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Chapter 16

Buffy was just emerging from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her middle, when Spike let himself into the bedroom. He shut the door softly behind him and leaned back against it; his hands scrambled to find his smokes before he thought better of it. 

“You and Angel talk?” 

“Yeah, pet,” he replied and pushed himself away from the door and walked over towards her. 

“Everything settled now?”

She sat down before the vanity and started combing her hair, needing the rote motion to help calm her. The mirror didn’t reflect the anxiety on her face, thankfully, and she didn’t allow any of what she was feeling to transmit through the claim. Though, she didn’t shut it down completely; she knew better than to do that. 

She just didn’t want Spike worrying about her. 

Something must have given her away, however, because suddenly he was there. His hands resting lightly on her bare shoulders. 

“We’ll have a lot to talk about…” he told her, taking the comb from her hand and running it through her wet hair. “… once this thing with Illyria is settled. The return of his friends’ memories is going to have some serious fallout,” he added, referring to Angel’s breaking of Wolfram & Hart’s spell. “Kid’s got some issues…” 

“You’ll be there to help him,” Buffy replied, leaning back into his touch, taking pleasure in the simple act of him combing her hair. Unconsciously she began to purr, her eyes fluttering closed. 

“Tired, luv?” 

“Mmmm hmmm…” 

“Well, come on then. Let’s get you to bed. Not sure when Rupert’s gonna come get us. Need to be ready.” 

Spike reached around her and set the comb on the vanity. He easily lifted the Slayer into his arms and moved towards the bed. The towel fell away when he set her on her feet and he couldn’t prevent the slight hitch of breath as she stood naked before him. 

“Buffy…” he whispered, a bolt of lust going through him. Too long, he couldn’t help but think. Too long since he’d touched her. Her. Not the demon that had been so close to the surface. Too long since he’d made love to his mate. Slowly. Leisurely. With all the tender emotions he’d never been able to suppress – even after being turned. “Love, I…” 

“Yes… Spike, make love to me.” Make me forget. At least for a little while.

Spike shed his clothes in a matter of minutes, letting them fall to the floor. Then he was lifting her, settling her on top of the covers before coming to rest between her thighs, his body pressed against hers. Both gasped, like it had been days, weeks, since they’d done this. Spike kissed her, hoping to convey what she meant to him. 

Their world grew smaller and smaller until it consisted of only them. Every touch, every kiss, every softly whispered word of love they gave. It was all they needed, all they’d ever need. Spike nudged Buffy’s legs wider and slid home, and it only furthered the swell of emotion growing between the two. 

They rocked together slowly, nowhere near ready to end the dance anytime soon. Their eyes were open, staring intently at the other. Mouths moved soundlessly. Love you. Love you. Forever. A nod. 

Hazel and blue gave way to amber. Demons emerged. The vow was repeated. Forever.  

They moved simultaneously seeking the other’s neck. Blood splashed onto their tongues, throat muscles worked as they swallowed each other down. Climaxes hit after only a handful of swallows. Spike growled around the mouthful of flesh he couldn’t bear to part from just yet. Buffy froze, her jaw going lax in the grip of her orgasm. She whispered Spike’s name, or maybe Sire – she wasn’t quite sure. 

There was a blinding light before her eyes… and then nothing. Total darkness, but nothing worrisome. She was drifting, floating on a euphoric wave of post-coital pleasure. Free but for the fangs still lodged in her throat, that still sipped her occasionally. 

It was perfect. And for a moment she was content. Happy. She smiled, already halfway to sleep. 

“Rest, luv.” 

And she did, drawn into the comforting embrace of her lover. Her Sire. Her mate.

Spike watched her for a time, afraid that if he were to close his eyes, she would slip away. They’d yet to have their talk, about her habit of shutting him out. Even now, with her asleep, he could tell that she was hiding pieces of herself. That the contented feeling he could sense through the claim wasn’t everything. 

He knew she was upset about Dawn’s death, but not one trace of that was felt by him. And it worried him. Worried and astonished him that she had that kind of power.

The ability to manipulate the claim so easily. 

Finally he sighed. It would have to wait. Right now they needed to focus on dealing with Illyria. Prevent her from bringing back her army and unleashing hell on earth. 

Always something, he snorted. A nice apocalypse-free century would be nice. 

It wasn’t too much to ask. At least he didn’t think so. He smiled and closed his eyes, imagining his conversation with the Powers the others kept going on about. And though pumped on the Slayer’s blood, he managed to drift off, joining his mate in slumber. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“I’m coming with you!” 

“No, you’re not!” Buffy argued. 

“Look. You need me,” Faith snapped back, ignoring her boyfriend and his heated protestations. She’d spilled the beans about being pregnant, so to speak, and he’d been the most vocal in his displeasure at her leaving with the vampires to take on Illyria. 

“What I need is for you to take care of that baby you’re carrying,” Buffy insisted. There were gasps all around by the humans who’d not known, and Giles – who had been in Faith’s corner, citing strength in numbers as their best offense – quickly changed his vote, earning a grateful look from Robin. And a glare from Faith. 

“I can give ‘er a li’l love tap. Just enough to knock her out,” Spike threw out. 

Robin’s eyes narrowed, not that he believed the vampire would actually do it however. Even though a teenie tiny part of him wished he would. 

“I’d like to see you try, Blondie.” Hands on hips, Faith glared at Spike. 

Angel, ever the mediator, finally stepped in. “Faith—” 

“Uh uh… not you too,” she whined, seconds away from stomping her foot like a two-year-old.  

“Buffy’s right, Faith. We can’t chance you getting hurt.” 

“But…” 

“No buts. You’re staying and that’s final. Besides, I need you here to look after the others. There’s been no fallout with my abrupt resignation, but that doesn’t mean the senior partners aren’t planning some kind of retaliation. With you here, I won’t have to worry about their safety. Please, Faith. Can you just…?” 

“Fine!” She crossed her hands over her chest and glared at Angel, and not even her boyfriend snuggling up behind her, resting his hands over her middle was enough to get her to soften her stance. “But, if Illyria hands you your guy’s asses, I’ll be very vocal in my ‘I told you so’s.’” 

“Cheeky bint. I like that. Be good, sweets. Mind the shop,” Spike teased, ruffling her hair. Chuckling outright when Robin had to forcibly restrain her from hurling herself after him. “Robin, I’m sure you can keep her… entertained until we get back.” 

He sauntered out the front door, leaving Buffy and Angel to roll their eyes at his back. They quickly followed; Wesley and Gunn brought up the rear. 

The door closed behind the group and those remaining stared after them, long after the SUV roared to life and spun away. Each was wondering if the mission would be successful. Whether or not all of them would return once it was finished. 

Or if this had been the last time they saw their friends alive. 

Faith was the last to turn away, and she nearly collapsed in Robin’s arms. 

“It’s okay, baby. They’ll be back,” he murmured against her hair while he rubbed her back in a soothing manner. “Shhh…it’s alright…” 

He just prayed he wasn’t telling her a lie. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

The last of the bones disappeared and Knox sat back on his heels. 

“Showtime,” he grinned. 

“Save us a seat then?” Spike asked, leaning indolently against the wall; the tip of his sword rested on the marble flooring, the hilt he held loosely in his hand. 

“If not, we can just stand in the back,” Angel dead-panned. He, Buffy, and the two humans, Gunn and Wesley, were fanned out next to him. All were eyeing Illyria and Knox, practically daring them to make a move. All were carrying weapons – the most glaring, the red scythe held in Buffy’s hands. 

“Uh… news flash, guys? Illyria… about to raise her army. You can’t win this,” Knox told them. 

“Then we’ll all die trying,” Wesley informed him, his voice not wavering in the slightest. 

Illyria cocked her head to the side, trying to process what the human and half-breeds were attempting to do. “You would seek a confrontation that you cannot win?” 

“Yes,” Angel announced. 

“Why?” 

“Well, for starters… You murdered a girl. Stole her body,” Angel told her. 

“And you think that by attempting to kill me, you will get her back?” 

“No.” 

“Your actions… they are confusing to me.”

“Not the brightest one, is she?” Spike commented. He pushed himself away from the wall and brought his sword up. “It’s simple, Blue. You’re trying to take over our planet. We’re here to stop you. Okay?” He turned and looked at Angel. “Can we fight now?” 

Angel allowed himself a slight smirk. 

Illyria’s gaze centered on the blond. 

“You consider yourself a protector?” 

“Duh… ain’t you been listening? No wonder they sealed you away in a bloody sarcophagus. Pretty dumb for an Ancient.” 

Illyria didn’t respond to the insult. Instead she switched her attention back to Angel, who’d walked down the steps. 

“You would fight for their lives? All of these creatures’ lives.” 

“Yes.” 

“Even this one?” she asked, turning to look at Knox. 

“Uh…? King? Illyria…? Is that an issue? Is my life in peril?” 

Illyria ignored him; he was beneath her notice. Much like the quintet standing before her – though they, at least, provided a bit of amusement. 

“Yes. As much as it pains me to say it, even him,” Angel replied in answer to her question. 

The dagger sliced through the air and embedded itself in Knox’s throat. His eyes widened in shocked disbelief, then his body crumpled to the floor. No one bothered to look at the fallen human; he was already dead. Instead, they all focused on the vamped Slayer now fisting the scythe in two hands. 

Spike would have given his mate an “atta girl,” if not for the fact that her victim had been human, and she wasn’t supposed to be taking human lives.  

“Buffy,” Angel growled. 

She just shrugged, like Knox’s death was of no consequence. And Spike knew in that moment that they were dealing with her vampire demon. As quickly as it powered its way to the fore, her demon faded away, leaving behind Buffy – a very determined Buffy. 

“He killed Dawn,” she said, as if that were explanation enough. 

“You killed my Qwa'ha Xahn!” Illyria snarled. 

“Oops?” 

“This mean we get to fight now?” Spike asked. He didn’t wait for an answer, throwing himself at the Ancient while her attention was diverted. It didn’t help his cause, however; he was easily caught and thrown back against the wall. His sword slipped from his grasp and clattered to the ground, and he wasn’t far behind. He slumped there, spit out a mouthful of blood and attempted to clear the stars swimming before his eyes. 

That was the signal for the others to attack. Angel led the charge, his sword up and ready to cleave Illyria in two. He growled, vamped, put on a burst of speed… and ended up in much the same position as Spike, rubbing his jaw where he’d been backhanded. 

Buffy and the others weren’t faring much better, though Angel noticed that Illyria was avoiding the scythe completely. 

Interesting. 

Angel scrambled to his feet and retrieved his sword, Spike right behind him, if somewhat the worse for wear. The two charged Illyria on either side, hoping that one of them would be able to land a blow. Their eyes widened as she gripped the tips of their swords in either hand and slowly brought them in front of her – like she was inspecting the edge for its sharpness. A second later, she’d disarmed them both and sent their weapons skittering away across the floor. 

Spike shrugged and threw himself at the Ancient, fists and fangs were just fine with him. He got in a lucky hit since she wasn’t expecting the move… not that it did any good; she barely even flinched. 

It did, however, anger her that he’d dared touch her. Her hand closed around his throat and she proceeded to pummel him in the face until he hung limp in her outstretched hand. When she’d had enough, she tossed him aside, where he lay unmoving. Unconscious after the beating he’d taken. 

Buffy screamed Spike’s name and threw herself into the fray. Only to freeze, mid-leap, as Illyria waved her hand and distorted time. 

Illyria gave a cursory glance to the others, then waved her hand again. The portal leading to her army appeared and she smiled and turned away. 

Angel was there waiting for her. Grinning. 

“How?” 

Angel held up one of the crystals from her sarcophagus. “It’s connected to you. I’m connected to it.” 

“Sneaky.” 

Illyria backhanded him, knocking him into Buffy.

“You’re too late,” she told him. “My army will rise. This world will be mine once again.” 

She jumped into the yawning opening and disappeared. 

With Angel now touching Buffy, she fell to the ground, Slayer reflexes enabling her to land on her feet – her hand still touching him. 

“Hurry! She’s getting away!” she cried. 

Together the two jumped into the portal after her. Right before it disappeared. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

“No. It can’t be,” Illyria whispered and fell to her knees. Unmoving, she stared out at what had once been her kingdom, now lying in ruins before her. “It’s gone. My world is gone.” 

“Now you know how I feel,” Buffy growled. She raised her scythe, intent on striking the death blow. 

But Illyria turned. Blue melted away, leaving her sister – Dawn – staring up at her with tears in her eyes. 

“Buffy?” 

“Dawnie?” Buffy froze; her weapon nearly slipped from her hand. She didn’t see the slight smirk from Illyria, or hear Angel’s, “it’s not her, Buffy. It’s not your sister.” The scythe fell from hands that were now shaking. She took a step forward, and then another. Her hand lifted, reached out as if to touch her sister’s face. 

Illyria surged to her feet and punched the Slayer in her face, the force of it hurling the blonde several yards away. 

However, she’d not counted on the other vampire. 

Angel palmed the scythe and plunged the stake side into her chest. A vicious twist, which caused Illyria to gasp in pain, then he pulled it free. While the Ancient was reeling from the blow of the Slayer weapon, he twirled it in his hand. He swung, growling ferociously, bent on severing Illyria’s head from her shoulders before he could stop himself. 

Buffy screamed her denial. 

“Angel! Nooooo!” 

Angel watched the body slump to the floor. The skin-tight multi-colored leather cat suit disappeared, the magic sustaining it now gone. He shrugged out of his coat and covered what he could. 

“I’m sorry, Buffy,” he murmured as he turned. 

She wasn’t there to hear his apology. Seeing Angel kill Illyria… it was like losing her sister all over again. 

Her mind shut down and she ran.

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