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Running from the Inevitable by The Enemy of Reality
 
Chapter twenty-nine
 
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A/N: This is it, folks! The last chapter. :) I want to thank all of you who left me a review along the way and gave this story a chance even when it was a WIP. Obviously, you are made of win.

And muchos thanks to my lovely betas All4Spike and BloodyHell! :D
 

Chapter 29


Spike woke up some time later, squinting at the light that was spilling into the room through the thick curtains. Indirect sunlight though, so he was safe as houses as long as he stayed away from the window.


Buffy mumbled something in her sleep, making him grin. She looked gorgeous, all devoid of make-up with her hair sticking out in all directions- courtesy of being shagged six ways from Sunday by yours truly. So he snuggled closer to her and started purring like the lovesick ponce that he was.


At that, Buffy’s heartbeat increased as she slowly stirred awake. “Mmm, hi.”


“Hi yourself.” He pushed her hair away from her forehead, earning him a sleepy smile. “How are you feeling?”


Buffy stretched, drawing his greedy eyes to every shift of her muscles. “Are you sure you’re not a woman? I thought only we asked about feelings and stuff.”


“Oh, I’m all man.” He pulled her tighter against him so she could feel just how manly he really was.


Buffy blushed and hid her face in his neck. She was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen.


“Now that we’ve established your manliness, does that mean you won’t make me breakfast?”


“You hungry?”


“Starving.”


He couldn’t cook for shit but she had him wrapped around her little finger so he’d bloody well whip up a fresh croissant if he had to conjure it out of thin air. “What do you fancy then?”


“You.” She batted her eyelashes. “Covered in chocolate ice-cream.”


“Oh, why you little tramp.” With a growl, he kissed her, hands roaming down her back.


Buffy pressed back against his chest with a mewl that shot a dose of lust through his veins. And then her stomach growled, her cheeks turning hot.


Grinning, he nipped at her lips before pulling away and rising to his feet. Her eyes widened as she perused his naked body. If she wanted a show, he’d give her one. With an easy smile, he growled deeply in his throat and stretched his arms above his head, being sure to give her a good gander at his rippling muscles. The fiery look in her eyes had him stirring in all sorts of inconvenient ways. Inconvenient because his girl was hungry and he better move his arse to whip her up some breakfast before he dived back in to quench his own thirst for her body.


With a sigh of regret, Spike bent down to retrieve the jeans and yanked them up his legs then zipped up.


“I told them.”


His hands stilled at the top button as he cast her a questioning glance. “Come again?”


“Giles and Willow and Xander and… Mom. I told them we were together.”


Funny how she could make him speechless with one simple sentence. “Y-you did?”


“They weren’t exactly thrilled but they’ll come around.” She grinned. “I thought Willow’s head would explode when I told her you could make me… you know… even with my clothes on.”


In two seconds flat he was kneeling next to her and kissing her slow and deep. The minx had actually said that. What he wouldn’t give to have seen the expression on the poor little witch’s face.


Buffy leaned away, gazing at him from beneath heavy lids. “Mmm… not that I don’t enjoy this a lot, but food? Please?”


He gave her a soft smile and nuzzled her cheek. Buffy had told her friends and that meant… well, it meant more that she probably realised.


“Thanks,” he mumbled, reluctantly standing up.


She just nodded and tucked the sheets around her naked body. “You can thank me later.” And there was that impish sparkle in her eyes he loved to see. “With a massage or… something.”


“Is that right?” With a wink, he added, “You better take a nap then. You’re gonna need it.”


*******


Blinds in the kitchen drawn with just a minor singe on his wrist, Spike set a few eggs and vegetables on the counter. Just how much did humans eat exactly? He had seen the alarming quantities of food Buffy could consume so he wasn’t sure just how much he should make without offending her. Not to mention how he’d do it considering he’d never cracked an egg in his existence.


Spike clasped an egg in his hand and absently scratched his chest.
 

That was how Joyce found him when she walked in through the back door.


Startled, Spike squeezed the egg and it cracked, the slimy substance running through his fingers to drop to the floor with an audible plop.


They stared at each other, Spike only dressed in his jeans, Joyce in her wrinkled dress, their hair equally tousled. A bit of the cracked egg shell broke off and fell to the floor, rousing Spike out of his shock.


“Uhh… good morning, Mrs. Summers.” He forced his leaden legs to move towards the sink where he turned on the tap and stuck his hand under the flowing water to get rid of the sticky mess. “I’ll clean the floor up, I promise.”


If there was a slight tinge of panic in his voice, who could blame him? He hoped Buffy’s mum didn’t have an axe handy because that could be potentially lethal to his limbs. Although, considering his state of undress, she might aim for different places. Why was it that being around Buffy, threats to his goodies increased tenfold? More importantly, how the hell did they both forget about Buffy’s mum? Must have been because Buffy shagged his brains out. Which inevitably lead him to recall the memory of Buffy’s lips wrapped around his… yeah, probably shouldn’t be thinking about that right now.


Joyce shook her head and finally closed the door behind her. “Buffy didn’t tell me you would be… cooking her breakfast.”


“Uh, right. She didn’t… she didn’t know I’d come around.” If he could blush, his cheeks would be burning. Almost felt like he’d been caught red handed by his own mum.


Joyce dropped her purse on the kitchen island and sat on the stool. “So, you and my daughter? You know, somehow I never imagined her future being with a vampire. I told Angel as much.”


So, straight to the point, was it? He could deal with that. Spike busied himself with soaking a kitchen towel and bending down to wipe the bits of egg from the floor. “Yeah, well, Angel is a tosser. Not saying I’m a saint because we both know better. Hell, even Buffy does. But I can be good for her. Where it counts.”


“So you can give her children? Take her out to the park? Because I love my daughter and I only want what’s best for her,” Joyce said. “I just… I want her to have that bit of normal that was stolen from her the minute she became the Slayer.”


Spike rose to his feet and tossed the rag on the counter. “Normal?” he snorted, not really caring if he offended her. “Normal is overrated. Look around, Joyce.” He spread his arms. “The fucking world is full of not normal. What’s it matter if she has a good boring human boy if he can’t make her happy? I can, and I’ll try my best if it kills me. And if you truly want what’s best for her then you’d try and see that.”


He raked a hand through his hair and clenched his jaw. “Once I figure out how to make a bloody omelet.”


To his surprise, Joyce laughed and stood up before approaching him. If his nose didn’t lie, Joyce sure had fun activities of her own during the night. Good for her. Spike imagined she didn’t get to go out much what with being a single mother and having to take care of Buffy and work at the same time.


“You know, I like you better than I ever liked Angel,” she remarked and cracked two eggs into a bowl so effortlessly it made him feel like an idiot.


“Well, of course you do. I have a sense of humour.”


With a smile, she pushed the vegetables towards him and handed him a knife. “Chop.” Yup, as bossy as Buffy. He was a sucker for Summers women. “Do you love her?”


He almost dropped the knife but gathered himself and started to chop the green peppers. “More than I’ve ever loved anyone.”


Joyce gazed at him with a serious expression. “Good. Because if you screw up, Buffy showed me how to use a weapon. And I won’t be shy about using it.”


Spike swallowed back the urge to flinch and nodded instead. “Yes, ma’am.”


*******


With a great deal of help from Joyce, Spike managed to cook an omelet that didn’t look half bad. It sort of gave him hope that while Joyce might not be the happiest about him and Buffy being together, she didn’t disapprove either.


After a shower and a change of clothes, Joyce had left the house, telling him she wouldn’t be back until sundown. Spike thought that was a sure sign of her giving them the green light. Probably a good thing she hadn’t walked in on them and noticed the broken bed, which he’d have to fix once he figured out how. But there were more pressing matters right now. Namely a certain Slayer. Not taking advantage of an empty house and naked Buffy would be just wrong, so since he’d converted to be a goody-two-shoes he might as well be really, really good.


With a wicked grin, he pounced on Buffy as soon as she finished her food.


*******


When Spike went to visit the Watcher few days later, he’d fully expected the man to shove a crossbow in his face. He hadn’t been wrong. But dealing with Rupert’s mistrust was a small price to pay to get all Buffy’s loved ones in his corner. Yeah, she’d said she didn’t give a damn whether they agreed with their relationship or not, but Spike was well aware it bothered her. Not that Buffy would admit it even to herself.


So he went to see Rupert and got quite a surprise when he recognised the scent. The scent he’d very clearly already smelt once before. Surrounding Joyce the morning she walked in on his attempt to cook. Who knew good old Rupes had it in him?


They had argued at the door until Giles finally conceded and invited Spike in. No Watcher could resist the promise of a full autobiography from one of the deadliest vampires in history. Humiliating as retelling some of the details from his human life had been, Spike would give anything to forge a bridge between himself and Buffy’s father figure.


In the following months, Spike found out that he and Rupert had quite a lot in common, including their tastes in music and their common goal to keep Buffy safe. While it would be farfetched to call it a friendship, they tolerated each other enough for Spike to be able to attend the little meetings once some demon stirred up troubles on the Hellmouth.


Did he give a piss about being called a traitor by other vamps? Not in the slightest. As long as he got in his spot of violence, he was good. Not to mention watching Buffy kick some demon ass had him hard as a rock every single time. The times he’d get to take her right after fighting were always furious and primal. Vampire and the Slayer locked in a deadly dance, tapping into the darkest parts of what they were.


“Aaaah,” came a girly scream as a newly risen vampire knocked Xander to the ground. With a roll of his eyes, Spike shook off naughty memories starring Buffy bent over a tombstone screaming his name to the high heavens. Instead he casually strode towards the struggle and planted a stake in the vampire’s heart right as he was leaning towards the whelp’s neck. They could barely stand each other but he kind of enjoyed riling the boy up. And likewise.


“He was gonna bite me!” Xander pressed his palm against the side of his neck and shakily rose to his feet.


“Yeah, I’m surprised myself. That’s what I call not having good taste.” Spike smirked and stuck a cigarette in his mouth, flame from the lighter flaring up as he clicked it open.


Xander sputtered and brushed the seat of his pants. “You wish you could bite me!”


“Seems to me like you do, doughnut boy. Any latent homosexual tendencies perhaps? You ought to sweep out that closet you live in.”


“I’m not the one who paints his nails,” Xander pointed out with a haughty glance at Spike’s hands.


Spike exhaled a stream of smoke. “’S called style. Maybe you should look into it, Hawaiian boy.”


“Hey, these shirts are cool! You’d be surprised how quick they sell.” Xander pointed index finger at him that suspiciously smelled of fruit rollups. “Want to buy one?”


Spike grimaced. “No, thanks. I still have an ounce of dignity left.”


“Dignity? What dignity?” Xander chortled and made a whipping sound. “Buffy has you by the short hair.”


“Xander! I’m bored,” Anya exclaimed and walked towards them with a pout. “Let’s go home and have sex. I’ll even use the strap-on like you wanted.”


As he was finishing his fag, Spike lifted his eyebrow, immensely enjoying the violent shade of red Xander was currently sporting.


“A strap-on, you say?” Spike asked Anya.


Her eyes lit up, ignoring Xander’s fumbled protests. “Sometimes it’s fun to switch roles, you know. Besides, I’m really good at dominating.”


“I bet.” Spike sent Xander a wicked glance. “And you said I’m whipped.”


“Oh, whipping can be fun too,” Anya said and looped her arm around Xander’s waist as he just stood there with his shoulders slumped in defeat, waiting for the torture to end.


“What can be fun?” Buffy asked and he wasted no time in dragging her against him and planting a kiss on her lips. Xander made gagging noises, making Buffy snicker against Spike’s lips.


“Ah, you know… just your regular Friday night topics,” Spike said. “Sex toys and such.”


“O-kay. I’m regretting asking now,” Buffy said and licked her lips. And she had that look in her eyes. That look that promised he’d be busy for the next few hours. “Think I’ll do one more sweep.” She glanced at Xander and Anya. “But you guys go home and have fun. Or go to Giles’ and help him and Willow research.”


“We’ll pass,” Anya said and dragged Xander away.


Once they were out of sight, Buffy slipped her hands underneath his duster and trailed down to squeeze his ass.


“I’m hot.”


He nuzzled her neck and sucked at her pulse point. “Yeah, you are.”


“Cool me down?” she asked with a mischief glinting in her eyes. His woman was a goddess.


“Are you sure you don’t want me to make you even… hotter.”


She bit at his neck, the length of her body rubbing against his and he could see her eyes further darkening with that primal deep seated need that always pulled his demon to the brink.


“Do you know that we’ve been together for over seven months now?”


“Mmm… guess time does fly when you’re having fun.”


She laughed and scratched his abdomen through the fabric of his T-shirt.


“You know, Slayer, if I knew just how randy fighting made you, I’d have taken advantage a long time ago.”


“Oh yeah, do you know what I’d have done?’ she whispered into his ear in a husky voice.


“Uhh… what?”


“Punched you in the face.”


She started laughing at his shocked face, twisting away from his arms to flee. Oh hell, she knew her running away triggered his instinct to hunt, to catch her. The scenery flew by as he chased after her, the lusty glances she threw over her shoulder twisting the knots in his belly to a white hot pulse of need.


He was catching up and dashed right after her into an abandoned crypt. It was musty, the air a bit damp and cold as he came to a halt, every sense tuning in on the sounds of her excited breathing. The pounding of her heart. The intoxicating smell of her arousal. She stood there before him, shedding the denim jacket as she rolled her shoulders and let her hair loose to tumble down in long waves.


“Looks like you got me,” Buffy said. “What are you going to do with me?”


Biting back the urge to tackle her, Spike swaggered closer with his thumbs hooked in the loops of his jeans. “Gonna shag you, Slayer.” Just few inches between them now, her breath fanning across his chest. “Make you scream and come until you can’t walk.”


“Someone’s cocky.” Her gaze burned into his. “I don’t think I believe you.”


Playing cat and mouse, was she? Baiting him to prove otherwise? “Well, that means I’ll have to show you just how very wrong you are, won’t I?


With a smirk, he yanked her up against him, his tongue tickling her upper lip. As soon as their lips made contact she parted hers, trying to draw him in. The soft, wet glide of her mouth drove him wild and he couldn’t hold back anymore. The barrier crashed down and he let the lust for her flood his entire being. Their tongues tangled, moans whispered into each other’s mouths as they staggered to the slab of a smooth, marble sarcophagus in the middle of the crypt.


Buffy tilted her head back to allow him free reign over her slender throat, drawing his demon even closer to the surface. Every glance, every gesture was a challenge for him to take her, to make her his. And he’d be double damned if it didn’t turn him on.


He gripped her hips and spun her around, bending her over the stone.


“Is this what you want? Shall I take you just like this?” He inched her skirt over her ass and caressed the smooth flesh.


Her arms stretched in front of her, her fingers slipped across the smooth stone in effort to find purchase. “Spike, please.”


That was about as much as he could take. It was so raw, and the demon in him couldn’t resist the sight of the Slayer offering herself in supplication. Hooking his thumbs in the sides of her lacy knickers, he pulled the flimsy fabric down Buffy’s tanned legs, and sank to his knees to help her step put of them. To savour her sweet flavour right from the source.


God, but she was wet.


He couldn’t wait anymore. Not with her juices lingering on his tongue. His jeans were undone in a flash and he was rising to his feet, nudging her legs to spread even more, right before he pushed inside her in two deep strokes.


The thrum of Buffy’s heartbeat and her quick desperate breaths were a constant echo in his mind, a soundtrack to his every thrust.


Spike’s hands shifted from her hips to her waist to pull her up against his chest so he could roll her top up and over her head. He needed to touch her skin, to feel every shudder passing through her in tandem with the pulse of her wrapping around his unrelenting cock. Letting the top flutter to the floor, Spike swept her hair to the side and tugged at the rings in her ear with his teeth before sucking her earlobe into his mouth. For a moment he let his lips wander down her throat to rest against the wild flutter of her rushing blood, his hands cupping and massaging her breasts. He loved it when she skipped wearing a bra.


Her hand tangled in his hair to tug him closer and the desire to bite and posses her utterly almost overwhelmed him. With one parting lick, Spike pushed her back against the sarcophagus.


Never had he seen a more gorgeous sight. Buffy was a canvas and he the admirer stricken by the red of her passion painted in broad uninhibited strokes tangled with the pure white of her soul and heart. The expanse of her back stretched before him, the golden silk of her skin sliding under his hand as he stroked down her spine.


Despite the animalistic position, his hips took on a slow sexy beat, driving every thought but the need for more out of her head. A bead of sweat gathered at her temple and slid down as she dug her fingers into the marble beneath her.


Spike always knew just where to touch her to stoke the fire, just how fast and how rough to go, and her hips moved of their own volition to meet his increasing thrusts. During times like these, when they were revved up by fighting, sex with him was not only gratification and emotional connection. It was also a way for them to sate the darkness inside, to merge on a supremely primal level.


He quenched her thirst for violence and death stirred up by her being the Slayer, and she quieted down the urges of his demon. When he stroked her back so tenderly in contrast with the now rough rhythm of his hips, all she wanted to do was purr and let him do it for hours.


“More,” she muttered and turned her head to the side, drinking in the sight of his face twisted in pleasure, his dark eyes flashing yellow.


Quickening his pace, he clutched her hip before sliding his hand to the front to tease her clit.


She panted.


He groaned.


Her knees started to tremble as she reached around and squeezed his hip, pleading with her eyes. As nice as this was, they needed more. No words were needed. Spike slowed down to a stop, deeply breathing to calm down as he pulled out and turned her around in his arms.


“Want to see your eyes,” she said and pushed him down to the floor. The duster splayed beneath him as he fell, black spilling around his pale skin.


“Come here,” he urged and yanked her down.


She sank down on his length inch by torturous inch until her thighs rested on his. Still it wasn’t enough and she needed to feel his skin.


“How much… do you like this T-shirt?” Damn, breathing was a serious issue.


“Huh?”


She tore it in half and shuddered when her fingertips finally came in contact with his chest and quivering belly.


“Gonna kill me,” he said and gripped her hips when she renewed the rocking of her hips.


As she stared down at him, flashing between his demon and human guise, all she felt was the almost delirious need to melt into him. They were like puzzles, interlocking and completing each other in every shape and curve. Months, years, hours. She didn’t give a damn how long they had been together. All she knew was Spike had imprinted himself deep into her flesh and soul. He was the one who would always be waiting for her at the end, her other half.


There was just one little thing. Just one. Something she’d wanted him to take.


Hips still moving, Buffy’s upper half slumped forward and she nibbled his jaw.


“Bite me,” she murmured. “Tell me I’m yours.”


His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, searching hers for indisputable truth. Whatever he sought, he must have found because he cupped the back of her neck and pulled her against his lips. The anticipation was excruciating. Every suction of his lips and brush of his tongue just drove her closer to the edge.


His fangs sliced through her skin like a hot knife through butter. The pain didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was being so full of Spike it felt as thought they were one subliminal creature, whose every cell crackled with rapture. And as Spike drew in the first mouthful of her blood, colours burst behind her eyes. Her mouth opened in a silent scream as her eyes slammed shut when the orgasm ripped through her with the force of a rushing train. Her hips jerked frantically up and down and still the tides continued to crash into her as he drank.


Soon Spike pulled his fangs out and slammed her down, her walls spasming around him with such force he couldn’t hold back anymore. With a roar, he came in bursts that left him half-unconscious.


“T-tell me,” she whispered. And he knew exactly what she wanted.


“You’re mine, Buffy.” Saying the words out loud only made it all the more real. The fact they were together and he’d found the woman who loved him with as much intensity as he loved her. That by stumbling drunk to her front porch nearly eight months ago he’d set his own fate in motion.


“I love you,” she said and he banded his arms around her, lulled by the sound of her heartbeat.


“Love you, pet.”


The weight of what she’d started slowly crept into his mind. It wasn’t a claim but it was pretty damn close to how the ritual went and he knew Buffy was aware of it. Knew it meant she was willing to tie their essence together eventually. That she had chosen him. Not bloody Angelus or some college boy. Him.


With her very life coursing through his veins and her flesh still wrapped around him, Spike grinned and drew her into a deep kiss.


Unlife was bloody great.


THE END

 

A/N:  It would mean a lot to me if you let me know your thoughts. :) Whether you read the story as I updated it or or are reading it now as it's finsihed. If not, I'm gonna have to spank you. Or should that be used as an icnentive, you kinky readers you? ;)

 

 
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