Summary Buffy makes a wish and finds Ripper and Ethan on the other side
Rating NC17 Het, Slash, multiple
Disclaimer No quality fanfiction was harmed in the writing of this story.
Any injured copyrights were unintentional
Notes Thanks to Scarlettgirl for planting the original seed to this in a parking garage in downtown Philly,
to Mydeira for starting it and then letting me take over (large chunks of the first three chapters are hers, so share the love),
and to Wickedfox for the absolutely amazing graphic she made to go with it!
Chapter 2
Buffy wasn’t sure if it was realizing that Ethan Rayne was putting the moves on her or the voice that spoke the words that stunned her more. She shoved Ethan away and turned to see a Giles she had only glimpsed in a picture. He was dressed in jeans and a simple white T-shirt that clung just tight enough to hint at the muscles that defined his broad chest. There were no lines to soften his features, his face young but very hard at the same time. The shaggy but controlled hair that framed his face only made this more apparent. It was the face of a man who followed no one’s authority but his own and dared anyone to tell him otherwise. There was no kindness or compassion there. And without glasses to hide them, his pale green eyes glittered naked and cold as they watched her.
Her taunt to him earlier came back to haunt her. She had seen too much not to be able to read the predator in his every line. This man was completely capable of doing everything Giles had claimed. And more.
Her reverie was broken when Ethan spoke, frowning at the other man. “Thank you ever so much, Ripper. She was doing fine until you decided to butt in.”
“She’s not cowering on the floor of the closet, that says something for her,” young Giles observed, his gaze traveling over her in a way that should have disturbed her. Giles checking her out should have equaled a whole world of ew. Instead, Buffy felt her body tremble.
To push the thought away before it could go any further, she asked, “How long until this stuff wears off?”
The only way to describe the smile he gave her was hungry. “It’ll be a while. And it’s hardly begun to take effect.”
And this is why you say no to drugs, she thought. Staying in the bathroom wasn’t looking so bad now. Dealing with this situation sober was one thing, but she wasn’t sober. Things were starting to take on a sharp quality that just wasn’t right.
“You’ve gone and terrified the poor girl. Great job, Ripper!” Ethan said, reaching for her.
Buffy backed away on reflex, but was stopped by the wall.
“She’s dealt with far worse than this. Haven’t you, Annie?” Giles said knowingly. Okay, what was it about his voice, gravelly, low that made her want to do whatever he asked? “But if a little LSD is all it takes to scare you, it’s a good thing you ran away from slaying after all. It’s a wonder you’ve lasted as long as you have.”
Great, even in Crazyworld, she was still a Slayer.
“I’m going to sit down,” she said slowly, carefully edging her way to the armchair she had spotted out of the corner of her eye and sitting in it, “and you are going to tell me what I can expect in the next few hours or whatever until this wears off.” She was tempted to tell them to stop calling her Annie, but going by a derivative her middle name was the least of her concerns at the moment.
“You want to know what it does?” Giles asked. Before she could reply, he grabbed her arm and pulled her up out of the chair, the momentum carrying her forward into his chest. He held her there, forcing her to feel every hard line of his body pressed against her own. “It opens your eyes and frees your mind, heightening every sense. A godsend for casting.” Then his voice dropped to just above a whisper, “And it makes sex indescribable.”
Images flashed through her mind rapid-fire—braced against the wall as he pounded into her from behind . . . bound to the bed, begging for the release he denied her . . . on her knees, supplicant as she sucked him off, his hands tangled in her hair, urging her on . . .
Reality came crashing back as he shoved her away. She would have fallen to the floor if Ethan hadn’t been there to catch her. But she didn’t give Ethan a second thought as she tried to process the wild, crazy sex images her mind had conjured up. Images of sex with Giles. Giles! And they had been hot. Oh, god. Sex with Giles. Sex with Giles!
Buffy looked up at the man in question, trying to make sense of things, but all she got in return was a sneer and a dismissive shake of his head. His manner was so cold; it didn’t mesh with the Giles she knew. But it wasn’t the Giles she knew. She had to remember that.
“Keep your girl out of my way, Ethan. She’s bringing me down,” Giles ordered, his eyes never leaving her as he spoke. He turned away from them, toward Deidre and her companion. “Randall and Thomas are already in back. Join them.”
They obeyed immediately, rising from the couch and brushing past Buffy and Ethan into the hallway beyond. Deidre paused long enough to throw Buffy a smug look before they disappeared through a door at the far end.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he said scathingly, bowing shortly before he followed the others. The door slammed behind him.
“I told you not to piss him off, Annie,” Ethan sighed, setting her on her feet. “He’s got a temper you can’t even begin to imagine.”
He left her standing there as he went and threw himself down on the couch. It seemed that Giles wasn’t the only one pissed at her. Not that she cared, because, hey, Ethan. But since he seemed to be the only one who was remotely friendly to her in this place, it probably wasn’t the best idea to alienate him. Technically this Ethan hadn’t done all the things she hated him for. Yet.
“So . . .” she said uncertainly, trying to ignore the pictures floating through her head. “What do we do, wait until Giles gives us the all clear or what?”
“Giles,” Ethan laughed. “Dear girl, you do not want Ripper to hear you call him that. Got a bit of a complex with regards to his family name. And you really don’t want to see Ripper that brassed off.” He chuckled again. “To answer your question, yes, we wait for the ‘all clear’, as you put it.” His face fell as he sighed, “Knew I should have waited to bring you here. Looked like you could handle it, though.”
That got under her skin. “I can handle it. It’s just . . . not what I expected.”
He sat up and patted the cushion next to him. “Come take a load off.” When she didn’t move, he said, “I’m not gonna bite.” His grin gave lie to the words.
She could always beat him back if he tried anything. And while the armchair would be perfectly fine, Buffy didn’t want to be that alone at the moment. But she bypassed the couch and sat on the floor just out of his reach. Probably not smart to get too comfortable right now. Better to sit on the hard floor and risk her butt falling asleep rather than risk anything else.
“Should’ve guessed you were talking a bigger game than you could play. Runaway slayer or no. You’re too fresh, too clean,” he said, then shrugged as if to dismiss it. He shifted on the couch, turning to face her more. His left leg was drawn up on the couch while the right still hung over the edge, and his left arm draped casually over the back of the couch as he regarded her. After a moment he spoke again, “But you seemed like you were worth the chance.”
“Sorry it turned out otherwise” she offered automatically. She felt kind of bad for him. Not that she could lend much credence to her feelings or judgment at the moment, especially when the wallpaper seemed to be moving, something that was both freaky and fascinating at the same time.
“Figured you and Ripper would hit it off better, both of you sticking it to the Council,” he continued, his words pretty much just background noise as the wallpaper took up more of her attention. “Looks like I’m oh for two tonight. Generally, I have better luck.”
“Uh huh,” she said noncommittally, still staring at the wall across the room. Then she had to ask, “Does the wallpaper normally move like that?”
She felt his hand alight gently on her shoulder as he gave a quiet laugh. “And how long has it been doing that?”
“Um, a couple of minutes?” Buffy guessed. His hand was really very warm, and the weight felt kind of nice. Comforting almost. She hoped he wasn’t going to move it anytime soon, maybe it would keep her from floating away. She furrowed her brow. Now that was just a silly thought. Why would—oh yeah. “So it’s starting to kick in, isn’t it?”
“Just,” Ethan laughed again, his hand moving in a small, caressing gesture which sent pleasant waves radiating out from where he touched her. Then he stopped, his hand pulling away.
Buffy looked back at him. “Don’t stop,” she protested before she could bite back the words.
The right corner of his mouth tugged up in amusement. “And here you didn’t even want to sit near me.”
“Well, I changed my mind,” she replied, grabbing his hand and putting it back on her shoulder.
“You think that’s good?” he said, squeezing lightly. “Care to let me try something else?”
Buffy thought about that a moment. She was still the Slayer, right? “Alright,” she agreed warily.
“Turn around then.” He pointed at the wall that had been fascinating her a few moments ago.
She faced the wall again, readjusting her back so it was comfortable against the couch. Yup, still moving, but slower, almost fluid like it was now underwater.
His other hand came to rest on her free shoulder, then they began to move, his thumbs digging into the tight muscle between her shoulder and neck.
“Oh,” she sighed. This was nice.
When he began to move up her neck, Buffy’s head automatically fell forward. Jeez, how long had it been since she’d had one of these? Riley had liked to give them to her after a night of patrol when they were in a less physical mood. Riley. Not since Riley left her? No way. That was . . . that was too long to go with knots in her neck.
“Oh god, right there,” she groaned as he worked the base of her skull. “Jesus, that’s good.”
“You don’t relax much, do you?” he commented, his thumbs kneading the juncture between neck and skull while the rest of his fingers radiated out over her scalp, running over the area in small, soothing circles.
She laughed, but it was somewhat bitter. “That’s all I’ve been doing the last year.”
“Well, you’ve certainly been doing it wrong from what I can tell,” Ethan said lightly, his hands now working back down the way they had ascended.
“Mm hm,” she mumbled. God, the man had wonderful hands. Suddenly this whole wish thing didn’t seem like the worst thing ever.
“You’re not falling asleep on me, are you, Annie?” he rumbled against her ear, eliciting a pleasant little tingle that washed over her again.
Wonderful hands and wonderful voice. Oh yeah, this definitely wasn’t a bad place to be. Her eyes drifted closed.
“Annie,” he sing-songed, pulling her hair back over her shoulder, kissing delicately down her neck. “You’re gonna miss all the fun if you fall asleep now.”
Buffy wasn’t falling asleep, but she was very warm, very comfortable and she didn’t feel like doing anything to disrupt that feeling, including speaking.
While he kissed her neck, one of his hands slipped under the neck of her shirt, coasting along her bare shoulder and down her arm. The skin to skin contact was exhilarating. She gasped when he gently grazed over her breast.
“Like that?” he asked, doing it again, lingering this time.
She shouldn’t, god, she shouldn’t like it. But she did. What she should be doing was pushing him away. Right now. Her only response was to let her head roll back to rest against his leg, opening her eyes to look at him.
“Yeah,” she managed to sigh.
And then he was kissing her, languid and patient, slowly getting her to open up to him. She raised her left hand up to snake behind his neck, drawing him closer, trying to deepen the kiss, but he would have none of it. This was going to move at his pace. Which was all well and fine, but Buffy needed more.
Ethan broke this kiss. “This would go much better if you’d join me up here.”
“Why don’t you just come down?”
“Soft couch or unforgiving hardwood. Is there really a choice there?” He smiled.
Ooh, good point. But that required movement on her part. And Buffy really wasn’t in the mood to move anywhere at the moment.
“I’ll make it worth your while,” he wheedled, his brown eyes watching her, warm and inviting.
She blamed the drugs for being in this position in the first place, let alone considering taking it further. She felt warm and relaxed, and nothing in the world seemed threatening or uncomfortable.
“Annie.” One of his eyebrows went up as if he were trying to figure out what her hesitation was.
“Why do you call me that?” she asked, stalling, trying to summon the motivation to move. She really was comfy on the floor.
“It suits you better than Anne does. Not that Anne is even your real name,” he said knowingly. “Everyone likes to hide. Some of us use names and some of us find other ways.”
Damn, that was profound. It was really profound. Who knew Ethan was so smart?
“Are you sure you can’t come down here?” she asked hopefully.
“No, my girl. You’d regret it in the morning,” he said, brushing her hair out of her face.
I’m sure I’ll be regretting a lot of things in the morning, she thought wryly. Aloud she said, “Help me up?”
Ethan pulled her to her feet, then sat back down, waiting expectantly.
Buffy stood there for a moment, the world around her going topsy-turvy before righting itself again. Yup, major movement really not a good idea right now.
“C’mere,” he said, tugging gently on her hand.
She complied, joining him on the couch, letting him settle her astride his lap. Buffy didn’t close her eyes as she dipped her head down, cautiously tasting Ethan’s lips with her own. But he wouldn’t let her be cautious for long. One of his hands moved to cup the back of her head, drawing her down, holding her there as he deepened the kiss. It was similar to their first kiss, but different at the same time. Ethan still didn’t rush it, but was more insistent than before. He was no longer trying to win her over. This kiss was to savor, to build her up, make her want more, want him. When his hips arched up, his cock hitting her just right through two layers of leather and denim, she groaned.
Her body responded of its own accord, hips grinding down, seeking the friction that had briefly been offered. She clawed at his shirt, wanting bare skin, needing it. Frustrated, she pulled back, breaking the kiss as she tore his shirt open. Definitely not scrawny. Thin but defined. All lean muscle and nothing to spare, almost like Spike had been. The shock of the comparison almost sobered her. It still hurt think back on that time, not for the bad, she had dealt with that, but for the good moments. The sex had been phenomenal and had frankly spoiled her. But what made her sad was knowing that things in general could have been better between them, maybe and—What was the point? And what in the hell was she doing thinking about that at a time like this?
But she couldn’t not think about the similarities between Ethan and Spike. It wasn’t purely physical. There was a likeness in personality and manner. Maybe that’s why she wasn’t stopping this. It felt familiar. And that familiarity felt kind of nice. Comforting almost.
Ethan’s hands slipped under her loose shirt, distracting her as they skated over her skin, moving up, and lifting the fabric.
“Arms up,” he directed, waiting for her to do as instructed.
Buffy obeyed automatically. There was no point in stopping now. The air sent goosebumps rippling over her naked skin.
“Exquisite,” he breathed as his right hand came up to palm one of her breasts. She arched into the touch, closing her eyes and letting her head drop back as his thumb massaged her nipple in tiny circles. This was wrong on so many levels, but she no longer cared.
“More,” she whispered.
She felt his tongue, hot and wet, caress over her free breast, teasing the nipple before latching on with blunt teeth. Mouth and hand worked in unison, overwhelming her with sensation, pleasure just touched with pain. Pain. She always craved that edge of pain, it made her feel alive. Even before she came back from heaven she craved it. And then Ethan was moving lower, kissing a trail between her breasts, down her stomach, moving them so he could press her back onto the couch as he descended.
The waistband on her jeans loosened as he popped the button and then drew down the zipper. Gripping the fabric, he began to work the material past her hips as he continued to place delicate kisses on the skin he exposed.
Buffy was beginning to find it very difficult to breathe. She was not letting Ethan go down on her. She was not enjoying Ethan Rayne going down on her. She was not—hell, she really didn’t care at the moment. Fingers teasing under the thin white cotton of her underwear made her gasp. Yup, definitely not caring much about the who at the moment.
Just when she finally decided to give herself over to this whole experience and stop letting the pesky thoughts get in the way of her good time, Buffy got the strange feeling that they were being watched. Turning her head to the side, she saw Giles standing in the archway, casually observing them, his face unreadable.