Kindred

By Sweetprincipale

Set in early Season Five. When Dracula called Buffy 'kindred'', he was doing a bit more than just saying they had a lot in common. Hungry for knowledge of herself and her power, Buffy didn't realize what kind of connection he had forged with her until he left town, and the damage was done. Hoping to break his hold over her, Buffy requests help from Spike. However, the way you break the hold of one vampire is to let another one possess you more fully. But, it'll only be temporary, right? Simple business, that's all…

Dedicated to: All the kind and devoted readers. Your support and patience astound me.

XXXVI

"I got dresses." Buffy put a bag down on the chair that was not Spike's, which therefore meant it was hers. She hadn't actually sat down in it yet.

"I thought you said you were gonna get one for the engagement do?"

"I am!"

Spike surveyed the six bags draped on the arm of the chair. "How many can you wear at once?"

"I wanted you to help me pick it out and since we're busy at night, trying to solve this undead-ex problem, I went to the mall on lunch and skipped my afternoon class."

"But-" he wanted to protest that he wasn't being a good husband if she didn't get her classes seen to. Then she pulled the plastic off of the first few dresses and decided he would be a quiet little vampire for now.

"How else can you pick one out unless I model it for you?" she whispered seductively, dropping the sundress she was wearing, revealing braless tits that bounced out, his bites like a string of healing scars from throat to cleavage, with one mark that would never dull, though it was already white, as if it had already been there for ages. He was lost in such ethereal thoughts about life and death and how they had been meant for each other from the start, so it only made sense she bore the signs of love and time- and then his eyes drifted down and all lofty thoughts fled.

Her sex was swollen, straining the fabric of nearly-sheer pink underwear. No, it wasn't swollen- it was padded. His poor little peach, having to stay bundled up and protected by a lump of cotton wool when his loving and talented mouth should be there to caressingly clean and devour, drain every drop. He growled suddenly, unable to stand the thought of one more second without looking after her- or getting the treat he craved.

"What?" Buffy hastily held a dress over her bare body, afraid, just for a second, that she'd done something to upset him.

"You've been gone for half the day." He sauntered up to her, something almost sinister in his voice. He watched her eyes widen, her mouth drop in surprise at his predatory tone. He laid his nose to her hair and inhaled, tongue flicking across her shoulder, hands moving next as he came behind her and cupped her breasts as the fabric drooped. He sent his nose along the blades of her shoulders, tongue along the side of neck, hearing her moan. "Heavier. Thicker. More for me."

"Ohhh. Again?" she whimpered as his hand found her panties and tugged. This time there was a little blush that accompanied the sensations she had experienced for the first time last night. "I- I should go clean up. Or we should finish trying on the dresses first. I don't want to make a -"

"Mess?" He chuckled low and smokily into the hollow of her neck as he tipped it back to him. "You are not a mess. What you have is not somethin' you clean up. I clean it up for you, I receive your gift."

"But-"

"Kindred one. My wife. She shares all the life stirring in her," he bucked his hips against hers.

"I want to. I'm not worried about anything but stains on stuff I can't return," she gasped as his hands began to ease the abric from between her thighs.

He wanted to be good, he truly did, in this aspect. "Pick the pink one?" he asked desperately.

"All of them are pink. All six." Why did I buy so many dresses? That's the first and only time I'll probably ever say that.

"Bloody hell."

He looked so desperate, but like he was making an effort to control it. His hands left the thin fabric of her underwear in place and she hastily yanked out six dresses, one after the other, all pink and summery, some more sophisticated than others, some to her calf, some to her knee. "I want this moment to be perfect- and I know it can't be, because it's going to be such a tense waiting game." It could turn into more than mere bait, more than a beacon for Dracula's attention. Some big jerk might try to crash it. Maybe more than one, she privately thought, wondering if Riley or Angel might somehow show up, too.

"Pick two," Spike said suddenly. "The least favorite and the most favorite. One to slay in- one to sway in. I'm gonna make sure they play our song, and - and when it's done, I'm gonna get down on my knees in front of you, and ask if you will be my wife. I'm going to put the prettiest ring you've ever seen on your finger and I'm going to ask Rupert and Joyce if they'll give me their blessing- for real."

Buffy's breath caught. "This one. This one." She picked two dresses on instinct, the ones her gut told her, and she dragged Spike behind her, into the bedroom. He picked her up and swirled her with a lustful purr before they crashed together, stripping him out of his clothes, letting him bury himself with a longing sigh between her folds to lap up the gift she gave.

"Just so you know," Buffy whispered as her eyes lost vertical hold, "my answer is going to be yes."

"No?" Giles looked at Willow and Xander with wounded accusation.

"No," they both shook their heads, slightly guilty.

"To be fair, she's never had a phone number or- a phone of her own- before. It'll get set up, I'm sure. If whatever Wesley said was so mega important, why didn't you track her down earlier?"

"Because I'm still trying to figure out how to say what I'm going to say, but I know I need to say it!" he groaned.

"Just be honest. It works." Anya shrugged.

"I'll be honest, but I want to approach the matter delicately."

"Is it about Dracula?" Tara asked nervously.

"No."

"Is it Riley?"

"No."

"Angel? Spike? This fake wedding that we so know is going to be a real wedding?" Xander demanded.

"It's about Spike and the wedding to some extent."

"Then you'd better hope it's something nice," Buffy's voice said easily, making them all jump.

"Evenin' all. Harris! Looking dashing! Anya, you right beauty. Aww, my magical little lovebirds." Spike greeted everyone affectionately, his arms entwined around Buffy's waist and hers around his neck. They came to stop before Giles and he felt himself grinning like a fool. "Hullo, Dad."

"Is Spike drunk?" Tara hissed.

"That's a very good question." Giles blinked rapidly.

"I'm not drunk. Or, no. I am. I'm drunk on the nectar of love." He left a resounding kiss on Buffy's cheek.

"He's having a blood high. Slayer blood is powerful. And it's an aphrodisiac. You should have had sex, Spike, it takes the edge off." Anya looked at Buffy and shook her head as if she couldn't believe she'd let her partner go out in such a state.

"We did, it only made him happier," Buffy blurted. "I mean, us happier… I mean, well, what I said. I don't think I can take that one back, can I, Spike?"

"Nope. That's okay. This is my Kindred, my- my life partner." Spike gave Buffy a look of open adoration that made her sigh and pull him closer- as if that were possible.

"Unlife partner," Xander mumbled, massaging his temples and waiting for the annoyance to surge in. It lapped at his toes but rose no further.

"This is that honeymoon phase, isn't it?" Willow whispered, cheeks red and white by turns until she looked like a barber's pole.

Anya looked thoughtful. "Vampires on honeymoon probably go to Rio, Vegas, some place like that with a really high population, lots of drunken tourists, and high tourism turn over. Or the Hellmouth. Ooh. That's probably a completely underutilized revenue stream for the tourism board. A Hellmouth Honeymoon… "

"I don't think we have a tourism board, Sweetie," Xander said worriedly. He could almost see the wheels in Anya's head cranking out another branch of her fledgling event planning empire.

Giles looked from the canoodling couple to the group of spectators. The "Kindred Ones" seemed to be oblivious to anyone else, kissing unabashedly in the corner of the living room."We also don't need to encourage a new stream of demonic visitors."

"You're right. Joyce probably would prefer to let the back room of the gallery be used for human-centric events. I don't blame her, not with all of the beautiful pieces she has in there. Can you see sixteen fyarls having a dinner party there? One good sneeze and she'd be out of her deductible. I don't know if her business insurance covers act of demon…"

"We do need a different venue for the wedding, then." Tara gently maneuvered the still kissing couple toward the center of the room, seating them on the couch.

"Hm?" Buffy parted from Spike with a dazed expression. "What, Tara? Oh. Sitting. Sitting is good." Her knees were going weak and her hips were going squirmy from all of Spike's kisses.

"The engagement party is in a few days. The 'wedding' is going to be soon after?"

Well, the real one would be at the end of the semester, but the "fake" one should be as soon as possible, get that beast out of our lives. How soon is soon after? What if he already knows? What if he can really tell now, after- after- Images of the intimate things she and her husband had shared in their new home, their safe haven halted her thoughts as well her speech.

Buffy hesitated a shade too long. Spike jumped in, "Right, just give the demon grapevine time to circulate its twisty way back to Drac. I'm sure he's got some devotees keepin' an eye on this place, seein' as his once and future ex is here." Spike scowled. "Maybe the countess lady of Wesley's will have some tips on luring him out."

"Speaking of Wesley, Buffy, if I could-"

"The engagement party! I didn't even ask! Did you get the dress during lunch?" Willow demanded.

"The bridal salon on-"

"The wedding is actually a giant slay-fest, so you're right, we totally cannot have that in Mom's gallery. Spike- a church is out, right?"

"Oh come on, Luv, what do you think?"

"I think I need to speak to Buffy privately!" Giles made himself heard with a shout and slamming a book impatiently on the edge of his desk.

It seemed far too loud.

Buffy's head turned, not toward her intemperate Watcher, but toward the second source of noise- the apartment door, left unlocked after her giddy arrival with Spike had been slammed shut- from the inside.

Riley looked gray and sweaty, but no less threatening thanks to the gun in hand as his back rested on the wooden doorframe, almost as if he needed the support. The gun was pointed at Spike, but his eyes were locked on Buffy's. "Hi, Honey. Miss me?"

To be continued… (soon, don't worry!)

Author's End Note:

Hi everyone, Thank you for the continued love and support lately. What a bumpy ride, huh? But good friends make it better. My life went crazy for the past few weeks leading up to the release of my new paranormal romance novel, Pale Girl by S.C. Principale. It's free with KU. I would love it if some readers felt like giving it a try!