Rating: I'm going to go with NC-17. 
Warnings: Violence, strong launguage, character death.  Multiple character vampings. Bloodplay, sexual content with elements of BDSM (if you're not into it, you have been warned!!)

A/N:  This story is going to be told in parts spread out over the space of two centuries.  Lemme know what you guys think.

Disclaimer: Do we need to be reminded that it all belongs to someone who isn't me?  Didn't think so.




Moving Backwards

beta'd by Oracleholly



Prologue: Rome, 2008

"Are you sure you wanna do this?"

That question, asked for what seemed like the millionth time in the last two months, was answered with a glare.  The witch sighed in weary resignation and gave a last critical perusal of the dainty blonde before her.  They'd spent a great deal of time researching and planning every last detail from period clothing and accesories to coins and ancient street maps. Even the smallest details had failed to slip by unnoticed by the determined females.

Satisfied that all was in readiness, the witch stepped back and met her best friend's eyes. "Last chance," she couldn't help but point out. "You don't have to do this."

Anger flashed gold in normally jade green eyes as the master vampiress attempted to reign in her demon.  It took her several moments before she was able to speak, even then through tightly clenched teeth.  "My mate is dead.  My sister is dead.  Everyone I know has their own lives...This is my choice."

The witch nodded, knowing that if she refused, Lizette would just search the world over until she found another to perform this spell. This was it.  Her choice.  Her gift to herself after all the years she'd given the world.
The two women shared a look of love and acceptance.  A whispered promise was made that they would one day meet again.

No more tears.
No more words.
No more time.
Goodbye, for now, my friend.

They each took their place for the spell to begin.  Lizette stood in the center of a pentagram, large crystals at each of the five points.  White candles made from beeswax flickered silently at two foot intervals surrounding the protective circle.  The witch's eyes bled to onyx pools.  Her voice became a deep, flowing song of latin words and powerful magicks.

An invisible wind filled the cavern.  Purple light rose from the crystals, which was made stronger by the addition of the blood filling the clay pot at the vampire's feet.

The portal opened and the Lizette stepped through as the world she was leaving turned dark.

"Goodbye, my friend," Willow Rosenberg whispered into the darkness of the empty cavern with tears filling her eyes. "May the Goddess guide and protect you."





One

Five minutes in nineteenth century London made Lizette overwhelmingly grateful that she no longer required oxygen.  The stench was horrid and her nose wrinkled in absolute disgust as she continued to give herself time to gain her bearings. A brief glance to the position of the moon in the nighttime sky told her she still had a few hours yet in which to seek shelter from the sun's killing rays.

Lizette shuddered in revulsion as the smell of human waste, from the alleys where windows had been opened and chamber pots emptied, launched an assault on her delicate nasal passages.  For a moment, her stomach rolled and churned, threatening a revolt.  Mixed with the scents of urine and feces, she smelled the combination of sex, booze, blood and death.  Disease and age emanated from within cramped, dilapidated hovels housing scores of the poor and unwashed.

Death came quickly to the hulking, lumbering drunk, who had been stupid enough to attack the vampiress as though she were a common bangtail luring a customer down a darkened alley for a quick poke in hopes of a few coins to feed her a hot meal or glass of ale at the nearby pub.  The blood of her would-be rapist was bitter from laudenum, and she detected the faint taste of opium still in his system.  The green fairy may have granted the mongrel a short reprieve from reality, but it was Lizette's fangs and bloodlust which had allowed him a true release in death.

Hunger sated, she moved down the alley and through the busy streets of London toward Hyde Park.  She just had to see him.  Only for a moment.  To ensure herself that she had arrived in time.  Her entire plan hung in the balance. 

Lizette had known from the beginning that this was a one way trip.  Willow could only send her backwards in time.  She knew that, should the spell have gone awry, she would have no way to communicate with the redhead she'd left behind 128 years in the future. Fortunately, the spell had done its job and transported her to the year 1880.  Yet, actual dates became obscure over time.  After a hundred-plus years, some facts and details became lost within the memory.

She moved, silent as the night itself, to a cheerfully lit window that afforded her a view into a small library.

Tears of relief, joy and longing sprang to her eyes when she saw him seated on a sofa which, mercifully faced the window.  She'd always imagined him just as he was. Dark brown curls falling adorably over his forehead, wire-rimmed spectacles sliding partially down his slender nose as his face tilted towards the book laying open on his lap.  Soft lips she could almost taste against her own moved as he read quietly.

She'd made it!  He was alive! Still human- a condition that would be cured soon enough.  Both the demon and the woman in her demanded that Lizette lure him out into the night and take care of that little detail this very moment.
But, she couldn't.  She'd made a vow that things would be done differently this time around.  She just had to be patient.

As for the demon population currently residing in London, she had zero qualms in rushing to start that part of her plan.  One last look at the beautiful man who would become her mate, a fierce longing for the human quietly reading in the earliest hours of the morning and she turned back to the night.

****************

A week after her arrival, Lizette had used her research knowledge to her best advantage.  Even as the old master's ashes were settling upon the cold marble floor, she was coldly looking around at a room full of vampire minions which were now hers to do with as she saw fit.  Some showed open hatred and hostility towards her while most stood in frightened awe and respect at how quickly and brutally the battle had occurred.

In no time, Lizette had moved in and become the new Master of London.  Under her reign, death rates in the human populace -those death caused by 'neck trauma', at least- decreased.  Any Big Bads who came looking to take her down were taken out in short order.  Those minions she suspected of staging a mutiny were disposed of before they were able to plant the seeds of discord among their brethren.

*****************

Two months passed easily with nightly visits to ensure herself that no harm had befallen her future mate or his ailing mother.  The older woman whose gentleness was inherited by the son, likely would not last much longer before she was taken by tuberculosis. Lizette felt her own heart break a little more everytime she saw the grim resignation in the son's eyes while his beloved mother expelled blood as she coughed uncontrollably into her pristine white, hand-stitched and monogrammed handkerchief.

Then, IT happened.

Tulley, her right hand vamp came to her one evening just as she'd risen from her day sleep.  She'd liked Tulley from the moment she'd laid eyes on him.  He'd been a constable of thirty, knifed in the back while protecting a young woman during a tavern brawl.  She'd found him dying in the alley and had changed him herself, going that extra distance and making him her Childe instead of a minion.

Tonight Tulley stood just inside the closed door of his Sire's suite, looking anxious and scared.  The big man held his hat in his hand, fingers twisting the wool fretfully while he cast his yellow eyes to the floor.  Though her demon demanded that she go to him and do her duty as Sire, she held back.  Lizette would share her body with no one other than her mate unless he were at her side.  Allowing a Childe to feed from her was still too intimate an act, and too close to sexual, for her to be entirely comfortable with anyone other that the powerful master to whom she mated herself.

Instead, she growled at her Childe, being sure to use her Sire's voice as she demanded he put his demon away.

"They have come, Mistress!" Tulley blurted in a near panic.  "The Aurelians that you've warned us would be arriving!  Even as we speak, the dark haired male and his females make their way through our streets!"

Lizette angrily clenched her jaw, desperately tamping down the fear that she would be too late and all her careful planning would be for naught. "Go! I want them followed and every move they make is to be reported back to me immediately." she ordered as she rang the bell for her maid. "I will look after my charges myself."

"Aye, Mistress," Tulley nodded vigorously, relieved that he would be free of having to look after the humans in which his Sire had taken such an eager interest.  Without another word, the former lawman left his Mistress to gather the few trusted minions of his Sire's household.

__________________________________________



Two

Heartbroken and miserable, William Worthington sank onto a wooden crate in the darkened alley.  The tears of rejection and humiliation rolled freely down his face to drip onto the smudged parchment balled into his fist.  How could he have been such a blinded fool to ever believe himself worthy of such an angel as Cecily Abrams?  He was nothing! A mere peasant in the presence of a queen!

The tears came faster as he recalled those damning words spilling from her lips and crushing his very soul.

"But, that's just it, William.  I do see you.  You are nothing to me.  You are beneath me."

He was beneath her!  Not rich enough, nor handsome enough, nor brave enough, nor witty and clever enough for such effulgence!

So consumed was he by his own pain and misery, that he failed to notice the presence which had joined him until her honeyed voice drifted into his abused ears. "No more tears,my love."

Startled, William shot to his feet and found himself looking into a pair of haunted green eyes in the face of a golden-haired beauty. That she saw him at such a moment of weakness had him flushing in embarrassment. "I..I wish to be alone, madam," he stammered in an humiliatingly tearful voice.  To his horror, the lady drifted closer despite his request.

"Haven't you had enough of being alone amongst a sea of fools who can not see your beauty and your heart?  You are better than all of them, William.  It is them who are beneath you."

Frightened by her words and the way she looked at him as though she could see down to his very soul, William stumbled backwards until he found himself trapped against the rain dampened brick wall. "Who are you?" he whispered.

She smiled softly and ran the back of her gloved hand against his cheek.  "Someone who wants only to give you the world on a silver platter.  Someone who wants to show the world its most passionate son. And all you have to do is say yes."

William felt the gentle stroking of her tiny hand and saw only love reflected in her emerald gaze.  Mesmerized by her words, he forced his suddenly dry mouth and too fast breathing to form words. "Wh-who are you?" he asked again.

The beautiful woman came closer still, pressing her body against him and robbing him of all coherent thought as her hand came to rest over his heart. "The one who sees your worth. The one who sees you, William.  I can show you a world you could never imagine.  A world of such magick and passion that you will never again feel lost and alone."

"Love?" he breathed, unknowing what made him so bold.  Gods, she smelled good.  Like vanilla and something wild.  Her eyes glowed with some emotion for which he had no name.  Her free hand moved up to trace her fingertips over his face.

"Always.  Forever.  Love for all eternity," she whispered and pressed cool lips to his in the barest brush of a kiss that nearly had him sobbing for its beauty. She pulled away slightly and he felt the loss of her touch as an acute ache in his chest. "Just tell me you want it," another kiss, firmer than the last. "Do you want it?"

William blinked slowly, attempting to reign in his scattered thoughts and emotions.  His whole being trembled with a need to feel her against him.  His arms ached to be filled with her.  Slowly, he nodded.

"God, yes."

*******************


She'd taken extreme care in washing his body after returning to the lair.  The minions, bless their evil little hearts, had offered to prepare the body for her so that their beloved Mistress' hands would not become sullied by the last traces of humanity to leave the new fledgling.  But she'd wanted to do this herself.  Needed to do it herself. 

Memories from a lifetime ago echoed through her mind as she meticulously cleansed his body. Liz allowed her mind to wander off to that happier time;  those memories distracting her from the well of grief that  threatened to break her upon seeing the love of her life and unlife as nothing but a cold, empty shell waiting to be filled.



"If you had to do it all over again?  I mean, really had to do it all over again?"

A smile, full of love and a hint of his usual wickedness played across his beautiful face. "I'd gladly welcome Dru's kiss.  No matter what I've done.  No matter the pain, I'd still...'cause it brought me to you, love."

A giggle as his fingers danced across her naked thigh and set a lazy northbound course. Her giggle became a moan and her back arched as his delightfully talented fingers found their way into her moistened folds. His sweet smile became a grin full of naughty promise. Her breaths turned to panting as he stroked lazy patterns across her needy flesh, his eyes darkening to deep indigo and his nostrils flaring as her arousal perfumed the air.  "Of course, I'd have spent a helluva lot less time tryin' to kill you and alot more time trying to part these dimpled knees."  Quickly moving over her until his hips were cradled between her luscious thighs, he sank into her greedy, grasping channel, groaning as her walls tightened to hold him within her welcoming body.  His mouth lowered onto hers, capturing her velvety lips and thrusting his tongue into the moist cavern to do battle with hers.  She moaned as his hips twisted and she felt him brush against the place that drove her mindless with need.  She bucked wildly beneath him, her nails digging into the flesh of his back until he reached behind himself to grasp her hands and push them above her head.

Needing something to anchor herself to as the storm of sensations crashed through her, Lizzie curved her hands around the curling vines of wrought iron that made up the headboard of their bed. His lips left hers to seek out that place beside her ear and gave it a lick.

His voice, darkly seductive, rumbled from his chest, "Hold on, kitten." He rasped as his hands slid down her sides to her hips, "Ride's about to get rough."

Her breath came out in a long, lusty moan when he gripped the back of a knee in each hand and pushed them up to her chest.  The new angle sent him deeper into her and she could not help but cried out at the sharp thrusts. 

Certain that she would stay as he put her, Spike's hands took firm hold of her hips, holding her tightly against him as he began pounding into her at a brutal pace.  In this position, she could do little more than writhe at the intensity of pleasure each time he buried himself fully.  She babbled incomprehensibly, every meeting of their pelvises sending molten fire throbbing through her core.  The base of his shaft ground against her aching clit upon each downward stroke.  His eyes nearly crossed every time those exquisite muscles of hers tightened around him, the silken walls doing their best to strangle the unlife out of him.

He knew she was close to the edge when the ridges appeared above her green eyes that had turned amber at the height of passion.  His own demon reacted to the sight, and his fangs dropped while his balls tightened.  He pressed the heel of his hand against her clit, rubbing furiously.

"Come with me, luv," he rumbled and leaned down for a kiss, growling as their fangs cut and their mouths filled with blood. 

It was a brief, bloody kiss before his mouth zeroed in on the raised scars of their mating claim.  With a growl, he plunged deep with both cock and fangs. His mate's keening wails of completion filled the air before she buried her own fangs into his flesh.

"Mine!" he howled in bliss as he tore free from her succulent skin, hips jerking with each spurt of cold, milky seed he shot within her womb.

"Yours," she sighed and cradled him aginst her breasts, her tongue lazily swiping at the fresh punctures she'd caused with her fangs.  The aftershocks pulsed through her satisfied body in time with her mate's tongue as he lapped at his own bite marks to close the tiny wounds.


She finished washing him and placed him between the cool sheets of her bed where he'd awaken to finery glinting and glowing in the flickering, dancing light of the candles all about the room.  Her stomach growled loudly.  She needed to feed before sunrise.  She wasn't simply creating a Childe to be her mate, but a creature with the strength and power to be a Master Vampire.

Lizette needed healthy blood and lots of it.  No wandering drunks or whores.  None of the diseased humans down Whitechapel.  No barely conscious patron stumbling from the opium dens. No, no, no.  None of those would do. 

Only the best for her love.  A cold and ruthless smile spread across her pixie's face as she leaned over and pressed a kiss to William's cold, lifeless lips. It was time she went and saw what London Society had to offer.

Quickly, Lizette summoned her personal maid.  Veronique, a two hundred year old vampiress whom had been eager for Lizette's attentions after the constant beatings and humiliations she'd suffered at the hands of her old master.  The French vampiress who would remain fourteen until she was dusted had been a pet of the old master's court, passed off to any and all, tortured on a whim.  The day she'd become Lizette's, the girl had thrown herself at her new Mistress' feet and begged in a sobbing, wailing combination of French and English.  Lizette hadn't understood a word of the girl's frantic pleas, but later she heard the story from another minion.

It had been the first time Liz had ever regretted not torturing someone slowly over a long, long period of time before dusting them.

The French vampiress in question arrived in moments and hurriedly dressed her Mistress in a beautiful gown of emerald silk and black lace, sweeping her golden mane up into elegant ringlets.  Lastly, Veronique applied just enough make-up to cover the unnatural paleness of her Mistress' face. The blonde was a stunningly beautiful woman without any cosmetics and she saw no reason to cover up those breathtaking features.



****************************
Invitation in hand, Lizette made her way to the home of one Miss Cecily Abrams with only one goal in mind. Blood.  Lots of hot, sticky blood fresh from the tap to fill her right up and take home to her newest creation. He had to be strong, afterall.  It was all about the blood.

Oh, well, except for the vengance, of course.  Couldn't forget or forgive what the nasty girl and her nasty friends had done to her cherished love.  Those pathetic, society blue bloods had hurt her darling boy.  Now they'd all pay for their sleights.  Especially that bitch, Cecily.  Lizette hummed a little tune as she readied herself for a delightful visit amongst the Ton.  Perhaps she'd drag the insipid daddy's girl home.  William would be rather hungry once he awakened.

Funnily enough, even though Lizette actually did have a soul, she wasn't bothered in the slightest over the thought of draining a houseful of humans.  Research had told her they'd all be dead in a matter of two weeks anyway.  These humans had hurt her William in the most fundemental ways.  They'd laughed at his beautiful heart and daring soul.  Taunted him for daring to be different.  Tormented him him for wanting to love some stupid girl who was not fit to wipe his boots.



Lizette returned home less than two hours after her departure, gorged on human blood; heart, soul and demon all content with the slaughter of five humans and eager to see her William.  She didn't know how long it would it take, as her own powerful blood could be so unpredictable.  Her own baby sister had risen in an hour.  Lizette, herself, though, had taken nearly a full day.

William was just as she'd left him.  Veronique helped her get cleaned up and dressed for bed.  Then she was alone with him to await his rising.  He lay silent, a corpse.  Time ticked by in the quiet.  Candlelight surrounded and enveloped the room with a warm, golden glow.  Lizette lost herself to memories.



She hadn't always been Lizette.  She'd picked that name on a whim for this adventure.  Before Lizette, she'd been Lizbeth- a simple alteration from the name her mother had given her.  Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth had been the name she'd begun to go by after she'd been turned from Buffy Summers, the vampire Slayer to just Buffy the Vampire.  Mate of William the Bloody, a.k.a. Spike.  Sister to Dawn Summers.

Pain filled her as she thought about Dawnie lying broken and bleeding after the car accident.  A drunk driver had come out of nowhere while she'd been laughing and slapping Buffy's hand away from the radio while Spike slept in the backseat.

When they'd landed in the ditch, twisted metal folded upon itself, shattered glass slicing their flesh, and the acrid stench of burning materials filling their noses, Dawnie was no longer in the driver's seat.  Buffy and Spike had barely escaped the wreck before the explosion and found the twenty year old on the verge of death.  Neither vampire spoke.  They didn't argue or discuss.  Spike had cradled the broken girl to his chest and sipped away her remaining human life while Buffy slashed her wrist and offered her eternity in exchange.

After all, Buffy had promised to show Dawnie the world.  And she never went back on a promise.

Eternity had last two years before Dawn had been captured, tortured and murdered by one of the last remaining factions of a goverment funded monster squad.  Spike had gone after her and ended up dead, as well.  Devastated, Buffy had turned to the most powerful witch she'd ever met.  After much persuasion, Willow had reluctantly agreed to her plan and set out researching the required spell.

And the rest was a cliche.
_____________________________________________

Three

The sun was moments from cresting the horizon when it happened.  Liz slid closer to the bed, every cell in her body singing with greedy excitement and anticipation.  Every sense she had went on full alert, her demon anxiously pacing the close confines of its flesh and bone prison.  Its anxiousness gave her an idle thought to those old black and white movies where expectant fathers were forced to remain in the waiting room while their wives gave birth.

A painful stab of awareness deep inside her brought a gasp to Lizette's lips and her head fell back on a moan.  He was close now, her Childe tugging lightly on his end of that invisible thread connecting them.  His demon was instinctively calling out for its Sire.  She reached down that metaphysical link and grabbed the newborn, wrapped herself around it and pulled it forth into the world.

Shedding her clothes, Lizette crawled onto the bed, lying beside him and ensuring that her face would be the first thing his new vampiric eyes saw.  A final tug on his senses and his back arched in a sudden violent motion.  Sparkling blue eyes flung open and a harsh gasp exploded from him as his body attemtpted to drag air into lungs that no longer needed oxygen to survive.



William did not know what had awakened him first.  Was it the horrible, gnawing ache in his belly which twisted his insides together before setting them on fire?  Or had it been that scent he had memorized in a filthy alley just moments ago?  Had it been only moments?  Had it been longer?  Days? Weeks?

"There's my guy!"

She was here!  The golden goddess who'd come to him amidst the shattered ruins of his heart and life.  She'd offered love and warmth while others had only ever offered him sneers and scorn.

She smiled broadly, happiness seeping out of her in a warm, golden glow.  He reached a hand for her and she grasped it, placing it against her cheek, nuzzling it for a brief moment before pressing a tender kiss against his palm.  His sunshine.  His salvation.  Her lips were moving and he had to focus on the bits and pieces of words. "...hungry?"

He could only nod mutely and wince in pain at the ache in his belly.  She inched closer and held her slender wrist beneath his lips and nose in an invitation.  He took the proferred flesh, ran his tongue lightly over the vein which lay just beneath the silken skin.  She made some small sound of encouragement and curled herself tighter against his side. 

The question was there in his eyes and she licked her lips, nodding and emitting a soft moan of anticipation. William touched his lips to the spot in a feathery kiss before hesitantly biting down and groaning as the fluid gushed into his greedy mouth.

Lizette moved until she straddled his naked thighs beneath the sheets.  Her body was overcome with so many emotions at once; her need for him and the effects of his fangs in her were making her body grow achingly tight while a rush of fluids seeped out of her and coated her thighs. 

Her demon was screaming for its mate, howling at the torment of being so near and not having him inside her, pounding her with the fierce abandon she craved.  Her heart and soul were reaching out to him, beckoning him to come forth and show her that everything would be alright once more.  Lastly, her brain seemed to be scrabbling for anything resembling control as logic attemtpted to fight against the powerful call of both her demon and her body while it tried to find a path through the chaos.

With the very last ounce of her control, Lizette reached blindly for the glowing ball on the bedside table.  The moment her fingers closed around the warm glass filled with swirling magicks, reason began to reassert itself.  Without heistation, she lifted the globe and threw it against the wall with all her vampiric strength.  The glowing orb exploded in a shower of glass and a shockwave of magicks.

The force of the magickal shockwave threw the vampires apart.  Lizette fell backwards onto the floor where she watched her Childe grow stiff as a board, albeit, a dead sexy vampire-shaped board.  Pulsing green energy enveloped his whole body.  Slowly, unsure of what to do, she rose to her feet and wrapped her tiny hands around the smoothe mahogany bedpost.  Fuck, he's beautiful!

The green mist dissapated as the magicks receded and the vampire fell back against the bed, chest rising and falling unneccasarily.  Sparkling cerulean eyes blinked rapidly as he attempted to gain his bearings.

The moment everything fell into place for him, he bolted upright on the bed.  His eyes welled up with the force of all of his emotions and his arms opened wide.  A grin stretched his beautiful mouth. "Hello, Cutie. Miss me?"

A sound somewhere between a strangled sob and a squeal of delight escaped her throat as she launched herself into his arms and started covering his face in hungry little kisses.  Tears fell freely from both of them when their mouths met and greedily ravaged each's counterpart.  It'd been way too long since they'd been able to touch each other, love each other.  A million lifetimes since they'd had the freedom to take each other with the frenzied passions of the demons inhabiting their bodies.

They took each other up to and over the edge of pleasureable abyss time and time again, pounding, slamming, clawing at one another like the violent creatures they were.  Animalistic screams and growls bounced from wall to wall while skin starved hands, lips and teeth left marks of ownership.  Fangs sliced and slashed as they tore through skin.  Moans and cries and promises and vows spilled from their lips.

Over and over they made love until neither could no longer move and they fell against the heap of pillows and shredded linens which had ended up on the floor.  Spike pulled his mate against him, molding his body against hers as his lips pressed gentle kisses to the brand new mating marks he'd gifted her.

"Sleep, luv,' he purred into her ear. "I got you."  Pulling the blanket up to cover them both, he allowed his deep purring to join hers as they drifted into an exhausted sleep.
___________________________________________



Four

Steam rose from the fragrant water as the vampires relaxed in the bath. "My Lizzie," Spike murmured as he pressed his lips against the back of her neck.  "My Slayer...my Buffy."

Lizette hummed in pleasure and snuggled back furthur against him, tiny powerful hands lacing through his larger ones as they splayed across her belly.

The couple stayed just that way for awhile.  Lizette had already explained the events which had led her, led them to being present in the time he'd originally been sired by the maddened Drusilla. Liz had also imparted with him, the mechanics of the time travel spell as well as the captured essence spell.

To say that Spike was shocked by the lengths his mate had gone to in order to return him to her arms, was a vast understatement.  His woman had actually gotten Red to call his soul from the ether and entrap it within a magickally impenetrable container.  The Woi-Ping had survived the trip to the past with everything that was Spike safely tucked within its glass walls.  Furthur surprising him, she told him that she'd been there for a couple of months; watched over him and his Mum almost every night to ensure herself that he was safe.

Then last night had happened.  The party at the Abrams' London home.  The arrival of Angelus with Darla and Dru in tow.  It had been the knowledge of the Aurelians running loose on the streets which changed her mind about waiting until after William's mother had passed away. Buffy the human had been somewhat capable of dealing with feelings of jealousy.  However,  Lizette the Master Vampiress was ten times more possessive of her mate, and the mere thought of Dru getting to William first had made her demon howl in rage.

Lizette cried when she finished her tale, letting out her grief that she'd been unable to save Dawn from those human monsters that had heartlessly butchered the ensouled fledgling.  Spike's own heart felt as though it were being crushed beneath the guilt of not reaching his Nibblet in time.  She'd been like a baby sister to him before he and Buffy had made the young woman their Childe.  Unable to contain the force of his emotions at all he and his mate had been forced to endure, his eyes flooded with tears to match the crystalline streaks drying on his Lizzie's pale cheeks.

Once they were past their mutual grief, Lizzie had ordered the tub be filled with steaming water and a mixture of exotic oils she'd purchased for just this occasion.  It furthur surprised Spike at the rate and ease with which the former Slayer had adapted to an era with none of the modern conveniences she'd taken for granted in her own time.

If everything she said before had failed to surprise and impress him, her sudden break in silence topped it all.  "Once I got here, I killed the old Master of London and took over his territory," she informed him in a calm, steady voice.  "And I've been hunting in Whitechapel."

Spike clenched his jaw so tightly at that last part, that he wondered if it might crack.  His mate, an ensouled vampire and former Slayer, had been feeding off the humans she'd once been dutybound to protect. "You haven't just been to Whitechapel." 

Lizette stiffened slightly before turning to face him. "You needed strong, healthy, blood and they deserved to die.  Especially that bitch."

Spike gazed at her intently, trying to understand how she could so casually commit cold-blooded murder.  With a frown, she stood and stepped out of the tub without saying another word.  For once, Spike kept his mouth shut and his thoughts to himself.

****************

Spike learned very quickly that his darling Lizzie had changed greatly in the time between his and Dawnie's deaths and her bringing him back.  She'd left behind the world she knew, made the commitment and did the neccesary research, performed the neccesay requirements to bring them back together.

Could he forgive her the killing?  Yes.  Not because he loved her with all that he was, either.  He'd long seen her for what she really was.  She was a warrior and a survivor like him.  She did what she had to do and didn't apologize for getting it done.  She was his blood drenched goddess reveling in her own power.

It had been three days since he'd been turned, or, returned, whatever. Lizzie urged him to repair the largest regret of his entire existance.  "You need to do this, Spike," she'd whispered against his ear as they lay in bed. "You always said that if you could change just one thing..."

A terrible trembling overtook him and he held her tightly, wishing he could just crawl inside of her and hide from the world.  She allowed him to hold onto her for a bit, cooing soft words while she ran her hands over his back and through his unbleached locks.  This wasn't sexual, though they'd made love earlier.  This touching was the way a mother might comfort a small, restless child.

But she was the wrong mother. His mother, the woman who'd carried him within her womb, birthed him and raised him into the gentle poet, was sick and dying.  Dying from such a simple illness that could so easily be cured in the future.  Only, Lady Anne Worthington would not survive that long.  It was very likely that the woman had only a handful of weeks before she drew her last breath.

Liz wanted him to go to his mother. A gift.  A test.  A cruelty.  Go to his mother.  Care for her.  Make her as comfortable as possible as she neared her end.

Allow her to pass from this world in peace and surrounded by the love of her devoted son.  Allow William his chance to say goodbye to the beautiful woman whom had given him life and unconditional love. Something in his previous existance je had not done. 

Tears fell unchecked and he buried his face against Lizzie's naked breasts.  She'd driven her point straight into his overburdened soul.  The truth in her words, spoken in that soft, hauntingly beautiful voice was a flaming cross burning his heart to ash. 

For a fraction of a human heartbeat, he hated her.  In his mind, Spike actually contemplated crushing the slender neck beneath his lips. He wanted to rip out the tongue which had been the source of so much pleasure over the years. Anything to make the pain caused by her words stop tearing at his soul.

As though she'd guessed the sudden violent turn of his thoughts, Liz tensed beneath him.  A moment later, she threw him off of her with enough force that he crashed into the dark, gleaming wood of the dresser.  He bounced slightly against the sturdy piece of furniture and landed on his knees. He arose instantly, gamefaced, warning growls spilling from his throat.

Lizette was crouched on the bed, growls of defiance rumbling past her own lethal fangs.  Her entire body vibrating and poised for attack and he saw, for the first time ever, how much she had truly changed from the innocent, sixteen year old girl he'd first fallen in love with.  Now, as he looked into the fierce, burning gold eyes of his mate, Spike was afraid.  She would hurt him if she had to, Spike knew it as surely as he knew his own name.

He forced himself to relax in hopes of diffusing the situation before it got out of hand.

That's when she attacked.

In a blur, she had him trapped between herself and the dresser with her smaller, softer body pressed firmly against his back.  He whimpered quietly as her fangs brutally ripped into his neck.  Her nails cut into the flesh of his hips as she jerked his pelvis against her own, using her upper body to force his own down against the dresser's surface.

Blood spilled across his back where she tore his skin.  She slid her fingers through the thick, red fluid, liberally coating the digits.  Spike cried out in a mixture of pleasure and pain when she abruptly thrust those fingers into him and worked them furiously. Refusing to remain idle, her other hand slid over his lower abdomen, encircling his rigid staff in a firm grip.  His eyes slammed shut as she stroked him mericlessly, keeping in time with her other hand as the fingers, now slick from where she'd torn the sensitive flesh surrounding her pounding digits.  Her tongue made a wet trail up to his ear. "You know the best part?" she purred in a low, lustful whisper.  He moaned as her thumb stroked the head of his straining erection.  She laughed softly. "It's how much I love it when you scream as you cum."

Her hardened nipples rubbed enticingly against his back. "I love the power I have to decide when and if I'll let you cum."  Her fangs scraped his earlobe. "Tell me what you want."

"Please, baby...," he whimpered when she abruptly stopped touching him. "I need..."

He felt her grin against his shoulder, fangs gone and human mask once again in the fore.  Knowing that tormenting him was delighting her pissed him off.  How dare the little bitch bring him to the edge and then leave him!

Spike spun on his heel and shoved her to the floor beneath him,  thrusting his aching cock into her tight, drenched pussy as far as he could go. He felt himself bumping against her cervix with each vicious thrust, determined to fuck her until she passed out.  She screamed over and over as he drove into her welcoming body, her razor sharp nails tearing bloodied furrows into his back.

Abruptly, he pulled out of her, flipping her to her stomach and yanking her up to her knees. He thrust into her once, twice, a third time, coating himself with the flood of juices from her dripping core. "Two can play this game, luv," he reminded her.

A split second later, his fangs tore into her throat as he shoved himself into her other, tighter entrance.  He was close, having already been quite thoroughly worked over in the beginning. As he pumped into her, he reached a hand down in the nest of brown curls to vigorously rub her clit.

Their orgasms hit violently and they screamed out their pleasure as they fell forward in a heap of flesh drenched in blood and body fluids, panting from their furous coupling despite the fact that neither needed to breathe.

Conscious of the odd, uncomfortable position he'd trapped her in on the hardwood floor, Spike rolled himself onto his back and stared at the ceiling.  Mixed emotions swirled around his heart.  Lizette curled herself into his side, purring her contentment into his chest.  He smiled and stroked a hand up and down her back.

Gods, he loved her with an all consuming passion that at the same time overwhelmed and frightened him.  She was fierce and beautiful.  Lethal to enemies and gentle to those she loved.  His beautiful, perfect, mate.

His perfect mate whom had gone and done what he'd thought impossible just to have him in her arms once more.  His ensouled mate whom had allowed her demon to gain control over that very soul rather than become devistated by the loss of both her mate and the Childe they'd created together.

His golden goddess whom had been wantonly feeding on humans- quite possibly since the day he and Dawnie had been dusted.

Oh, luv, Spike thought mournfully. What have you done?





tbc......
A/N:  I just wanted to say THANK YOU! to all you beautiful people who have taken the time read and review my little tale.  Your feedback and encouragement has been..WOW!! You guys ROCK! 

For this chapter, I thought you guys might be a bit curious as to what's going on.  So far, Buffy's gone back in time with Willow's help and a little mystical container with essence d' Spike, turned William instead of allowing Dru to get her less that mentally stable talons on him.  William's mum is all sickly on her deathbed, Buffy's new Master of London and has sired another Childe by the name of Tulley. What's coming next?  A raid and plans for revenge. Someone is dusted.  Just remember that all actions have consequences.
Now, before I give anything else away, on with the fic-age...

beta'd by the Goddess, Oracleholly

Moving Backwards

Chapter Five:

Buffy could feel the grief tearing through her Childe and Mate and her heart broke for him.  She wanted to go to him; wanted to hold him and comfort him as he mourned his mother’s death.  The woman had lasted less than a week as her body fell to the ravages of sickness.  

The icy touch of death’s pale hands came to claim Lady Anne Worthington just before sunrise the previous day.  Her eyes had been filled with peace and love for the pride of her life, the pain finally receding from her crystalline orbs to leave a beatific smile alighting her graceful features.

The Master Vampiress knew all this courtesy of the claim.  She felt what Spike felt, emotions whirling and scattered thoughts drifting through the psychic link they now shared as both blessing and curse.  The Sire/Childe bond coupled with the Mating claim was made stronger still by the great power each held with the status of Master Vampire.  Buffy’s own power was magnificent, as her mystical strengths had nearly tripled upon her turning from Slayer to vampire.

No amount of power, however, could change the fact that the love of her life and unlife was grieving for the loss of one more person he loved so soon after they’d lost Dawnie.  Whereas Buffy had been given time to mourn their Childe’s final death, Spike felt the loss so keenly that it seemed only days instead of months.

So focused was she on the thoughts and emotions coming through the claim, that Buffy was startled by Veronique’s sudden appearance within the bedchamber.  The anxiety written in the female’s dark eyes and the slight tremble of her tiny frame sent a jolt of disquiet through the blonde, and Buffy rose from her seat at her writing table.  “Ronnie,” she called softly as she beckoned the girl forward.

The small act of compassion broke whatever control Veronique had managed to display, and Buffy had to brace herself when the female threw herself at her mistress’ feet and wrapped herself around Buffy’s legs.  She was a little surprised when Veronique buried her face into the thick folds of the gown and sobbed as though her heart was being torn from her chest.  Even more surprising was just how much this creature reminded her of Dawn. 

Oh, Dawnie...

Buffy gave herself a mental shake and focused on the girl whose sobbing had become a high-pitched whimpering.  Soothing her as best as she could, Buffy growled softly and stroked her fingers through the long, raven colored tresses, which had been left to freely hang to Ronnie’s waist.

Long minutes ticked by as the young female wept and trembled against her mistress.  Once the initial storm receded and Veronique’s misery quieted to the occasional hiccup, Buffy lifted the girl’s face with a questioning gaze.  In reply, fresh tears welled in already bloodshot eyes and a name was whispered on the still air.

“Matthais.” 

Buffy’s heart lurched in her chest as she processed the weight of that name.  The young male’s face rose up in her mind, as she remembered the fledge’s fierce attention and protection of the broken girl at her feet.  He was the one who’d told Buffy of the girl’s mistreatment by the old Master.  She’d known then that there was something between the two vampires.

Matthais had begged Tulley to take him along on his assignment to follow the three Aurelian vampires whom had invaded her territory.  Buffy had given her Childe leave to choose the vampires he trusted.  Though hesitant of putting the young vampire in danger, Tulley had finally caved to Matthais’ eager pleas.

Veronique stammered and stumbled through the news that her man had been dusted.  That word – dusted - alone caught as a strangled sob in the vampiress’ throat.  Once more, Buffy began issuing soft growls and stroking the dark head pressed against her middle as she stretched out her senses in search of her Childe.   Tulley was injured and holed up with the surviving vampires he’d taken with him as the small band of demons awaited sunset.  As long as Tulley was not dust, the former constable would recover from his injuries no matter how severe. 

It seemed to take a small eternity, but Buffy was finally able to lull Veronique into an uneasy rest.  She resumed her seat at the antique writing desk.  Her demon was agitated and thoughts of revenge replaced her earlier focus on Spike.

In the waning light as afternoon turned into evening, the Master of London plotted and planned retribution against the ones responsible for taking one of her own.   Idea after idea flitted through her mind until, at last, a pure, sadistic smile curved her lips and a slight rumbling purr emanated from her chest. 

The sun had finally slipped below the horizon and the petite vampiress made her way to the window drawing back the heavy draperies to look out over her city.  Her smile became soft giggles the more she contemplated her plan.  It would take a few days to set everything in motion, but the payoff promised to be absolutely delicious.

***************************************************
It took two weeks before all the factors of her plan for revenge fell into place.   She’d overseen every detail personally; gone over every last aspect with those of her clan whom she trusted most for this mission.  Even Spike, despite his reservations, had been supportive of her plans.  

Now it was time to implement her revenge.  She and Spike led the raiding party just after sunset.  Silent as the grave, the two master vampires invaded the lair in which Angelus and his females had nested.  Together with Tully and two-dozen of their strongest fighters, the battle was over in moments.  Drusilla was dust and Darla had escaped during the chaos, but Buffy had what she’d come for: Angelus. 

The dark haired vampire was bound with mystically strengthened chains.  He had been rendered unconscious from a handy little sleep agent Buffy had obtained from a local warlock.  Soon, with the help of her guests awaiting their return to the lair, Angelus would no longer be a problem.  For her, or for anyone, really.

“You certain you want to go through with this, luv?” Spike’s voice was low beside her ear and a rush of lust slammed through her.  She grinned and looked over her shoulder to where Tulley and Elijah were carting the large vampire between them.

“I really, really do.” 


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