Chapter Eleven
The Farther One Travels
The Bronze.
She attempted to recall the number of reasons she had given herself when she’d decided to come here tonight. She felt misplaced and cold; her skin terribly aware of the heat compressing the bodies of others around her. The music was intolerably loud, but strangely no more so than every other time she had come to this place with the intention of burning off some non-slayage steam. It was as though her ears were hearing for the first time.
There were so many things about vampirism that she didn’t understand. Spike liked loud music. She didn’t. Spike could breathe without it hurting; she was getting there. They both liked warm blood. Little things like that—things that were so obvious now—were things she had never associated with lacking a heartbeat. Being raped of the ability to walk in sunlight.
And now with the steady drumming of so many heartbeats, the promise of warm blood with every body that surrounded her, racing pulses and the deafening cadence of life—life that she lacked. Warmth that she lacked. Her fangs were piercing her gums with the need to drink. And she was here because she wanted to see if she could take it.
She couldn’t.
Especially when she saw her friends at a table beneath the eagle view of the balcony. Her friends that were miles away from her. They were laughing about something Xander had said. Tara and Willow were sharing a plate of chicken wings that Anya kept trying to eat off of. Riley was there, too; the only one not laughing. Not having a good time. As though he wanted to be elsewhere.
She thought she would’ve been angry to see her friends so carefree while she was in pain, but she wasn’t. Rather, it was nice knowing that they weren’t burdened by what had happened to her. Perhaps Giles had told them about his meeting with Spike. Perhaps they had understood. It wasn’t a matter of them having fun without her; they were having fun. It didn’t mean she was forgotten.
The demon inside was screaming. She wanted blood. And she wanted a lot of it.
She wanted it warm. And she wanted it now.
A trembling gasp escaped her throat and she willed her eyes closed, hands enclosing around the railing that guarded the upper gallery. It had been a mistake coming here, but she needed to know. She’d needed to feel it for herself. And now she was here, she was feeling it, and she was alone. She hadn’t even told Spike she was leaving; she was alone.
This was something she needed to do herself. But she’d gone too soon.
Then his scent washed over her, and the angered, hungry demon cooed to a soothing obedience. A sigh of relief rolled off her shoulders, and she allowed her body to relax.
Oh thank God.
“I wouldn’t’ve argued ‘f you’d said you needed to do this by yourself, sweets,” Spike mused thoughtfully, wrapping his arms around her middle. Her back was suddenly against the comforting fortitude of his chest. “I would’ve worried until I heard from you, or more likely, followed you from a distance, but I wouldn’t’ve argued.”
“I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I can tell,” he replied, his mouth finding her throat. Her legs about buckled at the softness of his kisses. There was no way she had lived without this voluntarily; those first few years of her life had to have been under a glamour that kept her from him. The spell Willow had placed them under a year before had been a hint from the PTB that this was the way things needed to be between them. Spike with his arms around her, his mouth worshipping her throat, his erection pressing into the curve of her ass. “Know how?”
“H-how what?”
He chuckled against her. “How I can tell you’re glad that I’m here.”
“How?”
“You haven’t thrown me over the balcony yet.”
“Those days are so over.”
“Hmmm, almost disappointin’. You’re so hot when you’re feisty.” His arms tightened around her, and she moaned slightly in complaint when his kisses ceased. “You know,” he said, hooking his chin over her shoulder, “you can go down there an’ see them, if you want.”
“I don’t.”
“Really?”
There was a pause. “Well…no, I don’t. I came here to see if I could…come here, and I can’t.” She sighed. “I’ve been wishing you were with me since the minute I stepped out of the crypt.”
“’m here now.”
“How’d you know where to find me?”
Spike grinned against her. “Same way you knew I was here before I said anythin’. An’ I felt it the minute you shimmied away from me this evenin’.”
“I didn’t shimmy away. There was no shimmying.”
He laughed shortly. “Pity.”
“Spike—”
“You sure you don’ wanna say anythin’ to your mates?”
“I’m sure.” Buffy released a sigh. “I’m not ready yet. I don’t want to see them when I’m not ready.” She shook her head, trembling. “I want to feed. The second I came in here, I wanted to bite everyone around me.”
“I know, sweetheart.”
“That and I don’t want them to…I’m afraid they’d come after you. If what you told me about your talk with Giles…they’d come after you.” She shuddered. “And I’m afraid of what I’d do to them if they came after you.”
Spike froze. “You’d…they’re your friends, sweetheart—”
“Yeah, and I went to you. If they’re really my friends, they’ll understand that. But they won’t. Will, Tara, and Anya…yeah. Xander and Riley?” She shook her head again. “There’s no way they’d understand.”
Then, for no reason whatsoever—other than it was infuriating to have him with this invisible barrier between them—Buffy twisted in his arms, linked her hands behind his neck, and crushed her mouth to his. Spike was motionless for half a second out of surprise, then he rumbled a growl into her and pulled her tightly against him. It was liberating, kissing him here in front of everyone. Feeling his lips moving against her, his tongue invading her mouth, growling into her. If her friends glanced up, they would be in plain view, but Buffy didn’t care. She wanted Spike. She was tired of denying herself the one person guaranteed to give her peace. She wanted Spike, and for the way he was grinding his erection into her, his hand cupping her ass and pulling her against him, he wanted her, too. She was wet and he knew it. There was a familiar burn searing her insides, warming her where she was cold. Spike was kissing her and that was everything.
“Mmmm,” he mewled, pulling away from her lips as his kisses detonated into an exploration of every inch of her that he could reach without breaking any standing decency laws. “God, Buffy…”
Her mouth found the soft skin at his throat and began nibbling slightly.
“Christ!” he gasped. Then froze. “Slayer…” he growled warningly. “You do what you’re aimin’ to do, an’ your friends are gonna know we’re here right quick.”
His voice broke through the haze clouding her lust-filled mind. “What?”
“You’re hungry,” he said, edging her mouth away from his throat. “An’ you haven’t fed. An’ you’re about three seconds from sinkin’ your fangs into my throat. Somethin’ I’m not above explorin’ when we’re home…but it’s too bloody dangerous here.” His eyes dropped to her lips, and he kissed her again. “Havin’ said that, wanna go home?”
Buffy smiled shyly and glanced down. “Home?”
“Well, my home.”
“I kinda think of it as home, too.”
A look of pure adoration flooded into his gaze, and he cupped her cheeks reverently, brushing his lips against hers. “’S yours, sweetling,” he promised. “As bloody long as you want it to be. As long as you wanna be with me, you have a place. ‘S jus’ a hole in the ground, so—”
“It’s more than a hole in the ground, Spike. It’s…” Buffy tore her eyes away from his when the intensity with which he regarded her became too strong. “It’s…I forget it’s a crypt most of the time. You know how you walk into a place, and it’s all new…and you don’t know where anything is, and it’s new and strange? Does that make sense?”
“More so than you’d think.”
“Well…you know then how after time passes, the place that you thought of in one way becomes another? You know the place so it looks different?”
He nodded.
“The crypt’s like that. I’ve been there so much that it’s like…I don’t remember thinking of it as the other thing. It’s like home.”
“What about your real home, luv? The one with your mum?”
She glanced up. “It seems so far away. I know it’s there, and you’re right…she will love me no matter what. I just…the girl that lived there isn’t around anymore. I’ve changed…and not just in body temperature. I can’t live in the house. I can’t go to school. I can’t…well, I can’t really do anything. Except patrol.”
“You wanna patrol?”
“Violence is one of the three things, right?”
“Yeh. One of the three.” His eyes flashed. “We better go before your friends see one of the other two.”
Buffy grinned cheekily. “Yeah? Which one?”
A devilish smirk crossed his face. “Well now,” he said. “That’d be tellin’.” His gaze wandered over the railing. “Better go, yeh? Your pals are about to embarrass themselves on the dance floor. Wouldn’t want them seein’ anything you don’ want them to see.”
“Like what?”
Passion stormed his eyes, and he placed her hand over his erection. “Use your imagination.”
Buffy flushed but flicked her brows challengingly, squeezing his denim-clad cock before releasing him with an affectionate pat. His gaze widened in surprise before dissolving into desire, a long whimper tumbling through his lips. “I can imagine a few things,” she replied softly.
“Bleedin’ fuck,” Spike gasped, shaking his head and enclosing a hand around her wrist. “Takin’ you outta here now.”
They left through the back entrance. Away from her friends. Away from the people. Away from warm blood. Away from walking temptation.
The vampire at her side took her hand as they walked, as though claiming her as his for anyone who happened across them.
“Thank you,” she whispered after a few minutes of silence.
He glanced to her quizzically. “For what, pet?”
“For coming after me. I…I was losing it before you showed up.”
Spike smiled softly, grazing his thumb over knuckles with tender adulation. “’m not so easy to get rid of,” he replied. “’Specially when it comes to those I care about.”
Buffy wet her lips. “You care about me?”
“Pet, ‘f that’s not painstakingly obvious by now, we gotta work on our communication skills.”
“No…I know. It’s just…it’s a different thing to hear it.”
He nodded. “I know.”
A beat. She drew in a deep breath.
“I care about you, too.”
Spike’s eyes twinkled as he turned to her, brushing a kiss against her temple. “I know, kitten,” he murmured lovingly. “I know.”
*~*~*
She was so close to him, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her.
For the days he’d spent curled in her scent, he expected one night to awake and find her gone. A figment of his imagination. The calling of a distant dream, alerting him to what he would never have. Now they were lying side by side on top of the blankets, and all he could do was stare at her.
It was a terrible sensation, dueling with his guilt at having failed her. At having her cursed with his existence when she was made for the sun. But he would be lying to himself if he tried to believe these past few days hadn’t been the best of his life. If her tragic twist of fate hadn’t been his saving grace. He loved her so much, and what had happened to her had consequentially brought her to him. Given him a chance of what he would never have obtained with the Buffy she had left behind. The Buffy that Dracula had killed. The wiser woman in his arms represented everything he had begrudgingly admired in her in their years as adversaries, but aged with that cynicism, that knowledge, which only true death could provide.
This thing that was happening between them was more than he’d ever hoped to touch. And every second with her burned him so good; he couldn’t help but come back for more. Like he was spiraling out of control and chaos had never tasted sweeter. He’d known this sort of bedlam before. Loving Drusilla had eaten away at his insides; consumed him wholly until he was only a shady version himself. Buffy had given him back everything that he once thought lost. And amazingly, she’d done so without being any the wiser.
His previous personal commandment to let her go when she no longer needed him had all but vanished. The thought of letting her go made him ache.
But if she wanted to go, he would not stop her. He loved her too much to deny her happiness, in whatever form she found it in.
Spike released a trembling breath, a hand sliding up her arm, brushing her hair out of her face. His lips grazed her bare shoulder. She was in the habit of dressing for bed in the negligee that Dracula had given her; something he found both irritating and strangely uplifting. In his trip to her house, he’d been sure to pack her several pairs of pajamas. Pajamas that sadly concealed more than they showed off. Buffy had opted to show off every night she spent with him.
He simply was too cautious to say it was for his sake rather than hers. Perhaps the negligee provided a subconscious link with her sire, and helped her deal with his death even more.
The thought of her trying to make peace with another man had him seething with jealousy, but he was too old to question the link between sires and their childer. If she needed peace, he would conquer nations to give it to her. If sleeping in her sire’s gift provided what he could not, that would be his problem. He would never deny her anything.
“Mmmm…” Buffy moaned, shifting in her sleep. And he was suddenly awash in the rich aroma of her arousal. “Spiiiiike.”
His eyes widened. “Sweetheart?”
She whimpered again, her eyes welded shut. “Gawwwd, Spike.”
Oh fuck.
She was dreaming of him. She was dreaming of him. Like that. And he was drowning in her heavenly scent. His cock was painfully hard, rubbing subconsciously against the curve of her ass. God, he needed her. He needed her so much.
“Buffy…bleedin’ hell, you’re killing me.”
She mewled but did not awaken. Instead, her hand snaked down her own body, hiking up the hem of her negligee. “Spike. Need…uhhh…”
He willed his eyes closed. Gotta…wake her…
Buffy whimpered again and twisted in his arms. Her mouth was suddenly achingly close to his. He knew how sweet that mouth tasted. Knew the flavor of her kisses. He knew how wet she became when she was aroused. Knew from that first morning how delicious she was.
Goddamn…
He slithered a hand between them and freed his cock from his jeans. “Jesus…” he gasped, stroking his shaft in time with her whimpers. Somewhere in the back of his head, he knew that wanking off to her wet dream was wrong. “I can’t take much more of this,” he told her, even if she couldn’t hear him. “Jus’ so you know. I want you so much.”
“Spike…”
He didn’t really know how it happened. The next minute her bumpies had shifted forward, the gorgeous visage of her demon, and her fangs slid into his throat.
Spike roared and came. Like a schoolboy on his first date, only worse. Now her eyes were open. Now she was awake. And he was holding his cock, his hand full of his spendings. He didn’t know whether to be sorry or humiliated, or to call her on this mating ritual she’d been teasing him with, whether intentional or not. He wanted her, and he knew she wanted him.
One look at her face, though, halted anything he was about to say. Her eyes were awash in mortification, trained on the marks in his throat. “Oh God,” she cried. “Oh my God. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…I—”
Spike’s eyes went wide.
“Not sorry,” he replied hoarsely, and seized her lips before she could say another word. “You’re amazin’. Never felt anythin’ like that.”
“Felt?”
“Mmmm…” He was hard again, his erection wandering disobediently between her legs. “You drive me outta my mind.”
“Spike…”
His fingers skimmed her inner thigh. “Want you so much,” he rasped. “You smell so sweet.”
“I…Spike…I…”
“Wanna bury myself inside you. Make love with you till nightfall.” He nuzzled her throat. “Taste every inch of you. Christ, Buffy…”
“I…”
She wanted it, too. He could see it. Her eyes shone with uncertainty, but she wanted him in every way he wanted her. The hesitation, though, lent him pause. With as much as he craved to lose himself inside her, he wanted absolutely no doubt between them. Wanted nothing but that promise of the future they could have together. Not the reservations of a world that gave its blessings as readily as it took.
“I won’ do anythin’ you don’t want me to do,” he promised.
“Spike…” Her eyes filled with tears that broke his heart. “I do. I want you so much. I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you. I’m just…I don’t know why I’m…God, I’m just…”
He shook his head and brushed his lips against her cheek. “Don’t cry, sweetness,” he murmured. “When it happens, I don’ want you doubtin’ anything. Least of all me.” His gaze dropped to her mouth and he kissed her again. “But God, lemme taste you. Touch you. God, anythin’. Please. Your scent is drivin’ me outta my bloody head.”
“T-t-taste?”
He frowned and studied her a moment, then his gaze went wide. “Oh, you’re bloody kiddin’ me.”
“I don’t—”
“Don’ worry.” Spike sat up and pushed her gently back to the mattress, kicking his jeans off his legs. Her eyes bulged at the sight of him fully nude, and he couldn’t help the dose of male pride that spread through his body at her silent appraisal. “Gonna take care of you.”
Buffy was studying him intently, burdened with both intrigue and desire, and the combination was heavenly.
He flashed a reassuring smile and fisted the material of her negligee. “You like this?” he asked.
“Not really.”
“Why wear it?”
“It’s sexy. I…” He swore her pale cheeks flushed bright, but that could be easily accredited to his overactive imagination. “I don’t have…you didn’t…I want to be sexy for you. It’s the only thing I had…you didn’t bring…my other stuff.”
Ardor stormed his eyes. “Oh Buffy.”
A quick tear and her sire’s gift was no more. And his eyes drank her in. Buffy lying before him. Her gorgeous body bare to him. There was not an inch of her that he did not adore. That he would fail to taste. Everything. She was his. If not before, certainly now. He was never letting her go after this. Not after tonight.
“Buffy.” Her name came out a choked sob. “God, you’re so gorgeous.”
She arched beneath his perusal. “Spike, please.”
He nodded, grateful for the invitation. Had he forced himself to keep his hands off her another second, he was sure he would know death all over again. He palmed a breast reverently as his mouth dipped to sample the other. He laved a wet path around her nipple before drawing her bud into his mouth. “Mmm,” he hummed against her skin. “So sweet.”
“Guhh…”
His other hand spread her thighs. “Gonna taste you now,” he told her. “God, I need to taste you so bloody badly.” Before she could open her mouth, he slid unceremoniously down her body and nuzzled his face into her sex.
Buffy arched off the bed. “Spike!”
“Screamin’ my name already,” he mused, nibbling on her folds. She was already panting. Her eyes wide with awe. It amazed him that for all the tossers she’d been with, not one of them had done this for her. Not even his own wanker of a grandsire, who’d not only had her love, but had robbed her of her virginity. Torn into her body without…his eyes clouded with rage. None in her past had been worthy of this. Lying between her thighs, gazing up her body, feasting on her pussy. No. If they didn’t know how to properly worship a goddess, they weren’t fit to share a room, much less her bed.
“Oh God,” she gasped. “Oh my God.”
He sank two fingers within her. “You’re so wet,” he moaned. “So bloody tight.”
“Uhhh…”
“Feel good?” he asked tentatively, pulling his digits out and driving them back in. Her response drowned out in a long, encouraging mewl. His tongue lapped at her eagerly, watching her face through hooded eyes. Watching as she writhed at his touch. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. Buffy whimpering for his touch. Buffy shaking in hard sobs of pleasure. Her eyes shining with light and desire. For him. All for him.
Fuck, he would never tire of this.
“Spike…oh god…please.”
“I know what you need, sweetling,” he murmured. He smiled into her and drew her clit into his mouth. His tongue swirled around the needy bundle as his fingers thrust deeper into her. He was swimming in her. Losing himself a thousand times over. Everything on overload. Her scent. Her responses. That lost look in her eyes. He couldn’t get enough of her. If leaving this glorious creature behind was in his making, he wanted no part of it. She had his blood in her body now. He had her taste rolled on his tongue. His fingers were inside her, stroking her to perfection. His cock drove madly against the mattress, demanding attention that he refused to turn to himself. She was crying out for him, and the air had never known a sweeter sound. His Buffy on his bed. His Buffy that slept in his arms. She thrust her hips against his face, incoherent babbles spilling through her perfect lips.
“You taste like wine,” he told her, withdrawing his fingers from her passage.
“Spike!”
“Gonna take care of you, baby,” he promised. “Gonna drink you till you can’t come anymore.”
His hand settled over her pubic bone, fingers dipping into her again. Finding her abandoned clit and massaging her in speedy, tortuous circles as his tongue plunged into her pussy.
“Oh God!” she screamed, arching off the bed again. Her fingers tunneled through his hair and held him to her. Her legs settled over his shoulder and drew him into her, sobbing her pleasure in the form of his name again and again. And he lapped at everything she gave him. Explored the extent of her body’s secrets, rejoicing in the honey that rewarded his tongue. With every second, he lost himself a bit more. He would gladly wait out the trials of eternity here if only to hear his name screamed in her voice. Watch as the pleasure he gave her engulfed her face. Taste her nectar as she came. She was purity lost in darkness, and she gave him all her light.
When she came, it was a bloody revelation. He was overwhelmed with her taste, lost in the sobbing contours of her body. Holding her as she trembled and cried his name, his mouth not leaving her until the tremors subsided. Until she fell back against the mattress, panting deep breaths that no longer hurt. Her gaze was clouded with tears again, but there was such joy embedded in her eyes that he did not question her. Merely licked her flavor off his lips, suckled his Buffy-drenched fingers into his mouth, and rested with her as she came down. His arms curled around her and rested his cheek against her stomach, a lazy hand toying with her breast. Waiting for his goddess to return to him.
Sharing this with her was unlike anything else in his existence. God, if he hadn’t known before a thousand times over, he bloody well knew now.
Fuck, I love her so much.
“Spike…”
He met her eyes slowly and melted at what he saw. The peace in her eyes was contagious, settled there with pure adoration that he had never before been given. He felt loved. Warm. There in her arms, her scent flooding him wholly. Her smile. Her peace. Her love.
The words weren’t there, but he felt it.
“You’re so…” He stopped shortly, and then shook his head. There was nothing he could say. Nothing that would summarize the wealth of what he felt.
Instead, he prowled up her body and kissed her. Poured everything he was into the union of their lips. Let her taste herself, spiced with the taste of him. Her arms came around him. Body to body. Holding each other in the aftermath. Holding each other in the embrace of day, with the promise of something new.
He had helped her reach penance.
Now they would try for fire.
To be continued in Chapter Twelve: Take Me To A Place So Holy…
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