Kindred
By Sweetprincipale
Set in early Season Five. When Dracula called Buffy 'kindred'' he was doing a bit more than just saying they had a lot in common. Hungry for knowledge of herself and her power, Buffy didn't realize what kind of connection he had forged with her until he left town, and the damage was done. Hoping to break his hold over her, Buffy requests help from Spike. However, the way you break the hold of one vampire is to let another one possess you more fully. But, it'll only be temporary, right? Simple business, that's all…
Dedicated to:KyanaM, Stuffn'Nonsense, Brokenblackrose, Pgoodrichboggs, Pentastic, SJwheelan, Teatime Turbulence, Susan Marie S. Three March Hares, Omslagspapper, and Slayerette 16.
Part V
"What does all of this mean?" Xander asked the same question for the tenth time. Riley had stopped looking at books hours ago. He sat with one in his lap, silent and sullen.
"You could have asked me how to break a hold. It's completely simple," Anya sighed.
"Do enlighten us, after four hours of pointless searching?"
"Oh, no, the searching isn't pointless. You said you wanted to find a spell or ritual to reverse a vampiric hold. We haven't found one. Because, as far as I know, there isn't one, so searching for one would make lots of sense. Very pointy."
"But then- the simple?" Tara looked over at the oddly complacent ex-demon.
"It's not a spell. Or a ritual. I suppose you could consider it a ritual. I think technically the term would be a course of action."
"Then what is it?" Riley spoke, or rather snarled, for the first time in over an hour.
"Another vampire who is stronger than Dracula bites her and calls her kindred. Only he has to do it more often. Whatever they did, the new vamp does it two or three times more. That's all. Poof. No more Dracula attachment."
"That sounds like a really great attachment for vacuums. The Dracula! Gets those hard to clean blood stains out of carpet!" Willow giggled.
"Will! This is serious," Xander snapped, his voice cracking with stress. "Where do we find a vampire stronger than Dracula? The guy just talked to me and I went insectivore! Pus, not- killable by normal vampire slayer methods. He's the mega vamp, the cape, the hairline, the accent- he's the whole package!"
"Yes," Giles' thoughtful tone focused all of them, calmed them somewhat. "That's an excellent question. "What if we can only find a very skillful, older vampire, a few centuries perhaps, but nowhere near Dracula's level of power? No thrall, no parlor tricks. Is that enough?"
"Is it like math? Like balancing the scales?" Tara asked timidly. "Like um- ten of Angel's bites will equal one of Dracula's?"
"I don't know. Since it's based on physical connection and intimacy with the biter and bitee, there's probably not a set ratio. Like Xander and me. I hated all men, but then I fell in love with Xander, and this one man makes me forget about all other men and over 1100 years of vengeance."
"That's love right there," Xander looked proud as he leaned over and kissed her smiling lips.
"Angel's two hundred and something, oh- and he is related to the Master, so that's some kind of innate power on the demony side, right? And Angel and Buffy have a really intense connection, so-" Willow's words were cut off by a book hurtling past her head and shattering a mirror in Giles' entryway.
Riley was up, hulking and imposing over all of them as Giles scrambled to his feet, rage and rationality warring for the dominant position on his face. "All of you, making jokes. A vacuum? Scales and math? My girlfriend is possessed by an evil, murdering, bloodsucking vampire who left us with the mess to clean up so that she doesn't stay susceptible to him for the rest of her life- which could be cut short if he comes back to town anytime soon. And your idiotic solution is to make it worse? Pass her around from vamp to vamp, let her get punctured full of holes who knows how many more times, wondering when it'll all magically 'balance'? Are you insane?"
"Calm down, man! No one wants to do that!" Xander held out his hands soothingly, stopping inches from Riley's chest. "No need to throw stuff at the people who love her and want to help her."
"Help her how? Buy her a ticket to LA? Or offer to drive her down so she and Angel can meet up in one of the nicer demon slime pits while he feeds off of her?"
"Um- actually, he's refinishing a nice historic hotel in LA, and Cordelia says his taste in furniture is improving and - I'm shutting up now." Willow finished hastily.
"Oh great. A hotel. With dozens of rooms for him to gamble with his soul using parts of my girlfriend."
"That is not how this goes. That is not what this is about. This isn't Buffy's mess, nor did she ask us to clean it up." Giles rose and moved slowly to Riley. "I am upset. You are upset. We are all upset. Show of hands if you're upset with Dracula?" All hands shot into the air. "Please keep them up if you're upset with Buffy?" Five hands plummeted down, and although all of them dropped, one was the standout in its slowness. "She did everything she could. More than any other human can do, and you're angry at her for that?" Giles demanded frostily.
"I didn't say I was! My hand isn't up!" Riley protested.
"But it was- for a second," Anya pointed out. "Of course you're angry. You feel betrayed. It's like she had an affair. And you're afraid that to fix it she'll have more 'affairs' only the man doesn't put anything inside of her- oh, well fangs. Which is symbolic, I suppose."
Riley seethed. Xander shook his head, "Not helping. On many levels, not helping."
"But, yes, I am. Because, see, he thinks somehow she could have avoided this, and so he's blaming her. Maybe not consciously. Or, he's insecure because of the need to have a vampire help her, and since it has to be a trustworthy vampire, we have to go with the only one we know who has a soul, which is Buffy's ex. Am I doing good? Would the crazy psychology lady be proud?"
"I'm not mad at her. I'm mad at the situation. And I'm not sure that Angel is 'trustworthy' soul or no soul."
"Definitely not without the soul," Willow mumbled.
"You're all forgetting the best option. Take out Dracula! Finish the job!"
"Buffy's not likely going to be in any shape to-"
"Why does it have to be her?" he demanded angrily. "I can do this."
"With all due respect, that's doubtful. Perhaps you and your unit- or your entire battalion. But not just you," Giles informed him quietly. Is that what sticks in your craw? That you can't do what she does? One tiny woman alone outperforms you? "Riley, help me sweep up. The rest of you, see if you can cross-reference Bonds of Blood with Histoire La Trois Mairee, see if we can find anything about how his brides were turned, anything unusual, any attempts that were made and failed, on either side."
"Giles, I'm really sorry. I lost my temper. I'm not the throwing things kind of guy, believe me," Riley's tone was genuinely contrite as they walked to the kitchen together and Giles got a small broom and dustpan. "I'll replace it, of course."
"I'm angry, too. At myself. That I failed to protect her. That I found myself easily and completely overwhelmed by three beautiful demon brides. But, you can't keep being angry at Buffy to disguise that you're angry at the situation and what you couldn't do. None of us did any better. She, when you consider all things, did the best. As she should, being the Slayer." Silence met his words, and Riley methodically took the brush and swept.
"Why didn't she tell me before you?" Riley suddenly whispered. "She told you first. Then Willow."
And Angel, then Spike. Then you. "She was afraid of your reaction. Doesn't that seem telling, Riley?" Giles held his eye.
Riley stammered slightly, "T-telling me what?"
"She doesn't get flustered by demons, apocalypses, vampires, staring death in the face night after night- but she was afraid of you. That you'd be upset. If you resent her power, just consider how much you truly hold over her."
Riley looked stunned. Reflective. Giles managed to hide a pleased "Ahah!" smile. Now, he'll see it. He'll realize that she really does care, and he needs to help her, not keep trying to prove something. If all of us wasted time trying to prove we're better than the other, or better than her, we-
"But that's not how it should be," Riley said slowly, shaking his head, brow creased, eyes despairing. "I'm the one she should count on the most. I'll be there for her. I love her. The relationship- I mean, no offense, but couples have a bond that others can't reach."
Failure to launch, Giles thought bitterly. And you're presumptuous. This little group has outlasted couples of every shape and size, Cordelia, Jenny, Oz, Angel- are you next? He spoke calmly, "We've been with her for longer, we are- we are the fixtures. She knows that -"
"She can count on you, but she can't count on me?"
"We know she does! But our relationship is obviously different. You can't judge the-"
"There seems to be a lot of things that I 'can't' do."
"To be fair, there are a lot of things that she can't do, either. But she doesn't give up, Riley."
"I'm not a quitter, Giles."
He looked relieved. Inside, his heart didn't mirror that emotion. "I'm glad. I know Buffy will be grateful for your support and your help while she deals with this- this unfortunate incident."
"Yeah, I'm sure she will," he replied with a hollow smile, no conviction behind his words. "I'm gonna head out."
"Perhaps we should all call it a night. Rather an exhausting session for little knowledge gained."
Oh no, Riley thought to himself. I've gained a whole lot of knowledge.
I know she trusts them the most. I'm the boyfriend. But they still outrank me.
I know that they don't get it. That in their eyes, Buffy can do no wrong. They don't see this for what it is, digging her in deeper with sick vampire games. All of them are - too close. They've lost their ability to see clearly, too long on the Hellmouth.
Thoughts swirled around as he bid falsely cheerful goodnights to the others, the two couples departing in separate cars, Giles locking his front door behind them.
Maybe this thing, this biting thing, will fix her head. But I still won't know where her heart is.
She jumped guiltily when the phone by her bed rang. Almost midnight. Could it be Giles? Or Willow? Riley. It was probably Riley. She had wanted to call Giles, but simultaneously she hadn't wanted to call, afraid of interrupting a research session. "Hello?"
"Hi, Buffy."
"Hi, honey." Buffy's voice was relieved and warm. At least he still calls, he can't be too mad. "How was research. Please tell me you found something?" Something less wiggy and confusing than making out with Spike until I can't tell a love bite from a blood-letting bite.
"Nothing. The vampire challenging Dracula's hold is the only thing that anyone even mentioned. Or killing Dracula. I like that option better."
"Me, too," she sighed.
"Really?" He sounded hopeful.
This sigh was regretful, "Not until I break this hold. I don't know if I can fight him to the death, or if it'll just be another draw. And I don't know where he is. And I can't take off on a world trip with college starting in two weeks."
"So. You're going to LA?" Riley asked sharply.
"Huh? Why would I- oh. Oh, to see Angel. Um. Well… I have to see if he'll help. A-and you know, you guys just started looking. There might be something you haven't found. Sometimes we research for days, weeks, before we get that big break."
"Okay," Riley sounded relieved. "I'm worried about you. Are you feeling any better? Did the ritual help?"
"While I was doing it, I felt better," she said ponderously. "Now that I'm done- I feel the same way I did earlier." With an added bonus of swoopy stomach and … something else. Hunger's not the right word. Craving.
"I can come over?" Riley suggested. "See if I can make you feel better?"
"Oooh, paging Dr. Finn," Buffy giggled softly, perching on her bed. That'd be a nice distraction, and certainly would take the edge off. "Why don't you- uh- hang on." Catching sight of herself in the mirror, her eyes widened and her voice dropped. Deep puncture marks, fresh, not going to be passed off as those of a previous bite. And then- oh wow. A string of light, yellowing bruises that would be gone in hours. No one could leave a mark on her for long, which she supposed ought to make her the envy of every other teenager who wanted to hang out in Lover's Lane. Never had a love bite that lasted. Only bites of the regular kind. Even Angel- he never did that sort of "necking" because he couldn't risk the temptation.
"What's wrong?"
"Oh, uh, I just thought about the steps- of that ritual? I wish you could come over, but I think I'm still in the solitary 'cleansing' zone. If I get all cozy with a certain handsome guy, it's probably going to undo what I just did."
"Yeah, Giles mentioned it was a lot of physical and mental 'attunement' and you needed to isolate yourself from distractions. You know, he's pretty quiet, but you get him going on rituals and spells, and he's hard to shut up."
"No kidding. My first years with him were not so much fun for Buffy-brain. Oh man, I was probably so rude to him in the beginning. In my defense, he treated me like a tool for a job for the couple months."
Riley's brow wrinkled in confusion. "You were just a kid. I can't believe he would do that to some little girl."
Buffy's face morphed into something thunderous. "I was just a girl. Okay, and I was little by default. I'll never be what they call statuesque. And Giles knew more about being a slayer than I did. He just couldn't see past the Chosen part of Chosen One. You know, oblivious to the individuality?"
"You could never tell that now. He was totally defending you."
"Defending me? From what? Who said something? Did Xander say something? Or was it Anya? I bet it was Anya, she has NO filter."
"Yeah, she's pretty blunt. No, she said you need to - to break a hold with another one. Isn't that just going to double your stress and the weird feelings you have?"
Buffy paused. She breathed deeply and felt the buzzing in her chest. It wasn't worse. Unconsciously, she ran a fingertip over the tender, red spots on her neck. Eyes closed, and she pressed her hand to it harder, leaning into it. Feeling phantom pressure, him above her, between her- even inside her.
The buzzing stopped, and the craving overwhelmed. She answered in a breathless voice. "I don't think so."
Riley heard the shift in her breathing. "Are you thinking of Angel?" he asked before his common sense could override that idiocy. Way to piss off the girlfriend.
"No," Buffy answered honestly.
He waited for the anger and shrewishness. Nothing. "You okay?"
"I just want to lie down." Spike. Lying on top of me. Oh my God. That shouldn't have happened. Tomorrow night, not going to happen. I'll use the spell. Shouldn't have these feelings. Not these feelings. "Tired now."
"Of course, Sweetie. Be careful, okay? Do you want me to take you to the doctor? Maybe they can do something for that rapid heartbeat?"
"Maybe. If it doesn't settle in a couple days. Giles told me the longer Dracula is away, and the farther he goes, the less I'll feel the hold. It ought to get better soon."
Riley realized she'd never gotten back to asking what Giles had defended her from. Which would be defending her from his own outbursts. Strategic retreat time. "I'll check in tomorrow morning?"
"Can that be late tomorrow morning? Sleep-deprived Buffy."
"Late tomorrow morning. Doughnuts?"
"Best boyfriend. Thank you. Jellies, please?"
"All the jellies for you, honey. I love you."
"Night, Baby. I can't wait to see you tomorrow."
She laid down. She sat back up. This was a pattern. Into clothes, all dark. A dark turtleneck, too. She hesitated, and then took the beautiful night-colored scarf Spike had slipped around her neck and lovingly wrapped it around her own throat, fingers lingering where silk met skin.
"Oh, something is so wrong. So, so wrong. I need a kill."
She jammed stakes in her pockets and waistband. "A slay. I need a slay."
He shot the balls with perfect accuracy, one after the other, calling them out without missing one. Everything was heightened. Senses. Strength. Libido. He looked lustfully at a petite blonde who served his whiskey and left it on the edge of the scarred felt table.
Pale copy. No fire.
"One more shot and you owe me a fifty. Ran the table," Spike broke off with a grunt and took his final shot. He looked at the humans surrounding him in the dive bar north of the college. Final ball rolled in, perfectly. "Pay."
"Don't show your face in here again," one burly figure snarled.
"I won't, once you pay," Spike puffed smoke in his face, not easily intimidated. The blokes didn't know he couldn't land a punch.
"Take your money and go."
So he went. But he couldn't relax. Even the faintest trace of headache was gone. I'm so buzzed. It's not fun when you don't have anything to kill. Or… The blonde waitress passed him a napkin with her number on it. He smiled and crumpled it when she wasn't looking. Never had a human before. Not in bed.
She was so hot when she pressed to his leg. Could feel heat even through two layers of denim. When he was inside her-
"Oh hell no. No." Spike threw his glass on the floor, storming out. He'd had a horrible, stupid, vile thought.
That he'd have a human in his bed. A human he craved, and who craved him. Who wanted him, was his, connected to him like he'd never been connected to anyone. Beautiful and powerful, everything you could want, really.
Except he hated her. Yes, of course he did, and he in no way was thinking soft, soppy, curious thoughts about if she'd ever want him like he was thinking of wanting her.
The Slayer. Dracula owed him eleven pounds for cards, and a billion for aggravation, confusion, and self-loathing.
"I need to kill somethin'," he muttered in a dark, bruising voice.
The sounds that greeted him confused him. He knew those sounds. They were familiar and evoked unpleasant memories. Slayer's fighting sounds. Little exclamations as she landed blows.
I want to watch her in action.
I want to help her.
I want to fight her.
No. Not that last one.
Bloody hell, what happened?
He came upon the sight, four to one, and she was holding her own without the slightest effort. But that didn't matter. She didn't have the monopoly on killing evil in this town.
Actually, she does. An' she might get a bit possessive over that just now.
Well, who cares? I need a kill just as bad. She's got outlets. She can shag Soldier Boy. She can punch out anything she wants.
Buffy blinked as a ringing roar halted her fight, and a leather tornado landed in the midst of her and four vampires. Now five. "Oh, come on!"
"Look," Spike spoke to her as easily as if they were having coffee while lounging about, despite the fact that he was raining blows on the biggest of the assailants. "There's four of them and two of us. Two apiece is fair."
"But I was here first!" Buffy protested angrily. She kneed one and sent him spinning into another.
"But you can fight day or night! I'm on half shifts, here!" Spike rammed one's head into a large marble grave marker.
"You can fight in the tunnels!" Buffy glared.
"I avoid them when I can. Not pleasant. Full of muck in places." Spike gave her a disgusted look.
"So what, you prefer the open air battles?" Her tone had become less testy, more teasing.
"I love a nice brawl on a clear night. And after this, how about a lovely moonlit picnic," he held out his hand, high in the air, and without asking she threw the stake he wanted, "and some star-gazing?" he offered in a mocking voice as dispatched the snarling vamp.
"Real romantic, how could any girl refuse?" Actually… that doesn't sound terrible. He tossed the stake back and she caught it without varying her attack. A one-two punch, stake, stab, twist, and she stood in a double shower of dust as he finished the last one with a savage ripping of head from neck.
They stared at each other, breathing hard, a few feet apart. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked casually.
"Nope."
"Needed a kill?"
"Slay. A slay."
"Synonyms, Pet."
They are, aren't they? Like family and kindred. "Semantics are kicking my ass lately," Buffy restlessly shifted her shoulders. The moshpit in her stomach lessened abruptly as he stood beside her. That's weird. And helpful. Like him.
"I'd offer to do it for you, but I've been side-lined."
"I don't know… you didn't look like you were warming any benches two seconds ago."
He smiled at her, unintentionally, unplanned, almost sweetly shy. Then he barked, "Look what you made me do!"
"Huh? What? Did you rip your precious coat or smush your cigarettes? I didn't ask you to fight!"
"You made me- smile at you. Not in a smug, 'I'll eat your heart for afters' way."
"So much ew."
"This arrangement between us- I told Rupert it was gonna be more than nuts and bolts. It wasn't going to work out because we have to- I have to want you to be mine. An' you have to want to belong to me. I know you don't. An' frankly, I don't turn folks without a purpose, an' I never claimed or put a hold on anyone, not even Dru, though I wanted to. I'm picky, like Drac, but for a damn different reason. I didn't do it 'cause I didn't want to. I only want to be 'close' if I can feature someone livin' around me for years and years."
Buffy breathed shakily through her nose. Is he telling me the deal is off? I can't have this feeling of being half-finished. I can't… I won't beg him. "So… it won't work?" she asked in a weak voice, all the manic supernatural energy suddenly draining, squashed flat with sadness, incomprehensible sadness.
"You don't want this, Baby," Spike reached for her and then dropped his arm hastily. "You know that."
"I know I don't. But I don't want to belong to him. Spike…" the words choked her. "Spike?"
"What?"
"I don't lie to you, you know?"
"Stands to reason. You don't care what I think of you."
That's right. I don't. And that might help now. "You don't have to believe me."
"I will." He had absolute conviction. But what could she be about to say?
"I don't even really believe me. But it's true."
"Out with it, Slayer, the suspense is killin' me, and that's quite the feat seein' as I'm already dead."
"I don't know why. I don't understand it. But I know a few vampires. The kind you talk to, deal with. Not just stake. I loved Angel. I hate Harmony. Dracula confuses me and annoys me and I so hate him for this stunt. But you- you I could see being around. In my town. And you keep coming back, and you're not leaving. Why?"
"It suits me."
"That's all?"
"I like being where slayers are. You're here."
She started walking, he fell into step. "I'm sorry to get you into this mess. I know it's a long shot."
"Hey, now. You're the patron saint of long shots, Slayer."
"There are times when you talk to me, not down to me."
"I don't look down on you anymore. 'Cept for your taste in men. That's a bleedin' nightmare."
She sighed.
"What are you getting at? Just say it."
"If I had to belong to someone, I'd rather it be you. I still want it to be temporary, but… I think you see me the most clearly. And I think I see you pretty clearly, too."
"That's a laugh. You see us all alike, except for Peaches, him an' his removable soul."
"You're annoying. You're rude. You're a good fighter. You have no morals when it comes to killing people. But you have loyalty, and patience, and you loved someone once. You kept her scarf all this time, and you lent it to me because you wanted to help get through this without more awkwardness than necessary. You don't like when people underestimate you. You don't like when they underestimate me. That's probably part of the reason you hate Angel and Riley." She finished, crossing her arms, and then gasped. "Oh. I mean- not that Riley-"
"Look whose honesty showed up tonight and brought along some friends. It's okay. I won't tell him."
"I didn't mean it like that. He just doesn't get everything yet," Buffy told him- told herself.
And he's not going to find out, Spike thought. "You'd choose me?" Over Angel? Ha. Take that, Forehead.
"Out of my limited options," she clarified, then gave him a hint of a smile. "I forgot to say you have a really big ego and I don't want to feed it anymore."
Silence. Walking past rows and rows of headstones, checking for open graves. "You're not scared of your job anymore."
"Nope."
"You're at home in the dark. With the dead."
Denial blossomed and flowed in her chest, and then- "I am. I'm… I feel like darkness is around me and I'm absorbing it."
"Wearin' you down?" He gave her a speculative glance.
"No. I don't know. Maybe. Yeah." Depends on the night, or who fights next to me, who I fight with, what I have to deal with the next morning. More powerful than ever… More needy than ever. Something's off, not filled. A vacancy inside and I thought maybe knowledge would fill it up.
"That was blindingly clear, Luv. We'll stick with a possible 'I don't know' for now," Spike chuckled.
She wasn't laughing. "He said my darkness rivaled his own."
"Mhm. Well, he would, wouldn't he?" She stared at him and he sighed. "He wanted you to want him. He wanted you to think you belonged with someone like him, all dark an' moody."
"It's not just him that says that. Well, not just him that thinks it. Riley does, too. He thinks I've got a thing for vampires."
"Then you'd be on your back with more customers than you could service, Luv. This is a Hellmouth. There are hundreds of us a year. I've only ever seen you kiss one. Okay, two, but I don't count. It was a spell."
Earlier tonight, guess it's technically last night at this point, wasn't a spell, Buffy thought. "You don't think I'm like that? Dark? I will skip over the insanely horrific word picture you attempted to paint."
He stopped. Came close to her and inhaled, thinking. "Wouldn't he love it… wouldn't I love it… if you didn't belong to the light anymore? If you were down here in the dark, rollin' about with me?"
She didn't even know her stake was back in her hand. Didn't know why her fingers wouldn't form a solid fist around it, ready to strike at him for all he was insinuating, for how much he was in her space. And then- he stopped, an inch away, blue eyes boring into hers. "I like you in the sun. I'm the only vampire who's ever seen you in it. You fight in the day as hard as you do in the night, you don't care who's watching, you just get the job done. Drac would have said whatever he wanted to get you to want him, Baby. But he didn't know you. Didn't study you. I'm the one who does that. You're at home in both worlds, with your little mates in the sun, and down here with us monsters in the darkness. There's no one like you. And that's…" he swallowed the bitter realization, "that's why we want you. Why I want you."
"W-want me?" No other words would come out.
He winced, his whole body and face seeming to do some painful, deep- down shiver like they could shuck off emotions he didn't want to have or feel. His hand shot out and gripped her wrist, the one with the stake, and she dropped it in surprise at how fast and ruthless his grip was.
But he didn't talk.
Actions are shouting enough. Wants me. Doesn't want to want me.
She twisted her arm, until it wasn't a brutal circle of fingers around her wrist, but two hands, palm to palm, gripping, challenging. "I don't want to want you, either."
He blinked, startled. If she doesn't want to- is she saying - she does want me, against her own best instincts?
She nodded into his blank stare. Won't say more. Won't spell it out. Don't understand it. Don't like it.
Want it, need it, have to find it. Have to know.
This was gonna hurt him. Hurt later, when it was done, but he had to. Had to know. Had to try. It would give him no peace, she never had, not since the very first day he laid eyes on her. Funny how he still had blood lust, but it was transformed now, with the blood becoming secondary.
A slow snarl, like a growl that came from the center of his chest. She could feel the reverberations under her hand. Gripped her harder and pulled her closer, frustration on every smooth angle of that face. "Spike."
"Shh."
She squeezed his hand back. Is this a game? Who can outlast the other in this stupid tension that's not helping me feel any better, just building and building and I'm going to explode before he-
"Kindred, Buffy," he whispered, eyes suddenly melancholy, almost forlorn. This won't work. Could feel her heart hammering against his hand, feel her pulse jumping through his fingers. His free hand went up, traced a loose hair back from her shocked face, his eyes roving over it. For any sign, any crumb that it was welcome, that it was unwanted, anger, desire- something.
"For now?"
It was like the dream, but he could see her lips move. He heard the words louder in his own head somehow.
He promised, "For now."
Her lips were moving again, but her mouth had gone dry. The tugging sensation that went in two different directions threatened to rip her down the middle as she prepared to say something incredibly ludicrous and dangerous. But I have to. I have to find… it. Whatever it is.
He flinched when her hand appeared in his periphery. And stroked down, barely touching him. Eyes were too bright. Lips were trembling. Oh no. Oh, no, wait don't do that, don't you dare. "Buffy-" he sounded urgent, eyes widening, his grip on her other hand suddenly loosening, pushing back.
Too late. A whisper stroked his ear the way one lone finger trailed across his face. "Kindred, Spike."
To be continued...
Author's End Note: Thank you again for those of you who are reading the "Spuffy" novel CrossRealms:Shattered by S.C. Principale. Definitely a closed bedroom door sort of book- just fair warning.
