Chapter Five

Buffy’s stubborn refusal to talk to either one of them about what had taken place during her fight with William the Bloody had both Giles and Angel fuming. The Watcher and the vampire took turns badgering her about exactly what the blond vamp had said and done to make her so sure he wasn’t trying to kill her, and her own inability to understand herself why she felt she could trust Spike’s word leant a defensive edge to her voice.

“Look, I’ve told you what I know. He acted almost like he knew me from somewhere. He said he didn’t want to kill me yet, and then he…” Common sense left no doubt that telling either of the angry listeners that Spike had sort of Sort of! It was just almost a kiss!I kissed her before fleeing was something to be avoided at all costs and she stopped her recitation of the conversation at the point where the vamp had said she was the one who slayed the monsters.

“He called himself a monster?” Angel’s voice dripped with disbelief. “That doesn’t sound like Spike. That’s not how he sees himself.”

“He didn’t call himself a monster; he said that I slay the monsters. He said it as though it would mean something to me…”

“Does it?” Her Watcher’s cold voice reminded her that both he and Angel were staring at her suspiciously.

“I…I don’t know. It sounds sort of familiar, but I don’t—“ Buffy’s voice broke off and her face went whiter than Angel’s.

The vampire couldn’t miss the sudden increase in her heart rate, replacing the paleness of her face with a flush of bright red, but his repeated requests for her to finish her remark and/or tell him what she remembered went unanswered. With a mumbled, “I have to go now,” she fled the room, leaving her undead boyfriend and her angry Watcher staring after her.

She ran out of the library, out the first exit she came to and toward her home. As her feet pounded onto the pavement, she was repeating over and over, “No. No. Please no. Not him. No.” Tears stood in her eyes and the wind from her passage flicked the moisture out every few seconds as she tried to outrun her fear.

She reached her home and flew up the tree leading to her roof, barely touching the branches in her haste to reach the comfort and safety of her bedroom. She dove through the open window and sank down onto the floor, shivering all over. When her breathing was once again under control, she crawled to her bed and pulled a locked box out from under it. She stared at it in fear for a few seconds before pulling a small key on a chain out from inside her shirt and putting it in the lock.

Carefully removing her diary and setting it aside, she dug through the souvenirs of her limited social life until she found a folded piece of soft paper with a torn edge. With shaking hands, she unfolded the page and read the words so carefully written there.

She glows when she smiles
She is the most beautiful girl for miles
She slays the monsters and saves the child
Isn’t afraid no matter how wild
The enemy may have been
She is my warrior elf queen.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying blot out the picture of a fine-boned face and beautiful blue eyes looking into hers with admiration and adoration. When the child’s face morphed into that of grown man with chiseled cheek bones and the same brilliant blue eyes, she felt physically sick and doubled over clutching her stomach.

She huddled on her floor for minutes that seemed like hours, rocking back and forth and mourning the gentle, brilliant child who’d called her his warrior queen and written a poem about her. Too wrapped in her unhappiness to notice the vampire tingles on the back of her neck or the scent of cigarette smoke drifting through her window, she never noticed the equally anguished eyes watching her from behind the impenetrable barrier of her window sill.

Eventually, the physical need for sleep as well as the exhaustion brought on by the emotions roiling through her had Buffy carefully placing the folded paper back in the box. She carefully repacked all her treasures before locking the box and sliding it back under her bed.


Buffy ignored all attempts by her Watcher to find out what had changed her from a bouncy sixteen-year-old high school student to a quiet, sad, all-business slayer. She went out on patrol every night, returning to Giles’ apartment or the library to report on her evening’s slaying in a dull, flat voice. When he asked if she’d seen any sign of William the Bloody, she shook her head “no” without elaborating. She saw no reason to tell him that she was sure she occasionally felt the signature of a powerful vampire; usually when she was fighting more than one vamp or demon at a time.

Although she knew Angel often watched over her from a distance, she was sure the signature was not his. She was curious about the similarity between Angel’s signature and what she knew was probably Spike’s, but put it down to their both being old, powerful vamps rather than young fledglings like most of the ones she encountered in her nightly patrols.

She went about her slaying with deadly precision and an absence of her usual quips and tricks. As weeks went by and she didn’t see Spike again, she began to relax and ease back into her usual routine, allowing Xander or Giles to accompany her once in a while as well as agreeing to meet Angel after patrol once or twice a week. As things went back to normal, her usual sunny disposition emerged and she was soon punning and teasing with the vampires she fought and killed every night.

She had just determined that the bleached blond vampire had probably left Sunnydale, whether because he thought he couldn’t kill her or because he just didn’t want to, when they received information that there was now a new Master of Sunnydale and that he had an insane and injured consort. There was apparently much speculation in the demon community that the new Master would soon take care of the Slayer, leaving the town at the mercy of its more evil denizens.

Buffy’s hopes that the Master in question was someone completely new were dashed when young girls began disappearing in record numbers and those vamps who would talk before being dusted indicated they were being provided to the ill consort of the new Master. The watcher’s council informed them of the near-dusting of Spike’s sire, Drusilla, in Prague and the possibility that he had brought her to the Hellmouth for healing.

This time there was no brushing off Buffy’s obvious depression as ordinary teenage moodiness. She sleepwalked through the school day, barely speaking to her friends, and went out alone every night to slay vampires with cold precision. Even Cordelia noticed and commented on the Slayer’s obvious unhappiness.

Finally, her Watcher could stand it no more and he politely asked her if she would mind coming to the library in the early evening to talk to him and Angel. He deliberately left out her school friends, wisely assuming that they had no more idea what was wrong than he did and hoping she would be more open with just the two older men listening.

When she was sitting at the long table in the center of the room, drinking a Coke in a desultory fashion and showing a complete lack of interest in their agenda, Giles spoke in a soft, understanding voice.

“Buffy, it is rather obvious to us – to everyone, actually – that something is bothering you. This…melancholy…that has consumed you for the past several weeks has us all very concerned. Perhaps if you would share with us—“

“Is it Spike?” Angel broke in. “Has he been threatening you again?”

Buffy blinked in surprise and sat up straighter.

“What? No. No, I haven’t seen him. I thought maybe he’d left Sunnydale…”

Even as she said the words, she knew they weren’t true. She had learned to recognize the distinctive vampire signature that mean that the blond killer of slayers was somewhere nearby, even though she had not seen him or heard from him since Back-to-School Night. And the Council’s information clearly pointed to his presence in Sunnydale.

“He’s still here,” Angel said grimly.

“How do you know?”

Buffy’s puzzled look was turned on the vampire and she missed her Watcher’s unconscious wince. The Watcher history books in which they’d found Spike’s picture were close enough to accurate for Giles to know that William the Bloody was somehow related to Angelus.

Angel took a deep breath and admitted, “I can feel him. He’s here.”

“FEEL him?”

“Buffy,” he gave the Watcher a pleading look, but Giles’ face was closed and gave no hint of this thoughts. “Buffy, I can feel him because he’s family. I’m his—“

“You TURNED him? YOU turned William?”

Buffy’s voice was high and shrill as befitted a young girl who thought she had just learned something terribly disturbing about her sometime boyfriend, but the look she gave Angel made him step back quickly in fear. Buffy was pure Slayer as she stalked the rapidly retreating vampire across the large room, and he hastened to answer her, holding his hands up in front of himself in a placating manner.

“No, Buffy. No. I didn’t turn him. But…Drusilla did, and I am her sire. Spike is my grandchilde. He is…was… a close part of my vampire family. I can feel his presence just as I could feel Darla’s. I know he’s still here, I just can’t find him.”

“Are you trying to? Find him, I mean.”

She stopped her predatory stalk toward the puzzled vamp, but kept the hard look on her face.

“Yes,” he answered simply. “I know him. If he has determined to kill you, he won’t stop until one of you is gone. I thought if I got to him first….”

“You’d kill your own grandchilde?”

“I killed my sire to save you, Buffy.” The sadness in his voice was its own reproach.

Shamefaced, Buffy nodded at the recollection of how much he cared for her and her fight against evil. When she had sent him a non-verbal twisted smile of apology, he continued, “Trust me when I tell you that getting rid of Spike wouldn’t bother me in the least. The boy’s a pain in my ass and has been since he crawled out of his grave.”

“IS that the problem, Buffy?” her Watcher asked gently. “Are you worried about Spike?”

She shuddered and turned away, not answering him except to shake her head.

“I just want to get it over with,” she said softly, almost to herself.

“Buffy, why don’t you let me handle—“

She cut Angel off with a hard flick of her hand.

“NO! No,” she continued more softly, “I’m the slayer. It’s my job to slay the monsters. He knows that. It should be me.”

“But, if you are afraid of him…” Her Watcher’s voice was calm and reasonable; truth be told, he found the idea of Angel taking on the legendary slayer of slayers very appealing.

“I’m not afraid of him,” she whispered softly, walking toward the exit. Before either man could register what she’d said about Spike knowing she should be the one to slay him, she whirled on Angel and said fiercely, “It should be me. Do you understand? Stay away from him!”

With that final order, she left the building and headed out on her nightly rounds, leaving two very puzzled men behind her to mull over her words.





Chapter Six

She walked aimlessly through the first two cemeteries, absently staking one vamp as it tried to crawl from its grave and wondering why he was the only one she saw. Moving into the next, more remote, graveyard, her attention was drawn to sounds of chanting and the smell of smoke. She followed her nose and ears to a secluded glade in the woods backing up to the graveyard and found a small group of J’kack demons apparently beginning some sort of ritual.

With a trace of her normal good humor, she sighed, “Why can’t it ever just be a bunch of kids smoking weed?” as she went into action.

Springing into the center of the circle the demons had marked out, she quickly released the intended sacrifices, shoving them through the smoke and hissing, “Run!” Then she turned to meet the charge of the outraged demons - wishing briefly that she’d thought to bring a sword with her, but falling into the rhythm of the fight anyway.

She was able to use her speed and agility to remain out of reach of the swords the demons had, with more forethought than she had demonstrated, brought to the ritual, but she was unable to penetrate the barrier made by the flashing blades well enough to strike any killing blows. As she tired, the demons were able to surround her; suddenly dodging their sword strikes became much more difficult and the first tendrils of fear crept into her mind.

When she received a cut on her shoulder from the demon to her left as she ducked the one on her right, she began to think she might really be in trouble. The wound was not serious, but it hurt and it was bleeding enough to distract her. Suddenly, she felt Spike’s signature and she found herself sharply disappointed at the thought that he would take advantage of her wound and weakness to attack now. However, the expected attack from the vampire never came; instead she realized with relief that there was no longer an opponent behind her. Without looking to see where the demon had gone, she understood that she was free to concentrate on the ones in front and to the sides.

Although still weaponless except for her stake, renewed hope flowed through her body and she pressed the attack once again. A quiet, “Catch, Slayer,” and she found herself grabbing a sword out of the air over her head.

Now armed with something suitable, she moved quickly to rid herself of the remaining demons, angrily cutting off the arm of the one that had wounded her and the heads of the other two. When there was nothing left but the green blood from the one-armed J’kack running rapidly into the woods and the disintegrating bodies of his fellow demons, Buffy lowered her sword cautiously and turned around to face the vampire.

She stared at his smiling face, wondering why he seemed so relaxed when he was facing a tired and wounded but basically functional Slayer and one who was now holding a sword. When she didn’t say anything, merely continued to search his face, he finally spoke again, cocking his head to one side.

“Don’t I get a ‘thank you’, pet?”

“Why’d you do it, Spike? Are you that focused on killing me yourself?”

Her voice showed her weariness, but she dropped into a fighting stance, raising the sword and looking into his eyes with resigned determination. She almost faltered when she saw what could only be hurt flash across his face before his eyes hardened and he snarled back at her.

“If I wanted to kill you, Slayer, you’d have been dead weeks ago. Let’s just say I was returning a favor.” His tone changed, and again she thought she saw pain behind his eyes. “Don’t pretend you don’t remember, Slayer,” he said, almost pleading. “I know you do.”

She dropped the sword point again, wondering if she should pretend not to understand him. She could think of no way for him to know that she’d already connected him with the little boy she’d known so briefly over a year ago. She was even more surprised that he could remember something so far in his own past and she frowned before responding.

“So, we’re even now?” she answered noncommittally.

“I suppose we are,” he said slowly.

“Then I suggest you leave Sunnydale. And take your…whatever she is with you.”

“Brought her here to make her well,” he said flatly. “Not leavin’ till I’ve done it.”

They faced each other stubbornly until the vampire’s face softened.

“Would you really dust me, Buffy?” His voice was as soft as his expression and for just a second she caught a glimpse of the little boy who’d worshipped her. Then the master vampire was back and she tried to shake off the inappropriate feelings he’d inspired so briefly. “If you could?” he added with a confident smirk.

“It’s what I do, William,” she whispered softly, then bristled. “And of course I could! You’re not all that, you know.”

“Yeah, luv, I kinda am,” he said; the words held no sign of braggadocio, but were spoken as if he was stating a fact. “You’re very good, Slayer, but you’re not ready for me. Maybe in a couple more years, if you live that long, but not yet. I’ve had a lot longer to get good at this than you have. And next time, I’ll be ready for you to cheat. Might even be looking forward to it,” he added with a grin.

Changing the subject, she ignored his leering grin and asked, “So you’ll just keep feeding her Sunnydale’s teenage girls until she’s well? I won’t let that happen, Spike. I can’t.”

“Didn’t expect you to, pet. That’s not what we came for. Minions just got a little carried away about bringing her food; but it won’t happen again. What she needs she can’t get from humans.”

Buffy gaped at him. “Are you saying you aren’t going to be hunting?” she asked incredulously.

“I’m saying I don’t plan to give you a reason to come looking for me,” he answered evasively. “Unless you want to of course. I wouldn’t mind fightin’ you again.; was bloody good fun the first time. But I won’t give you a reason to stake me.”

“You exist, Spike.” Buffy felt her eyes prickle with unexpected tears. “I’m the Slayer. I don’t need any other reason.”

He tilted his head to one side and studied her conflicted face.

“You know, pet, you’re the only reason I even lived long enough to be turned. The things you taught me, the encouragement you gave me. The example you set – well, except for runnin’ from that harmless sheep…”

“Hey! He knocked me down!” she replied indignantly before noticing the twinkle in his eye.

With her sword now being held loosely and pointed toward the ground, he felt confident enough to step closer. He ghosted his hand over her hair, pushing a stray piece off her face and saying softly, “The point is, luv, I don’t think I could kill you if I wanted to. Not saying I won’t fight you if I have to. Not saying I wouldn’t hurt you. But knowing that you’re real…that you’re alive, and not some figment of a child’s imagination…”

He shuddered and stepped away quickly before she could respond.

“I’ll try to keep the minions in line a little better, but I won’t have any hard feelings if you have to dust them. And I’ll try to stay out of your way. As much as I can, anyway,’ he finished in a mumble.

Buffy remembered all the times she thought she’d felt him in the past months.

“Have you been following me?”

“Not as such, no. No, of course not! Why would I follow you? You’re the bloody Slayer. Want to stay as far away from you as…” he stopped when he saw her crossed arms, tapping foot and the disbelieving look on her face.

“How did you happen to be here tonight? Just when I needed…when I wouldn’t have minded a helping hand?”

“Jus’ passing by and heard the noise. Can’t pass up a good fight, you know. Keeps the old reflexes sharp and—“

“You didn’t fight.”

“Well, I could’ve if I wanted to. Just got sidetracked a bit watching you. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in action. Poetry in motion, you are.”

“Speaking of poetry…”


A look of sheer terror passed over the vampire’s face.

“There will be no speaking of poetry, Slayer. One word and my promise not to kill you is bloody well forgotten! I mean it,” he growled as she started to laugh.

“What’s the matter, Spike?” she teased. “Writing poetry doesn’t fit your Big Bad image? What would your minions say if they knew you’d written a poem for a Slayer?”

“They wouldn’t say a bloody word if they knew what was good for them, “ he snarled. “And neither will you!”

He grabbed her arms, effectively pinning the sword to her side while he slipped into vamp face and lunged at her throat. Buffy’s heart rate went up, but she held her ground in the face of the apparent attack, neither fighting him nor attempting to get away. When his lips just brushed her neck before he shook off his wrinkles and fangs, she knew he hadn’t lied about not being able to kill her.

“I don’t remember you being such an irritating bint,” he grumbled, pulling back from her far enough to see the smile she was trying to hide.

He was very conscious of the warmth flowing from her body and his own body responded to the nearness in unmistakable fashion. Buffy’s eyes grew wide as she felt him growing hard against her stomach. Although her experience with men since she’d been called at the age of fifteen had been pretty much limited to a few unsuccessful dates with fumbling boys her own age and even fewer yearning late night kisses with Angel, she knew exactly what she was feeling pressing against her again. She flashed back to Back to School Night and the way she’d allowed that rigid shaft to slide between her thighs.

Her mouth went dry and she tried to speak, managing only to croak out, “Is that going to happen every time you get near me?”

“Looks like,” he answered, lowering his face to her neck again and running his lips over her now pounding pulse. “Can’t help it, Slayer. Question is, what are we going to do about it?”

Buffy was unconsciously leaning into the hard body that fit her own so much better than Angel’s bulk did. If she stood on her toes just a bit, her mouth was almost even with his as he dipped his head down to brush his lips over hers, just as he had weeks ago. He continued to move them gently across her mouth until her own lips softened and responded to the light pressure. When he tentatively ran his tongue over her lower lip, causing her to gasp and open her mouth, she gave up any pretense that they weren’t actually kissing.

With a groan, the vampire pulled her willing body against his, slanting his head at the same time to deepen the kiss. Their tongues met, uncertainly at first, but gaining boldness as they stood together with nothing moving but their mouths. Buffy kept her hands at her sides, letting Spike’s strong arms hold her to him while their kiss continued to deepen. As the vampire’s passions became more ardent, his hands began to move over her body, stroking and kneading her flesh through her clothing; when his cool fingers slid up under her shirt to stroke the bottom of her breast, she began to understand that Spike was not likely to be content with the heavy petting and dry-humping that boys her own age might.

While her body responded to everything the vampire did with an enthusiasm that surprised and frightened her, her mind was screaming that she needed to stop him before she found herself losing her virginity while standing up in a graveyard. With a tremendous effort of will, and no small amount of reluctance, she brought her hands up against his chest and tore her mouth away long enough to protest, “Sp-William, we need to stop.”

“Don’t want to,” he mumbled, burying his face in her neck again and planting wet kisses as far down into her shirt as he could reach without unbuttoning it. He felt her tremble and smiled to himself, reaching for the buttons with one hand before he smelled the tears and realized she was trembling more from fear than desire.

“P-please, William.” Her barely spoken plea and the tears rolling down her face shocked him out of his lust-driven haze, and he pulled back immediately.

One look at the conflict in her eyes as well as the fear she couldn’t hide and the Victorian gentleman that he hadn’t been for well over a hundred years took over. He knew instinctively that the fear he could read in her face had nothing to do with his being a vampire and everything to do with his being a man.

“I’m sorry, pet., so sorry. Never meant to…I forgot how young you are…”

“I can’t…I don’t…I’m not ready for…” Buffy stumbled for a way to say what she was feeling; that although her body seemed more than ready to take what he wanted to give her, her sixteen-year-old psyche was not. As soon as he mentioned her youth, she was reminded of his own age and she nodded in agreement.

“I’m only sixteen, Spike. And you’re…you’re…Oh my God!”

The instant in which, in her eyes, he went from being a slightly older man to a 124-year-old master vampire was readily apparent. Eyes wide with shock and dismay, she retreated from his embrace, shaking her head as she backed away. He reached a desperate hand towards her as she continued to move away from him, her hand pressed to the mouth he’d been lost in just a few seconds ago.

“Wrong,” she half-sobbed. “This is so wrong.”

“Buffy….”

“No!”

She whirled and ran, dropping the sword so that it wouldn’t slow her down. She had no idea if Spike was chasing her or not, and she didn’t care as she continued running as hard as she could back to the refuge of her home and her chaste little girl’s bedroom. Once again she dove through her window and huddled on the floor, rocking back and forth and crying – over what, she wasn’t quite sure.