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| In Omne Tempus - The Devil Is A Gentleman by Holly (1 Review) | | abc + + + |  | | | Chapter Eighteen
The Devil Is A Gentleman
He’d only been asleep an hour and a half when the feeling jarred him awake. Spike’s eyes flew open. He was still in Buffy’s room, his little goddess pressed intimately against him, slumbering sweetly. Her head was tucked just under his chin, her arm draped over his chest, her right leg resting over his. He could hear her steady heartbeat; feel the rush of her pulse. It was slightly irregular—not in a worrisome way; rather as though she was alert despite being lost in sleep. As though her body knew that he was near.
Spike drew in a deep breath. He wanted desperately to ignore the stirrings that had jerked him from sleep, label them as being paranoid delusions of an over-active subconscious, but he couldn’t. No force on earth could recreate the presence of family. Angelus was near. Angelus was outside. Angelus was at Buffy’s house.
More over, Angelus was there because Spike was there. He’d brought Angelus to Buffy’s house. He didn’t know how he knew—it was simply there. An understanding. A truth. Angelus wasn’t outside for the Slayer; he had made the midnight visit to torment the youngest member of his family.
Spike wasn’t one to disappoint. With a deep sigh, he cautiously extracted himself from Buffy’s embrace. He didn’t want to disturb her, or worry her with what was about to happen. Though he hadn’t the faintest idea why Angelus would seek him out, especially since the enormous sod had done all he could to ignore him while he was an active part of the Order, there was no reason for the Slayer to get involved. Not now. Not if it was avoidable.
The vampire sighed again, turning back to Buffy. She looked so peaceful. So beautiful. So warm and inviting, even in sleep. And she was safe in her room. Angelus couldn’t get inside, and if he did try one of the less-conventional methods of getting humans out of their homes, Spike would get to her first. As her mate, any alternative was impossible.
As the man who loved her, it was even more so.
Spike slid his discarded t-shirt over his chest and proceeded downstairs. He found Angelus where he knew he’d be; outside, a demon without shame, looking in through the paned side-window with a half-curious, half-bored look on his face.
God, he hated the sod. He hated him so much.
Irregardless, he had to find out why his grandsire had decided to visit. It wasn’t like him; Angelus liked sneaking around and leaving surprises for those he targeted. Until he was ready for the big show-down, he used lackeys to deliver his messages outright. He rarely showed his face until he was ready. Until he felt it was time.
He really was the greatest wanker of them all.
Spike pried open the door and greeted his grandsire with a dry, unimpressed look. “What?” he spat.
The dull, faintly amused but overly indifferent eyes of Angelus met his outrage, looking at him as though he was the intruder. As though coming to Buffy’s at all had been a drastic inconvenience, and that the younger vampire should be honored to be graced with the presence of his elder.
“What?” Angelus spread his arms with a condescending smirk. “No hug?”
“Get the hell outta here.”
“You know, we really never did perfect your people skills.”
“I can see this is gonna be one of our more enlightenin’ heart-to-hearts, so let’s skip the small talk. You’re a heartless bastard. Now leave.”
“Well, yeah.” Angelus’s brow furrowed, his tone deepening in condescension. “I am heartless.”
“So you decided to pop over here an’ share this li’l revelation?”
“I don’t see why you’re being so hostile.” The elder vampire shrugged. “I came here in peace. I’m not snarling. Not name-calling. I’ve been rather pleasant, I must say, even in the face of unreasoning resentment. Why don’t you hear me out before you throw stones?”
Spike’s eyes narrowed. “I got a better idea. Why don’ I close this door an’ forget your miserable face came within a hundred feet of my mate tonight. That sound good to you?”
“Ahh, yes, that’s exactly what I’m here to talk about.” Angelus’s eyes twinkled maliciously. “Your mate.”
His chest tightened and the demon snarled. He knew what the other vampire was pushing at, and he wasn’t about to forfeit the reaction he knew the other was garnering for. He would keep his outrage to himself. That was that.
“Uh huh.”
“See…your mate’s the Slayer…”
“Thank you for that. Havin’ been born yesterday—”
“Tsk tsk tsk. No need to get snippy.”
Spike’s eyes narrowed. He could talk all he liked, but he knew Angelus wasn’t going anywhere. Hell would freeze, thaw, and freeze again before he abandoned the sanctuary of Buffy’s house, abandon Buffy, simply because there was bad blood between him and his grandsire. He didn’t fear Angelus—no, he’d never feared Angelus. But he knew him well enough to know that complying with what he wanted was likely the stupidest thing anyone could ever do.
Angelus was an arrogant son of a bitch, but he wasn’t stupid. If he was here, there was a reason.
“What is it?”
The elder vampire arched a brow. “Hrm?”
“What do you want?”
“Can’t a vampire visit another—”
“No. Get on with it.”
There was a sigh and he shook his head. “Fine, have it your way.”
Balls. It was never his way. Never Spike’s decision. Angelus didn’t give a fuck about him, or anyone else for that matter. He barely conjured enough empathy for his own mate. He helped Darla because when she was in pain, he was as well. It was all self-serving. And in that regard, it was to everyone’s benefit that vampires lacked reflection. If Angelus could see himself in the mirror, he wouldn’t be able to draw his eyes away from his own visage long enough to feed himself.
Though, in retrospect, that wasn’t a bad thing.
“I came here ‘cause Dru wanted me to make a direct appeal. For whatever reason, she thinks you’re important.”
Spike took the insult with a grain of salt. He wouldn’t allow Angelus the pleasure of seeing him flinch. “For what?”
Angelus shrugged. “Don’t know. Don’t care. Just got tired of her yapping. You know how she is.”
He was trying to provoke a violent response. It wasn’t going to work.
“So you’re over here to recruit me for a job that you don’ even have the inside info on? Sorry, mate. With as miserable as these last few years have been, I’ve taken certain pleasure in not havin’ to deal with you an’ the merry band.”
“Ah, that’s right.” His eyes twinkled as though he had just remembered something. “You’re housebroken now.”
Spike shrugged. “’F that’s what you wanna call it. We’ve already traded pleasantries, Angelus. I don’ give a rip ‘bout you or the rest of them, an’ I certainly don’ care what you think of me.”
“Spoken like a true protestant.”
“Point. I’m sure you’re gettin’ to that, right?”
“Thought I’d already made myself clear. For reasons beyond me, Dru seems to think you’re valuable. And since I find shutting her up is the best way to keep her off my back when I don’t feel like playing nanny, here I am.” He spread his arms as though he was a saint. “Come on. You can’t seriously be happy like this.”
“Every minute I spend away from the lot of you is the happiest of my unlife. Now bugger off.”
“You really don’t think it’s going to be that simple, do you?” Angelus sighed and shifted. “Listen, we’re not here, regardless of what you may think, because of your precious mate.”
Spike’s eyes narrowed. “You jus’ bleedin’ said you were here to talk about her—”
“So I lied.” He shrugged. “Partly. Had to get your attention somehow. She is a source of concern, and of course, when Dru told us that she was who you’d been with these past fourteen years…well, that was just funny.”
Ah. So that’s how word had gotten out. His former had had a vision, or an inkling, or whatever it was she had. That didn’t change anything, though. Angelus was still at his mate’s home. His demon sensed a predator—a threat—and it was all he could do to keep himself from barreling over the threshold.
“Dru’s had a lot of interesting visions lately,” the elder vampire continued conversationally. “The one that brought us here is particularly…well…one doesn’t want to use the word ‘delicious,’ but at times, one must. I just love a good apocalypse, don’t you?” He grinned. “Anyway, Dru thinks you’re important for what we need. I’m here to prove her wrong.”
That made him freeze. God, no. “What?” he demanded. “What has she—”
Angelus roared a long, mocking chuckle. “Good God. Do I have STUPID tattooed to my forehead? You’re with the Slayer. Do you honestly think I’m going to sit here and divulge my big, evil plan with all the incriminating details?”
“Well, it was worth a shot. After all, ‘f you think I’d do anythin’ to help you miserable—”
The elder vampire just grinned. “See? Just as I thought. Not important at all.”
“Whatever you have planned, she’ll stop you.” A pause. The words tumbling from his mouth were almost foreign. Something big and evil was going down, and he found himself, for the first time, on the side of humanity. Placing his hope in the forces of good, almost without realizing it. Buffy was sleeping upstairs, and her life centered on saving the world. Therefore, as her mate, his did as well. “We’ll stop you.”
“Oh. I’m counting on it.” A familiar scent hit the air just as Angelus’s eyes traveled to the staircase, a slow grin spreading across his face. “And I’m certainly counting on her.”
Spike froze. “Buffy,” he said calmly, not turning around. “Go back to bed.”
“What’s going on?”
There was no suspicion in her tone like he’d expected. After all, a vampire she’d known only for two days who had all but barreled into her life was talking with a member of the Order he had long ago abandoned. It could look bad, but she had faith. The notion warmed him thoroughly.
God, he loved her.
Still, that didn’t mean he wanted her to be any part of this. He didn’t want to drag her into the wretched bowels of his hollowed existence before she lit up his life. Angelus was here for him, despite all his huffing; he wasn’t interested in Buffy, other than collateral. A slayer to finally add to his belt. And even if he didn’t get to kill her—which he so obviously wanted, simply because he loved tormenting Spike—there would be another slayer after her. Another girl to kill. And another, and another. In terms of forever, his possibilities were endless.
Unless he was dust. And Spike would see him dust. Before this was over, he would see the son of a bitch scattered in particles on the earth.
“Ah, look what we have here!” Angelus drawled. “A little morsel has come out to play. Hello there, Buffy.” He drew in a deep breath. “I was just telling Spike here what—”
“He’s not staying.”
Her voice was lost and confused. “Spike—”
“Go back upstairs, sweet. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Oh, he will.” Angelus nodded. “He’s not enough of a vamp to actually defend your honor. He’ll climb in bed, whisper niceties in your ear, and pretend to not wanna nice fuck while he dreams of women of experience.” He smiled condescendingly. “Isn’t that right?”
Spike’s eyes flared. “Get outta here!”
“See what I mean? You know, Darla and I keep having this argument, so maybe you two could help out.” His smile turned malicious, his eyes focused on the Slayer. “Would it be funnier to tie Spike up and make him watch as I fuck you to death, or to take you from behind while Darla and Dru teach you why no mortal girl could please a vampire?”
Spike saw red. Fury as black as anything he’d ever experienced flooded his veins. The last strains on his control had finally snapped. The bones in his face shifted and he roared his outrage…and had the demon not been immediately drawn to the presence of his mate, he feared he would have foregone every strain of his personal reserve.
He’d never felt Buffy move so fast. Never. In one second, she was at the top of the stairs; the next, she was barreling downward, all but flying over the threshold and toward Angelus’s waiting grasp.
No. Not like this.
Spike acted without thought. He caught her around the middle just seconds before she flew past the door, ignoring the cackling ring of Angelus’s entertainment. “Oh, yeah!” the elder vampire cried gleefully, clasping his hands together. “Big man!”
“Get the hell outta here!”
“You’re sure he’s the one you want making you a woman, little Buff?” he continued nastily, his eyes focused on Buffy in ways that made the younger demon want to forget the claim, if only for a second, so that he could deal with his grandsire without worrying about his mate. Without worrying for a fraction of a moment. “Spike’s still a child. Not capable of handling what a slayer needs. A disgrace of the Order. Christ, the boy wouldn’t know where to put his dick without a manual.”
Buffy growled and struggled against Spike’s hold on her. Holy fuck, she growled.
“Ohh, feisty!”
“Get outta here!” Spike snapped. “Get the hell out!”
“She’s not gonna want to be caged up forever, boy,” Angelus said, shrugging. “Just tell her where to find me when she wants the real thing. I’d love to have a taste.”
“Let me go!” Buffy screamed. “I’m gonna rip his head off!”
“Come on, Spike! Let her go!”
Spike slammed the door closed before his control snapped completely. He released his struggling mate, avoiding the glare of her eyes as he double-checked the locks, peeked through the window panes to make sure Angelus was gone. And he was. His grandsire had accomplished what he wanted. He’d distressed the Slayer, infuriated the only vampire in history to walk away from his Order, and planted a seed of doubt.
Something was coming. They weren’t here for Buffy; they were here for something else. Dru had had a vision, and he was supposed to play a part. Dru wanted him, for whatever reason.
Bugger. That. He would never do anything to bring danger to his mate.
“Why?” Buffy demanded, drawing him back to the present. “You can’t protect me, Spike! This is my job! A vampire was at my house, and—”
“A vampire is still at your house, luv.”
“You should’ve let me kill him!”
His eyes flared. “He would’ve torn you apart.”
“Thanks. It’s so nice to know that my mate for life…or eternity…or whatever has so much faith in my—”
“He would’ve used me against you, you daft bint. That pain you were feelin’ earlier? You can’t control it. Not without makin’ it complete. Your emotions are tied with reactions, an’ yeh, that doesn’ go away, but you do learn how to temper it.” Spike shook his head furiously. “An’ you don’ know Angelus. He’s an arrogant sod, but he’s lived two hundred an’ fifty years for a reason.”
“I could’ve taken him!”
“No, you couldn’t have. Not like this. Not with the pain you’re feelin’. He would’ve used me against you, an’ then you against me. He would’ve used us against each other.” Spike took a step forward. He knew he was being redundant, and he didn’t care. Whatever he had to do to get through to her. “You’re stronger than he is, but you don’ know how to fight him. Strength doesn’ mean rot if you don’ know how to use it. If you think for one second I’m the type to stand aside an’ let the woman I love put herself in danger, you’re off your sodding nutter. I’d sooner walk into daylight.”
Buffy blanched, anger vanishing.
Spike froze, recounted, and cursed.
Bloody hell.
“W-what?”
“Nothing.”
“Spike—”
It was too soon. He wasn’t ready for this. Wasn’t ready for a conversation about love. He had only tonight realized the true extent of his feelings, and she was still terrified of him. Of everything. While she had aged significantly emotionally in the past few hours, he was all too aware of how much love could change things. Could terrify a girl her age who hadn’t felt anything like this before. In any regard, shouting it at her had been the last way he’d wanted to tell her.
Bollocks up everythin’.
And yet, she looked so torn there in the entryway. Fury had faded and she was Buffy again. Just Buffy, not the Slayer. Buffy who was looking at him as though he had just fallen from the heavens. As though the concept of anyone loving her was so out there, that even the one designated to be her mate for eternity would be hard pressed to voice the words.
Before he knew what was happening, she had launched herself into his arms and attacked his mouth with hers. And he melted into her. His arms came around her in a fury, hauling her against him as her tongue found his, stroking him into oblivion with the simple sweetness of her kisses. Her body was so warm and inviting; her heart pounded furiously against his unanswering chest, her pelvis thrusting against his needily, small whimpers scratching at her throat as he guided her back toward the staircase.
God, he needed her so much. Every kiss tested his resolve. Every time he touched her warm, welcoming flesh. Every time her arousal permeated the air. Every everything she gave him. And now, she was surpassing her shyness by letting lust guide her actions. He wasn’t going to be able to wait much longer. His need for her, eclipsed only by his love, had tormented his restraint long enough.
But not now. Christ, he wanted it, but not now. He wasn’t going to let her give herself to him because she thought she had to. Because she’d heard the words, mistake as it had been.
“Tell me,” she pleaded softly between kisses, and the voice of her insecurities broke his heart. “Please, Spike.”
He melted.
God, I’m already damned.
“I love you,” he gasped against her mouth, his hands exploring every soft curve her warm body had to offer. “I love you so much, Buffy.”
“Do you mean it?”
“Yes. God, yes.”
She kissed his lips again, then pressed her mouth to his throat, shuddering against him as his fingers found her nipples. “Spike…”
God, she’d opened a gate. “I love you,” he murmured again. “I love you.”
Suddenly, the rest didn’t matter at all. His earlier agreement with himself was forgotten. Buffy was crying again, but for the first time, he’d given her tears of happiness.
Whatever Angelus had planned, he would make sure it never saw fruition. The woman he loved was holding him, crying because he’d told her how he felt. There had never been anything like this. Never.
He would fight for her until the end of the world. No matter what it took.
No matter what it cost.
To be continued in Chapter Nineteen: Forever In Your Eyes…
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