Summary: Post "Bargaining, Part 2", and "Chosen" by seven years. Buffy and Spike really don't realize how much they're supposed to be together. But being bound together by the soul in another life can have that effect on people.
Disclaimer: I do not own the show Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel (The Series). All of the characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox, et al.
Feedback: jackie_a_2002@yahoo.com
Prologue (Binding) Date Unknown - Highlands of Scotland -
The cave lies two thousand feet below the surface and is only light by three troches set around the chamber. The floor of the cave is slick with water and has three occupants.
Two people kneel on the floor-cave facing each other with their hands clasp together. The female of the two has a thin piece of material wrapped around her. Her long, dark blonde hair lies in a braid down her back. The male has a similar piece of material wrapped around his waist. His long, white blonde hair has been pulled back into a queue. His blue eyes almost glow in the light.
The third occupant moves around one end of the cave. The attendant lays pallets down on the floor of the cave and piles some blankets over the top of them. After his job is done, she quickly leaves the chamber.
Only seconds after the attendant leaves, the chamber is filled with a male voice, speaking in a guttural language. The words move around the two, drawing the two closer as he speaks. The female starts to speak and the guttural language seems to undergo a change. The language almost seems to become melodic and floats in the air.
As she completes the rhythmical verse, the energy that had gathered in the air draws tightly into the two. As it comes into them, they bend over at the waist with an aching pain.
A sense of completeness, of right settles over the cave as the two come back to themselves. They make it to their feet and over to their make-shift bed, their thin towel-like-attire forgotten on the floor.
Part One (Together) 1550 -
They’ve been friends since she was five. They’re parents have never liked how close they have remained during their adolescence. They had thought it was unseemly.
Buffy and Spike - Elizabeth and William as they’re parents persist in calling them - had made sure to see each other at every opportunity. They had gotten in trouble many times when they had been caught ridding to meet the other.
Things had been going great for them until she became ten and eight and him five years her senior…
Spike’s horse charges through large open barn doors. He pulls up on the rains and is off his horse before the horse has barely come to a come. Before he’s taken two steps, he has a sobbing girl in his arms. Between the bulk of her dress and her momentum, Spike has to go down to his knees. “Shh, love, clam down. What are you fretting about?” Spike asks into her hair.
However, she continues to sob into his shoulder, clinging to his shoulders with a death grip. He had teased her many times that she should’ve been a man instead. She’d always punch him on the arm. He would fake being hurt.
“I came as soon as I got your message. What is it Love? It’s not your…”
“No,” she says as she pulls away. She gazes up at him with tears filled eyes. “Mum’s fine. It’s-it’s…” Sobs fill his ear again. He wraps his arms around her and holds her tightly. He hates seeing her like this; such a strong woman reduced to tears….
“My father d-demands that I g-get…” she pauses to take a deep breath. Her eyes well up again. “He wants me to get married.”
Spike frowns as he stares down at her tear stained face. “To who?” He asks through clenched teeth.
“Ryan Walker.” She chokes out.
He bares his teeth at the name. Walker. Her pulls her back to him for reassurance.
“I don’t want to marry him.” She hiccups.
Swallowing, hard, he presses his nose into her hair and takes a long pull of her scent. She always smells of vanilla and something uniquely her. He can very well understand why she wouldn’t want to marry that wanker. About two years ago, he had come over for their customary afternoon ride during the spring and summer mouths, when he had discovered something had made want to kill someone for the very first time in his life.
He had come into the library where she is wont to be in the afternoons and from what he had first thought was a secret couple enjoying a midday tryst. Boy-oh-boy was he wrong. Spike had almost walked out of the room and left them alone when a voice had called out “No” and he instantly recognized that voice. He turned around with rage glazing his eyes.
How are they going to get out of this one? He swallows hard again. “What do you want, Love?” She gives no answer but pulls him closer and buries her face into his chest. Spike swallows hard another time. He looks down at her small body cradle in his lap. She is so small…. He has always needed… “I love you, Buffy,” he whispers.
She pulls away and stares up at him. With his arms still around her, he feels her breathing pick up. Blinking up at him, she stares at him, awed and wondering if this is a dream. “What?”
“I love you,” he says slowly, wanting her to understand, wanting her to know it and return…
“I love you, Spike.” She says quietly. “I’ve loved you for a long time.” Then she freezes. Then has the potently to turn deadly, very quickly. If Walker finds out about this…
The concerns are wiped from her mind when Spike cups her cheek. He slowly starts to lean in. His warm hand cups her cheek and pulls her face closer. He looks her in the eyes and then her lips. She closes her eyes as he closes the distance between them. She gasps when his hot lips cover her cold ones. The contrast is something she never imagined herself feeling.
Such pleasure, the pressure is hard but gentle as he brushes his lips over her mouth. She feels his kiss all the way to her toes, which are curling with a facing tingle that travels her whole being. Who knew such passion could be experienced from just the brush of another’s lips.
Spike takes in a sharp breath; he knew she would be soft, but she surpasses his wildest fantasies. The combine nation of her warmth and softness drive him further. He plays his tongue in the crease of her lips, begging her to open for him, asking her. The arm around her shoulders slides down her back and wraps around her waist, fitting her to him. The hand he holds to her cheek, he lets tunnel into her hair, pulling apart the intricate design her hair had been in.
He rubs the strains between his fingers, enjoying the taste of her, the feel of her warm body against his. Even with all the layers of clothing between them. He pulls her legs across his lap and cradles her in his arms.
Turning to one side, he pulls her under him as he lays her down on the barn floor.
Under his persistent and talented mouth, she opens to him on a sigh. She pulls him down to her, tangling her fingers in his short white blonde hair. He moans against her, feeling her warm body give to the hardness of his, cushioning. He pulls away from her lips briefly, and gasps for air. He smiles down at her when he sees her doing the same.
“You taste like sin,” Buffy whispers with a sweet smile on her lips. Her fingers continue into his hair, massaging his scalp. He returns her gesture by needing her shoulders, releasing whatever tenseness there might be.
“And you taste like heaven,” Spike’s husky whisper brushes over her senses.
She pulls him down and kisses him. Spike groans at her aggressive action. No woman has ever taken such liberties with him; even some of the more racy women he has had acquaintances with. But, even with the pleasure all the pleasure he’s experienced, she surpasses them all. Her sweet, innocent aggression impassions him like nothing ever has.
As they’re inflamed kiss grows, so does their need to explore the other. His hands move down her back, and cup her throw the abundance of material that is her dress; her rear fits perfectly in the palms of his hands. He presses up into her hands as they begin to roam over his back, molding the contours and learning his shape.
He would make her his this night, damn the consequences. He has held back long enough.
Moving his hand back up her sides, he becomes distracted as his fingers tangle in something that isn’t part of Buffy’s dress. He pulls away from her sweet mouth and brings his hand up. Hay? Where did hay come from? Oh yeah, they’re in the barn.
“Buffy,” he says, trying to stop her. He pulls her hands away from him, finding them too much of a distraction. He moans when he feels her warm lips travel up the column of his neck. He pushes himself up and stretches his arms out.
Buffy whimpers at the loss of contact.
“Buffy, if I’m going to love, I’m going to be proper about it.” Spike says as he rolls off of her and gets to his feet. He reaches down and pulls her up next to him, keeping her close.
“We have to wait to get married?” She asks, a whine entering her voice.
He throws his head back and laughs. “No. I mean in a bed. Not on the floor of a barn.”
She looks around then and her face flushes. He smiles. She had forgotten where they were more then he had. “Come, love, lets go to your room.”
A blur later, Buffy finds herself standing next to her four-poster bed with a total stranger. Spike seems to have under gone a change in the time from they’re last kiss to the time that it took them to get to her room. He stands in front of her with the looks of a predator. His usually bright blue eyes have turned black. Has he become angry for some unknown reason?
“Are you angered for some reason?” She asks quietly.
His expression becomes a little perplexed but his eyes remain intense and stare directly at her. “No. Why do ask such a thing?”
She frowns. “You look…” she tries to find the right word. “You look intense.” Poor word for what has suddenly come over him.
Spike suddenly smile at her; a knowing smile. “It’s you, my love.” He says as he removes his vest. “With this new development between us I feel heavy and suddenly hungry.”
She looks surprised. “Should I call a servant?” She asks, her sweet innocence making him smile again. “What?”
He removes his loss shirt and tosses it aside. Her mouth falls open as she stares at him. He’s beautiful. The many candles light around her room lovingly caresses his white skin. He moves toward her then, taking her hand, he places it against his warm chest. “Touch me,” he says, voice has gone husky once more.
She feels a shiver travel out of her body to her extremities.
“Don’t be afraid, love. I’d never hurt you,” he says, mistaking her shutter.
“I know,” she says, running her fingers up his chest. She rests her palms flat against his pectorals.
He reaches out to take the string of her bodice in hand but hesitates. He looks up when Buffy takes his hand and guides it the rest of the way. She smiles up at him. “It’s ok. I want to. I want to know and I want you to show me.”
“Only me,” he says raggedly. He pulls on the string and feels himself harden when the bodice gives and sags invitingly on her small form.
Next they move to taking off her many petticoats. The process is almost as long and drawn out as when she puts them on. Their hands continually bump into the other’s making them laugh. Finally, she is left in her long chemise, which is slightly transparent. He can clearly see the out of her areoles and the dark triangle at the juncture of her tights. Spike’s breath is taken away. He’s never seen a more beautiful sight in his life. He tells her so.
She blushes and ducks her head.
Reaching out, he raises her face with the edge of his hand and looks down at her with adoration shining in his eyes. He leans down and gently captures her mouth. As the kiss deepens, he bends down and lifts her up in his arms. Kneeling on the bed, he lays her down and covers her. When she opens her lips to him, he slants his mouth over hers and deepens the kiss even more, taking her surprised breath into his lungs.
They kiss forever, enjoying the simple pleasure of being in the other’s embrace. They take turns slowly exploring the other’s body, bringing each other to life, to burning embers. She gasps and he breathes in. He moans and she kisses him more. He runs his hands down her body and gathers the chemise in his hands. Slowly, he pulls the material up her body and swiftly takes it off over her head.
Buffy gasps as her bare breasts are exposed to his heated body. Her arms come up around his shoulders and just hold him to her. The feel of his hard chest against her soft is a study in contrasts come to life. As she holds him, he begins to leave kisses along her shoulder and neck. Feeling emboldened as his mouth wonders ever closer to her breasts, she runs her hands down his back and cup his rear through his trousers. The action causes her breasts to slide down his chest. They both moan.
He pulls away from her and moves off the bed.
She looks up at him in question.
He answers her by moving his hand to his trousers and releasing the ties. The material slides down his lean hips and to the floor. He stands there and stares at her. Unsure why he isn’t coming back to her, she can’t help but stare back. He’s staring at her like he’s never seen her before, as if he’s looking at her for the first time in their young lives.
“You’re doing it again, staring at me like you’ve never seen me before?” She asks, slowly starting to feel self-conscious under his heavy stare.
“You’re beautiful,” he says simply as he comes back to her.
He stretches out beside her. He hears her gasp as he presses himself to her. He briefly looks at her before his eyes move down her body. He leans down and kisses the swell of her breast. He raises his free hand to her and slides it along her warm, golden skin. The smooth flesh under his fingertips sends elect shocks to his arousal. She inhales sharply. Then she cries out when his hand is suddenly there, holding and caressing her neglected breast. He smiles widely at the reaction his ministrations garner. His mouth moves down her chest and he catches one of her distended nipples in his lips. Her back rises up off the bed and presses herself more fully into his mouth.
Spike’s eyes widen as she suddenly pushes him over onto his back. “Aggressive little bint, aren’t you?”
Their lovemaking is slow and deep, causing a sheen of sweat to ease their movements, allowing their bodies to glide along the others. Sighs and gut felt moans fill the room with the sounds of lovemaking, along with the smells and sights. Gleaming limbs and entangled bodies slid languidly across the bed, striving for bliss that perfect place where they come together and shatter.
William ‘Spike’ Thompson stands with a straight back in Lord Hank Summers’ office. His holds hands at his back, and keeps his face expressionless. Lord Summers sits behind his desk looking over his ledger before he finally looks up at Spike. He can the contempt is written clearly on the older mans face.
“So Sir Thompson, you wish to marry my daughter?” He doesn’t give Spike the chance to answer but continues with his questions, “You do know that she is already betrothed to another? And that I have already paid out the bride’s price?” The man looks as if he has won something when he has given Spike his opening.
“Yes, Mister Summers. Further more, I’m willing to forego asking for a bride’s price and to go so far as to reimburse you for money already promised and given.” Spike says, staring the older man in the eye. He knows he has the older man where he wants him when a glint comes into his eyes.
“You don’t care that this may cause a scandal?” Lord Summers.
“Miss Summers and my relationship has always been in a scandalous light; it makes no difference now. I ask you again Lord Summers, may I have your daughters hand in marriage?” Spike is starting to get impatient.
“You also realize that her bride’s price was quite considerable?” Lord Summers says, still trying to dissuade him.
“Yes, I realize that, and I also realize that you are going to try and get as much out of me as possible, even tell more then the original amount. I also realize that you were willing to sell your daughter to man that at one time tried to rape her.” Spike says. He has nothing to fear of the older man; to hurt him would to condemn the Summers’ name to banishment in the social circle. “Therefore, I will agree to pay five thousand pounds more then the twenty you paid to Lord Walker if you agree to give her hand in marriage to me.
“Now, Lord Summers, I ask one more time only, will you consent Miss Summers hand in marriage to me?” Spike steps closer to the desk and lays his hands on the old wood. He stares down at the older man.
Spike can see that the old man knew nothing of the attempted rape but he was not humbled in any sense of the word or it’s meaning. “What is your answer sir?” Spike demands after seconds of silence.
“I consent,” Lord Summers agrees finally. Even though the Thompson’s and Summers hardly got along in some inner circles, Spike knows that Lord Summers can’t afford to loss face with his family.
“Fine.” Spike says then stands to his full height. “You will receive your money after the wedding in a fortnight and only after. Do we have an understanding Lord Summers?”
“Yes,” Lord Summers says.
Spike turns and leaves the office. No sooner has he shut the door does he find himself at the receiving end of a warm, hard hug. “You did it,” she whispers in his ear.
“And you were eavesdropping,” Spike teases. “Yes, we are to be wed in a fortnight.” He tilts his head away when she squeals.
Buffy is worried. Shortly after her and Spike’s betrothal was announced, Walker had disappeared.
Their wedding had come upon her faster then she would have ever hopped for and now she is Lady Thompson. She smiles happily. The wedding went off without a hitch and now they celebrate here at the reception.
The two weeks before their wedding, Spike had stolen away every night to spend with her, in her bed. They would make love most of the night and spend the rest of the time either napping or talking as they usually had.
Buffy moves around the large dinning hall, quickly excusing herself from any conversation people tried to start with her. She looks around the room, trying to spot his distinct head of hair. She frowns when she can’t find him.
Suddenly, she lets out a small cry when someone grabs her sides. She turns to find her husband smiling down at her. “You pig, don’t do that.” She whispers, making sure no one is watching.
“Why, they can’t say anything anymore. You’re mine.” Spike says with a naughty gleam in his eye.
She smiles. “Yes. You’re right. They can’t say anything. So, what say you to leaving?” She leans up and whisper in his ear.
A smile breaks across his face. “So early? People will talk,” he says, not sounding worried at all.
“They have always talked about us. Let them continue.” She says as she slips her hand into his larger one.
“As you wish my Lady.” Spike says. He turns and whistles.
Only seconds later, a small lad runs up to them breathlessly. “Yes, Sir Thompson.”
“My lady is tired. Ready the carriage, please.” Spike says as he pulls a couple toppens from his waistcoat and hands them to the boy.
The boy brightens at the gesture. Almost bouncing with happiness, he shines a smile up at Spike and says “Yes Sir. Right a way Sir.”
Bundled up tightly, they duck their heads as they go out into the cold. They run to their carriage and hastily get in to settle in their seats. Spike wraps his arms around her shoulders and draws her close for warmth.
"Thank you," she says.
"For what? I'm just trying to warm myself up." Spike says with all seriousness. He turns his head away from her view. He grunts. "Don't hit so hard." He says, rubbing his stomach.
"On, poor baby." Buffy says.
"Don't mock me," he says playfully, acting as if he were going to pull away.
She grabs him by the neck and pulls him in close. "Not mocking, just pity," she laughs. Then as he scoffs, she pulls him in the rest of the way and silences him with a deep kiss.
He briefly pulls away. "Pity is good." He says then returns to her mouth.
"Love you," she says as they part for breath. She willingly goes with him as he pulls her across his lap. She reclines in his arms and stares up at him.
"And I love you," he says as he leans down and retakes her mouth.
"I wish . . .we were home." She gasps between long wet kisses.
He trails open-mouthed kisses down her neck. "Soon, love, soon." He continues down her chest to the swell of her breasts. He opens his mouth further and draws hard on her flesh, wishes he could take her nipple inside him.
Framing his face in her hands, she pulls him up and they devour each other, so desperate for each other. She tries to mover closer to him as his hand moves up her inner thigh.
His fingers just brush her core…
Then they're on the floor of the carriage. She whimpers in protest when her head hits the opposite bench. Spike raises himself up from the folds of her dress where his face had landed. He looks around a little bewildered.
However, she misses the expression with her disappointment. "What did you do that for?" She asks indignantly.
"I didn't do it. The carriage stopped abruptly," he says. He gets to his feet. As he is helping her to her feet, the loudest pop she had ever heard sounds through the now quiet night.
"Stay here," says Spike as he grabs his sword from the floorboards. Before Buffy can protest, Spike jumps from the carriage and has the door shut.
Silence deafens her as she tries to find any sign that Spike is all right. The seconds stretch into minutes, which turn into eternity. Every once in awhile, she thinks she hears the clang of swords. As she listens to nothing but phantom noises she thinks that loud sounds and yelling would be better then this eerie silence.
Then the door opens and Spike steps into view. She sighs in relief. She flings herself into his arms. She tries to quill them but her sob of relief and terror escape. "I was so scared." Buffy sobs into his shoulder.
"It's ok, love, but we best be leaving. One ran off into the woods." He says as he moves away and takes her hand. He helps her out of the carriage. Spike smiles at her then turns back to the carriage only for a second. He reaches for her shawl….
He hears her gasp then say that damned name. "Walker?"
He begins to turn and reaches for her but it's too late. "No," he cries. It's too late. Walker has pulled the trigger. "No," he cries again, his voice harsh.
The impact of the bullet in her small body throws her back into Spike. They fall back into the carriage. Spike cries out, tears blurring his vision. He moves her onto the floor of the carriage. He doesn't even have to search her; the bullet wound is plain to see. The bullet has entered right over her heart. There's nothing he can do.
Her wet rough voice reaches his ears. "Spike…"
Looking up, he doesn't even try to hide his sorrow, his tears flowing down his face. "Shh, don't talk. You'll be fine." He says, trying to sound convincing.
"Pe-people always say that," she remarks, a slight smile curving her lips.
He tires to return the smile but fails. Her hand comes up to cup his cheek. She smiles sadly at him. "It's ok. I got to love you… Give me a kiss, please, to take with me?"
"Shh," he says, not wanting to hear about her demise from her own lips. He leans down and gently presses his lips to her cooling ones. He pulls back to find their tears mingling on her cheeks.
"I love you Spike."
"I love you…" Her hand falls from his face. "Buffy?" he feels his heart die as the light fades from her eyes. "No," he whispers, his head tilting to one side with the pain that rips through him. His stomach rolls with the knowledge that echoes through him. "No," he says louder.
He reaches up and cups her cheek. "No," his voice rising to a yell. He suddenly jumps away from her and out of the carriage.
As time passes, the sounds of Spike being sick dissipate. The night slowly drifts by in silence; the woods and the creatures in it are restless with the smell of death.
Soon, another figure joins the still one on the floorboards. A moan of pain echoes from the larger of the two figures. As he slowly drifts into an exhausted sleep, he reaches out and pulls his love close.
The hour's pass and night slowly starts to fade into morning. As the first rays of sun rise over the horizon, Spike takes one last breath and slowly releases it.
Part Two (Amour) 1720 -
“Too slow… more,” Buffy demands through a moan as he moves to cover her.
“Don’t rush me,” Spike says, his voice muffled by her breast.
When he settles between her thighs, into the cradle of her pelvis, they moan. Skin against skin and manhood to womanhood. Buffy gasps as she feels him press, throbbing hard and warm, into her core. Her hips rise off the bed to receive him, greedily taking him in.
Heat pluses from her breast, which is encased in his mouth. In a vague sense, she wonders if this is how it feels for him, being encased in her sheath. The wet heat, the gentle pulling and squeezing then he laps his tongue over her distended nipple and all thought is lost.
Spike wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her closer. The warmth of her urges him on, driving him to move deeper and marginally faster. Her sheath around him is like a heat compress on a sweetly aching joint, but so much sweeter. Even having just that small amount (not that small) in her, feels as if he had dipped his whole body into her. She feels like more and he could have a lot more of her.
Leaving the temptation of her breasts, he comes up onto his elbows and looks down into her glazed eyes. It’s always the most beautiful sight he’s seen. He leans down and runs the tip of his tongue along her bottom lip. He smiles and groans when her nails bite into his back and her hips jump up into his.
“Spike . . .” He leans down and silences her. His tongue plunges into her and licks the roof of her mouth. As he pulls away, she suckles his tongue.
The hanging bed sways with the movements of the ship and their bodies. In turn, encasing them in their own world of movement and sensation.
“Spike,” her hands move over his shoulders. Occasionally, she claws at him.
“Yes,” he groans. “Love?”
Buffy leans up and runs her tongue along the length of his collarbone. Salty goodness. She smiles as she pulls away. “Deeper.”
Pulling away, he climbs to his knees and catches her hips in his hands. Her legs naturally wrap around his waist. He strokes in and out of her a couple of times. Watching himself move in and out of her is almost his undoing. He hisses. “How’s that?”
“Deeper,” she bites her lips as she watches him.
Again, almost his undoing.
He trails one hand down her breast as he starts to pull out of her. His progress is stopped when she locks her legs around him. He chuckles.
“No,” she whispers, frowning up at him.
He smiles. “Come on, love.” Still, she doesn’t move. His smile turns mischievous. He reaches out and gently lays his hand on her hip. Buffy’s frown disappears. That’s when he strikes. He tickles her. As he knew she would, she turns on to her stomach with a squeal.
Quickly, he covers her, pinning her to the mattress. His erection finds a home in the crevice between her butt cheeks. He thrusts against her, once.
“You tricked me.” Her voice is breathless.
“Bet your sweet ass I did.” His husky voice rumbles low next to her ear. “Now, hand me one of those pillows and push the rest to the floor.”
He takes the pillow and folds it in half. “Lift your hips… That’s it.” He puts the pillow under her and once again covers her.
With no preamble, he once again enters her, driving as deep as he can. “How about this, deep enough for you?” He adjusts her hips on the pillow a little and slides into her just that much.
She arches into him on a moan. “Prefect.”
“Glad to hear it.” He starts to move in her once more.
Pleasure spreads through their bodies like heat. Sweat beads and rolls on their skin, making it so that they glide against each other. Her small, rounded rear fits into his pelvis as if made for him.
He can feel her straining for her release. Anything, just the slightest change in movement or rhythm and they would find their release. Because is she finds her release, he finds his.
He freeing one of her hands and trails it down the side of her body. Moving around to her mound, he just lets his hand rest there, gaining pleasure from just feeling her move with him. Then he delves two fingers in between her swollen nether lips and parts them, letting the air touch the wetness there.
Within seconds, she’s crying out her release, and giving him praise as she screams his name. With his release, he feels the sensation of heat gushing from him and into her.
They collapse to the bedding.
Minutes later, their breathing comes back to normally, and they lay facing each other. Their legs and arms are entangled. Buffy stretches up and nibbles on his bottom lip. He kisses her in return.
“That was fantastic, love.” He murmurs into her hair.
“It always is.” She wraps her arms around his chest and snuggles closer.
“That it is,” he agrees and tightens his hold on her.
A loud bomb has them jerking apart and up in the bed as the sound rumbles through the air. From far away, they hear the cry “We’re under siege.”
“Bloody hell,” Spike growls as he jumps from the bed and begins throwing his clothes on and hers to her.
“That damn Borty found us.” He hears Buffy grumble behind him.
Dressed, he grabs his musket and sword then turns to face Buffy. "Ready, love?" He eyes her attire. She has leather trouser and a white blouse on. In the waistband of the trousers are numerous muskets and a sword.
She comes to stand inches away from him. "As I'll ever be. You?"
"I'm more worried about you." He reaches out and cups her cheek. "Be careful, love."
"Always." She whispers as she leans up and kisses him. As she pulls away, a wide smile lightens her beloved face. "Now, lets go kill us some Borty men." She turns and heads to the door.
"Right behind you."
The two decks of the ships' are chaos of clashing bodies, clanging metal, and gusts of smoke from muskets. Borty's men are many and heavily armed.
Borty, the bastard son of a king is now the legal heir to the throne. Buffy, Elizabeth Summers, is the daughter of a powerful lord in the south of England. Borty had fancied himself her beau from the moment they meet.
Spike charges into the fray, splitting his attention in two: on the battle at hand and on his love.
Borty had chased her after she had run. That was, when she had learned that her father, Lord Summers, had given her hand in marriage to Borty, she had fled. After she had run, she had come to him. He who had been nothing but a captain on one of Summers's many vessels.
Spike takes to the battle like the vessel beneath his feet takes to the water. Men fall under his blade, and are knocked down by the blast of his musket.
Not having much to offer or choices in the matter, Spike had turned to piracy. It was the only way of escape at the time and it wasn't much of an escape. Borty had dogged them every step of the way.
A week earlier, Spike had found a rat among his crew. The bastard had been digging them a hole and filling it with his gold. He had quickly discovered Davy Jones Locker.
His thoughts come back to the battle. He and his crew, he realizes, are winning the war.
A man comes running at him, blade raised and yelling a war cry. Spike stands his ground as the man continues to come at him. As the man's blade lowers, Spike's blade blocks the blow and strikes him in the gut with a fist. Even before the man realizes that, not only did Spike catch him in the gut but a dagger had been in his fist.
Spike walks across his deck, watching as the last few of Borty's men are either being taken down or being subdued. He had been sure that he had gotten to the rat before he had gotten word to Borty, but…
"Captain Graham?" A deep, rough voice calls behind him.
Whirling, Spike comes around to find Borty standing but a yard away. The man is burly with a baldhead and a beard on his jaws. "Borty."
"No manners. I address you by the correct title and yet you don't afford me the same courtesy." Borty looks around as if the answer is on one of the many faces no watching.
"You're not deserving of such." Spike searches the crew. When he spots her golden locks and meets her worried gaze, he feels himself relax. She's fine.
His attention comes back to Borty when the movement of his arm catches his eye. His eyes widen for there's naught he can do. Borty has his musket trained on him. He catalogs his weapons and feels a surge of adrenaline race through his veins. Borty would have a shot off before Spike had even raised his arm to throw his sword. And his musket is empty as his powder bag.
A loud explosion sounds and white-gray smoke rises from the deck.
He looks down at his body. There's nothing. He looks back at Borty. The man has dropped his musket and is looking at his chest. Three bleeding bullet wounds mark his chest. Borty is just looking up as he falls to the deck of the ship.
Before the event has registered for him, Spike's arms are full of Buffy. He sighs, closing his arms around her, and swinging her in a circle. She raises her head and before she can say anything, his mouth descends on hers.
The crew roars. They're free, after ten years of running, they're finally free.
Buffy leans her head on his shoulder. "Lets go celebrate." She whispers in his ear.
He smiles wolfishly. "Love to," he says as he lets her lead him to their cabin.
A loud pop sounds off in the distance. He turns to see where it had come from to find Borty falling back to the deck. The musket falls from the bastard's hand. He turns back to find Buffy staring at his chest in horror. He frowns as his eyes fall to his chest. His eyes widen as a red stain spreads rapidly over his white shirt.
From far off, he hears a scream. He looks up to find the tear-stained face of his love. A sad smile crosses his face before blackness engulfs him.
Buffy wakes with a smile on her face. They'd finally beaten that rat bastard. He would bother them no more.
The first time she had meet Spike it had been on a voyage to Greece. Her father had sent her away because he had had important business to attend in London and he didn't want her to be bored. On first sight, she knows that they had lusted after each other. It had set them both on edge, and for a good portion of the voyage, they had done nothing but fight.
After weeks of keeping this up, an accident had happened, almost taking her life. Then, they had realized that it was stupid and petty to be so afraid of something that, obviously, their bodies recognized.
The holiday to Greece and back had sealed their relationship. They had met secretly after their return, for a year, then Borty had come into their lives and they had been chased by him ever since.
Her and Spike had always loved the sea. Instead of running inland, where there was more sharks then angels, they had choose the sea and piracy. She had never looked back. She knows that Spike always wonders if she is ever left wanting. But she couldn't ask for more. She's with the man she loves.
Now, now, they're free of Borty…
With a shinning smile on her face, she rolls onto her back and then to her left side, wanting to share her happiness and desire with him, her love…
The breath slams out of her body when the memory stabs her in the heart. He's gone.
His still, lifeless body lies in evidence of that fact right next to her.
She swallows thickly. Tears fill her eyes and burn the back of her throat. She tries to breath but her chest is incapable of the function; her chest just heaves.
A sob bursts from her lips as she buries her face in his shoulder. "No."
Fiddling with his tie, William walks down the street, tears on his cheeks. He had loved her and she had torn him down like he was nothing. He loved her and she told him that he was beneath her.
He vows that will never happen again.
Looking behind him, he sniffles as he quickly turns back, thanking the heavens above that the streets were desolate. Pulling out the scrape of paper that holds his desires, he tears it to ribbons.
Turning down an alley, he stops suddenly when a tall, dark woman steps into his path. She's the most exotic looking creature he's ever seen. She has long black hair and dress to go with. He feels a thrill run through his body when he notices that she doesn't wear all the petticoats that the ton find so fashionable.
A frown creases Spike's brows. He lies sprawled on his back, one arm under Drusilla. His head turns from side to side, sweat beads on his forehead, and he groans every few minutes. His sleep is restless, and … dreamless.
A pain hits his chest…
Spike bolts up in the large bed. His eyes wildly search the darken room. His vampire eyes see nothing but the still bodies of the family that used to inhabit his and Drusilla's new house. He hesitantly looks at her side of the bed. He feels no relief when he sees her still asleep.
His chest feels empty. He has a strong urge to be somewhere else… His eyes return to Dru. Or with someone else.
The thought of relieving himself of his Black Goddess is fleeting and drives him from their bed. The feelings from his sleep persist as he moves around the house.
The first couple weeks since her return had been hectic. The demon gang the first night she was resurrected, then there was that whole problem with the sun not coming up, and then those annoying little things, like the bank robbery and that demon messing up her job at Xander's work. Then there's that damn pipe in the basement.
And all while patrolling and trying to take care of a sixteen-year-old girl.
Spike can't admire her more, although, he's sure he will in the future. The woman, as dumb as it may sound, is the energizer bunny. She keeps going and going. He just knows that when she gets home at night that she collapses onto her bed, exhausted. He just wishes he could be there to rub the aches and pains away. Besides, if he were able to be there, she wouldn't be out as late away.
He sighs.
"Did you say something?" Buffy asks quietly.
As their usual, they're out on their nightly patrol through one of the many cemeteries of Sunnydale. It seems to be one of the quieter ones tonight. It's a welcome change of pace from the last couple of weeks, that's for sure.
"No, love." Spike says absently.
If they were together, he'd be talking her into going home right now. And once he had her home, he'd slowly take their clothes off and …
"You seem kind of distant tonight. Something wrong?" Her voice breaks into his fantasy.
"Wrong?" He repeats. "No, just quiet to night, I suppose."
A look of surprised delight comes to her face. "Spike? At a lack of words?" She says in a dramatically surprised voice. "You aren't sick are you?" She teases.
"Only in the head," he replies with all seriousness. But quickly ruins it by grinning. They both laugh.
"I'll have to agree with you on that one." Buffy says.
"Hey." He says, playfully indignant.
They smile at each other. Then continue on their walk through the cemeteries.
This is how it had become over the past weeks. They would meet up either at the Magic Box or on patrol. Whether she knows it or not, they're friends now.
Buffy slumps into her chair, feeling the past couple of weeks like a ton of bricks on her back. In some ways, she's grateful that she's been so busy. It keeps her mind off other . . . things. Like heaven for one and Spike for anther. Spike…
Things have changed between them, so slowly at first that she hadn't noticed until last night on patrol.
"Hey love," Spike's voice pulls her around. "You ready for patrol?"
"Yeah, just let me get some things."
The both head off to the training room, missing the looks, the stares that follow them, and the very whispered comments that quiet as soon as the two reappear.
The door to his crypt suddenly flies open, causing Spike to sharply look up. His frown deepens as quiet quickly follows, except for the TV. When it's suddenly switched off, he jerks to his feet. Walking out and away from his chair, he says something full of bravado, not really paying attention. He jerks around when something brushes/pushes up against him.
His eyes widen when he's suddenly thrown against the wall. With his arms pinned and his shirt left open, he feels exposed. What the hell…
Then his mouth falls open and his head turns to the side when he suddenly feels a hot, wet tongue slide up his chest, shock and desire pool low in his stomach. He inhales sharply. His eyes snap open at the scent. It couldn't be, can it? But only one woman has that smell…
"Buffy?" He asks incredulously, but pleased. He feels bereft when she pulls away.
"How did you know it was me?" He can just imagine the little pout she would have on her sweet face right about now.
"Your smell. What happened to ya, pet?" He asks when he steps away from the wall.
Holding Sam's hand, his wife, Riley slowly looks around at the group and notices one thing. And it doesn't settle very well with him. Everyone else notices and hasn't said anything. Or they have and they've settled it. His eyes return to his problem.
Buffy and Spike are sitting too close together, on the couch. They're talking quietly. They're turned toward each other and Spike has his arm on the back of the couch behind Buffy. He says something and she lights up as she laughs. Riley frowns when he notices something else that doesn't settle very well.
Sure, he's seen Spike smile before. But never like this. This, Riley realizes, this is a smile of happiness. It's not evil or mischievous like the other ones he's seen. Something is going on. But as he continues to quietly observe them as the other's talk about the demon, he notices something more. They're not even aware of the undercurrents that are taking place. Well, Buffy isn't.
Riley has also had a sneaking and sinking feeling that Spike's more intelligent them he lets on.
They're in the Magic Box when he finally decides to tell her. It's time, long past time.
"Buffy, I'm leaving." He says quietly.
She looks up at him. "Ok, see ya later." She returns to the books on the shelves.
"No love." He only continues when she looks at him. "I don't think you understand. I'm leaving Sunnydale."
She frowns. "When will you be back?"
"I don't know, if ever." He quietly looks at her.
Her frown deepens, which means only one thing. His meaning is finally sinking in and she's not liking what she's hearing. "Why?"
"I need to. There's many reasons, none of which really matter by themselves but…"
"Don't talk around the question, Spike." Buffy says. She is not liking him right now.
"Because, love." He runs his hand over his hair, feeling awkward. "I feel restless. Unsure. I just need to leave."
"I don't buy that for a minute." She glares up at him.
"Well, believe what you will." He says as he turns and starts for the door. "I'm leaving anyway. There's nothing here for me. Sorry, Bit."
She gives him a sad smile.
"You can't leave."
"Watch me, love. Can and will. And I'm doing. Right now." He steps up the one stair at the front of the shop and turns.
"But… but you said you'd help me with the nerds." She says with a little whine entering her voice.
Anger carries him across the room to her. "Straws, love. You're grasping at straws. Those boys are nothing. You can take them without breaking a nail."
"But you can't leave."
His face softens as he looks down at her sad one. It's tearing him apart, doing this. But there's no other way. He has to do this, so he can give her what she deserves. "Can you give me one good reason to stay?"
Silence followings in the minutes that come after as his question hangs in the air. He turns and leaves the Magic Box. It hurt that she can't, but, deep down, he has the feeling that it's for the best that nothing happened between them.
His motorcycle kicks up dust as he speeds out of Sunnydale.
Part Four (Breathe) 2010 - Post "Chosen"
"Dear Buffy, just writing to let you know how things are going at school…"
Her mind drifts as Dawn starts writing about her newest boyfriend. It seems Dawn has a surplus of males at her school, each one with just what she wants in a boyfriend: new, cute and right-now. Of course, Buffy doesn't want any details of any short. And thankfully, Dawn has been kind enough to leave out the juicy ones.
"I still miss him…"
At times, she could kill Dawn for putting that line at the end of each of her letters. Usually, the line sets her on edge. But today, the line just puts her in a melancholy mood. Even after seven years of him being gone, she still misses just as much as she did after the shook had wore off.
When he had left and not come back for so many months, she had thought he would never come back. It had been a relief and heartache to find him in the new high school basement.
At times, she had almost broken down when they were fighting the First. But somehow, something always managed to bring her spirit back. Close to the end, it had been him, helping her. As it used to be and should have always been.
Now, she's busy helping Giles and all the new slayers. In some ways, she's glad to be ride of 'The Chosen One' title. In another, she can't help feel she's lost something of herself to all these girls.
Spike comes into Angel's office, looking for a file Fred wants. His eyes scan over the big cherry wood desk that dominates the otherwise spacious office. A small envelope with very familiar handwriting catches his attention. A frown creases his brow.
Walking closer to the desk, he picks the envelope up. His eyes take in the return address and the postmark. Two days ago. That bastard. The envelope and its contents are crushed in his closing fist. With a glare that could kill, he turns his head and looks over his shoulder at the door. At the same moment, Angel chooses to come into the office.
"Spike." Angel's usual monotone, one word greeting.
Today, however, Spike doesn't give his usual come back. Spike. If Angel had been paying more attention to second resident vampire, he would've realized that something is brewing.
Turning his back on Spike, Angel looks over the files and folders laying spread over the large converse desk at the other end of the office. The cases of the week bury the table under pounds of paper, so much so, that the tabletop has disappeared. His thoughts are interrupted when he feels his elbow connect with something solid; something hadn't been there previously.
Angel turns. A glare immediately darkens his features when he sees Spike standing there, right next to him. "Back up, Spike."
In the coldest, and most detached voice, Angel has ever heard come from Spike, he says, "You had no right." The flash of a pale fist and then engulfing blackness welcomes Angel with open arms.
Spike looks indifferently down at Angel's unconscious body. "Always knew you were a selfish bastard."
Stepping over the older vampire, he makes his way out of the office. On his way through the lobby, he crosses paths with Wesley. "You haven't seen Angel, have you?"
"Said he was a little knackered. I think he's taking a nap."
Wesley frowns but before he can question him further, Spike keeps moving. In good time, Spike starts to sing 'Singing in the Rain.' As he walks to the elevator, Lorne passes him.
Lorne stops suddenly and turns around to watch Spike board the elevator. Spike smiles and waves, singing louder. Lorne can't help but shake his head.
Sleep is elusive, which doesn't surprise her. The same thing has been happening for the past few weeks. The First has a way of changing things. She has taken to sleeping in the basement with Spike. She is able to sleep here, to relax, and be with Spike; something they both need. This way, they both know that the other is safe and close.
Most nights, they lay silently, holding each other, and giving comfort. But some nights, they play with the fire that burning between them. They would play their lips across the others and loosely hold each other. Tonight, however, Spike had been tired for a change and fallen quickly asleep. Buffy lays awake and staring at the floorboards of the upper floor.
Spike turns and rolls toward the wall, and ends up on his back. She looks at him over her shoulder and gazes at him. He's such a beautiful man. He should be outlawed.
Rolling to her side, she swings her legs off the bed and stands. She silently pads to the window high up on the basement wall. She absently stares at the blue-silver light coming through the small opening.
After she realized that Spike had needed more help then just some place to stay, she had turned cleaning the basement into a project for her and Spike. At first, he had tried to get out of it.
"Oh," he had said, once he had realized what she wanted to do. He'd tried to act casual, shrugging his shoulder. "Sure." She had smiled and shook her head.
A flash of light splits the room in half…
When the glare of blinding light clears, an under ground battlefield is revealed. The battleground is littered with piles of dust and the dead bodies of the fallen. The cavern roll with vibrations and rubble falls to the stone floors. The people left standing begin to make their exit. Two people are left as the cavern beings it's final fall.
Spike looks at the return address and then back up at the house. It's a nice flat on the edge of town; close to the country but far enough away from the crush of the city. It may be a clean city but the cleanness has nothing on the amount of people it contains. "No wonder why I left London." He mutters as he walks up the path and onto the porch with barely a glance at the rest of his surroundings. He has only one purpose for being here. "Somebody bloody well better be home."
He raises his fist and knocks on the wood door. He waits a second and is about to pound on the door until he gets someone up when the door is opened. His trademark smile comes to his full lips when the person on the other side is revealed. Red stands inside the house with wide eyes and mouth open.
"Surprise, surprise, I can see it in your eyes." He singsongs.
Still, she stands there with this look of surprise and shock on her pretty face. It isn't a shocker to him. "Spike?"
"Last time I checked."
"You're alive."
"Undead actually, but thanks." He smiles. She always was a sweet little bird. "Is Buffy here?" He becomes serious.
Willow blinks owlivishly. "She doesn't know, does she?"
"No. But I'd like to surprise her."
She nods her head adamantly. "Of course."
Spike's head tilts forward as he chuckles. "Red? A little help?" He says as he taps on the invisible field keeping him out of the house.
"Oh, yes." She steps back to allow him more room. "Come in." She invites. "She's in her room. Last door at the end of the hall." She points down a long hall.
"Thanks ducks."
Like the outside, he doesn't pay attention to the details of his surroundings. Those things can come later, after. As he begins the trek down the hall, he sees a familiar face. "Kennedy." He inclines his head.
"Spike." She returns. They pass each other. He continues down to Buffy's room. His hand is just curling around the doorknob when her hears, "Spike?" He chuckles quietly as he enters the dark room.
With the door closed behind him, he spots a small figure on a large bed in the center of the room. He frowns as he notices her head tossing from side to side. A moan escapes her lips. He quickly comes to the side of the bed and leans over her.
Sweat beads on her forehead and the sheets and blankets are twisted around her thighs and torso. One of her arms fling up and over her head. A whimper issues from her parted lips.
He reaches out and gently grips her shoulder and shakes her. He continues to softly shake her as he calls her name. "Buffy. Buffy, love, wake up. Nightmares are no good for anyone." He leans over her and presses his cool lips to her burning forehead and lingers there for a few seconds. Spike pulls back slightly. "Come on, wake up, love."
Her eyes come open to reveal glazed orbs. Her frantic gaze searches his face for seconds, minutes even. He smiles at her. As she come awake, her hands had come up and claimed a death grip on his arms. Now, her clawed fingers relax as she continues to search his face.
In the next few seconds, she has found what she's looking for. She pulls him down and crushes her mouth to his, forcing-and he uses the word loosely-him to accept her kiss. Still, she isn't satisfied with that for she pulls him down and onto the bed with her.
"Oh, Spike, you're real."
"Of course, love." He leans back into her. He settles fully into her embrace as she wraps her arms around his shoulders.
"How long have you been back?" Buffy plays her lips along his jaw line.
He tilts his head to give her better access. "Seven years." His anger seeps into his words. "The bastard told me he didn't know where you were."
Buffy pushes him up so that she can look into his eyes. "Bastard?"
"Peaches." He clarifies.
"Angel? He didn't tell me you were… I'm going to kill him…"
"Wait your turn." He mumbles before he kisses her hard on the mouth.
Spike moves up onto her, his hands pulling her close. As he does, Buffy's hands tug on his coat, and between the two of them, they get his coat off and onto the floor. Buffy tires to wrap her legs up and around his waist but something stops her.
In frustration, they pull away from each other and look down at the blankets. With some pulling and tugging, they're able to untangle her from the coverings. They pull each other together at the same time. Smiling, they lean into the others embrace and kiss. Buffy's hands work on Spike's shirt as his mouth trails down her neck.
"Clothes are so not good in this situation." She grumbles against his shoulder. "But that feels good." For at that moment, Spike's cool hands are running up the length of her thighs and over her hips. She bites her bottom lip as his fingers brush over her bare core. She hears him gasp.
"Nothing under the shirt?"
She nods her head. "Nothing."
This time she hears him groan.
Her pleasure soon turns into annoyance, as she's still not able to get his shirt off him. "Spike," she says tugging on his shirt.
He chuckles as he pulls back. He smiles down at her. Raising his hands, he slowly unbuttons his shirts as his gaze continues to pursue her body. She's the most beautiful thing he's seen in the last seven years. As he comes to the last button on his shirt, Buffy become restless and starts to wiggle. Her hands come down and she pulls at the hem of her shirt. She shimmies the thing up and over her head in a few seconds. With her bare beneath him, he pulls his shirt off his arms and throws it off onto the floor. Not being able to wait any longer, he lays over her again.
They both moan at skin-to-skin contact.
"You didn't undress all the way." Buffy complains.
"All in good time, love." His reply sounds husky, even to his ears.
He quickly moves down her body to the apex of her thighs. He inhales sharply at the sent of her. He pleasures her with his mouth, enjoying the taste, smell and feel of her. The sounds of her pleasure guide him to where she needs him. He plays his tongue over her through her lips and over her clit. Then pushes two fingers into her, quickly, catching her off guard, and then slowly pulls them back out. And quickly thrust them back into her wet core. As he drives his fingers into repeatedly, he somehow manages to remove his pants.
Her climax is leaving her body as he moves up to lay over her once again. She surprises him by rising up and claiming his lips. When she slowly pulls back, he smiles at the dreamy expression on her face. "Enjoy that, did you?"
"Uh-huh," she breathes. Her arms wrap around his shoulders as she rubs her cheek over his shoulder. "You got undressed. When did that happy?"
He chuckles. "Somewhere between 'No more,' and 'don't stop.'" He laughs fully at the indignant look that she throws his way. "I appreciated the sentiment."
"You would," she says.
He smiles. His right hands slid up her thigh and under her knee. He pulls it close and then over his hip. The heel of her foot settles in the crevice made by his buttocks and thighs, giving him a shudder of pleasure. Her hand lowers to the butt cheek left uncovered by her ankle. He leans down and runs his tongue over the seam of her lips; she opens her mouth and suckles his tongue in.
His right hand moves up her arm and pulls it off his shoulder until their fingers intertwine. His free hand caresses the side of her face. He pulls his hips back and thrust into her with no further delay. Their mouths come open as they moan into the others' mouth and then their lips seal together.
The air that had been rushing in and out of Spike's lungs stops at the velvety feel of her inner channel. He feels the control on desire to pound into her slip, causing him to pause in his actions.
Buffy's arm come up and wraps around Spike's neck, dragging him closer, wanting him to be deeper in her.
They move together, finding a rhythm, they move to accommodate the other's needs before they have to voice them. Spike's mouth moves down her neck to her chest. He stops his mouths downward descent to admire her tanned, gleaming breasts. The two mounds are swollen from the constant abrasion of his chest brushing across her. "How do you keep that tan in this London whether?" His voice sounds grave and is barely recognizable.
"Huh?" Buffy turns her head away from his shoulder where she had been nibbling on his flesh. "Um, tanning salon."
Spike's reply is lost around her breast, which her had taken into his mouth just as she began to answer. He begins to suckle deeply on her as her right leg comes up and tangles with his. Her nipple hardens further in the cool-heat of his mouth, helped by the scrap of his teeth, and the soothing sensation of his tongue.
Buffy isn't able to last long, and is soon calling out her release as he hits that elusive G-spot. "Mmm, I'm sorry, sorry," she pants as she lays her head on his shoulder. She feels him jerk in her embrace and then he thrust softly twice more.
"Sorry, what are you sorry about?" For a vampire, he sounds strangely winded.
"It's been so long. And you didn't… I didn't feel you… And your still…" She stumbles as she tries to find the right wording.
Spike pulls back to look at her. "I didn't?" He raises an eyebrow. Then it suddenly dawns on him what she's referring to. He smiles and gives her a soft kiss. "Love, men can climax without ejaculating. For vampires, it means we have even more stamina then if human men don't."
Her lovely mouth forms a large 'O'. His smile widens.
Minutes later, Spike is spread out on his back with his arm wrapped around her shoulders as she cuddles into his side. He rolls his head close to her and kisses the top of her head. "We didn't do that too fast, ya think?"
"No, just right." Buffy says. He can hear the smile in her voice.
"Yes, love, but what I mean is…"
"No, it was seven years too late."
He breathes a sigh of relief. "Good."
"Spike?" Her voice is quiet.
"Yes, love?"
"What happens tomorrow?" Her voice is tentative.
He thinks for a bit on that question. By her tentative tone, he can take one of two ways. Either, she doesn't want more then happened tonight, or she has fears about what her friends are going to say. Finally, he settles for, "That's tomorrow. We still haven't finished tonight."
He feels the slight nod of her head. "I love you, Buffy." He whispers into her hair.
"I know." She looks up at him and kisses him softly. "I love you, too."