Disclaimer: The characters are the property of Joss Whedon. He is a God even if he made some mistakes. Us loving fans are only striving to correct them. All bow to Spike’s creator. I sure do at least.



a/n I was blown away by the reviews for this one and for Table Rase. Holly in particular made me a really happy writer. I have to thank my wonderful beta ~*~Tasha~*~ who not only volunteered for this but did an excellent job. I am honoured to have her support for this one. Once again, thank you. And to the friend who gave me the soundtrack of Once more with feelings as a joke. I owe you one. It’s the perfect music to write Spuffy too.



 

Spike was having a drink at Willy’s when he felt the urge to go to the cemetery.  Something was calling to him.  Since he was on his way to being pleasantly drunk, he pushed the feeling aside.  He was going bunkers because of the Slayer.  He didn’t know what was worse: the truce they seemed to have at the moment or the open hostility of the past.  Swearing, he shot back the glass of whiskey that was on the bar before motioning for another hit.

Something was wrong with the Slayer these days and bugger if he knew what.  She was friendly enough with everyone, but he could see that she was keeping herself distant.  At least she hadn’t threatened to stake him for a few months now, and even the Scoobies seemed to be more accepting of him.  The only exception was the Whelp but Spike had a suspicion that the insults were mostly for show these days.  Well, Spike knew his were.

 

Spike still considered himself the Big Bad, no matter what every demon and vamp in the hell hole that was Sunnyhell thought.  Maybe he had sat with Dawn when Joyce was busy.   Maybe he was now a frequent visitor of the house on Revello, but that didn’t mean anything, did it?

 

Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself mate.  You know full well that you are completely in love with the Slayer and that you would do anything for the two others Summers’ women.  Spike thought to himself. The Scoobies aren’t that bad.  Even the Whelp has his moments. As for the Watcher it feels good to have a fellow Brit around, even if this one does remind me a bit of William.

The call was growing more urgent now, and Spike’s knee was bouncing with the urge to run.  He growled and slapped his money on the counter before stalking a bit drunkenly toward the door.

 

There was something in the air tonight, a foreshadow of something terrible.  A scent of pain and fear that Spike would have revelled in a few years earlier hung in the air.  Tonight that scent of fear unsettled him. The town was quiet, as if everyone knew that this was a dark night, filled with something potentially catastrophic.  Unsettled and uneasy, he quickened his pace through the darkened streets of Sunnydale.

   

Spike was a few streets from Restfield when the smell hit him. The combination of blood, sex, pain and slow death filled him with dread.   When he caught the particular scent on the air, his knees nearly buckled.  Slayer, the wind whispered in his ear.

 

A smell that was once the sweetest smell for his demon, now sent him into utter panic.  He could feel her, the power draining from her like her blood.  Her essence hung heavy in the air.  Vanilla,musk, and a scent that only Buffy carried had been haunting his dream-filled days and his every waking hour.  On this night it was mixed with the stench of coming death.   That realization pushed him to running, desperate to get to her before the unthinkable happened. 

 

Spike vaulted over headstones and grass-covered tombs, around crypts and monuments in a wild race to get to the source of his every desire before it was too late.  He had never been more scared in his life. He was afraid of losing something that wasn’t his, knowing that he could never forgive himself if she died.  If this was the end of Buffy Summers, the best Vampire Slayer he had ever met and the one woman who was his match, he knew that he would meet the sunrise come next morning.

 

All effects of the alcohol Spike had consumed that night vanished when he saw her.  Buffy was laying on the grass naked, and her blond hair   was spread out beneath her in a golden halo under the full moon.   Her skin, once tanned by the California sun, was now marred by myriads of cuts.   Her whole body covered with her own blood.  He could smell semen on the air and the sudden knowledge of what had happened would have stopped his heart if it needed to beat to survive.  He hurried to her side and dropped down, kneeling by her side, in a pool of the blood that was his race’s most desired prize.

 

Spike’s shaky fingers reached towards Buffy’s face but he stopped just before touching her.  Her eyes were wide open, but they stared out at nothing. They were already starting to glaze over with the death that was quickly claiming her body.  He could hear her heart struggling.   It’s beats were more and more spaced out, struggling to pump the blood that was escaping her body.  His demon’s awareness of her presence was growing dimmer by the second even as a part of himself reached out to her, hoping to connect in some way. 

 

Spike brushed his fingers across Buffy’s cheek.  He pushed the strands of hair that were plastered to her damp skin off of her face.  Skin that used to be so warm it always burned him was now growing cold as ice. 

 

Spike knew that Buffy was too far gone for him to take her to the hospital.    The shock of being moved would likely be enough to push her over the threshold of death. A whimper escaped her, causing him to take in an unneeded breath that ended in a choked sob.

“Luv.  Come on Slayer, don’t die on me.  You know the Scoobies will stake me for sure if I let you die on me.  Fight Buffy, please, fight.” Spike whispered, still stroking her cheek. 

Buffy somehow moved her head a little towards him, as his voice reached her fading consciousness.   The eyes that had been unseeing now focused on him, filled with pain and understanding of what was happening.

 

“Talk to me pet.  Tell Spike what he can do to help you.”

 

The green orbs filled with the knowledge that it was too late.  They held a hint of regret that her life was slipping away too fast for him to do anything humanly possible to save her.

 

For a brief instant, Spike could swear he saw determination in the hazel eyes that were the only thing that still looked lively.

 

“That’s it pet, fight.   Don’t give up now.”

 

Buffy’s gaze turned pleading and accepting, as though she was absolving him of what she somehow knew he was thinking.  She was giving him permission to do what needed to be done.   Her soul cried out, and her Slayer side decided that it was not ready to accept this kind of end.

 

The essence of the Slayer was getting stronger even as her life’s blood slipped away.  It knew that despite Buffy’s fear, the result of what Spike could do for her was not the one thing that she had feared all her life.

 

The Slayer’s inner voice whispered that she needed to trust in Spike.  She assured the frightened girl that she would not be the killer she feared of becoming but something more instead.

 

Spike sat back in shock.  He doubted that he really saw in the Slayer’s eyes what he thought he did.  At the barely perceptible twitch of Buffy’s eyes, he knew that he wasn’t imagining it.  Something deep within the woman before him was the acceptance of life in death.

 

With a last sob, Spike leaned down and cradled Buffy’s broken form in his arms.   He bent his head toward her neck and he slipped his fangs on the unmarked side, his demon refusing to claim her over the marks left there by previous masters.  He took three long pulls of the powerful elixir before slashing his wrist with his fangs.  He lifted his arm to her mouth and he waited for her to start swallowing before he realized he tasted venom in her blood. 

 

Spike realized why Buffy hadn’t moved since he had found her.  She was paralyzed and was incapable of even swallowing by herself.  He massaged her throat softly, getting the muscles to clench and release to accept the blood that would change her for all times.

 

Soon, the effect of Spike’s untainted blood allowed Buffy to start moving a little.  His mind was eased when he felt Buffy start drinking deeply on her own. He allowed her to drink her fill of what would be Sire’s blood until he heard her heart beat for the last time.