“So…do you think Spike’s gonna be okay? ‘Cause, you know, dying Spike not really that helpful with the ridding the Hellmouth of demon activity. Also, not much of the usefulness with the Glory sitch.” Xander threw in a nervous laugh to cover up his mounting concern and then grimaced as all eyes turned to him in surprise.
“Xander, I didn’t know you cared!” Dawn sat beside Joyce, holding her hand in the hope of giving as well as receiving comfort. Her eyes glistened in merriment at the hidden depth of feeling for the vampire that Xander was reluctantly allowing to be exposed. First his hints about efforts to have Angel find the peroxided vamp, and now with the worried voice. She thought it was cute, and wondered if she wouldn’t be too fickle by transferring her teenage crush from Spike, back to Xander. Buffy was gonna take Spike for herself, anyway.
Xander had ducked his head a little in embarrassment, but determined to not go back to undervaluing a member of the group; and loathe to admit it as he was, Spike was in. A member. A bonafide Scooby. He felt a little nauseous.
“Can’t deny the guy is rather handy at swindling unknowing coeds at pool.” He smiled wryly and turned back to study Anya’s nails as he held her hand.
She gave him one of her confusing spacey smiles and went back to observing the hotel. She seemed fiscally devoted to the surroundings and turned to stage whisper to Xander.
“I wonder how much they charge per room?”
Xander gave his girlfriend an admiring glance before patting her knee and loudly whispering back, amused that she didn’t catch his little teasing.
“I don’t think they take in paying guests, Ahn.”
“Oh.” She frowned, disappointed at not getting the heads up on a potential business enterprise. Then she slumped back in the sofa and sighed her tiredness.
They all looked up as Angel casually made his way down the stairs. He stopped in front of them, looking at the group with a degree of confusion before recognition lit a spark in his eyes.
“Oh! Sorry. Got caught up in the Spike situation and forgot you were all here. So, what’s this Glory situation that Buffy was talking about?”
Giles began to stand, hoping to question the darker vampire about Spike’s condition, but was waylaid by the determined change in topic. Resigned for the moment, he started to relay their current dilemma and finished with a round of possible scenarios of how to improve their chances of survival.
“So, in other words, you have no idea how to take on Glory and win?” Angel’s lips turned up at the edges in a smirk worthy of Spike approval.
Giles’s shoulders slumped in grudging agreement and he cast a concerned glance to both Dawn and Joyce, noticing as their clasped hands tightened and turned white at the knuckles.
Dread seemed to thicken the air and Angel’s smirk slipped as he became confused, wondering at his brief moments of darkness and lack of caring about their plight. But one look at Dawn her large blue eyes called something familiar to him and he blinked in surprise. He stood suddenly and made his way to her, taking her hand and pulling her away from the others, away from their overpowering scent and strength.
The blue in those ovals that took him in searched him for meaning and held him still in understanding and recognition. He almost fell over in shock, his eyes peaking at width as he struggled to take it all in, traces of her scent along with the exact shade of her eyes. Little familiarities that took him hostage to his baser impulses…gave him ownership in a way the monks had clearly imagined might be needed to keep her safe, should family become involved. She was his, in a watered down connection.
Of course, she was Buffy’s sister made wholly of her but so different that he questioned. Her eyes, the exact shade of the one he had left fading upstairs; Dawn’s scent blended, not all together Buffy but shades of another, enough tainting of Spike to know that he would do whatever it took to protect the one his Childe had rambled about during his less coherent moments. He knew then that Spike had never recognised it, never knew that she was a part of him. Yet a small part of him had known enough and that was why he had adopted her as his Nibblet: to look after and befriend as he saw fit. He was to be her knight, her champion, just as the elder vamp was now beholden to do.
Giving nothing of his thoughts away, he turned from her and passively led her back to her seat before taking a breath and facing the Watcher.
“I know of a demon who might be able to help.”
He offered nothing further and Giles slipped forward in his seat, balanced precariously on the edge of reason while waiting futilely for a continuation to their verbal rescue.
“Well, come on then. Don’t leave us in bloody suspense.” His patience had worn out. He had stood wary of the souled vampire since the moment they had walked into the building, sensing something a little off with him but not enough to cause them to run.
To be wholly truthful, he took comfort in the fact that Angel had ensconced Spike within the walls of the hotel and appeared to be in the mind to help heal and care for him. It had him suspended in confused disparity, one that was changing by the day. Thoughts of Spike no longer had him reaching for a stake and a plan on how to most proficiently embed it in the irritant’s chest. No, he could see the possibility of wanting to help by the brief explanation they had received earlier about his diminished condition, and he just hoped for all their sakesbut most importantly Spike’s own and Buffy’sthat the arrival of the Slayer would help that process and not hinder it.
He startled back to attention at Angel’s burst of one word.
“Caritas.”
“What’s that?” He asked Angel merely because he felt exhausted, not up to the games and cryptic form of speech that the former so often adopted. A quick look around him confirmed that everyone was surprised by this offered solution and he hadn’t merely missed the explanation through his silent contemplation of Spike.
“It’s a club.”
Angel’s voice stopped the flow again and Giles felt his temper begin to rush out of his mouth with a burst of vitriol he attributed to lack of sleep and ongoing concern for all their lives.
“What does a bloody club have that can help us? Good God man, we are beyond parties and drinks at this stage of the game. If you have nothing of worth to contribute, then go and help Buffy so that Spike can come with us and we’ll be on our way.”
Joyce reached over and laid a gentle hand on his arm and he wondered at the weakness that caused her hand to tremble. Her fear obviously was taking control of her normal calm, but also illness had taken its toll and he was worried for her. Desperation had begun to settle heavily on his shoulders and he felt like whipping them all out of there and back into the vehicles to resume their flight from Sunnydale.
One look at Angel revealed a look of calm and patience that had always been the thing to convince them he was worthy of trust, and Giles felt the burning simmer of rage bank slightly and he clawed at calm. Covering his eyes wearily with one hand, he waved the other to Angel and quietly asked him to explain.
“There is a demon there. Lorne. He listens to people sing, reads their soul their psyche and can tell you what you need to do. He helped me with D…well, something recently, though it was too late for…anyway, if Dawn sings for him, maybe he can offer some suggestions.” He shrugged his shoulders in an appearance of nonchalance, but underneath his muscles were coiled tight with purpose.
Memory of his failure at first appeared overwhelming, but he wouldn’t let it take over again, wouldn’t let himself feel hopeless. He had a chance here to make a difference to do the right thing. He might not have been able to protect Darla, but he would make sure that both Spike and Dawn were safe and on the road to preservation.
When he finally looked up, he was amused to watch the range of expressions that faced him. Willow looked at him in stark horror, leaning over to pat Dawn’s hand in commiseration for having to sing, while Giles seemed to preen. He noticed that Joyce seemed a little different to usual; a little fatigued and pale and he wondered something was wrong.
“Well, until then you all look rather exhausted. We can’t do anything now until nightfall anyway, so how about I show you to some rooms and we can all get some sleep?”
Tired, mumbled consent reached his ears and he nodded before leading the group up the stairs and to a number of empty rooms with beds sparsely made up but otherwise comfortable. Leaving them to their thoughts and concerns he moved on to stand outside another room, listening carefully for whatever clues might seep through the crack of the door. He could discern the low rumbling of Spike’s voice, stronger than he had heard it for the past few days, and he sighed with a smile on his face, relief weakening his knees for short seconds before he happily took himself further along to his own room.
Lying alert for the next hour, Angel didn’t relax enough to sleep until his extrasensory abilities could detect no further disturbances all quiet for the day and he fell gratefully into a coma-like slumber.
The room rested in almost complete darkness, interrupted singularly by a dimly lit lamp beside the bedhead. It bathed the couple reclining in each other’s arms on the bed in a gentle glow of romance. As the hotel settled around them in silence they peered compulsively into each other’s eyes, sending messages of comfort and devotion new to both but eagerly claimed and owned. Hands stroked bared skin, fiddled absently with buttons and fabric, urgency gone as they just contemplated each other. Learned each other. Became intimate in a way that neither had ever imagined.
It terrified.
As Spike healed, they lay quietly engaging the other in gentle love play that served to both awaken desire but heal old wounds and mend old hearts broken. Stroking flesh led to the holding of hands and they became still once again, stretched out atop the covers, still fully dressed and staring heatedly into the other’s eyes.
Buffy had felt her whole body flush hot about two hours earlier and was still waiting for her temperature to recede. As long as she remained lost in the oceanic depths of Spike’s sexy blue eyes, she gave up on it ever happening. They shone with a happiness that she felt sad to have never witnessed before this moment, and she vowed that the sadness that seemed to be completely washed away would never take hold in them ever again.
She searched his face for signs of his recent journey and located his change in the lines around his eyes and mouth. Being tortured for wanting better seemed to have aged him, and the evidence of his family instigating the event left him emotionally mangled.
Her head rested comfortably on his bare shoulder, her hair fanning over his skin like a shimmering blanket of gold. As his gaze slid wonderingly over her face he held his breath waiting…waiting for the other shoe to drop…only it never seemed to fall. The expression in her green eyes was one of want, of having found what she had searched for.
His stomach roiled at the devastation he knew would be his end if this were not for real. There were no more barriers for them to hide behind, everything now lay completely bare before them and he was afraid. They were perched on the precipice of forever and he knew that the time was still too short for him to get all he needed from her. All he wanted, craved, yearned from her. Eternity would be bygones too short.
But it was eternity that shone with promise in her eyes as she tipped her face up to his, quiet still reigning between them as she drifted ever closer and calmly placed her soft lips upon his. He moaned as his eyes shuttered closed and he gave in to the sweet temptation that was her mouth, hot, heady passion conveyed by her sensual touch. Her hand snaked up to twist around his head and her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him to her as she delved and sought reason, knowledge and possession. Her body twisted as she sought a closer contact between them and he found his bare skin teased with the fabric of her clothing. His hands remained outside as he cupped her chin, losing all coherent thought as he lost himself in her being.
He was swept away on a burgeoning tide of feeling and he felt himself drown again and again, just like he had wanted to tell her before Drusilla arrived in Sunnydale and sapped him of all his courage, giving him another title rather than ‘Loves bitch’. He just knew, somewhere on the brink of his consciousness, that Buffy would probably call him ‘Mr. Cowardly Scaredy Pants.’ And, with her lips glued to his, he was surprisingly fine with that.
After many breathless, scorching minutes, she pulled away and attempted to remember how to breathe. Her skin felt burned, super sensitive to touch and breath, so much that her insides fluttered with every small contact and she was on the brink of explosion every time she took his tongue into her mouth. It was kind of embarrassing really, how close she felt to that end, the little death. It seemed ironic that death was all wound up as her gift, and it always came back to Spike. His wanting to kill her, and now wanting to love her to death. One slurp of her blood and she was on tenterhooks waiting for the moment when she could be truly his; mind and soul seemed to be taken care of but boy, was body feeling neglected.
“I have no idea how I managed to forget you could kiss like that,” she panted lustily at him, her lips curved into an eager smile as she focused again on the curved luscious red of his own, blushing with fresh bloody sustenance in the form of Slayer.
He tilted his head in thought.
“You know, pet. You’ve never mentioned Red’s spell since it happened. Did you get her to do a forgetting spell?”
She looked at him guiltily and her cheeks blushed prettily. He could hear the thunder of blood as her heart began to race.
“Trust you to pick that up. Is there anything you don’t see? It can be a bit invasive ya know!”
His crushed and uncertain look immediately had her complacent and apologetic.
“Joking.” She kissed him hard on the mouth, enticing him back to their newfound lusty land. “I love that you can see the truth behind things. You are so perceptive, and I’m Miss Blind Spot. Really, you are the perfect guy for me.”
She sat back, satisfied with herself, satisfied with what she had in him, and she bestowed another of those veiled promise kind of looks and Spike felt his blood begin to race his body reacting to her smell of ownership as she shuffled across him to straddle his lap. She made no acknowledgement of the hard length poking the inside of her thigh through the thin cotton sheet, other than to close her eyes and contemplate for just a moment.
Buffy leaned forward, her eyes still tightly closed as she pressed her moist lips to the side of his neck, slowly tasting his skin with her tongue. With small licks she found his ear and swirled her tongue within the shell and flushed again at his groan of arousal, smiling as his hands clamped around her hips and pulled her down to grind against his surging desire. She blew against the wetness that encompassed his ear and then sat motionless until he stilled.
Cheek against cheek, she whispered words of endearment to him, making promises of support and life. Pulling back her lips trailed over his face, softly supping from his lips before moving quickly away to kiss his eyelids. Having covered all of his face with gentle, tender caresses she returned to his mouth, sucking his lower lip inside and latching on with her teeth. She nipped at him gently, but even that small action of teeth had him growling hungrily for more.
With obvious reluctance she pulled away, allowing her eyes to drift open again and take in his passionately shattered self. She smiled with power, so very glad that she could do this, that she was able to save him, and that they could now save each other. The oddness of the situation she found herself in, exchanging words of love and erotica with a vampire that had in her past tried to kill her and more recently insult her into incapacity numerous timeswas so far beyond the line of weird she was almost convinced that the dimensions had shifted. But it felt so good to touch him, to feel his arms band around her. She had never felt so sure that she wanted this, wanted more of what he was introducing her to; the passion and devotion. Most of all, she was eager to experience the staying. With the correct incentive she was sure he would be a good stayer.
Her musings drifted into uncharted lands of forever, of coupledom never before fully explored. A relationship reciprocated with love…
But then the mission returned, and she knew that the danger they all faced had to be resolved before anything else between she and Spike could be pursued.
As usual, he knew and accepted the plight.
“So, what do we do for the Nibblet?”
The grin of gratitude she beamed at him was almost breathtaking. She once again rested her head against his shoulder as she attempted to fall back into plan mode. Her eyes rested on the shades over the windows, taking in the soft glow of light that burned around the edges.
“Well,” she mumbled against his naked chest, muscles fluttering against her hot breath and teasingly knowing smile. “The important thing is to get you back to full strength.” She looked at him, waiting for his nod of hesitant confirmation and she lowered her head again. “I think we should probably all get some sleep and then think about what to do tonight. Maybe Angel has some ideas of what we can do.”
Spike raised an incredulous brow.
“Peaches always has ideas, luv. It’s how useful they are that counts.”
She snorted in a distinctly unladylike, but Slayerlike way, and slapped a hand over her mouth, leaving her eyes to smile her humour. But as his lips slammed back into her focus the colour of them reminded her of blood and she knew that he had to get well. She needed him by her side, and Dawn needed him for her life.
Tilting her head to the side, she pulled her hair to curtain behind her away from the exposed creaminess of her throat. His hand settling there and pulling her forward had her pause in disorientation, then his lips swerved away from what she offered.
“No, pet. ‘S not right. A bite on the neck is very erotic, meaningful. We aren’t ready for that yet. I want it to be perfect for you.”
Her eyes shimmered with grateful and love-blushed eyes. She nodded, her anticipation radiating beyond her and flowing into the room. She felt buzzed, wishing that moment could be there already, but knowing it wasn’t the time or the event to be rushed. She wanted it to be perfect, too.
Almost lost in a daze of arousal she offered him again her wrist, the jagged wound only a little mended over. She was so focused on him that she was confused at his frown over the jagged tear, but let it go as his fangs slid through her skin like a scorching hot knife through butter. Her head immediately became encased in cottonwool as she surrendered to the sensation of having a part of him inside her. And then her eyes collided with his and clarity came screaming back to her in an erotic whoosh as everything within her surrendered to his touch.
Caught by his gaze, her body began to twitch and writhe, and without conscious thought she surrendered to moans of want, need. She rubbed her crotch against the length of sheet hardened between her legs and allowed her free hand to roam, to stroke over pale cool skin until she felt on the wrong side of desperate. One final pull of her blood and her nether muscles clenched in exquisite pain and she collapsed against his chest, sweating and shaking in lust, kissing whatever bare skin came in contact with her hungry lips.
Spike felt the warmth of her blood flood through the empty tunnels of his circulatory system and strength goaded every muscle in his body to action. Two iron bands of arms seized her almost violently and pulled her closer to him, pushing her down on his covered cock with frantic purpose. His mouth consumed hers and they moaned and cooed in unison as they took possession of a promise that felt wrong to be delayed. But as the roaring behind his ears dimmed a little he regained his focus and set her away. His lips remained on hers, licking and sucking for all he was worth but stepping down a notch to a more sensual exploration of her secrets.
Her body shuddered again in violent repletion as she rocked herself to another glorious moment of passion, and her forehead settled against his in a mixture of embarrassment and satisfaction, eyes clamped tightly closed. Minutes stretched awkwardly as she refused to look up, but then the gentle caress of his fingers against her face made her breathe deeply in mounting desire and she raised passion hooded eyes to his.
“That was…I mean…wow! I bet biting my neck will be a big disappointment compared to that little episode.” Her saucy teasing pushed him over the edge and he dived on top of her, the convenient sheet falling away and exposing him fully to her view for the fist time. Her breathing stopped. Her heart stopped. Then when it all resumed in a crash of unmanageable lust her hands swept all over, clinging to the experience and losing herself totally to sensation.
But when it came down to it, she was still very much clothed and as hands raised to buttons it calmed the fiery beast enough for them to think, and know that now was not the time. Buffy’s breathing continued raggedly but she allowed Spike to resettle under the sheet then curled into his side, allowing the pose to resume of earlier as she lost herself again in his eyes.
Knowing she had embarked on something new.
Terrified.
Joyce could hear the gentle murmurs of Willow and Tara in the room beside her and smiled gratefully that they all had escaped Sunnydale and that there was no one left behind they need worry about. Dawn had already stretched out on the sole bed equipping the room, and was snoring quietly just like a resilient teenager was apt to do. Again she smiled in relief before letting the expression slip entirely from her face and she grimaced in discomfort.
Since the operation she had been circling a condition of apprehension that she felt she could not share with her girls. She didn’t feel pain exactly, but in that inherent way that a woman knows the goings on in her own body, she knew that something was not quite right. Being dragged all over the countryside to save Dawn, indeed probably to save them all, irritated her. Not that she didn’t want Dawn to live. Not that she didn’t believe Dawn to be wholly hers but the steady thrum of wrong that existed within her caused an impatience with the world that was seeping into her judgement and causing her to care less about the things she ordinarily would have.
Seeing Angel just brought the gloom back into her life, but at least this time round he was here for Spike. She had noticed what the absence of the fake blonde vampire had meant to Buffy, on top of the disappearance of Riley. Adding her own illness to the mix, and she was a little unsure how Buffy had refrained from becoming overwhelmed. Her daughter’s strength and resilience of course made her proud, but she wished for now she had been given a room on her own.
Looking over at Dawn she felt smothered, struggling within a world of soft pillows over her face and choking the life from her. It made no sense, other than that knowledge of her body, the one that all women knew about themselves. Yes, she knew her own body, damn it. Didn’t all women? And she knew that something was wrong.
Dizziness confused her thoughts for a moment and she lowered herself to the bed, a heat in her head meaning little, and hurting less, but indicating enough that she did know her own body. All women knew when something was a bit off. And as her thoughts turned circular again, she drifted unnaturally into sleep.
A/N...oh my gosh, what can I say, the comments from last chapter just blew my mind. I am so grateful to you all and am still so excited that you like the fic. looking forward to hearing what you have to say about this one.