The next several days Buffy and Spike spent the daylight hours apart; her in the hallowed halls of Sunnydale High, him encased in marble and death, fast asleep inside his crypt. At night, their time was apportioned between patrolling and the pleasures of the flesh. Each time they shared their bodies and blood, their claim strengthened. They were kindred. They’re bond was now the absolute embodiment of mates.
Their connection was not only on a personal level, but ‘professional’ as well. As they patrolled, their minds were linked. Even though they could not hear what the other was thinking per se, but due to their entire beings connected, through feelings and thoughts, each knew the plan of attack without a spoken word. As Buffy and Spike fought against the influx of minions, courtesy of Angelus and Drusilla, their bodies moved in perfect sync. Elimination of fledglings/minions was quick and precise.
After a relatively slow night during patrol, Buffy’s mind dwelled upon a question that had been weighing on her mind for the past week, more so in the past few days. As they patrolled the quiet cemetery, Spike sensed her apprehension and spoke first.
“Spill.”
“Huh?”
“Gratefully I don’t need to breathe, since I’m drownin’ over here under the waves of your feelings pet. So spill,” Spike demanded as he stopped his movements through the sacred grounds. Buffy mirrored his actions. As they stood several feet away from one another, she was unable to meet his gaze, as her focus moved to the frozen earth below her feet.
“Spike, I was wondering, more I was thinking…..do you think…..” Buffy stammered.
“Yeah,” Spike interrupted.
“Yeah?” Buffy questioned.
“Yeah, I do think,” Spike responded with a snarky jest.
“Spike, that’s not what I meant. I mean I know you think. It’s more on the lines of how you think about….stuff.” Buffy’s eyes remained down cast, as she continued to shuffle her boots across ice-covered blades of grass.
“Maybe I’m little slow on the uptake, but I am sure as ‘ell can’t follow you around that bend.” Spike stepped forward and placed the pads of his fingertips under her chin. As he tilted her head toward his, his cerulean gaze fixed upon hers.
“Now sweetheart, tell me what’s plaguin’ your cute littl’ noggin.” Spike could use his bond to enter her mind, but he felt that what she needed to say had to come from her own lips. As his gaze burned deep within her soul, Buffy found the courage to speak.
“Spike, would you….um… like to be my guest at Thanksgiving Dinner?” Buffy inquired, as her eyes remained wide with hope.
As he braced himself for the worst, eyes focused and lips set, his mind was completely blown by what she had just asked him. This was not what he intended to hear. Instantly, a tender smile formed upon his full lips, as he saw her face. His heart melted as he regarded her. His mate. His Buffy. Despite all that transpired between them, she was still hesitant about something as simple as dinner.
“Buffy, it would be my honor to accompany you to dinner.” Upon his declaration, Spike placed a passionate kiss upon her bee-stung lips. As the lovers melted within one another’s arms, off, in the distance, another witnessed their sweet exchange.
Angelus stood in the shadows of a crypt as he watched their interaction. Rage seethed through his veins as he held back his temptation to rush forward, tear him to shreds and take what was his. The only reason why he held his ground was days before Drusilla had presented him a riddle, which he still had yet to solve. He knew that once he decoded her rant, those that stood before him and all the others would pay. Pay with their blood and deaths.
With a mental scoff, Angelus considered his wayward childe. The only benefit for having him accompany them throughout Europe was his talent to decipher Drusilla’s visions and insane conundrums. He also kept her occupied when Angelus was bored with pleasing her with his cock, fist or fangs. In those years, he was a distraction for his insane childe. Even though he was a massive irritation, he was granted countless reprieves due to his ability to handle Drusilla. Now, he was an obstruction. Just a trivial bone and flesh barrier which Angelus would destroy to receive his prize…..her.
As Drusilla’s incoherent, yet insightful, riddle looped continuously in his mind, Angelus continued to observe them intently. As he witnessed their hands and mouths explore one another, Angelus stormed away. Soon. Soon she would be his. Even though thoughts of his wayward childe taking liberties that were not his to partake in filled him with fury, Angelus knew his rage needed to be harnessed. With the memories of his childe with her and Drusilla’s rant pervading Angelus’ mind entirely, he needed a violent kill to purge his torrid mind.
Before long, Angelus’ fangs were deeply embedded in the pristine throat of a young woman, with flaxen hair and a petite frame. Her fear and virginity were a heady mixture that caused his cock to swell and press against his butter soft leather pants. Deep pulls of her blood began to dredge through all the clutter in his mind. As the woman’s heart started to falter, his thoughts then became crystal clear. As her depleted form fell to the hardened ground, the answer finally began to materialize.
Before he was trying to look at this logically, this was entirely the wrong approach. One cannot create logic when none exists. Drusilla spoke in symbolisms not literal facts. This was why Spike could understand her so. He was a poet, or tried to be. Poets write using labyrinths of words and metaphors. Never forth right. Suddenly, the pieces of her puzzle started to fall in place. As his mind translated each word, a diabolical smile began to grace his lips.
Angelus stepped carelessly over the woman’s body as he exited the alleyway. With a renewed sense of purpose and destination, his once forgotten depraved thoughts became fixed again. Fixated upon his prize, her.
*******
The next week passed by uneventfully. Spike became slightly on the edge, since Angelus and Drusilla had been lying low for so long. He knew that they were just biding their time. Like an alligator that remained still in the murky river waters, they just waited for the opportune time to strike fatally. Buffy and her Watcher agreed with Spike’s declarations, but without the firm direction to head, they decided to remain on the defensive not the offensive with Spike strongly felt they should be.
Wednesday night Buffy had foregone patrol, so she could help her mother with preparations for Thanksgiving dinner. As she measured and stirred the makings for a pumpkin pie, Buffy addressed her mom as her gaze held the mixture..
“Mom, I was wondering……well, I’ve been seeing someone, someone very important to me. I was wondering if it was all right, if he could spend dinner with us? He doesn’t have any family around, ummm, since he’s originally from England. So could he?” Buffy's words blurted forward, as her eyes left the bowl and studied her mother’s reaction. After several beats, Joyce spoke.
“If he’s so important to you, why haven’t I heard of him before?”
“Well, he’s older than me, and I thought you would be really mad. So I didn’t want to bring him around until I was sure that we were truly a couple.”
“How much older, Buffy?”
“He’s twenty-two. Please don’t freak, mom. He’s so wonderful. He’s not overbearing and he understands me, the real me. Mom, he’s really special to me. Please don’t give him the third degree when he comes, ok?” Buffy asked as her gaze filled with a shimmer of tears.
The tears that brimmed in her eyes were an example of how easily lies seem to form and pour from her lips; since becoming the Slayer. In addition to her honing her fighting and survival skills, Buffy had mastered the art of lying. Lies about blood stained and/or missing clothes, failing grades and the truth about all things that go ‘bump’ in the night. The biggest lie, which she truly was, The Slayer. All these lies were vital to her calling and existence, since she had already spent time among four padded walls for disclosing the truth.
“Fine, he can come. I have to go to the gallery in the morning, so we won’t be eating until five-ish. Just understand, I don’t exactly approve of being ambushed with a much older boyfriend the night before Thanksgiving young lady. In the future, no more secrets, is this understood?” Joyce stated firmly.
“I promise mom, no future secrets,” Buffy avowed. In her mind she added, past secrets are still safe to keep.
Later that night, after the whispers and stifled expressions of blissful ecstasy, the lovers lay entwined in the sanctity of Buffy’s bed. Spike tenderly stroked her crown of golden tresses, her head pillowed upon his muscular chest. The comfortable silence encased them, as they both basked in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Soon the silence was broken by thoughts of all her loved ones and those that she cared about, which railroaded through Buffy’s mind.
“Mom…Spike….Giles…Willow….Xander….How am I going to protect them? How am I going to defeat Angelus and Drusilla? Will I survive? Will…..”
Within an instant, Buffy’s form was below Spike’s; his cerulean gaze bore into hers. His deep baritone voice filled her mind as he placed a gentle lap upon the twin marks marring her throat.
“Shhh, sweetheart. Don’t think, just feel.”
Instantly, a moan spilled from her parted lips, her back bowed. The rosy tips of her sensitive, peaked nipples pressed into the planes of his alabaster chest.
All coherent thought floated away as his talented mouth, hands and voice filled her completely. As Spike continued to bestow tender and passionate pleasure upon her body and mind, Buffy’s hands grasped at his form seeking more. Always more. Even when he was deep inside her womb and throat, it was never enough. He was never close enough. She needed his essence to survive.
As blinding bliss enwrapped her mind, words formed in her hazy brain. Before Buffy was able to sensor herself, a monumental declaration heralded from her parted lips.
“I love you, Spike.”
Spike’s movements stilled upon her breast, as his heated gaze roamed over features as he searched for her eyes. Upon this encounter, he noticed that her eyes were as large as saucers. Buffy’s mouth was agape as a land bound fish, as he could sense that she searched for the words that could erase and/or explain her declaration. Due to her minds and mouths silence, not a one could be found.
Unable to erase the moment with words, Buffy’s form squirmed as she tried to remove herself from beneath his body. In a flash, Spike had gathered her wrists in one hand as his heated stare bore into her face. His voice stilled her movements as he addressed her.
“What did you just say?”
Incapable of holding his gaze, Buffy turned her face away from his. With his free hand, Spike placed his palm under her chin and brought her face back into his full line of vision.
“What…what did you think I said?” Buffy whispered hesitantly.
“Don’t play games Buffy, tell me what you said!” Spike growled as his demon spilled forward momentarily then retreated. In kind, Buffy’s eyes became golden and her fangs elongated. Her demon façade held as she spoke.
“I told you….I told you that I love you, you ass!” Buffy growled as she pushed his form from hers. Spike’s body was heaved from the mattress, as he now lay stunned and naked upon her bedroom floor. Buffy stood above him, her chest heaved as she stood in the middle of the room.
Lightning-quick, Spike stood before her in full game face. His demon clawed at his mind to control her, make her heed. In his mind, conflict arose, as the man demanded gentleness. Spike placed his hand tenderly upon her cheek. Instantly, soft purrs flowed from her chest as she leaned into his touch. Before Spike spoke, his demon receded.
“I love you, Buffy, with all that I am and all that I could ever be. My entire undead life, I thought I knew and understood my purpose for becoming a vampire. That was until I encountered you. All that was before were mere shadows to the light that now fills my world. Never before have I experienced devotion to another that can be filled with only pleasure, not pain. Despite all one’s shortcomings and downfalls, there can be someone that will behold you as perfect. You are my destiny,” Spike’s words wrapped around her rapidly beating heart and squeezed.
Tears welled, as she lovingly gazed upon the majestic man before her. His exquisite marmoreal flesh was bathed in the moonlight as the ebony pupils of his eyes swallowed the fair irises until only a small sliver of blue remained. Within moments, his arms and chest engulfed Buffy as her head rested upon his chest. Spike placed a tender chaste kiss upon her crown as her tears streaked down his flesh.
“Shhh….don’t cry kitten.” With those words, Spike swept her legs from under her and carried her to her bed. Gently, he placed her upon the cooling sheets as he momentarily stood above her, talented hand slowly stroking her inner thigh.
“Beautiful.” Flowed through Buffy’s mind as she revered her mate above her.
“I think I’m more of a handsome bloke, but I’ll take it as a complement,” Spike purred as a lascivious grin graced his full lips.
Buffy outstretched her arms, as she welcomed her mate to her form. Spike moved slowly, but surely, as his flesh met hers. Momentarily, his chest hovered above hers as he held her gaze. Within one fluid motion, he was seated fully inside her welcoming core.
As her limbs held him close, their hips slowly moved together. Each sought comfort and passion that only the other could provide. Fluid as the currents in a summer stream, their declarations of love and their bodies moved as one as they sought ecstasy.
On the precipice of her climax, Buffy slid her fangs into the column of his pale neck. Despite his attempts to starve off his orgasm, once her fangs penetrated his throat, nothing could hold back the roar of his completion. Instantly, Spike’s demon burst forward, as his serrated fangs entered his marks.
The tempo of his hips started to slow, as they continued to sip from the chalice of their lover’s throat. Each mind was filled with their beloved’s declarations of love. After several moments of basking in sheer bliss, both pulled their fangs from one another, their raspy tongues bestowed attention upon the small weeping wounds. Begrudgingly, Spike then pulled from her heated depths as he rolled to the side, simultaneously bringing her pliant form to drape across his body.
Within moments, Buffy fell into a peaceful sleep as she held her mate’s body close to hers. As he listened to the tattoo of her slow and even breaths, Spike soon followed.
*****
The following evening at 5 p.m. exactly, the doorbell chimed announcing Spike’s arrival. Despite her inhuman strength and speed, Joyce beat her to the door within several strides. Buffy stood behind her mother, the now opened door revealing her mate.
Upon the threshold stood Spike or a mother friendly version of thereof. His typically slicked back bleached locks, were slightly mussed in fashionable disarray. His characteristic black on black was traded for a Spike’s version of Gap. Khaki pants donned his athletic legs. Tucked into the waistband was his classic black tee shirt, but surrounding the ebony fabric was an azure button down shirt, which brought out the starkness of his alabaster skin and his mesmerizing, boundless Caribbean ocean gaze. A waist length soft brown leather coat completed the outfit.
A soothing, almost shy smile graced his full lips as he held out a small bouquet of daisies. Both women were speechless, staring at the breathtaking man who stood upon their porch. Only his rich baritone broke through their unmoving stares.
“Good evening ladies. This is a small token to you Mrs. Summers for allowing me to enter your lovely home and share the holiday with you both.”
Joyce blinked quickly, trying to figure out the man that stood before her. Quickly, she removed the flowers from his grasp. Still stone silent, Buffy rushed forward and placed her arm into the crux of his elbow. Buffy urged Spike to enter, placing a soft tender kiss upon his cheek. Several beats later, she spoke.
“Mom, this is S….” Buffy’s words were cut off as he held his hand out to Joyce’s.
“A pleasure to meet you Mrs. Summers. My name is William, William Pratt.” As he placed his hand into hers, Joyce’s gaze faltered as a sweet smile donned her lips.
“It is all my pleasure to finally meet you William. I unfortunately only heard of you yesterday, but no doubt my curiosity has been piqued since,” Joyce stated, her gaze struck upon Buffy briefly as she spoke.
“Well, I have to say that it was my fault. I assure you, Buffy wanted to tell you earlier about me, I just didn’t know how my age would be received. I’m glad that it’s not an issue,” Spike stated, as his typical cockney accent was gone, replaced by a formal cultured English accent.
Buffy stared at her mate, as she was filled with a renewed desire. Spike could feel the waves of her arousal, splash upon his flesh and attempt to pull him under. He held firm, not to give into his desire, as he continued to speak to Joyce.
“I wouldn’t exactly say it’s not an issue William. You are far too old for a sixteen years old girl. My question is, why would a clearly educated young man want with a girl?” Joyce asked as her arms snaked upon her chest. Clearly, a learned Summers’ posture that Buffy had mentored and utilized many times before.
“Mom!” Buffy yelped as her wide eyes beheld her clearly angered mom.
“Mrs. Summers, I assure you, my motives are pure. Buffy is wise beyond her years, and I clearly follow her lead in this relationship.”
Buffy held a slight chuckle as the memories of their relationship flashed in her mind, the first night in the warehouse, the lawn, her bedroom. She was definitely in the lead there.
Spike gently pulled from her grasp, as he was also bombarded with her memories. As Joyce continued to study her daughter’s boyfriend, her resolve started quickly to melt upon his next statement.
“Mrs. Summers, if you feel that I am not worthy of your daughter’s affections, then I will leave your home immediately. I’m sorry for my intrusion,” With a slight nod of his head, Spike turned to leave the doorway. Buffy’s eyes widened at this, before she could speak, Joyce’s voice rang out.
“William, please. Please, come and join us for dinner. I may not approve of the substantial age difference between you and my daughter, but that is an issue that cannot be changed. I admire your honesty and respect,” Joyce stated as she motioned toward the dining room.
Spike smiled again as he walked slowly toward the dining table. Joyce followed, leaving a slightly lust-riddled, slightly confused Buffy in their wake.
The rest of the dinner passed with no further issues. In fact, Buffy watched with fondness at how well and how much Spike and his mother enjoyed one another’s company. They discussed art throughout the decades, and each artist. Spike spoke about his home in England, but put a modern spin upon his tales.
Throughout the dinner, Spike’s thigh would randomly meet Buffy’s under the table. Despite the mild and cheerful conversations that transpired between him and her mother, lascivious and erotic visions filled her head, sent courtesy of Spike’s mind.
At one point, after dinner was finished, but dessert was yet to be presented, Spike sent a deviously nasty flash to her.
Buffy was splayed across the dining room table, completely bare except for small dollops of whipped cream strategically placed upon her form. Spike stood before her, his full, proud erection jutting from his muscular body. In a flash, with a wicked flick of his talented tongue, he was feasting upon amass of dairy that lay upon her core.
Buffy extracted her thigh from his, with a sudden jerk that caused flatware and china to rock upon the table. Quick rambles fell from her mouth as she tried to excuse herself from the table, pushing her shaking form from her chair.
“Pie! I so want pie! Mom, pie? I’m going to get the pie. Yeah, and some whipped cream. That sounds good, pie with whipped cream. So I’m going….going to get the pie….” With that, Buffy fled from the room, two confused people in her wake.
“I think she wants pie,” Spike jested as he stuffed down the chuckle that lingered in his throat. With a slight nod and shoulder shrug, Joyce agreed.
Once Buffy could calm her raging lust, she returned to the table with pie, no whipped cream. She couldn’t bear bringing this sweet mixture into the dining room without begging Spike to make his vision a reality. After dessert was eaten and the trio worked together to clean the table from dinner, Spike announced his departure.
As the ladies walked him to the front door, a woman upon either arm, each announced how pleasant the evening was. Buffy mentally scolded Spike for being ‘naughty',’ and that he would ‘pay’ later. Spike’s retort was typical, ‘bring it on.’
With a handshake from Joyce, she turned and left the two alone as she headed back into the kitchen. Both knowing that her mother’s ears and eyes were not far behind, Buffy thanked ‘William’ for a wonderful evening, and that she would call him tomorrow.
In her mind, she told Spike to give her two hours with her mom, and then she’d meet her in her room. She also added that he should be prepared for his ‘punishment’. As the ebony of his pupils engulfed the blue, he pulled back his desire as he placed a chaste kiss tenderly upon her cheek. Within moments, Spike was gone.
While tidying the kitchen, the women discussed ‘William’. Buffy was pleased that Joyce was truly smitten with him, and she would like to have him over again. Once the mess was cleared, Buffy announced that she was tired and needed sleep.
With a few moments to spare, Buffy hurried to her room to greet her mate. As she rushed into the darkness of her room, she was greeted by a gorgeously nude man, fully aroused, with a large can of whipped cream in his hand. As he slowly shook the container, a mischievous smile graced her full lips, as she quietly closed and locked her bedroom door.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I hope all had a happy and healthy holidays. My muse had seem to be on an extended Christmas, since she has been alluding me so. Sorry for the long time for an update. I hope all enjoy and hopefully it was worth the wait. Major thanks, as always, to Sanityfair.
Chapter End Notes:
Reviews will help the muse create!!!!!