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Chapter 27

Doyle had to admit, laughter wasn’t quite what he was expecting. At the very least, he’d expected shouts…and cussing – with the bulk of the foul language coming from the vampire. His worst-case scenario involved him being pummeled to death, again, at the vampire’s hands. But there they stood, laughing as if he’d just told the punch line to a rather funny joke.

He crossed his arms over his chest and waited.

And waited.

What he’d said hadn’t been that damn funny. Not that it had been funny at all, but he could see why they were laughing. Wasn’t every day that someone claiming to be a messenger of the almighty “Powers” revealed to you that you had a destiny to fulfill. But still! This was no laughing matter. Things had happened for a reason.

“It wasn’t a joke. And, I don’t see why it’s that funny. It’s true,” Doyle finally announced, cutting short their merriment. He’d been rudely interrupted from a sound sleep and their laughter at his expense was starting to grate on his nerves.

Buffy stopped chuckling and glared at Doyle.

“Right, because I get sucked into some alternate dimension where vampires are the norm and I’m not supposed to think it’s funny. Oh, and lets throw in some destiny crap for added good measure.”

“It’s not an alternate dimension. It’s the past,” Spike commented.

“Sure seems like it to me,” she argued back. “And, when I want your two cents, I’ll ask for it.”

“Look, sla…Buffy,” Doyle began.

The growl overrode whatever he’d been about to say.

“You bitch,” Spike snarled, stalking towards her.

She stood her ground, refusing to back down. He was a vampire; she needed to remind herself of that. So what if they were married. It wasn’t real. None of this was real. As soon as she got back to her own time, this whole nightmare would cease to exist.

“Spike. Now isn’t the time,” Doyle told the vampire. He really didn’t want to be here when these two came to blows.

“Stay out of this, Doyle.”

“Look…she hasn’t had time to adjust to all this. You’ve had over a month to get acclimated. Cut her some slack.”

“No.”

“Spike.”

“Back off.”

Spike tilted his neck from side to side, the bones of his face rippling as his demon came to the fore. He rounded the corner of the bed and moved towards the Slayer, determined to put her in her place.

Buffy was scared, but she’d be damned before she’d admit it. Her eyes looked about the room for a weapon and she turned and ran towards the chair several feet away to break off one of its legs and use it as a makeshift stake. She felt Spike grab the blanket clutched about her body and let go of the gathered edges so she could keep moving. Ignoring the growl that indicated his increased ire, she finally reached the chair, snapping off one of its legs and turned to confront the pissed off vampire closing in on her.

She assumed a defensive pose and waiting for a moment to strike. When he got close enough, her arm reared back, ready to deliver the final blow…

“STOP!”

The Slayer froze where she was, her nude body nearly vibrating with adrenaline. She couldn’t move. Why couldn’t she move? Helpless, she just stared as he came closer…her eyes going wide at the violence of his gaze.

“Drop it,” he commanded.

The wooden stick slipped carelessly from her opened hand.

“Spike…wha-what have you…you…done to me?” she asked breathlessly.

He stopped in front of her, blocking her from the other demon’s gaze. His arm snaked out, gripping her hair and bending her head back, exposing the long column of her neck.

“’S not what I’ve done, pet. It’s what you’ve done.” He lowered his head and ran his tongue along her neck.

“Yours. Now and forever.”

“No…” She tried to shake her head, but her hair was held firmly in his grasp.

“Do I need to show you again? You’re mine…‘n I’ll not have you talkin’ to me like that…even if you are the bloody Slayer,” he murmured in her ear. The softness of his tone in no way disguised the menace in his voice.

It sent a chill down her spine.

“Sorry…I’m sorry…” she mumbled into his neck. ‘Why am I apologizing?’

“Mmmm… yes. I can see that you are. Tell me, Slayer,” he whispered in her ear, his tongue tracing along the outer rim. “Did your watcher ever explain to you the finer dynamics of vampires?”

“No?” came the rhetorical question at the slight negative shake of her head. He sucked on her bottom lobe, smirking around the flesh in his mouth when he smelled the heady scent of her arousal.

“Tsk, tsk. How can you be an effective Slayer without having all of your weapons at your disposal?”

“Giles…said…said took one look at me and…and…threw out…threw out the Slayer handbook.”

She bit her lip to keep from groaning as his fang pricked her skin. In a flash, his human mask was back in place, and blunt teeth and soft lips surrounded the small puncture wound he’d made. Buffy gripped his arms and her knees gave way when he began sucking on her neck.

‘Oh god.’

She would have fallen to the floor, but Spike had looped an arm around her back and brought her body flush against his. The mini orgasm that swept through her body astounded her. God, he’d only been sucking on her neck! And yet, it had been enough to turn her legs to jello.

A throat clearing sounded in the otherwise quiet room.

“Bugger off, mate.”

“Yeah, well. I’m ready to. Trust me. Although, I sense after this visit, you won’t be seeing me anymore, so I suggest you listen to what I have to say.”

‘Oh god. How could he just make me completely forget about Doyle?’

She panicked, struggling against his grip, unmindful of the growl that emanated from his throat. She needed to put some distance between him and her… and fast.

“Lemme go…” she begged quietly. “Please…”

Spike’s eyes narrowed on the Slayer’s reddened face. Confusion, embarrassment, shame. He sighed unnecessarily, unsure why he relented to her plea. Maybe it was the way she’d sounded almost like “Elizabeth.” He walked her backwards towards the screen, shielding her body the entire time, and let her hide behind its protective barrier.

He’d forgotten for a moment that she was human, still had those shy tendencies vampires discarded the moment they’re turned. He’d give her this reprieve since Doyle was here, and he wanted to hear what the half-breed had to say.

He turned away from the partition and moved to grab a nightgown from the wardrobe. He remembered teasing her unmercifully while she packed her nightclothes, watched as she’d blushed at his comment about not needing the garments while they were here; not like she’d worn one since they’d been married. Guess the joke had been on him, now that the Slayer was back in control.

“Here, put this on,” he told her, shoving it into her hands.

“I…thank you…”

Spike nodded once before turning on his heel and rejoining Doyle on the other side of the bedroom, sitting down in the other chair situated in front of the fireplace. Neither said a word while they waited for the Slayer to get dressed and join them.

Buffy glanced down at the garment Spike had thrust in her hand and quickly settled it over her head. The soft, pale material covered her from neck to toes, and she breathed a sigh of relief that she was somewhat decent. Not wanting to put off Doyle’s story any longer, she slipped from behind the screen and walked over to the two men sitting before the fireplace.

They’d taken the only two seats, leaving her wondering just where exactly she was going to sit—

Until Spike grabbed her arm and pulled her down on his lap. She flopped into his lap, instinctively wanting to protest, but visions of a repeat performance from early caused her to bite her lip against the retort just dying to spill from her mouth. Glancing over to Doyle, she noticed he didn’t look repulsed by her actions. If anything, he seemed delighted for some reason. Weird. But, his reaction, or lack thereof, made it easier for her to recline back against Spike’s chest and get comfortable.

She still felt slightly uneasy sitting there in her enemy’s lap, so she suddenly became fascinated with her hands. Staring down at them as she fidgeted nervously with the ring on her left finger as she waited for Doyle to start talking.

“Pull that off and I’ll beat you within an inch of your life,” he snarled softly in her ear.

“Wha? No…I wasn’t…”

Not mollified in the least, Spike lifted his head from the Slayer’s ear and barked at the half-breed to explain himself.

“Sla…Buffy. I’m not sure exactly what Spike’s told you, but things are a little different in the past. For one thing, vampires roam freely amongst humans in this time.”

Her head shot up at that statement, astonishment clearly evident on her features. The latest altercation with Spike over the ring forgotten as she stared dumbfounded at the Powers’ messenger.

“What? How? What about the Slayer?”

“Different country entirely. Attitudes are different there…although, that’s going to change soon.”

“Huh?”

“Change. Change is coming. And soon. Within the next twenty…twenty-five years, Europe will join the rest of the world…”

“Whoa…wait! Twenty-five years? What do I care what happens in twenty-five years? I’m sure I’ll be home and all this will be history.”

Behind her, Spike rolled his eyes at her inadvertent pun. His grip on her tightened almost imperceptibly, sensing where Doyle was going with his story. For now, he held his tongue. Figured he’d let the half-breed say his piece and hopefully allay any of the Slayer’s anxiety at their current situation – he really didn’t want to have to keep coaxing her to him night after night. Much better for her to just accept what had happened and lose that contrary stubborn position she’d clung to since regaining her memories.

“I’m afraid not, Buffy. Your presence will be instrumental in the coming battle.”

“You’re saying that I have to stay here? In the past? For nearly twenty-five years?”

Doyle just nodded.

“Are you OUT OF YOUR MIND?! I’m not going to spend the remainder of my life locked in the past. And, twenty-five years?? I’ll probably be dead in another two. Slayer here, remember? Short life expectancy…”

“Spike took care of that for you,” Doyle announced.

“Wha?”

“He’s claimed you. You belong to him now.”

“Come again.”

Seeing her confused look, he explained.

“You’re never going to get any older. Your face is never going to age. As long as Spike is alive, you’ll be alive. In essence, he’s gifted you with his own immortality.”

Buffy couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d told her that Martians had landed on the moon and were plotting with the devil to take over the world.

“So…so you’re saying, I’m stuck here? Until whatever is going to happen in twenty-five years happens? Then what? Do I get to go home? What about my mom? My friends? Giles?” Angel’s name she voiced silently.

Spike knew; however, and once more that possessive growl kicked in. He’d be damned if she’d be mooning over the poofter for the next twenty-five years.

“Time’s different here. Not sure if I can explain it right, but essentially, you’re the past. You’ve already happened. Everything you’ve done… everything you will do… it’s already history to them. So, your twenty-five years here? It’s like a drop in the bucket in your time.”

She didn’t bother to try to understand that one. Right now she was so confused and wanted nothing more than to huddle into a ball until she woke from the nightmare her life had suddenly become. She curled instinctively into Spike, knowing he’d look out for her…keep her safe. Her eyes closed and she rested her head against his chest. She’d probably have questions for Doyle tomorrow. But, right now, she just wanted the oblivion of sleep to overtake her.

“Nothing to say, Spike?” Doyle asked the vampire when the Slayer went silent.

Spike’s look said it all.

“Yeah, well, like I said. Just the messenger here.”

“Guess this means you’re off for good this time?”

“Think so. But, I’ll be stopping in from time to time. Keep you two on the right path. Besides, you play a wicked game of chess.”

Spike snorted and glanced down at the sleeping Slayer. When he lifted his head, the half-breed was gone.

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