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Chapter 34

When Buffy finally deemed to open her eyes, she knew she was alone in bed. She didn’t need to see that Spike was gone, the lack of a tingling sensation along the back of her neck indicated that the vampire was nowhere nearby. The Slayer stretched – the kind that came from getting a full night’s rest – when it came to her.

Buffy, as usual, woke just as the sun made its presence known behind the window curtains, grumbling under her breath at her body’s desire to wake with the dawn. It wasn’t that the light filtering around the curtains caused the room to brighten in any way, just the opposite, in fact.

She moved to get out of bed, as was her custom, but a cool hand snaked around her waist and pulled her back. Before she had a chance to even begin a half-hearted protest, she found herself draped in a vampire blanket – comforting, not smothering – his body erupting in vibrations as he wrapped himself around her; while soft, full lips nuzzled his mark. The gentle rumbling soothed her back to sleep, smile firmly in place when she burrowed under the covers and closer to her husband.

The Slayer didn’t overanalyze Spike’s actions, and why he’d made her stay with him. The memory was something out of a fairytale, and she’d prefer to keep the vampire’s softer moment to herself. Cherish it, rather than pick it apart and look for any hidden meaning.

Clutching the sheets to her chest, she sat up. Her eyes scanned the empty room as she hunted for something to cover herself with, thus preserving her modesty as she slipped through the room’s connecting door into her own. Where, no doubt, her maid was waiting for her to appear. The only thing she encountered was her red dress laying across the chair where Spike had placed it last night, or earlier this morning, since it was well after midnight when they’d returned home. She thought to slip on her undergarments, but they were in a tattered heap upon the floor, the material not given the same courtesy as her crimson dress.

‘Like undergarments weren’t as hard to come by,’ the Slayer thought as she rolled her eyes. ‘He keeps this up, I’ll have nothing to wear beneath my gowns.’

Signing in resignation, she crawled out of bed, pulling the sheet with her to wrap toga-style about her frame to provide some hint of decency as she made her way back to her room.

~*~*~*~*~

Her morning toiletries seen to, Buffy rushed from her room and down the stairs. Although she’d enjoyed the uninterrupted sleep and felt quite refreshed, her body made known its desire for sustenance. And, she just prayed that Cook wouldn’t mind altering her schedule slightly to feed her. Mrs. Wadsworth ruled her domain with a sharp hand and an even sharper rolling pin, and Buffy hated to disrupt the woman’s pattern by having her go out of her way to provide her with something to eat. Especially when it was due to her own tardiness…even if said tardiness was her husband’s fault.

She needn’t have worried however, for as she neared the kitchens and stuck her head inside, the fragrant scent of herb-flavored stew bombarded her nostrils, and the Slayer breathed deeply, eyes closing in anticipation of the forthcoming meal. Her stomach rumbled loudly, and Buffy blushed prettily as the cook noticed her presence.

“Ahhh, I see yo’r up, just like the master said you’d be,” Mrs. Wadsworth announced by way of a greeting.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I’d actually just come down to see if there’d been any leftovers from breakfast, seeing as I’d overslept.”

The cook snorted. “As if I’d feed my mistress table scraps. The very idea. No…you’ll be getting a proper meal.”

“Oh…I don’t want to put you to the trouble.”

“Nonsense. Truth be known, we’re used to holding meals till round this time,” the cook confided. Seeing the understanding in the girl’s eyes, she nodded. “Had the staff in a dither, you did, rising with the dawn like you were,” she whispered conspiratorially.

Buffy smiled back.

“Now, run along and tell that husband of yours that dinner will be ready momentarily.”

The Slayer nodded and left the kitchen, her destination: Spike’s study – knowing that was where the vampire was probably holed up. Her assessment was correct, because as she neared, Buffy could feel the pricklies start along the back of her neck. Only, he wasn’t the only one inside, and she hesitated to interrupt him.

Still…

The cook had charged her with announcing dinner.

Although determined in her task, her knock was rather soft upon the door. She heard Spike’s terse, “Come in,” and eased the door open. His features showed his surprise at seeing her. Maybe he thought she was someone else?

“Kitten! Sorry, luv. Didn’t mean to snap. Thought you were someone else,” he told her.

Buffy walked to his side, greeting the two men – vampires – that were with her husband with a slight smile. They looked vaguely familiar, though she couldn’t quite place them. Before she could really think on it, Spike had her in his arms and was ravaging her lips. His kiss possessive and carnal, uncaring of the others in the room. She soon forgot them, as well, melting into his embrace as his tongue slipped between her parted lips. It was over before she knew it, and when she finally remembered where she was – and who else was in the room – her face flaming in embarrassment.

From her position tucked along his side, Buffy turned her head to peek beneath her lowered lashes to look at the others. Neither seemed disgusted with her public show of affection for her husband; if anything, they both seemed amused at the master vampire’s possessiveness.

“Something you needed, pet?” Spike asked, drawing her attention away from the others and back to him.

“Huh? Oh, yes…Mrs. Wadsworth, the cook…she says dinner is almost ready.” Verbalizing said meal caused her stomach to rumble yet again. Damn, she was really hungry!

Spike looked up at Clayton and Alric, shocked that he’d momentarily disregarding his guests while he ravished his wife. Unfortunately, as much as he didn’t want it to, she had that effect on him. Made him forget himself, and concentrate solely on her.

“We’ll be along in a moment.”

Buffy nodded and slipped from his side, encountering the other two as she made to leave the room. It dawned on her then, where she’d seen them. They’d been the ones to save her, when she’d been too shocked to save herself. These demons had been her saviors, protecting her from the brutish human males that would have raped and possibly killed her.

She stopped before the older of the two, the glasses he wore doing nothing to distract from his handsome good looks. While no Spike, the man could easily have any woman he wanted, if he so chose. Buffy took his hand, smiling to reassure the vampire, who had started to twitch under her direct stare. Behind his desk, her husband growled possessively, and she flung an eye roll over her shoulder before turning back to the others.

“Thank you. Both of you,” she told them, her gaze shifting from one to the other. They looked at her questioningly, so Buffy clarified. “For the other night. For saving me from those…those men.”

“It was our honor to do so, m’lady,” Clayton replied, his expression gravely serious.

The Slayer nodded at them, then stepped away, her mind mulling what he hadn’t said as she made her way to the dining room. Strangely, she couldn’t find it in her to regret – or even care about – their deaths. Oh, she knew as surely as she lived and breathed that the men that had touched her were dead. Had probably been killed not long after she’d been led away and towards the Marchioness’ home.

~*~*~*~*~

Dinner was a quiet affair, and for the most part, Buffy let the conversation flow around her. As she ate her meal – which was delicious, the cook having outdone herself yet again – she silently contemplated asking Spike about spending her afternoons with Renee. And, in the time-honed tradition of children everywhere, she asked her husband while guests were present, so as to avert a scene.

But the master vampire surprised her, so much so, that he teased her about his supposed overbearing nature in front of the others. His quick agreement to her request had floored her, even if her request had been vague enough to prevent him from knowing the real reason for wanting to spend her afternoons with the Marchioness.

It boiled down to a pride thing. Here Spike was, settling into this role the Powers had allotted him, and he’d easily adapted to the situation. Playing the part of a titled gentleman as if he’d been born to it. True, she wasn’t sure about his past – maybe he had been nobility before he’d been turned. It was a topic that had never come up.

Then, there was she. Just plain old Buffy. No special skills except killing demons with sass and flair, a ready quip before they expired into dust or goo. Now those skills were practically useless. Well, not so much useless, as not needed. The vampires here seemed to have a much better control of their demons. The Slayer had yet to hear the first cry for help. Most seemingly content to drink their blood from the goblets before them.

They also ate. Real food. And seemed to enjoy it.

It boggled the mind.

So, here she was. A Slayer, only not. Her only saving grace the fact that she was the first human they’d seen claimed by a vampire. It didn’t inspire much confidence.

Besides, the lack of television almost begged for her to open up a book for entertainment. If she could broaden her skills, say learn a language or two – after all, Doyle had said twenty-five years give or take – all the better. She just didn’t want to be the dumb Slayer that relied on her friends and watcher to handle every aspect of research.

After dinner, Spike left her to her own devices, and Buffy used that time to jot down a quick note to the Marchioness letting her friend know that she’d gained her husband’s approval and inquiring as to when it would be convenient for her to begin her lessons. It took the Slayer a moment to figure out how to work the quill, several drafts lying crumpled on her desk as she tried to word the letter just so, while keeping in mind her penmanship. Another few were spent unraveling the mystery of the Arundel seal. When she was finished, she eyed the letter with satisfaction before leaving the room to place it by the front door for delivery.

With nothing but time on her hands until they had to leave for the Marquess’ home, she decided to wander the grounds out back. She would have grabbed a book from Spike’s study, but was loathe to interrupt him while he was entertaining guests in his sanctuary – apparently discussing business with the other two vampires, and a third man – someone she’d yet to meet.

The hours seemed to slip by as Buffy walked along the paths of the garden, stopping often to peer closely at a particular flower. The gardening staff was most helpful in naming the different blooms, warming to their topic at her obvious interest. She listened attentively, surprisingly interested in the different aspects of how they bred certain species. All part of the bettering herself mentality.

After a thorough discussion and several pointed questions, she moved off, leaving the men to their work. The sun dipped behind the horizon and darkness fell. And still she meandered through the garden. It was peaceful here. Quiet. The serenity of the gardens allowing her mind to wander, to think about all she’d like – no, needed – to do to prepare for whatever it was that was coming.

At the edge of their property line, near the brick wall that enclosed their estate, she found some lawn furniture – table, chairs, a few chaise lounges. Stretching out on one of the lounges, she stared up at the sky towards the stars that seemed to shine much brighter than in Sunnydale. The lack of electricity not causing that glow that seemed to settle over her hometown city and casting a pall upon the sky.

She felt him before she saw him, her eyes not as equipped with the night vision as his were. Times like this, it was her Slayer sense that she relied on to tell her when a baddie neared. Buffy turned her head towards the path she’d wandered down, knowing that it was there that he’d be coming from.

Sure enough, moments later, he came into focus.

Her eyes slid over his frame, taking in the disheveled look he pulled off with such aplomb. Walking sex was what he was. His movements, his attitude, that sexy smirk and, oh man, that tilty thing he did with his head as he appeared to guess what was on your mind.

God forbid if he could read hers right now, for she’d be blushing to the roots of her hair.

She watched his grin widened, and Buffy nearly groaned aloud as she remembered what her chaperone had once said.

“Vampires…they have an excellent sense of smell.”

“What’r you doin, pet?”

“Nothing really. Just looking at the stars. Funny how the lack of electricity seems to make them brighter, ya know?”

“Been out here an awful long time just to look at the stars…”

“Well, I did walk among the gardens first. I didn’t realize you employed so many people just to make everything out here look so pretty. A couple of them told me how they breed some of the flowers to create new colors and such. Never knew you could breed flowers, thought that was strictly for…” Her voice trailed off and her face flamed. God, did everything lead back to sex with her? Buffy was just glad it was dark outside.

Spike coughed around the Slayer’s embarrassment. Thoughts like that would have him late for dinner with his “father.”

“Come on, pet,” he coaxed, reaching down to help her from the lounge. “Time to get ready for supper. Don’t want to be late.”

“What time it is?”

“Going on eight o’clock.”

“Already? I’ve been out here that long?” she wailed as she rushed to her feet. “I’m never going to be ready in time.”

Buffy moved to pass him and rush back into the house, but a firm grip about her waist held her back.

“Spike…” she whined. “I don’t want to be late.”

Spike loved to see the Slayer flustered like this. Reminded him of the time he’d told her about her chaperone…

He placed a chaste kiss upon her lips and told her, “Bath should be ready about the time you make it upstairs. Wear the dress your maid has laid out.” Turning her around, he swatted her behind to get her moving.

Her glare promised retribution before she harried off. Something the vampire looked forward to with much anticipation.

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