Severed Ties

Chapter 37

The Agony & the Ecstasy

In his hundred plus years of existence, Spike had often heard the cliché of time standing still; that an event was so moving that any cognizant thought of temporal passage was rendered null and void. And as much bravado as the Cockney held, he'd experienced that feeling several times in his existence, the most recent occurrences directly or indirectly caused by his Slayer: the first time he saw her fight outside the Bronze. When she kissed him after saving him from Glory; staring at her broken body as the sun peaked over the horizon, every time he sunk into her core and every time she looked at him with all the love in his heart. There would be other moments, too, for when his daughter was born in a future that had yet to occur, Spike knew with a certainty that bordered in the prophetic that not even Buffy's love would compare to the joy of holding Faith Joyce Summers for the very first time.

If only they were here now.

The vampire in front of him jumped off the sarcophagus and sauntered towards the dazed blonde. The painful erection was beyond his control and the closer she came, the more his lust grew. Her hips swayed hypnotically and her breasts jingled. Spike licked his lips, wanting nothing more than to devour her. She was more than sex; she was everything erotic, everything carnal and Spike knew that if he didn't have her soon he'd burn from the inside out.

When her delicate fingers raked down his chest, Spike hissed. Morrigann laughed and the sound left him weak. It was like nothing else he'd ever heard. He stood motionless as her hands roamed the plains of his chest, grimacing with need when she cupped the bulge between his legs.

"Looks like somebody missed me. Isn't that right, William?" She squeezed enough for it to be uncomfortable to most men but Spike groaned in anticipation. "Oh, you do, don't you? I bet there's plenty of wicked thoughts in that little blonde head of yours."

How joyful it would be to bash her into the concrete floor, he thought. Her assuredness tore at him and he wanted to wipe the smile from her lips. But a larger part of him wanted to take her against the sarcophagus. But his tongue refused to comply with either demand and he settled for "What are you doing here?"

Morrigann laughed and circled him, her hand following a path along his thigh and across his lower back. "I could ask you the same question. Of course," she added and nipped at his earlobe. "I know why you're here."

"What…what did you do to me?"

She was facing him now and batted her eyes but there was no mistaking her to be innocent. "Why would I do something to you, William?" she asked and slid her nails down the side of his face, drawing blood. Temporarily knocked from his daze, Spike grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand from his face.

"I am going to ask you again. What. Did. You. Do. To. Me?" He bit out through clenched teeth and squeezed her wrist with all his unnatural strength. He felt the bone give and Morrigann's face contorted--not in the pain that he'd hoped for--but in annoyance. Her eyes were no longer playful, however, and when he stared into them, he saw the cunning and malice hidden underneath her supple exterior.

"Take your hand off me." Spike grunted but immediately complied. The alluring smile was back on her face but there was a coldness in her eyes that unnerved the bleached blonde. "That's better. So, William…"

"Stop calling me that…"

"Has it felt as long for you as it has for me?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Not bloody long enough if you ask me."

Morrigann chuckled and ice slivered down his back. "Take off your coat." She turned her back, knowing that he would follow her orders and that confidence brassed him off more than anything, aside from his own capitulation. "You have surprised me, William. Two weeks and from what I can tell, you haven't had any sort of…gratification. Not your Slayer, not even a vamp whore…"

Spike raised his eyebrow. "Like yourself?"

Again that laugh that grated on his patience and sanity. "Oh, I am so much more than a whore, my sweet boy, as you will soon find out."

"You wish."

"As much as you try with the bravado, Spike, we both know that you want to fuck me silly. Am I right?"

Though she voiced the question, there was no mistaking her certainty of Spike's answer. Regardless of what he told her, the truth of the matter was that she was right and all the grandstanding in the world wasn't going to change that.

"Well," she said and Spike's mouth dropped open as she stood before him, the barest of negligee covering her more intimate parts but nothing else. How she had changed without his notice disturbed Spike but not as much as his nearly quivering desire to touch her. Even as Buffy's face swam through his consciousness, the pulsating body in front of him was all that was important.

"Did you hear me?" Morrigann whispered and this time Spike didn't flinch when her hands roamed his body. "I asked if you know why you're here."

Not trusting his voice, Spike shook his head.

"Well, lover," she said and grabbed his hand, pulling him further into the crypt. "It's about time you found out."

For the first time since arriving Spike realized that the door leading to the lower level was open. Candlelight flickered from the underground cavern and when Morrigann descended the ladder, Spike had no doubt about where she was leading him. Worse, he knew he'd follow and that, after tonight, he and Buffy were done. He hated himself for not being strong enough to reject the bitch's advancements and what this would do to Buffy. He cursed himself and this bitch the entire time she undressed him, refused her kisses as she laid him on the bed, but when she sunk onto him for the first time, all thoughts turned from his self-loathing to the undeniable pleasure her body gave him.

"Fuck me," Morrigann purred and Spike felt her walls close around him. Her body trembled and she fell on his chest, though her lower body continued its ministrations. Only during this brief hiatus could he focus on anything outside of the two of them and when he did, traces of vanilla prickled his nostrils and he had the distinct feeling that he was being watched.

"Ready for round two, lover?" Morrigann said and started more insistent undulations. Spike fell into rhythm and everything else fell away.

Even the silent sobs that sounded in the shadows.

*****

It had been almost an hour since they left and Dawn was becoming antsy. She glanced around the empty room; Xander and Faith were in the kitchen, 'guarding' the back door, leaving the front to her. She wanted to call someone, well, a certain someone but it was too late; CJ was probably sleeping. Or at least he should be, she thought and stared at the phone in her hand.

"What's going on, baby?" she whispered to the empty room as her thoughts focused on the young man. Though the two of them had spent a few hours a day with one another since the incident with Jay, Dawn couldn't help but think that CJ was keeping something from her. He'd doze off in the middle of conversations and she was able to startle him without trying. The bags under his eyes hinted that he wasn't sleeping but whenever she asked him about it, not to mention the far away look he had anytime Jay's name was brought up. Whenever she asked him about it, he answered her with a kiss and she'd forget everything but his lips and the way his body felt under her fingertips…

"Get a grip, Dawn," she said and started to pace the room. There was too much going on for her to be lost in the wonderful world of fantasy and teenage hormones. So what her boyfriend's body was like a Michelangelo sculpture or that his kisses sent delicious shivers of need through her veins. So what that when he was with her, when he held her, she felt more complete than she had after the Enjoining. Or that she thought about taking their relationship to the next level and the accompanying visuals didn't make her gag. She was growing up and the prospect of it all was more than a little scary. Almost as scary as the upcoming war.

Dawn rubbed her eyes; this was no everyday event. From what everyone was saying, what she felt, this was worse than anything they'd ever faced--even Glory.

The dark-haired teen walked to the mirror in the hallway and rubbed her sleep-deprived eyes. Faith and Xander were still in the kitchen, comforting one another. Although Faith's laugh was strained, at least the slayer had someone there with her. If only CJ could be here and Dawn wouldn't feel so alone.

A sharp knock followed by the chime of the doorbell broke the teen's wandering thoughts. Before she could think, she rushed to the foyer, calling Xander's name on the way. Although her instincts told her that this was something positive for them, she still waited until Xander and Faith's footsteps sounded behind her.

"Wait a minute, Dawnie," Xander said and drew a curved blade from somewhere behind him. "We don't know who it is."

"Well," Faith said and grabbed the door handle. "Only one way to find out." Xander tried to stop her but the door was open before he could do anything.

Dawn flinched when the door banged open but when her eyes fell onto the figure on the steps, her heart jumped and her first instinct was to rush into his arms. But when her attention feel to the second figure he held in his arms, she frowned.

"CJ," Dawn whispered. "What's going on?"

The young man gave her a crooked smile and nodded towards the woman next to him. "Guys, meet Fred." When Xander started to say something, CJ waved his hand to silence the other man. "Just help me get her inside. I have a feeling you'll want to hear just what the hell's going on."

*****

Angel stared out the window, his mind lost to the whirring of emotions inside him. Cordelia had drifted off to sleep about an hour ago. She had held him for as long as she could, his rock, until the strain had been too much and the tears had broken through her stoic veneer. Her tears had been of things never said, a love for her friends never shared to the extent of what she felt for them. Regret for not making things right with Wes. She'd spilled it all, everything she was feeling…everything Angel couldn't say. Oh, he could say it, he had the ability but not the courage. Admitting aloud the loss would take something away from him. He would risk losing the edge he maintained as Champion.

"Sounds like the coward's way out, if you ask me," the Cockney voice sounded in his head. "Of course, you were never what I'd call brave, Angelus." His first instinct was to deny the accusation but how could he? As much as he hated to admit it, Spike was right. Angelus had always been the 'selfish git', out for himself and himself only. How was what Angel did any different? Yeah, he may not have killed and tortured but he was that same selfish creature underneath it all. Distancing himself from others emotionally, kicking Spike when he was down, always feeling as if he knew best--it was the mark of someone that didn't want to get close, didn't want to accept what he was.

He'd had the soul for a hundred years and never in that time had he felt like he belonged. Oh, he was never alone; the faces that visited him nearly every night assured that. But he was never close to anyone. Even when he and Buffy were together, he always kept his distance and this had been before he knew he could lose the soul. But why? Why did he keep the young girl so in love with him away from his heart? Why did he make sure his friends never got too close? Why did he resent Spike so much? So many possibilities but, in truth, the answer was simple: he was scared.

Angel tried to rationalize it, tried to give himself an excuse, but he couldn't. He was afraid of opening up because he didn't know how. He knew the pain others went through when someone they loved hurt them. Even after all these years, the look in Buffy's eyes when he told her he was leaving haunted him, warned him, in fact, that getting close could only get you hurt.

"You're right," he whispered to the night, "I am a bloody coward."

"Do we really have to go over this again?" Angel jumped and turned to see Cordelia staring at him through tired, bloodshot eyes.

"Cordy," he said and closed the distance between them. He kneeled beside the bed and brushed his fingers across her tear-stained face. "How are you feeling?"

She chuckled humorlessly. "Like I've been crying for the past two hours." She waved him off when he started to say something. "But it doesn't matter. What does is you're starting that bullshit again."

"Cordy, you don't understand…"

"No, Angel, you don't understand," she yelled. When he leaned away from her, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"Well, then how did you mean it?" he asked, unable to conceal the bitterness clogging his throat.

"Why do you do this to yourself, Angel?" She took his hands in hers. "Why do you always think the worst of yourself?"

Her eyes implored him for an answer and, when he couldn't find one Angel did what he did best. He turned away.

"No," she said and grabbed his chin, "you look at me. You're always trying to run away, always trying to play the stoic hero who can't get to close and then end up blaming yourself when shit hits the fan. I already told you, baby, you're a good man. Just like everyone, you make mistakes, you get hurt. That shouldn't stop you from taking chances."

They stared at each other for several minutes, words measured by inhalations and blinking eyelids. The longer he looked into her eyes, the more he wanted--no--needed her. Not just to hold, not just to kiss but to consume her, to fall into her and be lost in the sweet scent of her love…

Before he could think, Angel was upon her. His lips assaulted hers with a renewed vigor as his hands roamed the plains of her willing body. His shirt was gone within seconds and hers soon followed. He groaned at the warmth of her flesh against him and he didn't fight when her eager hands pried his pants from his hips. His senses returned only when the heat of her core thrummed against his erection.

"Cordy," he started but she silenced him with a kiss.

"It will be okay, baby, trust me."

"But the soul…"

She smiled and something arose inside of him and Angel knew that, somehow it would be all right.

Buzz…

"What was that?" she whispered and the vampire shook his head.

"Doesn't matter…"

Buzz…

Cordelia groaned as Angel's hands slid along the inside of her thigh. "It's…it's the phone," she murmured. "It might be important."

He was so close, so close to finding home within her only to be interrupted. If the circumstances were different, he would've ignored it, but she was right. There was too much going on to get lost in the pleasures of one another and forget the events playing out in front of them.

Angel rolled over to the other side of the bed, disregarding the ache that the absence of her touch caused. He fumbled with the phone for several seconds before clicking it open.

"Hello?" he said and glanced over at Cordelia. She giggled at his annoyance and her fingers slid up and down his arm. Her ministrations lasted only a few seconds before he forgot about her touch. He listened to the voice on the other end and his jaw dropped.

"Angel?" Cordelia asked and scooted over to him.

"Yeah," he said into the phone, "we'll be right there." Turning the phone off, the brunette pulled his woman into his arms and kissed her on the forehead before gathering his clothes.

"What is it?" Cordelia asked and slid into her clothes as well. He didn't answer her for several minutes. Grabbing the keys from the nightstand, Angel glanced at Cordy, his eyes watery, and gave her a tremulous smile.

"That was Faith. It's Fred…they found her."

*****

She had no idea how long she stood there, watching. Every part of his body she'd memorized in the past year was traced with her fingertips. Buffy watched as his hands slid along her thighs, how his lips closed over the nipple of her ample breast. She called his name over and over, spewing a litany of vulgar words that increased his tempo. The slapping of flesh muted the harsh sounds of breathing that echoed through the lower level.

"Fuck me, baby, fuck me," the woman growled and sliced open Spike's chest with her nails. Buffy's stomach lurched when the woman's tongue lapped up the blood. God how she wanted to look away but her eyes refused to comply. She took in every detail; the way they moved as one, the transitions they made between positions, though she always finished on top. It was as if they were made for one another and that thought was enough to topple her shock.

Buffy let out a choked sob, biting her fist to remain silent. The tears burned a path down her face and the Slayer fell into the corner, crying into the cool wall of the crypt. She was vaguely aware of the continued resonance of sex not ten feet from her. Spike's breathing had intensified, grunts accompanying each thrust. He was close. She beat him, however and Buffy tried to shut out the sounds of the other woman screaming his name. He wasn't far behind--his animalistic growl preceded the name of a woman by mere seconds. She didn't know how long she sat there, face buried in her hands, before she gathered the strength to stand. Her legs shook but she maintained her balance. In the distance, she thought she heard him call her name but refused to turn around.

Buffy climbed the steps with mechanical torpor. Her heels clicked against the crypt floor and when she closed the door behind her, Buffy shivered. The ensuing click was like the final trumpet's call in a life she thought was going to be hers.

"No more," she whispered to the night. The words she spoke held conviction but what her pledge was against, she wasn't even sure. But one thing she did know what that the future she'd seen herself having with Spike had shriveled into nothing. She was no longer concerned with the love and companionship he had provided her. She couldn't be. If she didn't move ahead immediately, she never would, the pain was that sharp.

"Mum!" Jay shouted and appeared in front of Buffy. The Slayer smiled at her daughter. "Are you okay? Did you find Daddy?"

Buffy's smile faded but she drew her daughter in her arms. "Nothing's wrong, sweetie," she said. "Nothing at all."

The two women disengaged from the embrace and Jay's eyes studied Buffy with an intensity held by only one other person. "What about Daddy?"

"Yeah," Buffy said, "he's in there. But he's…resting now. We can come back later."

They walked away from the crypt though Jay looked back several times before glancing at her mother. "Are you sure everything's okay with you guys?"

"It's fine, baby," she replied. "Everything's just fine." Inside Buffy was screaming despite the effort to remain numb. Nothing was fine about it. And she doubted anything ever would be.

TBC in After Shock