CHAPTER FIVE

A/N: Oh dear, it's been an awfully long time again. I promise I haven't given up on this. I've simply been distracted by work and as of the last week, an obsession with Twilight. I'm on book three now and I'm hooked. But fear not, Spike will always be my favourite vampire... Anyway I hope you enjoy this update.


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She supposed it was time to get on with her life once more – to return to her duty. It had been mere days since her return to life, and a single day since she had told Spike the truth about her post-death experience. She had been haunted by the expression in his eyes for two days now. She could only imagine her friends with the same expression and it twisted at her heart. How could she ever tell them? She couldn’t. So she lied. She thanked them for ‘saving’ her, pretended that she was happy – and tried not to think about that perfect, warm place too much.


And now it was time to resume her duty as the Slayer. She felt an anticipation close to dread as she headed out into the darkness of Sunnydale, hoping she would remember, hoping she had lost none of her skills in the one hundred and forty seven days she had been gone. He had counted. She didn’t quite know what to think of that. She never really knew what to think of this new Spike, the one who was not her enemy. Even now, as he trailed her at some distance through town. She pretended not to notice as he stalked her and instead was glad that he stayed back. It would be too hard to look him in the eye now that he knew her secret. And she wasn’t sure she would be able to bear his hurt, sorrowful expression.


She was all too glad when distraction presented itself in the form of two vampires up ahead. No more than fledglings, by the look of it; something easy to start with. A chance to get back into the swing of things. She strolled up casually, her hand wrapped around her stake – hidden behind her back.

“Whatcha doing?” she asked in a childlike voice as she got close to them.

They stopped their conversation and turned to her, predatory grins spreading across their faces.

“Well, well, what we got here?” one of them asked, giving her a leer.

“She looks tasty.”

“Tasty?!” she echoed, “Is that all I get? Hello! Slayer here! Yummy Slayer’s blood.”

“I heard the Slayer was dead,” one of them spoke up, challenging her.

“You heard wrong.”

She leapt forward and punched the vampire in the face. He recoiled, growled, and then squared his shoulders, preparing for battle. His friend did the same and she settled into a fighting position, waiting for their move.


They flew at her and she managed to dodge one as she landed a kick on the other, sending him flying into a nearby grave. She laughed and ducked under the first vampire’s arm as he threw a punch at her. He growled and lashed out at her again – and this time, she was too slow. His blow made her head spin but she righted herself quickly. This time he smiled and his friend rejoined them, both of them facing of against her. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as she had thought.

They flew at her again and she managed to deflect one, but the other caught her and sent her to the ground. She rolled quickly to her feet once more, rubbing her sore arm with a slight frown. Something didn’t feel right. Her limbs felt heavy, delayed as she fought them; it felt like too much hard work. Maybe she really was rusty after all that time rotting in the ground. She frowned and ducked another hit. She spun into a kick, but was surprised when it barely hit the target. The vampire smiled and it was then that she genuinely started to worry.

Taking advantage of her distraction, the second vampire managed to grab her from behind and for a moment, she panicked. She struggled and kicked out as the other vampire approached her. She felt the slightest graze of fangs against her neck and – in a moment of madness – she froze. His fangs pierced her neck and she let out a cry.


Suddenly, she was released and she stumbled to the ground, watching on in a daze as a blur of black quickly took out both vampires in a matter of seconds. It was Spike, of course. He stood in front of her, looking down at her in concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked with a frown.

“Yeah,” she whispered shakily, getting to her feet slowly.

His eyes slid to her neck, to the hand she now held there and she saw his nostrils flare before he moved closer, moving her hand aside and inspecting the wound.

“Need to clean you up.”

“I’m fine,” she protested weakly.

“You won’t be before long. You smell far too tempting.”

She frowned and he took her elbow, surprising her with his forwardness.

“Come on.”

He was already steering her onwards and she looked up at him in surprise.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking you somewhere to get cleaned up.”

“I can’t go to the shop,” she spoke up when she realised the direction he was taking, “They’ll just worry.”

He frowned but without a word, he shifted course, now guiding her – almost pushing her – in the direction of his crypt.


They reached his crypt and he somewhat forcefully sat her down on a sarcophagus before disappearing into the lower part of the crypt and returning moments later with a first aid kit. He placed it on the sarcophagus beside her and stood regarding her for a long moment. She shrank under his gaze and turned her eyes from his. He went into motion then, opening the kit and taking out some wipes. He swept her hair to the side and began to clean the wound silently. She could feel his eyes on her, burning into her and she dropped her gaze to the floor. There was something very strange about Spike tending to her wounds.

“It’s been a long time since I got bit.”

She raised her eyes hesitantly to his and saw his frown.

“They were fledglings. Shouldn’t have been able to get so close. What happened?”

“I – I don’t know.”

“You were slower,” he pointed out, his eyes drifting to her neck as he carefully cleaned the damaged skin.

“I know.”

“Weaker too.”

“I guess so,” she whispered helplessly.

There was an awkward silence as he finished applying a dressing to her neck and she could almost see his mind working as he packed the first aid kit away.

“I guess it’s only natural,” he murmured, “You’ve only just-“

“Yeah,” she breathed, clutching at the idea, “I’ll be fine in no time. I’m just… rusty.”

“Yeah,” he echoed softly, his eyes holding hers – searching for something.

“I should really go,” she muttered, dragging her gaze from his and sliding from the sarcophagus.

“Buffy,” he called and she paused, turning back to face him, “Be careful.”

She wanted to tease him – her former enemy – for his concern but something in his expression stopped her and she swallowed hard and nodded once.