Snapshots of Eternity
by Slinkyspychokit


Chapter Nine: Revelations in the Night
beta'd by Oracleholly


It happened fast. One moment Spike had been lost in his own thoughts, using memories of a night, which had occurred a lifetime ago to divert himself from the luscious, leather wrapped package sprawled and chained to the bed before him. Then, there was the screech of metal as the manacles were torn asunder. She'd pounced on him in a flash of gold, black and red.

The sharp pain of fangs - Buffy had fangs! - brutally sliced through his skin. The feeling of both her fangs and her lips latching onto the wound was nothing compared to the tidal wave of knowledge which crashed into and over him.

Whatever mystical barrier that had once been erected to hide the details of the ritual he and his mate had recently undergone came tumbling down with the first pull of blood that passed her pouty, bee stung lips and pooled in the moist cavern of her mouth. Yet, he couldn't explain it, but he knew everything she knew and felt what she felt, even as her throat constricted swallowing her first mouthful of vampiric blood making room for her next compulsive gulp.

Memories....

He remembered his last thought as Buffy left him chained to that cavern wall taking her appointed place for the ritual. He'd known, instinctively, that whatever was going to happen was bad enough that the soddin' Powers That Fucked With You had deemed it necessary for Spike to be bound and helpless to go to his mate's aid.

Helpless....

He'd been helpless to do anything but watch as chains sprouted from the cavern floor and attached themselves to her wrists and ankles, entrapping her where she stood and binding the Guardian to the earth. Pieces of knowledge had tugged at his awareness. A vague recollection filtered through the intent focus Spike placed on his golden girl and the resigned look in her eyes. That look spoke volumes. She knew what was to come and her own stormy jade gaze switched between the vampire and the three beings whom had been, in Tara and Anya's cases, close friends while Cordelia had been alternately a pain in the Slayer's ass, friend and comrade in the fight against the forces of darkness.

Tara's whisper soft voice had cut through the heavy silence of the cavern, asking if Buffy were ready to begin. Buffy had replied with a careful nod of her blonde head. Spike had tried to interrupt, his rising fear for what was to come in the next small eternity temporarily overriding his resolve that these beings perform whatever ritual they needed in order to cure his love of her current state. His mouth opened, but he found himself unable to make a sound. The former Wiccan shot an apologetic look his way, her luminous blue eyes conveying the sincerity behind the apology.

Her look had lasted only a mere fraction of a human heartbeat before the gentle spirit's attention returned to the young woman bound in chains. A large staff appeared in her hands, ornately carved in dark, gleaming wood and adorned with ancient markings that Spike assumed to be charms or wards. Perhaps the markings were in a language dating back to a time when the earth was still young and overrun by those creatures for which the Slayer had originally been created.

As one, Tara, Anya and Cordelia--the latter two having taken up staffs matching the one in Tara's hands-- began a rhythmic thumping against the dirt floor. Their voices mingled into a beautiful cadence of words in a language Spike had never heard.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then everything happened at once. Pain ripped through Spike's entire being, something like a black mist seeping from his pores and coalescing into a solid shadow before him. A howling wind filled the packed dirt room and sent icy fingers of panic skittering over the vampire's flesh. He could practically hear the outrage of his demon as it tried to tear itself from its flesh and bone prison and go to its mate. The scent of his own blood alerted Spike to the extent of his struggle to escape the chains. He could feel the thick viscous fluid sliding down his arms from the torn skin of his wrists. Didn't matter how badly damaged his own body became as long as he could stop her pain.

Screams were spilling from her throat as Buffy fell to her hands and knees on the cold dirt. She'd known what would happen. Tara had explained it all to her as they'd made their trek here. The last time she'd been offered this gift, she'd vehemently rejected it. She had not jumped through the portal in search of answers just to get knocked up by some random demon essence. Instead, she'd fought against it with everything in her.

Now was a different story. The dark men were nowhere to be found. She was surrounded by love, in this moment, by the aspects of womanhood. Serenity, beauty, courage and strength. The heavy, rhythmic pounding of each staff as it struck the ground kept pace with the steady pumping of her heart as it pushed powerful blood through her veins. The very same rhythmic pounding gave her a focal point and allowed her to block some of the pain as a piece of her soul was ripped from her body and replaced with a coinciding piece of Spike's demon. They were already mated and shared a daughter despite those lies the monks had used to hide that bit of knowledge. Sharing essences was really the logical next step.

Would she become a vampire? No. At least not in the same way Spike was a vampire. This was different. She would be different, because she was already immortal. The Slayer demon, while closely tied to that which had set up shop in her mate's dead, soulless body, was able to reside within a living host. The advantage it held over its counterpart was its ability to move about during the day for brief periods of time. It also allowed for the majority of the human soul to remain within, to co-exist rather than force out those last traces of humanity. Her heart would still beat and she would still be Buffy, though the upgrade would go a long way to healing that part of herself which had been broken after the fall of Sunnydale and her defeat against the First Evil.

The image of her new incarnation arose in the forefront of her mind as Buffy felt her canines extend and the corresponding teeth on her lower jaw elongated into a smaller, though no less lethal, set of fangs. She would need to ingest blood, Spike's, whenever the lust for it demanded to be fed. Thankfully, due to the dormant Slayer demon buried deep within, the bit of Spike's demon would only awaken the primitive creature. There would be no feeding from those she'd always been bound by sacred duty to protect.

Tara had warned her that she might have some difficulty controlling herself, her hungers and desires, in the beginning. The ghostly guide urged her to remain close to her mate-- and now Sire, for lack of a better explanation-- as much as possible until she did learn to co-exist with the newly formed and awakened demon side of herself. The connection would need to be tended in much the same way as the mating claim, through blood and mysticism.

Blood...

The first mouthful of blood, darkly rich, powerful, and better than anything she'd ever tasted in her life, slid down her throat causing her to moan against her vampire's tantalizing skin. Even to her ears, the sound was closer to an actual purr than anything human.

An answering rumble vibrated from the hard, powerful body beneath her, the vibration sending bolts of electricity straight to her core. She tore her fangs from the incredible elixir freely flowing from the open wound she'd created, swiping her tongue across the jagged tear before sitting up and flinging her hair out of her face. Her eyes met the burning amber of her mate's gaze, the naked lust held in them dragging a low moan from her as she ground herself against the hardness pressed against her.

Moisture flooded the material of her lacy thong. The scent of her own arousal filled the air, rivaling the answering scent of her mate's. The low growl that rumbled past his lips, the flare of his nostrils, the bruising grip of his clawed hands as he held her tightly and thrust against her, had Buffy dancing on that knife's edge of nearly crippling need.

Her newly acquired demon had one, single-minded goal.

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

Dawn knew what was happening. The Key was almost giddy, as it, she, whatever, kept up a running commentary on what her parents were doing. So don't need the images, thanks all the same.

"Focus, Dawn," Willow's voice was sharp as it crackled in the air between them. Oz, under Willow's strict orders, had enclosed the three females within a circle of sacred sand. Faith didn't seem the slightest disturbed by whatever feelings she was getting through her connection to Buffy. If Willow was affected, the Goddess didn't let on.

That just left Dawn open to the full brunt of thoughts and emotions she could feel through the connection to her parents. When Buffy had awakened from wherever she and Spike had disappeared during their little mystical coma, the Guardian had given Dawn a fierce hug, whispered a few words of comfort-- words that had sounded so much like goodbye-- and took a running leap through the plate-glass window. Whatever force that linked the Key, the vampire and the Guardian had been completely sealed during their coma. The strain of the lost connection had finally worn away the last of her control and Dawn had curled against the still comatose vampire, heaving sobs wracking her petite frame.

The moment Spike had regained consciousness, the links re-opened and all the details of the ritual came flooding back in a torrent of images and feelings. Then even Spike had bolted leaving his distraught daughter lying in a weeping huddle on the bed where Willow found her just moments later.

It was in that moment which Willow realized the full extent of Dawn's lack of control. The girl was being slowly taken over by the entity of the Key, unwittingly feeding it more and more power through her tentative attempts with spell casting and her loss of emotional control. Determination flooded her system as Willow resolved to remain with Dawn for as long as it took for the younger woman to learn control over herself.

With Faith's help, they cleared a place in the middle of the living room floor for the three girls to sit facing each other and practice a few meditation techniques.

Then, Spike had called with his news that he'd found Buffy and that he would bring the blonde back soon.

The moment she'd disconnected from the call, Willow had already began instructing Oz on how to set up the spell ingredients which would create a wall of silence around the women. Once activated, the spell would block out any and all outside elements from reaching those on the inside.

The last of the sand was poured and a sound very much like that of a bug zapper zinged throughout the apartment.

All was silent within the well.

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

It was hard to say how they'd ended up in this position. Her hands were braced against the wall, with a fully aroused vampire pressed along her back, a set of razor sharp fangs embedded within her throat.

Some distant voice within her railed against the complete, blatant show of dominance on his part while she was being held immobilized in a submissive stance. She couldn't move. Why couldn't she move? She always moved during sex. A lot.

Oh, but this works, too, the traitorous voice in her head whimpered. The sound of it was quite audible, as one of the hands splayed across her belly slipped to the fastenings that held the leather pants together. She felt the minute tug as he clasped the zipper and slid it down, a fresh flood of juices further soaking her already sodden undergarments and another mewl escaped her parted lips.

Spike's hand snaked inside the loosened trousers. His deft fingers slid beneath the pitiful excuse for knickers, which provided the last bit of barrier separating him from the only heaven he'd likely ever know. His eyes rolled back slightly, and he released the grip he had on her neck when his fingers at last obtained their goal in the hot, moist folds of her sex. He gave the bite mark a quick lick and trailed his tongue to her ear.

"So wet for me, kitten...hot and wet...smell divine," he babbled in her ear. His fingers nimbly found the engorged bundle of nerves and he gave it a sharp pinch, grinning when she groaned and her knees weakened.

"Spike," his girl moaned as her head fell back against his chest. He held her tighter to his front, warring with his demon over the desire to just tear away her clothes and blindly thrust within her heated depths and his inner William's want to give his mate a proper seeing to.

The next words out of her mouth decided it for him.

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

// Chap 10
// Back to Chap 8
// Back to Fiction Index