Chapter Fifteen
“Buffy, I’m so sorry,” Willow said as the girls moved around the kitchen, making something to eat.
“For what? I hope not Xander. His prejudice isn’t your fault,” Anne said, pulling a mug out from the cabinet. She then cut open the blood packet and dumped the contents inside. Willow waited until she had put the mug in the microwave and turned back to her before speaking again.
“No, not that. It’s just. . .” she looked out the window into the fading day, and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Willow.” Anne walked over to her friend, and placed a hand on her arm. “What is it?” A tear slid from Willow’s eye, and she brushed it away.
“I think, that I’m partially to blame for Spike taking so long to find you,” she whispered.
“What do you mean?” Willow looked at her again, and sighed.
“The last time Spike came to town, I knew you had a son. I didn’t know who his father was, I swear. But, Joyce told us that if Spike came through again, to tell him that she wanted to see him.” Anne’s eyes widened at that. Her mother, was trying to help her? Guilt and love warred inside of her, but she shook them away to listen to Willow’s confession.
“I’m guessing you didn’t?” There was no accusation in the tone, merely curiosity. Willow shook her head, pressing her lips together to hold back her tears.
“Xander convinced me not to. Said it would only cause unneeded trouble. And, I just went along with him. After that, was when I found your mother with the picture. It was all I could do not to chase Spike myself. If I’d have know, Buffy, I would’ve told him. Especially since it was so obvious that Joyce wanted him to know. I’m sorry.” The last was said so quietly, that Anne had to struggle to hear her. Willow squeezed her friend back when she felt the strong arms surround her.
“It’s okay, honey. You didn’t know. I didn’t exactly send out announcements when he was born. You, at least, were acting on the information that you knew. I’m sure Xander didn’t tell you that Spike was the father for his own selfish reasons.” Anne pulled back, and wiped the tears away from her friend’s cheeks.
“I just. . .So much wasted time. I don’t see how he’s not seething with jealousy and anger at Mark for being there since the beginning, and Xander and me for not telling. I would be,” Willow said with a sniff. Anne snorted a little.
“I’m sure he was jealous of Mark. Actually, I KNOW he was. But, they seemed to work it out. I mean look.” The women moved to the open area over the kitchen bar and looked into the loving room. There, the two males were smoking, and discussing the merits and differences of each of their country’s versions of football, Matt sitting on Spike’s lap and hanging on every word. Spike was a steadfast soccer fan. And Mark was a diehard football fan. Both made Anne and Willow cringe. Chuckling, they turned away from the male bonding and started to gather the sandwiches they had made for dinner. “As for the pissed off part. I’m sure he is, at Xander. He would probably understand your involvement, because you have been so accepting of him now.”
“Buffy?”
“Yeah?” She turned back towards the redhead, smiling at the lines of worry that still marred her smooth brow.
“Do you ever worry about what the future will bring? I mean since Spike got here,” she finished quickly. A frown formed on Anne’s face as she thought about it.
“Yeah. I have. I mean, this is so not the norm. He’s a vampire and I was the Slayer. Not supposed to be mixy. But, I gotta say, SOMEBODY must have some greater plan for us, if they allowed a child to come from us. Maybe this is how it was always supposed to be. A Slayer and a vampire. I don’t know. I’m scared that he might decide to leave. Not like the family thing and go back to the killing. I don’t think he will. He hasn’t killed in five years, but eternity is a long time. Who knows? Then, there’s that. Me and Matt won’t live forever. How is he going to handle watching us grow old and die, while he’s forever young? I just don’t know, Will. And I try not to think about it. The here and now is what’s important. Why do you ask?” Anne could sense that there was something else behind the question. Could tell by the look in the clear, green eyes staring back at her. Willow ducked her head, so her bright hair hid her face.
“What Xander said this afternoon, about me and Mark. He’s right. My life is in California. Mark’s is here. How do we make that work?” Anne walked over to her friend and wrapped her in her arms once more.
“All I can say is talk to him. He’s a pretty terrific guy. Who knows, he just may decide that life on the Hellmouth could be fun,” she said with a smile. “Are you in love with him?” Willow’s eyes shot to hers, and the look in them gave her her answer.
“I think so,” Willow admitted quietly. Anne’s smile was huge.
“Then, you do everything possible to stay together,” she said with finality.
“HEY! Where’s the food?!” Spike’s voice reached them from the living room. Rolling their eyes, the girls disentangled themselves from each other. Willow grabbed the tray with the food, and Anne grabbed Spike’s mug from the microwave. Together, they walked back into the living room, to the cheers of the men.
~*~*~
With flourish, Mark pushed open the door of his apartment, and watched Willow as she preceded him inside. She moved to the center of the room, arms wrapped around herself as she waited for him to follow her. Throwing his keys onto the table by the entrance, he flipped the lightswitch and bathed the room in the soft light of three lamps. Willow took in her surroundings, liking the way his apartment looked. The front door opened into the rather large living room/ dining area. To the left was the dark oak dining table and chairs. As well as guitar stand, complete with guitar and amp. The living room was on the right. A large, comfy looking hunter green couch was turned facing the right wall where the entertainment center was standing. Two matching chairs flanked that. The coffee table and end tables were made to look rustic and woodsy, like a frontiersman had built them out of sticks they found in the forest. One lamp sat on each end table, the clay bottom reminiscent of Indian pottery. The third lamp was sitting on top of the tv. Around the room, she could see the evidence of his Indian heritage. Pictures of tribal rituals adorned the walls, as well as a painted portrait of an Indian maiden in full regalia. Next to it, was a picture of Mark, and an old woman. Moving closer, Willow inspected it.
The old woman was much shorter than Mark, barely reaching his stomach. Her long, gray and black hair hung over her shoulder in a braid. Life and laugh lines etched her face, and her eyes sparkled merrily, making her seem much younger than her obvious years. She carried the aura of good living, and Willow found herself instinctively liking the woman in the picture.
“Old Indian grandmother?” she asked with a smile. Mark had been watching her from his position by the door as she took in his belongings. A part of him recognized how much she belonged there. With him. He pushed himself away from the wall and walked over to her, sliding his hands over her shoulders and peering down at the picture himself. Willow sighed and leaned back into him.
“Yep. That’s her. That was taken last year at her birthday.” He smiled fondly at the memory. Rose Lynch looked at aging as a badge of honor. Every line and every grey hair had a story to tell, she often said. She had turned seventy that day, and she was as beautiful to Mark then, as she had been in her youth.
“What happened to your parents?” she asked. He had never mentioned them, and she had a feeling it wasn’t good. A sad smile touched his lips, but she didn’t see, she was still looking at the picture.
“Car crash. I was five.” She turned in his arms then, and wrapped hers around his waist. Her green eyes raised to meet his, sympathy swimming in their depths.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. He smiled, and raised a hand to run it over her hair.
“It’s alright. It was a long time ago. And, I got to be raised by my grandparents. Gramps was determined to turn me into the proper warrior. Of course, he was baffled that I was more interested in playing the guitar than learning how to properly hunt a deer.” He chuckled a bit. Her own laugh joined his. “Poor old man never did quite know what to do with me.” A look of fond remembrance crossed his features, and he smiled down at Willow.
“I’d like to meet them,” she said, resting her cheek against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat, and the feel of him in her arms dispelling any doubts she had been harboring. They would find a way.
“Well, Rose is no problem. She would love to get a hold of you and tell you all my dirty secrets.” She snorted at that. “Harry, though. Harry I’m afraid went to meet the Great Spirit five years ago. Heart attack.” She didn’t say I’m sorry again, but, it was written all over her expressive face when she looked up at him. “What about your folks?” he asked. Immediately regretting it when a cloud flooded her eyes.
“They’ve spent the better part of the last twenty two years alternating between ignoring me and studying me,” she said, a trace of bitterness lacing her words. “Kinda like an animal in the zoo.” He reached up and cupped her cheek, sliding his thumb along her skin. The black of his eyes traveled over her face, a flare of anger at her parents’ stupidity flashing through them.
“They’re fools. How could they not know the treasure that God had given them?” Her eyes swam at that, the hurt her parents had unleashed on her over the years threatening to spill over. “Sh,” he crooned, leaning down to tease her lips with his. She returned the gentle caresses with her own, seeking the hot tingles that only he could elicit. Her arms moved from his waist to his shoulders, her fingers playing in the silk of his hair as she crushed herself along his hard body. He tightened his arms around her, the kiss turning more passionate. Tongues, lips and teeth battled and soothed, heat coursing through their bodies.
In a grand gesture that rivaled any done by Rhett Butler to Scarlett O’Hara, Mark swept her up in his arms and carried her back to his bedroom. Once they were there, clothes came of swiftly, as if their passion would consume them in its fiery embrace. Once she was naked, and her pale, almost translucent skin was bathed in nothing but the moonlight filtering in from the windows, Mark laid her back on the bed. The first touch of his mouth to her heaving breast caused her to moan loudly. Her fingers fisted in his hair, as he nibbled slowly on the hard peak, his mustache tickling her skin and sending delicious shivers racing over her and straight to the very center of her being. His fingers danced along her flesh, the roughened digits memorizing every silken curve. He trailed his tongue across the valley of her breasts, to the other soft mound, giving it equal attention. She mewled softly when his fingers brushed the soft curls of her sex, and she surged her hips up to urge him on. She gasped when his tongue slid lazily down her stomach, dipping playful into her belly button, and then lower. There eyes locked when he kneeled on the floor between her thighs, his large, warm hands sliding between the bed and her buttocks. He gently kneaded the swells of her ass, his black eyes burning hers before he dipped his head to taste.
She reared off the bed at the first swipe of his tongue across her heated core. Her legs came up to wrap around his neck as he feasted greedily on her juices. Her fingers plucked uselessly on the comforter, her breaths came in shallow gasps as the throb in her center mirrored the strokes of his tongue on her sex. Alternating between her clit and her entrance, Mark slowly, langorioulsy brought her to the edge. When she was writhing beneath him, her hands desperately trying to push him closer to her, he stiffened his tongue and attacked her with a ferocity like no other. The sound of his name, followed by several ‘Oh God’s’ broke his own hold on his control. While she was still trembling from the force of her climax, his nude body skimmed over hers, his shaft sliding effortlessly into her tight, fluttering heat.
They both groaned as he filled her, their joining seeming to be the one thing that could bring them peace. He kissed her deeply as he began to move, his hands gripping her knees and spreading her wide to his plundering thrusts. Her nails dug into the strong muscles of his shoulders, her hips grinding against his. Thrust for thrust, stroke for stroke they met, equal in passion. As he felt his orgasm start to take over, he tore his mouth away from hers, and buried his face in her hair. One of his hands moved between their sweat slicked bodies to find the hard nubbin. With a gentle twist, they crashed over the edge together.
“I love you, Willow,” he gasped into her hair, shuddering violently with the force of his climax. She was just as moved beneath him, the strength of his words lightening her heart. When he raised his head to look at her, she ran her fingers through his hair, her eyes shining with unshed tears. He brushed a thumb over her lashes, gathering the moisture.
“I love you, too.” She smiled at his slightly dumbfounded expression, and leaned up to kiss his surprise softened mouth. Slowly, they began to move together again, the force of their feelings pushing them to reiterate it, over and over. The room filled with soft moans and whispers of love as they fell into oblivion once more.
~*~*~
Spike moved through the house, silently turning off the lights and checking the locks. Anne was putting Matt to bed, and he could hear her quiet voice drift out of the room as he approached.
“Goodnight, honey,” Anne said, leaning down to brush a kiss across his forehead.
“G’night Mommy. G’night Daddy,” Matt said, turning his bright blue eyes on the blonde vampire. Spike moved into the room, and wrapped his child in his arms. It amazed him that the child never shied away from the coolness of his body. He often wondered what he, a soulless demon, had done to deserve these treasures. The love of the Slayer, and the miracle of a child.
“Goodnight, bit,” he said, ruffling his hair. They stood together, and left the room, Anne flipping off the light as they left.
Moving into her room, they closed the door and fell into each other’s arms. Gentle kisses and soft touches slid across skin as it was revealed to their hungry gazes. Sighs of contentment filled the air as he pushed slowly, reverently into her heat. Warm, silken limbs entwined with cool, smooth, muscular ones as they moved together in the dance of the ages. Movements became more urgent as their release approached, and with soft keens of love, they fell over into bliss. Afterwards, they curled around each other, the sound of his purr filling the air.