32.
Epilogue
"I thought you said you trusted me, Spike,"
Buffy's teasing voice reminded the blonde vampire reproachfully, as she
quickly replaced her hands over his eyes, after his latest attempt to
pull away from her blinding hands.
He had, against his better judgment, agreed to let himself be led to
the "surprise" that she had waiting for him – but every few steps he
found himself instinctively trying to see where he was going anyway, a
bit uncomfortable with surrendering all control to *anyone* else – even
if it *was* Buffy.
"I do, pet," he insisted, a bit defensively, yielding to her with a
sigh of resignation as she pressed her warm, soft palms over his eyes
from her place, half behind him, half beside him, and started them
moving again. "It's just – there's so many bleedin' obstacles between
the – place where we started, and – wherever you're taking me – and I
don't fancy being led shin-first into your coffee table, or face-first
into your stairs."
"So what you're trying to say is," Buffy began in a voice that was a
sly parody of innocence, a tone that always told him that whatever the
argument was – he had lost it already, "you *don't* trust me not to be
careful where I lead you? You think I'm gonna let you get hurt?"
"No," he protested. "No, that's not – I mean..." Finally, he gave up
with a weary sigh. "Lead on, pet. I trust you."
He missed Buffy's little grin of satisfaction, but he could easily
picture it on her pretty, playful face, as she nodded, "Good." She
leaned in close behind him, rising up on her tiptoes to whisper in his
ear in a voice of playful seduction, "I *like* your face too much to
let it bash into the stairs."
He felt his arousal increasing at her nearness, the low sultry sound of
her voice, the scent of her own rising need for him.
Then her tone changed, as she drew back slightly and ordered lightly,
"Now come on. We're almost to – um, the stairs."
"The bleedin' *stairs*?" he echoed in disbelief. "*Buffy*," he groaned
– but it was more a sound of resignation and defeat than of actual
protest.
For better or for worse – his face and the rest of him *were* going up
those stairs.
"Do you trust me or not?" Buffy challenged him, albeit good-naturedly,
suddenly halting their process, he guessed a few short yards from the
stairs.
"Yes," he replied without hesitation, deliberately taking a step
forward toward them, though slow enough that her gentle hands were not
dislodged from his eyes. "As I said, pet – lead on." The words were
accompanied by a grand little flourish of his hand which was both
dashing and comical, considering his current position.
Buffy could not help but smile with affection at the romantic, sweet –
and devastatingly sexy – blonde vampire that she had come to know so
much better over the past few weeks. She almost couldn't believe that
she had allowed herself to come so close to losing what she now knew
was the best thing she had ever had.
Over the past few weeks, her new and improved relationship with Spike
had been growing stronger and stronger, as they increasingly allowed
themselves to give in to the emotions, the attraction, that consumed
them, giving themselves to each other freely, with an openness and
intensity that Buffy, at least, had never thought possible.
Spike, for his part, *had* dreamed of it – had made it clear to Buffy
that it was what he wanted from her – not just the physical connection
they had shared before, but emotional intimacy as well.
For too long, she had refused to allow it – and now, she would regret
that mistake for the rest of her life. She had taken his hope, his
cherished dreams of what they could share, and used those very dreams
to devastate and drive him away.
He had longed for her to invite him out of the darkness and into the
intimate sanctuary of her life, her home, her very room – and she had
used that very hope to shatter his trust in her.
Through painstaking effort, and a lot of heartfelt love and affection,
she had managed to earn back Spike's trust in her, and now it seemed
that they were well on their way to a happy, healthy, and *permanent*
relationship.
But there was still something she wanted to make right between them.
She had put a lot of planning into this night, into making it
everything it needed to be, to counteract the pain and uncertainty she
had initiated with her careless actions, nearly six months ago now.
Willow was staying over at Tara's – a common occurrence lately – and
she had sent Dawn to spend the night at Anya's apartment, as for once,
Xander was not going to be there, so Buffy would not have to worry
about Dawn's being scarred for life by the visit.
She didn't want to have to worry about anything tonight.
Tonight had to be perfect.
"Watch the first step," she instructed softly as they reached the
bottom of the stairs.
But Spike was a step ahead of her, and his foot hit the bottom stair,
sending him pitching forward, stumbling for balance, before righting
himself – Buffy's hands still clasped over his eyes firmly.
"Bloody hell, woman!" he growled. "What are you bloody trying to do to
me?"
"That was *so* -- step – not my fault. Step. I *told* you we were at
the steps...*step*!"
Again, her warning was a second too late, and Spike missed the stair in
front of him – and his time, Buffy's hands *did* leave his eyes as she
quickly lowered her arms to steady him, as he lurched forward and then
overcorrected backward in a motion that, if not for her Slayer strength
and balance, would have taken them both tumbling down the stairs.
Well – the three short stairs that they had actually managed to get up.
As it was, Spike found himself leaning back against her for a moment,
her hands gently resting at his waist, as he sighed wearily, yet
without opening his eyes.
"Buffy, love," he pointed out patiently, "I know we're going upstairs.
Why not just get *up* the bloody stairs, and *then* continue with your
cute little mysterious game, yeah?"
The pout was clearly heard in her voice as she replied with a sigh of
exasperation, "Fine. I just wanted to surprise you."
"Is the surprise waiting for me at the very top of the stairs, love?
Because if not, I don't see how it's a problem just to let me get to
the landing in one piece," he pointed out dryly.
Buffy was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke again, it was clear in
her voice that she was feeling a bit silly – and maybe a bit insecure
at the moment.
Spike wondered what *that* was about...
"Okay," she agreed, releasing him suddenly, and darting past him up the
stairs, before he had opened his eyes, causing him to wobble slightly,
his eyes flying open as he grabbed at the banister – just in time to
see the Slayer disappearing at the top of the stairs and down the
hallway. "Just – wait a second," she called over her shoulder, a slight
quaver in her voice.
Spike shook his head, smiling after her as he waited with surprising
patience on the stairs for Buffy to declare it safe to proceed.
She was just too bloody adorable.
After a couple of moments, he heard Buffy's slightly muffled voice call
from beyond her half-open bedroom door, "Ready!"
Spike had lived over a century, and was by no means inexperienced. His
most lengthy relationship – his *only* pre-Buffy relationship, actually
– had been with a very...er...open-minded woman, up for any sort of
experimentation, and usually initiating said experimentation herself.
He highly doubted that whatever Buffy had planned for him would come as
a true surprise.
Still, his breath caught in his throat as he stopped in the doorway to
her bedroom, his eyes widening in awe and stunned wonder.
On the dresser and the desk, various white candles had been lit, and
were filling the room with an almost ethereal glow – though the Slayer
had been careful to keep the candles far from the bed. For the
occasion, she had made her bed with a bedding set that Spike had never
seen before, probably brand new – in a dark, rich, blood-red silk.
The room was beautiful and warm and inviting.
Spike did not even notice the room.
Lying there in the middle of the bed, dressed in a deep red, satin
teddy that fell just barely around her hips, Buffy waited for him, her
hands above her head, one knee pulled up, as she quirked one eyebrow at
him in daring invitation.
Daring, indeed – she had handcuffed herself to her bed.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" she asked softly, her eyes shining
with a mixture of amusement, love – and an instinctive uncertainty that
she couldn't help feeling, no matter how much she trusted Spike.
Was he happy with what he saw?
"No bloody clue," he replied in a soft, breathless voice, shaking his
head, as he approached her, crystal blue eyes searching her face in
wonder. "Buffy – love – what...?"
"The key's on the dresser across the room. I couldn't get to it if I
tried..." Buffy explained in a quiet, matter-of-fact voice. "I'm here
until you want me to be somewhere else, Spike. All yours."
He was well aware of the double meaning of her words, and he felt a
warm, soft sensation in his chest as he slowly climbed onto the bed in
front of her, moving to lean over her on his hands and knees, as she
lowered her leg to allow him to move in closer. Her unusually soft
emerald eyes searched his in return, a question in them at the suddenly
serious look on his face.
"Buffy..." he began, then just shook his head slowly, not going on.
"What?" she prodded gently, pulling unconsciously against her
self-inflicted bonds, wanting to touch him, to attempt to feel what he
was feeling. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing...nothing's wrong, love – it's just..." Spike hesitated, looking
down for a moment at the vision that she was, willingly laid out for
him – undeniably tempting...but...
"Why are you doing this?"
The uncertain question came out in a hushed whisper, barely audible,
and she could see the fear, the confusion in his eyes – and suddenly,
Buffy was sure she had made an enormous mistake. Was this dramatic,
symbolic gesture, intended to show him how much she had changed, how
willing she was to give herself to him completely, simply too much? Too
painfully reminiscent of the last – only – terrible night they had
spent in this room?
"I – I trust you, Spike," she began in a slightly trembling voice,
attempting to explain, a pleading look in her eyes. "I want you to know
that – that I trust you completely. With my life. With my heart. With
everything. I'm *yours*, Spike. I just – I guess – it's stupid, I
guess," she admitted in a small, defeated voice, looking away.
"I – I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..."
"*Buffy*."
His quiet, firm voice stopped her protests, and she reluctantly met his
gaze again. He could see the tension in the dejected set of her
shoulders against the handcuffs that held her arms above her head –
knew that she had misunderstood his reaction.
"Don't be sorry, love – I understand," he assured her with a warm,
tender smile. "It's just – you don't have to do this. I – I'd *rather*
have you – free – free to – to touch me back," he explained, his voice
taking on a hushed, sensual quality as his hand slid up her leg to rest
at her hip.
Buffy drew in a sharp little gasp as his hand slid just slightly under
the hem of her skimpy little nightgown, and she edged nearer to his
touch.
"I just – just wanted you to know...I trust you, Spike – I do," she
whispered, sounding more than a little distracted as his hands began a
slow, gentle exploration of her still barely covered body.
"I know," he murmured, moving in closer, gently lowering his body down
over hers, his hands sliding up under the teddy to rest on either side
of her ribcage, as he lowered his mouth to hers in a slow, tender kiss.
"And it means the world to me, pet..."
"Mmmm," she whimpered softly in a mixture of contentment and
frustration, pulling against the handcuffs. "Spike..."
"Yes, pet," he whispered before lowering his lips to her throat, his
teeth closing over her skin in a playful little nip that drew another
gasp from her throat.
"Cuffs – off – now," she gasped, jerking against her bonds and
thrusting up toward him in her desire.
Spike's motions stilled for a moment as he drew back to look at her, a
teasing sparkle in his wicked blue eyes. "You sure, love?" he asked,
eyes suddenly wide and innocent. " 'Cause you know...handcuffs can be a
lot of fun..."
"Spike," she said with an edge of warning to her voice, her eyes
meeting his, full of desperation and desire as her fingers flexed in
anxious anticipation of touching him. "*Now*."
"Now, pet," he replied in a gently reproachful voice, his full, perfect
lower lip jutting out in a pout that only made him that much more
tempting, "not very courteous of you, rather bloody demanding,
actually...let's see if you can ask nicely..."
"Spike," she whispered, her tone instantly changed, when she realized
with slight alarm that he really could leave her like this as long as
he wanted.
And she *needed* to touch him.
"*Please*," she whimpered. "Please, Spike..."
"All you had to do was ask," he informed her, leaning down to kiss her
briefly on the tip of her nose, smiling innocently, before rising from
the bed to retrieve the key from the dresser.
The moment her wrists were free, the Slayer surprised him with a
possessive little growl of desire and triumph, grabbing his arms and
suddenly reversing their positions so that she was over him, her eyes
glittering with a wicked amusement – but still sparkling with her
affection for him.
She straddled his waist, leaning down over him, her hands trailing up
to his wrists as she brought her lips close to his ear to whisper in a
voice of playful menace, "You're gonna pay for that." She punctuated
her words with a light little nibble on his earlobe, drawing a little
shudder from the vampire before she drew back slightly.
"Am I?" he shot back, one eyebrow raised, as he thrust upward against
her suddenly, sending a jolt of sensation through her body that threw
her off guard, long enough for him to reverse their positions again,
pinning her gently beneath him. "Come on, Slayer," he taunted her
gently. "Teach me a lesson."
"I plan on it," she retorted, her smile open and utterly in contrast to
her words as her eyes gazed into his with unconcealed adoration, "just
as soon as I can think straight again..."
Spike chuckled softly, lowering his mouth to hers again – and the game
melted away, consumed by their mutual affection and desire, as he slid
the teddy she wore up over her shoulders, baring her body to him. She
was already at work on the button of his jeans, gasping softly for
breath as she looked down between them, frowning slightly in
concentration.
Once they were both naked, exposed to each other – but neither feeling
particularly vulnerable – they froze for a moment, lost in each other's
eyes...just taking the moment, and holding it, placing it away somewhere
where they would always have it.
The moment when everything came together again.
When Spike entered her a moment later, the moment was shattered, though
in the best of ways.
And Buffy shattered with it.
Her trembling, desperate hands clung to him, pulling him nearer to her,
as she gasped and moaned her desire for him, whispering his name in a
breathless chant of need and adoration.
"I love you," she whispered, "I love you so much..."
Those words drove Spike's desire higher than any physical touch could
have done, and he gasped as he thrust inside her again, moaning softly,
"Buffy – Buffy, love – love you so much..."
The rising sensations of pleasure and intimacy drew Buffy ever nearer
to the edge of her own climax, as she clung to her lover as if she were
drowning, and he the only one who could save her.
"Buffy," he gasped, his motions slowly slightly, as he looked into her
eyes through hazy blue depths of desire. "Buffy – do you trust me?"
"You know I do," she replied without hesitation, holding his gaze
unflinchingly. She did not know where he was going with this, could
hardly think to imagine at the moment, but she sensed it was huge and
life-changing and very important.
And she was unafraid.
"With your very life? Forever?" he asked her in a breathless, earnest
whisper, his eyes wide and vulnerable – and she knew that if she said
no, it would be terribly painful for him.
That was okay. She didn't want to say no.
"Forever," she whispered with a resolute nod. "I trust you completely,
Spike. With everything I am – forever. I'm yours."
His eyes widened slightly at her words, and he nodded slowly in
response, and she watched as a decision was made in his mind. He
lowered his mouth to her throat again, resuming their slow, rhythmic
movements as he laved her soft skin with cool, moist kisses.
"Love you, Buffy," he whispered against her skin between kisses. "Love
you – trust me..."
And in the next moment, she felt a sharp, piercing sting, that lasted
only an instant, immediately swallowed up in a deep, intense sense of
pleasure like nothing she had every felt before, as the vampire drew
gently from her veins.
And still – she was utterly unafraid.
Buffy's hand rose to the back of his head, pressing him gently nearer
to her, her throat arching to allow him better access. "Spike," she
whispered. "Spike..."
"Love you, Buffy," he repeated. "Want you to be mine...forever...will you
be mine, Buffy?" he whispered, withdrawing his fangs long enough to ask
the vital question.
"Already am," she replied immediately. "Yes – yours, Spike...I'm yours..."
His golden eyes, no less beautiful than the blue she was accustomed to,
stared into hers with something that was almost disbelief – but not
quite. He *did* believe her. And then, he lowered his fangs to her
throat again, slipping them into the marks he had made again – just
after a soft, possessive growled word.
"*Mine*!"
"Yours," Buffy replied with soft certainty, clutching her lover – now
her mate – to her as if she never wanted to let go.
And she felt a sense of sweet contentment wash over her, with the
realization that she would never have to.
They had come down a long, winding, and treacherous road to get to this
point – but they had arrived. She knew beyond all doubt that he would
never hurt her – and finally, he could know with a certainty that he
could place the same trust in her. There would be struggles, of course
– and it would not always be easy.
But they would always have their love, never changing, for each other –
forged in the fires of trial and heartache, yet emerging stronger for
the flames, fortified with a firm foundation of mutual trust.
No matter what happened – they would always have each other.
And she knew, in that moment, that that was all either of them would
ever need.