| End of the Bloody Line. Bloodshedverse Round Robin. by BSV added |
| Chapter #17 - Chapter 17 Spikeslovebite |
| CHAPTER 17 By spikeslovebite (Tam) **SQUISHIES** to my Goddess of a Beta Megan_Peta for showing me the way :D All standard disclaimers apply herein. Thud… Thud… “WILLOW!” Spike’s roar of anguish was deafening. He rained blow after blow against the barrier, hoping to somehow weaken the Gypsy vamp’s hold on the weakening girl. Jenny’s maniacal laughter enraged him further and he began to kick at it viciously. Sparks flew around him as he doubled his efforts, but all he could hear was the steady decline of Willow’s heartbeat. Thud… Th-thud… “GOD DAMMIT, RED!” he bellowed. “FIGHT HER!” Willow’s eyes slammed open, coal black orbs without a hint of white to disturb the smooth obsidian surface. A surge of static crackled and lifted her fiery hair to stand on end. A sneer of seething determination creased her face as she glared down at her former teacher. “Athena, I beseech thee, repel this evil from my presence!” she spat out, her voice laced with contempt for her former idol. The power that had been building steadily within suddenly exploded from her small frame, destroying the protective barrier and breaking the teacher’s life-sucking hold on her. Jenny was thrown violently back, slamming into Spike and sending both of them skidding across the debris strewn floor. Willow, completely drained by her efforts and her rolling eyes their normal emerald green once more, sank into a dead faint. Recovering first, Spike scrambled to his feet and hauled the bitch up by her hair. Slamming her head into his upraised knee, he rejoiced in the sound of snapping bones and breaking teeth. Her jaw flopped uselessly, only guttural grunts issuing forth instead of the incantations she needed to disable her opponent. With a mindless scream, Jenny flung herself at the blond vampire, scratching and clawing and trying to bite him with her decimated teeth. Although Willow’s power surge had drained her substantially, her rage gave her strength. Spike knew instinctively that he had to put her away fast, before she regained the use of her magic. He was fueled with a burning desire to obliterate her for daring to touch those that his Slayer cared for. With every punch and kick, he drove her back towards the smashed in front of the shop. “Not so high and mighty now, are you?” With a snarl, he hit her with an uppercut that sent her sailing up and back to land on the smoldering remains of the De Soto. “Wooo hooo, witchy woman, see how high she flies!” he sang out gleefully. “Get your skanky Romany ass off my car, bitch!” Jenny lunged towards him, a sliver of wood that she had managed to scoop up from the hood of the car in her hand. Swinging wildly, she tried to drive him away from her. Dodging her attempts to stake him, Spike decided he had played with her enough. Knocking the wood from her grasp, he wrapped his hands around her throat. Holding her aloft, he grinned unrepentantly and began to squeeze. Jenny fought him, kicking and writhing in his grip. Reaching down deep for one last scrap of her mystical ability, she slammed a hand down over his chest and forced her broken jaw to move enough so that she could mutter the incantation that would set his long-dead heart aflame. Grimly fighting the burning sensation, Spike continued to tighten his grip, desperate to finish her off before she burnt him from the inside out. The two combatants struggled in a macabre dance of death, neither noticing the beaten and bloody figure of Rupert Giles rising up from the other side of the De Soto. With calm deliberation, he leveled the crossbow on his arm and drew a bead on the two vampires. Shudders of pain and indecision wracked his battered frame. He could do it. He could take both of them out with one perfectly executed bolt from his weapon. Willow was still unconscious and Buffy was in pursuit of Xander. No one need ever know. The Watcher’s mind was made up. He took careful aim and tightened his finger on the trigger. An instant before he pulled, his eyes met the burning blue fire in those of William the Bloody. Jenny’s hand fell from Spike’s chest. She looked down, her once beautiful face creased with confusion as she stared at the slim piece of wood protruding from just above her left breast. Turning, she confronted her former lover with a leer of disdain. “Missed aga—“ Before the boast could be finished, she exploded in a shower of ashes that glittered and sparked as they floated in the air. A sudden shift of wind swirled them, twirling the cloud aimlessly before it moved to hover over Willow’s prone form. Settling over her, it seemed to be absorbed into her pale flesh. With a shocked gasp for air and a horrified expression, Willow shot upwards. Spike dropped weakly to his knees, hand fisted over his scorched chest. “Bloody fuckin’ hell, that ‘urts,” he ground out through clenched teeth. Someone knelt beside him and he looked up into the grieving eyes of Buffy’s watcher. “Nice shootin’, Tex,” he said with a knowing lift of his scarred brow. “Indeed. Make sure I don’t regret my decision.” Ripper was still there in the timbre of his voice. Grinning, Spike forced himself to his feet. “You can be a right scary bloke at times, you know that, Watcher?” He steadied himself and then started limping towards the wrecked entrance. “You’re going after Buffy.” Stating the obvious, Giles followed after him. Spike shrugged, not bothering to hide the wince of pain. “She might not be able to finish the job. Wanna be there just in case she can’t.” God his chest hurt. And why the HELL was his dangly bits all tingly? The bint hadn’t touched him there, yet he felt like someone had stuffed itch weed down his pants. “While I have complete faith in my Slayer’s abilities under normal circumstances, I fear you may be right about this. Xander was her friend. You need blood.” The abrupt change of subject brought Spike to a halt and he turned warily. “Yeah, well, I’ll be alright.” Even as weak as she was, that Gypsy tart had sported some powerful mojo. His hand pressed against his crisped chest once more. A bared wrist was suddenly thrust under his nose. The expression on Giles’ face brooked no argument. “Drink.” Spike goggled at him. “How hard did you hit your head when Buffy threw you through that window, mate?” He shoved the arm away from his face, only to have it come right back. “You’re weak and you can’t help Buffy in this condition. Now, drink.” “I’d rather bite the little witch,” he suggested with a hopeful glance at Willow. Giles gave him a hard look and Willow scrambled to her feet with a frightened squeak, her hair still emitting intermittent sparks. He rolled his eyes and gave in. “Oh, alright!” Grabbing the proffered wrist, he vamped and gave it a lick to get the blood flowing. When Giles jumped in reaction, Spike glared at him. “And don’t be gettin’ any ideas, Watcher. I know I’m a handsome bloke, but you ain’t my type,” he snarked. “Will you bloody well just… OW!” Giles yelled. “You did that on purpose, you pillock!” Grinning around the fangs embedded in the older man’s wrist, Spike looked up at him and fluttered his eyelashes innocently. Then he began to drink. All pretense of humor faded when the Watcher’s blood hit his tongue. Spike tasted power. Power mixed with residual magiks from Ripper’s checkered past. It raced through him, giving his already enhanced healing a much needed boost. After three long pulls, he forced himself to stop. Licking the wounds closed, he looked at Giles with a healthy measure of respect. “Thank you.” Giles pulled out his handkerchief and bound his wrist carefully. “All for the greater good,” he muttered. “Right.” With a swirl of leather, the fully healed vampire bounded over the wreckage and landed on the sidewalk. “You and Red should head back to Buffy’s house. We’ll find you there after it’s finished.” “Spike?” He turned one last time. “Wot?” “Good luck.” ~*~*~ At a construction site a few blocks away, Buffy was confronting one of her worst nightmares. Xander. As badly as she wanted to believe that there was still something of the adorably goofy boy she had once known floating around inside him, she had to force herself to accept that Xander-- the Xander that had belonged to her and Willow-- was gone. In his place was a cocky, swaggering nightmare; a fledgling with far more power than he knew how to deal with. Jenny’s dark gift had given him far more than eternity; she had passed on some of her magiks as well. He wasn’t sure what to do with it, but he was learning quickly. Oh, yes. Very quickly. “So, Buff,” he said conversationally. “How do you like me now? Am I good enough for you now that I don’t have a pulse? I mean, first Angel and now Spike. Not too hard to figure out little Buffy has a big hard-on for the walking dead, huh?” “Glad to see you picked a place with lots of nice, sharp pieces of wood lying around,” she returned, ignoring his insults as she did a quick scan of the immediate area. “Guess your secret fetish makes you as much of a monster as I am, doesn’t it?” Xander sneered. “Maybe, but at least I’m pretty and I have excellent fashion sense.” He ran his hands over his chest. “You don’t like the new look? My sire helped me pick it out.” He wore dark brown leather pants and a matching vest without a shirt underneath. His neck was encircled with a studded leather collar with a short length of silver chain dangling from it. “You look like a biker’s bad dream, Xander,” Buffy sneered. “Did Mommy remember to slap a diaper on you before she dressed you? ‘Coz I just gotta say… EWW!” That struck a nerve. “Don’t talk about my dark jewel that way!” he bellowed. “You aren’t fit to lick her boots.” “Oh, I wouldn’t want to take your job away, Xand.” Buffy was battling physical and emotional exhaustion, praying that he couldn’t sense how weak she actually felt. The earlier fighting had taken a lot out of her and she was worried about Spike. They had been circling each other warily, each hoping to gauge the other’s weakness, Decided the best course of action would be to put him down as quickly as possible, Buffy struck the first blow. She blinked back tears as she delivered a punishing kick to his face. Don’t think about the first day of school when he fell at your feet, his wide, chocolate brown eyes staring up at you. The kick was followed with a series of punches that landed on his head and chest, driving him back. Don’t think about when he asked you to the Spring Fling and the hurt on his face when you had turned him down. Dropping down, she swept his legs from under him, hearing the sickening crunch as his head hit the pavement. Don’t remember that he had given you back her life after the Master had contemptuously dropped you to a watery death in two inches of water. He rolled to his feet, a length of two by four in his hand. Buffy tried to duck but the club caught her shoulder. Before she could even cry out he hauled back and hit her with it again, this time on the side of the head. First blood flew and perfumed the night air. Xander smacked his lips and grinned. “Mmm! Slayer blood. Can’t wait to see what everyone is raving about.” Staggering a little, Buffy shook off the dizziness and blocked his next blow, ripping the wood from his hands and breaking it over her knee. Grasping the impromptu stake in her fist, she jumped over a pile of bricks and flung herself at him. He caught her mid-flight and tossed her into the side of the small trailer that housed the sites office. The trailer slipped off its blocks and listed drunkenly with a Buffy-shaped dent in the side. Xander walked over and pulled her up by her hair, swinging her around and throwing her into an I-beam. Buffy collapsed to her knees at the concrete base, panting weakly as she glared up at him. “That all you got?” she gasped out, her bloodied bangs hanging in her eyes. Smirking at her, he swaggered over. Before he could grab her again, Buffy threw herself at his legs. They rolled in a biting, clawing tangle of arms and legs, coming to rest near a pile of sand with Buffy on top, her knees pinning Xander’s arms to the ground. Buffy whipped a stake out of her waistband and slammed it downwards, squeezing her eyes shut with a sob as she waited for the impact and its resulting cloud of ash. With a derisive laugh, he flung her over his head to land with a bone-jarring thud on her back, knocking the wind from her. Blinking away the pretty impressive light show dancing behind her eyelids, she struggled to get her breath back, hazel eyes never leaving him as he stalked around her prone form. He gave a high pitched laugh that she found eerily reminiscent of his hyena possession, running his tongue over his fangs as he leered at her. “You were right the other day in the basement, you know. I remember every bit of it. I almost had you that day,” he said. “The feel of you under me, the smell of your fear.” Xander closed his eyes and made a point of shivering as he tasted and savored the most delicious memory of his hyena possession. Reaching down, he fondled his growing erection. “That memory fueled my pathetic wet dreams for a long, long time, but no more fantasizing about it. I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you scream, Buffy. You’re finally gonna belong to me. Forever.” Her eyes narrowed a split second before she buried her booted feet in his crotch. With a high pitched scream he folded, collapsing onto his knees. Buffy flipped herself to her feet, another stake falling from her sleeve to nestle in her palm. Before she could strike she was tackled from behind. Xander gave a weak chortle of glee as he watched three of his dark goddess’ minion’s pile on top of the downed slayer. He struggled to his feet and made his way to them; with a motion of his head he instructed them to drag her to her feet. The two strongest held her by her arms between them. “I forgot to tell you that I invited a few friends to our party,” he lisped, wincing as he tried to strut in front of her. Buffy’s eyes sparked with hatred as he moved in, crowding close and sniffing at her hair and down her neck. “Didn’t Mommy Dearest tell you not to play with your food?” she jeered, hoping to piss him off. Xander pushed her tangled hair back over her shoulder, baring her throat to him, laughing when she held her head high and stubbornly refused to acknowledge the threat of his presence at her neck. He began running his tongue over her fragrant flesh, leaving a slimy trail of saliva. When he reached Spike’s marks, a low growl erupted from him. Jerking back, he rubbed the scar with his fingertip as if he was trying to erase it. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll wonder what you ever saw in him. I’m going to take great pleasure in biting right here,” he gave the raised marks a vicious pinch, “when I turn you, Slayer.” While Buffy struggled against the two minions that held her, the third vamp standing behind her spoke up. “Are you insane, dude? You don’t turn slayers. It’s like, a rule,” he said, glaring at the mistress’ new pet. He had only been turned by Angelus a few months ago, but even he knew this was a bad idea. Xander ignored the upstart and was lowering his head with a sadistic grin when a soft voice interrupted him. “He’s right, you know. Mustn’t bring a slayer over. It never ends well.” Buffy looked frantically over Xander’s shoulder. When she saw the speaker she smiled with relief. “Drusilla!” “Hello, sunshine.” Drusilla gave her a beatific smile. Her form had more substance this time and a shimmering light sparkled around her. She drifted forward, her pristine white gown floating around her slender form. A frown marred her beautiful face and with a wave of her hand the two vampires holding Buffy exploded, their ashes hovering thickly in the air. The third, the one who had objected to Xander’s intent to turn Buffy, whirled and began to run. He took only two steps before his remains were drifting to rest at her feet. Drusilla giggled; the sound lighthearted and carefree as she stepped around the piles of dust. “Such fun, even if a bit messy,” she stated emphatically. Reaching Buffy, she moved to stand in front of her. She glared up at Xander, a strange light glowing in her dark blue eyes, along with the barest hint of pity. “Poor Jester,” she cooed, her slender hands drifting over but never touching his face. “Ever the fool. Once again you’ve danced down the wrong path.” Xander growled and lunged at her, a comical look of surprise on his fangy face when he moved right through her. Her expression changed from sympathetic to incensed. “Tut!” She shook a finger under his nose. “Bad, bad dog! Look what your jealousy has wrought!” “You crazy bitch!” Xander snarled. “My mistress will squash your boy under her perfect feet. When she joins me, we--.” With a howl of pain, he grabbed his head. “NO!” Drusilla faced him with a fey smile. “Your mistress is no more, Jester. Gone… Just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Done in by the Huntsman all wrapped in tweed. You know this. You can feel her loss, can you not? And soon it will be your turn to take a bow.” “No! She promised me. She promised that we would be together for eternity.” Xander trembled with rage, his eyes coming to rest on Buffy. “This is all your fault, you bitch!” Buffy had slipped weakly to the ground once Dru had gotten rid of her captors. She was hurting badly, positive that something inside might be damaged from Xander’s game of Buffy hacky sack. She could feel Spike drawing near, but knew he wouldn’t reach her in time. Her only hope was to hold Xander off until he got there. Hearing the dark-haired vampire’s enraged words, she groaned and attempted to gain her feet once more. When Xander leapt towards the slayer with deadly intent, Drusilla moved to intercept. Pressing a hand on his chest, she froze him in place. He hovered in midair, wearing a stunned expression and wriggling fruitlessly. “She was never meant for you, Jester. Her fate has been twined with my William since her birth. You are the mistake. The aberration. Soon Daddy’s mistakes will all be merely whispers on the wind.” The gates crashed open and Spike stormed through. Without missing a step, he headed straight for Buffy, scooping her up as she fell. “Spike,” Buffy breathed, slumping gratefully into the safe haven of his arms. “Are you alright? She didn’t hurt you, did she?” In spite of her own wounds she ran anxious hands over him in search of hidden injuries. “’M fine, pet. Ol’ Rupes fixed me up all proper with a hit of B pos,” he reassured her. “Settle down, now. Need to look you over.” His gentle poking and prodding hurt, but she suffered through it for his sake. The deep cut on her temple caused him the most concern. It still bled sluggishly. A low, constant growl rumbled through him as he cataloged the damage done to his slayer. When he turned to go after Xander, Buffy laid a restraining hand on his arm. “Don’t. Stay with me,” she whimpered tiredly, her head lolling against his shoulder. “Let Dru…” “Buffy!” Xander cried out, slyly softening his voice as his demon visage melted away. “Don’t let them do this to me, Buffy. Help me!” he whined. Burying her face in Spike’s neck, she burst into sobs, anguished by the fate of her once best friend. Spike tightened his hold on her, his hand finding the back of her head and pressing her deeper into the cove of his shoulder. “Dru, pet, finish him. Slayer’s right knackered and I want to get her home,” he called out to his sire. “As you wish, my Spike.” And with that she dug her hand into Xander’s chest, ignoring his pained screams as she broke through his ribcage. Worming her hand around his shriveled black heart, she ripped it free and held it aloft in her dainty fist. It was the last thing Xander Harris saw. With one last horrified shriek, his dust rained down to be tracked through by heavy work boots in the days to come. Wiping her hands together with a delicate shudder, Drusilla made her way to them and knelt down. “Did I do well, Spike?” she begged. Spike swallowed a knot of regret, knowing instinctively that after this night he would never see his ripe, wicked plum again. “You did beautifully, luv. Couldn’t have done it better myself.” She smiled at Spike; a gamin’s smile that lit her whole face. “It’s over then.” “It’s over,” he agreed. Lifting Buffy into his arms, he stood up with a tired sigh. “It’s finally over. We can rest now.” Drusilla clapped her hands softly. “I shall go to my Angel, now! Won’t that be a grand party?” He smiled, missing her already. “That it will, poodle. Say ‘ello to the ol’ poof for me won’t you?” Buffy lifted her head. Her face was covered with blood and wet with tears, but strangely peaceful as she returned Drusilla’s inquiring stare. “I’m fine, Dru. Well, I will be soon, anyway. Thank you for…For doing what I couldn’t.” Her bottom lip quivered and Spike dropped a comforting kiss on it. “C’mon, luv. Let’s get you home, yeah?” “A moment, my Spike,” Dru said. Her hand found the tangled gold of the slayer’s hair, seemingly mesmerized by its shiny highlights as she stroked it. She leaned in close and whispered in Buffy’s ear. “Magic warms the heart, my sunshine. It can bring back to life what has been dead for many decades, but only for a little while. You only have until the coming dawn, so you must act swiftly.” Buffy struggled to wrap her exhausted wits around the cryptic words. When understanding dawned, her eyes flew wide and her jaw dropped open. “How..?” Drusilla placed a finger over her lips in a shushing gesture. “Shh, my darling girl. It is foretold.” Taking a step back, she gave them one last smile and a cheerful wave. “Goodbye, my lovelies!” They blinked and she was gone. Buffy tightened her arms around her mate’s neck. Flushed with the news that Drusilla had imparted, she ordered him home. They hadn’t much time before dawn. ~*~*~ Her aching body clean, her wounds dressed, Buffy lay back and allowed her vampire to coddle her. She relaxed, secure in the knowledge that her mother was feeling much better, Kendra was dealing, and that Willow and Giles had made it safely to their respective homes. Now all she had to worry about was seducing a vampire that seemed bent on treating her like a piece of delicate porcelain. Spike set her empty teacup on the dresser and turned off all but the tiny lamp on the nightstand. “Need anything else, pet?” he asked, one hand on the door knob as he anticipated yet another trip downstairs for some tidbit she might fancy. “Just you,” she answered patting the bed beside her with a slight smile. “C’mon, get comfy. Now that everything was settled, Spike realized that he felt just the tiniest bit ‘off’. Nothing specific. The hand-shaped burn mark on his chest still stung. That he understood. It was the tingling warmth that lingered below his belt that had him worried. Well… Not really worried, since it wasn’t painful. It was actually kind of… Arousing. One look at her bruised and battered figure had him chiding himself for the direction his thoughts were taking. “Buffy.” Shaking his head ruefully, he made his way to the side of the bed and sat down to remove his boots. “Just for a little while, do you hear me? Then it’s off to the basement with me, because you need to rest up.” Damned stubborn vampire, she thought darkly. He was bound and determined not to make love with her tonight. Drusilla’s warning rang in her head. Dawn would be breaking soon. It was clearly time to bring out the big guns. Blinking up a good batch of tears, she wet her bottom lip and pushed it out in a wobbly pout. Turning to continue his lecture on the merits of healing sleep, Spike cursed. “Bloody hell, you evil bint! Not the tears AND the lip,” he sputtered. “That’s dirty pool, Slayer.” “Then stay. Please, just until I fall asleep?” she pleaded. He eyed her warily, melting inside at the sight of her bruised face gazing up at him so hopefully. Just once it would be nice to be able to deny her something, he thought grouchily. Gritting his teeth and stretching out beside her, he pointed an unrelenting finger at her nose. “Just ‘til you fall asleep, got me? And no funny business!” “Mm-kay.” With a wide, innocent smile, Buffy turned off the small lamp and curled against his side. She rested her head on his chest, reveling in the gentle fingers sifting through her hair and the occasional kiss that he pressed on her forehead. Spike honestly intended to give her a few minutes to fall asleep and then slip away to the cot in the basement, but the stress of the previous night’s battle and the pull of the approaching dawn were too great. Eventually his hand stilled in her hair and he drifted off. He was jerked from sleep when the not-unpleasant tingle in his groin swelled to a fiery crescendo. His eyes flew open to be greeted by the glorious sight of his slayer, head thrown back and bare breasts heaving as she undulated on his throbbing cock. “Thought I told you no funny business, Slayer,” he ground out through clenched teeth as he bucked his hips up against her. Somehow the sly little minx had managed to strip him to his skin without waking him. Buffy grunted from the impact of his thrust. “Ungh! Does it… oh God…look like I’m pl-playing around, Vampire?” she quipped, her voice breathless as she continued to ride him. His hands found her hips and squeezed, leaving faint bruises in their wake as they slid up and over her torso to cup her up thrust breasts. She arched her back, her hands coming up to cover his as he tugged and rolled the taut pink tips. Reaching up to clasp her neck, he dragged her down and crushed her mouth with his. Using his grip on the back of her neck, he tilted her head to deepen the kiss even further. Moaning in response to the havoc he was wreaking on her senses, Buffy tightened her knees on his hips and rolled until he was on top, his weight pressing her into the soft mattress. She stretched languorously beneath him and burrowed her face in his neck. “Mmm… You smell sooo good,” she breathed, biting the hard point of his chin. He smiled down at her. “I should since I stole your soap.” “Never smelled this good on me.” Moving to his neck, she took a tiny bit of skin between her teeth and worried it lightly. “I could just eat you right up.” Spike groaned. The heat in his loins seemed to triple with each tiny nip she took of his flesh. Bracing himself on his forearm, he slipped his free hand behind her knee and lifted it, driving deeply into her with slow, controlled strokes that he knew from their past encounters would drive her wild. Her reaction was immediate and intense. “Spike! God… Yesss…” she hissed. She clamped down tightly on his cock with her inner muscles, wringing a strangled growl from his throat. Her sharp nails dug into his shoulders as she strained up to meet each powerful thrust. “Christ, Buffy…” His ragged, unnecessary breaths matched hers. He dug his knees into the mattress, his pelvis lifting hers completely off the bed as he drove them relentlessly towards the pinnacle of completion. Buffy’s skin felt too tight for her body. She was dancing on the verge, soft, broken whimpers torn from her as she reached desperately for release from the mounting tension that gripped her. He could sense what she needed, could see it in the way she turned her face away and tilted her head in a subconsciously submissive gesture that brought his demon raging forth. He lowered his head and fastened his mouth around his marks, the hard suction he used to bring the blood to the surface making her tense with delicious anticipation. The slight sting as he bit down sent her flying over into the abyss of ecstasy, unable to resist the double penetration of his hard cock and sharp fangs. She came so hard that the upsurge of her hips to meet his lifted them both from the bed. Tremors shook her lower body, causing her to tighten and release rhythmically, milking his wide girth and driving him into a frenzy. Her blood on his tongue and the intensity of her orgasm shattered Spike’s control. One last grinding thrust and he came undone, howling her name as he drenched her womb with his seed. The fact that it was warmer than usual didn’t escape him, but he pushed the annoying thought away for later. Spike’s arms gave out and he dropped, his body draping limply over hers, his still twitching cock buried in her warmth. He smiled when her small hands clutched weakly at the hard muscles of his bottom, holding him tightly in place. He shifted slightly to the side so he wasn’t squashing her and buried his face in her sweaty neck, tongue coming out to swipe lazily over his bite. She shivered and sighed in reaction, turning her head to give him a sleepy smile. “Love you,” she whispered. “Love you so much.” He kissed her; forehead, nose, and finally the moist warmth of her swollen lips. “Love you, too. Forever,” he vowed. The sun burst over the horizon and they both slipped into a dreamless, healing sleep, while within a warm, fertile womb, a tiny seed took root. |