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Chapter 49

“They’re growing bolder.”

“Someone’s obviously leading them. Pushing them to test the boundaries of the clan,” the Duke of Abberly commented. His ability to detect patterns was well known to the group of vampires – and single human – gathered at the Duke of Rutherford’s estate.

Spike and Buffy had spent the last six months in Paris after dealing with Celeste’s husband, taking in the sights of the French city as they’d sought escape from the growing unrest in London. Having just recently returned to London, Spike had wanted to catch up on the latest goings-on and had suggested a quiet retreat in the countryside, and Marcus had eagerly volunteered his estate.

“Can’t be but a fledge himself. We’ve kept tabs on who’s been turned since I and the Slayer showed up here,” Spike commented. The frequency of the attacks was starting to grate on his nerves – that and the Slayer’s dreams that caused her to wake up screaming were enough for him to find the perpetrator and rip out his unbeating heart.

“Unless it’s one of the Master’s other childer.”

That brought Spike up short. He’d never even thought of that. Spike tried to remember everything Darla had ever told him about her sire and his other childer, but was drawing a blank. The only thing he could recall was her saying that she’d left the Master’s court to run off with Angelus. She’d never said anything about vampires mingling with humans, he’d just always assumed how the four of them had lived – on the fringes of society, killing and stealing to get the things they needed – was how it was done. Now he realized that something must have caused the shift, and the growing tendencies of the vampires here in England seemed to suggest it was going to happen. And soon.

“Someone not happy with the way we’re doing things, and seeking to gain a position of power,” Clayton mused.

“It can’t be a titled vampire. They’d have sufficient authority out amongst the Ton,” Angelina added.

The group looked at Alric. Though his family was titled, as the third son, he had no hope of inheriting, unless his other brothers were to die unexpectedly – and then, only if neither one had produced the requisite heir.

“It makes sense,” the vampire commented. “But, he still couldn’t be acting alone. He’d have no position of authority to lure others to his cause without the support of someone in a position of power among the clan. He’s probably just a right-hand man of one of the Master’s childer.”

“Probably an unfavored childe,” Adam added. “And, if their plan were to fail, the fledge would take the blame.”

Spike glanced over to see the determined gaze of the Slayer. Her look seemed to suggest that she was thinking along the same lines. Doyle’s prophetic words of their combined destiny came back to him and he thought back to what the half-breed had said. Something about it being twenty or so years in their future. Which happened to be right about now.

Were they supposed to stop this from happening? Allow vampires to continue to mingle with society? Somehow, he couldn’t see how the Powers would allow that to happen. Vampires were, by nature, creatures of the night. While he’d enjoyed this idyllic time here in the past, he knew that this was not the natural order of things.

So, what then was his and the Slayer’s destiny?

Buffy rose gracefully to her feet, her gaze sweeping over the vampires she considered her family. They were all there. Marcus and Angelina, Derrick and Esme, Adam, Joseph, Byron, Alric, Clayton, her dearest friend, Renee. And her husband, Spike – once her mortal enemy, now the love of her life. There wasn’t one among them that she wouldn’t lay down her life for. Protect with her last breath if it came down to it.

Her life in Sunnydale was but a distant memory. Try as she might, Buffy couldn’t bring forth the images of her friends, her watcher, her mother…Angel. Since being thrust into the past, her life had been irrevocably changed, and there’d be no going back. This was where she belonged now.

She had the dagger she always carried on her person out and had slashed into her wrist before Spike could think to stop her.

Buffy remembered Spike’s words from long ago. The conversation they’d had about how the two had inadvertently formed their own line, the formality only lacking the blood rite necessary to complete the separation from the Aurelian clan. He’d stressed the need to keep it from the others. That the second they did something about it, there’d be no going back. The Master would know in an instant, and most assuredly not be pleased.

The scent of her enriched blood on the air had the effect of a naked virgin being dumped unceremoniously on a sacrificial altar. Eleven sets of eyes zeroed in on the blood dripping from her cut wrist.

“Slayer,” Spike growled warningly.

“It’s time, Spike.” Buffy threw her dagger at him, and watched as he easily caught it. She turned and walked over to Marcus’ bar and snagged a Cognac glass, draping her wrist over the opening so that her blood started to fill it.

“You don’t know—”

“I’ve seen the signs. You have too. And, I’d rather not go into this without everyone knowing…”

Spike walked up to the Slayer, snagging her bleeding arm and bringing it to his lips. His tongue laved at the clean mark she’d made to get it to stop bleeding. “You’re a pushy bint, ya know that?” he murmured and gave her wrist a kiss.

Rather than use her dagger, Spike licked the blood off the blade and handed it back to her. His face morphed to that of his demon and he tore a gash in his own wrist and placed it over the glass the Slayer held. All eyes were on the steady stream of blood, and none of the assembled vampires could hold back their demons as the combined scent of Slayer blood and Master Vampire blood permeated the air.

When the glass was halfway full, Spike removed his arm and hastily licked the wound closed. He glanced around the room, taking in their confused expressions.

He spoke then, drawing their gazes away from the glass of blood the Slayer held and back towards him.

“Many of you are too young to realize this, but as the Slayer and I took you into our confidence, we formed a pact of sorts. As the years have passed, you’ve put our needs over those of the clans…in essence, forming our own separate clan. You did it unconsciously, thinking that our interests were that of the clan’s. But, such is not the case. And, it’s time for you to choose. Things are happening, things we can’t control. Things we’ve warned you about. Change is coming. Vampires… they’re going to go to ground, they’re not going to mingle with humans like they do now, which is why we told you to prepare.”

Spike looked at each of the vampires assembled and nodded as they seemed to get what he was saying.

“Now it’s time for you to make a choice. To stay with the Aurelian clan, or to bind yourself to us...to me. I’ll tell you right now, we’ve no idea what these bloody Powers have in store. We’ve—”

Spike broke off when the group seemed to stand in unison. As they walked forward, their fangs found their wrist and tore into their own flesh, spilling their blood, much in the same way he and Buffy had.

“You do realize—”

“Our place is with you…and Buffy,” Marcus spoke for them all.

Spike sighed, resigned. He glanced down at the Slayer standing by his side. “Hope you’re happy, luv. We do this and we won’t have long to wait for the repercussions.”

“I’m tired of waiting. Better to get this thing out in the open. See who keeps jerking our chain.” Buffy held out the glass as one by one, their friends came forward and allowed their blood to fill a small portion of it.

When the last one had finished, Spike took the glass from the Slayer. The room seemed charged with energy as he murmured the words that would bind them all to him. He finished the brief passage that staked his claim over the group and then turned to the Slayer and offered her the glass.

Buffy took a healthy swig of blood and tried not to gag on the coppery taste when it filled her mouth. She swallowed and passed the cup to Marcus. Seconds later, her head was yanked aside and Spike’s fangs were sliding into her neck. Her eyes fluttered closed and her legs seemed to turn to jello as he pulled her blood into his mouth. All too soon, it was over, and she felt the raspiness of his tongue as he lapped at the fresh marks. Then he grabbed her hand and drove his fangs into her wrist, quickly retracting his canines and allowing the wound to bleed.

She stood there, dazed, trembling with desire as Spike moved away from her and to the next person in line. Marcus’ neck was attacked with the same gusto as hers had been before he tore into the vampire’s wrist and left it to bleed. Buffy found out why a second later when Marcus turned to her and lifted her hand to his waiting mouth. His fangs sank into her skin, not so much an uncomfortable feeling as it was unexpected – she was surprised that Spike would let another bite her. She didn’t have time to contemplate the action, however, as his wrist was thrust into her face and she was forced to drink.

Her eyes closed and she gave herself over to the ritual. Another set of fangs, a different wrist presenting itself to her lips, each one after Spike had finished, until everyone had taken a sampling of her blood, and she theirs. Then, they’d moved onto each other.

Her blood was zinging in her veins – a rush she couldn’t even begin to describe. Her eyes finally opened and Spike was there before her. Bloodlust and just plain lust blazing from his amber gaze. The lust part she could totally agree with. She was so horny it was a wonder she’d not thrown herself at him yet.

“Feels good, doesn’t it, pet? That pounding you feel is each one of us racing through your veins. They’re feeling the same thing too. An awareness of one another. The effects will fade some after a bit, but it’ll be there. Always there, lurking in the background.”

The Slayer nodded helplessly, unable to say anything.

~*~*~*~*~

She was dumped unceremoniously on the bed, and Buffy wasted no time in dispensing with the barriers her clothing provided. Uncaring of her dress, she took a handful of either side and tugged, ripping the garment down the middle and exposing her undergarments to Spike’s heated gaze. She didn’t bother with her corset since the ties were in the back. Instead, she concentrated on the mounds of material wrapped around her lower limbs. Her body was on fire, and she needed Spike to ease the ache between her legs. She tugged and pulled until the material finally gave way under the strain. The cool air rushed over her legs, then his hands were there. His cool palms sliding up her legs to her thighs, gripping them tight and dragging her towards the edge of the bed.

Buffy licked her lips and she stared at his cock as it jutted from the nest of dark curls on his groin. The tip wept with his need, and she regretted that she couldn’t taste the pearly drop of precum as it dribbled out onto the head of his shaft. She stared entranced as he wrapped one hand around the base and leaned forward to guide it towards her entrance. The tip brushed along her slit and she struggled not to close her eyes, wanting to watch as he slowly sank himself into her welcoming channel.

Spike stared at the Slayer as she watched him push his way into her pussy. And he struggled not to spill his load right then. His jaw worked as her inner muscles gripped him tight, her velvety heat doing everything in its power to make him come. He forced himself to breathe and then grabbed her knees and forced them wide, opening her up even more. Allowing her to look her fill.

Which she was doing. Staring transfixed at their joined bodies. Watching his shaft while it slid in and out of her body. His hands moved from her knees to her hips seeking better purchase so he could speed up his thrusts. Her legs remained as he’d left them and Spike watched as she braced herself up on her elbows, staring fixated at her mound, and his cock, as he drove himself into her.

He felt like a voyeur. Him staring at the Slayer. Her watching herself being fucked by him. Neither said a word, as if it might break the erotic spell. Her eyes started to glaze over and he knew she was about to come. His pace increased and he angled his hips, hitting that spot deep inside her womb. She gasped and he smirked, doing it again…and again.

Her inner muscles clamped down on his cock without warning, and he clenched his jaw tight and tried to ride out her climax. She was chanting his name, her love for him, nasty little tidbits that drove him insane as she came all over his cock, unable to look away as it began to gleam with her juices.

Spike closed his eyes and tried to block out the sounds of her climax, determined not to be pulled under just yet. He wanted to stay right here, buried in the depths of the Slayer’s pussy, his cock gloved intimately in her heated passage.

“God… Buffy… feel so good… so hot…fuck…” His hips continued to move, his thrusts delving deep, until he couldn’t go any further. She felt like heaven, her juicy quim squeezing him just right.

Her hands were playing with her breast now in the aftermath of her orgasm, twirling each nipple between thumb and forefinger. His mouth watered; jealous of her fingers he lowered his head to one breast and nudged her hand out of the way. His mouth quickly closed over the taut peek and his fangs sunk into the plump flesh before he could stop himself.

She cried out, her fingers seeking his hair to hold him close, or pull him off; Spike didn’t know, or care. Just continued to feast on her blood as it flooded his mouth. His eyes rolled back in his head and he continued to thrust into her slickened passage. Faster now. Harder. Possessing her with fangs and cock. Staking his claim.

His demon was high off the other vampires’ blood, and the familial bond thrumming through his veins. He tore his mouth from her breast and latched onto the other one, fangs digging deep. Again the Slayer gasped, and Spike felt the reciprocating clutch to his cock. She loved this, the things he could do to her. The way he made her feel. She was his. Only his.

‘Mine. Mine. Mine,’ his mind chanted as he repeatedly speared her with his engorged shaft.

Her blood continued to ooze from the marks on her breast and he tore his mouth away to pull her up against him. The crimson liquid stained his chest when her twin mounds ground against his bare skin. He was fucking her now, mindless to her cries of pleasure, how she clung to him, pleading for more. The rapid pulse in her neck drew his gaze, his faded marks causing a rush of pleasure to course through his being.

He couldn’t get enough of her. Would never get enough of her.

His mouth was salivating now and he latched onto his marks, tearing into her flesh as his cock pulsed with his release. She screamed as another orgasm was ripped from her body, and Spike groaned against her throat while drawing long pulls of her blood into his mouth. His legs gave out then, and he collapsed to the throw rug beside the bed, bringing the Slayer down on top of him.

“Mine,” he mumbled as he squeezed her tight to his chest, too sated to move just yet. “My Slayer. Love you, Buffy.”

Buffy cooed her agreement, a goofy smile on her lips as she drifted off to sleep. She thought vaguely that they needed to get off the cold floor and into bed, but she was too comfortable to move just yet.

Later.

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