The Artifact: Chapter Five
Oo I'm so excited. I outlined the end of this fic, and I think it just needs 1.5 more chapters. And seeing as how there are 17 written chapters, I figure I better get posting so this can finish up before New Year's!
Chapter One Here
Chapter Five: Let’s Get Magistering
Giles stormed out of the magistrate’s office. “Sexist, condescending…” He turned and glared back at the doorway he’d just come out of. “I am not ‘well aged’. What am I? Wine? Cheese?”
Buffy tried really really hard not to laugh. “She was flirting with you.”
“It’s a place of business.”
“I guess I should do the talking.”
“I am not some… some sidekick to wait in the wings! Buffy, you don’t understand the nuance of their written law. I’ve studied this.”
“Which doesn’t matter if they won’t listen to you.” Buffy took his arm. “Come on. Just… whisper to me what to say. Like that sewer-nose guy.”
“Cyrano de Bergerac.”
“Yeah, him. We’ll get through this.”
Giles sighed, wiped and adjusted his glasses. “Spike is going to owe me for this,” he said, but nodded. “Once more into the breach.”
***
When the Street Longue clientele finally let him up for air, an obsequious servant motioned Spike to the exit. “Room seven,” the servant said.
“I’m a mess. Give a bloke a break.”
“No time,” the servant said, and pointed to a curtained alcove with a shrug.
Spike groaned. They expected him to do the quick wipe. This was going to leave him in no state fit to anything within a few days. Which was, as the Mistress had so elegantly stated, the point. Standard operating procedure: if you’re going to lose someone, ride ‘em into the ground. Nothing left for a possible competitor to use or sell.
Hard luck for them he was a vampire. He’d be fine as you please after a rest and some blood and enjoy every second of his excellent arse not being Wrella’s. He almost missed the opportunity to hate-fuck her one last time before he left, just to see her trying to save up every minute in the old wank-bank.
Spike limped into the alcove and took down the bottle of cleaning fluid. He hissed as it dripped on an abrasion on his forearm - damn stone couches. He’d gotten sloppy holding on for a spot of gang-bang, which always seemed to happen in the Street Lounge around mid-day. There were discounts for sharing, and lunch-break johns were always in a hurry. It had its advantages though: aside from an occasional arse-wiggle and shouting encouragement when his mouth was otherwise unoccupied, he didn’t have to do any acting.
Julla peered under the alcove curtain. “There’s been a cancellation,” she said. She frowned. “And you’re to be with Lady Salveri in half an hour. I’ll move Emerald to suite seven. Why don’t you stop now and wash?”
“Lovely,” Spike said, and gladly put the bottle down.
“Don’t tell Wrella,” Julla said. Like he would.
He limped as fast as he could to the bathing room. He dropped his clothes as he went straight to the water. Hot and mineral-infused. It smelled and felt heavenly. He sighed as he sank into it and laid back, closing his eyes.
A soft splash heralded another body entering the tub. Spike groaned. He recognized the scent.
A large hand rested on his arm. “Is the rumor true? You are leaving us, brother?”
“Not your brother, pouf. Piss off.”
“Why must one so beautiful be so cruel? I may never see you again.”
Spike shoved the man back as he tried to climb into his lap. “I have barely any time to myself before my next job, G, and I want to spend it soaking. Alone.”
Ganymede put his hand on Spike’s thigh. “Will you really leave without ever having kissed me of your own free will?”
“Looks like.”
“You ARE cruel. I had hoped over time to win you over.” His hand crept up Spike’s thigh. Spike stopped it and moved it back to its owner’s lap. Gany sighed. “No one EVER leaves here. I can’t believe my luck. There’s never been anyone else half as intriguing to me as you have been.”
Spike decided to just lie still and hope Ganymede lost interest. He couldn’t hurt the pouf, and he wanted nothing more than a few moments of letting the warmth of the bath sink into his flesh while his mind did nothing at all.
He was getting good at that. He hardly felt the hands, the mouth on his neck. His mind was busy, though, not shutting down like he wanted. He slit one eye open. “How long’ve you been here, G?”
“Twice as long as you have, and the first decade was excruciatingly dull.”
Spike opened both eyes. “Guess they don’t need vampires to keep their whores young.”
Gany lowered his lashes. “You flatter me.”
“You said you’ve never seen anyone leave in all that time? Why is that?”
“Well, where would we go? We haven’t got a private owner claiming us like you have. The old leave. No one cares where they go. Except the almost-old.” His smile got a strained look to it and Spike almost felt sorry for the rapacious bugger.
So he didn’t move away as G nibbled his earlobe. Instead he said, “The mistress said something to me - real evil-villain-soliloquy bollocks about how I’ll come back whether I like it or not. You know anything about that?”
G stroked Spike’s chest. “Would you reward me if I did?”
Spike groaned. “You don’t know bollocks.” He pushed away and climbed out of the bath, feeling heavy and weary.
Gany followed. Of course he did. Spike suspected the harlot-masters did something to up the sex drive of their human whores. Spike batted his hands away as he dried himself. “Leave off. I’ve got a date with a regular.”
G rested his hands on Spike’s hips in a way he no doubt thought was playful. “Man or woman?”
“Woman. But that still means get off.”
“Perhaps she’ll want to watch two men together.”
“What are the odds?” Spike rolled his eyes. He picked up his discarded clothes to carry back to his room. “For a matriarchy there sure is a steady diet of cock around here.”
He shouldn’t have brought up cocks, of course, because Ganymede grabbed Spike’s wedding tackle and stopped him short, pulling him back against his own naked body. “Hardly. I haven’t had so much as a lick in ages.”
Spike closed his eyes and held still, repeating ‘can’t fight, can’t fight’ and how he hated that that was his mantra. “Customer waiting,” he said. G reluctantly let him go.
***
Buffy and Giles sat together in the early-morning light outside their hotel in the city of the ancient artificers. The façade of the brothel was just in sight in the distance.
“I can’t take another day of court hearings,” Buffy said. “Can’t we just… grab him?”
“We would need to all be together, and it would need to not be within the brothel, or presumably within sight of its magic-wielding mistress. I highly doubt they’ll lend him to us.” Giles sighed. “One more day. They will surely hear the case tomorrow. That’s what the bailiff said.”
Buffy wondered what Spike was up to at that precise moment, and then immediately wished she hadn’t wondered. “I’m going to see if I can get this sped up some,” she said. “Maybe they WILL lend him to us? If we ask the right way.”
“Buffy? I hope you aren’t suggesting what I think you are suggesting.”
“Like… eeew!” She stood and stretched. “I’m talking talk. Like… geishas made tea right? I’m not going to… way with the no. And we have to wait until court-time anyway. I’ll just… ask around. See what the protocol is.”
“All right.” Giles sighed. “I’ll meet you here before lunch?”
Continued >>
Chapter One Here
Chapter Five: Let’s Get Magistering
Giles stormed out of the magistrate’s office. “Sexist, condescending…” He turned and glared back at the doorway he’d just come out of. “I am not ‘well aged’. What am I? Wine? Cheese?”
Buffy tried really really hard not to laugh. “She was flirting with you.”
“It’s a place of business.”
“I guess I should do the talking.”
“I am not some… some sidekick to wait in the wings! Buffy, you don’t understand the nuance of their written law. I’ve studied this.”
“Which doesn’t matter if they won’t listen to you.” Buffy took his arm. “Come on. Just… whisper to me what to say. Like that sewer-nose guy.”
“Cyrano de Bergerac.”
“Yeah, him. We’ll get through this.”
Giles sighed, wiped and adjusted his glasses. “Spike is going to owe me for this,” he said, but nodded. “Once more into the breach.”
***
When the Street Longue clientele finally let him up for air, an obsequious servant motioned Spike to the exit. “Room seven,” the servant said.
“I’m a mess. Give a bloke a break.”
“No time,” the servant said, and pointed to a curtained alcove with a shrug.
Spike groaned. They expected him to do the quick wipe. This was going to leave him in no state fit to anything within a few days. Which was, as the Mistress had so elegantly stated, the point. Standard operating procedure: if you’re going to lose someone, ride ‘em into the ground. Nothing left for a possible competitor to use or sell.
Hard luck for them he was a vampire. He’d be fine as you please after a rest and some blood and enjoy every second of his excellent arse not being Wrella’s. He almost missed the opportunity to hate-fuck her one last time before he left, just to see her trying to save up every minute in the old wank-bank.
Spike limped into the alcove and took down the bottle of cleaning fluid. He hissed as it dripped on an abrasion on his forearm - damn stone couches. He’d gotten sloppy holding on for a spot of gang-bang, which always seemed to happen in the Street Lounge around mid-day. There were discounts for sharing, and lunch-break johns were always in a hurry. It had its advantages though: aside from an occasional arse-wiggle and shouting encouragement when his mouth was otherwise unoccupied, he didn’t have to do any acting.
Julla peered under the alcove curtain. “There’s been a cancellation,” she said. She frowned. “And you’re to be with Lady Salveri in half an hour. I’ll move Emerald to suite seven. Why don’t you stop now and wash?”
“Lovely,” Spike said, and gladly put the bottle down.
“Don’t tell Wrella,” Julla said. Like he would.
He limped as fast as he could to the bathing room. He dropped his clothes as he went straight to the water. Hot and mineral-infused. It smelled and felt heavenly. He sighed as he sank into it and laid back, closing his eyes.
A soft splash heralded another body entering the tub. Spike groaned. He recognized the scent.
A large hand rested on his arm. “Is the rumor true? You are leaving us, brother?”
“Not your brother, pouf. Piss off.”
“Why must one so beautiful be so cruel? I may never see you again.”
Spike shoved the man back as he tried to climb into his lap. “I have barely any time to myself before my next job, G, and I want to spend it soaking. Alone.”
Ganymede put his hand on Spike’s thigh. “Will you really leave without ever having kissed me of your own free will?”
“Looks like.”
“You ARE cruel. I had hoped over time to win you over.” His hand crept up Spike’s thigh. Spike stopped it and moved it back to its owner’s lap. Gany sighed. “No one EVER leaves here. I can’t believe my luck. There’s never been anyone else half as intriguing to me as you have been.”
Spike decided to just lie still and hope Ganymede lost interest. He couldn’t hurt the pouf, and he wanted nothing more than a few moments of letting the warmth of the bath sink into his flesh while his mind did nothing at all.
He was getting good at that. He hardly felt the hands, the mouth on his neck. His mind was busy, though, not shutting down like he wanted. He slit one eye open. “How long’ve you been here, G?”
“Twice as long as you have, and the first decade was excruciatingly dull.”
Spike opened both eyes. “Guess they don’t need vampires to keep their whores young.”
Gany lowered his lashes. “You flatter me.”
“You said you’ve never seen anyone leave in all that time? Why is that?”
“Well, where would we go? We haven’t got a private owner claiming us like you have. The old leave. No one cares where they go. Except the almost-old.” His smile got a strained look to it and Spike almost felt sorry for the rapacious bugger.
So he didn’t move away as G nibbled his earlobe. Instead he said, “The mistress said something to me - real evil-villain-soliloquy bollocks about how I’ll come back whether I like it or not. You know anything about that?”
G stroked Spike’s chest. “Would you reward me if I did?”
Spike groaned. “You don’t know bollocks.” He pushed away and climbed out of the bath, feeling heavy and weary.
Gany followed. Of course he did. Spike suspected the harlot-masters did something to up the sex drive of their human whores. Spike batted his hands away as he dried himself. “Leave off. I’ve got a date with a regular.”
G rested his hands on Spike’s hips in a way he no doubt thought was playful. “Man or woman?”
“Woman. But that still means get off.”
“Perhaps she’ll want to watch two men together.”
“What are the odds?” Spike rolled his eyes. He picked up his discarded clothes to carry back to his room. “For a matriarchy there sure is a steady diet of cock around here.”
He shouldn’t have brought up cocks, of course, because Ganymede grabbed Spike’s wedding tackle and stopped him short, pulling him back against his own naked body. “Hardly. I haven’t had so much as a lick in ages.”
Spike closed his eyes and held still, repeating ‘can’t fight, can’t fight’ and how he hated that that was his mantra. “Customer waiting,” he said. G reluctantly let him go.
***
Buffy and Giles sat together in the early-morning light outside their hotel in the city of the ancient artificers. The façade of the brothel was just in sight in the distance.
“I can’t take another day of court hearings,” Buffy said. “Can’t we just… grab him?”
“We would need to all be together, and it would need to not be within the brothel, or presumably within sight of its magic-wielding mistress. I highly doubt they’ll lend him to us.” Giles sighed. “One more day. They will surely hear the case tomorrow. That’s what the bailiff said.”
Buffy wondered what Spike was up to at that precise moment, and then immediately wished she hadn’t wondered. “I’m going to see if I can get this sped up some,” she said. “Maybe they WILL lend him to us? If we ask the right way.”
“Buffy? I hope you aren’t suggesting what I think you are suggesting.”
“Like… eeew!” She stood and stretched. “I’m talking talk. Like… geishas made tea right? I’m not going to… way with the no. And we have to wait until court-time anyway. I’ll just… ask around. See what the protocol is.”
“All right.” Giles sighed. “I’ll meet you here before lunch?”
Continued >>