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: Chosenname, Pfeifferpack, Dorian's Kitten, Connie 3D, Bewildered, Rihannon, Dontia, Anteara Sexiespikeluver, Yada yada, Lie to Me, MelissaNelson, All4Spike, Meavepagan, JustWriter, kats_meow, Green, Magnus374, TalesofStories, Irishrose, Pirespike, Jackieisgreat, Kerry220, Darkest Night, Firebeca, Joyce, The Danish Bird, Juggler, Fyreburned, Darkangel16, Daria22, Katamaphone,SusanMarieR, JayeMaru, chrissel, Northman13, Dreylin, Srbeaver, qt_pi_24_7, Victoria 2, Nepalichik, Pencilcomet,Fluffypuppy, Letitia, Frina 8, Penny, Worstwitch, CC414, Scout1233, ValidescopeWest, Dontia, Amauscula, Bewildered, Ellen of Jordan, Tennsters, TBD, MythMagykFae, Ezriela6, Sirya5117, StronglikeanAmazon11, Mandathenurse, TGK, HebiC, Tiffanybkr29, BloodyThorn, Dance of Pales, Flights of Fancy , Lacunaae, Jmhuw, Layla256, k1ngohats, Anaelyssa, LilyRose9, Pixiecorn, Tash, Rosalie Marsters, Miss Luci, madspuffyfan, ncatt, LongI, Sue, Bluemountain, Grey_wagtail, RandiGiles, wuffielover, LoveLoveMeDoom, Dim, Spikedreamer, Claudia1375, and Kittenshift17. (And anyone I missed! If I'm actually missing someone- message me!)
XLIV
"Rupert, will you bring down more chairs? There are a few in the guest room."
"I'll help." Spike was instantly on his feet.
"You should be resting! You and Buffy. All of you!" Joyce firmly pushed the platinum vampire into a seat and squished Buffy, Anya, and Willow into the couch beside him.
Giles gave Buffy a rather plaintive look as he sighed and went up the stairs.
"I'll show you which ones I want," Joyce said quickly, trotting up the stairs after him.
Buffy smothered a snicker as her Watcher's expression suddenly changed and he almost jogged to the guest room. "I don't know whether to think that's icky or awesome."
"It's awesome. It'll keep them occupied," Spike leaned his head against Buffy's. "Do you think the kitties are okay?"
"We've only been gone for thirty minutes!"
"What if they wee on the bed?"
Buffy wrinkled her nose. "Bitty Buffy wouldn't do that. If the bed's wet, it's Bitty Spike's fault."
"Thought you said we weren't namin' 'em after us."
"Fine. Fred and Wilma."
"No! Hate that show. Loud-mouthed lout." Spike crossed his arms.
"Hey, now. There's company present, you crazy love-birds," Xander cautioned drowsily.
"That sort of affectionate banter is proof of a solid relationship," Anya remarked with a yawn.
"Between Xander and Spike or between Buffy and Spike?" Willow struggled to her feet, dislodging Tara from her lap.
"Both," Anya said after a moment's thought. "How long does an old-person quickie take?"
"Oh, ew! Come on, there are folding chairs in the basement. Mom! We're going to get folding chairs from the basement!" Buffy shot to her feet and pulled Willow along behind her.
"I'll finish setting the table," Tara excused herself.
"I'll—" Spike paused as a tentative tapping came from the front of the house.. "Get the door. Must be the ex-Mrs. Drac."
"I prefer simply Daniela." The former countess leaned on the doorway with a half-smile.
Spike hesitated as he greeted her. These familial ties were getting more and more cumbersome. He should have welcomed her with a smirk and dismissive snort, or maybe some civil nonsense. Instead, he was ready to reach out and grasp both her hands with old world manners, maybe even kiss the air next to her pale cheek, overshadowed by a large-brimmed hat. She was a sister-in-arms. She was someone like him. Unchipped and choosing to be good, walking this earth for centuries, deciding not to harm any more. She was someone like Buffy, free from the caped magician with fangs. He swallowed, words stuck in his throat.
"Am I not issued an invitation by the lady of the house?" Daniela asked, one eyebrow raised. "For brunch? If I am on the guest list, I—"
"Sorry! Buggered up night, didn't sleep much." Spike hastily stepped back. "Uh. You okay?"
A long look. "I am well enough."
"The driveway is awfully full. I'm double parked behind that little maroon sedan," Wesley bustled up behind his lover, arm instantly going around her waist. "Let's get you off the porch," he said solicitously.
"You needn't fuss so," Daniela stepped over the threshold, a look of relief passing over her features.
"He's in love. Fussing is second nature. 'Specially if you're—" Spike stopped his runaway speech abruptly. Kindred. "Serious. Buffy!"
"Coming!" Buffy popped her head around from the dining room, setting two folding chairs against the wall. . "Hi! I'm glad you could come."
"I'm sure the Council would be absolutely livid about it." Wesley winked.
"A Slayer and a Watcher marrying vampires? Yeah, I kind of want to watch Travers' head explode when he hears about it."
"Where is the other 'disgraced' Watcher?" Daniela swept into the living room, masterfully hiding her nerves. She could mingle and mix with all the best in society, go to balls and fine restaurants and the like. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been in someone's home as a guest, a friend, not simply an erotic dalliance.
"Just… moving furniture," Buffy replied, cheeks flushing. "I hope that's all, anyway."
"We should start serving the food. Eggs turn to rubber," Anya announced.
"Mom! Giles! We're going to start without you two!"
Wesley ignored the whispers and giggled exchanges from the group migrating toward the kitchen. He caught Daniela's wrist as she prepared to follow them. "Did you hear what Buffy said?"
"I can read between the lines, mon chere. The other Watcher, he falls for the Slayer's mother. What lawless men I know." She laughed softly.
"Marrying. She said marrying."
Daniela's slender shoulders rose and fell with as much nonchalance as she could manage. "It is her foolishness, it's nothing. She's a little girl still, perhaps. She assumes that love leads to marriage and happy endings. We shall have a happy present, yes?"
"Yes. A happy present and a happy future." Wesley shifted his collar, feeling the tender place on his neck that seemed to send a jolt straight between his hips. It's too soon to talk about it. I know that.
Daniela read his silence. "Or… perhaps she knows that you call me yours. And I call you mine. There are some vows that run in the blood instead of a church." She didn't meet his eyes. "I've come to believe that a soul is enough mystical essence to make something more than words, to make them have a permanent meaning, and that your soul… Mon Dieu. It's a masterpiece."
It wasn't enough to hold her arm. He pulled her against him, hands on the sides of her face, gratitude and relief swirling in him.
"I don't know what we've done," she whispered, half-fearfully.
"I don't care what we've done. I love you."
"Hey, Wes, do you want coff- ye gods, another pair. Just make extra coffee, Wills." Xander left the kissing pair alone and retreated to the kitchen. This house was full of people who couldn't keep their lust under control. Or their love.
Everyone seemed to be kissy and cuddly. Anya included. Maybe brunch should've been lunch, given everyone another two hours to get their touchy-feelies out.
He didn't think that would help.
Hmm. If the Hellmouth became the Tunnel of Love, it wouldn't be such a bad thing.
"Giles is a card shark," Spike huffed moodily.
"You would know." Buffy couldn't believe they'd spent most of the day at her mother's house. And it was fun. It was like… Christmas and every happy holiday she'd ever had, rolled into one, without the stress of hiding her emotions or worrying that someone would catch her doing something "Slayer-y." Everyone stayed and ate brunch, played games, then ate snacks, chatted, fell asleep on couches and armchairs, and then talked and ate some more.
It put Spike in mind of early days, when his father was still alive, and they'd gone to house parties with relatives in the countryside outside of London. The days were full of happy idleness. He was little then, but he remembered the feeling of contentment that came from being with people who loved you and the simple enjoyment of spending time together.
He tossed out the words with a careless shrug, trying to tamp down the rising tide of maudlin. "It's a family, Pet. You've got yours back."
"It's complete now," Buffy beamed up at him as they walked out of their apartment that evening, arms around one another.
The tide wasn't stemmed.
No. In over my head and happily drownin' in her.
Literally a dream come true, he realized and gave in.
"I think Joyce looked dead pleased. Did you hear all that highbrow artsy-farsty guff in the kitchen?"
"Daniela does something with the Louvre. She's on an advisory board or guest chair-thingy?" Buffy shrugged. "She promised to help Mom with contacts. And Tara's an art major. I've never heard her say so many words at a time. Giles was having a blast with her. I liked it. Willow really liked it."
"Bloody hell, yes, she did! Whenever a beautiful woman talks about their passion…" He shifted uncomfortably, jeans suddenly binding. "Red wants to do to her what I wanna do to you, once we get back home. Do we hafta patrol?" There was an edge of whining impatience in his tone.
"It's part of being married to the Slayer. I have a permanent night shift job. You can stay at home with the kids," she teased.
"Oooh! Slayer! Leashes. We could train 'em to walk on leashes, then they could—"
"Spike! No! They'd get hurt. We can't drop the leashes and fight, they'd hightail into the bushes and maybe never be seen again."
"Bitty Spike wouldn't! He'd leap on your attacker's face, spittin' and clawin'! He'd defend his mother to his last tiny breath." The thought of the little tortie kitten actually perishing, perhaps stomped on by some hulking beast or kidnapped and traded off at kitten poker made his stomach fill with ice. "Never mind. They'll stay home where it's safe."
"I told you, we're not calling them Spike and Buffy!" Buffy tugged her husband toward Restfield, figuring they had a little hideaway in there, in case they couldn't wait too long to relieve a certain urge. "So. Passion, huh? What do you like hearing me talk about?"
Spike abandoned gloomy thoughts as he shuffled along beside her. "You? Everything. Slayer, everything you say is passionate. Or maybe that's my besotted nature."
Buffy blushed, leaning into his arm. "I love hearing you talk, too. I didn't used to. You had such an annoying voice."
"And you sounded like a complete airhead."
There was no rancor in the words, only fondness. "Wonder what it would've been like if we'd given in, right away?" Buffy murmured.
"Hm?"
"You know. What if the first thing you'd said wasn't 'I'll kill you on Saturday'? What if you asked me to dance. And I said yes?"
Hadn't he been wondering that—and for a much longer time than he'd care to admit. "Well, Beautiful, we wouldn't appreciate each other like we do now. We do seem to have an eternity to try again. Say, that's going to be fun." Spike's voice was against her ear now, his head bent low. "There'll be a thousand ways for me to 'meet' you, Luv. Try all my best lines on you. Let you seduce me. Play the shy, quiet lad. Play the Lothario who wines and dines you…"
A shiver ran up her spine, sending electricity zipping downward. "We don't have to wait for centuries to pass, do we? Can't we practice now?"
His lips traced her neck, inhaling her scent and tingling from her warmth. "Every night feels new with you. Same but different, like I'm on a new adventure that I know has a happy ending."
She turned to pull his lips to hers, nodding when they parted. "Exactly that. Always safe, but never bored. Although… it has been a few weeks, not a few decades."
"A few decades from now, I'll be recreating our vows in some space capsule or at the bottom of the sea. Don't worry. Gotta deviant, creative mind, me. I can keep a lady satisfied."
"Speaking of satisfaction," Buffy pulled him sharply through the gates of Restfield, "I call a patrol break."
He switched on the way through the cemeteries, whirling her in a circle as he whispered, "Rewind."
Buffy found herself twirled as she giggled.
"Couldn't help but notice you on that dance floor, Cutie," Spike purred.
Buffy caught on and the tingle in her pussy became more pronounced. She shifted herself back in time, at least mentally. She was so hung up on Angel back then. Right now, she didn't know why. He was mysterious and forbidden and older…. Like, all that stuff was tempting and steamy to a lonely, conflicted teen, but it didn't actually do much for you. Besides, half the time he pushed her away or left himself, cementing the idea of forbidden, and starving her for his attention and his approval.
She looked at Spike, meeting his dark blue eyes.
Everyone else vanished from her mind.
"I like your accent," Buffy replied flirtatiously. "Are you from England?" She swayed to an invisible song, head tilting with a faint air of seduction.
"By way of a few other places." Spike smirked. His girl was brilliant.
"Ooh, world traveler. What brings you to Sunnydale? It's not really a tourist attraction."
"It is for a certain kind of tourist." Spike played a hunch and slid into his fangs for a second.
"Vampire. Oh, you're in danger here, you know." Buffy tossed her hair and crossed her hands behind her back, leaning sinuously against the caretaker's shed.
"Not even a little scream? That's disappointing." Spike winked, morphing back to regular features. "Vampires aren't usually the ones in danger, Sweetheart. We're master predators."
"Oh, it's not like you'll get eaten up," Buffy popped her lips on the last sound, trying not to giggle as Spike's knees visibly buckled in anticipation. "But you're not exactly top of the food chain around here." She brought her hands from behind her back, stake twirling innocently in her deft fingers.
"A Slayer!" Spike gasped in mock awe. "I knew there was something special about you. I have a thing for Slayers. Certain ones, that is." He circled her, lust in his eyes.
"Yeah? I have a thing for vamps… certain ones, that is. Actually… just one." She deftly joined him, a moonlit tango danced by powerful hunters.
"A one-man-woman, eh? I like that. Loyalty." He inhaled, smelling their mingled scents. "Big turn on."
"And a man who's upfront with what he is and what he likes? Also a major turn on." She let her hand slide down his arm.
"Well, I can tell you that I'd like to drink you dry… but the way I do it just makes you wetter and wetter." He kept hold of her, pulling her toward him.
"You're so bad." Buffy breathed as he suddenly crushed her to his chest. "I would never, ever have said this stuff at sixteen. Or even at eighteen."
"I wouldn't have said it to you, either," he hissed in her ear. "That's why it's pretend, Slayer."
"I think our marriage is going to be anything but dull."
"Shhh. You'll spoil my big seduction scene," he whispered with a wink. "Ever had a vampire service you, Slayer? Give you the worship you're due?"
"N-no."
"Wanna come back to my place? It's right round the corner."
He whisked her inside, moving fast, kissing her hard, hearing her make little gasping squeaks as his fingers parted her thighs. He let out a low moan that cut off with a gasp as she rubbed his cock through his strained denim, the stake still clutched in her roving hand. "Fuck, Buffy, you're so bad."
"I believe you said as long as it wasn't the pointy end." She gave him a naughty smile.
"Naughty thing."
"You bring it out in me! Besides, since when is making your husband happy 'naughty'?" she asked with wide, innocent eyes.
"You win. You always do. But that sort of 'happiness' needs to be for later, at the flat. I think I cleaned out the place of all my odds and ends. Although," Spike looked at the trapdoor to the basement level, "we might have somethin' slippery left downstairs."
Buffy pressed herself to him as he attempted to leave her side. "Don't you dare move. You stay right here, vampire."
"Oooh. I think I could like this side of—"
Spike froze. Buffy stepped away from him, head cocked quizzically. "What?"
"I thought I heard something moving outside."
"Crap. I didn't see any disturbed graves. Hang on." She sighed and curled her fist around the stake.
Spike sniffed, eyes widening. "Buffy, wait."
Her hand was on the door when it was kicked in, sending her backward.
A hulking blur in black with glaring yellow eyes stormed in, striding over her. Its fist was raised, a long thick piece of wood held high as he made straight for Spike.
"What the hell—"
"Sorry. She deserves to be free, to live a normal life. That'll never happen as long as she's shackled to a vampire, no matter what kind of vamp he is," the figure growled, fist swinging down.
"NO!" Buffy swung her body in a laying twist that would have made the most skilled break dancer sick with envy. The figure's aim went off and the stake plunged down deep into Spike's lower left abdomen as he threw a furious punch at his attacker.
Spike roared with pain—twice. Once when the stake impaled him and once when the stake was unceremoniously yanked out by his enraged bride. "Buffy, it's—"
"ANGEL!" she hollered, stabbing the stake into her husband's attacker with a particularly vicious plunge.
"Ow! Buffy!" Angel staggered back, stunned. Buffy had staked him. In the chest. Not the heart, but still, it hurt like hell and it hurt infinitely more because she obviously meant to do it. "Listen to me!"
"No! You listen to me!" Another stake stabbed in, this time into his shoulder. "And I've got a lot more of these in my pockets, so you'd better listen good, because each time you talk, I'm going to jam another one of these puppies in, and I'm going to get a little bit closer to the heart each time I do!"
"But— ARGHHH!"
"That's three!" Buffy panted, another stake going in right at the sternum. Her arm burned with the force of her blow, realizing that she'd probably broken one of his ribs or his breastbone.
"I've got a couple you can have," Spike said weakly. The idiot. He tried to remember what organs were in the lower left. Was that spleen? Pancreas? Thank God he was undead or he'd have died by now.
"Thank you, Honey. You rest." Buffy turned to him with a tender smile, before she did an about face and pushed the staggering Angel back onto the lid of a stone coffin. "First, you ever touch my husband again and I'll kill you. Second, your friends were here all weekend, worrying about you, texting you, and calling you. And where are you? Here, a few blocks away, playing stalker boy. We're on the same team! Wesley and Cordelia were worried sick and Gunn got a bad head injury and you were doing what? Keeping a gravestone warm?" Buffy didn't give him a chance to reply. "Oh, and we killed Dracula! Spike and I fixed this damn problem once and for all! And where were you, when you could actually do something helpful?" Buffy seethed.
"Reckon he was here, near the crypt the whole time. Figured I'd come back to it. It was a favorite trick of his in the old days. Waiting for me in my own rooms, in my own home, to cause a bit of pain. It was s'posed to be deadly this time." Spike groaned and eased himself up off of the other stone coffin. "Or did you plan to take Buffy in front of me, too?"
Angel shook his head, seething unevenly. "Of course, I— hey!" He weakly deflected a blow. "Spike asked a question!"
"It was rhetorical," Buffy snarled, one hand on his throat. "Spike? What do we do with him?"
"Seriously? You're asking hi- OW! Dammit, Buffy!" Angel shoved her off only to find that this time, she couldn't be budged. Her feet were planted and her fingers had something steel-like in their set. His eyes widened further as Spike painfully came beside her and put his hand on her shoulder. The brunette vampire could observe a glistening crimson band around Spike's ring finger. Buffy shifted her hold to touch his wrist briefly and he could see an identical marking.
"What do you want, Angelus? Why try to kill me? I saved the girl. Saved her a couple of times, actually." Spike's hard features softened in a smile that was just for his bride. " Course, she saved me, too."
Angel waited for a second.
"Oh. Go ahead." Buffy didn't loosen her grip, but she didn't plunge a stake in him when he cleared his throat.
Angel took that as progress. "First of all, I'm not Angelus. Only someone evil would be trying to keep you alive, Spike. You killed Drac. Good. But Buffy's still not free, is she? Now she just belongs to you, which is… hysterically funny?" The older vampire stared as Buffy started to laugh, shaking so hard she slumped back into her injured lover. Spike hissed in pain, but smirked along with her.
"You sound just like Riley! My God, Spike, you were right. They're clones of each other."
"Glad you finally picked a new model, Baby." Spike winked.
Angel shifted uncomfortably— very uncomfortably, considering the three holes in his torso. "Okay, okay, laugh. But it's true. Buffy, you're so — blinded. You don't realize it. A few weeks ago, you hated Spike. You would have killed him in a second if he weren't chipped."
Buffy nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Funny how things change, right? A month ago, I would have said I was madly in love with you and would never hurt you. Here we are, on this crazy merry-go-round called Life of the Chosen One. Now, I could totally kill you, Spike's not chipped, and I'm not evil. And for those of you who've come in late to this little movie," Buffy slugged Angel's shoulder with a glare, "Kindred does not mean imprisoned, trapped, or enslaved— when it's mutual. Spike? Give me an order."
"Not this again."
"Yes! Then we have to decide what to do with him."
Spike rolled his eyes. "Buffy, smoke a cigarette."
"EW! God, no! That's gross."
Spike sank back on the edge of the stone lid, hands on his knees, looking a little winded, but moving more easily. Angel craned his neck and noticed that there was no fresh blood seeping from the deep puncture wound he'd inflicted. How could Spike be healing so quickly?
"You think Dracula's mind-fucked brides mouth off to him like that? Not bloody likely. If they tried, they'd be dusted or sold off, but I'd never hurt Buffy, not for anything. Buffy's free, she's just mine. I'm hers. And you can't come between that. Can't break it." Spike shrugged as he lit up.
Angel looked from the scrawny little vamp he'd tortured, back to the blonde beauty above him, her innocence gone, replaced by something radiant, a calm, sure inner strength.
Shit, she means it. She'd kill me right now. If she wanted to. If he told her to.
And Spike means it, too. He really believes it. That what they have is permanent. Can't be broken.
"I claimed him, too. He. Is. Mine. I. Am. His." Buffy bent her head low, close enough that blonde wisps of hair tickled Angel's tight features. "Do you understand me?"
He didn't answer.
"Try another pointy stick, Pet. Maybe in his earhole."
"I heard," Angel spat back.
"She didn't ask if you heard, you berk. She asked if the facts penetrated that obnoxiously thick melon you call a head."
"Spike. Stop."
"Spoilsport." He puffed moodily on the last of his cigarette, then chucked it down and stepped on it.
Buffy huffed, eyes rolling. "Angel, if you understand, you'll leave Spike and me alone. Things have changed. You wanted me to move on—"
"- to lead a normal life!"
"That's what I'm doing! I have college classes. We pay rent. We have brunch. We have engagement parties, and thank you notes, and cats, for God's sake!"
"Thank you notes?" Spike muttered as Angel blinked and whispered, "You have cats?"
"Yes! Real love, real life."
"With freaky accessories." Angel pointed to her ring finger.
Buffy peered at it, barely able to see anything except her new engagement ring. She saw the faint outline of something else and shrugged. "I'm the Slayer. I was always going to have something freaky. You didn't like that. You wanted me to be all pure, innocent virgin or noble hero. You didn't give me any room for middle ground. When we could have found out, you left. And when you could have come back— you didn't. You are the definition of a lousy loser ex-boyfriend right now. And if I didn't think you wanted to go redeem yourself and save people, I would dust you."
Spike smothered a groan. God, it was indescribably hot to watch his Slayer work, especially when the work consisted of berating and threatening the beast who made his life miserable for so long.
"But— Buffy, Spike doesn't have a soul. He doesn't—"
"He has part of mine. And I have part of whatever spiritual goodies he's carrying around. One flesh, one blood, one spirit," Buffy said easily, perfectly convinced she was speaking the truth. "Does that matter now? If he has part of a soul, can he be 'good' enough?"
"I don't think that's how claiming works," Angel dared, wincing as Buffy's arm jerked. Miraculously, he didn't end up with a new hole in his chest.
"You wouldn't know, mate. Never tried it," Spike pointed out reasonably. "Buffy. Let him go or kill him."
She turned to him with a faint pleading in her voice. "I have to protect you, that's my priority. Ugh, this is hard. I don't want to upset Wesley and Cordelia. Mom and Giles are supposed to have lunch with Wes and Daniela in Los Angeles next week, too."
"WHAT?" Angel squawked.
"If she's busy consoling him, their lunch is going to be ruined. They might cancel."
"They could reschedule."
"True…"
"Buffy!" Angel found a reserve of strength while she was distracted. He managed to wriggle and roll to the side, putting his back to the door. Instinctively, he wanted to attack Spike, but he envisioned that ending messily.
"Okay, okay, ultimatum time. If you ever come near us again with intent to do harm, you're toast."
"Or you come near her people. Or our people. 'Specially Joyce and Giles. An' Red. Or Anya. Hell, all of 'em." Spike shook his head. This was turning into the Monty Python Spanish Inquisition sketch. "Or our cats."
"If you come near any one of our family or friends in an anything less than helpful way, you will be in a little jar on our mantlepiece where your restless dusty demon-ashes will have to watch our domestic bliss. For years." Buffy crossed her arms. Angel looked sick at the thought, which was the point. She expected to feel bad about speaking to someone she'd cared for so much in such a harsh way. The memory of him staking her husband, almost killing him after all the things they'd already survived blotted out any fondness. She felt nothing but grim satisfaction as his head began to nod. "It's not like you need me in your life, you know. You have a big city full of evil to thwart and people who care about you."
Angle didn't reply. People who cared about him? Yes, and it was for their sake Buffy was sparing him. If it had been solely up to her… Well. She didn't want her friends who were also his friends to be hurt by her actions.
This isn't about me.
Buffy's always been all about me.
Things change.
"What if Drusilla comes back?" he tossed it out in a hoarse whisper, desperate to prove something.
Spike failed him.
He always had.
"Same deal as you. Hate to do it really, but if anyone came at my Buffy… well, if you'd have come at my Buffy, your head would have come off in my hands as soon as you were in the door, Peaches."
"Ha. Like to see you try it."
There was a beat, a stillness in the crypt that seemed to shrink as the air filled with tension.
"Oh? You heard, Angel, Honey." Buffy gave her ex a grim smile. "He'd like to see it."
"Wanna show him what we did to Dracula, Pet?"
"Sounds good. You go head. I go hands."
Angel watched as the two blondes advanced on him, something predatory and unblinking in their stares. Spike tossed her a knife and she caught it easily, as if her hand was programmed to receive it, her reflexes connected to his.
That was when he ran.
"Do you think he'll come back?" Buffy eased into bed, her namesake purring at the foot.
Spike scooped the other kitten out from under the bed and dropped him next to his snoozing companion. Buffy The Second promptly rolled over, bit his ear, then licked his nose. "I don't know. I'd never stay away from you. Thing is, I'm pretty sure you just shattered all his illusions about you."
"Like what?" She let Spike snuggle in beside her, reveling in the cool, comforting arms immediately going around her waist. Snuggling was good. Stupid Angel. He ruined the mood.
They could get it back.
"Well, like you said. You were little Miss Pure— and you're shagging me. I'm as impure as you get."
"Not that impure."
"Then, you're the big noble hero. No dice there, not in his mind, not when you'd choose evil, soulless Spike over Broody Soulboy."
She shrugged. Someone has a piece of my soul. Spike. That's okay. It was his, anyway.
"But you know what really did it, Luv? He thought it would always be about him. You would choose him over and over again. You'd be loyal to him. You'd always forgive him." He didn't turn her, but the bastard acted like a sire, all right. "Tonight, you weren't his girl anymore. Jealous and angry as he might be, he knows that killin' me won't make you his again. And if he tries, he'll be in an ashtray in minutes. So…" Spike cupped her cheek. "I think he's gone. For a long while."
"So it's just you and me in this brain. Alone at last." Buffy giggled.
"Mmm. It's been only you in my head for weeks. Since… even before you came to me, Slayer. I told myself it was admiration, respect for a worthy opponent. That was just the start."
She sighed. "I love you. I love that you tell me the truth, that you don't hold back." Buffy paused in mid-straddle. He arched up to capture her lips and she came to rest on his chest. "You have a way with words."
"Mmm. A way with my mouth, too," he reminded her, one eyebrow arching.
Buffy licked her lips. "Well, I can't let you beat me. Whatever you do, I'll have to do better."
"You can try. Now, I b'lieve worshipping was on the menu?"
There was another giggle and a tackle, and a lot of groaning.
The bed's larger occupants were completely oblivious to the disgruntled kittens who opted to sleep on the floor, where things didn't move about so much.
To be concluded…
End Note:
Hi Fan Family,
I am sorry for the delay. But, we're almost done this ride! It's been a long one!
If you are interested in reading some mature, curvy erotic/romance, It's Business, Baby by S.C. Principale just released. Or, if you are a fan of my paranormal romances, please go check out Pale Girl (brand new cover and it's amazing!). And lastly, PAle Girl AND Vampire in Vegas are up for awards at the Paranormal Romance Guild. Please go check out their website and vote if you're a fan!
