beneath you
part twelve
"I knew it."
Lilith stilled, wondering why she hadn't sensed the presence until the intruder had spoken. Normally, her senses were far more advanced and keener than a Slayer's and Vampire's combined; then again, she had just been concentrating on dinner. She slowly turned around, tilting her head as she caught sight of a smirking young blonde behind her. Lilith's eyes narrowed, and she growled. "You!"
Buffy's smirk widened slowly. "Yeah. Me." Walking closer, her arms folded tightly, she shook her head. "I should've known better, if you ask me. I mean, the whole dark-n-gothic thing? Drusilla's worked so much better, and she had the added bonus of being a lunatic. Still, I should've realized you were a vampire fun girl from the start." She shrugged. "But I guess it would have clicked eventually, once you brought Spike into the mix."
Buffy's smile finally faded at that. "You couldn't have left him alone, could you? Why do all the wanna-be Big Bads want to go after him? Why couldn't you, I don't know, go after the... the president, or the pope, like a normal baddie? Why Spike?"
Lilith prowled closer to her. "I'm trying to save him, you blubbering fool!" she snarled.
Buffy rolled her eyes. "From what, hair products hazardous to his unlife?" she retorted.
"From YOU!" the vampiress shrieked, and Buffy moved back, startled. She gaped at the woman (to whom her voices adamantly referred to as 'Cuntbitch Tramp') in astonishment.
"Me? You want to save him... from me?" She watched Lilith advance, furiously nodding her head. Buffy stayed in shock for a second... and then it wore off, and she rolled her eyes. "What the hell kinda psycho-planet are you living on?"
That managed to throw Lilith off. "What?" she snapped.
This time, Buffy was the one storming forward. "You want to save him from ME?" she repeated incredulously. "I am the least thing dangerous in Spike's life, and you, ya dumb bitch, YOU, who barely even... even KNOW him, you wanna -- what? Bring him to life? Make him a king?" Her fist swung abruptly, and as she was now less than a foot away from Lilith, her fist caught the raven-haired woman across the face; and as Lilith had been caught off guard, the punch sent her crashing backwards right into a tombstone -- in the shape of a cross. She winced, but merely shrugged off the stinging as she felt her exposed skin begin to sizzle. That was definitely gonna leave a mark.
Buffy shook out her hand, standing over Lilith with a look of disgust and hatred on her face. "What else could you have been planning on doing, huh? Maybe... getting rid of the competition?" Buffy snorted derisively. "Sorry, honey. I'm NOT going anywhere!"
Lilith had remained on the ground, glaring hatefully up at Buffy's tiny but powerful form, but when the Slayer had finished her tirade, the vampiress had surged upward, grabbing Buffy's leg and yanking down hard. The blonde girl let out a yelp, and crashed down flat on her ass, legs and arms sprawled out to break her fall. Lilith bent down and grabbed Buffy by her hair, slowly pulling her up.
Oh fuckfuckfuuccck, that hurt!
Lilith abruptly let go when Buffy was standing (well, wobbling on two feet, at least), and the Slayer stumbled back several steps, staring in disbelief at the woman.
"Are you fucking insane?" Buffy whispered, bright green eyes wide.
Lilith smirked, baring her teeth. She drew herself up to her full height (which [given that Buffy was normally obscured by everyone at social functions due to her height deficiency] was really quite a good deal) and growled.
"Do you really believe your own delusions, Slayer? Do you really believe yourself to be that on top of things in his life, that you have a say on everything or everyone that passes through? You forget, little one, that he's been alive for a century longer than you. William has known people and creatures all over the world in every way possible, decades longer than he's known you. So yes, maybe I am just a little bit insane, when a little bitch like you claims to be so important in someone like William's life."
The dark-haired vampiress tilted her head in a way that agonizingly reminded Buffy of Spike's (over-abundant) curiosity. Lilith lifted her head, haughtily staring down her nose at Buffy. "I do know him, Slayer. Just as I knew Drusilla, Aurelius himself, Darla..." she sneered, "and your precious, soulful Angelus."
Her feline-like eyes flashed gold. "I know them all, just as I know William. I know William... just as I know all of my children."
Buffy stared at her momentarily in silence. And then she snorted. "Then maybe Social Services should have come after you instead of me, because you have been a VERY bad mommy!" the blonde exclaimed mockingly. Her eyes lit up. "Ooh! Is it okay by law for the Slayer to invoke punishments on negligent parents?"
Lilith smirked. "Oh, do it. Please. I'd love to see you try."
No sooner had she spoken than Buffy had launched herself up and belted her across the face. "I'll try. I'll definitely try... and I'll most definitely succeed." Another fist thrown against Lilith's face, and Buffy pulled back, her breath coming heavily. "Whore."
Lilith snarled and aimed a wicked right hook across Buffy's jaw, which (when Buffy ducked) slammed into the corner of a mausoleum, breaking off a chunk and reducing it to dust particles. Buffy gaped wide-eyed in horror at where her head had been. If she hadn't avoided that punch right at that second...
Maybe confronting Lilith alone hadn't been a good idea after all.
Falling back into a defensive stance, Buffy pushed off from her toes and barreled headlong into her counter-attack when Lilith came at her again. Except that when she plunged toward the evil bitch, the Slayer found herself flying through the air and landing flat on her ass. Again.
She sat up and looked around warily. What... where the hell had she gone? Buffy's eyes lit up and she grinned. Maybe the slut had run away? Big Badass Vamp Chick was just a pussy-footed wimp after all!
"Spike's gonna figure you out, bitch! He's not gonna fall for that bullshit act anymore, not after I let him know!" She yelled out into the night, hoping her voice carried to wherever Lilith was. "You don't deserve him! You're a waste of creation, and you're delusional if you think he's EVER gonna be with you! You - oh!"
Buffy's eyes widened as Lilith climbed over her, shoving her face firmly to the ground, lily white hands around the Slayer's delicate throat. "He can't know if you can't tell him," the vampiress hissed. Her eyes flashed, and she bent over Buffy, bearing her long, needle-sharp fangs. "And you can't tell him if you're dead."
Her hands tightened around Buffy's throat, and now the Slayer was struggling, gasping for air. The vampiress chuckled in amusement. "You stupid, silly child. You really think that I'm just a girl who's got a yen for a boy?" She shook her head. "I think you might be the insane one."
Buffy whimpered, grabbing at the black-haired woman's hands desperately, bucking against her in an attempt to regain the air that she was quickly losing. "You know, something tells me that Spike's gonna... gonna notice it if I'm... not back in the house by... by daybreak!" she gasped out.
Lilith smiled coyly. "Oh, believe me. He won't."
It was the thought of how exactly Lilith might go about shielding her unfortunate disappearance from an apparently very trusting Spike that caused the enormous, powerful surge of adrenaline to shoot through her. Her body scrunched up beneath Lilith's, and her legs came up around the vampiress's head, wrapping 'round her neck tightly. Jerking her legs, Buffy yanked the other woman off of her, forcing her to fly back into the ground. The blonde came at Lilith in a flurry of motion, kicking and punching as much, and as hard as, she could.
"You won't live long enough to touch a fucking hair on his head," Buffy growled, gathering all of her anger and unleashing it in tidal waves at the prone vampire. Blows to the head, ribs, neck, sides, even a cheap low-blow, all rained down upon the dark-haired woman. And it was when Buffy finally stopped, backing up considerably in order to catch her breath, that she realized something truly, truly horrible.
Lilith did not have a single mark on her. In fact -- there was nothing indicating that Lilith had just been attacked by a 110-lb. Slayer who had unleashed the furies of Hell and otherwise on the darker woman.
Buffy had, for the better part of her Slayer career, rarely been in a fight that hadn't left the other party mashed to a bloody pulp on the ground. It was her experience with Glory that had humbled her to that.
But this bitch was stronger than Glory. And Glory had been a god.
So what the fuck was Lilith, then? One of the Titans?
Buffy, for lack of a better word, was petrified. So, instead of backing up slowly, she did the one thing that probably had saved her life in that instant.
She turned and ran like hell.
Lilith gave a mad little giggle of delight, and clapped her hands - apparently, Drusilla's insanity was not one of a kind, and did, in fact, span generations. "Ooh, I love it when they run!" she cooed. Then, quick as lightning, she followed.
In retrospect, it really was pretty stupid of Buffy to hide from a slightly brain-damaged, probably centuries old vampire behind a crypt, but then again, her mind was more occupied with "Flee-In-Terror" mode. Buffy was not known for thinking logically or rationally in a bad situation - that was what Willow and Giles were for. Buffy, on the other hand, had a habit of skipping steps when it came to emergencies.
Anyway, the point was, she was acting on animal instincts, saw the big building, and tried to hide behind it. What the hell kind of super-hybrid vampire was Lilith that not even a Slayer at her most brutal could lay a single mark on her?
Okay. Now she was quite positive that it hadn't been a good idea to go after Lilith alone. If she got out of the cemetery alive... Oh, god, please let me get out alive... then she was going to alert the gang ASAP.
Riiiight after she ran home to Spike with her tail between her legs, and squealing like a farm animal that she regularly likened him with. Well, hey, Spike deserved to know that his latest interest was a fucking lunatic!
She frowned. And what the hell was Lilith's deal with the "They are my children" thing? She couldn't be saying that she was Spike's -- that she was the woman who had given birth to William The Bloody -- could she?
Well, she does look a little like him around the nose, and... Bad-Buffy (as she had now renamed her Pro-Spike thoughts, given how often they gave her bad advice or unnecessary information - such as now) piped up.
EW! If Lilith was his mother... then... she was hitting on her son... and kissing... oh, ew. Gross.
Okay, so it wasn't really that believable. If Lilith was even remotely related to Spike, he would have known. Spike had an unbelievable memory when it came to stuff like this.
"Wow. Creative hiding spot, Slayer. I probably never would have found you," a dry, mocking voice said, piercing into her extremely weird thoughts.
Buffy's eyes widened; then her air was once again being cut off, and she was struggling and kicking her feet in mid-air.
"Let me go!" she tried to scream, but her voice only came out as an unintelligible rasp. Lilith did let go - unfortunately, it was just with one hand. The other remained firmly at Buffy's neck, pinning her to the mausoleum wall while Lilith's free hand pulled back - then collided.
Buffy swore later that she felt her brain rattle in her head, the force of Lilith's blow was so strong.
When she regained consciousness again, she began instinctively lashing out, kicking at the other woman's middle in an attempt to be released.
In response, Lilith's blows became more punishing. Buffy wasn't even aware of how badly she was bleeding until the blood from her split lip began to flood her mouth. Looking down, she noticed that her tank top was very much ruined. She wouldn't have cared at all, normally, as she had gotten used to all of her favorite clothes being decimated night after night over the last seven years, but the sight of her smeared blood on her skin underneath her tank top seemed to be a great cause of concern.
Somehow... it only made sense that this blatant, heinous destruction of her outfit would fuel her hatred for the stupid fucking bitch who wouldn't. Fucking. Let. Go. of her neck.
As much as it was paining her to move at all, Buffy swung her head forward, ramming her forehead into Lilith's perfect nose.
And again, it only made sense that a good, perfectly positioned head-butt from a cornered Slayer would manage to get the bitch off of her.
But just to be sure, once Buffy regained her equilibrium and was able to stand up properly, she spun and knocked Lilith across the jaw with her heavy boot.
By no means was Lilith out for the count, but the dark-haired woman couldn't help but admit that the Slayer (when given a fair chance - or, otherwise, placed in a life-threatening situation) was quite a worthy opponent, and could very well hold her own against power as old as Lilith's.
So she gave Buffy a free card.
She chuckled as she tentatively touched her chin. "You know what, dear? Go ahead and tell sweet William whatever you think it is you know about Big Bad Lilith. Let's see what he says... who he believes." The vampiress shook her head in amusement. "You would think that a Slayer of such success and renown as yourself would have thought to do a little research on me before she would even think of attacking."
Buffy's face burned bright red, but she refused to say anything. Instead, at Lilith's next motion, she lunged forward and caught the small silver signet ring that Lilith had thrown at her
The darker woman smirked. "Do your investigating, girl. And the next time you want to pick a fight with me... make sure you're ready first."
Buffy, who had been determinedly studying the ring during the vampiress's speech, looked up, startled, when she heard the hiss. Backing up wide-eyed when the greenish-yellow eyes of a leopard gazed malevolently back at her from the bushes. One blink, and they vanished.
Buffy stood where she was for a long moment, swaying slightly, then sighed. Rubbing her forehead, where she was fairly sure a bruise would form, she limped achingly out of the cemetery, heading back home, and - hopefully - to Spike's arms. Though both had forfeited this fight tonight, Buffy couldn't help but admit to herself who the real victor of the match was.
She managed to make it home without a sound a protest from her aching body, even when she climbed the porch steps. But apparently, even knocking on the front door had become to much for her - she managed to knock once, before her fatigue forced her to collapse on the ground. She just caught sight of the door opening before her eyes saw black.
It had taken every single little bit of willpower to stop Spike from charging up those stairs after Buffy, in order to, er, take care of the problem she'd managed.
And once his subconscious Buffy made an appearance, his lonely hand working him into a well-deserved release, it was quite easy to roll over, pretend he was curled up with a sweet and loving Buffy, and go to sleep.
Unfortunately, his slumbers never lasted long these days -- he woke up after a good, solid half-hour of rest, hearing vague footsteps on the floor above him, before grunting with annoyance and passing out again.
This continued in a slightly erratic pattern until about 3:18 in the morning, when there were a few loud thumps at the door during his conscious period. Frowning, he managed to stand up without tangling his legs in the make-shift throw that covered him, and sauntered toward the door cautiously.
Somewhere in his lucid, not sleep-deprived mind, he registered that it wasn't normal when loud banging noises were made against the front door at three in the morning. And then, the aforementioned lucid parts remembered that Spike lived in top of a Hellmouth, where this WAS a regular occurrence.
It was that realization that made Spike change course and stagger over to the weapon's chest that Buffy kept - in plain view, no less - in the corner of the living room. Of course, the axe he hauled out was probably a bit of overkill, but he wasn't taking any chances. He moved back toward the front door.
But the bloody pile of... something... lying there was cause enough for him to fling the axe back into the house, and scramble onto the porch. Rich, pulsing, fluid, aromatic, delicious, tangy... oh, god. The blood. He dropped to his knees next to the figure in shock.
"Oh, god. Buffy," he muttered, gently pushing her over onto her back. "Shit!" he exclaimed when he got a good look at her face. Cuts, bruises, blood... Buffy's beautiful, beautiful, picturesque face... The Slayer looked like she'd hit a wall. Covered in spikes. Repeatedly.
"Gods, Buffy, what happened to you?" Spike asked quietly, closing all his senses to the rich, thick red rivers that were dribbling down her face and across her body. It wouldn't do to have his demon react in hunger to the blood placed before him now -- as it was, he was having to forcibly shove the demon back, given how close to the surface it really was. After a moment, when he was satisfied that his demon had been subdued, he settled one arm behind her head and the other behind her knees, lifting her up with barely a grunt. (Lord, but Buffy could stand to gain a few pounds!) He carried her inside carefully, placing her gently on the living room couch.
The minute she woke up, he was gonna raise hell until he found out what had happened to her. But first...
He swallowed hard.
He had to stop the blood.
Warm. So warm, and so...
nice. And loving. Safe.
Buffy sighed softly and
turned over, her eyes fluttering open. To meet the piercing blue gaze of an
incredibly hacked-off vampire.
Uh-oh. He knew she was
awake.
"WHAT THE BLOODY
FUCKING HELL DID YOU DO NOW?!"
Buffy cringed. Ick. Warmth,
love and safety made a swift exit. Now playing: Annoyance.
Cripes. She's been awake
for half-a-second, and the Spanish Inquisition had already begun.
Buffy looked up, preparing
to play the role of the wide-eyed innocent over whatever Spike was going to
blame her for now. But Spike had that look on his face. The one with the squinty
eyes, and the flared nostrils, and the bared teeth that used to say, "If
you make another stupid comment about Drusilla being a ho again, I'm gonna rip
out your intestines and wear them as scarves!"
Except now it was much
scarier, because now, Spike could follow through on that threat.
Okay. So it was full Menace
Mode, then. Dammit. That meant he wasn't going to budge.
Well, fortunately for her,
she knew him well enough by now that she could see the tensing of his jaw, and
the nervous tic of his fingers that revealed his fear and concern for her.
Either that, or her head
had been banged into the damn mausoleum too many times.
Oh, whatever. It couldn't
hurt to humor him.
"Do? I didn't do
anything. I went patrolling, and I got into a fight." Spike glared at her.
She backed up. "Okay, a really, very BAD fight. That's it!" Well,
it's a half-truth, at least. And did I mention that the bitch who did this to me
was your skanky new girlfriend; oh, and by the way, that she's an evil vampire?
Buffy frowned at the middle
of that thought. How was it that Spike couldn't even tell that Lilith was a
vamp? Normally he would've been able to react to her presence, even if she were
fifty miles away.
Hmm. She should probably
get to researching The Enormous Ho sometime soon. Mental note to bug Giles.
Spike raised his scarred
eyebrow skeptically. “Patrolling. Right. That’s what you did after sundown.
For three hours. Remember?”
Shit. Her
face was turning bright red, and she knew it, but she still fought tooth and
nail against it. Or, if she couldn’t beat it, then she could at the very least
keep her composure. Spike was leaning against the couch and smirking at her now.
“So, tell me, Slayer – why’d ya wanna do another sweep after we nicked off
the new-vamp populace for the night?”
She looked at him closely,
green eyes narrowed pointedly. “I was just feeling a bit… dejected. I wanted
to get it all out,” she muttered. There, she thought, that’s
vague enough to get him off my back, and sounds enough like “rejected” to
make him feel like a big dumb guilty… person. Oh, yeah, I’m SUCH a
word-smith tonight.
She noticed his face soften
slightly, but if she’d actually thought that Spike -- Spike! -- was
going to back off, then her common sense was going the Way of The Dodo.
His voice was so cold when
he next spoke that it was practically Arctic. “An’ tha’s a reason to
disappear? Ooh, I'm Buffy the Vampire Slayer®. I’m depressed, I can’t take five bloody minutes out of my
brooding to wake up the sleepy vampire an’ let him know where ‘m gonna be,
s’that it, Slayer?” He turned fierce blue eyes in her direction, flashing
with the cool, hard gold of the demon. “I WAS FUCKIN’ ASLEEP, Buffy! I
wouldn’t’ve known where you were if you hadn’t’ve banged into the bloody
door! An’ what if you hadn’t’ve made it back? What the hell would we ‘ve
done then? How would we ‘ve found you?” His next one, a true low blow,
really, really went in for the kill. “How could I fuckin’ tell Dawn?! What
the buggerin’ hell were you thinkin’, ‘f you were even thinkin’ at
all?” he yelled.
Buffy winced. Oops. Out of
sight, out of mind, it seemed. She hadn’t even been thinking about Dawn, she
was shamed to say.
Oh, yeah, she was up
for Sister-Of-The-Year.
Whoa… mmkay. How had he
managed to pin her to the couch when she wasn’t looking? His hands were
grasping her shoulders, as if he were desperate for her to understand, or
believe him. Her defensiveness reacted, and she started kicking and shoving at
him – to no avail.
Ugh. He was five minutes
away from beating the sense into her.
And as always, her mouth
jumped in to ruin the day… or make it even worse, the way things were going.
“You could always ask
your sweet, innocent little pet about it,” Buffy snarled, continuing to push
and shove at him, though it was doing little good.
Spike stopped and frowned
down at her in confusion, exasperation, and (not to mention) annoyance. “What?
What the bloody hell are you talkin’ about? What’s Dawn got to do with
this?”
Buffy groaned and rolled
her eyes, then whimpered softly – dammit, the bitch had beaten her so badly
she’d bruised Buffy’s eyes! She shoved him away, this time succeeding, and
fought the urge to start laughing when he flumped onto the floor. “Not
Dawn, braintrust! Your new Drusilla wanna-be!”
Now Spike was just lost.
“Who, now? I don’t have a – wait, a Drusilla wanna-be? There’s a chit
walkin’ ‘round tryin’ ta be Dru?” For a moment, he looked almost excited
by the possibility, practically bouncing on his heels – well, he would’ve
been if his ass hadn’t been firmly planted on the ground – then, the
confusion set in. Again. “Why?”
By that point, Buffy was
poking herself on one of her bruises to keep reminding her that violence would
NOT be appreciated in this situation, and no, she really should not pop
Spike on the nose, no matter how much the situation called for it, as he was the
man she loved, and it wouldn’t be suitable.
Then she remembered that
the man she loved had been semi-sociopathic for the better part of a century,
and would probably welcome a good punch to the face, as that would induce
foreplay, and inducing foreplay would thereby ensure that -- Arrggggh...
Bad. Buffy. Thoughts.
Also, kinda starting to
sound like Anya. Major wig-factor there.
Either way, she decided it
would probably be better to explain things to him when she wasn’t
resorting to the literal version of beating sense into him.
“Spike,” she began
calmly, giving him a deadly Look when he opened his mouth to interrupt. “Your
new... companion,” (for lack of a better term. She still couldn’t bring
herself to say the... ugh.), “is
identical to Drusilla. In. Every. Way.”
Spike snorted. “Yeh.
Lilith. An’ people called Dru insane. You’re positively nutters, Buffy.”
She scowled.
Spike chuckled in
amusement. “They’re not identical! An’, all right, yeh, they got a bit of
the tall, pale, seductive dark-haired thing with a bit of a penchant for me
thing goin’, but it doesn’t mean anything!”
“Argh!” Buffy ground
out. She grabbed for her head, then rethought it at the last moment, as it was
still swelling and throbbing with pain, and grabbed Spike’s head instead,
doing her best not to throttle him. Because, as her subconscious was quite fond
of reminding her – daily – it wouldn’t do any good.
“Spike! Listen to me.
Clearly. They. Are. The. Same. The mannerisms, t-the way they walk, the
‘cross-me-and-you’ll-die-a-painful-painful-death’ attitude, and, oh yeah,
the BLOODSUCKING! Lilith is a VAMPIRE!”
“Oh, I’ve fuckin’ had
it with you, Slayer,” he growled, straightening. “Lilith is NOT a bloody
vampire, an’ I should know, as ‘m one meself! If she was, I woulda sensed
her fucking demon –“
“The same way I did?”
Buffy demanded quickly. “I couldn’t sense her demony-ness either, Spike, but
I saw it with my own eyes! She killed a man tonight, Spike, and she did it by
ripping his throat out!”
“You’ve been on the
soddin’ Hellmouth too long. She’s got the whole vamp thing goin’ for her,
so you’re becomin’ delusional! Yeh, she’s a bit odd, got a screw loose
an’ what-not, and okay, she’s a bit of a --“
“Blood-sucking
crab-infested gutterslut?” Buffy supplied innocently, grinning when Spike
turned and glared at her.
“An eccentric, I
was goin’ ta say, you stupid bint. An’ how do you --“ he stopped and
looked at her closely. “Tonight? You saw ‘er tonight?”
Buffy let out a relieved
breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Yes, that’s that
I’ve been trying to tell you! I saw her tonight in the graveyard with another
guy. And she killed him. So not only is your new girl a vampire, but she’s
macking on other guys to boot!”
Spike looked at her in
disbelief, causing Buffy’s earlier euphoria at his having finally ‘gotten
it’ to completely disappear. When he finally gave a reaction, she wished to
God that, for once, she’d kept her mouth shut.
“Were you actually –
you have the gall to – you bloody stupid fucking BITCH!” he roared, and
suddenly, Buffy was trying very hard to avoid the virtually apoplectic rage she
could see in his now-yellow eyes. She yelped when she suddenly found herself
propped up against the wall next to where she’d been sitting. An indignant
inner-Slayer began ranting at how she could have even possibly missed
Spike’s lunge at her, but she quickly forced the primal inside to shut the
hell up with one look into Spike’s furious face.
“S-Spike?” she
stuttered, looking up at him nervously. Another very non-Slayer like action; she
hated to admit it, but he was really starting to scare her now. Unfortunately,
he didn’t seem to know what he was doing and grasped her harder, his fingers
already forming bruises on her previously bruised arms. She tried again, meeker
this time. “William?”
That did the trick. Spike
suddenly realized that he had actually managed to scare the living hell out of
her, and he pulled away quickly. Raking his fingers through his gelled hair, he
turned and glared at her.
“Summers, you are one
piece of work, you know that?” he spat. She gazed at him wide-eyed, but before
she could contest that statement, Spike continued. “For months at a time,
it’s push-me-pull-me because it’s the soddin’ wrong thing for you, but the
right thing for your body. So when I back off, I think ‘m doin’ the right
thing, since you don’t want me, physically or... well, not-so-physically. I
decide to move on, I meet another chit who is no where NEAR as complex as you
are, and you bloody start stalkin’ her!” (Buffy began sputtering
incoherently.)
Buffy’s eyes blazed.
“I’m telling you that she’s a vampire because that’s what she is!” she
bit back, as soon as she was able to form words properly again. “And as for
her seeing other guys, well, I don’t know about ‘guys’ plural, but I
definitely saw her with the one. And now he’s dead, because she squeezed him
with her freakish man-legs, hard enough to break his back, while she stuck her
tongue down his throat!”
Spike’s eyes flashed
again. “You’re a nasty little liar. You’re full of shit, Buffy!” he
snarled. The smaller blonde gasped, her jaw dropping indignantly.
“I’m telling you the
truth!” she yelped.
“You’re fuckin’
jealous as hell that I refuse to be your bloody lapdog anymore!”
“I’m trying to
save your sorry excuse for an unlife, you grade-A asshole!”
“Bitch!”
“Manwhore!”
“You stupid fucking
bloody senseless cunt!”
Oh, THAT did it.
With a wild cry, Buffy lunged at him.
Dawn sat alone on the bed
in the hotel room she was sharing with
Clem shrugged, opening the
tiny JD and sniffing at it before shrugging again and downing it. “Don’t
really know, kiddo.”” He threw a disgusted glance at the now-empty bottle.
“But I DO know that I will never drink this stuff straight ever again. Kittens
on the rocks taste better than this stuff, I don’t know how Spike does it.”
He turned his attention to the Mudslide and smiled crookedly at Dawn. “Have
you ever had one of these?”
Dawn’s eyes lit up and
she started toward him when he held the bottle out.
“Oh, wait. Isn’t there
some sort of law against little humans like you drinking?”
God. Fucking. Dammit.
Dawn sat down again, scowling.
Their lips crashed together
at full force, Buffy clinging desperately to Spike. Her arms were flung around
his neck, and she was finding it quite difficult not to virtually climb up his
body to be closer to him. Her legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, and
Spike was sucking and licking at her lips like they were the greatest pleasure
that he had ever known – hey, maybe they were. He stood up, straightened, and
began stumbling backwards, looking for some sort of surface to hold him up
before his knees buckled, and ended up pressed between Buffy’s lither,
squirming little body and the wall. The position, with their combined attempts
at trying to do the impossible and climbing their way inside each other, allowed
their bodies to firmly interlock without the actual... er... interlocking, and they
both moaned out loud.
Spike’s hips began to
twist and grind into Buffy’s, and she gave a deep, shuddering, very
heartfelt moan, arching against him. With his hands firmly circling her waist,
he lifted her up and pushed and pulled at her, his mouth finally leaving hers to
trail a fire of ice down the length of her neck and chest.
Buffy very nearly shrieked
in happiness when she felt his lips close on her skin. She had never been so
damn happy to be wearing a button-down, and she (temporarily) let go of her
clamp-grip on Spike’s neck to assist in tearing it down the middle. The effect
was like metal colliding with a magnet. As Buffy had neglected to re-don all of
the necessary garments before she’d gone out, Spike’s head had zeroed in and
latched on to her small bare breast. Buffy gave a yipping shriek and threw her
head back, moaning. “Spike...” she gasped, running her hand over his chest.
“Oh... god! Missed you... oh!”
Her other hand began to
move down his back to clutch his ass as the first hand squirmed its way between
their bodies, just as Spike moved his head back up to kiss her breathless again.
He was lost. He’d missed
her so bloody much, and he’d dreamed for ages of being in her arms again. His
brain had temporarily shut down, and all he could think about was her, kissing
her, touching her, being with her. His thoughts could only focus on Buffy; and
his body had most definitely recognized hers. His demon was clamoring inside of
him, recognizing its mate and begging for the chance to claim her –
All rational thought
returned the minute he heard his zipper go down.
Spike’s eyes snapped
open, and he dropped Buffy in alarm.
Buffy let out a little yelp
of shock as she hit the floor, staring up at Spike dumbly with her jaw hanging
open. “Spike?” she asked in surprise. “W-What is it? Why did you... I
mean...”
Spike was backing away from
her as quickly as possible, eyes bright and alert. All of his nervous tics had
returned, and she suddenly knew that if she made any sudden move, Spike would
jolt and take off. And God... the look on his face.
Terror. Utter terror.
“No,” he muttered,
“no, no, no, no BLOODY way, this isn’t fuckin’ happenin’ again!” he
bent down into a crouch and put his head in his hands, whimpering softly.
It was like a bucket of ice
water when Buffy clued in. She’d been too far gone, elated that Spike’s
response to her kisses had been just as passionate and loving and demanding as
his kisses had always been; that his feelings for her thankfully hadn’t
disappeared.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t
noticed that while they had both been responding to each other, she had managed
to maneuver him into the exact same position they had taken the first time they
had had sex.
But apparently, Spike had
noticed.
“Oh, god,” she
whispered, and she scrambled over to him on her hands and knees, uncaring now of
the scared rabbit demeanor that Spike was acting with now. She knew exactly
why he was acting like this. Last year, she’d used and abused him to the point
of insanity, and Spike was scared shitless that it was going to happen here.
Now. All over again.
“Spike, oh god... baby,
I’m so sorry,” she gasped, wrapping her arms tightly around him, holding her
own even when he began to twist and push away from her. “God, Spike, I
didn’t mean it, baby, I didn’t mean to do it, you have to believe me,
please!” She bent so that she could look him in the eye, and desperately
cupped his face with her hand. “Spike – William – please, I’m sorry,
I’m so, so fucking sorry!”
He didn’t respond.
She grabbed his chin and
lifted his head. “Spike! Please, look at me!” Blank blue eyes stared back at
her – stared through her – but she otherwise had his attention now.
She shook her head, her eyes tearing up. “I didn’t mean it. You know
I didn’t. I never meant it, Spike, I don’t want to hurt you
anymore...” she whispered softly, slowly leaning forward and burying her face
in his neck. “I’m sorry... I just... want you... I want you back so much,
Spike, and I don’t know what to do.” Quietly, she began crying, clutching at
him desperately. “Please, please don’t hate me again... I couldn’t bear
it... Please, Spike, please don’t hate me...”
Spike was silent for a good
deal of time... but he was clinging to Buffy as desperately as she was clinging
to him. Hopefully that meant that no, he didn’t hate her, and no, he wasn’t
going to curse her name for all of eternity until the end of time.
When he finally did speak,
it was with a certain air of hurt and resignation. He shook his head and
whispered softly, “Why don’t you ever want me on your own accord, Buffy? Or
how ‘bout when it doesn’t benefit you?” His voice was bitter.
Buffy looked up slowly to
see his stormy gaze practically pinning her down. His face was set as hard as
stone, but she could see his beautiful eyes pining and begging her for answers.
He continued. “Why do you
only ever want me when someone else does? I feel like some little sprog’s
bloody toy, Buffy! You have your fun with me, an’ then you toss me away, an’
when someone else picks me up, you want me back again. What do you want from me,
Slayer?” he demanded. “’Cos if you’re just jerkin’ me around by the
shorthairs, just put a stake through me an’ put me outta my fucking misery,
Buffy, right fuckin’ now. Tell me what you want.”
Buffy stared up at him,
before straightening and giving him a pleading gaze. “Get rid of her. Spike,
please. I hate her... and I hate that she wants you... and what if she wants to
hurt you? I-I couldn’t... please, just...“ Her head dipped and pressed
against his chest. “Please get rid of her?”
Spike sighed. “Buffy
–“
The Slayer sat up, looking
at him desperately. “Spike, PLEASE! She’s using you! She’s trying to turn
you against me, and it’s working! She’s evil, a-and, she’s using
you to get to me!” she gasped. “Please, please don’t fall for her!
Spike –“ her hands clutched at him frantically, even as he tugged her
closer, stroking her back and trying his best to comfort her, even as her tears
clouded her vision and obstructed her view of his beautiful face, “Please,
don’t leave me?”
Spike’s stomach dropped,
and his poor abused heart leapt up to the base of his throat. ‘Don’t leave
me.’ She’s asked him not to leave. For him, that was the closest Buffy was
going to get to admitting her feelings for him. In his mind, those three words
were essentially the equivalent of ‘I need you,’ and only one step closer to
‘I love you.’
And suddenly, an enormous
surge of realization and happiness overwhelmed him.
His girl was back.
For the past five or six
years that he’d known her, Buffy had gone from wearing her heart on her sleeve
for the people that she loved, to maintaining a cold façade to keep the people
she loved safe. Last year, she had been worse – her friends’ meddling, and
her reluctant expulsion from Heaven could attest to that. She’d felt betrayed
by the very people she had risked her life time and time over for, and as a
result of her blossoming friendship with Spike, and then her blossoming
not-so-friendship with him, Buffy had taken out all of her aggressions on him.
But now...
Now, this Buffy, sitting in
front of him with tears in her eyes, and hugging him as if she feared the world
would rip them apart – this was the infuriating little blonde spitfire he had
unknowingly fallen fangs-over-heels for at the Bronze so many years ago.
He rubbed her shoulders
gently, placing a reassuring kiss on her forehead.
“I am never leavin’
you, Buffy. ‘m always gonna be around, always gonna be here for you,” he
muttered fervently. His hands came up to tilt her face, so she was looking up at
him. “How many times am I going to tell you, girl? I’ll leave Sunnyhell when
I bloody well want to. An’ if I wanna stay an’ pester you for the rest of
your soddin’ life, then you’re gonna hafta live with it, pet. ‘m not goin’
anywhere.”
Buffy managed a small snort
of laughter, leaning in and resting her head against Spike’s shoulder. For an
uncertain moment, Spike didn’t know if his body would shrug her off, or
welcome his random use as a pillow, and he felt himself tense in a way that
would be perceived bad in Buffy’s eyes. Then he glanced down at the annoying
little blonde and sighed, relaxing. His arm closed more securely around her, and
he dropped another kiss at the top of her head. Looking up at the ceiling, Spike
sighed again. Only one thing left to complete this whole... whatever it was.
“She’s gone, luv,” he promised quietly. “Lilith is gone. I swear it.”
She had finally fallen asleep, upstairs in her room. Thank. GOD.
After about an hour of her whimpering and clinging to him like a human magnet, she had finally passed out, and Spike had lifted her into his arms, carrying her up the stairs. As he hadn't exactly felt comfortable playing the whole 'Mum' role, he hadn't bothered taking her out of her clothes, so if she had woken up later on with creases in her skin from her red leather pants and the tight, ribbed short-sleeve turtleneck sweater she'd been wearing, it hadn't been his fault.
Dawn and the others had come home about an hour after Buffy had gone to sleep, and Spike had been rather annoyed -- although at least partially grateful -- to learn that the entire Buffy-Seduction thing had been the Bit's scheme. Pity it hadn't worked properly. In his role as playing Buffy's Magnet, the tiny Slayer had refused to let him leave her bed, even in her sleep, and so he had been resting on the bed with her -- just holding her -- when a loud crash alerted him, and a tumble of brown hair and blue eyes had burst into the room, grinning.
Dawn's grin had instantly disappeared at the sight of her battered older sister, however, and Spike, after finally prying Buffy off of him, had then had to spend ten minutes trying to calm the frantic teenager down enough to a) keep her from waking Buffy and b) make her comprehensive enough so that she could tell Giles and Willow what had happened.
All in all, he'd been exhausted, and it was only too gladly that he had followed his instincts and collapsed back onto the bed with Buffy. A small, warm Slayer body had been just the thing he'd needed at that moment to relax.
And then he'd seen the ring.
It was nothing like the claddagh that had tied her for so long to the Giant Forehead; that had been small, and essentially weightless. This ring surrounding her middle finger was built to be heavy. There was a blood-red jewel placed in the very center, amid a swirl of pink and white gold. The edges were worn down, meaning that the ring had seen quite a bit of wear and tear over the ages, and was obviously quite old as well. It was really large, too, which made him wonder how on earth Buffy had managed to hold on to it. She could easily have fit three of her fingers inside the band.
Where had she gotten this from?
This was the sort of ring that was carried around as a family heirloom. Only a right git would have dropped this thing, and left it where Buffy could find it. Not that he'd thought that Buffy was such an idiot that nobody could trust her with something of this caliber and beauty -- er, not that he thought Buffy was an idiot...
He had gently prodded Buffy, stroking her arm in an attempt to rouse her. "Buffy, luv, what cemetery were you at tonight?"
She hummed, and mumbled, and groaned softly to herself, before murmuring, "Forest Hill..."
He couldn't resist a soft smile as he attempted to burrow her way into the pillow. His hand lightly wrapped around hers, and he squeezed gently to get her sleepy attention focused. "That's where you saw Lilith?"
Another soft humming noise. "Mm-hmm..."
A pause, then Spike pushed on hesitantly. "She didn't... say anything to you, did she?"
Buffy slowly popped upon one eye and stared up at him curiously. "We're playing Twenty Questions now?" After a moment, she whined. "Spike, Buffy is incredibly tired, and incredibly in pain. Can we do this tomorrow?"
He shook his head. "No, Buffy," he said softly, "I need you to answer me now. What did she say to you?"
Buffy sighed and sat up, wobbling slightly. "She said something... something about her... lineage. Her... children. She was talking about her children... which I guess means her Childer, right?" she asked. Spike nodded curtly, and she continued. "She... thinks that by being with you... she's saving you. From me. I told her she was nuts, and... we started fighting. And then she asked me if... Wait," she grumbled softly, closing her eyes tightly. "She said that... she knew you. Better than I knew you. She said, she knew the entire line of Aurelius, just like she knew you.... and..." Buffy frowned, looking up at him. "She knew you, just like she knew all of her children."
His quick intake of breath had startled her, but as she'd still been half-asleep when she'd revealed this information to Spike, his quiet, soothing words -- not to mention the gentle rumblings emanating from his chest -- managed to lull her back to sleep. And when he was certain that she had passed out completely for the night, he breathed out one single word: "Bugger."
He had taken the ring over to the light to get a better glimpse at it -- and as soon as the light hit the jewel in the center, Spike knew, without a single doubt, that everything that Buffy had been trying to tell him was true.
He had gazed at the shimmering red words mirrored on the wall with a sense of foreboding that life upon the Hellmouth had only honed to perfection in the last four years.
Ego existo Sempiterna. Ego sum fui futurus prout Genetrix postissimum Diabolus.**
Not for nothing had Spike been well-versed in Latin as a human child. And not for nothing had he been known to keep (mostly) cool in situations of dire and utter panic.
He had stalked out of the room. Giles needed to know -- everything -- anything -- that was remotely available about Lilith. Then they could stop whatever she was planning before she could even begin; no matter that it had something to do with him; and no matter that she seemed to be, quite literally, out for Buffy's blood. They would gather up the required information and resources, and once Buffy was again at full strength, they could... possibly call in reinforcements... and -- and kick Lilith's ass, and save the world. Again.
But it didn't stop the terror-infused words from resounding inside his mind.
Oh, God... It's her.
** the above is Latin. Roughly translated, it says: I am Eternal. I exist as Mother of all Demons.
author's note: technically, 'diabolus' means devils, but the stupid English to Latin online dictionary I found refused to give me the proper wording for demons, so I improvised. Remember, this is only what it roughly says. I am not well-versed in Latin, nor have I ever pretended to be.
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