that will surely wipe his brother’s admirers out.
“This is where things get a little fuzzy,” Troy admitted. “Most of the versions I’ve heard call the being a ‘Criatura de Sangre’...”
“That’s Spanish: Creature of Blood,” Spike translated.
Troy nodded. “A lot of the tribes down here traded with the Spanish and the Mexicans, so they spoke the language to some degree. There were some other names, but that’s the one most of the books I’ve read used to describe this cruel, bloodthirsty killing machine.”
Troy gulped and looked down at this plate. Shit. Things had been going so well tonight! Why don’t you just keep calling him names, I’m sure that’ll make him warm up to you!
“Been called worse, Indy. Shoe fits and all …” Spike offered with a shrug.
Troy sighed in relief. He cleared his throat a little uncomfortably, then continued, “Obviously now that we know that Aurelius was a vampire, it makes a lot more sense. Everyone just took it to mean that the creature killed by exsanguinating the victims or that maybe it painted blood over the bodies afterwards. Of course, no one thought that the exsanguinations came at the fangs of a vampire … since vampires aren’t real.”
Spike snorted but nodded his understanding.
“So, Wicked Brother creates this ‘Criatura de Sangre’ with the speed and strength of ten men, an unquenchable bloodlust, and the same pure-black, wickedly-evil heart that he has.” Troy gulped again, wondering just how many times he could insult Spike and not suffer some retribution. When Spike just kept eating and didn’t react, Troy kept talking, “He aims this thing at his brother’s tribe like a loaded cannon, lets it go, and sits back on the highest mountain to watch the destruction.”
“By my reckonin’, it didn’t turn out the way the Wicked Witch expected,” Spike interjected as he dipped some fries into the bloody steak juice, and stuffed them into his mouth.
Troy snorted and nodded. “It started out pretty good. He’d catch women and children in the fields or a lone brave off hunting and kill them. When the tribe went to their benefactor with the news, Honorable Brother knew immediately who was responsible.
“He went up to the highest mountain and attacked Wicked Brother. There was a battle so fierce that the legends say it shook the ground. The Wicked Brother threw spears of ice at his brother; Honorable Brother conjured balls of fire to counter the attack. The legends say the brothers destroyed mountains and created craters deeper than the land is wide with their fury.
“When their mother, the Great Spirit, came back and saw how her sons had turned out – how they were trying to destroy each other – she demanded that her husband, the Great Creator, find a way for them to co-exist.
“Knowing that his sons would never be able to live together, but wanting to do as his wife asked, he took Honorable Brother and his fire, and lifted him into the sky to become the sun. Wicked Brother and his silvery-white ice were made into the moon. The two co-exist, but rarely meet – when they do, during eclipses, it’s a time of great celebration, showing the cleverness of the Great Creator to please his wife and allow his sons to live in peace.
“Of course, the two brothers, being polar opposites, continued to struggle against each other even in their new forms. This is evidenced by the fact that part of the year Honorable Brother – the sun – reigns over the Earth for more hours each day than Wicked Brother, and vice versa during other times of the year. Their eternal struggle, it is said, is what created the seasons. In the winter, Wicked Brother has the upper hand; in the summer, Honorable Brother.”
Troy stopped and ate the last bite of his steak while Spike sat back in his chair and downed the last of his beer. They’d gone through the pitcher over dinner and it had taken a little of the edge off Spike’s mood.
“That doesn’t explain how the vampire got t’ be their protector. Sounds t’ me like it was the antagonist in this little fairy tale,” Spike pointed out.
“Not done…” Troy garbled out through a mouth-full of steak, holding a finger up for Spike to wait.
When he swallowed and downed the last of his beer, Troy resumed, “The vampire … or Creature of Blood, being made of all the evil and darkness of the Wicked Brother, was thrilled with the new status-quo. With Wicked Brother gone, he was the biggest bad on the planet. He thought he would become the leader of the Raamar people; he could have anyone he wanted with just a snap of his fingers. There would be no need to hunt the vermin down any longer. He could choose the tastiest morsels, the most beautiful maidens, and the tenderest children for himself.
“There was just one problem he hadn’t expected. When his creator, Wicked Brother, left the sky and the Raamar’s creator entered, he began to smolder and burn. Even cast away from his people, Honorable Brother continued to offer the tribe protection from the creature his brother had created.
“The Great Spirit saw the creature’s torment and, being unwilling to allow anything her sons had created to fall to harm, she demanded her husband create a cave for him, to shelter him during the reign of the sun. Of course, the Raamar were outraged and pled their case to her, begging her to cast the creature out into the light of the Honorable Brother.
“The Great Spirit was sympathetic to their plight, but she remained unwilling to destroy anything her sons had created, so the Great Spirit went to the Creature of Blood and struck a bargain with him. He would be given shelter and not cast out into the light, but he must never prey on the Raamar again and must offer them his protection if ever they call on him. If he, and all that follow in his line, abide by this, then any that are called on by the Raamar people for assistance will be given the Great Spirit’s talisman, which would provide unwavering protection from the Honorable Brother. The Creature agreed.”
Troy stopped and wiped his mouth on his napkin, letting the last of the tale hang in the air between them.
After a moment, Spike summarized, “So, any vamp that these people ask to help them would be given … immunity from the effects of sunlight. A talisman … maybe like a gem, that would protect them.”
Troy cocked a brow and shrugged one shoulder.
“And how many Protector Spirits did they call? Any other than Aurelius?” Spike wondered.
Troy shook his head. “We really don’t have a lot on the Raamar, but Aurelius is the only one that I know of. Doesn’t mean there weren’t more …”
“So, there might be more Gems floatin’ around,” Spike mused.
They both sat in silence a moment as the waitress came, cleared their plates, and left the bill. Spike noticed that Troy didn’t make any move to pick it up. Troy gulped nervously but did start reaching for his wallet when Spike opened the vinyl folder and scanned the check inside. Spike suppressed a smirk – the bloody kid was probably strapped for cash. Workin’ on cataloging artifacts at the University probably didn’t pay much.
“I got it,” Spike told him as he pulled some bills out of his pocket.
“Are you sure, because I’ve got…” Troy began, but Spike waved a hand dismissively, silencing him. “Thanks,” the younger man sighed, stuffing his anemic wallet back into his pocket.
“No worries.” Spike shrugged and leaned back in his chair again, stretching his legs out under the table. He studied Troy a few moments before commenting, “You know all this folklore bollocks about every tribe by heart?”
“No, just a few of them,” Troy admitted.
“But you knew this one…” Spike prodded.
Troy shrugged. “Looked it up after … you know,” he offered.
“Why?” Troy parroted.
“Simple question: why?” Spike repeated. “Why go t’ all this trouble? Musta took a bit o’ time looking up that legend bollocks and finding this old man Bryant. Why?”
Troy shrugged. “I told you before. I love her. It means a lot to Bess, so … that makes it mean a lot to me.”
“And if we can’t ever get ‘er a Gem, then what?” Spike wondered.
Troy shook his head. “It doesn’t matter to me about the daylight. I worry about her – about her safety – but I love her just as much in the moonlight.”
“You know, she’s never gonna get old. When you’re ninety, she’ll look like your bloody great, great, great grandchild,” Spike pointed out. “You’ll be pissin’ in a bag and she’ll be just the same as she is now – just as young … just as horny.”
Troy shifted uncomfortably. Fathers describing their daughters as 'horny' was just ... scary wrong. “I know it’s not perfect…” Troy began.
“That’s a bloody understatement,” Spike cut in, leaning forward.
Troy gave him a determined look. “Not perfect, but few things ever are. All relationships have challenges, ours will just be a little different than most.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Indy. You’ll have all the same bloody challenges and, on top o’ that, you’ll have more. She’s a bloody vampire – she’s not gonna age, not gonna ‘ave kids, not ever gonna be normal.”
“I knew she wasn’t normal the first time I laid eyes on her, standing there in the street fondling my bike. Don’t you get it? That’s the thing that makes me love her: she’s not a fucking lemming … she’s not normal. She looks at the world and sees beauty and wonder in the smallest things. She has no idea how beautiful she is; how heads turn when she walks into a room or how she can light up the night with her smile. She’s smart and funny and just the most amazing woman I’ve ever known. She can kick my ass, but when she touches me, she can be as gentle as a butterfly. The only thing that scares me about her is … she’s so afraid of love.”
Spike studied the larger man for a few silent moments. Troy’s aquamarine eyes seemed to glow with the sincerity of his words. Finally Spike nodded and looked away from the young man, his eyes seemingly focused on something, or some time, far away, before he spoke again. “She’s got what ya’ might call ‘abandonment issues’. How much has she told ya about her life before comin’ to Sunnydale?”
Troy shook his head. “Not a lot. She says what’s done is done, that there’s no sense in re-hashing it, but I can tell whatever it was, it’s still there, underneath, holding her back.”
Spike looked back and met Troy’s eyes. “It’s not my place t’ tell her story. That’s up to her if she wants ya to know. What I can tell ya is this: she’s a Slayer and a vampire … and Summers besides. Stubborn don’t begin to describe that deadly combination. By my reckoning, if you want ‘er to open up to you, you’re gonna have to push – hard. Pushing a Summers girl that hard could get ya a right thrashing; pushing a Slayer-vamp-Summers girl could get ya killed.”
Troy gulped. He was pretty sure Spike wasn't speaking in metaphors. “S-so … what are you advising?” Troy asked, looking at Spike questioningly.
“Death or stubborn silence, take your bloody pick.”
Spike pushed his chair back and began to rise.
“That’s not much of a choice,” Troy pointed out.
Spike gave him a wry smile. He tossed Troy’s words back at the young man, “Nothin’s perfect.” Then Spike sauntered away towards the lobby, leaving Troy sitting there alone in stunned silence.
Next: Spike and Troy's mission continues. Spike and Buffy share a little dream.
Sexting by Ludacris
just sitting in this rehab class
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