In My Eyes

by SpikesKat

\\ … \\ = Buffy’s thoughts
// … // = Spike’s thoughts
/*/ … /*/ = Grace’s thoughts
/#/ … /#/ = James’ thoughts

“Maybe I’ll sleep underground. Dig myself a li’l burrow.” White-tipped red fingernails clawed through the flowerbed.

“What about your pretty dress, sweet? It’ll get all dirty,” Spike replied, annoyed. 

// Bloody wheelchair. Bloody Angelus and his hornin’ in and tryin’ to take over. Dru getting off on it. Soon. Bloody soon. //

“Then I’ll sleep naked. Like the animals do.” Dru laid down and writhed on the stone floor amongst the scattered dead leaves. Crazy laughter erupted in the garden - hers. Giggling. Tickling.

Any other time Spike would get off on the sound. But not now, not with him here.

“You know, I’m suddenly liking this plan,” Angelus grinned. Evil glint, eyeing his crazed childe. He sat on the bench, watching. Predatory-like. Only a matter of time before Dru’s his again. Just the thought of taking something away from Willy-boy – again – makes his smile widen even more.

// I should get up. Get up and show him. Show them both. // “Fortunately, nobody cares what you like, mate,” he snapped. // Oh to get up out of this chair… //

“Oh, yeah? Let’s ask Dru.”

Maniacal laughter. Rolling back and forth on her back in her pretty dress – oblivious. Muttering about things only she could see.

// My wicked plum, so perfectly evil. //

“There’s a gate! It’s opening!” Dru sat up, eyes glazed over, her body locked in a trance as the images come to her.

“Incoming! I love when she does this.” Angelus got off the bench, crouching low, eyes never leaving Drusilla. Eyes that gleamed with an unholy light.

“What gate, pet? What do you see?”

// Get away. Get away. She’s mine. Mine! //

Drusilla sat up on her knees, bouncing up and down like a little child. “It’s black. It wants her.”

Angelus crawled over, his hulking body nearly touching Dru’s back. “Wants who?” he asked, his chin coming to rest on her shoulder.

“The Slayer,” she whispered, still locked in her trance. She climbed to her feet, beginning to sway. Angelus was right behind her, a hairsbreadth away, mimicking her actions. “It’s time, Angel. She’s ready for you now. She’s dancing. Dancing with death.” And she’s dancing too, forward and back, hands clawing at the empty air.

“Big deal,” Spike grumbled. “He won’t do anything.”

Angelus stilled, glaring at the blond. His upper lip curled in a snarl.

“Our man Angel here likes to talk but he’s not much for action. All hat and no cattle.” Spike’s words were cutting, jabbing at his grandsire.  // Let go. Mine. Mine! //

“I don’t know about that,” Angelus snarled. He openly taunted Spike, grabbing his childe about the waist and drawing her back against him, grinding her ass into his cock, then twisting her so that she’s facing him now. Eyes locked on Spike and ignoring the effect he’s having on Dru, he trailed his fingers down her stomach, lowering his body as he goes until he’s kneeling before her. “I think this whole slayer thing has run its course. I’m ready to focus my energy… elsewhere.”

“Really?” One word, clipped. // Don’t show the wanker he’s getting to you. //

“Oh, yeah!” Angelus’ face was now even with Dru’s pussy, and he lingered there; his fingers danced over the space just to the right of it. He ignored the arousal of his childe, though his nose flared slightly at the scent of it. No, he was out to put the boy in his place, drive home the fact that Spike was an invalid and couldn’t stop him from doing whatever he wanted. Whenever he wanted. “What, with you being ‘Special Needs Boy,’ I figure I should stick close to home. You and Dru can always use another pair of… hands.”

Seething anger ripped through Spike.  // I’ll show him, just see if I don’t! // He watched through narrowed lids as Dru and Angelus dance out of the garden and back into the mansion. Wanted to get up and prove that he wasn’t “Roller Boy” anymore… that he hadn’t been for a while now. He’d take Dru back, right from beneath his grandsire’s nose.

Then Dru’s tinkling laughter came back to him, sounds of clothes being torn, her admonishment of “bad Daddy,” to which the male just chuckled evilly.

Sitting there in the chair, he could feel each muscle in his body tense. He stood slowly, eyes gleaming with a desire for retribution. A plan hatched; he’d get Dru back and piss off Angelus at the same time. While the two of them were going at it, he’d get the Slayer. Bag his third.

No way Dru wouldn’t come back to him then.

// Kill the Slayer. Use her neck as a chalice, then come home and reclaim what’s mine. //

~*~*~*~*~

Buffy turned and fled, her body in complete possession by Grace. /*/ Gun… gun… James has a gun. Must get away before… /*/

“Don’t walk away from me, bitch!” Spike roared; the handgun shook slightly in his hand as he held it out in front of him, targeting the fleeing girl. When she disappeared from sight, he started after her, his heavy boots echoing loudly in the deserted hallway, drowning out the buzzing wasps that covered the school.

Buffy slammed into the door, her strength sending it crashing back against the outer wall, then burst out onto the balcony. /*/ Closer… he’s getting closer. Have to get away… No— /*/

“Stop it! Stop it! Don’t make me…” Spike shouted.

She froze, her back to him. Her chest heaved from where she struggled to draw enough air into her lungs. Adrenaline was pumping through her veins; it took her a moment to steady herself enough to slowly turn around and confront the enraged male behind her. Finally, she did so, her hands up… supplicant.

“All right… just…”

She took a step closer – small, hesitant, wanting to assure him that she wasn’t going to run anymore.

“You know you don’t want to do this. Let’s both… calm down,” she begged. “Now give me the gun.”

Buffy lifted her hand, silently begging Spike to relent.

/*/ Please, James… /*/

/#/ Treating me like some kid… like I… /#/

“Don’t! Don’t DO that! Don’t talk to me like I’m some stupid—”

*POP*

The gun went off and Buffy flinched as the bullet slammed into her stomach. She gasped around the pain, hands instinctively seeking to cover the wound… knowing it wouldn’t be enough. Already she could feel herself getting weak and she fell back against the railing. Then it was gone and she was falling through the air.

/*/James… /*/

Her body hit the stairs and exploded in pain.  /*/ Why am I not dead yet. Oh please… Pain… hurts… /*/ The blackness consumed her and she felt nothing.

Spike stared at the vacant spot the Slayer had been standing.

“No… No!” /#/ Grace! /#/

He dropped the gun like it was a vat of holy water and was at the railing in an instant. Beneath him, the Slayer lay sprawled on her back, one leg twisted at an odd angle. Her eyes were closed, her face wracked with pain; her chest barely moved as she tried to draw her last remaining breaths. The scent of her blood nearly overwhelmed him.

/#/ Grace… what have I done? /#/

Spike vaulted the railing and landed in a crouch beside the Slayer.

/#/ So sorry, Grace. I love you… Sorry. Sorry. Sorry… Didn’t mean it. Forgive me, love. Sorry. /#/

He pulled her seemingly lifeless body into his arms and rocked her. Her heartbeat was fading and Spike wanted to howl his pain to the heavens.

/#/ Not again… please, god, not again. Can’t lose you again, Grace. Please. Fight, love. Fight. So sorry. /#/

Bending down, he placed a kiss against lips growing colder by the second. Tears were falling steadily now, splashing onto the Slayer’s ashen cheeks. He continued his litany, begging for forgiveness as he showered her face with kisses. Then it was like he was suddenly imbued with knowledge. His lips ghosted over her neck, easily finding the vein that was frantically throbbing away just beneath her skin as her heart tried to compensate for the rapid loss of blood. Fangs elongated and pierced her flesh, tapping into her life source.

// Bloody fuck! //

Just an instant of thought by Spike, the sweet elixir of Slayer blood too strong to keep him subdued by the ghost possessing him. His eyes rolled up and he growled, drawing the body of the Slayer even closer.

Then James was back in the driver’s seat.

/#/ Forgive me, Grace. /#/

Instinct guided him to pull away and slash awkwardly at his wrist until blood welled from the cut. When it was about to spill over onto his arm, Spike lowered it to the Slayer’s mouth. Her slight cough was like music to his ears, though pain-riddled as it was; it meant that she’d swallowed, was still alive. That there was hope yet.

As her throat muscles worked to ingest his blood, Spike lowered his head; his mouth and fangs reclaimed the mark he’d made just a moment ago and unwittingly claimed his third Slayer.

/#/ Soon, Grace. Love you. /#/

Silence descended as he finally drew back and stared down at the lifeless body of the Slayer, and not even the constant buzzing of the swarm surrounding the high school could penetrate his bubble. He would have stayed there if not for the sudden dissent among the wasps. Someone had walked through them. Something… undead.

Displaying far more care than the vampire normally would, he carefully lifted the girl held in his arms and started walking away from the school. The swarm detached itself and settled around Spike, cocooning him and the Slayer in a protective seal.

The sun was going to be up soon, and some inbred thought told him he couldn’t be around to see it. That it was harmful – both to him and the girl he held in his arms. He thought long and hard, trying to come up with a place he could go. To wait.

/#/ Think, man, think! /#/

He smiled suddenly, remembering. Their first date. How the two had arrived separately, him just after the lights had gone down. He’d found her easy enough, tucked into the back row of the nearly deserted theater. It had been a school night, and the latest showing. He remembered being tired the next day, how he’d had to pay extra attention in all his classes so he wouldn’t fall asleep. Wouldn’t do to have his grades slip.

His booted feet ate up the pathway to the abandoned theater. A newer model had been built not far from the two-screened older one almost two years ago. Sporting fourteen screens and stadium seating, the youths of Sunnydale had quickly converged on the new Sunnydale Cinema, and six months later, the owner had reluctantly closed his doors. Now it was deserted, the perfect place to wait for his girl to wake up.

To tell him she forgave him.

Only then could he rest.

~*~*~*~*~

The front doors of the theater rattled against their hinges and finally gave way. Spike walked inside and the swarm followed him, creating a barrier on the inside of the building. The doors slammed shut behind the last wasp and he was sealed away, protected from the sun and anything else that would do him harm. And with the swarm on the inside, rather than out, the building looked just at it always did – vacant.

Spike strode into the closest theater and sat down in one of the chairs in the corner. He settled the Slayer in his lap and laid her head against his shoulder. 

/#/ Come back to me, Grace. Please come back to me. /#/

Time slipped by and the sun eventually rose. And though he was pumped full of Slayer blood, the constant buzz of the swarm soon lulled Spike to sleep.

~*~*~*~*~

The fidgeting on his lap woke him out of a sound sleep. Not since before his accident – heck, even long before that – had he felt so completely rested. Spike had a moment of lucidity and then James was there, staring down at Grace. Grateful to see her smile up at him so innocently.

“I’m sorry. So sorry, Grace,” he murmured, sitting her up so he could look her eye-to-eye.

“Shh… it wasn’t your fault.” Her hand caressed his cheek. “It was an accident. It was… you thought I didn’t love you anymore. I’m the one that should be sorry.”

“Grace…”

“No… I… James… I love you. I loved you with my last breath.”

Spike’s eyes began to shimmer. Love for the woman he held in his arms apparent for all that might happen to see. Around them, the swarm buzzed louder.

“Shhh… no more tears,” Buffy murmured and she leaned up and kissed him. Lightly at first, then with increasing ardor – until the two moaned simultaneously.

Spike’s tongue darted out, lapping at the Slayer’s lower lip.

“Let me in,” he begged. And she did. He pulled her close, delving his tongue deep into her mouth. Tasting her. Learning her. His tongue snaked along her teeth, blunt for now—

Spike didn’t even wince when a fang nicked him. Blood spilled out onto his tongue and the passive woman he held in his arms growled and attacked.

\\ Taste so good. More. Sire. Need… more. \\

Buffy’s fingers fisted in Spike’s hair, drawing him closer.

/*/ Love you, James. Love you. Yours… take me. /*/ 

/#/ Grace. My Grace. Yes. Yes. Love you. Need you. Please. /#/

He stood and walked them to the aisle. There he quickly stripped out of his duster and laid it on the carpet, then lowered Buffy down onto it.

“Hurry… need you, James.”

Buffy’s eyes were glazed as she watched her lover work at removing her boots. They made not a sound as they were dropped unceremoniously behind the man kneeling between her legs. Impatient, she started on her pants, frowning for a minute as she tried to work at opening the awkward material.

/*/ Scandalous. I’m wearing pants. /*/

Thoughts fell away as she felt cool fingers slip beneath pants and underwear.

“Lift up, my love.”

She did, and the garments were whisked down her legs leaving her bare from the waist down. A bout of shyness overcame her and she made to cover herself.

“No… don’t” Spike whispered. “You’re beautiful. Love you. Want to see you. All of you.”

Buffy nodded and started working at undoing her blouse.

“You too,” she told him, then blushed to the roots of her hair.

Spike smiled and nodded back. The red button-down was yanked down off his arms and tossed aside. He gripped the bottom edge of his black tee and ripped it over his head; it, too, was thrust aside impatiently.

Buffy sat up as Spike stood. She drew her coat off and set it behind her while Spike perched on an armrest and tore at the laces to his boots. They came off quickly enough, the carpet muffling the sound as they fell to the ground. With her eyes glued on the blond as he stripped out of his jeans, she shed her shirt and set it aside… her bra quickly following.

She blushed again at seeing him stand before her, his cock jutting proudly from a base of dark, wiry curls. Staring at it, and how it pulsed once, like it was its own separate entity, and it knew it was being admired.

/#/ Beautiful. /#/

They settled on the ground and Spike knelt between the Slayer’s legs, then stretched out on top of her. He purred and nuzzled her neck, smiling against her skin when she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer.

“Love you… James… can’t wait. Need…”

He rested on his elbows and looked down at the woman beneath him. All he could see was her. Dark hair, flawless complexion… a smile that could light up a room. And her love for him shining brightly in her eyes.

“Want to make this good for you…”

“Don’t… don’t care. I just need to feel you. Please, James. Love me.”

“I do. I do, Grace. I love you.” He leaned down and kissed her. His cock nudged her opening and he twisted his hips slightly.

/#/ So good... so good… Ah, love. Love you. /#/

“James…” A breathy sigh, then a slight hitch as he slid home. Filling her. Making her whole.

“Grace… Love you…”

He began to move, slow, deep thrusts that rocked her soul. Their words of love, of forgiveness, mingled with the increasing buzz from the swarm. Louder and louder still, until the wasps created a hole near the ceiling. Buffy and Spike began to glow with an incandescent light. Then it was lifting… up, up… towards the ceiling. Mingling together as James and Grace continued to touch on their way to the hereafter. Disappearing right along with the wasps.

Leaving behind the two blondes intimately entwined on the theater floor. Their bodies caught up in the dance begun by the two star-crossed lovers.

\\ Oh! Feels… \\ A grunt. \\ So good. More. Must… Spike. Please. Sire… \\

It was like he could hear her. His pace increased, he twisted his hips and hit that spot—

She growled. Loudly. Her legs tightened reflexively around his waist. Then he nudged the spot again. And again… and again still. Until she was pushing her hips up into his every thrust. Until her body seemed to splinter into a thousand pieces and she was calling his name, and even then she didn’t stop moving.

“Sire!” she screamed, thrusting her head back, instinctively exposing the pale column of her neck. Wanting him… no… needing him to bite her. To possess her. Make her his. “Please…”

He growled at her and Buffy felt it zing through every fiber of her being. The low rumble in his chest resonating deep within, soothing her even as it incited her. Dragging out her orgasm somehow. She didn’t know, didn’t care.

His fangs sliced into her neck a second later and Buffy thought she was going to die from the pleasure of it. It was like she could feel him, inside her… all around her. Like they were becoming one. One mind. One body.

The shivering began anew and seemed to go on as she felt him stiffen above her, come deep inside her. She wanted the moment to never end. Wished it could last forever. And then an hour after that. Buffy held him tight as he continued to suckle at her throat. Licking at the marks until they closed over, only to reopen them a second later and drink from her again, unwilling to deny himself the taste of her. As if he couldn’t get enough.

She smiled and murmured contentedly. Her fingers rifled through his hair, marveling at the silken strands. Loosening the stiff gel and making the tips stand on end.

\\ Bed head. Sexy. Mine. \\

Her body shuddered in response to the bolt of lust that hit her. Above her Spike moaned and thrust his hips, his lagging erection springing back to life as her inner walls clenched around his length.

\\ Oh… yeah… \\

“Sire…” she whispered. Happy. Content.

~*~*~*~*~

// Gorgeous. Hellcat. Mine. All mine. Slayer… //

Only, she wasn’t the Slayer any longer.

// Mine. My childe. //

He slammed into her. Harder. Faster. Giving her everything he had and thrilling when she took it all and begged for more. Begged so prettily, like the sweet childe she was.

// Why have I never entertained the thought of making one of my own? My own childe. //

Even now Spike could feel the Slayer – Buffy, his mind recalled having overheard it spoken. Like she was a part of him. Having devoted himself so completely to Drusilla, he never knew what he’d been missing. The special link one would experience only after siring a childe. His time with Dru was nothing compared to this.

It was… raw. Elemental. Stripped down to his basic demon form.

His fangs sliced into Buffy’s neck and he damn near passed out from the taste of her. Slayer. Childe. Beneath it all… mine. All mine.

// Forever. Bloody fuck yeah… //

He wasn’t going to let her go, now that he had her. Angelus was going to pitch a fit – a fleeting thought, just enough to tug a reluctant smile to his lips around the flesh in his mouth. Then the other two – Angelus and Drusilla – faded away.

And it was just him and Buffy. Their bodies moving now at a fevered pitch. Bare flesh slapping together, the sound echoing off the vacant walls. Grunts and growls. Whimpers for more. Always more.

// Never get enough… //

Replete, his body collapsed on top of hers, Spike continued to suckle at her neck, opening and closing the dual pinpricks, unable to resist tasting her. He could feel himself getting hard again. Feel her pussy stretch and squeeze him as he did so.

Then she whispered to him.

Sire.

Just that.

A single word that conveyed so much.

He made love to her slowly this time. His hands roamed over every square inch of her body, learning her, like he’d been unable to do when he’d been possessed. She writhed and arched into his touch beneath him. Begging him for faster. For more touching. Anything.

“Please, Sire.”

“Please what, luv?”

“I…”

Buffy tried to form a coherent thought, but Spike was making it rather difficult. Seeing him like this… feeling him like this, she was struck by his restraint. His mastery over the demon. Hers was clamoring for harder, more, now. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Yet, Spike’s pace never changed. In, out – nice and slow. Almost languid.

\\ Driving me out of my ever-loving mind. \\

Prodding didn’t work. Begging didn’t either. Finally, Buffy gave herself over to her sire. Trusting that he’d do right by her.

And he did.

They came together this time. Their orgasm washing over both long before either was ready for it. Soundless gasps as it hit, then nothing but the sound of flesh coming together until they were too sated to move and they lay there, Spike still buried deep inside the Slayer’s pussy. Moaning as she lapped his neck with her tongue.

“Drink me, Buffy… know your sire,” he murmured in her ear.

She did, and it was… perfect. The outside world fell away and it was just him and her; his conscious mind centered on the fangs in his neck, drawing his blood into her mouth, his ears ringing with the sound of her swallowing it down.

// Oh, pet. Yes… //

Damned if he wasn’t getting hard again. His lips ghosted over the marks he’d made. He felt her stiffen in preparation of his bite and he didn’t disappoint. A slight mewl against his neck and they were drinking each other, strengthening their connection.

\\ Sire. Sire. Sire. \\ 

// Mine. All mine… //

Their feeding eventually tapered off, and both were loathe to let go. So they lay there, their mouths latched onto the other’s neck. And slept.

~*~*~*~*~

It was only right that his childe, when he finally made one, should be a Slayer, he couldn’t help but think. After all, he’d made it his mission in unlife to go after them. Study them. Test his skills against them. Eventually kill them.

Feeling Buffy, nestled against his side, her fingers dancing across his chest, he knew he’d chosen well. That she would be his match in everything.

And he smiled. A true smile of finally having something that was all his. That would always be his.

The End  

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