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Kallysten
Disclaimer : Of course they belong to someone else, I just play with them
sometimes.
Distribution : Sure, just tell me where. When the story is finished, I will
post it on my website at http://www.geocities.com/kallysten_fr/
Feedback : Anything but flames kallysten_fr@yahoo.com
Story notes : This is a sequel to my story His Childe. If you haven't read it,
I strongly suggest you stop right here and go read it first, some things in
here will make more sense if you do.
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Finding the two teenagers took a little bit of time, for which Spike was thankful. He had a royally pissed off Slayer on his hands, and he had no idea what in hell he was going to say to get himself out of that fire. She had a jealous streak, he was very much aware of it, but he rarely ever gave her anything to be jealous about. Why would he even look at other women when he had all he had ever wanted? Whatever she had seen, however, was enough to have made her completely quiet. She hadn’t said a word since warning Manon about Dru. That was bad, he knew, since when Buffy was merely angry, she was loud and in your face and right then. She was way beyond that now, he figured. He was a bit surprised that the storm hadn’t come yet, but was still sure it was coming.
Once they got home at last, she lead him to the kitchen, and warmed two blood bags, their usual after patrol snack. She sat down on a stool at the kitchen island, and he sat across from her. He didn’t have to wait long, but though her voice was icy, the words were not what he had expected.
“What is she doing here?”
“Your guess is as good as mine, luv,” he replied quietly, before adding with a half smile, “She said the stars told her to come.”
“The stars? Whatever. Doesn’t matter. She’s dust.”
The ice was melting fast, but there was still controlled anger in her voice. He looked at her for a long moment, hesitating. But finally, he asked gently:
“If she was my wife instead of my Mate, would you kill her so that I would be yours?”
He saw the surprise in her widening eyes, and she reached to his hand on the table, squeezing it lightly.
“It’s not like that!” she protested. “I want to stake her because she killed Kendra. I owe it to Kendra.”
The words stung his tongue like poison, but he had to let them out.
“She killed one Slayer. I killed four. And you’re not planning on staking me.”
She shook her head then, her gaze softening slightly.
“It’s different. You have changed. Plus you didn’t kill four. Faith doesn’t count. And neither do I.”
At that moment, the microwave beeped, and she rose to grab the two mugs. It was easier that way for him, since he didn’t have to see her face as he admitted his unnatural feelings.
“Oh, yes, you do count, both of you. The guilt is the same.”
The last words were just a whisper, but she heard, all too well, and turned to him, eyebrow raised, not understanding.
“The guilt? I told you not to feel guilty about me. And Faith wanted to die, you said it yourself!”
“Just because she understood why she had to die, it doesn’t mean she wanted to. Just like…”
He paused for a brief second, his eyes on the dark liquid in the mug he held, unable to meet her gaze as he murmured the rest.
“Just like seeing why I have to live doesn’t mean I want to.”
Her soft hand reached to his cheek, pulled his face up gently until his eyes met hers.
“You don’t want to be human?”
“I want to be me, Buffy,” he replied hesitantly as he covered her hand with his. “I want to be the man you fell in love with.”
“But it will still be you.”
He shook his head lightly.
“You don’t know that. I don’t know that. Angel with a soul is not the same as Angel with no soul. Why would it be different for me? Goodbye Spike, hello William. After two minutes with him you’ll run away laughing.”
He said the last part bitterly, and she answered in her gentlest voice.
“No I won’t. Because I know there’s more of William in you than what you admit. Where do you think your guilt comes from?”
He had no idea, and that was part of the problem. He tried to force a smirk on his lips as he answered: “Insanity?”
She recognized his feeble attempt at lightening the atmosphere, and replied to it with a faint smile.
“You’re insane if you think I’ll stop loving you.”
* * * * *
Buffy watched her lover, just as he watched her, both silent, both having feared to lose the other’s love, both now reassured. Or almost…
“So you promise you’ll still love me when I’m human?” he asked at last, still a bit hesitant.
She walked around the island to him and climbed on his lap, pressing a kiss to his lips.
“I promise.”
His arms encircled her, holding her tight against him, and she nuzzled the crook of his neck. Soon, he was asking again, whispering:
“Will you still love me when I ask you not to kill Dru?”
Suppressing a sigh, she pressed her face closer to his neck, nipping with blunt teeth. Why did he have to bring her back in the conversation?
“Spike…I remember a time you offered to stake her for me.”
“Her death would have served a purpose then. It would have proved to you just how much I loved you. Her death today would mean nothing.”
Oh yes, it would mean a lot. More than she would admit out loud. All she could do was name her acceptable excuse.
“Kendra.”
His reply was immediate and expressionless. “Four Slayers.”
She didn’t protest again that only two were true kills. Whatever she thought, in his own eyes he had killed her and Faith. And he felt guilty about it. She was the one who had asked him to kill Faith, so it was her fault. But she still couldn’t understand why he was so protective of Drusilla. What was she exactly for him?
“Do you ask this of me because she’s your Mate?” she asked carefully. “Am I supposed to be content that someone else can claim you as theirs?”
He sighed then, a deep, tired sigh, and tenderly brought her face up so he could look at her, resting his forehead against hers.
“We will soon be humans, luv. Whatever link exists between her and me won’t matter then. Listen, I am not in love with her any more. You have all my heart, be sure of that. But I just cannot stop caring. If for no other reason that if not for her, I wouldn’t be here with you today.”
“But Angel is your Sire,” she protested, confused.
“He sired me,” he acquiesced softly. “But Dru found me. Chose me.”
She remembered then what he had said, long ago, while both she and Drusilla were chained in his crypt.
“The face of your salvation,” she murmured.
He blinked twice, apparently surprised that she had remembered. Then he smiled, very slightly.
“She was,” he said as he caressed her cheek. “But now you are.”
His words made her feel warm, loved, and she closed the distance that separated their lips, just brushing her mouth to his.
“I won’t hunt her,” she said softly. “But if I find her killing in my town…”
She didn’t need to voice the threat. He knew. After all, not that long ago, she had been ready to stake him when she thought he was killing. His fingers glided to her hair, freeing it from her ponytail before stroking it lightly.
“You won’t find her, luv. She will leave.”
He sounded sure of himself, too sure, and she almost asked him how he could know that. His tongue tracing a path down her neck, however, distracted her, and quickly Drusilla was the farthest thing from her mind.
* * * * *
She was aware she was dreaming, knew her body was tangled with Spike’s in their bed. At the same time she knew it wasn’t an ordinary dream. Nor was it a Slayer dream. This was something different altogether.
She glanced down at herself, finding that she was clothed in garments from another century. A doll’s dress. Her surroundings became clearer, as if her eyes were focusing at last, and it didn’t take long for her to recognize where she was. Angel’s mansion.
There was a light chuckle behind her and she turned quickly, not really surprised at finding Drusilla in front of her.
“Come to me,” the vampiress said softly. “I will show you games I used to play with my William. He is mine, you know?”
Before Buffy could reply, or act on her desire for violence, Drusilla was gone, as was the mansion, and she drifted into real dreams.
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