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 Seed Born of Blood
By Starshine and Bloodshedbaby
Response to Challenge 33. Requirements
Imagine if during “The Gift,” if Buffy sleeps with Spike when they go back to her house to get weapons. Spike thinking he had nothing to lose, went ahead and claimed Buffy. A few hours later, Buffy dies in the battle. Now, the Scoobies do not want anyone to know that Buffy has died. Xander builds a coffin for her, and Willow does a spell to preserve the body, since they can not have her embalmed. Now, 147 days after she dies, Willow does the resurrection spell to bring Buffy back. The resurrection spell revives Buffy, including Spike’s sperm from when they had sex right before she died. Then two months later, Buffy is sick and finds out that she is pregnant. Now Buffy has to deal with not only being pulled out of heaven by her friends, but that she is having Spike’s baby.
Pairing: B/S. R or NC-17, hopefully NC-17
Setting: Starts at the end of season 5, episode “The Gift”
Spike does not try to rape Buffy
Buffy finds somewhere to work other than The Doublemeat Palace
Include the Trio’s argument of Connery vs. Moore vs. Dalton
Include the line “news from the file marked ‘duh.’”
Tara is shot but is not killed
Spike being overprotective of Buffy
Angel finds out that Buffy is pregnant by Spike
Ideas you can use:
Angel being jealous of Spike
Spike bonding with Dawn or the Scoobies
Angel tries (unsuccessfully) to bond with the Dawn & the Scoobies as well
Riley returns to Sunnydale
Spike, Xander, Giles getting drunk together
Xander and Anya get married
Spike and Angel fighting (physically) over Buffy
Giles laughing to Buffy’s confession

Chapter 1
By Starshine

Prologue

“I know you'll never love me.”

Buffy stopped halfway up the stairs of her house and turned back around to see the platinum blonde vampire standing there looking at her the whole of his undead heart in his beautiful blue eyes as he stared up at her.

“I know that I'm a monster, but you treat me like a man, and that's…” Spike stopped, taking in a deep, unnecessary breath. He shook his head slightly as if he was trying to regain his composure.

Buffy looked at him, speechless. Was this really the same creature that came to Sunnydale not more than three years ago? No, she thought with calm certainty. That creature had been full of brash swagger and boundless ego. This vampire-- this MAN-- stood before her ready to sacrifice everything for a little girl he barely knew. And for what? There was nothing in it for him, no money or claim to fame. He possessed no soul to tell him that; right or wrong, this was the thing to do.

Most of his kind was probably gathered somewhere, waiting with great anticipation for the world to be thrown into a state of chaos that would leave them free to roam the earth, taking what they wanted and feasting on the demise of humanity.

Yet he stayed.

He stayed when no one else did; standing side by side with what had once been his mortal enemy. Solid and steadfast, he never hesitated to give her his all, by word or deed.

She thought back to earlier this evening when she had searched him out. It had been her intent to ask for his help in getting Dawnie and her friends out of town. He had been standing in front of his duffle with a crossbow in his hands and memories scattered across the bed, obviously packing. She had swallowed a lump of fear and asked him where he was going.

“Sussed out something on the large capacity side of vehicular travel. Should take me about twenty minutes to nick. Your mates waiting somewhere?”

Buffy had nodded.

“Right then, let’s get moving.”

She hadn’t even had to ask him. He had just known. Once again, without a word of protest, he was ready to follow her to hell and back. Buffy had known at that moment that it wasn’t only about Dawn. As fond as he might be of the girl, she knew in her heart that it was about her.

Once upon a time, she had told him that he couldn’t love; he wasn’t capable of such an emotion. She knew now that she was wrong. So very, very wrong.

“Get your stuff, I'll be here,” Spike said, breaking her out of her reverie.

Buffy turned and began to walk up the stairs, feeling his eyes boring into her back with each step she took. Suddenly, she turned around.

“Spike, I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He tilted his head to the side and looked up at her enquiringly.

“That night…When I told you that you were beneath me. I’m sorry for that.”

Spike looked down in a futile attempt to hide the pain that those vile words still caused him.

Any other insult he could have shaken off, but to hear the words that had started him on his path to eternal damnation fall from her lips with such furious loathing had cut him to the core.

She retraced her steps until she stood on the bottom step of the staircase, her somber hazel eyes level with his. One hand rested on the carved newel post, her fingernails digging tiny half-moons into the soft wood.

“I had to say something. You…you were right. Everything that you said about me, about Slayers and their death wishes, was right. I was desperate to prove you wrong, to regain the upper hand. Of all the things I could have said or done, I chose that. It was a cruel and thoughtless thing to do to someone who was only trying to make me see what was in store for me if I didn’t open my eyes. It was wrong, and I hope that someday you can forgive me for it.”

“Evil vampire here, luv. Kind of used to things like that,” he replied, trying his damnedest to keep her from seeing how much her apology affected him. Ever the Big Bad.

“Sometimes are you are, but I also know that sometimes you’re not. That same night you came here and found me crying on the back steps. It didn’t matter to you that I had just tried to slay you with words; you sat with me for hours and offered comfort. After my mom died; in spite of what Xander said, you went out of your way to bring those flowers for her. And then, you endured unspeakable torture for hours when all you had to do to make it stop was tell Glory who the Key was. Those weren’t the actions of an evil monster. Those were the actions of a man. It’s taken me a long time, but I’ve finally learned that the world isn’t black and white. Nothing is absolute. No one is completely good or bad.”

In a move that was bold and totally without artifice, she reached out and touched his face, her fingers brushing the high arch of his cheekbone.

“You’re not a monster, Spike,” she said.

The softness of her voice echoed through his unbeating heart. He wanted so badly to kiss her, to give her something that expressed how much her words meant to him. He had tried twice before, only to have her flinch away and look upon him in revulsion. Deciding with disgust that he was indeed love’s bitch, he dared to try for a third time. Leaning forward, he pressed a chaste kiss on her soft, pink lips.

Pulling back, he braced himself for a punch or kick to impact painfully with some part of his anatomy. What he got was the firm pressure of a small but lethal hand that slid around the back of his neck to draw him close once more.

Her parted lips met his and Spike’s eyes widened in awe before drifting shut in ecstasy.

Buffy Summers, his mortal enemy; the one thing he loved more than anything in his miserable undead existence, was kissing him. And the only magic involved was what they were creating between them.

A hard shove sent him sprawling on his back and he looked up at her with a brief flash of fear in his eyes, his pose reminiscent of that night in the alley behind the Bronze when she had flayed him with her bitterly spoken words. Instead he found himself being surrounded by her as she flung herself down on top of him, her mouth eagerly devouring his as she tugged impatiently at his shirt.

The silence between them spoke volumes as they clung together in desperation. Kisses were met with equal fervor and hands clutched demandingly as they writhed together on the worn carpet. He flipped her beneath him, a soundless gasp escaping him as her small hand encircled his turgid member, guiding him home.

She moaned as he filled her, driving away all the fear and uncertainty inside her as she lost herself in the sight, smell, and taste of him. They moved together, their bodies in perfect sync. Her eyes never wavered from his as she reveled in the wonder and adoration that spilled from his.

The strength and swiftness of her climax took her breath away. Buffy threw her head back, his name a rapturous hiss from between clenched teeth as she tightened her muscles around him and dug her nails into his churning backside.

Spike growled at her actions, fighting a losing battle with his demon. He turned his shifting face away from her, not wanting the sight of his ridges and fangs to spoil the moment. When she realized what he was trying to do, she took his face in her hands and guided him to her neck.

Any resistance died a quick death as she urged him on. Purring softly in appreciation, he laved the fragrant skin over her pulse with his roughened tongue before gently biting down.
The initial sting of pain was quickly replaced by the most incredible pleasure she had ever felt. He slowed his thrusts to match the rhythm of his lips on her neck; each pull bringing another crashing wave of blissful sensation.

Moved by some primal instinct, she lunged forward and closed her teeth over the faded scars of Drusilla’s mark. Uncaring of the ramifications, she bit down, her blunt teeth tearing at his flesh and drawing blood.

His howl of ecstasy was deafening and he shuddered uncontrollably against her. The tug of her mouth as she suckled at the wounds she had inflicted sent him over the edge and he growled savagely as he spilled himself within her incredible heat.

They moved as one in the aftermath, both licking up the last drops of blood before lifting their heads and simultaneously uttering one word.

“Mine.”

Replete, they clung tenaciously, savoring the few precious remaining moments before the world spun out of control once more. Neither offered paltry excuses for what had occurred; no explanations were needed.

“You’re wrong, you know,” Buffy whispered. “I could, I think. One day I think I could…”

~@~@~@~

An unearthly silence reigned as Spike stared incredulously at Buffy. She lay among the rubble, her slight body completely still; a look of ineffable peace on her face.

An anguished whimper escaped him as the rising sun drove him back, keeping him from joining the others at her side. He staggered as close as he dared, uncaring of his own decimated body as he fell to his knees. His eyes never left her as he reached out with his mind, relying on the ancient claiming ritual they had shared to seek out the faintest of connections, some sign that her essence still lingered.

There was no answer to his desperate inner pleas. Their connection was severed; he felt nothing from her. She was gone.

Spike began to weep, his face covered in blood and tears as he buried it in his hands. The emptiness he felt was unendurable. Ragged sobs were torn from him as he mourned her loss, not caring who saw his grief. A part of him was gone forever; the best part. The most beautiful thing he had ever known was lost to him forever.

The last words she had spoken to him rang in his ears.

“You’re wrong, you know…I could, I think. One day I think I could…”




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