[Reviews - 184]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 1971 times

- Text Size +




Author's Chapter Notes:
Please review!
Buffy watched as his face blanched and his knees wobbled. If it hadn't been for her Slayer training he would have crashed to the floor, "See, I told you to wait," Buffy was all but holing Spike up as she guided him back to the bed, "Now, sit down," her voice was stern, but her touch was gentle.

Spike looked at the gleam in Buffy's eyes, and didn't know whether to grimace or grin, "There's my Slayer," he decided to grin, "The velvet fist. Tough and soft all rolled in one."

"Yeah well, right now I don't know which will get through that thick skull of yours faster."

"Right now the only thing that's in my head is getting you ready to fight Drusilla," his voice tightened in frustration, "And, how am I going to do that, if I can't even stand for twenty minutes?"

"Exactly my point. I know it feels like you've been standing still for months," she caught the anguished look in his eye, "I know you think that, if you don't jump right in," she knelt so that her eyes were level with his, and took his hand, "and fight the next big thing that comes along, that I'll think you're weak, or something..."

Spike shook his head, "Buffy, that's not..."

She pressed her finger to his lips, silencing him, "Let me finish. I don't think you're weak. In fact, these past few months have shown me just how strong you really are. You may not have been on your feet fighting, but you were fighting," Buffy swallowed hard, "The fact that you're still here proves that. Now you deserve a rest. And, so do I," she made a small concession, "At least until sundown."

Spike took hold of Buffy's wrist and slowly drew her hand away from his lips, "But Dru..."

Buffy sighed, " I suspect that Dru is a lot like her Daddy. Not in it for the quick kill," she knew that if it could, Spike's heart would have stopped cold, again, at the thought of her death. She could see the pain of the idea in his eyes, "Not that I would ever give her the chance to lay even a fingernail on me. She can wait," she smiled sadly, "It's my turn to heal."

At his questioning look, she gave him a soft kiss.
************************************

Drusilla marveled at the amount of space in the abandoned building. She had been so excited at the prospect of having her William home again, soon, that she and Miss Edith twirled like tops and raced to find every last niche that the building could offer. There were so many places that precious things could get lost in, and never be found again.

Mr. Manners had promised her that the game would be fun. And, she knew it would be. William would remember that her games were always fun.

"Oh, Holland," she squealed, "However did you find it? It's perfect. I can't wait for William and Daddy to come to my party."

"I'm so glad you approve, Drusilla," Holland said, "I spent years preparing to host your party. I just wouldn't feel right if you didn't appreciate all the work that went into making this just right for you."

"Oh, but I love it," she beamed, "When my William gets home, it'll be ever so much better," she stopped, a worried look crossed her face, "Have the invitations been sent out yet?"

Holland shook his head, patiently, "Now Drusilla," he said, "aren't you forgetting something? You're lucky I remembered and went back for it, or we couldn't have your party."

Drusilla looked puzzled, her face pinched in concentration, " What could I have forgotten? Oh, yes," she nodded to herself as Holland Manners opened his brief case, and showed her what was inside, "the trinket."

"Yes," Holland said, as he watched the prisms of light bounce in the dark space, "the Orb of Thesula. You can't have your party without that. Remember, I told you?"

"I remember."

"Good. Now, if you'll just wait a few more nights," Holland assured her, "I'll get word to all the guests where the party's to be held, and then you can play the game just however you like."
*********************************

With that one, small kiss, Spike knew what it was that Buffy wanted. She didn't have to say a word. He was tempted to forget all that his soul had taught him. He almost let the demon get the better of him. He wanted her so badly. It had been so long since he'd held her, really held her, that if he let himself be swayed by his needs and desires, he didn't know if he could stop.

The demon in him understood what passion with her could be like. It was a fire that burned like no other he'd ever experienced. The demon had been willing to risk everything just to be close to her. It risked it all, just for the smallest crumb of love. But, the soul was different. He was different, now. He'd been burned before, and now he wasn't willing to jump into the fire again, without first knowing where he stood.

"Buffy, Buffy stop," he said, breathlessly, as he gently pushed her away.

She rocked back on her heels and looked at him with wide eyes and said, breathless herself now, "What, but why?"

Spike looked up at he chipped paint on his ceiling, both in search of the words that would express how he was feeling at this moment, and to somehow escape her large doe eyes. He huffed breaths as if he'd run a marathon, "Buffy," he shook his head, suddenly dizzy from having her so close to him, "you have no idea how much I want this. God, you have no idea." He could hear the rhythms of her body speed up, and he knew he was wrong. She did know, because she wanted it too. "But, it's different now, Love. The demon in me wants you just as much as it ever did. It always wants you. It never stopped," Spike finally calmed enough to look into her eyes, "You have to believe that. But, the man, the soul," he chewed his lip, unsure he should tell her, "Love, that's new. It's never... I mean I've never..." he let his words fall into the chasm between them, suddenly ashamed.

Buffy saw the want in his eyes. She saw the need that was matched only by her own. But, she saw something else, too. There was a certain shyness in them. A kind of newness she hadn't seen before, not even back in Sunnydale in those last days. She tried to remember back to when her own reflection, in the mirror, looked like what was staring back at her now. She hadn't seen that look since before Angel had gone homicidal. Not since the world came crashing down, the weight of it on her shoulders.

Buffy hadn't seen that look since before she'd become old, before she was twenty, and jaded by life. She remembered the light in his eyes, and she understood.

The swell of emotions threatened to burst forth in a torrent of giggles and tears. She had to use every power available to her to keep the breakers from crashing, and keep Spike's dignity intact; "You mean you haven't ...ever?" she was in awe, "With a soul, I mean?"

"No. I haven't. Not with a soul."

"Is that a danger?" she asked, her heart aching for him because of her need to know, and her reason for needing to know, "Is there some way you could lose the soul? Is that why you were so careful, back in Sunnydale?"

Spike fought the need to throw his head back and roar. He could feel the blood boiling inside him. The demon wanted to roar at her. Then, it wanted to tear Angelus limb from limb for being Buffy's only template to draw from as to how a vampire with a soul was supposed to behave. So far as he knew, there were only two in the entire world, and that wanker had to be her first. That tainted how she looked at everything, and everyone, from that day until this.

"No, Buffy," he said, trying to keep the flood of anger he felt from spilling out, "there's no way I could lose my soul, at least not literally, unless I tore it out of my chest," he tried to smile, and was surprised when he saw Buffy smiling back, "No little happy thought is going to make it fly away. It's my soul. And, it's staying where it is," he touched her cheek, and felt her lean against his fingers, "The reason I'm different, both back then and now, is because of what happened," he hated to bring back bad memories, "between us. I need to know that you love me."

She nodded. Buffy knew that she would start crying if she looked at him any longer, so she looked away to hide her tears.

At the slight turn of her head, Spike's throat seized. He didn't think he could finish asking her what he wanted to know. He was truly afraid of her answer. The lump in his throat made his voice weak. He drew her gaze back to his, "Buffy," he wheezed, then swallowed, taking a tiny bit of comfort in her warm, loving eyes, "Buffy," he tried again, this time the voice came stronger, "I need to know. Do you forgive me?"

"Oh, yes," she breathed, tears spilling out her eyes. Saying those two little words to him had somehow lifted the weight of worlds off of her shoulders, "I forgive you, Spike. And, I promise we won't do anything you're not ready for. Okay?"
*********************************

The rain whipped outside his window. It was as if the universe sensed his mood, and gave it physical form so that he, and everyone else who cared to know, could see it. It was as if all the furies had chosen to unleash on Los Angeles today. The wind was so strong that it tossed the pedestrians who were foolish enough to venture out with their tiny umbrellas, like they were little toys, swept away as if by an unseen child in a fit of temper.

And maybe, when you got right down to the brass tacks of it, that's what they all were. Just toys to be used for a little season, and then forgotten about when they no longer held any interest for whatever cosmic brat was up there playing with all of them.

"Sad, really," Holland mused, as he appeared, up from the ether, next to Angel, "to think that your destiny might be in the hands of a child. Oh, I'm sorry," Holland's voice dripped with false concern, "yours really is. I'd forgotten. As a matter of fact, it's in the hands of two children, even as we speak, isn't it?" The Orb of Thesula appeared in his hands, "Your destiny," he said lazily, as he watched the colors swirl inside of it, "in Spike's hands," Holland shook his head as he tossed the crystal sphere, in small arches, into the air. Each time the delicate thing came to rest safely in his palm, "That has to be more than just a little nerve wracking, doesn't it? Gosh, I really hope he doesn't drop it," Holland pouted, "Now that would be unfortunate, wouldn't it?"

"Go away Holland," Angel growled.

"What, and miss Drusilla's party? That would be rude."

"Get out of here before I throw you out this window."

"You could try that," Holland's tone brightened, and he gave Angel a slap on the shoulder, "Wouldn't help, though. I'd just come back. But, don't worry, not all hope is lost. There's still Cordy's idea. After all, who cares about a little contract? Contracts are broken all the time. Court dockets are full to the brim with contract disputes. It's what greases the wheels of our judicial system. What's one more, in the scheme of things?" he paused, in thought, "But, then, doing that could just be what the Home Office needs to put you over the top, couldn't it? On top of that, you wouldn't be in this situation if you hadn't tried to manipulate Spike's destiny like a master puppeteer. What's a vampire with a soul to do?" he hissed in sympathy, "I know I wouldn't want to be you," he sighed, "No sir, not for a king's ransom."
***********************

For the first time in a year, he wished the floor of his flat wasn't so cold. "Sorry Love," he said, wishing he could do something to warm the place a bit for her, "We do seem to be making a habit of not needing furniture, don't we?"

"Well, it's not like this apartment is set up to entertain ladies in, now is it," she teased, "There's nothing but beer and otter's blood in your refrigerator. Not even a cookie to be seen anywhere."

"Not much for biscuits, Love."

"There was that one time. Remember, Willow's spell?"

Spike smiled. Buffy Summers, how I do love you, "One polka dot biscuit does not a diet make, Love. Still, there should be something. I didn't feature still being here, so it didn't seem to matter."

"Hey, don't worry. I'm not complaining," at Spike's quizzical expression, she added, "Okay, so I am," she shrugged, "But that face of yours doesn't need to be all scrunched up with worry lines over me. I haven't seen that face looking so happy in a long time. I missed that face. I don't want to make that face worry anymore. Not if I can help it," she said as she smoothed his brow.

"This face will always worry for you. It comes with the territory of loving you, nothing a vamp can do about that. Ask Peaches," he smirked, "he had spies keeping tabs on you. But, if you spotted them, nothing could be traced to him. So, he could stay comfortably aloof about the whole thing."

"Really," Buffy watched the light in his eyes twinkle with mirth, "and how do you know this?"

"He told me. We were on a recovery mission in Rome..."

Buffy's eyes widened in surprise, "That was you? You were there?" she seemed to be replaying the events of that night in her head. She bit her lip, "Were you...? Yes, of course you were. I knew it. I felt it," at Spike's confused look, she explained, "You were in my apartment, weren't you?"

He nodded.

"I knew it," she sighed, tracing her fingertips over his eyebrows, dipping into the hollow of his scar and back over the curve of his earlobe, "I should have trusted it. My instincts aren't that rusty! Maybe I could have helped."

"No Love, don't think like that. What's in the past should stay there. The fates conspired to keep us apart, with a little help from my ponce of a Grandsire," he kissed the tip of her nose, "But, not anymore. Nothing, and no one, is keeping me from you. I swear it."

"Ditto," Buffy giggled.

"You have such a beautiful laugh, Buffy," Spike peppered kisses down the line of her jaw. He moaned with desire as he nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck, "I missed you. You smell so good, Buffy." He pulled his face away from her; afraid he would lose control, and closed his eyes. Suddenly the room was upside down. Spike tried to find the surface, find the air his lungs didn't need, but wanted if only to clear his mind and nostrils of the scent of her, "Your scent," his words were slurred. He was intoxicated by her, and he hadn't taken a drop, "It's making my head spin. You smell like vanilla and roses, Love. Did you know that?"

Buffy caught his lulling head between her hands, "Spike, open your eyes and look at me." When she was sure his vision was clear enough to see her, she asked, "You're hungry, aren't you?" Spike started to deny what his body was clearly telling her was undeniable, "And, don't even think about lying, not that you could, at this point. I know you are. You're practically passed out from hunger. Take some of mine," she smiled at him, "I've got rivers of the good stuff, right here. I couldn't possibly use it all. Take what you need," she tilted her chin to expose the vein.

Spike's eyes were suddenly clear, his voice crisp and precise, "No Love. You don't know what you're asking. If I lost control and took too much," he blinked away the thought, "I couldn't take it if I hurt you again."

Buffy smiled up into his worried face and pouted, "You see, there's that worry again. I can't be the cause of that. You're not taking anything, Spike. I'm giving. There's a difference."

"I want to. The man in me understands what it is you're trying to do. Love. But, Angelus really is a buzz kill here. The demon thinks you're his. His mark is like a big 'No Trespassing,' sign. It's got nothing to do with you," he sighed in defeat, "it's that blasted claim he's got on you."

"There is no claim, Spike."

He was gobsmacked, "Did I hear you right, Slayer?"

"If what you heard was that Angel has no claim on me, whatsoever. Then, yeah, you heard right enough."

"How?"

Buffy's eyes looked at the ceiling, trying to pull the necessary information out of her brain. Once she had it, she looked at Spike again, and with a smile in her voice, said, "Giles tried to tell me once how this claiming thing works. Let's see if I remember. In order for there to be a claim, a vampire has to drink from you, but, then you have to take some of the vampire's blood, too. Is that how it's supposed to work?"

"That's how it works."

Buffy grinned, "Well, then we're okay. Because, even though Angel did drink from me, on a couple of occasions, I never drank from him," she winked at Spike, "I have tasted you however, and may I say, you're really yummy."

Spike threw his head back and laughed, "I love you, Buffy," he sobered quickly, "You're sure?"

She nodded, and tilted her head to the side, "Yes, Spike. I trust you."

He placed a small kiss to her jugular and murmured, "I love you," before letting his fangs descend down into her tender flesh.

And suddenly, in one, bright brilliant flash he knew. He knew how her face looked as she was digging through the sand and debris, trying in vain to reach him. He knew exactly how many tears she'd cried, weeping for someone who was not dead. He knew how many different ways she'd saved him every night, when she closed her eyes to sleep. He knew just how many of her heartbeats he had missed. And he knew that he wasn't going to miss any more, not one, single, solitary beat would go unnoticed. He knew that not one thing about her would escape him. He would know it all. He knew everything. He knew he loved her.

And, by some miracle he had yet to comprehend, he knew she loved him.

He slowly withdrew his fangs, kissed her lips softly, and was lulled to sleep by her slow and steady heartbeat.





You must login (register) to review.