At the sight of Spike's face, Buffy woke with a start. Confusion and sadness marred her features as her eyes threatened to spill over with tears. Seeing his face again in perfect clarity (the only way she could see it since she had no pictures) made her catch her breath in her throat. She had realized too late what he meant to her, and deeply regretted losing him-regretted that he didn't believe that she loved him. She had spent too much of her life comparing everyone to Angel-her first love-to recognize that her feelings for Spike were just as valid, only different. She sighed deeply and wiped the tears from her eyes before sitting up in bed, noticing for the first time that the vampiress was standing at the entrance to her room, a tray of food in her grasp.
"What's wrong, dear?" Ma'at asked, walking towards the center of the room to place the tray on the table.
"Nothin'," Buffy mumbled, wiping at her face and tossing the duvet away from her body. She slapped her feet on the hard packed ground and stood up. She took a deep breath and walked towards the table, her stomach driving her feet towards the smell of warm breakfast.
Smoked pork with fried eggs and a butter-cream and brine cheese greeted her as she sat down at the table. Greek coffee was served along with her meal and the rich aroma immediately perked her up.
"I used to have the dreams, too," Ma'at said, cryptically. Opting to share more in the hopes that Buffy would open up, she smiled fondly before continuing. "The Slayer dreams," she clarified.
"You… were a Slayer?" Buffy asked, a suspicious tone to her voice.
"Yes, before I was turned." Ma'at looked down at the table, as if she were ashamed. "Isfet was my lover and while I was out one night on a hunt I was gravely injured. I would not have made it through the night unless he had found and saved me."
"I wouldn't consider that saving," Buffy nearly growled. "You don't have a soul. You're against everything you were meant to protect."
"You're wrong about that, Buffy. I am still the same as I was then. I never lost my soul." Ma'at looked into Buffy's eyes, trying to project how truthful she was being.
"If you never lost your soul…"
"Neither would you. You can't be a Slayer without your soul, no matter how much the demon inside you rages against it." Ma'at intoned, struggling to keep her voice neutral.
"So all Slayers would...? How many of you have there been?" Buffy asked, shocked.
"Few, and even less once the Council got a hold of them." Ma'at said, sadly.
Buffy frowned and looked down at her food, unsure what to say. Finally: "I'm sorry I was under their thumb for as long as I was."
"Me too," Ma'at whispered, laying a hand atop Buffy's on the table. "Let me leave you to your thoughts," Ma'at said, standing up and turning to leave.
"I would like to hear more, at another time," Buffy said quickly, before she had time to leave.
"Of course." Ma'at smiled cheerfully to herself before leaving.
Buffy spent the day curled in bed, falling into and out of sleep in between meals brought to her by random servants, whose names she didn't bother to get.
The dream started the same way the last one ended: "Yes, my Queen?" Spike asked looking up at her through a haze of fine black eyelashes. He reached out his hands for hers and pressed his lips feather-light against her knuckles. Her stomach clenched tightly with desire and he grinned slyly.
He stood, leading her with him, and slowly walked down the stairs towards the back of the room. Ignoring the protest of the gods among them, Buffy followed. They approached a lavishly decorated bedroom, and Buffy was in awe as she saw the flowing red and golden sheets covering the large bed in the center of the room. Spike led her to the bed, hitching up her rust-colored skirt to firmly grasp her thighs. He gently lifted her onto the bed, leaning forward to brush his pale lips against her rosy lips. His hands traveled in lackadaisical circles over her thighs as his lips explored hers.
When his cool tongue beseeched entrance, she granted it willingly, greedily entwining her tongue with his. With aching slowness, his fingers crept up her thighs until reaching her apex. He ran his fingers over her nether lips with a gentle ferocity before parting her lips to firmly stroke her clit. She gasped against his mouth loudly and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding on as she trembled. They continued like that, his mouth moved to affix itself to her neck and her mouth greedily gulped down air just to moan loudly again.
"So close," she mumbled, near-incoherent with pleasure.
At those words, he moved his fingers off her clit and placed them at her entrance, slowly sliding them into her slick entrance. His thumb once again began to work her clit as his fingers began to work her g-spot. Biting down with human teeth, he brought her to orgasm.
She woke with a scream of pleasure that echoed down the cavernous hallways.
