Enthralled
by Spike_spetslayer

A/N:  Thank you so very much to Lisa for the beta--Thank you to Joss (bows low) for the incredibly rich characters that live in his world.  Nothing owned by me, all by Joss and his drones



Enthralled

One


    Buffy’s mind was a whirlwind of confused and contradictory thoughts.

    She looked across the pool table at her opponent.  Her enemy.  Her nemesis.  Her own personal pain-in-the-ass.  Spike.  His blond hair glinted in the bright lights over the pool table, contrasting sharply with the black clothes he wore, the black leather duster that was as much a part of him as his skin.  She bit her lip as she watched him line up another shot, then snapped back to reality when she realized what he was saying to her.

    “You got off on it,” she said, disgusted.  Then another voice invaded her memory.  Faith.  Faith had said that slaying made her hungry and horny.  She had been surprised shocked even, that it didn’t have the same effect on Buffy.  She never thought twice about it since. 

    “I suppose you don’t,” he said, and she stopped in her tracks.  All the hunts, all the stakings and slayage, all the demons… all the demons… she never felt…satisfied afterwards. 

    “No,” she mouthed, as he circled the pool table.  The blood pounded in her ears, her heartbeat fluttering in her chest as he slipped closer to her, still talking.  Shock paralyzed her as she felt him whisper into the curve of her ear, “One.  Good.  Day.”  The feeling of his breath on her ear, her neck, moving wisps of her hair sent a thrill down her spine.  The puzzling reaction of her body drowned out anything they were saying to one another, but he quickly regained her attention when he poked her side.  She gasped in pain, and grabbed her injury, satisfied somehow that he was writhing with a migraine.

    They went into the alley, then, conscious of the myriad of eyes watching them.  “So, the second one, in New York.  How did you kill her?”

    They played at sparring as he spoke.  Punches thrown and easily dodged, throws and kicks that seemed too easy.  When she heard him call it a dance, she outwardly scoffed, but in her head, and her heart, she knew he was right.  They were dancing.  Every time they met, every time they tangled from the very first time in the school, they did this…dance…and she realized, in that moment, exactly what they were dancing around.

    They weren’t dancing a dance of death.  There was no hunting in his posture, no slaying in hers.  Her body thrummed with adrenaline, and she felt arousal coursing through her entire nervous system, centering on one spot throbbing in the center of her groin.

    No, her mind screamed at her.  Vampire.  Vampires can’t love.  Only sex and death, that was their thrill.  Not love.  Not desire. 

    She looked down at him where he kneeled in front of her.  She couldn’t tear her eyes from his face, his eyes boring holes into her. 

    “I wonder if you’ll like it as much as she did,” he said.

    But to whom was he referring?  Had he done this dance, this mating ritual, with someone else?  A hot spiral of jealousy curled in her gut, and she mentally stamped it out.  She was not jealous of the bloodsucking fiend and his sluts. 

    He taunted her, daring her to hit him.  Her hands fisted at her sides, teeth gritted.  She nearly did hit him, then, but for some reason, held back.  Her hands relaxed of their own accord, lips parted.
   
    “Give it me good, Buffy.  Come on, Slayer.”  He moved toward her, closing the distance between them.

    He touched her, took her arms, and she instinctively knew that he wasn’t closing in for a bite.  She was horrified by her desire for him to complete the distance, and that horror reflected in her eyes.  She knew, in her gut, that if he kissed her, she would be lost—completely undone.

    She did the only thing she knew to do to stop him.  Kicked him away like a dog, and said, “You’re beneath me.”

    She saw the hurt fill his face, flooding those expressive blue eyes with pain.  She turned and walked quickly away to keep herself from the apology that leaped into her mind.  That look, and his words, haunted her the entire way home.

*

    You’re beneath me.

    The words echoed in his mind.  He looked at the money scattered around him.  So, that’s all he was to her.  All this time, all the hopes he’d harbored….  Cold tears coursed down his cheeks, his heart breaking at her coarse rejection, and instead of giving in to the pain, he channeled it into his demon.  His demon roared within him, fed by his pain and anger, and he jumped to his feet and turned in the direction of his crypt.  He would show that bitch, once and for all.

*

    Buffy sat on her back porch, her head on her lap, sobbing out her fear and confusion.  She heard a noise, and raised her head, tears shining in the moonlight, to see Spike standing in front of her.  It didn’t even register at first that he was holding a gun.  “What do you want now, Spike?”

    She wasn’t looking at his face, so she didn’t notice his eyes soften at the sight of her.  “What’s wrong?”

    “I don’t want to talk about it.”

    “Can I help?”

    The question, coming from him, shocked her, but less than his actions.  He sat next to her on the deck, and awkwardly began patting her shoulder.

    Strangely, his touch comforted her.  She sat there next to him, pain radiating from her skin, and began to talk in a slow whisper about everything--Joyce’s health, her relationship with Riley, her feelings of academic inadequacy—it all came pouring out of her, into the waiting ear of the one person she thought would revel in her misery, the peroxide blond next to her. 

    As her litany grew longer, she shifted uncomfortably, unconsciously moving closer to the source of her comfort.  Spike’s arm snaked around her shoulders, and she leaned against the strength of his muscled body, drained of any strength of her own.  She rested her head against his shoulder, exhausted and spent, and they sat together quietly, crickets chirruping around them in the cool California night.

    Spike started to speak several times, but swallowed the words before they could escape.  He was beneath her—she had said it herself.  She didn’t want the opinion of a nothing, a nobody such as he. 

    She suddenly thought of the horrible things that she had said to him outside the Bronze in the alley.  “Spike?” she said, touching his chest.  “I’m…sorry…about…outside the Bronze….”  She trailed off, knowing she needed to apologize, but unsure of what she was apologizing for.
   
    “F’get it, pet.  ‘S only words—they don’t kill you.”

    “No, Spike.  They can kill you.  Only, a little bit at a time.”  She sat upright, and turned to face him, her knees pressed against his.  “I was deliberately cruel, and nobody deserves that kind of treatment, not even you.  I’m sorry.”
   
    He looked down at her, then quickly away.  “Okay, pet.  No need to get your knickers in a twist.”

    “And that thing you were saying?  About the dance?  I think that I understand what you meant.”
   
    He stared at the top of her head while she studied her twisting fingers in her lap.  “I…I thought about it on the way home.  We do dance, you and I.  In a lot of ways.  We always have, haven’t we?”

    His mind reeled at her words.  She had thought about him?  She knew they danced?  Did she realize exactly what they danced around?  He doubted it, in his heart, but he went ahead and decided to go deeper into the breech.  “Mmm….  Well, yeah, I ‘spose you’re right ‘bout that, Slayer.”
   
    “You weren’t going to bite me, in the alley.  You were going to kiss me, weren’t you?”

    He froze next to her, utterly still as only a master vampire could be.  She looked up at him, hazel eyes shining with starlight and tears, open and vulnerable, and said again, “You were going to kiss me.  Weren’t you, Spike?”

He tried to shy away, and found that he was pinned by her penetrating gaze, and couldn’t.  “Yes, pet, I was.”

    Her next words rattled him to the core.  “Do you still want to kiss me, Spike?”
   
    She watched the muscle move in his jaw, unsure of his unsaid answer.  He raked his free hand through his hair, and gritted out, “Yes.  God help me, yes, Buffy.  I still want to kiss you.”
   
    “Then, why aren’t you?”

Much thanks to Joss and his minions.  He is the god of the Buffyverse.
All my gratitude for the reviews.  Even more than that to Lisa, for the beta. 


Enthralled

Chapter Two

He looked down at her, at them.  She was leaning against him, his arm around her shoulders, her face so close to his that he could smell her shampoo.  He was touching her.  Touching her, and not fighting.  No punching or kicking.  No resistance.  He couldn’t begin to comprehend what was happening here, it had such a dream-like quality to it, and now she was asking him why he wasn’t kissing her?  Something so low he was beneath her?  He shouldn’t even be soiling her with his touch.

    She looked around, everywhere but him, disappointed that he hadn’t answered.  “Here we are, in the dark under the moon, crickets chirping and stars shining.  You have your arm around me, holding me close.  I’m not running, or moving away.  We aren’t fighting.  So, that isn’t even normal, but so not the point.  You have the perfect setting for a kiss, so not a back alley behind a bar.  Quiet, private, romantic.  So, why aren’t you trying to kiss me now?”

    “I…I couldn’t take advantage….  Not the…. Buffy….”

    “Not the dance, huh?”

    She moved away slightly, and he gripped her upper arms, turning her to face him.  “Buffy…Slayer…do you know what you’re saying?”

    She looked embarrassed.  “Yeah, well…it’s not like we haven’t kissed before.  Last year….”

    “Last year was Willow’s spell.  It wasn’t real.  Not real.”

    “It felt real enough, when it was happening.”  She dodged his glance, looking at her hands where they lay in her lap, so close to his thigh…so close….  “It felt real enough.  And still seems real enough…I’ve thought about it enough in the last year.”  She gave in to impulse, and laid her hand on his thigh.  “Spike….”

    “Slayer, you don’t know what you’re asking.  It won’t stop with a couple of kisses.”

    “I know.”  She brought her other hand up, caressing his sculpted cheek.  “Maybe I don’t want it to stop there.  Maybe…maybe I want more this time….” she whispered, then leaned forward to barely touch her lips to his. 

    He could taste her—the soft vanilla of her favorite perfume, the soda she’d drank at the Bronze, her own unique scent, the copper tang of blood underneath it all—and his grip tightened on her arms.  He twisted without breaking the kiss, pulling her onto his lap and closing his arms around her to encircle her, to keep her from getting away.  She gripped the front of his duster for balance, then slipped one arm underneath it around his back, feeling the tight muscles bunched under his tee shirt.  She buried her other hand in his hair, fingering curls that he had raked loose with his own hand.

    She felt her body begin to throb, and knew that he could feel it too.  One hand stole down her back to her hip as he tried to keep her still in his lap.  She could feel his excitement building, felt the bulge growing in his jeans again her hip.  Impulsively, she slid her tongue into his mouth, tasting the beer and tobacco and something that was him alone, his essence, which made her throb harder and begin to squirm in earnest as it erupted through her nerves in a flashfire of sensation.

    Tearing her mouth from his, she kissed her way across his jawline to the lobe of his ear.  She nipped at the lobe, then sucked it into her mouth, her breath coming in short pants as she inhaled his scent.

    Spike threw his head back and hissed between his gritted teeth.  Did she know what she was doing to him, making him feel?  He doubted it, he did.  He knew he was holding her too hard, would leave a mark, it would, but God, he couldn’t stand it…her mouth on his ear, her breath sending shivers over his skin, her scent everywhere around him….
   
    “Spike,” she whispered, and a shiver ran down his spine.  “Spike, do you want me?”

    “Buffy,” he groaned.  “Are you playing me?”

    “Just answer the question, Spike.  Do you want me?”

    He closed his eyes, fighting the good fight internally, and losing.  He couldn’t, wouldn’t hide from her, not anymore.  He was too tired of fighting.  Tired of running away from this, these feelings that kept him here in Sunnyhell and close to her.  “Yes, Buffy, I want you.  Want you….”

    “Then take me, Spike.  Here is your once-in-a-lifetime chance at the Slayer.”

    His eyes flew open, realizing what she said.  “What?  Here?  Now?  In your backyard?”

    “Does it really matter where?”  She stood, and led him to the darkest corner of the yard, underneath a weeping willow tree.  Curtained by the drooping branches, she turned to him.  “Is this any better?”

    “It’s a start.”  He took off his duster and laid it on the grass, leather side down.  Knowing the gesture for what it was, she sat down and reclined, holding out her arms to the man standing nervously above her.  He kneeled next to her, and she reached out her hands to cup his face between them. 

    “I’m tired of fighting this, Spike,” she said, eerily echoing his own thoughts.  “I’ve fought this for a year, and I refuse to waste my time and energy fighting something that we obviously both want.  Not anymore.  Life is too short.  Especially mine,” she said wryly.  She sat up, and nibbled on his full lower lip.  “Aren’t you tired of fighting it?”

    “You’re hurt…” he said, panicking.

    “I’m already healing.”

    “And upset…”

    “This will make me feel a lot better, Spike.”

    “And you have a boyfriend…”

    “Hello?  Were you listening?  Something missing there.”

    “What if I hurt you?”

    “You can’t, remember?”  She huffed, and sat up all the way.  “Spike, why are you trying to think up excuses not to fuck me?”

    His head snapped up, shocked at her use of the f-word.  He reached for her hands, and gripped them tightly between his.  “Buffy—once we do this, it changes everything.  There is no going back.”

    “I know.”  She pulled her hands away, and took off her jacket.  He watched it slide off her shoulders, then she tossed it aside.  Her boots followed soon after, then her socks.  “Maybe…maybe I don’t want it to go back.  Maybe I want things to change.”

    Her face was hidden in deep shadow, and even with his vampire sight, he couldn’t distinguish her features.  She held her arms out to him again, and whispered, “Please, Spike.  Don’t make me beg you.”

    He came to her willingly, in part because of his own need, and to fulfill hers.  He knew she was aroused; her scent wafted around him, in his nostrils, and he detected the subtle change.  He could smell it on her skin.  “Buffy,” he started, about to confess his feelings to her, but she forestalled him, placing a finger across his lips.

    “No more talk, Spike.  Lots more action.”  She pulled his head down to her, and their mouths crashed together in a violently passionate kiss, full of teeth and tongue.

    She pulled his tee shirt out of his pants so she could touch his skin.  She ran her palms up under his shirt and across the muscles of his back, pulling him on top of her.  His erection landed exactly where it should, or would once they had undressed.  Buffy ground her hips against his, craving friction, and he groaned against her mouth.

    “Keep that up too long, pet, and we’ll never get any further,” he growled against her neck. 

    “Oh, yes we will.”  She reached between them to loosen his belt, then unzip his pants.  Reaching inside, she was happily surprised to find him bare beneath his jeans.  Her fingertips grazed his balls as she palmed the underside of his cock.  He felt bigger than she was used to, and she had a sudden urge to see what she held in her hand.

    She pushed him onto his back, and reached inside his fly to examine him more closely.  Her small hand barely encircled its fullness, and it twitched in her grasp when she tightened her grip.  She only intended to look, but gave in to other urges when she bent down to kiss the smooth, velvety head.  She heard Spike gasp aloud above her, prodding her to slide her lips over the tip of his cock, saliva flooding her mouth as she swallowed him down.

    Her mouth was so hot, it was setting his cock on fire, and it was all he could do to keep from shouting aloud.  He growled instead, and dragged her mouth off his cock and against his.  She tore at his clothes, overcome by the need to feel his cool skin against her heated flesh.  She felt like she was burning up from the inside, she was so hot.  He slowly unzipped her shirt in the back, then drew it down her arms and over her head.  The cool air raised gooseflesh on her exposed skin, but she didn’t notice.  Her only thought left was quenching the fire in her belly, feeling his long, smooth coolness inside her, filling her….

    He unzipped her pants, and pushed them down her hips and over the curve of her ass.  She kicked out of them, then ripped her own thong off of her to free her completely of all barriers.  He arched his own hips to push his own jeans down, and found himself engulfed in her mouth again.  Kicking his pants to the side, he pulled her on top of him, face to face, and reached between them.  His cock was poised at the entrance to the heated, dripping center of her, but he hesitated a shade too long, uncertain….

    Buffy wasn’t uncertain at all.  She raised her hips, and sat down abruptly, driving his cock deep within her to the hilt.  She gasped aloud at the sensation of him filling her, touching places deep inside that no one had ever touched.  She flexed her muscles, and felt him arch into her, heard his gasp for air.  He put his hands on her hips to steady her, and she used them as leverage to ride him, gliding over his sensitive skin smoothly.  If her mouth was hot, her quim was hotter, and Spike felt like he was melting into her with every movement.

    She sat back on him, moving only her inner muscles in a ripple over his cock as she raked her nails over his nipples.  “Do you like that, Spike?”

    “Oh, God, Buffy, the things you do….”

    “Not even close to done yet, Spike.”  She stretched out against his full length, locked her legs around his, and twisted, and suddenly he was on top of her.  “Fuck me, Spike.  Make me come.  But I’ll warn you ahead of time—I’m a screamer.”
   
    “I’ll just have to think of something, then, won’t I, to keep you from waking the neighbors.”

    She arched her hips against him, and he raised himself on his elbows, positioning himself better.  He glided in and out of her slowly, as deep as he could reach.  She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he slid in even deeper, to the soft, unyielding core of her.  She bit her lip to stifle a moan at the painful pleasure of it. 

    “More, Spike.  Harder.  Faster,” she gasped, and he obliged.  He buried his face in her neck, sucking the tender skin above the pulse pounding wildly under his tongue.  He licked her heated skin down to the tip of one of her breasts, and captured the nipple between his lips, electrifying her senses.  She dug her nails into his scalp, holding his head there as he ravaged first one breast, then the other. 

    “Spike…I….”

    He could feel her building to her peak, and raised his head.  “Buffy…what do you need from me, love?”

    She tossed her head, her mind whirling.  Words leaped unbidden from her lips.  “Bite me, Spike.”

    He pulled back, physically and mentally.  “You want me to vamp?  Now?”

    “No—yes—I don’t know.  Just bite me—you don’t have to draw blood….”

    He bent his head, biting and sucking tender skin, then he felt her body begin to coil tensely beneath him.  He raised his head to watch her face.  Her lips were drawn against gritted teeth, her eyes closed, brow furrowed.  He touched her face.  “Open your eyes, Buffy.  See me.  See us.”

    She obeyed, and hazel eyes crashed into a blue so deep she felt like she was drowning.  “Don’t stop, Spike.  Please don’t stop.”

    She looked down to where their bodies joined, crashed together.  “Harder, love.  You won’t hurt me.  Slayer, remember?  We can take a lot….”

    “Take this, then.”  He brought his mouth down in a punishing kiss, grinding her lips against her teeth.  It split under the pressure, and they both tasted the tang of copper as blood smeared their mouths.  Spike found a renewed energy, and took Buffy at her word as he began pounding his pelvis against hers, his cock still growing with excitement as he tasted her blood in his mouth and felt her heartbeat on his tongue, stretching her wide and fucking her deep.  She dug her nails into his tight ass, spurring him on as she arched up to meet his every thrust.

    He knew she still was lacking, still needed…something.  Something to drive her over the top.  Looking down, he saw the corded muscles in her shoulder, her neck, and he licked the salt from her skin as she tossed her head, then clamped his normal teeth onto the muscles, slowly increasing the pressure with every thrust of his hips.

    “God…Spike…yes!  Fuck me, Spike…fuck me hard….”  With that, her body exploded.  She bucked and kicked and groaned.  She raked her nails down his back and across his ass, then found her own place to chew on.  It just happened to be his siring scar.  She gripped it in her teeth, worried it with her tongue, and his demon roared inside him.  He felt Buffy scream against his neck, and tore his mouth off her neck to kiss her and swallow the screams with his lips.  Her lip still seeped blood, and it opened again, pouring into his mouth.  He lapped at her mouth hungrily, driving his tongue deep into her throat and tongue-fucking her mouth to taste all of her.  She bit it, chewed it, sucked it hard, and drove him past the point of reason.  He felt her coming again, giving as good as she got, her slick inner muscles gripping him like a fist, and he erupted, groaning her name against her mouth, her neck, her throat.
   
    He stilled, his head still buried in her hair, her blood sweet on his mouth, and she held him to her, still inside her.  She stroked his curls, pushing them back from his forehead to kiss where they had lain.  “Spike?”

    “Mmm?  Pet?”
   
    “Please…tell me…this wasn’t a…one night stand, was it?”


Joss owns them--I just put them in the nastiest positions!
Thank you, Lisa--again.

Enthralled

Chapter Three

He leaned up on one elbow to look down into her face.  He cursed Angel, Riley, and that other wanker she’d shagged last year, mentally vowing to beat them all to a pulp just because they had put that look in her eyes.  That look of…uncertainty.  Loss.  Worthlessness.  He stroked her cheek, pushing stray hair from her eyes, and said, “God, I hope not.  But, we’ll kill each other if we do it too much.”

    “Mmm—die happy.”  She snuggled under him, and he felt the beginning of stirrings in his groin.  He groaned aloud, and worry flitted across Buffy’s face.  “Did I hurt you?”  She said, running her fingers over scratches and bite marks, making his cock twitch inside her and his nerve endings sing.

    “Buffy,” he said, capturing her hand.  “Did I hurt you?”

    She stretched like a cat, but still didn’t release him.  “No.  Not at all.  I might be a little sore tomorrow, but tonight, right now…I feel yummy.  All relax-y and such.”

    She may be all relaxed, but her quim kept getting tighter around his sensitive cock.  “Do you think we should maybe put our clothes back on?”  he said.

    “Inna minute.”  She curled her arms around his neck, snuggled close to him.  “Let me enjoy this.  Our first time.”  Spike heard a promise in that sentence, and stilled, not even breathing.  Buffy pulled him down to her, and kissed him softly.  She gazed at his face, and reached out her hand to trace the knife-edge of his cheek, the hollow beneath it.  “You’re a handsome one, aren’t you, Spike?”  She purred.  “Those eyes, that body, that cock…and your mouth.  I can sometimes tell your mood from your mouth.  Like, whether you’ll be good, or bad.  What you’re thinking.  And your eyes.  They see right through me, don’t they.  Into me.  Is that a vamp thing, or is it just you?”

    He watched her eyes while she mused on his face, afraid to move because it would break the spell she was under.  His mind struggled with the concepts—she was attracted to him, she had thought about him, she knew—although, she didn’t realize what she knew, yet.  “Just me, pet.”

    “Thought so.”  She touched his lip.  “You tasted me.  My blood.”

    Better to face it.  “I did.”

    “It probably tastes different to you than me.  Doesn’t it?”  She saw him hesitate, and she added, “No, please.  Tell me.  I want to know.”  She paused, bit her lip.  “I’m not afraid, Spike.”

    He took a deep breath, then said, “It’s like…fine wine.  Uniquely you.  Buffy.  Slayer.  Vanilla.  Sweet.  All rolled into one.  And more…carries your essence.  Made it even sweeter that it was freely given, didn’t have to bite you to get it.  It was…another way for me to connect with you…during …lovemaking.”

    “Wow.  Didn’t see that one coming.”   He felt her chest press tighter against his as she sighed.  “You made it sound almost…poetic.”

    Must have been the moonlight, he thought to himself, then said aloud, “I’m too heavy.  Dead weight, so to speak,” and moved to lie next to her.  She whimpered when he slipped out of her and seemingly so far away after their close contact.  Squirming closer, she curled up next to him, resting her head on his shoulder.  He reached across her to grasp the edge of his coat, and pulled it over her to keep out the chill night air.

    She inhaled deeply, and he could feel her need.  He looked down at the top of her head.  “What is it, pet?”

    “Can…can we keep this…thing between us quiet, for the time being?”

    “What, you mean not telling the Slayerettes?  Ashamed of being with me, pet?”

    “No, not ashamed.  Exactly.  There are things I’ve got to do.  Break up with Riley, for one.  Tell my mom, and Dawnie.  Tell Giles.”  She pulled a face.  “I can hear the ‘oh dears’ and ‘good Lords’ already.”

    “Wot, you think that you’re the only slayer to ever have a vampire boyfriend?  Think again, pet.  To do it proper like, a slayer has to know her prey.  Know us.  Our motivation, our needs, our urges…sometimes the knowing…goes deeper.  Friends.  Boyfriends.  Bugger, I have even heard tales of a slayer who turned, of her own free will….  Not to mention, I would be your second vampire boyfriend.  Seeing a pattern here, pet?”  He stopped, kicking himself for mentioning Angel on the one hand, and the look on her face on the other hand.

    “Oh.  Well…um….”

    She didn’t voice her fear, but he felt it nonetheless.  He touched her cheek, looked deep into her eyes.  “Buffy, I would never turn you.  Never.  If you believe nothing else I say, believe that.  Bad idea, that one is,” he said, looking away.  “But, by all means, consult with Rupert.  He’ll fill your head, but mind you, you’re not the first, and he knows it.  It isn’t necessarily a good thing, you know, the whole sleeping with the enemy thing, but it happens.”

    “But, Spike, my job…”
   
    “I’m not going to do anything that warrants slaying me, Buffy.  I can even help.  I have before.  And you could use the assistance with the new baddie in town….”

    “I know.”  She smiled.  “But isn’t it the nature of the Big Bad to be…um…bad?”

    “Didn’t you read the Slayer’s Handbook?”

    “Huh?  Giles said….”

    “Oh, okay.  Rupert again.  The vampire’s nature depends on the strength of the personality.  Every vampire has a demon, but a lot depends on the vampire’s ability to control the demon…and how much of his personality can assert itself.  That’s what makes a master different from a minion.”

    “I see…minions are weak…and masters aren’t.  So, you have this control thingie…uh…under control?”  she finished weakly.

    “I do—now.  Age equals practice.  And there have been times when blending in was an important survival technique.”

    She rested her chin on his chest.  “Like when?”

    “Well, there was this one time in France…” he chuckled, then ran his hands over her arms.  “Doesn’t matter, pet.  William has, and can, play nice with the other boys and girls without causing a ruckus.  Have before, can again, if need be.”

    “William.  Spike.  What do you want me to call you?”

    “Whatever you like, pet.  What ever suits your fancy.”

    They talked until the sky began to lighten and Spike realized he needed to leave.  Dressing quickly, he walked her to the edge of the stairs and stood staring down at her, an indescribable look in his eyes.

    “So…uh…will I see you tonight?”  Buffy stammered in the taut silence. 

    “Yes, pet.”  His voice was soothing on her grated nerves.  Why was she so nervous?  He reached out his hand to smooth her hair, and she melted inside.  When he lifted her chin, she looked at him expectantly, and he didn’t disappoint her.  He touched her swollen mouth gently with his lips.  “I’ll see you tonight, I promise.”

    “Good morning, Spike.”

    “Good morning, Buffy.”  He kissed her once more, picked up the forgotten shotgun, and left her.  He looked back once, just after passing through the hedge, and she still stood, watching his back, a look of wonder on her face.  He started to run back to her, to take her again, his hunger for her was so strong, but he wrenched himself away from the sight and her house.

    Last night was a fluke, he thought, as he made his way through the shadows still clinging to the night toward his crypt.  A fluke, and as soon as she realizes what she’s done, she’ll be over to punch my face in again.  He rubbed his stomach, then cupped himself in his palm.  Still, if it was the one time…it was memorable.  Not enough for a lifetime of cold nights.  But it would have to do, if that was all there would ever be.

Thank you Joss, thank you Lisa, Thank you Bloodshedverse

Enthralled

Chapter 4

Buffy opened the back door, and ran face to face with her mother.

    “Buffy Anne Summers!  Have you been out all night?”

    “I was in the back yard, Mom.”

    “All night?  Doing what?”

    “I…I was talking to Spike.”

    “Oh, okay.  How is William—I mean, Spike, these days?  He’s not around much here lately.”

    “He’s more of a night owl, Mom.  What do you mean, been around much lately?  And why do you like him so much, anyway?”

    Her mother smiled.  “He’s sweet, Buffy.  Good-hearted.  Do you know, when you first went to college and weren’t home much, William would stop by from time to time and talk for a while.”

    “Spike?  Here?”  Buffy’s eyes widened over the cup she had raised to her lips. 

    “Not every night, and not in a bad way.  Just…checking in on Dawn and me.  It broke up some of the monotony, you know?  And he’s really quite fascinating.  He was a scholar, Buffy, did you know that?  And he has met the most interesting people in his unlife….”

    Buffy stared in horror at the woman across the counter.  “Mom, vampire, remember?”

    “Yes, Buffy, I remember.  But still, a gentleman.”

    “Mom—what would you think if I said that…that I wanted to date Spike?”

    “Buffy!”  Her mother frowned at her, all good thoughts evaporated.  “You know, I know that William has a chip and can’t hurt you….”
   
    “How did you know that?”

    Her mother ignored her question and continued.  “…but your last relationship with a vampire didn’t end well.  And I told you, William and I talk.  He has some of the most interesting stories….  Anyway, Buffy, you really shouldn’t just jump into any relationship.  And what about Riley?”

    “Riley is history, Mom.  Well, not yet.  But he will be.  History, I mean.  And I’m not jumping into anything, not with Spike.  And plus, I’ve known him a lot longer than I’ve known Riley.  Anyway, Angel and I didn’t end well because of the whole evil Angelus thingie…and Spike helped me with that, remember?  So he’s a good guy.  Right?”

    Her mother patted her hand, and said, “Just be careful, okay?  William is a nice boy, but…”

    “Mom, I will be the care-fullest, okay?  There’s just something there, something about him…I need to find out, what it is, what I feel….”

    “Are you attracted to him, Buffy?  Have you…done anything?”

    “I’ve kissed him,” Buffy admitted, not meeting her mother’s eyes.  “And, when I did, he…moved me.  There’s electricity between us.  I don’t know—it could be something….”

    “Electricity?  That sounds like how your father used to make me feel.”  A secretive smile curved her mother’s lips.  “You have my blessing, Buffy.”

    “What are you blessing?”

    Both women turned to see the pre-teen bopping into the kitchen.  “Nothing,” Buffy said hastily, throwing her mother a warning look she didn’t see, or ignored entirely.

    “Buffy is going to date Spike.”

    “Spike!”  Dawn clapped her hands and squealed, then stopped abruptly.  “What about Riley?”

    “Riley is a done deal, Dawnie.” 

    “Good.  I didn’t like him much, anyway.  Too plastic.”  Dawn grabbed an apple, ignoring her mother’s sputters, and headed out the door to school.

    Buffy waited until the door had closed behind Dawn before turning to her mother.  “Mom, you…going to the hospital now?”

    “I’ll be leaving in about an hour.”

    “Okay.  I’m going to shower.”  Buffy headed up the stairs to the bathroom, dreading the talk she would have to have with Riley, and the whole hospital thingie already.

~*~

    Buffy was waiting for her mother to finish testing when she felt hands on her shoulders.  She turned with a smile, somehow expecting to see Spike.  Her smile quickly faded when she saw Riley instead.

    Oblivious, he wrapped her in a hug that she limply returned.  “We don’t know anything yet,” she said.  “How did you find me?”

    “You didn’t call me.  I had to find out from Spike, who I found in your house, by the way.”

    “Spike?  You saw him?  In my house?”  Inside, she smiled.  Outside, she frowned.

    “Yeah.  In your house, in your room, sniffing your sweater.”

    “He was?”  She suppressed a smile.  “I’ll…talk to him about that.”

    “I assured him that you would.  Will you talk to him before or after you rip his arms off?”

    “Before.  Riley, we really need to talk.”

    He led her into a quiet corner, and they sat across from one another.  “What’s up, Buffy?”

    “Riley—” Buffy bent her head, eyes swimming.  “Riley, I care for you….”

    “But you don’t love me, right?”

    Her head snapped upright.  “Huh?”

    “Spike told me.  He said I’d never be dark enough for you, no matter how hard I tried.  I guess he’s right.  About all of it.”  He looked at the floor, and said, “I guess…is…oh, hell….”  He stood, and raked his hands through his hair. 

    She jumped to her feet.  “Spike told you what?”  she asked, her voice flat.

    “All of it, Buffy.”  He could see the tense anger coiling in her muscles.  “All of it,” he repeated dully.

    Her teeth ached from the flexing of her jaw.  “I’m sorry, Riley.  I am.  But Spike…he doesn’t know anything.”  She willed herself to relax, and took a step toward him.  “I really tried, I have.  The spark is there….”

    “There just isn’t enough to feed it.  I know.  I felt it.  Actually, the lack of it.  And I’ve woke up too many times in the middle of the night to an absent girlfriend and an empty bed.”  He reached down, and picked his coat up off the chair.  “Be happy.  Be happy, Buffy, and be careful.”

    “I’ll try, Riley.  I really will.  And you, too.”

    She watched him walk down the long hallway to the hospital exit.  Remembering, her hands fisted at her sides.  As soon as Mom was done, she was going to deal with a pain in her ass.

Enthralled

Chapter 5

Buffy kicked open the door to the crypt, and was in between Spike and his television set before he could turn around.  “Buffy, love…” he started to say when her fist connected with his nose, stunning him.

“Not even twenty-four hours, and you break your promise.  You asshole!”

He straightened, and she punched him again.  “Breaking into the house, I can handle.  Sniffing my sweater, I can handle that too, though, ewww.  But spilling everything to Riley, before I could even talk to him, that was crossing the line, buddy…” She punctuated her litany of his sins with punches to the face, and he managed to get his hand up, grabbing her fist in mid-swing.

“Wait a bleeding minute, Slayer.  I didn’t….”

“He told me!  He told me what you said!”  She twisted her other fist in his tee shirt and yanked him face to face.  “He told me everything.”

“Word for word, repeating the conversation entire.”  She could feel his anger rising.  “Bloody good of the boy.  Or did he just give you ideas of what I said?”

Her grip loosened, her brow furrowed.  “No, it wasn’t word for word.  Close enough.”  She sat down on the arm of his chair.  “Why, Spike?  Why did you have to betray my trust?”

He put his arm around her hips, and she knocked it away, so he didn’t try again.  “I didn’t, pet.  I didn’t say anything about us to Soldier Boy.”

“Then, how did he know?”

“He didn’t.  I didn’t even hint.”  He grabbed her arms, and pulled her down onto his lap.  “Pet, do you really think that he thought you were deliriously happy?  Everyone could see it, pet, if you didn’t.”

“Huh?”  She wrapped her arms around his neck.  “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you think that maybe the boy knew there was something missing too, love?”

Buffy was stunned to silence, her mind whirling, but the whirling came to a screeching halt when she felt Spike’s hand stroke along her spine under her shirt.  “Better now than later, pet.”

“I know.”  She buried her face in her hands.  “I’m just kicking myself because I didn’t realize it sooner.”

Spike nuzzled her ear with his nose.  “You were slightly preoccupied, baby.  Saving the world and all that?”  He touched the back of her neck under her shirt, pressed his mouth to her pulse.  “Now there is no one between us, love.  No one and nothing to keep us from the dance.”

She shivered at the mention of the word.  Turning her head, she caught his mouth with her own.  Her heart raced in her chest, and she felt a throbbing…expectancy in the pit of her stomach.  An emptiness he needed to fill….

She tore her mouth away from his, and looked into his eyes.  “What are you doing to me, Spike?”

Breathless, he leaned his forehead on her shoulder.  “Exactly what I was going to say, pet.”

“Were you thinking….”

“Lusty naked thoughts?  Yes.  You?”

“Yes!  What is it?”

He wouldn’t meet her eyes, only looked at the ceiling.  “Blood.  I tasted your blood.  Off your mouth last night, when we kissed, while we….”

“Yeah, so?  You aren’t my first…vampire.  You know?”

“Yes, pet.  I’m aware of your history.  Past and present.”

“But I didn’t feel this…connection.  Feel them…like I feel you.  Like, I know you’re telling the truth about Riley.  Like, I know you wouldn’t hurt me, even without the chip.  Like…I can…see some of the things that you do want to do with me.”  She shook her head.  “Spike….”

“Maybe it was the two things combined.  Blood and sex.  Even though I didn’t bite you….”

“And if you did?”

“I don’t know.  Now we definitely need to talk to Rupert, huh?”

“I need to talk to Giles.  You need to stay here.”  She kissed him, and climbed off his lap.  “I’ll be back later.  Sooner.  As soon as I can.”

She leaned over to kiss him again, and he snagged a look at her high firm breasts when her blouse gaped away from her chest.  “Hurry love, faster than fast.  I…need you.  Need to dance with you.”

She ignored the throb the word sent through her body.  “Do you now,” she said, licking her lips.  “Soon.” 

And she was gone again.

Buffy found Giles in the workout room at the rear of the Magic Box.  She let out her held breath, glad to have found him alone.  “Giles?  I need to talk to you.”

“Yes, Buffy?”  her Watcher said, turning to face her.

Ignoring the bats in her stomach and the throbbing that continued in her groin, she plunged in.  “Giles, have any other Slayers ever been…involved with vampires?”

Giles looked at Buffy closely, then cleared his throat.  “Ahem.  Er…yes, Buffy, it has happened.  In the past.  Even with you—Angel.”

“I’m not talking ensouled vampires like Angel.  Regular vampires.”

“Yes, well…yes, since Angel is the only ensouled vampire we know.  Yes, Slayers have been involved with er…regular vampires.”

“What happened to them?”

“Buffy, why?”

“Just answer the question, Giles.  What happened to the slayers?”

“Hmm.”  Giles took his glasses off and polished the lenses.  “One, I believe, was actually turned.  She was staked by her Watcher.”

“And the others?”

Giles replaced his glasses.  “Buffy, what is this about?”

She plunked herself down on the bench, and looked Giles dead in the eye.  “I had sex with Spike.  Now I can…feel him…sense his thoughts…see mental pictures.  Is that normal?”

“Oh dear Lord.”  Giles sat down heavily next to her, and cleaned his glasses again.  “Buffy, why?”

“Giles.”  She turned to face him.  “I’ve…I’ve felt drawn to him, ever since Will did that ‘will be done’ spell last year, when we were going to get married.  Our fights, our sparring, even our spats, all felt like…foreplay.  There’s…” She hesitated, then threw herself into the abyss.  “There’s a spark there, Giles.  Something I’ve never felt before, with anyone.  A connection.”

“Buffy, you know who Spike is….”

“Yes, and I also know that he can’t hurt me, or anyone else, for that matter.  And, he’s helped us in the past.”  She sighed, then added, “And he could help us even more with our…other problem.  With the key,” she said, referring to the nameless bleach blonde babe that had thoroughly kicked her ass.

“I should have never let you go last night.”

She stood, eyes blazing.  “Giles, you’re my Watcher, not my warden.”

“I’m fully aware of that fact.”

“So, tell me now—what happened to the other Slayers?  Not the staked one, but the ones that didn’t turn?”

Giles rested his head on the wall behind him, and sighed deeply.  “They were some of the longest-lived Slayers.  The Chronicles say they could…fight like the demons themselves…take an inhuman amount of pain and injury…and nearly anticipate their enemies moves.”

“So, this is a good, right?  I could…gain some power from this?”

Giles reached for her, grabbing her upper arm.  “Buffy—are you absolutely certain that this is a good thing?  I think you are making a grave mistake.”

She looked down at his hand, and he dropped her arm.  “Giles…that bitch kicked my ass all over that warehouse.  I need every advantage in this.  Every advantage I can get, to protect Dawn.”

“I see.”  Once again removing his glasses, Giles massaged his aching temples.  “Just be careful, Buffy.”

He looked up, and found he spoke to an empty room. The back door of the shop drifted closed with the light breeze.
 

Large post today--chapters 6-10.  Thank God for Lisa, my beta, my conscience--this is a better fic, and clearer because of her suggestions....Thanks to Josh, for all the fodder for the machine...and thanks to you, dear sweet readers, for all your feedback.  I am a feedback whore, would do anything for a good review...LOL...so keep them coming.


Chapter 6

Riley stalked into the crypt, dragged Spike out of his chair, and threw him across the room, slamming a stake into his chest.  Spike groaned in agony, more at not seeing the Slayer again than the pain, then realized he wasn’t turning to dust.

“Wood-grained plastic.  Pretty effective, huh?”  Riley sneered into the vampire’s face.

Riley felt a hand on his shoulder, then a fist connected with his jaw.  He looked up to see a very pissed Slayer staring down at him, then watched her as she helped Spike over to his chair, stake still in place.  She pulled it out and threw it across the room where it clattered in the corner.

“Buffy?”  he said, confused to the core.

“Riley.  What gives?”  She reached down, and hauled him upright with one hand.  “Didn’t get the point earlier?  We’re done.  Back off.  Go away.”

“Buffy?  Why are you so concerned about Spike?”

“That is none of your concern, Riley.”

Realization hit him, and his eyes widened in disbelief and disgust.  “Him!?  You broke up with me for him?”  His lip curled with disgust.  “You never stooped this low before, Buffy.”

She sniffed, about to deliver a scathing retort, and smelled…something.  She closed her eyes, and saw a scene in her mind…Riley…and some vamp bitch…and she was feeding off of him.

She was in front of him in two steps, grabbing his arm and yanking up the long sleeve of his sweater.  She found exactly what she thought she would—bite marks in the bend of his elbow.  Fresh bite marks, and old ones as well.  “I’m low?  At least I’m not paying for it!”  she growled.  “Get away from me, Riley.  I never want to see you again.”

He started out the door, then paused long enough to point at Spike.  “This isn’t over yet, Spike.”

“Yes, it is, Riley.  He can’t hurt you—but I can.”

He turned to look back at her, then left the crypt, slamming the door behind him.

Buffy turned to Spike where he sat in the chair.  “Spike?”  she said, her voice filled with fear.

“I’m okay, pet.  Not fatal.”  He still held his hand to his chest. 

“What can I do?”

“I’ll be fine, pet.  Just grab me some blood out of the fridge.”  She turned, and moments later, brought him a quart jar of blood.  She planted herself on the arm of his chair, and watched him drink it down.

“You…how did you know about Riley?  And that vampire bitch?  Even though, you know, it was kinda distracting.”

“Could smell it, pet.  Couldn’t you?”  He gasped, feeling the tissues in his chest burn as they began mending themselves.

“Was that what that smell was?  I didn’t know.”  She leaned over and pulled his shirt up to look at the depression in his chest.  “You’re healing fast.”

“Blood.  Blood does it.”

“Blood.”  She picked up the jar, looked into it.  “Blood magick.”  She thought of an old rock album, and looked at him under her eyelashes.  “Sex magick too?”  she said innocently.

He looked up at her in shock, then watched as she ran her finger around the curve of the jar’s inside.  She reached out with a blood-drenched finger, and touched it to his mouth.  “You missed some,” she said, and his lips welcomed her finger between them.

He ran his tongue from base to tip of her finger where it rested inside his mouth.  It was pig’s blood, kind of bland, but underneath, there was her—her essence, her scent, her flavor.  His demon screamed for release, and even without the chip firing, he clamped down on the thought.  Not food, he thought to himself.

Buffy leaned close to whisper in his ear, “No, not food, Spike.  Better than food.”  She traced her tongue around the curve of his ear, then exhaled lightly, eliciting a gasp and freeing her finger.

“Buffy,” he said, grabbing her arms.  “What in the bleeding hell…?”

“Spike,” she groaned.  “Are you going to make me go through this virginy stuff every time?  Funny, but it should be the other way around,” she said, eyes shining and a grin on her face.

“What did Giles say?”

She sat back on her heels.  “Oh, that.  Well, you were right.”  She leaned forward.  “Now, can we, uh, get down to business?”

“Buffy!  What did Giles say—exactly?”

“Well, you know Giles.  Blah, blah, blah, enhanced powers, great speed, faster healing, blah, blah, blah.  Do you have a bed around here?”

“Downstairs.  Buffy, please!”

She looked up, and stopped stroking his thigh.  Her thoughts came through to him clearly—him on his back, her on top, touching each other, buried in her….  He shook his head, then looked into her eyes.  “Buffy, why are you acting like this?”

She looked up at him, pouting.  “You think all these nasty thoughts all day, and I can see them in my mind.  We…connected.  You and I.  And you…made me feel like nobody else, ever.  Not Riley.  Not Parker.  Not even Angel.”  She saw his look, and hurried on.  “Spike, it was good.  It was better than good.  I want you.  I need you.  Isn’t that enough for now?”

He consciously blocked all romantic thoughts from his head.  “I just want to be sure that you know what you’re doing.  And with whom.”

She put her hands on either side of his head.  “Yes, Spike, I know.  Yes, I want this.  Yes, I want you, and need you, Spike.”  She leaned forward, and kissed one eye.  “I want you, Spike.”  She kissed the other eye.  “I need you…inside me.”  She planted tiny kisses over his cheekbone, to his temple, down his jaw.  “I want to touch you.”  She trailed her mouth over the underside of his chin, to his throat.  “I want to make you feel good too.  I want you to scream my name,” she murmured against his neck.

She ran her tongue over his Adam’s apple, back up his throat, and hovered over his mouth.  “Make love to me, Spike.  Or fuck me.  Or something.  Just do it, and quit teasing me.”  She closed her eyes and kissed him, opening her mouth for his tongue as it thrust itself at her.

She moaned against his mouth as she felt herself lifted into his arms.  He pulled her onto his lap, his hands on her ass, cupping it and tilting her pelvis toward him.  Her groin pressed against the bulge growing in his jeans, and they both groaned aloud.

“Bed, Spike?”  she said, dragging her mouth from his.

She stood, dragging him with her by the shirt.  She backed toward the hole in the floor, leading them into the basement below the crypt.  She descended the ladder, still pulling him, and, on reaching the bottom, pressed him against the rungs, gripping them behind him, and kissed him again.

She grabbed his hands and walked him backward toward the bed.  She stopped next to it, and raised her eyes to his.  “Spike, I just want to make sure you want this…” she said mischievously.  At the disbelieving look that crossed his face, she said, “Please—undress me.”

His hands were trembling as he undid the clasp in her hair, tossing it on the bedside table.  He ran his hands through the waves, tousling them, her scent filling his nostrils.  His hands went to her waist, touching a line of bare skin between her pants and sweater, and she gasped.  She lifted her arms, and he pulled the sweater off, tossing it to the floor.  His hands grazed her shoulders, pushing aside one of the spaghetti straps that held her camisole in place, and bent his head to press his mouth to the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

Her arms coiled around his head as he explored her skin with lips and tongue.  She threw her head back, and he ventured further.  Her pulse was a throbbing cherry beneath his tongue; he could taste the copper beneath the skin.  His demon raged, wanting him to share the wealth, and he slammed it inside an iron cage in his mind.

He stroked her back as he lifted the camisole, feeling the silken play of her skin beneath his fingers.  It, too, landed on the floor, and she was bare from the waist up, warm and golden in the flickering candle and torch light.  He dropped to his knees, and worshipped her body with his mouth, touching her everywhere he could reach.

His hands fumbled with the button on her leather pants until it snapped open.  She watched as he glided them off her hips, leaving her in her tiniest pair of black underwear.  He looked up at her, eyebrows raised, then pushed her gently to sit on the edge of the bed. 

Looking at her feet, he saw her in boots again.  Always boots for this one, he thought.  He picked up one foot, found the boot’s zipper, and drew it down, pulling the boot off with the other hand.  He tossed it away, and its mate soon joined it.  He pulled off one sock, stroking her foot with his palm, and kissing the tip of her toes.  She giggled, and pulled away, but not fast enough.  “We’ll have to explore that one another day, pet,” he said, then drew her great toe into his mouth, sucking gently.  “I think you’ll like that.”  He ripped away the other sock, and she scooted up onto the bed, bare but for a tiny scrap of material. 

She leaned back against the headboard of the four poster, and said, “Now,” she said, with an evil glint in her eye.  “Undress for me.”

He pulled his tee shirt off, abs rippling.  He turned to sit and take off his Docs, and felt her hand stroke his back.  He turned to look at her, and she wagged her eyebrows at his pants.  “Those have to come off.”

“They are, pet,” he said, standing again.  Turning, he let her see the bulge in his jeans.  He undid the button at the top, then slowly drew the zipper down until the pressure made his cock force its way out of its confinement.  He pushed the jeans down and kicked them aside.  He watched her eyes travel hungrily over his body, smelled her arousal throughout the cavern.  For that moment, she was his world, and he felt like hers.

The feeling scared him, and he reacted the only way he knew how.  He put on the Bad Boy.  He stood, hips cocked, sneer on his lips, dangerous look in his eye, and put his hand on his growing erection.  “Are you sure, absolutely certain, that you really want this, Slayer?”  he said, in his best Big Bad voice.

She knew better than to laugh.  “Positive.  Absolutely.  Come here.”  She licked her lips, and reached for him. 

“Oh no you don’t.  On your stomach, Slayer.”  At her puzzled look, he said, “You told me to do anything to you, so it’s my choice.  On your belly, now, or you won’t get this,” he threatened, wagging his cock at her.

Obediently, she turned over.  He covered her with his body, his erection between her firm buttocks.  She tried to arch her hips, and he pressed down, holding her still.  He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply, then brushed it to one side to expose the back of her neck.  He kissed her neck and shoulders, single-minded in his quest to taste every inch of her skin.  She writhed beneath him as he kissed down her spine, her tender sides, and her hypersensitive thighs, to the backs of her knees. 

She moaned.  She squealed.  Gasping, panting, she tried to roll over without success.  Spike held her still, and worshipped her with his mouth, and she had to lay there and take it.  Then he ran his tongue up the crack of her ass, and she nearly jumped off the bed. 

When she was near tears and dripping wet, he rolled her over, yanked off the pretend panties, and covered her with his body again, face to face.  “Spike, please…I can’t take much more.”

“You’ll take it all, Slayer.  Remember, you wanted this.”  He kissed her, exploring her mouth with his tongue.  She ran her hands over his back, feeling the muscles flex under his skin as he dipped his head to engulf one of her nipples with his mouth, drawing it tight.  He thought of tasting her juices that were copiously flowing, dampening her thighs and staining his sheets, and realized that neither one of them could hold out that long.

She was moaning, whispering, but he heard her clearly.  “Spike, please…please…I need you inside me…fill me…feel me…God….”  She raked her hands through her hair, then pulled him up until they were face to face again.  “Please, baby, please, now….” 

She reached down, and her hand gripped him hard, positioning him to enter her.  She arched her back, and he slid inside her effortlessly.  She felt like liquid silk against his sensitive skin, fiery hot the deeper he went.  She reached down, cupping his ass with her hands, and pulled him into her as deep as he could go.

He looked into her eyes, and was unable to tear himself away.  Truly the mirrors to her soul, she looked at him with such longing and passion it could have stolen his breath.  Cupping her cheek, he began to move slowly with long deep strokes that penetrated to her core.

They danced, their bodies moving as one in an undulating wave that built them both toward their ultimate crescendo.  Ancient rhythms driving them, every movement, every touch built counterpoint to the beat of her heart.  She begged him to go faster, and still he kept to the same maddening pace, even as she clawed his back.  She tried to touch him, or touch herself, he wasn’t sure which, and he grabbed her hands and held them over her head with one hand. 

He kissed her like he was fucking her, with slow deep thrusts of his tongue into the wetness of her mouth.  She arched her hips, she writhed, she locked her ankles around his waist, but still he kept his rhythm steady. 

Then he stopped, and Buffy nearly cried out loud.

He looked down at her flushed face and glistening body.  “Now, Slayer.  Let’s put you in the driver’s seat.”  With a twist of his hips, he rolled them, and she was on top of him.  She looked down at him lying beneath her, and felt her body stretching pleasurably to accommodate him at this new angle.  She arched her hips, flexed her thighs, and she was riding him.  She reached over his head to grab onto the headboard for leverage, and he saw her nipple mere centimeters from his mouth.  He snagged it as it brushed his cheek, sucking it between his lips.  A bolt of pleasure shot through her, and she grabbed his head with one arm, urging him onward.  He ran his hands over her ass, guiding her hips onto his throbbing cock.

“Spike, I need more…so close…harder, love….”  She twisted, and he was back on top again, watching her toss her head frantically side to side.  “Make me come, Spike…make me come, please….”

With vampire strength he began thrusting into her wetness, their flesh slapping together violently as he ran his hands over her breasts, her face.  She opened her eyes and their gazes locked as she continued to talk to him.  “Oh, God…that’s it, Spike…fuck me hard…hard…fast…deep…can you feel it?  My body…Slayer…sweet Slayer meat…fuck it hard, Spike….”  She tossed her head, sweeping her hair to one side.  “Bite me, Spike.  Put your mark on me.  Please.”

“Buffy, are you sure?”

“Bite me.  Teeth or fangs, I don’t care.  Just bite me, please.”

Discretion warred with valor, and won.  Spike dipped his head to her neck, capturing her pulse with blunt teeth where it beat wildly like a captured bird at the side of her throat.  Control, he thought.  Control.  He increased the pressure slowly as he drove himself inside her, until he was afraid he would break the skin.  Tension lay thick on the air as she continued to climb to her peak. 

Suddenly, she grabbed his head and held it in place.  Surprised by the move, his teeth grazed her skin harder when his jaw flexed.  Blood flooded his mouth, overwhelming his senses, and as her slick inner muscles clamped down on his cock, her body erupted in a frenzied heart-pounding climax that had her writhing beneath him, her nails buried in his head as his teeth were buried in her neck.

His last conscious thought was, bloody hell, I’ve marked her, when his cock erupted, joining her in driving, thoughtless need.  He drank deep of her, the taste gone completely to his head as he drowned in the sight, the smell, the taste, the feel of the Slayer.  Blood magick.  Sex magick.

She pulled at him, sought out his mouth, and tasted her blood on his lips.  Without thought, she bit his lip, her sharp teeth breaking the skin, and sucked hard, his cool blood sliding into her mouth and down her throat.  Together, they tasted their blood on each other, mingling on their lips as they kissed, their bodies still throbbing.  As they kissed, something tightened between them, the mysterious connection, and she shuddered as another orgasm wracked her body, and Spike pulled back, surprise on his face, as he began coming as well.

Limp and completely spent, he collapsed onto his back, still touching her as he lay there, panting.  Realizing what he had done, he said, “Bloody hell, Buffy, I bit you.  I broke the skin.  Pet, I’m so sorry…did I hurt you?”

She leaned up on her side, eyes sparkling.  “No, you idiot, you didn’t hurt me.  And I bit you back, remember?”  She touched his lip, and his cock twitched.  She grinned at the power she had over him, and reached down to lightly touch the head.  “Again, love?  So soon?”

He grabbed her hand, and held it to his chest.  “Not quite yet, love.  Let me recover from your last assault.” 

She looked down where their hands rested, expecting to see the depression where Riley had stabbed him.  His chest was perfectly smooth; the only marks were the scratches she’d put there at some point.  “Your chest.  How?”

He looked down.  “Blood magick, love.  A Slayer’s blood is very…potent, you know.  Also an aphrodisiac, I hear.”

She grinned widely.  “Aphrodisiac, huh?”  She swept her hair to one side, and said, “Then bite me again, and let’s…well…you know…” she said, dropping her eyes.

He looked at the seeping mark on her neck, nearly healed now.  “I can do just as well without it, pet.  You’re my aphrodisiac.  Just…touching you…tasting your skin…” he ran his finger down her throat to her chest.  “Don’t need anything more than be around you.”  He closed his eyes, and she looked down to see his physical reaction to her presence.

He threw his arm over his eyes.  “God help me, Buffy—this is wrong, me and you—I know it is.  Vampire, Slayer.  But I can’t—can’t get you out of me.  You’re there, every minute, every day….”  She put her hand over his mouth, stopping him.

“Maybe it isn’t wrong, Spike.  I mean—you’ve been helping me anyway with demons and vamps.  I can count on you—I trust you.”  She thought of Dawn, and he picked up on her thought.

“The Niblet?  Why are you worried about the Niblet?”

“That girl—the one that kicked my ass?  I don’t want her to hurt Dawn.”

“I’ll keep an eye on the Niblet for you.  It’s the least I can do.”  He paused, then added, “Uh, speaking of…what did she and your mum say…about us?”

“Well,” Buffy said, settling against his chest again, “Dawn squealed, which is Dawnspeak for yay, and Mom actually gave me her blessing.  Which reminds me,” she said, eyes narrowing, “You’ve been hanging out with my mother?”

“Uh—Joyce is a nice lady.  She listens.  And she makes great cocoa, always has some of those tiny little marshmallows….”

“Uh-huh.”  She gave him a skeptical look, and he caved.

“I wasn’t there a lot—just pop in once in a while for a look-around, making sure she and the Niblet were okay.  Not like you were there all the time, now, was it?”

Buffy had the good grace to look guilty.  “She thinks you’re a nice guy.  And she calls you William.”

He looked embarrassed.  “She told me that Spike didn’t fit.  Asked for my given name.  Didn’t feel right to be rude, so….”

She grunted, then climbed off the bed.  He watched her wander around the cavern, then saw what her eyes were drawn to—a canvas covered table in a dark corner.  He leaped from the bed, but was a shade slower than she was.  She pulled the canvas off the table, and saw what lay underneath.

There was a dresser, or something, she saw, and it was covered with photographs, drawings, papers with hastily scribbled words…of her.  About her.  Images of her stared back at her.  There was one, a simple line drawing of her sleeping face.  High school pictures.  Baby pictures.  She reached for a stack of papers, and jumped back when Spike insinuated himself between her and the table.

“Spike, what is this?”

Chapter 7

“I….  Buffy….”

“Spike?”  Pieces fell into place, and she turned to look at him, realization plain in her eyes.  “You’re in love with me.”

He couldn’t look at her.  Couldn’t bear to see the look in her eyes, the disgust.  “I tried…not to, I mean…but I couldn’t stop.  Couldn’t get you out of my mind.  Seeing you…working with you…but, I guess we’re all done with that now, aren’t we?”  He stared at the ground between his feet, his eyes half-closed, waiting for her to punch him and leave. 

She was shocked, at first, but then it all just seemed to make sense.  The attempted kiss outside the Bronze.  How many coincidental meetings?  The back yard, the other night.  Just now.  And all the unspoken, unnamed emotions that she always saw in his eyes, every time they looked at her, so many times when they talked, slayed, fought.  Every time they were together, in fact.

She took a step, then another, and saw him flinch slightly, as if bracing himself.  The little movement broke her heart—was she that big a bitch?  What did he think she would do, hit him?  She thought of kissing him, and he raised his head, eyes blazing and nostrils flaring. 

“Buffy?”  Then she was kissing him, touching him, and all thought left him with the intense sensations she roused. 

“Spike,” she said, against his mouth, “You weren’t going to tell me?”

He pulled away from her then, and went over to snag a cigarette.  He took a drag, then exhaled the smoke, studying her face through the artificial haze.  “Well, pet, I think that it was just yesterday that I told you of the events that made me who I am.  Part and parcel was my infatuation with Cecily.”

He felt her bristle at the name, and smiled inwardly, then continued.  “I know they say, once a fool, always a fool.  But still—sometimes a man can’t handle that kind of rejection.  Especially not…more than once.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I thought it was a fluke.  Last night.  I thought…I thought that things would go back to normal after you…got it together, and that…you would kick me in the head, virtue fluttering…and it would be all my fault, the big bad, seducer of virgins and all that.”

“You had that little faith in me.  I am amazed.  And I am so not a virgin!”

“Pet, I didn’t have that little faith in you.  Just figured that you would…revert to type, I suppose.  Have that little faith in myself.”  He tossed the half-smoked cigarette away, and began to pace.  “Maybe you missed the hidden undertones in my story, pet.  Perhaps the subtext was too subtle, the lesson didn’t ring true for you.”  He stopped in front of her, looked down at her.  “I’m a loser, pet.  Always and forever a loser.  Always bollixing things…Cecily…looked at me, and saw a loser.  Dru…Dru left me for a bleeding Chaos demon.  And you…you never see me as anything…worthy of you.”  He turned his head, but not before she saw the shine of tears filming his eyes.  “Never worthy…never worthy enough for anyone…beneath you.”

His words, simply spoken in a trembling voice, hit her in the stomach and knocked the wind out of her.  Beneath you.  That was the exact words she had used to him last night, the ones she had so carelessly picked to toss in his face as she left him on the ground.  Beneath me.  You’re beneath me.  They mocked her with their cruelty.

His back to her now, he looked at the ceiling.  “So, pet, how the bloody hell was I supposed to tell you I loved you?  So you could kick me in the teeth again?  Tell me I have no soul, so I can’t love?  Tell me that there’s no good inside me, that love that feels this good can’t live in someone evil and soulless like me?”

She thought about what he was saying.  It was true, all of it—she saw the world in black and white, no gray areas—good and evil—right and wrong.  Even with Angel, she thought.  When he had a soul, he was good—and therefore, worthy of her love.  When he lost it, because of her, and their actions together, she…she cast him away.  Cut him loose from her heart, and even killed him in the end. 

She shook her head to clear her mind, and looked at the man studying the room as if she wasn’t there.  She could almost see anguish rising off his body like steam, his torment so evident in his posture.  His shoulders were slumped in defeat, and he waited.  Waited for the shoe to drop. 

She stepped toward him, and ran her hands lightly over his shoulders and down his sides to his tapered waist.  “You’re right, Spike.  You’re right.  But that was…before.”

He stood completely still, stiff and unmoving, not even breathing.  “Before what, Buffy?”

She kissed him between his shoulder blades, ignoring the sparks the simple gesture ignited in her groin.  “Before we talked.  Before I knew you…better.   Maybe rejection made you the monster you were…but maybe…maybe love could make you the man that you were meant to be.”

She spoke softly, but knew that he heard every word.  She laid her cheek against his back, wrapping her arms around his waist.  “I can’t promise you anything, Spike.  But I can…try.  I want to know where this will lead.  Where this will take us.  But, I won’t ever know…if I don’t let it happen.”

“But do you want this to happen, Buffy?”  She felt him move away, then suddenly he was across the room from her.  She stared, trying to remember him moving away.  “Do you want this?”

Chapter 8

She looked at him across the room.  His skin was like carved alabaster in the dim light.  The torchlight flickered, highlighting the planes of his face…the rippling muscles in his chest and abs…his cock, already half-erect, the tip glistening…her eyes toured his body, then she sought his eyes—and saw the dim glimmer of hope in their depths.

She licked her lips, suddenly dry, and realized that she was holding her breath.  “Yes.  Yes, Spike, I do want this.”  She crossed the room, and wrapped her arms around his neck, forcing him to look at her.  “I want this, Spike.  Being the Slayer means…tomorrow might not come.  So, I need to look at today and now, instead of tomorrow and when.  I don’t have the luxury of…lots of time…or immortality.”

He winced at the words, although he knew them to be true.  His mind on other things, he missed her low whisper, and cocked his head to hear her better.  “What was that, pet?  Couldn’t quite make it out.”

He was startled when he saw tears spilling slowly down her cheeks.  “Oh, please, Spike, don’t make me say it again.”

“Didn’t quite catch it.”

“I said, I’m sorry that I said those things.  Well, sorrier, since I already apologized once.  I…I was confused…and in shock…and…and….”

“Fighting the dance, pet?  Or the fact that you wanted to dance?”

“Both,” she said, exhaling.  “Spike, I’ve been fighting this for over a year now.  I never forgot any of it—the way your lips felt—the way you tasted—the smells surrounding you—and I wanted more.  Ever since then, wanted more.  All the time.  You kissed me, and I was so turned on, I couldn’t sit still.”

“So, you wanted me?”

“A thousand pounds of yes!  In the worst way.  And I knew things weren’t right between Riley and me.  He was…normal…and I thought that was what I wanted.  Then, when I realized he was a bigot…”

“Huh?”

“…You know, human or hostile…as the Slayer, I didn’t really fit in his human category.  Narrow-minded government prick.  Anyway…I’m not normal.  Never will be.  And so I fought it, uselessly as it turns out, right?  Because, you may be the perfect one for me.  Who can know?”

“We did flirt around it a lot, you and i.”  He chuckled.  “There I was, all threats and bluster, shouting to the treetops about what I was gonna do to kill you.  All I wanted to do was throw you down on the ground and give you a good shagging, knock some sense into you….”

She grinned, and sighed.  “All I wanted was for you to stake me—with your stake.”  She blushed when she realized what she said, then he was in front of her, right there, and she couldn’t look past him.  Didn’t want to. 

He tipped her chin up, and kissed her full her slack mouth before she could close it.  His tongue slid neatly inside, tasting her sweetness.  “Anything for you, pet.  Anything, anywhere, anytime.  All you have to do is ask.”

She pulled her hair aside with one hand as she grabbed his cock with the other.  “Then bite me, Spike.  Really bite me.”

He pulled away from her, his face a mask of confusion.  “But Buffy, the chip….”

“It didn’t fire a while ago when you bit me.  And I know that you don’t want to hurt me.”  She stroked him, closed her eyes, and leaned toward him, swaying slightly.  “I know you want to—I felt you…jump in my hand when I said it.”  She swayed hypnotically, her scent rising between them.  She gripped his cock tightly, and he heard his own words thrown back at him.  “You know you want to dance.  Come on, Spike—give it me good.”  She leaned closer to him, her nipples brushing his chest, lips moist and inviting, pulses pounding. 

He groaned, then buried his face in her shoulder, pulling her close to him.  “God, Buffy, I can’t tell you no.  I could never tell you no….”  He laved her neck with his tongue, tasting her.  Head spinning at the sensation of her in his arms, he ran his hands over her skin.  She tilted her head to the side away from him, and he could smell the blood under her skin.  Saliva filled his mouth, and he felt his game face sliding forward, without bidding, without conscious thought. 

Then, with regret, he pulled back, game face still in place.  “Buffy, “ he said, then stopped, realizing the inadequacy of words.  He bent his head to stare at his feet again.

He felt her fingers touch the ridges above his eyes, the bumps on his forehead.  She touched his lengthened canines with her fingertip, testing the points.  When she looked into his golden eyes with her luminous hazel eyes, he nearly came undone.  “Spike, I’m not asking you to turn me.  I just want…I want us both to feel….”

“Feel what?  Me teeth in your skin?  Your blood in my mouth?  What are you wanting to feel, pet?”

“You.  All of you.  Inside me.  In me.  Didn’t you feel it last night?  The…connection between us?  It gets stronger when—“

“When you tasted my blood.”

“Yes.  I need to know.  I need to learn.  I think we ought to push this to the limits, find out where it takes us.  I’m sure if there are pluses on my side, then there have to be pluses for you too.”  She touched his fang again, then looked into those haunting golden eyes.  “Please?”

He lowered his mouth to her neck, and carefully nicked the skin.  Hot blood poured into his mouth, and he sipped it delicately, savoring her flavor, then licked around the wound until it healed.  He noticed it healed quickly, even for a Slayer, more quickly than he’d ever seen before.  He nicked his wrist, and three droplets of blood welled up.  Extending his arm, he offered it to her, and she licked his blood, not grimacing, letting it slide over her tongue and down her throat.  Again, their connection tightened, and it felt like every muscle in his body, every fiber of his being was magically connected to hers.

She looked up at him, eyes shining.  “You feel it, don’t you?”

“Cor, yes,” he moaned, shaking off his game face. 

“Like a watch that’s wound too tight.  Like we’re going to…”

“Explode.”

“Yesss…” she hissed, gripping his arms. 

She thought of something, and opened her mouth, and he said, “Yes.  Through the tunnels.  We must talk to Rupert about this.  Together, this time.”

“How did you know—“

“What you were gonna say?  The connection, pet.  Like I can hear your voice—“

“—in my mind.  Is that—“

“Normal?  Don’t know.”  He looked down at both of them.  “We need to dress.  Plenty of time for—“

“—shagging, but Giles needs to know about this.”


Chapter 9

They found their clothes and dressed quickly, then he showed her to the tunnels that twisted beneath Sunnydale through the entrance there under his crypt.  They made their way to the Magic Box, and came up through the basement, appearing from nowhere to the surprise of the Scoobies.  Although they really didn’t seem surprised, she thought.

They looked around.  Things seemed normal.  Willow and Tara sat at the “battle table”, trying to research the new player in town.  Xander was standing at the bookshelf, grabbing more books.  Giles and Anya were having an animated discussion by the cash register.
   
“Hey, guys.”  Buffy tossed her bag on the table.  “How goes the research?”

“Nothing.”  Willow closed her book with a thud, and Xander brought another tall stack to the table. 

“Nothing here too.  With no name, and not much else to go on, we’re pretty much flying blind,” Xander added.

“Although, it has been pointed out that perhaps this demon predates the written word.  Which could be entirely likely, considering the lack of information that we have been able to discover.”  Giles stuffed his hands in his pockets, and said, “She could be anywhere.”

Anya interrupted him.  “Hey.  Hey.  Hey!  HEY!”

Xander rushed over to his girlfriend.  “Anya, what is it?”

She shook a receipt at Giles, oblivious to the stares from customers and Scoobies and the Slayer.  “You dolt!  You sold a Sobekian blood stone and a Khul’s amulet together!  To the same person!  Are you stupid, or something?”

“Let me answer that by a firing.”  Giles looked at the girl coldly.

“Anya, we talked about this….” Xander started.

“No!  You never sell those two things together.  Bad, very bad.  Don’t you know anything about the Sobokites?  Or Khul?”

Willow brightened.  “Oh, I know this.  They performed dark magicks.”

“And the bloodstone.  That was for transmogrifying spells, wasn’t it?”  Tara added.

“But the rituals were lost long ago, and the young woman I sold them to could never…it takes enormous power….”  Giles trailed off, realizing what he was saying.  “Oh dear Lord.”  He removed his glasses to clean the lenses. 

“So you sold an amulet and a rock to the girl who kicked me around like a rag doll.  So, what’s she going to do now?  Hit me with the rock while she wears some not-fabulous jewelry?”

“No.”  Giles replaced his glasses.  “She could use them to create…a monster.”

“Oh, okay.  Another monster.  Tuesday in Sunnydale.  Giles, can we see you in the back for a moment?”

“Er, yes.  Anya, we’re not done here.” 

“I know.  I’ll be right here, guarding the money and trying to get more from these nice people.”

“Yes.  Willow, Tara, Xander, start researching the Sobekians, and Khul, if you would please?”  Giles turned to look at the pair waiting for him, and took a deep breath.  “Dear Lord,” he sighed, as he cleaned his glasses and led them to the workout room.

Buffy closed the door behind the three of them, and leaned against it, facing Giles.  “Do they know anything yet?” she asked, jerking her head toward the closed door.

“No.  No, I saw no reason to…enlighten them to Spike’s change in status.”

“Good.  We may need to keep it that way for a while.”  She walked toward Giles, and he found himself backing up, away from his Slayer.  He made himself stand still, and watched her closely for signs of…what, he wasn’t certain, or wasn’t certain he wanted to admit yet.

“Giles, we need to know everything you can tell us about past Slayers and their vampire boyfriends.”

“Actually, I was able to look at the Chronicles….”

“And?”  she prompted.

“Oh, dear,” he said, replacing his glasses.  “Yes, well…it seems that Slayers who…well, mate with vampires, so to speak, they uh…gain strength, as I told you.  Enhanced sight and hearing.  Enhanced healing abilities.  However, the policy has always been to, er, execute the Slayer and allow a new Chosen to rise.  The Council….”

“The Council will not find out, will they, Giles?”

“No.  I am in full agreement, Buffy.  The Council need not know.  If they did, however, you would be killed.  So would Spike, his ashes scattered and the ground salted.  They really do frown on this sort of thing.  I can’t really say as I approve, either.”

She looked at Spike, proud of him for holding his tongue.  Sending him a secretive look, she turned back to Giles.  “I know, this sleeping-with-the-enemy thingie.  But Giles—could this help me battle the bleach blonde uber bimbo?”

Giles stuffed his hands back in his pockets, and looked at the ceiling.  “I suppose it could.  It might.  If we only knew something about her….”

“And there’s nobody we can trust to ask.”  She looked at Spike, standing in the shadows.  “Honey?”

Giles winced at the endearment; Spike grinned.  “I can make the rounds of the demon haunts.  Can’t promise you anything, pet.”

“That’s enough, for now.”  She turned back to Giles.  “Does the Council have anything on that girl?”

“Without a name, we would be hard pressed to find any information anywhere.  Even from the Council.  But, they are a source that we cannot afford to ignore.”

“Well, we will for a little longer.  At least, until we see what she is up to now.  And if we do, you can’t mention Spike at all, or that other thingie….”

“Yes, Buffy, I agree.  That would bring up entirely too many questions.”  Giles started toward the door, then paused as he came even with Spike.  “Take care of her, and Dawn.  They are like my own daughters.  If you hurt Buffy, I will stake you myself.”

“I heard that, Giles,” Buffy called from across the room.

“Yes, well, I mean it.  And I think Spike understands me.”

He felt Spike’s hand on his arm, and looked up at the vampire.  “I would give my life for her, Rupert.”

“You don’t have a life to give anymore, Spike.”  He turned, and left the workout room.  They headed to the basement, and the tunnels.

“Bloody ponce,” Spike muttered.  “So, where to go now, pet?”

“I need to check on Mom at the hospital.  Do the tunnels go there too?”

“Its Sunnydale’s own bleeding underground.  Go everywhere.”  He set off in the direction of the hospital, Buffy at his side.  “Pet, do we still have to…?”

“Yes, honey, we do.  Giles has been there for me, for too many years.  He’s like my father—or at least, like my father was, before he pulled that Houdini on us.”

“You know, I knew ol’ Harry.  He was a right sort of bloke.  Couldn’t take a punch, though.” 

“Spike,” she started, and he reached for her hand. 

“It’s the bit.  Yes, I’ll keep an eye on her when you aren’t around.  Can’t do much in the daylight, but I’ll do my best for you.”

“Can you read my mind?”

“No, pet.  Just…mental pictures.  Strong feelings.  And the worried look on your face.  You always have that look when you think about Dawn.”

“Spike—do you understand why we have to keep our relationship a secret?  It isn’t shame—I swear.  But, if we have to resort to the Council….”

“Not going to do either one of us any good.  I understand, pet.  Don’t want to lose my Slayer.”  He brought their joined hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to her palm.  “The Slayerettes—they couldn’t keep a secret if it bit them.  Although the loverwiccas certainly pulled the wool over everyone’s eyes, except mine….”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if they could keep this one.  Especially Xander.”

“Ah, the whelp.  He’s going to be the tough nut, isn’t he?”

“To say the least.”  He stopped, and jerked his head at the ladder next to them. 

“That’ll take you up to the boiler room in the basement of the hospital.  If they ask….”

“I’ll just say that I was looking for a bathroom and got lost.  That’s the great thing about being a girl.  Everyone thinks you’re harmless.”

“Not everyone.”  He touched her face, and she looked up at him.  “I know you’re not.  You can kill me with a word.”

“No, I can’t.”  She touched his cheek, and raised her mouth to kiss him.  “Can’t, and don’t want to.”

“I’ll be at the crypt, if you need me.  Be careful, love.”

“You be careful.”  She grinned, and climbed the ladder.

Chapter 10

Buffy climbed the ladder, made her way through the bowels of the hospital, and got to the lounge in time to see the doctor enter through another door, searching the room.  “Miss Summers,” he said, crossing the room.  She met him halfway, and he led her to a quiet nook, a grave look on his face. 

“Buffy, we found a shadow on the MRI.”  Her heart felt like it stopped beating, it made a little gallop in her chest that actually hurt.  She put her hand to her chest, and held her breath at his next sentence.  “It could be nothing, but with the symptoms she’s showing, we don’t dare wait.  We have her on the schedule for the next open room.”

Open room?  “For what?”

“For exploratory brain surgery.  Now, I’ve talked to Joyce, and she’s given consent.  Would you like to see her before she goes in?”

“Yes.”  Her lips were numb.  She woodenly followed the doctor over to an observation room behind the door he came in from.  A nurse bent over her mom, tape in hand, and the doctor stood at the foot of the bed, hands in pockets.  She looked at the strange face on the bed.  That woman didn’t look like her mother—she was a stranger, a sick person. Her mom never got sick.

“Mom?”  Her voice, when it came out of her mouth, sounded so far away.  Her head was all cottony inside, her ears ringing with remembered words—a shadow—surgery—and she remembered that she wasn’t breathing, and let out her breath.  Her vision cleared, and her mother lay before her, arms extended, and Buffy crumpled in them.

She leaned up, finally.  “Mom?”

Joyce looked at her frightened daughter, determined to be strong.  “Everything will be fine, Buffy.  I’ll see you in a little while.”

“Okay.”  She felt too numb to cry.  “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

She watched them wheel her mom away through a swinging door.

She followed the doctor back to the lounge, and he hovered over her, asking questions she had no answer to.  She was confused and near tears when she felt a warm hand on her shoulder.  She turned to see Ben, that friendly intern.  He said something to the doctor, and led her over to a seat against the wall.

Ben was kind, she remembered that later.  Right now, she couldn’t think of anything.  She needed a new brain, or something, because this one was all messed up with too much of everything bouncing around.  She focused when he said, “—be unconscious for at least six or seven hours.”

“You mean—what?”

“Take a break.  Get out of here for a while, go for a walk.  Get away from this waiting room, this place for a minute.”

“Yeah.  A break.”  Her mind rushed, seeking an answer, a solution.  She thought of Willow and Tara, how powerful they were, and wondered if there was a magical solution to her mom’s illness.  “I think I will, Ben.  Thanks.”

She grabbed her coat, and ran all the way to the Magic Box, safety, and friends.

She burst through the door, panting, and they first thought that she had met up with the yet-unnamed super woman.

She looked at them--her family, her chosen family.  Some had been there all along.  Some were new to their mix.  And some, she thought wistfully, were absent all together.  Tears rolled down her cheeks unheeded as she looked at their stunned faces.

“It’s bad,” she said, moments before she felt the warmth and comfort of their arms.  As one, they all moved together, strong and united, and Buffy wondered for a moment what she had done to deserve their devotion.  They led her to the table, and Giles poured her a cup of tea, sweetened heavily, to stave off shock, as she began to tell them the extent of her mother’s illness.

She turned to Willow and Tara, and said, “Isn’t there a spell that you could do to…help her?  Make the tumor leave?  Some sort of potion, an incantation, something?”

“Buffy, not everything in life can be solved by magic,” Willow said, her face set in grim lines.  “There’s no guarantee that anything we did wouldn’t make things worse.”

“There are some things that are against natural laws.  This would be close to black magic, if it interferes with the karmic cycle,” Tara said.  Giles nodded in agreement, the rest of them sat and stared. 

“We have other considerations at this moment, Buffy.  We believe that the demon woman is going to attempt a ritual that will transform a reptile into a monster.”

“What?  What kind of monster?”

“We have deciphered some of the markings on a picture of the amulet.  It—well Anya—enlightened us on its use.”

“Khul was an extremely powerful priest in the Sobokites.  It was said that he put all of his power into an amulet that would transmogrify a cobra into a monster.”

“Okay.  So what do they use it for after they trans-mo—change it?”

“We’re not quite certain, yet.”

“Okay.  I’m off to the reptile house.  Yuck, I hate the way that place smells.”

“Buffy, are you--?”

She turned to face them, already halfway to the door.  “I have to do something right now.  I can’t help mom.  I can’t sit around.  At least I can kill something.”

“Buffy, that chick has kicked your ass—” Xander started.

“Thanks, Xan.  Feeling the love in this room.  I don’t need to kill her right now.  I just need to distract her.  You know how much the bad guys like to talk.”  She started for the door again.  “I need information, something for us to go on.  Maybe getting my ass kicked again will help me get what we need.”

“Buffy, she might kill you.”

She stopped at the door.  “Giles, she won’t kill me.  I have something that she wants, remember?  She won’t kill me until she has it.”

He opened his mouth, but she was already gone.

Running, again with the running.  Her feet pounded beneath her, echoed in her ears as she raced to the zoo.  Dodging, ducking, weaving, she made her way to the reptile house that seemed almost deserted.  Following the path around and deep inside, she heard a feminine voice ahead in the corridor, and paused before entering.

“O juicy Glorificus, this should not take a long time.”

“—Yes, now, chant—why do dark incantations have to be so freaking wordy?  Why can’t they just cut to the chase?”

“Like this?”  Buffy said, charging around the doorway.  She shoved the woman into the far wall, using her elbows, fists, and feet in a flurry of kicks and hits.  She tried knocking her head repeatedly against solid stone, and it didn’t even seem to phase her.  She twisted Buffy’s arm and wrenched her shoulder backward, and the Slayer moaned in pain.

“See, you just shouldn’t interrupt people’s important rituals, you know?  That’s rude, and completely useless.  And then you make me do all the work.  How rude.”  She tossed Buffy to one side and spoke to an urn sitting in the middle of the floor.  “Okay, rise, already, huh?”  She flipped her arm casually in the air, and the urn began to rock, then exploded, pottery shards flying like miniature missiles in every direction.  A huge cobra monster rose in a tower over the lumpy robed thing and the petite blondes.  Muscles corded his arms, intelligence filled his eyes, and he hissed at Glorificus.  She took two steps and thumped it on the nose.

“Hey, I’m the boss here.  Now, my pretty,” she said, caressing the cobra-man’s hood.  “Go find my Key.”

Buffy felt sick.  She barely had time to roll out of the way when the cobra sped by her.  She jumped to her feet and started after it, losing it before she got started.  She turned, and went back toward the Magic Box.  Information.  She finally had some information.

She burst through the door again.  “Giles—get Dawn.”

The words no more left her mouth when the door imploded behind her, and the monster was at her back.  She headed into the room, intent on escaping with Dawn through the back, when the monster stopped in front of Dawn.  She shrieked in horror, and the thing turned, crashing through the front window of the shop.

She ran to the weapons chest in the corner and grabbed a double-headed battle-axe.  “That thing was looking for the Key.  It’s on its way to tell her—who is named Glorificus, by the way.  We need to kill it.”

She headed out the door, the gang close behind.


Chapter 11

She was wrung out.

Emotionally, physically, mentally, she didn’t think that she could handle anything tonight.  Thank God for Xander and Anya.  Taking Dawn was a blessing, and she could use the time alone.

She sat in the house with a single light on, the darkness soothing her shattered nerves.  She listened to the ticking clock in the hall, the familiar creaks and sounds of a house.  She inhaled deeply, and smelled leather and tobacco.

“Spike,” she mouthed, and heard him step into the room. 

“Slayer,” he said, looking at her in the dark.  She looked tired.  “How are you holding up, love?  How is Joyce?”

“Mom made it through surgery fine.  I’m…okay.”

He moved closer to her, but stayed at arms' length, unsure of her mood.  “Is there anything that I can do?”

She sighed.  “Just…hold me.  Tell me that this will all be alright.”

He joined her on the couch, and picked her up bodily, curling her in his lap.  She rested her head on his shoulder, unable to cry, and listened to the beat of her own heart against his chest.  “Buffy—the doctors—are they good ones?”

“The best.”

He smoothed her hair, and said, “Then the best is being done.  That’s all they can do.”

They sat in the darkness together, curled against one another, lost in their own thoughts.  Finally, Buffy decided to break the silence.  “So, uh, tell me about this biting thing,” she said, touching the healing marks on her throat. 

“Well, uh….”  There was worry in his eyes; she could see it, feel it. 

“Spike, I need to know.”

“Well,” he started, his word halting and low, “The first time, it was just—“

“A fluke.”

“Yes.  Just a fluke.  Then, when you tasted my blood on my mouth, that made us…connect.  Now, every time we do it, it bonds us closer.  Not like a Sire and Childe, not like a minion, but more like—“

“A mated pair,” she said, her eyes widening in comprehension.  “That’s why—“

“—feelings are getting stronger—“

“I can see in your head—“

“—and you in mine, mine in yours—“

“—like—“

“—we’re—“

“Married!”  they said together, nearly breathless.

Spike rolled his eyes, and looked at her.  “Pet, I’m sorry.  This type of bond doesn’t happen very often, even among vampires.  Dru an’ me, well, we didn’t share a bloody bond like this.  She was my Sire, still is, and if she commands me with enough power, I would have to obey.  But with you—“

“It’s more like I want to do anything you asked me,” she picked up.  “Spike, I didn’t mean to chain you to me like this.  You should have a choice of who you love.”

“Oh, no, pet, the love is complete and of itself.  It has nothing to do with the bond.”

“Oh.  This is off-subjecty, but do you know your accent changes when you talk to me all serious?  You sound more like Giles, and less like a street thug.”

“I—I do not!” he said indignantly.  “That poncy bugger!  Bleedin’ ‘ell, Buffy!”

“Instant thug, just add water.”

He didn’t say anything, just glared at her in cold silence.  She looked everywhere but in his eyes.  “So—you, uh, love me….”

He slid his fingers into the silken curtain of her hair, cupping her head and centering her eyes on him.  “This isn’t a thing that I take lightly, love, nor should you cast it aside as toss-away—a vampire’s devotion is legendary.  Lasts until dust.”

“I’m not tossing anything.  Just wondering—how do you know?”

Confused, he looked at her.  “What do you mean, pet?”

“How do you know?”  Impatient, she jumped off his lap and began pacing furiously in her front room.  He watched her, mesmerized by the bounce of her hair, the curve of her cheek, the gentle sway of her curvaceous ass.  He suddenly registered that it was quiet, and she had stopped pacing and stood in front of him.  She was magnificent in her agitation, stunning him speechless as she waited impatiently for an answer to a question he hadn’t heard.

All he could do was grin.  “Sorry, love—you kind of distracted me.”

She squealed in outrage, and the next thing he knew he was pinned to the couch by a very annoyed Slayer.  She twisted and turned, trying to find a place to punch him. 

He wasn’t sure if she realized where she was at, or felt his body’s reaction to what she was doing, but suddenly her movements stopped, and she was looking into his eyes.  He could see half-formed tears swimming in her eyes, and he abruptly felt protective of her, and vowed to do anything in his powers to keep from hurting her.

“Buffy, what is it, love?”

“I said, how do know when it’s love?  What’s the definition?  How do you know if what you’re feeling is real?”

He chuckled as he arranged her into a more comfortable position for them both, with less pressure on his groin.  Smoothing her hair, he looked down at her where she sprawled over him, groins pressed together, and her ass resting on his thighs.  “Love burns, Buffy.  Love burns, and consumes, and ignites.  It heats your gut with passion and fire.  It immolates all feelings of self and your own needs, where the needs of your lover become greater than your own.”  His voice was bordering on musical, its rise and fall soothing as his words became almost dreamy.

“Love is yearning.  Not only to see that person, but also to do anything to make them happy, anything to achieve that special look they give you.  That touch, that one that makes them gasp and writhe.”  He looked down at her again, and his voice had an icy tone.  “Love is fire and passion and pain, all balled together, until you can’t tell one part from the other.  It makes you laugh and cry and want all at once.  It can make you bleed, inside and out, blood or tears.”

He just happened to catch the look in her eyes before she closed them in defense.  “I’ve never felt that.  Not how you describe it.”

“What about Captain Forehead?  Soldier Boy?  They didn’t make you—“

“My love for Angel was…pure.  You know that, and you know what happened, too, don’t you?  Riley?  Well, considering all the events of the past 26 hours, you really think Riley had it?  There was no spark.”

“And me?” he said, unable to keep his hope a secret.

“Too early to tell.”  She laid her head on his chest, hiding her face.

For once, he could smell the lie in her racing pulse and increased breathing.  “So, the jury’s still out.” 

“Yeah, doing that votey thing,” she said.

“Then, uh, maybe we could…?”

“We have to do something while we wait.”  She raised her head, and touched his mouth with her finger.  “Might as well be fun.”

She leaned forward and ran her tongue over his throat, followed by teeth.  She suddenly knew all Spike’s wants and needs and kinks, knew how to touch him, taste him, feel him.  It was a heady feeling, almost power, knowing exactly how to rock his world.  She felt nervous, afraid that her lack of experience was showing.  Especially next to a hundred years of experience.

“Oh, pet, never think you are less than perfect.”  He slid his hands over her skin, feeling how silken and heated she was against his palms.  Gooseflesh rose against his palms; a tremor shuddered through her.  “Buffy, my beauty, my pet.  Let me love you.”

“Yes.”  She surrendered with a single syllable.

She stood, and took his hand, leading him up the stairs and to her room.  Mutely, she stood next to the bed, demanding he make the next move with the look in her eyes.  He fell to his knees before her, raising her shirt and licking her stomach.  Skimming it over her shoulders, he ran his hands over all of her skin within his reach.  So hot.  So warm.  Her scent, surrounding him, enveloping him in her spell.  He nipped at her with his blunt teeth, then took her jeans between his teeth and yanked them open.  He cupped her breasts, teasing the nipples with his thumbs as he unzipped her with his teeth.  He could smell her juices, knew that she was already wet, already waiting for him.

He dragged her jeans off, and just tore through the white lacy panties.  He fumbled for a moment with the bra, then realized that it was a front hook, and dispensed with that nonsense as well.  He pulled her down and sat her on the edge of the bed, kneeling between her knees and preventing her from closing her legs.

He ravaged her mouth with teeth and tongue, until her lips were swollen and sensitive.  She groaned, throwing her head back, and he plundered her neck, tasting her copper.  He nipped at her fresh scar, barely closing his teeth, and she writhed against him, her quim staining his skin with her juices.  He breathed deep, already addicted to her smell, and touched her thighs, holding her still against him where she would ride. 

He traced her curves with his tongue, lingering on the tips of her breasts and the depression in her stomach.  He curled his tongue in her navel, then blew cool air across her stomach to see her squirm.  He sat back on his ass, and reached his hand out to touch her.  Her hair was soft against his palm.  He cupped her reverently, then, with lips and tongue, began to worship her.

She sat on the edge of the bed, and watched his face as he kissed her quim.  “Now, let’s take a look at your pretty pearl, pet.”

She arched her back, reveling in the sensation of his mouth on her, his tongue inside her as he licked her from front to back, side to side, inside out.  She felt disconnected from everything but him, his mouth caressing her and teasing her, daring her to let herself go, let herself fly.  She started to tense, and he looked up at her gently.  “I’ll catch you, pet—I won’t let you fall.” 

“There’s not far to fall, Spike.”  She gasped, pushing her hips forward to move against his face.  “My God, Spike, make me come.”

He reached inside her, touched her deep, pulling her over the edge by the skin of her teeth.  She grunted with each touch, arching herself against his hand, vibrating on his lips.  Her hands reached for him, and pulled him up on his knees, then he was in her, his cock buried deep, her hands grasping for purchase on his ass as he moved slowly in and out of her heat.  His cool skin both soothed her heat and excited it as they moved together, his cock stretching her, tight and wet against her against him and feeling one another at the same time.  Feelings she had his cock and he her quim and he was filling himself even as he was filling her and her complete release as she climbed screaming the waves of pleasure that filled her body and made her spasm against him into her with him as he began to come inside her heat his cool her cool his heat and they fell together biting and sucking each other’s lips until blood from both ran warm in their mouths and together they fell….

Chapter 12

Spike fell forward, and rested his head on her breasts, breathless and spent.  He listened to her heart racing in her chest, and smiled.  “Well.  I trust that doesn’t happen very often, does it, pet?”

She couldn’t move.  “Omigosh, Spike, what was that?”

“Bloody mind-blowing shag, that’s what it was, love.”  He looked into her face, surprise written all over his.  “That was a new one, even for me.”

“Huh.  Well.  Me too.”  She scooted back onto the bed, pulling him with her.  “Me too.  What was that?”

“I think that it was the bond, love.”  He settled himself between her legs.  “It was different than anything I have ever done, that’s for bleedin’ sure.”  He licked her mouth, and a shiver ran through them both.  “Loved it.  Love you.”

She didn’t answer; she reached up to kiss him instead, until both their heads were spinning.  “More, Spike.”  She clenched her muscles, and he sighed.  “I want you inside me.”

He chuckled.  “Was just there.  Hell, still am.  Bloody brilliant, it was.”

“No.  I mean, inside me.  Fangs and fucking.  Not just one or the other.”

He looked down at her, smoothing her hair.  He could feel her need, her desire for him.  It wasn’t love, he knew—but it was something.  He reached between them, touching her, and she jumped, burying her face in his neck, her inner muscles clenching around him like a small fist.  She worried the scar at the side of his neck between her teeth.  She could see how sex with him could be addictive.  No one had ever made her feel this hot, this needy. 

Arching, moving, flowing into and around one another, they danced seductively, hips rocking and straining, eyes locked, falling deeper into each other with every movement.  Soft sighs escaped her lips as he ground against her in tiny circular motions that had her throbbing and twitching in his arms as she tried to increase the pressure, move into him.  Kisses, sucking tongues, fingers seeking, hands moving…it all blurred together as they started moving faster together, bodies crashing, straining toward the ultimate crescendo.

He slipped into game face, then, and nibbled at the side of her neck, scraping her flesh with his fangs.  She moved her head to the side, stretching her neck to give him better access, and he nipped into her, sliding his fangs into her skin like a knife into warm butter.  Her blood scorched his mouth, it was so hot, and he watched tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes as she endeavored to pull him closer.  She felt herself building to another incredible orgasm, and let herself loose, let her control go.  She leaned forward, and gripped his neck in her teeth, savaging his throat until blood ran freely between them.  Hungrily, she swallowed, her groin tightening until she felt like she would snap, then she was falling again.  Falling with him.  Falling for him. 

She gasped, still languorous from the lovemaking, but frightened of the revelation she had just beheld.  She was falling in love with Spike?  Unimaginable came to mind at first.  Then, dangerous.    Lips curving into a smile, she thought about what loving Spike would mean.

The Scoobies would never approve.  Xander would be the most vocal, she decided, although it seemed unfair, since Anya was an ex-demon.  Spike had a chip, and didn’t eat people anymore.  So, how was that different?  Willow?  Willow didn’t really have any room to throw stones either.  Tara was sweet, but personally, Buffy thought, I don’t understand the whole gay thing.  That only left Giles.

Then again, Giles already knew, so that obstacle was effectively out of the way. 

She turned her head to look at the man next to her in bed.  She knew he wasn’t sleeping, but laying close to her, absorbing her warmth and listening to her heartbeat.  Surreptitiously, she reached her hand up to touch the scar tissue building up on her neck.  It was a little sore, but it still sent a shiver through her when she touched it, no matter how lightly. 

She thought about the bond, willed herself to let it flow between them and then something…opened, and she felt him, all of him in a blinding glory of passion and emotion.  He thought of her uppermost in his mind, his love scintillating in its brilliance as she looked closely at him.  Dawnie and Mom, he cares a great deal about them too, she realized.  She probed a bit deeper, and realized belatedly that he was looking at her with those bright blue eyes that could bore to her soul.

“What ya looking at, pet?” he said lazily, one arm behind his head, the other hand stroking her arm.

“It’ll make your ego puff up, but I was laying here thinking about how beautiful you are.”

“’M not beautiful, Buffy.”

“Yes, you are.  From head to toe.”

He rolled onto his side.  “Beautiful is a word for the ladies.  Men can’t be beautiful.”

“They can when they look like you.”  She rolled to face him, and fingered the errant curls that fell on his forehead.  “Why do you slick your hair back like that?  It’s so…nice, when it’s loose and curly.”

“Don’t know.  Suppose it goes with the Big Bad image.”

“Will you wear it like this?  For me?  When we’re alone?”

He chewed his lip for a moment, then his eyes softened.  “Anything for you, pet.  But you were doing more than just thinking, weren’t you?  You were looking into my head.”

She pulled back, surprised, but pretended offense.  “I can’t believe that you would accuse me of that.  I would never….”

“Ah, but you did, Slayer.  I felt it.”  He opened himself then, and said directly, mind to mind *You would feel it to, if I did it to you.  And if we both open up, relax and let it be, we can do this. *

This was new.  *So, like now I can read your mind and you can read mine? *

*Yeah.  What do you think? *

*I don’t know yet.  Once again, no jury, still voting. *  She closed her eyes, and said, “Promise me you won’t do that without telling me first.  Okay?  Just say something, like, Buffy, we need to talk.”

“All right, pet.  Don’t want to do anything to upset you.”

A secretive smile curled her lips, and she stretched her arms above her head.  “Well, then, I am really getting upset at the distance between us right now, Spike.”

He started to speak, then twigged on what she was saying.  “Oh, so you want me closer to you?”  He scooted over in the bed and twined his legs over hers.  “Is that better?”

“I think so.”

He ran his hands up her side to cup her breast, teasing the nipple with his thumb.  “Is that close enough?”

“Oh, no.  Not nearly close enough yet.”

He moved to lie on top of her, and ran his tongue sensuously down her neck.  “How about that, pet?”

“You’re getting warmer.  Much warmer.”  He hovered above her, his lips millimeters from hers, and she said, “That’s just right,” then their mouths were fused together in fiery passion.  She absentmindedly recalled what Spike had just said to her earlier about love being fire.  This was fire—it was burning her soul, thawing her heart.  She never let anyone get close to her, always kept herself apart from the world and everyone in it.  She felt that protection slipping away as he got closer to her, stealing her breath with his kisses, her warmth from her body, and her heart with his tenderness and loving behavior.

She wanted to tell him, wanted him to know that he was more than just a fuck buddy, to be crude about it, but the words stuck in her throat and she couldn’t speak.  She clamped down on her feelings, knowing that now wasn’t the time, when things were so new and they were still feeling their way around this sudden relationship, but there was an aching need inside her to say something.

“Spike…I love it when you touch me.”

“Oh you do, pet.  Tell me more.”

“I like it when you touch my…oh, Spike, I can’t.”

“Tell me what to do, pet.  Tell me what will please you.  Until you do, I’m not going to do a bleeding thing.”

“I like it when you…take my breasts in your hands…yes, like that…and you…touch the…my nipples…ahh, yes…and when you put your mouth on me…oh, there….”

True to his word, Spike followed her every direction.  He had all the time and a hundred years of patience.  He wanted this night to be memorable.  He wanted the Slayer to be ruined for anyone else, man or vampire or demon. 

She was breathless, and it was her own fault.  She couldn’t stop herself from talking.  Didn’t want this exquisite pleasure to end.  “Aah, uh, where was I….  My p—what do you call it?”

“Mmm, personally, I call it my chalice.  It’s never dry, and it holds the sweetest nectar….”he said, then buried his nose to cherish her scent from the source.  “I love the way you smell, Buffy.  Like sunlight, and heat, and sex, and blood, and woman, and love, and…” He trailed off, knowing he revealed too much, but she was too lost in her own feelings to hear the love in his voice.  She felt the vibration of his voice against her pelvic bone, and arched into the burr of his mouth on her quim.

“Oh, there…that is…oh…you…it…Spike…nobody…ever…I….”  She was babbling, and she knew it, but there were no words for the way his cool tongue felt on the heat bubbling inside her, no way for her to tell him that past lovers and thoughtless remarks made her so self-conscious of him being there, but the way it made her bones all waxy and her vision hazy, she couldn’t tell him no.  He lapped at her slowly, from bottom to top, with just the right pressure and just the right speed, and she looked down at his head, silver in the darkness, where it pressed between her thighs.  The sight alone turned her on, and she gushed a huge amount of wetness, she could feel it.  It flooded his mouth, and he swallowed convulsively, straining to take it all in. 

He slipped his finger inside her heated tunnel, and mouthed her clit with his lips and he moved it slowly in and out, his knuckle pressing that special spot inside of her.  When she moaned and begged for more, he slid in another digit, followed shortly by a third.  She pistoned her hips, trying to get him to increase his speed, but he held to his dogged pace until he knew that she was teetering on the edge.  Slowly and carefully, he inserted his pinkie in her virgin ass, and watched her jump a foot off the bed as it sent lightning bolts through her nervous system and directly to her clit. 

She started coming the second he did that.  When he started to move his hand again, another burst over her in a wave.  Every touch, every movement sent a shock wave through her as she came repeatedly, flooding his hand with her juices.  He put his mouth on her clit, and started sucking it gently, teasing it with his tongue. 

He felt her dig her heels into the mattress as she forced herself against his mouth, still babbling.  He felt her tense beneath his lips, then felt her fall, her body loose and lax as she shuddered with her climax.

He ran his tongue up her body, and his cock glided into her hot, sweet depths.  He stroked her face, pushing her hair back, and looked deep into those huge, hazel eyes that he was getting to know so well.  She threw her arms around his neck, pulling him to her and tasting her on his lips when she kissed him.  Boldly, she stuck her tongue in his mouth like he did hers, exploring it, tasting him as she moved with him.  She clenched her inner muscles, and was gratified when he moaned aloud.  He moved slowly, carefully, until she couldn’t take any more.

“Spike?”

“Buffy?”

“I’m not fragile.  I can take it.”

He took her at her word.  He began pounding into her, fast, hard, and deep.  Then she was curling up, double, and putting her ankles on his shoulders, exposed her entire fanny to his body’s invasion.  He shagged her solidly, staring into her eyes, exposing himself and his feelings to her as he did.  Suddenly afraid, she pulled him down into a punishing kiss, and wrapped her legs around his waist, clenching her muscles until she felt his body tense against her.  She urged his mouth toward her neck, and he accepted her wordless offering, slipping into game face and sliding his fangs into her waiting flesh.  She closed her eyes and rode the waves of his orgasm, then joined him in ecstasy as she bit down on his neck, reopening the marks she had made earlier, and each pull on her neck, and returned pull on his sent tiny shocks through their conjoined bodies and minds.  Blood magick, she thought.  Sex magick, he thought back.  He closed his eyes, his mouth still on her throat, and together, they fell asleep.

Chapter 13

Spike walked home in the early morning dark, his mind centered firmly on the picturesque tableau he’d just left.  Buffy, naked, sheet pooled around her hips as she reached for him, begging him not to leave her.  He hated to leave, especially with the begging, but things like that develop into habits….

This bond between them…he never expected it to begin with, now he reached within and found it, caressed it with his mind.  Buffy was asleep—he could feel her dreaming in the pre-dawn hours, sense her tranquility as he entered his crypt. 

This connection.  There was a niggling sense of familiarity about it.  Something he should remember but couldn’t.  Wracking his brain, he drank some blood straight from the fridge, the laid down on the sarcophagus to rest for the day and wait for Buffy.

He was nearly asleep when it hit him, and he sat straight up, his mind a maelstrom of confusion, trepidation, and fear. 

He hadn’t said the words aloud, but the effect was the same.

He had claimed her.

~*~

A few days later, Buffy was out patrolling again, her mind finally at ease.  Her mom had come out of surgery fine, her tumor completely removed.  Riley was gone—he had been hanging with the commandos again, and left shortly after another quick confrontational chat with Buffy.  She flashed, for a moment, back to their conversation.

“Spike is a dangerous killer, Buffy.  A hostile.  And you want to date him?”

“It shouldn’t matter to you anyway.  We’re done.”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt, but it’s too late for that, isn’t it.”  He reached out, and yanked her collar to one side, exposing old scars and new wounds on her neck.  “How you can let him bite you….”

“No worse than you!  You and your vampire whores!  How much is it, then to have one take you like that?”  she said, jerking her chin at his arm.

“They needed me—you didn’t.  You never need anyone.”  Saying that, he left. 

That isn’t true, she thought.  I need Spike.  She thought of him, and saw him in her minds’ eye, sitting on the bed with candles all around him, reading an old leatherbound book.  Across the miles, he felt her, and raised his head as if to look straight at her.  There was a look in his eyes…guilt.  He felt guilty about something.  It rolled off of him in waves.  She quickly forgot about it when she cut through an alley and found a vamp about to feed off a sobbing teenager.

She lunged at him, and knocked vamp and victim to the ground.  “Run!”  she yelled, then turned to the vamp, pummeling him with her fists as she heard the footsteps fading in the distance.

The vampire fought, but not aggressively.  She paused, mid-swing, and put her hands on her hips.  “What is wrong with you?  Hello, Slayer here.”

“Slayer?  But you can’t…your Spike’s….”

“Spike’s what?”  she said, annoyed.

“Spike’s mate.  If I hurt you…I can see it….”

“Okay, well…see this instead.”  She staked him, and moved on, puzzling over his words.

It wasn’t until after the third vamp stopped fighting and passively allowed her to stake him that she started really thinking.

After the fifth vampire literally folded his hands and presented him her chest, she headed to Spike’s crypt.

~*~

She found him just as she’d seen him, sprawled on the bed with a book in his hand.  He looked up, and put the book to the side, ready to face whatever she had to say.  “Spike, I think there’s something you need to tell me.  About this bond of ours.”

“I didn’t intend….”

“I know.”  Her voice was soft.  He realized that she was really pissed.  “Spill it, Spike.”

“The blood thing…I remembered…its part of a vampire ritual…for mates….”

“Okay, we figured that out.”

“Well, its called…claiming.  It…binds the couple, forever.  Until dust.  It protects each of them against other vampires who would dominate them.”

She sat down on the side of the bed.  “Now, my night makes sense.”

“What do you mean?”

“Every vampire that I staked tonight let me stake him.  The last one even folded his hands in his lap.  They all kept saying they could feel you on me…so does that mean the whole demon world knows this?”

“Probably.  Buffy, I’m sorry….”

“Quit apologizing.  It’s not like you planned this.  You didn’t plan this, did you?”

He met her suspicious look head on.  “No, pet, I didn’t.  I didn’t even remember what it was; it’s been so long since I saw a claimed pair.  About thirty years or so.  And it wasn’t a slayer/vampire mating, it was just two vamps.”

“What happens if one of us…dies?”

He looked at her shocked, and realized she was thinking not of him, but herself.  Her death.  He’d almost forgotten.  He got quiet and looked at his hands dangling between his legs.  “Don’t know, pet.  Could be the survivor would lose their mind.  Could be they would die.  Never saw anything like this before, not with a slayer.  With a human—usually they waste away, die, if something happens to the vampire half.”  He turned to her, and took her hands.  “Like I said, pet, this doesn’t happen very often.  Vampires tend to be a social lot, with no boundaries.  What is life but sex and food and mayhem?  We tend to concentrate on all of them, not used to it as a singularity.”

“So vampires are all sluts?  They sleep with anyone?”

“Whoever takes their fancy, pet.  Most times.”

“I see.”  Pause.  “Do you want to sleep with other people?”

“Buffy, no!  Didn’t you understand what I just told you?  This is life, or unlife long.  This is protection.  This is…can be, a tool.  Don’t….”

“Don’t what?  Don’t think about being married to a vampire, the thing that I am supposed to slay?  Don’t think that if he dies, I will too.  Or vice versa.  Don’t think about the reactions I’ll get from my friends, my Watcher, the Council, if they found out?  Don’t think about all the things I should be?  I have freely given myself to a master vampire, let him drink my blood, and let him mark me.  What the hell was I thinking?”

“Buffy, don’t….”

“Don’t what.  Don’t come to my senses?  Don’t realize what a mistake I’ve made?  Don’t tell you things you don’t want to hear, Spike?  I can’t tell you what you want to hear right now.  Maybe never.”  She pulled her hands out of his, and he reached for her.  She punched him between the eyes, knocked him backward onto the bed.  “Here’s some don’ts for you now.  Don’t come to my house unless you have a purpose there, like helping me slay or patrol.  Don’t try to touch me, ever again.  Don’t tell me you love me.  I don’t want to hear it.  Don’t check in on my head, because I’m going to Giles and finding out how to counteract this claiming thing.”

“You can’t.  It’s permanent.”

“Not for me.”  Her thunder spent, she looked at him sadly.  “I trusted you.  For a minute, I let down my guard, and I trusted you.  I won’t make that mistake again.”  She climbed the ladder, and paused at the top.  “You should have told me.”

“Buffy,” he started, his voice fading as he realized she was already out of hearing.  “I did.”


Chapter 14

Buffy went to the Magic Box, and pulled Giles aside.  “Giles, what do you know about vampire claiming rituals?”

“Well, er, they are a permanent bond between a vampire and his or her chosen mate, and there are very specific words that are said and things done, we’re really not certain what.  That is usually a very well-kept secret.”

“Believe me, Giles, we need to find out and figure out how to break it.  As soon as possible.  Can we?”

Giles removed his glasses, cleaning them with his handkerchief.  “Buffy, are you losing focus?  There are other more important things for us to be concerned with.  Glory, for example.  My impending departure for England.  The Council.  Dawn.  What happened that has you in such a dither?”

“Spike claimed me.  He says that I claimed him too, but I don’t remember any ritual or any words.  Just…an exchange of body fluids.”

“Oh dear.” 

“He says that if anything happens to either one of us, we could both die.  Is that true?”

“I have read something to that effect in the Chronicles.”  He replaced his glasses.  “So, that is what to call your mystical bond with Spike?  Claiming?”

“I guess.”  She tossed herself down on the bench, disgusted with herself and the whole situation.  “I…said some pretty rotten things to him.  Forbid him to come near me, you know, that sort of thing.  Bad part is, Giles, I still need his help.  Glory is not going to be an easy fight, no matter what kind of demon she is.” 

“I know, Buffy.  You have to decide if the good outweighs the bad.  If the advantages the—claim gives you is worth the price of it.”

“The price?”  She let out a short, bitter laugh.  “Bound to Spike until dust?  That’s a mighty large price to pay, if you ask me.”

“This is a decision that only you can make, Buffy.  I cannot help you with this. It is—too personal.”

Disgusted, Buffy worked on the bag for a while, punching out her thoughts with each whack of the bag.  He lied to her!  He let her think that this was just some simple side effect of the bloodplay.  Actually, he didn’t, she corrected in her mind.  He didn’t know what was happening anymore than she or Giles had.  And he did tell her, when he figured it out. 

This seemed to hurt worse than Riley leaving did.  She felt betrayed by both men, but in completely different ways.  Riley shared something special with a vampire.  Well, uh, so was she.  And he left.  Thank God. At least Riley left, and she didn’t have to look at him everyday.  Spike…well, he would never leave her alone. Spike was still here…he wasn’t leaving.  She knew that.  Intellectually, she also knew that he really hadn’t betrayed her.

And he loved her.  He really did, she could feel it.  When she let it, she could feel it, almost glowing inside her.  It was a pretty neat feeling, and she wondered if Spike felt her love the same way.

Love!?  That couldn’t be right, she didn’t just think that.  She—it was too soon for her to love anyone.  She just couldn’t love Spike.  Not yet.  Well, the sex was great, better than great, but she couldn’t see Spike in a commitment with anyone, especially her.  All he wanted to do was kill her.

But he didn’t want to kill her anymore, she told herself.  He had said it himself.  He wanted to kiss her, love her, and worship her…that was of the good.  And he has the chip, so he couldn’t kill me if he wanted to.  And the way he kissed….

For some reason, all her thoughts kept drifting back to the sexual in nature.  She gritted her teeth and clamped down on the bond, shutting him out.  She felt his regret and sorrow milliseconds before it closed, and she was once more alone in her head.   She frowned.  She didn’t like this feeling anymore, of being alone.  She had always been alone, always felt like she had to be, to protect the others.  Spike…Spike didn’t need protecting.  He could fight side by side with her, and she wouldn’t trip up if something knocked him down.  She was always afraid when the Scoobies patrolled with her.  Afraid one of them would be hurt, and it would be her fault.  This was the closest thing to having another Slayer, she thought, missing Faith for a millisecond. 

And now she didn’t have to be alone.  She could have a partner.  Someone to fight with.  Have fun with.  Love.  She knew that out of all the barriers put in their way, the biggest one of all would be herself.  Her mother had told her once, a long time ago, that she was her own worst enemy.  She tended to agree with her, especially now.

She thought about him, just for a moment, and allowed the bond to open.  He was crying.  That shocked her.  More shocking was Spike shoving her viciously out of his mind and slamming it closed behind her.

She crumpled to her knees and sobbed into her hands.  She couldn’t tell herself that this wasn’t something she wanted; she did want this, more than anything.  She wanted to be with Spike, in all senses of the word.  I’ll let him stew for a few days, she thought, and then I’ll…we’ll…maybe we can talk. 

She decided to go home, and talk to her mom.

~*~


Spike dashed the useless tears away from his eyes, and stared at the ceiling over the sarcophagus.  So the stupid bint had caught him crying, had she?  Hope she got an eyeful, she’ll never see that again, he thought to himself.  He sat there, bourbon bottle in his hand, thinking about the glimpse of heaven he had seen.

Why couldn’t she see that they were the perfect match?  It amazed him, sometimes, the way that she could turn her feelings on and off.  He could feel the loneliness eating her up in that small crack she’d opened in her shell.  He was ashamed of his childish behavior, shutting her out like that, but she had to understand, he didn’t have the emotional control that she evidently did.  All he knew, all he felt, all he was, he had exposed to her, if she just had the wrinklies to look.  There was no lies, no hiding, no deception left, he had taken that out of the equation between them.  What was left was pure honesty, blunt and ugly as it was.  He couldn’t hurt her, or her family, or her friends; everyone that mattered to her mattered to him as well. 

He felt more isolated than ever, at this moment.  He couldn’t talk to Buffy.  The Scoobies were out of the question, and so was Dawn.  He doubted that Rupert would give him the time of day.  The only person he had left that he trusted was Joyce. 

He grabbed his duster, and jumped into the cavern below his crypt.  As he made his way through the tunnels to the gallery, he wondered where Buffy was, and what she was doing.

~*~

Joyce looked at Spike in the dim light in the back room of the gallery.  “Spike, I don’t know what to say….”  She reached, touching his folded hands with one of hers.  “Buffy has always been very head-strong.”  She rolled her eyes, and looked away for a moment.  “When Hank and I divorced…she was convinced that she was the cause.  He had…never been a good husband.  The problems with Buffy gave him an excuse.  Since then, she shuts herself down, pushes people away when they get too close to seeing that she isn’t perfect.  My best guess is she feels she needs to protect them and herself.”

“Joyce, do you understand the nature of the bond—the claim?  I know the gel—inside and out.  We can feel each other.  We know each other’s pain.  And joy.  It can open up so much, everything, in fact.  All the good, all the bad, everything rolled into one.”

Joyce nodded.  “I understand, Spike.  And I think that it is a good thing.  For both of you.  You’ve been alone for nearly two years now.  I’ve seen changes in you.  And Spike, my little girl needs someone like you at her back, even if she doesn’t know it.  Especially in the days to come.  I don’t pretend to know the future, but I know that Buffy needs someone she can count on, someone she can trust, and I just don’t get the feeling that she has that.  She isolates herself more and more these days, compartmentalizes everything in her life.  She needs a touchstone that will always be there.” 

“I can be that, and more, Joyce.  But only if she lets me.”  He drank the rest of the cocoa in front of him, and stood.  “I love her.  I will always love her.  I will always protect her, you can count on that.”

She stood, and moved to stand in front of him, looking up at him.  “I know, and I do.”  Impulsively, she hugged him.  “Goodnight, Spike.”

He left, coat swinging in the night air.

~*~

“You told him what?”

“I told him not to give up on you.  Was that the wrong thing to say?”

“You told a bloodthirsty vampire not to give up on me?  Mom, what were you thinking?”  Buffy rounded the island in the center of the kitchen, heading to the fridge.  “Mom, Spike and I…we just…Mom, he claimed me.”

“I know.”

She turned, eyes wide.  “He told you about that too?  Well, what did he keep secret?”  A lot, I hope, she thought.  “Mom, that means that he can look inside my head anytime, did he tell you that?”

“Yes, honey, he told me all about it.  I think that you need someone like Spike in your corner, that’s all.  He’s strong, he’s intelligent, he’s resourceful.  He could do a lot for you, if you would let him.”

Yeah, I’ll bet he could, Buffy thought to herself.  “I just can’t believe he came to you for comfort after I broke up with him.”

“He didn’t need me for comfort, Buffy.  He needed someone to tell him that what he did, and what he feels for you are valid.  He shouldn’t have had to come to me, but I guess he felt I was the only one he could turn to.”

I’m the Vampire Slayer, she’s the Vampire Counselor.  Buffy suppressed a giggle, knowing her sense of humor would not be appreciated.  “Okay, so what else?”

“Buffy, I am not going to betray the confidences that Spike shared with me.  You know me better than that.”

“Mom!”

“Enough.  I’m going to bed.  I had a long day….”  Her mother trailed off, a hand to her forehead.  “Sleep well, honey.”

“’Night, Mom.”  She watched her mom climb the stairs, then slipped on her jacket, deciding to do a quick patrol before going to bed.


Chapter 15

The Council of Watchers came, saw, and left.  Irritating, but necessary.  Now she knew who Glorificus was.  Trouble was, she didn’t know how to kill her.  No clue. Clueless.  How in the world could you kill a god?  The Council seemed to think that she couldn’t be killed, unless she was in her human prison.  But, they were quick to remind Buffy, she could not kill a human, even if it imprisoned a hellgod.  Damn it. 

The Council had interviewed Spike, but other than a few jabs, he didn’t share their unique relationship with them, thank God.  She would have hated to explain how she became bonded to a vampire as notorious as Spike.  Still, he really had kept his distance, only showing up when there was a safe amount of people around to protect them both from their unruly desires.  Even then, with troll gods and robots, she still found herself wanting him, needing him.  Missing him, more than she could ever say aloud, and more than she would ever admit.

Especially now.

She tried not to think of birthdays.  They tended to turn out badly, no matter what she tried.  And it seemed like she was always alone on her birthday, or the next morning.  Another birthday meant she survived her calling for another year; then again, would she see another?  She understood Spike’s lesson now—she sometimes felt like she did have a death wish, going out night after night looking for trouble.  As if she didn’t have enough at home.


Mom wanted to have a party.  An attempt at normalcy, she guessed.  Like her life had ever been normal.  She really didn’t want it, was against it at first, but Willow talked her down from the ledge and kept her from having the wiggins.  She did, however, tell her mom not to invite Spike, under any circumstances.  She didn’t need him there to mixey-up her feelings all over again.  She had managed to work up a defiant disgust when it came to him, and she knew that she could maintain it if she just didn’t have to see him.

She finally decided it was time to tell the Scoobies about the Key.  If they were putting their asses on the line for her, with the Council and Glory both, they had the right to know.  They were as put off as she was, only they couldn’t hide it as well.  She had a little more practice at it, hiding her feelings.  She’d been practicing for years. 

The hair rose on the back of her neck, and she sniffed the air.  She could smell him.  He was nearby.  She willed herself to stay in the house, not step out for a breath of air.  Her gut clenched in sudden nausea, and she went to the bathroom, splashing cold water on her heated cheeks.  She felt hot, flushed, and looked closely at the pinkening cheeks in the mirror above the sink.  Deep in her eyes, she saw a flash of azure blue, and she screwed them shut tightly, willing him to stop. 

She opened her eyes, and thankfully, the blue had disappeared.  They looked strange to her, flat and lifeless without it.

~*~

Later, after Dawn’s meltdown, and the party’s breakup, she sent her mom off to bed and went on patrol. 

She wandered aimlessly through one cemetery after another, just thinking.  She seemed to be thinking a lot, these last few days, about her, and Spike, and what was, and what could be.  Her mind spun in circles around the good and bad of the situation, the pros and cons, the black and white of it.  There was no one for her to talk to.  No one to bounce things off of.  Just her own mind, whirling dervishly and distracting her from everything else. 

Spike trawled the cemetery, looking for something to kick.  Anything to get his frustration out, stop this feeling of helplessness that pervaded his psyche.  He heard a crack, saw a hand protrude from the ground, and had his stake in his hand before he could even say bloody hell.  Stabbing downward, the vamp that was trying to rise dusted before his head cleared the earth.

Another, and another, and the cycle continued.  He was merciless.  He ran across a demon, and had him pinned with a piece of wrought iron under his chin, when he heard a movement behind him.

“Spike, what are you doing?”

He looked up, and the demon squirmed under him.  “Buffy.  Didn’t know that you would be patrolling, especially tonight.  Just out doing a little cleanup.  How about you?”

“Well, beyond the fact that slaying is my gig, I’ve been following you.  You really have some issues, don’t you?”

He finished the demon off, and stood, dusting his hands off on his pants.  “What?  Issues?  What issues?”

“No, no, no, Mr. Passive-aggressive.  You cannot answer my question with a question.  What’s wrong?  Why are you all, Mr. Kill-Em-Before-They-Clear-Dirt?”

He started to walk away, and she hurried to catch up with him.  “Just doing the job, Buffy.  Just trying to help out.  You know?”

“Right.”  She stumbled over a broken tombstone, and he was there to catch her.  She felt heat in her cheeks, and hurriedly tore herself from his hands.  “Sorry.  Clumsy of me.”

“Its ok, love.  Always glad to lend a hand.”

They walked together in silence.  Crickets chirruped in the bushes surrounding the graveyard.  A fingernail of moonslice rose over the east side of Sunnydale, orange in the haze.  Buffy watched Spike out of the corner of her eye, not willing to give him the satisfaction of knowing that his brief touch had sent shivers through her from head to toe.  She saw him reach inside his trenchcoat, and bring out his flask.  He took a drink, then offered it to her.   

“A thousand buckets of no.  Trying to get me drunk, Spike?  That won’t help.”  She watched him take another drink, then put the flask back inside his coat.

“Sometimes, false courage is better than real courage.”

“What do you need courage for?”

He stalked in silence, then, when she had given up hope, his voice echoed softly in the darkness.  “Yeah, what do I need courage for?  I’m the big bad.  Nobody messes with me.  Nobody except the Slayer.  And she’s not trying to kill me quickly, so what the bloody hell do I need any courage for?”

“Quickly?  What do you mean by quickly?”

He stopped in front of her.  His face, sculpted by shadows, half hidden, but the raw pain on the surface stopped his heart.  “This—“ he said, gesturing around him.  “This is killing me.  To see, and not touch.  To want, and not have.  To have had you with me, inside me, and now you slam the door in my face.  This is killing me.  The stake would have been more humane.  Even a dull table leg would be, compared to this.”

He turned his back on her, and said, “If it’s all the same to you, love, I think that I’ll head back to my grave.  You’re out fighting the good fight, so I’m not needed, or required.”

He didn’t wait for her to say anything, just walked away.  She watched him go, wished that she could follow, but there lay the path of destruction.  She knew that.  Sure, she did.

Dejected and depressed, she turned toward home, and another sleepless night.


Chapter 16

She was on patrol again. 

She had taken Dawn home from the hospital, put her to bed, and reassured her mother that things would be okay.  At least, she hoped that they would.  She had to get out of there and away from it all if she wanted to stay sane.

She found herself on the familiar trek to Spike’s crypt.  Her feet carried her ploddingly along, even after she commanded herself to turn around.  She gave a mental shrug, and figured that they worked together fine tonight, she should be able to handle his presence.

She waited outside, knowing that he could feel her.  When he didn’t come to the door, she finally knocked, the hollow echo hurting her increasingly sensitive ears. 

When he finally opened the door, she could tell that he had been drinking, but not drunk.  He leaned against the edge, and studied her from the shadows.  “Can I talk to you?” she said.

He noted the nervous tone of her voice, and opened the door slightly wider.  “Anything for the Slayer,” he said sarcastically.  She waited for him to move, then finally squeezed by him when he stood still, their bodies brushing as she passed.  She heard his sharp hiss, and felt him move away from her.  Her heart froze in her chest.

“I—I came to tell you thank you.  For helping us find Dawn last night.  You didn’t have to.”

“Yes, I did.”  He paused to light a cigarette.  “The Bit matters quite a bit to me.  I didn’t want Glory to get her hands on her, no more’n you did.”

“I know.”  She looked down at the floor, her hair a curtain around her face.  “Spike, I’m sorry.  I should have told you about Dawn and the Key.  I shouldn’t have kept it from you too.”  She looked up, shrugging her jacket off.  “I have been so messed up lately.  This thing with you and me.  Dawn.  The Council.  Glory.”

“I know.  I can still feel you, even if you do shut me out most of the time.”

She turned, walked away from him.  “I know.  I still feel you too.”  She turned to face him.  “Spike, this just isn’t the time.  I have to—you know what I have to do.  I can’t let myself get lost in you.  There’s too much at stake.”

He was across the room in a heartbeat.  He gripped her upper arms, forcing her to look into his face.  “Buffy, I can help.  I want to.”

She leaned her head against his chest weakly.  “I know, Spike, I do.  But I can’t.  Do you think that this isn’t killing me?  Close enough to touch, but so far away from you.  I shouldn’t have come here.  I thought….”

“Thought what?  We could be friends?”  He laughed, a bitter bark.  “Right.  And everything is blood and peaches.  That’ll never happen, Slayer.  We’re either fucking or fighting, and right now, we’re fighting.  So what you want, can’t be.  Not in the cards, love.” 

“I don’t want to fight.”

“Neither do I.”  He pulled her to him, crushed her mouth to his, and crumbled all her carefully erected defenses against him.

She clutched at his coat lapels as he ravaged her mouth, searching its recesses with his tongue in long, slow sweeps.  He grabbed her ass, and pulled her against his full length, wrapping her in his arms and pinioning her against him.  She ground her pelvis against him, need thundering through her veins and desire shooting through her like lightening. With one hand, he grabbed the blanket that lay nearby, and threw it, then the two of them to the floor of the crypt.

She rolled him over to straddle him, leaning up to rip his shirt off his body.  She ran her hands over his cool flesh, feeling the contours of muscle beneath skin, and made him gasp when she raked his nipples with her nails.  She moved downward, and ripped his jeans open, buttons flying, reaching inside to grab his cock.  It was only partially erect until she took his full length into the heat of her mouth, then he started to moan as she tongued him from top to bottom.  She raked his scrotum with her nails, and he shouted out loud, so she did it again. 

He watched in wonder as she began to swallow his entire length, sucking earnestly while she concentrated to relax her throat.  He felt her lips encircle the base of his cock, her throat grasping its length, then she slid her mouth off him, over him, tongue laving the cool velvety head and the satiny skin beneath.  He groaned, and grabbed for her, but she was quicker than he was. 

She danced away from his grasping hands, and stood, pulling her pants off over her boots.  Just as quickly as she was gone, she was back, and slammed her pelvis against him, burying his entire cock deep inside her dripping quim. 

She waited a moment, to get used to being filled so full, then slowly rocked her hips as she rippled her internal muscles.  Spike gripped her hips, and she grabbed his hands and slammed them to the ground, pinning them under her knees.  She roiled on top of him, grinding herself against him, eyes closed.  As her passion increased, so did her speed, until she was breathless with effort and close to coming.

“Spike…I need…make me come…please….”

“Let me go, love.”  She did, raising her knees, and he threw her over onto her back.  She locked her legs around his waist, grinding and arching against him.  He drove himself into her, ramming into her, their flesh slapping wetly together in the silence of the tomb.  He held her close as he moved, and she tore into him with teeth and nails, blood rich on the air.  He slipped into game face, and clamped down on the softness of her neck as he drove them both over the edge.  Their orgasm grew exponentially until it was out of control, rippling from one to the other in a constant wave as blood stained their mouths, opening the bond. 

He mumbled against her neck, into his quickly healing fang marks.  “Mine.”

The air around them was electric with the blood magick.  Buffy knew that something subtle had happened, but she had been too immersed in other things to hear him.  Angrily, she shoved him off of her, and got to her feet. 

“You couldn’t just take it for what it was, could you?  You had to pull some freaky vampire bullshit and change it again.  Spike, why couldn’t you leave well enough alone?”  She pulled on her pants, and tossed her hair over his newest bite.  “You selfish bastard.  You never even thought enough of me to ask me if I wanted this, did you?  I should have never come here.  I should have never expected that you and I could be anything but…friendly enemies.  I should have known you wouldn’t change.  You’re still evil, and always will be, won’t you?”

She pivoted, and left the crypt, but his voice drifted into her mind, following her home.

You’re mine now, pet.  Make no mistake.  I’m inside your skin now, and you’ll never be completely done with me.  I will love you, and someday, you’ll love me back.  I know you, Buffy.  Inside and out, I know you now.

She raced upstairs, threw herself in bed, and put the pillow over her head in a futile effort to shut him out.

~*~


Buffy knew that something was happening.

Spike hadn’t tried the bond all day.  She usually felt him pressing on her, silently and mentally begging her to let him in.  Today he was silent.  Today, he didn’t try to press her at all, and that, in itself, scared her.

She had gone with Xander to search for clues on the emptied train car.  The police hadn’t left anything behind, and she couldn’t find anything outside the hacked police reports that said this was a possible vampire attack.  Even they were vague; they only talked about neck trauma and blood loss, but you didn’t have to be the Slayer to smell something fishy in Sunny D.

At dusk, she started toward the crypt.  Fear gnawed at her belly, making her nauseous, but she clamped down on it and walked at her usual fast clip, instead of the dead run that her senses insisted.  She cracked the bond a little, right before she left the house, and felt…nothing.  No Spike.  She was almost afraid that some well-meaning Watcher had dusted him, but she knew that Giles wouldn’t presume…well, he might, to protect her, but she didn’t think he did. 

She entered the crypt, dust motes dancing in the drafts as she walked through the silent tomb.  She looked everywhere for him, upstairs and downstairs.  Climbing back up the ladder, she looked up and saw him standing over her.  The next thing she saw was Drusilla behind him.  When Dru shocked her with a cattle prod, and she saw the glee in his eyes, she knew she had lost him completely, then lost consciousness

Chapter 17

When she regained consciousness, she left her eyes closed, hoping to overhear something.  She felt Spike standing in front of her before she opened her eyes, then gave up playing possum and met his blue gaze head on.

    “This is only going to make things worse between us, not better, Spike.”  She rattled the chains around her wrist.  “Do you really think that chaining me up and keeping me captive is going to make me cave?  I’m not afraid of you.”

    “Not trying to make you afraid of me, pet.  Trying to keep you alive.”  He moved, and she saw Drusilla tied to a support pole behind him.  “She wanted to kill you outright.  I convinced her that slow was better.  You should at least have some gratitude.”

    “Gratitude.  That you and Dru are going to kill me?  Okay, I’ll bite.  Why?  Why should I be grateful for that?” 

    “I am not going to let her kill you.  Don’t you understand that, Buffy?  You’re inside me.  You’re everywhere around me.  I could no more kill you than I could stake myself.”

    “Well, there’s an idea.”

    “That is not the point, Buffy.  I love you.  I want to be with you.  I tried, I really did, not to love you.  I tried last night to go back to my old ways.  I can’t.  You have changed me inside, and I can’t go back to what I was.  I can only go forward, to what I can be.  I may be in you, but you’re in me too, and that won’t ever change, love.”

    He saw the skeptical look in her eyes, and grabbed a stake off a nearby table.  “I’ll even stake Dru, right here before your eyes to prove it to you.”

    “Like I care?  Just one less vampire I’ll have to dust.  Why should it matter to me?”  He would stake Dru?  His love of a hundred years?  Boy, something was up.

    “I told you.  Dru changed my life.  Made me whole, feel alive for the very first time.  That is not something that I take lightly, but that is all past.”

    Dru finally spoke, her voice strangely musical.  “My poor Spike.  Contaminated by the Slayer.  Covered with her.  I told you that, didn’t I, Sweet William?  Told you that you were covered with her.  You still taste of ashes.  The ashes are yet to come, far, far away.  The angels will never burn for him again.  The heavens weep, and the stars will fall from the sky.  He’ll be condemned to a life of boredom.”

    “Strange, Drusilla, but I never find it boring around here.”  Buffy looked back to Spike.  Jealousy gnawed at her insides when Spike laid his hand on Drusilla’s chest.  “This woman changed my life, forever.  Now, I am going to change hers.” 

    He raised the stake to her chest, drawing back to slam it into her, when an arrow shot out of nowhere and landed in his shoulder.  They all turned, to see Harmony standing there with a crossbow in her hands, highly irate.

    “I should have know, Spike.  But both of them?  Drood-zilla and the Slay-her?  What, I’m not enough woman for you?”

    “Harmony.  Why am I not surprised?”  Buffy rolled her eyes, and looked at Spike.  “Obviously, you have more than enough people interested in you—so why fixate on me?  And why the blond bimbo wannabe?  Okay, so maybe we resemble each other slightly, but ewww….”

    Harmony shrieked, clearly angry.  “You want to be with the Slayer now?  I wasn’t good enough, so you have to go with the Slayer?”  She raised the crossbow, aiming for his heart.  “I should have done this the first time you kicked me away from you.  You really are a dog, Spike.  A rabid dog that needs to be put down, and I’m the one to do it.”

    Spike charged across the room at her, and she squealed when he pulled the crossbow from her hands and threw it far away from them both.  As they struggled, Drusilla worked her way out of the bonds that held her tight and stood swaying hypnotically in front of Buffy.  “You put a spell on my Sweet Willie, and now he doesn’t want to hunt anymore.  Won’t hunt.  Won’t kill.  Won’t make his Dru scream.  Naughty, naughty girl, for taking my Willie away.”  She moved toward Buffy, who stood still, mute with anger and trying to figure out how to defend herself with her arms chained above her head. 

    Spike knocked Harmony on her ass, and ran over to protect Buffy from his Sire.  “Dru, no.  I have claimed her.  You’ll kill us both.”

    Drusilla shrieked, her face transforming into game face before it finished coming out of her mouth.  She curled her fingers into claws, and made as if to scratch Buffy’s eyes out.  “I should have never allowed you to return to Sunnydale, Spike.  I saw her, all over you, and I should have commanded you to stay away from her.”

    “I couldn’t, even if you commanded it, Sire.  I love her.  She is mine, now and always, until dust.”

    Buffy listened to the strange conversation, knowing that there was some kind of vampire ritual, but more concerned about her safety right now.  She watched Drusilla make some type of strange hand motions over Spike’s head, then over his heart, and then she said, “You are lost to me.  You are my Childe no longer, but Master of your own fate.  You are separate from me, and I from you, and we meet as family no more.”

    He bowed to her in return, and said, “I belong to no one, save my mate.  I am Master of my line, my heart, my fate.  I am separate from you, and you are my Sire no longer.  I am separate from you, and you from me, and we meet as family no more.”

    Dru’s sigils hovered over him, a glowing mist that seemed to sink into his skin.  She looked at him sadly, tears filling her eyes and trailing blood down her cheeks.  “You are forever lost to me, Spike.  William.”  She turned to Buffy, hatred glazing her eyes and drying the tears on her cheeks.  “Take care of his heart.  He loves well, and deep, although perhaps not wisely.  Take care, Slayer, and know that I will be ever close, ready to tear your heart out should you hurt him.”

    “Drusilla, I don’t want him.  You can have him.”

    She looked sadly at Buffy.  “You don’t understand.  He has made his decision, and there is no return.  No remedy.  You belong to him and he to you, until the death of either.  There is nothing I can do.”  She turned, and disappeared down the tunnels.

    Spike unlocked the wrist cuffs, and Buffy rubbed raw places on her arms where they had rubbed her tender skin.  She punched him, and ran past him, up the ladder and out of the crypt.   He spared a glance at Harmony, who just glared at him, and ran to catch up with Buffy.

    He caught her, finally, just blocks from her house.  “Buffy, wait!”

    “Wait for what?  For you?  Fat chance, Spike.  I want you and your creepy vampire shit away from me.”

    “Buffy, we had a fight.  Couples fight all the time.”

    She rounded on him, her face a mask in the dim light.  “No, Spike, we did not have a fight.  Lovers fight.  Spouses fight.  We did not have a fight, we had a break-up.  There is a difference.”

    “You can’t break up with me, Buffy.  I’m in you.  I’m all around you.  It’s only a matter of time before you see that.  We were meant to be together.  I am in your life, and I’m going to stay in it, whether you like it or not.”

    “We’ll see about that.”  She walked through her door, and stood, waiting for him to follow.  He tried, and an invisible barrier stopped him at the threshold, not allowing him to cross.  He looked at her, stunned, and she gave him a wicked smile.  “Goodbye, Spike.”  She closed the door.


Chapter 18

Buffy stood by her mother’s grave, knowing that she wouldn’t rise.  That was the one thing in this world that she was sure of right now.  Her mother would never rise.  She would never see her again.  Never.  She collapsed to her knees, and buried her face in her hands, sobbing silently. 

Angel had come to pay his respects, and she sent him away.  She couldn’t bear to be around him now.  Everything had changed.  Everything was different, and she knew that he could feel something, even if he wasn’t sure exactly what.

She sat in the dark, alone, waiting.  Alone.  Miraculously, the vampire and demon world was quiet, in respect for the Slayer and her family, if that was to be believed.  She waited, expecting him, but every noise made her flinch with disappointment. 

He watched her from a distance.  He saw her send Angel packing, and was glad of it.  He watched her there, waiting for him, and although it wasn’t in his heart to disappoint her, his feelings for Joyce were too much for him to share with her.  He had actually loved her, much like his own mother.  She had always been good for a cuppa and a chat, and they had some lovely chats through the years.  All that was over now, in the pause of a heartbeat. 

Tears stung his eyes, and he saw Buffy climb to her feet and walk dejectedly away from the grave.  Her head down, she didn’t notice him running to the graveside before the sun’s rays penetrated the leaves.  Didn’t notice the roses he placed on the fresh black earth.  Didn’t notice him hauling ass back to his crypt. 

She had only walked a few steps away, then turned, feeling something in her gut.   She saw the flowers, white roses, her mother’s favorite.  How…?   She decided not to question.  Not to push.  He still wasn’t ready to see her.  Or he didn’t care.

She didn’t see him haunting her front yard, watching her window.  She didn’t see him patrolling around her, watching her back.  She didn’t see him talking to Dawn, helping her, watching her kid sister.  She didn’t see because she refused to see, refused to allow him an entrée with the bond.  She kept herself tightly closed, and pushed any thought of him to the back of her mind.

Suddenly, she had a desperate need to see him, so she turned her meandering walk toward his crypt.  She walked in, unsure of her welcome, but not caring if he welcomed her or not.  She needed him, and that was all there was to it.

He was sitting in his chair with his back to the door, but he still knew that it was she.  “What do you want, Slayer?”

“Spike, I….”  She moved further into the crypt, closing the door behind her.  “I wanted to see you.”

“Whatever for?  Another game of kick the Spike?  Don’t think I’m up to it, pet.”

She stood in front of him, and saw him swiping at tears that were still falling from his eyes.  “Spike, why are you crying?”

“D’ya think that you’re the only one who loved Joyce, Buffy?  She was the closest thing to a mother that I’ve had since I’ve been dead.  Do you really think me so heartless that I won’t miss her?”

She started to speak, and he stood, sweeping his arms in a wide arc.  “What, Big Bad doesn’t get to have feelings?  Well, I’ve got feelings, Buffy.”  He hit himself in the chest.  “I’ve got feelings, and they burn.  They burn so bad, that sometimes…I wish….”  His voice trailed off, and he turned away from her.  “I’m really not up for company today, love, so if you want to, come back later and I’ll let you pound on me.”

“I don’t want to pound on you, Spike.”  She walked up behind him, and rested her face against the leather of his duster, the smell of him quieting her ravaged emotions and calming her heart.  “I needed to see you.  I don’t know if it is the bond, or just that I…well, it surprised me that you didn’t come over to the house, the night….”

“I did, pet.”  He turned, and wrapped his arms around her.  “I did, Buffy.  The whelp turned me away at the door.  I didn’t think I was welcome anyway, after the uninvite spell.”

“You’re not, but….  Spike, what are we doing to each other?  The past three days, I have felt so alone, empty…and I know that part of it was because of you.  Partly because of Mom.  I don’t know where to go now, or what to do.  She…she always knew.  I don’t.”

“Joyce had years of practice knowing what to do.  It’ll take time, Buffy, but you’ll get there.”  He cupped her face in his hands, and looked into her eyes.  “You’ll get there.”

“I don’t know if I will.  Or if I can.  I don’t know how to pay bills, or shop, or keep house.  I can do laundry, only because I have to.  I can’t cook worth a damn.  Spike, I feel worthless.  I can’t raise a teenager.”

“You’ll have all the help you need, Buffy.  Do you think so little of your friends that they would let you down like that?  You know they won’t.  They love Dawn just as much as you do.  I love Dawn too.  We’ll all keep an eye open for her, you know we will.”

She sighed, and pressed her cheek into his chest.  His unique scent surrounded her, and she wallowed in him for a moment, relaxing the lid she held closed on the claim so she could feel all of him.  The moment she did, she was home.  Home in his arms, his scent on her skin, in her nostrils, and she knew that if she let herself, she could be happy there.

Spike tightened his arms around her when the claim twanged through him, her feelings for him revealed with every beat of her heart.  She loved him; he knew it now.  But to act on it…he didn’t want to press her into anything, especially after the scene with Dru and her last brush with vampire magick.  Smoothing her hair, he picked her up and sat down in his chair, coiling her into his lap while he soothed her. 

He thought she had drifted off to sleep when he heard her voice, muffled by his chest.  “I waited all night for you.”

“I know, pet.  I was there.”

“I didn’t see you.”

“You’d’ve felt me, if you wanted to.  Like you are now.  You can feel all of me, can’t you?  Like I can feel all of you.  Buffy….”  He buried his face in her hair, surrounding his senses with her scent.  “Buffy, I miss you so….”

“I miss you too, Spike.”  She looked up at him.  “I’m sorry.  Sorry for shutting you off and shutting you out.  You matter too much to me now, and I can’t do it.  Can’t do it without you, Spike.”  She buried her face in his chest, and he could smell her tears, their salty tang bitter on his tongue.  “I need you.”

“Buffy, you have me.”  He lifted her chin, and pressed his lips gently to hers.  They parted with the light pressure, and he touched the tip of his tongue between her lips, testing the heat of her mouth.  “I’m sorry too, love,” he said against her lips.  “I didn’t know….”

“I know that.  I think it threw you worse than it did me.  Didn’t expect that, did you?”

“I think, sweetheart, we will never really know what to expect from this marriage, do you?”

Her answer was a kiss, pressed feverishly onto her scar on his neck.  She nipped it with blunt teeth, and he threw his head back with a groan.  “Buffy, love, think.  Do you really want this right now?”

“No.”  She couldn’t lie to him.  Ever again.  “What I need is someone to hold me.  Will you do that?”

“Until the end of the world, darling.”  He stood with her still in his arms, and carried her down the ladder into the basement and his bed.  He undressed her, folding her clothes neatly and putting them near her on a chair, then removed his own clothes and eased in next to her, carefully wrapping himself around her body, barely touching her.  She moved back until she was cradled in his arms, pressed against him, and a smile ghosted above her lips.  Spike felt hope for the first time in weeks, as he listened to her breathing even out and her heartbeat slow as it thudded through the contact of their bodies.  He closed his eyes, and surrounded by her, drifted off to sleep.


Chapter 19

She woke long before he did.  Disoriented at first, she savored the feeling of his cool limbs intertwined with hers, his muscled form pressed to her back.  She turned over, and he rolled to his back, presenting her with his profile.  She stared at his face, taking a mental picture of the hard planes and soft angles of his visage.  He really is quite a good-looking man, she thought.  Even the hair, it really suits him.  She tried to picture him differently, and found her thoughts dragged back to the tousled curls, the firm mouth, the chiseled cheekbones.  Even the scar on his brow was sexy. 

She inadvertently slipped into his mind, and into his dream.  All she did was close her eyes, and she was in a torch-lit room, watching herself and Spike make love in a huge old-fashioned bed.  She was tied to the posts with silk scarves, and he was tormenting her with his mouth, everywhere.  Moisture flooded her thighs as she opened her eyes and they clashed with piercing blue.

“See anything you like, pet?”

His lazy drawl sent another throb through her body.  She was raw nerve endings, and every motion, every smile, everything about him scraped across her, leaving her tender and needing relief.  She didn’t even speak—her eyes held the raw emotion she had become.  He could sense her, a bottomless cup so empty it echoed, and needed to be filled to be whole.  He took her in his arms, pulled her across his chest, and seized her mouth with his, filling her mouth with his tongue as he sent his love across the bond, and into the empty vessel atop him.

She drank from him, thirsty for love, kisses, closeness, him.  She felt herself slipping across the bond, into him, and he into her, and defied her initial impulse to fight it.  She was rejuvenated by whatever he was doing, she felt like she had slept for days instead of a couple of hours, and shut up inner Buffy because he’s kissing me and I like it and I can’t listen to you anymore….

Her orgasm rolled over her and pulled her away from him, away from the bond, snapping her back into herself.  She pulled away, wide-eyed, and saw her shock reflected in his eyes.  “What the…?” she started to say.

“You aren’t the only one, pet,” he said, and showed her the wet spot on the sheet at groin level.  “That was…unbelievable.  We didn’t even….”

Spike bashful?  This was something.  “So, that’s never happened before either, huh?”  She grinned.  “Good.  Something else weird…but a good weird, not a bad one.”

She sat up on the side of the bed, and stretched.  “I feel…wonderful.  Like I can take on the world.  How about you?”

“Bloody hell, pet.  I feel…alive.”

She shot him a look, and he was holding his chest, a wondrous look on his face.  “Huh?  That can’t happen.”

“I know.  But…I felt my heart beat.  One beat.  But it did, for the first time in a hundred odd years.”

“From a kiss?”

“Pet, that was more than just a kiss.  Kisses don’t make you come.  Kisses don’t make a dead heart beat.  Kisses don’t…don’t do that, right?”

“Right.”  She started to reach for her clothes, and remembered Dawn was with Willow and Tara.  She turned, and laid her head on his chest, trailing her fingers across his stomach.  His skin was so smooth, soft over hard, her fingertips gliding over defined muscles.  She looked up at his face and saw he had his eyes closed. 

Reaching down, she ghosted her fingers across the loose skin of his scrotum, and around to his inner thigh.  His lips parted in a silent gasp, and she took it as a challenge.  She would make him scream before she was through.

Gently, briefly, she brushed her hand over his cock, skimming over his hardness with her palm.  She gripped it firmly in her small hand, wondering over its size as she stroked it from base to tip and back.  She could feel it warming with the heat and friction of her hand, and paused, loving its coolness. 

She spread herself across his lap, knees wide, her back to him and his erection pressing against her stomach.  She grasped it with both hands, slickened with her own juices staining her thighs, and stroked it, alternately tightening and loosening her grip as she moved her hands up and down.  He scrabbled at the sheets with his hands, then gripped her hips and moved her into position over him.  She teased him, moving her hips in a figure eight, the head of his cock brushing the tantalizing opening poised above him.  Slowly, she slid down onto that waiting hardness, sheathing him inside her until their pubic bones bumped together.

He ran his hands over her skin, memorizing her body with his fingers.  Smooth, silken, soft…he was mesmerized by every part of her.  She twisted her hips, barely moving, her inner muscles gripping him much as her hands had.  He cupped her breasts, fingers dancing across her nipples, electric shocks echoing through her at his touch. 

She leaned forward, and began bucking her hips against him, driving her clit against him with every downstroke.  She could sense it building between them; another momentous moment, another mind-boggling climax, and she wanted to drive them to it faster.  She looked back at him over her shoulder, and said, “Baby, behind me…I want you behind me…please….”

His knees were weak, but he was able to kneel behind her, slip inside her again, and pump himself into her, driving his body against hers.  She arched her back, and he reached beneath her to find her clit with his fingers, brushing it lightly as she began to pant beneath him.  Hips pistoning, he licked up her spine to her neck, nibbling on her shoulder as she kept building.  He sensed her moment, and slipped easily into game face, sliding his fangs into her as she exploded against his hand, around his cock, into his mouth. 

She sprawled out on the bed, face down, his cock still inside her as he supported his weight on his elbows.  Gently, he pulled out of her, and turned her over, slipping back inside.  Glazed hazel eyes, unfocused and misty, latched onto his face.  “Omigod, Spike,” she breathed, and wrapped her arms around his neck.  She crushed his mouth with hers, her kiss almost feral as she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deep inside her.  She chewed his lip until he started to move, then she moved with him, raking furrows across his ass as he drove her over again and again, orgasms moving faster than light as they rippled through her body, until she could no longer tell where one ended and another began.

He couldn’t say what triggered him, whether it was the animalistic look in her eyes, the snarling noise coming out of her throat, the smell of their blood on the air, or the pain of her nails in his back, but he spasmed in release, his back arching and toes curling, and her name on his lips.  He collapsed on top of her, listening to her heart race under his head, feeling the warmth of her suffusing his limbs and making him lax and pliant.  She toyed with his curls as he rested his head on her breasts, both of them wondering when the next shoe would drop and this afterglow would be shattered.

“Spike….”she started, then stopped.

He raised his head.  “Love?”

“No, don’t look at me.”  Obediently, he put his head back on her chest, and closed his eyes.  “I…I think I could fall in love with you.  If I let myself.  The bond…the claim helps…I know how you feel…and you know I feel something for you…but I need time…and…well, I just need time.”

“We have to the end of the world, love.”

“Yeah, but I have an expiration date, remember?  Slayers don’t have time.  That’s why this scares me so much.  Loving someone.”

“Pet, no one ever knows what tomorrow will bring.  I’ve lived a lot of tomorrows.  I never saw you coming.  Never envisioned this happening.  Every day that I’ve been alive, or dead, has been a revelation.  Of sorts.”

“As soon as we get this Glory business done and over, I want to concentrate on this.  On us.  Can we do that?”

“Yes, pet, we’ll do that.  Kick the hellgod bitch’s ass, then off we go, you and I on a vacation.  And the Bit.  Sound good?”

“Sounds heavenly.”  She stroked his back.  “I’m leaving for a day or two.  Going to the desert.  Will you keep an eye on the house, and Dawn?”

“Do you even need to ask, pet?  Have been, for some time.”

She bent her head to kiss the top of his curls.  “I know.  Even without the bond, I can still smell cigarette smoke, and see butts on the ground outside the house.  Speaking of, I need to get going.  I need to be home when Dawn gets there.”

“I know.”  He rolled onto his back, and watched her dress.  “Will I see you when you get back?”

“You know you will.  I’ll be over.”

“Then I won’t worry.”  He sat up, and she leaned over to kiss him.  “Love you, pet.”

She didn’t answer, only smiled as she climbed the ladder to the surface

Chapter 20

Buffy was gone to the desert and he was at loose ends, looking for something to do when he got the message from Warren.  At first, he was hard pressed remembering who the bloke was to begin with, but the mention of the robot snapped his memory to attention and he went to the wanker’s house just to see what it turned out like.

He was amazed at the likeness to the Slayer.  The hair, shiny, bouncy, golden in the light; the eyes, her eyes, looking out of her face.  If he was still alone, he could see how this could be a substitute for the real thing, but now that he and Buffy….  Then the robot kissed him, and she was warm, pliant in his arms, smelled almost like Buffy, and he was lost in his own fantasy for a moment.

He took her home through the sewers, avoiding the well-traveled places, and finally got her into his crypt.  He played a couple of games with her, games he’d had Warren program into her, and even though he had the best intentions to deactivate her, ended up shagging her instead.  Guilt washed over him, although he really didn’t feel like he was cheating; it was simply because of the bond between them.  He chafed at its emptiness, her absence, finally rolling away from it, disgusted with his baser urges.  As he dozed off, he vowed to deactivate the ‘bot when he woke.

He didn’t count on the Slayer programming overriding his command to stay in the crypt.  He woke, and the ‘bot was gone, the door of the crypt wide open.  Throwing his clothes on, he ran out to find it with Xander and Anya.

He knew by their expressions that neither Buffy nor Giles had seen fit to enlighten them to the new relationship, so he tried to offset the ‘bot’s programming, pretending it was being unnecessarily rough with him.  He knew they weren’t fooled, but had no time for damage control before they were attacked by the fledgling vampires.

Whirl, spin, kick, stake…it was all becoming second nature for him, a pleasant offshoot of the love of the fight.  When the vampires were dust, and the whelp and his gel had left, he looked over at the ‘bot, deciding one last romp with her after a fight like that would be therapeutic.  He didn’t notice the watchers at either side of the woods; Glory’s minions on one side, and Xander and Anya on the other.

It was only afterward, when they were back at the crypt and beings attacked, that Spike realized what they wanted.  What they were looking for.  They wanted the Key, and they thought he was it.  Well, let ‘em think it, if it protected the Bit.  He didn’t care about himself, just his mate and her loved ones.

So now here he was, in the hands of the hellgod and her minions, trying his best to hide any knowledge he had and keep himself alive.  The ‘bot was programmed to look for him, so maybe she would get to him in time.   He thought of Buffy, and realized that he didn’t want her to put her ass on the line to rescue him.  He would rather she kept herself far away from the bitch-goddess.  His guts hurt, like she’d twisted something inside him.  He could feel them burning, knitting themselves back together, and most of his body’s energy was being sapped by that.  He closed his eyes, spinning another lie to distract the stupid bint, then started with insults.  He was grateful when she hit him hard enough to fly into the hallway.

Reeling, head spinning, he dragged himself to the elevator and pulled the doors open with the little he had left in him.  He fell to the roof of the moving elevator car, fell through the access panel, and could move no more.  He saw the ‘bot through the open elevator doors, trying to get across the foyer to him, then sparks flew as he gave up the fight for consciousness.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Xander couldn’t understand why Buffy was so concerned about Captain Peroxide.  Who cares if the Evil Dead Boy was hurt?  He would be better off dust, but Buffy seemed to have a soggy spot for the chip head and didn’t want to do him in until she was certain of his loyalties.  He helped Giles drag the body bag into the crypt, then unzipped it to uncover the battered body of his most unfavorite enemy. 

“Why are we doing this again, Giles?  Can’t we just accidentally leave him out in the sun or something?”

“We are doing this because Buffy asked us, and she feels Spike will be essential to the battle against Glory.”

“You know, it’s too bad, about the robot.  It really was a slaying machine, literally.”  Xander giggled, earning a disgusted look from Giles.  “God, Giles, Spike took a lot of abuse.  Do you think he’ll pull out of it?”

“Most likely, Xander.  Vampires have remarkable recovery from even the gravest wounds.  Except for sunlight and the stake, there is really very little that a master vampire cannot heal.”

“It takes blood, doesn’t it?  Should we bring him back some blood?”

“That will be up to Buffy to decide.  We should get to the Magic Box now, and assess the situation.”  The Watcher removed his glasses and cleaned them, looking thoughtfully at Spike.  “I’m sure that Buffy will have…something to say about all this.”

“Yeah.”  With one last pitying look at the vampire on the sarcophagus, Xander followed the watcher out of the crypt, closing the door quietly behind him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Buffy felt betrayed.  Betrayed and disgusted.  He had a life-size sex doll made to her specifications!  She couldn’t believe…no, she could.  She felt his desperation weeks ago, and ignored him even more.  After she’d been super bitch, she could believe he would do anything, even if it did involve mechanical sex toys. 

She laid her head on the table, looking into her double’s eyes.  She really didn’t think that it looked that much like her.  She knew she didn’t have that insipid stare, or that goofy smile.  And that hair….

She really, really needed to know how much information Glory had been able to extract from Spike.  She could just ask him, but Anya was right.  He probably would just lie about it, and that would do her no good at all.  Where did he get that stupid looking outfit, anyway?  There was better stuff in her closet….

An idea struck her, and shortly after sharing it with the Scoobies, the females were in the back room stripping the robot of her outfit.  Willow and Anya looked from Buffy to the robot and back, amazed at the detail of the robot, down to coloration and skin hues.  Buffy noticed their stares, and rolled her eyes, amazed that they could think that thing looked like her. 

When she walked into the crypt, she had to bite her lip to keep herself from crying out loud.  He looked done in, bruised and swollen everywhere, and she wanted to run to him, tend to him, but there was something else on the line here.

The jig was up when she leaned in and kissed him.  He knew, the feeling of her mouth and the warmth of her, and her scent, then she opened to him.  He looked confused, befuddled by her need to masquerade, but she didn’t want or need to explain.  She stepped out the door and grabbed the supplies she’d brought with her, and came back to his side.

“My God, Spike, why didn’t you call me?”

“Didn’t…want to…distract you from…your quest.  ‘ll be alright, pet.  Just give me some blood, and some time, and I’ll be alright.”

“Sweetie, I don’t think that she is going to let us have any time at all.  She is closer than ever before, and I can’t afford to put off what has to be done.  We have to fight or fly.  That’s our only choices.”

“Give me a chance to build up some strength, Buffy.  I got your back, love.”

She smoothed his forehead, and moved her neck closer to his mouth.  “I know, sweetie, and I’ve got yours.  Now drink, and heal.”

She finally allowed the tears to flow freely as he struggled into game face.  She sensed how hard it was for him to shift—he had no energy whatsoever, everything he had was sustaining his unlife.  She leaned into him, nicking her own throat on his fangs, and weak sucking started at her neck.  She cradled his head in her arms, and only released him when she started to feel lightheaded. 

He realized she had fed him far too much, and pulled away from her.  “Buffy, you shouldn’t have.”

“Slayer healing.  I’ll be okay, honey.  Now, I don’t know exactly how you did this before, but….”  She leaned over him, and pressed her mouth to his, and poured her essence, her energy into him, sharing what he had so richly given her earlier.  He was growing stronger, between her blood and her essence, and she could feel his mouth healing, reforming and reknitting under hers.  When she pulled back, there was a noticeable difference.  His face was less swollen; she could see most of his eyes now, and his mouth was reworking itself as she watched.  He reached for her hand, and pressed his lips to it.

“My love.”

“Okay, now you have some explainy to do.”

He had the good grace to look abashed.  “Buffy, remember when you ran away from me?  Told me don’t, don’t, don’t, and hauled out of here like your fanny was afire?  Well, shortly after that, you locked me out of your house with that uninvite spell.  Then there was Warren….”

“The robot.  April.”

“Yeah.  Well, you were telling me to find another fixation.  I found Warren, gave him the specs, and he built the ‘bot.  After that, you came back.  Then Warren contacted me about the stupid ‘bot.  I couldn’t leave a Slayerbot running around Sunnydale, now, could I?”

“I guess that would have been a bad.  So then you had to have sex with it?”

“We…yes.  I missed you.”  He knew that she would taste the lie if he told it.  “I really didn’t mean to.  She just…looked like you, smelled like you, and I couldn’t keep my hands off of her.”  He looked embarrassed.  “She…loved me, Buffy.  You didn’t, and wouldn’t love me.  I…wanted to be loved, by you.”

She touched his mouth with her fingertips.  “I….”  She still couldn’t give him what he so desperately needed from her.  Still couldn’t say the words out loud.  God, what she wouldn’t give to be able to let herself go….

She leaned over him, and kissed his mouth softly.  “Go downstairs, get some rest, and I’ll come back later to check on you.  Okay?  Right now, I need to go check on Dawnie and see what other shit has hit the fan since I’ve been here.”

“I’m not sure I can move.”  He struggled to sit up, holding his left side with the fractured ribs, the ends of the bones grinding together.  He grimaced, and Buffy slipped her arm around him, assisting him to the hole in the floor. 

“Come on, baby.  I’ll help you.”  She helped him negotiate the ladder, then took him to his bed and laid him down, tucking him in.  “You stay here.  Rest.  Heal.  I’ll be back soon.”

He caught her hand as she turned away from the bed.  “Buffy?  Love you, pet.  Thank you….”

She held his hand until she was certain he was resting, then got to her feet, raking her fingers through her hair.  She had to do something soon.  Glory was too close to Dawn, and now she was fucking with her boyfriend.  She cringed internally at the word boyfriend, but shook it off.  He was her boyfriend, if not more, and everyone better get used to it.  She wasn’t going to waste what time she had denying herself, since that had gotten her so far anyway.  She climbed the ladder, sparing a glance over her shoulder to ascertain he was still sleeping, then snuck out of the crypt, ready for a fight.

Chapter 21

Buffy headed to the Magic Box, mission firmly declared.  Find a way to take this bitch out.  She has done her last damage to her friends and family.

She just didn’t know how. 

Irritated, she threw open the door of the store, and stalked inside, glorious in her anger.  The bell dinged anxiously above her head, signaling her arrival to those inside.  Customers moved, intimidated by the look on her face, and even her friends stared at her in shock.

“What does she want?  What does the Key open?”

Giles adjusted his glasses, and looked at his charge.  “As far as we can ascertain, the Key must open a portal of some kind.” 

“What?  Where does it open it, and when?  Giles, we’re running out of time.  Our allies are getting their asses kicked, and so am I.  We can’t keep this up much longer.  We need answers, and we needed them yesterday.  So make with the books.  Look up spells.  Do whatever you do with research, but get me something to go on.”  She dropped her voice to a whisper, and moved in toward him.  “Spike—he’s hurt pretty bad.  Inside, I think.  I let him drink….”

“Buffy!  You what?”

She scowled at him.  “Giles, I had to.  He was dying…okay, dying deader…and we need him.  I need him.  I don’t know if it’s enough to bring him out of it.  He needs more blood.  Human blood.”

“I’ll get in touch with my contacts at the blood bank.  See if they have any nearly expired products.  Anything else?”

“Help me, Giles.  That’s all I need right now.  Anything else, it has to wait.”

She pivoted smartly, and left the shop.

~*~

Buffy went back to the crypt to check on Spike.  He was still in the same position she had left him.  Bruises and cuts marred his face, but the swelling of the soft planes was completely gone.  His mouth was slack with sleep, and she could see the split lip, the mess inside his mouth.  She was amazed at the amount of abuse Spike had taken and lived.  He’d also protected Dawn.

Buffy slipped the sheet down his chest to look at the hole Glory left in his stomach.  The skin was depressed, almost like the dimple in his chin, slight unless viewed from a particular angle.  She ran her hands along his side, checking his ribs, and felt no grinding there beneath the skin.  He grabbed her wrist and held her still.

“What’re you doing there, pet?”

“Checking your ribs.  They seem pretty well healed.”

“I haven’t checked, myself.”  He struggled to sit up, and tried to draw a deep breath.  “Seems better.”

“Your face isn’t mushy anymore, either.  The swelling’s gone.”

“Thanks to you, and some donated blood gone bad.  Otherwise, I’d still be out.”

She blushed, and looked down at her hands.  “You said that Slayer blood had a kick.  Just thought I would get you off to a good start.”

He covered her hands with his.  “I appreciate it, Buffy.  I have never wished so hard to see you before.”

“You knew that I would come for you.  I will always come for you, Spike.”  She stopped, realizing the double entendre, the said, “Maybe rephrase that--I’ll rescue you.  How about that?”

“Always thought that I was supposed to rescue you, pet.”  He smiled down at her, trying to make light to diffuse her embarrassment. 

She brushed loose curls back from his forehead, and smiled at him.  “How about we watch each other’s backs, Spike?  I’ll keep rescuing you, and you rescue me when I need it, and everything will be balanced in the universe.  Willow was always going on about karma—maybe it’s karma that brought you and I together.  This whole bond-claim-marriage thingie—maybe that’s to make sure that we stay together, to help each other fight.”

“Still evil, pet.”

“Yeah, I know.  Always the Big Bad.”  She smiled, and ran her thumb over his lip.  “I just don’t think that the Big Bad is as big or as bad as he thought.  Not next to a god.  Especially one that looks like Glory.”

“If you’re talking bad-looking.  She has a lopsided arse.  And a bad perm.”

She grinned at him.  “Uh-huh.  But she can kick both our asses and not break a sweat.  We need to strategize.  Bad.  The whole Scooby gang.  You know how they are to deal with.”  She stopped herself, hearing the intimate tone in her voice.  This was so not the time.  “But want to or not, we have to put our heads together on this.  I feel like the monsters are getting bigger and badder, and I can’t take them on alone.”  She looked at the new, pinker skin on his wrists, and grimaced.  “She keeps hurting us, weakening us, we won’t have to fight, because we’ll all be done for.  Whatever the Key opens, she’ll open it, and it will burn us all.”

“We’ll find a weak spot, pet.  I’ll tell the Watcher what I know about her setup and her minions, and we’ll see if there’s a way.  You know we will.”

She looked at him with sad eyes.  “I know.  Everyone is doing all they can, researching day and night.  But when it comes down to it, honey, all of it’s going to be on me.”



Chapter 22

She hated this.  She hated dropping out of school, but reality was reality, and someone had to be there for Dawn.  Not to mention the numerous days she had missed.  She hated having her professors look at her with that sad smile, and their words of sympathy only tore her grief open again and again.  This world leaves scars on you, she thought, and went to see her English Prose 101 teacher last, her favorite class.  The words, their rhythm, seemed to take her away from the every day stress and bring her a calm that she had thought impossible to find.  She knew that some of it was Spike’s, or actually William’s influence, but it was welcome if it kept her sane and safe to be around others. 

She wondered if that was how he had kept his humanity for all these many years—his love of the written word.  She doubted he knew how deeply she had seen into his heart those many times, those many bites.  She knew his passions, his wants, his needs—she saw his self.  Even without a soul, there was no longer malice and evil in his every intention.  He protected her mother, Dawn, herself.  He fought alongside her, against demons and gods and vampires.  He loved her.  Then and now.  Forever, if he unlived that long. 

She knew that the insight went both ways, and that terrified her.  She wouldn’t put a name to what she felt, every time he touched her, kissed her…she would  not.   She was not willing to admit that this peaceful, secure feeling stole over her whenever Spike was by her side was anything like love.  She would never admit craving his mouth.  Never, ever tell that she loved looking at his body in any lighting.  Absolutely reveal nothing about the way he made her come, how it drained her, yet energized her too.  And we will not discuss the way his cock felt inside her, how it filled her and stretched her inside, how close pleasure was to pain, and pain to pleasure, and how much she wanted to feel him inside her now….

She ran all the way from the campus to his crypt.  She slammed the door open, then closed behind her.  “Spike!” she yelled into the silence.

“Buffy!”  She heard his voice echo below her, and she ran to the hole in the floor, looking down into it.  He stood at the foot of the ladder, worry on his brow, and she motioned him back.  She dropped down into the cavern, and straightened, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hard.

She thought at first that he would back away from her, and gripped him tighter.  His hands went to her hips to keep their balance when she wrapped her leg around his, pressing herself against his full length.  She turned, and threw her back against the wall, arching into him, her hands holding his head in place as she purred against his lips.  He grabbed her thighs, lifted her up and leaned her against the wall, and ground himself against her, instantly hard. 

“Spike…you’re okay…to do this…?”

“Buffy, love, I would dust myself if I ever passed up a chance to shag you.”  He kissed the pulse point behind her ear, and whispered, “I would die for you.”

Tears welled in her eyes, and she closed them, holding them back.  “I only have about an hour and a half.  How much damage can we do in that amount of time?”

“Plenty.”  He ground himself against her again, making her gasp.  His mouth nibbled at her neck, his scar there.  Her quim spasmed at the pressure and the sensations shooting through her, and she pulled at his shirt, hungry for the touch of his skin.  Her hands were hot on him, everywhere she touched, and he cooled her.  She locked her legs around his hips to free his hands, and he put them to good use, grabbing her ass with one hand and tweaking her erect nipple through her thin shirt with the other. 

She moaned against his mouth, and motioned toward the bed.  He carried her, still wrapped around him, over to the bed where he crawled onto the mattress, laying her spread beneath him.  Their four hands free now, they tugged at each other’s clothing, wanting to lay bare all pretenses, lay aside all masks for the other.  She let the light into her eyes as she watched him stand above her and undress, pulling his shirt over his head, pushing his jeans over his lean hips, letting his cock spring free, hard and cool and waiting for her touch.  She sat up and cupped his length in her palm, then wrapped both hands around it, licking, then kissing the velvety head. 

She pulled her shirt off, then her boots, then yanked her slacks off, suddenly impatient.  She pulled her panties off, flipping them at Spike, surprising herself with her own daring.  She watched him lift them to his nose and inhale, smiling blissfully.  She grabbed his free hand, and jerked him off balance, and he fell to the bed on his back.  She threw her leg over him, then righted herself to press her dripping wet pussy against the underside of his cock, trapped between them.  So cool…she glided her hips back and forth, coating the length of him with her juices, and watched his eyes roll back in his head. 

He grabbed her by the hips, stilling her.  “Buffy…can’t take much.  Been a while….”

“For both of us, baby.  Just hang on.”  She raised herself, gripped him in her hand to aim him, then thrust herself onto him, his cock stretching her in a combination of pleasure and pain and fullness, the head striking her cervix and making her gasp aloud.  She was still for a moment, enjoying the sensation, then started to move her hips in small circles, her heat swirling around the coolness of him, quenching her fire inside yet stoking it higher at the same time. 

His hands caressed her skin, cupped her breasts, fingertips grazing her nipples as she moved against him.  She was dancing above him to the music of her body, and he was awed at the peaceful look on her face as she moved.  She threw her head back, her hair brushing his thighs as she drove herself onto him over and over, her speed increasing as her pulse raced, pounding through them both.  Her muscles pulsed around him with every beat of her racing heart, and he knew that neither one of them could last long at this pace, and he wanted her beneath him when she finally let herself go. 

He pulled her close and rolled them, switching their positions.  Leaning over her on his elbows, he looked into her impassioned eyes and saw her heart, her revelations about him and herself.  He was awed that she finally let him see her, and this was the greatest gift she could give him at this moment.  “Oh, my lovely girl.  I love you.”

She still couldn’t answer.  She simply smiled at him.  He understood.  Finally.

He kissed her, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, and she welcomed it gladly.  He moved inside her slowly, matching the speed of his tongue, then kissed down her throat to her neck, and the scar in the bend there.  She pumped herself against him, her heels gripping his hips as she tried to draw him deeper inside her the closer he got to their mating scar.  He gripped it lightly with blunt teeth, nipping lightly on every thrust into her quim.  Her inner Slayer muscles were going wild, gripping him like a fist at times, and he could tell she was nearing her peak as her skin flushed, breath coming in short gasps. 

“Baby, please, God, please I need to come please don’t stop bite me Spike love baby please….”  Her words ran together, a single continuous plea, and he slipped into game face and buried his fangs in her neck to send her flying over the edge.

She threw her head back in the rigor of a powerful orgasm, each draw of her blood into his mouth drawing a taut thread between her neck and her clit, so tight…then it snapped and she couldn’t still her trembling as she writhed against him, sobbing his name. 

“So tight, Slayer…so hot…been waiting for you, Buffy…waiting for you to come for me, just like you said you would.  Love fucking you, Buffy.  Feels so bleeding good, so bleeding right.  Feels like home.  Need you, love.  Always need you.”

He started to lick her skin to seal his marks, and she pressed his head against her, his neck within her reach.  She gripped her mark between blunt teeth, and sent a silent apology that she couldn’t be as delicate with him as he always was with her.  She tore the flesh with her incisors as best she could, his blood gushing into her mouth and down her throat in a delicious torrent that opened their hearts to one another, their essences merging and mingling.  He sipped at the small trickle that still ran from one puncture wound, and if his heart weren’t already dead, it would have stopped at the possessive tone in her voice.

“Mine.”



Chapter 23

Spike pulled away from her, shock filling his eyes.

“Oh, Buffy, do you know what you’ve done, pet?”

“Of course I do.  I claimed you back.”  She frowned.  “You…didn’t want that?”

He pulled her close, his need completely forgotten.  “Of course I did.  I never thought….”

“Didn’t think that I would ever do it, did you.  You thought that I would just let you hang….”

“No, love.  Just didn’t think you wanted any part of my weird vampire shit.”  He pulled away from her, rolling to his back and covering his eyes.  “Sorry, love, just surprised is all.”

She sat up, gathering her clothes as she spoke.  “You didn’t see?  I thought I let my guards down, and you would see…I guess not, I’ve never given you any reason to think…but then again, there was nothing that said I wouldn’t…but that doesn’t matter, this was a big mistake…I’m—“

She stopped talking when he grabbed her and kissed her.  The clothes fell out of her hands onto the ground, and she fisted his hair, her kiss punishing.  “Never underestimate me, Spike.  I’m always full of surprises.”

“I’m finding that out, pet.  You better get dressed.  Almost time for your appointment.”

“But you….”

“Time for that later.  Now, you have to go attend to Dawn.”

Reminded of her responsibilities, she shrugged into her clothes.  “I don’t want to go.  It’s never good when they call you into the office, I know from experience.”

“Still, you need to find out why they called you.  I need to rest some more.  You wear me out, Buffy.”

“Not enough, it seems.”  She nodded at his erection.  “I feel guilty.”

“No, love, don’t.  Stamina, remember?  I can handle it.  Bloody hell, Buffy, I’ve had to before.”

“It seems like such a waste to leave you like that.”

“More where that came from, love.  Just come see me again soon in one of those moods.  I like it when you’re horny Buffy.”

“Spike, you’re a pig,” she said, her voice reflecting her smile.

~*~

Strange are the curves that life throws, and a few hours made so much difference in so many lives.

The phone rang, and Buffy answered automatically, still seething over Dawn’s pouting and near tantrum.  “Buffy?  Xander.  It’s Tara—Glory thinks she’s the Key.  Can you come?  Willow’s gone to the fair, we’re going to the apartment to check.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.  Let me take Dawn to Spike, I don’t want to leave her here alone.  Be there soon.”  She cradled the receiver, then turned to the sullen 14-year-old.  “Get your stuff.  You’re going to Spike’s.”

“I don’t want to go to Spike’s.”

“Glory is on the loose, Tara’s hurt, and I don’t have time for this.  Get your stuff.”  She shoved Dawn’s purse into her arms, ignoring her complaints, and pulled her out the door.  She took her sister by the hand and ran with her, all the way to Restfield, to Spike’s crypt.

“Spike!  Glory’s hurt Tara.  I need you to watch Dawn, it’s not sunset yet.”

“Go, pet.  I’ve got the Bit.  We’ll go to the caves, through the sewers.”

He watched her leave, then turned to the pouting teenager.  “Come on.  The minions know that I live here.  It’s not safe.  Let’s go, Niblet.”

“I don’t know why I couldn’t have stayed home, instead of being dragged through the sewers.  I can tie my shoes and use the phone, if I needed any help.”

“Bit, we are trying to keep you safe, and out of Glory’s sight.  Now, move it.  Into the sewers.”

He motioned for her to descend the ladder, then followed her down.  Wide eyes took in the tousled sheets, the candles, and the pair of delicate panties that lay on the floor at the foot of the bed.

She turned, and looked at Spike, who could swear that he was blushing, his cheeks felt so warm.  “Spike?”

“Uh, yes, Niblet?”

“Are those—Buffy’s?”

“Uh—do I have to answer that?”

“You don’t now.”  She smiled weakly.  “I don’t know whether to be happy for her or scared for her.  Especially now.  After all that happened today….”  She headed down the tunnel, staring at her feet, and Spike followed, desperate to keep her safe and hope she understood about him and Buffy.

~*~

Buffy headed back to the caves, feeling her way along the bond to Spike and her sister.  He met her at the mouth, and she walked faster until she was running into his arms.  “Oh, Spike, it’s terrible—her mind is gone.  Glory brain sucked her, and Tara’s gone.”  She gripped his arms, warring with her grief and anger.  “I have so got to end this, Spike.  Promise me—“

“Anything, pet.”

“Promise me you’ll finish this if I can’t.  If I don’t.  Don’t let that bitch do whatever it is she wants to do.  Finish her.”

“I will, pet.  Poor Glinda.  ‘ll bet Willow is sack o’ hammers.”

Buffy sat down next to Dawn, and put her arm around her.  “She was pretty upset, and wanted to go after Glory, but I talked her out of it.”

“You talked her out of it?  A pissed off witch with a hardon for revenge?  Right.  You couldn’t talk me out of it.  I’d do it—for love—for the right one, the only one.”

She heard his hidden message, then realized what he was saying.  “I’ve got to—“

“—get to her, this way.”  He pulled her through a shortcut closer to Glory’s apartment, then grabbed her for a quick kiss.  Releasing her, he said, “Fly, Buffy!  Hurry!”

~*~

Buffy returned about an hour later.  She walked like she was sore, left arm limp at her side, but she was upright after a confrontation, and that counted for something.

Spike met her at the mouth of the cave again, his finger to his mouth.  “The Bit’s asleep.  Gives us a minute to talk.  Willow?”

“You were right.  She was there, and about to get crucified against the wall.  I got her out.  She did hurt Glory.  Well, not hurt, exactly.  Slowed her down.”  She leaned against the wall, head down.

“That’s a plus.  At least one of us has some effect on her.”  She looked at him sideways.  “She bloody well kicked my arse.  She kicked yours.  At least Red did something.  Like that teleportation thing.  That means that magick affects her.”

“A clue.  Well, well, Glory.  Maybe might isn’t always right.”



Chapter 24

Buffy closed the distance between her and Spike, and wrapped her arms around him, leaning her head on his shoulder.  Her whole body expanded then shrunk in his arms as she took a deep breath and sighed.  “There’s just never enough time for everything, is there, Spike?”

“I dunno, love.  Vampire.  All kinds of time on my hands.”

She looked up at him.  “Do you ever get bored?”

He shrugged.  “No, not really.  There’s telly.  Manchester United, they’re fun to watch.  Books, music—really, there is a lot more to do since the Industrial Revolution than you know, pet.  Think about reading by candlelight…no wonder everyone wore glasses.”

“Now you sound like schoolboy Spike.  Stop that.  I don’t want to live forever.  I would like to have a nice long life, though.  I wonder, has a Slayer ever retired?”

“Don’t know, pet.  Only know of the one way Slayers are Chosen.  That involves the d word.”

I know, Spike.  I think about it all the time.  Maybe you’re right.  May be I do have a death wish, and just don’t know about it.  Maybe I want to die, so I don’t have to be the Slayer anymore.  She ran it through her head first, then said, “Well, there’s always a first time.  After all, there was never two Slayers before, then I died that first time….”

Spike grimaced above her, out of her sight line.  He didn’t want to think of what would happen if one of them died, especially after being claimed. 

Buffy would survive, if he were dusted.  She may grieve, but she was too strong to succumb to the wasting, both physical and mental, that a claimed vampire that lost his mate would.  A vampire that lost his mate usually dusted or turned into a skeleton.  Albeit, the skeleton could survive, even after a long period dormant, but gallons of human blood would be needed to revive it.  If she died, he didn’t want to unlive anymore. 

Choking on her death and the taste of his own ashes, he bent his head and kissed her forehead, squeezing her gently.  “I love you Buffy.  Just in case I forgot to tell you today.”

“You didn’t forget,” she said quietly.  He could hear the words clamoring to get out, but she still didn’t say it.  Instead, she relied on what was becoming a habit.  She turned her face up to his, and caught his mouth with hers, her fingers combing through his hair. 

He pulled her against his body, needing her heat to warm his suddenly frigid heart.  He tried to hide his thoughts as she probed his mouth with her tongue, but she glimpsed them.  Instead of pulling away like he expected, she redoubled her effort, until she finally had to break their kiss long enough to breath. 

“Spike—I need you.  Now.  Right here.”

“Buffy, what about Dawn?  What—?”

“I’ll be quiet.  Promise.  Just worry about you.”  She dropped to her knees, and worked his belt open, then pulled at the fly of his jeans.  His cock bobbed in her face, droplets of moisture on the tip, and she grasped it gently, running her tongue along the slit to gather it up.  He saw her blissful expression, to his surprise, before she licked her lips, then swallowed him whole. 

She barely moved her head, swallowing hard between breaths to simulate the sensation of being buried inside her.  He threw his head back, unable to breathe, the heat of her mouth inflaming him from the inside out.  He started to groan, then remembered the need for quiet.  The only sound was the wet, sucking noises Buffy was making with her mouth, the susurrus of skin against skin, clothes moving with their occupants.  He ran his fingers through her hair, silk against his fingertips, then she started to move her head and he found it a perfect place to hold on to, ground himself against the shocks coursing through him and centering on the head of his cock.

Buffy smiled at his face, the look of rapture painted there.  She put it there, and was proud of it.  She reached out and caressed his balls, drawn tight against him, and tugged on the loose skin.  He grabbed her head harder, whispering in the dark indistinct phrases she would occasionally snatch out of the silence.  More.  Harder.  Baby.  Love me.  Feeling adventurous, she did something that Cosmo said was sure to drive him wild.  She slid her finger into her mouth on one of her downstrokes, pulled it out, and inserted it into his ass.

He bucked against her like she had a hot poker in her hand.  Didn’t phase her.  She timed the thrusts of her had with the downstrokes, sucking her cheeks in on the upstrokes, and captured his balls in her other hand and rolled them gently in her palm.  She decided to go for broke, and slipped another digit in with the first, and his fingers became claws in her head as he drove his cock to the back of her throat and exploded into her mouth, cool Spike-flavored jism tickling her tastebuds and her nose. 

She licked his cock clean, and sat back on her heels.  “Are you okay?” she asked when she saw him leaned over and shaking, gasping for breath.

“Are you pullin’ one over on me?  Am I okay?”  He reached for her, and pulled her to her feet.  "You little minx.  That was fantastic.  Bleedin’ fantastic.”

He kissed her, and tasted himself on her lips.  “As for you….”

She put her finger over his lips, and shook her head.  “As for me, I need to get Dawn home.  There’s just one more thing.”

She cupped his head with both hands, and kissed him, gently, then deep and rough, her mouth open and receiving as he explored it with his tongue.  She kissed down the side of his neck, and found her scar.  He searched, and found his instinctively, waiting for her to continue. 

She nipped at it with the tip of her incisor, and it split open again under the pressure, not having had time to heal over.  She pulled on his blood, pulled it into her mouth as he slipped into game face and nicked her soft skin.  He sipped a delicate mouthful of her, rolling it around on his tongue as he heard her whisper in the silence of the moment. 

“Mine.”

“Yours forever, Buffy.  Mine?”

She wondered why he made it a question—didn’t he already have the answer?  “Yours, Spike.”

Enthralled

Chapter 25

They were just sitting there, eating together, just like a normal day—if your normal day included a newly-insane lesbian girlfriend you had to spoonfeed and eggplant sandwiches—when the wall was ripped away and a familiar face looked around the corner.

“I know that I told you we weren’t done yet, Slayer. Now, where the hell is my key?”

Buffy gasped, her mind whirling with the possibilities. She could take Dawn and run. She could fight. She could just sit there, play innocent, and hope nobody else got hurt. She had nearly settled for the last option when Tara innocently looked at Dawn and started rattling on and on about the beautiful glowy green light, and Buffy knew that Glory knew, just by the look on her face.

“So there’s my key.” Glory made to step into the room, and Willow threw her hand up, stopping her with hastily spoken Latin. Glory snarled at the witch and her companion, but it didn’t stop her flight into the tree trunk, or cushion her slide to the ground.

Buffy ran, Dawn’s hand in hers. Away. Away from the evil hellgod bitch, away from everything and everyone. Get to Spike. Spike will help us. Spike can hide us again. When Dawn’s feet faltered, she pause long enough to pick her sister up, her long legs dangling and jumping wildly as Buffy kept running, away, away….

Not fast enough, Buffy thought panting, as Glory appeared in front of them. She sat Dawn down, and tried to catch her breath. Too many sundaes for that girl. She stared at the dangerous being in front of them, and waited. It was the only thing left to do.

“I hate it when other people touch my things. Give me my Key, Slayer.”

The whiny voice grated on Buffy’s nerves, and she tightened her lips. “Glory, I have just one thing to say to you.”

“And what’s that?”

“Truck.” The eighteen-wheeler came from out of nowhere, and the hellgod disappeared, plastered to the front of the grille.

Buffy didn’t wait to see if it had any effect. She grabbed Dawn’s hand and ran.

They made it to Restfield in record time for the Slayer dragging an unwilling passenger. They slammed into Spike’s crypt, breathless, and Buffy drew a deep breath to yell at him when his head appeared from the hole in the floor. He was dressed down to his duster, and he had a pair of black goggles around his neck.

“Felt it, pet. You really want to do that? No last stand? No hero?”

“Dawn’s life is on the line. We can’t. We can’t take the chance. We have nothing against her except me, you, and some iffy spells that Willow was working on. We have to.”

“I’ll get transpo. You get the others together.”

“We’ll be at the back of the Magic Box. Meet us there.”

Dawn watched her sister and the unspoken by-play between her and Spike. Buffy kept telling them that she was mad at him, but there was something—heat in their eyes as they looked at one another. Their body language—Spike was in his usual stance, hips jutting forward and shoulders slung back—what Dawn thought of was Big Bad. But the subtle differences…the soft smile on his mouth, his eyes barely crinkly. Maybe it was the position of his hands, lower than she remembered from before, the webs of his thumb outlining his…. Dawn had to stop thinking. Eww—she’d almost thought of Spike’s…spike.

She looked at Buffy, and rolled her eyes. Could she telegraph it more? She was leaning forward, her arms loose at her sides, her mouth hanging open…her eyes centered on Spike’s hands…Dawn hit her sister on the arm, and Buffy looked at her, irritated.

“Just go kiss him already. You’re about to drool, and Spike is going to do permanent damage to his spine if he pushes his hips any more forward. Go on!” She gave Buffy a shove, sending her flying and into Spike’s now open arms.

She collided with him, and stared into his eyes for a split second before their mouths crashed together in a too-brief kiss. She clung to him, terrified at what was to come, and he smiled down at her.

“Don’t worry, pet. We’ll get through this.”

“I know. We’ll meet you at the Magic Box.”

“Stay in the workroom. It’s protected. Keep our link open, you’ll know when I’m coming.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She and dawn raced across town to Xander’s apartment, where she outlined her plan for her friends and Watcher.

“Run? You want us to run?”

“Finally, a good plan,” Anya said sarcastically. “It’s about time.”

“I don’t think it’s that feasible, Buffy. Surely Glory….”

“Surely Glory will kill us all if we stay here. She’ll kill us off, one by one, until it’s only her and Dawn and the end of the world. Is that what you want, Giles?”

“No, I see—I just don’t think that running is our best option. I think we need to consider other tactics—“

“No. We’re leaving town. As soon as possible. Don’t call anyone. Don’t tell anyone. Gather what we need, weapons, supplies, food, and meet me in back of the Magic Shop.” She grabbed Dawn by the hand, and went to the door of the apartment. “Remember, Glory knows who all of us are—what we look like. If you’re thinking of staying behind, you may be signing your death certificate.”

She left the silent apartment, hurt by their doubt. She didn’t see any other out, any way to avoid getting them all killed. She only knew that she couldn’t let Dawn get hurt. Her friends and her Watcher were secondary at this point.

She wanted to wait patiently, but found her feet moving toward a warehouse near Willy’s. Dragging Dawn behind her still, she entered the warehouse and saw a group of vamps trailing in and out of an ancient Winnebago. She felt for her stake in her back pocket, ready to draw it, when she heard Spike inside the motor home, yelling at the vamps.

“Bloody hell, fellas, I have to get this bint on the road. Let’s get the bleeding windows covered now.”

She approached the motor home with Dawn still in tow. “Spike—“

“Slayer! This is bleeding fantastic! Now I don’t have to hunt for you. Get in. We need to get out of here.”

He turned to the vamps, and said, “Promised you she wouldn’t stake you today. Thanks for your help, blokes. ‘Preciate it.”

Buffy turned to face them, a strange feeling inside her. “Yeah, thanks. But get out of Sunnydale. Bad stuff about to happen. Apocalyptic. And if you’re here when I come back, I will have to—uh—do my job. See you, fellas.”

She led Dawn into the Winnebago, and watched Spike distribute…little pieces of paper? She shook her head, and climbed on in, sitting in the passenger seat. She noticed a door in the back of the trailer, and motioned toward it. “Go lay down, Dawnie. I know I’ve dragged you all over town today. Go rest.”

She waited until Spike was settled into the driver’s seat. She couldn’t see, but she could feel the vamps scattering as demons opened the larger doors of the warehouse for them to drive out of. Spike shot her a grin, and turned on the tape deck. The Ramones blasted them in the face as the Winnebago took to the streets.

She reached for him, and he took her hand, gripping it tightly. “Love you, Buffy. Love you and the Bit. Thought maybe you needed to hear it right now.”

“Yeah, I kinda did. Thanks for getting us the ride, honey. Let’s go get the Scoobies and get outta Dodge.”

Enthralled

Chapter 26

Her friends climbed into the Winnebago. Xander held back when he saw Spike in the drivers’ seat, dark goggles covering his sensitive eyes.

“What’s he doing here?”

“He’s here because I want him here. Get over it, Xander. It’s getting really, really old.” Buffy got up from the table, and went to the small room at the back, tired of the bickering and infighting, tired of having to defend her every decision, even down to who was along for the ride. She was just tired; maybe she just needed to lie down.

Spike turned to look over his shoulder at Giles. “Watcher. Come here for a minute.”

Giles moved up to sit in the passenger seat, and Spike lowered his voice. “Gotta get the morale up, Watcher-man. Buffy’s about to crack, and all the fighting is just getting her down.”

“I’ll do what I can. You go talk to her, try to get her settled. This may not be the best plan, but I believe I read in the Book of Tarnis that the hellgod was on a time frame. This may just buy us enough time to save Dawn without Buffy having to do battle with Glory.”

Spike stole a look at the Scoobies sitting at the table behind him, and whispered, “I don’t think they’re sure I can drive anyway.” He slowed the Winnebago and pulled to the side of the road. “You take over.”

Giles slipped into the seat, taking the wheel. “Do what you can with Buffy. I’ll do what I can with the rest of them.”

Spike sidled to the back of the motor home and tapped on the door. He could feel her inside, sensed her fear and hopelessness, and slid the door open before she could reply to his knock. “Slayer. Just sitting here brooding? I’ll have to call you Angel if you keep it up.”

“I’m not brooding!” She looked at him hungrily, then shrugged and looked away. “Okay, so I’m brooding. Not much left to do, is there? Brood and run. That’s all that’s left.”

“If it helps, Watcher said that this Glory bint is working on a time frame. So getting outta town may have been the best idea yet.” He sat next to her on the bed, and pulled her into his arms. “Come on, pet. You’ve gotta get out of that funk. We need you.”

“I don’t—don’t gotta do anything, Spike. I’m the Slayer. And right now, with no vampires to slay, I don’t have anything pressing to do.”

“Hey, vampire here.”

“Not going to slay you. More than likely you’ll slay me.”

He looked at her, opening their link wide, and saw the hopelessness and powerlessness she was burying inside her. She didn’t think they could make it out of this alive. That stunned him. She was the Slayer. She could always…he stopped himself, realizing that he was projecting wishes that couldn’t come true. He thought back to their beginning, that night at the Bronze, when he told her he waited for the one good day. She still thought he was waiting for it. She had no idea about him. About anything.

“Buffy, look at me.” She wouldn’t turn her head, and he pulled gently on her chin to turn her face.

When she finally met his eyes, she was surprised to see the tears shimmering in them. “Buffy, you know I love you.”

“So you said.”

“I’m not letting anything hurt you, pet. Open up. Feel me. Know I’m not lying. You can do that now—tell when a vamp is lying or not.”

She didn’t know that, but she didn’t let him see it. She opened herself, only a crack in her defenses, and the flood of love and devotion that poured into her nearly overwhelmed her. She looked into his eyes, so impossibly blue, and saw his feelings written clearly, for anyone with eyes to see. Without realizing it, she reached up her hand to touch his face, memorizing the planes and valleys, soft and hard spots in its contours.

“You don’t want me to die. You want me to live—with you, forever.”

“Yes, love. More than anything. We have to get through this right now. We can do it together, all of us, if we have you leadin’ us.”

She nodded. Her resolve seemed to strengthen inside her, and she reached up to kiss him before she scooted off the bed. “I need to tell the Scoobs about us, you know. So they know—“

“Now’s not the time, pet. There are more pressing matters.”

“What could be more—“ she started, and an arrow flew through the back window of the motor home and stuck into the wall.

She moved the blinds, careful to keep the sun off Spike, and saw men on horseback, chasing the vehicle. She moved quickly, seeing them gaining, and went to the front of the Winnebago to grab Dawn and shove her under the tiny table. Dodging arrows and a lone axe, she ran haphazardly to the front of the motor home.

“Giles, get us away from them.”

“Giles, get us away. I’ve seen paper airplanes with more power behind them than this thing.” Giles muttered. Regardless, he put his foot to the floor, and the Winnebago leaped forward.

They all heard the same thing at once—footsteps on the roof of the moving vehicle. Buffy looked up, and started to speak, when a sword came slicing down into the interior, barely missing her head. Without conscious thought, Spike grabbed it, preventing it from being withdrawn, and gritted through the painful slicing sensations filling his palm, “Now would be a good time to do something, pet.”

Even as Xander threw her through the hatch in the roof, her mind was screaming about how wrong all this seemed. She quickly threw the knights off the roof, their chain mail no protection against impact as they fell, and tried to kick the grappling hooks off the railing where they had stuck. Not quickly enough, she thought, as she felt the Winnebago swerve under her feet, then tip over….

Enthralled

Chapter 27

Buffy rolled as she fell, jarring her shoulder painfully, but coming to a stand as she watched the Winnebago tip onto it’s side. Her heart was in her throat as she thought of the damage a rollover could do to a person—or a vampire. There was a lot of wood in that damn thing….

She ran to the motor home, her feet tripping over the ruts in the dirt where it slid across the soft soil. In a single leap, she was on top of it, kneeling by one of the windows on the side and smashing her fist through it, afraid to look at the carnage inside.

Surprisingly, she found little carnage. Willow and Tara were tangled up on what was now the floor of the Winnebago. Xander helped Anya to her feet, and Spike had Dawn wrapped possessively in his arms, her head cushioned against his chest. Giles….

Her breath caught in her throat as she realized that Giles was still in the drivers’ seat, his condition a mystery. She climbed down into the wrecked vehicle, and made her way to the front, ducking her head and gasping when she saw him there, the huge head wound bleeding profusely. Blood dripped down his nose to splash on the floor far beneath him, and by the looks of the puddle, it had been bleeding for a while.

“Spike!” she yelled over her shoulder. “Get over here.”

Spike appeared at her side, and she pointed at the Watcher’s forehead. “Can you seal that up? Lick it or something?”

“Buffy, do you really think….”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Spike, don’t get all girly on me now. We can’t afford to leave a blood trail to wherever we get to. Can you seal it up, or are you going to be worthless to me?” She knew she was being rough on him, but she needed him, damn it and he better well get to the helping.

Spike leaned forward, hearing Xander splutter uselessly behind him, and pressed a kiss to the Watcher’s forehead. Surreptitiously, he laved the laceration with his tongue, his lips hiding the action from the Scoobies over his shoulder.

Xander made a disgusted noise, and Willow gave a small eep of surprise, but Buffy’s glare in their direction silenced any objections. Anya watched the vampire with interest, and Dawn just stared with wide eyes. Spike pulled away, and the laceration was sealed and barely visible against Giles’ ashen face.

“We need to get out of here, get moving. Xander, start helping the girls out. Spike, help me get Giles out of this seat.” She reached for the seatbelt, thankful he had buckled in, and between the two of them were able to maneuver Giles out of the drivers’ seat and into the back of the motor home. Willow was assisting Tara out through the window, Xander reaching for her from the outside, and Dawn was the only one left beside them.

Spike reached for his Slayer, and her pain reverberated through him. “Buffy, you’re hurt.”

“Oh, I landed wrong on my shoulder. It’ll be all right.”

“Let me help.” He moved behind her, and while Xander helped Dawn out of the camper, Spike massaged her shoulder through her clothes. A little push and the tissues were mended. Another benefit of the bond, she thought, and sent her gratitude across to him. He smiled down at her, then together they lifted Giles to the waiting arms above.

She turned to Spike after Giles was up on the side of the overturned vehicle, and said, “You stay here until we’re all down. You can make the jump?”

“Easily, Slayer. I’m no nancy boy.”

“Good. I’ll call for you when we’re ready to move.”

Bunching her muscles, she leaped through the window and landed on the side. She almost had to laugh—Xander looked like he swallowed a bird, and Willow’s eyes were on the huge side. Dawn rolled her eyes, and mouthed ‘show-off’, and Buffy did let loose with a peal of laughter.

She shrugged off her friends’ stares, and started helping them get to the ground. When Xander finally got down, she picked Giles up and handed him gently down. She was a little concerned at him not waking with all the movement, but they couldn’t possibly stay here. If the knights were on their tail, she knew that Glory wasn’t far behind.

When they were all on the ground, Buffy concentrated hard, and gave Spike the go-ahead to jump out. He was by her side in two leaps, and swaddled in a blanket. Thick leather gloves covered his hands, and the goggles were back in place. The group started hoofing it, with Buffy and Xander supporting Giles between them in the lead, and Spike smoking from the sunlight, bringing up the rear.

In the distance, Buffy could see an old gas station. It seemed abandoned, from the looks of the outside, but in places like this, one could never tell. Still, she angled their path toward it, knowing that Spike couldn’t smolder like that for very long before he really did burst into flame. Plus, they needed to get Giles laid down and see about his injury.

They made the hike in a surprisingly short amount of time, maybe because desperation was overtaking them all. They slammed through the boarded up door, and closed it behind them. Buffy and Spike pushed a vending machine onto its side and shoved it violently in front of the door. She turned, and rushed over to Xander, trying to lift Giles onto the countertop. They got him positioned somewhat comfortably, a rolled jacket under his neck, and Buffy turned to Willow.

“Do you know a barrier spell? A protection spell?””

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that, Buffy.” Willow grabbed the spellbook that she’d brought along, and started chanting in Latin.

Buffy went to Dawn, who was shaking in the corner. “Are you all right, Dawnie?”

“I think so. I didn’t get hurt when we rolled. Spike saved me. I think he’s hurt, though.”

Buffy walked over to Spike. “How are you?”

“Think I cracked a couple of ribs when the Bit landed on me, but I’ll be okay. She bandaged my hands for me earlier, when the Winnebago was still upright. Go check on the Watcher, pet. He shouldn’t have been out this long.”

She went back to Giles’ side, and opened his shirt. She remembered something from watching the paramedics work on her mom, and ground her knuckles into his chest. He groaned and moved his head in response, and Buffy turned to the little group. “He’ll be okay. I think. He responded, anyway. Let’s sit him up, see if we can do anything with him.”

They propped Giles up, and eventually he came around. His glasses were gone, left back in the motor home where they had been knocked off his face in the accident, but he could clearly see the worry in the eyes of his charges.

“I do believe that I will be all right, after a bit. I had the strangest dream about Spike kissing me, however. It must have been from the blow on the head.”

“You know what they say about dreams, Rupert. Subconscious desires.” Spike licked his teeth with his pointed tongue, and Buffy’s mouth went dry at the memory of what that tongue could do.

“Spike, enough. He did kiss you, Giles. To stop your forehead from bleeding, and leaving a trail. Okay?”

She clearly saw doubt, but Giles voiced nothing. “What is our next move then, Buffy?”

“We need transportation. We need to get you seen by a medical professional. We need to get out of here before the chainmail dudes get here.”

“Too late.” Xander interrupted her with the bad news, but she was pleased to see that the barrier that Willow had erected was holding them and their weapons at bay. Two priests stepped up to the barrier, and she saw them reporting to the commanding presence behind them, then they laid their hands on the barrier and began to pray.

“Still, they can’t get in—yet. Giles, is there anyone we can call? Do you have any ideas?”

“None, Buffy. I’m not sure of the time frame that Glory has to work in, but it can’t be too much longer. Her search has been more frantic the last few days, so it must be soon.”

“Yeah. So, is that all that we’re waiting for? Glory’s metaphysical clock to go off?”

“I suppose it is, Buffy.” Giles badly needed to clean his absent glasses. Instead, he pinched the bridge of his nose between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. “Until the time is up, Dawn is still a target. For Glory, and for the gentlemen outside.”

“Do you think if we told them about the time thingie, it would make a difference?”

Giles looked out the window, and turned back to his Slayer. “Perhaps, but I feel a certain doubt that it will do any good.”

Enthralled

Chapter 28

Buffy and Xander made their way to the barrier, and spoke to the General in charge. At least, Buffy thought he was a general—his forehead tattoo was much bigger than the other ones’, and he was the one everyone seemed to be listening to.

“So—what can I do for you guys?”

“We seek the Key. The Key is the abomination. The abomination must be destroyed. Such is the will of God.”

“Okay. Which God?”

The general looked stunned. “Why, the one true God.”

Buffy nodded, pretending to understand. “All right, we established that. Which true God. There are a lot of them, I’m told.”

The General frowned at her. What was this girl doing, asking about God? Did she never attend religious services? “There is only one God.”

“For you, maybe. For others? Not so sure. So, which God did you say you were doing this for?”

“We do not have to justify our actions to you. You are only a girl. We seek to protect the Key from the Damned one, Glorificus. She who has no name.”

“And I just thought you called her Glorificus. Hmph. Well, anyway—will you be stopping her when she gets here?”

“When she gets here? You didn’t give her the Key, did you?”

“No. She found out by accident who she was. But I’m sure that she isn’t far behind, and so I say again—you going to stop her when she gets here?”

“G-glorificus is coming here?” The man almost looked sick.

“Well, I don’t know, you see. Any kind of spell that we could possibly do can’t get through the barrier, and we can’t drop the barrier to let you in, and without the spell, we really can’t tell where Glory is, so, yeah, she might be coming here. Why?”

The general paled even further, and his skin took on a greenish tone. “If we call truce, long enough for you to do your spell, will you inform us to Glorificus’ whereabouts?”

Buffy grinned. “Yeah, I think we can do that. If you call a truce, that is. Are you calling a truce? No trying to rush the place and kill my sister?”

“We knew that they created the Key in the form of a human girl, but we did not know that she was your sister.”

“Well, if it makes any difference, I’m not just a sister. I’m the Slayer.”

The General fell to his feet. “The prophecy!” he breathed. “The prophecy has finally come to pass in my day.” He put his forehead to the ground and started chanting. All around him, chainmailed men bowed their foreheads to the ground.

When the chanting became annoying, which was quickly, Buffy cleared her throat. There was instant silence. “Uh, why don’t you come with us, and give us a little background for all this. So far, we’ve come up with nothing, and a little storytelling will go a long way, at this point.” A door opened in the barrier, and Buffy reached and pulled the man through before they could react. “I’ll have him back to you in a jiff. Just—stay there. And don’t kill any of us. Or each other. Just stay there.” She marched the general into the abandoned gas station, and closed the door firmly behind her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“How are your hands?”

Spike looked up at the frightened girl, and his heart ached for her. Buffy was outside talking to the Renaissance Fair rejects, Willow was dividing her time between caring for Tara and Giles, and Anya was just…Anya. He held his arms out, and she almost fell into them, sobs already tearing from her throat.

“They want to kill me, you know. Because I’m the Key.”

Spike looked down at the top of her head. “Well, then, Bit. You gonna let them do that?”

She looked up at him, blue eyes falling into blue eyes. “I don’t want to die. I don’t think that any of us wants to die. But if there’s a choice…if it means me or Buffy—Spike, do everything you can to save her. Keep her alive.”

Spike silently considered her request, knowing instinctively that it went against everything Buffy had preached. He lowered his head, and the tone of Dawn’s voice brought it right back up.

“I know you love her. I can see it. I can see a lot of things now, and…well…I know what I have to do. If the portal opens. Buffy will try. But it can’t be her. It has to be me. Either way. Either you keep her safe, or we both die.”

Spike felt the hairs on his neck at attention, and he knew somehow that the closer it came to the ritual, the more Dawn came into her power. He could feel power thrumming through the lanky form that he held, and found himself curious how or if it could help.

Spike looked across the room to where Willow sat against the wall with her lover, trying to keep Tara from injuring herself. “Red. You got a moment?”

Willow climbed to her feet, and walked over to them. “Red—can you, uh, feel power?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that. Why?”

“Put your hands on the Bit.”

Willow did as he asked, and he saw her eyes widen to platter size in her face. Knowledge filled her mind, knowledge the monks had poured into Dawn’s head until the right trigger, the right power released it. Dawn’s head snapped back, her eyes wide and completely green, green light flowing like a river from her eyes, nose and mouth.

Which was the first thing Buffy saw when she entered the garage with the General.

Enthralled

Chapter 29

“What the hell?”

Buffy was across the room and pulling Dawn away from Willow and Spike before either one of them could speak.

“Dawn. Dawn!” She shook her sister, her head unmoving, rigid, as Buffy flung her body with all her Slayer strength. The green light intensified, and then went out, and Dawn turned brilliant green eyes on the Slayer.

“Take me to the place. I must do what I was created for.”

“What were you created for?”

“I am a Key. I am also a weapon. To use the Key, the user must die. Must sacrifice herself. Glorificus will not be able to use the Key. Glorificus will die.”

The General stepped forward. “The Key is abomination! The Key must be destroyed! Such is the will of God!”

Dawn stood, suddenly graceful in her movements, and touched a fingertip to the man’s tattooed forehead. His jaw went slack and his eyes blank as a green spark shot through her finger to his brain. He blinked, and came back to himself, having seen in his minds’ eye the Key’s use. He fell to his knees, and murmured prayers echoed softly in the room.

“I thank you Slayer, for caring for the Body of the Key. Take me to Glorificus now, so the end might come, and the trials be over.”

“Dawnie, you’ll die. It’s your blood.” Buffy looked sadly at her sister. She had come to love her, and she certainly didn’t want to lose her. Not to the hellgod bitch. Not to anyone. If she did, she would be alone again….

No, never alone. Her eyes reached across the room to Spike, where he sat against the wall. Never alone again.

She turned back to the Key who was once her sister. “Okay, Dawnie. We’ll go kill the great big hellgod.”

“No. I alone must do this. I alone have the power. I alone am the Key.”

She watched Dawn walk across the room to lay her hand on Giles’ forehead, then turned to Spike. “What do I do?”

“She has her destiny, pet. We all do. You can’t keep her from it. But, bloody hell, we aren’t staying here. It’s the musketeers all over again, innit? All for one, and one for all.”

“Yeah.” She saw Giles’ sitting up, looking at Dawn with that baffled Watcher look. “Transportation?”

“I’ll give Clem a call. His cousin owns a used-car lot. I’m sure he can get us transpo.” He moved over to where Willow stood, spoke briefly to her, and they both went searching for the payphone they’d seen in their reconnaissance of the station.

Buffy turned next to the General. “Okay, and you?”

“We will not destroy the Key. We were…misinformed about her power. She is not evil.”

“So, she’s good then.”

“No. She is…neutral. Unable, and unwilling to choose a side. She tells truth about Glorificus. The hellgod will never be able to use her for her purposes. The rituals she has are worthless with the Key in its human form. It must be in another form for the ritual to work.”

“What form?”

“The Key did not see me worthy of enlightenment.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. God, talking to this guy was like…nothing she’d ever done before. She saw Spike return, and went to catch his arm, drawing him into the Scooby circle with Giles, Xander, Anya, and Dawn. Willow followed them, and she began to speak in low urgent tones.

“Forehead man over there said that Dawn is unusable to Glory in her present form. The rituals she has are useless while Dawnie is human. Is that right, Dawn?”

“Yes. She must distill me to my basic essence. Every moment wasted is another moment she could be destroyed. We must leave.”

“We will. We need a plan. She has to have time to…distill you?”

“Yes. It takes many spells, many days.”

“So she ran out of time a long time ago, she’s just too stupid to see. Okay. She wants the Key. We’ve got the Key. She doesn’t know she’s already screwed. We do. She doesn’t know the Key can destroy her. We do. As I see it, we have a big advantage over her now, don’t we?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we have the Key, and the Slayer, and a powerful witch, and…and Spike.” Willow ended lamely.

“Thanks Red. Feeling the love.”

“Sorry, Spike. A master vampire turned good. Was that better?”

“Yeah.” Spike looked over the witch’s shoulder, and nudged his chin. “What about Glinda? Can’t we do something for her?”

“We can heal her. If Willow will be a bridge, we can replace what Glory took. And more.”

Willow looked at Dawn, hope radiating from her eyes. “Do you think we can?”

“Yes. If you are willing to be the bridge, all can be repaired.”

“Spike?”

“Clem’s bringing a couple of vans. Figured the Watcher may need to lay down, and we gotta get there fast.”

“We’ll meet at the Magic Box, then. Any other suggestions?”

“How about the Dagon Sphere? That’s supposed to repel evil. Probably Glory, since Glory is evil,” Anya said.

“Good. Anything else?”

“What about the Troll God’s hammer?” Xander asked.

“Good.”

“We have the ‘Bot. Gotta have some use, all that Slayer programming.”

Spike’s voice was quiet, but all movement stopped when Buffy rounded on him. “A diversion. Good thinking. She won’t expect two of me. Much less anything like that.”

“She won’t expect anything we’re going to throw at her, pet. Not one bit of it. She’s a god. She thinks she can do anything.” Spike said.

“We’ll just have to show her that she can’t.”

Enthralled

Chapter 30

Two vehicles full of people left a deserted gas station in the desert toward a little town west-southwest, where they were going to attempt to avert apocalypse. Again. Spike drove a sedan with Buffy next to him, with Giles and Dawn in the back seat. Clem drove the van, his cousin Clyde in the passenger seat, and Willow, Tara, Anya and Xander on the bench seats in back. Spike drove like a bat out of hell, and Clem right behind him, all the way back to Sunnyhell.

They pulled the car and van in back of the Magic Box, and Clyde took the wheel of the car when Spike got out. “Clem, catch up with me later, okay? I owe you kittens.”

“Anything for you and the Slayer, Spike. Good luck, you guys!” Clem drove off with a wave. He was one of the few harmless demons in Sunnydale, and Buffy wondered idly if it ever would be necessary to kill one such as Clem. She highly doubted it. He respected her, Spike, and her friends more than that.

She watched the taillights disappear, then turned to Spike. “Why can’t there be more friendly, harmless demons like Clem, and fewer hellgods?”

“Not as much fun. Not nearly as much, pet.”

She went into the shop, where Giles sat at the table, drinking tea. His head was plastered, and his color was better. He had found an older pair of glasses, and was polishing them when she sat down next to him.

“So, lets go over this ritual again.”

“Glory believes that Dawn’s blood will open a portal. As living energy, Glory knows that some essence of Dawn must be ‘poured out’, so to speak, much as you would empty a vessel. Once the energy stops the portal closes. In actuality, we cannot ascertain exactly what will happen.”

“Why blood?” Xander asked, confusion on his face.

Tara yelled into the moment of silence, “Please, I have somewhere to be, someplace to go.” After a brief glance, the group looked back at Giles for Xander’s answer.

The answer, however, came from Spike. “It’s always got to be the blood. Blood is life. It’s what makes you burn. What makes you alive. What makes you warm, and hard. It’s always the blood. Pretty simple, even for you, whelp.”

Xander started to rise from the chair, and Giles extended his hand, placed it against his chest. “Spike is right.”

“Hey, mark it down, Buffy, Rupert said I was right.”

“Much as I hate to agree with Spike, and I do hate it, it is usually the blood sacrifice. However—this new power that Dawn is exhibiting right now is a variable that we cannot predict.”

“What if the ritual begins?” Willow asked innocently.

“If the ritual begins—” Giles started, and Buffy interrupted him.

“We are so not talking about this.”

“Buffy—“

“No, Giles. You can’t expect—you can’t ask—“

“Buffy, we bloody will talk about it!” His voice was harsh, but his face was tortured by what he had to say. “If the ritual starts, then the ritual must end—with Dawn.”

Dawn looked at the group surrounding the table, her green glowing eyes peaceful. “There will be no need. Glorificus cannot use the Key in its present form.”

“See? No need. From the Key, who knows.” Buffy waved her arms at Dawn. “And if the ritual does start—the last thing that she’ll see is her sister protecting her. She’s part of me. Maybe the only part that will last. The memories can be faked, but the feelings can’t, Giles. Believe me, I know.” She looked over Giles’ shoulder at Spike. “I love you all, but I cannot and will not kill my sister to save you.”

She turned her back for a moment, shoulders slumped, then she straightened, and when she faced them again, she was in complete control of herself. “Okay. Willow, you and Giles work on the bot. See what you can do with her. Xander, you and Anya go look for the Dagon Sphere. Dawn, are you in there?”

“Dawn inhabits the Key.”

“Yeah, but will the Key listen and follow orders?”

A mulish look appeared on her face, and her lip protruded in a pout eerily reminiscent of Buffy’s. “The Key will follow the orders of the Slayer.”

“Good.” For once, Buffy thought. “Dawn, you take care of Tara for me. Watch her, don’t let her get out of the shop. But don’t hurt her.”

“I will. Buffy.”

“Spike—you come with me. We’ll need weapons to fight the minions.”

He followed her to her house. She opened up the front door, talking over her shoulder at him the entire time. It was only as she started up the stairs that she realized he was still on the porch.

“You don’t have to—just hand me the weapons through the door. I—“

“Come in, Spike.”

He looked at the door, wonder in his eyes. He touched the doorframe, whispering, “Three little words.” At her look, he snapped back to himself, and headed to the weapons chest in the front room. “I’ll get the big stuff—“

“Spike—“

He busied himself until he could no longer ignore the call of the claim. Her energy buzzing around him, through him, he couldn’t deny her anything. He came to her, stood calmly in front of her, and looked her in the eye. “You know, we’re not all gonna make it.”

“That’s okay, Buffy. Always knew that I’d go out in fists and fangs. Better that way.”

“Spike…if…take care of Dawn for me. Please?”

“I promise, love. Until death.” He started to reach for her, and paused. She didn’t need more on her mind.

She started up the stairs, and sudden need prompted him to speak. “I know you’ll never be able to tell me you love me, but you treat me like a man. You don’t know what it means to me.”

She turned, and came back down. “What do you mean?”

He couldn’t answer. He couldn’t even look her in the eyes. He stared at the carpeting on the stairs behind her, and waited. She lifted her hand, and caressed his sharp, sculpted cheekbone, down into the hollow, and back around to the short curls gracing his neck. “I love you, William. William Atherton, William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers. I love you.”

Tears formed at the corners of his eyes, and she kissed them away. “Come with me—we have some time yet.”

She took him by the hand and led him up the staircase to her room.

Enthralled

Chapter 31

She paused inside her doorway. She turned to him with hooded, faraway eyes, and caressed the palm of his hand. “I thought you could see into me, with the claim and all. I thought that you could tell.”

“Sometimes a man just needs to hear the words out loud, princess.”

“Spike, I love you.” She dragged him to her, his feet unwilling to move, and she covered his mouth in little kisses. “I love you.” She kissed down the side of his neck to her mark, pushing his shirt aside to expose it completely. “I love you,” she whispered against it, and she took it in her mouth, worried it with her teeth and tongue for a moment, then bit down. As the blood seeped into the shallow depressions of her teeth, she licked gently at the scar, and whispered against his skin, “I love you, and you’re mine forever.”

“Yours forever,” he said, a dreamy look in his eye.

She pulled aside her shirt to give him her throat. “Your turn.”

His game face slipped into place, almost unconsciously, and he grazed his mark with his teeth and fangs. Laving her sweetness with his tongue, he slipped his fangs gently into the skin, then pulled them away from her, allowing her sweet nectar to ooze into his mouth. “Mine.”

“Yours. Only yours, Spike.” She reached for him and he for her, and they met in the middle. Their actions were almost fumbling in their haste, but clothing was thrown helter-skelter and she was ready for him when he pushed into her. She pushed his back against the wall, grabbing his biceps with incredible strength, and rammed her body onto his cock until it crashed into the deep end of her tight quim.

He threw his head back, growling deep in his throat, and grasped her hips, his fingers indenting her skin. There was primal need and wanton lust in their every move. Once again, the world depended on them, and they had to steal this moment, but it was a moment that they would take for themselves. He looked into her gorgeous eyes, eyes that drank his every move, and poured himself into her. He opened the claim wide, and realized she’d already done so when they were blinded by the scintillation that was their love, freely given and freely admitted.

Tears blurred her face as he watched her move on him. She ground her clit against his pubic bone, twisting him inside her to touch everywhere, her heat, her love. Her mouth ground against his, tongues clashing and battling for dominance. Her nails scored his arms, the scent of blood crisp on the still air.

She clenched herself around him like a fist, and lowered her mouth to his neck, grinding her teeth into her mark. The sensations went straight through his gut to his cock, and he erupted inside her, the cool semen oozing out as she continued to grind on him. His fangs slipped down and into his mouth as he jetted inside her, and he gripped his mark on her in them, not loosening like he usually did, but kept her clamped in place with his hands and mouth.

He loosed his grip in time for her to come, her body bowed and wracked with spasms of ecstasy, her mouth gibbering love and want and need as she jerked on the end of his cock. She tossed her head, whipping them both with her hair, and screamed his name before she hung on him limply, completely spent.

Their claim thrummed through the small room, reverberating off the walls and ricocheting throughout the house. Spike looked at his Slayer, and the power they had invoked hit them both with a rush, energizing them. She pulled her hair into a knot as she strutted through the room, dressing quickly and gathering various items. He rearranged himself, and watched her in awe, the concentration on her face, the electrical pull of her.

She paused, and smiled at him, and he saw the Warrior deep in her eyes. She pressed her lips to his, and he tasted his own borrowed blood.

“Let’s go kick some ass, baby,” she said, flying down the stairs.

Enthralled

Chapter 32

Glory wasn’t hard to find. They followed Tara’s addled musings through the streets of Sunnydale all the way to the tower over in the warehouse district. It rose malignantly into the night sky, and they could clearly see tiny people and showers of sparks as last minute things were fixed and built.

Buffy, Dawn, and Spike walked closely behind Tara and Willow as the group approached the construction site. The others trailed closely behind, watching their backs as they approached.

Tara entered the site, knowing she was needed to help the others. She picked up a brick, and was stopped by a hand on her arm. “Hey, it’s that witch, the one who hangs with the Slayer. Who let her in here? They’ll just let anyone come to an apocalypse nowadays, won’t they?” Glory said, about to turn away.

Willow stepped between the two girls, grabbing Glory’s hair. “She’s with me,” she said, then twisted her hand and pushed with power into the hellgod’s head. The other hand she pushed into Tara, and the three were joined by blinding blue-tinged light as Willow chanted under her breath. She funneled Tara’s borrowed essence out of the hellgod, draining her of Tara, and pulled out everything she could, before the power of the spell overwhelmed all three, blowing them apart. Willow crawled to her lover, cradling her head in her lap as she waited for her to come to.

Glory picked herself up off the ground, dizzy and weak. She felt so empty inside, as if she had been forced into the dark, dirty room. She put her hand to her forehead, whimpering, “What did that little bitch do to me?”

“I don’t know, but whatever she started, I plan to finish.” Glory looked up to see the puny Slayer, flanked by her vampire and her Key.

“Well, at least you’ve learned some manners. Thanks for bringing me my Key, finally. Let’s go, sugar, rituals to do.” She reached for Dawn, grabbing her by the hand, and started to walk away, and was jerked to a halt when Dawn didn’t move. “What the frick is going on here? I need you to do my ritual. Come on.”

Dawn’s voice was eerie, and the green glow started to form behind her eyes. “Buffy, Spike, move back.”

They stepped away from her, and she started to glow even brighter. “Glorificus, your search has been for naught. The Key is of no use to you in its present incarnation, and your window of opportunity has closed. There is no return to your dimension. No place where you are welcome, especially here.”

The Scoobies watched, awestruck, as Dawn began to rise off the ground, a silent wind whipping through her hair. Emerald light shot out of her eyes as she rose, and Glory was pinned in place, her minions around her frozen with terror and the power emanating from the Key. Her arms at her sides, she began to spin, her voice all around them as she moved, echoing in the still night air.

“The Key chooses—you do not like this dimension, then we will send you into the void, with nothing and no one. You will be alone for all eternity and beyond.” Beneath Dawn’s feet, a small pinhole of black nothingness began to grow, and she spun even faster, her features a blur in the light.

To Buffy, the world was moving in slow motion, her sister spinning like a crazy top, and the green light blinding her. She reached for Spike’s hand as he reached out to her, and they gripped each other in the growing maelstrom of light and sound that was coming from where Dawn had been moments before.

Together, they watched as Glory seemed to stretch, then pull like taffy, then she was sucked into the baseball-size black hole in the center of the green spinning light. The lumpy minions followed her one by one, and when the last were through, the hole closed with an audible pop that pressed against the eardrums and eyes.

The spinning light slowed and Dawn stood in front of them again, looking like herself. Then she slumped to the ground, and Buffy rushed forward to grab her before she hit, Spike right behind her.

Dawn opened her eyes, and Buffy saw the irises had changed from clear blue to jade green. As the glow faded, the color remained, and the strange voice echoed around them once again. “The Key is finished, and needed no more. The Key will now depart.” Dawn closed her eyes, and her head fell back onto Buffy’s arm.

Buffy raised her voice to the sky and howled.

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