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Blood of My Blood by Blood Faerie
 
Chapter One
 
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Blood of My Blood
Chapter 1


AN: I was so pleasantly surprised with the reaction I got to the prologue. Let’s hope I keep it up, yeah? LoL And to my usual readers, you know it won’t be completely serious. Just think of all the fun you can have with a feral vampire! *goes off to a dark place, imagining having herself a feral vampire on a leash*

As always, I am deeply indebted to my betas, Meg and Ruth, as well as Zoe Grace for being the kind of friend that takes a look at my storyline.



******


The feral vampire looked almost hurt at her reaction. That couldn’t be right. She stopped screaming and blinked at him in confusion. The vulnerable expression was at odds with the ridges, amber eyes, and mouth smeared with her blood. Evil vampires weren’t vulnerable.

Apparently taking her lack of screaming as sign he could continue, Spike lowered his head to start running his tongue along her wounds again. A shiver went up her spine and she briefly closed her eyes, feeling oddly soothed and cared for.

They snapped back open. This wasn’t normal. She shouldn’t be lying there enjoying it as if it were a spa treatment. These injuries were because his ho-bag of a girlfriend had attacked her. He was a soulless creature of the night and for all she knew he was preparing her for dinner now that the apocalypse had been averted. He had made it very clear they were only working together to stop Angelus and nothing was changing between them.

When he moved to another wound on her side where Angelus had nicked her, she noticed just where they were. Still in the mansion, by the looks of it, and in a bedroom. In fact, they were on a large bed hung with crimson velvet drapes, and she was bleeding onto a feather bed covered in matching silk.

Wait. How was he licking her wounds through her clothing?

She woke up further and realized her state of undress. And his state of undress. He had apparently shucked his clothes while working on her wounds, his demon seeing no need for such things and seeking physical closeness to fight the loneliness. Startled, she tried to lift her arm to push him away, but it was the broken one and she gave a pained cry before lowering it again.

Spike stopped what he was doing to growl warningly at her actions. He bent and studied her arm, even sniffing at it briefly. Satisfied that she hadn’t hurt it further, he turned his head to give her a pointed look.

“Sorry,” she muttered then shook her head. “Wait, why am I apologizing? I have nothing to be sorry for. I woke up naked with a vampire—also naked—licking my blood; I think my reaction was natural.”

His only response was to grunt dismissively as he went back to work.

“Stop that! That’s gross!”

Using her good arm, Buffy raised herself up to look down at him. His arm just tightened around her, not bothering to pay her protests any attention. She refused to see what was really going on there—why he was licking her wounds and why he had growled when she hurt her arm trying to push him away. And, why he had actually looked hurt when she screamed upon waking. Buffy tried to inch away but he growled at her again, giving her a gentle nip in the side.

The bite sent her back into fight-or-flight mode and she struggled even harder to get free, batting at him with her good arm as she twisted and turned. He yanked her down hard and pinned her there. His nose twitched at the smell of fresh blood and he looked down—so did she—to see that the wound in her stomach had been re-opened and torn during the scuffle.

Spike growled again, louder, right in her face, making sure she finally got the message. She was not to move or he would do something to keep her from moving was the message that came through, at least. She was even afraid to breathe, doing so slowly in measured breaths, although part of that was because of the pain that became evident once she settled down again.

“Okay, okay. I got the message...I’m not going anywhere,” she said softly—fearfully. “At least, not while I’m too injured to move much.”

His eyes lingered on her face for a moment before looking back down at her wound. He slid down her body again so that his mouth hovered over her stomach. She couldn’t help but watch, entranced by the scene. Her eyes were riveted to his mouth as his tongue darted out again to stroke the wound, cleaning up the blood and trying to lave it in healing saliva. Buffy tried to keep her attention on the process, but the blood loss and stress was getting to her again. Her vision blurred then went black as she passed out with a little sigh.

******

Slayer blood healed almost as well as vampire saliva did and the little amount Spike ingested while cleaning Buffy up helped his demon think slightly more clearly. Not much and not enough for him to realize why he was thinking more clearly, but maybe enough for him to implement his plan a bit better.

The slayer was going to be a difficult conquest, judging by the way she had reacted. Or maybe not... Spike sniffed near her thighs, purring at the delicious aroma that wafted from them ever so faintly. She had been somewhat affected by him, it seemed. That was a very good sign, and the demon wanted to use it to his advantage, but it just barely remembered that she needed to heal first. No mating until she was healthy enough for it.

He finally finished with her wounds, the job so much easier when she was unconscious. Spike moved her tenderly under the featherbed so that they could rest until dark. Then he could go out and get what they needed, provide for his intended mate the way he should. He curled up with a protective arm around her and fell into a light sleep, ready to wake up at any sign of danger.

When Spike sensed the sun was finally below the horizon, he finally roused and moved the cover back to glance his intended mate over. He lowered his head to nuzzle her neck with a soft purr before slipping out of bed. The trip would have to be fast since he wasn’t sure if she would stay put if she woke up to him gone. Not after all the struggling she had done that morning.

******

Somehow, Buffy found herself on the catwalk in the Bronze. There was a crowd dancing below to music that sounded distant and indistinct, but she was alone up here. At least, she thought she was until the slayer sense started tingling. It was a familiar signature and so she wasn’t surprised when Spike walked out of the shadows.

“We’re more alike than you realize,” he said softly. “We’re both alone again.”

Her eyes sought his and found the same vulnerable expression the feral vampire had worn. She studied him, thinking over his words.

“I have friends. They’ll wonder what happened to me and worry,” she told him.

“Then why haven’t they come already?” He cocked his head to the side then sidled closer to her. “They don’t live in the darkness with you. They try to, but they weren’t made for it like we were. The shadows we revel in scare those children you surround yourself with.”

She lifted her chin rebelliously. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I?” He came up behind her and lowered his mouth to her ear, his usual unneeded breath tickling her. “Live in denial if you want, but we both know the truth. We are alike more than you realize and I
will make us one.”

“Make us
what?!”

She tried to turn to him, but he kept her pinned to the railing with his body. His hand skimmed over her thigh and delved under her skirt to touch her intimately as if it wasn’t odd for her to be without panties. Instantly, she stopped, closing her eyes and trying not to moan aloud.

“You will be mine,” he whispered seductively in her ear with some forcefulness. “You
are mine. Fight it all you want, but I won’t give up, pet.”

His hand continued to stroke her until he slowly started to insert a finger.

“Spike,” she gasped.


******

“Spike!”

Her gasp was louder as she woke up, eyes snapping open to the realization that she was in a dark room alone. She sat up slowly; her healing body was so very sore. The scene with the feral Spike that morning almost seemed imagined in the empty room.

Except for her being naked and injured, of course. That kept her from being able to believe it was just some figment of her imagination.

Gingerly sliding from the bed, Buffy looked for her clothes and found only bloody rags remaining. These did her no good. There was another pile, though. She picked up Spike’s red shirt and put it on.

The buttons were only half done when the tingles started up only moments before the door burst open. Spike—still feral and naked—came bounding in nearly on all fours. He backed her up until she sat back on the bed then dropped something into her lap.

Her eyes flew wide and she froze. A dead rabbit lay mangled where he dropped it, smearing blood on her thighs.

Clearly not sure why she wasn’t eating up, Spike grunted and nudged the small offering closer to her.

“I’m going to be sick,” she said, pushing the carcass off her lap and turning away from him to heave.

Buffy missed the brief flash of hurt as he looked down at the discarded form. Immediately, though, he turned his attention back to her and moved to her side. His hand gently rested on her arm as he looked her over, trying to see if she was okay. He even sniffed to make sure she hadn’t opened any wounds while she was up.

“I suppose that was like a cat bringing its owner a mouse,” she speculated once the heaving stopped and she noticed his expression, though she tried not to think too deeply about his continued concern for her.

There would be no dwelling on the caring and vulnerability, especially after her strange dream. She finally looked at him to see his eyes darting between her and the rabbit.

“I’m not a vampire or demon,” she said, fighting her reaction to the intense amber gaze. “I’m human and I eat human food like pizza, burgers, and tacos.”

The vampire actually dropped his eyes and looked away. He seemed dejected at not feeding her properly.

It caused her to quickly add, “My slayer constitution is hardy enough to go awhile without food. Don’t worry.”

Spike didn’t seem to be paying attention to her at this point, though. His head was lowered for a few moments and then he looked back up at her again. There was a sharp grunt and he gave her a gentle push back further onto the bed before turning to lope towards the door. She watched him leave, feeling a bit confused and bereft.

No, not bereft. He was gone and this was the perfect opportunity to get out of there without the primal Spike there to stop her. All she needed was something to wear home. She was already wearing his shirt so she might as well pull on his jeans as well. Then, when she got home she could prove to dream Spike that she was not alone.

Why was she stressing anyway? It was just a dream after all.

So holding the oversized jeans up so she could walk, Buffy left the mansion, but it was slow going due to her injuries. Her body protested with every step, but she was determined to get home and away from the weirdness of a feral vampire playing nursemaid.

******

Even before Spike saw it with his own eyes, he sensed something was wrong. He had thought he had caught her scent outside, but shook it off since of course she had been outside the night before. No matter if it might have been more recent. But in the room, he dropped the bags he carried onto the empty bed.

The demon threw back his head and let loose a roar that came from deep inside, full of anguish. His injured mate was running around out there. He needed to find her and bring her back. The greasy bag of food lay forgotten as he ran out of the room snarling.


Tbc...
 
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