Sang et Ivoire

By Holly

Chapter Forty-Five

She saw him. They saw each other.

She saw and knew. There was no debate. No inner war. He didn't have to speak. Didn't have to verify. She saw him and knew. Knew without question.

And she smiled.

"Spike."

At that moment, there were no words to illustrate the inexpressible feeling of transitory bliss that tackled every somnolent nerve in his worn body. She recognized him. What an extraordinary feeling. Unable to stop himself, Spike reached forward, bringing her to him, kissing her ephemerally before pulling her into an embrace that would suffocate a lesser individual.

Then he felt her tense as surges of realization stiffened her previously sate muscles. His eyes fell shut in grim warning. He knew it was too good to be true. Exhaling a deep breath, he consigned tightly to himself and pulled away, meeting her gaze beat for beat.

The smile was gone. She implored him without words, searching for something that was not there. The power of silence was overwhelming at times.

Reality stepped in. It was unwelcome here.

"Spike," she said again, rolling the name on her tongue, searching for a flavor.

With an indignant huff, he nodded, pulling back. "Right," he agreed, running a hand through his hair. "So sorry to disappoint, luv. I-"

"What happened?" There was no hint of accusation in her tone. Pure and simple questioning. Then her eyes widened as wave after wave of recollection swept inward, and she dissolved. "Oh God," she gasped. "I... are... I..."

"'S simple, really." The platinum vampire pulled out of reach completely, maneuvering to his feet with deeper acknowledgment. "Came down to-"

"You had to do it, didn't you?" Her eyes were flooding with tears, each piercing his heart with raw retribution. "When... the demon... I remember him saying that I had to want it, too. Oh my God, Will..."

Every last nerve seared with irritation. "Yeh. So sad. Sorry, luv. I-"

"I can't believe you did that."

"Well, what was I gonna do?" he retorted. "Couldn't let you very well remain that bloody broken bitch, could I? You'd never forgive me." He frowned. "Assumin', of course, I found another way to bring you back." When he finally met her eyes again and did not reflect the disgust he was so accustomed to, his harsh frontage crumpled without any further provocation. "Had to do it, you see? It was more important for you to 'ave one than me."

Buffy bit her lip, looking away. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I didn't mean for... that-"

"'Ey, no tears, luv. We're both still undead an' everythin' with you's right as rain." Spike studied her cautiously. "Listen, I did what I said I'd do. I went to the other side of the world an' fought to get you back. Any ponce woulda done the same after they saw what you were goin' through."

"You gave up your soul for me." There was nothing beyond astonishment in her voice.

He frowned. The lack of hostility surged him with beats of unguided hope. He couldn't presume to think everything was going to be all right, but she had yet to demand his absence. "Yeh. I think we've covered that."

"I can't believe it." Buffy shook her head. "I'm so sorry."

"Now, tha's the second time you've said that." When he was comfortable that she wasn't going to kick him out of the room, he drew in a breath and reclaimed his seat at the foot of the bed. He was weary of anything further. "What on earth do you got to be sorry for?"

She looked at him as though he had suddenly spawned another head. "If I... you... you fought for yours. And mine. I..." Her eyes fixed loosely on the tear in his shirt. There had not been time enough to change in his hurry, and the impression of Angel's cross was set nastily against blemished, broken skin. "Oh God. I did-"

Spike followed her easily but made no move to conceal the scar. There was no need. Instead, he indicated the mark stretching the length of her cheek. "Got some of my own back," he observed. "That an' then some."

An uncomfortable silence soared between them.

"I... I better go get Ripper," the platinum vampire decided, moving for the door without awaiting a reply.

"Wait." She spoke with hurried angst, catching him before he could fully turn his back to her. There they stood for several more minutes, simply looking at each other. He hated such stillness - the temptation to pace was becoming too strong to ignore. The look on her face betrayed the need for dialogue, but when she opened her mouth, she decided against her wording, shook her head, and asked, "Giles is here?"

Something deep fell within him. "Yeh. Got 'ere earlier, I think." The platinum vampire nodded in concession and again started for the door. "Listen, I'm sure the two of you 'ave a lot to talk 'bout. Where to go from 'ere an' the like. I'll go get 'im an' sod off, 'kay? Gotta contact my bloody management an' get my last paycheck anyway."

Buffy frowned, her eyes filling with confusion. "Spike! Wait! We... we should talk."

He sighed, his back to her. "Wha's there to talk about?"

"What do you think?"

A familiar note struck harshly in her voice. Snickering to himself, he turned again, eyes catching hers with sparks of remembrance. "We've taken this path before, luv. 'S no use goin' over it all again. I really don' fancy hearin' a bunch of bollocks that I already... well, 'ave memorized the tune to. Things are different now. I get that."

The Slayer was completed baffled. "What?"

"All that soddin' bull 'bout-"

"Christ! Here again?" Something between humor and incredulity overwhelmed her features, and the next minute she had doubled over in empty hysterics. "I can't believe this."

"Wha's the matter?"

"You! You in any way, shape, or form! Good God!" She was laughing so hard she could have passed out if she had suffered the need to breathe. "I finally got you to... and now... are you completely deaf or something?"

He frowned. "'Ey. Watch it."

"Remember that night in the graveyard?" As if he could forget. It was built in his memory palace as the one visit he would make most often. "You remember what I told you, don't you?"

"'Course I do." He had never felt such pain. It all seemed so foolish now. The girl loved him and all he could do was cry.

That in consideration, something that was definitely not a tear had found its way into his eye. He brushed it off with irritation.

"Well... doesn't it mean anything?"

"Why don' you tell me?" Spike challenged her with his gaze. "Things are always easy to say when the cat's away, eh?" That rhymed. The man inside treacherously quipped: You're a poet and you didn't even know it was so. A joke down at the coffee lounges where readings were held. He shook the thought away, frowning at himself. At the look hurt he received in reply, he softened uncontrollably and paced a few, cautious steps. "I wouldn't hold you to that. Not after... not after what 'appened. Poncy William won' let me. This time, 's the real thing. The Big Bad, baby."

"Don't you think I know that?" she countered bitterly.

"Do you?"

She looked affronted but he would not grant her leave. "Of course I do!"

"Then tell me, luv." Another step forward was hazarded and permitted. "Tell me so I'll never forget. Tell me right good. Remind me of what I am."

"A pain in the ass?"

"A monster! I'm an all out-for-blood monster. I'm not the censored version, sweetheart. Everythin' you see 'ere's all I am. All I'm ever gonna be." He paused. "'Less you 'ave Red curse me or somethin' about-"

"Don't you remember why you... Will... whoever wouldn't..." With a sigh of aggravation, Buffy pulled hair away from her eyes. "You wouldn't... let yourself be with me because it was... it was you."

"You're speakin' Greek, luv."

The look he received was pointed and skeptical. "Yes, and you understand Greek. So stop playing dumb."

"'F you 'ave somethin' to say-"

"I WAS WRONG!" It was practically a scream; captured within the boundaries of the walls. "Okay? I've said it to you a thousand times but I guess I have to say it to... you... until you get it. I was so wrong that... well, you saw what it did to me."

The fire in his gaze softened. "I saw," he conceded. "Bloody right, I saw. Kitten, you know what I want. What I've wanted ever... ever since I can remember. There's nothin' I want more. An'... I won' hold you to it. What you said. I-"

"I love you, Spike."

He stopped shortly, eyes falling shut. Every contained burden broke free with pleasurable liberation. "You do," he repeated, voice searing with disbelief. "You 'ave any bloody idea how long I waited to hear you say that?"

"I'm sorry," Buffy replied softly, crawling to the foot of the bed, reaching for him. "I mean, I did tell you a thousand times since you got back, but-"

"You told the me who was easy to talk to," he counteracted. "I never thought I'd be so lucky." A long breath hissed through his teeth. "While we're on that... about the other..."

"I forgave you a long time ago for that." The Slayer reached for him, imploring him to take her hand. "Spike, I really don't want to have to go through all of this again. I feel like..." She shook her head. "I'm stuck in a continuous loop and there's no mummy hand to blame it on. It's all you and me. Can't it all be over? Please? We've fought so much and I-"

He couldn't stand it anymore. Something burning inside snapped and he seized her wrist, pulling her to the feet and pushing her roughly against the wall. "I told you before we left," he said, voice angrier than he was. "Told you 'f we were gonna do this, then 's gonna be a forever gig, right? I love you too bloody much to go through all that bloody melodrama again. I can't do it. Get it? Not again."

"I can't either," she agreed with a nod, eyes closing at his blunt force. "God, Spike, tell you one thing and you won't let it go. Tell you something else and you need everything save my right eye to believe I mean every word of it."

At that, he grinned, grip tightening on her arm in counterpoint. "So you're ready, then? You understand? I'm the big fuckin' deal."

She nodded. "I've known since you left. After everything we've been through... God, don't you get that by now?"

"You ready for the full monster, baby?" Spike retorted, ignoring her inquiry. Then his bumpies emerged, and he tickled her mouth with his teeth. "Ready to take all of me?"

Buffy exhaled deeply, running a hand over his chest. "Did you mean what you said?" she asked softly.

Their mouths were so close it was taking every restraint in his body to not seize her and make his long awaited claim. It was too perfect a moment to rush. "When?"

"When we were fighting..." She prodded him with her eyes. "You... you said that you as... the demon... do you wish I was still... I mean, it'd be easier, right, if I-"

He growled at her. "'F you think for one second that I would touch that bloody Porphyria bitch with anythin' short of a good stakin', you got another think comin'. I mean, at firs' an' everythin'... but she was..." It made him quake with anger simply considering her words. "You touched darkness, pet. Somethin' darker than anythin' you were s'posed to feel. I mean, you live 'ere, right. In the darkness. But not like that. Never like that."

He didn't want to mention he was secretly impressed that one of her first kills was a Slayer.

"What I felt..." she whispered, locking gazes. "I felt... I know I've said this before, but... I can't believe you were able to turn your back on that. Were able to search out the good. I felt like I was lost... screaming and pounding and trying to break free but... caught." A hand drifted unthinkingly to his face, rubbing a worn cut across his cheekbone. "You remember... remember the dream?"

At that, he grinned, leaning into her touch. "Which one?"

"The one you had in the cave. The brief one. The one right before-"

The smile melted off his face. As idealistic as sharing whims and reveries were written to be, he found the entire notion a tad unnerving. He wondered vaguely if every great love of his unlife would be cursed with the power of clairvoyance. "Wha? How... what...?"

"Slayer thing," she replied, tapping her head with her free hand. "I saw but I'm not sure that was me. All I know is what I told you was true. To not look back. That everything was and would be all right. I think a part of me was trying to tell you what it was going to come down to. On some level, I must've known."

"Yeh. Some level." Spike simply stared her in extended bewilderment. "God, pet." He couldn't help it; his head dipped forward, resting against her brow, provoking her own demon to growl to life. At that, he pulled back and observed her face. Every aspect that demanded the thrill of the hunt. The need for blood. The raw empowerment it offered. It was most beautiful thing he had ever had the privilege to see. Had the dispensation to declare his own.

Without any finale or hint at break, the internal soundtrack suddenly stopped. Spike leered back and forward again, reaching for her face and bringing his lips to hers. He kissed her brutally, hungrily, with passion that made her weak. Caught in a moment, Buffy at first grasped his wrists, keeping his hands at her face, before conceding to encircle his neck. The exploration of her mouth was delicate, as though he was still discovering her, still drinking her in. Every contradiction, similarity, metaphor, simile, divinity, inferno, everything, all summarized with a kiss.

He lifted her effortlessly without taking his mouth off her. Even now, his strength could deceive her, surprise her, take her by storm. He had so much that she failed to credit for the counter of her own. Buffy muffled a gasp and clutched him tighter. The way he could exhibit elegance and animality simultaneously never ceased to amaze her. So many unexplored levels of his own psyche left to resolve, more parts of him to find and love.

At the bed, he pulled away again, panting heavily. "Why?" he demanded. "Why do you love me, pet? I could keep you 'ere all night 'f you wanted me to answer that, but I gotta know. After everythin' you ever told me. I jus' don' get it."

"Why?" she repeated, brows arching.

"Yeh. Why."

The Slayer sighed, sitting up. "God. I think it was because I finally stopped hating myself. After Willow went all evil, I realized how much I loved life. Dawn and I talked about it. We were... I can't even begin to describe everything we went through. I saw that she could fight, hence the training-ness of her. Things were all right for a while. Then Will came home and everything was... it was just different. You remember what you said... about you being my system and craving you like you crave blood?"

He grinned. "Wasn' the best night of my unlife, but yet, I remember."

Buffy smiled expressively. "I'm sorry."

"You were goin' through stuff, luv. I wasn' exactly Joe Supportive. All I wanted was a good shag." There was a brief, considerate pause. "No, nix that, I jus' wanted to think it was real. The more we did it, the realer it became."

Her eyes narrowed. "You're telling me. It scared me. I began scaring myself. Anyway, it started from there. Then the pangs went deeper. I realized one day it was because of you... and I hated that. I've told you as much. I didn't want to love you. What was I if I loved... if I could... but..." She looked down and shook her head. "Everything I thought was wrong. I mean, most of. Now that I've felt it myself, now more than ever, I know. I understand." With finality, she straightened, reaching for his face. "In the end, all it boiled down to was that you... you gave me the fire. The fire I needed. Fire like I've never felt before. I wasn't expecting it, and ran. I acted badly. Hell, you acted badly." There was no denying that. Despite however much fault was at her blame, no case was ever purely one-sided. She did not let him linger on that thought long. "And now I see you."

Pride swelled and he tried unsuccessfully not to let it show. A grin spread across his lips. "What is it you see, pet?"

The same humorous reflection was not in her eyes. She could not laugh at this, and that pinpoint of seriousness coaxed him from the border of egotism to realize what she was about to say needed to be heard. "I see a monster who was a man, who loved me enough to go to the end of the world and get a soul. To accept an eternity of suffering. To grasp penance." Wearily, she leaned forward and planted a brief kiss on his lips. "Then there's the man. Will. He loved me enough to give it up. To risk everything. And they're both you, Spike. For every compound, you can't help but be both. I love you so much it hurts."

With a strangled cry of unadulterated bliss, he could no longer restrain himself. The platinum vampire pressed forward, capturing her mouth, swallowing, devouring. Needing to consume her whole. His fervor was met with equal enthusiasm, challenged and conceded. Easily, he slid from game face, wrapping his arms around her and coaxing her downward, testing the points of her incisors with his tongue.

Buffy moaned and coiled her arms around his neck. He grinned against her lips and pulled back to study her face. "Din't I always tell yeh that the fangs are particularly sensitive?"

She domed a brow and chuckled, pushing up again. "There's something I've been wanting to do," she said. "I was going to after the entire soul business was behind us. Angel told me... he always told me he wished he could. But..."

The mention of the grand sire's name drew the look of heavenly content away without provocation. "'F this was the Poof's idea, I don' want any part in it."

"Oh come on. You guys were getting along so well before we left."

"Angel and William were gettin' along," Spike corrected. "As fer me... can't stand 'im."

"Why?" He looked at her incredulously, and she wavered. "Okay, so it's a given. But seriously, get over it. What other reason do you have to hate Angel? I mean, you can't hate him all that much. You did save his life."

"God. I did, din't I? Let's not mention that ever again."

"Come on. What's wrong with him?"

"Gee, lemme think." The platinum vampire scowled simply letting his mind wander down that path. "'E took away every bloody thing that ever mattered to me. It was always about 'im. 'E's a bloody poof with stupid hair, an' prances around like the entire world's out to get 'im. I've played the souled gig, luv, an' 's very wine an' roses, granted, but more of a-"

Buffy placed a finger to his lips. "You hate him because it was always about him?"

"In his warped li'l self-involved world, yeh. It was. 'E got everythin'. I 'ad Dru but she loved 'im." He nodded indicatively to her. "An' you. 'E was your first, sweetheart. How the bloody hell am I supposed to compete with that? Told Ripper once 'e's a sodding pedestal, an' no matter, that won' change. I-"

"He was my first what? Lay? Sure." A hurt frontage beset his features. "You can't play that on me. Neither of us were anywhere near virginal when we first... you know." That was true enough. "I loved Angel. You loved Drusilla... don't hear me complaining - and can we say hello to the issues? I know a part of you will always be with her, even if you don't... hell, even if you do love her. But I don't want Angel. I did. I wanted him for a long time, but..." She leaned forward. "It's you."

"Bloody no 'bout Dru. Haven't I proved that by now?" He shuddered. "Tha's sweet, luv, but on some level, it'll always be 'im." Spike shrugged in concession. "An' I'm fine with that. Really. Jus' as long as-"

With a discontented growl, Buffy leaned forward and forcefully sank her fangs into the salty skin at his neck. The act took him by such surprise that he had no reaction but to gasp his pleasure. Coos of delight shuddered through him and he leaned forward encouragingly, grasping the back of her head. "God, pet. I-"

She pulled back just as quickly; splatters of red dribbling down her chin. "Mine," she whispered, lapping the wound with loving attention. "Blood for blood. Every last drop."

The words tumbled off his lips without thought. "Yours. All 'ere baby." Then the moment was gone, and he froze. The smile melted off his face and his eyes went wide. "Luv!" he gasped, seizing her shoulders violently. "Do you 'ave any conceivable idea 'f what you jus'-"

There was no need to question her motive. Knowledge had buried itself within her eyes. In gentle reply, she entwined her hands around his head and forcefully lowered his mouth to her throat. Cold unneeded breaths of anticipation struck her skin, but he would do nothing until instructed. Until permitted inside.

After this, there was no going back.

Buffy clutched him reassuringly, nodding against his cheek in encouragement. "Do it," she whispered.

That was it. All the invitation he required. All the want burning through long-neglected veins. His demon roared to sudden life, biting into her soft flesh with more than tenderness. Pure ecstasy touched every mistreated nerve. Soothed every wanton pain. Tied every loose end.

Spike drank hungrily, seizing her shoulders to steady himself. Black blood poured into his mouth, undeniably rich. The best he had ever tasted. With some difficulty, he managed to pull away, licking his lips in sweet retribution. "You're mine," he gasped. "All of you. Bloody mine. No one else. I won'-"

"Yours," she agreed softly, silencing his declaration with a small chuckle. His brilliant love affair with words took rest for no one.

At last, he relaxed, arms tightened around her, nuzzling the wound at her neck. They remained stationary for long minutes, comforted only in each other. The promise of what lay ahead. The end of dreary days.

His embrace stiffened further, and in the heart of gratification, he rested his head at her shoulder. "Not that I don' 'preciate the gesture, pet," he murmured. "But why exactly would you go an' do somethin' like that?"

"To prove something to you."

"That you'll always keep surprisin' me? No proof needed."

"That night. After... after Willow restored me. The night I killed Faith." Cold aftermath stung her voice in notes of self-remorse, and he kissed her collarbone in an act of comfortless ease. "You asked me if I knew how long forever was."

"So you decided-"

"Well, I'd been thinking about it for a while. Angel told me once that it was highest plateau for vampirehood-"

"I'll say."

"-and that you'd never had it with Dru before."

Spike solidified further. "Yeh. She never wanted... I guess that was clue one that it wasn' forever." He resisted, then softened against her, resting peacefully. "'S that who you learned to do it? Peaches?"

"Well... he never really went into detail." She grinned into platinum strands, raking nails through his hair. "I mean, he couldn't so he... didn't. I looked it up and-"

He barked a laugh, pulling back. "You looked it up?"

At that, she frowned. "Well, where else was I gonna learn? Giles? Rather doubtful. And I didn't think you'd want me to... but now it's all... I love you, isn't that enough?"

The phrase sent pure elation through his body. He could listen to her say it forever. "'S more than enough. 'S bloody perfect."

"I just wanted you to know... without doubt that I'm not going anywhere."

"Well, I coulda told you that." Without warning, he pushed her back again, assaulting her with his mouth. In perfect syncopation, their demons withdrew and they held each other. Buffy's arms locked behind his head, tasting him to the fullest extreme. Their bodies molded perfectly in concert, stretching with long-disregarded need. A familiar swell tickled the bottom of his stomach, and his shirt fought its way off his shoulders.

At that, a lasting beat of restraint persuaded him to pause, reaching for her wrists and lowering them to the mattress, thumbs rubbing circles over the pressure points tantalizingly. He glowered at her, pulling back and arching his scarred brow. "What is it you want, luv?" he asked huskily, brushing her lips with his.

"Oh God..."

"Tell me. Come on..." He tackled her throat with his mouth, persuading her to arch into his touch with another strangled whimper. When she didn't reply, he stretched her arms above her head and held until she understood that he wanted them stationary. He ran his hands down the expanse of her body in delayed exploration. Then it was he that moaned. So long this had been denied. Too long. The touch he had craved for years finally in his arms again. No withdraw. No hindrance. Nothing to hold them back.

Not anymore.

"Spike!" she cried. "Please... just... we deserve it, don't we? We deserve it after all this time. We-"

He sealed her pleas with a kiss, no longer willing himself to hold back. After all, she was right. So much time had passed, teasing themselves: flaunting what guilt, pride, or curses wouldn't let them touch. Not anymore. Never again.

"Right," Spike gasped as her hand defiantly lowered, cupping him delicately, exploring him with idyllic liberation. "Definitely, definitely deserve it."

On an emotional plane somewhere, they met each other with gratifying satisfaction.

Unneeded barriers plowed to the floor. Trousers, various undergarments, anything that separated flesh from flesh. There was no room for foreplay. Enough had been shared over the past month. If she didn't feel him inside her the next instant, she was sure she would break down.

Luckily, that wasn't an obstacle.

The physical aspect of their relationship was still something largely uncultivated, despite how vastly explored. From the first, they had fallen into perfect synchronization, though constantly battling each other for dominance. And every time thereafter had been like the first all over again. A new awareness, emotion, feeling surged through her in collaboration with the millions already encompassing her mind. It wasn't merely sensation; it was sensationalism, if there was such a thing. Exorcising so many empty years, both mentally and in the flesh. She hoped never to stop discovering.

In collusion with the rollercoaster her mind had put her through, Buffy felt she was falling, at the front of the ride and taking a turn down one of the large mounts. Descending rapidly only to be swept before she crashed. Then it wasn't just the hills; it was everything in between. The loops, the curves, the slow and gentle climbs followed by the frightening plunges into what one could only assume was an extended abyss of new surprises.

Words climbed in her throat, scratching, hissing, clawing, and beckoning for release. Words and confessions. The unspeakables. Vibrations escalated and coursed, and then she heard it, as they reached their mutual points, straining in a near whisper.

"Never doubt it, pet," he gasped, shuddering as he stretched into his release. His body cadenced against hers, spending in glorious climax and taking her right along with him. She had never come so hard in her life. "'F you 'aven't learned anythin', jus' remember-"

"You too," Buffy panted, vamping before she realized it. Her teeth embedded naturally in his shoulder with blunt force. A long moan pulsed through his lips, and he hardened instantly, taking her right along with him.

She felt hours could pass with continuous consummation. So much looking without feeling, craving without quenching endless thirst.

No more.

Spike brought her to her second orgasm effortlessly, brushing a kiss over her forehead before finally disconnecting, rolling to his back. Weighty breaths heaved free of his chest, and a hand dropped over his forehead, caressing his closed eyes. The Slayer stretched luxuriously in the intensity of her afterglow, smiling to herself.

"Luv?"

"Yeah?"

"You're bloody brilliant."

Buffy turned over, reaching to touch his hand. The connection was brief but needed. For long minutes, all they could do was stare at each other. A swarm of what had passed blazed between them. Lost in the depths of one another's eyes. Lost, warmed, and found.

 

Continue to Epilogue