Chapter Seven

When Buffy awoke much later in the morning, her bed was empty and she had to smother a small pang of regret when she realized Spike had gone back to his own room. She stretched, knowing from the way the sun was coming in that she had slept quite late. A soft knock on the door and Molly stuck her head in to ask if Buffy was ready for her bath. She gave an eager nod and jumped out of the bed to follow the cheerful servant girl down the hall to where the bathtub had been filled with clean, steaming water.

After thanking Molly effusively, Buffy sank into the warm water, sighing in satisfaction. She tilted her head back to wet her hair and began the process of cleaning off the grime of the past two days.

When she emerged from the bathroom sometime later, wrapped from head to toe in fluffy towels, she was startled to find Spike heading in her direction. His warning frown told her Molly was somewhere nearby and she bit back the question she was going to ask him as he headed into the bathroom.

Molly was waiting in her room, holding up some complicated-looking undergarments and one of the floral gowns Buffy had purchased the day before. In spite of Buffy’s insistence that in her “country” she didn’t have to wear such confining things under her dresses, Molly was quite firm that she had to have the proper underwear on in order not to embarrass her husband. With much grumbling, Buffy allowed the giggling girl to dress her in a tight-fitting corset that pushed her breasts up into plump mounds and huge bloomers that covered her from waist to knees.

Putting her foot down, Buffy refused to put on the stockings and garters until she was actually leaving the house, and Molly reluctantly gave in and allowed her to put on the dress and go downstairs barefoot. As she enjoyed the delicious and filling breakfast Mrs. Barstow had made for them, Buffy remembered that Spike had not had any blood since they left Sunnydale and she worried about how she was going to get it for him.

The problem was taken out of her hands when an errand boy showed up at the kitchen door saying he had a package for the Mr. Sinclair from the barrister. Mrs. Barstow tried to take it from him, but he stubbornly insisted that he was told to give it only to Mr. Sinclair’s hand. Buffy heard Spike’s footsteps coming down the stairs and quickly intervened saying, “I’m Mrs. Sinclair. You can give the package to me and I will see that he gets it. Tell Mr. Saint-John that we are most grateful.”

She gave him her most dazzling smile and took the package out of his hand while he was busy staring in awe at the blond goddess who was speaking to him. She went into the hallway and intercepted Spike before he got to the kitchen, saying loudly enough for the other humans to hear, “William, Darling, here is the package you’ve been expecting from Mr. Saint-John.”

Giving her a grateful smile, Spike took the package into his study and placed in a locking drawer of his desk. Then he rejoined Buffy and they went back to the kitchen where he pretended to eat breakfast with her.

When Mrs. Barstow and Molly had left to go to the market, after being assured that Spike and Buffy would be perfectly all right by themselves, he carried a large glass into his study and poured the newly arrived blood into it.

Buffy watched curiously as he drained it quickly, an expression of pure delight on his face as the still-warm liquid slid over his tongue and down his throat. After watching him lean back and close his eyes, rubbing his newly filled stomach, Buffy suddenly realized why he looked so satiated.

“Oh my God! That was human blood, wasn’t it? He sent you human blood!”

The vampire opened one eye and looked at her happily.

“Yes, it was human. First I’ve had in a very long time, I might add. And it was wonderful.”

“I’ll find a butcher shop tomorrow,” Buffy vowed, ignoring his pained expression.

“Buffy-” he started.

“Spike! You cannot drink human blood! I can’t just sit here and let you—“

“Bloody hell, Slayer! It’s not like I went out and killed somebody for it! And if I ask for pig’s blood, Saint-John is going to wonder what’s going on. Don’t forget, in this time I’m part of the Scourge of Europe. I don’t drink pigs’ blood. I don’t even usually have to buy it. He’s probably wondering why I don’t just go out and get my own every night.”

Their eyes met and held as they silently battled to a standstill. Buffy realized Spike was not going to yield on this issue and she surprised both herself and him by, after several minutes, nodding her head in agreement and saying, “I guess you’re right. I’ll just have to hope the donors were willing.”

He tilted his head and studied her for a few seconds, then said simply, “Thank you.”

Buffy blushed slightly under his lengthy look and said sternly, “Well, don’t think I’m going to let you get away with that when we get home, though!”

He laughed, causing her to stick her lip out in a pout.

“I mean it!”

“Know you do, pet. I was just laughing because I’m not sure we SHOULD go back to Sunnyhell.”

“What?”

“Think about it, luv. You like being rich and waited on, I like having human blood delivered to my door….”

“You are SOOOO evil!” She couldn’t stop the grin that accompanied her words and he laughed again.

“Does that mean you’re tempted?”

Buffy sobered and said softly, “Not if it means I’ve got to have those dreams every night.”

“You didn’t have another one after I went back to my room, did you?” he asked anxiously. “I waited as long as I could, but the curtains aren’t heavy in that room and I didn’t think you’d feature waking up next to a pile of dust.”

“No,” she blushed again, “I was fine even after you…left. But I don’t know what will happen tonight…each one has been worse than the one before…”

“Got to be a warning, pet. We jus’ need to figure out what it’s warning you about.”

“I guess so. In the meantime, maybe we could sleep with the doors open…?” She looked away from Spike as she said it, so that she wouldn’t have to see if he hated the idea, but he just said calmly, “Sure, pet. That sounds like a plan.”

Her look of relief tugged at him briefly and he vowed to do what he could to prevent any more of the frightening dreams about his vampire family.

Buffy spent the rest of the day wandering around the garden and trying to read, but she found the few Victorian novels William had in his library to be hard going and wordy. By the time evening had come around and they had eaten another delicious meal, she was pacing from room to room with barely disguised impatience.

In spite of the way he laughed at her attempts to hide her desire for physical activity under a veil of lady-like behavior, Spike was getting as restless as she was for some kind of release for his pent up energy. When Molly had retreated to her bedroom and her rhythmic breathing told Spike she was asleep, he peered into Buffy’s room to find her staring out the window and bouncing on her toes.

“Fancy a spot of violence tonight, luv?” he asked teasingly, knowing she was not used to the kind of inactivity that was the lot of well-to-do Victorian women.

“Do you think we could find some?” she asked hopefully, turning around to face him.

“I’m sure we can find something or someone to beat up on, Slayer. Get out of that oversized nightie and let’s go find something to slay.”

Grabbing her least restrictive dress and her own boots, Buffy ran behind the dressing screen and quickly got ready to go out. Spike fought down the urge to peek behind the screen and waited patiently for her near the door.

Buffy quickly came out from behind the screen, cursing the way the long dress wrapped around her legs when she tried to walk fast.

“I have got to find a way to get some pants to wear slaying,” she grumbled, twitching the hem of the skirt to make it hang straight.

“Leave it to me to marry a woman who wants to scandalize the entire population of London,” he laughed.

“I mean it, Spike! Surely the current slayer doesn’t try to fight in an outfit like this?”

“Don’t know pet, this was a little before my ‘slay the slayers’ phase. The Chinese girl was wearing pants, but that’s what the women wear in that country. Kinda like pajamas, they were…” His reminiscing trailed off as he caught a look at Buffy’s face and realized he had just blown two nights of good will by reminding her of his past activities.

“Bollocks,” he muttered as she stormed past him and down the stairs, her good mood completely forgotten.

They went quietly out the front door of the house so as not to awaken Molly, walking in tense silence for several blocks before Spike touched her arm gently to stop her and said, “Buffy, I’m sor-“

She shook her head, interrupting his attempt to apologize. “No, Spike, I’m sorry. I know what you are and what you’ve done. It’s my fault for letting myself forget that sometimes. It’s me I’m mad at, not you.”

She shrugged and continued walking, slower this time as she began to cast her senses around for any trace of demons or vampires. Spike stood staring after her for a few seconds, then hastened to catch up.

“If that was supposed to make me feel better, luv, it didn’t quite get the job done,” he said quietly once he was even with her again. “I’m not that same vampire, Buffy. You know I’m not. I’m changing – don’t know if it’s the chip or if it’s being around you so much, but whichever it is, I’ve got a different outlook about Slayers now.”

“Which would be?” she stubbornly refused to look at him until he stepped in front of her, forcing her to halt or run into his chest.

“Which would be that I could no more think about killing you than dusting myself.”

The complete seriousness of his expression and the words she knew in her heart were true, ratcheted the tension back up several notches. Her heart rate accelerated and her breathing became faster as she tried to deny the bolt of happiness that had gone through her at his words.

“Is that so?” she snarked in an effort to break the tension and put them back on a more normal footing.

“Well,” he said, just as glad as she was to drop the subject, “it would be a lie to say I never THINK about killing you. You are a really irritating bint sometimes. But I wouldn’t do it. Would make my life too boring.”

“Right back at you, fangface,” she answered with a small smile. “Now, can we go find something we DO want to kill?”

“Think it might be on its way, Slayer,” his voice had changed tone and he was staring up the street to where several young men loitered under a gas lamp.

Buffy looked at the small group and raised her eyebrows. “Are they vampires?”

“No, they’re human enough, but the excitement I sensed when they saw us coming tells me they see us as easy victims for them. I won’t be able to do much, pet, so I guess you get to take out your extra energy all by yourself.”

“Pooh!” Buffy pouted, “I really wanted to be able to slay something.”

Chapter Eight

As the men approached and surrounded the couple, Buffy shrugged and said, “I guess I’ll have to settle for beating something up.”

Spike laughed as he ducked a blackjack that had been intended for his head. “Guess so, pet. Have fun.”

After the man had ducked and twisted away from them so many times they had decided to forget about him, the small gang of muggers focused on the woman who was watching Spike’s dodging and weaving with admiring interest. Since her escort had made no attempt to hit anyone, and seemed unconcerned with the girl’s safety, they concluded he was a coward and would not interfere with their plans.

The leader of the small group reached out a hand to tug on Buffy’s long hair, using it to pull her toward him.

“Ow!” she complained loudly. “Did anyone ever tell you, you fight like a girl?”

Instead of pulling away as the man expected, she stepped in closer and grabbed his belt in one tiny hand, using it to lift him up in the air until his feet were off the ground. She could hear Spikes snort of laughter behind her as the man’s eyes bugged out when he realized what was happening to him. To his credit, he recovered quickly and threw a punch at Buffy’s face.

Compared to being hit be a vampire or demon, the punch really didn’t amount to much, but it did split Buffy’s lip and she heard Spike growl behind her at the scent of her blood.

“Ok, NOW, I’m mad,” she said angrily as she dropped the man to the ground. “That was not very nice.”

While his gang members looked back and forth in confusion between the tiny, angry girl and the laughing man leaning against the lamp post, the leader threw another punch at Buffy only to find it blocked very effectively by the still annoyed-looking girl. He tried two more times, finding each one blocked with a speed he couldn’t even follow with his eyes. Then he found himself flying backwards to land in the street, his jaw aching and his arse in a fresh pile of manure.

With a snarl, he leaped to his feet and charged the eager-looking girl, waving at his men to get behind her. As he reached Buffy, intending to carry her to the ground with his greater weight, he was once again propelled through the air, this time over her shoulder and into two of his advancing cronies. Buffy shifted her weight, intending to land a roundhouse kick on the other men quickly moving in to the fray, only to find her kick impeded by the voluminous skirt she was wearing. Instead of knocking the remaining footpads out of the picture, she found herself off balance and unable to stop her momentum as she stumbled and tripped on the long dress.

With a triumphant shout, her intended victim brought his black jack down on her head. If he was surprised that the blow that would have killed most people only stunned the surprisingly aggressive woman, he didn’t let it slow him down as he advanced for the killing blow.

Suddenly he was being held up in the air by her previously forgotten escort who was snarling in his face, “You really didn’t want to do that, Mate.”

When Spike’s face shifted and the men got a look at the monster they’d discounted as a factor in the assault, anyone not currently suspended in midair with a master vampire’s hand around his throat took to his heels, leaving the hapless blackjack wielder behind. Spike was squeezing the man’s neck, waiting for the chip to kick in and stop him, when he realized that the silent mugger was almost dead.

He quickly dropped the unconscious man on the street and backed away. He was still waiting for the pain to hit him as he checked the man’s vital signs, breathing a sigh of relief when he found the heart beat to be fairly strong and heard the man gasping in much-needed gulps of air.

Leaving the would-be murderer on the ground, he went over to where Buffy was sitting up and rubbing the back of her head. She was swearing a blue streak and Spike had to grin at the look on the man’s face when he focused his bleary eyes on the sweet looking little girl that had almost single-handed wiped out his whole gang and realized that the words were coming from her mouth.

Spike helped Buffy to her feet, ignoring the man trying to scuttle away without being noticed by the now human-looking monster. The vampire leaned in without thinking and gingerly licked the blood off her rapidly-swelling lip. Not having realized what he was about to do, Buffy’s own tongue was coming out to lick off her lip and she froze when she realized why there was no blood left to lick. The tip of her tongue just brushed Spike’s before he withdrew with a gasp and looked at her apologetically.

“‘M sorry, pet,” he whispered, resisting the temptation to run his tongue lightly over her lip again. “It’s the best way I know to stop the bleeding. Should have warned you what I was gonna do, I guess.”

“Ye- yes, warning would have been good. Then I wouldn’t have put my tongue out there and your tongue and my tongue…oh, God…”

Before they could follow up on the way their bodies were leaning toward each other, the potential mugger/rapist/murderer made a noise as he got to his feet and tried to run away. Spike was in front of him before he had gone three steps and he whimpered in fear, turning to go the other way, only to find himself facing the girl he’d tried to kill.

Buffy hiked her skirt up around her waist, freeing up her lower legs, and swept her leg around toward his face in the kick she’d intended to take in the first place. The man’s head snapped back and his eyes crossed as he flew backwards and landed in the gutter. When it was clear that he was down for the count, Buffy released her breath in a relieved “whoosh.”

“I feel much better now,” she said brightly, dropping her skirts and shaking them out. “Let’s go find something else to fight.”

Spike was staring at her with glazed eyes and she walked up to him, waving her hand in front of his face.

“Spike? William? Are you in there?”

He blinked a couple of times and then gave her a slow, lip-licking smile.

“You do know you aren’t wearing any knickers under there, don’t you, Slayer?”

“What? That’s crazy! Of course I’m wearing…knick- whatever. I distinctly remember…remember…remember deciding I didn’t want to wear those ridiculous bloomers and getting my own…own…oh…my…god. I forgot my underwear. I’m naked under here!”

She clutched her skirts tightly around her and tried not to notice the way Spike’s eyes lasered in on her crotch as though he could see through the layers of fabric. One look at his face and she knew she’d said the wrong thing.

“I…we…need to go home now,” she said in a small, squeaky voice.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he replied, licking his lips again and moving closer to her. “I thought you wanted to slay something.”

“If you don’t get that look off your face, it’s going to be you,” she said as firmly as she could while she backed away slowly. Her heart was beating like a trip hammer and she could feel moisture seeping from her as Spike continued to advance, still boring holes in her with his darkened eyes. She suddenly felt more naked wearing the modest, ankle-length dress than she did in her smallest bikini.

Who knew not wearing underwear could feel so…so…sexy. No! Not sexy. So freeing. That’s it. It’s freeing. I’m free to….to kick people and flash the sexy vampire. No, no flashing the vampire. Bad Buffy!

“Oh, look! I think I see a vampire! I’ll beat you to him!”

With a frightened squeal, Buffy took off running just before Spike’s reaching hands could touch her shoulders. She threw a look over her shoulder to see him glaring after her with a frustrated look on his face. Laughing, she shouted, “If you’re just going to stand there, you’ll miss the show when I kick this one.”

She heard him growl and sped up, hiking up her skirt just enough to give her some freedom of movement. She could hear his pounding feet behind her and knew she wasn’t going to be able to stay ahead of him dressed the way she was. Spike, though, had stopped growling and was laughing himself as he chased her, staying close enough to keep her running, but not so close as to end the chase.

After a couple days spent in enforced lassitude, Buffy was reveling in the feeling of the wind in her face and the comfortable stretching and flexing of her muscles. She had given up the pretense that she was chasing a vampire and was just enjoying the run through the velvety night when the nagging thought occurred to her that they were mimicking the scene in her first dream.

No sooner had she had that thought and begun to slow down, then she felt the tingles that told her there was a vampire near-by. She was so used to Spike’s signature, that she easily discarded it coming from behind her and focused on what was in front of her. She slowed even more, waiting for Spike to catch up to her before going into a fighting stance.

She could sense that he was in game face, and knew he was feeling the same thing she was. Just as she was pulling the stake from the deep pocket in her dress, he grabbed her arm and said, “No, Buffy. Not this time.”

Frowning at him in confusion and anger, she asked, “What do you mean, not this time? There are vampires ahead and I’m the Slayer.”

“I can feel the vampires, pet. They’re family. MY family. And you’re not dressed to take them on, even if you do have me to help you.”

“Family? You mean…” Her head spun back toward the shadows ahead of them, her eyes frantically searching for any sign of Angelus or the two female vampires she knew would be with him. She was seized with a sudden fear that left her almost hyperventilating as she flashed back to her dream and her helplessness.

“My dream,” she whispered, backing up behind Spike just as she had in the dream.

“Hiding behind Will isn’t going to help you, little girl,” came an eerily familiar, yet cold and cruel voice from the shadows.

“Wrong again, Peaches,” Spike snarled, placing himself between Buffy and the now visible vampires ahead of them.

Angelus stopped in confusion, taken back both by the nickname and the completely defiant and unafraid stance of the vampire in front of him. Drusilla drifted up beside him to coo, “Ooooh, it’s my darling William, all grown up. How delicious he looks.”

“Time to go, pet,” Spike whispered, taking her hand and backing away.

Although Buffy was furious at herself, she knew that he was right. She was in no shape, mentally or physically to take on three fourths of the Scourge of Europe. And she had no idea where the fourth member might be.

She yanked her dress up again, not caring if she flashed all of London, and flew off behind Spike, sprinting until they were back in a busier part of the city and among crowds. As soon as they could sense there was no pursuit, Buffy dropped her skirts and ran as best she could with the long dress flapping around her legs and tangling between her knees.

When they had reached the relative safety of a populated area and mingled with the crowds leaving nearby theatres and bars, they slowed to a brisk walk. Spike didn’t drop her hand and Buffy found herself grateful for the continued physical contact as she tried to deal with the terror she’d felt when pieces of her dream seemed to be happening in front of her.

They walked slowly back toward the residential area, hands still linked. When passers-by gave shocked glances at the two blonds strolling along hand in hand, one flash of Spike’s true face was enough to make them avert their eyes quickly and find something else to be shocked about.

They reached the house and let themselves back in quietly. When Buffy went to speak, Spike squeezed her hand for silence while he listened carefully to be sure Molly was still asleep. Nodding his head in satisfaction when he heard her rhythmic breathing and steady heartbeat, he reluctantly released Buffy’s hand and gestured toward the stairs.

As soon as they were safely in her room, Buffy threw herself back on the bed, exclaiming, “Well, that wasn’t exactly how I hoped the night would go, but at least we’re safe from them now.”

Spike looked at her, lying spread across the bed, her arms out in a gesture of relief and wondered when and how this slip of a woman became so important to him.

“Wish you were right, pet,” he said slowly, taking a hard look around the room.

She sat up abruptly, glaring at him.

“What do you mean, you wish I was right? We’re inside, they’re outside, they can’t get in without an invita- oh, shit.”

She threw herself back on the bed in disgust.

“The house’s owner is a dead man. They don’t need an invitation, do they?”

“Fraid not, luv. Not at the moment, anyway. Gonna fix that tomorrow, but for now, want you to sleep downstairs so I can watch over both you and Molly for the rest of the night.”

“How are you going to fix it?” she asked, picking up her nightgown and going behind the screen.

“Don’t you worry about it. I’ve got it figured out. Just can’t do anything about it until tomorrow.”

She frowned at him curiously, but didn’t press the issue. She changed quickly and, carrying her pillow and a blanket as well as a couple of stakes, she followed him downstairs to the study.

“This ought to do it,” he said, looking around at the leather couch by the window. “Although I think I’d be more comfortable if that was over here.” As he spoke, he was moving the couch effortlessly into the middle of the room in front of his desk.

“What are you going to do while I’m sleeping?” Buffy inquired softly as she settled herself on the old, but comfortable couch.

“I’ve got some paperwork to keep me busy. You just get some kip.” He came over to the make-shift bed and knelt down beside her, stoking her hair softly. “And how about no more dreams about the great poof until we suss out what’s going on?”

“You don’t think I LIKE being terrified every night, do you?” she demanded indignantly. “Maybe I should just stay awake with you – no sleep means no more Slayer dreams and…oh god, it almost happened. They ARE Slayer dreams.”

With a groan, she dropped her head onto the cool hand still touching her hair. After a second’s hesitation, Spike began to rub his thumb in gentle circles on her cheek as he tried to reassure her.

“Seems like,” he agreed, “but it didn’t go like your dream, did it, pet? You didn’t go all catatonic on me, and I’m not all beat up and what not. We got away without any damage, so that’s all good, yeah?”

“That’s the thing about Slayer dreams,” she grumbled, still leaning into his caressing hand. “You never know what parts are real and what parts are just embellishment to confuse you!”

He grinned at her pouting tone and stood up after giving her one last lingering caress. In spite of the danger they were in, her nearness was having its usual effect on his libido and he needed to get behind his desk before he was tempted to follow up his reassuring touches with something less reassuring and more demanding.


Chapter Nine

Buffy settled down on the sofa, giving Spike a grateful look when he dimmed the lamp for her. In spite of her determination to stay awake, she fell into a restless, but dream-free sleep, while Spike pulled some papers from his desk and began writing out letters and instructions.

Sometime before dawn, he realized that the tenor of Molly’s heartbeat had changed and he leaped to his feet, heading for the kitchen and the small servant’s room just off the hall. In spite of his vampire stealth, his rising woke Buffy and she grabbed her stakes and slipped down the hall after him.

When they saw the kitchen door swinging on its hinges, both leapt toward the door of Molly’s room, only to find it opening onto a frightening sight.

Molly was standing in the center of the small room, staring mindlessly ahead, while Drusilla walked around her, lightly running her claws around the immobile girl’s throat, leaving thin trails of blood behind.

“Please tell me I’m having another dream,” Buffy said softly as she watched the insane vampire licking the blood off her fingers.

“Sorry, Slayer,” Spike breathed softly, “Looks like we have the real thing here. He held out his arm when Buffy went to rush past him, saying quietly, “She’ll be dead before you get there, pet.”

Remembering Kendra’s slit throat caused by those same talons, Buffy stopped beside him, her body trembling with the need to destroy the vampire dancing around the servant girl she was coming to like so much. Drusilla cocked her head at them, her claws never leaving their position over Molly’s jugular and said sadly, “It’s true, isn’t it, my grown-up William? You don’t love your dark princess anymore. You want to bask in the sunshine. I should be very cross with you.”

“No need to be cross with me, luv. You know you’ll always be my ripe, wicked plum. But we’ve moved on, we have. You left me, Dru. Left me for your ‘daddy’ and then for a chaos demon. A vamp’s got his limits, pet.”

Dru switched her gaze to Buffy’s cold, angry face and cocked her head in sudden understanding. “Oooh, Daddy’s going to get a surprise from this one,” she said with delight. “You must be careful, William. He will not want you to have her.”

“Not his choice,” he said flatly. “You’ll be wanting to stay out of it, Dru. Jus’ telling you that for old times’ sake. Now why don’t you be a good girl and let the chit go?”

The former seer cocked her head again and hummed to herself. “If I kill the girl, your sunshine will stake me, won’t she?”

“Most likely,” he agreed, still holding Buffy back.

“All right, my love,” she said, stepping away from Molly’s swaying body. “But Angelus is not going to be so kind.”

“You let us worry about the big poof, Dru. Just get yourself out of here.”

Buffy glared at him in fury as he backed away to let the brunette vampire out of the room. Her body thrummed with the need to plunge her stake into the other vampire’s heart and she couldn’t believe Spike was standing between them.

“What are you doing?” she hissed furiously, trying to get around him. “I’m not letting her walk out of here! Look what she did to Molly!”

“Molly’s alive, Slayer,” he said in a flat, cold voice that she hadn’t heard from him in years. “Let it go.”

By the time Buffy had shoved him away, Drusilla was out of the room and out of the house. Buffy whirled toward Spike, ready to beat him to a pulp for denying her the kill, when she saw him gently laying Molly down on her bed. He bent over the girl and quickly ran his tongue around the bleeding marks on her neck. Before Buffy could scream at him for taking advantage of the unconscious girl, she remembered how he’d stopped her lip from bleeding and saw that the very shallow cuts on Molly’s neck were no longer oozing blood.

She watched in barely restrained anger as he wrapped the girl in her blanket and carried her carefully into the study, laying her down at the opposite end of the couch from where Buffy had been sleeping. He didn’t even acknowledge Buffy’s presence until Molly was sleeping peacefully on her side. When he was sure she was as comfortable as he could make her, he stood up and took a deep, unnecessary breath before turning to face the still angry Slayer.

“Do you want to hear my reasons before you start hitting me? Or shall we just go right to the beat-down and get it out of the way?”

With a shaky sigh, Buffy relaxed and dropped the stake still clenched in her hand. “I’ll listen,” she said tightly, “But they’d been be damn good ones.”

Holding up a slender, yet powerful hand, he bent one finger down as he said with no inflection, “Number one - we don’t know whether we are back in time in our universe, or if we have been sent to another dimension. So anything we do here can have permanent repercussions back in Sunnydale. That includes killing Dru, or Angelus or anybody else whose absence might have an effect down the road. Number two – if you remember your dreams, Dru never touched you, in fact she tried to warn you in some of them. Seems to me, if those Slayer dreams are gonna start coming true, it might be useful to have somebody on our side. Number three – if she’d wanted Molly dead, she could have done it long before we got here. She had her in thrall, all she would have had to do is walk out the door with her. I don’t think she was planning to kill her, I think she was trying to make a point.”

“Which would be?”

“That Angelus can get to us whenever he wants to. That we’re not safe here.”

“Anything else?” Buffy asked with the beginnings of a pout at being presented with such good reasons, none of which she’d thought of in her desire to dust the insane vampire.

He tilted his head at her and said quietly, “And I could no more stand by and watch you dust Dru than I could let her kill you. I’m sorry, luv, that’s just the way it is.”

Choosing to ignore the second part of his remarks as not fitting her preferred world-view, Buffy said haughtily, “I guess that’s all I can expect of a vampire, chipped or not.”

She saw the pain flash across Spike’s face, but before she could apologize he said coldly, “Right, Slayer. That’s all you can expect.”

He turned his back on her and walked to his desk, sitting down heavily and slumping back against the chair. He didn’t look up as he growled, “So then, I suppose that means if you get a chance to stake the big poof, possibly preventing him from ever finding his way to Sunnyhell and into your virginal little knickers, you’ll do it. Is that right?”

Buffy stood still; scenes of long, yearning kisses in the graveyard, fighting side by side against the Mayor’s minions, Giles’ devastation after finding Jenny’s body, memories on her one night of passion with Angel that ended so badly all flowing through her head. It occurred to her that not having Angel in Sunnydale or her life wouldn’t necessarily be such a bad thing. Then she realized that no Angel probably meant no truce with Spike, perhaps no Spike at all, and she opened her mouth to say so, only to discover she was too late.

His head was thrown back, his eyes squeezed shut as he gritted out between clenched teeth, “Yeah, that’s what I thought, Slayer. Makes a difference if it’s somebody YOU love.”

She wanted to blurt out that he was a soulless demon and couldn’t love, but she knew in her heart that was a lie. He’d loved and cared for Drusilla for over a hundred years, and he obviously still loved his long-dead mother. Then anger took over again as she realized he thought she wouldn’t stake Angel only because she loved him when she was sixteen.

Stomping over to where he sat leaning back in his chair with his eyes still closed and a sad look on his face, she stood in front of him tapping her foot until he opened his eyes and glared at her.

“What? You aren’t done yet?”

“No, I’m not done yet. I didn’t answer you right away because I was thinking about it. About all the things that would and wouldn’t happen if there was no Angel. And I decided that –“

“And you decided that it was important to have the great brooding one in your life. Yeah, I got the picture.”

“No you didn’t, you moron.” She was so angry her cheeks were bright red and her chest was heaving as she breathed in and out. Spike was so distracted by the way she looked, he almost missed it when she said in a growl that would have done credit to a vampire, “I don’t want there to be no Angel, because then you would never have come to Sunnydale and made that truce with me, and you wouldn’t be here with me now, and I…”

“And you what?” he asked carefully, sitting up straighter in his chair.

“AndIwouldmissyou,” she muttered quickly, turning away with a flushed face. She stamped back over to the couch and curled up at the end away from Molly, refusing to look at him anymore.

The vampire stared at her flaming face in astonishment for several minutes, then gradually relaxed back into his chair, a slow smile spreading across his face. “All right, then,” he said softly.

With the coming of dawn, Spike knew they were safe for the day and he allowed himself to drift off to sleep as well as he could in his less than comfortable chair. When he woke up, it was to see Buffy shepherding a puzzled Molly back to her room with an explanation of how some animal got in her room last night and they couldn’t wake her up so they put her with them to keep her safe.

The confused girl nodded her head as though she knew what Buffy was talking about, and went in to her room to dress. She gave a little shriek when she saw the blood stains on her night gown and Buffy hastened in to show her how the scratches were already healing and that the blood made it look worse than it was. She could see from the girl’s worried frown that bits and pieces of the past night were flitting through her head and she hoped they could convince her she’d had a bad dream brought on by the “animal attack”.

Buffy said “good morning” to Mrs. Barstow as she bustled in the door preparing to start breakfast and then went back to the study to check on Spike. She could feel the older woman’s eyes on her back as she walked away, her nightgown swirling about her ankles. She giggled to herself at the idea of the woman spotting Spike sitting at his desk with nothing on but his own nightshirt, and determined to send him upstairs to sleep before he shocked his old family cook.

To her surprise, he was awake and yawning when she entered the study and they both looked away uncomfortably, neither one sure what to say about the night’s events. Finally, Spike picked up some notes he’d been working on and gave them to Buffy saying, “Give these to the boy who brings my blood and tell him to take them to Mr. Saint-John immediately. We need to get this situation fixed before sunset.”

Buffy wasn’t sure what Mr. Saint-John was going to be able to do to remedy their problem, but she nodded and took the notes back into the kitchen, repeating the message to Molly and Mrs. Barstow in case she wasn’t back down from getting dressed before the boy arrived.

When she was ready to go back downstairs, having managed to dress herself except for buttoning up the back of her dress, she ran into Spike as he came out of his room tucking a shirt into his unfastened pants. She resolutely turned her eyes away from the bulge in the front of his pants, thereby allowing him to see that her dress was not buttoned.

“Come here, pet,” he said with a sigh. “You can’t go downstairs like that.”

When she walked over to him obediently, he turned her around and began the tedious process of buttoning all the tiny pearls running up the back of her gown.

“Bloody brilliant, he was,” he growled, trying to fit his large fingers around the small buttons.

“Who was?”

“The bloke who invented zippers, that’s who.”

Buffy giggled and tipped her head back to look at him over her shoulder. “You don’t have to do this, you know. Molly’s right downstairs. She can do it for me.”

“I don’t mind,” he mumbled. “I kinda like it.” He brushed a chaste kiss across her lips, startling them both with its tenderness. To save face, he immediately leered at her and said boldly, “Course, I’d rather be undoing them…”

“You are such a pig,” she breathed in a voice that made it sound more like she’d just told him he was a hero.

“That I am, luv,” he answered, equally softly. “I truly am.”

“Okay then. Just so you know.” She blushed and moved away from the cool hands that had remained resting lightly on her shoulders. He shook himself and went back to fastening his pants.

“I’ll be down in a few minutes, pet.”

“Why don’t you stay up here and sleep?” she asked with uncharacteristic concern. “You were up all night.”

“’S’allright, luv. Got a lot to do this morning. I’ll catch a nap this afternoon if we’re done with everything.”

By the time Buffy got downstairs, the delivery boy had been and gone with the messages and Spike’s package containing his blood was sitting on the hall table. Buffy picked it up quickly and carried it into his study, putting it away in the drawer he’d used the day before.

While Molly and her aunt worked on preparing the evening meal, and the other girl went around dusting and polishing the pieces of furniture that hadn’t been cleaned yet, Buffy walked out into the garden. She sat on a bench for awhile, almost falling asleep in the warm sunshine as she basked in the warm day that Spike assured her was not typical of London’s weather.

She didn’t see the shadow staring out at her from the upstairs window; the shadow that watched her hair glowing in the sunlight and remembered Dru’s “your sunshine”. He watched her basking in the light, head back and eyes shut as she absorbed the warmth and wondered what he was thinking, hoping she would want to spend time in the dark with him.


Chapter Ten

When Buffy came back in the house carrying an armful of freshly cut flowers, she found that Mr. Saint-John had arrived and she was needed in the study. She gave the flowers to Molly to arrange, taking just one long stemmed aster with her into the study. She smiled politely at the barrister, not too sure how the slayer should feel about meeting someone whose law firm apparently did business with vampires and demons. He smiled tightly back at her and she got the impression that he and Spike had been arguing before she came in. She walked over to Spike, tickling his ear with the flower in her hand and greeting him softly.

“Look what I found in the garden, William. Just like we have at home.”

“Very pretty, pet,” he said, sliding an arm around her waist. “Mr. Saint-John has some papers for you to sign. They are quite important,” he said, emphasizing the “quite important” so she wouldn’t argue. Buffy frowned at him for a second, but was unable to think of any way her signing anything in an alternate dimension London or generations in her past could impact her life in twenty-first century Sunnydale. She leaned over the desk and took the pen Spike handed her, glancing over the papers in front of her. She could see where William James Sinclair had already affixed his signature and the date – 1898 – she noticed.

The attorney pointed to the places she needed to sign and offered to read the document for her. She gave him a glare and said, “I can read just fine, thank you.” However, after spending long minutes trying to decipher the archaic legal terms, she gave up and looked at Spike helplessly.

“It just says, darling, that I am making you the owner of the house. All you have to do is sign where you’re shown and it will be all yours. Just put your full signature, Buffy Anne Summers Sinclair,” he emphasized in case she should forget that they were supposed to be married.

Buffy’s mouth fell open and she looked at the vampire in shock. “Wha-? William, I can’t do this. It’s your home…”

He interrupted her and said to the attorney, “Would you be so kind as to let me have a moment alone with my wife?”

As soon as the man left the room, he turned to a still-protesting Buffy and grabbed her shoulders. “You have to do this, pet. If it’s your house, no vampires can get in. As long as it’s mine, there’s nothing to stop them. I’m quite fond of Mrs. Barstow and Molly and I have no desire to leave them at the mercy of Angelus. Not to mention, I don’t fancy having to play guard dog all night every night to keep you safe.”

“But, but…it’s your HOME,” she almost wailed. “You shouldn’t have to give it away.”

“I shouldn’t have to be talking you into taking possession of a very nice house in a good area of modern London, either, but here I am. Now when you get called on the carpet by the Council of Wankers you can have your own place to stay.”

“I’ll sign it,” she said seriously, “But it will always be your house, Spike. I wouldn’t take it from you.”

“No, luv, it’s yours. There can’t be any caveats or half-measures. Anything less and it won’t serve its purpose.”

“Well, go me. I’m a homeowner!” she said in a somewhat subdued voice.

“Will be as soon as you put your dainty little autograph there,” he agreed, going to the door and inviting the lawyer back into the room.

Once Buffy had signed her name, Spike and Mr. Saint-John concluded their business and the man left for his office, the transfer papers tucked in his briefcase.

“Oh, by the way, Slayer,” he said offhandedly tossing her a package. “He brought something else for you.”

Buffy turned the soft parcel over in her hands, finally ripping off the paper to find a pair of boy’s trousers. She held them up to her waist, saw that they were just the right length and ran over to Spike to hug him and kiss his cheek. “You have no idea how glad I am to have these!” she said, kissing him again for emphasis.

“Daft bint,” he chuckled. “I give you a house and you want to argue. Buy you pair of cheap pants and you get all girly on me.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, blushing for her enthusiasm. “I just hated not being able to fight well last night. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“Didn’t say I didn’t like it, luv,” he rumbled, pulling her into another hug. “Jus’ caught me by surprise is all.” When she didn’t pull away, he nuzzled her ear, inhaling the scent of sun-warmed skin still coming off her body. They remained like that – neither one willing to admit they wanted more and neither one wanting it to end – until Molly came in to announce luncheon in the dining room.

After Buffy had eaten a light lunch, and Spike had gulped down his blood in the privacy of his study, the night’s activities began to catch up with them and Buffy couldn’t stop yawning while Spike appeared to be falling asleep at his desk again. If the servants wondered why he spent so much time in the darkened study, they didn’t say and Buffy concluded that their ability to ignore what they didn’t want to know would make them excellent denizens of Sunnydale.

Finally they gave up pretending they were anything but exhausted and Buffy went to the kitchen to tell Molly that she and William were going to take naps for a couple of hours and would be back down in time for supper.

Molly gave her a surreptitious wink when her aunt wasn’t looking and Buffy blushed as though caught out. As she followed Spike upstairs, her heart rate went up as she wondered where he was planning to sleep. She knew her room was too bright for the vampire to come into safely in the daytime, but she didn’t want to alarm the rest of the household if she had one of her dreams of Angelus during her nap.

As though he’d read her mind, Spike said softly, “Put something more comfortable on, pet and come in my room to sleep. I don’t fancy going up in flames if you start screaming again.”

She nodded her head silently and turned to go into her room, stopping with a gasp as she felt a cool hand on her neck.

“Let me get those for you, first,” he said in a low rumble as he began to unbutton the dress he’d buttoned for her earlier in the day. By the time his fingers had undone the first four buttons, Buffy was sure that she was going to melt into a puddle before he was finished. She thought the slow process of unbuttoning her dress was the most erotic thing she’d ever been part of; and yet, Spike had done nothing overtly sexual. All he did was undo each button one at a time, very slowly. Each undone button exposed a little more of the skin on her back to his cool breath and she shivered in response to that and to his touch barely skimming her exposed skin.

Spike found himself mesmerized by the tan skin being bared in front of him. He was taking deep, unneeded breaths that were matching the Slayer’s heavier inhalations breath for breath… When he felt her shiver as his hand grazed her back, he bit back a groan, his engorged cock throbbing from the close proximity to her. When he smelled the arousal she couldn’t hide, he gave in to his body’s demands and leaned down to run his lips along her exposed shoulders.

Buffy’s whimper at the touch of his mouth emboldened him and he slid his hands into the partially unfastened dress, running his cool fingers around her ribs to just below her breasts.

“St…stop,” she whispered, as she leaned back against him. “We have to stop…”

“Can’t,” he said shortly, stroking the bottom of her breasts with his thumbs. “You’ll have to stop me, Slayer.”

“I…I don’t want to…ah!” Buffy arched into his hands as he finally cupped her breasts and began rolling her nipples between his fingers until they were hard little knots aching for more.

Spike’s mouth was running freely from one ear lobe down the column of her neck to where her dress was just barely clinging to her shoulder, then across her upper back to the other shoulder and back up to the other ear. As he left wet, open mouthed kisses over her heated skin, he was murmuring about what the feel and scent of her skin was doing to him and Buffy lost herself in the sensual pleasure of letting his voice wash over her while his lips coaxed goosebumps from her flesh and moisture from her throbbing center.

She was almost swooning from the need to feel more of the vampire than the parts currently pressing against her back and she let her knees buckle, somehow knowing that he would catch her. When his strong arms picked her up and carried her into his room she gave up any pretense that she didn’t want him as much as he wanted her. She squirmed around until she could reach his mouth with hers, fastening her lips on the soft ones that had been teasing her neck and back.

When Spike’s tongue came out to lick her lower lip, she met it eagerly, swirling her own tongue around it and pulling it into her mouth to suck on it. Without breaking the kiss that was fueling the heat they were both feeling, he carried her to the bed and set her on her feet beside it just long enough to push the dress off her shoulders to pool at her feet on the floor. Which left Buffy standing there clad in nothing but the voluminous bloomers that passed for underwear in that era. She was covered from waist to knees in baggy underwear and he couldn’t control the snort of laughter that escaped his lips.

Buffy put her hands on her hips indignantly, then looked down at herself and smiled ruefully. “A real mood-killer, huh?”

He shook his head, the heat from his eyes making her skin burn everywhere they landed. “Not possible, luv. Not bloody possible,” he growled as he ripped off his shirt and pulled her against his bare chest. With her overheated skin pressing against his cool body she was surprised not to see steam pouring out between them. She melted into him as he captured her mouth in another searing kiss, his cool temperature the perfect compliment for the heat coming off her body. Her hands were running over the muscles in his back, enjoying the way they rippled under her hands as he moved his own arms around her body.

With a guttural growl, he twisted, falling back on the bed with Buffy on top of him, their mouths devouring each other and her soaked sex pressing against the bulge trying to burst from his pants. He groaned aloud at the heat he could feel through the layers of cloth. He wanted to feel that heat all around him and pushed his hips up against hers with a whimpering growl. Without removing his mouth, he shoved the unflattering underwear down her hips and groaned again when she shimmied it down her legs to where she could push it off with her toes.

Buffy’s whimpers as she ground her pelvis against his were making him babble incoherently as he reveled in the scents and sounds coming from her. When he could feel her building toward a release that was going to leave him still pressed against her through a layer of cloth, he summoned up the will power to push her away with one hand while the other frantically ripped open his pants and shoved them down his hips.

Buffy’s whimpers turned to angry moans as she was denied the release she had been seeking and she clawed at him, trying to re-establish the contact she needed.

“Easy, pet, easy, know you think I quit on you, but I didn’t. Just want to feel you around me the first time you come for me. Want to make it good for you, luv, want you to feel me inside you…”

Flipping them over, he poised his cock over her still moving hips, marveling at the way she looked with her head thrashing from side to side, mouth twisted in determination as she tried to pull him down. Giving in to her demands, he slid inside her, shuddering all over as her heat enveloped him. He tried to hold still for a minute, wanting to make it last, but Buffy was so intent on continuing the build up they’d begun while they were still half dressed that she began moving immediately, wrapping her legs around his waist to pull him in tighter.

Even as she tried to pull him in deeper, Buffy was gasping at the way he filled her up, touching places she hadn’t even known wanted touching until his cock reached her innermost parts. Slowing down her frantic pursuit of the orgasm she’d thought he was trying to cheat her out of, she relaxed and allowed him to establish a rhythm for them that soon had her climbing back up to the peak she was seeking.

Spike could feel her walls beginning to clench around him and knew he wouldn’t last. “That’s it, luv. Squeeze me, make me come with you, let me fill you up. Want to make you scream, baby. Scream for me, Buffy.” He pistoned his hips harder, making sure he was hitting the little internal bundle of nerves he was seeking with every thrust. He could feel the tension building in the strong, supple body beneath him and he was ready when she began to shudder around him, capturing her mouth and swallowing the scream of release just as he’d swallowed her screams when she’d been dreaming.

As her body arched up into his, shaking with the force of her orgasm, her vaginal muscles tightening down until the point of pain, he found his own release, filling her with his semen. His hips continued to jerk in reflexive motion long after he was spent, responding to her continued trembling. Gradually, they stilled, both gasping for air and shaken to their cores by the power of their combined release.

“That was….I never…nobody else…never…” Buffy gasped out unfinished phrases, trying to express her reaction to the experience.

“Me too, luv. Never. Only you, Buffy, only you.” Although he was more coherent, the basic awe-struck tone in his voice was the same as hers.

Spike pushed his pants the rest of the way off and sprawled on his back next to the equally spent Slayer. Although they were lying spread-eagled side-by-side, they weren’t touching anywhere but their two hands lying on the bed between them. He linked his fingers with hers, bringing it to his lips to kiss her hand reverently before dropping it back down between them.

As exhaustion took over, they both drifted off to sleep, lying naked on the top of the bed covers, hands firmly clasped together.



Chapter Eleven

Sometime during the course of their rather lengthy nap, the two had curled up together, Buffy tucked inside the embrace of the vampire that had killed two of her sisters. When Spike awoke enough to feel her shivering, he pulled the bedspread over them and pulled her closer, regretting for the first time in over a hundred years his lack of body heat.

A timid knock on the door, followed by a slightly louder knock when there was no response, finally penetrated Buffy’s restful sleep and she murmured without thinking, “Yes?”

Molly’s bright red face appeared briefly in the doorway as she hastily mumbled that supper would be ready soon. She looked everywhere but toward the bed, trying not to see her obviously naked mistress peering over the body of the man she’d known since she was a little girl. Spike couldn’t resist a smirk when Buffy’s face colored to match Molly’s as she woke up enough to realize what sort of picture they made.

With Molly’s quick departure, Buffy dropped back down onto her back, groaning with embarrassment. She could feel Spike’s body shaking with laughter and she leaned up on her elbow to glare at him.

“What are you laughing at? We’ve probably traumatized her for life!”

“She’ll be all right, love. I don’t think the serving classes are as uptight as my tight-assed social circle. She’s probably downstairs wishing she had a boyfriend to go home to right about now.”

“You’re not a boy friend,” Buffy said with the beginnings of a pout. “You’re my husband. That’s different. I don’t have a boyfriend. I—oh my god!” her eyes flew open wide as realization set in. “I DO have a boyfriend. Riley! I forgot about Riley. I just cheated on my boyfriend – with a vampire. With the vampire he thinks I-- Oh, this is sooo not going to help his inferiority complex.”

She dropped her head onto Spike’s chest in mock despair, thereby missing the amber flashes in his eyes at the mention of the man she’d been dating back in Sunnydale. He silently cursed himself for opening his mouth and reminding her of someone she hadn’t mentioned the whole time they’d been in London.

“You’re planning to tell him?” he asked carefully, lightly running a hand up and down her arm as he pretended to be only mildly curious. Buffy shivered slightly, but didn’t move away. With her face pressed up against his muscular chest, and his hand stroking her arm sensuously, she was finding it hard to worry about Riley and Sunnydale.

She shook her head slowly, unconsciously rubbing her cheek against his cool skin as she did so.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do. I don’t…I’m not that kind of girl. I don’t cheat on the men I…” She struggled to say the word love, but just couldn’t make it fit the way she was feeling. “…the men I’m dating,” she finished lamely.

Spike picked up on her choice of words and used his free hand to turn her chin so that he could look her in the eye.

“How about the man you’re married to? Would you cheat on him?”

Buffy lost herself in the seemingly bottomless blue pools staring at her. His question had been asked so quietly she wouldn’t have heard it if she hadn’t been facing him from a few inches away. She stammered, unable to look away from the emotions laid bare in those beautiful eyes.

“We…we’re…we’re only pretending to be married.”

“Right you are, pet,” he agreed, hiding his disappointment. “We’re just play acting. I almost forgot, we gave such a bloody good performance.”

He wriggled his eyebrows at her lasciviously and she giggled in agreement.

“Yeah, we were pretty…” She stopped, at a loss for words to describe the incredible passion and heat of their love-making.

“Amazing? Wonderful? Bloody brilliant? Stop me when I get to something that doesn’t fit, Slayer.”

“We were very good together,” she said primly, sitting up and clutching the bed spread in front of her. “And now we have to get dressed and go downstairs and behave like a proper married Victorian couple so we don’t frighten the servants.”

“Wouldn’t want to frighten the servants,” he said with a sigh, sitting up and grinning as her eyes went immediately to where the cover was tented over his pelvic area. She licked her lips as she ran her eyes up his taut abdomen to his smooth, pale chest and back down to where the bedspread barely covered the light brown curls at the base of his shaft.

“You…you can’t go downstairs like that! “ she squeaked, pointing at him as he stood up and let the bedcover fall.

“News flash, pet. That’s what I’m like most of the time around you. Don’t worry about it, I’ll tuck it away so nobody notices. Gotten bloody good at that over the last few months, I have.”

He held out his hand to help her up, rolling his eyes when she blushed and clutched the bedcover more tightly.

“What’s this now? All of a sudden you’re getting shy on me? Is this the same woman who almost strangled me with her—“

“Do NOT finish that sentence!” Eyes flashing, Buffy raised her chin and stood up quickly, trying not to cringe away from his eyes as they ran over her body from head to toe. Her anger faded immediately as she took in the awed look on his face and heard his barely whispered, “Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen…”

She blushed again, this time embarrassed not by her nudity, but by his unabashed admiration of it. When she ducked her head and refused to look at him, he moved closer, saying softly, “Com’ere, Buffy.”

Hesitantly, she stepped closer, stopping before the bobbing cock between them could brush her stomach. He tipped her chin up and kissed her with the tenderness that caught her by surprise every time he showed it.

“You’re bloody gorgeous, Buffy, and you should never be ashamed to let me see your body. There isn’t a single inch of it I don’t want to worship with my mouth and hands every day for the rest of my un-life.”

While Buffy gaped at him, he turned her around and gave her a gentle push toward her dress, saying casually, “Of course, if you let anybody else see it, I’ll have to bite ‘em.” He emphasized his point by planting a sharp slap on her ass as she bent over to pick up her bloomers, earning himself a look that made him laugh and put some distance between them at the same time.

When he had pulled on his trousers and tucked his shirt back in, he calmly walked over and began re-buttoning Buffy’s dress for her. When he had it completely fastened, he rested his hands on her shoulders briefly before sliding them down her arms to link their hands. He leaned over her, enjoying the sound of blood rushing through her veins as he took her ear lobe in his blunt teeth and worried it briefly.

“Now lets get downstairs before we scandalize the servants by missing supper completely.”

“Hey, I’m not the one nibbling on body parts instead of walking out the door,” she complained, even as she leaned back into him and shut her eyes. She tilted her head up and back, unconsciously baring her throat to his mouth and making him groan against her skin.

“Ah, Slayer, You don’t know what that does to me,” he almost gasped, running his tongue up the side of her throat, pressing it against the pulse he found pounding there. He fought his demon down as his fangs threatened to drop into the buttery skin under his lips and his mouth began to water.

He pushed her away almost roughly, ignoring the hurt look on her face while he grappled with his desire to make her his completely. Buffy looked at him with hurt confusion, then turned and headed for the door. “I’m sorry,” she snapped. “I thought you might like it. I didn’t realize it would make you think I was food!”

He was in front of her before she could turn the knob, holding her stiff angry arms while he tried to explain.

“The demon wasn’t thinking food, luv. He was thinking, Mate. Seems like he wants you just as much as I do – or more.”

“Mate?” she squeaked. “What do you mean, ‘mate’?”

He sighed and opened the door, gesturing for her to precede him through it. “So, your watcher never told you about vampire claiming rituals?”

“Uh, no. Guess the subject just never came up – what with me more interested in slaying them than …anything else.” She stopped and frowned in confusion for a second. “Although, come to think of it, he did say something about you and Drusilla when you first came to Sunnydale….” She turned and looked at him, her face unreadable. “Aren’t you already…mated?”

“No,” he said tightly in a voice that left no doubt that he wasn’t saying any more about it.

She studied his closed face for a few seconds, but he didn’t change expression or offer any more information. Spurred by an impulse she didn’t want to examine too closely, she reached up and placed a soft kiss on his tightly shut mouth. She was just pulling away when his arms went around her and she found herself being held so tightly she knew a normal human girl would have had broken ribs.

“Uh, Spike? Air? I need it to live.”

“Sorry, luv,” he said, nuzzling the side of her face and loosening his grip. “Didn’t’ mean to hurt you.”

“I know,” she agreed, squeezing him back gently before dropping her arms and continuing down the stairs. “I guess your chip must have known you weren’t trying to hurt me too, since it didn’t fire.”

If the vampire hadn’t already been so pale, he would have blanched at her casual remark. Suddenly the lack of pain from the chip the night before loomed larger in his thoughts than it had at the time. And the slap he’d just planted on her backside, while not intended to injure, had certainly hurt her.

Alright, once is an aberration, twice is a coincidence…three times and I’m in big trouble. Got to find a way to test this out without Buffy knowing why I’m worried.

Vowing to find a way to test out the chip’s status, he followed Buffy down the stairs and in to the dining room where they enjoyed another of Mrs. Barstow’s fine meals. Spike looked around the newly cleaned and polished room with satisfaction, almost glad that he’d had this opportunity to fix up the things that had been allowed to slide when money was so tight.

When dinner was over and they had supposedly retired for the night, Buffy slipped into the pants Spike had bought her and prepared to go out again. When she emerged from her room, tight pants hugging her feminine hips and a loose shirt hiding her other curves, she crossed to Spike’s room and knocked hesitantly on the door.

It opened immediately and she could see that he was ready to go out for evening’s slaying, dressed in dark brown casual trousers and his own black tee shirt. He looked at her approvingly, turning her around and cocking his head speculatively.

“What?” she demanded. I did the best I could. It’s not pretty, but…”

“Doesn’t need to be pretty, pet. In fact….” He walked away from her and rummaged in a drawer, emerging with a wool cap in his hand. “If we can fit all your hair under this hat, you might pass for a boy. A very pretty boy,” he added with a smile. “But that won’t be a problem unless we run into a bunch of poofters.”

Buffy quickly ran to the mirror and stuffed her hair under the knitted cap. She studied her reflection and nodded in satisfaction.

“It might work,” she said. “At least I won’t be scandalizing the neighbors every night. Although,” she raised her eyebrow in a good imitation of his own trademark smirk, “they might begin to wonder about your sexual orientation.”

“Let ‘m wonder, pet. We know the truth, don’t we,” he smirked, stepping up behind her and reaching around to cup her breasts.

Buffy watching with interest as her shirt moved around seemingly of its own accord as Spike’s hands moved over her nipples and massaged her breasts.

“That’s kind of cool-looking,” she mused to herself.

“If you think that’s interesting, wait until we get home tonight and see what else I can do in a mirror.” He slid his hands down into the pockets of the pants and stroked the insides of her thighs.

Buffy giggled, grabbing his wrists and moving them away from her rapidly heating up body. She pirouetted away from his pouting mouth and ran to the door.

“Come on, William. Let’s go find something to slay.”

Chapter Twelve

Buffy’s disguise worked well as long as they didn’t get too close to people in well-lit areas. And in this day of gas and oil lamps, they found that not difficult. When Buffy insisted on looking for something to slay, Spike took her on a tour of the nearest cemeteries, warning her they would be nothing like what she was used to in Sunnydale.

Buffy was completely awed by the age and size of London’s graveyards. Although Sunnydale had an unusually large number of cemeteries for such a small city, none were more than 150 years old, at most. Here, some of the graves she saw were so old it was impossible to read the dates on the tombstones. When Spike told her that they dated back to the 10th century, she became less of a Slayer and more of a tourist, walking through the empty, quiet grounds and shivering at the history she could almost feel in her bones.

With not having vampires and demons popping up every few feet the way they would have at home, Buffy felt free to look around and Spike became her tour guide as he showed her around the rest of 1890’s London. He walked her by the museums and historic buildings, assuring her that she could come back in the daytime to look inside.

“I wish I could take you myself, pet,” he said wistfully.

“So do I,” she admitted softly. “It would be fun.”

She had found that Spike was full of historical information as well as less well-known facts about much of the city, and she found herself enjoying what she would have been sure, had Giles suggested it, would be an incredibly boring time. The night flew by and in what seemed like a very short amount of time, he was steering her back toward their house, saying, “Time to get back, luv, or we’ll be having to sneak past Cook to get upstairs.”

“But we haven’t been everywhere, yet,” she pouted in mock disappointment.

“True enough,” he whispered in her ear, his cool breath causing her to shiver in anticipation. “But I have something else in mind for the rest of the night. There are other places I want to be…”

As they neared the dark, silent house, they saw a light in the front parlor. The light from the inside cast a glow onto the front porch – just enough of a glow that they could see a figure standing there knocking on the door.

The light from inside the house was nearing the door as Spike’s feet hit the porch steps and a fledgling vampire whirled to snarl at them, not recognizing quickly enough what sort of beings had come up behind him so quickly. Buffy raised her stake as she came up the stairs behind Spike, but before she could plunge it into the unsuspecting vamp’s heart, he grabbed her wrist.

“Hold up a minute, pet. I don’t think this is a coincidence.”

The unwary fledgling charged the two people in front of him, forgetting completely about the bewildered maid opening the front door. Spike quickly pinned the surprised vamp to the floor, holding him there while Buffy perched on his chest, her stake poised over his heart. When Molly started to open the door, Spike shouted at her to “shut that bloody thing, now!” frightening the poor girl into almost dropping her lamp in her haste to obey.

“What are you doing here?” Buffy demanded, pressing down until a drop of blood leaked through his shirt.

“Looking for an easy meal,” he snarled, still not fully aware of his danger. “They told me this house didn’t need an invite and there were a couple of juicy women there for the taking. Couldn’t get in, though, so I thought I’d see if I could get one ‘em to come out.”

“Who told you?” Spike’s voice was cold and deadly and for the first time the vampire got an inkling that he was not being accosted by humans. He could hear the girl’s heartbeat and knew she was human, but was confused by her lack of fear. Not to mention the stake she held at his heart. As the fact that he could only hear one heartbeat began to sink in, he asked, “Are you him?”

“Am I who, wanker?”

“They told me a vamp owned the house, but they said he wasn’t much older than me and wouldn’t be a problem if he was home.” The fear on his face indicated how quickly he was realizing he’d been lied to.

“WHO told you?” Spike and Buffy snarled together, although they were both sure they knew the answer.

“Big Irish guy – had a blond with him. They were old, both of them. Told me after I ate to come back and tell them what I found. I wasn’t going to argue with them – just did what I was told.”

“Angelus,” Buffy breathed, her stomach clenching in fear. The vamp she was sitting on misunderstood her fear and smiled in satisfaction as he thought she’d finally realized the danger she was in. The smile was still on his face when he turned to dust under Buffy’s stake. She hadn’t even bothered to look at him as she thrust it home, her eyes were on Spike who was in game face, looking around and sniffing the air.

“Let’s get inside, pet,” he growled. “I don’t feel them anywhere, but I think he’d want to watch and see if his minion made it inside.”

She stood up, nodding her head, ashamed of her willingness to get to safety when there were vampires about. Just before they opened the door, she ran her hand along his forehead ridges, smiling slightly as she said, “You might want to lose your wrinkles before we go in or Molly’s going to have a whole new understanding of the word ‘master’.”

As soon as her hand touched his face, he was slipping back into his beautiful human features and by the time she was finished speaking William Sinclair was looking back at her.

Spike opened the door, holding it for Buffy and snatching the cap off her head as she went in ahead of him. Just before he stepped in behind her, he felt the presence of his vampire family and whirled to stare into the night, cursing Molly’s presence, which kept him in his less perceptive human state. He could feel Buffy stiffen beside him and knew she had sensed them too.

He forced himself to turn around casually and pull the door shut behind him, giving Buffy a little nudge to move her forward. The fact that the minion had not been able to get in, told him the barrier was probably working and he mentally thanked Stuart Saint-John for his efficiency.

Molly was staring at her two employers with an open mouth – looking back and forth from Spike’s tight tee shirt to Buffy’s tight pants.

“Uh, uh, Sir? Who was that man pounding on the door and where did he go?”

“I believe he was someone who meant to do us harm, Molly. He was knocking in hopes you would let him in.” Spike looked at her intently. “It is extremely important that no one invite any strangers into the house after dark. Or during daylight, for that matter,” he added quickly at Buffy’s frown. “Is that clear, Molly? It is most important that you take me seriously.”

“Ye-yes sir. I understand, Sir.”

“Good girl. Well, then, we’ll let you get back to sleep. I’m sorry that you had to be awakened so rudely.”

Molly knew a dismissal when she heard one, and she bit back the questions she wanted to ask about their clothing and what they’d been doing out in the wee hours of the morning. She retreated to her room and, after checking that the tiny window was fastened, she blew out the lamp and went back to sleep.

As soon as Molly was out of sight and hearing, Buffy turned to Spike and said anxiously, “You felt them too, didn’t you?”

“Yes, love, I did. But if the minion couldn’t break in through a window or a door, then the barrier is up and they can’t get in here. We’ll just have to be sure the entire staff is careful about who they invite into the house. Have to come up with some sort of story…I’ll work on that tomorrow.”

Buffy nodded and turned to walk toward the stairs. She stopped when she realized Spike was not behind her, and turned to look at him anxiously.

“Spike?”

“Call me William, pet,” he answered absently, turning to lock the front door.

“Are you coming upstairs, William?” she asked in a much less sure tone that she wanted.

He looked at her in surprise, noting her hesitance to go up by herself.

“Are you all right, Buffy?”

“I’m fine. I just wondered when--if you were coming to bed.”

He rolled his eyes at her and winked lasciviously. “Oh yes, love. You can count on it. Just as soon as I check that the downstairs is all locked up and secure. Wouldn’t put it past that wanker to send humans to do his dirty work for him if he felt he needed to.”

“That’s stupid. He can’t know about your chip. He would have no reason to think humans would have a prayer against you. Not to mention me.”

“The great poof doesn’t always think things through. I’m just saying, he might try that, just to get someone inside the house. And I’m pretty sure he hasn’t noticed that you’re a slayer yet. Dru picked up on it right away, but Angelus is a little dense sometimes.”

“He doesn’t recognize slayers when he sees them?”

“He stays away from any country where there is known to be a slayer. Doesn’t seek ‘em out like some vamps do.”

“cough, Spike, cough”

“I’m gonna be seeking a slayer in just a few minutes when I get done down here – and she’d better be naked when I find her,” he threatened with a leer, grateful for the change of subject.

“Or what?” Buffy challenged, starting up the stairs with an exaggerated sway of her tightly clothed hips.

“Or we’ll have to be asked old Saint-John to be sending us another pair of trousers,” he growled, showing her his claws for just a second.

“Promises, promises,” she giggled, running up the stairs and into her room.

“That it was, pet,” he chuckled softly. “That it was.”

When Spike had made a complete circuit of the downstairs and ensured that all windows were closed and locked, he headed for the back stairs. With his foot on the first riser, he froze, feeling once again, the presence of his grandsire. No sooner had he felt Angelus presence, than he heard Buffy’s heart rate go up and she gasped loud enough to be heard in the kitchen.

He took the stairs in two leaps, hit the floor at the top and raced to her room to find her clutching her shirt to her chest and staring at the window fearfully. Spike followed her frozen gaze to see his grandsire’s grinning face peering in the open window. As Spike walked toward him, Angelus licked his lips and growled softly at Buffy. Instead of rushing the window and pushing him off the small ledge he was standing on, the Slayer remained frozen in place, her fear plain to see. The older vampire laughed and leaped to the ground a scant second before Spike slammed the window down and pulled the curtains.


Buffy’s color went from white to bright red as she recovered herself and began cursing Angelus and his sire in amazingly colorful terms. Spike beamed at her proudly as she threw in a few “Bloody’s” and “soddin’s” along with the all-American “mother-fucking sonofabitch!”

When she stopped for air, he applauded softly and walked toward her laughing.

“Well that would have blown your well-brought-up lady disguise right out of the water,” he laughed. “What brought all that on? Didn’t like Peaches playing peeping Tom at you?”

Buffy shuddered briefly, bringing another smile to the vampire’s face, then said with a grimace, “I’m mad at myself for letting him get to me again. It’s just like in my dreams. I see him and I freeze. Dammit!”

“Come on, love,” he said, stroking her hair soothingly, “You couldn’t have done anything without risking being pulled out the window. So, standing still and covering up those perky little breasts was probably your best move. He’s trying to rattle you and now he thinks it’s working. Bloody wanker’s still too stupid to recognize a slayer when he sees one.”

“Probably because I’m not acting like one,” she grumbled. “Why would he be afraid of me when all I’ve done so far is run from him and squeal like a little girl?” She began to put her shirt down and undo her pants when movement at one of the uncovered windows caught her eye and she froze again. She automatically started to cover her breasts, her heart pounding in fear, when she heard Spike growling and saw him move toward the window. She shook herself and said in trembling voice, “No, wait. Let me. What’s the British version of the finger?”

She stood up proudly, allowing the watching vampire outside a good look at her slim, muscular, but very feminine, body before she walked over to the window, held up her two fingers in an obscene salute and casually pulled the curtains closed.

She turned triumphantly and smiled at Spike. “There! That was more like it!”

“Yes, it was, Slayer,” he agreed with a grin. “I’ll bet he won’t be bragging about that response anytime soon.”



“Xander,” Giles spoke softly, but firmly, “Would you be so good as to hand me one of those tasers, please?” He held his hand out behind him for the device, never taking his eyes off the confused vampire crouching on the floor of the room.

“Uh, okay, but wouldn’t a stake be more useful? Just saying...”

“Until we know where Buffy and Spike have gone, and why this—“ he stopped speaking when the vampire jumped to his feet at hearing Spike’s name and snarled again. “Oh, dear Lord,” he breathed as he studied the figure in front of him.

The vampire glared back at him, gradually relaxing his tense posture and assuming a very familiar spread-legged posture. As his face faded back into his human features, the young man peering over Giles’ shoulder choked back a gasp when he saw the curly haired vampire’s face.

“It’s...it’s Spike!” he squeaked.

“Heard of me, have you?” the young vampire asked, swaggering a little.

“You might say that,” Giles responded, relaxing a little when the vampire made no attempt to attack. As soon as the youthful Spike saw the watcher drop his arms, he charged the door, only to find himself unable to get enough traction to climb up.

The two humans had jumped back at the attempted attack and were studying the vampire from outside the room.

“What are we going to do with him?” Xander asked. “He’s obviously gone nuts and reverted to his old evil self. Not to mention, he’s done something with Buffy.”


“I don’t think so,” Giles muttered, looking around for some restraints.

When he glanced back at the vampire, he could see him crouching to leap and shouted for Xander to take the other side of the door. As Spike’s leap carried him close enough to grab the sides of the door, Giles hit the hand closest to him with the taser while Xander did the same on the other side. Rather than allowing the vampire to fall back into the room, the older man grabbed the immobilized arm and yanked him out on to the floor where he could put the taser on a more central part of his body.

He winced in sympathy as the vampire trembled and convulsed under the taser’s touch. When Giles felt sure he had rendered this younger version of Spike out for the count, he lifted his arm and stepped back, motioning for Xander to bring the restraints he’d found in another part of the facility. They quickly chained Spike up, fastening the chains to a metal pole in the middle of the room.

The vampire came to slowly, opening only his eyes until he noticed the chains, then leaping up with a roar and pulling on them with all his strength. He raged and yanked on the unyielding restraints until he was exhausted, then slumped back against the pole to glare at his captors.

“Where am I?” he growled. “And who the bloody hell are you?”

“Well, actually, Spike, that’s an interesting story...”

Chapter Thirteen

Buffy quickly changed into her nightgown and followed Spike across the hall into his room. The drapes in that room were already closed tightly as Buffy had told Molly and Mrs. Barstow that they were to be kept closed at all times unless she or Spike opened them themselves.

“You all right, pet?” he inquired as casually as he could. He didn’t look at her while he asked, just went about taking off his shirt and pants. When he was naked, he picked up his nightshirt and threw it across the bottom of the bed.

“Uh, Spike? Aren’t you supposed to actually WEAR that?” She hoped her snarky question would make him forget about his.


For a minute she thought it had worked, as he leered at her and moved closer. “ ‘S long as it’s where I can grab it if I need it, that’s good enough. Haven’t slept any way but naked for well over 100 years and I don’t plan to start now when I have a beautiful woman in my bed.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “You think I’m beautiful?”

“You know I do, love.” He ran his hand through her rumpled hair, combing it with his long slender fingers. “Think you’re beautiful, and brave, and strong, and sexy...” His hand left her hair to trace a path along her collarbone and dip into the front of her gown. “And wearing an excessive amount of clothing,” he continued with William’s accent as he lightly stroked the tops of her breasts. Buffy didn’t respond as he expected; instead looking around the room and asking apprehensively, “Do...do you think Angelus is still outside? Listening to us?”

“Bloody hell, I hope so!” Spike laughed. “Maybe I can teach the old wanker a thing or two.”

He reached for Buffy, only to find her backing away stammering, “What! You think I’m going to...while Angel is...that we...oh, no, mister. There will be no teaching of...of anything.”

“Come on, love,” he said, still laughing. “You can’t seriously care if that wanker hears us...”

When her expression didn’t change, Spike realized she was serious and threw himself on the bed, growling in frustration. He tried to ignore her slip, calling Anglelus “Angel”, but it bothered him more than he cared to admit.

“Fine, Slayer,” he huffed, turning down the covers and grabbing his night shirt. “You stay on that side and I’ll stay over her. Heaven forbid we should upset the great poof by letting him overhear you shaggin’ somebody else.”

He started to put the shirt on, then growled and tossed it on the floor. Turning his back to the confused slayer, he squirmed around until he was comfortable and shut his eyes firmly.

Buffy stared at his rigid back, knowing that she’d somehow angered him all out of proportion to the situation, but bewildered and confused about what she might have done. Responding in what seemed to her the most appropriate way, she snapped at his unresponsive back, “Well, I guess that tells me what you’re really interested in, doesn’t it? Just forget it. I’ll sleep in my own bed.”

She whirled and stomped out of the room, slamming the door behind her angrily. As she entered her own room, she heard a noise from outside the window. With anger fueling her determination, she continued her angry march in that direction, pausing only to grab a stake from the pants on the floor. She yanked the curtains open to find Angelus’ surprised face looking back at her.

He licked his lips, allowing his fangs to show as he leered at her, expecting the frightened girl he’d seen before. When, instead of screaming or crying she glared at him and raised the stake threateningly, snarling, “Get the hell off my roof!” he flinched back, losing his balance and falling to the ground. Buffy laughed delightedly and saluted him appropriately – sure that he would get her message even if he did have to wait until he came to America to understand it fully. She allowed the curtain to fall back into place and walked toward the bed, satisfied that she’d ruined at least one vampire’s night.

She crawled into her own bed and pulled the covers up, keeping her stake beside her just in case, and resolutely shutting her eyes.

I don’t need to be with him to sleep. I’ll be just fine by myself. Stupid vampire.

After a good bit of tossing, turning, muttering and struggling to resist the urge to slink back across the hall to the security of Spike’s bed, Buffy finally fell into a restless sleep. Once again, her sleep was troubled by the vivid, very real-seeming pictures of a Slayer dream. And once again, in her dream she was at the mercy of Angleus and Darla, now wearing modern dress and hair styles. She could see Drusilla dancing in the back ground, humming to herself and seemingly oblivious of the activities.

She looked around for Spike, since his presence had been part of all her other dreams, but couldn’t see him anywhere. Her fear, already close to paralyzing her, escalated when her frantic search of the area didn’t show any trace of the blond vampire.

Angelus moved closer to her immobile body, stalking around her and sniffing.

“What’s the matter, lover? I don’t smell your guardian vampire on you anymore – did you finally give him the boot?” He moved in closer and ran his tongue up one side of her neck, lingering over the artery through which her blood was rushing in such delicious panic.

“I guess he realized you wanted a real vampire; not that pitiful excuse for a demon Dru created.”

Buffy’s eyes flew to the insane vampire who had drifted closer to them while Angelus talked to her. The willowy brunette shook her head sadly, saying softly, “I tried to tell you, Slayer, if you wanted to be William’s sunshine you had to tell him so. My sweet William doesn’t think he’s worthy – he’s gone away to cry for you. Poor sad William...poor foolish Slayer.”

She danced away again, avoided the large fist that Angelus had thrown toward her face and laughing at his anger. “Daddy doesn’t like to hear that you might have chosen William if you could. He will punish you for wanting our sweet boy...You should have—“

Her voice was cut off by Angelus’ large hand grasping her throat. “I’ve heard just about enough from you about that traitorous childe of yours. You’ll stop it now or the Slayer won’t be the only one being punished.”

“Spike?” Buffy’s tried to shout for the missing vampire, but her voice box was as frozen as the rest of her and nothing came out but a slight squeak. Which was enough to attract Angelus’ attention back to her and he dropped Dru to the floor.

“You would still call for him?” he snarled. “He can’t protect you now – you’re going to be mine, in every possible way, now and forever.”

While she silently screamed and tried to fight the fear that was holding her immobile, the big vampire systematically stripped off her clothes and unzipped his pants. Once again, she found herself faced with the prospect of being raped by her former lover, but unlike the Angelus of long ago,it was obvious this one knew who she was and remembered their time together.

The fangs visible behind his lips and the hungry look in his yellow eyes made it impossible not to understand his true intentions and she struggled with her last ounce of courage to throw off the paralyzing fear holding her prisoner.

When the vampire lunged for her throat at the same time as he knocked her to the ground and prepared to enter her, she could feel the tears sliding down her cheeks at the knowledge that her worst nightmare was going to come true. Mentally bracing herself for the pain, she was shocked when the vampire reared back from her neck snarling in rage.

“He DARED!” he roared. “That arrogant bastard...I’ll kill him!”

Completely bewildered, Buffy lay where he’d dropped her, grateful for the reprieve, but at a loss as to what had caused him to back off. Suddenly, through the signatures of the other vampires in the room, she felt Spike’s presence and closed her eyes in relief.

He came for me. He always comes for me. He won’t let Angelus have his one good day.

She sat up, having gained some small amount of control over her muscles now that she knew Spike was there. Darla was snarling toward the dark entrance and she quickly moved to stand beside Angelus and glare at the vampire lounging with deceiving casualness in the doorway.

“Hi, luv. Did you miss me or were you having too much fun with Peaches to notice I wasn’t here?”

His eyes belied his casual words as they ran over her body quickly to assess any injuries and he visibly relaxed when he saw that she was relatively unharmed.

He gestured at her to come to him, and she scuttled across the floor quickly, grabbing her clothes as she did so. Just as she went to join Spike in the doorway, a large, meaty hand flashed out and grabbed her arm.

“Where do ye think you’re going?” Angelus snarled. “I’m not done with you yet. Soon as I kill my annoying grandchilde, that protection you’re wearing will be gone and I’ll finish what I started.”

He tossed her toward Darla who punched Buffy in the temple, knocking her to the floor stunned and helpless. She then went to join Angelus in attacking the youngest member of their family.

As Buffy watched in dazed horror, the two older vampires began to push Spike from the room, using their fangs and claws to rip and tear at his body until he was bleeding from a hundred places and his flesh was hanging in strips. He cast a look at the sobbing, but still immobile, Slayer on the floor and cried out, “Buffy! You have to help me, Slayer. Buffy, come to me, love – I need you. Buffy!”

Buffy woke up suddenly, gasping through her tears and staring with wide eyes at Spike’s worried face. When she realized she’d been dreaming again and that she’d heard him calling her because he was trying to wake her up, she threw her arms around his neck in a repeat of her actions after the first Slayer dream.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” she chanted over and over as she ran her hands over his naked body, assuring herself that he was in one piece and not bleeding to death in front of her. She clutched him so hard he was very grateful that breathing was an option for him rather than a necessity.

“Shhh, love, Shhhh. I’m right here. All undead and in one piece. It was just another dream. ‘S my fault for getting mad at you and leaving you by yourself. I’m sorry, Buffy, so sorry. I’ll never leave you alone again, I promise.”

Gradually calming down under the soothing influence of Spike’s rich baritone, she eventually stopped crying and rested her head on his chest, secure again within the cool circle of his arms.

As she fought her way back to reality, Spike’s words began to sink in and she pushed herself away from him far enough to look into his eyes.

“You didn’t leave me, Spike. I left the room under my own power, and I was too proud and stubborn to come back when I wanted to.”

“That makes two of us, then, pet,” he said ruefully, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. “Wanted you back in my bed so bad – but I was too stubborn to come and apologize for being such a stupid git. Can you forgive me, love?”

“Guess we could both use some anger management help, huh?” she smiled tentatively at him, relieved when he dropped a kiss on her forehead and answered, “If we weren’t fightin’ about something, we wouldn’t be us, now would we?”

Buffy laughed softly, then perked up. “Hey! On the plus side, I was so mad at you, I scared the hell out of Angelus.”

“You what?” He immediately looked at the windows, growling softly.

“Relax,” she said, tugging his attention back to her, “He was so surprised to see me waving a stake at him, he fell off the roof. I can be pretty scary when I’m mad, you know,” she finished with a sideways look at him.

Spike laughed out loud, taking several seconds to get himself under control enough to sputter, “That you can, love. I wish I’d seen ole Angelus’ face when he saw a brassed off slayer looking at him instead of a scared little girl.”

“Maybe he’ll leave us alone for a while, now,” Buffy muttered. “If he’s as big a coward as you say he is...”

“Oh, the poof’s not really a coward, pet. He just doesn’t like to take chances or make waves. I can’t see him going out of his way to keep bothering you now that he knows what you are. With a little luck, he’ll send some more minions after you and once he sees what happens to them, he’ll be on the next boat to France. I’d lay odds on it.”

“I wish I could get him out of my head that easily,” she sighed, curling back up inside Spike’s comforting embrace.

“I really am sorry, love. You have no idea.” His voice was rough with pain and regret. “I am a bloody selfish wanker and you should drive a stake through my...well, maybe not my heart, but maybe a hand, or a foot, or...”

“Shut up,” she said, pulling his mouth down for a lingering kiss.

“Whatever you say, Slayer,” he agreed, slanting his head to deepen the kiss. His tongue swirled around hers, sucking it gently back into his mouth where he could nibble on it with his blunt human teeth.

“Mmmmmmmmm” Buffy’s moan of pleasure caught him by surprise and he broke the kiss to look at her in wonder.

“You liked that, pet? You liked my teeth on you?”

“Oh yeah,” she breathed, leaning into his neck and taking the skin gently between her teeth. “Do you?”

When her elbow bumped against his rock hard erection poking up between them, she giggled. “I guess that’s a yes?”

With a guttural growl, the vampire stood up, still holding her in his arms, and whirled toward his own bedroom. He crossed the hall in a one stride and had her on the bed and underneath him before she could blink. With his cool length pressed against her body from their toes to the hands he was holding over her head, she went from mildly interested to desperate for more touching in a heartbeat.

When she squirmed under him, trying to get her hands free, he let go with one of his hands, using the other to push her nightgown up over her face. When he dropped his head to take one hard, rosy nipple in his mouth, she pulled free and yanked the nightgown the rest of the way off. While she was doing that, Spike was sliding down her body, leaving a wet trail of kisses as he worked his way down to his objective.

When he reached the source of the rich scent of her arousal and began to lick from her opening to the little pink nubbin standing up and begging for attention, he was surprised when she touched his head and said shyly, “You don’t have to do that, Spike. It’s okay.”

“Not doing it because I have to, pet.” He frowned up at her before dropping his head back down and nuzzling her curls. “Doin’ it because I want to.” He pressed his tongue against her clit, smiling when she moaned and her hips arched off the bed. “Why would you think otherwise, luv? Don’t tell me nobody ever...”

He looked up at her bright red face and after planting a light kiss on the inside of her thigh, he crawled back up to where he could see her eyes better. The blush was rapidly spreading down her neck and onto her breasts as he continued to stare at her in amazement.

“Your juices are like ambrosia to me, Buffy. The scent, the taste of you, the way you feel, they’re all part of the package – part of the wonderful,” he kissed the tip of one nipple, “amazing,” he took the hard little pebble in his teeth and gently pulled on it, “sexy,” he sucked the nipple into his mouth and listened to her whimpers with satisfaction, “woman that is Buffy Summers.”

He released her nippple with an audible pop. “So whatever wanker told you he was doing you a favor by pleasuring you the way you deserve, was either incredibly stupid or lying in his teeth.”

“You...you mean you don’t mind...” At Spike’s growl, she amended quickly, “You actually want to?”

“You have no idea, luv. No idea at all; but ‘m going to show you how much,” he said as he kissed his way back down her body.

It took him only a minute of careful attention to her clit to have her whimpering and pleading with him – for what she wasn’t sure, but the words, “Spike, please, Spike!” continued to fall out of her mouth.

“Tell me what you want, love,” he murmured, pulling the swollen nubbin into his mouth and sucking on it gently. Instead of speaking, she grabbed his hair and pushed his face against her, gasping whimpers indicating how close she was to the release she wanted. When he bit down lightly, she screamed and shuddered around him, clenching his head so tightly with her thighs he was afraid she was going to decapitate him.

Just as he was sure he was going to have to pull her legs apart, she relaxed and he was able to lift his face to smile at her. She looked down at his smirking expression and at her hands buried in his curls and blushed again in shame.

“Oh, I can’t believe I did that to you. I am so sorry, I don’t know what—“

“You did what felt right, pet. No shame in that. When I’ve learned to read you better, you won’t have to take control like that – unless I’m teasing you on purpose, of course and you get tired of it....”

“But...but I...you...”

He crawled back up until he was face to face with her, the head of his cock just brushing her wet entrance.

“You let me get you off. ’S all you did, love. Bloody made my day, it did, seeing you respond to me like that. You have no idea how good it makes it feels to pleasure you. Could do it all day long. Would, if you’d let me.”

Buffy looked into his earnest eyes in amazement. Never had a man suggested that making her feel good could give him pleasure. Riley treated giving her an orgasm as a job to be accomplished before he was allowed his reward, and she could tell he sometimes got impatient with what he was expected to do to make it happen. And here was Spike, an evil vampire, telling her he actually enjoyed doing things to her.

“You...you would?” Her disbelief was tinged with just a trace of wistfulness, and his expression softened even more as he began kissing her gently.

“Could, would, will if you let me. Every day for the rest of your life. Love to see you like that. Love to feel you comin’ for me, on me, around me.”

While he was speaking in between kisses, he was sliding slowly into her warm depths, fighting for control as her heat enveloped him and she unconsciously squeezed him until he groaned.

When he was sure he had himself under control again, he began a slow, steady rhythm of thrusts, ending each one with a slight twist that hit nerves Buffy hadn’t even known were there. Her fingernails dug bloody furrows in his smooth, pale back as she gave herself up to the sensations the vampire was creating. His thrusts came faster and harder as she moved her hips to meet his, her Slayer strength an easy match for his own supernatural power.

“Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god,” she chanted over and over as the pressure built and she felt herself on the verge of shattering into a thousand pieces. Spike’s deep growls, interspersed with flowery endearments that came perilously close to William’s poetry, indicated he was rapidly approaching his own release.

When she felt the world explode around her, colors exploding behind her eyes, her whole body quaking in ecstasy, she clutched him as though he was the only thing holding her on the earth and gripped his shoulder with her blunt teeth in an effort to smother the scream leaving her throat.

The vampire’s own release began the instant he felt her convulse around him and his hips jerked frantically as he emptied himself into her body. When Buffy’s teeth sank into his flesh, the demon could not be denied and his fangs slid into the creamy skin on her throat, just barely piercing the skin. He let her powerful blood flow over his tongue as his hips continued to spasm long after he had nothing left to send.