Chapter Seven: "Restless Again"

beta'd by Oracleholly



Despite Willow's belief that Buffy had tra-la-la'd off to her very own happyland of DeNial, just as she'd done that night not so long ago when Glory the hellbitch had snatched Dawnie for a little slice-dice-and-Pop!-goes-the-portal-- the Goddess was only partially right. Buffy had retreated to somewhere less painful than the world in which the rest of them trod and tread. More disturbing was that, somehow, a similar condition had befallen Spike as well.

However, what Willow didn't know was that the couple had actually had assistance falling into their trance-like state. To the outside world, their bodies lay entwined amongst the rumpled sheets of Buffy's large, four-poster bed. In their dream states, each found themselves very much separated, alone and unaware of the forces guiding them.

Unlike the last time, Buffy's current situation in no way resembled a replay of happier childhood memories. Quite the opposite was true as she found herself wandering through a cemetery so familiar she could have traversed it backwards and blindfolded. Under the light of a full moon, the well-tended lawns of Restfield Cemetery shimmered with early morning dew while row upon row of granite headstones, crypts and statuary fairly glowed with an eerie, blue-gray
light.

Unconsciously, her feet carried her to one grave out of them all. The only difference between this monument and all the others was that it held no markings to indicate the soul laid to rest within the earth beneath her feet. The sight of it was painful and brought tears to Buffy's eyes as a heavy sadness settled on her heart. She slowly shook her head and forced back her tears.

"It should say something," she whispered into the cool, night air.

"What should it say?" came the reply from the woman beside her.

Buffy looked up from the blank stone and peered at the door to Spike's old crypt thirty yards away. The door was slightly ajar, and her feet itched to run to it for sanctuary. But, she needed answers first. Instead of running away, Buffy considered the unmarked monument in front of her and turned over the question of what it should say of the person, the friend who they had buried here after a bullet meant for the Slayer had gone astray and claimed the life of another.

Half afraid to look into luminous blue eyes she was certain would be filled with accusation and too afraid that if she didn't do it now, she'd never get another chance, Buffy met Tara's eyes. "Your name," she answered sadly. "The world should know you're here. It should know you lived and were loved."

Tara smiled softly, patiently, at the beautiful young woman at her side. "I did live, Buffy. And I was loved," her voice was whisper soft, and her eyes held only quiet serenity. "Don't be sad, Guardian. What lies beneath the earth is but a borrowed vessel. As we are born from the earth, so must me return to it. The part that is truly us continues on in everything. We are the wind in the trees. Rains from the sky. Sunlight shining upon children at play.

"It was merely my time. The method doesn't matter. I could have easily been killed by a demon or by stepping out in rush hour traffic. Death is just the changing of rooms." The blonde smirked with a bit of her old self. "When you bow, you leave the crowd," she sang quietly and earned a tiny smile from the Guardian Slayer.

Tara's eyes took on a faraway look, and she cocked her head to the side as she listened to something only she could hear. She nodded once, her azure gaze fixed on the heartsick young woman. Again she nodded and turned her eyes towards the moon. "Is there no other way?" her voice was full of sadness and pity, eye lowering to the ground and closing for a moment. "I understand."

Throughout Tara's speech and her seeming one-sided conversation, Buffy had remained silent. The presence of Tara-- and it really was Tara, of that she was certain-- and the sound of her voice were such a precious gift she wouldn't dare risk making her go away.

Then, as the whole of Tara's focus settled on her once more, Buffy became fearful and felt her nerves straining to their very limits. Needing something to hold, she wrapped her arms around herself and looked back toward the crypt with a deep longing to run and never look back. "What's wrong with me, Tara?"

Tara felt like throwing her head back and screaming her displeasure at the Powers That Be responsible for making her afterlife so difficult at the moment. When she'd left the earthly realm behind, the Powers had offered her a reward of her choosing. Anything her soul desired.

Her answer had been easy and without hesitation. She'd requested a condition, as well. Her soul's desire had been to continue the fight of the people whom had become her family. Her request had been that, no matter what task the PTBs chose for her, she would be allowed to remain close to that family.

Deal done and here she was - designated spirit guide to one Buffy Anne Summers, Guardian Slayer and one William Nathaniel Wordsworth, a.k.a. Spike or William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers turned Protector of the Slayer line.

Tara had been watching the couple almost since the moment of her death. In one moment, she was smiling at Willow, and the next she was standing in a room comprised mainly of blue and gray marble The ghostly figures had appeared in togas to complete Tara's picture of an ancient Grecian temple. The ghosts had spoken in a chorus of voices free of all emotion as they explained what had happened to her and gave her the freedom to choose her own path.

Minutes later, Tara was witness to the deal struck between Spike and the powerful demon, Shakhalamahn. That deal would seal Spike's fate for all eternity as there had never-- in the history of this world-- been another soulless demon who actively sought the return of their soul for love. The platinum blonde's words, filled with so much pain, loneliness and desolation still made Tara's heart hurt. "Make me what I was so Buffy can get what she deserves.”


Despite the initial heartache Tara had felt upon hearing Spike's request, she felt overwhelming pride at the Master Vampire's fierce determination as he fought his way through the demon’s trials. It had lasted for weeks, and Spike had not only endured all manner of torture, pain and suffering. He'd come out the victor in every test. And Tara found herself sobbing outright as Shakhalamahn had rewarded the battered mass of vampire-shaped cuts and bruises with the return of his soul.

In the days following his newly acquired soul, Tara hovered protectively and possessively, using every bit of influence she held to aid and guide the broken warrior back to the young woman who had cried herself to sleep nearly every night since his departure from the hellmouth.

She'd fought against the First's influence as much as possible until her new bosses had let her know that the vampire's destiny had been decided long ago. Just as Buffy's had been equally decided. The couple had, quite literally, been made for one another. Two halves of the same whole.

Something, somewhere had gone slightly off track though. One of the halves was too much, and the other too little. Now, the Powers had determined a way to balance the halves and make them whole once more.

"Tara?"

The sound of her name brought Tara from her thoughts, and she once again looked at the frightened young woman. "Sorry, must've drifted out for a minute," she replied with a sheepish smile. A brief flash of pain flickered in Buffy's eyes before she again looked toward Spike's old crypt.

"I asked what was wrong with me."

What, indeed, Tara thought as she tried her best to find the right words and sent a mental glare at the Powers That Be.

This was not going to be pretty.


**********************************************


Spike was disoriented at first. One moment, a storm of emotions had come through the claim and hit him with all the subtlety of an out of control freight train. He'd sensed more than processed the various faces of others during his haste to reach his mate and ease her suffering. Vaguely, he recalled Red's shouted warning right as he pulled Buffy's thrashing body into his arms.

Then everything seemed to flash across his mind at once; the images he'd first been subjected to upon the moment of his re-corporealization. Like a movie on fast forward, he'd seen his girls as they'd truly been, instead of what the monks had conditioned their memories to explain. He saw a room, very much like that of an ancient temple in some one or other gladiator movie he'd seen. Here stood a man and a woman whose bodies looked as though they'd been dipped in metallic body paints. Both were dressed in simple togas with corded belts tied loosely at their waists and some type of headbands designed to look like leaves adorned the crown of each head.

The man and woman--siblings?-- both spoke as one to an audience of several monks, dressed in brown robes with the cowls thrown back to reveal concerned faces. The scene flashed just as the words "her chosen mate" and "destined to bring this child" reached his ears. He heard those words as another scene took the place of the first.

This time, he was again forced into the role of reluctant observer as he witnessed a frantic coupling in the Watcher's lavatory, the result of just one of many spells Willow had gotten wrong. Spike's memories of that day differed than what was being shown to him. He did not remember this coupling that had occurred in the wake of Red's Thy Will Be Done incantation.

He felt like a voyeur as his eyes seemed glued to the incredibly erotic display before him. He was helpless to turn away, as the bespelled Spike and Buffy moaned and writhed on the cold tile floor in mindless desperation, while a blinded Giles was left alone in the living room of his own flat with only a bottle of finely aged scotch to keep him company. As the lovers reached fulfillment, Spike watched himself lower his fangs to Buffy's throat, slicing through the tender skin to obliterate those marks left behind by Angel before he'd hared off to play the soddin' Dick Tracy to Los Angeles' world of the supernatural.

The air was rife with a heady combination of Buffy's highly potent Slayer blood, the pungent scent of their combined fluids and the sounds spilling from his mate's gorgeous mouth, sending all of the observing Spike's borrowed blood shooting straight down to what was fast becoming painful. Each second he was forced to watch the scene play out had his aching, turgid member jumping and rubbing agonizingly against the metal zipper of his jeans. Fuck it, he growled inwardly and reached down to take himself in hand for whatever relief he could get. Then, just as his fingers grasped the metal tab, two things happened at once. Buffy's teeth viciously tore into Spike's neck and the observing Spike found himself somewhere else, yet again.

As his world stopped spinning, Spike found himself chained to a cavern wall he recalled seeing during his trip to Africa. The only difference was, last time he hadn't been chained to the wall and at the mercy of a two beautiful women who made no attempt at hiding their amusement at his current state.

"See?" Anya asked her companion. "What'd I tell ya? He has a large penis and is very capable at giving many orgasms." Demon girl leered at him, and Spike found it incredibly disturbing.

"Oi, now! You bints can just lemme go," Spike demanded as he pulled at the chains and found them sturdy enough to hold him. He didn't have the first clue what the hell he was doing here, but he needed to find Buffy so they could get home.

"Relax, Blondie," Anya's companion said, and Spike narrowed his eyes at the familiar face. It'd been a while since he'd laid eyes on her, and she'd filled out. Now she presented to the world lush curves and heavy breasts --a far cry from the weight obsessed girl he remembered from his first year in Sunnydale and that one time he'd come to L.A. after the Gem of Amara.

A slow, thoroughly male smile slid across Spike's face as he ran his eyes over those delicious curves. "Well, well, well. Cordelial! You look divine, pet. Seems spending the last eight months on your back's done wonders for you."

Cordelia rolled her eyes, sending a completely unimpressed look his way. "And gettin' toasted and ghosted still hasn't taught you how to dress," came her weak attempt at a comeback. "The chains were specifically designed to hold you, so there's no point fighting," the Seer added as Spike continued to jerk at the chains keeping him in place. All it was doing was chafing the hell out of his wrists.

The vampire turned his focus back to Harris' ex-bird and pleaded with his eyes for her to understand his need to find his mate and get out of this place. Anya looked like she was on the verge of relenting when footsteps were heard coming
closer. The sweet sounds of his love's voice eased a bit of the tension in his shoulders. Cordy gave him an inscrutable look and sighed, "What part of the word Relax did you not understand?"

"The part where I did it," Spike shot back. "Mind you, demon girl's bread and butter, for more than a thousand years was makin' blokes suffer. And I had your boss tortured for hours with hot pokers to get my hands on an ugly little bauble that I let get stolen out from under my nose. The two of you together don't exactly inspire a fellow to let his guard down."

At that moment, Buffy stepped into the cavernous room, and Spike felt himself lose all ability to form coherent thought. His jaw hung open as she came to him and smiled beautifully; one tiny hand with five tiny fingers stroked his face lovingly. Her eyes held him mesmerized in their green depths, and all he could think was how it was the first time since his return that no hint of madness was present in her gaze.

"There's a ritual," Cordelia informed him. "To make her whole again. It's dan-"

"Do it," Spike interrupted as Buffy continued to stroke his face.

"Don't you," Anya tried only to be interrupted as well.

"I said, do it," Spike snapped at the women. "Whatever it takes, whatever the consequences. If it makes her well, again…"

Buffy looked deep into the loving eyes of her mate and knew she'd made the right decision. No matter what came after, they would still have each other. Leaning up, she gently brushed her lips across his in an all too brief kiss before giving him a watery smile. "I love you," she whispered for his ears only.

A lump rose in his throat as Spike saw the reflection of her love in her eyes. "Love you, too, kitten," his voice was raspy, and it felt as though watching her take those steps away from him was worst moment of his entire existence. There was a reason he was trussed up in chains meant specifically to hold him. Spike was willing to bet his soul that it wasn't for a rousing game Checkers.


Snapshots of Eternity
Chapter Eight: Rebirth
beta'd by Oracleholly




Los Angeles

Beeping...

As her awareness began to grow, her mind focused on that sound after being dragged back into her body. So like the sound of that primal drumbeat in that other place - the steady thumping of the ornately carved wooden staff striking the ground over and over.

Screams...

The lonely, haunting cry of a fierce creature caught within the trap of its own making completely helpless to escape the bonds. Desperate to reach its mate; snarling and snapping, unaware of the harm it did itself as it continued to rage at their captors.

Shifting...

Everything was changing; outsides were becoming insides and vice versa. Power shifting, trading, taking away and giving back. Bodies, souls, aspects and essences were all tossed into a metaphorical blender and set on HIGH. Metaphysical threads twisted and twined, were torn apart then put back together again albeit different than before. Creating something where once there had been nothing.

Beeping...

She was back to the beeping. Her memories of that OTHER place were dimming, being replaced with the memories of what she'd been before ... back before that special kiss ... when she'd still retained some shred of her innocence.

High school friends- and enemies- flitted through her mind. Random nights spent dancing at the Bronze. No cover Tuesdays. Not safe to leave her convertible- the shiny red ‘Sweet Sixteen, Love, Dad’ - parked in the nearby lot. The Bronze was the place to go. “Oh, they let anybody in.” “It's in the bad part of town...About half a block away from the good part of town.” They hadn't actually had a whole lotta town.

Gods! She'd been the ditziest bitch at Sunnydale High. Then the Slayer had come to town, forcibly shaking the scales from Cordelia's eyes and dragging the spoiled little rich girl in her Jimmy Choo shoes to see her town for what it really was. Hell on Earth. And, hell's mouth had been gaping wide in glutinous anticipation just fifteen feet beneath the floors that saw the daily pitter-patter of teenaged feet.

Cordy's world seemed to crumble down around her overnight, as she learned that the monsters under her bed were real. Making it to graduation had been a crash course in survival skills. Once the malaise that held her fellow Sunnydalians in steadfast ignorance and denial lifted, she saw the truth: not only were vampires and demons real, but they were also scary, ugly, and very, very hungry. They prowled through the night, hunting their hapless, still in denial-until-its-too-late human prey.

Too soon, the sheltering embrace of memory gave way to waking thought. The steady beep-beep increased its pace in conjunction with the groan that drifted from between slightly parted lips. Wide, almond shaped eyes the color of decadently rich chocolate fluttered open scant seconds before she heard the sounds of the rapidly approaching medics.

Then people filled her room. Some clad in various colored scrubs and a few dressed in pristine white lab coats with stethoscopes wrapped around their necks. All of them watched her every breath as it filled her lungs and was expelled. The blinking of her eyes alone held great interest for them, as they looked their fill.

Frightened, Cordelia Chase swallowed with a great deal of difficulty before uttering the first word she'd spoken in over a year.

"Angel..."

****************************



Spike let out a pained groan as he struggled against the heavy fog surrounding his brain, instinctively stroking a hand through the silken strands of hair fanned across his shoulder. His mate's name expelled as a harsh whisper as though he'd been screaming for days, though he couldn't remember why he would have been screaming in the first place. He swallowed against a throat which felt as though it were lined with jagged bits of glass and licked his dry, cracked lips.

The small body curled up against his side trembled violently. A quiet whimper sounded in the still air of the room before a flushed, tear-stained face lifted, and his eyes met with Dawn's red rimmed ones.

Upon seeing that he was awake, his -What should I call her? My daughter? Sister? Does she even know the truth of her own parentage? - Nibblet sobbed loudly with visible relief.

His questions were answered when her little girl lost voice whimpered her first word, "Daddy?" And he felt his heart swell with so much pride and love that he thought it might very well burst from his chest.

But, something was wrong. Even though his demon clamored for a chance to reclaim this precious gift from the Powers That Be, he wanted … no, he needed his mate. Thus, Spike stretched out all of his senses, taking in the broken bedroom window. Narrowed to mere slits, the amber eyes of his demon zeroed in on the faint traces of blood on jagged glass.

Gently nudging Dawn from his chest, sparing a brief glance at his Bit's saddened face, Spike stood from the bed and moved to the window. Buffy was out there, somewhere, and he'd be dust once more and damned a hundred times over if he allowed anything to stand in the way of his finding her.

Spike took the same route as his diminutive mate, lithely dropping three stories to land with a predator's grace, black leather duster fluttering in the breeze. Allowing his demon to take control, he lifted his face and scented the air. Animalistic glee filled him as he easily picked up the scent Buffy had left specifically for him, whether she realized it or not.

Little bitch of mine wants to play games...Forgot who she's dealing with...'M not Peaches. The image her scent conjured up, sent blood surging to his loins. He groaned as lust flooded his system, making his demon howl in expectation of the chase. Let's go find our mate and teach the stubborn chit a lesson. Think the bint needs reminding who she bloody well belongs to...

************************

It had been oh, so very long since she'd wanted anything but death. That sweet, blessed release from all the pain and the fighting. For what seemed an eternity death hadn't been just snapping at her heels, it'd been carving out pieces of her soul and leaving gaping wounds where it crawled inside with the intimacy of a long time lover. Curling within her deepest places and nesting there in wait for the moment she allowed it to take her fully.

Now she was death. She was death and life, so thoroughly enmeshed in one another that even she could no longer discern where one ended and the other began. Tonight, none of that mattered. Tonight, she was free for the first time in as long as she could remember.

The only thing that mattered to her was the sum of three little words.

Want. Take. Have.

Want... She'd seen it in the window of a specialty shop as she'd prowled through the streets. Shiny leather the color of freshly spilled blood. Ruby red exuberance tightly sheathing sleek, powerful muscles. It would ride low on her hips, the cold metal pressing deliciously against her aching clit; rubbing in just the right way with her every step.

Take... It had been nothing at all for her to deliver a powerful sidekick to the large glass standing between Buffy and the display case greedily coveting the thing she desired. Too fast for the very human sales clerk to react, the petite Guardian snatched her prize from its resting place. In a flash, she'd obtained the matching leather tank top and the black, heavy soled boots matching the laces of the top. An instant later, she'd already vanished back into the night.

She stopped slipping through the shadows to don her newly acquired armor when she spied a thick copse of trees. Glancing down at the grungy looking pajamas she'd forgotten were still covering her body, Buffy growled in irritation and tore the navy silk pants and blouse. She could always buy more where those had come from, anyway.

Buffy sighed with obvious pleasure as she all but slithered into the second skin. A grin split her face, showcasing a double set of both upper and lower fangs to match the flickering green/gold blaze in her eyes and the tiny little ridges above her brow.

Hearing a noise nearby, Buffy froze and attuned her senses in order to locate the source. When no further sounds other than the night followed, she relaxed and turned back the way she came.

She'd taken but a single step when something large and heavy tackled her from behind and drove her back to the ground. She screamed as lethal canines plunged deep into her neck, savagely tearing at the flesh and furiously sucking down her potent blood.

Everybody knew the blood of a Slayer was an aphrodisiac.

What about the blood of a Guardian?

Everything went black.

***************************

Over the weeks since his arrival in Rome, Spike had found that among the many establishments owned by the ancient city's Master Vampire, were several demon-only hotels. One such hotel was located near Night Haven and provided a discreet service for the discriminating vampire. It was like the bloody W for the undead, except instead of a mint on the pillow, rooms came with virgin blood in the dishonor bar and a trunk full of 'Toys' at the foot of their lavish beds.

After checking into the Black Rose Inn with an unconscious, leather clad female draped over his shoulder and being shown to their suite, Spike knew he needed to phone up Red and the Nib so as not to worry them overmuch in regards to his and the Slayer's whereabouts.

He kept the call very brief and carried a hint of warning that those who could feel the inner workings of both Buffy's and his own minds, do what they must to allow the couple their privacy until their return. The last thing he needed was for their daughter to be a captive audience for whatever happened upon Buffy's return to consciousness. Red wasn't much of a concern for him, Spike reasoned. Aside from being a powerful witch, the redhead had learned when and when not to take a peek into someone else's brain. She no longer abused her power.

Of course, the fact that Spike just didn't give a tinker's damn whether or not the witch caught a mindful went a long way to aiding his comfort level.

Once he finished the phone call, Spike dropped the cell phone onto the nightstand and moved to the chest at the foot of the bed. Some of the contents he found within brought back interesting memories -some good, others...well, not so much- and he shoved them all aside as he rifled through the neatly arranged implements until he found what he was searching for.

The heavy chains clanked loudly as he pulled them free from the wooden box, and he returned to his unconscious mate, slipping the manacles around each wrist and securing it to a metal ring attached to the wall above the bed. He had a vague sense of the changes that had occurred within her body as a result of the ritual, but Spike would be a fool if he didn't take necessary precautions just in case the new and improved Buffy Summers was drastically altered in a.... Not going to think that way, mate. Just secure the bloody chains and wait for the girl to wake up.

Once he assured himself that the slender blonde would be unable to escape her bonds, Spike pulled a chair to the bedside and settled himself in to wait.

When had it all started? That was the question he'd asked himself thousands of times over the last couple of years. What had been the moment in which William the Bloody, self-proclaimed Slayer of Slayers had become so irrevocably obsessed with the woman-child he'd been so determined to kill once upon a hellmouth?

You bloody well know exactly when, you git; said the voice of his demon, while his inner William sputtered at the way Spike's eyes drank in the way the shiny leather molded to her succulent thighs. His mouth watered and his borrowed blood went straight to the burgeoning erection behind the cold metal zipper of his jeans.

Back, you beast! William shrieked at the demon. Spike had the sudden image of his human self dressed head to foot in tweed, unruly mousy brown curls flopping everywhere as he wielded a whip and chair at the demon, like some lion tamer. You shall not molest our girl whilst she is unaware!

Said whip cracked through the air with an audible snap, and the demon snarled through a mouthful of fangs.

Spike groaned aloud, scrubbing a hand over his face even as he noted that the mental exchange between his soul and his demon had somewhat distracted him from the very delectable sight of his mate chained to the bed. In the place of his lustful perusal of leather and warm, golden skin, his earlier question returned.

This is not the time for self-delusion, my friend, William informed him in a calm tone. The image of William now seated in the chair, which he'd previously used in order to fend off the lecherous demon. Apparently, William had exchanged the whip for a writing tablet and pen.

You are well aware of that defining moment. Even he is aware. William nodded to his side where a game-faced Spike grinned lasciviously around his elongated canines.

To prove his point, William waved a hand in the air and the memory arose to the forefront of his mind.



***FLASHBACK***

Fall, 1998

He hadn't been given much information to go on. Small. Blonde. Lethal. Spends a great deal of time at the local dance club.

Small and blonde, check. Covered the majority of female flesh currently flinging about in the noise which passed for music in this joint. He could feel her out there, in the dim light and the mass of humans with their heartbeats thundering against his senses. They were clueless that death came dressed in black denims and long, black leather duster. The women who'd noticed him, and a few of the men as well, wore a different sort of hunger on their faces than the one he would satis-…


Hold on a tick...

He saw her then, moving away from a table on which her scattered school things lay forgotten. Instead, she took to the dance floor with another female and an awkward male whose chaotic jerks and twists would have been comical, had Spike bothered to notice.

But, Spike noticed nothing. Saw nothing other than HER. Golden hair, golden skin, glittering eyes filled with a hunger for life.

***END FLASHBACK***

That was the moment in which he'd been lost. Spike knew that now with more certainty than he knew of any other truth. There, dancing with her friends in an overcrowded dance club, the sixteen year old Buffy Anne Summers dug herself straight into the very core of her would-be murderer's being.

Spike’s thoughts were violently interrupted by the very loud screech of metal, a fraction of an instant before he found his lap filled with warm flesh and the sharp pain of fangs slicing into his neck.

tbc
_______________________________________________________________

A/N: For those of you who are unfamiliar with the name W, it's a chain of five star hotels owned by Starwood Resorts and Hotels Worldwide.



Snapshots of Eternity

Chapter Nine: Revelations in the Night
beta'd by Oracleholly


It happened fast. One moment Spike had been lost in his own thoughts, using memories of a night, which had occurred a lifetime ago to divert himself from the luscious, leather wrapped package sprawled and chained to the bed before him. Then, there was the screech of metal as the manacles were torn asunder. She'd pounced on him in a flash of gold, black and red.

The sharp pain of fangs - Buffy had fangs! - brutally sliced through his skin. The feeling of both her fangs and her lips latching onto the wound was nothing compared to the tidal wave of knowledge which crashed into and over him.

Whatever mystical barrier that had once been erected to hide the details of the ritual he and his mate had recently undergone came tumbling down with the first pull of blood that passed her pouty, bee stung lips and pooled in the moist cavern of her mouth. Yet, he couldn't explain it, but he knew everything she knew and felt what she felt, even as her throat constricted swallowing her first mouthful of vampiric blood making room for her next compulsive gulp.

Memories....

He remembered his last thought as Buffy left him chained to that cavern wall taking her appointed place for the ritual. He'd known, instinctively, that whatever was going to happen was bad enough that the soddin' Powers That Fucked With You had deemed it necessary for Spike to be bound and helpless to go to his mate's aid.

Helpless....

He'd been helpless to do anything but watch as chains sprouted from the cavern floor and attached themselves to her wrists and ankles, entrapping her where she stood and binding the Guardian to the earth. Pieces of knowledge had tugged at his awareness. A vague recollection filtered through the intent focus Spike placed on his golden girl and the resigned look in her eyes. That look spoke volumes. She knew what was to come and her own stormy jade gaze switched between the vampire and the three beings whom had been, in Tara and Anya's cases, close friends while Cordelia had been alternately a pain in the Slayer's ass, friend and comrade in the fight against the forces of darkness.

Tara's whisper soft voice had cut through the heavy silence of the cavern, asking if Buffy were ready to begin. Buffy had replied with a careful nod of her blonde head. Spike had tried to interrupt, his rising fear for what was to come in the next small eternity temporarily overriding his resolve that these beings perform whatever ritual they needed in order to cure his love of her current state. His mouth opened, but he found himself unable to make a sound. The former Wiccan shot an apologetic look his way, her luminous blue eyes conveying the sincerity behind the apology.

Her look had lasted only a mere fraction of a human heartbeat before the gentle spirit's attention returned to the young woman bound in chains. A large staff appeared in her hands, ornately carved in dark, gleaming wood and adorned with ancient markings that Spike assumed to be charms or wards. Perhaps the markings were in a language dating back to a time when the earth was still young and overrun by those creatures for which the Slayer had originally been created.

As one, Tara, Anya and Cordelia--the latter two having taken up staffs matching the one in Tara's hands-- began a rhythmic thumping against the dirt floor. Their voices mingled into a beautiful cadence of words in a language Spike had never heard.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then everything happened at once. Pain ripped through Spike's entire being, something like a black mist seeping from his pores and coalescing into a solid shadow before him. A howling wind filled the packed dirt room and sent icy fingers of panic skittering over the vampire's flesh. He could practically hear the outrage of his demon as it tried to tear itself from its flesh and bone prison and go to its mate. The scent of his own blood alerted Spike to the extent of his struggle to escape the chains. He could feel the thick viscous fluid sliding down his arms from the torn skin of his wrists. Didn't matter how badly damaged his own body became as long as he could stop her pain.

Screams were spilling from her throat as Buffy fell to her hands and knees on the cold dirt. She'd known what would happen. Tara had explained it all to her as they'd made their trek here. The last time she'd been offered this gift, she'd vehemently rejected it. She had not jumped through the portal in search of answers just to get knocked up by some random demon essence. Instead, she'd fought against it with everything in her.

Now was a different story. The dark men were nowhere to be found. She was surrounded by love, in this moment, by the aspects of womanhood. Serenity, beauty, courage and strength. The heavy, rhythmic pounding of each staff as it struck the ground kept pace with the steady pumping of her heart as it pushed powerful blood through her veins. The very same rhythmic pounding gave her a focal point and allowed her to block some of the pain as a piece of her soul was ripped from her body and replaced with a coinciding piece of Spike's demon. They were already mated and shared a daughter despite those lies the monks had used to hide that bit of knowledge. Sharing essences was really the logical next step.

Would she become a vampire? No. At least not in the same way Spike was a vampire. This was different. She would be different, because she was already immortal. The Slayer demon, while closely tied to that which had set up shop in her mate's dead, soulless body, was able to reside within a living host. The advantage it held over its counterpart was its ability to move about during the day for brief periods of time. It also allowed for the majority of the human soul to remain within, to co-exist rather than force out those last traces of humanity. Her heart would still beat and she would still be Buffy, though the upgrade would go a long way to healing that part of herself which had been broken after the fall of Sunnydale and her defeat against the First Evil.

The image of her new incarnation arose in the forefront of her mind as Buffy felt her canines extend and the corresponding teeth on her lower jaw elongated into a smaller, though no less lethal, set of fangs. She would need to ingest blood, Spike's, whenever the lust for it demanded to be fed. Thankfully, due to the dormant Slayer demon buried deep within, the bit of Spike's demon would only awaken the primitive creature. There would be no feeding from those she'd always been bound by sacred duty to protect.

Tara had warned her that she might have some difficulty controlling herself, her hungers and desires, in the beginning. The ghostly guide urged her to remain close to her mate-- and now Sire, for lack of a better explanation-- as much as possible until she did learn to co-exist with the newly formed and awakened demon side of herself. The connection would need to be tended in much the same way as the mating claim, through blood and mysticism.

Blood...

The first mouthful of blood, darkly rich, powerful, and better than anything she'd ever tasted in her life, slid down her throat causing her to moan against her vampire's tantalizing skin. Even to her ears, the sound was closer to an actual purr than anything human.

An answering rumble vibrated from the hard, powerful body beneath her, the vibration sending bolts of electricity straight to her core. She tore her fangs from the incredible elixir freely flowing from the open wound she'd created, swiping her tongue across the jagged tear before sitting up and flinging her hair out of her face. Her eyes met the burning amber of her mate's gaze, the naked lust held in them dragging a low moan from her as she ground herself against the hardness pressed against her.

Moisture flooded the material of her lacy thong. The scent of her own arousal filled the air, rivaling the answering scent of her mate's. The low growl that rumbled past his lips, the flare of his nostrils, the bruising grip of his clawed hands as he held her tightly and thrust against her, had Buffy dancing on that knife's edge of nearly crippling need.

Her newly acquired demon had one, single-minded goal.

******************************************



Dawn knew what was happening. The Key was almost giddy, as it, she, whatever, kept up a running commentary on what her parents were doing. So don't need the images, thanks all the same.

"Focus, Dawn," Willow's voice was sharp as it crackled in the air between them. Oz, under Willow's strict orders, had enclosed the three females within a circle of sacred sand. Faith didn't seem the slightest disturbed by whatever feelings she was getting through her connection to Buffy. If Willow was affected, the Goddess didn't let on.

That just left Dawn open to the full brunt of thoughts and emotions she could feel through the connection to her parents. When Buffy had awakened from wherever she and Spike had disappeared during their little mystical coma, the Guardian had given Dawn a fierce hug, whispered a few words of comfort-- words that had sounded so much like goodbye-- and took a running leap through the plate-glass window. Whatever force that linked the Key, the vampire and the Guardian had been completely sealed during their coma. The strain of the lost connection had finally worn away the last of her control and Dawn had curled against the still comatose vampire, heaving sobs wracking her petite frame.

The moment Spike had regained consciousness, the links re-opened and all the details of the ritual came flooding back in a torrent of images and feelings. Then even Spike had bolted leaving his distraught daughter lying in a weeping huddle on the bed where Willow found her just moments later.

It was in that moment which Willow realized the full extent of Dawn's lack of control. The girl was being slowly taken over by the entity of the Key, unwittingly feeding it more and more power through her tentative attempts with spell casting and her loss of emotional control. Determination flooded her system as Willow resolved to remain with Dawn for as long as it took for the younger woman to learn control over herself.

With Faith's help, they cleared a place in the middle of the living room floor for the three girls to sit facing each other and practice a few meditation techniques.

Then, Spike had called with his news that he'd found Buffy and that he would bring the blonde back soon.

The moment she'd disconnected from the call, Willow had already began instructing Oz on how to set up the spell ingredients which would create a wall of silence around the women. Once activated, the spell would block out any and all outside elements from reaching those on the inside.

The last of the sand was poured and a sound very much like that of a bug zapper zinged throughout the apartment.

All was silent within the well.

************************************

It was hard to say how they'd ended up in this position. Her hands were braced against the wall, with a fully aroused vampire pressed along her back, a set of razor sharp fangs embedded within her throat.

Some distant voice within her railed against the complete, blatant show of dominance on his part while she was being held immobilized in a submissive stance. She couldn't move. Why couldn't she move? She always moved during sex. A lot.

Oh, but this works, too, the traitorous voice in her head whimpered. The sound of it was quite audible, as one of the hands splayed across her belly slipped to the fastenings that held the leather pants together. She felt the minute tug as he clasped the zipper and slid it down, a fresh flood of juices further soaking her already sodden undergarments and another mewl escaped her parted lips.

Spike's hand snaked inside the loosened trousers. His deft fingers slid beneath the pitiful excuse for knickers, which provided the last bit of barrier separating him from the only heaven he'd likely ever know. His eyes rolled back slightly, and he released the grip he had on her neck when his fingers at last obtained their goal in the hot, moist folds of her sex. He gave the bite mark a quick lick and trailed his tongue to her ear.

"So wet for me, kitten...hot and wet...smell divine," he babbled in her ear. His fingers nimbly found the engorged bundle of nerves and he gave it a sharp pinch, grinning when she groaned and her knees weakened.

"Spike," his girl moaned as her head fell back against his chest. He held her tighter to his front, warring with his demon over the desire to just tear away her clothes and blindly thrust within her heated depths and his inner William's want to give his mate a proper seeing to.

The next words out of her mouth decided it for him.

**************************************


Snapshots of Eternity

Chapter 10: Until Time Stops
Beta'd by the beta-shaped Goddess, Oracleholly


“Tell me you love me.”


“I love you.”


“Tell me you want me.”


“Until time stops, the world ends and eternity fades to nothing,” he rasped in the ear he'd been nuzzling. Ever the poet, he thought with no little amusement.

Then he couldn't think much of anything beyond the utterly primal need to mate with this beautiful creature in his arms. She had turned within the circle of his arms, her eyes glazed with passion and need. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips and he groaned at the sight, wanting to pull that delightfully talented appendage into his mouth and feel it wrap around his own.

Spike noticed there was a look in her eyes that went beyond the mere physical delights her body craved. A yearning, a need for something he couldn't quite put a name to…oh…. A slow, sexy grin he knew had always gotten her right in the knickers slid across his sharply chiseled features.

“Tell me you love me,” he demanded in a low, sensual tone. Excitement made her eyes sparkle and she laughed softly, intimately as she began to walk him backwards towards the bed.

“I love you,” she punctuated her statement with a lingering kiss to that wide, sensual mouth she loved so much. The backs of his knees hit the edge of the mattress and she pressed him to sit.

“Tell me you want me,” the smile on his face had gone from playful to awestruck in the blink of an eye. There was another emotion in his eyes that hurt Buffy's heart to realize. After everything that they had been through; after every way she had tried to show him since he'd miraculously reappeared in her life, there still remained some tiny bit of lingering doubt that she would turn him away.

How could she not love him? He'd been a part of her for so long now that she couldn't remember her life before he'd shown up in that alley behind the Bronze. They shared a daughter- how weird was that? Sure, she knew the monks had made Dawn from her. Still…and the spell…and with the fake memories- Spike had given her Dawn. How could Buffy not love him?

As for wanting?

Buffy realized she had been quiet for several moments, just losing herself in her thoughts and the drowning azure pools steadily gazing back at her. She smiled, so much emotion making her chest tight. Moisture gathered in her eyes and she wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, her other hand softly cupping his cheek. When she smiled again, it was a bright, beautiful smile filled with everything she had inside her heart and soul.

Tell me you want me.

How could I not?

“Until time stops, the world ends and eternity fades to nothing.”




Spike was speechless. All the flowery words of William vanished as the admission left her sweet lips and found their way into his ears. The truth he'd always wanted to hear from her and the adoring gaze coupled with the wondrous smile told him everything he needed to know.
This was his Buffy. His Slayer. This wasn't the sixteen year old girl in love with his brooding, soulful grandsire. Nor was she the broken woman dragged from Heaven by her well-meaning friends. And most certainly she no longer was the heartbroken, soul-sick creature he'd encountered a small handful of weeks ago.

This was the Buffy he'd held in his arms those final days in the Hellmouth. The golden goddess who'd declared him her Champion and entrusted him with the lives of everyone she held dear. This was his mate.

Tears filled his own eyes as he drank in the sheer beauty before him, and Spike pressed his face to the strip of bare flesh between the leather trousers she still wore and the barely-there top. He just wanted to curl up in her arms and stay there forever.

Buffy, however, had other ideas. She felt like she hadn't really been with him since before the fall of Sunnydale. In a lot of ways, she hadn't; too broken after everything that had happened since that day her world had exploded and left her more fully devastated than the debris filled crater that had once been her home. Happiness bloomed in her chest, her heart soaring with hope that she now had eternity to spend in the arms of her perfect mate.

“Not enough,” she whispered so softly that his vampiric hearing barely heard it.

“What's that, kitten,” he asked her, and she felt her stomach flip at the sensual glide of his fingers caressing the warm skin of her lower back.

She looked down into that beautiful face of her love. “Eternity still isn't long enough for me to show you how much I love you.”


The resulting look of stunned surprise was almost comical, as his eyes grew so wide they looked in danger of falling out of his face, his mouth gaping and the rest of his body going statue still as he looked up at her.

“What is it?”


Slowly, the sweetest smile curved his lips. “'S the first time you've said that to me since that day in the hell mouth. And don't say you said it before when we were--oomph,” Suddenly, Spike found himself with a lapful of mate as she flung herself into his arms and fastened her mouth to his, greedily feasting as though she were starving and he was the first meal she'd seen in days.

The kiss seemed to last forever, their tongues sliding and wrapping around each other as each battled for dominance. When they at last broke to give Buffy a moment to breathe, she attacked the sensitive flesh of his throat; her fangs dropping as she lightly grazed them over her previous marks. The urge to mark him again nearly overwhelming her and she growled softly. His answering growl accompanied his hands, gripping her hips with enough strength to leave bruises. His hips ground into her leather covered sex, and she mewled and writhed against him.

“Off,” she demanded, gripping the hem of his tee shirt and tugging, frantic to get at the bare skin beneath. He lifted his arms dutifully and allowed her to rip the offending material over his head and cast it aside even as his nimble fingers deftly worked the laces holding her top together.

The shiny, constrictive garment was gone an instant later and cool lips latched themselves onto a pert nipple while a hand palmed her other breast. Buffy threw her head back with a hiss of pleasure, holding on as tightly as she could while sensations sparked through her petite frame.

Tension coiled low in her belly, molten heat flowing through her veins.

Without warning, she shoved Spike to his back atop the expensive bedspread, hands grasping at the rough denim jeans and jerking until she had them down his legs, then tossed them to the rapidly growing pile on the floor. She hesitated only a moment to take in the mouth-watering sight of pale flesh that could give any Greek statuary a serious case of envy.

Oh,…oh, gods…Naked Spike…MINE! the voice in her head chanted and Buffy licked her suddenly dry lips as she settled a knee on the foot of the bed and crawled upwards to cover the sinfully beautiful body with her own, stopping to drop hungry nips and kisses along the way.

A low hiss colored the air as she lingered over the smooth expanse of flesh covering Spike's lower abdominal muscle. She knew for a fact that it drove him crazy when she nibbled on the velvety skin surrounding his navel. If the hard column of muscle nudging the underside of her chin were any indication, it still drove him wild.



Cheeky bint, Spike thought as the love of his unlife tossed a wink his way and opened those luscious lips to wrap around the head of his aching cock.

He groaned as it disappeared inch by inch into the moist, blazing inferno of her mouth. His hands clenched in the coverlet and he tore his eyes from the sight of her head bobbing up and down. All it would take would be her eyes on his while that sweet mouth worked him and her soft hand cupped and kneaded his….

Bloody fucking…


Hotter than hell and needing some form of release, Buffy slid her free hand down her taut belly and beneath her unfastened pants. Her small fingers found her clit and skimmed light circles over it as she slid her lips all the way to the base of her lover's turgid member. Relaxing her throat, she swallowed around the belled head and hummed as he growled at her. The urge to giggle at him was repressed, but only just.

Instead, her eyes climbed up his torso to meet desire darkened eyes almost fully swallowed by the pupils. Another growl echoed through the suite and his hands reached down to jerk her up and away from the center of her teasing attentions.

“No more fun an' games, luv,” he ground out from between tightly clenched teeth.

Spike rolled her beneath him and quickly divested her of the last remaining barriers separating their bodies. “Need inside you, kitten. 'll give you a proper seein' to next time,” he promised in a strained whisper as he settled himself between her spread thighs and joined them together in one sharp thrust.

Dual groans filled the air as he stilled momentarily within her body. Toned, golden limbs wrapped themselves around him, hidden muscles clenching and unclenching in an effort to urge him on. His smoldering gaze swept over her, eyebrow arching as he saw raw desire and need meeting him in her hazel gaze. Tiny nails scraped along the coiled muscles in his back until they dug into the firm globes of his ass. That was all it took before Spike was pounding viciously into her body. Her head arched backwards onto the pillow, mouth open wide as delicious moans and grunts spilled from her lips. She babbled senselessly as he circled his hips to grind his pubic bone into her engorged clit. Every thrust was hitting her in just the right way, pushing her higher and higher as her inner muscles squeezed and massaged him for all she was worth.

He wasn't going to last and he knew it. But he wasn't going over that ledge alone. Instead, he snaked a hand down between them, grasping the tiny bundle of nerves and giving it a sharp twist as he plunged his fangs into the marks he'd left just a little while ago. A shriek rose on the sultry air, and her own fangs found his throat in return. Orgasm slammed through them both as they swallowed mouthfuls of blood. Bodies shuddered and pulsed, and they pulled free by mutual consent to howl their release with dual cries of, “Mine!”


A moment passed, and, both panting and shaking, softer voices echoed, “Yours.”


Buffy smiled a tearful smile up at the man who owned her heart, body and soul, pressing her sweat dampened forehead to his and whispered, “Until time stops, the world ends and eternity fades to nothing.”


tbc

A/N: Manipulated dialogue shamelessly stolen from AtS S5 episode “You’re Welcome”.

A gentle reminder, this story was designed to be non-canon and, while I do touch on canon elements throughout, I am not writing this to follow the progression of any themes used by Joss and his wonderful team of talented writers.

As always, I own nothing. It’s all the property of someone else kind enough to let me play. Now, on with the ficcy goodness. :-P



Snapshots of Eternity

Chapter Eleven:

Spin You to Thy Rest


Cordelia had been awake for three days. At first, she'd been exhausted- which was an odd sensation considering she'd been asleep for the past eight months. The exhaustion and disorientation had lasted only as long as it had taken Angel and Wesley to arrive from wherever they had been when the medical staff had alerted them of Cordelia's return to land of ‘the not in a coma.’

Like an avenging...well, angel, Angel had swept into the room, a good brood on his face. His eyes were cold and flat towards the senior medical staff, sending doctors, nurses and orderlies, alike, scurrying off to an elsewhere not inside her semi-private room. Then, just Angel, Wesley and herself remained. Cordy's deep, wide set eyes welled with the tears of relief that the vampire and the former Watcher turned rogue demon hunter had come for her. After the hell of the previous year - after the supernatural entity within Cordelia's body had torn apart all their lives - Angel and Wesley had still come for her.

It all came back to her in a rush—the guilt and the horror that she'd been unable to prevent the other from shoving all that was Cordelia Chase into some dark hole inside as it brought forth the Beast. Images of the pain she'd caused as ‘she’ played on the confused affections of the man-child she'd looked upon as a surrogate son...

No! Not me! That thing was controlling my body! I didn't...would never...

Great wracking sobs tore from deep down in her soul and Cordelia whimpered, burying her face in her hands so the men didn't see. Strong arms wrapped around her, and she jerked away from the comforting embrace. Or tried to, at least. They just held on tighter; Angel to her left, Wesley to her right, different as night and day, yet similar in their desire to ease her suffering as well as to celebrate the return of one whom they'd both thought was lost to them.

Neither man spoke as they held the third part of their triad—She’d been the heart and soul of what once had been Angel Investigations after Doyle had sacrificed himself to save the countless lives of beings whose only crimes had consisted of the fact that they were demon halflings. Until Gunn had come along, it had just been the three of them. A vampire cursed with a soul, a former Watcher ostracized by the Council to which he’d devoted his life in service, and a former Scooby, who’d left behind the Hellmouth once her family had lost all its wealth and possessions. Well, not so much lost, as the IRS had come and taken it all away in lieu of the taxes Daddy had never bothered to pay. Ever.

Then Gunn had reluctantly found himself as part of the group after the numerous times his gang of streetwise of demon hunters had crossed paths with Angel Investigations. Both leaders finding a common goal in their mission – saving the helpless from those creatures that went fangy and homicidal in the night. The young, tough black man had lost his entire family to vampires, his baby sister having been turned and subsequently staked by Gunn’s own hand.

This moment, however, wasn’t about Gunn. Or Lorne, the Pylean empath demon, whose world had imprisoned the sweet, introverted Texan, Fred, until Angel had rescued her on the way to rescuing Cordelia when she’d ended up in the alternate dimension.

This moment was about the three present-- Vampire, Watcher and Seer. All connected by memories of life as a white hat fighting evil atop a hellmouth. They were now linked in another way. Each had caused pain for the others in the years since forming Angel Investigations. Each had committed crimes against each other that would haunt them as they sought atonement for past sins.

Although her tears had stopped, they still sat on the narrow hospital bed and clung to each other. Cordy sighed from between slightly trembling lips and she closed her eyes. She reveled in the cool touch of Angel’s soft, firm lips pressed to her temple, while Wesley’s warm cheek rested in the crook of her neck.

The storm of emotions passed at last, and Cordy wriggled in attempt to get the men to move. “Guys, uh…not that I’m not glad to see you, cuz, I’m all with the so glad I’m not Coma Cordy anymore, but…Think we can get out of here? Think I’ve had more than enough of hospitals to last me the next forever.”


*************************************


Hours had passed since Cordelia had found herself once more a part of the waking world and she found herself wishing, at the oddest moments, that she were back in that other place. The place between the worlds where light met shadow, land of the eternal gray area.

Being back was painful. There was so much pain in the world. Death and disease; thousands of atrocities humans visited upon each other. Add to that the forces of evil, monsters of every ilk ready to tear flesh from bone and consume the souls of the innocent.

Dread had settled like a lead weight in the pit of her stomach. More and more memories were coming back to her, and Cordy felt the weight of knowledge pressing down on her soul. The burden of truth was a terrible thing as the Seer settled herself on the side of Angel’s bed opening a cardboard box filled with her personal effects Angel had saved.

A sad little smile curved her lips as she pulled her high school yearbook, still slightly charred around the edges. Sunnydale was gone now, with no sign that it had ever existed. Well, that wasn’t quite true. Now, there was nothing but a big dirt-filled crater where once there had been a town. One dark eyebrow arched slightly as the old saying ‘you can never go home again’ teased through her mind.

Discarding the yearbook without opening it, Cordy continued to rifle through the box’s contents. Photo albums and framed pictures, knick-knacks and little mementos of her time since moving to Los Angeles and taking up with Angel and his mission.

Tears filled her eyes as she came across a framed sketch she’d done after the very first vision she’d been given by the Powers That Be. Angel had framed the ugly little picture of the “gray blob-y thing” as a reminder that a piece of Doyle would remain with them always. The tears spilled over and tracked down her cheeks, unchecked by a woman whose mind now focused inward upon the memory of the Irish human/Brachen demon hybrid.

Sure, Doyle had drunk too much, gambled with money he didn’t have, and had worse fashion sense than a sixteen-year-old Xander Harris. But, that was Doyle. Despite all his faults, a very large part of Cordy had fallen in love with him. Despite the impenetrable walls she had built around her heart after the numerous times it had been broken, it was Doyle who’d wormed his way inside and refused to do the gentlemanly thing and leave.

More memories of the last five years brought with them the nearly overwhelming weight of knowledge gained, be it through experiences or what she acquired as she’d existed on that higher plane. Her tenure as a higher being had gifted her with the ability to see the big picture. And, oh boy, had she seen enough to know that she’d rather be ignorant. Past, present and future. She knew what was to come, though she also knew that the geas upon her wouldn’t allow her to actually communicate that knowledge. It was hers and hers alone. Curse and gift, both at the same time.

Shaking herself from her reveries, Cordy gently placed the framed sketch on the bed beside her and reached for another item within the box. “I know you’re there. I can feel you,” her voice rang out strong and true in the semi-darkness of Angel’s bedroom. “Might as well show yourself.”

With a wave of one slender hand, a ray of white light spread across the walls with a whisper of sound. That particular power had come as part of her demon package was one of the few things she was grateful for in the wackiness that was Cordelia Chase. A soft popping sound signified that the room was secure and cloaked from detection by the Senior Partners.

The figure lurking just outside the bedroom door entered, head down, footsteps silent on the plush carpeting. Cordy lay the video cassette in her lap and studied the intruder, gaze looking past the façade of strength and courage to see the fear so well hidden from the rest of the world.

“Must be exhausting,” the Seer’s voice was filled with compassion, and blue eyes snapped up sharply. “Playing all sides. Going against the natural order. You’ve no idea what you’ve done, no inkling of the events you’ve set in motion.”

Anger furrowed the smooth brow on the child before her, though not a word passed from the tightly closed mouth. Cordy waited a moment to see if her visitor would speak, her dark eyebrows rose when she was answered with silence.

“What?” she asked when the silence continued, “Nothing to say? Not like there is anything to say. What’s done is done, and there’s no way you can take it back.”

Again there was silence.

Cordy sighed as she felt a bit of maternal instinct rise within herself. “Does he know who you are, or why you’re really here? Do any of them know?”

A shake of the head, and the older woman was ready to scream in frustration at the stubborn silence she received as answers to her question. A brief glance at the tape in her lap and she had an idea. Rising, the brunette crossed to the entertainment system situated against one of the walls. “I want to show you something.”


*************************************

It was a couple hours, and way too much thinking than was healthy for her, later when Cordelia heard the ding signifying the arrival of the elevator. She was still seated on the edge of Angel’s bed, her visitor long gone and the video still playing. Her heart ached with a bittersweet longing to return to the early days of Angel Investigations when things had been somewhat normal despite the very lack of normality which encompassed all their lives.

She remembered the day this video had been made, and smiled a little as the ensouled vampire wandered into the bedroom. She spared him with a brief glance as she continued to watch Doyle onscreen, bright blue eyes filled with determination as the crystalline orbs surreptitiously flicked from the camera to the off-screen cue cards she’d written for him. Bad acting and discomfiture at being in front of the all-seeing lens making the half-demon’s shoulders hunch a bit and his hands fiddle with some object or another in the pockets of his wrinkled, ill-fitting pants.

“…so when the chips are down, and at the end of your rope, you need someone you can count on. That’s what you’ll find here. Someone who’ll go all the way. Someone who’ll protect you no matter what. So don’t lose hope.”

Pausing the tape, Cordy returned her gaze to the large figure standing in the doorway, inwardly delighted to find his dark eyes on the screen. “First soldier down,” she announced unnecessarily. She’d been preparing for this conversation since the moment she’d learned of Angel’s new position as CEO of Wolfam & Hart, evil Attorneys at Law.

And who the hell in their right mind would hire Harmony as their personal assistant? Nevermind that she’s as vapid as they come, she’s a freaking soulless vampire!


*************************************


The dark haired vampire had become very still beneath the intense scrutiny of the woman seated upon the edge of his bed. How many times had he dreamed of just one more minute with Cordelia's eyes focused on him? How many months, years, had he wanted to see her smiling and know that it was all for him? The months she'd spent on the higher plane had left a gaping hole in his life, and an even larger emptiness within his soul.

Once she'd been returned to him, her body had unknowingly been infested with the entity that would become Jasmine once it had used Angel's own son to conceive a flesh and blood vessel for it to inhabit.

She was speaking, and Angel forced away thoughts of the past as he stepped further into the room.

"Sorry," she murmured and fidgeted with the remote in her hand before dropping it onto the bed beside her. "I found this and-"

"No. It's okay," he assured her as he seated himself beside her. "You couldn't sleep?"

An unladylike snort was her answer. "God, no. I've slept enough to last me a lifetime."

Angel nodded his understanding. Turned so that he wasn't facing her or the screen but could see the reflection of both in the large windows overlooking the busy lights of Los Angeles. "It's been a long while since I've seen this," he admitted.

"Doyle pissed me off so righteously going out like that." Cordelia whispered softly. She glanced at Angel's back, knowing that she'd found the right method by which to broach this conversation. "But, he knew. He knew what he had to do and didn't compromise. He used his last breath to make sure you would keep fighting. I get that now." Do I ever...

Angel sighed, "Cordy...".

A moment passed while he struggled with what to say that would make her understand.

"There were reasons I agreed to take over Wolfram & Hart. Reasons you don't understand."

Apparently, that was the absolute wrong thing to say as the woman he loved launched herself up from the bed and paced across the room angrily before turning her furious gaze on him. Warning bells sounded in his head despite his demon's primal assessment that she'd never looked more gorgeous. God, help him, the man in him agreed as he tried in vain to force the lusty thoughts from taking over.

Then Catherine Cordelia Chase opened up that spectacular mouth and dumped a proverbial barrel of ice water over his head.

______________________________________________________


A/N: For Cordykitten & Nia. Thank you for the wonderful support and for your kind words.

Some dialog taken from AtS S5 episode “You’re Welcome”


Chapter Twelve:

The Devil’s Playground


Eyes glittering with aggravation, breasts heaving, face flushed, Cordelia faced him from across the room. Everything within her wanted to lash out at him in retaliation for the stupidity of his callous decisions. The arrogance he’d displayed in making choices, which affected the group at large. He’d been so determined to do what was best for Angel while masking it as what was best for everyone around him, that he had trapped them all in Hell.

That’s exactly where they were, too. Hell. He’d sold them all down the line to the wolves they’d valiantly beat from their door for years. And he’d done it either under the pretense that he’d had no other option or under the false illusion that, by signing them all up for eternal damnation, they could destroy the beast from within its belly.

Doesn’t he get that this is one battle that can’t be won?

“I understand just fine,” she flung out at him and turned to gesture to their surroundings, frustration mounting the more she looked at the swank furnishings provided by the evil empire. “They seduced you with all their fancy facilities, man power. They threw a whole bunch of money at you!”

She spun on her heels and paced away angrily as the vampire rose to follow. “They plied you with all these expensive toys, penthouses with spectacular views…” her words trailed off as her dark-eyed gaze fell upon said view. “Really spectacular…what was I saying?” she asked when she realized that she’d become distracted.

“I’ve been seduced,” Angel offered helpfully as he folded his arms across his chest.

Cordy pointed at him.

“That’s right, Pal,” she accused and returned to her regularly scheduled ranting. “Dazzled you with shiny objects! Expensive--” She resolutely turned her back on an obviously valuable abstract gracing the wall of his living room and once more faced the object of her frustrations. “There is no reason you can give me--”

“Connor,” he said quietly while avoiding her gaze.

The name took some of the wind out of her sails, though not for the reasons he would expect. When she spoke again, her voice was gentler, “Where is Connor? Why did Gunn ask…”

“They don’t remember him,” Angel interrupted before she could finish the question. “It’s part of the agreement for me to take over this place. The Senior Partners altered reality. They gave Connor a life. A real family and a childhood. Something I could never give him. He has no memory of us, and no one remembers him.”

Angel had moved past her as he spoke, and therefore missed the extreme heartbreak that washed over Cordelia’s lovely face before she thrust it beneath a mask of friendly compassion. He sat down on the arm of a sofa, bracing his hands on his knees and heaved a sigh. “Except you and me.” He looked down and muttered, “and Eve, for some reason.”

Taking a deep breath in an effort to bring her inner turmoil under control, Cordy looked away briefly before returning her attention to her old friend.

“So…,” she drawled as she moved closer to him, “not only did you strike a deal with your worst enemy to give up your son, you let them rape the memories of your closest friends who trust you?”

Angel flinched at her blunt words as well as the accusatory tone. “He was about to kill you,” he told her defensively, “and himself. He was so torn up. I didn’t know of any other way to stop him. No way to help him. Connor’s happy now.”

The vampire stood abruptly and began to pace. “We’re doing fine here. We’ve done some good work here.”

“Don’t give me that ‘we’re doing fine here’ company line!” the Seer snapped angrily. “I’m not buying it and neither are you. Neither are do the Powers That Be! Why do you think I’m here? Why do you think they’ve sent me back with a vision? Truth is, you’ve fallen off your path, and I’m here to put you back on it.”

“You’re wrong about the Powers,” Angel argued. “They’re not in my corner anymore.”

*************************************

The argument had become even more heated after Angel’s announcement of no longer being the PTB’s choice for Champion. No matter how hard Cordelia had tried to convince the ensouled vampire of his own self worth, she’d eventually reached the limits of her carefully wrought patience. Even though she remained somewhat a higher being deep down despite her earthbound status, Cordelia’s patience and control were not endless.

So she’d left the great glass and chrome tower of Hell, Inc. There were things that needed to be seen to and one place she felt she needed to visit for what could possibly be the last time.

The door to her old apartment opened the moment she’d come to a stop. A smile of pure pleasure stretched across her face, and Cordelia stepped inside, opening her arms. As a weight settled against her, she didn’t need to see the presence enveloping her to know what it looked like.

“How I’ve missed you, my ghostly friend,” Cordy whispered into the seeming emptiness of her former abode. An invisible kiss gently placed against her forehead was the answer she received. She was finally home; welcomed lovingly by her ghost, Phantom Dennis." Did you miss me?” she asked the apparition and could have sworn that she felt a slight rumbling laugh vibrate against her cheek. The door closed behind her, and Cordelia was tugged down a short hallway where a door lay open to reveal a bathroom. Dennis released her for a few moments in order to turn on the taps and drop a stopper into spotlessly clean tub. Steam rose on the still air.

A moment later, a bottle of rose-scented bubble bath floated into the room along with a light blue bathrobe, a couple soft, fluffy towels, and other assorted sundries. Everything was laid out lovingly before Dennis carefully peeled away his mistress’ garments. If she could have seen him, Cordelia would have seen a man completely besotted with the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.

A good hour passed as Cordelia allowed herself to be thoroughly pampered by Dennis’ gentle ministrations. All the tension and frustrations from her argument with Angel melted away with every glide of ghostly hands, leaving behind utter contentment that she knew would come to an end all too soon.

As though he had read her thoughts, the loofah sponge was dropped into the water, and unseen hands began kneading the tense muscles of her neck and shoulders.

Clean, dry and relaxed, Cordy returned to the unfurnished living room lit with the soft glow of white votive candles placed atop the mantle over an unused fireplace. Where Dennis had gotten them, she didn’t know. That was just Dennis. He had always taken very good care of her. And as much as she would have loved to bask in his unwavering devotion, she had things she had to do. People she needed to contact.

Seating herself upon the creamy beige carpet, Cordelia Chase closed her eyes and focused on the faces of Tara Maclay and Anya Jenkins.

*****

“About time you got here,” Anya told the Seer. “Any idea how boring things are when your only charge refuses to remain sober for any length of time? Sheesh! You’d think he had nothing better to do besides live at the bottom of a whisky bottle.”

“Anya,” Tara admonished the other spirit. “He’s heartbroken and empty. He lost nearly everything he ever cared about when the hell mouth collapsed. Now everyone’s gone their separate ways and he’s hurting.”

“Ladies, please,” Cordelia interrupted the other two. “We’ve got more important things to discuss than a Watcher’s self-embalming. If you two could focus for a minute?”

Sheepishly, both female spirits turned resolutely from their individual charges to offer Cordelia their undivided attention. “Yes, ma’am,” and “whatever,” were the replied assurances the earthbound woman received as she quickly took a seat on a nearby boulder.

For a moment, Cordelia breathed in the picturesque landscape. They had left behind the cemetery and traversed the Other Realm. The new setting was one out of some classic fairytale. Behind them, a large sparkling castle arose high and proud. The garden in which they sat was edged by boulders on which one could sit and look out upon a glittering ocean beneath billions of stars and an eternally full moon.

Cordelia sighed after a moment and returned her attention to the other two.

“It has begun.”


Tbc


Short chapter, I know. But the next one will make up for it, I promise.