Chapter 7
Tabula Rasa Ad Aeternum
By Kallysten and Kantayra

Chapter 7


The drive back from the Magic Box had been quiet and pleasant. A bit too much information swirled in the backs of their minds, but the hours upon hours of research concerning Slayers, vampires, and every memory spell imaginable were only secondary now to the company they kept.

Rupert watched his fiancée enter the apartment before him and felt oddly shy. The work, the fuss of research, and the day-to-day business at the store had been sublime. Anya had a rich, if peculiar, sense of humor, he'd discovered, and their casual conversations had been just as stimulating as their more...intimate moments. That, and her sharp wit kept him nicely on his toes and made him feel young again.

Poor Randy's already taken to the banter. By the time he's my age, his mid-life crisis is bound to be ten times mine. But, then, Randy wasn't get any older now, was he? It was amazing how easy it was to forget that his own son was a vampire. He acted so very human and...insolent.

"If you're thinking about more research," Anya turned about to face him, after setting her massive pile of books on the coffee table, "I'm leaving you." She stretched her arms over her head and arched her back in a way that gave him quite a delightful view on her chest.

Subtly shifting his pants, he smiled. "We can't have that," he teased lightly.

Anya looked at him in surprise. "We're not doing more research?" she asked in somewhat suspicious disbelief. "Because I was willing to offer up kinky sexual favors in exchange..."

"We already have uncovered more than enough memory spells to test tomorrow," he clarified.

Her shoulders slumped slightly that rabid monkey lust for her hadn't been his motivation. God, she needed an orgasm or ten soon, or she was going to die from sexual frustration...

"Although I'm willing to pretend otherwise if it will earn me a few of those favors," he added with a rakish grin.

Anya's expression instantly turned downright devilish, and she slunk towards him with wicked purpose in her swaying hips. "I could always wear tweed," she suggested. Such a pity she'd apparently already moved her clothes out of Rupert's apartment. She was confident she had many sexually pleasing outfits.

He gulped. She really was extraordinarily beautiful, and when she twisted one curl of blonde hair around her finger like that, he had almost the uncontrollable urge to jump her like a wild animal. "Actually, I'd prefer you wore nothing at all." He flushed when he said it, before quickly removing his glasses and going for the polishing cloth.

Anya sulked that her pouncing opportunity had been interrupted. "I was going to nibble on your ear," she complained when he quickly moved away, putting the couch between them, "and then I was going to check the size of your pe-"

"Perhaps we should-" Rupert interjected, then froze in shock at what she'd been about to say. Sometimes her brazenness overwhelmed even him. There was something delightful about a woman so confident in her sexuality. "Ahem," he coughed, fighting back a little smile. "I was about to say that perhaps it would be advisable not to have our 'reunion' while we still remain ignorant of why we were breaking up. And furthermore-"

"Rupert?" Anya cut him off with a sigh. "We're adults, we're engaged, and I'm feeling incredibly horny. And, given that all my clothes are gone, I think it's safe to say I don't have my vibrator here, either."

"Yes, quite." He actually found himself a bit embarrassed by her candor.

He had found it somewhat surprising at first that he'd been engaged to a woman far younger. But Anya had surprised him with her odd mature quirks, almost as though she'd been around for a lot longer than she looked. He admired that, hoped that other people had seen that trait in him throughout his life. And he was exceptionally proud to see that he'd passed that sense of world-knowledge on to his son, as well.

Anya sighed. "You're thinking too much again. And, while long bouts of thought do often coincide with high orgasmic potential, I'm feeling horny." She stepped in close to him and slipped her arms around his neck.

"We are engaged..." he commented thoughtfully.

"Try throwing caution to wind," Anya advised. "Really, what's the worst that can hap-mmm..." She trailed off when his lips suddenly met hers, wrapped her arms around his neck, and staggered back to the couch.

Fingers found cloth, pushed it aside, bodies tangled, and...

Oh yes, Rupert felt much younger indeed as they washed away the sexual tension between them with pleasure. He wondered how long it had been since he'd just let himself go like this, just felt, and - dear god, that woman could do sinful things with her tongue.

After all, Anya was right. What was the worst that could happen?

***

"So, er, yeah." Willow sat awkwardly on the edge of the couch, twisting the bright pink corner of her glittery butterfly shirt. It wasn't just her surroundings that felt out of place. Her skin - or, at least, her clothes - screamed 'not Willow!' Well, unless she'd had a complete personality switch along with the memory wipe...

"Yeah." Xander managed a bit of a laugh and sat down next to her. "I guess it's late..."

"Yes, very late," Willow agreed enthusiastically. And then she blushed when she realized sleeping arrangements were bound to come up again.

"Yeah..." Xander shifted uncomfortably. What was wrong with him, anyway? This was his girlfriend. They'd had a bit of fun talking and joking during the research, but as soon as they ended up alone together and back in their relationship, this awkwardness had returned. "You can have the bed," he hurriedly offered. "Just let me get some stuff, and..."

Willow bit her lower lip. She felt terrible about this. Xander was a really nice guy, and she should be happy to have a boyfriend like him. Plus, it felt more than a little wrong to kick him out of his own bed... "It's OK," she assured him, managing a brave smile. "You don't have to sleep on the couch tonight."

He gave her an unsure smile. "I really don't mind. I don't want you to be uncomfortable or..."

She took a deep breath and covered his hand with hers. "It is our bed," she pointed out.

"Right." He got up a bit nervously, looked around the room as she got up as well. Eyes alighted on the answering machine, and he breathed a sigh of relief at the blinking red light. Another convenient distraction.

Apparently, Willow was looking for one, too, because she clicked the button.

"This is Sunnydale Catering calling about the arrangements of the Harris/Jenkins wedding," a perky female voice announced.

Willow frowned. 'Jenkins?' she mouthed, confused.

Xander just shrugged, frowning at hearing his own name mentioned in wedding plans.

"We just wanted to let you know that we're having problems ordering some of the...ethnic foods. Anya, if you could give me a call about some of those distributors you know? Thank you." Click.

Willow blinked slowly, absorbing what she'd just heard. "Anya..." she repeated slowly.

"Anya Jenkins?" Xander suggested, equally confused.

Willow's eyes widened in sudden realization. "Oh my god! Anya's not marrying Rupert. She's marrying you!"

"She's...what?" he exclaimed in sudden disbelief. "No, there were rings and...the whole sleeping together thing!" he insisted triumphantly.

"...Which is why all these clothes are totally not me, and we act all awkward around each other, and I'm gay. Because we're not dating!" she concluded in triumph.

"We're not dating?" Xander repeated hopefully.

Willow shook her head with a little smile.

"Oh, whew." A long breath of relief escaped Xander's lips. "I guess that just means..." He frowned. "Uh-oh."

"Uh-oh?"

"Rupert and Anya went home together. Th-They think they're engaged," he pointed out in alarm.

"Phone!" Willow suggested.

Xander ran over to the phone, fumbled for the number and couldn't find where he'd left it. "Not good. Don't suppose you remember it?" he asked wryly, shuffling through the papers on the shelves.

Willow just sighed. "Very funny."

He grinned. And then belatedly caught up to her previous words. "Wait... Did you say you're gay?"

***

"Dawn? It's getting late. Maybe... Maybe you should go to bed."

Tara hadn't finished speaking, but already she could see the fight in the teen's eyes and posture. The girl had been watching television ever since they had come back from the Magic Box; even if she wouldn't go to school the next day, she still needed to get some rest.

"I'm waiting for Buffy to come back," Dawn stated as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"She told you not to wait for her," Tara reminded her. "Her patrol could take a lot of time."

The teen snorted.

"Especially since Spike is with her. They'll probably bicker half the night, and flirt for the rest."

Hiding a chuckle behind a cough, Tara smiled. "Noticed that too, huh?"

Dawn grinned widely in response. "It would have been hard not to notice. They're a couple; that's as evident as Anya and Giles."

There had been the faintest trace of jealousy in Dawn' voice when she said the word 'couple', but Tara chose not to comment on it. Teenage crushes were fickle things, and she was sure she would have had a few crush stories of her own to share - if she had only remembered.

"Speaking of couples..."

The teen switched the television off and turned sideways on the sofa, facing Tara and leaning in as if to conspire.

"Did you notice how Willow and Xander were acting?"

Notice? Nope. Tara hadn't done any noticing. None at all. She hadn't noticed how Willow's hair seemed to be living fire when the light fell on her just so. Hadn't noticed the way her whole visage lit when she smiled, or the little lines at the corner of her eyes when she laughed. Hadn't noticed curves and elegant fingers, hadn't wondered at all what these fingers would feel like caressing her skin. Nope. Nothing of the sort.

"I don't... I don't know what you're talking about."

"They were all...shifty and stuff. Like, they weren't looking directly at each other, or they didn't talk to each other much. I didn't even see them touch or kiss or anything."

"Dawnie, some people don't like public displays of affection. And with everything that's going on..."

"I think Willow and you are having an affair," Dawn blurted out suddenly. "Or were, before we all lost our memories."

For long seconds, Tara only stared at the girl, completely speechless. She was fairly certain that she hadn't shown anything more than friendliness toward Willow.

"I... I most certainly am not," she said at last, as forcefully as she could. "I would never do anything to damage anyone's relationship."

And that, she hoped, was the complete and honest truth; but as Dawn pointed out, truth was relative when you barely knew who you were.

"How do you know that? You can't be sure of anything. None of us can."

"So neither can you," she countered, still flustered.

But apparently, Dawn was sure. She listed one after the other the many clues she believed proved that there had been something between Willow and Tara, starting with the pictures of them around the house, the few letters addressed to Willow with the rest of the mail, all the way to the glances Willow was supposedly giving Tara when no one else was looking. By the time the teenager was done, Tara was almost convinced. Almost ready to dare hope.

Could it really be...?

Refusing to show Dawn how troubled she was by all this, she put an end to the discussion and reiterated that it was time for both of them to get some sleep. But when she slid into her too large, too cold bed, the kid's words, and her own daydreams, returned to haunt her.

***

Anya murmured in complaint when the loud ringing woke her up. She moaned and buried herself deeper against Rupert's bare chest, hoping to snuggle in against the noise. Somehow in their sexcapades they'd finally made it to the bed, and she had no intention of leaving it for the rest of the night.

The phone wouldn't stop ringing, however.

"What sort of git calls at three AM?" Rupert complained, fumbling for his glasses before snatching up the receiver. "Yes?" he demanded testily, angry at having his night disturbed. A short pause. "Xander, apparently," he answered his question aloud for Anya's benefit.

Anya sighed and played absentmindedly with the soft hairs on the back of his arm.

Another moment's silence. "What?" Pause. "How can you be-? I see." He pushed at Anya's hand nervously. "No, that seems quite logical. Yes. Thank you for telling us." Expression numb, he hung up.

"What is it?" Anya asked, mildly concerned.

"I have some..." he couldn't help but let out one little shocked chortle, "...unexpected news..."

***

Slowly, oh so slowly, Buffy drifted out of sleep, awakened by a low but persistent rumbling. Her eyes fluttered open, and it took her a few seconds to adjust to the low light and remember where she was exactly, and with whom. Sighing contentedly, she pulled back just a little from her snuggling place against Spike's chest, just enough to see his face. Her movements did not wake him, but the hand at her waist tightened reflexively, preventing her to move farther back, and for an instant the rumbling noise stopped, before starting again. Her eyes widened as she realized what the sound was - Spike was purring! - and she slid her hand from his side to his chest, slipping it past the couple of unfastened buttons to touch his skin. The purring only intensified, the vibrations against her fingers sending shivers down to her toes. Smiling to herself at this unexpected but so cute oddity, she brought her attention back to his face, and was startled to discover blue eyes looking straight back at her.

"Slept well, princess?" he murmured as he moved closer to her, pressing his forehead against hers.

"Too well," she grimaced. "I should have gone home long ago. Dawn is going to be worried."

The fingers against his chest started rubbing small, soothing circles when the rumbling stopped, and within seconds it started again.

"But...'t was nice, right?"

Spike wanted to kick himself for the poncy purring he couldn't seem to be able to stop, and even more so for the pathetic worry in his voice. But kicking anything, let alone himself, would have required moving, and he wouldn't have given up his place in the warm embrace of the Slayer for anything.

"It was nice," she confirmed shyly, and brought her lips back to his.

The kiss was tender and slow, like the very first one they had shared a few hours earlier, and Spike felt his body return to a full state of arousal at this simple contact. He had to remind himself forcefully that none of the highly erotic pictures flashing in his mind was going to take place, at least not that night. She had asked that they take it slow, learn to know each other again before doing anything beyond kissing, and the promise had been too clear in her words for him to ruin it all by pushing too much.

She broke the kiss with a small sigh and, to his chagrin, sat up.

"I really should go," she said with an apologetic smile. "I wasn't planning on sleeping here..."

"I know kitten, 's OK."

He reached for her hand, brought it to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. God, but she was beautiful. Hair mussed up, eyes still full of sleep, a streak on her cheek from a seam line of his shirt... beautiful. To tell the truth, he hadn't planned on letting her fall asleep either, too content of the small talk and playful teasing they had shared in between increasingly hot kisses. But when her eyelashes had slowly closed, he had been unwilling - unable - to wake her up, and had simply gathered her closer in his arms and gone to sleep with her.

"Want me to walk you home?" he suggested even though he hated that she had to leave, and her face brightened so much that he had to kiss her again.

Getting out of bed proved more difficult than Buffy would have thought, but they eventually managed to, and after straightening their clothes and putting their shoes back on, she led the way to the upper level. The strange looking demon had left, and Buffy couldn't help but wonder, a little ashamed, what he must have thought they were doing down there for all this time.

"Now, that's more like it!"

Puzzled, she turned toward Spike in time to see him pick up a coat from the armchair next to the sofa. He slipped it on, liquid grace as the leather engulfed him. Had she really called him geeky?

"I see you approve," he smirked, and prowled back to where she stood. She raised her hand in front of her, stopping him with a brush of her fingers to his chest.

"I really, really need to go home," she pleaded.

His features softened a little, the smirk turning into a gentler smile; she gulped when he took her hand, interlocking his fingers with hers. How could such a simple thing make her resolve melt like snow in the desert?

"Let's go, then, Slayer."

All the way to her home, he didn't let go of her hand, and it felt to her as if all her nerve endings were suddenly concentrated in this small patch of skin his thumb was rubbing lightly. They didn't hurry - it didn't seem that the sun would rise soon - but it still was all too quickly that they reached their goal. Reluctant to part with her newfound...friend? Boyfriend? Love? Lover? Buffy pulled him to the relative privacy offered by a couple of trees, and rediscovered all over again the magic of kissing him.

When they finally said goodnight after Spike reluctantly announced that he could feel the imminence of the sunrise, Buffy went straight to bed, her lips still tingling from his touch, her body longing for his to curl up against.