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Breathing Liquid Breath by slinkypsychokit
 
Six - Eight
 
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beta'd by the awesome Niamh!



Chapter Six:


Sunnydale, California. Just a quiet little burg to outsiders. Picture-perfect, sleepy bedroom community with parks and Sunday picnics and white picket fences. One would never know, just by looking, that the original Spanish settlers had named it Boca Del Inferno- loosely translated: Mouth of Hell. The untrained eye never saw beneath the surface; didn't see the creatures that went bump in the night or the legions of undead that pulled themselves from fresh graves on a nightly basis. Even a majority of the town's populace refused to recognize the dangers surrounding them.


O' little town of murder, mayhem and destruction. How you mock me, Xander Harris thought as he backed out of the bedroom and closed the door. A fine tremor shuddered through his muscular frame. Never. Not once in the seven years since he'd been forced to see the truth of his hometown, had he seen what lay inside the room he'd just vacated. His mind raced for something, anything which would explain what he had just beheld. Sleep deprivation? Tricks of light and shadow? Imagination running wild? There had to be some logical, sane explanation.


Hoping that if he just closed his eyes and counted to ten the scene would have changed, Xander did just that. Only, without anything else to distract him, the scene unfolded in stark, vivid relief. Slayer with a lapful of vampire was what he'd expected, as that's how he'd left them twenty minutes ago.


The only difference was that, twenty minutes ago, Buffy's eyes had been a glowing chartreuse. Not that it wasn't a pretty color, but since when had Buffy's eyes looked as though they belonged to a very large cat? Then, of course, were the fangs. Itty-bitty fangs- again reminiscent of a cat- all but gleaming in the soft glow cast by the lamp on the bedside table. Had she actually growled at him? He'd just been trying to-"OW!"


Xander whirled around in time to see Cordelia's hand -or more importantly, those talons of hers- return to the bowl she held.


"Please, Harris," the Seer rolled her eyes.


"You pinched me!"


"You were just standing there, in my way, and not answering me when I called your name." She held up the bowl and its suspicious smelling contents. "If you're not going to help, park that tush somewhere else."


Eyeing the potion, Xander gave his ex a pout and made a beeline for the door. Air. He needed it. He needed time to understand the things he had just witnessed. Time to figure out the things he had learned. The effects of the previous week and its stress settled like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach.


Things were rapidly going to hell around him and the people he cared most about in the world. Recess was over. School was out. Backing out of parking lot, Xander pointed his silver Lexus in the direction of Revello Drive.


*************


The human was already fast on the road to becoming an afterthought before the door had even closed. Some lingering bit of humanity tried to wriggle itself free of the steel cage her demon had imprisoned it in; tried to wag a metaphorical finger at her and make her the feel guilty or ashamed. The Slayer wasn't listening, though, as it drop-kicked the inner human back into its cage and locked her up tight.


The now-absent intruder didn't matter. He would get over it. Or not. It wasn't the Slayer's problem. Only one thing mattered...


Alone once more, Buffy eased her self down onto the mattress beside her mate, lowering her face to the wounds on his chest. The lingering scents of the ones who had harmed the magnificent creature brought a low growl trickling from her lips. Tentatively sticking out her tongue, the Slayer gave one of the raw gashes a little lick. A soft sigh sounded above her and a tiny smile curved across her lips. He may be out of it, but Spike's body, his demon, still knew she was there.


Encouraged by that small reaction to her touch, she leaned in closer and swiped her tongue across the wound. Slowly, ever alert to any signs that she was causing pain, Buffy continued bathing the cuts and abrasions. A quiet rumble reached her ears and she nearly giggled with pride and delight that Spike was unconsciously purring from her ministrations. The soothing sound went a long way in easing her heart.


With every slow, wet glide of her tongue against Spike's flesh, more and more knowledge blossomed within Buffy's awareness; ancient knowledge passed down through the eons along with the Slayer package. She looked down at his chest, looked with that knowledge and could actually pinpoint the exact location of every fractured rib. The one puncturing his right lung was the worst of the damage.


Something within her moved in that moment, something Buffy had no words for other than to call it power. Pure, undiluted power sliding, gliding, twisting, turning, writhing beneath her skin and searching for a way out. It built within her, danced along her skin, brought a long, low moan from her trembling lips. Her hands reached out to caress too-pale flesh.


The moment skin connected with skin, the power flared to a white hot brilliance behind her eyes and Buffy threw her head back. Spike arched beneath her hands, crying out at the myriad sensations. Heat and cold, pain and pleasure. She could feel the power burst free at last and knew she could direct it to do her bidding. In her mind, she gathered it into a ball and shoved it into Spike; targeted the broken bones and the torn flesh. In seconds, his ribs were whole once more and the gashes faded to light pink scars.


*************************


Cordelia looked between Willow’s confused face and the closed bedroom door behind which the raw scent of arousal wafted to her enhanced sense of smell. Her body tingled in reaction and she shrugged inwardly in acceptance. She had intended to aid the vampire’s healing through herbal remedies and healing spells. Apparently, the Slayer had other ideas and Cordelia wasn’t about to stand in the way. Even if attempting to do so would turn out bloody and unbelievably painful for the brunette.


Instead, the higher being made a quick decision and reached for the witch with a gentle hand, placed a finger across her lips and conveyed with her eyes what she needed. Willow smiled.


After all, it’d been awhile since she had someone with whom to do magicks.


******************


Spike could feel William retreat to the farthest recesses of his mind. The soul knew- just as the demon knew- that what was occurring was, on every level, the most primitive of actions. This was no time for hearts and flowers, no place for words of poetry or whispered promises. This was lust; unadulterated and in its purest form. The air was drenched in the scent of the fluid pooling between his mate's luscious thighs, causing the achingly stiff column of flesh twitch against the cold metal zipper of his jeans.


A low, rumbling growl trickled from his lips as the Slayer's warm, pink tongue darted out to swipe across the soft pillow of her bottom lip. Her hands clenched in the sheet as she crawled up from the foot of the bed. An answering rumble of need vibrated from her throat a scant heartbeat before her hand lashed out and she caught him around the back of his neck to drag his mouth to hers. In a flash, he'd toppled her back onto the rumpled sheets, shredded the dirt caked jeans from her body and buried his face against the source of that delicious smell.


Buffy arched her back, crying out at the sensations rocketing through her body. Her blood pounding in her ears, fingers scrabbling for something, anything, to hold onto as the demon licked and suckled at her needy flesh. Cries, pleas, babbled words she had no clue of were being released on the air as the tension within her belly grew tauter. Her fingers found root in the deceptively soft curls once a platinum white now streaked with dirt and dried blood. Desperate tears of release denied welled in her eyes, a long keening wail tearing loose amongst the harsh panting breaths sawing in and out of her lungs.


Without warning, Spike abruptly pulled away from the writhing female only to grasp her by the ankles and flip her onto her stomach. He gripped her hips. Gasping for breath, her chartreuse eyes peered at him over her shoulder, following the motion of his hands as he tore away the last remaining barrier between them. Their eyes met and held for the briefest of moments before he slammed into her dripping channel, forcing the breath from her lungs with a scream of pleasure.


Too long. It had been too long since the pair had been joined together. Too many months of self-imposed abstinence ensured them both that neither would last very long. One hand flexed on the heated flesh of her hip as he surged into her at a brutal pace. His other hand travelling along her taut, quivering abdominal muscles until the perfect peach of her right breast filled his palm, fingers rolling and pinching the tightly contracted nipple. She mewled and bucked against him, her slick vaginal walls gripping and fluttering. She was so close, nearly there, her moans growing louder as he picked up the pace to frantic rhythm that had his balls drawing tighter.


With a sudden jerk, Spike dragged her up against his chest and drove his fangs into the soft, yielding flesh of her throat as his pounding cock erupted, flooding her womb with cold, milky semen. She thrust back in response, wailing his name to the heavens, gripping him in a cock strangling monster of an orgasm while her nails dug bloody furrows into the flesh of his arm and thigh.


In the next room, the witch and the Seer slumped together in exhaustion.


******************


"No way!"


Connor nodded vigorously at Dawn’s cry of disbelief. Once the group had returned to the Slayer’s home, the others had gone to bed while Dawn showed him around the modest, yet comfortable house. Well, comfortable in a cramped space filled with way too many human females swimming in rampant girlie hormones. They made him nervous while Dawn just made him feel welcomed. She had also invited him to sleep in the vampire’s basement room while the vampire was being cared for in the apartment he shared with Xander.


Now, as the rest of the house slept away the morning, the two supernaturally created teenagers chatted happily and enthusiastically about their separate, yet equally unusual lives. She had told him about Glory the hellgod and the Slayer’s heroic sacrifice. He told her how he’d entrapped his vampire father in a glass coffin at the bottom of the ocean.


Dawn shook her head, still in shocked disbelief that someone besides Spike had actually gotten the drop on the broody, ensouled vampire. "Man, Angel must’ve been pissed! How’d he get out?"


"Wes," Connor answered simply and debated whether or not to tell her the whole story. But, then he caught the former Key letting loose with an enormous yawn and decided he’d kept the girl from sleep long enough. Instead, he lied and told her he wanted to get some rest while the others were still sleeping. She smiled prettily, making his heart flip in his chest, and said goodnight.


tbc...

**********

A/N: Some dialogue shamelessly stolen from BtVS S5's "Fool For Love".


Breathing Liquid Breath

beta'd by Niamh

Chapter Seven



The weeks seemed to fly by quickly once Spike was healed. The First went into hiding, Giles went back on his hunt for potential Slayers, and the occupants of Revello Drive seemed to settle into a quasi-normal routine. No one, aside from Xander, seemed to notice Buffy's brief stint as fanged demon girl. Well, except for Spike and as long as Buffy seemed to be unconcerned with the incident, he wasn't about to disturb the somewhat calm waters of his existence.


And so it was, that one morning, as the Slayer and her vampire mate roused themselves from a too brief respite and Spike headed downstairs to begin preparations for the feeding of their small army- Andrew, as always, right on his heels- Buffy showered quickly and set into motion the plan she and her fellow Scoobies had devised in secret.


Andrew stared in bleary-eyed wonder at the petite blonde who could crush his skull like an overripe fruit. Sadly, she was clearly fruit loopy. "You want me to what?"


Buffy sighed. "Here's the deal, Andy. You are going with Spike. He is going to take you to an abandoned warehouse and you are going to do everything he tells you to do."


"And if I don't?" Despite the nervous quaver in his voice, the super geek actually tried to stand his ground. It was, well frankly, adorable.


Buffy laughed softly, sweetly, as she stepped closer to the boy. "Lemme ask ya this, Andrew. Which would you prefer facing down in a dark alley? A starving vampire crazy from bloodlust?" The tiny Slayer placed her tiny Slayer fingers on her Slayer chest. She blinked innocently. "Or me?"


It was truly the most terrifying thing Andrew had ever witnessed in his very short life. "So an abandoned warehouse, huh?" Andrew nodded eagerly. "Suddenly I'm awash in my newfound sense of adventure."


Buffy grinned at Spike and clapped the young human on his back. "That's the spirit!" She shooed him towards the kitchen, eyes falling to her mate and ears effectively tuning out obscure quotes from whatever science fiction movie Andrew seemed to favor this morning.


With an impish grin, Buffy slinked forward slightly, eyes hooded as they raked over the lithe form of her lover leaning against the banister. His own eyes burned with desire as he caught the scent of her arousal. The need to feel those ripe, luscious lips pressed to his own blocked all other thought.


Just as a mere breath of air seemed the only thing separating him from his goal, Spike heard the telltale patter of feet coming from the direction of the living room. Red and Harris materialized, the former with her cell phone at the ready, while the latter carried his briefcase.


Xander held the black leather case up as he came to a stop near the blonde couple. "Six a.m. client meeting. I have need of a shower and clothing not comprised of frayed denim and worn cotton."


Buffy smiled and watched in wry amusement as her friend stepped through the front door to face another day of life on the mouth of hell. "Gotta love the real world. Just creeps right on in when you're looking the other way."


"Thank you, Althenea! Give my love to the coven...Blessed be," Willow intoned brightly as she removed a tiny earpiece from her right ear. "Ask me why I'm grinning like an idiot?"


Buffy settled herself against Spike's chest and lay her hands atop the ones he curved across her belly and grinned at her very best girlfriend. "Why are you grinning like an idiot?" Buffy thought for a second, then, "Not that I think you're an idiot and why, exactly are you grinning like that?"


"Because, silly," Willow chuckled happily as she waved a piece of notepaper under the Slayer's nose, "I have here in my hot little hands, ingredients for a very special spell. Now, you two may be asking yourselves what kind of spell could have me grinning like an idiot. And, me being the totally kick-ass best friend slash sidekick that I am, I'm gonna tell ya. It's a locator spell. And not just any locator spell, mind you. This baby is gonna tell me everything I need to find every potential slayer in the state of California. The second a potential crosses the state line, I'll know automatically where and when."


"Good on you, Red!"


"Way to go, Wills!"


Willow beamed and bounced a little on her feet. Then a shadow passed over her features and the smile faded to a slight pout. "Now, the question is: Can I find them and get them to safety before the Bringers can get to them?" The question seemed rhetorical so neither blonde answered; Willow's voice trailing off to a soft muttering as the redhead moved away. She stopped and grabbed a set of keys from the hook beside the front door. "Gonna run over to Anya's place and pick up the ingredients to do the spell. Be back later!"



It took a few moments of silence before Spike released a quiet sigh and nuzzled the soft skin behind Buffy's right ear. She whimpered quietly and arched her neck to allow him better access. His lips curved into a smile against her silken flesh. "Well, luv. Then there were two. You sure you really wanna do this?"


Buffy sighed heavily and stepped out of the vampire's reach. What I want is to keep these girls, these children, from getting their throats torn out because the Powers decided to give them the potential to lead the very life I've been forced to endure for the last seven years. What I want is to wake up in your arms and know that after all is said and done, I finally get the happy-ever-after that I've spent what feels like my whole life fighting for. To do that, I - no, WE- have to put these girls the most intense training the Council could have ever devised."


Heading towards the kitchen, Buffy called over her shoulder, "did you read that file I gave you?"


"Yeah," Spike nodded as he followed his tiny mate. Unsurprising, Andrew was asleep with his head on the island. The vampire shook his head at the sight and went to pour them both a mug of coffee before starting a fresh pot and adding a generous splash of whiskey to his own cup. "Chloe's a twelve year old from some inner-city program for the underprivileged. Rona, the newest one, is only fifteen and she's never even heard of the bleedin' Council of Wankers. Those are the two that bother me the most. Then there's Kennedy," Spike all but spat the name as he thought of the mouthy chit who reminded him much too much of the society gits who'd tortured his human self. "Much as I dislike the girl, she's the one with the most training. Even so, I'm betting the Bit could take her easy."


Buffy smiled in pride at her younger sibling's fighting skills being compared to those of a girl who would most likely be next in line to inherit the full mantle of Slayer. She said as much and then could have cut her own tongue out as the meaning behind her words sent a wave of agony rushing over her vampire's beautiful face. Choosing her words as carefully as possible, she watched Spike turn his back on her and begin preparations for breakfast.


"Sooner or later we're going to have to talk about this, Spike. We both know it." His shoulders tensed slightly as he continued to pull things from the refrigerator and cabinets. His movements were stiff and jerky, none of his usual vampiric grace present as his more humanistic qualities gave evidence to the tumultuous feelings running rampant through his heart and mind. She watched on, silent, while he hastily threw various ingredients into a large mixing bowl and began stirring them together viciously in a batter. He then snatched up a muffin pan and sprayed it with a light coating of oil, turned on the oven and repeated the spraying process on several other pans.


Once the batter had been carefully poured and the pans placed in the heated oven, he set the timer and retrieved a large cast iron skillet in which he quickly set about making omelets. The silence stretched out ominously, broken only by the sounds of cooking. Buffy huffed and rolled her eyes, unsure of any other way to get through to the emotionally volatile creature of the night.


Instead of exploding at him, she shook Andrew awake and sent him out of the kitchen, closing the doors that led to other rooms. On silent feet, she slipped up behind her vampire and slid her arms around him in a firm embrace, pressing her face into the back of his black cotton tee-shirt. He stiffened immediately and stopped chopping vegetables to fold his arms over hers.


"I can't do it again, Buffy," he admitted in a low voice gone thick and rough with his emotions. "I can't watch you die. Last time nearly bloody killed me. The only thing...Dawn...had to keep going for the Nib...I can't...don't make me," the last came out as barely a whisper of breath and she turned him around to fuse her mouth to his in an hungry, bittersweet kiss.


The tears were there in his voice and on his lips even if he refused to let them leak from his eyes. It had cost him to admit to the weakness and it brought forth her own tears fighting for freedom. So she kissed him harder, more demanding, threading her slender fingers into his disheveled curls.


"Oh, God," a voice interrupted and they both turned to find Dawn standing in the doorway, her eyes wide with alarm. "What's happened? Did somebody die? They did! Who? Why didn't anybody tell me?"


"No," Buffy sniffled and stepped away as Spike returned to his cooking. "We're good. Just a little tired and emotional." The Slayer took a steadying breath and pasted on a bright smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Time to go wake the wannaslay brigade. You guys might wanna cover your ears."


Spike looked at Dawn. Dawn looked at Spike.


"And it's about to get fun," the vampire drawled as he went to check on his muffins.



***************



Buffy was careful not to allow the slightest whisper of sound escape as she set up her portable cd player on a decorative table just outside her bedroom door and turned the volume knob to full blast. Then she crept along to open the door to each room containing sleeping potentials. It was all she could do not to let loose with uproarious laughter as she thought about what she had in store for this group.


Buffy Summers, by her very nature, was not a morning person, but really, one just couldn't buy this type of entertainment.


All doors open and everything in its place, Buffy picked up the remote control to her boombox and stood at the head of the stairs. With a wicked grin in place, she focused on her watch and counted the seconds. "Almost time," she murmured to herself.


Three...two...one...


Suddenly, the entire house thundered with the opening music to Rob Zombie's Living Dead Girl, a sudden longing enveloping the Slayer which would only be understood by her fellow sister warrior, Faith. For all her mistakes, her rebellions and her bad choices, Faith was the only other person who understood what it was like to be a Slayer.


An idea formed in the Slayer's mind- an idea that she would keep to herself for now- and she forced her mind to the task at hand.


Buffy folded her arms and adopted a stern look as she waited patiently for the obvious results of blaring guitars, wall-shaking bass and Rob's guttural voice that seemed to always hit her with a wave of lust.


It took a total of three minutes for more than a dozen pairs sleep-glazed eyes to find the source of the abrupt wake-up call. Buffy flicked the "OFF" switch, the sudden silence deafening in its very lack of sound. "Three minutes," she told them when she felt assured of their undivided.


"Three minutes," she repeated in a soft voice as she made eye contact with each and every confused face. "In three minutes, babies can be born. Billions of dollars can be gained and lost on the stock market. Murderers are put to death. The old die and the young live. Three minutes," she shrugged. "Had this been a real emergency, you would all be dead." Again she looked over her charges. "Kitchen. Thirty minutes."



****


Downstairs, Dawn helped herself to a cup of coffee.


"At least eat something if you're going to drink that stuff, Nibblet." Spike dropped a fresh blueberry muffin on a small plate and set it before her with a glass of orange juice and a bottle of vitamins. Dawn rolled her eyes at the vampire's antics.


"What are you? My mother?"


Spike quirked an eyebrow. "Don't slouch, dear."


***



Dawn popped the last bite of her blueberry muffin into her mouth and chewed slowly as the group of potential Slayers trouped in behind their way too cheerfully awake leader. The teen's bright blue eyes alighted on Andrew, who had pressed himself into the corner next to the back door with a cup of coffee and his own muffin. The last remaining member of the nerd herd flicked nervous eyes to the gaggle of gangly females as though he expected one of them to wrestle him to the ground and steal his breakfast at any second. Given that this group had the same effect as a group of locust on some poor, unsuspecting vegetable crop, Dawn didn't really blame Andrew for his fear.


Buffy waited for all the girls to line up along the wall of her kitchen before she spoke again. She looked around, as she had upstairs, taking in the still bleary-eyed faces. "Can anyone tell me the reason behind this morning's little exercise?"


"Um," one brave potential raised her hand in a meek gesture, her sleep-softened voice a bit husky despite its quietude. "You wanted to see how long it took us to wake up?"


"BZZZZZZT!" Buffy shook her head and grinned. "No, wrong answer. Anyone else?"


"But that wasn't a fair test," Rona argued. "We were asleep!"


Buffy sighed. "Dawn. Last Halloween your date nearly vamped you. How did he get the advantage?"


"I didn't know he was dead-"


"Undead," Andrew corrected.


"Shut up," the sisters Summers replied in unison.


"Anyhoo, I didn't know he was undead and we were parking in the woods. He caught me with my guard down."


Buffy nodded. "Your guard was down because you were in a relaxed state. How did you get away?"


"I shoved him away and ran. He caught me, of course. By then, you, Spike and Giles had already shown up along with a full cadre of vampires."


"And while we were fighting, you tried to escape again. How long did it take him to track you through the woods?"


"Ten seconds? Maybe less?"


"Then what happened?"


Dawn shuddered involuntarily as she recalled her disastrous first date. "He pinned me down. You guys were all busy fighting and I was about to die. I let him believe I was giving up and he went in for the kill. When he was close enough, I staked him. With a stray crossbow bolt I found in the leaves."


"Exactly! You were all alone and, instead of giving up, you fought back with whatever weapon you could find." The Slayer grinned proudly at her younger sibling before turning to the resident non-evil. "Feel like a little demo for the girls? A little re-enactment of your visit to China?"


Spike nodded, somewhat disturbed by his girl's mention of the first Slayer he had murdered over a century prior. Choosing not to dwell on it, he walked up behind the love of his unlife and studied the potentials over Buffy's shoulder.


"Pay attention. Lesson, the first." He wrapped a hand around Buffy's throat, slowly so the girls could all see what he was doing. Just as she had done the last time, Buffy reached for a weapon- in this case, it was a large, serrated knife he'd been using to cut vegetables- and spun to face her attacker. He grasped her wrist in a move too fast for the human eye to see.


"Lesson, the first," Buffy intoned with a smile only Spike could see. "A Slayer must always reach for her weapon."


On cue, Spike let out the demon to the gasps of some of the girls. "I've already got mine."


Spike shifted so that his human mask was once more firmly in place. For the moment, he ignored the wave of arousal teasing his nostrils. Bending his girl face down over the counter and having his wicked way with her was not something he could do with a roomful of the wannaslay brigade. It wasn't lost to his demon that the scent of arousal was not only coming from Buffy but from several other sources in the room. While the dormant slayer within some of the potentials responded to his demon fed his vampiric ego, the man in him was more than a little discomfitted. The last thing any of them needed right now was for these girls to discover the natural attraction between a Slayer and her mortal enemy. These girls had yet to learn how to control the type of power that Buffy had gained mastery of over the years.


They had enough things out there trying to kill them already.


Instead of voicing his thoughts- which he was fairly certain Buffy could detect through their link, Spike returned to his food preparations. They were on a tight budget after all. Since Spike couldn't very well get a nine to five like Joe Normal, he satisfied himself with doing what he could around the house. And no way in hell was he allowing the geek to cook for his girls.


Once he finished, happily tuning out the chatter of the estrogen squad, Spike washed his hands and glanced at the clock. "Sunrise in an hour. C'mon, Andy." He met his love's eyes for the briefest moment of silent communication before herding the boy out of the kitchen. Andrew obeyed like a good puppy. Spike seriously hoped he just didn't try to hump his leg or pee on his shoes.


****


Back in the kitchen, Buffy quickly called order to the chaotic voices surrounding her. "From this moment on, you will be trained intensely in weapons, hand to hand, self defence and more. You will be educated in the histories of the Slayer, the demon world, magicks and any other subject that'll make you a better fighter. These terms are non-negotiable." She gave them a moment to digest the information.


"You wanna live, you'll fight. If not, you'll die. Period. End of discussion. Willow will be back in a little while. You have until then to eat, shower and dress....Any questions?"



tbc


*******




Breathing Liquid Breath


A/N: Since it's been so long since I've had a chance to update this fic, a quick note. I'm not sure how it happened, but somehow the muse invited a few friends to join the party. Imagine my surprise when I caught him, red-handed, entertaining a couple of refugees from Wolf Lake. Thank you, once more to the lovely Niamh for the beta. This chapter is dedicated to the wonderful BloodyTearsofLife. Happy Birthday, Sweets!


As always, I own nothing.



Chapter Eight



Buffy's day seemed to drag on endlessly as one petulant student after another were either dragged before her desk or, in the case of one over-confident varsity football player, used the excuse of visiting the student counselor to hit on the petite blonde. On several occasions, she'd found her mind wandering to her mate.


Thoughts of Spike and the task which had taken him away from home just before sunrise naturally led to memories of the previous night and their trip to the Bronze. Surprisingly, it had been Buffy's own suggestion to take her charges to the popular nightspot. Her idea had quickly turned into a group event as everyone realized just how long it had been since any of them had simply let their proverbial hair down and relaxed with an evening of drinks, conversation and dancing.


********



The previous night-


Even as she lined her charges up at the balcony railing, Buffy felt a wash of nostalgia rush through her and she was transported back in time to her very first visit to the Bronze. Only, this time, it was she standing in as Watcher as she lectured the younger girls to hone their senses and pinpoint the location of any vampires present in the crowd of clubgoers on the floor below. She knew, as did the vampire at her side, that Spike was the only member of the undead present. Still, it was good practice for the girls, and their intent focus on their surroundings proved that the lesson had not been a waste. In reward, Buffy invited them to remain cautious as she released them to enjoy the various entertainments the dance club had to offer.


For her part, Buffy found herself in a quiet booth tucked into an equally quiet corner of the balcony with her mate. They had not been alone for long when they were interrupted by a demon that resembled a large white rabbit dressed in a three-piece suit and black fedora. It was not the first time either Slayer or vampire had occasion to run into Whitey, as the escapee from a Lewis Carroll novel was in the employ of a well-known demon bookie.


Without preamble, Whitey tucked himself into the empty space across from the blond couple and removed his hat, smoothing back his long, pointy ears and straightening the lapels of his tailored business suit. "Ms. Summers, Mr. Spike," he greeted in a smooth, cultured voice. "Forgive me for interrupting your evening, but I've been asked to deliver a message from my employer."


Spike snorted at the mention of Whitey's boss. There wasn't a demon alive or undead that hadn't, at some point, had occasion to run into Sharkey. The demon bookie was a six-foot creature resembling a great white shark with legs and mouthful of needle-sharp teeth Spike had once longed to wear on a necklace around his neck. The demon was as vicious and relentless as the ocean predator he was named for, while retaining the personality of every bookie ever portrayed in the movies.


Presently, Whitey hauled a large black leather briefcase onto the table before him and used a small brass key to unlock it. Turning the case to face the Slayer and her mate, Whitey lifted the lid. "Something is coming," he told them in a slightly nervous tone. "Every demon for six dimensions can feel it. Time to choose sides."


Buffy stared, transfixed by the contents of the case and hoped she wasn't drooling. It took a monumental effort, but she at last forced herself to meet Whitey's gaze. "Is this a bribe?" If the Slayer's voice was a bit breathy, no one gave any indication they noticed.


"A gift. You don't just save humans, Ms. Summers. Unlike a great many of the Slayers before you, you understand not all demons are bad or all humans are good. The envelope on top is all the legal paperwork to name you as owner of a building downtown. Inside the building you will find state-of-the-art fitness equipment along with a training room and its accompanying weaponry designed specifically for your unique needs."


Noticing the stunned look on his mate's face, Spike asked the demon where he would go, should they need to contact him for anything. For the first time ever, Whitey dropped his facade of refinement and let out a sigh. "As far from here as my cottontail can get. The others have already gone. This was my last stop." With a nod, the demon stood and laid his hat on the floor. With a twitch of his whiskers and a mischievous grin, he dove into the hat and was gone with a tiny flash of light.



*****


The bell signaling school had ended for the day brought Buffy from her thoughts and a sigh of resignation passed her lips. She had been procrastinating and she knew it. It was time to make the phone call she had been avoiding all day.


As though her sister had sensed Buffy's apprehension over her task, Dawn appeared at the entrance to her cubicle. The teen's dazzling sapphire eyes filled with empathy. A small smile of encouragement curled the younger girl's bow-shaped lips.


Suddenly, Buffy pushed back from her desk and stood to look out her window, watching eager students scurrying down the hallway towards whatever passed for freedom in their lives. She shook her head, "I can't do this, Dawnie."


"Well not here, cuz..." Dawn gestured helplessly, but Buffy got her meaning nonetheless. There wasn't only human eavesdroppers to worry over. Under their feet, beneath the school itself, lay the Seal of Danzalthar. It was the place where The First Evil had taken Spike, sliced him open and drained his blood to bring forth the Turok-han. This was enemy territory. Of course she couldn't make such an important phone call from here.


Renewed determination steeled her nerves and Buffy quickly gathered her things. "Let's get outta here, 'k?"


Dawn shook her head emphatically. She hadn't mentioned it to Buffy, or anyone for that matter, but deep down something within her responded to the darkness permeating every square inch of this place. Some residual element of her now dormant Keyness, she supposed.


Buffy wrapped her sister up in a one-armed hug, taking a brief second to breathe in Dawn's clean, fresh scent. This moment and the not-yet-a-woman tucked against her side was Buffy's legacy to the world. She was the reason Buffy would not accept defeat, why she would not give in to the evil threatening to destroy the world. Dawn would grow into a beautiful, powerful woman with the world at her feet if Buffy had anything to say about it. Even if it killed her again, Buffy was adamant that Dawn would lead a long, happy life filled with love and die an old woman surrounded by fat grandchildren.


********


She could still hear his voice as though he were standing in front of her; still hear the urgency of his demand that she gather whatever she could fit into the small duffel. The Clan would come for her. Tyler would come for her, now that she had tapped into her powers.


All Sophia had ever wanted was to be like the others. To make the ones on the hill accept her for who, and what, she was. Clan, like them. Her mother had been Clan. At least until she had mated to the outcast, the one of impure blood, and given birth to Sophia.


Until six months ago, Matthew Donner had believed his pride and joy had escaped the legacy that was all but guaranteed by the blood flowing through her veins. While her peers discovered the other side of their dual nature, Sophia had been relegated to the status of outcast like her father. The others took great delight in taunting her with cruelty and viciousness, treating her as though she were less than them. Sophia took it, too. She held her head high, her back straight and refused to be cowed by their seeming power over her.


Then things began to change for her. It happened so gradually she hadn’t noticed it at first. Little by little, her senses seemed to awaken. At night, she dreamed of the forest and a freedom so exhilarating it left her panting for air and covered in a light sheen of perspiration when she awoke in the morning.


More than the dreams, there was Luke. Son of Willard and Vivian Cates; heir to the Cates dynasty and in line to one day assume his father’s role as Clan leader. Something within him called to Sophia on such a primitive level, leaving her unable to explain and helpless to resist.


Over the next several months, they spent more and more time together, with Luke instructing her on what it meant to be Clan. Though it frustrated her no end over how slowly the change was occurring for her, Sophia proved herself an apt pupil as she absorbed every little fact she learned.


It wasn’t until the night of the party that Sophia finally tapped into her powers. Luke had decided to make her jealous. She had found him in plain sight, fucking a hill-girl, just feet from the main group of partygoers.


In that moment, the other side of her nature awakened in a rush of rage and jealousy. Blinded by the new sensations, terrified of what it meant, Sophia had run. All she had wanted was to be part of the Clan. God, if she had only known what it truly meant.


She had known, even as her bare feet slapped against the rough, pitted asphalt of the highway, even as she relentlessly drove herself on towards the home she shared with her father, he would follow. Just like she knew he held the distinct advantage over her. While her heart raced and her legs pumped furiously in her dash to safety, she was restricted to the highway. Not Luke, however. He could and did take to the forest, dropping to all fours and shifting natures as easily as flipping a switch.


Sophia had nearly reached her destination when he’d burst through the trees, human once more and unconcerned either with or by his nudity as he tackled her to the ground. She had yelped as she landed and found herself pinned beneath a very naked and very aroused alpha male. Fear and the stirrings of desire warred within her as his gold eyes burned into her from scant inches away. His face lowered then, a warm pink tongue sliding out of his mouth to lap at the hollow at the base of her throat. Terror won out as he ground himself against the apex of her thighs. She didn’t want this. Didn’t want animalistic rutting outside her back door by someone covered in the scent of whatever random bitch he’d just fucked in front of thirty other people.


It was the memory of his earlier activities and the prospect of being dominated that had tears leaking from her eyes,
babbled, incoherent pleas spilled from her lips. Luke stilled over her, his head cocked to the side, gold eyes intent
as his face lowered once more. Even as he buried his nose aginst the skin behind her ear, puffts of warm breath coupled with a soft whine that sent shivers skittering over her body. Without warning, he gave her skin a light, stinging nip and backed off in a blur of motion to fast for her to follow with her eyes.



Luke seemed to vanish into thin air, leaving Sophia lying alone on the grass, staring at the sky and attempting to understand what had happened to her; was, in truth, only beginning to happen to her.


*****


Sophia blinked several times in an effort to clear the sleep from her eyes. In a flash the painful memories rushed back in and grief once more threatened to tear her apart from the soul out. No sooner had the first tears begun to fall than Luke had awakened and curled her into his embrace. He made some sort of keening whine in the back of his throat, a sound that should have been odd coming from a human though she knew it was meant to comfort her, and she felt a lessening of the pain.


Neither of them spoke; there was no need to when everything had been said over and over again. Instead, Luke held her and let her cry out her tears in the warmth in his arms while all around them the sounds of the night creatures in the forest went about their nocturnal lives.


It was almost over, their trip. They had nearly made it to Sunnydale and to the one person Matthew Donner entrusted with the life of his only child. Armed with a hastily written letter, as much money as she could shove into her bag, along with a few changes of clothes and toiletries, Sophia and Luke had fled Wolf Lake. The last words she would ever hear her father speak ringing in her ears as he had ordered Luke to protect his little girl.


Their trip was almost at an end. Sunnydale was near. Sophia’s godfather was near. All she had to do was get to him and he would make things better.


With a sigh, Sophia snuggled in closer against Luke’s chest. The crying jag had worn her out and she once more drifted into a fitful sleep.

tbc
*************************************
Please click here for information on Wolf Lake.
 
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