Snapshots of Eternity
by Slinkyspychokit


Chapter Eight: Rebirth
beta'd by Oracleholly



Los Angeles

Beeping...

As her awareness began to grow, her mind focused on that sound after being dragged back into her body. So like the sound of that primal drumbeat in that other place - the steady thumping of the ornately carved wooden staff striking the ground over and over.

Screams...

The lonely, haunting cry of a fierce creature caught within the trap of its own making completely helpless to escape the bonds. Desperate to reach its mate; snarling and snapping, unaware of the harm it did itself as it continued to rage at their captors.

Shifting...

Everything was changing; outsides were becoming insides and vice versa. Power shifting, trading, taking away and giving back. Bodies, souls, aspects and essences were all tossed into a metaphorical blender and set on HIGH. Metaphysical threads twisted and twined, were torn apart then put back together again albeit different than before. Creating something where once there had been nothing.

Beeping...

She was back to the beeping. Her memories of that OTHER place were dimming, being replaced with the memories of what she'd been before ... back before that special kiss ... when she'd still retained some shred of her innocence.

High school friends- and enemies- flitted through her mind. Random nights spent dancing at the Bronze. No cover Tuesdays. Not safe to leave her convertible- the shiny red ‘Sweet Sixteen, Love, Dad’ - parked in the nearby lot. The Bronze was the place to go. “Oh, they let anybody in.” “It's in the bad part of town...About half a block away from the good part of town.” They hadn't actually had a whole lotta town.

Gods! She'd been the ditziest bitch at Sunnydale High. Then the Slayer had come to town, forcibly shaking the scales from Cordelia's eyes and dragging the spoiled little rich girl in her Jimmy Choo shoes to see her town for what it really was. Hell on Earth. And, hell's mouth had been gaping wide in glutinous anticipation just fifteen feet beneath the floors that saw the daily pitter-patter of teenaged feet.

Cordy's world seemed to crumble down around her overnight, as she learned that the monsters under her bed were real. Making it to graduation had been a crash course in survival skills. Once the malaise that held her fellow Sunnydalians in steadfast ignorance and denial lifted, she saw the truth: not only were vampires and demons real, but they were also scary, ugly, and very, very hungry. They prowled through the night, hunting their hapless, still in denial-until-its-too-late human prey.

Too soon, the sheltering embrace of memory gave way to waking thought. The steady beep-beep increased its pace in conjunction with the groan that drifted from between slightly parted lips. Wide, almond shaped eyes the color of decadently rich chocolate fluttered open scant seconds before she heard the sounds of the rapidly approaching medics.

Then people filled her room. Some clad in various colored scrubs and a few dressed in pristine white lab coats with stethoscopes wrapped around their necks. All of them watched her every breath as it filled her lungs and was expelled. The blinking of her eyes alone held great interest for them, as they looked their fill.

Frightened, Cordelia Chase swallowed with a great deal of difficulty before uttering the first word she'd spoken in over a year.

"Angel..."

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Spike let out a pained groan as he struggled against the heavy fog surrounding his brain, instinctively stroking a hand through the silken strands of hair fanned across his shoulder. His mate's name expelled as a harsh whisper as though he'd been screaming for days, though he couldn't remember why he would have been screaming in the first place. He swallowed against a throat which felt as though it were lined with jagged bits of glass and licked his dry, cracked lips.

The small body curled up against his side trembled violently. A quiet whimper sounded in the still air of the room before a flushed, tear-stained face lifted, and his eyes met with Dawn's red rimmed ones.

Upon seeing that he was awake, his -What should I call her? My daughter? Sister? Does she even know the truth of her own parentage? - Nibblet sobbed loudly with visible relief.

His questions were answered when her little girl lost voice whimpered her first word, "Daddy?" And he felt his heart swell with so much pride and love that he thought it might very well burst from his chest.

But, something was wrong. Even though his demon clamored for a chance to reclaim this precious gift from the Powers That Be, he wanted … no, he needed his mate. Thus, Spike stretched out all of his senses, taking in the broken bedroom window. Narrowed to mere slits, the amber eyes of his demon zeroed in on the faint traces of blood on jagged glass.

Gently nudging Dawn from his chest, sparing a brief glance at his Bit's saddened face, Spike stood from the bed and moved to the window. Buffy was out there, somewhere, and he'd be dust once more and damned a hundred times over if he allowed anything to stand in the way of his finding her.

Spike took the same route as his diminutive mate, lithely dropping three stories to land with a predator's grace, black leather duster fluttering in the breeze. Allowing his demon to take control, he lifted his face and scented the air. Animalistic glee filled him as he easily picked up the scent Buffy had left specifically for him, whether she realized it or not.

Little bitch of mine wants to play games...Forgot who she's dealing with...'M not Peaches. The image her scent conjured up, sent blood surging to his loins. He groaned as lust flooded his system, making his demon howl in expectation of the chase. Let's go find our mate and teach the stubborn chit a lesson. Think the bint needs reminding who she bloody well belongs to...

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

It had been oh, so very long since she'd wanted anything but death. That sweet, blessed release from all the pain and the fighting. For what seemed an eternity death hadn't been just snapping at her heels, it'd been carving out pieces of her soul and leaving gaping wounds where it crawled inside with the intimacy of a long time lover. Curling within her deepest places and nesting there in wait for the moment she allowed it to take her fully.

Now she was death. She was death and life, so thoroughly enmeshed in one another that even she could no longer discern where one ended and the other began. Tonight, none of that mattered. Tonight, she was free for the first time in as long as she could remember.

The only thing that mattered to her was the sum of three little words.

Want. Take. Have.

Want... She'd seen it in the window of a specialty shop as she'd prowled through the streets. Shiny leather the color of freshly spilled blood. Ruby red exuberance tightly sheathing sleek, powerful muscles. It would ride low on her hips, the cold metal pressing deliciously against her aching clit; rubbing in just the right way with her every step.

Take... It had been nothing at all for her to deliver a powerful sidekick to the large glass standing between Buffy and the display case greedily coveting the thing she desired. Too fast for the very human sales clerk to react, the petite Guardian snatched her prize from its resting place. In a flash, she'd obtained the matching leather tank top and the black, heavy soled boots matching the laces of the top. An instant later, she'd already vanished back into the night.

She stopped slipping through the shadows to don her newly acquired armor when she spied a thick copse of trees. Glancing down at the grungy looking pajamas she'd forgotten were still covering her body, Buffy growled in irritation and tore the navy silk pants and blouse. She could always buy more where those had come from, anyway.

Buffy sighed with obvious pleasure as she all but slithered into the second skin. A grin split her face, showcasing a double set of both upper and lower fangs to match the flickering green/gold blaze in her eyes and the tiny little ridges above her brow.

Hearing a noise nearby, Buffy froze and attuned her senses in order to locate the source. When no further sounds other than the night followed, she relaxed and turned back the way she came.

She'd taken but a single step when something large and heavy tackled her from behind and drove her back to the ground. She screamed as lethal canines plunged deep into her neck, savagely tearing at the flesh and furiously sucking down her potent blood.

Everybody knew the blood of a Slayer was an aphrodisiac.

What about the blood of a Guardian?

Everything went black.

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

Over the weeks since his arrival in Rome, Spike had found that among the many establishments owned by the ancient city's Master Vampire, were several demon-only hotels. One such hotel was located near Night Haven and provided a discreet service for the discriminating vampire. It was like the bloody W for the undead, except instead of a mint on the pillow, rooms came with virgin blood in the dishonor bar and a trunk full of 'Toys' at the foot of their lavish beds.

After checking into the Black Rose Inn with an unconscious, leather clad female draped over his shoulder and being shown to their suite, Spike knew he needed to phone up Red and the Nib so as not to worry them overmuch in regards to his and the Slayer's whereabouts.

He kept the call very brief and carried a hint of warning that those who could feel the inner workings of both Buffy's and his own minds, do what they must to allow the couple their privacy until their return. The last thing he needed was for their daughter to be a captive audience for whatever happened upon Buffy's return to consciousness. Red wasn't much of a concern for him, Spike reasoned. Aside from being a powerful witch, the redhead had learned when and when not to take a peek into someone else's brain. She no longer abused her power.

Of course, the fact that Spike just didn't give a tinker's damn whether or not the witch caught a mindful went a long way to aiding his comfort level.

Once he finished the phone call, Spike dropped the cell phone onto the nightstand and moved to the chest at the foot of the bed. Some of the contents he found within brought back interesting memories -some good, others...well, not so much- and he shoved them all aside as he rifled through the neatly arranged implements until he found what he was searching for.

The heavy chains clanked loudly as he pulled them free from the wooden box, and he returned to his unconscious mate, slipping the manacles around each wrist and securing it to a metal ring attached to the wall above the bed. He had a vague sense of the changes that had occurred within her body as a result of the ritual, but Spike would be a fool if he didn't take necessary precautions just in case the new and improved Buffy Summers was drastically altered in a.... Not going to think that way, mate. Just secure the bloody chains and wait for the girl to wake up.

Once he assured himself that the slender blonde would be unable to escape her bonds, Spike pulled a chair to the bedside and settled himself in to wait.

When had it all started? That was the question he'd asked himself thousands of times over the last couple of years. What had been the moment in which William the Bloody, self-proclaimed Slayer of Slayers had become so irrevocably obsessed with the woman-child he'd been so determined to kill once upon a hellmouth?

You bloody well know exactly when, you git; said the voice of his demon, while his inner William sputtered at the way Spike's eyes drank in the way the shiny leather molded to her succulent thighs. His mouth watered and his borrowed blood went straight to the burgeoning erection behind the cold metal zipper of his jeans.

Back, you beast! William shrieked at the demon. Spike had the sudden image of his human self dressed head to foot in tweed, unruly mousy brown curls flopping everywhere as he wielded a whip and chair at the demon, like some lion tamer. You shall not molest our girl whilst she is unaware!

Said whip cracked through the air with an audible snap, and the demon snarled through a mouthful of fangs.

Spike groaned aloud, scrubbing a hand over his face even as he noted that the mental exchange between his soul and his demon had somewhat distracted him from the very delectable sight of his mate chained to the bed. In the place of his lustful perusal of leather and warm, golden skin, his earlier question returned.

This is not the time for self-delusion, my friend, William informed him in a calm tone. The image of William now seated in the chair, which he'd previously used in order to fend off the lecherous demon. Apparently, William had exchanged the whip for a writing tablet and pen.

You are well aware of that defining moment. Even he is aware. William nodded to his side where a game-faced Spike grinned lasciviously around his elongated canines.

To prove his point, William waved a hand in the air and the memory arose to the forefront of his mind.

***FLASHBACK***

Fall, 1998

He hadn't been given much information to go on. Small. Blonde. Lethal. Spends a great deal of time at the local dance club.

Small and blonde, check. Covered the majority of female flesh currently flinging about in the noise which passed for music in this joint. He could feel her out there, in the dim light and the mass of humans with their heartbeats thundering against his senses. They were clueless that death came dressed in black denims and long, black leather duster. The women who'd noticed him, and a few of the men as well, wore a different sort of hunger on their faces than the one he would satis-…

Hold on a tick...

He saw her then, moving away from a table on which her scattered school things lay forgotten. Instead, she took to the dance floor with another female and an awkward male whose chaotic jerks and twists would have been comical, had Spike bothered to notice.

But, Spike noticed nothing. Saw nothing other than HER. Golden hair, golden skin, glittering eyes filled with a hunger for life.

***END FLASHBACK***

That was the moment in which he'd been lost. Spike knew that now with more certainty than he knew of any other truth. There, dancing with her friends in an overcrowded dance club, the sixteen year old Buffy Anne Summers dug herself straight into the very core of her would-be murderer's being.

Spike’s thoughts were violently interrupted by the very loud screech of metal, a fraction of an instant before he found his lap filled with warm flesh and the sharp pain of fangs slicing into his neck.

tbc

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A/N: For those of you who are unfamiliar with the name W, it's a chain of five star hotels owned by Starwood Resorts and Hotels Worldwide.

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