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 her 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. 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.