Love from Afar
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEE-
The alarm clock cut off as a small fist smashed it. "Damn," Buffy grumbled as she rolled onto her back, her arms flopping down at her sides. "Now I'm gonna have to get a new alarm." She wiped her eyes irritatedly and then sighed deeply, inhaling the fresh air of the morning, and looking up at the ceiling of the once-again redecorated master bedroom.
She lay in bed for a few more minutes before groggily rolling from the bed and standing. She rubbed the back of her head as she walked over to her dresser, turning on her CD player. The simple chords of her Sarah McLachlan album filled the room, and she hummed along as she opened random drawers, pulling out clothing. She slipped out of her light blue sweat shorts and pulled on a pair of pink silk panties, then a low-rising pair of flare jeans. The ragged tee that she had worn to bed flew over her head and she pulled a red tank top on, then walked into the bathroom and brushed her shoulder-length hair, pulling it back into a knot and applying mascara and a sheer lipstick.
"Java java java," she mumbled as she walked down the stairs. Her bare feet stuck slightly to the warm linoleum tile that covered the kitchen floor as she padded toward the refrigerator. Looking down at her feet as if to reprimand them, she noticed that her toenails were due for a new painting job. Upon opening the refrigerator door, a cold blast of air hit her in the face and she sighed as it gave her temporary relief from the absurdly warm morning. She pulled a small glass bottle out and closed the door, settling herself in one of the stools by the island in the kitchen. She opened her frappuccino and took a sip, smacking her lips and licking them.
The mail sat next to her on the countertop, where Dawn had placed it an hour before. "Bill, bill, bill, you may have already won ten million, bill," she said dully as she sorted through the various sized envelopes. The last letter in the stack caught her attention. The cream-white envelope had been addressed to Miss Elizabeth Anne Summers in an elegant script, and sealed with wax, and there were no postage markings of any kind upon the linen paper, as if the sender had taken the time to place it in the mailbox themselves. "Looks interesting," she said to herself as she hopped off the stool and plucked her frappuccino off the counter, and walked to the living room, letter in hand. She sat on the couch, curling her legs beneath her.
Upon breaking the seal and opening the envelope, she discovered a single leaf of paper. The faint smell of sandalwood and cinnamon wafted up to her as she unfolded the sheet, noticing the same nearly Victorian hand as was written on the envelope, and she read it curiously. Arching a perfectly-shaped brow, she smirked slightly as she read the salutation. "My darling Elizabeth," she read, smiling. She recognized the prose upon the page from one of the few days she had paid attention in her English classes at UC Sunnydale.
Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?
Thou are more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And Summer's lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd:
But thy eternal Summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
~William Shakespeare
There was no signature, but at the bottom of the page, three words caught her eye. "You are magnificent," she read aloud. A faint blush stole over her complexion, her smile widening as she re-read the words on the page. She was flattered, although deep down she knew that secret admirers, especially in Sunnydale, usually turned out to be bad things. She sat pensively on the sofa for a moment, pondering who her admirer could be. She hoped it was someone handsome, intelligent, and interesting, but with her luck, it would probably end up being Moloch the Internet demon back for vengeance. With a giddy little sigh, she folded the letter and put it back into its envelope.
She finished her frappuccino and flounced back up the stairs, a spring in her step as she entered her bedroom and stowed the letter away in a drawer of her desk, then checked the time on her wall clock, yanked on some boots, and ran back down the stairs and outside.
~*~*~
"Sorry I'm late," Buffy said apologetically as she walked into the newly remodelled Magic Box, the bell above the door ringing loudly.
The brunette at the table smirked at her. "No sweat, B. Can't start your meeting without you. 'Sides, it gave me a chance to catch up on old times, isn't that right, Xander?" Faith smiled at Xander predatorially.
"Y-yeah," Xander stammered nervously. "Faith was telling me how nice it was to finally be out of prison."
"I'm still wondering how she got out," Willow commented, not looking up from the newspaper she was reading.
Before a fight could break out, Buffy intervened. "Anyway," she began, then addressed Faith. "The reason we're here is because I need to ask you if you'll fight with us again. Now that Spike's gone, we need someone else with powers to take his place, and I think you're just the person to do it."
"I'm touched," Faith said slightly snarkily. "Didn't the Bleached Wonder take my place in your little club to begin with? Seems like I'd just be taking back my old position."
Xander spoke up. "Buffy, she's a criminal. She just got out of prison. Don't you think we need a little more time to think this through?"
"That's reformed criminal to you, buddy," Faith said, still managing to smile.
"Xander, I've thought this through until my nose bled. I think that for Faith the best thing to keep her from landing back in prison-for good this time-is to work with us." Buffy looked at him and he closed his mouth, swallowing whatever comment he was preparing to make.
She turned back to Buffy. "Alright. I'll do it. But on three conditions."
"What's that?" Willow asked, putting down the paper.
Faith plucked the stake she had been playing with earlier from the table and twirled it like a sharpshooter would his gun. "Number one. I don't get put in a coma." She looked at Buffy pointedly, and the blonde Slayer had the decency to look sorry. "Two, I don't get sent to jail. And three. None of y'all better die."
"Easy enough," Buffy said. "Between the two of us, we should keep those from happening."
Faith stood, clapping her hands and rubbing them together in a way that made the other three people in the shop think of Spike. "When do I move in?" she asked.
~*~*~
Buffy walked down the sidewalk after a long patrol. A rustling in the brush to her left caused her to whip her head around, but it was merely a cat stalking a mouse in the undergrowth. She shrugged her shoulders, continuing her trip home, completely unaware that she was being watched.
She walked up her driveway and unlocked the door, then dragged her weary body up the stairs and into her bedroom. After pulling off her jacket and boots, she stretched her protesting muscles slowly, pulling them back into shape, then stripped and plucked her white bathrobe from the hook it hung on. She shrugged into the short terrycloth robe, walking across the hall to the bathroom. She pressed on the stopper of the bathtub and let hot water run in, pouring some sweet-smelling bath oil into the porcelain tub, then lit candles around the room and sat on the toilet to wait for the tub to fill.
Once the tub was filled, she climbed in, sinking down into the water with a contented little sigh, but hissing slightly as it came in contact with a cut on her forearm. The water immediately relaxed her, and she lay there comfortably, her mind completely blank. She had nearly fallen asleep by the time she realized that the water was now merely lukewarm, so she stood and stepped from the tub, draining the water, then rubbed herself dry with a soft towel. Swaying slightly on her feet as she dried her hair, she pulled on her robe once more and walked back across the hall, pulling on her pajamas. She had pulled the sheets back in preparation to climb beneath them when a knock sounded at the door.
Sighing, she rubbed her eyes and walked slowly down the stairs, ignoring the fact that the knocking became more agitated. She looked through the panes of glass at the top of the door and saw Faith standing on the front porch with a duffel bag.
Buffy opened the door. "Faith," she said tiredly. "What are you doing here?"
"Nice to see you too, B. Listen, do you have anyplace that I can crash for the night?" She walked into the kitchen, pulling an apple out of the refrigerator and crunching into it noisily. "Mmm. Tasty."
The blonde slayer nodded silently. "You can sleep on the couch. What happened to the apartment the mayor got you?"
Faith gave Buffy a winning smile. "We killed it."
"Oh." Buffy turned and headed up the stairs. "Well, um, goodnight."
"Yeah. G'nite, B." Faith plopped down on the couch, turning on the television and turning the volume down.
Buffy walked back upstairs and into her room, slipping beneath the cool cotton sheets of her bed. She snuggled against the pillow, almost immediately falling asleep.
[Dream Sequence]
Buffy walked into a stark white room. The walls and ceiling were barely discernable from each other, and the furniture was minimalistic. She sat down on a white leather chair to wait, instinctively, though she knew not for what or whom she was waiting. A white cat with piercing blue eyes jumped down from a shelf in one of the corners, and slunk over to her, rubbing up against her jean-clad calf. She picked the cat up and stroked its fur gently.
A hole appeared in one of the walls and a young boy, not much older than ten, stepped into the room. He brushed off his white pantsleg and
then straightened the collar of his white smock. Tapping one white sneaker on the floor, he turned his gaze on her. "That's a nice cat," he commented, scratching his head and causing his brown curls to become disheveled. The boy's eyes were familiar, a cool, bright blue. Buffy focussed on the shape of his face. He had well-formed cheekbones for a child so young, full, pale lips, and a straight, slightly broad nose. He looked exactly... like...
"You miss him," the boy said.
Buffy nodded.
"You will find each other."
[End Dream Sequence]
Buffy was jarred out of sleep by someone shaking her shoulder urgently. "Wha? Whozit?" she mumbled, opening her eyes a crack.
"Buffy! There's a fugitive in our living room!" Dawn exclaimed in a harsh whisper.
She looked at her younger sister, then waved her off. "Faith's not a fugitive. She got out on good behavior. Go to bed."
Dawn put her hands on her hips, staring at the blonde exasperatedly. "I'm not going to bed, Buffy. You promised we'd go shopping today. Besides, it's nearly ten."
Buffy looked over at her nightstand, remembered she'd broken her clock the previous morning, and then sighed. "Oh. Lemme sleep for five more minutes." She rolled over and pulled the covers over her head.
"Buff-yyyy..." Dawn whined, an evil grin on her face.
"I'm up, I'm up," Buffy said, half-falling out of bed.
She changed into a long denim skirt and a black shirt with a fluted hem, then pulled on a pair of boots and walked downstairs. A sweet floral smell engulfed her as she entered the kitchen, and she saw a bouquet of cream-white roses standing on the counter. Dawn, who sat at the
island eating a bowl of Corn Pops, gestured to the flowers.
"Those are for you," she said, her mouth full of sugary cereal and milk.
Buffy looked at them, noticing a card. She plucked it from the plastic stick that held it there. It was again the same elegant handwriting, with
the same scent of sandalwood and cinnamon. She felt she knew the scent from somewhere, but couldn't quite remember where. "You are exquisite," she read silently, smiling softly. She pocketed the card, pouring her own bowl of cereal. She ate quickly, then walked over to the coatrack, pulling on a long leather coat and plucking the keys to the Jeep from one of the pockets. "Ready, Dawnie?" she asked.
Dawn put her dirty dishes in the sink, then bounded toward her sister.
"Faith, we're going out. We'll be back before slayage time, I hope."
"Cool," the brunette replied, her eyes not moving from the television screen. "I might go out later. Have myself a time."
Buffy quirked her eyebrows. "Just not too good of a time," she reminded her partner in fighting the good fight. "Don't want to have to bail you out."
"Yeah, yeah," she said as they left.
~*~*~
A man in an expensive suit stood before the ticket counter at a posh Los Angeles theater. "Two, please. The best seats you have available, next to each other."
"Certainly Mr..." the clerk began.
"Jameson," the man said, brandishing a credit card.
~*~*~
"Please?" Dawn pleaded, trying her best to give Buffy puppy dog eyes. "Pleeeeaaaasssseee?"
"No, Dawn. You are not getting leather pants." Buffy's voice was stern.
"But you have them..." Dawn argued.
"And I paid for them myself. Unless you can do that, you're not getting them."
"Fine. Can I get this halter top?"
Buffy rolled her eyes, looking at the skimpy piece of material. "How much is it?"
"Only thirty bucks. And I'll work it off," she was quick to add.
"How do you propose to work it off?"
Dawn thought for a moment. "I-I'll sharpen your stakes. And get holy water for you at the church. And polish your boots. And-"
"Okay, okay. You can get the halter top."
"Eeeeee!" Dawn bounced around the store, embarrassing her older sister. "Thank you thank you thank you!"
~*~*~
When Buffy and Dawn returned home, laden down with packages, Faith still sat in front of the television. "Yo, B!" she called. "Something came for you."
"Oh?" Buffy asked, curious. "What?"
"It's on the counter in the kitchen," the brunette slayer replied.
Buffy walked into the kitchen and saw a small round box sitting atop the counter, accompanied by another envelope. Sealed with the same wax, and scented with the same aroma of sandalwood and cinnamon, the note inside was written again in the Victorian style hand. "My dearest Elizabeth," she read softly to herself. "It would do me great honor if you were to accompany me to dinner and a theatre show tonight at eight. I look forward to seeing you. You are effulgent." She inhaled the light scent that clung to the paper, smiling slightly. "Wow." She walked out into the living room. "Um, Faith? Do you think you could handle patrolling alone tonight?"
"Sure, B. What's up?"
"Oh, I have somewhere else to be," Buffy hedged, racing up to her room with her bags. She tore open her closet doors. "Little black dress, little black dress..." she mumbled to herself as she searched through her wardrobe. "Ah. Here we go. Little black dress."
Checking the time on her clock, she realized that she had a half-hour to get ready. Dumping out the contents of her bag from Victoria's Secret, she rifled through the filmy and lacy undergarments. After plucking a black satin thong and matching demibra from the pile, she took off the tags, then ran over to the still-open door and shut it, clicking the lock firmly in place. She stripped and pulled on the thong and brassiere,
pausing to turn in the mirror. She slipped the satiny dress over her head, fiddling with the straps that went over the shoulders.
Running barefoot to the bathroom, she quickly styled her hair, holding it up with a narrow black clip, then applied a bit of makeup. Slipping her lipstick and a small wooden stake into a black handbag, she went back into her room to pull on some black maryjanes and a leather coat. She hiked up the dress, strapping a specially-made holster to her thigh and slipping a stake inside. After dabbing her vanilla scented perfume on her throat and in her cleavage, she walked calmly down the stairs.
"Um. Buffy, there's a car waiting outside. The driver said he has instructions to take you to LA?" Dawn quirked an eyebrow. "And nice dress."
"Thanks," Buffy grinned. "Don't wait up."
After the car pulled away, Dawn picked up the letter that Buffy had dropped on the counter next to the unopened box. "Effulgent?" she asked, confusedly. Suddenly she burst out laughing as she realized who was waiting for Buffy in Los Angeles.
"What's going on, kiddo?" Faith asked, walking into the kitchen with Buffy's weapons bag.
Dawn bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing more, as she said in a shaky voice, "Buffy's got a blind date."
"So? What's the big deal?"
"Buffy's got a blind date with Spike."
~*~*~
The shiny black Lincoln pulled up outside a very expensive-looking restaurant, and the driver got out, walking around the car to open the door for Buffy. She stepped from the vehicle and peered at the front of the restaurant.
A very handsome, albeit slimy-looking man in a tuxedo scurried up to her. "Miss Summers, I presume," he said slightly haughtily, waiting for
her response. She nodded. "Allow me to escort you to your table." He took her elbow and led her inside the restaurant, which was lit by hundreds of candles. Light classical music played in the background. "May I take your coat and handbag, Miss Summers?" Again, Buffy nodded, handing them over to him.
The maitre-d led her over to where another man in a tuxedo stood with his back to her. He had dark brown, curly hair and stood with his hands folded behind him. "Sir? Your guest has arrived."
The man turned and it took all Buffy's slayer strength not to pass out. "Spike?" she whispered.
"Hello cutie." He gave her a genuine smile and took her hand, leading her to a quiet table in a corner of the restaurant. Buffy could feel warmth from his hand passing up her arm. He pulled her chair out for her, then pushed it in as she sat. He took his own seat.
"Did you like the flowers I sent you?" he asked, gazing at her openly.
Buffy nodded. "You're warm," she commented.
"Long story. Which is only part of the reason I asked you to come here." Spike lifted his hand and a waiter approached them. "Wine, please. Your finest red." The waiter nodded and left.
Buffy looked at him guardedly. "What is the rest of the reason?" she asked with some hesitation.
His voice lowered. "I think you know the rest of the reason, luv," he said huskily. He straightened. "Had to see my favorite Slayer again. So, tell me. What's new in SunnyHell?"
"Tara's dead," Buffy said emotionlessly. "But then you probably know that. Warren's dead, Jonathon and Andrew are in jail. Dawn has a boyfriend, Faith is out of jail and helping us, and Anya left town."
Spike raised his scarred eyebrow. "So in other words, I missed the world falling apart?"
"Pretty much," Buffy replied. "How about you? Where did you end up after you left?"
[Flashback]
In a cold, dark cave in the most primeval region of Africa, Spike stood shakily before an entity with an aura black as night. The bleached-blond vampire's nude body was a mass of cuts and bruises, and dirt covered every unmarred surface. Only his incredible self-control kept him from unleashing his demon and howling in pure inhuman agony.
"Well, you passed the test," the being began, stepping out of the shadows. Spike cowered in fear before the humanoid whose hair and eyes were black as night, and whose skin was white as the pure, driven snow. The entity that was causing the Big Bad to quiver in fright sighed. "I guess you need to be renewed now, huh?"
A small hand pressed itself to Spike's chest and red light filled the cave, pouring out of his body as he screamed in pain. A half-mile away, a
herd of wildebeest stampeded.
[End Flashback]
Spike shrugged, running a hand through his curls. "Went to Africa."
The wine arrived and they each sipped from their glasses. "That doesn't explain how you got warm."
"Are you sure you want to hear this?" he asked, searching her face.
The waiter took their orders, then left silently.
Buffy looked him in the eye. "I think I can handle it. I could handle being ripped out of heaven by my best friend. I don't think anything you can tell me will shock me at this point."
Spike took a deep, calming breath and began his story. "Hopped a steamer after I left. I needed to get away from SunnyHell for awhile, and I figured I may as well get the chip out while I'm at it. So I took the steamer to Australia, then stowed away on another in Sydney. This one took me to Johannesburg, South Africa. I was bloody well surprised when I found out that they had been expecting me. They covered me all up and sent me into the Serengeti in a truck of some kind, then dumped me in a cave." He paused, sipping his wine. "Whatever was in that cave... it... put me through god knows how many tests. Finally it decided that I'd had enough, so it put its hand on my chest and made me scream in pain for three weeks. I'm not yanking your chain here, it bloody hurt. Afterwards it said that I was renewed and it pushed me outside in the sunlight without a stitch on. I was waiting for the end to come, but it never did. Here, look at this," he said, pulling up his watch slightly. "I've got a tan. Pretty neat, eh?"
Buffy nodded, but stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.
"I got back to California a month ago. Looked up Peaches, kept his kid from killing himself, got m'self some good recuperation time in. Sent you Shakespeare, roses, and chocolate, and here we are. The end."
"I-I don't understand. Why didn't you come back to Sunnydale?" Buffy asked slowly.
The waiter brought out their meals and placed them before the couple. "Thank you," Buffy said kindly, turning her eyes to her food.
Spike quirked a smile. "The Hellmouth really doesn't like freshly renewed former-demons too much. Tends to revert them to their demon state."
Buffy took a bite of her pasta, chewing and swallowing it quickly. "What does this renewal thing mean?"
"With almost every other demon, that it ever did this to, they just got refreshed. Almost like taking years off their age. But with me... I gather something went wrong, because my demon fought it. The renewal won, and here I stand. Human, with a kick." At Buffy's uncomprehending stare he reiterated. "I kept my vamp strengths." He grinned at her. "So I've been out here with the GrandSire, fightin' the good fight. Moved into his hotel and live rent-free. This tortellini is amazing. Try it." He skewered a piece of the tortellini with his fork and held it out to Buffy, who bit into it, her eyes closing as she enjoyed the taste.
"Mmm," she half-moaned. "You're right."
They finished their meals in a relatively comfortable silence, occasionally telling stories of what had happened since they had seen each other last. Spike paid the bill, and they got their coats, exiting the restaurant.
They walked down the block to the obviously restored DeSoto, and Spike opened the door for her before climbing in the other side and turning on the engine. "So the bit has a boyfriend, does she?" Spike asked, slightly protectively, as they entered traffic.
"Yep. And before you ask, he's human. I checked. His name is Steve, he's a senior, honor student, and his shoe size is 9." She grinned impishly at him, and he chuckled.
"God, I missed you, Buffy," he said before he thought. He immediately kicked himself inside. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he repeated internally.
"I missed you too, Spike."
Stupid... bloody... wonderful! "Oh?" he asked calmly.
"Yeah."
~*~*~
Buffy and Spike exited the theater two hours later. "That was the best show I've ever seen," Buffy gasped, awestruck.
"Thought you'd like it." He took her hand in his, leading her along as they walked through the city at night. They stopped at a small park, turning into the area and sitting on a wooden bench framed on both sides by trees. The sky was remarkably clear, and they gazed at the brightly shining stars quietly for a few moments.
"I need to tell you something," Buffy said softly. She lifted her head from his shoulder and turned to face him. "Last year... after Riley came back... I just want to say I'm sorry. For hurting you... for--"
"Forgiven, luv," he said lightly, smiling at her.
"And you need to know something else."
His eyes filled with concern. "What is it?"
"I fell," she said simply. "I fell, and I was so scared that I broke it off with you. Whatever 'it' was."
"Buffy... do you... do you love me?" he asked, unbelieving.
"Yes, I do," she replied. "I love you." She leaned in and rested her forehead against his, sighing in relief as if a huge weight had just been lifted from her shoulders.
"Oh," he whispered, tilting his head up and capturing her lips with his in an amazingly gentle, tender kiss. He pulled away from her slightly, murmuring "I love you so much," against her mouth.
"Take me away?" she asked huskily.
~*~*~
The DeSoto pulled up in front of the Hyperion hotel. Spike and Buffy walked up to the front door, entering quietly. The Fang Gang was away, having gone to Pylea on a business trip. The entire building was completely empty. Halfway to the stairs, they pulled each other close and, entwining their fingers down by their sides, leaned in for another breathtaking kiss. Pulling back, they smiled softly at one another before walking slowly, hand-in-hand, toward the elevator.
Once the doors closed behind them, Buffy stood demurely, her hands folded in front of her, for a moment. Spike gazed at her predatorially before nudging her toward the wall of the elevator, bracing his hands flat on the wall on either side of her as he dipped his head down, sucking her lower lip into his mouth and nibbling on it. He flicked his tongue across it before opening his mouth over hers and coaxing her tongue to dance with his own. Buffy complied, the tip of her tongue circling his almost teasingly. Too soon, the elevator softly jerked to a halt and the doors opened. Slightly breathless, they stepped from the elevator, making their way toward Spike's suite.
~*~*~
Buffy gasped in pleasure as she watched the head busy between her thighs. She ran her fingers through Spike's dark brown curls and massaged his scalp as he continued his ministrations. His hot tongue speared inside her and she spasmed around it, climaxing for the first time that night. He ignored the almost painful, throbbing need between his own thighs, rubbing against the mattress, as he concentrated on pleasuring her. He quickly inserted one long finger, twisting and bending it within her, sucking on her engorged flesh. Adding a second finger, then a third, he prepared her for him.
As she keened with her second orgasm, he crawled up her writhing body and nestled himself between her spread thighs. He kissed her gently as he slowly thrust forward, entering her inch by inch. She attempted to pull him into her, but he held her back. "Just let it happen," he whispered in her ear, kissing the flesh directly below her earlobe as he gave a few shallow thrusts, finally burying himself within her. His eyes closed and his throat worked spasmodically as he rested fully inside her, relishing the heat and tightness. His hips flexed as he withdrew almost all the way, then re-entered just as slowly as he had before. Her hips arched up to meet his and she hissed in pleasure as his abdominal muscles pressed against her.
They soon established a slow, gentle rhythm, rocking against each other, lips and hands worshiping. "I love you," she whispered, moaning softly as he twitched inside her from hearing those simple words. Their climaxes built up slowly. They lost track of time, space, everything but one another as they pleasured each other and themselves. Buffy came first, spasming once more around his engorged flesh. Spike thrust twice more, hard, then pushed up with his toes and emptied himself within her. She kissed his shoulder softly as she calmed, rubbing his back softly. He pulled out of her as gently as he had entered, his half-soft flesh nestled between them. Rolling over onto his back before the muscles of his arms gave out and he collapsed on her, he pulled her close, tucking her beneath his chin.
They fell into a restful slumber, content to just be together.
~*~*~
The lovers awoke early the next morning, to the sounds of the city. They smiled against each other, nuzzling noses against bare skin. "Good morning," Spike murmured, kissing Buffy gently.
"Mmm," Buffy agreed. "I could wake up like this every morning."
"Yeah?" he teased. "You sure about that?"
She smacked his chest lightly, then kissed his right nipple. "Come back to Sunnydale with me," she whispered, her tongue circling the now hard nub of flesh.
He chuckled with pleasure. "I can't just leave Los Angeles. I mean, Peaches might need me..." he said slowly. Buffy looked crestfallen, lifting her head from his chest to peer into his eyes. Spike smiled reassuringly. "Here, now. You think I'd stay in Angel's city one minute longer with the prospect of loving you forever as an option?"
Buffy kissed him. "When?" she asked, her mouth returning to his nipple.
"Today soon enough for you?" he responded, pulling her up to him and rubbing against her. "I want you," he whispered against her lips.
"Oh?" she asked, rubbing back in kind. "Show me."
~*~*~
"Dawnie, I'm home!" Buffy called as she walked through the front door of her house in the evening.
Dawn leapt from the couch, rubbing her lips, and scurrying into the foyer. "Hey Buffy. Your date went well, I take it?"
Buffy nodded, shrugging out of her coat. "Yeah, it did. Hi, Steve!" she called, noticing Dawn's swollen mouth.
The auburn-haired boy walked up to them sheepishly, waving. "Hey Buffy. How are you?" He draped an arm about Dawn's shoulders, his brown eyes twinkling behind his glasses.
"I'm good. Dawn, where's Faith?"
Dawn shrugged. "She went out about an hour ago. Said she'd be back in time for patrol."
The door opened behind Buffy and Dawn's eyes widened, a huge grin splitting her face. "Spike?" she asked quietly.
"Hello, 'Bit." Spike set down the box he was holding, just in time for the teen to attack him, hugging him tightly.
"Eeeee!" she squealed. "I missed you!"
"Missed you too, Nibblet." His eyes fell on Steve, who stood awkwardly, unsure of how to act in the situation. "And this must be the boyfriend," he said, sizing the boy up.
"Sir," Steve half-stuttered. "I'm Steven Anderson." He extended his hand, and Spike took it in a very firm grip.
"Nice to meet you Steven. I'm William Jameson. Most people call me Spike. You're taking good care of my Nibblet?" The threat lay just below the surface of that question, and Steve quickly nodded. "Good. Well, I've got some more things to bring in, so--"
"You're moving in?" Dawn asked excitedly, the grin now threatening to crack her face open.
Spike nodded. "Can't be living in my old digs anymore. Things have... changed." Dawn caught the hidden meaning. "So, Buffy. Which one's my room?"
~*~*~
"You know, it's not polite to speak foreign languages when you're in public," Buffy chided, "Especially when the people around you can't understand you." The grey-skinned demon jerked its head up, staring at the three people who had intruded on its ritual with violet eyes. "I guess I'm just gonna have to teach you a lesson." She pulled a mean-looking battleaxe out from behind her back and attacked. "Spike! Faith! Blow out the candles and get rid of the magick stuff!" she exclaimed as she whalloped the demon, who, though large and muscular, was barely fighting back. She rolled her eyes and pouted as she chopped off the demon's head and the body melted into the grass. "Not much fun. But I love it when they clean up after themselves."
Faith walked up holding an ancient-looking manuscript. "Research time, B?"
"Later," Spike said tightly, coming up behind the two slayers and staking a vampire that had crept up to them unnoticed. "We've got company."
Turning, Faith's eyes widened and Buffy gasped in surprise. Before them stood at least twenty vampires, none of them fledglings. "Well this could be interesting," Buffy said under her breath.
"Slayer!" the biggest vampire, obviously the leader, exclaimed.
Buffy and Faith both spoke up. "What?" they replied tauntingly. Spike snickered.
The three of them took the moment of confusion among the vampires to attack. They staked several of the vampires before they started fighting back. Faith was thrown back, colliding with a gravestone. She slid to the ground, dazed. "Faith! Get up!" Buffy screamed as she flung a stake at one of the vampires who was preparing to pounce on the delirious slayer. She stood shakily, weakly fighting off another vampire. She shook her head and grinned, plunging her stake into its chest.
"Slayer!" Spike shouted. Buffy's head turned sharply toward him. He was surrounded by five vampires, and having a hard time controlling them. "A little help would be nice..." he exclaimed, frightened.
Buffy vaulted over to him, staking one of the vampires. Another of the vampires punched her in the temple, and the world went blurry for a few moments. It was enough. The vampire took her stake from her hand and tore into her throat, drinking of her. Spike struggled against the other four vampires, staking two of them. "Faith!" he cried. "Help her!"
The vampire was dust within seconds. Spike ran over to where Buffy lay, prone, on the grass. She was breathing shallowly, her eyes clouded. "Buffy," he whispered, pulling her to a sitting position and cradling her to his chest. "Come back to me, love." He brushed her hair from her face, then pressed on the freely bleeding wound in her throat. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. "Come on, Buffy."
"Sp-Spike?" she asked weakly, bringing a shaky hand up to his face. "You're crying."
"Come on, Spike. We need to get her to a hospital," Faith said from behind him, having finished off the vampires.
Spike nodded, standing and picking Buffy up, cradling her gently in his arms. They began walking from the cemetary at a rapid pace, arriving at Buffy's house in record time and putting her gently in the backseat. Spike tossed a black tee-shirt at Faith, who had climbed in beside her. "Keep this pressed to her neck," he said through his hiccuping sobs.
He got behind the wheel and sped off toward Sunnydale Memorial hospital, where he picked her up and ran into the emergency room with her cradled limply against his chest. "We need help!" Faith exclaimed. "Somebody, please..."
Buffy was placed on a stretcher and rolled into the emergency room. "We need blood, now," one of the doctors said loudly. "A positive."
The nurses hooked Buffy up to a heart monitor. Her heartbeat was faint and weakening. "Come on, let's move. We've got to stop the bleeding." A strong hand encased in a latex glove pressed sterile gauze to the wound in her throat. It soaked through almost immediately. "Shit, shit, shit," the doctor said as they applied a new piece of gauze.
Blood was rolled in and an IV needle was placed beneath the skin of her arm. They hooked up one of the bags, then a second. "Let's hurry it up here," the head resident said agitatedly as her heartbeat faltered. A high-pitched squeal filled the ER as Buffy flatlined.
"Start CPR," the resident ordered.
"One, one thousand, two, one thousand, three, one thousand," the nurse administering chest-compressions mumbled under his breath. Her heartbeat started back up after a few agonizing seconds, and it was slightly stronger now that there was fresh blood in her system. The doctor working on her neck pulled away the gauze once more. "What the..." they said, confused. The wound on her throat had almost completely healed over. "Okay... Doctor Thompson, you might want to come check this out. The neck wound completely closed."
"Fascinating," the resident murmured, examining her throat. They unhooked the blood bags and removed the needle from her arm, placing a piece of gauze over the hole in her skin and taping it down.
Buffy coughed and opened her eyes. She looked around alertly. "Where's Spike? And Faith?" she demanded, sitting up.
"Miss Summers, you're in the hospital. I'd like to talk to you about your remarkable healing process."
"Yeah, I know," she said, unhooking the heart monitor. "I've always been a fast healer." She hopped off the gurney and walked into the waiting room. Faith and Spike sat with melancholy looks on their faces. "Who died?" she asked perkily.
Spike leapt to his feet, rushing over and enveloping her in a fierce hug. "I almost lost you again," he whispered hoarsely. One hand threaded through her hair, as he sobbed against her shoulder. "Never do that to me again. Promise me..." he pleaded.
~*~*~
You are cordially invited to the marriage of William S. Jameson and Elizabeth A. Summers...
Author's Note: Phew. I wrote this one in one long sitting. I think I'm done. Yay happy sappy endings. Check out my other stuff. Today is POSTING DAY! HOORAY! I got a buncha stuff up today, and I'm all excited. Hope you are too... ::grin:: Feedback is good for the soul. Like chicken soup.