V
He didn’t want to tell her everything he remembered. The vast details of his existence following the collapse of Sunnydale were vivid and terrible, and there was no reason she needed to know about it.
“You don’ put it in the microwave, luv.”
“I wasn’t going to!”
Spike just grinned and shook his head. “Don’t tell me you never watched your mum make pancakes,” he said. “Or, you know…anythin’?”
“Meanie.”
“You were about to put a bleedin’—”
“I was not!”
He chuckled and tugged her close, kissing her thoroughly. “You’re adorable.”
She pouted. “You just think so because I’m all kitchen-appliance challenged.”
“Well, I can’t lie. That does help.” His wandering mouth found her throat. “Mmm…you’re delicious.”
“Umm…food?”
His fingers itched up the hem of the t-shirt she had thrown on for their cooking extravaganza. For whatever reason, she felt strange walking naked around her apartment, even if it was only his appreciative gaze she had to answer to. It was one of those Buffy things that he found utterly endearing. “Food?” he repeated. “You smell good enough to eat.”
“Spike…”
He murmured his approval, dropping to his knees before her. “You know, I love that sound,” he whispered into her, diving under the t-shirt and sinking his tongue inside her wet pussy without warning. Her answering gasp filled the air, and in seconds, he had her against the counter, a leg draped over his shoulder as his mouth explored her sweetness.
“Oh God…”
“Mmm.” His tongue drew a long lap up her slit. “Better get used to this, baby,” he cooed. “’ve been a man starved for far too long.”
A shiver ran through her body, and he felt it. “How long?” she asked.
“Buffy—”
“How long?”
He growled lightly and nipped at her, sinking two fingers within her as his tongue curled around her clit. “Doesn’ matter,” he replied. “’S over now.”
“Spike—”
He suckled her clit into his mouth, driving his wet digits into her with more force. He wanted to taste her as she came. Wanted to feel her orgasm wash over her body. Wanted to know the pleasure he gave her. The claim mark on his throat was burning unlike anything he had ever felt. His skin was on fire but his body was cold. And it was wonderful.
“Fuck,” he gasped, eyes hazing over, watching her head fly back. “You taste so good.”
“Oh my God.”
“I feel it, sweetheart. I feel everythin’.”
It was a sensory explosion when she came. Long shudders coursed through his system, and his eyes blurred with color. The earth-moving sounds of her cries filled the air, and he held her to him as she shuddered into release. Lapping up everything she had to give him. Drinking every drop of her ambrosia. Her delectable honey. He felt as though taste had been given back to him. He’d been detached for so long. Too long. Now he could feel again, and it was wonderful.
This was it. This was the way to spend eternity.
Buffy tugged him to his feet and wrapped her arms around him. This was new. It was all so new. The Buffy he remembered had never openly expressed affection for him. Not even at the end. He distinctly recalled the night she killed Caleb; the look in her eyes when she mentioned that Faith was in her room. That look that begged he make the decision for them so she wouldn’t have to step down from her pedestal. He’d been grateful for it. He loved her too much to watch her turn around and leave him, and he recollected the sharp pain that had engulfed him for three seconds when he thought his big mouth had blown it.
That much of Buffy was more than he’d ever had before.
Now she was in his arms, tugging him closer to her. Letting him see her tears. Letting him feel everything that she had hidden from him for so long. It was overwhelming; almost like the dreams that had haunted him after Africa. When he’d been driven insane with the need to be with her, but grounded with the knowledge that he didn’t deserve to breathe her air with what he had nearly done.
He’d hugged a cross and that pain was secondary to the hurt he burned himself with every day.
“Will told me,” she whispered against him, her body trembling. “She told me…when…”
Her phone call the day before. Red. Of bleeding course. Funny, he hadn’t thought of her at all. Nor Xander, or Giles, or any of the sniveling potential brats, particularly Willow’s whiny Tara replacement. No—his thoughts had been dominated wholly by the woman in his arms. His Slayer.
“It doesn’ matter, pet.”
“I just.” She pulled back, and her tears nearly crippled him. “I’m the one who asked him for the amulet, Spike. I asked him for the amulet, and then you…”
Spike smiled tenderly and brushed a kiss over her forehead. “Sweetheart, whatever happened was not your fault.”
“If I’d let him—”
“Well, he’d’ve walked away with a bloody huge martyr complex. Or not, as the sodding Senior Partners told me on multiple occasions how I’d mucked up their plans.” He rolled his eyes. “For bein’ omnipotent, these blokes really are thick.”
Buffy shook her head, stifling another sob. “They tortured you.”
“Yeh, well, they forgot who they were dealin’ with. Dru was a helluva lot more inventive than these sods. An’ she had more of a sense of humor about it.” He smiled when she stiffened at the mention of his ex and kissed her lips with a grin. It was the claim, he knew, but he couldn’t deny the rush her jealousy gave to his pride. After everything they’d been through, the thought that he could look away from the goddess in his arms was laughable.
It was as though the love he’d felt for her was the beginners course. Preparing him for this wondrous feeling. Preparing him for completion beyond all else. He was consumed by it, and he didn’t care. Buffy was with him. There was no want for anything else.
“I got out,” he murmured. “That’s all that matters. I din’t let them get what they wanted.”
“What was that?”
“Don’ know, really. All I know is they wanted me to let go of you.” His smile broadened at her look of astonishment. “Biggest motivator of all, pet, or hadn’t anyone told you? I felt you. Felt every bloody thing. An’ feelin’ you was worth whatever they threw at me. I’d’ve rather gone through a sodding eternity bein’ tortured an’ feelin’ you than a sodding day without it.”
“Spike—”
“An’ don’ tell me I’m full of it, ‘cause I’m here now. You have your walkin’ proof. Wasn’ an eternity, but it bloody well felt like it.” Spike urged her head back to his shoulder when he saw her eyes flood with fresh tears. It was all a bit overwhelming; a Buffy who cried for him. He had felt it, of course. He had felt her months pass slowly as years consumed him. He had felt her anguish, her hurt, her heartache, her grief; he had felt everything until finally it turned into cold apathy for the way she was living her life, and that had nearly killed him all over again.
They were coming back to life together now. Perhaps that was why it was different. Buffy had been dead, too; she just hadn’t realized it.
“Come on, pet.”
“What?”
“Your stomach’s gonna have to wait. Let’s get you in the shower.”
“Shower?”
“You know, that nozzle in the bath that sprinkles water from overhead?”
She laughed in spite of her tears and whacked him lightly across the shoulder. “Ha ha, wise-ass.”
“Bloody right. Come on. Figure turnabout’s fair play, an’ all that.” He winked at her. “Don’ think I forgot the treatment you gave me that firs’ night.”
Buffy flushed. “I didn’t…I just…”
“You drove me outta my mind. Always bloody do. Remember bein’ severely aggravated that you din’t strip an’ join me.” Spike grinned devilishly, tugging at her hand and leading her down the hall. This place would only know them for so many more days; his goddess deserved a castle. A palace that Aphrodite would envy. He didn’t care what he had to do; he would make sure she never wanted for anything again.
He had told her that he could get money once upon a time. That hadn’t changed. He could get money, and he would. He had some unclaimed profits in stocks that would likely be enough to get him started. It all depended on the rise in inflation and the fluctuations in the market since the last time he checked in on it, which had honestly been a good sixty years prior.
As she had the first night, Buffy dropped to her knees and tugged his trousers down his legs; a pair of jeans that he’d thrown on randomly so she wouldn’t feel awkward at his own lack of modesty. And as she had the first night, she brushed a gentle kiss over the head of his cock, coaxing a long moan through his throat.
It had been so long. So bleeding long.
“Buffy—”
She curled her hand around him, and he about exploded with heat. “I always promised myself that if…I promised myself I’d never take you for granted again,” she murmured, her tongue laving a long lap up his erection. He mewled in protest, threading his fingers through her hair. She squeezed him in turn, engulfing the belled tip of him into her searing inferno. “I just never thought I’d get a chance to prove it.”
Spike threw his head back and moaned. “B-Buffy…you don’…you don’t have to prove anythin’ to me.”
“I have to prove it to myself, though.” Her teeth teased his skin, her hand dropping to cup his balls reverently. “It has to be different this time. I owe you so much.”
“Balls.”
She giggled at that, and the sound was harmonious. “Why yes,” she said, squeezing his sac as her mouth drew his cock back inside. “I believe you have those.”
“Minx.”
“Yup.”
She laughed again, and he whimpered again at the feel of the vibrations against him. Hearing her indulge in mirth after so much hurt sent his heart spiraling in some assuredly nancy-boy fashion that would have his inner Big Bad shaking his head in disgrace, but fuck if he cared. Buffy was perfection, and the thought of being the cause of her pain made him feel he deserved every day he’d spent in Hell a thousand times over.
“I owe you for everything,” she continued, mouth releasing him with a wet plop. “For saving me when I didn’t admit I needed saving. For…putting up with—”
“I love you,” he gasped in turn. He swore he saw stars when her hot mouth engulfed his sac. “You can’t stop me…from tryin’… I love you. I don’ know anythin’ else.”
Her hand squeezed the base of his erection as she nibbled on his skin.
“Buffy!”
She murmured something unintelligible and returned her attention to his cock. He thrust into her welcoming mouth without thinking, need taking over in place of consideration. She moaned again in encouragement, and he lost all reserve. The feel of her was beyond anything he had ever experienced. He caught a glance of the mirror and nearly doubled over. Buffy on her knees, pleasuring a phantom lover as he drove himself needily into her hot cavern. She was squeezing him, licking him, tasting him; driving him out of his mind. She swallowed each time his cock struck the back of her throat, and it was too much. It was all too much.
“I’m—”
She nodded her understanding without a need of words, and her bobbing head hit the final nail in the coffin. With a growl, he tightened his hold on her, threw his head back, and came. Thrusting hard against her mouth, releasing himself into her welcoming heat. It didn’t even occur to him that he was holding her hair, refusing to let her go as she swallowed everything he had to give her. Though it was the first thought that struck him when sensibility returned, and he found himself automatically floored with regret.
He collapsed against the counter. “Oh my God.”
Buffy bathed him with her tongue, lapping up everything she had not caught and reviving his erection with a vengeance. She smiled at him when she rose to her feet, her hand dipping between them to grace his cock with a found squeeze. “Alive in there?”
Spike’s eyes were glued to the ground. “’m sorry,” he murmured. “I din’t mean…I was too—”
“What?”
“I shouldn’t’ve…” He met her gaze soberly. “I din’t mean to make you…you know.”
She frowned. “Spike, I—”
“I don’ like forcin’ anythin’, sweetling. Especially not after…” He grew distant again. “I din’t—”
The next thing he knew, she was in his arms, comforting him with the promise of her embrace. God, what he’d done to deserve her was completely beyond him. What she gave him without even trying…he had no idea how in the name of everything holy his path had led him to her. He was just one vampire. One more soul to be salvaged. And somehow, he had found a savior.
“Don’t,” Buffy whispered. “That’s over.”
“I—”
“Living in the past never helps anyone. Trust me, I lived in the past with Angel far too long.”
Somehow, he managed to quell the demon’s need to snarl and break things at the mention of his ponce of a grandsire. He recognized, somehow, that she was using the name as an example; not a tool for making him crawl and beg for acceptance.
“And doing so,” she continued, “stopped me from seeing you for such a long time. I forgave you for that. Just as…just as I’ve always hoped you forgave me for everything I did. Neither one of us were our best that year. I was abusive, you…you were my punching bag. And what happened was…you were a cornered animal, and I kept hitting you with the mindset that you’d never get over it and hit me back.”
“Buffy—”
“I forgave you. That wasn’t you. I know you, Spike. That wasn’t you. That’s not something you would ever do. Not to me.” She paused. “Not to anyone…now…and even then. You’d stopped being what you thought you were a long time ago.”
He nearly forgot that he didn’t need to breathe. “What?”
“Evil.”
“Sweetheart—”
“I don’t want to do this.” She shook her head. “I love you. You’re back. That’s all that matters to me.” She paused. “And I trust you. I trust you more than…you’re the only person that’s never betrayed me.”
Spike’s eyes went wide. “How can you say—”
“My Mom? God love her, she kicked me out of the house. Angel went evil then left me without bothering to tell me, ‘Oh yeah, get over me, please.’ Giles? Tried to kill you. Willow nearly destroyed the world. Xander…let’s not even go there. Riley? Suckjobs from vamps, anyone? And Dawn…she kicked me out of the house, too.” Buffy shook her head. “I wanted you to betray me, do you understand? I was so used to people I loved hurting me…either by leaving me or cutting me out or, well, you name it. I wanted you to be the same. God, I wanted that…but you’re not, Spike. And in the end, all that happened was…I betrayed myself. I shoved you away when I needed you the most. I made you feel like you didn’t matter, when you were all that mattered. Willow brought me out of the grave, but you gave my life back to me. And I never thanked you for that.”
He didn’t realize he was crying until she reached up to wipe his tears away.
“We hurt each other that year…and if you can forgive me…I think we can start forgetting.”
“Forgive you?” he gasped. “Christ, Buffy…”
“Is that a yes?”
“I never…” Spike shook his head. Bloody hell, the tears wouldn’t stop. “It was never a matter of that, pet,” he said. “If there was ever anythin’…of course I…God, Buffy.”
Then he was kissing her. He couldn’t stand to be here and not kissing her for another blasted second. And immediately, the world around them was forgotten. Her arms flew around his neck and all else fell away. She drove him mad with the simplest look; the slightest touch. The scent of her tears mingled with arousal and the heavy aroma of their lovemaking combined with the needy mewls she murmured into his mouth…and it was all too much. All too soon too much.
“Buffy,” he gasped against her, lifting her in his arms. Her legs automatically wrapped around his waist, her wet pussy sliding against his cock. He carried her into the tub and shoved her against the wall, mauling her mouth with hungry kisses.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”
“Oh God.”
He didn’t know which one of them reached for the shower nozzle. The next second, their bodies were soaked with water, and sensationalism, if possible, escalated even further.
Spike’s thumb pressed against her clit, his mouth swallowing her whimper. “So bloody warm,” he whispered. “Have you the foggiest idea what you do to me, baby?”
Buffy murmured against her lips, her hand curling around his cock. He gasped again at the feel of her moist folds against his skin, the look of absolute adoration that flashed across her face sufficiently doing him in. As though she was as lost as he was. “You do it to me, too,” she replied. “I just hadn’t been upfront about it until now.”
Spike smiled gently and lifted her a little, his mouth sweeping an ardent kiss across her shoulder. “Guess we’re even, then,” he murmured, a long sigh tumbling through his throat when she dug her nails into his skin, his cock slipping inside her sheath. “Ohhh…bleeding hell.”
“What?”
“You feel so good. Gets better every time.”
Buffy arched against the wall and mewled. “You’re just…saying that.”
“Uh huh. Jus’ keep tellin’ yourself that.” She squeezed him tight, eliciting a long whimper. He pressed her against the cold tile, burying his face in the crook of her throat as he thrust steadily inside her pussy in slow, languid strokes. His hands slid under her thighs, driving into her with small whimpers of pure adulation. He licked at her neck, nipped at the claim mark that made her his. Held her against him. Buffy’s arms encircled his throat, and he lost himself in the warm feel of her. The hot sensation of her mouth peppering sweet kisses along his skin.
God, she really loved him. He could feel it with every thrust. Every small sigh that tickled her lips. The way her lips were worshipping him. It was nearly too much. A full reflection of what he had felt for so long; Buffy loved him. Holy Christ, Buffy loved him.
Buffy whimpered a bit as his thrusts grew more frantic and she fell back against the wall, her grip on him tightening. “Ohhhh…”
“Love you,” he swore fervently. “I love you so much.”
“Love you.”
Those words…
How often had he made love to her only to have it turn into fucking? How often had he wanted to whisper those words into her hair, but refrained for the fear of her anger? Of her abandonment? And now, he was truly making love with her, and she loved him back.
Fresh tears stung his eyes.
“You feel so good.” Spike met her eyes, plunging his cock deeper within her with every thrust. He stole a kiss from her lips. “So good,” he murmured, one arm wrapped around her waist to hold her as his other hand danced up her damp skin to cup her breast.
Her inner walls squeezed him again and her teeth found his shoulder. “Spike…”
Oh yes. This was worth it. Centuries of pain had nothing on this. He’d do it all over again if he could only have a day with her.
But they didn’t have a day. They had eternity. She was his mate. She had chosen him.
He felt like he was living in a dreamworld; it was all so surreal.
If he was living in a dream, he never wanted to wake.
“I love you,” Buffy gasped, scratching at his skin. He felt her growing tighter and wetter with every drive; felt heat spread across her body as she approached nirvana. He felt it because it was his pleasure, too. There was nothing that the claim failed to enhance. The feel of her body against his, her sweet kisses across his flesh, the words that tumbled from her lips. Nothing. The claim made everything complete.
“I love you, too.” He slid completely out of her, his cock sliding against her moist skin. The thought that she had even doubted that before he had his memory back nearly undid him. As though there was anything but Buffy. He couldn’t fathom the world without her. “I love you so much.”
“Ooohhh.” Buffy sobbed slightly and clutched him tighter. Her body was tight, hot. Even in the cooling cascade of their personal waterfall, she was a package of fire. She attempted to recapture him with every thrust against her sodden folds, whimpering needily every time he denied her what she wanted. “God, Spike, please.”
He sighed and nodded, kissing her shoulder as he sank within her warmth once more. “Mmmm.”
“Spike—”
“You’re a goddess. My hot, fiery goddess.”
His fingers cupped her pussy, gliding over her sodden flesh and massaging her where they were joined. He caressed her clit in speedy, torturous circuits, hungry eyes taking in every desperate mewl that tore through her throat. She was so gorgeous. His own ray of captured sunlight. Her nails were digging into his shoulders, her teeth marring his skin as he slammed into her. She arched into him, her thrusting hips meeting him with every plunge.
“My Slayer,” he murmured into her hair.
“Oohhh…”
“My beautiful mate.”
“Oh God.” A look of impassioned frustration clouded her face when he pulled out of her again, and he had to smile at the picture she presented. Heaving. Panting. Wanting. She had absolutely no idea what she did to him; never truly had. Seeing her so in need of him was his undoing.
If he told her every day what she meant to him, she would never fully know it. There simply weren’t words enough.
“I love you.”
There were times when he felt himself redundant. There were only so many ways to say it, and every time his sentiment escaped him, he felt it wasn’t sufficient. Wasn’t worthy of the depth of what he felt.
Spike slammed into her again with a cheeky swirl of his hips, his hungry eyes swallowing her face as her head flew back against the tile. Her muscles tightened around him, squeezing him into a new life. Their pants mingled as his plunges grew frantic, and she became tighter and wetter with every thrust. His fingers pushed her closer to climax, his lips dropping to her breasts and laving a wet path around her areola before drawing her nipple into his mouth.
“Oh, Spike…”
“Fuck…”
“Spike!”
He released her breast with a wet plop and met her eyes.
“Gorgeous,” he murmured before drawing her into a heated kiss, tongue exploring every inch of her as his fingers pushed her closer to climax. “Come for me, sweetling,” he gasped. “You’re so close. I can feel it.”
“Spike…”
His head dipped once more, his teeth skimming the mark on her throat lovingly. “Need to taste you,” he murmured. “Need to…”
“Do it.”
He required no further invitation. His fangs burst into his mouth, and then her blood was flowing into his mouth. She was heaven, or as close as he would come to it. A once-angel that had saved him so that he could save her; so that they could save each other.
The second her body exploded around his, it was over. The feel of her pleasure rumbling through his skin sent him spiraling headfirst into ecstasy. He thrust inside her desperately as his body experienced the most exquisite bliss he had ever known. He heard his name on her lips. Felt her muscles wringing him—milking him for everything he had to give. Buffy collapsed against his shoulder as his thrusts stilled, the blood in his mouth nearly surreal.
She was completely his. An eternity could pass, and he still wouldn’t wholly believe it.
He didn’t know how much time passed before she stirred. Before he felt her chuckle rumble against his skin. “We didn’t exactly get clean,” she murmured.
Spike smiled and pulled back so that he could see her eyes. “I wasn’ tryin’ to get you clean,” he retorted insolently.
Her answering grin was all he needed.
Someone had once said that in order to move forward, the past had to be forgotten. There was nothing there that either of them could change; nothing that regret would fix. He didn’t know if that made it better or worse, but there was some solace in the fact that what was done was done, and they had a clean slate. Whatever happened between them was now buried in the future, not dictated by past mistakes.
There were things that were unforgivable. He would never understand how she could so easily pardon him for his sin. A soul was only worth so much. Without her to mold the demon, the man the soul made him into wouldn’t exist. There would be remorse, yes, possibly insanity, but he wouldn’t be as he was now.
William was too much of a ponce to sacrifice himself for the world, even if it meant dying a hero. And while Spike’s motives had resided in the notion that the First had to be put down, he knew the underlying issue was giving the Slayer a world she deserved. A world without pain and suffering. Without daily apocalypses. Without dedicating herself to a calling that did nothing but rob her of everything she cared about.
They had both emerged from personal hells. The future had nothing to do with the past. Not now.
This was it, then. The prize at the end of the tunnel. What had been waiting for him in the dark.
He had something now that he’d never had before. Hope. Hope and love, and it was worth everything. It had taken an eternity, but he had gotten here. He’d faced demons and won. Buffy was in his arms. At his side. And there was love in her eyes.
That, unsurprisingly, was all he needed.
After all, it had been all along.
fin
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