Good evening, All!
Well, I managed to get another chapter out on time. I'm thankful to real life for giving me a respite.
The chapter is still angsty, but I think you'll find comfort in it, as will Spike and Buffy. There are two versions of this chapter – a PG-13, which is the ff.net and regular list versions, and an NC-17, which is only on Vamp Sundae.
The bad news – it is unlikely, although not impossible, that there will be a MtB chapter next week. The good news is that I'm writing 2 smutty birthday fics this week for two of our fabulous list members and, if they are nice and want to share, I can post them instead.
I hope you like this chapter, and really, feedback means the world to me. Even if it's just a sentence.
Thanks for reading!
In Kindness, Nimue "Though beauty is rare enough
Still we trust
Somehow we'll find it there
With no guarantee
It seems to me
At least it should be fair" - Allison Krauss - That Kind of Love
www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/ AlwaysEveryday (at) yahoogroups.com HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) yahoogroups.com
Title: Hurricanes (Chapter Thirty - Meant to Be)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)
Feedback: Yes, please
Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::
Summary: Buffy arrives and Spike cannot handle what has happened. It's in her hands now.
WARNING: MAJOR ANGST. I can't tell you what, but read at your own risk. I felt it necessary and organic to the story, so please try and understand and try not to hate me.
Hurricanes
He sat as still as a statue, a half empty glass of thick, amber fluid balanced in his hand, as the door clicked closed behind her. There was no movement when she took a step toward him; just the glassy stillness of a frozen pond with a hurricane raging beneath.
This was not good.
Another step and the hurricane broke through the battlements that she hadn't even known she'd erected in her mind. Torrents crashed down on her with tsunami force. Loss and lost and fear and loathing and, most of all, grief. Buffy shuddered, gooseflesh trailing up her spine, and took one more step.
This time, he turned his head and looked.
And the hurricane floods poured from the stormy blue eyes of a little lost boy.
Gone. Gone. Gone.
Soft voices.
Open door. Shut door.
Click.
Pause.
Click.
Pause.
Click.
Her.
My girl. My girl. My girl.
Please help me.
Please.
She crossed the remaining distance between them in the blink of an eye as he reached for her. He fell forward, glass shattering on the hard wood floor, his knees hitting the ground with a thump and a crunch.
Buffy skidded in front of him, falling, dropping down in broken glass and spilled liquor, reaching to him. Trying to stop the floods. Staunch the bleeding.
Before she could even touch him, he grabbed at her desperately, gathering her to him, holding so tightly she had to wriggle in order to get the heavy splint out of the death grip. Tears rained in her hair as strong fingers dug into her back, grasping for purchase to stop from sliding.
Sliding.
Falling.
"Buffy," he moaned, his voice a pained whisper as kisses rained on top of tears. His voice hurt to use, to hear, but he needed her – wanted her to know that he understood it was her. Give her the chance to sit this one out. Let her bow out of comforting him in his grief over the only love that had mattered before her.
But she didn't shy away. She pulled her head back just enough to angle her face toward his, locking stormy blue in watery jade. "I'm here, Spike," she soothed. "I won't ever leave, okay?"
He nodded, his hands finding her face, drinking in her warmth. Trying to belong.
Belong.
Belong.
"Mine," Spike growled, his grief-torn face flashing from Human to Vampire and back again as if the energy of holding either mask was too much to maintain.
Buffy swallowed, closing her eyes. "Yours," she answered, tilting her head and exposing a golden expanse of neck to his needy face.
Sobs wracked him, choking off his breath, as she lay open and trusting before him. He leaned forward, Vampire mask to the fore, scenting, smelling, feeling her pulse.
The pulse of their child.
He didn't want to be a Vampire.
Not tonight.
Not with her ashes still clinging to his skin.
Spike's hands took hold of her face and leveled her eyes with his. She blinked, looking up at him as he stared at her, so warm and human and full of life. "Mine," he choked out, his lips finding hers with hurricane force, but his body loosening in the familiar safety of her embrace. "Mineminemineminemineminemine."
"Yours."
He lifted her, lips and tongue still searching, tasting, finding, and carried her towards the bathroom. Have to be clean for her. Have to be good for her.
Have to wash it away.
Wash away the sin.
Need her. Need her.
Spike brought his mind under control enough to set her gently to the tile floor, one hand tangled in her hair, the other fingering the hem of her shirt with restless, desperate, fingers.
"Please, Buffy," he whimpered. "Need you."
She smiled softly, touching his face. Feeling the chalky paste of dust and tears. "Might need a little help," she answered, pulling her braced arm away from her body and into his line of sight.
"Don't want to hurt you," he whispered, his face breaking in torment. "Never hurt you. Never lose you."
Buffy took his hand and placed it on her shoulder where the strap of her sling crossed golden skin. "It's okay, baby," she soothed, urging him to lift it from her. As she felt the strap move up, she ducked under, speaking to him softly all the while.
"You won't hurt me, Spike. You'll never hurt me. I love you. I need you."
His tears fell in large, heavy drops as his lips met hers in desperation, one hand dropping the sling to the ground, the other delicately holding her arm until he could rest it at her side.
"Hurt because of me. Dead because of me," he muttered, fingers circling her waist to the button of her jeans, undressing her with a gentleness in direct counterpoint to the hunger in his eyes. The need in his kiss.
"Alive again because of you," she answered, stepping out of her jeans, feeling her own tears fall as he worked off her tank top with the gentleness of a thousand millennia of love.
"Gone." His voice was broken as he stared at her with lost eyes, trying to find her warmth. Trying to drink it from her like brandy.
"Here," Buffy replied, placing his hand on her cheek and then reaching down to tug his shirt from his jeans. She swallowed, watching his heartbreak in his eyes as he took over, exposing a body so beautiful and unblemished that it was almost impossible to imagine the wreckage that lay beneath. "She's home now," Buffy continued softly, so softly, as Spike stepped from his dusty jeans.
He stopped, hearing her words, as he leaned forward to run the bath. His eyes squeezed shut, but tears still escaped and his body trembled in fear and anguish and loss. She leaned forward, turning on the taps and then taking his hand and leading him to the basin as warm water filled the tub.
Silently, she wet a cloth, raising it to his face. Spike flinched as she neared him. He wanted to clean away the horror and still not lose what was left.
All that he had left of her.
Buffy stopped, pressing her hand to his heart, reading him as only she ever could.
"She's in here, still, Spike."
His eyes opened and the sobs came anew as he watched her gently raise her hand to his face. She paused and waited until he nodded. A slow, almost imperceptible move.
With gentle strokes, she wiped his face like a child's, cleaning away the ash and the horror, the murder and the loss. The sin. Cleaning him with a reverence that surprised even his grief-addled mind. Respecting not only him, but the one he'd lost with the sweetness of her movements, the gentle sound of her voice.
But she couldn't brush away the tears.
In silence, she led him back to the tub.
Spike's eyes fluttered open.
Warm arms were around him. Warm legs tangled around his thighs. A slow, steady heart beat under his ear.
What had happened hit him as reality came flooding to the fore.
With a start, he pushed himself off, the water swooshing around. Buffy jumped a bit, startled from her peaceful reverie, however short it had been.
"Buffy!" Spike gasped, inspecting her visually, his hands running over her face and neck. "God, Buffy. Did I..."
"Fine," she answered, smiling softly. "One piece girl."
His shoulders dropped, his hand skimming down her arm and stopping at her elbow. "You... more hurt?"
With a soft shake of the head, she smiled again. "Never left the safety of the side of the tub of lust."
Spike nodded, leaning down to kiss the wound, his lips as gentle as butterfly wings. Darkness crossed his features once again and Buffy steeled herself for the anger she was sure would soon follow the grief.
But it wasn't anger he was feeling.
Not yet.
Fear moved across his eyes like storm clouds, gathering to near explosion. "The baby?"
Buffy chuckled. "When are you going to learn that the kid of a Slayer and a Vampire can take a little moving around?" He stared at her, unconvinced. "Look. Why don't we go into the room and lay down, okay? You can make sure yourself."
Spike nodded, pushing himself to his feet and climbing out of the tub. He leaned down, scooping her up in his arms, careful not to catch her arm between them, and settled her on the floor. With painstaking care, he wrapped a towel around her tiny body, rubbing her softly, studying her still for any sign of injury, other than the one with which she'd entered this room.
Once satisfied he hadn't hurt her as well, he picked her up again, carrying her back into the bedroom and laying her down on the sheets. She studied him closely as he fussed about, making sure she was dry and in one piece before taking her towel and drying himself.
He still looked lost and sad and afraid, but fatigue was taking its toll. He didn't look as alone, though. Some part of him was anchored now, shored to reality. Shored to her.
It was all right to sleep.
He climbed into bed on her good side, pressing so close to her he became just an extension of her warmth. His threw his leg across her and scooted down her naked body until his ear rested against her belly, then curled in a ball around her.
Buffy watched him, stroking his hair, trying to soothe him. Let him know that it would be okay. They would be okay. All of them.
Even Dru.
Spike shifted, growling once. "Can't hear, Buffy. Can't..."
With a gentle hand, Buffy guided him further towards her abdomen, and then stroked his hair again. "She's little, Spike. Be calm. She's fine."
Spike closed his eyes and listened, his hand stroking Buffy's side as he concentrated, letting his own heart slow. Listening to the sound of Buffy's strong, steady beat.
And it came to him. Fast and fluttery like a bird. Pounding out a staccato beat a million miles away, but right beneath his cheek.
It would be okay.
They would be okay.
All of them.
Even Dru.
With the sound of their heartbeats beneath him, Buffy's hand soothing him from above, he fell into oblivion, safe.
Finally, safe.
To be contd.
Well, I managed to get another chapter out on time. I'm thankful to real life for giving me a respite.
The chapter is still angsty, but I think you'll find comfort in it, as will Spike and Buffy. There are two versions of this chapter – a PG-13, which is the ff.net and regular list versions, and an NC-17, which is only on Vamp Sundae.
The bad news – it is unlikely, although not impossible, that there will be a MtB chapter next week. The good news is that I'm writing 2 smutty birthday fics this week for two of our fabulous list members and, if they are nice and want to share, I can post them instead.
I hope you like this chapter, and really, feedback means the world to me. Even if it's just a sentence.
Thanks for reading!
In Kindness, Nimue "Though beauty is rare enough
Still we trust
Somehow we'll find it there
With no guarantee
It seems to me
At least it should be fair" - Allison Krauss - That Kind of Love
www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/ AlwaysEveryday (at) yahoogroups.com HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) yahoogroups.com
Title: Hurricanes (Chapter Thirty - Meant to Be)
Author: Nimue
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)
Feedback: Yes, please
Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::
Summary: Buffy arrives and Spike cannot handle what has happened. It's in her hands now.
WARNING: MAJOR ANGST. I can't tell you what, but read at your own risk. I felt it necessary and organic to the story, so please try and understand and try not to hate me.
Hurricanes
He sat as still as a statue, a half empty glass of thick, amber fluid balanced in his hand, as the door clicked closed behind her. There was no movement when she took a step toward him; just the glassy stillness of a frozen pond with a hurricane raging beneath.
This was not good.
Another step and the hurricane broke through the battlements that she hadn't even known she'd erected in her mind. Torrents crashed down on her with tsunami force. Loss and lost and fear and loathing and, most of all, grief. Buffy shuddered, gooseflesh trailing up her spine, and took one more step.
This time, he turned his head and looked.
And the hurricane floods poured from the stormy blue eyes of a little lost boy.
Gone. Gone. Gone.
Soft voices.
Open door. Shut door.
Click.
Pause.
Click.
Pause.
Click.
Her.
My girl. My girl. My girl.
Please help me.
Please.
She crossed the remaining distance between them in the blink of an eye as he reached for her. He fell forward, glass shattering on the hard wood floor, his knees hitting the ground with a thump and a crunch.
Buffy skidded in front of him, falling, dropping down in broken glass and spilled liquor, reaching to him. Trying to stop the floods. Staunch the bleeding.
Before she could even touch him, he grabbed at her desperately, gathering her to him, holding so tightly she had to wriggle in order to get the heavy splint out of the death grip. Tears rained in her hair as strong fingers dug into her back, grasping for purchase to stop from sliding.
Sliding.
Falling.
"Buffy," he moaned, his voice a pained whisper as kisses rained on top of tears. His voice hurt to use, to hear, but he needed her – wanted her to know that he understood it was her. Give her the chance to sit this one out. Let her bow out of comforting him in his grief over the only love that had mattered before her.
But she didn't shy away. She pulled her head back just enough to angle her face toward his, locking stormy blue in watery jade. "I'm here, Spike," she soothed. "I won't ever leave, okay?"
He nodded, his hands finding her face, drinking in her warmth. Trying to belong.
Belong.
Belong.
"Mine," Spike growled, his grief-torn face flashing from Human to Vampire and back again as if the energy of holding either mask was too much to maintain.
Buffy swallowed, closing her eyes. "Yours," she answered, tilting her head and exposing a golden expanse of neck to his needy face.
Sobs wracked him, choking off his breath, as she lay open and trusting before him. He leaned forward, Vampire mask to the fore, scenting, smelling, feeling her pulse.
The pulse of their child.
He didn't want to be a Vampire.
Not tonight.
Not with her ashes still clinging to his skin.
Spike's hands took hold of her face and leveled her eyes with his. She blinked, looking up at him as he stared at her, so warm and human and full of life. "Mine," he choked out, his lips finding hers with hurricane force, but his body loosening in the familiar safety of her embrace. "Mineminemineminemineminemine."
"Yours."
He lifted her, lips and tongue still searching, tasting, finding, and carried her towards the bathroom. Have to be clean for her. Have to be good for her.
Have to wash it away.
Wash away the sin.
Need her. Need her.
Spike brought his mind under control enough to set her gently to the tile floor, one hand tangled in her hair, the other fingering the hem of her shirt with restless, desperate, fingers.
"Please, Buffy," he whimpered. "Need you."
She smiled softly, touching his face. Feeling the chalky paste of dust and tears. "Might need a little help," she answered, pulling her braced arm away from her body and into his line of sight.
"Don't want to hurt you," he whispered, his face breaking in torment. "Never hurt you. Never lose you."
Buffy took his hand and placed it on her shoulder where the strap of her sling crossed golden skin. "It's okay, baby," she soothed, urging him to lift it from her. As she felt the strap move up, she ducked under, speaking to him softly all the while.
"You won't hurt me, Spike. You'll never hurt me. I love you. I need you."
His tears fell in large, heavy drops as his lips met hers in desperation, one hand dropping the sling to the ground, the other delicately holding her arm until he could rest it at her side.
"Hurt because of me. Dead because of me," he muttered, fingers circling her waist to the button of her jeans, undressing her with a gentleness in direct counterpoint to the hunger in his eyes. The need in his kiss.
"Alive again because of you," she answered, stepping out of her jeans, feeling her own tears fall as he worked off her tank top with the gentleness of a thousand millennia of love.
"Gone." His voice was broken as he stared at her with lost eyes, trying to find her warmth. Trying to drink it from her like brandy.
"Here," Buffy replied, placing his hand on her cheek and then reaching down to tug his shirt from his jeans. She swallowed, watching his heartbreak in his eyes as he took over, exposing a body so beautiful and unblemished that it was almost impossible to imagine the wreckage that lay beneath. "She's home now," Buffy continued softly, so softly, as Spike stepped from his dusty jeans.
He stopped, hearing her words, as he leaned forward to run the bath. His eyes squeezed shut, but tears still escaped and his body trembled in fear and anguish and loss. She leaned forward, turning on the taps and then taking his hand and leading him to the basin as warm water filled the tub.
Silently, she wet a cloth, raising it to his face. Spike flinched as she neared him. He wanted to clean away the horror and still not lose what was left.
All that he had left of her.
Buffy stopped, pressing her hand to his heart, reading him as only she ever could.
"She's in here, still, Spike."
His eyes opened and the sobs came anew as he watched her gently raise her hand to his face. She paused and waited until he nodded. A slow, almost imperceptible move.
With gentle strokes, she wiped his face like a child's, cleaning away the ash and the horror, the murder and the loss. The sin. Cleaning him with a reverence that surprised even his grief-addled mind. Respecting not only him, but the one he'd lost with the sweetness of her movements, the gentle sound of her voice.
But she couldn't brush away the tears.
In silence, she led him back to the tub.
Spike's eyes fluttered open.
Warm arms were around him. Warm legs tangled around his thighs. A slow, steady heart beat under his ear.
What had happened hit him as reality came flooding to the fore.
With a start, he pushed himself off, the water swooshing around. Buffy jumped a bit, startled from her peaceful reverie, however short it had been.
"Buffy!" Spike gasped, inspecting her visually, his hands running over her face and neck. "God, Buffy. Did I..."
"Fine," she answered, smiling softly. "One piece girl."
His shoulders dropped, his hand skimming down her arm and stopping at her elbow. "You... more hurt?"
With a soft shake of the head, she smiled again. "Never left the safety of the side of the tub of lust."
Spike nodded, leaning down to kiss the wound, his lips as gentle as butterfly wings. Darkness crossed his features once again and Buffy steeled herself for the anger she was sure would soon follow the grief.
But it wasn't anger he was feeling.
Not yet.
Fear moved across his eyes like storm clouds, gathering to near explosion. "The baby?"
Buffy chuckled. "When are you going to learn that the kid of a Slayer and a Vampire can take a little moving around?" He stared at her, unconvinced. "Look. Why don't we go into the room and lay down, okay? You can make sure yourself."
Spike nodded, pushing himself to his feet and climbing out of the tub. He leaned down, scooping her up in his arms, careful not to catch her arm between them, and settled her on the floor. With painstaking care, he wrapped a towel around her tiny body, rubbing her softly, studying her still for any sign of injury, other than the one with which she'd entered this room.
Once satisfied he hadn't hurt her as well, he picked her up again, carrying her back into the bedroom and laying her down on the sheets. She studied him closely as he fussed about, making sure she was dry and in one piece before taking her towel and drying himself.
He still looked lost and sad and afraid, but fatigue was taking its toll. He didn't look as alone, though. Some part of him was anchored now, shored to reality. Shored to her.
It was all right to sleep.
He climbed into bed on her good side, pressing so close to her he became just an extension of her warmth. His threw his leg across her and scooted down her naked body until his ear rested against her belly, then curled in a ball around her.
Buffy watched him, stroking his hair, trying to soothe him. Let him know that it would be okay. They would be okay. All of them.
Even Dru.
Spike shifted, growling once. "Can't hear, Buffy. Can't..."
With a gentle hand, Buffy guided him further towards her abdomen, and then stroked his hair again. "She's little, Spike. Be calm. She's fine."
Spike closed his eyes and listened, his hand stroking Buffy's side as he concentrated, letting his own heart slow. Listening to the sound of Buffy's strong, steady beat.
And it came to him. Fast and fluttery like a bird. Pounding out a staccato beat a million miles away, but right beneath his cheek.
It would be okay.
They would be okay.
All of them.
Even Dru.
With the sound of their heartbeats beneath him, Buffy's hand soothing him from above, he fell into oblivion, safe.
Finally, safe.
To be contd.