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Here it is. What you've been waiting for!
~~~Chapter 16 ~ Reverie

The meeting was over. MacGregor was dismissed and Spike and Giles were once again alone in the office considering how very strange their lives were over a dram or two of Scotch. It was fitting. Giles admitted that he finally must concede that the world was not black and white and no one should know that better than Spike. They would have to come up with a plan to deal with Binnemon. Damn it all, he really liked Binne but evidently he was a very bad man, a very bad man indeed…or maybe not. Maybe he was another ambiguous vampire caught up in something over which he had no control and was doing his best to remain decent too. Giles was suddenly feeling very old. Life was certainly easier when everything was black and white.

Footsteps in the hall? They glanced at each other. Now what?

There was a firm knock on the door before the door crashed open, “Come in, why don’t you, Xander. “ said Giles.

“Thank God you’re alright.” Xander was out of breath from taking the stairs two at a time.
“I got here as fast as I could. My car wouldn’t start…I think I flooded it…so I ran all the way here…almost five miles…..OK…three….but a lot of it was uphill.” He stopped to catch his breath, holding a stitch in his side, finally he announced, “MacGregor’s a vampire!”

He was answered only by silence, cross glances and Spike and Giles’ rolling eyes.

“What?”
~~~

Giles sent Xander down to start the car. The night turned chill and it would be nice to get into a warm car. It gave him time to speak to Spike.

“Spike, I need to talk to you. I wanted to find just the right words, but …words fail me. I’ll make it simple.”

At that moment , Giles thought Spike looked like he must have when he was a proper English gentleman. His sharp features were gentle and kind and his eyes shone with a sincere concern as he waited to hear what he had to say. Giles was grateful, it made things so much easier for him.

Giles took a deep breath and said, “Buffy is here, Spike.” If Spike was shocked, his expression gave no clue. “She’s staying in The Harborage, a cottage about a quarter kilometer beyond the Training Hall on the same road. Here’s the key.”

“Rupert, I…”

“Just go to her. She needs you.” He slipped on his jacket and sped out the door calling over his shoulder, “Lock the door behind you when you leave the office, will you? Thanks.”

~~~

Spike collapsed in the chair as Giles shut the door. His mind was reeling. Buffy is here?…and Giles is telling me to go to her?….gave me the soddin’ key? The man hates me, hates what I am, what I’ve done….what I’m capable of…he tried to kill me. He can’t be serious. He was half out of his mind with worry when we were just friends.

He lifted the key in his hand and stared at it as though it was going to tell him something….help him understand. Buffy is here. Abruptly, he was overcome with worry. I can’t do this….what can I say to her…She thinks I’m dead, gone…she made peace with it. Why should I go muckin’ it up now?

She’s goin’ to be pissed is what. She’s goin’ to kick my undead ass halfway across England and back again, sure. Maybe that’s what the watcher wants. Here I was thinkin’ we came to an understanding. Maybe this is his idea of a new and creative way to get me killed….

~~~

MacGregor was pensive when he left Mr. Giles office. They listened to him. They hadn’t killed him. Maybe his luck was holding out. Forty years…for forty years he had lived his lie. It was a good life. He knew more about Vampires than the average vampire. He laughed at the irony. If they offered it, he would hold a doctorate in Vampire Mythology. He approached his need for knowledge systematically. He actually drew up a study guide for himself and gathered material and studied vigilantly until he could quote chapter and verse of vampire lore. He learned about bloodlines and families and the most important historical vampires, and critical battles, causes and victors. He studied the skills and feeding habits and tribal hierarchy. Despite all inclinations to dismiss vampires as demons and only demons, he knew that he was part of a highly sophisticated society full of ancient traditions scrupulously observed under pain of…well …. pain.

For all his understanding of ritual and tradition, he never moved among other vampires. His was a sedentary life. He never even met another vampire until tonight. MacGregor was a dead man walking forty years among the living. For all he knew…he knew nothing as he remembered shaking hands with the heads of all the departments and accepting gifts and thanks and good wishes from students and staff and alumni as his retirement dinner was drawing to a close.

His retirement should have been a time of joy but there was no joy now for Malcolm MacGregor. Since his turning he knew no home but his quarters at the University. In all that time the only real problem had been his forever-youthful appearance and not even that until he reached 60 human years. Then it became the talk of the campus and so he reached back to his knowledge of theater and each morning began using whiteface on his comb to lightly gray his hair. His face was unchanged but silly humans accepted the hair change as at last a sign of aging and he was no longer the center of college gossip.

Even his peculiar eating habits had never been discovered. He arranged for his position in Administration to include overseeing the Medical School budget so discrepancies for human blood ordered and human blood delivered was never noticed. He was a vampire for forty years and had never known blood lust except for the morning of his awakening.

Curiosity about his vampire visage was maddening. He would feel the ridges on his forehead and prick his finger on his fangs and rant in frustration at the mirror that showed no reflection. He finally took photos of himself in true face with a Polaroid camera that he studied carefully looking for some sign of the face he remembered in them. Still not satisfied he decided to make a plaster mold of his demon face. At least it had form and texture. He painted it with flesh tones and glowing amber eyes. He had so successfully separated his sense of self from this monster that he was able to examine it with purely academic interest. One of his colleagues noticed it one day and he told him that it was a souvenir, a Devil Mask from South America.

Appeasing the demon in him had been a greater challenge. He found it harder to keep his demon from surging forth at minor aggravations and so he became a sportsman in his spare time. He bought all the necessary accoutrements, camping supplies, climbing gear, rifles and hunting knives and set off at every opportunity into the woods and hunting grounds of the British Isles and Europe and never used the gear. He would park his car and with nothing more than a backpack and a knife he would run like the wind all the while fine tuning his vampire senses taking in the sights and sounds and scents of all that was around him. He would locate the presence of large game and track it and hunt it down finally engaging it in beastly combat to release the rage of the demon.

If he came upon humans he would play with them as a cat plays with a mouse. Using his speed he would allow them flashing glances, just enough to confuse and frighten them. He would laugh as he listened to their chatter as they tried to decipher what they thought they were seeing, hearing. Mostly, they thought he was the wind in the trees, or a bird aflutter. Sometimes they broke camp and left convinced they’d been haunted. Whenever that happened he would wait until they were well gone and then rip their lodge to shreds, evidence for them upon their return that they had been stalked and were lucky to escape with their lives. The violence satisfied a need.

Over the years, he found that his need for these escapes became greater at changes of season and the waxing and waning of the moon and for that reason he planned to hunt more often at that time. It was critical to his continued well being that he keep control and for all those years, he was successful. Malcolm MacGregor was a civilized vampire.

He never killed a human, never knew a grave, never lived in squalor, never had a barroom fight. And now, here he was …never one to give up….trying to see a way to a new future. After the retirement it was necessary for him to give up his quarters. Fortunately, the University had been generous in allowing him time to search for a suitable flat. He passed as living among the living for forty years. Continuing to do so was the only acceptable option. He needed to find something that would provide lodging and a blood supply.

Of course, another option would be to really embrace his vampire self. He played at it regularly over the years, but a romp in the woods once a week hardly compared to becoming a creature of the night. He couldn’t get past the fact that he never killed a human. He hunted and killed animals, big animals, but they were dumb animals and were unable to plan a counter attack. He did not survive for forty years using his wits to die at the hand of human having one good day.

He knew he couldn’t consider subsisting on animal blood. The very idea was revolting, after all, he was above that.

MacGregor was an actor, he could be anything he wanted to be…a doctor of English Literature, who had forty years experience in the Administration of one of the most prestigious Universities in the modern world, he ought to be able to find a job. It was a new challenge and he needed to ponder the problem. He knew a solution would present itself.

He traveled south through Scotland searching the schools for an available position. The academic life was the only life he knew. Any headmaster would be thrilled to hire someone with his resume except that he obtained his doctorate in 1965. Even if he was a prodigy and was twenty (ridiculous) when he earned his degree he’d be 60 now and he still looked just over 30, a fine figure of a thirty-year-old at that! The future wasn’t going to be so easy after all.
~~

Xander never quieted for one moment during the short drive back to his car. Giles wondered in amazement at his capacity to go on without breathing. He left out no detail as he described his encounter with MacGregor. He told a tale of what was clearly gothic horror. After he narrowly escaped being spotted by Enfield as he left without his parcel, he decided to creep up on the crypt and try to see in the window.

Giles smiled as he envisioned Xander dressed in a mid nineteenth century constables uniform “creeping” with CAT LIKE TREAD up to the mausoleum.
Xander went on to tell of the well-worn path to the crypt…he was sure that was important. This looked like an abandoned cemetery, why would the walk be cleared? After listening to make sure he was alone, he took a chance and went around to the side and peeked in the window…which was clean, by the way. It looked lived in! Really, lived in. Well-worn books on what looked like a writing table…. from his viewpoint they looked like the kind of stuff that used to be in the Council’s library…when there was a council, of course. There were clothes hanging on nails or spikes that had been driven into the cracks where the drawers were.
“Drawers?”
“Not drawers? You know what I mean. There a sections for several coffins in the walls… aren’t they drawers?”
“No Xander, when you bury someone you expect them to stay buried. Drawers would imply that you might want to take them out from time to time. Those sections are supposed to be sealed.” Giles explained.
“Oh.”
But that wasn’t the worst of it. While he was looking through the window, he noticed movement…on the cot. By now his breath was fogging up the window and he wanted to wipe it to see but knew if he did it might draw attention so he just squinched up his eye to try to see better. Sure enough, when he was able to see what moved, he was able to make out a bumpy forehead and fangs. He forgot all about being armed with a stake and holy water and opened his mouth in a silent scream and fell back on his backside. He scrambled to gain his footing when he tripped over the cooler that Enfield delivered and knocked it over…out fell several pints of blood in bags, labeled like they are in hospitals.
He ran back to his car and jumped in the driver’s side and turned the key in the ignition and started pumping his foot on the gas when he saw the vamp heading out of the cemetery. He dropped down in the seat hoping not to be seen with his foot still pumping the gas pedal. After several minutes he found the courage to lift his head and saw no one. He tried to start the car and was met with the sound of the little engine that couldn’t. He realized he’d flooded it. He had to warn Giles and ran to the Administration Building.
Now, that was what really happened. Xander’s version sounded more like a scene from a James Bond film with Xander playing the lead.
“I was half way here before I realized the vampire I saw was MacGregor. So, from your reaction, I guess you and Spike already knew.”

Giles’ voice was compassionate as he said, “Yes and no. Actually, Spike had him spotted straight away…vampire senses and all that. So don’t be too hard on yourself Xander, although I do wish you’d told me what you intended to do. You’re too valuable to the team now, it would be a shame to lose you over something so trivial.” Of course, in part Giles was thinking that a great deal of time and money had gone into training Xander and it would be a waste of resources. Xander took it to mean that he was really good at his job and too valuable to lose…and that was all right with Giles.

~~~
An apprehensive Spike walked to the cottage trying to pull himself together. After a century and a half he still remembered anxiety so intense his shirt shook with each heart beat and the only sound he heard was the pounding rush of blood in his ears. The memory was so vivid he stopped and checked for a pulse. The lights were on in the cottage. Was his lady afraid of the dark? Not bloody likely….careless, more like. Did Giles tell her that he was here? Damn. Why didn’t I ask?

Can’t just unlock the door and walk in…if Giles didn’t tell her the sight of me could scare her to death, she still thinks I’m a goner. He thought a minute…I’ll knock…..No…if she answers the door and I’m standing there and he hasn’t told her… same bloody thing..

Shit!…settle down, Spike… He sat on the doorstep, took out his cigarettes and lit one up. His hand was shaking. Oh yeah, he thought, I’m the Big Bad, I am…. and laughed.

The cigarette smoke drifted into the air circling his head and floated into the partially open window. Call it Fate, call it Kismet…it doesn’t matter. The familiar smell of cigarette smoke drifted into the cottage and into Buffy’s sleeping senses. Buffy was always a dreamer. Slayer dreams were vital. She once asked Giles if being a dreamer was prerequisite to becoming a slayer. He laughed and told her it probably was and she should be glad for her dreams, they saved her life more than once, but all her dreams were not Slayer dreams. Her dreams of Spike kept him alive for her. She welcomed them, even wished for them. Sometime the dreams were so vivid she would wake half expecting him to be lying alongside her. They would make love and she would fall asleep in his arms. Sometimes they would just talk. In the morning, she would remember everything. She always knew he knew her better than she knew herself. Dream Spike gave her insight and it didn’t matter that she understood that now, in the dreams he was just a tool her mind used to keep her on an even keel. She was happy to have Spike any way she could have him.

Spike peeked through the curtains…maybe I’ll spot her.

Through lace curtains, he saw her curled in an old fashioned chair. She was so tiny and she looked so vulnerable. Just looking at her….made his chest feel heavy and he stifled a sob. Watcher says she needs me. Never thought I’d see her again. He stood up, straightened his shoulders…All right, you silly prat. Here it is, everything you ever dreamed of…

He turned the key and entered the cottage. Taking off his duster, he hung it on the coat tree by the door and walked over to where she slept and dropped to his knees beside her and closed his eyes … taking in her scent. For a moment he was afraid to open them….afraid she’d be gone…afraid that this was just another dream.

She was alone. Only the sound of her soft breathing and steady heartbeat filled his senses. He took a turn around the cottage taking in its ambiance of another time. Then he gathered her tray and carried it to the kitchen and then went into the bedroom and turned down the bed. After extinguishing all the lights, he picked her up and carried her to the bed. She stirred, and muttered something but did not wake. So much for slayer senses, he thought, then again, maybe somewhere in the recesses of her mind she remembers that I’m no threat. He laid her on the bed and drew the covers over her. Settling himself on the window seat, he rested, never taking his eyes from her. He watched her breathe, listened to the steady thrum of her heart.

Buffy mewed in her sleep…he sat up …She was muttering….something garbled…he couldn’t make it out. She must have upped the thermostat. The room was uncommonly warm. It didn’t surprise him when she kicked off the covers. Her scent … drifted to him. In her restlessness, her nightgown pulled up. He could see the swell of her breasts and her hand resting across her flat belly. This could be enough, he thought…just to see her…to watch her. Not enough for the demon though. It was consumed with want, punishing him with desire. His love for Buffy was so much more than just lust, he thought, as he reached into his pants to adjust against the pressure building there. Spike watched spellbound as she moaned and slipped her hand beneath the silky white patch that covered her curls and watched as her fingers moved caressing herself….and whispered, “Spike…”

Bloody hell. He stood and walked beside where she lay and saw a small smile came to her face….he tilted his head and furrowed his brow in confusion…she was asleep…he knew…her heart rate was unchanged. When she spoke and her voice was husky and low, “Don’t just stand there, Spike, come to me.” He didn’t move. She was asleep…he knew….but she was dreaming. Buffy beckoned to him and said, “William. Don’t make me beg.” Without a word, he moved to sit beside her. She pouted, her voice never above a whisper, she said, “No William, come to me…, please.”

Rising to her knees on the bed she knelt next to him, raised her arms around his shoulders and gently pulled him to her. Speechless, he returned the touch. He was afraid to speak lest he wake her. Her hands slid down his shoulders and along his arms and locked hands as she directed him to kneel with her, face to face. Spike, the Big Bad…the great lover with years of carnal experience was helpless how to respond….so enchanted was he. Her fingers danced along his face and brushed against his lips. Finally she took his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his in a sweet kiss that teased with a lick and nipped as she pulled away.

She broke the silence as she reached to undo his belt buckle when she said, “I don’t remember if I ever called you William before…and if I did it was probably just to be cruel. I need to make up for that.” Spike opened his eyes and started to speak. She raised a finger to his lips and said, “Shhhh,” and then kissed him again as her hands undid each button of his jeans. Spike gasped, wondering how long he could restrain himself from releasing Buffy from this spell. “Did you know that I know everything there is to know about you William Chesterfield Masterson?” she whispered as she slid his pants over his hips.

Spike froze. No one had spoken his name since he died.

“After you…(her voice caught in her throat)….after I…lost you, the ache was unbearable. No one understood. No one. The others told me to move on, find another life and I tried….I’m sorry, Spike …..but I did try….but… you would never leave me alone. You were always there. Everywhere. Silent. Watching. Never judging with only love in your eyes.” She raised her eyes to meet his and said, “At least, like this, we can be together.”

He was completely undone. He crushed his lips to hers as they twined arms around one another and fell to the bed. One kiss followed another as their hands stroked over familiar territory seeking those places that gave such pleasure in the past. Spike ran his hands up her sides, his thumbs teasing her nipples and slipped her nightgown over her head and moved to position himself over her when he realized his pant legs were still stuck at his boots….he roared, “Bloody hell…why do I wear these bloody boots?”

The sound shattered the sanctity of the moment as Buffy laughed and Spike tried to stifle a laugh as he untied the offending footwear and flung them across the room. He turned to her again and their eyes met. “No more talk,” he said. There would be time for talking later.

As they kissed his hand slipped to her breast. He squeezed tenderly and then moved his mouth to the hard little nipple. He took it in his mouth and swirled his tongue over it as Buffy moaned in pleasure. His hand slid down her leg and between her legs. She was so moist…so bloody hot….so swollen….so aroused and Spike never stopped telling her so. Buffy cried out as his fingers stroked the length of her opening in the sweet slippery essence and met her clit that was as hard as he was. She raised her hips to his touch, but he denied her and continued the slow torment with his hands, his tongue and his words. She wanted him so badly she grabbed his long, hard, thick cock with hunger and brutality. The skin felt like velvet under her hand as she pumped in a swirling movement up and down his length. Her clasp was just tight enough to make him groan as her hand slid up and down over the now weeping head.

Buffy whispered, “No more teasing,” and turned to Spike to take his face in her hands. She kissed him tenderly and pulled away only long enough to run her tongue over his lips and then resume with a deeper kiss as her tongue sought his. Her fingertips scrolled down his cheeks as she slipped her finger between his lips. His throat rumbled in a deep feral growl. She smiled around the kiss and in hushed tones said fervently, “I … love … you,” as her fingers continued their journey down his neck to his chest where they passed over hard nipples to his waist.

“Buffy….this really is just a dream, isn’t it?” He whispered into her hair as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her flush against him and turned her head to lead her into another passionate kiss. His cock slid between her slick thighs and she squirmed to press her favorite spot against his favorite spot. She set the rhythm and he followed her lead. Slow and sweet and completely maddening. He needed release and if she kept up these ministrations, he’d finish first…and he wasn’t even inside her yet…. When he could take no more, he rolled her on to her back and poised himself above her. His prick was throbbing with urgency. He wanted more than anything to be gentle, but he could wait no longer. With his arms and legs quivering with need he pushed himself into her wet, hot folds as she raised to meet him.

He stopped, “Fuck!” Buffy raised her legs to wrap them around him and pulled him in deeper. Spike begged, “Oh god, Buffy, please….I’m gonna….agh, DON’T move…Bloody Christ, just for a second…please, don’t move.”

She felt the delirious pleasure of him filling her…pushing his hardness against her womb, his coarse curly hair brushing against her clit, his balls tight against her bum. She knew he was fighting to keep control and she thrilled at her effect on him…it only brought her closer. He began to thrust again. He filled her so completely that each forward thrust rubbed her clit even more and she cried out in pleasure.

No longer slow and sweet but frantic and pounding as both craved climax.

Buffy got there first crying out in squeals and mews of pleasure as she felt the indescribable thrill begin somewhere deep inside and spread down her legs as her orgasm began. The rhythmic throbs inside her massaged Spike’s own vibration and he paused as she rode out her climax. The contractions were so intense; she fleetingly lost control of her limbs. As they lessened in strength she writhed against him to keep it going for as long as she could. Two more strokes and he spilled himself into her as he growled his release. He relaxed on top of her and buried his face in her neck planting kisses everywhere tasting her sweet saltiness. She returned the kisses and stroked his back, her hot hands pleasuring wherever she touched.

As he rolled off of her she curled into his side and cloaked her leg over him resting her hand on his belly. He wrapped his arm around her drawing her closer yet and his hand alternated between stroking the swell of her breast and running his fingers through her wiry hairs. Her knee rested against his wet still half-hard cock. She kept moving in a slow rhythm soothing them both as they came down from their glorious ride.

“You are always with me Spike,” Buffy said, “in my heart…in my imagination, you’ve always been with me….we will be together for real one day, I know it…..I tried to explain it to Giles….you know?…why I’m content now?….to wait? He doesn’t understand.”

Spike listened as she went on explaining how much she loved him and had finally forgiven herself for not telling him until it was too late and her plan to go on the best she could without him until it was time for them to be together again. He was so filled with happiness he was sure he could feel his heart beat, but he couldn’t let her go on thinking she was dreaming. He pulled away from her to get out of bed. Buffy held him close, “Where do you think you’re going?

“I have to leave, pet. It’ll soon be morning,” he replied.

“No, Spike, please don’t go. Let me fall asleep in your arms. Please don’t end this perfect night.”

“If I stay you’ll wake with a big pile of dust, luv….that’s an Eastern window.”

“No! See! It’s an old fashioned World War II blackout shade…., during the war they had to keep all the lights out or use….”

He laughed as he interrupted her, “I know what a blackout shade is luv, ….was there at the time, remember?…

She scrunched her face at him and pulled the shade down. “There!” She came back to bed obviously intent on not going to sleep and said, “So much fuss from my dream man, but anything to keep you happy and keep you here. You know we always fall asleep together in my dreams.” She crawled into the bed and pushed him onto his back and straddled him. He was already hard but she didn’t let him inside. Two can tease. Instead she rubbed herself against him, his little vixen, grinning as her breasts dangled in his face. His hands rested on her hips, his thumbs stroking down her belly to between her legs as his tongue reached to lap at her nipples…even more erotic as they drew into hard little points that were easier to reach and suck.

Buffy dropped down and devoured his mouth with her own. Spike grasped her hips firmly and lifted her enough to let her know that it was time to get down to business. She raised herself higher on her knees, never breaking the kiss. With Buffy raised, his cock sprang up and with a wiggle here and a wiggle there, Not-So-Little Spike found his way home. The moment he filled her stunned them both into stillness. Awesome. It just felt so right. They were connected; completely, utterly bound to one another…and again they began another slow ride to oblivion.

Their bodies were soaked in sweat. She came first and then he flipped her over to finish on top. They reveled in each other’s secretions, laughing, sliding, and talking about it being time for a shower. She snuggled against him again as before and again told him how much she loved him, needed him, wanted only to be with him.

Spike was serious now. “Buffy…” he began…”you have to know that this is real, luv. It is not a dream…. I’m real, pet…I’m really here.” As he spoke, he felt her breathing become more regular and realized that as he talked she was drifting to sleep. He suspected that she was having talks with him for some time now just as he had been having talks with her… in dreams. The shower could wait until morning. He kissed her forehead and whispered, "I love you,” and settled into a peaceful slumber too.

~~~





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