Author's note: I know the updates are always posted on a different day, which must be kind of annoying, so I ask you- which day do you readers want an update to be posted? I was actually planning on posting this chapter on friday, but I couldn't wait!!! Sue me. :D

Thanks to my awesome betas and to you kind readers!



This beautiful piece of artwork is a courtesy of nmcil!


Chapter 11


Buffy eased her way out of the first bit of restful sleep she'd had in months. Warmth. Peace. She smiled, still hazy, reality not establishing its impact yet. Comfortable solid weight was pressed against her cheek as she lay on her side. Buffy turned to lie on her back and the weight followed, settling half atop her, its rough fabric rubbing at the skin of her inner thighs. Then the weight caressed her stomach and mumbled. Buffy froze.


Terror settled in the pit of her belly; cold and unyielding. She couldn't move, couldn't scream. Could do nothing but lie there, petrified.


Slowly, Buffy gathered her wits, still not fully conscious of her surroundings as she scooted back and blindly kicked with all her might.


“Bloody Hell!”


Spike wildly glanced around. He was on the floor and his ribs hurt like hell. He rubbed at them and cringed. He was about to start yelling at the attacker when he noticed Buffy crouching on the bed, hugging her knees and rocking back and forth. Dots connected themselves in Spike's head to form a picture of sorrowful understanding.


'She must have thought I was... that I would...'


Spike swallowed and scratched his head, not sure exactly how one approached a situation like this. He rose and winced at his sore ribs, stepping slowly closer. He hovered above her. Should he touch her? Should he leave her be? God, he really needed a smoke right now!


Buffy noticed his presence after her panic had ebbed a little and she focused on Spike's restless fidgeting. She remembered now. She had kicked him. She didn't know at the time that it was him. Too many fresh memories plagued her mind and when she felt a body so close next to her, she had reacted out of instinct. Memory of the night came back to her; the nightmare, how Spike woke her up and held her all night. She didn't mean to hurt him.


“God, Spike, I'm so sorry!”


Spike's eyes widened comically as she knelt on the bed and hugged him, her hands encircling his bare waist, hot breath tickling the skin of his chest. Shivers erupted along his spine and he bit his lip. He tried to squirm away from her when he felt the stirring in his jeans, but Buffy just tightened her hold.


'Bugger.'


“Luv, you might consider letting go before-”


Buffy interrupted him. “Spike!”


“Told you so. See what happens when you-”


“What is that?” She furrowed her brow, and Spike cursed under his breath when her fingers brushed against the top of his buttocks as she searched for something.


“Why are you wearing a knife?” She glanced up at him, her expression puzzled. A strange feeling crept up on her, but she shook it off.


'Huh?' Spike had no idea what she was talking about.


“What knife? I'm not sure I follow you around that bend, kitten.” She fumbled behind his back and there was a tug at his belt. Spike drew in a shaky breath as her hair tickled his belly. Then she scooted backwards and showed him a dagger. The dagger. The one Steve, the horse/dog, had given him. In a dream.


“This doesn't make any sense,” Spike muttered and took the dagger into his hand, turning it around as he inspected the familiar gibberish of an inscription on the short blade.


Buffy stared at the dagger in confusion.


“I think we really need to talk,” Spike said seriously and leaned against the wall behind him.


“I'm sorry I kicked you out of the bed!” Buffy blurted out the first thing that came to mind, blushing when he arched his eyebrow.


“That wasn't the nicest thing to wake up to, but that's not what I wanted to talk about.” A smile crossed his lips.


“Oh. I just thought you were mad at me for the whole kicking you thing. I really didn't mean that! I've just... I'm sorry.” She bowed her head and picked at a nonexistent thread on the red shirt.


“I'm not mad at you. I'm the one who's sorry. I should have known better-”


“No! I just didn't know it was you when I woke up. It startled me, that's all. I sorta... kinda... liked you sleeping next to me.” She glanced up at him as she said it, mortified he'd make fun of her for the last statement.


Spike was tempted to waggle his eyebrows suggestively, but restrained himself. He knew she didn't mean it like that, but it still stroked his ego immensely. He smirked.


“Yeah? We must do it again sometime then. Practice makes perfect and all that” he said huskily and Buffy looked away from him for a moment, all flushed cheeks and fidgeting hands.


“Ehm... What was it that you wanted to talk about?”


“Right. The dagger. I shouldn't have it. I'm not even sure how it got here.”


“What do you mean?” The unsettling feeling intensified. She felt as if she had swallowed a live fish and it was swimming in her stomach.


“Last night. Do you remember anything about the nightmare?” He watched as the colour drained from her cheeks, every muscle in her body tensing the moment he mentioned it. He could have kicked himself for bringing it up, but he didn't have a choice. They had to figure this out.


“Kinda hard not to,” she said in a weak, hushed voice. Her fingers felt numb.


Spike pressed on. “Do you remember me being in it?”


Buffy furrowed her brow, mulling it over in her head and trying to fight through the weird sensation taking over her at the same time. Her eyes snapped to his as the frantic expression of helplessness on his face came back to her.


“Oh, my God! You were there! Are you actually telling me you were there?”


At his nod, Buffy crossed her arms across her chest and stared anywhere but at him. “You weren't supposed to see that.” Her voice trembled with self-disgust and shame.


'All he feels is pity!' A voice hissed within her head.


What should he say? To say that he was sorry was hardly good enough. Should he say that what he saw shook him to his very core? That he'd do anything to trade places with her, take over the burden weighing her down? Would she even believe him?


“I tried to come sooner, but I couldn't find you... There were these bloody corridors and doors, and-”


“Spike! It's okay. It's not your fault. There's nothing you could have done. It was just a dream.” Except she knew it was more than that. It was a memory and somehow Spike managed to be a part of it. Right now, it was clear that he blamed himself for not saving her, no matter how unreasonable the notion was. Buffy watched him pace around the small room, looking forlorn. “Tell me what you saw. What is it about the knife that has you so wigged out?”


“Right. The thing is, this dagger, a bloke in your nightmare gave it to me.”


“That's not possible.”


“That's what I thought, but I'm starting to realize there's no such thing as impossible when it comes to us.” Spike scoffed. “I really wish things made sense, for a change.”


A gasp broke his reverie.


Buffy's face twisted as her stomach rebelled, sickness rising up and digging its sharp teeth into her insides. She doubled over and heaved. Spike knelt on the bed next to her in a split second, dropping the dagger to the floor.


Buffy was shaking, her eyes rolling up in their sockets, her jaw hanging open as she drew in a wheezy breath. Then the vein on her neck stood out visibly, the pulse hammering beneath her skin as her eyes squeezed shut. Spike seized her shoulders, shaking her.


“Buffy! This is not bleeding funny!” He was starting to panic. He had no idea what to do other than stand there and watch. Her fists were clenched so hard that her knuckles were turning white and her teeth gnashed in a visible internal war. Spike tried to relax and focus on her, so he could pick up the thread of their connection and get an inkling of what was happening, but it was weak and he couldn't connect with her if her eyes were closed.

Spike grasped her head and forcibly opened her eyelids with his thumbs, flinching as her clawing nails left rivulets of blood on his wrists and the back of his hands. Her irises were black, blending in with her pupils. Spike stared deeply into her eyes, going deeper and deeper, his frantic thoughts disrupting his concentration. He was bounced back with a tangible force. It felt like a physical blow, but he didn't let go. Spike pushed back the screaming thoughts in his head, shutting them out, and tried again.


A shriek of protest resounded within his mind as he delved deeper, getting hold of the connection. Spike pushed further when he felt the tremor of Buffy's essence, pure and light, amidst the sinister presence of decay. He latched onto it with his mind, mingling with Buffy's essence and holding on for dear life. The demon inside her snarled and clawed, detesting Spike's interference. He put every cell, every single ounce of energy he had to push the demon back. Together with Buffy, they managed to drive it away. For the moment.


The world came rushing back. Blood trickled down Spike's wrists where Buffy's fingernails had dug into them. The drops fell soundlessly, staining the sheets on the bed. Buffy coughed and took in a shuddery breath, her skin sallow and sickly. Spike didn't look much better.


“Are you alright, luv?” Spike brushed a strand of hair back from her clammy forehead with a shaky hand.


“Is it me or something's not right with this picture?” Buffy gasped out, violent tremors wracking her whole body.


“It's the thing... the one you saw in the mirror, innit?”


“I think so. It just took hold of me. I tried to fight it, but I couldn't; it was stronger than me-- and then I felt you-- your strength, and it was gone. Just like that.” Buffy was terrified. It kept gathering more influence over her. What if it took over completely? She'd feel like a prisoner within her own mind forever. She shuddered.


“There has to be some kind of explanation for this!” Spike raked fingers through his hair in frustration.


“It's getting stronger.” Buffy whispered and glanced at him. “What if-”


“No! We'll figure this out. We have to. I have to.” Spike clasped her shoulders. “I promise you! I won't let anything happen to you.”


“What if you can't stop it?”


“Just let me think. There has to be...” A light lit up his eyes and Spike jumped off the bed, gesturing wildly in excitement. “God, I'm so dense! When we were connected, we fought it off... together, right? Maybe that's the key! The link between us.”


“But didn't you say it was incomplete?” Buffy asked dubiously.


“Yes! Maybe that's it. We just complete it and when it snaps in place, it'll purge the demon out. Or at least it'll give us a fighting chance. Balance out the odds in our favour.”


“How would we do it? Complete it?”


Spike's enthusiasm cracked and crumbled. “Well, the strongest connection there is... it's a mating claim.” When he glimpsed the fearful expression on Buffy's face, he backtracked.


“But there is also the blood link... it wouldn't involve us shagging or anything. Just swapping blood and saying a few words.”


Buffy didn't know what shagging meant, but she could guess. “That doesn't sound that bad. You'd bite me and say-”


“Mine.” Spike gazed at her steadily, gauging her reaction. “But that's not all. You'd have to drink my blood and say 'yours'. I'm not really sure how it works exactly, since I've never done it before, but it should do the trick. Link you to me. Give me the power to help you fight it.”


“Let's do this.” Buffy stubbornly set her jaw.


“Wait. Are you sure, luv? This will link you to me, give me power over you.”


“Better you than that thing. I'm sure.” Buffy scooted back on the bed, spurning him to join her.


Spike inhaled sharply at the prospect of tasting her again. He prayed to whoever would listen that he wouldn’t lose control of the situation and betray the trust Buffy was putting in him. He slowly approached the bed, climbed on it and crawled lazily towards her on his hands and knees, irises flickering yellow, but still maintaining his human face.


The closer he got to her, the thicker the air around them became, heavy with anticipation, with tension. Spike sat, leaning his back against the headboard and stretched his jeans clad legs out before him. He gently took Buffy's hand and led her to sit astride him. He wanted to give her the position of power, to let her know she could leave, or tell him no, anytime she felt it was too much.


Her warmth seeped into his flesh with steady intensity, and Spike shivered as he caressed her arms. Stroking up and down to force the tension out of her muscles. The only thing she was wearing was his red shirt, and for the effect it had on him, she could as well be naked. He could feel the blood rushing south and knew Buffy could feel it too, when she squirmed and her cheeks flushed in embarrassment.


'Dear God, she's trying to kill me.'


Spike firmly put a palm on her lower back and urged her closer. Long silky strands of her hair tickled his face, so he swept them off to one side, baring her throat to his hungry gaze. Her heart hammered away in her chest, the echoes reverberating through him. He shifted his hand to the back of her neck and brought her closer to his mouth. She tilted her head to one side to grant him access, breathing heavily in his ear, fearing the pain and craving the closeness of the act at the same time.


“I'm gonna try not to make it hurt, okay? I need you to relax, Buffy.”


“I-I'll try.” She grasped his shoulders and tensed slightly when Spike's tongue sneaked out and traced a wet path along her neck. She forced herself to relax in his hold, falling into him as Spike gently sucked on her neck with his lips and tongue, moaning at the salty taste of her skin. He kept up the pressure, getting blood closer to the surface while massaging Buffy's back in reassuring circles.


Buffy heard the sound of shifting bones and could feel his bumpy forehead brushing against her skin a spare second before the sharp fangs slid into her jugular. It hurt so good. It felt as if they were one being. One beginning where the other ended, forming a full circle of perfect awareness.


Spike drew in a mouthful of her blood, expecting the smooth hot sweetness to flood his taste buds, but what he tasted was anything but sweet. Foul, acidic liquid filled his mouth and he turned his head to the side, spitting it promptly out, coughing and sputtering. Black dense liquid soaked into the comforter, ropes of it smearing Spike's chin and lips. Buffy raised her head and looked at the comforter, shock taking over her features. She climbed off Spike's lap hurriedly and held a hand to her bleeding throat. Her hand came away red. They stared at each other.


“Well, bugger. That didn't go as planned at all,” Spike said and wiped at his mouth with an already soiled sheet. Buffy's eyes fixed on the black spot, spreading like a poison. They got off the bed at the same time and Spike tugged off the sheets, balled them up and tossed them into the corner. He sighed in exasperation. “Could things get any worse?”


Buffy snapped her eyes to his, looking at him in disbelief. “What did you say that for?” Her voice was shrill.


“What are you talk-”


Knock! Knock!


Silence. Confusion. Spike and Buffy traded a long gaze. Sweat broke out on Buffy's skin, her hands trembled. She knew he shouldn't have said that. She had no idea who it was, but she didn't want to find out. Didn't want to think about the possibility that Lukas had found her, that she wouldn't be able to do anything to stop him. Buffy sent a pleading look at Spike, but he was already moving towards the door, his fingers closing around the doorknob.


“Spike... no!” Terror and pleading laced her voice, but it was already too late. Spike had opened the door. Buffy couldn't see his expression, but he just stood there, slack and uncharacteristically still. In a moment of searing dread she thought the visitor was Lukas, that Spike had been his accomplice this whole time. Leading her into the trap veiled by a deceptive safety. There was no place for reason. Just her pounding heart and cold sweat trickling down her spine.


Spike turned to her, his face unreadable, his voice carrying a note of disbelief as he said, “Buffy, meet my friend.”


TBC


Author's note: Thoughts? Questions? Opinions? I love replying to them all, so don't be shy and leave a review! You wouldn't believe what it does to my enthusiasm for writing more. In case you're wondering- yes I'm bribing! :D