A Slayer Lost (10/11: Don't Look Back)
Angelus
See first chapter for disclaimer, etc.
Author's Note: A big thank you goes out to Kathy, for reminding me how long it had been since I'd posted, and for pointing out how abrupt of an ending that was to Chapter 9. But while I'm too lazy to fix that, here's Chapter 10 for your enjoyment. With any luck, I'll be finished with A Slayer Lost and onto part two of Immortal Beloved in a few weeks. Thank you to everyone who's reviewed, those kind words mean alot, and are sometimes the only things that keep me going. But enough from me, I *know* all you want is Spike. 'Cuz, well, who doesn't? And who am I to disappoint? On with the porn.....
~*~
When Buffy awoke, it was as if she was alive for the very first time; all her senses were heightened to the point where she was sure than nothing would ever get by her. Though it was dark out, Spike hadn't bothered to light any candles. It didn't matter, though; she could see every detail as clearly as if it were day.
"Amazing, isn't it?" Spike commented. She nodded, then moved to sit up. His hands flew to her back to support her and help her up. "Easy does it," he warned cautiously. At that, Buffy laughed.
"I'm the Slayer, Spike," she reminded him. "When have I ever taken it easy?" She paused. "OK, *was* the Slayer," she corrected herself. "But whatever." Oddly enough, she felt no remorse at leaving that life behind. It was time to move on now.
With Spike's supportive arm around her waist for balance, Buffy climbed out of the crypt. Spike watched intently as she stretched out first her arms, then her legs, then her waist. All of the sudden, she launched into a backflip without any sort of warning. She landed lightly on her feet, giggling like a little girl.
"Well," she said. "I'm pretty spry for a corpse, huh?"
"Don't bloody do that!" Spike exclaimed. "You nearly gave me a heart attack. Is this what being with you is going to be like? 'Cuz I might just have to - "
Spike's words were cut off by Buffy's mouth pressing forcefully against his. She wasted no time in worming her tongue in between his lips to trace the line of his gums, begging for entry. He obliged, and before he knew what was happening, he was sprawled on his back in the small sarcophagus, his limbs hanging over the edges, with Buffy squirming on top of him.
Spike sucked in a breath.
She was absolutely gorgeous.
"Buffy, luv, if you're hungry, you need to feed," Spike murmured, talking more to himself than to her. There would be plenty of time for...other activities later. "There's no time to teach you to hunt now, we've got to get on the road before one of your friends decides to wander in here. You could always - " Before he could even finish the sentence, she was upon him, her fangs instinctively finding his jugular and biting, the sheet that he had so carefully wrapped around her sliding off to bare her body to him.
Spike groaned. It had been so long since anyone had bitten him, he had almost forgotten how good it felt. He grabbed her and hauled her roughly against his body, her scent consuming him.As he held her, he bent his head and let his tongue seek out the already-healed puncture wounds on Buffy's neck that he himself had made. It was an amazing feeling - even more than it had been when they had simultaneously shared blood last night.
When he felt her growing weak, Spike pulled his fangs out of his lover's neck, and Buffy followed suit. He shifted effortlessly back into his human mask, forehead smoothing and fangs retracting. Glancing over at Buffy, he saw her frowning, her face still vamped out, struggling for control. Shifting from the human mask was simple, he remembered. It was changing back that was the more difficult part.
"Concentrate, ducks," Spike instructed. "Close your eyes. Buffy did so, biting her lip in concentration. After a few silent moments, the change finally took place, and she morphed back into the Buffy he knew and loved. He loved the new Buffy too, of course - how could he not? It was everything he could ever want. But it would take some getting used to. *This* Buffy, on the other hand, was the Buffy that he'd been familiar with for the past six years, whether kissing him or kicking him, spilling out her heart or crushing his.
"That's my girl," he said softly, placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head. For a moment they lay there in silence. For Buffy, this was a new experience, not hearing herself breathe, not feeling her heart beating in her chest.
Only then did it truly sink in: she was no longer human. She was a vampire.
"We should go," Spike murmured reluctantly, not wanting to leave her embrace. Sighing, Buffy sat up, stretching in a decidedly feline manner, the sheet falling to her waist yet again. Spike groaned, unable to resist that body. He jerked her to him again. Buffy smiled, laying a hand on the back of his peroxided head, and he relaxed against her.
As they sat, still as stone, Buffy finally got a chance to experience the superior hearing of the undead. Spike's head jerked up, hearing the sound as well.
"Footsteps," he whispered, even though whoever it was was far out of earshot. Habit, he guessed. He cocked his head to the side, his sensitive ears much more trained than hers after centuries of practice.
"Voices," he informed her. Buffy struggled to make sense of the cacophony of noise in her mind. Squeezing her eyes shut, straining her ears, and concentrating, she was finally able to discern three different voices.
"Dawn," she realized.
"And Anya and Red," Spike finished. His eyes darted around the room until they came to rest on the cement cover of the sarcophagus.
"Lay down," he instructed. Buffy laid down. Using the vampire strength that at times almost seemed to rival her Slayer strength, Spike lifted the lid off of the floor and hauled it on top of them, sliding it into place just as the door to the crypt swung open, banging loudly against the wall.
"Dawnie, I'm sure he took all of his stuff with him," the pair heard Willow say softly. Buffy snuggled closer to Spike in the pitch black and clutched his hand as he she heard her little sister sniff back tears. Not bothering the witch with a reply, Dawn climbed down the manhole ladder. After a moment of hesitation, Willow followed the girl, beckoning for Anya to do the same.
"Shit," Buffy muttered when she was sure they were out of earshot. She looked with her enhanced vision to meet her lover's eyes.
"They'll be gone soon enough," he whispered. "We've just gotta wait it out." Sure enough, a few short moments later, the trio climbed back up the ladder into the upper part of the crypt. When he was positive that none of them were looking, Spike cracked the lid of the sarcophagus less than a quarter of an inch and peeked out. Willow and Anya were engaged in heated conversation, while Dawn looked on, clutching in her hands Spike's leather duster.
"Look, let's just end this now, okay?!" Willow exclaimed. "Buffy's gone, Spike's gone. Period, end of story."
"All I'm saying is, he never would have left without that jacket," Anya pointed out innocently. Willow glared.
"It's time to let this go and move on," she continued, as if Anya hadn't said a thing. "Now, we'll all be seeing each other at the funeral. Let's not spoil the rest of the day by fighting." With that, she stormed out of the crypt. Turning to aim a shrug in Dawn's direction, Anya followed.
Dawn hung back, glancing searchingly about the crypt.
"Spike, I know you're here," the youth said. Buffy inhaled sharply at this.
"And I know you can hear me," Dawn continued. "Anya was right - you wouldn't leave without this." She paused, hugging the worn leather. "I don't know why you're hiding, or why you're still here. And now I'm starting to doubt what you told us about Buffy. But that's okay. Because I love you and I trust you, and I know that you love her. So wherever you are, wherever she is, whatever you're trying to pull, just tell her that I love her, too. I'm not going to go looking for you, and I'm not going to beg you to stay, because it's not what you want. Wherever you are, however, and wherever you go, I hope that you're happy. Both of you."
Dawn strode over to the sarcophagus, her eyes unseeing. Spike slowly lowered the lid to the crypt as Dawn outstretched her arms across it, hugging the stone tomb as if it were a person, tears spilling from her cheeks. Below her, Buffy and Spike clung to one another, wishing they could say something to the Nibblet. Neither of them knew how long they lay there, listening to her cry, but eventually her tears dried and she straightened to gaze at the concrete slab one last time.
"I love you, Buffy," she whispered, her voice breaking. "And Spike, I love you, too. Take care of each other." With that, the teen kissed the palm of her hand, then laid it on top of the crypt, almost as if she knew they were there. Finally, however, she left, shutting the door behind her, leaving the crypt silent once again.
"Oh, Spike," Buffy moaned, her sadness and guilt so intense that they were nearly a physical pain. He wrapped two pale arms around her waist and pulled her as close as he could.
"Oh, kitten." he murmured into her hair. "It'll be allright. I promise you, everything will be allright."
Finally acknowledging fully what she had to look forward to and what she would soon leave behind, Buffy wept.
Angelus
See first chapter for disclaimer, etc.
Author's Note: A big thank you goes out to Kathy, for reminding me how long it had been since I'd posted, and for pointing out how abrupt of an ending that was to Chapter 9. But while I'm too lazy to fix that, here's Chapter 10 for your enjoyment. With any luck, I'll be finished with A Slayer Lost and onto part two of Immortal Beloved in a few weeks. Thank you to everyone who's reviewed, those kind words mean alot, and are sometimes the only things that keep me going. But enough from me, I *know* all you want is Spike. 'Cuz, well, who doesn't? And who am I to disappoint? On with the porn.....
~*~
When Buffy awoke, it was as if she was alive for the very first time; all her senses were heightened to the point where she was sure than nothing would ever get by her. Though it was dark out, Spike hadn't bothered to light any candles. It didn't matter, though; she could see every detail as clearly as if it were day.
"Amazing, isn't it?" Spike commented. She nodded, then moved to sit up. His hands flew to her back to support her and help her up. "Easy does it," he warned cautiously. At that, Buffy laughed.
"I'm the Slayer, Spike," she reminded him. "When have I ever taken it easy?" She paused. "OK, *was* the Slayer," she corrected herself. "But whatever." Oddly enough, she felt no remorse at leaving that life behind. It was time to move on now.
With Spike's supportive arm around her waist for balance, Buffy climbed out of the crypt. Spike watched intently as she stretched out first her arms, then her legs, then her waist. All of the sudden, she launched into a backflip without any sort of warning. She landed lightly on her feet, giggling like a little girl.
"Well," she said. "I'm pretty spry for a corpse, huh?"
"Don't bloody do that!" Spike exclaimed. "You nearly gave me a heart attack. Is this what being with you is going to be like? 'Cuz I might just have to - "
Spike's words were cut off by Buffy's mouth pressing forcefully against his. She wasted no time in worming her tongue in between his lips to trace the line of his gums, begging for entry. He obliged, and before he knew what was happening, he was sprawled on his back in the small sarcophagus, his limbs hanging over the edges, with Buffy squirming on top of him.
Spike sucked in a breath.
She was absolutely gorgeous.
"Buffy, luv, if you're hungry, you need to feed," Spike murmured, talking more to himself than to her. There would be plenty of time for...other activities later. "There's no time to teach you to hunt now, we've got to get on the road before one of your friends decides to wander in here. You could always - " Before he could even finish the sentence, she was upon him, her fangs instinctively finding his jugular and biting, the sheet that he had so carefully wrapped around her sliding off to bare her body to him.
Spike groaned. It had been so long since anyone had bitten him, he had almost forgotten how good it felt. He grabbed her and hauled her roughly against his body, her scent consuming him.As he held her, he bent his head and let his tongue seek out the already-healed puncture wounds on Buffy's neck that he himself had made. It was an amazing feeling - even more than it had been when they had simultaneously shared blood last night.
When he felt her growing weak, Spike pulled his fangs out of his lover's neck, and Buffy followed suit. He shifted effortlessly back into his human mask, forehead smoothing and fangs retracting. Glancing over at Buffy, he saw her frowning, her face still vamped out, struggling for control. Shifting from the human mask was simple, he remembered. It was changing back that was the more difficult part.
"Concentrate, ducks," Spike instructed. "Close your eyes. Buffy did so, biting her lip in concentration. After a few silent moments, the change finally took place, and she morphed back into the Buffy he knew and loved. He loved the new Buffy too, of course - how could he not? It was everything he could ever want. But it would take some getting used to. *This* Buffy, on the other hand, was the Buffy that he'd been familiar with for the past six years, whether kissing him or kicking him, spilling out her heart or crushing his.
"That's my girl," he said softly, placing a gentle kiss on the top of her head. For a moment they lay there in silence. For Buffy, this was a new experience, not hearing herself breathe, not feeling her heart beating in her chest.
Only then did it truly sink in: she was no longer human. She was a vampire.
"We should go," Spike murmured reluctantly, not wanting to leave her embrace. Sighing, Buffy sat up, stretching in a decidedly feline manner, the sheet falling to her waist yet again. Spike groaned, unable to resist that body. He jerked her to him again. Buffy smiled, laying a hand on the back of his peroxided head, and he relaxed against her.
As they sat, still as stone, Buffy finally got a chance to experience the superior hearing of the undead. Spike's head jerked up, hearing the sound as well.
"Footsteps," he whispered, even though whoever it was was far out of earshot. Habit, he guessed. He cocked his head to the side, his sensitive ears much more trained than hers after centuries of practice.
"Voices," he informed her. Buffy struggled to make sense of the cacophony of noise in her mind. Squeezing her eyes shut, straining her ears, and concentrating, she was finally able to discern three different voices.
"Dawn," she realized.
"And Anya and Red," Spike finished. His eyes darted around the room until they came to rest on the cement cover of the sarcophagus.
"Lay down," he instructed. Buffy laid down. Using the vampire strength that at times almost seemed to rival her Slayer strength, Spike lifted the lid off of the floor and hauled it on top of them, sliding it into place just as the door to the crypt swung open, banging loudly against the wall.
"Dawnie, I'm sure he took all of his stuff with him," the pair heard Willow say softly. Buffy snuggled closer to Spike in the pitch black and clutched his hand as he she heard her little sister sniff back tears. Not bothering the witch with a reply, Dawn climbed down the manhole ladder. After a moment of hesitation, Willow followed the girl, beckoning for Anya to do the same.
"Shit," Buffy muttered when she was sure they were out of earshot. She looked with her enhanced vision to meet her lover's eyes.
"They'll be gone soon enough," he whispered. "We've just gotta wait it out." Sure enough, a few short moments later, the trio climbed back up the ladder into the upper part of the crypt. When he was positive that none of them were looking, Spike cracked the lid of the sarcophagus less than a quarter of an inch and peeked out. Willow and Anya were engaged in heated conversation, while Dawn looked on, clutching in her hands Spike's leather duster.
"Look, let's just end this now, okay?!" Willow exclaimed. "Buffy's gone, Spike's gone. Period, end of story."
"All I'm saying is, he never would have left without that jacket," Anya pointed out innocently. Willow glared.
"It's time to let this go and move on," she continued, as if Anya hadn't said a thing. "Now, we'll all be seeing each other at the funeral. Let's not spoil the rest of the day by fighting." With that, she stormed out of the crypt. Turning to aim a shrug in Dawn's direction, Anya followed.
Dawn hung back, glancing searchingly about the crypt.
"Spike, I know you're here," the youth said. Buffy inhaled sharply at this.
"And I know you can hear me," Dawn continued. "Anya was right - you wouldn't leave without this." She paused, hugging the worn leather. "I don't know why you're hiding, or why you're still here. And now I'm starting to doubt what you told us about Buffy. But that's okay. Because I love you and I trust you, and I know that you love her. So wherever you are, wherever she is, whatever you're trying to pull, just tell her that I love her, too. I'm not going to go looking for you, and I'm not going to beg you to stay, because it's not what you want. Wherever you are, however, and wherever you go, I hope that you're happy. Both of you."
Dawn strode over to the sarcophagus, her eyes unseeing. Spike slowly lowered the lid to the crypt as Dawn outstretched her arms across it, hugging the stone tomb as if it were a person, tears spilling from her cheeks. Below her, Buffy and Spike clung to one another, wishing they could say something to the Nibblet. Neither of them knew how long they lay there, listening to her cry, but eventually her tears dried and she straightened to gaze at the concrete slab one last time.
"I love you, Buffy," she whispered, her voice breaking. "And Spike, I love you, too. Take care of each other." With that, the teen kissed the palm of her hand, then laid it on top of the crypt, almost as if she knew they were there. Finally, however, she left, shutting the door behind her, leaving the crypt silent once again.
"Oh, Spike," Buffy moaned, her sadness and guilt so intense that they were nearly a physical pain. He wrapped two pale arms around her waist and pulled her as close as he could.
"Oh, kitten." he murmured into her hair. "It'll be allright. I promise you, everything will be allright."
Finally acknowledging fully what she had to look forward to and what she would soon leave behind, Buffy wept.
