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| In Omne Tempus - Shining Its Brightest Light by Holly (1 Review) | | - - abc + |  | | | Chapter Thirteen
Shining Its Brightest Light
The demon was unspeakably restless. Sitting on the outside and looking in had never been as difficult. He had not known such cold isolation before; not like this. Not now that he had been given a taste of the warmth only her arms could provide, and he was again resigned to simply watch her as she slept. To know that he could enter the house if he wanted to—could touch her with freedom that had not existed before—and yet remain separated through glass was a cruel, insufferable fate.
Even for only a few hours.
His mind was occupied with the weight of what he had learned tonight.
He wasn’t the first vampire that the Powers had mated to a slayer. He was one in a long line of many. Buffy belonged to him because she was the slayer, not in spite of it. Had she not been destined for the Calling, he would not be with her now.
And his kiss would make her immortal.
What that meant, beyond the obvious, Spike did not know. Would she be cursed to walk throughout eternity with a sacred birthright to appease? Would she never know rest? Could he rightfully claim her if that was the case? She was his, yes, and as selfish as he wanted to be, hurting her by damning her was the last thing he felt he could do.
But God, he hadn’t waited this long just to let it all slip away. He knew the way she tasted now. Knew the sweetness of her blood, knew the heady little gasps she took as he explored her pussy, knew the warm awe of her gaze and the solace of her arms when she felt the need to comfort him. He knew her too well, had already taken too much, to turn back on it now.
And bollocks. That redemptionist rot was possibly the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. He might be a housebroken vampire, but he still was a nasty son of a bitch. He hadn’t given up killing because he’d gone soft; he’d done it because pleasing his mate was his first priority.
How does that differ from goin’ soft? Spike growled lowly under his breath and stuck a cigarette between his lips. Bloody git.
He knew that the Watcher had intentionally planted a seed of doubt, but somehow that thought provided little solace.
The vampire heaved a sigh and rested against the tree trunk, blowing a stream of smoke into the night air. He didn’t think Angelus would try anything. Regardless of all else, attacking a girl in the middle of the night if he had to make a big to-do about getting her outside simply wasn’t his MO. His grandsire was more into subtle pleasures. He liked watching his intended victim drown in pain before moving in for the kill.
Then again, Angelus would know that Spike anticipated certain patterns. And that didn’t even begin to factor in Darla, who didn’t care about the method as long as the tale had a bloody ending. There was also Drusilla—his dear Dru, his once black goddess, who was just crazy enough to play with fire.
It was strange, knowing that she was close. Having been in her presence for the first time in fourteen years, he was astounded by the lack of feeling he had for her. The emptiness that consumed him where she was concerned—as though so many years of devotion could be blinked out of existence. How was it that she had once been his everything? How was it that he could forget her with such little regard to the passion they’d once shared? Buffy couldn’t be the reason for it. He knew tales of vamps who spent centuries together only to discover their mate in the form of another, and know agonizing heartache when the demon refused to ignore the flash of gold. When the demon split two vampires apart because the Powers had stepped in and deemed that love, in such a case, wasn’t enough to merit eternity.
He even knew stories of vampires that attempted to claim their lovers without the demon’s permission. That never ended well. Never.
Point was, Buffy being his mate should not have affected anything but the demon. The man inside was supposed to be devoted to Drusilla, yet he hadn’t spared her more than a few short-lived thoughts since leaving her. It shouldn’t have been like that; shouldn’t have been so easily disregarded for the offering of what he’d craved since clawing out of his grave.
That terrified him. Outside the draw of Dru’s spell, his eyes were no longer hazy. He no longer saw her as mesmerizing. No longer felt she was the earth, moon, and sky. Being away from her was like coming out of a long nightmare in the guise of a dream, even as his heart ached and screamed that such a history could not be eradicated with the presence of a young girl with green eyes.
Spike drew in a breath and turned his eyes to Buffy’s window.
He was already too lost in her to look back. Pretending otherwise was foolish. In all honesty, he was more bothered by the fact that he’d been led astray for so many years—had allowed himself to believe something that didn’t truly exist. Had been blind enough to mistake it for the real thing.
What he felt for Buffy terrified him. It was more than the claim. More than his demon’s drive. More than the love he’d felt for Dru—the love he was now convinced had been nothing but infatuation. The need to belong to someone tied in with the strength of his sire’s power over him had completely overwhelmed him, and he had followed her blindly.
Granted, it had paid off. Drusilla had brought him his mate. Perhaps that had been her purpose all along. To sire him, teach him, give him what he needed to survive, then provide him with the face of his salvation.
She was. She was so much and she didn’t realize it. Didn’t know how much she’d changed him, just in the past two days. Didn’t know how rattled his world was for having known her. Every fundamental he’d ever relied on was up for grabs. His mate was the Slayer? So bloody be it. He’d be good for her. He’d be anything she wanted.
What he’d told Buffy was true. He’d waited fourteen years, and he’d wait longer if he had to. He’d wait for her forever, and he could only place so much blame on the claim. The rest was rooted deeper.
The rest was what shook his foundation.
The sound of a window opening crumbled the silence that encompassed him. “Lurk much?” a soft voice asked him gently. “We gotta stop meeting like this.”
“Like this?”
“The tree, the window…it’s officially overdone.”
A small smile flitted across his lips, and he took another drag of his cigarette. “Told you I wasn’ gonna go far away, pet,” he said, shrugging. “Jus’ wanna make sure the night passes without any unfortunate visits from King Forehead an’ his merry crew.”
Buffy wet her lips. “You’re gonna stay out there all night?”
“Till I feel the sun start to rise.”
“Why not come inside?”
Spike drank in her expression. “I’d love to,” he said, “but you kicked me out, remember?”
She glanced down and shuddered. “Yeah…I did, didn’t I?”
“What’s this?” He tilted his head with a grin. “You been missin’ me, kitten?”
“Thought you were supposed to feel me.”
“Oh, I feel you…jus’ din’t think I was wanted.”
Buffy pursed her lips and raised her eyes back to his. “Where’d you go?” she asked, doing her best—to her credit—to keep her suspicion to a minimal. Whether or not she thought he’d gone to kill or gone to socialize with his long lost family, he didn’t know. Only that his annoyance was buried with a warm swell of adoration for her coyness.
“Went to see your Watcher.”
That she wasn’t expecting. Her eyes bulged and her heart started thundering wildly. “Y-you saw Giles?”
“He’s still alive, if that’s what you’re askin’.”
“It’s not. I-I just…” She glanced down again. “He wasn’t too happy about you.”
“So I gathered.”
“Did he try to…you know…” She made a very suggestive motion with her fist that was obviously a ‘try to kill you’ gesture rather than what it looked like, but he grinned at her innocence all the same. “’Cause I will so kick his ass if he’s trying to dust my boyfriend.”
Spike froze and looked at her in wonder. “What?”
Buffy paused, then flushed. “There isn’t any possibility that I said that in my head, is there?”
“Your boyfriend?”
She glanced down self-consciously. “You don’t mind me calling you that…at least to myself, do you? ‘Cause you’ve already done things…” Her blush deepened, entrancing him. “…to me…that would have my mom demanding to see an engagement ring if she…knew.”
“Your mum would wanna marry you off?”
“Well, no…I was just saying.” Buffy flashed a tentative smile. “What did Giles have to say, if he wasn’t making with the stakeage?”
Spike drew in a breath. Here we go.
He refused to lie to her. Even if the truth was terrifying, he refused to lie to her. He knew what he wanted; what he’d wanted from the beginning. Everything he’d waited fourteen years to take.
And despite all else, something in her eyes soothed his fears.
She’s mine.
“When Merrick cornered me three years ago, he said things that clued me into why you an’ I…why we’re unique. Figured it was worth a shot to see if Rupes knew somethin’.” He smiled softly. “You know Watchers…’s like the Borg. The sodding collective of otherworldly knowledge.”
“Giles doesn’t know anything,” she said automatically.
“He does.”
“No. He would’ve told me this afternoon when I—”
“He knows, sweetheart.”
Buffy’s eyes were wide with denial. “That’s impossible. Spike, he would’ve told me. I mentioned the highlights and told him things that, if he knew anything, he would’ve connected the dots in the ultra-speedy, Gilesy way. He wouldn’t have—”
“Pet, I have absolutely no reason to argue with you, or try to call your Watcher’s a liar. I went there, an’ he knew. He told me.”
“Told you what?”
“The reason you’re mated to a vampire.” Spike sighed and shifted uncomfortably. “Apparently, it’s a part of the callin’. Bein’ the Slayer evens out the balance. Vamps are the dark, you’re the light, but we’re all a part of the same balance. An’ since there’s never more than one slayer, your mate is a vampire.” He paused. “A vampire that has tendencies that border on…redemptive.”
“You’re redemptive?”
He balked. “I never said that.”
“Spike—”
“I have never once set out to be redemptive. ‘S against my nature. I don’—”
“You…you said you wouldn’t do anything to hurt me,” she said gently. “Does that include not killing others? ‘Cause if others get hurt, I get hurt…especially if it’s something that I could’ve—”
“I knew what I was sayin’ when I said it.”
“Okay.” Buffy’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I was just asking.”
Spike expelled a deep breath. “I know, baby. I jus’…what he told me threw me off, an’ I din’t think that was possible anymore. An’ your Watcher made it perfectly clear that, mate or not, I’m better off with a piece of wood in my chest.”
“I can’t believe he didn’t tell me.”
He arched a cool brow. “Oh, can’t you?”
“Giles doesn’t lie.”
“He’s a Watcher. Lying’s what they’re best at.”
Buffy shook her head and glanced away. “He must’ve thought he was doing it for my own good,” she decided. “In some twisted sense of Giles-logic…that’s the only thing I can think of.” A pause. “So…it’s because I’m the Slayer, then. That’s why we’re…with the…”
He nodded. “Yeh.”
“I didn’t think it’d be that…”
“Simple?”
“You call this simple?”
A wry grin tugged at his lips. “No,” he replied. “But from what Rupes told me, we’re the only ones in the whole bloody history of slayers an’ the vamps that kill them to have ever found…found out. ‘S the Council’s best kept secret, I’m guessin’.”
That didn’t seem to rest well with her, which was more than fine with him. “Why?” she asked. “Why would they want to keep something like that—”
“Imagine bein’ a slayer with every vamp comin’ after you, not only for a chance at your neck, but for the power that bein’ your mate would acquire through the connection.” He shook his head. “I dunno ‘f that’s the reason, but it’s the only thing I could think of that made any sense to me.”
Buffy shuddered. “But wouldn’t a real mate not care about that once it happened?”
“Dunno. I don’ have much experience in this, pet. You’re my firs’.”
“But you’ve seen it before…with Angel and Darla.”
Spike gave her a look. “It’s Angelus, not Angel.”
“Yeah, well, Angel’s easier to remember. What’s the difference?”
A shrugged. “He doesn’ like bein’ called Angel. Never figured out why, though I guess he thinks it’s less poncy if you call him angel in Latin than in English.” He shook his head. “As far as your question, I have no sodding idea. Darla an’ Angelus certainly don’ feel anythin’ but dependency an’ respect for each other. An’ as long as it’s a team effort, they can shag other people.”
“What?”
“Well…sometimes, when they hunt, they like to…play with their food.” Spike nodded grimly as horror spread across her face. “’S not love, what they have. An’ if they can be so callous toward each other, it leads me to believe a vamp mated to a slayer might use that connection for somethin’ else.”
“But you said it was only redemptive vamps.”
“That’s what your Watcher said,” he corrected her with a low growl.
“So you’re just using me for the slayer power, then?” Buffy asked, brows arching. “That will only get you so far, buster.”
A shadow fell across his face. “Does it bloody well feel like I’m usin’ you?” he demanded. “Christ, Slayer, ‘f that’s what I was aimin’ for, you’d’ve been mine in name an’ blood the second I knew you were called.”
She smiled coyly. “I know.”
“Then what the—”
“I just like getting you all worked up.” She half-smiled, then sighed again and ran her fingers through her hair. “Are you…planning to stay here all night?”
“Till the sun rises,” he said again. “Can’t let anythin’ happen to my best girl.”
Buffy wet her lips, trembled slightly, then shifted so that she wasn’t crowding the window. “Then,” she said nervously, “you should come in.”
Spike stared at her, warmth flooding his body. Bloody amazing, this girl is. He’d only known her up close for two days, and he knew already that she would never stop surprising him. “This is the second night you’ve invited me into your room,” he purred, climbing in without argument. “A bloke might start gettin’ ideas.”
She blushed. “Well, so far, I’ve liked your ideas.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She eyed his chest with hunger that surprised him. “You should really take off your shirt.”
“I should, should I?”
“Uh huh. It’s more comfy.”
“To be honest, luv, I usually sleep without a stitch on.” His eyes twinkled. The rush of blood to her face was delicious. He wanted to lick her from head to toe. “But I s’pose I can suffer the discomfort of my jeans for the night.”
She frowned. “Do you not have any…oh…” Her blush deepened. “Oh.”
Spike shed his duster, smirking. “Think you can resist temptation, then?” he asked, hand coming to rest on his waistband. “Think I can crawl into that bed next to you an’ get through the night without bein’ mauled?”
“You have some ego.”
“Don’t I know it, baby.”
“And who said you’d be sleeping in my bed…with me?”
“’m sorry.” He blinked. “You want me somewhere else?”
Buffy bit her lip and kicked at the floor. “No…”
“Then throw some blankets over the windows, unless you fancy wakin’ up to a pile of dust in the mornin’.”
The Slayer didn’t move. Her eyes were glued to the black tee that he had yet to remove, and there was a look of desire in her eyes that he thought, somehow, he’d never get to see. Not like the desire she’d shown him in just the past two days; something raw and primal. Something that spoke for all the passion she kept in that small, luscious body of hers.
The urge to taste her had never been greater than it was at that moment.
And then, as though sensing his hunger, Buffy shook her head and snapped back to herself. “You’re not gonna…you know…bite me while I’m asleep, are you?”
He shook his head. “I’d never take advantage of you like that.”
“What if the demon loses control? That’s not like outside the realm of possibility. We’ve both been there and done that…recently.”
“I won’ bite you, kitten. That night…last night, when I…I wasn’ tryin’ to control it. An’ I wasn’ tryin’ to control it downstairs. I’ll control it tonight, pet. Even asleep, I’m stronger than my demon, an’ I can make sure my fangs come nowhere near your neck.”
She looked at him skeptically. “You’re not just saying that?”
“Believe me, I’d never do anythin’ to make you not trust me. Not intentionally. I have quite a bit of experience when it comes to this, sweetling. I know what I’m doin’.”
God, he hoped so. Even hearing himself speak, Spike could feel the hole growing deeper and deeper. But there was no way he wasn’t going to chance it. Spending the night in her arms? He was nearly sure he’d dusted and been rewarded with fourteen years of relatively good behavior with a glimmer of paradise.
It wasn’t as though he didn’t think he could do it; he did. Only now if it turned out he couldn’t, she’d never forgive him.
As it was, his word seemed to be all that Buffy needed. She tossed an afghan over the windows—the one splayed decoratively at the end of her bed—then turned her attention back to him, her eyes large and full of unspoken want.
Then she was right in front of him, her hands running seductively over his chest.
“Why is this still on?” Without waiting for a reply, she tugged the hem out of his jeans and drew the offending garment over his head.
Then—oh Christ—her hands were exploring his bare skin. Running over scars left by time, tracing his abs, flickering his nipple just to gauge a response. Spike hissed and thrust his hips into hers, surprising her with his ardor but doing little to frighten her away. If anything, the feel of his erection pressed into her only fueled her ministrations. She leaned in and nibbled just slightly at his throat, and the sensation was too bloody wonderful to warn her off before the demon seized her unconscious invitation.
“Mmmm.”
“Buffy!” he choked, reaching for her, but her mouth was leading her southward. The smell of her drove him wild. Her soft, subtle touches burned him with the just rewards of patience tangled in with her innocence. She was shy but curious, and her girlish whims were going to be his undoing.
When he felt her teeth delicately scrap his nipple, he screwed his eyes shut, muttered an oath, and jerked away from her, panting harshly.
Holy bleedin’ fuck.
“Spike?”
Her voice was small and wounded, and tore at his heart.
“God, Buffy…”
“Did I do something wrong?”
He nearly laughed at that. Wrong?
“No. God, no.” A violent shudder coursed through him, and he made himself meet her eyes. “You’re playin’ with fire,” he said. “I promised I wouldn’t…an’ if you keep at that, you’ll make me go back on that promise.” He paused for a brief moment. “I’ve waited too long for you, sweetheart. Too bloody long…that…”
Buffy turned her gaze to the ground. “I just wanted to…with before…in the kitchen…I wanted to give you…something. I don’t even know what, I just—”
“You don’ owe me anythin’.”
“I wasn’t going to do it because I thought I owed you. God, no.” She shivered. “I feel so stupid.”
Spike swore inwardly. Heartless git.
“No,” he all but growled, irritated with himself. “Slayer, you don’ know what you do to me. What every li’l touch does to me. An’ if that’s not enough, the idea that you want…there aren’t words enough to explain it. But if you expect me to keep my control tonight, you can’t…I’m strong enough to fight it off, but not like that. These warm touchies you feel for me? I’ve been fightin’ it longer than you can imagine…an’ to be this close but promise not to get closer…”
“Is this a bad idea?” Buffy asked. “You staying here?”
“Probably,” he answered honestly. “You want me to leave?”
“No.”
A sigh of relief coursed off his shoulders. “Good.”
She smiled weakly and reached for his hand. Their fingers entwined, and he felt suddenly as though he was engulfed in fire—the sort that burned forever in manner of annoying eighties songs, only with meaning. Tentatively, she led him to her bed, climbed in, and edged across the mattress so that her back was against the wall.
The minute he reclined, he found himself with an armful of Buffy. The sweet scent of her hair tickled his nostrils, the steady drum of her heart beat soundly against his still chest, the warmth of her skin enveloped him, and he felt as close to peace as he had since the night he was turned.
“Can I kiss you goodnight?” she asked softly. “Would that be okay?”
Spike nearly purred. “More than okay.”
Her lips were on his the next second.
Kissing her was a pleasure he’d been denied too long, he realized. Too many years without goodnight kisses. Without feeling her arms around him. Without feeling the rush of her pulse and the small mewls that scratched at the back of her throat.
She was paradise.
And tonight, for the first time, Spike was allowed a moment’s peace for the haven of her embrace.
To be continued in Chapter Fourteen: Out Of The Dark…
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