Ill Met By Moonlight – Act IV

This entry is part 4 of 5 in the series Ill Met by Moonlight
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Containing, among other things, Titania and Oberon’s reconciliation (yes, the spuffyness, in other terms)…

Buffy led Riley hand in hand through the woods, hoping she hadn’t missed Willow and Tara’s big event, and determined to show off her new boyfriend.

“It can’t be far. Come on,” the blonde flashed him a smile as she tugged him forward again. Riley was speechless, in awe of the girl’s grace and beauty, as well as her perceptive heart. He thought himself the happiest man on earth. Well, if he was still a man….

“Uh, Buffy?” He rumbled uncertainly.

“What, lover?” She paused, stepping lightly back towards him and leaning her body into his. Riley stifled a groan, fighting the urge to take advantage of the gorgeous young woman’s flirtatious behaviour. She’d played him hot and cold for weeks, keeping him guessing, even yanking his chain with a faux engagement, and he’d seen some of the looks exchanged between her and Hostile 17. But tonight was different, and it wasn’t just his transformation. Buffy seemed to have genuinely opened up to him, allowed him to see her heart and the fragility of the vessel who embodied the Slayer essence. And that girl was driving him even further out of his mind than he already was.

“I’m just thinking… I’d really like to get back to normal before spending any time with Willow and the gang. Can’t we just go to Giles? The Initiative are going to be out here all night, and I have a class to teach tomorrow.” ‘Focus, Finn, focus. Mission objective here is to get back to normal, not to get physical with Buffy.’

Buffy trailed a finger over the dip in his throat, hooking it lower beneath his torn shirt and stroking lightly, making it hard for him to concentrate.

“I really don’t want to miss Willow and Tara’s big day, sweetie, and you don’t want me to have to go all on my own, do you?” She unleashed the pout that made men tremble, and Riley was by no means immune. He curled his elongated, scaly arm around her waist and nodded.

“Sure, I guess we can spare a little more time, just until the girls get hitched,” he conceded, grinning like an imbecile when Buffy’s face lit up, and happily following her through the woods. Damn, but she was something else.


“When would m’lord like me to lift the enchantment on the lady?” Robin was feeling rather peculiar. He couldn’t quite pin down what was wrong with him: it was as though his skin was trying to crawl away from his spindly skeleton, and he simply couldn’t stay still. Couple that with the serpents slithering in his belly, and he was faced with an entirely new sensation, and all of his symptoms were caused by the vampire at his side. Spike’s jaw was clenched so tight it looked like he was chewing walnuts, and the scowl on his face created ridges and furrows that almost made his demonic visage redundant.

“M’lord?” The puck repeated nervously. Ah, that was this feeling. Robin added nausea to the list of symptoms, although he suspected that was more due to self-disgust. He was immortal, truly beyond death’s reaching grasp, and he was nervous around a vampire, of all things. Maybe he was losing his touch.

Spike’s thoughts were racing, even as he mastered his temper. Seeing Buffy throwing herself at the all-american from Iowa had been amusing for a while, but as the night wore on amusement had begun to turn to jealousy and resentment, his human emotions fuelled and augmented by the demon concealed within until his body screamed to attack his rival. That wouldn’t get him an inch closer to his true goal, though, so he was going to have to come up with a more cunning scenario. A sliver of an idea peeked through the confusion in his mind, and he lunged after it, closing his eyes as he built on his inspiration.

“Let the pair of them get to the grove, and I’ll go talk to her. Keep the boy occupied for a bit, until I give you the nod. He’s predictable, so I expect fireworks when he sees me with the girl, and then we’ll let it play out. Got that?” Spike glared at the puck, brooking no opposition. The small green-haired creature quailed under the vampire’s appraisal, then bowed his head, nodding.

“As you wish, m’lord, so shall it be. I’ll keep our transformed friend a-dazzle with the wonders of faery whilst you woo your lady dear,” he solemnly promised, one long-fingered hand pressed over his chest.

“Right, then. Time for the finale,” Spike muttered, causing Robin to look up sharply. No, the enchantment held fast, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it would hold long enough.


Entering the grove, Buffy failed to notice the scattered fallen forms of her friends as they lay concealed amongst the brush, covered by Robin Goodfellow’s glamour.

“They’re not here yet,” she pouted. “I really hope we didn’t miss everything.”

Riley cast his eyes over the clearing, taking in the cleared space, the candles, and the blanket with various odd-looking paraphernalia laid out on top.

“I don’t think we did – wouldn’t they have packed up when they were done?” he suggested, grimacing as he felt yet another drip of viscous gloop land on the back of his neck.

“Oh! Yeah, looks like they haven’t started yet. Wonder where they are?” The girl frowned, but only for a brief second as she turned to her paramour. “Still…that gives us a little ‘alone time’,” she purred, pulling Riley to her, and he felt his pulse race. He then realised he was feeling distinctly…moist in certain areas, and backed off hurriedly. This was just too grossly weird for him to contemplate, much as the thought of getting up close and personal with Buffy appealed. His unease had been growing as the night wore on, and it was only now that another thought struck him.

The girl had behaved strangely for months, and he’d found that intriguing, charming and mysterious, but she’d never let him close to her. But now, tonight, when he’d been turned into a demon, she was all over him. He’d seen her interactions with Hostile 17, or Spike as she called him, and he knew there was history between them. The bantering, the fighting, the looks…. Maybe Buffy really was more at home with the monsters than with normal people. Perhaps the only reason she wanted him now was because he’d been changed. Did the Slayer just have a fetish for demons? How perverted would that be? And yet… it wasn’t as though she was exactly normal herself. All that mystical power, the strength, the healing, the speed – his brain was really taking him to a place he didn’t want to go, but it was all logical, now he considered it. He couldn’t prevent the distaste he felt from showing in his eyes, and Buffy reached up to his cheek.

“What is it? What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“Nothing. Let’s just have a look round, see if we can find any sign of Willow and Tara.” He backed away from her touch, crossing the clearing, wanting to put some distance between them and refusing to acknowledge the forlorn expression on Buffy’s face.

“Trouble in paradise, pet?” Spike enquired from his slouching pose against a nearby tree. Now why wasn’t she surprised to see him out here?

She shook her head, blonde curls bouncing, her shoulders slumping.

“I don’t know what’s going on. I came round in the woods after a bunch of uglies jumped me, and he was right there, making sure I was okay. I looked at him, and it just hit me – I love him. I really, really love him. But there’s something wrong, and he won’t tell me,” she sighed.

Peeling himself from the trunk, and stifling the flare of anger at hearing her profess her feelings for the boy (albeit magically induced), Spike sauntered lightly to Buffy’s side and placed his hands on her shoulders, cradling her gently.

“He’ll come round, love – maybe he’s just needing some time to adjust,” he fought hard to keep the snigger from his voice. “You do tend to overwhelm a bloke.”

Instead of making one of her usual cutting retorts, Spike was amazed when she covered one of his hands with her own and squeezed gently. A tentative smile curved her lips as she gazed into his face.

“Thank you, Spike. Somehow, I knew you’d understand. Funny really – you always have understood what I’m feeling, even back when we were kicking the crap out of each other. How do you do that?” Buffy asked him, hazel eyes clear even in the dappled moonlight. Her candid expression made him want to weep: she was finally asking him the question that would set him free, and she had no idea whatsoever of the consequences.

“Slayer… Buffy,” he tightened his hold on her and took a breath. “I know because I can feel you as though you’re a part of me. Always have felt you, like the call of blood deep inside. Think that’s why I couldn’t kill you, y’know? It’d be like staking myself. Then, with Red’s spell… well, I couldn’t fool myself any more. So I ran off to Harmony, trying to live in denial. I didn’t want to think about… about loving you. You went off and wrapped yourself around soldier boy, and somehow I knew you were doing the same as me, trying to ignore the call of your heart. Though him being one of the wankers that stuck this chip in my head, I did wonder if you were doing it just to spite me,” Spike confessed, staring deep into her eyes and twitching his lips in a half smile to remove the sting of his last words. He braced himself for the worst, ready for the fight that would be her inevitable reaction to his speech, but when Buffy didn’t move, he felt hope blossom for the first time in decades.

“I know,” she breathed, awestruck that he would share so much of his emotions with her. Always before, it had been an elaborate game between them, each attempting to keep the other off balance, never letting their guard down for a moment. But this raw honesty was new ground, not just a shift in the rules but a move to a whole new playing field. Ordinarily, a situation like this would have sent her running for the hills, she could admit that much to herself. She glanced across the clearing at the being she’d fallen head over heels for, and then looked up into the vampire’s crystal blue eyes.

“I felt that way too, although it wasn’t until I saw you when you came back that first time that I realised what it might mean. Up until you fought with me and Angel in the shop, I figured I was just hyper aware of you as a safety mechanism, but when you did your little speech about love…. Then you left again, and I was all caught up in Faith and the Mayor, and afterwards, I could barely function with Angel gone. I survived, thought I’d dealt, and suddenly you came back, and it scared me. It scared me because I know how much it hurts when things don’t work out, when you want someone that much….. Will’s spell really did a number on me, reminding me of how intense it can be, and I just ran. I’m really good at that,” she half-joked, looking at her shoes. Spike lifted her chin with one hand, forcing her to look at him once more.

“So why tell me now?” he asked. He knew he was pushing, but even as he wanted to go easy on her, he couldn’t help himself. He wanted desperately to break through the barriers she’d placed between her head and her heart, and prove to her both would be safe in his keeping. And yes, he wanted to drag her into the forest and make her utterly and completely his, but right now his libido was not the main priority.

Buffy shrugged, lowering her eyes.

“I’m not sure. Maybe because I’m in love and happy, and that makes me feel safe enough to be honest. Maybe because I need to tell you so that I can enjoy what I have right now. But probably because I know you’ll understand why I can tell you right now what I couldn’t before. Oh, god, I don’t know why I’m telling you! I just know that I hear you saying all this stuff, and it makes me want to be brave and honest right back,” she murmured, her rambling tailing into silence.

Spike could scarcely believe his ears. Finally, she’d admitted their connection to herself and to him, and his elation was unparalleled. It was all he could do not to snatch her to him, kiss her soundly and never let her go, but there was still the business of the soldier boy to deal with. The unnerving little sprite, Robin, had assured him that Buffy would remember everything of the evening’s events once the love spell was lifted, and Spike was certainly not going to let her back out of this little chat later. He bent closer, his voice low,

“How about a kiss goodbye then, love? For old time’s sake?”

Buffy gulped, and the vampire heard her pulse accelerate, wishing he knew if it was from excitement or just plain discomfort. He wished all the harder as she nodded and raised her face to his, her tongue moistening her lips in preparation. Slowly, prolonging the moment for as long as he could, he dipped his head, not closing his eyes until the satin of her mouth was but a glimmer away. Then there was nothing but pure sensation, the world around him paling into shadow as he revelled in the movement of her warm lips against his own. Soft, sweet and willing, her lips pressed against his like a promise of a more fulfilling act, a prelude that ached to be repeated and echoed time and again as a haunting refrain. His arms curved around her of their own accord, tightening to bring Buffy flush against his body, eliciting a murmur of approval and longing from them both as she reciprocated by sliding her fingers into his hair. Both taking advantage of the synchronised moans, the tips of their tongues met and teased lightly, flickering wetness between them.

“What the hell are you doing?” snarled Riley, grabbing a blond in each meaty hand and prising the two apart, his fury lending him unnecessary strength. Buffy went flying when the temporary chaos demon released her and she landed with an exclamation of pain in a crumpled heap. Spike sneered at the erstwhile soldier as he hung from one outstretched arm.

“Well look who’s gone and got himself an extreme makeover! Maybe you should have watched what your mates were feeding you as well as us demons, eh? Still, you have to be glad it didn’t stunt your growth, I guess,” he laughed disparagingly. Riley’s control, already slipping, careened into freefall. He roared, swinging his free hand in an overhead sweep designed to wipe that smug grin from the vampire’s face, only to find his wrist caught at the last by Spike’s hand. An instant later, the blond’s boot connected with Riley’s stomach, making the boy double over and releasing his grip on Spike’s throat, which in turn sent the smaller man tumbling to the ground. With lithe grace, Spike leaped to his feet, gaining some distance and waiting for Riley to recover.

“You have no business touching her, you disgusting vampire,” the boy wheezed, rage sizzling in the glare he focused on the blond.

“Look who’s talking,” came the retort.

“I’m not a demon! It’s just some spell, or something. Buffy knows who I am, and more importantly, what I am,” spat Riley, standing upright and closing in on Spike.

“So you think that what you are is more important than who you are, do you?” The clear female voice rang through the air, giving both men pause. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned, what you are is determined by circumstance. Who you are is all about personal choice, and frankly, your choices have sucked, Riley,” Buffy continued, circling around to stand by Spike’s side. The vampire exulted – Robin had finally done something right, removing the love charm while the Slayer was stunned and letting her get a really good look at the creature she’d been towing around.

“How can you say that? How can you stand next to an evil thing like him and say that to me?” Riley demanded, incredulous.

“Because what/i> I am is the Slayer, Riley. But you don’t have a clue who I am, and I don’t think you’ve ever given a damn. You captured Spike, experimented on him and god alone knows how many others, including Oz, and you still call Spike evil. He’s saved the world twice, Riley. He’s saved my life, and my friends’ lives, several times. He made choices to do those things, even before the government decided to tamper with him, and all the time you just blindly follow orders because it means not making up your own mind. You’re not responsible or righteous – you’re blind and hypocritical. I don’t know what happened tonight, but believe me when I say I do not love you. I don’t even like you most of the time. You’re boring, overbearing and bigoted. Stay the hell away from me, my friends and Spike, Riley. I know who the bad guys are – I might have been confused for a while, but finally everything is crystal clear. If the Initiative were good guys, you wouldn’t be afraid to go back to them and explain why you look like that,” she finished, and the blond vampire by her side honestly thought she had never looked so radiant. Determination and defiance glowed like an aura around her, and her impassioned words left him in no doubt that she remembered her earlier admissions.

Riley lifted a hand to his antlers, opened his mouth as if to speak, but then turned and crashed into the forest.

Robin Goodfellow didn’t know whether to applaud or simply grin – the scene he’d watched below him restored his faith in the mortal realm, and reminded him that nobility dwelt in the hearts of some of these lower beings still. Truthfully, he had wondered what the vampire, his substitute Oberon, was hoping for when he intruded on the odd couple, but Spike had handled the whole encounter with nimble cunning. And never had he seen his own queen Titania so regal as the Slayer. Maybe there was more to this plane than easily led puppets.

Spike hesitatingly reached out his hand to stroke Buffy’s golden hair, feeling her trembling in the aftermath of the confrontation with Riley.

“Buffy?” He pitched his voice low, not wanting to startle her, and she blinked, almost as though she had forgotten his presence, then breathed out hard.

“Wow,” she said, as though to herself. “Guess that whole sharing and honesty vibe from earlier really kicked in, huh?” She giggled a little sheepishly, blushing, looking everywhere but at the vampire standing so close.

“Well, as break-ups go, I think that one ranks up there with the best of ’em, pet,” he tried to reassure her. “Thank you,” he added.

“What for?” Buffy was confused.

“For what you said to him. About choices. About the difference between what and who someone is. And for before, when you told me how you feel,” he looked directly at her as he spoke and saw the widening of her eyes. Buffy tried to move away, but his other hand came up to cup her arm, holding her in place.

“It’s alright, pet. Hell, it’s a bleeding sight better than alright! Buffy, I love you, and I want you to feel you’re able to love me. We’ve both been a bit thick-headed about how things are between us, but we can do this. I want to try. I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I can promise I will never leave you, sweetheart. Not in a million years. And it’s not like I can hurt anyone now, is it? And we don’t have that problem of the yo-yo soul – ” His babbling was abruptly silenced by the Slayer’s mouth once again locking with his own in a kiss which would have robbed him of his breath if he’d had any. The thought crossed his mind that she literally breathed life back into his body, a gift so precious he knew he didn’t deserve it. But she was here, in his arms, kissing him as though it was her sole reason for existence, and who was he to argue with a lady?

Robin decided that while watching the reconciled lovers’ reunion might prove amusing, the pair had earned their privacy. The four humans in the clearing were in the thrall of enchanted slumber, and wouldn’t wake until the sun rose, which was about an hour away if he was any judge. Watching the progress of the still bespelled boy might be entertaining, however, and the puck vanished from sight.

Spike and Buffy’s embrace deepened in the clearing, and before he knew it, the vampire realised he was being pulled gently but insistently to the central circle, towards the blanket prepared for the witches’ ceremony.

“Love, not that I’m complaining, but what are you doing?” He broke the kiss with an effort of will, lifting his head to search her expressive eyes and seeing a myriad of vibrant emotions held within.

“We’ve waited long enough, don’t you think? I can’t bear it, Spike – I can’t bear not being with you for a second longer. I’ve fought it, resisted it, tried to forget about it and move on, and I can’t. I want you, and I don’t want to take the chance that we’ll forget about all of this in the morning. I want to make this connection we have real, here and now,” Buffy pleaded with him to understand. She was the Slayer – capturing the moment was all she had, because she never knew how many moments there might be. The blond vampire lifted his hand, running one finger along her trembling lower lip as he chuckled.

“Like I’d turn that offer down, pet,” his voice was dark and heated, matched by the smouldering look in his eyes. Buffy released a breath she hadn’t been conscious of holding, the ache around her heart easing somewhat, and the fear pervading her stomach receded. She’d been so worried that he wouldn’t want her after everything that had passed between them – and after all, not wanting her seemed to be a theme for the men in her life. But he was here, and he did want her, and he loved her. She knew with absolute certainty that the game they’d been playing for years was finally drawing to a conclusion and they were on the verge of something wondrous.

Suddenly shy, Buffy turned and gracefully stepped into the circle of unlit candles, half sitting, half lying on the blanket. She watched with fascination as an idea seemed to strike the vampire, and he moved around her, flicking his Zippo and lighting each of the candles. He looked bashful as she quirked one eyebrow at him.

“Just setting the mood a bit,” he mumbled.

“It’s beautiful, Spike. Thank you. Now, get over here, will you?” She finished with a pout, not wanting their time together spoiled by the memory of their previous treatment of each other.

Spike shrugged out of his duster before joining her in the circle, and Buffy was once again amazed by how his movements were always so lithe and liquid, one long, unbroken dance to music just beyond hearing. The flickering light caught all the planes and angles of his face, and she had never seen him more beautiful than right now. Sprawling next to her, he ran one flat palm along her face and body, less than an inch above the skin yet not touching her. His hand tingled even as his mind marvelled at the bounty almost within his grasp.

‘Almost?’ he thought to himself. ‘Bugger that!’ And he wrapped his arm around her, his hands possessive, needy, exploratory, sliding between skin and fabric to touch the incredible woman beside him. Buffy moaned softly, shuddering, his touch bringing goosebumps to her flesh that had little to do with cold, and her own fingers slid underneath his shirt, around his back, and under his t-shirt. His skin was cool and soft, the perfect complement to the muscles so hard and lean underneath. The pair kissed, delicately at first until their rising hunger consumed them, turning the soft touches into brutal urgency. Spike’s hand unhooked her bra and slide underneath the flimsy material to cup Buffy’s small breast, a flick of his thumb to the nipple making her back bow from the blanket underneath him.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you, kitten?” He breathed against her mouth, smiling when Buffy’s inarticulate mumble reached his ears. He decided to be merciful, licking and kissing a path down her neck while he lifted her floaty white shirt to her shoulders, pausing only to help her remove it completely before his voracious mouth feasted on the puckered tips of her breasts. Buffy’s moans in response to his devilishly agile tongue spurred him on, and he bit down gently, unable to believe his ears when she groaned in approval.

“Ah, Spike! Oh god yes…harder,” she panted, her hands clutching at his shoulders and in his hair, pressing her small mounds into his face.

‘Looks like she’s not averse to a spot of biting, then,’ he smirked, slightly astonished. He’d have thought a Slayer would be wired to attack at the feel of a vampire’s teeth on her, but then again, Buffy had never been like any other Slayer. As the girl pushed herself to him, he obliged, clamping harder with blunt human teeth at first, then so very gradually allowing his fangs to emerge and place delicious, deadly pressure against her sensitised skin. At the first prickle of razor-sharp ivory to her nerve endings, Buffy spasmed, jac-knifing from the ground as her orgasm blew through her. Unprepared for the reaction, Spike was unable to pull away and his teeth were driven into her flesh. The tang of blood on his tongue shocked him, drove him crazy, but as he tried to withdraw, Buffy grabbed him tighter.

“Don’t!” her voice begged him. “Spike….drink,” she whimpered, overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through her system. The vampire tried again to pull away, certain that the girl couldn’t know what she was asking of him, but her implacable strength refused to release him.

“Do it, Spike,” an inhuman growl ripped from Buffy’s throat. An instinctive growl from Spike answered her, and he complied, throwing caution to the wind and sating one of his lusts for the beauty under him. Even as his fangs delved once more into her succulent breast, his fingers burrowed under her skirt, between her legs, and slid inside her panties. She was dripping wet and more than ready for him, and he knew he couldn’t hold on any longer. Tearing at his jeans as he suckled the blood from his lover’s body, he freed his aching erection and sheathed himself within her, the sudden fierce joining ripping yells of pleasure and fulfilment from them both.

Spike held himself still for one long moment, taking a draw of Buffy’s lifeblood and hearing her whimper, even as her sex pulsed around him. There. That was the rhythm he needed – the pounding of her heart and her wet centre in a harmonised beat, and now he’d caught it, he could move with her. Momentarily retreating from her moist heat, he paused then surged forward, driving them together with every ounce of strength he possessed, his tenderness overridden by a savage need. Buffy’s wordless gasps of encouragement increased to drawn out cries of ecstasy with every stroke he took, and the forceful massage around his length that was close to liquefying his spine told him she was close. Which suited him fine, because he honestly didn’t know how long he could restrain himself.

Oh, but she was perfect in her passion: panting, delirious, taut and toned, and capable of taking everything he had to give. They were so perfectly matched; he couldn’t believe he had been so oblivious to their mutual attraction for so long. Buffy’s breath hitched, and he knew the time was near when they would be seamlessly moulded, an ourobouros of pleasure, love, joy, and all the darkness that made those virtues shine the brighter

“Spike! I’m…ohhh…so nearly…there. I need you to bite me again. Over the… other mark,” Buffy urged, the fingertips she embedded in his shoulder her sole remaining anchor to reality, and Spike raised his head, sapphire penetrating the hazel fog of her gaze. He knew what she was asking, no, begging for, and for a moment it completely threw him.

“Buffy, love. Are you sure?”

She nodded frantically, moisture pooling in her eyes as she bit her lip and smiled.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything. Please, Spike…I don’t want to hold on to that any longer. Make me yours, help me let go,” the woman in his arms half-sobbed as she writhed and strained against him in her quest for blissful absolution.

The lean, muscled vampire above hesitated for seconds more, studying Buffy’s face as though he could read her heart and soul with those piercing and expressive azure orbs. The triumphant roar of his demon merged with the astonishment of his human psyche as he realised the woman he had fought, lusted for and admired was truly ready to cast off the remnants of her broken heart and allow their love to rise from the ashes. He lowered his fangs to her neck, plunging through the skin and releasing the fire to baptise them both.

Buffy gasped at the fleeting pain before shuddering with the first tremors of her orgasm, her hands clutching Spike to her in a fierce grip, and Spike growled against her neck when he felt her spasming around his shaft. The last thread of his control snapped and he lunged into Buffy’s core, sheathing himself completely and explosively. Tearing his mouth from her flesh, he screamed his pleasure into the night before incanting long-forgotten words over their joined bodies.

“I claim thee as my own, my mate and equal, and offer the blood and honour of Aurelius to seal my love. Until darkness swallows the stars, thou art mine!”

Spike’s formal mutterings barely registered with Buffy, who was caught in the throes of a searing climax. Spike’s fangs and cock within her had finally untangled the knot of self-doubt and isolation created by her romantic failures, and the all-consuming ecstasy she was experiencing was augmented by the emotions too long denied. Delirium claimed her, the fever of passion stealing her reason and leaving her only with instincts – and those instincts drove her teeth into Spike’s throat, splitting the pale skin and freeing the dark, viscous fluid beneath. The vampire grimaced at the ferocity of the sensation, feeling his desire renewed and eager deep within his lover. Buffy suckled briefly from the wound, her sex still pulsing hotly around Spike, then threw her head back, panting for breath. She met Spike’s eyes, his blood on her lips, and somehow, she knew what she must say.

“I accept your gift of blood, childe of Aurelius, and acknowledge, accept and return your claim. As mate and equal, until the moon is but dust, I am yours to love as thou art mine,” her husky voice confirmed, before her scarlet stained mouth was covered by his own, each tasting the other’s lifeblood as their tongues entwined.

A sudden flare of light surrounded them, driving the pair apart in apprehension. The flames of the candles marking the handfasting circle had leapt to three feet, creating a brief barrier of white before expanding in a sparkling rush to bathe the whole clearing just as Spike and Buffy collapsed, unconscious.


Robin Goodfellow’s hackles rose the moment that Spike’s elongated canines penetrated the Slayer’s jugular several miles away. Fate and destiny had clearly taken a hand in the night’s events, and as with all fey, he could not help but sense the gathering magical forces. Baiting and tormenting the bespelled human had proved an entertaining diversion, but the draw of the power in the woods was too strong to resist, so with a sigh and no small amount of trepidation, he slipped through the fabric of reality and back to the clearing.

The scrawny fairy cloaked his presence from the pair, although truthfully, he needn’t have bothered, so oblivious were they to all but each other. A crackling tension began to build at the base of his spine, the otherwordly energy gathering in the clearing racing along his nervous system and creating a feeling of extreme discomfort. The vampire, Robin’s erstwhile Oberon, spoke mystical phrases with blood on his lips in a consecrated sacred circle and the forces centred on the couple twisted tighter around them. Robin was panting in his effort to prevent the magic from tearing him apart – no easy task given glamour ran through his veins and he was a creature of spells and artifice. He felt as though he was going insane, his wits evaporating on the rising tide of excruciating pain that bowed his back and brought him retching to his knees. Somewhere, through the cacophony of clashing forces that rang in his elongated skull, the puck heard the breathtaking blonde woman give voice to the completion of the spell and his long, many jointed fingers gripped his head in desperation. Only he heard the thunderclap of prophecy fulfilled, seconds before the expanding shockwave slammed into him, sending him tumbling. The ethereal power contracted, coiling back towards the circle to wrap around the rapturous lovers, binding them together beyond the handfasting intended by the young witches. Coloured light streamed through the air, coalescing into a glowing sphere and settling upon them. Robin scrambled to his feet as the glare dimmed, dumbstruck for the first time in centuries.

Shaking the residual magic from his skin like a damp cat, he sighed. The happy ending he’d planned, and the chaos it would bring in its wake, had been hijacked by the Powers That Be, and he was left with four mortals and two semi-naked supernatural creatures to transport before dawn arrived to erase his enchantment. The universe was obviously trying to make an honest puck of him after all, he thought morosely, brightening moments later when he remembered there was still the finale to come.


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