Banner by Vampkiss

Chapter 46

“You do realize what would happen if word of this got out, don’t you?”

“Yes. I…we…it was more than they ever thought possible. It was just supposed to be you and the Slayer. How…how did you manage to sway them to your side.”

“Don’t rightly know m’self,” Spike answered truthfully. “It started with the Slayer tellin’ the Marchioness, and it just kinda snowballed from there. Chit seems to inspire loyalty. Hell, they don’t even realize what they’ve done yet.”

“Will you make it official?”

“And have the Master seek me out? Are you bloody crazy?”

Doyle bit back a retort. He’d already overstepped his bounds when he’d shown the vampire what would have happened had they returned to their time period and played out that timeline. Some things were better left to witness firsthand. Spike didn’t realize it yet, but, his demon was going to demand it – the question was how long it would actually take.

The two settled into companionable silence after Spike’s outburst, each lost in thought while they finished off the second bottle. It wasn’t until the last of it had been poured into their glasses that the vampire spoke.

“How long you here this time?”

“Got nothing pressing to attend to just yet,” Doyle replied.

“Guess that means I’m putting you up, huh?”

Doyle grinned and downed the last of his drink. “You gonna tell the Slayer?” he asked as he rose to his feet.

“Prolly.” Spike pushed his chair back and stood as well. “Hell, I practically alluded to it before I left the house tonight, so she’ll just nag me to death until I do tell her. Not that anything is going to come of it, mind. But if I don’t tell her, she’ll ask one of the others. An’ it’s not something I need getting out.”

They left the club behind, the Duke of Sevring offering the pair a ride home in his coach. Talk soon turned to the ball being held tomorrow night at an acquaintance of both the Duke and Marquess, and how they could possibly get out of going. Everyone was chuckling when the coach pulled to a halt outside Spike’s townhouse.

“I’ll see you tomorrow night, then,” Spike told the human.

“I suppose so. I don’t think Caroline is going to let me get out of this one,” he replied. “Especially given that business has kept me away from the last two.”

Inside, Spike ushered Doyle upstairs to the room he used when he happened to “drop in.”

“I’ll have my man bring something by for you to wear tomorrow. Oh, and if you happen across a redheaded female? Play nice. She’s the Slayer’s new project.”

“Play nice? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

But, the vampire didn’t answer; he was already inside his room.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy really hadn’t wanted to attend the ball being held, something which pleased Spike (and Doyle) to no end. The thought of celebrating so soon after Mrs. Rothworth’s dusting had left a bitter taste in her mouth. But, she’d forced herself to go. If for nothing else than to socialize with the few human friends she had.

All traces of the incident had been eradicated, the clan planned on staging a carriage fire for the day after the ball. Their purpose was twofold; it enabled them to wax over the minute details of a wake and subsequent funeral, and it allowed the vampires to slink off to the country under the guise of a brief mourning to deal with the remaining humans.

She was still on the fence as to whether or not she was going to go. Spike, surprisingly, hadn’t pressured her one way or the other. In fact, he’d been unusually subdued on the subject – as if he were harboring secrets of his own.

Which reminded her, she still had to ask Spike about his blood comment from earlier. And what in the world a sect was.

The final notes of the piece the orchestra was playing drew to an end, and Buffy halted in front of her dance partner, Marcus’ father, the Duke of Rutherford.

“Thank you for the dance, m’dear. I believe my son is next on your dance card?” the elderly man asked.

“My pleasure, Your Grace,” Buffy responded sinking into a curtsey, just as she felt a slight tingling sensation at the vampire’s approach. She glanced over her shoulder, and sure enough, the Duke’s heir was making his way to her side.

“Marcus,” she greeted.

“Buffy. Father.” The Marquess inclined his head towards his father as the elder man relinquished his hold.

“Good evening, son. If you’ll both excuse me, I see the Earl of Valasay trying to gain my attention.”

Both nodded, and a moment later, Marcus twirled them away as the beginning strains of a new song began.

“How are you feeling?” he asked without preamble. Word of Buffy’s abuse had swept through the clan, the majority of the vampires wondering how she’d managed to survive nearly being choked to death. It was only a select few that knew the real reason she was all right, that the bruise marks she’d obtained were no longer visible on her neck.

“I’m fine,” she responded. “Slayer healing and all that.”

“Are you going to come? Tomorrow?”

“I don’t know yet. It’s…” She sighed, unable to explain her reticence.

“You don’t have to watch. Just being there would be enough. Solidarity of clan and all that.”

“I’ll—”

“How’s Angelina?”

“Huh?” The abrupt change in topic took the Slayer by surprise. So much so, that she faltered in her step, the vampire’s lightning-quick reflexes smoothing over her mistake before anyone happened to notice.

“The human girl? Lady St. James?”

“Oh! She’s well.”

“She’s not here tonight?”

“No….uh….she didn’t feel up to it just yet.”

The young vampire just snorted.

Buffy’s eyes narrowed, pinning him with her characteristic “don’t mess with me” look.

“You leave her alone. She’s been through enough without having a…someone like you breathing down her neck.”

“Someone like me?” he exclaimed in mock affront. “What did I do?”

The Slayer just rolled her eyes.

“How about overbearing, thinks-he-knows-what’s-best-for-everyone… .male?”

“So, it’s not me being a vampire that’s bringing out these maternal instincts?”

“Pfffft. Not hardly.”

“Two weeks.”

“Two weeks?”

“I’ll give you two weeks before I start making my presence known.”

“Two months.”

“Two months?! One month…and not a day more!”

“Agreed.”

Buffy bit her lip to keep from looking smug. In all honesty, she thought Angelina was doing remarkably well given her circumstances. She’d only pushed for two months’ time because she’d known the vampire would force her to half that. A month to stew would do the handsome fledge some good. He’d no doubt had the ladies – human and vampire alike – throwing themselves at him since his formative years.

“But, you have to desist if she doesn’t... you know,” she threw in as an afterthought.

His leer told her that wouldn’t be a problem.

After Marcus, the parade of men seemed to blur until, finally, she felt Spike at her back claiming her for the next dance.

“Having fun, pet?” he murmured in her ear before twirling her around to face him.

“My feet hurt,” she complained. “I feel like I’ve been dancing all night. What time is it, anyway?”

“Gone two o’clock.”

“Two o’clock! Gah! I have been dancing all night! I’ve barely said hello to Celeste or Caroline. They’re going to think I’m avoiding them.”

“No they’re not. Do you want me to take you over there so you can visit?”

The first few notes of the waltz began and Buffy shook her head.

“No, I want to dance with my husband first.”

“Whatever you say, luv.” Secretly, Spike was thrilled. He loved these unconscious gestures of the Slayer’s affection. How she put him first before all others, like it were a foregone conclusion.

He basked in the feel of her in his arms as they moved about the floor with a few other couples, the majority of them vampires. The waltz had yet to take a firm hold within London’s polite society; the only reason it had as much a following as it did was because it gave vampires a chance to shock their human counterparts somewhat secretly. Personally, he loved the near-scandalized looks of the prim matrons, knowing that the only reason they seemed to put up with the dance was because the Ton’s most eligible bachelors enjoyed it so.

Spike swept Buffy from the dance floor just before the song ended and settled her amongst her friends. He bent and gave her a quick kiss before he left, causing a few of the women in the Slayer’s circle to sigh dreamily.

“Does Lord Thornton have a long lost brother we don’t know about?” Celeste asked her friend, knowing good and well the answer. Not to mention that she was already affianced.

“Think they broke the mold with that one,” Lady Jordan replied. “Though my Rafe seems like he could hold his own in a match-up.”

Buffy blushed, pleased with her friends’ assessment. It made her feel better knowing she wasn’t the only one that noticed Spike’s unguarded moments. Those little things he did or said that proved his, heretofore, unspoken affection.

A few hours later, the Slayer was doing everything in her power to hold back the yawns that seemed to plague her. She was tired, both physically and mentally. She’d still yet to decide as to whether or not she was going with Spike to the Earl of Hawkingstone’s estate. Something she’d, no doubt, spend what little remained of the night trying to figure out since most were riding out just before dawn.

Mentally sighing, she smothered another yawn and tried to focus on the conversation swirling around her, wondering when Spike would show up and take her home.

“Excuse me, ladies,” a familiar voice called out a greeting behind her. “I’ve come to steal Lady Thornton from you. Her husband bade me fetch her.”

Buffy rose gracefully, grateful to finally be going home. As much as she loved her friends, right now she was ready to get out of her dress and crawl between the sheets of her bed and sleep.

Farewells were given all around then the Slayer gratefully took Doyle’s arm and allowed herself to be led towards the exit.

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy moaned out loud at the first touch of Spike’s cool fingers on her skin. Both were devoid of clothes, the Slayer stretched out on the bed, Spike sitting beside her. With a few fingers, he traced a random pattern around one perfect mound, watching with interest as the darker-hued nipple tightened almost instantly. He rolled the pert nub between thumb and forefinger, smiling when it hardened even more.

Unable to resist, he lowered his head, cupping her malleable flesh as his mouth closed over his prize. He felt her practically jackknife off the bed and used his free hand to pin her to the mattress before attacking her flesh voraciously, alternately biting and sucking until the Slayer was near mindless with need.

When he felt she couldn’t take it anymore, he released her breast with a last loving caress of his tongue, and before she had a moment to recover, Spike had stretched out over her body to pay homage to the other.

Buffy was dying, she really was. It never failed. Here she was ready for hard and fast, set-the-sheets-aflame, mind-numbing sex… and Spike was being Mr. Take-My-Time Guy. It left her feeling frustrated. Like a rubber band stretched wide on the brink of snapping, but unable to achieve the end result.

“Spike,” she whimpered helplessly.

He seemed to take pity on her, releasing her over-sensitized nipple from his mouth.

‘Oh thank god,’ she thought, just a second before he resettled himself between her legs, his erection nestled intimately against her sex, and kissed her. Her toes curled as he plundered her mouth with his tongue, his bold possession leaving her gasping for breath. Afterwards, soothing her with a gentleness so sweet, it brought tears to her eyes.

A few stray drops seemed to slip past her closed lids, and Spike kissed them away, murmuring nonsensical words in her ear that caused even more tears to fall. These, too, he licked away…

Like he was taking her pain inside himself.

How was it that he knew what she needed when she herself didn’t? His attentiveness to her released the floodgates she’d been trying to hold back ever since learning about Mrs. Rothworth. Holding him tight, she sobbed her grief into his bare neck until she could cry no more.

Spike held her all the while, knowing she needed to get it out of her system so that she could begin the healing process. When she was finished, he made love to her with the same gentleness he’d shown earlier. Afterwards holding the Slayer close until he felt dawn approaching. He eased himself away from his slumbering wife then, quickly donning his clothes so that he could make it inside his waiting carriage before the first rays cut across the sky.

He’d not bothered badgering the Slayer into attending. True, she’d come a long way in her attitude. And while she may condone what was being done to the humans, Spike didn’t think she was quite ready to witness it firsthand.

And if she was?

It was a decision only she could make.

next

REVIEW ME!