Chapter 11
Author's Notes: A/N: Okay, so the general consensus of the last chapter was…Angel wasn’t too terribly out of character and people think I’m a meanie-head for acquiescing to the “Spike” demand without including “Buffy.”
*points to halo* I’m not a meanie-head. I’m just a…ummm…*hides*
Okay, okay…so if I give you smut, will you be satisfied? ‘Cause I have smut… *bribes*
Heh. Seriously, guys, thank you for all the wonderful feedback and encouragement. You brighten up my day in so many ways. Thank you.
New England, 1701
A splatter of yellow, red, and orange stained her hands. Paint had long since crusted against her skin and she knew without a doubt that she’d be scrubbing herself raw for hours to eradicate the evidence of her artistic foray. She was supposed to be training. She was
always supposed to be training. The light of day was a shield to protect her from the evils at night—the sunlit hours were, therefore, occupied by Kenneth and a variety of exercises she was expected to have accomplished by suppertime.
Once upon a time, her Watcher had accompanied her into the daylight. He would stand under the cool shade of an oak tree, barking orders and offering criticism to whatever flaw he noted in her form. Sometimes he would have her hunt down demon breeding grounds and take out whole clusters of otherwise nocturnal creatures when they could not fight back. Sometimes he would send her on missions to find some ancient artifact rumored to be buried or hidden in the woods and caves surrounding their village. Sometimes he was simply content to allow her to practice new moves on the scarecrows he was constantly piecing together. There was no pattern to Kenneth’s orders. He simply threw whatever he wished at her, and he expected nothing less than perfect completion by sundown.
Today, she was to be dismantling the hay-stuffed dummies with a series of new moves and low punches. Once she was finished, she was to piece the dummies together again and repeat as needed.
Elizabeth turned her hands over and stared at her open palms. Yes, it would take hours to scrub the paint away.
But it was worth it.
She glanced up again with a grin. William was going to love this.
Things had changed between them so rapidly it was hard for her, at times, to grasp that it was actually happening; she wasn’t dreaming and she hadn’t lost her mind. It was actually happening. Nights were something she anticipated now with the patience of a child at Christmastime. It was becoming increasingly difficult to smother her grin upon leaving the cottage at sundown, as it was keeping her feet from skipping every other step and her mouth from humming along with the song occupying her heart. Her patrols were fun. Adventurous. Passionate.
Because William was there. William was always there. He’d meet her smiling eyes with a twinkle in his own, grab her around the waist and maul her lips with his, demanding kisses as though it hadn’t been only a matter of hours since they last saw each other. Then he’d fall into stride next to her, and while he didn’t participate in the fight every night, he always kept vigilant watch at her back. He was always prepared to jump in if she needed him.
More often, though, William simply enjoyed watching her. She moved like poetry, he said. And he was a man who had an appreciation for poetry.
The months had been good to them, if not a little stressful. Elizabeth didn’t know why, but she had assumed that it would become easier for them to keep their secret the longer they were together. She’d thought the eggshells on which she treaded would become pliant with age, rather than harden.
She expected her fear of discovery would ease in time. She expected she would eventually stop looking over her shoulder. She expected the rush of terror which commanded her insides every night upon sneaking into her bedroom would eventually fade. She expected so many things.
And even though Kenneth remained none the wiser, she was terrified.
It was one of the reasons she insisted that William remain in the makeshift cellar they had built during daylight hours. Even if Kenneth
did find the cottage William had secured for them, he wouldn’t find her lover slumbering, and therefore wouldn’t have the opportunity to catch him off guard.
Wouldn’t have the opportunity to dust William in the daylight.
While William was touched at her concern, he was similarly certain she had nothing to worry about. He did as she begged him, of course, and had a second bed stored in the subterranean room. After their nightly patrols, they would race each other to their small home, warring with each other to see who could get naked the fastest. Limbs entangled, tongues battling tongues as they pawed at each other with need beyond anything any poet ever put in words. They would crash onto their bed and make love for hours, holding each other in the sweet aftermath while talking about everything and nothing at all—about things which held no consequence, but somehow made her happy all the same. In the early hours of morning they would take solace in each other’s bodies again, argue whether or not William would walk her home, and end their night with hungry, desperate kisses a safe distance away from the Travers’ residence and promises that soon they wouldn’t be forced to part. Soon they would be able to awaken in each other’s arms. Soon they wouldn’t be made to say goodbye every morning.
Elizabeth just had to make the move to leave Kenneth. She had to tell him it was over—that while she appreciated his guidance and his role as the father she never knew, she was ready to live her life.
She knew, of course, that Kenneth wouldn’t see things quite her way. Chances were he wouldn’t even acknowledge her beyond a quick chuckle and a nod to the day’s itinerary. William, however, remained resolutely unconcerned.
If Kenneth didn’t acknowledge her independence, he said, it was solely his problem. Once she declared herself free of him, she was no longer bound to his orders or subject to his anger. Once she declared herself free, she and William would leave the village and go somewhere where her Watcher would never find them.
It sounded lovely, as far as dreams went.
She just hoped she had the courage to make the dream a reality.
“Have you been here all day?”
Elizabeth jumped and turned, slightly mortified her special William senses hadn’t buzzed.
Or rather they had; she had reckoned they were responding to her thoughts of William rather than William himself.
“Will,” she breathed, a blush tingeing her cheeks. She hadn’t wanted him to see her smeared with paint, but there was nowhere to hide so she didn’t try. She was on her knees on the bedroom floor, hands saturated in a blend of orange and yellow, the wall for the most part complete, if not perfect. “I…ummm…is it sunset?”
“A few minutes ago,” he replied. “Din’t answer my question, pet. Have you really been here all day?”
She shrugged guiltily. “About an hour after you walked me home, Kenneth had me out again. I’m allegedly destroying scarecrows.”
“Because after fighting the spawn of hell all night, a lot of straw-ridden dummies are gonna provide you with good defense techniques.” William rolled his eyes, which landed, not so subtly, on her artwork. “This your alternative?”
Elizabeth wrinkled her nose and wiggled, feeling at once very self-conscious. “I’m sorry it’s not good. I just thought…”
William turned back to her, his gaze tender, the lines of his face softened with awe. “Buffy…”
A thrill raced down her spine. She so adored that name. Not that she’d ever admit it, of course, but she adored it just the same. She loved the freedom of being Buffy with him. Buffy the girl. The lover. The woman.
Buffy, who was with William. Who was only Buffy when with William. He never expected her to be anything more, and never thought of her as anything less.
“Do you like it?” she asked gently, rising to her feet.
“Did you…God, you did this for me?”
“It’s still wet; don’t touch it.” Elizabeth glanced down with a small, secretive smile. “You…I just thought…if we ever got the chance, we might watch the sunrise in here.” She indicated the small window which sat across from the entrance to the bedroom. “It should strike the wall every morning. I’m not sure if—”
She would like to think she would have said something profound had William not moaned her name and stormed forward, capturing her paint-smeared cheeks between his hands and brushing his lips over hers. And as always, the taste of his kiss had the walls melting and the world swirling away until there was nothing left but the two of them. Nothing but the sensation of William’s mouth moving against hers, his thumbs stroking her cheeks with loving tenderness. The smooth whisper of his tongue stroking her tongue. The firm feel of his body against her body. The hardness of his erection as their hips moved together. There was nothing but this.
Nothing but William.
“You painted me the sunrise,” William murmured, pressing a kiss across the corner of her mouth.
“You deserve it,” she murmured back.
“Oh Buffy…”
“Do you like it?”
“You made it for me.”
Elizabeth grinned and curled her arms under his shoulders, walking them backward not-so-subtly until her legs hit the edge of their bed. “Pretend for a second that I did not.”
“But you did.”
“I used the word
pretend for a reason, Will.”
He smirked against her mouth, his hands dropping to her waist so he could drag her dress-shirt over her head. “Someone’s feisty t’night.”
“I’m always feisty.”
“An’ that’s why I love you.” William grinned, tossing her top to the ground so his palms were free to cradle her breasts. “Have I told you I love you?”
Warmth flooded her insides as heat flamed her cheeks. The words never grew old. He whispered them a thousand times a night. He’d kiss her hello and then tell her he loved her. He’d shout his love for her in the middle of a particularly nasty fight with the local demons. He’d make a mantra of the declaration as he unwrapped her from her clothing. His lips would whisper love as they kissed her skin. And the second his cock was locked inside her, his body sang all else which couldn’t be entrusted with words.
William loved her.
There was actually someone in her life who loved her. Someone who didn’t see her as a duty or a burden. Someone who loved her for who she was and not what she was. Every time he whispered those magical words, she was propelled into a world where there was nothing lurking in the shadows. Where there was nothing but William waiting for her in the night. Where the home she returned to was one she loved rather than dreaded.
“Not yet tonight,” she replied cheekily.
William’s eyes twinkled, his mouth skimming southward to taste her throat. “Shame on me.”
“Yes, shame.” She hissed and thrust her hips against his as he guided her onto her back, his body falling easily between her thighs. “You’re a bad man.”
He grinned, skimming his blunt teeth along her jugular. “The baddest.”
“Ohhh…touch me.”
“I am touching you, sweetheart.” His thumbs caressed her nipples before his left hand dipped between them to unfasten her trousers. “God, I love you.”
“I love you.”
William glanced up and smiled into her eyes. “I love hearing that.” He watched her face expectantly as his fingers grazed through her curls, uncovering her clitoris and favoring the small pearl with a delicate caress. “Have you given any more thought to what I asked?”
Elizabeth’s heart skipped a beat and her breath caught in her throat. Thought? She’d been able to think of little else since the question crossed his lips; since he explained what it would mean to him—to
them. It was one of the reasons she’d been desperate to occupy her mind with something meaningful. With something beyond the tedium wrought in everyday life.
She wanted to say yes more than anything.
The part of her which was afraid of taking the final step, however, could not be moved. If she consented to what he’d asked, they would essentially be transformed into fugitives. They would have to run from Kenneth. From the Watcher’s Council. From the world. There would never be any rest.
But they would be together. And even though her mind was in conflict, her heart was decided.
She wanted this. Any life with William was better than the half-life she was living now.
She wanted to be alive always and not only in the hours shared with him.
“I’m afraid,” she murmured.
“Bollocks,” William replied fondly. “You’re afraid of nothing.”
“I’m afraid of what Kenneth could do to you if he finds—”
He rolled his eyes, his index and middle fingers sliding between her vaginal lips, his thumb settling over her clitoris. “Not this again,” he muttered, though his tone was good-natured. While she knew he didn’t like her constantly tormenting herself over his safety, she also knew there was a part of him which very much loved having someone worry over him.
“Will, you need to listen—”
“’m not afraid of the old git.”
Elizabeth inhaled sharply, jerking her hips forward to drive his fingers further into her body. “I’m afraid for you,” she replied breathily. “You don’t know what he’s capable of…”
“Vampire, kitten. Remember?”
“He’s killed vampires.”
“Buffy, please.” William’s head ducked, his tongue flicking over one of her nipples. “We’ll go away. Far away. We’ll go anywhere that’s not here. I’ll take such good care of you…”
A watery smile crossed her face. “You already do.”
“We won’ have to say goodbye every morning.” William paused, his lips unable to refrain from brushing over her breast, his fingers adapting a cool rhythm driving in and out of her aching body. “If it’s the…the other…the part where you’re mine forever—”
“It’s not.”
If anything, it was the promise of eternity in William’s arms that acted as the strongest counter to her head’s logical argument. An eternity with the man she loved was worth anything; eventually, eternity would turn in her favor. Kenneth wouldn’t live forever. Not like she would. Another slayer would be called and free her of her mission. Kenneth would be angry, of course, but powerless to do anything about it. And eventually he would die, and she would be entirely liberated of his control.
She would be liberated of him entirely.
“Yeah?” he asked hopefully, the hand at her breast deserting her sensitive skin to free his cock.
“I want that with you, Will…”
“Then take it.” He grinned and nipped at her ear. “We’ll watch the sunrise tomorrow.”
“I need to go home—”
“You are home, love. This is the only home that matters.”
Elizabeth tossed her head back and gasped as her vampire’s lips found her throat again, his tongue laving the bite mark he’d given her their first night. Arousal tugged at her gut and she felt herself drench his fingers with desire. Then his hand abandoned her center and the head of his erection nudged her sensitive folds, pressing into her body with slow intensity which had her insides swirling into an unconquerable storm.
The only home that mattered.
The home she had with William. This small place where they lived for a few short hours a day. Where they were together.
“Come on, sweetheart,” William gasped, thrusting himself all the way home. “Watch the sunrise with me. The one you painted…”
She was drowning in his eyes.
“Buffy…my Buffy…”
“Oh…”
“Please.
Please…”And then there was no question. None at all. The clouds parted and the stars pierced through the darkness, allowing an instant of perfect clarity. Of unbreakable understanding. Any price was worth paying if this was what she came home to at the end of the day. If she could have this—have William—for always. If she could live her life rather than watch others live around her.
She had love now. She had a reason for living beyond the monotony of her duty. The perilous certainty of her eventual death. The meaninglessness of her existence to herself, no matter how much meaning she gave others.
“Yes,” she gasped, arching her hips off the mattress in desperation. “Yes, Will.”
Awe overpowered him. “Buffy…?”
“Make me yours.”
She heard his gasp and saw his fangs, and then her body was plunged into ecstasy beyond grasp. He thrust into her with raw animality, need surpassing tenderness. The air around them exploded into the illicit smacks of their bodies rocking together, the wet suctioning sound that hissed through the air every time he tried to pull himself away from her pussy. He drank hard and deep, commanding every part of her that she had to give.
“Mine,” William growled against her bloodied flesh. “You’re mine.”
“Oh yes.”
“Oh God. God…” He pulled back and smashed his mouth to hers, too much in need to shake his demon away. His fangs nicked her lips but she didn’t care. She was drunk on his taste, lost in the sensations he sent racketing through her body; pain and pleasure often went hand-in-hand with him, and even if it rendered her hellbound, there was nothing about being with William that she would trade or change. Not for anything. “Buffy? Please…”
She needed no direction. Elizabeth snapped to herself and lodged her teeth in his throat, clamping down until her tongue was bathed in the undeniable taste of blood. His blood. Her lover’s blood.
And after this…after tonight…
Mate. “Mine,” she whispered, licking delicately at the mark she’d made. “William…”
“God, yes. Yours. Always yours.”
Her vision blurred, pleasure seizing her every cell. “I love you.”
“I love you. God, how I love you.”
“Yours.”
William nodded hard and kissed her again, his hips still rocking desperately against hers. “Always. My Slayer.
Mine.” It was done, then. It was complete.
She was one with him. She was whole.
And from this, there was no going back.
TBC