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Previous Chapter: Chapter 8
Next Chapter: Chapter 10

“… and so Stephanie over there, the one what has the fuzzy antlers and all, she’s giving Brad,” Rehva pointed from the fuzzy antlered demon to a big hairy green guy harvesting shmeva roots, “the cold shoulder because she caught him snogging Cynthia.”

“Uh, huh. Cynthia?” Senka asked, raising a brow and taking a sip of his gn’athoo. It was some kind of alcohol that tasted a little like strong beer. “Which one is Cynthia?”

Rehva took a swig of her own drink before answering. “There.” She pointed to a bull demon who was watering something. “And the one Stephanie is working next to, that’s Helga. Stephanie is all,” Rehva’s voice went higher and a little softer, “Can you believe it, Helga? He was all over Cynthia, snoggin’ away. Yeah, she’s got a great arse and tits, but she’s a brainless ninny, and her flower arranging is terrible!”

Senka laughed and shook his head. Rehva didn’t have access to her soaps in this dimension, so she made up her own stories and chattered on about them. When they were doing their arena or festival tours, she’d weave stories around the other fighters. During the off season, though, they’d do this after training. Just sit on the brick wall around the fields together and watch the farm slaves work while they drank and Rehva made up fanciful tales. It was a good way to wind down, especially since the showcase fights – their second set since being bought – would be in a little under a month.

Rehva’s voice changed again as she spoke for Helga, becoming a little huskier. It was what Senka called her phone sex voice, and it sent shivers through his body that seemed to gather at his nipples and groin. He loved that voice, especially when Rehva used it during sex.

“Well, you should throw him to the curb, girlfriend. There are better men out there. Or even women…. Kiss me, Stephanie! Make me yours!”

She went back to the first voice. “I… n-no, I can’t. I don’t feel that way about you, Helga!” She paused for another drink. “Except…. The way your mucus glands shimmer in the light. It’s so…. No! I mustn’t! But I must!”

She made kissing sounds and moaned like she was about to come right there on the wall. It wasn’t doing anything for those shivery tingles. Or, well, it was actually doing a lot for them. As in increasing them. Not that he was complaining. His girl could tingle him all day long.

“Oh, yes, uh, yes! Helg-”

“Stephanie, how could you?” Rehva interrupted herself, voice a little deeper than her normal one. Down below, the other slaves had moved around a bit, “Brad” coming in close to the making out (working together to harvest a large root) couple. Rehva switched back to Stephanie. “Brad! It-it’s not what it looks…. No, no it is what it looks like! I saw you with Cynthia, and now I’m with Helga!

“You daft twat, you can’t be with Helga. Don’t you know? She’s your identical twin cousin twice removed what was thought dead but actually got amnesia! And as for Cynthia… well, I had amnesia at the time!”

Senka was already snickering at the identical twin cousin twice removed thing, but then the amnesia…. He started laughing hard enough that he nearly fell off the wall. Once he got a hold of himself, he glanced over at Rehva and everything froze for a moment. God, she was beautiful. Bright blue eyes, happy grin, long brown curls pulled back in a tail and glinting with gold highlights in the late afternoon sun. Senka put aside his drink and pulled her close for a deep, passionate kiss.

“I love you,” he panted softly as he pulled away to breathe. It was so easy to say it. To feel it. Even though it was big and deep and should have been scary.

“Love you, too,” she said, voice husky with emotion.

And then she was kissing him, or he was kissing her again. He wasn’t sure which. He wasn’t even sure when they fell over the wall. One minute they were sitting up there and the next they were on the ground, Rehva pinned beneath him. Her hair had somehow escaped the ponytail and was spread out across the grass, a river of silky, caramel rapids. Senka wanted her, and he could tell she wanted him. He didn’t have what he needed for penetration, but that was okay. They knew how to work around that.

He straddled Rehva just right, and…. Oh. Oh, god, that felt amazing. He moaned softly as he rubbed himself against her, the little sounds she was making sending sparks through him. He leaned down and kissed her, keeping up the rhythm as they lost themselves in the pleasure.



The dice clattered across the kitchen prep table and came to a stop with one showing the color red, one with a three, and the last with a little carved image of a bird. Senka frowned down at them, nose wrinkling in thought or distaste. Possibly both. Either way, was bloody adorable. He glanced at his handful of bone rectangles – more like thin dominoes in size and shape than playing cards – and lightly bit his lower lip before putting one down. It had a red bird on it along with a seven. If he’d matched all three dice, he could have put down a second. One or none and he’d have had to pick one up from the holding box.

And now it was Spike’s turn. He glanced up at the clock – still two more minutes until the breakfast casserole he was baking needed out the oven – then grabbed up the dice. The color and animal were basic six-siders while the number had twelve. He bounced them in his palm a couple of times, then rolled. Yellow, eight, yaktopus. He had a yellow yak and a yellow eight. After a moment’s thought, he put down the yellow eight, which left him with five bones. Senka only had three. The first of them to have none would be the winner.

“So,” Senka said as he reached for the dice. “What do I get when I win?”

“When you win, is it?” Spike raised a brow at that. “Counting our chicks a bit early, aren’t we, love?”

“Yeah, right, like I’m going to… lose….” He trailed off as the dice bounced to a stop, showing purple, eleven, and slorva. “Crap!”

Spike laughed and tossed him another bone from the box before getting up to get the casserole out of the oven and cooling on the counter. A quick check showed that his dough was just about ready, so time to get the oil heating. Once that was going, he returned to the prep table and rolled the dice without bothering to sit down. He’d just be up again in a minute or two to start frying up dough balls before anyone else was up and about.

Not that it was his job to feed the lot of them, or anything. He just liked to, at times. The cooking kept his hands and mind occupied. The kitchen slaves had gotten used to it over the last few years to the point where they’d just bugger off back to bed without a word if they saw him puttering about in the wee hours of the morning. Something like that never would have been allowed in the main house, but the gladiator house was, well, full of gladiators, wasn’t it? A subset of slaves that brought their owners fame and fortune. As such, they were allowed a few quirks, especially in the privacy of their own house.

The dice he had just rolled came to a stop, and he grinned at Senka’s adorable little scowl as he was able to put down two of his bones. “What was it we were saying about terms, then?”

“You win, and I’ll take you out to the spice shop and pay for whatever you want. I win, you’ll buy me some new boots.” Senka rolled, his scowl changing to a grin at the results. “Sound fair?” He set down one of his bones, leaving them both at three.

“You’re on.”



“Mmm… that… was amazing,” Senka murmured.

“Always is with us, love,” Spike said, running his hands through Senka’s hair.

He was a warm, sweaty, beautiful weight against Spike as they lay together in their bed, basking in the afterglow from several hours of bloody fantastic shagging. Burying himself in the warmth between Senka’s legs was still off limits, but he was game for everything else either one of them could think up. An adventurous sort, Senka was.

“Very true,” Senka agreed, sliding his hand across Spike’s chest to lazily play a game of abstract connect the dots with the freckles scattered across his shoulder. “But this was for my birthday, which makes it even more amazingier.”

The first time Buffy’s birthday had come along after she’d become Senka, Spike hadn’t known if he considered it his birthday or not. Not being the sort to pussyfoot about, he’d flat out asked, which had gotten him a strange look and a, “Of course it’s still my birthday, you dope. Being in a different dimension didn’t change when I was born.”

Senka sighed softly in contentment and snuggled in closer before drifting off to sleep. As much as Spike would have liked to follow suit, he stayed awake, waiting for what he knew would happen. For the most part, it was fairly random, but it always happened on the big nights. Easter, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and birthday. Once Senka was deeply asleep – eyes closed tight and breathing deep and even – Buffy started to cry.

She’d talk a bit in her sleep, about Mum, Li’l Sis, Watcher, and all her mates. Every once in a great while she’d mumble something about his wanker of a great grandsire. Never anything about Captain Cardboard, which was fairly telling, Spike thought. Mostly, though, she just cried. This time was no different, and, as always, he held her through it, gently stroking her cropped hair as he murmured soft words of comfort and kissed away her tears.



Boredom was seriously not fun. Which was probably why it was called boredom and not fundom. Normally, watching Rehva play around in the kitchen was entertaining, especially if there was enough time between steps in whatever recipe for a game or two. But Senka was feeling a bit too restless for that at the moment, so he’d come out to the flower garden, roaming aimlessly while Rehva continued her probably pointless quest to perfect curry in this dimension. She’d pretty much given up on tea, though she’d accidentally stumbled across some kind of tangy, astringent steeped leaf drink that wasn’t all that bad. But it still wasn’t tea, a fact Rehva griped about every time she made it.

Senka shook his head, lips twitching up into a fond little smile. Maybe he’d head back soon and ask for some, along with a sandwich and some of those little mini cakes she was always baking. His mouth was watering a bit, just thinking about it. Yeah, that was definitely a plan. He’d walk around the grounds a bit more to take care of the restlessness, then go back to the gladiator house for a sandwich, cakes, and that-which-must-not-be-called-tea-on-pain-of-affronted-Englishwoman-glower.

Though that glower is pretty adorable, Senka thought with a grin. Maybe I’ll – His thoughts were cut off by a strange sort of ripple of colored light in the air in front of him, followed by a growing tear in reality. He froze, eyes wide. What the hell?

“Buffy?” The voice floated through the tear as an image started to appear. An image as achingly familiar as the voice. The Magic Box, with the Scoobies gathered there. Willow reached out her hand. “Buffy! Quick, you have to come through the portal!”

Go… through the portal? Did she mean escape? Pain flared through his head as the slug reacted to the thought, and he shook it, backing away from the portal. Part of him cried out, insisting that he should grit his teeth through the pain and dive into the portal. Mom, Dawn, her… his friends. They all needed him. But he couldn’t leave. Rehva. He had to find Rehva.

“Buffy, you have to hurry!”

Senka turned and fled just as the portal began to close.


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Table of Contents
Previous Chapter: Chapter 8
Next Chapter: Chapter 10

Reviews ( 1 )

January 8, 2021 18:44

OK, keeping up with who is who is sometimes hard. Thank you for using Spike's name again, that made it a bit easier. Another excellent installment, and they found her! Now, if only she and Spike can get back through the rabbit hole and without their brains imploding.