A/N: Okay. Whew! And this is the end, folks. Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to read/review/email me about this fic. I can’t believe I finally got a long fic done in less than 20 parts.
Major, major thanks to Megan, Mari, Jen, and Teri for betaing! And to Seven Seasons for giving me the excuse to finally write a Season 2 fic.
Whew. Now, finally, back to GoCR (though I’ll have to reread it to get back in the mood) and the continuation of the revamp!YBR.
Thank you all so much again! *snuggles*
Part XVII
Buffy stared at the white cream of the motel wall. It was strange being back here, lying in the same room she’d shared with Spike only a couple weeks ago. A couple weeks ago when her life had been less with the sense-making and more with the emotional breakdown. He’d brought her here after beating her within an inch of her life, and slowly, she’d started to live again.
Of course, in her wildest imagination, she never would have guessed that she’d ever see this hellhole again. She never would have guessed what a relief it was to be in a room that had nothing that belonged to her. She never would have guessed that she’d enter this room as the mate of a vampire.
Buffy exhaled slowly and shifted. She’d been awake for a while now, just staring at the wall and thinking. Was it fair to assert that her life had ever made sense? If it had, she was sure she’d missed it. There must have been a time when she could have said no. When she could have ditched the whole sacred calling thing and returned to her regularly scheduled life. And even if her attempt wasn’t successful, she could say she’d tried.
But then, she didn’t really want that. She was just hurting. She was hurting, and she didn’t know why.
Probably because Angel was still alive. After all he’d put her through, all that he’d done, she still hadn’t been able to stake him. However, she had practically ripped him to shreds with her hands. Maybe that was the thing that bothered her. How quickly he’d gone from being the one she loved to the one she had to be pried off of before she beat him to dust.
She knew that Spike thought it was his fault. That he’d channeled his demon into her—as he had when she’d attacked Darla earlier that night—but he was wrong. Buffy knew what his demon felt like. For the past few days, she’d attempted to reach out to him—to his dark side—and the couple times she’d been successful, she’d come to know the demon personally.
She was beginning to wish she’d just met Spike haphazardly, persuaded him to fall madly in love with her, claim her, and have everything they had now sans the baggage. No Angelus. No Angel. No Drusilla. No dusty Drusilla. No Darla. No Acathla. No apocalypse. She was sick of choosing between her personal life and what was best for the world. She wanted this—what they had right now. She wanted to spend all her nights without worrying about tomorrow.
She wanted something she could never have.
The mansion already seemed decades in the past. After finding Giles, they had dropped him by the hospital, run home and posted a hastily-scribbled note to her mother, and Spike had brought her here. The second the door closed behind them, she’d turned and leapt into his arms, and they’d made love for what felt like hours.
Now Spike was still beside her. He wasn’t sleeping; she could feel his eyes wandering over her body. Occasionally, he’d run his hand down her back, brush her hair over her shoulder, or whisper something that he didn’t intend for her to answer. Small things. Huge things.
She felt him vibrantly, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted more.
She needed more.
Spike dropped his lips to her shoulder, his hand sliding across her back sensually. “I heard that.”
“I thought you couldn’t read my thoughts.”
“I can sense your feelings.”
Buffy sighed and turned over, enjoying the way his eyes glazed over with lust at the sight of her breasts. As though he hadn’t sucked them tender just a couple hours ago. She wondered if he’d always get a kick out of her body. If, after six hundred and eleven years, she could turn over in bed and inspire him to all sorts of naughty thoughts.
Spike gave her a look. “I heard that, too.”
She smirked. “Peeping Tom.”
“Don’t you mean eavesdropper?”
“You can’t eavesdrop on things you can’t technically hear.”
“Oh, but you can watch them, is that it?” He returned her smirk and leaned forward, laving her right nipple with his tongue. “An’, to answer your question, you daft bint, I’ll always want you. Always. I’m bloody addicted to you. Whatever time we have will never be enough. Could last forever an’ it’d never be enough.”
She flushed and slapped his bare chest. “Sap,” she accused fondly, her eyes dancing and the corners of her mouth itching upward in a smile.
“Well, at leas’ I got a grin.”
“Doesn’t take much.”
He smiled gently and brushed a kiss across her brow. “You wanna chat up what happened tonight?” he asked. “’S all right if you need to talk about it, sweetling. He was your honey bear, an’ you—”
“I’d’ve beaten him into a bloody pile of dust if you hadn’t stopped me.”
Guilt flashed across his face. It was fleeting, but very present. “That was my fault.”
“No, it really wasn’t.”
“Buffy—”
She pressed a finger to his lips and shook her head. “It wasn’t. Believe me, my life would be easier if it was. Yeah, I was kinda juiced on Spike rage for my wail-out on Darla. But Angel? That was all me.” She shuddered. “I didn’t think I had that sort of fury in me, really. I didn’t think it was possible for me to…but evidently, it is in a big way. When he said my name, everything just came rushing forward and…God, I just really, really hated him in that moment. And I needed to rip him to shreds. He took everything from me and spat on it.” A pause. “But then…without him, I wouldn’t have you, would I?”
Spike smiled again, kissing her shoulder. “I would’ve found you.”
“How?”
“Somehow.”
“And we’re back to the sap thing.”
“Yeh, well, callin’ me a sap doesn’ make it any less true. You’re the Slayer. I’d’ve found you.”
“But love me?”
“Always.”
Buffy licked her lips, her eyes growing serious again. “And Dru?” she asked softly. “Spike, you killed Dru.”
He nodded. “I know, pet. I was there.”
If he was deliberately trying to guard his emotions, he was doing an admirable job. Buffy couldn’t sense a thing—not a thing—and while he might think he was protecting her, it only made her curse the dominantly one-way claim all the more. She didn’t want any part of him to be shut out from her—even the parts that he felt would hurt. The parts that he feared she wouldn’t like.
Hating Drusilla, though, wouldn’t make her memory die. It wouldn’t erase the century he’d spent with her; all the times he’d told her that he loved her, all the times he’d taken solace inside her body, all the times he’d sworn to her that he was hers, eternally, and that no woman would ever take her place. Spike might belong to Buffy now, but a very real part of him would always be Drusilla’s. Her memory would follow him, even in death, and one day he’d have to answer to the reality that he’d killed her because the claim told him to. Because of the stupid protection ritual that Giles had insisted they do. And the thought was nearly more than Buffy could bear.
“You know, you’re terribly cute when you’re wrong off your arse.”
Buffy blinked and scowled, hitting his chest again. The laugh that rumbled beneath her fingers warmed her heart, but it did little to change reality. “Stop prying in my thoughts!”
“Feelings,” he corrected, propping up an elbow and resting his cheek against a closed fist.
“Well, my feelings are being pretty damn specific.”
Spike shrugged. “Jus’ call it like I see it, baby. You’re wrong. I know what feelings are related to what. Your jealousy, your insecurities, your fears about the future…all of that. I’ve gotten good at readin’ them.”
Her frown deepened. “I really need a padlock on my feelings.”
“One of the many things we’ll work on, but for now, I jus’ gotta tell you, you’re wrong.” He paused meaningfully. “It wasn’ the claim, or the sodding ritual, or anythin’ else made me kill Dru. I’d know it otherwise. I’d’ve felt it. In the end, I din’t need any help seein’ what was right in front of me. I killed her because she was hurting you. I love you, I don’ love her. Once, yes, but not now. I’ll always be grateful to her…bringin’ me here. Bringin’ me to you. But jus’ because she was my tour-guide doesn’ get her a ‘get-outta-jail-free’ card. She was hurting you.”
“But she wasn’t killing me.”
“That’s right.” He blinked. “No one hurts my girl. You understand?”
She flushed. “I can take care of myself, Spike. I’m pretty much a self-made woman.”
“Yeh, an’ I like playin’ hero every now an’ again. An’ just because you can take care of yourself doesn’ mean I can’t worry about you, or get mad as fucking hell when I see you bleed.” Instinctively, he reached for the place on her throat where Dru had clawed her, and his eyes darkened. “She did this. She hurt you. No one gets to hurt you.”
Buffy swallowed hard. “You know you beat me to a pulp once.”
“Bygones.”
“Well, not if you ask Giles.”
“I jus’ helped avert the bloody apocalypse an’ carried the bloke to the nearest emergency room. You tellin’ me he’s not gonna let go of his sodding grudge?”
“I’m telling you that he’s my surrogate father and he’s not prone to forget things like seeing me all bloody and limpy.”
Spike pouted, and for a second, she saw a second wave of guilt color his eyes. “Yeh, well, not my shinin’ moment, but you can’t ask me to regret it. It brought me to you.” He paused. “Besides, you din’t put up a fight.”
“I so did!”
“Yeh, if your best defense is lyin’ on your stomach while the Big Bad kicks your slayer arse.”
“It was all a part of the plan.”
He arched a brow. “Oh really?”
“Yes, really.”
“You had a plan that involved gettin’ your delectable rear handed to you?”
“Well, naturally.” She beamed. “You got all guilty and fell madly in love with me, as men are prone to do.” A quick nod of affirmation. “All a part of the master plan.”
“That certainly played out in your favor, then, din’t it?”
“I’ll say.” Buffy grinned and kissed him softly. “So…do we have a plan?”
“Another plan, you mean?”
“Yeah. About, well…us. I’m thinking the claim’s not gonna let us live apart very long. And my mom still doesn’t know about you.” She flushed. “Or me, for that matter. So I guess we need to sit down with her, explain what I am, what you are…what we are to each other and if she doesn’t ship me off to the nearest asylum, work out an arrangement.” She was quiet for a minute, then her eyes lit up. “Oooh! Maybe you can move into our basement!”
Spike arched a brow. “Your basement?”
“Well, I don’t think she’d be in favor of her daughter moving out at seventeen. Especially when we’ve just broken the news that my life is in danger every night.” Buffy’s grin broadened. “Plus I’m in love with a vampire, and that might wig her out a bit more.”
“You haven’ even broken the news to her, an’ you’re assumin’ she’s gonna have a prejudice against vamps?”
“Spike, name one movie that features vamps in a positive light.”
He pouted at her. “’S bad advertisin’, is what it is.”
“Yeah. How many people have you killed again?”
“I’m choosin’ to ignore that.”
“Point being, my mom’s not gonna be too happy with this situation, and it might be good if we stuck it out at my house for a while.”
He domed a brow. “Yeah, an’ tell her to ignore all the screaming an’ panting an’ crashing sounds that come from downstairs? If you think I’m gonna be able to keep my hands to myself, you’ve got another thing comin’.”
“Literally, I’m guessing.”
Spike’s eyes darkened with passion. “Bloody right.”
“Well, I still wanna go away. Far away. And the school year’s nearly up, so maybe you can take me away for the summer. We can work on…” She blushed again at his look and sank down against the mattress. “Stuff.”
“Mind-readin’?”
“More like mind blocking. I like my privacy.”
“I like knowin’ when you’re horny.”
“We’ve already had this conversation.”
Spike shrugged. “Still like knowin’ it. But yeh, pet, I’m right with you. I don’ want you to have to guard yourself from me, but at the same time, you have what’s yours an’ no one—myself included—can take that from you.” He ran a hand down her arm softly, wrapping his fingers around her wrist, tugging her toward him as he slid beneath her coolly, so that she was sprawled across his chest. “I told you mine,” he said softly, and the sudden seriousness in his tone threw her for a loop. “An’ no matter how good I am at sensin’ feelings, I wanna know…”
“What?”
He swallowed hard and looked away. “Angel.”
Buffy stiffened perceptively, then sighed and shrugged. “It’s okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Sure and more than sure.”
“You’re okay?”
“Very okay.”
“Sweetling, you—”
“I wigged and then some, yes. I just…I was so mad. I didn’t think I’d be so mad when I saw him. Really, I didn’t know what to think.” She dropped a kiss across his chest and sighed again. “I thought I’d done a good job in convincing myself that he and Angelus were two different people. But when he looked at me—soul and all—all I felt was…”
“Rage,” Spike supplied gently.
She nodded. “Yeah. And like I said earlier, it was all mine. All of it. He killed Ms. Calendar. He tried to kill my mom. He tortured Giles. He played mind games with my friends, was mean to you, and threatened to do really nasty things to me. And having him…I’m glad Willow was able to pull it off. Yay, Willow. But…it didn’t change things, the way I’d expected things to change. I’d expected to forgive him, stupid as that sounds.”
“No, kitten. It’s what I expected, too.”
Buffy shook her head, her eyes blank. “I can’t imagine forgiving him now. How could I ever consider forgiving him? After what he’s done? What he did to me? To you? God, I hate him. I hate him.”
His lips brushed against her brow. “You won’ always.”
“Yes, I will.”
“Buffy…”
But he didn’t say anything. He just trailed off and looked at her, a mixture of happiness warring with astonishment in his eyes. And perhaps he was right—perhaps a time would come when she didn’t hate Angel. When she would be able to meet him again and not feel the urge to make him dust. It wasn’t now, though. Right now she hated him. She hated every inch of him.
The only good thing Angel had done was bring her to Spike. Spike, who filled her with warmth every time he looked at her. Buffy held his eyes for a few minutes, then smiled and lowered her mouth to his.
In a thousand years, she didn’t think she’d ever grow tired of his kiss. Or the way he moaned and stretched beneath her. The way he held her shoulders as his tongue explored her mouth, before his hands slid down her body, helping her as she straddled his waist, rubbing herself wantonly against his cock.
“You’re not sore?” he asked gently, reaching between them to position himself between her slick pussy lips.
Buffy’s brow flickered challengingly. “Are you?”
He studied her eyes a long minute, then the smirk returned tenfold as she lowered herself onto his cock, wiggling in his lap. “Minx,” he growled, his mouth claiming hers again. “My gorgeous, fiery minx.”
“My pretty, snarky vampire,” she shot back, her hands seizing his shoulders and squeezing. She rotated her hips, slowly lifting herself from his lap until just the head of his cock was still inside her. Then she slid down, and took him in to the hilt until their curls mingled. It was blissful torture; she loved the look on his face. She loved the helplessness that spread through his eyes, demanding that she give in and gallop him into oblivion but simultaneously indulging every slow, deliciously agonizing second.
Spike attempted to scowl and failed miserably. “Not pretty,” he moaned, massaging her ass encouragingly as she rode him. “Oh, fuck, pet, you feel so good.”
“You’re not so bad yourself.”
He clenched his teeth, his fingers bruising her hips. “I aim to please.”
“Your aim has always been right on target.”
“Minx,” he said again.
“Yup.”
“Don’t know what you do to me.”
Buffy flashed him a cheeky smile and winked, leaning forward until her breasts were pressed against his chest, her heart pounding against silence. Spike hissed out another long moan, his mouth skating across her shoulder as his eyes fell shut.
“Oh,” she replied, her vaginal muscles squeezing his cock mercilessly as her hungry eyes drank in every flash of ecstasy to grace his face. “I think I know exactly what I do to you.”
Spike opened one eye. “You’re pretty confident for a girl I could beat to a pulp anytime I like.”
“This world of delusion you live in…” Buffy sat up, her hands finding purchase on his chest as she began to ride him in earnest. “It’s nice, right?”
There was a muffled moan in response. Spike threw his head back and whimpered. “Bloody fantastic.”
“Which?”
“Everythin’. You. The world. The world that has you in it.”
Buffy wasn’t surprised to feel her cheeks burn. He could do that. She was bouncing on his cock, and he could make her blush. He could make her insides quiver with the power of just one glance. And God, she loved that about him. She loved that with him, it was never just one thing. No; he wanted her to enjoy a rainbow of experience, and he gave it to her with everything he had.
God, she loved him. She loved everything about him, even the stuff that wasn’t good. The stuff he wanted to keep from her. She loved that, too. She loved it because it had molded him, in ways both good and bad, into the man he was today. The man who was sucking at her nipples as he massaged her backside. The man who showed her love with play, and how being together didn’t mean being alone together. And while it would take time, eventually, her life wouldn’t consist of separate categories for friends, family, and Spike. She could be with him and be Buffy, too. She could be with him and be the Slayer. It wasn’t one or the other.
Even if her Watcher, her friends, and her mother didn’t understand now—or even know to understand—she knew they would someday. She didn’t know how she knew it; she just did. And that knowledge gave her peace.
Buffy had everything she wanted at her fingertips. Everything aside from one thing.
One thing that she was determined to take.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Spike gasped, their pace exploding into frenzy. He drew her down for a heated kiss, brushing strands of hair away from her sweat-laced forehead. “Could watch you all day. All bloody day. Love this. God, how I love this.” He kissed her again, pressing his brow to hers. “Love you. You feel so wonderful. So hot an’ tight. Love you. Love you so much. Ride me, baby. Oh, yeah, jus’ like that. Feel so good. So good.”
Buffy just nodded, her head dropping to his shoulder. “Unh…”
“So good.”
She nodded again, her mouth running dry. Perhaps, one day, she would be comfortable with vocalizing how incredible he felt sliding in out of her body, how he made her clit throb and her body sizzle. Perhaps. However, even with as much as they’d done together, putting actions into words was still hard for her.
Thankfully, Spike said enough for both of them.
He tugged her down and brushed a kiss across her nipple. “Tell me you love me,” he pleaded softly.
“I love you.”
“How much, Buffy?”
“So much.”
He smiled into her eyes and nodded, his left hand finally slipping between them, his fingers sliding over her clit. “I love you, too,” he replied softly, massaging her tenderly. “That feel good, kitten?”
“Ohhhh…” She nodded furiously, her pussy swallowing his cock in a fury of desperate thrusts. “Spike!”
“Tell me how it feels.”
She glared at him. He grinned back unrepentantly. Oh yeah. He knew exactly what he was doing.
“Can’t you…feel…how it…feels?” she demanded between pants.
“Ohhhhh, yeah,” he purred. “I jus’ wanna hear it from you.”
The tease in his voice pushed her over the edge. She was bouncing frantically, gyrating her hips against his as his fingers rubbed her clit, and his voice—that damned cocky tone of his—made her tremble into orgasm.
And in a moment of blind ecstasy, she stole her one thing.
Spike didn’t realize her intent until her teeth clamped down on his neck. He yelped in shock, his hands flying to her hips as he spurted inside her. The sound that tore through his lips was a stirring combination of horror, bliss, and hope. And when she said the word, the one word that would give her everything that she wanted, he moaned in protest.
“Mine.”
“Oh Christ. Buffy, you can’t—”
She shook her head desperately and licked at his blood, shuddering slightly. The coppery taste that filled her mouth was neither pleasant nor unpleasant. It was hers. “Mine!” Her vision blurred with tears at the broken look on his face, and she lapped at him again. “Spike, please!”
He looked at her a second longer before his eyes fluttered shut in defeat. “Bloody hell, Buffy, you know I’m yours. I’m all yours. Yours for sodding eternity.”
She jerked and gasped, her body spasming again. And she felt it. She felt everything. The last gate between them was finally wide open, and the flood came rushing in. And she felt everything. Everything. Her world was split in two. She felt his agony, his anger, his fury, his wrath, his bloodlust, his lust, his passion, his uncertainties, his doubt, his kindness, his caring, his jealousy, his fear—and above all, she felt his love. His love for her. His love for her that had defeated all of the baser instincts of his demon. The thing that should have made her run simply made her tremble in awe. That anyone could feel the wealth that he did—the polarities of what he felt—and surpass it all with love was more than she could handle. He embodied beauty. He was a dark, fallen seraph that still looked to the heavens for grace. He held her and loved her, and while he was possessed with violence and fury, he was owned by love and compassion.
Buffy didn’t realize she was crying until he trembled beneath her, raising his hand to her cheek.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he said softly, his eyes bathed in fear. “I told you. I bloody told you. Why din’t you listen to me? I—”
She shook her head furiously and curled her arms under his shoulders, peppering his face with soft, sweet kisses. “You’re beautiful,” she gasped. “You’re so beautiful, Spike.”
He stilled, barely willing to hope.
“Buffy?”
“I love you. I love you forever. You’re so beautiful.” Her lips grazed his temple, and she pressed her cheek to his. “And you’re mine.”
Spike shivered, gently turning her chin until she was looking at him. His eyes searched hers for a long minute, and when he found what he was looking for, his entire being dissolved in bliss.
And she felt it. God, she felt everything.
“Oh Buffy…”
Then he was kissing her desperately, and the world around her faded. His kisses were molten. He tasted of tears, cigarettes, and grace. And she loved him.
He had her under him and was moving inside her again, slowly, kissing away her tears as he cried his own. Her name was a prayer on his lips, and with every amen, she felt how much he loved her.
He held her and trembled. She kissed his brow and ran her fingers through his hair.
The future didn’t matter right now. The road ahead would be a long one, but it didn’t matter. They would face their obstacles. They would slam through barriers. They would defeat whatever stood in their way, and they would do it together. They would move stars.
For now, though, the world was silent.
And Buffy and Spike, coiled together, rested in self-made grace.
fin
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