Chapter 16

She was on patrol again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t want to fight.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Spike…I need…make me come…please….”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~*~


Buffy knew that something was happening.

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

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

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

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


Chapter 17

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, there’s an idea.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Chapter 18

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, pet. I was there.”

“I didn’t see you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Chapter 19

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

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

“See anything you like, pet?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bloody hell, pet. I feel…alive.”

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

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

“From a kiss?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Spike….”she started, then stopped.

He raised his head. “Love?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know you will. I’ll be over.”

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

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



Chapter 20

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My love.”

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

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

“The robot. April.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on, baby. I’ll help you.” She helped him negotiate the ladder, then took him to his bed and laid him down, tucking him in. “You stay here. Rest. Heal. I’ll be back soon.”

He caught her hand as she turned away from the bed. “Buffy? Love you, pet. Thank you….”

She held his hand until she was certain he was resting, then got to her feet, raking her fingers through her hair. She had to do something soon. Glory was too close to Dawn, and now she was messing with her boyfriend. She cringed internally at the word boyfriend, but shook it off. He was her boyfriend, if not more, and everyone better get used to it. She wasn’t going to waste what time she had denying herself, since that had gotten her so far anyway. She climbed the ladder, sparing a glance over her shoulder to ascertain he was still sleeping, then snuck out of the crypt, ready for a fight.