[Reviews - 170]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 5516 times

- Text Size +




Chapter Seventeen

As Buffy descended the stairs, Spike stared at the woman he was escorting to the party that evening and marveled. The maid that Cook had managed to find on short notice was a former personal maid to a member of the peerage and she knew exactly how to get the most out of the few dressy items that Buffy had purchased.

Her golden hair was piled on top of her head, with just a few curly tendrils framing her face and drawing attention to her graceful neck. The dress was a soft moss green that went beautifully with the gold of her hair and her brilliant green eyes. Although Buffy still felt naked without her usual make-up, the maid had assured her that anything more than a touch of color on her cheeks would be “cheap” and she had to settle for biting her lips to make them pink and being grateful for her naturally dark eyelashes.

The only thing missing was any trace of jewelry. Since Buffy had been technically “working” when they’d been sucked back to this time, she had none of her own with her, and she was reluctant to dip into the few pieces belonging to Spike’s mother without his permission. As soon as the maid mentioned jewels, definitely implying that he was falling down on his responsibilities to see that his wife was properly attired, Spike pressed some coins into her hand, thanked her for her efforts, and pushed her out the door.

While Buffy stared at him in confusion, he went into his study and opened the locking drawer where he kept his blood. He stared into the drawer for a minute, then pulled out a velvet box and held it out to Buffy.

“Here,” he said gruffly, “see if you can find something you like.”

Buffy frowned at him, taking the box and turning it around before releasing the clasp. When it popped open, she gasped and almost dropped it. Sparkling on the silken lining were small, delicate diamond earrings, a silver chain with a small diamond-encrusted locket, and a set of rings, one clearly an engagement ring and the other a simple band with small diamonds across the top.

“Wha-? Where? Who? Oh my god, they’re beautiful, Spike. Where did you get them?”

“They were my mother’s,” he said quietly. “I think she would be happy to have you wear them. Even if it is only temporary,” he concluded, looking away from her awed face.

Buffy put the earrings on, then held the locket out to Spike and asked softly, “Would you put this on for me, please, William?”

With trembling hands, he fastened the necklace around her neck, leaning down to kiss her bare shoulder when he was done.

“They look lovely on you, pet. Mother would be pleased.”

Buffy stood there, awkwardly holding the box that still contained the two rings, not sure what she should do with them. The vampire noticed her confusion and took the rings out, reaching for her hand.

“Everyone is going to expect you to have a wedding ring, love. You don’t mind, do you?” he asked as he slipped the rings on her finger. The fit was perfect and their eyes met briefly as he held on to her hand long enough to plant a light kiss on her knuckles.

“There you are, Mrs. Sinclair. All properly decked out to show everybody why you married me.”

Buffy reached up and stroked his sharp cheekbones, then ran her finger over his soft lower lip. Even with his toned down hair and unneeded glasses, he cut a fine figure in his tailor-made suit that showed off his muscular legs and broad shoulders.

“I think it should be pretty obvious why I married you,” she said softly, blushing slightly.

He cupped her hand in his, turning his head to plant a kiss in her palm, smiling when her heart rate went up.

“If we don’t leave now, pet, you’re not going to make it out the door in that dress,” he growled.

Placing a light shawl on her shoulders, he put his hand in her back and guided her to the carriage waiting outside.

After an hour of smiling politely as she was introduced to men and women who were as insincere as they were boring, Buffy was ready to leave the party and go slay something. She could tell the women were eyeing her dress for any trace of cheapness, and she caught the looks at her rings when they thought she wasn’t looking.

One dark-haired matron with a gigantic chest shoved up to almost spill out of her dress, insisted on following Buffy around and asking her pointed questions about where she met William, what she knew about him, how much money he had, and, finally, asking if he ever mentioned her.

“Cecily? Cecily? No, I don’t believe he has,” Buffy responded cheerfully. “Should he have?”

“Oh,” she said with some disappointment. “Well I guess it’s understandable. I did break his heart, after all. I presume it is still painful for him.”

She beamed at Buffy, clearly expecting her to cringe at the thought that her husband might have loved someone else. She frowned when Buffy laughed merrily and said, “If I had a penny for every woman who thought my William was in love with her. But if it makes you happy to remember it that way...” She waved her hand airily and moved off to link her arms with Spike’s and smile up at him adoringly.

“What are you up to, pet?” he whispered. “That bitch wasn’t giving you a hard time, was she?”

Buffy tossed her head. “Puleeeese! “ she sniffed. “I went to high school with Cordelia Chase. I can’t be bothered trading barbs with amateurs.”

His rich laugh and the possessive arm he wrapped around Buffy spoke more loudly than anything they could have said to convince most of those watching that William had made a love match. The only ones not convinced, were the few men left alive of those that had been particularly unkind to the younger, meeker William.

While it wasn’t lost on any of the women present that William had matured while he was away and become a self-confident, attractive man, his former tormentors refused to see him as anything but the gentle poet they were accustomed to pushing around. As the evening went on and more alcohol was imbibed, old habits took over and they were soon badgering William for a poetry reading.

“You did know your husband was known as William, the Bloody Awful Poet, didn’t you, Mrs. Sinclair?” one of them asked. Buffy’s shocked look told them she didn’t, although they had no idea the real reason she looked so flabbergasted.

One look at Spike’s face told her the old insult – which it clearly was – still hurt and she found herself stepping in front of him to look up at the laughing man.

“I cannot imagine how someone with William’s gift for writing lovely sonnets could have earned a title like that. Surely you have confused my husband with someone else – perhaps someone like yourself with no appreciation for beautiful things?” She looked pointedly at the man’s jewel covered, but extremely plain wife.

“Feisty, isn’t she?” snarked a recovered Spike as he put an arm around her waist. “In addition to being drop-dead gorgeous, of course.”

While the other man’s face darkened in anger, Spike steered Buffy toward their host and hostess, telling them that they had thoroughly enjoyed themselves, but, being newlyweds, they were more than ready to go home for the evening.

Mr. Saint-John looked wistfully at Buffy as he nodded his understanding and wished them a safe ride home. He had no idea why the vampire he knew as a member of the Scourge of Europe was spending his time with a human woman, but he had to admit the man had excellent taste. During the course of the evening, Spike had mentioned to the solicitor that he might be leaving soon and explained what he wanted done with the house and his retainers.

The man wisely didn’t remind him that he’d given the house to the girl at his side, just nodded and promised to continue handling Spike’s affairs as he had been before. He assumed the vampire was tiring of playing at being married to the woman and was planning to kill her or turn her and go back to his life as a vampire. He hadn’t worked for Wolfram and Hart all these years not to know when to look the other way and keep his questions to himself.

Spike left Buffy standing on the large front porch while he went to fetch their carriage, not doubting that the Slayer could take care of herself if necessary. She cast her senses around for vampires or demons, never noticing the drunk men behind her until one of them wrapped an arm around her shoulders and breathing his whiskey-soaked breath in her face said, “Fess up now, Missy. Where did William pick you up? How much is he paying you to pretend you’re married to him? I’ll match it for a couple of hours of your time,” he added, leering at her cleavage.

Buffy threw off his arm with an ease that the would-be accoster was too drunk to notice and shoved him back toward his friends.

“If I were you, I’d get lost before William gets back,” she gritted out through clenched teeth. As much as she wanted to punch the man’s face in, she knew that was completely beyond the pall for Victorian ladies and she really didn’t want to embarrass Spike in front of these bullies.

The angry man, charged toward her, his weight carrying them both into the railing and sending Buffy’s good intentions right out the window. Bringing her knee up, she sent him gasping to the floor. She was just reaching for him, preparing to throw him over the railing and into the street when a voice she hadn’t heard in years said, “No, Slayer. This one’s mine.”

There was no sign of the gentle man she had learned lay beneath the vampire’s hard exterior. Facing the gasping bully was the Spike she hadn’t seen since he attacked her high school. With one hand he picked the whimpering man up and shook him. His vampire hearing had picked up every word of the conversation, including Buffy’s attempt to handle it without giving away how different she was from the other women at the party.

“You dare to touch my wife?” he said in a voice all the more frightening for its even, cold tone. The man he was holding forgot completely about his aching balls as he stared death in the face. Sudden realization hit him as he remembered the strange and violent deaths that had decimated their social set shortly after William’s disappearance several years ago. Even as he contemplated his own demise, he understood why the frightening deaths had happened to the most egregious bullies in their set.

While his friends wondered if they dared challenge the monster holding their companion, and if his life was worth the risk, the small blonde woman stepped forward and put a slim hand on his arm.

“Spike, please?” was all she said, but the monster’s features faded back to his human visage and he sighed regretfully, lowering the crying man to the floor.

“He insulted you,” he grumbled, letting go and watching dispassionately as the man fell to the floor and curled into a frightened ball. The acrid smell of urine was in the air and Spike sniffed appreciatively.

“I can take care of myself, remember?” she said gently.

“Yes, pet.” He sighed again, rolling his eyes. “I remember. Just had a Victorian moment there. I’m sorry,” he added, sticking his lower lip out. “Forgive me?”

In front of the forgotten drunk’s staring cronies, she stood on her tiptoes and grabbed his lower lip with her teeth and shook it gently.

“Are you going to make it worth my while, husband?” she purred.

“Count on it, you little minx,” he answered, lifting her up and kissing her thoroughly.

“Okay, let’s go then,” she chirped, turning to wave at the still immobilized party-goers. “Bye, guys!”

They managed to get all the way into the carriage before collapsing in each other’s arms laughing uncontrollably.

“Bloody hell, Slayer, I hope your watcher gets us home soon. We won’t be able to show our faces around here anywhere for months!”

Spike had already given the driver instructions to swing by the street upon which their adventure had begun, and Buffy peered out the window looking for any sign of the green glow that had brought them there. She was just slumping back in disappointment when a fluttering caught her eye and she yelled for the driver to stop. Before the carriage had come to a complete halt, she was out the door and snatching at the large piece of paper drifting on the slight breeze.

Her face lit up when she saw the message and she whirled to show it to Spike, her smile fading when she saw his face.

“So, twenty-four hours,” he said noncommittally.

“I thought you wanted to go back,” she asked, confused at his lack of enthusiasm.

“I do, pet. Just caught me by surprise, that’s all.” He made an effort to look happy and gave her an encouraging hug. “Wasn’t really expecting them to figure it out so fast.”

“Oh, well,” she said, turning away to look at the message again, “They probably called Riley to come back and help them figure it out. Hey, do you think we can find something to write with? Just in case we can send it back?”

Spike’s stomach clenched at her casual mention of her boy friend having participated in the retrieval. He’d hoped to have a week or two to sort out where they stood with each other before having to deal with another man in the picture.

Fortunately, he was spared having to say anything by a tiny green glow that began in the middle of the street and grew. Buffy grabbed some mud from the gutter and quickly wrote, “We’ll be here” before throwing the paper into the rapidly expanding portal. They stood, side-by-side, watching the paper disappear into thin air and then the glow was gone and they were alone except for the impatient cab driver.

Spike was uncharacteristically quiet on the way home, silently paying the driver and following Buffy toward the house. His ears picked up the sobbing minutes before she did and he was already running toward the house right in front of the Slayer.


They reached the porch to find a sobbing Molly waiting for them. Buffy flew up the steps and put her arms around the hysterical girl, asking, “Molly? What’s wrong? Did something happen to your aunt? Did someone hurt you?”

Before Spike could stop her, she opened the door and said, “Come on in, Molly. Tell us what happened to you. We’ve been so worried. Get in here where I can see you,” she finished, pushing open the door and helping the sobbing girl through it.

When they got inside, she could see that Molly was covered in blood and she gasped as she began to examine the girl for wounds.

“What happened? Who hurt you? Tell us, we’ll...”

Molly turned to look at Buffy and with a sly smile she said, “He said to tell you he was going to go, but he was leaving you a going-away present.”

“Who was going away? And what present?”

“Me,” said Molly as she shifted into her demon face and lunged for the stricken Slayer. She turned to dust before Buffy’s eyes; dust through which Buffy could barely see Spike and the stake he’d used. Tears of rage and grief filled her eyes as she began cursing Angelus.

“That son of a bitch!” she ground out. “He couldn’t come after me – he had to pick on a defenseless girl!”

“That’s his way of coming after you, love. You should know that from before. He’s a sick fuck and he gets his kicks from making women cry – not from an honest fight or a clean kill. I’m sorry, love,” he added, wanting to comfort her, but wary of touching an angry Slayer. “I liked the girl too.”

“She died because of me. Because I taunted him instead of doing my job,” she said dully.

“She died because Angelus is a miserable bastard. Has nothing to do with you, Buffy. It could have and probably would have happened whether you were here or not. Maybe he wouldn’t have bothered to turn her, but if he was hungry she’d be just as dead.”

Without answering, Buffy turned away and headed for the stairs, her head down and tears still running down her cheeks. She quietly changed out of her now-blood stained dress and into the nightgown Molly had been so insistent that she wear even though they both knew it wasn’t going to stay on very long. She gently stroked the nightgown, vowing to make Angelus pay somehow.

She was still wearing the diamond jewelry as she turned to go into Spike’s room, turning silently so that he could undo the locket.

“You’ll have to remember to lock them back up tomorrow,” she said as he removed the locket and set it on the table. She reached up to undo the earrings, but he stopped her with a gentle hand.

“Leave them on for awhile, pet. They look beautiful on you.”

She nodded, then looked at her hand and the two rings resting there.

“Those too,” he said, gently turning her around to face him. “We’ve got one more night of being Mr. And Mrs. Sinclair. Might as well keep the perks while you’ve got them.”

Buffy smiled slightly, closing her hand around the rings.

“One more day,” she agreed. “Then it’s back to homework and dirty laundry and crowded dorm rooms for Buffy. Bye-bye rich, pampered wife of William Sinclair and back to the boring life of a college girl.”

“Who just happens to be the Slayer,” he reminded her gently.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Who just happens to be the Slayer,” she agreed. “A Slayer who needs to tell her watcher about all those dreams before I forget important details. Giles is very big on the details in Slayer dreams.”

“Come on, love. Let’s get some sleep. Who knows what time that paper was sent through tonight. We’ll have to camp out near the portal all night tomorrow so we don’t miss it.”

Buffy allowed him to steer her to the bed and settle her under the covers. She was almost asleep when she realized he wasn’t there with her. Her eyes flew open and she sat up, her heart thudding.

“Spike? Aren’t you coming to bed?”

“I’ll be there shortly, sweetheart,” he replied absently. “I want to check the downstairs again, just in case.”

“They can’t get in,” Buffy said. “If they could, Molly would have been able to get in before we got home. The only vampire that can get in here without an invitation is you.” She frowned at him, suddenly remembering his pushing her in the door weeks before. “Why didn’t I need to invite you in?”

“I suspect it’s because I was already in the house when I transferred it to you. Invitation by implication, I guess. I dunno.” He shrugged, clearly not interested in why he remained able to come and go in his own house.

“I guess that makes sense,” she yawned, snuggling down in the bed. “Hurry back up, ‘k?”

“I’ll be back before you can fall asleep, pet.”

Leaving the room, he went silently back down to the foyer and stared at the small pile of dust that was all that was left of a girl he remembered chasing around her aunt’s kitchen when she was a child. A girl whose sparkling eyes and saucy mouth had kept Buffy from feeling alone and alienated in this time so different from her own.

With a sigh, he went to the kitchen for a broom and dustpan, determined to remove the reminder before Buffy came down in the morning. He swept it up quickly and walked back into the kitchen. As he opened the door to toss the pan of dust into the garden, movement caught his eye and he looked up to see a white shadow swaying on the path.

“What do you want, Dru?” he asked through tightly clenched teeth. He knew she hadn’t been the one responsible for Molly’s death, but she was a part of Angelus’ family.

“I want MY Spike back,” she surprised him by saying with perfect clarity. “You are not my sweet William anymore.”

“No, I’m not. Don’t know where your Spike is, but if he’s gone because of me, he should be back tomorrow night. Not promising, mind you, but that’d be my guess.”

“Daddy and Grandmother left tonight. They were angry that I didn’t go with them, but I said I had to wait for William. He’s been a bad boy and I will have to punish him for going away.”

“You do that, pet. Punish him all you want – probably make you both happy. Now get off our property.” He turned his back and went into the house, closing the door firmly behind him and taking the back stairs up to his room.

He smelled her tears as soon as he entered the room and knew instinctively that they weren’t the angry, frustrated tears of the Slayer, but the grieving tears of a young girl who had just lost a new friend. With a sigh he shrugged off his clothes and slid into the bed behind her, pulling her into his arms and nuzzling her neck.

When she turned to face him, he licked the tears off and kissed her gently.

“I’m sorry, Buffy. I know she was a good friend to you. I liked her too.”

Buffy sniffled and nodded, grateful that he wasn’t trying to cheer her up with platitudes. It occurred to her that Spike never tried to convince her things were anything but what they really were. He always told her the truth, even when he knew she didn’t want to hear it.

She was suddenly filled with fear that what they had between them, whatever it was – and she really didn’t want to examine it too closely – wouldn’t be able to stand up to the return to Sunnydale and the obvious problems waiting for them there. She buried her head in his neck, wrapped her arms around him and whispered, “Make love to me, William, please.”

“It would be my pleasure, sweetheart,” he whispered back as he began kissing his way from her ear to her mouth.

Teasing her lips open with his tongue, he gently ran it over her teeth, stroking them until her own came out to join his in a sensual dance that was all the more erotic for its lack of urgency. For long minutes they remained holding each other, allowing their lips and tongues to gradually build the need for more contact.

Slowly, his hands began to stroke her silky skin, reveling in the warmth of her body and the way her breathing quickened under his hands. When she sent her own hands moving around his torso with heated caresses, his response was immediate and impossible to miss.

With a sigh, Buffy ran one hand down to stroke his erection, lightly touching him just enough to cause him to push his hips toward her seeking more contact. He slid one hand down to cup her full ass and pull her closer to him, murmuring his approval when she threw one leg over his hip, allowing the head of his cock to rub along her already damp slit.

Buffy gasped as he used the tip of it to spread moisture along the length of her sex, unable to suppress a shudder when he touched her sensitive clit. For as long as he could stand it, he teased her with light touches and strokes that never left his hard length in one place long enough to do anything but make her crave more.

When her moans turned to whimpers and she pushed her hips against his seeking more, he gently rolled her onto her back, following over so that he was on top of her, his cool, smooth skin caressing her warm body everywhere they were touching. He positioned himself at her opening, nudging gently without actually penetrating her willing entrance.

“Invite me in, love,” he pleaded softly. “Tell me you want me to come in.”

Startled by his uncharacteristic reluctance to take what he wanted, but oddly moved by his willingness to wait for her permission, she nodded slightly and whispered, “Come in, Spike. Be inside me, please. I want you to be in me.”

With a shuddering groan, he slowly slid into her waiting velvet moistness, pausing when he was fully in to allow her to get used to him. As he felt her relax around him, he began to move his hips slowly, setting up a gentle rhythm that was as soothing as it was erotic. Buffy gave a contented sigh and began to move with him in gentle syncopation.

She marveled at how good it felt to have this vampire, this slayer of slayers, joined so intimately with her body and how right it seemed to have him there. She struggled to think of a word to describe how she felt about it and finally decided that it made her feel completed. With his cool, thick cock inside her, she felt like together they were a complete person.

She didn’t realize she’d said the word aloud until Spike paused and asked, “What’s that, pet?”

She bit her lip, then blurted. “I said ‘complete’, you make me feel complete. When you’re inside me. That’s how it feels.” She blushed and shut her eyes in case he was going to laugh at her. Instead, she felt him rest his forehead gently against hers as he choked out, “I love you so bloody much, Buffy. You have to know how much I love you.”

Her heart rate sped up and she turned her head, terrified of what she would see if she allowed herself to meet the eyes she could feel burning a hole in her own.

“Look at me, love,” he said softly. “Please, Buffy, just look at me.”

She turned frightened eyes back to meet his unwavering gaze and remained caught there in his darkened eyes as he told her, “That was just a statement of fact, love. It had to be said again, and this seemed the right time and place. Wasn’t a question, or a demand for a response; doesn’t mean you need to say anything in return. I don’t want anything from you – know I’m beneath you; that you can’t love a soulless monster. Just needed you to know it for sure. Love you. Think I always have at some level, and know I always will. I’m yours for as long as you’ll have me. Longer, probably.”

“Mine,” she said slowly, reaching up to touch his face gently.

“Yours,” he agreed, dropping his head to kiss her sweetly. His hips maintained their easy movements, neither of them feeling any reason to rush the release gradually building in their joined bodies.

Spike felt he could remain like they were forever, just allowing the heat of her body to warm his own and letting himself drown in the sensation of being surrounded by everything Buffy. He poured everything he was feeling into his lips, hands and hips as he tried to physically demonstrate what she meant to him.

Buffy clutched the vampire with her arms and legs, trying to use her body to say the words she wouldn’t allow to leave her lips.

(I can’t love another vampire. No matter how much I want to, I’m the Slayer and it’s wrong. This one doesn’t even have a soul. I can’t do it.)

As the inevitable release neither one was really seeking approached, tears leaked from Buffy’s eyes at the thought of losing the intimate contact that was all she would allow herself to feel from this vampire. Even as the tension built up until she was screaming Spike’s name as she fell over the edge into shuddering ecstasy, the tears continued to slid down her cheeks, silent testimony to the emotion to which she refused to admit.

Spike felt her strong walls clenching as she shuddered underneath him, arching up and screaming his name and he allowed his demon out to add his heightened vampire senses to the spasms shaking his body as it emptied itself into her depths.

Buffy’s slayer senses somehow knew when Spike changed and she threw her head back, offering her throat to the demon with complete fearlessness. The tiny pain of his fangs sliding into her throat was immediately banished when the strong pulls of her blood sent her shuddering into another, more powerful orgasm. The demon pulled on her blood while her supernaturally strong muscles squeezed his cock until there was nothing left but the satisfying pain/pleasure.

When their bodies had experienced as much sensation as they could without losing consciousness, they gradually subsided into trembling gasps for air. The vampire carefully licked his bite until it was closed and healing, He began to reluctantly pull away from the Slayer, but she held tightly with her legs and said simply, “No”.

He nodded his understanding, saying gently, “Just going to shift us, love, so you can breathe a little easier.”

He carefully rolled onto his back, bringing her with him so that she was draped over his body, his limp cock still buried inside her. Reaching with one hand, he grabbed the covers and pulled them back up over her shoulders, smiling as she murmured her thanks.

“You’re welcome, my love,” he whispered, knowing from her even breathing that she was already asleep.

Throughout the night, they remained intimately joined, waking enough to make slow, sensual love again two more times, before they allowed their bodies to finally slide apart.





You must login (register) to review.