By: Morrigan
A lone figure stood, unseen, peering through the partially opened window of a cozy looking house in Rome, Italy.
And then... It wasn't.
Cloaked in darkness, the figure passed through the walls, and found himself inside the bedroom of a young woman.
He knew that she couldn't see him. He had been following her for weeks now, because, even in death, he couldn't bear to leave her.
She was lying on her side in the satin covered bed, facing away from him, and he gazed at her longingly as the moonlight shimmered over her feminine Silhouette.
She was so quiet and still, but he knew - like he always knew - that she was awake. He moved over to stand at her bedside, leaning over to see the beautiful face of the woman he loved, and shivered as her hand reached back, as if to touch him.
"Can you feel me?" She whispered, her voice floating up to him, gently, as if carried by the warm evening breeze blowing softly through the room.
Choked with emotion, he brought his hand to rest over and through hers, which still lay on the sheets, behind her. He leaned down further to place a kiss along the line of her neck before bringing his head up, his lips close to her ear as he whispered his reply.
"Always, Love."
He smiled wistfully as he watched goosebumps travel along the column of her neck, as if in response. He only wished it could be so.
His hand traced over her form, and he marveled as she brought her hand up to meet his, slowly pushing down the sheet which covered her, leaving her tanned body exposed to his view. A sight which still took his breath away. Not that he really had a need for it, anyhow. She was wearing a simple, white lace negligee, and from the looks of it, nothing underneath.
Cursing the lack of touch that comes with being non-corporeal for what must have been the hundredth time, he allowed his hands to travel back up along her body, his eyes growing wide with amazement as, once again, Buffy's own hands followed his with fluid mimicry, sliding the negligee up and over her small, but perfect breasts, to brush lightly over their dusky, hardened tips.
"Spike..."
His trance broken at the sound of his name, he drew back, his hands sliding back down her body to gaze, once more, at her face. Buffy's eyes were closed, and he was sure she had no idea that he was there. But, hearing his name from her lips as she touched herself, imagining that it was him, even if she didn't know that - somehow - he was leading her to do so... Well, it was enough to make him dizzy.
'Buffy, Pet... If only you knew,' He thought, as he slid his hands over her flat belly and down her thighs, smiling as her hands followed suit.
He couldn't even begin to imagine why this was happening, but he most certainly wasn't going to miss out on the opportunity to take advantage of it.
He continued his feather light touches as he thought, 'It isn't right that things had to go this way.' Buffy had tried to get him to leave the Hellmouth during their Battle with The First, but he knew he had to stay. He would get to go out in a literal blaze of glory, while taking the whole miserable town along with him, thus freeing his golden goddess from ever having to set foot there again. And freeing her, also, from him.
He could feel her conflicted emotions where he was concerned. And, he had believed that her vow of love for him had been nothing more than an attempt to ease a dying hero's pain. It wasn't until after he was gone that he realized just how wrong he truly was. In fact, he would be willing to bet that Buffy hadn't either.
But here he was... Dead, but not gone. He supposed it figured. He could never bring himself to stay away from her when he was flesh in this world. Why had he thought it would be any different, afterwards? Only now, he had to watch her mourn his loss - something he had not expected from her. And it tore at him that he was unable to sooth her heart.
Buffy began to move restlessly under his hands, and the soft mewling sounds that reached his ears pulled him out of his reverie. What the bloody hell was wrong with him? He may not be able to do anything to soothe her heart, but, given the strange twist of opportunity that fate had placed before him, he knew of something else that he could soothe.
'Poor, little, lost girl,' he thought. 'Can you not tell me what you want? What you need?'
He was amazed again when she answered his thoughts.
"You..." she gasped, "I need you." Spike groaned in spite of himself, watching one of her hands follow his own back up to tweak an already hardened and straining nipple. 'Right then,' he smirked, wickedly. Why couldn't she have done this sort of thing in front of him, before he bit the dust?
'You need me? Where? Where do you need me?' He thought, although he was pretty sure he already knew. 'Here?' He wondered, as he continued his attentions to her breast, enjoying the sight of her fondling herself. 'Here?' His other hand traveled and brushed lightly over her curls, causing him to smile wryly as he watched her little finger dip lower, to brush over her clit.
"Oh God... Spike!" Buffy was panting and squirming as though she was being tortured by the most glorious type of suspense. Spike thought it was absolutely delicious.
"Hmmmm..." He considered, as though, with the way her hips seemed to lift, involuntarily, there was really a question to what she wanted next. "Perhaps here..."
Unknowingly following Spike's lead, Buffy's fingers found their way into her throbbing core, curling and thrusting as they sought out that spot they both knew would send her out of this world, while her thumb rubbed and circled around her achingly swollen clit.
Wishing for all the world that he could be much more than the coordinator of this event, he continued on, whispering all sorts of little, encouraging, nasties to her, in hopes that they would find their way into her thoughts.
"That's it kitten," he told her, "I know how to make you purr..."
She was so close now. Damn it, if he couldn't see it, smell it... Just a little more and his girl was going to go off like a rocket. "That's it, Pet." He purred, seductively, "Come for Me."
As if on command, Buffy's body stiffened, her back arched and her eyes rolled back in her head. Her mouth opened in a perfect O as wave upon wave of her orgasm shook her for what seemed like endless seconds. Spike thought it was the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed.
He pulled his hands away, smiling as Buffy dropped her own to her sides, and pulled his legs up to sit cross legged on the bed beside her to bask in her afterglow.
'Funny,' he thought, that I can pass through anything... Can't be heard or seen by anyone, but I can stand on the floor, and sit on a bed or a chair. Go figure!'
Buffy scooted herself up to a sitting position, resting back against the many fluffy pillows she had piled against her headboard. She sniffed, wetly, and Spike felt his heart break in two, as her eyes took on the appearance of deep green pools, heavy from the tears which threatened to spill from them.
"Can you feel me?" She asked again, looking out into the, seemingly, empty room. Then, startling Spike, they turned, abruptly, in his direction, trapping his gaze in her own.
"I can still feel you." She whispered, simply. And then everything began to blur around the edges. She grew smaller as he felt himself being pulled away, as if caught in a vacuum of sorts. 'This is it...' He thought. 'I'm being sucked into Hell! Buffy!' His mind screamed out, as everything slid by him at a sickening speed, leaving him to feel as though he was falling... falling...
And then, as abruptly as it had happened, it stopped. He was standing, somewhere... Somewhere else. And it didn't feel like he was alone.
Spike cautiously opened his eyes and took in the faces which surrounded him, in a room which looked, oddly enough, like some kind of legal office. His worst suspicions, however, were confirmed, as they landed on the face ofthe Great Poofter himself -- Angelus.
Spike screwed up his face in disgust at the cards that had been dealt to him, and his hands clenched in fists of pure rage as he roared hisfury to the heavens.
"Bloody Hell!"