*****

Standing under the tree in the Summers' front yard, Spike lit up yet another cigarette and inhaled deeply, the warm air in his lungs a bitter reminder of his undead status.

Blowing out the smoke angrily he continued to stare up at the Slayer’s room. The light was on and he knew she was awake. If she was cutting herself again he would kill her. Stupid bint had sliced open a vein during her last stint and tried to pass it off as just a scratch.

A bloody scratch.



He shook his head, trying to shake out the memories of their last meeting. He still had the marks across his chest, the scratches from her nails, the bruises from her teeth, her lips, her vicious mouth.

Not that he wanted to forget it, he simply wanted to change it.

To change her, to make her Buffy again.



Buffy watched from the bathroom window as Spike stood impossibly still under the old tree in the yard.

She knew he was there, she knew he knew that she knew. God, Dawn and Willow would probably know too if he didn’t quit stalking her.

It wasn’t as though they were in a relationship, or even as if she even liked him.

Buffy knew that she had used him for sex. For pleasure.

However disgusting and depraved her friends may find it, it was a good thing in her eyes. She could control exactly when, where and how things happened and there was nothing he could do or say to change it, because for once in her miserable existence, Buffy was in control.

And he certainly knew how to make her forget all her problems.

He even made her legs forget how to work.



Having slept all day, and most of the evening, Buffy found herself wandering around her bedroom and bathroom.

The excess energy she had needed to be burnt off, and with Spike waiting under the tree, it was just too easy.

She wouldn't go to him when he was waiting, she would go when it suited her.

She wanted to go out and patrol, but couldn’t be bothered to dress herself and make the effort. And besides, if she went out, she would have to face Spike. Facing Spike would probably lead to more sex, and that wasn't what she wanted right now.

She wanted pain and Spike knew it.



He knew her dirty little secret.

He knew that she cut herself, hell; he’d probably have read half a dozen self-help books today just to try and help her. She didn’t need help, nor did she want it.

She was perfectly in control of what she was doing. She was just punishing herself, the way others couldn’t.

Her friends, her family, her lovers, they all left her. Each one with a different reason as to why Buffy wasn’t good enough for them to stick around.



Why Buffy wasn’t good enough as a daughter, a girlfriend, a slayer, a friend, a sister, a person.



But this, this was her own punishment.

She could control every single thing about it. And that was why she was now sitting in her bathroom, a pair of scissors jutting from her inner thigh while blood seeped onto the black shirt underneath her, her face strangely serene as her thoughts, worries and cares were chased away by the exquisite beauty of her punishment.



Smelling her blood in the air, Spike knew it must be a deep cut to have produced this much blood. Climbing up the tree and making his way across the roof ledge to her room, Spike climbed inside, pushing open the bathroom door.



“What the fuck have you done?” He growled in her ear, knowing Nibblet and the Wicca were asleep in the house.

Taking charge of the situation when she refused to respond, he snapped the scissors in half, throwing them out the open window and using the blood soaked black shirt to bind the open wound.

Seeing the calm mask fade from her face, slowly replaced by slow and sleepy panic, Spike picked Buffy up in his arms, taking her to her bed and tucking her in.



Once the covers were pulled up to her chin, he perched beside her, his hand holding her down and tenderly stroking the hard lines of her face until they relaxed, once again leaving behind a beautiful yet vulnerable looking girl.



Not wanting to repeat the mistakes he made last time, Spike stayed awake all night, not wanting to leave her side for any reason.

When the orange hues of sunrise began to creep through the window, Spike reluctantly left the bed, pulling the heavy curtains across the window, guarding him from the harmful rays as he once again made himself comfortable at her side.



Peeking her head around her sister’s door, Dawn was shocked to see a platinum head resting beside Buffy’s.

Shutting the door as silently as she had opened it, the teen pumped her fist into the air, not wanting to wake anybody else with her excitement. Practically skipping down the stairs, Dawn sang to herself as she prepared her breakfast, making sure she had all of her schoolbooks in her bag before she left.

She was going to work hard this quarter, get good grades, make Buffy happy, make Giles proud of her, make Spike help her.

She shrugged as she made her way round the block to Janice’s house. If her sister was using him as a pillow, then what was wrong with Dawn using him as a tutor?



-



Waking up when the growling in her stomach became to intense to ignore, Buffy was astounded to find Spike’s head next to hers on her pillow. Lying and watching his dead body was fascinating to Buffy.

Was that what she looked like when she was dead? Was she pale and unmoving while life went on without her? Did her skin wrinkle or dry out like on those gross documentaries?



Pushing herself away from him, she sat up, her fingers tenderly pressing on the scabbed wounds on her leg. She frowned at them, counting them trying to remember when she had done the last eight.

She remembered sitting in the bathroom, watching Spike out of the window as he smoked under the tree, she had picked up the scissors, and reopened an old wound, watching the blood seep out of her, her life force dripping away, she definitely didn’t remember cutting a chunk of flesh out of her leg, or carving herself up.



“Spike.” She shoved him as hard as she could.

Apparently, being thrown off the bed was a good way to wake up a vampire because he was on his feet before he even hit the ground, his reflexes almost feline as he looked around.



“What the fuck was that for?” He demanded, his head tilting towards her as he leant against the wall, a safe distance away from her volatile temper.



“What happened last night?” She bit out, her bottom lip sucked into her mouth as she silently pleaded to whoever was listening that they hadn’t done anything.



“I saved your fuckin’ life.” Spike growled, the scent of her blood assailing him, “Again.”

He stalked over to her, pulling up the oversized shirt she was wearing to see the drop of blood run down her leg, over her knee towards the ground. Wiping it away with his finger he stuck the finger into his mouth and sucked it clean.

“If you don’t want this sweet ambrosia, then don’t even think about wasting it,” he silenced her with a wave of his hand, “You come to me, I’ll make sure it hurts.” And with that he was gone, her door swinging in his absence as he sought refuge in her basement.





*****





Going down the stairs, Buffy winced at every step. She really needed to eat something more substantial. Taking an apple and a bottle of water, she shut the basement door, which someone had left ajar, Dawn probably, and made her way to the sofa, switching on the television and flicking though the channels.



The doorbell interrupted Buffy as she watched some lame chat show. Setting her water on the coffee table, she made her way to the door. No one ever rang the bell at this house. Peering through the small windows, Buffy was surprised to see a strange middle aged woman peering back. Opening the door, Buffy put on her best smile.



“Hello?” She greeted cautiously. The woman didn’t smile back. Shaking the hand offered to her, Buffy allowed the woman to introduce herself as Mrs Kroger. When the woman looked appalled that she didn’t recognise her, she handed her a folder with Department of Child Welfare stamped on it. Blanching, Buffy leant back against the door, fighting a wave of nausea. This was a social worker.



“Miss Summers.” The social worker greeted making no effort to disguise the hostility in her voice.



“Come in.” Buffy invited, determined not to mess this up. Dawn was one thing she was determined not to lose.



Gesturing at the sofa, Buffy was ignored while Mrs Kroger snooped at all the photographs and statues in the room. Her offers of tea and coffee being declined, Buffy sat upright on the chair, watching while Mrs Kroger leafed through her briefcase to the right papers. Pulling out another file, she opened it up and perched it on her lap. Pushing her glasses up her nose she frowned.



“Do you live here alone?”



“Yeah, yes.” Buffy corrected herself quickly. “Me and Dawn.”



She had just closed her mouth when a door slammed and Spike came strolling through the house towards her.



“Seen my lighter pet?” He called, stepping into the living room. Stopping to frown at the strange woman, Spike noticed Buffy trying to shoo him with her eyes.



“Your boyfriend I presume?” Mrs Kroger’s voice was almost gleeful.



“No. No, he’s just a close friend who stops by to make sure we’re ok.” Buffy lied, She turned to Spike with a sickly sweet voice, “And we are, so thanks for stopping by.”



Taking the hint, Spike went back to the basement, sticking his fingers up at the Slayer when he was out of sight and snatching up a box of matches from beside the cooker as he went.

Buffy heaved a sigh of relief when she heard a door shut behind him, only to be startled again when Willow came jogging down the stairs, tossing a cheery hello over her shoulder as she left via the front door.



“And that was?” Mrs Kroger asked in a sugary sweet voice.



“Another friend?” Buffy voice was small, apologetic. “She stays over sometimes, helps with Dawn’s homework.”



“Can you not help with Dawn’s homework?”



“I do my best, but Willow had like a 10.0gpa. She also helps with- erm, why don’t we talk about Dawn?” Mrs Kroger nodded smartly, writing something down on her folder while she fired question after question.





-



Spike sat on the washing machine, the rumbling not troubling him as he listened to what was being said upstairs. Stupid bitch needed a fuckin’ railroad spike jammed through her head if she thought taking Nibblet away was gonna solve all the problems. Buffy would probably go catatonic again, and that’s all they needed with these fucking stupid pranks someone was playing on the Slayer.



Testing her and all that shit, what a load of bollocks that was. It was probably some stupid gits with nothing better to do than mess with his Slayer.



Hearing the old cow leave, Spike stomped up the stairs, catching Buffy in his arms as she leant backwards. Shoving him away from her she busied herself, straightening the room.

Watching her fool herself, Spike became more and more pissed off by the second. What was she? The bloody bot? Walking around stiff as her fuckin’ Watcher while she primped and preened while underneath he knew she couldn’t feel a thing. She had come back different and there was no way she could ever emerge from whatever the hell she was going through unchanged.





*****





Dawn skipped up the steps and into the house, a song in her heart. Instead of being greeted by her teenage fantasy played out in colour before her eyes, the house was empty as usual, the only sign of Buffy was the clumps of long blonde hair that littered the floor.



Wait, why the hell would Buffy be without her hair?



She wouldn't even let Dawn play with her hair when they were kids so whatever had happened to Buffy to have that much hair on the floor was probably really, really bad.



This question was answered as Buffy opened the door and almost walked right into Dawn. Looking up at her little sister, she appeared almost shy as she ran a hand through her shorn locks. Buffy had chopped her hair right up to her chin, little wispy bits framed her painfully gaunt face and the colour held a certain amount of shine and bounce that had been missing since her return.

Maybe this was just what she needed, some time to herself to get pampered and to look good Dawn thought, relief that her sister was alright flooding through her.



“Looks great.” She told her sincerely, a smile on her face as she reached over to hug her big sister. The hurt on her face was almost too much for Buffy to bear when she tried to pull back before Dawn could hug her. Giving in and allowing herself a moment of comfort, she pushed down the guilt and hugged back, a single tear making its way down Dawn’s face.



Making his way out the basement, Spike was greeted with something he had only dreamed about for well over a year. Buffy was facing him, her eyes closed, a look of contentment on her face and her arms were around Dawn, her thin fingers holding on to the fabric of Dawn’s jacket as if her life depended on how tight she held.

Or not, seeing as Spike knew damn well that Buffy wanted anything but to live. Her every move made it painfully obvious to him just how desperate she was to get back to heaven. If it wasn't such a sin to commit suicide, the Slayer would probably have tried it, just to get back to Heaven.



Slipping back into the basement, he eased the door shut behind him not wanting to disturb their moment of bonding or whatever they were doing. He would ask her about her haircut later.





Hearing the click of the basement door behind her, Buffy tensed, allowing herself to pull away from Dawn and turning to investigate.



“Spike?” She called, turning the handle forcefully, only to find it had snapped off in her hand. Discarding the handle on the counter, she pulled out the pin that used to hold the handle in place and opened the door, being bowled over by Spike as he made his way out.

Righting the Slayer, Spike blew a mouthful of stale smoke at her just to piss her off before covering himself with a blanket he had found in the basement and sauntering out the back door.



No reason for him to stick around now that she was all pally with little sis now was there? Let the monster hold her all night and throw him away come daylight. Just a bit of cold comfort from the demon she claimed to despise.

They would never be able to fully immerse themselves in each other’s world. No matter how hard he tried he wouldn't fit in her world, nor she in his, nothing short of saving her from herself would be good enough.



She was a fallen angel, he could practically see her wings when he caught her in a rare moment of peace. When she looked at peace with herself, it was like staring at the sun. A blindingly beautiful wonder, something he would never forget, as long as he lived.





Staring at the kitchen door, Dawn wondered what the hell Buffy had done to upset Spike while she had been at school.

Surely sleeping together, even if it wasn't in the sexual sense-- which she was pretty sure it was-- meant that they had overcome their differences and were trying to start a something, maybe even a relationship.



Watching Buffy lock the door behind him, running her hands through her short hair, Dawn kept silent, slipping away to write in her journal. Writing things down often made you see them in a different light, and maybe that's all she needed. To see how Buffy and Spike needed help so she could push them both in the right direction.





Turning to see that Dawn had left, Buffy sank down on to a stool in relief.



Her legs were throbbing like they had been sat on by an eight-hundred pound Chirago demon and her head was just as bad.



Swallowing some painkillers with the last of her water, she wandered back into the lounge, settling herself on the sofa with the remote in her hand, watching one black and white romantic film after another until she fell asleep.





*****





Awaking on the cold hard concrete floor of the upstairs of his crypt, Spike sat up, the empty bottle of Jack rolling off his chest with a hollow clatter. Wiping at his eyes he frowned. He certainly didn't remember getting from Willie's to here.



Standing up and stretching, he noticed the familiar smell lingering in the air. Sometime during the afternoon, the Slayer had been in his crypt.



That almost certainly solved the question of how did he get from Willie’s. Peering out of the door, he figured the sun must have set in the last few minutes, the rosy glow of the sky fading into darkness as he watched that familiar figure come strolling his way.



Seeing Spike standing at the entrance to his crypt, Buffy slowed her pace, wanting to get to Spike, but not wanting to appear eager. After finding him snoozing in a corner up against the bar she had dragged him back to his crypt and dumped him on the floor, the idea that had settled in her head when she set off to find him had niggled its way into her conscience and she found herself doubting it from every angle.

No matter how she thought of it, letting a master vampire bite her wouldn't be a very Slayer-like thing to do.



So she had dumped him in his crypt and fled, only working up the courage to return after she had remembered how good he promised to make it feel.



"Evenin' pet." Spike drawled as she drew nearer. Sensing her hesitancy, he smiled sincerely as she returned his greeting, passing him her axe and pointing to a demon to the side of his crypt.



Standing back and watching Spike deal with the Flrarosks demon, she pushed out all the negative thoughts of what she wanted to happen and focused on what Spike had promised her.

He wouldn't lie to her and he would never back down on a promise. He loved her and that was that. He had promised to make it hurt and that was all she was interested in.



"All done." He practically skipped back to his crypt, leaving the door open behind him for her to follow him inside."What brings you 'round?" He asked curiously, surely he had done something to merit a personal visit from Buffy.



"I- um." She smiled,"Got anything to drink?"



Producing a half full bottle of whisky from under a rug, he proceeded to make comfy seats for the either side of the bottle, putting two shot glasses out and indicating where to sit.



"So pet? Care to share?"



Knocking back the whisky that had filled her glass she shook her head, trying to shake away the sweet burning in her throat.



"Would you make it hurt?" She whispered, almost making him choke on his own drink. Setting down his glass, he tilted his head, looking intently at the blonde in front of him, almost as if he was trying to figure out if she was the bot or not.

Seeing a scarlet blush race across her cheeks, he kept his face neutral, trying to figure out how the hell he was going to get out of something he said in a bout of rage.



He wouldn't hurt Buffy for all the world, she was everything to him and there was no way he would bite her and turn her. She would never forgive him, Dawn would never forgive him and quite surprisingly, he would never forgive himself.



How could one justify unleashing the terror of his kind on such an innocent life, someone who had been sworn to eradicate the earth of his kind would not be very forgiving when they awoke as one, no matter how desperately she may cling to the notion of death.



Her soul would never return to heaven if he were to take his life as she were asking him to. Stupid nancyboy William would never let him anyway.



"Spike?" Buffy whispered, helping herself to more false courage,"Please?"



"I can't." He whispered, dropping his eyes to his hands, poetry running through his mind to identify with the myriad of emotions racing through him.



"Please?" She begged,"Just take a little."



"A little?" He cocked his head to the side, lifting his eyes to meet hers,"You don't want me to..."



"No!" She swallowed her fear and shook away the sweet burn in her throat."Just a small bite."



Now this was something Spike could do, without having to think about what William would think. He would just be doing as he was told, not really a new concept for someone to in love with the slayer.



Holding out his arms, he shifted to his burgeoning erection as she slipped across the sarcophagus and into his waiting arms, the rug he had provided wrapped around her legs as she leaned into his surprisingly warm embrace.



Waiting until she had made herself comfortable in his lap, he began to slowly nuzzle and kiss her neck, murmuring soft words of comfort as his lips skated across the taut and unblemished side of her neck savouring every possible memory of her skin. The feel, the smell, the intoxicating blood pumping beneath.

Knowing that unless he wanted a stake in the heart from Buffy, Xander and whoever else was probably lined up to kill him for daring to touch her, he would need to bite lower than the neck, he slid down the large cowl neck of her cream pullover and before she could change her mind, he slid his fangs effortlessly into her shoulder.



Feeling a sharp prick, she tightened her grip on the rug in her lap, assuming that his fangs must have pierced her skin but strangely enough, couldn't bring herself to care. She felt warm and she felt loved, but better than any of that. She felt free.



Free from mortal constraints and daily worries, free from guilt and shame. She was floating in the soft embrace of William the Bloody, renowned Slayer killer and she felt better than she had since being called as the Slayer.



She almost felt as if she was back in heaven, her eyes had drifted shut the moment his fangs pierced her skin and as he felt her grow accustomed to the intrusion, he sucked hard, the pull on the wound an exquisite pain compared to the pain she had experienced at her own hands. She didn't only feel free, she felt as if the world was slipping away beneath her and for once, there was no one to judge her.





*****





Willow watched out of the window as Buffy sneaked up the garden path, coming from the direction of Spike's graveyard seeing as she was entering from the back of the house.



Willow knew that Buffy was spending a lot of her time with Spike since she had returned. It made sense really, he was the only person she knew that had experienced death, and for a corpse, he was surprisingly lively when he wanted to be.

Xander was always with Anya, and she herself had better things to do than sit around and wait for Buffy to cheer up and get back to normal, and now that Amy was around, it was much better to be doing magic with someone more her level.



Not that she didn't miss Tara, she just didn't miss being criticised for being better than everyone else.



Hearing the door shut as Buffy went straight to bed, Willow pulled back the curtains, slipping out the front door as silently as she could and making her way downtown to see Rack without having Amy tag along and steal half of the borrowed power.





Lying in her bed, Buffy left the covers pooled around her feet, knowing that no one would bother her in her room. No one really bothered her anymore.



She lay awake for what seemed like endless hours hearing Spike’s parting words floating around in her mind;



“Love the haircut, Goldilocks”


Tenderly feeling the twin scabs on her neck, rubbing her fingers over them, which somehow made her womb tingle in anticipation. It was like getting horny in an instant. Re-arranging her panties she continued to caress her own neck, remembering how it felt when he bit her.

Even the way he licked it closed after he was done was sensual.

It was practically foreplay in its own right.



Feeling the wounds drew her thoughts away from what she was doing to herself. She had started of cutting herself because she was fat and ugly and stupid. Now she was giving that power to Spike, allowing him to hurt her because she was fat and ugly and stupid.

How did she give that power to Spike? The one person that she honestly felt wouldn't judge her, wouldn't attempt to control her and now she had given him that control.



He controlled how much she hurt, how often she could escape her life. That simply wasn't good enough. She would have to take back that power, to make it so that Spike was once again, a pawn in her hands, something for her to control and to judge like everyone did to her.



It wasn't all about the pain, or even about hurting herself to actually feel something for a change.

It was about taking control of her life.

Being in charge of something that she could not only control, but she could also keep to herself.

Something that she didn't have to share with anyone else. Willow, Xander, not even Dawn needed to know.





Knocking on Buffy's door, Dawn pushed it open slowly, half hoping to find Buffy and Spike in bed. Disappointed to see her sister alone, she called her name repeatedly.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed she picked up Buffy's hand, holding it in her own, marvelling at the size of her hand in comparison to her own. Either she was growing at a rapid pace, or Buffy was actually shrinking.



"Buffy?" She called softly, pushing a lock of hair away from her face,"Wake up."



"Dawn?" Buffy murmured groggily, opening her eyes and squinting at her little sister.



"We're out of food. You need to go shopping." Dawn smiled, her face looking tired and old."Today."



"M- kay." Buffy muttered, sitting up and pulling up the covers. She smiled sincerely at Dawn, a strange feeling blossoming inside her. Impulsively hugging her, Dawn swallowed her tears and pulled away. Trying hard to keep her smile, she walked away, grabbing her school bag from the stairs and closing the door quietly behind her.





Taking the initiative to get up out of bed, Buffy was left marvelling at the amount of energy she seemed to have. Remembering a time when getting up in the morning was easy she smiled, having her mom around would simple things up so much. She knew that there was no way she could ever have that old life back, she didn’t really want her old life.

That was what her friends were trying to do now, trying so hard to put her back into that old life, the one where death was something that was so far in the future it didn’t bear thinking about.



Buffy didn’t fit in that box anymore and after what she had experienced with Spike she didn’t think she ever wanted to go back to being that person.



Souls had no bearing on a person or their choices, government chips had just as much effect. Spike had shown her just how good life could be if she let go of what she had ever known and had a little faith. Thinking of Faith made her smile, she would have loved to see Buffy give over to the dark side, sleeping with unsouled and somewhat dangerous vampires just to feel good about herself.



Making a note to write to her sister Slayer, Buffy headed to the shower, humming a tune as she went, feeling better than she had in years.

All it took to feel good was sex and bites with Spike. Who’da thunk it?



Certainly not her or her friends she thought with a smile, pulling the shower curtain across her and turning away from a pair of scissors she spied on the side.


TBC...