Snapshots of Eternity by slinkl

A/N: The overall rating for this fic will be NC-17 for violence, bloodplay, sexual situations, language and themes such as attempted suicide. In the firest few chapters, a little explanation is needed. Both Buffy and Dawn are suffering from a great deal of grief induced emotional and mental instability.

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. Never have and never will.

Snapshots of Eternity
Chapter One:
"Open Your Eyes

beta'd by Oracleholly

She'd been crying for months. Slowly sinking further and further into that void of despair. Yet no one knew it wasn't really her in control. No one had come to visit, because no one doubted the well-thought out excuses of her devoted assistant, the sister who was actually the daughter. The daughter now playing the mother, their roles effectively reversed. She'd learned how to do it from the enitity that was 'father'.

Her genetic make-up screamed for the paternal being to come and make the mother being better. They were both drowning in their sorrow, and spells could only do so much to ease their suffering. Just ease a part of the ache, but still leave all the rest of her raw, like open, bleeding wounds. While the misery and the heartbreak shredd their world, she clung to it, for misery and heartbreak seemed to be all that was left of their souls.

The sister/daughter sank to her knees in the deep cream pile of carpet outside the sister/mother's closed bedroom door. As tears silently rolled down her cheeks, her body shook violently. It had been six months since Sunnydale, but each day they died a little more without him. Each night they clung to each other as they drifted off into fitful slumber. Each silently knowing that the other was just something to hold onto and get them through the nighttime...his time...when his kind roamed.

Her hand gently caressed her scars, fingers ghosting along the marred flesh. The scar was almost nothing now; just skin that marked where his razor sharp fangs had pierced her delicate flesh at the bend of her left elbow as a claim of family and protection. No one outside of the three of them knew she'd been marked as his. A private mark shared between her and the parent beings, though false memories said they were otherwise.

As she touched the marks, she started frantically stretching, reaching, searching along that too long psychic tripwire linking the three of them together. She easily the burning red from the sister/mother and her own emerald green of the sister/daughter. On and on and down and out into that endless black which spread into forever in all directions. She was drifting throughout the black sea of nothingness and everything, her consciousness fully submersing in the endlessness of it all.

Ahh...there it was...

A wall. That aggravating wall! A huge, ominous, mental and psychic shield opposing her quest, like an ancient castle's impenetrable defenses. A moat with its ominous, lurking presense warning: DANGER! KEEP OUT! NONE SHALL PASS!!

She knew that the very oldest of magicks and rituals were used to protect one mate if the other should perish. Still facing that wall infuriated her. It kept her out, separate. And her need to connect overwhelmed her.

What was that?

The shield had the tiniest of cracks. The faintest whisper of blue/purple light was filtering through. Essence! Friend/father! Impossible!

Pretty to think so.

The thought made her more aware of what was going on about her.

The world outside had grown eerily quiet, so she pushed back from the void, pulled out, dragged away and returned along the green and the red lines. She had stayed too long. She had to get back before anyone knew what she'd done. She'd used too much energy and would have to use even more to cover her tracks. Folding the layers of her path taken obscurity in case anyone came after and tried to track her signature to where she'd been, she made her way back to the other reality.

She came back to herself with the sprig of Lethe's Bramble pinched between left thumb and forefinger. She cupped it and whispered one word: Forget.

Dawn blinked and wiped the tears coursing down her cheeks. Why was she sitting on the floor outside Buffy's room with a piece of potpourri from the basket on the entry table? She stood with a sense of not-quite-right-ness, still able to hear soft whimpering from within the bedroom and felt helpless.

Should she start slipping sedatives into those herbal teas Buffy seemed to drink 24/7? Would sedatives help or would they push her further into depression? She'd pray to the Goddess for strength and guidance.

Dawn decided she would make one last attempt at making herself feel better tonight. The cold, fresh air on the terrace helped to drown out the lingering sound of her sister's anguish. Gazing into the clear night sky with thousands of glittering stars twinkling merrily down at a sleeping city, she felt a semblance of peace.

Snippets of long ago conversations in a sun dappled kitchen with yellow curtains fluttering in the soft summer breeze...

*********************
"What is it? Why does every chick I know nearly lose it over that guy? What's he got that I don't?" Xander asked in earnest.

"He's very manly and has a large penis. You can tell whenever he goes around Buffy in those tight jeans and leather pants he always wears. I bet he gives her lots of orgasms."

"ANYA!!!" Xander cried in mortification at his fiance's tactless and inappropriate observation.

Both in support of her newly betrothed friend and with sadistic glee at furthering Xander's torment, Dawn nodded enthusiastically. "I think it's his perfectly heart-shaped ass!" Here, the Key provides a double-handed grabby motion for dramatic effect. "You could probably bounce quarters off an ass that firm!"

"Dawn! Not you, too?!"

Dawn shrugged. "'m just sayin'". Privately, she was ticking off the moments to find out if Xander's head will explode or if he would pass out from all the embarrassment. After all, he was the one who insisted on hanging with the estrogen brigade instead of going to that seminar with Giles.

"Razor sharp cheekbones," Tara offered, delighted when the male in the room shot a dirty look her way. She let out an appreciative sigh, "And the eyes. They're like soothing pools of liquid sapphire." Slyly, she glanced at her girlfriend with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

"That mouth is what really gets me," Willow admitted with a dreamy smile. "Ooh, what I wouldn't give for just an hour alone with that mouth..."

Yep. Any second now. Combustible Xander right in the middle of the Summers' kitchen.

The basement door opened, and Buffy emerged, her clothing wonderfully askew revealing more than it covered. Flushed skin coated in sweat, chest heaving as though she'd just run ten miles uphill at full Slayer speed. "It's the accent," she explained and reached into the freezer for a handful of ice. Her eyes are nearly crossed as she envisioned the naughty words he whispered in her ear in that deep, sensual baritone. "That bad boy Cockney, all rumbly growly rough and tumble. All it takes is one little crook of the eyebrow and a few whispered naughties and I'm ready for him to throw me against the nearest wall and take me all the way to happyland." She grinned wickedly and did a sexy little shimmy, a la Faith, to further the visual.

Everyone was so caught up in Buffy's words they didn't notice the shirtless vamp in question slipping out of the basement and approaching the blonde Slayer. He took the ice from her with a devilish smirk and an impish wink that made her knees weak. "Here, kitten. Lemme get that for you," he whispered in his sexy bedroom voice just loud enough for the whole room to here.

Oh, so slowly, Spike glided the melting cubes over Buffy's overheated flesh. His eyes locked onto hers as she softly whimpered at the contact. His fingers drew lazy patterns along the sensitive skin of her throat, across her collarbone, down between her breasts.

Four sets of eyes flickered to Xander in an attempt to gauge his reaction to the erotic display before him.

Yep. Any second now...

The vampire's tongue followed the trail of water from the hollow of his love's throat up along her jawline to capture her lips in the kind of kiss one can only see on late night cable. Limbs entwined as they pressed closer and closer. One of Buffy's supple thighs wrapped itself around his denim-clad hip. Pelvises slid and grounded against each other.

The Slayer emitted a long, lusty moan...

The vampire growled his excitement...

THUDD!!!

All action came to a sudden halt and six heads turned to find an unconscious Xander lying atop the freshly waxed linoleum.

"I'll be damned, Slayer!" Spike grinned down at the supine carpenter, "Bloody well worked!"

Buffy beamed as she checked her watch and held out her hands, "I called twenty minutes! Pay up, guys!"

"Not fair," Dawn pouted as she handed over a wrinkled twenty-dollar bill. "Isn't gambling illegal?"

"Yep," Buffy agreed as she counted her winnings to be split with Spike.

"Not fair," Dawn grumbled with the infamous Summers' pout in full affect. "We agreed no hands."

"It's all in how you look at it, Sweetbit," Spike explained to the sulking teen as he tucked his half of the loot into his pocket. "You said we couldn't put our hands on Harris. Never said Big Sis an' I couldn't put our hands on each other."

"Dammit," disgruntled and broke, Dawn wandered off in search of more people to swindle.

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

Ahh, happier times, Dawn thought with fondness. Staring at the sky, Dawn noted that the sun would be up in a couple of hours. Hopefully Buffy will have found some peace in her dreams. Maybe she'd even find a few happy memories of her own.

With her head down and eyes closed, Dawn startled as a pair of strong arms enveloped her and pulled her back against an equally strong chest.

"Open your eyes, Nibblet."

Oh, God!...His voice!...No! It can't be! He's...he's...he's...

Turning herself around to see the truth with her own eyes, she saw her sister/mother and the owner of those strong arms. Standing beside him, tears of joy are falling from Buffy's eyes. Unbeknownst to Dawn, Buffy's tears had been falling off and on since his arrival on their doorstep while Dawn had been at work.

Dawn was speechless for a moment as her eyes traveled from one blonde to the other, "Spike?"

"Yeah, Nibblet?"

"It's really you?"

"It's really me."

"You're here with us? Not gonna go away again?" Inwardly she cringed at sounding like the little girl she once was and not the woman she had been pretending to be during these long months.

"Never gonna leave my sweet, beautiful girls alone again," he promised as he pulled them both into his arms and held them for all he was worth.

Home.

He was finally home where he belonged, the Key thought. Spike, friend/father, the father being was finally home where he belonged. Yes, indeed. Things were falling into their rightful places.

tbc

Disclaimer: I own nothing

This chapter beta'd by the wonderully delightful AmyB

Chapter Two:   Moonbeams and Gentle Whispers part I

Monday nights were fairly quiet at the Bronze. No band meant very few high school kids, and not too many college students, either; mostly, the crowd consisted of townies milling around the pool tables, lining the bar and drifting across the dance floor. All in all, Mondays provided a nice change of pace from the usual crush and din of too many bodies packed into a too small space.

Tonight was special—an anniversary, of sorts. Two months ago, today, she'd crawled out from the grave and back into her own living hell. She'd been in heaven after sacrificing her own life to save the world, at peace and happy; then her friends decided to snatch her from all that peace and love and eternal rest. She almost hated them for it.

Sticking to the shadows surrounding the dance floor, a lithe figure swathed in black leather and an air of menace prowled the room. His nostrils flared as he sensed another of his kind—a young one, newly made and hunting. Nothing more than a hungry leech, trying in vain to play the wolf in sheep's clothing.

Spike smiled slowly, wondering if this fledgling knew why there were no others like it in the club. After all, the Bronze had once been the prime hunting ground in a town known for its demonic population. All that changed had changed, however, with the arrival of the a petite blonde girl chosen to eradicate their kind.

A sigh of longing directed towards the dance floor escaped his lips and Spike closed his eyes, allowing his senses to guide him to his current prey. His head turned until he located the vampire, a female who had apparently been in her mid-twenties when she'd been turned. Voluptuous curves were barely concealed by painted-on black leather pants topped by a tight, wine-colored top with a low neckline and bell-shaped sleeves. Long, curly, bottle-red hair spilled over her shoulders and down her back. The heavy black boots she wore brought her up to Spike's own height of nearly six feet.

Whoever had made this one had had taste. She was delicious, and under normal circumstances, he'd have gloried in all the things he could do to a body like that. But, not tonight—tonight was special. He was feeling oddly benevolent and decided that in honor of the special occasion, he'd give this one a one-time “get out of jail free” card.

It was a testament to her youth that she was oblivious to his presence until the master vampire was upon her. His stealthy approach was, for him, a disappointingly easy accomplishment since most of the newly-risen couldn't sense other vampires in a crowd. Her entire body tensed warily as he moved very close to her, and a subtle tremor ran through her undead body—a very human gesture that put her age down as perhaps a handful of months. Spike could also tell, by her scent, that she'd yet to feed this night.

She hissed angrily and brought a hand up to claw at his face, unprepared for the lightning-quick reflexes afforded to a master. Spike caught her wrist before she could draw blood and smiled lazily at her, her pathetic growls of warning exciting his own demon with the prospect of violence and bloodshed. "Now, now," he purred. "No need for violence, pet." The fledgling continued to growl in an attempt to hide the fear he could smell on her, and he took pity on her, deciding to end the suspense. "Forgive me, milady. I was staring. Name's Spike," he murmured seductively, brushing a brief kiss to the hand he held, as he easily caught the other hand that was coming towards his head and pinned it to her side. He leaned close to her ear and whispered, "You are delicious, pet. Got a name?"

"I'm not your pet!" the vampiress snarled. "And my name's Cheyenne."

Spike's smile grew wider at the Southern drawl, and he blatantly looked his fill, pinning her under his gaze until he scented her arousal. Oh, yeah, he still had it. One word and this tasty bit was all his. Too bad he wasn't interested.

Spike released her hand, and it dropped to hang loosely at her side. He ran his own free hand over her curves, letting it rest lightly on her shapely hip, and thrilling when she swayed closer to him in eager expectation of further caresses. He breathed in deeply and pressed his mouth to the side of her neck, pretending that the cloying perfume she'd bathed in didn't make him nauseous. "A bit of advice, luv," he whispered, leaning away to watch her face as his eyes dropped all pretenses of the charm and seduction of they had held only a moment before and became serious. "This is my town. Mine and the Slayer's. I catch you hunting in here again, I'll make you very sorry."

Once more, his faster reflexes gave him the advantage as he grabbed her by the throat and pinned her to the wall. Her eyes grew impossibly wide and fearful as his grip tightened to a pressure just shy of crushing. "Your sire was remiss in your education, fledgling. Ask around. First I'll strip the skin from every inch of your delectable body, and when I'm through, I'll stake you to the ground and leave you for the sun. If you're lucky, the Slayer'll come along and dust you out of pity. Either way, you'll still be ashes." Shoving her away from him, he let out a vicious growl. "Now get out!"

Not waiting around to find out if the master vampire was serious, the fledgling vampiress hightailed it to the nearest exit. Spike grinned; sometimes it was fun to play with the kiddies. Fledgies were so easy, gullible and easily bullied. He'd been spending so much time around humans over the last couple of years that he sometimes forgot how much he missed being a vampire. Albeit, he was a neutered vamp, but he was still an immortal predator, nevertheless. Unless someone shoved a redwood through his chest or he took up sunbathing as a new hobby, that little factoid was never going to change, regardless of the company that he kept.

A familiar song began flowing from the club's mounted speakers, and Spike's whole demeanor changed once more, the last ten minutes fading into nothing. Leaning against the wall, he dug in his pocket for a cigarette and tucked it between his lips, lighting it with a battered silver Zippo and inhaling deeply. Through the smoke he exhaled, his eyes—darkening from a sky blue to nearly indigo with increased lust— traveled back to the dance floor, where the object of his obsession swayed to the slow, erotic beat. Enthralled, he watched her move—she of the flashing green eyes and flowing golden hair.

I would die for you
I would die for you
I've been dying just to feel you by my side
To know that you're mine

The entire world fell away and it was just the two of them. He'd known she would be here tonight—it was, after all, a special night. As couples swayed together in light and shadow, he prowled through the smoky room to keep her in sight.

I would cry for you
I would cry for you
I'd wash away your pain with all my tears
And drown your fears

The black slip of a dress she'd worn tonight showed her figure to perfection as it flowed over her like water. Her arms were raised high above her head, bringing the hem higher up her thighs. With her eyes closed and her face tilted upwards, she was alone in her own little world; all that existed was the music and the moon and the millions of twinkling stars outside the confines of the small town club. The sounds of Garbage's #1 Crush slid pulsed around and through her, bringing her body to a state of heightened awareness.

For a few precious minutes, she felt alive again.

Sometimes it was all too easy to forget that she was a person instead of a shadow. It was so hard to remember that she was real, made of flesh and blood and possessed of a beating heart. When she and Spike tore and clawed at one another in frenzied passion, when she begged for him to hurt her and he readily complied, then she was real. Only he did that for her, fed her pain in intervals so that for a time she could feel. Those moments were the only ones to capable of reminding her that she was real. He made her alive once more, even if it was only temporary.

See your face every place that I walk in
Hear your voice every time that I'm talkin'
You will believe in me
And I can never be ignored

Buffy lowered her arms to run her hands lightly down her body until they rested just above the hem of her dress. Cool fingers settled on her shoulders, the calloused pads gliding over her flesh and leaving goose bumps in their wake. She shivered at the contact and leaned back against the hard chest behind her; soft leather tickled her calves as she kept moving to the rhythm.

Strong arms weaved through the bends of her elbows to fold across her front, and one thumb stroked the underside of her left breast while a hand curled around her right hip. Cool lips slid from the sensitive spot behind her ear down the smooth expanse of of her throat until they pressed the barest of kisses to her left shoulder. Always the left side and never the right, where she'd been marked by three different vampires: the Master to kill her, Angel to cure him, and Dracula to seduce her.   Spike would never mark her in a place where another had tasted.

Even with her eyes closed, Buffy could feel the movement, and she knew that they had left the dance floor. The night air smelled of the recent rain, and a light breeze ruffled the ends of her hair while muted lightning forked across the horizon. It felt good after the heavy atmosphere inside the Bronze, and she allowed him to pull her along by the hand as they moved through the dark alley, her high-heeled shoes making a loud clack-clack-clack as she kept pace.

He stopped and turned to her. "Know what tonight is, kitten?" he asked in that low, rumbling voice that sent shivers skittering over her skin and tendrils of heat curling in her belly. He pulled her hand to his lips and lay pressed a kiss against her palm. "Look around, luv. See where we are?"

She obeyed and really looked at her surroundings for a moment. She remembered this spot; he saw the spark of recognition as the knowledge flickered behind her eyes. "Why are we here?"

I would burn for you
Feel pain for you
Twist the knife and bleed my aching heart
And tear it apart

"It's our anniversary. Five years, luv. I ever tell you the first time I saw you, you were dancing? One glimpse and I wanted you. Drusilla punished me for it. She could feel you in my head and left me because of it." He smiled at the gorgeous creature's surprise. "First time she ever really felt threatened."

He ran one long finger down the pulse of her jugular, eyes following the movement and noticing the effect he had on her as she became even more aroused. "Tell me you love me," he demanded, not meeting her eyes.

"I love you."

"Tell me you want me."

"I always want you." Her breathing hitched up another notch as her back pressed to the scratchy surface of the brick wall. She gripped the lapels of his duster and pulled him tightly against her body. In the darkness she felt his face shift as he nuzzled the left side of her neck.

"Tell me to stop. Push me away before it's too late," he practically begged, all the while silently praying that she would not.

Don't stop." Her voice was tinged with lust, and she was pressing tighter and tighter against his body while she gripped the back of his head. Her other hand came up to play with the curls at the nape of his neck as she held his face against her. "Do it."

A loud gasp echoed down the alley and was soon followed by a fiercely growled, "Mine".

I would die for you

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

Buffy shot up in bed and did her best to swallow her heart back down into place from its current position in her throat, choking back alongside it with the scream that hovered on her lips. Her body shook with cold sweat and unspent passion, even as the tears of brutal truth and harsh reality poured over her. She was in Rome. Sunnydale was gone. Spike was gone.

Dead to save them.

"You promised you wouldn't leave me," she whimpered into the silence of the room as she and curled into a ball on her too big, too lonely bed.

A knock on the door to the flat was her only response.

Buffy lay there for several long minutes, debating getting up to answer the knock. Maybe whoever was there would go away if she didn't answer. That theory, however, only lasted for about five minutes before she was ready to reach for something extra sharp and pointy. Sighing, she stood and, instead of a weapon, grabbed her robe and shrugged it on, tying the sash as she padded through the living room and threw open the door.

And promptly froze from sudden shock.

Several long minutes passed in silence as she openly gaped at the black leather duster she'd once sworn to steal from his body before she dusted him for good. The high cheekbones she'd envied so often, the very cheekbones she'd spent hours touching, stroking and kissing. The cerulean eyes that had always held his every emotion, revealing him completely to her when they were alone, when it was just the two of them in a little world of their own creation. The wide, sensual mouth that had brought her to such great pleasure that she'd felt like she was dying more than just the "little death" the poets were so fond of describing.

At long last, it sank into her fuzzy brain that what she was seeing was real. Gulping in much needed oxygen, she finally found the courage to speak.

"Sp-Spike?"

The most beautiful smile she'd ever beheld curved that incredible mouth of his. He took a deep breath, a hand reaching out for her.

"Hello, Cutie."

Beta'd by Oracleholly

Chapter Three:   Moonbeams & Gentle Whispers part II

"Hello, Cutie...."

Just two simple words had been all it took. Six months of pain, heartache and gut wrenching misery just evaporated like the smoke from one of his cigarettes. Intangible for seconds, leaving behind a lingering, acrid stench before even that faded to nothing.

Too afraid he would disappear and this would turn out to be just another dream, she didn't ask where he'd been or how he'd returned. If he'd been granted admission to Heaven then snatched away through another's selfishness, it would destroy whatever was left of her soul. On the other hand, if he wanted to talk about it, she would listen as he'd once done the same for her. For now, though, all that mattered was that he was here.

He'd come back to her. His hands were really touching her face. His long, calloused fingers were sliding through her sleep tousled blonde hair. His soulful blue eyes, whiche always though resembled the color of the sky on a clear summer's day, were really gazing into her own hazel green orbs. His strong arms were really wrapped around her, and holding on tight while his cool lips rained tiny kisses over her face and neck, paying special attention to the prominent bite scars adorning the left side of her slender throat.

How was it possible that her neck still bore their claiming marks? Shouldn't the marks have faded the moment his body had turned to ash? Wasn't that what usually happened with these things? Hadn't she been told that when one one mate dies, the claim is dissolved and the survivor has the freedom to find another mate?

She didn't know the answer to that, and she couldn't ask anyone since only Dawn knew the truth. She'd already read every book on vampire claims and mating rituals she could obtain. Her mind had been mired with a myriad of questions, which she couldn't form into coherent words. One stray thought seemed to worm itself away from the others, forcing itself into the front of her awareness. Could the continuing existence of her marks have something to do with her new condition?

Now, words from another lifetime came back to haunt her in this moment. Words she'd heard shouted from his own lips the night she clawed her way from her own grave. It'd barely registered amongst the chaos in her mind back then. At the time, the only thing she'd been able to understand had been the incredible gentleness of his touch on her ravaged hands and the softness of his words and expression as he'd tried to care for her.

Then the others had swarmed at her like angry bees with their questions and demands for answers and their petty bickering over what was best for the newly resurrected Slayer. Honestly, did they actually believe pizza was the best cure for someone they'd just rescued from a hell dimension? And that was before they'd found out she'd actually been in Heaven.

Somehow, she'd managed to escape the stifling attentions of her friends and watched him from her darkened bedroom window. He'd left the house and stood beneath the tree outside her room where he allowed the tears of pent up emotion to fall freely down the sharp angles of his high cheekbones. Then Xander and Anya had come outside and Xander had started in on him with his usual self-righteous attitude. Buffy stood helpless at her window, unable to look away from the pain in Spike's eyes. The two males had argued briefly before Spike stalked toward his motorcycle, his parting shot shouted over his shoulder as he revved the powerful bike.

"There's always consequences to magick! Always!"

Always consequences...

The universe never gives anything without demanding something in return. There's always a price to be paid when asking the Fates for a favor. The measurer, the cutter, the weaver-the three sisters loved their cosmic jokes. Then there was everybody's favorite torturer, that bitch named Karma.

Always consequences to magick...

She should have known those words would eventually come back to bite her on the ass.

She hadn't understood it at the time; too caught up in the carnage and destruction going on around her. Later, after she'd had time to go over the details in her head, the strange idea first began to take root in her mind. Hysterical laughter and tears had assaulted her by turns as she had cursed irony and the Fates and those fucking Powers that everyone always went on about. They'd really screwed her this time and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

At one point, her emotional breakdown had become so extreme that only Dawn and Faith stood between Buffy and a lengthy stay at some Council sponsored mental health facility. The rogue Slayer and the former Key had taken Buffy to Rome where she would be away from the prying eyes of others. They'd settled into a flat where Buffy spent a majority of her time in bed. Several suicide attempts had earned her the constant presence of either one or the other of her companions. If she got too bad, Faith would knock her out or Dawn would perform small spells to keep her quiet.

During those four months Faith had been with them, Buffy's mind had constantly replayed scenes from the battle against the First. She remembered the Turok-han's sword going into her lower back, only missing her spinal chord by a wish. The shock as the bloodied, steel tip of the blade jutting from her belly had driven her face first into the dirty cavern floor while the First taunted and crowed its delight at Buffy's impending death. All around, new slayers screamed as they were ripped apart by the vampires that vampires fear.

That's when it had first happened. In mere moments, her body healed the fatal wound. Even with her Slayer healing, she should have been dead. Only Willow's spell to unlock the Scythe's essence and call forth the power of the Slayer line had been completed by then. When the spell first occurred, Buffy had felt that power move into her, its energies shooting through her every cell before moving on to Faith and spreading to all the potentials across the world. In the few seconds they had before the Turok-han army had reached them, the two Chosen Ones had born witness to an entire army of female warriors born in blood and baptized in fire. Mere words failed to accurately describe the magnitude of such an event.

But, there hadn't been time to consider her miraculous recovery as the legion of hell came in a nightmarish wave of mottled flesh, putrid, needle sharp teeth and sharp claws intent on shredding flesh from bone.

It broke her heart all over again to remember that day within the bowels of the Hellmouth. She had to stop talking to Spike just for a little while to get her tears under control. Spike consoled her, telling her it it's okay, that she doesn't have to keep going. But, she continued anyway. He deserved to know what he sacrificed himself for; deserved to know what she's become.

Several more minutes passed before she got her emotions are more under control, and she was able to continue with her tale about the Scythe. The spell and the magicks invoked had transformed Willow into a true Goddess, who can now feel every slayer across the planet. She also gained the power to easily traverse the astral plane allowing her to communicate with the souls of fallen slayers. In response, Willow has sought sanctuary amongst the Shaolin monks at a Tibetan monestary where she has been trying to learn control over her new abilities as well as coping with the newfound immortality she's been gifted.

The Scythe didn't just change the Wicca. It had changed Buffy, as well. It recognized her as the new Guardian of the Slayer line. The last Guardian had lived for thousands of years while awaiting her replacement. Only when Buffy had gained possession of the powerful weapon, had the old Guardian been rendered mortal, permitting her to die at Caleb's murdering hands.

Buffy was no longer afraid. Her original fears after realizing her own immortality stemmed from knowing that, with the exception of Willow, everyone she knew and loved would eventually die and leave her to face eternity alone.

Ah, the joys of immortality.

But, now her love has returned to her.

Her skin pressed to his skin skin.
Tongues teasing, tasting, twisting.
Sweat soaked sheets.
Loving caresses, whispered promises.
Moments set aside in forever.
Hungry flesh wanting, needing.

Spike was here with her, making love to her and murmuring special words that brought soft whimpers and quiet sighs. Together they moved in the glow of candlelight, dancing their timeless, ageless dance. When it became too much for her and her emotions spill glittering liquid diamondsonto her cheeks, his lips kiss them away. His voice cooed loving words of devotion and assurance. His fangs carefully slide into her sensitive flesh while her blunt, human teeth broke through his own skin. Lost in the taste of blood, their bodies joined together in soul shattering bliss, as their claim was renewed.

They had found their way through the darkness and had come out on the other side.


Chapter Four: Quiet
beta'd by Oracleholly

She was a vision, Spike decided as he and Buffy silently watched Dawn standing on the small terrace. In less than a year's time, the little girl he remembered had been stripped away to reveal a young woman aged beyond her years. He didn't need to see her angular face -so much like his own that it still amazed him- to know her startlingly blue eyes would be closed and her high cheeks would be splotchy from crying. He could smell her tears the same as he could smell the faded scent of a delicate perfume she'd spritzed across her wrists that morning and the faint traces of the magicks she'd used. The scent of the magicks bothered him more than he liked. Yes, she'd used them to help Buffy through her a great deal of grief and misery. But, it hadn't been too long ago that Red had become so addicted to magicks that she'd nearly incenerated the entire earth after the senseless death of her lover. The very idea that his Niblet could suffer a similar fate terrified the Aurelian vampire. He'd have to keep a very careful eye on Dawn to be sure she didn't lose control of her chaotic neutral paower.

While he'd been lost in thought, a small sob managed to slip free from the young woman in question and he could see the slight trebling in her body. It tore at his hard one soul that he'd caused her this pain. He'd do anything to stop those tears from both his girls. Another emotionally shocking realization that filled his heart with joy and shame at the same time. After all the horror and bloodshed wrought by his deceptively gentle hands over the decades, after all the lives he'd destroyed and the helpless innocents he'd terrorized for the pure, unadulterated thrill of the hunt, the last thing he deserved was the love of these two miraculous creatures. He sure as hell didn't deserve their grief over his death.

Right then he made a silent vow to spend the rest of eternity doing anything and everything he could to put his small family's hearts and souls back together. It wasn't going to be easy and it wouldn't be an instant fix, but his girls were worth it.

He cast a sidelong glance at Buffy and saw that she had a soft smile, tinged with tears from all the emotional upheaval during the past hours since his arrival. Their eyes met and she gave him the barest of nods in encouragement. He didn't need a second invitation as he moved towards Dawn with catlike grace. He gave no warning before wrapping his arms around his and Buffy's mystically created daughter.
Screw false memories, Spike thought as he buried his nose in her long, brown hair.   All he needed was one tiny whiff of Dawn's unique scent -an odd combination of his and the Slayer's as well as something that was the girl's own fragrance- and one moment of studying all the attributes she'd inherited from him, to know the truth of it. Dawn Summers was his daughter as surely as if he'd impregnated the Slayer and watched the babe grow within her womb. He didn't really care that a bunch of frightened monks had somehow stolen a bit of his goodlooking and athletic DNA to mix in with what they'd stolen from Buffy. Dawn was the precious result and he wouldn't give that up for anything.

Dawn had gasped and gone stiff as a board the moment he pulled her back against his chest, the fact that he'd effectively pinned her arms to the side had not been lost on either of them. Her voice was a bare whisper he'd had to strain his senses to hear, but he'd understood the words. She didn't think he was real. Leaning his lips close to her ear, he whispered back, "Open your eyes, Niblet". Her entire frame shook violently and he spun her around to see the truth for herself.

Startled, she backed away and her luminous blue eyes surrepitisiously moved between the two blondes before easing a half step forward and calling his name with a shaky breath. His heart seemed to break at the fear he saw in her eyes. "Yeah, Niblet?"

"It's really you?"

'M not Father bleedin' Christmas. "It's really me." He assured her with a sweet smile.

A full step closer, her bottom lip trembling at the force of the tears she was desperately trying to hold back. "You're here with us? Not gonna leave us again?"

Oh, baby. Oh, God, what've I done to m' girls? How could he ever be worthy of them and the love they so freely offered him? He reached out and pulled her to him with a fierce determination, gathering her into his arms and enfoding Buffy against them so that their small circle was complete. "I'm never gonna leave my sweet, beautiful girls alone again," he promised them. And he'd be damned all over again if he let anything try to break that promise.

Somehow, the small family ended up back in Buffy's bed with Dawn cuddled between the beings who were the mother and the father. The air was saturated with all the emotions wrung from the females and the trio simply lay resting against each other in the now silent room. Dawn's eyes moved behind closed lids as she shut off her external senses and tuned in to that inner self that showed what her eyes could not see. That internal sense told her her that the claim between Slayer and vampire had been renewed as it detected the mingled essences of her parent beings.

A low growl of warning rumbled deep from deep within the chest pressed against her front while the body against her back stiffened in response. She looked up to meet the startling blue eyes of her father. Anger reflected back at her from within the cerulean depths and let her know that he was not unaware of her psychic proddings. Before she realized his intentions, his fangs were buried deep in the bend of her left elbow and she couldn't hold back the initial cry of pain from escaping her parted lips. Immediately, the psychic shield between them dissolved and she was left open and unprotected from the rapid flow of thoughts, images and emotions flooding her conscious.

As quickly as it had begun, the endless procession of the psychic information crashing over and through her, receded and his fangs had been replaced by a cool tongue gently licking the tiny puntures closed. The soothing purr now vibrating against her small frame calmed her agitated heart and mind. That part of Dawn that was still a little girl desperate for a father's love and reassurances cuddled closer to him and she buried her forehead against the base of his throat.

Soon enough both Dawn and Buffy drifted off into a peaceful, restorative sleep, leaving Spike to watch over them and consider all the things he'd learned since his arrival. It was alot to take in, the knowledge that had been so suddenly revealed to him at the moment of his recorporealization in shiny glass and chrome tower of evil his Grand Sire had been manipulated into running.

At first, Spike had been afraid to search out his girls. His insecurities that he could never be what Buffy and the Niblet needed or deserved had kept him in Los Angeles. Then the green guy, Lorne, had overheard Spike's loud, horridly off key singing during a night of drunken sulking.

"Spike," the Pylean empath and head of Wolfram & Hart's entertainment division, had said in an uncharateristically serious tone. The very lack of a pet name centered around baked goodies had caused Spike to sober immediately. Without any lead-in, the loudly dressed demon had imparted the results of his unsolicited reading of the vampire's aura.

And just like that, Spike had stuffed his few belongings and a wad of cash he'd stashed away in a metal box beneath his bed. Surprisingly, Angel had the company jet fueled and ready for the flight to Rome where Fred had learned Buffy had taken a flat with the Bit. Shocking him furthur, Peaches had pulled his wayward Grand Childe into his arms and wished him well and sent him on his way after promising that they would keep in touch.

Now that he was here, Spike could see for himself what needed to be done. First on the agenda would be to get his family the hell away from Rome. Wolfram & Hart had a branch office here and that could only lead to trouble. And there was no way Spike was taking them anywhere that even smelled of Council. The longer he could avoid the soddin Council and Rupert Giles, the happier he'd be. Instead, Spike would take his girls somewhere sunny and tropical. Yeah, some warm little island in the tropics where they could relax and soak up the glorius rays of the sun while drinking those fruity concoctions with the tiny paper umbrellas. of course, they'd need a chaperone for their daylight excursions since Spike felt he'd finally outgrown his fascination with self-immolation.

The girls trusted Faith and Spike couldn't think of anyone better suited to the task. First chance he got, he'd see about contacting the rogue. He also needed to get in touch with the family of solicitors that had handled Spike's private holdings since his human days. It was high time he put his inheretance to work. He'd offered the money to Buffy after she'd been brought back from Heaven and was struggling to make ends meet. But, she'd refused out of her sense of pride and the fact that she assumed the mony had come from illegal dealings.

This time around he wasn't giving her the choice.

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

Chapter 5: The Protector and Warrior
beta'd by Oracleholly

Three nights he'd been following her throughout the ancient city. Always staying in the shadows, he kept her in his sights while remaining far enough off her radar to go undetected. Several times he'd taken to the rooftops; running along uneven slopes and crumbling walls as silently as a mouse wearing felt slippers. What he remembered most about the rogue Slayer was that the girl danced to her own tune and made her own rules. She was a real tough as nails, ball-busting bitch who took what she wanted and to hell with anybody else. Her body was her weapon, and she used it well, trading sex for power and laughing outright at those gullible enough to buy whatever they thought she was selling. Faith's voluptuous curves, bedroom eyes and smokey voice enthralled men and women alike, keeping them oblivious to the enormous metaphorical blade she had trained on their unprotected backs.

Spike couldn't help but smirk at his spot on assessment of the dark Slayer. The polar opposite of his exquisite golden girl. Spike was man enough to admit that, had he met Faith first, it would no doubt have been lust at first sight. She personified what he'd once believed to be the perfect woman. Violence and hedonism wrapped in an incredibly sexy little package capable of making a bloke beg for any small scrap she deigned to throw from her table.

And to think Harris lost his virginity between her well toned thighs. Wonder if the Whelp fainted halfway through the ride of his bloody life.

The sounds of a scuffle drifted to Spike's ears from an alley, and he took to the roof of a nearby building to get a better look. He arrived just in time to see her take down some scaly thing, which turned into a bubbling puddle upon death. The rogue Slayer covered her nose and mouth, turning a bit green around the gills as the extremely foul odor permeated the alley. Luckily for him, he could simply choose not to inhale. Seconds later, Faith burst from the shadows and set off in a light jog to distance herself from the smell of decomposing demon, seemingly oblivious to the master vampire following her via the close buildings lining the quiet strata.

A scream split through the quiet night, and Faith put on an extra burst of speed, moving through the streets and alleys in a blur too fast for the average human to see. In just a few moments, she rounded a final corner and came upon the patio of a closed cafe. She stopped and folded her arms over her chest as she took in the sight of a woman held tightly in a pair of undead arms while the vampire attached to those arms was busy getting his feed on.

"Let her go," Faith sighed in what could only sound like a very bored tone.

Incredulous amber eyes looked up from his dinner. "What?!"

Faith sauntered closer, a staked clasped loosely in her right hand. "Look, Claudio-"

"Ricardo," the leech informed her as he lowered the corpse to an iron chair.

"Whatever," Faith shrugged. "The point is… I don't care if you nibble on the groupies or the weres. I made that truce with David so that this shit stopped happening. Bad business for you guys goin' out and slaughtering the masses."

Ricardo held his hands up and did his best to look innocent despite the incriminating evidence sprawled in an ungainly heap not two feet away. "I wasn't gonna kill her, Slayer! I promise!"

Faith's eyes widened with feigned shock. "Wait! You were, what? Just havin' a little snack before bed? Quick slip, nip and sip before gettin' yourself all tucked in for the day?"

"It was an accident? Um, the devil made me do it? Aliens?" whimpered Ricardo.

Faith sighed again. Twirling the stake in her right hand, she shook her head in disappointment even as her left hand aimed and fired the mini crossbow she'd been holding behind her thigh. Once Ricardo exploded in a shower of ashes, and Faith tucked away her weapons before moving to the corpse to check for a pulse she knew wasn't there. Blank eyes stared at her in accusation. Faith closed those eyes with gentleness as she thought over the grim task of informing David that she'd had to dust one of his minions.

Damn vampires. Offer them a taste and they suck you dry. Or break your heart and steal your soul, Faith thought as she ran her fingers through the luxurious hair she'd recently dyed the color of a good merlot.

The wind carried a familiar scent to her nose, and Faith found herself smiling. The fact that he still followed her after three long nights surprised her. From what she'd heard, William the Bloody had never been known for his patience. Especially where Slayers were concerned.

Glancing briefly at the dead woman in the chair, Faith sighed once more and continued on her way. The sun would be up in a few hours, but now she needed to go see David. Perhaps there she might figure out why the hell the platinum haired vampire was tailing her throughout Rome.

******

Night Haven was still packed by the time Faith arrived. No matter how many times she'd been to this club, it never ceased to surprise her just how many vampires could be gathered in one place without a massacre in the works. But, David had pulled it off. With over four hundred years experience, David placed business ahead of any petty vampire squabbles, and in doing so built an entire underground city for his people.

Night Haven was David’s favorite venture in his underworld. While the cover of the ‘Haven’ was a Goth club, vampires and weres played by the rules. No killing of innocents was permitted, so the vamps had to content themselves with bagged blood, were-animal or willing donors. Breaking those rules brought unwanted attention to the community. Now that there an entire slew of Slayers, ten - plus the Guardian, herself, had settled in Rome, David had no intention of violating the truce he'd made with Faith and the Council of Watchers. A violation of the truce would hurt business, meaning less money in his bank accounts; the mere thought of it rankled his sensibility.

In exchange, David was allowed to conduct his business anyway he chose. As long as the bodies didn't start piling up, Faith didn't give a damn what David did. Then, again, Faith didn't care about much these days.

Slipping through the crowd with ease, Faith was already sliding off her thigh length leather coat as she hit the iron stairs that would carry her up to David's private lounge. Dante, a bulging, no neck thug wearing a suit that probably cost more than Faith's prized Ninja, blocked her way. "I'm so not in the mood," she warned the mook.

"Like I give a shit." Dante hissed. "Weapons. Now."

Faith sneered and handed over her crossbow, two stakes, and a set of brass knuckles she had painted a matte black so they would not catch a glint of light at the wrong moment. Dante seemed satisfied that she had surrendered everything, so he didn't pat her down. Stupid Dante was clueless about the many knives and throwing stars she had concealed in various places. "Happy?" she smiled sweetly at the henchvamp.

"Watch your tongue, human," Dante snarled. "David isn't always going to be around to ensure it's not ripped from your skull."

"You wanna throw down, big guy?"

"ENOUGH!" David thundered from his seat. Still smiling that saccharine smile belying just how badly she wanted to tear into the overgrown bully, Faith blew Dante a kiss and sauntered to the empty chair at David's table. David ranked as one of the hottest guys she'd ever laid eyes on, living or undead. And considering she'd been in the presence of the two very virile Aurelian males, Angelus and William the Bloody, David’s appeal placed him in very good company. She offered up her sultriest smile while she roamed her eyes over his chiseled face and long glossy hair, which he kept pulled in a que at the base of his skull. Her eyes focused on the his wide, sensual mouth that had been the object of many a fantasy over the past six months they'd been acquainted.

David cleared his throat and smiled knowingly as his nostrils flared. She knew he knew his effect on her libido just like she knew he was harboring quite a few fantasies of his own. Now though was not the time to indulge. Instead of getting distracted by the undeniable attraction they felt for each other, she picked up his glass of scotch and drank it down in one gulp. "I can't decide what it is with the big baby," she commented with a nod toward Dante's back. "Does he hate me cause I'm human, a Slayer or because he wants to fuck me?"

"Pick one," David shrugged. "Results will remain unchanged."

Faith nodded and set the empty glass back on the table. "Dusted Ricardo. Found him feeding not too far from here. Just thought you should know."

As a sudden jolt hit her system, Faith went utterly rigid as every fiber of her being shouted at her to return to the Guardian's side. She swore ripely knowing she had no choice but to obey.

Outside on the street, Spike took off at a dead run as panic coursed through his link from Buffy told him something was very wrong.

A/N: I just wanted to take a moment to say thank you to everyone who's read and
reviewed up to this chapter. You guys are unbelievable! And a special thank
you to the Goddess for her boundless patience. Luv, you, Sweetz! Couldn't ask
for a better beta or friend! And, thank you, redwulf50 for keeping the laughs
going and distracting me when I get stressed out. If not for you, my head would
likely explode!

Chapter Six: Hearing Voices
beta'd by Oracleholly

A small part of Buffy's mind understood what was happening even as the rest of
her was unable to escape the multitude of voices that had joined together in a
screaming cacophony ripping apart her sanity. She was trapped, alone and
helpless, and unable to flee the images rolling across the canvas of her
dreamland.

White gloved hands...coming towards her...an hypodermic needle filled with some
clear fluid meant to subdue her ...Those hands changing and superimposing
themselves over larger, dirtier hands ... vials of ugly brown liquid ... brown
dirty floor ...dirty...dirty...”dirty girls”... “Naughty and must be punished”
... chains holding her down ... laughter while she screamed ... ‘cuz it isn't
any fun if he can't make her cry and scream ... “Please! I'll be good girl!”....
Don't... help me ... Mommy, make him ... nooooo! ... Blue ...Yellow and blue
make green ... green like grass and dragon scales ... gibberish in dozens of
languages ... the demon holding her down ... squeezing the air from her
struggling body ... fangs tearing into her throat ...ripping the flesh...her
blood...pouring in a scalding wave down her chest...cruel laughter as she slid
into death...the bone saw got caught halfway and she pushed harder...the sticky
purple pooling atop stark white tile...fingers swirling through the warm, tacky
fluid...war paint in three long stripes...forehead to chin...cooling and drying
as she ran through the night...she had to find him...make the monster pay...
“Stake through the heart, cut off the head”...not scared...strong...won't hurt
if she's quiet...so quiet...hide under the bed...find the box that held the
special medicine...make you sleepy...wake you up....make you numb...he can't
hurt her anymore...not weak...not weak...strong now...powerful...power..."WILLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!"

Buffy screamed in her sleep and continued to thrash and cry as she struggled to
get away from what was happening.

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

The teacup slipped from her fingers to shatter on the cold stone floor and
splash its tepid contents across fuzzy blue slippers and the hem of her matching
terrycloth robe. The power filled her in a hot rush. Her hair lengthened
magickally, glowing a bright, silvery white. The energies swirled in her eyes,
pools of onyx obliterating the whites. A silver aura arose from every pore of
her skin as one voice cried out from the legion within her. She was being
called; the Guardian's anguish tore at her, begging, pleading, screaming to her
over the vast distance.

Already on her feet, Willow moved through the corridors of the monastery she'd
called home for nearly half a year, searching for a familiar face. She passed
several robed figures along the way, asking after the whereabouts of the master
werewolf in residence and sighing gratefully when pointed in the direction of
the surprisingly modern gymnasium. If any of the Shaolin monks thought the sight
of the Goddess in her flannel PJ's, fuzzy blue slippers and matching bathrobe
odd, they kept silent on the matter. The temple housed a great many sights that
most might consider odd. The Goddess and the Master didn't faze them in the
slightest. Neither, for that matter, did the small winged creature chasing after
the all-powerful Goddess as it rambled in sycophantic agitation.

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

While Willow sought the lone occupant of the well-equipped gym, Dawn was
hurriedly shoving her keys into the ignition of her emerald green Volkswagen
beetle. She'd always wanted a 'punch-buggy' of her very own, and her ‘baby’ was
a sorry-your-life-got-swallowed-up-in-a-freak-accident gift from good ol' Hank
Summers. She figured what the hell? If the old man wanted to shower money and
shiny new condos on Buffy and herself in lieu of actually showing up to give a
damn about either of them, then who was Dawn to argue? Besides, it got her to
and from her job as part time research assistant at one of the world's leading
institutes in demonology. The job paid extremely well, and Dawn was learning
more than Giles had ever taught her.

Out of nowhere, her head exploded in pain, her foot slamming down automatically
on the brake as she cradled her head. Breathing heavily and gritting her teeth
against the pain, Dawn allowed the power to wash over her, turning her eyes into
glowing pools of swirling green energy. The vast nothing and everything spread
out before her, her inner eye honing in on the glowing red thread of the mother
being. Buffy was calling out to Willow, and the Goddess' silvery white thread
was reaching back. Dawn was awed by purity of that color. But Willow wasn’t just
answering. The shining beacon of the Guardian's power was issuing a summons to
all those connected by a similar thread.

Goddess. Guardian. Warrior. Protector. And the Key that bound them all. Dawn
held the others together. She was the link in the center of the chain. The link
the monks had made flesh from the Guardian and the Protector.

Even now, Dawn had trouble grasping the full weight of her existence. Sometimes
the universe called to the power and the energies buried deep within the flesh
and bone vessel. When that call was strong -like it was in this moment- the Key
rose to the surface, guiding the body, while forcing Dawn the girl to be a
backseat observer. She could still think and feel and try her best to influence
the Key, but ultimately it was the Key that was in control.

Not for the first time, Dawn fully understood what Spike meant when he spoke of
his soul and his demon.

The Key had been silent for the last two weeks following the little show of
dominance against the Protector. Dawn had fought tooth and nail, remaining in
control for the most part. But Spike had felt what she was doing and used every
memory of every moment shared between himself and the Summers women in order to
help.

It was the love he felt for them all. Memories of laughter and hot chocolate
with little marshmallows. Grief at both Joyce's and Buffy's deaths. Disgust at
what he'd nearly done in crazed obsession. Joy at Buffy's tinkling laughter.
Misery at her rejection. Bliss in her arms...contentment at knowing his
sacrifice would buy his loved ones a chance to live.

Pure, undiluted happiness at being once more surrounded by their love and
acceptance.

Every last bit of those powerful emotions had been shoved through the familial
claim, forcing the Key back into its resting place.

Long moments passed unnoticed as Dawn drew in all the whirling emotions of the
others and allowed the Key to redirect them toward the one trapped within a
lunatic's fractured mind. Faith was beyond pissed, and Dawn giggled at the
colorful use of four lettered words. Was that last one even anatomically
possible? Nah. You'd have to be an invertebrate. Or triple jointed.

Calming slightly, she eased her foot off the brake and hurried towards home.

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

A shriek pierced the darkened bedroom as the nightmarish vision changed and
added one more layer to the assault. She was no longer seeing through the eyes
of the insane Slayer. Now she was being forced to bear witness to an even
greater horror as she stood on the outskirts of a major demon war. Broken sobs
became terrified screams as she watched Angel and his team torn open one by one.
Images blurred together, moving too fast before she could make any sense of the
details.

Over and over, Buffy screamed her mate's name; silently begging to anyone who
was listening to end this torment before it devoured her whole.

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

Oddly enough, the entire group managed to arrive outside the building housing
the flat Spike shared with his girls. Peripherally, he registered the green glow
in his Nibblet's eyes, the steady stream of swearing from Faith, as she'd been
dragged from what had promised to be a righteous fuck, and the fading light of
the portal from whence stepped Red with her ex mongrel and some sort of creature
perched on her shoulder. But, none of that mattered in light of the mental
anguish he could feel coming through the claim he shared with Buffy.

Then the screams started.

As if the first wave of visions -the ones which told her the story of an eight
year old child kidnapped and tortured by a human monster- hadn't been horrific
enough, the new deluge forecasting things to come threatened to shred the last
of her sanity. Screams were being torn from her throat, her body jerking and
thrashing from phantom blows.

Too much...Make it stop... The litany of images repeated on a continuous loop.
Still no one came to rescue her from the tortured screams of the dead and
dying. Everything crashed in on her, her mind overloading and shutting down.

Too far gone to notice that indeed the cavalry had arrived in the form of her
mate and the Goddess, plus the Key and Protector. The touch of his hands on her
skin shattered the last of her tentative grasp on whatever sanity she held onto,
and she fell over the edge into the void.

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

Willow was right behind Spike as they raced into the master bedroom and went
straight to the bed. Willow's heart skipped several beats, but her warning came
too late as the vampire reached for the petite blonde and pulled her into his
arms. Buffy's eyes flew wide, and the screaming stopped. Her small body became
deathly still, and Willow groaned as she saw a similar reaction in the man
holding her fellow immortal.

"Oh, Goddess," she whispered mournfully. "Not again."

tbc.....

Snapshots of Eternity
Chapter Eight: Rebirth
beta'd by Oracleholly

Los Angeles

Beeping...

As her awareness began to grow, her mind focused on that sound after being dragged back into her body. So like the sound of that primal drumbeat in that other place - the steady thumping of the ornately carved wooden staff striking the ground over and over.

Screams...

The lonely, haunting cry of a fierce creature caught within the trap of its own making completely helpless to escape the bonds. Desperate to reach its mate; snarling and snapping, unaware of the harm it did itself as it continued to rage at their captors.

Shifting...

Everything was changing; outsides were becoming insides and vice versa. Power shifting, trading, taking away and giving back. Bodies, souls, aspects and essences were all tossed into a metaphorical blender and set on HIGH. Metaphysical threads twisted and twined, were torn apart then put back together again albeit different than before. Creating something where once there had been nothing.

Beeping...

She was back to the beeping. Her memories of that OTHER place were dimming, being replaced with the memories of what she'd been before ... back before that special kiss ... when she'd still retained some shred of her innocence.

High school friends- and enemies- flitted through her mind. Random nights spent dancing at the Bronze. No cover Tuesdays. Not safe to leave her convertible- the shiny red ‘Sweet Sixteen, Love, Dad’ - parked in the nearby lot. The Bronze was the place to go. “Oh, they let anybody in.” “It's in the bad part of town...About half a block away from the good part of town.” They hadn't actually had a whole lotta town.

Gods! She'd been the ditziest bitch at Sunnydale High. Then the Slayer had come to town, forcibly shaking the scales from Cordelia's eyes and dragging the spoiled little rich girl in her Jimmy Choo shoes to see her town for what it really was. Hell on Earth. And, hell's mouth had been gaping wide in glutinous anticipation just fifteen feet beneath the floors that saw the daily pitter-patter of teenaged feet.

Cordy's world seemed to crumble down around her overnight, as she learned that the monsters under her bed were real. Making it to graduation had been a crash course in survival skills. Once the malaise that held her fellow Sunnydalians in steadfast ignorance and denial lifted, she saw the truth: not only were vampires and demons real, but they were also scary, ugly, and very, very hungry. They prowled through the night, hunting their hapless, still in denial-until-its-too-late human prey.

Too soon, the sheltering embrace of memory gave way to waking thought. The steady beep-beep increased its pace in conjunction with the groan that drifted from between slightly parted lips. Wide, almond shaped eyes the color of decadently rich chocolate fluttered open scant seconds before she heard the sounds of the rapidly approaching medics.

Then people filled her room. Some clad in various colored scrubs and a few dressed in pristine white lab coats with stethoscopes wrapped around their necks. All of them watched her every breath as it filled her lungs and was expelled. The blinking of her eyes alone held great interest for them, as they looked their fill.

Frightened, Cordelia Chase swallowed with a great deal of difficulty before uttering the first word she'd spoken in over a year.

"Angel..."

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

Spike let out a pained groan as he struggled against the heavy fog surrounding his brain, instinctively stroking a hand through the silken strands of hair fanned across his shoulder. His mate's name expelled as a harsh whisper as though he'd been screaming for days, though he couldn't remember why he would have been screaming in the first place. He swallowed against a throat which felt as though it were lined with jagged bits of glass and licked his dry, cracked lips.

The small body curled up against his side trembled violently. A quiet whimper sounded in the still air of the room before a flushed, tear-stained face lifted, and his eyes met with Dawn's red rimmed ones.

Upon seeing that he was awake, his -What should I call her? My daughter? Sister? Does she even know the truth of her own parentage? - Nibblet sobbed loudly with visible relief.

His questions were answered when her little girl lost voice whimpered her first word, "Daddy?" And he felt his heart swell with so much pride and love that he thought it might very well burst from his chest.

But, something was wrong. Even though his demon clamored for a chance to reclaim this precious gift from the Powers That Be, he wanted … no, he needed his mate. Thus, Spike stretched out all of his senses, taking in the broken bedroom window. Narrowed to mere slits, the amber eyes of his demon zeroed in on the faint traces of blood on jagged glass.

Gently nudging Dawn from his chest, sparing a brief glance at his Bit's saddened face, Spike stood from the bed and moved to the window. Buffy was out there, somewhere, and he'd be dust once more and damned a hundred times over if he allowed anything to stand in the way of his finding her.

Spike took the same route as his diminutive mate, lithely dropping three stories to land with a predator's grace, black leather duster fluttering in the breeze. Allowing his demon to take control, he lifted his face and scented the air. Animalistic glee filled him as he easily picked up the scent Buffy had left specifically for him, whether she realized it or not.

Little bitch of mine wants to play games...Forgot who she's dealing with...'M not Peaches. The image her scent conjured up, sent blood surging to his loins. He groaned as lust flooded his system, making his demon howl in expectation of the chase. Let's go find our mate and teach the stubborn chit a lesson. Think the bint needs reminding who she bloody well belongs to...

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

It had been oh, so very long since she'd wanted anything but death. That sweet, blessed release from all the pain and the fighting. For what seemed an eternity death hadn't been just snapping at her heels, it'd been carving out pieces of her soul and leaving gaping wounds where it crawled inside with the intimacy of a long time lover. Curling within her deepest places and nesting there in wait for the moment she allowed it to take her fully.

Now she was death. She was death and life, so thoroughly enmeshed in one another that even she could no longer discern where one ended and the other began. Tonight, none of that mattered. Tonight, she was free for the first time in as long as she could remember.

The only thing that mattered to her was the sum of three little words.

Want. Take. Have.

Want... She'd seen it in the window of a specialty shop as she'd prowled through the streets. Shiny leather the color of freshly spilled blood. Ruby red exuberance tightly sheathing sleek, powerful muscles. It would ride low on her hips, the cold metal pressing deliciously against her aching clit; rubbing in just the right way with her every step.

Take... It had been nothing at all for her to deliver a powerful sidekick to the large glass standing between Buffy and the display case greedily coveting the thing she desired. Too fast for the very human sales clerk to react, the petite Guardian snatched her prize from its resting place. In a flash, she'd obtained the matching leather tank top and the black, heavy soled boots matching the laces of the top. An instant later, she'd already vanished back into the night.

She stopped slipping through the shadows to don her newly acquired armor when she spied a thick copse of trees. Glancing down at the grungy looking pajamas she'd forgotten were still covering her body, Buffy growled in irritation and tore the navy silk pants and blouse. She could always buy more where those had come from, anyway.

Buffy sighed with obvious pleasure as she all but slithered into the second skin. A grin split her face, showcasing a double set of both upper and lower fangs to match the flickering green/gold blaze in her eyes and the tiny little ridges above her brow.

Hearing a noise nearby, Buffy froze and attuned her senses in order to locate the source. When no further sounds other than the night followed, she relaxed and turned back the way she came.

She'd taken but a single step when something large and heavy tackled her from behind and drove her back to the ground. She screamed as lethal canines plunged deep into her neck, savagely tearing at the flesh and furiously sucking down her potent blood.

Everybody knew the blood of a Slayer was an aphrodisiac.

What about the blood of a Guardian?

Everything went black.

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

Over the weeks since his arrival in Rome, Spike had found that among the many establishments owned by the ancient city's Master Vampire, were several demon-only hotels. One such hotel was located near Night Haven and provided a discreet service for the discriminating vampire. It was like the bloody W for the undead, except instead of a mint on the pillow, rooms came with virgin blood in the dishonor bar and a trunk full of 'Toys' at the foot of their lavish beds.

After checking into the Black Rose Inn with an unconscious, leather clad female draped over his shoulder and being shown to their suite, Spike knew he needed to phone up Red and the Nib so as not to worry them overmuch in regards to his and the Slayer's whereabouts.

He kept the call very brief and carried a hint of warning that those who could feel the inner workings of both Buffy's and his own minds, do what they must to allow the couple their privacy until their return. The last thing he needed was for their daughter to be a captive audience for whatever happened upon Buffy's return to consciousness. Red wasn't much of a concern for him, Spike reasoned. Aside from being a powerful witch, the redhead had learned when and when not to take a peek into someone else's brain. She no longer abused her power.

Of course, the fact that Spike just didn't give a tinker's damn whether or not the witch caught a mindful went a long way to aiding his comfort level.

Once he finished the phone call, Spike dropped the cell phone onto the nightstand and moved to the chest at the foot of the bed. Some of the contents he found within brought back interesting memories -some good, others...well, not so much- and he shoved them all aside as he rifled through the neatly arranged implements until he found what he was searching for.

The heavy chains clanked loudly as he pulled them free from the wooden box, and he returned to his unconscious mate, slipping the manacles around each wrist and securing it to a metal ring attached to the wall above the bed. He had a vague sense of the changes that had occurred within her body as a result of the ritual, but Spike would be a fool if he didn't take necessary precautions just in case the new and improved Buffy Summers was drastically altered in a.... Not going to think that way, mate. Just secure the bloody chains and wait for the girl to wake up.

Once he assured himself that the slender blonde would be unable to escape her bonds, Spike pulled a chair to the bedside and settled himself in to wait.

When had it all started? That was the question he'd asked himself thousands of times over the last couple of years. What had been the moment in which William the Bloody, self-proclaimed Slayer of Slayers had become so irrevocably obsessed with the woman-child he'd been so determined to kill once upon a hellmouth?

You bloody well know exactly when, you git; said the voice of his demon, while his inner William sputtered at the way Spike's eyes drank in the way the shiny leather molded to her succulent thighs. His mouth watered and his borrowed blood went straight to the burgeoning erection behind the cold metal zipper of his jeans.

Back, you beast! William shrieked at the demon. Spike had the sudden image of his human self dressed head to foot in tweed, unruly mousy brown curls flopping everywhere as he wielded a whip and chair at the demon, like some lion tamer. You shall not molest our girl whilst she is unaware!

Said whip cracked through the air with an audible snap, and the demon snarled through a mouthful of fangs.

Spike groaned aloud, scrubbing a hand over his face even as he noted that the mental exchange between his soul and his demon had somewhat distracted him from the very delectable sight of his mate chained to the bed. In the place of his lustful perusal of leather and warm, golden skin, his earlier question returned.

This is not the time for self-delusion, my friend, William informed him in a calm tone. The image of William now seated in the chair, which he'd previously used in order to fend off the lecherous demon. Apparently, William had exchanged the whip for a writing tablet and pen.

You are well aware of that defining moment. Even he is aware. William nodded to his side where a game-faced Spike grinned lasciviously around his elongated canines.

To prove his point, William waved a hand in the air and the memory arose to the forefront of his mind.

***FLASHBACK***

Fall, 1998

He hadn't been given much information to go on. Small. Blonde. Lethal. Spends a great deal of time at the local dance club.

Small and blonde, check. Covered the majority of female flesh currently flinging about in the noise which passed for music in this joint. He could feel her out there, in the dim light and the mass of humans with their heartbeats thundering against his senses. They were clueless that death came dressed in black denims and long, black leather duster. The women who'd noticed him, and a few of the men as well, wore a different sort of hunger on their faces than the one he would satis-…

Hold on a tick...

He saw her then, moving away from a table on which her scattered school things lay forgotten. Instead, she took to the dance floor with another female and an awkward male whose chaotic jerks and twists would have been comical, had Spike bothered to notice.

But, Spike noticed nothing. Saw nothing other than HER. Golden hair, golden skin, glittering eyes filled with a hunger for life.

***END FLASHBACK***

That was the moment in which he'd been lost. Spike knew that now with more certainty than he knew of any other truth. There, dancing with her friends in an overcrowded dance club, the sixteen year old Buffy Anne Summers dug herself straight into the very core of her would-be murderer's being.

Spike’s thoughts were violently interrupted by the very loud screech of metal, a fraction of an instant before he found his lap filled with warm flesh and the sharp pain of fangs slicing into his neck.

A/N: For those of you who are unfamiliar with the name W, it's a chain of five star hotels owned by Starwood Resorts and Hotels Worldwide.

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to all you perpetrators of the EVIL CLIFFHANGER. **smirk**

Snapshots of Eternity

Chapter Nine: Revelations in the Night
beta'd by Oracleholly

It happened fast. One moment Spike had been lost in his own thoughts, using memories of a night, which had occurred a lifetime ago to divert himself from the luscious, leather wrapped package sprawled and chained to the bed before him. Then, there was the screech of metal as the manacles were torn asunder. She'd pounced on him in a flash of gold, black and red.

The sharp pain of fangs - Buffy had fangs! - brutally sliced through his skin. The feeling of both her fangs and her lips latching onto the wound was nothing compared to the tidal wave of knowledge which crashed into and over him.

Whatever mystical barrier that had once been erected to hide the details of the ritual he and his mate had recently undergone came tumbling down with the first pull of blood that passed her pouty, bee stung lips and pooled in the moist cavern of her mouth. Yet, he couldn't explain it why, but he knew everything she knew and felt what she felt, even as her throat constricted swallowing her first mouthful of vampiric blood making room for her next compulsive gulp.

Memories....

He remembered his last thought as Buffy left him chained to that cavern wall taking her appointed place for the ritual. He'd known, instinctively, that whatever was going to happen was bad enough that the soddin' Powers That Fucked With You had deemed it necessary for Spike to be bound and helpless to go to his mate's aid.

Helpless....

He'd been helpless to do anything but watch as chains sprouted from the cavern floor and attached themselves to her wrists and ankles, entrapping her where she stood and binding the Guardian to the earth. Pieces of knowledge had tugged at his awareness. A vague recollection filtered through the intent focus Spike placed on his golden girl and the resigned look in her eyes. That look spoke volumes. She knew what was to come and her own stormy jade gaze switched between the vampire and the three beings whom had been, in Tara and Anya's cases, close friends while Cordelia had been alternately a pain in the Slayer's ass, friend and comrade in the fight against the forces of darkness.

Tara's whisper soft voice had cut through the heavy silence of the cavern, asking if Buffy were ready to begin. Buffy had replied with a careful nod of her blonde head. Spike had tried to interrupt, his rising fear for what was to come in the next small eternity temporarily overriding his resolve that these beings perform whatever ritual they needed in order to cure his love of her current state. His mouth opened, but he found himself unable to make a sound. The former Wiccan shot an apologetic look his way, her luminous blue eyes conveying the sincerity behind the apology.

Her look had lasted only a mere fraction of a human heartbeat before the gentle spirit's attention returned to the young woman bound in chains. A large staff appeared in her hands, ornately carved in dark, gleaming wood and adorned with ancient markings that Spike assumed to be charms or wards. Perhaps the markings were in a language dating back to a time when the earth was still young and overrun by those creatures for which the Slayer had originally been created.

As one, Tara, Anya and Cordelia--the latter two having taken up staffs matching the one in Tara's hands-- began a rhythmic thumping against the dirt floor. Their voices mingled into a beautiful cadence of words in a language Spike had never heard.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then everything happened at once. Pain ripped through Spike's entire being, something like a black mist seeping from his pores and coalescing into a solid shadow before him. A howling wind filled the packed dirt room and sent icy fingers of panic skittering over the vampire's flesh. He could practically hear the outrage of his demon as it tried to tear itself from its flesh and bone prison and go to its mate. The scent of his own blood alerted Spike to the extent of his struggle to escape the chains. He could feel the thick viscous fluid sliding down his arms from the torn skin of his wrists. Didn't matter how badly damaged his own body became as long as he could stop her pain.

Screams were spilling from her throat as Buffy fell to her hands and knees on the cold dirt. She'd known what would happen. Tara had explained it all to her as they'd made their trek here. The last time she'd been offered this gift, she'd vehemently rejected it. She had not jumped through the portal in search of answers just to get knocked up by some random demon essence. Instead, she'd fought against it with everything in her.

Now was a different story. The dark men were nowhere to be found. She was surrounded by love, in this moment, by the aspects of womanhood. Serenity, beauty, courage and strength. The heavy, rhythmic pounding of each staff as it struck the ground kept pace with the steady pumping of her heart as it pushed powerful blood through her veins. The very same rhythmic pounding gave her a focal point and allowed her to block some of the pain as a piece of her soul was ripped from her body and replaced with a coinciding piece of Spike's demon. They were already mated and shared a daughter despite those lies the monks had used to hide that bit of knowledge. Sharing essences was really the logical next step.

Would she become a vampire? No. At least not in the same way Spike was a vampire. This was different. She would be different, because she was already immortal. The Slayer demon, while closely tied to that which had set up shop in her mate's dead, soulless body, was able to reside within a living host. The advantage it held over its counterpart was its ability to move about during the day for brief periods of time. It also allowed for the majority of the human soul to remain within, to co-exist rather than force out those last traces of humanity. Her heart would still beat and she would still be Buffy, though the upgrade would go a long way to healing that part of herself which had been broken after the fall of Sunnydale and her defeat against the First Evil.

The image of her new incarnation arose in the forefront of her mind as Buffy felt her canines extend and the corresponding teeth on her lower jaw elongated into a smaller, though no less lethal, set of fangs. She would need to ingest blood, Spike's, whenever the lust for it demanded to be fed. Thankfully, due to the dormant Slayer demon buried deep within, the bit of Spike's demon would only awaken the primitive creature. There would be no feeding from those she'd always been bound by sacred duty to protect.

Tara had warned her that she might have some difficulty controlling herself, her hungers and desires, in the beginning. The ghostly guide urged her to remain close to her mate-- and now Sire, for lack of a better explanation-- as much as possible until she did learn to co-exist with the newly formed and awakened demon side of herself. The connection would need to be tended in much the same way as the mating claim, through blood and mysticism.

Blood...

The first mouthful of blood, darkly rich, powerful, and better than anything she'd ever tasted in her life, slid down her throat causing her to moan against her vampire's tantalizing skin. Even to her ears, the sound was closer to an actual purr than anything human.

An answering rumble vibrated from the hard, powerful body beneath her, the vibration sending bolts of electricity straight to her core. She tore her fangs from the incredible elixir freely flowing from the open wound she'd created, swiping her tongue across the jagged tear before sitting up and flinging her hair out of her face. Her eyes met the burning amber of her mate's gaze, the naked lust held in them dragging a low moan from her as she ground herself against the hardness pressed against her.

Moisture flooded the material of her lacy thong. The scent of her own arousal filled the air, rivaling the answering scent of her mate's. The low growl that rumbled past his lips, the flare of his nostrils, the bruising grip of his clawed hands as he held her tightly and thrust against her, had Buffy dancing on that knife's edge of nearly crippling need.

Her newly acquired demon had one, single-minded goal.

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

Dawn knew what was happening. The Key was almost giddy, as it, she, whatever, kept up a running commentary on what her parents were doing. So don't need the images, thanks all the same.

"Focus, Dawn," Willow's voice was sharp as it crackled in the air between them. Oz, under Willow's strict orders, had enclosed the three females within a circle of sacred sand. Faith didn't seem the slightest disturbed by whatever feelings she was getting through her connection to Buffy. If Willow was affected, the Goddess didn't let on.

That just left Dawn open to the full brunt of thoughts and emotions she could feel through the connection to her parents. When Buffy had awakened from wherever she and Spike had disappeared during their little mystical coma, the Guardian had given Dawn a fierce hug, whispered a few words of comfort-- words that had sounded so much like goodbye-- and took a running leap through the plate-glass window. Whatever force that linked the Key, the vampire and the Guardian had been completely sealed during their coma. The strain of the lost connection had finally worn away the last of her control and Dawn had curled against the still comatose vampire, heaving sobs wracking her petite frame.

The moment Spike had regained consciousness, the links re-opened and all the details of the ritual came flooding back in a torrent of images and feelings. Then even Spike had bolted leaving his distraught daughter lying in a weeping huddle on the bed where Willow found her just moments later.

It was in that moment which Willow realized the full extent of Dawn's lack of control. The girl was being slowly taken over by the entity of the Key, unwittingly feeding it more and more power through her tentative attempts with spell casting and her loss of emotional control. Determination flooded her system as Willow resolved to remain with Dawn for as long as it took for the younger woman to learn control over herself.

With Faith's help, they cleared a place in the middle of the living room floor for the three girls to sit facing each other and practice a few meditation techniques.

Then, Spike had called with his news that he'd found Buffy and that he would bring the blonde back soon.

The moment she'd disconnected from the call, Willow had already began instructing Oz on how to set up the spell ingredients which would create a wall of silence around the women. Once activated, the spell would block out any and all outside elements from reaching those on the inside.

The last of the sand was poured and a sound very much like that of a bug zapper zinged throughout the apartment.

All was silent within the well.

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

It was hard to say how they'd ended up in this position. Her hands were braced against the wall, with a fully aroused vampire pressed along her back, a set of razor sharp fangs embedded within her throat.

Some distant voice within her railed against the complete, blatant show of dominance on his part while she was being held immobilized in a submissive stance. She couldn't move. Why couldn't she move? She always moved during sex. A lot.

Oh, but this works, too, the traitorous voice in her head whimpered. The sound of it was quite audible, as one of the hands splayed across her belly slipped to the fastenings that held the leather pants together. She felt the minute tug as he clasped the zipper and slid it down, a fresh flood of juices further soaking her already sodden undergarments and another mewl escaped her parted lips.

Spike's hand snaked inside the loosened trousers. His deft fingers slid beneath the pitiful excuse for knickers, which provided the last bit of barrier separating him from the only heaven he'd likely ever know. His eyes rolled back slightly, and he released the grip he had on her neck when his fingers at last obtained their goal in the hot, moist folds of her sex. He gave the bite mark a quick lick and trailed his tongue to her ear.

"So wet for me, kitten...hot and wet...smell divine," he babbled in her ear. His fingers nimbly found the engorged bundle of nerves and he gave it a sharp pinch, grinning when she groaned and her knees weakened.

"Spike," his girl moaned as her head fell back against his chest. He held her tighter to his front, warring with his demon over the desire to just tear away her clothes and blindly thrust within her heated depths and his inner William's want to give his mate a proper seeing to.

The next words out of her mouth decided it for him.

******************************************************************
tbc

Oh, don't worry, gang. Chapter 10 is almost complete and I should have it to you soon.

A/N: And without furthur ado, I give you THE SMUT... Lemme know how I did. :-P

Snapshots of Eternity

Chapter 10: Until Time Stops
Beta'd by the beta-shaped Goddess, Oracleholly

“Tell me you love me.”

“I love you.”

“Tell me you want me.”

“Until time stops, the world ends and eternity fades to nothing,” he rasped in the ear he'd been nuzzling. Ever the poet, he thought with no little amusement.

Then he couldn't think much of anything beyond the utterly primal need to mate with this beautiful creature in his arms. She had turned within the circle of his arms, her eyes glazed with passion and need. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and he groaned at the sight, wanting to pull that delightfully talented appendage into his mouth and feel it wrap around his own.

Spike noticed there was a look in her eyes that went beyond the mere physical delights her body craved. A yearning, a need for something he couldn't quite put a name to…oh…. A slow, sexy grin he knew had always gotten her right in the knickers slid across his sharply chiseled features.

“Tell me you love me,” he demanded in a low, sensual tone. Excitement made her eyes sparkle and she laughed softly, intimately as she began to walk him backwards towards the bed.

“I love you,” she punctuated her statement with a lingering kiss to that wide, sensual mouth she loved so much. The backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress and she pressed him to sit.

“Tell me you want me,” the smile on his face had gone from playful to awestruck in the blink of an eye. There was another emotion in his eyes that hurt Buffy's heart to realize. After everything that they had been through; after every way she had tried to show him since he'd miraculously reappeared in her life, there still remained some tiny bit of lingering doubt that she would turn him away.

How could she not love him? He'd been a part of her for so long now that she couldn't remember her life before he'd shown up in that alley behind the Bronze. They shared a daughter- how weird was that? Sure, she knew the monks had made Dawn from her. Still…and the spell…and with the fake memories- Spike had given her Dawn. How could Buffy not love him?

As for wanting?

Buffy realized she had been quiet for several moments, just losing herself in her thoughts and the drowning azure pools steadily gazing back at her. She smiled, so much emotion making her chest tight. Moisture gathered in her eyes and she wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, her other hand softly cupping his cheek. When she smiled again, it was a bright, beautiful smile filled with everything she had inside her heart and soul.

Tell me you want me.

How could I not?

“Until time stops, the world ends and eternity fades to nothing.”

Spike was speechless. All the flowery words of William vanished as the admission left her sweet lips and found their way into his ears. The truth he'd always wanted to hear from her and the adoring gaze coupled with the wondrous smile told him everything he needed to know.
This was his Buffy. His Slayer. This wasn't the sixteen year old girl in love with his brooding, soulful grandsire. Nor was she the broken woman dragged from Heaven by her well-meaning friends. And most certainly she no longer was the heartbroken, soul-sick creature he'd encountered a small handful of weeks ago.

This was the Buffy he'd held in his arms those final days in the Hellmouth. The golden goddess who'd declared him her Champion and entrusted him with the lives of everyone she held dear. This was his mate.

Tears filled his own eyes as he drank in the sheer beauty before him, and Spike pressed his face to the strip of bare flesh between the leather trousers she still wore and the barely-there top. He just wanted to curl up in her arms and stay there forever.

Buffy, however, had other ideas. She felt like she hadn't really been with him since before the fall of Sunnydale. In a lot of ways, she hadn't; too broken after everything that had happened since that day her world had exploded and left her more fully devastated than the debris filled crater that had once been her home. Happiness bloomed in her chest, her heart soaring with hope that she now had eternity to spend in the arms of her perfect mate.

“Not enough,” she whispered so softly that his vampiric hearing barely heard it.

“What's that, kitten,” he asked her, and she felt her stomach flip at the sensual glide of his fingers caressing the warm skin of her lower back.

She looked down into that beautiful face of her love. “Eternity still isn't long enough for me to show you how much I love you.”

The resulting look of stunned surprise was almost comical, as his eyes grew so wide they looked in danger of falling out of his face, his mouth gaping and the rest of his body going statue still as he looked up at her.

“What is it?”

Slowly, the sweetest smile curved his lips. “'S the first time you've said that to me since that day in the hell mouth. And don't say you said it before when we were--oomph,”

Suddenly, Spike found himself with a lapful of mate as she flung herself into his arms and fastened her mouth to his, greedily feasting as though she were starving and he was the first meal she'd seen in days.

The kiss seemed to last forever, their tongues sliding and wrapping around each other as each battled for dominance over the other. When they at last broke to give Buffy a moment to breathe, she attacked the sensitive flesh of his throat; her fangs dropping as she lightly grazed them over her previous marks. The urge to mark him again nearly overwhelming her and she growled softly. His answering growl accompanied his hands, gripping her hips with enough strength to leave bruises. His hips ground into her leather covered sex, and she mewled and writhed against him.

“Off,” she demanded, gripping the hem of his tee shirt and tugging, frantic to get at the bare skin beneath. He lifted his arms dutifully and allowed her to rip the offending material over his head and cast it aside even as his nimble fingers deftly worked the laces holding her top together.

The shiny, constrictive garment was gone an instant later and cool lips latched themselves onto a pert nipple while a hand palmed her other breast. Buffy threw her head back with a hiss of pleasure, holding on as tightly as she could while sensations sparked through her petite frame.

Tension coiled low in her belly, molten heat flowing through her veins.

Without warning, she shoved Spike to his back atop the expensive bedspread, hands grasping at the rough denim jeans and jerking until she had them down his legs, then tossed them to the rapidly growing pile on the floor. She hesitated only a moment to take in the mouth-watering sight of pale flesh that could give any Greek statuary a serious case of envy.

Oh,…oh, gods…Naked Spike…MINE! the voice in her head chanted and Buffy licked her suddenly dry lips as she settled a knee on the foot of the bed and crawled upwards to cover the sinfully beautiful body with her own, stopping to drop hungry nips and kisses along the way.

A low hiss colored the air as she lingered over the smooth expanse of flesh covering Spike's lower abdominal muscle. She knew for a fact that it drove him crazy when she nibbled on the velvety skin surrounding his navel. If the hard column of muscle nudging the underside of her chin were any indication, it still drove him wild.

Cheeky bint, Spike thought as the love of his unlife tossed a wink his way and opened those luscious lips to wrap around the head of his aching cock.

He groaned as it disappeared inch by inch into the moist, blazing inferno of her mouth. His hands clenched in the coverlet and he tore his eyes from the sight of her head bobbing up and down. All it would take would be her eyes on his while that sweet mouth worked him and her soft hand cupped and kneaded his….

Bloody fucking…

Hotter than hell and needing some form of release, Buffy slid her free hand down her taut belly and beneath her unfastened pants. Her small fingers found her clit and skimmed light circles over it as she slid her lips all the way to the base of her lover's turgid member. Relaxing her throat, she swallowed around the belled head and hummed as he growled at her. The urge to giggle at him was repressed, but only just.

Instead, her eyes climbed up his torso to meet desire darkened eyes almost fully swallowed by the pupils. Another growl echoed through the suite and his hands reached down to jerk her up and away from the center of her teasing attentions.

“No more fun an' games, luv,” he ground out from between tightly clenched teeth.

Spike rolled her beneath him and quickly divested her of the last remaining barriers separating their bodies. “Need inside you, kitten. 'll give you a proper seein' to next time,” he promised in a strained whisper as he settled himself between her spread thighs and joined them together in one sharp thrust.

Dual groans filled the air as he stilled momentarily within her body. Toned, golden limbs wrapped themselves around him, hidden muscles clenching and unclenching in an effort to urge him on. His smoldering gaze swept over her, eyebrow arching as he saw raw desire and need meeting him in her hazel gaze. Tiny nails scraped along the coiled muscles in his back until they dug into the firm globes of his ass.
That was all it took before Spike was pounding viciously into her body. Her head arched backwards onto the pillow, mouth open wide as delicious moans and grunts spilled from her lips. She babbled senselessly as he circled his hips to grind his pubic bone into her engorged clit. Every thrust was hitting her in just the right way, pushing her higher and higher as her inner muscles squeezed and massaged him for all she was worth.

He wasn't going to last and he knew it. But he wasn't going over that ledge alone. Instead, he snaked a hand down between them, grasping the tiny bundle of nerves and giving it a sharp twist as he plunged his fangs into the marks he'd left just a little while ago. A shriek rose on the sultry air, and her own fangs found his throat in return. Orgasm slammed through them both as they swallowed mouthfuls of blood. Bodies shuddered and pulsed, and they pulled free by mutual consent to howl their release with dual cries of, “Mine!”

A moment passed, and, both panting and shaking, softer voices echoed, “Yours.”

Buffy smiled a tearful smile up at the man who owned her heart, body and soul, pressing her sweat dampened forehead to his and whispered, “Until time stops, the world ends and eternity fades to nothing.”

A/N: Sorry this chapter so short, but I felt it deserved its very own space.

A/N: Manipulated dialogue shamelessly stolen from AtS S5 episode “You’re Welcome”.

A gentle reminder, this story was designed to be non-canon and, while I do touch on canon elements throughout, I am not writing this to follow the progression of any themes used by Joss and his wonderful team of talented writers.

As always, I own nothing. It’s all the property of someone else kind enough to let me play. Now, on with the ficcy goodness. :-P

Snapshots of Eternity

Chapter Eleven:

Spin You to Thy Rest

Cordelia had been awake for three days. At first, she'd been exhausted- which was an odd sensation considering she'd been asleep for the past eight months. The exhaustion and disorientation had lasted only as long as it had taken Angel and Wesley to arrive from wherever they had been when the medical staff had alerted them of Cordelia's return to land of ‘the not in a coma.’

Like an avenging...well, angel, Angel had swept into the room, a good brood on his face. His eyes were cold and flat towards the senior medical staff, sending doctors, nurses and orderlies, alike, scurrying off to an elsewhere not inside her semi-private room.   Then, just Angel, Wesley and herself remained. Cordy's deep, wide set eyes welled with the tears of relief that the vampire and the former Watcher turned rogue demon hunter had come for her. After the hell of the previous year - after the supernatural entity within Cordelia's body had torn apart all their lives - Angel and Wesley had still come for her.

It all came back to her in a rush—the guilt and the horror that she'd been unable to prevent the other from shoving all that was Cordelia Chase into some dark hole inside as it brought forth the Beast. Images of the pain she'd caused as ‘she’ played on the confused affections of the man-child she'd looked upon as a surrogate son...

No! Not me! That thing was controlling my body! I didn't...would never...

Great wracking sobs tore from deep down in her soul and Cordelia whimpered, burying her face in her hands so the men didn't see. Strong arms wrapped around her, and she jerked away from the comforting embrace. Or tried to, at least. They just held on tighter; Angel to her left, Wesley to her right, different as night and day, yet similar in their desire to ease her suffering as well as to celebrate the return of one whom they'd both thought was lost to them.

Neither man spoke as they held the third part of their triad—She’d been the heart and soul of what once had been Angel Investigations after Doyle had sacrificed himself to save the countless lives of beings whose only crimes had consisted of the fact that they were demon halflings. Until Gunn had come along, it had just been the three of them. A vampire cursed with a soul, a former Watcher ostracized by the Council to which he’d devoted his life in service, and a former Scooby, who’d left behind the Hellmouth once her family had lost all its wealth and possessions.   Well, not so much lost, as the IRS had come and taken it all away in lieu of the taxes Daddy had never bothered to pay. Ever.

Then Gunn had reluctantly found himself as part of the group after the numerous times his gang of streetwise of demon hunters had crossed paths with Angel Investigations. Both leaders finding a common goal in their mission – saving the helpless from those creatures that went fangy and homicidal in the night. The young, tough black man had lost his entire family to vampires, his baby sister having been turned and subsequently staked by Gunn’s own hand.

This moment, however, wasn’t about Gunn. Or Lorne, the Pylean empath demon, whose world had imprisoned the sweet, introverted Texan, Fred, until Angel had rescued her on the way to rescuing Cordelia when she’d ended up in the alternate dimension.

This moment was about the three present-- Vampire, Watcher and Seer. All connected by memories of life as a white hat fighting evil atop a hellmouth. They were now linked in another way. Each had caused pain for the others in the years since forming Angel Investigations. Each had committed crimes against each other that would haunt them as they sought atonement for past sins.

Although her tears had stopped, they still sat on the narrow hospital bed and clung to each other. Cordy sighed from between slightly trembling lips and she closed her eyes. She reveled in the cool touch of Angel’s soft, firm lips pressed to her temple, while Wesley’s warm cheek rested in the crook of her neck.

The storm of emotions passed at last, and Cordy wriggled in attempt to get the men to move. “Guys, uh…not that I’m not glad to see you, cuz, I’m all with the so glad I’m not Coma Cordy anymore, but…Think we can get out of here? Think I’ve had more than enough of hospitals to last me the next forever.”

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


Three days had passed since Cordelia had found herself once more a part of the waking world and she found herself wishing, at the oddest moments, that she were back in that other place. The place between the worlds where light met shadow, land of the eternal gray area.

Being back was painful. There was so much pain in the world. Death and disease; thousands of atrocities humans visited upon each other. Add to that the forces of evil, monsters of every ilk ready to tear flesh from bone and consume the souls of the innocent.

Dread had settled like a lead weight in the pit of her stomach. More and more memories were coming back to her, and Cordy felt the weight of knowledge pressing down on her soul. The burden of truth was a terrible thing as the Seer settled herself on the side of Angel’s bed opening a cardboard box filled with her personal effects Angel had saved.

A sad little smile curved her lips as she pulled her high school yearbook, still slightly charred around the edges. Sunnydale was gone now, with no sign that it had ever existed. Well, that wasn’t quite true. Now, there was nothing but a big dirt-filled crater where once there had been a town. One dark eyebrow arched slightly as the old saying ‘you can never go home again’ teased through her mind.

Discarding the yearbook without opening it, Cordy continued to rifle through the box’s contents. Photo albums and framed pictures, knick-knacks and little mementos of her time since moving to Los Angeles and taking up with Angel and his mission.

Tears filled her eyes as she came across a framed sketch she’d done after the very first vision she’d been given by the Powers That Be. Angel had framed the ugly little picture of the “gray blob-y thing” as a reminder that a piece of Doyle would remain with them always. The tears spilled over and tracked down her cheeks, unchecked by a woman whose mind now focused inward upon the memory of the Irish human/Brachen demon hybrid.

Sure, Doyle had drunk too much, gambled with money he didn’t have, and had worse fashion sense than a sixteen-year-old Xander Harris. But, that was Doyle. Despite all his faults, a very large part of Cordy had fallen in love with him. Despite the impenetrable walls she had built around her heart after the numerous times it had been broken, it was Doyle who’d wormed his way inside and refused to do the gentlemanly thing and leave.

More memories of the last five years brought with them the nearly overwhelming weight of knowledge gained, be it through experiences or what she acquired as she’d existed on that higher plane. Her tenure as a higher being had gifted her with the ability to see the big picture. And, oh boy, had she seen enough to know that she’d rather be ignorant. Past, present and future. She knew what was to come, though she also knew that the geas upon her wouldn’t allow her to actually communicate that knowledge. It was hers and hers alone. Curse and gift, both at the same time.

Shaking herself from her reveries, Cordy gently placed the framed sketch on the bed beside her and reached for another item within the box. “I know you’re there. I can feel you,” her voice rang out strong and true in the semi-darkness of Angel’s bedroom. “Might as well show yourself.”

With a wave of one slender hand, a ray of white light spread across the walls with a whisper of sound. That particular power had come as part of her demon package was one of the few things she was grateful for in the wackiness that was Cordelia Chase. A soft popping sound signified that the room was secure and cloaked from detection by the Senior Partners.

The figure lurking just outside the bedroom door entered, head down, footsteps silent on the plush carpeting. Cordy lay the video cassette in her lap and studied the intruder, gaze looking past the façade of strength and courage to see the fear so well hidden from the rest of the world.

“Must be exhausting,” the Seer’s voice was filled with compassion, and blue eyes snapped up sharply. “Playing all sides. Going against the natural order. You’ve no idea what you’ve done, no inkling of the events you’ve set in motion.”

Anger furrowed the smooth brow on the child before her, though not a word passed from the tightly closed mouth. Cordy waited a moment to see if her visitor would speak, her dark eyebrows rose when she was answered with silence.

“What?” she asked when the silence continued, “Nothing to say? Not like there is anything to say. What’s done is done, and there’s no way you can take it back.”

Again there was silence.

Cordy sighed as she felt a bit of maternal instinct rise within herself. “Does he know who you are, or why you’re really here? Do any of them know?”

A shake of the head, and the older woman was ready to scream in frustration at the stubborn silence she received as answers to her question. A brief glance at the tape in her lap and she had an idea. Rising, the brunette crossed to the entertainment system situated against one of the walls. “I want to show you something.”

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

It was a couple hours, and way too much thinking than was healthy for her, later when Cordelia heard the ding signifying the arrival of the elevator. She was still seated on the edge of Angel’s bed, her visitor long gone and the video still playing. Her heart ached with a bittersweet longing to return to the early days of Angel Investigations when things had been somewhat normal despite the very lack of normality which encompassed all their lives.

She remembered the day this video had been made, and smiled a little as the ensouled vampire wandered into the bedroom. She spared him with a brief glance as she continued to watch Doyle onscreen, bright blue eyes filled with determination as the crystalline orbs surreptitiously flicked from the camera to the off-screen cue cards she’d written for him. Bad acting and discomfiture at being in front of the all-seeing lens making the half-demon’s shoulders hunch a bit and his hands fiddle with some object or another in the pockets of his wrinkled, ill-fitting pants.

“…so when the chips are down, and at the end of your rope, you need someone you can count on. That’s what you’ll find here. Someone who’ll go all the way. Someone who’ll protect you no matter what. So don’t lose hope.”

Pausing the tape, Cordy returned her gaze to the large figure standing in the doorway, inwardly delighted to find his dark eyes on the screen. “First soldier down,” she announced unnecessarily. She’d been preparing for this conversation since the moment she’d learned of Angel’s new position as CEO of Wolfam & Hart, evil Attorneys at Law.

And who the hell in their right mind would hire Harmony as their personal assistant? Nevermind that she’s as vapid as they come, she’s a freaking soulless vampire!

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

The dark haired vampire had become very still beneath the intense scrutiny of the woman seated upon the edge of his bed. How many times had he dreamed of just one more minute with Cordelia's eyes focused on him? How many months, years, had he wanted to see her smiling and know that it was all for him? The months she'd spent on the higher plane had left a gaping hole in his life, and an even larger emptiness within his soul.

Once she'd been returned to him, her body had unknowingly been infested with the entity that would become Jasmine once it had used Angel's own son to conceive a flesh and blood vessel for it to inhabit.

She was speaking, and Angel forced away thoughts of the past as he stepped further into the room.

"Sorry," she murmured and fidgeted with the remote in her hand before dropping it onto the bed beside her. "I found this and-"

"No. It's okay," he assured her as he seated himself beside her. "You couldn't sleep?"

An unladylike snort was her answer. "God, no. I've slept enough to last me a lifetime."

Angel nodded his understanding. Turned so that he wasn't facing her or the screen but could see the reflection of both in the large windows overlooking the busy lights of Los Angeles. "It's been a long while since I've seen this," he admitted.

"Doyle pissed me off so righteously going out like that." Cordelia whispered softly. She glanced at Angel's back, knowing that she'd found the right method by which to broach this conversation. "But, he knew. He knew what he had to do and didn't compromise. He used his last breath to make sure you would keep fighting. I get that now." Do I ever...

Angel sighed, "Cordy...".

A moment passed while he struggled with what to say that would make her understand.

"There were reasons I agreed to take over Wolfram & Hart. Reasons you don't understand."

Apparently, that was the absolute wrong thing to say as the woman he loved launched herself up from the bed and paced across the room angrily before turning her furious gaze on him. Warning bells sounded in his head despite his demon's primal assessment that she'd never looked more gorgeous. God, help him, the man in him agreed as he tried in vain to force the lusty thoughts from taking over.

Then Catherine Cordelia Chase opened up that spectacular mouth and dumped a proverbial barrel of ice water over his head.

A/N: For Cordykitten & Nia. Thank you for the wonderful support and for your kind words.

Some dialog taken from AtS S5 episode “You’re Welcome”

Chapter Twelve:

The Devil’s Playground

Eyes glittering with aggravation, breasts heaving, face flushed, Cordelia faced him from across the room. Everything within her wanted to lash out at him in retaliation for the stupidity of his callous decisions. The arrogance he’d displayed in making choices, which affected the group at large. He’d been so determined to do what was best for Angel while masking it as what was best for everyone around him, that he had trapped them all in Hell.

That’s exactly where they were, too. Hell. He’d sold them all down the line to the wolves they’d valiantly beat from their door for years. And he’d done it either under the pretense that he’d had no other option or under the false illusion that, by signing them all up for eternal damnation, they could destroy the beast from within its belly.

Doesn’t he get that this is one battle that can’t be won?

“I understand just fine,” she flung out at him and turned to gesture to their surroundings, frustration mounting the more she looked at the swank furnishings provided by the evil empire. “They seduced you with all their fancy facilities, man power. They threw a whole bunch of money at you!”

She spun on her heels and paced away angrily as the vampire rose to follow. “They plied you with all these expensive toys, penthouses with spectacular views…” her words trailed off as her dark-eyed gaze fell upon said view. “Really spectacular…what was I saying?” she asked when she realized that she’d become distracted.

“I’ve been seduced,” Angel offered helpfully as he folded his arms across his chest.

Cordy pointed at him.

“That’s right, Pal,” she accused and returned to her regularly scheduled ranting. “Dazzled you with shiny objects! Expensive--” She resolutely turned her back on an obviously valuable abstract gracing the wall of his living room and once more faced the object of her frustrations. “There is no reason you can give me--”

“Connor,” he said quietly while avoiding her gaze.

The name took some of the wind out of her sails, though not for the reasons he would expect. When she spoke again, her voice was gentler, “Where is Connor? Why did Gunn ask…”

“They don’t remember him,” Angel interrupted before she could finish the question. “It’s part of the agreement for me to take over this place. The Senior Partners altered reality. They gave Connor a life. A real family and a childhood. Something I could never give him. He has no memory of us, and no one remembers him.”

Angel had moved past her as he spoke, and therefore missed the extreme heartbreak that washed over Cordelia’s lovely face before she thrust it beneath a mask of friendly compassion. He sat down on the arm of a sofa, bracing his hands on his knees and heaved a sigh. “Except you and me.” He looked down and muttered, “and Eve, for some reason.”

Taking a deep breath in an effort to bring her inner turmoil under control, Cordy looked away briefly before returning her attention to her old friend.

“So…,” she drawled as she moved closer to him, “not only did you strike a deal with your worst enemy to give up your son, you let them rape the memories of your closest friends who trust you?”

Angel flinched at her blunt words as well as the accusatory tone. “He was about to kill you,” he told her defensively, “and himself. He was so torn up. I didn’t know of any other way to stop him. No way to help him. Connor’s happy now.”

The vampire stood abruptly and began to pace. “We’re doing fine here. We’ve done some good work here.”

“Don’t give me that ‘we’re doing fine here’ company line!” the Seer snapped angrily. “I’m not buying it and neither are you. Neither are do the Powers That Be! Why do you think I’m here? Why do you think they’ve sent me back with a vision? Truth is, you’ve fallen off your path, and I’m here to put you back on it.”

“You’re wrong about the Powers,” Angel argued. “They’re not in my corner anymore.”

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

The argument had become even more heated after Angel’s announcement of no longer being the PTB’s choice for Champion. No matter how hard Cordelia had tried to convince the ensouled vampire of his own self worth, she’d eventually reached the limits of her carefully wrought patience. Even though she remained somewhat a higher being deep down despite her earthbound status, Cordelia’s patience and control were not endless.

So she’d left the great glass and chrome tower of Hell, Inc. There were things that needed to be seen to and one place she felt she needed to visit for what could possibly be the last time.

The door to her old apartment opened the moment she’d come to a stop. A smile of pure pleasure stretched across her face, and Cordelia stepped inside, opening her arms. As a weight settled against her, she didn’t need to see the presence enveloping her to know what it looked like.

“How I’ve missed you, my ghostly friend,” Cordy whispered into the seeming emptiness of her former abode. An invisible kiss gently placed against her forehead was the answer she received. She was finally home; welcomed lovingly by her ghost, Phantom Dennis." Did you miss me?” she asked the apparition and could have sworn that she felt a slight rumbling laugh vibrate against her cheek. The door closed behind her, and Cordelia was tugged down a short hallway where a door lay open to reveal a bathroom. Dennis released her for a few moments in order to turn on the taps and drop a stopper into spotlessly clean tub. Steam rose on the still air.

A moment later, a bottle of rose-scented bubble bath floated into the room along with a light blue bathrobe, a couple soft, fluffy towels, and other assorted sundries. Everything was laid out lovingly before Dennis carefully peeled away his mistress’ garments. If she could have seen him, Cordelia would have seen a man completely besotted with the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.

A good hour passed as Cordelia allowed herself to be thoroughly pampered by Dennis’ gentle ministrations. All the tension and frustrations from her argument with Angel melted away with every glide of ghostly hands, leaving behind utter contentment that she knew would come to an end all too soon.

As though he had read her thoughts, the loofah sponge was dropped into the water, and unseen hands began kneading the tense muscles of her neck and shoulders.

Clean, dry and relaxed, Cordy returned to the unfurnished living room lit with the soft glow of white votive candles placed atop the mantle over an unused fireplace. Where Dennis had gotten them, she didn’t know. That was just Dennis. He had always taken very good care of her. And as much as she would have loved to bask in his unwavering devotion, she had things she had to do. People she needed to contact.

Seating herself upon the creamy beige carpet, Cordelia Chase closed her eyes and focused on the faces of Tara Maclay and Anya Jenkins.

*****

“About time you got here,” Anya told the Seer. “Any idea how boring things are when your only charge refuses to remain sober for any length of time? Sheesh! You’d think he had nothing better to do besides live at the bottom of a whisky bottle.”

“Anya,” Tara admonished the other spirit. “He’s heartbroken and empty. He lost nearly everything he ever cared about when the hell mouth collapsed. Now everyone’s gone their separate ways and he’s hurting.”

“Ladies, please,” Cordelia interrupted the other two. “We’ve got more important things to discuss than a Watcher’s self-embalming. If you two could focus for a minute?”

Sheepishly, both female spirits turned resolutely from their individual charges to offer Cordelia their undivided attention. “Yes, ma’am,” and “whatever,” were the replied assurances the earthbound woman received as she quickly took a seat on a nearby boulder.

For a moment, Cordelia breathed in the picturesque landscape. They had left behind the cemetery and traversed the Other Realm. The new setting was one out of some classic fairytale. Behind them, a large sparkling castle arose high and proud. The garden in which they sat was edged by boulders on which one could sit and look out upon a glittering ocean beneath billions of stars and an eternally full moon.

Cordelia sighed after a moment and returned her attention to the other two.

“It has begun.”

Tbc

Short chapter, I know. But the next one will make up for it, I promise.