Chapter 27

Spike ran, his heavily booted feet thudding against the sidewalk. He extended his senses; searching for Buffy again. Twice in one evening he had been filled with panic, chasing around after her on the streets of Sunnydale. His duster whirled behind him, it's inky blackness gleaming under the streetlights. Spike's bare chest on display for anyone to appreciate; his sharply defined stomach muscles flexed as he panted unnecessarily.

Mentally he railed at himself for being a secretive git-- he should haven been up front with Buffy from the moment he had scented Joyce. He still didn't understand why he had been all cloak and dagger. Usually he was in your face and not couching the truth with pretty words. But this was Buffy, his Slayer and love of his unlife, and the need to protect his childe was instinctive.

Spike grimaced at the memory of the embrace with Joyce and the first inhalation of the scent-- and all the secrets it carried with it. The odour of incipient decay still lingered in his nostrils and coated the back of his throat with its sweet cloying taste. It sickened him - filled him with terror and sorrow. He hated Joyce for reminding him that mortals were fragile beings, that they were helpless in the face of some diseases and even more powerless in the face of death.

The ever-present spectre in a mortal's life. But this mortal was Buffy's Mum.

That was why Angel had fought against the odds to save her - to eek out a few more years for Joyce on this mortal coil. All for one person, the pain in the arse childe that he was chasing after with his dead heart in this throat.

He tried to ignore the spasms of hurt that were thudding through his body; her fury at what they had done made him ache and not in a good way. All they had been doing was trying to protect her from more stress-- he and Angel. Because he loved her, and so did Angel. Spike mentally retched at the fact he had acknowledged the enormous Poofter's love for Buffy. He would have to scrub out his mind with some marathon sessions of shagging Buffy to recover – well, if she let him near her divine bod ever again, Spike ruefully amended.

Until he had come to Sunnydale, his only concern for humans and their limited life spans was how long they'd last once he got his fangs into them. Extend their life by sipping at their fear tainted blood so as to prolong his pleasure. Until Buffy and her coterie of friends and family, humans had never been anything but food.

Since he had been turned, he had never worried about a mortal's health. Well, except for the one time. Spike's mind shied away from the taboo subject of his mother. Even now over a century later her cruel, disgusting and mocking words filled his mind with horror. That monster had not been his gentle sweet mum - but at the end, when he finally staked her, the look in her eyes had been so familiar that every now and then, when he allowed himself to think about it, Spike was filled with terror. Had that been his mum? Or the demon that had tried to shag him? And if it had been his mum - then god help her.

Something tweaked at the edges of his senses – thankfully, pulling his mind away from the memories of his Mum and her attempt to seduce him.

It was Buffy.

Someone was with her - someone she really didn't want to be anywhere near. Spike's feet carried him on in the direction of his girl.

*********

"I have been wondering when we would meet again. I sensed your much anticipated return to the Hellmouth - that evening was enlightening viewing," he added snidely.

Buffy blinked. He had been perving over her and Spike? A sickness blossomed in the pit of her stomach that the Master vampire infront of her had been witness to their lovemaking.

The calm tenor of his voice belied the jealousy and anger he felt towards both the Aurelian vampires for their intimate and loving relationship - one he had witnessed first hand. One he had watched with obsessive intensity, envy filling his entire undead being; he had never experienced what Spike and Buffy had. He had berated himself over and over for giving his prize up so quickly. The love, the depth of emotional connection and the joy they took in each other. Instead, he experienced only fleeting moments of pleasure at the hands of his victims - only achieved through his thralling of them. Only his Brides offered themselves willingly - and now he was left with only
one.

Buffy stood on the balls of her feet ready, to attack or flee? It depended on what the evil being in front of her did. Fear and anger fought for a place in her heart as her mind ticked over the potential escape routes - she wasn't strong enough to fight him. Not now, not after discovering the duplicity of her sire and great-grandsire. And Buffy hated herself for the weakness; she had hoped that the first time she came across the vampire would be his last. But now she was unsure of herself, her emotions getting the better of her fighting ability and mental control.

"Nothing to say to me, pretty one?" Dracula teased. He cut a striking figure as he stood on top of a crumbling mausoleum, his dark clothes adding to the mystic that he worked so hard to promote. His long silky cloak swung in the evening breeze; he had chosen his spot well. Behind him was a full moon - a silver disc that he stood in the centre of --heightening his dramatic impact. It was one that failed to impress Buffy. Maybe at first there has been a mini ‘eeeeh, it's Dracula’, but now, after everything he had done to her, nothing would make her even the vaguest bit interested.

Buffy dragged in an unnecessary deep breath. She vamped out and stared cautiously at the instrument of her turning. She felt nothing for him at all - no connection. Not anymore. Not since Spike had saved her. She could feel a deep connection to Spike and a familial one to Angel; Buffy wondered if she would feel like that with other vamps that were scions of the House of Aurelius.

'Focus on the drama Queen posing on the crypt, and not on whether or not Aunty Dru will be happy to see you!' Buffy's mouth made a small moue of disgust at the thought of Dru being happy to see her - she imagined that the nutty vampire would probably do something weird like make her have a tea party with Miss Edith or something lame like that. Well, after the catfight she would try and have with her for taking Spike from her.

As if! It had been mutual takage.

"Ahhh, such deep thoughts. Really, you should not worry that pretty head of yours with thoughts." Dracula smiled evilly at Buffy.

"Geez, join the 21st Century, why don't you?" Buffy’s strong voice covering up the massive attack of nerves she was in the throes of. All she could see in her mind’s eye was Dracula's naked body moving over hers - his hand touching her breasts and sliding down her stomach and between her thighs, pushing them apart. Revealing her intimate secrets to his jaded and knowing gaze. She wanted to puke - fall down and start crying. But there was no way she would let herself… not in front of him. Instead, she jutted her chin out stubbornly and growled faintly.

Dracula's face darkened at her overt challenge. "Stop that, Childe," he ordered. He jumped down and landed smoothly in front of Buffy. His proximity started to make her even more uncomfortable and he smiled cruelly at the scent of fear, that flooded the night around her.

Buffy took a mini step back, trying to reclaim her personal space and damning herself for needing too, knowing she had broadcast her weakness to the Master vampire. She growled again, just to show him that his orders meant nothing to her. She was not his Childe anymore, and never would be again. His mind tricks would have no effect on her either, thanks to Kendra's whammy.

"You know something?" Dracula purred as he drank in the luscious sight of her body and the scents of terror that filled the night air. He tried to ignore the combined spending of her and the mongrel Spike.

Buffy worried her lower lip with a fang and cocked her head.

"You owe me." Dracula's thickly accented voice floated towards her, filling her with dread.

"I don't own you bupkus," she retorted, her voice squeaking with nerves.

"Anasztaizia never returned from the hunt the other night…do you... have any idea where she is?" Dracula asked in a mocking tone. All too aware that the small vampiress in front of him had something to do with his missing Bride - he had spies all over the town.

Buffy nearly bit through her lip, her mind flashing back to the rooftop and her torture of the vampiress he was referring too. She shook her head, panic beginning to claw at her mind, her body tensed as her eyes darted from side to side searching for a way to escape. She wasn't ready for this confrontation - she doubted she ever would be.

"And then tonight. My beloved Ktisztina was torn from my loving embrace by that bitch Anyanka. I believe she is one of yours?" Dracula bared his fangs at Buffy.

The sight of the instruments of her death terrified her - she hated herself for showing the fear so openly, but it was all too much and her false bravado disappeared. It was all too much. Her mom. Spike, Angel, and now confronting Dracula for the first time - alone without Spike to back her up. It was all too much. Buffy backed away until she tripped over a gravestone and fell backwards, her hands scrabbling in the grass for purchase as she edge away from the tall vampire standing over her, condemnation and ire in his eyes.

Almost hyperventilating in her terror, Buffy slid back on her butt, her feet kicking as she move away . 'Oh god! Please, please go away. I can't deal with this right now. Not on top of Spike and Angel and their whole ‘lets keep Buffy in the dark.’' She hated herself for being such a baby; she was the Slayer and here she was scrabbling away from a vamp that, in all honesty, should have been dust by now.

"And to think Anyanka and I once shared a bed." Dracula shook his head in mock disappointment. Then he looked over at the terrified vampiress at his feet and malice filled his eyes. "Not that she will ever have that honour again - she took...no...killed Ktisztina - something that was mine to decide whether or not lived or died. Not some paltry ex-vengeance demon who appears, as rumour has it, to have appalling taste in men."

Buffy rolled onto her knees and tried to stand, only to be stopped by Dracula's foot as he stomped down on the small of her back. A delighted smile split his pale lips. He revelled in her fear; to see a Slayer crawling away from him was pure joy.

A grunt escaped her lips as she was pressed down to the grass, the blades tickling her face. Pushing her head up, Buffy gazed helplessly around the cemetery. She was pinned like a butterfly, her legs and arms flaying around.

"Be still," he ordered. Again, confused that his thrall or magical influences had no affect on his soon to be bride. No matter, he would find a way around that obstacle. But for the moment, his demon enjoyed the terror emanating from her.

"Stop it," Buffy whispered, her panic making her forget she was stronger than Dracula and could easily escape him if she wanted. Instead of the warrioress wanting to shed blood and scatter dust, Buffy felt like a scared violated girl being tormented by her attacker-- much like a mouse being toyed with by a cat.

Dracula laughed, "Never."

Buffy wriggled again, her nails clawing at the soil below her.

"You are beginning to bore me - and we have so much to discuss."

"Yeah well, if it's all so yawnsome, why not let me up and I'll get going?" Buffy bluffed, the tremor in her voice belying her bravado.

"Hardly." Dracula pushed down with his all his weight. His booted foot held her still. "Where was I? Oh, that's right, Anyaka - she's not a problem. I will kill her and avenge my Brides death." Dracula shrugged dismissively.

"NO!" Buffy slid her hands along the grass and pushed up, the casual threat against Anya giving her a modicum of strength; she was not losing another one of her friends. She managed to get some leverage and pushed against the foot that was pinning her down.

"Yes, and you will be making amends for stealing my Anasztaizia from me." Dracula grunted when Buffy managed to dislodge his foot from her back. She slipped out from under it and pulled herself up shakily.

"She deserved to die for what she did to me!" Buffy exclaimed angrily.

Dracula shook his head and lunged forward. He grabbed Buffy by the throat with one hand and let the other run softly over her face. "I may have handed you over to that mongrel William, but now I think it's time you came back to the fold."

Buffy's thin fingers wrapped around his wrist and she struggled against his hold. "Never!" she snarled.

Dracula shook his head and then laughed, "I think I may have given up on you too easily. The fire in you is really quite enjoyable. I shall really take pleasure in breaking your will...again." he added menacingly.

"No," she whispered and twisted her body away from his free hand that now ranged over her breasts in a familiar manner, re-mapping her curves. His long fingers cruelly pinched her soft nipples, futilely trying to get them aroused.

"Yes, you will be my new Bride - it appears that thanks to you and your bitch of a friend I have a need for some fresh meat in my stable." Dracula giggled manically as his hand grasped her throat tighter, holding her in place as his other hand drifted between her legs and grasped her crotch hard, bruising the delicate flesh. "But first, we need to remove the stench of that Aurelian from your body." With that, he heaved Buffy over his shoulder and began to move with a supernatural speed towards the contemplating pool that was at the centre of the cemetery.

Buffy twisted and turned in his grasp, her fists beating a rapid tattoo on his back. Before she could gather her strength and get free, she was sailing through the air. Landing face down with a splash in the shallow pool, she inadvertently inhaled a lungful of water. Memories of the Master and her first death filled her mind and Buffy’s fear dissolved into a cold fury. Silt filled her mouth. Buffy shot upwards with a roar of anger; her body broke the surface of the water and she threw her soaked hair back and leapt to her feet.

She was done playing the victim. Sure, Dracula terrified her, but enough was enough. Spinning awkwardly, she turned to face her tormentor.

But he was gone.

*********

There was a knock at his door. "Angel?" Joyce's voice was filled with concern. She pushed open the door to his suite and tentatively popped her head through the gap.

Angel levered himself up onto his elbows and nodded for her to come in. His mobile phone sat where it had been dropped; he had been waiting with mounting worry for Spike to call him back. It had been nearly half an hour and he was trying to work out a way to drag his aching body down to the car and drive to Sunnydale.

Joyce stepped into the room, carrying a tray of supplies. "Is it okay if I come in?"

The dark haired vampire nodded, awkwardness filling him - he still had no idea how to talk to Buffy's Mom. The few times they had conversed since she and Dawn had come with him to LA there had been a level of discomfort that had been overwhelming for the normally reticent vampire. He usually left the chatting to Cordy who was best suited to dealing with people. He found it much easier to be in the background watching people-- and not brooding like the others teased him!

"Are you in a lot of pain?" Joyce asked softly. She hesitantly approached the bed, eyeing his bruised and burned body. Despite her innate dislike for the defiler of her daughter's innocence, Joyce did feel badly for Angel. He was in pain because of her; she was still in shock about the revelations about her health. She was still in denial - a tumour? ‘No way’, to quote her daughters.

But the trials, and then her subsequent healing - all underscored how close she had come to leaving her baby girls alone in the world. Joyce knew she owed Angel her life and as much as that stuck in her throat, she would rise above it and be nice to him. At least now Buffy was with Spike.

Angel stared at Joyce quizzically. "Umm, I'll be okay I just need some bloo..." a mug was thrust under his nose.

"Here, drink this. Spike showed me how to heat it to the right temperature, and I have more." She gestured to the thermos on the tray.

Angel hesitated, unwilling to drink in front of her.

Joyce gave him her patented Mom look and arched a blonde brow at him.

Angel blinked and with a tentative grin sipped from the mug, surprise blossoming over his face - the flavour was amazing. He gulped it greedily down. Licking his lips, he looked at the thermos and then up at Joyce. "Can I? What's in it?"

Joyce uncapped the silver thermos and handed it to Angel with a faint smile. "Here. Drink it all, it'll help with the healing." She looked down and busied herself gathering the bandages and burn ointments. "It's Sambal Olek, a Thai spice. Spike said it gives the blood some kick." Joyce omitted adding that she had also laced the blood with a healing balm that the green horned guy Lorne had dropped off, knowing that Angel would probably moan like a kid over taking his medicine. Men! No matter if they were alive or undead they were born complainers - they hated being sick or hurt and turned into big babies.

"It's good." Angel drank eagerly from the thermos. He could feel his body recovering with each sip and he wondered what else was in the blood, but decided not to push his luck. Mrs Summers was being nice to him and he enjoyed the novelty. He glanced in the direction of the door, hoping not to spot Dawn. He had no idea how to handle her; she was too much like Spike and it irked him endlessly.

"Oh! Hey!" Angel gasped as Joyce pulled the sheets away from his burned feet and deftly began to apply the burn ointment and then wrapping them in soft bandages—her face not giving away the shock and guilt at the sight of the cross shaped burns and blisters on them.

"Angel, let me do this for you." Joyce pulled him up and put some pillows behind him. Angel was the alpha male here in the agency and was unwilling to show weakness to his associates, so she had waited until it was late in the night and then come to help him out. She owed him.

"Thank you." Angel tentatively smiled at the woman and allowed her to dress the wounds on his chest and back, all the while sipping at the warm blood she had brought him. Unbeknownst to either of them, they had an observer who silently fumed at her interrupted mind games.

**********

Buffy shook the water from her ears.

There was an enormous roar that broke the peace of the cemetery; she recognised it.

It was Spike.

He was in ‘must kill now’ mode.

She slipped and fell, falling face forward into the shallow water again. The sensation of the water seeping into her lungs made her freak. It was all too familiar - the Master drowning her all those years ago had a left a mark. She leapt from the water gagging. Buffy puked up the water and took a deep breath, unneeded but it helped in calming her down. Silt covered her face; she scrubbed at it with her hands, wiping it as clean as best she could.

In the distance she could hear the sounds of battle. Buffy's feet carried her towards the noise, worried now for Spike.

**********

Dawn peeked through the gap of her door and her jaw dropped.

'Oh my god! It's her...but she's supposed to be dead?'

Dawn clicked the door shut and leant against it. Her hand pressing against her heart; she was positive it was going to beat itself out of her chest.
She had only seen Darla once years ago, and that voice she'd never forget. She needed to get to her Mom - but she was in Angel's room looking after him.

The teen slid down the door and rested her head on her knees. She was still in shock from the revelations that had occurred earlier when her mom and Angel had returned from their walk. She could still feel her mom's arms around her, clutching at her and rocking them both back and forth as she explained how Angel had saved her life.

After that Lorne guy had read her, he had been able to tell that there was a tumour in her Mom's brain and Angel had fought for her life-- and saved her. Spike was gonna freak out when he heard that the Poof had saved Joyce. Dawn's eyes filled with tears of relief - she had nearly lost her mommy. Angel had saved her...no them. All of them. If Joyce had died, then the Summers family would've fallen to pieces.

Dawn dashed the tears from her face; a look of determination filled it. She grabbed the lamp base from the table next to her, her face set in an uncompromising line-- one that was startlingly similar to how her older sister looked when confronted with a demon. Sniffling loudly she stood, and bracing herself she swung the door open and charged out into the corridor, ready to kick some vapid blonde's undead ass.

There was a sense of anticlimax - the corridor was empty. Dawn sighed with relief and ran as fast as she could for Angel's suite and kicked the door open.

"Eww, that's gotta hurt!" Dawn stared in shock at the burnt mess of Angel's foot. She dropped her makeshift weapon and it bounced forgotten on the carpet, her eyes glued to the blister mess of the souls of Angel's feet.

"Dawn, why aren't you in bed?" Joyce stared over her shoulder at her youngest daughter.

Angel scrabbled to cover his chest with the sheet. He had no idea how cope with Dawn, and lounging on a bed with no shirt on was not the way to go. Even he realised that.

Dawn crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head to one side. "So Angel, care to share with us?"

"Huh?" The brunette vampire's large brow furrowed in confusion. She really confounded him sometimes.

"Dawn." Joyce's voice held a hint of reprimand in it.

"How come your undead skank of a sire is hanging around the hotel? Buffy told me you dusted her?" Dawn shot out with a look of curiosity on her face.

"What? No...Darla's dead, I dusted her myself," Angel stuttered. Suddenly everything clicked into focus, the dreams he had been having, and the sticky not so fresh feelings he'd had in the mornings when he woke up.

"OH!" he sat up in shock.

"Darla's alive? It's all real? I thought I was dreaming...Darla was here in my room - in my bed." Angel trailed off sheepishly, embarrassed beyond his wildest dreams about what he had had just revealed to Joyce and Dawn.

"Yucksville!" Dawn grimaced at the mental thought of Angel having sex with Darla; she still pretended that Buffy had never let him touch her. Cos ewwww.

*********

Buffy skidded to a halt at the sight of Dracula and Spike fighting. She tripped over something on the grass and landed with a jarring thud on black leather. Her cold fingers scrabbled at the duster that Spike had disguarded at some point. Grabbing hold of the soft leather she pulled it out from under her and slipped it on, drawing comfort from the worn leather and the heady scents of her sire as the coat enveloped her. Inhaling his familiar scent and getting a snugly feeling from it, helping her to ground herself, all thoughts of her anger towards the peroxide menace were eased - until she could get him on his own and kick his ass.

"Sodding ninny!" Spike roared and launched himself at Dracula, his clawed hand reached for the European vampire's throat. Blood poured from a gash on his cheekbone where Drac had lashed out with his Gucci clad foot moments earlier, sending Spike sailing through the air.

The two master vampires met halfway with a bone crushing thump. They wrestled wildly, each trying to gain ascendancy over the other. Buffy gulped at the sight of the two of them fighting all out fist and fangs in a flurry of blows and bites.

Spike's naked torso gleamed in the waning moonlight, streaked with mud and blood from both his wounds and those of his opponents. She tried to not swoon with girlish glee at the sight of him stripped to the waist and fighting. He looked amazing in the moonlight, his hair in a tumble of pale curls and an unholy look of anger in his eyes. Spike's entire being was focused on decimating his opponent. A stray thought popped into her head and it lightened her heart for a split second.

Buffy stepped forward to help him, only to be stopped by a piercing blue gaze and a brief shake of his head before he head butted Dracula in the nose, shattering it with a satisfying crunch. Blood and small slithers of bone poured from his shattered nose and coated the dark haired vampire's chin.

He howled in pain and his knee jerked up, catching Spike in the hip with a heavy blow.

Spike flinched, glad he'd twisted his hips at the last moment. He gritted his teeth, unwillingly to allow Dracula the upper hand. Instead, he vamped out and bit down hard on his opponent’s shoulder and shook his head like a dog, tearing through cloth, skin, muscles and tendons. He pulled back and in the ultimate vampiric put down, spat out Dracula's blood.

Spike danced on the balls of his feet, his blood-smeared face split with a manic grin. He spun and kicked out at his opponent, catching him in the chin and sending him flying. He had been waiting for this moment from the second he had seen Buffy hanging limply in the bastard's sweaty paws. He and his demon were in complete agreement about this fight; make the bastard hurt and then rip his head off.

Buffy bit her lower lip, wanting to call out to him but instinctively knowing she couldn't distract him - this was his fight. For now.

"You touched her again, against her will!" Spike growled, surreptitiously pressing a fist against his hip. The pain that shot up from the injury fine-tuned his concentration onto the fight, but Spike was positive something was broken there. Every time he moved there was a sickening grinding sensation; that was sickening to experience - but if it helped him stay in the game then so be it.

"She owes me!" Dracula rolled over onto his back and then flipped up onto his feet. "She killed my Bride and I want her to fill the void in my bed and clan."

"Owes you bollocks, and as for hopping into your bed - never happening!" Spike retorted and lunged at the slim vampire. Fists ready and fangs just itching for another taste of his opponent.

"You stole her life from her - her innocence!" Spike began to pound the smirking face of his enemy. Each bone jarring thump filled him with satisfaction; he imagined each injury on the prat's body was a small step in revenge for Buffy. It had been a long time coming but he had been aching for this confrontation with the Tranny bastard. "Why would you think that the Slayer would even consider letting you touch her after the hell you and your slags put her through?" Spike punctuated his question with a one-two punch to Dracula's throat.

There was a sickening crunch as the damage was done to his throat, muscles tore and there was a crunching sound of carteledge giving away under the blows. Dracula's hand shot up to his throat and clutched at it, trying to ease the pain. Never before had he been at such a disadvantage in a fight. Each time he had summoned a spell to cast on his opponent it had vanished into the ether, much like his attempts on his prize, the turned Slayer. The vampire was confused, never before had this happened to him and for the first time in decades, he was worried about losing a fight.

Spike span and kicked him in the stomach, he twisted around and landed on the balls of his feet, fists clenched ready for the next blow.

Dracula reeled backwards and raised his arms defensively. He was starting to panic - never before had he entered into a fight he didn't know he would win. But there was something wild and untamed in Spike's fighting; a sense of his moral rightness for being in this confrontation was fuelling the blond vampire's strength to such levels that it was starting to terrify Dracula.

Spike bobbed forward--much like a prize-fighter-- and began to rain down blows on any part of Dracula's body that presented itself. The nonce deserved a good kicking.

The longhaired vampire struck out wildly, trying to slow down the heavy blows. His face was already shattered and the darkness of unconsciousness was starting to pull at his senses. Realising that brute force or magical influences were not helping him in this battle, Dracula resorted to taunting his opponent and Buffy.

"She was hardly an innocent. Your own grandsire has drunk from her neck and assisted her in losing her innocence. I only added to her experience; she welcomed my touch!" he taunted, hoping that bringing up Angel would wrong-foot his opponent. In the past, the enmity between the two familial vampires had been legendary, and usually over a woman - though he had never understood the appeal of the mad one. Once it had been the insane Drusilla, but now it was the prize he wanted to reclaim.

Buffy's last vestiges of fear vanished at the last insults that had poured from Dracula's split lips. She vamped out and growled loudly; her challenge was heard by both males, but ignored as they were fighting to the death. Neither one wanting to risk a break in concentration, any slip and they'd lose.

"Nice try, mate." Spike slapped Dracula round the back of the head in an insulting way - more like a father cuffing a son around the head for some misdemeanour. "Bringing up Peaches might've worked a while back, but not now." He hefted Dracula and threw him against a mausoleum, smirking at the sound of Dracula's bones breaking. Revenge was sweet.

Spike bounced on the balls of his feet and then cracked his neck. "Now? Nothing! Must say it's kind of liberating, no Granddaddy issues - but m'sure that'll change once he starts brooding over something. But for now, Spike's an uncomplicated puppy...who is starting to get bored...can't you even put up a little bit of a fight?" he whined.

A blur of blonde hair flashed past him and before Spike could utter a bloody hell, an incensed Slayer launched Dracula into the air.

Before he could even hit the ground, Buffy kicked him in the stomach and sent him flying upwards again. "Scumbag! I never welcomed your cold clammy paws on me-- not until you thralled me and even then, ewww."

Spike tucked his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans and watched as Buffy batted the enormous git up and down the cemetery like a whiffle ball. "Nice moves, luv." He loved to watch her fight, her body moving in smooth seamless motions. Despite the gravity of the situation, and who they were confronting, Spike still took time to admire his Slayer.

"Can it, Spike. Still mad as hell with you!" Buffy grumbled as she punted the nearly unconscious vampire into a tree. The satisfaction she garnered from pulverising the asshole was overwhelmingly good. She was even angrier with herself for freezing up earlier and letting the scumbag touch her.

"Love you though, sweets." Spike rocked on his heels and watched as his girl's small foot kicked loose what looked suspiciously like a fang. He ran his tongue over his own and smirked at Dracula who was laid out on the grass, bleeding from his nose, mouth and ears. This was gonna be good and well deserved - he had hated feeling her terror when he had been running to the cemetery - that was not how his girl was built. The fear that had flooded her being had fuelled his attack on Dracula. He was determined to defend her, to avenge her - to buy time for her to regain her equilibrium and re-join the fight. 'And didn't she look fancy in my coat,' Spike noted with an admiring gleam to his eyes.

"Humph." Buffy rolled her eyes at him, "sweet talking me is not helping, Spike. Still mad at you for being all secretive guy." She reached into her waistband and pulled out Mr Pointy. Raising her arm she took a deep breath. This was the moment she had been waiting for since she had woken in Spike's bed in the cabin, confused and disoriented by her location and her newly undead status.

Her face was a study of determination and a calm filled her. Without a quip tumbling from her lips, Buffy gripped her stake firmly and swung her arm downwards. Justice would be done, and removing the poseur from the planet was an added bonus, she added irreverently to herself.

"NO!" Dracula bellowed and summoned his last vestiges of strength and turned into a bat and flew off into the sky. Buffy fell forward, the momentum from her swinging the stake unbalancing her, and the sensation of the bat body under her hand before Drac had managed to wriggle loose and flutter away disoriented her.

"Pansy arsed coward," Spike bellowed as he chased futilely after the badly injured and erratically fluttering bat. Limping slightly, he continued a litany of insults, which would have made a longshoreman blush and reach for the soap to wash the vampire's mouth out with.

Buffy yelled angrily, annoyed that she had lost her kill. She clamoured to her feet and took off after the two vampires. Pissed off that her slay had been thwarted.