Chapter Thirty-Nine

 

Angel could hear the trembling breaths of shock and acceptance fall from Buffy’s lips, and he hung his head ashamed.

 

“I’m sorry,” he told her, his throat raw with grief.  “I should have guessed he would taste you.  He’s not himself, Buffy.”  He raised his eyes to meet hers in a clash of wary discomfort.  “Don’t blame him for what he did.  He was just being a vampire-not allowing anyone else to touch his mate.  He felt he needed to remind you.”

 

His eyes remained fixed on her, caressing her wet, devastated face in gentle glides as he controlled his fierce desire to let his gaze wander over her exposed flesh.  Quiet but angry growls warned him of how aware Spike would be of his motives and he pulled himself up from the floor and turned away.  As he lifted his hand to turn the doorknob, Buffy called out and he stopped.  His hand was suspended in the air as he kept his hungry eyes fixed on the wood panel in front of him, but waited for her to speak.

 

“I-I can’t stay like this.  Giles, or one of the others could come in, and they wouldn’t understand.  Can you cover us with a blanket, and then maybe go to my dorm room and get Willow to give you some clothes? J-Just tell her I need them for tomorrow.  Please don’t tell her what h-happened here.”

 

Still not letting himself glance at her he went to the fold out bed and grabbed a blanket resting on the seat, quickly draping it over the entwined pair before making his exit.

 

The door clicked closed behind him and he slumped against it.  He had never felt such an overwhelming sense of loss in his unlife, and he felt eager for the cold night air to wash some of his despair away. 

 

The walk to Buffy’s dorm allowed him distance and time to recuperate.  He was afraid; afraid of the consequences his quick offering had caused.  He had never felt so torn in half; his demon and demon law on one side challenging his humanity and soul on the other.  He knew that Buffy had been more than shocked to have a fully enraged and primitive vampire jump her, and he didn’t think that she understood all the implications of the act.  For all he knew she might interpret Spike’s frenzied attempts to reassert his power through possession-in love- with the hateful human act of rape.  Her eyes had reflected an acceptance that almost drove him to stake himself. 

 

That the woman he loved had to accept the overpowering advance of an out of control vampire was something he always thought he would be able to protect her from.  The past few weeks had brought home a number of truths that he wished he could ignore.  That he would never be hers again was the most savage cut.  That he no longer had the right to protect her, or even to touch her again made him rage inside. That in his most basic condition, Spike’s demon still protected and claimed her.  He had seen the glow of ownership in the amber glint of Spike’s demonic eyes as he had pushed her to the floor, whipped her clothes away from her flesh and thrust violently inside her. 

 

His own demon had risen eagerly within him, wanting to push his silly Childe aside and punish him for thinking he had the right to claim such a power as the Slayer.  He had felt no sense of possession or feeling of having his own toy stripped from him. Just a small challenge as the head of the family. He may have taken her innocence at one time, but he had never laid claim to her- only wanting to inflict hurt not burden himself with her presence.  It was Angel who had left his mark upon her neck, but again it was no claim of forever.  The demon in Spike had adhered formally to the rules, and Angel was left to submit to his right.  The right to show all that he was the Slayer’s mate and no one could ever taste her again.

 

He felt slightly alarmed at the unusual quiet of the night and wondered at the absence of all things supernatural.  Well, other things supernatural.  Then he saw a military group trying to be stealthy and his jaw flexed in fury.  He melted into the shadows of a building and let them pass, smelling the three that had earlier been at Giles’s flat.  He wanted to jump out and tear them apart, his soul funnily enough screaming for bloody vengeance.  For William.  It was his demon that allowed them to continue unharmed, for Angelus would rather plot pain than bestow it too quickly.

 

He continued on until he entered the right building and made his way to Buffy’s dorm room.  He could hear quiet chatter on the other side of the door, and quickly tried to control his face as his demon still fought for control.  He was furious to his very bones, confusion something he couldn’t cope with right now.  His fist banged on the flat wood and he stayed on the other side of  the threshold once Willow had opened the door.

 

“No invites, Willow.”

 

She raised suddenly terrified eyes to his and took a step back from the door.

 

“Just here to pick up some clothes for Buffy.  Can you get some stuff together for her and I’ll take it back over to Giles’s?”

 

She nodded and quickly took to the task, stuffing toiletries and clothing into a small bag, pausing before a draw before grabbing a stake and shoving it in there as well.  She placed the bag on the floor then pushed it outside with her foot.  Angel grimaced but nodded in acceptance, strangely serene that she had accepted his subtle warning.  With a tired lift of his hand, he indicated his departure and he was gone.

 

For a long time Buffy remained on the floor, her body weighed down by the continued lethargic presence of Spike.  She had felt the exact moment when all his rage had drained away and he had tried to console her with affectionate licks to her mark.  She caught her breath as she felt him swell again within her, a small part of her rebelling at the act.  Mentally she knew what had just happened, and accepted it.  She had taken a vampire as her lover and could hardly object when his nature jockeyed for playtime.  If she was to blame anyone for causing her to feel used at this moment, it was Professor Walsh for creating something she had no power over.  While his head was hidden against her throat, she marvelled at how disassociated she became from the reality.  In her mind she played the bathroom reel, and knowing that even back then it was the desperate vampire trying to make her understand his pain, she found it almost impossible to accept what had happened.

 

Then he raised his head and for the first time since Riley had returned him to her she looked into blue eyes glowing with love.  His fear was unmasked, and her heart shrivelled a little in reaction to what he must also face once he was back to himself.  His attempted rape had caused him to seek out his soul so he could treat her kindly, love her gently.  This had been no attempt: he had reached fruition, and even though she would never think of what they had just shared as rape, she had a nasty feeling that souled Spike was going to have monumental problems with his actions.

 

She cupped his cheek and pulled his mouth down to hers, sipping desperately at his taste.  Tears dripped from both their eyes as she held his cheek against hers, her lips rubbing against his, but mouths never opening.

 

Looking once again into his eyes, her heart exploded with truth and she vowed to do all that was possible to bring him back to her, whole.

 

“I love you,” she whispered, the volume of her voice almost obliterated from emotion.

 

“Love,” he told her huskily as his hips began to move, and the gentle glow of knowing that always flushed her body began to take over, and she knew she would forgive him everything.