Thank you so much for all the love for this story so far… especially to those who've stuck with me all these years! You deserve this happy ending as much as the characters do! Also, a big welcome to all my new readers!
Anyhow, they FINALLY have their happy ending… but it's not quite over yet! We still need to see how our favourite couple settle into Sunnydale together, so stay tuned - and please continue to let me know what you think!
Also, lil' disclaimer... the song lyrics which feature at the end of this chapter are from 'Lover, you should've come over' by Jeff Buckley. Check it out if you wish - I could definitely imagine poetic, post-soul Spike writing or singing an old-school acoustic love ballad like this!
P.S. Chapter warning: More sexy times (hooray!)
"C'mon, Spike." Spike shrank away from the blood-filled mug, shuddering as Willow poised the straw to his lips. "You've got to drink, or… or you'll starve."
Reluctantly, Spike - for the umpteenth time - attempted to down the crimson, guilt-laced liquid. He belched as he tried to swallow his first mouthful, and shuddered reflexively.
Dawn entered the room, smiling sunnily at Spike. "How's the patient?" she asked Willow, placing a cool, soothing hand on Spike's head.
"Still struggling to keep anything down," Willow replied matter-of-factly, yet her eyes were worried. "It's only his standard pig's blood… but for some reason, his body and mind seem to keep rejecting it."
"Spike: the reformed vegetarian," Dawn giggled, only to receive a sharp look from Willow.
"Dawnie, this is serious…"
"I know, I know. Must be a 'new soul' thing, I guess," Dawn murmured sympathetically, mussing Spike's messy blonde curls. He grunted in response. He at least wasn't spouting frenzied rhymes and riddles any more, but he was weak… which made him, uncharacteristically, a vampire of very few words.
Dawn missed him. She was dying to hear a scathing, sarcastic remark, or for his lips to quirk upwards with one of his many pet names for her, or to even hear him crack an inappropriate, witty joke at someone else's expense.
"I think you're right," Willow sighed, making her way to the door. "Must be some kind of association with all the post-ensoulment guilt he's facing… even if it is only pig's blood-"
As if on cue, Spike abruptly pushed the mug away, and frantically clapped his hands over his mouth as he began retching.
"Dawnie - the basin!" Willow probed urgently.
Dawn dove beneath the bed, but she was too late. Spike sicked up the undigested liquid all over himself: blood mingled with bile. He coughed deeply, and dry-heaved a couple of times, as Dawn sympathetically rubbed his back.
"It's alright, Willow, I'll clean him up."
"I'll go get some towels…" Willow replied hastily, before heading toward the kitchen.
"You okay, Spike?" Dawn asked softly, before gently dabbing at his face with a tissue she'd retrieved from her pocket.
"'M s-sorry… Niblet," Spike rasped. Dawn couldn't help but smile.
"Where is she?" Spike murmured, still half-asleep. "Where's Buffy?" There was a note of panic in his slurred voice.
Willow shushed him, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We still don't know, Spike. But she'll be okay, I know it. Buffy's always okay." She spoke in soft, soothing tones, attempting to reassure both him and herself.
Spike sat up, still swaddled in a cocoon of blankets. Willow was relieved to report his progress: compared to earlier in the week, he was looking far less hauntingly pale and gaunt, as his sickened, guilt-ridden mind had finally become reaccustomed to feeding on blood. And with some of his strength back, he was finally making coherent conversation. Most of these conversations consisted of him lamenting about Buffy's whereabouts, somewhat akin to a sick child calling for its mother - but still, it was a start.
"Red, I need to find her…" Spike made a sudden feeble attempt to get up, but Willow quickly coaxed him to lay back down onto the soft pillows.
"Spike, you're not gonna do anyone any good by getting outta this bed - least of all yourself," she rebutted gently. "You need to get your strength back, both mentally and physically. Please, just let yourself heal." Willow found herself absent-mindedly stroking a stray curl out of Spike's eyes. Much to her surprise, she'd found herself growing fond of this newly-souled vampire. She… cared about him. He was her friend. And maybe, deep down, he always had been…
"Look, Buffy's… Buffy. She'll be fine… she probably just needs some time."
"Time?" Spike repeated dully. "What do you bloody mean - time?!"
Willow almost quirked a smile.
There's the Spike we all know and love…
"Time to herself - time away from everything. Time… just to breathe."
"I miss her, Red," Spike said quietly. He sounded broken; there was a lost, desolate sadness in his eyes. "'M gonna find her." He lay on his side, closing his eyes. Sleep was clearly overtaking him. "Need to find her…"
Willow gave his hand a squeeze, before slowly retreating out of the room. "We will, Spike. We'll find her, don't you worry - now, you just get some sleep. Rest up."
She didn't hear his next words, which were spoken subconsciously as he drifted into the dreaded state of dream. Since winning back his soul, Spike's dreams were often horrifically unpleasant. Mostly, they were torturous replays of the worst things he'd ever done, paired with the faces of all his victims, haunting him - taunting him. Most nights, he woke up screaming.
Or, he dreamed of her. Always her.
"Need to find you… when're you coming back to me, Elizabeth?" he murmured sleepily. "Come back to me… everything's okay, right?" Silent tears ran down his face, as he curled into a protective ball, reluctantly succumbing to sleep. "Can… can we rest now? Buffy… sweet Elizabeth… can we rest?"
"I can't believe you were so sick… and I wasn't there to look after you," I stroked Spike's face tenderly. I hated the idea of my poor love having to go through such a horrific ordeal; Spike was always so strong and robust - seemingly untouchable - so it was hard to imagine him embodying any form of weakness or illness. I only wished I'd been there to hold him, to take care of him. "You seriously couldn't even eat…?"
"Nope - not at first, anyway. Think at one point I threw up all over poor Red," he confessed sheepishly. "She was constantly worrying 'n' fretting about me, bless her - kept saying I was gonna starve -"
"Your poor thing," I murmured with feeling, pressing sympathetic kisses to his temple.
"But, y'know, it was purely psychological. All the guilt I felt…" Spike shuddered, clearly still deeply affected. "I guess my mind just associated blood - any kind of blood - with all the god-awful things I've done. But, once I actually became properly starving, my vamp instincts kicked in, and I… I just got over it, I 'spose."
"…And the dreams?"
"Won't lie to you, pet. I still have them sometimes," Spike said quietly, his eyes locked intently on mine. "It's not something you can just escape, y'know? But," a small smile flickered on his lips, "I reckon my sleep'll be a lot sweeter with you in my arms."
"I love you," I blurted, suddenly desperate to remind him. I need him to know.
With a sudden growl, Spike deftly pulled me into his arms. "Did you know, Buffy," his voice was deep, velvet-smooth and seductive in my ear, "the more times you say it, the more I'm actually starting to believe it."
I positioned myself so that I sat astride him, and kissed him fiercely on the mouth. "You better believe it. I fucking love you, Spike…"
"Say it again - again, with my name," he purred between kisses.
"I love you… Spike."
Spike let out a low, erotic moan in response. "Slayer…"
We were now lying horizontally on the rug, in a delicious mess of tangled limbs. My senses were all slightly hazed by alcohol, and I felt like I was floating with happiness. Lying in Spike's arms, feeling his lips on mine… I just felt so blissfully happy. Like everything in the world was right again.
I'm so happy… and definitely horny.
Our kiss irresistibly deepened; he tasted me with his tongue, and caressed me with those large, wandering hands of his. I moaned against his mouth as he worshipped my quivering, feminine form with his dexterous fingers. I found myself rapidly losing control; I ground my wet core against him, feeling him hard and throbbing through his jeans.
I want him now…
"Can't believe you're still wearing this bloody thing," Spike snickered, roughly squeezing my corset-clad breasts. "Well, not for long…" The sound of his voice - deep, rough and rich - was enough to undo me; I felt a throbbing heat pooling between my thighs.
I'm so wet for him.
Lovingly, yet with a domineering finesse, Spike span me round, deftly undoing the strings of my corset.
"Good job I remember how to undo these - 's'been a long while," he grinned, forcefully turning me so he could greedily feast his eyes upon my breasts, which sprung free in all their petite, perky glory.
"Just to clarify… I am never wearing a corset ever again," I declared firmly, sighing with relief as Spike helped me to fluidly remove the rest of my highly outdated clothing.
He looked thoughtful, as he removed my undergarments at a teasingly slow pace. "Never?" I lay back, panting for breath. "Not even for a spot of role-play? Thought you might like that…" Two of his fingers suddenly plunged inside me, whilst his thumb irresistibly rubbed my clit. "…Miss. Elizabeth?"
I piercingly screamed his name, uncaring if the whole world heard. My legs seemed to buckle beneath me; I was overwhelmed by the exquisite ecstasy of his achingly familiar touch.
Fuck, fuck, fuck…
Spike was on top of me now, pinning me down with one muscular arm, whilst deliciously finger-fucking me with the other. He paved a burning path of kisses down my neck, as he sensually ground his hips against mine. I suddenly came hard all over his hand; I could've wept at the way he made my body sing.
"Already, love?" Spike grinned delightedly, moaning as I roughly grabbed the frankly huge bulge in his pants.
"Spike… baby, you know what you do to me," I pulled his face to mine, kissing him passionately. "I want you so fucking bad, Spike."
I'm gonna keep saying his name, again and again… until he truly believes that it's him I want. Here and now - I'm his.
I tore at his clothes desperately; I wanted them off. He helped me tackle the buttons of his silky black shirt, and I hungrily confronted the belt buckle of his jeans. Soon, my inhumanly handsome love stood before me, in all his Godly, naked glory. And I won't lie… I was almost salivating at the sight. His dark golden roots were showing, and a few disobedient curls fell over his perfect, chiselled face. And, oh my, his body was just divine… from broad shoulders which tapered to those damn lickable abs, and that delicious 'V'-line which I so loved, that met the soft brown curls beneath. And his cock… it protruded, snake-like, erect and proud. It was mouthwateringly large in length, and robustly thick - yet simultaneously, it was the prettiest cock I'd ever laid eyes on, like it'd been sculpted out of marble.
I sat up, devouring him with lust-filled eyes, my legs spread invitingly. With blue eyes that burned into mine, Spike effortlessly lifted me into his arms, and carried me towards the bed, bridal-style.
As I fell into the soft mattress beneath him, I looked up into the face of the man I loved. My William. My Spike. His hands cupped my face tenderly, as seamlessly yet momentously, he entered me. My screams of pleasure were muffled by his lips hungrily devouring mine. We kissed with an urgency which was mirrored by the depth and rhythm of our thrusts. I achingly arched up my hips to meet him, as we rapidly increased our pace; as per, our dance was blissfully in sync, yet equally a wild, untameable thing.
A low growl ripped from his throat, as he soon flipped me over, so that he lay beneath me - and I was tremulously mounting him. He knows how much I love being on top. With a devilish grin flickering on his full lips, Spike firmly cupped my ass as I sat astride him, and we held positively scorching eye contact as slowly, sensually, I began to ride his mammoth cock. Spike lay back, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he bit his lip, moaning softly. My own moans rang out in perfect harmony as I continued to ride him vigorously, picking up speed; the almost unbearable sensation of taking all of him, hitting my sweet spot with each thrust, had truly overcome - and undone - me. I felt my walls tighten around him, already on the brink of another earth-shattering orgasm. Spike clearly felt this too; he sat up fluidly, grabbing tightly onto my ass and thighs as he began to thrust powerfully into me. I wrapped my legs around him, and met his lips for another dizzying kiss. I felt tears prick my eyes, overwhelmed by the feeling of having him inside me, back where he belonged, of our bodies joining together as one.
I pulled away from his kiss to look deep into his eyes: the most beautiful ocean blue. "Make love to me, Spike."
Spike took a deep, shuddering breath, as his sensually moving hips were paired with slow, delicate kisses all over my face. I tightened my legs around his torso, fervently meeting his thrusts, as I kissed him in tandem; the sharp angle of his cheekbone, the soft flutter of his eyelashes, the tip of his nose. Finally, blissfully, we found each other's lips again.
"God, I love you, Buffy," Spike breathed. His hands tangled in my hair, which spilled through his fingers like a waterfall of sunshine. I lovingly traced the contours of his beloved face, as I moaned softly against his lips.
"I love you too, Spike."
"Always."
"And forever… fuck, Spike - I'm cumming!"
Spike groaned gutturally as my pussy tightened and spasmed around him, and my juices flowed freely down his cock. Reflexively, he began thrusting into my wetness with an urgent, quickened need, his stormy eyes never leaving mine.
"Fuck, Buffy… do you want my cum, my love?"
"Yes - cum for me, baby," I yelped, my body still convulsing after my countless orgasms. "My love." I kissed him long and hard on the lips. Spike suddenly reached for my hand, intertwining our fingers. I clasped his hand tight, and, with a tremulous shudder and a sob-like shout, he came inside me. The hot, burning liquid filled me explosively, as Spike collapsed in my arms, utterly spent. We fell back onto the bed, our bodies entwined, both physically and emotionally overcome by the intensity of what we had just shared. We lay like this, as one, for a long while, basking in our beautiful afterglow of entangled limbs, soft smiles, nuzzling noses and sleepy, drugging kisses.
We'd had sex a million times before… yet this time was different, somehow. Whilst the flames of our passion used to burn and consume - until I feared there'd be nothing left - we were now alight with a fire that was new. As our lips had collided and our bodies moved as one, these flames were aglow with love.
Effulgent, you could say.
And these flames promised eternity; they could never burn out.
Spike sat, staring into space, cradling the guitar. He was grateful Giles had lent it to him; he'd learnt to play in the 60s, but it'd been a long while. It was like greeting an old friend - an old lover.
He was still cooped up in the spare room at Willow's, but was definitely feeling a lot more like himself. Perched on the edge of the bed, clad in his classic black T-shirt and jeans combo, with the guitar astride his knee, he cut a dashing figure. The typical brooding musician-type, you could say - especially with those unruly blonde curls falling into his eyes.
He felt better - but not better, at the same time. How could he be, without her? Sighing forlornly, Spike began to strum, his long fingers dexterous upon the strings. And due to a sudden urge, which this time wasn't actually due to a spell, but more so his secret poet's heart, Spike began to sing.
"So I'll wait for you, and I'll burn,
Will I ever see your sweet return,
Or, will I ever learn?
Oh, lover you should've come over,
'Cause it's not too late.
Lonely is the room, the bed is made,
The open window lets the rain in.
Burning in the corner is the only one
Who dreams he had you with him.
My body turns and yearns for a sleep
That won't ever come.
It's never over,
My kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder.
It's never over,
All my riches for her smiles
When I slept so soft against her.
It's never over,
All my blood for the sweetness of her laughter.
It's never over,
She's the tear that hangs inside my soul forever."