Severed Ties

Chapter 32

Connections

She stared at the woman next to her, the curtain of red hiding her elfish features; the small, pointy nose, thin pouty lips; and the alabaster skin that was dotted with the tiniest freckles. Even with that, the most powerful of Willow Rosenberg's features--those wide, bright green eyes--were hidden from view behind coltish eyelashes.

"You're so beautiful," Tara whispered and kissed the crown of her lover's head. Those same eyelashes trembled before they fluttered open.

"Hey, sweetie," she said and rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes.

"I'm sorry," Tara said. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Willow shrugged. "It's okay. Not like I was yet into that third level of REM sleep. I was on like two and a half. Mr. Sandman was throwing his little sprinklies at me? Do I have any sprinkly dust in my eyes, cause, well, that's not too sexy."

"Wills," Tara said and his her smile behind a kiss on Willow's lips. "You're babbling."

"I tend to do that, you know…"

"I know…"

"When I'm excited or scared or frustrated…or, or mad…or…"

"Tired?"

Willow smiled and scooted closer towards her lover. "That too." Tara's arm pulled Willow firmly against her chest and she twirled the short strands of red hair between nimble fingers.

"Tara?" Willow murmured and Tara knew that she was close to sleep again.

"Yeah, sweetie?"

"Do you think Buffy's gonna be okay?"

The urge to blurt out a positive affirmation died before she could formulate the words. What Buffy and Spike were going through was something that all couples faced--that first horrible, dirty fight. Spike and Buffy had fought during the majority of their tumultuous relationship--either with words or fists, often both--but to fight when both parties had mutually admitted their love for the other was very different. And when one party was primarily to blame, or so it seemed, well, that just made things even worse.

"I wish I knew, honey," she whispered and nuzzled her face into Willow's hair. "They just need to talk."

"She really loves him."

"Yeah, I know."

"More than Riley," Willow said and yawned, "even more than Angel."

"Yeah," Tara agreed, "I know."

"And, and they just found each other; they can't be over."

Tara smoothed the back of Willow's hair down. "I know, baby, but whatever we feel, it's up to them to make it work."

"Like us?" Tara felt Willow's arm tighten around her waist. She smiled at her lover's embrace and returned the hug.

"Yeah, like us."

"I love you, Tara. You're so strong, like an Amazon."

The blonde Wicca smiled and kissed Willow on the top of her head. "I love you, too, baby," she said but the even breathing that brushed across the top of her chest told Tara that Willow was already asleep.

Tara lay there, stroking Willow's hair, and thought about Buffy and Spike. They had been through so much, most of which Tara hadn't been around for but she had seen the attraction between the slayer and vampire from the start. The others didn't and the two aforementioned parties sure as heck weren't privy to their own emotions; they hid behind sharp words and fists but there were times--like the entire Glory episode--where they were just Spike and Buffy, not slayer and vampire. Those little moments she saw had tamed the surprise when Buffy confessed her affair with Spike. Even as tears coursed down the slayer's face, Tara knew that Buffy loved him. The problem was that she hated herself too much to see the goodness in Spike and both had spiraled into that melancholic abyss. Jay's arrival had broken both bottled blondes from their moods and Tara could not help but think that the young woman had prevented something bad from happening between the two that would become her parents.

Deciding that her thoughts would only intensify as the night wore on, Tara cleared her mind and allowed sleep to claim her but before she dropped off into the comfortable peace, a piercing wail sliced through the tranquility of the room and Tara's heart stopped for a single second.

"What was that?" Willow shouted, and jumped up from the bed. The redhead slipped into a pair of shoes and opened the door.

"I…I don't know," Tara said and followed her girlfriend out into the hallway. She saw Buffy dart in front of them and down the stairs. Tara mentally recited an incantation and had the words ready to spill from her lips should the need arise. But when she reached the first floor and peered over Willow's shoulders, she lost all focus.

She was vaguely aware of Buffy holding a bleeding Jay in her arms but her attention was on the young man splayed out on the porch. His eyes were glazed over and blood covered his lips. Tara paid that no attention because her gaze was fixed on the stake that protruded from his chest.

~~~

"How are you feeling, Pumpkin?" Hank Summers asked and Buffy sighed into the phone.

"Okay, I guess. The last few weeks have been…"

"Stressing, I know. Just like I know that I'm a big part of that stress you're feeling."

Buffy opened her mouth to protest but he was right. She'd had enough to deal with before dear old dad had swept in, ready to carry Dawn off. His arrival had sparked the discord between her and Spike that had erupted into something much more than a disagreement.

I do not want to think about that, she thought and focused her attention back to her father. Although she had been depressed with Spike's unfaithfulness, when her father had rescinded his demand of taking Dawn away, she had been floored. Still, this had been the first time they were able to talk about anything.

"But not anymore," he said. "From now on, I'm gonna do my best for my two girls." He was obviously expecting her to say something but Buffy refused to allow the hope of reconciling with her father to gain too much ground. After all, how many promises had he made and broken without a second thought or a first phone call?

Hank sighed on the other end and said, "I know you have no reason to believe me, Buffy, but I promise you that I will try to make everything up to you and Dawnie as best I can."

"I want to believe you," she admitted, "but how can I ignore your other broken promises?"

"You can't sweetheart. And I can't ask you to do that, either. All I can do is hope that you give me a chance and I will try my best not to disappointment. I owe you and Dawnie so much…"

Their conversation continued for the better part of an hour. Buffy told him about her friends, about Spike and her father had listened. Not only that, but he had showed interest, offering advice when she was stuck with something. By the time they were winding down, Buffy had a smile on her face for the first time in what felt like weeks.

After hanging up at Dad's insistence on her getting some rest, Buffy lay in bed with Mr. Gordo tucked underneath her arm. She stared at the ceiling, her mind dancing around the dominant topic of non-conversation between her and the gang. It had been--what, four days? --since she'd seen him and her body ached from his absence. No, it wasn't just being away from him that hurt but the circumstances around their separation. And the longer it was the more she missed him and the more she missed him, well, the more she thought herself a butt-head.

But what did she have to feel bad about? He was the one rubbing tongue with some uber whore in the middle of the Bronze. He should've come crawling back to her, damn it, not playing the poor little Spike with his hurt feelings. No-sirree-bob.

You ran after Riley, a traitorous voice whispered and Buffy tried to bat it away. It dodged her unwavering desire to silence it and crept into her ear. And getting sucked by some vamps--on multiple occasions, no less--and you still galloped after that helicopter as if the devil was behind you.

"Shut up," she spat and threw her face into the pillow, screaming her frustration. Everything was getting to her now. They still hadn't run into the three demons from last week and Xander's familiarity with the Frost guy was moot since his pie hole was clammed up more than he'd been at her birthday parties when he could barely breathe past the cake stuffed down his throat. She hadn't seen much of him this past week, either and when he was around, he and Faith was pretty much joined at the lips, hips, wrists and another other body part that ended in an 's' and probably some parts that weren't.

"Okay, Buffy, so did not need to go there." She was happy for the two of them (a tingle of delight shimmied up her spine at the developing friendship between her and Faith) but Xander's lack of cooperation in certain things truly irked the blonde slayer. Not only that but he was distant when anyone asked him about his newfound powers. And then there was his relationship with Jay. Of course, with her disappearing acts lately, Buffy didn't really have to worry about the eggshell syndrome between one Mr. Harris and her daughter but to know it was there still…

Buffy sighed and uncovered her face. She fought past the lump in her throat and bit her lip to stave off the tears. She just didn't know what to do with Jay, and while everyone else was also at a loss, she was the mother. But my daughter's older than me; why would she listen to someone who's pretty much her little sister? The 'sister' lament was an excuse and Buffy knew it. After Jay had gotten over the mucho disdain with her, she'd looked at Buffy just like the Summers' girls' had looked to Joyce--with respect and a tinge of awe that could never be explained with words. But now, when Jay even bothered to look at her, Buffy was struck with the feeling that Jay blamed her for Spike's infidelity.

Over exaggerate much? Yeah, Spike may have groped and tongue fuc…screwed the biatch, but it wasn't as if she'd caught them going at it like naughty bunnies on a desk or, worse, in his bed.

She ignored the déjà vu that accompanied that thought and put her mind to the problems (plural) that were weaving and tearing their way through her world.

"At least me and Dad are getting somewhere." That was the only thing that was going right. Hank Summers, in the span of about forty-eight hours, had become a new man. She had a feeling that a certain friend of hers whose name began with an 'A' and ended with an 'ngel' had something to do with it but she wouldn't complain, at least for now. Angel may have intimidated him but dear old Dad's sincerity rang true enough for her. She wouldn't expect too much but she couldn't just lose hope because if she did, what would be the use of being here?

"I won't give up, baby," she said and her mind pictured the cerulean eyes and chiseled jaw of the vampire that possessed her heart. She had a right to be pissed at Spike; but exiling him like this? "God, I'm an idiot," Buffy murmured and tossed the covers aside. She had to see him. They needed to talk and since she'd pushed him away when he had come clean, it was up to her to break the ice this time.

She'd just finished slipping on her tennis shoes when the scream pierced the air. Her hand instinctively pulled the dagger from under her pillow and Buffy was down the steps before she could register the voice. She flung open the door and hesitated when she saw Jay hovering over…was that CJ?

"Oh my god," she whispered and when she saw the glint of steel in Jay's hand, Buffy tackled her daughter from behind.

"It'shimit'shimit'shim!" Jay shouted, her eyes wide with terror. Buffy held the struggling woman and after a brief resistance, Jay dissolved into a fit of tears. Buffy didn't care that her daughter's fingernails were digging into her flesh or drawing blood. And she didn't pay attention to the body in front of her or Tara and Willow's arrival on the scene.

All she could think about was the frightened little girl in her arms, crying 'MummyMummyMummy'. Any questions regarding her competence as a mother faded and Buffy allowed her instincts to take over.

When she whispered her love for the young woman in her arms and was answered by Jay squeezing her tighter, Buffy knew that everything between them was going to be okay.

Buffy just hoped everyone else would be as lucky as she felt.

~~~

"Are you insane?" Frost growled and flung the succubus against the wall. Her head smacked against the brick but Morrigann only smiled, the blood from the mortal still coating her lips.

"Whatever do you mean, Frost?" she asked, her features innocent yet her eyes held a hunger that frightened the warrior. He took a step back and his hand found the hilt of his sword. Morrigann glanced down at the weapon and grinned, her incisors jutting past her supple bottom lip. "I don't know why you're grandstanding, oh White Warrior you, you ain't gonna use it. You know better."

Frost swallowed a curse and forced himself to relax. Oh, he very well knew that were any harm to come to the succubus slut that Gabriel would have his insides splayed for all to see--he'd told Frost that much before their departure. Still, Gabriel had also made it clear that, although Morrigann was to be taken care of, she was not to step over the boundaries Gabriel had set.

Taking a bite out of the reincarnated body of Seth definitely fell into that category.

"You were not to harm him," Frost said, his voice dropping down to its natural calm.

"Was I the one that snapped his arm over my knee?" She was touching him now; her sex grating against his upper thigh and Frost stifled a moan just as his erection made itself known. Without taking her gaze from his crystalline eyes, Morrigann's hands kneaded the bulge in his pants. "Was I the one that threw him into that tree? Shattered a few ribs with a kick?" Her tongue flicked out and caressed the shell of his right ear. When she spoke again, her heated breath--a copper scent of blood and something desirous that Frost couldn't name--slithered across the exposed flesh of his neck. "No, Frosty, that was you."

It took all his considerable willpower to push her away and stalk to the other side of the room. He'd once prided himself on resisting the succubus's ardor; something that not even Gabriel had been able to do. Of course he'd never taken his chances in being near her. A warrior of his caliber shunned all things that were potential interference in his quest to become the greatest of his kind. Physical pleasures not associated with combat were included in that. And though his strength of mind was great, he knew of no one that could ignore the call of the succubus when she wanted them. Two weeks living under the same roof with one had shown him that. The things she'd made the two brothers do to the humans they'd captured were unseemly. Torture and rape were two acts he had no tolerance for but had to accept that his three associates were more than partial to such atrocities.

"You remember what our Master said. Except for the vampire, we were not to sample them in any way save for non lethal combat."

Morrigann shrugged and started pulling off her clothes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Not like he's gonna punish me." She turned golden eyes towards him and for a brief moment, Frost could think of nothing more than throwing her to the floor and slamming his engorged cock into her until she screamed for mercy. Thankfully she turned from him and he righted himself again. "Of course," she said--now she was completely naked--and laid on the bed, "if he does punish me, I'm sure I'll enjoy it…after awhile."

Frost turned his eyes from her self-stimulation and the moans that accompanied it. He left the room and his mind scrambled for something to concentrate on, anything besides the painful ache that resounded in his belly.

I need to find a worthy opponent, he thought and snatched his white cloak from its position on the mantle. He remembered sensing a horde of Fyarls on the further reaches of town a few days ago; they would suffice.

He strode through the mansion, ignoring the twins that alternated between torturing some helpless mortal and laughing at some inane show in television. As he made his way through the night, all was forgotten save for two things: the anticipatory bloodlust that accompanied him, ready for the fight…and the sweet scent of Morrigann's arousal.

The former would be sated by night's end and he vowed that the latter would be banished from his mind at the onset of bloodshed.

Somehow he knew that vow would not be met.

~~~

Pain radiated through his body and though it had not yet approached the purple beast's touch a few weeks before, he knew that he was in more trouble tonight.

He drug himself through the streets, his mind focused on the young woman that never left his thoughts since they had met. He stumbled several times and bit back a cry each time his arm brushed against a fence or the concrete. There was no doubt that it was broken, and in several places, but it wouldn't stop him from reaching her.

Her.

His mind focused on her; the sigh that escaped those puckered lips when he touched her in a certain way, the wide-eyed expression whenever he walked towards her. She trembled when he reached for her and whimpered when his fingertips trailed down her back, when he teased the flesh just above her waistline with deft precision. If he could only reach her, he would be whole.

When he reached his destination, a wane smile tinted his haggard face and he stumbled up to the door. He used the threshold to prop himself up and it took all his strength to raise a hand towards the doorbell. It was not necessary.

The door was thrown open and he looked up anxiously. Even before his eyes took in her familiar form, the fragrance of her--the power, the femininity, the stolen innocence--it was a fruit for his senses. But the overwhelming scent of her fear when their eyes locked nearly crippled him and in that moment his appetite for her was so vociferous that nine years could not satiate his need.

He licked his lips and it was then that she screamed. The distraction was enough for his light to shine through and he whispered to her…

"Jay…" As the name spilled from his lips she was on him. Her fists struck face and chest and ribs, damaging him even further. He used his good arm to deflect most of the blows aimed at his face but she pounded his body with a brutal intensity until his arm fell to the ground. When their eyes met, she hesitated and the darker part of him, the part that remembered the taste of her blood struck.

With a strength he could not have possessed, he sat up, grasping her around the waist. Before she could fight, he sank his teeth into the exposed flesh of her neck. The world fell away then, the exotic flavor of her blood arresting any other conceivable stimulation. His hand trailed down the expanse of her back and for one moment, she too, succumbed to the building desire. That moment was broken almost immediately and his mouth opened in a wordless scream when the stake penetrated his chest. His head cracked against the pavement and even as darkness began to overtake him and he saw the glint of metal in her hand, the sight of those wild cerulean green orbs terrified him. Not because he saw the dagger ready to slit his throat, but because he knew with an unquestioning certainty that, this time, she would fight back…

~~~

The fear choked her and she couldn't have told anyone how she breathed much less screamed. All she knew was that when his tongue darted out and those eyes widened with desire something in her rebelled. Without a thought, Jay pounced and her fists rained down upon his stunned form. She didn't care what he looked like now, all she needed to see were those eyes; those eyes that had raked across her naked flesh, had smiled at her when she begged him to stop. She ignored the tenderness she remembered when he thought she had passed out and her own perverted need for him to touch her, to talk to her. She focused on the pain and humiliation and when her mind replayed that first time, when he had plowed through her innocence, she screamed. It was not from fear but from a deeply rooted rage that could only be quenched by his death. Still, when his hand fell away from his face and she looked into the eyes, something was different. It was him, but it wasn't. It was as if…

Her hesitation cost her. Before she knew what was happening, his arm wrapped around her waist and he pulled her to his chest. Her face crumpled into a wordless scream when his teeth broke through her flesh. There were no sharp fangs to ease the infiltration but her blood flowed just the same. Splinters from where she gripped the stake dug into her palm but the pain was secondary to the unwanted need that pulsed through her veins. Her head bobbed to the rhythm of his sucking and Jay's lower body began to rock with his swallows. His fingers played a familiar tune along the jut of her spine and for a brief moment Jay allowed the contentment to wash over her. But when she remembered the atrocities he delivered against her, the spell was broken and she drove the stake into his chest.

When he didn't dust, she glanced down and saw that she had missed the heart. Pulling the dagger from its sheathe attached to her belt, she resolved to cut the bastard's head off. She ignored the thought that something was different about him and readied her task but when she raised the dagger into the air, something slammed into her from behind, propelling the air from her lungs. Strong arms twisted their way around her and she fought; nothing could stop her from finishing this. He was responsible for her scars, emotional and physical and he had to…"It'shim!" she shouted, trying to twist away. "It's him!It's him!It's him!"

When Jay heard the voice of her mother and her arms around Jay, everything fell away. She glanced over at the body with the stake protruding from its chest and recognized CJ's still form. Her mind replayed the images of what she had done, splicing together scenes of her torture at the hands of Seth. When the face of Spike, her Daddy, interspersed with the other pictures, her strength trickled from her body.

"Oh god, what did I do? What did I do?" She couldn't control the shivers that wracked her petite frame and she could only guess that her Mum's strength prevented her from flying apart, shattering and dissolving into an unrecognizable mist of tortured emotions.

"It's okay, sweetie," her mother cooed in her ear, "Mommy's here, Mommy's here. I'm not gonna leave you, baby, I'm gonna be right here for you, luv."

The sound of her father's endearment tore the final strand of her nerves from their moorings and Jay's mind was lost in cacophonous pleas for her mother.

TBC in….Stitches in Time