Chapter 1 4

 

Giles and Wesley turned to the door in surprise as a Slayer whirlwind of the Kennedy variety barged into the library.  She drew breath to speak and with the presence of mind gained by his many years as a Watcher, Giles was at her side and placing a finger on her lips.  After translating the text both men had agreed that Angel’s plan was to get to Buffy, and to do so in the most damaging way possible.  They also weren’t under any illusions that Angel was too honest to have them watched, and it was vital he believed that they’d fallen for his whole prophecy ploy.  So for now – the least said, the better. 

“Hey!  Hands off, man!” 

Kennedy was in spoilt rich kid mode, hands on hips and affronted sneer firmly in place.   

“Now, Kennedy, you were about to start shouting and you know perfectly well this is a library.  Can you at least pretend to respect your surroundings?” 

“What the…” 

“No, Kennedy.   I’m sure you don’t want to disturb Wesley and me.  So if you can stay calm and remember where you are…” 

“Whatever.  Look, Willow sent me to get you guys.  She’s all –“ 

“Ah yes… Willow.”  Giles interrupted Kennedy before she went any further.  “Just the person we need to see about this translation.  A fresh pair of eyes might do the trick.  Wesley, would you care to accompany me?” 

“Yes, yes – of course.  Shall we leave now?” 

“I don’t see why not.  The scroll seems very precise, we just need the final piece.” 

Both watchers spoke in even tones that belied their anxious mood.  They eyed each other in tacit agreement and gathered up their things, the scroll chief amongst them, then gripping Kennedy by the elbows they almost frogmarched her from the room.  Her protests at the manhandling were colourful and inventive but the watchers ignored her, bundled her – almost spitting with fury – into the elevator that would take them to the ground floor and out of the belly of the beast. 

“Let go of me!  I swear if you so much as…” 

“Kennedy, be quiet,” Giles hissed.  “We’re coming with you.  But don’t you understand the seriousness of our position here?  Wolfram and Hart isn’t safe for any of us.  Now shush.  When we get to the lobby try to act naturally, we’re just strolling out of there, off to see Willow.  Nothing underhand about that.” 

Giles was whispering furiously as he waved his glasses about to press home his point.  He was thankful that Kennedy appeared to be cooperating – a first for the opinionated brat in his experience.  Above all though, he was thankful that Willow had declined Angel’s invitation to use one of the guest rooms at Wolfram and Hart in favour of a standard motel room about five minutes away.  At least there they could talk. 

The elevator doors opened and the trio walked across the wide expanse of the lobby.  There were anxious moments halfway across when a security guard walked towards them but thankfully he simply smiled, mumbled a greeting and continued on to the reception desk.   

Giles could dissemble with the best of them, but now his heart was pounding so much he was surprised it wasn’t echoing off the marble walls.  He plastered a smile on his face as he suppressed the urge to sprint to the doors.  The place was seriously unnerving.  Expecting a hand to grip his shoulder any minute, the back of his neck prickling in anticipation, Giles passed through the doorway and out of the building.  Only then did he release the breath he hadn’t known he was holding. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

The hospital room was quiet after all the activity and noise that had followed Dawn’s relapse.  She was once again comatose, her still form even more shocking to the two onlookers after their brief respite earlier; only the hiss and beep of machines proclaiming that the patient was still alive. 

Spike hadn’t let go of his hold on Buffy, simply cradling her against him as they watched the medics work on Dawn after the light show.  When the doctors had left, assuring Buffy that Dawn was no worse than before and that they would be monitoring her condition constantly, Spike dragged the chair nearer to the bed with a free hand and dropped into the seat, pulling Buffy into his lap.  They hadn’t spoken of the fact that the arms around her were most definitely not of the ghostly variety, reluctant to jinx the moment.  Both were anxiously trying to master their thoughts before they voiced any opinions. 

Buffy’s eyes flickered between the prone figure on the bed and the pale fingers tracing circles on her arm where it rested across Spike’s.  She felt almost panicked at the feelings running through her.  The moment Dawn opened her eyes she’d felt such a rush of happiness and relief, and to be able to share it with Spike…it was almost too much, too intense. Then to have that happiness ripped apart in a blur…  But now for the first time there was calm, and Buffy found her senses being overwhelmed by the reality of Spike’s presence.  She was where she’d never dreamt she’d be, perching on her vampire’s lap, the very real lap, with his very real and solid arms holding her close to his very real chest as he murmured against her ear and kissed her hair – it was miraculous.  But it hadn’t escaped her notice that Spike’s becoming corporeal had coincided with Dawn’s relapse.   

She dreaded to think what it could actually mean.  So, she just wasn’t going to – not yet.  Thinking was on downtime, and that’s the way she was keeping it. 

Spike knew what she’d be thinking; contrary to certain people’s opinions of him, he wasn’t stupid.  The coming and going he’d been doing?  He had no clue what that meant or where he went to: in fact, why the hell was he resurrected in the first place?  But after the recent fireworks it didn’t take a genius to figure out that somehow Dawn’s coma and his existence were now linked.  And he’d bet his slightly tarnished soul that somewhere along the line Angel was pulling the strings like they were his puppets.  It was all just too neat to be coincidence.  But what could he do about it?  Would Buffy believe that Angel was involved?   The others would be open to it; Lorne had alerted them to the probability that Angel was slipping back into Angelus-mode.  But Buffy?  Another kettle of fish altogether. 

Spike became aware that Buffy’s breathing had evened out and her body lay heavy against him.  She’d fallen asleep, exhausted from the days of scant rest and the emotional turmoil of the past few hours.  He stroked her hair considering what to do.  She’d be royally pissed if she woke up and wasn’t at Dawn’s side but it’d be worth it if she got a decent bit of shuteye.  Mind made up, he carefully got to his feet, holding her slight form to his chest.  He loved the ‘Bit, he truly did – but Buffy came first.  Determined to make her recharge her batteries he strode from the room and away to seek out a bed. 

When he reached the doorway of the room they’d shared for those brief moments that seemed a whole lifetime ago, he struggled to open the door, having to shift the Slayer against one shoulder whilst he wrestled with the lock.  She didn’t even stir and his heart swelled with love for her as he gazed at the sweep of her eyelashes as they fluttered, the slightly open mouth and flushed cheeks.  She gave so much of herself to the people she loved – hell she’d given her life twice - that there was little left for herself.   He laughed softly – amazing how good it felt to know he was included in the group of people Buffy loved.  She loved him, and she was his world.  But then again, she had been from the day she’d shimmied into his life in the Bronze and started invading his system bit by delicious bit.   

Finally entering the haven of the room, he laid her on the bed and gently slipped off her boots.  She didn’t stir so he decided to undress her, knowing she’d be more comfortable.  His hands shook, suddenly nervous to touch her knowing that finally she truly loved him as he loved her.  He carefully eased her jeans down, then her sweater… until all of her golden skin was bared to his gaze.  There was no trace of lust in him; all he felt was protective, and filled with love.  She’d turned him upside down, inside out.  Here he was with a naked woman in bed, vulnerable and unprotected, and all he wanted to do was wrap her up safe and cosy.  Nobody would believe him if he told them. 

Spike settled the sheet and comforter over her and kissed her forehead.  Still out for the count.   He reached for the telephone at the side of the bed, marvelling still that he had the capacity to do so.  He just wanted to check in with Red, ask her to sit with Dawn for a while.  But of course, he didn’t have her number and didn’t want to go through the switchboard… and he wasn’t about to leave Buffy either – he’d have to trust to the medical staff to do their jobs.  Maybe later, when he was sure she was settled, he’d go and look for Tex, fill her in on the latest developments.  Right now, he had to hold her… while he could. 

He shrugged off his duster; eyes glued to the blonde vision snuggled into the pillows.  His black t-shirt followed, then the boots quickly off and denims shoved down to join his other clothes in a crumpled heap on the floor.  Standing naked and proud, he drew in a ragged breath as he realised the enormity of the moment.  He was about gain his heart’s desire, to lie with Buffy on equal terms.  No more scratching an itch, no longer beneath her – she loved him.  It made everything right.  He moved to the bed and slid next to her warm body, nestling up behind her and snaking an arm round her waist to draw her tight against his chest.  Buffy moved in her sleep; arching her back and slipping a leg between his, her hand taking his and holding it to her breast.  She sighed in contentment and whispered… 

“I love you.” 

And he cried like the soft git he was, his poet’s heart unable to contain the joy of holding the woman he loved in his arms. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Willow was staring into a bowl of black ink when the two Watchers and Kennedy came through the door.  She raised a hand to forestall any interruption, her eyes dark and unfocused.  Giles twitched nervously when he caught a glimpse of her eyes – it took him back to Evil Veiny Willow, lost in her power and destruction.  His stomach knotted as he waited for what came next.  Kennedy hadn’t told them why Willow wanted to see them; he just hoped it wasn’t because she wanted to practice her flaying technique on Watcher skin.  He shocked himself with his attitude.  Outwardly he’d forgiven Willow, accepted that her work with the Coven and her Goddess-status in the Hellmouth battle gave her a redemption leg-up.  But somehow inside he’d always remember being slammed about the Magic Box; and he was still wary of her ability to control her powers.   

A few moments later, Willow’s red hair billowed as a rush of air shot through the room.  Her eyes returned to their normal green and she smiled at the visitors. 

“Hi guys!  Sorry about the bossy summons but I needed to see you right away, But as Angel’s being all Bruto at the moment, I didn’t want to rattle his cage.  Was just communicating with Althanea – she says hi by the way.” 

Giles smiled weakly, his relief at seeing Willow was still Willow translating into wobbly legs and a feeling of shame that he doubted her.  The foursome took seats around the room, Willow holding court on the bed with Kennedy sitting at her feet on the floor, Giles and Wesley leaning on the window sill and the dressing table respectively.   

“So – I think I know what’s going on with Angel.  I was searching the ether earlier, trying to see if I could pick up on anything off kilter; I know – looking for needle in a haystack, but it was just a whim.  Then kapow – something hit me, something powerful and not good.  I believe Angel put Dawn in a coma and now he’s using Dawn and Spike in a trade-off.” 

She expected shock, anger, maybe even denial, but definitely not the resigned look passing between the Watchers, and Giles’ next words. 

“Yes, we’d reached the same conclusion.” 

“Oh.  Well, that’s kinda popped my balloon.  How did you find out?” 

“The prophecy…well, I’d have to say the ‘fake prophecy’, I suppose.  It unravelled far too easily, too many clues.   Once we identified the root language it only took us a couple of hours and that’s simply unprecedented.   It can’t possibly be a genuine prophecy.”  Giles looked over to Wesley to continue. 

“Yes.  I concur.  And coupled with the information we gleaned from Lorne’s disclosure, the obvious culprit is Angel.  Though I can’t imagine what he hopes to achieve by it.” 

“Buffy.  That’s what he hopes to achieve.” 

All eyes turned to Kennedy, various degrees of puzzlement clouding them. 

“Oh come on!  It’s so obvious – Buffy comes to LA all broken, spills the beans about Spike being the love of her life – yadda yadda.   Ok, not everyone’s picture of Romeo and Juliet - the Slayer pining for the undead - but we deal.  Makes sense, after spending the last couple of months with them.  And Angel gets really pissed about it, there’s Spike gone in a big blaze of fiery glory and she’s still mooning over him.  And doesn’t he do a great Mr Sympathy?  But next thing she’s making plans to split, take Dawn and make a new life somewhere; a life without Angel.” 

“Do you know, I believe you’re right!  And what better way to keep Buffy in LA?”  Giles had whipped his glasses off as he came to understand the motivation behind Angel’s actions. 

“But keeping Dawn unconscious…  the slimy wicked bastard!”  Willow bounced off the bed.  “What’s Dawn ever done to him? I know I’ve been evil but that’s just twisted…   But hey…that explains Dawn, but what about Spike?” 

“Wesley and I believe that Spike’s materialisation was unplanned, a side effect of the magical forces Angel would have used to accomplish his plan.  We’re not really sure of anything after that; we still need to continue our research.  There’s not been time to discuss it much other than on our way here. But you said you were communicating with Althanea?  What did she have to say?  Does the Coven know anything?” 

“Nothing much -- but she did say that there’d been a huge surge of energy located in LA and the source was unknown.  According to Althanea, that much energy and disturbance in the natural flow of magic is usually only associated with a direct intervention from The Powers That Be.  So whatever the surge meant, it seems as if we’re not the only players in the game.  Other than that, I’d say we hit the books.  Again.  Kinda like déjà vu, huh Giles?” 

Willow and Giles shared a smile, remembering times past when things seemed so simple.  As she recalled hours they’d spent, books and donuts spread before them, the bonds forged by near and not so near misses with death, her heart clenched.  Xander should be here, helping, seeing things that nobody else did from his vantage point on the periphery of the action.  He always thought he was like the sidekick, the Zeppo; but Willow knew better than anyone how much he contributed by being able to see the whole rather than just his own little piece of mayhem.   But would he want to be involved in this?  Since Anya’s death he’d been withdrawing from them little by little, distancing himself by his actions.  And although Buffy’s fervent declaration of love for Spike had taken them all by surprise, they’d pretty much accepted it.  All of them, that is, except for Xander.  He was still rabidly anti-vampire and she doubted that’d be changing anytime soon.   

Kennedy startled them again.   “So who’s gonna tell Buffy?” 

There weren’t any eager volunteers. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

Buffy felt safe, cherished; she hadn’t felt like this since her brief sojourn in heaven.  She knew that the place she was in would protect her from any harm, would do anything to prevent her being hurt.  Her head was muzzy with sleep and she wasn’t really sure where she was, but she liked it.  Sleepily she blinked and tried to focus, the dreamy smile swallowed up by an almighty yawn as she stretched her aching limbs.  There was something she should be doing, wasn’t there?  Somewhere she should be? 

She noticed the pressure at her waist and looked down to see the pale arm that held her captive, the splayed fingers and definitely masculine build of the knuckles.  She smiled contentedly as she entwined her fingers with his.  Spike.   Spike’s hands; hands of Spike.   

Spike.  Here.  Solid.  Holding her.  Dawn! 

Behind her, the vampire was aware the second her breathing changed as she shrugged off the remnants of sleep.  He’d been waiting for her reaction, not sure how she would be once she realised where she was.  At first, she’d been confused then happy – now obviously she was in a panic as she remembered Dawn. 

“Shhh, love.  I know.  We’ll get straight back to her, but you needed some rest.” 

Buffy wriggled in his arms to turn and face him.  She knew she ought to be sprinting back to her sister’s side – but God help her, how could she when every inch of her was wanted nothing more than to be held in Spike’s embrace, skin to skin, his eyes burning into hers…  She warred against herself, duty to her sister vying against her desire to map his features, inhale his scent.  She had no idea how long this would last, what if this was never again… he could vanish into oblivion.  If she left now, would she ever be able to show him how much she loved him?  No, that was impossible; she had to touch him, taste him, love him while she could.  The battle showed in her eyes, now spilling over with salty tears. 

Spike was lost in her hazel eyes, dark with emotion and fixed on him.  There was no need for words; he knew what she was feeling because he felt it too.  Ever since the flash and pain of earlier when he’d been left with an actual physical presence, he’d been waiting for the other boot to drop.  Any minute now he expected to be struck by a spear of lightning and burned to ashes.  So this time together was too special, their connection so new, and he didn’t want to waste it. 

He was mesmerised by her nearness as she slowly raised her face to his, moistening her lips before bestowing upon him the sweetest kiss of his entire existence.  She licked and nibbled along his lower lip, the salt of her tears seasoning their joining and mingling with her essence to drown his senses.  Stifling a growl, Spike pulled her close not wanting an inch of space between them; instinctively Buffy wrapped her arms around him to play with the curls at the nape of his neck, her legs dragging him closer to her heat so that they lay entwined beneath the sheets.  Spike let her take the lead, not wanting to pressure her into doing something she didn’t want to, but Buffy had no intentions of wasting this chance to be with him after so long an abstinence, so much pain.  It was as if the uncertainty of his presence added extra meaning to the moments they had left and fuelled her desire. 

Buffy’s lips parted, deepening the kiss, languorously sliding her tongue across his and beckoning it to twist around hers.  This was perfect.  Lips firm yet yielding where they needed to be, the angle of the kiss allowing each of them taste the honey of the other’s mouth as they refused to part.   Spike’s hands were softly cradling Buffy’s face, his thumbs tracing along her jaw and up to her cheekbones as he marvelled at the feelings coursing through him.  With one kiss, she set his soul on fire, could send the blood racing through his useless veins to his heart, sluicing clean the poisoned gulf that had lain between them and make him want to sing with happiness.  William the Bloody Awful Poet would be hard-pressed to mess up a verse about her, such was her effect on him.  He was so entranced by the beauty and purity of the moment that his erection took him by surprise.   

Not Buffy though, she was fully prepared for his more earthy responses.  Her warm hand stroked his shaft and gripped him, causing a groan to escape the vampire’s lips.  Buffy smiled against his mouth as he almost choked.  Yeah, she had the power.  And she was going to use it, damn everything else!  Right now she was going to go with her instincts and seize the day.  And the man.  Her vampire. 

She started moving her fist, slowly pumping him to almost painful hardness whilst simultaneously sucking on his tongue.  Spike moaned against her mouth, his philosophical musings melting away in the fire of her passion.  His hands left her face to grip her shoulders as he pushed her onto her back, spreading her legs so that he could rock his groin up against her heat.  The poet retreated in the face of Spike’s ‘want, take, have’ vampire mentality.  And he wanted Buffy.  He was going to take her; he was going to have her. 

It had been far too long for both of them; this wouldn’t be all hearts and flowers.  Emotions were raw and primal; they both needed to act on the hunger coursing through them, reaffirm their existence in each other.  Slow and tender would have to wait for another time.  A time they may not have. 

Buffy gazed up into his golden eyes; she’d never made love to him while he wore his demon face, which he was already struggling to throw off.  He growled deep in his throat as she brought her hands up to caress his ridged brow stopping him from reverting to his human features.  Avidly she traced every inch of his face with her fingertips, her eyes locked with his, showing him that she loved all of him.  When her fingers reached his mouth, she slid one inside searching for his fangs. She flinched as one razor sharp edge nicked her finger, but the sting was rapidly taken over by startling pleasure as Spike’s tongue rasped along the wound to gather up the blood.  Buffy’s eyes widened; how could a lick to her finger do that…and what would his bite given in passion be like? 

Spike heard the racing of her heart, saw the flush to her face and neck.  Her scent surrounded him and the taste of her blood was calling him to claim it, claim her and make her his mate.  He could feel something new growing inside him.  He dipped his mouth closer to her jaw, his breath stirring the tendrils of hair clinging to her face.  The pounding of the blood in her veins was seeping into him and drawing him ever nearer.  His voice was raw with need as he whispered against her ear, saying everything he felt but not asking for what he yearned for so much. 

“Buffy…do you feel that…can’t believe we’re…Buffy love…” 

“God, Spike…yes…I need you to…please…now… we’ve been given this time…” 

When she tilted her head back and pressed his mouth to her neck, he groaned and started to trail his mouth down her throat, awed at the gift she was offering.  Easing her legs further apart, he settled his cock at her slick outer folds; Buffy raised her hips gasping as the tip slid to her entrance, and then moaning as he licked along the line of her jugular up to her ear. 

“Got to make you mine, Buffy.” he whispered hoarsely, thrusting deep inside her and sinking his fangs into her neck to produce a combined sensation that had her screaming his name.   

‘Oh god!  I can really feel him, with me, inside me… he’s part of me…’ 

The pain of his bite was replaced by waves of pleasure as he took shallow pulls of her blood, her nipples so hard and sensitive it was almost painful as he crushed her to his chest.  Thrusting slowly as one hand caressed her thigh, he lifted her knee to open her further to him.  His pace increased as he sought to absorb her – she was consuming him, her heartbeat pounding through him as she raised her hips to meet his every thrust.  She was lost, eyelids fluttering and breath coming in harsh gasps as she felt her orgasm build.  Every swallow of her blood drawing him deeper into her until she was close to the edge, then tumbling over into oblivion when he snarled, “MINE,” against her neck.  Instinct took over as she rode out the waves of pleasure, clawing at his back and tightening her legs around him.  Then she sank her teeth into his neck, sucking his blood and tasting its tang on her tongue.  Her reward was a strangled cry from her vampire as he lost control and climaxed hard, her muscles still milking him, captive inside her.  Wonder, pain, pleasure, and need, swirling through and around them. Joining them – making them whole. 

Her eyes opened to see his shocked blue orbs fixed on her, demon melted away as he realised what had just happened.   

“MINE” she growled, grinning at the stupefied look on his face.   

“Yours” they whispered together before sealing their union with a kiss.