Chapter 24

Elizabeth sat next to her hostess, Renee Atherton, Marchioness of Haversham, discussing the events that had transpired in the city this past week while she’d been away on her honeymoon.  She listened to the vampiress halfheartedly, her eyes constantly wandering towards her husband who sat several places away, talking to the Duke of Sevring.   

In the month spent preparing for her wedding, she and the vampiress had become close friends.  And, it was the vampiress that had gloated right along with her that she’d managed to snag the earl out from under everyone else, claiming all the while that she’d known the first moment she’d met her guardian that he cared about the girl.   

That had led to Elizabeth asking the vampiress whether or not a vampire could love…which had brought about a whole discussion about how the vampiress had been turned, about her sire and husband, and about Renee’s knowledge beforehand of his “situation” and how she’d loved him even knowing what he was…and that he’d loved her as well.   

Renee had confessed to the girl that she’d tried to join him in death several times after he’d turned to dust, deliberately seeking out the sun to take the pain of his leaving away.  But, she’d been stopped – the Aurelius clan looking out for her during her time of grief.  It had been that, and her human brother that had managed to prevent her from taking that final step. 

The conversation had been most illuminating to the young girl, and she’d felt better knowing that she wasn’t the only one capable of loving a demon…and that one day, he might come to feel the same. 

Spike felt the eyes of the slayer on him yet again, and he glanced away from the Duke momentarily to look at his wife.  Passion flared to life within his the blue depths of his gaze as he pinned his eyes on the slayer, and saw evidence of the desire she was too innocent to mask.  He smiled at her, the slight upturn to his lips a promise of things to come once they were back home, before he turned away to continue his discussion with Rafe. 

Doyle sat across from Spike at the table, next to the Duke’s wife, Caroline.  He watched as the vampire glanced over towards the slayer, the electricity between the two so great, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind what would be happening later that evening with the two.  It was funny how neither party noticed their effect on the other guests.  The half-breed snickered as he saw all of the vampires, and several of the humans twitch in their seats at the lust brimming in the newlywed’s eyes before Spike severed the connection and returned to his conversation. 

“They love each other very much,” the Duchess beside him whispered. 

“I think we can safely say that theirs was a love match,” he replied.  The two shared a smile before changing the topic, once more returning to subjects deemed appropriate in polite society. 

After dinner, the men had retired to the late-Marquess study to partake of an after-dinner cigar and brandy.  The ladies moved to the drawing room and discussion turned to gowns, households, and the next event planned for the season.   

Soon the men filtered back to join the ladies, and it was no small surprise among several of the ladies gathered that the Earl of Arundel was the first through the door.  They’d all gotten a glimpse of the two and those not deeply in love with their own husbands sighed silently at the couple’s obvious affection for one another, wishing they too could have a love like theirs. 

~*~ 

“Are you nervous?” Renee asked Elizabeth.  “Because you shouldn’t be.  As unorthodox as it may be, Lord Thornton has claimed you as his.  You’ll have nothing to fear at the gathering.” 

“Gathering?” she asked confused. 

“Oh, I thought you knew.  He must not have told you yet.  Well, just look surprised when he does tell you about it, and it’ll be our secret,” Renee replied with a wink. 

The two laughed conspiratorially causing a few heads to turn their way.  Elizabeth envied the vampiress’ ability of not blushing at having drawn the others’ notice.  She, unfortunately, was blushing profusely at their spontaneous outburst – especially when such public displays weren’t deemed “the thing.” 

“Now look what you’ve done,” Elizabeth remarked.  “This is going to get back to Mrs. Rothworth and I’ll never hear the end of it…laughing in public like this.” 

Mrs. Rothworth had returned to her own home after Elizabeth’s marriage only after assuring her former charge that she was welcome to visit at any time.  Elizabeth had been relieved, not wanting to be severed from her lifeline just yet.  True she was now married to her vampire lover, but she’d been led to expect certain rites and ceremonies were commonplace among these demons and she didn’t want to have to do without the elder woman’s guidance in such matters.  Although, Renee had taken it upon herself to help her better understand their way of life. 

“Oh…nonsense.  They’re just dying to know what we find so amusing, is all.  Any one of them would give up their week’s allowance to be privy to our conversation.” 

And, it was true.  The others had kept their distance as the two woman had moved away from the group to converse quietly, but several of the lesser noblewomen gathered tonight were green with envy at Elizabeth’s fast-growing friendship with the popular Marchioness. 

“So, tell me about this gathering.  I take it from all the secrecy that it’s a vampire event,” she whispered quietly so that she wouldn’t be overheard. 

“It is indeed.  And, it’s your first, so you’ll be formally introduced to clan Aurelius.”  Seeing the girl visibly blanch, she rushed on.  “Oh, you don’t have to worry.  It’s nothing life threatening.  And then afterwards, the fun begins…although, you may not want to hang around for that.  Lots of blood and fighting.” 

Elizabeth listened, her eyes wide in astonishment and confusion.  The vampiress saw and chuckled softly. 

“It’s who we are, it’s what we do,” she explained.  “The purpose isn’t to kill, but our demons need an outlet.  These mock battles away from the humans give us that.” 

Beside her, Elizabeth nodded, fascinated.  She expected to feel revulsion at her friend’s explanation, yet in an odd way, it made sense – she only hoped she still felt the same way once she witnessed firsthand everything the vampiress was describing. 

“The Marquess of Darderwyne is holding the event.  You haven’t met him, or his mate.  They’ve been traveling and making arrangements.  I think they’d left right before you’d ventured to the city.” 

“Oh…” 

“Don’t worry, child.  They’ll love you too.  You’ll see.” 

“If you say so…” 

“I do,” she replied, looping her arm through hers.  “Now, come on.  Your husband has looked over here no less than five times already.  I think he’s ready to depart.” 

Elizabeth glanced instinctively towards where her husband stood talking with Viscount Tellidyne and a few other men.  The heated look he sent her way left no doubt as to what her husband wanted to be doing.  She flushed as a wave of desire rushed through her body, and her gazed darted among the occupants of the room to see if anyone else had noticed. 

“Yes.  I’d say he’s ready to leave.” Renee chuckled, amused at the master vampire’s possessiveness.  “Come on, I’ll walk you over there. And, I’ll see you next week at the Marquess home.” 

“Lord Thornton,” the vampiress greeted the earl as she and Elizabeth joined them.  “Viscount Tellidyne…Joseph…Clayton.”  

The half-breed and the three Aurelius vampires greeted her as she stopped before them.   

“William, please, Lady Atherton” Spike greeted the raven-haired vampiress.  “Elizabeth tells me you two have become fast friends.  I’m glad you’ve taken her under your wing and introduced her around.” 

“It was my pleasure.  And, I’ll call you William only if you call me Renee.” 

“Renee it is then.”  Spike smiled at the gorgeous vampiress before drawing the slayer close.  “Having fun, pet?” 

“I was actually.  Renee is a wonderful hostess, and always has a witty story or two to share.” 

“Yes, well…I guess I better go mingle with my guests.  See you soon, Elizabeth,” the vampiress announced. 

“Goodbye, Renee.  And, thank you for having us.” 

“Oh, twaddle.  I’m surprised you cut short that honeymoon of yours to return to my little shindig.” 

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world, and you know it,” Elizabeth responded. 

“Right then…Doyle, you ready to shove off?” Spike interjected, eager to be on his way.   

The half-breed rolled his eyes, fully aware of why the other male wanted to leave.  Things were well in hand here.  The vampire had claimed the slayer and had gone on to marry the chit.  So, he wasn’t sure why he was still hanging out in the past – not that he hadn’t come to enjoy his brief stay.  Spike was an all right bloke if you took away the evil and such.   

But, these clothes were starting to wear on him.  He wanted to get back to his time, wanted to wear jeans again… and decent shoes.  Spike had the right of it – these pansy-assed clothes had to go! 

What the hell was keeping the Powers from letting him return? 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Elizabeth was getting more and more nervous the closer they got to Darderwyne Estates, the Marquess’ home.  It was just the two of them inside the carriage, Doyle having begged off from attending.  True, Renee would be there to keep her company, and she didn’t plan on leaving her husband’s side.  But, it was still disconcerting to say the least.  She was going to be openly mingling with them.   

Vampires. 

Creatures of the night. 

Demons that dined off of human blood. 

She unconsciously shivered next to her husband’s side, only relaxing a little when he pulled her close.   

“Relax, kitten.  It’s going to be fine.” 

All the stories her chaperone had told her about these events were swirling around in her brain.  The images of blood and fighting…and then there was the sex.  Regular orgies, according to the rather descriptive words of Mrs. Rothworth.  Elizabeth just prayed that she didn’t faint at the sight. 

“If you say so…” she responded, unsure. 

“Trust me, luv.  No one is going to bother you.” 

“I know that…it’s just.  I don’t want to disgrace you.  I’m just not…sure…will there be lots of fighting?” she asked weakly.  “You won’t get hurt will you?” 

She didn’t think she could bear it if something were to happen to him.  Her anxiety steadily increased the more she thought about it, until she was nearly hyperventilating next to her husband. 

Spike could hear her heart rate pick up, hear her erratic breathing, and knew he had to do something to take her mind off of things.  She needed to relax.  He couldn’t have her passing out even before they arrived. 

“C’mere,” he urged, pulling her onto his lap. 

One hand worked its way under the voluminous skirts of her dress as the other slipped behind her neck and hauled her down to him for a searing kiss.  So caught up in the mastery of his lips upon hers, she didn’t feel the hand beneath her skirt until he’d plunged two fingers deep inside her.  She tore her mouth from his, her eyes flying wide as a shocked gasp escaped her lips.  Then, his fingers began to move, stretching her as they thrust in and out of her slickened passage.   

“God, William…more…” she moaned as her grip on his shoulders tightened. 

Spike complied, sliding a third finger inside to join the other two, groaning as he felt her walls stretch to accommodate him.  Her eyes fluttered closed, and as his thumb went to work on her clit, she arched into him, grinding herself against his hand.  All thoughts about the gathering slipped away…all she could concentrate on was the way he was making her feel as his fingers plunged into her repeatedly. 

“More, William…make me yours…please…I need to feel…” she ground out helplessly, tottering on the brink of orgasm. 

Bloody hell! 

He hadn’t planned on fucking her on the carriage ride to the Marquess’ place, just wanted to bring her off and ease her apprehension.  But, her words were like a siren’s song, and he could no more resist them than those sailors that were lured to their doom. 

Spike removed his fingers, biting his lip at the loss of her heat.  He fumbled with his fastenings, ignoring her mewling complaints as he shoved his trousers down far enough to let his cock spring free.  He used the hand coated with her juices to lubricate himself, pumping his hand up and down his length a few times in order to ease his entry inside her tight passage.  Then he positioned himself at her entrance and rammed home. 

Dual cries of satisfaction permeated the air inside the carriage. 

His eyes rolled into the back of his head as her velvety heat squeezed his cock.  Once fully seated with her depths, he stilled; his jaw worked as he fought to keep from coming right then.  Above him, he felt the slayer attempt to move and his grip tightened almost painfully on her hips to hold her in place.  

“Please…I need…” 

“I know what you need,” he growled.  He lifted her hips, sliding her off his cock until just the tip remained within her channel.  He waited a moment then slammed her back down over his length. 

“This is what you need, innit?” His husky voice punctuated his question with the same driving technique.   

“Innit?” Another hard thrust. 

“You need to feel me deep inside of you…only me…isn’t that right?” he growled, driving into her harder, determined to mark her. 

“Yes…only you…” 

“Show me,” he snarled, never letting up on his punishing pace.  “Give yourself to me.” 

Elizabeth’s hazel eyes opened and locked with the amber-colored eyes of her demon husband.  The balancing grip she had on his shoulders loosened, one hand lifting to sooth the ridges above his brow.  When she was finished, she wound her hand around his neck and guided him to his mark. 

“I’m yours…take me…” 

“Slayer…” 

With a possessive roar, he latched onto her throat.  His fangs pierced her flesh and sent her body spiraling.  Her climax hit so hard, she couldn’t prevent the near inhuman howl that burst past her lips. 

Spike ignored the carriage as it halted before its destination, too caught up in the taste and feel of the slayer.  Her enriched blood as it flooded his mouth.  His cock drenched with her orgasm as her vaginal walls contracted around him.  He could stay here like this forever…sod the damn gathering. 

He released her neck, not wanting to take too much of her blood and have her feeling dazed, licking the new marks on her neck closed.  His demon receded, once more leaving his human mask in place.  Invigorated with her slayer’s blood, he drove himself into her, his hips lifting off the seat as he tried to bury every last inch of himself within her quivering chasm. 

“I love you…” she whispered softly as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself close to him. 

Those three softly spoken words were his downfall, and he gave himself over as he spilled himself deep within her womb.  He crushed her to him, unmindful of her hair and gown, kissing her with a sudden desperation – as if, on some level he knew that things would change.  That after today things would never be the same…like they were right now. 

Reluctantly, he ended the kiss.  They’d been sitting there for some time now, and they should probably put their clothes to rights and make an appearance. 

“Come on, luv.  We best be getting inside,” Spike told her. 

She nodded at him, a little apprehensive, but not too much so since he was still inside her…still a part of her.  She smiled at him, determined to make him proud.  

‘I can do this,’ she told herself firmly. ‘I can.’ 

When their clothes were finally straightened, Spike opened the door to the carriage and stepped down.  He turned, lifting his hand to assist the slayer to the ground. 

“See that our bags are brought inside and then you can go.  Return for us in a week’s time,” he told the coachman, who tipped his hat and assured the earl that everything would be seen to. 

Spike tucked his wife’s hand in his arm and led her towards the front steps.  No servants greeted their arrival.  The only humans on the premises were probably chained up somewhere…food just waiting to be consumed. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

To say the room came to a standstill at their entrance was an understatement.  All activity stopped as Spike made his way down the foyer and into the sitting room where his host and hostess – he assumed – held court.   

He was saved from guessing when Renee hurried over to greet them.   

“William…Elizabeth!  Come…let me introduce you to our host and hostess.” 

She led them over to the couple Spike had unerringly picked out, noting with satisfaction their instant deference to his presence as they stood to greet him. 

“Derrick, Esme…may I introduce William and Elizabeth Thornton, the Earl and Countess of Arundel,” Renee introduced.  

“William, Elizabeth…” she gestured towards the couple, continuing, “Derrick and Esme Northcutt, Marquess and Marchioness of Darderwyne, and our hosts for this event.” 

“Elizabeth…Renee’s told me so much about you.  Come, let me introduce you to some of our guests and leave the men to get acquainted…if that’s alright with you Lord Thornton?”   

Spike glanced down at the slayer, who looked up at him with a tremulous smile.  She gave him a slight nod.  He nodded to the redheaded vampiress and watched as she looped her arm with the slayer’s and led his wife away.  Things seemed fairly tame right now, as everyone was doing the meet and greet, but he’d have to keep an eye on her later once the party got into full swing. 

“She’ll be fine here,” the dark-haired Marquess announced.  “No one would dare to harm that which is yours.  Come. Let me introduce you to some of the others.” 

He allowed himself to be led away by the older-looking vampire, out of the drawing room and towards the study where a small group of males congregated.  Spike recognized Viscount Sotheby, the vampire that had danced with his wife at the Duke of Sevring’s ball, and the Marquess of Eaglethorpe, but the others he’d yet to meet.  The others looked up as he and his host walked towards them, halting their conversation and opening their small circle to allow them to join. 

“Lord Thornton…” the Marquess began. 

“William,” Spike corrected automatically. 

“Yes…William…let me make known to you Marcus Devlin, the Marquess of Brummidge and heir to the Duke of Rutherford.” 

Spike glanced up at the taller vampire.  He looked about the same age as him, but knew instinctively that he was just a fledgling.  With dark hair and dark eyes, the man bore a look similar to his grandsire. 

“Marcus,” Spike greeted. 

“Next to him is Joseph Maitland, Marquess of Eaglethorpe, whom you’ve already met, I’ve been told.” 

Spike nodded at the second dark-haired vampire. 

“Bryon Fielding, Earl of Hawkingstone…Hawk to his close friends,” the Marquess continued with his introductions.  And finally, Clayton Percival, Viscount Sotheby.” 

“We’ve met,” Spike announced.  “Clayton…” 

“Gentlemen, this is William Thornton, the Earl of Arundel, recently returned to London.” 

The vampires greeted Spike warmly, quickly drawing him in to their exclusive circle.  Their conversation resumed, and the blond-headed vampire listened as they discussed the scheduled events planned for the evening.  The thought of sparring with the others appealed and he eagerly accepted their invitation to join them. 

Through the claim, he felt the slayer’s tension ease and he began to finally relax in the others’ company.  A drink was thrust in his hand at some point and he drank it down, relishing the content’s fiery path down his throat.  

~*~*~*~*~ 

Elizabeth had to admit, this was nothing like she’d imagined after the tales Mrs. Rothworth had been spinning at the goings on at these affairs.  So far, besides the fact that it was an exclusive vampire soiree, she couldn’t see any difference between what was occurring here and what transpired at a normal ton event.  Well, except for a little more public affection.  Oh…and there was that instance of some woman kissing another woman, which had brought a blush to her cheeks and teasing laughter from Renee and Esme.  The idea had shocked her even though she couldn’t help but gawk at the two going at it in right in front of everyone. 

And, what’s more.  No one seemed to care.  It was as if the strictures of society were suddenly gone and everyone did whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. 

Just like that, the anxiety that she had been harboring evaporated, and she was finally able to relax and just enjoy herself. 

Esme introduced Elizabeth to several of the women loitering about her home, moving from room to room as the red-headed vampiress alternately greeted people and gave her a tour of the lower levels.   

“And I believe you’ve already met Mrs. Rothworth,” Esme said gesturing to an older woman clustered with a small group of older-looking women. 

Elizabeth squealed with delight, rushing over to greet the woman that had become a mother figure to her.  She couldn’t keep the smile off of her face when the elder woman opened her arms, going eagerly into her embrace. 

“Child, you look lovely.  I see marriage agrees with you.  You look very happy.” 

“Yes, it does, and I am…immensely so.”  

“That’s good to hear.  Now, toddle on back to your friends and leave this old woman to natter with hers.  We’ll sit down and chat at some point this week.” 

“Right…I’m sorry to interrupt.” 

“Nonsense.  I just don’t want to steal our hostess’ thunder by taking you away from her side.  Now, off you go.” 

Elizabeth gave the older woman one last hug, then moved to rejoin Renee and Esme.  She paused momentarily in her tracks…stunned into immobility at the sudden sense of danger permeating her body.  It was as if tingles were rushing up and down her back and neck, urging her to flee.  To escape. A moment later, it was gone…as if only imagined, and she mentally shook herself before hurriedly returning to her hostess’ side. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

As the night wore on, Elizabeth steady consumed the beverages placed in her hand.  Her inebriated mind wondered when they were going to sit down and eat dinner, never realizing that here, the vampires had been steadily eating throughout the night, availing themselves of the human flesh locked up several floors below her. 

She felt arms slip around her waist and draw her back against a hard, lean frame and knew instinctively that it was her husband.  She relaxed into him, grateful to have something sturdy to lean against.  The several glasses of wine she’d had on an empty stomach were playing havoc with her equilibrium. 

“Little tipsy there, kitten,” Spike murmured in her ear before sucking the lobe into his mouth. 

“Mmmm…’s your fault,” she slurred as she ground herself into him. 

“Playin’ with fire there, pet,” he growled back.  “’N what’s my fault?” 

“’M hungry…when are we gonna eat?  Doesn’t anyone eat at these things?” she complained.  “All I’ve had tonight is alcohol…and alcohol and me?  Non-mixy.” 

And she proved it, by nearly falling in a heap at his feet. 

“Bloody hell,” he grumbled, grabbing her more securely about the waist as he moved them towards what, he hoped were the kitchens.  Hopefully his host kept some finger food around to appease the slayer’s hunger. 

He pushed his way through the doors into the kitchen and wasn’t surprised when he saw several couples going at it in various spots around the room.  The alcohol and blood had been free flowing for most of the night and the amorous inclinations of the bunch had taken hold.  He was just thankful that he had a private room secured for the duration of his stay.   

“Come on, pet.  Let’s get a bit of fruit into you.” 

“M’kay.” 

She grabbed the apple that her husband handed her, taking a huge bite of the fruit and chewing it down.  She kept at it until nothing remained but the core, and started to feel marginally better with something in her stomach. 

“Have some grapes too,” Spike urged. 

When she’d eaten her fill, he had her wash it down with some water, figuring any more wine would defeat the purpose of the food she’d just consumed. 

“All better now?” 

“Uh huh.” 

“Good, then, come on.  The fun’s about to start.” 

“Fun?  What fun?” 

“The fighting kind.”  When she gripped him tightly, he rushed to reassure her.  “Nothing serious, pet.  It’s just…’s what we do.” 

She noticed the gleam in his eye, indicating his delight…as if he were looking forward to pounding on something…or someone. 

Her hand lifted, tracing over the sharp contours of his face.   

“You’ll be careful?  I couldn’t bear it if something were to happen to you,” she whispered softly. 

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, luv,” he chuckled, pulling her close.  “Now come on.  I’ll have you stand close by Renee and if it’s too much for you to watch, she’ll take you back to our room.” 

He led her to the ballroom where a crowd was already gathering.  A couple of vampires were sparring, divested of shirt and shoes, clad in only their breeches.  Various nicks and bruises marred their features but both were smiling, reveling in their skirmish. 

Elizabeth’s eyes remained transfixed on the fighters, their bare torsos gleaming with spilt blood.  They moved around the room within the circle of the others, trading blows.  It was violent, yet fascinating, and she found she couldn’t turn away from them as William pulled her along behind him towards where Renee stood on the edge of the mock battlefield. 

Spike saw the slayer’s eyes on the two and smirked.  He turned her towards him and lifted her face for a hard kiss before abruptly releasing her and turning away.  Moving towards an empty chair, he quickly divested himself of his clothes, leaving nothing on but the dark breeches he wore.  Cheers sounded behind him and he guessed that one of the fighters had won the round. 

He made his way back to the middle of the room where Marcus, his sire look-alike, stood waiting for him.  The crowd quieted as the two circled one another, silently weighing the other’s skill.  Spike knew he outmatched the other vampire, but decided to go easy on him to prolong the fight. 

Not too easy, as he moved in a blur and delivered a blow to the other’s face.  He grinned, smiling at Marcus with his devil-may-care attitude.  The other smiled back, eager to fight…even if he knew he was going to lose. 

Then, it was on.  Both traded blows, fists and claws digging into the other’s flesh as they moved about the room.  The sounds of everyone’s cheers erupted around him, but he remained concentrated on the fight…holding back some of his strength and expertise as the two sparred.  His demon gloried in the blood that was drawn, the sound of his fists meeting the tender flesh of his opponent.   

~*~ 

Elizabeth watched her husband spar with the dark-haired man, cringing at every blow that landed on her lover.  She bit her lip to keep from crying out, not wanting to distract him and allow the other man to win.  The man hit her husband with a lucky blow to the head that sent him reeling, and stood by helplessly as William picked himself up easily, vaulting to his feet with feline grace and rejoining the fight. 

On and on it went, until she could stand it no more, her eyes staring unfocused so she wouldn’t have to see each blow that was delivered to her husband, hear each tear as another strip of skin was sliced open on one of them. 

The images began to blur and the figures changed.  The tingles along her neck and back returned with a vengeance as a new scene overlaid what was playing out before her.  The figure dressed in a long, black leather coat, red button down shirt, black jeans and boots blocked the blow of another vampire.  This one was taller. Broader.  Dressed in a similar fashion and struggling to defend himself against the blond-headed vampire as he rained down blow after blow upon him.  He glanced her way and she gasped in surprise. 

Angel. 

Buffy glanced frantically around her.  Her slayer senses were going crazy.  Her gaze darted about the room, taking in all the vampires clustered around her. 

What was she doing here?  Why was everyone dressed so strangely?  What the hell was going on? 

She directed her attention back to the two fighters and noticed that the dark-haired vampire wasn’t Angel and breathed a sigh of relief.  Although similar in build, he didn’t move like him, and if she could hazard a guess, she figured that the vamp was a fledgling, and a young one at that, judging by the awkward way he defended against himself against the other vamp. 

Speaking of. 

Her eyes narrowed in concentration.  His back was to her, so she couldn’t make out his features just yet.  If he could just turn around… 

Spike? 

Spike looked up at the sound of his name.  He glanced around, his amber gaze quickly seeking out the slayer. 

Fuck! 

He took in her stiff posture, the fire blazing from her eyes, and knew that Elizabeth was gone for good.  His anger that it was finally over, that he was once more dealing with the true slayer, and a brassed off one at that, threatened to overwhelm him and in a fit of rage, he turned away from her and delivered a blow to Marcus that sent the fledgling hurtling against the far group of spectators. 

His swung back around, his gaze pinning her in place while all around him the others were cheering his name. 

Before she had a chance to move, to run away, he was on her, pinning her arms to her side as he buried his fangs in her throat. 

Her last thought before Buffy faded to unconsciousness was that he’d done it.  Spike had managed to bag his third slayer. 

Then the world tilted on its axis and went black.

Chapter 25

Spike feasted on the slayer’s blood until he felt her go slack in his arms.  He tore his mouth away from her throat, scooping her limp body up in his arms as he made his way out of the hall and towards the room he’d been given for his stay.  His departure was like a signal to the others, who broke off into much smaller groups to seek their own amusements.  

He ignored the congratulations of the others as walked through the foyer on his way to the stairs – his only thought to get away from everyone and secure the slayer before she could come to and make a mess of his and the Powers carefully laid plans.   

Finally alone in his room, he gazed down at her slumbering form before depositing her on the bed.  His fingers worked over the fastenings of her gown, quickly divesting her of the garment and leaving her body bare to his gaze.  Amber eyes took in the room’s décor, his gaze lighting on a wardrobe across the way.  He moved towards it, anger still radiating from every inch of his frame that the fates had chosen now for her to remember.  

His fingers gripped the handles, pulling the doors open to reveal its contents.  Full lips curled into a smile at the assortment of torture devices it held.  Grabbing several lengths of rope, he returned to the slayer, spreading her arms wide and securing them to either bedpost.  Once her arms were bound, he moved to her legs, tying them as well so that she laid spread eagle and nude upon their bed.  He double-checked his knots, making sure that they’d hold – not that he had to worry too much…he could keep her in line by drinking just enough of her life’s blood to keep her weak.  

Secure in the knowledge that she wouldn’t be waking anytime soon and attempting to escape, he departed their room to retrieve his clothes and a bottle of liquor from his host’s study.  As he moved down the hall and back towards the stairs that would take him below, the sounds and smells of the others filtered up towards him.  He moved gingerly down the staircase, stepping over couples that couldn’t quite make it to their rooms.  

In the main foyer, it was worse – regular orgies taking place among the masses.  His cock hardened within the confines of his breeches as the sights and smells assaulted his senses.  Several times someone wanting him to join in on the action grabbed him, but he shrugged them all off.  There was only one person he wanted to dominate right now, and she was upstairs, bound and unwilling on his bed.  He finally located his clothes, lying untouched on the vacant chair, and he grabbed them, throwing them haphazardly over his shoulder as he moved off towards the study.  

He slipped inside the room, breathing a sigh of relief that, at least here, he wasn’t witness to all the things he’d like to be doing right now.  As if by some silent agreement, the host’s study was off limits to the carnality of the group.  A few of the more bookish vampires sat reading in the chairs scattered about the room, ignoring the noises seeping under the door from all the action taking place beyond.  Spike crossed to the bar, snagging a full bottle of scotch to take back with him to his room.  He ignored the glasses stacked on top, figuring that he didn’t need to bother with the civility of drinking from a tumbler when his sole purpose was to get drunk.  From the source would be just fine.  

~*~*~*~*~  

Spike slouched in his chair, his eyes never leaving the figure stretched out on the bed.  One arm dangled over the chair’s arm, the half-empty bottle of scotch held negligently in his hand.  Every now and then, he’d bring the bottle to his lips, taking a huge swallow to numb his brain.  

‘Knew it was bloody well goin’ to end, din’t ya,’ he taunted himself.  ‘Now that the slayer’s back you’ll no’ be hearin the pretty l’il words she’d cry as she came.  No more callin’ out y’er name an’ beggin’ for ya.’  

He took another swig of the amber fluid to drown out the inner voice mocking him.  

‘Look at ‘er over there…think she’s gonna want you now?  Her?  The slayer that kills your kind?’  

Laughter reverberated in his brain…Drusilla, Angelus, Darla – all mocking him for his stupidity.  

The bottle made its way back to his lips, his throat working as he finished of its contents before throwing the empty container against the wall with a roar.  The sound of the glass shattering against the hard surface pulled a reluctant moan from the girl tied to the bed, and Spike staggered to his feet to make his way over to her.  

He couldn’t deny how lovely she was as he gazed down at her nude form.  Her dark hair was fanned out on the pillow beneath her head; her taut body bore evidence to the strength hidden within her compact frame.  His eyes zeroed in on the dark curls covering her mound.  

“Spike!” Buffy attempted to ground out, but her voice sounded weird to her ears…nothing more than a faint whisper.  “What have you done to me?”  

His eyes lifted to her face and he couldn’t help chuckling at the fire that emanated from her hazel depths.  Even bound and helpless, she attempted to flay him with her gaze.  

“Tell me, slayer,” he asked, perching on the edge of the bed as he trailed one hand up her bare leg.  “What do you remember?”  

He chuckled mirthlessly as he felt her struggle against the bonds to try and escape his touch, her depleted strength no match for the coils of rope wrapped around her wrists and ankles.  Ignoring her feeble protests, his hand continued up her body – watched with fascination as her stomach quivered beneath his touch as his fingers roamed over her abdomen.  His hand moved ever upward, cupping her breast while he rubbed his thumb back and forth across her puckered nipple.  

“You haven’t answered me, pet.”  

“Spike…wha-what are you doing to me?” she whined helplessly.  

“Nothin’ that I haven’t done before these past six weeks.”  

“No…”  

She struggled harder against her bonds, desperate to escape his touch.  Her eyes widened almost comically as she saw him lower his head towards her bare breast.  ‘Where did my clothes go?’  

“Oh, yes,” his husky voice confirmed.  

He sucked her hardened nipple into his mouth, delighting when she unconsciously arched into him.  She may have forgotten these past few months now that her amnesia was gone, but her body hadn’t.  Her body still craved him, his touch, the things he could do to her, the way he could make her feel.  

“Spi-”  

“Tell me you don’t remember,” he murmured around the plump flesh in his mouth.  

Buffy frantically shook her head, trying to deny his words.  She squeezed her eyes shut tight, desperate to eradicate the sight of him suckling at her breast…how he used his tongue and lips to tease her flesh.  Her teeth clamped down on her lip to keep from keening her pleasure as he flicked her nipple with his tongue.  She felt, rather than saw, his other hand skim over her body to lavish attention to her other breast and Buffy thought she’d die if he didn’t ease the ache he’d brought about.  

“Your body remembers, slayer,” he purred.  “Remembers ever wicked little thing ‘ve done to you.”  

Spike inhaled deeply, his eyes closing in pure bliss, as he smelled her arousal perfume the air.  He licked his lips in anticipation.  

“No…stop…I don’t want this…I don’t want you,” she cried.  She had to get away from his touch.  She couldn’t let him do this to her.  

Spike removed his hand from her breast and plunged two fingers in her dripping pussy.  His eyes narrowed intently as she arched her hips off the bed.  

“Your body says you’re a liar, pet.” He pumped his digits repeatedly within her slick passage, grinning widely as she tried to grind herself against his hand.  

Buffy felt helpless as her body moved in tandem with his fingers.   

‘Why am I doing this?  Why am I letting him touch me like this?’  

The images came then, assaulting her mind as his fingers drove her to the brink of rapture.  

“Come to me,” she whispered.  

With a groan, he lowered his fangs to her neck, piercing her delicate flesh.  He bit deep, knowing that he was hurting her.  But, he was marking her…stating his claim for the world to see…and heed. This mark would last forever…his claim sealing her fate, her life, to his for all eternity.  

She cried out as his fangs went deep, deeper than before.  Then, he began to suck her blood into his mouth, and she was undone.  Each pull of her blood caused an answering throb where he was steadily sliding in and out of her.  Then, he took one last deep pull from her neck and she was lost…exploding into a thousand pieces, the dual penetration too much for her to bear.  

“Spike!” she bellowed, sounding momentarily like her slayer-self.  

“Mine!  Say it!” he commanded as he ripped his fangs from her neck, blood coating his lips.  He stilled within her, waiting.  

“Yours.  Now and forever,” she answered instinctively.  

She remembered each time he’d taken her afterwards, how he played her body like a skilled musician and she, his willing instrument.  Remembered every party she’d attended, her chaperone, the friends she’d made.  

She remembered how he’d comforted her over her “parents’” death, her eyes softening in memory. Who knew he – a vampire – could be so caring?  

Her eyes widened in shock as the details of her wedding played out in Technicolor before her eyes.  She married Spike?  Buffy glanced at her left hand – sure enough, there was a ring on her finger, a beautiful one at that.  Images of her honeymoon, the carriage ride to his country estate, came to her.  

“Anything we do together is right, kitten.”  He pulled her up off of her knees and into his lap.  With an unusual display of gentle affection, he pulled the pins from her hair, allowing the dark locks to cascade down her back.  His fingers cupped her jaw, pulling her down to him for the barest of kisses – no more than brushing his lips lightly back and forth across hers.  

Her eyes closed as he coaxed her head toward his, but they opened now, tears swimming in her eyes as she looked at her husband.  A demon, but still a man, and capable of such emotion.  As he kissed her with such loving tenderness, reassuring her with his touch that this was right, that they were right, her love for him burst forth until it threatened to overwhelm her, and she couldn’t prevent the whispered vow from escaping her lips.  

I love you. 

“No!  I can’t!  I won’t!” she cried, frantic now to get away from him.  To deny what she’d remembered.  

Spike lifted his head from her breast and stared at the slayer.  Seeing the recognition shining in her eyes, his gaze hardened.  

“Too late, slayer,” he growled.  “You’re mine…only mine.”  

“No…” Buffy struggled futilely against her bonds.  She had to throw him off, couldn’t let him touch her like this.  

“Yes!”  

He moved suddenly, settling himself between her parted legs, her sex wet and dripping from his ministrations.  

Her head lifted, staring helplessly at him as his head hovered over her mound.  

“Wha-what are you doing?” she squeaked.  

His rakish gaze pinned her in place and he licked his lips in anticipation. Slipping his hands beneath her ass, he lifted her hips as he lowered his head to flick his tongue over her clit.  

“Spike!” the slayer bellowed, straining against her bonds for an entirely different reason now.  

“More?” he asked quirking his brow at her.  

Buffy nodded helplessly, her protests gone by the wayside as his tongue laved at the bundle of nerves between her legs.  

“Say it!” he commanded.  

She shook her head refusing to give in to his demands.  And instantly regretted it as his tongue drove her to the brink of ecstasy again and again…but never any further.  At some point her tears started, her body unable to handle the exquisite torture he delivered.  

“Had enough, slayer?” he ground out, easing off of her to allow her body to relax a moment before beginning again.  He rose, quickly shucking his breeches then settled between her outstretched legs once more.  

“Please…n-no…no more…” she begged.  

“Tell me,” he demanded.  

“I…I can’t…”  

“So be it!” he snarled.  

Spike surged up her body, burying himself to the hilt with one powerful thrust.  Beneath him, the slayer strained against the ropes binding her in place.  

“Spiiiiiike!!”  

His arms slipped beneath her back to cup her shoulders, anchoring him in place as he drove his cock repeatedly into her sopping pussy.  He cared not for her pleasure; he was punishing her, plain and simple.  Her tears held no sway with him, only increased his ire that she was denying him.  He felt her twitching beneath him, desperate to increase the friction and grant her some measure of relief, but he removed one arm from around her shoulder and held her hips in place.  

“No…” she cried.  “Please….Spike…I need…”   

Spike ignored her, his hips moving for his own pleasure.  His pace increased as if to lose himself in her body…trying desperately to chase away the ghosts that told him he wasn’t good enough, would never be good enough.  

Buffy couldn’t stand it.  Her body was strung so tight and the movements of Spike just heightened her body’s awareness that told her she was close…  

If she just gave him what he wanted, he’d give it to her.  

She felt his head buried in her neck, his offbeat breathing tickled her neck and driving her just that much more crazy.  If she didn’t tell him soon it would be too late.  He’d go there without her and leave her behind.  Once more she pulled at the ropes on her wrist and ankles, but she was still too weak to do more than dig the coils deeper into her tender flesh.  

She broke.  

“I’m sorry,” she babbled.  “Please, Spike…”  

The slayer was openly weeping now…too far gone to care what she was telling him.  

“I’m sorry…didn’t mean it…yours…I’m yours…Spike…please….”  

The haze of his anger wore off at her confession and he stilled above her.  He looked down at her tear-stained face and listened to her continued babblings. Spike slipped from the slayer’s warm body and easily sliced open the bonds holding her feet in place then did the same for her arms.  She didn’t move afterwards, too upset to notice that she’d been freed.  

He returned to his spot between her legs and slid effortlessly back into her wet sheath.  Lowering his head to hers, he began tracing his tongue around her lips until she opened her mouth to let out a slight moan.  His tongue slipped inside, coaxing hers to respond.  Spike groaned in pleasure at her first tentative touch, felt something akin to relief as her arms wrapped around his neck and held him tight.  His slow steady pace never wavered as he tore his mouth from hers and trailed his lips down her neck.  

“Slayer,” he murmured as his lips brushed back and forth across his mark.  “Tell me you want this.”  

“Spike…” Her head lifted from the pillow, driving her neck closer to him.  “Need you…”  

His face shifted and he buried his fangs in her neck.  He felt her body spasm beneath him, her inner muscles clenching around his staff as he continued to thrust his cock inside her slick passage.  

Buffy cried his name, completely undone by his bite.  She crushed him to her, driving his fangs deeper into her neck.  Her legs moved to wrap around his waist; her eyes widened as the new position allowed him to slip even further inside her body.  

Spike purred his delight as he felt her move beneath him.  He released her neck, his face automatically shifting back to his human guise as he returned his lips to hers. He’d taken enough of her blood already, his veins nearly throbbing with her sweet elixir as it rushed through him.   

His pace increased, the driving intensity of his thrust moved her up along the bed until she removed her hands from his back and blindly reached over her head to brace her hands against the headboard.  Their grunts and snarls mingled with the sounds of their bare flesh as their bodies came together.  

Buffy was too caught up with the way Spike was making her feel to deal with the ramifications of her making love to a vampire.  And, an evil one at that.  She shoved all the negative thoughts aside, feeling the holes on her neck zing to life as she felt his movements increase another notch.  All she knew was that she needed him right now…she’d worry about getting home later.  Figure out what had happened to her some other time.  

Her mind was centered completely on Spike, the way he moved inside her, how he seemed to just seep inside every corner of her being.  

Then she couldn’t think anymore. Her body splintered into a thousand pieces as his movements became too much and a second climax washed over her. His name burst forth from her lips, the slayer too far gone to temper her volume.  

“Slayer!” Spike shouted, seeking his own release.  His hips moved spasmodically as he emptied himself deep within her womb before collapsing on top of her.  His lips nuzzled her neck, his tongue flicking over the holes in her flesh to seal them closed.  

He felt her shift beneath him and he rolled them so that she lay sprawled on top of him.  

Buffy was too comfortable to move.  The loss of blood and dual orgasms lulled her into a light sleep on top of her vampire.  Her lips curled into a slight smile just before she drifted off.  

Hers.  He was hers.

Chapter 26

Buffy came awake with a start, pulled from a restful sleep by the warning tingles climbing up the back of her neck.  Her head lifted from where it lay, turned to the side as she rested on something cool and hard.  Not entirely uncomfortable, but not exactly the softness of the bed.  She felt decidedly lethargic, as if Giles had put her through her paces and then set her out to patrol for the better part of the night.  

It took her a moment to figure out what it was beneath her.  The memories slammed through her body eliciting a horror-filled gasp as she braced herself up with her arms, away from the creature she’d lain sprawled upon. 

Self-loathing filled her gaze as she stared down at the slumbering features of her enemy. 

No, not her enemy.  Her husband. 

Spike. 

She was married to Spike. 

Buffy scrambled off of him, uncaring of her nakedness as she moved to put as much distance between herself and the master vampire blissfully unaware – or uncaring – of his mortal enemy's wakefulness.  The edge of the bed wasn’t far enough away for her peace of mind, so she grabbed the coverlet that had been kicked to the floor sometime earlier, wrapping it protectively around her body as she slunk to a darkened corner of the room away from his prying eyes should he awaken and attempt to seek her out. 

She would have dressed and escaped the room, flee the prison that he’d brought her to, but the thought of walking amongst the multitude of vampires – that even now was being hammered home to her slayer senses – was not a quest she was ready to subject herself to just yet. 

Right now, she had no idea where she was…only that she was alone, and at the mercy of a vampire that had boasted of bagging his third slayer. 

As the helplessness of her situation washed over her, the tears began to fall.  Self-pity wasn’t an emotion she normally indulged in, but right now…away from her watcher, her mother, her friends, Angel – she couldn’t prevent the sobs that wracked her slender frame. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike woke to the feel the slayer’s overwhelming sense of despair as it came to him through the claim.  His eyes narrowed, realizing that she wasn’t in bed with him.  Outside the room the sounds of his clan’s more amorous activities reached his ears and he inhaled deeply the scent of blood and sex lingering on the air.   

For just a moment he thought of saying to hell with dealing with the slayer…leaving her to wallow in her guilt and shame.  He could be downstairs right now, participating in the sex-fest with the others of his clan, gorging on the human flesh just waiting to die at their hands.  Instead of being here, locked in a room with a brassed off, confused slayer – one that wanted nothing to do with him now that she’d gotten her memories back.  The bloody bitch. 

His eyes turned unerringly towards her.  Images danced before his eyes…the slayer, babbling her apologies, validating his claim. 

Guess now that the sexual tension was gone, she was once more the bitch he loved to hate. 

And, right now, he did.  Hated the powerful creature huddled in the corner like a whipped dog, her body shaking with shame as she cried those bloody tears.  Once more the rage he’d barely managed to conceal flared to life, a spark set to dry timber, threatening to engulf him in flames. 

Spike sat up in bed, every muscle in his body taut with fury that suddenly overcame him.  He was so close to saying, “sod it all” and gifting himself with his third slayer – he didn’t need the aggravation of dealing with her in all her righteous indignation.  If anyone had the right to be pissed, it was he.  He was the one that had to go against everything he was and claim her.  And not just that, oh no.  Powers coerced him to bloody well marry the chit too. 

It was enough to make him want to drive a stake through his own unbeating heart. 

He stood, stalking towards the slayer in all his naked glory, intent on doing just that.  Was halfway there when he felt another presence at his back.  Quicker than the blink of an eye, he turned and confronted this latest threat… 

…and stared in shock at the half-breed. 

What the hell? 

He must have voiced his thoughts out loud because Doyle opened his mouth and spoke. 

“Don’t look at me, man! I was minding my own business, sleeping the sleep of the well-inebriated when I was whisked from my bed and plopped in your room,” he grumbled.  “And, would you mind putting some clothes on…I could do without the visual, thanks.” 

Spike snorted and walked towards where he’d kicked off his breeches earlier, stepping into the legs and pulling them up over his legs and fastening them about his hips. 

“Wanna tell me what you’re doing here, mate?” he groused, leaning against the bedpost, arms crossed over his chest. 

Doyle rolled his eyes at the vampire, taking in the huddled form of the slayer before plopping in one of the chairs in the room. 

“Well, it seems your more amorous pursuits earlier this evening have resulted in the Powers having to step in and do some mind-altering mojo.  Something they’re not thrilled with, by the way,” he broke off seeing the vampire’s eyes narrow on him. “Hey, just the messenger here.  And, not willingly, I’ll have you know.  I was minding my own business, sleeping the night away.” 

“Get on with it,” Spike growled, more at the situation than at the man that had become his reluctant friend these past weeks.  He knew the half-breed’s chain was being jerked by these so-called Powers, just like his own had been. 

“Yeah…anyway.  Guess with the erm…enjoyment, I guess you can say…your uhh, shout was heard by several of your brethren causing the Powers to do that mind-altering spell.  Something they didn’t like doing because they’d already had the cloaking spell to prevent vamps from sensing her in the first place.” 

~*~ 

Buffy lifted her head from her knees when it dawned on the slayer that Spike was talking to someone else.  She squinted in the near-dark room and tried to make out the image of the man reclined on the chair. 

“…Powers to do that mind-altering spell.  Something they didn’t like doing because they’d already had the cloaking spell to prevent vamps from sensing her in the first place.” 

She couldn’t process most of what he’d said after hearing “Powers.”   

The Powers were behind this? 

The slayer lurched to her feet, dragging the coverlet more securely around her naked frame as she marched towards the two men.  Gone was the lost, weeping girl.  In her place stood a royally pissed off Slayer.  

She’d had about enough of this!  She wanted to know what was going on…and now. 

~*~ 

Spike felt the slayer move towards them and couldn’t prevent his lips from twisting into his trademark smirk.  He didn’t halt her progress, for once she was directing all that piss and vinegar on someone other than yours truly, so he just stayed where he was and watched the show. 

And she didn’t disappoint, laying into the half-breed with all the righteous indignation she could muster, blasting him with her fury, demanding to know who he was and what the hell was going on. 

She’d even cussed. 

His smirk transformed itself to a grin before he could stop himself.  Doyle was trying desperately to field the slayer’s rapidly fired questions, frequently shooting him pleading looks for assistance.  Spike just kept mum, watching the Powers’ emissary flounder like a fish out of water as he attempted to explain what had happened to her. 

~*~ 

“So you’re saying that Ethan Rayne is responsible for this?  Me being here…in the past?” 

“Yes.” 

“And, you’re the spokesperson for the Powers that Be?” 

“Erm…yes.” 

“Well, as this so-called spokesperson, you mind telling me why they haven’t fixed it yet and sent me back home?” 

“See, that’s the thing,” he stammered, eyes darting back and forth between the vampire and slayer.  Damn, he hated his job sometimes.  “They don’t want to interfere, anymore than they already have.” 

“Bullshit,” Buffy ground out, masking her shock and her foul language.  But, she was pissed and something about this guy’s words didn’t seem to ring true. 

“Uh…”  Oh, fuck! Now I’ve got Spike’s interest too.  This night was quickly going from bad to worse. 

“There’s no way you can tell me that these stupid Powers, or whatever you want to call them, can’t just wave their magic wand and send me home,” she argued.  “What is it you’re not telling me?  And trust me, I’ll know if you’re lying.” 

Her eyes narrowed on him, promising retribution if he didn’t come clean. 

“Hell…look…it wasn’t my idea.  I’m just the messenger.” 

Doyle stood, putting the chair between him and the slayer.  He glanced over at Spike to see his eyes narrowed as well.  There was no way he was going to get out of this room with his hide intact.  Especially after he told them that they could have been returned home rather easily, but that the Powers had been adamant about having the legend come true.  That they’d taken the warlock’s mischief spell and manipulated it for their own purposes. 

No, they weren’t going to be happy.  Maybe he’d leave that part out of his explanation.   

He watched at they moved to stand side by side, neither aware that’d they instinctively formed a united front against him.  Guess the Powers knew what they were about after all. 

There was no easy way around this.  He was just going to have to come right out and say it. 

“You both are here to fulfill your destiny.”

Chapter 27

Doyle had to admit, laughter wasn’t quite what he was expecting.  At the very least, he’d expected shouts…and cussing – with the bulk of the foul language coming from the vampire.  His worst-case scenario involved him being pummeled to death, again, at the vampire’s hands.  But there they stood, laughing as if he’d just told the punch line to a rather funny joke. 

He crossed his arms over his chest and waited. 

And waited.   

What he’d said hadn’t been that damn funny.  Not that it had been funny at all, but he could see why they were laughing.  Wasn’t every day that someone claiming to be a messenger of the almighty “Powers” revealed to you that you had a destiny to fulfill.  But still!  This was no laughing matter.  Things had happened for a reason.  

“It wasn’t a joke.  And, I don’t see why it’s that funny.  It’s true,” Doyle finally announced, cutting short their merriment.  He’d been rudely interrupted from a sound sleep and their laughter at his expense was starting to grate on his nerves. 

Buffy stopped chuckling and glared at Doyle.  

“Right, because I get sucked into some alternate dimension where vampires are the norm and I’m not supposed to think it’s funny.  Oh, and lets throw in some destiny crap for added good measure.” 

“It’s not an alternate dimension. It’s the past,” Spike commented. 

“Sure seems like it to me,” she argued back.  “And, when I want your two cents, I’ll ask for it.” 

“Look, sla…Buffy,” Doyle began. 

The growl overrode whatever he’d been about to say. 

“You bitch,” Spike snarled, stalking towards her. 

She stood her ground, refusing to back down.  He was a vampire; she needed to remind herself of that.  So what if they were married.  It wasn’t real.  None of this was real.  As soon as she got back to her own time, this whole nightmare would cease to exist. 

“Spike.  Now isn’t the time,” Doyle told the vampire.  He really didn’t want to be here when these two came to blows. 

“Stay out of this, Doyle.” 

“Look…she hasn’t had time to adjust to all this.  You’ve had over a month to get acclimated.  Cut her some slack.” 

“No.” 

“Spike.” 

“Back off.” 

Spike tilted his neck from side to side, the bones of his face rippling as his demon came to the fore.  He rounded the corner of the bed as he moved towards the slayer, determined to put her in her place. 

Buffy was scared, but she’d be damned before she’d admit it.  Her eyes looked about the room for a weapon and she turned and ran towards the chair several feet away to break off one of its legs and use it as a makeshift stake.  She felt Spike grab the blanket clutched about her body and let go of the gathered edges so she could keep moving. Ignoring the growl that indicated his increased ire, she finally reached the chair, snapping off one of its legs as she turned to confront the pissed off vampire closing in on her. 

She assumed a defensive pose and waiting for a moment to strike.  When he got close enough, her arm reared back, ready to deliver the final blow… 

“STOP!” 

The slayer froze where she was, her nude body nearly vibrating with adrenaline.  She couldn’t move.  Why couldn’t she move?  Helpless, she just stared as he came closer…her eyes going wide at the violence of his gaze. 

“Drop it,” he commanded. 

The wooden stick slipped carelessly from her opened hand. 

“Spike…wha-what have you…you…done to me?” she asked breathlessly. 

He stopped in front of her, blocking her from the other demon’s gaze.  His arm snaked out, gripping her hair and bending her head back, exposing the long column of her neck.   

“’S not what I’ve done, pet.  It’s what you’ve done.”  He lowered his head and ran his tongue along her neck. 

“Yours.  Now and forever.” 

“No…”  She tried to shake her head, but her hair was held firmly in his grasp. 

“Do I need to show you again?  You’re mine…‘n I’ll not have you talkin’ to me like that…even if you are the bloody slayer,” he murmured in her ear.  The softness of his tone in no way disguised the menace in his voice.   

It sent a chill down her spine. 

“Sorry…I’m sorry…” she mumbled into his neck. ‘Why am I apologizing?’ 

“Mmmm… yes.  I can see that you are.  Tell me, slayer,” he whispered in her ear, his tongue tracing along the outer rim.  “Did your watcher ever explain to you the finer dynamics of vampires?” 

“No?” came the rhetorical question at the slight negative shake of her head.  He sucked on her bottom lobe, smirking around the flesh in his mouth when he smelled the heady scent of her arousal. 

“Tsk, tsk.  How can you be an effective slayer without having all of your weapons at your disposal?” 

“Giles…said…said took one look at me and…and…threw out…threw out the Slayer handbook.”   

She bit her lip to keep from groaning as his fang pricked her skin.  In a flash, his human mask was back in place, and blunt teeth and soft lips surrounded the small puncture wound he’d made.  Buffy gripped his arms and her knees gave way as he sucked on her neck.  

‘Oh god.’ 

She would have fallen to the floor, but Spike had looped an arm around her back and brought her body flush against his.  The mini orgasm that swept through her body astounded her.  God, he’d only been sucking on her neck!  And yet, it had been enough to turn her legs to jello. 

A throat clearing sounded in the otherwise quiet room. 

“Bugger off, mate.” 

“Yeah, well.  I’m ready to. Trust me.  Although, I sense after this visit, you won’t be seeing me anymore, so I suggest you listen to what I have to say.” 

‘Oh god.  How could he just make me completely forget about Doyle?’  

She panicked, struggling against his grip, unmindful of the growl that emanated from his throat.  She needed to put some distance between him and her… and fast. 

“Lemme go…” she begged quietly.  “Please…” 

Spike’s eyes narrowed on the slayer’s reddened face.  Confusion, embarrassment, shame.  He sighed unnecessarily, unsure why he relented to her plea.  Maybe it was the way she sounded almost like “Elizabeth.” He walked her backwards towards the screen, shielding her body the entire time, and let her hide behind its protective barrier.   

He’d forgotten for a moment that she was human, still had those shy tendencies vampires discarded the moment they’re turned.  He’d give her this reprieve since Doyle was here, and he wanted to hear what the half-breed had to say. 

He turned away from the partition and moved to grab a nightgown from the wardrobe.  He remembered teasing her unmercifully while she packed her nightclothes, watched as she blushed at his comment about not needing the garments while they were here; not like she’d worn one since they’d been married.  Guess the joke had been on him, now that the slayer was back in control. 

“Here, put this on,” he told her, shoving it into her hands. 

“I…thank you…”  

Spike nodded once before turning on his heel and rejoining Doyle on the other side of the bedroom, sitting down in the other chair situated in front of the fireplace. Neither said a word as they waited for the slayer to get dressed and join them.   

Buffy glanced down at the garment Spike had thrust in her hand and quickly settled it over her head.  The soft, pale material covered her from neck to toes, and she breathed a sigh of relief that she was somewhat decent.  Not wanting to put off Doyle’s story any longer, she slipped from behind the screen and walked over to the two men sitting before the fireplace. 

They’d taken the only two seats, leaving her wondering just where exactly she was going to sit— 

Until Spike grabbed her arm and pulled her down on his lap.  She flopped into his lap, instinctively wanting to protest, but visions of a repeat performance from early caused her to bite her lip against the retort just dying to spill from her mouth.  Glancing over to Doyle, she noticed he didn’t look repulsed by her actions. If anything, he seemed delighted for some reason.  Weird.  But, his reaction, or lack thereof, made it easier for her to recline back against Spike’s chest and get comfortable. 

She still felt slightly uneasy sitting there in her enemy’s lap, so she suddenly became fascinated with her hands. Staring down at them as she fidgeted nervously with the ring on her left finger as she waited for Doyle to start talking. 

“Pull that off and I’ll beat you within an inch of your life,” he snarled softly in her ear. 

“Wha?  No…I wasn’t…” 

Not mollified in the least, Spike lifted his head from the slayer’s ear and barked at the half-breed to explain himself. 

“Sla…Buffy.  I’m not sure exactly what Spike’s told you, but things are a little different in the past.  For one thing, vampires roam freely amongst humans in this time.” 

Her head shot up at that statement, astonishment clearly evident on her features.  The latest altercation with Spike over the ring forgotten as she stared dumbfounded at the Powers’ messenger. 

“What?  How?  What about the slayer?” 

“Different country entirely.  Attitudes are different there…although, that’s going to change soon.” 

“Huh?” 

“Change.  Change is coming.  And soon.  Within the next twenty…twenty-five years, Europe will join the rest of the world…” 

“Whoa…wait!  Twenty-five years?  What do I care what happens in twenty-five years?  I’m sure I’ll be home and all this will be history.” 

Behind her, Spike rolled his eyes at her inadvertent pun.  His grip on her tightened almost imperceptibly, sensing where Doyle was going with his story.  For now, he held his tongue.  Figured he’d let the half-breed say his piece and hopefully allay any of the slayer’s anxiety at their current situation – he really didn’t want to have to keep coaxing her to him night after night.  Much better for her to just accept what had happened and lose that contrary stubborn position she’d clung to since regaining her memories. 

“I’m afraid not, Buffy.  Your presence will be instrumental in the coming battle.” 

“You’re saying that I have to stay here?  In the past?  For nearly twenty-five years?” 

Doyle just nodded. 

“Are you OUT OF YOUR MIND?!  I’m not going to spend the remainer of my life locked in the past.  And, twenty-five years??  I’ll probably be dead in another two.  Slayer here, remember?  Short life expectancy…” 

“Spike took care of that for you,” Doyle announced. 

“Wha?” 

“He’s claimed you.  You belong to him now.” 

“Come again.” 

Seeing her confused look, he explained. 

“You’re never going to get any older.  Your face is never going to age.  As long as Spike is alive, you’ll be alive.  In essence, he’s gifted you with his own immortality.” 

Buffy couldn’t have been more shocked if he’d told her that Martians had landed on the moon and were plotting with the devil to take over the world.  

“So…so you’re saying, I’m stuck here?  Until whatever is going to happen in twenty-five years happens?  Then what?  Do I get to go home?  What about my mom?  My friends?  Giles?”  Angel’s name she voiced silently. 

Spike knew; however, and once more that possessive growl kicked in.  He’d be damned if she’d be mooning over the poofter for the next twenty-five years. 

“Time’s different here.  Not sure if I can explain it right, but essentially, you’re the past.  You’ve already happened. Everything you’ve done… everything you will do… it’s already history to them. So, your twenty-five years here? It’s like a drop in the bucket in your time.” 

She didn’t bother to try to understand that one.  Right now she was so confused and wanted nothing more than to huddle into a ball until she woke from the nightmare her life had suddenly become.  She curled instinctively into Spike, knowing he’d look out for her…keep her safe.  Her eyes closed and she rested her head against his chest.  She’d probably have questions for Doyle tomorrow.  But, right now, she just wanted the oblivion of sleep to overtake her. 

“Nothing to say, Spike?” Doyle asked the vampire when the slayer went silent. 

Spike’s look said it all. 

“Yeah, well, like I said.  Just the messenger here.” 

“Guess this means you’re off for good this time?” 

“Think so.  But, I’ll be stopping in from time to time.  Keep you two on the right path.  Besides, you play a wicked game of chess.” 

Spike snorted and glanced down at the sleeping slayer.  When he lifted his head, the half-breed was gone.

tbc...

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