revelations3

DISCLAIMER: All hail Joss Whedon, UPN, the WB, FOX , Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox Film Corporation. Theirs not mine.

Suddenly, he is on me, in me. �My sweet girl, mine,� he growls, raising up my hips and driving deeper inside me. I clench my muscles around him, making him moan. �You�re mine to take, mine to fuck,� he growls. �No one else will ever touch you, never again.� His jaw sets, and I know he is already on the edge.

I tighten my hold on him, increasing the pace. Licking his neck, I can smell the blood under the surface. I crave it inside me, wanting it as much as the cock pulsing between my legs. Biting down hard on the throbbing vein in his neck, I drink deep, gulping greedily. The blood in my mouth is so rich, so good. Dimly, I feel a pain in my shoulder as Spike sinks in his fangs. We both come, groaning in unison.

My mind expands as knowledge pours into it. I gain the memories of well over a hundred years. Birth, love, fear, pain, death, filtered through the mind of someone I don�t know. I witness the birth of a vampire. I am flooded with the essence of Spike. Learning how to seduce, how to kill, how to hide. The rush to be gained from mortal fear, the thrill of the chase, the eternal temptation of blood, burn into me. I gain the shame of being helpless, the blooming of affection, the crush of rejection. I am filled with the light of hope, the ecstasy of the claiming and the triumph of love.

Suddenly, I am elsewhere. Turning around, I see that I am in Spike�s crypt. The windows are thrown open, flooding the room with light. Spike is lying on my bed in the center of the crypt. He naps like a cat, basking in the glow of direct sunlight. Walking around, I see a pitcher on a side table, blood pouring into two cups simultaneously. A weapons rack holds shining swords and brightly tipped arrows. Walking down the stairs, I venture into the lower crypt.

I am inside the chapel where the sleeping princess was. The roses are in bloom, filling the room with their scent. But the altar is gone. In its place is a large mirror on a stand. Standing before the mirror, I look into its depths. I see the ebb and flow of human life laid out before me. Generations are born, live, and die.

Tilting the mirror, I can see my reflection. Standing next to me is Spike. He is wearing chain mail, brandishing a sword. I realize my image is dressed in a long flowing gown, crown on my head. I hold a golden chalice in my hand. Cuffs and a chain connect our wrists. I turn my head away from the mirror, expecting to see Spike. But I am alone. I turn and leave the chapel.

I turn and leave the chapel and go back upstairs. This time, I pay more attention to the room around me. My trunk lies in the corner. A display case of miniatures is mounted on the wall. The people I love are there, laid out row after row, interspersed with many I don�t recognize. Picking up a smashed one, I reassemble the image. It is Drusilla.

A large wooden bookshelf is filled with volumes. They are bound in either black or white, titles lettered in gilt. I scan the titles: �Slayers�� Demons�� Fighting Moves�� Poetry�� Skating�� Magic�� Heaven�.

I turn back to the bed, where Spike still rests. Lying down with him, I rest my head against his, and sleep.

A knocking at the door wakes me up. Looking around, I am back in my room. Spike lies next to me, sleeping. Pulling on a robe, I cover him up with a blanket before opening the door.

Tara is standing there. �I�m sorry to disturb you, but you�ve been up here for a while now and Dawn is worried that something is wrong.�

I step out onto the hall, closing the door behind me. Tara looks at me. �You should straighten yourself up. You�ve got blood on your mouth.� Wiping it away with my hand, I wander into the bathroom. �Want me to slip in there and get you some clothes?� she offers.

I nod, brushing my teeth. Tara returns with a pair of underwear, a soft blue sweater and skirt, placing them on the toilet tank.

�That boy sleeps like the dead.� She turns and grins, then stares at me oddly. �Are you okay?� �I�m fine, Tara.� I tell her.

She really does look worried. �You look a little- weird.�

I take a good look at myself in the mirror. I look pale, and my eyes are bloodshot. Pulling my robe aside, I take a good look at the bite and bruising on my shoulder. They are barely visible. As I look at the injury, it heals completely, the black and blue marks fading away and holes disappearing. Tara gasps. �Buffy, what was that?�

�I�m not sure.� I try to sound reassuring. �It must have something to do with the bond. Super healing. Craving blood. It�s like parts of us are merging together. We are wed, literally.�

She is horrified. �But if you�d known. What it would mean. You�d never have- �

�I would have.� Don't do this, Tara. I owe you everything. You gave him back to me. �Whatever the consequences are. I just can�t lose anyone else I love, not again.�

She looks into my eyes, and sees the truth there. I see the strain leave her face. She gives me a searching look. �Are you going to be all right, Buffy? Do you even understand what this bond really is?�

�No. But I�ll figure it out.� I give her a weak smile. �I�ll be fine. Tell everyone I�ll be down in a minute.�

I shower quickly. Dressing myself in clean clothes, I comb my hair and put on a little makeup. Looking in the mirror, I see the same old regular Buffy. It�s like nothing has changed.

All of a sudden, I feel a chill down my spine. The chip. Spike hit Xander, and nothing happened to him.

On second thought, everything has changed.