| * * * * * (con't) They found Giles sitting at the kitchen table eating a can of cold chipped beef with a spoon. He was chewing thoughtfully while staring at several small blue glass bottles and one very small red bottle sitting on the table in front of him. “Ah…you’re back. Care for a bit of nourishment?” he said, waving a spoonful of beef toward them. “No!” they both exclaimed. “Well, all the better for me. Look what I’ve found,” he pointed to one of the blue bottles. “What do you suppose these are?” Spike picked up a bottle and examined the label, “Transition Phase I,” he read out loud, “One teaspoon, to be taken nightly.” He sat down and looked at Giles. “When I first arrived here, Bert gave me something he called ‘a little transitional drink.’ Said it was part blood, part whiskey and a spot of protein powder. Lovely stuff. Drank it every night.” His faced paled and he set the bottle quickly down on the table. He picked up the small red bottle. On the tiny label, in almost indecipherable script, was written ‘For Emergencies.’ * * * * * “Spike, I’ve been thinking about this ‘will’ problem. I’ll see what I can do while I’m here, but I do think you should consider keeping a small portion for Buffy and,” his face reddened, “the little one…in case something happens to you and…” “Nothing is going to happen to Spike!” Buffy interrupted. Spike put his arm around Buffy and pulled her next to him. “He’s right love. Much as I hate to take anything from Bert, probably wouldn’t hurt to set a bit aside, you know, for emergencies,” he said quietly, and he stared at the red bottle on the table before him. “What about everything you said to me, about ‘blood money’ and all? I can live without it.” “Thing is, pet, we don’t know exactly where we’re headed, do we? Not fair to the little one,” he glanced over to Giles. “But William…” “Will and I had a bit of a chat while you were rescuing me from the bees, love. William will be right with this. We just need to be careful,” he said firmly. “Not really sure if Bert is actually dead…dusted, that is. Just want to get you home, with me,” he smiled up at her. “We’ll let the Ripper handle it, shall we? I imagine he’ll have fun tormenting all those legal toffs.” Buffy leaned over and gave him a soft kiss, and he started to pull her down into his lap. “Well that’s settled. I should get on with it. Dawn and Willow will be frantic. I told them I’d call last night.” Giles stood up abruptly. “Oh, dear, I forgot. I promised Dawn to tell you first thing, that is, if I found you both alive…” he laughed a little hysterically at the double meaning of his words. “Well, the good news is that Demon is going to have kittens. Don’t suppose there’s a working phone in this house?” And, avoiding their eyes, he walked past them out of the kitchen. * * * * * To their surprise, the phone was working. Buffy spoke with Dawn and Willow, assuring them that both she and Spike were fine and would be coming home soon with some exciting news. Spike spoke briefly with Dawn who excitedly gave him the details about Demon’s impending motherhood. “How come we all thought he was a he and now she’s a she? “Well, li’l bit,” he laughed, “you never can tell with cats, them having so many lives and such.” “And the vet says she’s going to have just two kittens, twins!” “The little hussy. Know who the dad is, Niblet? I’ll give ‘im what for,” he joked. He handed the phone back to Buffy, who spoke briefly with Willow. She had a bit of a worried look on her face as she hung up the phone. “Something wrong?” He asked. “No, no, I don’t think so, but Willow says she found some information about Dawn. I asked her to do a little research for me before I left. She didn’t want to tell me over the phone, with Dawn listening.” * * * * * Giles made several phone calls and set things in motion. He’d made an appointment with the lawyers, and said he’d have to leave in a half hour, but would return in the evening. “You might want to look around. I’ve made a list for you of the personal and household items that Bert willed you. Take a look and decide what you want to keep.” Giles handed a piece of paper to Spike. They sat in the library watching Giles pack the will and some other papers, on which he’d been making notes, into his bag. Giles paused for a moment, and then, looking over at Spike and Buffy, he picked up the book on the Sinclair family and quickly tucked it into his bag, “This…ah… might be useful.” Spike walked with him to the door of the library where they had a brief conversation out of Buffy’s hearing. “Do this for her, if you won’t do it for me,” Spike said in a hushed voice. * * * * * After Giles left, the sky began to cloud over again, and the temperature began to drop. “Let’s eat something before we tackle this list. I’m growling,” she smiled rubbing her stomach. “Looks like it’s going to rain again. It’s a bit nippy in here,” he said looking out the library window. He shivered a bit. “I think I’ll go upstairs and light the fire. You bring food.” “Please?” “Oh please, milady,” he teased as he went upstairs. They ate their meal in silence. Spike seemed a bit pre-occupied but Buffy was ravenous and hadn’t time for conversation. “I can’t believe how starved I am. I could eat for hours! And you’re not eating much.” She shoved a can of peaches toward him. “You really need to eat,” she insisted. “I’m getting full just watching you. Makes me a bit queasy,” he teased. “Anyway I’m feeling sleepy here. You know I’m usually all tucked in and peaceful at this time of day. Feel like a bit of a nap,” he yawned and then started choking. “What was that!” “That was a yawn,” she laughed. She put down her cup, and took his hand and pulled him to his feet. “Let me tuck you in.” “Coming with?” he asked. “Well…” she said, looking back at one of the bars of chocolate sitting on the table. “It’ll wait. I need you near me love.” They undressed, climbed into bed and snuggled into each other’s arms. Spike gave Buffy a slow, sleepy smile. “Nite sweetness,” he took a deep breath, drinking in her scent. He rubbed his cheek against her soft hair and promptly fell asleep. Buffy lay next to Spike listening to him breathe. It was so strange to hear the soft rush of air coming from his slightly opened lips. She kissed his lips, so warm and full, rose colored with the pulse of blood just beneath his skin. He was really alive. She felt the miracle of it deeply in this moment. How strange it must be for him. Then she remembered her resurrection, and his words to her after Willow brought her back...his grief at failing to prevent her death –‘Every night …dozens of times, lots of different ways…every night I save you.’ “Every night I save you,” she whispered. * * * * * Quietly I wait Waiting becomes me Patience is my art I can out last minutes Hours, years I can conquer time Quietly I wait I am all ice and eons I am bound in stone Waiting for the touch A fire To set me free * * * * * “Every night you save me,” she whispered. She closed her eyes and fell asleep listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. * * * * * She was walking down a busy street with people and cars flowing in an endless noisy stream around her. She had somewhere to go, but for the moment she just couldn’t exactly remember where or why. She paused on a street corner trying to decide which direction to choose. Someone bumped into her from behind, making her nearly lose her balance. “Excuse me, love, are you lost?” she turned to the familiar voice. “Spike!” she cried with relief. “Spike?” the man before her asked with a puzzled expression. “You’re Spike!” she cried again. “I’m very sorry, miss, but you’re mistaken. My name is William.” “But you’re Spike,” she protested, getting slightly agitated and drawing curious looks from the people passing by them. She grabbed his arm and pulled him back toward one of the buildings on the side of street. “What have you done with Spike?” she whispered fiercely. William shook his arm, trying to escape her iron grip. They struggled for a moment, and then she pressed him back against the rough brick wall of the building and suddenly kissed him. He pushed her away and stood panting from the effort to free himself. As he regained his breath, a strange look passed over his face. “Elizabeth?” he said with a bit of a catch in his voice. He stared into her eyes, and she saw a flicker of recognition. “Elizabeth, it’s really you. You’ve been lost—lost to me for so long. I’ve been searching for you. I’ve been waiting for you to come back to me.” Buffy took a few steps back and shook her head. “William, I think this is a dream.” “You mean I’m not real? You feel real to me.” He reached out for her hand, and he placed it against his cheek. “Real. Come with me. Come with me now. I know where you have to go...something you have to do. There’s someone you need to meet.” He pulled her down the street. Soon they were running through streets, up alleys, through small parks. It seemed they were leaving the city and running through more country like roads and lanes. The houses were farther apart, and soon they were running past small farms and lonely cottages skirting the edge of a vast forest. “Where are we going, William?” Buffy cried. It seemed they’d been running for hours, but she wasn’t tired. He turned as he ran before her and gave her an exuberant smile. “We’re almost there,” he laughed. His cheeks were rosy red from running and his softly curled hair, tousled and wild in the wind. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. “It’s just a dream, just a dream,” she kept chanting to herself, but she followed him anyway. They came to the edge of the forest, and William slowed to a walk. They found a well worn path. It was too narrow for them to walk side by side, but William still clasped her hand tightly, and she followed closely behind him. The trees were so dense that they almost blocked out the sun, which filtered down through the thick canopy of leaves, and filled the air with a soft green light. Suddenly the trees thinned, the light grew stronger and they stepped into an open meadow, with a small stream winding through it. The stream flowed into a pond, thick with rushes, cattails and edged with water lilies. A magnificent, ancient oak tree stood next to the pond. It was the most enormous tree that Buffy had ever seen. It was at least ten times larger than the oak on the Sinclair ranch, the tree under which Spike had left his farewell note and the silver ring. William led her across the meadow until they were standing under the thick branches of the tree. He stood silently before the tree and pulled her closer to him, his strong arms encircling her. The air became thick with the flow of life emanating from the tree. It circled around them and she could almost see the soft silvery waves of energy spiraling around them pulling them closer and closer together. “It’s time, Elizabeth,” he said softly, and gave her a soft kiss. He pulled her down onto the bed of leaves and spring grass under the tree. “It’s time, love,” he murmured against her lips. He undressed her carefully, almost delicately, as if she was a sacred object to him. She undressed him in the same way, wondering at the tenderness which lay beneath his obvious physical strength. They lay naked before each other: staring deeply into each others’ eyes, falling into each others’ eyes, drowning in the sweet passion which had risen between them. He placed his hand on her breast, and caressed her gently. Her heart beat wildly at his touch, and she felt she couldn’t breathe with the emotion that was rising up inside her. “It’s just a dream—just a dream.” she repeated, trying to breathe, and then she glanced down at his hand, and she saw that he was wearing Spike’s silver ring. “Love,” he said, “you’ve come home to me.” And he covered her with the full length of his body and, kissing her deeply, he entered her with a slow thrust, spreading her, opening her, filling her with the exquisite beauty of his maleness, his scent, his tongue, his hands and cock…filling her, completing her. He began to move wildly against her, pressing her deep into the grass and leaves. She felt him falling so deep into her heart and psyche as he made this sweet, sacred love to her. She cried his name, wept his name, over and over, “William.” * * * * * “William,” she called, as she felt the leaves beneath her turn into the softness of a feather bed. “William,” she cried. She woke up to find Spike on top of her and moving fiercely inside her, his head bent down next to her face with a strange, distant look in his eyes. “It’s me. It’s Spike,” he growled. * * * * * I am ready to be born into sunlight a bloody birth of light pulling fire from its heart a birth as wet and deep as the midnight ocean a birth as hard as living * * * * * “It’s me, It’s Spike,” he growled. He pressed his face up against hers and forced her to stare into his eyes. “Spike,” he thrust into her, pressing her deep into the bed, “Tell me who you see,” he demanded and slowly withdrew himself from inside her. “Who do you feel?” he thrust into her again, ignoring her cry of fear. “Who do you feel?” he screamed, and she felt him shoot into her. His come was cool as it pulsed inside her. She pressed her hands against his chest, trying to push him off her, but he was a dead weight as he lay sprawled over her. He’d come, yet he was still tense, poised and taut with anger. She dug her fingernails as hard as she could into his chest. “Get off!” “Bloody hell!” he cried and rolled off her, turning away from her. “I think I’m going mad,” he said in a hopeless voice, and he pulled the covers up over his head. The low sound of thunder echoed through the silent room, which grew dark as the oncoming storm clouds completely covered the pale afternoon sun. They lay in silence as the storm broke and the rain began beating furiously against the bedroom windows. The room was suddenly chilly. The fire had burned down to low embers. A gust of wind moaned through the poorly sealed window frames. Buffy lay still. She didn’t want to move…didn’t want to even touch his body. She was stunned and overwhelmed by the difference between her dream state and waking state. She felt such a wave of sad longing for the man in her dream. Where was he now? How could he take her to such a beautiful place, make her feel so loved and then just disappear or perhaps he’d just morphed into the jealous demon of a man who just ravaged her. A nightmare. She had a sense of deja-vu and then she remembered the strange waking dream she’d had in the motel in Berkeley. It was exactly her nightmare come true. “Is he forcing me to choose?” she thought sadly. “I can’t choose for him. I can’t make him become anything. That’s his job, not mine.” But she remembered William’s touch and the joyful expression on his face during their exhilarating run toward the forest. William was so absolutely alive and Spike was… “Spike, you’re cold.” she touched his shoulder. “Not cold. You’re the cold one. Cold bitch. Leave me alone. Don’t touch me.” “No Spike…I mean you’re really cold, almost vampire cold.” He pulled the covers down and looked at her with despairing eyes. “I’d rather be dead that watch you make love to another man.” “There is no ‘other man’ Spike. It’s you. It’s all you. He’s you.” “Yeah, well, it’s too late now, ‘cause I’m all cold and dead again, and that bloody wanker won’t ever use my body again to get to you.” “If you touch me like that again, well, let’s say it’s not going to be pretty. What’s wrong with you?” she asked. “Don’t know. I don’t know who or what I am anymore. Feel so lost here, so angry…I’m so sorry, don’t want to hurt you love. I’m afraid. What did Bert unleash inside of me?” “You have to face this, Spike, and I can’t do it for you.” “I want to do this for you. Want to be with you forever love. I don’t know if I can. I feel the demon in me. I feel his hatred of William. Is the demon me?” He pushed off the covers and slowly ran his hands down his body. “Don’t do it for me Spike. Do it for yourself.” “But I’ve been Spike for so long. Don’t know how to be William. Thought I could handle this. And I feel like something’s wrong inside me, in here.” He pressed the back of his head with his hand. “What do you mean something’s wrong? In your head? Your chip…” Buffy’s voice faded into silence. “Yeah,” he turned away from her and stared up at the ceiling. “What, what is it?” “Last night, when Giles and I were arguing, I almost hit him, started to swing out at him, and I didn’t feel anything. No pain.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” “Didn’t want to scare you love.” “Are you sure it’s not working?” she asked. “Yeah I’m sure. Maybe it just blew up, you know, not meant to work in a human, in all that heat.” She put her arms around him and held him tightly. His skin was cool, not as cold as before his transformation, but definitely not a normal human temperature. His whole body stiffened at her touch, as if he couldn’t surrender himself to her...couldn’t bear her touch. “Everything’s moving way too fast for me. Feel like I’m falling down through a dark hole with no bottom in sight. And you…you love him, I can’t bear it.” “I do love you. You.” She pressed her cheek against the cool skin of his shoulder. “But the look on your face when you called his name...” He gave a deep sigh. “It felt like you were making love to another man right in front of me.” “But you’re him. He’s you. He’s always been there inside of you. I thought it’s what you wanted. Thought it was you coming to me, introducing me to William, in a very sexy, Spike-ish way,” she gave him a soft kiss. “Why do you think I can’t love you both? Maybe we should stop talking about ‘Spike’ and ‘William’ as if you were really two people. Maybe you need a new name. How about Francis?” she gave him a small smile and patted his stomach. “Bloody stupid name, Francis,” he gave a small laugh. “And Spike,” she pulled his face close to hers, “let’s worry about the chip later, ok? ‘Cause remember it hasn’t worked with me for a long time and you were able to control yourself with me. You never hurt me, even in full blown vamp mode.” He placed his hand over hers. He shivered, “Ah love I’m so cold, so cold and hungry.” She climbed on top of him and pulled the covers up over them. She could just barely see his eyes under the darkness of the soft womb of cloth and skin she placed about him. “Remember what Bert said. You need to drink me sometimes to maintain your transition.” She began to kiss his lips and lick his cool skin, warming him, caressing him with every inch of her body. He put his arms around her and held her tightly. “Oh Francis,” she murmured in a slightly exaggerated tone of arousal. Spike opened his eyes and saw her staring at him. Her eyes danced with a sweet laughter. He gave a little growl of pleasure. “You’re bad. You’re the demon in this bed, Slayer.” “Don’t ever forget it. Slayer here. Superhuman powers.” She bit down on her lip, breaking the skin. She let her blood flow down onto his lips. She raised her hips slightly and slid him inside her, enveloping him in her wet warmth. “Drink baby,” she said softly. “Drink me love.” * * * * * As the storm raged outside, he drank, and was nourished and warmed by her love. William and Spike merging together inside her love. Bathing in her love, swimming in her love which was strong enough, powerful enough to help him gather the tangled fragments of his selves and weave them together into one unbreakable heart. Satiated at last, he gave her a tender kiss, and she watched over him as he fell into an exhausted, dreamless sleep. She thought of the forest and the tree which had swirled its innocent energy of life around her and William. She pictured herself there with this brave being, that lay beside her, in the bed. She wished that she could show him this beauty, share this beauty and let him heal from the hundred years of desperation that had been his life as a vampire. “William must be the one to take him there,” she thought. * * * * * When he awoke, he was warm again, his cheeks flushed. The rain still pounded outside and the wind had risen to almost gale strength. “Wonder where Giles is?” he asked her. “Out of this storm, I hope,” she said. “Are you feeling better? Ready to sort things out downstairs and go home?” She had a sudden urge to just get out of the house and away from the storm of emotions and fears that had driven them for the last few days. “I miss Sunnydale,” she said. “And Demon, and Dawn and I need clean underwear!” “No need for underwear when I’m around, love.” He stroked the soft naked curve of her hips. “Yeah, you’d like to burn all my clothes and keep me naked all the time, wouldn’t you?” “Where do you get these ideas Slayer? Thought you were all innocence?” “Very innocent until I met you,” she laughed. “Let’s go. Come on let’s get this over with.” * * * * * They found the list on the table in the library. Buffy snuggled into one of the library armchairs and listened as Spike read the list to her. 1- All books in the main library. 2- Set of china in the dining room sideboard 3- Tapestries in the Ballroom 4- One painting hanging in Bert’s bedroom 5- Pink dress Here he paused and gave her a stern look, “Would’ve taken it anyway, love. It’s my deepest fantasy forever to see you twirling around in that.” He smiled and added, “Minus the underwear of course.” She laughed, “Go on, finish it up!” 6- Case of premium Scotch 7- Strand of pearls 8- Case of special elixir in the kitchen pantry 9- Keys to the property in Sunnydale 10- Silver chest and contents – in Ernest’s bedroom closet – key to this chest is located in the master bedroom of the ranch house in Sunnydale. 11- All other contents of the house and the house itself has been willed to the “Sinclair Foundation for Aged Beings” “Aged Beings—pretty ambiguous…sounds like a front group for a bunch of doddering old demons and vamps, ya think?” “Sounds like.” she smiled. He read the final note that Giles had written at the bottom of the list: ‘And that’s it except for the money and the property down in Sunnydale.’ * * * * * They were in the basement hunting for the case of scotch when the phone rang. Spike ran upstairs to answer it. It was Giles. “I’m going to be running late. In fact, I think I’ll just check into a hotel down here next to the lawyer’s office. I need to meet with them again in the morning. Will you two be ready to leave tomorrow about noon?” “Not sure we want to stay another night in this house,” Spike answered, “but I guess we have no choice. We’ll be ready. Everything work out? Did you do what I asked?” Giles replied in the affirmative. “Everything ok there? Any problems?” Spike paused before answering. “Yeah, don’t worry ‘bout us, mate. Buffy’s got me all organized here, running about like her bloody servant. See you tomorrow.” He hung up the phone and went back down to the basement where he found a very dusty Buffy trying to pry open a small intricately carven, wooden door underneath the staircase. “I found the scotch, love, it’s over there by the furnace. What do you think you’re doing?” Spike asked. “Look at this door. I wonder what’s in here?” She gave it a strong pull and the doorknob broke off in her hand. “Don’t know, don’t care. You’re a nosy thing…always poking and prying into things. Leave it be Slayer. Some doors were meant to stay closed.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the case of scotch. “Why don’t you use your superhuman strength and haul that baby upstairs.” Several hours later, they had gathered most of the items on the list into the library. “Can’t fit all this in my car,” she laughed. “Shall we buy a truck?” “You’re pretty free with my money, love. Did you ever hear of U-Haul?” The last item they found was the painting. “It’s her,” Buffy said. “It’s the woman in the turquoise dress, but that’s not the man who was with her.” The man and woman in the painting were dressed in the elegant, formal fashion of the last century. The man could have been Spike’s twin. “It’s my father.” he said quietly. * * * * * He carefully removed the painting of his parents from the wall and they carried it downstairs to the library. Spike placed it against one of the bookcases with the image of his parents facing inward. They sat down in the armchairs next to the library fireplace and surveyed the collection of treasures they’d gathered. “Not sure if I want these things,” he said. “They smell like death, of things past, and of things best forgotten.” “But the painting? Your parents, surely…” “Don’t want to think about them now,” he said a bit harshly. “You can decide later,” she said. “Sell them when we get to Sunnydale if you like. I just want to have a clean break with this place,” she shivered. She stood up and went over to the silver chest they’d placed on one of the reading tables. “Wonder what’s in here?” She poked at the large horseshoe shaped padlock. “This is a strange looking lock. Pretty solid, but I could open it, if you want.” “No love. Let’s just leave it ‘til later. Aren’t you a bit hungry?” “Starved. But I don’t think I can stand another meal out of a can,” she said. “The phone’s working. How ‘bout I get you a bit of pizza?” “You’re a god, I will worship you forever,” she laughed. An hour later, they were happily eating pizza while sitting side by side on the floor before the fire in their bedroom. “Something to drink, pet?” he asked. “Scotch?” She said. He gave her a long look, “No Scotch for you. You have to think about my babies now.” “You mean your baby.” “No, I mean babies.” “What are you saying?” “Twins.” “And just how do you know that?” “Felt it when I was drinking your blood love: two babies, twins, twin sons, very feisty…” “Twins? Boys? Oh god.” She glanced down and placed her hands upon her stomach, “Hello there,” she said, and then looking up at Spike, who was gazing at her with not a little apprehension, she gave him a shy smile. “And how do you know they’re feisty?” “Stands to reason, love, seeing as you’re their mum.” He put his arm around her and pulled her close. “Elizabeth Summers I love you,” he said in a low voice. “Will you always remember that?” “Always…you’ll be there to show me. Right?” Spike didn’t reply. He just ran his fingers lightly through her hair, and stared thoughtfully into the fire. He remembered the first night they slept together and how he’d felt in the morning. The sadness of believing that he’d never be able to walk with her in sunlight, or give her children, give her joy had overwhelmed him. The memory of the sadness that had driven him away from her that day, made him think of William loving her. Seeing her now, seeing the happiness that poured from every inch of her body and from her heart; seeing the happiness, that together, he and William had finally given her, he felt that somehow life, perhaps, had forgiven them both. * * * * * “You’re filthy.” “Yeah, well you’re no sweet thing yourself.” He stood up and stretched out his arms. “I absolutely refuse to take a cold bath. You go ahead. You seemed to enjoy it last night. ‘Specially the getting warmed up afterwards part,” he laughed. “But we can heat up some water. Look.” She held up the large iron kettle she’d used to make tea the night before. “Doesn’t look like it’d hold enough water to wash my left foot,” he grinned. “You’d need to heat about seven of those to fill that tub. And there’s not much wood left up here.” She gave him a pleading look. “Am I your slave or what?” he smiled. “My slave. I saw a huge pile of wood down in the basement, just under the stairs. Pleeease.” He went down to the basement and found the pile of wood tucked into a dark corner beneath the stairs just has she said. He started to bend down to pick up a log, and then he paused, suddenly alert to the sensation of not quite being alone. He stood unmoving. The silence thickened around him and then he heard it: a small, hollow, scratching sound. It was oddly familiar, but he just couldn’t place it. “What is that?” he thought, tilting his head slightly, trying to locate the origin of the sound. “Just a rat—a rat in the wall.” He shrugged his shoulders, trying to shake off the strange feeling. He gathered a large pile of logs in his arms and trudged back up the stairs. * * * * * “It better be hot enough ‘cause this makes ten and I quit.” Spike carefully poured the hot water into the bathtub, making sure he didn’t scald her as she splashed luxuriously in the hot water. “Mmm…heaven,” she closed her eyes and sank deep into the tub. He smiled down at her as she floated in the warm water. She could stretch out her body completely in the huge tub. Her arms and legs moved sensuously with the slight motion of the water. He knelt down by the side of the tub and stirred the water gently with his hand as his eyes drank in the motion of her limbs. “You’re beautiful. A beautiful water lily floating in a pond, all blossomy. My lily, my lily maid.” She caressed his cheek with her warm, wet hand. The steam from the tub dampened his hair and the tiny beads of moisture reflected the candlelight. “And look at you,” she said in a hushed voice. “You have stars, constellations and moons, in your hair. You’re golden.” She cupped his chin in her hand and his whole face softened with love for her. “Want you in here with me, now, my golden man, my golden dragonfly.” * * * * * 'Cause it's always got to be blood. Blood is life...Makes you warm. Makes you hard. Makes you other than dead. Spike - The Gift * * * * * They almost fell asleep wrapped up together in the warm, soothing water. Buffy was the first to move. Her arm was twisted beneath his back. “I’m done.” She tried to wrench her arm free. He pressed down against it with his back. “Don’t leave me here all alone and wet.” “You are wet. All wet,” she laughed, “and you’re turning even whiter if that’s possible.” He held up his hand and examined his wrinkled palm, “Bloody hell! I’m shrinking! “ They both scrambled awkwardly out of the tub and stood on the damp bathroom floor shivering a bit as the cool air hit their damp skin. “Where’s the towel, love?” Spike asked looking around the bathroom. He saw a small hand towel hanging on a brass hook near the tub. “Is this it?” he exclaimed. “I used it last night. Here, give me it.” She yanked the towel out of his hand and began drying him off. “You just have to be very careful, and wring it out occasionally.” She patted the damp cold cloth over his chest. “This is torture.” He grabbed the towel from her and flicked it at her hip. Laughing and slipping across the floor, they struggled for control of the small piece of cloth. “Enough,” he roared. He swept her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom and sat down in front of the fire with her cradled on his lap. “Let’s do this naturally.” He placed another log on the fire. The flames leapt up and soon a wave of heat surrounded them, slowly drying them. He gently ran his fingers through her tangled wet hair, separating each strand, and waving it toward the fire to dry. “Your hair is so soft love. Could drown in your hair. Let it grow long again please.” He pressed his lips against her hair and inhaled her sweet scent. “How long?” she said, “To here?” She pointed to her knees. “Yes, love. All the way down to your knees so I can wrap myself up in it when I’m cold at night.” She crawled off his lap and knelt before the fire, tossing her hair over her head and waving it slowly before the flames. The firelight caressed and danced off the soft curves and angles of her body, coloring her skin a soft honey rose. He became aroused at the sight of her smoothly rounded buttocks slightly undulating before him as she shook her hair. He reached out and trailed his hands down her back and cupped the full softness of her buttocks. He slowly spread them apart so that he could see the small curved mounds covered with soft curls and the slightly swollen lips of her sex, flushed pink and glistening with her arousal. “What are you doing?” she gave a soft moan. He didn’t respond, but moved his fingers between her thighs and lightly stroked her wet lips. He pushed his fingers into her and was rewarded with a rush of warm liquid flowing from her. He slowly massaged her, pushing in and out of her until she began to whimper. “Oh god,” she moaned again and sat back slowly, settling his fingers deep inside her. She turned her head to look at him and saw his full erection. His ivory cock, so long and thick and aching to enter her, was swollen with blood. He removed his hand and, in one quick motion, stood up and swept her into his arms and carried her over to the bed. He placed her gently onto the middle of the bed and sat next to her, stroking her stomach, and teasing her nipples with his finger tips. She ran her fingers down the silken hard surface of his shaft, burying her fingers into thick dark curls at the base, and cupping the soft flesh beneath. She looked at him with liquid, begging eyes...begging him to fulfill her, to love her. Her lips were slightly parted in arousal. Her breathing was shallow and fast. He watched as she slowly moistened her lips with her small pink tongue; her face was flushed rosy red and glistened with sweat. Her nipples stood out darkened and erect. He felt the heat in his body rising. It was the heat of life, William’s heat, William’s blood, filling his veins, pulsing through his heart, throbbing in his cock. Felt William’s sweat pouring down his face in anticipation of the wild love he was about to make to the woman lying before him. William’s blood and Spike’s passion, mingling, soaring together, and both completely focused on pleasuring this beautiful woman they both loved. He arranged her body carefully, almost gently. He spread her legs far apart so that her feet were dangling off each side of the bed. He climbed up onto the bed and positioned himself between her legs. Spike leaned down and grasped her wrists in his strong hands pushing them above her head. She twisted and turned, moaning, whimpering, lifting and thrusting her hips toward his cock. “You want me? Say it. Say you want me inside of you. Say it,” he groaned. She cried out in her desperate need to for him to fill her up. She began panting and groaning. She cried urgently, “Want you, need you…” Her words sent a wave of emotion through him. “That’s it love,” he moaned. “I’m what you need. You need me. Need to loved by me.” He thrust slowly inside her and she shuddered as his thick hard length penetrated her. Spike gasped at the unbearably delicious wet heat that pulled him in as she lifted her hips to pull him in even deeper. He watched his cock move in and out of her and watched the wet lips slip up and down his hard white cock, so slippery and so luscious. He inhaled the musky and sweet scents of sex, and reveled in the erotic feel of the slick juices that poured from her as he thrust in and out of her. He gloried in the pleasure he gave her, as she moaned and cried with each stroke. Spike’s arousal was extreme and his breathing ragged and hoarse. He felt such a burning heat flowing through him: William’s heat, William’s breath, here with him, coming with him. As the tight grip of Buffy’s muscles surrounded his shaft, he thought, briefly, that he might lose his mind as his whole body began to throb with the violence of his orgasm. Buffy gasped at the feel of the hot seed filling her. She lifted her arms and pulled him down into a tight embrace as he emptied himself into her. Her body shuddered as waves of pleasure surged through her. She reached up to catch his lips with hers. He opened his eyes and looked nakedly, softly into hers. He pressed his tongue deep into her mouth in a long, sensuous and passionate kiss. And as he kissed her, he felt curiously whole. His mind and heart and body, were shifting, adjusting, in a strange metamorphosis and he knew that it was because he’d allowed William to share in this sacred, intimate dance with the woman he loved. * * * * * They fell asleep in each other’s arms. They slept peacefully in the silence of the night. The storm had ended and the cleansed night sky shone clear and brilliant with stars. In the middle of the night, Spike awoke suddenly, and lay completely still and tense listening to the eerie, almost ominous silence of the house. The bedroom was illuminated with the cold faint starlight palely pouring through the open curtains. He felt the air begin to thicken and grow heavy with something ancient, old, and unbearably sad. He rolled closer to Buffy and placed his arm across her in a protective motion. She opened her eyes and gave him a sleepy look. A small smile rose to her lips. “William, love,” she said as she wrapped her arms around him. The strange atmosphere dissipated completely as her words echoed in the silence. He relaxed into her embrace and they both fell back into a deep sleep. * * * * * Spike began to dream. He stood under an old Oak tree which grew beside an ancient stone wall. Before him on the grass was a large red blanket. Buffy sat on the blanket busily taking food out of a large basket. Sitting next to her, and watching her with solemn, hungry eyes were two small boys about three years of age. One of the boys had pale silver blonde hair, pale skin and vivid, blue eyes; the other was ruddier, with chestnut colored hair and dark greenish, grey eyes. Although their coloring was different, the shapes of their faces, their builds, even the small hands looked remarkably similar, almost twins, but for the hair and eyes. “We’re hungry,” they spoke in unison, looking hopefully up at their mother. She turned to them with a serious look, a little smile playing around her lips. “Can’t you wait?” “No!” they both yelled, released from their good behavior by her teasing smile. “Just like your father!” she laughed and gazed up at Spike with love in her eyes. His wife, his sons, he thought in wonder. The sun filtered down through the leaves of the oak, scattering the sunlight across the blanket and across these three people before him, who loved him, needed him. He gazed out over the landscape and saw a small dirt road winding slowly through the softly rolling hills. It passed by the bottom of the hill on which he stood. A quick movement on the road caught his eye and, to his surprise, he saw two strange looking men walking briskly down the road just as it curved beneath the hill. They were dressed in kilts, and carried old fashioned leather backpacks and thick walking sticks. He noticed that the skin of one of the men was a slight pale green. The other man seemed incredibly old, yet was still walking with the quick jubilant step of a much younger man. As they came nearer, they saw Spike standing on the hill and they lifted up their canes in an odd kind of salute. With a feeling of shock, Spike recognized that the two men were Ernest and Bertram. The sky quickly darkened with smoky grey storm clouds, and rain began to fall. Buffy hurriedly gathered up the blanket and basket. Spike scooped up his two sons in his arms and with much laughter, squealing and wiggling; they ran up over the hill away from the road, and down a narrow winding path into a small valley. The path widened into a well worn road. They dashed up the road with the rain pouring heavily down. Finally, they found themselves standing before a small, two storey white house, gabled and trimmed with intricate lattice work and surrounded by a deep porch. They sprinted up the stairs of the house and, under the protection of the porch roof, fell laughing and gasping onto a large wicker couch next to the front door. “We’re home!” the two boys shouted joyfully, as they wriggled out of Spike’s arms. * * * * * Spike smiled softly in his sleep. Unconsciously, he slipped his hand slowly around Buffy’s waist, pulling her closer to him. He nestled his face against her warm skin and fell into a deeper sleep...a dreamless sleep. * * * * * The next morning, Buffy perched on the bed staring down with disgust at her dirty sweatshirt and jeans lying upon the floor. “I can’t believe I have to wear these again.” Spike rolled over on the bed and put his arm around her and slowly stroked her bare stomach. “Don’t have to wear anything love. Fine with me. Don’t care if you’re all dirty and naked.” “Yeah. You wouldn’t. Mr. ‘dirt is your friend’, vampire.” He gave her hip a wet, warm kiss. “Is that the kiss of a vampire? All snuggly warm and human here.” She pushed him away and stood up from the bed. “No more kisses Spike. Let’s get out of here.” He sighed and got up. “I’m gonna check the other bedrooms for some clothes.” He pulled on his pants and left the room. Buffy spent the next hour cleaning up the room. When she finally finished, she wondered, “Where is he?” She walked out into the hallway. It was silent. “Spike?” He didn’t answer. “Spike, where are you?” her voice raised a bit in fear. She heard a noise from behind Bert’s bedroom door. “In here,” he called in a muffled voice. She found him sitting on Bert’s bed with the turquoise dress spread over his lap. He was holding a small white card in his hand. “What’s that?” He gave her the card. Margaret Sinclair, Actress Masques, Tableaux, Private Parties Inquiries: P.O. Box 83538 San Francisco, CA. “Who’s this? Oh…,” she said looking at his down-turned face staring at the turquoise dress. “Her. Well let me take care of this little problem.” She started to tear up the card. “Don’t,” he lunged at her and grabbed the card out of her hand. “And you want to keep it? Why?” she asked angrily. Some of the jealousy she’d felt that night, watching him in the meadow with this woman, surged to the surface. “She might know something—something about Bert. Might help us someday. You never know.” She went over to him and took the card out of his hand again. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll keep it. All safe and warm. Until WE need it.” She emphasized the ‘we’. * * * * * Giles parked his rental car on the circular drive outside of Bert’s house. He felt a little reluctant to go inside. He desperately wished he was back in England getting on with his own life. He really didn’t feel like talking right now and didn’t want to be asked a lot of questions about his meetings. He was still a little shaken from what he’d discovered at the lawyers’ office. “Well best get on with it,” he thought and opened the car door. Buffy opened the front door and came out to greet him. “You missed all the fun, as usual.” “Fun?” Giles said nervously. “William’s been on a rampage…and I nearly had to stake him,” she laughed. “William?” he asked dumbly. “Spike, William, whoever,” she laughed. “Rampage? Are you alright?” Giles hurried over to her side. “Me? Sure…but if you don’t send us a case of marmite from London, I’m not going to be responsible for what happens to Spike.” “Marmite?” “Spike’s new obsession. Says it makes him all manly.” She blushed. “Well, he ate the last jar this morning and has been tearing the place apart looking for more. You know they don’t carry it at Safeway.” Giles stood back from her and was struck by how beautiful she looked, even in her tattered jeans. Suddenly, he realized that he’d never seen her so glowing, so soft as if lit from inside by some fey joy. “Er…Ah…” he cleared his throat, and turned a bit away from her to wipe the tears that had sprung to his eyes. “Marmite, yes, will see what I can do. And where’s Spike now?” * * * * * “Spike!” she yelled, “He’s here!” Spike came out of the kitchen. He was wearing a bright red Forty-Niner’s tee shirt that was a few sizes too small for him. Giles started laughing. “What’s your bleeding problem?” “Nothing. Nothing at all…” Giles choked. “Well then.” Spike said, giving him a harsh look. “I happen to fancy football.” * * * * * They all went into the library and Giles surveyed their work. He looked at several boxes stacked carefully on one of the tables. “What are these?” “We’d like to bring those with us.” “Well done. Let’s see, I’d like to go through the book collection and take a selection of the more valuable books home in the car with us also. I’ve made arrangements with a moving company to come get the rest. This should take me a few hours and then we can be on our way.” “Well, we’re tired of hanging around here and there’s something I want to do before I leave. Care if we borrow the car?” Spike asked. “Yes, yes just drive slowly, please. The drivers are mad around here. And don’t stay away too long. I don’t like being here alone,” Giles said with slightly embarrassed look on his face. “Need the big bad vampire in the tiny red shirt ‘round to protect you?” Spike laughed. * * * * * “Bloody hell, leave it to Giles to rent a black Cadillac. Why not a nice small cheery yellow Toyota or VW?” Spike groaned as he tried to maneuver the huge vehicle down the steep streets jam packed with double parkers. “Don’t they know that’s illegal?” Buffy smiled as she watched him driving. His face was a mask of concentration. “Where are we headed?” “You’ll see.” He gave her a brilliant smile and patted her knee. “Gonna take my girl out for a little adventure.” About ten minutes later, he pulled into a large parking lot that fronted the esplanade next to the long expanse of Ocean Beach. The ocean was a dark blue green, reflecting the cloudless skies and hinting at the coldness of its depths. “Ah…beach…swimming…no suit here,” Buffy said. “Damned right no suit. ‘Cause we’re not swimming. We’re running.” He got out of the car and went over and opened Buffy’s door. He reached in and started to pull her out of the car. “Running from what?” Buffy asked, refusing to budge. “Running from me!” He laughed and lifted her out of the car, and twirled her around. “Put.Me.Down!” He set her down and pulling her by the hand jogged over to the steps leading down to the sand. They stopped and took off their shoes and hid them next to a pile of driftwood. The sand was quite hot from the afternoon sun. “Come on Slayer. Don’t dawdle. You’ll burn your feet off.” Spike was jumping back and forth on the burning sand. He pulled her into a run down to the shoreline where the hot sand was replaced by the cool sand at the water’s edge. “Need to heal for a second here.” Buffy splashed her feet in the shallow icy water. “It’s freezing!” she said in wonder. “Why’s it so cold?” “Don’t go in there love!” He shouted at her over the crash of waves. “This water’s deadly. Thick with rip tides and such.” He pulled her out of the water. “Ok my mermaid, now it’s time for a game of tag.” He gave her a strong shove and she fell back on the sand. “Catch me if you can,” he yelled and took off down the beach. She sat for a moment and watched him running down the beach. He ran gracefully, not athletically. He was like a deer bounding through a wood. She could almost feel the electricity of his intoxication with the deep flow of oxygen in his lungs, the feeling of blood coursing through him, and the sweat starting to bead up and pour down his forehead. About one hundred yards away from her, he stopped and turned around. He raised both his arms in the air and jumped about in a strange kind of victory dance. “He’s completely mad,” she laughed to herself and jumped up and began running toward him. When she was about twenty feet from her, he turned around and began running away from her again. “Wait!” she yelled. But he ignored her and picked up his pace. “I can do this,” Buffy smiled and she felt a burst of slayer strength kick in and soon she was running just behind him. “Bloody, bloody fantastic!” he yelled at her as she pulled up along side him. They unconsciously began to match strides and continued running for several miles until the cliffs at the other end of the beach seemed to fade in the distance. They came upon sets of rolling sand dunes thick with tall sun bleached grasses. Spike veered to the left and ran up toward a small gully in between the dunes. He flung himself down on the sand panting. Buffy ran up to where he lay and stood over him. “Tired you out did I?” she smiled. “Never,” he gasped and pulled her down on top of him. “Listen,” he demanded, pushing her head against his chest. “Listen to my heart beat. Listen to me breathe!” His heart was beating so rapidly, it seemed as if it would burst out of his chest. He drew in ragged breaths. “Oh god, I love air; love this sun. I’m alive Buffy. Alive.” He lifted her head and gave her a short, deep kiss. He pulled back, gasping for breath and then gently rolled her over until he was lying on top of her. “You are everything—everything to me, love,” he whispered, looking deeply into her eyes. His face was flushed a rosy red. He closed his eyes and she drank in his beauty, his long dark lashes, and the tangled wildness of his hair. “Need to feel your skin,” he demanded urgently. He pulled up her shirt and ripped it over her head. She turned a bit and quickly pulled off her jeans with one hand as she was unbuttoning his pants with the other. Soon they were both naked and rolling around the warm sand like two young animals: playing, teasing, nipping, and licking. He pulled her on top of him and placed her soft wetness over his erection. He held her hips firmly in both hands and slowly moved her back and forth over his hardness. “Come for me,” he panted. “Want to hear you cry out, Buffy, cry out, and drown out the bloody waves and the whole bleeding world.” He pushed her faster and then suddenly lifted her hips and plunged himself deeply inside her. She screamed with the pleasure of his thrusts, the pleasure of him filling her, and the pleasure of riding him hard. She began pushing back against his thrusts, contracting tightly around him as she felt the wave of her orgasm start to build. “Come with me,” she cried. “Don’t leave me alone. Come!” She fell down against his chest and he gave an almost inhuman roar of pleasure as he pulsed deep inside her. * * * * * This is the genealogy of sand of the ice born fragments of a thousand ancient mountains washed to sea crushed and shattered by the frozen waves crushed and shattered by merciless time by the frozen waves grinding, unbinding what was first bound in fire * * * * * They crouched in the shallow waves and tried to rinse off the sand as best they could, splashing and laughing in the ice cold water. They ran out of the waves and back to where their clothes lay tossed and crumpled on the ground. Spike carefully spread out his shirt and pants and gestured for Buffy to sit down. They let the warmth of the sun dry the salty water off their skin. When they were dry, they quickly dressed. Spike pulled Buffy back down on to the ground and then lay down next to her. He cradled her head in the crook of his arm; they nestled close to each other and fell asleep under the warm sun. They woke to the sound of gulls calling over the waves and a cool breeze which tossed fine grains of sand over their bodies. He didn’t want to leave. “But Giles will be worried,” she protested. She tried to get up, but Spike pulled her back down. “Giles is a big boy.” He said quietly, “I’ve never seen the sunset over the ocean; want to see it just once, love.” He put his arm around her and held her close. She leant her head against his shoulder and idly brushed off the grains of sand that sparkled like gold on his forearms and hands. “My golden man.” He kissed the top of her head and they watched as the sun began to dip into the far edge of the ocean. “Listen,” he said. “To what?” “They say you can hear the sun sigh as it sinks into the ocean.” He smiled down at her. They listened intently, but there was only silence, and the sound of their hushed breathing, and the lonely call of the gulls. The small high clouds scattered on the horizon began to slowly flush a rose red, scattered with streaks of dark orange. The color of the sky began to cool from brilliant blue to a dusky gray. “Don’t want it to end.” He sighed and stood up. They walked slowly back down the beach in silence. They found their shoes and clambered up the stairs and walked back to the car in the twilight. * * * * * They found Giles anxiously pacing back and forth in the driveway in front of a pile of boxes. “Where the hell have you two been?” he said angrily. “It’s almost 7 p.m.!” “Sorry Giles,” Spike said nonchalantly, “We fell asleep at the beach.” He brushed some sand off his shirt in Giles direction as if to prove to him that they weren’t lying. “Well go in and get your things. I’ll start packing up the car. You know we still have to go get Buffy’s car over in Berkeley. So please, don’t dawdle.” Buffy and Spike walked quickly into the house, avoiding Giles stare. They both ran up the stairs and when they got to the bedroom, where Buffy had packed up some sacks with their clothes, they both burst into laughter. “Dawdle?” Buffy giggled. “I’m sure you dawdle, but I’ve never dawdled in my life.” Spike picked up both of their sacks and gave her a nudge on the behind with his knee. “Get going Slayer. There’s always a first time for everything.” Spike helped Giles pack the remaining boxes into the car. There wasn’t much room left. Only a small corner in the backseat remained for him and Buffy. The painting was laid carefully across the front passenger seat. Giles locked up the house and Buffy and Spike squeezed into the back. “You two can drive back together in Buffy’s car,” Giles announced. “Just don’t speed because I’ll be following you.” They drove in silence back across the Bay Bridge. As Giles pulled onto the off ramp for University Avenue, Spike suddenly tensed up. In the tight confines of the backseat, surrounded by boxes, he remembered exactly of what the noise in the basement last night reminded him. It was the sound of fingernails scratching against the inside of a coffin. There was a coffin in Bertram’s basement, with the door heavily bolted from the outside, he remembered with a shiver, and there was something or someone inside it. * * * * * Not only did Buffy’s car refuse to start, the owner of the motel claimed she owed him several hundred dollars for her room. After a furious argument, the motel owner agreed reluctantly to take Buffy’s car in payment for the motel bill. Spike had been very silent during the whole interchange, letting Buffy take care of everything. He only interceded once when he thought the man was moving close to her in a threatening way. He had flashed his eyes and growled a bit and the man backed away. “They deserve each other,” Buffy fumed as they drove back onto the freeway. “Let it go love. You’ll just have to put up with me at close quarters.” He rubbed her shoulder and pulled her over onto his lap. “Take a little nap, ok? You shouldn’t get so worked up.” She settled back into his arms with a sigh, and was soon fast asleep. When he was certain that she was deeply asleep, he told Giles about the sound he’d heard in Bert’s basement. “Very strange. You know my first thought was that it was Bert’s little hidey hole, but then I remember the door was bolted from the outside.” He paused and then continued in a worried voice, “Even Buffy couldn’t open it.” “Buffy couldn’t open it?” Giles sounded startled. “Not good…perhaps it was sealed.” “Sealed?" “Magic,” Giles answered. Continued in 'Out of the Labyrinth' Back to Dragonfly Series Home Back to Dark Dreams |
| Part Seven : The Dragonfly (con't) I died So many years ago. But you can make me feel Like it isn't so And why you come to be with me I think I finally know - Spike/William (OMWF) |