Chapter Forty-Two

 

Buffy ached.  For the past ten hours straight Spike had taken every part of her in electrifying possession until her voice was hoarse and her limbs limp.  She was exhausted.  Every time he had made love to her and reached fruition he had gently sunk his fangs into her, taking small sips of her powerful blood, and shared another word as it was revealed to him.

 

“Love.”

 

“Home.”

 

“Hope.”

 

“Mate.”

 

“Yours.”

 

“Mine.”

 

“Beautiful.”

 

With each revelation her tears flowed anew, her heart flooded with devotion as he licked and kissed her exposed skin.  His hands had wandered, sketching odd shapes and promises over her flesh until delicious chills pushed all concept of reality from her mind.  Her night had become flushed with images of the past, the claim making its impact with renewed influences of power and possession.  She saw him as human, foppish hair and clothing dating him more than his tremendous knowledge of life currently did.  She saw and recognised his first love and the harsh way she had treated him and his meeting with Drusilla, and Angelus. She saw the secrets- the things that Angel had never shared with her- the understanding of why he called himself Spike’s Sire.  Flashes of knowing came to her throughout the night, right up until his entry to Sunnydale.  She saw him watch her dance, watch her fight on video, saw his attention to Dru; his caring.  But more powerful than the watching, was the feeling, for she felt every emotion joined to those flashes of his history and she felt momentarily flabbergasted.  His first view of her had signaled the change, but he hadn’t recognised it.  Dru’s persistent encouragement to ‘kill the Slayer’ had nothing to do with approving his reputable skill.  Drusilla had seen even then that she was to lose to a blond wave of sunshine who would be the force of her White Knight’s redemption.

 

The final joining had been the most intense, and she could feel the opening of Spike and even feel the trust that spread between them, encouraging his soul to venture out of hiding a little more at a time until he was on the brink of returning fully.  His remembrance of words did more than spark her hope.  She delved into the glory of this moment, the spark of singularity and belonging of what she was experiencing totally overwhelming in its true beauty.  She felt that these moments they shared were almost reverent, holy.  She was accepting his spirit as his human personality swamped back to his consciousness.  Finally, they had lain gasping, rocketed by the consuming bliss of being soul mates, and the burning heat of his eyes seared her flesh till it was tingling anew with anticipation.  But they were at last knowing.  He knew.

 

He knew!  As Buffy’s own eyes widened in excitement she flung her arms around him and squeezed tightly.  She was so relieved and grateful that he was back that she ignored the flinch of his body against hers.  As he tried to pull away she held him tighter, refusing after the intense emotion of the night to allow him to withdraw from her.  Her mind was blank of everything but her need to rejoice over his return.  So when he finally was able to thrust her away from him- and push his way to his feet-she was in emotional lockdown, no bad memory of the past ten hours breaching the barrier holding her together.

 

As she looked up at him, her eyes hooded with renewed desire, it took her long moments to register that he continued to move away from her, then snagging hold of his jeans and pulling them on almost frantically.  Finally she took note of the deep tormented creases on his face and sat up, clinging to the blanket that had fallen around her body.

 

“Spike?” she asked hesitantly.

 

He started at her voice, pulled back from his foray into the past with a grimace.

 

“How…how could you let me do that to you?”

 

“Do what?”  She was genuinely confused, a horrible sense of fear that things were about to be blown sky high.  As his hand swung wildly, finger gesturing her lack of clothing and the bites all over her body.  He was speechless too soon after regaining the ability to speak.

 

“Angel!”  He bit the name out with a residue of fury and loathing, and with a thud she came back to the event that had inspired the frenzy of sex.  She sighed in defeat, knowing that the train wreck had begun its crash off the rails, and she had no way of halting its progress.  She shrugged her shoulders helplessly, sparking another burst of his helpless anger.

 

“Spike?  I love you.”

 

It took the wind abruptly out of his sails and he fell to his knees, his head bowed.  When he raised his face to hers his eyes were filled with tears.

 

“I raped you!” 

 

The exclamation was nasty and she flinched.

 

“No, you really didn’t.” 

 

They stared defiantly at each other, both refusing to lose in the staredown.

 

“I threw you to the ground, ripped the clothes from your struggling body and fucked you senseless.  Funny, but pretty bloody sure that counts as rape.  I did it to you again.”  At first his voice had held strong to the rage- and the self-condemnation he was determined to cling to- but by the end his voice was so quiet she had to lean forward to catch the last syllable.  When she did she straightened her back with purpose, ready to shoot him down the next time something stupid came out of his mouth.

 

“First, you never raped me.  The future you attempted to rape me because I had confused you to the point of madness.  I am not angry about something I have not experienced.”  She smiled at him in encouragement, but slapped her knee in frustration when he refused to look at her.  “Second, you weren’t you earlier.  Maggie Walsh took everything away from you except your base need to survive and be a demon.  She made your soul hide for protection.  But Spike, she failed.  You didn’t hurt any of us.  As soon as you tasted me you didn’t even try to hurt anyone.  Third, you did scare me, but I understand why you attacked me like that.  You tasted something of me in Angel’s blood and you had to protect your property.  I was the mate of a pure demon, Spike.  Human, all-Chosen Slayer Buffy.  I belonged to your demon, Spike, and he made no attempt to hurt me or turn me.  To tell you the truth, I’m in awe of the love and protection your demon has for me.”

 

He was still silent and she dropped the blanket and crawled forward so that she was right before him.  She placed both her hands on either side of his face, pleased when he growled at the sight of her naked body before him.

 

“It was a good thing, Spike.”  She leaned forward and left a tiny, fleeting kiss on the corner of his mouth, feeling powerful at the catch of his breath.  “Now I know for sure I can trust the demon.”

 

His hands went around her, skimming the curve of her hip and bottom, winding around a thigh until he coerced one leg up over him.  As her lips found his, she used them with her tongue to repeat her assurances, feeling giddy with need at his emotional response.  She allowed her hand to fall, gently brushing over his erection before popping the stud of his jeans and sliding the zipper down.  The heaviness of his hard cock felt at home in her hand as she squeezed him, swallowing his tortured groan down her throat. 

 

Slowly rubbing against him was no longer enough, the fire between her legs becoming slick and needy as she rubbed her protruding nipples against the hard perfection of his chest, and she finally sunk down and swallowed him whole.  As she moved up and down, her body held enough away to allow her nipples to rub against him in slow, obliterating torture.  She felt the pressure build and her eyes grew heavy with intent.  His hands cupped her rear and began to pull her hard onto him and the ache began to reassert itself. 

 

Her hands slid over his skin, from his neck over his shoulders and down his ribs until she finally wound them round his back and pulled herself closer.  Her mouth found his neck and licked a spot up high, just below his ear.  Licking soon became too passive and the nibbles she bestowed found their mark in his elicit growls.  Buffy felt the cramping tightness of her skin, the clenching of her stomach muscles as she tried to hold off, but she was so prepared for him always that the smallest touch of his cool skin against hers set her on fire.  Their stunning cries of release coincided with the sudden slam of the front door, and they smiled into each other’s eyes as they heard Angel and Giles shouting at each other.  Their panting recovery and quick visit to the paradise they found in each other blocked out the actual words from the other room, and they surrendered to a new understanding and comfort.

 

It was okay.  They had broken records tonight.  They had broken curses.  And they had broken the hold of the Initiative woman who had tried to destroy them all.  With an exhausted sigh that Buffy felt was becoming repetitive, she kissed Spike’s neck before pulling a bag toward herself and locating some clothes.

 

“Shower first, then I guess we’d better come up with a plan to take out Adam.”

 

Spike stared at her in admiration mixed in with something stronger.  Adoration. 

 

Another brief kiss and she stood, allowing his deflated member to slip from inside her.

 

“You wanna come with?” 

 

Standing, with an old brown blanket wrapped around her good bits, Spike had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.  With a cocky grin, he leapt to his feet while firmly tucking himself back into his pants.

 

“Very cheeky, luv.”

 

Holding hands, they silently opened the door and tiptoed down the hall to the bathroom, feeling sneaky as they bypassed Angel and Giles still arguing in the kitchen.  They allowed the water to run a little too long as they got caught up in some more kissing, then got to the business of cleansing their bodies of ten hours of continuous sex.

 

Amen!