Snapshots of Eternity
by Slinkyspychokit


Chapter Three: Moonbeams & Gentle Whispers part II
Beta'd by Oracleholly


"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, which she had always thought 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 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 helplessly 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 borne 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 was okay, that she didn't have to keep going. But, she continued anyway. He deserved to know what he sacrificed himself for; deserved to know what she had become.

Several more minutes passed before she got her emotions once 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 could now feel every slayer across the planet. She'd also gained the power to easily traverse the astral plane allowing her to communicate with the souls of fallen slayers. In response, Willow had sought sanctuary amongst the Shaolin monks at a Tibetan monestary where she had been trying to learn control over her new abilities as well as cope with the newfound immortality she'd 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 Willowand a very small group of others, everyone she knew and loved would eventually die and leave her to face eternity alone.

Ah, the joys of immortality.

But, now her love had returned to her.

Her skin pressed to his. 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 spilled glittering liquid diamonds onto her cheeks, his lips kissed them away. His voice cooed loving words of devotion and assurance. His fangs carefully slid 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, their claim was renewed.

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

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