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Somehow, they’d managed to make it up the stairs joined in a passionate embrace, as they fumbled with clothes and those pesky stair steps. Spike led her into what appeared to be the guest bedroom, and within moments, they were both sitting on the edge of the bed, fumbling with zippers, buttons, and belt loops.

“God,” she breathed, as he raised her shirt over her head and began to work with the clasps of her bra, all the while sucking hungrily upon the warm flesh of her neck, leaving what Buffy knew would be a hickey. Oh well, she wasn’t seventeen anymore. She didn’t have anything to hide. Nothing in the world. Not anymore.

Her hands ran up and down his back, under his shirt, caressing his taut muscles, making him moan and harden further. She could feel him straining against his jeans, straining for her, and she reached down, unzipping his fly and reaching in, taking him into her hand.

He gasped at the sudden warmth of her hand, the skillful movements of her long, slender, trembling fingers, and he pressed his lips against hers, suppressing his moans of pleasure and then hers, as he freed her from her bra and cupped a rounded breast in one hand, kneading it, gently rolling her sensitive nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He lay her back upon the mattress, crawling over her.

“Spike,” she shuddered, stroking him a bit faster now, as his hands clawed at her pants, bringing them down, as he expertly deepened their kiss. He felt as if he could drown in her, keep kissing her forever, but he broke the kiss, remembering she required oxygen.

He moved his lips back to her pulse and then to her collarbone, then he took a nipple between his teeth, softly biting it and then suckling it, circling it with his cool, rough tongue.

Buffy arched her back, as she managed to wriggle out of her panties and kick her pants to the floor. She helped Spike out of the rest of his clothes, awkwardly pushing him back a moment so he could maneuver out of them. Then he was on her again, his mouth on hers, his tongue dancing with hers. His hands were buried in her golden hair, as she continued to stroke him, bringing him dangerously close to the edge.

“Luv, you keep doing that, and…oh…” He felt himself starting to lose control, and she got the hint, letting go of him, bringing her hands to his face, bringing their kiss deeper if it was even possible.

She could feel him hard and throbbing against her thighs, as her own body reacted in kind. He could feel how wet and ready she was, but he wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to hurt her. He’d been with his share of women in his time, but never with one who was protecting another life inside of her. What if he hurt the baby?

“Am I hurting you? Am I hurting…”

“No,” she whispered. “We’re fine. Please, Spike. Please don’t stop.” Those words coming from her kiss-swollen, pink lips were enough to convince him she was his for the taking. He’d just have to be a little careful. Little more gentle this time around, mate.

He gently placed his hands behind her knees, bringing her legs around his waist. She adjusted with him, locking her ankles together and gently pushing him into her. She bit her lower lip, closing her eyes as he started to slide into her.

“Oh God. Mmmm…” Her head thrashed back and forth on the bed, and her hair flew about like tendrils of golden sunlight, the only kind he could touch without the fear of impending death. Though he wasn’t so certain now, as he filled her completely, and she surrounded him. He felt as if he might die in that very moment, and he wouldn’t have a care in the world.

“So warm,” he breathed. “So beautiful.” He stared down at his slayer, drinking in the beauty of the moment. So long he’d waited for this. So long he’d wanted to be with her again. Things had changed so much between them over the years, and now, for once, he could be with her and really make love with her. It wasn’t about power this time. It wasn’t about sex just to feel alive. No, it was so much more. It was about establishing a new bond. A new life between them, literally and figuratively. It was a starting over. No more dying. No more leaving. This was it. It scared the hell out of him. Her too. But it was right. It felt so right.

“Spike!” she cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders as he picked up the pace. He was careful with her, alert for the first sounds of discomfort, but so far, only the cries of pleasure escaped her sweet lips. He closed his eyes tightly, the image of her swelling breasts making him lose himself faster. He buried his face in her neck, feeling her breasts against his chest, feeling the sheen of sweat that had formed on her supple flesh now coat him. He could taste her. He could taste the salt of her, and he wanted more. He kissed her lips again, and she could taste what he tasted. Her eyes flew open, and she felt herself drawing closer.

Crying out, she begged him to release her, and he slipped his hand between them, circling her throbbing clit with his thumb. That was exactly what she needed, as she began to contract around him, milking him completely, tearing him away from reality. For one moment, he was in Heaven.

They collapsed together, moments later, and he rolled off of her quickly, not wanting to crush the baby between them. He was on his side, his hand nestled between her thighs, still stroking her down from her high, though it was becoming quite obvious that she wasn’t quite finished yet.

Breathing hard, she gripped the mattresses, and she let him stroke her into another grand finale. And when he took his hand away, she rolled onto her side to look into his eyes. Love, satisfaction, hunger for more. It was all there, reflected from her gaze and into his.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, a sleepy haze clouding his eyes. Buffy gently stroked his cheek as if memorizing every bit of his face. So beautiful. He was beautiful to her.

She yawned, and he drew her into his arms, wanting to feel her next to him, her head on his chest, her hands on his shoulders. He’d missed this. He’d missed the sex, yes, but he’d missed this closeness. A closeness he’d never achieved with anyone before.

“Hold me…hold me until the sun goes down,” she whispered. He kissed the top of her head, and it wasn’t long before he felt her relax in his arms, falling into the first restful sleep she’d had in a long, long time.

***

Angel paced back and forth in his office. She’d been gone a while. Maybe she’d gotten lost? Or worse? No, she was the slayer. She knew where to go. She was on a mission to find Spike, and she would find him. Probably already had. What could they possibly be doing that could take so long?

He sighed, knowing it was obvious but not wanting to believe it. He’d let her go, he knew that. He and Buffy could never have a normal kind of life together, but what could Spike give her that he couldn’t? He just couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of Buffy and Spike. The same Buffy who just a few years ago would have staked Spike without much of a second thought. Somehow, he’d managed to worm his way into her life and stay there like some uninvited squatter.

“Boss? Boss!” Angel turned at the sound of Harmony’s voice. “I’ve been calling you for like five minutes! Are you ok?”

“Fine,” he said, his jaw rigid. “What do you want, Harmony?” His eyes were dark, demanding. She knew not to beat around the bush.

“A guy in Research asked me to give this to you. He said it’s important. And before you ask, no I didn’t read it. It’s still sealed.” She rolled her eyes and reached out her hand. Angel took the envelope from her.

“Thanks.”

“Well, I guess I’ll go back to my desk now…unless you need help with…whatever it is you’re researching?”

“Is my three o’clock coming?”

“Oops!”

“What oops?”

“I kind of forgot to tell them about the meeting.” She saw Angel’s eyes darken, and she backed away. “I’ll get right on that boss! Don’t worry.” She rushed out of sight, and Angel turned his gaze back to the envelope. Opening it up, he found a document sent up from Wesley and the team of researchers.

He began to mutter some to himself as he read. “Prophecy…baby is born, Slayer dies. All slayers lose powers…except Faith.” That last bit he knew. He wasn’t sure what pissed him off more about the prophecy. The fact that it said Buffy would die, or the fact that it knew about the potential slayers becoming slayers themselves. Why couldn’t they have known that before it became a last resort for Willow to work her powers?

There wasn’t much more that he didn’t already know.

“Thanks for the great research, guys,” he quipped sarcastically. “Real big help.”

He looked back at the page, and the next line made his blood run colder than ever before.

The only way to stop the events that will come to pass is to destroy, before the child’s first breath is taken, the child or his mother.





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