~Chapter Two~

Spike set the unconscious Slayer down on his bed and quickly removed her boots and blood-soaked outfit. Filling a bowl with water, he set about methodically washing the viscous fluid from her body. Celtor blood was highly toxic to humans, usually proving fatal within minutes. Thankfully, it seemed his girl was fighting it.

At least he hoped she was.

Buffy’s lips were tinged slightly blue and her skin was deathly pale. Concentrating on cleaning her stomach wound, Spike tried desperately to ignore the sound of her ragged breathing and faltering heartbeat. Spike’s own body ached in sympathy when he saw the five inch gash that marred the smooth skin of her stomach, the torn edges tinted an angry shade of red. He sighed in relief when he noticed the wound had almost stopped bleeding. Slowly lowering his head, Spike lapped gently at the cut to seal it. A grimace formed on his face when the liquid touched his tongue. Beneath the sweet, intoxicating ambrosia that was slayer blood lay the unmistakable taste of the toxin in her bloodstream.

“God, damn it, Buffy,” he said, smoothing the hair back from her sweaty forehead. “You’ve got to fight this. Do you hear me, sweetheart?” Spike pressed a damp cloth to her brow, softly stroking the apple of her cheek with his thumb. “Come on, luv,” he whispered. “Wake up and show me those beautiful green eyes.” He studied Buffy’s face intently, searching for any flicker or sign that she had heard him. “Why’d you have to be so stubborn, huh?” He sighed. “You couldn’t have just listened to me.” I suppose that’s hardly surprising, he thought, taking her hand in his and feeling responsible for her current condition.

The noticeable coolness of Buffy’s skin, even against his own low temperature, scared him dreadfully. Raising her hand to his mouth, he pressed a lingering kiss against her delicate fingers. Closing his eyes, Spike sent a silent prayer to a God who had long since forsaken him.

Please, please don’t take her from me.

“Stay with me, Buffy,” he said, as tears brimmed his bloodshot eyes. “You can’t leave me. I need you...I need you with me. You have to fight this... I’ll fight with you, luv, I swear I will. Just...please...I can’t--“

Spike was interrupted as violent tremors began to rack the Slayer’s petite frame. Clad in just her underwear, Buffy’s skin was covered in goosebumps from the cool air of the crypt. Spike drew his t-shirt over his head and quickly dressed her before climbing under the covers and pulling her into his arms. There was no choice but to let the poison run its course.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered into her hair. “I wish there was more I could do.”

Buffy appeared to mould her body to his as a pained whimper fell from her lips. Holding her tightly, sharing whatever warmth he possessed, Spike continued to talk to her as the shivers slowly abated and her skin lost its sickly pallor. Gradually, Buffy’s breathing evened out and her heartbeat became a regular cadence. Satisfied her life was no longer in immediate danger, Spike heaved a sigh of relief and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.

Buffy’s healing powers had saved her. Now it was just a matter of time before she woke up. A small part of his brain told him he should contact her mother and watcher, who were no doubt worrying about her absence. Spike knew, however, that if he did, his crypt would soon be overrun by pissed off scoobies, and one way or another, they would take his girl away from him.

Not soddin’ likely.

His demon wouldn’t allow it. No bloody way was he going to stand by and watch the woman he loved be carried away. Holding Buffy’s tiny body closer, he made himself comfortable, keeping his constant vigil over the little slayer who had stolen his long dead heart.




Buffy was floating in an abyss of sensation. The debilitating pain from the demon’s attack was lessening, allowing her mind to begin processing her thoughts and emotions. She awoke in stages, her entire body aching and the pressure in her head forcing her eyes to remain closed as her remaining senses worked overtime to process her environment. A low rumbling voice was the first thing to permeate her muddled thoughts. Unable to process the words or meanings, it faded into a comforting background hum.

The heat was getting to Buffy, until a cool palm pressed against her forehead. She moaned in relief as an overwhelming sense of security enveloped her. Gentle fingers stroked her arms; the forbidden aroma of cigarettes and whiskey filtered through to her brain and she finally connected the dots. The lulling voice and hard, cool chest she lay against belonged to Spike.

She was alive because of Spike.

Gathering her strength, Buffy focused her remaining energies on the continuous words that were spilling from the oblivious vampire’s mouth. So lost in his own thoughts, he never noticed that the girl in his arms was stirring.

“--time I saw you. You were dancing in the Bronze. The light hit you just right, and you were glorious, kitten. I remember thinking even back then, you were something special.” Spike chuckled softly. “Over a century, I was with Dru, then one look at you and I was lost. Denied it of course. Told myself it was wrong. I’m a master vampire for Christ’s sake! Shouldn’t have felt that way about a Slayer...I was supposed to kill you, not fall in love with you.”

Remaining still against his chest, careful not to betray her waking, Buffy let herself consider his words. I know how you feel, Spike.

“Never could kill you, pet,“ he said, smoothing his hands down to rest at the small of her back. “Would never hurt my girl...if you’d only let me prove it to you. I know you’re afraid, Buffy. I was too--bloody terrified to be honest. I just wish you’d give me a chance.” Heaving a deep sigh, Spike placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “How can I make you see how damn good we could be together?”

Swallowing hard, Buffy blinked back her tears, wishing she could reach out and comfort him, listening as he laid out his thoughts and feelings, unaware that she was hearing every heartfelt word.

“I know you don’t believe me, sweetheart,” he said, teasing his fingers through her golden hair, “but I swear, one day I’m gonna prove that I really do love you.”

You already have.

The words clawed at her throat, desperate to be heard. Spike took her right hand in his, entwining their fingers and holding it against his chest. Buffy felt him drop a soft kiss into her hair as she drifted back to sleep, clutching tightly to the hand of her saviour; her lifeline.

Her vampire.




It was several hours later that Buffy awoke nestled against Spike’s side. The slight tenderness of her stomach was the only witness to the trauma of the previous night. Gotta love those slayer healing powers, she thought. Bringing a cautious hand to her abdomen, she traced the uneven scar with her fingers before resting her hand against Spike’s toned stomach.

Evidently, Spike had removed her bloodied clothes and she realised that she was wearing one of his black t-shirts. He’d left her underwear on, and Buffy smiled as she pictured the matching set she’d slipped on before her patrol, not remotely concerned that Spike had seen them up close and personal.

Gee, way to prioritise, Buffy! Need some, much?

Shaking her head at the direction her mind was heading, Buffy turned and raised her head to study the sleeping vampire, smiling at the contented expression on his face. Spike’s left arm was stretched behind his head, and what could only be described as a purr, rumbled through his chest. A strong arm tightened around her waist, and Spike shifted his body towards her warmth.

Even in his sleep, he still seeks me out, she thought, slowly tracing his defined stomach muscles with her fingers. My God, the man’s like a Greek statue!

Buffy never had the opportunity to really look at him before. Her mind saw the demon and automatically applied the convenient labels.

Vampire. Soulless. Evil.

But as she lay there, secure in the arms of her mortal enemy, Buffy allowed herself to see Spike for what he truly was. No, he didn’t have a soul, but Spike didn’t need one in order to be good. His ability to love, unique among vampires, surpassed it. Buffy knew that Spike would stay true to his word and never abandon her. He would stand by her side every step of the way, whereas Angel had made with the cryptic messages and then left her.

For her own good.

A brilliant smile lit up her features, as Buffy realised there was no comparison between the two vampires.

Spike loved her without a soul. Angel couldn’t love her enough with one.

Everybody in her life had placed her on a pedestal, a shining example of all that was good in the world. They were always judging her. Always so quick to criticise, never allowing her the chance to just be Buffy Anne Summers.

Everyone, that is, except the master vampire sleeping beside her.

Why should she be held to higher standards than the rest of the population? She saved the world on a regular basis. Didn’t she deserve to be happy for a change? Buffy was sick of trying for that elusive, normal existence. Danger and death were her normality, and if last night had shown her anything, it was that her life could come to an end at any moment. Buffy was determined to make the most of whatever time she had remaining, she was going to put her own wants and needs first for a change. Starting with the man she had denied for so long.




Spike awoke slowly, bathed in warmth and surrounded by the sweet vanilla scent of his dream girl. Bloody hell, I must be dreamin’ again, he thought. Refusing to open his eyes, lest she disappear from his arms, Spike listened to the steady thrum of a feminine heartbeat, as gentle fingers traced the chiselled lines of his cheekbones before travelling up to tease the unruly curls on his head. Soft lips brushed against his cheek, and he was suddenly wide awake, staring into the luminous gaze of the woman he adored.

“Buffy--“

Spike was silenced as a delicate finger pressed against his lips. “You saved my life,” she whispered, casting herself astride his slim hips, the evidence of his arousal trapped between them, encased in its denim prison. A gasp escaped his lips and his hands shot to Buffy’s waist, stilling her movement, “Sweetheart, please...” he groaned. ”You don’t have to do this if you aren’t... Buffy, you don’t owe me anything.”

Shut up you stupid sod! Spike’s demon screamed. Do you want her to stop?

Of course he didn’t want her to stop. This was Spike’s favourite fantasy, the Slayer seducing him, but there was too much riding on this moment and he needed her to be sure. Love her too bloody much to do this half-assed. Spike knew that one taste of heaven would never be enough to satisfy him, and if this went ahead, there was no way he would ever let her go. He couldn’t bear the idea of being something she regretted. A mistake made in a moment of weakness.

He had to offer her a way out. “I don’t want you doing anything because of some messed up sense of gratitude.”

“I know,” she said, “and that’s not what this is about.” Buffy inhaled deeply and stared into his awe-filled eyes. “This isn’t easy for me, Spike. It’s just that...well...I guess I finally woke up.” Spike smiled affectionately, as Buffy frowned, wrinkling her nose at her unintentional pun. “I don’t want to hide from this anymore,” she said. “I want you.”

Spikes look of utter disbelief faded as a wave of guilt washed over his chiselled features. “Last night... I was pushing you too hard,” he mumbled. “I just wanted you to see...” Casting his eyes downward in shame, he said quietly, “It’s my fault you got hurt.”

“That’s not true,” she said, bringing his eyes to hers. “I should have listened to you. I was being all stubborn Buffy--okay, maybe not just last night,” she said apologetically when Spike raised an accusing eyebrow. “My point being that even though you were pushing me, everything you said...you were right.” The shock was written all over his expressive features, and Buffy’s smile grew to its radiant best.

“Fetch a pen, luv. Gonna get you to write that one down,” he said, cocky facade now safely back in place. Buffy’s actions were tempting him to hope in a way he had never allowed himself previously. Spike couldn’t help the joyous chuckle which spilt forth from his lips, earning him a playful swat against his chest. “Oh I see, can’t keep your hands off my tight little bod, huh, pet?”

From Buffy’s position, she could tell there was nothing little about Spike’s body, but decided against mentioning it. Spike’s ego was big enough already.

“I heard you...last night,” she said nervously, watching the smirk slip from his lips. Spike ducked his head in uncharacteristic shyness. “I was pretty out of it for a while there, but I heard you...talking to me.”

“I thought you were asleep,” he said. “Didn’t know you were listenin’...wasn’t really talkin’ to you. It was more like...talkin’ to myself.” Buffy reached down to cup his chin, forcing his eyes to meet hers. “I almost lost you last night,” he whispered. “I don’t know what I’d have done if...”

Buffy’s heart clenched when she saw the desolation cloud his eyes “It was all true, Spike,” she said. “Every word. I was so afraid of myself and what people would think that I panicked. I didn’t know how to justify having feelings for a soulless vampire. What did that say about me?” Buffy was unable to miss the hurt that flashed across his features. “I was scared and I fought against it, tried to convince myself that you couldn’t love me.”

“I noticed,” he said dryly, though he was unable to hide the slight grin that curled his lips. “What are you saying, Buffy?” he asked, unneeded breath catching in his lungs.

“I’m saying that I believe you,” she said softly, leaning forward until scarce inches separated their upper bodies. “And I’m not afraid anymore, Spike.”

Reaching up, he cupped her cheeks in his palms and gently pulling her face down to his, he gazed into her eyes, looking through to her very soul.

“Would you still run, if I told you I loved you?” he said, combing his right hand through her honey blonde tresses. A tender smile graced Buffy’s lips as she nuzzled into his palm, her eyes returning his gaze.

“Would you still chase me if I did?”

Immediately, Spike closed the distance and caught her lips in a fervent embrace, his arms fell to wrap around her tiny body, holding her tighter as he deepened the kiss. Breaking apart to allow her to breathe, Spike whispered against her parted lips, “Till the end of the world.”


TBC