Snapshots of Eternity
by Slinkyspychokit


Chapter Seventeen: Lies My Lover Told Me

****Flashback****
seven years ago...

The lovers lay entwined upon a narrow cot in a darkened basement. It was their last night together for a very long time. Everything that had needed saying had already been said; vows and promises now echoed in the gentle glide of fingertips on skin.

Neither felt the need to further discuss the missions which would tear them apart come morning. There was no point in doing so as there was still the very real possibility that one or both of them would not survive the coming battle.

The slow building orgasm rolled through her and Buffy cried out the vampire's name in a soft whimper. Tears fell from the corners of her eyes only to be licked away by a cool tongue. Her entire body tingled; desire rebuilding itself immediately as though she was storing the pleasure only he could ever give her up for all the lonely nights that were sure to come.

"God, you're amazing," Spike whispered as he stroked a hand lazily up and down the golden expanse of her back. She trembled beneath his touch and lifted her tear-stained face just enough to peer down into his passion-glazed eyes.

"You get the job done yourself," she replied with a playful grin. The words were old, going back to a time when they his themselves away in a moldy crypt. Her eyes danced wickedly. "Too bad we took down the chains."

"Least we finally made it to a bed."

Buffy's eyes became sad again and she laid her head back against Spike's chest. "I'm so tired." And she was tired. Though, what she felt was soul sick at what was to occur when the sun rose.

Spike's arms tightened around her and he buried his lips in her hair. A gentle rumbling purr vibrated beneath her cheek. "Rest, luv. I've got you."

****End Flashback****

Buffy studied the vampire seated on the opposite side of her desk. "Y'know, I really don't understand why we keep having this conversation. I gave you one guideline when I accepted your help." She shook her head with a sigh and pressed her fingertips to her temples in hopes of staving off the impending migraine. "One rule, Drac. Don't. Screw. My. Slayers."

"You did not refuse me," came that silken voice that caressed her skin and slid down her spine. "It could be that way again."

It was a tie as to which urge was stronger; fling herself across the desk and wrap herself up in all that vampiric sensuality, or fling herself across the desk and shove a pointed stick through his non-beating heart.

The fact that the egotistical bastard looked smug decided it for her. "Not on your unlife, old man. It was thrall. A parlor trick. Doesn't work on me, anymore. I'll say it one more time, Count Famous. Stop screwing my Slayers. I've got enough trouble without the army of Slayer-shaped ticking hormonal time bombs willing to tear each other's throats out for a chance to bang the legend."

And puh-lease! It's not like the guy is even all that great in bed! He just a one bite stand with a bagful of showy gypsy tricks, sexy eyes and voice that gave good thrall! On the heels of that thought, came another image. Piercing blue eyes and a naughty smirk that was only outdone by hands and mouth that could turn her into a panting, writhing mess in seconds.

Dracula slid to his feet, bracing his hands on the edge of her desk and lowering his voice until it was fairly oozing with sex. "You know how to keep me from your girls, Elizabeth. Agree to be my consort."

Buffy sighed. "No," she replied in a bored tone. "Leave my girls alone or I'll have the Coven bind your powers."

It was an old, empty threat, but Dracula didn't know that. His lavender eyes filled with uncertainty. Then they sparked with anger. "You would not dare," he hissed.

Buffy folded her arms across her chest. "Try me, Drac. If you can't keep your fangs to yourself- not to mention any other excitable parts- then leave. Go back to your castle and your brides."

As she spoke, Buffy strolled across the room and opened the door with a pointed look at the master vampire. "Your choice, Count. I won't have this conversation again."

Dracula smoothed his long, slender fingers over his silky black hair and walked out of her office with his head held high. She sighed and closed the door, contemplating the last half hour. That's one problem solved. Hopefully. Only a couple hundred or so left, she grumbled to herself.

Ten minutes later, a quiet knock interrupted her work. Buffy muttered a few choice words in irritation before slamming shut the file she had been reading. "Enter," she called tersely.

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

Spike had taken his own sweet time to get from Bay Area Three- or what he liked to think of as the BAT cave- to the administrative wing. Dawn wandered along at his side, her warm arm looped through his as she guided him ever nearer to the Slayer. The younger Summers had been happily chattering incessantly since Red had separated the combative Aurelian males.

"...and if you ever scare us like that again, I'll fucking dust you myself!"

"Nibblet!" Spike slammed to a halt in the middle of the corridor with his mouth gaping open in shock at the obscenity which had come from the young woman's sweet lips. "Language! I know your sis an' I brought you up better than that."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Whatever. In case you haven't noticed, I'm not fourteen anymore." She got an evil glint in her gorgeous blue eyes. "'sides, if I'm old enough to do it, I'm old enough to say it."

The brunette giggled at the flustered look on the vampire's face. She stopped walking and turned to him, having sensed his nervousness. Offering him a smile of encouragement, she smoothed her hands over the crisp tee shirt of the standard issue military black and grey fatigues. "Here we are."

Spike cast a glance at the engraved brass plate which informed him they had reached his destination. "Looks like."

"Um...I could go in first...cushion the blow?"

Spike smiled softly and pressed his lips to Dawn's forehead. "Thanks ever so, Bit. Really. But..."

"Gotcha," Dawn nodded her understanding and threw her arms around the vampire in one last hug. When she stepped away, she looked him over a final time. "You look nice, dear. Play nice, have fun, don't get dead."

Spike chuckled quietly as the Slayer's kid sis bounced back the way they had come. No doubt off to find Connor and spend the next few hours making up for lost time. He followed her with his eyes until she had turned the corner and was lost to his sight. He was alone.

Spike took a deep breath and knocked.

"Enter," came the terse reply from within. The former slayer of Slayers took a deep, fortifying breath of air he didn't need, steeling himself for the moment of which he had awaited seven years.

Bracing himself, Spike stepped through the door before he could lose his nerve. His eyes found the object of a decade's worth of fantasies. His golden goddess. His tempestuous temptress. She of the flashing eyes and honeyed skin. His love. His life...

"Glad to know you're alive," she snapped as she reached into a drawer of heavy metal desk.

Spike swallowed the angry retort and schooled his features into a mask of complete boredom. "I'll have my report for you before I get settled into my quarters."

His words were devoid of any emotion, though his eyes swirled with deep emotion. Silently, he watched her retrieve a glowing lavender orb and smash it against the floor at her feet. A flash of energy crackled throughout the room. His ears popped from the change in pressure and he grinned, holding his arms out to her.

Buffy glanced at her watch. The glamour would last an hour before it wore off and the security cameras began recording once more. Unwilling to waste one precious second, she flew across the room and dived into Spike's arms, crushing her mouth to his, kissing him as though she could devour him from the lips down.

"God, I missed you," she sobbed as she clung to him. Tears streamed down her face. "Let's never go be heroes again."

Spike laughed and cried at the same time. They had lost so much time. Seven years, to be exact. Seven long, excruciating years of wanting and needing and not having. Seven years in which every waking moment was its own personal hell.

He had died for her, closed the Hellmouth and burned to a cinder before being entrapped within that soddin' amulet. There had been no reason to believe that Angel's plan would work. No proof that the machinations of the Watchers and head of Clan Aurelius could actually succeed in fooling the Senior Partners. There had been no guarantees that Spike would ever be reunited with his love.

****Flashback****

May, 2002

Spike was in a fierce temper. It was actually a slight improvement over his previous bout of mindless rage. He had found, over the decades that a solid round of destruction could be extremely therapeutic in alleviating stress. Hope the owner kept his insurance up to date, he mused, though not actually caring whether or not the person who owned the place ever returned. Sunnydale had emptied itself of humans and demons alike save those directly involved with the coming battle.

At the moment, Spike stood against the wall, chest heaving more from intense emotion than the actual need to fill his dead lungs with unneeded oxygen. In his hand was the note from his Slayer which he had found upon waking just after sunrise. He'd known she was gone before he'd opened his eyes; knew why she had left and where she had gone. Just as he knew that this was something she had to do alone.

It is not for thee. It is for her alone to wield.

The words he had found in the monastery's secret room, words which had driven Caleb into a rage induced killing spree came back to him and Spike cursed the Slayer's name a dozen times over even as he mentally begged her to be safe and come back to him in one piece.

Footsteps crunched over broken glass in the tiny house's living room and Spike felt the unmistakable signature of family. Hurriedly, he tucked the note away and composed himself.

"Your handiwork?" Spike inwardly groaned at the familiar voice that he loved and hated in equal measure. He trained his eyes on the rumpled bed linens where he'd lain the night before with his love tucked securely in his arms.

"Why am I not surprised?" Angel looked around the room, the only room which had escaped his grand childe's little tantrum. His nostrils flared as he caught the various scents mingled together. He knew exactly why Spike had left the bedroom untouched.

"What do you know about it," Spike snapped.

"More than I ever wanted, actually." Angel jerked his head towards the room he had just left. "Let's take a ride."

"Hello, vampire? Not interested in kissing daylight anytime soon," Spike snarked. "Recent trip to Africa's kinda cured me of all those little suicidal tendencies."

"You always did talk to much, William," Angel called back over his shoulder as he walked back to the living room. Spike groaned beneath his lack of breath and followed the magnificent poof.

Once they were settled into the safety of Angel's limosine, the elder vampire gave directions to his uniformed driver and closed the partition. Spike sat opposite his grand sire and gazed petulantly out the tinted window. Angel watched him in silence for several miles.

"Do you love her?" The question was so abrupt and unexpected that it took a moment for Spike to realize that Angel had actually spoken aloud. The blond vampire flinched, but refused to answer and give the old man one more excuse to ridicule him for being as much of a wanker as Angelus had always claimed.

"Then stop acting like a spoiled teenager." The dark haired male tossed a thick, brown dossier onto Spike's lap and turned his equally dark eyes to the scenery whipping past the window. "It's all there."

Spike studied his grand sire's profile for a minute, noted the tic in the square jaw that spelled trouble to any who crossed him. Then he opened the file and felt nausea rise in the back of his throat. Angel was right, it was all there. Every detail. Dates, times...photographs. "Where the hell did you get this?" His voice had taken on a low growling quality as rage built anew.

"Wolfram and Hart," Angel replied in a flat, emotionless tone. "I've taken over the L.A. division. Lock, stock and evil barrel. Minions to paperclips, it's mine."

Spike snorted at this information. "'s that right? Whose family did you have to slaughter to get your meaty paws on that place?"

"Mine." Angel shifted in his seat so that he was facing the younger man. "Mostly, I destroyed world peace and this was the reward." A casual wave of his elder's hand brought Spike's focus back to the file in his lap. "You should study that, William. It's just chock full of unfun facts to know and sell."

Spike opened the thickest file in the binder and began reading as Angel lowered the partition long enough to give the driver directions to the mansion on Crawford Street. A black and white surveillance photo lay on top. It had been taken of himself and Buffy lying in his old bed at the crypt. She was draped over his chest, her arms wrapped around him as though she would never let go. One of his hands was tangled soft, golden hair while the other splayed possessively against the naked flesh of her lower back. He had his face buried in her sleep tousled locks.

Spike felt Angel's eyes on him and quickly shuffled the picture to the back of the file. The next page began the detailed account of Spike's tempestuous affair with the blonde warrior. Every last sordid fact, encounter, every game they played, every twisted fantasy, every rejection.

Stuffing down the rage that burned within his heart, Spike sniffed. If the poof was here to take his revenge for Spike's having touched what his elder believed his, the sod was just going to have to stand in line. There were plenty others standing in line for the pleasure of taking out William the Bloody. "Nice bedtime story you got yourself, Peaches. Already knew all this, having been there. What's the point of digging up mine and the Slayer's uglies? You gonna kill me over it?"

A curious smile curved his elder's lips. "Thought about it. Well, fantasized, actually," Angel answered honestly and pointed to the file. "It goes on to tell about your return to Sunnydale and sanity. The removal of the inhibitor chip. Etc. Etc. Yada, yada, yawn. Relax, Spike. I'm not here to stake you because you got the girl."

Spike couldn't have been more surprised if Angel had suddenly torn off his clothes to reveal high heels, fishnet stockings and burst into a rousing rendition of "Sweet Transvestite".

What Angel did do was pull something from his suit coat and tossed it across the seat. "Relax, Childe." He smirked as Spike held up the gaudy looking necklace in his hand. "Cheer up, William. You're going to be a hero."

The limo stopped moving and Angel tensed in preparation for the mad dash for the mansion's front door. "We're here."

He was gone the next instant and Spike stared after him for a moment as he thought over everything he had just learned. "Bloody 'ell."

****End Flashback****

It had taken three weeks and a great deal of money paid to an independent contractor who specialized in acquiring certain hard to find relics. The amulet had been returned to Angel and their great bloody plan to stop the Senior Partners had commenced.

Spike shook himself free of the memories and focused entirely on the warm body wrapped around him. That part of his life was over and he was with his girl once more. He grinned at her and pressed his lips to her forehead in a gentle kiss.

"Sorry I'm late, luv. Traffic was a bitch."

// TBC
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