| In Omne Tempus by Holly |
| Chapter #8 - Could We Start Again, Please |
Could We Start Again, Please Naturally, his decision to put space between them lasted all of twenty minutes. The vision of her, shattered and crying, refused to give him peace. He had to know that she’d gotten home safely. That she wasn’t hurt, beyond what he’d done to her. There would be no rest until he made sure of that. He didn’t have an invite as it was; he couldn’t hurt her if he couldn’t reach her. He had to make sure she was all right. He didn’t care how wrong it was. He couldn’t get into her house; therefore it was safe to assume that he couldn’t hurt her anymore than he already had. He could reassure himself that she was okay, then go home and pray for the strength not to walk into sunlight the next morning. Serves you right. The look in her eyes would haunt him forever. Hurt her. He’d hurt the girl. After waiting for fourteen years to see her, hold her, claim her as his, he’d done something utterly deplorable. He’d hurt her, and he would never forgive himself. She’s gonna stake you the second she sees you again. Bugger all. He’d chance it. He needed to see her face. Then he would retreat into the shadows, and leave her be. For as long as he could, anyway. Spike drew in a deep breath, his bravado withering when her house came into view. The air was fragranced with her tears, and the knowledge that he was the source of her pain ripped him to shreds. Were the rules completely different just because she was human? Because she was the Slayer? He had no clue. Only that, if the Powers had mated him to a slayer with the intention of being her weakness, they would be bitterly disappointed. He had no idea what the game was about, but he knew simply from tonight that he never again wanted to be the source of her anguish. Without even asking it of him, she had him thoroughly defanged. The knowledge bothered him. The past few years, up until her calling, Spike had lived under the assumption that his taking her and claiming her as his would coincide with turning her into a vampire. It was the only option that made sense to him. The only way he could justify the unconventional mating in the first place. He still didn’t presume to know answers as to why he’d been issued the short straw in the department of mates, though that hadn’t stopped him from daydreaming up a few theories. The most logical being that fate had screwed up and he was destined to not only claim her, but sire her. That had changed the night he witnessed her first patrol. There was just too much to gamble on chance. Too much at stake; his being destined to a human was one thing—having that human just coincidentally filling the role of slayer? Not possible. There was something else. Something larger than him; something he didn’t want to bugger up. Moreover, she was the Slayer, and one simply didn’t turn slayers. He didn’t know all the lore, didn’t know how much of it was based in fabrication, but he knew enough to accept that siring slayers was essentially signing a death warrant. That was reason enough. What was worse, he was nearly certain that he wouldn’t want to condemn her to his world even if he felt it was an option. Buffy was sunshine, and her light was what made her beautiful. Not that she wouldn’t be gorgeous in moonlight, but he cherished her the way she was. And that terrified him. Spike shook his head and sent the thought away. He wasn’t ready to explore that, yet. Wasn’t ready to completely disassociate himself from the past, despite being chin-deep in the waters of the Rubicon. His life with Buffy had been lived in shadows thus far; imaginary figures playing out what they would eventually have with the promise that it would remain on hold forever. He didn’t know what to expect with her. He had his dreams, but fantasies were nothing founded in reality. He expelled another deep breath, eying the tree that he was certain had been planted especially for him. Unlike the tree in Los Angeles, this one was nearly an extension of her bedroom. The other had provided a keen view of the happenings in her room, but not a walkway. This tree was made specifically for stalkers, and as long as he was the only one reaping the benefits, he was more than fine with that. Tonight, he ventured closer to the window than he’d ever before dared. He no longer cared if she saw him; he needed to see her. And his heart nearly broke all over again when he did. She met his eyes immediately. As though she had been waiting for him to arrive. As though she knew he wouldn’t leave it as they had. Funny; in fourteen years, she had not once cast a glance in his direction. Tonight, though, they couldn’t help but sense each other. Spike had no earthly idea how long they remained like that; remained frozen in a moment. Only that the hurt had completely vanished, and confusion was in its place. Tormented confusion; the sort that would keep her awake all night, tossing and turning while she tried to make sense of what had happened tonight. Well, there it was. He’d done what he needed to do in order to find sleep. Spike held her eyes a beat longer, then turned to climb back to the ground. Something happened, then. Something he hadn’t planned. Buffy opened her window. “Spike?” The vampire forced his eyes shut, relishing in the sound of his name on her lips. “I jus’…I wanted to make sure you got home all right, kitten,” he said, refusing to look at her. “Din’t mean to…I jus’ needed to see that you got home.” “How did you know where I live?” A bitter chuckle sounded through his throat. “You’ll be hard pressed to find somethin’ I don’ know about you.” She licked her lips. “Okay. That’s kinda wigsome.” “You don’ know the half of it.” He sighed. “Look, luv, I don’ expect you to believe me…or forgive me for what happened. ‘S not why I’m here. But for what it’s worth, I am sorry. ‘S jus’…I’ve waited so long, an’ here you are, an’ my demon couldn’t take it.” “Take it?” “Bein’ near you. I lost control. I never meant to hurt you.” She was silent for a long minute. “I…I know.” He couldn’t help himself; he turned to face her. “What?” “I’m not saying I’m not freaked, ‘cause consider me freaked, but…I know you didn’t meant to…I just know.” Spike was stunned speechless. “How?” A small, girlish smile tickled her mouth. Her eyes were haunted, but spoke the truth. No pain; only confusion and fear. Confusion he could deal with—he never wanted her to fear him—his earlier musings aside—and the thought that she did made him want to bathe in holy water. “Well, I was there for one thing,” she replied softly. “I don’t…you just scared me a little.” He nodded numbly. “Din’t mean to do that, either.” A pause. “Din’t mean to make you cry.” “I know.” A dubious huff tore past his lips. “Don’ mean to be cynical, sweets, but I was there, too. It was ten bloody minutes ago.” “Yeah.” Buffy glanced down. “I just…I saw your face. And on the way home, I remembered…well, some stuff…about you. Some stuff I’d…I dunno.” A short laugh rolled off her body. “You know, tonight is just…I stopped thinking about you a long time ago.” He winced. “Well…I made myself. I made myself forget everything. I never thought you’d ever really come back. I just thought…I thought you said you would just to get me to stop crying. I never thought you’d…” She met his eyes again tentatively. “I dunno what I thought. I just forced myself to stop thinking about it…and after a while, I did.” “What a brilliant second impression I’ve made.” Spike shook his head, trembling with self-disgust. “Touch you for the firs’ time in fourteen years, an’ I…Christ, Buffy I—” “I don’t understand why you’re back. Why now?” “You’re nearly eighteen.” She shot him a dry glance. “And how do you know that?” “Same way I know you cuddle up every night to the pig I gave you.” Buffy went rigid. “Okay, kinda stalkerish.” He smirked. “Baby, you have no idea.” “Why do I get the feeling that that’s supposed to be the half-full?” He’d started back for her without even realizing it; it was innate. Buffy was there, therefore he went to Buffy. There was little that freewill could do or say to alter his instinct. “’Cause you’re amazingly perceptive.” She glanced down once more and expelled a deep breath. “What you did to me,” she said softly, her voice landing somewhere between pained and confused with a smidge of awe that had him thunderstruck. “I…no one has ever…” Spike bit his tongue. He didn’t wager that she would take his word that he knew exactly how far she’d gone with her past boyfriends all too well. “I din’t mean for that to happen,” he said again. “I jus’ saw you. Suddenly, you were right in front of me, an’ I couldn’t handle it. ‘S not an excuse, luv. Nothin’ can excuse that. I jus’ din’t…I never would’ve gone near you ‘f I’d known that my control was that easy to snap.” Well, that was partially true. Spike’s control didn’t exactly have an upstanding reputation as it was. He’d simply been banking on the fact that he’d never before exercised control, or attempted to, before Buffy came into his life. And up until their fumbled reunion, he’d been convinced that he’d done an impressive job. There was a short, albeit heavy silence. “Why did you?” “What?” “Control…snap. I mean, I can…my mind is kind’ve…” She trailed off, unable to elaborate, but a charming bashfulness had taken over where fear once lived. Why? God, there was a question. Which version did she want? Might as well go for broke. Like he had anything left to lose. “Because, sweetheart, I’ve been waitin’ for you for fourteen years.” She went rigid again. Hell, he couldn’t blame her. “What?” “Chit’s gotta learn to listen. ‘F you think what I did…bringin’ you back to your mum while you were begging me to stay with you was easy, you’re off your bird.” He shook his head. “But it’s only fair, right? You knew the minute you saw me, too…you jus’ don’ know what it means.” “What?” He smiled wryly. “The eyes, pet. Yours glow gold for me. Not always…jus’ the firs’ time I saw you…an’ earlier tonight, when you looked at me again.” “Yours did, too.” She paused. “That’s not…that’s never happened before.” “I’d wager not.” “Does it mean…what does it mean?” He stilled. “Means you’re mine…jus’ as I am yours. That’s what it means. Only I couldn’t take you before…you were a li’l tyke. You’re not that anymore. An’ I’ve waited.” “You’ve waited.” “Yeh.” “For me.” “’S taken you forever, too. Trust me, pet, I’ve seen a lot of years in my time…none of them went by as slowly as these past fourteen.” Buffy wet her lips. “Why? Because of the glowy eyes thing?” “You could say that.” “Well…why didn’t you try to go find another pair of glowy eyes, if waiting for me was so terrible?” Spike smiled sardonically, unsure if she was hurt at the notion that waiting for her had been a chore, or simply curious. Buffy had a peculiar talent of spinning a sentence six different ways and making each ring true. He knew that much from having watched her. “’S not that easy, luv.” “Why?” He was silent for a minute. “Because it only happens once.” Buffy drew in a sharp breath, her eyes wide. “Oh.” A smile itched his mouth. “Appropriately put.” Buffy released a sigh, her eyes darting to the floor of her bedroom again. She didn’t say anything else concerning their link, which Spike found surprising, yet somehow expected. She might not be a vampire, she might not know the history, might not feel it as richly as he did, but she was a girl that had likewise found her mate. Whatever had happened between them had terrified her, and rightfully so, but at the same time, he could see that she was more bothered by the fact that she wasn’t as bothered as she thought she should be. And oh, he knew that feeling well. So well. Spike tentatively lifted his hand to the unseen barrier between them, smiling desolately when the wealth of energy tickled his skin with the impending threat of rejection. “You know,” he said softly, a lump forming in his throat when she raised her hand to mirror his. “We’ve gone full circle. You begged me not to leave you before, an’ now I’m forbidden from your home.” Her skin was so close to him. The demon, surprisingly, was quiet. He didn’t know why, and didn’t think to question it. There was calm in the atmosphere; perhaps, then, his earlier reaction had simply been a response to having her so close for the first time in as many years. Perhaps it had been a factor of the moment’s anticipation. God, he hoped so. Being this close to her without touching her was more torment than anything he’d ever endured. “You’re a vampire.” “Yeh.” “Well, I slay vampires. And I don’t let them into my house.” “I’d never hurt you, pet.” A pause. “Not on purpose. Never. ‘S not in my workin’. I wanted to stake myself earlier tonight.” “Because of the glowy eyes?” No, dammit. God, not jus’ because— He growled inwardly and cut off the thought before his subconscious could betray him. “No,” he snarled instead. “Not because of the eyes. You think, after all I’ve waited, all this time I’ve wanted you, that it’s only because you’re mine? You think—” “You don’t know me,” Buffy objected softly, but there was no austerity in her eyes. “How can you—” “I know you.” “Spike—” “I know you, Slayer. Trust me…I know you well.” Buffy drew in another breath and shuddered, a conflict strained behind her eyes. Her hand was nearly touching his through the invisible barrier, and he rattled at the warmth that emanated from her flesh. “What happened tonight…I’ve never felt anything like it. I never thought I could…” A soft blush touched her cheeks. “You scared me.” A pang struck his heart, but he was beyond explaining that whatever he’d done wasn’t his intention. She knew, and therefore, he could only offer penance. “I’m sorry.” “But I…I don’t even know how to explain it. With as terrified as I was…I…” Spike smiled slightly. “Enjoyed it?” Buffy’s blush deepened. “I felt like…it was right.” She frowned. “Is that because of the glowy eyes thing?” Slowly, very slowly, Spike felt the burden of guilt washing off his shoulders. Perhaps he had misunderstood everything, which wasn’t too far from the realm of believability. Perhaps the hurt had been more attributed to confusion. He’d been a demon too long to bother distinguishing pain from fear. And while he knew that, with as rough as he had been, she had been in pain, he took some measure of comfort in the fullness of her disclosure. She didn’t seem angry—rather scared and confused. But she was his mate, and the draw between wasn’t a one-way street. She was also an adolescent that had reached and shot beyond the age where most kids were thinking about sex during every spare second. Most of her chums, little innocent Willow included, had already experimented. He was surprised that Buffy hadn’t caught on. Then again, he could smell it, and he rather doubted that his Slayer would want any part of that particular ability. “Partly,” he replied honestly. “I’m drawn to you ‘cause of the…eyes. An’ because…” You’re Buffy, an’ a bloke can’t help but be drawn to you, ‘specially when he knows how amazing you are. “There’s a connection, yeh? You feel it.” He didn’t want to say the words ‘mate’ or ‘claim’ around her just yet. It was a delicate matter; something he felt he needed to ease her into. She nodded, and he about collapsed in relief. Now that she was standing before him, he wondered if this was what his demon had needed all along. Perhaps the bite could wait. Perhaps he just needed to be near her, and his earlier actions had simply been his demon’s way of telling him that. God, he hoped so. He wanted so much from her. He wanted Buffy to love him. He wanted the promise of her love before they were tied together forever. And if they had time, if his demon could wait, then he could build on the start of this thing they had. So strange how so much could change in the course of an hour. Knowing her up close, even as briefly as he had, had thoroughly challenged every prior conviction. If she could love him, then he could allow himself to love her. To cross that last finish line. Until she was his completely, he refused to let his heart into the matter—beyond how deeply he was already entrenched. He’d loved before, and it had nearly killed him. Buffy was unlike any woman—vampire or human—he’d ever encountered. Loving her would be beyond matters of the heart; it would entail giving himself over fully. Something he was all too willing to do, as long as he had the assurance that he would not suffer a broken heart for it. There was nothing else if Buffy rejected him. If the one woman on this planet that was destined to love him denied him that, he was truly a mock of his race. His race and hers. Buffy drew in a deep breath and combed her fingers through her hair. “Then…you don’t want to kill me?” He arched a skeptical brow. “Slayer—” “Me or my mother?” Harm Joyce? I’d sooner subject myself to a Pauly Shore marathon. Instead, he said, “Never.” “And my friends?” Might as well swear an oath to never drink from the tap, willin’ an’ otherwise, ever again. He shuddered inwardly. He hated it when that thought surfaced. It refused to stay dead and buried, which was exactly where it belonged. But faithfully, he said, “Never hurt anyone you don’ want me to, sweetheart.” And it was the truth. Goddammit, it was the truth. And he’d just said it. Given her all the ammunition she would ever need to keep him from killing again, acquaintance of hers or not. Spike sighed desolately, but made no move to retract the statement. Better to be defanged and loved than fanged and alone. This he’d known from the beginning, and had begun accepting since the day he watched her stake her first vampire. He couldn’t take anymore of the insufferable alone. He wanted Buffy, and he’d give up whatever he had to in order to have her. The next second, he swore it was all worth it. Awe shone through her eyes, and her pulse leapt with excitement. “Really?” He swallowed hard. Final treachery, mate. You’re an enemy to your own kind, now. Her eyes, though, sold him all over again. So worth it. “Yeh, luv,” he said softly. “’Course.” A pause, tentative at best. “I have no reason to trust you.” That made his demon snarl in objection, giving Spike all the means to agree with her. “I know.” Buffy wet her lips again, evidently having no grasp on how such small displays moved him, and nodded to herself. “Then,” she said softly, “I think you should come in.” Spike froze. “What?” “Come in. I’m…God, what am I doing? I’m inviting a vampire into my house. I must be the most careless slayer in history. Giles is so gonna kill—” He bounded into her room before she could talk herself into circles. The air hit him immediately—thoroughly Buffy Summers. Thoroughly his girl. It was like stepping into a painting he’d admired for years. She was a masterpiece, and she was letting him see the place where she lived. He knew it was as close to Heaven as he would ever get. Mr. Gordo stared at him from her bed. He smiled. Hello, pig. His eyes turned to the posters on her walls, the pile of dirty clothes shoved hastily in a dark corner, the chest of weapons that was poking out from under her bed, the pictures of her with her friends, and he felt at home. Bloody dream come true. “Spike, you totally can’t stay. My mom will pull a massive wig if she comes in here and there’s a strange man in my bedroom. I just wanted you to—” “I know, pet. I’ve jus’…” But there were no words to describe what he was feeling. No words that would do anything more than terrify her. “I…” “I’m not sure how to feel about any of this,” Buffy said carefully. “I really don’t. And I haven’t decided whether or not…God, I’m so confused.” “I know,” he said again. “But I…” She studied him for a long minute, then did something he would, in a million years, never have expected. She closed the gap between them, cupped his face, and kissed him. Spike was stunned for a second, then growled as he felt her lips moving over his. He wasted no time with teasing nibbles that alluded to what he truly wanted. He drank her in fully, plundered her mouth with his tongue and drew her taste into him. He grasped her shoulders and pulled her against him, thrusting his pelvis into hers. She pulled back just slightly. “Spike—” “Mine,” he snarled in turn, primitive, drawing her mouth back to his. “My Buffy—” “I—mmfff.” For a few wondrous seconds, there was nothing but her taste. The sweet flavor of her kisses. He could feel pressure rising, heard his inner William’s screams not to lose himself again, but it all went numb against the glorious feel of her body against his. His mouth broke from hers, the hum of her blood calling him home. He whispered her name into her skin, then trailed a hot path of kisses to her throat. His fangs tingled from the rhythmic rush of her pulse, but he made no attempt to sample her; rather enjoyed nibbling at his chalice, sending his demon into a peaceful lull at the promise of what would eventually be his. For a few seconds, at least, until his fangs wanted a personal taste. His bumpies burst through before he realized what was happening, and Buffy pushed him away with force. Spike looked at her for a minute in confusion before his eyes widened, and he glanced down. Bugger all. Forget all that rot about understanding him. He couldn’t be around her now. Not without losing it. “I…I think,” she said, panting harshly. The air was perfumed once more with the tantalizing scent of her arousal, sending his demon spiraling. “I think it’s best…if you leave now.” Good going, mate. Your girl kisses you, an’ you let your fangs do the thinkin’. It was good, though. Being near her was intoxicating, and he felt he’d already lost so much of himself. The rate of his change was terrifying; the life he loved to live. The life he’d been living happily since the night Drusilla helped him out of his grave. Even as Buffy’s unclaimed mate, he’d still relished in the kill from the shadows. He’d taken lives with nothing resembling remorse. Suddenly she was near and he knew the taste of her kisses, and he was willing to hand over everything that had once made him what he was. More importantly, who he was. And despite his need for her, he wasn’t ready for that. “Yeh,” he agreed. “Buffy, I—” “Just…I feel like I’m all…” She shook her head, laughing nervously. “I’ve never been out of control…you make me feel like I could lose control.” The admission graced him with warmth. “Know the feelin’, kitten.” Her gaze burned him with passion. “I mean really lose control…when you touched me…” Buffy stopped when she realized what she’d said and flushed brightly, glancing down. She was quite possibly the most adorable creature he’d ever seen. “I’m just…I need some space. And yeah, inviting you in and then kissing you? Not the best indicators of the needage of space, but I do.” She shivered. “I don’t know what I’m feeling…only that you seem to know everything sans confusion.” Spike didn’t say anything for a minute; merely nodded. “I understand.” He moved for the window. “I…I know I’m not practicin’ what I preach here, luv, but I’d never hurt you. Never. I’d rather stake myself.” “I know.” A pause. “That’s what scares me.” Fair enough. “There are some ancients in town,” he said as he climbed back onto the trusty tree branch. “A bunch of the nastiest vamps you’ll ever meet. For what it’s worth, that’s…I couldn’t wait as long as I thought to come for you.” “Oh,” she said. “’S not like I wanted to wait,” he assured her. “’d jus’ promised myself I would. Bloody family got in the way.” An’ judgin’ by what waitin’ did to me, let’s count our blessings. “Have your Watcher look up Angelus an’ the Order of Aurelius.” That was placing him in danger of scrutiny, too, but he didn’t care. His life with them was over, and the past couldn’t be changed by wishful thinking. He couldn’t make her love him, and irregardless, he wanted no secrets between them. None. Buffy hugged herself. “Okay.” Spike paused, then turned to her once more. “’m sorry, kitten.” “I know. Me, too.” He tilted his head. “For what?” She pondered a minute, shrugged, but didn’t answer. There was no good answer. But it was there. The want of something. It was there even if she didn’t know it. He took some cold comfort in that. Cold comfort was better than nothing, and aside his pride and jaded hope, it was all he had. To be continued in Chapter Nine: Careful Where You Stand… |