Chapter Seven
Spike’s sleep was filled with dreams and images that seemed strange and familiar at the same time. He dreamed about Europe and Angelus, Darla and Dru. Visions of convents in which Angelus raped and tortured nuns for hours before allowing his family to finally kill and eat them had him moaning in his sleep, his soul cringing at the pictures in his head.
Other, more pleasant visions brought him scenes of patrolling with Buffy, their easy banter indicating a gentle camaraderie that seemed to vanish when the visions became erotic dreams of hours of rough, brutal sex in a dark crypt. There was even a flash of a night spent happily holding her while she slept in an eerie reflection of the way they’d spent the night just past.
When Spike finally got up, he found that Anne had gone out to run an errand, so he busied himself working on rearranging the basement again. When his senses told him it was approaching twilight, he quit moving old furniture around and came back up stairs to find his girlfriend waiting for him with a sweet smile and a cup of warm blood.
“Thank you, love,” he said, dropping a quick, chaste kiss on her upturned face. He dismissed the suspicious thoughts that tried to tell him she would not have gotten over her anger so quickly, and gladly accepted her peace offering.
“You’re welcome, honey,” she said with a gentle smile. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a bitch about the Slayer. I know she can tell you a lot about your past and I know how much you hate not knowing anything about…before. I’ve been very selfish, trying to keep you from talking to her. I want you to get all the information you can from her before she leaves.”
(Leaves? Buffy is leaving? What the hell?)
Giving her a bemused nod, he carried his mug upstairs and cleaned it out in the sink before stepping into the shower to clean off the dust and dirt from the basement. Unlike many vampires, Spike tried to stay as clean and fresh smelling as was possible for someone who was essentially an animated corpse.
Twenty minutes and a clean pair of jeans and tee shirt later, he was back downstairs and ready to help Anne with the evening meal and clean up.
He found himself cocking an ear toward the door, halfway expecting Buffy to come looking for him to patrol with her now that it was dark, but she didn’t appear. By the time they had found beds for everyone who needed one and closed up for the night, he was beginning to worry. Wondering if she had gone out by herself again, expecting him to meet her at the cemetery.
Memories of her injury last night, and not being sure how much she would have healed yet, fueled his worry and he finally ran upstairs to grab his coat.
“Tell Buffy I said ‘bye and safe trip’ if I don’t see her again,” Anne said cheerfully, cringing inside at the worried frown on his face but keeping her outer demeanor caring and trusting.
“She didn’t say anything about leaving yet,” he muttered, pulling on his duster and staring at the door.
“Well, you know, maybe she got an earlier flight and just didn’t want to bother you about it. I’m sure she’ll call once she gets back to let you know how to reach her. In case your memory comes back, or something.”
“She wouldn’t leave without telling me,” he growled.
He was sure the woman he’d held while she cried over him, the one he’d continued to hold while she slept trustingly in his arms, would not have given up so easily. Buffy Summers did not seem like the kind to sneak off with her tail between her legs just because she was hurt.
Then he remembered how she’d bared her emotions to him the previous night. How she had backed off from her clearly successful seduction to offer him the chance to make a choice. And he remembered what his choice had been. Suddenly getting to her hotel and making sure she was still there took precedence over anything else and without so much as a “good night” to Anne, he was out the door and sprinting the blocks to Buffy’s hotel.
He stretched out his senses and gasped with relief when he felt her presence as he approached her door. He knocked quickly and was already turning the handle when her quiet, “Come in, Spike,” came to his ears.
His joy at knowing she hadn’t left LA quickly turned back to concern when he saw the packed bags on the bed and watched Buffy continue to stuff make-up in an outside pocket.
“What are you doing?” His voice came out much angrier than he intended, and he watched her flinch before she turned around to face him.
“What I should have done as soon as I saw you with Anne. As soon as I saw your mark on her.”
Her eyes were red-rimmed from the crying that had obviously occupied her for hours, although they were now dry and lifeless as she met his gaze.
“I’m sorry, Spike. You should have told me. I would have backed off.” She turned back to her packing, missing his totally bewildered expression and gaping mouth.
“God knows I’ve hurt you enough through the years. I would never willingly do something like that to you again. You really should have told me.”
Finally finding his voice, the vampire croaked, “Told you what? Are you sure it was Drusilla who was my batty ex-girlfriend? Cause right now, Slayer, you’ve got to be runnin’ her a close second.”
“Stop pretending!” Suddenly the animation was back in her eyes and on her face. She radiated pain and anger as she rounded on him. “I know all about it. Anne told me.”
“Anne told you what?” he asked in a deceptively calm voice, already guessing what he was going to hear.
“That you’re mated. That you claimed her while you were…making love,” her voice hitched, then evened out as her anger enabled her to smother the despair that permeated her soul. “She told me about it and then I read about what it means.”
She picked up the small book and threw it at him, hitting him in the forehead. “I don’t know why you never bit me- all the times we…I mean it’s not like you didn’t have a lot of opportunities. I guess you just didn’t want me enough to—“
“Bloody, buggering fuck!” Spike’s scream as he threw the book against the wall so hard it dented the drywall, stopped her in mid sentence.
“Are they giving this soddin’ book away on every street corner in this fucking city? Where the hell did you get this?”
“Anne gave it to me,” Buffy said dully, “I guess it’s one book Giles didn’t have in his collection, or I would have known as soon as I saw your mark on her…”
“Your watcher didn’t have it because it’s pure unadulterated crap! It’s written by the same ignorant gits that had her and her friends thinking I was planning to sire the whole lot of them rather than just eat them.”
“Wh—what? It’s wrong?” Hope bloomed in her face, although her worried frown stayed. “You didn’t claim her? You’re not bonded in some weird vampire marriage?”
“No, Buffy,” he said, his voice quiet and suddenly gentle as he moved closer to her. “I never claimed her. Wouldn’t do that. I don’t love her. Right now, I don’t think I even like her very much,” he added with a growl.
That got a small smile from Buffy, and he watched the hope blossom in her eyes again before she said tremulously, “But you did bite her. I saw your marks.”
“I didn’t mark her, love. Those are just scars from the bite that haven’t faded yet. I bit her because I was so weak and she needed me to throw out some gang banger wankers that were giving her a hard time, trying to take over the shelter and use it as a front for drug running. She offered out of fear, and I took it because I was afraid for her. I told her to cut her wrist for me, but she’s afraid of sharp things and she said she’d rather I did it the ‘right’ way.”
“Stupid vampire groupie,” Buffy muttered.
“Yeah,” he sighed. “I should’ve picked up on that, I guess, but with not knowing her history…”
“So, you’re not…”
“No.”
“And you didn’t…”
“Jesus Christ, Buffy! If half of what you told me about us is true, don’t you think I would have marked you as mine if I could?” He glared at her in frustration, then shook his head and admitted, “’Course if I had, we probably wouldn’t be standing here, ‘cause you undoubtedly would have staked me on the spot.”
She nodded in sheepish agreement; then went back to her main focus.
“Why did she tell me you bit her while you were mak-having sex?”
“I don’t know. Why did she tell you any of this? I told her the other night that book was trash.”
Buffy kept staring at him, her eyes demanding the truth and he finally turned away from those accusing orbs to mutter, “I made it good for her.”
“What? What did you say?”
He turned back to her and, somewhat shamefaced, explained, “We – vampires – have different kinds of bites. It’s possible to make a bite…pleasurable, if we take the time and effort. Not something I suspect most vamps bother with, but if you want to take the victim’s mind off the pain—“
Buffy held her hand up for him to stop. “I get the picture. It’s like when Dracula bit me, I didn’t—“
The snarl that ripped from Spikes throat startled them both, with the slayer recovering faster. While Spike looked embarrassed and said apologetically, “I don’t know where that came from.” Buffy answered softly, “I do.” She didn’t try to hide the happiness in her eyes at his visceral reaction to the old vampire having bitten her in that way.
The vampire sighed and began pacing the floor, his duster flaring out behind him. “Buffy, I admit that my body and even my demon- they seem to remember you. Us. And I…” He paused and looked back at her over his shoulder, “I’d like to explore that. To see where it goes. Whether I get my memories back or not, I think I could easily fall in love with you all over again.”
The joy on her face brought an answering smile to his that he couldn’t control.
(Making Buffy happy appears to be one of those things that parts of me respond to.)
Before she could say anything, he held up a hand and said quickly, “But the part of me that remembers nothing before last May, the man who doesn’t remember you, he doesn’t want to hurt the woman who has made his life peaceful and happy for the past six months.
“I know she’s done a terrible thing. And I’m bloody brassed off about it. But she’s done it because she loves me. Something I suspect I haven’t seen a lot of in my one hundred and however many years on this planet.”
He saw Buffy flinch at the reminder of how little affection she’d given him during the years they’d been together and he sighed again. She nodded again to let him know she understood him, but had to turn away and squeeze her eyes shut trying to shake the memories his words created.
“That wasn’t meant to hurt you, love. I’m just trying to explain why I’m having such a hard time with this whole…situation. Not used to having women fight over me, yeah?”
“No,” she sighed and walked closer to him, “I suppose not. And I really don’t want to. Fight, that is. I can’t fight her physically – she’s human; and I’m not sure I know how to fight any other way. I know I never gave you what she has…I never made you happy, and we never had time for peacefulness. It was always one apocalypse after another.”
She reached up and ran her hand down his face, cupping his cheek and forcing him to see the truth in her eyes.
“I can’t promise you a peaceful life. It just doesn’t come with the whole Slayer package. But I can promise you I would do my best to make you happy. Whatever it takes for as long as I’m given to do it.”
She held his gaze, leaving her warm hand resting against the side of his face and willing him to see the truth in her eyes. They remained frozen, only inches apart until, with a shudder, Spike closed the distance between them and pulled her in against his body.
“Was getting a little bored with all that peacefulness anyway,” he murmured as he captured her lips in a gentle kiss. Buffy slid her arms around his neck and melted against him, soaking up the sheer joy of feeling that cool, soft, talented mouth on hers. The kiss remained chaste and warm for several seconds, then Spike’s tongue gently stroked her lower lip and she immediately responded by opening her mouth and sending her tongue out to meet it.
She stood still as the vampire explored her open mouth, running his tongue over her gums and teeth, re-acquainting himself with what felt so familiar and yet so strange to him. Exploration soon turned to passion as the kiss deepened and Buffy was soon moaning in frustrated desire as the familiar body pressing against hers stirred the usual craving for more contact. She could feel his own hard response pressing into her stomach and she thrilled at the proof that his body still recognized her touch. She put everything she was feeling into the kiss, her lips and tongue continuing to caress his until she almost lost consciousness. If Spike hadn’t broken the kiss when he sensed her dizziness, she would have passed out on the spot.
“Bloody hell, Buffy,” he raised his head to gasp. “What you do to me… Want you so bad…”
“I’m right here,” she whispered, wanting nothing more than to throw him onto the nearby bed, but forcing herself to wait for him to make the next move. Her whole body was trembling with the need to feel his skin next to hers, to feel his hard length inside her again. It took every ounce of her strength to force herself to stand still and let him take the next step.
(If there’s going to be a next step. Oh god, please let there be a next step! Let me have this – at least once. Let me feel him again.)
When he lowered his head to attack her mouth again, she collapsed against him in relief, allowing his arms to take the weight her knees would no longer support. As soon as he felt her melt into him, Spike growled softly and swung her body into his arms. Without breaking the kiss, he strode to the bed and used his foot to kick the luggage off to one side. He followed Buffy down onto the bed, shoving the bags the rest of the way off with one hand while he buried the other in her long hair.
Freed of her fear that he was going to withdraw again, Buffy allowed herself to do all the things she’d been resisting since she first saw him. Her hands ran over his body frantically, as though trying to touch and remember every bulge of muscle, every sharp edge of bone at the same time. Spike’s hiss when she ran her fingers up under his tee shirt to skate over the cool skin on his back encouraged her further and she ripped her mouth away to plant open-mouthed kisses all over his face and down his neck.
The heat coming off the woman under him was making Spike so hard he thought he was going to injure himself on the zipper of his jeans. The combination of soft, feminine curves and incredible strength was exciting him in a way Anne’s slender gentleness never could. He pushed her shirt up, running his hand over the silky skin covering her ribs until he was stroking his thumbs across the curve of her breasts. When she mewed and arched up into his hand, he pushed the shirt completely over her head and used his teeth to rip the scrap of lace covering her breasts into two easily removed pieces.
He buried his face between her breasts briefly, inhaling her scent and accepting the familiarity of it without question. Buffy was tugging on his own tee shirt, trying to pull it over his head as she gasped, “Less smelling, more stripping.”
With a willing grin, he sat up and pulled his shirt off, then reached down to untie his boots. He was shocked when Buffy slid off the bed and said softly, “Let me.” She sat on the floor and quickly untied and removed his boots and socks. When they were gone, she knelt between his legs and fastened her mouth back on his while her hands worked to unfasten his jeans and begin pushing them down until his aching cock could spring free into her warm hands.
Never breaking contact with his mouth, she swallowed the groans coming from the vampire as she began the firm stroking she knew he liked best. His own hands were busy unzipping her pants and trying to shove them over her hips without breaking any of the contact between them. Finally, with unspoken agreement, they broke apart and each stood to push pants to the floor and off.
Spike took a second to look at the vision before him, taking in the small but perfect breasts, the tiny waist and womanly curve of her hips before dropping his eyes to the neatly trimmed curls that already glistened with moisture. He dropped to his knees and pressed his face against the apex of her legs, once again inhaling the scent that went right to his cock and made it even harder.
Buffy’s whimper when she felt his cool tongue searching through her folds only spurred him on and he grabbed the muscular globes of her ass to hold her up while he gently forced her legs apart so the he could reach the source of the nectar he was lapping up. Again, they found themselves in an awkward, uncomfortable position that neither was willing to change for fear of losing the contact. When Buffy grabbed the curls on his head to hold herself upright, Spike finally removed his mouth and pushed himself up and back onto the bed, pulling the slayer with him.
The feel of her hot, soft skin against his own cool smoothness sent them both into a frantic attempt to be touching from head to toe. The vampire’s arms were puling her into his body with a grip that would have made most women cry out in pain. The Slayer’s response, however, was to fasten her mouth onto the soft skin of his throat and begin sucking there while she clenched his cock between her powerful thighs and pushed her hips into his.
Unable to wait any longer, Buffy tore her mouth away from the mark she’d made on his neck and pushed her upper body away so as to hover over him.
“I want you inside me, Spike. I need to feel you in me now.”
Never taking her eyes off his lust filled blue ones, she slowly lowered herself onto him, smiling as the heat of her passage caused his eyes to roll back in his head. Her own eyes closed as she lost herself in once again being filled by the man she loved. She settled down onto his hips, pushing his cock in as far as it could go. Tears poured down her face as she allowed herself to feel him and know that this time it was real and not one of the thousands of dreams that had haunted her for the past year and a half.
Spike couldn’t deny the way his body rejoiced when it felt her surround him. It was at once the most amazing sensation he’d ever felt, and at the same time, incredibly familiar. Then Buffy began a rhythmic squeezing that soon had him gasping unnecessarily and thrusting up into her depths with every squeeze.
“Bloody hell, Slayer. I can’t keep this up. You’ve got to stop doing that, love or I’m going to—“ He interrupted himself to flip them over, continuing his thrusts from above as he murmured in her ear.
“I’m sorry, pet. Know you wanted to drive, but I want to make this special for you and I wasn’t going to last with you bouncing on me like that. Want to make this good for you, Buffy.”
As he whispered to her his desire to make her feel good, he was twisting his hips and hitting the little spongy mass of nerves that only he could find, sending her into a head thrashing, moaning and crying frenzy as she shook through an orgasm that came too soon. She was still shuddering from the effects of her first climax when he began thrusting harder, his muscular buttocks clenching as he drove into her. The slayer met him thrust for thrust, her pelvis clashing against his hard enough to bruise both of them.
Buffy’s arms and legs were wrapped around his body in a grip that he knew he couldn’t have broken if he wanted to. She was murmuring his name over and over as he pounded against her, her voice rising as she felt the tension in her body building again. The vampire’s guttural growls grew louder and closer together as he felt his own release approaching.
When Buffy sank her teeth into his shoulder with a muffled scream, his demon burst forward and suddenly the woman quivering under him was no longer a beautiful stranger.
“Buffy! Oh god, Buffy. Not a dream. Real. Buffy. My Buffy. My love. Mine.”
The man struggled to hold the demon back, but there was no stopping it. Needle sharp fangs slid into the soft skin on her throat and he shook all over with the force of his orgasm and the euphoria created by her blood flowing into his mouth.
The instant his fangs pierced her skin and he drew the first sip of blood, Buffy spiraled into another body shaking orgasm; waves of pleasure sweeping over her and without prompting she screamed, “Yours! Oh god, Spike. I’m yours.”
The vampire collapsed on top of her, both of them gasping for air and shuddering with the after affects of the experience. When he realized Buffy was having to breathe while his full weight lay on her chest, he reluctantly rolled off, whimpering at the loss of her warmth around him. He turned his head far enough to lick the wounds closed, then let it flop back onto the pillow.
He continued to take unnecessary breaths, staring at the ceiling while his demon receded and the memory of who Buffy was and what she meant to him faded somewhat. He grimaced as he realized what his demon had done, even as he accepted that in this case his body and the spirit that inhabited it knew better than he did the importance of this woman in his life.
“Not exactly complaining here,” she gasped, “but what the hell was that?”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Because I am avoiding doing anything productive...here is another chapter. I hope you enjoy it.