Welcome to The Hellmouth? by Schehrezade

Chapter #1 - Chapter One

This fic is written for megan_peta for her tireless work betaing this fic and so many more for me! Also for her encouragement to write more of what was intended to be a short series, her excitment over each chapter has been the reason I carried on with it! Megan I hope you enjoys *g* The banner was created by the talent selene2 thank you so much for the gorgeous banner Italic-thoughts What was he doing in this armpit of a town? Oh right, he was damned… Spike cradled the shot glass in one hand as he glared over at the result of his damnation. She bounced and writhed all over the piddling dance floor, her hair a beacon of golden light under the strobes. He squinted at her two friends dancing with her and dismissed them in an instant as coattail hangers on. Something that he would sort as soon as he’d gotten enough liquid courage; Spike downed the JD with relish. “Set me up with a bottle, luv.” He cocked his head and pinned the fluttering bartender with his best smouldering look. He dug out a handful of cash and began to count out the right amount. “Oh no, it’s on the house.” The smitten woman pushed the notes back over and tentatively patted him on the hand as she pushed over the bottle that would be his salvation that evening. “Thanks, pet. You’ve no idea how much I need this.” Spike took a long drink and leaned back on the bar and watched her. She was a ripe minx, one step away from being jailbait, but the sight of her bobbing breasts put paid to that thought. His mouth watered at the sight of her nipples pressing against the silky top. Despite hating her with his entire being, Spike’s mouth watered at the sight of those tender morsels, his eyes narrowed at the burgeoning erection in the floppy haired boy’s slacks.‘Not something you want to be thinking about, kid. She’ll chew you up and spit you out. You’re so out of her league, Whelp, you’re in the minors.’ He didn’t notice the bartender recoil from her position of ogling him as his fangs dropped slightly, the predator in him unhappy that his soon to be territory was being encroached by some spotty teen that’d probably only ever seen a naked woman in magazines. Spike growled deep in his chest. He may not want to be here, but there was no way he was putting up with that sweaty nit panting over his Slayer. “Fuckit,” Spike snarled and drained the full bottle in seconds. ‘His slayer? Bugger – Bollocks -- arse – soddit-- shite and fuck…not mine. Remember that, Spike. She’s just the reason you’re here, not yours to savour.’ The sigh that groaned out of the vampire seemed to emanate from his toes and work it’s way through his entire system. He wanted to sink to his knees and weep. If he’d been somewhere private where he wouldn’t lose anymore street cred, he would’ve. Tears and self-pity had become second nature to him and he didn’t even have a soul like his bastard of a Granddad. “Sir, are you okay?” a tentative voice chimed up next to him. Sir? Since when had he become a sir? Spike glared down at the pipsqueak tugging on his leather and flashed the brat a fang. How dare some mere mortal--something he’d have used its bones to pick his fangs with--ask if he was okay! Master vampires are to be feared, not worried over like some nance. He was tempted to snap the big-eyed blighter’s neck but reminded himself if he did anything bad then he was buggered even more than now. The teen shrank back at the sight of the vampire and stuttered an apology before running out of the nightclub. Spike mentally preened, ‘Yeah, still got it.’ “Tut tut, William. You know what I told you. Anything vaguely bad and you get a shiny soul shoved down your throat.” “I hate you, y’know?” Spike closed his eyes at the detested voice of his tormentor who had popped out of the ether. “Aww, little ol’me? How could you?” The demoness next to him turned to face Spike with an exaggerated pout on her fine features. “Bugger off,” Spike growled as he crossed his arms defensively over his chest. He did not want to be anywhere near the blonde chit dancing out on the floor, he wanted to be back in his Dru’s arms. “Now why would I want to do that? When you are about to become the greatest result of all the wishes I have ever granted.” “Anyanka, I swear I will rip your spine out and club you to death with it “Ohhh, is that Aurelian master vampire foreplay?” the vengeance demon teased, her eyes never leaving the three figures on the dance floor. “She has a purity in her that I hope you will leave intact,” she added with a warning note. “You realise that you’re the biggest pervert I have ever met and that’s saying something seeing that Darla is an acquaintance. She is one dirty bitch; the things she did to Peaches with a strap-on and a whip would make tougher eyes than yours water,” Spike remarked absently as he stared at the girl dancing in front of him. “She’s pretty,” Anya commented as she took in the Slayer that was about to have her world knocked on its axis. “If you like ‘em with a pulse, I guess.” Spike’s thoughts were on his lost love-- the one that was the reason he was standing on the mouth of Hell ready to leap in feet first. “What? They’re all ready meals to you?” Anya nudged him none too gently. “Ow. That bloody well hurt. Wot’d you do, sharpen your elbows or something?” “No, don’t be ridiculous. Now go on…go meet your destiny.” Anya waved her hands at him. “Yeah, right, just like that. M’gonna go up to a Slayer and say ‘hello, I’m here to help you. What? Me a vampire? Why yes, how clever of you to spot that. Sorry, do I have a what? Ahhh, a soul? Nope, not got one of those.’ And then poof!” Spike fluttered his fingers in the air. “That’s me exploding into dust in case you’re wondering, you rotten evil bint.” “So how are you approaching her? In armour with a big sign around your neck saying ‘ask questions first and stake later’?” Spike sighed again, “I’m sussing it out. Just let me do it in m’own time.” “Yeah, after she’s died a grisly death on the fangs of some vampire. I am here to ensure that your sire’s curse takes effect and you live by the rules. OR I will curse you with a soul.” Anyanka’s face shimmered into her demonic visage briefly just to remind him she wasn’t just a pretty face. “Look, about Dru, you do realise she is barking?” Spike tried to keep the begging whine out of his voice but failed miserably. “She’s a dog?” Anya’s forehead crinkled in confusion. “No -- she’s not, she’s a vampire. Don’t try and distract me.” She stomped her foot and pouted up at Spike. This was truly the most delicious of her vengeance spells and it also paid off her poker debt to that smelly little demon, Whistler. So in her books, it was a killer bargain and there was no way the pouting vampire was going to wheedle his way out of it. “How would you like a nice bout of syphilis for trying to confuse me? I can do that. Make your penis ache in so many ways, have it seep pus and blood, and the pain I can create in that one area will have you wanting to chop it off, just to ease your eternal misery.” Spike’s hands clapped over his groin and he stared in real terror at the small woman-- the reason for all his misery and the author of his nightmares. “No don’t, pet. I’ll be a nice puppy and play with the Slayer.” He gazed at the instrument of his damnation and wondered why his darling sire had done this too him. Why had she wished vengeance on him? All he had ever done was adore her, coddle her and given her everything her insane whims demanded. Where had he gone wrong? “Well, when are you going to approach her?” “When the time is right.” Spike growled, turned on his heel and stalked out of the Bronze, his duster whipping around him as he prowled out into the darkness. Unaware of a pair of eyes watching his loping walk in appreciation. A/N comments? Thoughts? Would love to hear what you thinks have another chappie ready to post tomorrow night!

Chapter #2 - Chapter Two

A huge thank you to ZoeGrace ComedyofErrors Max MArzbar Mandythemusician ElizabethAnneSummers for your reviews! “When the time is right?” Spike leant against the wall and bashed his head against it. He had no idea how to get out of this bind and deep down knew that this was it for him. “When the bloody hell is the time right for you to hand over your balls to the chit for her whimsy?” “Ewww.” Spike leapt a foot in the air, spinning fast to see a brunette and a blonde staring at him with expressions of disgust on their pretty, albeit over made up faces. So much for the Big Bad – more like the big pansy. “Rude much?” The busty, dark haired teen crossed her arms over her chest and stared assesingly at him, her nose wrinkled in disgust. So not that cute with the potty mouth. “Yeah, what she said.” The blonde licked her lips at the yummy looking blondie bear standing in the shadows. “Come on, Harm. I wanna show off my new purse.” Cordelia flicked her long hair over her shoulder and gestured for her fashion minion to follow her. She was also hoping to torture Buffy for not falling into step and hanging out with her. As if Willow, or that total loser, Xander, were in any way cooler than her. Harmony followed her, waving a quick goodbye to the horrified vampire. “We are so out of here!” Spike stared numbly at the backs of the two girls and nearly sank to his knees and sobbed at the utter nightmare that was his life. One minute he’d been planning a trip to Prague for his Princess, and the next she’d kicked him out of the moving train, screaming blue murder about dancing with the light and how he was not her Spike anymore. He really hated it when she had one of her turns, they usually resulted in him suffering and this was probably the worst it had ever been. “Well that was humiliating, one quarter of the Scourge leaping in the air like a frightened cat.” “Look, sod off, Anyanka, I’ve had it up to here with you,” Spike growled, gesturing sharply to his throat as he glared over at the unruffled demoness. “Wot are you ? My own personal Jimmy Cricket? Just piss off and let me work this out on my own terms.” He refrained from adding that his own terms were in the form of a bottle of Tequila and a stake unless he could find a way to escape her clutches. “Well no, I have to make sure you behave, otherwise Whis…I mean, otherwise Drusilla will be disappointed.” She fluffed her hair over her shoulders and prayed that the intuitive vampire was too concerned with his abject humiliation to spot her nearly spilling the beans. She was dreading Hoffy finding out about her being trapped into doing this spell, but there was no way out. A debt was a debt and she was never one to welsch. She still couldn’t believe that this was happening to her. One minute her life was chugging along nicely, and now she was scrambling to cover a debt with a representative for the PTBs? Spike snorted. “I doubt Dru even remembers the wish now…not if she was in one of her moods.” He dug around in his pockets and pulled out a battered packet of Marlboros and lit one with a slightly unsteady hand. “Oh, it’s quite a good one really, shall I tell you again? Are you sober enough to remember as I really do get tired of repeating myself.” Spike grunted and puffed out a smoke ring. He didn’t want to hear it again but knew if he tried to scarper the bint would teleport after him. He still was stunned that Dru felt she needed vengeance on him; after a century at her side, loving her and fighting for her, he’d never betrayed her in body or mind. Or so he’d thought until she’d had that vision and gone ballistic and tossed him out on his ear. “She wished that you would go to the one that covered you with her light “And from that you get me here and wishing me to fight for the soddin Slayer of my kind?” She stared at him with a Sphinx-like smile on her lips. “I am nothing if not ingenious in my wish granting, William.” “Light? Light? What the hell was she on? I live in the dark with her. Light? Sod it.” He flung his half-smoked cigarette onto the concrete and crushed it out with a heavy boot, stamping on the dying embers over and over, mentally wishing it were the pert features of the demoness intent on destroying his unlife. “Spike?” Spike’s leather clad shoulders slumped even more. “And now my night is complete,” he muttered under his breath. “Oh, here he is! I was waiting for him.” Anya peeped around the moping figure of her victim and blinked. “His forehead is huge and he just screams ‘look at me’ with that mopey aura. Bet he’s hoping to attract women with his broody visage, though personally I think you have much more orgasm potential.” She patted Spike on the shoulder and pushed past him. “What the hell is he doing here?” “Now, Mr Angel, you know exactly what he’s doing here.” Anya propped her hands on her hips and stared up, completely unphased by Angel’s glum face and his looming presence. “You are really tall and glowery looking aren’t you?” “I was contacted by Whistler and told that I would be mentoring a demon who was on the track to redemption. Like me…and it’s him?” Angel stared at Spike with a mixture of disgust and longing. He’d hoped for a friend, a companion at arms, not the blond idiot who had been the bane of his existence and was so far from being redeemed it was not funny. He loathed the fledgling William that Dru had dragged home, but at the same time missed his family--even Spike. He was so lonely and tired of being in the shadows alone with his torment. The only light in his existence was when he managed to see the pretty Slayer and pass on some information. When Whistler had appeared in his basement apartment and announced that he was to help another on his path to redemption, Angel had experienced a brief moment of hope, a tiny glow that he’d carried with him for the half an hour it had taken to get his hair just right and then get to the meeting point. Now – now it was Spike? If it wouldn’t have made him look silly, Angel would’ve stomped off in a snit. But he was very conscious that the Powers wanted him to be a Champion and it was better to have a cause to fight for than go back to living in alleys draining rats. But Spike? On the path to redemption? He sincerely doubted it. It had to be a trick. “It’s not a trick or a joke,” Anya commented perceptively. She didn’t like the look of this one at all and couldn’t help but wonder if Whistler actually knew what he was doing She’d reached over and slapped Spike up the back of the head when he’d snorted at Angel’s comment about redemption, chuntering under his breath about slavery and the corruption of an innocent demon who wanted nothing more than a nice drink from a neck or two a night and to be left alone. Angel’s jaw dropped. He was stuck with Spike. His shoulders slumped in resignation as it finally started to sink in. He was stuck with the worst of his family; he was really in hell now. He might be lonely and sad, but having Spike around was going to be a nightmare-- family or not. “Right perceptive bint, this one.” Spike sighed and turned to face the great nit that was his grandsire. A smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth and he decided that, if he was damned, he may as well torture the poof on the way there. Spike flung his arms out. “Gramps, did you miss me? Come on, give us a cuddle.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Sod this. I am not ruddy well squatting in a damp piddly basement!” Spike paused in the doorway and glared around Angel’s flat, a look of horror on his face. “Ohhh, is it horrid? Let me see!” Anya poked her fingers into the small of Spike’s back as she tried to get him to move. He stood solid in annoyance and she had to give up the subtle torture and jump up and down behind him, trying to peer over his shoulder. Spike glanced back over his shoulder at the sight of the petite demoness bouncing up and down like a rabbit and suppressed a smile. He was pissed off with her and not about to grin at the bint. “Spike, just get in here,” Angel growled. He was not too keen on sharing space with the menace either, but he had a soul and he had to sacrifice himself for the greater good to atone for all the things he’d done. A brief moment of clarity surfaced in his head when he looked at Spike and realised that he had been witness to some of the less savoury moments of his unlife and if Angel could’ve, he would have blushed. “Nope, am going to find digs of me own. Ta ta gramps, don’t wait up.” Spike gently lifted Anya and put her out of his way before disappearing into the night. A/N Another night and another chappie! Hope everyone enjoyed?

Chapter #3 - Chapter Three

I really want to thank all of you for reviewing - you have no idea how chuffed I am!! All of you are the best! *Hugs* ‘Two weeks, two sodding miserable weeks.’ Spike glared at the bottom of his very empty glass and sighed. It’d taken him about ten days to get himself sorted out, the rest of the time he’d sulked in the bottom of a bottle. Thankfully, the now absent demon-girl had come through for him and now he was a not so proud homeowner. ‘At least there’s dosh rolling in from the rent.’ He snorted and reached for the bottle of tequila and filled the glass to the rim. Good thing she had too, otherwise he’d have been picking vengeance demon from his nashers and to hell with her boss. He winced at the tentative knock on his door. “Anyanka, wherever you are, I hope you know you’re a sneaky bint and have a twisted sense of humour.” He drained the tequila with relish and let the tumbler fall from his fingers onto the table with a clatter. Pushing himself away with flourish, Spike mentally braced himself and swung open the loft door. “Wotcha Peaches, how’s it hangin?” Spike rocked back on his heels and smirked at the wretch looming in his doorway and wondered why he’d ever looked up to him back in the day. “Not very low, I imagine,” Spike sniggered. He hooked his thumbs into his waistband and smirked at his visitor. Angel glared at his sozzled protégé, disappointment limning every feature of his normally stoic face. He was tired of constantly having to come get Spike from his place to go patrol. He ignored the small voice inside reminding him that it was only four nights rather than the eternity it felt like since the peroxided menace had invaded his unlife, again. But part of him was still sulking over the blatant refusal of Spike to live with him, so he wasn’t inclined to be fair. He’d hoped that on some level that familial links and responsibility would’ve led to them spending time together. He was lonely, and tired of being on the outside looking wistfully in. Instead, Spike had disappeared that first night, had stayed gone for a week and then reappeared in his life. Announcing himself in the bold brash way that seemed to have become his signature. He still could hear the caterwauling of Johnny Rotten and his so-called band. The first morning the sound had echoed down the stairwell he’d fallen out of bed, positive it was the end of the world. As it was he’d only just gotten to bed, having spent the night shadowing Buffy while she fought and beat a cadre of vampires. Tired and lonely, he’d stumbled to bed still clothed, and fallen into a shallow sleep. Until he’d heard the not so dulcet voice of someone screeching about masturbating in the ships rigging – not something Barry Manilow had ever sung about. “Peaches, wot you doing here?” Spike asked with a malicious grin, knowing full well why his Grandpops was standing there looking constipated. Well, as constipated as a vampire could on a liquid diet. He still couldn’t figure out why Angel didn’t eat. The tastes, textures and sensual experience of all foods was something he could never do without – he was not one for self-flagellation. Angel shuffled from foot to foot; he was still nurturing a grudge over recent events, especially his new landlord. Angel sighed again and looked Spike in the eyes and wondered why he was having to pay rent to his pain in the arse Grandchilde. “Patrol,” he muttered. “Oh right, time to go be manly men and battle things that go bump in the night.” Spike rolled his eyes, mentally cursing his lot in life and also having to have an Angel-sized pain in the arse limpet. Without another word, Spike slammed the door shut in Angel’s face and stomped around his apartment, muttering under his breath. All his delaying tactics had finally run dry. Tonight was the fifth night he’d participated in the slippery slope of betraying his kind. He hated it, and having to lurk around gawping at the luscious arse of the Slayer like Humbert Humbert was starting to get on his wick. He was giving Angel one more night to introduce him and if he didn’t then all bets were off. Spike snatched up his duster and stuffed a couple of stakes Anyanka had gifted him with. Right smart ones with engraved and embossed silver handles, hiding a nasty surprise for his enemies. He’d discovered the hidden buttons in the embossed work, which released a thin silver blade from the base of both. Impressive weapons for a dirty fighter, she’d said with a grin. He swung his duster over his shoulders and then rocked on his heels, this was it. After this night, there was no going back. “Spike, come on. I overheard Giles tell Buffy to patrol down by the docks. I want to follow her and make sure she’s safe,” Angel called, impatience colouring his voice and making him sounds surly. His dreams and hopes of having a protégé to mentor had not included chasing Spike around and trying to get him to help him. “You mean you’re going to stalk the bint and watch broodingly from the shadows,” Spike muttered under his breath. “You do realise she is the Slayer and can look after herself,” Spike teased as he yanked his door shut and leapt agilely over the banisters, landing four floors down. Nonchalantly dusting himself off, he sauntered out of his apartment block and into the night, trailed faithfully but resentfully by his Grandsire. ~~~~~~~~~~ “Do we have to lurk behind the barrels of rotting fish? Not very vamplike, is it? Lacks a bit of class,” Spike groaned. He lifted his duster and stared balefully at the suspicious smelling water stains. “Remember when we were the Scourge of Europe? Those were the days…Hang about. Even then you were one for running around and hiding in mine shafts.” Spike frowned and looked over at Angel, ‘he’d always been a pansy even when he didn’t have a sodding soul!’ “Shhh…there she is!” Angel gasped and pulled Spike down next to him. “What the fuck,” Spike snarled as his backside became intimately acquainted with a heap of fish guts. ‘Oh ruddy brilliant, wonder if I can rip his head off without anyone hearing him scream.’ Spike opened his mouth to let Angel have it and then abruptly slammed his mouth shut at the cow eyed look of love in Angel’s eyes. ‘Oh, for the love of Mike…he looks like a sweaty palmed virgin gawping at his first love.’ Spike shuddered at the calf eyes and turned to look in the direction of where Angel’s eyes were riveted. He licked his lips at the sight of the Slayer. “Dressed to thrill, isn’t she?” he teased, despite knowing that Angel would knock him on his arse, but the brooding nit was an easy target and he couldn’t resist. “Shhh, that’s not nice, Spike,” Angel whispered, his doting eyes never leaving Buffy’s face. Spike stared at Angel, his sharp blue eyes missing nothing. The look that the brunette vamp was gifting the Slayer was one of adoration and adulation. Spike raised a scarred brow and his lips curled into a half smile. ‘Well now…that’s interesting.’ He saw the bird as an ideal, not a flesh and blood woman with needs and dreams. That could only end in tears, Spike shook his head at Angel and resisted the urge to light up. ~~~~~~~~~ “Stupid Giles, sending me down here. Doesn’t he realise, fresh nubile girl on docks at night equals disgusting old farts perving on me? And thinking I’m a hooker.” Buffy kicked at the ground and pouted. “I am soooo not a skanky ho-bag.” Buffy pulled her jacket around her tank top and surreptitiously tried to pull her mini skirt down as far as she could get it to go. She froze mid-step and stared around her suspiciously, her sharp eyes scanning the shadows and the boats docked. Shrugging, Buffy carried on walking. She’d been positive that there had been a snort of laughter and then a scuffle. “Now if I were a stinky old demon, where would I be?” “Behind you! Oh bollocks…” a voice shouted from the shadows. Buffy whirled around and received a mouthful of demon fist. She went flying over the side of the docks and hit the water with a resounding splash. Spike slapped a hand over his traitorous mouth and leapt after Angel, yelling, “You get the slimey git, I’ll get the girl.” With that, he barrelled past a stuttering Angel and leapt with a howl of glee into the briny depths. “Wait, no…I’ll get the…” Angel growled once and then sprang into action. He fought the Gishgar demon half-heartedly; he wanted to be the one leaping into the sea saving her. Not Spike. Angel’s head reeled back from a blow and he snarled angrily, spitting blood and what looked suspiciously like an incisor out onto the wooden docks. He threw himself at the pale yellow demon with a roar, letting his game face slip to the fore. He sent a sharp jab to the throat of the Gishgar and then proceeded to get the stuffing beaten out of him by the slithery aquatic demon.. Spike hit the oily water with a resounding splash. He sent a mental glare at Anyanka as he felt himself start to sink. ‘Sodding wish.’ He vamped out and tried to pierce the murky gloom of the filthy water, searching for a shock of blonde hair. Swimming in the direction of some bubbles, he scanned the dark depths. Keeping his mouth shut—not wanting to swallow bilge from Guatemala or anywhere else for that matter—he saw it towards the rapidly petering out bubbles. He had no idea what would happen to him if the Slayer snuffed it; his curse was tied into her and for now he was stuck with it. Above his head, Angel fought tooth and nail, his concentration divided between the fight and the water below him. His face was cut in several places from the demon’s razor sharp fins and his left eye was swelling shut. He fell to his knees when another of the Gishgar’s friends appeared and slammed a packing crate over the dark haired vampire’s head. With a series of clicks and pops, the two demons communicated swiftly and then heaved Angel’s slumped form off and disappeared into the night. ~~~~~~~~~ Spike squinted through the sludgy murk and then let out a mental whoop of success. He could see a thin red thread of blood spiralling up from the depths just to his right and below him. He swam downwards, his amber eyes piercing the gloom. Spike reached down and grabbed hold of the limp wrist that was floating just under him and pulled hard. Two dark heads broke the surface of the water, neither of them drawing a breath of the air around them. “Come on, pet. Let’s get you somewhere warm.” Spike grunted and then swore long and loudly when he realised she wasn’t breathing. Her soft full lips were turning blue as he lugged her over his shoulder and climbed the rickety ladder before tossing her onto the abandoned dock. “Peaches, get over here and help her,” Spike shouted as he rolled Buffy’s lax form onto her back. Her hair was plastered to her face and her clothes were clinging wetly to her still form. “Oh buggery,” Spike rolled her onto her side and smacked her on the back, watching as what appeared to be gallons of water poured out of her slack mouth. Pushing her onto her back again, he began to give her mouth-to-mouth. He mentally thanked himself for being a smoker and using his lungs more often than other vamps, ensuring his body had never really forgotten how to breathe. Then he noticed how sweet her lips tasted and how they gave under his firm pressure. ‘She tastes like honeyed wine.’ Kneeling over her, he began to count out the gentle pumps to her heart. Watching and waiting for her to take a breath, he wasn’t sure how long a mortal could survive like this. In the past he usually left them for dead, not worked on keeping one alive—especially a Slayer. Those he’d killed and left in the dust without a backward glance. But this one was different. It almost seemed like they were tied together by dumb luck and curses – but he wondered if it was something more than that. Spike shook his head, and pushed aside the musings of a Williamesque nature. “Not now, Spike. Sod the ‘what ifs’ and ‘wouldn’t it be nice’s’ and focus on the drowned rat who’ll decide the fate of your unlife. Breathe you sodding bint, breathe!” he chanted, pumping hard at her chest. He lunged down and began to give her mouth-to mouth again. His demon purred at the miniscule amounts of blood that were seeping into his mouth from her spilt lip. Spike ignored the shaking in his hands, dismissing it as a reaction to the cold of the water. He pushed her hair off her face, mentally noting its softness. He covered her mouth and puffed more air in, a prickle of fear running down his spine. ‘Come on, gorgeous. Breathe for Spike, stop bloody scaring the fangs out of me.’ And then she answered his mental pleas. Buffy lurched upwards and turned her head and coughed up some more water. Great heaving coughs that cleared the water and helped her breathe again. She greedily sucked in the night air in massive gulps. Spike rocked back on his heels and stared down at the girl he’d just saved. He, the Slayer of Slayers, William the Bloody had just saved a Slayer’s life. He was damned, his rep was toast and if he wasn’t careful, then he’d be a target. But then she turned her hazel eyes up at him and he blinked, all thoughts gone as her hand reached up and caressed his mouth. “Pretty…”she seemed to whisper in awe. With that, Buffy passed out. A/N well they finally met! What did you thinks? Would love to hear

Chapter #4 - Chapter Four

OMG! Thank you all of you for the wonderful reviews! Elizabeth Anne Summers Tasha UncagedMuse Max and SpaceLord thank you! Italics-thoughts Itwas the sound of metal rasping on metal that tugged her from the blackness she was curled up fast asleep in. Buffy moaned softly and rolled onto her side, pulling the several layers of blankets over her head. "I'm sleepy, Mom. Just a few more minutes, ‘kay?" she mumbled into the soft pillow. As she sank back into a deep healing sleep, Buffy frowned slightly at the sound of a faint masculine chuckle. Then her breathing deepened and the soft snores she'd been emitting earlier began to fill the room again. Spike carefully placed the sabre he'd been sharpening on the coffee table and ghosted over to the open door and peered into his bedroom. He leant against the doorframe, arms crossed over his naked chest and limned in moonlight. His pale skin was a startling contrast to the bruises and scraps that littered his upper torso; he ran a tired hand through his tousled hair. Absently he ran a cautious finger over the bruise on his cheekbone and then sighed in unison with the small bundle of slayer snoring away on his bed. He was cursed, he knew it. The wish that Dru had inflicted upon him had changed him. He was saving slayers and ensouled granddads now? He sighed. It was getting worrying; he was changing into something he didn’t recognise. The gradual change from ‘The Big Bad' to whatever the hell he was now was beginning to snowball into a big change. A change that was starting to surprise the balls off of him. Never in his unlife had he expected to be where he was. Spike snorted at the realisation. If he were really honest with himself, then he wasn't too bothered by the changes. He'd never been one for causing apocalypses, he preferred to just muddle along, frightening the locals and getting involved in the occasional brawl was always good for the psyche. But since Anyanka had dragged him kicking and screaming to the Hellmouth, something inside him had started to shift and it tickled at his psyche. He doubted it was a moral compass - he was pretty sure Dru had drained that out of him in the stable when she turned him. The days filled with setting himself out with his posh new digs and the nights spent being forced to stalk the pretty kitten curled up in his bed had made him stop and think. Peaches may have her on a nice shiny pedestal and determined to keep her there, but Spike had realised she was just a girl. A girl with some added extras but who was trying to balance her two lives out and still have time to be more than just a weapon for the White Hats. It was that determination in her that had started his respect to kick in and take over from the moody bastard he'd become. The admiration that was budding in him was slowly spreading into dangerous territory, something he was trying to ignore, but she was a bloody gorgeous bird. Part of him still railed at Dru for tossing him aside and another part still yearned for his sire, but the fiery little madam snoring away in his bedroom was slowly wriggling her way into his heart and mind and Spike was surprised with himself for letting her. The bint was a pretty little thing and a bloody impressive fighter--rough around the edges and still needing training. But when she danced he was aching to join her and shake the gates of hell with their brawls. That was something an evil demon shouldn't crave, but he was slowly beginning to realise that there was more to life than a warm neck and the scent of fear as he drained it. And it was all her fault. Or he wished he could blame it all on her. "Back in a tick, pet. Need to go check on the other patient." He grimaced slightly, "though he's not as pretty as you, needs must and all that." Spike sighed and padded out of his apartment and headed to the basement. ~~~~~~~~~~ "That looks right nasty." Spike swung through the doorway and frowned at Angel's slumped form on the bed in the alcove. He frowned at the bloody mess of Angel's back and mentally thanked whoever looked out for evil sods like him that Angel had been nabbed and not him. "Doesn't feel that good from this end either," Angel muttered and shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable on his bed. "Right." Spike sauntered into the kitchen and picked up the first aid kit he'd been using earlier. "Thought I told you to keep still and let the wounds heal. You've been poking and prodding at ‘em, haven't you?" Angel twisted his head, trying to track his grandchilde's movement. "What are you doing?" he asked suspiciously. He was still in shock that the younger vampire had rescued him from the pair of demons earlier. He’d had been positive that he was dust or worse. Then Spike had appeared and saved him. There was an extremely horrified part of him that had curled up and died. He was the hero, not Spike, and yet he was the one in trouble and being saved - again. "I'm knitting booties for the spawn you nearly birthed." Spike pulled out some more sachets of blood from the fridge and added tossed them onto the bed. "What does it look like, you big pansy? Am here to patch you up again." "Ow, hey...Spike, what was that?" Angel craned his neck and frowned at the sight of his shredded back. Spike said nothing and continued to clean the wounds that had re-opened with a wet flannel and then frowned down at the deepest one. His heavy black fused together in deep thought as he considered the options for healing up the ponce. He’d already discounted giving him blood. ‘Not going down that effing path.’ "There's nothing doing, Peaches. Am gonna have to stitch you up." Without any preamble, Spike dug out a needle and thread and began to carefully close the wound with a fine thread. Spike shook his head at the muffled screams emanating from Angel. "Always knew you were a pillow biter," he chuckled, ignoring the angry growls issuing from the supine vampire, and carefully tied off the thread. He shifted into game face, slashed through the thread and gently slapped on a self-adhesive plaster. "Now get some sleep and don't bloody well wriggle about anymore. Those demons did a right nasty job on your back." He stood fluidly. "Do you want me to chain you to the bed?" he threatened jokingly. "Shut up, Spike." "Oh and that was such a lovely thank you for saving your lumpy arse and hauling you home and patching you up. God knows what would've happened to you if I hadn't arrived when I did." Angel shuddered at the memories and the exact reason why the demons had been flaying him. It was something he would take to the grave, and he hoped Spike would at least have the decency to not tease him about it for much longer. 'They'd wanted to use him for carrying their…' Angel shuddered and reached for one of the bags of blood that Spike had left near to hand and drained it swiftly. 'If only Spike knew how much I owed him for tonight.' A small spark of pride ignited in his chest; one of his own get had come and saved him. None had ever cared enough to do that, not since the time in Rome when Darla had rescued him from Holtz and the Inquistores. "Maybe it won't be that bad after all," he whispered and fell into a healing sleep. His mind was filled with hope at finally having a member of his family near him without wanting to dust him or thinking he was disgusting for having a soul. As he slept, barely a memory for Spike as the blonde made his way back to Buffy, not realising that there were more family members around than he had ever dreamed of. They did think he was disgusting for having a soul and if their plans failed then they were certainly planning to dust him. ~~~~~~~~~ It was the near silent click of a door that finally pulled Buffy from the deep sleep she was mired in. Confusion filled her the unfamiliar surroundings she’d been so comfortable in moments ago. "What the?" She slowly pushed herself up and leaned back against the pillows she had been snoring into. She knew she had been as the back of her throat was dry and her nose was scratchy. Her eyes flitted around the dark room; the only light was coming in through the open door. Her fingers twisted nervously in the layers of blankets covering her. She pushed her hair out of her face and huffed loudly. "This is getting weirder and weirder." One minute she was on the docks, the next in the icky water and then nothing. "So you're awake," a deep voice rumbled. "Ahhh!" She slid under the covers with a whimper. Spike approached the bed with a laugh. One minute she'd been all big eyes and quivery lips and now the slayer of his kind was hiding under his sheets and muttering to herself under her breath. “You okay in there?" With a humourous inflection in his voice and unable to resist, he teasingly pulled on one of the blankets he'd layered over her sleeping form earlier. Buffy's breath hitched at the sound of the voice again and then she freaked. From her current position she'd managed to discover that she was not wearing any clothes, only her white bra and matching panties. She began to hyperventilate. "Oh my god, he's seen me naked," she repeated over and over under her breath. "Oh for Christ's sake, I didn't look that much. Just got you stripped down, dried off and tucked up nice and snug in m'bed," Spike retorted. "Bloody annoying little chit, you're not even naked," he added inaudibly. Spike omitted to mention that he had appreciated the honey brown skin and the softness of her belly. He avoided telling her that he had run his hands over her face and hair and memorised her features. Shifting slightly he determinedly willed his cock to calm down. Somehow he doubted that the sweet innocent in his bed would be ready to have an eye to cock view of his hard on. Buffy reappeared from under the covers, her hair tangled and covering her face. "Ha! You're a depraved weirdo who wanders around the docks looking for, um…ewww! Oh my god! You're a perv and you kidnapped me and brought me to your icky lair and well...put me to bed and made sure I didn't get a cold—"she trailed off and flushed with mortification. "Saved you from drowning, got you somewhere safe and warm, made sure you didn't catch a chill, gave you my own bed to sleep in and never touched a hair on your pretty little head." Spike ticked off each point with a smirk. He thought it wise to not mention licking her wounded lips and sealing the cuts. The taste was still lingering on his tongue and his fangs were itching for more. "You saved me?" Buffy squeaked and then blinked when she finally focused on Spike. 'Whoa, he's a hottie,' her inner cheerleader squealed and Buffy blinked once and then twice. "Who are you?" She pulled the blankets further up to her chin, her eyes questioning. He resisted the temptation to tease her with the reply of 'who ever you want me to be, babe' and sank down next to the bed. "The name's Spike." "Your mom named you Spike?" Buffy mentally slapped herself for sounding so lame. "No, and no I am not ruddy well telling you any more about that, so pipe down." Spike raised a finger and waved it at her. Part of Buffy was aching to get out of bed and cross examine the cute guy, but she was naked and there was no way she was gonna move. "I'm Buffy," she blurted out, realising that he had no idea who she was. "I know, pet. Seen you around and we have a -" Spike pulled a sour face, "a - mutual friend in common." "Huh?" Buffy frowned at him. If she knew someone that he did there was no way she'd not have noticed the cuteness that was Spike. Then she froze as a warning tingle erupted down her spine. "What are you?" She edged backwards and fell off the bed with a squeak of humiliation. Buffy wondered if she could just keep the blankets permanently over her head. She flushed in mortification of the lameness that was her and managed to twist one around her body. "You okay down there?" Spike lounged on the bed and stared over the side at the wriggling mass of blankets and tried not to roll about laughing at her cuteness. "Just goddamn fine," she muttered and stood, humiliated at how dumb she was making herself look. "Good to know." Spike tucked his hands behind his head and arched his back, deliberately making sure she had a good view of his chest. "And as for what I am…Come on, Slayer. Don't make me spell it out for you." He deliberately emphasised her title and with a twinkle in his eyes he lithely stood in front of her. He knew he was taking a gamble, she could just as easily stake him as befriend him, but he was counting on her being a little naïve and hopefully not too lethal. "You know Angel?" was all she said, nothing about being a vampire, which surprised him. "Yeah, he's family." Spike couldn't help himself. "I saved him from being impregnated with the eggs of the Gishnar demons you got cold cocked by and patched him up." "Ewww, whaaa? That's gross. Hey, are you cursed too?" Buffy stared guilelessly up at him. "Is Angel okay?" she added breathlessly, guilt nudging at her that she hadn't immediately asked after him. "Fine. He'll heal up just fine. Don't you worry your pretty head about Peaches. As for the gross, what they do is slice and dice their victims and lay their eggs just under the skin until they are…er… ready to hatch." He trailed off at the green look on her face. "Are you sure you're the Slayer?" he teased. "What? Yeah why?" She frowned at him and then down at the blanket, knowing she wasn't really presenting herself at her Slayerly best, but he didn't have to make fun of her. "Not too good with the more colourful stuff about your job, are you?" he grinned, his face transforming boyishly and Buffy's breath caught in her throat. 'Holy crap! He is so cute...damnit, Buffy. Remember Angel, he's the one you want...' But she wasn't so sure when faced with the muscled chest of Spike - the nice smiley hexed vampire. Angel was still all mysterious guy and 'ohhhh, there's a big thing going down and you have to go slay it' before then mysteriously swirling off into the shadows, never really stepping in to get his hands dirty. He confused her and now here was one of his hot relatives, bare-chested and smiling at her, having saved her and Angel. He was all approachable and real, not enigmatic and broody. There was something really vital and genuine about him; the energy pouring off Spike was amazing. The humour and twinkle in his really blue eyes was pulling at her, and the smile on his lips was making her all goose-bumpy and wanting to giggle like Harmony. 'Oh bloody hell.' Spike sniffed the air and then inhaled deeply. His nostrils flaring and his eyes darkening with arousal, his body reacted to Buffy's delicate scent of excitement with a powerful interest. 'M'not here to shag the chit, jus’ here because of that sodding wish. Spike ol'man, don't you sodding dare fall for her...Oh bollocks' He reached over and pulled her to him, his mouth swooping down and capturing her startled mouth with his and kissed her. For a brief breathless moment she froze, then under his insistent mouth hers relaxed and Buffy let his questing tongue dip into her mouth with a breathy moan. One hand clutching the blanket tightly, she leant into his body and let her free hand slide up his back and her fingers tangle into the curls at the nape of his neck. Part of her was kicking herself for kissing him, betraying Angel and the bigger part of her was swooning over his kiss. It was the best thing that had ever happened to her mouth in her life. He was soft and tender to start and then nipping at her lips with his teeth and fiercely sucking her lower lip. A demanding, expert and harsh way that was sending tingles down her spine and making her crotch clench. Buffy sighed against his lips, taking a much needed gasping breath when he pulled back for one brief moment. She barely had time to refill her lungs before he was swooping down and capturing them again with his, his tongue lapping at the corners and then slipping past them to curl with hers. Buffy could feel her toes curling and her nipples hardening in excitement. She never wanted him to stop; she wanted him to kiss her like that forever. Spike groaned and wrapped his hands around her waist. He picked her up and held her against his body, his cock aching for release as his hips rocked against her. He was surprised that she hadn't wriggled away at the feel of it. He let one of his hands clutch at her soft backside as the other caught the back of her head. Both of them were so lost in the kiss that neither of them noticed their silent observers. "I told you that he liked her," Anya hissed and smacked Whistler on the back of the head. Now that she had been able to step back from the situation and realised that she'd been set up with a losing hand, she had returned every now and then to watch over Spike. He was a fellow demon and she felt bad for getting him involved with the Slayer. But from the look of things he was adapting quite well and enjoying some of the on the job perks. She had to stop herself from doing a Pylean Dance of Victory the moment she'd clapped eyes on Angel, she had disliked the big lummox. This was just perfect in her book; the two blonds were made for each other. "I know. Jeez, give a demon a break, will you?" Whistler winced and ducked away from her, his eyes riveted on the scene being played out in front of them. Somehow he'd never seen this coming and he doubted the Powers had either, but there was something right about the scene in front of him. He felt badly for Angel. He'd been the one to recruit him and dangle the pretty slayer-shaped carrot in front of his eyes-- and now this. "Now what's going to happen?" Anya demanded. Something surged inside of her - something very unfamiliar. It was protectiveness for a male. She frowned. Usually she liked to curse males and watch them suffer. But something about Spike appealed to her and if the Powers had something nasty planned then they would have her and all of Arashmahar to deal with. "How would I know? All I was told to do was get him on side and playing nice with the White Hats. I didn't expect this." He pointed at Spike lapping at the hollow of Buffy's throat. Whistler was stunned that a Slayer was letting a vampire near her throat like that and wondered if it was all fated to happen. "Me either, but it makes things kind of interesting." Anya grinned wickedly and vanished in a puff of smoke. "It does. Just hope she doesn't freak and stake him," Whistler added and then disappeared, leaving the oblivious blonds to their kiss. A/N See I got em to kiss!! Commenty goodness would be wonderful! Am shameless *g*

Chapter #5 - Chapter five

A sodding week and nothing. He thought the kiss had been a good one - but two minutes after it had ended she'd bolted out of the flat without a by your leave. Spike growled and punched the claw handed vampire in the face and then kicked him in the balls for good measure. He was getting bored with the fight. 'Where was the bloody Slayer? She should be doing her job, not me.' "Spike, what are you doing?" The blond vampire rolled his eyes and then punched his hand through the chest of his opponent, ripping its shrivelled little heart out and throwing it over his shoulder. He watched in satisfaction as its owner turned into a nice pile of dust with one final howl. He glanced over his shoulder and grunted at Angel in greeting. "What the ruddy hell does it look like, Peaches? I'm staking a naughty vampire who was after the Slayer, not stalking around with my hand in my pockets fiddling with my meat and two veg." "But that's the vampire I warned Buffy about. Why did you kill it?" "Are you daft or something? Warned her? Why didn't you just dust him and that would be the end of it? You great pillock." Spike scrabbled through his pockets and lit a much-needed fag. He glared at Angel, steam practically pouring out of his ears. "You do realise she’s not in this fight alone anymore?" Angel glanced up the darkened street, uncomfortable about being called on his actions. He frowned for a second, positive he had seen something move in the shadows under a tree. Before he could answer, Spike growled. He didn’t want to admit to Spike that he was still not fighting fit, something he and Whistler had worked on before he moved here. But now, he felt about as useful as Xander in a math lesson. . "For god’s sake, enough with the lurking in alleyways and start helping the chit, that's what you were tapped to do." He omitted adding that he was as well, even though it was more than obvious. Spike puffed furiously on his cigarette and stalked off down the street with Angel tagging on after him. "Wait for me!" he panted. "As if I could shake you from my side," Spike muttered. So caught up in their usual bickering, neither of them noticed their two silent observers. ~~~~~~~ "Buffy, you need to put more of a spin on that roundhouse kick," Giles grunted as she kicked the padded cushion he was holding. "Much better, try a spin and a dip with the next kick." Buffy nodded and narrowed her eyes in concentration; she bounced on the balls of her feet and then spun and kicked out, only to have her ankle caught in a firm cool grip. "Hullo there, cutie." She shivered at the sound of his voice, the same voice that had been haunting her dreams ever since she'd run away that night. "I say, unhand her," Giles spluttered. He frowned at the interloper who was distracting his ward. It had taken several months to get her in line and training with him without argument, but even now any small distraction was a worry. Initially he had despaired that Buffy would have ever taken advice from him, let alone train. Not after their disastrous first meeting and her initial reluctance to follow her calling. And now this. Giles’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the black clad man holding his charge’s ankle. "Chill, Giles. This is the guy who saved me last week." Buffy was surprised as to how strong her voice sounded. She frowned at her trapped ankle, acutely aware she was standing on one leg. "If I can have my leg back?" She shivered slightly as his cool fingers gently caressed her anklebone. His lips curled into a teasing smile. "Make me." Both the blonds ignored Giles muttering under his breath about hormones and the almost inevitable squeak of cloth on glass. Buffy arched an eyebrow at him and reluctantly wrenched her leg free from his loose grasp. "So…uh ...what are you doing here?" She resisted the urge to rub her skin where his fingers had caressed her, the remaining tingle making her feel all flushed. Spike tucked his duster around him and collapsed into a library chair. "Well, I'd heard quite a bit about this place and thought I better do the right thing and come and be all friendly like with your Watcher." "And why would I be friendly with you? As far as I am concerned you are a vampire." Giles replaced his glasses and frowned at Spike. “I may wear glasses, but I can assure you I am not blind.” "Giles," Buffy admonished. "I told you he saved me." "Yes and why was that exactly? Buffy has not made that very clear to me or the others." Giles sat down opposite the silent vampire and waited for a reply. Spike slouched in his seat and hooked his thumbs in the buckle of his belt and sighed. This was it, from now on there was no turning back. Dru's wish was about to kick into full effect and surprisingly there was little hesitation on his behalf. "Simple, I was cursed. My ex made a wish to a vengeance demon, asking for me to follow the light and here I am." "Ex?" "Cursed to follow the light? That's a bit ambiguous." Spike smiled at Buffy. He took in the flash of anger and jealousy at his mention of Dru, turning it over in his mind until he decided that he thought it was pretty cute. "The ex has a bit of a seer in her, think she saw something about me in the future and that's why she threw a wobbler and had me cursed…and that led to me being here. She's a tad bit off with her timing and whatnot, but as far as I can see, the Slayer here is the light and I am supposed to follow her." It'd taken several bottles of whiskey and a lot of self-reflection—something he wasn't prone to in the past—but eventually he realised that Dru had seen something in his future and flipped out. Calling for vengeance on events that hadn't yet occurred catapulted him here, moving everything along a lot faster than originally fated. Now that he'd had a taste of her lips, Spike was determined to move things along at his own pace for a while. That was why he'd come to the library and bearded the Slayer and her Watcher in her den. "Ex?" Spike looked over at Buffy with a smirk. "Yeah. Ex." Never in his unlife had he expected to be so dismissive of Dru. As far as he'd been concerned, the moment her fangs sank through his flesh, he was hers for all eternity. Well, she'd decided not and it had stung. So now he was forced to make a new life and new fate for himself. If it meant fighting with the Slayer then so be it, he'd never realised how much more fun it was fighting demons. They offered much more of a challenge than mortals, usually more often than not screamers that gave in. "I have to say, I know only a little about vengeance demons, but I do know that once cursed the individual has to fulfil the wish. So, what? Now you go from killing us to saving us? Just like that?" Giles asked calmly. Buffy stared at Spike, her mouth set in a firm line, waiting to hear what he'd say. "When Spike starts something, he doesn't stop. If he says that he's here to fight, then he will. I can vouch for him." "Angel." Buffy flushed bright red as guilt filled her. Ever since that kiss, she had not known what to do about Angel. There was some sparkage there still, but Spike had turned everything around and she was so confused. She didn’t realise that Spike was watching every nuance of her face and body and storing her reactions to his Grandpops for later pondering. The over-observant vampire suppressed a smile – she was not sure about the brooder anymore. "Hi, Buffy." The souled vamp smiled briefly at her and then focussed on Spike. "What's going on?" "I came here to be nice and friendly-like, let the Watcher know that I was around and helpin' out." Spike raised an eyebrow at Angel, wondering what on earth the great brooder was going to say and do. He was one for non-confrontation and lurking, not direct action. So his support had shocked the socks off him. Before anyone could say anything else, the library doors swung open and Willow and Xander clattered in chattering to each other excitedly. No one noticed the grimace on Angel’s face and his disappearance into the stacks. “Kinda heavy with the tension there, G-man.” Xander ambled over to the table, ignoring Giles’ spluttered rebuke and nodded amiably at Spike. “Hey, new guy.” He reached over and offered his hand to the bemused vampire. “Whoa, cold hands. Hey no worries man, you know what they say. Cold hands, warm – oh my god, you’re a vampire!” “Bright spark, that one.” Spike smirked over at Buffy and ignored the squawking issuing from Xander. Willow flushed bright red and nudged Buffy none too subtly and whispered something in the Slayer’s ear. Buffy’s ears turned red as she nodded and then gave Willow an evil look and shushed her. ‘Best kiss of her life, was it?’ Spike trained his face into a neutral expression and pretended to watch Giles calm Xander down. He scanned around the library wondering where Peaches had vanished to. “Make him swear on a stack of bibles that he won’t bite me,” Xander demanded. Despite the comment there was a surprising gleam of humour in his eyes. “You utter nit.” Spike shook his head and tried not to smile at Xander’s antics. “Xander, do grow up!” Giles admonished and glanced around him in surprise. “I say, where did he go?” Spike shrugged. He could still sense his pain in the arse grandsire lurking in the stacks, but decided to keep quiet. If he didn’t want to be here, soaking up the Slayer’s sweet scent, then who was he to let the cat out of the bag? “Sure G-man, tell a high schooler to act mature, that’s gonna work.” Xander pushed his heavy fringe off his forehead and gave Giles an amiable grin. Spike snorted and then glanced surreptitiously over at the two girls whispering together. His thick lashes masked his azure eyes as he soaked in her beauty, unaware of her Watcher cataloguing his every move and sigh. “Who?” Xander sat down opposite Spike and very obviously fiddled with a large crucifix that lay on the research table. “Angel.” Giles looked around, slightly discomforted by the behaviour of the dark haired vampire. He focussed on this, rather than the sneaked glances of what he was hoping was not attraction being exchanged by his ward and the newcomer. “Need to look into putting a bell on him.” Both Xander and Spike spoke at the same time, then they looked at each other and exchanged what could only be a grin. They had found common ground, something beyond vampires and mortals. Angel dislike. Spike leant back in his chair, laced his fingers behind his head and smirked at Xander. The teenager responded with a lopsided grin. Spike had scented the instant dislike and jealousy on the boy as soon as Angel had appeared. Something that he wasn’t above himself and it had him quite chuffed that he had found a potential ally in the battle against the annoying Angel shaped pain in his arse. The observant vampire realised that this boy could either be a stumbling block or an ally. He decided that it would make his life easier of it were the latter. “Looks like the beginning of a beautiful friendship, mate.” He arched a heavy brow at Xander and waited for a beat before turning to Giles. “He’s gone, can’t sense him.” Angel had slunk off while Giles had told off Xander. Spike guessed that crowds still discomforted his elder and was not too concerned about helping him out. Not if it meant he wasn’t around the Slayer. She was his. Slayer might not know it yet. But soon, she’d be all too aware of him and what they could have. Dru didn’t want him, that much was slowly becoming clear and the chit flirting with him through her lashes seemed to if her kiss and whispered admissions to her girlie were anything to go by. “Oi, don’t poke me with that,” Spike growled. Surprised that the whelp had caught him unaware and managed to prod him with the tip of the crucifix he’d been fiddling with. “Friendship? You and me? Vamp and moist edible human? Making with the friendlies – as if!” Xander rolled his eyes and chuckled. Part of him was aching to make nice with the vamp who had the mutual hatred for Angel, but a bigger part of him could still see Jesse dusting on the end of his stake. The same stake he had hidden away under his bed with his Spiderman comics. “Why not? We can taunt the Poof with pop culture references. It’s not like he’d get any of them!” Spike rocked back on his chair and pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth. The boy was nearly hooked but there was something blocking him. He could almost taste the wanting to be buddies and realised that it was going to involve a bit of work. “Spike, be careful, you might fall on your ass,” Buffy interrupted the testosterone display between the two of them. She brushed past Willow and pushed the chair he was rocking on with a bang. “And don’t be mean to Angel,” she added absently and then whirled round and pinned Xander with a glare when he laughed. “You too, Xander.” Spike’s eyes darkened at the lingering touch of her slender fingers on the nape of his neck. ‘Oh, curls of Spike.’ Buffy gulped and snatched her hand away before she began to pet him like a big cat. Her slayer hearing, unlike the others, had not missed the near silent purrs that erupted from his chest from her unconscious touch. “Umm, Buffy, so Bronzing tonight before patrol?” Willow managed to control her nerves long enough to diffuse the hormone filled flirtage that was filling the library. “Oh yeah, Mom bought me the cutest outfit on Saturday. I am sooo wanting to show that one off. I bet Cordy will be all with the envy.” Buffy began to babble excitedly about strappy sandals and hair products, unaware of the by play between Spike and Xander. Neither girl was listening to Giles muttering about the sacred duty of a Slayer not entailing dressing up like trollops and wriggling around on the dance floor to rubbish music. “Sheesh, women,” Xander whispered to Spike, unconsciously taking the first step into a friendship that would change his outlook on life, the universe and everything. A/N well there we go the last of the chapters I am posting before Christmas - more to come after the holidays I am writing chapter nine and this fic will be finished by end of January as I have a plans for season two of ! Soooo please make me a very happy bunny and comment *g* Thank you!

Chapter #6 - Chapter Six

Be warned it is NC17 at the end and some strong language - bet that's got you all perked up and interested *g* Italics - Thoughts He felt like a spectre at the feast, an orphan with his face pressed up against a window watching a family laughing and playing together. He wanted to belong, yet he was always on the outside aching to be included and not able to work out how he could manage it. He wanted to blame his soul, but he realised deep down that it was a failing in his internal make up – he was flawed. Damaged. He’d followed them all night and now they were dancing. He felt so left out, his heart refused to accept what his head was slowly beginning to realise. He was losing her to him – to Spike. Part of him wanted to laugh and the rest of him wanted to cry, but even then Angel realised that there was nothing in him that wanted to harm his grandchilde. And he was surprised—no, stunned. If he’d been half the vampire he had been back in the day, Buffy would be either deranged, drained or turned and Spike would be a faint whispering memory, the dust under his booted feet. . ‘They look perfect together,’ Angel admitted internally and sighed. He thrust his hands into his duster pockets, his eyes never leaving the blond couple as they swayed and moved to a beat only the two of them could hear. Their bodies and minds in perfect unison as they twisted and whirled around and around, arms moving in deft quick moves. Angel sank to his knees, the pain in his heart doubled at the sight of Spike exchanging a brief grin with Buffy. His mouth opened in a silent scream of unrelenting anguish, unaware of his two silent observers. “Duck, Spike.” Buffy’s voice called to his soul and Angel looked up from the ground. He could barely see her through the tears swimming in his eyes. She reached over and dusted the vampire that was about to slam a tombstone over Spike’s head. ‘They were lyrical.’ He took a deep and unnecessary breath as he watched the two of them fight side by side. Their energetic moves were perfectly choreographed, they were the mirror image of each other dancing and fighting – it was all the same in his mind. He was losing them both and it hurt more than he could express. He was so alone. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Geez, Spike. Come on. We’re gonna be so late for Bronzing goodness!” Buffy exclaimed as she staked her final opponent. She turned to watch Spike bob and weave as he fought the final fledge with a maniacal grin of glee on his full lips. She licked her lips automatically, wondering if he’d felt the same about that kiss. It had shocked her out of her socks, well if she’d been wearing any it would’ve. The kiss had been more than any other she’d ever experienced, and she wanted more, but didn’t know if he did. He was so much more experienced than her and well she felt kinda teenyboppy with the squeeage over it with Willow. Buffy blinked, astounded, all the time she’d been ‘lips of Spikeing’ no though of Angel had entered her mind. She felt bad. There had been a time, before Spike turning up that Angel had been the centre of her thoughts. And well now… Spike whirled, his duster floating out around him dramatically as he plunged his specially carved stake into his opponent’s chest without any muss or fuss. He tossed it up in the air, watching the silver handle gleam in the pale moonlight before a slender tanned hand snatched it up. “Ohh, shiney.” Buffy held the intricately carved stake up and gazed at it enviously. Spike stepped back and lit a cigarette, his azure eyes never leaving her flushed face. He grinned at her wide eyed excitement and interest. He respected a woman who appreciated a nice weapon. Mentally slapping himself for the awful pun, he stuck the fag in the corner of his mouth. Squinting his eyes through the smoke, he tipped his head back and sighed melodramatically. “I suppose you can have it.” He grinned at her excited squeal, holding up a hand to stop her bouncing around the cemetery like Tigger on acid. “Only if you can find the toy surprise in it,” he said and smirked at the sudden shift of concentration in her. Buffy frowned at the stake and ran her fingers over the carved sigils and protective runes, her mind registering the beauty of the piece. “Toy surprise?” She shifted her attention to the silver handle, her finger tips rubbing over the embossed work. “Where did you gets?” she asked perkily. “Was a pressie from the being who recruited me to come here,” he sighed. Spike mentally groaned at the sight of her hand absently sliding up and down the stake, he wrapped his duster around him and surreptitiously adjusted himself. Her innocence radiated on her face, but the inadvertent lasciviousness action of her hand was going to kill him. He was desperate to grab her and press her hand against his aching cock, but managed to restrain himself. He settled for watching the tiny crease of concentration appear on her forehead and the tip of her pink tongue unconsciously popped out as she tried to find the hidden catch. ‘Oh hell…’ “Oh,” Buffy nodded, her attention half on the stake and the half on him. “Got it!” she squeaked excitedly and pushed the release button. “Wow, that’s awesome.” The thin silver blade glittered wickedly in between them. “Nice one, right? Got the mate to it right here.” He patted his coat pocket and then grunted, his unprepared arms full of warm slayer body. He quickly caught hold of her hips and twisted her slightly so that she rested against his side and not on his rock hard cock. He grimaced and wondered when he’d become such a gent. “Thank you.” “My pleasure.” And it was as he cradled her firm form against his and wondered if he could dust from sexual frustration. ~~~~~~~~~~ He knew he shouldn't lurk and stare but it was all that was left for him. It had started the moment the peroxide menace had arrived. Now Spike was the centre of everything and part of him--an infinitesimal part of him—resented it. Most of the time he was proud and wished he had the pizzazz that the younger vampire had, but he'd lost it when the guilt from his centuries of kills had mired him in an unliving purgatory. One he deserved to be in; he'd raped and pillaged his way through the years without a thought for the destruction he had wrought and now he was making amends. But he couldn't work out Spike at all. He was cursed to fight for good, but never revealed why. Angel frowned. He knew it wasn't a scam to lull Buffy's defences down and then bag his third slayer as Whistler and that weird chick had vouched for him. He hadn't liked her very much. She had a harsh voice and she'd smelled funny-- all of which made his hands clammy. Angel suppressed a growl when a bunch of teens jostled him out from under the stairs. He glanced around desperately searching for cover, but it was too late. He heard his name being called over the music filling the Bronze. Of all of them he knew it would've been Willow to spot him, she was still in that awkward teenage stage and being a good soul she was aware that he was as uncomfortable in crowds as she was. Her loyalty to Buffy made her welcome him during the few instances that they were around each other. "Angel, over here. We didn't know if you'd come." Willow waved a hand enthusiastically and gestured to the table where the others were all crowded around. His broad shoulders slumped and then straightened with determination. He looked around for Buffy but she wasn't anywhere to be seen. There were too many pheromones in the air for him to be able to scent her, so he made his way through the crowd to Willow and Xander. Angel schooled his face into a blank expression at the sight of the male Scooby. Xander glared at him before muttering something under his breath and then sipping from the glass in front of him. "Hey." Angel shifted uncomfortably on his feet and looked anywhere but at the empty chair Willow had patted encouragingly. "Soulboy," Xander grunted. His eyes flickered dismissively over Angel. He felt intimidated by the older and more experienced vamp. He also wasn't too sure about the Buffy interest-- it edged on the side of creepy stalker guy. Xander surreptitiously peeked over at the pool table where Spike and Buffy were engaged in a game. 'How come Angel isn't more like Spike?' Xander blinked and then gulped loudly. Willow frowned at his unexpected ‘fish out of water’ impression. "Xander? You okay?" She reached over and stroked him on the back of the hand, concern marring her smooth forehead with faint lines and her pale green eyes ever-filled with warmth and affection. Xander shook him head, his mouth firming as he tried to stop himself form shrieking at the top of his lungs. "Fine, just thinking with the big thoughts and kinda surprised myself with something." There was no way he was saying anything. Spike was an okay guy for a member of the undead club, and big bonus points that he hated Angel as much, if not more that himself . They had bonded over their jibes at the brooding hulk and Xander was still trying to assimilate Spike = friend into his book, to his surprise it wasn’t taking that long. What was weird was that it wasn't too hard to do so. Xander looked at the hunched uncomfortable form of Angel and wondered why he wasn't more up to date with the pop culture references and music like Spike was. He figured that was one big negative on the scales of fitting with the gang, not knowing what the hell they were talking about. 'Does he live under a rock? Hasn't he ever cracked open a comic book or turned on a tv?' "Where's Buffy?" Angel ground out the question past his gritted teeth. The noise from the band was starting to give him a headache and all the people thronging around him were driving him to distraction. The scents of sweat, blood, arousal and teen hormones were making his fangs itch and his bumpies throb under the skin. He deliberately stopped breathing and mentally took a break to try and calm himself. Xander twitched in surprise. The lummox who usually pretended he didn’t exist had spoken to him. The imp in him was unable to resist. "Over there with Spike." He pointed over Angel's shoulder in the direction of the pool table, completely ignoring Willow's hissed 'don't' and firm kick in the ankle. Angel rotated slowly in his seat, ready for the sight of the two of them together. He'd been ready since following them on patrol, and there they were. He watched impassively as Buffy leant over the table, cue stick in hand, and flipped her hair over one shoulder as she turned her head to exchange a comment with Spike. The peroxided boil on his butt was leaning against a pillar, a bottle of beer held loosely in his fingers as his other hand twirled the cue absently. He laughed at whatever Buffy said before she sunk the ball she was aiming at in the right corner pocket. Angel schooled his expression into a neutral one. For a split second in his mind’s eye he had seen himself leap across the dance floor, tear off Spike's head and then lay Buffy out on the pool table and ravish her. But he didn't do it. It was wrong. "Oh," was all he managed before swivelling back round to face Willow's compassionate face and Xander’s smirking one. A smirk that was so suspiciously familiar that Angel frowned. 'Wonder if he's been taking lessons from Spike?' ~~~~~~~~~ Spike had noticed the moment the ponce had come into the club. The familial ties were something he couldn’t block out with Peaches, but he could choose to ignore him, so he did. It'd been a long night; the patrolling had been a barrel of laughs. A good brawl before a pint had always been the best way to start the night and with the Slayer, the fighting was guaranteed to be of the highest calibre. He stared at her soft lips as she unconsciously pouted while lining up her shot. Her lips, they were pure temptation. He couldn't shake off the feeling of their kiss. The softness of her skin, the plump fullness of her mouth as it submitted to his, the tentative way her tongue had peeped out and tangled with his. 'Fuck, now I've got a hard on – again.' He surreptitiously adjusted his duster over his crotch and tried to will away the erection that was pressing against his zipper. He could sense she was an innocent, and the last thing he wanted to present for her pretty eyes to see was a monumental tenting effect in his jeans. Spike cocked his head as he felt something come through the familial links that Angel was constantly trying to strengthen. He knew that the older vamp was lonely and depressed. That had pretty much been a given the moment the gyppos had shoved a soul up his arse, but now it seemed more desperate. There was a keen edge to it that had not been there a few days ago. Spike frowned. He looked over at Angel and was presented with the sight of his anguished appearance for a brief moment before he schooled his features into a blank expression and turned away from them. "So the bet is, I get to stake the next three vamps if I sink this one?" Buffy flipped her hair over her shoulder and stuck her lower lip out in a cute pout. Spike smiled and nodded, "Yeah, and no interfering from the Big Bad, scouts honour." "As if you were a boy scout," she laughed and turned back to focus on her round shiny target. "Ate a Scout Master once, does that count?" Buffy wrinkled her nose and took the shot. She turned to face him without watching to see where the ball ended up, and knowing it would make its merry way into the pocket. "That is tooooo much information. I don't wanna hear about the bad old days!" "Better than me pretending it never happened." Spike sauntered past her with a smirk as he watched the ball disappear into the netting. "Bollocks." He shook his head. "Should know better than to bet with you when if comes to staking vamps or killing demons and especially pool." "Healthy competitiveness is something that cannot be denied, or so Giles says." Buffy giggled. She looked over at the table to wave at Willow and spotted Angel. Her happy smile faded away as worry and guilt rushed through her. "He arrived a few minutes ago," Spike commented without looking over at her. He instinctively knew what she was thinking and was surprised with himself for not questioning it. He was starting to accept that his unlife was taking a different path than he'd planned and rather than fight it or brood over it, he'd decided to take it as it came and enjoy himself. Not that it was too hard with the pretty little chit that was currently playing pool with him. "Maybe I should go say hi?" Buffy didn't want to but she realised that it would hurt Angel immensely if she didn't. "Do what you think is right, luv. I'll be right here waiting for you." Spike lined up a shot and sank the ball without turning a peroxided hair. Strangely, knowing he was there waiting for her gave Buffy the confidence to go to Angel. Ever since the kiss she'd felt guilty and avoided Angel as much as she could. This had been easy enough as he was still all with the cryptic warnings and fading away. If Spike hadn't turned up, she figured that it would've probably made her more interested in Angel. She had always been a sucker for the cute guys all with the broodiness, but something in Spike had called to her and whatever it was, she wanted to examine it more. Buffy realised that maybe Angel was too enigmatic for her. The romance of his aloof behaviour had been exciting at first, but now she didn't know. Spike was just more electrifying. His weirdness at the beginning long gone; now he was all with the fighty help and also was a whole lot more fun to hang out and patrol with. Not to mention that kiss. The kiss had been amazing, so much more than she'd ever experienced and Joyce hadn't raised a fool. Buffy wanted to see what more could come of it. "Hi, Buffy." Buffy nearly jumped out of her skin. She’d managed to walk over without realising it and was now staring blankly at Angel. It was only his soft greeting that had pulled her from her Spike-shaped thoughts. "Hey." She gave him a small wave. "What's up? Something demony around I need to kill?" Angel frowned and then let out a big sigh. "No." He looked at her and realisation dawned; his actions in the past, only appearing to warn her when something evil was brewing, had helped push her into Spike's arms. 'Spike always was more fun to hang out with – even back in the day', Angel thought sadly. Gone were the days when he was a drinker and a brawler. Darla's fangs had birthed the darkness within him into full bloom and all he’d wanted to do was main and kill; there had been no room for fun and parties. Then the soul had seen an end to that and he sure as hell didn’t feel like clubbing after the curse. He realised in that moment that he'd been to enigmatic for his own good, his fear of being around mortals with their tempting pulses had created the situation he was in now. Alone, sad and depressed, and without Buffy by the looks of it. "No, I just thought I would come out and say hi…so, um.,,hi?" He gave her a small smile. Buffy had watched Angel closely from the moment he'd spoken; she could see the hurt in his eyes but didn't know what had put it there. She wished she could do something to make him a bit happier, but had no idea what to do. All their interaction so far was, 'ohhh, be careful. There is thing called The Harvest on or there's a vamp with a big fork instead of a hand after you'. They'd never really hung out and she had no idea what he was really like, except for the cute leather jacket he’d leant her, Buffy frowned wondering what she’d done with it. "Hi." She gave him a teeny smile and waved again. "So everyone's said hi. That's good. Buffster, how ‘bout getting Blondie over there to come over and we can…oh crap." Xander glared over at the girl who had appeared by Angel's side. "Cordy, what do you want?" He frowned at the immaculately coiffed brunette who was giving Angel an assessing look. Spike stared over at the tall, dark and foreheaded one and the tableau of potential drama that was unfolding at their table. Xander and Willow were both glaring at the brown-haired bint who'd insulted him the first night he'd gotten here. Angel was staring at Buffy as if she were a final meal, which made Spike's hackles twitch, and then there was his Slayer. She stood there awkwardly looking from her friends to Angel to the snot who was for some reason ogling Peaches as if he were the latest stud from a teen flick from the John Hughs oeuvre. A scarred brow quivered momentarily and then curved upwards to almost meet his hairline. Now there was potentially the answer to his Angel-shaped problems. A pretty chit, with a yen for some undead booty--not that she knew that yet. A veritable luscious big-breasted distraction, which may give them all a break from the doom-laden broodmeister. Maybe if he had a new girl to interest him then possibly Angel would not be so lonely and clingy. He had to play this one right and re-direct the Poof's attention onto the bint. "Well...well...well, what do we have here?" Spike sauntered over and eyed Cordelia's immaculately clad form with a suggestive leer. "Aren't you a juicy lil'morsel?" "Spike!" Buffy's eyes widened at the sight of the vampire she considered her property making with the flirtage with Spordelia. "Trust me, pet," he murmured as he leant past her to slap a choking Xander on the back. His voice was whisper soft, pitched so low that only she could hear what he said. "Eww, it's you. Nicotine boy with the bad dye job. Ever heard of a stylist, you Billywannabe?" Cordelia turned her nose up at Spike and batted her lashes at the hunk of salty goodness, who was rapidly losing cool points for sitting with Willow and geek boy. She so needed to rescue him from social suicide, his only redeeming points being that he knew Buffy. She eyed the blonde girl who she had been so sure would've been an excellent addition to the Cordettes. She had a veneer of LA cool still, but it was tempered with the Smokey the Blond bandit and nerd hanging out. But if she knew the big cutiepie, then maybe she was redeemable. "Charming girl." Spike gritted his teeth and managed to refrain from ripping her viperous tongue out of her mouth and strangling her with it. "Ain't she just? Willow and I just love her to bits," Xander whispered. "Hmmm," was all Willow added to the Cordelia commenting. "So who are you? And what are you doing over here with the nerd club?" Cordelia curled a hand around Angel's forearm and batted her lashes at him. ~~~~~~~~~~~ "Um, well I better get in. Mom will be wondering where I got to." Buffy shifted from one foot to the other nervously. She wondered if Spike would try to kiss her, she was kinda hoping yes. Spike rubbed the back of his head with one hand and looked sheepishly up at her. He kicked at the ground with one foot as Buffy stepped up onto the porch and reached for the door knob. "I had a good time, with the Slayage, Bronzing goodness and the poolage. The mating rituals of Cordy were a bit funky to watch, but hey, it was all of the good, right?" "You're cute when you ramble," Spike teased. His eyes lit up with humour and, unable to resist the cuteness that was Buffy, he leapt up onto the porch and wrapped her in his arms and gave her a sound kiss. ~~~~~~~~~~ She was so warm and pliable. Her limbs were covered with a slick sheen of dampness as he ran his broad hands over her soft lush form, his fingers deftly seeking out spots that made her squirm and giggle. He felt content, at peace and wanted. His mouth followed suit, tasting all of her. From her smiling mouth to her tight nipples and the lush curves of her hips. The sweet nest of curls covering her swollen and soaked femininity was saturated with her excitement, and laved his tongue hungrily through them. Her fingers knotted in his hair as she undulated her hips and let her juice slicked thighs drop open to accommodate his shoulders. "Lick me there, please...oh good, yes!" she screamed happily as his tongue lapped at her swollen nether lips. His fingers pulling them apart to reveal her hidden treasure and he watched fascinated as her opening flexed open slightly and then tightened closed. He could see her blood engorged clit pushing out from under its hood, begging for some attention. He pressed a soft kiss to the petal soft skin and ran his tongue gently along the sides, outlining the area he wanted to be buried in. God, it had been so long since he'd touched anyone so intimately. The scent of her arousal was intoxicating him, slowly he let his tongue curve out and dip into her wet cleft. He moaned at the taste of her as he trailed his tongue up to her nubbin and tapped it gently. He winced slightly at her sharp nails digging into his scalp as she shouted out her delight; he took a breath and suckled her clit into his mouth. "More, I need more, use your fingers in me, oh god, please," she chanted. Her heels drummed an unsteady tattoo on his back as he devoured her. Fingers thrust into her wetness as his mouth was busy on her red clit, teeth worrying it gently as he pulled her higher and higher into bliss. She curved her back, pushing her swollen breasts upwards, one hand leaving his hair to trail up her flexing belly and tweak at her nipples, pulling them and twisting them as her arousal grew. "Oh my gooooood, you're soooo good!" she screamed as her body tensed and then relaxed as her orgasm washed over her. "Hmmm, your tongue should be bronzed. Are you ready for me, sweetie pie?" With that he was pushed onto his back and his lover slithered down his body, her long hair tickling his belly as she reached her destination. "Ohhh, hello, is that all for me? Yum!" She ran her tongue up the length of him and pressed a kiss on the crown of his cock. Without any preamble, she took his aching cock into her mouth and sucked hard on the tip. Her hands rubbed the inside of his thighs and then reached down to cradle his balls, one finger sliding behind and tickling at his perineum, causing his hips to rock upwards. His cock thrusting down her throat, she took a breath and happily devoured him. One thing she knew she was good at was this and now that she had him in her bed there was no way that he was getting away without her giving him a blowjob that would rock his world and blow his mind. "Oh Christ." He turned his head and groaned, a deep full bodied groan that came from the depths of his body. His hands cradled her bobbing head, his thick fingers threading through her long tresses, steadying her. His eyes were riveted to her full pouting lips as she slurped her way up and down his erection, determined to devour him whole. He was in heaven. A/N commenty goodness pretty please

Chapter #7 - Chapter Seven

Many MANY thanks for all the wonderful reviews here on BSV I am thrilled to bits that so many of you are enjoying and taking the time to feed my frazzled muse - hope you enjoy this chapter. She was bone tired. The night had been a revelation to her. She was tired and achy, but in a good way. A pleasant burn to her muscles and her thighs where they still quivered from the workout they’d gotten. All in a very, very good way--her body was humming with a suppressed excitement that she thought would have waned by now. She felt elated and satiated at the same time, something she’d never felt before with any of the other guys she’d hung out with. “Coffee?” She twitched slightly at the sound of his voice. Where the hell was she and what had she done? And oh my god, her mom was gonna kill her! Buffy rolled over and promptly fell off the sofa and onto the hardwood floor with a resounding thump. “Owie.” She balefully glared up at the laughing pest and rubbed her head. She was about to launch into a blistering telling off when her mouth dried up and her sleepy eyes widened in shock and appreciation. He was standing over her dressed in a pair of low slung sweats, the waist barely hanging onto his lean hips. Her mouth watered as she took in the strong muscles that were defining his oh so lickable chest and six-pack. She blinked and then checked again. He was sooo not wearing anything under them! She squeaked in surprise and scrambled backwards, her hands making contact with a softly snoring form. “Xander?” Buffy frowned in confusion. Had she fallen into some weird ass dimension where sexy vampires wandered around half naked and her best friends were sleeping on floors oblivious to the hormone fest. “Pet? You alright?” Spike squatted down and reached for the confused and aroused girl. He could see her skin flushing redder and redder as her pupils dilated and her arousal scented the air around her. He was relieved that her friends were sleeping on, oblivious to the tableau of cute, aroused and confused slayer. Buffy nodded, trying to stop her eyes from following the lines of his bulge that was starting to twitch and grow slightly. She wanted to scream that it was huge and the point at it, but managed not to. ‘Not cool—not cool at all, Buffy! Oh my god! Ignore the bulge and stare at his chest…noooo, dammit, that’s way too lickable, stare into his eyes. Oh god, his gorgeous eyes and hey! Is he laughing at me?’ Unconsciously mirroring Spike, she cocked her head and raised a sardonic brow at him. “Come’ere, pet.” Spike reached out a steady hand, smiling gently when her clammy palm slipped into his and he pulled her away from the still snoring Xander. He steered her around Willow’s supine form and into the kitchen, shutting the door quietly behind them. ~~~~~~~~~~ “Morning beautiful. So are you going to answer me?” Spike reluctantly let her hand go, his thumb lingering for a brief caress of the sleep warmed skin. He stared unabashedly at her; she was a vision of cuteness. All sleep rumpled and flushed. He cocked his head again. ‘Is she staring at my package? Cheeky little minx.’ Buffy tore her eyes away from his groin area and blushed again. “Wha?” She began to fidget under his knowing gaze. She was about to smack his smirk off his face when he broke the silence, again. “Coffee? Tea? Or…” his eyes twinkled wickedly, “me?” his voice dropping into a deeper pitch. He couldn’t resist teasing her; she’d done enough of that on the dance floor last night, writhing all over him like a cat in heat. Turn about was fair play. His lips still tingled at the memory of their first two kisses and he wanted more, something he’d have to sort fairly soon, he mentally reminded himself. “Spike, sheesh. Chill with the sexiness and enough with the not so concealed innuendoiness,” she hissed, risking a glance at the firmly shut door. “They might hear!” “So?” Spike leant back against the counter with an unrepentant smile on his full lips. “Well…” “Yeah?” he teased. “Um…”Buffy decided that obviously the new colour this year for her was beet red as she felt her face burn hot with embarrassment. “They’re asleep. No need to give them an early morning wake up call that might freak them out.” She figured that neither Xander nor Willow had much experience, and if they overheard Spike flirtage it may turn them gay or something from the trauma. “Ahhh.” Spike noticed that she hadn’t said anything along the lines of ‘ewww, no way in hell and a pox on your willy’, which filled him with an irrepressible glee. She may be an innocent, and more importantly a slayer, but it seemed that he was in with a chance. As long as he was a good puppy and also waited until she was a wee bit older. As it was he felt like a pervert letching after her nubile body. His eyes glazed over at the memory of her rubbing the aforesaid body all over him again. He could still feel her leg twining around his hips as she had dirty danced with him; he was still amazed that they hadn’t been chucked out of the Bronze. Or that Peaches hadn’t had an embolism on the spot, come to think of it. Apart from the few minutes when he’d lurched out of the shadows and been corralled by Willow, he’d not seen the Brooding Limpet again. “Juice please.” Buffy’s sweet voice pulled him away from his wondering where his shadow had gotten to and back to the present. He busied himself with putting together some grub for her. “No probs.” He’d slipped out during the night and stockpiled on food in preparation for the morning after the sleepover. Spike mentally shook his head at how his unlife had changed so radically, all due to a wish from his not so lamented sire. Spike had slowly accepted over the few short weeks since he’d arrived at the Hellmouth that Dru had not wanted him. His demon railed that the ease of her chucking away one hundred years of loyalty. Well, loyalty on his behalf. He’d smelled enough vamps and demons on her over the years to sink a battleship, but he’d loved her so much that he’d forgiven her each infidelity easily. But then there was Buffy, a tiny beam of sunlight that had entranced him with her strength and sweetness. Bugger that, the entire package was just about perfect. They fit, fit in a way that had shocked his socks off and silenced his demon, who was he to complain? Well, not anymore apparently “Ohhh are those blueberry and white chocolate?” Buffy’s eyes were latched onto the muffins he began to put into the oven to warm, she hoped she wasn’t drooling. “Oh…and you got triple chocolate as well, the perfect yum.” She mentally added that he was the perfect yum as well, all with the bed hair and muscles and food. “Figured you lot’d be a bit peckish.” Spike handed her a glass of chilled OJ and ducked his head in embarrassment at the look of adoration in her eyes. She was hooked; all guilt about Angel was filtering away. Spike was shaping out to be the perfect vamp/guy. Not only did he help with the slayage and research, he also made an effort with Willow and Xander, something Angel had not really tried to do. She realised that the incipient crush she’d zealously nurtured for the other vampire was fading away in the light of his dynamic family member who’d blasted into their lives. Spike glanced up as he straightened from the oven and couldn’t resist it. He took a few long strides over to her, his lean fingers cupping her chin and tilting her head up. Leaning down he stole a soft sweet kiss, his mouth brushing over her lips several times before his tongue flickered over, asking for permission. With a soft sigh and utter disregard to morning breath, Buffy parted her lips and suckled gently on his tongue. Spike moaned in the back of his throat as a shot of arousal jolted down to his groin. With a happy sigh he hauled her against him and devoured her mouth. Pressing biting kisses over her cheeks and down her throat before reaching her shoulders, Spike slowly licked and nibbled his way up and down. Savouring the taste of her skin, he could feel his cock twitching against her stomach and tried to arch away a bit so as not to frighten her off. Buffy grumbled against his ear and then caught his lobe in her teeth and gave it a firm suck. Her hands drifted down his back, memorising each cut muscle until her hands boldly cupped his perky ass and pulled him back against her. ~~~~~~~~~ She shifted and turned, her hand reaching out for him. But the bed was empty except for her. She frowned in confusion and sat up, clutching the sheet modestly to her breasts. Irritably she shook her shoulders at the sensation of feathers drifting down her back. It was itchy and gross; she absently scratched her shoulder, oblivious to the destruction wrought. “Hello?” There was nothing, only silence in the apartment. She slid out from under the covers, her eyes searching for her clothes. They lay scattered on the floor; she could mentally trace their path into the room last night by the layout of her shirt, skirt, bra and panties. Shivering slightly at the cold, she bent over and grabbed them and dressed quickly, grimacing at the sensation of their mingled juices seeping out of her as she pulled on her black lace thong. “So need a shower…” ~~~~~~~ “Ahhh, face washing, soooo not what a guy needs to see first thing!” Buffy and Spike pulled reluctantly apart at the sound of Xander’s voice. Spike surreptitiously slipping behind her to hide his raging erection against her soft backside. He looped his hands around her slim waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. Buffy giggled and tilted her head slightly to accommodate him. “Hey, Xander.” Buffy gave him a small wave and studiously tried to ignore Spike’s hardness as he pressed his hips against her. “Morning, Buffster.” He gave them a sheepish grin and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He’d sorta expected to find the two of them macking, especially after the Patrick Swayze and Jennifer Grey impersonations last night. He was kind of relieved that it was Spike and not Angel. There was something about that vamp that was just plain wrong. Spike instead was more his kinda guy, not that he’d ever admit that out aloud as the ego on the guy was big enough as it was. Instead, he settled on bantering with the vampire and slowly accepting that he was not going anywhere and might actually be an asset for Buffy. Anything that kept Buffy alive and happy was a big check in the plus column. Not that it meant he couldn’t tease the hell out of them, Xander smirked. ‘They made a cute couple, though.’ Any shades of jealousy or envy had faded away recently. He had realised that Buffy only saw him as a Xander-shaped friend and not studly material, which had bummed him for a while. There had been several sessions of country music and moping, but then Willow had gotten bored with the pity-me sessions and curtly informed him that best friends lasted longer than boyfriends. With that he’d realised that a) Willow really was clever and b) that he could live with being around for a long time being a friend and big brother to Buffy. “Ohhh, I smell baked yumminess. Spike, dude, you coulda told me you were Martha Stewart’s baby brother!” “Oi, less of that Whelp, or I’ll spit in your juice. Or better yet, every time you have a cappuccino you’ll wonder just what sorta foamy goodness that is.” Spike made hacking noises, “would you like an extra shot of phlegm and snot with that, sir?” Buffy turned green. “That is so not necessary. You realise I’ll never be able to drink cappuccinos again.” She shuddered and wriggled away from Spike, exposing his erection in all its glory. “Oh…” Willow stood frozen in the doorway, her face nearly purple with embarrassment at the sight of happy Spike Jr. “Slayer! Bit of warning, luv,” Spike clapped his hands over his groin and leapt behind the breakfast bar. His ears turned a faint shade of pink, “Sorry, Red.” Ordinarily he’d love shocking innocents, before sucking the marrow out of their bones. But there was a childlike sweetness to the little redhead that kicked his long forgotten Victorian manners into overdrive. He was buggered and strangely not too worried, for once he was happy. ~~~~~~~ She was in hell. That was all it could be. He was laughing at her, mocking her. It was the worst thing she’d ever experienced in her entire life. She took a deep breath and tried to suppress the tears that were threatening to fall from her eyes. He was standing there stripped to the waist, dressed only in a pair of leather pants. His face was set in impassive lines, his eyes filled with a malicious glee and his mouth pouring venom. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Slowly, with each word, a part of her died. Leaving a hollow husk of a girl—she resembled nothing of the confident teen she was. She wrapped her arms around her stomach and stared up at him, her lips forming weak tear filled words that she hated herself for saying. “Was it me? Did I do something wrong?” ~~~~~~~~ Spike looked around the table, stunned at the easy cameradie and banter that flowed around him, extending to include him as well. Gone were the days when he was a lonely poet aching for love and friendship. Gone also were the days where he was still on the outside despite being one quarter of the Scourge of Europe. All the nights yearning for Dru when she was screwing her Daddy cross-eyed or out playing with her victims, he’d never fit in. Not until now, and the irony wasn’t lost on him. They should’ve been his enemies; the Slayer should be reaching for a stake, not the maple syrup and her friends. Well, she shouldn’t have them. He had learned over the centuries that a Slayer fought alone, not with this sort of backup. The same sort of backup that he had slowly become for her and despite himself, he liked it, fighting side by side with a warrioress who matched him in wits and fists. Chuckling briefly, he handed the elusive bottle to his fair maiden and then leant back to sip at his mug. The whole living from a baggie was something that he was still getting used to, but Angel had hooked him up with a good supply and he was slowly adjusting to the transition. “So what’re your plans for the day?” Before any of them could reply, there was a heart shattering scream. A scream of such volume that it felt like his eardrums might rupture. “Oh my god.” “What the hell was that?” “Buffy, what is going on?” They all clamoured to their feet and headed out in search of the poor girl whose screams filled the entire building with their horror and agony. “Jeez, it sounds like she’s being tortured,” Xander panted as he followed after Spike and Buffy down the stairs. The two supernatural blond’s feet pounded down the stairs, gleaming weapons in hand and unerringly heading in the direction of the heartrending voice that had besieged their peaceful breakfast. That had resulted in the mad scramble to save her. ~~~~~~~~ She was huddled in the corridor, curled up and rocking against the dank wall. Her shaking hands ran repeatedly over her shorn head, the anguished wails emitting from her mouth never diminishing. Her brown locks were haphazardly cut, some longer than others, but in other places her scalp shone through under the harsh florescent lighting. Spike sniffed the air, the scent of sex overwhelming his senses. He recognised the male seed that was drying between the girls thighs and shuddered. He’d smelt that often enough on the She-Bitch and his insane sire. “What the bloody hell has the git done?” he whispered to himself and then glared around the narrow corridor, wondering where he’d gone. “Hello?” Buffy cautiously approached the pitiful figure. Something about the girl was familiar. It was the clothes, and she’d seen someone wearing them last night at the Bronze. Her heart began to thump faster; Buffy glanced over at Spike and frowned. “It’s...” Before she could say anymore, Xander skidded around the corner, closely followed by Willow. Both their faces were pale with concern. Their clattering feet alerted the keening girl’s attention and she looked up through tear filled eyes. “My hair.” Cordelia held out her hands, the long strands lay in her palms. “He cut off my hair.” A/N soooo yup you all guessed right it was Angel and Cordy! And the soul has gone walkabout - now I know alot of you though no way would he lose it as it was only a one night stand but I was approaching it from the angle that he achieved perfect happiness as a result of being cared for and someone wanting to be with him and Angel found peace and perfect contentment as a result of that. Hence the build up with him being eager to have Spike around and how excited he was that there was someone there who was family. Hope everyone enjoyed the read and please make my day with some nice comments - thank you

Chapter #8 - Chapter Eight

Okay be warned there is some rather icky bits in here - which grossed out Megan - if you are easily upset by graphic descriptions of torture and death of little ones then PLEASE don't read! That being said I do hope everyone enjoys this chapter - have to say Cordelia kinda surprised me *g* It had been a hellish few weeks. Spike shifted slightly. He sighed and resumed the even methodical strokes. The blade gleamed in the light as he sharpened the stiletto dagger to a fine point, his focus only on its sharpness. All around him was movement: stakes being whittled by the whelp, Giles and Willow arguing a point of research, the clicking of keys on a keyboard and the soft murmur of Willow’s voice as she interrupted the Watcher, and finally the clatter of swords. Spike frowned at an imagined blemish on the cold steel, holding it up to the light and examining it carefully. It had to be perfect. He’d promised her it would be the sharpest dagger ever and that was one promise he intended to keep. She maybe a bitch but he liked her—unlike the others. He cocked his head and watched the two figures sparring. Well, maybe not all of them. He could sense a friendship building between his girl and her opponent. It was an ember, but he suspected that with time it would burn brightly. “Shift your weight onto the other foot and centre yourself.” Buffy’s voice was firm, brooking no debate from her opponent. “Good. That’s the way, now try again, swing and twist.” She grunted as she parried a blow and then spun and ducked as the sparring sword arched over her head. “That’s good! Do it again.” Spike tested the balance of the dagger; it stayed level. A glittering promise of destruction and pain, it tipped gently on his index finger as he twisted his wrist a little and the stiletto seesawed slightly. So absorbed in his weapon, Spike missed the giggle from Buffy and the clatter of swords as she put them away. “Cool! Is it ready?” A feminine hand snatched it away and flipped it into the air expertly. The finely manicured nails tapped along the blade as she examined it closely. “Looks good,” Cordelia nodded and flipped the dagger into the air again. “Oi, Miss Snatchy!” Spike’s hand snapped out and captured the contested dagger out of the air. “Nearly done, just bide you time.” “Sheesh, Mr Moodypants or what.” With a huff she turned and flopped down on the stairs leading to the stacks and mopped the back of her neck with a towel. She gave him a small grin, one that he returned. The two of them had what Spike suspected was a budding friendship, something he had never expected as a vampire. One quarter of the Scourge of Europe-- friends with a teenager. But it had happened. He knew where she was coming from, hell he’d experienced painfully the mental mind fucks Peaches was so good at. For that alone he had let her in; somehow he had ended up with Cordelia Chase as a friend. He liked her acerbic wit and sharp tongue. “Princess, I told you it’d be ready when I say so. You want to have it nice and sharp if you’re going to cut off the old man’s balls.” Spike polished the blade with a soft cloth. He chuckled at the gleam of pleasure that flittered across Cordelia’s eyes. “Like that idea, Princess?” “Spike, I told you not to encourage her.” Buffy flopped down next to him on the floor and frowned at him. Spike cocked his head and stared at the green-eyed sprite next to him. He still had moments of ‘what the fuck am I doing here?,’ but those were outweighed by moments when he had her lips on his and all thoughts fled south for the winter. And South was getting a bit blue from all the snogging and nothing more, but he was acutely aware the chit was young and he wasn’t prepared to go all Humbert Humbert on her. He could wait; well he hoped he could… “Spike, could you give us a hand please?” Giles’s voice brooked no debate. Spike mentally groaned, damming himself again for accidentally revealing he could read Latin. He’d glanced over a translation that the Watcher had been working on and had absently corrected the inaccuracies before he realised what he’d been doing. Now the old git was always calling on him for help. “Oh, lookat that. Watcher’s pet to the rescue,” Buffy teased. She deftly dodged the half-hearted swipe and giggled over her shoulder at Cordelia. The sombre brunette acknowledged the giggle but didn’t respond to it. Deep brown eyes fixed on the sharp dagger Spike had been working on for her. Sleek fingers tracing the edges over and over, her obsession with weapons was rapidly exceeding Giles’s and Buffy was beginning to wonder if Cordy was ever gonna come back from the trauma of Angel sex. Buffy stared at Cordelia’s bowed head; the pale skin at the nape of her neck was exposed and vulnerable looking as she bent down to re-lace her trainers. Her hair was now about an inch long all over, in some places shorter where Angelus had managed to cut close to the scalp. Cordy had spent hours in the salon getting her stylist to repair the damage and the only option had been to cut it short all over and add some highlights. Buffy had sat with her all the way through, their entwined fingers an offering of her silent comfort and support. The once over-confident and popular girl had for the first few days refused to go anywhere without Buffy; the terror of the night had scarred her for life. Buffy shivered. ‘If I hadn’t met Spike, that could’ve been me’. Guilt filled her for thinking that, reducing Cordelia’s agony into a ‘thank god it’s her, not me’ thought. She was a bad rude girl, to misquote Spike; she rubbed her stomach as the twinges of shame tightened it into knots. Buffy looked up at Cordelia and jumped slightly at the hardness in the former Queen C’s eyes. “What’s up, Buff?” Cordy asked. She was all too aware of the looks the others gave her and she was getting sick of it. The only reason she was here was to learn to fight and then she was going to kill that son of a bitch. He deserved to die slowly and screaming in pain for what he’d said and done to her that morning. The geeks that Buffy surrounded herself with were still losers in her book, but where once she’d have had fun torturing them, now she just ignored them. She knew what it was like to be a victim of a barbed tongue and somehow it wasn’t right to be a bitch to them anymore. Especially Buffy, who’d been an unexpected support and offered her friendship, something that-- despite all that had happened-- Cordy appreciated. “Nothing! Was just thinking.” Buffy blushed bright red and busied her hands with putting away the swords they had been using while mentally flagellating herself for thinking she’d had a lucky escape. “Yeah, right,” Cordelia mumbled. She knew all too well what Buffy was thinking. Hell, if situations were reversed she’d be thinking the same. Inadvertently her hands shot up to her shorn head and tugged on the spikey locks, as if trying to force them to grow. She hated that he’d gone for her hair. Somehow he’d know that she had loved her hair, and by hacking it off he’d done more damage to her than anyone had ever managed. She felt like her security blanket had been ripped away from her. Cordelia mentally shied away from the poisonous words that had dripped from his venomous tongue that morning, making her hate him even more. She blinked away the tears that welled at the horror of his words. She could hear him say that the fuck had been fun, but a pity that she’d not learned how to tighten her pussy muscles to ensure his pleasure even more, and then the look of glee on his face as he cocked his head and asked her exactly how many guys she’d opened her legs for? Adding that is was kinda lucky he was a vamp and not having to worry about STDs just compounded the chilling sickness she’d felt. Bile rose in her throat at the memory of those silky words. She knew she wasn’t a fresh faced virgin like Buffy, but she wasn’t a hobag. There had only been two guys before Angel and neither of them had said anything about her being too slack down there for them to feel anything. Insecurity struck her and she wondered if there was something wrong with her body. The contemptuous twist of his lips at the sight of her breasts that morning, had nearly killed her, the way he’d suggested surgery to rectify the sagging issue had filled her with anger and embarrassment. Ever since then she’d worn the firmest bras she could lay her hands on, making sure there was no movement and tightening the straps until they dug into her flesh, leaving red welts on her skin. . Angel had changed so much overnight; she had been so confused, waking up alone and cold. The feeling of smug satisfaction that she’d stolen Buffy’s crush away from her had melted away within moments of Angel’s return from the shower. Instead of some snuggles and her emerging victorious from his apartment as Queen C, he’d reduced her to a screaming mess – a victim. And for that he would suffer and die. For making her reliant on people that she’d never thought of as friends—needing their help and training, all so he would suffer and bleed. Willow and Xander were still losers, but one thing she’d learned on her climb to the top of the social tree in High School, use people to achieve your goals and then drop them once they were of no more use. So, she made nice with them so that Buffy would accept her more easily. Her parents had taught her well. She wondered if any of them even knew what she was planning. Giles she was sure knew, but she didn’t care, and Willow and Xander were clueless as ever. Spike for sure, he was too sharp, she couldn’t hide anything from him and by extension she had to include Buffy in that equation. They were as thick as thieves; the irony wasn’t lost on the tall brunette. There she’d been, feeling so smug that she’d scored with Buffy’s guy, when all along the hunk of salty goodness had been replaced with the British cutie, and it was more than obvious he had eyes for no one but Buffy. Cordy let a rueful smile paint over her lips at the idiocy that was her. If she hadn’t been set on making Buffy’s life miserable, then her own wouldn’t be hell-like now. Now all she was focused on was destroying the bastard who wore Angel’s face and hopefully surviving the confrontation. She knew she wasn’t as strong as Buffy or Spike, but was slowly learning enough to be able to handle herself. All she could hope for was that at the end of the day she survived and he didn’t. “Look, I really don’t think that will work.” Giles and Spike started bickering over an obscure text and the translation. Their voices pulled Cordelia from her maudlin reflections. “Right, I’m out of here.” Without waiting to hear anything from the Scoobies, she stalked out and came face to face with, “Harmony!” Cordelia sneered at her once time minion. “Ohhh, look, it’s uberdyke. Hey, lameo, found any new shops for that ‘oh so butch’ look you’ve got… umph…” “That felt good!” Cordelia exclaimed, shaking her hand. Her knuckles were bruised but the skin wasn’t broken, not like Harmony’s front teeth. “Oh bmy god, bat hurths,” Harmony wailed through the blood pouring out of her nose and mouth. Her hands shot up to cup her damaged nose and mouth, blood and chunks of her teeth gushing down the front of her knock-off Pravda dress, changing it from pink to red in seconds. “Hey!” one of her followers squeaked at Cordelia. The self-satisfied ex-cheerleader now stood smirking at the blood and massaging her fingers. Harmony’s only vocal friend stepped back at the cold look in her one time leader’s eyes. “Nothing, it’s okay,” she hastily muttered and ran off with the other Harmettes, leaving their leader alone and still haemorrhaging all over the hallway. “Harmony, look at me,” Cordelia ordered coldly, snapping her fingers in front of the blonde bimbo’s face. “That’s it, good girl,” she nodded approvingly. “Now listen to me very closely. From now on there will be no talking down to me or making with the snide comments, you got it?” Harmony quailed at the anger and malice dripping off her former friend’s voice. She realised too late that she’d pushed the wrong buttons and was now paying for it. All she could hope for was that her dad would fund a trip to the plastic surgeon, again. Her mouth and nose hurt too much for her to say anything so she just nodded. “Good girl now, run along home.” Cordelia imperiously waved her off and turned to leave, pausing for a brief moment to stick the proverbial knife in. “Hey, if you think about it, I’ve done you a huge favour, cos now your dad’ll have to pay for that new nose you were always bitching about.” She paused for a moment and considered the bleeding mess that was Harmony; a malicious smile curved her lips. “Have to say, anything’s an improvement on what your last surgeon puked up on your face.” With that Queen C took back her title and stalked out of the High School, leaving Harmony bleeding and crying in the empty hallway. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Come, come Angelus, you really must stop brooding.” The thickset vampire looked up from the dirt floor, his eyes narrowed at the sight of his Great Grandsire. He really loathed the bat-faced old bastard. But she was here and wherever she was, then so was he. What he never could figure out was why the hell the old bastard stuck to living underground? All those centuries he’d done it voluntarily and now, Angelus giggled, now he was stuck in the Hellmouth like a leather dressed vampire shaped cork. Serve the old bugger right, forcing Darla to choose between her childe and sire all those years ago. Flaunting his traditions in their faces when all Darla wanted was a view and a good screw, neither of which the old fart could offer. No wonder she’d chosen him back then and he was banking on her choosing him again, once he’d convinced her that he was unsouled and loving it! Hell, he knew Darla needed a guy in her bed, but this was pitiful, crawling back to her ‘daddy’ and dressing up in Catholic school girl outfits to get the old codger’s motor revving. Thank god he’d come to his senses and was able to save her from another few centuries of ‘hide the wrinkly weenie’ with her sire. He kicked the sack in front of him and smirked at the whimpers that erupted from it. If this didn’t get Darla back in his bed then nothing would. “I’m not brooding!” He really hated it when people said that. He really did wonder if it was the hairstyle that made vamps and people alike think he was brooding. He made a mental note to eat a stylist or two and get them to change his look. The Master’s red eyes filled with anger and he reached out and smacked the taller vampire across the face. “I maybe stuck here but that doesn’t mean you can be disrespectful. Remember your place, Childe.” He glared at the upstart. “Ohh, boys, stop fighting and play nice.” Her saccharine sweet voice belied the pure evil within her; Darla skipped down the incline and slithered to halt in front of her Master and her darling boy. Her short plaid skirt twirled as she spun on her heel and sniffed the air. “Angelus, is that what I think it is?” She pointed at the now writhing sack and clapped her hands in excitement. “Whatever it is, he won’t let me eat them. You would think he would remember that I am the Master and should be the recipient of gifts, not you,” the Elder Vampire muttered, ignoring the sharp angry glance Darla shot him. Angelus smirked. Score one for him, the old bastard was going to push Darla back into his bed and onto his cock at this rate. “Only the best for you, Darla.” He consciously lapsed into the thick Irish brogue of his human years, the same one that had enchanted her all those years ago. There was no harm in bringing out the big guns. He needed her to forgive him for the soul, not that it was really his fault; she was the one thing that could wipe the memory of the pathetic fumble in the dark with the cheerleader from Hell. God, he wanted to exfoliate till he bled. The pathetic gratitude that her comforting arms had evoked in his souled self had sickened him but it had achieved an end to the unloving hell of being ensouled. The silly girl had managed to cheer up Angel so much by paying attention to him and offering comfort that he’d gotten a happy and the soul was now taking a dirt nap. And for that she had to die; he was pissed off his mind games hadn’t worked so far. He was getting bored with killing her family and friends. He grinned, wondering when she was going to tell the Slayer that little gem. The mental torture he’d inflicted on Cordelia so far should’ve tipped her into loonsville; instead she’d hardened and withdrawn. She was no fun and he was hoping that if he won Darla back to his side then the two of them could play with the vacuous brunette for a while before killing her. She needed to die—soon. He didn’t want anything reminding him of how he came back and the sloppy screw that she had been was definitely not one to remember if he could help it! “Angelus, are they really for me?” Darla clapped her hands excitedly. Angelus looked down at the three tearstained faces peering up at him and shrugged casually. “I know how you like triplets and the fresher the better.” He looked down at the babies and laughed. “How ever did you find them? They are so rare!” she exclaimed and snatched up one small frail body. He screamed and kicked his little legs; the two year old boy shook his head and began to sob loudly. His blond curls matted on one side where he’d been curled up asleep in this crib.. “Only the best for you my, darling.” Angelus smirked over at the now fuming Master and bent down and gathered the two big eyed girls and cooed mockingly at them. He refrained from adding that all he’d had to do was break into the local hospital records and search there-- it’d taken minutes. But who was he to dissuade her from thinking he’d been walking the streets searching for the triple treat? If it got him back in her good books and between her legs, who was he to grumble? “I just don’t know where to start. Smallest one first or the boy, he just smells so delicious.” Darla giggled and caught hold of the sleep-matted curls and held him still. Her face morphed and her fangs glinted sharply in the firelight. “Oh my darling boy, you really do know how to spoil a girl,” she lisped girlishly as she ran her fangs over his soft fat cheek and lapped at the blood that welled from the teeny scratches. The childish screams lasted through the night as the vampiress and her newly returned consort rebonded in an orgy of blood and fucking that made the Master want to weep. ‘It’s not fair. She’s mine! I trained her to do that trick with her tongue and he gets the benefit?’ Her stamina for sex and death was truly outstanding, and yet again he’d lost her to the potato farmer’s son. As much as he enjoyed hearing the three little piggies squeal as his daughter sucked the marrow from their fingers and toes, he could’ve done without the visual of the great hairy arse of her childe bobbing up and down. . He really hated losing her – again. No one blew him better than his sweet Darla, not even the recently dusted Luke. ~~~~~~~~~~~ “Wake up.” She flicked the top of the bottle and sprayed holy water over what had once been her dad’s face. The sound of burning flesh filled the air, joining the screams that echoed through the cellar. The familiar features distorted as he vamped out in pain. Cordelia stared impassively at the demon’s tortured screams, the part of her that had cared for her parents had died the moment she’d staked her mom. Now all that was left was the thing that had taken over her daddy. She tapped her fingernails on the file she held and waited for him to stop howling. “Bitch, I should’ve forced your mother to abort you!” the demon snarled. Cordelia suppressed the agony that shot through her due to his hateful words and the growled at the beast wearing her father’s face. “Whatever. Now be a good vampy and sign these.” Cordelia held out a pen and waited for the chained vampire to take it. “Do it and I’ll let you have some blood.” She dropped the papers at his feet. It had taken the two weeks since Angelus had turned her parents to break him enough to agree to sign over all he owned, even the hidden accounts that the IRS would’ve loved to know about. Cordelia had liquidated those and put the cash into the safe in the study. This was the last set and then she could stake him and claim the estate for herself. With the money her parents had she would be in a secure financial position. No distractions for her hunting Angelus. “Here, you cold bitch, that’s the last of it. Now give me my bloo—” He was dust before he could even blink. “Thanks.” Cordelia stood and walked out without a backward glance. She managed to climb the stairs before she collapsed in a heap and began to sob. She was finally able to mourn her parents, finally able to let part of her feel again. It hurt so much, but it reminded her she was still alive and nearly ready to kill the bastard that was trying to drive her nuts. He would fail. Cordelia Chase was nothing if not strong. She would survive and succeed. Angelus was in for a world of hurt.

Chapter #9 - Chapter 9

In which we have some Spike and Xander bonding - and no not in a slashy way *g*. Also pay backs a bitch and some one is owed a serious amount of payback isn't he? Be warned cliffhanger at the end of the chapter. Hope everyone enjoys. Time definitely didn't fly when you weren't having fun. Buffy kicked a rock on the grass and muttered grumpily under her breath. Her patrol buddy for the night was not the one she wanted, no way was this one a scrumptiously shaped vampire who could kiss her until her eyes crossed and her toes curled. Nope, instead she was stuck with Cordy the Sarah Connor wannabe. Buffy sighed and wondered for the umpteenth time what Spike was doing. Giles had been all with the bad moody and said that she and Cordelia had to patrol so that the newbie could get some more fighting experience. Part of Buffy realised that this was a good thing. Angelus had been efficient in his tormenting of Cordelia, leaving toy surprises like dead cheerleaders all over campus and it was time for him to be dust in the wind. After she'd grudgingly agreed he'd then taken Spike aside and they'd had some muttered conversation which led to Spike's face dropping and then clouding with anger. Buffy frowned, wondering what the hell that had been about; Spike had lit out of the library as if his duster was on fire, closely followed by a puffing Xandershape. "Hsst, wake up," Cordelia's voice whispered across the moonlit cemetery. She waved her hand, gesturing for the preoccupied blonde to join her. "What's up?" Buffy slide down into a crouch next to the short-haired girl and peeped around the gravestone. Her eyes widened in surprise, "whoa, what the hell is that?" She eyed the lump of grey slime with trepidation; her shoes were new and so cute and not ready to be sacrificed to the altar of Slayerdom. "Dunno, but it's gross and slimy and I think we need to squish it!" Cordelia exclaimed and then leapt up with a banshee yell and did a series of flips over to the unsuspecting demon. Her agility and years of cheerleading practise gave her a gymnastic edge over the the original Scoobies who were also not blessed with the Slayer gene. Buffy had to admit that she was not a hindrance like Willow and Xander usually where; with Cordy she could trust her to fight without having to watch her all the time. Between herself, Spike and Giles the intensive training they'd given Cordelia was paying off. Now all they could hope was that the emotional damage would slowly heal. Though Buffy kinda doubted it'd be quick, the taller girl's admission earlier on about having to dust her parents combined with the absence of plastic surgeon bound Harmony for the last week all equalled meltdown in her book. 'But hey, Harmony kinda deserved the smack down and it isn't as if that was her real nose in the first place.' "Buffy, need a hand here," Cordelia grunted through punches and kicks with the endangered demon. With that Buffy pulled out the stake Spike had given her and pressed the release that she’d found on it releasing the silver stiletto blade thus winning her the stake off Spike. With a holler she leapt into the fray slicing and dicing as she went. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Are you sure?" "Look at it," Spike growled. "Don't wanna." Xander squeezed shut his eyes and shook his head. "Not good, I'll have nightmares." "Look you nit, shutting your eyes and shaking your noggin isn't going to make it all go away." Spike hit the teen on the back of the head with the leather bound book they'd 'liberated' from Angel's old flat. He hoped that the smack might actually knock some sense into the nit, he may like the boy but sometimes the pup just made him want to run screaming down Main Street tearing his peroxided hair out. The two of them had gone off at Giles’s behest to retrieve the small book that Spike had mentioned in passing earlier. The avid gleam in the Watcher's eyes signalling that the Codex might be significant had not been missed by the observant vampire. Spike rubbed his chin thoughtfully, up until recently he had thought that he'd read anything of significance about slayers. But he'd been wrong and now he was buggered. Spike castigated himself for not flicking through the cursed thing before mentioning it to Rupes. The two of them had done so and the prophecy they'd stumbled over wasn't good. It didn't bode well for Buffy. 'Well sod that, we'll find a way to cheat this effing hermit's wet dream.' Spike glared at the starkly painted walls of the abandoned room which was now being used to store the boxes of the recently unsouled vampire. Spike had been the one to reluctantly go and pack up the contents after making sure he was safe from home invasions from the Grand Poobah. Best way was by signing over the deeds of the building to an unsuspecting Slayer. He'd managed to circumvent the whole ‘having to be invited in’ by being inside the building whilst signing the papers. Spike grinned. Little did Buffy know she was now the proud owner of a substantial real estate portfolio. He made a mental note to make sure to tell her—someday. The sight of Angelus hammering on the invisible barrier later that night had taken the sting out of the entire procedure for Spike. But the capper for the evening was the water balloons filled with holy water that he and the whelp had launched on the git and his she-bitch, driving them both off cursing into the night. 'He loved the scent of burning vamp skin in the evening.' "Hey, enough with the smacking of the head. The brain cells are few and far between as it is and the less damage the better. I'm not like Giles who can afford to be knocked out over and over and still have the book smarts." Xander ducked and poked Spike in the ribs in self defence and inadvertently discovered the so-called Big Bad's secret weakness. "Oh my god, you're such a girl!" he exclaimed happily and proceeded to tickle the squirming vampire into a snickering puddle on the floor. "Leave off, this is serious." Spike hated that he'd lost serious cool points with the giggles and the wriggling. He also wondered at the sanity of the boy that after being presented with a written prophecy of the death of his friend. 'Wonder if his mum dropped him on the head often?' "Shhhh, come join me in the land of denial, it's a pretty place with nice happy views." Xander stood and offered a hand to pull Spike up. "Look, shiny lights." "We need to get this to Giles and get working on a solution to this." Spike tucked away the small tattered Pergamum Codex he'd found amongst the few books of poetry Angel pretended to read when he'd wanted to appear broody—but Spike now knew his real addiction. The piles of worn and dog eared Harlequin bodice rippers he'd found hidden under his grandsire's bed had given him away. "Yeah I know, but what can we do?" Xander's face darkened with determination. "We have to make sure this doesn't happen." Spike rocked on his heels and pondered the dilemma. "Let me think on it as we head back." "Good and maybe I might get inspired too." Xander stuffed his hands into his pockets and aimed a hard kick at one of the boxes, nodding in satisfaction at the sound of glass breaking. "Vandal." "Bloodsucker." "Utter git." "Stuck in a ‘80’s fashion rut." "Whelp with a Hawaii Five O fixation." "Slayer sniffer." "Xander, that's disgusting!" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "You know, there was a time when all this slime on your clothes would've lead to ‘ewww gross’ and me having to foot massive dry cleaning bills." Buffy sank down next to Cordelia who was lying flat on her back on top of the mausoleum they had climbed onto. "Yeah well, there was a time when I wasn't emotionally scarred and my parents weren't dust in my dustpan," she responded dryly. She ran her fingers through her short hair pointedly and then tucked her arms behind her head, fingers laced together. Buffy glanced hesitantly over at the silent girl and opened her mouth to say something and then snapped it shut. "Spill already, less with the guppy impersonations," Cordelia managed a small smile to take the sting out of her words. Of all of them, Buffy and Spike she considered friends and if Buffy had a question then far be it for her to be all Miss Avoidy. It was bad for her skin, all the repressing the others did. She'd wondered if Xander was deliberately pretending not to realise that Willow had the hots for him. Cordy had spotted that fairly early on and tried to get Willow to say something, but her people skills had never been of the good and they sure as hell were lacking since Angel had gone all Edward Scissorhands on her head and heart. The fumbled attempt to get Willow to share with Xander had led to tears from the redhead and a major headache for her. So now she ignored the two of them, it was easier. "Are you okay?" Buffy whispered, staring fixedly at her hands. "Getting better. Nothing like a kick in the teeth and a makeover from hell to give you new perspective on life." Cordelia sat up and crossed her legs and glared balefully at the slime that was crusting nicely on her cargo pants. "Look, I wouldn't be all care to share with anyone else but, well, with you or Spike it doesn't hurt to talk about this." She picked at some of the pale grey ooze and watched as it flaked off. She rubbed her fingers together as if testing the substance of the demon blood. "I hate him. I hate what he did to me and my parents – my friends. Sometimes when it gets really bad I wish it'd been anyone but me." She looked through her lashes at Buffy; the unspoken words, ‘rather you than me’ clung to the air around them. Buffy ducked her head and nodded, accepting that Cordy was only human and hell, she'd thought the exact same thing - well almost. "If it helps, I am sorry. Maybe if I hadn't known him or, you know—" Buffy didn't want to voice the suspicions that she and Spike had discussed. The ones where it made Cordelia seem even nastier, the ones where it was only because Angel had shown interest in Buffy that she'd taken him to bed. That was in the past and the ex-cheerleader was now her friend and Buffy knew that real friends were few and far between and were to be treasured and taken care of. Cordelia had made mistakes, all of them had, but that was in the past, and now they had to learn to deal and cope with the new changes in all their lives. "Yeah, well I guess then we'd all be very much different, but that's not what happened and now we get on with the dusting his ass and then we party." "Ohhh, a party and we weren't invited. Well that is just plain rude." A silky tone filled with malice interrupted the two girl’s bonding moment with chilling results. It was him and he'd brought a skanky friend. A slutty looking blonde vampire, that Spike had luckily filled them all in on: Angelus's sire Darla, the favourite of the Master. Buffy frowned down at the short woman, bad thoughts filling her head with ideas that she'd rather not entertain. 'Ewww, he was only stalking me cos I’m short and blonde, he was searching for a substitute for his sire.' Shaking the icky thoughts out of her head, Buffy rolled onto her knees, her eyes never leaving the newly reunited vamp couple. Buffy glanced over at Cordelia and rose smoothly; taking advantage of their position, she glared down her nose at Angelus and his momma from Hell. "What do you want?" She crossed her arms, making a show of the silver handled stake gripped calmly in her hands. Cordelia stood up and glared down at the vampire who'd humiliated her and turned her family into monsters she'd had to put down like rabid dogs. She was acutely conscious of her looks in comparison to the dainty blonde vampiress super-glued to his side and her vocal cords paralysed. "Eww, the Catholic school girl outfit is kinda erring on the side of gross, isn't it?" Buffy mocked. "What happened? You woke up one night and realised an entire generation had passed you by so you thought, ‘oh hey, I'll catch up by watching lame ass John Hughes films?’" "Shut up, you nasty little girl," Darla hissed through her fangs. Not even looking at Buffy, she focused on the girl her darling boy had taken to his bed; the Slayer was inconsequential at the moment. She was here for blood and it was the tall girl's she wanted to bathe in. She snarled at Cordelia, aching to rip her throat out and destroy the child who'd dared to sleep with her Angelus. "Awww, gonna cry?" Buffy mocked and casually flicked her stake in her hand, Spike's words from training earlier on echoing in her head. 'A Slayer must always reach for her weapon', then he'd gone all fangy and snarled and bounced around her like a Furbie on acid, teasing her that he already had his. It had stuck in her brain on repeat and now she was mentally thanking him. "Jeez, that's the best you can come up with, you freak in a kilt?" Cordelia's voice was strong and even as she pulled herself up to her full height and stared daggers at the two vampires. "Ohhh, has the little girl got her spine back?" Darla slithered around Angelus, trailing her hand over his broad back and chuckling lightly. "Was wondering if Angelus had hacked it out of you along with your hair?" she mocked cruelly and patted her blonde locks pointedly, saccharine venom dripping of each word. "Please, as if!" Cordelia reached into her jacket pocket and her fingers curled around the cool bottle she had tucked in there earlier. "As one night stands go, it didn't rate much on the Richter scale. Come on, from one girl unfortunately in the know to another, you gotta agree he hasn’t got much going on in the trouser department." She raised her free hand and pointedly wriggled her pinky finger. "Not that big actually…was a bit of a disappointment really." She set her chin firmly and dared Angelus to refute the truth. Before Darla could lie through her gnarled teeth, Angelus growled and launched himself at the mausoleum, a litany of curses and hissed threats falling from his mouth. Darla was close on his heels, howling angrily at the continued taunts about her fashion victim looks and how easily she must be satisfied with the weenie. They were stalled in their tracks by the shattering of glass on Angelus's forehead and the ominous hiss of flesh burning. "Paybacks a bitch and guess what? I'm one too," Cordelia yelled as she pulled another vial of holy water out of her pocket and threw it at Darla, hitting her square in the neck. She looked down impassively at Angelus, her face blank, not revealing her irreverent thoughts; 'Omg, what did I ever see in him? Those leather pants make his ass look huoooge!' Instead she focused on causing the maximum amount of damage she could. "I am going to kill you, little girl. Mark my words, it'll be painful and drawn out and you will suffer through hell before the end and will die begging for release," Angelus snarled, blinking through the smoke that was issuing from his burnt skin. "Yeah, you and what army, fat ass! From here it looks like you're going a whiter shade of pale with the pain this so called little girl has inflicted on you and hey, I've only just started, Peaches," she taunted. With each word her mental wounds healed, bring out a stronger and more determined aspect of her psyche. "Cordy, go you!" Buffy praised her as she crouched down to jump off the crypt and throw herself into the fray. "Wait, I have something else." The taller girl pulled out a plastic bottle and something else. She squirted the two growling vampires and then flicked a match and dropped it on their heads, igniting the lighter fluid she'd sprayed on them. A Spike special, one of many dirty tricks he’d taught them all despite Giles tutting in disapproval in the background. "Let ‘em burn." ~~~~~~~~~~~ “Does this read like I think it does?” Spike tapped the pages impatiently, his slim frame taut with tension. Behind him he could hear Xander shuffling worriedly from one foot to the other. Giles humphed under his breath and waved the tense vampire away and kept reading, the priceless volume of slayer lore cradled in his hands. “Ruddy ponce.” Spike flopped into one of the chairs and slammed his booted feet up on the library table; he patted his pockets searching for… “Don’t even think of lighting that,” Giles’s voice brooked no discussion. “He’s the same when I get the Twinkies out, eyes in the back of his head. You know me and Willow actually checked once, cos you never know here on the Hellmouth. It could happen.” Xander slumped down next to the bristling vampire and patted him on the elbow. “Here, try this. I got a pack for you incase Giles wigged.” Xander handed the pack of nicotine gum to Spike and slouched down in his chair, unconsciously mimicking his partner in book crime. Spike started at the innocuous pack of gum in surprise, then peeked at Xander from the corner of his eyes, subtly checking to see if it was a trick. Spike shook his head and opened the gift. He tossed a couple of sticks into his mouth and began chewing as loudly as he could. “Have you shown this to Buffy?” Giles muttered. “When? As Xander and I legged it back here? What, do you think we made a quick detour and popped in on the Slayer to frighten her to bits with a spine tingling prophecy predicting doom and gloom?” Spike managed to refrain from rolling his eyes and contented himself with cracking his knuckles. “Right…well…I think we need to think about this. Before we take any action.” Giles closed the tome gently and then leapt six foot in the air. Spike had moved in the blink of an eye, game face on and growling into his surprised visage. “I say…” “No you bloody well don’t.” Spike growled and reached over and lifted Giles from his feet by the lapels and gave him a good shake. Xander slipped behind Spike and offered silent support. “There will be no thinking about this before we do anything. First thing to do is to tell the Slayer and then we go and rip the old git’s dried up heart out and set fire to the rest of him.” “Well really, I don’t agree and I am her Watcher. Last thing we need is to put her off balance. Best to keep this quiet.” “What, until she’s dead?” Spike asked sarcastically. “Honestly, you lot take the biscuit. Your all too happy to throw your charges to the lions and sit back and nod and tut and say ‘oh dear, well it was predicted’. God forbid you actually try and do something to stop it – prophecies are mutable at the best of times, you great ninny.” Spike shook Giles again; the Watcher’s glasses went flying across the library floor. “No wonder slayers die young – if all they have for help is cowards like you lot.” “Yeah, what he said and also a ‘hey!’ for the secret keepage. Buffy needs to know about this. Otherwise it could lead to badness and tears,” Xander echoed though much less eloquently. “Needs to know what? Hey Giles, you dropped your glasses and Spike, put my watcher down.” Buffy’s voice was calm and level as she and Cordelia walked through the swing doors into the stress filled room. Anger and fangs melted off Spike’s face at her dulcet tones and he unceremoniously dropped Giles on his backside and slithered over to Buffy. “Hullo luv, you smell like fire and dust. Had a good night fighting things that go bump and all that?” He ghosted a kiss over her cheek and reached down and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Alright, Princess?” He glanced over at Cordy and grinned. “Cool, I set fire to Angelus and Darla the wonder ho! It was awesome,” Cordelia practically bounced over to Xander and Giles. “Why is Giles on his ass and what’s with the bad moodies?” “Slayer, pet – now don’t get your knickers in a knot over this, cos I promise I will do everything I can do to stop it and the only way it’ll happen will be over my dusted body.” Spike looked down at her, the fierce determination in his eyes calming her slightly and reassuring her she wasn’t alone in whatever he was talking about. Buffy shivered nervously. “Okaaaay, kinda scaring the untwisty panties off me here, so spill already.” “Will do but firstly, well done Princess with the Peaches and Slapper incineration, hope it hurt before they dusted?” Spike was stunned that the cheerleader had managed it, killing the worst two of his cadre. “Weeell, they’re not dusty…yet, but we got em good.” Cordelia pulled Giles up, patted him down and returned his glasses to the now flustered older man. Spike’s head snapped around and his eyes narrowed. “They’re not dust?” A chill ran down his spine. “Not good, all you’ve done is piss ‘em off even more,” he revealed as he chewed his lower lip worriedly. “They’ll be back for vengeance; we need to get to them before they get any of us.” “Spike, what the hell were you and Giles fighting about? Less with the voice of gloom over Angelus and Darla and more with telling of the story tothestartingtofreakoutBuffy, please.” Buffy’s voice swooped up into the high pitched frequency of anger and panic as she spoke. “Right,” Spike grimaced. He had tabled the Peaches problem. it wasn’t as important as his Slayer, and he turned Buffy to face him. He gripped her shoulders firmly, trying to calm her with his touch. He caught her eyes with his and stared down steadily and reassuringly. “Found a prophecy and well—” he grimaced not wanting to vocalise it. “It says that the Master will kill the Slayer and rise from the mouth of Hell,” Giles interjected, realising that it was down to him to tell his Slayer what her fate was. Once he’d listened to Spike’s ravings he realised that the vampire was right and that he was wrong. Years of watcher doctrine had flown out of the proverbial window and Giles had then accepted that Buffy was more than the Slayer – she was his friend and nearest thing to family he had. She needed to know – no, deserved to know, so he had bitten the bullet and spoken up, saving Spike the pain of telling her. He sighed and waited for the outburst from his usually voluble charge, but instead there was silence. Cordelia and Xander stood frozen in their places, staring worriedly at Buffy and Spike. Spike stood as still as an obsidian statue, focussed on Buffy to the detriment of the others. Buffy’s left hand fluttered up to her throat. The other reached for one of Spike’s and her mouth opened and a sigh escaped. Then she began to laugh, a strange low, forced laugh that was filled with desperation and fear. And then she spoke. “Oh.” After the busy day of posting yesterday I needs loads of commenty goodness please

Chapter #10 - Chapter 10

Be warned there is character death - well actually not too sad which one bites the dust here in my book *g* and there is some graphic descriptions of wounds! HUGE HUGS to all of you who have reviewed - thank you so much! Italics - thoughts Hugs to megan_peta for her betaing magick! She watched from the shadows, hating them all. She was sick and tired of being on the hunt for them and finding only him. Darla had better things to do than stalk a bunch of teenagers and some old tweedy man. But no, here she was lurking behind a dumpster, searching for the children who were due to die a slow and bloody death. Her hunt so far had led only to him – the others seemed to be less inclined to come out at night. Especially the one who’d dared to challenge them, the rotten slayerwannabe who had burnt them, scarring her face so badly that she doubted that even her sire’s grudgingly offered blood would heal it all up quickly. Her vanity was slowly chipping away at her confidence; even turning that hairdresser hadn’t helped. Most of her hair was gone and the damage to the tender skin of her scalp was extreme and would take a long time to heal. Darla’s fingers went to the wig she’d been forced to adopt to cover the ruination of her scalp. Instead they were drawn to the raised scars on her face. She gingerly touched them, running her fingertips over and over. Her looks were gone—burned off by that shaven headed slut, the same slut who would die slowly and screaming for relief. Darla sighed happily at the thought of what she planned for the brunette. Paybacks a bitch indeed, Darla snorted and amber chased through her eyes. Well once they finally managed to get a hold of the elusive teenager, the girl would learn only too well what Darla could do in recompense for the damage done to her and her childe. Darla’s mouth opened with a snarl, the action causing some of the less healed wounds to reopen and seep blood into her mouth. She was tired and ached all over, feeling faint from the loss the blood she had been feeding to her darling boy to heal him. Her Angel-faced Liam was in a far worse state than she was. He’d taken the brunt of the petrol burning. It had only been through her swift actions and knocking him into the commemorative fountain in the graveyard that had saved them both from dusting. It’d been close, but she’d saved them both. It had taken hours for them to crawl back to the Master’s lair, each supporting the other. The muted screams from Angelus still chilled her stolen blood; he’d been unrecognisable. His face was burned to a crisp, hair gone, scorched off in an instant. His looks destroyed by the flick of a flame. “I want him alive,” she growled at the insipid minion next to her. The small blonde licked her lips, trying to stop the blood from falling onto her chest. She was tired and in pain and wanted to go back to the lair. All she wanted to do was curl up around Angelus and sleep. But revenge was needed, especially if she was to regain any respect in the eyes of her family and The Master. ‘Bested by a little girl’, still echoed through her head as her sire had reluctantly fed her his blood. “Mistress? What do you want me to do then?” “Watch and learn,” Darla growled and then winced as one of her blisters burst on her cheek, puss oozing down her scarred face. “Give me a tissue!” She snapped her fingers impatiently. The minion handed her a slightly grubby handkerchief and bobbed her head, disgusted at the melted face of her sire but acutely aware that to say anything or even look repulsed would lead to a quick dusting. Darla dabbed carefully at the wound and with a hissed curse, tossed the stained scrap of fabric away. She hated the fact that Spike would bear witness to her fall from grace and power. “Mistress, maybe some aloe Vera for the wounds?” Before the minion could blink, her dust was settling on the ground. “Idiot! Why am I surrounded by idiots,” Darla snarled and then winced as another of the ridged wounds split open. She angrily wiped her sleeve across her mouth—smearing puss and blood over her face and clothes—and turned her attention back to Spike. The upstart idiot boy had been wrong from the moment Dru had sunk her insane fangs into his insipid neck. Darla melted back into the shadows as a random car pulled into the forecourt of the supermarket and managed to refrain from hissing at the peroxide menace. He would pay in blood and pain for associating himself with the Slayer and her minions. Darla was no fool; she had recognised the moves Cordelia had used – they were Spike’s and he was going to bleed for the insult he had given his family. No one turned on their own – well, no one but her. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ It hadn’t been a fun filled last two days, not since the discovery of the prophecy and Buffy’s so-called impending doom. Spike snorted derisively and lit a cigarette, as if he was going to let that happen. He’d informed her in no uncertain words that it was not written in stone and that if he could it’d be a prophecy that would be avoided come hell or high water. Her initial reaction, her forced laugh, had chilled him to the marrow and added to his determination that she would live. Sod the poofs who sat up in the clouds and dreamt up these prophecies – he was William the Bloody and she was his. Nothing was going to separate them – not if he had anything to do with it. He kicked his heels against the side of the car and as he lay back on the hood of his battered Desoto he stared up at the glimmering stars. One hand resting laxly on his muscled stomach, the other holding the burning cigarette that he was savouring with each long puff, his stomach growled at the scent of food wafting out of the open doors, plaguing him. He was on watch and bored to tears. He’d rather be with the Slayer fighting and having fun. Instead he was perched on the hood of his motor waiting for Buffy’s mum to finish her shopping. Spike grunted and sat up briefly; a smile curled his lips. He was proud as hell that Cordelia had managed to pre-empt Peaches and Grandmum, and burn them, but now all of them were targets – more so than before. At the moment all of them were on high alert, working in teams and never alone. It was the only way he and the Watcher could be sure that there wouldn’t be a sneak revenge attack. So far nothing had happened. He’d been asking around about the two crispy vampires and no one and not even the demonic elements of Sunnyhell had heard a peep about them. Spike figured they were licking each other’s wounds somewhere and that when they were ready, all hell would break loose. A blonde head appeared at the cash registers; ‘there she is’. Spike’s blue eyes narrowed as he watched Joyce unloading her purchases onto the conveyor belt. His shoulders twitched for a moment and then he scanned the surrounding area, family near or so he’d thought, it’d been only for a second so he wasn’t sure. It could’ve been one of Darla’s toys that she’d turned to replace Peaches, before he’d run back to mummy. He could pick up nothing, so he relaxed slightly. Whatever it was had gone and he refocused his attention on the pretty middle-aged woman he had been assigned to protect. It’d only taken one begging look from his slayer’s cute eyes and he’d agreed. He’d been shadowing the eldest Summers for about two hours, wondering if he should go and introduce himself. Somehow ‘hullo, my names Spike and I am your young daughter’s not so youthful admirer – boyfriend, you say? Why yes indeed’, didn’t sound quite right. He had mental images of being brained with an axe and kicked from one end of the street to the other by an over zealously protective mother. From the fragments of conversation he’d accidentally on purpose eavesdropped on, Buffy and her mum were good mates, as well as being family. Both of them sharing a lot, the divorce had bonded them closer together, but still the Slayer hadn’t come out to her mum, yet. He was determined that the two of them were going to have a nice natter about things that go bump in the night fairly soon, probably tonight if he got his way. It was too dangerous. Joyce was at a risk, carrying on oblivious when there were malevolent demons out their like his family—and all gunning for the Slayer, her relatives and friends. As proud of the cheerleader as he was for burning them, Spike wished she’d finished the job. This uneasy waiting for revenge was starting to make his fangs itch; he’d searched one end of the town to the other and found no evidence of the duo. Not a whiff of either of them and that was worrying. Spike puffed thoughtfully on his cigarette and then sat back up. Eyes closed and with a smirk on his lips, he scented the air, tilting his head in thought. There was a familiar fragrance and it made his cock twitch and wake up. It was her. His girl. The one and only. “Slayer.” He grinned impishly at the diminutive blonde who was standing between his legs, arms crossed and peering at him through her lashes. The tantalising fragrance of her incipient arousal made his mouth water and his pupils dilate. “Hullo, cutie.” “You were supposed to be watching my mom while Giles and I patrolled.” She pouted at him. She let her hands rest on his stomach, absently scratching her nails over the firm muscles and smirking at the growls of happiness that erupted from her vampire. ‘He was so cute when he went all grrrr from the strokage.’ Buffy blinked at her thoughts and whipped her hands away, tucking them behind her back with a blush. Spike huffed at the loss of contact but shuffled closer, one hand snagging hold of her and pulling her closer to him. Her warmth seeped into his body as she leant against him with a contented sigh. “Yeah and I am,” he drawled lazily as he gestured to the grocery store with his free hand. Point made, he then let it fall to her hip and pulled her even closer. “See, there she is, all nice and safe and paying her bill.” “Hmmm.” Buffy frowned at him, then relented under the sheer charisma of her vampire and gave him a sweet chocolate flavoured kiss. Her hands slid up his shoulders to caress his hair and loosen the curls she so adored. “Reeces, again? Better stock up, hadn’t I?” Spike dipped his head and licked her lips before slipping his tongue between them again. Pulling back for an unnecessary breath of air, he smirked at the glazed expression on his girl’s face. “See the Watcher’s still trying to bribe his way back into your good books.” “Well yeah, he sooooo owes me chocolately peanut goodness for the ‘ohhh, lets not tell Buffy about the mouldy old prophecy of doom.’” Buffy leant over and pecked Spike on the nose. “Doom? Buffy, I think you’re too young to be talking about doom,” Joyce’s voice interrupted the two blonds, who shot apart in surprise. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend, honey?” Buffy winced at the sugary sweet tone of her mother’s voice; it usually led to grounding and a conspicuous lack of pocket money. She turned on her heel and waved half heartedly. “Hi, mom.” Her face radiated worry; she so wanted her mom to like Spike. Spike’s hands dropped from Buffy’s waist and under the gimlet glare of her mother, he gently pushed the mute teen forward and slid off the hood of his car. Spike smoothly steered Buffy to his side and extended a hand to Joyce. Joyce eyed his hand suspiciously, and then hesitantly took it and gave it a firm shake. “Joyce Summers. And you are?” Her voice was arched and brooked no dispute. “William. William the…uhhh…” He could feel himself quail under the ‘don’t-mess-with-my-teenage-daughter-you-massive-perv’ look he was receiving from the older Summers. Part of him was wryly wondering where on earth his machismo had gone and whether or not he would ever recover his reputation after this humiliating incident of meeting the mother of your intended. His mind blanked for a moment. Intended was about right but he was a long way from tuxedos and posies, gods help him! He was once a feared master vampire and now he was sweating over first impressions? Gone were the days when he’d have solved this with a nice chomp to the neck and a riotous shag for pudding. Sodding manipulative vengeance demons and their so-called curses. Just because the same curse had been exactly what he had wanted all along – even if he hadn’t realised it at the time. He smirked, but he wasn’t about to admit that to Anya next time she appeared to check in on his progress. “Yes, William – do tell the nice lady you’re surname.” Darla’s saccharine voice broke the silence. “I’m sure she’ll be delighted to find out all about you, seeing as how you’re courting that.” A scarred hand appeared out of the shadows behind Joyce and pointed at Buffy with a dismissive flick before dropping on Joyce’s shoulder. Fingers dug in hard and bruised the woman. She winced and twisted under the hard grip trying to free herself. “Hi there, Mommy. Ready for a bite?” Spike growled at the sound of her voice and managed not to vamp out in front of Buffy’s mother. He didn’t think the Slayer would appreciate it if he frightened her mother into her grave with the flashing of his lumpies and fangs. He moved swiftly past Buffy, ready to defend her mother against the hell bitch. “Jesus!” Joyce dropped her bags of groceries and before anyone could blink she’d whirled and grabbed Darla and thrown her over her shoulder and into a pile of crates by the dumpster where the vampire had earlier been hiding. “Mom!” Buffy leapt forward to help shocked at the way her mother had moved so fast and managed to grasp and toss the skank in such a smooth move. Joyce turned back to face her daughter, her chest heaving with the effort of tossing Darla, and reached for her daughter. “Are you okay?” They both echoed each other. Neither noticed the comical death of one quarter of the Scourge of Europe. They wrapped their arms around each other, Buffy relying on Spike to stand guard while she checked her mom was okay. Darla had fallen awkwardly; landing on some broken pallets that the Supermarket had dumped for collection. A piece of wood had pierced her chest when she’d landed. She had looked down and giggled at the sight of the wood pushed through her chest. ‘Just missed the heart.’ Darla thought, thanking whatever deity watched over vampires. She glared over at the mother of the Slayer. “How dare you, don’t you know who I am?” Darla snarled and lunged forward. So intent on her prey as she pushed downwards that her hands slipped in the garbage and she fell backwards. Dusting herself. And she died. Her passing was completely unnoticed by the mortal who’d dusted her, the same one that was still unaware of the things that went bump in the night. The same human woman who had killed Darla so easily, it had been laughable, an ignominious end for a feral demoness who had once preyed on the weak in dark places such as this. Spike heard the faint shriek and the settling of dust and he peered over to where Darla had fallen and blinked in shock.. “Bloody hell,” he whispered under his breath and bent down to run a finger through the dust, all that remained of one of the most vicious vampires in recorded history. One was felled by a housewife in a dark smelly car park, in the middle of a small town in California. Hardly an auspicious end to the once favoured childe of the Master of the Aurelian clan; she certainly hadn’t gone out in a blaze of glory. His lips quirked into a smile, ‘death by rubbish…how fitting.’ “Where did she go?” Joyce had turned and was staring puzzled at the ground. Buffy had an arm wrapped around her mother’s waist and she was frowning down at Spike, her eyes filled with questions. “She must’ve run off. Probably didn’t expect her mark to kick her arse like that.” Spike dusted his hands and stood. He extended his hand again. “As I was saying, my name is William. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” Joyce took his hand and shook it, arching a brow at the vampire for his cursing – he ducked his head sheepishly and gave her an apologetic smile. “Mom, where did you learn to do that?” Buffy asked in shock. Joyce shrugged. “Oh that, honey. That was nothing.” She knelt down and began to pick up random grocery items that had been knocked out of the bags during the scuffle. Spike squatted down and began to help; he gave her a sheepish smile and ducked his head. Joyce tried to look cross but the inherent charm in the young man helping her won her over, despite the black outfit and what looked suspiciously like black nail polish on his fingernails. “Thank you.” She straightened as Spike took hold of her shopping and stood waiting. “Moooom.” Buffy poked her mother in the side. “Make with the explainy.” “Oh the self defence. Well it’s the strangest thing.” Joyce took Buffy’s hand and squeezed it. “Let me fill you in at home. You are coming, William?” Her tone brooked no objections as she headed for her Jeep. “You can follow us back, and William, don’t dawdle. There are two pints of ice cream in there.” “Pish Food?” Spike asked hopefully. Buffy had introduced him to the flavour and he couldn’t get enough of it now. He couldn’t work out what was better, the chocolate fish or the marshmallow, all of it was even better when it was spoon fed to him by the blonde minx curled against her mum’s side. Spike shook his head, trying to refocus on less lusty thoughts. It wouldn’t bode well for his case if he presented a massive bulge in his jeans for the mother of his sweetheart to view. He shifted his hips to make sure that the duster covered him. “There may be. But only once we’ve had a nice long talk.” She pinned him with an uncompromising look which only softened when Spike gave her a boyish smile. With that the three of them left the car park and Darla’s dusty remains. Unnoticed, and very much forgotten. ~~~~~~~~~ “Nooooo.” Nest sank to his knees as he clawed the rocky ground under him. “My Darla!” He felt her death keenly as the wood had pierced her heart and stolen her away from him for all eternity. One hand scrabbled at his heart as the bat-faced vampire rolled in the dust, howling out his anger and pain. He’d lost not one, but two of his favoured childer, and now all he had were minions and the burnt offering that was keening in the cave off to his left. “Go and find out what happened now!” He pointed at the tallest of his minions and then dragged himself over to the wooden throne he’d adopted as his own. He sank into it with a moan, his shoulders heaving as he tried to contain his anger and pain. “Master?” “Why are you still here?” “Where am I going? What happened?” the minion stuttered and swiftly moved out of range of the angry and grieving vampire. A grief-ravaged Nest roared at him to go and find out what had happened to Darla and to return with her ashes and not to come back until then. “Darla!” Angelus staggered out of the cave he had been resting in. The others recoiled at the sight of his charred face, open sores covering every inch of visible skin. His lips were burned off and the skin around lined and pitted with weeping wounds. His hair was gone; all that remained was freshly healing skin, red and sore and shiny. The growling vampire was dressed in a loose fitting pair of sweat pants and nothing else. His shoulders and chest were too wounded to cope with the friction of cotton. He was coated in healing creams and not a pretty sight at all. Angelus had been close to dusting and it had only been because Darla had managed to knock them both into the algae filled fountain saving them both. But now he was alone-- she was gone. “You!” The Master stormed over to the charred remains of Angelus. “It’s your fault, you twisted freak!” he spat angrily as he grabbed hold of Angelus by the throat and lifted him over his head. “From the moment she brought you into my home, I knew you were trouble. Your arrogance and lack of respect for the old ways – but she was too caught up in your looks and riding your cock. She chose you over me! Her sire! You insolent whelp.” All the while he shook Angelus like a terrier with a rat. The irony was lost on him when he’d called Angelus a twisted freak; he was too caught up in his ire and loss. “Let me go,” Angelus wheezed, his hands scrabbling at the Master’s wrist. Weakened by his injuries and aching loss, he was much too weak to break free the implacable grip of the clawed hand of his Elder. The bald scarred vampire hung limply, his toes a good foot from the ground. “Ohhh, I’ll let you go, you pathetic excuse for a vampire. If it wasn’t for your games with your victims, my Darla would still be here. But no, you always have to play with your food after fucking them. You disgust me.” The enraged Master shook Angelus again, taking pleasure in the groans of pain that escaped the lipless vampire. Without another word, the Master stalked over to the storm drain that served as the entrance to his prison. A bluish light erupted in the underground prison, the ever-present barrier stopping him from going further. He hurled Angelus through the large circular opening. “Get out and don’t come back. You are banished from the clan,” the Master sneered, the tone in his voice brooking no argument. He snarled and spat at Angelus all the while leaning against the mystical barrier that kept him imprisoned from the outside world. “No one will want you now – not once word spreads. Get out and never return.” Angelus hit the brick wall and slithered down onto his knees. Disoriented he pulled himself up and stared at his tormentor in shock. He’d never been one for the family allegiance, probably something left over from his mortal life, but to be cast out? This new banishment hurt him on a level he had never expected. He was truly alone in the world, again. On top of losing his sire – it was too much and something snapped inside of him. He started to laugh manically as reason abandoned him, then his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out. “Get him out of my sight; toss his useless backside onto the next train that is leaving town. I want him gone NOW!” The Master roared at his minions and then turned his back on the slumped form of a once proud master vampire – who currently looked more like a well done joint of meat. “Don’t dust him. I want him to suffer the humiliation of his banishment,” he added, perversely pleased with himself. There was a rush of footsteps as two of the braver minions leapt to obey their imprisoned Master’s orders. Angelus was dragged off without another word. “Bring me something to eat. I want something innocent, young and fresh.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Spike, come in,” Buffy whispered as she hustled her vampire into her home. She blushed, realising that this was the first time he’d ever come over to her place. They had spent most of their time at his apartment or patrolling. She felt bad and wondered if he had a complex about not being invited over. Spike was oblivious to her worries; instead he was enchanted with the homely quality of the place. Warmth filled him as he followed Joyce into the kitchen, carrying her bags. The whole place was filled with security and contentment. It was a home. Lovingly created by the impressive woman he was currently unpacking groceries for. “You have a lovely home, mum.” He ducked his head and began to fill the refrigerator with the food he held in his hands. Buffy leant against the doorframe, her mouth open in shock at the politeness that was her boyfriend and the way he was so chilled out being Mr Helpful to her mom. “Thank you, William.” Joyce’s warm eyes twinkled at the cheekiness of his nickname for her, but she refrained from saying anything. She could feel the nerves and electricity sparking off the two of them; it reminded her of when she had been young and had met her first love. Joyce sighed, realising that nothing she said or did would change the path that Buffy had picked. All she could do was be there for her and help as best she could. This young man was different to her daughter’s other flirtations in LA and much better than the weird brunette she’d spotted following Buffy a few times since they’d moved. Somehow Joyce knew that this boyfriend battle wouldn’t be won, and instinctively she realised that there was more to him that leather and nail varnish. Also Joyce could see how taken her daughter was with the slightly older man and he was just as smitten with Buffy. Part of her quailed at even considering trying to part them. She knew that she would be the one alone at the end of it – if that ever came to pass. Nope, Joyce was no fool and she chose to fight her battles one at a time. Buffy and William were something she doubted she could influence much, but she would do her best to protect her daughter and help her through whatever relationship she had chosen to follow with the handsome man now leaning against her counter. ‘But if he even thinks of sleeping with my baby until she is older and ready for that sort of commitment, I will cut it off with an axe.’ Spike gulped at the fierce look Joyce directed first at his eyes and then his crotch. ‘Message received.’ He cautiously thrust his hands in his duster pockets and closed it protectively over his vulnerable bits. “So Mom, you were gonna tell us about the Xena moves. Spill already.” Joyce hustled around the kitchen, pulling out bowls, scooping out ice cream and handing them out to the two blonds now sitting on the other side of her breakfast bar. “Well it was the oddest thing. About a day after we moved here, this very nice Englishman came into the gallery.” Joyce swallowed a spoon full of her frozen treat, ignoring the questioning looks from her daughter and her beau. “He stayed for a while, even bought this cute little bronze statue of Shiva I had in. We had a nice cup of tea and talked for ages. When he was leaving he said the oddest thing.” “Yeah, what did he say?” Buffy leant forward, her eyes intent on her mother. Spike was equally intrigued but already suspected what Joyce was about to say. And if he were right then he owed the Watcher a bottle of Whiskey, an expensive one at that. “He said, and honey it was so weird. He said that he hoped I would enjoy the town and that if I wanted to get on here safely and happily that I should go and join some clubs, meet people and learn to look after myself. With that he handed me a flyer for the self defence groups at the Y with the times circled and then gave me the fiercest look and said not to let myself or you down and left with his Shiva.” “Huh!” Buffy sank back in her seat. “So I figured, why not? I joined the book club and also the self-defence one as well. I must drop him a thank you note.” Joyce frowned. “I guess he saved my life, didn’t he?” “Sounds like. Did you get the old sod’s name?” Spike asked. “Yes, of course. R. Giles – I wonder if he was called Randy?” Joyce giggled and shook her head dismissively. “No, it was Rupert – that was it, such a handsome and nice man.” “What?” Buffy squeaked. ‘Ewww to handsome and nice, cos Giles is waaaay to old and mom ick for the giggling. And go Giles with the Mom helping. I owe him big time. Damn, no more pouting over prophecy hidage...’ ~~~~~~~~~~~~ His body hit the wooden wall and slid down as the two minions threw him into the train and slammed the door shut. Their cackles of laughter filling the night air, Angelus tried not to scream in pain but failed – instead a small whimper escaped his cracked and bleeding lips. He’d scream later, when the pain was just a dull roar. Angelus rolled onto his back, his eyes opening slightly as consciousness tickled at the edges of his mind. Ignoring the pain in his body, he took a breath and gagged at the stench of stale cow urine. He rolled his head and his nose hit a fresh warm cow pat. He sighed, the bastards had thrown him into a cattle compartment. “I’ll kill you all – all of you will burn and die for what you’ve done,” he whispered painfully before passing out. The train powered up and began to move, heading South towards Mexico.

Chapter #11 - Chapter 11

“Are you sure she’s dusted?” Giles peered over the top of his spectacles, his face a picture of shock and confusion. Buffy folded her arms over her chest and nodded empathically. “Uh huh, oh and FYI I am soooo in love with you in a totally non-boyfriendy way.” She reached over and hugged her startled Watcher; her face mashed against his tweedy lapel. “You saved my mom!” “Buffy…ribs,” Giles wheezed as he heard an ominous creak from his chest area. He gasped when she let go and patted him on the chest reassuringly. “Would you care to explain yourself?” He stepped back and plopped down on his desk chair. Buffy and Spike had appeared about five minutes ago and the girl was obviously under the influence of some sort of narcotics, babbling about her mother dusting Darla and then declaring her love for him. He’d had guidance in this area and knew exactly what to do to deflect the amorous attentions of his Slayer. It was covered in his Watchers training; apparently the young women often became enraptured by their older mentors. So finally something had been included into the Watcher’s training to help them deflect the love without being injured by jilted enraged Slayers. “She said in a non boyfriend way, Rupes.” Spike quirked his scarred brow, effectively deflating Giles’s ruminations in one sentence. Buffy wrinkled her nose and pouted becomingly at Spike. “Eww, how could you say that? Giles so knows I wasn’t macking on him…” She trailed off at the faint blush on her Watcher cheeks. “Ewww, Giles!” Giles cleared his throat. “Right, so you were saying about Darla?” he prompted as he changed the subject as best he could before he died of mortification. Buffy reached over and snagged the small bronze statue on the shelf above his desk. “Nice Shiva. Where did you get it?” She raised her fair brows expectantly. “Well…umm, right, I errrr…” he tried to dissemble, but realised that his subterfuge was in vain. He had only gone to see what the woman was like, but on meeting the charming Mrs Summers he had realised that something had to be done. Something said to protect the sunny woman. His peers would’ve condemned him for being soft and not focused on his job. But he had bitten the bullet and as cautiously as he could have, he’d suggested some courses in self-defence, handing over a dog eared pamphlet he’d picked up for himself. “Chill, Giles. All I wanted to say was go you with the self defence advice, and thank you.” Buffy gave him back the small statue and patted his forearm in thanks. “You saved my mom’s life, so no matter what has happened before, like let’s say…oh, any prophecies that you felt Buffy shouldn’t know about, all is forgiven and forgotten.” She leant over and straightened his glasses and smiled brightly at the flustered man. “Here you go, Watcher. Pressie from me for the good advice. Bet it wasn’t in the Watcher’s handbook, Sage advice to Slayer’s mum and all that.” Spike handed a red square box over to the befuddled man with a nod of thanks. Giles blinked at the heavy box that he’d automatically taken and opened. “I say, this is a bit generous. Remy Martin Louis 13th Cognac! Spike, what can I say—” “Cheers would be a good thing.” Spike leant back on the battered couch and let out a bone deep sigh. “As for the old slapper, she is good and dusted, not a smidge of her left except maybe here.” He lifted a doc-clad foot and waved it around for a moment before dropping it back down on to the linoleum floor. Giles carefully placed the precious box on his cluttered desk and clasped his hands together. “Could you elaborate?” “Mom dusted her. She was like ‘wham’ and flipped the ho over her shoulder. I missed the dustage but Spike heard the splat and poof. Mom wasted Darla!” Buffy bounced on the couch, jostling a dozing Spike. “All cos of you, making with the sneaky and getting Mom to go do some fighty training – you saved her!” Giles held up his hands defensively when he saw Buffy was about to leap up and crush his ribcage again. She was stopped by a firm hand grabbing her waistband and pulling her back against his willing side. Spike grunted happily at the sensation of her warm body against his and dropped his head on top of hers. “So your mother knows about vampires now?” Concern filled him, part of him relieved that the nice woman was now safer for knowing and another part saddened that her innocence was gone. “Nope, Mom is as clueless as ever. She had her back to dusty Darla and thinks that she was a mugger who ran away.” “Ahh.” Giles looked over at Spike. He wanted to rip the slumbering vampire off his Slayer, but he managed to stop himself. There was more to worry about than the burgeoning romance between his ward and the vampire. It wasn’t as if this was a unique case; Slayers were as a rule drawn to those that they hunted, albeit not usually vampires. There were recorded cases of slayers involved with all manner of supernatural beings – including one startling report of a ghost and a slayer, and their unrequited love. All very heartbreaking, that last case. But a slayer and a vampire? Now that was a new one on him and he imagined all the Watchers. This was a first, but somehow it seemed to make sense with these two. They were so similar in temperament that it boggled his mind sometimes. “Well I am glad I was of some assistance and that she listened to my advice.” Buffy giggled again. “What kills me is the sneakiness that is you with the pretend shopping and then the casual, ‘oh by the why, go learn to kick ass or you may not see the sunrise again’ commenty.” “Well, it’s not standard practise to approach the Slayer’s family. But—” “But you’re not a regular Watcher, are you, mate?” Spike rumbled sleepily. Giles’s tried not to do a rabbit in headlights impersonation but failed miserably. “Been doing a bit of checking up on you mate. Seems like you’ve had a colourful past, Ripper.” Spike smirked at the all over body twitch that nearly knocked Giles out of his tweed suit. “Ripper!” he exclaimed. “Ripper?” Buffy’s nose crinkled as she tried to compare the fuddy duddy sitting in front of her to the image the name Spike had drawled evoked. She shook her head. “Nope, I can’t see it.” “Love, when you get a chance, have a snoop in his desk – some interesting piccies in there,” Spike whispered softly, so quietly that Giles had missed the exchange. Before any of them could say anymore, the library doors slammed open and cursing filled the air. So blue that even Spike sat up to fully appreciate the colourful invectives that Cordelia was bellowing. She was learning so much from him; it filled him with a glow of fraternal pride. “Rat bastard, son of a bitch, needle-dicked mensch…” she ranted, then stepped into the office, crossed her arms and glared at all of them. Xander and Willow rushed up behind her, their faces flushed from exertion and embarrassment. “Cordy!” Buffy’s jaw dropped. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Kiddies present.” Cordelia glared over at Willow and Xander. “It’s not like I encouraged them to follow me round.” “Hey!” Willow flipped her long hair over her shoulder and tried to give Cordelia a dirty look, but chickened out. The fear of Queen C was too ingrained in her to really stand up to the seething crop-haired brunette. Xander waved a hand and gasped for breath. “Yeah. What she said and also—” He kicked Cordelia in the shins. She reached over and smacked him on the back of the head and then turned back to Buffy, Spike and the spluttering Giles. The latter ‘humphed’ at the girl and then shook his head at her antics. “Keep your thong on, pet,” Spike grinned at his fuming protégée. “What the hell it going on.” “Willy,” she grumped and nudged Buffy up and flopped down on the now overcrowded sofa. Buffy did the only sensible thing she could do and crawled onto Spike’s receptive lap and snuggled back against his chest. She managed to repress the happy sigh and focused on Cordelia. “I say, what have you been doing?” Giles leant over to examine Cordelia for injuries. “I have told you repeatedly you are too young to be frequenting that dive.” He whipped off his specs and laid them on the desk and massaged his temples. “I blame you, Spike. I wish you hadn’t taken them in there. It’s just so—” he trailed off. “Seedy?” Xander suggested. “Dirty and filled with demons?” Willow squeaked. She was still in shock at seeing a R’ah Ateh demon drink with his dangly bits earlier in the evening. In her book that was just plain gross. Trousers should be kept zipped in public places as far as she was concerned. “Bloody good place for a brawl and a hand of poker?” Spike added unhelpfully with an unrepententant grin on his lips. He had snuck his arms around Buffy’s waist and hitched his chin on her shoulder so he could see everyone. He was a happy vamp in more ways than one—a lapful of warm receptive Slayer and one whose mum seemed to like him. He still couldn’t believe the ‘meet the family’ situation had gone so smoothly. He did wonder where the Williamesque behaviour had erupted from, but it seemed to have done the trick, especially if you counted the cocoa and marshmallows. “A good place to get info on the latest Big Ick to roll into town?” Buffy giggled at the look of utter despair on Giles’s face. “Come on, Giles. You know that it’s too late, we’ve all been there.” “So it would seem.” Giles managed to refrain from reacting to their teasing. Instead he put his glasses back on and eyed the bottle of cognac longingly. He desperately needed a drink. Tonight was shaping up to be rather eventful: Darla was gone which was wonderful news, Mrs Summers had appeared to take his advice and had revealed that she was able to take care of herself – which was excellent news. Also to his surprise it appeared that Buffy’s mother had not had a meltdown over Spike being in her daughter’s life. If she had he imagined that by now Buffy would’ve complained about it. But she hadn’t. All of this was a relief, but he had a feeling that Cordelia was about to rain on his parade. “I beat some information outta Willy.” “You try that trick with the roll of pennies?” Spike asked idly. He winced when Buffy pinched his forearm. “What’s that for?” She arched a brow at him and shook her head. She didn’t want Giles to cry again. The last time Spike had shown her a dirty trick with a knuckle duster she’d been positive that there were tears in her Watcher’s eyes. Cordelia nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah and check it out, not too much damage – well for me.” “Now really, Cordelia, that is out of order. He is a human and easily damaged,” Giles protested, shocked to the core at her casual attitude. “So? He deals with demons—evil demons that eat the locals. Anything he gets he deserves and if I can shake out information from him, then I will.” Cordelia crossed her arms and ignored the spluttering librarian. Willow and Xander stood awkwardly in the doorway, feeling a bit left out and unsure. “Well,” Giles hesitated, realising he was fighting a losing battle with the recalcitrant girl. “So what was the information that got you so cross?” “Angelus has gone,” Cordelia snarled angrily, disappointment and frustration colouring her face and voice. She crossed her arms and frowned down at her boots, her thoughts miles away. “What?” Buffy leaned forward, her jaw nearly hitting her knees. “Gone as in poof?” She wiggled her fingers. “Dustville?” she asked hopefully. Part of her was thanking the gods as she didn’t want Cordelia having to face the nutbag again. “No. As in two minions tattled to Willy, who may I add are now dustville, that they apparently dumped his charred ass on a train full of cows after the Master had kicked him outta the fam. Can that be done?” She directed the question at Giles as Spike was howling with laughter at the news and was of no use to anyone. “Well I would have to check my books. Willow, would you mind helping me with researching that?” Giles smiled gently at the shy redhead who nodded enthusiastically, pleased to be asked and also thrilled to be able to help. “I imagine there is something in there about rituals and vampiric families.” He rolled his eyes at the snickering vampire on the couch. “It would appear that Spike will not be of any help for a while.” Buffy grunted as Spike squeezed her hard and tried to wriggle free. She froze in place when something got very happy to meet her and pressed up against her ass. She held her breath, realising she couldn’t move off otherwise everyone would see a very happy Spike Junior. “Spike,” she hissed and reached down to pinch his thigh and then stopped herself, getting too close to that was sooo not a way to deflate it! “Yeah, sorry.” He wiped the tears from his eyes. The news of Peaches’ fall from grace was just…well, plain neat to coin an Americanism. “Yeah, it can be done and damn if it couldn’t have happened to vamp more deserving. Loses his mum and gets the boot right good. Have to say this has made me the happiest bloke on the Hellmouth!” He lapsed into giggles and muttered under his breath about how the mighty had fallen. “So what does this mean?” Buffy and Xander echoed each other. “It means we have two master vampires out of the equation and that is exceptionally good news.” Giles leant back in his chair, lacing his finger as he tipped his head back to consider their next move. “I imagine that the Master has a few minions around him?” He directed this question to Spike who was still snickering, his blue eyes bright with delight at the humiliation of his nemesis. “Yeah, the old git liked to have a few around. Might be worth having a snoop around and doing a head count.” Spike and Giles exchanged a grim look. “I’ll get on to that in the morning when the old fart’ll be kipping, less likely to be spotted that way.” He knew that the elder vampire would more likely sense them if he was awake, so by going during the day when he was sleeping it’d be easier to sneak around and get out before being spotted. He and Buffy had recently discovered the area surrounding where the Master was incarcerated, finally locating him using a combination of his tracking skills and her memories of where the long dusted Jesse had lured Xander and her to. It had been made easier by Buffy starting off from the crypt where she’d bumped into Angel for the second time. Spike mentally shook his head. That had been only a few months ago and so much had changed. Buffy tensed on his lap, all too aware that they were thinking about the prophecy. She shivered. She really didn’t want to die, she was too young and also she’d only just found Spike. There was no way she was leaving him behind. A firm hand ran down her back, soothing her. “None of that, pet. I promised it’d be alright and you know I never break my promises.” What surprised her was the tentative hand that landed on her knee; Cordelia squeezed her leg gently and gave her a nod. Buffy glanced over at her and tried to smile but her nerves and fear got the better of her. “I’ve got your back too, Buffy.” Cordelia patted Buffy’s leg reassuringly. All anger over missing her chance at torturing and staking Angelus dissipated at the look of fear of the blonde huddled on Spike’s lap. “We all have, Buffster.” Xander nodded as Willow and Giles seconded him. Buffy took a shaky breath and let out a strangled laugh. “Kinda lame, aren’t I? But thanks, you guys. You really are the best.” “I’ll need you to show me again where you and the whelp found your mate that time. I think that was close to the Master’s lair – should be able to sniff my way back from there. Need to pin point his lair this time and not just the general area,” Spike listed as he changed to subject. He was making sure she had something to focus on rather than impending death – not that he was letting that happen. “Jesse?” Willow’s face filled with sadness at the memory of her nearly forgotten friend. Xander cleared his throat and looked down at his battered sneakers. Buffy felt the guilt that his name evoked in her fill her again; he was her first failure on the Hellmouth and it smarted something bad. But score one for the good guys with Darla dustage. Revenge was sweet and now Jesse could rest in peace knowing his sire was in dusty pieces. “Right, so that seems to be all we can do for tonight. Buffy, I will write you a note to excuse you from school tomorrow so you can assist Spike. The rest of you off to bed and come and see me at lunch time and we can plot strategy. Cordelia, as a favour to me, could please refrain from hitting anyone tomorrow. I need you around and not in detention.” Slowly the teens filed out, calling goodnights over their shoulders and leaving Spike, Buffy and Giles standing in the cramped room. Cordelia hesitated at the door, wanting to stay with Buffy to offer some support. The taller girl realised that it was pretty much the pits having some mouldy book tell you the date of your imminent death, so she decided to linger by the counter and go back to Spike’s apartment with them. “Buffy, I am glad your mother took my advice. It is a relief to know she can take care of herself.” Giles gingerly wrapped an arm around Buffy’s shoulder and gave her a gentle squeeze. “As for the rest, I promise we will avert the prophecy.” “Thanks, Giles. For everything.” Buffy hugged him, managing this time not to crack any of his ribs, and stepped out of the office to talk to Cordelia. “Spike, I know you find Angelus’s eviction from the bosom of the Aurelian clan exceptionally amusing, but do try to recall how vindictive Angelus can be.” He gestured to the solemn faced Cordelia who was unconsciously pulling at her hair. “He maybe on the last train to Clarksville, but rest assured he will return and I doubt he will be best pleased about Darla. We need to be ready.” “I know, mate, but you have to give a bloke a moment to relish the news. I’ve lived in that sod’s shadow for so many years that it chafes a blokes bits. Always being found lacking compared to the great and wondrous Peaches, both fighting wise, and in the sack, as if that were true!” Spike shook his head at the remembered taunts thrown at him by Darla, Dru and Angelus over the decades. “It’s ruddy funny what’s happened, his sire gone and his flabby arse dropkicked out of the clan!” He snorted with laughter and then straightened his face. “Yes indeed, I’ve read the Chronicles. You and Angelus seemed to have had a colourful association.” Part of Giles itched to ask, but he managed to hold back the words aching to tumble from his lips. He waited instead in the hope that Spike may offer up something and he was rewarded for his patience. “Yeah, you and me’ll have to have a good chat about that over a bottle or two once we get rid of Batface.” “I’ll hold you to that,” Giles nodded, secretly bouncing with glee at the possibility of first hand information about the Scourge of Europe. He could see the book already: The Genesis of the Scourge of Europe – a first hand account, by Giles. R. All in gold embossed lettering, it looked wonderful in his mind’s eye. His peers would be pea green with envy at the kudos that the publication would engender. “Right, best be off then, got the birds waiting for me.” As Spike left the cramped room, he turned to Giles, “Oh and Watcher, I need you to do a bit of hocus pocus for me.” “Me?” “Yeah, you. And don’t bother with the wide eyed innocence, I can smell the magicks all over you. Also, Ripper, I know all about your fun and frolics in the Seventies. This is for her. I need you to convert a good few large barrels of water into icenthgious water. It’s a simple enough chant and all, especially for you, Ripper. Can you get on with it?” Spike tilted his head and waited for Giles to catch up with him. “Use Holy Water as a dilutant, if you can get enough of it without being nicked by the preacher.” The door swung shut on Giles’s spluttering face.

Chapter #12 - Chapter 12

Thank you to all of you who reviewed your amazing words and support have really fueled my muse with this fic - I do hope you enjoy this chapter?! Megan you are the best! Thank you for your betaing magic XXX It ended with a bang and a scream. Well a lot of screams - and a stench of burning flesh. Spike stood over the now open manhole with a manic grin on his blackened face as he whooped with uncontained glee. He grinned feverishly down at his golden girl, his teeth a flash of startling white amongst the soot anointing his sharp features. He lifted Buffy above his head and twirled around in celebration, howling at the moon as he did. "We bloody well did it!" Buffy threw her head back and laughed, relief oozing from every pore of her body. They had done it - she was alive. They'd thumbed their noses at the prophecy and won. She was alive and Nest was dead. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ A few hours earlier "You get it sorted?" Spike ran a hand through his already rumpled hair and blinked tiredly at his visitor. He had been up to his ears in schematics and researching the rabbit warren tunnel system under Sunnydale. He was beginning to suspect that someone had built them with demons in mind. The tangled tunnels appeared to mimic the roads above ground, as well as adding more access points to places that only the demonic underworld were aware of. Spike had decided it was something he would investigate later on, once the crusty old head of his clan was dealt with. "Didn't expect it so fast." Spike nodded in approval as he rolled the last of the wooden barrels into his home. "Yes, it's all here; I thought time was of the essence? Though I have to say, I am concerned about what you have planned - this Icenthgious water is exceptionally volatile." Giles eyed the two dozen barrels that they had lugged into Spike's apartment a few moments ago with unconcealed trepidation. He had made a command decision; the barrels were not staying in his apartment. They made him nervous and his insurance simply wouldn't cover any more mystical damage claims. Giles looked over his shoulder with his heart in his throat. He didn't really want to know - but he had to. To his immeasurable relief there was no sign of his charge. The frazzled man relaxed. The Watcher had entertained several long moments of cold sweats and shivers over what he may witness in the vampire’s apartment. He had wondered what he would do if he had arrived mid something it was best not to dwell on. But something in the vampire's eyes had fuelled his curiosity and Giles had immediately got onto creating the dangerous liquid as requested as soon as all the children had left for the night, so he could deliver it as soon as he could. He had even gone as far as waking Father Gregory and asking him to bless all of the barrels along with the water he used for a dilutant. "Can't you put a shirt on or something?" Giles grumbled as he ducked his head and stared down at Spike's pale feet. "And some shoes before you scar me for life?" he muttered under his breath. Spike arched a brow at him and ran a hand over his chest as he smirked at the obviously exhausted Watcher. "Why don't you get home and get some kip in before tonight?" Giles ran a hand through his hair and nodded. "I think I will. We need to be as sharp as we can." "Did you sign the Slayer out of school tomorrow?" "I will, and I have asked also Principal Flutie to allow Ms Rosenburg to assist me in the library all day tomorrow." "Eh?" "Willow. I will need her to see if she can help me find a confinement spell strong enough to cover the entire area. I thought it maybe of twofold assistance, keeping both the targets confined as well as that," he admitted while he pointed at the barrels. "Good thinking, mate, but get some shut eye first. You've already been heavy with the hocus pocus. Slayer'll need you in top form later on." Spike reached for the door, eager to get back to bed. "Yes, Buffy – umm—" His unspoken question hung in the air between them, demanding a response. "She's at home with her mum. Now bugger off, mate." Spike managed not to roll his eyes at the now flustered Watcher and ushered him out of the apartment. "Dirty old man. For shame," he added, unable to resist teasing. "Yes…well," Giles stammered and shot out of the apartment as if Cerebus himself was slathering and nipping at his heels. Spike shook his head and headed back to the dining table and the schematics that Red had printed off for him. Reaching for the fountain pen he'd been using before Giles had appeared, he began marking off access points to where he suspected Nest's lair was located. He and Buffy had planned to have a scout around once she'd gotten some beauty sleep. Spike ran his fingers through his curls and wondered if she was all snugly and cute in her bed and then smacked his forehead on the desk and groaned. 'Chivalry was for eunuchs...' As he peered at the tunnel system layouts and scribbled furiously on the margins of the paper, his mind was filled with images of sparkling hazel eyes, full pouting lips and sensuous golden curves that his hands ached to trace. Why was he waiting? Oh right, he wasn't a pervy old cradle snatcher. When the time was right and the Slayer was ready, only then. ~~~~~~~~~~ "Wakey wakey, cutie pie." Spike snorted and rolled over, swatting irritably at the tickling sensation on the edge of his ear. "Geroff…bloke needs his beauty sleep." He ignored the giggles and curled back around the pillow he was clutching and let out a happy little snore. Then he sighed contentedly as a soft mouth brushed over the tip of his nose and kissed his partially open lips before pulling back with a sharp breathy gasp. "Ohhhh, you liar! You said you don't snore!" "I don't bloody snore," Spike growled. He lunged for his tormentor and pulled her into the bed and began to kiss her senseless. "I breathe heavily. Come ‘ere, I need another kiss." "Mmmm…Spike," Buffy purred happily as she kissed her sleepy vamp awake. Her tongue curled around his and toyed sensuously with it. Her hands snuck over his torso mapping the hard curves, her fingers toying with his abs happily as she snuck another kiss or two. "You smell of sweetness and sin," Spike whispered against her throat as he pressed a sucking kiss against the golden skin. He smiled as he felt her pulse flutter under his lips and laved the area lovingly. Buffy giggled again and pulled him closer, her arms and legs wrapping around his drowsy form as she let him ghost his lips over the tops of her full breasts. "Spike," she sighed against the top of his head as she pressed her cheek against the soft curls. "I brought coffee and food. Mom sent it over. I think she baked!" Buffy frowned. “I think she likes you, which is of the weird cos she never liked anyone else I dated in L.A.” "Grub? And of course she likes me, what’s not to like?" Spike rolled off his couch with a cocky smirk and headed over to the food parcels. Buffy sat back and admired the view. His tight backside was outlined by the low riding grey sweats he was wearing. She licked her lips at the sight of the muscles in his back flexing as he sauntered towards the steaming covered cups; he was liquid sin on legs...and all hers. "Your mum’s a saint. St. Delia of Sunnyhell," he moaned as he devoured the first of several still warm muffins. "Delia? Who?" Spike watched the cute frown line appear between her eyebrows and shook his head. "Sorry, wrong Continent. She's a cook in the UK." "Any good?" "Well, she can boil an egg...and supports the footy. Owns her own team in the Premiership." "And all I hear is egg, yada yada – blah, blah, blah." Buffy grinned as she stood, ignoring the muffled expletives as she stole a bite from his muffin and danced out of his way. "Oi, mine." "Here you go, you big baby." She handed him another and then collapsed down at the table and began scanning the papers. Her sharp eyes missed nothing as she shuffled through the layouts, tapping her finger here and there on the heavy black marks he'd added earlier. "So you think these barriers will contain it?" Spike scrubbed a hand through his hair and padded over to the dining table and leant against it as he sipped on a cup of coffee. "Yeah, as long as the Watcher can hold up his end we should be able to work it." Buffy eyed the semi naked vampire, trying hard not to focus on the curls, the abs of steel and the cute barefooted image he was working on and failed miserably. She reached over and trailed her fingers over his side, and watched in amazement as he squirmed away and repressed what sounded suspiciously like a giggle. "So you up for a bit of sneaking around in the sewers with me?" Spike cleared his throat of the squeak and cocked his head at his girl who was eyeing his sides with a predatory look that made his skin tighten in anticipation of an attack. "Huh?" "Sewers, crusty old vamp - reconnaissance? Remember?" "Yeah, but you need shoes for that." Buffy mentally slapped herself, wondering where the idiot bimbo impersonation came from? God she'd only touched his skin, skin that was sooo soft and the muscles were just so lickable and gahh. "You alright, pet?" Spike smirked. 'Oh yeah, I've still got it...' Buffy flapped her hands at him and blushed beet red. "Go dress and then we can do the icky stuff. Have you got a gas mask around here?" she added hopefully. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Can you see anything?" "Shhh, I'm trying to listen," Spike hissed over his shoulder at Buffy. "What can you see? Is it them? Can you see your Great-Great-Great Grandpappy? How many greats away is he anyway? Is he ugly or cute?" she whispered. "Ohhh, hey. You never told me how old you really are. Are you like ancient?" "Seriously, love, I appreciate that you're nervous, the Dadaesque babbling is cute and all, but we are in enemy territory and you might witter on long enough for them to find us, eat you and dust me. So, shhhh love." Spike reached behind him and blindly ran his hand over her pouting mouth in a tender gesture that put stars in her eyes. "Kay," she whispered and then went quiet. Contenting herself on keeping watch over their backs and trying to ignore the last time she'd been down here. Buffy gulped back the throb of regret in her throat. Jesse. Her first failure here in Sunnydale, the tall goofy guy had been a possible friend until he was vamped and Xander had dusted him. It still ached a bit when she thought about him, or when she saw that devastated faraway look in Xander's eyes. "Come on, we need to move closer." Spike took her hand and pulled her forward to the next junction and then stalled. He heard a scrabbling noise, the sound of leather on cement; cocking his head he waited for another sign that they weren't alone. Nothing came echoing down the dank tunnels, so he relaxed a fraction and shifted his weight to peer around the corner. "Any of this look familiar?" he whispered. Buffy tore her eyes away from the door that had been peeled away from its frame. The same door Jesse had torn his way into, the same door that she and Xander had slammed shut. 'God, nothing's changed.' "Slayer? You okay?" "Yeah, sorry, kinda phased there. This is it. That's the place Xander and I climbed out of to get away from the Master’s minions." She pointed to the utility room with a shudder. “Did you hear something just then?” He peeked around the corner, trying to spot the direction the faint sound of conversation was coming from. They were close to the lair and he wanted to make sure that the vamps hadn't created any boltholes that weren't on the schematics he'd spent most of the night poring over. "Can you see anything? Spike, how much longer? Cos kinda erring on the side of ewww here." He growled under his breath and whipped around to face Buffy. She stood with her index finger extended - the same finger that had been poking him insistently in the small of his back all the time she had been nagging. She whipped her hand behind her back and stared innocently back at him. "What?" she whispered. "Put it away, Miss Proddy, or I'll bite it off!" Spike frowned down at the picture of slayerly innocence she was portraying—well trying to portray and failing badly at it. His lips curled up in a soft smile; she really was adorable and all his if he had any say in it. "Hey!" Buffy's eyes widened in shock. "Don't!" she exclaimed angrily and pulled out a stake from her waistband and waved it menacingly at Spike. He reeled back in surprised shock and held his hands out defensively. Buffy rolled her eyes at him. "No not you, hi..." "Wot? I was bloody joking, ow -" Spike staggered sideways, seeing stars and not the ones he’d seen in her eyes earlier. Spike fell to his knees with a groan as pain radiated down his spine from his skull. He tried to balance himself on one hand as he lashed out defensively backwards with one leg and kicked his attacker hard in the balls. "Rude much," Buffy snarled and leapt forward and staked the vampire who had bashed Spike over the head with a club. She then whirled into action and started to fight off the three other vamps that had appeared out of the side tunnel. "Spike, get up. You need to get up now!" she shrieked as she pulled the skinny, spotty faced fledgling off Spike's back and threw him over her shoulder. He went down with a howl and took the other two down as well, who then kicked him repeatedly before they left him for dead, intent on the small blonde fighter behind them. "Right." Spike shook his head and staggered to his feet, eyeing the three sets of vampire twins who his slayer was fighting off with varying degrees of success. "Christ on a pogo stick!" He reached out and steadied himself on the pipes that ran the length of one wall and tried to anchor himself as the world shifted and spun out of control. Raising his other hand, he managed to stake one of the spotty teenaged twins and then blinked when their opponents narrowed down to four. "Bloody head." Buffy grasped the arm wrapped around her throat, dug her nails in hard and gouged downwards as best she could. At the same time she threw her head back in a reverse Geordie and nailed her attacker on the nose. He howled as the bone shattered and blood gushed down his face and soaked his shirt. Taking advantage of his disorientation, Buffy let her body go limp and slithered out from under her captor's arm. She twisted on the balls of her feet and reached up with her stake, unerringly finding his heart. Coughing and spluttering she stood and faced the last of the vamps; he was standing over Spike's supine body shouting, anger cloaking his words and actions with a darkness she had never experienced before. Buffy let out a small sound of distress at the sight of Spike’s vulnerable body slumped against the wall and reached for her last stake. "Filthy villainous traitor! If you weren't already damned, you are now! Fighting with the slayer and not against it. That's disgusting, and what's worse, you have Slayer breath. I can smell it from here. Just wait till I…" He burst into dust to reveal a very determined Buffy who reached through the glimmering motes and yanked Spike to his feet. "God, rude much? You okay, sweetie?" "Where did they all go?" Spike tried to uncross his eyes and failed miserably. "Watch out love," he bent over and vomited blood up all over her sneakers with a pathetic moan and an all over body shiver. "Ick! You gonna be okay?" She ran her fingers through his blood-soaked hair, searching for the lump. "Yeaowwww!" Spike slapped her hand away and curled his own protectively over his much abused scalp. "Poor baby, come here." She reached out and pulled him against her stomach and gently stroked his shoulders. Spike snuggled against her soft belly and let himself be cosseted for a sinfully delicious moment. Sighing happily, he waited for the metaphorical stars spinning around his head to disappear, along with the throbbing. "Wanker hit me on the noggin," he whined and wrapped his arms around her, giving her backside a nice squeeze with both hands. "That he did, Spike, but bonus points for Buffy; I dusted him for you." She petted the nape of his neck, her eyes scanning the sewers for intruders. But the only thing interrupting them was the steady sound of water dripping down the walls and her breathing. He sighed again. Slowly everything focused back to normal and the double vision vanished along with the nausea. "You get ‘em all?" "Dusted. Come on, let's have a snoop around and get out of here before anything else finds us." Buffy helped him up and tucked his arm through hers as they ghosted off into the shadows. Both hunters on high alert after their ambush. "Damn, I ruined my manicure." ~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Why the hell do I get paired with him?" Cordelia jerked a thumb in Xander's direction and frowned at Giles. She wrinkled her nose at Xander when he grumbled a bad tempered ‘hey’ at her and carried on whittling stakes, muttering under his breath about how he didn't want her around beating the crap outta him anyway. “All he does is whine and then gets knocked over and trampled by demons.” "Because he is the only one left," Giles answered mildly as he leant over Willow's shoulder and corrected the spelling of one of the words of the spell. He rather doubted that the end result of the incantation was pink ferrets wearing kaftans. "Willow, you need to crosscheck your Sumerian translations here and here." He tapped the sheet of paper in the appropriate places. "Otherwise the spell will go drastically wrong. When we get back from this you and I will have to have some lessons on working through spells to ensure there are no consequences of an extremely unfortunate kind." Willow gulped and turned pink. Ducking her head she focused on the sheets of paper and began to re-write the spell, making sure there were no errors. "Sorry, Giles." She was so embarrassed about getting something wrong, it was just not done. Mentally promising herself to recheck everything over and over before handing it to Mr Giles, she didn't want anything to go kerbluey. Not when she could fix it before it happened. "Where are they?" Giles sank down in a chair and wondered if he could get away with a nice cuppa laced heavily with brandy without the children noticing. He rubbed a hand over the worn cover of the Arbus Incanthusi and wondered if he were doing the right thing encouraging them. They should cling to their innocence for as long as possible, although admittedly Cordelia's horrendous situation precluded her from that. But the other two… Willow and Xander, both of them so innocent and unworldly, and yet they were here determined to make a difference despite the odds. He wished he could protect them from everything that went bump in the night, but it was already a done deal. They were both involved and he hoped that they would survive the coming years intact and unaffected by everything they would see and experience. Wishful thinking he knew, but he could only hope. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Is that where he's stuck?" Buffy whispered and tucked herself against Spike's side, drawing strength from him. Spike nodded and then pulled her back. "Come on, I've seen enough." "Thank god, cos you know Buffy served up on a platter for crinkly old vamp guy is sooo not how I wanted to spend my afternoon." Buffy retreated quickly, letting Spike take the rear guard as she scrambled over some debris and out into the main sewer. "Me either. Come on, lets get back to the others." Spike closed his mouth and tried not to inhale too much of the familial scent that filled the area. Both Angelus and Darla's scents were stale, but the other was stronger and ever present. He'd not had the misfortune of meeting the bat faced head of the clan, but he'd heard enough from Darla about him. Though Spike doubted knowing about the size of his cock and the old man's stamina would be of much help today. He shook his head and laughed at the imagined expression on Rupes face if he brought that up. Spike moaned and clutched his head; the action had started the throbbing again. He still couldn’t believe an acne faced fledge had gotten the drop on him. One of the Master’s own get as well, which brought him right back to the wanker and Darla’s reminiscing. He shuddered at the memory of Darla holding a marrow up and waxing lyrical about her Daddy's being bigger and better than any of her old customers or Angelus’s. ‘Then again, it'd have to be if she felt anything, horrid old slapper that she was.' Buffy frowned as she heard a pathetic sound erupt from Spike’s lips. "What's with the whimpering?" Buffy hissed as she started to climb a ladder and head for the manhole. "My head." "We'll get some blood in you and it'll feel better, don't worry." She scrambled out into the basement of the local YMCA and then reached down and pulled Spike out. "Come on, lets have a look in the light. Oh my god!" "What?" Spike spun around, looking behind him. "God, the blood, it's everywhere and you have like a huoooge gash in your head." Buffy reached for his shoulder and pushed him over in the direction of the bathrooms. "Does vamp hair grow back?" She suppressed the grin that threatened to erupt across her face. Unable to resist teasing him a teeny tiny bit, she clamped her hand over her mouth and widened her eyes in mock horror. "What!" Spike nearly wept at the sound of his girlish exclamation as his fingers prodded gingerly around the cut. Buffy suppressed a giggle at his reaction. "Maybe a beret? Ohhh I know! A toupee, do you think they make them in that ‘I just got hit by a bucket of bleach’ look?" Buffy giggled as he ran to the mirror and then slithered to a halt, remembering he was a vamp and ergo, no reflection. "I need a camera now!" he whined. "Chill. Jeez, you're such a baby. I was kidding -- it's fixable. But seriously, will your hair grow back? Cos the Friar Tuck look? Kinda not sexy—eep..." Buffy squeaked as she was grabbed by a worried vampire and shaken then kissed hard and fast. She made a mental note that teasing Spike was good, but the kissage was even better—the perfect yum. ‘Rotten minx, attacking a bloke’s weak spot.’ He chuckled against her lips. But he let it pass, knowing all too well she was worried about the prophecy and the events planned for the evening. He could shoulder her teases if it meant the haunted look of worry was absent from her gorgeous eyes for even the briefest of moments. Spike pulled his fingers away and stared down at the crimson stickiness that clotted on his digits. He managed to refrain from licking them clean, knowing all too well if he did then he could kiss goodbye to her lips for a long time. Instead, he wiped them on the front of his already saturated t-shirt and then held out his hand for her. “Come on, we need to get back. We’ve only another hour until dusk and we need to be in position.” Buffy’s face darkened and determination settled on her smiling lips. With a brief nod she took his proffered hand. “We better get back, I don’t want to leave Cordy alone too long with Xander. She might kick him in the balls – again.” A/N there we go - all set up for the final chapter - comments would be food for my frazzled inspiration *g* I do hope you enjoyed?

Chapter #13 - Epilogue

I just wanted to thank everyone who has reviewed this fic - all of you have been wonderful and have made the experience of writing this fic tremendous! Thank You! Giles looked up at the sound of the library doors swinging open. “Ah, there you are. Oh dear lord, what happened?” He stared in horror at the blood-soaked Spike. “Good god, you look like someone vomited blood all over you.” Buffy wrinkled her nose and stared down at her once pristine sneakers, which were now a suspicious shade of red. “Actually, that would be me. Spike was hit over the head by a fl…” “A fleet of rabid vampires, tons of the evil bastards all howling for her blood and my untimely demise. I had to protect her right?” Spike interrupted with a pointed look. “Uh, yeah, there were like ten of them.” Buffy rolled her eyes and held up four fingers then shook her head at Spike with a giggle. “Well, err, maybe you should have a shower and get changed, Spike. That amount of blood will draw all kinds of predators tonight and we don’t have time to fight them and deal with The Master.” Giles pointed towards the door with his glasses. “Perhaps Xander could be persuaded to lend you something to wear?” Spike recoiled in horror, mental images of him wearing shorts and a Hawaiian shirt filling him with a dread unequalled by any horror he’d experienced in his past. “No, got what I need here.” He held up the duffle bag that he’d left in Buffy’s locker for such emergencies. “Will be back in two shakes.” He scarpered out of the library, making a mental note to take the boy shopping and find him some better threads. “That was plain mean, Giles,” Buffy giggled and sat down next to a quiet Willow. She gave the redhead a smile and then looked over at the spell they had been working on. “Ohh, is this it?” “Yes, indeed. Willow has been of invaluable assistance.” Giles took the sheet and began to re-read it, checking for errors. “Awesome work, Will. Go you with the spell goodness.” Buffy congratulated the quiet pensive girl who was still dwelling on Giles’s admonishments on her slackness over the research and then turned to scan the library. “What happened to Xander and Cordy? Did she do something to him?” “No, Giles sent them to load up the cars,” Willow reassured Buffy. “They were fine. Cordy complained a bit about having to work with him but didn’t kick him you know where.” The shy redhead blushed purple at the mention of her crush’s private parts and began to fiddle obsessively with a pencil. “Cool, so we’re nearly set to go?” Buffy bounced to her feet and headed to the cage and began to search for more stakes and a nice shiny sword to carry. She lifted the covers on the boxes filled with weaponry and began to search through everything trying to find the right armaments she may need. All her actions and smiles covered the building nerves that were threatening to choke her and make her cry. She so didn’t want to blubber in front of Giles. She couldn’t face the throat clearing and awkward attempts to pat her on the shoulder, and from the look of Willow’s face, she was upset enough about something. The tension in the room when they had come in had been so thick she was positive Spike was going to comment and make a mess of everything. “Giles, we need some blood, did you bring any? And a first aid kit.” Giles vanished into his office and rummaged through the cool box he’d lugged there incase Spike needed anything restorative after the fight. He bypassed the cans of beer and pulled out three packets of blood. Tucking them into his jacket to warm against his body, Giles reached for the ever present first aid kit and returned to the quiet library. School had ended about an hour ago and the building was silent. He had also checked that Flutie and the other members of staff were long gone. But somehow he doubted that the headmaster would complain much, not after Spike and Buffy rescuing him from being cannibalised by his own students. He shivered at the memory of Cordelia kicking the stuffing out of Hyena Xander after he’d tried to get a bit too fresh with her. “Slayer, you got the goods?” Spike burst into the library, redressed and clean. His hair was damp and curling as he gingerly swiped at the damaged area with a towel. He face darkened, and he shot over to the cage and stepped in, using his body as a shield so that the others couldn’t see his girl shaking. “It’ll be okay, I promise,” he whispered as his hands gentled her. Soothingly he ran his fingers through her hair as he rocked her back and forth. He whispered words of comfort and nonsense, calming her fears as best he could. “Thanks.” Her voice was muffled against his chest. Buffy wiped her face on his fresh clean shirt and then looked up at him. “I mean it.” “Know you do, love. Now take some deep breaths and as a treat, you can play doctor on my head.” “’Kay.” She wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve and gave him a luminescent yet watery smile. Before either of them could say another word to each other, Cordelia and Xander reappeared with a noisy clatter and mid-snipefest. “Do you even have any muscles, floppy boy?” Cordelia teased, for once humour dancing in her eyes. Ever since the news that Angelus was gone she had slowly begun to loosen up. She was still disappointed about being robbed of vengeance, but instead she focused on getting Buffy safely through the next few weeks; she was her friend. Probably one of a few true ones that she could count on one hand and there was no way she was letting the small blonde die. Not if she had her say, and one thing Cordy was good at was making herself heard. Angelus was unfinished business, but she was constantly telling herself revenge was a dish best served cold. So when the time was right, Angelus would get what was coming to him. Until then, life went on, and there was still Xander to tease and torment. Xander rolled his eyes at her, picking up on the light tone in her voice. He lifted both arms and hammed up to her, striking over-the-top body builder poses. “Look, I do, see. Right here. It’s only the size of an egg, but go Xanman with the incredible muscles.” “Ahh, good, all loaded?” Giles nodded in approval, pointedly ignoring the antics of the boy as he handed the first bag of blood to Spike. “Yeah, all done. My car, yours and Spike’s are all good to go.” Cordelia sauntered over to where Spike was seated opposite Willow and watched him vamp out and drain the first bag. “Bet that tastes like week old bread with mould on it?” “Mmph,” Spike nodded around the second bag as he sucked it down with an expression that resembled Angel’s when he discovered he had run out of gel. “Ouch, will your hair grow back?” Cordelia teased. “Oh, ha bloody ha. You and the slayer are a right pair of sodding comedians, aren’t you.” Spike reached for the third bag and smiled over at the still mute Willow. “Careful, Slayer, I still have working nerve endings – owww!” “Man, that is just nasty. I think I can see your skull from here.” Xander peered over Buffy’s shoulder as she cleaned the deep gash on Spike’s scalp. “Wonder if it needs stitches?” “Well, possibly. Maybe I should take over, Buffy?” To Spike’s immense relief, the Watcher gently seated Buffy and took over the doctoring. The others left Spike to Giles’s tender mercies and cross-stitching. They began to fill a couple of duffle bags with weapons, all of them flinching with each curse that erupted from Spike’s lips at the pass of the needle that Giles wielded with a startling efficiency. Buffy sat next to Spike, her hands holding his in a firm but gentle grip as she offered silent support, wincing in sympathy with each pass of the needle through his scalp. “There, all done, now something to clean the area.” Giles reached into his jacket and pulled out an ornate silver drinking flask. “Don’t pour that on my head, you heathen. Give it here, I need a drink.” Spike reached for the flask of whisky that Giles was about to use to clean the area and took a restorative pull, followed by several others draining it dry. “Much better, now slap a plaster on it and we better get going, Rupes.” “Honestly, you ingrate.” Giles took the empty flask back and stared at it mournfully. It was the one thing that kept him sane while dealing with his charge and her friends. Tucking it away in a pocket, he then carefully taped some gauze over the line of neat bright purple stitches he’d sewn into Spike’s battered scalp. “Thanks mate, did a right good job of it.” “You’re welcome, you whiny plonker.” Giles couldn’t wait for the vampire to discover the colour of the threads used. He could hear the howls and curses already. “Saddle up, kiddies. It’s time to shake the foundations of the Hellmouth and burst a puss-filled Master-shaped boil!” Spike called over one shoulder and he sauntered out of the library, trailed by Buffy. ~~~~~~~~~~~ And so they stood there waiting. It was nearly time, all their plans were about to come to fruition. The barrels of Icenthgious water had been poured into the sewer system surrounding the Master’s lair; Nest was below their feet, oblivious of the dangerous liquid that was slowly seeping into his prison. Spike rolled the last of the containers away from the open manhole and slid the heavy metal circle back into place and stood over it like a sentinel. Beside him Buffy stood armed and ready, Giles and Willow at her side ready to start the two spells. Xander and Cordelia stood about a hundred yards down from them, near the sewer access that Buffy and Xander had escaped from all those weeks ago. The industrial area was otherwise deserted. “Come on, love. We need to move down and cover the other manhole.” Spike nodded at Giles and pulled Buffy away. “How long till we need to start with the chanting?” Willow asked, her hands shaking as she clutched the rolled up piece of paper that bore her copy of the spell. Giles checked his watch. “We need to give the water a few minutes to soak into the area before we begin the first spell to make it turn into gas and then we move onto the second incantation.” “Okay.” Willow unrolled the crumpled papers and checked the spells. She opened her mouth and before she could ask, Giles interrupted her. “It’s all perfectly correct. I have rechecked and there are no mistakes. Patience, dear girl. Patience.” He gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder and then turned to check on the others. Making sure they were in position—in case a few strays escaped Spike’s devilish plan. “Right, we should begin.” Giles and Willow began to read; their words were whispered and low, the wind stealing them away before anything could be overheard. Below their feet the Icenthgious water began to vaporise into a colourless mist, their words rendering the holy water inactive for the time being. It rose and swirled through the tunnels, whispering around the oblivious vampires while saturating their clothes, skin and hair with its power. Nest sat disconsolately on his throne, a deep melancholia filling him. All his favourites were dead or banished—he was alone. He shifted in his seat, ignoring the hunger pangs that rumbled through him; since Darla had been dusted he had been barely able to eat. He sighed, unaware of the fine mist that coated his leather coat and his bald scalp waiting to work it’s awful power on his defenceless form. The words of the spell doubled the vapour, and then trebled it. It oozed into the surrounding tunnels and covered everything in its path. Its insidious presence was made known only with a faint passing rush of cool air, something the vampire’s didn’t notice. The vapour moved onwards and outwards until the two spell casters stopped their incantation, then it halted as if an invisible hand had pressed pause. “Good work, Willow. Well done.” Giles nodded in approval, amazed at the complete novice’s innate magical abilities. With time and training she would be an asset to them all. “Wow, I like felt it go through me. I feel all tingly and weird,” Willow gasped, her pale cheeks flushing a soft pink at his gentle accolades. Her innocence shielded her from the reality of her sexual thrill from the power that had infused her being. “Well, yes.” Giles blinked at her owlishly from behind his glasses and peered over them at her. “Ready for the next bit?” “Uh huh,” she nodded. “Now you must focus. This is essential, we need to contain it or there will be an appalling mess,” Giles instructed as he switched over to the longer spell. She nodded determinedly and began to chant in unison with the older man. Her soft contralto voice melded with his deeper tones as they began to slowly seal the entire area. It took several long painstaking moments, until they were sure all the escape routes were sealed in. It had taken a good few minutes going over the schematics with Spike and Buffy, showing them what their earlier reconnaissance had found. The information gave them the time parameters needed for the spell to be chanted in order to block all escape routes. It had been a necessary danger, the two blonds accessing the tunnels, but now it was paying off. “God! How much longer?” Cordelia groused under her breath. She felt exposed and worried for Buffy. Every moment could lead to discovery and then disaster. “They’re doing their best.” Xander fidgeted and stared over his shoulder at Willow and Giles, his hands twitching at his sides. He was itching to see Giles’s signal, adrenalin pumping through him as he stood shivering in the wind. “We have to get this right, otherwise…” “Yeah, otherwise Buffy could die. I know, but the waiting—” Cordelia sighed and tapped one of her feet impatiently. “Sucks, I know.” Xander gave her a lopsided grin and then shifted around so he could see Buffy and squinted into the dark. All he could see was Spike’s blond head that was looking downwards as he talked intently to the small slayer. Protectiveness screamed in every line of his body. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Somewhere in Mexico “Oh poor toasty daddy, all covered in crackling and singed to bits. The imps called and implored, telling me to come here to greet you. I didn’t want to come as you have been a very naughty boy, but here I am.” A pale slender hand reached over and pulled the unconscious vampire off the manure-coated floor. Her mouth formed a moue of disgust at the stench of decay and dung. All around them were the drained bodies of cattle; some who had escaped the fangs of the slumped form mooed anxiously at her from the far corner. “Tut, tut, what a sight you are, but we will make you all better and then I can play. I cannot wait to hear your screams as I make pretty pictures of your skin. You’ll take your punishment for leaving me all alone like a good daddy, won’t you?” The mad vampiress cackled in glee at the weeks, no months of fun and pain she would have. “For shame, those naughty boys throwing you in the mess… it’s a lucky evening that my prince will be turning them into fairy lights tonight. I wonder if they will burn as brightly as the stars?” The skinny brunette vampiress gathered her burned sire into her arms and hefted him over her shoulder. “Come, my darling daddy, time for your baby girl to tend you wounds.” Drusilla lapped at the seeping cracked skin on Angelus’s throat and then giggled. “Ohhh, you taste of promised parties and pain.” Tiptoeing around the steaming piles of excrement, one of the last scions of Aurelius carried her comatose sire out into the Mexican night. “Don’t worry, Daddy. Nasty granddad is all gone melted away in the fires of hell and destruction, he won’t hurt you again. You’re all mine now – no naughty pixies to distract you and make you want them. All mine.” She cackled and disappeared into the darkness, carrying her charred burden with ease. “No more dirty Queen of Cups to keep you from me ever, ever again.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Getting kinda freaked here, Spike. It’s like the middle of nowhereville and here we are, serving up a free for all at a come and eat as much as you want vamp buffet!” Buffy rambled on nervously, her eyes darting around checking their perimeters, on alert for anything remotely demon-shaped that she could puree. “I know, pet, but only a few more secs…ah, there you go. Rupes gave us the all clear.” He hefted the homemade Molotov cocktail he’d fashioned out of cheap gin and lit the soaked rag. He loved these things, good for inciting riots or disposing of irritating old farts who thought they were the be all and end all of creation. “Ohhh, lemme hold up the manhole!” Buffy bounced excitedly and knelt over, pulling the cover off easily. In the distance she could see Cordelia holding another bottle with a lit rag and gesturing to the sewer access and ordering Xander about. “Three,” Spike called out. “Two,” Giles responded as he lit his own bottle. Willow continued the chant as she watched the older man kneel and raise his arm in readiness. “One!” Xander shouted. In unison the three bottles were thrown into the sewer and the manholes slammed shut with a resounding echo through Nest’s lair, alerting the vampires below to the intrusion. But by then it was too late, the damage was already done – they were all sitting undead ducks about to go out in a blaze of glory. The highly volatile vapour that saturated the entire area ignited with a whoosh, in an instant sucking all the oxygen into its flames and causing them to burn brighter and harder. The heat of the fire triggered the holy water back into action, with the much anticipated result of undead skin burning and smoking. The tunnels were filled with screams of anguish and pain as the vampire’s skins first burned from the contact of holy water on their persons, and then the Icenthgious vapour ignited. “What? NO!” Nest roared and staggered to his feet, his face a ball of flames as his clothes ignited and began to burn with an intensity that rivalled the sun. His skin charred and peeled back, exposing his fangs in a rictus like grin as the rest of his bones melted and fused. He raised his arms and howled his anger as he crumpled jerkily into ashes. With a whisper of falling motes, the feared head of the Aurelius clan vanished into the soil, forgotten and unlamented. Around him his followers burned brighter than the strongest stars and then vanished in a puff of dust and flames. The flames curled up against the containment barriers, burning and roiling futilely against its invisible magical prison. The burning vapours had worked their will, destroying all the vampires of the clan gathered in the abandoned church and now it was seeking more victims for its powerful conflagration before it burned out and faded away.. Then Willow sneezed, her words of containment but a mere murmur in the breeze as she sneezed again. Then she looked down at Giles with a horror filled gaze. “Oops.” “Oh god, move!” Giles stared up at the appalled redhead and threw himself at her, pushing her out of the way. Cordelia spotted the sudden movement and reached for Xander and threw him away from the access. They fell and rolled over and over, putting them at a safe distance from the explosion. Without the spell containing it, the Icenthgious vapour surged through the surrounding tunnels, burning everything in its path. Balls of fire and destruction rolled through and upwards, blowing out manholes in a three mile radius. The spinning circles of metal flew upwards and shot about a hundred feet into the night air, destructive flames licking the air and sampling freedom before burning out. The fiery plumes lit up the darkness and for a brief moment as if it were midday. The Sunnydale residents paused for a moment and then continued on as if nothing were out of the norm. Underground, anything that had been undead or lived and breathed was a mere afterthought in the destruction that rained down on the tunnels. For once the good guys won, the balance shifted in their favour. Demons and vampires, the denizens of the underworld who had been drawn to the power of the Hellmouth and the Master of the Aurelian clan were destroyed in one a flash of fire and brimstone. With a simple flick of a lighter, a prophecy had been thwarted and a Slayer saved by the one being that was meant to hunt her into extinction. The same being that was spinning her in the air and laughing with relief. Spike let Buffy slide down his body and he kissed her long and hard. It was over. Nest was dead and Buffy was alive. They were safe, for now, until the next apocalypse or prophecy raised its ugly head. But they would be ready. Finis A/N well there we go all done. I really loved writing this fic and all the amazing feedback from so many of you has been wonderful and so appreciated! I have to admit Cordy was a surprise to me in this fic - I had not planned for her to evolve as she did, she was basically going to be a victim de jour but then the whole angry Joan of Arc vibe appeared and she snuck into the center of the action for a good while! I have got plans to revist this fic in a sequel but it has join the back of the line *g* I have a promise to fulfil to shady76 or she will prod me black and blue!