Love and Death Embrace by Addie Logan

Summary: Once, William Pratt was a quiet poet, madly in love with his wife, Drusilla. Now, Spike is a loner, hunting in the night for the monster who took her away. He is focused on vengeance, making no room for anything else in his life – until his plan to get his revenge takes a turn he never could have predicted.

Author's Notes: Parts of this fic get very dark. There’s angst, there’s violence, there’s stuff that’s not altogether happy. It’s not all angst, but there is a good bit, especially in certain parts. If at any point it gets to be two much for you, you can do one of two things: stop reading, hold your breath and hope it gets better, or email me and ask me to answer any question you have about what’s coming up to see if it’s something you still want to read. (I’ll always answer those questions in private emails sent to addie_logan@yahoo.com. I will not answer them in a public forum like my livejournal or a review page. I don’t want to spoil the story for people who don’t want to know.)

However, what I ask you not to do is complain to me about things being too dark or tell me it’s too much for you. I have some readers who have problems with angst and some who don’t. I’m not going to shortchange the ones who do, or myself for that matter, because some people can’t take it. That’s not fair to anyone. So if you don’t like what I’m writing, then that’s your personal preference, and you’re free to read something else. I understand that, and I’m fine with it. I’m not fine with flame wars, nor am I fine with people harassing me, writing me threatening emails, or trash talking me around the internet. (And just so you know, I’m not paranoid – this has happened.)

So, to sum up – there is angst. If you like it, that’s cool, keep reading. If you don’t, that’s cool, too, you can quit reading. Or read with one eye covered. Or something. Just don’t flame me.

Chapter 10

It was hours before Spike returned, but Buffy made no attempt to leave the apartment. The temptation to find someone to feed on was there, but she didn’t doubt Spike’s declaration he would stake her if he found out she’d done it. Granted, she could think of worse things than death at the moment, but she was determined to at least outlast Angelus. She wanted him to suffer for turning on her, and she would live long enough to see it. For years she’d accepted his poor treatment of her, deluded herself into thinking he loved her anyway. But now, she knew the truth, and she felt years of hidden resentment bubbling forth, driving her to finally seek revenge against the man who had killed her.

So she didn’t feed the way she truly wanted to. Instead, she drank several more mugs of animal blood, though she had a sinking feeling it would do little to truly heal her.

She’d never subsisted on anything but human blood, so she’d never had a chance to weigh the differences between that and any other sort; however, now, as she watched her body stubbornly refuse to heal the way it should, she knew that the blood she was drinking was vastly inferior to what she was used to.

Buffy wondered if there would be a point where it would be too late for her and no amount of human blood at all would heal her. She hated the thought of being scarred, half blind, forced to be so weak she could barely care for herself. It had been bad enough for a couple of days.

She’d gone back to the bed and was flipping through the channels when Spike came back. She saw a wince cross his face, and grabbed the blanket to cover herself up so he wouldn’t have to look at her. “I didn’t leave,” she told him, realizing as she spoke that she had a need for him to be happy with her, to be proud of her restraint. “I drank the animal blood you brought me.”

“Yeah, that’s good,” Spike replied, clearly distracted. He shifted uncomfortably for a moment by the door before he said, “Buffy, we need to talk.”

Buffy sat up straighter, fear gripping her. She knew she’d messed up bad by enjoying his touch so much. But could he really blame her for it? After all, he was a very attractive man, and clearly knew what he was doing when it came to pleasing a woman.

“Spike, please don’t be angry with me,” Buffy said before Spike had a chance to say anything else. “I’m really sorry I made you do that. It’s just…well, it felt good, and I’ve been hurting for days, so…” She looked down. picking at a stray thread on the blanket. “I know I promised you I wouldn’t do things like that. I’m sorry.”

“What?” Spike asked, his brow furrowing in confusion. “I did that to you, Buffy, not the other way around. You didn’t… I took advantage of you.”

“No, I took advantage of you,” Buffy insisted.

“No, I…” Spike stopped with a shake of his head. “Okay, this is getting silly.” He went over to the bed and sat beside her. “Did you enjoy what I did to you, pet?”

Buffy nodded, though she continued to look down and not at him.

“And did you want it?”

Another nod.

Spike smiled softly and ran his hand along the side of her hair, reveling in the softness of the golden strands. “Don’t feel bad about what happened, sweetheart. If it made you feel better…” He dropped his hand and looked away from her. “It’s the least I can do after what I did to you.”

“But I’m so ugly, Spike,” Buffy said. “You can’t possibly want to touch me. I’m…I’m disgusting.”

Spike looked up sharply, and his words came out forcefully. “You’re beautiful.”

If he’d said it any other way, she would’ve thought he was lying, but it was such a vehement denial of her statement that if gave her pause. “How can you say that? I mean, I haven’t exactly looked at myself in the mirror, but I can imagine how I must look.”

Spike shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. You’re gorgeous. Touching you was… Well, it definitely wasn’t a chore.” He gave her a small, almost shy smile.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I…I only left because I felt like I took advantage of you, and then I was going to apologize when I came back, but um…” He cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

Well, if he by some miracle actually wasn’t repulsed by her and had enjoyed touching her, well, who was she to deny him? “So, if you liked it, do you think maybe you could, um, do it again?” Buffy lowered her eyes and smiled seductively. “It did help with the pain.”

Spike swallowed, his heart thudding in his chest. Just because he hadn’t hurt the girl more didn’t mean he should keep this up. Yes, he found her beautiful, but that didn’t change the fact that she was a vampire. He really, really didn’t need to be having any degree of a sexual relationship with a vampire.

“Is it hurting real bad right now?” he asked her.

Buffy bit her lip and nodded.

“Lay on your back and hold up the bottom of your nightgown, kitten,” Spike said. “Nice an’ high to so I can get to your pussy.”

Buffy trembled as she did as he said, her hand gripping the soft cotton fabric tightly. She knew this whole situation was just getting crazier, but she couldn’t seem to bring herself to stop it. At least maybe she’d have some good memories of her final days when he ultimately staked her…

Spike ran his finger along her swollen nub, his cock jumping in his pants when the slight touch made her moan and jerk her hips. Knowing she really wanted this only served to make him hotter, and he wondered how he was going to fight the urge to take things farther than just pleasing her. She was clearly still in too bad of shape for anything past being passive while he pleasured her, and he wasn’t really sure that was a place he wanted to go anyway, given the nature of their relationship.

Still, he wasn’t satisfied with just his fingers. She was glistening, tantalizing, and he needed more. “Buffy?”

Her voice was shaky as she responded. “Yeah?”

“Would it be all right if I used my mouth on you?”

Buffy suppressed a moan at the mere thought. He had to ask that? “Yes,” she told him, her hips bucking again. “Please…”

Spike took a pillow and slid it under her bottom, then carefully spread her legs open, mindful of her wounds. He’d have to be gentle, make sure he was helping to take away her pain and not cause more. Once he had them both well situated, he lowered his head, breathing in her scent before giving her slit an experimental lick.

He couldn’t prevent the low moan that rumbled in his throat at his first taste of her. Never would he have expected a vampire to taste so damn good. Already he could foresee easily becoming addicted to her flavor, and he had to take a deep breath to calm himself before he set to work on her in earnest. He had to be gentle, had to keep himself restrained so he didn’t hurt her.

Even if all he wanted to do was feast on her until she screamed his name.

Instead, he tended to her with steady licks to her clit, listening to her pant and moan above him. Slowly, he slid two fingers inside of her, unable to stop himself from moaning, too, when he felt how tight she was. He wanted to pull out his cock and stroke himself in time with his fingers, but this was for her. This had to be for her.

“Spike…” she moaned above him, the sound of her saying his name while writhing in pleasure making him grow even harder. “Feels…feels so good. Don’t stop… Please, please don’t stop…”

Spike certainly had no intention of stopping. Even when she began to flutter around his fingers, signaling the beginnings of an orgasm, he kept up his steady pace, wanting to bring her off again. She made soft, strangled sobbing sounds, her body bucking against him, but she didn’t move to stop him, didn’t tell him it was too much, and Spike kept going.

The first orgasm had been a gentle one, but Buffy knew the next one was going to be much, much harder. Her body was going into overload, the pleasure from his tongue and fingers and the pain from her burns bringing too many sensations for her to handle. She vamped out, screamed his name, and ripped the sheets with her fingers.

Spike didn’t stop his onslaught until she went slack beneath him. He slid his fingers from her, licking off the juices before he looked up and asked, “Is that enough for now, kitten?”

“Yeah,” Buffy said through ragged pants. “Thank you…”

Spike tugged her nightgown back down, removed the pillow from under her, and pulled the sheet over her, his eyebrow arching as he noticed she’d ripped furrows in it with her nails. He guessed she really did get into that…

Buffy’s eyes closed, her body feeling languid from her orgasms. “Do you want to sleep some more?” Spike asked.

“Yeah. Tired now…” Buffy replied, snuggling down against the pillow.

Spike’s cock was threatening to burst through his jeans, and he glanced towards the bathroom door, knowing she wouldn’t give him any trouble if he went in there and took care of the problem. But she looked so inviting in the bed, and much to his surprise, he found the need to be with her stronger than his need to seek release. He took off his boots then got into the bed, carefully pulling her against him so as not to rub too hard against her burns.

Buffy turned in his arms, buried her face against his chest, and fell asleep with a smile on her face.

Spike held her, his fingers in her hair, as he wondered how he’d managed to bugger this up so entirely.

And what he was going to do now that he had.

*** *** ***

Buffy woke several hours later, still wrapped up in Spike’s arms. The room was pitch black, but she could make him out in the darkness, her preternatural senses allowing him to see his face – to see him watching her.

“I ache,” she told him in a whisper, before taking his hand and guiding it down beneath the sheets, between her legs. Spike slid a finger in her without question, pumping it in and out while his thumb circled her clit.

The first touch of their lips was tender, hesitant, but it soon grew in passion, Spike’s free hand clutching the unburned side of her face to keep her against him. She moaned into his mouth, bucked against his hand, and he knew just how gone he was.

Right and wrong didn’t matter anymore. Who he was, who she was – none of it mattered.

The only thing that did matter was he was drowning in her.

She broke away from his lips when she came, giving one soft, strangled cry as she clenched hard around his finger.

“Did that help the ache?” Spike asked as he slowly pulled his hand away from her.

“Yes,” Buffy said, the word coming out with a puff of breath. “Your touch… Oh, Spike…”

“Buffy…” he whispered before taking her lips again, tasting the salt of her tears on them as he kissed her gently, aware – always aware – of the wounds he’d inflicted. Impossible dreams of a life they could never share crept into his thoughts, and he cursed fate for making his heart feel alive again for a woman who was already dead.

Buffy broke away from his lips, looked into his eyes, and knew what he was thinking. “Don’t, Spike. Not…not now. Just pretend with me for a little while, okay?”

In that moment, he couldn’t deny her anything. She pulled his lips to hers again, and he kissed her in the dark.