A/N: Don't despair Spuffy lovers. We see Spike for the first time in the next chapter, and things start to take a hard right turn soon.

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4. Bargain

They had just finished their first totally consensual rough and tumble, and Angelus had to concede that it hadn’t been half-bad. Given time and a little more experience, he believed that Buffy would be eminently trainable.

“I loved Angel so much, and you are like him in so many ways.” He’d have to work on getting her keeping her thoughts to herself, though. If she once declared her undying love for him he’d probably puke up the delicious dollop Slayer blood he’d just had.

It was the second time she had said something like that, and again it made him angry. “I’m not like him at all,” he growled. “The soul made Angel weak.” Why did he continue to protest? If she thought he was like Angel, what did it really matter, so long as he got what he wanted from her?

“Angel was one of the strongest… people… I’ve ever met. Every day was a struggle for him. Every day he had to decide to ignore his baser nature and let his soul guide his actions. But you can make a choice, too. How to live from here on out.”

Here it was then. The ‘why can’t you just BE Angel’ speech. He had known it was coming. This, relationship, that they had somehow formed was doomed from the start.

“There is no choice for me Buffy. I’m a vampire. It’s what I am. With no soul.”

“Perhaps there is more of Angel in you than you imagine. I mean, you are still the same man underneath, you have all his memories – don’t you?”

“I remember everything. But I am not him, Buffy. As much as you’d like me to be, I’m not.”

Pillow talk with the Slayer. Who would have imagined it? But she had a point. It was more than a little terrifying how much he remembered now that things had had a chance to settle inside his mind. Not only the things Angel had said and done, but also the thoughts and feelings behind his actions. And they were alike in many ways. Both Angelus and Angel would have agreed that their greatest single regret was that Angel had been forced to kill Darla.

But reality was that Darla was gone forever, and Angelus was forced to live with the consequences of that action. Perhaps if Darla had still been around, he might have felt differently about Buffy, but it was impossible to speculate.

Sure Dru was fun and all, and he was really enjoying annoying the heck out of Spike, but he needed more than a raving lunatic to keep him company throughout eternity. Buffy might be someone who could fill the void left by Darla’s absence. Of course, for that to work he’d have to turn her eventually.

Of course Buffy had no idea of the direction his thoughts had taken. “See. That’s where you are so alike. You could be the one trying to convince me how you are still the same, even without the soul. But instead you insist that you’re not. You’re both amazingly honest, brave, you take your responsibilities seriously… And you both seem to be in love with me.”

Angelus felt as if he would choke. Was that what his actions told the Slayer? Was there even the remotest possibility that she right? There just couldn’t be. He was not Angel. Never had been, never would be.

“I never said that, Buffy. The poof may have been able to love you, but I have no soul. I won’t deny that I want you, but I’m not even sure that demons can love. Not the way that you mean it.”

“I mean in the ‘for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, until death do us part kind of way.’ And the more I see of you, talk to you, the more I am convinced that you are in fact still Angel, except without the soul.”

Angelus was shaking his head, trying to let her know how foolish her argument sounded to him, but she wouldn’t be deterred.

“It’s like, if you went away to war and came home missing an arm or a leg. You’d still be you. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t love you any more after than? I think this is kinda the same thing.”

“Love is not love / Which alters when it alteration finds.” At her puzzled look Angelus explained, “It’s a line from sonnet by Shakespeare.”

“See proves my point. I don’t believe that the majority of the undead could quote Shakespeare at me.”

“Meaningless,” he shrugged. “But feel free to believe what you want to believe. I can’t stop you anyway. I’m not sure anymore why I’d want to.” He nuzzled her neck. God, she smelled delicious.

“I suppose not. But still, whether you’re calling yourself Angel or Angelus, there’s so much of you that is the same that I would have a hard time staking you.”

“That’s good to know.”

“I said I would have a hard time doing it, not that I wouldn’t, so don’t go getting too overconfident.” She nibbled on his ear and Angelus felt his cock stir again. Perhaps the two of them had enough energy left for another round after all. “I wish you would make it so that I don’t feel that I have to dust you.”

“What do you mean?” She had stopped chewing on his neck. He wanted her to continue.

“You kill people. You eat them.” He pushed her head back down and groaned as her teeth worried the scars on his neck.

“That’s what vampires do, Buffy,” he managed to get out.

“But you don’t have to.” She had stopped what her mouth was doing and was looking at him with those soulful eyes again. “Angel didn’t kill people for food. He lived just fine that way for over a hundred years.”

“Yes, but he had a soul to keep him from killing. I don’t have that motivation.” What did she want from him anyway? He kept telling her over and over that he wasn’t Angel. But she was still running her hand over his chest. Teasing the line of hair just below his navel.

“I know that you don’t have a soul telling you what’s right from wrong. But you have me. Or, you could have me, if you’d just stop killing.” Playfully, she kissed his abs, licked her way lower. He was definitely ready for another round. Especially if she was promising what he thought she was promising. It was one thing to take it from her, but a blow job freely given was a different sensation entirely. One he hadn’t had from her yet. His hand fisted in her hair, trying to move her head lower. Instead she stopped completely and gazed at him with smiling eyes.

“How about a compromise? You don’t kill anyone, and I don’t stake you. And if we date one another on the side, well, that’s really no body’s business is it?” Her mouth dipped lower for a second, her tongue just barely encircling the tip of his cock. Then she pulled away again, looking up at him with a slight smile. She smelled mouthwatering.

“God Buffy, don’t stop,” he gasped, pushing her head back towards his crotch. Her head didn’t move, although her hand stroked him idly. At this point he thought he’d say anything she wanted to hear, just to get her to put her lips around his girth again. It was a struggle even to speak. “I’m not sure that I can do what you want, Buffy. I keep trying to tell you that I’m not Angel. Vampires kill to survive. It’s what we do.”

“Why? Why can’t you just eat pig’s blood, like Angel did? It must be nourishing enough – he did it for like a hundred years. Tell your minions that they have to stop killing, and I’ll leave them alone.”

He simply had to get her to stop talking and put her mouth to work on his straining erection. To say nothing of this talk about blood. Just the mention of it had him vividly remembering the sensation of her precious Slayer’s blood filling his mouth, coating his tongue and teeth, sliding oh so smoothly down his throat and the burn as the power of it suddenly hit. The small tastes he had already taken were no where near enough. At that moment her blood was the only thing in the world that he wanted more than the feel of her hot lips around him. Drinking normal human blood paled in comparison.

Besides words were easy. “I’ll try,” he gasped. No sooner had the words left his mouth he could feel her lips teasing his slit. He could barely talk as her teeth came out to worry the sensitive area around his foreskin. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I’ll … I’ll order my minions to stop too,” he struggled to form the words, “but only on one condition.” He didn’t think that she would agree, but it was worth a try. “Let me drink from you instead.”

He had barely tasted her, and it made him lust for more. Just the thought of her blood was driving him to distraction. Between the memory of her taste and the feel of her lips working him over, he was sure that in another minute he’d be completely incapable of speech. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this good.

He wanted to come already, but her hand was holding him so tightly that he couldn’t. Where had she learned that trick?

“Not much. Just a few sips,” he was gasping for breath now, which was strange considering that he didn’t need to breathe. “You’ve seen that I can do it – take your blood and not harm you.” He was pretty sure that he could keep himself under control. If not, well, he’d have to make a split second decision whether to turn her or just let her die. He could live with it. “If you let me drink from you, I’ll do whatever you want.”

Between Buffy’s blood and the fantastic sex, he wasn’t sure he’d even miss the nightly slaughter. Besides, after having tasted the Slayer’s blood, normal human blood tasted like swill anyway. It wouldn’t be that much of a sacrifice.

He’d learned from Spike that a vampire didn’t really need that much blood to survive. Spike had scarcely eaten anything since he’d become incapacitated. Angelus knew it for a fact. He figured he could live almost entirely off of Buffy, provided that he could get her to go along with the scheme.

To emphasize his point that it wouldn’t have to painful for her, he let his canines lightly graze her wrist and sucked at the blood that began to flow. Gasping she released his cock as they both came hard.

‘Damn,’ he thought once coherence returned. ‘She likes me feeding from her almost as much as I enjoy doing it.’ If her reaction to his bites was any indication, it looked like he could expect to taste her often; probably every time they had sex. If she would let him do that, he didn’t think he’d regret this bargain. The taste of her blood was exquisite. Easily worth making at least a few sacrifices for.

His eyes half closed at the thought, and his fangs pressed into her more deeply as he groaned, reaching for her again. He needed to be inside her – now.

They didn’t leave the cemetery for quite some time.