ImitorVitaProAmor16 Disclaimer: All characters and places, etc... belong to Joss and all those lovely people involved with making our fav tv show.
We only chose to borrow these characters for a bit to do what we enjoy doing. All that we own is our lovely plot! No
copyright infrigment is intended in any way shape or form.

With that out of the way...

Title: Imitor Vita Pro Amor (Imitating Life For Love)

Authors: Peroxide Pest and Nocturne Wytche, AKA Celeste and Debbie

Spoilers: All Seasons

Dedications: Well, I'd like to say thanks to all those wonderful S/B writers out there that have inspired me and my sister to come

outta our shells and see what y'all think of our lil fics. We'd probably like to thank each other for putting up with each other and

the sort, and of course for being so good at writing together, you can barely tell where one of us begins and one ends. Also, to
our sister, Keren, who still loves Angel, we forgive you :P Lea, thanks for all the help and support, blessed be sister.

Summary: A few unsuspected visitors come back to good ol' SunnyD and cause some more havoc in our favorite slayer's life.
She must also decide where her feelings for Spike lay. A run in with a demon changes things for Spike. S/B

Rated: R just to be safe

Note: songs come into a lot of play in the next few chapters, just to let you all know. Sorry if it becomes a nuisance, but hey
its the music of our character's hearts :P Or something to that affect... Plus, it leads to plenty of s/b romantic tension, which we
all love! Also, no copyright infringement intended on these beautiful songs, that are the backgrounds to the soul of this story :)

P.S.: We've also come to notice that Spike purring...is a GREAT thing :P *EG*
P.S.S Due to 2 mentions we've fixed the format so its easier for you all to read and enjoy, and we're such sticklers to please
our fans; its fixed :P enjoy!

Without further blabbings:

Imitor Vita Pro Amor

Part 16

Swirls of blue and white surrounded her, washing over her like transparent mesh sheets blowing with the wind. They surrounded her with the gentlest of caresses as she walked barefoot in a room filled with nothing but the blue light of morning. They blew against her bare arms like silk, whipping at her gently, like consiprational whispers. She stopped and sighed, feeling so at ease here. Her hair blew back gently as the breeze tickled her skin.

Brushing her palms along her stomach, she found herself clothed in a translucent white dress, the hem of the skirt trailing at her feet in a short train. The sheer white fabric was worn over a cream colored material underneath. A matching shawl was tucked around her arms, lightly covering her bare back. She looked in a mirror and realized, she'd never felt more beautiful. Her skin was soft and glowing, her lips shimmering with a coat of gossamer, and her eyes sparkling darkly in contrast with the light that enveloped the room. She didn't feel scared or uneasy at all, even though she was clueless as to where exactly she was. The ground was silky and soft beneath her feet, like she was walking on the petals of wild roses.

She set forth again, stepping into the mesh sheets billowing around her, and consequently, found herself traveling into darker shades of blue as she continued. Suddenly, little sparkles of light danced around the ceiling-less room. Fireflies danced their way around her, sparkling like star glitter falling from the night sky. Stars twinkled above, so close she swore she could reach out and touch them if she so desired. Stepping further along, she was no longer enclosed in a room as the walls disappeared, but an endless expanse of blue remained. An ocean of crystal blue water glimmered, and it ran across her bare feet, staining the hem of her dress. The water was cold, but it did not make her shiver. She felt at peace. She couldn't remember a time being more at ease, even in heaven.

Her slayer senses told her she should find out where she was, and what was going on, but her heart was enjoying the serenity of her surroundings too much. She giggled happily, finding strangeness in her voice. She realized it was genuine happiness. When was the last time she'd laughed like that? When was the last time she was allowed to let her guard down and just have some fun? She couldn't even remember...

Buffy kicked and splashed at the water playfully, grinning to herself. She twirled in a circle, the water swishing at her feet, letting the waves crashing into her calves. When she stopped, she heard soft music coming from the air. She searched for the source, but there was no player, no radio...it was as if the skies themselves and the mass of swirling blue overhead played the music by their own, invisible orchestras. Dark blue meshed cloths floated across her hands and feet, and she lifted them in response, suddenly dancing in the waves of the ocean. She swirled in circles, her shawl floating out like a cape at her back and her hair whipping in the wind. She smiled brightly, the cool breeze dancing along her skin. She skipped and danced along the shoreline, till her head spun and she needed to catch her breath. She stood, gasping softly for air. Her smile couldn't be flawed by anything. She was too happy, too at peace, it was complete solace.

A dark blue scarf blew above her head and came down upon her face. It came upon her eyes and it grew tight as someone tied it, blindfolding her. The material was silky and dark, and she could not see. Yet, there was no fear in her heart at the sudden change. She breathed in and she knew there was no need to fear. She was at complete ease here, and this place protected her.

Gentle hands were placed on her shoulders with feather light touch. The coolness of the contact made her sigh. It had grown so hot dancing. Then the water rushed in, lapping over their feet. The gentle hands turned her, and she wondered who her sudden companion was. Larger, masculine hands gripped her tiny ones with care, guiding her forward.

She followed. They moved in what felt like slow motion to her. She followed this stranger without thought. Her heart told her she knew this man, yet she had no idea of his identity. The ocean continued to lap at her feet, cooling her warming body. She was being lead to a place filled with warmth. She could see the difference in the light, even blindfolded. It all seemed golden in the light. She felt the heat of flickering candles, and fire crackling. It was warm, but the breeze continued blowing coolly, and the ocean at her feet. The music was growing louder too, and they finally stopped. Her curiosity was eased by her passiveness with her surroundings. His presence was comforting.

The music strummed softly, and suddenly, the hands of her companion brought her hands to his body.

She rested her hands on his shoulders and she realized he was taller, and traced the contours of his form, a well-muscled chest and broad shoulder. Her hands traveled down his taut body teasingly, only to work their way back to clasp around his neck. She swayed slowly, the music moving her.

His cool hands ran along her bare arms, into her hair, then one hand gripped at her tiny waist and he delved, basking in her beauty. She was almost an angel here, except he knew better. His other hand rested at the base of her neck, fingers woven loosely into her blonde locks. He swayed with her, the cool breeze blowing at the candle flames, and rustling her hair.

Listen as the wind blows
from across the great divide,
Voices trapped in yearning,
memories trapped in time,
The night is my companion
and solitude my guide,
Would I spend forever here
and not be satisfied

She slipped closer to him, her head finding a resting spot against his chest. She breathed in and the familiar scent left her satiated. She smiled deeply as his arms encircled her, holding her tightly.

And I would be the one
to hold you down,
kiss you so hard,
I'll take your breath away
and after I'd wipe away the tears,
Just close your eyes dear


He relished in her closeness, drowning in her scent. Her golden wisps of hair whipped
back against his cheek, tickling his skin. He trailed his palm along her bare back, tracing the contours of her shoulder blades. He felt her shiver and sigh with satisfaction. It was almost too much for him to take. He grinned to himself, her petite, but strong arms holding him flush against her. The winds blew around them in circles, swirls of blue forming a tornado of colored sky around them. The fireflies glowed effervescently around them, dancing.

Through this world I've stumbled
so many times betrayed,
Trying to find an honest word,
to find the truth enslaved,
Oh you speak to me in riddles and
you speak to me in rhymes
My body aches to breathe your breath,
you words keep me alive

The song was the story of their lives. They both knew it, and they took solace in each other's embrace. As long as they had one another, there was solace in this contramundum.

And I would be the one
to hold you down,
kiss you so hard,
I'll take your breath away
and after I'd wipe away the tears,
Just close your eyes dear

Into this night I wander,
it's morning that I dread,
Another day of knowing of
the path I fear to tread,
Oh into the sea of waking dreams
I follow without pride,
Nothing stands between us here
and I won't be denied

He closed his eyes tightly against her hair and gritted his teeth. He was fighting back the tumultuous emotions bubbling inside of his body, so close to the surface. But before he could stop himself, he began to purr softly. He wished he knew how to cut that ridiculous sound out, but he felt her ease, even with the noise of an animal. Could it soothe her? Why couldn't it…the fact that a monster of a man was holding her and comforting her was already ludicrous.

Yet, here they were dancing in the surf, surrounded by fireflies and stars.

And I would be the one
to hold you down,
kiss you so hard,
I'll take your breath away
and after I'd wipe away the tears,
Just close your eyes dear...


When the music ended and there was silence, the wind picked up and she sensed the candles flicker out. It was suddenly dark. But, it was still safe and serene. She lifted her head from his chest and she turned her gaze upwards, as if trying to see him through the blindfold. She wondered how his eyes looked as the moonlight bounced off the ocean. She deliberated whether or not his smile was as bright as hers. Her hand left his shoulder, traveling up his neck, tracing his cold lips. They weren't clammy or anything associated with what a person who was dead felt like. Their coolness was refreshing. The warmth of her skin made his lips warm to touch.

She smiled at him. She placed her palm on his chiseled cheek. "Kiss me..." she breathed into the wind. He was too in shock to move at first. He pondered whether he knew it was him. Blindfolded, she would willingly kissing him. But what if she thought he was really someone else? His lips tingled warmly. She'd get to know him if she didn't know it was him. He'd make sure of that. When he felt some pressure from her, pulling him towards her, he fulfilled her request. His lips pressed against her softly at first, heat meeting cold. He felt his entirety jump and come to life at the feel of her full, warm lips. He purred again, with desperate want. He pulled her into his embrace and his mouth came down slightly harder on hers. Her mouth parted and he ran his tongue along her lips, which were swollen from his kisses.

She met his ferocity with a gentleness all her own, and moaned softly, finally feeling what she longed for, for months. She met his actions with her own tongue, dancing along his. It was explosion after explosion, the two temperatures creating a battleground in the duel kisses between them. They returned each other's fire and ice with more of the same, neither willing to submit. She could feel her losing control from the intensity of his kisses. She moaned again when he began to gently suck on her lower lip and things began to slow, to something more tender. More loving.

Finally, they pulled apart, leaving her gasping for air and him, nuzzling her neck affectionately.

She grinned, pulling his head up. "I want to see you... I need to see you..."

He was afraid to speak. He knew his voice would be a dead give away and the fear of seeing the loathing and disgust in her eyes made him scared.

"Spike...please..." She caressed his cheek with the back of her fingers. "I...know it's you..." She paused, with a wicked smile. "It better be you..."

He cocked his head to the side. How could it be? He grinned wildly and placed a brief, sweet kiss upon her swollen lips, as his hand slid into the hair, gently slipping the knot of the blindfold loose. He removed it tenderly, pulling away from her slightly. He stood then, staring at her, awaiting her reaction.

Her eyes searched up, finding his moonlit face. She sighed with happiness, and smiled contentedly. "I knew it was you," she whispered softly, running a thumb along his cheekbone in what could only be called a lover's caress.

He watched her intense, passion-filled eyes. "I'm glad you're happy..."

"In this place...surrounded by comfort...and with you...how can I not be happy?!" Buffy smiled, laughing melodiously. "Spike, this is like heaven..." she stepped back, spinning again. "Only better!"

Spike's undead heart threatened to pound against his chest with the sudden vitality he felt. He watched her gown flowing in the moonlight, her hair blowing against the breeze...her eyes shimmering with happiness. She was beyond beauty. She was perfection.

"I feel so peaceful here. I..." she blushed. "I feel beautiful and warm and comforted..." She danced over to where the wind blew sheets of blue mesh across her. "It feels so good, every touch, every sound, every smell...it's so beautiful here. And the ocean!" She jogged over, jumping into the waves, despite her dress. "Everything here is so nice!" She made her way back to him, eyes glowing. "Can you feel it?"

He nodded. "Watching you brings me more joy than anything, Buffy... Don't you know that?"

She smiled and moved to kiss him again, this time, a familiar, gentle touch of the lips. "Spike, where are we, exactly?" she whispered up to him.

He looked down at her, cupping her face. "My dreams, Buffy..." he paused. "In my dreams, you love me, as much as I love you. In my dreams, you're at peace an' you're happy, an' as painfully beautiful as you are in reality. In my dreams, you're not blindfolded all the time. I wish you'd see it when we wake up too, pet. Can't you see how much I love you?" he gripped her arms a bit tighter, not with anger, but with determination, as if he were afraid that any second, they would wake up. "Can't you look past the demon? Can't you see the part of me that loves you, slayer and all? Please...Please…Please..." he chanted, though he already felt them being ripped away from his dream world.


"Spike!!!" Buffy screamed, eyes flying open, and she shot up. She heaved heavily, gasping for air as she was forcefully ripped from her dreams. She suddenly felt suffocated, and got out of bed, to open her window. She breathed in the night air for a moment and sighed. Her heart was racing like a freight train. Squeezing her eyes shut, she warded off the tears. Just what the hell was this all about?! And why did it take dreams of what could never be to put her truly at peace? She took a few more deep breaths; telling herself over and over that it had just been a dream. It hadn't been real.

She wrapped her arms around herself, protectively. Yet, it had felt like so much more than an unintentional subconscious fantasy.

She shivered coolly, bringing the window down, so as to leave it open just a crack. Satisfied, she then padded back over to her bed and climbed in, tucking herself into the covers. She raised her brow, seeing something lying at the foot of her bed. Reaching down, she grabbed it, plucking it off the floor. She gasped, realizing what it was. It was a beautiful, sheer white shawl. "Oh God..." she fingered the fabric. She recognized the fabric from the dress in her dream, but apparently, it had really come from her closet. A present from her mother, to match a dress she'd bought a few years ago… She wondered how it managed to get onto her bed.

Shrugging mentally, she laid it onto her nightstand table and slipped down into the bed, shutting her eyes.

Beside her bed a firefly darted out from the room and flew out into the night air. A gentle wind rustled into the room from the crack in her window, and the shawl blew and fluttered onto the floor.

But there was no Spike.

Meanwhile at the Hyperion Hotel in Los Angeles, Cordelia Chase broke out the gauze and bandages, as she and Fred helped patch up Angel's numerous wounds for what seemed like the umpteenth time in so many months. Her former boss looked like Swiss cheese, except with red, oozy holes. "Angel, you know guns? They have bullets, which cause hurt. You should duck."

"Thanks for that new bit of information Cordy," he grunted, partially in pain from the clip that had been emptied into his person by a particularly zealous street gang and partially out of annoyance.

Fred cocked her head to the side; nonplussed by the exchange, because in truth, it was something she had seen everyday for the past three months. She pressed gently on a strip of gauze, so it stuck to a wound lying on the place where his shoulder and chest met. Angel noted that her touch was infinitely more gentle and tentative than Cordelia's, who just seemed unimpressed by his ability to constantly get shot, stabbed, run over, or burned.

"Does it hurt long?" Fred asked in that tremulous, sweet voice she had, pushing her glasses back up her nose. He didn't know why, but that made her seem adorably innocent, despite the hell she had been through back in Pylea.

He smiled gently at the young woman. "It really looks more painful than it is."

Cordelia smirked and pushed hard against one of the oozing wounds, causing him to hiss sharply and wince. "Yeah, impress the ladies some other time Macho boy, and stop flexing so I can get this thing to fit right."

He opened one eye to look at Cordy, his body still bent slightly from the pain she had caused. "I survive street gangs, demon cults, and my own childer, but it's my secretary that kills me."

There was a beat, as Cordy, slightly surprised, tried to figure out how to respond to that. "You made a joke. Too bad Wesley's not here. You might have scared him. He would have thought you were all soulless again."

"Why is it that whenever I try to make jokes people automatically think that I've lost my soul?" he complained, creasing the entire plane of his face into one giant frown.

"Because you're Mister Concrete-Face. Mister Granite-Features. When you make jokes you remind us of psycho boy again. It sort of takes getting used to."

"I thought it was kinda funny," Fred offered, noticing Angel's wounded ego.

He smiled crookedly. "Thanks."

She smiled back enthusiastically before gently wrapping his chest with a strip bandage so that the broken ribs he had withstood from bouncing internal bullets would mend easier. He watched her intently. After Fred finished and tied it off, she patted it gently, as if commending the bandage itself for such good work. Angel's eye sparkled a bit before turned his attention back to Cordelia. "So when are Gunn and Wesley getting back?"

"Do I look like a psychic?" Everyone paused. "Okay, never mind. Do I look like a watch?"

"You look fine," Fred responded. Everyone paused for another beat, save Fred, who clasped her hands in her lap and waited expectantly for someone to talk.

"Thanks, Fred," Cordy smiled. "Anyway, Wesley called and said he and Gunn should be back with your new book soo…"

She never finished her sentence.

Angel, despite his wounds, moved to catch her, before she fell onto the floor. It hurt like hell, and he bit his bottom lip to keep from crying out, while Fred immediately went to get a pad and paper. "Cordy? What do you see?" Angel asked eagerly as she held her head and moaned.

"Give me…a sec, will you… you big…dope?" she ground out, in obvious pain.

"Sorry," he responded, properly chastened. Fred scurried over and held out the pen and pad to Cordelia, her glasses in crooked disarray on her face. Angel mused that he'd really need to get her some new glasses; those big thick black frames always seemed to be falling off of her delicate little face…

"Oh God! Dawn!!! He's going to… Don't touch her!!"

The words Cordelia uttered were like being submerged in a vat of ice-cold water, and Angel was slapped; quiet harshly, back into reality. "Cordy?" he asked, his voice quiet.

She groaned and shook her head, eyes watering slightly, weather from the pain or her natural empathy, no one could be sure. "God, Angel…something was taking her…it was going to feed off of her, drain her of everything."

"Our Dawn?" he asked, anxiously.

She nodded almost imperceptibly, the movement causing a fresh bout of nausea to wash over her. Fred produced the ibuprofen dutifully. Cordy smiled shakily and accepted it, pushing herself out of Angel's grasp and sitting back down on the couch.

"When?" the souled vampire asked, eyes full of anguish. He'd once tried to drain Dawn dry himself, not so long ago. Now, now he had to protect that little girl that was Buffy's sister. He hoped she didn't hold a grudge.

"Tomorrow…soon, I don't know…" the seer responded, clenching her teeth as the throbbing continued unmercifully on her skull. She vaguely wondered how Doyle had endured it for so long, the pain, both physical and emotional of others' torment.

"We can't chance it…we have to go now," Angel stated. "Or it might be too late." He glanced at the clock overlooking the counter. "It's just past 2… if we drive fast, we can get there before sunup."

"If traffic's not bad," Fred mused thoughtfully. "LA has a lot of traffic."

Despite the current situation, Angel smiled a bit at the girl's random musings. "Yeah, Fred. Traffic can be a bitch." With that, he grabbed his shirt and his duster, mindful of his wounds, and headed for the door. "Call Wesley and Gunn. Tell them to hurry up and get back, Cordy. We're leaving for Sunnydale in 20 minutes. I'll go get the car."

Cordelia downed an aspirin and watched him walk gingerly out of the hotel's double doors. "You know, we could call them and warn them. Why does he always have to have such a Batman complexion?" she muttered, rubbing sorely at her forehead.

"I used to watch Batman." Fred smiled.

Cordelia couldn't help but notice how charming the girl was, despite her wackiness. She could see why Angel had developed a soft spot for her, almost immediately. "C'mon Fred… we better go pack some things incase it's a longer trip than we think. Unlike some, we need different clothes to wear everyday." She pulled the other brunette up the stairs, grabbing the cordless and dialing Wesley's cell phone as she did. She'd have time to complain about her skull-cracking headache, later.


20 minutes later, the LA gang was in the car and moving 20 miles above speed limit towards Sunnydale. "Tell me again why the hell we ain't just callin' her? You know Angel, telephones HAVE been invented since the 1700s…" Gunn drawled from the backseat of the speeding convertible, not too happy about being dragged off to Smallville, CA in the middle of the night for no apparent reason. "I mean, she's the Slayer right, ain't she supposed to handle this sort of stuff everyday?"

Angel growled from behind the wheel of the GTX at the young man and pulled onto the highway at a rate of speed that would get them arrested. "The PTB's sent Cordy the vision. Which means they wanted ME to work on this. There's got to be something going on that they need ME for."

"You sure they ain't just shittin' with you?"

Angel glared at his coworker again through the rearview, but it didn't do much considering Gunn couldn't see it. "Look, if we can get this taken care of without Buffy finding out, all the better. We know that she doesn't need to see me."

"Because you're still the most important thing in her life right now, and she thinks about and laments you everyday, I'm sure," Cordy drawled, bored.

Fred pushed her glasses back onto her nose, sitting in-between Gunn and Wesley and asked completely innocently, "What's a Buffy?"

Cordy smirked. "Good question."

TBC...