Part XIV
They had only been mated for a few days, but Buffy could already tell that Spike’s overprotective streak had just as much potential to annoy as it did to fill her insides with warmth. Right now, he was being so possessive and vampire-y that she was half tempted to shove him into the nearest mausoleum and seal it shut until the upcoming confrontation was in the past.
It wasn’t that she didn’t love him to pieces for his protectiveness, but it was a little smothering when she could so take him in a fight.
“Spike, for the last time—”
“He’s gonna sense me there, anyway, pet. I don’ see why—”
“—you’re going to have to stay back until it—”
“—we’re even goin’ for the ‘gotcha’ routine. The second I step into the soddin’ graveyard—”
“—becomes absolutely clear that I need—”
“—the gig’s gonna be up. Honestly, one would think—”
Buffy stopped and stomped effectively. “Oh, will you please be quiet? Seriously, Spike, this is only going to work if you—”
He held up a hand, tugging at her with his other until they fell into pace again. “’S not gonna work—period. Oh, don’ gimme that look, pet, you know it as well as I do. Angelus isn’t gonna fall for anythin’. He din’t crawl out of the grave yesterday. If I’m with you, he’s gonna know I’m with you. Doesn’ bloody matter how crafty you are.” He paused. “Really, sweetling, I think he’d be disappointed if you showed up alone. Angelus doesn’ like complacent bait. An’ if you try to pull the wool over his eyes, he’s jus’ gonna be pissed.”
“I think we’re running that risk either way.” Buffy sighed and crossed her arms, shivering despite the southern California heat. “I don’t get why he wants to see me at all,” she said. “It’s not like he needs my permission to destroy the world.”
“No,” Spike agreed, his tone soft as he reached up to stroke her back reassuringly. “But he is drawn to you.”
“Phooey.”
He arched a brow. “You think I’m kiddin’? Fuck, pet, you’re all he talked about. Was drivin’ Darla outta her mind, an’ when Dru wasn’ beggin’ him for his dick, it annoyed her, too. He’s obsessed with you. He was inside purity an’ he can’t get over it.”
Buffy shuddered. “I don’t want him obsessed with me.”
“Believe me, sweetheart, I don’ want him obsessed with you, either. I know the way he gets when he’s obsessed. I’ve seen it.” Spike exhaled sharply and shook his head. “’S why I din’t want you comin’ by yourself. One of many, many reasons.”
“I still say I can handle myself,” she pouted.
Spike grinned and brushed his lips against her cheek. “I have no doubt.”
“Yeah, your overbearing protectiveness really speaks volumes for your confidence in my ability to handle myself.”
“Overbearin’?”
“A little overbearing.”
“Buffy, you’re gettin’ skittish at the thought of how obsessed with you this wanker is! How do you think you’ll handle yourself when—”
“Angelus has no power over me anymore. He can’t play the Angel card, ‘cause I’m not in love with Angel anymore.” She sighed. “And he knows he can’t do that…if he really can feel everything, he knows that you claimed me—”
“An’ since he considers you his personal property, he might feel a bit put out that I took what he sees as his. This might be a way to punish you, luv.” Spike frowned. “An’ if it is…trust me…you’re in no way prepared. He’s been playin’ with you up till this point—tryin’ to drive you daffy like he did Dru. Murderin’ the teacher, breakin’ into your house an’ makin’ sketches of your mum. Spillin’ the truth about poppin’ your cherry.”
Buffy fought off a grin at the jealousy that flashed across her lover’s face. As much as she hated the feeling, she loved it that he got all growly over Angel’s incredibly brief stake on her body. Spike’s possessiveness over her was something she was totally cool with—it empowered her with femininity and confidence. It still overwhelmed her that she could have any means to attract Spike at all—watching him wiggle because he knew that she had once loved another gave her authority that shook her to her core.
Spike shot her a sharp glance, his eyes narrowed. “Think it’s funny, do you?” he demanded.
She tried unsuccessfully to will away her grin. He was just so cute when he was jealous. “I didn’t say anything,” she replied innocently.
“’S not funny,” he retorted, the hand on her back sliding around her waist and hugging her to his side. “An’ I would demonstrate how thoroughly unfunny it is, but I won’ because I’m a gentleman.”
“Pshaw.”
“You’re pushin’ your luck, pet.”
Buffy’s mirth deepened, and she brushed a soft kiss against the nape of his throat, earning a long, sensual purr. “You know I love you, you big dummy,” she said. “And hey, you really can’t be mad that I had a boyfriend before you.”
Granted, the mention of her former boyfriend immediately conjured images of his former girlfriend. And just like that, her own words became her folly. Her stomach churned, and she suddenly experienced a violent twist of the ugly side of jealousy.
Lousy Drusilla.
Spike tossed her a knowing glance and smirked. “Doesn’ feel so good, does it?”
“How’d you know?”
“We’re mated now.”
Grumble. Of course. “Gah. That’s gonna get really old really fast.”
His smirk melted into a gentler smile, and he hugged her closer reassuringly. “Once this is all over, you an’ I’ll have to sneak away some weekend an’…practice blockin’ out our feelings from each other.”
“You can’t…read my thoughts, can you?”
Spike tossed her a coy glance and waggled his brows. “Why? You have some interesting ones?”
“Spike…”
“’S okay. I already knew I am a better shag than Angel.”
“SPIKE!”
“Li’l louder, pet, an’ every hope of a surprise attack’s gonna go out the window.”
“My God…” She shook her head and crossed her arms in a mock-pout, though she couldn’t keep herself from giggling when he tickled her side and nibbled affectionately at her neck. “Freak,” she said, though there was no venom behind it.
He was grinning like an idiot now, and he looked so happy and carefree that she couldn’t help the surge of pride that commanded her. Just a few days ago, he’d been a miserable shell of a man who couldn’t think but to destroy the source of his pain. He’d been fueled with agony and drunk with despair, and now he was happy-smiley-guy who totally loved her and made her burn every time he met her eyes.
“I can’t read your thoughts,” he finally admitted. “But I can sense how you’re feelin’. Since the claim is so new, I’m guessin’ all of your emotions are jus’ hittin’ me at full force.”
“Bad?”
“No. I rather like knowin’ when you’re horny.”
She blushed and glanced down. “Meanie.” A beat. “Why can’t I feel you and all of your pervy horniness?”
Spike was quiet for a moment. “’Cause you din’t claim me, sweetling.”
“I didn’t?”
“No.”
“Why? You didn’t tell me…” Buffy jutted out her lower lip. “Why didn’t you tell me? I thought we’d done everything. I made it final, didn’t I? By accepting—”
“Yeah, luv. It’s final.”
“Then why—”
“Claimin’ me means you’d feel everythin’ I feel.” He paused meaningfully. “An’ I do mean everything. The bloodlust an’ the Buffylust. And then the lust for Buffy-blood. An’ everything in between.” Spike sighed and glanced to the ground. “I don’ know if I want you to know that about me yet.”
“Know what?”
“I’m a monster. You know it, yeh, but you haven’ felt it. I’d never want you to feel me feelin’ what I do, especially since we’re both so new to this.” He shook his head. “I’m evil, through an’ through. You might be my conscience, pet, but that doesn’ make the evil thoughts go away. They’re there—I jus’ stopped listenin’ to them.”
Buffy frowned. It wasn’t as though she didn’t understand his logic—because she was total understand-o girl. There was something incredibly wigsome in the idea that she might experience bloodlust via her connection to her mate. However, a larger part of her knew that the reward would completely justify whatever she had to put herself through to get to the good stuff. A part of being with Spike was accepting Spike as he was, and refusing to ignore the demon—the part of him that was and would always be evil and monstrous.
He was shielding her. She knew he was shielding her. As much as he loved and trusted her, there was a part of him that didn’t believe she could ever accept him wholly as he was.
Well, she wasn’t going to be chased off like that. It might be hard at first, but it’d be totally worth it in the end.
They were in this together, through and through.
“What if I said I wanted it?” she asked softly. “If I said it was worth it…I wanna share something like that with you.”
Spike drew in a sharp breath, tightening his arm around her middle. “You do share it with me, sweetling. Trust me, you’re gettin’ the better end of the deal. We have the connection, an’ you—”
“But I want—”
“You don’ know what it means.”
“I’ll find out.”
He paused sharply and shook his head. “You love me now.”
“I’ll love you still.”
“Maybe, but things are bloody perfect the way they are. I don’ wanna muck it up. I don’t want to risk you…lookin’ at me any different.” His head dipped and he kissed her brow, a ragged sigh shuddering through his body. “I want you to keep loving me.”
“I do.”
“Yes.”
“And even if—”
“Buffy, no. I can’t…” Spike drew in a deep breath and shook his head. “It’s too important to me. You can’t know that nothin’ will change, and I can’t risk losing you over somethin’ like this.”
“We’re mated. You can’t lose me.”
A small, poignant smile tickled his lips. “Oh, I can, luv. An’ then not only will you not love me anymore, but I’ll spend the rest of eternity knowin’ exactly how miserable you are. How much you hate me.”
“Spike, I won’t—”
“You don’t know that.”
“And you don’t know that the world will end if I claim you back.”
“Since I know how things are right now, I’m reasonably secure in sayin’ it’s better to stay like this forever than risk losin’ it all because I’m a vampire.” Spike sighed again, his shoulders rolling back. “Try to understand, luv, this is more than I’ve ever had. More than I ever thought I’d have…an’ the thought of jeopardizin’ what we have jus’…I can’t wrap my mind around it.”
“Spike—”
“You can’t be sure of anythin’. An’ I’m sure that havin’ you like this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, an’ I’d just as soon dust as bet against the House.”
Buffy sighed and bit her lip. This wasn’t a fight she was going to win. Not right now.
But he was in for a big surprise if he thought the conversation was over.
*~*~*
He smelled her before he saw her, but that didn’t ward off the shock at all.
It happened just a few minutes after Buffy fell silent about the reciprocal claiming, and for that, Spike was glad. He felt her dissatisfaction as strongly as if it were his own, and had the terrible notion that he was dangerously close to giving in. And giving in was not an option—not when he knew that it could cost him everything.
Darla was not one to carry weapons. She was completely old-school in that regard, saw weapons as a weakness; she felt that anyone who relied on weapons was compensating for strength they didn’t truly possess. Spike supposed this was one of many reasons why it was so disconcerting to see her hand curled around the handle of a rather large, abrasive sword.
The look in her eyes didn’t do him any favors, either. The second her cold gaze met his, his fangs burst through his gums and his throat erupted with a snarl. “Oh, is that it?” he demanded. “A set-up?”
Buffy tensed at his side, whipping out a stake from her back pocket. “What the hell is this?” she demanded. “You two were gonna lure the Slayer out here and tag-team it? How pathetic are you?”
Darla stopped in her tracks, tossed Spike a dry look, and rolled her eyes. “Oh please,” she drawled. She kicked the stake out of Buffy’s hand without blinking, her hands coming up the next second in some mock-semblance of a truce. “If I was here to kill you, you’d be dead by now.”
“Over-confident bitch,” Buffy all but growled. “Just try it.”
“I reiterate, ‘oh please.’” She eyed Spike, thoroughly unimpressed. “Can’t you pull the reins on her or something? Or should I have come with the proverbial white flag?”
The Slayer balked. “Excuse me?”
“What the hell is this?” Spike snarled, struggling to push Buffy behind him as she collected her fallen stake. The fierce surge to protect his mate had overwhelmed his sense of logic. “Are you wankers so fucking desperate that you’re willin’ to pull anything?”
Darla blinked. “Wow, did you drop the ball, or what?”
“You smug—”
“You know what? You’re right. This was a bad, bad idea.” She shook her head and sighed emphatically, thrusting the sword into Spike’s arms. “There? Does that make you feel any better?”
He blinked dumbly and glanced to Buffy, then to the sword, then up again. “All right. You jus’ handed me a sword.”
“Wow, William. Can’t put anything past you.”
“What the hell is this?”
“That’s a sword.”
“I know that. What the hell is it doin’ in my hand?”
“Well, you were freaking out when I was holding it, so I gave it to you to make you feel better.” Darla flashed him a condescending smile, then glanced to Buffy and rolled her eyes again. “God, call your girlfriend off.”
Buffy smiled sweetly, her stake arm never faltering. “Sorry, honey. I’ve been told not to trust trash when it talks.”
“You know, any other day I’d rip your throat out, but since I don’t really care about you at the moment, I’m gonna let that slide.” She turned back to Spike and nodded at the sword. “A couple days ago, Dru got a vision from…oh, fuck if I know…the postman or something.”
He frowned. “What the hell—”
Darla held up a hand. “I don’t know. I don’t want to know. I’ve never pretended to understand her, and I’m not about to start now. Either way, her vision led us to the sword, which was intercepted on its way to Slutty the Vampire Layer’s watcher.”
In the world of all things Darla, the insult was rather tame. Incredibly tame. However, the demon within him roared in outrage, and the next thing he knew, Buffy’s arm was around his middle, keeping him from tearing his sanctimonious great-grandsire’s head off. “You fucking bitch!” he snarled. “I oughta rip your tongue out an’ shove it down your throat.”
Darla stifled a chuckle. “Yeah, but you’re on a leash.” She grinned at Buffy. “He really is incredibly easy to train, isn’t he?”
The Slayer’s eyes were cold and uncompromising. “Talk,” she said shortly. “Make it quick. Make it good. Make it worth my time, or I’ll add you to the pollen count.”
“Ohhh, feisty!”
“Talk!”
Darla’s eyes sparkled mischievously, but she nodded her compliance and exhaled slowly. “The sword is from…” She drifted off with a frown, then sniffed suspiciously at the air. “Oh my God!” she gasped, waving a hand in front of her nose. “Jesus, you claimed her?”
Spike and Buffy exchanged a skeptical glance. “You’re just now picking that up?” the Slayer asked.
“I make a point to ignore everything that I feel coming from Spike’s side of the Order.” She shook her head in disgust. “But goddamn, I thought you had at least some dignity. I mean, you finally got up the nerve to leave Dru, albeit dick-led by the Slayer, and you claim her?”
Spike was snarling again. “Talk,” he growled. “Or so help me, I will kill you.”
“It’d be funny to see you try.”
“The sword, Darla. You’re on borrowed time.”
“Right, right.” She rolled her eyes again. “The sword’s from the other slayer. She sent it a few days ago.”
Buffy froze, and Spike froze along with her. “What?” she demanded. “What did you do to Kendra? I swear to God—”
“Do you listen when other people talk, little girl? I told you—postman. Intercepted mail. There was some lame note saying that her watcher felt that you already had all the help you needed.” Darla shot a pointed look in Spike’s direction. “I’m assuming she meant you. The sword is…something to do with Acathla. It was blessed by the knight who killed him. I guess it was the fallback plan. If Angelus manages to wake him up…” She nodded at the sword. “This is probably the best way to stop it.”
Spike glanced down at the aforementioned sword, his brows perked. “Yeh, okay. An’ I’m holding it…why?”
“You know, I’d almost forgotten how thick you are. I was this close to forgetting.”
“Darla—”
“I want you to stop it. The end of the world. The apocalypse. My God, do you need me to spell it out for you?”
Buffy arched a brow. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Oh, were it so simple.”
“Lemme get this straight…you came out to meet us with a sword and we’re suddenly supposed to stop the apocalypse?”
“Yes.” Darla tossed her hands up. “I know, I know. I can hardly believe it myself. It’s your fault. You fucked with his head and now he needs to compensate for being a soul-drenched Slayer-fucking wimp for a century by, well, destroying the world. And as good an idea as that is on paper, I kinda happen to like the way things are now.” She glanced to the sword. “So there it is. You stop the end of the world, I’ll take Angelus somewhere and break him.”
“Break him?” Buffy repeated.
“Undo the damage you did.”
“Yeah, let me list the reasons that’s not happening. Starting with, oh yeah, he killed Ms. Calendar!”
Darla’s eyes narrowed. “Okay. Let’s do it this way. You let us go or the world gets destroyed. He was mine first, and you’ve trained a new lapdog.”
Buffy made a face. “Oh please. It’ll be a cold day in Hell before I touch Angel again.”
“And here I thought you were still bitter that you got stuck with the consolation prize.”
Surprisingly, that didn’t bother him all that much. It stung, sure, but the pang was familiar now. He was tempered—controlled—and didn’t much give a damn what the old bitch said.
That didn’t explain the sudden urge of rage that coursed through him, or the predatory growl that tore through his mate’s throat. The next thing he knew, Buffy had torn herself from his side, and Darla was on the ground.
“You skanky ho-bitch, if you ever insult me or my mate again, I will personally rededicate the rest of my life to ruining the rest of yours. Do you get me?” She kicked the moaning vampire in the gut again. “Do you get me? I’ll chain you up some place and keep you alive until you’re begging to be dust. I’ll starve you until you rot, feed you, then starve you again. I’ll stick a stake in your chest just inches from your heart, and saw off your arms and legs so I can watch you wiggle. I’ll tear you apart. Understand? I’ll tear you apart.” Buffy flipped her over, delivering a vicious backhand. “You think I’m bluffing? Try me. So shut up and settle with the idea that, if I decide to go along with this crazy scheme of yours, you’re stuck with Angel and his needle-dick for the rest of your miserable, meaningless existence.”
Spike was dumbfounded. Absolutely dumbfounded.
Oh holy fuck.
She was feeding off him—feeding off of his demon, even when she couldn’t feel it. When she wasn’t supposedto be able to feel it. There was no other explanation. The fury in Buffy’s eyes wasn’t hers—not entirely. It was theirs; it was shared pain accumulated into mutual outrage. The words tumbling from her gorgeous lips weren’t hers, either. She was tapped into him—body and the other thing—and she felt everything that he felt.
Perhaps he was channeling it to her subconsciously. Perhaps that was why he hadn’t felt his own outrage—he’d poured everything he had into her.
“Buffy,” he said softly, stepping forward. “It’s all right.”
She glanced up, the haze leaving her eyes when she met his. “Huh?”
“It’s all right, sweetling. Let her up. She can’t hurt anyone right now.”
And she couldn’t. Darla was thoroughly defanged—defanged and humiliated. Her face was a mixture of bloody bruises and cuts, and she had to hold her stomach as she fought to her feet.
Spike stepped in front of Buffy again, handing her the sword. The rage had drained away, leaving her confused and shaken. Her eyes were on the ground. He didn’t want her to have to look at Darla again. She shouldn’t have to see what his fury had done—what he’d managed to accomplish simply by being her mate.
It wasn’t fair to her, especially when she didn’t understand what had just happened.
“Darla,” he said, his tone low. “Where is Angelus now?”
Spike had to admit that it was rather gratifying to watch his great-grandsire struggle to find words. She was battered and bleeding. Her blonde hair was streaked with red. And despite his shame, he felt a surge of pride at the thought that Buffy had enough of her own anger to do that to her. To stand up for him where Drusilla never had.
She’d hit her friend a few days ago, and now she’d practically ripped Darla apart.
“Where’s Angelus? I won’ ask again.”
“He’s…um…” She shook her head with a sigh. “He’s waiting for you. Restfield.”
“Why did he want to see me?” Buffy demanded, fighting to find her voice.
“It’s a diversion. He can’t get Acathla to wake up, and he needed you out in the open so that your friends would be somewhere unprotected.” At that, Darla straightened her shoulders and sighed, resolve setting in once more. “He wants your watcher.”
“Giles won’t talk,” the Slayer insisted. “And besides…they’re somewhere where Angelus can’t reach them. They’re at—”
“His house.” Darla sighed, appearing for the first time since Spike had known her to be thoroughly exhausted. “Wood is still flammable, right?”
Buffy inhaled sharply. “Oh God.”
“That’s right.”
Spike curled a hand around her wrist. “Buffy…”
There was no time to think. He felt it the second before she took off. The Slayer tore through the night like a silver bullet, and he was hot on her heels.
*~*~*
The sky was on fire. The lawn was littered with people; stupid, gawking people who wanted to watch the world burn its way into Hell.
She saw Oz before she saw anyone else, and ran so hard that her legs ached. He was on the ground just a few feet away from what had been Giles’s front door, cradling an unconscious Willow. There was no sense asking what had happened.
She’d walked into Angelus’s trap. God, she fell for it every single time.
“Oh God,” Buffy gasped, a hand going to her mouth. “Is she…?”
Oz shook his head. “No. The ambulance is on its way.”
“What about the boy?” Oh thank God. Spike was there. She’d nearly forgotten that he’d followed her. “Harris. Where is he?”
“He and Cordelia hopped into Cordy’s car to follow them.”
“Them?”
Oz glanced up. “Drusilla.”
Buffy froze and reality collapsed. “Giles,” she said.
Drusilla had Giles. Angelus had Giles. And the sky was on fire.
She glanced down. She still had the sword. Kendra’s sword. The one to stop Acathla.
The one to stop Angelus and Drusilla, and lay waste to her enemies.
They had her watcher. There would be no further negotiations.
All bets were off.
TBC |
