Previously: Oz had a confrontation with Angelus, neither one of them coming out the victor. Wesley is concerned because Cordelia hasn’t checked in. Buffy and Spike have been mated, which Giles just discovered, but they also have all reached the conclusion that the only way to remove the chip is by contacting The Initiative.
Book Two. Chapter 26. A soundless calm descends
Lightning makes shadows in the storm.
Nightmare and bliss tell the silent truth.
Thelonius, Shadows in the Storm (1988)
The line-storm clouds fly tattered and swift.
The road is forlorn all day.
Robert Frost, A Line–Storm Song.
But, first a hush of peace—a soundless calm descends;
The struggle of distress, and fierce impatience ends;
Mute music soothes my breast—unuttered harmony,
That I could never dream, till Earth was lost to me.
Emily Brontë, The Prisoner
The chirp of his cell phone woke him from his much needed sleep. For a long moment, Wesley wasn’t sure of his surroundings, but as wakefulness crept up on him, the memories from last night stole through him.
Transporting Oz to and from hospital hadn’t proved a problem at all; It was the in-between and the after that was a problem. Caught in mid-morph, frozen by the pain, Dr. Thomas hadn’t been able to set his jaw until the poor guy had been drugged. It had taken triple the amount of painkillers – based on normal human physiology and even then, Oz still sported claws and fur. At least his mouth had reverted to almost human proportions. Dr. Thomas hadn’t wanted to give him more drugs, afraid it would impede his healing.
Tara had, unsurprisingly, insisted on bringing him back to Revello Drive, and no one had really objected. Settling him in the basement, amidst Tara’s things had almost gone unnoticed, although Giles had cautioned that it might be necessary to chain him. Again Tara had objected, insisting that it wasn’t necessary that Oz wouldn’t hurt her and, to prove her point, she’d climbed into bed beside him.
Giles was still downstairs with them, keeping an eye on Oz’ progress and he’d come out to watch the sunrise. Wesley realized he must’ve fallen asleep sometime before the sun actually rose, because he’d missed it completely.
It must have been cold this morning, because the blanket. . . wait a moment. I didn’t bring a blanket out with me. . . Wesley reached for his cell phone, distractedly wondering about the mysterious presence of the blanket.
“Yo English.” Gunn’s deep voice greeted him.
“Hello Charles.” He winced, realizing he sounded barely awake and suddenly aware of an annoying crick in his neck.
“Checking in. Haven’t heard from Cordelia, man, I’m starting to get worried.”
It had been on Wesley’s mind also. She hadn’t gone more than two days without checking in, but now it had been close to five and Wesley was very worried that something had happened and Cordelia was lost to them.
“No word then?” He knew his question was going to have a negative response, but he needed to ask nonetheless.
“Nope. Nothing.” Gunn turned aside to address a remark to Fred, no doubt, and Wes waited until he was done.
“Very well, we’re going to start looking. Hopefully, she’s still . . . . “ his voice trailed off as he realized that hope was a very illusive commodity at the moment.
“Yeah. I getcha. Lemme know if you need any backup.” Gunn had an idea where Wesley had gone, but he didn’t want to say out loud where they were in case someone over heard.
“Probably won’t be necessary. My resources are more than adequate, but I shall let you know if we require your aid.” Wesley was about to disconnect when Gunn’s wry amusement stopped him.
“Dude, why you always sound like you swallowed a dictionary?”
Despite his worry about Cordelia, Wesley smiled. “Properly spoken English is never out of place.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just find Cordy.” Gunn clicked off, leaving Wesley to figure out how to find Cordelia.
Giles had gone upstairs earlier, when Dawn had still been home, her footsteps disturbing his light slumber. Tara knew he was worried, concerned for her and wary of what a wounded werewolf might do in the throes of drugged pain. But she wasn’t worried. Oz wouldn’t hurt her, not even an out-of-his-head Oz.
She trusted him. Trusted him probably the way Buffy trusted Spike; that no matter what or how bad the pain got he wouldn’t ever hurt her, because he loved her.
Tara didn’t delude herself into thinking it was the same kind of love, because Spike and Buffy definitely had a groiny thing going on and while sometimes she was curious, it just wasn’t filled with passion.
Oz whimpered in pain and Tara ran a hand over his arm, soft, soothing murmurs sounding in the still air. She’d managed to snatch some sleep here and there, mostly when he’d been out cold and it was enough for now. Once he was out of the woods, she’d be able to completely surrender to sleep, but until then she’d manage.
Six months ago, if someone had told her, hell, if she’d dreamed this clairvoyently, she wouldn’t have believed any of it. Willow gone from her life – after playing god – Buffy and Spike a happy couple – and Oz as her, well, pretty much her best friend. Yet this was her life.
This was her family. One vampire, one Slayer, a werewolf, a witch – Tara stifled the giggle that was threatening. Her life sounded like a title from the Chronicles of Narnia or a weird adjunct to Harry Potter. She suddenly wondered if one of them should write all this up and somehow get it published as fiction, because most people wouldn’t believe it. Maybe I’ll be able to get Spike to do it, ‘coz he’s got a way with words. I’m sure he could do something like this.
Her companion groaned again and Tara watched him wince in pain. Her hand rested on his chest and Oz’ eyes flickered opening barely to focus on her. His hand clasped hers, their fingers entwining and he closed his eyes in relief. Tara smiled, settled in beside him, and waited until he drifted back into restless sleep.
Two floors over her head, Spike had just put Connor down in his crib; letting the boy watch the mobile the girls bought him last week. He thought it was a ridiculous thing, but was secretly pleased, because it was some educational black and white thing with bright splashes of red. None of the girls had said anything, but he knew this silly thing had been picked with him in mind.
Which was kind of gratifying, but in a way, a bit silly. They should’ve picked it with the sprog in mind, not me. Trailing a hand over the boy’s legs, Spike tickled him and then focused on the blond watching him. She had a smile on her face and Spike raised an eyebrow in question. As answer, she crooked a finger at him and as he stalked in her direction, Buffy giggled.
“Not supposed to laugh at your mate, sunshine.” He faked a bit of a pout and Buffy sighed.
“No? Why not?” She watched him come closer, her eyes focused on his face, drinking in his expression.
He pounced on the bed, trapping her underneath him. “Coz, kitten. He’s the Big Bad an’ he’ll eat you up for laughin’.”
Her breath caught on his words, his expression no longer playful. “Oh you will?”
Spike pushed up her nightgown with one hand, his fingers inching toward her warm center, his mouth at her neck, brushing over his marks. “Yeah” he breathed against her, “yeah. Eat you all up.”
Two fingers slid inside her, Buffy gasping into his cheek, her hands looking for a way to hold onto him. “Oh. . . yeah. . . hhmmmm.”
Buffy pushed at his jeans, her warm hands scrabbling to free him from the confining denim. “Now. . . c’mon. . . “
Trailing his slick fingers up beneath the lace, Spike licked the salty skin of her neck, his fangs grazing over the scarred marks and Buffy writhed against him. “Spike, please. . . don’t tease me.”
“Not teasin’ . . . Love you.” His erection popped free, seeking her warmth. “Need you baby. . . so. . . yeah. . . that’s it.” He slid inside, both of them gasping for air, panting with the effort to hold back. She was living warmth, surrounding him in heat and sunshine. “Love you beautiful girl, I do.”
“Love you back.” He froze in mid-thrust, his eyes riveted on her eyes. Buffy stared back at him, not flinching from the sudden intensity in his laser bright blue eyes.
Spike couldn’t speak, couldn’t focus on anything but her eyes. There was no hiding, for either of them. His heart was laid bare, equally to hers. Buffy flexed around him, her hips moving involuntarily. “Do you . . . say it.” His voice was a hush, a bare whisper of sound.
Her lips quirked, almost like she was going to tease him, but then she took a deep breath, gathering her courage and, looking deeply into his eyes, she whispered, “love you Spike.”
His head dropped down, his forehead against her lips, shielding his eyes from her. Gruff with emotion, Spike said, “once more. Say it.”
She almost laughed from sheer nerves. Blowing out a breath, Buffy said, “look at me.” Spike lifted his eyes to hers, tears pooling in his cerulean depths. Her smile took his breath away and he smiled at her. “Love you.”
“Oh god. . . . bloody hell, kitten, I love you, I do.”
Cool lips curled over her face, words of love murmured over her. His hips pumped into her, his cock bumping into her, thumping against the spongy bundle of nerves, driving her into oblivion. Her body arched up, her inner walls clutching at him, milking him hard. “Love you, love you. . . good . . . fuckin’ hell. . . yeah . . I love you.
Time had no meaning. Daylight meant nothing. Night brought pain, not relief. Pain was constant, measured in breaths, her sense of self gone.
Cordelia had stopped crying – after Angel had raped her repeatedly, ignoring her feeble attempts to beat him off – taking her brutally, ripping into her, splitting her asunder. Blood and other fluids dripped from her vagina and her ass, pooling on the mattress below her body. Cuts adorned her, most of the newer, fresher ones still bleeding sluggishly and the scent of blood was thick in the air around her. She couldn’t breathe without taking it in, the scent of it pervading everything, clogging her nostrils and throat.
It was easy now to slip away, to lose herself some place where her mind disconnected from her body, getting free of the pain. Beyond caring about anything, she focused only on the ceiling above her, her mind blank.
Buffy was swimming toward waking when she realized two things. The first was a rolling sense of something being very off and the second was that there was approximately one hundred and sixty seven pounds of dead weight in the middle of her back. While the feeling of Spike laying on her was normally comforting and something she didn’t even think twice about, yet at this particular moment, it was causing a tiny bit of distress. She was face down on the bed, some of the pillows below her head and one wrapped up in her arms and Spike was laying almost fully on top of her, his arms right next to hers and his head resting on her shoulder. The reason why this wasn’t okay was the icky feeling in her belly. Telling herself it was just nerves didn’t actually work and the unease grew until it became imperative for her to disturb the vampire sleeping on her.
“Spike.” No movement. “Spike, wake up.” Wiggling a little bit to try and jostle him awake, Buffy tried again, “c’mon Spike, get off me.”
Again, there was less than no reaction. Having a mate that slept like the dead was not always a good thing. Spike didn’t require a whole lot of sleep, but when he did sleep it was deeply and fully, pretty much the way he did everything. Grumbling a bit louder, Buffy tried moving around to dislodge him. “C’mon you big oaf. Get off me.”
The weird queasy feeling was getting worse and she really needed to pee also, making her desire to slide out from under him very necessary. Shifting her elbow and shoulder, Buffy succeeded in moving him a little bit, enough to get his head off her right shoulder and onto the exact middle of her back. By small increments, Buffy was able to wriggle out from under his hold and she slipped from the bed and hightailed it into the bathroom.
Once there, she wasn’t sure which was more urgent, the need to pee or the overwhelming need to calm her belly. She hesitated, nearly bouncing from foot to foot, then realized what she was doing and blew an exasperated breath out in frustration with herself. Blond much? Geez, just pee already.
Laughing at herself, Buffy did exactly that, then fought the nausea that crested up in her throat. Ugh. Uhoh. This is soooo not good. Gonna. . . Leaning over the sink, Buffy gagged, holding back the bile that was rising. Ew. Just, not good. Why do I feel like this? Did I pick up some weird bug?
Rinsing her mouth after flushing the toilet and washing her hands, Buffy faced herself in the mirror. She didn’t look any different, there weren’t any dark circles under her eyes and no sign of anything else wrong, other than a tired look in her eyes. But lately that look was there all the time, so she didn’t think anything of it. Fatigue is my friend, she thought, always hanging around. So much was going on, their life was really complicated, and getting tougher by the day. Her sleeping patterns had been off for weeks, since Connor’s arrival almost, since she had been sleeping on a similar pattern to Spike’s. But now, because the baby was up earlier than was permissible by god, she had to get up with him and make sure he was fed. She’d been surviving mostly on stolen naps and stamina, but it appeared that had all caught up with her.
Heading back into the bedroom, Buffy watched as Spiked rolled over and buried his face into the pillow she’d abandoned in her desperation to reach the bathroom. His purring growl rolled through the room like thunder and she smiled a bit at his possessiveness. Connor stirred again in the crib and Buffy was tempted to leave him there, but she changed her mind as she neared the infant and smelled his diaper. Another wave of nausea surged up and it was all she could do to lift him up. “Oh C-man, what is this in your pants? Ugh. Baby boy, this is stinky.”
Making quick work of cleaning him up Buffy then ran downstairs to get him a bottle. There was stirring in the living room, which she deliberately ignored and made quick work of getting Connor back upstairs and into bed with her and Spike. She needed to sleep. Everything else, including Oz, could wait until she felt better. Scooting into the bed beside Spike, Buffy curled an arm around Connor and propped up the bottle with one hand, closing her eyes. The sleeping vampire shifted, rolled over and wrapped his arm around her, his head once more in the crook of her neck. Sighing once, Buffy leaned down and kissed the top of Connor’s head, settling back against Spike and was asleep before the baby had finished half the bottle.
Willow was pacing around her bedroom, her eyes narrowed in concentration. She’d waited outside Tara’s lecture hall this morning, hoping for a glimpse of her former girlfriend, to no avail. The honey-blond girl hadn’t been in class this morning, in fact, according to someone in her study group, she’d abruptly left them all last night in the library, without so much as more than a single word.
She knew what called her away. Well, knew who it had been. Had to be Spike or Buffy needing Tara’s help for some slayage emergency. It was aggravating. They were always interfering in her plans, in things she wanted and it was time it stopped. Can’t have those two messing up my life anymore. Its all their fault anyway. Spike with his over-protectiveness and meanness and hey! Evil vampire there, no soul to make his all-judgy-ness anything near being right. And Buffy with her oh I need Spike and >b>Spike is good now and spells and magic are bad. . . Willow pivoted on a heel, unaware she was gesturing wildly, her voice a soft sneering whine in the stillness of her room. And what’s with the Oz thing? Why was Tara all with the hanging with Oz and Oz? Neither one of them was . . . Tara was gay, and not liking of men so. . . and. . .
Huffing out a deep breath, Willow tried to gather the threads of her agitation and mold them into something more manageable, something she could use, but there were too many targets for her ire.
Buffy. Spike. Tara. Oz. Oh yeah, and Angel. Damn people just kept getting in her way. Giles. Willow pursed her lips, an idea beginning to form in her head. It worked once, maybe a second time would be the charm.
All I need to do is figure out how I’m going to get it done. . . And once I have that, everything else will take care of itself.
Making his way into the kitchen, Wesley tried weighing his options, trying to figure out who he should discuss his worries about Cordelia with first. Time was crucial. If she was merely missing and out of cell phone range that was one thing; but there was a real niggling fear in his heart that it wasn’t something so simple. Angel and Drusilla had left Sunnydale briefly, only returning the other night. And Cordelia was missing.
The two were tied together.
If Cordelia was being held by the two vampires, time was of the essence. They couldn’t leave her in their hands. Not if he called himself her friend, not if he cared anything for her.
Standing at the kitchen counter, his eyes staring out into the neighbor’s yard, Wesley’s sense of foreboding grew exponentially. He knew, in his gut, that Cordelia was in grave danger. Time to rally the troops.
Putting the kettle on and getting the coffee pot ready, Wesley opened one of the cabinets and figured he might as well get a substantial lunch together as he was waiting for the occupants of the house to begin the day.
Contrary to what she thought, Spike wasn’t very deeply asleep. He was swimming in and out of wakefulness, aware of sounds and movements, but he was tired; as tired as she was, but he was being lazy and not getting up when he heard Connor rustling about, and very unwilling to deal with the smell the infant was emitting. So when she climbed back into bed, Spike curled around her and fell back further into sleep once he knew she was there.
His arms snaked around her, left hand sliding up underneath the nightgown, holding onto her breast and his other worming its way beneath her head. Spike nuzzled the back of her neck and unconsciously registered her slowing heartbeat and breathing and also the faster rhythms of the infant beside her. In the recesses of his mind, Spike was aware this was far more domestic than he’d ever thought he’d be, moments like these not even in the scope of his understanding as a human. Victorian families did not sleep all jumbled together like this, at least those of his social standing; Vampires, on the other hand were essentially solitary, although he and Drusilla had often slept entwined, but he knew of nests where all the vampires slept together like puppies.
But he also knew that he would not trade these moments for anything. Moments like this, when he and Buffy were twined about each other, were worth any price he had to pay. He also felt closer to her than he’d ever felt to any other being. He wanted to crawl inside her skin and stay within her forever. Opening one eye, Spike gauged the time of day by the light filtering in behind the dark curtains. Soft noises reached his ears from downstairs and he knew someone else had to be up and around. It was just a little bit after noon and he knew the sprog would be looking for something to eat and he could get up and put him back in his crib, but Spike didn’t want to leave the warmth of his own bed.
His hand flexed around Buffy’s breast and he smirked sleepily when she shifted in his embrace. A smile played about his lips and his hips flexed against the warmth of her ass, his erection insistently nudging her. Buffy’s arm left its spot over the baby and curled around to lay on his thigh. Sliding his thigh between both of hers, Spike let his hand drop down to cover her bare mound, moving aside her hand. His fingers teased the curls shielding her pussy and she arched toward his hand like the kitten he called her. His unnecessary breathing sped up, as he drank in the scent of her arousal. Parting the folds of her core, Spike let two fingers brush around her clit, tantalizing both of them. She was so wet and warm, it always astonished him just how much – and how very different their temperatures were. Here, as he dipped into her, was where it showed most. Within her depths, in the heat and slippery dampness that coated his fingers better than a second skin, was where it mattered most, where it manifested. A whimpering mewl escaped her mouth and she breathed out his name in a hush. Dark navy blue eyes fluttered open, watching her arch up into his questing fingers, her body knowing, responding to his touch even in her sleep.
Spike leaned closer, his mouth against her shoulder, blunt teeth nipping and pulling on her skin, his tongue licking patterns between each bite. Buffy let loose a breathy moan, which made him harden more. His cock was hard and heavy, his hips angling between her legs, the tip of his cock sliding between her ass and her pussy. He wanted inside. . . . wanted to be buried. . . . wanted her warm liquid depths to swallow him whole.
“Open up for me, little girl . . . c’mon, lemme in.” His voice was another caress across her skin, his hands creating magic within her. Buffy slowly reached behind her, cupping his head, languidly moving toward his touch.
“Mmmmm.” Her eyes fluttered, fighting against the need to watch what he was doing, wanting to savor his touch without distraction. A hard bite sent shock waves through her and Buffy couldn’t fight him any longer when his fingers plunged into her depths simultaneously. “Spike. . . oh. . . “
She breathed out heavily, when his tongue and teeth pulled away from her skin and a cool breath wafted over the bites. His thumb brushed over her clit, once, twice and pressed down hard on the third, sending a jolt through her. “C’mon baby. . . lemme in.”
Oohhh. . he called me baby. . . never. . . oh. Baby. Buffy cracked open one eye and found two little blue eyes peeking up at her. She froze, her body stiffening up under his touch. Oh no. Nahuh. This is not happening. I’m so not doing this with him in the bed with us.
He didn’t notice at first that she had frozen under his hands, but when she pushed him away a bit, Spike growled. “Wha? Buffy?”
“We can’t. Just can’t. I can’t do this right now.” Spike growled again and Buffy started babbling. “No. He’s watching me. I mean us. He’s awake and I can’t.”
Spike leaned up on his hand, almost dumping her on the mattress. “What the fuck do you mean, he’s watching?” His head swivelled around looking for an intruder.
It took her a minute to get his attention, because his gaze was sweeping all around the room. His eyes were narrowed on the door, but it was closed, and he shifted his gaze to the window. “No one’s watching kitten. Now what the hell are you blathering about?”
Wordlessly, she grabbed his face and tilted his head down toward the mattress, and after a moment, Spike focused on what she was showing him. Connor had dropped the bottle and his eyes sparkled when Spike looked at him and a baby grin crossed his features. The vampire looked from Buffy to Connor and back again, before it dawned on him what Buffy had been saying. A leer formed on his lips and a definitely wicked twinkle sparkled in his eyes. “Spawn won’t know what’s going on. Won’t care either. C’mon kitten, lemme in.”
“Are you crazy?” Buffy spluttered as his hand snaked up under her nightgown, his fingers brushing across her mound. “Spike. . . no. No way. Not while he’s. . . Spike!” She shrieked out that last bit, when he pushed his fingers inside her wet core.
“C’mon kitten. . . need you so much.” He watched her face, knowing she was wavering and one more touch, one more kiss would put her over the edge where she didn’t care any longer, where it wouldn’t matter if there was a marching band trooping through their room. Connor’s flailing arm smacked against her and Spike groaned internally as her eyes went wide again.
“Nooohh. . . we are so not doing this in front of him.” Her hips bucked involuntarily, arching into his hand.
“Yeah, we are.” Spike’s lips curled up in a leer and his tongue poked out between his lips. “Oh yeah, sunshine, we are. . .”
“No.” She reached up, bracing her arms on his shoulders as if to push him away and Spike kicked off the blankets, forcing her legs wider. “We are not.”
Buffy knocked his arm out, pushing him to the side and rolling over on top of him, while he bucked up and rolled over again. They thudded onto the floor and he twisted at the last second so that she landed on top of him and he grinned up at her. “Outta view now, love.”
She gaped at him for a moment, unable to think clearly, and he took advantage of her momentary lapse by flicking her nipple with his tongue. He rolled over once more, tucking her beneath him. “Gotcha now sweetheart.”
“Spike. . . “ her protest was cut off by his mouth, his hips wedging between hers. His cock teased at her entrance and Buffy forgot all about why she’d been objecting.
I've recently gotten some not so positive reviews and while I understand that not everyone can like everything I've written, I'd prefer that if you do have a complaint and/or something constructive to say, that you leave an email address so that I can contact you and explain why I've done some of the things I've done. I'm also getting the feeling that I'm starting to lose people here and maybe that's just my paranoia talking, but maybe not. Please let me know what you think. Thanks.