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| In Omne Tempus - Companion of the Night by Holly (1 Review) | | - - - abc |  | | | Chapter Ten
Companion of the Night
Buffy burst out of her home two minutes before sunset. She couldn’t help it; patience wasn’t exactly a strong suit. The town was going to be bustling tonight, anyway; demonic activity always seemed to be on the up when it came time for a school function.
She just hoped that Spike didn’t go to the Bronze, expecting to find her. While a very small part of her lamented her decision to opt out of teenage fun, the larger, more vocal part was screaming in anticipation for the night’s patrol. She wanted to see Spike so badly. Wanted to ask him about the night before. Wanted to demand answers over what Giles had discovered throughout the day. Wanted to know if everything he’d told her was true, or if he was just shaping her up to be his third prized kill.
The first hour or so was disappointing. With every dash of movement, her eyes convinced her that she’d seen a flash of platinum hair. No such luck. Her nose would tell her that the air was tainted with leather and cigarettes, but then she’d realize that some residents were barbequing tonight.
“Stupid no show vampire,” she muttered, kicking at the ground. Men were always irritating when they didn’t read minds.
Nix that. Men=always irritating.
The night was looking to be a complete waste.
“Could be worse,” she muttered to herself. “Could be raining.” With that, she tossed a warning glance to the skies. “And don’t you dare take that as an invitation to rain just because I enjoy random movie quoteage.”
God, how lame was she? Party night at school, and she ditched for some quality time with Sunnydale’s resident dead and, more often, undead. All with the guised hope of running into a vampire that likely intended to kill her the next time he saw her.
You don’t believe that.
No, she really didn’t. But she wished she did. It would certainly make her life a whole lot easier. Despite whatever Giles had found, there was something about Spike that failed to scream ‘dangerous predator’ where she was concerned—and that was a lot, considering what he’d done to her the night before. No, the thing with Spike was much more complicated than she wanted to consider. He was her enemy, but he couldn’t be, because he belonged to her.
And God, wasn’t that the creepiest thing ever? She owned a vampire? She was possessive over a vampire? A vampire that had, for all intents and purposes, violated her the day before? Since when?
No violation. You were more scared than hurt, and you know it.
It should have hurt. How could something so wrong, so intrinsically wrong, have felt so right? That was messed up. She was messed up. She needed some serious psychotherapy and a nice two weeks in a room with padded walls. Spike had stuck his fingers inside her sans permission, and that dirty little part of her that she wanted to stake had liked it.
She felt so unclean for having liked it. It was one of the female commandments, right? Sex crimes were so not to be enjoyed.
This wasn’t a crime. He’s yours.
Guh. Yes. She was, without a doubt, entirely messed up.
And Spike was pissing her off for refusing to appease this insane need to see him by, well, not showing up.
Probably skipped town, she thought bitterly, kicking at another headstone. She didn’t believe it, of course. She was just angry with herself for being less than what she felt she should be. Angry, confused, and something inside her was desperate for the awesome healing power of Spike’s embrace.
Which totally made no sense, as he’d never held her, and they’d officially been reacquainted now for twenty-four hours.
Why the hell wasn’t she more wigged over what had happened? Why did she want him after the massive wrong he’d committed against her? Why, why, why did she need to see him again? Did she crave that sort of abuse? Was she just that cursed as a Slayer that she needed the comfort of being cursed as a woman, too?
That was all stupid. She’d let him into her house. She’d spoken with him. She’d kissed him, and she’d let his fangs near her throat. Near the international vampire no-fly zone. And when she’d pushed him away the night before, it hadn’t been in horror, as she’d tried to convince herself.
No, it was more due to the fact that what she’d told him was true.
Control was slipping. She wanted him. She wanted him badly. She wanted him in ways she shouldn’t even know about, being as woefully inexperienced as she was. She wanted him, and she didn’t know him. She wanted him, and he was a vampire.
It was so, so wrong.
Typical Buffy blunder, she mused irritably. Be the ice queen to every normal guy who comes on to you, but warm up to Mr. No-Pulse.
What in the world was she thinking?
That he’s gorgeous, sexy, considerate, and totally into you.
He’d followed her home, left when she asked him to, and all with this look in his eyes that all but begged for a stake to find its way into his heart after his fumbled first take on their long awaited reunion. That was what she kept coming back to. The knowledge, the instinct, that whatever had happened had been the last thing he intended.
Yes, I believe we’ve sufficiently beaten this to the ground.
Bah. She just wished he’d show up so her jumbled thoughts could be placed on hold for the creation of more memories that she could agonize over tomorrow.
Buffy was halfway to the exit of Restfield Cemetery when her stomach suddenly twisted with the familiar forewarning of nearby vampires. Her heart leapt into her throat and she turned around slowly, stake raised.
Please. Please, oh please.
But it wasn’t Spike. No, it was a woman. A tall, pale woman whose physique resembled a coat rack. Vampire, no doubt, but not one that enjoyed eating.
Callista Flockheart meets Morticia Addams.
And there was something unsettlingly familiar about her eyes.
“Ohhh,” the vampire said, head tilting as she appraised the Slayer. “My dolly’s all grown up. Bad dolly. One must ask before taking all the jam.”
Buffy blinked. “Huh?”
Morticia took a step forward, her gaze gleaming. “So this is the princess,” she said, still talking dazedly to herself. “The little ray of sunshine that stole my William’s heart. You’d do best to heed me, dearie. Miss Edith gets frightfully upset when the children don’t pay her mind.”
It was as though someone had dropped a blanket over her senses. Two more vampires emerged from behind the same mausoleum. One a fierce looking woman with blonde hair, the other a tall, towering bulk of a guy with more forehead than face. He appeared to be aiming for that sort of ‘tall dark and handsome’ look that so many women fell for, and it was obvious he was more than a little pleased with himself.
“So this is she?” the blonde said, her tone unimpressed. “God, Spike does know how to pick them, doesn’t he?”
Buffy’s heart pounded. Spike?
“Oh I don’t know,” the male said, quirking his head to the side. “She looks…feisty. Bet she tastes ripe and sweet.”
Buffy scrunched up her nose. Okay, crude much?
“Is she mute?” the blonde barked.
“No,” the Slayer snapped. “Just bored.”
The blonde’s brows arched appraisingly. “We could always kill you and have it over with.”
“She stole my William away, Daddy,” Morticia pouted, tugging at the man’s arm. “She’s a nasty dolly. Can we eat her up?”
The tall guy ran his eyes down Buffy’s body in a way that had her all but shivering in disgust. “Oh yeah,” he drawled. “Bet she’s nice and…tight. Spike wouldn’t have broken her in just yet. He’s too much of a wimp when it comes to these things. That pussy’s all seasoned for the taking.” His dancing gaze met her horrified face, and he blew her a mocking kiss. “Isn’t that right, Buff? Spike just couldn’t find his dick to stick it in you, much less claim you before you wander out to meet all kinds of dark, bloodthirsty nasties. And he has the audacity to call you his mate.”
“Okay,” Buffy said, stepping back. “Number One: Ew. Number Two: You’re a pig. Number Three: Ew again. Number Four: How the hell do you know my name?”
“You killed the Master,” the blonde spat maliciously. “What? You think that kind of thing just gets forgotten?”
“Well, seeing as it was three years ago…yeah. I can’t even remember what he looked like.” She pretended to think. “Oh, except he had bad breath and squealed like a girl.”
The blonde snarled at that and all but leapt forward. The tall hulk of a guy kept her from charging. “Now that was uncalled for. See,” the male vamp said, taking a slow, exaggerated step forward. “We’re here for a couple reasons. Starting with the fact that you pissed off Darla. And no one pisses off Darla and, you know, lives to tell the tale.”
The Slayer rolled her eyes. “Oh please. Ann Coulter called. She wants her sense of humor back.”
The one she pegged as Darla grew even more irritated at that. “Come on, Angelus. Do we even need to draw this one out? I just wanna see the little bitch bleed.”
“Fancy that,” a familiar, welcome, accented voice drawled, sending Buffy into an unexpected state of ease. “’S a good thing we don’ always get what we want.”
Spike was standing in front of her before she knew what was happening, his stance protective.
“Ahhh, William.” Angelus seemed sadistically giddy at the sight of him. “And here I thought maybe you’d gotten yourself staked by an angry mob. So much for wishful thinking, huh?”
“Peaches,” the platinum blonde all but growled. “See you’re still the overly boisterous egomaniac. ‘S a right comfort to know the years have treated you, well, more of the same.”
This seemed to amuse the vampire more than anything. “So, you obviously grew a pair in your years of solitude.”
“You’d be amazed at what bein’ away from the self-righteous sods of your lot can do for a bloke’s clarity.”
Angelus merely chuckled and returned his attention to Buffy. “Gotta hand it to you, Spike,” he said. “It takes one screw-up of a vamp to be this tragic in the span of a hundred years. You’ve succeeded admirably. What, with the way you fumbled Dru around, and now this? Mated to the Slayer? You know, I’d doubt you were from my clan if I didn’t have the regrettable memory of encouraging Dru to take pity on you all those years ago.”
Spike growled lowly. Buffy could feel him. Could feel every agonized inch of his body. He was seconds from losing control, and having already witnessed an out-of-control Spike up close and personal, something told her he’d be in a world of trouble before he could help himself.
She placed a hand on his arm, then, and was amazed when she felt him relax beneath her skin.
“Oh yeah, the rumors were true,” Angelus said nastily. “My own grandchilde…so thoroughly defanged.”
“Do you talk just to hear the sound of your voice?” Buffy demanded. “’Cause I gotta tell you, buddy. Doesn’t do much for the women with a pulse.”
“I don’t like her, Daddy,” Morticia moaned. “She’s taken away our cake and won’t play with the kittens.”
“Yeah, Spikey,” Angelus spat. “Gotta say, your taste in women seems to get worse with each passing year.”
“You shut your gob.”
“My William doesn’t want his princess?”
“Your William doesn’ live here anymore, Dru.” Spike stepped back, threading his fingers through Buffy’s without looking at her. “Don’ rightly know why you decided to show up now,” he continued conversationally. “Does Peaches need an ego boost, or are you so bored with him that you’ve taken to hittin’ hellmouths for a spot of fun?”
“That girl killed the Master,” Darla snarled, shaking with fury.
Buffy caught a flitter of a proud smile as it danced across Spike’s lips. “Yeah. She was bloody marvelous that night.”
“You knew she was going to do it and didn’t do anything to stop her?” the blonde vampire demanded, her bumpies bursting through. “I can’t fucking believe you. Do you have any idea—”
“I have all kinds of ideas. Funny how none of them center on givin’ a fuck about the Master.” Spike stepped forward once more. “Now the lot of you are gonna make yourselves scarce.”
“Remind me, when did we start taking orders from the pages of History’s Greatest Siring Faux-Pas?” Darla snarled. “I swear, Spike—”
“Ooohhh!” Dru cooed. “You angered grandmum. No treats for you.”
“I don’ give a rip if I angered the Marques de Sade, the lot of you aren’t comin’ near my mate.”
Buffy felt a rush of pride swell within her breast. The possessiveness of his tone warmed her insides. For the first time in her life, she felt like she truly belonged. That there was something beyond the ins and outs of her daily routine to strive for. Even becoming the Slayer hadn’t made her feel complete.
Spike was with her. She wasn’t alone.
Not alone.
“This is pathetic,” Angelus spat. “You mean to tell me you’re taking this ‘mating’ thing seriously? Spike, the girl’s a slayer.”
“The girl’s my mate, you overgrown sod. An’ you aren’t touchin’ her.”
His mate? Whoa…what?
Darla stormed forward only to be halted by the domineering hand of Mr. Forehead. “I don’t seem to recall any shining examples of your bravado,” she ground out. “Seems to me, you’re taking a lot on faith. You were always the weakest link of the clan, and following Dru, that’s quite a feat. If you’re harboring delusions of white-horses and playing the hero, that’s both sad and more than a little pathetic.”
“He kills our kind,” the one called Dru said loathsomely. “My William.”
“Wouldn’t settle for just slaying slayers, now he has to fuck them, too.” Angelus shook his head with amusement that barely concealed his outrage. Apparently, the good-humored cruelty he’d worn since presenting himself was wearing off for the more present appearance of fury. “You’re a joke of our kind. A foul up. A mistake. Always were, quite frankly, but you were one of us before, so we let it go. And now that you’ve betrayed the clan and have decided to side with the enemy, well…” His eyes turned dangerously dark. “There’s just not one good reason not to kill you.”
Buffy’s grip on her stake tightened.
I so don’t like where this is going.
No time for second guessing herself, then. She made her decision and ran with it. Unfortunately, by the time she had pitched her stake forward; her target was already in midleap, therefore the cylinder of wood sliced into Darla’s side rather than through her heart.
It was enough. Thank God, it was enough. Something in Angelus’s eyes sparked and he went immediately to the side of the fallen vampire. The other one—Dru—merely moaned pitifully and crumbled to her knees.
Spike didn’t hesitate. He seized Buffy’s arm and ran. Ran like all of hell was chasing him. Ran so hard, she could barely sense the ground beneath her. Barely saw the whip of scenery as it flashed before her eyes. She wasn’t aware of anything beyond the place where he had hold of her until he shoved her against the familiar entry door of her home, barking barely coherent commands to get them inside.
The minute she stepped into the familiar sanctuary of her home, she found herself mauled with a brutal twist of lips and fangs. Spike pinned her against the door just seconds after he slammed them inside, attacking her mouth furiously as his hands formed wordless poetry against her skin. He touched her everywhere. Grazed her cheeks with his fingers, slid his hands down her arms, cupped her breasts through her thin t-shirt before pursuing the roundness of her hips. All the while, he never broke his mouth from hers. His tongue initiated a dance that her body seemed to know, even if she had never practiced the moves before.
The sensual attack ended as soon as it began, and she was left under the angry glare of Spike’s yellow eyes.
“Din’t I tell you to be careful?” he demanded. “Din’t I tell you that Angelus an’ pals were in Sunnyhell? What the bleedin’ hell were you thinkin’?”
Buffy stared at him, stunned, for endless seconds.
Then her own ire bubbled over.
“What was I thinking? Umm, hello? Vampire slayer here. Perhaps I was thinking, hey, there are vampires…might as well take that sacred calling and see if the warranty hasn’t expired.”
Spike slammed an angry fist beside her head, but she did not flinch. “You coulda been killed!”
“News flash? I could be killed every day.”
“Not like this. You don’ know Angelus, luv. Not like I do.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you two were real chummy back in the day. Or does he just resent you ‘cause you’re the slayer slayer in the family?”
The vampire balked in surprise, but it was short-lived. “Goddammit, Buffy—”
“I really don’t know where you get the nerve,” she barked. “You barge into my life, turn my world upside down, then presume the right to tell me what to do? I don’t think so.” She paused, fuming. “You know what? Screw you.”
She made a move to shove past him, but he slammed her against the door again, his yellow glare fading into the deepest blue she’d ever seen. Even there in the dark of her entryway, he pierced her to her core. There was passion buried within his endless ocean. Passion, outrage, and devastation.
The last she realized before he gasped, his anger dissipating. Taken over by an emotion stronger than fury; taken over by despair. He fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her crotch. It wasn’t sexual, but she couldn’t help the instinctive stirring her body roused at that, and she collapsed against the door with a long-winded sigh.
Anger had a short lifespan tonight, it seemed. She was ready to bow out of the argument completely and simply relish in the earlier joy that he’d come for her at all. That he’d been there to place himself between her and the others.
Those others that, despite her tough words, had scared her more than any she’d faced. Master included.
“You can’t do that to me,” he moaned into her, his fingers playing a slow melody against her thighs. “I’ve waited so long. So bleedin’ long for you, Buffy. You can’t do that to me.”
He was saying it more for his sake, but she felt the tug of tears at her eyes.
“Spike…”
But that was all she said. All she could say. With a deep breath, she lowered herself to her knees and took him in her arms. Soothing him as he shook.
She didn’t know what had happened tonight. Her head was still spinning. But she placed her confusion aside for a greater source of bewilderment. A vampire was in her house, in her arms, and she wanted nothing more than to provide him comfort.
Perhaps the specifics didn’t matter. They certainly didn’t to her at that moment. So much about him terrified her; shook her foundation so hard, she doubted she’d ever get the pieces back together. The vampire in her arms was frightening, but at the moment, she couldn’t contemplate shoving him away.
That knowledge startled her.
Spike murmured her name again into her throat and pressed a kiss against her skin.
It was a small moment. And yet, up until now, she was certain she’d never been a part of anything so powerful.
If possible, the notion only served to strengthen her fear.
To be continued in Chapter Eleven: Sweet Dreams To Carry You Close To Me…
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