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NA GRACH CROI


Chapter 11: ‘Daraoi Lann’ (Magical Land)


A/N: I would like to remind readers that the Irish Gaelic terms, etc. used in this story are very loosely translated into English.
Example: magical can either be ‘daraoi or druidh’ and it doesn’t necessarily translate into magical, or magic, but more truly into ‘charmed’ or even ‘blessed.’ It’s not an exact science, so to speak. Anyway, this next chapter is a connector one. It’s only important to the plot because it reveals the intimate, personal relationship between Buffy and Spike. Kind of the ‘legends before the fall’ sort of chapter. Angst is coming for our couple.


God, Buffy, my luv,” Spike gasped as he thrust into his dainty little wife’s warm body. “You feel so good to me, so fucking amazing.”

They had been making love for hours, the way they always finished off their long day. This was something Spike looked forward to, all day while he toiled away on the O’Hara farm. In fact, he spent many a boring chore, or toil, just thinking, dreamin’ actually, of his Buffy and the time they would spend together in bed, of course. That and just talking with each other after supper, after their long day of work.

It was night, of course, dinner had been eaten, Buffy and Spike had washed and readied for bed, hours before. Even still, almost close to midnight, the couple made love, passionately together.

Buffy was becoming quite adapted to farm living and she was very proud of herself for it. Her husband seemed quite pleased that his wife was ‘fitting in’ at the O’Hara farm and it helped when Angel and Tara had indeed moved into the smaller, extra house far behind the barn.

That had been a two weeks ago, when Angel and Tara moved, even though Buffy was horrified by it and said so.

“We can’t just run you out of your own home, Tara and Angel,” she had whined in front of her William.

“It’s for the best,” Tara assured her, “the smaller house is perfect for Angel and myself. You and my brother need privacy Buffy, like I said. Please, don’t make and issue of this. There isn’t one.”

That had been that, and both Tara and Angel moved immediately to the other house. While Buffy still felt guilty for being the cause of their moving, she ‘did’ enjoy the privacy that her and Will now had.

In truth, Buffy enjoyed her and Will’s physical relationship, probably as much as he did. She had never felt this intimate with anyone in her life, which was saying quite a lot, really, considering her past occupation.

“Make a baby with me, Will, please,” Buffy was now pleading, softly with her husband as he thrust into her desperately. Her voice was a mix of need and desire, as was his.

Spike felt his release coming, again, and picked up the pace of his thrusts into Buffy’s sweet little cunny. It never ceased to amaze him, how both he and his wife could make love for hours on end, only to pick up and start all over again, once they’d both cum.

Only after he had felt Buffy’s release, then his own, did Spike lay next to her, finally sated together, and so close, did he respond to her ‘baby’ plea.

“I’d love a baby, darlin’,” he murmered as he nuzzled her blond head with his lips. “But, a part of me, the selfish part, wants you all to myself, for a while longer at least.”

Buffy giggled and snuggled her bottom up against his worn out shaft, “it’ll happen when it’s time, I’ve no doubt Will,” she sighed. “I would just love a little boy, one that’s just like you.”

“I’d like a girl, first,” Spike chuckled, “one that’s the image of you, my angel.” He kissed the top of her warm head and sighed in contentment.

They lay together, in silence for a while, then Buffy finally spoke, softly, “Will? I know it’s not something I should bring up, not now anyway, but I have to know. Tara. She’d never consider really marrying that awful Ethan Rayne, would she?”

Spike flinched, it was not lost on Buffy. “Never,” he grunted gruffly. “I’d hang first before I’d let a Finn-Rayne near my sister, or you, especially.

Buffy almost asked William why he thought a Finn-Rayne, any of them, would ever get within twenty feet of her, but she decided to hold her tongue. Instead, she changed the subject quickly and turned the conversation to Angel.

“Angel,” Buffy began with caution, “does he not see how much Cordelia Chase cares for him?”

“No,” Spike sighed, impatiently, “Angel is clueless as to Cordelia’s feelings for him. It’s not like Tara and I haven’t tried to open his blind eyes, but no. We’ve pretty much talked this out, haven’t we Buffy, sweet?”

She nodded and turned to face him, “I know,” she whispered, “just a little confused by all these secret feelings and such around here. In this magical land of yours.”

Buffy giggled and and buried her head into William’s taut, strong chest. She enjoyed these quiet, special moments they shared together. The house was so still, only the sounds of the outside night carried through the halls of the O’Hara home. The low, musical noises of creatures of the night, echoed about and into their home. There were no sounds of the city, as there had been in London, and certainly no riotous partying noises that Buffy had become accustomed to there. It reminded Buffy of how truly at peace she was now, here, in this Irish farm, with her Irish husband.

“This is a magical place, you know that Will?” she sighed happily. She took his strong, calloused hand in hers and kissed it, lovingly. “I love it here, Will,” she confessed for the hundredth time since coming to Ireland. “It’s so green and lovely, so peaceful. You have made me so happy my darling,” she murmered into his chest, tenderly.

“You’re the one that’s made me happy, Buffy,” Spike nuzzled the top of her head and stroked his hands down her bare arms. He skimmed the soft skin of his wife’s stomach and the top of her silky thighs. “You’re the magic in my life, sweetheart. Oh sweet Jesus,” he moaned as his Buffy placed her tiny, warm little hand on his cock and began to stroke it, gently.

“Maybe we should just go to sleep now, Will,” Buffy purred softly, still stroking his shaft with her hand.

“Maybe,” Spike growled, huskily, “but then, maybe not.”

Days had turned to weeks, and weeks to a couple of months, since Buffy had joined her husband on his farm. Buffy felt as if she had been born to be here, exist here on this beautiful land that she now partly owned. Even though her past was a painful remembrance, she was learning to push it back, where it truly belonged. In her past.

Spike worked hard on his farm, even with the help of his brother, Angel, he toiled daily to keep the place up and running. It was a successful place and Spike was quite proud of it. More then that, however, he was proud of his wife, Buffy and the way she elegantly (yes, he used such words) adapted to his farm and his life.

Although the farm took a lot of work and sweat, Spike loved it so. It was a reminder of his beloved, dead parents, and their folks before them also. Nothing in the world would ever take this farm from him, Spike O’Hara, or his dear wife, Buffy. When they were blessed with children, hopefully near a dozen of them, Spike intended on passing this land onto them.

‘Surely no Finn-Rayne will ever walk this land of mine,’ Spike assured himself, daily. ‘I’ll hang before one of those fucks ever have my farm, my family’s place,’ he constantly told himself.

Buffy had learned to bake bread, with the help of her sister-in-law, Tara, and she was so very proud of herself. She, Buffy could complete the wash, her’s and Will’s on Tuesday; have three meals put on the table, daily; keep the front house clean as a whistle, daily; feed the damn chickens, daily and even have time to to learn how to sew. Again, thanks to Tara O’Hara, who was helping her fit into the farm life.

Everything was going so well and Buffy was so happy here. She just knew that her decision to fall in love with William/Spike O’Hara had been the best one she’d ever made in her life. Her husband was so pleased with her, so happy, and it gave her joy to know she brought this to him. God knows, he deserved some happiness and peace in his life.

Spike tossed the hammer aside that he was using to mend the corral that housed the horses. It was nearly 5:00 PM and the sun was beginning it’s descent into the west, a sign that time was coming for supper.

He gazed at the three horses in the corral, his very own animals, that he’d seen born and raised himself. Spike was proud of these three beautiful horses.

‘Iarann’ (Iron) was his own dark steed. A strong and worthy horse, full of piss and fire. His mate, ‘Siucra’ (Sugar) was now Spike’s beloved Buffy’s mare to ride. The horses, mated as they were, had a colt, barely a year old, by the name of ‘Trua’ (Compassion) that constantly remained by his parents’ sides.

While Spike watched the family of horses at play, a sudden gust of cold air blew about him, causing him to take notice and shudder quickly. Even for this time of year, which was in limbo of summer and fall, this cold blast of wind was surely a ‘forgra de curta’ or a sign of darkness.

Spike shivered and quickly crossed himself with the ‘holy sign’ twice for good measure. He then shrugged off his dubious misgivings and headed up to his home, to wash and have supper with his darling wife, Buffy.

After he washed, outside, clean as he could get in the trough, Spike hurried up to the back door of the house and entered, glancing about for his angel of a wife. He spied her, busily setting the table, humming as she went about her work, happily.

“I’ve missed you, as usual,” Spike called out to Buffy, warmly.

“Me too,” Buffy grinned back at her William. “Now, wipe your boots and sit at our table. I’ve fixed a fine supper for us, husband and I have so much to tell you this evening.”


A/N: This was, like I said, a connector chapter of Spuffy fluff. The angst, for our couple, is going to begin, rather quietly, in the next chapter. Someone in Balleycastle, someone just returned there, close to the Finn-Rayne’s, has an inkling as to our Buffy’s past. Thanks for reading, please review. Luv, Spuf





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