A/N: Yes I've heard your cries. Those heartfelt voices screaming out 'Wait a second Sass. Isn't this rated NC-17?' You in the back. I heard that. Does your mother know you talk that way? So hide your blushing eyes kiddies (always wanted to say that) there will be NC-17 material in this chapter. And don't you dare skip to the end first. I'll be watching and taking names.
I don't know who did it but if it was you here's a big ole cyber kiss. This fic has been nominated for the Bad Ass Spike award at the Watching You awards and an Immortal Moonlight award for best AU. Snoopy dances are abounding in this section of the world. So thanks you so much to whoever did that. I've never been nominated for anything before and it made me cry…in the good way.
The feedback I have received has been amazing and insightful. I thank you all.
Okay shutting up now. I'm staring to get all weepy. It's not pretty. Off with you now, go read. And No Skipping!!
Buffy gently eased the hotel room door shut and paused for moment, staring at the wood. With a big gulping breath, taken to calm her nerves, she slowly turned to face the room. Reaching trembling hands into her pocket, she retrieved the spell as she crept closer to the bed dominating the room.
Bumping up against the edge of the mattress, she let her gaze swing over the figure on it. Mr. Burke was spread languorously across the bed in a pose the reminded her of someone awaiting a lover. The steady rise and fall of his chest, however, assured her of his slumberous state. Without warning and without any real conscious thought on her part, Buffy dropped to her knees alongside the bed. Twisting her body, she came to rest with her back pressed intimately against the softness of the mattress. The random and self-justifying thought meandered through her mind that it would be much easier to complete the spell if she didn't actually have to look at him. Picking up the pieces of her scattered courage, she lay one hand against her heart, which was hammering away painfully in her chest and smoothed the paper out on her knee with the other.
Buffy stared blankly at the spell. The words just seemed to run together, of course, they were Latin. It wasn't such a big stretch that they made no sense.
Why can't they make spells in English? I mean really, give an American a chance.
Buffy quietly cleared her throat, not sure if she was stalling or just searching for the right approach. The spell was supposed to bind his powers and she found herself wishing woefully for the days when all that was required of her was a big axe and some simple decapitation. Having a birthright could be a real bitch when you broke it down.
And how much does that little statement say about my life.
She squinted slightly, tilted her head ten degrees to the right and attempted to sound out the first word.
So not helping.
Maybe it's like a tongue twister. The faster you say it, the more it makes sense.
With that plan in mind, Buffy hunched her shoulders, brought the paper within inches of her face, and began to garble out the spell as fast as she could.
Coniecto quisnam inquam combibo abs veneficus. Utinam vobis vel inster hac veneficus vere sentential. Alac decet corrupmo. Hac acquiro suum animus reversus.
As the last syllable died in the air, Buffy let out a long, pent-up breath.
Okay now, that wasn't so hard. No tingly sparky stuff but not bad. Oh yeah, I'm good. Go me. Who needs a witch, anyway?
Rolling to her knees, Buffy slowly peeked her head over the edge of the bed. She had to blink a few times to focus on what she was seeing inches from her face.
Deep green, wide awake eyes.
Buffy was pinned to the spot with the force of his gaze. It wasn't that his eyes spoke of anger or fear or…anything, really. They were quite simply, completely and utterly, blank. Not a sliver of emotion reflected in their depths and the absolute lack of it had a long tremor suffusing every muscle in her body. Buffy watched, with an almost disturbed fascination, as the corner of his well sculpted mouth turned up slightly in what she supposed, passed as a smile. She couldn't help but wonder what the effects on his face would be if he opened up and actually grinned.
It'd probably crack in half… Okay, Buffy, focus. Seriously demented man here. What are you going to do?
Some corner of her mind was screaming at her to run, but the part of her mind that controlled the use of her limbs had decided to up and take a vacation. So as it was, she could do absolutely nothing except stare, frozen in place, as his lips moved in preparation to speak.
"You didn't honestly think that was going to work did you?"
Buffy's heart slammed up in her throat as a thick, black fog suffused her body.
Okay. Spell. So not working.
Spike and Ian crept quietly along a corridor towards a door that rose beckoningly from the end of the hall. Their trip to the hotel was accomplished in absolute silence, as was their assent to the top floor. Not that Spike hadn't tried to get some dialogue going, in fact, he had opened his mouth at least half a dozen times to ask just what the hell was going on. But the questions had died on his lips each time he dared look at Ian. The smooth lines of Ian's face had been rippling between vampire and human in an almost constant pattern. He could almost have set his watch by it. Not that he wore a watch, no self-respecting creature of the night would. He might be temporarily neutered- the phrase made his lips curl- but he was not going to give in and let society conform him to it standards of-
Spike shook his head, the gesture designed to bring his errant thoughts back on their intended path.
The whole point here was… Ian's demon was screaming to get out and Spike was sincerely glad he was not the one on the receiving end.
"This is the one."
He jumped slightly as Ian's low timbre filled the corridor. Glancing around awkwardly, he realized that during his mental ramblings they'd come to a stop in front of the last door in the hall.
Bloody well figures he'd be in the penthouse. Damn poncy bugger probably thinks it would ruin that carefully cultivated image to be anywhere below the tenth. When are these wankers gonna get that you can be just as menacing on the first floor?
Spike didn't quite know when he'd picked up a fear of heights. Never had it before, but now the thought of being very far above ground level made his stomach twist. Shrugging it off as best he could, Spike hefted the sword over his shoulder and gestured towards the door with all the showiness of an eighteenth century gentleman. "After you."
Lifting one booted foot, Ian smashed the door open.
"Well now, was that absolutely necessary?"
Spike peered around Ian's broad frame to see the source of the voice.
Huh. I was right…damn poncy bugger.
A man stood in front of the room's wide bay window. The lights of the city reflected his features back to Spike's discerning eye. He was medium in height with short, carefully styled, black hair. Spike could instantly see the resemblance to Rain. The wide set, green eyes and slight nose…but the comparison stopped there. Where as Rain vibrated with energy and life, this creature was nearly silent in his intensity. His eyes cast an unearthly light into the room that was in no way a by-product of the streams of moonlight reflecting off his face. The slight glow from his eyes was in absolutely no way human. Even for a vampire who had seen and been the cause of many horrors, this man could induce a cold finger of fear to crawl up even the most evil spine. In essence, he was just…creepy.
"Cainen."
Spike flinched at the malice in Ian's voice as his friend nearly breathed out the name. That tone did not bode well for anyone in the room. Spike didn't have long to contemplate just what exactly was going to occur since the prey chose that moment to speak. His words left Spike wondering just who exactly was being hunted.
"Aaaah. It speaks. Not a quality I usually associate with beings of your level. How…refreshing. Please, do come in. Now that you've so colorfully announced yourself, I find it rude to keep you waiting in the doorway."
Ian charged forth, his entire intent broadcast in his steps. Spike entered a tad more slowly. He could hear the subtle beat of Cainen's heart but there was something slightly off about it. Not sure if that difference was enough to offset the chip, he erred on the side off caution.
Consequently, Spike was still only a few steps from the doorway while Ian was inches away from swinging his very impressive axe towards Cainen's head. A few metaphors tripped through his brain about men and the size of their weapons but he quickly pushed them back as he felt an entirely unnatural energy force him back against the wall. Pinned helplessly, all he could do was watch as a thick ribbon of pure black power wrapped around Ian's arm.
Dropping to his knees, Ian could do nothing but rip at the thing on his arm. Spike had no clue what the substance was but he could see where it was beginning to eat through Ian's flesh.
Cainen crouched right in front of Ian, a slightly bored look on his face. "You always were a maim now, ask questions later sort, weren't you? But, come to think, I never really did credit you with an overabundance of intelligence. "
Ian glared back, gritting his teeth through the pain. "What are you doing here, Cainen?"
"That's a very good question. Unfortunately for you, I'm only willing to discuss things with my dear little sis. Now, don't look so upset. Tell you what, I'm pretty sure that if you think really hard you can come up with an answer."
"You won't touch her."
"Oh see, you're using that lump between your ears already. You're absolutely correct, I won't touch her. I won't have to. I can kill her without laying a finger on her. Matter of fact, in exactly the same way I can kill you right now."
"So what's stopping you, Cainen? Isn't this your game, attacking when someone can't defend themselves."
"Ah ah. Let's try to keep this civil, shall we. I'm not going to kill you…today. No, I have a much more fitting end for you in mind. How does this grab you? You will get to watch as Rain dies a slow and excruciatingly painful death. Oh but wait, that's not the best part. You will watch all this with the knowledge swimming around in your helpless little head that not only is your beloved dying, but with the last breath she takes, you and your dear sister go with her. It's really quite poetic, don't you think?"
The fear in Ian's heart overrode the pain in his body. His arm shot out, even as he pulled himself to feet. Within moments he had brought Cainen up to his level by way of suspending him inches off the floor by his neck. A slight crunching noise rippled through the air and gold eyes bored into green. "You'll never get the chance."
Considering his position, Cainen took the assault with an amazing amount of calmness. "But I will, you simpleton. You're not going to kill me."
"What makes you think that?" Even before the words left his throat, Ian was shooting forward, his teeth aiming for the vein he had every intention of ripping open.
"Because if you did by some miracle manage to hurt me, all the power I'm expending right now to keep certain things…afloat, as it were, would be lost."
Inches away from his destination, Ian paused. There was something in Cainen's voice that just wasn't right. "What the fuck are you talking about?"
"Tell your little friend there to look out the window. I think this will interest him particularly."
At Ian's nod, Spike, released from his invisible bonds, forced himself to move towards the window. His gaze never straying from the two figures in the room, he reached his destination and made himself look out over the lights of San Francisco. Glancing back over his shoulder, he shrugged slightly at Ian. A puzzled expression lifting his features.
Cainen's patience abruptly hit its end. "Oh for…Look down, you idiot."
Spike bristled but did as instructed. The sight before him had his hands hitting the window with enough force to shatter it. The glass rained down in a shimmering cascade of silver- directly onto the girl suspended in thin air a few feet below the window. Spike stared helplessly down into frightened hazel eyes.
"Buffy!"
"Of all the idiotic, typically male, things to do. I mean, what the hell was he thinking?"
Rain stomped quickly down the street, Tasha a few steps behind her.
She had been royally pissed off when Tasha woke her up and told her what Ian was doing. The closer they got to the hotel, the angrier she became. She clutched that fury to her like a shield. If she could just hold onto it, the mind-numbing fear would stay back for just a little while longer.
Still wrapped up in her visions of the violence she intended to inflict on Ian, Rain barely registered when she reached the lobby of the hotel and wrenched open the front door. Pausing for a second, she tossed a glance over her shoulder to check for Tasha. The vampire was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at the sky with a completely dumfounded look on her face.
"Coming?" Rain barked. She was in no mood for sightseeing. Tasha's complete lack of response added fuel to the already-considerable fire and Rain wasted no time stomping back to her.
Which a vicious twist, Rain had Tasha's arm in her grip and was roughly pulling her towards the entrance. Tasha stumbled a few steps and then seemed to shake off whatever had been interesting enough to make her stop. With a low mumbled 'sorry', Tasha was once again heading for the hotel. Rain resisted the urge to kick her in the ass and took a step to follow. An uncompromising need to look up crawled along her brain. Before she could decipher if the thought was even hers, she had already complied.
"Holy shit"
She stared in horror as the image of Buffy suspended outside the top window of the twenty story building burned into her brain. Seeking momentary relief, her gaze shifted a bit and she was shocked to see Spike seemingly frozen in the window. He was staring at Buffy with an intensity that nearly broke her heart.
She didn't know how long she stood there, frozen in place, her mind racing over a dozen different options. A presence next to her brought her swiftly out of her frantic contemplation. A very old, very familiar presence. She turned slowly to face her brother.
He was standing beside her on the sidewalk, watching the Slayer as if she was the main attraction at the air show.
Cainen leisurely brought his gaze down to meet hers. "Lovely day, isn't it."
He looked exactly the same. Which shouldn't have surprised her, seeing as how she hadn't changed in eighty years, but none-the-less, it did.
"What do you want, Cainen?"
Cainen slid his hands behind his back and thrust his chest out like a dandy taking a mid-morning stroll. "You know everyone seems to be asking me that. Must be the question of the day. I must say, I'm a tad bit disappointed, Rayann. I recall teaching you much more civilized manners than this. We've been here exactly two minutes and you have yet to ask after my health. Did that demon strip you of all your niceties when he stripped you of your virginity?"
Green fire blazed through Rain's eyes but she kept her voice low to match Cainen's quiet tones. " Niceties are for people who earn them. I repeat. What. Do You. Want?"
Cainen tilted his head to the side and regarded her thoughtfully before answering. "Why, the same thing I always wanted, Rayann. My sister to be where she belongs."
No amount of willpower could have kept the derision out of her words. "Where's that Cainen? All tucked up home at home knitting you sweater sets?"
"Never did know your place, did you? I can't believe, after all these years, you still think you know everything about everybody. The truth of the matter is, you should have died like a good girl years ago. I intend to right the balance you've so selfishly disrupted."
A loud, unladylike snort erupted from Rain and she fought hard to suppress a smile at his affronted look. "The balance! Hello! What about you? Last time I checked, you weren't supposed to be here either."
"So nice to see the years haven't played havoc with your vernacular abilities. As to my status in this world, I will be exiting it shortly after you. See, my dear, I know my purpose. "
Rain's gaze raked his body, searching for the source of his continued existence. "What did you do, Cainen?"
"It was quite simple really, I made an…exchange for the greater good. The greater purpose, if you will."
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "So…what? You sold your soul for eternal life. How utterly prosaic of you."
"It wasn't quite that vulgar. Yet one more subject you could never begin to grasp." Cainen paused for a moment. His eyes taking inventory of her. Folding his arms across his chest, he brought one finger up to tap against his chin in thought. "You know, I was planning to finish this quickly but it appears I've changed my mind. No, I do believe I've waited too long not to savor the experience. I'll tell you what. In the spirit of brotherliness, why don't you take your little vampire pets home for now and we'll pick this up later."
Rain wasn't sure what was forcing the bile out of her throat faster, his threats or his reference to brotherliness. Swallowing the many, many, remarks she wanted to make, Rain settled for simplicity. " Fine. Let her go."
Cainen blinked once in surprise and looked up at Buffy. One look at his face showed he had completely forgotten he was currently holding the Slayer's life in his hands.
"Oh, I'm afraid I can't do that. She's kind of like a gift with purchase at this point. " Cainen leaned in conspiratorially. " You know, she's not supposed to be here either. Fortunately for her, she already knows that. Let's just say I'm fulfilling her wish."
Buffy's scream echoed continuously off the surrounding buildings as she plummeted towards the ground. The only thing that overshadowed it was Spike's roar of rage from the window above.
All the players in the tableau seemed to freeze in place as Buffy came to an abrupt halt seconds before crashing through the roof of an old abandoned theatre below.
Cainen turned dispassionate eyes towards his sister, who was standing stiffly beside him, her lips barely moving as she chanted a counter spell.
"Well done, Rayann. You've improved vastly. Unfortunately, not enough."
With less effort than it took to button his shirt, Cainen sent Buffy's helpless body crashing through the building. The force of his magic so immeasurably overpowered Rain's efforts that the resulting backlash drove her to the pavement. Cainen crouched down beside his sister, a slight smile curving his lips.
"Slayers, I've learned, are pesky little creatures. It seems to take a lot to kill them. Let's just help her along, shall we."
Rain watched helplessly as Cainen siphoned off the last off her power and forced the building to begin collapsing around Buffy.
Struggling to her knees, Rain fought blindly for her power.
"Rain!"
She turned her head slightly as Ian came rushing out of the building towards her.
Cainen was nowhere in sight.
Spike stared down at the tiny slip of a girl lying still on the floor of the building.
Too still.
A portion of his brain processed the chunks of roof breaking away and raining down around her. But the part in control was busy trying to decide what his next move would be. He could feel every fiber of his being screaming at him to jump. The fall wouldn't kill him but he knew without a shadow of a doubt that the leap would forever change the course of his life. There was something inside him he couldn't name, something eternal, and it was centered around the Slayer. He felt utterly powerless to change the events to come, almost like he was being pulled to her like a puppet on a string.
Spike was no one's puppet.
With a force of will he'd almost forgotten he possessed, Spike took one small step backwards, away from the window. Away from the Slayer and a fate he wanted no part of.
The slight sensation of two small hands at the base of his spine made him jerk roughly in place. Before he could turn to see who, or what, was touching him, the hands gave a strong shove and his body was unceremoniously pitched out the window.
He barely had time to register the fall before he was landing heavily beside Buffy. Lying stunned in the pile of rubble for a moment, he lifted his head and stared through slitted eyes at the girl lying next to him. A piece of roof came crashing down within inches of his face.
With considerable less grace than was warranted, Spike threw himself over the Slayer as fast as his newly-broken leg would allow. He was resigning himself to his fate.
At least for the moment anyway.
Seconds later, a large section of roof crashed down on his back pinning him between it and her. After one last glance around with what could only be described as disgust, Spike gave himself gratefully up to the same black void the Slayer currently enjoyed.
Rain felt her stomach rebel at the sudden change in height as Ian snatched her up in is arms. She dimly registered Tasha screaming at him to put her down and save Spike. Rain tucked her head into Ian's neck, straining her voice to whisper that she had sealed the building.
" No one can touch them… for now. "
Rain's head lolled back against Ian's shoulder as the last of her energy seeped away.
Ian's fingers danced over her face. "Sssh just rest, baby. I'll get you home. You're safe now."
"I'm not leaving him here!"
Ian turned a furious gaze on his sister. There was no doubt in his mind that Tasha had completely disregarded his instructions to keep Rain safe. It was that thought prompting his next words.
"Then stay here and fry."
Tasha watched, stunned, as Ian walked away. Even as the sun began to break over the horizon, she stood frozen in place shaking with barely suppressed rage.
This is all that bitches fault. Before she came, Ian never would have turned his back on me. Never.
A chilling smile crept across her mouth.
That little twit of a Slayer and Miss holier-than-thou think they can do anything they want. Well they have no idea who they are dealing with. Spike and Ian are mine, and no one is going to take them away. No one.
Tasha forced herself to follow behind her brother.
Something is going to change. I haven't pulled this idiotic 'little miss goody two shoes' act for so long to just get kicked in the head.
Taking one final look at the building, her gaze rose to rest on the window of the room Cainen had occupied.
Something...
There were things that could not be forgotten about in the heat of passion. Who she was, who he was. Who they could be…together. She slept, the one and only time he could begin to think of her as innocent. Yet as he lay awake, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, her hand curled just so under her cheek, she was the perfect picture of beauty, serenity and ultimate innocence. Propping his body up on one hand, he splayed out along the length of her, and rolled her to her back so that he could simply do this. Watch her while she slept.
With one hand that trembled a bit too much for his liking, he reached out and trailed his fingers from breast to hip. His gaze never once leaving her face, he let his fingers show him everything his eyes could not.
She felt him even in sleep, she must have, because her hips surged sensuously towards his wandering fingers. Her nipples hardened. Her body arched invitingly. Her lips parted subconsciously inviting a kiss.
Even as his body shot rigidly to attention, he shoved the urge to devour down deep and leaned gently in to press his lips to hers. She was like warm honey, her lips soft and sleepy as her mouth opened to welcome his hard invasive tongue.
And he wanted her. Today, tomorrow, and every second of every moment he graced the earth. He wanted her.
It took nothing. Just the moist taste of her tongue and the soft subtlety of her hip under his palm.
He wanted her. Slayer, woman…Buffy.
Without breaking the kiss, he straddled her. Softly spreading her legs, he nudged and slowly pressed himself against her… into her. Deep, deep, deep, the kiss… the possession. Slowly, so slowly enfolded by that hot, wet part of her, so that the root of him was tightly wedged against her soft, inviting cleft. Rocking gently, riding her heat.
So slow…so luscious, the feel of her honey sweet, sleeping, unfurling for him, knowing that he was hard for her and he couldn't wait for her. Taking him into her, letting him fill her and find reprieve from his hunger. His need.
He couldn't honestly say when it had stopped being about blood or violence. He couldn't even pretend it was as simple as lust. Because it was more than the entire sum of his past pleasures and yet at the same time, it was all those things. She fulfilled every hunger, need and base desire he could claim. She had changed them. Made them hers. She had made them…Her.
Even as the urge to take and feed off this purest of gifts was almost overwhelming, his pace remained soft and gentle. His mouth was sweet, like the purest of cream. He rode her soft and smooth, his thick strokes long and leisurely. He did with his body what she would never allow him to do with his heart. He covered her, surrounded her, protected her, and utterly possessed her.
He climaxed on the end of one forceful thrust, on and on and on. A torrent of sensations that finally eddied away into short sputtering spasms that left him weak and utterly spent.
There were thing that could not be forgotten, he thought as he lay there with his head buried in her shoulder. Together, they could be anything.
Spike bolted awake, his body reared up to sit and he winced as various broken bones made themselves known. Running an exhausted hand through his hair, he tried to bury the dream that was still dancing around the edges of his vision. He let his body fall back to the unforgiving solidity of the concrete and closed his eyes. Studiously ignoring the warm touch of the Slayer as she curled against his body. He also took great pains to ignore the fact that he was shifting closer and pulling her tighter against him. Giving himself back to sleep, Spike never noticed the flash of silver light leave his body and pass into hers.
She stalked quietly through the lower chambers. Her mind focused on one thing.
To possess.
To own.
To wrench the ultimate sacrifice from an unwilling body.
Reaching her goal, her gaze shimmered slowly over her waiting victim. He was exactly where she had told him to be. Not a flicker of movement in his frame as he sat perfectly still on the edge of his bed. He was completely unbound by clothes or any other sort of device that sometimes had come into play. His gaze was where she had said it should be. Staring blankly at the wall, not at her.
Never at her.
He knew what she required. What she needed. For the pleasure he was more than willing to endure the pain.
She knelt before him, no words passed her lips. None were needed.
Her knowing, well-taught hands skimmed up the inside of his legs, pushing just this side of violently, making a space for her body. He responded instantly and a slight gleam of triumph lit her features. She loved the feel of him elongating beneath her finger tips, the slight surge of his hips as he silently urged her sensual exploration.
It was not enough.
Not nearly enough. Surrender. His surrender must be total and complete. He had not even come close to where she wanted him.
Her hands enclosed him with a reverence that was completely out of sync with her thoughts. She rubbed his firm, ridged tip against her lips softly, then flicked her tongue against it, wet and light. She was soft as she closed her lips over the tip, softer still as she sucked the most elemental part of him gently into her hot, wet mouth.
She held him and teased him. Swooping her tongue up and down the underside of him, a trail of wet from root to tip. She played him like a well-tuned piano and couldn't stop the tiny moan in the back of her throat as she rolled and flattened her tongue with varying degrees of intensity.
He reached for her then. She wasn't quite sure if it was her actions or the sound she had let creep out. It didn't matter. She was winning. He was wild with the animalistic need she'd forced upon his body. She would not relinquish him. This was not his game. She was the one with the power. Pulling him even tighter into her mouth, she bit down lightly as he moaned and rocked his hips up to ease her way.
She held him there for one long, voluptuous moment, one hand slipping under his body to cup and squeeze.
It was too much for him to take. Even with over a hundred years of experience, she knew it was too much for him. He wanted to move. He wanted to posses. She couldn't let him go.
She moved with him, anticipating every frenzied surge of his body. Her mouth encompassed him, sucking, pulling, biting, utterly possessing. He bucked, he twisted, he pushed at her violently and moaned a lifetime of curses on few short breaths.
She knew he didn't want this. He wanted her, her body, her heat and her flesh.
She felt the battle turn in her favor as he had no choice but to surrender to his body's needs. He betrayed himself. In that one sweet moment, she owned him. Completely.
She scraped his thickness with her teeth, with her tongue. A long erotic sucking motion, driving him towards climax. This was what she needed. His hard, deep shaft, a prisoner against her tongue and her avaricious need to possess.
She heaved with his body, not even for a second letting him escape. He would never get away, not until she was ready to release him. He rolled and pushed and jammed himself up into her, but she stayed with him. Pulling and sucking, driving him to his body's, if not his heart's, completion.
The eruption was hard and tight and she rode it with him for every last thrust and throb until she had wrung every last drop.
Drained him dry.
Still she kept with him, until his body stopped shuddering, his hands fell limply from her hair and he gave his final surrender to sleep.
It was enough. It was her victory in a world where her existence relied on the quota of losses stacked against wins.
She had given nothing and taken everything.
Standing slowly she flipped a sheet over his still figure as a final concession to his defeat at her hands. Without a backward glance she slipped silently out of the room.
Buffy stared blankly at the remains of the roof, battling the need to cry. Rolling her head to the side, she traced the body of the man lying next to her. There were just no words for the injustices he'd faced in the name of love at her hands. Groaning slightly, she pushed herself up to a sitting position and almost tumbled back down.
Sitting cross legged in front of her was one of the most undeniably beautiful creatures she'd ever seen. Buffy's sight was overloaded with silver from long flowing hair, to eyes. Even the shimmering gown was a deep silver.
Blinking a few times to dispel the image, Buffy felt the line of her mouth stiffen as the creature refused to fly back into the realm of her imagination. Instead the vision sat calmly, regarding her with what could only be described as disappointment. Too close on the heels of her guilt-inducing dream Buffy could not deal with the obvious repercussions evident on this creatures face.
Upon closer examination, she discovered the incongruity that ultimately loosened her tongue. This gorgeous, ethereal creature was…eating a pop-tart.
"Who the hell are you?" The words came exploding off her tongue before she had the presence of mind to stop them.
The being calmly brushed the remaining crumbs from her fingers. Settled her hands in her lap, she spared one glance for the still sleeping vampire and smiled at the Slayer.
"Honey. We need to talk."
TBC