Caught Between Two Lovers
Pattyanne 's Fic
Kings of Mercia
LoobyLoos' Fic
Jen's Fic

Part Twenty-one.....



"She may be the face I can't forget

The trace of pleasure or regret

May be my treasure or the price I have to pay


The launch cruised up to the dock, and Spike tossed the rope out to Luke, waiting until the craft was secured at it's mooring.

Once it was firmly tied, Luke hopped off the small boat, a big smile plastered all over his face. "We got him, Boss."

"Good," Spike replied. "Is he conscious?"

"Umm...well, no. He sort of...didn't want to come with us. We tried to reason with him, Boss, but he just told us to fuck off. Said he didn't even remember your lady and wouldn't give a shit about her if he did."

Spike allowed a small smile to touch his lips. "Well, I'll just have to remind him then." He tossed the keys to Lysander's town car in his minion's direction. "Let's take him up." As he walked back towards the car, another thought occurred to him, and he turned back to Luke again. "Throw him in the trunk."

As the car traveled the four miles from the dock to the estate, one thought kept playing over and over in his mind.

<Soon, angelface. I'll be there as soon as I can. Please don't forget about me...>


"She may be the song that summer sings

May be the chill the autumn brings

May be a hundred different things

Within the measure of a day..."


Spike sat in a chair on the opposite side of the large bed that his prisoner was bound to, waiting

for him to regain consciousness.

As he waited, he studied the other vampire.

The man was around six feet tall, and bulky. He had the kind of body that could never be described as graceful, no matter what he was doing.

His face had an almost neanderthalish look to it, with blunt features. It had probably been a bit leaner in his youth, but was now running to seed, and looked a little doughy. He had dark brown, badly cut hair, and a pathetic attempt at a mustache drooped down from his upper lip.

Still, his appearance didn't matter in the slightest. All Spike needed was his blood. A goodly amount of it.

He stared at the vampire, silently willing him to open his eyes.

Spike didn't plan on giving him much longer. He would prefer to do what had to be done with a little cooperation, but that scenario wasn't set in stone.

Frankly, he didn't much care one way or the other. All he wanted was to be able to leave this island with a clear conscience, knowing that he had fulfilled his obligation to Drusilla.

All he wanted was Buffy.


"She may be the beauty or the beast

May be the famine or the feast

May turn each day into a heaven or a hell

She may be the mirror of my dreams

The smile reflected in a stream

She may not be what she may seem

Inside her shell..."


Being so far away from her was almost physically painful. He hadn't realized how horrible it would be until he'd had to leave her.

But, even knowing that in the long run she was probably better off without him, wasn't enough to hold him here much longer.

His "noble gesture" of leaving her behind to try and allow her to lead as normal a life as a slayer could, now seemed stupid, a waste of time and effort. When the facts were boiled down to their barest essence, what he had actually done had been to desert her, good intentions not withstanding.

He should have known he'd never be able to stay away from her. She owned his heart completely, far more than Drusilla ever had.

His beautiful, bright eyed little slayer, her childlike giggles juxtaposed with her womanly charms, was all he wanted in the world. He would do whatever it took to get back to her.


"She, who always seems so happy in a crowd

Whose eyes can be so private and so proud

No one's allowed to see them when they cry..."


But the longer it took, the more his anxiety over her rose. He'd been gone so long. What if she'd gotten tired of waiting? She was young and beautiful, with a passionate nature that she'd only begun to explore. Men would sense that in her, would be drawn to her by it, as he had been himself.

Just the thought of her giving herself to some other man brought all his rage screaming to the surface.

What would he do if he returned, only to find that his bride had given up on him? It was no more than he deserved for leaving the way he had.

And if he found her in another man's arms...God, what would it drive him to? Murder, he had no doubt.

"Away to heaven. Respective lenity," he quoted softly. "Fire-eyed fury be my conduct now."

Yes, that pretty much summed it up.


"She may be the love that cannot hope to last

May come to me from shadows of the past

That I'll remember till the day I die..."


He couldn't let that happen, couldn't let her slip through his fingers so easily.

Sitting and waiting for Dru's sire to wake up, he decided that he would write to his bride that very night. He had to tell her to wait for him, that he was coming back to her; and that there was no power on earth that would keep him from it.

He would make it all up to her somehow, would do anything he had to do to make her forgive him. Because, he had to. Without her...he had nothing.


"She may be the reason I survive

The why and wherefore I'm alive

The one I'll care for through the rough and ready years


Shaking his head, he pushed the unpalatable thought away. She WOULD be there, and she

WOULD be waiting.

They'd be together again, and he would cherish her and live for her; he would marry her properly, and make love to her every day for the rest of her life.

The future stretched out in front of him with a new purpose; making Buffy happy.

He'd do all he could to make sure that she lived a long and happy life, and, when she inevitably, left him...he wouldn't be staying behind.

This was to be the final chapter of his long and tumultuous existence.


"Me, I'll take her laughter and her tears

And make them all my souvenirs

For where she goes I've got to be

The meaning of my life is...she."






Part Twenty-two.....

The Long and Winding Road


"The long and winding road

That leads to your door

Will never disappear

I've seen that road before.."


The vampire didn't wake slowly, but with a shout and an upward lunge. It took him a moment to realize that he was in restraints, but when he managed to clear his head, he reacted predictably.

Spike sat in the chair, silently waiting for the tantrum to be over. With his ankle crossed over his knee, and his elbows balanced on the chair arms, he steepled his fingers together and smiled.

The vampire finally noticed that he wasn't alone. "You think this is funny?"

Spike shrugged. "I think it's hysterical. In another moment, I'll be rolling on the floor, unable to contain my laughter."

The vampire looked around the room, his eyes wild with fury. "Where the fuck am I....and who the fuck are you?"

Spike shook his head. "First things first," he said. "Do you have a name?"

"Fuck you!"

"Tsk, tsk," Spike sighed. "Uncooperative even in the midst of your....current predicament." Leisurely rising to his feet, he crossed the room and opened a drawer in a large oak bureau.

"What are you doing?" the vampire asked warily.

Spike didn't answer. He merely removed a small glass bottle from the drawer, then closed it up again.

Turning to face the bed, he held the bottle up so that the vampire could see it. "Don't make me open this," he warned the vamp, his tone deadly serious. "I'll only warn you once."

The vampire eyed the container of holy water, then strained at the chains binding him.

Spike uncapped the bottle and held it out over the vamps face.

His captive tried to duck away, but one small drop of the deadly water hit his face, right at the hairline. It sizzled and the vampire muttered a muffled word.

"Pardon?" Spike asked, tilting the bottle again.

"ANGELUS!" the vampire shouted. "My fucking name is Angelus!"

Spike was honestly surprised. "You must be kidding," he said. "What in the world is angelic about you?"

Even in his obvious distress, the vampire looked insulted. "The face, you idiot! What..are you blind?"

"Unfortunately, no," Spike sighed. "Fine...Angelus. I'm going to tell you why you're here, and what you have to do if you want to leave in one piece."

Finally surmising that he wasn't going to be released just yet, Angelus settled down.

"One hundred and thirty six years ago," Spike began, "you played a little game with the Carmelite Sisters of the Sacred Heart of Jesus."

"The who of what?" Angelus asked sarcastically.

Spike was getting tired of the bullshit. He leaned closer and spoke again in his deepest voice. "Don't fuck around with me, Angelus. You have no idea how close I am to losing control. I need something from you, so that I can get off this son-of-a-bitching island and back to my bride. Now, you can give me what I want willingly, and leave in relatively good health, or...unwillingly, and not leave at all. Choose which you prefer, but believe me when I say...I WILL have what I want from you, one way or the other."

Angelus scooted up as far as his chains would allow. "Get back to your bride? She's not here?"

"No. She's not here."


"It always lead me here

Leads me to your door.."


"Some vampire YOU are," Angelus sneered. "Can't even keep your mate with you."

With a huge effort of self control, Spike continued. "Do I need to refresh your memory again?" he asked, holding up the bottle. "Get back on topic."

"Look," Angelus replied. "I played a lot of games at a lot of different places. I've been around for over two hundred years. You can't expect me to remember all of them."

"I'm not asking you to remember all of them. But, one hundred and thirty six years had a grand old time with the novices at Sacred Heart. You made a habit of grabbing them out of the confessionals when they thought they were speaking with a priest." Spike paused. "Ringing any bells for you?"

Angelus produced the look of a man looking back on very sweet memories. "I remember that. I was good at it. For about three years, I hit just about every convent in England and Ireland." He looked at Spike. "So, what's it to you?"

"It's nothing to me," Spike said. "Ancient history...except for one thing."

"And that would be what, laddie?"

"One of the novices that you sired, sired me a year later."

Angelus grinned. "Gave you a good siring, did she? Well, you don't have to thank me. Happy to be of assistance."

Spike glared at him. "Does it look as though I've brought you here to thank you, you stupid git?"

It was taking every bit of control he had not to break off one of the bedposts and smash it through the other vamp's heart.

"Well, then what the fuck do you want with me?" Angelus narrowed his eyes. "And how did you get me here?"

The question made Spike smile a little. "That's an interesting story. When I located you, I sent two of my minions to go after you and bring you here."

The vampire finally began to make the right connections. "Is this...oh, fuck. This is about that girl...the one that's dying. Isn't it?"

"Her name is Drusilla, and you are her sire," Spike said. "And yes, she's dying. I brought her here because there's a warlock here who can cure her. He has everything he needs...except for

the blood of her sire. Now, THAT'S where you come in."

Angelus shook his head. "That's where I go out," he countered. "I already told your boys. You're not getting shit from me."

"I don't need shit," Spike said. "I need blood. Your blood. A lot of it."

"Not a chance, boyo." Angelus jerked at his chains. "Not a fucking chance!"

There was a pause, then Spike said, "I'll give you a few minutes to think about that answer."

He turned on his heel and walked out of the bed chamber, leaving Angelus to rage alone.

Closing the door behind him, he leaned back against it. "Soon, baby," he murmured. "Soon."


"The wild and windy night

That the rain washed away

Has left a pool of tears

Crying for the day

Why leave me standing here

Let me know the way.."


"Is he awake?" Lysander asked, without looking up from his book."

Spike nodded, falling into the opposing armchair, and covering his face with his hands. "He's awake...and he's a huge pain in the ass."

The warlock chuckled. "Uncooperative, I take it?"

"That's putting it politely." Straightening up, he dropped his hands and looked over at his only hope. "Is everything ready?"

Lysander nodded. "Yes...except for Drusilla. It's time you told her everything." He looked at Spike over the rim of his spectacles.

Spike knew it, and he wasn't looking forward to the confrontation. Even as sick as she was, Drusilla didn't like sharing her toys.

But the sooner he got it over with, the sooner he'd be away from this island prison, and the sooner he could go home to Buffy.

He needed her so badly. Needed to feel her arms around him, her warm, young body pressed tightly against his as she whispered her shy endearments in his ear.

Leaning back against the headrest, he turned to see Lysander studying him rather intently. "Tell me this is going to work," he pleaded.

Instead of answering the question, Lysander closed his book. "And what will you do if it doesn't? Put her out of her misery with a nice, sharp piece of wood?"

Spike looked away. He couldn't say that he'd never think of doing such a thing. Desperation, when it went on long enough, could make anyone do the 'unthinkable' , and his desperation to return to Buffy could easily force his hand.

" doesn't work," he asked haltingly, "how long would it be until she..."


Spike nodded.

"Who knows? Maybe weeks...maybe days...maybe only hours or minutes," Lysander said with a shrug. "I've tried the augurs, tried to see her destiny...but it was useless. Her mental processes wouldn't allow it. You see," he leaned forward in his chair, "she's unstable, so her destiny changes from moment to moment."

"But that's not my fault!" Spike said defensively. "I didn't make her the way she is. I've tried to help her. I took care of her for more than a hundred years." He lowered his voice. "I don't know how much longer I can do it. I...I need to go to..."

"I know where you need to go," Lysander said calmly. "To the one you left behind. Without her, you feel...incomplete."

"No." Spike shook his head. "Without her...I AM incomplete."


"Many times I've been alone

And many times I've cried

Anyway, you'll never know

The many ways I've tried

And still they lead me back

To the long, winding road.."


"I see. Well, tell me this; does Drusilla know that this girl, this...other the Slayer?"

Spike didn't bother asking how the warlock knew that Buffy was the Slayer. "I don't know," he replied honestly. "If she does, she hasn't mentioned it."

"Hmm." Lysander mused. "A vampire in love with a slayer. THAT'S one for the record books."

"I suppose."

"Well," the warlock said, rising to his feet. "I'll be below. You let me know when she's prepared."

Spike watched Lysander leave the room, heading for the stairs that would take him down to his laboratory.

A few moments later, he rose and headed for the main staircase.

Freedom was so close he could taste it.


"You left me standing here

A long, long time ago

Don't leave me waiting here

Lead me to your door..."





Part Twenty-three....

Somebody's Eyes


"Careful what you do

Someone's on to you

Careful what you do"


"Dru...honey?" Spike leaned over and gave her a gentle shake. "Wake up now, luv. I have a surprise for you."

Drusilla rolled over in bed and opened her eyes, staring at him. "A pretty surprise? Or a nasty one?"

He smiled at her, tenderly. "A pretty one," he assured her.

With some effort, Drusilla pulled herself up into a sitting position, then leaned back into the pillows. Regarding him steadily for a moment, she shook her head. "I think it's both. Like a picnic when it rains. Or a trip to the seashore where the stinging jellyfish wait by the BITE!"

She punctuated her last word with a loud clap of her hands in Spike's face, then giggled.

He moved back a little and took her hands in his. "No, darling. Nothing will sting you," he said softly. He raised one hand and brushed her hair back from her gaunt face.

As he looked into her eyes, he wondered where the passion he'd once felt had disappeared to. There had been a time when this black haired princess had been all he'd wanted in the world.

He'd loved her and hated her, lusted for her and killed with her, truly believing that they would be together for eternity.

Now, the thought of that left him cold.

He still cared...he would ALWAYS care. But his heart was no longer bound to her, and after what he had known with Buffy, he was beginning to think that it never really had been, that he'd just been marking time, waiting for Buffy to be born, and to grow up?

"Dru...listen to me now," he said, looking directly into her eyes. "Tonight, we're going to do something that will make you well again."


"Careful what you say

Because you're on display

Every night and every day"


Drusilla smiled, delightedly. "Are we going to play a game?" she asked.

Spike nodded. "In a way. But when the game is over, you'll be all better."

"That's good," she sighed. "I'm always so tired, Spike. I don't understand why."

"You've been sick, luv," he explained. "Don't you remember what happened in Prague?"

"Prague?" she echoed vaguely. "I don't like it there. I like Paris. Can we go to Paris, my Spike?"

Spike swallowed hard. He couldn't lie to her. She always knew when he was lying. "Course you can," he said, hoping she wouldn't notice the singular word in his answer. "Paris is just waiting there for you, darling," he added quickly.

Dru laughed. "Miss Edith will be so pleased. She was born there, you know."

"Yes, I know," Spike nodded. "But before Paris, we have to make you strong again."

She lifted one hand and traced his features with her fingertip. "Pretty vampire," she murmured. "My little Spike."

He watched her hand slide down his arm, feeling it's coldness, disliking her touch. Dru's hands were alien to him now. Like spiders crawling on him, he wanted to brush them away.

Buffy's hands were warm and soft. When she was at peace, they lingered on him gently, rubbing his shoulders and stroking his hair. He would make love to her tenderly, feeling her little fingers move up and down his spine, playing across his face and lips.

But, when she was passionate, her hands moved over him quickly, trying to touch him everywhere at once. Her fingers would demand entrance into his mouth, and he would swirl his tongue around them and pretend to bite.

She would grip handfuls of his hair when he went down on her, holding him in place while his tongue probed her deepest recess. The cries that came from her throat drove him mad with lust, inspiring him to make it even better for her.

Then, at the moment when their bodies were joined and her passion reached it's zenith, her nails would dig into his shoulders and back. She was unaware at the time of how hard she would cling to him, hard enough to mark his skin for hours.

But that was all right too, because she would make such a fuss over each small wound, kissing them sweetly, sometimes starting things up all over again.

God, how he loved the touch of her hands. He would eat dirt, if she fed it to him with her little fingers.


"Somebody's hiding in the great unknown

And every time you think you're alone

Somebody's eyes are watching"


"Do you remember your sire, Dru?"

She looked confused for a moment. "Daddy...he was mean. Very naughty." Her eyes narrowed and she suddenly smiled. "He liked the nasty, dirty girls...but I was clean. Untouched."

"That's right," Spike nodded. "You were going to be a nun, remember?"

Dru closed her eyes, clasping her hands in front of her face. "Now I lay me down to sleep," she

sing-songed. "Pray the lord my soul to keep."

Her eyes opened again, and she snapped her teeth.

"Daddy took it away. He was ugly, stinking of filthy love. So, he took it. It flew off, like a white dove. I saw it go."

Spike took a tighter rein on his patience. He wanted her to listen to him, not wander off on irrelevant tangents. The sooner this was done, the better.

"Dru," he said seriously. "Your sire is here. We need him for the...the game."

She looked at him, her brow furrowed. "Daddy's here? Will he hurt me?"

"Honey, no," he said, shaking his head. "You know I won't let anyone hurt you."

Drusilla tilted her head to one side. "Will YOU hurt me?" she asked.


"Somebody's eyes see you come and go

Somebody's out there, waiting for the show

You've got no disguise from somebody's eyes"


Spike considered his answer carefully. "Dru...I'd never want to hurt you."

She smiled sweetly. "Because you love me," she said.

"Yes." He returned her smile. "Because..I love you."

Suddenly sitting up, Dru leaned forward and brushed her lips against his cheek.

Spike forced himself not to pull away from her.

Nuzzling him, Dru whispered softly. "Take"

Oh, no. God, no. This couldn't be happening. Not now. After months of lacking interest in any physical contact, she was going to start up NOW?

He couldn't do it. There was no possible way he could give her what she wanted. She held no attraction for him that way, not anymore.

Even with the long period of abstinence he'd been dealing with since he'd left Buffy, he knew damn well he wouldn't be able to get it up for Drusilla. Not only because he didn't want her, but because he would be betraying his bride.

He couldn't just close his eyes and pretend that he was making love to Buffy. Even if he could convince his mind of it, his body would sense that it wasn't joined with the woman he loved, and it would not cooperate. He felt certain of it.


"Careful how you speak

Turn the other cheek

Be careful how you speak"


Spike chose his words with care. "Not now, luv. When you're better." He smiled at her. "It's been so long. I want you to be in top form, with all your strength."

Drusilla settled back into the pillows, obviously trying to probe around in his mind. "She's all over you."

He tensed up. "Who is, luv?"

She lunged forward suddenly. "I can smell her on your skin," she hissed. "You're all covered with her. That silly little girl you found."


"I see her, you know. The music plays for her...and she dances on the very edge."

Spike was tired of the cryptic. "What do you mean?" he asked, dropping all pretense. "What is she doing?"

Dru laughed. "She waits."

"Is she all right?" He leaned in closer. "Don't close your eyes, Drusilla," he said firmly. "Look at she all right?"

"She waits by the window, brushing her hair," Dru whispered. "And at night, she dances with the devil. How they all want her pretty, soft skin, and golden curls. Pouting lips and eyes of green glass. But she says, no, no, and no again."

Spike sat back, trying to decipher the meaning of Dru's words. Dancing on the edge and dancing with the devil was a reference to Buffy's slaying, and to the risks she had been taking.

But the other part was harder to decode. Who was it that wanted Buffy's skin and hair, her eyes and her lips? Demons that wanted to put an end to her...or men that simply wanted her?

"She'll be dancing when you find her," Dru said. "Then, you'll have your answer."

At that precise moment, he could have quite cheerfully wrenched Drusilla's head from her shoulders. If it wasn't for her, he would be with Buffy now. Not sitting here on this island, helpless to protect her.


"Think a naughty thought

And if you get caught

Boy, you've got a lot of trouble"


Drusilla laughed again, bringing his attention back to her. "Poor William," she said in mock sympathy. "Too far away to hear her cry. A little, lost lamb...and you, a naughty wolf to make her think you care."

Spike's eyes met hers, then darted away, shielding his emotions. "Let it go, Dru," he said. "You should rest for tonight."

She looked at him, speculatively. "And what shall my darling boy do while I rest?" she asked. "Make busy little plans? Arrangements?"

He started to stand up, but she grabbed him with surprising swiftness and strength. "You think I don't know," she said, her hand clutching his shirt sleeve. "Not all of it, anyway."

"Stop it, Dru," he replied, shaking her off. "Lie down and rest."

"Bide your time, Spike," she continued, as though he hadn't spoken. "Keep yourself for her, if you will. The game is just beginning."


"Somebody's eyes never sleep

Somebody's after the secrets you keep

Who's got alibis from somebody's eyes?"


Drusilla finally released him, reclining back on the bed. She turned her back on him and pulled Miss Edith into her arms, humming a nameless tune into the doll's porcelain ear.

Spike left the room, closing the door behind him.

He stood for a moment, collecting his thoughts, then went in search of Lysander. It was time to get this thing done.

Tired of waiting...tired of living on this island...tired of keeping secrets...and tired to death of Drusilla and her scatterbrained thought processes. Spike was all that and more besides.


"If you've anything to hide

Think twice before you step outside"


Before going in search of the warlock, Spike stopped in his own room. He pulled a long box out from under the bed and opened it.

The cherry wood stock of the dart gun gleamed in the mellow lamp light as he loaded it with a heavy dose of Pentobarbital. He was taking no chance that Angelus might not cooperate.


"Somebody's eyes are following every move"


Quietly opening the door, he raised the dart gun and cradled it against his shoulder.

"What the..." Angelus saw him and he began to struggle against his bonds. "Don't do that! HEY!


"Sorry," Spike murmured, then fired the dart. Less than a minute later, Angelus was unconscious.


"Somebody's waiting to show they don't approve."




Part Twenty-four (Meanwhile, back in Sunnydale)

Love With All The Trimmings


"My dearest love, who existed in a dream

Till this evening when a wave came and

Swept me out to sea.."


Buffy turned over in bed, restlessly kicking the covers off. The day had been unseasonably warm, and the room still felt hot and sticky.

Her nightgown clung to her sweaty body, making her skin itch. She'd tried to cool herself down with a tepid bath, but the effects had been temporary and now she was a cranky, icky mess.

She realized that the heat was only part of the problem. Unfortunately, it was the only part she

could do anything about.

The part of her that wasn't baking in the heat, was simmering in a stew of unfulfilled need.

Up until the day she had received William's second letter, she had refused to allow herself to think about certain things. She'd had to, or she'd have gone quietly mad trying to quell the fires that he'd stirred up in her.

But now, knowing that he was coming back to her, she didn't bother even trying to hold them off.

They were sneaky, hitting her entirely by surprise, usually when she was unprepared for them.

Yesterday, they had attacked her in school. She'd been in P.E., in the middle of the football field, running relay races.

Waiting for her turn, she had seen out of the corner of her eye, a kid from the track team doing laps. He been similar to William in both height and weight, and he wore his blond hair short.

She had stood and stared at the boy, completely lost in her fevered imagination. Her gym teacher had called for her to run, then called again a little louder.

But, her trance hadn't been broken until Miss Cameron had walked right up and blown her whistle in Buffy's face. Startled, she had almost lost her contact with the ground, and her ears had still been ringing an hour later.

For the entire remainder of the school day, he'd seemed to be everywhere she'd turned. In the cafeteria eating lunch, sitting with his friends outside on the grass, coming out of the men's room by her locker, and boarding the school bus after the dismissal bell.

Buffy had walked around all that long, seemingly endless day, feeling an empty ache in her crotch. An ache she couldn't soothe by rubbing herself against the inseam of her jeans.

There was only one person who could relieve that violent yearning, and he was still nowhere to be found.


"None of the loves you have known

Could prepare you for the love raging

Everywhere in me.."


It had been bad enough losing him, but she'd also lost the release valve for her sexual tension, and the pleasure he had taught her to feel.

She was definitely going to get even with him for that...if he would just show his face sometime

before she was too old to appreciate it.

Plucking her damp, cotton gown away from her clammy skin, she sat up in bed and fixed the

problem entirely by whipping it off and throwing it across the room.

She grabbed the corner of the bed sheet and blotted the sweat that seemed to be pooling

everywhere on her body.

After she wiped the backs of her knees dry, she began to work on the thin skin of her inner thighs.

Then, much to her own amazement, her fingers let go of the sheet and crept up and up, finally

stopping when she touched the place that only one other person besides her had touched.

Closing her eyes, and with her lips slightly parted, she slid her fingers up and down the cleft of her sex, trying to imitate the skillful moves William had performed on her.

She had none of his finesse, but her eagerness seemed to be making up for it.

Buffy stroked and fondled herself, embarrassed beyond belief at what she was doing, but doing

it anyway.

Moving her fingers faster, she rubbed herself to a near frenzy, then timidly allowed one digit to slip inside her just the tiniest bit.

And, if she concentrated, she could imagine that he had come into her room. Kneeling on her bed, he crawled up her body on his hands and knees. His mouth captured her's beneath it, and he began giving her the often mentioned "long, slow, deep, soft wet kisses that last three days."


"For all the arms that have covered you

The hands that have touched you

And the lips you have lingered on before

Added together, would be less than an olive

In the banquet of love I have in store."


"Why...why aren't you here?" she almost sobbed. "I need you...I need you."

"I know, angelface. I need you, too," he answered, softly nuzzling her throat. "I'll be with you soon, I promise. But...until then..."

"Until then....what?" she asked, gasping at the sensation of his mouth on her moist skin.

"Touch yourself," he whispered in her ear. "And think of me."


"Love seasoned to entice

Love with all the trimmings, filled with spice

Love flavored to your whim

Served piping hot, with all the trimmings"


"That's," she swallowed hard. "That's kind of hard to do."

He chuckled, tickling her skin. "No, it's not. Just imagine that it's my hand between your legs...all right?"

Buffy nodded and took a shot at it. "You's really not the same."

"Slide your finger up to the top. Now, just rub yourself there gently," he said, stroking her hair. "You'll find the..."

"Oh! I think I found it," she squeaked.

"Good girl," he murmured approvingly. "Rub a little harder, now."

Buffy nodded and followed his instructions. Raising her free hand, she wiggled her fingers. "Um...what should I...?"

"Put it anywhere you like, sweetheart."

She thought it over for a moment, then shyly placed it on the tender skin below her breasts.

"Oh, now," he scolded. "That's not where you really want it?"

Buffy was having a hard time concentrating. "No...not exactly," she said, licking her lips.

William sighed. "Sweetheart...only you would be shy in your own fantasy."

"Oh...I'm not blushing, am I?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Maybe a little." Taking her arms in his hands, he lifted her slightly. "I know what you want," he said into her ear, biting down gently on the lobe, teasing the small gold hoop that adorned it.

"See...if I were lying beneath you," he went on, doing just that, adjusting her until she was stretched out full length on top of him, staring at the ceiling. "I'd have one hand down here." He slipped his fingers between her thighs, spreading the wetness liberally over her skin. "And the other" His free hand cupped and molded her breast, squeezing it and tugging gently on the nipple, making it firm and erect.

"Ohh.." she moaned. This was so much better. He always knew just what she wanted...even before she did.


"For, I'll decode every breath and every sigh

Till your every lover's wish is fulfilled

Before it's made.."


"Can you feel my fingers inside you?" he asked, moving them a little faster.

Buffy nodded. "Yeah. Uh-huh."

He waited a moment, then smiled against the soft flesh of her throat. "And, does it feel good?"

"Oh," she added quickly. "Yes. It's's been so long." She lifted one hand and caressed his cheek. "And I miss you so much."

"I know," he said softly. "I miss you, too. I love you, sweetheart...and I'll be home soon."

"Promise?" she panted, lifting her hips to meet the thrust of his fingers.

"Promise," he nodded. "Shall I go deeper?"

"Okay." She tilted her head back when she felt him slide his wet fingers further into her slick passage. "Oh, God....William..."

"Yes, baby?" He tightened his other hand around her breast, fondling her roughly. "Tell me."

"I wish....I wish you were inside me....properly," she moaned, clamping down on his teasing fingers.

"Soon, baby," he said, nipping at her neck. "Soon, I'll have everything inside you." He sped up the pace of his invasive touch. "You wait for me," he demanded. "Don't let anyone else touch you. You're mine."


"Toss in some jealousy and doubt

Should it be required

Not rest till there's nothing more desired"


"I am," she sobbed on a ragged breath. "I'm yours...always...I love you....I love you...."

"I love you, too." His tongue licked the sweat off her skin. "Only you, love. Only my beautiful baby. Never leave your side again...I swear."

She was quickly approaching the point of no return. Her fingers moved around the back of his neck and gripped him, hard. "I'm...I'm your wife," she whimpered. "Me...not her."

"You," he agreed, mouthing her vulnerable skin. "You're my mate. I'm coming you."

Releasing the hold he had on her breast, he sent his other hand down between her thighs, cupping her sex tightly and squeezing as his fingers plunged her into an intense orgasm.


"Thus, loving as I do

Never, never will you ever

Be untrue

Having love with all the trimmings

Waiting home...for you"


Buffy's eyes opened wide as the waves of pleasure began to recede. Slowly, she pulled her hands out of her crotch, wiping them on the sheet beside her.

She almost leapt right through the ceiling when her mother's concerned voice came from the other side of her door.

"Buffy!" (knock-knock) "Are you okay, honey?"

"Um...yeah. I'm fine, Mom," she answered, yanking the top sheet up under her neck. "How are you?"

Her mother was silent for a moment. "I'M fine," she finally said. "You're the one yelling in the middle of the night."

"I...I was yelling?" Horrified, she wondered if she dared asked precisely WHAT she'd been yelling. "I guess I was having a dream?" she ventured.

The doorknob turned and her mom peeked in. "Are you asking me or telling me?"

Buffy considered her options. "Telling you," she said firmly. "It was a dream. Really."

Joyce shook her head. "It must have been a pretty intense one."

"Uh, yeah," Buffy nodded. "You could put it that way...I guess."

"'re all right?"

"Yeah. Goodnight." Smiling, Buffy gave her mom a little wave."

"Goodnight, honey."

When the door was closed, she dove out of bed and reclaimed her nightgown.

But before she tried to go to sleep, she went into the bathroom and washed her hands.


"Thus, loving as I do

Never, never will you ever

Be untrue

Having love with all the trimmings

Waiting home for you.."




Part twenty-five...



"It's been a long time

Now I'm coming back home

I've been away now

Oh, how, I've been alone"


"It's almost midnight. Let's begin."

Lysander picked up the incense holder and lit it. A spicy fragrance drifted through the small chapel.

Spike carried Drusilla up the center aisle, where Angelus was hanging from a chain in the ceiling. The chain was pulled taut, keeping the unconscious vampire on his feet.

He fastened Dru's wrist in the other manacle, arranging their hands so that their palms were pressed together. She laced her fingers with her sire's, holding as tightly as she could in her weakened state.

When the incense was properly spread, Lysander put the holder down and took his place in front of the two bound vampires.

"Eligor, I name thee. Bringer of war. Poisoners. Pariahs. Grand obscenity," he intoned.


"Wait..till I come back to your side

We'll forget the tears we cried."


He picked up an ornate cross off the altar, holding it upside down.

"Eligor, wretched master of decay. Bring your black medicine."

Releasing a catch, he drew a dagger from the hollow shaft of the cross.

"Come. Restore your most impious, murderous child."

Lysander placed the tip of the dagger's blade against the back of Drusilla's hand. Gripping it firmly, he pierced her flesh with it, stabbing it clear through her hand and into Angelus'. She whimpered in pain.

"From the blood of the sire, she is risen."

A pink light began to emanate from their joined hands. It throbbed and pulsed with energy as the sire's blood flowed into his offspring's open wound, mingling with hers.

"From the blood of the sire, she shall rise again!"

Moments later, Drusilla's body suddenly snapped taut. Her eyes flew open and focused on the slumping body of her creator.


"If your heart breaks

Don't wait, turn me away

But if your heart's strong

Hold on, I won't delay.."


Long, agonizing minutes crawled by before the light finally began to dim.

When it had died away completely, Dru straightened up and yanked the chain out of the ceiling. Angelus slid bonelessly to the floor, and she shoved him away with one kick.

It was a clear sign that the ritual had been successful.

Drusilla climbed down from the altar, slowly approaching Spike with her hand held out.

He reached into his pocket and drew out a key, then unlocked the manacle from her wrist.

"Well," Lysander said. "That was quick."

Spike looked into Drusilla's dark eyes. For the first time in almost a year, they were clear and focused, and glittering with life as she licked the blood off her hand.

"How you feeling, luv?" he asked, forcing himself to concentrate on her instead of wondering how soon he could get the hell off this damned island.


"Wait..till I come back to your side

We'll forget the tears we cried."


"Ever so much better," she replied. "And terribly, awfully hungry."

Her eyes darted around the room, fixing on Lysander.

Before she could move, Spike grabbed her by her upper arm. "No," he said firmly.

Dru frowned. "But, I'm hungry," she whined.

"I know. There's blood for you in the kitchen."

She shook her head. "Don't want THAT blood," she insisted.

"Drusilla," Spike said patiently, a parent explaining to a child why she couldn't have sweets for breakfast. "There's no one on the island for you to feed from. You don't have a choice."

Lysander, who had been silent up until then, finally spoke. "He's quite right. Let's go up to the kitchen and warm up your meal." Gallantly extending his arm, he smiled. "Shall we?"

Without a word, Dru placed her hand in the bend of his elbow, allowing him to escort her out of the room.

Spike watched them go with only one thought reverberating in his brain, over and over, like a phonograph with a broken needle. <It's over, baby. I'm free..>


"I feel as though

You ought to know

That I've been good

As good as I can be"


His body hummed with a new urgency, and a happiness he hadn't felt since the day he last saw Buffy. <I'm coming home to you, angelface, and I'll never leave you alone again. I swear it. Just hold on a little longer>


"And if you do

I'll trust in you

And know that you will wait for me"


Ignoring the nearly dead vampire still lying where he'd fallen, Spike exited the chapel and followed after Drusilla and Lysander.

Luke met him in the corridor, then trailed along behind him as he issued instructions.


"It's been a long time

Now I'm coming back home

I've been away now, oh how

I've been alone..."


More please...