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Ancient shades by Kur
 
21
 
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Thanks to Melissa, my extraordinary beta.

CHAPTER 21

Buffy slid inside the hot water with a sigh. She had never run so much in her entire life. From a roaring fire and a roaring demon chasing them till he couldn’t walk anymore. Her lungs had stretched to an impossible size and even when they had jumped into a carriage, it had taken half the way to breathe normally again.

So they were back in that poor, small place where they should have stayed in the first place and it felt as a corner of paradise after what she had gone through. Not that much. Even in that metal tub wrapped in the steam that spun from the hot water. A hot bath he had paid for… She felt useless as never before. Of course she had been the one with that useful idea of breaking the gas lamp on Angelus’s back. Yet, it didn’t mean anything. She could have staked him good and proper if she had had half of her usual strength. Instead of being chasing a Lord, she was jeopardizing William’s future. ‘Cause, she was going to leave. Leave him alone with those maniacs who were his family and… He was going to be forced to pay. And that made her heart bleed in agony.

What was worse, William, soon Spike, was going to hate her for more than a century. She couldn’t tell him the truth. Would he help her? Would he understand? Hey, I’m the Slayer by the way. Powerless but still one. And I’m here just to save my Watcher and my world and our love. Yes, love. Was impossible to deny it anymore. Weren’t those his hands rinsing her skin with a sponge? Wasn’t that his voice telling her everything was going to be all right? Weren’t those not candle lights but his beautiful amber eyes, looking at her as if she were the only woman on earth? As much as she had always wanted to contradict it, she adored the way in which he protected her. Being there when she needed him, in spite of never having asked him. That sixth sense he had when it came to her things, to her safety. Her happiness… Somehow he had the key to the secret rules of her heart.

And she needed him more than ever. Not only his body, but his strength and his arrogant but wise ideas just to help her play her cards well. Go somewhere where she could find this man and convince him to take the next ship to the moon if that’s what it took to push him far enough from Angelus. Maybe packed in that Jade Chest of his just to prevent it from being stolen. She had never been a liar, at least not to Spike. But now… She couldn’t have William there. No when she was going to jump through a portal with only one man on track, showing him that she too had been used him for her purposes.




Leaning against the wall on one foot due to the pain that still twitched in his sprained ankle, William heard the soft crying that came from inside the room. It made his guts twirl. After promising to himself he was going to be faster and punch first, he’d made the same bloody mistake. In fact, he had made the first mistake when he’d left that safe place pursuing a better place only for a woman. Something hit the wall inside the room. Hard and sharp as a shot. His hand opened the door before he could think of it.

Stepping out from the tub, Buffy walked towards the bed where a big white cloth was waiting for her dripping body. Tears were still rolling on her cheeks, slowly replaced by a burning anger. A metal box of what turned out to be white powder served to let off steam. But it wasn’t enough. Things she could have done with that fucking bastard if only…
The sudden noise at the door made her grab the cloth. Just in time to see William dithering at the threshold. Her hand pressed the fabric against her chest like a Greek goddess.

“I thought something… I’m sorry.” He took two steps back as though he was about to leave the room but shut the door instead. “Maybe I’d stay here… Just in case…”, - he suggested sheepishly and began to turn round to face the door. The soft call of his name stopped him.

The kiss was soft and sweet. It reminded her of that first one they had shared under the crossed gaze of a stone icon. Almost a year had passed. The memory brought new tears to her eyes. Pressing her body against his taut one, she changed the grip on the cloth for his wetted shirt while his arms, unsurely at first, finally raise her in the air. He placed her on the bed, the wet cloth forgotten on the floor as a drenched odd wedding dress. A mixture of fragrances entered through a broken windowpane. Tea, lilies, roses, pine and dozens of other things stored at the Hay’s Wharf warehouses waiting for the clippers to receive their cargo. His palm traced the curve of her thigh and stopped on her hip. Wasn’t the time to touch her in a rude way. She’d had enough of that for the night. All he wanted, all he craved was lying there with her, kissing her, enjoying the warmth and the sweetness of her delicious mouth.

Buffy squashed against him. Strange and erotic feeling that of bare skin against soft fabric. Her fingers sank in his shoulders with a dazzling urgency. His scent was different. There were no cigarettes there. Or booze, or leather. But his lips were as demanding and silky as they’d always had been. She softly bit them before her tongue dived inside his mouth and her hands became a yoke on the nape of his neck. So much she had missed him. So much that her body had taken over every single complaint in her mind. He’s not him. He’s not him. Two times and the tiny voice was send to sleep in the furthest corner of her soul. One of her legs trapped his calf as a strangled whimper filled her throat.

William pulled backwards, misunderstanding her cry. He wasn’t a monster like Angelus. He wanted her to want him but not under any external pressure or due to any twisted feeling of gratitude. Her eyes were glazed and dark. No traces of green. “Go to sleep now, love. He won’t touch you again.”

Sleep? Sleep? She was bursting and he wanted her to sleep? Turning round she faced the window just not to show him her pain. Spike would have never done that. Left her in desperate need. Not because he was a perv, ‘cause he was and that was one of the hundred of reasons she found him the sexiest and hottest man on the galaxy, but because he just wanted her and loved her the way she did. Obviously, it’d take a century for that to happen. Her body stubbornly refused to wait for that long. A blanket was pulled carefully over her twitching skin. She shivered when one of his arms enfolded her waist, pulling her closer.
Her gaze fell to his big hand resting on her stomach. So he wasn’t going anywhere… Her fingers entwined with his as her eyelids began to slide down. Never realized how tired she was... Maybe it was better this way. Maybe she could wait after all.



Buffy woke up. A gentle rain thudded against the window. Her eyes hung from the grey and sad sky feeling his presence at her back. Still clothed under the blanket, he was trussing her up with his arms as the most precious treasure. Buffy sighed and a slow smile curved her lips. She knew she had to go. But it was impossible to escape from that prison in which she’d die happily. Even knowing… Moving slowly to one side, she finally sat up against the pillows. He looked so young… No bleached hair gave him a childish look, a more innocent one. Paler under the greyish gleam of the window and yet as beautiful as ever. She had never woken up in his arms before. Too afraid of being caught. She’d have never forgiven herself if by any chance her mother had opened the door of her room one morning only to find out a naked, glorious vampire comfortably spread on her bed. She had fantasized about that, though. Every night she braced herself, imagining his arms were around her. Imagining his low, sleepy voice greeting her in the mornings. His blue eyes looking at her the way only he could look at her. An explosive blend of love and passion, sweet and raw, caring and possessive. Her fingers outlined his face, those lips she loved, his nose, the forearm still lingering across her legs. She should be going by then. Walk the streets finding clues. Now he was completely unaware. Now she had the chance of disappearing without further explanations. Only one more minute. Only one… She lay down again, facing him, all her body in full contact with his. One of her thighs crossed on his leg, her arm possessively wrapping around his waist. She kept looking at him till she finally felt asleep again.


The soft rain was gone, leaving behind it a chilling gale that howled under the roof tiles like ghouls. A cold, tender breeze was grazing her back. Buffy moved forward, snuggling tightly between Spike’s arms. Never opening her eyes, she tilted her head to one side enjoying the cool caress of his tongue. Her fingers played with the buttons of his shirt, unfastening one after the other with delighted slowness, till her palms pressed his bare chest. When had he worn shirts? Didn’t matter… She felt like if the wind could take her to fly in any minute. Her tongue tasted one of his hard nipples, sucking and licking in charmed circles while her hand went down to his pants.

William’s hands skated down her back reaching the round curves of her ass, bringing her closer. Pushing her lightly, he half-laid on top of her, his leg slinking between hers. With a growl he captured her mouth in a hungry kiss, feeling her fingers unbuttoning his trousers, pushing them down till she couldn’t reach anymore. Her feet completed the task while her hands clutched his hair to keep him in place. Slowly, as though she hadn’t welcomed him enough, he slid between her legs. The full contact with her skin made him thought of lightning-bolts hitting a high needle. White violent sparks filling the air, crackling in the complete silence of the early evening. Her palms outlined his hips with such reverence… His only experience with sex had been a ravenous, wild debut with his Sire. Had left him bruised and dizzy. He had enjoyed it, though. But there had been something missing. Something he had dreamt about as a human, in those long nights he’d spent awake wondering how it’d be to hold a woman, a loved woman in his arms. Too much like this…

Buffy pulled back a little. She needed air… The room was black and white with only one spot of colour. Blue. His blue eyes fixed on hers. So many things they kept in its depths… The same dark glint that shimmered in Spike’s eyes whenever he was kissing her. As if he were aching inside... Something that had always shook her to the core taking away her breath. She had never understood it. Maybe ‘cause she had been so busy denying her true feelings… It was love. Raw and overwhelming. Of the kind that promised her he’d never leave him. That he would be there forever, whether she liked it or not. So intense that sometimes she had to close her eyes just not to be burnt as a moth by the blue fire. And his skin… His whole naked body pressed against her. As never before… A pang of sadness veiled her eyes.

Hours before, when he had fallen asleep, William’d dreamt of this. Well, something similar. A bit rougher. He was pressing her against the wooden surface of a wall, lost in that huge mansion. His hand digging, peeling the layers of laced linen under the skirt of her blue silk dress, hitching the petticoats up, reaching warm, smooth skin. A fire had been burning somewhere while the tip of his fingers outlined the curve of her thighs and his mouth tasted her neck and then his tongue went further down, flicking on one dark nipple. He had dreamt she liked it. Just like now when he finally touched those full breasts that had bewitched him since that night in the carriage that was taking him to his death. He sucked at the pink bud as if it were the sweetest thing. One and then the other. Rubbing his cheekbone against its hardness, making her moan and arch upwards. The soles of her feet leisurely caressed his calves; her hands ran along his back, his shoulders, drinking in the velvety cadence of his muscles.

The wrath he had felt when Angelus had touched her so intimately… It’d been choking. He’d never thought he would be scared anymore. No in this brand new life where he was supposed to be the master of fears. The dealer of darkness. Then it had been the true, primitive and intense desire to kill. Stronger than when he fed. He’d have ripped the fingers from that intruding hand that was profaning her flesh. That flesh his tongue was now worshiping. Dru had taught him that. She had tasted so different! Cold as a squall, with a faded scent of dead jasmines. Nothing as warm and fragrant as this sleek human panting under his touch. Waves of lavender scent waved off her skin; the remains of the soap she had used for her bath. Her warm skin was threatening to liquefy his body, as the sun would have done with a wandering iceberg. She trembled and quivered and mumbled bitten words against the pillow when an orgasm shook her blood.

Buffy tugged at his hair, still shivering. She welcomed his hungry mouth; her hand hastily running to the throbbing erection pressed against her belly. Her teeth nibbled his lower lip, the tip of his nose, one earlobe. She was sailing in this daydream in which everything had been erased from her mind. Present, past or future. Nothing but the exquisite sensation of having him again on top of her, enjoying the searing coldness of his palms raising her hips a little, sketching his delicate and beautiful features, guiding his silky, swollen cock to her demanding entrance. She was slinging in the air as a line of colourful flags between the trees. Swaying gently, matching his sluggish movements. Taking her time, as he did, for this to last forever.

William thrust slowly, his eyes closed; his head threw a little backwards. Sinking in this ocean of fire a flashing image past across his forehead. His hand burning under the sun. The steam wavering from it as he challenged his grandsire with daring eyes. The hot rays had nearly melted his bones. He was melting now. In a riot of senses and nerves. Her legs wrapped his waist, imperatively, and he couldn’t but push harder, faster; his hands holding the round slim curves of her shoulders, his tongue battling with hers. Swivelling like the leaves that spun in crazy whirlpools in the streets. Groaning and moaning like the freezing wind outside. Drops of sweat glistened between her breasts and he licked them as if he were tasting blood. Her eyes were fixed on that spot. He could feel them while he traced her breasts with his tongue, when he sucked at them, when he nibbled the soft flesh of their contours. His hand cupped one of them, pushing it up like the corset had done. Her gaze was made of hot coals. As though she were expecting something else she quickened her pace, her fingers firmly sank in his ass-cheeks. Their eyes met and the plea he saw there triggered off his roaring orgasm.

Buffy enfolded him with arms and legs, shuddering by the intense heat of her own release. She held him there, trembling between her legs, till he finally rolled on the mattress in complete silence. A slight crease wrinkled his forehead and brought a waterfall of guilty feelings to her heart. What had she done? Spike would never forgive her. Even if, technically, she hadn’t cheated him. Jealousy wasn’t an issue Spike handled very well…
Maybe it was time to do what she had come to do in the first place. Stop dreaming and indulging herself in the aching lie of having him back. Her legs bucked a little when she got off the bed looking for a glass of water. The floor welcomed her bare feet with an icy surface. Her teeth rattled while she poured the water in a glass, fighting the hot tears that hung from her eyelashes. Suddenly, her hand froze in the air. As if the icy floor had turned her into a statue. Her eyes widened as her shaking hand seized the tickets lying on the table. Opera House. Tonight. Verdi. She nearly choked.


His shocked gaze was stuck to the smeared windowpanes, gawking at the leaden sky. She had wanted him to bite her. It had been so written in her face, in her darkened eyes, in her parted lips that it had puzzled and overtaken his last threads of control. He didn’t want to consider what would have happened if he’d obliged. Could have he stopped? A rush of lust travelled through his body making him hard again. He licked his tongue and wrestled the strong need to grab her arms and pushed her under him once more, now that she had climbed on to the bed again. The swinging tickets in front of his eyes allowed him to brush thoughts aside. Drawing a smile he turned round to face her. She looked radiant. Even under the greyish glow of that awful evening.

“So, you’ve found them…” Anything to put his mind off the intoxicating smell of her body, off the powerful beat of her blood. “Want to go? I think we’re in time…”

“It’d be so exciting…” Buffy leant forward to kiss him, feeling a nasty knot compressing her guts. How could she be such a slut? But she had to… She had to and he would understand. In a century but he would. Her face disappeared in the crook of his neck, desperately hiding her grief. God, how she hated herself!

tbc...
 
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