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Forever and a Day by Lilachigh
 
Chp 12 Never Leave Me
 
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Forever and a Day by Lilachigh

Chp 12 Never Leave Me


Spike strode through the mist along a rough snow covered track that cut across the fields towards the road. He savagely thrust his hands into his coat pockets, wishing that there were something in front of him he could punch. The urge for violence was growing with every passing minute.

He’d always known, deep in his heart, that Wanker Giles and the Witch were only paying lip service to his being Buffy’s lover. For fuck’s sake, the Watcher had tried to get Robin Wood to kill him! No love lost there, that was for sure.

It had all been too good to be true. He found himself snarling into game face. Oh yes, live in a dream world why don’t you, Spikey boy! Come back to find her, lots of loving and tears and sex and a future together dangled in front of him, like some sodding Gem of Amarra.

And just like that it could all be wiped out, destroyed because her friends said so. He’d seen the expression on her face – just for a split second before she began her automatic protests. She’d looked scared; she’d looked as if whatever they said, she’d believe it.

And why shouldn’t she? He reached a stile and vaulted over it, cursing as his hand caught in a thorn bush, then stopping to lick the blood as it trickled down his wrist. After all, their relationship had lurched from one crisis to another, never giving them time to establish a true foundation of trust.

Spike stopped as the mist grew thicker. He couldn’t even see his feet now but knew he was up to his knees in snow. What the hell was he doing? There was nowhere to go, nothing to do, except look after his girl, whether she wanted him to or not. Because he was as sure as hell that the witch and the watcher wouldn’t.

A lumbering shape loomed up out of the murk. A big black and white cow mooed mournfully at him and he patted the bony body and pushed it gently away. Spinning round, he headed back, his vampire senses guiding him rather than his eyes. And he scented her before he saw her dark shape appear in ghostly fashion through the fog. She was standing by the hedge where he’d scratched his hand, touching the blood drops on the snow-covered bush with a shaking finger.

“Don’t worry, Slayer. It’s my blood. I suppose you’re just checking that I haven’t slaughtered half of southern England in the last ten minutes!”
He hadn’t meant to sound so bitter, but bloody hell, his love for this woman had driven him crazy several times in the last few years and this time was no exception.

Buffy stared at him and he winced at the hurt in her eyes. “I thought you were hurt,” she said quietly, wiping her fingers down her jeans.

“Been sent to warn me off, have you?” Spike swore silently. Why was he making such a bugger up of this? It wasn’t her fault. Old habits died hard and the witch and the Watcher had always had a hold over her. He knew only too well that they played on her feelings of guilt that she was different to them. Oh they wanted her to be different when it came to the slaying and the killing. They wanted her to have the plans and the energy and skill to put them into play. But they sodding well wanted her to be normal in between times. As if being a Slayer was something you could turn on and off just when it suited you.

Hands on hips, “I came to be with you,” Buffy snapped, hot colour flooding into her pale face. A year or so ago she would have backed away at his harsh words, hurt feelings waving in the breeze, but that was then, this was now. Nothing was going to come between them. Especially not Spike believing something that wasn’t true. “When you stop being such a bone-headed idiot, perhaps we can get back to solving the problem – together!”

She glared at her lover, then spoilt the moment by sneezing violently.

Spike felt all his anger vanish in a wave of concern. He strode forward, realising that she was still soaked through, shaking with the cold. The stupid buggers hadn’t even given her a change of clothing.

“I’m sorry, pet! Don’t pay any attention to me. I’m an idiot. And you’re going to be ill. Why didn’t you stay inside and get warm?”

“Y..y…yes you are an idiot! A p…p…prize winning, f…f…first-class, Xander level idiot! How c…c…could I stay there when they w..w…wouldn’t even let you over the threshold?” Her teeth were chattering violently as she spoke and he pulled her as close to his body as he could, although he realised there was no warmth for her to share.

“You looked – ” he paused, she seemed so small in his arms, so thin. “I thought – ”

“No, Spike, that’s just the point! You didn’t think,” she muttered, burrowing her head into the angle of his neck and shoulder. “You were like one of those pavlova dogs. One word from Giles and whoosh, you were off like a bat out of hell, all hurt feelings and snarling.”

“I can’t be a dog and a bat at the same time,” Spike murmured into her hair, deciding now wasn’t the time to tell her it was Pavlov’s dogs, not ones made out of meringue. “I saw your face when they said I couldn’t come in. You looked scared – ”

Buffy pushed herself away from him so she could look into his eyes. “I was scared! Terrified. I still am. At first I thought they’d been infected by the Plague in some way, then you vanished into the mist and left me alone, again! And I was right back a couple of years ago with everyone against me – except you. And even this time you seemed to be giving up before we’d even begun to fight.”

Tired green eyes clashed with weary blue ones and then Spike nodded slowly. “You’re right, Slayer. But I would never leave. On my way back now to find you.”

He stared out into the mist. He was desperate now to seek shelter. He could feel her shivering violently as he held her. She’d been soaked through for hours now and the biting cold was eating away at even the Slayer’s iron constitution. “This way,” he said finally and swept her up into his arms.

“Where are we going? You can’t see a thing in this murk.”

“Following my nose again, pet,” he said and strode into the mist. “There was a cow just now.”

Buffy began to giggle weakly. “How now brown cow? We had to say that in drama class, years and years ago.”

“Well, it wasn’t a brown cow, more like a black and white variety. And if there’s a cow, there has to be a cowshed. Stands to reason.”

“Sounds smelly,” she murmured, feeling a slow languor begin to seep through her body.

“It can stink to high heaven as long as it has a roof and four walls,” Spike replied. “Slayer! Stay awake! Stay with me, Buffy. You mustn’t fall asleep.”

“I’m so cold.” She felt herself sliding down into black sleep and forced her eyes open. She refused to give in to this. She would fight to stay alive, to stay with the man she loved.

The next few minutes were a jumble of feelings and noise. Buffy heard and felt Spike kick a door open, the freezing mist and snow went away and she was lying somewhere smelly but soft. She opened her eyes to find Spike tugging off her jeans and winced as the soaking denim clung to her bare legs. He tossed them aside and began to tug at her top.

Buffy found she was smiling. “I’ve seen you undress me fast before, sweetheart, but never with that expression on your face!”

Spike raised an eyebrow at her and tugged off her top. “Got to get you warm, luv.” He grabbed a handful of hay and began to chafe her skin, working his way along her arms, rolling her over and rubbing her back, down over her butt and along her legs until the skin began to turn pink and the shivering stopped.

She flipped herself over and grinned up at him. “Going to do my front now, Spikey?” She stuck her tongue out at him and the vampire hesitated for a second then growled deep in his chest.

“I don’t think we should – ”

He stopped as she grabbed his head and pulled him down on to of her, squealing as his cold wet T-shirt him her warm breasts. Her lips were warm under his and the Slayer strength in her hands held his head fast until he gave in and began to return the kiss.

He kicked off his boots, and his T-shirt and jeans followed hers. They made love with a quiet thankfulness that grew into a torrent of pleasure.

“Never...ever…leave…me…again!” she gasped as his mouth found her nipple and he groaned as she clamped her legs round his thighs and he sunk into the blazing heat of her core. He vamped into game face as he began to thrust harder and faster. She was a twisting, raging body in his arms and as he felt his fangs break her tender lower lip, he sucked greedily at the trickle of blood that filled his mouth.

Buffy was whimpering now, a high, keening noise that drove him wild. She rolled him underneath her and pushed up slightly with her hands, changing the angle of his cock driving into her and with a frenzy of speed and passion, he reached down with a finger and rubbed her clit at the same time, glorying in the screams that rang out as she climaxed first. Then, just when she was beginning to relax and the muscles in her legs loosened their grip on him, he swung her over, bent her knees up against her breasts and grinned as her eyes widened in startled pleasure and surprise at being so exposed to him and his desires.

Ten strokes later she was sobbing for release again, her nails clawing bloody trails down his back. He could feel her inner muscles spasm around his cock as he fucked her faster and faster until they came together in a blur of screaming sensation.

Buffy stretched and yawned. This was the first time she’d felt warm for what seemed like days. Then she tensed: she had the oddest feeling she was being watched. Snapping her eyes open, she turned her head to find two big dark eyes staring mournfully at her. Before she could move, a loud mooo rang out and the cow that was standing next to her, lowered its head and sniffed at her bare foot.

“EEEk!” Buffy leapt up, scattering the hay that was covering her like a blanket. She grabbed for her still damp jeans and hopped round on one leg trying to avoid the cow and get dressed.

“Spike! Spike! Where the hell are you? It‘s a cow. A big one.”

A door banged somewhere and a chill draught swept in. The cow mooed again, plaintively as Spike strode up to it, carrying a bucket. “Hi, sweetheart. You looked too comfortable to disturb. See you’ve met Buttercup.”

“It has a name?”

“All cows are called Buttercup, if they’re not called Daisy.” He grinned at her. “Whatever her name is, she needs to be milked.” His face changed and became grim. “God knows where the rest of the herd is, but this one has come back to the farm. But the milking parlour is deserted.”

Buffy edged carefully round the animal. It wasn’t that she didn’t like cows, because, hey, milkshakes, but this was a very large one. “And you’re milking her because…?”

“She needs to be milked. I’ve been up to the farmhouse. It’s deserted. No children, nothing. When they – “ He hesitated.

“Reverted,” Buffy added.

“Right, reverted back to being kids, they must have run off. It‘s just like we said right at the beginning, pet. People are going to be so freaked they’ll just start running and never stop. They’ll leave the animals to look after themselves. There are packs of dogs around. I’ve heard them howling. This old lady is lucky to be alive and not their next meal.”

Buffy watched fascinated as he sat down on a hay bale, pushed the bucket under the cow and milk began to squirt into the pail. Her lips twitched. Her mate had pieces of straw in his tangled blond curls but his long fingers were busy pulling and squeezing and the cow certainly didn’t seem bothered. Not for the first time in their relationship, she wished she had a camera.

“No one will ever believe me!” She sighed. “I suppose if I ask you where you learnt to milk a cow, you’ll come up with some ridiculous story set in your dim and distant past?”

Spike frowned for a second, then smiled up at her. “Nope, watched a TV programme about it! Very educational. I know how to sheer a sheep, too.”

Buffy pulled on her boots and tied back her hair. She felt so much better and that was puzzling. OK, they’d made love and that had been incredible, but now she knew she could run for miles, fight all the demons in England and still not be out of breath.

“Spike? Do you feel – ” She hesitated.

“Different?”

She remembered the time in the tunnel when he’d forced her to drink from him, to bring her back from the dreadful fate the plague had in store for her. “Is it your blood?” she asked.

Spike stood up, slapped the cow on its rump and watched as it wandered to the far end of the barn. He was several minutes ahead of his girl. He’d known as they made love that somehow she was even stronger than normal. She should have been exhausted. She’d been freezing cold, almost unconscious, but her powers of recuperation seemed enhanced even beyond that of a normal Slayer.

“Buffy – what exactly did Giles and Willow say to you about me?”

“What? Why? What they think doesn’t matter. We’ve sung this song before, Spike.”

He caught her by the shoulders and tilted her chin, dropping a brief kiss on her lips. “No, not going down that road, Goldilocks. But it isn’t just my blood that’s making you feel odd. It’s a combination of blood and the Plague. Look!”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a twisted piece of metal. “That’s the key to the farmhouse, Buffy. I twisted it in the lock as if it was a strand of soggy spaghetti. I think that’s what Giles and Willow have discovered. The Plague makes vampires and anyone carrying their blood, incredibly strong. In fact – ”

Breaking off a piece of wood from the hayrack with ease, he pushed it into her hand. “Little experiment, luv. Try staking me!”

To be continued










 
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