Buffy sighed, returning her stake to the waistband of her pants. “What do you want, Spike?”
He appeared from behind her, cocking an eyebrow. “I wanna know how you tuck those stakes in there without gettin' any splinters.”
Buffy rolled her eyes as he stopped directly in front of her.
He shrugged at her dead stare. “Inquirin' minds want to know.”
The Slayer shook her head, rolling her eyes again. “If you really must, it was Mom's idea.”
Spike laughed, not having been prepared for her to answer. He stepped closer. “What, luv?”
Buffy was beginning to regret continuing this conversation. “Sh-She sewed a garter to--” she mumbled, skimming her fingertips along the top of her pants.
Spike smiled at how adorable she was, ducking his head to press a kiss to her lips.
She froze. “Spike, don't!” she said shrilly, slamming an open palm to his chest. At the naked hurt on his face, she swallowed. “I-I... I can't.” She flinched when the hurt in his expression turned to fury. “God, Spike, I can't deal with this right now. I just wish you'd disappear!”
“Done.”
Buffy gasped, whipping around to see the distorted face of a vengeance demon standing behind them.
Halfrek gave a wicked smile. “Have fun.”
A portal opened up behind the black-clad vampire, tugging him in against his will. Buffy shrieked, her first reflex being to grasp onto the sleeve of his coat. The tunnel yanked at her until she was falling for what seemed like forever, her breath lodged permanently in her throat as her heart slammed furiously into her ribcage.
Buffy cried out when she realized that the ground was quickly coming up to meet her, and hard. The last thing that she was painfully conscious of was the feel of her head bouncing against the floor that had suddenly materialized beneath her.
It seemed like a while later that Buffy returned to herself, the first course of action being to clutch her pained head. She squeezed her eyes shut, drawing her arms and legs to her middle. Taking a shuddering breath, she opened her eyes, immediately having to shield them from the stark, white brightness that invaded her vision.
She gasped, and then quieted. Was she...?
Am I back? Am I back in Heaven?
Buffy sat up as quickly as she could manage, also becoming conscious of the tall grass underneath her. She gripped handfuls of it as if to ground herself, her eyes shifting to take in everything around her.
The air seemed to give off an ephemeral glow. She slowly rose on shaky legs, gasping at what views were revealed to her when she looked beyond the tall grass. In the near distance stood a glimmering fortress that towered so high that its topmost parapet disappeared into a tuft of cloud. Her legs seemed to move of their own accord, wading through the grass for almost a half an hour until she reached two wooden double doors that were almost thrice as tall as she.
Buffy pressed her hand against the worn wood, giving it a hard push. The sound of it opening echoed so loudly in her ears that the sound seemed to consume her. She took a deep breath and stepped inside, jumping when the door creaked shut.
“H-Hello?” she called out. The only voice that replied was her own. She trembled. “Spike?”
The Slayer flinched as the room she occupied suddenly exploded with light. It turned out to be a great hall with a high ceiling over one hundred feet tall, and every step she took onto the sea green marble floor was amplified with reverberations so loud it seemed like a presence in and of itself.
Buffy took the time to take in her surroundings as she crossed the hall to another set of heavy double doors. She gave one a push, gasping once again at the tableau before her. A long table spanned the width of the room, filled with so much food and beverage that she was surprised it didn't cave in on itself. The hot dishes still smoked, as if they'd just been taken out of the oven.
The small blonde approached an empty, plain-looking wine glass, her breath hitching in her throat as it suddenly filled itself with a pink, sparkling fluid. She swallowed. The aromas were all delicious, but she was especially parched. Her throat was unsurprisingly dry after all that shrieking she'd done in the seemingly unending portal.
Putting a tamp on her thirst, Buffy rounded the rectangular table, watching as every empty glass filled themselves of their own accord as she passed them.
She peered into a particularly tall, clear glass, lifting it up to smell its contents. Buffy upended it into her mouth, gasping as she gulped down the cool water greedily. When she put it down, it refilled again. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand, then took another deep drink from the same glass.
She coughed as the liquid hit the back of her throat, going down the wrong pipe. Her eyes watered as she tried to catch her breath, dropping into one of many empty seats.
Buffy took a deep breath once her throat finally cleared, rubbing her watery eyes. Her stomach was revolting from drinking too fast, and she doubled over as her abdomen cramped.
She sighed deeply, leaning back into the chair. She reached for a green apple sitting innocuously in a bowl in the middle of the table, bringing it to her nose. It smelled waxy and tart and sweet, and she salivated as she parted her lips to take a bite. Soon after eating the apple to its core, she reached for a thin slice of what looked to be beef, and then a dinner roll, and then a couple of small flaky pastries that fit inside her palm.
Buffy sighed again, feeling at once sated and tired. She stood, taking a few steps toward a spiral staircase. When she turned around to look behind her, she found the long table to be suddenly bare.
She swallowed hard, gripping the railing. Alternating between glancing behind and letting her eyes follow up the staircase, she made her ascent. It was a long way to the top, and started to become increasingly cold. Buffy shivered, her perspiration from exertion making the cold worse.
Finally, at the top of the stairs, a long, carpeted hallway seemed to unfurl before her. Buffy took in the plush floor, suddenly overcome with the urge to feel it under her feet. Still holding onto the rail, she toed off one shoe, then the other, and then peeled away her socks. Buffy sighed as she placed her bare feet on the carpet, feeling them yield to the soft yet firm burgundy and gold fabric.
She left her shoes at the top of the stairs, wandering down the hall. The walls were lined with doors, all thrown open, she realized, except for the one directly in front of her, about a thousand feet away.
Buffy fell into a sort of tunnel vision, her legs determined to get her to that door. She turned the crystal doorknob and pushed it open, warmth surrounding her immediately. A fire was going in a small black stove in the middle of the room. To the left, flush against the wall, was a deluxe king size canopy bed that was swathed in a dark blue comforter with matching pillows. On top of the bedspread was a long, white, flowing nightgown, easily a half foot taller than she. Nevertheless, Buffy found herself shedding her clothes and wriggling into the soft cloth. The long-sleeved gown hung slightly off her shoulders, and the skirts pooled gently around her feet. She lifted the dress up so as not to trip on it as she pulled down the bed and crawled underneath the covers. Sleep seemed to swallow her as soon as she closed her eyes.
The Slayer awoke to the feel of something tickling her neck. She sighed, then gasped as the feeling grew bolder, her hips arching upwards and meeting something very solid. “What--” she squeaked, panic overriding her as she felt someone grip her wrists. It wasn't painful, but it was enough to alarm her. “Who--”
“Shh,” a voice murmured, the sound seeming to spill right into her ear.
Buffy immediately became aware that she could not see anyone. Her eyes, quickly adapting to the dark, saw the shadows of the stove, the vanity that sat beyond it on the opposite wall, and the heavy velvet curtains that were draped over the windows.
She gasped again at the faint feel of lips against her throat, and strong, calloused hands that tugged at the top of her gown to expose her breasts. She looked down at herself, shivering when she saw a rather opaque shadow in the form of two masculine hands traveling down her front, one groping her chest, the other settling onto her hip.
The shock melted away into panic again. “Who--”
The soft cotton material bunched around her waist, and suddenly someone was pressing their open mouth to her sex, darting a tongue between her folds and waggling a broadened tip against her clit. She shrieked and writhed in pleasure, lifting her pelvis for more contact. The rough tongue thrust into her hole, only to be replaced by a bony finger as it reinstated its position against the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.
“Ohgodohgodohgodohgod--!”
Her orgasm ripped through her, leaving her panting and breathless. Each and every nerve in her body sang with electrifying pleasure that made her writhe under this black phantom, made her toes curl deliciously.
She was suddenly aware of the emptiness between her thighs, cursing herself as she whimpered at the loss. And then there was a mouth that was flush against hers, blunt teeth that tugged at her lower lip, and the presence of something long, hard, and cool cradled against her inner thigh.
The tongue that had slithered in between her legs was now gently lapping at her lips before darting into her mouth. Buffy pressed her hands to a hard but unseen chest, settling them on broad, muscled shoulders as she massaged the cool tongue with her own. The phantom sealed his mouth against hers before plunging his cock inside of her, two hands gripping her hips punishingly as he slammed his pelvis into hers.
Buffy screamed at the sudden onslaught of overwhelming pleasure that shook her to her core, thus allowing the tongue once again to thrust deep into her mouth. The headboard slammed violently into the wall as she was pounded brutally into the mattress, and a groan ripped through the unseen man on top of her as she lowered her hands to cup his very firm and toned ass.
She cried out as the solid length between her legs was suddenly removed from her, trembling as she was all of a sudden ushered onto all fours. Hands gripped her hips bitingly as his cock invaded her from behind, all the way to the hilt. She shivered and moaned as he ground his hips, burying himself so deep inside of her that the head of his cock was flush against her cervix. He angled his thrusts, making Buffy shout as his erection brushed against her gspot with every inward movement.
She collapsed onto her elbows with her ass in the air, shivering as she felt contrastingly soft kisses along the nape of her neck and down her upper back.
“Harder! Please, harder!” Buffy begged, gripping the sheets, cooing as the force of her lover sent her face down into the pillows, gasping in agonizing pleasure as a palm came down on her ass, and then proceeded to come down on her again and again and again...
“Unnnnnnnnnhhhh!” she keened, coming harder than she ever had in her life...up until this point.
“Mine,” the voice intoned softly against her mouth, and she was inclined to agree, whimpering as she nodded her assent. “Say it!” She felt fangs descend and then suddenly bite down on her neck.
Buffy froze, her senses returning to her. Her eyes were heavy as she lifted her hand to palm the face hovering over her own, tracing with her fingertips his plump bottom lip, the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the soft yield of the nest of his curly hair. “Yours,” she agreed, licking her lips and nodding.
He was still inside her as he lowered himself down, slick with her sweat as he slid his arms around her.
Buffy swallowed. “But why can't I see you?”
His chest vibrated as he chuckled. He pressed a kiss underneath her chin, then reared back to sit on his haunches. “Gotta go now, pet.”
“But—where?” she whimpered, reaching out.
Her fingers touched nothing, and she was suddenly aware of the first rays of daylight touching the edges of the curtains.
Buffy burst into tears, her hand still reaching out into the darkness.
Time was its own entity here. Buffy didn't know what the hour was when she finally got out of bed, her cheeks still tear-streaked and her eyes puffy and swollen. She found a door beside the vanity which led into a walk-in bath. She sank into the hot water, sighing as she dipped her head under. She parted the curtains in the bedroom after finishing up, finding the sun at its zenith. She bit her lip, pulling on a soft robe that she'd found in the chiffonier.
When she arrived downstairs, the table was once again laden with a banquet fit for over one hundred people. She picked at the fruit, her fretful evening not lending much to her appetite. She turned her head, looking across the room to the opposite door leading into the hall. Feeling restless, she stood, taking an anjou pear with her as she headed for the anterior part of the fortress.
Buffy laid her sticky hands on the door, grasping at the knocker. She pulled on it, finding that it wouldn't budge. She frowned, a slight pout on her lips as she began to get upset again. She gave a shaky sigh, feeling frustrated and lonely.
The Slayer looked once again at the door before exploring the rest of the property. She'd found a door that led to a lower level, but it appeared pitch black and she had no lamp. She searched everywhere for candles or a torch at least, but came up with none.
Buffy ran back upstairs, throwing open her bedroom door. She remained inside the doorframe, searching with her eyes for any wood. After all, something had to feed the stove--but as she peered inside, it looked as though like everything else in the fortress, it fed itself.
She sat on the bed. “Spike?” she called out hopefully, twisting the fabric of her robe between her hands.
Buffy couldn't measure the time here, but enough of it had passed for frustrated tears to come to her eyes again.
She wiped at her face, hurrying down the stairs. She went to the door again that led to the lower level, grasping the doorframe as she cautiously placed her foot through the threshold. She held her breath as uncomfortable coldness seemed to consume her foot. She'd lowered it about four or more inches before it touched flat ground.
“S...Spike?”
Her voice didn't even carry into the dark room. Crouching, she kept one hand on the doorframe as she chanced another step. The further she let her body through the door, the colder she felt. She lowered her feet again, gasping when her toes met warm liquid. She pulled back, shuffling backwards to look at her foot in the light. Her toes were covered in what looked to be thick, black tar.
She found it easier to breathe once she returned to the brightly lit hall. She left black footprints wherever she walked. She sat down again at the bare table, lifting her foot to give it a sniff. It smelled earthy, like soil after a rain.
Buffy continued her exploration. She went from room to room only to find abandoned furnishings covered with white, dusty sheets.
The last room to the right of the master bedroom, she found with relief, was a study. There was another stove in the middle of this room, which roared to life the moment she stepped foot in it. She let her eyes pass over the leather spines, noticing that many titles were those that she'd never heard of before: 'The Rape of the Lock,' 'Iphigenia,' 'The Prince.'
She skimmed the pages by the light of the fire, sitting in the arms of a gargantuan leather wingback chair. She found that she'd dozed off, shaking herself awake when she felt the pinch of hunger take over.
Buffy went back downstairs, helping herself to a bowl of beef stew and a couple of dinner rolls from the banquet table. She sighed, returning upstairs to the bedroom. When she sat at the foot of the bed, she felt a pair of strong hands gently squeeze her shoulders.
She sniffled, her bottom lip trembling as she felt gentle fingers trace the tracks of her tears. She found herself lifted into someone's lap, felt herself being held closely to a bare, static chest. Tender lips kissed her gently, fingers coming up under her chin to cup her face. She scrambled to straddle his lap, burying her face in his crook of his neck.
Buffy gasped as he traced his fingers up and down her back, lifting the back of her dress with every upward stroke. Then he was tracing the undersides of her breasts as she shook against him and dragging his fingertips all along her thighs, barely dipping the digits into the folds of her soaked pussy.
“Please,” she begged, moving her hips against him. She felt his erection pressing into her from underneath. She closed her eyes at the sound of a zipper, moaning as he moved her underwear aside to rest the head of his cock against her entrance. She wrapped her legs tightly around his middle, doubling over as he pushed his cock inside.
They moved slowly against each other, his pelvic bone flush against her clit the whole time. She sobbed, lowering her head to nip at his shoulder. He growled, slamming his hips up while simultaneously holding hers down.
“Wish I could--”
“Shh,” he whispered, kissing her deeply. “S'ok. Got you, luv.”
“But I--”
He held her tighter in his arms, nipping at her throat.
“Don't go,” she whimpered. “Please.”
“We'll make it last all day if we have to,” he murmured against her mouth.
“Wanna see...” she keened, slowly riding his cock. “I-I just...”
“Shh, luv,” he whispered, nibbling on her lower lip. He laid her down on her stomach, entering her from behind.
She gasped as he corkscrewed his hips, running his fingertips up and down the sides of her breasts. She pressed her ass against him, delighting in the way he moaned against the back of her neck as she gave him a squeeze. He froze, letting her gyrate on his cock.
“Luv,” he murmured in her ear.
“Hmm?” Buffy turned her head, wishing she could see his eyes.
“Wan' you to do somethin' for me,” he said, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, “when the night is through.”
“Spike?”
“Eros an' Psyche,” he said, moving against her again.
“Wh-What?” she stammered, arching into him.
“S'a book,” he replied, gently pinching her nipples. “Want you to find it.”
“Y-You know--” Buffy gasped, “you know about the library?”
“Shh,” he hushed her gently, slamming his hips into hers.
“Please, Spike...”
“Yes, luv?” he rumbled, wrapping his arms tightly around her.
She quaked underneath him, momentarily speechless as she milked his cock. “Tell me where you go.”
Spike was suddenly motionless. He took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly next to her ear. “I disappear, pet.”
Buffy's eyes watered. She made a sound of protest as he withdrew from her heat, quieting only when he gathered her into his arms. She laced her fingers through his, squeezing tightly. “I'll fix this,” she said, resolute.
He gave a gentle smile that she could not see, tracing the shape of her lips with a fingertip. “Know you will,” he murmured, pressing his mouth to hers. He sat up in alarm, nestling himself between her thighs. “Fadin', luv.”
She shook her head. “No!” she cried, clawing at his chest. A sob tore through her. “Don't leave me here.”
“M'always here with you,” he whispered. “Promise.” He slid inside, stretching her, thrusting his hips at a deliberately slow pace. He slid his hand between them, rubbing her clit in slow circles as he shuddered, coming inside her depths. “Feel so wonderful. Love you, Buffy.”
She closed her eyes tightly, squeezing her arms and legs around him. His weight seemed to dissolve around her until he was gone from her arms.
Buffy spent another evening crying herself to sleep.
She awoke in a panic, tumbling off the bed. Buffy shrugged the nightgown back on, deciding to go downstairs to once again try the door. She gave the knocker a fruitless tug, then tried to hurl herself against it. The door didn't budge.
Buffy panted, staring at the door in despair. She froze when she suddenly heard a loud, wet plop coming from somewhere behind her.
The Slayer turned around, slowly, shuddering at the scene before her. The door to the lower level was hanging precariously off its hinges, and the floor surrounding it was in a sadder state. It had begun to cave in on itself, crumbling into the mud Buffy'd placed her foot in before.
She ran for the staircase, bounding up it three steps at a time. Her footfalls were swallowed by the thick carpet as she hurtled toward the study at full speed. The stove roared to life instantly, making Buffy cough as soot erupted from the vent. Her eyes watered as she ran her fingers over leather spines, squinting as she searched desperately for the title Spike had told her of before.
She ended up climbing the bookcase when she could not find it on the lower shelves. Dusty tomes spilled onto the floor as she wedged her foot into each shelf like rungs of a ladder.
“Eros and Psyche, Eros and Psyche...” she mumbled urgently, toppling books off the shelf adjacent to her. “C'mon, c'mon!” she shrieked in exasperation.
Buffy looked down at the floor, crestfallen at the number of books that littered it. Her face was covered in dust, and the front of her sleeping gown was no longer a puritan white but a pallid gray. She reached for another book with a heavy heart, growing more and more crushed as each title revealed itself to her.
The small blonde swiped at another shelf, wiping the dirt from the spines. A book fell and clobbered her in the face, making her lose her grip and her footing. She fell backward with a yell, wincing as her back was assaulted by the blunt edges of several book covers beneath her.
She groaned, laying her head back. She glanced up to her left, frowning at something familiar. An open book lay sprawled on the floor, the entirety of its text in ancient Greek.
A word caught her eye. “'Ερως,'” it read, and above it there was a depiction of a naked, winged man, holding what looked to be a short spear or arrow to his finger.
“Wait,” she gasped to herself, recalling Willow's once futile attempt to teach her the Greek alphabet and their distinct sounds when they'd gone to the frat house Riley had lived in back at the university. “Something about the r's and p's,” she grasped at the memory with difficulty.
She looked at the word again and shrieked in celebration. “The r's look like p's!” she hollered, grabbing the book. “Eros! This is Eros!”
Her face fell when it dawned upon her that the rest of the text was written in the Greek alphabet. She sobbed in frustration, darting her foot out to kick it.
It was a heavy tome and did not budge much, but some of its pages had been disturbed. She glanced down, squinting. With a gasp, it dawned upon her that there were many illustrations. She flipped through the pages with renewed gusto, her eyes hungrily taking in the drawings.
Buffy froze, stopping at a page that depicted a winged, opaque shadow hovering over a girl in deep repose. Her heart hammered in her chest as she quickly turned the page, her cheeks burning at the next illustration, which characterized the shadow – in much detail – having intimate relations with the very enraptured girl.
She turned the page, eyes widening at the next picture. In this one, the young woman held a flaming candle to the shadow's face, illuminating very masculine, handsome features.
“I didn't find any candles,” Buffy realized with a groan.
She got up, stumbling over books as she made her way back into the bedroom. She scoured every corner for something she could with relative safety set aflame.
She wandered into the bathroom, eyeing the scrub brush sitting innocuously on the ledge of the bath. She grabbed it, then hurried back into her quarters.
She went to the bed, grabbing one of the pillows and ripping the case open. She quickly tied it to the end of the brush, then took the other pillowcase and ran to the stove. Her hand encased safely in the decorative sham, she flung open the vent, exposing the perpetual fire. She took a deep breath and stuck the scrub brush in, watching as the pillowcase became consumed with flames.
Buffy hurried toward the bed, her eyes searching desperately for the familiar outline of a man...pire. She whimpered when nothing showed, not even when she pointed the makeshift torch everywhere else around the room.
She rushed into the bath to immerse the flaming pillowcase, tears gathering in her eyes.
She dropped the singed stick on the ground, glaring at it with as much loathing as she could muster. She sighed and wafted back into the bedroom, the sunlight peeking through the thick curtains that she had disturbed the morning before flickering at her tauntingly.
She sat down, feeling all her energy leave her.
Hope had not left her yet.
She would wait until nightfall.
What other choice did she have?
Buffy returned downstairs to take a look at the damage. The floor was still crumbling in the foyer, and upon looking at the banquet table found most of the fruit to be bruised. She cautiously looked over the dinner rolls, finding them clear of mold. She took a few handfuls upstairs, wrapped up in a handkerchief.
She ran into the study again, jumping when the stove roared to life. She plucked the book she'd discovered before, skimming the pictures for more clues. Spike had probably been reminded of Eros and Psyche from their strange predicament, but what if it wasn't exactly like it? Her hands shook as she flipped through the pages, wishing she could understand the text.
After several hours, Buffy froze when there came a shuddering rumbling downstairs. She practically flew halfway down the staircase, gasping in horror upon seeing that the cracks in the floor had spread toward the large dining room. The building gave a loud groan as the marble continued to spiderweb.
Buffy took a deep breath before running back into the bedroom. She wasted no time in grabbing another pillowcase from the bed, rushing into the bath to retrieve the damp scrub brush. She wrapped the pillowcase around the driest end, then thrust it into the stove. The fabric caught fire immediately.
“Spike!” she cried, her voice cracking. She waved the makeshift torch at every possible corner of the room. “Spike, please!”
She gasped when she saw a shadow flit by the bed. She swallowed, hard, tears gathering in her eyes as she stepped forward. Holding out the flame, Buffy whimpered when she was able to make out the sharp angles of Spike's face. She threw the piece of wood into the stove before tackling him with a noisy sob.
“Shh,” Spike murmured, cupping her cheeks and kissing her gently. “Knew you'd figure it out. Had no doubts, luv.”
Buffy cried even harder, burying her face in his neck. The vampire pulled her into an affectionate embrace, his lips caressing her shoulder. They lost their footing when the fortress began to shake.
“Think the sun's about down, sweetheart,” he murmured into her skin, taking her hands as they picked themselves up. He ushered her toward the window, moving back the curtain. “Gonna have to make a jump for it,” he said breathlessly, trying to measure how far down they were from the ground.
The Slayer wasted no time in undoing the latch and throwing open the window.
“Ready?” he said softly.
She nodded, taking his hand. They both stepped up on the windowsill, leaping from it as the floor began to tremble. The air crackled around them as they fell, and suddenly a portal opened up in midair and swallowed them. The two bleach blondes groaned and grunted as they were deposited onto the other side of the portal, Buffy falling directly on top of a gravemarker while Spike hit the grass and tumbled.
The vampire scrambled to his feet almost immediately despite the pain that wracked his body, rushing to the Slayer's side. Fortunately for her she was unconscious, and would miss the misery accompanied with him lifting her up and inspecting her injuries. He ran for his crypt as quickly as he could, dropping down the hatch and gently laying her down on the bed.
Spike tugged the dress down her front, wincing at the heavy bruising that was already present around her lower ribs. Just from lightly palpating the contusion he knew that she'd broken some of them. He gently pressed his ear to her ribcage, listening carefully for her breathing and lung sounds. Despite her breaths being labored from the pain, he didn't hear any fluid that indicated that she had punctured her lungs. He stayed with her while she was unconscious, monitoring her breathing and bloodflow.
It was a little after four in the morning when she began to wake.
“Shh, baby girl,” he murmured, kissing the shell of her ear. “Don' move. You've got a coupla broken ribs, sweetheart.”
Buffy's eyes fluttered open. “What happened?” she croaked.
“Landed on a slab of granite when that portal spit us out,” he said softly, petting her hair. “M'sorry, luv, I don' have much in the way of cups. Could give you a coupla shot glasses full o'water, or take you home.”
She winced. “If you try to move me I will kick your ass,” she threatened.
Spike chuckled, kissing her forehead. “Poor luv. Duly noted.”
“Could take you up on the water, though,” she rasped.
Spike grabbed a few double-shot glasses from the upper level, rinsing them out in his makeshift shower. “Lemme sit you up, pet?”
Buffy nodded, grimacing.
“Take a deep breath on three,” he instructed, tucking his hands under her arms. “One... two... three--” He tugged her up to a sitting position, wincing as she squeaked in protest. He let her catch her breath before handing her a shot glass filled to the rim with water. “Should be right as rain in a coupla hours,” he murmured, gently skating his fingers along her ribcage. “The bruises are already startin' to yellow.”
She nodded again, closing her eyes.
“You want me to get in touch with the Bit? Maybe get some food and painkillers?”
“Can we...talk about something first?” she asked, looking timid.
Spike shifted uncomfortably. “Whassat, luv?”
She blushed. “You...bit me. I...well...I let you.”
His eyes widened. He swallowed, averting his gaze. “Well...it wasn't reciprocal, luv. The claim'll fade away in a couple weeks.”
Buffy nodded, biting her lower lip. “Okay.” She took a deep breath.
Spike looked hurt. He stood. “M'gonna see the li'l sis now,” he muttered, his voice sounding strained.
“M-Maybe somewhere down the line...w-we can do it again?” Buffy stammered.
His jaw dropped. He stared at her. “W...What?”
Her face turned crimson. “When...When I'm ready,” she said sheepishly, still too shy to look at him.
The vampire was looking at her like she'd grown a second head. “M'sorry, what?”
Buffy only giggled.
squawks
05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
pj
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
Rabbit_moon1
12/23/16 01:12 pm
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
AudryDaluz1
10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!
05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
pj
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
Rabbit_moon1
12/23/16 01:12 pm
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
AudryDaluz1
10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!