Snapshots of Eternity
by Slinkyspychokit


Chapter Fourteen: What's In A Name?

Pleasure. White-hot, intense, searing pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in her belly, seeking that one glorious moment that would set it free. Then there was blood. Delicious blood filled her mouth and slid down her throat to meet and mesh with the sensations already sparking from the place where flesh drove mercilessly into flesh.

It happened in the next instant. The dam broke; the power flared, rising up from her deepest places to burst from her mouth in screams of pleasure. Then the wave of pleasure crashed over both of them in scalding waves of bliss. Spike's screams seemingly echoed Buffy's, and the power created by their coupling bit along his own skin, raising tiny hairs over both of their bodies. The ferocity of it all drove them literally to the ground, Buffy oblivious to the rough brick scraping at the tender flesh of her naked ass and her bare shoulders. Upon impact, they both moaned at the intense feeling of Spike's still thrusting cock driving deeper to batter against her womb.

One orgasm fed into another, and another, and another, over and over in an endless cycle of unadulterated pleasure riding that knife's edge into pain. Buffy felt not only her orgasms, but also her mate's as well. It was indescribable; the closest she could express the feeling would be that they had suddenly succeeded in becoming one being. A being of writhing, sweating, bleeding and breathing lust; greedily drinking in every bit of essence their individual selves possessed, absorbing each other through the very pores of their skin.

Exhausted and drained, albeit, happily, the lovers collapsed against each other in a pile on the dirty alley floor. Both decided that it'd almost be worth it to let the sun's lethal rays find them. Nothing in all eternity could ever come close to what they had just experienced.

Swallowing painfully against her desert dry throat, Buffy cracked open an eye and tried her best to peer up into her love's glazed, azure gaze. "Wow," she mumbled weakly and moaned as his answering chuckle vibrated against her over-sensitized body.

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Dawn sat at the vanity in her bedroom, a place she had spent so little time in that she hardly felt it was her own. Studying her face, Dawn saw that her eyes, once a blue as pure and deep as those belonging to her father, now sparkled with an emerald to match the other green wisps decorating her hair and the edges of her face. She was both enamored of the color and saddened by it. Despite the similarities she shared with her mother and father in bone structure and personality, the eyes told her she was now something else.

It was all about the eyes. Not just hers, but the other's. The part of her that was the Key had quieted, no longer overwhelming her with its presence. Its hold now remained as a gentle guiding hand. Just now, as she continued to gaze into the mirror, the Key was showing her things. Images. Some she understood- the Council Headquarters, a drunken Xander playing poker in some hellhole; a girl with stringy, dark hair restrained at the wrists in a hospital bed. However, among those images, one was unfamiliar - another man she didn't know. This man's flesh was covered with numerous tattoos. Sigils.

Long moments passed in which Dawn focused all of her attentions on those symbols inked into the stranger's skin. They were words. Phrases. A smile curved her lips as she read them as easily as one might read a child's introduction to reading. Clear as day, their intent became evident. A spell meant to hide. Unconsciously, her hand picked up a pencil and began sketching the vision she saw in the mirror.

Just as Dawn's hand completed sketching the last symbol on the page, the image within the mirror changed once more and a new face appeared. In a glance, she felt all the air whoosh from her lungs and her fingers flattened against the surface of the vanity. This new face was having an unexpected effect on her. Sweat beaded above suddenly dry lips. Her skin felt hot and prickly despite the cool air and the goose bumps skittering across her arms. Her belly fluttered nervously and a strange ache deep inside had her pressing her thighs together.

The image was that of a male. He looked to be about her age with bright, blue eyes and a softly rounded face, which danced on the edge of androgyny. He smiled, and heat suffused Dawn's cheeks upon thinking at how beautiful his face became with that smile.

A word came to her out of nowhere and a sense of longing and peace filled her being at the same time.

Mate.

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The first faint blushes of morning were beginning to tint the night sky when Buffy and Spike finally made their way home. A lifetime had seemingly passed in the space of a single night, and both were feeling its effects deep in their sleep-deprived bodies. As the pair entered, Willow sat her tea cup down quietly and stroked Kristlan's clawed foot, as he shifted and returned to sleep on the back of the chair where she had been reading to pass the time.

A sigh of relief washed over the Goddess as the lovers mumbled a sleepy greeting in her general direction before trudging to their bedroom and disappearing behind the closed door. Whew! At least I'm saved from the big explanation until the fanged duo have had their beauty rest. It would be a heck of a lot easier to avoid a bloodbath if she didn't have to explain her actions to cranky demons.

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Faith rolled over in bed and found herself face to shoulder with her snoozing lover. For once, the thought of finding a dead body in bed with her was a good thing. Her wicked grin at the thoughts of the aforementioned dead guy and his very talented parts faded slightly as she noticed the tattoo on his left shoulder blade. Leaning a bit closer to it in the faint gloom of the bedroom, her grin returned in full force. It was a wolf. And not just any, mind.

For some reason, which Faith vowed to discover, the Master of Rome had a tattoo on his right shoulder of a red wolf.

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Stupid, stupid girl. Stupid, selfish, foolish girl playing with magicks and timelines she had no real concept of...

Cordelia was fully aware of the girl's part in all that was taking place just now. She knew Eve didn't belong to this time, though she didn't fully understand how she came to be employed by the Senior Partners. No, Eve was playing too many sides; erecting a house of cards that was going to come down on all their heads.

Stupid girl. Searching out Lindsey from whatever rock he'd crawled under. Finding the amulet and sending it back to Wolfram and Hart. Re-corporealizing Spike. The free will stealing robots. The games. The taunts. The plots within plots.

Stupid, foolish, little girl. There had to be some way to send her back to her rightful place before she did any more damage.

Not even bothering to knock, Cordelia barged into the secret hideout for Lindsey MacDonald in time to see Eve, definitely worse for the wear in the wake of her boyfriend's capture by the Senior Partners, curled up in his bed. The younger girl squeaked before her wide, terrified eyes took in the fury radiating from the higher being.

"Evelyn Dawn Summers!"

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A/N: Uh-oh! Three full names! Somebody's in trouble. Yes, I know. Evil cliffie. Guess you'll just have to read the next chapter to find out what the frilly heck is going on. **bats eyes innocently**

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