Chapter Seven: Ties That Bind
“What do you mean, eternity?” Buffy asks me. As I open my mouth to answer, the chip fires in my head. Sparks flare and scorch within my brain. The agony overwhelms me. Suddenly I am elsewhere.
A familiar body lies in my embrace. I know the muscles under my hands, the dark hair brushing my cheek. His scent has been in my head for over a century. The taste of him fills my mouth. It is Angelus. Angel.
Pulling away from him, I look around. We are in bed, in my crypt. Fang marks in his neck are purple and vicious. Buffy is lying beside me, sleeping. Tara is on the floor, grasping for breath. A dark bruise is forming on the witch’s cheek. “Tara, what is going on?”
She looks dazed, her hand touching her cheek. “You hit me. I was trying to get you to let go of Angel. He had begun to struggle, and I thought you were hurting him.”
Guilt washes over me. “I’m so sorry, love. I didn’t know what I was doing. I wasn’t in my right mind.”
She sits on the edge of the bed, smiling at me. “I forgive you. At least you didn’t punch me in the nose this time.”
Between us, Angel stirs. He looks up at me, wincing with pain. “You always were a greedy little bloodsucker, William. You could have shown a little restraint.”
“Don’t see any reason to start changing now, mate,” I say.
He gives me a searching look. “I can think of a few.”
Tara puts her hand up. “Don’t start with all the male ego posturing now, guys. Buffy really wouldn’t like it.”
We all turn in unison to look at her. Buffy is deeply asleep. Dark circles under her eyes and the tense set of her jaw show the depth of her exhaustion.
“Buffy needs her rest. She’s been running herself ragged trying to heal you, Spike. Not to mention the spells that we did tonight and the work on the astral plain,” says Tara.
She stands, reaching out to Angel. “Speaking of which, we should be getting our rest too. Cordelia must be waiting up for you. You shouldn’t worry her.”
Angel rises to his feet. “I want to make sure that Buffy will be okay.”
“It’s my job to take care of her, not yours.” Bloody poof always does horn in where he’s not wanted.
He stares at me. “You’re right. I have responsibilities of my own now.”
Tara kisses my cheek. “I’m so very glad that you’re all right. As soon as you can, you have to see Dawn. She has been worried sick about you.” She climbs the steps to the upper level.
Angel turns to follows her. I call after him. “Angel. I’m- grateful. Sharing your blood. You doing that for me.”
He doesn’t turn back. “I didn’t do it do it for you.” I hear the door to the upper crypt slam shut as they depart. I get out of the bed, pulling back the covers. Taking off Buffy’s clothes, I tuck her in. Delighting in the sight of her in my bed, I play with her hair, stretching out tendrils all over the pillow. Her mouth opens, her tongue flickering over her lips. I bend down and kiss her.
God, I want her. I want to lick every inch of her. I want to fuck her until she screams. Sighing, I climb back underneath the sheets. Turning out the light, I roll away from her so that we do not touch. Slayer needs her rest.
I wake up to the sound of screaming. “Dru, love. It’s alright,” I say groggily. Reaching out my arm, I touch warm flesh. I remember, and fully awaken. Snapping on the light, I embrace Buffy. She is still screaming.
I shake her gently. Her eyes pop open, wide and searching. Seeing me there, she falls forward, wrapping herself around me. “You were gone. You were dead,” she says, holding me tightly.
“I’m right here, love,” I say, “I’ve got you.”
Her mouth covers mine. Her hard nipples brush against my chest. I run my hands through her hair, cupping the back of her head. Her nails scrape down my back, stinging trails rising in their wake.
My hands trail down her back to her ass. I grab her roughly, lifting her. She sinks down on top of me, throwing back her head. We move together, falling into a trance of shared sensation.
“You’re mine,” she says, and I know she is about to come for me. I increase the pace, burning with need for her. She begins to chant, “You’re mine, I need you, you’re mine,” as she moves around me. I work within in her, pounding at her with all the passion I feel for her.
Suddenly, she stops, looking deeply in my eyes. “I love you.” We stare at each other, not moving. “I am in love with you.” Still joined together, she rolls on her back, pulling me on top of her. She unwraps her arms from mine, grabs both my hands, twining my fingers with hers.
I brace myself on my elbows as she stares up at me, holding my hands. “I love you,” she says again, “and I never want to lose you again.”
“Never happen,” I tell her.
“Swear it,” she whispers, her eyes filled with need.
“I will never leave you, Buffy, I will be with you until the very end.” I kiss her, and we both feel the truth in it.
I move within her. Slowly, gently, we make love. I close my eyes and see fleeting visions that I can’t grasp onto and don’t understand. As we move, I hear her whisper in my ear, words of love repeated over and over. Words of devotion, of secrets revealed, of paradise gained.
I hear her scream and I scream along with her. The pleasure that I find with her scalds me, burns me through and through. I feel the sun, the bright rays burning down on me. Warm, glowing, I rest upon her chest.
We must have fallen asleep, because when I awaken, the room is black, the only illumination the small pool of light from the lamp. Buffy sits in my chair, chatting quietly on her phone. I sit up, and she turns to me.
She covers the phone with her hand. “Are you up for going home and having pizza with Dawn?”
“Sure, sounds good.” “We’ll be there in half an hour, Dawnie. Be sure to find out what Cordy likes on her pizza. Can I pick up what? Sure, I can do that.” Hanging up, she jumps on my bed. “Up, up, lazybones. Get up, up, up.” I grab her leg, knocking her down. She kisses me, then slaps my ass. “Get a move on. We’ve got company waiting.”
I get up, pulling on my clothes. “Just the great bleeding poof and his prissy little sidekick. No great shakes there.” Buffy shakes her head. “There’s someone there you’re definitely going to want to meet.”
We walk together, hand in hand, through the cemetery. “We have to come back later and patrol,” says Buffy. “I’ve been pretty slack lately.” “I’m up for kicking some ass,” I say. She laughs. “Yeah, you always are.”
Walking through Sunnydale, Buffy stops off at a convenience store. She goes in, while I take the opportunity to grab a smoke. Leaning against the wall outside, blowing smoke in the air, I look up at the stars. I can’t remember ever feeling so good, so content.
Buffy comes out, handing me a paper sack holding bottles of soda. She carries a plastic bag of diapers. “Why are you buying nappies?” I ask her, grinning. “Something biologically impossible that you’re trying to tell me?”
“They’re for Connor,” she replies. “Angel’s son. The biologically impossible baby.”
I stop, staring at her. “What in the bloody hell do you mean?” She turns, looking at me. “Darla and Angel had a son. His name is Connor.” My mind reels. “But that’s-“
“Not possible,” she says, “I know that, you know that. But he’s here.”
“Darla too?” Is still can’t believe it.
She shakes her head. “Darla’s dead.”
“How?” Darla …dead?
“I don’t know, I just know she’s gone,” she tells me. “Angel’s not really into chatting about the whole situation.”
We continue on, carrying our bags. “This should be one hell of an interesting evening.”
Walking into the house on Revello Drive, we are hit with a cacophony of noise. A crying baby and a screaming match are right in front of us. Cordelia is patting the back of a sobbing baby, glaring at Willow, who is screaming at a crying Tara and a stony faced Angel.
“How could you be so stupid?” yells Willow. “I didn’t bring her back from the dead so that she could-“
Turning to look at us as we enter, Willow falls silent. Cordelia turns, stalking into the living room. I turn to look at Buffy. Her face is hard, her eyes cold as they bore into Willow. ”Please do finish that sentence, Will. I’m sure you weren’t going to say anything you wouldn’t tell me to my face.”
Willow lifts her chin, meeting Buffy’s eyes. “I didn’t bring you back from the dead so that you could spend all your time screwing yet another vampire.”
Stalking over to Willow, Buffy raises her arm to strike her. Angel grabs her arm, holding it still. “Don’t do this, Buffy. Don’t do something you’ll regret.”
“Get your goddamn hand off my woman, Angelus.” My woman now, not his.
Angel smirks at me, not moving his hand. “Your woman? Don’t you mean to say your wife?”Buffy spins and stares at me, eyes open wide.
The jig is up.
Continued in Chapter Eight: Revelations