Title: Counting Up

Author: Tiana

Feedback: Makes me squeal like a schoolgirl ! Gimme. Please?

Disclaimer: I don’t own the rights to Spike, Buffy or any other BTVS characters. Damn it.

Distribution: Just ask at tianabelle

Summary: This fic, a series of standalones, starts in Season 2 and continues forward from there. Buffy’s birthday was always an interesting day. My take on how Spike marked the occasion each year.

Rating: Varies from PG to NC-17. (NC-17 chapters will be marked as such.)

Author's Note: Nearly every part in the series springs off an episode. For this reason, you will find lines from particular episodes inside the fic. I'm assuming everyone who reads this can tell which lines those are. As I often do when writing, I like to fill in blanks in the show, and occasionally tweak scenes to fulfill my wishes. :)

The first chapter is for Season 2 and takes place during Ep. 13, Surprise. It is Spike/Dru, but the series as a whole is Spike/Buffy.

Chapter 1: Seventeen

“Stupid bloody Slayer. Put me in this blasted wheelchair. How the hell am I supposed to rip her throat out from here!?” Spike slaps his hand down on the armrest of the wheelchair as Drusilla drifts into the room.

“There, there, my sweet. You are healing quickly. Soon, you will be up and dancing and killing and we will splash in the blood like puddles after the rain.” She trails around Spike, dragging ivory fingers across his shoulders and his neck. Spike relaxes a bit under her touch and even manages to smile softly at his dark love.

“You look lovely, Dru. I could eat you right up.” The smile turns into a devilish grin accompanied by a dart of his tongue to wet his lips. Dru spins around, her dark maroon skirt moving with her.

“Later, my Spike.” She snaps her teeth at him playfully, then runs her hands down the blood red combination, tracing her lean curves. “I got this when I picked up my party dress. Tasty shopgirl helped me before she screamed so nicely. So very sweet.” Dru licks her lips, savoring the memory. “Let’s go and look at the party decorations, dearie. I want to see the flowers.” She claps her hands once with glee and takes Spike’s wheelchair by the handles to start pushing him. Spike sighs, his shoulders slumping. He hears the voice of the simpering Dalton, sees him coming towards them, carrying another box. Another piece of the Judge for his Dru. He could never deny her anything.

They enter the main space, where party preparations continue. “Are you dead set on this, pet? Wouldn’t you rather have your party in Vienna?”

“But the invitations are sent.”

“Yeah. It’s just I’ve had it with this place. Nothing ever comes off like it’s supposed to.

“My gatherings are always perfect. Remember Spain?” Dru kneels next to him, drawing Spike into her eyes. “Hey... The bulls?”

Spike clenches his jaw in frustration. “I remember, sweet. But Sunnydale’s cursed

for us. Angel and the Slayer see to that.”

A few hours later...

Her eyes flash with disgust and anger. “You lost it? You... lost my present.” Spike looks on, not surprised that the bookish vampire blew his mission. He figures somehow the bloody Slayer is involved.

Dalton quivers under Drusilla’s fury. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Voice bored, Spike joins the conversation. “It’s a bad turn, man. She can’t have her fun

without the box.”

Dalton begins to panic. “The Slayer. She came out of nowhere. I didn’t even see her. She...”

Spike sighs inwardly. As he thought. The Slayer. If he wasn’t stuck in this chair, he could have gotten the box for his lady and kicked the Slayer's perky ass. Two birds, one stone. A small smile plays on his mouth at the thought, for her ass is quite perky. His mind plays back the scene from Halloween night. Had her bent back over that box, about to taste her, tight body quivering under his. It was a wet dream, and then she went and got her strength back. As he has done a thousand times since, he imagines it going differently. Her impossibly warm skin on his, rich blood in his mouth. Maybe he wouldn’t have killed her right away. A little play...

His attention is distracted suddenly, as he sees Dru is about to kill their only minion with a multi-syllabic vocabulary.

“You might give him a chance to find your lost treasure. He is a wanker, but he’s the only one we’ve got with half a brain. If he fails, you can eat his eyes out of the sockets for all I care.”

Dalton begs for his unlife, “I’ll get it. Please. I swear.”

Drusilla freezes, considering. Finally, she decides, returning Dalton’s broken glasses to his head and sending him on his way. She slinks over to Spike, and he pulls her onto his lap. His thoughts swirl between tanned skin and the pale white of his lover, blonde hair and darkest curls. Even when she is not here, the Slayer invades his thoughts. He growls, kissing Dru with a new fury.

Later that same night...

“I know you got it, mate. Wouldn’t have come back without it, right?”

Dalton, disheveled and weary, nods. Behind him, another vampire carries in the box with the Judge's arm. Spike addresses that vampire. “Take it to the main room, add it to the others.” He turns his attention back to the quivering Dalton. “Not going to kill you now, if that’s what you’re all twitchy about. You got the box. And you’ve got the head coming in the next hour, right?” Spike’s gaze is intense, making Dalton quail.

“Ye..yes. It’s on a truck. Here in half an hour, I swear.”

“Good. Any trouble, then? Must’ve had to fight the Slayer off for the box, right?” Spike tries to hide any interest in hearing about the thorn in his side. It’s good Dalton got the box, but he sure as hell doesn’t want the Slayer killed unless he can at least watch.

Dalton breathes out a sigh of relief. “She and Angel. Both were there. We followed them back to the place we lost the box the first time.” He accelerates, not wanting to dwell on that failure. “And found them in the club there. Looked like a party. For her.”

“For...who? The Slayer?” Spike feigns boredom.

“Yes. Her birthday. Cake and presents and so forth. So, we follow - “Dalton hesitates as Spike begins to chuckle.

“Her birthday? Oh, this is choice. Guess we kind of ruined it for her, wouldn’t you say? Spoiled the party?” He grins at Dalton.

“I...I would say so. Nothing was touched. They were all just looking at the box.” Dalton swallows, his mouth dry under the watchful eye of Spike. Even in a wheelchair, he is deadly and Dalton knows it. “So, the Slayer and Angel and one of the women, they went to the docks. It looked like Angel was taking the box with him.”

“Oh, the bloody poof fancies himself the noble hero, does he? And leaving his lady love on her birthday? How soddin’ tragic.” Spike can barely contain his glee.

“Right. Um. We jumped them and fought...and Victor threw the Slayer into the water. And uh, Angel went after her, so we took off.”

“In the water, eh? Can she swim?” Spike can’t stop himself from asking. Drowning is in no way good enough for killing this one. It would be a waste.

Dalton blinks, not expecting the question. “I..I don’t know. We left.”

“Yes. Well, good job. Saved your scrawny neck for now. Now, get out there, make sure the parts are going together right. Can’t have anything going wrong tonight. Or it’s your head, got it?”

“Yes, sir.” Dalton hesitates.

“Go, then.” Dalton scurries from the room, leaving Spike with his thoughts. Dark thoughts of nubile young Slayers he should never have. He hopes she can swim.

That night at the party...

Spike looks at Drusilla. She is glowing, nearly quivering with glee as her fully assembled gift steps over and incinerates Dalton. He wasn’t quite sure this whole thing was going to come off, but there he was. Big blue demon thing. After threatening him and Dru, he was ready to declare it a very bad idea, but it seems things are back on track. Whatever track Dru’s mind is on, that is.

The party continues, the Judge taking a few more party favors to Dru’s delight. And then, things got really interesting. Rolling along next to the blue creature, Spike hesitates when he does.

Spike stops, looks back at him. “What? What is it?” And then, his eyes follow the Judge’s. He grins, a smile most delicious. Looks like Blondie can doggy paddle.

Moments later, Buffy and Angel are dragged in front of Dru, Spike and the Judge.

“Just because your little birthday party got ruined didn’t mean you had to crash ours, love. I feel just terrible for not getting you something for your birthday - flowers, chocolates, an early death.” Spike smirks at Buffy as she struggles in vain. “Oh wait, I’ve got that last thing right here.” He gestures at the Judge and wheels back out of the way. “You too, Peaches. Though your death is way overdue.”

“Shut up, Spike!”

“Ooh, pet. You slay me with your wit.” He turns to the Judge. “Kill her.”

Angel, the big hero, thrusts himself forward, “Take me!”

Buffy cries out, arms straining to break free. “No!”

“Take me instead of her!”

Spike raises his hand, grinning. “Uh, you’re not clear on the concept, pal. There is no instead. Just first and second.”

“And if you go first, you don’t get to watch the Slayer die.” Drusilla smiles, her special brand of logic almost chilling. Spike smiles, the smell of the Slayer’s fear...and maybe her shampoo...intoxicating. And her defiance. Anger. It’s ripe and tantalizing. Dru drapes herself over him as he lets himself think he will finally be rid of both the Slayer and the poof in one fiery night.

And that, of course, is when everything went to hell. And not in the good way Spike intended.