The
Slayer and
Her Vampire
A/N...Huge thank you's to those that reviewed
and an extra special hug to anyone that didn't ask me about Joyce
needing an invite...for those that trusted me to address it in coming
chapters. I hope you enjoy this chapter...
Chapter
Fifteen
The Scooby gang and additional aging librarian were waiting for them in
a huddle of fear in the kitchen.
"Oh God, Buffy. I am so sorry. We should have taken better
precautions—" Giles floundered in the dark, not knowing what they could
have done to have prevented this horrible event, but feeling sure there
should have been some way if they'd but thought upon the problem a
little more in urgently. If they'd thought harder on all the possible
fronts Angelus could have made an impact.
"It's not your fault, Giles. We couldn't have predicted Angelus would
track her down and do this. Yeah, we knew it was a possibility, but how
could we have known he'd hunt her down in LA and abduct her from her
trip? I thought she was safe until she came home." Tears stuttered on
the brim of Buffy's eyes before she turned and allowed her body to be
fully enveloped by the only vampire that she'd known to have a heart.
And he loved her. Despite what was going on—despite the thoughts
running through her head that this was her fault for interfering in
vampire politics and kidnapping Spike in the first place—she felt
immensely grateful for that. Like she'd gained something important—and
possibly greater than what she'd lost.
"I don't get it. How'd she get in here anyway?" piped in Xander, ever
the voice of confusion.
"Ordinarily I would say that is exactly true. However, this house is
owned by Joyce. Therefore, with her dead, the house is rendered vacant.
No vampire will need an invitation. I suggest we find somewhere else to
stay before dark." Giles looked off into nothingness thoughtfully and
missing the identical masks of horror on Xander and Willow's faces.
"You mean Angelus could have been in here anytime and we'd all be dead
before we could wake up and know he was there?" Xander's high pitch was
most unbecoming and Giles awarded him the predictable grimace.
"It would certainly appear so," he confirmed, his own reactive shiver
rattling his veins.
"Yeah, 'cept for the wanker being too thick to work that part out
before he sent Joyce off to do his dirty work." Spike squeezed Buffy
reassuringly as she shook in his arms, marvelling at how tightly she
was holding onto her grief by the absence of a wet shirt sopping up
expected tears. She seemed to gather some inner reserve and pulled away
to look him deeply in the eyes, concern the uppermost emotion as she
asked the one thing he wished she'd not noticed.
"What did she do to you anyway? When I got there you were as all with
the statue impersonating while she was preparing to stake you. You
can't tell me that you're suddenly Suicidal Vamp." A sudden attack of
nerves caused her confidence to slip and Spike could see her growing
belief that she wasn't enough for him shadow her eyes. "Unless you are?
Oh God, would you rather be dust than—"
The quickest way to stop that thought derailment was with a kiss, and
Spike took great delight in seizing her lips in a hot kiss right in
front of her friends, hoping she could feel with his inappropriately
bulging jeans that dust was the last thing on his mind when she was in
his arms.
Buffy pulled away breathlessly, her body shaking for a whole different
reason as she licked her lips and fought against the glaze of lust that
had sized him up as sexy vamp needing to be taken now. A sudden scream
of irritation shattered the moment and Buffy was jolted back into the
real world—the one that had taken away her mother. That and the memory
of her previous question.
"Okay, so not wanting of the dusty end. So what gives?" Buffy stepped
back, arms crossed and foot tapping as she waited for Spike to admit
how he'd been caught out.
He stood stubborn, his jaw ticking as he looked into her determined
gaze and then released a great gushing breath of humiliated defeat.
"Right then. She bloody thralled me, all right? She called herself my
sister, so Dru is her sire and the barmy bint must have taught her how
to do it. Normally I can resist it, but I wasn't expecting her to try
and so I wasn't ready. Give a bloke some slack, Slayer." And in what
could only be an embarrassed shuffle, Spike spun on his black Doc
Martin heel and stomped into the living room. Buffy followed slowly
after him to the doorway, watching as he slumped angrily into a sofa
chair and flicked on the television.
Buffy turned back to the impromptu group meeting in the kitchen,
finding that she had absolutely no clue what to say about all of this.
She could have potentially killed everyone she loved last night—simply
because she felt like saving an evil vampire from what she saw as
unjust treatment. And because he'd stirred something inside of her that
she'd been too eager to hold onto rather than let it go. It had cost
her a mother and almost her friends. As a slayer, right now she totally
sucked.
"So, what's the plan? We have a plan, right?" Willow looked eagerly
around at the saddened faces and gulped her fear down.
"E-essentially, we need to relocate and then decide what to do about
J...Buffy's mother. We have to do something in regard to contacting
someone about ensouling Joyce and then things can go relatively back to
normal."
Buffy glared at Giles, the bile rising in her throat. "Relatively?
Relative to what exactly? 'Cause from what I remember, the gallery was
kinda open during the day. And can you see her with a nice shiny soul
re-hiring? Oh, and can you see the steady supply of blood around here?
What do I say to Dad?" The questions were all just bubbling to come out
of her mouth, righteous anger taking the place of grief that would
weaken her at a time when strength was sorely needed.
"Of course, that was a rather insensitive choice of words. I'm sorry,
Buffy. I wasn't thinking. I can't hope to even guess how you must be
feeling right now." Giles observed the girl he received daily miracles
from and felt like slapping himself for his unreasonable expectations.
A situation had presented itself and really they had no way of knowing
how to resolve it successfully. Righting Buffy's world would require a
hit and miss method that was going to be immensely emotional for a
time, and Giles could feel his sympathy for her increase tenfold. That
Spike was around and so strong a presence in her life seemed to
actually be an advantage and Giles just felt grateful she had some kind
of distraction to get her through the initial trauma of this moment.
Before Buffy could reply, the basement door flew open and cracked
against the kitchen wall, Joyce standing triumphant at the top of the
stairs with the chains dangling from the cuff at her wrists and cement
dust coating her clothes and hair.
"You have no idea the kind of damage pulling bolts out of brickwork can
do. Thank God I'm dead and I don't have to pay for fixing that." Joyce
Summers grinned maliciously around her fangs, eyeing each and every one
of them as some kind of meal on legs. Her gaze landed on Xander and she
just watched him silently as he squirmed, his fear highly pungent in
the air.
"Might want to tone the terror down a notch, Whelp," came an amused
holler from the living room, breaking Xander's concentration for a
doomed second. He turned back to the woman he'd considered a second
mother and found her almost snarling and ready to pounce.
Joyce's body leaned forward, her knees preparing to spring when she
loudly said "boo."
Xander warbled his panic and sprang immediately into action. He snagged
an apple and an orange in each hand from the bowl on the kitchen island
and pelted them weakly, watching the colourful fruit arc in the air
before Joyce caught them easily and laughed.
"You throw like a girl," she taunted, just as a garlic bulb landed in
her hands. Superstition had obviously not been bred out of her yet and
she startled, dropping the clove with a terrified yelp.
"Oh yeah," he called in challenge. "How 'bout this?" And he threw the
wooden bowl like a frisbee, bonking Joyce brutally on the forehead and
knocking her backwards off her feet. They all stood back in shock as
she screamed and windmilled her arms before tumbling fast down the
stairs to the basement floor. She thumped every step hard, Xander and
Willow flinching every time they heard her impact with each step. She
hit the bottom with a pained moan and before they could blink, Buffy
was back down there doing something to restrain her own mother.
"See those lovely big holes you put in the wall?" The Slayer's voice
easily carried up the stairs. "You wanna hope the sunlight doesn't come
in there in the morning or you'll be one very sorry pile of vamp dust."
"Oh Buffy," hissed Joyce in false saccharine concern. "Sweetheart, I
didn't know you cared."
"Yeah, I totally care. I'll show you how much I care." And without
seeing any of the basement action, the gathering in the kitchen heard a
sickening crunch and the newest vampire houseguest was silent. Buffy
stomped back up the stairs a few minutes later, a mission obviously on
her mind as she avoided everyone's eyes. She turned, shut the door and
bolted it closed.
"Okay, so about that plan..."
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Never in a million years could Spike have guessed he'd be bunked down
at the Watcher's comfy digs with a slayer curled provocatively around
his bits. They'd scored the couch and with the aid of a warm blanket,
Buffy had positioned him almost fully beneath her and was now blowing
warm air on his neck while her hand stroked his heat-seeking missile of
a cock. As she got cosier and licked a heavenly line up the side of his
neck, Spike used all his strength to tamp down his desire to growl. And
then she was at his ear, nibbling at the lobe while her hand ran a
mind-boggling expedition up the iron hard slant of his cock. The tips
of her fingers brushed erotically over his belly and Spike felt the
swell increase to almost painful proportions.
"Are they asleep?" she whispered right before she dived into the shell
of his ear with her slippery tongue. There was no holding back the
compulsive arch of his hips that slipped his length further up her
stroke. His brain was having trouble processing her question, but when
he finally did he switched on the vamp radar to find three relaxed
heartbeats and two quite disturbing sinus blockages.
Spike felt concerned that Buffy might be repressing the horror of her
mother's new identity, but who was he to tell her that using his body
as a distraction was a bad thing? The need to worry completely fled as
his hand found the soft swell of her bared breast and he gave it a
gentle squeeze, his eager thumb rubbing over the diamond point
repetitively in sync with her raspy breath.
"What do you want, baby? Tell your Spike?"
She kissed him, apparently dying to have his lips upon hers while she
continued to map out every vein protruding from the smooth surface of
his cock. He smiled devilishly against her lips, wanting to give into
the impulse to laugh—not in fun but for the pure blissful happiness
that washed over him every time he was in contact with such a miracle.
He felt playful, besotted and just so unbelievably lucky for a vamp.
And then she wiggled her hips and was straddling him, her unbearably
hot centre pressing against him but with a layer of cotton in between.
It was torture. It was exhilarating. He could feel her lips separate
around his cock, and then she was moving, letting him gouge a sodden
path over her cleft while he died a second death from her inferno. The
friction from her panties was enormously frustrating and Spike felt his
control snapping and snarling in his head to be free, to pound into her
like a vampire that meant business.
When his hands reached the silky skin low on her back and pressed onto
the slim slip of fabric, he felt ebullient at how easy it was. With an
unrepentant snap they were gone and he almost howled at the molten
juice that slicked his muscle all the way around and over again.
Grasping her hips hard, Spike changed her trajectory and he was finally
aiming in the right direction, a deep rumbling roar coming out as a
twisted garbled kitty mewl as her hot mouth devoured him whole and he
submerged completely into the tight depths of her body.
He could really get used to this risqué fucking in front of her
friends. Had to admit the prim and proper image of his little love
child had completely misled him. And God, he was beyond grateful for
that surprise.
"Spike?" Buffy looked him in the eye before darting a quick glance at
her snoozing friends on the floor and sat up on him, her face revealing
the ecstasy she felt at this decision as his cock stretched her and
nudged further at her womb.
"Yeah, luv?" he gasped before just giving into it all. He was beyond
questioning why this was happening—how it could feel so right when he'd
been happy with a hundred years of mediocrity.
"Fast or slow?" And to back up the question, Buffy alternated slow
glides up his throbbing length with a jarring descent.
He answered with his hands, gripping her hips in a desperate attempt to
control his thrusts before she blew his mind. He nudged her loose shirt
up her body and while his hands altered the speed of her gyrations, his
lips and teeth teased the hell out of her. That desire for happy
laughter returned with a vengeance as Buffy shook above him, as her
eyes rolled back in her head and he bumped repeatedly against her
little circle of nerves. His tongue tickled her nipple while his
fingers gave her a splayed bruise on her hips, but by the enormous grin
on her face, Spike felt secure in her satisfaction.
Under her shirt he could see the concave turn of her belly, the small
spread of pubic hair that brushed against the base of his cock and he
felt so much joy that he saw, he felt, he belonged.
He could feel her muscles tightening haphazardly around him, milking
him for a reciprocal response, and as Buffy leaned forward and neatly
licked his ear, she whispered 'I love you' and won it. He spurted hard
up inside her, feeling the energy of the explosion all the way to his
ears. Spike gripped her hips and slammed her down hard on his cock,
over and over as his essence splashed her walls.
He didn't stop exactly, even when he was spent. Gentle soothing motion
kept him inside her as they both calmed, Buffy relearning how to
breathe and Spike trying to blink out the haze of red that had burst
behind his eyes.
"You won't need a stake, Buffy. Your pussy is all the fire I need to
dust." His chuckle came to an abrupt halt at the look of horrified fear
that stood out on her face.
"Don't say that," she hissed, her eyes flashing green and wild.
And just like that the future of Joyce Summers was back in play.