Chapter 28

Buffy sat in the middle of the bed in the master bedroom she shared with Spike.  It was late – very late.  She’d stared unseeing for several hours as the candles littered about the room slowly burned down to nothing, their soft glow and the roar of the fire the only light in the spacious room.   

Spike had told her earlier that he was going to his club and would be back later.  Had stormed into the room with barely concealed anger tightly coiled throughout his body.  On the one hand, she had been grateful to have the room to herself.  Silently telling herself that she was thankful he’d left her to her own devices, even if it were only for a little while.  Even if it was a lie she told herself.  Honestly, she didn’t know what to think of her situation.  Didn’t know what to feel.  The revelations shared by Doyle, the Powers’ messenger, had left her confused and floundering.  His easygoing manner with Spike unnerving her.  His lack of condemnation over her arrangement with the blond vampire confounding her.  She just didn’t know what to think anymore. 

They’d been back from the vampire gathering for a week now.  One long, torturous week spent twiddling her fingers in Spike’s study during the daylight hours while he slept upstairs, escaping his embrace as soon as she woke – guilt flooding every pore of her being as she relived the previous night’s debauchery while ensconced in her safe haven.  The way he’d coax her to him with a look, a whispered command.  Bringing her body untold pleasure once she capitulated, screaming his name as she begged for him to take her. 

She would glance at the volumes of books laid out about the room – a bittersweet reminder of home…and the school’s library.  She told herself she stayed here while he slept to feel closer to home. Closer to her friends and watcher. Again it was a lie.  Somewhere deep inside, she came here to be close to him.  Like an invisible link she was drawn to him, and at least here she could be near his essence without appearing as if she needed him.  

Her fingers played with the ring on her left ring finger, watching as the ruby caught the waning light of the candle, making the stone appear to burst into flames upon her hand.  Again her mind drifted back, her memories more comforting that the emotion plaguing her being.   

She’d stayed locked in her room for the remainder of the gathering, and Spike had not objected.  Although, the other vampires couldn’t tell she was the slayer, he’d not wanted her to socialize with anyone without him being present.  Didn’t want her to inadvertently slip and say something inappropriate now that the veil of her amnesia was gone.  He’d told her that he’d let the others know that she’d come down with some slight affliction that had left her feeling under the weather.  And, she thought he’d taken perverse delight in letting her know her “friends” were asking after her, were hoping that she was feeling better soon and able to join in the festivities. 

She hadn’t, and after the week came to a close, she’d managed to escape into their coach without coming into contact with anyone else. 

Her head lifted from her silent musings at a noise she thought she might have heard.  But it was nothing.  Well, it may have been something.  But, it wasn’t him.  It wasn’t Spike.  She was still alone.  Sitting in the middle of the bed, nothing more than her thoughts for company. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Buffy was still alone an hour later when she suddenly jumped out of bed.  She needed to talk to someone and immediately visions of a dark-haired vampiress sprung to mind.  Agitation getting the best of her, she paused only long enough to grab a robe and drape it over her gossamer gown before exiting her room and racing down the steps.  Her bare feet barely made a sound as she hurried across the bare floor, flung open the door, and ran out into the night.  She didn’t stop to think about how she was going to find her destination, her mind solely on reaching the one person that could help her deal with what she was going through.  In her frantic state of mind, she didn’t realize that times were different, and a woman alone couldn’t just race through the night and ask someone for directions, especially garbed as she was. 

The supple material of her gown and robe hugged her lithe frame as she ran down the block; her long, dark hair fluttering behind her as the slight breeze grabbed the silken tresses and whipped them about her head.  To the two men lurking in the shadows, she was a ripe plum just waiting to be plucked.  They slipped from their hiding place and set out after the girl. 

A block later, the slayer stopped.  Her head moved from side to side in an attempt to recognize something familiar. A small scrap that told her she was on the right track. Anything that would say she was getting close to her destination.  So intent was she on her objective, she failed to hear the men close in on her.   

The blow to the back of her head sent her to her knees.  Before she had a chance to recover, she felt her body being dragged behind some bushes.  Their stench nearly overwhelmed her, enervating her muscles into pushing them off of her.   

She was out of shape.  The last six weeks she’d not lifted the first finger in self-defense, and her body was slow to react.  Her coordination off as she tried to connect first to her assailants’ face. 

The angry growls came as a shock, and Buffy thought fleetingly that she was going to meet her demise tonight, and she laughed ironically that she’d not be around to see her “destiny” fulfilled.  When the slimy hands of her attackers were suddenly ripped from her body, she glanced up and stared in confusion as two vampires quickly drained the lives of the two men that had dared touch her while a third reached down to assist her to her feet.  She stared at the demon’s outstretched hand, perplexed.  Why weren’t they killing her? 

“Lady Thornton…let me help you.  It’s not safe for you to be out here alone.  Where is your husband?” 

“Renee,” she babbled, hysteria welling up inside her until her body began to shake with residual adrenaline.  “Ren…Mar-Marchioness…Lady…Lady Atherton.  Need…need to see…to see her.” 

Viscount Sotheby crouched down beside Lord Thornton’s wife, his arm slipping behind her back to assist her to her feet. 

“Alric, run ahead and make sure the Marchioness is in.  James, find the earl and let him know what has transpired.  He’ll probably be at the club.” 

“No!” Buffy yelled. “Just…just take me to Renee…please?” 

“Certainly, Lady Thornton,” Clayton soothed, guiding her to the street and walking beside her towards the Marchioness’ townhouse.  James had fallen into step behind the pair, but at a glance back from the Viscount, he slipped off and began his search for the master vampire.

Lady Atherton was indeed in, and she stood waiting on her steps with Alric as they came into sight.  Seeing the disheveled human, she tore down the steps and quickly embraced the girl, soothing her as she began to cry.  Renee looked over at Clayton, her brow arched in a silent question. 

“We found her like this, being assaulted by human riffraff.” 

There were cuts and bruises on her upper arms, the smell of her blood tantalizing their senses. 

“Come, Elizabeth…let’s get you inside, shall we?” 

Renee waved the two men off as she swept across the threshold, her pointed look leaving no doubts as to their next assignment.  The earl needed to be found.   

Immediately. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Buffy offered no protest as she was led upstairs into Renee’s suite of rooms.  Upon entering, the vampiress instructed her maid to draw a warm bath, and the two waited a few minutes until the servant reappeared with several men carrying buckets of steaming water to fill the tub.  Dismissing her maid, Renee directed Elizabeth behind the screen and into the soothing water. 

The heated water enveloped her body as the slayer sank down in the basin until just her head peaked over the rim.  She flinched slightly when she felt the vampiress at her back, but relaxed when Renee did no more than wash her hair and back, performing the lady’s maid-type chore as if it were an honor bestowed upon her.  That minor task seen to, the Marchioness left the girl alone to retrieve a cloth so that Elizabeth could dry herself off, draping it over the screen before turning away to find something for the girl to wear.  Although the same build, the vampiress was a few inches taller than the girl, so settled on gowning her in a replacement nightgown and robe.  She’d have someone sent round to the earl’s home for a proper set of clothing, figuring the duchess would stay the night here.  Laying the outfit on her bed, she rang for her maid.  The soft-spoken girl answered the summons within moments and quickly set about removing her mistress’ evening gown and undergarments so Renee could dress for bed. 

She had just finished when she heard the ripple in the water announcing Elizabeth’s departure from the tub.  The vampiress thought she looked so lost when she slipped from behind the screen, her wet hair hanging about her body as she clung tightly to the cloth draped around her.  Renee ignored the blush tingeing the girl’s cheeks and assisted her with getting dried off and dressed.  Grabbing her hand, the Marchioness settled her upon the floor before the fire so that she could brush the girl’s hair to allow it to dry. 

Buffy closed her eyes at the soothing touch of the brush gliding through her hair.  Her eyes closed in delight, and she gave herself over to the gentle caress.  If it weren’t for the tinglies snaking up and down her spine, she could imagine that it was Willow sitting behind her calmly brushing her hair.   

The slayer didn’t move long after the brush was removed from her head.  Even though she was in a vampire’s home, was actually sitting before one in such a vulnerable position, she didn’t fear her.  Before she remembered who, and what, she was, they’d been friends.  Close friends.  Their bond similar to that of hers and Willow’s.  It was why Buffy had come, sought her out even though she’d not been sure of where Renee had lived. 

She needed to talk to someone.  Share these feelings buried deep inside.  Elizabeth had trusted Renee with her darkest secrets.  Buffy just hoped that she could do the same. 

Gazing off into the flames, her arms wrapped around her drawn up legs, Buffy’s whispered words seemed like gunshots in the otherwise silent room. 

“My name is Buffy.  I’m…I’m the slayer.” 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Renee just sat there and waited.  And listened.  She could hear the girl’s heart hammering in her chest as she told her story.  Everything about how she’d come to be here, her thoughts and feelings as she’s been “Elizabeth,” when her memories returned, and the visit from the Powers’ messenger. 

Through it all, the vampiress had remained quiet, letting the words spill from the girl huddled in front of her.  When she was finished, when the last word left Buffy’s lips and she began to cry in earnest, Renee slipped from her chair and sat beside her.  Her arms wrapped instinctively around the sobbing girl, pulling her back against her body.  That small act of kindness seemed to be the other’s undoing, because she wept even harder, her grief so great, that at times, no sound seemed to emerge from her throat.  Renee wasn’t sure how long Buffy cried, but when the slayer finally wound down, she spoke. 

“Surely the fact that you’re stuck in the past for an undetermined amount of time isn’t cause for your tears.  What is it that really has you upset?”  Renee’s hand reached out and soothed the hair from the other girl’s face, urging Buffy to lift her head and meet her gaze. 

Buffy’s eyes met that of her friend’s and she was surprised at the compassion she saw lingering in their depths. 

“Why are you not attacking me?” the slayer blurted out suddenly.  “I mean, slayer here…” 

Renee chuckled lightly, her lips turned up in a slight smile. 

“Well, for one thing, the earl would have my head if I laid a hand on you.  And, well…you’re my friend.  At least I hope you’re my friend.” 

“It’s just…” 

“I know…but, we’re alike, you and I.” 

“How?” 

The vampiress just looked at Buffy, her brow arched.  The slayer wracked her brain of every conversation she’d ever had with the Marchioness, her eyes going wide as she remembered the story of her turning. 

“You knew beforehand.  Before you were turned.  About vampires.” 

“Yes.” 

“And it didn’t scare you?  Disgust you?  To have feelings for one of them?” 

Renee’s eyes flashed amber, slightly darker than her natural color, as she tamped down her rage.   

“That’s what this is about.” 

Buffy hung her head, surprised at the shame she felt at the other’s censure.  

“It’s just…he’s evil.  You’re evil.  And, I’m the slayer.  I shouldn’t be here.  I shouldn’t have friends…vampire friends.  But…” 

“But things aren’t all black and white, are they?” 

“No,” Buffy whispered.  And therein lay the problem. 

“Is it the claim?  Is that what’s making me feel this way?” the slayer asked.  She was desperate for any excuse.  Something that would explain away these burgeoning feelings she had for one blond-headed vampire.  Her husband. 

“You know the answer to that.” 

“But…” 

“What are you so scared of?  It’s ok to love him.  Elizabeth did.  Loved him with an intensity rarely seen among the ton.  Or vampires, for that matter.  And, though you have your memories back, you’re still her.  A woman deeply in love with her husband.” 

“But he’s evil,” she cried. 

“And yet, he’s claimed you as his.  Has gifted you with his name and protection.  Has done everything asked of him so far from these ‘Powers’ for this destiny you two seem ordained to share.” 

Buffy’s mouth worked, opening and closing around thoughts that couldn’t be put to words.  She stared at the vampiress, her young mind giving voice to all the teachings of Merrick and then Giles. 

“Things happen for a reason, Buffy.  For you, you were meant to be here, with William.  These Powers seem to want you together.  What more confirmation do you need?” 

She couldn’t answer her. 

“Come…let’s get you to bed.  Clayton and the others are out looking for your husband right now, and it’s safe to say that you’ll need to get what sleep you can.  He’s not going to be happy when he shows up here.” 

Buffy nodded and stood, allowing herself to be guided down to the guest quarters.  A fire was blazing in the hearth and she slipped between the covers allowing Renee to settle the blankets around her body.  Without a word, she turned and left the room. 

“Renee?” 

The vampiress stopped at the door, glancing back over her shoulder at the dark-haired slayer. 

“I…thank you.  For listening.  For being my friend.” 

Renee nodded once, smiling softly. 

“Rest, child.” 

Needing no further urging, Buffy snuggled into the pillows and closed her eyes. 

Chapter 29

When James arrived at Whitt’s he was dismayed to see that the earl had already left.  He was just about to head to Lord Thornton’s townhouse to seek out the master vampire when he was stopped by the gentlemen’s club’s butler and informed that he’d seen the vampire headed towards the docks.  The seedier side of town.  Grinning at the prospect of a fresh meal, even though his veins were still pumping with the blood of one of the men that had dared assault the countess, the young vampire set out after the earl. 

The sounds of a brawl reached the sensitive vampire’s ears, followed quickly by the scent of human blood.  A smile lighting his face, James strolled into the dilapidated building; the faded sign swinging over the door heralding his arrival at The Dark Pearl. 

His eyes roamed over the fight playing out in front of him, the smile never leaving his lips as James punched a human in the face that thought he’d have an easy time taking him out.  Grabbing the mug of beer in the man’s hand before he fell unconscious to the floor, the dark-haired vampire guzzled its contents then slammed the empty container down on a table.  He didn’t bother jumping into the fray; the master vampire easily trounced all those that tried to take him on.  Instead, he just leaned up against the wall and watched the proceedings as one after another quickly met the blond-headed vampire’s fist, only to slump dazed to the dirty floor. 

A few minutes later, it was over, and James pushed away from the wall, stepping over bodies that littered the ground as he made his way to the earl’s side. 

Spike stood in the middle of the tavern, surveying his handiwork.  He’d come to the Pearl for a little merriment and the barkeeper had recognized him immediately, word having apparently gotten round over his last adventure on the shadier side of town.  Assuring the owner he’d take care of any damages, the blond-headed vampire had picked a fight with the meanest looking guy in the place.  Soon, chairs and tables had been upended and fists had been flying. 

Now all lay quiet around him, and he moved to the fairly untouched bar to settle his tab.  A mug was placed before him, which he quickly drank, and waited while the other vampire gained his side.  He’d felt the other’s presence as soon as he’d entered, but had paid him no mind, too intent on working off some of his restless energy and the recent frustration at having the slayer’s memories returned to her. 

“Having fun?” 

Spike quirked his brow in answer, a smile hovering about his lips. 

“Well, I hope you haven’t wasted all of your energy…I fear I’ve some bad news.” 

“What is it?” he demanded. 

“Not here.  Come on.  I’ll tell you on the way.” 

Spike turned and threw a stack of notes on the bar and hurried after the younger vampire.  Soon the two were racing back towards the Marchioness’ townhouse as James told the master vampire what had transpired a short while ago. 

“The men?” 

“Dead.  They sealed their fates the moment they touched her.” 

Beside him, Spike grunted.  He was pleased that retribution had been quick; he just wished he’d been the one to do it.  The slayer was his; it was his responsibility.  But, he couldn’t fault the others.  They’d only been looking out for one of their own.  He was just glad someone had been there. 

The entire situation had him alternating between anger, worry, and confusion.  Anger that she’d dared to leave the house unsupervised.  Worry that she’d nearly been hurt, and by a couple of humans, no less – easy pickings for the slayer. And confusion that she hadn’t fought back, hadn’t easily dispatched the two men that had tried to harm her. 

The two vampires raced on, their figures a mere blur at the speed they obtained in their haste to reach Lady Atherton’s residence – neither being the least bit winded from the headlong run – not slowing until they’d gained the steps outside her home. 

“What did you do with the bodies?” Spike asked as he knocked on the door. 

“Just left them in the bushes.  I’ll go see if Alric and Clayton went back to dispose of their carcasses.” 

“Good.” 

The younger vampire turned and left as the front door opened, revealing the raven-haired vampiress. 

“Lord Thornton, come in.” 

Spike stepped inside, his eyes briefly sweeping over her slight frame clad in only a nightgown and robe. 

“Where-” 

“She’s upstairs…resting.  Got her in the bath and garbed in some fresh bedclothes.  She’s got a few cuts and bruises, but it’s nothing she hasn’t handled before.” 

He looked at her inquisitively, but didn’t comment.  His eyes left her face to gaze upstairs, and the steps that would take him to where the slayer was resting.  Relieved that she was safe and relatively unharmed, he allowed his anger to take hold, his amber eyes flashing menacingly.  She’d… 

“…isn’t that right, Spike?” 

Renee didn’t flinch when his head whipped around from where he’d been burning a hole in the staircase as he’d allowed his anger to consume him, his fierce look pinning her in place. 

“What did you say?” he asked incredulously. 

“I said, as the slayer, she’s seen a lot worse.” 

“She told you?” 

“Yes…Buffy is my friend…she needed someone to talk to.  Someone who would listen to her, maybe understand a little of what she’s feeling.  She’s confused.  And, alone.” 

Renee paused at his growl, grinning inwardly at his possessiveness.  ‘He needs to just tell her how he feels.’  But, she didn’t voice the thought aloud. 

“She cares about you.  She’s just having a hard time reconciling the slayer’s feelings with Elizabeth’s.  She’s not used to seeing things in anything other than black and white.  It’s going to take some time.” 

Spike stared at the vampiress.  That she’d dare speak to him like this.  Yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to say anything…do anything.  And, that shocked him more than her words. 

“She’s upstairs waiting for you.  Take a right at the top of the stairs.  Last door on your right…not that you need my directions.” 

With that parting shot, Renee climbed the steps and sought out her own room. 

Spike remained rooted to the spot, his eyes lingering on the top of the stairs where she’d disappeared out of sight.  His mind mulled over what she’d said.  He couldn’t believe the slayer had told the Marchioness who she was, what she was.  Had told her everything.  Being swept back in time, who and what she was.  Spike didn’t know what to think. 

But, apparently, the vampiress had not cared one way or the other.  Didn’t seem inclined to divulge the information to others.  She was different.  Shoot, several of the vampires he’d met over the past month seemed different.  As if they’d mastered their demon.  Maybe not mastered, so much, as reached an understanding.  And, that confused the blonde-headed master vampire.  To have such restraint, and most were still fledglings.  What had happened throughout history to cause them to regress to such a state?  To kill without thought from the moment they were rebirthed?  Maybe it had something to do with what the half-breed had told them. 

He pushed the thoughts from his mind.  He had a wife to see to, and he felt calm enough, now, to enter the room without beating her for the scare she’d given him. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Buffy was twirling around the gym floor with several other couples at the impromptu Halloween dance Sunnydale High had put together.  Her red skirts flared out behind her as Angel moved them about the room.  Even in her heels, she felt tiny next to him, like a child dancing with her father.  He didn’t feel right, his too large frame overwhelming rather than fitting. 

Her eyes scanned the crowd, ignoring the look of disappointment and anger being sent her way by her dance partner.  She couldn’t find who she was looking for, and reluctantly settled back into Angel’s relaxed embrace. 

When the vibrations began around the invisible marks upon her neck, she smiled in relief.  He’d come!  Her head darted frantically back and forth, trying to get a glimpse of him. Again her search came up empty, but she was comforted by his presence.  The song came to an end and she pulled out of Angel’s arms, ignoring his grasping hands, his protests.  She hurried away, leaving him standing alone in the middle of the floor as a new song began.  Their song.  It was their song playing.  She had to find him…now. 

The thought no sooner forming in her head than she felt leather arms circle her from behind, pulling her body back against his.  She sighed, happy that he’d found her. 

“Dance with me, William.” 

She found herself abruptly turned around, the breath nearly taken from her as she slammed into his chest.  Lifting her head, she noted the ridges on his brow, his yellow gaze harsh as his eyes bore into hers.  He was upset with her, because she’d been dancing with Angel.  Her fingers rose to his face, ghosting over the bumps in a soothing gesture. 

“I love you,” she told him, knowing that it was what he needed to hear to rid himself of any lingering doubt he may harbor. 

His demon melted away, and this time the breath was taken from her as his lips swooped down to claim hers.  Her mouth opened at his urging, his tongue slipping inside to take possession of her mouth, staking his claim for all those present.  Buffy didn’t care.  She was where she wanted to be, locked in the arms of her lover and husband, his hands roaming over her body as his tongue plundered her mouth again and again. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“Dance with me, William.” 

Already hard with the need to reclaim the slayer, her sleep-induced words drove him over the edge. He quickly divested himself of his clothes, uncaring where they landed, his amber gaze never straying from her unmoving form on the bed.  When he was finished, he slipped between the covers and pulled her roughly to him, staring down at her slack features and finding the feel of her silken gown against his bare flesh oddly arousing.  Her hands lifted and slid along the ridges of his brow, and he leaned into her touch, delighting as his erogenous zone was caressed. 

“I love you.” 

His demon features slipped away and he swooped down over her upturned face, claiming her lips.  She responded in her sleep, her arms wrapping around his neck as her mouth parted beneath his questing tongue. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

The dance floor disappeared and she was suddenly on a bed, wrapped in the arms of her lover.  As they lay on their sides, she felt one cool hand slide up her leg beneath her gown and drape it over his thigh.  She strained to get closer to him, wanting to align her body against his, thrilling as her mound came into contact with his burgeoning erection.  Moaning into his mouth as the tip of his cock brushed over her outer folds. 

He tore his mouth from hers and she gulped in much-needed air as he trailed his lips down her jaw and neck, nuzzling her with his blunt teeth.  Her head fell back as he teased the mark upon her flesh, wrapping her arms tighter about his neck to hold him in place. 

“Yes…” she hissed as he bit harder, yet still managing to not break the surface. 

 “William.” 

His name was a plea, an entreaty for more.  She needed him.  Would always need him… 

“Look at me, slayer.” 

The words penetrated her haze and her lashes fluttered open to stare up into the deep blue of William’s.  Spike’s.  Still half asleep and emotions unguarded, her eyes proclaimed the love she felt for him. 

Spike saw however.  The tender regard she held for him blazing within her hazel depths. A twist of her hips and he was buried in her velvety heat.  Passion ignited between them, her pupils dilating as he began a slow rhythm in and out of her body, blanketing the love he’d seen in her eyes before they’d drifted shut.  But, it didn’t bother him.  He could feel it in the way she held him, moved against him…her delicate touch as it roamed over his body telling him how she felt, the words she couldn’t voice just yet. 

It would come.  And for once, he found the patience to wait, rather than force her to admit it.  

He continued his unhurried movements, even as the slayer begged him for more.  Their climax, when it hit, was like an endless wave of pleasure simultaneously washing over their bodies.  As the last shudder passed through their respective bodies, he stilled, hips lying flush against hers as they remained on their sides, his cock gloved within her tight passage. 

Neither moved nor spoke, lying still within the other’s arms. 

As the sun began its steady rise into the sky, they slept.  Words would come later.

tbc...

Chapter 30

Half awake, half sleep, Buffy lay nestled in the cool embrace of her vampire husband.  She didn’t move to pull away from him, not wanting to wake him just yet.  She remembered drifting off, his cock still tightly sheathed within her body.  The feeling of rightness that had settled over her…even if it had been so wrong. 

Only had it been? 

Emotions in an uproar, the slayer laid still, her mind going over everything she’d ever been told.  By Merrick.  By Giles.  And even the Council.  Everything she’d been taught to believe, what she knew in her heart to be true.  Comparing it with what she’d recently been told by Doyle, the Powers’ messenger, and what brief glimpses of life she’d managed to witness thus far in this time period as Elizabeth.  She just couldn’t seem to reconcile everything, every teaching, with what was happening now. Here in the past. 

Throw Spike into the mix, and she was just more confounded than ever.  Here he was, a master vampire looking to bag his third slayer.  Had no doubt managed the feat when she’d been affected by the spell on Halloween.  Now she was married to him, claimed by him.  Accepted into the Aurelius house as one of their own and treated like a revered member because of that claim.  No matter that she was human.  The slayer.  Not that they knew she was the slayer, she remembered that much from Doyle’s announcement.  But still.  Confusion, she could safely say, didn’t even begin to cover the tip of the iceberg. 

She just didn’t know what to think.  To believe.  To feel.  Was she just supposed to discard her teachings, her slayer nature?  Embrace her so-called destiny?  Her reason for being here? 

Buffy shifted slightly, her internal debate manifesting itself into a slight tensing of her body.  Behind her, Spike stirred in his sleep, arms tightening about her frame.  Pulling her close and nuzzling her neck.  With him asleep like he was, she luxuriated in the comfort he unconsciously gave her.  Found no shame in doing so… 

Why did it have to be shameful?   

“What are you so scared of?  It’s ok to love him.  Elizabeth did.  Loved him with an intensity rarely seen among the ton.  Or vampires, for that matter.  And, though you have your memories back, you’re still her.  A woman deeply in love with her husband.”  

What was she so scared of?  She’d as much as been told that she was here for a reason.  With Spike.  Claimed by him, for all vampires to know and heed.  Married to him, so that humans alike could do the same.  What more did she want?  Need? 

His love. 

The thought came unbidden just then.  Two tiny words. Something that would have her throwing caution to the wind and embracing this life.  Her destiny.  She knew he was capable of it.  Renee was proof of that.  This past week, she could almost see evidence of it.  The way he touched her.  Late at night after she’d spent hours waiting up for him.  The fierce possessiveness that thrilled her while it scared her.  The way he could make her feel at just a look, a slight touch of his hand upon her bare skin, or when he buried his fangs so deep inside her throat she thought she’d surely die from the pleasure. 

Was that what held her back?  A desire to see him as lost as she was?  As deeply in love with her as she suspected, even now, she was with him? 

She mulled over that thought for a moment.  Could she allow herself to love him if he were to feel the same way?  Her mind said no. That he was evil...would always be evil.  But her heart?  Well, it was another matter.  It told her she was too late.  For she already did.   

Without the strictures of the present she’d been allowed to just be herself.  To just be a girl.  A normal girl, albeit, in a different time, and not so much with the normal since she’d been claimed by a vampire.  But, she’d had none of the moral code of the slayer holding her back.  She’d loved because she’d wanted to, as if some part of her, buried deep within her psyche had told her that she and Spike were meant to be.  And, she’d run with that knowledge, allowed her feelings to grow until they’d finally culminated into everything she’d secretly wanted.  To be loved.  To belong.  

Thrust into the past, she didn’t have to see the condemnation and revulsion on the faces of her watcher, her friends, or Angel, at the mere thought of her loving the blond-headed vampire.  Instead, she was surrounded by people, human and vampire alike, that encouraged the match.  True, the human upper crust had no idea that they walked amidst the undead.  A situation she’d still to wrap her head around.  But, there’d been no pointed looks behind whispered hands.   

Stranger still was the fact that last night, she’d been rescued by her vampire family, as if it were a given that they’d help.  Had leapt to her defense when she’d been too shocked to fight back, to thrust her assailants off of her like so much rubbish.  It was just one more thing that weighed on her mind.  How they’d exhibited more concern for her welfare than their human counterparts that had wanted to do nothing more than violate her body. 

Buffy turned over, careful not to disturb Spike as he slept.  Her eyes roamed over his features noting the scar in his eyebrow; the long, dark lashes; high cheekbones that appeared etched from marble; soft, full lips turned down slightly as he shifted slightly to resettle himself around her body.  Her fingers longed to follow the same path, yet she didn’t want to wake him. Didn’t want to disrupt the peaceful moment.  To see him wake with fury in his eyes because she’d left the house without telling him and had almost gotten hurt. 

Instead she burrowed closer, a happy sigh escaping her lips and brushing over his bare chest when his arms tightened about her, instinctively giving her the reassurance she needed.  Snuggled in his arms as she was, she came to a decision.  She wasn’t going to fight this.  Whatever it was.  Oh, she wouldn’t come right out and declare her undying love, wanting to guard her heart against possible heartbreak.  But, she wasn’t going to turn him away, deny him any more.  The powers wanted them together, and that seemed like enough of a stamp of approval for her.  Pleased with her decision, and feeling like a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders, she smiled into his skin and allowed herself to be lulled back to sleep by the soft vibrations emanating from his chest. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Buffy woke a few hours later as a maid entered her room.  Feeling oddly refreshed after her ordeal last night and subsequent internal debate, she slipped from Spike’s arms, pulling the discarded robe around her nude body.  She was surprised to see the girl with a complete set of her own clothes in her arms. 

“M’lady bade me bring these up to you,” the girl told her. 

“Is Renee…Lady Atherton up?” 

“Yes.  She’s in the dining hall.  If you’d like, I can help you dress so that you might join her.” 

Buffy’s eyes widened fractionally at that.  She was going to have to get used to parading around in the buff around the servants if she wanted to fit in.  Nodding her assent, she made quick work of the chamber pot hidden behind the screen before allowing herself to be dressed by the maid.  It was a good thing she had the assistance, too, because she didn’t think there was any way that she would have known what went where. 

Twenty minutes later, her dark hair artfully arranged and garbed in a becoming light green morning dress, Buffy slipped from the room as Spike continued to sleep, hurrying down the steps to see her friend.  The warning tingling sensation she felt on the back of her neck was more comforting than not, and if she concentrated hard enough, she was able to tell apart the slightly different signature that separated Renee’s from Spike’s.  Interesting. 

Pausing in the doorway, she waited for the vampiress to lift her head and acknowledge her presence.  Her feet hadn’t made a sound upon the floor, but she knew that Renee had to sense her.  Then she remembered.  Doyle had said that no one would be able to tell who – what – she was.  Her indrawn breath alerted the Marchioness that she wasn’t alone, and the vampiress lifted her gaze from the book she was reading to greet her guest. 

“Good morning, Buffy.  Did you sleep well?” 

Instantly, the slayer’s face flamed in embarrassment.  She sure had.  Slept well, in addition to other things, that is. 

“Hmmmm, yes. I see that you did.”   

She smiled then, a knowing smirk similar to Spike’s, and Buffy’s face grew brighter.  “I want to thank you…” she told Renee, gesturing to her attire. “…for the clothes.” 

“No problem, dear.  Couldn’t have you running home in your unmentionables, now could we?” 

“Erm, no.  So not of the good.”  The slayer laughed at the vampiress’ confused expression.  Clarifying, “No, I rather suspect not.” 

“Ahhhh…yes.  I forgot there for a moment.  Do they really speak like that in the future?” 

“Ummm…no?  I think I have my own special language.  Books never being such a strong suit.  TV’s, CD’s…that was more my style…and, I probably shouldn’t be telling you this, now that I think about it.” 

“It’s alright.  It will be our secret.  Now, come.  Sit.  What would you like for breakfast?  Or, should I say lunch?” 

“Normally, I’d say, ‘whatever you’re having’, but I’m going to go with a simple eggs, bacon, and toast,” Buffy joked. 

Renee glanced down at the cup and saucer in front of her and laughed.  “I hear it’s an acquired taste.” 

The two women laughed, neither shocked at the ease with which they’d settled into their newfound knowledge.  Renee was right.  They’d been friends before, and with Buffy’s resolve to acclimate herself to her new setting, she saw no reason that that should change.  Besides, it didn’t look like the vampiress was going to let her do otherwise.  Moments later, her food appeared, and she surprised herself by eating everything on her plate and asking for seconds.  Her appetite had come back in full force, now that the stress and anxiety over her situation had abated. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

They settled in the library after they finished eating, Buffy wandering around the perimeter of the room, scanning the books, while Renee sat on one of the chaise lounges and returned to reading.  The sheer volume of books crammed into the shelves that lined the four walls of the room surprised her.  Did everyone in the ton have a library this impressive? 

“Something specific you’re looking for, Elizabeth…I mean, Buffy?” Renee called out. 

“Honestly?  No… Although, this…” she gestured to herself, “…isn’t really me.  I don’t know if I can fit in here.  I’m sure to misstep.  Say something, do something, that others might construe…” 

“As the eccentric whim of one of the ton.  An ‘Original,’” the vampiress finished for her.  She sighed then.  A gesture so reminiscent of Spike that Buffy couldn’t help but smile.  “You just don’t understand how sought after you are among the ton.  And, since many of your friends are members of elite society, the crème de la crème, so to speak, there’s nothing really that you won’t be able to get away with. Say even running about at night clad in nothing more than a nightgown?  Although, you might not want to make a habit of that.” 

Buffy moved away from the bookcase and sat down beside the vampiress. 

“That’s just the thing, Renee.  In my time…I…well, I had a group of friends that did all my research for me.  I couldn’t be bothered because I was the slayer.  My job was to slay things, not read about them.  But, this thing that’s coming…whatever it is.  I don’t have that.  I need to be prepared, both physically and mentally.” 

She lifted her head, eyes earnestly seeking those of her friends.  “Will you help me?” 

“I’m not sure what exactly I could teach you,” Renee replied honestly. 

“Languages, what books to read…I don’t know.  I just feel so helpless right now.  Ill prepared for what’s coming.  True, I’ve got time.  Some twenty plus years in fact.  That should be enough time to give me a crash course, right?  Oh, and…I want to learn about you.  Vampires, that is. Your laws and customs. Anything that might help me fit in better. Say you’ll teach me…please.” 

“I’ll do what I can, you know that.  Lord Thornton will—” 

“I’ll get his permission,” Buffy interjected quickly. 

“Alright.  If he says it’s ok.” 

“Thank you!” Buffy gushed, throwing her arms about the vampiress.  “Thank you so much!” 

Renee hugged the girl back, surprised at the bond they’d formed.  The ease with which they’d seemed to get past their different backgrounds and revert to the friends they’d been beforehand.  

They separated, slipping into polite conversation as a servant entered with news that the Duchess of Sevring had arrived and was waiting in the drawing room.  Buffy and Renee rose to greet her guest, the three women settling around the room, discussing tonight’s plans to attend the theater.  They were soon joined by Celeste Devlin and Francesca Woodthorpe, and talk turned to Buffy’s recent marriage and subsequent honeymoon, the four other women wanting all the gossip about what she’d done while she’d been away. 

There was an awkward moment when she didn’t respond when someone asked her a question.  The name Elizabeth not jarring her from her silent musings.  But a hand on her wrist to gain her attention, and a request for her friends to please call her Buffy quickly soothed things over.  The slayer was just thankful that Renee was seated beside her. 

About an hour later, the three women departed, citing their need to get home and prepare for the night’s festivities.  Buffy and Renee saw them out with promises to meet up again later this evening.  They’d returned to the library, seating themselves on opposite chairs when the slayer felt the first pricklings at the scar on her neck.  Nothing urgent, more of a nudge really.  She ignored it for a moment, not quite ready to depart her friend’s company.  Besides, how exactly did you tell your friend that your husband was calling you?  Especially when they’d know what exactly he was calling you for.  The second tug was a little more forceful that the first, causing her to stand up abruptly and babble to her friend. 

“Renee…would you mind…getting clothes…for tonight.  Spike…uh, William. Think…I’m…uh…”  Buffy pointed upstairs. 

“Would you prefer to just get ready here?  I’ll have a maid sent round to fetch something for both William and yourself.” 

“Yes…yes…that would be fine.  Um…you mind?” 

“Go,” the vampiress laughed heartily.  “Remember what I said.” 

Buffy looked at her friend questioningly. 

“It’s alright to love him…” 

The slayer nodded, then was gone.

Chapter 31

Buffy raced up the steps, lifting her skirts to make it easier for her to move.  She needed to reach her borrowed room before she felt the next buzzing along her neck, not wanting to make him madder than he probably was right now. 

Bursting into the room, she quickly shut and locked the door, leaning against the hard wood for a moment to catch her breath.  Not that she was winded per se, but the confining constraints around her waist did much to impede her ability to indulge in the proper breathing to necessitate the deeper breathing required from her headlong flight up the stairs.  Her eyes lifted and locked with Spike’s, trying desperately to gauge his mood. 

Leaning against the headboard, arms folded across his bare chest, a fierce scowl settled firmly in place – not in the best of moods, undoubtedly.  But he wasn’t yelling, which was promising.  And, before he could, she crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the bed near his hip. 

“Can you help me with my gown,” she asked quietly. 

If she had been looking towards him, she would have seen the vampire’s confused expression.  The slight trembling of his fingers as they lifted silently to the stays.  Instead, she just grew nervous as his fingers practically tore her gown apart in his haste. 

When the garment barely clung to her shoulders, she pulled away, rising to her feet and crossing to the screen to lay the dress over the top.  Clad in only her numerous undergarments – which were still more than she’d wear on a normal summer day back in Sunnydale – she faced him again.  His expression was unreadable and she wasn’t quite sure what to think, or to do. 

‘You can do this, Buffy,’ she mentally told herself.  ‘Women have been seducing their husbands for centuries.’ 

Her nervous gestures came off as refreshing innocence to the vampire ensconced on the bed.  His eyes followed her hands as she began removing layer upon layer of undergarments until she stood before him nude.  Nearly groaned in agony when she bent over and retrieved them from the floor, her bare ass pointed enticingly in the air.  Spike forced himself not to move, not wanting to spoil the moment. 

It was the first time the slayer had willingly initiated any type of intimate contact, and he found himself curious as to what she’d do.  How far she’d go.  And, damned if he’d let his rock-hard cock dictate his actions. 

Buffy couldn’t put off looking at him any longer.  Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she turned around and confronted Spike.  Except for a slight quirk in his scarred brow, he didn’t move.  Didn’t speak. 

It somehow made it easier for her to close the distance between them.  And if her hips happened to sway a little more than normal, more power to her… 

She crawled up on the end of the bed, kneeling between his feet.  Her eyes roamed over the smooth planes of his chest and abs, the defined muscles in his arms, that were exposed to her gaze.  Her perusal caused his cock to twitch beneath the sheet, and she found that she wanted to see him.  All of him.  Hands gripped the sheet covering his waist and lower limbs, and she pulled it inch by agonizing inch down his pale, unmoving form. 

Her eyes stared transfixed at the hard cock lying flush against his stomach.  She’d touched it before.  Tasted it.  Found herself wanting to do it again.  Drive him wild like the last time.  She crawled up his body, resettling herself closer to his crotch.  His cock twitched again, as if in anticipation of her touch.  As if it knew her intent, and approved. 

One hand reached out, wrapping around his cool length, fisting it from base to tip and back again in one smooth glide. 

His hips arched off the bed and into her hand, a hoarse “slayer” hissed from his mouth.  Spike’s hands fisted in the sheets so that he wouldn’t flip her over and pound her into the mattress as she continued her sweet torment to his shaft.  His eyes closed tight as she squeezed him, her thumb snagged the drops of precum that stole from the slit, smearing it about the head on her upstroke.  Heaven.  Her touch felt like heaven.  Then her mouth… 

God. 

He had but a moment to feel the warmth of her breath before her mouth wrapped around his shaft, searing his flesh with her heat. 

This time it was her name that was shouted. Part curse, part reverence.  He couldn’t prevent his hands from slipping into her hair, massaging her scalp as he guided her movements.  He let her set the pace, not wanting to scare her off.  This was her show. Had been since the moment she’d asked him to help her with her gown. 

But, if she didn’t stop soon, the slayer was going to get more than she bargained for this time around… 

“Slayer…” he called out, trying to get her attention.  She just continued with her delicious torture, employing her tongue along the underside of his shaft.  Holy fuck!  When did she learn how to do that?  “Buffy…please…wanna be inside you when I come.”  His voice sounded whiney, but he didn’t care.  He needed… 

Oh fuck! 

His little goddess of a wife was deepthroating him. Relaxing her throat muscles and taking him all in. He let her take him to the hilt twice before ripping her mouth from his cock, dragging her body up his as his body heaved with exertion to keep from spilling his seed in her mouth.  His eyes bore into hers, his passion-filled gaze leaving no doubt as to what he wanted to do with her. 

~*~ 

Buffy nearly purred in delight when she felt Spike’s hands slip into her hair and begin massaging her scalp, his surprisingly gently touch leading her movements, not forcing them.  Any second thoughts she had about pleasuring him this way, fell by the wayside, allowing her to appreciate the taste and feel of his cock in her mouth. 

She built up a steady rhythm, her tongue flicking over the veins along the underside of his shaft, silently thrilling as she felt his control slipping.  It gave her a sense of power that she did that to him.  Drove him to the brink.  Experimenting a little, she relaxed the muscles in her throat and tried to take him all in, pleased when found she could.   

A moment later her mouth was ripped from his cock, and she was forcefully dragged up his body. 

Had she done something wrong?  She’d thought he was enjoying himself.  Her eyes filled with tears…worried.  She lifted her eyes, uncertain, towards his, and nearly cowered at the lust-filled gaze she encountered.  A smile transformed her features.  She’d done it.  Made him lose control.  That’s why he’d pulled her away.  Not because of any misstep on her part. 

She leaned down, their lips almost brushing against one another, before she veered off and moved towards his ear.  Her tongue darted out, licking a wet path along the shell then teasing the orifice.  Warm breath became a sharp contrast to the cooling moisture, and she felt him tense beneath her, hands gripping her waist hard enough to bruise.  Her mouth closed around his lower lobe, teeth nibbling softly at the pliant flesh. 

“Playin’ with fire, pet,” he growled close to her ear. 

Oh, god, she hoped so! 

Buffy moved away from his ear, trailing kisses and the occasional nibble along his neck, her body sliding down his as she continued her path.  When her moist opening brushed against his cock, she mewled in delight.  She couldn’t wait any longer to feel him inside her.  As her tongue flicked along the hollow above his collarbone, she reached between them and grasped his cock, positioning it at her opening and quickly sheathing him within her body.  Joint cries of pleasure permeated the room as he was fully seated within her slick channel. 

Spike pushed away from the pillows, sitting up straight and pulling the slayer’s body flush against his.  Twin peaks ground into his chest as he lowered his head to hers, a groan escaped his mouth to be caught by hers, and their parted lips fused to the others.  He lifted one hand to the back of her neck, holding her in place as his tongue plundered her mouth. 

As much as she enjoyed being kissed by Spike, and she had to admit, he was way better than Angel ever thought of being, she needed to move.  Using her knees as leverage, she lifted her hips, not stopping until just the tip remained inside her.  The position nearly disrupted their kiss, but before she could lower herself back down on his length, Spike shifted his hands to her shoulders and hauled her back onto his cock. 

Over and over it went.  Buffy lifting off his shaft.  Spike slamming her home.  When they could stand it no more, when they needed to increase their pace and reach their pinnacle, Spike flipped their bodies and rammed his cock into her body.  Buffy lifted her legs, wrapping them around his waist as she strained against him.  The bed creaked from his violent thrusts.  Neither cared.  Both were caught up in each other. 

Their lovemaking was different than before.  As if the wall separating them this past week had been crumbled.  They were like Elizabeth and William, only they weren’t.  The emotions the two shared were present, only this time it was the slayer and Spike feeling them.  Expressing them.  Bodies saying what words could not.  At least not yet, anyway. 

“Spike…I need…” Buffy whimpered.  Her hands struggled to pull him closer, urging him to give her body that final release. 

“Who do you belong to?” he rasped in her ear, blunt teeth nibbling along her neck causing goose bumps to pepper her flesh. 

“I’m yours, Spike.  Only yours…” she answered without hesitation. 

“Mine!” he growled possessively as he allowed his features to shift, burying his fangs in her neck and sending the slayer spiraling into orgasm.   

“William!” she gasped as she came, arms and legs tightening reflexively around his body.  His eyes nearly crossed as he felt her inner walls milk his shaft, and he thrust maybe a handful of times more before he spilled his seed within her womb. 

When the last shudder left his body, Spike quickly released her neck and licked the fresh marks closed before collapsing on top of the slayer.  Not wanting to burden her too long with his weight, he rolled to his back, pulling her on top of him, his cock still buried inside her juicy quim.  His hands roamed over her slick back, soothing her while her breathing and heart rate returned to normal.   

~*~*~*~*~ 

“’m sorry about last night,” she whispered some time later.  Probably not the wisest thing to say when she felt him stiffen beneath her.  But, better to get it out in the open.  A fresh start for them.  Before he had a chance to blast her for her foolishness she blurted out, “I just…I needed to talk to someone…and…and Renee…only…I couldn’t remember where she lived.” 

“Shhh…’s alright, luv,” he murmured.  He was still angry.  Rightly so.  Wanted to paddle her backside so that she couldn’t sit down for a week.  But he wouldn’t.  Part of the reason why he was so angry was because he’d been scared.  Scared that she’d been hurt.  Or worse.  When James had told him what had happened, his first instinct had been to kill the bastards that had dared touch his woman.  His demon had howled in rage at being denied his vengeance…but that had quickly subsided, leaving in its wake a fierce need to see the slayer, reassure himself that she was alright.   

His unstable emotions were part of the reason that he wasn’t going to do anything.  On some level he knew his anger was irrational.  His growing feelings for the slayer making him subject to rash judgments, and even more reckless actions.  Also, things had changed just now between them.  She’d placed herself in his hands, freely acknowledging his claim over her.  And, this moment was too fragile to ruin it by exacting penance for her misdeeds.

tbc...

Chapter 32

Spike stared at the slayer’s reflection as she sat before the vanity while having her hair artfully arranged by one of the Marchioness’ servants.  She looked tired – most likely due to the fact that she’d yet to adjust to the evening social life of the ton.  Instead of sleeping the morning away to recover from the preceding night’s festivities like most of the upper crust, she was up with the sun – her occasional naps throughout the day doing nothing to renew her strength. 

With the recent shift in their relationship, and he could only assume she’d settled in and accepted the situation after their activities the past few hours, he’d have to start keeping her in bed with him while he slept.  He didn’t like seeing her worn out.  Made him feel like he wasn’t taking care of her properly.  And, if that thought spoke too much about his softening emotions towards his wife, Spike just attributed it to the fact that she was his, and it was his responsibility to look after her welfare.  Anything besides… 

No, he wasn’t ready to go there yet.

A self-preserving need to escape the delectable slayer had him throwing over his shoulder, “I’ll let you finish up here, pet,” before he beat a hasty retreat from the room. 

Downstairs in Renee’s study, he helped himself to a drink from her bar, pouring several fingers full of the amber liquid into a glass from one of the bottles and throwing back the contents in one long swallow.  When that did nothing to alleviate the directions of his thoughts, he poured another…and then another. 

He’d just poured a fourth when he was startled by the dark-haired vampiress. 

“We’re only going to the theatre, mind.  No need to get sloshed before we depart.  I hear this one’s quite good, actually,” Renee gently chided the blond-headed master vampire as she came into the room. 

Spike spun around, so deep in though he’d not heard the other approach.  Not responding to the vampiress’ remark, he instead lifted his tumbler, saluting the Marchioness before sipping at the contents this time. 

“Is Buffy about ready?” Renee asked.  “We’re dining with the Earl of Valasay and his wife before attending the theatre.  Afterwards, I’ll drop you round your residence…or Whitt’s.”  A delicate arc to her slim brow indicated where she thought he should go, but otherwise, her outward appearance showed no hint of her subtle nudging.   

“She was getting her hair coiffed and will be down directly.  Valasay…they’re human, right?” 

“Yes.  You were probably introduced at Buffy’s come-out ball,” Renee replied.  “I’m sure you’ll recall who they are once you’ve a face to put with the name.” 

Spike felt the slayer draw near and glanced away from the vampiress towards the door.  A moment later it opened and he was quite proud that he managed to prevent his jaw from dropping open in astonishment.  When he’d left her, she’d only been wearing her undergarments, saving her gown for later, once her hair was complete.  It was a good thing too, because right now he wanted nothing more than to throw her over his shoulder all haul her back upstairs.  He closed his eyes and mentally counted to ten to calm his raging lust…when that didn’t work, he went to twenty. 

It didn’t help.  Even with his eyes closed he could still see her.  Her blood red dress as it practically molded to her slight frame, its color an exact match for the ring and necklace he’d given her. 

Renee glanced over at the master vampire and tried not to roll her eyes.  Men!  Seeing Buffy fidgeting uncomfortably in the doorway at her husband’s lack of greeting, she took matters into her own hands. 

“Buffy!  Aren’t you a vision!” she greeted her friend, leaving William behind and crossing the room to where she stood. 

“Are you sure?”  She glanced down at her dress.  “Spi-William doesn’t seem to like it…”  Her voice trailed off, somewhat hurt at Spike’s lack of greeting.  Here she’d thought that they’d had a slight shift in their relationship.  ‘Just goes to show you what you know,’ she mentally chided herself. 

“Nonsense,” Renee told her. She leaned down, whispering in her friend’s ear, although she knew the other vampire would be able to hear every word she said, “Poor man is struggling with his desire to see you both back in bed, is all.” 

Her sudden blush matched her gown at the vampiress’ blunt words, but she smiled nonetheless because her husband had liked her outfit.  While planning her trousseau, she’d come across the fabric, had taken one look at it, and knew she’d had to have it.  Mrs. Rothworth and Renee had exclaimed over the color, while a couple of the human ladies had blanched at the rich, vibrant red.  She’d not been persuaded; however, even as Elizabeth.  Had bought it solely with her husband in mind, something that would complement the jewelry he’d gifted her with. And she’d been eagerly waiting the day she’d married him so that she could put away all the soft pastels she’d worn.  Marriage allowing her a broader selection of color choices in her garments. 

She had Renee to thank for retrieving the dress for her.  It wasn’t something that she would have consciously worn tonight, but in hindsight, it was the perfect ensemble.  She’d wanted to please her husband when picking the fabric. By wearing it now, it proved – to herself at least – that she was ready to make a go of her situation. 

When Spike hadn’t said anything regarding her appearance, she’d become nervous and embarrassed that perhaps she’d read too much into what had transpired earlier.  Her friend’s reassuring words had set her conflicted emotions to right.  A conspiratorial smile came to her lips then, knowledge known the world over by women.  The power they had over their counterparts by garbing themselves with a stunning outfit.  Oh, yeah… 

She’d reduced the Big Bad to a quivering mass of need. 

It did things to her. 

Naughty things. 

“Buffy…” Renee begged her friend.  “Dinner…let’s go.  Lord and Lady Woodthorpe are expecting us.” 

“All three of us,” she added, in case the other two – who had started to feast on the other with their eyes – were left in any doubt that they were coming with her.  Looping her arm through her friend’s, she all but pulled her from the room, leaving the blond-headed vampire to follow. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Surprised at the slayer’s reticence at entering the Earl of Valasay’s home, he was just about to ask her what was wrong when he noticed the other woman gush over his wife’s gown.  Her fingers had been worrying the ring on her finger, turning it round and round, until Lady Woodthorpe had greeted her so warmly.  She’d relaxed then, smiling once more as the three of them were ushered inside the sitting room to wait for dinner to be served. 

It had only been later, when the Marchioness had gotten a moment alone with him, that he’d learned the truth about the dress.  To say he was ready to forgo dinner and the theatre had been an understatement.  That she’d had something created just to please him, and had worn it now as their relationship had begun a fresh start… 

No one had ever done that for him before.  Dressed purely for his pleasure.  It made him feel warm.  Cared for.  Loved. 

And the ice that was encasing his unbeating heart thawed just a tad bit more. 

After the numerous-course dinner – which Spike would have been glad to see finished about halfway through, even if the food was delicious; no blooming onion thing, but still rather tasty – the two men had retired to the earl’s study, while the women had wandered off to the sitting room.  They’d shared a drink and a smoke, discussed business for a few before they’d both pulled a face at having to be dragged off to some play when they could be at their club. 

“The things we do for the women we love,” the earl commented, clapping Spike on the back, as he led him to rejoin the ladies. 

Love?   No, not love?  Not yet. 

‘Did I just say ‘yet’?  Like it was some forgone conclusion?’ 

He stepped into the sitting room, his eyes immediately drawn to those of the slayer.  He took note of her softening expression as her eyes came to rest on him. 

‘No…won’t love her.  Can’t.  Can’t be love’s bitch again.  I can’t.’ 

Renee watched the master vampire and was about ready to give him a swift kick in the pants.  If any two people were meant to be together, it was they.  Stubborn.  They were both stubborn; although, not so much with the slayer now.  She was more guarded, as if afraid of William’s rejection.  But, she was at least open to the possibility.  It was the vampire she was going to have to work on.  Make him see that loving someone didn’t lessen his status. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Within the security of his box seat, Spike stifled the sigh that nearly came to his lips.  Beside him, the slayer was once more sound asleep, her head resting softly upon his shoulder.  The warmth of her skin scorched the length of his arm where she leaned against him.  The swell of her breast as it brushed against him with every breath she took, causing his earlier lust to return.  Not that it had really abated…not in the least.  Every move she’d made since hearing the Marchioness’ story – the fingering of her ring, which he’d noticed she did when nervous, the gentle brush of her fingers across his mark, her smile and easy camaraderie with the Marchioness – just increased his desire to see her home.  From the subtle looks she shot his way when she thought he hadn’t been looking, she wanted the same thing. 

To be home.  In bed.  Mouth and hands roaming over each other’s bodies. 

Spike twitched in his seat to relieve the pressure against his rock hard cock.  He had to concentrate on something else.  Anything that would take his mind off the sleeping slayer resting so trustingly against his side.  He’d just about succeeded, concentrating on the scene playing before him on stage, when he felt her shift, her body snuggling deeper into his side as she attempted to get comfortable. 

‘Bloody hell!’ 

Behind him, he heard the Marchioness stifle a laugh.  And, he swore he’d have words with her for laughing at his plight.  The utter cheek!  His only comfort…knowing that she wasn’t immune to what was going on in the row in front of her.   

But still… 

Trying to get the slayer to stop moving, he slipped his arm around the back of her, hauling her closer against him.  She settled once again, drifting further into sleep as her body seemed to sense his secure embrace. 

Thankful that she’d finally gotten still, Spike stared at the play and allowed his mind to wander. To the intermission earlier, and the slayer’s meeting with his “father.”  The Marquee had naturally gushed over his daughter-in-law, insisting his son’s wife call him “dad” since she’d recently lost her own.  Her eyes had welled up with tears at the comment, something for which he’d have to question her about later.  He didn’t like to see her cry.  His demon rebelled at the thought that someone had hurt what was his, confused because she seemed to be smiling through her tears while she nodded and blubbered out her affirmative to his father’s request.   

Her heartfelt response had triggered a spontaneous invitation from the Marquess for the two of them to join him for dinner tomorrow night.  His wife had accepted immediately before turning shamefaced to him at her slip.  Spike had just smiled and nodded his assent, unexpectedly happy at seeing her own hesitant smile in answer. 

Looking around at the masses that were clamoring for both of their attention during the short intermission, the Marquess had excused himself, his parting shot about seeing them on the morrow.  They’d mingled until curtain call was announced then returned to their box to watch the second half of the show. 

Now, as the last note was sung and the sound of clapping filled the theatre, Spike heaved a huge sigh of relief that his torture had come to an end. Nudging the slayer awake, he gained his feet.   

Finally! 

Now they could go home, and he could do what he’d wanted to do from the moment she’d appeared before him wearing that gown.

Chapter 33

As soon as the gentle swaying of the coach began as it got into motion, Buffy started to nod off again.  She really needed to work on getting her sleep patterns situated.  This staying up half the night, only to wake at dawn, was starting to get to her.  God forbid one day she started snoring at some ball, or other equally embarrassing situation.  Leaning against Spike’s arm, she sighed dreamily and gave in to her body’s demands.  Her eyes closing as sleep overcame her. 

Spike glanced down at the slayer and snorted.  Picking her up, he settled her body in his lap, allowing her head to rest against his shoulder.  Couldn’t allow her to fall from her perch now, could he? 

Shortly thereafter, the carriage pulled to a stop in front of – what he assumed to be – his residence.  He shook the slayer awake, setting her beside him so he could step down from the conveyance and assist her.  Spike had to admit she looked rather cute half asleep as she was, almost tumbling face first out the door if he hadn’t been there to catch her. 

The Marchioness’ laughter at his wife’s antics caused his own lips to turn up in amusement, and he bade the vampiress good night, steering the slayer towards the front door. 

Once inside, Spike swung his wife up in his arms, figuring it would be the quickest and easiest way to get her up to his room.  The door seemed to open just as he reached it, his manservant awake and ready to assist him with preparing for bed.  The valet, upon seeing his lord and lady together, knew instinctively that he would not be needed, and instead, just pulled the door to behind him.  Walking down the hallway, he poked his head in his mistress’ room and sent her maid off to bed as well. 

Back inside the master bedroom, Spike laid the slayer upon the bed.  His eyes feasted on her form, the red dress that appeared to mold to her skin.  He’d spent the entire night imagining this moment.  How he’d rip the gown from her body and slam himself inside her as his lust consumed him, driving them both higher and higher until their bodies shook with their release. 

Seeing her now; however, he wanted to slowly peel the garment off of her, piece by delectable piece, like an unexpected gift that he wanted to savor opening.  His gaze finally lifted to her face, not surprised to find her wide-awake and watching him.  As Spike’s eyes had roamed over her body, he’d heard her indrawn gasp, her increased heart rate, that signaled her growing arousal.  But neither of those competed with the delicious scent that emanated from her core. 

He moved to the foot of the bed and lifted one boot, his hand going to the laces and working them free so that he could slide it free.  After the first one was finished, he started on the other, his slow, torturous movements driving them both wild with need.  The second boot dropped to the floor and his cool hands slid beneath her skirts to remove the stockings from both of her legs.  The first touch of his hands upon her skin and her eyes fell shut. Again he took his time, his fingers stopping often to knead the muscles, relaxing and stimulating at the same instance. 

Buffy bit her lip to keep from crying out, his pleasurable torment driving her near insane.  Her need for him had grown to epic proportions, and she was ready for him to just rip his clothes off – hers too – and pound her into the mattress.  Instead, he was slowly driving her out of her mind.  She groaned when his hands fell away from her legs, distressed at being denied his touch.  Her eyes opened, and she stared greedily as he moved to one of the chairs and began pulling off his eveningwear; his nude body was something she’d never tire from seeing. 

When he was wearing nothing but his breeches, he returned to her side, assisting her to her feet so he could work on the dress’s buttons.  Buffy allowed herself to be turned around, his position at her at her back causing her to feel somewhat vulnerable. 

Spike started with her hair, hunting down each and every pin that held it secure atop her head.  It was a wonder she didn’t have a headache from the sheer volume that fell to the floor.  Finally, the last pin slipped from between his fingertips, and he watched entranced as her hair floated down her back and covered his hands.  His head lowered, and he inhaled deeply, the shiny tresses giving off a fragrance he’d come to associate with the slayer.  

It made him want to shove the slayer face first into the bed and… 

He felt her stiffen in front of him as if poised for his assault, and he once more reined in his lust and concentrated on undoing the buttons of her gown.  Sliding her hair over the front of her shoulder, he went to work at the tiny fastenings, silently grumbling about the size and quantity.  Gave him thoughts about ripping the bloody thing off of her.  And he would have, if he’d not wanted to see her in this particular gown again and again. When the last button came undone, Spike slipped his hands inside the seam and cupped her shoulders. Running them down her bare arms, he caused the material to follow until it fell away from her body to pool at her feet. 

Clad now in just her undergarments, he could see the rise and fall of her chest, indicative of her increasing desire.  His hand slipped into hers briefly, just long enough to help her step over the pile of material, then let go.  Crouching beside her, he quickly grabbed the discarded dress and threw it over the chair he’d tossed his own clothes upon. 

He turned back around, pleased to see that she hadn’t moved – her back still to him.  His eyes skimmed the layers of material he’d yet to go through so that he could feel her bare skin against his, and knew that this round would go quicker – and most likely throw the slayer off.  As he reached her, he placed his hands beneath the corset and pulled.  The garment, unused to the strength of a vampire, simply ripped down the middle, the sound mingling with her shocked gasp.  Impatient now to see her, his claws tore away the remaining items covering her body, his haste causing him to nick her flesh – a slight hiss of pain escaping the slayer’s mouth. 

Spike smelled the blood immediately and once again had to rein in his demon to keep from ravishing her.  The vampire had other plans.  He wanted the slayer’s total surrender, and while he knew he’d get it regardless of what method he employed, he was also conscious of their desire for a soft wooing.  A tender assault.  It was the reason he’d left his pants on, although that would soon change. 

When the last scrap of cloth fell away, leaving her body completely exposed to his perusal, Spike made quick work of drawing back the covers before scooping the slayer up in his arms and depositing her on the cool sheets.  He stepped out of his breeches and joined her on the bed, lying on his side and propped on his elbow, so that he could look at her.  So close, his erection brushed against her hip, his hand in easy access to her pleasure centers. 

But he’d get to those later.  For now… 

His hand cupped her jaw, turning her face towards him, and he lowered his head to claim her lips, his full mouth brushing back and forth across hers.  Little nibbles that made her pant all the harder and open her mouth, as if begging for his invasion. 

“So beautiful,” he murmured against her lips.  “All mine.” 

Spike could feel her shift beside him, desperate to increase the contact. 

“Shhhh…just feel…” 

His thumb brushed back and forth along her jaw as he continued to press light kisses to her lips.  She mewled in protest and he gave her what she wanted, his tongue sliding into her mouth.  Over and over it went, the slow in and out movement a precursor of what was to come when he finally sheathed himself within her body.  For now, he made love to her mouth, as if he had no care in the world except to kiss her.  And kiss her, he did.  Each soft brush of his tongue against her causing the slayer to press closer to his, her body all but laying on her side, his cock flush against her stomach. 

Just when she thought she could take it no more, he tore his mouth away from hers, trailing his lips along her jaw.  His target: her ear. 

“Mmmm…taste so good, pet.” 

“Spiiiiike,” she hissed when his lips clamped down on her lobe.  He was slowly driving her insane.  Her body, aching with need…and he just seemed to be adding more fuel to the flames. 

And he’d not even touched her with his hands yet.  Not really.  Not in the places she wanted to be touched. 

Her breasts and quim were practically craving his sinful touch, but as yet, they were left wanting.  Aching.  She strained against him, desperate to feel him, and nearly wept with frustration when his hand left her neck and gripped her hip, stilling her movements.  Her mouth turned downward at being denied, but then his thumb started moving.  Lazy circles drawn upon her hip.  Just enough stimulation to take her mind off the fact that he’d yet to venture further. 

But the promise was there. 

Spike had every intention of bathing her other ear with the same attention as the first, but his head lowered and his gaze locked on a pert nipple.  The pointed stub just begging for his lips, his tongue…or his hand.  He slid down her body and captured it between his teeth, rolling his tongue over it to make it harder.  As he sucked at her breast, he congratulated himself for lasting this long. 

“God, Spike…harder…” Her fingers sifted through his curls on his head, kneading his scalp even as she held him in place against her breast. 

Spike felt the restless movements of the slayer and released the nipple he’d been suckling.  Concentrating on the diamond-like bud, he blew cool air over the tip, smiling as she sucked in her breath.  Then he lowered his mouth to the other rosy tip and began a repeat performance. 

Buffy was reduced to babbling at this point, begging and pleading for him to put her out of her misery.  She wasn’t quite sure how much more she could take.  Her blood was thrumming through her veins, her breathing erratic as his lips and tongue teased her flesh.   

Friction.  She needed friction.   

Knowing he’d keep her from moving yet again, she lowered one hand to her pussy.  So wet from his teasing, she didn’t have to bother with preparing herself, just shoved three fingers between her swollen outer lips – her hips arching off the bed to increase the penetration.  No thought was spared that she was pleasuring herself in front of him, her embarrassment long since past.  She need release, even a small one at this point, and if it took her giving it to herself, so be it. 

Spike could feel her movements, and tore his mouth from his prize to see her fucking herself with her fingers.  The sight was damn erotic, made more so by the look of rapture on her face.  She was so into her own pleasure she wasn’t even aware that he’d stopped what he was doing.  Was instead watching her, or more specifically, her fingers as they slipped in and out of her quim.  He zeroed in on the juices covering her slim digits, his tongue desperate to taste her. 

She was moaning now.  Her body drawing tighter as the pressure between her legs built.  Fingers increasing in speed as her pleasure mounted. 

“More, Spike…I need more…” 

Not wanting to take his eyes off her performance, he settled himself on his knees between her legs. His hand lowered to her clit, flicking his thumb back and forth across it a few times then stopping. 

“That what you need, luv?” 

Her head thrashed back and forth upon the pillows as he worked the bundle of nerves, her keens of pleasure causing his dick to twitch. 

“No?” 

Spike grabbed her hips and lifted her onto his lap.  His hand closed about her wrist, pulling her fingers from where they’d been frantically pumping at her core, lifting them to his lips so that his tongue could lick them clean.  When he was done, he dropped her hand and positioned himself at her opening. 

“How ‘bout this?” he asked, sliding into her hot, moist passage.  “This what you want, slayer?” 

Buffy gasped in surprise as he slid home, her inner muscles easily giving way as his cock filled her.  Her eyes opened, her face a mask of confusion when he just sat there, seemingly content to be just buried inside of her. 

“Your show, luv,” he answered her unasked question. 

A smile lit her face, and she raised her arms, indicating her desire to have him lift her – a request with which he happily complied.  Putting his arms around her back and hauling her up off the bed until she sat in his lap. With her chest flush against his, Buffy wrapped her arms around his back and held herself in place – pleased with the control this new position afforded her. 

She experimented a bit, finding out what felt good for her – and him.  What movements made him purr, and what drove him to grip her hips tight and groan.  This power that she held over him – similar to wearing that dress – thrilled her.  Proved she wasn’t the only one vulnerable to need. 

Buffy stilled on his lap causing a growl of protest from her lover.  Revenge was sweet, and she was determined to exact upon him the same treatment he’d gifted her.   

Lacing her fingers in his hair, she pulled his head back and brushed light kisses across his lips.  Spike had beautiful lips.  Sensual lips.  Full and soft, just begging to be kissed.  Which she did. 

Although, he seemed wise to her game, keeping his lips locked tight.  Her eyes narrowed, then a sudden thought struck her. 

“Fuck! Slayer!” he gasped.  “Again…do it again.” 

She did, only because he asked so sweetly, his purr of pleasure as she tightened her inner walls around his cock, music to her ears.  Buffy kept up the sweet torture as she kissed him, her tongue sliding inside his mouth, much the same way his had earlier.  The rumbling in his chest caught her by surprise.  Knew it meant he was close to losing control, and she was both thrilled and dismayed.  Thrilled because she liked knowing she wasn’t the only one who got lost in the other’s touch.  Dismayed because she liked being in the driver’s seat, setting the pace of their lovemaking. 

Well, if she was going to lose it, may as well go out with a bang. 

Her hips once more in motion, she rode his cock as she nibbled her way down his neck.  Fascinated by the scars, the marks that made him what he was, her tongue flicking along their outline.  She didn’t feel Spike’s face shift, her gentle teasing too much for his demon to take. 

‘Bloody chit doesn’t know what she’s doing to me,’ Spike thought as his grip on her hips tightened even more.  His hands urging her to a faster pace while his body coiled tighter and tighter beneath hers.  Since seeing her pleasuring herself, he wanted her to be the one that brought herself off.  But if she kept up what she was doing, he wouldn’t be… 

He struck blindly.  Instinctively. 

His fangs burying into his mark as her blunt teeth bit down on Drusilla’s.  She climaxed immediately, releasing his neck and crying out his name as her inner walls contracted around his cock.  Spike was in a haze of lust, so far gone, his partner’s orgasm hadn’t even registered.  

Lowing her onto her back, he lay on top of her and proceeded to fuck her senseless.  His hips thrust into hers, driving her quickly to another orgasm.  As the last shudder racked her body, Spike released his fangs from her neck and slipped out of her.  He flipped her to her stomach, lifting her ass in the air as he knelt behind her.  One quick thrust and he was buried to the hilt once again. 

Beneath him, the slayer struggled to all fours, delighting in this new position.  And his loss of control… 

Spike shoved her hair out of the way, exposing her sweat drenched back to his gaze.  Her neck still bleeding from where he’d bit her.  His arms slipped beneath her stomach and pulled her back against him – her back flush against his chest – his mouth latching onto the open wounds and lapping at her blood. Her head fell back against his shoulder, giving him whatever access he might need. 

His hand slipped into her moist curls to play with her clit, and Buffy could do nothing but whimper, caught between pleasure and pain as her over-sensitized nubbin was fondled yet again.  She felt his movements increase at his impending release, and she concentrated on squeezing his cock as it thrust in and out of her quim. 

“Yeah, luv.  Squeeze me good…feel so…damn, slayer…” he snarled. “More…that’s it, baby…fuck.” 

One final squeeze and he was done for, spilling his seed as her muscles contracted, yet again, around his length.  He rode out both of their orgasms, his hips in constant motion until the last tremor subsided. 

The slayer collapsed back against him, too sated to move.  His arms slipped about her waist to hold her close as he nuzzled her neck.  Sensing she was about to fall asleep right there against him, he lifted her off of him and gently lowered her to the mattress.  Reaching behind him, he grasped the covers and, after lying down and pulling the slayer’s body snug against him, settled them around both of their bodies. 

Moments later, they were both asleep.

tbc...

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