This lovely was created by the wonderful Mandi. Thank you so much.

Betas: The wonderful Megan and Angelic Amy. Thank you, lovely ladies.

Author Notes: Thank you to all those who have left feedback. It is greatly appreciated.

Chapter 11

Despite the murmur of desultory conversation, a pin dropping would have been noted as they waited for the result of the first field test. A soft ping from one of the many pieces of state of the art technology that lined the walls of the dimly lit room alerted them to an incoming communication.

Three hours earlier the chip of a vampire, property of the cultural attaché for the US Embassy in Beijing, had been remotely neutralised. Only the hand held control device would give his owner the power to fire the chip, if required. Shu Fang, the half-American, half-Chinese female vampire had caught the eye of General Wei Bo-lie and had since been the pleasured recipient of her favours for two months. The general, a notorious night owl and controller of his country’s most advanced communication systems, had been assiduously wooed for over a year now; his endorsement sought for the installation of a series of transmitters in the Beijing area. He had courteously side-stepped each and every manipulation, until now.

General Wei and his small entourage of trusted bodyguards were currently enjoying the hospitality of a prominent Hong Kong entrepreneur on his floating palace anchored off Silvermine Bay. Shu Fang and her owner were included in the small, select gathering of the high powered. The vampire had been carefully briefed, accepting her assignment with enthusiasm.

Just before dawn, after a night of debauchery, she turned on her lover and truly felt like a vampire again as she pinned him to the rumpled bed. Her being screamed with joy as fresh warm blood entered her body for the first time in almost two years, the general’s cries for help muffled by the towel she has stuffed into his mouth. In a state of bliss, Shu Fang created her first childe, and left him motionless on the bed before hurrying out to complete her task. Taking down the bodyguards had been a bit messier. Twenty minutes later, five inert bodies were subjected to the type of conveyor belt surgery more associated with cataracts than neurology.

Meticulously prepared and coded messages, purporting to be from General Wei, cleared his schedule for the next two weeks. He believed he had found a piece of technology that would be of advantage to his country, and needed the time to secure it. Gracious permission was swiftly received and a sigh of relief went up aboard the luxurious yacht. Two weeks should be ample for the Initiative team to indoctrinate the world’s highest powered vampire in his new role and let him know who his true masters were. The minions wouldn’t take so long.

Stopping Shu Fang from massacring the rest of the guests and crew had required several high voltage blasts from the chip, nothing that hadn’t been expected. As soon as the confirmation of success was received in Washington her chip would be reinstated in the control ring. The first step in Operation Conquer was complete.

***

Spike was still unsure how he found himself, half an hour later, seated in a secluded booth in a subterranean demon bar, run by none other than his once business associate, Willy. The venue was much changed from the Willy’s that he recalled. And much improved, too.

The place had been reached through sewers and tunnels, some of which held a familiarity from his previous sojourns on the Hellmouth, some completely new. The Slayer had told him on the way that Willy had become a slightly reformed character over the intervening years, seeing the wisdom in catering only to those demons not posing a threat to humans – in normal circumstances. But it had taken seeing to start believing, beginning with the large, grey wrinkly skinned demon who had greeted the Slayer enthusiastically when she tapped out a code with her knuckles on the steel shod hidden entrance. Clem, as she called him, had looked at Spike with open curiosity before dipping his head bashfully and fluttering his fingers towards the vampire in shy welcome. Spike had warily nodded to him before following the Slayer into a large cavern that had been sectioned off to provide more than the facilities of a mere bar

Off to the left was what appeared to be a family space, and popular at that. Hybrids that could pass for human and full-fledged demons sat side by side, conversing and eating as their children played together in an activity area. Laughter and childish squeals - harsh on his ears - rang out as the younglings blew off steam under their guardian’s watchful eyes. Three pool tables, in use and with an audience of good-natured critics filled the gap before the bar proper. It was here that eyes turned to look at the newcomers, nods and smiles directed towards the blonde as she made her way to the bar before more guarded glances were cast his way. He was the only vampire present.

Willy looked to have lost a layer or two of sleaze and, in the right light, could almost pass for respectable. The bar was twice as long as the one in the old establishment and had two extra demon bartenders keeping the thirsty supplied with the refreshment of their choice. Spike hung back as Buffy was given passage through the press of bodies, immediately attracting Willy’s attention and speaking to him quickly. He couldn’t hear what was said over the swell of multiple conversations, but saw Willy glance at him quickly in surprise before nodding as Buffy turned away and moved towards him.

“This way.” With a tired smile the Slayer led them further into the cavern and into what was clearly the up market part of the operation; intimate tables and private booths were mostly occupied by couples enjoying cosy liaisons in a level of ambiance it was difficult to imagine Willy creating. Without hesitation, the Slayer led him to a booth in the furthest corner of the cavern and motioned for him sit down. He’d half expected her to slide in next to him but she took the high backed bench opposite, leaning back against the comfortable cushions and taking advantage of her position to scan the occupants before relaxing and turning her full attention to him. Spike swallowed and looked down at his lightly clasped hands resting on the table. He didn’t know how to begin, or exactly what to say once he started.

Buffy watched the bowed head, absently thinking that in a week or two his hair would be grown long enough to actually style. She surprised herself with a sudden urge to touch him, to reach out and skim her fingers through the short covering on his well-shaped head. Startled back to reality, she looked away and felt a combined sense of relief and dread as Willy approached them carrying her order on a large tray.

“There you go, Slayer.” His bright, curious eyes fixed on the vampire. Faint recollection scratched at the edges of his sharp memory; he was sure he’d met this particular predator before. Willy would work it out, he always did. With practised ease he set a fine crystal, stemmed wine goblet before his most valued patron, settling the cooler containing an open bottle of imported sauvignon blanc within easy reach. He’d offered before to keep the same bottle chilled and ready for her, the Slayer’s limit being one glass; he well-remembered her reaction when she’d discovered the kitten-poker group after just a couple of shots and still had nightmares over the cost of refurbishment. She had declined and told him to do with it as he saw fit.

Reaching over, Willy positioned a shot glass and a bottle of JD next to the vampire before ridding his tray of the last few items; a blooming onion, bowl of spicy chicken wings, a bowl of lemon scented water and some napkins. Willy nodded to the blonde woman who was looking suspiciously at the label on her bottle of wine.

“It’s the real deal, Slayer. Know you won’t touch the local stuff. This is just from a different vineyard that a Mogloth demon told me about a while back. Go on, try it,” he encouraged.

Buffy poured a small measure into her glass, glad to delay the inevitable for a little while longer. She took a small sniff before sipping, enjoying the dry sweetness and fruity goodness as she let it drift over her tongue before dropping down her throat. Smiling, she returned the nod to Willy. “It’s good. How many did you get?”

“Just the one case. Didn’t know if you’d like it and most of the clientele don’t have your refined tastes.” He was pleased the Slayer liked it, and not only for the huge mark-up he’d applied. “Wave if you want anything.”

And now they were alone, and it was time. Time to ask for the explanation. ‘How do you know Angel wants you? And why would he? And even if he did, why does it make you want to run away? To leave me.’ But the hell of it was she thought that…unthinkable as it might be…there was no getting away from the bite mark on Spike. And she’d seen enough bites to recognise a vampire’s without the need of a magnifying glass. It had been niggling her on and off all day. When she’d asked him about it everything had dissolved until she’d let out a whole world of pain which she’d refused to face for far too long.

So, how had a vampire bitten Spike? Her mind shied away from all the possible reasons, mostly because they incurred a very unwelcome visual of two well-muscled male bodies going at it in ways she’d never dreamt existed before today, and before reading that damned manual. Spike might have come into contact with a feral vampire if he’d still been used as a bodyguard, but not to the extent that a master vampire like him could be abused in that way. Not unless he’d wanted it, which Buffy found hard to believe. And the fear of Angel?

Buffy sighed inwardly. Perhaps she should make it clear to Spike that whilst Angel would always be in her life, purely because of the history they shared, he was also not in her life because of all the history they hadn’t shared. Their existences had taken different paths from the moment she’d thrust the sword into his newly re-ensouled body and killed the being which had cheated her of all her romantic, girlish fantasies. Taken away her innocence along with her virtue…when only one of them had been a gift. Killed the most vulnerable part of her, forever making her unsure of her instincts and doubting her reasoning. ‘Damn! When am I gonna stop blaming him? Angel leaving was not the end of my world. That came after. He wasn’t even around when the worst of the crap went down. But Spike was so right. We’ve never been friends. Just exes, cordial when we talk…but not talking often. And now he wants Spike? No way, Jose.’

When he lifted his head, when the silence between them had stretched out for as long as he could bear, he found her shining eyes regarding him steadily over the rim of a pretty glass. She was his beautiful Slayer and he was her slave, whipped without pain. Willingly hers.

Was it wrong that he wanted her to think well of him? To see him just from now onwards, to take him without question for who he was and what they could do together. In the fight. His body didn’t need the extra burden of an unattainable fantasy on top of its unsolicited responses to her presence; he was more than glad the table blocked her view of his lap.

To tell her the great love of her life had buggered him six ways to Sunday was going to do nothing for either of them except cause pain. And much as he would love to avoid his own, keeping pain from the Slayer figured in there too.

The Slayer, as was rapidly become usual, continued to surprise him.

Buffy took a sip, then another, larger, before putting her glass down carefully and reaching across the table to pour Spike a measure of JD, pushing the shot against his fingers. Leaning back, she focussed on the gently flickering light from inside the red glass as she broke the quiet.

“You weren’t wrong, you know.” Buffy relived her shock as the platinum blond interloper said out loud what she’d been subconsciously thinking ever since it had finally sunk in that they could never, ever be lovers. And she wasn’t sure she wanted them to be that, either. It was his eyes. She could never look into them again and believe what she saw there was just Angel; Angelus would always be there too. “Angel and I…never friends. Neither of us could forget. And it hurt to remember.”

She could feel his eyes upon her, intent. For a moment she regretted not sitting next to him - she would have liked to have taken his hand now - but hadn’t wanted him to feel trapped, imprisoned. Taking another sip of wine, Buffy met the eyes of a vampire who was… There it was again, teasing her with its nearness. It was something about Spike tonight that had reminded her of Angel and Angelus, of… Buffy shook her head in irritation, grasping at what was just out of reach, wishing she hadn’t when he gulped down the shot and reached for the bottle with a trembling hand. Where had the other Spike gone?

This was important. She felt it with every instinct that was hers as a woman, not as a slayer. The very instincts she’d avoided trusting for so long. As much as she longed to sit and ponder it, right now there were more pressing matters to be taken care of; this would have to be filed away for now with the hope that she could look at it again soon.

Buffy reached over to the food and pulled a piece of onion off, crunching it in her mouth before washing it down with a large swallow from her glass. To her surprise she’d reached sandy bottoms, not a drop to drink in sight if it wasn’t for the bottle sitting temptingly in the cooler next to her. “It’s good, Spike. You should have some.”

Her eyes met his as he slowly placed his empty glass on the table. He was waiting for her to continue, her moment of musing and unconscious divergence merely a pause, her opening comments only a prologue to the explanation of the relationship that was Angel and Buffy. In unorchestrated symmetry, they both refilled their glasses. Buffy stayed facing the silent vampire but her sight was turned inwards as she pulled from her memory incidents long buried, deliberately put away or rationalised.

“When he left it hurt, but was sorta inevitable. I can see now how right you were, that night at the Magic Box, but at the time I just wanted to prove you wrong. You didn’t know me, not in any way that wasn’t connected to slaying. And…and he was my first so he was…special.” Buffy didn’t register the tear that fell softly, almost invisibly, down her check.

Spike did.

This whole night had become an almost surreal assault on his emotions, feelings he’d had little use for in a long time. The Slayer fascinated him. Spike had seen her put more effort into caring for him in the hours he’d been with her than Dru had for his entire confinement in that bloody wheelchair. And the Slayer had no cause to be tender of him. The same couldn’t be said for Dru, his sire and partner for a century.

Spike admired how hard the young woman in front of him tried, how much she pushed herself to do the right thing. The fireworks he’d enjoyed from her in another life may have fizzled down to the odd sparkler, but the things she’d told him about would have put a dampener on the brightest and best. Hell, only had to look at him to see how much life, or unlife, could change your outlook, colour your world in ways you hadn’t known were there to dread.

To see the Slayer expose her most private and personal self to him again, because of his need, made Spike both elated and ashamed. If he hadn’t needed the knowledge so badly he would have pulled his courage together and stopped her now. But he wasn’t that strong. Not yet.

He nibbled at a chicken wing, more to occupy his hands before they reached for his glass once again than for any nourishment. Her voice was quieter when she spoke again.

“Since then he’s been in LA and I’ve been here, on the Hellmouth. We only speak if there’s a big evil afoot…or another death to let him know about. He didn’t even tell me when he moved into that old hotel. I only found out when I called to let him know about Glory.” Spike ran through the events mentioned in the basement and added ‘Dawn’ to the name of the exiled hell god. “I knew I needed help, and he said he would always be there for me when I needed him. It was the first time I ever asked him for anything since he’d left. And when the number came up unobtainable I had the operator look it up. Angel Investigations had moved and had themselves a brand new number.” The edge of bitterness creeping into her voice was unmistakable.

Spike knew enough. It was time to stop her pain.

“Did he come, Slayer? When you asked him. Did he come here to help you?” He knew damned well the great ponce hadn’t, would have remembered if she’d mentioned Angel even once; she hadn’t. Spike just wanted to pull her away from thoughts of the git and get her to focus on him instead. He was pleased with his success in the way of someone who’s going to break another’s fall, even knowing they will bear the brunt of the pain in their place.

Somehow, in the harum-scarum reality of now, he was being given the break he’d screamed for over and over, before silence had been torn from him and he’d given in to being whatever they wanted. The break he’d had in mind then might have involved being rid of the chip and tearing out the throats of as many examples of humankind as he could in one night, but perhaps he’d grown a little wiser since then. Anything that changed his unlife for the better was a beak. And he wasn’t the only one who’d needed one. A break. A change for the better.

“He was busy. Some big bad thing that they couldn’t leave for a moment. He promised to come as soon as he could… But before that happened I was calling to tell him Dawn was dead.” Buffy still didn’t feel the tracks of her tears; she was losing herself in the compassion and warmth of Spike’s eyes. “We haven’t spoken more than once since then. Does that answer your question, Spike? Or is there more you want to know?” She hoped it was enough. Thinking of Angel always made her feel disappointed; in him and in her. Not something to pull out and shine once in a while.

“Think I get the idea, p…Slayer. Like you said, you ain’t friends.” Spike prayed he got through his confession without making a tragedy of it; didn’t want her pity, it wasn’t warm enough. “So, I s’pose you’ll be wanting a little quid pro quo now?” He couldn’t help but make it a question, instantly ashamed when she looked away in confusion.

“Just…it’s not a pretty tale. And,” he paused to search her eyes, impress his sincerity before continuing, “I don’t know that you’ll believe me. Why should you, Slayer?”

It crossed Buffy’s tired mind - not without a small amount of shock – that she was ready to believe whatever Spike saw fit to tell her; she could see his pain only too clearly.

Taking an unneeded breath, Spike began…

***

Ethan was finding it hard to disguise his intense discomfort. There was probably internal bleeding to go with the cracked ribs, but he did his best to appear as Gilesey as he could, given the circumstances.

His Initiative masters were becoming impatient and had felt compelled to convince Ethan of the appropriate quantity and quality of information they expected him to remove from the Watchers’ Council. Now they wanted the components of the serum the Council used to remove a slayer’s powers for the test against a vampire that killed more than survived.

When he’d balked, amused they should want something that would not further their knowledge of demons, he’d found himself being quickly realigned to their wishes with the help of several solid blows to his chest and sensitive gut.

Ethan felt his time in Blighty was coming to an unexpectedly early end. It was time to become more proactive in his removal from the Initiative’s sphere of influence. Time to slip the proverbial leash. Maybe a trip to the States, and Giles’ charge, would prove just the ticket.

Feeling better already, Ethan gave himself two days to organise his unauthorised deployment…and screw up the Initiative as much as he could in the process.

***

A/N: Hope that this has entertained and would welcome feedback.

In case anyone is interested the chipped vampire, Shu Fang, gained her name after I did that research thing. It’s a real Chinese name and means ‘kind, gentle and sweet’ – and I couldn’t resist for hopefully obvious reasons!

The General’s name is the result of putting my hubby’s name through a translator…but please don’t take that as an indication that I’d like to have him chipped! Now I’m gonna be thinking about that all day. Hmmm.

My apologies, there will not be an update next Monday. There are various reasons but the main one is that I want the next chapter to be as good as I can manage. In the words of Arnie, ‘I’ll be back’.