- 7 -


Buffy moaned out her pleasure gratefully as she stepped under the spray of the shower. The hot water pounded out against her skin slowly turning her skin a rosy pink as it cascaded down the length of her body easing the ache from her tired muscles. She rolled her head gently from side to side as she tried to loosen her stiff neck muscles before slowly rotating her shoulders letting the gentle motion of her limbs and heat of the water relax her sore muscles.

For months, her patrol had entailed little more than staking a couple of wayward vamps here and there as she made a few quick sweeps of the town. Spike tended to have things well in hand as the Master of Sunnydale, and few demons stepped out of line, happy with the system he ran. Running into a small group of Fyarl demons who were new to town hadn’t been part of the plan. If nothing else, they certainly knew how to pack a punch; her whole body felt like one big bruise. Her skin was already turning a lovely mottled shade of purple in places where bruises had begun to form. It didn’t matter that by morning they’d have mostly disappeared, everything ached now.

Not everything about getting her arsed kicked had been bad though, she thought idly. A stupid grin broke out across her face as she remembered Spike’s reaction when she’d hobbled in through the front door that night. Some of his demon buddies were over for a night of kitten poker—an event that seemed to be fast becoming a weekly tradition—yet, Spike had practically upended the table in his haste to check on her. It had taken him a moment to realise that all the blood he could smell on her wasn’t fresh, but rather the blood that was slowly collecting under the surface of her skin to form the array of bruises that littered her body. She hadn’t realised that a vampire’s sense of smell was quite so strong. He’d drawn her in close, his relief palpable in his embrace, uncaring as his demon buddies had chuckled away in the background.

Buffy sighed happily as she remembered the way he kissed her gently and sent her upstairs to shower and change while he said goodbye to his friends. She could easily grow accustomed to this—this almost overwhelming sense of belonging. It was more than just a feeling of being part of something bigger; it was simply an understanding that all that she was, was Spike’s. She belonged to him, just as he belonged to her. It was a heady experience. One she was enjoying every minute of.

Quickly going through the motions of washing her hair, she shut the water off and stepped out of the shower. The bathroom was filled with billowing clouds of steam, but even so she shivered mildly as the air outside of the shower hit her skin. She reached for one of their big fluffy towels and quickly towelled off the excess water before wrapping it around her torso as she made for the door.

Spike was lounged across their bed waiting for her. The smile on her face grew impossibly larger as she saw him. In front of him, small black and tabby kittens—his winnings from the game that night—playfully pounced and pawed one another on their bedspread, Spike’s hand lost somewhere between them, encouraging their playful wrestling.

“Enjoy your shower, pet?”

Buffy hummed out her agreement contentedly as his eye rose to meet her gaze.

Spike smiled as he easily rolled from the bed, sending the kittens scurrying to the floor as he made his way across the room to her. His hands on her face were gentle as he traced the bruise that had bloomed across her cheekbone. It wasn’t as obvious as the others on her body, but for some reason it hurt twice as bad.

“You sure you’re okay, pet?” He asked again, now that they were alone.

Buffy nodded. “I’m fine. Just a little bruised in places.”

“Who was it?” Spike pressed. The intensity of his gaze making something bubble up inside of her happily.

“No one major,” she responded easily. “I’ve been getting lazy with nothing to kill but a few vamps here and there lately. These guys were new to town.”

“Vamps?” Spike asked, brushing her damp hair back from her face.

Buffy shook her head. “No, Fyarl demons. Four of them.”

Spike nodded, his fingers still toying with her hair absently.

“We start training. Tomorrow,” Spike stated firmly. “Want to make sure you’re not slipping in your old age, pet.”

Buffy whacked him on the arm lightly and pouted. “I’m not old! And I’m not slipping! I’ve never had to kill four Fyarl’s before. I’d forgotten how strong they were.”

Spike smirked down at her.

“You’re almost eighteen, kitten. That’s getting old for a Slayer,” he teased lightly.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Says the century old vampire.”

Spike tugged her towards him gently with a chuckle, his arms twining around her waist easily as he gazed down at her with affection. His hands ran soothing strokes up and down the sides of her torso.

“I guess I’m just a dirty old man then,” he leered at her, his hand sneaking up under the edge of her towel, gliding over the swell of her buttocks.

Buffy snickered. “Yes, and I’m a twisted, twisted individual for letting you touch me. Shame on us!” She said in mock reproach.

Spike grinned, swooping down to draw Buffy into a quick kiss. He moaned as she latched on to his lower lip with her teeth, biting down on it gently as he tried to pull back. Buffy smiled in pleasure, drawing his head back down to hers as he relented. The soft, languid press of his lips against hers felt sinful, sending shivers of delight down her spine. Buffy felt herself melt into his embrace, a contented sigh leaving her lips involuntarily as the kiss ended.

“God, I love you, kitten…”

The happy haze around her broke suddenly and Buffy froze, the whispered words reverberating against her skin: I love you.

I love you.

What? Had Spike really just said that? She felt Spike stiffen against her in shock at the words that had just tumbled from his mouth. His forehead pressed against hers and his unsteady breath fanning her lips. Oh my God. Spike loved her.

Buffy felt her heart leap wildly.

“I love you, too,” she whispered, her voice nothing more than a breathy exhale, but she knew Spike had heard. Drawing back, she smiled up at him. Spike was gazing down at her in amazement. The look of awe that was plastered across his face, one she would never forget.

The mood between them had shifted quickly, and Spike let his hand fall out from beneath her towel as he gripped her around her waist firmly, drawing her body into his tightly. Buffy buried her face in his neck, inhaling his scent as the moment washed over them. She pressed a soft kiss against the skin she found there. Spike loved her.

“God, love,” Spike whispered thickly, then his lips were on hers. The position was awkward—not a breath of air between them, her neck craned sideways so she could reach his lips—but she didn’t care. It was perfect. They were stumbling backwards blindly in the direction of the bed, her towel discarded to the floor as Spike’s clothing disappeared from his body piece by piece.

Their coupling was rushed, a desperate need urging them on. Buffy cried out as Spike filled her, sliding home for the first time and stretching her virtually untried walls almost painfully. She gritted her teeth against the first few strokes, waiting for the pain to recede and take a backseat to the pleasure she knew would come.

Buffy cried out as her climax slammed down around her, the delicious ache that had been building slowly bursting over her before she was ready for it. Crying out, she clutched Spike against her tightly, her legs locked tightly around his waist as he followed her over the edge.

“Oh my God,” Buffy sighed breathlessly as Spike rolled off to one side, pulling her into his arms as he went. Spike was panting heavily beside her, the breaths unnecessary yet seemingly natural.

She smiled tiredly as she felt him press a soft kiss to the top of her head and give her a gentle squeeze.

“You’ll still be here when I wake up right?” Buffy asked quietly, not lifting her head to look him in the eyes.

“Always, love.”


~::~


Giles didn’t know where to begin. Where to start in their search for his missing Slayer? He could call the Council, of course, but that would mean admitting to the fact that he had no idea where she was in the first place. The fact that he’d let months go by, without even an attempt at contact with his charge, and all because of a grudge. He felt the guilt rise up inside of him again but he ruthlessly pushed it aside. He would deal with his guilt later. The Council, though, was out of the question. At best he’d be removed from his post, at worst Buffy would be labelled a rogue Slayer. Neither was a viable outcome. He’d heard stories of what the Council did to rogue Slayers. It made him sick to even think about it, let alone in relation to Buffy.

Force of habit had Giles whipping his glasses from his face and polishing them furiously as he tried to drown out the sound of the children all talking over the top of one another. This meeting was going nowhere fast and Joyce looked like she was getting closer and closer to breaking point by the minute.

“Maybe she and Angel ran off together?” Willow suggested finally.

Xander snorted indelicately. Mentally, Giles echoed his response.

“I sincerely doubt it,” Giles he responded irritably. “Buffy wouldn’t be so stupid as to fall straight back into a relationship with a man who has spent the better part of the last few months tormenting her and trying to kill her. Not to mention the countless others he no doubt murdered during that time. The notion is absurd.”

“But what if he was Angel again?” Willow pushed. “I did the spell, after all, and the orb did that glow thing and disappeared. That means it worked, right?”

“And if it did? Angelus and Angel are the same person on a fundamental level. Even with a soul, Angel is still a demon,” Giles snapped, losing the battle he’d been fighting with his patience. “If Angelus didn’t teach Buffy her lesson, I don’t know what will. I seriously doubt she would be so phenomenally stupid as to become involved with a vampire ever again—soul or no, they’re nothing but animals.”

Willow shrank back in the face of the librarian’s anger. It was a rare occasion that the Watcher truly lost his temper with them, but it had already occurred twice in the last few days. Willow didn’t know whether he was angrier at her and Xander or himself, but lately he seemed to be constantly walking the thin line between worried and furious and they were all walking on tiptoes around him.

“Rupert!” Joyce scolded, looking between the redhead and her teacher.

Giles sighed.

“I’m sorry, Willow. I haven’t been sleeping well,” Giles offered by way of explanation letting the anger drain out of him—or at least attempting to.

Willow nodded meekly. “Ah…It’s o-okay.”

Oz took up her hand supportively and Willow smiled gratefully at him, thankful for his quiet presence beside her.

A stilted silence settled over the group and Giles sighed heavily knowing he was the cause of it. Tensions were already running high, yet try as he might he couldn’t find the patience needed to care. Usually he found Willow the least annoying of Buffy’s friends, but her naïve questions were all rubbing him the wrong way. The idea of Buffy running off with Angel, after everything that had happened, after everything that bastard had done to them—to him, to Jenny!—made his blood boil, but despite his scathing retort to the contrary, Giles couldn’t help but silently wonder if that wasn’t exactly what had occurred. He’d spent so much time preaching a black and white world view, he wondered if it hadn’t backfired on him. Demons were evil soulless beings, Angel the exception because he had a soul—a conscience. Who had he been kidding? Angel’s ‘conscience’ had been so secure that all it had taken was a moment of happiness for it to be dislodged.

“We need to go over what we know,” Joyce stated firmly, interrupting his train of thought, and for her sake he pushed his dark ponderings aside.

“Well, we know she’s not hiding out at Angel’s old place,” Xander put in, “There was a layer of dust in there that could just about take on a life of its own.”

“Can we say ‘Ew!’? That place was disgusting; I can’t believe Angel even still owns it!” Cordy muttered in disgust.

“Are you kidding? What’s not to love about concrete walls and sparse furnishings?” Xander retorted sarcastically.

“Oz and I checked out the Mansion, but it was all pretty quiet and we think it has new tenants so we didn’t go in,” Willow continued. “Someone’s done some work on the garden, and Oz said he saw a furniture delivery van out front when he drove by a couple of weeks ago.”

“All human,” Oz confirmed. “It was midday.”

“Yes, well none of the motels or hotels in Sunnydale have anyone staying there matching her description,” Giles finished. “Not to mention her lack of funds. If she were staying anywhere in Sunnydale she’d need a job to support herself. We would have found her by now.”

“I refuse to believe my daughter ran away from home,” Joyce choked out. “Even if I did tell her she wasn’t welcome…”

“What about Willie’s?” Xander offered, changing the subject before they could travel down the path of self-loathing and guilt the two adults seem to be indulging themselves in. “Could we go see if there is any news from the demon network that we can try and beat out of him? If so, I wholeheartedly volunteer my services.”

Giles looked at the boy appraisingly. “The demon world has kept tabs on her in the past. I suppose there is a possibility that they may be able to shed some light on the situation—”

“Not to mention the complete lack of vamps around?” Xander cut in abruptly.

“It’s possible that the lack of demon activity can be attributed to the fall of Angelus. Dead or not, he is no longer the Master of Sunnydale, and if you remember, there was a lull in demon activity after the Master’s downfall, too,” Giles explained briefly.

“Wasn’t that because they were planning to resurrect him, though? You don’t think things are so quiet because they’re planning something horrible, do you?” Willow asked quietly.

“Let us hope not. Though, perhaps Willie can provide us with some more definitive answers,” Giles sighed heavily.

“Couldn’t the lack of demons just be a sign that Buffy is still in Sunnydale?” Joyce queried hopefully.

“Or maybe they left because she’s not here anymore!” Cordy put in perkily.

Giles nodded thoughtfully, ignoring Cordelia’s remark entirely, “It’s possible. Although, if she is, it begs the question as to where she is staying, or why she hasn’t contacted us…”


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AN: Thanks to Slackerace for the beta. Also, thank you all for the wonderful reviews you've left so far. I love hearing what you have to say, even if I don't get around to answering them all individually. So, let me know what you think of the chapter :)